The new house colors really shone in the sunshine we had yesterday. We are still waiting for foundation color, another coat on the porch floor, and some other touch ups. I hope things will go more quickly now that the weather has turned (fingers crossed!).
I really like the green - it goes so well with spring leaves!
Reading about the history of spelt and emmer today, I discovered that Wikipedia has a category devoted to underutilized crops—it’s a term of art in agricultural biodiversity circles—highlighting 95 crops that don’t see a lot of agrarian action these days. There’s some interesting stuff in there, like Dioscorea opposita, the lube yam, and the only one suitable for eating raw. Or the tantalizingly brief entry on Kañiwa, an Andean quinoa relative whose “domestication is not complete.”
That’s it, really. Note to self: read more about underutilized crops.
Tap-tap-tap. Hey. So, our friends Will and Ariel are going to have a baby soon. Its ETA is December 19TH, but you know how these things are. Could be sooner, could be later. Among his many other skills, Will is a musician and audio engineer, and has conceived of a project to mark the occasion. He would like your assistance in recording The Sound of That Day, the day his child is born, so that he can give it to said offspring some years down the road.
If you’re willing to help, sign up to be notified at the site. When the kid is born, Will will light-up the email/sms Batsignal to notify everyone, and then you’ll use your cell phone, video recorder, laptop, pearlcorder, etc. to capture some sounds from your world. Then you upload them. There’ll be a form-based interface for you to upload your sounds, along with lots of meta information like location, time, description, etc.
Short-term, Will’s going to build a Google-map API hookup and whatnot, with Flashy bells and whistles, to plot the received samples across on a world map and give contributors an interface to explore the results of the project. Long-term that’s probably not too future-proof, but he’ll try to maintain and update it over the years. Eventually, when the kid’s old enough to care—which is probably sometime around the year 2030—it’ll be something cherishable.
Eh, just go there and read Will’s explanation. So far he’s had about 100 sign-ups, which will probably translate into 30 actual participants or so, if we’re to be realistic about things. Hopefully there will be some far-flung, globe-spanning submissions. It should be fun and interesting to hear the results, not to mention satisfying, knowing that your sounds will be part of a time capsule being sent to a kid 20-odd years into the future. C’mon, help out.
Over the winter, the neglected remnants of our summer garden had come to resemble the setting of an H.R. Giger painting and, last weekend, C and I could stand it no more. Much cleaning and clearing happened on Sunday and — though the raised beds aren’t ready, yet — I’ve gotten a small start on Herbs 2007 by planting in a couple of reclaimed containers.
I can be tenderhearted to a fault and have let many a plant languish in our garden, being hesitant to seal even the weakest plant’s doom. No more! I have completely cleared the herb garden of slug bitten sage and sprawling, slimy oregano and emptied many a terracotta pot populated with half-hearted plant volunteers (strawberries that rarely fruited, twiggy lavender, etc., etc.). As I dug about, I was reminded that the herb garden had not been as deeply cultivated as the raised beds. I found significant amounts of clay not far below its surface — perhaps the reason for the underperforming herbs of the past?
Now that the once herb garden is clear, C and I are thinking that it might better be used as a tomato patch. I am also interested in seeing if I can create a viable herb garden with only containers (though basil will go into the garden proper when the time comes).
Yesterday, I sowed cilantro in a large green pot — hopefully roomy enough not to cramp the taproots. I’ve had little luck with cilantro in the herb garden up to this point. It is usually weak, leggy and swift to bolt. I hope it will do better in loose potting soil.
Tonight, I sowed parsley seed that had been soaked in water in a dark place for 24 hours. The folk wisdom on the inside of the Botanical Interests™ seed packet suggested soaking as well as watering in, once sown, with warm water. I dumped the entire packet of seed into a container a smidge smaller than the green one containing the cilantro. I followed all the folk advice save spacing the seeds. I figure that there is no need to be stingy — the seed “sell by” date is 12/06 so I’ll be happy if anything germinates. I’ll thin like crazy if it’s called for in the future.
Yes, it’s that veat. I have a strange fondness for packaged meat alternatives… not because I’m vegetarian, mind, because I’m not. Some of them are just such gosh-darnedly awesome Future Foods. Particularly Quorn — really, who among you can resist a delicious flavored loaf of vat-fermented mycoprotein? — but also smokey tempeh “bacon”, Field Roast “grain meats,” Tofurky and a host of other meatless meat-alternatives.
Of all these, none can match the Veat® Vegetarian Breast for attempting to look like the animal it purports to replace. Tofu dogs and veggie burgers take the convenient form of other meat delivery systems — the better to fit into buns — but the Veat Breast actually has limbs. Molded to resemble a flattened Cornish game hen, the “breast” sports a gimpy wing and leg, as well as a severed neck-stump and tail. This is apparently a bid to underscore the fact that the Veat Vegetarian Breast “Eats Like Chicken!™” (yes, they trademarked that phrase).
Without further ado, behold… my Veat:
Emerging from its box, the frosty young Veat retains an outer membrane of plastic.
Within the membrane, a molded shell protects the Veat from the depredations of its natural predators: Shipping and Handling.
Its carapace removed, the crisp lines of the Veat’s shriveled wing and muscular haunch are manifest.
All that remains is to baste the Veat with teriyaki sauce, allow to marinate, and bake…
…Time’s up! Look at that crispy, Veaty goodness!
Truly, there is plenty here. 4 servings, says the box.
Simply slice Veat, season to taste and serve. Bon Appétit!
Surprisingly, it’s not so bad. The Veat Breast — mostly TVP and binding agents — has a smooth, chewy texture, and though it purports to contain spices, sea salt, and sugar, it’s pretty damned bland. The teriyaki marinade went a long way to infusing it with interest. It’s not vegan, however, since it includes whey protein. I can’t imagine preparing a Veat Breast as anything other than a novelty — the limbs really do push it beyond the pale — but Veat Bites or Veat Nuggets, chunky amorphous blobs that they are, would probably do fine in a stir-fry.
Note that Veat® is made in Taiwan, so factor-in the cost of shipping this meatless monstrosity from the Far East if you’re concerned about the absurd amount of fossil fuels that can go into putting food on your table.
August is a pretty exciting month in our garden. Grapes, peppers and early cascade tomatoes are ripening. We’ve had to pick green beans every other day or so for the last couple of weeks. The potato plants are lush and blooming thanks to some tweaking of the drip irrigation system. The lemon cucumbers are bountiful as are the zucchini and yellow squash.
Some disappointments: The eggplants are still weak looking and the yellow currant hasn’t produced as much ripe fruit as I would have expected by this point in the growing season — certainly not on par with our usual small tomato of choice, the sungold (which we, sadly, couldn’t track down this year).
The Black Krim tomatoes are still very green, I hope we get some ripe ones before the weather becomes unfavorable!
The Italian Honey Fig tree has set an abundance of fruit this year and it looks like the first figs of the season are ready for picking.
From my experience, figs aren’t really ripe until they appear a touch over-ripe and ready to fall off the tree. Look at the fig with brown spots in the lower right of this photo. That looks about right. 
Figs are very sensual fruits when they are mature, the ripe one appears to be weeping sticky fig juice onto its neighbor. Of course, it would figure that those first ripe specimens would be just out of my arm’s reach.
In all previous years, I’ve taken the presence of ants as a sign of ripeness. They seem to have a sixth-sense about ripe, oozy figs and can be seen running in and out of the fig’s pore when the fruit is at its peak. Strangely, I haven’t seen any ants on the tree this year. I wonder if there has been some trouble in the ant community.
I was going to mention the towering flowering beans, but C has already done so. Of all the plants in the garden, they seem to be the ones that most capture his attention. What can it mean?
All the watering we’ve employed to combat the recent 100+ degree temperatures has really made the weeds in the garden walk happy. They are knee high in spots. It’s a jungle out there.
My poor Correnta Hybrid Spinach. Most of the seedlings died in the last heat wave, and those that survived have now bolted before reaching a consumable, useful size. So much for my summer spinach experiment.
I was surprised to find a few ripe strawberries in the garden this morning. Looks like the berries in the back left of the strawberry patch are ever bearing. I wish I could remember the name of that particular berry (Hood?). The berries themselves are not your typical store-bought strawberry shape, they are oddly lumpy, but they are very tasty.
The Fasolds have long since topped their strings and are now engaged in further sky-reaching endeavors, twining around one-another in an attempt at the Indian rope trick of sorts. They’re all a-flower now — started sometime mid last week — so I should expect to see some wee beanage on them shortly.
The Climbing French, on the other hand, are of markedly different inclination. They’re only half the height of the Fasolds at the moment, but the cunning things put off multiple vines, so it’s not surprising. Fasolds just have the one, central runner from which they leaf, flower and bean-up. The Climbing French are at least bifurcate, if not more — I haven’t rustled about in them to count the number of branchings — so one can imagine that their energy is somewhat divided. No flowers ‘pon them yet.
Ah, and speaking of flowers, the very heavily scented Stargazer lilies began to open on or about July 18th. Man, they have a heady scent. Particularly at night.
One or two of the Italian honey figs (Lattarulla) are looking ripe as well. The recent 100° days can’t have hurt … though come to think of it, I’m not sure if figs care about growing degree days or not. Anyway, figs soon. Hooray.
As I write this, C. is downstairs plunking away on his new bass and has been for at least an hour now. Since purchasing the amp, he has practiced playing everyday. It’s quite pleasant having live music in the house, I enjoy overhearing his practice sessions.
Anyhoo, the real point of this post is simply to note the progress of the garden in the clutch of bullet points listed below:
That’s really all that I’m prepared to report on. If anyone is reading this, I apologize that the “weekly report” has evolved into something more monthly, but them’s the breaks.
