John Medina’s “Brain Rules for Baby”

The brain’s day job is not for learning

First, I need to correct a misconception.  Many well-meaning moms and dads think their child’s brain is interested in learning. That is not accurate.  The brain is not interested in learning. The brain is interested in surviving. Every ability in our intellectual tool kit was engineered to escape extinction. Learning only exists to serve the requirements of this primal goal. It is a happy coincidence that our intellectual tools can do double duty in the classroom, conferring on us the ability to create spreadsheets and speak French. But that’s not the brain’s day job. That is an incidental byproduct of a much deeper force: the gnawing, clawing desire to live to the next day. We do not survive so that we can learn. We learn so that we can survive.

This overarching goal predicts many things, and here’s the most important: If you want a well-educated child, you must create an environment of safety. When the brain’s safety needs are met, it will allow its neurons to moonlight in algebra classes. When safety needs are not met, algebra goes out the window.


Anger Management

Well, at 2 years old, there seems to be something of a daily roller-coaster ride between cuddling in mama’s arms, and running as fast as she can towards the busy street (despite my screams for her to stop).  Have mercy.  I’ve come to expect the split personality – “no I don’t want that, take it away” followed immediately by “it’s MINE, you cannot have it”.

She is a passionate one, bellowing out her thoughts with such fervor, someone in earshot might think she’s protesting.  Her fury has the same intensity. We’ve started a mini collection of drums and noise makers to go to when we “need to bang” on something. When she is having a moment, I suggest she choose a drum to “bang on until you feel better”.  I act it out sporting a mad face. Between my looking silly impersonating a mad toddler, her feelings being acknowledged, and an outlet being offered, the drums haven’t been needed to diffuse the situation (yet).


4th of July with Pastrami Smoked Turkey

“Turkey?!?” I gasped when the idea of a 4 July BBQ was tossed around.  But as a practical matter it made sense.  With the fields beginning to show abundance, this is a time to make space in the chest freezer.  Farmer Martha had a bird stashed away and so why not?

And then again, Benjamin Franklin had argued for the turkey as the symbol of the United States: “For my own part I wish the Bald Eagle had not been chosen the Representative of our Country. …For the Truth the Turkey is in Comparison a much more respectable Bird, and withal a true and original Native of America…He is besides, though a little vain & silly, a Bird of Courage, and would not hesitate to attack a Grenadier of the British Guards who should presume to invade his Farm Yard with a Red Coat on.”

So maybe turkey really does belong on the 4 July menu, but roasting was out of the question.  This is grill season.  Smoking the whole bird seemed a savory solution and – never having tried anything like this before – I adapted two recipes from Steven Raichlen’s “Barbecue! Bible”.

Not being sure the weight of the bird, I mixed up a pastrami dry rub by taking:

6 Tablespoons coriander seeds

Toast them and then grind coarsely in a mortar and pestle or coffee grinder, and combine with:

6 Tablespoons cracked black peppercorns

12 cloves garlic, minced

1 Tablespoon yellow mustard seeds, toasted

1 Tablespoon ground ancho chili

1/2 Cup kosher salt

1/2 Cup brown sugar

1/2 Cup sweet paprika

2 Tablespoons ground ginger

Mix the ingredients well, and then cover the bird completely, including beneath the skin on the breast, with the rub.  Wrap the turkey and let it cure for 24 hours.

Before smoking, mix up an injector sauce using:

1/2 Cup chicken broth

3 Tablespoons butter

2 Tablespoons lemon juice

1 Teaspoon of the pastrami rub

Put everything in a sauce pan and heat just until the butter melts.  Then using a kitchen syringe, inject the turkey at the drumsticks, thighs, and three or four places on both breasts.

I don’t have a smoker, and in a fit of frugality years ago I purchased the 18.5″ Weber Grill instead of the larger model.  Today, the size really made a problem as the bird just was too big for the indirect smoking set-up.  The bird was too close to the coals

and the top wouldn’t fit.  So I tried to adapt with foil.

The apple wood smoke was intense and the air flow too great.  The temperature roared.  After 45 minutes I opened the lid and the side closest to the flames was getting charred.  Egads!  I finished it in the oven at 350 degrees for about one and one-half hours, until the internal temp was 175.

I am hoping that the injector sauce helped keep it from drying out but I won’t know how it all turned out until the picnic.


Strawberry Ice Cream

This recipe comes from Alice Waters’ “The Art of Simple Food” and makes about 1 quart.  In a small bowl, whisk briefly, just enough to break up:

3 egg yolks

Measure into a heavy-bottomed pot:

3/4 Cup half-and-half

1/2 Cup sugar

Heat the half-and-half over a medium heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar.  When hot, whisk a little of the half-and-half into the egg yolks – this is called “tempering” the eggs – and then whisk the warmed yolks back into the hot mixture.  Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture thickens and coats the back of the spoon.  Do not let it boil.  Remove from the heat (you can strain it, but I never bother) and add:

3/4 Cup heavy cream

Cover the mixture and chill.  Meanwhile, wash, dry and hull:

3 Cups fresh picked strawberries

Mash, and then add:

1/4 Cup sugar

A dash of lemon juice

Let the strawberries macerate in their own juices, stirring occasionally, until the sugar has melted.  Add the berries to the cold cream mixture and flavor with:

A couple drop of pure vanilla extract

A pinch of salt

Chill thoroughly, then freeze in an ice-cream maker.

This recipe will work with any berries, and you could add or substitute peaches and nectarines.


“…the softly focused gaze of Pissarro…”

Our friend Dave Hopkins sent a note of encouragement and his comments on Camille Pissarro struck a chord.  Dave lives along the watershed of the Deerfield River in Western Mass.  His footprint is light: solar panels on the barn, on sunny days, generate more power than they consume – they are feeding back into the grid – and the humanure is composted into fertilizer, amended back into the soil to nourish the vegetables, and in turn the animals and humans.  It’s an integrated set-up.  His work with the land has inspired us as much as the ideas he has passed our way.  By his permission, we post his comments here.  On a note of serendipity, this work by Pissarro, from 1886, is titled “Apple Picking.”  That works for us.
“Good to hear from you!  I read some articles in your blog and found it very interesting indeed. Love what you and your family are doing to raise your own food.
I’m musing on an article now on Camille Pissarro, the Impressionist painter and anarchist who had a immense passion for agriculture and rural life. Saw a wonderful exhibit of his work at the Clark in Williamstown, MA, and I strongly recommend it if you come to Western Mass. this fall. It runs to Oct. 2. I realize that what you’re doing is, on the surface, different, but Pissarro believed that modern industrial civilization would collapse and we would return to a living, local, agriculturally based economy, without hierarchy and without a central state. I’ll be talking about how the softly focused gaze of Pissarro was a kind of revolutionary act, rejecting the eye-intense, hyperfocused, hypercontrolled  mindset of modern Western civilization. These farm workers have a quiet dignity and are one with the earth.
All the best in your endeavors!
Dave”

Late June


Ananda K. Coomaraswamy: “A Figure of Speech or a Figure of Thought?”

“Plato, for example, remarks that ‘the expert, who is intent upon the best when he speaks, will surely not speak at random, but with an end in view; he is just like all those other artists, the painters, builders, ship-wrights, etc.’ and again, ‘the productions of all arts are kinds of poetry, and their craftsmen are all poets,’ in the broad sense of the word.  ‘Demiurge’ (demiourgos) and ‘technician’ (technitnes) are the ordinary Greek words for ‘artist’ (artifex), and under these headings Plato includes not only poets, painters, and musicians, but also archers, weavers, embroiderers, potters, carpenters, sculptors, farmers, doctors, hunters, and above all those whose art is government, only making a distinction between creation (demiourgia) and mere labor (cheirourgia), art (techne) and artless industry (atechnos tribe).  All these artists, insofar as they are musical and therefore wise and good, and insofar as they are in possession of the art (evtechnos, cf. entheos) and governed by it, are infallible.  The primary meaning of the word sophia, ‘wisdom’ is that of ‘skill,’ just as Sanskrit kausalam is ‘skill’ of any kind, whether in making, doing, or knowing.”


Wicked and Wonderful Strawberry Pie

Back in the corn-belt, the measure of a strong crop was corn “knee high by fourth of July.”  In these parts, folks measure and mark by the ripening fruits and this is the time for strawberries.  June’s full moon was, after all, the Strawberry Moon.  Along the coast, the berries have come ripe and the fields opened this morning.  By chance, we were the first ones to arrive and picked about 6 quarts.  E ate handfuls and was very happy.

About one hour inland the berries were ripe almost two weeks ago.  Farmer Martha has gone picking several times.  On one trip she hauled out 48 pounds.   By her permission, we are posting this recipe for a quick and easy summer treat.  The strawberry filling comes from her memory, while the nut crust comes from Martha Stewart’s “Pies & Tarts.”

For the crust, preheat the oven to 350 degrees, butter a pie pan and into a food processor put:

5 oz toasted almonds

Pulse until they are finely chopped, but not to the point of almond butter.  Then combine in a bowl:

2T + 2t granulated sugar

1.5 Cup All Purpose Flour

Add the flour-sugar mixture into the processor and pulse, and then pour into the processor, through the top:

½ Cup unsalted butter, melted

Pulse just until the dough comes together.  Then roll out the dough, nip and tuck to fit into the buttered pan, and bake for 20 minutes or until golden brown.  Remove from the oven and let it cool.

Into the cooled crust slice lots of berries, until the crust is about, say, one-half full.  If you like, add in some ripe mangoes.  In the processor, combine and macerate:

a good handful or two or three of fresh strawberries,

1/3 Cup granulated sugar (or to taste)

3T corn starch

Put all this into a saucepan and heat until it thickens, stirring often.  Pour the macerated berries over the sliced berries and chill.


Feeding the Chickens


What is an Art Farm?

These days with lots of attention to localvore culture, “know your food, know your farmer,” food politics, etc, the link between art and agriculture seems less often explored, rarely celebrated.  We began musing on this theme in ’01 while living on Chicago’s North Side (population density of >4,500 people per square mile) and later in ’06 when we settled in Maine (population density of 41 people per square mile).  Big change in surroundings.  No change in interest.

Along the way we heard about Farmer John at Angelic Organics, about the folks at the Wormfarm Institute (two sculptors who left Chicago to farm in southern Wisconsin), and the Bread & Puppet Theatre that ends each performance by sharing with the audience bread made by the cast and crew.  Nance Klehm, a farmer, forager, social ecologist and good friend, in ‘08 taught a class at the UCLA School of Art on the topics of: “place and participation (or which of these bugs are edible?)/cultivating knowledge, participation, food in the age of monoculture/practical and critical processes for the hungry, lost and restless.”  A Google search now brings up numerous sites under the term “art farm.”

Something is up.  And still it is hard to wrap our mind around what is an art farm.  More readily, we can say what it is not: neither a “get big or get out” USDA sanctioned operation, nor the world of Art as an insurable, bankable asset.  But that doesn’t tell us much.  Stating the affirmative, we could say this is equal parts “Cheap Art Manifesto” (see blog of 19 May) and a hands-in-the-dirt connection to the earth and ourselves.

Art-making is a behavior.  Hard-wired into our DNA, it is a biological inclination.  In a nutshell, this is the argument put forth by Ellen Dissanayake in her book What Is Art For?: “My own notion of art as a behavior…rests on the recognition of a fundamental behavioral tendency that I claim lies behind the arts in all their diverse and dissimilar manifestations from their remotest beginnings to the present day.  It can result in artifacts and activities in people without expressed ‘aesthetic’ motivations as well as the most highly self-conscious creations of contemporary art.  I call this tendency making special and claim that it is as distinguishing and universal in humankind as speech or the skillful manufacture and use of tools.”

What if art-making is not an attribute of society, but antecedent to society.   Could it follow, then, that agriculture emerged as a “making special” adaptation?  Are we putting the horse before the cart?  These are questions we strive to grasp.

An art farm is about “place and participation” where obstacles become opportunities.  We live in a rented house in South Portland, Maine.  When our landlord said we could not have a garden, we made arrangements to plant a shared garden at the home where our daughter goes for day-care.  And from that place we are now harvesting greens that feed our family.  A few miles away, down by the Marsh, with Farmer Martha we are raising hens and, soon, broilers, and from the orchard, come autumn, again we will pick apples, press cider, make cobblers and applesauce.  With a lot of sharing and creativity we are making do with what we have.

And as we go forward, we will tell the tales, share the stories and paint the pictures here at our blog, while the answers work themselves out.  They always do.