Happy New Year!

Auld Lang Syne

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?
And days of auld lang syne, my dear,
And days of auld lang syne.
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days of auld lang syne?


We twa hae run aboot the braes
And pu'd the gowans fine.
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne,
We've wandered mony a weary foot,
Sin' auld ang syne.

We twa hae sported i' the burn,
From morning sun till dine,
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.
Sin' auld lang syne, my dear,
Sin' auld lang syne.
But seas between us braid hae roared
Sin' auld lang syne.

And ther's a hand, my trusty friend,
And gie's a hand o' thine;
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.

Clean Coffee, Extreme

Today I drank a sustainably grown, organic, fair trade, sustainably ground and sanely brewed cup of gourmet coffee.

I think I may have saved an entire square meter of polar ice from premature melt all by myself.

A combination of comments on other blogs -- both by me and other bloggers -- lead to this simultaneously cool and revolting turn of events.

First, playing me-too to GreenLaGirl's Starbucks Challenge reawakened my awareness of Fair Trade certified coffee and the value in not turning to an exploitative commodity for my middle-class American daily coffee fix. Indeed, because of the zealousness with which I joined the challenge game, GLG and CityHippy rewarded me with a package of Monkey & Son fair trade certified, organic certified, whole bean coffee.

This was very cool, because I had exchanged emails with the Monkey and had meant to come try a sample, but never did. Of course, as good coffee should, this arrived as whole bean coffee, which left a new dilema -- how to render it brewable.

Next, since the cool prize arrived last week, just at the height of pre-solstice/Christmas madness, it sat a few days to be admired -- and pondered -- as I set about finding a way to grind it. (We grind ours at the store, usually, and use it in a few days.)

I considering digging out the electric "spice mill and coffee grinder" I'd had for years, but I could hear the echo of some forgotten coffee gourmet scoffing about "chopped coffee" versus truly "ground" coffee, and the distinct superiority of the latter. Since my "spice mill" was, clearly, a simple whirling blade in a container, I could not, as my first choice, lower myself to drink chopped coffee. My second choice, the use of the amusing "magic bullet" mini-blender received as a wedding gift was no better. Another classless bean chopper!

(As an aside, the Bullet makes a sublime, quick, smoothie out of frozen fruit, milk and honey. A smoothie is just viciously chopped fruit and ice and does not need to be ground.)

Then, of course, I had been blogging over on Easy Green about electric appliances and how some were excessively juice-eating when a non-electric alternative was usually available. There was another strike against both mill and bullet.

Then I remembered that I had a hand-cranked coffee grinder from my Stepmother's recent return to her native England, a heavy, hand cranked iron device, that slowly slid the beans down a giant screw until each bean was pressed between counter-rotating ribbed steal plates, to emerge as lovely, truly ground coffee on the bottom.

Now this was not one of those dorky decorative faux antique coffee mills. This was the real deal, a serious kitchen tool, with three bolt-holes to bolt it to the wall for heavy duty and daily use, or a removable clamp to temporarily screw it down to the table top.

Just for fun, I went on the web to find a cool picture and discovered that these mills are coveted and ebayed like crazy -- in Australia and New Zealand (!) and the following additional history, according to the folks at www.coffeehouseinc.com:

"James Osborne Spong started a small family business in 1856 in London, England to make economic household utensils. His coffee grinders have changed design very little since the beginning as he found no improvements necessary."

Mine appears to be from modern production, due to having a red plastic hand grip not wood, but otherwise looks pretty well identical to the one shown here. There is a LOT of interesting coffee mill and coffee history at this collectors' site.

In any case, I clamped the ol' Spong Mill to the table, filled it with beans, and "gave the crank a whickity wank" as the song says.

Et viola, hand-ground, Fair Trade, Organic coffee.

Not only actually ground, but ground without all that coal-based electricity they sell us here in Pasadena. (And who wants coal-based electricity in their coffee, hmmm?)

The next amusing coincidence came about in that my In-Laws gave me my very own French press for Christmas. Mom-I.L. had been reading this space or the SBX, Fairtrade & Me blog about my adventures trying to get French pressed coffee. Now, all that time I was not looking for French Pressed coffee per se -- it seems too strong to me when the Starbucks crowed makes it -- rather I was looking for the right answer on their willingness to press Fair Trade coffee, without prompting.

Still, truth be told, I had wanted a French press for home, but could not justify it with a new-ish Mr. Coffee gleaming on the counter top.

Still, too, back at Easy Green, I had griped particularly that my plain Mr. Coffee draws 900 watts of power, sucking up some 1.8 kWh when left idling for the preset auto-warm designation. Now, once again I say, who wants coal-fired coffee?

I was also feeling a little guilty that ArdentEden gave me part credit for causing her to feel terrible guilt when she used her coffee maker, yet I had not yet given up my own electricity-sucking devil even as I had named it demon.

Unfortunately for us, most of our electricity falls from the sky, and is sustainably grabbed up by our solar cells. The rest, if there is any that the sun doesn't supply, comes from Green Power, which in this case is wind-generated power supplied by the city.

So sometimes I feel we can afford to be a little cavalier in our use of electricity, what with most falling, free, from the sun and the rest coming cleanly from the wind. But since we want to try to come in at 100% solar, net for the year by April 7, and we have added both forced-air heat and central air conditioning since the solar install, I'll take the potential 300 or so kWh a daily cup of coffee would cost and save it, thank you.

So, out comes the the cool new French press.

Of course, I still boiled the water on a gas stove -- I joked that I was going to boil the water by burning recycled paper grocery sacks, but nobody laughed. At first I thought it might have been that I was being ridiculous because the gas stove was perfectly workable; now I'm not sure that I didn't get a polite laugh because it was obvious that the green house gases and particulate matter generated by a grocery bag fire would be far worse than burning a little natural gas. Sigh. Like anything, fundamentalism just leads to absurdities.

But there it is, Ladies and Gentlemen: The Sustainable Cup of Coffee (more or less).

Fair Trade, Organic, Hand Ground, French Press brewed. With just a nibble of Trader Joe's Fair Trade, Organic extra dark chocolate on the side. Mmmmm mmmm. Good Monkey.

The coffee itself: Next Entry.

Wherein we wonder why all FT coffee we have tasted so far has similar bright overtones, but not the deep, rich mellowness of say the TJ house brand Organic . . . curiouser and curiouser!

Lights & the Season

T he light is special this time of year.

Seems that, no matter where you are, the brief, bright winter light has an impact on people -- around the globe and down through the ages.

This winter has been dry and bright and cold for Southern California, but even without the gloom of rainclouds it gets dark pretty early.

I've been noticing the light a great deal this year. The track of the noontime sun changes from a 45 degree elevation across the southern sky, to a 90 degree overhead-noon in summer. This affects our comfort, and our electric bill, as the lower winter angle generates more power from our solar cells while the higher summer one is a longer trek, and hotter.

I am trying to grow some winter salads, too, but it has been cold enough at night, with a couple of soft freezes, that the salad patch is not doing so well. I blame the low light.

The broccoli and garlic and shallots, planted three feet from a heat-and-light reflecting southern wall, are doing well.

As a "farmer" and a user of solar energy, I am more keenly aware of the light than ever, although I have always been partial to indoor light less harsh than the average Edison-bulb.

Dimmer switches, candles and oil lamps usually cover my house; I lived in gleeful anticipation of power outages, just to have an excuse to fire up the candles and the oil lamps. What a beautiful, relaxed glow they provide for light.

Some mornings, when I am up before everyone, I need to see in the dinning room area but do not want to turn on the bright overhead light. Our 1903 house has the bedrooms directly connected to the dining area, so I risk waking the big kids, the wife and the baby. So I have been known to light an oil lamp -- just one, because more would be too bright(!) -- and pad around in the glow preparing for school or Saturday chores, or, with a certain deliberate irony, reading the newspaper online before it has washed up on our front porch.

We will note and celebrate the Winter Solstice this year, December 21 or so each winter season. Contrary to what some calendars might say, it is not the First Day of Winter, merely the moment when the sun reaches its shortest appearance in the daytime sky, shudders to a halt, and begins to lengthen, again, the time it spends warming my broccoli plants.

That's right. Everyday from the solstice on is a bit longer than the day before. Just like the Summer Solstice marks the longest day of the year in June, and two days later it is "Midsummer" of A Midsummer Night's Dream fame, the Winter Solstice marks the half-way point.

In ancient Celtic traditions, Midwinter marked a mythical battle between the Holly and the Oak, won each year by the Oak, the bringer of spring and the green.

We will note and celebrate the Winter Solstice this year, with a bonfire in the yard. The ancients marked the return of the sun with fire, some say calling the sun to return. (And what do you know, the sun always answered the call!) The cycles of the sun, more so than ever, seem important to our household -- notwithstanding that most of the rest of our modern culture is unaware of its importance.

Amusingly, the light-festivals of the ancient cultures can be seen all around us, and all cluster at this, the darkest time of year:

The Jewish "Festival of Lights," Chanukah, falls in winter months; Hindus celebrate Dipavali (Diwali and Depawali) in November, again "The Festival of Lights", Swedes celebrate St.Lucia Day on December 13, again, a festival of lights; Ramadan for Muslims falls in the winter space, as does the previously noted Bodhi Day, a day not of lights, but enlightenment and awakening. Kwanza, a modern invention, involves candles and the winter dark time. Modern Christians, and the secular Christmas-ians, celebrate with lights on houses and trees, even, in recent times, invoking the older phrase Festival of Lights frequently.

The light is special this time of year.

Enlightenment

Today, December 8, is Bodhi day. This is the day traditionally marked by Buddhists as the day Shakyamuni, Prince Sidartha, gained enlightenment sitting under the pipala or fig tree. The teachings of the Buddha or "enlightened one" are well documented easily available on the web; in the end the teachings offer an end to human suffering through enlightenment -- clear awareness about the nature of things, the interconnectedness of all beings and things, and the cessation of suffering through release of greed and grasping.

The folks debating whether stores should announce "Merry Christmas" or "Happy Holidays" miss the point. They would do well to leave off the debate and focus on becoming the pillar of brotherly love, acceptance and non-judgment that their Jesus worked to be; the debater's would do well to head the Buddha's comment on organized religion that it is important to remember that "the finger pointing at the moon is not the moon."

Christ's Mass is just a finger, pointing, for Christians to the ultimate goals of that faith. It is not salvation itself, nor is a magical phrase the key to a good and holy life.

On this Bodhi day, whatever your religious affiliation or none, may you live this day with greater awareness, open to the interconnection and interdependence of all sentient beings, and the causes of suffering in ourselves and others.

The Eensy Weensy Cider: One Gallon of Oak Glen Blend Into the Bottle, Heigh Ho!

Six bottles of hard cider bottled and capped from our gallon of Oak Glen cider tonight. The natural yeast just wasn't robust enough, so we added a tiny dollop of English Cider Yeast, and it went to town.

Going into the bottle the cider was very clear and still, after only two re-rackings, so after after a little goose to get the cider to work in the bottle and produce carbonation, into the bottles it went.

This Oak Glen blend was also a little thin on flavor, and tasting like it would be more dry than sweet. Since the cider had only about 8% potential alcohol based on initial sugar -- and we didn't add any sugar -- that makes perfect sense.

Since six bottles of cider is hardly enough for us, we also put down the wedding cider today.

At our wedding we had Trader Joe's unfiltered cider as one of the main libations, and we happened to have six gallons left over after the event. Since our basic corboy holds five gallons with one in reserve for topping up, we have had the cider in storage since the wedding.

A couple of days ago we dumped it all into the big fermentation bottle, along with the rest of the English cider yeast, and let it roll. It is in the "boiling over" stage now, where the yeast eats and eats and eats the cider sugar, and the cider bubbles and foams almost as if it were in a pot on the stove.

There's a good head of foam on the top, and the fermentation lock is going "blurp . . . blurp . . . blurp" just about as fast as you can read this. In a bit we will rerack it to get it off the sediment, and then watch for bottling day to announce itself by slow fermentation.

Funny, but this is the first time we have hardened-up store bought cider, and did so only because we like the TJ cider well enough. Every other year we pressed our own raw cider, and if we did not have enough cider to put down -- or didn't press -- then we had none hard for the spring.

Leslie and I were laughing at ourselves, betting how long we could hold out before we have to crack the first bottle. She thinks we lasted six weeks last time, but that the five gallons we put down was gone by week 16 or so.

I said that if the store bought hardened-up any good, that we would have to put more down almost immediately upon opening the first bottle. I have this fantasy that we could put enough cider down cycle after cycle to not have to suffer being out of cider for any length of time. (Grin.)