Every day I check my strawberries. So far, they’re all still there. Small green berries. It’s amazing to watch. Today, my dog and I were patrolling for the once-pregnant rabbit when I spied a single red strawberry. With the mosquitoes landing fiercely, I climbed over the fence and picked this juicy berry off. As I recall, a year ago I actually got three berries and then something ate all the rest. This year, we’re patrolling. We’ll see how successful this is.

It’s a low calorie, local, and emotionally gratifying snack. Popcorn straight from Donna’s At the Farm in Waconia.

One ear of corn makes enough for two people, or one who is eating compulsively. Don’t add butter, if you can avoid it. But add some salt.

It’s just plain good. Local and good.

But also, more importantly, my strawberry patch is in full bloom and the plants are standing up strong and healthy. The chives have stood their ground and are even taller. And the salad table is showing signs of life as well.

It is with some dismay that I have finally come to terms that my local eating style is to find local farmers, rather than to successfully grow my food in the back yard. There will be some lettuce. And there should be strawberries, if I figure out who eats them and how to keep that from happening. But for me, eating local is clearly not as simple as having a garden.

So what is my problem growing stuff, I wonder. Is it a lack of time and attention to my garden? Nope. Lack of water? Nope. Lack of energy or will? Nope. Is it poor soil? Maybe. Is it the competition with critters? Indeed that has been a major issue for me. Rabbits, crows, and unknowns. But how do 200 strawberries disappear overnight? Who ate the tomato plants down to the roots?

I am letting the strawberries proliferate outside the fenced in garden this year. Let them take over the lawn. I’m not into lawns anyway. Let me see if I can provide them with enough nourishment outside the garden. There’s got to be a way to grow enough strawberries that I can share.

Spring has returned with all my standard spring time wishes. A garden full of berries and a pocketful of chives…

This early spring has brought early blossoms to my strawberry plants! It’s April 19 and they’re beginning to blossom. I haven’t even cleared out some of the leaves from the garden yet. This also forces me to ponder the question I ended the summer with: how do I keep critters from eating the strawberries. Last June I had about 300 berries on the plants and ate about 3. The garden is fenced. Yet rabbits have their babies in the garden. The garden was covered as well. So it must have been the rabbits.

This year I have a paucity of rabbits, likely because of the lone coyote wandering the neighborhood. So perhaps I will have some luck this year. Who likes strawberries? Do crows like them.

It’s occurred to me that perhaps I ought to set out California berries for the rabbits…place the berries around the fencing to encourage the critters to stay outside. Seems ridiculous (and as if I’m inviting problems), but so does not getting any to eat.

Before we opened the doors at 1 p.m., folks were slipping into the gym — the gym where now farmers, authors, growers and more sat at gingham covered tables, where jams, and breads, and other tasty morsels waited. Hundreds of people came to the Fair!

Eden Prairie was interested in the issues around eating local! And they came to find out more.

Thank you all.

For those who have followed this blog, you might recognize the salad table built last year with some effort. The concept is simple: build a movable table to grow lettuce in that the animals won’t be able to reach. Simple materials, a few tools, and don’t forget to build it small enough to get out your door, if you build it inside (as I did). The suggested “medium” was an organic kind of compost. No soil. The table was lightweight when filled with this compost. I did have some problems, particularly with keeping it moist enough.

This year, I am going with a more standard dirt. Top soil and cow manure. I spoke to Jay at Lotus Lawn and Garden and repeated a few times, “You grow lettuce in cow poop?” He was gracious and ignored my language, which perhaps was in reality a bit cruder than what I’ve quoted. He said it was composted and it was fine. Then I headed out to Donna At the Farm to buy some new seeds. I repeated my question about the cow manure. She said that the lettuce would taste delicious, totally different from what I grew last year. Our food is partly influenced by the soil it grows in. And this should make me happier to eat lettuce grown with cow manure???

Nevertheless, I’ve got three kinds of lettuce planted. April 11! I’ve got black seeded Simpson, Red Leaf and Bibb lettuce. We’ll see what happens this year.

Eat Local Eden Prairie Fair
On April 18th, we will be holding a fair at the Eden Prairie Community Center from 1-4 p.m. This event will be free to the public! We will be inviting local farmers, organizations promoting sustainable agriculture, restaurants featuring local food, and organizations that educate the public on how to find local food and why it’s an important facet of our economy and community.

Animal, Vegetable, Dairy Panel Discussion
Held at St. Andrew Lutheran Church on Monday, April 19th, with book discussions at 6:30 and panel discussion beginning at 7:30 p.m. The panel discussion features Catherine Friend, author of The Compassionate Carnivore speaking on local animal farming, Carrie Marshall from Eden Prairie’s own Marshall’s Farm speaking on vegetable farming issues, and the Minars, owners of Cedar Summit Dairy, speaking on dairy farming issues. We hope to see you there for a fabulous and interesting evening.

It’s as if my pantry is going bare.

I think there must be a better way to plan for what I would like to have to sustain me over the winter. Each year, I stash away more. But I am too diverse. If I only made spaghetti sauce, peach salsa and strawberries, I think I’d be happy until summer. And perhaps a freezer chest to give me the space to keep all those strawberries.

Half way through February is really a great time to start planning for spring. And there’s a lot of interesting things coming up in Eden Prairie this spring. (see next post)

Hutchinson, Minnesota has an annual garlic festival in August. It sounded like a fun outing on a warm Saturday. An hour’s drive seemed a reasonable distance to buy some local garlic.

What did I know about garlic ahead of time? A bunch of cloves made of a bulb….they are tasty and pungent…my hands smell of garlic after I chop them…they add flavor to almost any dish. Okay, so I knew nothing about garlic.

The festival took place at the McLeod County fairgrounds, primarily in one of the large barns. Not only were there booths about garlic, but there were also vendors sampling local milk and cheese and booths focused on sustainable gardening.

Now about that garlic. There were many farmers selling garlic. Who knew there were so many varieties of garlic? Over 100 varieties are grown in Minnesota. They are planted in October and harvested in July — and then cured before you can buy them. One fellow was sampling tiny pieces of garlic. “Do you like it hot?” he asked me. I didn’t even know the answer. (not really, is my answer) In the past, I go to the store — or the farmstand or the farmers market — and just grab a bulb to cook with. I had no idea that someone had already decided what I would like — or what would last the longest on the shelves.

There are actually two main varieties of garlic: hardneck and softneck. What I’ve generally bought in the grocery store are softneck garlic, mostly from California, 10-40 cloves per bulb, and can be stored for over 6 months. Hardneck garlic bulbs have 4-12 cloves apiece and don’t store as well. I bought a hardneck variety called Music — not because I know what I’m doing but because one of the farmers said it’d go great in my salsa and it has some really large cloves. I also learned how to plant it and I’m wondering if the smell of the plant will ward off those voracious rabbits from eating everything in sight in my garden! I learned that scapes — those delicious curly tops of the garlic plant — are snipped off to increase the growing of the garlic underground.

The garlic festival also had garlic ice cream for a dollar. Listen, if I’m going to eat the calories of ice cream, it’s not going to have garlic in it. Really. I watched people tasting it — they had this moment of “huh?” before really diving in.

It was fun to go to a festival focused on a single food item. Now maybe someone can tell me what to do with two dozen zucchini?

You know those “sample” folks in the grocery stores that give you a taste of something wonderful and then you buy it? Or maybe you’re one of the shoppers who knows precisely when these folks are going to have their little tables with samples set up and you go hungry to the store and eat away? (You know who you are.) Well, I’m the person who looks and keeps walking. (Don’t think me noble — it’s partly my imagining all these disparate foods joining together in my gut that bugs me.)

At Lakewinds last Saturday, during the Eat Local kickoff event, there was this interesting product. The story goes that it was developed by a local (Edina) cardiologist, mostly for her family. Dr. Elizabeth Klodas’ product is organic and is called fibre (accent on the e). It’s a “sprinkle” — a blend of stuff you already know of including (in the blueberry flavor) organic: dried wild blueberries, flax, oat bran, wheat germ, almonds, walnuts and raisins. This does not resemble a granola — it resembles, well, a sprinkle!

Two tablespoons contains 3 grams of fiber, 900 mg omega-3 and antioxidants. Also 3 g of protein and 80 calories.

I didn’t buy it.

The next day, I decided to buy it. It’s not cheap($13.99 a can) but it’s intended to be sprinkled on yogurt or something like that and will last a couple of months. (The web site has other recipes too.)

Okay, this stuff is fabulous! First, it tastes sinfully good. (Remember, I don’t eat ice cream or chocolate any more, so my standards are different. ) When I eat it, I feel as if I’m eating a candy bar sprinkled on my food. Really. It’s that good. I am no expert on heart-healthy foods. Actually, I’m not an expert on any sort of food. But this is an interesting product, made locally, that is worth reading about — and trying.

Yesterday, I stopped by my friends’ John and Mary’s house for a bit of an exchange. I have lots of jam. They have lots of maple syrup. A trade ensued.

In my mind, a good barter is one in which both people think they got the better end of the deal. “Maple syrup, oh my gosh,” I was thinking. “Homemade jam, all that work!” they were thinking.

So here are my questions to the reader:
Have you bartered food before?
Do you have any local goods to barter for jam? Or perhaps peaches? (obviously, nonlocal but I am ready to buy them)

I don’t need zucchini, so please don’t even mention the word. I also don’t think raspberries is on my list of coveted foods right now. Did I say no zucchini?

I am a bit overwhelmed by an abundance of goodness.

Raspberries. So many raspberries. My knees are stained red from kneeling and picking low hanging berries. I’ve made raspberry jam, raspberry marmalade, seedless raspberry jam, as well as black and red raspberry jam. I’ve baked numerous batches of raspberry muffins. I have frozen raspberries. I’ve made fruit leather even. I’ve got about a quart ready to eat in the refrigerator.

Zucchini. I’ve got some monster ones and some smaller ones, and about 6 in between sized. I’ve cooked them up in stir fry, I’ve microwaved them with parmesan cheese. I’ve made zucchini bread (with raisins) and zucchini bread without raisins. I’ve tried an oil-free version which came out white and pasty (with green flecks). I’ve made muffins. I’ve made chocolate zucchini cake. And I’ve got some decisions to make about what to do with the rest. No shortage of ideas, just energy.

Strawberries. My freezer is having trouble with how full it is. It’s packed full of strawberries. After making strawberry jam and more strawberry jam, I froze the berries to use in smoothies, an everyday occurrence in this household. I’m afraid we will run out by fall though. I think one can’t ever have enough strawberries.

It’s glorious, really. To have this much food. It’s fortunate. It’s a blessing. It’s an abundance of goodness.

On my regular walking route with Erin, we pass through a park. Early this morning, it was quiet. The grass was crispy dry. No one was playing baseball on the field. No one was shooting hoops. No kids played on the recycled plastic playground that my kids long ago thought too safe to be fun. No one was playing tennis. Since Erin has an uncanny knack for sniffing out lost tennis balls, we circled behind the tennis courts. Surely she’d find a treasure. Buckthorn was growing wild, crowding out other other growth. It was a tangle of weeds. Erin pushed through and searched but found nothing.

I, however, found black raspberries. The elusive black raspberries were right there. Gorgeous and ripe. I picked a handful and walked the mile home with the leash in one hand and my berries in the other. Local berries. One mile local.

Even if that good thing is zucchini?

I love them. If I could eat one vegetable every day, it would be this one. Eight days ago, there were tiny vegetables. But when I walked into the weed-filled garden, the plant was gigantic, about 4 feet across and there were these seriously big zucchinis. Seriously.

Day one and two have passed of my zucchini binge. I’ll check back about them on day fourteen and see if I’m still loving them.

When I pulled up to Charlie’s house, I was greeted by a robin. She was sitting on the fence. I could hear her, really. She said, “Where’ve ya been? These raspberries need picking! There are too many for me!” I looked at the robin. Could it be true? Too many raspberries?

Charlie was away and I’d been in New England with my son. Yes, I had neglected the raspberries. But I thought about them. Sitting on the train through Boston, thinking, “What about those raspberries?” Driving through the Green Mountains of Vermont, thinking, “I hope the raspberries can wait.” Walking on a road in the Berkshires that crossed from Massachusetts into New York, tart raspberries growing wildly on the side of the road, thinking, “Will the raspberries be okay?”

For the first time I can remember, I was overwhelmed with the abundance of raspberries facing me. Two and half hours later, the robin had long since left me and I had picked until the light was too dim. I had barely made a dent in the berries.

I carried my pans and pails over to the car, my back aching. That was a lot of raspberries. What was that on my windshield? A bird had visited my car and left droppings on the window — and it was mostly raspberry seeds! I laughed, got in, ate a raspberry, and drove home.

To the doubters of the salad table experiment….to those that though using “medium” rather than soil was a risky proposition….to those that thought a little dirt might help….to those that have been enjoying salad for weeks now….

Ah…

Toast & Taste in the Gardens was the name of last night’s after-hours party at the Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. I am a member and enjoy walking through the Arboretum in the summer, spring, fall and particularly the winter. But last night’s event was something quite different — and perfectly done!

Set around the Arboretum were small tents with either “tastes” — local restaurants or “toasts” — local wineries and breweries. When we arrived, we received a name tag and a small commemorative glass. The glass was to be used to enjoy all the toasts! The tents were spaced around the Arboretum in relative proximity to the main buildings. Restaurants represented included Cafe Maude, The Strip Club, Birchwood Casfe, Brasa, OM, Trotter’s Cafe and more.

It was sunny, warm, upper 80s, the gardens were beautiful, the shrub roses and peonies particularly glorious, and the atmosphere was of a Minnesota summer garden party. The tastes were quite honestly, fantastic. Each tent offered a small taste (and sometimes not so small) of one or more of their dishes. My naive self thought it was a bit like a Top Chef event, with chefs milling about, serving us, explaining what was in each taste. It was really a blast.

Outstanding to me was the Birchwood Cafe. They were the first taste I had — and for the next two hours I kept thinking how I wanted to return to their location. And did. I was completely blown away by their Espresso Cream Cheese Brownie pictured above. But their rhubarb dessert with Izzy’s ice cream was a close second. (They also served a non-dessert item that was excellent made with my favorite local Hope Butter….)

The Arboretum did it up right.

During that first month of the 50 Mile Diet, I think I put on some pounds. Although I wrote of having nothing local to eat in my pantry, and although I spent quite a bit of time “foraging” for food, what I really did was eat a lot of what was easy to find locally — ice cream, cheese, eggs and chocolate. Oh sure, I ate my chicken and vegetables, but I’m not the kind of person who is really jazzed by vegetables. And sure I ate fruit, but how many times in a day can you eat just the fruit that is in season? Rhubarb for weeks, strawberrries for weeks, raspberries for weeks, and then apples, apples, apples… And in order to come up with new ways to eat the food repetitively, I found myself baking a lot.

I do love to bake.

Last night, I baked strawberry muffins that called for wheat flour. Never sniffed the wheat flour to see if it were okay, and it was only after the first depressing bite of muffin did I realize the flour had turned rancid. So this morning, if only to redeem myself, I baked up another batch, using only white flour. The batter turned gorgeously red with the berries.

No Mixer Strawberry Muffins
1/2 cup milk
1/4 cup canola oil
1 large egg
1 3/4 cup flour
1/2 cup sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1 cup chopped strawberries — keep it coarsely chopped

Mix the milk, oil and egg together in a bowl. In a separate bowl, mix the dry ingredients. Add the chopped strawberries into the flour mixture, coating the berries. Then gently stir the liquid ingredients into the dry.

Put in lined muffin tins and baked for 25 minutes at 375.

It was a warm morning. Clouds were moving through and I realized that this was a day for strawberry picking. I called the Klingelhutz farm. The automated voice message was inviting. I put on some long pants and a sleeveless shirt, grabbed my various containers, and flew to Waconia. After about 10 miles, I’m on dirt road and the dust blows up behind the car. I have to slow my pace I’m so excited. I love to pick.

I’m hardly the first one there. Mostly women are bent over the strawberry plants. Colleen Klingelhutz gives me my rows. Mine alone. I pick. I pick. And I pick. I pick mostly for jam. I focus on the plants. There are so many berries, it’s incredible. I look for the best berries. There are so many. I lay down on the straw so I can see under the leaves. The berries hide underneath. An overnight rain makes the leaves wet and my shirt is wet. My pants are muddy. I’m so close to the plants I see the spiders dashing away from my probing hands. I don’t much like spiders, but the strawberries take precedence over my dislike of them.

The sun comes out and heats up my arms, my back, and I wish I had a hat. I picked 19 pounds. The woman in front of me picked 42 pounds. Wow.

Once home, my son says, “That’s a lot of strawberries.” I say, “I’ll make one batch of jam.” He says, “Make two, I like strawberry jam.” Apparently, the jars of rhubarb jam haven’t appealed to him too much. So I make 18 jars of jam, half strawberry, and half strawberry vanilla. (It’s an experiment and I think it’s a good one.) I freeze 8 quarts of berries. I still have a pail full of eating berries and more on the counter, awaiting strawberry muffins.

I think I’m done with strawberries for the season.

Raspberries are on my horizon……..

But it’s not supposed to turn into a battle.

The strawberries. Hundreds of them were in my fenced-in garden. It’s got rabbit fencing and netting around that. So how could it be that I keep finding bunnies in the strawberry patch? Little Peter Rabbits that are so tiny they get in and around and under my fencing! I decided to leave the little bunnies alone since they won’t be little for long and then they won’t be able to get in. (right?)

Satisfied, I was sitting in my screen porch, watching the garden grow, and saw two squirrels hop over the fence and start to eat. Seriously? So now there’s netting above the garden too.

So do I have any strawberries? Nope. None. Went picking last week instead. Got some gorgeous berries at Klingelhutz in Waconia.

Now for the lettuce update. Cooler temps and some rain have finally given my salad table the stuff it needed. I will be eating lettuce this week. And then some. I don’t think I’d use this medium again — soil might be easier. I also need to learn to place the seeds more spaced apart so that the roots have some room…..But I like the table.

I spent four weeks watering my salad table. Four weeks of sticking my pointer finger into the non-soil to see if it were wet enough. I watched some of the lettuce sprout and wither. The second planting practically disappeared. Okay, I said to myself, this was an experiment!

Then the rain began. Cool temps and misting rain. From my upstairs window, I can see the table. It began to green. Every morning, I’d smile down at my table. Then, one morning, I saw a rabbit under the table. Hah, I thought, no harm done. You can’t get my lettuce! What he did start to do was to dig a burrow under the table, out of the rain. The dog and I put an end to that plan, at the expense of my fenced in garden, which now has a happy bunny eating the tomato plants to nubs in the earth.

Meanwhile, the rain continues. It’s cool. And lettuce is happy in that. Eventually, I’ll have a small rabbit-sized salad to eat. Eventually. Nibble nibble….

June is the start of the exciting part of the eating local season. And it teaches patience along the way. Since there’s been a complete lack of rain for so many weeks (driest May here since 1934, I think I heard), I have been watering with my hose nearly daily. Strawberries need rain.

They are finally pinking up. This berry looked close yesterday. Just about ready to pop off the plant and into my mouth. Even with the hundreds of berries in my garden, I don’t think there are enough to do anything except “weed and eat.” But patience means waiting until it’s more than pink.

I called my favorite local Waconia strawberry picking patch and she said only a couple of her berries were pink but to check back next week. Strawberry picking is pretty fun. I like to go when it’s quiet early in the morning.

Update: it turned red. And just a little sweet. Should’ve waited.

I was lucky to get these little eggs. And they are almost too perfect and pretty to eat. I was talking to the local high school librarian Cindy about Barbara Kingsolver’s book, Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. It’s a book that Eden Prairie will be reading in its next community-wide read (www.epreads.org). The book was the impetus for this blog and my personal local eating initiative. Next thing I know, Cindy is dashing off to get me some eggs. They come from another high school teacher whose daughters (Natalie and Ellie) have gathered and cleaned them. Wow! I was honored to get some of them. I have learned that these are new chickens (younger?) and they lay smaller eggs. I guess I can eat more of them! Thanks!!!

The strawberries are getting close. Year one: I had about 3 berries, all told. Year two: I had closer to 20 berries. This year? I’m in the hundreds! Hardly enough to can — but enough to walk through the garden and munch.

My farmer within is happy. She says, yes, you can grow something productive in that garden beside the never-dying chives. You can. My one happy little organic plant from Lakewinds has spread rapidly in the years, sending out new shoots under the autumn leaves when I’m not paying attention. It’s very cool.

Last year we planted 4 raspberry plants near the strawberry patch. Two died over the winter. If the rabbits don’t eat them down, I might see a berry or two by late summer. But I’m not feeling overly hopeful for them.

Brenda, over at Donna’s farm said to me the other day, “You’ll be bonding with your lettuce.” She even laughed a bit.

I didn’t laugh. And with these two 90 degree days, I’m still not laughing. And what’s even more brutal on cooler weather crops is the wind advisory blowing this hot air across Minnesota. My poor beloved lettuce.

I am totally bonded with my lettuce growing in my salad table. As a reminder to an earlier post, I am growing the lettuce in a raised table using no real soil. It’s an organic composting material. All those gardeners “in the know” have warned me that it will be too dry, hard to grow, be sure to watch it closely, and good luck.

I am determined to have salad from this table. And yes, I am bonding with my lettuce.