I got up nearly at the crack of dawn (just before seven, the cracks of dawn come later and later as the year grows older) to make sure I’d find a place to park at the Slow Food Festival in the next village. It was still quite dark when I got up for my morning dip. The water’s 13C so it’s still dippable. The festival didn’t start until 10, but I like to take my time in the morning. I don’t remember what time I went to the festival last year, maybe later, there seemed to be more people then. This year I got there before ten. I was going to have some coffee and a cinnamon roll while waiting (it’s the National Cinnamon Roll Day), but the cinnamon rolls were still in the oven so coffee had to wait. Going that early was overdoing it a bit, but I was thinking back to the beginning of July and the antiques fair and nearly having to park in someone's field. Slow food doesn't seem to attract as large a crowd as antiques. A chunk of meat is a chunk of meat and you can always order more. You can't order more antiques. And yes, this was a Slow Food Festival
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A little market stall outside my local supermarket sells berries. There are wild blueberries (they merit another post), northern highbush blueberries, lingonberries, late strawberries; chanterelles (right; not berries); and – this year – damsons. I’ve never seen them being sold anywhere around here.
I had been chopping firewood (using a log splitter; I’m not too handy with the axe) and was carting them down to the shed with the wheelbarrow when something on my right caught my attention. Something orange. Cadmium yellow pale to be precise :-) Chanterelles. As I wrote earlier, I don’t do mushrooms. I’ve never learned to recognize the good ones and I don’t want to take risks. Eating other people’s mushroom dishes I, frankly speaking, don’t know what all the fuss is about. If I need mushrooms for a dish I go for the cultivated button mushrooms you get in supermarkets. Or shiitake. At least I know what I’m eating. But chanterelles are chanterelles. In my vocabulary they aren’t mushrooms. I pick the ones on our plot and take a short walk along the tiny road behind our fence and pick what I find. Not much (especially as I saw a neighbour foraging beyond that road yesterday). Just enough for one or two sandwiches. I fry them in butter and eat them with toast, with a few grinds of black pepper. Homemade bread. How’s that for lunch? I can’t call myself a hunter gatherer, as I don't hunt, but I can call myself a fisher gatherer – with some restrictions.
I bought three fish trap permits this spring. One is for the trap thing I use. The others are for fish nets my brother plans to use. They’re probably more efficient than my trap. There is something very satisfying even in putting the trap into the lake, not to mention catching something – fish, I hope. I feel more connected to nature. I feel more in control of myself and my life in catching my own livelihood, so to speak. Even if it’s just two small perch I can fry in butter for lunch. The other day I made my first ever batch of ghee. Sometime, don’t even know when, I’ve copied a recipe from Vasant Lad’s book Ayurveda, found in the library and leafed through between shelves. Quite simple really. I did make the mistake of covering the kettle with a lid when the butter started to sputter. I should have let the water evaporate, not keep it inside the kettle. When I realized this I just cooked it a bit longer, without the lid. I hope this was alright. You should use unsalted organic butter but my local supermarket only had salted organic butter (and an Ayurvedic friend said that’s ok). An organic store may have the right stuff, or at least more right, as ghee should (according to some articles I found on the web) be made using unsalted cultured butter. It tastes nutty. Good. As this was my first try I only made a small portion, using 250 g butter. Next time, I’ll double the size. The recipe? Mr Lad says to heat 450 g unsalted butter at medium heat. Then let it it boil for about 12 minutes. You do not skim the foam that rises to the top because there’s something medicinal about it. Turn the heat down and gradually the butter turns gold and smells pop-cornish. Let it cool down a bit and strain into a clean, dry jar. Cover tightly. When using, always use a dry untensil. Don’t let water enter the jar as this may spoil the ghee. No need for a fridge, ghee can be stored in room temperature. Some recipes say it should be stored in a fridge. |
AuthorI'm Piisa and I will be sharing with you my thoughts on this and that, maybe even on whatever. Archives
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