Gardener’s Porn

IMG_2948The catalog has arrived! After a brief tussle with my husband, I snagged first rights to it. I poured a glass of wine, curled up next to the fire, and prepared to feast my eyes on what Ian calls ‘gardener’s porn’.

I have a seed catalog ritual. When the catalog comes, I first flip through quickly, looking at pictures, checking for new plants and things that catch my eye, and revisiting ‘old friends’. The second time through, I circle those seeds I know or think I want to buy. The third time through, I prepare my order, consulting my list of needs, and selecting or rejecting the many ‘wants’ I’ve circled.

I look at my order critically then. It almost always shocks me how many seed packets are on the list. Do I really need both large and small gourds? How many tomato varieties is too many?

While I’m fretting over the length of my list, Ian usually snags the catalog. He invariably manages to goad, heckle, and request several more seeds onto my order.

He is the id, and my super-ego has no chance against him when it comes to seeds. I give in every time, and the order gets longer.

Finally, the order is made and sent off, but the catalog doesn’t necessarily get put away. It remains out for a few days as we all enjoy the bright colours of summer in the middle of winter.

July = Seed Catalogue!

100_3404 copyKings Seed announced yesterday that the new year’s catalogue is shipping this week. I can’t wait! I’ve also got my work cut out for me, now.

Before the catalogue arrives, I need to assess my current seed situation and make a list of what I need. If I don’t, I tend to buy EVERYTHING, and end up with too many seeds. As it is, I have a hard time limiting myself to what I need, plus a few “special” things.

It’s slightly easier here than it is in the US. Before we moved here, I used to get half a dozen seed catalogues every winter, and choosing among such a huge range of options was incredibly difficult. Here, with only one decent mail-order seed supplier, I at least have only one catalogue to pore over.

So tonight I’ll pull out the seed packets and the computer (where I maintain a spreadsheet of all the seeds I have), and update my records so I can purchase sensibly when the catalogue arrives…well…if not sensibly, at least I’ll know I’m buying too many seeds! 😉

Half Way!

Wine:peppers smI have reached the halfway point—half way through my 365 Days of Food blogging challenge. So far, except for technical difficulties, I have not missed a day.

It has been an interesting journey from a writing standpoint, and I still feel as though I’ve not begun to exhaust my ideas around food. Winter, I will admit, is tough because there is little to do in the garden, and our diet tends to shrink to a few ingredients that store well. But invariably, every day brings something blog-worthy.

This morning, I took two friends to the airport for their trip home to the US. We spent the past week travelling, talking, and eating…and often talking about travelling and talking about eating. It was good to talk to them about food and our relationship with food. They asked probing questions that forced me to verbalise some of my thoughts about food that I have not really discussed with anyone before. Their reactions to my food and lifestyle choices made me reassess and appreciate anew the value of those choices.

I’m sure those discussions and new perspectives will make their way into this blog over the next days, weeks and months, and I suspect that when I reach the end of my blogging Food Year there will still be more to be said. So pour yourself a glass of wine and settle in!

A new relationship with bees

DSC_0005 cropMy friend, Maryann, researches pollinator decline. Her focus is on honey bees, and how honey bee management can affect bee health.

The picture is a complex and disheartening one, but one that offers glimpses of what sustainable bee management could look like. Wherever they live, honey bees are beset by an array of diseases and parasites. Under the non-intensive, almost natural management regimes used in much of Africa, the bees fight off these pathogens and parasites without intervention from bee keepers. Intensely managed North American hives crumble under their onslaught.

North American hives are shifted from place to place, following the flowering crops, in order to provide pollination services for huge monocultures of fruits, vegetables and nuts. Hives are packed close together in vast arrays, making it easy for disease to spread from hive to hive.

The heavy use of herbicides in the agricultural landscape mean that the only source of pollen and nectar may be the crop to be pollinated. Bees evolved to feed on a wide variety of flowers, and cannot survive on one food alone. Imagine being forced to eat only broccoli—it’s good for you, but if you ate nothing else, your health would suffer.

Add to malnutrition the fact that the pollen the bees are eating is laced with no fewer than 137 different pesticides, many of which are toxic to bees or interfere with their growth, development and learning. And these pesticides are mixed with a range of substances to help them stick to the plants or disperse evenly when sprayed; these chemicals can be as poisonous to bees as the pesticides, and they are virtually unregulated.

Poor nutrition, poisoned food, and crowded conditions make North American bees susceptible to disease and parasite outbreaks. Bee keepers’ response has largely been to treat hives with pesticides to kill the parasites that spread disease, further adding to the chemical load the bees must support. When parasites develop resistance to pesticides (which they do at an alarming rate), the weakened bees are overwhelmed, and the colony dies.

I have long been uncomfortable with the North American management of bees—we squeeze everything we can from the poor animals, pushing them to their physiological limits in poor conditions. It’s no wonder they are in trouble. If we forced any other livestock to live in overcrowded conditions and eat poisoned food that didn’t meet their nutritional needs, the public would be outraged. Now, this unsustainable management has created a crisis, as the animals we depend upon to produce much of our food die in unprecedented numbers.

We need to develop a more gentle approach to bee management—one that respects the needs of these little animals. We need to critically evaluate (and curtail) our use of pesticides, and reconsider our model of vast monocultures in favour of more mixed agriculture. We need to give bees a break from the agricultural landscape so they have opportunities to eat food not laced with pesticides. We need to manage bees less for our own convenience, and more for their health and well-being. We need a new relationship with bees, forged from an understanding of bees’ needs, and aimed at long-term sustainability.

Fresh Eyes

Endangered dolphins? Nothing unusual to see...

Endangered dolphins? Nothing unusual to see…

Travelling around this week with friends from the U.S., I am seeing things with fresh eyes. The strange pronunciations, the shockingly changeable weather, the casual acceptance of road closures, spotting endangered species from the roadside…all those things I now just accept as normal. I’m reminded of how foreign they were to me once.

Coming from the land of restaurant chains, they were surprised by the abundance and quality of local cafés. Coming from a place of certainty, they remarked on the number of times I said, “This has changed completely since I was last here.” Coming from a land of freezing winters, they marvelled at fresh vegetables from the garden at the winter solstice.

It has highlighted for me just how much I have ‘gone native’. How much I have accepted, adapted to, and embraced this place. It has become me, and I have become it. There are many times when I still feel foreign, even after ten years here, but having visitors here helps me realise just how much I have come to belong.

Westland

100_3393 smI’ve been on the West Coast with friends this weekend. The South Island’s west coast always reminds me of Panama. Though one is a temperate zone in a modern, developed country and the other is a tropical, developing country, there are striking similarities in the landscape.

Both are landscapes in which agriculture struggles to hold its own against encroaching rainforest (or the other way around, depending on your point of view).

Giant trees in the middle of paddocks clearly grew up in the middle of the forest and were left for stock shelter. Stumps dotting the farmland attest to the recent clearing of the forest. Drainage ditches rush with water, and the lush vegetation defies a climate harsh in its abundance.

Towns and villages cling precariously to the wet slopes. Lichens and moss encrust rotting weatherboards. Sheds are engulfed by vines. Human sounds are drowned out by a cacophony of raucous birds. Nature dominates the human world. One good storm, one bad decision, and nature will reclaim what people have temporarily usurped.

Of course, this is where the similarities end. Panama’s sweltering heat, its humped Brahman cattle, and volcanic clay soils are nothing like the West Coast, where glaciers reach the rainforest, and black and white Holstein-Friesians graze the paddocks.

I love visiting the West Coast, with its unkempt abundance. It is a sparsely populated frontier, where only the hardiest survive. Lush and lovely and harsh.

Potato Soup

Potato soup is one of those comfort foods. A winter warmer that takes the chill off even the coldest day.

I grew up eating my mother’s delicious potato chowder, with milk and hard boiled eggs, but my potato soup repertoire has expanded since then, and I’ve tried many variations on the theme.

One my favourites has become this shockingly simple potato leek soup. It’s simplicity belies its rich, satisfying flavours.

1kg potatoes

4 large leeks

3 Tbsp butter

¾ tsp salt

Salt and pepper to taste

Slice the white part of the leeks as thinly as possible. In a large pot, sauté the leeks very gently in the butter until they are golden. Peel the potatoes and slice as thin as possible (We use our mandolin on the thin setting. You could use a food processor, or slice them by hand, too). Put the potatoes into the pot along with the salt, and add just enough water to cover. Bring to a boil and cook until all the potato slices are soft, and some are disintegrating. Adjust salt and season with black pepper to taste.

*If you like potato skins, as I do, you can leave the skins on, but peel off several strips of skin from each potato. Otherwise the skins will slip off the thin slices in long rings and make your soup stringy.

Travelling

100_3358 copyA couple of friends are visiting from the U.S. this week. Poor ladies, coming from summer to record cold weather here!

We’ve done our fair share of travelling, so one of the things I asked them was, “What do you normally eat for breakfast?” Breakfast is such a fundamental meal. It sets up your whole day, and when you don’t get the breakfast your body wants, it can throw off everything. When I travel within New Zealand, I always bring my breakfasts with me. If I can have my usual bowl of homemade granola in the morning (and have it at 5.30 am, like I’m used to), I can handle any amount of lousy, erratic meals the rest of the day. When visitors come, I try to provide them a breakfast as close as possible to what they’re used to, so they can enjoy more fully the wonders of New Zealand.

Try it next time you travel. Take breakfast with you and see how the right start perks up your whole vacation!

Truffles!

truffles1One of my husband’s colleagues (Alexis Guerin-Laguette at Plant & Food Research) is working on the commercialisation of truffle production in New Zealand. They’ve just harvested this year’s crop, and as an ‘insider’ Ian got early access to the bounty.

“You don’t want to know what I paid for these,” he said of the five tiny mushrooms nestled carefully in a tissue-lined jar.

But, who cares—they were truffles! The real, if-you-have-to-ask-you-can’t-afford-it thing! They weren’t a food item, they were a life experience!

Of course, I will admit that they smelled odd. My son described it as, “sort of like petrol,” and my daughter declared the odour “weird”. I reserved judgement until the fungi were properly prepared and sitting on my tongue.

Ian described the flavour as “Sitting in my grandfather’s green leather chair in front of the fire on a crisp autumn night.” He obviously experienced it much more intensely than I did, because my description didn’t come close. I very much enjoyed the flavour—strong, rich and earthy, and unlike any other mushroom I’ve eaten. I also appreciated the crisp texture of the paper-thin slices on top of creamy risotto. Was it worth it? Yes. Worth every penny (even at $2500/kg)!

For those of you near Christchurch who want to try out some truffles yourself, check out the truffle festival July 11-18!