tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-37229937457291149192024-03-12T18:33:06.173-07:00A Garden YearKenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-79592295890201580052013-01-25T14:11:00.005-08:002013-01-25T16:28:33.488-08:00Gardens and Life: who can tell the difference?<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Hi all,</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Thanks for supporting the school garden. I'm doing all my blogging now at my <a href="http://www.milliontinythings.com/blog/" target="_blank">Million Tiny Things blog</a>: gardening, life, and everything in between. I'd love you to subscribe there and keep up with our ongoing garden antics. Feel free to scroll through these archives!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;">Kenna </span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-89778245510499866802012-05-10T12:19:00.000-07:002012-05-19T12:48:01.690-07:00Growing up<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
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</style> First, admire our fabulous new bean teepee, then read about
our day…</div>
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It’s getting warmer, with that energizing spring heat, and
we are all glad to be back out in the garden after the last week of
standardized tests. For the
morning, we must all band together to get those tomatoes into the ground! They are getting spindly-tall in those
little pots. We review how to
pinch off the lower leaves and plant the plants deep enough to give the
too-long stems a strong foundation.
Sometimes the kids feel like this these days: they’ve all grown a few
inches when I wasn’t looking. A
few weeks of neglect: vacation, testing, a sick day, and suddenly they no
longer fit in the little plastic boxes of my preconceptions.</div>
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I’m somehow assigned to the pair of girls who usually get
under my thin, non-teacher skin within the first few minutes of class. They are strong, bright, willful girls,
with a lot to say (and no sense of when it’s someone else’s turn to say
something). They are also
self-involved to the point of not seeing the full range of hurtful behaviors
they can so easily turn on the less vocal, less opinionated members of the
class. And so, in my role as
enforcer of the general peace when T is trying to get us through some
curricular hurdle, I often have to pull them aside for “reminders,” which they
usually interpret as unfounded attacks on their unblemished characters. Which means, in blunt, that they don’t
like me so much. And if I’m honest
and lay aside my “teacher” hat, I have to admit it’s mutual. </div>
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Fortunately, I did remember to wear that “open heart, open
mind” teacher hat today, even though it sometimes chafes my temples. So when T sends the three of us off to
plant our tomatoes, I leave my hopeless sense of “boy, won’t this just be <i>so
fun</i><span style="font-style: normal;">… not” in the greenhouse. Off we go to our assigned garden bed,
with the seemingly simple task of planting two whole tomato plants. We’ve got our work cut out for us. When we get there, we find a whole
clutch of broccoli plants on the verge of going to seed. Wild Child #1 turns around, and seeing
no adult more likely than myself nearby to give the answer she wants, warily
focuses the full force of her long-lashed eyes and wheedling voice on my
person: “can we eat some, please please?”</span></div>
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“Sure, as much as you want,” I shrug. She needn’t have tried so hard. I generally encourage grazing, and we
just have to pull these plants anyhow if we want to have room for the
tomatoes. The next several minutes
pass with the girls enthusiastically chomping broccoli and chard, and pulling
up the broccoli plants by the roots.
This proves to be so much fun that they keep wanting to pull more and
more, going way beyond our assigned area, rather than settling down to the job
of getting the tomatoes on the ground.
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As I expected, the whining sets in, just about when I call
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“It’s soooo hot.” </div>
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“Yep, so the sooner we get these plants in the sooner we can
get out of the sun.” I’m masking
my sweat-induced irritation by cleaning up around the edges of the bed they are
theoretically supposed to be “working” in.</div>
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Whine, dig, complain, lose focus, work even slower. WC#2: “It’s REALLY hot. Can I get a drink of water?”</div>
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“Sure, as soon as we get the plants in and watered, we’ll
take a water break.” (After all,
it’s only two plants—if I were doing it myself it would take about 30
seconds. Not that I’m feeling a
wee bit impatient or anything.)</div>
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“But, but, but..”</div>
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“Let’s just get it done, guys.” I’m such a mean hard-ass; I can see it in their set jaws and
hear in their whispers.</div>
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Whine, dig, complain, lose focus… but eventually, with many
deep theatrical sighs, the tomatoes get into the ground. Once that’s done, there’s no more
asking for water, as the girls have caught sight of the big pile I’ve made of
the broccoli plants they pulled and left helter-skelter all over the path. “Can we do something with that?”</div>
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Hmm, that’s not what we’re supposed to be doing, really—we
should clean up the beds more--but I’m sick of nagging them. “Sure, let’s head down and wash it and
trim off the edible bits—we can add them to the salad.” So we all three head into the shade of the
kitchen work area. </div>
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The three of us, out of the sun and now with no assignment
requiring timely completion, somehow all simultaneously decide to drop our
annoyance with each other. These
girls, the ones who usually make me close my eyes and breathe slowly before I
speak, are just chatting with me, politely. And I with them.
We fill a big colander with trimmed-off bit of broccoli (yes of course
the stems were woody, but we didn’t care), washed it, mixed it with salad
greens and dressed the whole thing with leftover mango dressing from the Mayday
picnic.</div>
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Our salad was beautiful (tough stems and all) and delicious
(if you spit out the stems) and more than that, we had fun doing it. All three of us. Together. The wild girls are getting taller, and more mature,
and if their stalks are to have the proper support, I’ve got to let them out of
the little boxes I’ve been keeping them in, and shore them up with some good
soil, and watch them set their own roots.
We’ve all got our jobs cut out for us here in the garden; just sometimes
I’m looking too closely at the task at hand to see the bigger work. (Thank goodness for the strong-willed
girls who can push at my edges.)</div>
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</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">The
final touch for today’s menu: donated bread thawed out in the solar oven!</span><br />
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</span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-82808162706192217302012-05-03T12:34:00.000-07:002012-05-16T12:35:05.293-07:00Insert your critique of standardized testing here(Kids in the classroom filling out circles instead of in the garden. Chewing gum instead of fresh veggies. Wrong wrong wrong if you ask me. Which no one did.)Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-8972565687146729062012-04-06T16:25:00.000-07:002012-06-09T16:26:50.761-07:00Make way<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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</style>The kids have been clearing the beds by their classroom like
mad to make way for all the new starts.
Pulling up old plants with gusto, barely remembering to save a few for
seeds, mostly just pulling pulling pulling—uprooting toppling fava bean plants
everywhere to make way for MORE KALE!
(Plus a few zucchini, but really, those just get out of control with not
enough people on campus in the summer to prevent them from becoming
not-so-tasty behemoth vegetables.)
The kale will grow fast in the heat and we’ll be eating it before we
leave for summer break.</div>
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In the pollinator-friendly perennial bed behind us, the tiny
plants these exact same kids planted last year in their little handmade gopher
baskets are naturalizing, spreading out tall and wide and tossing masses of
blossoms toward the bees. Their
mosaic tile border bricks, carefully molded in milk cartons by thoughtful second
graders, are now taken for granted, overgrown as they are by the sprawling
flowers. The kids don’t look back,
don’t think about how they dug in the manure, loosened the packed ground. Do not notice how their months of work
last year have turned this bare dirt patch into a lush habitat. </div>
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Now they are simply bent on uprooting. It’s so easy, and strangely satisfying
to see how on this side of the path, so little effort is required to turn a
dense vegetable garden into a naked one.
“Make way for the new!” they declare, fistful after fistful, no regret
or remorse troubling their brows.
They are so ready to leave behind the things they are done with. Me, not so much. I cling to their childishness, begging
for just a few more tastes of the sweetness of their lingering innocence,
hoping some grace we planted there can survive. As they clearcut, I “supervise” by staying nearby, coaxing
weeds out from the understory of the pollinator bed. </div>
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To me, the two sides of this path reveal the two aspects of
their changing nine-year-old natures.
On one side I can see the maturing of what has been planted so far in
various selves: the mastery of piano books, the ability to get lost in
full-fledged novels, the sophistication of real humor, the moves upward in
levels of ballet, tae kwon do, baseball, carpentry. And on the other, their stubborn retention of their ability
to uproot one thing and try on something else completely new. </div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Even
as they hone their chosen skills, they keep their identities unfixed; they
still have so many possible selves to try on, take back off, and decide to keep
or toss to Goodwill. Whereas I’m
hopeless at clearing beds, getting stuck in the nostalgia of the beautiful fava
plants, thinking “If we just wait, these will bear such delicious beans.” So, I’ll stay here in my perennial bed,
nurturing the flowering plants, while these kids have more important work to do,
growing. And the yummy kale chips
next month will be thanks to them.</span></div>
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this week: Spring Rolls!</div>
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Buy: brown rice spring roll wrappers</div>
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For the dipping sauce, mix to taste the following:</div>
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Garlic, pressed after the kids complain that chopping is
silly and make you go find the press</div>
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Ginger, minced</div>
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Tamari</div>
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Mint leaves, chopped, whatever kind the kids want from the
garden</div>
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Grate (after the kids complain that chopping is silly and
make you go find the grater—apparently this was a lesson if using the right
tool for the job, garden helper):</div>
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Beets</div>
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Carrots</div>
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Chop:</div>
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Beet greens</div>
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Rainbow chard</div>
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Mix the veggies with hoisin sauce and wrap in wrappers
according to instructions. Serve with
sauce. Voila!</div>
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<br /></div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-7815357757088242282012-03-31T12:21:00.000-07:002012-04-03T12:24:27.407-07:00Finish to Start<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Having recently attended a training in which she was convinced that kids have too much constraint in their lives (really?? <i>these</i> kids??), T persists in allowing the kids to choose their own activities (from a short list provided by her). This tactic creates a great deal of chaos at the start of class, but the end result, at least in theory, is that you get a group of kids who are really excited about whatever activity they are doing. Hmmm. The kids are jumping all around the garden trying to change groups, recruit their friends to their preferred activities, and generally postpone the start of class. And they are very loud. It makes me a little crazy.</div>
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This system of self-assignment frontloads the frustration factor. But then we all really do have fun, and the kids stay on task. I'm starting to buy in, and wondering how I could apply this principle to other aspects of my life. So when my youngest suggests that she should trade her current lightweight chore of feeding the cats in exchange for "washing the windows, scrubbing the walls, and sweeping," I, against my initial instinct, agree. You've never seen such energetic sweeping (even if you <i>have</i> seen a much cleaner floor). And the windows really are a little more transparent.</div>
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Back in garden class, my morning group made pumpkin muffins (recipe below) with great enthusiasm. And bringing things full circle, two afternoon kids chose to plant pumpkin seeds (check out the gorgeous heirloom pumpkin from which we saved aforementioned seeds last fall). So by the end of the day, we had proud cooks, full bellies, and several flats of pumpkin starts in the greenhouse. Seems that the system works after all. Trading a little crazy for a lot of good work. Not a bad plan for a garden, or a class or third graders, which really, if you think about it, needs both to thrive.</div>
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Pumpkin Muffins for the People (makes 30 good-size gluten-free muffins)</div>
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Beat 4 eggs.</div>
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Stir in 1 cup maple syrup and 4 tsp vanilla.</div>
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Then add:</div>
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5 cups Pamela's® gluten-free baking mix,</div>
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2 big scoops of cooked pumpkin (about 2 cups or more--ours was cooked in the fall and frozen until now),</div>
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and several shakes of whatever spices smell good to the kids (ours picked cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg).</div>
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Mix and transfer to well-greased muffin tins (fill each about 2/3 full).</div>
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Bake at 350º for 20 minutes or so.</div>
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In the afternoon, we made wheat flour muffins from a recipe we found lying around (which as usual we altered beyond recognition). They were lighter but not as sweet (since the morning group had used more than our share of the maple syrup, ooops), so the kids liked the gluten-free version better.</div>
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<br /></div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-38687602191916432302012-03-22T12:23:00.000-07:002012-04-03T12:23:44.393-07:00Missed out<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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</style>As much as I might have preferred to be in the garden, I was
trapped in mandatory computer training all day at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here’s how much info I could extract
from my 3<sup>rd</sup> grader.</div>
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Mom: How was gardening?</div>
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Kid: Fun.</div>
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Mom: What did you do?</div>
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Kid: (Shrug.)</div>
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Mom: What did you cook?</div>
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Kid: I don’t know. Oh, stir-fry.</div>
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Mom: With…</div>
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Kid: Greens.</div>
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Mom: Was it good?</div>
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Kid: Yep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can I
go play now?</div>
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Mom: (Shrug.)</div>
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</span><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">An
adult who was present reports they made quinoa with all the remaining kale they
could forage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that it was, in
fact, good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-58775807510221053402012-03-16T19:58:00.002-07:002012-03-16T19:58:21.992-07:00The Three “S”es<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Irc1AM6BGY/T2P7thZilHI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/VFnctkBg_eU/s1600/p_00201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8Irc1AM6BGY/T2P7thZilHI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/VFnctkBg_eU/s400/p_00201.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Kind of like the three R’s (you know, Reduce, Reuse,
Recycle), but wetter. Our
follow-up to our first hands-on rainy-day watershed lesson is our ever-popular
boots-on rainy-day watershed lesson.
How do you help the rainwater replenish the aquifer and not all just
escape to the sea?
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FaFtjVtBW20/T2P7sr7ZBrI/AAAAAAAAAXA/q1zcB9o7PcA/s1600/p_00199.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FaFtjVtBW20/T2P7sr7ZBrI/AAAAAAAAAXA/q1zcB9o7PcA/s320/p_00199.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kBmkRXRYYBQ/T2P7vagqHkI/AAAAAAAAAXo/mVMzMX4Tmrg/s1600/p_00216.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kBmkRXRYYBQ/T2P7vagqHkI/AAAAAAAAAXo/mVMzMX4Tmrg/s320/p_00216.jpg" width="219" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">First, we follow the water. All over the campus, down drains and through pipes and
across the field, down through the garden.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EB4P-pYiCWY/T2P7ucY0CWI/AAAAAAAAAXc/24GrHJtUBik/s1600/p_00212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EB4P-pYiCWY/T2P7ucY0CWI/AAAAAAAAAXc/24GrHJtUBik/s400/p_00212.jpg" width="400" /></a>And way out back, T has created two waterflows, one straight
and direct and FAST, the other using the Slow it, Spread it, Sink it
lesson.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>S times 3.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we see which one would allow the
salmon to spawn safely.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Then
the kids use their shovels, hands and wits to turn the fast-flow into a slower
one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And maybe they don’t always
recall what the three “S”es are, but their bodies know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m always trying to explain to my own
kids why they should not waste water, but I never find a way that they can hear
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But out here in the muck, I
hear the kids explaining it <i>to each other</i>. Somehow the process of
slowing the water allows concepts like “aquifer” and “wildlife habitat
preservation” to spread out and sink in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Or maybe it just helps to have muddy boots.</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SroI7DQp_Lw/T2P7w48PFQI/AAAAAAAAAYA/8QNuFQJMCa4/s1600/p_00221.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SroI7DQp_Lw/T2P7w48PFQI/AAAAAAAAAYA/8QNuFQJMCa4/s320/p_00221.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-53hICRdfnKM/T2P7wE6droI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Beq_qYwTabQ/s1600/p_00217.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-53hICRdfnKM/T2P7wE6droI/AAAAAAAAAXw/Beq_qYwTabQ/s320/p_00217.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">No recipe, unless you count mud pies. Which, in my opinion, have a quite high nutritional content. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-71209122736426206832012-03-08T15:15:00.000-08:002012-03-15T15:15:52.123-07:00Recipe to come<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Well, we had stomach flu at our house, so I wasn't at garden class this week. But apparently they made yummy greens and potatoes, and I'll try to get the recipe as soon as I can...</div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-82886179292684226532012-03-01T19:25:00.000-08:002012-03-16T19:26:23.806-07:00Rain, Rain, Come and Stay<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Neither rain nor sleet nor snow… okay, well, we don’t really have those last two around
here. But we certainly aren’t
letting a little rain stop us from having garden class this week. Especially since we’ve had so little
rain this year, so all of our “rainy day” curricula are languishing in the
filing cabinet. Hurrah for the
rain!
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lBtbMlJ2Log/T2P1py8oVzI/AAAAAAAAAWo/gO6uHdp5xCM/s1600/p_00188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lBtbMlJ2Log/T2P1py8oVzI/AAAAAAAAAWo/gO6uHdp5xCM/s200/p_00188.jpg" width="157" /></a> </div>
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Number one on our rain list: watersheds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grew up near a creek, the flow of
water toward which was so easy to see in the acres of open farmland.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I didn’t know the word watershed and
didn’t really need to, having an intuitive understanding of the process of
water flowing toward the sea.</div>
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But these kids mostly live where there are lots of houses,
and it’s not always clear where the water in the drainage ditch beside the
driveway is heading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To the
neighbors, right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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So watersheds is our main rainy day theme, and it starts
with the big picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Big trays of
clay that the kids mold into pathways by which precipitation flows toward the
wetland (a sponge) and then the ocean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Hands-on learning, indeed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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(No cooking today—our kitchen is wet wet wet.)</div>
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</span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-3976986985920896012012-02-24T16:18:00.000-08:002012-02-24T16:18:59.396-08:00special president's week edition<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
There's no school, so presumably we are all home reading. At our house, we are actually, for once, honoring the Presidents' Holiday by reading this brilliant book:</div>
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<a href="http://g-cdn.apartmenttherapy.com/3186881/01_looking_at_lincoln_rect540.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="http://g-cdn.apartmenttherapy.com/3186881/01_looking_at_lincoln_rect540.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Buy it from your local independent bookseller and enjoy forever. Pay no heed to the misconception that your kids are "too old" for picture books. This one has the Gettysburg Address on the endpapers. Maira Kalman, who can do no wrong, loves Lincoln and she will make you love him too. Hurrah for her!</div>
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<br /></div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-90045525554236040152012-02-18T13:41:00.000-08:002012-02-18T13:42:53.290-08:00Free-for-all<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The faithful readers may have noticed that so far, February has been, well… a little difficult. The kids were pushing at the boundaries, hard. So at the beginning of this week’s class, with the children all lined up on benches waiting for their assignments, I was fully expecting T to give a stern lecture on, oh, you know, Respect and Following Directions and so on.<br />
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Nope.<br />
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Instead, she asked them to choose their activity. “Who wants to build raised beds? Who wants to cook?” Whaaa? She’s letting them pick? Surely, chaos and pandemonium will ensue!<br />
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The potential chefs warily ask, “What are we cooking?” to which T responds breezily, “Whatever you want!” and sends the two who want to cook trotting off toward me, the assigned kitchen helper of the day, who had in fact been told that we were making sautéed greens.<br />
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Well, okay then, um, kid choice. I did have to clarify a bit: “We can make whatever you want within the parameters of what ingredients are available. And what’s ready for harvest is mostly kale.”<br />
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These kids, though, they are incredible! They harvested a HUGE mess of kale, found a leek and some garlic in the garden, and went to town. They also wanted biscuits, and there happened to be a big bag of Pamela’s gluten-free baking mix in the fridge, so they whipped out a big batch of gluten-free drop biscuits in time for the box-builders to have a fabulous after work snack.<br />
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The afternoon group, five cooks in all, decided that greens were off the menu, so they made pizza, or, well, they made the closest thing to pizza we could do given our aforementioned parameters.<br />
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And guess what? They were angels. Given some space, some latitude, and an opportunity to invent, they also self-regulated, which worked out far better than our attempts to regulate them usually do. Ahhh, freedom.<br />
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So, kid-inventions below. </div>
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(Plus, the other groups built some rocking redwood garden beds!)</div>
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<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<b>Super-delicious greens</b><br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Harvest a big bunch of kale. Then harvest double that amount, while explaining to the kids how greens cook down much smaller than their original size.
Harvest, wash and chop one leek, sauté in olive oil. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
While waiting for leek to cook, chop up a small head of slightly green heirloom red garlic (sooo yum), then add that into the pan. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
While all that was going on, someone was washing and chopping up the kale. Add as much as you can fit (about half) into the pan until the pan is heaped high, then watch it cook down. Add some Bragg’s Amino Acids and dump it into a bowl. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Decide that before you cook the rest of the greens you will roast up some pumpkin seeds in your pan so throw those in. When they seem toasty, add a bit more oil and the rest of the kale, sauté until bright green and soft. Add more Bragg’s if you want. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Combine the two batches and chow down. Very excellent served with gluten-free drop biscuits. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
<b>Garlic flatbread </b>(the foodstuff formerly known as pizza)<br />
</div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Harvest some red garlic. Get a bit carried away, and harvest a lot. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Wash, peel and chop small, sauté. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Meanwhile, set up two bowls for dough. Let the kids figure out what they want in their dough (okay to give hints). Bowl #1 used one egg, gluten-free baking mix, and some water. Bowl #2 used wheat flour, an egg, some baking powder (no yeast on hand), and salt. They each mixed and kneaded and flattened out the dough on a cookie sheet as best they could. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Spread oil and sautéed garlic all over the dough, cook at 450 or so until brown on edges (gluten-free cooks faster, fyi), about 10ish minutes. </div>
<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
While baking explain psychology of naming food to kids: if they tell their classmates they are serving "pizza," the kids will be expecting tomato sauce and cheese. If they say "garlic bread," they will be expecting sliced bread with butter. "Garlic flatbread," consensus reached by the time the food was ready. And the kids all loved it!
</div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-8815469291121366932012-02-11T16:34:00.000-08:002012-02-11T16:36:32.256-08:00stick-to-it-ness<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This week, by noon, we were ready to throw in the kitchen
dishtowel. The kids had been great
while on-task, but when they sat down to eat their bowls of pasta and hear a
story about--you guessed it!--<i>reverence</i>,
in preparation for next week’s tree-planting ceremony… Well, let’s just say that “reverence”
was not the theme of the day. The
theme of the day was more stick-with-it-even-when-you-feel-entirely-discouraged-and-sure-whatever-it-it-you-are-doing-will-never-work. </div>
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Midway through the morning class, when T walked past the
kitchen with her group of tired raised-bed carpenters, she asked how the
pasta-making was going. </div>
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“Awesome!” the kids chorused, showing off their long
cascades of spaghetti.</div>
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“Yes, now,” I added.
“But it did require a certain amount of stick-to-it-ness.” (Refer to the recipe below!)</div>
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Fortunately, the kids’ pre-irreverent modeling of that
stick-to-it-ness was just the lesson that I needed to help me not flee in
terror before the afternoon group came.
The morning group is usually the Calm Group. Yikes.</div>
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But we stayed, and they came, and for my group I laid out
the boundaries of expected behavior clearly. (Something like: “I have NO
patience today for people not listening.
I have lots of nice but no patience left, so you’re either in garden
class or out, and out means the office.”)
And amazingly, that’s all they needed: an adult with no patience
left. We started to measure out
the flour, and we each stuck to our job even through the sticky bits, and we
all had plenty of nice (even though it seemed unlikely), and plenty of pasta
(even though it seemed like it would never work), and plenty of fun (well, of
course).</div>
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<b>Pasta, a recipe for eight hands</b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
a.k.a. the easiest recipe in the world (to remember, not to
make)</div>
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</span><br />
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1 cup flour</div>
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</span><br />
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1 egg</div>
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</span><br />
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Some warm water if it won’t stick together.</div>
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</span><br />
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Quadruple it to feed ten kids plus helpers (that’s two bowls
each with a doubled recipe).</div>
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Oh, plus we added some garlic powder just for fun. Let’s describe it as a “dash.”</div>
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Mix flour with garlic powder and make a hole in the middle
of the flour to crack the eggs in: one egg per two hands. Beat eggs with a fork and then mix into
flour. We needed a few tablespoons
of warm water to get our dough to stick (probably depends a lot on your flour
and the size of the eggs).</div>
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Be careful not to make it too sticky as you have to run it
through the pasta machine.</div>
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Knead the dough and divide into four balls (that’s if you’re
feeding lots of kids—if you did the one cup flour/one egg version then you have
one ball of dough). Flatten each
ball with hard smacks from the eight hands and crank it through the pasta
machine. Cranking each machine
requires at least four hands working on concert to keep the crank going, the machine
from escaping from the clamp holding it to the table, and the dough going
properly both in and out of the rollers.</div>
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Theoretically, the dough will emerge as a long strip of
flattened dough. In practice, it
might come out of the machine as a bunch of sloppy dough shreds. This will seriously challenge the faith
that the group previously had in the machine, themselves, and their adult
helper. </div>
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Try again! More
shreds. Cheerlead a bit,
hopefully. Press the shreds into a
something resembling a messy slab and try again. Woohoo! Bigger,
flatter shreds! We can do it! Keep going. Flatten, crank, repeat. Eventually, if you believe, and stick to it (not to the
machine, that would be overly disheartening), you will in fact have a long thin
strip of dough. Which you can fold
in half and keep running through the machine as you adjust the rollers to be
closer and closer together. </div>
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This roll, fold, repeat maneuver is not in the printed
instructions, but if you happen to have watched your friend the professional
chef make pasta with this own kids one night, you will recall that he did this
so it seems like probably a good idea.</div>
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Miraculously, the sheets eventually turn shiny and beautiful
and you can move the crank handle over to the noodle-cutting part of the
machine, and crank the sheet through to the delight of the owners of the eight
hard-working hands!</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MHKsaFuxcRA/Tzb9s0GgrSI/AAAAAAAAAU4/xxebxUrooqs/s1600/p_00139.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MHKsaFuxcRA/Tzb9s0GgrSI/AAAAAAAAAU4/xxebxUrooqs/s200/p_00139.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nKVBMtUhpmI/Tzb9PMYp7-I/AAAAAAAAAUw/i03p7vpBVvM/s1600/p_00140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-nKVBMtUhpmI/Tzb9PMYp7-I/AAAAAAAAAUw/i03p7vpBVvM/s200/p_00140.jpg" width="150" /></a>(Confession: we used jar tomato sauce. But we also harvested kale and sautéed
it to eat with the pasta. With
grated parmesan for all.)</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mKYR_q3Tq5c/TzcCTmYYrCI/AAAAAAAAAVA/_QGHcD8bSgE/s1600/p_00142.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mKYR_q3Tq5c/TzcCTmYYrCI/AAAAAAAAAVA/_QGHcD8bSgE/s200/p_00142.jpg" width="166" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">YUM!!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-24408362627503143372012-02-03T17:26:00.000-08:002012-02-03T17:27:25.795-08:00C is for Cabbage, and Cold, and Coleslaw, and Compromise<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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It’s cold season, so T started off the class with a brief
talk about Vitamin C, where you find it, and how it works. Her theater training really pays off
when it comes to engaging the kids’ attention: they were transfixed by her
impersonation of the immune system.
Then we set off for the garden with a plan: food with high C-content
today!<br />
</div>
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This week I was off remixing a barrel of dirt with my group
(that’s a process of digging, dumping, blending nutrients--compost!--into the
soil, and refilling) and planting peas, greens, and flowers, so when we headed
in to wash up and eat the coleslaw that the cooking group had made, I asked the
kitchen helper mom if she followed the recipe as written that I found lying
beside the chopping boards. <br />
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“Yes, I followed it exactly,” she said.<br />
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“Wow. That
never happens,” I murmured as I copied it down to post. Word for word, starting to wonder if I
needed to credit the source. I
don’t usually since our normal garden kitchen procedure is to mangle the
starting recipe far beyond recognition before we are done. <br />
</div>
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“Oh, except, I didn’t do the thing with the apples,” she
remembered, after I carefully wrote out the too-many steps to prevent apple
browning. “I just put them in
last.”<br />
</div>
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</span><br />
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“Okay, cool.”<br />
</div>
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We serve ourselves big bowls of the immune-supporting slaw.<br />
</div>
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“Hey, there are carrots in here. That wasn’t in the recipe.”<br />
</div>
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</span><br />
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“Well, they were on the table, so we used them.”<br />
</div>
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</span><br />
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“Of course. And
I’m noticing a bottle here that appears to have once contained agave syrup.”<br />
</div>
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“Oh, yeah. We
used that too.”<br />
</div>
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</span><br />
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Recipe, take two.
Source: what’s on the table, with a few tips from an old CSA newsletter
from Taylor Maid Farm.</div>
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</span><br />
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<b>Cold-season Coleslaw</b></div>
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1 red cabbage, hacked to bits</div>
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1 green cabbage, similarly prepped</div>
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However many carrots are in a bunch, grated</div>
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A panful of roasted walnut pieces </div>
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Some crispy apples, grated at the last minute</div>
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2 Tbsp apple cider vinegar</div>
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Lemon juice from one lemon</div>
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Sea salt</div>
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Fresh ground pepper</div>
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1/2 cup olive oil</div>
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</span><br />
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However much agave syrup remains in a mostly used-up bottle</div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">A
splash of heavy cream (if you’ve got vegans)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">(</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Come
to think of it, with that much cabbage they probably doubled the
dressing recipe as it was originally written for a single-cabbage slaw.)</span><br />
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">Whisk vinegar, lemon juice, salt & pepper together, then whisk in olive oil. Then agave and cream. Toss with cabbage, carrots, walnuts and apples. Serve. </span><br />
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</span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-85146540110732845772012-01-27T16:50:00.000-08:002012-02-03T16:54:51.612-08:00How to harvest broccoli<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Okay, truth is, this week they were </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">all</i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-style: normal;"> Wild Child and Wild Child was so wild that I am
still recovering and have zero energy for blogging. But I probably don’t need to say what happened in garden
class to the rest of you third grade parents since you are the ones at home
scrubbing out the mud-soaked clothes and silt-swamped shoes… </span>
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Unless your kids was in this group of kids who managed to
move a bunch of compost without getting drenched:</div>
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But, in brief, here goes.</div>
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You know, this is just one of those things that I <i>so</i><span style="font-style: normal;"> hate to admit I didn’t know before I went to third
grade garden class. But I
didn’t. I never knew the correct
way to harvest broccoli. Not that
I’ve ever had much to harvest beyond a few little florets. But still. I hope someday to need to know how to harvest broccoli. And now I do. (You cut it diagonally below the florets you want to eat but
above healthy leaves so the stalk can send out some new florets.)</span></div>
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<b>Broccoli with lemon butter</b></div>
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Make a pot of brown rice.</div>
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Harvest and cut up broccoli (florets and stems), steam.</div>
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Melt some fake butter (for the non-dairy types); squeeze out
a lemon; mix “butter” and juice.</div>
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Mix broccoli, lemon butter, a big handful of sesame seeds,
and some Bragg’s Amino Acids (Extra squirts for the kids who like it
salty). Serve over the rice. Yum.</div>
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</span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-3922519501631855552012-01-21T12:59:00.000-08:002012-01-21T15:33:16.611-08:00We're all in this together<br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">My favorite line this week: “There’s no such thing as your stick and my stick,” Bossy Boots huffs to Wild Child, who has applied his frenzied energy to the pruning job we are doing while waiting for the biscuits to bake.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<a href="http://www.mountainvalleygrowers.com/images/taglemoniibush.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="186" src="http://www.mountainvalleygrowers.com/images/taglemoniibush.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We are cutting back the tajetes lucida (Mexican marigold) bush, a job I have taken on annually, fearing it will take over the school garden the same way it has colonized all unwary areas of my own, proving second only to the blackberries in persistent, unwelcome spreading. According to wikipedia, </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tagetes_lucida" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">tajetes</a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> is actually a very interesting and useful plant. We could be using the leaves in place of tarragon! In fact, we could have used them in our herb butter today. If only our herb butter had been butter… see recipe. But the kids are dismantling the plant quite effectively, in a many-hands-make-light-work collective sort of way.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Unlike the picture I grabbed off the web (my camera is broken), our bush currently looks like a brown stick-bush, thanks to the recent freezing nights. So the kids are surprised to realize, as they cut back (to best of their ability given that we give them child-size clippers with limited capacity for cutting anything over a 1/2 cm diameter), that the plant is still very much alive. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">"Hey, it’s alive in here,” Wild Child notes. “We’re not hurting it, are we?”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Assured that, no, they aren’t hurting it, just allowing it to grow back healthier, they attack with full abandon, each coveting the longer sticks. But Bossy Boots reminds them that this is a collective task. “There’s no such thing as your stick and my stick.” All together now.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"><b>Hot Biscuits on a Cold Day</b> (Seriously, what could be better, since our “classroom” is outdoors?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2 cups flour or gluten-free baking mix (For the wheat version, we used the bag of white flour b/c I didn’t notice the jar of whole wheat until it was too late. Half white/half whole wheat works well.)</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">2 t baking powder</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1/2 t salt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1/2 t baking soda</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">5-6 T Earth Balance or other fake butter</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">3/4 c buttermilk</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Mix dry ingredients, cut in butter substitute, then stir in buttermilk. Knead, roll out, and cut out rounds with any old jar you have sitting around. </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bake at 425 for 12-15 minutes.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> <b>Herb Butter</b></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">DO NOT do what we did, which was keep the cream cold, chill the jar, and chill the marbles. Our butter was what my kids call a “big fail.” We served our biscuits with runny herb whipped cream.</span> <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Start with everything at room temperature.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">1 pint heavy cream</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">5 marbles</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">A big handful of chopped (or pulverized if the kids prefer the mortar and pestle approach) herbs, whatever you like, we used parsley and thyme</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Throw it into a jar and shake until you have butter. This is a GREAT activity if Wild Child has extra energy—just send her jogging around the field with the jar for a few laps. With our too-cold version, it made a great example of how we all much pitch in to accomplish a task, as everyone’s shaking arm had plenty of opportunities to get tired. </span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-10522706476185636342012-01-13T12:19:00.000-08:002012-01-21T12:20:13.646-08:00thank you, garden program<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
Overheard at my house this week:</div>
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Nine-year-old to six-year-old, "If you don't put the greens on your taco, you are missing out on a BIG TREAT. Seriously." </div>
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<br /></div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-17273890079990690772012-01-06T11:07:00.000-08:002012-01-06T11:07:54.131-08:00Tis the (next) season<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Our garden teacher not only knocks herself out designing
this soul-feeding program for our kids, she also has kids of her own. And not just the two with whom she
lives (off the grid, by the way, growing their own food, generally showing the
rest of us how unnecessarily comfortable our lives are). As for the others, well, I guess since
they are sheep, not goats, they are lambs, not kids.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"> </span>
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It’s lambing season, the stresses of which I only vaguely
recall from my teenage reading of <i>All Creatures Great and Small</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, a Yorkshire country vet’s account of his years
stumbling around barns extracting stuck lambs from their mothers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The whole venture gives me a sense of
wet wool steaming in the cold, and wobbly legs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(And since I was a midwife for a time, bright red afterbirth
as well.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
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So the garden is fallow, we have a break from garden class
for a few more weeks, and T is home on her land with the lambs, receiving field
trips of wide-eyed school children yearning for a glimpse of a fresh-made baby
animal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s nothing like new
life to start a new year off right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We’ll hope for rain, and let this year take a few more weeks to get its
wobbly legs working right.</div>
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And I will refrain from providing even one recipe for rack of
lamb.</div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-42106609316137637452011-12-30T11:11:00.000-08:002012-01-06T11:11:44.446-08:00Winter break<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
No school. No garden class. No rain. </div>
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I don't mind the first two. But maybe a bit of the third would be nice? </div>
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See you after break--if you're looking for some reading, check last week's <a href="http://schoolgardenyear.blogspot.com/2011/12/real-true-gifts.html" target="_blank">holiday message</a>...</div>
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<br /></div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-12356507506862435742011-12-24T22:55:00.000-08:002011-12-24T23:03:32.280-08:00Real, True Gifts<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">These long dark nights of winter break remind me of my own
inner darkness. Sometimes I am
mean. And hard-hearted. Just before the break, I was
meanly resenting the students in the garden for not appreciating what was being
laid before them. They were
restless and inattentive. To them,
it seemed much more like classroom learning than most moments in the garden:
they were being asked to copy something from the blackboard, to draw and label
the layers of compost that they had been assembling in the new pile. They whined and interrupted. I spoke up: “Guys, I keep hearing
people talking while T is trying to explain something, and it doesn’t feel very
respectful to me.” Okay, not
so very mean. But what I meant was
“shut the %&*# up, this is </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">important</i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-style: normal;">. She is giving you a </span><i style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">gift</i><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-style: normal;"> here, people.”</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
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I was acutely aware of this gift, having had the need to call upon it not long before. The story: I am particularly hard-hearted when it comes to my
depriving my own kids of the pleasures of modern life, namely, movies. My poor kids are so movie-starved that
when I am too ill to do anything but lie in bed, I can show them a
cheese-making instructional video and they actually enjoy it. But recently, weary from various
personal stressors, I decided to let them watch an actual, mainstream, narrative-based film. For this
special event I chose <i>Wall-E</i><span style="font-style: normal;">, based on
my completely uninformed impression that it had a strong pro-environment
message.</span></div>
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<i>Wall-E</i><span style="font-style: normal;">,
unfortunately, did not give us an evening of relaxed family time. Rather, my five-year-old whined through
most of it that it was boring, and my ten-year-old ended up in tears. Given that the movie has an predictably
happy ending, the tears confused me, until my sweet, sad boy said, in reference
to the earth overrun by life-killing garbage that provides the backdrop for the
robot love story: “I feel like that’s really happening.” </span></div>
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My kid sees a planet being abused. And who am I to correct him? When we are willing to let drop all the masks we wear to
protect ourselves from seeing it, we know he’s right. That’s what’s really happening, in many ways, perhaps not
precisely through the over-accumulation of soda cans, but from the
over-accumulation of carbon in the atmosphere and toxins in our
environment. It’s real. And scary. And sad.</div>
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So, what do you tell a kid who is describing a basic truth
about the world, a sad, scary truth?
You hand him another truth, a concrete, real, hopeful one. You say, “But you and I, and all the
kids at school, we will not let a world like that happen, a world without soil,
without plants, without food. Without
life. Because you and I, and all
the kids at school, we know how to make dirt. We know how to create a place for plants to grow, and how to
grow food. We, all of us, will
never let that happen.” And when
you say that, he nods, and you see some light return to his eyes. </div>
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May the light ever return, and may we pass on the gifts that
we are given. Now, let’s make some dirt.</div>
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Recipe in pictorial form:</div>
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How to make Compost Cake:</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pc8QghmF0fc/Tuv1pWr-D_I/AAAAAAAAARo/ScZ7-YDP93c/s1600/SDC14311.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Pc8QghmF0fc/Tuv1pWr-D_I/AAAAAAAAARo/ScZ7-YDP93c/s640/SDC14311.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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(And later in the year, once their dirt-making pile is
smokin’ hot, I’ll make them the chocolate version. So check back in the springtime.)</div>
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</span>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-32636124628443421802011-12-16T18:21:00.000-08:002011-12-17T07:50:24.890-08:00Everyone loves latkes (even Santa)<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Last spring, during the last week of school, I corralled a
handful of second grade boys into planting a bed full of potatoes. They, to be honest, would have rather
been playing tetherball. But I
told them, panic rising in my voice: “but if we don’t plant the potatoes, we
won’t have latkes next winter!”
That got ‘em digging.
Everyone loves latkes, even the kids who don’t know what they are.
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Truth be told, our potato bed didn’t fare as well as usual
and this year’s latke potatoes were storebought. But the kids did follow the rhythm of it, spring planting
for winter food. </div>
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The third grade focusses its learning around Hebrew culture,
so this last week before winter break, latkes are always on the menu. They’ve been learning “Oh, Hanukkah”
since kindergarten, so they are well primed by “Gather round the table, we'll
give you a treat/Dreidels to play with and latkes to eat…” Though somehow, the religious
significance of the oil and the festival of lights seems somewhat watered down
by the proliferation of Santa hats around the table. Ah, well, we feed them, and some of it they absorb, right?</div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V6Lp2VW7vT4/Tuv1cDlfUCI/AAAAAAAAARQ/75qPl5cAkNc/s1600/SDC14312.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V6Lp2VW7vT4/Tuv1cDlfUCI/AAAAAAAAARQ/75qPl5cAkNc/s320/SDC14312.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<b>The Two (no-so-secret) Secrets to making good Latkes</b></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zJ_kPAIwWvc/Tuv1zm1IlUI/AAAAAAAAAR4/IGL3yPhC55o/s1600/SDC14323.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zJ_kPAIwWvc/Tuv1zm1IlUI/AAAAAAAAAR4/IGL3yPhC55o/s200/SDC14323.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
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Secret Number One: get the starch OUT of the potatoes! </div>
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Give each kid a good-sized potato to grate. Have two at a time dump their grated
potato into a thin muslin cloth, twist it up and squeeze all the liquid
out. Squeeze hard, then dump
now-dry grated potato into a large bowl.
Repeat for each pair of kids.
Meanwhile, discuss all the possible uses for potato starch if you chose
to save the “squozed-out” liquid and dry the starch. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Have each kid beat one egg and add to potato bowl, throw in
a teaspoon or so of salt (we used about 1.5 teaspoons per dozen potatoes), and mix. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Secret Number Two: have the oil HOT!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wbCJhf9B0zQ/Tuv12EsPP6I/AAAAAAAAASA/lBSc3MvVbTM/s1600/SDC14330.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wbCJhf9B0zQ/Tuv12EsPP6I/AAAAAAAAASA/lBSc3MvVbTM/s200/SDC14330.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
This means that really, you have to read the kids a story
while a parent fries the latkes in an insane frenzy of hot oil and flame. Remind them of the significance of the
oil and the menorah. Serve those
latkes hot off the stove (after a quick drain on paper towels), with the
applesauce they made last week.
Keep frying until everyone has had thirds and you are out of potato
mixture.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Then, since they gobbled so fast, let them play in the woods
until the time for garden class is over.
‘Cause there’s nothing like muddy feet to add a sense of the sacred into
any day.</div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-63516586045347067152011-12-10T09:27:00.001-08:002011-12-10T09:31:40.161-08:00Apple (a) Day<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
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<div class="MsoNormal">
On Wednesday, third grade garden day, my third grader wakes
up with a stomach ache.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
complains of this particular complaint with enough frequency that I usually
make him go to school for main lesson and if he still remembers that he has a
stomach ache at recess time, he can come home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually by recess, it’s gone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But there were enough nocturnal rumblings from that corner
last night justify a day off.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Unfortunately, it’s the busy holiday season and no one can
sub for me in the garden, so the boy home from school has to go to school with
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He brings his drawing pad and
a blanket and we make him a little nest near my workstation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The garden can’t spare an adult today:
it’s apple day. We have multiple sharp objects for peeling and slicing, plus,
as a bonus, boiling hot applesauce to put into boiling hot jars.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All hands on deck.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(This year we did apple day at the
school with apples brought from a parent’s trees, but to get a sense of it, see
<a href="http://schoolgardenyear.blogspot.com/2010/10/106-apple-day-or-adventures-in-food.html" target="_blank">last year’s apple day</a>.)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My station is applesauce cake, the position of least
danger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No knives or peelers,
mostly just measuring cups and spoons, to intersect cleanly with the measuring
segment the kids are doing in math.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We get the cake mixed, and Wild Child points at me, “Um, YOU
are BLEEDING.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow, in my
little station of round objects, I have gashed my knuckle, as if just knowing
that there are people peeling apples within 100 feet is enough to take off some
skin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>WC then starts a
chorus of “Ooooh, gross!” and immediately takes advantage of the fact that I
have turned my back to wash off the blood and grab a band-aid; WC leads the
group over to the little pond where they immediately all break off chunks of
ice so they can then yell about how cold their hands are.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I make them
wash their hands so they can get the batter into the pan and then the
oven.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why do we have to wash our
hands AGAIN?” they whine, clutching the chunks of pond ice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Um…” I roll my eyes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why don’t you think about that as you
walk to the sink?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Once the cake is in the oven, my little sick guy lurks near
the baking warmth and good smells.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Poor thing, he won’t be able to have any of the cake that will go back
to class as celebration for the teacher’s birthday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Fortunately, by midday we determine that we have peeled and
chopped enough apples to shut down the sharp objects workstation, freeing up an
adult to relieve me in the kitchen, and they send us home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We pick up my kindergartener and head home to make our own
applecake from the same recipe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And by the time it gets out of the oven, steaming warm spice, we all
feel better.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b><span style="font-size: small;">Applesauce Cake</span></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(makes 2 9-inch pans or 1 Bundt pan with extra for a couple
of little cake-lets)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dipDqIP-Zas/TuOXEgHn1DI/AAAAAAAAARE/KrGuvbesgJM/s1600/applecake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="262" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dipDqIP-Zas/TuOXEgHn1DI/AAAAAAAAARE/KrGuvbesgJM/s320/applecake.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Preheat oven to 350.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Grease & flour pans.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Cream (forks in the garden, mixer at home):</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 sticks butter</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 1/2 cups<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>or
less brown sugar (use less if your applesauce is sweetened)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Beat in: </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 large eggs</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Mix:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3 cups flour </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(in the garden we use 100% whole wheat, at home we did 2
cups white and 1 whole wheat)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 1/2 tsp baking soda</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 tsp cinnamon</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 tsp cloves</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1/4 tsp nutmeg (fresh grated in the garden—may well explain
the gashed finger)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ginger to taste (optional)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
1 tsp salt (reduce if your butter is salted)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Stir flour mixture into wet ingredients in 3 parts, alternating
with</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2 cups homemade chunky (or just any) applesauce</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In the garden, we added some crushed walnuts to the
top.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At home, we stirred in three
cut up apples that were getting old in the fridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In other words, add whatever you want.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Bake anywhere from 30 minutes to an hour depending on your
pan and oven.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you feel fancy (we did), sprinkle with powdered sugar.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Share and enjoy.</div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-70353087884040570822011-12-01T12:52:00.001-08:002011-12-01T12:57:01.708-08:00Tucking in the beds<div class="MsoNormal">
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</style><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">As we prepare for the rain and cold, we are having a general
clean-up day. I’m recovering from
a cold and should probably be tucked in bed, but I came anyway. Fortunately, Wild Child and I have
struck an easy truce as we fill the day with various physical tasks: weeding,
mulching, cleaning out the greenhouse, and finally planting all the leek
starts. WC often tires of any
given task, but I have found a secret: if I laugh heartily at his jokes (yes,
the same ones that my son has come home and told me ad infinitum), he can stay
on task easier. So he repeats old
joke after old joke, and then, as we gently separate the little chive-sized
leeks from one another and nestle them down in their beds, he comes up with a
new one. Which he then proceeds to
repeat over and over, pleased with himself, until it is old. But the leeks keep getting planted, so
I keep laughing. And I mean
it. Because, really, we are happy.
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Of course, I told him I’d post it so all the parents could
read it: “You know, when you are getting ready for winter you usually fill the
leaks with patches? Well, we are
filling the patches with leeks!”
(Big chuckle. Every time.)</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i-QgG4bN1PE/Ttfo3HjqP5I/AAAAAAAAAQo/6krdJ5BU504/s1600/SDC14258.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="268" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i-QgG4bN1PE/Ttfo3HjqP5I/AAAAAAAAAQo/6krdJ5BU504/s400/SDC14258.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Clean-up (Pomegranate/Walnut) Salad</span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<span style="font-size: small;">It’s now or never for most of the lettuces, so despite the
chill in the air, we are having salad today.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">Harvest, triple wash, and spin the remaining lettuce in the
beds.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Cut open a pomegranate and remove the seeds.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;"> (You can cut it in half and bang it
with a spoon and they just fall out, wow!)</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">Toast a few handfuls of walnut pieces on the stove.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif; font-size: small;">Mix up some olive oil, apple cider vinegar, and honey.</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;">Toss it all together and enjoy!</span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-68467064508414574772011-11-23T22:53:00.001-08:002011-11-28T17:54:07.723-08:00Giving thanks: full circle (cut into parts)<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Who said a little rain could cancel pizza day, after more than a year of preparation by these kids? And by midday the sun came out after all, and the kids said this blessing before they sat to eat:</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
The silver rain,<br />
The shining sun,<br />
The fields where scarlet poppies run<br />
<br />
And all the ripples of the wheat<br />
Are in the pizza that I do eat<br />
<br />
And when I sit for every meal<br />
And say a grace<br />
I always feel<br />
<br />
That I am eating rain and sun<br />
And fields where scarlet poppies run.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br />
We ask all good blessings on our meal and on everyone.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--l6DOosJjrU/Ts3w5R16SRI/AAAAAAAAANo/x9ezr6Uh6ts/s1600/SDC14225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--l6DOosJjrU/Ts3w5R16SRI/AAAAAAAAANo/x9ezr6Uh6ts/s200/SDC14225.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<b>How to Make Pizza</b></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
In the spring, collect a bunch of manure to spread over the plot you have double dug. Layer the manure, then cardboard, then straw, and water the whole pile weekly for four months.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hOSVaQn3-ys/Ts3x4wPTE-I/AAAAAAAAAOA/u_7pWBo8ToQ/s1600/SDC12616.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hOSVaQn3-ys/Ts3x4wPTE-I/AAAAAAAAAOA/u_7pWBo8ToQ/s200/SDC12616.JPG" width="150" /></a>In the fall, remove the straw and cardboard and add them to your compost pile, then dig in what's left of the manure.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
Make some rockin' scarecrows out of old clothes and trashed CDs. Have fun with it. Try not to fight too much over the best accessories.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LGMvUz-5sF8/Ts3yDvzTVnI/AAAAAAAAAOI/SzePUysmI7Y/s1600/SDC11874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LGMvUz-5sF8/Ts3yDvzTVnI/AAAAAAAAAOI/SzePUysmI7Y/s200/SDC11874.JPG" width="200" /></a>Scatter heirloom wheatberries passed down to you from the previous year's class over the prepped plot. Mark the field so people will know it's not just grass.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xM8eyPz0UI4/Ts3x1b2PAjI/AAAAAAAAAN4/lE8eVYgeKAg/s1600/SDC12614.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xM8eyPz0UI4/Ts3x1b2PAjI/AAAAAAAAAN4/lE8eVYgeKAg/s200/SDC12614.JPG" width="200" /></a>Watch it grow. Notice how much it shoots up when it rains. Check it at least weekly for 7 months. In the spring, see the slow toll of gophers, and the impression of the deer that thinks the wheatfield is a great place to sleep.</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br />
<br />
<br />
In the summertime, come by to learn to use a scythe and harvest the wheat.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ip-ZbNK6yeI/Ts37NDpq7kI/AAAAAAAAAPE/k4HjVv0XzCI/s1600/SDC14195.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ip-ZbNK6yeI/Ts37NDpq7kI/AAAAAAAAAPE/k4HjVv0XzCI/s200/SDC14195.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KYP5zt8v39M/Ts37WEGTUwI/AAAAAAAAAPc/gRUDW6y0uV8/s1600/SDC14184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KYP5zt8v39M/Ts37WEGTUwI/AAAAAAAAAPc/gRUDW6y0uV8/s200/SDC14184.jpg" width="150" /></a><br />
<br />
In the fall (yes, the second fall), thresh (the doing-the-twist-on-a-pillowcase method is always popular) and winnow the wheat. Get a visceral sense of the phrase "separating the wheat from the chaff."</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1OgIKus62Ek/Ts37Mb8mx4I/AAAAAAAAAO8/PqPCKA4sBow/s1600/SDC14190.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1OgIKus62Ek/Ts37Mb8mx4I/AAAAAAAAAO8/PqPCKA4sBow/s200/SDC14190.jpg" width="158" /></a></div>
Grind the wheatberries. Make dough from the resulting flour (Mix 3 cups flour with 1.5 tsp salt. Mix separately: 1 package active dry yeast, 1/2 cup tepid water, a pinch of sugar, wait 5 minutes, then add 3/4 cup cold milk. Mix the dry and wet ingredients, add 2 Tbsp olive oil, and once it masses, let it rest 5 minutes. Then knead 50 strokes, rest 2 minutes, knead 20 strokes, cover and let rise for 1.5 hours or until you have the outdoor oven ready.)</div>
<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
<br /></div>
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JSGP4ezQczs/Ts3v7TsH7KI/AAAAAAAAANQ/MPXIp2fl06g/s1600/SDC14204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JSGP4ezQczs/Ts3v7TsH7KI/AAAAAAAAANQ/MPXIp2fl06g/s200/SDC14204.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Form into pizza rounds, load up with toppings...</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fJTsY6vxDhg/Ts3wamimWzI/AAAAAAAAANg/VCWrM680mCI/s1600/SDC14219.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fJTsY6vxDhg/Ts3wamimWzI/AAAAAAAAANg/VCWrM680mCI/s200/SDC14219.JPG" width="200" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">bake... </span>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">and share.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Bless the food, and enjoy. Then go back to your classroom for a fractions lesson.</span><br />
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<br />Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-34589218544024599842011-11-19T10:15:00.001-08:002011-11-24T00:03:09.107-08:00Time for a Break<div style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">
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T calls in the morning, reminding me to bring the sack of
wheat I have at home from the summer harvest (part of a diversified grain
storage plan intended to minimize rodent risk). “Left it in the classroom at drop-off,” I tell her, just
before getting into the shower.
There’s an hour before garden class starts and despite the seeming folly
of showering before gardening, I’m just that much in need of a shower that it
can’t wait. When I get out of the
comforting steam, my phone has two urgent messages from T: “Help! I left the cooked pumpkin and pie
recipe at home. Do you have the
Joy of Cooking? Call me.” And “Oh,
and I somehow forgot the cream, can you stop and get two pints of heavy cream
on your way over?”</div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pk_nWlTdVec/Tsf0KIami3I/AAAAAAAAAJI/gbBsDAeRZ4w/s1600/SDC14107.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Pk_nWlTdVec/Tsf0KIami3I/AAAAAAAAAJI/gbBsDAeRZ4w/s200/SDC14107.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I’m not worried about the pumpkin, as we still have several
massive heirloom pumpkins sitting around, so we can throw another one in the
oven.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And pumpkin pie happens to
be one of the things I feel don’t need a recipe.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">I’m more worried about T, that the constant onslaught of
tiny details and broad visions of what more we can do has worn her down to this
state of exhaustion.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Good thing we
have a week off for Thanksgiving next week.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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Turns out, today she has the perfect pre-holiday class planned: pumpkins
galore. The kids are tired, too,
and restless, so it seems like a good day to be less ambitious than usual and
just enjoy the fruits of our harvest (or, that is, the vegetables). </div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q2-hugUciOA/Tsf0nLF9vGI/AAAAAAAAAKA/PvDeZIkC-6s/s1600/SDC14156.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q2-hugUciOA/Tsf0nLF9vGI/AAAAAAAAAKA/PvDeZIkC-6s/s200/SDC14156.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We divide into two groups: half go to work on the pie
project and half make (fully compostable!) Thanksgiving decorations to take
home.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">And, lo and behold!</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Somehow, despite the fact that the pie
prep wasn’t done as planned, we are eating it by the end of class, reminding
the kids of how they planted the pumpkin starts last spring.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span></div>
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So, along the theme of everyone needing a break, I will now
fail to wrap up a nice little essay and instead provide some pics of what a
beautiful day it was. (And of course, the pie recipe.)</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Pumpkin Pie</span></h1>
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In the spring, as a last-minute afterthought to the corn
planting, plant some heirloom pumpkins along the edges of the cornfield.</div>
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When summer ends, discover that the pumpkins have thrived
from the thrice-weekly watering of the corn. Tenderly move the vines and drag the giant pumpkins away
from the tetherball courts that they have claimed as their own.</div>
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Load them up into wheelbarrows and share the harvest with
all the faculty and staff who have supported the garden program. Keep a few for seed-saving and cooking.
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Cut into quarters (halves would be too big to fit in the
oven), scrape out the seeds (for next year) and pulp, and bake until soft. Scape flesh from shell and mash.</div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PTnnatMqcWU/Tsf0OIYSb9I/AAAAAAAAAJU/No70ourogus/s1600/SDC14119.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-PTnnatMqcWU/Tsf0OIYSb9I/AAAAAAAAAJU/No70ourogus/s200/SDC14119.jpg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Beat three eggs, add enough mashed pumpkin to make two pies,
mix with 3/4 cup brown sugar and a pint or so of heavy cream, a pinch of salt,
and whichever spices the kids want to add (cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, ginger).
For extra fun, let the kids put a fingerful of ground cloves on their
tongues.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Make sure they have a
clear path to the water fountain.</span></div>
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Pour into crust* a bake about an hour.</div>
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<b>*School Garden Vegan Crust</b></div>
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Okay, you might be noticing that we are not so good with
actual recipes. I think this might
be great for the kids, as they see how you can improvise and be creative. On the other hand, I personally like to
have a recipe from which to work.
Our pie crust started with an old Joy of Cooking recipe and morphed from
there. The ingredient breakdown
went something like this:</div>
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2 1/2 cups whole wheat flour </div>
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a handful of blue cornmeal (adds a great nutty flavor)</div>
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1/2 teaspoon salt</div>
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1 cup cold Earth Balance fake butter</div>
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6 tablespoons ice cold water</div>
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we would have added a dash of ground cardamom but we forgot</div>
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<span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Cut the fake butter into the flour/salt/cornmeal with forks
or a pastry cutter.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Dribble in
enough of the water to form the dough into a ball.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Roll out as best you can (it won’t be as elastic as a white
flour crust), then do your best to transfer it into a cast iron pan (or pie
tin).</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">We had to do a lot of
re-assembly in the pan, pinching it back together.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">The lesson: pie doesn’t have to be perfect to be great.</span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS",sans-serif;">Of course, a pastry cloth or wax paper
would have made a smoother counter-to-pan transfer, but we use what we have,
which is often our hands.</span></div>
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Pour in the filling and throw that baby in the oven. Do not do not do not fret that the kids will not like the whole wheat cornmeal crust. They will LOVE it. Really and truly, they did. </div>
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<br /></div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3722993745729114919.post-37111456875908748802011-11-12T08:38:00.001-08:002011-12-01T07:20:47.190-08:00Off and Running<div style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">
The fourth graders used to seem impossibly grown-up. Now one of them is mine, and yes, they are impossibly grown up. For little kids. They are starting to learn fractions, so next week we will wrap up the loose ends of their 3rd grade farm year by threshing and grinding the wheat they planted this time last year. What does that have to do with fractions, you wonder? Well, when you thresh and grind wheat, you have flour. And when you have flour, and a cobb oven, you can make pizza. And when you cut pizza… fractions! And yes, planting wheat a year ahead of time does seem like the long way around to learn how to divide a whole into parts. </div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7k97aZaSbH4/TtebFfNz2iI/AAAAAAAAAQc/MOfpijI-3eE/s1600/scarecrows.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7k97aZaSbH4/TtebFfNz2iI/AAAAAAAAAQc/MOfpijI-3eE/s200/scarecrows.jpg" width="200" /></a>Then again, it might be a short cut to learning how to turn parts into a whole. How to turn a group of kids into a community, how to turn several bites of food into an understanding of soil enrichment (the horse manure I brought from our pony to prep the soil, real life poop in their shovels), pest management (scarecrows, amazingly effective), measurement & recording (how much rain fell into the gauge, how tall are our shoots this week), and time (in the classroom they do what-time-does-this-clock-say worksheets, the garden gives them a sense of time’s passage as they see their wheat sprout and change, watching the clock hands of their lives moving forward as the wheat and they all grow taller together). But that’s the fourth graders, and their pizza won’t be in the oven until next week. </div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QWWMwSrdhT4/Ttea95Yd7WI/AAAAAAAAAQU/xpt3tA29nDo/s1600/scarecrowface.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-QWWMwSrdhT4/Ttea95Yd7WI/AAAAAAAAAQU/xpt3tA29nDo/s200/scarecrowface.jpg" width="200" /></a>This week it’s the third graders’ turn to plant their wheat, and to me it feels like I’ll blink and there they will be, big fourth graders, threshing and grinding. This convergence of planting and pizza have brought me to the predictable (yet always surprising) revelation that I can’t stop time, and my kids are growing older, and I can’t slow it down no matter how much I just want to keep them small enough to stay under the shield of my motherwings. “Slow down!” I want to yell, over the din of the third grade class negotiating with each other about which clothes and accessories will make the best scarecrows. (Scarecrow-making tends to be the class in which we dive headlong into intense social dynamics.) </div>
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Instead, I fall back on my usual “Walking feet please, walking feet” singsong, with which I remind them that there is a hard and fast No Running rule in the garden area (hey, we have knives and sharp tools AND slippery mud, we gotta draw the line somewhere). I am The Enforcer of such rules—“your mom is such a nurse,” they complain to my son—constantly making kids rewash their hands or return to their starting place and walk, losing their coveted place in line. They all know that I’m unlikely to cut them much slack in that way, always wishing they would slow down and stay safe. </div>
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So when my scarecrow group finishes their creation (I love these kids, because when they couldn’t decide whether it was a man or a woman and I suggested “transgendered,” they all just shrugged and said “yeah, that.”) and we are assigned to go harvest for today’s stir-fry, we all walk off across the playfield toward the beds behind the classrooms. Well, maybe there was some surreptitious skipping behind my back, but I didn’t see that; I certainly would have had to nix the joyful skipping if I’d seen it, so I kept my eyes on the purple bean vines we were heading for. Actually, we are not technically in the garden area so the No Running rule isn’t valid, but I’m not going to bring that up. Wild Child is in my group, and his feet are anxious ones, always tapping and shuffling, kicking wood chips and generally trying to escape the confines of their assigned space. </div>
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We pick half of the long eggplant-colored beans, leaving the rest for the afternoon group, then build a large pile of kale leaves on top of the bean bowl, and I let Wild Child harvest the lone tiny broccoli floret which has suddenly become the object of all his longing. The excitement of adding his own unplanned ingredient to the stir-fry is almost too much for his twitchy feet, and his wide green eyes turn up to me pleading, as we turn to head back across the wide expanse of grass to the garden. “As long as you stop at the garden gate,” I smile, taking the bowl of vegetables. And they are off, as if their feet have wings. Maybe my wings are getting too small for them already.
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<b>Autumn Harvest Stir-fry</b> </div>
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Overheard, a monologue:
“Stir-fry! Cool, stir-fry is awesome…. Wait. No, not stir-fry. I hate stir-fry. Yuck... Wait. What is stir-fry, anyway?” </div>
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The thing about this recipe is, well, there’s no recipe. Except we had pre-boiled potatoes to add in. Other than that, you just harvest what you have, chop it up, and sauté it. Add a little Bragg’s Amino Acid spray and voila, a garden meal. The garlic makes the whole garden fragrant as it cooks, and everyone is hungry, and they love it, a big bowl of vegetables with almost nothing else, and enough for second helpings. </div>
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This time we used: garlic, leeks, purple beans, kale, a tiny piece of broccoli, and the aforementioned potatoes. Wild Child’s instructions to me on how they made the stir-fry mostly involved a meticulous description of how you actually have to touch the kale to wash it because the water alone will not get the dirt off.
</div>Kenna Leehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02059031200420360729noreply@blogger.com0