Oct. 7

A nondescript, grey-ish day today. Not really cold enough to justify making a morning fire, and not wet enough to sulk inside…The day before yesterday it was nearly icy, and I did make a fire in the woodburner, and then did my stretches in front of it, luxuriating in the heat. I kept the fire going for much of the morning, going in periodically to feed pieces of wood into the heavy black metal stove. Rich has replaced the woodburner glass on the right side, and re-painted the stove itself, bless him, so the stove looks very smart, ready for its heavy use through the winter. We live around it all through the cold season… As I pulled the kindling out of the feed sack, it struck me how similar this process is to the others I have going at the moment – feed wood into the fire. Strain the kefir grains out of the kefir, and feed it fresh milk. Water the herbs, that I’m growing from cuttings taken from other herbs. And when I make my sourdough starter, which I’m hoping to do today, I will be feeding the starter with fresh flour and water, to keep it going.

Each thing – the kefir, the starter, the herbs – replicate themselves, as only living things can do. Once started, they can recreate themselves indefinitely, given some care. They’re linked in a cycle of perpetual growth and rebirth – and they link me into that cycle as well.

It’s Rich’s perthyn again, I think – that complicated Welsh word that means connection, belonging – but on a whole different level. We’ve been talking about perthyn as it applies to family, and to community. This is perthyn on a microscopic level, with the tiny living organisms that ferment the kefir and leaven the bread. They are alive, so they need feeding. And you can only have a relationship with things that are alive.

Maybe it comes down to that, in the end. I want my food to be alive – and I want to have a relationship with it. I feed my food, and it feeds me. J.D. Salinger, in his story Teddy, puts it this way,“My sister was only a very tiny child then, and she was drinking her milk, and all of a sudden I saw that she was God and the milk was God.  I mean, all she was doing was pouring God into God, if you know what I mean.”

We often wonder what we’re doing here, trying to be self sufficient. After all, we’ll never truly be “off the grid” – we use electricity, and computers, and diesel for the cars and tractors. We don’t come close to producing all of our own fruits and vegetables. And even the things that I can make – bread, soap, cheese (well, sort of!) I don’t make all the time…Shop-bought bread is easier for sandwiches. Cheddar cheese melts better. And so we buy in the things that we need. The things that we make for ourselves are almost – extra. Luxury items.

But I think, for me, it’s not about trying to pull away from society, or  be “off the grid,” or save money. I simply want more of a quality of aliveness in my life.

Sure, I can buy a tomato wrapped in plastic from the shop. But when I plant a tomato seed, feed it with compost from our sheep, water it with water from our spring, pinch out the sideshoots, watch over it and talk to it and rejoice when it flowers, wait for the small green fruit to ripen, and finally, after many weeks, with infinite satisfaction, twist it gently off the stem – that’s not a tomato. That’s a relationship. It is a real and enduring passion, as real as any love affair. Put it in your mouth and bite down on the sweet, explosive burst of tomato-ness – that’s not food. That’s a feast.

Today on the farm I’ll be making more kefir. If you want to make your own kefir, here’s what you’ll need:

-       A clean 1 litre container with a lid

-       A packet of kefir starter (luckily for us, now easily available online!)

-       1 litre of fresh milk.

Bring the milk to boiling point, to eliminate extraneous germs. Then cool the milk to room temperature. (No hotter than 20-22 C) Add the contents of the sachet of starter, and stir well until the ferment has dissolved. Pour the mixture into the container (leave a little room at the top!) and incubate for 20-24 hours at room temperature. Depending on your taste, alter the amount of time you let it incubate – 48 hours will make a thicker, sourer kefir, 12 hours will make a thinner, sweeter one. The temperature will also affect how quickly the culture works. In warm summer months, the kefir will ferment faster.

- Once the kefir is fermented, strain it, and reserve the grains. Fresh milk can then be added to the grains, to make more kefir.

On the farm, we use kefir in smoothies. Just toss a handful of frozen berries, 2 cups of kefir and two bananas in the blender, and blend away. Because of the sourness of the kefir, we find the bananas are important for sweetness. Add honey or sugar to taste. Enjoy!