The New Coop

The first coop we bought for our chickens was a a fancy little A-frame that we thought would look nice in our yard. The description of the coop clearly stated that it was large enough for three, possibly four, medium-sized hens. As I have done in so many other instances totally unrelated to chickens, I disregarded knowledge and caved in to emotion. Surely, such an attractive little coop could be made to work. We had three  medium-sized chickens. The problem was we also had three heavy-breed chickens. By the time the chickens were getting ready to lay, it was obvious that our current set-up would never do. The chickens were falling out of the roosting area, they were having to sleep in the nest, and the weather was beginning to warm up. It would soon be stifling in the small sleeping area. I became concerned about their health--and mine. After all, we are raising the chickens because we want healthy food from healthy animals. There was only one thing to do--get a larger coop. Happy chickens lay eggs, and we wanted happy chickens!

Enter my son-in-law Henry. I am not going to carry on about all of the talents Henry has. I'll focus on this one--he is a master carpenter who works with wood as a way of relieving all of the stresses his real job lays upon him. He saw the need for a new coop, and he offered to build it--bless him! In one weekend he built the coop I have pictured below. On Saturday morning we sat together to draw up a plan, and by Sunday evening it was complete. The girls have been living in it since March, and it has just been a godsend for them and for us.

We sited the coop between two star magnolia trees.
 This left little room for a ramp, so we asked the girls to hop on a  concrete block
 to get into the coop. They easily complied.

Big Mama Thornton is using  one of two nest boxes. The coop has space for  four boxes,
 but  two are  enough for our six chickens.

We are using the two extra nest box spaces as areas to hold water and food.
  This comes in handy if we are late letting them out in the morning.

The clean-out doors are in back of the coop. By designing the coop with the raised part
 in the back, Harvey (6'2") is able to clean the coop without having to bend over.

The nest boxes are built inside the coop rather than jutting outside the front of the coop. There are six ventilation holes on each side of the coop, in addition to the large screened area in front--lots of fresh air.

At first we didn't know if the hens could jump up to the roost, so we put a small portable roost  under the  large  green roost you see at the top of the picture. The small roost wasn't needed and was soon removed.

The tops of the nest boxes are covered with tin (edges carefully placed so the chickens do not cut themselves) so the chickens are not able to sit on top. The roosting bar is partially blocking the view of the curtains
 I made for the nest boxes.  There was a bit too much light in the coop, so I cut a piece
of fabric into strips and stapled it to the front of the boxes.
Works great!

The chickens' litter is cleaned daily. I don't think any chickens ever had it so good.
 Their coop is becoming known around the neighborhood as the Chicken Hilton.

Laura is coming to check for an empty nest.

The morning is a busy time--hens coming and going.

Rhoda is taking advantage of her perch to check out the neighborhood.

Generally, the hens lay six eggs a day. Six eggs for six chickens.
If happy chickens lay eggs,
our chickens are definitely happy with their new coop.

Thank you, Henry!

Lâche pas la patate! (Don't Drop the Potato!)

One of the childhood games I remember playing was called "Hot Potato." Several of us would sit in a circle; one of us holding an object dubbed the "potato." The object of the game was to toss the potato to another person in the circle who, in turn, had to quickly, without fully wrapping fingers around the "hot potato," toss it to another person--and so on until you missed the catch or were deemed to have held that potato too long in your hands and were declared "burned" by your fellow players.

January to June must be the busiest time of the gardening year. I've been starting plants from seeds, transplanting seedlings, watering the garden, turning compost, watering the garden, fertilizing, spraying, and did I mention watering the garden? This blog has been preying on my guilty mind, but there was just no time to get here. Now that temperatures are up in the nineties, I am trying to postpone the heavy-lifting until late afternoon. I thought this might be the perfect time to spend a minute to show you the potato harvest.

Luckily, my friend Jim stops by on a regular basis to give me some garden guidance. I told him I thought my potato plants were looking poorly--pale green, spotted leaves, spindly stalks--what did they need? The answer was simple: they needed to be harvested. 

The cage has been removed and the plant emptied
into a large bin for easy potato diving.

Low and behold! I had no idea they grew down there
at the bottom of the plant!

French fingerling potatoes--all shiny and new.

Just a beautiful sight.

Jim explains the difference between old and new potatoes--dark
ones are the seed potatoes, lighter ones are the new potatoes.

I am thrilled with my little harvest.  Isn't life grand?

Old and new potatoes to be roasted with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

Buttercrean and Russian bananas harvested
a few days later went into my annual
potato salad.

Growing potatoes in containers can work. There is room for improvement, however, and there are a couple of things I will do differently next time. I will err on the side of planting too few potatoes per pot instead of too many in order to give the potatoes more room to grow, and I will probably not go quite so high with my "hills." I think the plants could have used a rest from having to reach so high throughout their growing season. They should have been able to kick back and relax after stretching a foot and a half up the cage. At least, those are my theories. And of course, my garden is always about experimentation.

Now, back to that wonderful Cajun French idiom, "Lâche pas la patate!"  (Don't drop the potato!) Unlike the game I played as a child, this phrase isn't really referring to a potato at all. It means that you should keep going, manage all of the things you have to do, and get them done. No small task for a gardener. No small task for a gardener who wants to keep a blog about the experience. But here I go. "Lâche pas la patate!"

Patio Potatoes

Another experiment!

Always looking for another way, I set about finding a way to grow potatoes in containers. My limited garden space and my expanding desire to grow more plant varieties left me with little choice but to rely on container gardening for a few of the vegetables--and potatoes made the cut. I planted French fingerlings, Russian bananas, and a yellow-fleshed variety whose name escapes me at the moment. I know I was supposed to plant seed potatoes, but instead I went straight to Fresh Market, bought bags of organic potatoes, and stuck a few of them into each pot. 

After watching several You-tube videos and reading about the necessity of hilling potato plants, I came up with the following set up. The plants are "hilled" with a mulch of dried leaves and straw, and now that they have reached the top of the wire cage, they are going to have to fend for themselves. 

A few blossoms are appearing on one of my plants. Hopefully there will be more. I'd like to say I grew the potatoes that go into the potato salad I make annually.  Any more potatoes than that would require that I take another road trip to drop them off to family members who are already master potato growers. 

A small harvest would be fine. I'm pretty sure I'm going to get my wish.

These Are Really Supposed To Be On The Chicken Page

Here are a few pictures of five of our six hens--Big Mama Thornton (Black Star) was on the nest when these were taken.

Left to Right: Black Australorp (Laura); Lace Wyandotte--backside view (Lacey);
Buff Orpington (Buffy); Black Sex Link (Stella); Rhode Island Red (Rhoda)

Dust bathing near a mushroom bed.

Mushroom logs are just visible.

When they hear my voice, they come flying over to see what kind of treat I've brought. Usually its sprouts and yogurt or fresh greens. I know--I do spoil them.

They are really lovely chickens.

Beautiful birds--and they give me eggs!

Il Fait Chaud!

I have been surprised by the number of "volunteers" that have shown up in my garden: sunflowers, tomatoes, squash, zinnias, and others that I have lumped into the general category of Weeds. As I weed out the intruders, I blame our compost for not being hot enough to kill the seeds that I so nonchalantly threw into the pile. Of course, blaming the compost pile is just kicking the dog. There is someone to blame, but it isn't the dog (we don't have one). I have a feeling I have met the enemy, and it is us!

Steps had to be taken to get our compost pile into shape. For a compost pile to get really hot, between 140 and 160 degrees, you need to have an appropriate mix of ingredients: 1 part nitrogen to 3 parts carbon. That means that high nitrogen sources like vegetable wastes from the kitchen or garden and  manure must be layered into a pile with a significant amount of carbon sources like dried leaves and mulches. In addition, the pile must be turned regularly. This requires getting out there with a pitch fork and moving all 100 cubic feet of material (5x5x4 feet) from the layered pile to another pile, preferably right beside it, thereby turning the original pile upside down. This aerates the material and serves to stimulate all the microorganisms, causing them to throw a big party, eat a lot of food, and generate an awful lot of heat. Turning the pile every few weeks should cause all of the material to break down within a couple of months into beautiful black compost that will fertilize the garden without adding to your personal stress level by forcing you to decide whether the green you see emerging from the ground is something you planted this season or something you ate last season.

So off we went to get the compost pile in order. It took three hours of hard work, but we had everything turned and rebuilt, with heat coming off of it almost immediately.

Now you may think you have read the main point of this post, but you haven't. There is more to this story, and it has to do with the fact that the long awaited day has arrived--our chickens have begun to lay!!!

Our first egg was delivered by Laura the Australorp on March 27 at 9:48 a.m. (How's that for dramatic effect!) It just so happened that I was watching the coop as she came down the ramp and made her announcement to the world. We immediately gathered the very small first egg, and though the egg had a  crack where she had perhaps given it a peck to see if it really was real, we just could not keep from grinning as we examined the color and hardness of the shell. After turning it over several times, noting its heft, we decided that because of the crack, the egg would have to go into the compost pile.

After an appropriate period of ooh-ing and aah-ing, both Harvey and I went our separate ways to work on the lists we had made for ourselves. About forty-five minutes later, we met in the kitchen for coffee. I asked to see the egg so that I could check on the color and consistency of the yolk. The egg, however, had already been put into the compost--buried in the pile where all of those partying microbes were. Of course, there was no getting around it. The egg had to be retrieved so that we could crack it open to see the inside, and of course, that was Harvey's job.

Harvey returned, grinning as he put the hot little orb into my hand. "It's probably cooked," he said jokingly.

And there you have it. An egg that almost meets the requirement for a soft-boiled egg--cooked in the compost pile in a very short period of time!

Tonight's supper is a foil-pack dinner (bits of steak, potatoes, and carrots wrapped in foil) a la compost. It's great to know we have our own alternate source of energy--and it is some hot!

P.S. Just joking about dinner, but who knows....

Music Week!

What a week for great music!


On Wednesday night Harvey and I went to see Stanley "Buckwheat" Dural, Jr., perform at the Sliman Theatre in downtown New Iberia. Buckwheat, or Buckwheat Zydeco--as the group is known, has been playing music for more than thirty years, has toured all over the world, and when they came home to Louisiana and scheduled a performance in New Iberia, it was time to celebrate!


Friends on Allen Street invited us over for pre-show sandwiches and drinks. We are not talking about white bread sandwiches, though those are to die for since I never buy white bread. No, these sandwiches were made with homemade focaccia, an Italian flatbread--tender, salty, airy, perfect for enclosing meat and cheese, drizzling with olive oil, or stuffing with herbs and seasonings. Of course, you can do any of those things one at a time--or all three of them at one time. When someone invites you to have a sandwich made with homemade focaccia, don't ever refuse.


Since this was a Buckwheat Celebration, I offered to bring a buckwheat dish, though I had no idea what that might be. Who cooks with buckwheat? I've heard of buckwheat pancakes, but that was out of the question since we already had great bread in the works. Of course, Google came to the rescue. I found what I was looking for at 101 Cookbooks. All of the cookie recipes on this site look terrific, and I can vouch for the Nibby Buckwheat Butter Cookies, though I changed the recipe slightly to Chippy Buckwheat (Zydeco) Butter Cookies--a bit longer title, but a good deal less expensive since my cookies were made with chocolate chips at $3.00 a pound, instead of cacao nibs at $15.00 a pound! I've never tasted cacao nibs, so I don't know what I'm missing. It must be close to a religious experience at that price--and I might pay it one of these days--just once!


The food was delicious and Buckwheat was great! That was Wednesday.


Thursday night's memorable musical performance was part of a series put on by the Performing Arts Society of Acadiana (PASA). The moderator for the evening introduced the performers with these words: This is possibly one of the best performances PASA has ever brought to Lafayette [or something like that]! PASA has brought some terrific performances to Lafayette, so who could blame me for being a little skeptical.


I shouldn't have been. Bela Fleck, Zakir Hussain and Edgar Meyer were not just good; they were not just great; they were not just fabulous--they were the best! Each musician is a virtuoso on his instrument. Each one individually has enough talent to hold an audience spell-bound for an entire performance. Having all three on the stage at once, hearing them perform so beautifully as a trio, truly was a religious experience!


That was Thursday. Friday was lecture night with Dr. Glenn Albrecht. 


This was Music Week. "Solastalgia" will have to wait for another day.

Joan Gussow: This Organic Life

Today, after cooking a birthday meal for my granddaughter (local, fresh, nutritious everything), I spent the afternoon reading the final chapters of This Organic Life: Confessions of a Suburban Homesteader by Joan Dye Gussow. Being introduced to the work of Joan Gussow was a serendipitous outcome of the urban chicken-keeping talk I gave at the library last week. During one of the symposium breaks, a participant came up to me and said that my talk reminded her of Joan's book. Needless to say, I was intrigued and went out to buy a copy the next day. I have been amazed to find that Joan Gussow recognized the unsustainability of our food system more than forty years ago and has been teaching, lecturing, and growing her own food as a moral imperative ever since.

As I look back at the last sentence I am struck by the term that almost automatically appeared in the line of text: moral imperative. Just what do I mean by that? I would define it as an issue of justice that has arisen within a person's own frame of reference for what is right and wrong. It does not depend on dogma or rules of any organization or group, and it is held as a valid call to action by the individual holding the belief. Food brings with it justice issues. There are issues of health that relate to food safety and nutrition, or lack thereof. There are issues of fairness related to government subsidies, labor rights, and equitable and responsible use of non-renewable resources used in food production. There are issues related to the tying of a country's food supply system to a capitalist economic system that serves only growth and profits. At some point there will enter a counter, a moral imperative, that will insist upon a regard not just for profits, but also for the health of the community, people and planet, the food system serves.

Forty years ago, while I was a new mother unthinkingly buying every kind of canned baby food sold at the A&P grocery, Joan Gussow understood our flawed food system and had begun growing her own food. (Unlike many who have been "born again," she is a "flexible fanatic" who will buy food at farmer's markets or farm stands near her home, but she is ever aware of the real cost, economic and social, of food--and that applies to the food she grows as well as the food she buys.) It has taken quite a few years for me to reach the level of understanding that would compel me to turn our front lawn into a garden, but there it is--and though I am nowhere near growing all of our food, I am surprised by how much food I actually do grow. Broccoli was a bumper for us this winter, as were beets, carrots, cabbages, and Swiss chard. We have grown our own lettuces for over a year. I have changed considerably over the last forty years--as everyone is likely to do. And though my past includes many food-processed "sins," I have to say-- I never, ever bought a package of Hamburger Helper.

That reminds me of a Buddhist saying, "When the student is ready, the teacher appears." In the last couple of years, several teachers have appeared that have set me off on a journey of discovery that has been fulfilling in mind, spirit, and especially, body! If I were to make of list of influential  "food" teachers, people who have helped me to develop my own moral imperative related to food justice, Michael Pollan would have to have a prominent spot, along with Frances Moore Lappe, and the family and friends who have given me sage advice in getting my garden to grow. Now I can add Joan Gussow's name to the list of people who have fueled my passion for growing my own food, for supporting local farmers and farmer's markets, and for bolstering my determination to stay away from processed foods--except for an occasional pint of Haagen Dazs.

Information Resources on Chicken Page

On the Chicken page you will find a resource page that I will be distributing to the attendees at the Garden Symposium being held at the St. Peter Street branch of the Iberia Parish Library this Saturday, March 12. I will be one of the presenters discussing the raising of chickens within city limits. They say stranger things have happened!

Joel Salatin on Food Safety - If Monsanto's For It...

Modern-day Farmer Guru--Joel Salatin of Polyface Farm.

Zsa Zsa Revisited

It appears there is a progression gardeners travel as they make their way through the seasons.

My first attempts at gardening were made with seedlings. Seedlings are for insecure gardeners--those who are not sure this is going to work, but starting with plants that are alive and green would seem to give even the blackest thumb a chance for success. Of course, it doesn't really work out that way. Many, many plants have to die before you begin listening to their wilting leaves and give them the food, water, and light they insist upon having. No matter how much you wanted those zinnias to bloom in the shade of the crepe myrtles, their stubbornness will trump yours every time.

After a few successes with seedlings, seed catalogs take on a new level of fascination. Each one that comes through the mail slot is greeted with a small leap of excitement and a quick flip through the pages. Then it's left on the counter in anticipation of examining every page during your midmorning coffee break. The seed descriptions are irresistible, and it isn't long before small boxes with packages and more packages of seeds begin arriving at your door. Never will you plant all of the seeds, but you do not know that when you first become intoxicated with seed catalogs and their writers.

I think the next stage, which I have not yet entered, is the collecting of seeds from mature plants. I think there is an art to knowing when the seed is actually ready--pick it too soon and it will tend to get moldy, too late and it will be dried out. And it also helps to know what the seed actually looks like.

At this point, I am fascinated with seeds and seed catalogs. I am not interested in the seedlings at big box stores, I'm interested in grow lights. And that is the real story here.

One of the important bits of information I got from the Southern SAWG conference was a money-saving tip about setting up a grow light. Instead of buying the expensive florescent bulbs made especially for growing plants, a two-bulb florescent shop light fitted with one cool bulb and one warm bulb will provide enough of the light spectrum for growing plants at about half the price of the specialized bulb. It was with this bit of information that Harvey and I set out for Lowe's to get the equipment needed for our own grow light. (Why does this sentence set off an emotion in me that borders on the anxiety of making the first step into a South American jungle?)

I don't know if you have tried to buy a florescent bulb lately (in the last twenty years), but it is not so simple as  finding the bulb aisle and picking up a couple of bulbs. There are choices for every kind of light imaginable--and unimaginable in the case of Harvey and me. There were cool white, sunshine, aquarium, bright white, plant and aquarium, soft white, daylight white...and by this time my stomach was in a knot. What's cool and what's hot? Simple question, difficult answer. Eventually, we settled on two bulbs that had cool and warm in their light descriptions and hoped for the best.

Getting the grow light set up presented another set of problems. We don't have a green house (well, actually we do--green siding all around), and space is limited since we have filled our house over the years with books and musical instruments. The grow light would need to be set up on the porch. But where and how? Our porch has been the place where numerous projects have been undertaken, not the least of which is broodering small chicks. Now it was time to think about it as a plant nursery.

Our porch is the place where I drink my first cup of coffee. Usually I am there before the sun is up. I sip my coffee and read under the soft light of a small lamp. This ritual could not be disturbed by the harsh light of florescent bulbs, no matter how much I wanted to watch the miracle of germination. Enter Zsa Zsa Gabor and the Green Acres crew.

But, Dah-ling, ve can not hang ze light--eet vill disturb me. Can't ve just prop eet up? Here--use these!

And that is how our shop light came to be supported by the only thing I could find that would fit into the space between the two bulbs--a pair of crystal candlesticks. The light fits on the floor between an old cypress table that holds my reading lamp and the chair that I sit in each morning. The light does not disturb the early morning dark, and so far, we are having success. The plants are beginning to grow. But what will I do when the light needs to be raised?

Vell, dah-ling, ve will put some preety books under ze candlesticks!

Don't Give Up !

New posts coming soon:

Zsa Zsa Revisited
Harvey and King Stropheria
Chicken Movie With a Plot!

Shared Buzz About Bees

I'm sharing an email I received from Slow Food USA. Please take a few minutes to read it and sign the petition. Keep the buzz alive!

Dear Opal, Spring's going to be a lot quieter this year. Something is killing off almost 40% of North American honeybees each year, and it's threatening our entire food chain. Mounting scientific evidence suggests agricultural pesticides are one of the culprits. The Environmental Protection Agency has the power to investigate and ban the pesticides thought to be responsible but, despite their own scientists' advice and under pressure from pesticides companies, they're dragging their feet. Much of the plant-life we depend on for food exists thanks to honeybees. Now the bees are depending on us to return the favor. Click here to sign our petition calling on the EPA to solve the mystery that's killing our buzz: http://org2.democracyinaction.org/o/5986/p/dia/action/public/?action_KEY=5833 Bees don't just make honey: from apples to lemons, much of the food we eat may disappear with the bees. Even milk and beef production could be threatened: guess what makes the plants that feed the cows? Our friend the honeybee. What's more, bees add $15 billion to the annual US economy, and their loss will have a devastating impact on food production and food prices. But the EPA is under pressure to do nothing about it from pesticide companies and the pesticide 'scientists' those companies bankroll. The EPA has already acknowledged it should look into the causes of "Colony Collapse Disorder". We need to counter the pesticide lobby's pressure and hold the EPA to that commitment, by sending them a message they can't ignore: http://org2.democracyinaction.org/o/5986/p/dia/action/public/?action_KEY=5833 Everyone stands to lose with the threat to our food chain known as CCD. That's why everyone needs to stand together to counter the pressure the EPA is under not to do it's job:protect the things we rely on to survive. Many Slow Food chapters are also hosting screenings of a new CCD documentary, Vanishing of the Bees. It's a great way to get together in your community and learn more about what you can do to help solve this problem. Time and again Slow Food members get together to celebrate the importance of food. It's now the time to take action to protect that which binds us together, and stand up for the bees that make it all possible. Thanks for spreading the buzz, The Slow Food USA team PS - Can you help spread the buzz? For every 100 signatures we collect on our petition to protect the bees we depend on for our food, we'll send a bee-shaped postcard to the Director of the EPA’s Pesticide Programs. Imagine those on the wall the next time the pesticide lobby pops in!

Slow Food USA and the Slow Food USA Logo are registered trademarks of Slow Food USA. 20 Jay Street, Suite M04 Brooklyn, NY 11201 Tel: 718 260-8000 or 877 SlowFoo(d) Fax: 718 260-8068info@slowfoodusa.org

Our Girls Taking a Bath

Dr. Weil & Environmental Working Group Shopper's Guide

Here is a short video by Dr. Andrew Weil giving information about when and why you should buy organic fruits and vegetables. The lists, commonly known as the Clean 15 and the Dirty Dozen are included below.

Dr. Andrew Weil on EWG's Shopper's Guide to Pesticides

Foods You Should Always Buy Organic (Dirty Dozen)

• Celery
• Peaches
• Strawberries
• Apples
• Blueberries (Domestic)
• Nectarines
• Sweet Bell Peppers
• Spinach
• Collard Greens/Kale
• Cherries
• Potatoes
• Grapes (Imported)

Foods You Don't Have to Buy Organic (Clean 15)

• Onions
• Avocados
• Sweet Corn
• Pineapples
• Mangoes
• Sweet Peas
• Asparagus
• Kiwi
• Cabbage
• Eggplant
• Cantaloupe (Domestic)
• Watermelon
• Grapefruit
• Sweet Potatoes
• Honeydew Melon

Bees in the Garden

Gardening is not only about cultivating plants. Bees, those fabulous pollinators, have found a welcome center in our garden. This winter my largest broccoli head was left to flower because the bees were so enamored with it, and here Harvey has captured pictures of bees enjoying some of our camellia blossoms.

 

...But Can You Change a Tire?

I seldom invite guests for dinner without making at least one dish that I've never cooked before. This goes against all conventional wisdom which says that you should prepare favorite recipes for your guests--implying that you've eaten the dish at least once before company knocks at the door.

My way of looking at dinner parties is a bit skewed: I tend toward the Thelma and Louise approach of taking a great leap and letting the landing take care of itself. Since I'm not the type to drive cars off cliffs or parachute out of airplanes, I suppose this small quirk gives me a shot of adrenaline seldom found in those tried and true recipes. Over the years, I've used this approach with mostly successful results, primarily because I read recipes like I read novels. I taste every ingredient as my eyes run down the list. The rising action begins with the first step, and becomes more intense as I make my way toward the final "Bake at ..." or "Serve with ..." instruction. By the time everyone is seated at the table and ready to take their first bites, I am holding my breath, waiting to see if the story is going to have a happy ending. Usually it does, or something fairly close to one, but if it doesn't, I'm the first to say, "Have more cheese, bread, and wine. A toast to happy endings!"

This weekend I had the pleasure of preparing a meal for two very dear friends, and since they were so close to me, I knew I could really do some experimentation on them. I thought about what might be simple and satisfying and delicious, and came up with pasta, sauteed chard and spinach, and French bread. My friends were bringing dessert, and there really wasn't a need for salad. Simple, satisfying, and delicious. The menu fit the bill.

Now, when I say simple, I am not necessarily talking about difficulty of preparation. Synonyms for simple in my dictionary would be comforting; with an aura of ease. Those synonyms, however, have nothing to do with the time and effort I am willing to devote to a dish that will be served to dear friends. And for this dinner party, I decided on pumpkin ravioli as the pasta dish. Comforting, definitely; with an aura of ease, mostly.

It was time to get out my favorite Italian cookbooks and my pasta maker. Italian cookery is so beautifully frugal and delicious, it is the ultimate comfort food as well as the perfect food to serve guests. I decided to combine some ideas I found in ravioli recipes with a variety of fillings: squash, pumpkin, and sweet potato. I used a lovely Musquee de Provence pumpkin that I had had since Thanksgiving, along with spices and seasonings, for the filling (recipe will soon be added to the Cooking page). Although the book said the recipe would serve six, one three-egg batch of pasta did not provide enough of a comfort zone for quantity, so I made two. This decision proved to be the right one--as you might imagine, there was quite a learning curve in making a presentable ravioli.

The meal was lovely--delicious food and wonderful company. I do believe that both food and company have a synergism that serves to  improve both. Ordinary food can become the most memorable meal because of the people with whom you are sharing it. The pasta bowl was served with a bed of chard and spinach under the pumpkin ravioli that had first been tossed with butter and grated Parmesan. On the table was a loaf of crusty whole wheat French bread and a bottle of Merlot. And for dessert, peach pie with coffee. Life is good!

We lingered over dinner; we talked on for hours. We toasted the Egyptians who gave the world a beautiful example of how governments can be made answerable to the people, and we made every attempt to find answers to all of the social problems that thoughtful people everywhere are trying to solve. The evening drew to a close around one o'clock in the morning, and we bid our guests good-night with hugs and be careful admonishments.

Harvey and I were beginning to pick up plates and wine glasses when we heard a light tapping at the door. Our guests were back. Their car had a flat tire, and they came seeking advice from Harvey and me about what they should do. The answer was simple. None of us had a clue about how to change a tire; it was one o'clock in the morning; all of us were tired; we would all go to bed, and like Scarlet O'Hara, we would think about it in the morning. And so we did.

In the morning, we called a garage and had a person who knew what the four of us did not know come over and change the tire. Now, what's wrong with this picture? I love a challenge--I make ravioli; I make bread; there is nothing I will not try in the kitchen. Yet I cannot do the most basic thing that all drivers should be able to do. Tomorrow there will be no breakfast until I go out and find out where the jack is hidden. Then I'm going to change a tire!

Solastalgia

Today is my sixty-fourth birthday, and I must admit that I am developing some characteristics of the people I pitied in my younger years--the ones who talked about "the good ole days" and found much to criticize about modern life. But just as the paranoid said he wouldn't be paranoid if so many people weren't against him, perhaps there wouldn't be so many things to criticize about modern life if there weren't so many things wrong with it!

This morning I found a glimmer of hope in an email from a long-time friend. Her birthday good wishes were accompanied by information about some of the work she is currently doing. I have included a flyer which announces an upcoming conference that seems perfectly fitting for those of you who, like me, wonder how we might find a better fit in a world we are no longer, and maybe never have been, able to understand.

Longing for Home Without Ever Leaving

The 55th Annual Louisiana Folklore Society Meeting

March 25th and 26th, 2011

Lafayette, Louisiana— It’s a peculiar homesickness. It’s something that occurs when, instead of leaving home, home leaves you. The people of South Louisiana have an intimate understanding of it. Hurricanes, breached levees, coastal erosion, oil spills, a drilling moratorium, the commercialization of a culture—our sense of home is under constant threat, and a nagging feeling of loss is widespread. It’s called solastalgia, and it is the theme of this year’s Louisiana Folklore Society Meeting.

The University of Louisiana at Lafayette is hosting the 55^th Annual Louisiana Folklore Society Meeting. From Murdock University in Perth Western Australia, Dr. Glenn Albrecht will deliver a keynote address about solastalgia on Friday, March 25^th at 7:00 p.m. at the Acadiana Center for the Arts. This event is free and open to the public.

On Saturday, March 26^th, 9:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. presentations will be delivered at UL’s Dupre Library, 300 West Congress, by scholars from various universities with topics ranging from the coping strategies of a cattle rancher along an eroding coast, to reviving a Native American language, to the creative refiguring of coastal homes threatened by rising waters, moving them up, not out. This event is open to the public. A small registration fee is required.

Dr. Albrecht’s keynote address will reflect his recent publication on ecosystem sustainability where he presents the concept of solastalgia, a form of human distress related to the lived experience of negatively perceived environmental change. It is the longing for home without ever leaving. His work has garnered the attention of New York Times Magazine, Wired, and WorldChanging.

Today, Dr. Albrecht conducts a collaborative study into the relationship between human and ecosystem health in a coal-mining region in Australia.  His keynote address will explain the similarities and differences between that project and Louisiana. “The connections between my work and Louisiana are many and varied,” says Dr. Albrecht. “What has happened in Louisiana has also taken place in Australia, especially with land clearing and dry land salinity, loss of coastal wetlands, and now, huge issues with our major river, the Murray-Darling with over-engineering and over-allocation of water permits. And ‘the big one’ of course, climate change impacting on everything.”

Dr. Albrecht goes on to explain, “due to complex consequences of our actions, or inactions, natural systems are in distress. Such distress in nature is then replicated in human culture and our health. We have multiple interacting syndromes of distress in nature, culture, physical and mental health. When I think about it, the total impact of Louisiana Distress Syndrome (LDS) is really no different than that of Western Australia Distress Syndrome.”

Conni Castille, Vice President of the Louisiana Folklore Society, says that “this meeting’s theme is a first step toward bringing Louisiana residents together to share stories on our rapidly changing home. It is why we invited Dr. Albrecht to give the keynote address. His presentation will explore the full implications associated with the collapse of our physical and mental health, caused by things we’ve done or allowed to be done.”

“Restoration and repair of damaged biophysical landscapes,” suggests Dr. Albrecht, “can only occur once we address the damage done to our conceptual, cultural, and emotional landscapes.”

                We encourage and welcome the general public to both of these events. For a schedule of Saturday’s presentations, visit www.louisianafolklife.org or visit us at Facebook. Contact 337-277-5292 for more information. Sponsors include University of Louisiana, Murdoch University, Acadiana Center for the Arts, and The Independent Weekly.

Make Your Own Yogurt!

Quick and easy, though you'd never know it from the length of the directions. Check out the instructions on the Cooking page.

A Food Manifesto for the Future

Read Mark Bittman's column in the New York Times.

Healthy food for thought...and if you feel so inclined, send this link to a few friends of yours. That will be a positive and direct action that will move us closer to the goal of healthy food for everyone.

http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/02/01/a-food-manifesto-for-the-future/?src=me&ref=general

P.S. Nothing bad will happen to you, at least not immediately, if you decide not to spread the word--but I'll be so disappointed.

A New Rule

Every few months, a new rule intended to improve life at our house is issued--by me, of course. The latest pronouncement, after considering the USDA's and Dr. Weil's number of recommended daily vegetable servings, states that we should be eating vegetables not only at lunch and supper, but also at breakfast.  Harvey, being the appreciative consumer of just about everything I prepare, smiled and urged me on in my effort to continuously improve our diet.

Since then we have had greens for breakfast, carrot sticks as "fruit", and steamed broccoli as an amuse-bouche before delving into the warm comfort of grits and eggs. You might be saying, "Fine. Do what you like at your house." But, as of yesterday, I have pushed the envelope and actually tried out my new rule on unsuspecting friends.

They arrived on one of the coldest days of the year, wrapped in scarves and heavy coats, anticipating some form of classic breakfast fare that would compensate them for having to leave their down-comforted beds--grits, bacon, eggs, toast, orange juice, hot coffee, and more hot coffee. They did not know about my rule, and in my shrewdness, I waited to tell them until after everyone unwrapped and had a cup of coffee placed in front of them. By then it was too late to turn back.

Breakfast began with a small glass of freshly "squeezed" carrot juice (masticated is not a word I use at the breakfast table, though that is, in fact, how carrot juice is made--using my huge twenty-year-old Champion juicer). Guests: weak smiles; Harvey: big grin.

Undaunted, I heat a smear of olive oil in a skillet and drop in ribbons of Swiss chard and spinach, along with a handful of green onions. I light the griddle and drop a small block of butter onto the hot surface, followed quickly by eight eggs. The oven has been on for about twenty minutes heating a dish of lima beans and a loaf of pumpkin bread. Everything comes together in minutes.

The plates are served:  Sauteed Chard and Spinach topped with Rosemary Lima Beans, and finished with two fried eggs--whites lacey and crunchy along the edge. The Pumpkin Bread is sliced, warm and spicy. Eyes widen and smiles break at the sight of this rule-breaking breakfast fare. Guests: raves; Harvey, raves.

Now, who can deny that we need to eat vegetables at breakfast!

Killer at Large

We really don't sit around watching movies all day--but we do watch a few. The latest is Killer at Large. It's not some psycho-drama set in Fargo, N.D., or on the rocky coast of Maine. It is, once again, a documentary about the need to overhaul our food policies for health and safety.


The movie addresses the nationally recognized health problems of obesity and Type II diabetes, and their connection to governmental policy (subsidizing unhealthy Big Food, while sustainable and organic farmers are left to fend for themselves). If there is not a major turnaround in food policy and dietary patterns, children today will have a shorter projected life-span than you and I. But to get the American diet turned around, the life-line of $upport that Big Food provides to politicians will have to be cut. This means that few, if any, in Congress will be willing to take on this problem in a meaningful way. There aren't many Davids out there. 

The movie includes appearances by several activists who are trying to educate the public about unjust and unfair governmental food policy, inadequate food safety regulations, and the connection of both to rising health care costs. The government's inaction in overhauling its policies favoring the Big Food industry is making us sick, thereby contributing to the health-care crisis we are now facing, not to mention the deaths directly related to food-borne illnesses and the poor prognosis for our children's quality of life. 

After hearing these arguments made over and over, I guess the question I would have to ask is, "How can a government persist in actions that are killing its own people?"

You can base my cynicism on watching the government's response in the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina: maybe its a cheaper way of controlling population than going to war. 

Watch the movie here. (The movie opens with some graphic footage of a twelve-year-old girl having liposuction. Have courage, and stick with the movie.)

After You...No, After YOU!

Harvey discovered these mushrooms growing in the wood chips along the side of our house. He brought them in after dark, and the hours since then have been spent trying to determine first, their identity, and second, their edibility. Of course, our efforts are limited to the one mushroom field guide that we own; therefore the mushrooms will have to conform to one of the types included in the book. So far, Harvey has come up with Flammulina velutipes, and he says they are edible. I say, "After you, my dear...."

Photos contributed by Harvey Broussard