Monsoon season has begun. The weather prognosticators early last week had predicted heavy rains coming in on Friday. Fortunately they were wrong (what are the chances of that happening?) and the rain held off to Saturday evening, making for a fairly decent Farmer's Market. The weather outlook for this year's four remaining outdoor markets is not likely to be as dry, as November, on average, is our second wettest month - 6.9 inches. December is usually the wettest - averaging 7.43 inches. The great majority of that moisture is rain; snow making only the occasional cameo appearance on the valley floor.
Having been bred a desert rat, the monsoon season is something that still requires some mental "girding of loins" even though we've been here for over seven years. My desert psyche craves sunshine in the midst of so much gray. On the flip side are two positives. First - the average highs and lows for December (coldest month) are 46 and 34 degrees respectively. I'm not a fan of the cold and the mild winters here are an acceptable trade off for the notable lack of sunshine. In my perfect universe the temperature would never drop below 72 degrees (see mention of my fantasy coffee farm in Kauai in a previous blog). Second positive - green. Most other places I've lived face brown lawns and bare trees by this time of year. Here, my lawn's greenest months are in the winter. This area grows 90% of the world's grass seed, and all that moisture combined with mild temps combine to create green fields of grass wherever you drive.
I rejoice, also, for the moisture the winter months bring to my fledgling orchard. One of the primary goals for the farm is to find an economical way to capture and store all this rain for the dry, thirsty months of July, August, and September. Water tank? Cistern? Pond? All possibilities, but no definite answers as of yet.
There is some mysterious force at work that draws me to brewing beer as the cool wet weather descends upon the land. It's not just the desire to drink beer, but a deep yearning to create a great beer that now tugs on my soul. I feel a strong need to do something that I haven't done before. I'm leaning strongly towards an oatmeal espresso stout. To that end, I'll begin designing the recipe this week with plans to brew before Thanksgiving.
This will be the first beer in two years brewed without the collaborative efforts of the Lost Road Farm brew team, as they are now in Sitka dreaming of their own brews.
Having been bred a desert rat, the monsoon season is something that still requires some mental "girding of loins" even though we've been here for over seven years. My desert psyche craves sunshine in the midst of so much gray. On the flip side are two positives. First - the average highs and lows for December (coldest month) are 46 and 34 degrees respectively. I'm not a fan of the cold and the mild winters here are an acceptable trade off for the notable lack of sunshine. In my perfect universe the temperature would never drop below 72 degrees (see mention of my fantasy coffee farm in Kauai in a previous blog). Second positive - green. Most other places I've lived face brown lawns and bare trees by this time of year. Here, my lawn's greenest months are in the winter. This area grows 90% of the world's grass seed, and all that moisture combined with mild temps combine to create green fields of grass wherever you drive.
I rejoice, also, for the moisture the winter months bring to my fledgling orchard. One of the primary goals for the farm is to find an economical way to capture and store all this rain for the dry, thirsty months of July, August, and September. Water tank? Cistern? Pond? All possibilities, but no definite answers as of yet.
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This will be the first beer in two years brewed without the collaborative efforts of the Lost Road Farm brew team, as they are now in Sitka dreaming of their own brews.
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In an earlier blog I stated that I planned to use some of my green tomatoes for a chutney, which I accomplished last week with favorable results. The recipe was further enhanced by the use of apples from our orchard, along with peppers and scallops from the garden and, of course, our own honey. The chutney turned out so well that I am including the recipe here. Keep in mind that the amounts are approximations, as I'm not cooking from one specific recipe and often adjust by frequent tastings along the process. Update to my "Ghost Hive" blog of 10/3
In talking to the experts at October's meeting of the Willamette Beekeeper's Assoc. it appears the sudden disappearance of bees from one of my hives was most likely a case of Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD). Unfortunately, the reasons for CCD are still being researched and debated. One of the most recent theories proposed that a combination of a DNA virus and nosema (a disease that attacks bees digestive tracts) was the culprit. Some claim this study is tainted because its author was paid by a certain company to downplay the role of pesticides in CCD. While the reason for the hives demise received a name, it doesn't answer the question of what really happened. The mystery remains.
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4 cups chopped green tomato
2 cups chopped apples ( my apples were tart)
1 1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
1 cup chopped Anaheim peppers
1 Serrano pepper ( this makes a pretty mild chutney, use more if you like hotter)
1/2 cup chopped onion or scallops
2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 tablespoons ginger (you could use fresh grated ginger)
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp coriander
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp allspice
5 cloves garlic, minced
Combine all ingredients in a pan, bring to boil, reduce heat and simmer for 2 hours stirring frequently. Let it cool. The mixture should be thick with a jam like quality. This yielded about 2 quarts which I put in jars and keep in the refrigerator. Enjoy!
