We clung to the rickety wagon as Ed’s duct-taped gloves loosely clutched the steering wheel of an old, but still bright green tractor. Tony has probably done this a million times, but it was entirely new to me. The floorboards of the agrarian chariot were rotting and the metal carriage was loosely held together by ancient bolts – the flex would prove crucial on our return, wagon brimming with several thousand pounds of wood. Ed hopped off to fell an enormous oak, probably a good 80 plus footer. We went on to collect from a different section of woods before heading back.

There was a slight gap in the forest where the tree had been, as well as the other trees it leveled with it. It was all planned of course – Ed is a master. He knows the trees like an addict knows veins. The man is over six-foot-six and weighs a good 240 pounds. He is lean but colossal and muscular, as is Tony. Standing beside them, my six-foot-two frame seems diminutive in comparison. They toss logs like toothpicks.

So we loaded wood. Not 5, or 10 logs. Seventy is a low estimate. Five feet in length, 3 to 8 inches in diameter, we stacked them into the wagon steadily over the course of an hour and a half, whilst making a separate pile for firewood and branches that will quickly be consumed, back into the rich forest floor from which they came.

When we returned, we clung to the outside of the wagon, gas can clacking against the rails. A chain connecting the two side walls kept them from breaking from the immense weight of wood. The wheels bulged, almost flat, and the back end dragged through the deep snow troughs along the tractor path.

It was fun. Hard work, but fun – and a great way to stay warm and fit. The mushrooms will be included in the CSA baskets for the season, and sold to restaurants and farmers markets. I can’t wait.

1. spinach
2. collards
3. mustards
4. brazing mix
5. broccoli
6. brussels sprouts
7. cabbage
8. cauliflower
9. carrots
10. peas
11. radishes
12. beets
13. swiss chard (two kinds)
14. turnips
15. celeriac
16. bush beans
17. cucumbers (two kinds)
18. squash
19. zucchini
20. potatoes
21. leeks
22. onions
23. tomatoes (several varieties)
24. peppers (several varieties)
25. eggplant
26. tomatillo
27. cilantro
28. thyme
29. oregano
30. basil
31. kale
32. zinias
33. sunflowers
34. lillies
35. other flowers

We’re hoping to have a few neighborhood BBQs featuring food from the garden – but that probably won’t be until closer to August or September. I hope to have pictures up soon!

Its just past 3:30 in the morning and though tired, I don’t really feel it. So, I went for a super-mini bike ride up the street to check on the pears I mentioned awhile back. Unlike last time, I spotted a cluster instantly. They’re not full size yet, nor should they be. Afterall, its barely September. Anyhow, here’s a photo:

I found a long stick near the tree and used it to knock a few morsels off their boughs. Weirdly, all of them had a really soft side. At first I thought it was due to them hitting the road, or from the impact of the stick. But I probed further and found this:

Looks like either:

a) general underdevelopment (though not likely)
b) some sort of insect infestation (though the darker bits didn’t seem like insect eggs…but I’m no entomologist)
c) aliens (yes, Dr. Who’s fault)

Anybody have any ideas?

I did manage to get one which had a significantly smaller patch and only nibbled one side (seen in first photograph). It was a bit tart and much harder than a ripe pear, but the sweetness had definitely started to develop and the skin was nice and crisp.

This led me to a pretty decent idea: I’m going to build a tree-fruit harvester out of recycled goods. I’ll post the process on here in the weeks to come, along with photos of the tree, its yield, the surroundings, and related recipes. Keep your eyes open and your mouths closed–chewing delicious food, of course!

That said, I’ve spent the past nine or so months bouncing an urban gleaning project around in my wrinkle-patch. The main focus is communal fruit-tree harvesting. I’ve developed a logo and a loose plan but I need to rally a group of people to help. By getting people involved in community projects in a gradual way – especially people from different backgrounds – we can help those in need and build meaningful relationships that encourage learning and growth in our city.

Ideally, property owners whose land yields fruit (apples, pears, etc.) will be contacted or will contact the group to harvest their fruit. A portion can be kept by the owners and/or volunteers, or entirely donated to food banks in the area. Volunteers will ideally ride bikes, or will use minimal non-renewable resources to transport and harvest the fruit. There’s currently no timeline as to when this will happen – probably not this year – but it could be possible if enough people back it up.

I’m writing about this because I rode by a nearby pear-tree whose boughs are starting to produce teensy-beensy fruit-lumps. It was dark, as this happened only a few minutes ago, but I managed to steal one of the little-ones from its mother. Here’s a photo:

I’m also posting because I need help from you, Milwaukee! If you’re interested in participating, have ideas to discuss, or simply think I’m a total ass for doing this, don’t hesitate to post a comment. I would love to hear your opinions.

Though I only published it yesterday, I’ve been planning for planting since January. I don’t have much, so I’m starting small. I decided to reuse materials for potting containers: large cans, thoroughly washed and cut plastic containers (think laundry detergent jugs, juice bottles, etc.). I live 5 minutes from Lake Michigan, where I will collect stones and pebbles for drainage. I’ll buy the soil as well as some larger containers which I will use to grow root vegetables, including potatoes and onions.

So far I have seeds and/or starters for:

1. Anise – Pimpinella anisum
2. Arugula/Roquette – Eruca sativa
3. Organic Basil, Greek Mini Yevani – Ocimum basilicum minimum
4. Chamomile, German – Matricaria recutita
5. Organic Dill Bouquet – Anethum graveolens
6. Fennel, Florence, Finocchio – Foenicucum vulgare var. azoricum
7. Organic Garlic
8. Oregano, True Greek – Origanum heracleoticum
9. Parsley, Italian Dark Green Flat – Petroselinum crispum var. neapolitanum
10. Organic Potatoes
11. Rosemary – Rosmarinus officinalis
12. Sage, Garden Broadleaf – Salvia officinalis
13. Thyme, Common English – Thymus vulgaris

I also hope to grow the following:

1. cardamom
2. carrots
3. cayenne
4. chervil
5. chicory
6. chives
7. costmary
8. hops
9. lavender
10. leeks
11. marjoram
12. mint
13. onions
14. rhubarb
15. shallots
16. tomatoes

Some of these I’m not so worried about. Chives and mint, for example, are super aggressive and easy to grow. Others, like cardamom and marjoram need more care. The hops, costmary, and rhubarb I’d like to grow near the lake. There is a steep slope that leads to the beach and it is somewhat inaccessible to people. My friend Dan brews beer so I figure local hops would be interesting to use. Alecost is now known as costmary, but its old name reveals that it too was once used for brewing, imparting a spicy mint flavor to some lucky elixir. It can also be used for cooking or in a hot bath. We’ll see how that goes.

I’ll be planting my seeds in a few days. There are still about 6-7 weeks before last frost. I’m also going to start a worm compost bin. But that’s an entirely different post.

resources:

1. The Successful Herb Gardener.
2. Gardening in Wisconsin: Last Spring Frosts
3. Jamie Oliver on growing potatoes
4. Start Seeds For a Garden
5. Urban Agriculture Notes

I think the best way to learn is to do. I could work in a restaurant – earn money and learn at the same time. The hands on experience would be invaluable. Can you really know how to bone a chicken if you’ve only watched someone else do it – without running your blade through a bird yourself? This would be a huge change and a tremendous risk, one that could completely devastate my life if things go sour.

On top of that, I’m getting old. Okay, so 24 isn’t that old – but most cooks start between sixteen and twenty. In chef terms, I’m a fossil. So what’s an old bone like me to do?

If there were no risk, I’d drop everything and start learning the industry. There is risk though, and I’m extremely close to my degree. Throwing that away would be a complete waste. I’d have nothing to fall back on.

I have also been feeling disconnected with the food I eat. For awhile, food was fuel, calories, energy. And that’s all. I eat as healthily as I can, avoid processed foods, corn syrup, Hellman’s mayonnaise, frozen chicken breast, even butchered chicken breasts. I do everything myself, from scratch, as much as possible. I make my own bread and my own pasta. I’m buying more and more organic foods, especially produce, fish and poultry. But I feel an irresponsibility, and a lacking.

Luckily, I’ve figured out what it is. And I’ve got a plan.

This summer, I am going to grow my own vegetables and herbs. I figure it will do several things for me. First off, it might save me some cash and certainly some shopping time. I’ve yet to figure out the numbers – but I suspect the cost of pots, soil, water, sun, seeds and love will be far exceeded by the costs of my groceries. Secondly, they’ll be like a pet. I’ll have something to take care of, maintain, and nurture. Third, though I’m doing it for my sustenance, it should do wonders for my pride. Finally, it will connect me directly to what I put into my body – and fill the void that’s been growing for some time. I will learn about food and flavor, how to use new ingredients, how to simplify things. And hopefully, just maybe, I will learn a lot about the extent of my capabilities, not only as one who makes food but as a human being.