Delighted that the ramsons aka wild garlic is starting to pop up! At least they’ve started appearing in Wicklow. It’s always exciting to have the first wild harvest after the long winter and what a delicious one at that. Here’s a few images from last year.
Conxuro da Queimada
This is a ceremony that’s traditionally practiced in Galicia Spain. I have fond memories of a crazy gallega friend Lorena who did this for a birthday many years ago. It was mesmerizing. I would like to re-create this spell myself one day soon.
I don’t think it sounds as well in English as it does in Spanish or Gallician. But here’s the translation of the spell:(from Wikipedia)
In Galician language | In English |
---|---|
Mouchos, curuxas, sapos e bruxas.
Demos, trasgos e diaños, espĂritos das neboadas veigas. Corvos, pĂntegas e meigas: feitizos das menciñeiras. Podres cañotas furadas, fogar dos vermes e alimañas. Lume das Santas Compañas, mal de ollo, negros meigallos, cheiro dos mortos, tronos e raios. Ouveo do can, pregĂłn da morte; fuciño do sĂĄtiro e pĂ© do coello. Pecadora lingua da mala muller casada cun home vello. Averno de SatĂĄn e BelcebĂș, lume dos cadĂĄveres ardentes, corpos mutilados dos indecentes, peidos dos infernais cus, muxido da mar embravecida. Barriga inĂștil da muller solteira, falar dos gatos que andan ĂĄ xaneira, guedella porca da cabra mal parida. Con este fol levantarei as chamas deste lume que asemella ao do Inferno, e fuxirĂĄn as bruxas a cabalo das sĂșas vasoiras, Ăndose bañar na praia das areas gordas. ÂĄOĂde, oĂde! os ruxidos que dan as que non poden deixar de queimarse no augardente quedando asĂ purificadas. E cando este beberaxe baixe polas nosas gorxas, quedaremos libres dos males da nosa alma e de todo embruxamento. Forzas do ar, terra, mar e lume, a vĂłs fago esta chamada: se Ă© verdade que tendes mĂĄis poder que a humana xente, eiquĂ e agora, facede que os espĂritos dos amigos que estĂĄn fĂłra, participen con nĂłs desta Queimada. |
Owls, barn owls, toads and witches.
Demons, goblins and devils, spirits of the misty vales. Crows, salamanders and witches, charms of the folk healer(ess). Rotten pierced canes, home of worms and vermin. Wisps of the Holy Company, evil eye, black witchcraft, scent of the dead, thunder and lightning. Howl of the dog, omen of death, maws of the satyr and foot of the rabbit. Sinful tongue of the bad woman married to an old man. Satan and Beelzebub’s Inferno, fire of the burning corpses, mutilated bodies of the indecent ones, farts of the asses of doom, bellow of the enraged sea. Useless belly of the unmarried woman, speech of the cats in heat, dirty turf of the wicked born goat. With this bellows I will pump the flames of this fire which looks like that from Hell, and witches will flee, straddling their brooms, going to bathe in the beach of the thick sands. Hear! Hear the roars of those that cannot stop burning in the firewater, becoming so purified. And when this beverage goes down our throats, we will get free of the evil of our soul and of any charm. Forces of air, earth, sea and fire, to you I make this call: if it’s true that you have more power than people, here and now, make the spirits of the friends who are outside, take part with us in this Queimada. |
Cajeta recipe goats milk caramel
Since becoming a goat-keeper of dairy goats I’ve had the pleasure of discovering all of the ways to use goat’s milk.
This recipe is the Mexican version of ‘dulce de leche’ it is pure decadence- and traditionally it uses goat’s milk instead of cow’s milk. Cajeta is a caramel made by slowly cooking and caramelizing sweetened milk. It is a common confectionary in South and Central America, especially Mexico.
It’s a bit of an indulgence to say the least as it takes quite a bit of milk, sugar, fuel and time! But I think you’ll find it’s worth it. Perhaps on a rainy Sunday morning when you’ll be near the kitchen for a few hours!
Cajeta
Start off with a quantity of goat’s milk (or cow’s milk if you prefer, or a mix!). Remember that the final product will be approximately 1/5th of what you start with. Add the milk to a heavy bottomed pot (I use an enamelled cast iron pot like Le Creuset) and turn it on to a medium heat. Keep at least 2-3 inches of space at the top of the pot in case the milk boils over. Stir regularly. Add 1 cup of brown sugar (organic and fair trade if possible) to each litre of milk and a half teaspoon of baking soda. Stir as its heating to avoid it burning on the bottom. Keep it at a steady simmer, not an angry boil or it will boil over or burn. I add vanilla extract and cinnamon to taste. Some might add rum.
Keep an eye on the mixture throughout, as it can easily boil over if left unattended. You may need to occasionally remove the pan from the heat to prevent the cajeta mixture from foaming over the sides of the pan.
After hours you can see how much the mixture has reduced and the more it reduces the more the simmer will increase even if you maintain it in the same level of heat, so you have to moderate and reduce the heat.
You know the Cajeta is ready when: It achieves a caramel brown color; it is thick as liquid caramel or syrup; it envelops the back of the spoon; when you gently stir across the pot with your wooden spoon, a slightly delayed trail behind the spoon appears, revealing the bottom of the pot if only for a few seconds; as you slowly lift up the wooden spoon or spatula, Cajeta takes itâs time to drop and lastly, the sides of the pot show how the Cajeta has cooked down and if you run your spoon across that side, you get a fudgy (and delicious) residue.
When the mixture coats the back of a spoon, its ready. Bottle it up immediately hot into warm sterilised jam jars (I use small ones as its so rich) turn it upside down to create a vacuum seal.
Let it cool, and take note that it will thicken as it cools.
Cajeta is not only decadent and luxurious, it is also ideal for using with⊠everything! crepes, pancakes, ice cream, yogurt, to dip fruit in, (try with strawberries) or even just smeared on a slice of toast. I’ve even added a spoonful to a coffee to be used like sweetened condensed milk or like a caramel latte. You can make tiny banoffee pies by covering a graham cracker or digestive biscuit in caramel and topping with freshly cut banana rounds. I top it off with some thickly strained goats greek yogurt. Amazing! The best way of all: just dip a big teaspoon and lick straight from the spoon!
A very cultured evening by Lucy Weir
A very cultured evening in Bray
Lucy Weir, PhD
Zygonomy is the science behind the art of employing a culture. A culture, in this sense, is a specific mix of fungal and bacterial strains, often 20 or more species that exist in symbiosis. The yeasts produce alcohol, and the bacteria consume them, which means the yeasts can survive, which means the bacteria continue to have a source of nutrition. These cultures have been a part of our diet since the beginning of human history, being used to bake bread, preserve food, create drinks, brew beer or ferment wine. And therefore, of course, they have been essential in the development of our culture, the way we eat and drink being central to how we relate and celebrate.
I was provoked into learning more about the process of fermentation after last Thursdayâs wonderful workshop given by Courtney Tyler in Common Groundâs ground-floor room. The building itself is beautifully atmospheric, an old storehouse, down a winding lane. There is a sense of hope about the whole place, combined with a feeling of âmake do and mendâ, a determination to preserve aspects of Irish culture, but a welcoming openness to useful elements from other traditions. It resonates with both old-world charm and a thirst for learning. All in all, itâs a great place to attend a workshop.
We sat round a scrubbed wooden table and watched as Courtney took us, first, through the art of sauerkraut making. She had already chopped, into a large stainless steel bowl (âsome people say you shouldnât use stainless steel- âI think its fine, along with glass or ceramicââ) a huge red cabbage (she held her hands before her like a fisherwoman to depict its original size), beetroot, turnip (which surprised me), raisins sheâd made herself from grapes (she told us how sheâd come across an abandoned polytunnel heaving with grapes – about as unlikely a tale as youâre going to hear, but evidently true!), and salt. How much salt? A lot. She took a large pinch of salt from a jamjar, large crystals of sea salt with what looked like seaweed flecks attached, and said, âI think Iâve put about four of these in alreadyâ. She added another two. She peeled a couple of garlic cloves and there was a discussion about whether or not garlic ferments (it has anti-fungal properties, so tends not to pickle as readily as cabbage, but she maintains that a little can add good flavour) and turmeric (âif Iâve brought itâ). But no water. sauerkraut, she told us, is âcookedâ in its own juice. She added some ginger, rubbing it against the grater without peeling or cleaning it: the process itself will kill off harmful bacteria: in fact the skin contains the lactobacilli the âgoodâ bacteria – this is the beauty of preserving through fermentation.
You could, of course, just stick with cabbage, but half the fun is in experimentation with flavours, and adding such variety keeps things interesting, just as weaving anecdotes through the recipes kept us listening. You can also add juniper berries. This is the essence of culture: to take whatâs fresh and, using tradition, extend by trying something different. Courtney encourages us to play around and taste frequently.
It takes just two or three days for the vegetables to begin to âsourâ, but theyâre better after up to six weeks. You can keep them for a year or more: this is a preservation technique, after all, but Courtney warns that they lose their crunchiness and she, for one, finds this less interesting. By massaging the mixture, the brine is released. Use a wooden masher if you have one to crush the juices out of the vegetables – itâs astonishing how much liquid they hold – and when thatâs done, put everything into a large preserving jar. It needs to not be airtight – it could explode – but muslinâs useful as a barrier to keep the culture you want in the jar, and what you donât want out of it. Parchment paper also works. Waste nothing. Use the outer leaves of the cabbage to press the chopped vegetables down and use a weight to keep them from floating to the surface, above the liquid, where theyâll be exposed to moulds you didnât invite. Use the juice from a previous batch to start the next one, and so on. The microbial content will alter with time, and that will in turn alter the flavour.
Kefir is the most powerful source of probiotics (bacteria and yeast that support the digestive process) in terms of quantity of flora per weight. The process of keffiring breaks down the lactose and caisein, particularly in cowâs milk, making it much more likely that those who are lactose intolerant – one of the attendees fell into this category- would be able to drink kefir than pasteurized cowâs milk.
Courtney shared her own experience that her allergies disappeared after regularly drinking kefir, which can be made from either cowâs or goatâs milk. Courtney has two goats herself and she enthused on their affectionate natures (âtheyâre just like dogs! Theyâve got such unique personalities!â. She grazes them with a couple of horses in a field behind her house, and the uses two shipping containers, one for housing them, one for milking and storage (the effort of milking is borne out in the taut muscles of her forearms which are as muscular as a sailorâs. She also squats while milking which, she assures us, is excellent for her glutes!).
Between talking, grating, mashing and gesticulating, Courtney passed round bottles of kefir, kombucha, ginger, and fruit soda. We poured a small amount to taste of each in turn into our emptied cups (weâd been given little cups of Chai to begin, with the sort of elegance usually reserved for a Japanese Zen tea ceremony). We discussed the difference between intolerance and allergy, and the importance of starting slowly. During our discussion, a clearer picture of Courtneyâs lifestyle emerged: her house is evidently a veritable fermentation factory, armies of bottles marshalled on every available surface not already occupied by the rows of jars squatting or stacked on shelves, eliciting a single, eloquent, âSeriously, Courtney?â from her partner.
We discussed the need to develop the hoarderâs habit when it comes to suitable containers. Grolsch bottles with the rubber gasket are good: youâll hear a buzzing, hissing sound as the the gasket lets excess gas escape. Sugar, lots of sugar, is an essential ingredient to feed the culture. Images of slave ships struggling to feed the ravenous but increasingly refined tastes of northern Europe and the Americas spring to mind. Fair trade is best!
As Courtney tackled opening a particularly lively grape soda, the discussion moved to safety tactics for dealing with potentially explosive bottles (exploding bottles are an occupational hazard for the inexperienced fermenter). Put the suspect bottle in a large jug or bowl, and open it under the umbrella of another jug (you need fierce dexterity for this), preferably not glass. And no, the fizz doesnât fill you up with wind: thereâs even evidence that kefir reduces flatulence in those who are lactose intolerant.
While we tasted the various concoctions, all good, fresh, interesting (alternately sharp, sour, sparkly, sweet and fruity on the tongue), Courtney began to describe making the next concoction, âginger bugâ. Start small, with non-chlorinated water, one teaspoon of sugar, one of ginger, and stirring the mix as often as possible for the next couple of days. Watch. After three or four days, carbonation builds up, youâll see little bubbles appearing at the edges. When itâs âlivelyâ, itâs ready to use as a starter for your homemade sodas: just add it to a sweetened juice or syrup. Cover with a muslin cloth (or, if youâre really strapped, a clean pillowcase, cut up). Beneficial yeasts from the air can then get through.
When making kombucha, you need tea and sugar and a starter. All the while, Courtney pounded with her âsauerkraut stamperâ, the only object (rejecting her alternative inheritance of an enormous collection of dolls) from her grand-aunt in Michigan who had herself inherited the stamper from the first immigrant ancestor of the family who had brought it from Germany in the eighteenth century. It was dark wood, stained purple with all the pounding of cabbage, but only marginally rounded at the edges.
Pickles were discussed. Cider apple vinegar. The air sharpened with memories. Water kefir. Something similar was made, one of the participants remarked, by her grandparents. She took some to her parents to taste and her father closed his eyes and said, âYou know, youâve brought me back fifty years!â In barrels in the corners of kitchens all over Scotland, the north of England and the northern half of the island of Ireland, people tended their âale plantâ. Some fed it molasses. It tasted of ginger, and sparkled slightly.
As she pounded, Courtney talked briefly about other things that could or could not successfully be incorporated into sauerkraut. Broccoli and kale can give off a pungent, unpleasant odour, unless used sparingly. Nettles do. Cucumbers need lots of salt. Caraway seeds work in white cabbage sauerkraut. Eastern European and French traditions were discussed. including different uses for fennel, and fennel seeds, and how every society has traditional remedies to increase the production of breastmilkâŠ
The conversation flowed as Courtney moved the discussion back and forth between cultures, coming back to the sauerkraut, pouring it into a huge jar, tamping it down and covering it with a cabbage leaf, at least two inches of liquid covering the vegetables. She talked a little more about developing the âginger bugâ, tending each topic like the cultures themselves – a moment of attention here, a tweak there. Culture, like conversation, needs nurturing until it gets active.
Finally, fruit soda, a brew made by boiling up a large pot of water with fruit – Courtney had redcurrants and grapes (how much? Again, she held her hands as though holding a small rugby ball to indicate the sort of quantity of fruit required), and sugar (two cups, but like all Courtneyâs advice, this was tempered with the suggestion that we taste as we go to see what works for us). Mash the fruit, squeeze everything through a muslin cloth (or the nearest equivalent). Wait for it to cool to body temperature or about 80 degrees F which is when the starter is happiest, and stir it all together in a demijohn or preserving vessel. Primary fermentation is when you add your biotic to the sweet liquid. To add fizz – thatâs secondary fermentation – store it in an airtight bottle and if needed, add another spoonful or two of sugar.
There were sixteen of us there, from France, Eastern Europe, various parts of Ireland, England, Scotland, and the US. She held us rapt. Play, she said. See what works. Donât worry about quantity. Respect tradition and learn as much as you can but the main thing is experimentation. The art of fermentation is a willingness to fail, and try again, and fail better. Like the evolution of societies themselves, the very roots of our cultural history were in symbiosis with bacteria and yeast. Bread and beer and wine are famously revered. Reviving an interest in their lesser known cousins – kefir, kombucha, sauerkraut, natural soda – marks a welcome and important revival.
Courtneyâs website is www.hipsandhaws.com
Another useful website is the American website www.culturesforhealth.com. It has endless recipes and instructions for all types of cultured foods. Particularly helpful are the free ebooks that you can download on signing up to their mailing list.
Fermentation workshop with Courtney Tyler in Common Ground 25 February
The next level fermentation workshop will take place on the last Thursday of this month in Common Ground in Bray. Again it will run from 8-10pm. 25th February 2016. Don’t forget to add it to your calendar!
Come learn how simple it is to make your own fermented delicacies. Learn too about the healing qualities and nutritional importance of live-culture ferments.
In this workshop we will cover different ferments than we did at the last event. We will learn how to make a gorgeous greek goats milk yogurt, how to make co-yo (coconut yogurt) 2 different ways, kefir cheese, fermented mung bean pancakes and also go over the basics of facto-fermenting vegetables and pickles.
I will bring some samples of these delicious products for you to taste on the night.
I will also have some mother cultures for purchase on the night for only âŹ5 if you’d like- such as kombucha and kefir.
Google maps for finding your way to Common Ground can be found below.
Booking is essential- book here to pay in full. The cost is âŹ18 for the evening or the discount of âŹ15 for current Common Ground members.
Contact Courtney at: courtney@fiercequirky.com or call 086-376-4189.
Click here to pay the deposit to book your place. Hope to see you there!
Austrian Pear Bread- Kletzenbrot
300 g Dried pears (Kletzen)
250 g Prunes
250 g Dried figs
100 g Raisins
150 g Nuts (e.g. Walnuts, Hazelnuts)
1 tsp. Allspice
1 tsp. Pimento
1 tsp. Ground cloves
1/2 cup Rum
5 tsp. Sugar
1 tsp. Cinnamon
1 tbsp Vanilla sugar
500 g Rye flour
200 g Wheat flour
1 sachet Dried yeast or 100 gâš Sourdough
1 tsp Salt
This is a recipe from my beloved Grandmother. I initially intended to keep this recipe in the family, but I feel good things need to be shared in order for them to survive and live on. I treasure this recipe and carry it on, as it gives me great memories of my childhood. And not only mine, but also my fatherâs, motherâs and brotherâs memories from our lives as a family. I bake it every year around Christmas time as this was usually the time when my grandparents would make it. Whenever I have the first bite, the same image comes back to my mind: Me being a little girl, sitting on the lap of my grandfather, eating Kletzenbrot with unsalted butter on top. I hope you enjoy this bread as much as I did and still do up until this day. Please refrain from using it in a commercial sense in order to value this recipe for what it is, a family treasure.
Thank you & enjoy!
Prepare the fruit mix
Cook the dried pears in water until soft. Cut them into chunks, as well as the figs and prunes. Put all of them into a big bowl, together with the raisins and nuts. Add the rum and leave it to rest for a few hours (over night works well, too). Add the sugar, vanilla sugar, cinnamon, all spice, pimento and ground cloves and leave to rest for another two hours.
Prepare the bread dough
Mix the flours, salt and yeast or sourdough, stir the dry mix with a fork before adding some liquid to cover. Leave the whole mix to rest until it raises (~ 45 â 60 mins). Best is a warm place with a wet table cloth over it. Add the fruit mix and about 3â4 cup of lukewarm water, let it rest again (~ 45 â 60 mins). Form into small to mid-sized loafs and bake at 160°C – 170°C for about 1- 1 1â2 hours (until dark brown on the outside).
Stored in a cool and dry place it is said this bread should last for months. It will be rock hard, but cut off a slice, add butter- enjoy with a warm cup of tea!
Danke Bettina!
Fermentation Workshop at Commonground
I held another fermentation event in Common Ground on the 4th February. It was a full room once again and we demonstrated making a large batch of sauerkraut in class and talked through:
The importance of live culture ferments, as a food, to increase the bio availability of vitamins and minerals, and to preserve food.
Kombucha, primary and secondary ferment
Milk Kefir
and Ginger bug to create your own easy healthy traditionally fermented probiotic sodas such as ginger ale.
The next one will take place in the same venue on the 25th February. See the attached poster for all that we will cover.
Booking essential to secure your place.