The waiting . . .

Not a life of convenience.

The writing has been sparse I admit, but I don’t want to post simply to provide forced content. Not everyone follows for the stories anyway. I am working on some more visual journals, but first this post. Lately I have been busy getting life in order. I mentioned that I experienced a move (again). The circumstances surrounding that were not great. But in the end things did work out.

I did have a few photos to post, none of which are related. But I will use them and somehow make them all seem related. How I will weave them together will surprise even me. I know I could make a few different posts out of the content, but where would the fun be in that? This way makes a lot less sense, and things far more challenging. Maybe I will throw in a story while I’m at it.

Finally getting a place of my own in the city has changed a few things. I still won’t feel settled because I am here temporarily volunteering. Anyone have an idea when this war ends? Until then I will try and do a few things that help me feel a little bit grounded. Maybe do some good things for others at the same time.

I found a place with an oven - halleluja!! This is a good thing because I have missed making bread. And I have wanted to get back to making things to bake for soldiers, and help the Lviv Volunteer Kitchen raise money when they run their Sunday charity table. At the new apartment I didn’t have a decent work surface. So if I was going to be making things that required rolling, dividing, shaping, and all sorts of other steps involved in certain recipes I would need (knead) a more proper surface. I have a couple of mats, but they are finicky and not always great to work on. I did a lot of searching for things like dough kneading boards, but the quality was either lacking, the size not right, or the price just ridiculous. So the next best thing to do? Buy a countertop. Yes, it came down to that. But it turned out to be a good size for my new space.

I had been making some sourdough bread which I was able to do with a mixing bowl, and my cast iron bread baker.

The sourdough process is essentially fermented food. It is filled with healthy microbes and bacterias. This contributes to better overall health. Especially when whole grain and stone-milled flours are used. Have to admit I feel so much better in general when I am eating my sourdough bread. I eat some with almost every meal. Like we used to. The aroma and taste are remarkable. I am sure most of you have bread in your home that won’t go stale for a month. Just ask yourself how. My bread is essentially three ingredients - flour, water, salt (my leaven only consists of flour and water). Care to read the label on yours?

Now that I had my new kneading surface I wanted to get back to trying to make baguettes. Apparently they were selling at the charity table in the past (and for a decent price as well). But I am back to square one with new flours, new environment, and a new oven. Part of the challenge - or obsession. Just depends on your perspective. It was good to finally get a chance to work on something enjoyable again.

I did manage to get one that was photo worthy.

What I do with my bread baking I consider environmentalism. I try to buy flour from more organic sources (hopefully not sprayed with glyphosate and other harmful substances). Flour that had been stone-milled (to retain nutrition). And a variety of flours (hopefully providing diversity in what we are growing and farming). I try and seek out flour from sources that care about what is being grown. Flours that are grown for nutrition and flavour, not just being grown for the convenience of the processing. No doubt that means taking care of the soil - the Earth. When we make these choices, that helps the planet. Not private jets flying to Davos. My way is better.

That way of thinking is why I decided to grow a garden. To try and do something healthy for myself, and the things around me. No doubt it is likely cheaper, and certainly easier just to buy things from the store. Hey, I can even get it delivered to me at the click of a button. But that is not the point. It’s about doing something good for my mind, body, and spirit (or soul). It’s about maintaining a certain amount of control over myself. It’s about being connected to things that matter to me. All these conveniences in our modern world is a slow seduction. For every convenience, we pay a price. What has become evident is our health has paid a price. We are losing our connection to things that are natural. Losing our connection to things that should matter to us.

This connection to food is what makes me take steps toward treating the environment with respect. Trying to create healthy soil so the plants and food I grow are healthy as well. If we took these basic principles and applied it to larger processes we would not have so many problems with our food and general health. That is not really the purpose of this post. But the topic did help me bridge over from one subject to another.

The garden I grew did provide me with lots of herbs that I still use for cooking and pickling. It also gave me enough material that I am able to enjoy tea blends entirely from things I grew. The aromas are still so incredible. And salads just won’t be the same without freshly picked additions I used to have access to.

I also decided to try something I have had on my mind. Like make a gin. I have not gone crazy getting my own distilling equipment (yet). Instead I tried a cold infusion method with some vodka - горілка (horilka) actually. Usually you use a neutral and flavourless vodka to infuse your ingredients to make a more gin like spirit. However, this vodka (horilka) was sort of gifted to me. And it was just sitting there. Then I had a realization. My garden! I actually grew quite a few ingredients that can be found in gin recipes. A few others I had foraged from the nearby forest. And a couple of ingredients I obtained from the place I buy my honey at. Time to go a little mad scientist.

The vodka I was using had a bit of a kick and taste to it. I think it may have been someones home recipe if I am not mistaken. Not ideal for gin, but I still wanted to try and see how the addition of my blend of herbs and spices would change the flavour and aroma.

So how did I come to possess this Carpathian homemade horilka? Well . . . theres a story behind that. After doing a pizza service with a charity, we were invited to have a sit down meal with our hosts. We were also gifted some local cheese done in a decorative fashion. It was nice to share some conversation and food. One lady brought out a bottle of horilka. It seems we got a chance to learn some local customs regarding eating. Out came the shot glasses, and lots of toasts spoken in Ukrainian. Most of the team did not take part in all the rounds of shots. A few were driving so that made sense. The host discovered that I had Ukrainian heritage - how could I refuse now. But part of my time here is to also discover my culture and the traditions. And I did not want to insult our gracious hosts.

We came to a point where we have to say goodbye and start making our way back home. As I was leaving, the lady who was providing the toasts and the vodka handed me a jar with a clear substance in it. She decided to pack up some of the horilka for me as a parting gift. Дуже дякую (Duzhe dyakuyu - thank you very much). Apparently finding out that I had Ukrainian heritage had its perks. And she had such a good time teaching me the toasts. All five or six of them.

Oh brother, one of our trucks was stuck in some soft grass which quickly turned to mud. There was no good place to put down my glass jar. “Hey kid! Hold this.” I failed to mention that the gifted jar only had a rubber type lid, not a tight fitting metal lid. As we were struggling to get this truck out of the mud I look over at the kid holding the jar of vodka. He is moving around and waving it about. And sure enough some of the contents are spilling out from under the lid. I’m still pushing and trying to help the truck as it rocks back and forth. Then I see the kid look over at his friend as he is smelling his hands and from what I gather is telling him ‘hey, my hands stink.’ The truck can wait. “Hey kid - don’t lick your hands!” He doesn’t understand what I am saying. I run over and thank him for his service. Any advice I try and give him about the stinky hands is lost in translation. I find a little spot nearby and hope that no one will kick it over as we try and free the truck. And I hope we are out of this village before the parents potentially come back to the school looking for the guy with the beard.

So after I strained out my additions the ‘gin’ took on an amber colour. One day I’ll get to distilling my own blends and making something more traditional. Another layer of garden building and growing to think about. Additions for my beer brewing and spirit making.

The infamous ‘jar’.

I have not tasted or sampled it yet as of this writing. I still wanted to give it some time to mellow. But I did take in the aroma. I still notice the horilka smell, but now it has the aromatics of my ingredients. It will be interesting to see how it tastes. Maybe a nice addition to some cooking? Ah, the subtle are of waiting.

I seem to have taken on a lot of things that require waiting. Film photography. Growing gardens. Slow cooking. Bread baking. Fermentations of various types (like making beer). The more the world becomes ‘clickable’, and everything in an instant, the more I want to slow things down. To return to things that require my input, knowledge, skill, and attention. You can set your camera to automatic; reheat processed food in a microwave; and have someone else decide things for you. I am sure its just as satisfying.

When I baked some bread to share with people someone had mentioned can’t you just bake some bread that won’t take so much time and effort? I could, but it wouldn’t be worth waiting for; even though it would take just a fraction of the time. There would be no aroma or flavour. It would lack . . . character. I don’t want to make things or serve something that was easy and quick. Anyone can do that. I’ll do special. I want to do things that show some effort, skill, and respect. I knew this person did not mean anything in a bad way, but he couldn’t understand why I would take so many steps, and wait so long. But when I serve you something that looks like this . . .

. . . and it smells amazing. Then you will know why I took the time. I don’t want the fast and easy way. Things that are convenient. I don’t want something instant made by someone else. With inferior ingredients. A life without quality. This way you are able to present to people with a sense of pride. Why not present people with something different; something they can’t get just anywhere. Showing you care shouldn’t be a lost art. There should still be things worth waiting for. I kind of miss the waiting to see whats on the roll of film. Maybe thats why I like baking bread. Waiting to see if that magic moment happened. Did all my time and care turn out right? Fewer and fewer know of this.

Oh, that reminds me. I still have some homemade ice cream in the freezer . . . see ya!