Chicken Sniffen

For once, internet discussion boards trump the experts.

The coop is located a mere 10-15 feet from my large kitchen window, which is always open.  There is a low-grade but persistent odor that hangs around no matter how much I attempt to clean (and to be perfectly honest, I'm not so on top of the cleaning mostly).  The only thing that has helped has been deep bedding in the pen, which makes a mess and prompts the girls to lay their eggs UNDER the coop.  At first I thought that strategy was pretty daft, until I realized that I am the primary predator of their eggs, and that's the hardest place for me to reach them.  Score one for the chickens.

If you check the multitude of chicken keeping handbooks and guides, everyone just says if you keep it clean enough, there won't be a smell.  Well, shucks.  I chalk this up to backyard chicken "experts" being more concerned with gaining converts than with solving practical problems.  They don't smell!  They're easy to care for!  They're not noisy! (I believe we have discussed that last point before)

Maybe all that is true if you live on an acre and houses are spread out.  But we're tightly packed here, so there is a low, low, low threshold for unacceptable odors and noise.  Just sayin'.

Here's the other thing:  for most of the year, it's pretty damp here.  It's humid.  The soil is clay and drains poorly.  And keeping chickens un-smelly largely depends on a dry environment.  They usually wind up walking around in a pen of wet clay, which is basically wet chicken poop.  No amount of cleaning will correct that (they have a wire bottom cage, by the way, so most of their waste drops to the ground below).

Exasperated, I hit the discussion boards, and guess what, smelly pens are a common problem!  Most people complain about it in the summer months, which is basically year round here.  The most reasonable solution seemed to be applying a layer of lime to the ground, to neutralize the urea.  After confirming my hydrated garden lime in the garage was too caustic, I found a 60lb bag of agricultural "Ag lime" at the garden center.  I hauled it home and sprinkled a light dusting - like a nice light coating of new snow - to all the bare earth.  I also sprinkled in the dog run, for good measure.

This is what I can tell you:  two days later, and I can't detect ANY smell, even standing next to the pen.  Also, despite trying to eat it, the hens are not dead.

Score one for me.

Tomatoes

I think I've finally got a handle on tomatoes. Been pulling in an armload of Romas and a bowl of the cherries every evening (the picture is of today's cherry tomato harvest and a few days' of Romas). Starting from seed is still hit or miss, so this time around I bought healthy looking plants from the local garden center.

Here are the things that, anecdotally, seem to help:

DAILY water

Lots of compost

Plenty of well drained soil (I have a 1 ft high raised bed that was loosened up 1 foot deep underneath when I installed it)

Grow during winter months

Calcium supplementation, either added to soil or as a foliar spray

Occasional addition of coffee grounds to soil

This seems to be working for me, anyway. I think compost and a steady water supply are probably the most important factors. Incidentally, I used no other fertilizers aside from the amendments mentioned above.

Your feedback is appreciated! It seems like would-be gardeners are often frustrated by growing tomatoes in Hawaii. In the future I will try to post a more comprehensive and evidence-based guide. Good luck!

Weeknight Spanakopita

It has been a long-standing tradition in our family to serve spinach pie (spanakopita, the kind with buttery layers of filo dough surrounding a spinach and cheese filling) at Thanksgiving.  My husband’s Nana was from Albania, although she had immigrated to Greece as a child, and it was always difficult to tell which of her culinary and cultural traditions originated from Albania, and which came from Greece.  In any case, she would always make large batches of spinach pie and bring them to holiday celebrations.
By the time it occurred to anyone to get her recipes, her dementia had progressed too far for her to pass them on.  She invited us over to her kitchen to make the dish with her, but unfortunately that never came to pass.  When Nana was finally too ill to cook herself, I vowed to take up the mantle.  I found the closest recipe I could in a cookbook, and it took years of tweaking (less onions!  no onions!  more cheese! less spinach!) but I finally got, well, close enough to satisfy the boys.  This left me with a recipe that is more or less mine, hastily typed out on a piece of paper and shoved in one of our overflowing recipe binders.  Someday, that carelessness is going to bite me in the butt. 
If you have never had spanakopita, I command you to proceed post-haste to a Greek restaurant and order yourself some.  It is one of the best things ever.  Sadly, it is also time consuming to make at home and not very healthy.  The dish is created by layering ultra thin filo pastry sheets (you can buy these pre-made in the freezer section of any large grocery store – even Nana didn’t make her own) in a pan, gently spreading melted butter on each tissue-thin layer with a pastry brush. The dough itself is very picky – it must be removed from the packaging right before use, or it will dry out too quickly and become unworkable.  It also cannot get too damp (a problem here in humid Hawaii) or it starts to stick together, at which point you’re better off ordering a pizza for dinner.
For all of the above reasons, I normally only make spanakopita once a year, around Thanksgiving, grumbling about working with the pastry and how much work this is for something that gets eaten so fast, while DH just rolls his eyes because he knows I love the attention.  Seriously, master spanakopita and bring it fresh to a party – your reputation for being a culinary genius will be secured forever.  Then you can breezily tell your friends it’s no big deal, that you just have to layer the delicate pastry piece by piece, keeping it covered with a damp towel, working quickly but gently etc. etc. etc. while they stare at you in awe.
Our other obstacle to everyday spanakopita is getting the correct feta cheese.  This issue is probably more specific to our family.  Most folks would be content with any good quality feta, although I encourage you to at least use sheep’s milk.  The feta we use is Bulgarian.  In Massachusetts, we would obtain this from a specific shop in Arlington, but as we’ve relocated three times since, we have had to search it out each time.  The only source of Bulgarian feta I have found in Honolulu is at the India Market on Beretania Street near University, where it comes in plastic tubs.  Fortunately, I am often in the area for work. 
If you decide to seek out Bulgarian feta, I should warn you that the product by itself is very much an acquired taste.  The first time I had it, I was certain it had gone bad.  The family assured me that it hadn’t, and that I’d get used to that.  It’s true – now American feta tastes like cardboard to me, and even the stronger French fetas just don’t seem quite right.  The flavor mellows considerably once it’s cooked in the dish, I promise, and I think that extra sourness is what makes our family recipe so special.  I have never encountered wrinkled noses when anyone, child or adult (and my son brought it to share with his Kindergarten class last year), tasted the finished product.  So trust me.
I was content with making spinach pie a yearly special occasion kind of thing, except my son just absolutely LOVES the stuff.  It’s hard to say no to a kid that’s begging for green vegetables.  Still, with a cup of butter, it does not exactly qualify as a healthy dietary staple.  I’m not against butter, but it might as well be dessert at that point (although we do that too; I make a killer Baklava).  I have been wondering if substituting with olive oil would be a possibility.

Malabar spinach grows on the trellis

I recently had the opportunity to finally test my theory.  I’d managed to stock up on filo and feta, and my Malabar spinach (a perennial vine and a good constant source of greens) had begun to jump its area into the next box.  I took my daughter out for a harvest and picked the young leaves while she chattered away and “helped”.  (“I’m picking a baby leaf!  Am I picking the smallest leaf?”)  As a bonus, we discovered several ripe cherry tomatoes.  This was definitely positive reinforcement for her to help me in the garden, as the only thing better than finding ripe cherry tomatoes and strawberries would be having a candy bar plant bearing chocolates and mints.  We tossed in a few sweet potato leaves and some chard as well.  On the way back in the house, I grabbed a handful of dill from my pot by the front door.
I used a Misto pump to spritz on olive oil between layers.  This made my work go much faster and more easily.  The quick progress also minimized my problems working with the filo as it was exposed to the environment.  In the recipe, I describe how to work with filo under most conditions.  However, I will tell you that in my local climate, I usually do NOT cover the pastry with a damp towel as it ends up getting sticky before I am done.  You will have to experiment to see what works where you live.
The end product came out crispy and tasty.  It certainly was not the decadent melt-in-your-mouth treat that a good spanakopita normally is, but that was not the goal here.  The greens were a bit overwhelming (I blame the addition of the chard which is a bit on the mature side) but that did not bother me.  What was surprising is that it didn’t bother the kids either.  My son gratefully chowed it (after MUCH anticipation) and took a second helping; he’s still talking about how great the leftovers are going to be in his lunch.  But the real shocker was that my greens-hating daughter polished hers off too, although I’m not ruling out 100% that some didn’t make it into the dog when I wasn’t looking, and there was that lingering promise of ice cream afterward.  (The night before, she had rejected a perfectly good caramelized onion, pepper, goat cheese and mozarella pizza, opting to skip the ice cream altogether rather than finish her dinner.  Really.  When I was a kid I recall choking down canned peas, green beans and corn.  I didn’t even realize you could get vegetables any way other than in a can until I was a teenager.  She doesn’t realize how good she has it.)

Healthier Spanakopita

• 1/2 lb. fresh spinach
• 1/2 lb. feta cheese, preferably sheep’s milk
• 2 tsp dried or 2 tbsp fresh chopped dill
• 3 eggs
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1/2 package of filo pastry sheets
• Olive oil

Wash and drain spinach.  Place in large pot or pan over medium high heat.  Allow to cook about three minutes, until completely wilted.  Remove from heat and allow to cool completely.  Squeeze as much water as possible from the cooled spinach (a potato ricer is excellent for this).  Set aside.
Lightly beat eggs in a medium bowl.  Add dill, salt and feta.  Break up feta with fork if necessary and stir to combine.  Add to drained spinach and combine.
Prepare the pastry:
Heat oven to 350F.  Spray a 13x10x2 pan with olive oil.  Remove thawed filo pastry from refrigerator and open package.  Cut the block of filo in half vertically (to fit your pan), then tightly wrap and return half the pastry to the refrigerator for another use.  Cover the filo with wax paper, and cover this with a damp kitchen towel.  Remove sheets one at a time and cover remaining pastry with wax paper and towel.
Lay the pastry sheet in the pan and spritz with olive oil.  Repeat until half the pastry is used (about 10 sheets).  Spoon spinach mixture onto pastry, spreading evenly. Continue to layer remaining filo pastry on top of spinach mixture, tucking the pastry in around the edges.  Spritz top generously with olive oil. Score the top half of the pastry with a sharp knife, cutting through to the spinach layer but not any deeper.
Bake for 35 minutes until crispy and slightly brown on top. Allow to cool slightly, cut through full thickness of pie along score marks, and serve.

BONUS RECIPE:  Lemon Rice Soup (goes great with the spanakopita)

You can make this while the pie is baking.

• 6 cups vegetable or chicken broth
• 1/2 cup uncooked rice
• 2-3 eggs
• Juice of 1 lemon
• Freshly ground black pepper, optional

Bring the broth to a boil.  Add the rice and simmer for 20 minutes or until tender.  Beat eggs in a medium bowl.  Carefully add the hot broth, 1/2 cup at a time, to the eggs, until doubled or tripled in volume, then add the egg mixture back to the soup and stir.  DO NOT allow the soup to boil once the eggs are added.  Stir in fresh lemon juice and serve, topped with freshly ground black pepper if desired.

Sweet Potato Redux

Two years ago, I attempted to grow sweet potatoes. The details are fuzzy, but I remember I had my very first 3x6 raised bed to plant, and I was excited to grow sweet potatoes in half of it.

And baby, did they ever grow. I took cuttings from a nursery plant and stuck them in the ground. They looked like they were going to die within the hour. But then, miraculously, they survived and started putting out new leaves.

They grew, and grew, and then grew some more. The vines crawled out of the box and into the adjacent flower bed / herb garden. I cut them back. Every week.

And they grew some more. Getting bored with cutting back the vines, I started to accept their habits and trained some into a nearby mock orange. It became difficult to determine where sweet potato vine ended and bush began. Occasionally I would redirect them when they threatened to take over the sage or the nasturtium, but mostly I let them grow. My Achilles heel when it comes to gardening is vines, and I was too tender hearted to hold them back.

Then came the whiteflies. They set up shop on the undersides of the leaves, so that when I disturbed the vines, little white clouds would billow up from them. My tough-as-nails sweet potatoes did not suffer, but unfortunately the whiteflies used them as a strategic base from which to launch an assault on my surrounding ornamentals and vegetables.

So when the time finally came after six months to dig up my harvest, I was relieved. Oh, it was bittersweet. I do love vines, and they lent a lush and bountiful aura to my garden. They shouted, "I'm growing vegetables! And they're thriving, dammit!" Since they've been gone, it has never been quite the same.

Occasionally before I harvested, I would eagerly scratch aside some dirt looking for the "tubers". I tried not to worry when I didn't find any. Surely they were just a bit deeper. But when the Big Day came, I dug up several impressively long taproots measuring 2 or 3 feet in length, but no tubers. I kept following the roots down, hoping the sweet potatoes were just a little beyond my trowel. When I came to grips with the lack of "real" potatoes, I tried convincing myself that these non-tuberous roots were edible sweet potato goodness. However, when I cut them open they were milky white and decidedly not yummy inside.

I had no idea what had gone wrong, but I knew I had just wasted six months of precious garden space and maintenance for nothing. I gave up.

Until this fall. The school garden that I help manage does this incredible sweet potato and taro garden with the fourth graders. The cuttings were sourced from a local farm and consisted of two different heritage varieties. The school's sweet potatoes are robust and relatively free of pests (despite whiteflies being present in the area).

I began to wonder if I had spent all that time growing an ornamental variety of sweet potato. Last week I decided to get back on that horse, after almost two years, and try again. As I was cleaning up the school beds on a Sunday afternoon, several vines broke free. Instead of throwing them in the compost, I brought them home.

I trimmed the last 12 inches from the vine tips, then stripped the leaves from these cuttings except for two or three at the terminal end. Then I stored the cuttings in fresh water until I was ready to plant (they will keep a couple days like this - they get all wilty but are still viable).

Meanwhile, I stripped the leaves from the rest of the vines. I discarded stems and yucky leaves by feeding them to the chickens. Then I washed my big bowl of remaining leaves.

I heated my cast iron skillet on medium until it was good and hot, then added olive oil and salt to the pan. I threw in the leaves and sautéed them until wilted -just a couple minutes. They were like baby spinach, but so much better. I can't believe I had all that good food in my garden two years ago, and I was just throwing it in the compost week after week!

After lunch, I planted my cuttings in loose soil about six inches apart, burying the stems up to the terminal leaves. They can be planted vertically or at an angle. The soil needs to be kept consistently moist until new roots are established and the vines begin to grow.

This time, I don't care if I get tubers as long as I can enjoy those greens. Whiteflies, stay away!

Aloha Aina!