Just yesterday I remembered an item on my wish list from earlier in the spring, a wish that developed out of a rather topsy-turvey school year (during which I went somewhat crazy). I almost desperately wanted to get away on a sort of retreat, to somewhere like a monestary, for a time of prayer and a break from the complete bedlam that had been my life for several months. With the end of school I felt some stress-relief, however, and funds not permitting, I quite contentedly decided that this summer wouldn't be the time for that kind of thing. The summer has been peaceful enough, and I don't feel nearly as hectic (although their are some crazy quirks left over from the school year snappage). What I realized yesterday, after being largely solitary for nearly two weeks, was that I have had my retreat after all. Not in the way I expected--I didn't leave home or withdraw from other people--but the aspect of solitude has been present. And how timely, too, as I get ready to move back to Eugene for another year of school. Timely...and not my time or planning, but God's. Glory to Him, for an entire three months of peace and rest and for satisfying my needs and desires but not always in the way I expect--reminding me how good He is and that it is good to cling to Him. Now, may I be grateful.
And now is probably the time to put my sister's clothes back in her room.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Saturday, September 12, 2009
In which Ashli has the house to herself, Part 3: Jamming
Yesterday I was able to fulfill a good bit of my canning endeavors. If I do not live to can another item (which may be likely, since today's main project is cleaning out our home's own private Pit of Despair--the garage--from whence I may not rise the victor), I shall be pleased with yesterday's accomplishments. But that's enough drama. On to the real business.
I'm wary of canning as a method of food preservation generally, because I'm not convinced that cooking a fruit or vegetable to death, dousing it in sugar-syrup, then sealing it in limbo so it can hang out in your cupboard for months is the best way to reap the nutritional benefits of summer during the winter (okay, not done with the drama). I've found other methods for making things like pickles that so far have been successful...and quite tasty. Apparently, the traditional pickle, whether cucumber or other veggie, was made by letting the chosen vegetable sit in a saltwater solution at room temperature for a number of days. It sounds scary, but what occurs is a fermentation process. It allows the development of enzymes and friendly bacteria which enhance the nutrients of raw vegetables. And the taste? Well, they taste like...pickles. So I can have my pickles and eat them, with the benefits of their being a raw food. Sweet!
But I love jam. I continue to opt for the cooked-n-canned version (tried the fermented version, didn't like fizzy jam), but there are still alternatives that aren't so sugary. So, armed with honey and Pomona's Universal Pectin, I think I've found a happy medium with happy results...
The Asian Pears: Last weekend my dad and I picked several pounds of this fruit from my grandpa's trees. Unfortunately, I was adversely impacted by finding so many wormy ones, and just felt too grossed out to eat them plain. So...nobody else is here to eat them...aha! Convert the good bits into a nice batch of Pear Sauce (like applesauce, just not apple). This worked okay, but it was too runny and wouldn't cook down, so I just decided to see if the remainders of the pearsauce would make jam. I actually managed to cook it down further (it's probably cooked beyond having any nutritional value left), and with a little extra honey and some pumpkin pie spice, it turned out delicious! At least, the remnant that ended up just in the fridge and not in a jar is. It appears that, like canned tomatoes, when canning asian pears one has to take precautions against botulism. So maybe we're not okay. But then, I feel like these darn pears were a gamble from the beginning.
The Plums: I think this variety is what they call an 'Italian Prune'. I picked them off a random tree in my neighborhood that doesn't appear to belong to anyone. Tasty and beautiful, they turned into beautiful preserves, all peachy-colored with purple spots from the peel. Never made plum jam before, but the name sounds so wonderful I had to try it out! And with free fruit, why not?
The Blackberries: Good ol' blackberry jam. Tangles of brambles near my house yielded lots of nice berries this season, although I started jamming a bit late and had to scrounge a little to make the jam. This canning experience was remarkable because I was able to pick each fruit, and not necessarily with the aim of making jam. It was available, so I took some (why waste it?), and now each jar of jam that resulted has little memories and experiences preserved in it. I bet they're nice on toast.
I'm wary of canning as a method of food preservation generally, because I'm not convinced that cooking a fruit or vegetable to death, dousing it in sugar-syrup, then sealing it in limbo so it can hang out in your cupboard for months is the best way to reap the nutritional benefits of summer during the winter (okay, not done with the drama). I've found other methods for making things like pickles that so far have been successful...and quite tasty. Apparently, the traditional pickle, whether cucumber or other veggie, was made by letting the chosen vegetable sit in a saltwater solution at room temperature for a number of days. It sounds scary, but what occurs is a fermentation process. It allows the development of enzymes and friendly bacteria which enhance the nutrients of raw vegetables. And the taste? Well, they taste like...pickles. So I can have my pickles and eat them, with the benefits of their being a raw food. Sweet!
But I love jam. I continue to opt for the cooked-n-canned version (tried the fermented version, didn't like fizzy jam), but there are still alternatives that aren't so sugary. So, armed with honey and Pomona's Universal Pectin, I think I've found a happy medium with happy results...
The Asian Pears: Last weekend my dad and I picked several pounds of this fruit from my grandpa's trees. Unfortunately, I was adversely impacted by finding so many wormy ones, and just felt too grossed out to eat them plain. So...nobody else is here to eat them...aha! Convert the good bits into a nice batch of Pear Sauce (like applesauce, just not apple). This worked okay, but it was too runny and wouldn't cook down, so I just decided to see if the remainders of the pearsauce would make jam. I actually managed to cook it down further (it's probably cooked beyond having any nutritional value left), and with a little extra honey and some pumpkin pie spice, it turned out delicious! At least, the remnant that ended up just in the fridge and not in a jar is. It appears that, like canned tomatoes, when canning asian pears one has to take precautions against botulism. So maybe we're not okay. But then, I feel like these darn pears were a gamble from the beginning.
The Plums: I think this variety is what they call an 'Italian Prune'. I picked them off a random tree in my neighborhood that doesn't appear to belong to anyone. Tasty and beautiful, they turned into beautiful preserves, all peachy-colored with purple spots from the peel. Never made plum jam before, but the name sounds so wonderful I had to try it out! And with free fruit, why not?
The Blackberries: Good ol' blackberry jam. Tangles of brambles near my house yielded lots of nice berries this season, although I started jamming a bit late and had to scrounge a little to make the jam. This canning experience was remarkable because I was able to pick each fruit, and not necessarily with the aim of making jam. It was available, so I took some (why waste it?), and now each jar of jam that resulted has little memories and experiences preserved in it. I bet they're nice on toast.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
In which Ashli has the house to herself, Part 2: Not so alone
The tea kettle is again on it's way to whistling, as we open the second installment of Ashli Alone in the House. Which, really, has not been so 'lonely' as I expected. Today and Monday have been my only two alone-days, reminding me of just how gracious God is to give me the friends and family that I have. I've had the opportunity to spend a weekend with my dad, which doesn't happen much these days (in my dusty attic-room, no less, which made me feel rather like Polly in The Magician's Nephew, a feeling I indulged as much a possible). I've also celebrated a long-awaited wedding, had tea with my housemates (who were in Portland for the wedding), spent nice time with my step-dad, and enjoyed the company of three good friends. I don't mind that this takes away from the me-plans that I have, because aside from being reminded that my friends rock, I am given another opportunity to remember that tend to go a bit bats when too often alone with myself. I get myself stuck inside my head. Time alone is a necessity for me, but not too much, and God knows this. Which brings yet another reminder: I guess I'm technically never alone. I'm glad sometimes (okay, frequently) to be without people, but I'm never without God. I think that's why I'm so comfortable with solitude, because it's not just me that I'm hanging out with. And with or without people, I'm learning what it means for God to satisfy us with good things.
A quote from C. S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy comes to mind. Of his childhood travels to and from school with his brother, Lewis says, "The homeward journey was even more festal. It had an invariable routine: first the supper at a restaurant--it was merely poached eggs and tea but to us the tables of the gods..." Yesterday Rebekah and I discovered the same thing about cinnamon-raisin bread with raspberry jam. A feast. Perfectly satisfying. It is amazing how good, and satisfying, good things are.
A quote from C. S. Lewis' Surprised by Joy comes to mind. Of his childhood travels to and from school with his brother, Lewis says, "The homeward journey was even more festal. It had an invariable routine: first the supper at a restaurant--it was merely poached eggs and tea but to us the tables of the gods..." Yesterday Rebekah and I discovered the same thing about cinnamon-raisin bread with raspberry jam. A feast. Perfectly satisfying. It is amazing how good, and satisfying, good things are.
Friday, September 4, 2009
In which Ashli has the house to herself: Part 1
With Megan in Utah since last week and mum newly landed in Moscow, the tea is brewing and I am ready to begin the saga of...me, in the house by myself (well, largely by myself. Stepfather will be home most evenings). Megan, if you read this, I have a confession...I've been wearing your black leggings and have used the Jenny-cup twice without asking. Such is my unruliness when you are not around to keep tabs on me.
And what shall one do with one's stolen time? Hmmm...
Around this time of year I get the inclination to make jam. I think I've contracted a sort of harvest-bug, because this inclination has expanded to include other types of preservation, like pickles and such what-nots. Kind of a 'let's-prepare-for-winter' spirit. Recently I finished reading a book called Plenty (by Alisa Smith and J. B. MacKinnon), which describes the authors' year-long experiment in eating only foods produced locally, within one hundred miles of their British Columbia home. To do so, they actually had to pay attention to the seasonality of certain vegetables (sorry, no salad in winter!) and the fact that many produce items don't actually grow in the Pacific Northwest (tragically, bananas, and things like olive oil and cane sugar). So naturally, when one is living off the local land, one must take advantage of what's available. In part, I suppose this is where food preservation comes into business. As the experiment in the book showed me, there is plenty of food right at our fingertips, and much of it can be frozen or canned. I find it fascinating! Really, it's the coolest thing ever.
Although, in recent years more traditional ways of life have become increasingly appealing to me. I think a lot of it has to do with understanding the natural ryhthms and cycles of life, things which God intended to be natural to us. Things which we have lost contact with, and therefore make our lives feel disconnected and unbalanced. It's something to think about, at least.
And every September, I get the urge to turn sweet Oregon summer fruits into jams. Not that I'm saying it should be everybody's business to do the same, that you should reestablish your ties with the earth and be all natural. No. And whether or not someone has the same inclinations, he or she is always welcome to something from my kitchen!
And what shall one do with one's stolen time? Hmmm...
Around this time of year I get the inclination to make jam. I think I've contracted a sort of harvest-bug, because this inclination has expanded to include other types of preservation, like pickles and such what-nots. Kind of a 'let's-prepare-for-winter' spirit. Recently I finished reading a book called Plenty (by Alisa Smith and J. B. MacKinnon), which describes the authors' year-long experiment in eating only foods produced locally, within one hundred miles of their British Columbia home. To do so, they actually had to pay attention to the seasonality of certain vegetables (sorry, no salad in winter!) and the fact that many produce items don't actually grow in the Pacific Northwest (tragically, bananas, and things like olive oil and cane sugar). So naturally, when one is living off the local land, one must take advantage of what's available. In part, I suppose this is where food preservation comes into business. As the experiment in the book showed me, there is plenty of food right at our fingertips, and much of it can be frozen or canned. I find it fascinating! Really, it's the coolest thing ever.
Although, in recent years more traditional ways of life have become increasingly appealing to me. I think a lot of it has to do with understanding the natural ryhthms and cycles of life, things which God intended to be natural to us. Things which we have lost contact with, and therefore make our lives feel disconnected and unbalanced. It's something to think about, at least.
And every September, I get the urge to turn sweet Oregon summer fruits into jams. Not that I'm saying it should be everybody's business to do the same, that you should reestablish your ties with the earth and be all natural. No. And whether or not someone has the same inclinations, he or she is always welcome to something from my kitchen!
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