Homestead Bartering

It sounds like a bit of a crazy hippie idea, but bartering is an important part of homesteading.

Cash is sometimes hard to come by  because many homesteading families like ours choose to live on less income. In a city, everyone doesn't have the space to make everything a homestead can produce so we share. In lieu of real money, I can trade the use of tools, home canned goods, produce in season, writing and social media services and private cooking classes for things I want.

How We Barter

Sometimes I send out a call for things we need via Twitter, Facebook, or friends. Other times, I notice people with a need and make an offer.

We negotiate a little bit to be sure that everyone feels that they are entering into a fair deal. Barter is casual for me; thus far I've only relied on personal communication as a contract.

I work hard to hold up my end of the deal and then some. I always try to exceed the expectations of people I trade with because I hope to maintain good relationships.

What We Barter

The cider press is something I frequently offer to others. I've been paid in good company, excess cider, and laundry detergent.

I will almost always work for food. Occasionally I trade blog post reviews for food samples (always disclosed, of course). Last spring, I staffed the Swainway booth at the Clintonville Farmer's Market for a flat of someday-food: produce seedlings. I trained on Section 8 Yakitorium's grill in exchange for boats of delicious Japanese food.

I traded homegrown and homemade food for the new Hounds in the Kitchen logo design by Allie Lehman. Cliff Adams of LinKen Web Development is assisting with the design of the new site in exchange for cooking lessons. I can't wait to show you all this bartered work!

Wanna barter?

Make me an offer! Trading is more personal and fun than cash retail.

PS. Happy Martin Luther King Day. Today we'll do our usual creating, living and eating with Dr. King's message of peace and tolerance in mind. We'll read our copy of My Brother Martin and listen to this, my favorite protest song for kids:

Y'all Come!

I know I always brag about how many cool things are going on in Columbus. Tell me if it's getting old. But seriously, one can never be bored here! Here are a few events coming up for those who enjoy life, food, and gardening:

Nurtur the Salon Makeover Contest - Nominate someone deserving to receive a full makeover at Aveda salon Nurtur in Upper Arlington. I am a judge so I can't nominate or be nominated but I can think of tons of people who deserve special treatment. Entries are low and you only have until January 25th to nominate.

Central Ohio Food Forum meets again on this Monday at Wild Goose Creative for eat by Sassafras Bakery at 5:30 and discussion at 6:30 pm.

Trio of Trucks class - Hills Market is holding a class with cooks from Hot Pita, Pitabilities, and Kolache Republic this coming Tuesday at 6:30 pm. An hour of instruction plus 3 courses and beer for just $25? I secured my ticket today! Call 614.846.3220 to do the same. Fresh Street Festival pop-up - FreshStreet and Section 8 Yakitorium are two of my favorite restaurants in town because they serve absolutely unique food. James Beard chef Jonathon Sawyer agrees and he invited the Fresh Street team to come up to Cleveland for a one-night-only restaurant. I am thrilled to be heading up there to work the yakitori grill with them on February 2. Tickets to the event, which include Thunderkiss coffee, crepes, yakitori, and more, are only $42 and selling fast. Find all the details and order tickets online. Art in the Garden - Local Matters is hosting an amazing series of gardening workshops starting with Art in the Garden Jan. 21st from 12-2pm at Godman Guild. Are you interested in adding some art to your gardens? Join talented local artists, Melissa Vogley Woods and Elena Harvey Collins and start your projects, meet other growers/artists and share a delicious lunch. RSVP to these free events to Trish@local-matters.org.

What other awesome events are going on in January and February?

Meyer Lemon Marmalade {Recipe}

When I finished making candied Meyer lemons, I couldn't toss the remaining syrup. Lightly lemon flavored, I tried stirring it into a cocktail but it was too thick. Jam-like already, all signs pointed to marmalade. I chopped ten Meyer lemons from my surprise windfall from Green B.E.A.N. into tiny bits, carefully removing the central membrane and seeds. I simmered them with the syrup, water, and seeds in a cheesecloth bundle until the rind softened and the jam set up. I felt like the marmalade lacked sweetness and added vanilla bean plus a bit more sugar to smooth out that side of the flavor profile.

The resulting trio of quarter pints, plus a nearly full quarter pint in the fridge, represent my first home-canned goods of 2012. It feels great to be putting up again, though I bet these jars will vanish before I complete another canning project!

[amd-zlrecipe-recipe:5]

Added to Simple Lives Thursday 78.

The Lemon Meringue Pie Test

If there were a Homemakers Award system with a Home Baking merit badge, lemon meringue pie would be the final exam. This diner dessert requires mastery of a flaky crust, no-fall meringue, and tempered egg filling. These elements must be managed in quick succession so that they come together for a final bake before sogging the crust. Then, the whole thing must chill before service just enough that beads of moisture do not form on the meringue. In my first sitting for the lemon meringue exam, I failed.

First, the sides of my all-butter crust slumped during the blind baking stage. I deduced that the oven was not hot enough. A second crust in a hotter oven retained its shape.

I read the recipe for the filling a half dozen times. The process starts by dissolving cornstarch and sugar into solution and then one tempers egg yolks into the pot. Off the heat, the recipe calls for adding lemon juice and butter before pouring it into the shell.

This all sounded a little fishy to me - every lemon meringue pie I've eaten tastes like the filling is lemon curd and this cornstarch solution isn't part of lemon curd. Yet I persisted. I emptied our cornstarch jar with just a little less than the recipe called for but the yolks tempered beautifully. I timed every step and poured the 'isn't-that-a-little-runny' filling into the crust just as egg whites came to a stiff peak in the mixer.

I scraped the meringue over top, learning that why a piping bag would make that step much more efficient. Again, I followed the recipe to a T, spreading the meringue to touch each edge. I carefully transfered the pie to the oven.

Top browned, I removed the pie, noticing the top quaking like a leaf on a rippling stream. When would that filling set up? Perhaps in the cooling. The pie sat at room temperature and then on our chilly porch for four hours.

Carrying it over to friends', the filling was still a running river. When it was time to serve, our lovely hostess presented a knife. I asked for a spoon.

Of course, because the filling never set, the crust was a soggy mess too. The flavors were all good, so we ate the pie soup. Lil consumed only the meringue top to her piece - a choice I can't fault, as it was the only truly successful part of the dish. We forgot the delightful candied lemon garnish which could have pulled the pie into passing territory.

Someday I'll attempt making lemon meringue pie again. Until then, if you are looking for your Homemakers Award, I recommend anything but this recipe.

When Life Hands You Meyer Lemons, Candy Them {Recipe}

After sipping my homemade limoncello last week, I decided I hadn't had enough of this season's Meyer lemons. I ordered another half dozen from Green B.E.A.N. delivery. When I opened my box I found not six but eighteen petite yellow lemons. I immediately contacted customer service and offered to return them. The quick response: "We can't take them back, can you use them?"

Oh can I? When life hands me Meyer lemons, I feel very lucky indeed.

I started with candied Meyer lemons. I spent 30 minutes focused with a sharp knife slicing thin strips of lemon and picking out the seeds.

Then I simmered them in sugar syrup until the rind turned translucent, enjoying the sweet summery scent as it wafted through the house. Finally, I moved the slices to a drying rack to drain the excess syrup.

Unlike the failure of a lemon meringue pie, candied lemons are a delight. I could see using them as a translucent garnish for nearly any dessert, chopping them into scones, or slipping the sweet slices in between cake layers.

But to be honest, I doubt they will make their way into any recipe at our house. We are eating a sticky slice or two with herbal tea in the afternoon and as a snack after dinner. The bright, bitter intense flavor adds moments of light to our days.

Candied Lemon (or Grapefruit)

2 cups sugar 2 cups water 3 lemons, sliced thinly and quartered, seeds removed 1 cup sugar (optional)

1. Simmer sugar and water over low heat in a wide non-reactive skillet until sugar is dissolved and a syrup forms. 2. Layer fruit slices in syrup. Cook at a low simmer until peels are translucent, 45-90 minutes. 3. Remove candy from syrup and drain on a cooling rack. Optionally, roll in more sugar before syrup dries. 4. Store in an airtight container for up to two weeks.

Added to Hearth & Soul Blog Hop.

She Was Hiding Something

Can you spy the oddity in this picture? How about the chicken egg behind the bush?Which, upon looking closer, turned out to be a whole nest of eggs. It seems our chicken Austra has been laying for quite some time.

We had our suspicions when her feathers grew back in completely and comb turned characteristically bright red, a sign of egg production.

Then last week, we came home from a short walk and the dogs were at odds with each other. We stopped big hound Devie from barking and uncovered the desired object from little hound Hawise: a pale pinkish brown chicken egg. On the couch. Inside the house. Could they have brought an Austra egg in from the yard? But she hadn't left any in the nest box in months! When I uncovered the eggs on Saturday, we knew we had to reacquaint Austra with her nest box. She was going broody - sitting on the eggs and trying to hatch them - but we couldn't have her laying eggs on the ground where they might freeze or be crushed or snatched by a dog.

We moved several of the ill-lain eggs to our designated nest box. Shut inside for a bit, Austra settled the bedding into a nest and laid an egg in the proper spot.

Later, to the tune of her anxious clucks, I removed all the other eggs and raked up the leaves. I even pulled up the cover evergreen, a plant that doesn't quite belong in that place. Yesterday, we could find no egg in the nest box or Austra's ground nesting place. We all wonder where the next egg will be hiding.

Confessions {Friday Five}

1. I like to make jam but I rarely eat it. 2. Same with pickles. Hence, my pantry is overabundant and I give many jarred gifts.

3. I failed at worm composting last year. I so don't like squishy creatures that I hated tending the box and turned the wigglers lose in my compost bin in the summer. I am keeping my awesome One20 Farm composter with the hopes that someday I'll get over my fear or convince Lil to tend worms for me.

4. I don't like the way I look on tv or in pictures. Thankfully this video segment on local news about moms who blog with Mikaela Hunt included beauties Amy Turn Sharp, Diane Davis Lang, Susie Owens, and Wendy Hondroulis to counter my awkwardness.

5. Alex is a better cook than I. He makes sauces, garnishes dishes and attempts recipes that I simply do not take time for.

6. (Bonus because I had to share the picture!) I take unwarranted pleasure in bathing the little dog. She hates it but Lil and I smirk as we wash her filthy body.

Simplest Oven Roasted Squash Soup {Recipe}

Earlier this week, we were slated to bring a soup to family dinner with Alex's parents. I spied our last local pie pumpkin languishing on the counter and thought of squash soup. I typically make winter squash soup by oven roasting the squash, sautéing onions and garlic in oil, and then pureeing everything together. This time I was exhausted from another bout of sinus pain. I didn't feel like dicing the onion and happened upon another thought - what if I roasted everything together?

The lazy girl's inclination turned out to be a stroke of brilliance. Pumpkin halves, onion, garlic, and parsnip bathed in an oil-rubbed sauna for about 40 minutes while I put my feet up and watched a football bowl game. On the second rack of the oven, I roasted the pumpkin seeds.

Then I simply scraped all the slightly charred, softened vegetables into a pot and added stock from the freezer and herbs from the backyard. I whizzed the soup smooth with the immersion blender and topped with roasted seeds. The resulting soup is earthy and rich with caramelized flavors from the roasted vegetables.

I've been at this home cooking thing for a long time and I don't usually change much about the way I make traditional dishes. But sometimes the simplest thing surprises me. I'll never make squash soup the old way again.

[amd-zlrecipe-recipe:3]

Added to Simple Lives Thursday #77.