Beans and apricots actually rock together

Who would have thought? After long abstinence, here a little throw-together-what-is-left = beauty recipe, now from South Africa where I roam right now. The abundance of vegetables and people who know how to make beautiful salads out of them is amazing, and so is all that comes in my little weekly bag from Wild organics, just around the corner. For some reasons they decided to drown their customers in a wave of apricots, plums and nectarines all at the same time, being so beautifully ripe that they spoil by just looking at them.


That's why I threw some of the millions of apricot in with something that is basically a classic beans-tomato chili, but now with freshness and bright colours, much better for the summer days here than its classic form. And because I loved it so much, here is how:

-150g of dry, white or speckled beans (African sugarbeans I took. Borlotti might work wonders)
-a 400g can of chopped tomatoes
-a heaped teaspoon of ground cumin
-a pinch of good chili powder
-an onion
-a bit of neutral oil (sunflower, canola ...)
-a good handful of fresh basil
-4 apricots, with a bit of bite to them


Soak the beans a couple of hours and cook them until edibly soft, then drain. Chop the onion, fry it in some oil, after 5 minutes add the cumin and fry with for about 2 minutes. Add the tomatoes, the beans and the apricots, let them simmer for about 15 minutes. Season with salt and the chili and right before serving, stir in the chopped basil.

Showbags of beans

Above is a moment I love; opening a dirty brown wet bean pod without knowing what's in it (yes, I forgot which bean I planted where, classic) and in it a perfect little bean, red, white, lemony, speckled or brown (above you see Canadian Wonder, which alas had interbean-intercourse with, I assume, the originally rather brown Lazy Housewife, now their children are either faintly rosé or kidneybeancolour with white speckles. No seedsaving this year). The borlotti on the right found a home way above the Danish yellow pumpkin and still take a while to have seeds that can be dried for next year's garden. Now all of the beans (Dutch brown and lemon bean, besides the two sorts that had too close an affair) dry on a sheet besides the laptop fan.
As the bean weevil had a great summer vacation and ate through pretty much every single of the hundreds of John's holy beans in my room and then expanded himself into every corner and bedsheet wrinkle of my bedsheet, I'll try the freezing thing this year: dry the beans until really really dry (somebody suggested the hammer test: crush one with a hammer. If it cracks it's dry. It's still too wet when it just crushes gently, well). Then freeze at least 8 days and dry again, put them in glass jars after and hope the weevils pack their traps and leave to other far away beans.

Kunsthal kookt

Last weekend, Rotterdam turned a part of its art museum into a food cornucopia. Although mainly for restaurant people, caterers or people with a thick pocket, it was still obvious that good food these days more and more focuses on marketing itself in the same breath as environmentally concerned, socially good, culturally rooted. That's why you could see (and smell and TASTE) fantastic cheeses, produce from the Ark of Taste of Slow Food NL, endless variations of raspberries or the prettiest cupcakes of Lisette Kreischer, while passing by the longest moestuin (uhm: allotment garden), prepared by Rotterdam school children and displayed proudly: I was enjoying the sun outside behind the stand of the Youth Food Movement, or in front in a nun dress, trying to convince people to confess their foodsins on camera. Maarten made people amazed and happy with 1-day young apple juice, while Sam and Jiri filled hungry stomachs with self-made sausages from very happy pigs.

In between happened all the small and not so small talks to people about, guess what, food, and what and why the YFM does around it. Towards the end of the day an old lady walked by and was probably the happiest person on earth discovering that kunsthal kookt happened that weekend, telling she had forgotten until half an hour ago and quickly passed by before it closed for that day. The apple juice reminded her of her twenties when she fled post-war Germany and worked for a Dutch apple farmer and was still able to wear high-heels she informed everyone, then laughed and passed on into the kunsthal.






Beautiful berries from the delivery service Bio aan huis

Sharing almonds

10 am in the kitchen, grasshopper looking for almond snack (or just better weather to go outside again):

After the deluge: porcini!

After nearly two weeks of pouring rain and no true August in sight, Friday and Saturday had finally brought a blazing 26 degrees back again. And with it popped up mushrooms, among them a bunny-sized one in our backyard, most likely inedible but quite cute. After venturing in vain for the gigantic white puffball we settled for a lurid bolete close to our house. My mum pointed us at him referring to the Polish hauler who turns up at my dad's factory about once a year and manically crawls beneath the trees, taking bags of this lurid bolete (and offering them to my frightened mum who happily refuses). Not us! (we thought.) But then, slight discomfort arose thinking of an intense mushroom death, albeit psychedelic it might be.

This made me go to Pete's dad today who collects mushrooms for years and just walked over the doorway, still dripping from the rain that decided to revisit, now with 100 litres tonight.

In his hand though a shopping bag full of porcini which he proudly showcased and turned right into a steaming, meaty mushroom mess. Cut them in thin slices, fry in oil or butter until most of the liquid has gone and then add a finely cubed onion for about every 150-200g of mushrooms, leave to become translucent, add half a crushed garlic clove, and leave it be for 2 more minutes. Then season with salt, pepper and a good handful of parsley. Pete's dad put a sourdough bread with cold butter to serve on the side, good for adding something substantial and perfectly complementary.

So if you have some rain and then some sun around this time of the year, check out the base of beech trees on your next walk out, maybe you can find some of these tasty fellows (here's how by Leslie Land, nothing more to say)!

Strawberry Fields Forever?

Imagine nearly a thousand varieties of strawberries, then take more than a hundred varieties of gooseberries, raspberries and countless other fruit and berry seeds and their living plants in a field, 90% of it only found in this special place: the Pavlovsk Seed Station, found outside of St. Petersburg, Russia.
Initiated in 1926 by the dedicated Nikolai Vavilov, it has been saved through a worldwar (amongst others due to starvation of the scientists dedicated to the survival of the countless peas, beans and other seeds that could have saved their life), and decades of socialist regime plus the onset of capitalist Russia which now could be its death sentence. Private housing estate has seized the land and the final decision if one of the oldest global seed banks can be bulldozed for houses will be decided this week in the Russian court.
Relocation of the seed station is impossible as it is an in situ conservation station: no preservation in coolers and movable packages but largely on fields and in gardens where seeds can further adapt and exhibit traits that might be highly valuable for future agriculture. Think drought resistant species, think flooding resistant species, think early or late maturing species, finally think much-more-tasteful-than-now species.
Please sign the petition of Martin Wik Fowler whose dad has been working a big part of his life (amongst many others!) on building and preserving this unique collection of agrobiodiversity. If you would like to read some of the interesting press coverage, check out BBC, the Guardian or USA Today.

Public fruit tree map, finally for Europe!

Once upon a time five friends (one of them above) have gone on a rowing trip, and saw many fruit trees on the shore that bore even more fruit. They realized that the fruit they took for their trip came from Argentina and how the fruit on the riverbench wasn't taken by anyone and how that made for a bit of a sad situation. The idea of a public fruit tree map for Europe (and beyond?) was born. Now it is alive: mundraub.org (mundraub = a charming German word for hand-to-mouth theft of food) and also shows herbs, nuts, berries and even juice mills. If you're capable of reading or writing German, use it across the whole Europe map by finding and adding (even Morocco features some public lemon trees)! The idea behind is that so many public fruit trees, as well as private fruit trees, bear beautiful fruit that no one harvests and that rot away while we import apples from New Zealand or Walnuts from the US. Web 2.0 has found another way for those trees, and also private tree owners that do not have the time or interest to harvest their tree are called to make an entry allowing harvesting of their fruit. This project has gotten some good press coverage lately and even received the German sustainability award. Yay for public food!

I've known of such thing before from San Francisco, with the neighborhoodfruit site. There though you have to register (for free) but a nice little fruit ripe alarm is included, so you can get a notice of ripe cherry trees in the city on your phone, for example.

Not bad? Not bad! Now we only need to wait for the global map, accessible in everyone's language. Volunteers?

The 100 mile diet - days 3-5

Above you see the pizza progression of Thursday, long in the making, short in the eating and so longed for. Only the yeast had an unknown descent. We have gotten to some limits, a big one named travelling that makes it virtually impossible to eat anything local, unless you prepare it beforehand and take it with (which, ironically, makes for well-travelled food again).

Potatoes do take a major part for carbohydrates unless you love to bake. Yesterday we were in the Netherlands, standing in the shop and trying to withstand a major craving for pasta, sad about all those Italian noodles there, and having too big an appetite to make it ourselves. A quick look into the cooling shelf made our stomach jump up and down in excitement - local and fresh pasta! Some cream, shii take mushrooms (yes, gastronomically far, but they did come from the next village) plus leek and extra strong poke-in-the-eye onions from the garden were heaven.

Two more days to go and we start thinking about what we will eat first on Monday night; it usually involves chocolate and coffee ...

Day 2 of 100 miles

Today was much easier than yesterday! Eggs & bread for breakfast and then a little bikeride to the market, a local organic farm grew so much themselves that we got tomatoes, salad, spring onions, courgette and even eggplant and pointed pepper which made Jonas very happy. Some carrotcheese and eggs were also found and tonight's dinner was a courgette potatoe spring onion oven dish, topped with some cream and oven roasted tomatoes, plus a good salad as a starter.

Still: We ate a pineapple about to perish (why let things go to waste?). Vera offered us a piece of melon (why pass up on friendly offers?). Some wine to accompany dinner. But no coffee today!

100 miles a week

Last summer, Jonas and I went wwoofing (great thing but to that, another time) on beautiful Channel island Guernsey. A great couple hosted us and among all of the inspiring things they have spent their life with was (if I remember correctly a week of) the 100 mile diet: eat only what's been grown, reared or caught 100 miles (yes, 160 kilometres) around you. While in process, taste what your region has to offer, be surprised at what it should have to offer but does not (anymore), find out how it is to minimize food miles, eat fresh, talk to people providing your food in order to track down the way it might have travelled. Have fun hunting it down!

This summer we thought why not give it a try and see how we might emerge in this 1 week-plea. So many things are in season right now, we are in Oldenburg (close to the Northern Sea = fish!), many milkproducts are produced in this region ... Should be easy?

Today was day 1, and we decided to start after lunch time shopping. Oh the lunch hunger. We had to wait and ran right into some rueful extension of our non-100 mile diet. Canteen meal: Pikeperch from Russia, potatoes from who knows where. Aww.

But then! Monday is the worst day in Oldenburg to start a 100 mile diet, because it is the only weekday without a farmers market. This fact made us bike and bike, only to find a store that prouds itself on "quality right from the producer", in it a lady that informed us only strawberries and the long-gone asparagus are from their farm. The rest comes from wholesalers. Off to the organic supermarket besides, maybe they know something about the origin of their produce?

Nope. Only country indications. Nearly hopeless we saw ourselves eating bread and butter for dinner and were about to leave when a little label in an onion box poked my eye. Turned out nearly every veggie box has one, specifying their place of origin (if you're ever interested)! Turned out only carrots, runner beans and the very disliked fennel were regional. We chose for the former, some milk, butter and cream (local creameries in abundance, thank you region), and took some red mullet from the Northern Sea on the way back. Looked for suitable potatoes and only got as regional as the Pfalz. Quite some more kilometres than expected. But we had to eat some carbs too ... With some herbs from the balcony, plus eggs and butter made into a Hollandaise, everything turned out to be a nice little dinner:

Strawberry Mob

On Saturday it happened! Youth Food Movement Netherlands (born out of Slow Food NL) took a tractor, put Jan Robben and 400 boxes of his smaakaardbeien (Dutch for: wonderfultastestrawberries) on the back and drove right onto the grass in front of the museumsplein in the centre of Amsterdam. Via facebook and related media plus lots of word to mouth, the strawberry mob had been organized, now ready to completely buy out the 400 boxes within a quarter of an hour.

Why the mob, why the fuss, why the fun? Jan Robben is a strawberry farmer who selects for the taste of his fruit, not their shelf life. This makes him different to what supermarkets expect of strawberry farmers and that is why he has a hard time getting into there. In order to raise awareness and to motivate consumers to ask for such tasteful little fruits at their retailers, YFM, Jan Robben and the smaakardbeien made this trip to the city, threw a jazzy party after and let those not filled up yet taste all the different kind of strawberries from local farmers. What a delight! Note: For tomorrow (9th of July) there is a connected YFM action thingi, so if you happen to be Dutch, grab your phone and call the PLUS supermarket in your neighbourhood to ask whether they have some Jan Robben strawberries!

When I travelled on with my two boxes, the smell alone of the strawberries made a store owner peek into my bag and ask what kind of strawberries I have there. I offered her but she refused to, because they are not organic- Jan Robben does use a minimal amount of pesticides and mineral fertilizers though, has a whole biodiversity plan laid out and implements water- and energy saving measures. But in times of anonymous farmers, people can only believe labels, often shunned by farmers because of the costs that come with it (Jan Robben is certified under the milieukeur label though, but which average consumer makes his way alive through the label jungle these days?). Buying from farmers you know can help. Glad that I got to know Jan Robben and thumbs up for his website! Imagine every farmer had a website explaining practices, philosophy and even camping possibilities close to his farm (alas, only in Dutch)!

Elderflower goodness

Lately I went to Romania for an excursion, and met, amongst others, people from Slow Food who set up processing facilities for fruit in order to allow the local women to process their harvest and market it better. The day we came they had just finished making elderberry sirup and proudly handed out glasses of the wonderfully flowery drink. My Canadian friend had never tasted such and so the plan was born to make some at home. Today it happened. The eldertree in John's garden already showed signs of the coming fruit, but still boasted lots of white flowerheads. I worked them into the basic cordial recipe, for which you need 4kgs of sugar, 2 litres of boiled water, about 30 heads of elderflower (as I learned too late, try to get off as much of the stems and twigs as possible, they might end up making your cordial taste bitter) and 4 sliced lemons. Bring it all together, let it rest (with the occasional stir, once or twice a day) for 3-5 days and then pour through a cloth. Bring to the boil again, then fill into sterilized glasses or bottles and it will last months. The uses are endless ... But apparently, the classic mixture with water has been the thing to do in Victorian times. Icecream, Prosecco or pancakes are equally good friends with it.

If sirup is not your thing, check out the Bavarian Hollerküchln; fried elderflowers! Beautifully set in scene by Nicky from delicious days.

Time for Beans

9th of May is the classic day for putting beans out into the open because the ice saints (11th - 15th of May) who can bring the last frost of the year will be over by the time the beans poke out their fleshy shoots. This year I will sow six different species: on the very left you see what is dubbed the "holy bean" because to the matters-of-holy-adept, its black pattern looks like an angel with a halo. It is followed by the "Lazy Housewife", an uncomplicated South-African specimen, apparently for those with little time to spend on bean-rearing. Then comes "Canadian Wonder", a classic Kidney bean, followed by an old Dutch brown bean which I collected in an outdoor farming history museum in Arnhem last year. The second to last is the pretty but rather demanding Borlotti bean and eventually we have the Lemon bean, with the handsome colour of brimstone butterflies.

In Germany we say : "Beans want to hear the bells ring" referring to their need for not sowing them too deep (a small finger's breadth does the job). Another proverb indicates bean's liking for a sufficiently warmed up soil: "Put beans in the soil when a virgin can cross the garden naked".

Thus: Let the bells ring, get the naked virgins into the open, it is time for the beans to start their year!

Becoming a little bit of a farmer?

CASFS University Farm in Santa Cruz/California

Northamerica has its first school dedicated to teach you how to start becoming an urban farmer! It is newly opened this year, called Richmond Farm School (in Richmond/Canada) and part of Kwantlen Polytech University, who co-authored this project together with the municipality of Richmond. It is a half-year programme, consisting of various practicals and theory. The graduates have the option to lease 1-5 acres of municipal land (so-called incubator plots) to start off an urban farming enterprise, with ongoing support from the programme. All in the name of rebuilding local food systems, reducing food miles and adapting to growing urban demand of food. You can read a good portrait (including programme outline, prices, time frame) on City Farmer News.

The whole thing reminded me of the beautiful farm at the Center for Agroecology and Sustainable Food Systems (CASFS) at the University of Santa Cruz/California which I visited two years ago. They have a similar programme in place where apprentices spend half a year (literally day and night, if they opt to stay in the on-farm apprentice housing) on the 22-acre farm, also having practical as well as theoretical lessons in sustainable farming and connected issues. Graduates not only become farmers but often disperse into the worlds of working within (local) food networks, academics, writing, politics, ... you name it. To me, mainly because of the immersion into it, this (more than 40 years old) programme seems to be a bit more in-depth, also because it offers about 1000 hours of teaching, as compared to 350 (formal) hours with the Richmond Farm School (both costs around 5000$). But to be fair: the latter just started up and might (and hopefully will) grow considerably in size.

Let's hope projects like these will keep sprouting, budding and spreading, yielding people and farms that are able to feed us better than our current food systems can!

Picnic series, #1! - Jadebusen

This is Jonas together with our picnic case, napping at the Jadebusen dike (erotic name for a rather romantic area in Northern Germany where the sea has eaten a "busen" (translate: bosom) into the land). Featured: salmon pasta salad, aubergine dip, pistacchio dip, baguette, those two apples you see there. Red wine of course.

This is the first of my picnic series, a little celebration of the combination of two very good things: food and the outsides! While wandering the web for the actual meaning of this word I classically stumbled across a vast array of definitions. Well, who cares. Much better is the fact that there used to be the Picnic Society (unacademic wikipedia quote):

Early in the 19th century, a fashionable group of Londoners formed the 'Picnic Society'. Members met in the Pantheon on Oxford Street. Each member was expected to provide a share of the entertainment and of the refreshments with no one particular host. Interest in the society waned in the 1850s as the founders died.

Sad ending? No! At least in New York some people have revived this idea, meeting in Central Park around food and this simple, beautiful idea. Feels like this could be a good addition to things like Eat Ins, Flashmobs, or Surprise Dinners. Sounds like a plan?

Asparagus rise

A German asparagus memorial (yes, we like them white and earth them up for that purpose. I'm all for the green ones though)

The asparagus in the allotment plot that I'm taking care of for my travelling housemate behaves a bit like a chamaleon. It has spring colors and fits perfectly into the shades of green and yellow all around it. I always have to squat in different angles to spot all the little upcoming stalks. And only once I thought I have them all in my bag ready to come home with me, there is the most beautiful one standing upright under the elderberry tree, like it wonders why I didn't put it with its buddies yet. So I take it home, too, and they all rejoin in a dish which originates from Nigel Slater's wonderful book "Tender". Straight-forward, grounded cooking (although admittedly a bit towards the fatty side at times, you have to like that British way of adding lots of flavor). His idea of joining asparagus with cardamom, a bit of cinnamon, thyme and cumin into a pilaf, joined by fava beans and a mint joghurt made my belly really happy.

Summer in April, warm welcome

A strangely hot day in April, at least here in the Netherlands, and finally some raindrops after the strawberries had already started to wilt. This blog's first post, co-celebrating with the first asparagus harvest, both crooket, still a bit uncertain, quite green and yet certainly tasty. Off to a fruitful season!