The Wormery

Last February, fed up dealing with our landlady's well-intended but nasty compost pile I built a worm composter.  My last vermicompost foray resulted a soupy mess so this time I went with a breathable design a la the Worm Inn.  Here's what I came up with:


Improvised from an L.L. Bean fleece, a laundry basket, karate 'brown' belt, stakes, and a jump rope, it's essentially a bag o' worms.  The drawstring zippered neck of the fleece make for easy compost access and the material itself improves the air-flow, making it stink-free.  Here it is loaded and topped with damp newspaper:

Six months after initial assembly I collected my first batch of compost.

Uncomposted bits were separated into the yellow bin, worms into the white and compost into the blue.   I found the easiest way to get the worms separated was to let the compost sit in a bright cool spot.  The worms in an effort to avoid the light burrowed to the bottom and I gently scraped a layer of compost until I was left with mostly worms.

I returned the uncomposted material and worms back into the composter and we begin anew.  With weekly food scraps and damp shredded newspaper additions in 6 months we should have more of this:

Another Reason to Love Youtube

This weekend project is thanks to the plethora of how-to videos on Youtube, a reassuring brother, and a closeted inner mechanic.

Break the lug nuts loose by bouncing all of your 100 pounds on a tire wrench.   Remove a bolt to lift up the caliper to reveal the old pads.

Pop 'em out.

Give the piston a good squeeze to make room for the new pads.

Y voila!  New shoes.
p.s.- Other Youtube videos of interest: gluing a hair weave, harvesting compost worms, crazy mad guitar skills.

Sometime There IS an Easier Way

A few months ago with sage advice from one little brother, I tackled replacing the radiator in my car. The installation required effort beyond my muscles and a fair amount of trust in car jacks, so imagine my dismay when while donning my sneakers I noticed faint whisps curling from beneath the hood of my car.  A peek inside, bloody coolant everywhere the culprit; a tiny hole.

Two days later standing in Auto Zone and imagining the painful installation ahead, I muttered that there had to be an easier way.  Risking embarrassment I asked the sales clerk of an imagined product called radiator hose lubricant and the clouds parted as my helpful clerk reached below the counter and presented me with a packet of this:

Ha!

And here she is (the fat one in the middle) happily installed, coolant replenished all without a stinkin' hitch— I love it when a plan comes together.

From 'Sock Pants' to Napkins

Years and years ago in a act typical of a self-sacrificing mom; my mother gave me her sewing machine.  Her brand new machine.  She it earned from an incentive program at work and I somehow convinced her to let me have it.  Now before you think I'm a terrible daughter, let me clarify that this was her second machine, the first still sits in the guest room in fine working order having clocked-in endless hours on Halloween costumes and 'sock pants.' 

Sock pants?
Are what Mom called her invention of sewing crew socks to the ankles of pants.  It gets cold in Northern California, and in an effort to keep her toddler son warm, Mom would layer up sock pants beneath a another pair of pants.  Imagine this poor sprout in preschool around nap time when the teacher asked everyone to "Please take off their shoes and socks." 

I've yet to make a pair of sock pants but I have made many of my own projects and inventions.  Recently, I revisited my very first project: cloth napkins.  It makes my heart sings to see that I have learned.  Learned that ironing actually does save time, that corner can be tidy, and that moms really are the best. 

How-to Sew Cloth Napkins

Cut some cotton fabric into squares (remember to take in account for the hem.) Mine were on the small size and measured 15" x 15" before sewing, the finished napkin was just shy of 14" but feel free to make them any size you like.

With the wrong side of the fabric up,  eyeball a 3/8" hem folding and pressing all around the perimeter.

Next fold the hem over one more time pressing the corners well.

Next trim the corners to remove some of the bulk material do this by unfolding the pressed corners and drawing a line through the intersection of the second hem line.

Cut on the line

Fold and press the cut end.

Refold the hemsforming a neat corner.  Here's the first fold

and the second

Ta-da!
Ok, so repeat for all the other corners. And press , press, press, this will make sewing a breeze.  Then run a straight stitch along the hem and you're done.

Treatment

In an effort to convince myself that I am NOT a hoarder, I fashioned this bag immediately after watching an episode of the reality/intervention television show Hoarders.

Like the infamous Collyer brothers buried by 130 tons of their amassed stuff, hoarders are inexplicably compelled to collect lots of stuff usually at the expense of relationships and sanitary living conditions. I'm not entirely sure what it is that makes witnessing the intervention process so interesting, but I suspect it has something to do with other's humiliation and embarrassment. Sheesh

For those who may also share hoarding tendencies, might I suggest watching grass grow rather than your stuff. Here's how:

Sprinkle a generous layer of wheat berries (in the bulk aisle) onto some lightly packed potting soil. Water well and place the pots in a sunny spot with a tray of water beneath. In a few days you should see the seeds begin to root. Once the grass is a few inches tall, juice it or as do as Eddy does and snip directly atop your food.

Is There a Doctor In The House?

It's always good to have a doctor in the family or a mechanic. Flashback to Thursday, while dropping off books at the library my car began dry heaving in idle. Crap. I drove straight home (several blocks) and watched the thermostat climb while from beneath the hood wisps of steam puffed suspiciously like smoke from girls' bathroom. Crap. At home, a quick look in under the hood revealed a massacre of neon coolant. Crap.

So I did as I always do with anything car related I called my little brother, my own guru of cars. He's earned his title from years of tinkering (or as he says wrenching) with cars which includes his current Subaru where he's performed a minor engine swap and started a small business modifying intakes and exhausts. I mean this kid pays to spend a sleepless night driving in a road rally for entertainment. Credentials aside, I requested a telephone consultation. The diagnosis: an absolutely fixable repair, likely a cracked hose or radiator, after inspecting for faulty parts replace them, conventional shop costs: $300, herbal DIY remedy: $100-150. The home remedy will take some time but scores low on scale of difficulty meaning the risk of screwing up anything major was fairly low. Being the parsimonious gal I am and my penchant for learning how-to-do pretty much anything, the decision was an easy one; let's do it.

A salvage yard sold me a replacement radiator for $75 and we picked up a pair of jack stands and some coolant. Today we woke to gorgeous weather a lovely site after a few days of gloom and it was all around good juju for our swap. We spent a good part of the day under the car, much to the chagrin of our neighbors many of which, drove by with expressions of bewilderment and perhaps disapproval at the site of a car on stands in the street. What will become of our property values? We just smiled and waved.



Eddy was in charge of the camera today and decided to take a picture that incorporated a rather unflattering shot of my lower back, thus my friend Photoshopped Crow. This was the only shot of the car so I included it, back and all.

I like to think that I'm a fairly capable gal but this job would've been impossible without Eddy,for as strong as I like to think I am, I would have never gotten the hoses off (or back on for that matter) I simply don't have the brawn. Eventually, with a lot contorting punctuated with deep grunts we got the new radiator into her new home and with fingers-crossed we took a test drive. We were rewarded with a steady engine temperature and a feeling of satisfaction that comes with acts of I-did-it-myself-AND-it-worked. Thanks to the Edo's muscle, little bro's brain and the smoky grease monkey who sold me the radiator my car has recovered. In other news that same little brother of mine will soon fill the other "good to have in the family" role as he's well on his way to medical school. I'm so stinking proud.

Tired of Making Do

Last week during the peach butter mayhem this embarrassingly dirty oven mitt repeatedly wrecked my roll.

To be honest it's not really Mr. Oven Mitt's fault, you see, the problem is that I only have one. I've been partnering him along with dishtowels that dangle dangerously close to lit burners or in my peach case, maneuvering large vessels of boiling water and dishes of molten puree. This kind of jury-rigging gets old, particularly during fits of cursing when the your damp dishtowel fails to protect your tender digits from superheated Pyrex. So with a dammit of disgust I whipped up these boys

from bits of an abandoned project and the straps of a unwanted tank top, and I must say I feel a lot better and so do my digits.

How I Learned to Make (Chow) Fun

As I've mentioned in past posts Montana is an indescribably beautiful place. That being said, finding Asian provisions, even provisions that go just beyond meat and potatoes, can be a challenge. The fact that the local Super Walmart has one of the better international aisles among our grocery stores, essentially describes my plight. Back to fun.

fun. Chow fun?
Chow describes the cooking method of high-temperature wok stir-frying. Fun is a type of wide, freshly-made rice noodle that has a texture that is both soft and slightly chewy. The smoky, carmelized flavors produced by this means of cooking is called in Chinese wok hai which among the Cantonese in particular (i.e. my poppa) is the arbiter of good eats.

Ordinarily you buy fresh fun at the Asian grocer and chow it at home, but because there are no fun retailers in Missoula, I began what would become an elusive search for a homemade recipe. The Internet didn't provide any reliable leads so I went to the public library where I found several dated cookbooks with noodle recipes but none explaining noodle making. I then remembered a Southeast Asian cookbook that I had checked-out a few months back entitled Hot Sour Salty Sweet, written by the husband and wife team Jeffery Alford and Naomi Duguid, that included a recipe for rice noodle sheets. The book itself is composed of anecdotal accounts and lovely photographs illustrating recipes that feel lived and entirely unpretentious. Predictably, and much to my chagrin, the book was posted as 'available' but missing from the shelf. Argh! Two days later after placing a request, the book came into my possession and here's what ensued:

Rice Noodle Sheets
from Hot Sour Salty Sweet by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid
1 C. rice flour I found these flours in the bulk department of my natural food store.
1/2 C. tapioca flour
1/2 C. corn starch
2 1/4 C. water
lots of vegetable oil

Mix dry ingredients in a large bowl and whisk in water. Let the thin batter rest 30 min to 2 hrs before cooking. Heat a small skillet on med-low heat. Add a small amount of oil and wipe with a paper towel leaving the barest amount of oil. Pour 1/4 C. of batter into hot pan, swirling to coat. Quickly cover the pan with a lid and cook 1-2 min until edges pull away from the sides of the pan and the surface of the noodle is no longer sticky. Transfer the noodle sheet to a well oiled plate, coating both sides with oil. Continue cooking sheets, stacking them atop one another and oiling liberally between additions. When the sheets have cooled, cut the stack into strips. Separate the strips forming the noodles.

Chow Fun
one batch of rice fresh rice noodles
1/3 lb. skirt steak, sliced marinated in soy sauce, minced garlic, sherry, black pepper
1/2 C. onion, coarsely sliced
1 1/2 C. bok choy, chopped in 1" sections
1 C. bean sprouts
2 green onions, cut in 2" lengths

2 T. fermented black beans, rinse with water to remove excess salt and mash
3 T. soy sauce, I had regular soy sauce on hand but dark is preferable
2 t. sherry
1/2 t. sugar

Heat wok on high, coat with 1 T. oil and heat until smoking add onions and bok choy. Stir the vegetables, cooking them quickly and remove once they obtain some carmelization. Cook the meat next, searing both sides and set aside. Rinse out the wok, reheat and coat with oil. When the oil begins smoking add the fresh noodles. Resist the urge to stir and break the noodles. Allow the noodles to sear turning them minimally. When toasted, return the vegetables and beef to the noodles and toss with sauce ingredients (soy, sherry, sugar, black beans). Finally, add bean sprouts and green onions. Serve with chili oil or Sriacha.

If you'd asked me two years ago about what I hoped to learn or discover from Montana, I might have listed rugged things like fishing, mountains, horses...I don't think I would've ever guessed that in addition to those things, I'd be initiated into realm closer to home; one of homemade fun.

The Mysteries of Kombucha Revealed

Kombucha, what the hell is it you say?
Boocha, as we affectionately call it, is an effervescent beverage made from a culturing process that involves a kombucha colony, sugar, and tea. I've read that it has its origins in China and was consumed for its believed digestive benefits and all-around goodness. As a self-confessed addict (and at $3.25 a fix) I was in desperate need for a DIY hack. A few moments spent in front of a glowing monitor and the Internet spilled her information-filled guts — revealing a relatively simple process. All that was required was a mother colony, a batch of sweet tea, and a little patience. For around twenty bucks, there are several sites on the web from which one can purchase a culture also known as a mushroom, SCOBY (Symbiotic Culture of Bacteria and Yeast, yum) or mother. Hmm.... Twenty bucks felt steep for my tight pursestrings...to my delight, a friend shared it was possible to circumvent the initiation fee and grow my own culture using a bottle of the store-bought stuff. Again I consulted the wise Internet and sure enough, I uncovered a couple of recipes and even a video.
So where to begin? Growing your mother...

The Gear:
1 bottle of plain kombucha (I used the ubiquitous G.T.'s)
6 t. loose leaf black tea (Assam, Keemun, Darjeeling are some personal favorites)
1 C. sugar
1 gallon of filtered water
1 non-reactive container i.e. glass or plastic, I use a gallon-size glass cookie jar
a piece of cotton cloth large enough to cover the mouth of the jar, I use a clean dinner napkin
1 rubber band

Begin by brewing your tea. Place your tea (I use loose leaf but you may substitute an equal number of tea bags as long as the tea is black) in 2 large glasses and top off with boiling water. Allow the strong tea to brew until the tea comes to room temperature. In your gallon-size, non-reactive container measure 1 cup of sugar and add the strained, room-temperature tea. Stir the tea and sugar together until the sugar is dissolved. Fill the container nearly to the top with filtered water and add the bottle of kombucha; stir well. Place the piece of cloth over the mouth of the container and hold it in place with a rubber band. Now take your entire rig and place it in an undisturbed area, sheltered from direct sunlight. You are looking for a colony to form on the surface of the brew. It will take the form of a milky floating film. The rate of film formation is directly dependent on the ambient room temperature, so expect a longer brew time for colder seasons. I started mine in the spring and it took four weeks for a 1/4" momma to grow. Check on your colony nursery every couple of days, making sure the film is covered with tea and that no mold forms. Mold is bad. If molds sprouts, get rid of your batch and start over. Once you've grown a vital, robust colony, reserve 2 cups of the brew along with the mother. Discard the remaining sacrificial broth. Now you're ready to make kombucha.

The List: the brew is the same as above
1 C. sugar
6 t. tea to 1 gallon of water
kombucha colony
non-reactive container
cotton cloth rubber band
ginger, fresh a 1" x 2" piece (optional)

Whip up a batch of the same sweet tea as directed above and add the 2 C. of the reserved brewed tea and the momma. Make sure the colony is submerged, then cover the vat with the cotton cloth and secure with a rubber band. Brew time will again depend on the time of year and temperature. In the summer, brew times will be shorter (7-12 days) rather than 12-16 days in the winter. Give your brew a taste — if it's too sweet give it a couple more days; too tart — shorten the time for the next batch. Every time I start a new batch, I write the date on a piece of tape and affix it to the exterior of the jar so I have an idea of how much time has passed.

Bottling
6 pint bottles or containers with tight fitting lids. I save G.T. kombucha bottles for bottling — you can use whatever you like as long as the seal is secure and tight.

This recipe yields 6 pints of kombucha. Using a 2 C. measuring glass reserve two cups of brew, along with the mother colony, in a separate bowl. Decant the remaining brew into clean bottles. I usually fill the bottles to the top of the G.T. label followed by the ginger juice. If you're making plain kombucha, fill the bottles to an half inch of the top and cap tightly. For a ginger version (my personal favorite) grate fresh ginger, skin and all, and add 1 cup of boiling water. Once the water has cooled to room temperature, strain the grated ginger. After filling the six bottles to the level of the label there should be approximately 1 cup of brew remaining. To this remaining cup add your ginger juice and distribute this mixture equally among the six bottles of brew. Cap the bottles tightly and place in an undisturbed location at room temperature for 1-2 days. This resting time develops the effervescence — which you can test by uncapping a bottle and listening for the telltale fizz. At this point you can put the bottles in the fridge which will stop the fermentation process. Enjoy at your leisure.

One of the beauties of this process is that it's perpetual — you always have a batch of brew in the works — but as with all good things it also requires a bit of vigilance. Imagine yourself as teenage babysitter, for that's about how much work is involved and remember — mold is bad. With every batch the momma will thicken, forming a new layer often called the baby. This baby or new layer is capable of breeding its own batch of brew — hence the mail-order-boocha brides at twenty dollars a pop. Give one away free-puppy-style, or do as I do and keep the boocha family together in one incestuous flotilla.