Monday’s Muses

Haudenosaunee legend of the Three Sisters

Very long ago, there were three sisters who lived in a field. The youngest was so small she could not yet walk; she crawled along the ground, dressed in green. The middle sister wore a bright yellow dress and darted back and forth across the field. The eldest sister stood tall and straight, and her body bent with the wind. She had long yellow hair and wore a green shawl. The three sisters loved one another very much and could not imagine living without the others.

One day a little Indian boy came to the field. He was very handsome and knew the ways of the land. He could talk with the birds and the animals and was straight and fearless. The three sisters were very interested in this boy as they watched him use his stone knife to carve a bowl or hunt with his bow and arrow.

Late in the summer of the boy’s first visit to the field, the youngest of the three sisters disappeared. She was the one who could only creep along the ground; she could not even stand unless there was a stick she could cling to. But she was gone, and the other two sisters mourned her until the fall.

The Indian boy returned to the field to gather reeds that grew at the edge of a small stream. He used the reeds to make arrow shafts. The two remaining sisters again watched him, fascinated. That night, the second sister disappeared, the one who always wandered hither and yon.

Now there was only one sister left, the tall and straight sister. She did not bow her head in sorrow, though she mourned deeply and thought she could not live in the field alone without her sisters. As the days grew shorter and colder, her green shawl began to lose its color and her yellow hair became dry and tangled. Night and day she sighed for her sisters, but her voice was low like the wind, and no one heard her.

One day in the harvest season, the little Indian boy heard the third sister crying, and he felt sorry for her. He took her in his arms and carried her to his home, and there a delightful surprise awaited her: Her sisters were there in the lodge, safe and very glad to be reunited. They explained that they had been curious about the little Indian boy and had followed him home, and they had decided to stay because winter was coming and his home was warm and comfortable.

The sisters also were making themselves useful to the boy and his family. The youngest, now all grown up, kept the dinner pot full, while the second sister, still in her yellow dress, dried herself on the shelf so she could fill the dinner pot later in the winter. The eldest sister was so pleased to be with her sisters again and so impressed with the help they gave the boy that she too began drying herself so the family would have meal to use as the winter went on.

And from that day to this, the three sisters were never separated again.

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Recipe Thursday: Fish Fry

I always tell Josh that when he’s gone (because we took an internet test once and it says I will outlive him by about 10 years after we’re 70, and you know that’s got to be true) that I am going to move down to Mississippi, get a nice Muumuu (ok, who else is excited by all those letter multiples a muumuu in Mississippi?!!! yesssss), drink mint juleps and open up a Fish Fry.

As a kid, catfish was the fish fry fish in my house (yes, we had sauteed whole trout a lot – brook trout, brown trout, rainbow trout – our area was such a great trout habitat eventually Orvis bought half the county for trout farming), but for a good fry – catfish was king. With corn on the cob, potato salad, three-bean salad (does anyone even eat yellow wax beans anymore?), pickles, and someone – there’s always someone – who will bring some jell-o monstrosity (or an old lady sweet salad like Waldorf, Ambrosia, or some strange combination of the three like my Aunt Mayme). Visiting was a thing – there was no specific organization to it, it just sort of happened – but sometimes our house, sometimes Grandpa’s, sometimes the summer people at camp, other family, other friends…on early mornings in the weekend the men would go fishing, come back with lots of catfish.

This is my go-to fish fry recipe, though up here in Maine I tend to use a lot more cod and haddock, but sometimes I’m able to get some catfish…mmmm, catfish.

Fish Fry

Serves 4 with Summer sides

1.5 – 2lbs. firm fleshed fish, skinned and fileted, cut into 2x4ish” chunks
1 cup All-Purpose Flour
2 cups medium to fine NGMO Cornmeal (not too coarse)
2 tsp Sea Salt
2 tsp Garlic Powder
1 tsp Paprika
1 tsp Chili or Cayenne Powder (depending on how spicy you want it)
1 tsp ground Black Pepper
2 cups Buttermilk or Whey (or even just Milk with a Tbsp yogurt mixed in)
Oil for frying, = about 1″ in wide frying pan (cast iron skillet is best)

Heat oil in skillet over Med-High heat (you’ll want the oil to come up about halfway on the fish). Soak cut filets in Buttermilk/Whey/Milk mixture for about 20 min – meanwhile mix dry ingredients together in a wide shallow bowl (or a 9×9 baking dish works well, too, or pie plate). To test oil readiness, dip finger in mix mixture – then dry mixture, drop bit of batter into oil – if it sizzles and rises to top after 1 min, you are ready for frying (if it browns quickly, turn stovetop down to Med, remove pan from heat for a minute or two, try again).

When oil is ready, lay ‘milked’ filets into dry ingredients, cover and press a bit of batter on all sides (you might have to line up a few to make this next bit easier), dip again into milky mixture and re-batter with dry ingredients (it might look like all your first battering goes into the milk but trust me, it doesn’t). Gently put battered fish into frying oil, giving each filet a minute to cook before adding next (keep temperature even). By the time you are done adding filets, it should probably be time to flip the first filet – depending on thickness of filet, should only take 3-5 min. Continue batches as necessary (I generally get 2 batches, cooking 5-6 filets in pan at once).

Serve with tartar sauce (we chop Bread&Butter pickles into Mayo), or spicy Mayo, or Garlic Aioli if you are feeling decadent. These days I prefer German or vinegar based/red Potato Salad with fresh peas and fresh herbs or last week’s Lemon Kale Salad.

Happy Summer Eating!

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Duendesday: New Duende Order

{a day to check in with a 10 yr old’s doings}

It’s officially official – She’s 10! WOWZA! Where did all that time go?! And why couldn’t each phase, each age, just been a little bit longer…she is marvelous and we love to watch her grow but it still has a bit of sadness with it. My little babe is a lovely young peach.

It was a great birthday weekend (she said it was the best she could remember!) – thank you to all who celebrated safely with us. It was so good to see Dave & Pear (we were getting used to seeing them at twice a month or so throughout the year, this was the first we’ve seen them since February!), the girls have such a good time playing together (like country mouse and city mouse) while the ‘adults’ get into animated and enjoyable discussions about history/philosophy/politics, and eat good food – this birthday I made D a big Pink Panther cookie (at least she could see the Pink Panther in it – ha!). And Nana, Uncle Cameron, & Angela came for strawberry cake the next day to blow out the candles and open presents. Duende’s dream came true when Nana got her a couple of little ‘confetti cannons’, too (she loves confetti, I mean, it’s a little crazy – ha!).

As for those presents – she was ridiculously happy to get a disco light that hooks up to her music (matching flashing pulses – ow!), and her own handcrafted hammer for her projekts, and to make sure she’s not using it for rocks we got her a rockhounding kit (bag, book, rock hammer/chisels, jewel loupe, goggles, whistle with compass) and some other goodies.

The big present was a 10gal fish tank – resplendent with castle, glow plants, and then Glofish – however, (and yes we set it up 24 or so hrs in advance) the first batch died within hours. Oh, how my peach cried. So, we got another couple of Tetra skirtfish after ‘more’ advice, adding some beneficial bacteria and they died by bedtime. Then we did more research and found that ‘New Tank Syndrome’ can be a thing, and you can either treat it with an ammonia/nitrite (which are toxic to fish) fixer or you can keep sacrificing fish until the beneficial bacteria overpower the bad. I wish we would have known about the former instead of basically the store’s recommendation to do the latter – it seems like a better solution for children and fish, if you ask me. Though the treatment takes longer, it seems kinder all around – hopefully the next couple of fish in a few weeks make her happy. I should’ve just got her a karaoke machine.

All in all, it was a good birthday. She’s outside making ‘potions’ now, I’m sure soon she’ll come in for a smoothie (we’re all smoothie obsessed in here), and request some family game time…10 it is, so 10 it must be. ❤

Homestead Happenings

We like ‘cracker day’ around here – Josh baking all the different flavors of crackers – Duende and I stealing them as we pass through. It’s always food food food around here – ha! And that’s the running conversation – food as health and medicine, food as politics, food sovereignty, local food, food as a family, preserving food – right now we are simultaneously having a conversation about how amazing the body is to break down the energy stored in your food to use (but only if you chew it and are able to process it – enzymes! prebiotics! probiotics! ooooh, metabolic processes…and versus a 10 yr old who thinks she can just chuck tiny cheese cubes into her mouth and swallow, like cheese vitamins, she used to do it with frozen peas when she was 3 – she decided she needed one a day, every day).

We are getting the fledgling chicks out in a daily playpen right now, too – they are loving it – they love to find a bug and then relay fight for it, they get so excited and animated. Hilarious! The tiny meatbirds are still too little, still cute and fluffy yellow, snuggled up together in the corner of the brooder. Meanwhile the chicken coop is coming along for the former and chicken tractor plans being made for the latter.

The garden is looking pretty nice, I still keep finding seedlings to throw in but the bulk of the planting is done for now. I may consider succession planting the green beans or replacing the peas with haricot vert in the near future (I’ve given up on brassicas/cruciferous – the cabbage moth/caterpillars and aphids really get to me, and my beets failed – or rather, I failed to keep them properly weeded and therefore competition-free) – though I have too many eggplant/gold – green – and cocktail tomato/lemon cucumber/celery/melons/orange bell peppers and still huge amazing summer and winter squashes that are no longer seedlings but full-on fruiting plants and still some companion plants – borage/marigold/johnny jump ups/basil…

Let’s keep crossing our fingers that the oven works another week – please feel free to share our soon to be desperate need and community building projekt for the Rock Bottom Homestead Hearth.

Monday Musings

Lost in the Milky Way

Some of us are like trees that grow with a spiral grain
as if prepared for the path of  the spirit’s journey
to the world of all souls.
It is not an easy path.
A dog stands at the opening constellation
past the great helping hand.
The dog wants to know,
did you ever harm an animal, hurt any creature,
did you take a life you didn’t eat?
This is the first on your map. There is another
my people made of  the great beyond
that lies farther away than this galaxy.
It is a world that can’t be imagined by ordinary means.
After this first one,
the next could be a map of  forever.
It could be a cartography
shining only at some times of  the year
like a great web of finery
some spider pulled from herself
to help you recall your true following
your first white breath in the cold.
The next door opens and Old Woman
counts your scars. She is interested in how you have been
hurt and not in anything akin to sin.
From between stars are the words we now refuse;
loneliness, longing, whatever suffering
might follow your life into the sky.
Once those are gone, the life you had
against your own will, the hope, even the prayers
take you one more bend around the river of sky.
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Recipe Thursday: Lemon Kale Salad

I joined a book club a few years ago. I knew better but I dream about compatriots that share the same sort of ideas I do and want to get together and talk about them. I was uncertain about this group – though they were all very nice and funny and smart, we were just very different. They had a way about them that I will never have, I can’t really articulate what way that is, I just know I don’t and won’t have it. Their ideas came from Atlantic Monthly and likely The New Yorker, mine come from anywhere and everywhere – the weirder the better. I stayed for about 4.5 books and then we parted ways. But up until our realization that we were not a good match, we drank some wine, ate some foodstuffs, and vaguely talked about the books we read.

I didn’t get any really good new authors out of our brief relation but I did get this salad. It’s so good. It’s crazy good. My child loves it, I love it – everyone who has tried it, loves it. It’s addictive – there is something about the massaging/salting/garlic & lemon process that makes it impossible to stop eating. In fact, if I ate this salad as often as I want to, I’d probably fit in an airplane seat better (not that I’m going on an airplane any time soon). It’s smashing – and holds up really well, even until the next day.

Lemon Kale Salad

Serves 4-6 as a side, unless you can’t stop eating it yourself

2 bunches Curly or Red Russian Kale (stems removed, ripped into bite-size pieces, rinsed)
a shake or two of Coarse Sea Salt
drizzle or two of Olive Oil
1 Tbsp minced Garlic (or more to taste)
2-4 Tbsp Lemon Juice (or 2 Lemons, to taste)
1 little tub (8oz) of Ciliegine Mozzarella Balls (halved, saving a little juice from tub)
2 cups (or 8oz) of Cherry Tomatoes (halved)

Optional (to make it extra sexy, though it doesn’t need it):
1 cup Kalamata Olives (pitted and halved)
1/4 cup toasted, sliced Almonds

The secret is really in the process: massage your rinsed/ripped leaves with a shake of Coarse Sea Salt and a drizzle of Olive Oil until you feel the leaves start to break down a bit (sometimes a little liquid is in the bottom of the bowl when you are done) – you don’t want them mushy but you want to feel them give (about 5 minutes of good rubbing).

Add all the other ingredients, stir, and taste for seasoning – feel free to add more lemon, garlic, salt to the bowl as necessary.

I think we’re going to put some Salmon steaks on the grill and eat this tonight! Enjoy!

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Tuesday To Happen

Oh, it is a lovely place to be these days – at Rock Bottom Homestead – and all the good things start to outweigh the bad (I’m convinced it’s in the New England water – the memory wiping of the Winter woes and the extra powerful elixir of the Summer loveliness). The butterflies are here (the Yellow Swallowtails arriving with the late Lilacs, Painted Ladies with the ‘Foils – Bird’s Foot Trefoil & Cinquefoil, and Monarch caterpillars on the Milkweed) – the Junebugs are here, the Lightning bugs are here, the Dragonflies have been here for a bit with the Hummingbird Moths – all lovely and amazing bugs to maybe make you forget about the bad bugs for a minute (Black/Deer Fly, mosquitos, ticks – just for a minute).

The Bee Balm is shooting straight up into the air like red fireworks this year, spreading like wildfire – soon the Ruby-Throated Hummingbirds will come and make their nest in the Willow tree above them. I hear Nuthatch, Catbirds, and Doves frequently, the Song Sparrow and Phoebe have already laid eggs and their chicks are off – and I just heard the crazy cry of the Pileated Woodpecker out back. The clover is growing at top speed – I’m foraging red, white, and pink for tea along with my bursting chamomile, a few random lovely mullein (the primrose has the year off), and awaiting the calendula. I should get out there and get some young raspberry leaves before they fruit. The drying racks are filling up with good stuffs.

And the shelves are filling, too! With whatever the Farmers Market is brimming with (and may I say, the FM here at Augusta is doing a great job at making it easy and safe to shop and support local living, I hear Portland is really good, too – please take advantage of all the hard work the farmers and purveyors are doing to get real food to you! I have to say, I think this shift has been good for my engineering our foodstuffs – I may never have to go to a big store again). This last week, basil, strawberries, cherry tomatoes, beets, scallions, rhubarb, and cukes are readily available. We made pesto pizza (with homemade ricotta and Maine Mushroom Co mushrooms), strawberry cake, pickles – all kinds of goodies!

Please don’t forget to check out and share (unfortunately for this endeavor we are not on social media, but if you are – feel free to pass us on!) our Community Hearth project – we think it’s a great step towards building new connections to our food systems and our peoples! The Queen of Scapes thanks you so much (as do we all)!

Monday’s Muse

During the blaze of noon, between two sumptuous thunderstorms, the mud of Russian roads serves as a drinking establishment for the male Blues, but not every damp spot is suitable; the intensity of visitation is determined by a certain average saturation of the soil as well as the greater evenness of its surface. On an attractive spot like this, with a round, runny border and a relatively limited diameter (rarely exceeding two feet), a group of butterflies settles at close quarters; if one startles the gathering, it rises en masse and remains suspended in a “sorting” hover over the given spot on the road, descending to it anew with mathematical precision….
Only the air cooling toward evening, or the arrival of clouds, puts an end to the banquet. I have had occasion to observe the presence of one and the same specimen of Meleager’s Blue sitting from eleven in the morning until a quarter to six in the evening, when the long shadow of a nearby oak had reached the very spot where, besides my friend and a few other engrossed Blues and a handful of golden adonis, there remained (from three in the afternoon) a small cluster of boyarishnitsa (Black-veined Whites), whose general appearance was reminiscent either of little paper cockerels or a regatta of sailboats heeling this way and that. In all those hours the composition and size of the gathering would vary and more than once I inadvertently shooed away my Meleager while fishing out some trifle I needed from the general heap.
Now, with the onset of shade, it would soar with elastic grace and, having chosen a bough to perch on — a choice not at all typical for Lycaena in a normal state, but quite characteristic as a temporizing maneuver for a butterfly that has left a “drinking place” — would settle on a Rubus leaf, as if hoping that the dusk and the chill were but the passing influence of a cloud and that, in a moment, one could return. In a few minutes I noticed that it had dozed off; with that, the observation ended.
~ Vladimir Nabokov