The Urban Farmer's Almanac

Last year was the first time I went morel mushroom hunting, and Jared and I did OK for a first try. Over Memorial Day weekend this year, I decided to head out east to a clearcut off 97 between Cle Elum and Leavenworth (which is as close as you’ll get from me, unless you’re a blood relation, in which case I might tell you which Green Trails map it’s on. And this is for a pretty mediocre patch).

With 2 kids in tow, I was only hoping to find a few and leave it at that. Which is exactly what happened. I found exactly 15 morels. Which I was pretty happy with. The sausage leek mushroom pie was delicious, but maybe not worth all the time and gas it took to track them down.

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I went outside last night to take a look at how the garden was doing, and I noticed a funny leaf in with the raspberries. We’ve been battling morning glory in the yard forever, and it keeps popping up everywhere, especially in quiet neglected corners. I started to follow the vine down to the bottom of the raspberry thicket (which really it an applicable word; it’s a jungle in there) when I heard a little hiss and saw a black and white ball of fur. Hanging out in a raised bed of raspberries was a little kitten, probably just a couple weeks old. Apparently leaving your baby in a raspberry patch is the cat equivalent of floating your baby down a river in a reed basket.

Free Kitten. Loves to garden.

This was not entirely a surprise. There were kittens born under our porch last year that we tried to lure out (without any luck) and now they are roaming the neighborhood with their feral mother. They don’t really belong to anyone, though the neighbor lady feeds them, and at one point tried to tell us that when we bought the house, the cat came with it (which we ignored).

Until now. Baby cats are invading our shores. The onslaught must be stopped. So if you want an adorable cat, let us know. Before Hannah informs us that this foster placement has moved to adoption (dan@theurbanfarmersalmanac.com).

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There were a few random daffodil and tulip bulbs in the front bed of our house when we bought it that I thought we’d managed to dig out last year to make room for vegetables. But this year another one popped up, and kept growing and growing. I finally needed the space for the things I’m actually going to grow there (cherry tomatoes) so I decided it was time to dig it out.

As soon as I pulled it out of the ground, a garlicky-oniony scent overwhelmed me. Turns out it wasn’t a flower, but a leek, and an enormous one at that. Just about big enough to be a new child in the family, with a fine head of hair (look at the picture if you have no idea what I’m talking about.)

Our asparagus patch has finally started bursting, and I figured out that the lard I rendered last year makes the most wonderful pie crust, so a leek tart with asparagus and feta was in the cards. Yum.

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Yes, weeds in the plural, dandelions to be specific. Hannah and I were out on an errand, and I was telling her about a recipe for dandelion bread that I had just read about (in Langdon Cook’s foraging book Fat of the Land – anybody seeing a trend here? However I can guarantee I won’t be diving down to the bottom of Puget Sound to spear lingcod anytime soon.) Of course she was delighted by the idea of cooking with flowers, so we kept our eyes out for a good patch. We found some huge dandelions out beside a sketchy Chinese restaurant and filled the only vessel we had handy – mom’s hat.

Back in the kitchen, the process of picking the yellow petals from the flower head was a bit tedious, but got easier as I refined my technique. I needed to get a full cup of them, which was no small feat, and Hannah lost interest pretty early on in the project. The bread was a basic quickbread, and the dandelions only seemed to add color (though a lovely color it was), and apparently also a ridiculous amount of vitamins. The flavor was pretty plain, and next time, I’d add some cinnamon, or maybe lemon zest. Fortunately we had some tasty lemon curd from the Bent family pantry, and it made the perfect accompaniment.

I’m also thinking that dandelion petals could go into pancakes or scones just to sneak in a little extra nutrition and interest from the kids, but only when I have an extra half hour to kill. The recipe is after the break.

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A couple weeks ago, Hannah found an egg in the bag of cedar shavings that we keep on the back porch for the rabbit’s cage. We kind of laughed about it and thought it was a good thing she found it in a timely manner. Since then, we’ve found a couple more in there, and today we caught the chicken in the act. Apparently when I let them out to roam in the yard, she much prefers the bag of bedding to the normal nesting box for egg-laying. Maybe it’s a message that I should clean it out more often, or that she prefers the wood shavings to straw. (Though last summer we did find a couple eggs laid on the straw bale in the shed, so I think it might just be fun to have a change of scenery every once in awhile.)

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