This is How we Roll

I have long been wanting to get to this subject - the processing of grain directly before eating. There is one grain so soft that you don't have to boil or grind it to make it edible, and that is the oat. And our past garden manager at Ecology Action has the perfect oat tool: a roller.

Industrially speaking, there are vast machines that do this task, putting millions of round cardboard tubes full of stale rolled oats in thousands of grocery stores, but this is different. It fits on your countertop and can be put away in a drawer or cabinet when you are done. It doesn't take a mechanic to service it, and doesn't require anything but your own arms to power it. And it allows you to have fresh rolled oats every day.
For a house-warming gift when we moved to the Golden Rule, Carol got us one, and we have been loving it. It works like this: You pour some oats in the hopper, turn the crank, and the oats get squished by two rollers, landing in the hopper below. When you finish, you brush the rollers off and put it away. Simple and effective.
Of course, it doesn't have to stop there. Margo, being the adventurous spirit she is, postulated that, by soaking other grains we might make them soft enough to roll. So we tried it with barley, triticale, rye, and probably wheat. As you see from the photos, we made it quite a process of soaking and laying out to dry a little, then rolling. All that we eventually found was necessary was putting them in a jar with water at the rate of ¾ cups grain to 1 tablespoon water. Letting them sit over night will soften them sufficiently to roll, then you go for it!
Where does one get this magic tool? The same place we get many other great magic tools: the Lehman's Catalog. It's where you can find the next topic of conversation, too.
Not long after arriving at Ecology Action my attention was drawn to the funny contraption in the corner of the cooking area. White enamel, a pedestal, a wheel and a crank. A hand-powered grain mill, specifically the Country Living Grain Mill, which makes all dreams come true. Soon after uncovering it we were grinding all of our grains fresh for bread, biscuits, tortillas, cookies, cakes, polenta, all that stuff. It takes elbow grease, it's true, but after a few months of using that every time you need flour, it gets much easier. For three loaves of bread I would grind 16 cups of flour once a week or so. We'd put it through twice for a finer grind, and that would mean 40 minutes of work, which I could do continuously by the time we left.
Upon moving down here we started using the available mill, which is called the "Magic Mill". For pictures and a great explanation you can check out this blog on food storage. The long and short is that it takes half the time and infinitely less physical work, but the stones don't get as close so you don't have as fine a flour (unless you sift it). Plus you don't have the satisfaction of doing it yourself. And no, I'm not being sarcastic.
I came up with a few methods of making the hand-mill easier, which ended up being a lot more work to figure out and much less helpful than just buckling down and doing it - one involved taking a hacksaw to a child's bicycle. I bet it would have been better if I knew how to weld...
One might ask, why bother when you can buy flour at the store? The short answer is that we like bothering. The longer answer, from which I will not spare you, involves simple seed anatomy. All seeds, grain included, come with a fibery husk, which surrounds and protects a big starchy endosperm and a small germ. The germ is the embryo of the plant, and the starch is the energy to help that plant develop. Which part is most devoid of vitamins and minerals, do you suppose? Now hold that thought.
The germ contains, among other things, oils, and oils that are stored correctly keep from going rancid. One of the incorrect ways of storing oils is mixing them up in flour and putting them on a shelf for weeks, months, or years. On the other hand, that is a great way to get rancid oil that makes your flour taste bad.
In the early half of the 1900's industry came up with the roller mill, which enabled them to pulverize the endosperm while sifting out the husk (bran) and the germ. Also known as the fiber and the minerals. The end result is a beautiful but nutritionally bereft white powder, which is then further bleached and then enriched. All the oils (in the germ) have been removed, and can be sold separately, like the bran, to consumers. Nice for the seller, and convenient for the buyer. But not good for the buyer, since the bread now lacks all that fiber (as well as its indigenous vitamins and minerals). Sound like colon trouble?
So we cut to the chase, growing some grain and buying the rest bulk in 25 or 50 pound bags from the local health food store. That gives us the nutrition in an easily stored form, and saves us a lot of money. It has been an educational and satisfying transition.

Corn Pollination

This is the time of year to really buckle-down into seed saving, which is a simple prospect for many of our garden plants. Lettuce, for example, you simply let go to form a stalk and a bunch of little flowers, which then form seeds with fuzz on them like dandelions. With tomatoes you take the mature fruit, gut it into a jar, and let it sit a few days to ferment the protective layer that coats each seed. Both of these vegetables have something glorious going for them from the gardener's perspective: they are self-pollinating. Each flower has both necessary parts, fertilizes itself, and keeps unwanted crossing to a minimum.
Not so, of course, with corn. I won't go into any depth on the biology of corn pollination, since I wrote about that in an earlier post. But I would love to share how I deal with the question that follows that understanding: How does a person get pure seed under those conditions? Especially if they live in Corn Country? Especially when, if their seed gets contaminated by genetically modified crops Monsanto comes and sues them like they've been doing to lots of small farmers.
My solution comes from Seed to Seed, by Suzanne Ashworth. It is one of the great, comprehensive seed saving books for anyone who wants to understand the ins and outs of the subject.
Because it is a time, energy, and focus-intensive process at first, I started last year saving from three Hopi Blue flour corn plants. This year we planted out the resulting successfully-saved seed, together with some of the same variety bought from a catalog. The reason for this is that, in the case of most plants, genetic diversity is important. Seed to Seed recommends, as an absolute minimum, that 100 corn plants should be saved from. You will end up with 50 ears, though, because half of those plants will be participating only by tassel.
Maybe I should explain the method now...
There are two vital elements in corn pollination: the tassel (which releases pollen), and silks (which accept pollen). One silk only accepts one pollen granule, which will become one kernel on an ear. So essentially we need to stand between the silks and ANY tassels.
The best way to do this is by bagging ears before the silks emerge. Choose the best ears right before the silks come out (the only tricky part) and clip the tip of the husk off to see the bundle of silks. They grow fast, like an inch a day, so by clipping them like this they will all be the same size in one or two days when you remove the bag to pollinate them.
The next step comes one or two days later: the collection and distribution of pollen. Get more bags, stick them over tassels and staple them close to the plant, so no pollen drops out. Do this early in the morning before they start shedding pollen. Before it gets hot that day (hot enough to destroy the pollen in the closed bag), say maybe 11am, you take the bag off, bending and shaking the tassel as you do, and then you have a little pollen. Collecting and mixing all the pollen in one bag, you have quite a bit of it.
At that point you make the rounds of your bagged ears. Take off the bag, pour some pollen on the now-emerged silks, and then put the bag back on to mark the ears you selected.
It is a simple as that. As mentioned above, the only tricky part is trying to identify which ears have almost emergent silks. I cut the tips off of many husks only to be disappointed. But, as with many other things, if you don't start and fail a lot, you'll never know what you are doing!
So to sum up the ideal situation: 1) snip tips and bag 50 ears, 2) one or two days later bag 50 tassels from plants whose ears you did not bag, 3) collect the pollen later that morning and pollinate the 50 aforementioned ears. Done! Sit back and watch them grow, and harvest them when they are mature and dry.
Corn and squash are really two of the most difficult plants to keep pure seed from, so if you are feeling adventurous some year, do your reading and jump into it! Once you have it down, you can probably make at least a little money selling the results to a seed company.

Corn Nuts

We, like industrial America, value corn highly. The difference is that we are not going to make high-fructose syrup, ethanol, or plastic out of it. We are going to eat it! And, of course, feed the stalks to our compost.

We grow three categories of corn here, for three different purposes: flour corn, sweet corn, and popcorn.

The flour corn doubles as a high-calorie multi-purpose food and high-biomass compost crop. According to How to Grow More Vegetables an intermediate yield for flour corn is 17 lb/100 sq ft for seed and 50 lb/100 sq ft for air-dry biomass. Which is a whole lot of seed and stalk. Last year we came close to the intermediate seed yield and exceeded the biomass yield in two beds.

And different varieties will perform at different levels.

But high yield isn't everything - we aim for aesthetics, too. The photo above shows, in order, Bloody Butcher, Hickory King, Seneca Red Stalker, and Hopi Blue. Talk about fun colors of cornbread! On the right is some Oaxaca Green from the Ecology Action site.

At the Golden Rule Garden, since we are producing food for a community (as well as learning, teaching, and researching) sweet corn also plays an important role. Who doesn't like sweet corn? This year we are growing two open-pollinated varieties! Those of you familiar with sweet corn or seed catalogs know the prevalence of hybridized sweet corn varieties, so I might as well take a moment to talk about them.
Many plants (corn, for instance) spread and accept pollen freely. This is a wonderful way for them to find new genes and increase their diversity, because the pollen doesn't always land on the same variety from which it originated. If this foreign variety accepts the pollen, then it is cross-pollinated. The seed resulting from this cross-pollination, a hybrid, will grow a very nice plant, mixing characteristics of the two parents. And, most often, this new hybrid plant will produce either sterile seed or seed that grows into plants with unpredictable characteristics. Not so helpful if you want to save seed from year to year.
Seed companies began selling hybrid corn in the first half of the 20th century, and it has sold well to this day for two reasons: first, because of a condition called "hybrid vigor" that predictably occurs when two inbred varieties cross. The first generation of this hybridization is taller, bigger, and higher-yielding than either of the parents. Following generations of this hybrid plant will be much smaller and, as mentioned above, have unpredictable characteristics. The second reason it sells well is that it is almost the only thing sold. Go ahead and search your seed catalogs for non-hybrid sweet corn. Burpee's website offers 34 varieties, 2 of them open-pollinated, the rest hybrid. Because corn crosses so easily, there are few farmers or gardeners who go to the trouble to save their own seed. So if they are going to buy seed anyway, why not buy seed for vigorous, high-yielding plants? An added bonus for seed companies is that the details of what varieties they are crossing are proprietary information, so even if you wanted to go to the trouble to hybridize plants you would have to do your own years of research.
Ok, so that's the deal on hybrids. Look forward in the next month to a post about hand-pollination of corn, which is the best way for a small garden in the midst of corn country to save their own pure seed.
Finally, we are growing one variety of popcorn: Vermont Red Kernel. Margo and I are regular popcorn eaters, so we want to invest in that knowledge now. The downside of both popcorn and sweet corn, in Grow Biointensive terms, is that they create much less biomass. Flour corn might produce 48 pounds of air-dry stalks per 100 sq. ft. for compost material, while a good sturdy sweet corn may only yield 24. Probably less. And popcorn will probably be less yet. I'll let you know when we get the yields this year.
On the right is Jerry, a past intern, with his [open-pollinated] flour corn, 14 feet tall.

Knee High by the 4th of July?

Maybe if you are that Chinese basketball player. Our garden is growing like all-get-out at this time of year, and the hot weather we got last week pushed some of our heat-loving crops to do great things. On the right is a photo of our Hopi Blue flour corn. Half of this 240 sq ft bed is planted with seed I saved from last year using hand pollination as recommended in Seed to Seed, a book published by Seed Savers Exchange (an organization advocating the use of open-pollinated seed, as opposed to the artificial processes of hybrid and genetic modification). In the next month or two it will get up to eight or nine feet and tassel, and I will fine-tune my hand-pollinating skills.

Amaranth is another of the main-season crops we tout so highly. Hailing from central America, amaranth was the staple food of the Aztecs and the backbone of their culture and worship. Recognizing this, the Spanish Conquistadores banned it and actively destroyed it wherever it was encountered. It has been theorized that, had that not happened, amaranth would be to our culture what corn is now (maybe aside from all the recently discovered derivatives). It produces a brilliant plume of flowers that Victorians might have called beautiful, others might call gaudy. The seed is tiny but plentiful, and can be boiled, ground, and, yes, popped. The young greens are also tasty.
Quinoa was first cultivated high in the Andes of South America, so you might wonder why we'd attempt it way down here. Happily, it can grow anywhere from 12,000 feet down to sea level, depending on the variety. Its claim to fame among health food fans is that it is a whole protein, containing all of the amino acids that humans need. Plus it cooks in about 20 minutes and take on flavors easily (so don't eat it alone expecting to be impressed). The seeds grow naturally coated with saponin (a soapy substance) that is so bitter that birds don't bother it. The good news is that when you buy it in the health food store it has already been washed free of the bitterness. The bad news is that the store won't make house calls to wash the quinoa you grow yourself. We're still working here on the most efficient way to process it.
Rye stands out in this post as an over-wintered crop instead of a main-season one. It is one of my favorites of all we have here, between its beauty, its height, and its usefulness. The tallest cereal crop we grow, its ready tendency to host microorganisms (like the poisonous fungus ergot) makes its grain the prime ingredient for sourdough starter (a yeast kept alive through a mixture of rye flour and water). And we thrive on sourdough bread in this house. Like all the other crops I mention in this post, one of rye's biggest chores within the garden is as a compost material. The mature stalks can be easily saved for months or years after threshing to provide mature material when you are ready to build a pile. Rye also has an incredible root system, which means good things for soil quality in the garden.
Finally, Jerusalem Artichoke, a.k.a Sunchoke. While it produces an incredibly tall stalk, the flowers are all pretty small. The edible part of the plant is the tuber, which has, depending on what you read and whom you ask, a nutty flavor, a starchy flavor, or a flavor like to that of an artichoke. Which leads to the name. There is much speculation as to the origin of the name "Jerusalem", for instance that it may be a corruption of the Italian "girasole", following the sun. But I have discovered that whenever one puts "Jerusalem" in front a common garden noun it generally means "kind of like but not actually a". For instance, Jerusalem Sage and Jerusalem Cricket.
All of these crops, besides the rye, are in for the main-season long-haul, and will be harvested sometime in September or October. Having shown them as juveniles, you can expect some full-grown images from us later on...