Struan Farm

A New Garden

Yes, a new garden here at Struan Farm, but it's not what you think. I've been reading about and seeing pictures of some wonderful focaccia gardens during COVID lockdowns around the world. It's amazing how creative people can get when they are cooped up!

This weekend I finally had a chance to try my hand at it. It took me awhile to track down unbleached flour here in NZ, but I found a fantastic source online: The Source Bulk Foods. This company is a franchise that was started in Byron Bay, Australia, but has franchisees here in New Zealand. The company's focus is on zero waste, so everything is minimally packaged. I suspect you are meant to take your own containers to their brick and mortar locations. In any event, this is the only place I could find to buy unbleached flour. 

I used the focaccia recipe in "Bread Toast Crumbs." I'm also keen to try the basic peasant bread recipe in this same cookbook, which also calls for unbleached flour. At this rate I will turn into The Source Bulk Food's best unbleached flour customer.....

The dough is made with the flour, kosher salt, instant yeast and lukewarm water. After being mix it's left to rise for 1- 1 1/2 hours before being put onto an oiled tray.

While this was happening I played around with my decorations, cutting up yellow and red bell peppers, red onions, herbs, and spring onions and chopping some olives. I looked at photos of what other garden focaccia artists had created for inspiration, and to gauge what might work.

Here's the finished version:

Next time I'll add cherry tomatoes and purple potatoes, those are also meant to work well. It's a start on my focaccia garden journey.

On Debate around the Dinner Table

A few days ago during a drive I started to think about coming to terms with certain things as one ages. About how we are as people, both the good things and the bad; about what we do and have done well, and what we don't do or haven't done so well. About how and why we've become the people we are. It seems that one comes to accept, or be resigned to, oneself.

As the Black Lives Matter protests recently raged around the globe I remembered a speech that I gave at my graduation ceremony in June 1969 from Harding Twp. School in New Vernon, New Jersey, USA. It was entitled "Equal but Not Equal" and was about civil rights and the landmark Supreme Court decision ruling in the Brown vs. the Board of Education of Topeka (1954) case that segregated educational facilities were in violation of the US Constitution. It had been previously argued that if separate, segregated school facilities were comparable they were in fact acceptable and constitutional. This doctrine was called "Separate but Equal" and was deemed by the Supreme Court to be illegal. I've lost my copy of that speech, unfortunately, but I still have the programme, somewhat moth eaten, from that graduation ceremony. I also found the Citizenship Award/medal I received that night.

In 1968, in the aftermath of riots following the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. that April, President Johnson signed the Civil Rights Act 1968, outlawing discrimination in housing. That June, Bobby Kennedy, a candidate for US President, was assassinated in Los Angeles. If you haven't seen the Oliver Stone movie "Bobby" or read "Kennedy and King: The President, The Pastor and the Battle over Civil Rights" by Steven Levingston to learn and understand more about those turbulent times, I can recommend both to you.  I am now of the view that Bobby Kennedy would have been one of the great US presidents had he lived, far greater than his brother JFK. 

Thinking back through the lens of over forty years I'm struck by a few things. I went to a very small suburban primary school in what was at the time a very affluent white community. New Vernon was smaller than Piopio. In fact, there were no families of other races then that I recall. So my graduation speech, however passionate and sincere, must have seemed ironic or naive to some of the adults in the room, if entirely reflective of the time. I remember that it was well received, much to my relief, since I've never been a public speaker.  Following graduation I went on to attend a large regional high school that was quite diverse, and then a private women's college in New England, Smith, via scholarship and loans.

For whatever reason it seems I've always been and will always be a proponent of equal opportunity, justice and fairness for all.  A believer that anyone can do anything with a good education and a decent chance. Some of this stems from my own modest family background, which didn't include silver spoons, rather education, hard work and luck. Also equal opportunity laws that required employers to hire minorities, including women, at the time I graduated from college/university.  I doubt I would have ever had the 40 year career in banking I had without those laws (and quotas) coming into effect. They forced doors to open. Without them there was no incentive for employers to hire anyone but white men.

But that was then, this is now. It is obvious there are battles still to be waged for equality and fairness, with now several generations taking up this cause, both experienced, old campaigners and the young, hand in hand. We shall overcome.

What I'm still mulling over is how I came to be this way early on in life. There weren't many discussions about race at our house, although there were heated debates about politics over the dinner table. My mother was a Democrat and supporter of labour unions, while my father purported to be Republican. Let's just say he was aspirational and leave it at that, but I do remember some rather rowdy discussions. This was also during the Vietnam War.

Perhaps I am the product of robust debate around the dinner table in the 1960s and 1970s. Do you think this same kind of debate happens around dinner tables today? I hope it does, even if the meals are takeaways. 

 

 

Damson Jamming @StruanFarm

Now I'm onto the damsons, having worked my way through the stash of blackcurrants from this past summer's harvest here at Struan Farm. I've become a huge fan of damsons, having discovered them quite inadvertently when a local person dropped a box of them off at Piopio's Community Fruit & Veg Stand two years ago.

I'd heard of them but had never seen or cooked with them before. About that same time Lynda Hallinan of NZ Gardener magazine fame published her definitive book: "Damson: From hedgerow to harvest." The book provides a good amount of background on the history of the fruit, along with growing and using it.

This year I've decided it's pretty much blackcurrant and spiced damson jam for our farmstay guests. The blackcurrant is now made and stored in sealed jars in the pantry, so I'm onto the damson.

The damsons are put into a pot, covered with water and simmered until soft, anywhere from 30-45 minutes. Once they're cool they're drained and put through a food mill, which removes the stones and skins. The puree is then measured and put into the jam pan and gently reheated. At this time I add some fresh lemon juice and Syrian 7 Spice mix (or whichever spice mix you prefer). Once the puree is warm sugar is added and dissolved. Basically if the puree measures four cups I add the same amount of sugar, since damsons are tart. This is then cooked to set point, which I determine by putting a plate in the freezer and dribbling a stream of warm jam across it. If I am able to run my finger through the jam without it running, it's pretty much done. This is not an exact science, you need to figure out what works for you. 

This is batch #3:

Syrian 7 Spice damson jam is my absolute favourite. It can be used warmed as a sauce on ice cream, in baking, or on toast, scones, etc. Find room at your place for a damson tree! And I need to go find some more jars to keep the jam making exercise on track these rainy winter days.

Damsons, The Next Generation

I was very excited this past week when I went to check on the bags of damson stones in compost I'd stashed in the garage fridge this past autumn here at Struan Farm. They'd begun to sprout, hooray! 

Now I have several trays of damson seedling trees growing in our glasshouse being nurtured along. The two different types are from heritage trees still fruiting in the wider Piopio area, one from a settler orchard in nearby Mapiu, the other from Grandpa Anselmi's damson tree here in Piopio.

Grandpa was an Italian immigrant to New Zealand who made grappa from the fruit of his tree, a rather special historic tidbit in my view. While his descendants don't use them to make grappa, they do dabble making damson gin and vodka with the fruit, along with vinegar, glaze, jams (my absolute favourite jam on the planet), and paste. There was some thought that this tree might be on its last legs, it's leaning over in a paddock, so last year I grew a new one for the family from a stone. However the tree must have sensed it was being threatened, and this season burst into major growth and fruit. It's funny how trees can read the minds of those around them and react to that, isn't it?

Damsons are a type of prune plum, so can also be dehydrated to make prunes. If you'd like to learn more about them, order and read Lynda Hallinan's definitive book. It has heaps of recipes and is a great gift for anyone who either has a tree or might be interested in learning more.

I am excited to be able to grow these trees and pass them along to the next generation. Of course I'll plant one of each here at Struan Farm, somewhere.

Quietly, with Quince, Continued

It was another quiet day yesterday here at Struan Farm, as the quince crop landed in a big way, along with an announcement that several people and their whanau are in self-isolation in nearby Te Kuiti, with coronavirus test results pending.  There are Golden Queen peaches still, too. 

I decided to browse through a number of cookbooks from my pantry shelves. In an effort to evolve from my usual but limited repertoire given the quantity of quince this year. 

My experiments for the day were "Quince Butter" from Sophie Hansen's "A Basket by the Door," and "Poached Quince" from Tessa Kiros' book "Falling Cloudberries." The latter was bequeathed to me by my friend Glen when I last visited her, she had a bit of a book clean out with her recent move from Doone Cottage into town. I can tell she used this book quite a bit, it's been much loved!

It takes hours to work with quince, but they magically transform into melting, fragrant deliciousness when cooked.

For both recipes the fruit is peeled, cored and quartered. For the poached quince it's put into a boiling syrup of caster sugar, water, lemon juice and lemon peel for two hours, covered. The water is topped up as needed, since some syrup is required to serve (with ice cream or yogurt). For the quince butter sliced fruit is put into a deep roasting pan with the cores wrapped in muslin, and drizzled with a syrup of sugar, cinnamon, lemon juice and vanilla paste. The pan is then wrapped tightly with foil and left at 150C for 3-4 hours. After this the cooked fruit is processed when cool. The pureed fruit is then put back into the roasting pan to bake for one hour before then put into jars and sealed.

Yes, a five hour+ exercise. I started to worry that perhaps dinner last night might be a bit late!

 

Quietly, with Quince

I suspect I'm not the only one out there a bit overwhelmed by the progression of coronavirus, and the seemingly hourly updates of bad news from around the world. Yesterday I decided I needed to have a low key day here at Struan Farm to calm down, mostly.

I harvested more Golden Queen peaches and the first wave of quince, hooray. 

As previously reported, John is not a big fan of quince. But he will eat quince paste, or "membrillo," with cheese and crackers. Like most fruit pastes, making it is tedious but worth the effort. I use the quinces that have on the tree cracked first, so they won't rot. And I use Kylee Newton's recipe for membrillo from "The Modern Preserver."

1.5kg of quince is peeled, cored and roughly chopped, then put into a pot with the peel of one lemon and a split vanilla bean and covered with cold water. Once this is brought to the boil it is left to simmer for 30-40 minutes, until the quince is tender. After draining, the vanilla bean is removed and fruit and lemon peel pureed in a food processor. This pulp then gets measured, and 150 grams of sugar is added into a pot for every 250 mls. of fruit pulp, along with the juice of that lemon.

Then the real fun begins: once the sugar is dissolved into the pulp this boils until the mixture coats the back of a wooden spoon. The recipe says 1- 1 1/2 hours, but sometimes it takes considerably less time. It should be stirred constantly to avoid burning and sticking. The thick pulp has a tendency to erupt, spewing hot globules around the kitchen. I've bought a screen mesh splatter guard to try to minimise the mess and hot flying paste, you could use a tea towel in a pinch. It's best to be prepared.

Once the paste has reached the right consistency it is poured into a lined, buttered loaf pan or buttered muffin tins and baked for 40-60 minutes at the lowest oven temperature possible, then cooled, wrapped and refrigerated. It will keep for months in the fridge.

p.s. I did watch the Democratic presidential debate and follow up commentary while doing this!

 

Damsons, Doused & Soused

I've been gifted enough surplus damsons this year here at Struan Farm to play, hooray.

Enough are now squirrelled away in the freezer for winter Syrian 7 Spice damson jam making, my first batch of red wine damson vinegar is still percolating away in the panty, and I've had a positive test run dehydrating them to make prunes. I'm about to make a second batch of the vinegar and de-stone considerably more damsons to make a real batch of prunes shortly.

And then I thought: damson gin, why not give it a try?! Apparently this is the most popular thing done by people with damsons, although I clearly march to a different drummer. John enjoys an occasional G&T, and I would have one in the interest of research. Lynda Hallinan has an easy Damson Gin recipe in her wonderful book "Damsons: From Hedgerow to Harvest."

Washed and dried damsons are pricked and then packed into a one litre glass jar, into which 1/2 cup of sugar is poured. The jar is then topped up with gin, lidded, and shaken gently to help the sugar dissolve. It is then put away out of direct light for six months or longer. I've just made one jar to avoid depleting John's entire stash of gin (we're not big drinkers, obviously!). The boozy fruit can be used on ice cream once the gin is strained off.

This is clearly one of those stay tuned situations.

 

Dabbling with Damsons

I've been fortunate this season to have been invited to pick damsons from two different heritage damson trees in our wider area. It's been a good season, and people who have trees seem to have more than enough for their own use plus then some.

One of the trees is in an original settler orchard (now a farm paddock) in nearby Mapiu, the other is behind a farm homestead in Piopio. Fruit from this second tree was used by an Italian immigrant to New Zealand to make his grappa! It seems he also had a "still" back in the day.

I smile thinking about the history of these special fruit trees.

Not everyone knows what to do with damsons. They make incredibly delicious jam and fruit paste. Many people use them to flavour gin, but that wouldn't be me. I have put a stash in the freezer for winter Syrian Seven Spice Damson jam making sessions, but am also experimenting making a red wine damson vinegar. This inspiration came after sampling a friend's first batch. She'd made both red and white wine based versions following a recipe in Lynda Hallinan's wonderful book "Damsons From Hedgerow to Harvest." (We both preferred the red one, it was both sweet and tart if that can possibly be.)

The fruit is washed and chopped, then put into red wine vinegar for several days to macerate (one pint/two cups per pound of fruit). I didn't remove the stones, too time consuming. This is then strained through muslin/cheesecloth and boiled for ten minutes after adding sugar (with one pound of sugar per pint/two cups of juice). After cooling it is strained again and decanted into bottles.

I am at the second stage in this process right now:

The other wee experiment I've got going on at the moment involves making prunes from damsons, after reading recently from my friends at Country Trading that damsons are indeed a prune plum. Yes, this falls into the category of learning something new every day, doesn't it? I'd purchased a food dehydrator a few weeks ago in anticipation of this year's fig harvest. There are only so many figs one can bottle in spices and brandy, and I figured drying them with a dehydrator expands my options. If the test prunes taste good I may be making a larger batch of home-dried prunes as well.

I'm also saving stones from both trees to grow seedling trees to share with the community. This year I'm giving the one seedling tree I grew from "Grandpa's Grappa Tree" last season back to that family, while I managed to grow about six seedling trees from the Mapiu fruit. I'll plant one of those in our orchard and give the others away. Hopefully this year I'll manage to grow more of "Grandpa's Tree," for us and others. The stones are put into a plastic ziplock in the fridge with a few handfuls of compost to chill for 6-10 weeks, really until they start to split open and sprout. Then they're potted up to grow further.

It's special for me to have trees with an historical connection to the area growing here at Struan Farm and around the wider district, sharing them with people who appreciate that too.

You've now got a finger on the pulse! It's all happening here at Struan Farm.

In a Pickle with Chiles

This week I harvested two of the chile varieties we grew this season here at Struan Farm: serranos and jalapeños.  Serranos are good grilled, while jalapeños can be used fresh or pickled. The Asian "Wild Fire" chiles I cook with most often are still ripening to red, after which they'll be picked and frozen for later use. 

Since we use pickled jalapeños with fish tacos, I decided pickling was the way to go with our harvest from one plant. There's an easy recipe in The Modern Preserver, kiwi Kylee Newtown's recent book. Equal parts of apple cider vinegar and water are put in a pot with 1 1/2 tablespoons of sugar per 600 mls. of liquid and brought to a simmer, making sure the sugar is dissolved. In the meantime cumin seeds, bay leaf, salt and pepper are put into the bottom of a warm, sterile jar, on top of which are layered the sliced jalapeños. The hot pickling liquid is then poured into the jar before sealing.

The jar will keep for four weeks out of direct sunlight, it must be put into the fridge once open. I'd be tempted to grow more jalapeños if they'd keep longer pickled, but there are only so many one can eat in four weeks!

Savouring the Last of the Summer Strawberries

We are starting to get to the end of this year's strawberry season here in Piopio. You can sense it at Piopio Berry Orchard, that relief of being through the holiday peak is palpable. The summer recruits have gone back to school and it's family members and long time employees who remain for the home stretch.

Here at Struan Farm we're savouring every last one for as long as we can.

This past week for dessert with friends over I made David Lebovitz' "Strawberry Sour Cream Ice Cream" and "Strawberry Sorbet," both from his ice cream bible "The Perfect Scoop." And yes, I did strain the seeds for the sorbet once the strawberries were macerated in sugar and pureed. It makes a huge difference to the final product. 

This turned out to be a good pairing. The sorbet is intensely fruity, John finds it too much so on its own (predictably, I don't!). The sour cream in the ice cream cuts some of the sweetness, it works really well both as an ice cream on its own and a companion to the sorbet. There is also a version of this recipe made with peaches, which is excellent. (I'll be making that again once the Golden Queens land.)

Sprinkled with a few foraged blackberries for some pops of colour this was a great summer dessert on a hot night. I surprised even myself!

Dabbling with Damsons, Part 2

My damson experiences continue here at Struan Farm.

Over the weekend I managed to make the "Damson and Rosemary Cheese" from Kylee Newton's book "The Modern Preserver." (Unfortunately the recipe isn't online, so I can't share it with you.) It's a version of paste, so not anything for the faint-hearted. The fruit is covered with a bit of water and cooked until soft, then put through a sieve or food mill. The puree, sugar and lemon juice are then brought to the boil, and stirred continuously. For forty minutes. At one point I had to change arms it went on for that long!

But the result was worth it. The paste is poured into buttered cups or vintage moulds (I had one) and dry baked at the oven's lowest temperature until it has firmed to a slight "wobble." We all will remember wobbles from panna cotta, right?

They were easy to un-mould with a gentle touch, but once out the "cheese" pretty much adheres to whatever you set it on, so be prepared for that. It is quite good served with cheese and crackers, and will keep for up to six months in the fridge.

And good news: through the Piopio Community Fruit & Veg Stand I've been able to connect with a woman who is swamped with damsons! She offered me more fruit, so the damson adventures will continue. Especially since I've read they can be frozen for later use.

Playing with Damsons

Each morning I run into Piopio from Struan Farm to check the Piopio Community Fruit & Veg Stand. It's part of my job as the official stand manager. I usually take some surplus herbs, fruit or veg from the gardens to contribute since it's amazing how quickly things turn over in the stand. But at this time of the year there's heaps of fresh fruit and veg grown in local gardens and orchards on offer.

One day this week I found a box of what I thought were grapes, but was informed by sister-in-law Anna that they were, in fact, damson plums. Now I don't normally take much if anything from the Community Stand given how much we grow ourselves here at Struan Farm. Every so often a scallopini or a lemon, maybe. But I was sufficiently intrigued by the prospect of playing with damsons that I grabbed the box. There's an air of mystery surrounding damsons; they are coveted, have rather a cult following amongst foodies. I wanted to understand why.

Once home I did some research, and decided to try making damson curd and damson jam that first day. For the curd I used the recipe that's linked, but I added sprinkles of cinnamon, ginger and whole cloves (2) inspired by another recipe I came across. The damsons are softly cooked in a small amount of water then put through a sieve. I used my old fashioned food mill, which saved considerable time and effort. It's similar to what my mother used to make homemade apple sauce when I was growing up and a handy thing to have around.

The puree is then put into a glass bowl on the stove over a pot with gently boiling water (this is called a "bain marie," you could use a double boiler instead if you have one) with butter, the spices and caster sugar. Once the butter has melted beaten eggs are whisked into the mixture, which is then continuously stirred until thick. Like lemon or any other fruit curd the trick is to keep the heat low and consistent, and to keep stirring, so the eggs don't scramble. It took me about twenty minutes until the curd was thick enough to coat the back of the wooden spoon.

The hint of spice adds interesting flavour to the curd. The colour is a bit different from the vibrant puree, but it tastes good. It lasts for two weeks in sealed jars in the fridge. 

Then it was on to the "jam." I don't know if what I've made can technically be called jam, since I used the milled puree rather than whole fruit. Be that as it may, I weighed the puree and with 880 grams used an equivalent amount of sugar, rather standard fare in jam making. I added the same spice combination as above since it tasted so good. I may very well just call it "Spiced Damson Something" and leave it at that. I ended up with five jars.

Next comes "damson and rosemary cheese" from "The Modern Preserver," but that's for another day since it's time consuming a la fruit paste. Think I have just enough fruit left for that!

 

Fungi Find

John is always proud of himself when he discovers something "blog worthy" around Struan Farm, and this would be one of those things:

A rotting tree stump along the roadside Pet Paddock. Normally I classify tree stumps as blights on the landscape, and order their removal as soon as practically possible, but in this case I'll make an exception. Two different fungi, "turkey-tail porebracket," Tramete versicolor, and "orange porebracket," Pycnoporus coccineus. The ruffles are quite interesting, don't you think? The turkey tail looks almost like agate.

With thanks to Geoff Ridley's "Mushrooms and other fungi of New Zealand."

Brainy Once Again?

A few days ago I noticed some rather large fungi cropping up at the front entrance gate here at Struan Farm. I'm meant to be planting more tulips and daffodils in the roadside wooded garden here, also some purple crocus, and was contemplating the project. It's still a bit warm to plant the tulips, but the daffodils can go in any time.

A year or so ago we had a somewhat similar fungi pop up that grew to the size of a human head. I sent a photo to Geoff Ridley, author of the invaluable field guide "Mushrooms and Other Fungi of New Zealand." He was kind enough to identify it as a Skull Puffball, "calvatica caniformis."

I'm wondering if these are the same, and have emailed him again. One cluster looks slightly different from the other, perhaps it is older or something else entirely, but there aren't the same corrugated ridges as I noticed on the previous Skull Puffball. They may be forming on the one at the bottom.

I know, you'll be holding your breath until I get to the bottom of this fungi mystery, right? You're thinking I would probably do just about anything to avoid the ironing and the weeding, maybe even those daffodils too, and you may be right on that score. But guess what? Geoff got back to me shortly after I emailed him, and they all are skull puffballs. Mystery solved!

Peachy Keen Pruning

You may recall I am supposed to be weeding the gardens here at Struan Farm, and I am getting that done, I am. But it's been warm and sunny and it's also time to prune the peach trees, so I seized the moment, along with the loppers, secateurs and pruning paste. 

We have five peach trees in our house orchard area: one Golden Queen (five or so years old), one two year old Black Boy, two young "Mrs. Preston's" gifted to us as seedlings, and one I can't remember that has been moved around twice by John now and is doing its best to recover with my tender loving care. On the other side of the drive we have a second orchard area with our Luisa plum trees, two Karen Jones' Piopio seedling peach trees, and one "June's nectarine" from Northland. So eight peach/nectarine trees in total.  I spray them all with copper in autumn and spring and we're managing to keep leaf curl at bay, mostly.

Peaches are meant to be pruned heavily in a "vase" shape to keep light and air circulating through the tree to reduce disease and help the fruit ripen. I'm always a bit hesitant about over-pruning, although I've been advised while one might impact the next season's fruiting if one is overzealous, it's pretty hard to kill them. "The Art of Mindful Gardening" refers to the "Five D's:" Dead & Dying, Diseased & Deformed, and Direction. I'm not the best with the pruning saw, so try to do what I can with secateurs and loppers, bringing in John if more major surgery is required. At the moment that sort of exercise is usually restricted to the apples given the age of our trees, and done in winter. But I take the time to do the trees in increments, one step at a time. Yes, I'm mindful.

A few "before" and "after" shots. The changes are subtle, I agree. I don't get up there on a ladder and lop the tops off, which could be done.

 

 

Crumbling Down

In my quest to use our surplus apples AND feijoas here at Struan Farm I've recently tested out an "Apple and Feijoa Crumble" recipe. I'm happy to report this one is really, really good. So much so that I think I like it better than straight apple crumble, which is saying a bit coming from me.  I've been an apple crumble fan for years and years, it's one of my favourite desserts.

Let me say upfront that I've stuck with Annabel Langbein's crumble topping from the first "Free Range Cook." It's good, easy to make, and surplus can be frozen in a ziplock bag for later use.

For this recipe four apples are peeled and thickly sliced, put into a saucepan with water, lemon juice and a few tablespoons of raw sugar. This is then brought to the boil and simmered for a few minutes, after which two cups of feijoa pulp is added, stirred in, and cooked a further two minutes. This mixture is then put into a colander to drain while the topping and tin are prepared. When I made the first batch of this I used a potato masher to pulp the feijoas, but found it easier the second time to pop peeled feijoas into the food processor and give them a whizz. Prepared this way the feijoa gives a subtle flavour, isn't slimey or overpowering. I had enough extra fruit and topping to make two ramekins for us for dessert, the main crumble got labelled and put into the freezer.

This one's worth a try! 

In A Pickle

I'm contending with a bit of a surplus position of long red chiles from the veggie gardens here at Struan Farm, or "chillies" to spell things the kiwi way. I've been putting them in a ziplock bag in the freezer, but since that is now bulging with a stash that should cover my needs for the next year, creativity is required. 

A recent Donna Hay "Fresh & Light" magazine, issue #11, had a section with recipes for making pickled vegetables,  including carrots, cabbage, green tomatoes and chillies. Basically just the sort of produce we're all having surplus of in our veggie gardens at the moment. I decided to give the "pickled chillies" recipe a try.

The chillies are chopped/sliced and left to sit in a colander over a bowl after being sprinkled with sea salt flakes for a wee while.

Apple cider vinegar, water, and honey are stirred together in a large jug, the honey needs to dissolve.

After the chillies have had their stint in the colander (30 minutes), they are put into a sterilised jar with several peeled cloves of garlic and coriander seeds.

The liquid is then poured into the jar. Once sealed, it goes into the fridge, and can be used after two days. It will last up to one month refrigerated. 

This is a very easy recipe. I'm just not sure I can use this many pickled chiles/chillies in a month, but I'll give it a try!

Totara Trials

I'm thinking John and I have been doing a bit of walking around together lately here at Struan Farm contemplating projects, not that that's a bad thing. This time we were in the backyard near the veggie gardens, having a discussion about extending my tomato bed and building another framed fence for next season so I can rotate each year between the two. Yes, planning starts early here to get things in the work queue.

We ended up taking a major detour when I looked up into the totara trees at the edge of the bush after seeing movement, a bird, in the tree. I then noticed pale berries. Similar ones can be seen in the kahikateas at this time of year, but we have never seen them on totara before. This means they provide food for birds, and more importantly they have seeds from which we can (hopefully) grow trees!

What's interesting is that they're not on every tree, and not in large quantity, which made me wonder if there are male and female trees. Either way, additional homework was now required. We found and gathered 20 seeds, popping them into a seed tray in the glasshouse as an experiment.

 

I dug out "Totara: A Natural and Cultural History" by Philip Simpson. Yet another book I've given John! This is the definitive book on totara. Yes, there are male and female trees, and they have a two year pollination cycle. What isn't clear is if all females in a particular area fruit in the same year and then not the next, or if certain female trees fruit one year and others the next as an insurance policy against a bad season.

This has been an important discovery for Karen and John. We've got a small radiata pine plantation that is scheduled for harvesting in the next year or two, and are in the midst of deciding whether to replant just one type of native tree in this area or a mixture (1,000 trees or so). John is inclined toward totara because they grow quickly and are happy in the area. I'm not sure about a solid block of totara, would probably prefer a mix of some different native trees, but I am a bit more positive about totara now knowing they provide food for birds.  I also know it's probably easier to plant a stand of one or two types of trees. The replacement planting is not for harvesting, rather it will be a permanent native bush area on the property. I'm not looking forward to the harvesting and associated mess of the pines, need to look past that to our ultimate objective of getting the pines out and having more native bush. (Note: the radiata pine trees were planted by my father-in-law for eventual harvest and will fall down if they're not taken down. Plantation pines are (or were) a bit of thing here in NZ.)

To finish this chapter of the totara story, Clifford and I went out for a long walk that morning, seed gathering cup in hand. I found three more female trees, one an old grandmother with larger seeds and berries than the three others. I think she is rather special. I now have planted 84 totara seeds in trays in the glasshouse. Stay tuned!

 

Hasta La Vista Himalayan Honeysuckle

A few days ago John and I were down at the pond here at Struan Farm, discussing the design for new fencing around the back side to keep the stock out as well as additional native plantings. I have pledged to do the planting and to crack into weeding the surrounds as well, since we need to figure out where gaps are in the native trees and flaxes I planted over two years ago now. Some things have done well while others have been strangled out. It's past time for a clean up, it is major work to be done in instalments when time permits.

In the process of walking around I noticed this:

The plant was leaning out over the dam next to native "toetoe," the magenta colour of the flowers/berries caught my eye. This didn't look native, oh oh. In fact, it had the look of something invasive and bad.  We pulled off a sprig and returned to the house to do some research.

My weed "bible" remains Weedbusters New Zealand's "Weed Control Handbook." It is a great reference guide for anyone with bush and gardens. I bought it as a Christmas gift for John many years ago, but guess who uses it most? Me. There is basic information by category (garden, climbers and vines, shrubs and trees, and ground covers and fillers). They advise whether something is a noxious weed or simply invasive and worth getting out while you still can. There is information on how to control particular weeds, chemical and non. It is one of those really useful books I am not sure I could do without. Many of these plants are things gardeners planted years ago that have simply run rampant in the NZ climate and need to be eradicated.

It turns out this is "Himalayan Honeysuckle," (leycesteria formosa). It is spread by birds and water, is very invasive, and pushes out native species. And since it's flowering and fruiting right now we trundled back down to the pond with loppers and poison gel to see if we could remove it. Fortunately poison wasn't required, John was able to cut the branches then pull the plant out by the roots. His able assistant dragged the branches to the trailer and picked up the purple berries as they dropped off.  Don't want those purple berries travelling from the pond by stream down to the other ponds and the river or we'll have a much bigger problem.

Beautiful but very bad news. Bye, bye Himalayan Honeysuckle!

 

Granny McFlitter, The Champion Knitter

During my travels in the car today I listened to the Nine to Noon Show on Radio NZ ("RNZ"). One of the segments had a review of a new children's book called "Granny McFlitter, The Champion Knitter," by Heather Haylock and Lael Chisholm, as well as another new children's book called "The Yark." You can listen to it here.

It is a New Zealand book and incorporates into the story the sinking of a ship called "The Rena" off the Tauranga coast, a major environmental disaster. But (as you might expect) it was the knitting that drew me in. So yes, a bookstore was added to the errand list.

This is a very cute story, and a must read for any knitters and those who love them. Most knitters, like Granny McFlitter, just want to be needed!