A Soggy World

The debate the other evening with some neighbors was whether a dry summer or a wet summer was preferred. A silly debate because we have no control either way over the weather. We want our rain when we want it and our sunny days the same way.

But after a month of solid rain I am, at this moment in time, solidly on the side of a dry summer. Tomatoes are bursting their skins while still green. The gutters fell off the front and back of the main barn. The winter squash vines rotted away before setting fruit. The workshop has flooded four times. And I’ve lost count of the times the drive has had to be graded.

On the plus side I harvested yesterday, with the help of a friend, two and half pounds of beautiful and delectable chanterelle mushrooms from our woods. Last night I sautéed some of them in butter, added some brandy, heavy cream and parmesan cheese before spooning them over pork chops. That dinner took a bit of the sting out of living in a soggy world.

Mushroom harvest

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Reading this week: Founding Gardeners: the revolutionary generation, nature and the shaping of the American nation by Andrea Wulf

A Winged Elm Farm Alphabet Book

“A” is for asparagus.

In a way starting an alphabet book in winter it is fitting to start with asparagus. Right now the asparagus patch is brown and seemingly empty of life. But “seemingly” is deceptive. The spears begin to show in late February. And it still remains a surprise to walk by the patch and spot that first spear, popped up like a mushroom after a rain. How did it get to be six inches tall without our noticing? Eating that first asparagus raw, still cool from the morning chill is one of those things on a farm that makes the labor have purpose. We harvest them daily for about 10 weeks.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Reading this weekend Jared Diamond’s new release, The World Until Yesterday: what can we learn from traditional societies.

Mushroom Foraging

The forecast: 20% chance of afternoon showers. The plan: a mushroom foraging event for twenty. The reality: it poured buckets all morning.

Rounding the corner of one of our fields I came upon a member of our foraging party standing under a large oak looking for all like the proverbial drowned rat. We had been hunting mushrooms in the forest for an hour and half in the pouring rain and no let-up was in sight. I told her to head to the house. She trooped of with half a dozen other soaked to the skin foragers. A few of us soldiered on for another hour before returning to the farmhouse.

Cindy meanwhile had many of the returnees clothed in various combinations of our work clothes, hair dryers were going, clothes spinning in the dryer, hot tea in each hand and a bottle of stouter stuff passed among the group. Lunch was laid out on the table and everyone dug in while we identified our meager finds:

One mushroom we found throughout the woods with the somewhat gelatinous shaft and the round cap was probably one of the Calostoma members. My reference “A Field Guide to Southern Mushrooms” indicates it is “of no interest as an edible”. The other common mushroom we found: salmon colored cap, white gills meeting the stalk meets most of the criteria of the Hygrophorus family. Many of these are edible. But none of my sources raved about their culinary properties.

We also found a lot of turkey tails which one of our foragers had experience with their use. Apparently this genus is prized in Asian markets as a medicinal herb used to reduce inflammation and tumors. That was kind of cool.

Anyway, our wet and bedraggled crew dried out and all claimed they had a terrific time. This claim includes the woman who jabbed a paring knife to the hilt in her upper thigh. As everyone drove off the skies had cleared to a brilliant blue spring day.