Making Blood Orange Marmalade

I decided I would try making Blood Orange marmalade. As always, nothing is ever as simple as I expect it will be. And each new venture is a learning experience.

The first challenge turned out to be finding blood oranges. I went to eight stores but only had luck at two. One of the bigger natural food stores in the city told me it was the wrong season. Blood oranges come from Sicily or Spain or more recently are also grown in the US. Mid January, continuing for 3 to 8 weeks, is the only time of year they're available. Six stores wouldn't be carrying them because of the prohibitive cost (up to $2/lb which can be close to a dollar an orange). I finally found a single 2 kg bag at one store and 7 loose oranges at the other. Mission accomplished.

The beautiful carmine red colour of blood oranges is due to anthocyanins, an antioxidant. This in contrast to the red flesh of Cara Cara Navel oranges which is a result of lypocene. The peel is orange but sometimes there is a reddish tint.

Next was choosing a recipe. I always eliminate any recipe that calls for commercial pectin (which requires more sugar than natural pectins and can have less taste of the fruit used). The number of recipes was overwhelming with a great variation in approach. I found the explanation for the different approaches in my mother's Time Life book on Preserving. There are two contrasting styles to making marmalade with equally distinct results.

The first marmalade has firm and chunky fruit and the cooking process is relatively short, resulting in  chewy fruit which contrasts with the smooth jelly.

The second marmalade requires two days of preparation. The fruit is whole or sliced and soaks in water overnight. The longer process makes for tender peel which is more a part of the jelly rather than distinct from it.

I don't have fond memories of bitter orange marmalade with thick fruit so I used the second approach, slicing the oranges and soaking them overnight. The ingredients I used came from The Art of Preserving put out by Williams- Sonoma. When perusing recipes I had noticed one which started by making a natural pectin from Granny Smith apples. I didn't do that but I did open a jar of crabapple pectin I had made last summer. Blood oranges have less pectin that Seville oranges. Using a natural pectin allows for less sugar but there is nothing more frustrating than a preserve that doesn't set. So my crabapple pectin was insurance.

Clockwise from top left;                                                                                                                                                                      freshly squeezed orange juice, sliced blood oranges soaking in water,  lemon juice, seeds, crabapple pectin 

Freshly squeezed orange juice (I used one blood orange and one navel) and lemon juice are added to the measured sliced oranges and soaking water. This mixture is boiled down and then the sugar is added ( 3/4 cup for each cup of fruit and liquid). Then the mixture is boiled until the jelling temperature is reached. Different reports gave the timing anywhere from 7 minutes to 40 and the jelling temperature anywhere from 220F to 225F. I guess this is where the art vs the science comes in.

Everything boiling down with seeds ( for pectin) suspended in cheesecloth

I made two batches. Both have a warm orangey red colour with good consistency to the jelly, not stiff but not runny either. A taste of sun for the bleak days of winter.

Blood Orange Marmalade

the wonders of winter

Hwy 7 seems to be some kind of natural border - north of it there is guaranteed to be lots of snow or blackflies - depending on the season. Right now the snow is well above the top of rubber boots.

Nature's unerring beauty - here the complementary colours, red and green

It is great for back country cross country skiing - at least once the trail is broken. There is already enough snow to cover the tops of vegetation in the fields and most of the rocks and brush in the paths through the woods.

Thea figures out the snow is more shallow on the east side of the hedgerow, Scylla sticks to the trail

Establishing the trail through the woods

Back at the ranch, nyger seed has once again proven itself to be the absolute best kind of bird seed.

Purple finches and juvenile gold finches discover the nyger seed

The suet and mixed wild beed seed attract chickadees, bluejays and woodpeckers - all nice birds to see

Downy woodpecker at the suet

 but the nyger seed brings the less usual birds; juvenile finches, purple finches and, for the first time for us, evening grosbeaks.

Blue Jay and Evening Grosbeak

Evening Grosbeak and Purple Finch

Small flock of Evening Grosbeaks

On Dec. 30 there was a beautiful moon just disappearing in the west as the sun rose in the east.

Moon around 7:30 AM

And the sun rising in the east at the same time

All Cows Eat Grass

Anyone who ever took piano lessons knows that All Cows Eat Grass, ACEG, are the spaces of the bass clef.

But in this less simple and quaint day and age, do they? I have a beef - having just bought some pasture raised beef made me think about all those descriptions of meat we consumers see: Certified Organic, Naturally Raised, Hormone and Antibiotic Free, Grass Fed, Grass Finished, Pasture Raised. What do they all mean?

For starters most of the information available is American.  From the consumer's point of view neither the USDA nor Agriculture Canada has set industry standards which would define the labelling.

However there are many other sources of information on the commercial beef industry. If you like non fiction there is Michael Pollan's Omnivore's Dilemma which, through its focus on the corn industry, has much to say condemning the finishing of cows with corn in feedlots. This Just Ain't Normal, Folks is Joel Salatin's perspective as a self proclaimed “grass farmer”. For fiction I loved Ruth L. Ozeki's 1999 novel, My Year of Meats. And a documentary that has been around awhile but I only recently saw is Food, Inc.

There are probably three questions for any consumer of beef;

What is the taste, quality and characteristics of the beef I'm considering buying?

What was the quality of life for the animal?

Is the farming practice that produced this livestock sustainable?

Almost all cows spend their early life grazing in a pasture. (Although a long time ago I did buy beef from a farmer whose cows were always in the barn. When I asked him why I never saw them in the pasture he told me because they were never there. I asked him if they didn't miss being outside and his reply was that they wouldn't miss what they'd never known! I couldn't quite fathom the idea of cattle who had never ever been outside.) But other than that hopefully unique situation, all cows do eat grass until the period before slaughter (usually 90 to 160 days). This is when the cows are finished (or fattened). It is at this point things start to become a little more complicated.

The first question introduced the various terms we are confronted with when we go to buy beef.

If there is no descriptive label and it is for sale at a supermarket then the beef is undoubtedly from  an animal which was finished at a feedlot on a diet of grain, probably corn.

Now for those terms:

Certified Organic means the feed is certified organic. It could be grass, hay or grain and the cow could be sent to a feedlot for finishing. The term describes only the feed, not the kind of life the cow led nor the finishing process.

Naturally Raised really means nothing.

Hormone and Antibiotic Free means exactly that and nothing else. Like Certified Organic it describes only what the cow is (not) ingesting and nothing to do with its life or finishing.

Grass Fed is meant for us to feel the cow has spent its whole life on the pasture. But many Grass Fed cows are actually grain finished.

Grass Finished Cows have lived on grass exclusively but it could be hay or sileage and doesn't mean that the cows have lived on a pasture and without confinement.

Pasture Finished means the cows have eaten grass and hay exclusively and have spent their life without confinement, grazing in a pasture.

The kind of life a cow has led has a direct influence on the taste and quality of the meat it produces. The more the animal has exercised the more muscle it will have developed. The nutrient profile while on pasture would include Omega 3 fatty acids, CLA (Conjugated Linoleic Acid), zinc, iron, potassium and other trace minerals. These nutrients that all cows will have while pasturing decline rapidly when the cow is switched to a grain diet and confined with little movement (in a feedlot).

A cow that has spent its life on a pasture rich in varied grasses and legumes, eating as a ruminant is designed to, clearly has the best possible quality of life. When livestock is raised that way then the farming practices generally are sustainable. It is in the farmer's best interest to rotate the livestock and maintain or even increase both fertility and diversity in the pastures. When beef is pasture finished then the timing of finishing is crucial - the last period of the cow's life needs to be spent in a pasture that is lush and verdant for the beef to be both as nutritional and tasty as possible. So finishing happens primarily in the fall and perhaps also in the late spring.

Having answered the three questions if you decide to buy pasture raised beef then the next hurtle is to learn how to cook meat that is clearly a different kettle of fish from the melt-in-the-mouth or, perhaps Paplike texture, of feedlot beef. Pasture raising cows takes longer for them to reach the desired weight so the animals are older. They are moving freely and muscle develops more than with a confined animal.

The general rule is to cook pasture raised beef at a lower temperature. I admit that I'm still experimenting with how to cook the pricier cuts. Maybe the old practice of larding a roast makes sense since that approach comes from a pre-feedlot, corn finishing time when all beef was pasture finished.

But I have no doubts about the superior flavour of the cheaper, tougher cuts that need to be braised: short ribs, shanks and stewing beef. I like to use a heavy cast iron Dutch Oven. The meat needs to be browned in olive oil on the stove top and then removed from the pot. Next a mirepoix or soffritto of diced onions, carrots and garlic are sauteed in the same pan at a low temperature with the lid on. After a few minutes the braising liquid is added and the brown bits scraped into the sauce. Then the beef is returned to the pot. Bring the liquid to a boil, cover and throw in a low oven of about 275 and forget for hours. The other nice thing about these cuts is you can really cook from the pantry, varying it every time according to what is at hand.  The diced vegetables can also include parsnips or celery for example. The braising liquid can be beef or chicken stock, tomatoes, white or red wine or beer. And you can add ingredients like oven roasted tomatoes, orange zest and orange juice and various herbs. Incredibly versatile and very very tasty.

Meatloaf made from the ground beef of a pasture raised cow is best kept to a few ingredients so the intense flavour of the beef can shine. In this case I sauteed bread crumbs in olive oil and garlic.

I added a farm fresh egg and freshly ground pepper and combined the ingredients.

It baked at 275 for about an hour. Accompanied by mashed potatoes, home made ketchup and a winter coleslaw - the ultimate comfort food.

A Farms At Work workshop on Pasture Raised Livestock at Kingsholm Farms

On Sunday I decided, with my newfound leisure time, to attend a workshop sponsored by Farms At Work, a wonderful organization whose mission is to promote healthy farming in eastern Ontario, at Kingsholm Farms. There were 28 registrants, two representatives from Farms at Work, Kevin King the host farmer and owner of Kingsholm Farms and his farm manager, Will. At the end of the afternoon there was a cameo appearance from Kevin's wife, Margo, bearing homebaked cookies, coffee and hot chocolate.

The tone was set from the very beginning when we started a little late.  Kevin needed to make an emergency delivery of fresh water to some of his cows in a far off pasture. As a group we sported an impressive array of warm clothing; everything from down coats, wool jackets and the latest from outdoors equipment stores to every possible kind of winter boot from Baffins to those green rubber boots from Canadian Tire, with and without the felt liners. But after standing awhile in the cold and wind, toques came out, feet started stamping and arms waving to and fro in an effort to generate a little heat. I think at this point Will took pity and offered to start the tour.  Kevin would take over after the emergency drop was made.

Farms at Work had prepared some questions and topics they thought we might like addressed. But once Kevin arrived it quickly became clear that was not the kind of event this would be. Questions served, not so much to provide specific answers, as to guide Kevin's thoughts in a certain direction. This was obvious when he was asked about the ideal ratio of pigs per acre. His answer was he was not a numbers man. Instead, his knowledge comes from a lifetime of listening and observing life on the farm and that was how we too would learn. This approach to learning was very familiar to me - when I was a flute student I attended a number of master classes given by European flautists. Here too learning took place through a kind of osmosis by being in the presence of an accomplished professional. You watched and listened and hoped to absorb some of the master's knowledge and passion.

This was a workshop for people who are interested in raising livestock on pasture. But looking at Kevin, a beefy man with great smile lines and an open face, dressed in his Carhartts,  jacket unzipped the whole time and no gloves, I had the distinct impression that the first question for each of us had nothing to do with livestock. Rather, could we survive standing in the cold for the whole afternoon? I, unlike most of the others, have no aspirations to raise livestock. I had heard that the farm was beautiful and was a fantastic example of sustainable agriculture and that was enough to draw me.

Kevin preaching to the converted

When asked about marketing and social media Kevin made it clear that this was Will's area of expertise, "Where there's a Will there's a way". But it was also clear that for Will, Kevin is King. The mutual affection and regard they have for each other was apparent over and over. The relationship seems to be the perfect complement of skills and personality types.

We started the tour by visiting the pigs. Kingsholm keeps two types, Large Black English and Tamworths.

The Large Black English is a heritage breed. It is aptly named as it is humungous. An illustration of the kind of approach used at Kingsholm Farms was illustrated by the story of one of the sows. She had gotten sick and they tried all kinds of solutions. Nothing had an effect that lasted more than a few days. So they finally decided to allow her to roam freely. Given the opportunity to forage at will she instinctively chose the foods she needed for a full recovery - problem solved. A sort of variation on "Physician, heal thyself".

Large Black English sow

The Tamworths have a beautiful red coat. They are the most direct descendants of native European stock which in turn descended from wild boars. The large male was in heat - who knew males were capable of this? - perhaps a case of too much information - but it did explain the pronounced and peculiar smell emanating from his direction.

The male Tamworth expressing his sexual frustration

And the sows lining up for his attentions

Next we strolled up the laneway to the pasture where the cows were grazing. The view was exquisitely beautiful - we were at the crest of a hill overlooking valleys edged with hedgerows, with a wetland at the bottom, the whole vista either sunlit or striped with the long shadows of a late afternoon fall sun. Kevin describes his cows as Shaver cows. Dr. Donald Shaver experimented in the 1960's with crossing different breeds of cows. He imported some Lincoln Reds from England and found that when they were included in the crossbreeding the results were consistently the best. The Lincoln Red can be traced back to Nordic invaders and is thought perhaps to have come originally from the Russian steppes. Because cattle breeders in East Anglia had been particularly dedicated to preserving the purity of the Lincoln Red lines it was possible to import cows with a sound genetic profile. Shaver cows always have Lincoln Reds as one of their key lines.

Shaver cows foraging on the crest of the hill

The bull, Max, is a Red Poll.

Max, the bull, gets his back scratched - a place he can't reach himself

As is so often the case, much of the most interesting nuggets came as a result of informal chatting as we walked along the lane. Kevin observed that when customers and chefs come to him they remain loyal customers. But when he has courted restaurants they quite often abandon the relationship after the initial courtship is over. I also found it interesting that one of his most faithful restaurants, at the Woodlawn Inn, takes no issue with frozen meat. Kevin said he once heard David Suzuki preface one of his talks by saying, "If you drove here tonight in an SUV you haven't thought two minutes about the environment." For Kevin the same response applies to frozen pasture finished meat. If an animal is finished in the pasture rather than the feedlot then there is a specific time it needs to be slaughtered. Hence meat needs to be frozen (or only available once or twice a year). Period.

In response to a question about coyotes, on this farm, they get to feast on the meat and bone scraps from their table. Dinner is served at the farthest corner of the property. I think many of us were hoping we could come back in the next life as Kingsholm Farm coyotes. So Will made it clear that the feast only gets served every couple of months or so. Kevin did have numbers here; on average each 100 acres can support a mating pair of coyotes.

The tour ended up at the new barn erected by a crew of Mennonites - and a crane operator!

The End of the Gardening Season

 I have done my last harvest of the season. It is always hard to tell when that will be. Mild wet weather can mean the fall greens go on and on and conversely an early hard frost can bring an abrupt and unanticipated halt. This year things have certainly slowed down the past few weeks but the season has really lasted a long time.  I have missed working as intensively outside as the weather has cooled. But there have been greens to harvest and manure to spread and so fall has really just eased into winter.

With the cold and snow comes the opportunity and time for leisurely walks and other activities.

Wild turkeys had almost disappeared because of habitat loss but were reintroduced about twenty years ago. They are now thriving in Central and Eastern Ontario. Some farmers consider them a menace to their crops and are calling for a cull. But the Ministry of Natural Resources maintains that they only eat what has already fallen to the ground. A cull would also inevitably include hens which would endanger them once again.

An impressive flock of wild turkeys 

There is really much to be enjoyed in the woods this time of year: the particular kind of silence (especially now that there is a lull in hunting season) that allows you to hear the snow falling, the thick layer of fallen leaves underfoot, the silhouette of hardwoods stripped bare. Except for the beeches, whose understated tan leaves can't compete during the riot of colour earlier in the autumn, but now punctuate the monochrome of the woods.

There are outcroppings of granite bedrock with ferns and even trees growing in the  crevices between boulders.

Trees well used by sapsackers are more easily noticed .

Also, unfortunately, are examples of "witch's broom",  an indication of stress in trees and woody shrubs.  It is easily recognized as a mass of shoots originating from a single point which resembles a witch's broom. The cause can be environmental or biological.

Witches' broom

But the really exciting and heartening sighting on Sunday was a river otter. In the low light I didn't even realize at first what it was.  Once I realized it was an otter I was amazed at how close it allowed me to get before plunging into the water. I decided to carry on walking and see if I could see it again later on my return home.

As I ventured further in to the woods I came across the remains of an old sugaring operation.

The support for the stove trays for boiling off the syrup rests on the cast  iron doors.

The stack of wood to fuel the fire looks more like a rock outcropping at first glance

On my way back I swung by the creek and sure enough the otter was back up on the ice at the same spot. It would be nice to think that this watershed is a permanent home to a family of river otters.

A curious river otter

Heirloom Shelling Beans

I have a weakness for growing heirloom shelling beans. I think it's because they're so beautiful dried and stored in glass mason jars - their tremendous variety in shape and colouring.

But it is a bit ironic that something as proletarian as dried beans should be so much work to cultivate. The season has to be long enough for the pods to dry on the plants. Then they need to be picked and shelled, and laid out to dry before storing. Next is skimming off the best seeds for saving for next year's stock. After all that the number of beans seems so stingy. But by the time next June comes I have forgotten all the work and can't wait to start the whole process again.

Fresh beans sorted and drying on a screen

Included with shelling beans is the Borlotti or Taylor's Horticultural bean which is intended to be eaten fresh. Because the pods don't need to have dried these are usually the first to harvest. The beans are white ovals with pink dashes.

Borlotti or Taylor's Horticultural Broad Bean

This year I grew about sixteen heirloom shelling beans - three of them new to me.

The first of these is Orca, also called Calypso or Ying Yang. But I think Orca is the best of the names - the distinctive markings in black and white are so reminiscent of Killer Whales.

Orca beans

Then there is Red Swan which is actually a red snap bean! Since it was new to me and I was too busy to look it up I didn't realize I could harvest it at the snap stage. But that is fine because I really needed to save seed to increase my stock. Next year...

The third new one to me is Blue Jay; a rare heirloom. It is an oblong deep navy blue bean with white splotches. These three new seeds are from Urban Harvest.

Blue Jay beans on the left and Cannellini on the right

There are two beans which I got from Terra Edibles years ago and are no longer in the catalogue. So I'm glad I've saved seed every year. One is Cranberry Pole, a big round, deep red seed which grows in creamy white pods on climbing plants which can reach 10 feet in height. This bean was cultivated by Native Americans in what is now Maine. It is considered very rare. A famous "bean collector", John Withee, read about it in a gardening catalogue from the 1700's and ultimately discovered it growing in the garden of a Mr. Taylor in Steep Fall, Maine. And it really does look like a cranberry.

Cranberry Pole Beans

The other is Vermont Cranberry, a pioneer staple from New England. The pods are pale green streaked with fuschia and the beans are dusty rose with darker red streaking.

Vermont Cranberry

Jacob's Cattle is one of the better known heirloom beans. Also called Trout and Apaloosa, it has many different legends attached to it. Slow Food USA tells the story of how it is thought to have been a gift from the Passamaquoddy Indians of Maine to Joseph Clark, the first white child born Lubec, Maine. Other sources say the name refers to its distinctive splotches resemble  those of Hereford cattle.

Jacob's Cattle 

Black Valentine is an old bean dating from the early 1800's. It has shiny black beans and can be used
at the snap stage.

Dragon's Tongue is a bush bean originally from the Netherlands. It is a butter bean with cream and purply red striping on the pods.

Rattlesnake Snap is a pole bean with dark green pods and purple stripes. The bean itself is a rather nondescript beige. Another of the pole beans is Violetta di Trionfo, a purple podded French type of snap bean with a stark white bean.

I grow a very prolific little red bean called Carmina. When fresh the beans are the most beautiful rich pink. When they dry they turn a deep red colour.

Carmina beans after drying for a week on the left, freshly shelled on the right

There is another very prolific bean which I grow. It just seemed to appear one year. And so has no official name (that I know). It is not particularly striking, being a white oval with beige/brown splotches. But it has gained my affection - it seems to be reminiscent of a Dickensian orphan - proud and determined. As wonderful as their appearance is, so are the names of so many of these beans. I hate to admit that for me this little bean has just become "Brown Mottled".

My "Brown Mottled"

thoughts for the last day of October

One of the memories from my time in high school that I share with my mother is of my Grade 12 English teacher who famously said, "Women always resort to speaking in cliches". This rather contentious statement brought my mother and I closer because of our shared outrage - on two counts. Not only was it denigrating and incorrect as far as the implied incapacity of women to be articulate and in their own words. But we both felt that cliches, proverbs and idioms all had their place enriching spoken language. I guess in this respect "the apple didn't fall far from the tree".

But I'm "putting the cart before the horse".

 Now that it's the last day of October it feels like the long haul of winter is upon us - long days spent indoors with more time for reflection and contemplation.

It occurs to me that certain activities are particularly rich sources for the vernacular; war comes to mind - think "nosedive", "SNAFU"and "blitz"(krieg) from WWII, "brainwashing" from the Korean War and the Gulf War gave us "collateral damage". All these terms have entered the lexicon and are used in non-military contexts, understood by all. Another fertile area, more for proverbs and idioms, is agriculture. Like the military terms, they were rather literal originally, but have been transformed over time to have much more general applications quite separate from their agrarian origins.

At the beginning of each gardening season, as I turn the soil and then plant row after row of seeds, I am reminded of how I'm supposed to "reap what I sow". And my response is "if only". Take the hotboxes for example. After constructing them, filling them with manure, soil and compost, raising the peppers and eggplants from seed and finally transplanting them, it was almost all for nought. The chipmunks have had a population explosion. And they decided they had discovered their own personal "low hanging fruit" in the hotboxes. Virtually all the plants were gnawed off at the surface. I'm not one to "cry over spilt milk". So I wondered if I could reinvent the hotboxes as cold frames - may as well "kill two birds with one stone". A couple of weeks ago I planted them with dozens of lettuce seedlings and covered the tops with old windows. Last weekend I saw that the chipmunks had dug new burrows in front of the hotboxes and then tunnelled up right through them to the surface and eaten all the lettuces. It was definitely time to wage war!  But I know that's a little like "shutting the barn door after the horses are out".

Since no pesticides, insecticides or herbicides are used in the garden it may seem a little inconsistent to some that I want to reduce my surplus chipmunk population.  I suspect these same people may have no problem with getting rid of slugs and earwigs or even setting mouse traps. While it may have been more prudent to keep my lethal intentions to myself "I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb".

The hotboxes were not a success but this season did have some triumphs - it was a great year for tomatoes and beans. Greens were difficult all spring and summer but finally did well this fall. I've gardened long enough to know every year is different and "you can never count your chickens before they hatch".

The CSA is not my only source of income -  I could "never put all my eggs in one basket".

When I'm wearing my other hat as a private music teacher, my students will occasionally play something at an unbearably slow tempo. I often tell them it is "as slow as molasses in January".  Never having heard the expression they both get the point and, rather than taking offence, are often amused. I guess "you can catch more flies with honey than vinegar".

As I look out the window and see all the rain and remember the halcyon days of summer, I forget the heat and drought, the aches and pains, the disappointments and frustrations. I guess "faraway pastures are always greener".

I'm thinking that all this rain has given me a bit of cabin fever and made me a little silly. I'm wondering if other people may feel the same. I guess I'm hoping that "what's good for the goose is good for the gander".

Oh well, all is just "grist for the mill"...

Trick or Treat ! (Not sure it's either - but as my mother says, "Nothing ventured, nothing gained".)

Happy Hallowe'en!