It is once again the time of year when the rhubarb crowns go from "tiny new spring-announcing shoots" to "enormous rhubarb-triffids" pretty much overnight. Rhubarb crumble is good, as is rhubarb jam, but I thought I'd try something different this spring, and make rhubarb juice.
I used this recipe (summary: chop stalks into inch-ish chunks, cover with water, add a teaspoon of honey, boil for half an hr, then pour off the juice), and got 700ml of juice from maybe 10 decent-sized stalks. A teaspoon of honey was plenty (I might not bother with any at all another time).
The juice is nice neat; but even better with a little vodka, a couple of icecubes, and a sprig of mint. Very refreshing.
I turned the leftover pulp into rhubarb bread, using this vegan banana bread recipe. I estimated the volume of rhubarb pulp at about 2 bananas' worth or a little more, so halved all the other quantities, and cut out the water as the rhubarb was pretty damp. Cooked for an hour at 180oC, it came out wonderfully. A bit like rhubarb crumble in cake form.
Next time I might try rhubarb liqueur.
Monday, 19 April 2010
Friday, 9 April 2010
A most relaxing week
I spent an incredibly relaxing week over Easter at the Ecolodge in Old Leake, Lincs, with my partner doop and Sidney-the-dog.
The Ecolodge belongs to a lovely couple called Geri and Andy, who live in the house next door to it (the houses are sufficiently separate that you don't see them unless you want to). It's entirely offgrid: the electricity comes from a wind turbine and solar panels, there's a compost loo, rain-water is collected for showering (although there is one tap in the kitchen which has mains drinking water), and heating and hot water are handled by a wood-stove in the main room. The stove is obviously usable for cooking as well – we did 90% of our cooking on it, but did use the little two-burner gas ring to boil the kettle.
One of the major attractions for us was the lack of 'proper' electricity. All the plugs in the place are 110V DC, so you need a special sort of plug for them, and you can't just plug in your usual electrical kit. Which means no phones, no laptops, no iPod speakers... Instead, we read, knitted (in my case), did one of the jigsaws we found on the shelves, cooked, and chatted. A couple of times I switched the battery-operated radio onto Radio 3, but mostly I was happy just to listen to the birdsong and the subdued roar and crackle of the stove.
There's a couple of acres of mixed woodland and meadow out the back, which Sidney particularly appreciated as it featured pheasants. If you are a 1-year-old lurcher cross who's never been out of the city before, pheasants are, apparently, about the most fun it is possible to have. Happily she didn't actually catch any, in large part because even the dopiest pheasant would have heard her coming from some distance away as she crashed merrily through the undergrowth. doop and I followed behind more sedately, watching the process of spring springing, with the trees bursting into leaf and the flowers starting to appear.
There are a couple of flattish local walks, or you can go a bit further afield if you're not limited by having to take the dog along. We also spent an afternoon in the Art Stop, a slightly battered caravan equipped with pencils, crayons, paints, paper, and a box of fossils. I had enormous fun playing with colours like a 4-year-old. There's also jigsaws (we completed a 500-piece one over around 6 hours and felt immensely proud), kids' games, and a box of dominos (although neither of us could remember the rules).
Cooking on the wood stove is a slow process. It sometimes felt like our days revolved pleasantly around food (planning it and minding it), but the actual work involved was minimal. Just chuck another log or two on the stove every 45 minutes or thereabouts. We made one stew that was in the oven for over 24 hours (although not actually being cooked overnight), and it was sensational. Veggies were provided by the local organic farm, and there's free-range eggs available locally as well. When we needed anything, doop set off on his bike to the Co-op in the village, 4 km away. Apparently cycling in this part of the world is a little bracing (read: windy).
I came back feeling incredibly relaxed and peaceful, and determined to spend more of my time not plugged into the internet. Indeed, I wrote this on my first no-wireless-at-home day on Wednesday (and have only just got around to posting it). Just switching off from everything was fantastic, and I felt so much better for slowing down. I may not be able to spend all day every day kicking back on the sofa while I'm back in London, but I do want to recreate some of that peace here. I'll update with how it's going after a month.
The Ecolodge belongs to a lovely couple called Geri and Andy, who live in the house next door to it (the houses are sufficiently separate that you don't see them unless you want to). It's entirely offgrid: the electricity comes from a wind turbine and solar panels, there's a compost loo, rain-water is collected for showering (although there is one tap in the kitchen which has mains drinking water), and heating and hot water are handled by a wood-stove in the main room. The stove is obviously usable for cooking as well – we did 90% of our cooking on it, but did use the little two-burner gas ring to boil the kettle.
One of the major attractions for us was the lack of 'proper' electricity. All the plugs in the place are 110V DC, so you need a special sort of plug for them, and you can't just plug in your usual electrical kit. Which means no phones, no laptops, no iPod speakers... Instead, we read, knitted (in my case), did one of the jigsaws we found on the shelves, cooked, and chatted. A couple of times I switched the battery-operated radio onto Radio 3, but mostly I was happy just to listen to the birdsong and the subdued roar and crackle of the stove.
There's a couple of acres of mixed woodland and meadow out the back, which Sidney particularly appreciated as it featured pheasants. If you are a 1-year-old lurcher cross who's never been out of the city before, pheasants are, apparently, about the most fun it is possible to have. Happily she didn't actually catch any, in large part because even the dopiest pheasant would have heard her coming from some distance away as she crashed merrily through the undergrowth. doop and I followed behind more sedately, watching the process of spring springing, with the trees bursting into leaf and the flowers starting to appear.
There are a couple of flattish local walks, or you can go a bit further afield if you're not limited by having to take the dog along. We also spent an afternoon in the Art Stop, a slightly battered caravan equipped with pencils, crayons, paints, paper, and a box of fossils. I had enormous fun playing with colours like a 4-year-old. There's also jigsaws (we completed a 500-piece one over around 6 hours and felt immensely proud), kids' games, and a box of dominos (although neither of us could remember the rules).
Cooking on the wood stove is a slow process. It sometimes felt like our days revolved pleasantly around food (planning it and minding it), but the actual work involved was minimal. Just chuck another log or two on the stove every 45 minutes or thereabouts. We made one stew that was in the oven for over 24 hours (although not actually being cooked overnight), and it was sensational. Veggies were provided by the local organic farm, and there's free-range eggs available locally as well. When we needed anything, doop set off on his bike to the Co-op in the village, 4 km away. Apparently cycling in this part of the world is a little bracing (read: windy).
I came back feeling incredibly relaxed and peaceful, and determined to spend more of my time not plugged into the internet. Indeed, I wrote this on my first no-wireless-at-home day on Wednesday (and have only just got around to posting it). Just switching off from everything was fantastic, and I felt so much better for slowing down. I may not be able to spend all day every day kicking back on the sofa while I'm back in London, but I do want to recreate some of that peace here. I'll update with how it's going after a month.
Saturday, 20 March 2010
Spring is sprung
And therefore it is time to start on the planting.
In the last couple of weeks on the allotment, I've planted chard, parsnips, peas, carrots, and beetroot. The overwintered peas and beans from the balcony have gone out to join the beans that overwintered in the allotment (the peas appear to have expired somewhere along the way). I'm not sure how well the beans are actually doing, but we'll see. What I am sure of is that I should have planted many more of them to get anything like a crop. Ah well; a thing to remember for next year.
On the balcony, things are also getting moving. I've started my tomato, pepper, and chilli seedlings on the windowsill, and planted some carrots in a pot. The tomatoes appear a little reluctant to germinate; but I have 5 seedlings up and about now. (The chillis are known for taking ages to germinate and need it to be really warm.) Some of the overwintered peas have gone into balcony pots rather than to the allotment, and the cold-frames have been partway taken apart (they will be fully taken apart when there's more storage room).
The sage and mint cuttings I made over the winter have both taken, and the mint is now growing furiously; the thyme (which died back a little over the winter) is reinvigorating itself; and the chives are back up again (always one of my favourite parts of spring).
Very excitingly, I had a look at the worms in the wormery yesterday and they have produced actual compost! They also looked a little sorry for themselves; I have added a little water (the balcony got quite warm in the recent sunshine, and I'll need to bear that in mind over the summer) and some more food, so hopefully they'll perk up.
In the last couple of weeks on the allotment, I've planted chard, parsnips, peas, carrots, and beetroot. The overwintered peas and beans from the balcony have gone out to join the beans that overwintered in the allotment (the peas appear to have expired somewhere along the way). I'm not sure how well the beans are actually doing, but we'll see. What I am sure of is that I should have planted many more of them to get anything like a crop. Ah well; a thing to remember for next year.
On the balcony, things are also getting moving. I've started my tomato, pepper, and chilli seedlings on the windowsill, and planted some carrots in a pot. The tomatoes appear a little reluctant to germinate; but I have 5 seedlings up and about now. (The chillis are known for taking ages to germinate and need it to be really warm.) Some of the overwintered peas have gone into balcony pots rather than to the allotment, and the cold-frames have been partway taken apart (they will be fully taken apart when there's more storage room).
The sage and mint cuttings I made over the winter have both taken, and the mint is now growing furiously; the thyme (which died back a little over the winter) is reinvigorating itself; and the chives are back up again (always one of my favourite parts of spring).
Very excitingly, I had a look at the worms in the wormery yesterday and they have produced actual compost! They also looked a little sorry for themselves; I have added a little water (the balcony got quite warm in the recent sunshine, and I'll need to bear that in mind over the summer) and some more food, so hopefully they'll perk up.
Friday, 1 January 2010
Contact details
Email: juliet.kemp@gmail.com
Phone: +44 (0)7932 696236
Snail-mail address: 36 Marden Square, London, SE16 2HZ, UK.
Phone: +44 (0)7932 696236
Snail-mail address: 36 Marden Square, London, SE16 2HZ, UK.
Friday, 18 December 2009
Repair, reuse...
This morning I spent five minutes attacking a frying-pan with a hammer; this afternoon I spent two hours taking a bike wheel apart and putting it back together again. Repair and reuse.
The frying-pan had an increasingly large rise in the middle -- bad enough by now that you were guaranteed a patch of burnt-on stuff where the oil wouldn't sit. Not sure if the hammer solution will actually work, as I didn't get it all that flat, but it was getting to be unusable, so I can't have gone that far wrong. So that was the repair.
The bike wheel is suffering from a broken hub. I did take the hub apart to see if I could fix that, but the cup (definitely) and the bearing races (probably) are dented, so it's a bit past that stage. I did keep the bearings, though, in case they come in handy. What I figured I could do was to reuse the spokes, nipples (the bits that attach the spokes to the rim), and rim. So far, so good: took everything apart successfully, and have got the basic tensioning done. Next job is to true it properly and put the sprocket back on -- probably about another hour's work. And that was the reuse.
There's something very satisfying about fixing a broken thing, or about not wasting reusable parts. I doubt I've saved any money (when I account for my time) with the bike wheel, but the satisfaction is more than worth it even without the environmental advantages. And I trust my wheel-building over a factory wheel every time.
Plus I got to hit something with a hammer, which is always a pleasing experience.
The frying-pan had an increasingly large rise in the middle -- bad enough by now that you were guaranteed a patch of burnt-on stuff where the oil wouldn't sit. Not sure if the hammer solution will actually work, as I didn't get it all that flat, but it was getting to be unusable, so I can't have gone that far wrong. So that was the repair.
The bike wheel is suffering from a broken hub. I did take the hub apart to see if I could fix that, but the cup (definitely) and the bearing races (probably) are dented, so it's a bit past that stage. I did keep the bearings, though, in case they come in handy. What I figured I could do was to reuse the spokes, nipples (the bits that attach the spokes to the rim), and rim. So far, so good: took everything apart successfully, and have got the basic tensioning done. Next job is to true it properly and put the sprocket back on -- probably about another hour's work. And that was the reuse.
There's something very satisfying about fixing a broken thing, or about not wasting reusable parts. I doubt I've saved any money (when I account for my time) with the bike wheel, but the satisfaction is more than worth it even without the environmental advantages. And I trust my wheel-building over a factory wheel every time.
Plus I got to hit something with a hammer, which is always a pleasing experience.
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
Sustainability and self-judgement
The last week & a half, I have spent a certain amount of time over at Trafalgar Square, where a bunch of awesome people have been camping out for the duration of the Copenhagen talks. I've been going to and from, and doing some useful things, but I haven't been camping out, for a couple of reasons*.
What I've noticed is the amount of guilt I have about that decision and the way I want to justify or explain it to other people. I worry that the people camping out there -- many of whom I have a lot of respect for -- will be thinking less of me for that choice. (I should note that no one has in fact indicated, in word or deed, anything of the sort.)
But in truth, it's more about my own attitude. I don't entirely trust my own decision; part of me thinks that if I were really dedicated, or if I were stronger, or if... then I would be down there in my tent.
Which is nonsense. I am, in fact, competent to make decisions about my own abilities and what I can sustainably do. More to the point, it is OK for what I can sustainably do, and what other people can sustainably do, to be different. And just as I wouldn't (and don't) judge other people on what they feel able to do, other people are not in fact going to judge me (and if they did, then that would be a sign that perhaps they're not people I respect after all). In particular, my experience of Climate Camp is that there genuinely is an enormous amount of respect for everyone's individual comfort levels.
This ties in to two things I've been thinking about of late: my tendency to judge myself unduly harshly, and my ongoing concern about the judgements of others (rather than relying on my own beliefs). I think those things are perhaps more closely related than I believe them to be; my fears about the opinions of others reflecting my self-doubt.
I genuinely believe that sustainable communities need to recognise individual abilities and needs. And for that to work, it has to operate both internally and externally; after all, if you can't be fair and kind to yourself, then how can you let other people be fair and kind to you, or believe them when they are?
* Which I'm deliberately not specifying because as per above, I am trying to avoid the need to externally self-justify.
What I've noticed is the amount of guilt I have about that decision and the way I want to justify or explain it to other people. I worry that the people camping out there -- many of whom I have a lot of respect for -- will be thinking less of me for that choice. (I should note that no one has in fact indicated, in word or deed, anything of the sort.)
But in truth, it's more about my own attitude. I don't entirely trust my own decision; part of me thinks that if I were really dedicated, or if I were stronger, or if... then I would be down there in my tent.
Which is nonsense. I am, in fact, competent to make decisions about my own abilities and what I can sustainably do. More to the point, it is OK for what I can sustainably do, and what other people can sustainably do, to be different. And just as I wouldn't (and don't) judge other people on what they feel able to do, other people are not in fact going to judge me (and if they did, then that would be a sign that perhaps they're not people I respect after all). In particular, my experience of Climate Camp is that there genuinely is an enormous amount of respect for everyone's individual comfort levels.
This ties in to two things I've been thinking about of late: my tendency to judge myself unduly harshly, and my ongoing concern about the judgements of others (rather than relying on my own beliefs). I think those things are perhaps more closely related than I believe them to be; my fears about the opinions of others reflecting my self-doubt.
I genuinely believe that sustainable communities need to recognise individual abilities and needs. And for that to work, it has to operate both internally and externally; after all, if you can't be fair and kind to yourself, then how can you let other people be fair and kind to you, or believe them when they are?
* Which I'm deliberately not specifying because as per above, I am trying to avoid the need to externally self-justify.
Friday, 11 December 2009
Letting go
Earlier this year, I spent five very awesome months living in Sydney, in a small flat with very few belongings. (You buy less when you know that everything you acquire has to either be got rid of or expensively shipped in a few months.) Returning to the UK in July, I was taken aback by how much stuff I have.
The sense of having so many things around me is overpowering, even stifling. I find myself thinking longingly of my nice, empty flat in Sydney. The washing-up has less chance to build up when you only have two plates. It never takes more than ten minutes to tidy everything away. It's easy to choose clothes (though I admit I was kind of bored by my half-a-dozen tops and three skirts by the time I left). There's just more space.
And yet I still find it hard to let things go. To get rid of a bookcase's worth of books took multiple passes. The book I removed from the shelves on the fourth pass was no more nor less valuable to me then than it was on the first pass, but it took me that long to wear down my attachment to the concreteness of it; to allow myself to let go.
This week, I've let go of a stack of Audax brevet cards (to the recycling), a dozen-odd festival programmes (posted to the John Johnson Collection), and some more clothes.
I also went through my craft drawers, and found a stack of "requires mending or altering" projects. One in particular, a top I knitted, made my heart sink. Currently it's a little too wide, the seams are lumpy, it's not the right length; and I can't even begin to work out how I'd alter it so it's enjoyable to wear.
For the last year -- more? -- I've been looking at it, and thinking those same thoughts, and then putting it back in the drawer, to lurk there and generate guilt. Because I knitted it, and so surely it's worth doing something with.
This time, I took a deep breath, asked myself honestly whether I was ever really going to fix it, or if I even really wanted to (do I need another top?), and acknowledged that the answer was no. So I took another deep breath and started to rip it out (I do still like the yarn!).
It feels so freeing. I enjoyed making that top; I learnt some things from doing it; but I don't actually wear it. So I'm letting it go, and the decision leaves me feeling lighter. That's worth remembering.
The sense of having so many things around me is overpowering, even stifling. I find myself thinking longingly of my nice, empty flat in Sydney. The washing-up has less chance to build up when you only have two plates. It never takes more than ten minutes to tidy everything away. It's easy to choose clothes (though I admit I was kind of bored by my half-a-dozen tops and three skirts by the time I left). There's just more space.
And yet I still find it hard to let things go. To get rid of a bookcase's worth of books took multiple passes. The book I removed from the shelves on the fourth pass was no more nor less valuable to me then than it was on the first pass, but it took me that long to wear down my attachment to the concreteness of it; to allow myself to let go.
This week, I've let go of a stack of Audax brevet cards (to the recycling), a dozen-odd festival programmes (posted to the John Johnson Collection), and some more clothes.
I also went through my craft drawers, and found a stack of "requires mending or altering" projects. One in particular, a top I knitted, made my heart sink. Currently it's a little too wide, the seams are lumpy, it's not the right length; and I can't even begin to work out how I'd alter it so it's enjoyable to wear.
For the last year -- more? -- I've been looking at it, and thinking those same thoughts, and then putting it back in the drawer, to lurk there and generate guilt. Because I knitted it, and so surely it's worth doing something with.
This time, I took a deep breath, asked myself honestly whether I was ever really going to fix it, or if I even really wanted to (do I need another top?), and acknowledged that the answer was no. So I took another deep breath and started to rip it out (I do still like the yarn!).
It feels so freeing. I enjoyed making that top; I learnt some things from doing it; but I don't actually wear it. So I'm letting it go, and the decision leaves me feeling lighter. That's worth remembering.
Tuesday, 8 December 2009
COP15: more links
If you're in London, come down to Trafalgar Square to visit the Climate Camp COP OUT CAMP OUT activists. We'll be there until the end of the COP15 talks! I was down there yesterday and there's tea and biscuits. Extra sleeping bags, food, things to sit on, & so on would be appreciated by the campers. In particular, if anyone has a source of some kind of marquee or market stall that would stand up on its own (can't use pegs on Trafalgar Square...) that would be really, really useful as the kitchen marquee was only hired for the weekend & has gone away now.
COP OUT CAMP OUT protestors blockade the European Climate Exchange yesterday.
Climate Refugee Santas sing climate carols to those catching the last flight to Copenhagen before the talks start. Their photographer was arrested.
Download the Climate Justice Chronicle, being published every other day during the Copenhagen talks.
The article's not in English, but I think the picture says it all. 'Reception centre' for climate activists arrested over the next couple of weeks.
COP OUT CAMP OUT protestors blockade the European Climate Exchange yesterday.
Climate Refugee Santas sing climate carols to those catching the last flight to Copenhagen before the talks start. Their photographer was arrested.
Download the Climate Justice Chronicle, being published every other day during the Copenhagen talks.
The article's not in English, but I think the picture says it all. 'Reception centre' for climate activists arrested over the next couple of weeks.
Thursday, 3 December 2009
More carbon trading, and dodgy US subpoena
The Story of Cap & Trade. A short (just shy of 10 min), well-written and well-produced video explaining clearly why cap & trade isn't a solution to the carbon crisis. From the "Story of Stuff" people.
On a slightly different note, EFF discuss the subpoena issued by the US government to indymedia.us, which included an illegally-broad information-fishing expedition and a bogus gag order. Good work by Indymedia & the EFF in standing up to this.
And finally, another reminder to come along to COP OUT CAMP OUT this weekend, where you will very probably be able to see The Story of Cap & Trade on a bicycle-powered projector.
On a slightly different note, EFF discuss the subpoena issued by the US government to indymedia.us, which included an illegally-broad information-fishing expedition and a bogus gag order. Good work by Indymedia & the EFF in standing up to this.
And finally, another reminder to come along to COP OUT CAMP OUT this weekend, where you will very probably be able to see The Story of Cap & Trade on a bicycle-powered projector.
Tuesday, 1 December 2009
Land grabs in the developing world
An interesting (and infuriating) post on The Angry Black Woman about land grabs. Executive summary: 'investors', initially officials from richer countries apparently concerned about food security, latterly all sorts of other people just interested in the financial value, have been buying up land in the developing world, especially in Africa.
There's lots of useful resources and links from that post, but it doesn't really take a genius to recognise that this is unlikely to end well for the people living in those countries. It's the same as the biofuels issue: the rich buy up the land at the expense of those who live off it.
Even if you think that local people where the land is being bought are actually getting the money (which is, frankly, pretty monumentally unlikely), the economics of the situation (on an assumption of food scarcity, which is after all why the 'investment' is considered valuable) means that it's a bad deal. The money can't make up for the loss of the food -- because the cost of the food is going to be greater than the cost of the land (otherwise no money is made). Not only that, but the food is going to go first to richer countries who can afford to pay more.
Yet another way in which climate change and capitalism are screwing the poor of the world over first. Unfortunately it looks like it's going to be business as usual in Copenhagen; continuing to put financial interests over global wellbeing. If you're in the UK, the Wave march is this Saturday; after that there's the more radically-inclined Climate Camp COP OUT CAMP OUT event. Come along to push the idea that Copenhagen needs to produce radical results.
There's lots of useful resources and links from that post, but it doesn't really take a genius to recognise that this is unlikely to end well for the people living in those countries. It's the same as the biofuels issue: the rich buy up the land at the expense of those who live off it.
Even if you think that local people where the land is being bought are actually getting the money (which is, frankly, pretty monumentally unlikely), the economics of the situation (on an assumption of food scarcity, which is after all why the 'investment' is considered valuable) means that it's a bad deal. The money can't make up for the loss of the food -- because the cost of the food is going to be greater than the cost of the land (otherwise no money is made). Not only that, but the food is going to go first to richer countries who can afford to pay more.
Yet another way in which climate change and capitalism are screwing the poor of the world over first. Unfortunately it looks like it's going to be business as usual in Copenhagen; continuing to put financial interests over global wellbeing. If you're in the UK, the Wave march is this Saturday; after that there's the more radically-inclined Climate Camp COP OUT CAMP OUT event. Come along to push the idea that Copenhagen needs to produce radical results.
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