Traditional Foods Cookbook backup.indd

Nay’dini’aa Na’
Tra d i t i o n al & C o n t e m p o ra r y
Re g i o n a l Fo o d s
Ya Ne Dah Ah School
Fish Camp 2004
Table Of Contents
Title Page ......................
1
Austin Ahmasuk Introduction .......................................................................................................................7
Boiled Meat...................
8
Dried Meat ...................
9
Seal & Walrus Hunting ...............................................................................................................................10
Dried Seal Meat ..........
13
Seal Oil .......................
14
Aged Flipper................
15
Dry Fish ......................
15
Frozen Foods ...............
16
Egging .........................
17
Agutaq (Eskimo Ice Cream) ........................................................................................................................18
Dog Food ....................
19
Emily Mendell ...........
21
Supermarket Forest Introduction .................................................................................................................23
Do What You Can ......
30
Sourdough ..................
31
Garlic-Lover’s Halibut Pizza ........................................................................................................................34
Fiddleheads .................
36
Sugar Swollen Ants ......
38
Witch Picker ...............
40
Austin Ahmasuk
Austin Ahmasuk
I was born to Harold and Janet Ahmasuk on July 7, 1972 in Nome, Alaska. Nome is a community
of around 3000 and experiences fairly long periods of winter (October to May) and relatively short periods
of summer (June to September). Consumer goods are rather expensive, and living off of the land or at least
amassing some foods from the land and sea is good for daily nutrition and graciously supplements expensive
grocery items. When I was growing up, both of my parents worked until my early teenage years. My father
worked as a Heavy Equipment Operator with the State of Alaska for thirty years, and my mother worked as a
Medical Technologist with Norton Sound Health Corporation for 25 years. Understanding and utilizing the
resources of the land and sea was taught to me from a very early age. If not for living a healthy subsistence
life, it taught me many character values that portray the traditional Native lifestyle. Nearly the whole gamut
of subsistence activities were taught to me as a young boy. For many of my early years as a young person I
primarily listened and watched “how” to do things. Later on as it became apparent that I was probably learning
the technical skills, I was given the opportunity to try a few things so that I may really know “how”. As I tried
a few things, some other things were taught to me, maybe an old story or some other experience to “add” to
my learning and technical skills. Most of what I learned about hunting and fishing are modern adaptations to
old ways of doing things. Some methods of subsistence living are virtually unchanged. Many things now do
not look like how they might have several hundred years ago. Aside from the superficial differences there is
something there that makes it Native. When we get an animal it is usually a communal effort, if not the effort
of at least several people. In hunting the big animals like walrus, seal, moose, I hunt with other people. All of
us, whether it’s a couple or several, all equally get the animal. Sure, someone owns the boat, or other vehicle, but
it is done with the efforts of more than one that enables a hunt to be successful. Overall, I believe Native foods
are the most healthy and with my cultural heritage, I enjoy a connection to the environment that runs deep
in my character and is a meaningful
historic lifeway that continues in me.
I eat of the land or sea quite
often, the main daily traditional
food items are seal and fish. Most of
our traditional food items are rather
simple to prepare. In explaining our
traditional foods I will start with
simple food recipes and then end with
some of the more complicated ones.
The Ahmasuk family is originally from
Wales, Alaska at the western tip of the
Seward Peninsula, and so the food
preparation methods I will share are
mostly representative of the modern
Wales diet. People from Wales are
called “kifikmiut” and several
families from Wales moved to Nome
during the mid-1940’s to seek wage-earning employment. It is very likely, and certainly can be related to some of
our stories, that the “kifikmiut” people knew and commingled with people of the greater Nome area well before
written history, and so this area was not foreign to us, and in fact family relations existed that are well known.
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Boiled Meat
Seal, moose, caribou, bear, whale, walrus, beaver, porcupine, birds, fish, shellfish, etc.
The first traditional food preparation method I should share is the most simple cooking method and that
would be boiled meat. Many an “ieupiaq” meal has been the old reliable simple pot of boiled meat. Not just
meat but other animal organs, that with minor extra
food items such as greens, and/or seaweed, makes a
fine stew. By other animal organs I mean the heart,
liver, kidneys, intestines, tongue, skin, blubber, etc.
Quite often these boiled meat parts are simply taken
out of the pot and eaten with other food items, fresh
greens, greens stored in seal oil, or other aged foods.
The leftover broth is also another food item and,
historically, was a breakfast food. The broth from last
night’s meal would serve as the next day’s breakfast
for a hunter. Of all the traditional food preparation
methods boiling meat is likely the one that persists
everywhere most of the time, and a simple offshoot is
the stew. The red meat, heart, and tongue of moose
or caribou is generally made into a stew for which the
modern, most basic stew, would have onions, noodles,
rice and some spices. Historically, it likely would have
had some greens, wild chives, and some sea salt as a
spice. Seal meat and organs are generally not made
into a stew, and usually comprise a pot of water and the internal organs of the animal such as red meat, heart,
liver, kidneys, blubber, and intestines that is cooked to boiled, generally to rare. The meaty stuff is taken out and
eaten as is, after which the broth, which looks a lot like miso soup with curdled blood, is eaten. Fish is cooked
in this way as well: the meat taken out, perhaps eaten with greens stored in seal oil or other aged foods, and after
which the broth again resembling miso soup with curdled blood, is eaten. Shellfish such as crab and clams are
also boiled but for only some moments. Crab and other shellfish are placed into boiling water for approximately
5 minutes and then taken out so as not to be overcooked. In the case of crab the whole animal is placed in
the boiling water, and most of the animal is eaten, including the innards which when left within the carapace
makes a natural kind of bowl, and sipped like soup. Fish and shellfish should not be overcooked, it is better to
cook them on the rare side if at all possible, or they may become dried out and not taste as good. Historically,
throughout most of the winter months, boiling meat was the primary food preparation method. A coarse read
might indicate that with a diet high in mostly meat that some dietary problems may arise. What we should keep
in mind is that usually the entire animal is eaten and little of the animal is wasted. The other organs would have
provided the necessary nutrients to maintain health. So without a doubt a diet high in red meat is successful,
and, of course, has proven itself over time but involved consumption of other bodily organs. Aside from the
unique animals of the sub-arctic this method is well-known worldwide and is the most basic food preparation
method.
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Dried Meat
Dried Moose, Caribou, Reindeer Meat, Seal, and Fat
Moose, caribou and reindeer meat and fat can all be dried in the same manner. It is basically the same as
drying seal meat although the consistency of the meat is different, but the process is the same. The animals are
taken apart. Here is an important aspect, well, I think important. When we take apart animals after killing them
we only use a knife. We have an extensive knowledge of their anatomy, and all the joints and places where they
can be taken apart we take them apart. Where other hunters use saws, or hatchets we do not need them. After
they are dressed the quarters are processed for drying, as with seal meat, all sinews, membranes and such are
removed so the dried meat is not hard to chew after being dried. Well, that is about it, pretty simple. The rump
meat is most devoid of sinews and other membranes and generally makes good dried meat.
The fat is dried for use as several
food items. The fat in the rump and
surrounding the paunch, intestines, etc.
is usually taken for that matter. The
fat is simply removed from those areas
and hung somewhere to dry. It does
not take long for it to dry. The dried
fat can be eaten as is, and is generally
taken with hunters as a snack item.
Sometimes that is all I will take when
hunting, moose fat, just cut off a piece
like a hunk a cheese and keep going.
The other thing dried fat is used
for is a specialty, and my most favorite
food item of all. The highest culmination of effort brings about the next food item: Eskimo Ice cream as it
is called by various types are called different things, “agutaq”, “agutuq”, “qamaamaq”, and others. Eskimo Ice
Cream is the ultimate winter-time food for out on the trail. It can be eaten frozen, put in a container thrown in
the sled, taken out when needed, all hunters can dip from it for sustenance and is very filling, very healthy and
the ultimate survival food. I am really partial to Eskimo Ice Cream, and will explain it as best I can, like I say it
is the ultimate food item, part dessert, part hardy meal, part survival food, all Eskimo, and is made from food
items that a person has to collect throughout the year. Essentially it takes all year to make, but can be made in
an hour or two.
This food preparation method is quite simple, although we are starting to get a little more specialized in
preparation methods now. I say simple only after it is assumed you have the seal in hand ready to be prepared.
Generally men hunt for marine mammals due to the very physical nature of it, lifting and working with heavy
items not mention animals, cold, seafaring ability, mechanical ability in case motor goes haywire, and all that
stuff. “Black meat” it is popularly called because it actually turns black after being dried. There is quite a bit
of skill to making black meat, although it is simply air dried on drying racks outdoors in the spring air of May.
May is when my people generally focus on marine mammal hunting, during which time we will amass large
quantities of meat.
Page 9
After you get a seal, it could be any seal, but generally the species is ringed seal and bearded seal.
Actually I have never made black meat from any other species except ring or bearded seal. The reason for that is
simple, bearded and ring seal are the most common in this neck of the woods. A bearded seal weighs in at about
700-1000 pounds; females can be quite large towards the 1000 pound mark. The blubber weight makes the
difference. They tend to pack it on towards spring (March, during pupping). A ring seal weighs in at around
300 pounds max, they are usually a little smaller averaging about 150-250. Ring seal during about May to June
go through a molt and we call them “tiqag”. The anglicized translation is “gassy seal” as during this time their
meat smells exactly like gasoline, it is safe to eat and is NOT gasoline or any petrol chemical, but in fact their
musk. It is very strong and their meat at this time is avoided for human consumption. We are able to identify
those animals by their face coloration. It takes many years observing seals and teachings from elders to diagnose
a gassy seal so that you can avoid killing them for human consumption, although for dog feed that is not a
concern. Bearded seal go through molts as well but the musk is not as bad.
Black meat is a very common food item that many people make. The complications of making this food
are not in the drying but the cutting and preparation before drying. The quarters and hams are dried generally
in slabs one-half to one inch thick, or in strips of the same thickness. The bones of the quarters are removed
except when we intend to make half dried meat (angimaaq) from the quarters; a later story. Care is taken to
remove all sinews and membranes from all meat so as not to have a hard time chewing after being dried.
The ham, at least what I call the ham (back strap, seal equivalent to rump), is generally absent of large
sinew groups and so the meat there is easily cut up for drying. The front quarters after being removed from the
adjacent rib cage leaves a sizable portion of meat on the rib cages. This meat from the ribs is cut from the rib in
one large slab and then cut up for drying. The ribs too are dried in much the same manner, the meat between
ribs is sliced lengthwise with the rib and hung to dry entire with rib bones attached. From one bearded seal it is
expected that a person is able to dry from 150 to 200 pounds of meat (wet weight). Some people like to dry the
black meat hard and others dry it soft. The meat after being dried is stored in a mixture of seal oil and blubber
and frozen for later use. Even if the meat is dried hard it can be made soft by storing in seal oil. Generally it
takes some months to soften up black meat that has been overly dried, but rest assured it will soften up a little.
Dried meat in many forms exist, although my people, being coastal Eskimos, made it a point to make this food
item as we are mostly dependent on marine mammals for most of our food items.
Seal & Walrus Hunting
Perhaps under this category I should explain a little about seal hunting. I grew up seal hunting, and don’t
remember the first time I went. It was likely before I became aware of the world around me. Seal hunting is a
year-round activity, the summer time is when we try to avoid gassy seals
(molting ring seals). During the winter we hunt seals from the ice. In
the spring we hunt seals from the open ocean in skiffs. There are many
things to know about ice-edge seal hunting. For one thing it can be quite
dangerous and sometimes downright nerve-racking, walking and traveling
on thin moving ice. I have to say that I have learned from many traditional
experts the things a person should know to stay alive on the ocean ice,
and that is whole other story. Women do go seal hunting once in a while
but it usually takes just one trip to convince them otherwise. During the
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winter, seal hunting is largely a solitary activity without too much group
involvement. There is a whole lot to say about seal hunting that I can not
say in just the few minutes. I will take to explain some of it, it is just too
exhaustive a subject. Ice seals (bearded, ring, ribbon, and spotted) keep
holes in the ocean ice open all winter. They do this to forage for food under
the ice, and to keep warm, as the air temperature during this time of year
generally is colder than sea temperature. But on a warm day it may be seals
are likely on top of the ice, basking. Seals are generally hard to approach
while on top of the ice, but with patience it can be done. Sleeping seals as
they are called, are stalked to within shooting distance and then killed. Very exact shot placement is sought or
you risk losing the animal. What they do while on top of the ice is position their head to their hole or the ice
edge, and at the slightest twitch they can enter the water and escape their predator. So we always seek a head
shot; no other shot is taken as any other shot means they will live long enough to escape into the water. Another
seal hunting method during winter is ice edge seal hunting. We travel to the edge of shore-fast ice and wait for
seals to swim near us. They too are shot in the head as that is the only shot that is offered they swim with their
head out of the water. We usually use small caliber rifles like .22 rimfire, .222, or .223. When they are killed
we can retrieve them via several methods. A lot of hunters will bring a small scow along with them and use that
Page 11
for retrieving seals shot from the ice edge, while other folks will use what we call iijqaq “seal retrieval hook”. An
iijqaq is a floating hook that can be hurled just beyond the seal, snag it and then haul it in. Generally though,
a person can only retrieve seals in that manner that are within 100 yards. Seal hunting during the winter around
Nome is usually focused on one species the ring seal as other species usually vacate shore-fast regions.
In the spring hunting crews generally concentrate on another seal, the ugruk or bearded seal, the largest
of all ice seals about 700-1000 pounds. Those seals during the spring generally endure migrations north with
the retreating ice and they become available in larger numbers than any other time of year. These larger seals
are hunted in a little different manner, and is a usually group activity. Captains summon crews of about 3 to 4
to go spring-time boating and utilize 18 foot boats and around 30 to 50 HP motors. Generally the crew is an
extended family who may have hunted together for 60 to 70 years with younger members constantly recruited
in as older men retire and welcome in the younger generation. Our family works together during spring by
summoning 3 or 4 of our family or extended family with my father serving as captain. It is said that one can not
learn what Eskimos need to know by asking or talking, only watching and doing and that is how I learned; never
ask questions, just watch and do. Now I know what I need to and the questions I used to have were answered
in time without ever asking. But now that more captains are speaking English, my father no longer will speak in
his native tongue with anybody who would understand him. Bearded seals are generally preferred during spring
for their large size and amount of blubber. They are hunted from boats as I said, but what is different is they
are rather wary animals and generally don’t float. So harpoons are used in conjunction with rifles. A person can
hunt bearded seals without rifles, but most will
use them for the final kill. Bearded seals can be
stalked while on top of the ice from the water
and that is the preferred method as you don’t
have to use harpoons then or drag them back
on top of the ice to be butchered. It takes many
years to distinguish the different seals from the
water or on top of the ice, let alone spot them
from distant ice flows. There is also an element
of marksmanship involved; remember we go for
head shots whether on top of ice or in the water.
The third seal, the walrus is the other
member of the seal family we hunt. Those are
much larger than bearded seal they weigh from 2000 - 4000 pounds depending upon age and sex, there is some
sexual dimorphism. They are huge dangerous animals with strong maternal and herd instincts. These animals
are sought generally after a crew has harvested enough ugruk. After enough ugruk are harvested crews may focus
attention on locating walrus by observing where distant ice flows are. An reliable method of knowing where ice
is located when it can not be seen from shore is to observe the haze upon the horizon, or being observant in the
morning hours when the effects of mirage will show the presence of ice. Clouds adequately reflect ground colors
at certain times and so another method that has allowed people from shore to determine the location of ice when
it can not be seen from shore, simply clouds will reflect light and dark colors, and so the underside if it is bright
white out on the ocean, will reflect the ice below it. Again it depends upon the type of cloud. Climbing above
sea level also naturally allows a person to see where ice may be located. From shore it is said a person should
be able to see 20 or so miles before sea level objects disappear beyond the horizon. Now days folks may look
to the National Weather Service for ice coverage but that method means you must be near a computer and I
Page 12
do not prefer it. It simply is not necessary, the old methods work just fine and are highly effective. Walrus are
tough animals and usually shot with centerfire rifles. Although many hunters will use the .222 or .223 as I do
for its low cost ammunition and universal shell availability. When using the smaller caliber rounds a person must
make good shot placement so as to kill the walrus as quickly as possible, the strong maternal and herd instincts
of walrus may mean animals become struck and lost. They too must be harpooned if taken in the water as they
generally do not float. Walrus can be heard for many miles, and prefer certain ice types to haul out on, and there
are other natural occurrences that tip off captains that walrus are present, such as the presence of the northern
fulmar, or what is locally called the walrus bird. One walrus provides lots of meat and blubber, so one walrus is
quite a bit to haul back to shore. Walrus also generally are far from Nome’s shore during spring so longer boat
trips are required.
Dried Seal Meat
This food preparation method is quite simple although is a little more specialized in preparation, I say
simple only after it is assumed you have the seal in hand ready to be prepared. Generally men folk hunt for
marine mammals due to the very physical nature of it, lifting and working with heavy items, cold, sea faring
ability, mechanical ability in case motor goes haywire, etc., etc. “black meat” as it is popularly called actually
turns black after being dried. Seal meat itself is quite dark, not sure exactly why it is so dark, but it is naturally
high in iron, maybe that is why it is so dark. There is a fair bit of skill to making black meat although it is
simply air dried on drying racks outdoors generally in the spring air of May. May is when my people generally
focus on marine mammal hunting, during which time we will amass large quantities of meat. After you get a
seal it could be any seal, but generally the species is ringed seal and bearded seal. Actually I have never made
black meat from any other species except ring or bearded seal. The reason for that is simple, bearded and ring
seal are the most common in this neck of the woods. A bearded seal may weigh 700-1000 pounds, females
can be quite large towards the 1000 pound mark the blubber weight seems to makes the difference as they will
tend to pack it on towards spring (March, during pupping). A ring seal weighs in at around 300 pounds max
generally though they are a little smaller averaging about 150-250. During May to June ring seals go through a
molt and we call those type tigaq, the anglicised translation is “gassy seal” as during this time their meat smells
exactly like gasoline, it is safe to eat and is NOT gasoline or any petro chemical but in fact their musk and is
very strong and their meat at this time is avoided for human consumption. We are able to identify those animals
by their face coloration and it takes some years observing seals and teachings from old timers to diagnose a gassy
seal so that you can avoid killing them for human consumption although for dog feed that is not a concern.
Bearded seal go through molts as well but the musk is not bad. Black meat is a very common food item that
many people make.
The complications of making this food is not in the drying but the cutting and preparation before drying.
The quarters and hams are dried generally in slabs one-half to one inch thick or in strips of the same thickness
the bones of the quarters are removed except when we intend to make half dried meat (afimaaq). Care is taken
to remove all sinews and membranes from all meat so as not to have a hard time chewing after being dried. The
ham at least what I call the ham or backstrap (seal equivalent to rump) is generally absent of large sinew groups
and so the meat there is easily cut up for drying. The front quarters after being removed from the adjacent rib
cage leaves a sizable portion of meat on the rib cages, this meat from the ribs is cut from the rib in one large slab
and then cut up for drying. The ribs too are dried in much the same manner, the meat between ribs is sliced
lengthwise with the rib and hung to dry entire with rib bones attached. From one bearded seal it is expected that
a person is able to dry from 150 to 200 pounds of meat (dry weight). After it is dried there is some variation
Page 13
between persons and their likes. Some people like to dry hard and others dry the black meat soft. Generally
though the meat after dried is stored in a mixture of seal oil and blubber and frozen for later use. Even if the
meat is dried hard it can be made soft again by storing it in seal oil which generally takes some months to soften
up; black meat that has been overly dried rest assured it will soften up a little. Dried meat in many forms exist
although my people being coastal eskimos made it a point to make this food item as we are generally most
dependent on marine mammals for most of our food items.
Seal Oil
or seal oil is made from the blubber of seals any seal with blubber can make or render mizibaaq.
Mizibaaq renders at room temperature even below room temperature. As an unsaturated oil it may be high in
omega 3 fatty acids. Mizibaaq will coagulate at about freezing and a little above freezing will go liquid again.
It has the color of corn oil. OK, how do you make it? The blubber is cut from the seal’s skin, generally a seal
is insulated with several inches of blubber, the blubber is fleshed from the skin after the hide has been removed,
being fleshed off generally with an ulu. When I do not intend to save the hide I can quickly use a butcher-type
knife with great efficiency by cutting the hide into strips a foot to half a foot wide and then run my knife in
one fell swoop along the hide and remove the blubber, that method is a quick and dirty one but is not favored.
The blubber is then cut into small strips and placed in a container of some sort. Now this is where is gets tricky
and where one CAN NOT deviate from traditional preparation methods or you risk becoming very sick or
even dying. After the blubber strips are placed in a container one must ensure that the blubber can “breathe”.
traditionally the hide of the seal was saved and used as the container. The leather allowed the “breathing” to
occur. Now days we use plastic containers or other similar type containers and that is fine as long as you allow
for air reaching the blubber mixture. As blubber renders if not allowed to “breathe” aneorobic bacteria such
as botulism can set in and grow. Botulism deaths in Alaska are probably higher than normal (don’t know for
sure) but many botulism deaths are attributable to other foods as well, not just Native foods. The container
of blubber should be placed in a cool place, not hot place, to render which generally takes several weeks, large
amounts can be made during that time, and in the old days was used rather heavily for eating and also home
heating, seal oil lamps provided light and heat in old-time houses (sod houses)
Mizibaaq
Food items can be stored in seal oil, and that is another and primary use of seal oil, for storage of food.
We did not have any of the canning methods we have now days and our people had to devise some sort of
method to store the summer’s bounty, like greens, dried fish and meat, etc. By placing food items in seal oil,
which is an effective natural preservative, foods could be gathered during summer, like the ones I mentioned,
and saved for a later consumption. Seal oil was so important to our lives that without it, it is likely that our
struggle for survival would mean starvation without it. It is relatively easy to make once the animal which
provides mizibaaq is in hand. Over the many generations our people have become specialized in seal behavior,
killing methods and seafaring traditions as the sea and sea mammals are a key component of our culture. Long
ago many people died in the pursuit of sea mammals like seal, whale, walrus, polar bear and others. From that
hard life now exists many long-standing cultural traditions that have not changed much, the use of harpoon,
traditional hunting methods and stories that serve as educational tools, are sustenance for the continuance of sea
mammal hunting.
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Aged Flipper
The flipper of bearded seal, or walrus, is utilized for aging purposes. I imagine that just about any flipper
could be aged, whether its a whale flipper, spotted seal flipper, but in my area we generally age the flippers
of walrus and bearded seal. We call aged flipper “ushaq”. The method is quite simple, you simply cut the
flippers off at the wrist or ankle, whichever end the flipper came from, and then place the flipper under a layer
of blubber to age. The flippers are placed in some sort of container and then the blubber layer is placed on top
of the flippers. Here is a very important point, the container must be covered loosely, so that what’s inside can
breathe, or you risk becoming very sick or dying from botulism poisoning. As long as you ensure that there is
air reaching the blubber, there should not be a problem. Generally the flippers are placed in a cool, not cold,
place in order to age such as underground, but shallow underground place, not deep underground place or it
will take longer to age. This aging process lasts a month generally, or few weeks depending on the temperature.
The flippers will lose their hair when they are ready for eating, i.e. the hair will slip. The flippers may be cooked
or eaten raw. I prefer either method cooked or raw. Either way the smell lasts on your body (hands) for several
days.
Dry Fish
The ever present, ever common dry fish,
probably made by every Native group in Alaska.
I am sure a person will find and discover other
methods of drying fish, they are most likely very
similar. It seems the main differences are in the
subspecies, different salmon or other fish have
different tastes and differing amounts of oil present
in the flesh. For instance, fish from the Yukon and
Kuskowkim rivers have rather oily flesh whereas
salmon in the Nome sub-district are rather dry,
with less oil. I do not think our method is a lot
different than other Native groups. A person can dry any type of fish, but some species have specific methods. I
will explain a couple that are most common for me. First salmon.
A salmon is prepared for drying by filleting the fish in two
halves separating the vertebrae from the flesh. A cut is made just in
front of the pectoral fins near the head so as to remove the head. Then
a cut is made down the belly on either side of the anal fin removing
the anal fin from the fish. The innards are removed, if a female the
eggs are saved for later consumption. If a male the innards are usually
tossed into the stream. The innards may be saved for dog feed, the
kidney or blood pocket does not have to be cut out since the vertebrae
is separated from the flesh. The vertebrae can be dried and was usually
used for dog feed. Dried salmon were very important for feeding
a dog team, with the comfort of fishing for salmon, great numbers
could be caught to feed a dog team. Some old-time dog mushers
Page 15
called dogs or dog teams “fish burners”, an apt
term since many dog teams were primarily fed
dried salmon. After cutting down the belly
and removing the innards, the flesh is cut from
the vertebrae by filleting one side and then the
other. After some experience a person should
be able to fillet a salmon removing flesh and
leaving little meat on the vertebrae. After a
few fish the cutting table will become quite
slimy, and to avoid the slippery situation and
make cutting easier, people have evolved several
methods to keep the fish from slipping around
but are all basically the same. A person can
simply lay beachgrass on the cutting table and
the slipping and sliding is eliminated. Additionally a person can use an old gunny sack with the same effect. The
vertebrae is then cut from the fillets, leaving the two fillets connected at the tail. After which slits are made in
the flesh to aid in drying and later eating. Small fish like trout are filleted but no slits are made in the flesh since
their flesh will over-dry very quickly. The fillets are then usually rinsed and then hung to dry. At first the fish are
hung with flesh side in, and after a crust is present, the fish are turned flesh side out. In about a week and a half
the fish are dry enough to put away. Several methods exist to store them: they will keep for quite a while as is,
and generally are bundled in bundles of twenty or so and put in a meat shed or similar place for the winter. They
can also be stored in seal oil as well.
In our area another fish that is dried is the tomcod, it is much more simple to dry this little fish. During
the fall folks will generally amass large quantities of tomcod either by net or hooking through the ice. Tomcod
generally spawn in the fall in very large quantities in many estuaries or near shore. Very quickly many tomcod
can be caught by either method. Tomcod are simply gutted, and then hung on string as bundles. Generally
tomcod are harvested in the fall, and are dried in the Fall air. They can be stored as a bundle or may be stored in
seal oil as well.
Frozen Foods
Seal, moose, caribou, fish, shellfish
Perhaps you have heard the derivation of the word
Eskimo; an Algonquin word meaning “eaters of raw meat”.
Under this category we aptly fit that definition; under
another category of raw and aged, I will get into more
raw foods that are eaten raw, but not frozen. The above
species are eaten frozen although only the red meat and
liver is eaten frozen; the other bodily organs are generally
not, as some issues of internal parasites should be avoided.
Seal red meat and seal liver is eaten frozen, usually with other food items such as seal oil or greens. Moose and
caribou red meat is eaten frozen, again usually with seal oil; moose and caribou meat is generally very lean when
compared to beef. Fish and shellfish are also eaten frozen, again generally with seal oil.
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To freeze foods, all one needs to do is first catch the fish or animal and then simply freeze it or the
portions you want to eat. Frozen fish has been a LONG time favorite that is quite easily prepared. Usually just
the meat, eggs, or liver is eaten when frozen, as parasites generally inhabit the other body organs and is saved for
dog food. Shellfish, such as crab is eaten frozen, again with the ever-present seal oil. Frozen crab (king crab) is
a little salty when eaten in this manner, but is quite good. Fish and shellfish are frozen in the whole, and later
slightly thawed so that they can be cut up readily for eating.
The four species ice seal, ringed, bearded, spotted, and ribbon are common in the Norton Sound and
Bering Strait year-round and have always been the bread and butter of survival for millennia, large numbers
could be taken via net or ice edge seal hunting.
Uncooked meat probably provides more nourishment than cooked meat, it has long been said the oldtimers were in good health because of the amount of raw foods they ate. Quite likely the major portion of raw
foods were eaten frozen. As was noted regarding the simplicity of cooking methods, eating foods frozen requires
very little preparation and skill, other than cutting the animal up in the portions you desire, and where and how
to catch them and then simply freezing the food item. Before freezers, our people utilized various methods to
freeze foods for later eating. Underground storage, like root cellars, were used in some places where the ground
remained frozen; and foods taken in summer to late summer could be put in those cellars where they would
freeze, although it is likely that those cellars were mainly used to store foods or age foods so that they would not
spoil, although there are places in our area where cellars could be dug that did freeze foods thoroughly, regardless
of the time of year. The most likely method was to harvest specific seasonal resources and let them freeze in the
freezing temperatures of fall and winter immediately after harvesting them.
Frozen meat, or “quaq” as it is called, is eaten raw and frozen NOT cooked. Crab is never traditionally
shelled, when crab is boiled or eaten frozen it is eaten entire YES even the guts, blood, lungs, etc. When crab
is boiled it is boiled, for a very short time and then eaten. The juices inside the shell is called soup and is
consumed with gusto, very good stuff. The key with all seafood is not to overcook or it dries out. Another
reason crab is not shelled is that it will dry out when cooked. [Generally seal oil in my area is made from two
species the bearded seal and ring seal other areas of Alaska make seal oil or mizigaaq as it is called from other
species. They are not that different in taste. Might as well get into making of seal oil.]
Egging
Birds, yes lots of birds. I go egging every year. We get around 30
to 40 gallons of wild eggs per year, mostly murre eggs, cliff-nesting birds,
and cliff climb for them on Sledge Island, that island to the west of Nome
that you may remember. In spring we get birds, all kinds: in winter get a
few ptarmigan here and there. Fall time I don’t get many birds although I
prefer a large shorebird called the whimbrel in fall. Those suckers are fat
and lazy. Plink ‘em with .22, good little bird. I make cushions from bird
skins too. My kids sit on them when we go boating so they don’t get cold,
you just hard-tan them as well, no tanning. Make other stuff too, mostly
just utlitarian things knife sheath, etc.
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“Agutaq”
Eskimo Ice Cream
Things needed:
Seal Oil, Moose, reindeer or caribou fat (it does not matter which one), berries, any kind the more the
better, usually, blueberries, blackberries, and salmon berries, fish, any kind will do, usually white fish.
Sugar, (optional), YES sugar the traditional white powder of the North, I prefer agutaq without sugar,
although the widespread use of sugar in agutaq is now so common that people will scoff at agutaq without
sugar, but I prefer it the traditional way.
The seal oil and fat is mixed together and whipped to a creamy consistency. The fat is cut into tiny small
pieces; a cheese-grater makes quick work of chopping up the fat.
Remember to remove any membranes from the fat. Whipping up
the fat and seal oil mixture takes some time by hand, about 1/2
hour, just a few minutes with an egg-beater though, eventually the
seal oil and fat will get to the consistency of thick frosting. The
seal oil to fat ratio is about one part seal oil, and two parts fat. The
fish of your choice is boiled. The meat of the fish is used, if its
tomcod or fish with very small eggs, the eggs can be added with
good effect and more nutrition. After being fully cooked, the fish
is allowed to cool. After cooling, the fish is deboned and squeezed
dry, either with your hand, or it is even easier and quicker to put
the fish meat inside some cheesecloth and squeezing while in the
cloth. After being squeezed dry, it is spread out somewhere to
make sure all bones are removed, and allowed to air dry for a few
minutes, generally one to two fish are used. Dep ending on the
size you generally want, about half a gallon of fish or something
like that. The fish meat is now ready to put in the seal oil and fat
mixture. The fish is put in the mixture and again whipped up. It
takes about another half hour to whip it up again if by hand, if
using an egg beater it does not take long at all, probably just as
long as it would take something like eggs to be whipped up.
After the fish and fat mixture are whipped up, the berries are put in. The berries can be put in fresh,
although many prefer to have the berries frozen, and then put in the fish and fat mixture. The berries are mixed
in by hand, your hands get cold doing that. Generally a gallon of berries is used as the fat and fish mixture
expands to about a gallon, so when you are done doing that, you get about two gallons of agutaq. This food
item represents three seasons, moose fat from fall, fish from summer, winter or fall, and berries from summer,
seal oil from spring. So as you can see agutaq is the culmination of three seasons of fishing and hunting. Like
I mentioned it is the ultimate survival food. It is hardy, reliable and can be put in a container while hunting
in the winter and used for sustenance. All of the ingredients are prepared at the same time so while the fish is
boiling you can whip up the fat and oil mixture, the kids or somebody can squeeze the fish, etc.
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There are many different types of agutaq; this is just one type. If a person wants to use sugar, you just
add sugar while whipping up the seal oil and fat mixture before you add the fish. In some areas of Alaska people
will use replacement ingredients such as Crisco and Wesson oil to replace moose fat and seal oil, there is a
slightly different taste, and some folks can make really good agutaq that way, but in my opinion, it is not real
agutaq and should never be confused for the real thing.
Dogs
Dog Food
Here at home cooking dog feed for the morning listening to some AC/DC. Dog feed too could be
another topic for a book although now days for the most part it is pretty simple go to the store buy yer feed then
water and go.
I am cooking up some walrus that washed ashore this summer, I cut it up and dried it and am now
cooking it, although my supply is getting low of that, and this winter was weird, did not get ANY tomcod for
dog feed, me dogs mostly get nature food, they do better on it, coats blow
at the right time, pads stay good and healthy. I see some mushers running
last night. They had booties on for a dinky little 12 mile run, poor
dogs feet must be hurtin if they are runnin with booties this early in the
season. Long ago washed up walrus, or any animal for that matter, was a
source of food. If you can imagine, no guns long ago, or even 100 years
ago cheap guns. Dead animals that washed up were utilized for human
consumption. This past summer a walrus washed ashore (well several
actually) that was in fairly good shape but slightly rotten. I used the good
aged parts, the hind flippers for eating after I determined that it died of human causes first. I certainly didn’t
want to be eating anything that died from pollution or poisoning and it was good, a little aged. YAH scavengers
we are!!
Long ago mushers did not use booties very much. They (old timers) say the key to
dog pad health was walrus meat and blubber: if you feed dogs a healthy dose of walrus you
won’t have any foot problems they say. I believe that. It has long been recognized by many
old-time mushers that nature food is better for workin’ dogs. In speaking with some old
timers it is clear to me that long ago mushers duplicated many of the distance and speed
that modern day mushers do today. Some truly amazing dog mushing stories I have heard.
The old timers had some good dogs, or at least I’d like to think anyway.
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Emily Mendell
Page 21
Page 22
In The Supermarket Forest
In a country where food isn’t food
In a country full of people who eat cheese that’s died orange and pre-cut to fit on crackers
In a country where farmers are being robbed of their profit margin and their dignity
In a country where breakfast comes from a box, lunch from a bag and dinner from the freezer
In a country that kills fourteen people every day with food-borne illnesses
In a country where we’ve forgotten how to know and care for the earth that nourishes us
In a country where underpaid, poorly protected workers process meat in factories with loosely enforced regulations
In a country whose children drink more soda than milk
In a country where farmer is no longer a socially acceptable occupation
In a country where fast food chains are more common than independent restaurants
In a country where it costs more to know how your food is produced
In a country whose government actively supports unhealthy,
unsustainable forms of agriculture
In a country full of kids who don’t know how to make mashed
potatoes
In a country that replaces natural fertilizers with expensive synthetic
ones and wonders what to do with animal waste
In a country where biotech companies patent gene strains and sue
small farmers when their plants cross-pollinate with one another
In a country where almost half the population suffers from diabetes,
cancer, food allergies, digestive disorders and other diet-related illnesses
In a country that’s slowly killing the rural farming community
In a country where most people wouldn’t survive if grocery stores
disappeared
In a country whose food distributors aren’t required to label food
with chemical additives or produce sprayed with chemical pesticides
In a country where sugar is an addiction
In a country where flavor is a commodity
In a country where good food is a special occasion
Page 23
In this country, I have found hope. Between negligence and despondency, I found people who make
constructive, conscientious decisions. And here I will encourage change with positive stories. I will write poems,
essays and letters. I will follow the example of history. I will create a home for inspiration and creativity in my
kitchen. I will change the way I understand my food. Here
I will plant a garden. Here I will harvest its bounty. And
here I will feed the world’s children.
It’s easy to feel that just by knowing you’re accepting the
burden. The majority of people in this country, myself
included, just allot a portion of their paycheck to the
inevitable obligation they have to feed themselves, buy and
cook the food it takes to complete the interaction and forget
about it.
If they’re lucky they have an appreciation for good food and
the high quality ingredients it takes to create satisfying meals. But not everybody is that lucky. Most of us know
a good meal when we swallow it, but very few of us can identify with people (often hunters, gardeners and selfproclaimed foragers) who claim they are emotionally fulfilled by the food on their table. Our food comes frozen,
canned and shrink-wrapped from all over the world, on routes we can’t even imagine. Although food processors
have managed to (albeit poorly) replicate flavors, aromas and textures of the fresh food people ate before the age
of processed food, they haven’t duplicated the fulfillment of crunching a carrot you grew yourself or serving the
venison you chased that fall.
When I first began this project I thought I was personally
responsible for restoring the connection between the table
and the field, forest or farm. Convinced I had to justify
the discrepancies between production and purchase, I felt
as if I had to either devote myself entirely to organic, free
range and natural foods, or rationalize my inability to do
so. I needed, I thought, to solve this problem before I could
write about it.
Needless to say, it was a rather overwhelming task. I spent
weeks reading every book I could find about industrial
agriculture and the many
other things wrong with the system that brings our food from the fields and the
feedlots to our tables. Kuhn, a famous scientific philosopher, author of Scientific
Revolutions, said the most difficult part of solving a problem, is figuring out
exactly what’s wrong. After that, the solution practically presents itself, he claims.
Well, I’m not so sure about that, but I had this idea that if I could identify
precisely what was wrong with the food system in the United States, I could write
a book that took a step toward solving its problems.
So I read and read and read. I read Wendell Berry’s The Unsettling of America. I
read Fast Food Nation, by Eric Schlosser, a moving story of the “McDonaldization
of America.” The book included stories of children who had died from E. coliridden meat and poorly paid employees of various food processing plants who had
Page 24
lost fingers, limbs and in some cases their lives in largely preventable accidents. I got emotionally invested in the
dilemma of small-scale farmers all over the country.
I read and I wrestled, in the aisle of the grocery store, with
the decision between canola and corn oil –both of which I
knew were most likely extracted from genetically modified
plants. I spent nights lying in bed, cursing capitalism,
industry, supply and demand, big business, fast food chains,
cost effective and efficient packaging, ignorance, advertising
and everything else I could think of that might be even
partially responsible for the current state of the food system
in our country (and increasingly, the world). Weeks went
by and I still hadn’t written anything.
When I was in first grade my classmates and I were asked to write and illustrate a story about “what I did last
summer” or “my cousin Sally.” I refused to begin writing. When my teacher called my parents and scheduled
a teacher conference, they were puzzled. “I don’t understand,” my mother said. “Emily likes to write and she’s
a good storyteller. She tells a lot of stories.” When I joined the conference, although I don’t remember the
occasion, I apparently told my parents and teacher that I didn’t want to write because I was afraid I would write
a bad story.
Although my elementary school days are long behind me, I faced the same essential challenges as I began my first
professional writing endeavor. I put off the writing process for a month. I spent my time fighting instead. There
were emotional and moral battles raging inside my head as I attempted to synthesize the general information I
had collected as a consumer and the specific things I had learned in my reading. Well, don’t hold your breath, I
didn’t come up with an answer. My physical, mental and emotional distress culminated in a serious back injury,
which gave me plenty of time to think things over as I lay on my couch with bags of ice beneath me.
I determined then that I didn’t have the solution, but thankfully,(!) nobody expected me to come up with one. I
am only expected, as the rest of you are, to make a very small contribution. A professor of mine once told me,
when I shared the frustration I felt about political issues relating to her
class, that I wasn’t required to change the world. “Clean up your own
back yard,” she said.
So armed with the rake of communication and a wheelbarrow full of
information, I’ve begun the process. I’m going to look and see if I can find
anybody around here who might have come up with a slightly better way
to do things – their own small piece of the solution – and tender a few
suggestions. I promise you what I write won’t give you a complete answer.
I also promise, though, not to feed you environmentalist propaganda or
shove my opinion down your throat. If, somehow, this project leads to
the slight solidification of your opinion (or mine, for that matter), I’ve
done my job. It probably won’t be perfect, but more than fifteen years
after my first grade graduation, I think I’ve finally come to terms with that
possibility, and I’m willing to give this a try.
I made homemade ravioli. Little pockets of hand-kneaded pasta dough
Page 25
tucked around a braised fennel and sweet sausage filling in a thin garlic alfredo sauce. I spent the afternoon
feeding egg dough through my mother’s pasta machine, preparing the filling and folding the ravioli. I also made
bread. Crusty baguettes, a recipe taken from my spice cabinet, where my collection of paper scraps and magazine
clippings is always floating out when I open the cupboard. I could organize them, write them all on lined index
cards and file them in a box. But preparing my mother’s Dijon seafood marinade from yellow construction
paper and baking ginger crinkles from the back of a torn bookmark seems more authentic.
Authenticity may be what’s missing from our food system. It’s what differentiates the food grown in your garden
from the food purchased at a supermarket. Each time the food we eat is
loaded into a truck, driven across the country or flown to another continent,
it loses a portion of its authenticity. As ingredients are premixed, re-flavored
and sealed for shipment, each step removes them further from their place
of origin. Each step takes away some of their dignity (not to mention flavor
and texture). Who says my pasta has dignity, huh? Maybe it’s not dignity.
Maybe it’s soul, or “life force.” The New York Observer called it gusto, in
its review of Eric Schlosser’s book Fast Food Nation. Whatever it is, homecooked meals have it, and pre-packaged ones don’t.
When my friends arrived for my ravioli dinner they said they could smell
garlic from the driveway. Despite its inadequate size and inconvenient
design, my kitchen has a good reputation. When they’re invited to a meal at
my house, my guests know I’ve baked the bread myself, the spaghetti sauce
is homemade, and the cake isn’t from a box.
Everything that comes from a box is not necessarily bad. As a resident of
Alaska I have a particular appreciation for canning, dehydrating and any other process that allows me to eat
more than just what is locally available during the winter. Prepackaged food may not be the all-encompassing
evil in the American food system; but when people don’t prepare their own food, they are less likely to consider
where it comes from, the energy it took to produce it, or the effects the current system has on the environment.
One of those negative effects on the environment is the unprecedented utilization of non-renewable energy. As
farming continues to mechanize, and food is shipped across continents to reach distant markets, increased energy
consumption is a growing concern. Exotic foods grown in distant markets can be tempting but when they’re
eaten at the cost of laborers who produce them and the cost of fossil fuels consumed in shipping, they aren’t as
sweet. In article entitled Food for Thought, Jules Pretty, of the University of Essex, UK, argues that eating locally
is the most environmentally considerate way to nourish the earth.
Energy consumption is coupled with soil erosion and
depletion, contamination of groundwater sources and
chemical dependency to contribute towards the current
agricultural crisis. A crisis? Certainly. Growing and
shipping food are both destructive activities, but the
processing may be worse. There’s no other way to describe
a time in which eating is detrimental to the earth, our
bodies, and perhaps even our spiritual selves. Our food is
continuously sprayed with dangerous chemicals designed
to disrupt the ecosystem in which a plant is growing.
Page 26
If those chemicals kill bugs and weeds almost instantly, what are they doing to our bodies? It’s contaminated
during growth and stripped of any remaining authenticity during processing. Our food system isn’t just killing
the earth; it’s killing us!
Sometimes it seems we have no choice, especially if we’re on a tight budget, but to eat food that has been
sprayed, shipped, dyed and dehydrated, food that has
no soul left. I’ve found, though, that cooking my own
meals allows me to reinsert a little bit of the food’s soul. I
feel slightly more connected to the food I eat. But can we
ever truly feel connected to our environment when the
food we eat is shipped to us from all over the continent
and the world? Since the beginning of the industrial
revolution, when self-sufficiency at home gave way to
mass production, virtually everything we use (cars, clothes,
food, electronic equipment, houseplants, cigarettes) comes
from a distant factory. Although the elaborate processing
and transportations systems that enable restaurants
in Minneapolis to serve lobster and people in Alaska to eat oranges certainly has some benefits, they may be
outweighed by the disadvantages.
Author Ted Steinberg, in his book Down to Earth, wrote about the shift from local to removed farms as early as
the turn of the Twentieth Century. “…the farms that once dominated the outskirts of New York City, until the
turn of the century the nation’s most important growing center, lost ground to competitors in California and the
South…As early as 1927 two-thirds of all canned fruit purchased in the United States originated in the Golden
State. By 1980, two-fifths of all the nation’s fresh produce was grown there. The rise of the moveable feast,
however, exacted a high social and ecological cost.”1
What are those costs? The list is a thousand miles long but it includes things like the drying and contamination
of groundwater aquifers, soil degradation and erosion, dependency on chemical fertilizers, the development
of herbicide-resistant weeds known as “super weeds” and resistant insects called “super bugs,” and poisoned
groundwater due to improper disposal of animal wastes. These are just the ecological costs.
Traditionally, we think of the environment as secular from ourselves. We fundraise to save the whales, or protest
against clear-cut logging, and although those things may create a better world for our children, it may not
actually affect our day-to-day lives if the trees go down or the whales don’t survive. But concern for the manner
in which our food is produced is a different kind of
environmentalism. It’s connected, directly, to our health.
In his book The Unsettling of America, Wendell Berry
argues that our health is not only connected to the health
of the environment; the two things are essentially the
same. Health does not mean only the absence of disease.
It refers to physical and emotional wholeness.2 You can’t be
your healthiest if the earth on which you stand, the food
you eat, and the water you drink are all contaminated.
Traditionally, if you’re sick with a cold, for example, you’re
Page 27
unhealthy because one of the systems (the respiratory system, usually) in your is unable to complete its regular
tasks.
If we recognize the connection between the earth and ourselves, we will see the obstacle standing between us
and “wholeness” is the earth’s sickness. It has been compromised as monocultures disturb local ecosystems, for
example. One of the earth’s systems is then unable to function and must rely on dangerous chemical fertilizers to
produce what could be produced naturally.
We come from the earth, rely on her to feed us while we live, and return to her. Our treatment of the
earth is, essentially, the treatment of our own bodies. As her waterways are filled with poison, so is our blood.
As her soil is sickened with chemicals, so is our flesh. How can we possibly be healthy and whole when we
rely on a tainted food supply? When we live in an environment where there’s arsenic in the soil and lead in the
water? We can’t. And we’re not. Everything from soil erosion to rising obesity rates, from pesticide dependency
to increasing stress levels is showing us otherwise. The earth is suffering. Her people, us, are sick.
In 1971 Ita Jones wrote a book called The Grub Bag. In a book filled with budget and body-healthy recipes,
she wrote, “…our natural bodies know best how to deal with and use natural food.”2 There is really no wonder,
considering the things we put into them, that our bodies are telling us we aren’t healthy. I don’t have to list
mind-boggling statistics about the increased cancer rate, or the overwhelming percentage of people who suffer
from food-related conditions like high blood pressure and Irritable Bowel Disorder, to show that there are
problems with the way our food is grown, processed and presented.
No statistics required, the food speaks for itself. There are unnecessary amounts of sugar in the salsa and salt on
the chips. There are pesticides on the vegetables and antibiotics in the chicken. It was all prepared in oil from
genetically modified corn, then frozen and thawed. It was reheated, sprinkled with anxiety, sauced in worry and
washed down with an artificially-flavored, carbonated fruit beverage. Sound familiar? We eat this food every day.
We know there’s a problem, and we know it’s big.
When I was in college I took an Environmental History course from a professor who grew up in Iowa. He
told us a story of a time when he and his classmates took a soil sample from a section of ground that had not
been plowed. Untouched prairie isn’t common in the heart of the Corn Belt, but they found a piece and did a
core sample. They found almost two feet of nutrient-rich humus beneath the grass. When they took a sample
from across the street (an active corn field) they found only a few inches of fertilizer-enhanced topsoil above
exhausted, sand-like soil. The current state of the field he described is unknown, but farming practices haven’t
changed much. This story took place when my professor was a high school student. He just completed his PhD.
The depletion and erosion of soil all over the world is just another thing on the list of reasons why we should
be ashamed of the way our food system works right now. It can feel hopeless, because the problem is huge,
and most of us only know how to cope with it on a personal level. So we must rely on that personality, the
individual choices made by people all over the country, will stop the leaks in this sinking ship.
Cooking my own dinner, instead of emptying it from a can, may not save that cornfield in Iowa. And it
probably won’t get rid of the gigantic “dead zone” in the Gulf of Mexico, where every day the Mississippi River
spills millions of gallons of water tainted with fertilizer nutrients. I hope, however, that it will serve as a medium
through which I can connect to the food I eat. If steaming my own vegetables gives me reason to ponder their
place of origin, and the resources they taxed to arrive at my table, then I believe cooking my own meal directly
affects the amount of authenticity in the American food-production system.
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My mother was a master of authenticity in the kitchen. Cooking was a part of my childhood, so the food I cook
is a part of me. Every time I bake a cake, I mix a piece of myself in with the eggs. When I cook, and particularly
when I stroll the aisles of the grocery store, each meal is a product of the cooking I’ve done, the books I’ve read,
and the stories I’ve been told. Although they may not have understood my reasoning, and they may not have
known that I agonized over the choice between the more pocketbook-friendly conventional olive oil and the
organic olive oil for ten minutes, my friends knew the ravioli they ate that evening at my kitchen table was real.
One of them left a tip.
(Endnotes)
1
Ted Steinberg, Down to Earth pg 175
2
Wendell Berry, The Unsettling of America 97-104
2
The Grub Bag. Ita Jones pg 172
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Do What You Can
Between the pages of this dooms-day literature, I have found sources of hope. I’ve read a lot about the way our
current food-production system poisons rivers, eliminates soil fertility, traps farmers in dept cycles and feeds
consumers chemical-laden foods. While I struggle with my own opinions and my obligation to participate in
the solutions to those large-scale problems, I meet individuals who are doing the right thing, even if it’s on a
small scale. Those are the people who inspire me to make positive changes in my lifestyle.
I couldn’t explain the circumstances that brought this ex-cowboy to my kitchen window, but there he was. He
told me a story about the time he spent on a ranch in Wyoming that made me understand his connection to that
land. He told me about his daily routine, but he didn’t mention what he ate. Canned beans and dirty coffee?
Hamburger Helper and Capri Sun? He simply forgot to say.
Our discussion led us to our childhoods, his in suburban Michigan, mine in rural Vermont. Our paths
crossed in Alaska, in my kitchen with the smell of steamed rice and fresh stir-fry. I found the answers to my
questions about his consideration of food. A financially-strapped bachelor, the cowboy in a baseball cap at my
kitchen table said the majority of his meals come from a box. He understood that he wasn’t eating the most
nutritious diet imaginable. He was, after all, a fellow writer and conscious soul. A coinsure of body and earth
understanding, he knew eating her fruits would introduce him to the land of his new home. So he endeavored
to learn to cook. I told him bread-making stories and shared with him the satisfaction I get from chopping
vegetables.
We certainly can’t solve the problem. It’s questionable, in fact, whether or not we can make noticeable
contributions. Neither of us is planning any time in the near future, to move out to the bush and lead a
subsistence lifestyle in which we would be completely connected to and inevitably dependent on the land. It
may be years before we’re even in the position to plant a garden. Perhaps organic produce is the next best thing.
That way, even if we weren’t producing it ourselves, we would know what is in our food. Right now though, as
a budding journalist and student, the cowboy and I can’t afford organic foods. If we made different choices, we
might have a larger pocketbook at the market checkout. Frankly though, we agreed we’re not quite ready to give
up the other things we spend money on. We like live music, weekend ski excursions, and car insurance too much
to sacrifice them in the name of higher-quality groceries.
So where do we go from here? We go to the kitchen. We start cooking. The best we can do, at this point,
is learn to cook and eat well. We’ll set aside the fact that the bell peppers we’re eating in our stir-fry were
genetically engineered with larger, water succulent cells to increase their weight (and consequently the price we
paid for them). We’ll focus instead on recognizing the wrongs within the agricultural system and contribute by
making conscious decisions and buying ethically-produced products when we can. In the mean time, though,
we’ll enjoy the food we eat. We’ll be thankful and understanding of the (sometimes distant) connection we have
to the things we put in our mouths.
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Sourdough
The story:
I felt this pressure, writing an Alaskan cookbook, to include
at least a couple sourdough recipes. History is interesting,
but it turns fascinating when you stand on the sight of
a burial ground, or beside a monument that marks a
battlefield. I’ve been blessed with a healthy imagination, but
it wasn’t until I learned to combine the things I had learned
in history class with the things I could imagine that I began
to truly enjoy history. My junior high school’s trip to a
Canadian Iroquois Reservation solidified my fascination
with history I could see. It taught me, also, as I ate Caribou
Lasagna that traditions can be respected and valued without
being followed exactly. Obviously lasagna is not part of the
Iroquois people’s traditional diet, but they’ve adapted their ancestors’ practices. They’ve devised innovative ways
to preserve portions of their history, but still live reasonable, fairly convenient lives.
So, it’s in the tradition of preservation of custom and respect for the people who have passed though this place
before me, that I’m including sourdough recipes. Any old sourdough recipe won’t do, though. The integrity
of the bread must be preserved. It’s got to be full of air bubbles, chewy and of course, sour. At this point, my
search for the perfect recipe is incomplete. I’ve tried a few, so far. The first, adapted from a Southern Living
Cookbook, is fantastic bread. It’s holds it moisture. It cuts well for sandwiches. It browns well, especially with
an egg wash. It tastes great as toast. But it’s not chewy. It’s not bubbly. And it’s not sour. But if you need to use
the starter, as you must every 14 days to keep it fresh, but aren’t in the mood for sourdough, it makes light and
fluffy white bread without a hint of that sourdough tang.
The recipe:
Not Sour sourdough:
2 packages active dry yeast
1 cup warm water (105*-115*)
1 cup sourdough starter (at room temp)
¼ cup vegetable oil
¼ cup sugar
3 teaspoons salt
2 large eggs, beaten
5 to 6 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons butter or margarine, melted.
Combine yeast and warm water, let stand 5 minutes. Combine yeast mixture, sourdough starter, oil,
sugar, salt, eggs and 3 cups flour in a nonmetal bowl. Stir or knead in enough remaining flour to make soft
dough. Knead until smooth and elastic, approximately 10 minutes. Cover and let rise until doubled. Punch
down and let rise again, if desired (this will make it slightly more sour). Otherwise, divide in half, shape into
loaves and let rise before baking in a 375º oven. Bake for about 35 minutes, remove from oven and brush with
butter.
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My second attempt was the worst bread I’ve ever made,
so I won’t include that recipe. I enjoy baking, but I’m not
an expert. My learning curve has produced some pretty
questionable loaves. My tofu bread is an example of
baking gone bad. Now that I think of it, the all-rye bread
didn’t turn out so well. Neither did the Naan. Though
dry or tough or spongy, all of those breads were edible
dipped in soup or toasted with plenty of butter. My second
sourdough attempt was so bad the birds wouldn’t eat it!
Three days after baking, I was out in my yard wearing dish
gloves, collecting the soggy, moldy chunks I had scattered.
But there’s something about being in Alaska –an imaginary trip I’ve made with gold-digging supplies on my
back, a sourdough starter tucked in my breast pocket– that kept me searching for a recipe that yields bread with
an authentic sourdough flavor. The central theme of this project has been connection to place, but it’s not just
connection to the land that’s important. Respect for elders and honor for ancestors are two important concepts
in Native Alaskan culture. Although Alaska is neither my birthplace nor the birthplace of my ancestors, it is in
the tradition of respect that I will honor the people who have been
here before me by preserving some of their traditions. Sourdough
bread is one of them.
So I tried a recipe that wasn’t so specific. I’ve found, as my baking
skills have increased, that I prefer recipes that “suggest” things and
leave lots of room for interpretation. I began with a recipe that
included baking soda, but I’ve found through the previous recipe,
and a failed attempt at sourdough biscuits, that my particular
starter reacts badly with soda.
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Another recipe:
Basically, I just made it up. I gave my starter a “mini feed,” a couple tablespoons of both flour and water. I
covered it loosely with plastic and let it bubble. The next day (a minimum of 8 hours) I added two teaspoons of
salt, a bunch of vegetable oil (more than ¼ cup), some sugar (tablespoons… the more sugar you add, the more
“food” you’re giving your yeast.) and about ½ cup warm water. I stirred in flour until I couldn’t stir (three, unsifted, mounded cups) and kneaded in as much as the bread would take. Depending on the thickness of your
starter and the amounts of liquid you’ve added, it may be 1 to 3 additional cups of flour. For me it was less than
two. I kneaded it for a while. Experience has taught me when bread is done being kneaded. It’s usually about
the amount of time it takes my arms to get really tired. This dough was smooth and fairly soft. The feeling of
the dough is one of my favorite things about sourdough bread; I think it likes to be kneaded. I let it rise until
doubled (overnight, but can be less) and kneaded it for another ten minutes or so. I split the dough, put one of
the loaves in a pan and the other in a ball on a baking sheet. I found if you don’t put it in a bread loaf pan, this
dough will spread and flatten too much. I let them rise overnight again. The bread came out slightly chewy and
full of bubbles. It was very sour. A sourdough made without additional yeast relies on the original starter colony
to rise and as it grows the yeast content increases, producing extremely sour bread. If you prefer bread that is less
sour, decrease the middle rising time. Wash with an egg and bake at 375º until the bread taps hollow.
The ingredients:
Before humans understood how to harvest and produce yeast, wild yeast spores were the only leavening agent
available. A “traditional” sourdough is made without packaged yeast. There is yeast everywhere, especially in
warm climates. In a warm, open kitchen a combination of flour and water will collect and reproduce enough
yeast to leaven bread in about three days. In Alaska though, established yeast colonies are more reliable. For
that reason, it’s best to begin a starter from store-bought yeast or get some from a friend. Every recipe has a
different suggestion about how to treat your starter, whether or not you should add additional yeast to your
bread, how long to let it rise, the baking temperature and everything else. I know what works for my starter, in
my kitchen, but it varies widely depending on the circumstances. An understanding of the science of sourdough
is essential to consistently delicious sourdough bread. Classic Sourdoughs: A Home Baker’s Handbook, by Ed
Wood, is an excellent guide. Aside from his skills as an expert baker, Wood is also a biologist and yeast specialist.
His book is just a little bit technical.
Local author Ruth Allman wrote Alaska Sourdough, which I recommend highly. Rita Davenport’s The Sourdough
Cookbook, covers all the bases (from starters to breads to pancakes) and has special consideration for the modern
baker. Recommending the “best” cookbook is like providing the “best” recipe. Both are impossible. I hope I’ve
given you some ideas. I’ve found, though that experimenting and finding a recipe you like is the best part. It
takes time; but a bubbling starter, a bowl of dough or a fresh loaf in the corner of your kitchen is half the fun.
Page 33
Garlic-Lover’s Halibut Pizza
The story:
A friend and I created this recipe one leisurely afternoon, when there was leftover fish in the freezer. We chose a
whole-wheat crust on purpose, the rest of the ingredients (including a strong Swiss cheese instead of mozzarella)
were guesses from the aisles of the local specialty grocery store. Marinating the scallions in vinegar was an
instinct drawn from the logic that paired white fish with tar tar sauce. It turned out fabulously.
The recipe:
Whole-wheat crust:
3 cups whole-wheat flour
3 cups unbleached white flour
3 Tablespoons salt
½ cup light olive oil
1 package (2 ¼ teaspoons) active dry yeast
1 cup warm water
Mix flour, salt and yeast in a large mixing bowl. Stir in water and oil. When it gets too tough to stir, turn onto a
floured surface and knead until smooth and fairly elastic. Wheat dough is tougher than white, don’t over knead.
Let it rise in a warm place for two hours, or until doubled in bulk. When the dough retains the imprint of your
fingertip, it’s ready to shape. Preheat oven to 475º. Shape into two pizza crusts and let them rise for another ten
minutes before topping.
Garlic Alfredo Sauce:
4 Tablespoons unsalted butter
4 Tablespoons unbleached white flour
2 cups milk
1 cup grated cheese (we used a strong Swiss, but feel free to experiment)
8 cloves fresh garlic, peeled and minced
Ground pepper and salt
While the dough is rising, melt the butter in a heavy
saucepan and whisk in the flour. Cook on medium heat
for a minute or two, stirring constantly. Reduce heat
to low. Add the milk slowly, whisking the whole time.
Sauce should thicken. Add grated cheese, garlic, salt and
pepper. Cook on very low heat until garlic smell isn’t
quite so strong. Meanwhile, prepare the toppings.
Toppings:
1 lb. halibut pieces
1 lb. fresh spinach
1 bunch scallions
¼ lb. mushrooms
½ lb. Swiss cheese
1 clove garlic
Dash of vinegar and oil.
Flour, salt and pepper.
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Rinse the fish if it’s been frozen. Sprinkle 1 pound halibut pieces lightly with flour, salt, pepper and a bit of hot
paprika. Heat a sauté pan with a little oil on high. Flake the fish apart with a fork while it’s cooking and set
aside when done.
Wash and stem 1 lb. of fresh spinach, or thaw 8 oz. of frozen. If fresh, place in a pot without water over
medium heat. The water on the leaves will steam the greens. When they’re wilted, remove from heat and cool.
Chop and set aside.
Chop 1 bunch green onions. While the dough is rising, soak in equal splashes of wine vinegar and olive oil.
Mince a clove of garlic, add and stir. Chop and set aside.
Slice mushrooms and set aside.
Grate the cheese (this is a fairly rich meal, the amount of cheese on top of the pizza may vary with your taste).
Spread half the alfredo sauce on each crust, topping with spinach, marinated scallions, halibut, mushrooms and
grated cheese. Grind fresh pepper or sprinkle red pepper flakes, if desired. Bake at 475º for ten minutes, or until
crust is done and cheese is bubbling.
The ingredients:
If you grow your own vegetables this pizza is best with fresh spinach and homegrown garlic. Depending on
the time of year, you may substitute wild onions for scallions. Also depending on the season, just about any
edible wild mushroom would be preferable to the store-bought variety. Information about edible mushrooms
can be found in “The Savory Wild Mushroom”, by Margaret McKenny, revised and enlarged by Daniel E. Stuntz.
Universityof Washington Press, Library of Congress Catalog Card # 78-160288, ISBN # 0-295-95156-7 (paper).
Halibut can be found throughout most of the marine waters of Alaska. It’s the largest of the flatfishes and
it’s distributed along the continental shelf of the North Pacific from southern California to Nome, Alaska. Most
halibut are caught at depths of 90 to 900 ft, but according to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, they’ve
been recorded at depths of up to 3,600 ft. They generally inhabit deeper waters in the winter. They spawn from
November to March at depths of 600 to 15,00 ft. After spawning they migrate to shallower coastal waters for
summer feeding. It’s at this time they’re easiest to catch and tastiest to eat.
Also according to the ADFG, halibut will eat anything they can catch. Adult fish (most caught by sport
fisherman vary from 5-15 years old, although they can live to be 40) will eat pollock, sablefish, cod rockfish,
octopus, herring, crabs, clams and smaller halibut. For sport fisherman the Department of Fish and Game
recommends jigging near the bottom with artificial lures or hooks baited with octopus, salmon or whole or
cut herring just before or after slack tide. Although most fish caught in sport fishery weigh between 15 and 60
pounds, halibut can weigh several hundred pounds. Chose your equipment accordingly. The most productive
time of year to fish for halibut is late May through mid-September, but the open season is Feb. 1 through
December 31. Anglers are allowed 2 halibut per day and 4 in possession.
Page 35
Fiddleheads
The story:
Between winter and summer Vermont, where I was raised, is a lot like
Alaska. Winter is a little shorter. Summer a little warmer, and fall more
colorful. But there, like here, there is a season missing. There is no spring,
but fiddlehead season lasts a week.
I didn’t know it when I was nine, digging through decaying, soggy
underbrush, but fiddleheads are the State Vegetable of Vermont. They
used to grow on the hillsides and in the flood plains of the river in my
hometown. My family’s efforts to pick them on time were a dance with
nature. Often we over-estimated the warmth of the nights, we’d trek along
the sides of the streams only to find the ferns hadn’t emerged. So we’d come
back in a few days and harvest the fiddleheads before they began to uncurl.
Sometimes, though, we’d miss the short window between the last hard frost
and the long sunny days, and my mother would lament over the loss of
another fiddlehead season.
But when spring lasted just long enough, we’d come home with little sacks
of green swirls. My sister and I flaked away little pieces of their brown paper-like jackets. A lot of vegetables
brighten only after they’ve been cooked, but fiddleheads are different. When they are freshly washed, they look
like they are glowing through the holes of our blue enamel colander, as it dripps on the counter. Steamed,
sometimes we’d chill the leftovers in homemade vinaigrette. But a lot of times we’d just eat them all hot with
butter and salt.
I haven’t eaten fiddleheads in years. In my memory their unique, earthy flavor is second to picking them with
my family. We always went in the afternoon, when the sun was going down on the mountains across the river.
We drove down a dirt road where a young second-growth forest covered the bed of the old railroad. A flood had
washed out the tracks decades ago, but the remains of bridges and stations dotted the valley where we lived. The
cleared, shade-spotted railroad bed was perfect for fiddleheads. They grew all along the route which could still
be traced to the neighboring town.
Fiddleheads are very popular in New England. In fact, they support a small, seasonal canning industry in parts of
Maine. The recipe below comes from that state, where both fiddleheads and shrimp are easy to come by. Recipes
are just suggestions, though. The following recipe, for example, will stand up to endless variations (including
sherry vinegar instead of lemon juice, scallops, lobster or crab meat for the shrimp or just about any fresh herb in
place of the thyme)
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The recipe:
I prefer fiddleheads the way my mother used to serve them, steamed with butter and salt. However, if
fiddleheads are frozen for use later in the year (which should be done immediately after cleaning for up to 6
months) they are best included in another dish. They pair well with seafood, or they can be pickled.
Shrimp and Fiddlehead Medley
1 lb. Fiddleheads
6 oz. linguine pasta, uncooked
1 lb shrimp, fresh or frozen
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves minced garlic
½ lb. Fresh mushrooms, sliced
1 t. thyme
1/8 t. celery seed
2 T. lemon juice
salt and pepper.
Cut off ends of fiddleheads. Remove scales and wash thoroughly. Cook shrimp, set aside. Cook fiddleheads in
boiling water for ten minutes and drain. Oil a large skillet, add onion and garlic and sauté until onion begins
to soften. Stir in fiddleheads. Add sliced mushrooms, thyme, mustard seed and salt and pepper to taste. Cook,
uncovered over medium heat until mushrooms are tender. Stir in shrimp and lemon juice. Cook until heated
and serve over cooked pasta.
Important note: The Center for Disease Control associated a number of food-borne illness cases with fiddleheads
in the early nineties. Although a toxin has not been identified in the fiddleheads, the findings of that case suggest
fiddleheads should be cooked thoroughly (boiled for ten minutes or steamed for twenty) before eating.
The ingredients:
Fiddleheads are the young, coiled leaves of the ostrich fern. They grow in moist soil in deciduous and mixed
forests, on riverbanks and in swamps from Alaska to Newfoundland and south to the Virginia and Northern
California. The fiddlehead season is short, 2-3 weeks and may begin as early as April, depending on location.
As mature plants, fertile fronds (?) and small white hairs on the stem identify Ostrich ferns. However, nearly
all ferns have fiddleheads, and they are not so tasty as the ostrich. Consult “Wild Edible & Poisonous Plants of
Alaksa”, Coop. Extension Service, University of Alaska Fairbanks & USDA Cooperating and / or “Alaska’s Wild Plants
A Guide to Alaska’s Edible Harvest”, Janice J. Schofield for small-plant identification information.
Page 37
Sugar Swollen Ants
The story:
My sister and I, my best friend, her older brother and the
two boys from up the hill piled into our minivan a few
times every July. My mother drove us to the U-pick farm in
the next valley over and we spent the day stuffing ourselves
with juicy berries. Even when I could feel the stomachache
coming, the berries were so perfect I couldn’t stop eating
them. I turned my back on the cashier at the scale; afraid
she might insist I scoop out the contents of my stomach
and pay for those, too. They weren’t washed, but it didn’t
matter because they weren’t sprayed with anything. They
had sun spots and water stains and bug bites, but they were
still good. Berries are always best when they’re warm. In July they absorb the heat from the sun and they feel
warm in your mouth, but then when you bite one, the juice is almost cool. Impossibly, it’s warm and cool at the
same time.
It was hot in the field and if I picked half a flat I’d done a good job. Then in the air-conditioned car on the way
home, the boys had longer arms than I did. They could reach over the back seat without much movement. My
mom caught them anyway, but she wasn’t mad. She sped through the dips in the short-cut road that made our
queasy stomachs flip again, and we laughed because we were afraid if we didn’t we might be sick.
The process of making strawberry jam is somewhat skewed in my mind. I remember washing the berries, and
trimming them on the wooden chop block beside our stove. My mother used a thin paring knife and drew it
towards her thumb. Her fingers were stained with juice, and so was the place on the chopping block where I
rested each berry to cut it. My hands weren’t big enough to hold the berry and the knife at the same time.
Once I sat on my mother’s lap and listened to her chewing a strawberry. I told her the seeds were crunching
and she defended herself by asking me to chew a berry without crunching the seeds. I did, sort of. I squished it
around with my tongue, and it melted like only a fresh strawberry will do. Then I swallowed and opened my
mouth for my mother’s inspection. She laughed and told me that wasn’t chewing.
Everybody loves homemade strawberry jam. My dad puts it on toast. My mom puts it in an antique jelly jar with
a silver spoon that we never polished. It always gets sticky and in the summer if we didn’t put it in the fridge
we’d find sugar-swollen ants between the seeds. I love the way you feel when you eat things that are homemade.
There’s love, soul and life between bites. Every time I eat homemade jam I remember the way the juice made my
mother’s hands look, the smell in the house, and the bugs under my hat as I knelt in the fields. I remember cups
of wet berries lined up on the counter, the sweet-tasting stomachache, and the way it swirled on the bread when
my mom splurged and fixed her toast with butter and jam.
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The recipe:
Strawberry jam is simple; it’s the canning process that takes time. It’s
worth it, though. Jars of jam make great gifts and mid-winter treats. I
know two recipes for strawberry jam. The first contains gelatin because
wild berries often have less natural pectin than domestic ones. That
version is recommended for wild berries. The second gets its texture from
a slower cooking process and is fine for domestic berries. Both are very
good.
With gelatin:
Wash and hull 2 quarts of strawberries. Cook berries and gelatin on high
until rolling boil. Add 7 cups of sugar and return to hard boil for one
minute. Remove from heat, scrape foam from top, and let sit 5 minutes.
Remove any additional foam and pour into prepared jars and continue
canning process.
Without gelatin:
Wash and hull berries. Crush and add ¾ lb. of sugar for every pound of berries (this may vary depending on
your preferences and the natural sweetness of your berries). Cook on low heat for half an hour, and then add
sugar. Boil lightly for 15 minutes or until desired thickness. Pour into prepared jars and can.
The ingredients:
Strawberries, which are actually members of the rose family, grow in different varieties all over the world. They
ripen in July and August, depending on location. In Alaska we find the Fragaria Virginiana, also known as the
Virginia Strawberry. It grows from the Yukon River Valley to Southern Yukon Territory and east to the eastern
seaboard. Also known as the wild or wood strawberry, it’s extremely hearty and spreads quickly. The berries are
small, but juicy and sweet.
The other variety of strawberry native to Alaska is the Chilean
strawberry. Places like Strawberry Point, near Gustavus, Alaska
are famous for this variety. It grows on beaches and looks like a
small, cultivated strawberry but its sugar content is slightly lower.
Both humans and bears are fond of beach berries, as they are
sometimes known, so be careful picking. For more information
and identification techniques see the “Alaska Wild Berry Guide and
Cookbook”, published by Northwest books.
Page 39
Witch-picker
The story:
My advisor is a witch; I just know it. I’ve tried, on many visits to her office to catch her performing a séance or
something, but I’ve been unsuccessful.
Then one fall evening, on my way home, the car in front of me swerved suddenly to the side of the road with
it’s hazard lights flashing. A middle-aged woman threw open the door and went running into the bushes with
a Ziploc bag. Concerned, I pulled over beside the car and followed her. I recognized the suspected professor,
fumbling hastily through the underbrush of the long-shadowed forest, filling her bag. Her tangled blond hair
and her home-sewn hat made her look more like a witch than she did in class. She was intent. She was searching
for the jewels in the bushes.
Her mascara was smudged, her lipstick smeared. She looked possessed. Her flowing, textured dress, eclectic
even for a college professor, was even stranger for a forager. By the end of the excursion it was tattered and soiled.
She wasn’t dressed for the occasion because she never knows when the berry spirits will speak to her, she told me
later from her kitchen stove.
In her mountain-side home where stuffed animals hang on the walls and plants drape over the windowsills, she
confessed her obsession. A college professor by winter, spring and summer, she claims Alaska’s short fall season
transforms her into a cackling crusader on a quest to quench her craving for cranberries.
She retrieved a huge pot from her pantry, saying that after this afternoon’s outing she finally had enough berries
for another batch. A batch of what, I wondered with a glance around her kitchen, which was strung with dried
herbs and animal parts. Sensing my suspicion, her dog (witches usually have cats, but this woman seemed as
though she was the exception to many rules) exploded into a frenzy of yapping. The fuss dislodged the ribbon
in the dog’s hair, and she abandoned her task to replace it.
She says she doesn’t mind the berries are tedious to pick. Berry picking transports her, she claimed…something
about a Zen-like state. “Witch!” my mind screamed “Or at least some kinda Hippie,” it rationalized. She
poured bag after Ziploc bag of wild berries into her kettle. She sprinkled herbs and ground roots. She cooked
over a gas stove, not an open fire, but my imagination is vivid; I was absolutely convinced I had a witch on my
hands.
But the appearance of her lumberjack type husband
soothed my worries. Witches don’t have husbands.
Sandals affirmed that she didn’t, after all, have square toes.
She did, however, have some kind of berry-picking mania.
She just couldn’t pick enough of them. Now, there are
only so many things you can do with cranberries. It’s not
like they make great pies, or jam. She solves her problem
by hosting an inordinate number of turkey dinners. She
must, after all, use a cupboard-full of homemade cranberry
sauce if she wants an excuse to pick more next year.
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