Playing with my food

After several weekends in a row of traveling, I'm finally home for a consecutive Friday, Saturday, and Sunday, which is leading to a sort of experimental cooking and preserving binge.  Or, as much of one as could be expected without proper equipment or expertise for most of the kinds of kitchen projects I'm trying to do.

There's more to this than a love for cooking (although that might turn out to be a by-product of the experimentation).  The farm where I work has recently had an overflow of seconds, especially partially bug-eaten corn and cucumbers this past week.

Yesterday as I was leaving work, I loaded up a few cucumbers and ears of corn in my backpack.  I turned my back for a second and my two-year-old coworker appeared behind me helpfully toting as many additional cucumbers as he could carry.

"I licked one of them," he announced as he added them to the others.  I didn't have the heart to turn him away, so I adopted them all, even the slimy one.

In addition to the Lawrence-produced bounty, I received a visit from my parents and brother this week, which meant I also received several more ears of corn, hot peppers, cherry and slicing tomatoes, onions, two gallons of milk, a quart of skimmed cream, and a skinned, whole chicken.

I was risking the wrath of my housemates by taking up far more than my share of the fridge.  Something had to be done.

Yesterday my coworkers Colby and Sally came over to help use up some of the produce bounty, but since they work at the farm too, they brought their own orphan cucumbers, tomatoes, peppers, and onions.  Colby set the agenda for the evening: gazpacho and mozzarella cheese.  We set up a dual kitchen with Colby and Sally on one side of the counter chopping and whuzzing up the produce, while I set up the mozzarella on the stove.

I made things more difficult for myself by suggesting that we do a side-by-side comparison of fresh milk and store-bought milk.  The gazpacho was a great success, and I'll blame the semi-failure of the mozzarella on the over-complication of trying to watch the temperature on two batches at once.

By semi-failure, I mean that what we ended up was some kind of cheese, but it definitely was not mozzarella.  After 20 minutes of waiting for curds to form, it was clear that something was wrong with the store-bought batch.  Colby did a quick google of the problem, and I realized that the aluminum (not stainless steel) pot was probably the issue.   While he was at it he found a recipe for making ricotta from the left-over whey (which I'll come back to later).

Meanwhile, Sally and I scooped the beautiful very-mozzarella-like curds out of the fresh-milk batch.  The curds looked and felt a little like gak, that neon-colored goo we played with in the mid-90s.   ...So this step is partly responsible for turning what should have been a 30-minute-mozzarella into a 90-minute-mozzarella.

The next steps of the recipe called for successive heatings and kneadings of the curds until they became stretchy and smooth.  It was only after the mozzarella failed to become stretchy and smooth that I read the following steps in the recipe, which listed all of the potential ways to screw up the heating and kneading.

We had managed to accomplish several of the pitfalls of curd-kneading: over-heating, over-working, and taking too much time in general.  The recipe didn't offer any suggestions of what to in the case that your cheese does become "hard and unworkable." We divided and snacked on the small chunk of not-mozzarella cheese, and called it a night.

Today I came back to the whey sitting on the back of the stove, and made a super-nice batch of whey ricotta. It went really quickly (aside from the part where I tried to substitute regular cotton fabric for cheesecloth... let's just say I'm going to be buying some cheesecloth if I do this again) and was a super easy recipe.



And then I turned my attention to the failed batch of store-bought-milk mozzarella.  By this point the cultures had done a little bit of work, and I had tiny flecks of curd, which looked a little like the whey ricotta did before I strained it.

So I strained the failed batch too, and voila, now I have two slightly different kinds of... what I'm just going to go ahead and call ricotta.  I also revisited the not-mozzarella ball, which had turned into a sliceable, dry, sharp-tasting, and delicious lump.  I don't have a name for it, but I like it.



My next two projects were the cucumber and corn.  Cucumber salad turned out pretty delicious with a partially improvised recipe based on this one (minus 1/2 c. mayo, plus 1/2 c. yogurt, plus lots of onions, if you must know), although I'm also intrigued by this recipe with chili powder, which I might try when I get more cucumbers next week.



I had planned to can the corn as my first solo canning experience.  I was proud of myself for improvising or hoarding all of the canning supplies I would need, but partially into the process, I realized I was missing one essential piece of equipment.  After searching all over the house for something that could substitute for a rack that keeps the jars off the bottom of the pot, I gave up and decided to just freeze this batch.  (It just occurred to me that I could probably have fashioned something out of wire clothes hangers... shoot, that would have made for a good story).  All's well that ends well: There are four containers of frozen corn, cucumber salad for dinner tonight, a good bit of ricotta-like cheese, and most importantly...

Space for more produce in the fridge!!!

P.S.  I have a confession to make. When I think about the food production and preservation talents that generations of people before me had to perfect, and what a lot of people in other parts of the world still do to feed themselves today, it is frankly embarrassing to me to be writing a blog post about my little forays into food production, like its some big impressive adventure. 
I'd like to get to the point where preserving food isn't something for me to write home about.  I'd like to see us get to the point where growing, processing, and cooking food just... something we all do.

Transportation, Continued.

I just got back from my second day riding my new bike to work! Last I wrote I had just fixed my car, and just gotten a flat tire on my bike.  But then I took a one-week intermission from working in order to drive said car to Minnesota, hitch a ride with CJ's parents to Ontario, and experience my first ever Fishing Trip.

Thanks to some quick-draw emailing and fancy footwork just before leaving on vacation, I am now in possession of what very well may be my dream bike.

I have to thank craigslist for introducing me to Bob, who not only sold me a great bike for $35, but also entertained CJ and me with stories of family trips to civil rights protests when he was a kid.  Bob also expressed some concerns that perhaps our generation is apathetic and, therefore, that our world is headed for disaster.  CJ and I did our best to reassure Bob that not everyone in our generation is (as he fears) obsessed with Paris Hilton, and that in spite of the lag in peace protests in comparison to the 60s, there are many of us who are socially active. ...Although Bob (a self-described "recovering attorney") only laughed when I described law school as part of my plan to make the world a better place.  Anyway, we finally said goodbye to Bob and drove away with my new bike:

Part of the low price was because of brittle tires that were beyond any hope of inflation, but a visit to my local bike shop supplied me with the tires and tubes to fix her up.  I even cleaned out the gears with q-tips and WD-40, and wiped the whole frame down.   2 hours later I took my first ride around the block, and if it hadn't been 102 degrees outside, I would have found an excuse to just keep going.

As you can see from the pictures, this bike satisfies pretty much all of last post's wish list, and more! I added a bell and lights to it (still no rearview mirror), it came with an awesome folding basket, and the hybrid tires are perfect for the not-so-well-maintained streets of East Lawrence.

Plus, it's such a lovely color of light blue!!


I shared with CJ my recently-discovered additional evidence that this bike and I are soul mates.  "Look, it's a Mirada!" He just stared at me.  "Get it? MIR-ada!"  I think maybe he raised an eyebrow... at any rate, he wasn't getting it or he wasn't impressed, so I thought I'd better up the cleverness a level.   "Plus, the word for bike in German is RAD! So it's like, MIR-RAD... Mir's bike, get it?"

....Sigh.... I need to pick a more appreciative audience for my incredible wit.

Speaking of which, last Wednesday I thought up a clever plan for saving myself a few blocks of riding:  First, I would ride to work, and then afterwards, continue the ride to the grocery store to pick up a few things for dinner.

Well, I spent a couple of hours that day pulling up onions in a waterlogged field that was full of weeds taller than I am, the top 8-10 inches of which were heavy-laden with pollen.  Afterwards my jeans and shoes were caked with mud up to my thighs, my arms were covered with itchy bumps and scratches, and I had yellow powdery polkadots glued to me with sweat from head to toe.

I don't know why I ever think that working six hours in 100 degree heat could be followed by anything other than a shower.

I wasn't sure it was kind of me to expose strangers to my general disgustingness, but I figured I might as well get all my sweating and exercise out at once, so I rode to the store as is.  I just tried to avoid aisles where there were other shoppers...

I got to the counter as soon as possible, only to catch a bit of disappointing conversation: On the occasion of my first bike ride to Dillons, the only grocery store in East Lawrence, I found out that the store will be officially closing at the beginning of August... two weeks from now.  

Theoretically, it's for a good reason: Dillons plans to rebuild its Mass Street store, in a more attractive, more energy-efficient, and more community-oriented style.  I guess that will be nice.  But until then, East Lawrence, and my current Personal Biking Radius, will be without a grocery store.  It's weird to me that in a place with so many establishments for eating and drinking, there's not a single place to buy just plain food.

The next closest grocery store is Checkers, another mile South.  I actually prefer Checkers, mostly because it sells meat and milk from local farms.  So maybe this is just the motivation I need to get working hard on expanding the bikeable radius.  Hey, if my little brother can run 6 miles before 8am, surely I can make it to Checkers on my bike.

...Which reminds me of some errands I need to run (exchanging Isaiah's birthday-present running shorts for a bigger size so they're not QUITE so short...), and if I want to get them done, I need to get out the door and on my sweet new ride.

Rad Fahren (Driving my Bike)

One of the best things about this summer so far is the freedom to finally experiment with how little I can use my car, and how much I can expand the radius within which I am comfortable biking.

I've had a bike since I moved to Lawrence, and I've had two legs for about 24.9 years now, but I had a mental block to really using them as my main forms of transportation, and that mental block was the 70 mile round-trip daily commute to teach.  It just didn't seem to make much difference whether I biked the 7 blocks to the bank or drove, when I was burning 2 gallons of gas minimum every week day regardless.  And anyway, I could hit the bank on the way home from work, adding only 2 blocks to my drive.

This summer however is the first time I have gotten to take advantage of the fact that I really do have everything I need within walking and biking distance in Lawrence.  In addition to the bank, all of my favorite restaurants, bars and shops are 3 blocks away on Massachussetts Street.  The grocery store is less than a mile.  CJ's house is 5 blocks.  The clincher, the icing on the cake, is that my summer job is just down the country roads east of my house, at the Buller Family Farm.   And in contrast to teaching, no one will comment or notice if I show up already sweaty for work.

The first week of biking was like a honeymoon period--Ah the breeze in my face! Ah the pleasant burn in my legs! Ah the joys of watching the countryside go by at a slightly slower speed!  It didn't last long.  My conviction to shun my car was challenged a few days in, by the out-of-the-ordinary task of renewing my car's registration.  Luckily the courthouse is only 5 blocks from my house here in East Lawrence, and so I hopped on my bike, paperwork in hand, already filled out and ready to go.

I arrived at the courthouse a little sweaty but excited to get this task out of the way so efficiently, and without my car... I spent a good 10 minutes in line, enjoying the over-airconditioned lobby and staring at the sign that said "No Proof of Insurance, No Registration," before it dawned on me where my proof of car insurance was.  In my car, of course.

One of my biggest annoyances with myself is screwing up a simple task and having to do it twice.

I rushed out to my bike and my first frustrated thought was "UGH! I'll just bike home and drive back over here!!" As if biking 10 more blocks would be a horrible waste of energy, as if taking an extra 20 minutes to fix my own mistake would be a horrible use of time on a day when I wasn't working and didn't have any other important tasks to accomplish anyway. My second thought (more sheepish this time) was, "Wow, there went my resolve. That didn't take much..."

I did bike back over, proof of insurance safely stashed in my wallet, but I had to give myself a stern talking-to.  By the end of that first week I realized there were also a few things on my wish list to make my bike-transportation more pleasant.

1) new handlebars that don't make me lean forward like I'm on a bike race everywhere I go,
2) cushier seat, to replace the hard rounded red plastic seat (ow...)
3) bike rack and baskets, so I can actually use it to make grocery runs without stuffing everything in a backpack and then sweating all over it,
4) tire pump that attaches to my bike to fix flats on-the-go,
5) gear shifters that I can use without removing my hands from the handlebars,
6) a rear-view mirror (why aren't those just standard on all bikes? It's WAY less safe to be ignorant of what's behind you on a bike than in a car!)

I started wondering whether I just wanted an entirely different bike to ride.  But then, I discovered the key to biking or walking no matter what...  On the way back from Kansas City one evening, I made the unpleasant discovery that my car's headlights only worked when they wanted to.  They could be nursed along with strategic and emphatic application of the turn signals, but they shut off intermittently anyway.  It turned out the switch that controlled my lights and windshield wipers had "gone bad," and its replacement wasn't cheap.

While I was at it I figured I might as well take care of the other persistent and ever-more-consistently occurring problem, and that is the small issue of the floor-board flooding after a rainstorm.  It's not pleasant opening up a car that has standing water in it, but it IS easy to ignore the problem when the car and the weather are dry (which explains the fact that I have gone 3 years ignoring this problem).  My mechanics recommended a glass expert who is a wiz at figuring out leaks, but after doing his best diagnosis, he gave me two pieces of bad news: 1) I can't fix it and 2) whoever does is going to charge you a lot of money.

My next stop (I drove straight there from the glass shop) was a body shop, a spiffy and friendly little place run by a mom, dad and son.  I knew it was going to be a good place for me to get my car fixed when the family corgy came out from under the waiting room chairs to sit on my feet and look longingly up at me while I scratched her ears.  The Pearsons said they couldn't promise that they would even find the leak, let alone fix it, and joked that maybe I should consider embracing the problem and stocking my floorboard ponds with goldfish.

A week later I got my car back with two pieces of great news: 1) My car now has much better drainage and, most significantly, less overflow of water into my floorboards, and 2) The cost of fixing the leak, in the end, was less than a third of the cost of fixing the headlight switch.  I was thankful for having the leakage fixed because the following week saw one rainstorm after another.  I didn't have to wake up during a pleasant summer rain wondering how much water I would have to scoop out the next day.  I rode my bike to work through it all--after three weeks, I was pretty used to the one-mile ride, rain or shine.

Yesterday, though, was the first day I drove my car to work.  My bike's wimpy road tires had collapsed thanks to a particularly gravelly patch of road.  As I added up the costs of the repairs and changes I want on my bike anyway, I decided to start combing the craigslist classifieds for a different bike after all...

(to be continued...)

Response to the Governor

I woke up angry this morning in my stuffy upstairs bedroom. I was wishing that my ceiling fan would work a little harder, and wishing that I wasn't already thinking about Sam Brownback at 5:30am.  Guess I shouldn't have read the news right before going to bed:

Firing of staff stuns Kansas Arts Commission

TOPEKA | Gov. Sam Brownback’s administration has told the Kansas Arts Commission that its five employees will lose their jobs and the agency will be shut down next month.
Secretary of Administration Dennis Taylor sent a letter Tuesday telling the employees their jobs would end June 10.
Brownback wants to eliminate the commission and replace it with a nonprofit foundation relying heavily on private donations to finance arts programs.
Legislative negotiators plan to include $689,000 in the next budget to keep the commission alive, but Brownback is expected to line-item veto the funds.
Arts Commission Chairman Henry Schwaller said the agency was shocked by Taylor’s letter. Schwaller called the move a back-door attempt to circumvent what Kansas residents want.

| The Associated Press

Posted on Tue, May. 10, 2011 10:15 PM

Read more: http://www.kansascity.com/2011/05/10/2865742/brownback-fires-arts-commission.html#ixzz1M3t5F79t

I've been thinking about my response all day.

Dear Governor Brownback,
As a U.S. History teacher at Topeka West High School, I spend a lot of time focusing on how the checks and balances in the Constitution have enabled our governmental system to exist continuously and develop positively through the past 200 years.

My students and I extensively discuss the importance of compromises between those founders who championed a large central government, and those who cautioned against establishing a government with too much power.  Only through this delicate balance can we now enjoy a system that is both able to lead our nation effectively and speaks for the rights and wishes of our nation's people.

By promoting the balancing of the budget through cutting spending and shrinking some KS government programs, your proposals throughout this year's Kansas budget discussions have remained consistent with a belief in a government with limited powers and responsibilities.  

I was extremely frustrated and angered to learn of your recent act of prematurely dismantling the Kansas Arts Commission.  I find it highly inconsistent that you argue for a smaller government while simultaneously abusing powers that are beyond the responsibilities that have been democratically delegated to you. 

Given the two options, I would prefer to pay higher taxes for a program that the populace of Kansas has spoken in support of (both through their own voices and through their elected representatives), than to have a governor that feels free to act unilaterally and even against the will of the legislature.  

This action was not only hypocritical in the light of your belief in limited government, but it also make a mockery of the system of checks on power that are the basis of our governmental system.  It brings to light just how vulnerable any governmental system is to a leader who does not stay within the bounds of the leadership role to which he or she was elected.  

Do not let hubris, impatience, or frustration get in the way of fulfilling your responsibilities to those who elected you.  Reinstate the Kansas Arts Commission until the budget issues surrounding it are resolved through democratic means.  The people of Kansas--and the students of Topeka West High School--will watch and hold you accountable for your actions.

Sincerely,
Miriam Friesen

Why I Am Going to Law School

This week I broke the news to my German 1 and 2 students that I would not be returning as their teacher next year; that I'm going to law school instead.  Since they would have had a chance to have me as a teacher again next year, I figured this decision affected them the most out of all of my students.

Realizing this moment was coming a few months ago, I decided to sit down and put together an outline of my thoughts on why I am going to law school, just in case it turned into a teachable moment.  You know how I love outlines and organized thoughts anyway...

In the end, the response to my news did not evidence much concern, even on the part of my best-beloved students.  One response was "We'll be students at KU at the same time! We can go to keg parties together!" (...um... no thanks...) and another response was "Hey, how do you say 20 in German? I forgot and I need to know for number 5 on the homework."

It relieved a little of my guilt complex, that they didn't seem too traumatized by the idea of my departure from Topeka West. But, shoot, it just didn't give me a chance to delve very far into the answer that I had begun carefully constructing.  Guess what, blogs are an excellent outlet for expressing thoughts that are desperate to find an audience.

Ahem: "Why I am going to law school," by Miriam Friesen.

A few years ago I got started thinking about food and farming.  I'd like to credit my parents for this.  Many a family supper in high school and college was strongly flavored by my dad's thoughts on local food economies, sustainably produced foods, biodiversity, and preventative healthcare based on healthy eating habits.  I recall our meals during that time period being generously sprinkled with clever quotes and pithy tidbits from Wendell Berry, Joel Salatin, Gene Logsdon, and Michael Pollan.  Before I read any Wendell Berry for myself, my sister and I had a running inside joke about him.  Any time one of us asked an opinion about something, the other one of us would put on a very serious expression and start our opinion with, "Well, I think Wendell Berry would say..." (hehehe... Sorry, Dad!)
  
But in spite of our rolling eyes, the thoughts and questions sank in... of course.  And then all in the same year or two, my parents moved across the country to start a farm of their own; I joined in on the Oxfam campaign to reform the most recent US Farm Bill; I read An Omnivore's Dilemma; and I was suddenly surrounded by other people who were concerned about some of the same issues I was.

It was clear to me: the American food system could use some restructuring.  The more I read and think about it these days, the more interconnected all of the parts become--farmer's market rules are related to state food safety laws are related to big agribusinesses are related to standard farming methods are related to farm subsidies are related to food prices are related to capitalist principles are related to international commodity trade is related to food availability overseas is related to seed patents are related to biodiversity of crop species is related to food security is related to local food production is related to farmers markets...

I could go on... forever probably... but when I take a step back from this interconnected web that I am weaving for myself, I see a common thread: All of these things are shaped by, or themselves shape, US and world policies related to agriculture, food, and trade.

I want to understand those policies!  I HAVE to understand those policies!  I want to know the ins and outs of how they work, and who gets a say, and why.  I want to know what's been tried in the past, and what ideas there are for the future, and the potential problems with both.  I want to put myself in a position where I am able to speak both the language of the laws and the language of farmers and consumers.

I've come to the conclusion that there are two ways to have power in this or any discussion: to have money, or to have knowledge.  Of course, I have money in the "vote with your dollars" sense of having money, but I don't have the money to fund lobbyists and ad campaigns (that would be fun, wouldn't it?).  What I do have is the desire and the ability to work towards becoming a coherent voice in the discussion of the world food economy.
Just as importantly, I hope to become a communication channel and line of defense for those whose lives are greatly affected by these policies, but who lack the power to make their voices heard. I want to help ensure that their rights speak just as loudly as money does in the shaping and enforcement of agriculture and food policy laws.  (And just so you know, I get so excited just thinking about this, I'm having to hold myself back from using exclamation points at the end of each sentence!)

At this point, I always feel the need to issue this caveat so that you know I'm still in touch with reality: I know this is all very theoretical and idealistic. I understand that law school does not allow a tunnel-vision focus on one issue, and I'm aware that it's a big investment of time and money.

But if the above doesn't sound like a fascination with law and an inspiration to bury myself in its study for three years... Well, all that is left to say is that I've never been so excited about the future of my career, or so convinced that this is the direction I am supposed to be going!

PS Here are some of the thoughts that have been living on my bookshelf recently:

Morale and Motivation

I came to school today in a great mood, for three reasons in particular: One, the trip to see my sister's senior art show in Indiana provided me with a long weekend away from work; Two, I was wearing new red shoes (courtesy of my generous new friend Maggie, who let me adopt them for my very own, even though they were probably her best Goodwill-find ever); Three, I was carrying a bag of dark chocolate that I bought for the road trip, but forgot about until this morning when I unpacked. 

However, after unwrapping and devouring my third dark chocolate piece in the first two minutes of my plan period today, I realized it might not be the best idea to bring chocolate with me to work (long weekends and new shoes, on the other hand, remain a great way to bolster morale).

The inspiration for my manic chocolate-eating was the stack of US History tests that I was putting off entering into the grade book.  The curve of grades looked more like a steep upward climb than a bell, which usually means that something went terribly wrong. 

But as I paged through the open-note short answer tests, a few patterns reassured me that the error was not on my part.   Instead of answering all 8 short answer questions, some kids stopped after 4 or 5.  Far from writing the minimum 2 sentences, some kids wrote three words.  Instead of sentences, one kid copied a T-chart out of his notes.  I might have been tempted to award him with a point or two anyway, but the chart was unfortunately unrelated to the question he indicated he was answering.

It really pains me to have to hand out bad grades, but I just had to admit it was clear that the only thing wrong with this test was carelessness and lack of effort on the part of my dear angels.  Sometimes I just don't get them, and it is so difficult to predict what assignments will inspire them, and which will cause them to sink into the depths of hopelessness and whininess. 

One student today, a college-bound senior doing independent study, sighed dramatically and said "Really, Ms. Friesen? A TWO-page paper??" I laughed, embarrassed at my ridiculously low standards, and replied, "You're saying that because it's so short, right?"  He wasn't. 

On the other hand, my normally unmotivated sophomores (the authors of the tests above) settled right into a long-term reading assignment today, with no protest at all.  Over the next several days, they will be reading any 50 pages out of a selection of topical history books I picked from our school library.   "We can read 50 pages from any of the books we want?" Yep.  "So, is that 50 pages out of each book, or 50 pages total?" one not-particularly-academically-minded student asked, without a trace of fear or concern in her voice. 

"Um, yes... ONLY 50 pages total..." (And you ONLY have to write a total of 100 facts gleaned from those only 50 pages.  ...Glad you see it that way). During the 40 minutes they read silently today, I only had to send one student into the hall to do jumping jacks (which is a relatively mild fix for this particular student's overwhelming energy and effervescent obnoxiousness). 

Well, I remain mystified about the process of motivating and inspiring teenagers.  But my new shoes are still comfortable after 8 hours of pacing the classroom, and I got enough papers graded during plan to leave the rest at school, so I'm going home satisfied with my day.

Status

My current feeling (such a common feeling at 3:10 pm Monday through Friday) seems so significant that I just feel I have to announce it, right now, but social networking sites are blocked at school, so my blog is my only outlet.

Here it is, world, this is what I accomplished today:

I have survived through another day of teaching, and I didn't kill anyone, and only a small part of my soul withered, and I even think I may still emerge from teaching with part of my sanity and self-worth in tact.

(I'm not sure how people do this day after day for their entire career. Two years is plenty for me.)