Easter, Fertility, and Farming, by Melinda

Obviously, for Christians Easter is the most significant holiday of the liturgical year, as it celebrates rebirth, regrowth, new spiritual beginnings, and a new life in the most spectacular fashion.

Crossing over in lunisolar calendar

But there are fascinating historical aspects of Easter that lend it other nuances. For one, it's the only "movable" holiday in the Western liturgical calendar--that is, like almost all Hebrew and Muslim holidays, it's calculated by a lunar or "lunisolar" method, while other Christian holidays have set dates in the Gregorian calendar. Easter 2013, for instance, falls on the first Sunday (31st March) after the first full moon (27th March) after 20th March (the Spring Equinox).  Hence, in any given year it can occur from March 22nd to April  25th; according to one scholar, the year-to-year sequence of Easter dates is so complex that it "takes 5.7 million years to repeat"!

This lunisolar calculation is similar to Jewish Passover or Pesach, which occurs around the same time as Easter and marks the beginning of the harvest season in Israel, as well as celebrating the Jews' release from
bondage into a new life (mirroring the theme of rebirth in Christian Easter). The seven foods that were sacred to the Jews (of which Jesus was one) symbolized the seasons of a year's farming, the Jewish connection to the "good land," and a hoped-for abundant harvest--pomegranates, dates, olives, figs, grapes, and wheat (linked with Passover). Jesus' selection of wheat and grapes (wine) at the last Passover meal to represent an abundant "new life," hence, is symbolically profound both theologically and in terms of the land, the soil.

The Worm Moon

Further, vis-a-vis farming, the March full moon is called the Worm Moon, a name bestowed on it by the Algonquins, as this is when the ground begins to soften and worms with their castings reappear, worm-castings (poop) being one of the richest components of the soil and a sure sign of healthy, fertile, organic soil. That's also why robins are so numerous at this time of year, eating lots of worms in early-morning darkness before they lay their eggs around mid-morning (click here for more). The connection between eggs, the moon, fertility, and the growth of new life is at the heart of much Easter symbolism, if you go back far enough in history.

"Easter," for instance, according to the English monk and Christian writer Bede, was named after "Eostre" or "Ostara," the Saxon dawn-goddess of fertility and new life. Eostre had many goddess-analogues in other cultures, including Aphrodite, Astarte, Ishtar, Hathor, Kali, and Demeter (mother of Persephone; we talked about Persephone's symbolism in farming in an earlier post [click here]).

Eostre

What links these goddesses with both Easter and farming is their association with earth's fertility, fostered through cycles of death/darkness/dirt and life/light/air, both seasonally and liturgically. Kali, for instance, in Hindu culture, was described as "the ground," meaning "the mysterious source of life," "ultimate reality," and "the very soil, all-creating and all-consuming." As farmers and gardeners, we need to revere "the ground"--that is, the soil, the humus, which is the earthly source of life and growth--and we need to understand both its productive and destructive cycles, that life springs from death, which of course is also the idea behind the Easter liturgy.

In their role as progenitors of fertility, these goddesses sometimes were

The hare's decorated egg-gift

symbolized by eggs, which of course are a source of new life. Our popular custom of giving Easter eggs thus also has ancient roots. As far back as 3000 BCE in ancient Persia, red-dyed eggs were given to mark the start of spring.  But why are our Easter eggs delivered by a rabbit? According to one legend, the goddess Eostre found an injured bird and saved its life by transforming it to a hare (another animal associated with springtime and fertility). But the transformation was incomplete, and the hare retained the bird's ability to lay eggs. To thank Eostre for its life, the hare decorated its eggs, leaving them as gifts for Eostre. The constellation Lepus,which can be seen just south of Orion, is, in fact, Eostre's egg-laying hare! Think of that when you watch our new hens this spring and summer at the Farm!  Think of Eostre's dying bird, reborn as a rabbit!

Constellation Lepus

A New PASA Blog By Brian Snyder (by Melinda)

PASA's regions for buying locally

Brian Snyder, the Executive Director of the Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture (PASA--click here to go to PASA's site) has started a blog, "Write to Farm" (click here).  I've added Brian's page to blogs we follow in the lower left column of "From the Furrows."  Brian's writings keep us up-to-date on the lumbering progress of the Food Safety Modernization Act; PASA has worked its way through mountains of paperwork about the legislation (1200 pages and counting).

As Brian says:  "To recap very quickly, FSMA was signed into law in January 2010 and the proposed rules were released exactly two years later." There's a four-month public comment period, ending May 16th, to which PASA has contributed substantially, outlining the concerns of Pennsylvania farmers, CSAs, farmers' markets, and so forth. PASA partnered with agriculture groups like the National Sustainable Agriculture Coalition (click here) and many others in its efforts to craft the best possible legislation, but they're still seeking input from concerned individuals. The proposed FSMA regulations that affect us most closely are those governing PRODUCE (click here). There you can read the regulations in your copious free time (LOL), as well as comments that have been made thus far. Feel free to add your own remarks!  (Just hit the "Comment Now" button in the upper-right corner of that page.)

On his own blog, "Write to Farm," Brian recommends you read, as a concerned farmer or consumer, his March 19th post (click here), "The Food Safety Saga and Why It Matters," which outlines some of the thornier problems that have cropped up (whoops, no pun intended!) in the last few years.

As well, PASA and its affiliates have organized several events in this region where people can meet and discuss the issues.  The one closest to us is at the Exton, Chester County Economic Development Center (see here), on Thursday, April 18th; there is another workshop, specifically for cheesemakers, in Harrisburg on Monday, April 22nd (see here if you're interested).

Meanwhile, let's hope for a warmer spring than what we've had so far!  Poor Punxsutawney Phil--it isn't his fault, yet now he's being sued (seriously) for being wrong!

Easy Soup for those Winter-Market Carrots, by Melinda

Super-duper easy and quick!  You can vary the broth, fat source, dairy additions, and herbs to make this vegetarian or vegan, too.

Easy Carrot Soup with Mint

Carrot Soup with Mint

• 3 tbsp butter
• 1 lb carrots, whole if small; quartered and cut in ~2-inch lengths if larger
• one 3-oz. potato, peeled and diced
• 3 cups chicken broth
• 1/2 cup Greek yogurt
• 1 tbsp chopped mint

In a large pan, melt butter on medium-high heat. Add carrots, potato, and broth; bring to a boil. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low, and cook about 20 min. In a blender and working in batches, puree the soup. (Alternatively, you can leave the soup in the pan and use an immersion blender to puree it.) Divide among 4 bowls; top with yogurt and sprinkle with chopped mint. This recipe appears in Every Day with Rachael Ray, April 2013.

Winter Market, Friday the 15th, and Wild Herb Ravioli, by Melinda

Lamium purpureum (Deadnettle)

Our Winter Market on Friday the 15th of March will feature kale and freshly dug carrots--what a treat!

And here's a recipe for a green ravioli just in time for St. Patrick's Day! This recipe is adapted from one by Tama Matsuoka Wong, whom I mentioned in the previous post  and who forages wild herbs for upscale restaurants in the New York City area.  Her recipe calls for chickweed,  deadnettle, and onion grass (aka "wild garlic"). It's called "dead" nettle to distinguish it from stinging nettle--deadnettle has no sting to it and is quite mild in flavor. It's in the mint family, so it has a square stem (which you can feel), though it doesn't taste as "minty" as spearmint or peppermint.

Deadnettle's exotic, tiny flowers

The University of Delaware Extension blog (photo above left) treats it as a weed to be eradicated, but it's actually highly desirable as an edible wild plant, called Lamium purpureum in Latin.  In fact, right now, it looks like it does (in the above left photo) in our neighborhood. It's important not only as an edible green, however, but also as a very early source of nectar for honeybees and the wild bees or bee-like insects (e.g., carpenter bees, hoverflies, etc.) that later in the season will pollinate our domesticated crops.

However, if you don't want to use wild greens in this recipe, you can substitute spinach with the stems removed. You also could substitute some of the kale we'll get at Winter Market The recipe is very quick and easy to make, as you use pre-made eggroll wrappers, about 8- inches square, which you can buy at the supermarket.

Wild-Herb Ravioli

• 3 tbsp unsalted butter, divided
• 1 & 1/2 oz chopped chickweed (~2 cups); if desired, you can substitute spinach with the stems removed, or kale with stems removed and chopped
• 1 oz. deadnettle tops, including flowers, chopped (~ 1 & 1/2 cups), or spinach or kale (stems removed & chopped)
• 1 oz onion grass (aka wild garlic), or substitute chives, cut into 1/2-in. to 1-in. lengths (3/4 cup), and more for garnish
• salt & fresh-ground pepper
• 2 oz. ricotta cheese (1/4 cup)
• 2 oz. freshly grated Parmesan [or Pecorino], plus more for sprinkling
• 18 eggroll wrappers, ~8-in. square
• 1 tbsp olive oil

Melt 1 tbsp butter in medium skillet over medium heat. Add chickweed, deadnettle, & wild garlic (onion grass) greens [or substitute greens] & cook till bright green & softened, about 2 min (a bit longer for substitute greens). Transfer to food processor & pulse till finely chopped. Season w/ a pinch each of salt & pepper. Transfer to a medium bowl & fold in ricotta & parmesan w/ rubber spatula or large spoon. Let cool.

Place 9 eggroll wrappers on work surface. On each wrapper, mound 4 separate teaspoonfuls of filling in a grid 2-in. from the edges. Dip a finger in water & trace a circle around each mound of filling. Place remaining 9 eggroll wrappers atop the filled ones and press to seal around each mound of filling. Cut out 36 ravioli with a 2-inch ring cutter. Make sure edges are pressed together well.

Bring a large pot of salted water to boil; add oil. Cook ravioli until al dente, 5 to 8 min. Drain well.
Serve topped w/ remaining 2 tbsp melted butter & a sprinkling of chopped onion grass (wild garlic).

This recipe by Tama Matsuoka Wong is featured in the March 2013 issue of Martha Stewart Living magazine.

Foraging Wild Winter Greens in Your Yard, by Melinda

Chickweed

Chickweed Stem

While we've had to forego our last Winter Markets because the protracted extreme cold slowed the plants' growth, there still are greens to be had, right under your feet!  Believe it or not, some delightful edible greens actually grow wild outside during the winter.  (Don't sneer at the idea of eating "weeds"--some of the most chi-chi restaurants are now using foraged greens and other veggies! In the New York area, one fashionable forager is Tama Matsuoka Wong, who collects "weeds" for a number of upscale restaurants; click here for an article about her.)

One favored plant is chickweed, Stellaria media, a low-growing, bright green plant, with leaves around 1/4- to 1/2-inch in diameter. Eventually the plant forms a creeping mat on the ground (see photo at top), which is one of the ways it reproduces and thrives. By the way, there are a number of varieties of chickweed, but common chickweed, the one I'm discussing, has a tell-tale strip of tiny hairs down just one side of the stem (see photo at upper right). On my plants, I had to use a magnifying glass to see these hairs, but quite honestly, don't stress over it.  I've been eating my chickweed for years and never knew about this line of hairs till I started this post!

Detail of chickweed flower

As it matures, chickweed forms its tiny white flowers (with five pairs of double-petals) and its seedpod more or less simultaneously. The leaves, stems, flowers and seedpods of chickweed all are edible. Chickweed is in the family Caryophyllaceae, that is, the family of "Pinks" or carnations, which also are edible, if you can find them unsprayed.  If you like the idea of including edible flowers in your salads and other recipes, click here for a very useful chart listing edible flowers, as well as plants to avoid.  (More cocktail-party conversation:  in the Middle Ages, pinks or carnations were associated with the Passion of Christ. The reasoning is a bit convoluted but makes sense if you think about it:  carnations smell like cloves, and cloves look like nails, and so the carnation was called the "Nail flower" and linked with the nails of the crucifixion.)

Some butterflies feed on chickweed, and, as the name suggests, chickens love it! If you keep chickens (which we'll be doing), this is one of the few fresh greens available in winter.  But there's plenty to go around!  While chickweed has traditional medicinal uses, it also can be eaten raw, chopped, in a spring salad  (tastes mild, a bit like corn silk); in green smoothies; in soups & stews (don't cook the chickweed longer than ~5 minutes); or in a pesto sauce.  It can be steamed like spinach or sauteed briefly in oil or butter (with onion, garlic, bacon, or whatever floats your boat).

Bittercress in its early stages

Another edible plant that's positively FLOURISHING at the moment is bittercress (Cardamine hirsuta). It loves moist soil, which we have aplenty! I'm certain you'll find this in your yard. It's in the Brassica/Cabbage/Mustard family, and, despite its name, it's not bitter. It begins growing in a rosette (see left; click on the caption for the photo source), then gradually becomes more of a mound; it soon sends up long stalks with characteristically tiny, 4-petaled flowers (usually white or light pink) and long, slender fruits (about an inch long) with seeds inside. Some folks describe bittercress as a self-seeding annual, while others say it's perennial.  Regardless, it will be with you, once you have it! Its leaves are divided (pinnate), with leaflets opposite each other along the stems. While they're usually somewhat rounded, the leaflets also can be longer and more slender. As the plant assumes its mounded form, the original rosette shape is more difficult to discern. Eventually, as it flowers and fruits, it becomes downright leggy! But it's still tasty.  One writer describes bittercress as a "delicious, nutritious wild edible, reminiscent in flavor to watercress." One of its more amusing features, leading to nicknames like "shotweed" or "spitweed," is the tendency of its seedpods to shoot out their seeds at the slightest touch, sometimes right into your face while you're gathering it!

Bittercress leaf variants

At left, see the mounding growth habit of bittercress; for an image of the flowers and long, slender seed pods, click here. Note that each flower has only four petals; at right is a chart of possible various leaf shapes, showing how the leaflets are opposite along the stem (and that there usually are 7 leaflets).

Onion grass

Onion grass w/ tiny bulbs

Finally, another delicious  green that grows now (actually more year-round) is often called wild garlic, but "back in the day," suburban gardeners like my Dad called it "onion grass" and spent endless weekends trying to eradicate it from an otherwise pristine lawn!  (Love you, Dad.)  Onion grass has a strongly "oniony" fragrance and taste--it's really a treat!  ****Btw, onion grass has a couple look-alikes that are not edible; they have flat leaves (like lawn grass) and are related to lilies, which generally are toxic (except for daylilies, which are not in the same family). The non-edible look-alikes also DO NOT smell like onion.****  Wild onion has a round, hollow stem (like a chive), rather than a flat stem, and often the tips of the onion grass develop a little curl to them(above left). If you pick a stalk and crush it, and it doesn't smell like onion don't eat it!!!! As well, onion grass grows in clumps in your lawn and is taller than your grass (one of the reasons folks of my parents' generation were eager to get rid of it!).  And its bulbs (see above right) are very small.  If you have any doubts, about *any* plant, either check with our local agricultural  extension service, or with Angela Kidder (who is an expert forager), or get a good book like one of the Peterson guides. A Field Guide to Edible Wild Plants, by Lee Allen Peterson can be had at the library, or through an online bookseller, or free from Google Books (click here)--the Google Books version does leave out some pages, however, so as not to violate copyright laws.

And the dandelions are putting out new, tender leaves now!  Add to salads, pestos, omelets, or soups! For starter recipes for various parts of the dandelion plant (leaves, flowers, roots), click here.  And please do stay tuned for chickweed and bittercress recipes in the next post.