A House Called Nut - Life in the backwoods of Finland

Berry indulgence

Now that Christmas has come and gone, I can finally tell you what we did with all those berries. We picked gooseberries, redcurrants, and raspberries from the garden, over 25 pounds of strawberries from a local farm, and buckets of bilberries from the surrounding forest. After my first canning adventure with bilberries, and quickly realized that 1. I'd caught the canning bug and much of our summer bounty was destined for jam jars and 2. We should give the jam away as xmas presents and not spoil the surprise on the internet.

Presto chango. Berries into jam. (Special thanks to my friend Helen for jam art!)

Other plans are in place for the raspberries and redcurrants, so all that added up to: bilberries preserved in lemon syrup, gooseberry jam, gooseberry-elderflower jam, and, my favorite, strawberry jam. This was my first taste of homemade strawberry jam, and ohh it is so good. Heaven in a jar.

All recipes are from The River Cottage Preserves Handbook, which proved a very good introduction to canning. Also from the book was strawberry vinegar, which I've greedily saved for myself. It's wonderful in salads and can also be added to fizzy drinks for an extra kick. I dread the day I use my last drop, but hopefully that won't happen before strawberry season rolls around next year. It's pretty too:

Janne and I have become partial to food gifts in recent years and I hope to keep up the tradition in the future. In addition to this year's preserves, we've given Christmas presents such as flavored olive oil, bottled balsamic reduction, and dried wild mushrooms. It's really fun to make these things together, and we don't get stressed out with all the spending and materialism. Since they're edible, we know everyone can actually use them. It's disturbing to think of all the pretty things wrapped in pretty paper and condemned to a dusty shelf.

I think we've saved just enough berry loot to keep us going for the year, and in the meantime treats like this have been appearing on the dining room table:

A little reminder of summer in the cold, cold winter.

Homegrown

Thank you for all the get well wishes! I'm happy to report that I'm all better, and just in time to enjoy some sunshine (though our continuing water problems mean that I really should continue that rain dance).

And now for some food talk.

I always mean to share with you the seasonal meals we're enjoying from the garden, but so rarely get around to it. This negligence has everything to do with intoxicating scents and alluring sights. What's a hungry person to do? Only after a satisfying homegrown, home-cooked meal, will it occur to me that I should have taken photos. Woopsie.

I made it halfway there this time. Here's what dinner for two looks like...pre-washing and -cooking.

Since I didn't manage the "after" photo, I'm afraid you'll have to use your imagination. The carrots and beets were grated raw and mixed with lettuce from the garden, sunflower seeds, and a balsamic-dijon-honey vinaigrette. The potatoes and beans were thrown together with tagliatelle and pesto in a tasty pasta alla Genovese. On day two (we're big fans of leftovers) we topped it with pine nuts and goat cheese for variety. Delish.

Our latest harvest:

Jerusalem artichokes, aka sunchokes.

And this is what they looked like in August, well before we pulled them up.

We missed out on their bright, sunflower-like bloom because of delayed planting, but still admired the tall, green plants that effectively shade away any threatening weeds. Jerusalem artichokes only have to be planted once, making sure some tubers remain in the ground after harvest, and they'll feed you indefinitely.

Our chokes got to mingle with some homegrown chard in this tart from the Ottolenghi cookbook I've been raving about.

At last! The finished product!

Windfalls

Pruning the apple trees in the spring turned out to be a good idea, because, wow, do we have a lot of apples. Last week was brimming with good, apple pickin' intentions, but I'm sure you know what can happen to good intentions. And those stubborn apples continue to ripen with total disregard for our schedules and deadlines. The nerve. Until I finally make it up the ladder to do some real harvesting, the windfalls are keeping me on my toes (or crouching on the ground, more like).

So far Janne and I (and lucky, apple-loving visitors) have enjoyed apple pie, apple cake, pumpkin and apple soup, and apple juice--all from windfalls. The apple juice rescued us when we realized there were three buckets of apples in the dining room and something had to be done. Enter the steam juicer.

Now, steam juicers are quite an ordinary appliance in Finland, but since I've yet to come across them elsewhere I'm not sure how common they really are. The beauty of a steam juicer is that there's little or no prep involved. We quartered the apples before placing them--skin, seeds, bruises and all--into the juicer to speed up the process and hopefully extract more juice, but we could have just as easily thrown them in whole.

Apples go in.

Juice comes out.

I made one fresh, unflavored batch to enjoy now, threw some cloves and a cinnamon stick into the steamer with the remaining batches and canned them for later. It's delicious. Thank you, steam juicer. The cooking process took the better part of the day, but only demanded our attention for a few minutes here and there. So now we have five quarts of spiced apple juice and probably a fresh bucket of windfalls playing hide and seek. Can you guess what we're doing this weekend?

Harvest time

Thinning carrots

Tending the vegetable garden has been hard work and not everything has turned out as we might have hoped. The radish and daikon suffered a sad fate when trips away coincided with heat waves, and some hungry, hungry caterpillars devoured all the kale in one sitting. Must have been tasty! But thrown into the lessons we’ve learned about watering, pests, mulch, and weeds have been tremendous rewards.

Beans, beans, beans

NZ spinach salad with homemade strawberry vinaigrette, goat cheese and pine nuts. Chard and tomato pasta.

Recently, I’ve been so occupied harvesting, cleaning, cooking, and eating all our wonderful produce that I’m not quite sure how it’s gone unmentioned for so long. We’ve now harvested two types of runner beans, two varieties of chard, New Zealand spinach, potatoes, and romaine lettuce. We’re still waiting a bit on the beets, carrots, squash, and Jerusalem artichokes, but there’s plenty more of virtually everything else. Hooray for multiple plantings!

The unexpected hero of our garden has been potato. I’ll admit that I wasn’t too excited about growing potatoes—the ones from the shops here are local, cheap, and tasty, so why bother? But, oh, the delight of moving a little dirt aside and unveiling a perfect cluster of gems. I’ve been planning potato dishes just for an excuse to dig some more up. And they’re not bad to eat either. Since I can clearly remember the previous tastiest potato ever (mmmm those Jersey Royals), I’m able to say with confidence that these are the yummiest ones I’ve ever eaten.

Now that the beds have been dug and the land cleared, we have big plans for next year’s garden, including a greenhouse, lots more varieties, and greater amounts of our favorites. If you live in a cold climate and have veg suggestions, I’m all ears.

Wood craft

Remember all those trees we cleared? I thought they all had a date with the fireplace, but it turns out Janne had something much more creative in mind for the little ones.

The bean vines have grown right up to the balcony and now a rainbow of pretty little flowers are budding.

Meanwhile, the peas have made a home on this trellis fashioned from twigs and an old fishing net.

Then there's the set of tepee-style bean poles for our second planting.

Up they come!

Our new compost frame is still a work in progress. But looking pretty good, eh? 

Tools

There's no denying the romance in this project, but living in the house called Nut is a lot of work too. From the composting toilet to the woodstove and the garden, maintaining the cottage requires  real muscle power on a daily basis. It’s more than I’d expected, but it’s also a lot more rewarding than I ever could have imagined. And, if we're seeing the glass half full, it keeps us fit too. I used to lift weights, but after a long day of outdoor work I barely have energy left to lift my fork. Then, of course, there’s that mountain to cycle up every time we leave the house. If nothing else, we’ll leave this place in pretty darn good shape.

Still, after hauling yet another bucket of water uphill from lake to garden, I was starting to feel nostalgic about suburban sprinklers…and apartments with landscaping. Janne must have been feeling the same way, because moments later he had hooked up the long-forgotten water pump and was watering the garden with this:

Unbelievable! How could I have forgotten about the water pump (goodness knows what Janne’s excuse is)? All that water for the sauna and the garden has been hand carried for seven whole months. There’s even a sprinkler to go with it:

And after the garden was watered, the chainsaw finally came out of its hiding place.

It’s all good and well to do things by hand, but sometimes a power tool is just what you need to brighten the day.

Radish joy

The mood here changed from fare-thee-well-heat to good-riddance-heat, after an uncomfortably balmy night punctuated by mosquito buzzing and seagull screaming. I was relieved, joyous, grateful to awake to rain and gray skies. Sometimes I think living in this northern climate leads to mild weather obsession--how can we help it? When so much of the year is dark and cold, it's hard not to feel that every moment of fair weather should be spent outside. But I have lists and lists of crafty, foody indoor activities waiting for attention (not to mention all the work and chores), so let it rain!

After a slow start, the garden really benefited from the heat wave and we've just sampled our first homegrown veggies:

Two radishes, pink and pretty. It's a modest accomplishment, but there aren't words to describe our satisfaction. As soon I can count twenty pink marbles, I'm making the chilled radish soup in The River Cottage Year, which makes use of the whole radish, greens and all. I'm also drooling over Origami Mommy's Korean radish salad. Mmm, that looks good.

Have you started harvesting anything from your garden yet?

Three things

Last weekend, the Finnish graduation party season took us back east to Janne’s home regions of Savonia and Karelia where cheek pinching and oversized dessert portions abound. At one grandma’s house we were actually served pie and ice cream before the main course, which was then followed by a second dessert. Why did no one bring me here as a child? In between pettings and feedings, we found time to accept one gift at each of the three homes we visited. It was tough, but we managed.

Janne’s parents got the ball rolling by giving us these swell binoculars. I haven’t quite managed to glue them to my face yet, but one of these days…



Our little home in the woods is surrounded by wildlife, some of which we can only glimpse in the distance or whose silhouettes we can just faintly discern. The melodic yodel of our arctic loon neighbors has sent us to sleep for weeks, but even with some serious zoom action on the camera, we weren’t able to really see them until now. They’re beautiful.

Savonian Mummo (grandma) and Ukki’s (grandpa) cheery green, red, and white house is one of my favorite places to be. It’s the hub of family activity, where everyone works hard to defy the stereotype of the stern, silent Finn. Somehow, someone found out that even though we’ve planted this big garden, we don’t have rhubarb. No rhubarb! Unbelievable. I think you can tell where this is heading.

After traveling home with one of Mummo’s many rhubarb plants and surveying the yard to find the spot, we dug a hole, planted it, stood back to admire the plant and dream of pies, and then, a little to the right, we saw this spot of red:



So we had rhubarb already! And apparently we did pick the rhubarb site. How about that. Only days before, you might have caught me envying Monkey Lobster’s amazing rhubarb discovery. Was it a charm, perhaps?

But this next gift from Karelia was my favorite. Here’s a peek at Janne’s uncle Paavo making it himself:



It’s a naalbinding (kinnasneulatekniikka) needle, forged by Paavo out of scrap copper. Janne’s paternal grandma, Martta Mummo, is undoubtedly the most skilled craftsperson I have ever had the privilege to meet, and she has promised me a private naalbinding lesson on our next visit. Here’s the finished needle with a few enthusiastic, amateur stitches by me:



More on naalbinding once I get past the basic stitch. In the meantime, if anyone knows of any good naalbinding resources, I’d be grateful to hear of them.

Vegetable progress report

The garden has pretty much taken Janne and me hostage since we cut down the first twiggy tree, and it looks like we’re destined to be its slaves as long as the weather is fair. There are still all manner of knickknacks and mysterious rusty objects to sort through, a new compost frame to build, mammoth weeds to conquer, and other tiny tasks too numerous to name. But progress has been made. Since putting in the last two terraced beds and the bean patch, we’ve dug four smaller raised beds on forgivingly even ground, washed all the mucky, neglected garden furniture, and finally planted the potatoes and Jerusalem artichokes. Whew.

Mindful of seed monopolies, diminishing varieties of cultivated produce, and other unfortunate effects of the shady world of corporate agriculture, we took care to purchase our seeds from an independent shop that specializes in heirloom varieties. They even came in pretty packages:



Then, this weekend, after all that care and planning, we abandoned the garden in a record-breaking heat wave and put on a remarkable performance of out-of-sight-out-of-mind. Mindless of the neglect, the seedlings didn't just get by, they thrived. Perhaps it's time to become slaves of something else...like lying in the hammock maybe?

I'm armed with a salad bowl and ready to attack, but it looks like there's some more waiting to be done. Will any of these heirloom varieties taste different? I wonder. Some at least will have a special appearance, like the stripey beets and the rainbow carrots. The carrots! Now, they have been a particular source of excitement. I’ve never tasted one straight from the ground and this, I am told, is the only way to eat a carrot.

How are your veggies coming along?

A whole load of dirt

Half a load, actually. After digging out space for garden beds in the side of the hill, we had to fill them with something. Happily, soil processed from municipal compost was available just down the road. A man with a big truck brought it to us:



Janne and I had meant to finish off our raised beds a long time ago, but I’m sure you know how life can get in the way of good intentions. Well, the sight of all that earth spurred us to action. We finished off an additional two beds (that’s five in total) and, in a sudden burst of inspiration, worked through a spring downpour to lay down what will soon become a trellised bean patch. After some amplified hillside digging and rock-carrying (we are sore, very sore), we added a layer of partially decomposed leaves to each bed. This was followed by a lot of shoveling:



and hauling:



And, at last, the sowing.

At sunset we dragged ourselves back inside, wet and filthy, but proud of the day’s work. Not so many years ago, you couldn’t have paid me to do this kind of labor, but here I am literally dreaming of carrots. I’m not sure if it’s a love of food, or nature, or just one of those shifts in perspective that we all go through now and then, but Janne and I have both succumbed to gardening fever. And it is so satisfying.

All this planting business might seem a bit tardy to any southern readers already feasting on baby spinach, but—trust me—our northern nights are still barely above freezing, and the long days will make up for our delayed start. I’ll admit that we’re still housing a bag of potatoes that should have been in the ground weeks ago and whose garden patch is still worryingly abstract (let’s not even talk about the Jerusalem artichokes). But, hooray, the seeds are sown and vegetables will soon be on their way. Our very first garden!

Are you growing vegetables? What’s sprouting?