Rohan Anderson's Blog, page 15

I get around

I’ll be out and about over the next few months visiting different places and doing talks and cooking demos. If you’d like to come along and say hi, just look for the bloke with the beard and the cap cooking something like the above….Rabbit Log with blue cheese and Jamon……YUM!

And for my USA friends I’m starting to plan a trip in February with most events still to be confirmed. For any further US events drop us a line HERE

 

Friday 16th November (2pm-2:30pm)

TASTE OF MELBOURNE (Cooking Demonstration at the Sustainable Living feature) (Details here)

 

Saturday 17th November (3:15pm-3:45pm)

TASTE OF MELBOURNE (Cooking Demonstration at the Sustainable Living feature) (Details here)

 

Wednesday 21st November

Meet The Makers SHELLY PANTON STUDIO (Details here)

 

Saturday 15th December (1pm tbc)

MONA Tasmania at the opening of the new season MoMa

 

February

Somerville Library – Boston (Date tbc)

NYC (Date/event tbc)

Delaware (Date/event tbc)

Texas (Date/event tbc)

Maine (Date/event tbc)

Oregon (Date/event tbc)

Vermont (Date/event tbc)

Michigan (Date/event tbc)

Alabama (Date/event tbc)

Philadelphia (Date/event tbc)

Vancouver (Date/event tbc)

preparing for winter…in spring

We rely on the age old renewable forest timber for our winter heating. It keeps us warm at night, it drys our wet clothes and it helps with the proving of bread in the depths of a cold winter.

We don’t have access to piped natural gas, we have delivered bottles of gas but it’s too expensive for us to use for heating so we rely solely on forest timber. Unlike natural gas, or electrical heating, timber is actually renewable. If a forest is managed properly and allowed to regenerate with new trees then the cycle just continues as it has done for thousands of years. The problem is that there are just too many of us in the Western world to make this a viable source of heating for everyone. Thankfully there are some great alternatives, as is the case with most things. I once read about thermal heating in apartments in eastern Europe where waste matter was used to generate heat. In China there was methane collection units at pig farms that heated houses for free! There is always a better option out there.

For us, as renters, we have to use firewood. And it’s now the right time of the year to pack up the kids, head bush to the allocated coup and cut the felled tiber. It’s hard work, thats for sure. A cuppa break is well deserved. Even by those not really working very hard.

For us, it’s renewable forest timber. And one day, when I build our cabin house, the walls will be lined with insulation as will the roof. The house will be heated with a fireplace, which will also heat hot water service and thermal pipes will run through the house heating all the rooms making the most of the timber burnt.

It’s hard work, this log cutting, but it’s making the best use of my body whilst it’s still working and I’m fit enough to work. After working a day on the saw I’m usually in bed early. I sleep well, I don’t wake at 3am like I used to. I’m convinced that’s what our bodies are designed for. Doing activities that give us a direct benefit. They (our bodies) seem to react well to physical activity rather than sitting at a desk under dim florescent lighting for 8 hours a day starring at a computer screen. That seems rather unnatural to me and I refuse to go back to it. Ever.

Life is death is life

A meat pie. Looks pretty delicious doesn’t it? Trust me it was. But there’s a background story. There is always a background story. Most times we never get to hear it, but read on to hear this pie’s background story.

 

We got a message from a friend asking if we’d be interested in taking a rooster off their hands. It’s been so long since I’ve cooked with chicken, in my mind I was immediately setting a menu of gastronomic possibilities. I was set right by Kate who kindly reminded me that we had a clucky hen (which the kids affectionally  named ‘Peacock’). Why don’t we keep the cock and possibly get some eggs fertilised? It fits in with a closed system approach that we’re striving for. It could possibly  mean that we’d no longer have to buy new chooks, they’d just make their own. It might just work, we’ll leave it up to nature and I’ll report on it in the future.

When I arrived to pick up the rooster (which I’ve now named ‘Cogburn’ – any fan of The Duke will understand the reference) I noticed two pair of pigeon flying in the large hen house. I had to enquire about them, just on the off chance they were up for grabs, and it’s a good thing I did. More unwanted animals, and unlike Cogburn, these guys where destined for the pot! The reality is that I had nowhere to keep the animals other than in a pie.

In the old days pigeon was a common meat, as it was easy to keep them in the backyard and cheap to keep. It’s funny how us humans can happily eat certain foods when times are tough but not eat them when times/finances are good. Pigeons sit alongside rabbits as ‘poor man’s’ meat. In my mind it’s still all just meat, and with the added bonus of this species being considered a feral pest. We do have native pigeon in Australia, these four birds are the introduced species.

The kids where all excited of the concept of pigeon pie, I think more than anything it’s the name of the pie that was exciting. In our house the rules are, that if you want to eat it you have to know how it’s made. The whole process.

So after breakfast we all ventured out to the front yard to say hello and goodbye to the birds. The girls loved the soft feathers and the sounds they made, but when it came time to kill them they knew what needed to happen. I was rather proud of them, they saw my dispatch, a second and it was done, a quick twist of the neck, the delicate neck broken cleanly in my hands, the bird shakes in its death rattle, then it’s lifeless. Its now transformed from animal to food.

That’s what happens to every bird you eat, it’s the shitty inevitability, the downside is that most of us don’t witness the process and thus become disgusted when we’re confronted with the reality. But it happens.

Take away and supermarket chicken meat isn’t made from birds that have died of old age. The reality is that they live for 10 weeks in pretty shitty conditions then thousands of them are transported by truck (by pretty dodgy methods in most cases) then they’re all killed and processed and destined for the deep fryer of society’s treasured takeaway venues, where the reality of the carnivore process is hidden from the public.

After the birds were all dispatched (killed quickly) we set about the task of plucking, and the kids all helped, admittedly some more so than others.

Maya, Kate’s eldest, came out with a ripper of a line that I have to share. She said, “I bet no one would be able to tell what kind of bird this is now that the feathers have been plucked”. Such a childish comment really but me being me, I looked a little deeper into it and it reminded me that as adults we tend to be prejudiced against different types of foods, especially the animals we eat.

But look at the meat, cooked and processed ready for pie filling. What do we think of it now? I ask myself these questions, because I was once prejudiced myself. Ten years ago I would not have considered eating a feral bird. Now I think differently.

Add the basics of a good ragu, a low N’ slow cook for 3 hours and you end up with a pretty amazing meat.

It’s all got to do with how you were brought up and how open minded you are about life. When I was a kid I never ate pigeon, I never considered anything other than the Aussie basics of chicken, beef, lamb and pork. As an adult, they’re all the meats I eat the least of now. I’m more of an opportunistic eater now. Cue pigeons.

So we get sustenance from killing the pigeons and cooking and eating them, and the rooster will give us new life when he mounts the lady hens and make a’ de babies. It’s a pretty obvious system. I’m glad my kids understand it. They sure understood the flavour side of things.

seasonal treats. Artichokes

A few years ago I planted my artichokes in the front yard of the cottage back in town. Even though I no longer live there I see it every few days when I pick up and drop off the girls. It’s just starting to come into season, but it’s not quite ready yet, the heads haven’t even developed into anything more than an idea. Thankfully I have some other options. A few text messages, an offer of rabbit and a deal is struck.

I pick up the box left of artichokes on the veranda from Jane’s place. A friend who’s right into permaculture. Jane’s a mega active community figure that works tirelessly promoting the backyard food bowl approach in her town of Ballarat. Please God may their ears be open!

We’ve had a few meals from them, a few times I fried them in butter and garlic on the griddle, they worked surprisingly well, but my favourite tried and tested approach to cooking these edible thistle is to bake them with a sprinkle of peccorino, a squeeze of lemon, a dab of butter and glug of olive oil. Yes they’re fiddly to eat, picking one tender leaf at a time, until you get to the heart….but I reckon its work the effort. I really like getting my hands into a meal, and besides that, the baked artichoke is one of the best tastes of spring.

a day in the life

Thanks to Aaron at Commoner Films who put this little diddy together.

It’s a quick little vid that shows some of my daily duties. It’s able to be embedded, the code is available on the vimeo site.

Whole Larder Love from Whole Larder Love on Vimeo.

jamon, I’ll see you next year

A month ago I set two legs of pork on salt, to start the curing process to make jamon (Prosciutto if you’re Italian). I’ve been doing this annual cure for the last 3 years now and it’ll continue to be in my food calendar forever I guess. I’ve now built a new jamon housing unit to fit two legs. The best part is that I can reuse the cage every year. Jamon comes out, jamon goes in.

Before I laid the two new legs of pork goodness in the large tubs of salt back over a month ago, I took down the previous years jamon, a moment of pure joy. The smell, the anticipation. It’s often a little overwhelming and rather scary too, as I always wonder of the possibility that I did something wrong in the process of curing it….what if it’s a total fail? But again this year the leg worked, I’ve been blessed. My jamon tastes not unlike the beautiful imported Jamon from Spain…..well not exactly like it but it’s pretty damn good.

I love food traditions. I’ve been developing them for the family for a few years now. And from my perspective, I reckon I work hard for my food. It’s the old way, not too far different from a bloke living in rural Spain, Portugal, Italy etc. I tend a useful garden, I hunt, forage, fish and I barter. That’s all fairly common place in many communities from the old world. Well I say that, from what I’ve seen while travelling overseas, and from a million doco’s I’ve watched. So in reality I’m no expert, and I never met my Spanish grandfather but surely he would have been a fan of good Spanish food traditions.

In Australia (and I assume over in America) there isn’t that same cultural importance regarding food that exists over the pond. There isn’t centuries upon centuries of eating, preparing and cooking the same type of foods and relishing them primarily for their simplicity, frugality and place in tradition. Food doesn’t hold such reverence as it does, say like in Spain. In Australia, crikey! we don’t even have a national dish (and no a four N’ twenty pie doesn’t cut it).

Sure there are ethnic groups that hang onto food traditions because it’s very much an identity. And I’ve learnt much from the ‘new Australians’ and I’m very thankful of their pride in their food culture and for what it’s taught me.

Including the annual jamon hang, we celebrate the first ripe tomato bruschetta, passata day, summer preserving days, wild berry picking and the first successful mushroom hunt in autumn. Encouraging a food culture has been a mission for me in our house. Sometimes I feel like I’m imposing my beliefs on the rest of the family, but I can’t help it. I reckon if we all (the western suburban world) embraced some food traditions and techniques for food acquisition, we’d have a better world for our children.

I often wonder if the more the effort I put into producing the food I consume (the grow, gather, hunt, fish, barter, share), will it foster more appreciation for it? Will I cherish it any more? It often seems like the case, because when I eat my food I’m often making pretty funny noises, the type you shouldn’t be making on your own. But why cherish food in the first place? Well when it’s not there and we have hungry bellies when food becomes far too expensive because of rising fuel prices, maybe that question will answer itself.

There isn’t much respect for food when all thats required is for you to stretch your arm into the deep freeze at the supermarket and grab a packet of frozen chicken nuggets or when you select some sugar laced chemical enhanced breakfast cereal. There is zero effort in that approach, and surely that has to have some negative effect on our well being. The alternative to stretching your arm into the supermarket deep freeze for chicken nuggets, that is, working for your food (as a lifestyle choice) has given me immense satisfaction in my daily life. I never really felt that satisfaction or contentment prior to my ‘WLL’ life. And I’m not telling you how to suck eggs, I’m not suggesting this is for everyone, this is just an approach to life that seems to work well for me.

I now will wait 9-12 months to cut open these new jamon. It’s not instant food by any stretch. Sure I can walk into a deli and ask for some of the imported stuff to be sliced, and when I run out of my current leg I probably will, but the sense of achievement when I slice my own jamon and share it with people…..well it’s a phenomenally beautiful thing.

Thanks Kate for the photos of me. Literally couldn’t have done it with out you.