The paths between three of my raised beds were so overgrown with untamed tomato vines that I had to walk all around the perimeter to get into the garden.  This puts me near the chicken yard which makes one squawky Australorp, the one who’s always eyeballing me, set up an opinionated rant.

I don’t know what it is about that one chicken, but she feels entitled.  I guess I’ve trained her to be that way since I usually relent and go over there and give her something tasty from the garden, like an overripe cucumber or a bug-defiled tomato.

All of which is a long way to say that I pruned the tomato vines, opened up the paths in the garden, can now avoid the judgmental eye of That Chicken, and had several green tomatoes for a late-summer treat:  Fried Green Tomatoes.

There are many variations, including using flour instead of cornmeal.  That’s good, too.  I prefer the crunch of cornmeal.  I also use corn meal mix.  I do this because my husband, a creature of habit, does the grocery shopping and somewhere along the line he got the idea I prefer mix to plain cornmeal and I’m fine with that.  Ordinary cornmeal with a bit of salt would do just great as well.  This is a guideline, adjust amounts depending on how many you intend to feed.  Here’s how I do it:

Fried Green Tomatoes

sliced green tomatoes

corn meal mix

egg(s) and water

salt & pepper

vegetable oil of choice, canola or olive are both good

Wash and slice tomatoes about the same thickness you would for a platter of sliced tomatoes, not too thin and not too thick.

Lightly beat an egg and add about a tablespoon of water.  Blend.

On a plate, mix a quantity of the cornmeal or cornmeal mix with a bit of extra salt and enough pepper to lightly fleck the meal.  Use enough cornmeal to cover the plate to a thickness of about a half an inch.

Heat about a quarter of an inch of oil over medium heat until the corner of a tomato dipped in the oil sizzles enthusiastically but not, say, at an Elvis concert level.  If it sounds like the Beatles on Ed Sullivan, turn it down a good notch.  If the oil is smoking, that’s also too hot.

Dip the tomato slices in the egg and then in the cornmeal, turning to coat both sides.

Place in the oil and brown both sides.  If you are making several successive batches, it’s a good idea to wipe out the skillet between batches to remove the excess cornmeal in the bottom of the pan which will burn and give a scorched flavor to the second batch.  Slosh in fresh oil and let it heat to the right temperature before starting a new batch.

Drain on towels and enjoy hot.  They just aren’t the same leftover.

In discussions of what sets fresh eggs apart from their factory counterparts, you’ll likely hear the word “bloom.”

What exactly is “bloom” and what is it for?

In short, it’s a coating, courtesy of the hen herself, deposited on the outer surface of the shell, which helps protect the contents of the egg from contamination.

Another name for it is “cuticle.”  It is a protein, a mucous secretion of the hen’s cackleberry chute, to get scientific.

It’s necessary because eggshell is permeable, with about 80,000 microscopic pores on the surface of one egg.   Bloom blocks bacteria, etc., from entering the egg and keeps the egg fresh longer.

Factory eggs, among their other issues, have been washed to make them palatable for the public and this removes the bloom.  A coating of mineral oil is substituted to prolong their shelf-life.  Like most man-made interferences, it is unequal to nature’s own.

Now our own homegrown hens’ eggs get dirty sometimes and need to be washed, which leaves us with a sort of Catch-22:  leave the bloom and the surface contaminants can’t penetrate the egg, but they are still there on the outside, looking gross, getting into the egg when you crack it open, getting on your hands when you handle it, and looking really not cool at all sitting on your counter or in the fridge.  Heaven forbid one should present a poopy egg to a friend, family member, or customer.

But, see, the bloom is there, protecting the egg inside . . . You explain and point and nod authoritatively but no, the horror is still frozen on their faces.  And understandably so.

What to do?

The general consensus is that washing dirty eggs is indeed fine.  Best to do it soon before using the eggs to take advantage of the natural protection of bloom for as long as you can, but a washed egg is a lovely egg as well, and much more presentable to the general population.

Use water that is 20 degrees F. warmer than the temperature of the egg itself.  This will prevent thermal cracks from developing in the shell which would shorten the fresh life of the egg.  A vinegar solution or a mild soap followed by a dry towel is fine.  You’re really not trying to get an absolutely aseptic shell, just remove the exterior contaminants that gross people out and might fly into your food when you crack the egg.

Speaking of cracking, chefs and foodies recommend cracking eggs on a flat (or nearly flat) surface for the best, most shell-free result.

Prevention is even better.  Collect eggs soon after they are laid if possible.  Maintain clean bedding and make it nice and deep.  Straw is one good one.  Keep roosting areas up and away from the nesting sites.

And remember, if in doubt, place a suspect egg in a glass of water.  If it floats, it’s past its prime.  If it sinks, it’s likely a good’n.

It sounds very Renaissance Fair, doesn’t it?  Anything with the word “wort” in it does, I think.

I had to look up the word, in fact, for this post, hoping it had a bizarre, archaic meaning, but really it only means herbaceous (non-woody) plant.  Unless you are talking ale, then it means the liquid produced from mashing grains.

St. John’s Wort, in particular, is a medicinal herb.  It doubles as a dyer’s plant, producing a yellow or gold color.  Lots of studies have been conducted to see if it works as a treatment for depression, but the results are often inconclusive and sometimes contradictory.  It’s been used traditionally for a slew of other complaints as well, something I find to be the case for most medicinal herbs.  What this means I hesitate to speculate, but it seems that once a use is found for a plant, it gets tried for many ailments.

If you want to read more about this plant, here’s a general overview.

It grew easily in my garden from seed, but it hasn’t flowered yet.  Hopefully it will and I can get some photos of the yellow blooms.

If you have experience of this plant, let’s hear it!

I ran into a neighbor friend at the market early this summer and she offered to bring me some red okra seeds.

Of course I agreed.

She walked over one day soon thereafter with an envelope with over a dozen nice round seeds.  To help them germinate I put them in ice cube trays, filled the trays with water, and froze them overnight.

The next day I sowed two frosty seed cubes in each hole, covered them, watered, and waited.

It was late in the year to get started, but we have a pretty long growing season here and I think they will have a chance to produce before it gets cool.

They’re about three feet tall now.

I love the red veining and the red stems and buds.

Gardeners crave variety and color.  There’s something so exciting about a plant just a little bit different, or a lot different, especially after we’ve been gardening a few years.

When the seed catalogs appear in January the wild and wonderful cultivars call out my name over the barren tundra of late winter.

Mention “heirloom” and “red” in the same breath and I’m selling my heirlooms to add new plants to the list.

My friend (she of the okra seeds) also shared her recipe for okra fritters.  As soon as my okra produces, I’m making and posting those.  I can’t wait!

Maybe I’ll make them with blue cornmeal . . .

I grew my first tabasco pepper plant last year and made my own tabasco sauce.

It was An Experience.

I loved the sauce, though, (on the second try) and grew another plant this year.  Boy howdy it is a happy plant.  Huge.  If I had two of them I could go into commercial production.  Three and I would have to apply for a hazardous materials permit.

Si, amigos, that is ONE pepper plant.  Uno.

At 30.000 to 50,000 units on the Scoville Scale of heat levels, that’s a lot of firepower.  I should have enough to make tabasco sauce for every He-Man Pepper-Eater on the birthday and Christmas list well into the mid-century.

Do you have He-Man Pepper-Eaters in your family who try to out-hot each other?  They keep a straight face but it’s the beads of perspiration on their foreheads that gives them away.

It’s the modern duel.

Scotch Bonnet peppers at fifty paces.

Not for me, thank you.

I’ll be your second.

Dear Long Suffering Readers,

I *finally* fixed our site navigation! When the owner of the site can’t find anything, then we definitely have a problem.  That search box and I were very close, and it only worked for me if I remembered the exact wording in the title.  I was looking for TL’s blackeyed pea fritter and mistakenly called them “bean cakes.”  Three tries later, I got them.  And I know every post on the site!!!  (All 600?  YIKES)

So clearly, the whole thing was unusable for anyone who didn’t write a few hundred of the posts.

Now, we have that *hover* navigation that divides the tabs into smaller categories.  Go try it out!  And, yes, I categorized all 600 posts yesterday.  Thousands of clicks.  I. Am. Still. Tired.

How many of you read the post title and thought:

“Ah, she’s getting into dyeing plants now.”

If you did, you have now officially earned your Wackadoodle Homesteading/Fiber Arts Certification (WHAC).

Congratulations.

I think.

If you just thought I was angry about something, rest assured you are normal.

It’s actually the former.

Common madder, aka Rubia tinctorum, is a dyer’s plant.  The roots are used to make a lovely red.  I haven’t made dye from it yet, so I don’t have my own photo, but here’s someone else’s to give you the idea:

photo: http://www.welcometohosanna.com/REVELATION/Thyatira.html

So pretty.

I only have a couple of plants and am impatiently waiting the day when I have enough for a respectable harvest for dyeing.  I love this plant, and someone else does, too.

Can you tell someone‘s been munching on the leaves?  It’s a small caterpillar.  I haven’t identified it yet.

It hasn’t killed the plant so far, so I’m trying to co-exist with it, optimistically imagining it’s a lovely rare moth.

Madder is used in traditional medicine, too, for everything from jaundice to melancholy.  Just boil in wine and add honey.

That would make you pink and happy in no time.  Worth a try, anyway.

For purely medicinal purposes, of course.

I appreciate trying to live within one’s means.

What does this have to do with cookies?  My nephew was married last week and, besides the wedding cake, the reception was cookies and punch, supplied by family and friends.

I hope the trend away from the extravagant wedding that starts a couple off with debt or which bankrupts the couple’s parents lasts beyond the recession.  I applaud my nephew and his lovely bride for their decision to keep it simple and sweet (and it was).

That said, there are people, including the mother of the groom, who don’t eat refined sugar and I wanted to give them something to nibble on besides the napkins.  This is what I came up with.  They get their sweetness from pureed golden raisins.  They’re wheat-free as well.  If you want to make them dairy-free, try oil in place of the melted butter.

Oatmeal Raisin Walnut Cookies

makes at least 2 dozen

1 1/2 cups oatmeal

1/2 of a 15 oz. box golden raisins

1/2 lb. walnuts

1/4 cup butter, melted

1 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 tsp. cloves

1/2 tsp. nutmeg

2 tsp. baking powder

pinch salt

1 large egg

This recipe requires a food processor or a food mill.  The oatmeal and walnuts could be done in a blender, but I believe the raisins need the food processor or a food mill to keep you from killing yourself.

Lightly toast the oatmeal in a dry skillet until fragrant.  Place in food processor and process to a coarse flour.  Remove from processor.

Put walnuts in processor and pulse until finely ground.  Remove from processor.

Combine with the oatmeal, spices, baking powder and salt in a large mixing bowl.

Place the raisins in the processor and puree until they form a paste.

Add butter and egg and blend well.

Combine wet and dry ingredients and stir to combine.

Drop by small spoonfuls onto ungreased baking sheet.

Bake in a 325 degree F. oven for 12-14 minutes.  Check after 8-10 minutes because they tend to get extra brown on the bottom very fast.

Remove from cookie sheet and cool.

Huh?

Spil what?

It’s a real thing.

I’ve got some growing in my vegetable garden, right at one end of the pepper patch, not to confuse you–it’s not  in the capsicum family.

It’s its own thing, a medicinal herb I selected because the seed catalog said it was useful for mouth sores, and as I have some extended family with a mouth ulcer problem I popped it onto the seed list this past spring because I wanted to try some medicinals this year.  It is traditionally used for toothache relief and throat and stomach pain.

The catalog didn’t mention it has another distinct quality, as well.

Hoo boy.  It was already mature, flowering, and expanding rapidly when I decided to do a little more research on it and learned it has some interesting nicknames:

Uh, Buzz Buttons?  Electric Buttons?  Szechuan Buttons?  What was going on here?  Apparently it has a numbing, tingling effect as well.

I went out to the garden and stared at it.

I was supposed to chew on one of these flower buds.

I was game.  I tried it.

Nothing much at first.  I was ready to pack it in, and then, wow.  It was like I’d put an Alka-Seltzer tablet in my mouth.  It was the sensation of foaming, without any actual foaming.  Lots of salivating, though.  It was unlike anything else.

The taste isn’t very distinctive, but it’s the sensation that rocks you.  Sort of an icy/salty numb experience, plus the ‘foaming’ I mentioned.  It lasts several minutes.  If you were to use it for toothache pain you’d have to keep popping them every so often.  I can’t speak to its effectiveness for other complaints.  For me it’s more of a novelty.  The leaves produce the same effect, perhaps a bit milder.

Reading more on the subject, I learned they’re used to jazz up salads (and how!), and as a curious additive to fanciful cocktails.  Very easy to grow, bring some to your next party.  There will be a lot of wow’s and whoa’s and raised eyebrows.

Practically Green: Paper towel veto makes smugglers of the menfolk