But No Grey

Day 55: All but one of my looms stand empty, the last being the bonker loom which I warped with something to the tune of fifteen yards which is going to keep me occupied for a while in that regard. Now the question is: what's next? I have a cupboard full of 8/2 cotton, bins and bins of yarn, specialty threads, bouclé, even a small amount of silk which was handed down to me by another weaver. I know what I want to make, but there is no grey among the two dozen colours represented here: no dove, no slate, no pewter, birch or battleship, no grey at all to make the wool of little sheepies in a field of blue flowers. It is hard for me to think about other possibilities when a particular one is in the forefront of my mind. The lack of grey is a plug in my mental plumbing, through which no creative juices can pass. I valiantly try to counsel myself to restraint. My supplier's annual sale is coming up in January or February. I must hold out until then. Somewhere, a small voice suggests another summer-and-winter project with yarn instead of thread, a scarf or shawl instead of a coverlet, but the yarns in the bins do not inspire me. I need grey. In the gloom of a Pacific Northwest winter, I want grey. As Mr. Spock would say, "Illogical."

Magic And Mystery

Day 54: Seein' as how I already broke with tradition and made the St. Nicholas' Day cookies several days ahead of time, I chose to celebrate by putting up the Solstice Shrub today instead of on the 10th. The world could use more Light right now, both literally and metaphorically. I wasn't sure I'd get beyond erecting the tree, but by noon, all the birds were in their roosts, nestled among the boughs alongside snowflakes, icicles, a few frogs, a cat or two and the occasional sheep. Easily 80% of my ornaments are avian, probably closer to 85%. There are jays and nuthatches, goldfinches, parrots and penguins, cardinals galore, as well as dozens of purely whimsical, stylized birds but front and center is a Cockatoo representing the love of my life, gone now some twenty years though always close in my heart. His is always the first ornament to go on the tree and last to come down (unless there's a stray hiding somewhere). So many memories hang on my Solstice Shrub in caricature! Today, it shines in anticipation of the returning Light, illuminated by warm recollections of seasons past.

Sheep In The Daisies

Day 53: I can't help it. I love sheep, and couldn't resist doing yet another variation on this inkle-woven krokbragd design, this time putting daisies in their field. In hindsight, I wish I'd made the stems a little longer and darker green, but that just means that I have an excuse to make more. Krokbragd on the inkle loom is fun to do, but it does not lend itself to complicated designs. Creating a pattern could be likened to designing a font for a nine-pin printer (remember those?), because although it can be made as wide as you like, the actual pattern must develop over four rows, two of which are identical and alternate. In this case, row one separates the sheep and is also the center and stem of the daisy, then row two creates a leg and a leaf, row three is the sheep's body and face, and also the space between the daisies, followed by row four which is a repeat of row two (i.e., the second leg and leaf). Krokbragd is not reversible. Solid blocks of colour appear on the reverse, visible here where the ribbon turns back on itself. Inkle weaving of any type (krokbragd or otherwise) is limited by the size of the loom. Three yards is the biggest flock I can manage.

Cookie!

Day 52: The world is a pretty grim place right now, so I decided to get a tiny little head start on the holidays by making spritz. Normally, I wouldn't start my holiday baking until St. Nicholas' Day when spritz or sandies would kick off the season. However, I'd run myself out of cookies, and since I am the original Cookie Monster, I had a good excuse. There was just one hitch: margarine. The recipe calls for three sticks, leaving it up to the cook to decide whether they want to use butter, margarine. or a combination of the two. For decades...decades!...I've made spritz using one cube of margarine and two of butter. I seldom use margarine anywhere else, except in my chocolate chip cookies. And now, stick margarine has all but disappeared from grocery store shelves, with the exception of that branded Imperial.

I don't know what they put in Imperial, but a few months ago when I made my first batch of chocolate chip cookies using it, they flattened out to wafers with little chocolate mountains poking up. Not only were they flat, they didn't taste like they should have done. I tried to find another brand of stick margarine, and that's when I realized there was a problem. Apparently, no one is making it now. Several experiments later, I found that by adding almost a full cup extra of flour, they were at least edible. So why did I dive right into spritz without thinking about that?

I thought the dough looked and felt off in the mixer bowl, but when I tried to put it through the cookie press, it became obvious that it was just too gooey. I put it back on the mixer and added flour...roughly an additional 3/4 cup to the 4 cups specified in the recipe...until it reached the right consistency. Perhaps I could have added another 1/4 cup of sugar as well (I'll do that next time). Imperial margarine is a royal disaster.

Anything But Blah

Day 51: Whatever it was, it certainly wasn't Blah because Blah Coral (Ramaria acrisiccescens) has straight branches. I discovered a dozen or so very curly specimens of this fungus growing in the moss within a yard or so of an asphalt road in a small community of houses. I did not take a specimen, but its general morphology ruled out Ramaria and guided me toward the Clavulinas. It would require microscopic examination to completely eliminate the less common contenders, but I suspect that it is Clavulina coralloides, which is most frequently observed in the Pacific Northwest. I'l content myself with that for now. In any event, I thought they were quite pretty, a purely subjective and artistic appraisal as opposed to a scientific one. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," they say.

The Funkiest Fruit

Day 50: One of my personal mottoes is this: life is too short not to try new foods. I've eaten some strange things in my time (commercially-produced deep-fried caterpillar larvae, for example, which were actually quite good), and when the opportunity arises to sample something new, I'm nearly always game. When a friend first offered me medlars, I had no idea what she was talking about. I began researching the subject and found out that this unusual fruit may well have been one of the first cultivated as a foodstuff. It is a member of the Rose family and native to Europe, hence the scientific name Mespilus germanica. But the more I read, the more I wondered why anyone ever put one in their mouth in the first place. You see, medlars are only ready for use when they're rotten.

Unripe, the medlar is hard and tart, but when they've been hit by a few frosts or have lain on the ground for a while, the interior goes soft and mushy. They can also be gathered when unripe and brought to this stage by a process called bletting in which they are allowed to ferment/rot in storage. This photo shows some being bletted on my dehydrator racks. I've already processed one batch with the intention of making medlar jelly, a purportedly delicious and honey-like concoction. Medlars can also be eaten out of hand, so I tried a thoroughly squishy one while I was sorting these according to ripeness. The texture was similar to that of persimmon, and the flavour carried notes of both persimmon and apple with a hint of pear in the background. You just don't want to look at what you're eating.

To make a clear jelly, whole medlars should be gently simmered for 1-1.5 hours undisturbed. Simply add enough water to barely cover and bring to a boil. Cool slightly, and filter the processed medlars through a jelly bag. You'll be throwing away a lot of pulp, skin and large seeds, but don't let that deter you. What you want is the beautiful, ruby-coloured liquor dripping from your jelly bag over the next 12  hours. Measure the liquid, add 1/2 as much sugar (by volume), and cook down as you would any other non-pectin jelly. Use a cold plate to check for consistency, and when your jelly is done, jar it up and process for 10 minutes in a boiling-water bath. It will be a week or more before all my medlars have been processed, so you'll have to stay tuned for a report on the flavour of the jelly.

Dacrymyces Palmatus

Day 49: It can be difficult to distinguish a specimen of Dacrymyces palmatus (Orange Jelly, above) from Tremella mesenterica (Witches' Butter) without a microscope, but if you are in the field, your best course of action is to examine the substrate on which they are growing. Dacrymyces grows on rotting conifer wood, Tremella on that of hardwoods (rarely on conifer). As Dacrymyces dry out, they tend to collapse in on themselves and deteriorate. On the other hand, Tremella shrinks and hardens. Neither species is poisonous, but neither are they considered edible (a term which implies some desirability as a food).