The Season of Pickled Herring

The Season of Pickled HerringIMG_4416

I am Swedish by birth, only partly, but some.  The Christmas holidays, these days, is Pickled Herring season.  We didn’t eat it when I was a kid, and I don’t know when I developed at taste for it.  Probably this happened during the years when I lived in the neighborhood of Ballard in Seattle in my young adult life, eons ago.  Since then, the Christmas holidays always included pickled herring.  There was a wonderful bakery/deli name Johnson’s and later Olson’s, I believe, where it was readily available.  I used to go there and buy almond paste and air smoked and hardened lamb and pickled herring that they made in fifty gallon drums.  Theirs was the best. They also carried about twenty-five brands of cod liver oil.  I asked who bought this stuff.  It seems that folks who grew up with it needed to be supplied consistently in their adulthood.  Can you imagine drinking this stuff voluntarily?

Now that place is gone and we travel to Ballard to the Scandinavian Specialties shop on 15th Northwest.  Theirs isn’t the best, but it is the best substitute we can find. My husband went two days ago and bought a couple of quart tubs of herring, a pint of lingonberries and some currant spread.  We now make our own potato sausage so we don’t purchase that any longer.  They do not have the air dried lamb.  Times change and folks no longer eat these specialties.  I guess I am old fashioned even though they are not from my youth.

I can remember as a kid trying to talk my mom into buying gjetost from the grocery during the holidays.  Every year I would think I loved this.  You can read about this brown, caramelized cheese that is considered Scandinavian Fudge on the internet at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brunost.  Each year I would take a few bites and it would languish until tossed to the chickens about April.  My mom would give me a scowl and put the small package in the cart, but she knew it would not get eaten.  My dad would eat a few bites too, but it was so cloying that it clenched the muscles in your jaws to rigor mortis.

Anyway, I found myself with pickled herring, the kind in sugared vinegar, not sour cream, my favorite.  I also had on hand several other ingredients and wanted to make a Latvian salad I had had a few years ago that had really impressed me. It is also eaten in Finland, Estonia and Norway to name a few places.  I made it last night for dinner with warm rolls and felt like the holidays had truly arrived. The recipe is below.

When I brought my love of pickled herring into the relationship with my husband, he turned up his nose and pooh hood the dastardly stuff.  Said he wouldn’t get caught eating such weird ethnic stuff.  Was this a slur on my heritage?  Of course not, he loved me and yes he would try a piece, but only one piece.

I went off to work the next day and when I returned, he was making dinner.  I decided to have a couple of pieces of herring as an appetizer before he served dinner.  I rummaged through the refer to find the quart container I had purchased at Johnson’s.  I couldn’t find it.  We had eaten about a half cup the night before, but the remaining three quarters or so of the quart eluded my search.  He had eaten it all for lunch.  Boy, was he taken with pickled herring.  I am glad, as I love it, but I was sorely disappointed to not have more than a few bites of that quart.

So for the Latvian version of Herring and Potato Salad, here it is.  I noticed that my husband ate half of the salad today while I was it work.  Luckily there was enough for a photo. Enjoy.

Estonia: Herring and Potato Salad

Estonian Herring and Potato Salad

For the salad:

  • Pickled herring to taste, we use lots
  • 2 red-skinned potatoes, boiled and cut into 1/2-inch dice
  • 3 canned beets, cut into 1/2-inch dice ( I cooked fresh from the garden)
  • 1/3 cup minced onions
  • 1 large tart apple, cored and cut into 1/2 inch dice
  • 1/2 cup diced dill pickles
  • 2 hard-cooked eggs, chopped

For the dressing and garnish:

  • 1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard (I used brown mustard seeds)
  • 1 teaspoon dry mustard plus I used some sweet and hot prepared too
  • 1/2 cup prepared mayonaise
  • 1 1/3 cups sour cream
  • 1 teaspoon prepared horseradish, drained
  • 1/2 teaspoon sugar, or more to taste
  • Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
  • 1 hard-boiled egg, for garnish

Cut the herring into half inch square pieces. Place in a large bowl and combine with the potatoes, onion, beets, apple, chopped eggs, pickles.

In a small bowl, whisk the mustards with the mayo until smooth. Stir in the remaining dressing ingredients (through the salt and pepper) and blend well.

Add the dressing to the salad: toss. Transfer to a serving bowl. Serve garnished with sliced egg.

Serves 6.

 

 

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The Use-By Date

Do you ever read those things on a can of beans? On the package of butter or noodles you just bought?  Have you purchased an item at the grocery only to discover when you got home that it was past its “use by date?”  My sister-in-law use to clean out my mother-in-laws refer and cupboards of all the past the use by date goods and she had little left in the pantry.  Do we get sick if we consume something past its use by date? Even if it hasn’t been opened?

What about people?  I think I am past my use by date.  This is the date where the parts start to fall apart.  Up to a certain point we have damage, just like the damaged goods canned food with big dents in them.  But after the use by date does the product begin to deteriorate?  Well people begin to deteriorate at some point in their lives.  All those hinges begin to wear and the body begins to fall apart.  This is the point in my life.  I try tai chi and digging in the garden and touching my toes, but it takes me a while to recuperate, but at least I still recuperate.

I was just reading a book by Daniel Everett called Don’t Sleep—There are Snakes. Though it is primarily a book about language and language development, it is also a study of a group of native people in a far off tributary of the Amazon.  Their use by date comes well before ours.  They live to be thirty-eight or thirty-nine years old and then they are worn out. They do not build houses but sleep on the ground outdoors.  They hunt when they are hungry, but not unless they are hungry. They have no record of the past and no concept of the future, no written language, no counting system or names for colors.  They found it most interesting that the foreigners lived to be so old and were so concerned about life’s comforts.

When I worked at Boeing, I rode to work in a carpool.  There were five of us, I being the youngest and Earl being the oldest.  Earl was counting the days to his retirement when he could go to the thrift and junk store seeking antiques on a daily basis.  He was going to make a second occupation of this after working a lifetime at Boeing.  Earl died within a year of retirement.  Back then the average life expectancy was about sixty-seven for men.  The average life expectancy for a Boeing retiree at that point in history was a year and a half after retirement. The use by date being considerably shorter than today.

No wonder many of us didn’t bother to worry earlier about end of life care insurance and help in our old age.  We only had a couple of years after we retired to make ends meet and then our use by date was up.  Now we can live another forty years or so.  My dad retired at fifty-three and lived almost that long again after he retired. Our bodies give out, but we continue on in a more limited fashion.

Next week I have my annual physical.  I am sure that I am fine, but the doc requires it to get his bit of Medicare payment for the “wellness exam.” I wouldn’t go, but he will no long renew my prescription if I don’t come in.  After surviving cancer twice, it is a good thing to see how much wellness I have left or if I am approaching my use by date. I think it is still a ways off yet.

 

Back Roads

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The Back Road to our Farm (the only road)

Today we will go to a potluck sponsored by the local historical society here on Whidbey Island.  The potluck is at a hundred year old community hall.  This gathering happens once a quarter and the discussion is about back roads of Whidbey.  This time we are discussing Quade Road and Goodell Road.  I assume that this is the current Goodell Road as there use to be a couple of roads named Goodell Road.

The photo above is a back road, albeit, more rustic in nature than the ones under discussion.  It is an old road to my farm where I grow my vegetables and fruit.  I have talked about growing there in former blogs.  The interesting thing about this road is it is six hundred and sixty feet down this road to the edge of my farm.  I travel another four hundred feet beyond to the garden.  The farm is ten acres of very secluded land.  About two acres is cleared and my garden and fruit trees are in this clearing.  We have farmed here for about seventeen years.  It is not where we live, but eighteen miles from our home.

We use to garden at our home, but the land to the south of us, which was fields when we moved here, have grown up into tall conifers and shaded out our garden and orchard.  Now we garden in this remote site. I love the peace and solitude this remote location affords.  About the only sounds I hear when I am gardening are the resident raven making his croaky sound to talk with its mate, an occasional airplane and the scream of an eagle who has his eye on my dachshund. I have to keep a careful eye on both the dog and the eagle.  If the eagle gets too aggressive the dog has to be in the truck.  He would much rather be looking for mice in the garden. He likes to dig in the garden with me.

The interesting thing about this back road to my garden is that once this road was frequented by trucks that hauled strawberries to the local steamboats that took the goods to larger city centers.  Until 1945 this was a strawberry farm, as were many of the farms in adjacent area.  They had their own grange in the community as well.

In 1945, for some reason, the farm was left to decay.  The folks who lived here moved out, leaving a very small house, two rooms, no plumbing, electricity, with wood heat, and never returned.  We bought it in 1988.  The house was partially collapsed and had to be taken down.  A neighbor down the street gave us a photo of what it looked like when a family lived here.  He didn’t know what happened to them.  When we bought the property, strawberries still grew here, wild, but not flourishing.

There were also two other buildings on the property and an old root cellar.  The two other buildings were at opposite ends of the property and were workers shacks.  They were about ten by fifteen feet with just studs on the inside walls.  The outsides had shiplap siding.  Where there were knot holes in the siding and the knots had fallen out, the residents (strawberry pickers and weeders) had nailed up cornflakes box tops over the holes to keep the elements and mice out.  Tin can lids were nailed over some of these as well.  The same was true of the boards on the floor.  The roofs were hand split cedar shakes from the property.

It was always fun to travel down this long road through two gates and arrive at this little part of history that we owned.  We had hoped to build here someday, but life passed us by and it never happened.  We garden and enjoy the solitude and hope that the folks who had tended there garden here so long ago watch over us and feel that we are good husbanders of their land.  It is never easy work.  Even with my modest garden, it is still a lot of work.  I can’t imagine tending acres of strawberries.  They also had goats, so maybe they provided milk and cheese and weeding for the strawberry farmers.

Now we are to an age where we have to think about the end of our lives and the farm will provide our retirement when we sell it.  The time has come and I only hope that the new owners, when they materialize, are as reverent of the land as those who have gone before.

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Hundred Year Old Apple Trees

The dish I am making for the potluck, if you are interested, is Italian Strata

Here is the recipe.

Italian Strata

Layer the following in a large casserole (I am using my lidded cast iron kettle)

Large cubed bread (day old, stale, tough) soaked in a little butter, cream and milk until soft

Finely chopped onion

Pesto

Sun-dried tomatoes

Goat cheese (chevre)

Homemade ricotta (see previous blog) with a little lemon zest stirred in

Red and yellow peppers chopped

Diced and browned lonzino (you could use bacon or ham)

I mixed five eggs with milk and poured over

Topped with shredded romano cheese

And bake until set.  Because mine is large, I am baking part of the time with the lid on and then taking off to brown for the last few minutes.

I know, I didn’t give any measurements.  It is just great to do it by feel and sight.  You can add lots of goodies or a few.  Bread is the main constituent, but it doesn’t have to be.  Just have fun.

Winter

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I guess that winter is here.  In a previous blog, I wrote that winter should be two months before December 21 and two months after.  Well the day before yesterday (Nov. 3rd) we had snow.  Not much, but snow.  Now it is thirty-four degrees outside.  It is dark and cloudy and they predict three inches of snow tonight.  It is early for us to have snow, but not the earliest.  The earliest was Halloween when the kids wondered about amidst the snowflakes to collect their annual haul of too much sugar.  These days, we don’t have any trick or treaters.  Haven’t now for several years and we haven’t had much early snow either.

When we woke up yesterday morning, the internet was out.  Was it just my computer being its recalcitrant self, or was the system down?  After several tries at fixes, I called a couple of neighbors and found out theirs were down as well.  Couldn’t get through to the people who provide the service so assumed that they already knew that they had had a failure.

While eating breakfast, I hear the friendly beep, beep, beep and know that we are finally back on line and that emails are arriving.  Five minutes later the power goes out. This IS winter.  Typical.

I had already made breakfast so that wasn’t an issue.  We were eating when everything went black.  We live in the woods, so it is dark without lights in our house.

What to do.  We went for a two mile walk, visiting with friends along the way to be sure they were warm and could cook food, if needed.  It was much lighter outside down the road than in the house.  Though the temperature was cold, we spent about an hour and a half outside enjoying the crisp weather and the neighbors, except for the racket of generators chugging away to keep their houses lit.

We do not have a generator. We have lived through almost fifty years of power outages.  This is nothing new. We have a small set up for the evening of a large LED light bulb in a small receptacle hooked to an inverter and then to a battery.  Works great and it is a very bright light by which to read. Works for us and we usually read in the evenings anyway.  We don’t own a television, so we don’t feel withdrawal .

After our morning walk, in the freezing weather, we came home to have tea.  Why is it the power goes out when the weather is the coldest? Anyway, my husband filled a saucepan with water (we normally use an electric teakettle), put it on the wood cookstove to boil.  I asked if he wanted his tea more quickly he might want to use the stove in the kitchen which is gas.  He tried to start the burner with the clicker on the stove, but since there was no electricity, he needed to use a match.  Habit is a hard thing to break.

Shortly after lunch, the power came back on.  It was on for a while when we had a brown out.  I called it in to the power company, but didn’t see any response.  Yet again in the next morning it was still browning out.  I called again as low voltage is not good for many appliances.

The brown out did merit some phone calls to us from neighbors, some of which I hadn’t heard from in years, to see if we were affected. At ten thirty this morning, about twenty minutes after a call the power company, the brown out was over.  The lights are bright again and the motors are humming at their usual levels.

Now life is back to normal and it is snowing.  It started the day before yesterday, just a few flakes, nothing significant.  It started again this morning and some of the roofs were white.  Fortunately, most of our neighbors now have some alternative for heat besides electricity or they have a generator to run fans on propane furnaces and stoves.  Back in the beginning, forty or fifty years ago, many did not have a way to heat when the power went off so now in our community there are “warming stations,” back then we just all got together at a warm house and had a neighborhood gathering.  I sort of miss those.

 

Good Food

Recently we went camping and one of the places we were sure to stop on our way down the coast was Westport, Washington.  Westport is a key charter fishing port.  There are tons of charter fishing boats as well as private fishing boats, crabbers, ones who fish for salmon, halibut and much more.

This is a very small town which has only a small business district with lots of restaurants for fisherman who are staying there to eat.  We were there once when we had a medical emergency and we would have had to travel a very long distance to get help according to a local clinic.  Either we would have had to go to Pt. Angeles or Astoria.  We decided to deal with it ourselves.  This tells you that the services in this town are skimpy and mostly related to charter fishing.

There are however several places here for the gourmand. One of the best is a seafood shack for purchasing oysters, scallops, mussels, all kinds of fish and more is located here.  We purchased our usual pint of yearling oysters and ate oysters for breakfast, lunch and dinner for a couple of days.  These quarter size delicacies are extra ordinary.  Doused with a little panko and lemon zest and fried in browned butter there is nothing better.  For breakfast, fried bacon, onions and oysters in scrambled eggs with home fries on the side you are really eating high on the hog.

The other place that is near and dear to our hearts is Bay City Meats.  These folks are the best source for sausages and meats.  We bought Mulligans, linguisa, chorizo, breakfast sausage, landjager, and more.

We have been home for about a month now and we broke open the chorizo for dinner tonight.  It was exquisite! Spicy with just the right amount of fat.  The stuff they sell locally is about 75% fat. Yuck.  This was just perfect.  I made chili sauce with guajillo chilies by roasting them in a little oil and then blending with boiling water, garlic and grilled tomatoes.  I put the chorizo, chili sauce and grated cheese in tortillas and spread with sauce and cheese on the top.  Just the right amount of heat and aromatics to make a dinner that was over the top.  I can still taste it and the house has this wonderful aroma.

Luckily we still have tortillas, sauce and some fried chorizo left to make migas for breakfast.  Our version is to take the chili sauce and poach eggs in it.  I will fry tortillas, dip them in the chili sauce, place the poached egg on top and cover with chorizo and more chili sauce and cheese.  Boy I am hungry already and it is still evening.

When we were on this camping trip we also found in Twisp, Washington a source for elk burger, so we had elk burger spaghetti and elk burger pastitsio last week, but those are for another blog.

Take care and enjoy.

Rabbits, Rabbits, Rabbits

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Yes, Rabbits!  A town nearby on Whidbey Island is having an issue with lots of rabbits.  These are not the wild cottontails that live around my farm, but domestics that have run rampant.

Years ago, the county fair, which is located adjacent to the city limits, had an event for children called The Barnyard Scramble.  Folks on the island donated animals, of which they had a surplus, for the children to chase and capture and take home.

Many a parent didn’t think little Johnny had a chance of catching a piglet or rooster or rabbit or duck so allowed them to enter in the competition.  Unfortunately, Johnny or Mary DID catch one.  Now they had to take it home to a situation for which they were totally unprepared.  How do you house a piglet, rooster, rabbit or duck?  The local feed store made out like bandits as the confused parent tried to decide what was needed to keep the little treasure happy and alive.

We live on an island with lots of predators, coyotes, raccoons, weasels, owls, hawks, eagles, and mink.  Keeping my chickens safe is a project, one that has needed a lot of polishing over the years to avoid disaster.

Well mom or dad is at the feed store trying to decide what type of containment, food, water, vitamins, minerals, sleeping materials this new member of their family needs to be happy.

Sometimes it is so frustrating that they just decide to let it go in another neighborhood away from theirs.  Johnny is heartbroken, but maybe we can get him a more suitable pet, perhaps a gerbil.

Well, one of the problems with the Barnyard Scramble is that a few of the more wily got away.  Mostly rabbits.  For a number of years their number was not significant.  Now, numerous years later, they have multiplied logarithmically.

I was walking downtown the other day and didn’t see the rabbit.  It only just avoided my stepping on it by a “hare’s-breath.”  It just laid there sunning itself, challenging me to walk around.

Now they dig up the football field at the school creating leg-breaking divots in the terrain.  They are competing with the local deer in the neighborhood for your delectable bedding plants within minutes of them being established in their proper location in the garden.  They hide under the rhododendrons, sleep in your garden shed and…… have three or four litters of up to six offspring each year.

I drove into town in May and there were five identical quints nibbling grass at the bus stop.  They were still hanging out together two weeks later.  When I first spied them they were smaller than teacup size and then they were full grown and looking at each other in a distinctly sexual way.  Children driving to town with you in your car can get a sex education in almost every block of town.

I live six miles from this town and twice in the last two months, foreign, domestic rabbits have appeared in my neighborhood.  I have had a problem with cottontails for years.  They will run when they see me.  They do chew off the tulips and then decide that they really didn’t like the taste of them, leaving them laying on the ground to wilt and die.  They use the same approach with raspberries, and my bedding plants.  If you plant bulbs in the fall they will dig them up to see if they are edible and leave them laying on the ground to get frozen if you don’t notice soon enough.  Some folks plant bulbs with chicken wire placed over the top and then filled with dirt to deter them.  The bulbs grow through the chicken wire just fine.

Recently around the Pacific Northwest the news folks have been predicting the doom and gloom of a cataclysmic event.  Do you have enough water?  Do you have enough food?  Do you have a plan to keep warm?  How will you survive unless you plan ahead?

I have planned ahead.  I am ready.  When this happens, we will eat rabbit.  Don’t tell anyone, because, there are only enough for us for each season.  Well maybe a little more than enough for us.  I am not sure what we will eat with them, but we use to eat rabbit a lot when we raised them for meat.  Why not now?  Rabbit stew day in and day out may be boring, but it is life sustaining.  I am not sure we could put much of dent in the population at the rate they reproduce, but we could make some inroads.

 

 

Peace and the Bountiful Harvest

It is late October and I just looked out into the very dark evening after a somewhat mixed day and I see the crescent moon through the trees.  It is a peaceful sight.  There is also no wind.  It isn’t warm, but it is peaceful.  I have just gone out and gotten wood for the fire to keep us warm through the night.

I guess that we can say, officially, that we are headed to winter.  That is the thing about living in the maritime northwest.  Winter is usually at least two months before and after the winter solstice.  Why does winter start then?  We have our coldest, wettest weather before AND after that date.  I never could understand why winter officially started on the 21st of December.  We are long in the throes of winter by then.

I have just finished doing all the tomatoes I am going to do this year.  We have been hauling home buckets of them from our farm for processing.  I have made zillions of bottles of tomato sauce, tomato paste, tomato pickle relish (both red and green), marinara and more. I had two large buckets left to finish today and I am hoping this is the last of it.  They do look beautiful sitting on the shelves in the root cellar.  We had thirty-eight plants at the farm and another nine here in the greenhouse.  They stopped blooming a month ago, and then we just hoped that some ripen, which they did in abundance.

Most of the preserving is finished.  The old apple trees, over a hundred years old, are just about ready to pick.  They are good keepers if I pick them while they are still in the starch.  Seldom do you find apples in the store “in the starch.”  If all the starch has turned to sugar, then the apples will start to deteriorate.  If they are in the starch, then they have a while to reach their full ripeness.  We pick them and they taste wonderful all the way until May.  I find that most of the ones I see in the store are already on the pithy side.  Many times, here in the northwest, they dump last year’s cold storage apples on us which lack flavor and are already mushy.  I love the ones we pick because they are so crisp and crunchy.

I finished freezing the green beans two months ago.  The pumpkins I grew this year are the kind that have hulless seeds. I will scrape them out of the pumpkins and clean them and roast them for pepitas for winter.  This is the first time I have grown these, so I have no experience with this.  Folks tell me that the pumpkin itself is not very tasty.  We will see, and if not then the chickens will benefit from their flesh.

We did have a bumper crop of peppers this year.  Mostly varieties of sweet peppers.  The hot peppers don’t get very hot in our climate as it is generally to cool for those flavors to fully develop.  I used a lot of them in the marinara. We did make poppers.  I make them by cutting the small  peppers in half lengthwise and filling with chorizo and covering with cheese (jack or mozz, but gooey cheese) and then baking in the oven until bubbly.  Boy, are these good.  You can serve them as appetizers, but we make a meal of them we have so many.

I am truly proud of myself this year as I actually had three gorgeous eggplant.  I have harvested two and will go get the last this weekend.  I made mousaka with one of them. Homemade ricotta, fresh tomato sauce, garden peppers, a real homegrown treat.

Well, I have ranted enough about the bounty we experienced this season.  I need to go damper the wood kitchen range where the tomato sauce bubbled away all day and is now safely cooling in the pressure cooker until morning.

I feel like I accomplished a reasonable harvest this year.  Yes, it is peaceful and I am enjoying watching that crescent moon.  Now we can bed down for winter.