Farm update: October 26

Our first snowstorm arrived late last night, and with that, the 2020 growing season at Quiet Farm has officially concluded. Much of the past week has been spent preparing for this introduction to winter; though our skies will clear and temperatures will rise again later in the week, none of our annual crops will survive this cold snap. We’ve been threatened with hard freezes prior to this and have been lucky enough not to lose any plants; our season lasted far longer than expected. We’re hopeful that this early, wet storm will help the firefighters battling the numerous destructive wildfires currently raging across Colorado.

Flooding our pasture with snowmelt from the Grand Mesa.

We ran our final irrigation last week, then broke down most of our gated pipe so that we can repair any damaged gates and valves during the off-season. We have stellar water shares here at Quiet Farm, and thanks to N’s careful planning, we made our water last all season. This year was definitely a rebuilding year for our pasture, and we’re optimistic that our plans for next year’s irrigation run, which include reseeding, marking and thoughtful grazing by our herd, will yield even better results. Small farms are key to fighting climate change – if managed well, land like ours can absorb far more carbon than it emits. Establishing these “carbon sinks” across the country should be of highest priority; if this season’s devastating wildfires are any indication, the Rocky Mountain West has a tough road ahead.

Barely enough potatoes for one meal, much less an entire winter.

We are disappointed to report that our potato crop this year was not even remotely successful. We planted potatoes both in old wooden fruit crates and in wire mesh towers, and neither method produced great results. Potatoes love loose, sandy soil – which we most definitely do not have – and though we tried to create a healthy environment for potato growing, we did not succeed. We know that there was a certain amount of crop loss due to pests (harvesting half-eaten potatoes is so disappointing) but even that loss doesn’t account for our poor harvest. Like any good farmer, though, we’ll try again with a new system next year. Fresh, homegrown potatoes are absolutely worth the effort.

We’re growing our own fruit!

Though our potatoes were unsuccessful, we’re thrilled to report that we’re finally growing raspberries! Loyal readers might remember that we planted forty bare-root raspberry canes in our first farming season, and sadly experienced total crop failure. We replanted those forty this year, plus a few extra obtained from a friend’s thicket. And we’ve actually harvested raspberries! Pictured above is ‘Anne,’ a delicious yellow variety that produces fruit its first year. We’ll be cutting back the canes this winter once they’re dormant, and look forward to a bumper crop of raspberries next summer and fall.

The original Angry Bird.

One of our hens has gone broody, unfortunately, and now spends all of her time on the nest box squawking and pecking angrily at anyone who dares come close. Broodiness is beneficial if you’re raising chicks – obviously, those fragile eggs need protection – but is a trait that is intentionally bred out of most modern layers, since it means they no longer lay and become defensive and difficult. Broodiness can also be “transmitted” to other hens, which means that our egg production decreases. Ideally she’ll snap out of it once the three-week hatching period has passed, but it’s more likely that this will be a regular issue with this breed. Thankfully, we only have two of these Whiting Greens.

We grew a staggering amount of food this year!

Finally, we spent most of Saturday harvesting all of our remaining produce. We brought in over two hundred pounds just this weekend, meaning we probably grew about eight hundred pounds of food throughout the season. Our final harvest included green tomatoes, hundreds of sweet and spicy chile peppers, lots of volunteer squash from the compost pile, herbs for drying, tomatillos and more. Everything is warm and cozy in the sunroom; we’re clearly in desperate need of a root cellar because most of these vegetables should be kept cool, dark and dry for long-term storage. There is a lot of preserving to be done, but no doubt at all that we’ll eat well this winter.

And with that, we’re off to bundle up and tromp through the fresh snow to check on the animals. Wishing you a warm and safe week ahead.

Preserving season

Fresh, local fruit is one of the great joys of living where we do.

There is much to be done outdoors – plant garlic, collect seeds, tidy irrigation – but there is much to be done indoors, too. We are in the height of harvest season, and every available surface in our house is littered with canning jars, dehydrator trays and other preservation projects in various stages of completion. Our goal is to eat locally as much as possible, and in the dark months of winter and early spring, that means we eat from the pantry and freezer – but only if we’ve done the hard work in advance.

Homemade fruit leather makes a perfect healthy and portable snack.

Obviously, no one has to preserve and store the harvest any longer, and many would think the extra work we do this time of year is preposterous. Preservation is a dying art, because we live in a magical world where any food we might want, in season or not, is available with a single click. Also, most of us don’t grow our own food, so there’s even less incentive to preserve. Where our great-grandmothers might have been obligated to can their summer vegetables in order to have anything to eat in winter, we most definitely are not. And preserving can be tedious, time-consuming work. Why, then, go through all this extra effort?

Shredded zucchini, apples and carrots are portioned and frozen for easy muffins.

I preserve food for a lot of different reasons, but first and foremost I want to know what we’re eating. The modern food processing industry uses an arsenal of complicated, sketchy ingredients and technologies to store food in cans and jars, and I don’t want these unnecessary additives in our food. We also work really hard to grow food, and if we can’t eat it while it’s fresh, it seems a tragedy to just compost it – a huge waste of our time and effort, plus a lot of water. Preserving our own food also saves money – a single jar of high-end organic salsa could easily cost $7 – and though preserving takes time, it’s always worth it in darkest February when we’re able to eat something that tastes at least a little like summer. I also preserve because it allows me to make things that I’d never find in a store, and I can customize these foods to our own tastes. Fiery, garlicky fermented hot sauce? Pear-chocolate jam with crystallized ginger? Roasted red pepper and fennel confit? Applesauce made from just fresh, local apples and no added sugar? Making anything from scratch is about regaining some control over what we eat, rather than just blithely accepting whatever the big food companies choose to produce as cheaply as possible.

We dry, can and freeze our local peaches.

Preservation takes many forms, and to get the best results it’s important to understand the different methods and how they might affect the end product. Many people don’t think of freezing as preservation, but it’s certainly the most common nowadays. Like all preservation techniques, freezing alters the texture of food, so while it works well for some foods (most fruit freezes beautifully) it’s not great for others (lettuces and greens turn to mushy slime). We live in the heart of Colorado’s stone fruit region, so we freeze a lot of fresh peaches, cherries and apricots. If you find an amazing sale on fresh berries or another fruit you’d like to preserve, wash the fruit well and spread it in a single layer on a baking sheet. Once frozen solid, transfer the fruit into zip-top bags. This technique helps keep the fruit separated, rather than frozen together into one unusable chunk, and makes it easy to incorporate into smoothies, baked goods or jams. And while frozen vegetables get a bad rap, they’re frozen at the height of ripeness so are a much better choice than fresh most of the year. Plus, they’re priced really well! I’d rather eat frozen peas than starchy, out-of-season “fresh” peas any day.

Most of our peppers and tomatoes end up in salsa and hot sauce.

Water-bath canning is another common and easy preservation technique, and one that I use most frequently. Hot, sterilized glass jars are filled with salsa or jam or applesauce, or a million other foods, then the jars are vacuum-sealed in a pot of boiling water to create an airtight anaerobic environment where potentially harmful bacteria cannot survive. Canning works well for certain foods, but those foods need an acidic pH – not all foods are safe for water-bath canning – and in Colorado, at least, it’s imperative to adjust for altitude. Only use tested recipes for water-bath canning, and don’t create your own concoctions unless you have a reliable pH meter and a clear understanding of the science. Water-bath canning is definitely the most time-consuming method of food preservation, but if correctly processed the jars will last at least a year in a cool, dark, dry environment, and no electricity is required for storage.

In our climate, fresh herbs dry perfectly spread out on sheet pans.

We grow a lot of herbs, and those need to be preserved, too. Many people recommend using a microwave or dehydrator to dry herbs; while those methods might be necessary in more humid climates, in a high-plains desert the herbs simply need to be spread out and left alone. Plus, all the flavor in herbs comes from their delicate essential oils, and cooking the plants, even at a relatively low temperature, will remove most of that flavor. I collect my herbs in bunches and hang them to dry, or simply spread them out on a sheet pan. Once the herbs are dry enough to crumble, I remove the stems and crush the leaves into small labeled jars. As with all spices, dried herbs should be kept in a cool, dark and dry place, and used reasonably quickly.

Homegrown dried tomatoes add bright flavor to pasta and salads.

We also have a big nine-shelf dehydrator; it’s in service year-round for making yogurt, but during autumn it’s also regularly used for drying tomatoes, peaches and apples, plus making fruit leather. The dehydrator is far more efficient than an oven, and it’s easier to maintain the low temperatures required to dehydrate foods without rendering them too crunchy or dried out to eat. I’ve learned through trial and error that the dehydrator requires a lot of supervision – I’m constantly rotating the trays and removing pieces that are thoroughly dry – and I’ve had some loss due to mold, because I hadn’t removed enough moisture. If you’re doing a lot of preserving, however, a quality dehydrator is well worth the investment. Like canned goods, properly dehydrated foods don’t require electricity for long-term storage; since the water is removed, dehydrated foods are light and portable, making them perfect for camping, hiking and on-the-go snacks.

The before-and-after of our fiery fermented green hot sauce.

Finally, we also ferment foods. We love spicy foods and condiments, so much of our fermentation efforts go into hot sauces and kimchi. One lesson I’ve learned over the years is only to preserve the foods that our household will actually eat, so sauerkraut and pickles no longer earn a place in our pantry. While I do make “pickled” jalapenos for use in sandwiches and on pizza, fruits and vegetables that have been brined in a vinegar solution like those peppers aren’t truly pickled. Remember the mercantile store pickle barrels of yesteryear? Those are true lacto-fermented pickles, and they’re no longer considered food-safe for a variety of reasons. “Cheating” with vinegar isn’t actually pickling, but mostly accomplishes the same end result.

So pretty! But please don’t store your canned goods in the sun like this.

If you’re going to tackle any preservation projects, make sure you have the time, the space and the equipment required. Know the science and the rules and have a clear understanding of the end result you want to achieve, and the best method to get there. Also remember that preservation doesn’t make bad food good, so while you can definitely use cosmetically imperfect seconds, never use overripe or spoiled produce. Preserving the harvest might require a substantial investment of time and energy, but sourdough toast with bright, sunny peach jam, or piping-hot tomato soup with a swirl of pesto, on a cold winter’s day makes all that effort worthwhile.

Farm update: August 31

How are you doing out there, friends? Here at Quiet Farm we’re immensely grateful for clearer skies and cooler temperatures. We’re about seventy miles from the largest wildfire in Colorado’s history, and there were days over the past couple of weeks where it felt as though we lived inside of a barbecue grill. Although the air still smells of smoke, and we don’t have our crystalline blue skies back, conditions have definitely improved. We send our heartfelt thanks to all of the fire fighters, police officers, and other emergency services personnel who put their lives on the line every single day. Thank you.

Peaches 01 sml

To be eaten out of hand over the sink.

We went peach picking this past week; these are likely the last of this year’s harvest and ninety pounds are now nestled in boxes in our garage fridge awaiting processing. Colorado is most famous for its Palisade peaches, north of us in Mesa County; unfortunately – as though 2020 weren’t awful enough! – Palisade lost about eighty percent of its peach crop this year to that killing frost we had back in April. Our peach trees here in Delta County didn’t suffer nearly as badly (we did lose all of our cherries), so we’ll have local canned peaches in January that taste like liquid sunshine. (Fun fact: if you’re buying Palisade peaches on the Front Range, you should ask what orchard the fruit actually came from. Most of the peaches sold as “Palisade” this year didn’t come from Colorado, but from California. Also, in a season like this one, many of our Delta County peaches get rebranded as Palisade. Brand names sell, plain and simple.)

Fox 01 sml

Hunting with an audience.

N captured this early morning shot of our resident young fox hunting voles in our pasture. The magpies, never shy about their desire for a free meal, wait patiently in the hope that they too might share in the spoils. It’s tough to balance our ecosystem’s need for apex predators – we definitely want the fox to help control our rodent population, but we’d also like it to stay far away from our chickens. This debate is currently playing out on a much larger scale, as the Colorado ballot this November will ask whether voters want to reintroduce gray wolves, eradicated around 1940, in our part of the state. (Also please observe how beautiful that pasture looks. All credit to N for his mowing and irrigation work this season!)

Wheat 01 sml

‘Marquis’ spring wheat.

We grew wheat! We opted to participate in small-scale wheat trials this year, and while much of our trial crop was demolished by deer, rabbits and squirrels, and plenty more taken out by strong winds, we did harvest a few stalks. The wheat still needs to be separated from the chaff and field notes beg to be written, plus seed must be returned to the seed bank organizing the project. If we actually grew enough to bake a single loaf of bread, I’ll be amazed – but it’s really exciting to grow grains. In decades past, most regions in the U.S. had their own uniquely adapted grain varieties, and of course this also supported the mills and bakeries required to process those grains. Those disappeared in the centralization of agriculture, but local heritage grains are staging a resurgence across the country. We want to be part of that trend, even on a minuscule scale.

Cantaloupe 01 sml

Not bad for an unintentional crop.

We also grew melons! This is amusing because we didn’t plant any melons. We do, however, have a thriving compost pile, and members of the vast curcubit family (squash, cucumbers and melons) are notorious both for cross-pollinating and for volunteering in unexpected places. This miniature cantaloupe (each is about the size of a softball) appeared in the hot pepper bed, where the serranos and cayennes are flourishing. We have five or six mature fruits now, and are excited to harvest one to see what we grew. If it’s delicious, we’ll save the seeds in the hopes we can grow it again, and we’ll have a melon bred just for Quiet Farm!

Tomato Plate 01 sml

Definitely qualifies as a meal.

And finally, our tomatoes are coming on strong. The intense heat wave we’ve just endured definitely hastened the tomato ripening schedule, though we’ve obviously needed to irrigate much more frequently. This time of year we’re likely to have a tomato salad at every meal, if only because the season is so fleeting. No recipe needed: sun-warmed tomatoes, halved or quartered, good olive oil, thinly-sliced red onion, a few grinds of black pepper, basil and a generous sprinkling of crunchy salt. Fresh mozzarella, ricotta or cotija would obviously not go amiss here. Honestly, it’s summer in a bowl and we’ll make the most of it while it lasts.

With that, we’re off to tackle a busy week that will hopefully include a hay delivery, a pre-winter fireplace inspection and more than a few canning projects. Wishing you all safety and health.

How to make kimchi

A couple of years back, we all got really into probiotics. In the simplest terms, probiotics are beneficial microorganisms – bacteria and/or yeasts – in our surrounding environment and within our bodies that help keep us healthy. Since so many of us are regularly on antibiotics, which kill off both good and bad organisms indiscriminately, it makes sense that our bodies would be deficient in helpful bacteria. The rise of serious digestive-related disorders, too, indicated that our microbiome was in serious trouble.

Many of these health issues can be attributed to the fact that the vast majority of food we eat is completely, totally dead. I don’t mean dead in the literal sense, like how we turn a sad CAFO pig into even sadder pork chops, but dead in the sense that all life has been processed out of it. Instead of eating slightly muddy carrots, freshly dug, we eat “carrot chips” and drink “carrot juice,” which have been subjected to high-heat processing and irradiation and a million other complicated techniques, rendering that carrot into what Michael Pollan would call “an edible food-like substance.” It’s no longer actual, nutritious food; we’ve just been told it is.

Continue reading

The zucchini chronicles

Zucchinis 01 sml

This is only one day’s harvest!

(…or the courgette chronicles, for our English audience.) By now we’re likely all familiar with the time-honored adage about how rural residents only lock their cars in July and August, because that’s when a fiendish neighbor is most likely to deposit a bag of overgrown and unwanted zucchini on the passenger seat. It’s an apt joke, however; anyone who has grown summer squash knows that it absolutely has a mind of its own. One day, there are tiny flowers on the plant; not even twenty-four hours later, it seems, zucchini the size of baseball bats have taken over the garden. If not carefully monitored, these plants can become unmanageable very quickly.

Squash 01 sml

Please, someone, tell me what’s wrong with this zucchini plant?

I always think of zucchini (like my beloved kale) as a self-esteem boost for the gardener. It grows well in just about any conditions, needs little care and produces voluminously and reliably. Interestingly, this is the first season I’ve struggled with zucchini – of seven plants, four look like the photo above: small and stunted with initially green leaves that turn crisp and brown without growing larger. The plant keeps putting on new leaves, which promptly die; no blossoms or fruit appear. All of the seven plants are from the same seed and in the same bed and none are planted where squash grew last year; I’ve never seen anything like this. Are they diseased? Attacked by a mysterious pest? Why are three plants growing perfectly? If any experienced gardeners want to weigh in on this unexpected quandary, I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Continue reading

Farm update: August 3

“This pandemic feels like a relay race and if that means that every once in a while, you need to break down and freak out, that’s fine. We can carry the baton for each other while we lose it, gather strength, and then carry on. The world seems out of control, but we can control our kitchens and the good things that come out of them. That’s something.”

-Steve Sando, Rancho Gordo

Vegetables 01 sml

A daily harvest last week.

It’s reaching that point in the season when all of our hard work starts to pay off in abundance. Harvests now happen daily, rather than weekly or every few days, and a small bucket is required. Although the stars of summer – tomatoes and peppers – haven’t really come on yet, we’re swimming in greens, carrots, beets, onions, zucchini, fennel, kale and fresh herbs. It’s not going to be a great year for either winter squash or sweet peppers, much to our disappointment, and we fear that the squirrels have pre-harvested many of our potatoes. But we’re looking forward to cucumbers and fresh beans along with a (hopefully strong) tomato crop.

Continue reading

Farm update: July 20

“Still, I cook. We need to cook, after all, to nourish ourselves and those around us. We need to cook to feel better, to make others feel better, to get along. I may begin the process in weariness, but as often as not I end it in surprise and triumph, happy at least to have made something delicious, to have shared it with those with whom I shelter.”

-Sam Sifton, The New York Times

Quiche 01 sml

No longer trendy but still delicious.

One of the cruel ironies of being a farmer is that when the vegetables really start rolling in, it’s way too hot to cook. Plus, after twelve hours working in the blazing sun all we want is chilled watermelon and ice-cold beer – not exactly a balanced diet. Enter the quiche! Long a mainstay of stuffy, boring women’s luncheons, quiche is hopelessly out of fashion but so well-suited for hot summer months, especially when fresh eggs, vegetables and herbs are in abundance. I always bake first thing in the morning (the house doesn’t need any help heating up later in the day), and quiche is perfect warm, cold or at room temperature. It has a reputation for being terribly unhealthy, but loaded with broccoli, spinach, peppers and herbs, with just a little egg and sharp, savory cheese to bind it all together, it’s an ideal summer staple. Let’s bring quiche back!

Continue reading

Farm update: June 22

‘Tis the season of both growth and destruction. We spend most of our time weeding and watering and looking for new growth on our crops and in our pasture; in response, all of our crafty farm pests have come out with hunger in their tummies and destruction on their minds. Time spent not watering or weeding is instead spent defending our territory. It’s a hard-fought war of attrition out here, and both sides are digging their heels in.

Raspberry Growth 01 sml

A raspberry cane with reassuring new growth.

We’re so pleased to see new growth on most of our raspberry canes. You might remember that we planted forty canes last year and every single one failed; this year we regrouped with drip irrigation and we believe that made all the difference. Bramble fruits like raspberries and blackberries typically do well in our climate; we’d love to grow our own fruit as well as our own vegetables. We’re always, always learning out here, and we’re trying hard not to make the same mistakes twice. We like to make lots of different mistakes instead.

Continue reading

The meat of the matter

The past two months have exposed a great number of frailties in systems we’ve long taken for granted. From child care to health care, we’ve learned firsthand that most – if not all – of our societal structures are built on debt-ridden quicksand. Nowhere has this fragility been more apparent than in our food supply, long the envy of less-developed nations.

Meat 01 sml

Mmmm…meat in tubes. Delicious.

If you’ve ever traveled in the Caribbean or Africa or Asia – really, anywhere outside of the U.S. and Europe – you know that a standard Western grocery store is a thing of miracles. The glossy, perfect produce, appealingly stacked in lush displays. With artificial thunderstorms! Acres of cold-storage, displaying hygienically shrink-wrapped packages of beef, pork, chicken and fish, none of which resemble the animal they once were. The deli abounds with cheeses and olives and overflowing dishes of prepared foods, enticingly displayed on beds of ornamental kale.  Aisle upon aisle of boxed mixes and snack foods and sodas and candy and cookies and chips, plus thousands of cleaning products and toiletries and other various and sundry items, all brightly-colored and stocked in abundance. A standard Western grocery store never has bare shelves, because that violates its very reason for existing – that we have so much, we can replenish each item before it’s even made its way to the check-out.

Continue reading

The sourdough bandwagon

Here’s what N and I have learned in the five-odd weeks since this madness really kicked off: the things we’ve been doing for years – growing food, baking bread, keeping chickens, buying only secondhand, cutting our own hair – are exactly what all of America seems to want to do right now. Listen up, everyone: we’re cool and we’re on-trend and we are probably influencers too. We’re going to call ourselves influencers, anyway. We’d like to influence you to bake sourdough, mostly because no one can find any yeast yet people still really, really like fresh bread.

Sourdough 05 sml

Really, what’s better than fresh bread and good butter?

I’m not at all surprised by the gardening and the bread baking, truly. People have extra time on their hands and want to do something both purposeful and satisfying, plus spring has arrived in most places and it’s a pleasure to be outside. But the sourdough thing? That did take me by surprise, as sourdough has a reputation for being so tricky and difficult and obsessive and a little weird because people name their sourdough starters and refer to them as pets. But then of course all of the country’s commercial yeast disappeared somewhere so it’s only natural that everyone would turn to sourdough, and people also need new pets in this time of isolation, kind of like Wilson in Castaway, so it all sort of makes sense.

Continue reading