www.eatlocalchallenge.com

Field trip report #3: Honey extraction class

by Jamie S.

This spring my significant other and I took a beekeeping class at the State Botanical Garden of Georgia.

Concurrent with the beginning of the class, we bought two packages of bees from a huge south Georgia apiary that shall remain nameless. Early on, we could tell something was amiss. It was peak nectar flow, and the hives were surrounded by blackberry and tulip poplar blossoms; yet we never saw the bees outside the hive. They languished, drinking copious amounts of the sugar water we fed them, yet failing to draw out any comb or (in the case of the queens) lay any eggs. So of course, when the bees came to the end of their natural lifespans--about 40 days--there were none to replace them. Whammo, we were out of business.

Honey, I love you

by Julie Cummins

If I had been born with teeth, they all would have been sweet. My sugar preference (read: addiction) could have started in-utero; my mom is as madly in love with sweets as I am, if not more. It certainly started early, as seen in this photo of me at 1 1/2, in the process of sucking down my first ice cream cone.

So when I took on the Eat Local Challenge, my biggest concern was how I would fare without sugar. Would I have nagging cravings? Would I be grouchy and irritable? Would life seem empty and meaningless?

Fortunately, we humans plunder a delicious sweetener from thousands of fuzzy, winged, hardworking little ladies: bees. Thank heaven and earth for honey. Honey is one product that is available locally almost anywhere. And one thing I have in common with Winnie the Pooh is my opinion on honey and how far I'll go to get it.

Not everyone is a gardener

by Jasmine

I am not a gardener. I have dabbled in gardening and failed miserably. The year that I rented a garden plot in Burlington, Vermont’s Intervale had to be one of the most humbling experiences in my brief gardening career. The garden plot comes marked out and with the soil freshly turned by the blades of a rototiller (or more likely a tractor). I bought seeds and seedlings. I marked out rows. I planned companion plantings. I tried to plan succession planting but a little math soon led me to see that 70 days from the end of the season was only three weeks after the beginning of the season. This is where the adventure began.

Lamb's Quarters

by Laurie O.

Now that I've discovered them, I may never go back to spinach.  They're free, they're delicious, they're easy and fast to cook, they're good in salads.  They're nutritious.  They store well. You can freeze them.  They grow like - weeds.  I mean, really.

Lamb's quarters are growing all over the community garden.  I gathered some last Sunday, washed them and stored them in the refrigerator in a plastic bag, then gathered the rest of the ones in my row yesterday.  The ones in the refrigerator were just fine to cook today.  I bagged them stems and all, and maybe that made a difference.

In the chapter about lamb's quarters in Stalking the Wild Asparagus, Euell Gibbons mainly takes issue with another nickname for this fine wild food, "pigweed."  But he does have a bit of advice for the wild foods cook: "There are few better wild potherbs than this close relative of garden spinach. 

Beat Me to It

By Sarah Irani

I was just going to write about growing your own food when I logged onto ELC and found that someone had already beaten me to it!  This topic can extend beyond growing your own food to selecting plants and flowers from local nurseries. There is a great nursery here in town, Dutch Plant Farm, where we get all of our gardening materials and plants. I get positively giddy in there with all the rows and rows of fabulous little seedlings and hanging baskets. Last night I was selecting which flowers were going to go into my corner garden when I started noticing "Grown in Maryland" and "Maryland Pride" stickers on certain plants. So, of course I selected those for my garden!  I will confess that I planted some petunias and delphinium that were not local, but since the ELC has become a part of my life, I find myself asking questions, "Where was this grown?"

Antique Roses...

Grow Your Own Food (and do it as Organically as possible)

by Jack & Joanne

Even if it's just a tiny amount. Really! The toughest thing about gardening is remembering to water regularly (which also means not too often in fact the key is to water a lot infrequently). Maybe the next hardest thing is actually taking the plunge. Putting those seeds or plants in dirt. It’s risky. They might not come up, they might die. You might forget to water them. You know what? Just do it and see what happens.

Buy organic seeds/starter plants and organic compost (*not* soil starter, not miracle anything!). Organic compost is the soil and it’s all you need for soil. Really! If you don’t have some already it can be purchased in bags at your nursery or for larger quantities - delivered to your house by the yard (a cubic measurement) from nursery/landscape material providers. (Check under Landscape Materials in the yellow pages).

Eating From the Pantry

by Liz

Here in northern New England, it's imperative to be prepared if you are at all committed to eating seasonally.  "Being prepared" means stocking the pantry with excess produce while it's in season -- either by freezing, canning, dehydrating or root cellaring.  Whether the produce is from your own garden or from a local farmer, it makes both economical and common sense  While I am just now starting to crave fresh green vegetables, I'm still doing most of my eating out of the pantry, and am thankful for it.

I have a vegetable garden because it's a great way to spend time outdoors, stay fit and clear my head.  Mostly, though, I garden because I love to eat high quality food, and I can easily grow $1000 worth of organic produce in a growing season.  Keeping a large garden also means that I must practice and hone my skills when it comes to putting this bounty up.

A suspicion

by Jamie S.

I'll admit it: Down here in middle Georgia (the lower edge of Zone 7), we have it easy. Most of our sturdy greens and root vegetables can be overwintered, and our spring planting season starts in March. May is a shoulder season--down with the old, up with the new.

(I won't mention the bugs and the heat. I know it comes off as whining. World's tiniest violin, etc.)

If you live in a colder zone, you may be worried that there won't be much of anything at your local farmstand in May. But remember that some of your local farmers have greenhouses. I have a plastic hoophouse, and it makes me feel pretty darned clever. You can push the seasons ahead by a month at least. The plants grow in the same soil and battle the same bugs; the only difference is a little extra solar heat.

Lettuce Bowls

by Sherrill

Living in the Northwest (Washington State), our winters are pretty mild, so once I can get lettuce or other cool-weather crops going, I'm out in the garden doing so. 

This year, I decided to put my lettuce in containers on the deck (far from any slugs that could find it), where it can get morning and late afternoon sun, keeping the "heat of the day" off the tender leaves.  Also, just walking out to the deck to pick off what I need while dinner is cooking is a bonus. 

One cup of Romaine lettuce has 8 calories, 0.58 gram protein, 1.0 gram fiber, 16 mg calcium, 116 mg potassium, 11.3 mg vitamin C, 64 mcg folate, 48.2 mcg of vitamin K, 1637 mcg beta carotene and 1087 mcg of lutein + zeaxanthin. (USDA Nutrient Data Laboratory)

Enjoy!

Sherrill ~ aka:  BaaBonnyBelle

Full Circle, Almost

by Laurie O.

In the swamp country of southeastern North Carolina where I grew up, it was common for each family to have a small vegetable garden in which they grew food for their own consumption.  Our cash crops had already moved to the monocultures of tobacco, field corn, and soybeans, but you could count on eating fresh, frozen, and canned vegetables from the garden all year long.  Plenty of swapping went on as well - neighbors gave us sweet potatoes and collard greens, and they were free to pick blueberries in our bountiful patch. 

We lived near the coast, and my father was an accomplished fisherman of red drum. He bought shrimp directly from the small boats that came to his small marina and mechanic shop near Calabash, N.C.  Eggs came from our next-door neighbor and milk came from Mr. Cook's cow down the road.  Hunters on our farm occasionally provided us with venison.

Urban Gardening

by Jeanne Brophy

I'm a gardener without a garden. Collecting tips for years into a big folder on how to cultivate the tastiest heirloom tomatoes to keeping slugs at bay.  I've plotted a container garden for my zone but later was thwarted as there's only 3 hours of sun before the fog rolls over the 12'x12' shared spaced below my kitchen window.  But unfortunately space and lack of soil keeps me from seedlings and harvesting.

As a result my shelves are filled with garden books including those by Gertrude Jekyll, the turn of the century English garden designer and writer (from a semester long course I ambitiously embarked on); the ever popular Golden Gate Gardening, (a must for the multi-micro climate of the area); books on creating a cottage garden (a dream...) and many garden-themed cookbooks such as Victoria Wise's  Smith & Hawken Gardeners Community Cookbook.  This cookbook is a reliable stalwart of practicality and bounty. 

There's still time!

by Jamie S.

The May Eat Local Challenge starts in only a couple of weeks. But if you can lay hands on a little bit of good dirt, you can have your own homegrown greens sooner than you think. Arugula "Astro" is a variety that comes up fast and tolerates heat--which, if you're in the American southeast like I am, is going to be important in the hot drought year that's shaping up.

Or you can plant sorrel (pictured). Few greens are as versatile as this easy-to-grow, tart-leaved perennial. I'll be showcasing it in various ways throughout the month.

Jamie S. lives in rural Georgia and writes 10 Signs Like This, a blog that's part gardening journal, part cookbook, part sustainable lifestyle, and part short attention span.