Saturday, January 14, 2012

More Cattail, Milkweed adventures

Here's a leather pillow stuffed with two of our favorite wild foods, cattail and milkweed. It's made from an old leather couch, and sewn together with Irish shoemakers linen. It has a suede side and a smooth side, and is very nice to sleep on, and pretty easy to make too. I made this pillow with about a half and half mix of cattail down and milkweed silks.

suede

smooth
I used four different stitches on here, to see which one i liked best- so far, this one's th' winner. It loops through itself and holds nicely.


Cattails spread by rhizomes, so i just collected what i needed of their corn dog looking fluff, and didn't worry much about taking too many.
With th' milkweed however, i was a little more cautious. I took only th' fluffy silk, scattering th' seeds where th' plants grew. I remember reading in one of Euell Gibbons books of essays about him figuring out a good way to separate th' silk from th' seed. It didn't make much sense till i actually tried it. His two essay collections, Stalking the Good Life and Stalking the Faraway places i found on amazon for about a dollar, best dollar i ever spent by th' way. 
What i did was collect th' pods in th' fall, after they had cracked open, but not fully opened up. Once they're open and spreading silk, it gets much more difficult to harvest it.

milkweed pod

and here's that split-perfect time to harvest silk
Once you open th' pod all th' way, th' silk lays flat, and it looks kinda like a fish.

milkweed seeds
Hold it by th' silk, just like in th' photo above, then just rub th' seeds off. You'll lose a little bit of th' silk too, but not much. Th' silk can then be placed in a bag, where it will expand and want to fly all over th' place.

seeds partially rubbed off
milkweed silks

Inside there's a little membrane that you'll want to get out, then just stuff your bag till it's full. 
In th' past milkweed silks were used to stuff lifevests, and it must be one of th' most insulating fibers on th' planet. You can literally feel your hand warming up when you stick it inside a bag of milkweed silk. There's potential here. Something that floats, is waterproof, and very warm. What could we do with that?

If you'd like to see more of our crafts creations, click here.

And, just to get you in a sleepy mood, here's some pictures of th' sunset outside my workshop. Good night.

sunset

sunset outside my shop (garage)


~Rico

Monday, January 02, 2012

Acorn Nuppa

"When the people woke up and looked upon the world they found it good. They learned by watching the animals what articles were good to eat. From the grizzly bear they learned that the acorn was food. From the crane they learned to catch and eat fish. The cougar taught them that the meat of the deer, the elk, and the antelope was to be eaten. They gained wisdom from experience, by observing how the animals and birds and bugs lived...they were happy, and worshipped the Great Spirit, who had given them life..."

From It Will Live Forever, by Beverly R. Ortiz, as told by Julia Parker

 
Acorn Nuppa, with Sumac spoon

Imagine, just over 200 years ago there were entire societies living without trash, police, jails, banks, money. They had no pollution. They could drink from th' same rivers they swam in. And they would still be living this way today if they had th' choice. But others made th' choice for them, and it's hard to go back.
There are many fabulous recipes for and things to do with acorns. But eating the traditional "nuppa," what some misleadingly call "mush" is one way to show that we recognize the goodness, the healthiness of their lifestyle. It's a porridge that has sustained people since th' dawn of time. And it's delicious.
Here's some with a touch of butter and maple syrup, cooked just like stone ground oats. Yumm.
For more pictures of spoons and other crafts, you can see our crafts blog here. It's still a baby, but growing slowly and steadily.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Acorns

Acorns

We should keep the old way here because of our children, 
and our childrens children,
and generations to come after us.
~Julia Parker                



     My whole life i've known you could eat acorns. I grew up hearing stories about the indians leeching them in a mountain stream to make them palatable. But, aside from the squirrels, i'd never met anyone who had actually eaten them. 


   
  When i read about Ishi, i was hooked, on acorns and archery. I started building bows and arrows. I didn't know any bowyers, but there's a few good books out there on th' subject. My favorite being Jim Hamm's and Paul Comstocks. So i plugged along, even met a bowyer to talk to. Experience grew, and i make them still. But still silence on the acorn front. 
     Then one day Neil came over- we talked about eating wild food, and "ancient grains". He told us about his experiences eating acorns. Finally, some one who has actually tasted them. Thanks Neil. That was encouragement greatly needed. A few months later i got my hands on a copy of Samuel Thayers book Natures Garden, which includes a 50+ page account on acorns. Once again, someone who actually eats them, and has a great reverence for them. This is a wonderful account, and anyone interested in acorns, or wild foods in general would do well to give it a read. One of th' things Thayer mentions, which is supported by numerous accounts, is the nutritional content of acorns. They are perhaps th' most nutritionally balanced food known to man, and it's easy to see how they could have sustained people for thousands of years.
     After that i found a copy of It will live forever- a touching account of Julia Parker, a lady keeping alive the ancient traditions of her people by showing others how to live with acorns. She makes all her own baskets from plants she harvest's herself. She cooks acorn in a basket with boiling water. Do you know anyone who can weave a water tight basket from plant roots? I don't. Talk about a master craftsman, that about sets th' standard. She cooks the acorn into a variety of dishes. One of them, deceptively called mush, is more like a porridge, and has kept her people alive since th' beginning of time. Another is a flatbread made from th' finest ground flour. So i read both these books, but still it was summertime. Patience.
     Then late summer came, i harvested a bagfull of th' first dropped acorns off some large oaks in city park. We cracked them and leeched them in hot water, only to add them to a stew that i ruined with too much evening primrose root.
     But not giving up hope, fall came just th' same. I found more acorns. Collected three different species, dried them in th' sun, and dried them in our house above th' heaters on cloudy days. Cracked them first with a nut cracker, then realized that nutcrackers are fine if you want to leave out a bowl of nuts for your guests, but if you want some food, a nutcracker is absurd. Nothing beats a good hammerstone, or wooden mallet. 

acorns and black walnuts drying, in single layers


     We leeched them a variety of ways, coming up with our favorite, th' one that works best for us. Then we baked pumpkin pies on acorn crusts. Flour crusts will never be first choice for us again.

pumpkin pie with acorn crust


     We also drank acorn milk, th' last squeezing of th' leech water, with a drop of maple syrup in it. It's really good.
We made crackers, and gingerbread cookies and a rye bread from crushed acorns. We've still got some flour waiting, next we'll try th' porridge.

acorn rye bread


     Acorns taste like no other food, a bit like fall itself. Th' flavor is rather neutral, and can be used sweet or savory. When raw, and freshly ground, they have an aroma so inviting it makes you want to skip th' leeching process altogether and dive right in- but don't do it. They really do need to be leeched. 
     For some great acorn recipes click here. Like many of your favorite foods, once you start eating it you get used to it, and get cravings for it. It's a new sensation to me to get cravings for things i can't buy in th' markets, but with all th' foraging we've been doing, i'm getting rather used to that too. So, without further ado, here's a photo essay of our acorn experience. 

 First thing is to find the acorns.
oak leaves in winter
 Then use them, or dry them right away, they will mold. We dried ours in single layers inside strawberry boxes, either in the sun or in our house near a heater.



 Once they're dry, it's time to crack them. Dry ones crack much easier than fresh ones. I tried a variety of different ways, and settled on smashing them right where they are in the box with a log, or just giving them a good whack with a wooden mallet as i'm shelling them, which i often had to do for th' ones that escaped th' log th' first time. By th' way, a good whack means th' right amount of force, not as hard as you can hit it. Hit them on th' top, they'll open right up.

one good whack!


and they open right up

After you get them cracked, you'll have a beautiful mix of nuts, ready to be pounded or ground. Note th' different colors are due to oxidation, and are not indicative of flavor or tannin content. Th' darker ones dried out in cracked shells, where as th' lighther ones sat in closed shells. 

bur oak acorns

arizona oak acorns
    
     Each acorn is covered with a thin skin, like on a peanut, called th' testa. You need to get those off there, and when the acorns are dry, it's really easy, when they are fresh, you often have to scrape them off.

acorns showing skin
  

      Once you've gotten them cracked and de-skinned, it's time to pound them. Being inspired by Julia Parkers account, and preferring to use as simple a means as possible, i pounded them with a hammerstone, th' same one i use for cracking black walnuts. From time to time however, i do like to experiment with modern contraptions, just to compare them and/or give me a marker for more primitive technology. So i have put some acorns in a blender and ground them, and i broke a coffee grinder with them. Th' blender didn't get the acorns nearly as fine as pounding them with a stone, and was hardly faster. And it was really loud and th' motor smelled bad. It's really not worth it. 
     So i spread a pile of acorns on a thick piece of canvas doubled over, and just pounded away. After a while you get a rythym, and a feel for how hard to pound.

a hand helps keep them together, some like to fly
I like to pound for a while, then sift them through a strainer with my pounding stone. Whatever doesn't fall through gets re-pounded.




pounded acorn

Now take a whiff of this, it's that smell i told you about. Yummmm.
Also, this is a good grind size for pie crusts, if you want it finer, keep going.


 After you've pounded, and your arms are sore, but you're feelin pretty good, it's time to leech. We've leeched them in a fruit strainer with a cloth filter, and that worked out pretty good, but it took a couple of days. In order to leech them in one day, we spread them thinly over a screen, with a cloth filter on it. 
     Following th' traditions of th' natives, we used a spruce branch to break up th' water we poured over th' top, so as not to splash the acorn and created puddles. You can even set up a sprinkler with a shower setting on it to spray and just let it go for awhile, but i'd recommend using filtered water for th' last few pourings, to rinse out th' chlorine you may get from th' water hose. Filtered water all th' way through is, of course, th' better option. We covered ours with another screen to keep falling debris off. 
leeching setup
If you're going to do this outside, keep in mind th' squirrels, they will pee right on your acorns. I had one pee on my pounding cloth once, luckily after i was done pounding. Another way we've leeched them is with th' same setup, but we placed it on a frame in th' shower. That also worked very well, and we didn't have critters to watch out for. We used about 30 gallons of water to leech th' second batch, the arizona acorns, and about 20 gallons to leech the burr oak acorns. Taste them periodically to know when they're ready.
     Once you taste them and they're not astringent, they're ready to be cooked. We wring 'em out in th' filter cloth and catch th' liquid, which is full of th' smallest particles of acorn flour. Then add a little maple syrup and you've got acorn milk. It's like almond milk, but tastes like acorn. Again, for recipes look here.
     The acorn is a sacred food. It has sustained many cultures for thousands of years, and it just may do so again. But it's a commitment. It takes work. But like all good work, it's worth it. It satisfies. The indians said that if we did not love and respect the acorn it would disappear. White people thought that was old indian superstition. So they cut down the oak trees to build cities and roads and cheap houses and what not. They also burned the indians stores of acorn. Millions and millions of bushels, just so they would starve and have to move onto reservations to eat. They didn't respect the acorn, and so the acorn disappeared. But thankfully, a few people did love the acorn, and silently, against overwhelming odds, they preserved a knowledge that might've been lost forever. Thank you Julia, and thank you Sam, and thank you to everyone else, known or unknown, who has preserved an ancient tradition, that it might be passed down to us.