Getting figgy with it.

Recently, a dear friend of mine (after eating about 75 figs all to himself mind you) shared with me the location of a neighborhood fig tree, heavily laden and cascading over the public sidewalk.   After knocking on the door to inform the residents of the house, we began to fill our basket with the  most perfectly delectable figs.  I had visions of  fig sauce on pork chops in mid-winter and immediately began pouring over the Complete Book of Home Preserving, where I was happy to find an easy fig preserve recipe and great information about canning in general.

My basket held about 30 figs and I added these to 8 cups of boiling water.  I turned the heat off, covered the pot and left the figs to sit for about 15 minutes.

In a different pot, I combined 2 Cups of sugar and one sliced lemon and boiled them over high heat with 4 cups of water to dissolve the sugar.

I removed the lemon slices and added 2 cups of figs at a time to the pot. I boiled them in the syrup until the skins became brown and transparent.  I set these ones aside and added more green figs until they were all brown and the syrup was thick and dark.  I combined the figs and syrup and left it to cool overnight.

The next morning I decided to chop up the figs before reheating them.

 I brought the figs and syrup back to a boil and prepared my jars and lids.  I filled my hot jars, making sure to leave 1/4" headspace and processed the jars in a boiling water canner for 10 minutes.

And here's the new addition to my winter stash.  I made four half pint jars of Fig Preserves.  That should last me until my dear friend tips me off to the location of another heavily laden and ambiguously owned fig tree.

Acknowledgments

"I thank the animal tenders and beekeepers, and the  ones with courage to slaughter.  I thank the bakers, brewers, cheesemakers, miso makers, and sauerkraut makers.  I thank the urban gardeners and the forest homesteaders.  I thank the seed savers and skill sharers.  I thank the dumpster divers, gleaners, and foragers.  I thank the co-ops, farmers' markets, and CSA farms.  I thank the crusaders, protestors, and watchdogs.  I thank the cooks, chefs, and kitchen magicians everywhere who find creative expression in keeping people well fed.  I also thank the dishwashers and those who do the grimy tasks that keep kitchens safe and clean. "  
The Revolution Will Not Be Microwaved  
Sandor Ellix Katz

Red wigs on bikes

Late last week my dear friend Der Lovett invited me to join him and a bunch of folks on a bike ride.  The bike ride being a fundraiser for his friends Amie and Harper and an act of love and support that brought me to my knees and has stayed with me in my thoughts.

Recently after being blessed with a new baby into their lives,  Harper was diagnosed with ALS or Lou Gehrig's disease.  ALS is a disease that hits people between the ages of 40-70, in which the person slowly looses muscle movement and control, leading to inevitable paralysis.  Meanwhile the mind is left completely unaffected.  The bike ride was organized to raise money to help support Amie and Harper, as time progresses and the family's challenges become greater.  The idea was that each person would donate $10.00 and join in this long meandering bike ride around NE Portland.. oh yeah.. and everyone wore RED wigs.  Lovett Deconstruction matched our "teams" donations to make a pretty substantial overall donation. The organizers were expecting about 300 people to show up and it was such a beautiful sight to see.  Amie, Harper, and their little baby joined us on the ride via pedicab.

I was deeply moved by being a part of this bike ride.  It was an incredibly creative and deeply heartfelt act by a community of friends and supporters.  It reminded me that by gathering together in large numbers we could raise a lot of money and provide  a tangible show of love.  There was a sweetness in the air, though I knew the seriousness of Amie and Harper's future, I also felt comforted by this simple act of human helping human.  It was humbling to realize that all  of us are always just a step away from loosing a loved one.  How precious all this is.....all the more reason to don a red wig and celebrate one radiant evening together.

Two ways....

"There are only two ways to live your life.  One is as though nothing is a miracle.  The other is as if everything is."  Albert Einstein

Sunday afternoon

Sunday afternoon came around, and it was time for the "dog'gone dogooders" to head downtown to the weekly Potluck in the Park. This is a completely volunteer run event that just celebrated its 18th year of service.  Every Sunday afternoon, rain or shine, a free meal is available to anyone, and we are talking a nutritious and bountiful hot meal.  Various salads, casseroles, yogurt, breads and fresh fruit are just some of the choices available to the almost 400 folks that come by.

We showed up early to sign in and orient ourselves.  There were a lot of volunteers helping out and that isn't counting all the folks who had been gathering food donations all week long and cooking the food on Sunday morning.  There was a tourist couple from NYC who registered as volunteers through Hands on Portland, with the intention of participating in the place they were visiting.  Brilliant!! Once again, I was really impressed by the number of kids that were volunteering that day.  My own world as a young person was so self indulgent, I can't begin to imagine the effect it would have had on me to offer my time in support of another human being.

Once I started serving food, it was a whirlwind of activity peppered with moments that made me laugh and moments that slammed into my face the reality of poverty and homelessness in this country.  It is only recently that I am beginning to experience relationship with another person across class lines.  I am realizing that I have come to rely too heavily on my assumptions of another person based on how they look, making me lazy and likely to dismiss.  Assumptions have stunted the curiosity that leads me to want to hear another person's story.  It feels like a tool I misused and neglected.  I've also become aware of how much censoring takes place in the formalities of my day to day life.  Time spent around people experiencing homelessness has been filled with personal questions, outbursts of anger, exclamations of joy, contained quiet, random acts and a huge spectrum of personal space boundaries.  Its dynamic, it feels like vibrant complicated life.

Rooted

Keeping up

As I sit here, a big pot of heirloom tomaters from the garden is bubbling away on the stove. Another round of canning tomato sauce for the winter is underway. It almost, and I emphasize almost, makes me sentimental for the coziness and the hearty meal of a dark winter evening.


This is our first season preserving the bounty, and I am humbled by the amount of time and labor that needs to be invested. But oh...what an investment in riches it is! We have canned cucumber bread and butter pickles, cucumber relish, jalapeno peppers, pickled beets, and tomato sauce. We have been racing to turn our basil jungle into tidy little pockets of frozen pesto. We have frozen grated zucchini for many future zucchini breads (chocolate chips to be added upon baking). All those mighty little seeds we started so many months ago have turned into plants, thriving and ripening and eager to feed us. It fills me with a deep sense of contentment to acknowledge the riches I have now and to set them aside, to tuck them away for later. Jars that are to be opened in the depth of winter, to nourish a gathering of friends and family.