October 2008 – Into the Woods

Wednesday: Sauerkraut-making day

After Monday’s cabbage-buying expedition to the Virginia mountains, Wednesday was sauerkraut-making day. To make sauerkraut, you need:

1. Cabbage. I bought cabbage in 50-pound sacks close to the farm in Carroll County, Virginia.

2. Sea salt. I used refined sea salt bought in bulk at Whole Foods. I would have preferred to use a really premium salt like Celtic sea salt. Any good salt will work, though, as long as it’s not iodized.

3. Something to slice the cabbage with. We used a wooden box slicer made in Eastern Europe that I bought at an on-line store. This slicer is pretty efficient, and it slices the cabbage nice and uniformly thin, which is essential for good sauerkraut.

4. A crock to ferment the sauerkraut in. I used Harsch No. 15 crocks. These crocks are made in Germany especially for fermenting vegetables. They’re not cheap.

5. A friend to help with all the work. A friend from California is visiting this week. We made 30 pounds of sauerkraut in about 3.5 hours. Hard work, but not that bad.

About kraut recipes and the amount of salt: The U.S. Department of Agriculture recommends way too much salt in homemade sauerkraut. According to the article about sauerkraut at Wikipedia, this is because, if the fermentation temperature is too high, the wrong kind of bacteria will grow. Most sauerkraut recipes on the web call for 6 tablespoons of salt for 10 pounds of cabbage. The recipe that comes with the Harsch crocks calls for 5 to 8 grams of salt for 1 kilogram of cabbage, far less than the USDA number. After much deliberation, I decided to use 2.5 tablespoons of salt for 10 pounds of cabbage, in the range recommended by Harsch. I believe this is a ratio of about .008, in the low end of the acceptable ratios given by Wikipedia — .006 to .020. If you use a larger amount of salt in the sauerkraut, the kraut is too salty to eat and must be washed before eating. That washes away the nutrients — bad idea.

Why canned sauerkraut isn’t as good for you: There are some good brands of sauerkraut on the market in glass jars. But if you put the sauerkraut in jars, you have to heat it, killing off the beneficial bacteria and enzymes. To get the full health benefits of sauerkraut, it must be eaten from the crock, unheated and unwashed. In other words, you have to make your own sauerkraut.

Washing the cabbage

Some of the sauerkraut-making apparatus

Slicing the cabbage

The crock filled with salted cabbage

The cabbage with the weights on top. These weights come with the Harsch crocks. They hold the cabbage down so that it stays covered with brine.

The crocks all filled and ready to start fermenting. These crocks are in the cellar of my new house.

Monday: Cabbage-buying expedition

Wednesday was to be sauerkraut-making day, so Monday’s chore was to go to the mountains and get the cabbage. In Carroll County and Patrick County, Virginia, cabbage is a major crop. That’s about 45 miles from my place in Stokes County, N.C. This time of year the quality of the cabbage is high, and the price is low. At farmside stands, it was selling for $8 for a 50-pound sack. At roadside produce stands, it was selling for $10 for a 50-pound sack. I bought two sacks of cabbage.

The trip to cabbage country goes right past Mabry Mill on the Blue Ridge Parkway.

The water trace

An old wagon, part of the Mabry Mill museum of old mountain technology

A small whiskey still, also part of Mabry Mill’s museum

All four sides, in the morning light

Well, y’all, here are the final exterior shots, the morning after completion. The crew have removed all their equipment, and the litter piles have been cleaned up. The house is now surrounded by a band of packed red dirt. Next steps: the final grading and starting on the up-close landscaping. With luck I’ll at least have a bit of grass and some daffodils around the house come spring. This construction project was incredibly smooth. I fretted more than necessary about the formalities of inspections, and the mud and the mess, but I don’t think I ever lost a minute’s sleep during the whole project. The contractors and their crew did an outstanding job. If anyone in this area is looking for a contractor, please email me and I’ll put you in touch with them. I’d recommend them very highly.

Because of tricks of the surrounding terrain, the house can pretend to be lost in the woods, though it’s really not. The house faces what I’d call a dell, with a high ridge on the horizon about a quarter of a mile away. To use an old-fashioned technical term, I believe this place is a croft. In these photos, the sun has just cleared the southeastern ridge, and the first morning light is falling on the house (about 8:15 a.m. this time of year). Unfortunately my camera is too automatic to take a night shot. I’d never get the exposure right. But the house, seen at night from up close, with the stars behind it, has a completely different mood. It looms tall and mysterious and ominous, and it looks like a set for a scary movie for teen-agers.

The back and the uphill side.

The back and the downhill side. This photo was taken yesterday evening when the sun was low in the west.

The exterior's done!

They finished the exterior today. The house is now weathertight. The house is more photogenic in morning light, so I’ll have more photos and more angles Wednesday morning.

A sneak preview

The exterior of the house is almost done. I haven’t put up any photos lately because I thought I’d wait until the exterior is done. Here’s a little preview, though. This is the uphill side of the house. I should have the final exterior photos Friday or Saturday, or, if it’s raining, I’ll have the photos Sunday. To get the light right, the photos need to be taken around 8:15 a.m. as the sun is coming up.

Update, Sunday, Oct. 19: Rain slowed things down a bit. I’ll have updates as soon as possible this week.

When the Frost is on the Punkin

My corn yield this year: exactly one ear.

What maple trees do in the fall.

I’ve never really forgotten this poem after we all were required to memorize it in the fifth grade.

When the Frost is on the Punkin

WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,
And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,
And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it’s then the time a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,
With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;
But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;
And your cider-makin’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!…
I don’t know how to tell it—but ef such a thing could be
As the angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me—
I’d want to ‘commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.

— James Whitcomb Riley, 1853-1916

Wikipedia

Technology traps

James Burke with a relay like the one that caused the Northeast Blackout of 1965

We all live in a technology trap.

One of the best documentaries I’ve ever seen, back in the 1980s, was James Burke‘s Connections series. In one part of this series, he takes as his case study the Northeast Blackout of 1965 to show how we all live in a technology trap and how we’re all in denial about it. I’ve often thought about, and made reference to, this series over the years. I recently discovered that you can watch it on YouTube.

As you watch this documentary, keep in mind that the power grid today remains old and balkanized. And the power grid is just one of the technology traps that we depend on every day.

Everyone is nervous these days about the state of the economy. Obviously there’s not much we can do. But it’s good for one’s mental health to do something. One thing we can do is take a little time to look around us at our technology traps and think about where we can easily and cheaply provide ourselves some backup.

Economic honor roll

Nouriel Roubini, top of the honor roll

Some of you may have noticed that I have deleted all my old posts about the economy and the politics thereof. My intent was to draw attention to an inevitable train wreck that independent observers could see clearly months and years in advance, but which partisan sources (and the mainstream media) denied or ignored. No one denies it now, so I am backing off on this subject. I have little to add, except maybe about the importance of making ready, according to your own individual circumstances, to get through the hard times ahead. Now is the time for getting to know our neighbors, and cooperating with them, rather than arguing with them.

If you’re interested in independent, nonpartisan sources of information on the economy, check out this article. My primary source of economic analysis for the last two years has been Nouriel Roubini. Roubini used to be scorned as ridiculously pessimistic. Now the media are all over him, because he foresaw it all and explained it in tedious, academic detail.

This raises the question, how can you tell when someone is doing their best to tell you the truth vs. when someone is telling you what they want you to believe? I’m afraid that’s a trick question. We’re all on our own.

In goes the Gothic window…

Standing in the hall and looking out the back door, across the deck, and into the woods. This actually is a shotgun house. That’s what Southerners call a house when you can shoot a shotgun through the front door straight out the back door.

The Gothic window array from the upstairs master bedroom

The trapezoidal windows in the upper living room, seen from the upstairs master bedroom. The trapezoidal windows had to be custom made.

Standing in the radio room (which is a balcony) and looking down into the living room

Interior framing detail on the Gothic window array

The Gothic window array, from the living room

From the front

I scattered a few packets of flower seeds this spring and made no attempt to cultivate them. Only the cosmos thrived.

This late watermelon is still growing.

Pickin' at Priddy's, Oct. 4

Every Saturday in October, Priddy’s General Store near Danbury has “Pickin’ at Priddy’s.” There’s a bluegrass band, and there’s always something homemade in a black pot. Dogs welcome. It runs from 3 p.m. until 5:30 p.m. Priddy’s General Store is three miles from my place.

Today’s band was The Plank Road. Oct. 11, Hubert Lawson & the Country Bluegrass Boys. Oct. 18, Henry Mabe and Friends. Oct. 25, Blues Creek. Nov. 1, The Jug Busters.