choufleur violet

Let's ferment

I know I've posted about this before. I have vague memories of a batch of kimchi that I made in my dorm room last year that made the whole floor smell like something diabolical. It smelled great to me, but I've been known to sigh dreamily in the cheese cave where others would probably gag or at least hold their nose (although, kudos to the food bloggers who came out--they seemed to love the smell too). I also don't mind smelly hippies, but that's another post altogether.

My point is, it occurred to me today that I've been doing a lot of fermenting lately. My housemate and I have been blasting through some homemade raw goat's milk kefir, I've made a couple quarts of sauerkraut, a gallon of mead, and I'm baking bread again--sourdough and simple yeast bread. Not to mention the cheese I make every day at the farm--that's fermentation on an entirely different scale. I suppose not everyone enjoys fermented foods, and I have to say that I pity them in a way. For me, few things are as pleasant as that sour, tangy flavor from some fresh chevre or a freshly made sourdough loaf.

And then that brings me to another point. Digestion. No one wants to hear me talk about that sort of thing, but I'm going to put myself out there. It's good for your belly. Anyone with a sensitive stomach or dietary issues can relate when I say that an upset stomach--even a slightly upset one--is terribly unpleasant. For me, the solution is ferments. I notice that I digest kefir and yogurt a lot easier than plain milk. There's something about those good bacteria and yeasts that colonize, breaking down the sugars--lactose and maltose--into acids--acetic and lactic--that really aids digestion.

My favorite fermentation resource is Wild Fermentation by Sandor Ellix Katz. This guy is a fermentation rogue. He mostly uses wild yeasts and bacteria to ferment, and he applies a sort of easygoing style to this ancient food preservation technique that's refreshing to anyone who's trolled the internet and gigantic cookbooks for hours trying to figure out how to make sauerkraut (Katz's method is something like this: 1.) chop cabbage 2.) add salt and mix 3.) wait). This books talks about everything from the most basic ferments to making tempeh and miso.

In opposition to Katz's freestyle fermentation is Rose Levy Beranbaum's The Bread Bible. Obviously, you're not going to find anything about kimchi in here, but the chapter on sourdough is phenomenal and detailed. I'll admit, I've been a little more daring with my sourdough starter than Beranbaum suggests, but her work is a fantastic resource and answers a lot of questions for the new or new-to-sourdough baker.

The most rewarding thing about fermenting? Well, apart from the obvious--you get to eat the results--there's the magic of it. You feel like a wizard when you check on your mead and realize that it's getting fizzy, or when you see your sourdough starter bubbling up. Fermentation is the art of living foods, after all.

"The reason that man's improved techniques seem to be necessary is that the natural balance has been so badly upset beforehand by those same techniques that the land has become dependent on them.
This line of reasoning not only applies to agriculture, but to other aspects of human society as well. Doctors and medecine become necessary when people create a sickly environment. Formal schooling has no intrinsic value, but becomes necessary when humanity creates a condition in which one must become 'educated' to get along."
-Masanobu Fukuoka

Mighty fine fiddlin'

Farm tour

The farm tour weekend is always an exhasuting one. You wake up feeling groggy, skip lunch in favor of half a bagel or some noxious energy bar, and finish milking with your last, sinking puddle of energy. Then you do it all over on Sunday. But there's some masochistic part of me that loves farm tour. Of course, there's the interaction with lots of people that we don't get too often out here in the sticks. But the best part is that the farm tour is an opportunity for the greater community to see you on your home turf instead of sweating in a parking lot somewhere trying desperately to keep the cheese samples from melting.

They see you at work, doing your thing. They see the goats munching on grass and grain, doing what goats do. They see the cheese in the cave and get some idea of what goes into the making of it. It's just a better representation of the process and the love of the process than answering questions in an off-farm setting. You can really explain what 300 gallons looks like with a 300-gallon vat in front of you.

This is me making ricotta--a cheesemaking demo. This was our way of sending a little practical knowledge home with everyone. Ultimately, one of the goals of the local food enthusiast is to build community food systems. This involves everything from preparation skills to trade and barter systems. I know a lot of people who are convinced that local food systems will come to be the only food systems. I, in spite of my skepticism, have come to be one of these people. Thus, the importance of teaching, not only practical how-to things, but also inspiring passion and respect for what goes into a plate of food when the ingredients list does not include high fructose corn syrup or hydrolized soy protein.

You may recall last week's post on the "gouda" type cheese we make. Well, these wheels here are the result of that hard work. We've salted them for two days now (the bigger wheels, not pictured, will require two more days of salting), and the wait begins! Today we made an epic batch of tomme in which the milk almost completely filled the vat. More on that later.

Working (and dancing) it off

I had a great time in France. A lot of that was due to amazing food, namely things with butter in them or simply the butter itself slathered (doesn't that word just imply "liberally"?) on some of that crazy good French bread. Butter is wonderful, and I will never advocate the use of margarine instead of butter. The only problem with butter is that...well...it sticks to the hips. I came back from France with hips. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, but I've decided that a few pounds lighter will be good for me (and my jeans that are on the verge of not fitting). But here's the great part--my job does it for me. I eat butter and cheese and whole milk and pretty much whatever I want (I am on a no sugar kick, but that actually isn't as hard as I had imagined it would be), but working is really giving me a workout. Then there's contra dancing. All that hootin' and hollerin' and stompin' and swingin' does a body good. It's nice to be back and kicking.

In other news, we had a gaggle of food bloggers come to the farm this week geared up with their cameras and tastebuds. It's always exciting to get some attention for something you've made with your own two hands. The oohs and aahs over the cheese were especially appreciated. We always enjoy entertaining interested individuals. The bloggers concerned were Marie from Tartelette, Todd and Diane from White on Rice Couple, Jaden from Steamy Kitchen, Brian from The Food Geek, Tammy from Running With Tweezers, and Alison from The Humble Gourmand. We're very anxious to see what they say about us, but judging from all the drooling it should be largely positive.

Continuing in this vein of liveliness on the farm, this weekend is the notorious farm tour. Last year we sold out of everything and were without bloomy cheeses for a few weeks afterward. This year we're expecting even larger crowds and have prepared accordingly (a.k.a. I spent the past 12 hours in the cheese kitchen and am ready to pass out). There are a lot of new things on the farm to be excited about. Namely, the cave, but also the new deck area that makes getting to the market room less treacherous. But you don't want to hear all this rambling. Hopefully, I'll have some photos of day 1 of the farm tour by late tomorrow night. Wish us luck!

Overwhelmed

This is the view from my trailer. As I've said, the place itself is nothing to brag about. It works, but only if you're willing to put aesthetics aside. The view, however... this view is what I wake up and fall alseep to. It's beyond sublime.

There are a lot of reasons why I love living here. The mountains are a big one. I drive down the highway and get the proverbial lump in my throat, mostly because I can't believe I'm lucky enough to live somewhere this beautiful. I also love the goats and the cheese, of course, but there's something else about this place that makes me blissfully happy even when I work 12 hour days and fall into bed like a zombie.

When I drove back up the mountain after five months of flat land (granted, it was in France, so that took the edge off my home sickness), I became a new human being. I hate to sound absurd. I've spent most of my life trying to get people to take me seriously. But when I came back to these hills I felt myself breathing, I heard my heartbeat, I felt everything more deeply, saw colors brighten. There's really no other way to describe it.

I've been back at work for a week. I was afraid that after being away I would have a hard time adjusting to this life again. I couldn't have been more mistaken. Life has never been more beautiful. How do you know when you find the right place, the right lifestyle? How do you not?