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Baywatch

I went on a work road trip this week, to Hawkes Bay, to report a story for a New Zealand magazine.

Hawkes Bay is a region about three hours drive east of Disco Farm, on the opposite coast. I’ve been millions of times, because it has great wine and restaurants and beaches and I lived there when I was first born, but I’ve never been back to visit in Autumn. It was beautiful. Cold, but beautiful. Like this:

The vines at Black Barn.

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Last Dance

Me and the Mitfords are in mourning here at Disco Farm after the news that Donna Summer died today.

Donna on the radio.

 

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Choke & Hold

I did a bit of research on Jerusalem artichoke recipes after that big box of them arrived, and soon realised they all had one thing in common: cream. I don’t produce cream, obviously, as I don’t have any cows, so if I wanted to make the most of those sunchokes, I needed to get my hands on some. So, on Sunday I traded half a dozen Mitford eggs for a bottle of cream. And then I made Jamie Oliver’s baked Jerusalem artichokes.

It was super yummy and umami-ish, which was just as well as the peeling of the knobbly chokes took forever and wasn’t helped by the ten burnt fingertips I was sporting (self-inflicted from stupidly picking up a hot baking dish). I served it with the first leaves of kale I’ve harvested from the garden and the bitter greens (sauteed in the pan and finished with a splash of raspberry vinegar) were the perfect foil for the rich gratin.

 

Sunchokes and sauteed kale.

By the way, I haven’t had any meat for about 10 days and I haven’t missed it or craved it at all. That’s not to say that should someone walk past me with a bloody piece of sirloin I wouldn’t wrestle them to the death for it. But, it’s not bad going I reckon. In other news, I’ve also put on weight since going self-sufficient. It’s annoying, but it’s no surprise: I was also the only Westerner I know to backpack around India for three months and actually put on weight while doing it.

Anyway, back to the topic at hand. Here’s how to make the chokes:

Jamie Oliver’s Baked Jerusalem Artichokes, Breadcrumbs, Thyme and Lemon

  • 285 ml of double cream
  • juice of 1 lemon
  • 2 cloves of garlic, peeled and finely chopped
  • 1 handful of fresh thyme, leaves picked and chopped
  • 3 handfuls of grated Parmesan cheese (I had some in the fridge)
  • salt and pepper
  • 1 kg Jerusalem artichokes, peeled and sliced
  • 2 handfuls of breadcrumbs (I had some a friend had given me and just ripped up a few slices because I couldn’t be buggered getting out the food processor. I know, lazy.)
  • olive oil
  • Preheat oven to 220 degrees celsius/425 fahrenheit.
  • In a bowl, mix cream, lemon juice, garlic, half the thyme, and most of the Parmesan. Add salt and pepper.
  • Throw in the chokes, mix well, and tip the whole lot into a baking dish.
  • Mix the breadcrumbs with the thyme and Parmesan and some more salt and pepper. Sprinkle over the chokes and drizzle with olive oil.
  • Bake in the oven for about 30 minutes.

Dirty Diana

I was right, Pam did go off the lay so she could use her time more wisely. Instead of sitting on a boiling hot egg all day long, she’s taken up a new hobby: trying to get her sisters to come over to the dark side with her.

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All Choked Up

Look what arrived in the post today:

A jumble of Jersualem artichokes.

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Off Like A Rocket

I opened a new bottle of parsnip wine this week and it was awful. It’s gone off, just in time for my self-sufficiency.

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A Week of It

Week one of self-sufficiency is going suprisingly seamlessly. It helps that friends have dropped off soup, salad, and a container of coconut fudge (that’s not cheating, right?). And it means I’ve barely had to reach into the freezer.

I even survived a trip to the Food Show in Wellington without spending a cent, although I did nibble on several taste-test bites of guacamole, pita crisps, venison, and a tiny cup of hot choocolate (that’s not cheating, right?).

It also helps that I’ve been able to make dishes like this:

Patatas Frittata.

 

This was a simple potato and green pepper frittata, served with salad greens out of the garden. There was nothing complicated or high falutin’ about it, but as I ate it I did marvel that it tasted lovely despite every single ingredient having been created entirely by me. Well, not entirely: I topped the frittata with a few anchovies (I had a can of those in the pantry), but sans anchovies it would have been just as delicious. And completely homegrown. Not bad considering seven or eight months ago I’d never had a veggie garden or made a meal that I’d grown. Here’s how to make it with your own handmade or store-bought ingredients.

Disco Farm Frittata

  • a handful of potatoes, cubed
  • 1/2 a green pepper, chopped
  • 1 onion, chopped
  • 4 eggs
  • olive oil
  • a handful of anchovies
  • salt and pepper
  • Heat some olive oil in the pan and add the potato cubes. Cook them until they are a bit brown, but not crispy. Tip them out of the pan and into a bowl and set them aside.
  • Put the pan back on the heat and add the pepper and onions (there should still be a slick of oil in the pan). Cook for a few minutes until they soften. Tip them out of the pan and into the bowl with the potatoes.
  • Break eggs into another bowl, add salt and pepper (bearing in mind that the anchovies will add plenty of salt), and beat the eggs with a fork. Add beaten eggs to the veggies and mix up.
  • Add mix to the pan and cook until nice and brown on the bottom. Cook the top side by flipping the frittata, or by sticking the pan (which will need to be ovenproof) into the oven, under the grill for a few minutes.
  • Serve with salad greens.

Winners and Losers

Victory is mine – I’ve successfully de-clucked Pam. Yesterday, after 36 hours off the nest and a few hoses applied to her lady parts, she came right.

I actually can’t believe it: Yes it’s taken me days to do it, but I was girding my loins to do battle with her for the foreseeable future after friends helpfully divulged that it can take months to de-cluck. I think she possibly heard me threaten her with my cousin Elise’s suggestion, ice cubes in the nest, and decided to capitulate. Or she’s just regrouping and spending her time thinking of other ways to f**k with me.

 

The new and improved Pamela Mitford.

Pump Up the Jam

I did it. I managed to keep my sticky mitts off the fresh feijoas long enough to make some jam. On the same day, I made another batch of tomato sauce, finished an article for a New Zealand magazine, went to the library to do some research and went to the post office, where everyone in the queue except me was in their pyjamas (seriously, how hard is it to put clothes on to go out?) – I’m a machine!

Jammy dodgers.

I’m going to add my jam, which I made from the always-fab Ripe cookbook, to fruit crumbles, and muffins. It’s sweet and really zingy thanks to the ginger and would be lovely with salty butter on homemade bread (if I had any homemade bread).

Ripe’s Feijoa and Ginger Jam

  • 750g peeled feijoas
  • 750g sugar
  • 3 cm piece of fresh ginger, grated
  • Roughly chop the feijoa flesh.
  • Put it in a large saucepan, put the saucepan on a medium heat, and stir for about 20 minutes until the pulp starts to break down.
  • Add the sugar and the ginger and gently boil for another 20 minutes. (I actually boiled it for about 40 minutes because it took that long to cook down enough to set.) The jam is ready when the mixture has thickened. to be sure, drop a spoonful on a sauce, push it with your finger, and if it wrinkles, it’s ready.

 

Put A Sock In It

Remember how proud I was of my gumboots when I first got them? Now the weather’s cold, I’m just as thrilled with my gumboot socks.

Feet to make a farmer proud.

Who knew that you could buy socks specially made to be worn inside gumboots? My aunt (the Domestic Goddess) did. She gave these to me for Christmas and they are my new best friends on frosty mornings. They have thick, padded bottoms and come up nice and high. Best of all, at the top, ‘Red Band’, the brand of gumboot that all farmers wear, is printed. When I look down at them, I feel like a real country girl.