Infusiasm, Part II

The two infusions, much reduced.

In Infusiasm: Part I I merrily picked bucketsful of violets and honeysuckle, then poured boiling water over and let everything sit overnight. Today I finished the experiment.

The syrups turned out to be subtle but surprisingly flavorful. I wasn't sure what to expect from the violets, since one friend warned that commercial violet syrup, like Monin, tastes (in her esteemed opinion) like old lady perfume. I'm relieved to report this is not the case with the homemade version. It's floral and a little fruity without tasting like you ate a handful of potpourri.

The honeysuckle tastes like a garden with bees in it. It's so lovely I had to immediately mix a couple of drinks with each. First I tasted them both with sparkling water on ice (so refreshing!), then I got serious. Here's what I came up with:

A splash of lemon juice turned the violet
syrup from dingy purplish-gray to true violet.

Violet syrup with sparkling water, Cointreau, and a squeeze of lemon. So delicate and ladylike! Not at all perfumey like violet candy.

Honeysuckle syrup with Courvoisier and mint has a lot of personality. You get the floral honey and mint flavors with an edge of cognac that gives the drink some structure.

You can't go wrong mixing either of these with prosecco, too.

You may be wondering which one of these delightful cocktails accompanied me into my office to write this blog post. Gentle reader, it was the violet. Who can resist such a beautiful color?

I'm left with a few questions: Are the violets I used less potent than most? Does it matter that I collected the honeysuckle blossoms on a rainy day? I wonder if the syrups will be stronger if I pick them under precisely the right conditions. I'm happy with the results, but I plan to keep experimenting. Here's my recipe.

Flower Syrup

(Folks, make sure your flowers are safely edible before you start.)

2 cups packed blossoms

3 cups boiling water

1 cup sugar 

1 tablespoon lemon juice

Pick your flowers, using only good quality fresh flowers. Cover with boiling water and let steep anywhere from 12 to 24 hours. Strain through a sieve, then simmer gently until the infusion is reduced to 1 cup. Make a 1:1 sugar syrup by adding the sugar and the lemon juice. Pour into a glass jar and use right away or store in the fridge. These are safe for canning; simply put in a hot water bath for 15 minutes and store in a cool, dry place for up to a year.

Makes 1 1/2 cups.

Peter Rabbit can't choose a favorite!

Infusiasm

Aren't you lucky? You get to watch me perform my latest kitchen experiment in real time. Not much is ready to harvest in our garden yet besides rhubarb and mint, so I'm taking my impatience far afield and going foraging. We were treated to the deluxe version of foraging a couple of weeks ago at a little ramp festival in the woods with the best local ingredients prepared by some chefs who really knew what to do with them. My humble contribution was some Golden Treasure syrup I had made from late-summer yellow tomatoes and herbs from our garden--rosemary, some basil when it starts to flower and take on an anise flavor, and the season's first apples. My friend Ben made a mouth-watering sweet-tart sauce for barbequed local pork by pureeing some of my rhubarb together with this syrup, and it was completely amazing.

This got me thinking about infused syrups, taking inventory of what's in season now. Spring has busted out so quickly that I'm afraid if I blink I'll miss something unique and then be forced to wait another year to cook up some obscure recipe. Last year I wanted to try violet jelly but was preoccupied by the garden. I've always loved the fragrance and taste of honeysuckle, too; pulling the sweet stamens out and eating them was a favorite pastime when I was a kid.

The violets are all over our lawn, so it was easy to collect them. They're not very fragrant, though, so how can they make a perfumed syrup? Guess I'll find out soon enough. This week I've been seeing honeysuckle bushes in bloom wherever I go, tempted to pull over when I'm driving and sniff them to my heart's content. Today I picked a huge jarful of blossoms that turned out to be only 1.5 ounces, half of what I needed for the recipe I'm using. No matter, I'm forging ahead!

Step 1: Make a kind of flower tea by pouring boiling water over the flowers and letting them steep overnight.

I promise to post the results whether this succeeds or fails.

Getting There

I can't believe how many strawberries, blueberries, elderberries, and raspberries we've planted (mostly thanks to Mark) in the past two weeks. How much dirt we've moved. How many seeds we've planted. The greens and broccoli are ready for transplanting. Peas and trellises are up, garlic and shallots are happy. Mark attended a grafting workshop, I took an intensive 16-hour apiculture course. We're getting there.

P.S. Did I mention my farmers' market opens tomorrow? So yeah, we've been busy.

Harbingers

Spring is coming. It really is.

Ice crystals under the workable topsoil

Rhubarb!

Perennial garlic chives

Fresh Start

Mark finished the second gate and laid these gorgeous pavers in the entrances on either end of the garden. It feels like we're starting with a clean, organized canvas this year. Let's see how long it stays that way!

Microfarming and the New Markate Estates

Microfarming. You won’t find the term in Webster’s Dictionary just yet. But that’s exactly what we’ve been doing without knowing what to call it. It’s not like we coined the term, either. The blogosphere is awash in aspirational folks like ourselves, some coaxing out a little slice of agricultural heaven on much smaller parcels of land than our two acres. We’ve struggled for years to define what we do with our own little scrap of Earth for years; we’re more than gardeners, not quite farmers. Definitely permaculturists, but that term doesn’t resonate with a lot of people. So--”microfarmers” it is!

A full-time farmer friend of ours was the one to call our fledgling homestead a “microfarm.” (My heart fluttered a little that he thought us worthy of any name with “farmer” in it.) This was a watershed moment for us. Being human (for all intents and purposes) we adore classification. We’ve got to slap a label on something before we can wrap our brains around it. We knew we were onto something big with the long-term “more than just veggies” approach to gardening. Besides, the term “garden” conjures up images of Better Homes and Gardens, or of your Great-Aunt Rosie outside in a floppy hat, kneeling before her rosebushes on a little mat with a pair of shears in her neatly gloved hand. Our garden isn’t quite like that; it extends beyond the boundaries of the eight-foot-tall deer-proof fence, encompassing our entire yard, our sensibilities about what to eat, the most ethical place to buy it, and the ever-expanding boundaries of self-sustainability. We may move compost, dig holes, pinch grubs, and curse flea beetles, but I’ve always cringed at the notion that our little project is something as delicate and Victorian as a “garden.” On the other hand, it sure would be nice if our effort were as attractive as one of those.

Enter the microfarm, which is simply a tiny version of its much bigger predecessor. Microfarms exist in all settings, rural or urban, in zones 3-10 and beyond. A microfarm emulates the techniques of larger operations on a scale that’s realistic for a few people to oversee. In our case, our mentors include several local biodynamic/permaculture-based CSAs. We watch them closely, impressed by their accomplishments, and strive to replicate them on a smaller scale in our own front and back yards. This year, we attended the NOFA NJ Winter Conference in Princeton as proud practitioners, primed to absorb as much practical knowledge as the largest professional farmers in attendance. We no longer make excuses for the size of our endeavor, nor do we apologize to friends and family about our eccentric forays into all manner of organic agriculture. While our process hasn’t changed (although the scope of our work has), the microfarmer label has inspired a small but significant shift in the way we define ourselves and move forward.

Seedy Neighborhood

Hard to believe our seeds are already here! We even planted the first leeks under lights last week. This mild winter is tricking us into thinking that spring is near. I'm trying really hard to keep in mind that there's a good six weeks left before we can really expect warm weather. Winter is bleak, but it's easier to deal with if I brace myself. So instead, let's talk about SEEDS! If anyone reading this is as excited by this list as I am--call me!

We're proud to say that we've saved a good third of the seeds on this list from plants we grew last year. The rest we ordered from Seed Savers Exchange, Fedco, Southern Exposure, and Seeds from Italy. The last is a new place that gets rave reviews from the well-respected Garden Rant. Seeds from Italy sells heirloom seeds from--you guessed it--Italy, and some varieties are hundreds of years old. We're looking forward to seeing the good germination results they're known for. If you're curious about any of the varieties on here, give us a holler and we'll be happy to opine on why we love it.

LETTUCE
Tom Thumb (saved) (butterhead)
Rouge de Vif (saved)
Cimarron (saved)

BROCCOLI
Fedco mix (saved) (interplanting with spinach)

SPINACH
Bordeaux (saved)

CHARD
Leaf Beet

SHELLING PEAS
Green Arrow

SNAP PEAS
Sugar Snap (saved)

FAVA BEANS
Sweet Lorane

HARICOTS VERTS
Masai (bush)

DRY BEANS
Hidatsa Shield Figure

SUMMER SQUASH
Romanesca

WINTER SQUASH
Kikuza

POTATOES (experimenting with hugelkultur this year)
Yellow Finn
Purple Viking

MELONS
Boule D’Or (honeydew style)
Petit Gris de Rennes (cantaloupe style)

TOMATOES
Japanese Trifele Black
Brandywine
San Marzano (saved)
Blondkopfchen (yellow cherry)
Principe Borghese (for drying)

GROUND CHERRIES (saved)

BEETS
3-root Grex

CARROTS
Scarlet Nantes

CUCUMBERS
Suyo Long

PEPPERS
Aji dulce (saved)
Burapa (saved)
Marconi Rosso
Devil’s Kiss
Santa Fe Grande
Gigante Ancho

ONIONS
Walla Walla
Yellow of Parma

SCALLIONS (saved)

LEEKS
Bleu de Solaise

OKRA (saved)

SUNFLOWERS
Titan (edible seeds)

HERBS & FLOWERS
Marigolds
Calendula
Genovese basil (saved)
Holy Basil (saved)
Queenette (saved)
Sweet peas
Empress of India nasturtiums

PERENNIALS/ALREADY PLANTED
Garlic
Shallots
Asparagus
Rhubarb
Blueberries

NEW PERENNIALS
Rubel blueberries
Earliglow strawberries
Jewel strawberries
York elderberry
Adams elderberry
Caroline golden raspberries
Gooseberries
Blue Ray blueberries