Cobras in the Compost by Andrew McIntyre

My friend Andrew was born in South Africa, educated in England and Scotland and now lives and writes in San Francisco. When I heard of his early experiences with his family's compost heap, I asked him to share them in my blog.

Cobras in the Compost

Bougainvillea

     In the late summer of 1967, we were living near Johannesburg, South Africa, in a large bungalow, five rooms,  with about two acres of land developed into a magnificent recreation of an English country garden, the legacy of my parents' nostalgia.

Bucolic rose garden

  
     Besides numerous varietals of rose, we grew mimosa, bougainvillea, and arum lilies, along with oranges, lemons, apricots, peaches and figs. The property ended with some mulberry trees, beyond which a narrow dirt road led into the veld.

Lemon trees in the garden

  
     Hidden under pine trees near the servants' quarters, an intimidating mound of pungent, moist green brown, the compost heap had expanded over the years into a very large insect infested pile of mowed lawn, rotting leaves and discarded vegetable matter. Fearful of what lay within, I was nevertheless captivated by the strange heat emanating from the interior.

Intimidating compost heap

  
     The warmth occasionally attracted visitors. Late one evening Samson, our Zulu garden boy, perceived movement as he washed under the tap near his room. He immediately informed my parents of the situation.
   "You're to stay out of the garden until further notice," said my father, "And Tosh too, keep him inside. Seems likely two Rinkhals are nesting in the compost heap. We'll try and get them tomorrow."
     Seldom more than a meter long, with a black or dark brown body, white bands near the head, the Rinkhals is also known as the Spitting Cobra. An aggressive snake, fast moving, very venomous, they are common throughout Southern Africa.
     Early next morning, in the chill of the still dawn air, Samson and my father hid, observing the heap. Nocturnal creatures, the snakes would return to hide during the day. They had to be killed together otherwise Samson would leave, fearing that the bereaved mate would seek revenge.  Rumors would spread, we might have trouble finding another Zulu.
     Sure enough, a slight stirring and one serpent returned, followed shortly by the other. Armed with a fork and a large stick, Samson rapidly raked the heap, while my father killed both snakes. I was allowed to view the results, fascinated as Samson held a limp hose-like body.
     He shouted Zulu, "Very bad snake now dead, Little Master."
     "Cobras," said my father, lighting a cigarette.
     Smashed in the detritus, about twenty eggs, yellow and sticky, quite unlike hen's eggs. The remains of the tiny unborn offspring, perfectly formed amid the gooey destruction.
      A month or so later, Samson was fired for drinking my father's whisky. You can't fool a Scotsman, he'd been replacing what he'd drunk with tap water. The morning of his departure was the first time I saw a man crying.  I missed my best friend.
     My father retired, and the house was sold. Dreaming of an England that never was, we boarded the RMS Pendennis Castle in Durban, expected destination Southampton. Transplanted from Africa to English boarding school,  I quickly forgot Zulu, and my feet grew soft.

RMS Pendennis Castle 

  
     Forty-five summers on, Johannesburg has spread, the house is now surrounded by suburbs. A nearby mall and a freeway have added to its value. The garden is still a kaleidoscopic idyll of rose bushes and fruit trees. The compost heap exudes its warmth, in that shaded area near the servants' quarters and, in the chilly nights, it attracts the occasional visitor.

        
                                                                  ~

MIDSUMMER'S EVE

On midsummer's eve, June 21st, I decorated my green bin with seasonal fruits, flowers and herbs to welcome the 2012 summer solstice. I realize that's a bit anthropomorphic, but it was great fun, and Green Bin didn't complain. This frivolity brought back memories of camping in Finland one long-ago midsummer's eve. This is one of Finland's most popular holidays and I was lucky to have participated.  The Finns decorated their cars with branches and, since it remained light all night,  they celebrated by lighting bonfires for good luck, grilling sausages, and alternately taking hot saunas and jumping into the frigid nearby lake.

Green bin decorated with lemons, hydrangeas, banana and cage free eggs

Green bin with peach, artichoke flower, lavender  and mint

FEATURED BOOK

In my cookbook collection, I found my favorite summer volume, Summer Food by Judith Olney, published in hardcover by Atheneum in 1978.  Mrs. Olney is the sister-in-law of Richard Olney, patron saint of Chez Panisse and author of such classics as The French Menu Cookbook and Simple French Food.  He lived in Provence most of his adult life, and Judith Olney's many Provencal  recipes reflect his influence.  I always liked this book for its lovely use of herbs, flowers and garden-fresh vegetables, and I remember enjoying her recipes for warm potato salad and flower garden soup.

Artichokes

                                     A FEAST FOR THE GREEN BIN

        

A good day for my kitchen green bin

In my Strawberry blog I neglected my green bin terribly, so this time I will make up for it by disposing of  multitudes of thick, thorny compost. We are talking about THE ARTICHOKE here, and green bin is lovin'  it!   I confess I am not a big artichoke fan; I approach them with caution and curiosity. Those prickly thorns on the tips of the tough leaves are dangerous, and the heart, the only really edible part of the plant, is surrounded by a hairy choke which must be removed. So much foliage for so little reward!  Of  course, my loss is green bin's gain. Pliny the Elder, the Roman naturalist, had a point when, in 77 A.D., he called the choke "one of earth's monstrosities." However, I do appreciate the fact that artichokes are actually  flower buds and if allowed to bloom, make a nice arrangement.

Flowering Artichokes

Perhaps my apprehension stems from the fact that I led an artichoke-deprived Midwestern childhood. My husband, however was plucking leaves and dipping them in melted butter at a tender age; he grew up in Walnut Creek, California and made annual trips to Carmel with his family. En route they passed nearby Castroville, "artichoke capital of the world!" Artichokes were everywhere. In fact, all artichokes commercially grown in the U.S. are grown in California.

Artichokes rule in Castroville

It was during my junior semester abroad in Florence when I first tasted an artichoke. One Sunday supper, Signora Rusconi, with whom I lived, served a frittata filled with strange, drab, inedible leaves.  Mamma Mia!  During the same semester I was doubly confused when I tasted a dark brown, bitter-sweet  Italian liqueur called Cynar, made from artichokes and thirteen different herbs. It purported to make foods that followed taste sweeter.  What a concept—  a vegetable unpleasant in both solid and liquid form!  But  Cynar's label was impressive. 

The Italian digestivo made from artichokes and herbs

It was not until twenty five years later that I discovered tender baby artichokes at a Berkeley farmer's market. After steaming them quickly and devouring the entire luscious morsels with only a little salt, I realized what the fuss was all about!

Artichokes at the Berkeley Farmer's Market

On a more recent trip to Rome, I enjoyed an international favorite,"Carciofi alla Giudea" (deep-fried artichokes, Jewish style) at Ristorante Piperno in Trastevere. Delicious as it is, I don't prepare it at home. More fear of frying.  Plus, I always need an excuse to return to ITALY!

Carciofi alla Giudea or deep  fried artichokes  (Rome) 

Ironically, the recipe I do make at home uses canned artichokes, not fresh.  I love it,  but my green bin doesn't approve.


 HOT ARTICHOKE-PARMESAN DIP


1 can artichoke hearts, drained and coarsely chopped
1/2 cup Parmesan cheese, grated
3/4 cup mayonnaise
2 green onions, chopped

• Heat oven to 350
• Mix all ingredients by hand or in food processor
• Spoon into shallow ovenproof dish
• Bake 15 to 20 minutes until hot and bubbly
• Serve warm with crackers, warm baguette slices or fresh vegetables

STRAWBERRY FIELDS FOREVER

SONG - Strawberry Fields Forever by the Beatles

Strawberry tarts  from a patisserie

My first memory of strawberries is a childhood breakfast: red summer berries circling a mound of white powdered sugar. My mother always used her favorite flat Norwegian bowls. My sister and I dipped each berry in the powdery pile. What heavenly flavors!  I have not repeated this ritual since then, but the magic lingers still.
Another fond childhood memory is the gallons of strawberry ice cream we ate during the  hot, humid  Wisconsin summers. We bought  this in cardboard cartons which were easy to dispose of , though we never considered that then. But the best  treat of all was strawberry shortcake, which I will discuss later.There's a lot to say about America's favorite dessert.

Now however, let's jump to the present and continue the story with my green bin. In Berkeley, if the weather cooperates, berries arrive in late March just in time for Easter,  and they continue in the markets until November. I eat them daily throughout most of their season, and I almost always buy them at the Farmer's Market. It's important to buy organic because strawberries are often sprayed and maintain a high pesticide residue.  I prefer Swanton Farm's sweet berries but I also like Lucero's. Mr. Lucero taught me how to store the berries: put them in a paper towel-lined Tupperware container, close the lid and refrigerate. This really slows spoilage. And I like to bring my empty container to the market and transfer the fruit right into it, leaving the mesh basket at the stand to be refilled by the vendor. This is catching on here; in fact, while I was photographing strawberries, three shoppers walked up with their containers. I try to avoid buying fruit packaged in plastic.  I'm so grateful to live in Berkeley where I have the option of buying produce and grains in bulk, without  packaging!

Mesh baskets at Lucero's at Berkeley's Farmers' Market

Plastic containers at Trader Joe's:  NO  NO  NO

At home I  rinse the berries lightly when I'm ready to use them and finally start collaborating with my green bin. The only inedible parts of a strawberry are the green leaves on top and their removal is called "hulling". You can do this with a tool called a strawberry huller or it can be done by hand. I like to pinch off the hull with my finger tips and flick it directly into my green bin. There's not  much compost here but the quantity of leaves I remove creating morning smoothies, evening cocktails (white wine with halved  berries is refreshing), fruit salads, spinach salads (pictured below) and  an occasional rhubarb-strawberry crisp, does add up. I think about making exquisite strawberry fritters that I tasted in a cooking class taught by Giuliano  Bugialli, the famous cookbook author, instructor and Tuscan scholar, though I never do.  Fear of frying, I guess. But the recipe, "Fragole in Camicia",  can be found in Bugialli's Italy.

Toni Koshlap's spinach salad

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE
"Old-fashioned shortcake is always made with biscuit dough, not cake, and is served with unsweetened heavy cream, unwhipped". So says Fannie Merritt Farmer in in her Original Boston Cooking-School Cookbook, 1896. I follow most of her advice when I make this quintessential and truly American summer dessert. I always use biscuit dough instead of cake, though I know controversy surrounds the subject.  I bake the biscuits immediately prior to serving, for they must be hot from the oven to qualify as perfect shortcake. Fork-split and lavishly buttered, these savory morsels are now ready for their gaudy topping of sweetened quartered berries and cream. Here, I part ways with Fannie and use lightly sugared, whipped cream . That is my ideal strawberry shortcake: buttered hot biscuits, sweetened ripe strawberries and  whipped cream laced with powdered sugar and vanilla.

Classic strawberry shortcake

Pictured below is my mother's recipe box, showing her "basic shortcake", written front and back on  an old 3x5 card. It contains many recipes in her handwriting, a nostalgic reminder of happy childhood hours spent in her kitchen. This particular recipe comes from an old stained copy of the classic,  The Settlement Cookbook, her favorite.

FEATURED BOOK

Today I'm  featuring The Compleat Strawberry by Stafford Whiteaker, published simultaneously in England by Century and  in New York by Random House Value, 1985. It's an amusing volume by a British enthusiast who celebrates the berry in art, poetry and song, with herbal remedies, gardening tips and seventy delectable recipes.  This charming book is readily available on-line.

Asparagus Season

                                              Harbinger of Spring               

Asparagus bundles at the Monterey Market in Berkeley http://www.montereymarket.com/

My green bin and I celebrate spring with ASPARAGUS. From March to May I feast almost daily on the sweet herbaceous tips and meaty spears of this treasured springtime staple while green bin, my kitchen companion, gets its fill of woody ends and slippery peels. I learned long ago to peel the stalks with my favorite wood-handled Henckels peeler, so little goes uneaten and green bin gets its share. Just when we are tiring of wintry Brussels sprouts, cabbage,  thick-ribbed kale and chard, out bursts this novel treat. First I notice that  Full Belly Farm http://www.fullbellyfarm.com/ is offering a few bunches to tease the impatient shoppers at our Tuesday Farmers' Market. These bundles disappear quickly. But soon  large quantities pop out at all the Berkeley markets and we can pick and choose: purple or green, thick or thin, tips or spears, organic or not.

Purple Asparagus from Riverdog Farm http://www.riverdogfarm.com/at Saturday's Market

At the height of the season Riverdog offers tender tips as well as bunches

 I always head straight for the tips which are delicious and a better value.  Fortunately, I am often the only one scooping up these delectables.  I wonder if it is because it is more work to select each spear than to grab a tethered bunch. As a fellow shopper quipped " That is my kind of work!"

Safely home with my bounty, I try to remember  my favorite asparagus recipes.  Every year I make a delicious Sicilian soup with rice, pancetta, onion and asparagus from The Best of Italian Cooking  by Waverly Root;  and I'm dreaming about the fabulous Savory Bread Pudding layered with Leeks,Asparagus, Fontina and Fresh Herbs in Georgeanne Brennan's beautiful cookbook  Potager.  I create pastas incorporating other spring vegetables  like sugar snap  peas, snow peas, green garlic and spring onions now  flooding the markets.

Sugar snap peas and Fava beans offered  by Catalan Farm at the Berkeley Farmers Market

 And I always get around to Chop Chop Salad, an intriguing stir-fry recipe that I  discovered years ago in Gourmet Magazine.  It includes tuna, or perhaps salmon, carrots, beans (not yet in season here but imported form Mexico), onions  and more. This is a hard recipe to track down since it is not listed as such on the Epicurious website (where recipes from Gourmet and Bon Appetit are published).  I finally find it again in the book Gourmet Every Day and it's actually called "Stir fry tuna 'chop chop' salad."  I think "chop chop salad" is catchier  but that always leads to a long search. Of course, since I prefer the simplest method, I usually steam my asparagus and sometimes roast it at  a high temperature coated in olive oil and salt. But my favorite preparation is one I found in Saveur Magazine  about five years ago.  I make this one almost weekly during the season; it's called "Asparagi alla Milanese".  The word "Milanese" refers to the fact that the recipe contains butter instead of olive oil,  not that it comes from Milan. It contains only four ingredients but the result is pure delight. Just steam approximately ten asparagus spears per person, slip one or two eggs, fried in butter,  onto the warm spears and then sprinkle liberally with Parmesan cheese. That's it!  Beautiful, easy and as good as it gets. Try it while the season lasts.

Asparagi alla Milanese- Asparagus,butter, eggs and Parmesan cheese

I often make this for Sunday supper using up the vegetables I bought the day before. Sometimes I add ham or fresh peas which are coming in season. And because it is such a simple meal, the only scraps are eggshells, peels and pods, making for an easy evening for My Green Bin.

FEATURED BOOK
I've decided to feature a pertinent book in each of my blogs whenever possible. Today I'm recommending a classic,  Stalking the Wild Asparagus,  first published by David McKay in 1962. This book is about  gathering wild food and making use of it.  Euell Gibbons, the author, foraged for multitudes of wild species all his life. He wrote about the plants, ate them and shared his  adventures and recipes in this collection. His style is delightful and his enthusiasm is infectious. There is a wonderful chapter about his boyhood experiences  stalking wild asparagus in New Mexico, which is, of course, why I'm mentioning him in this blog. The book has been reprinted many times, and pictured below is the field guide edition published in 1970. I own this version and I love the cover photo. Foraging is a popular activity in my area and he was one of the first to  describe its joys and usefulness.

Cover of the Field Guide  Edition  from 1970 

The Green and Gorgeous Kohala Coast of Hawaii

On May 14th, I flew with my husband to the Big Island of Hawaii, but my Green Bin had to stay home with the cat. I wondered how I would survive without it for nine days. But to my surprise and delight, a compost container, actually a crock with a ventilated cover, was sitting on the counter of the charming James Cottage on the Puakea Ranch http://www.puakearanch.com/ where I was staying.  I was skeptical since it was white and not green but I was willing to put it to the test. I hoped to do a lot of feasting, cooking and composting Hawaiian-style on my vacation.

White ceramic compost crock

Maximum charm, minimum counter space in James Cottage

Before arriving at the ranch, we picked up supplies of local produce like pineapple, papayas, bananas, broccoli and limes,  as well as Trader Vic's Mai Tai, Myers rum, and coffee. Miraculously I discovered beautiful, vibrantly-colored mangoes at the fruit stand in Kauaihae. After ten previous trips to the islands I finally hit mango season. They are sublime!  But after stocking up I discovered that there was a mango tree right next to us, and when the trade winds blew, they thumped down on our roof and thudded to the ground, growing increasingly ripe throughout our stay. Mango heaven! Compost hell! Could the little white crock do the job and compete with green bin? All these tropical fruits have fibrous, thick and sticky skins which produce mountains of compost material. Coffee grounds contribute more grainy mulch, but here, unlike Berkeley, bones and meat products are not allowed. The final resting place for all this messy material is the compost bin in the lovely garden on the property. Since most disposable cups in Hawaii are compostable, they too are thrown into the mix.

Chard freshly picked from the garden

Typical melange of Hawaiian Compost in Earth Work Bin

Mangoes and Papayas at the fruit stand in Kawaihae

At the Saturday Farmers' market  in the tiny town of Hawi only two miles from the ranch, I found these irresistible mango tarts, large and small.  I bought a small one and devoured it on the spot.  The market consisted mainly of pastry and craft stands but there was one farmer from four miles away who sold beautiful vegetables. I bought only broccoli. The carrots were tough and woody, and I had chard and beets in "my" garden. No carrot tops for the white crock. And certainly no leftovers from the mango tart pictured below.

Fresh Mango pie at the Saturday Farmer's Market in Hawi

We  were allowed to collect eggs freshly laid by hens in the chicken coop just a few yards from our cottage. We enjoyed these beautiful birds and visited often to scout for eggs which we boiled on our electric burner. Once, we made an omelet with basil, parsley, beet greens and chard from the garden. It was such a joy to harvest herbs and veggies to our heart's content.

Freshly laid eggs

Stoveless cooking made easy
 (note white bin in background)

Selecting garden herbs for an omelet 

Our evening meals consisted mainly of ultra-fresh fish from our favorite fish store in Kawaihae, recommended by locals at the dive shop where we rented snorkel gear.  We had a great grill, so that took care of cooking equipment and I created marinades from the condiments in our cupboards:
olive oil, soy sauce, lime juice, local ginger and just a bit of our Mai Tai cocktails. I coined the name Mai Tai Mahi Mahi for this recipe. Then we tried local Monchong and we were smitten. Mai Tai Monchong was equally delicious. We boiled local red potatoes on our burner and seasoned them with butter, parsley, oregano and salt. Great with fish, and simple!

Our Favorite Fish Store where we bought Mahi Mahi and Monchong

The Trusty Grill

Beehive Ginger seen in the Botanical Gardenhttp://htbg.com

It turns out that Hawaii is a very green state. On the Big Island there are recycle bins everywhere,  containers and cups are eco-friendly, and farmers' markets abound. Wind turbines generate electric energy, geothermal power is obtained from nearby volcanoes Mauna Loa and Mauna Kea,  and locally grown biomass such as eucalyptus is also used to supply the island with electricity.  There is a highly visible and exciting green consciousness here.

Recycle bins at Mahu Kona - A favorite local swimming spot

Takata Store, our local favorite

Footnote:
I was very impressed with the white crock's composting performance but I'm happy to be heading home to my Green Bin and ample counter space. Aloha for now.

Monday Morning

Kitchen green bin with curbside bin

Another Monday morning and the ecology center trucks are rumbling around my neighborhood collecting compost and plant debris from this week's composting and gardening activity. Pictured at left is my kitchen green bin emptying its contents into the large curbside bin. All the recycling bins are stashed near the street ready for pickup. Below is a closeup of the colorful contents of my curbside bin following the last deposit of roughage: a colorful still-life of repasts enjoyed and detritus shared with my green bin. Notice the wine cork,   a recent entry into green bindom when I am too lazy to trek to Kermit Lynch's wine shop where they would be recycled . No more corks in the garbage! One more step to zero waste..

Here you see a typical selection of early spring compost: orange rinds, aging kale, broccoli and spring onion leftovers and leaves of the now ubiquitous strawberry peeking out. YUM ! Usually I steam my broccoli crowns and tender stalks, organic of course, in my favorite all-clad steamer. My green bin gets only the tough, dry lower stalks. But this specimen was definitely "compost ready" as my sister would say, so green bin enjoyed the whole  package; broccoli florets and all. No need for a recipe here since I prefer  broccoli simply steamed and sprinkled with sea salt rather than any rich preparation. I don't think it even needs butter if the vegetable is fresh, vibrant and organic like my favorites from Full Belly Farm at the farmer's market right now.  Oh, and at bottom far right you can spot the carton from a scoop of cardamom rose ice cream enjoyed at the Tuesday farmers market, served in a paper cup , transported home to be composted. The reappearance of the "Ici" ice cream stand definitely confirms spring's arrival. Whenever they offer a flavor with rose or cardamom or marsala, I can't resist.

That's it for this week's compostable contribution. Soon I'll have to find out where Berkeley's green  waste actually goes when it is picked up in those noisy trucks. Since I don't garden, all mine goes in my trusty green bin. We're working together for fun and a healthier planet.

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