0.00459 acres and some worms

It is an interesting time for the garden. As I've mentioned earlier, we made a plan and a schedule for every square inch of our 96 square feet at the Downtown Community Garden. So far it has all been going well, as our little piece of earth has transitioned from bare soil, to sporadic sprouts and seedlings, all the way to where we are today, with plants up in every single box. And as exciting as it is to watch each plant emerge from beneath the cover of the ground, exclaiming with delight at each new discovery, right now is so much better. Better, because it means we finally have something to eat!

Yes, these are the salad days of the garden. And I mean that in the most literal sense possible: we've been eating salad on a nearly-daily basis for about a week now with no signs of slowing! The master plan, drawn up in the dead of winter, called for planting a full bed each with spinach and lettuce, intending all along to replace them with peppers and zucchini once it's warmed beyond the leafy greens' happy temperature. We haven't reached that part of the growing season yet, though, so it means that every trip down to the garden results in a bag full of lettuce and spinach that seems to grow back almost as soon as it's picked. It's glorious! Last night we had lettuce-spinach salads with homegrown radishes, homemade croutons, and a hard-boiled egg. It was a delicious meal, and practically the only thing on it we didn't raise ourselves was the egg. We're planning to work on that part in the future, but we'll need a bit more land than we have in our little condo.

So things are going almost perfectly according to plan. The biggest concern I can dream up right now is if our heirloom "Slobolt" lettuce decides to keep producing into the summer and I have to choose between pulling our lettuce and planting our peppers or running the risk that the peppers don't have time to mature. Not exactly the worst problem to have, right? But we'll cross that bridge if and when we come to it.  For right now, nothing can throw the garden off track.

Unless...

Someone decides they no longer want to garden downtown, putting their plot up as available, while simultaneously we discover that there is a two (2!) plot per household limit. Saying yes to this was a no-brainer, but it really does put a kink in our plans. All the scheduling we've done, all the allocation of how many seedlings to start, was all done based on a 96 sq ft farm. How would we have planned differently if we'd known we had 192??? Things might have been laid out totally differently, but no sense in worrying about that now. Today's reality is we have the wonderful gift of an untouched 8x12 ft rectangle of garden.

And when I say untouched, I really mean untouched. There are literally trees growing in this plot. And weeds. Lots and lots of weeds. And something that looks like leeks, but honestly, I'm not really sure. So regardless of what we might or might not have planned to plant in this space, the plan from this point forward is pretty clear. Weeding. Pitchforking. Weeding. Adding compost. And more weeding. Then we can start thinking about what to plant here. Wednesday we headed down to at least get some of the big monstrosities out of the bed. It's still not perfect, but I think it's an improvement.

At present, and once we get the remaining weeds out, it's looking like this will be the Zink Square Footage vine patch. Zucchini will be relocated to this space, and we grabbed some Seed Savers Butternut Squash seeds. Despite never eating it as a kid, I've grown to really love Butternut Squash, so I'll be very excited to have some of our very own. Maybe throw in a couple of cucumbers or something, possibly some root veggies to help bust up the soil, and we're looking pretty good. Ideally, this will also, in part, become a garlic plot this fall. I can hardly think of a recipe that I cook that doesn't use garlic, so it would be a lot of fun to grow some of the more unique varieties in our plot.

Zink Square Footage is still pretty small, but we're expanding. We don't yet have 40 acres and a mule, but we do have 200 square feet, and a few thousand worms. If that's not a respectable urban farm, I don't know what is!

Monday (no, Tuesday) Morning Photo

It's been a pretty action-packed several days (hence the Monday morning photo being posted on Tuesday), but strangely few pictures were taken over the last 7 days.  In some ways that's not a surprise, since this little project was born of a desire to take more photos in the first place, and actually parse them for good ones before relegating them to the abyss of my hard drive.

There were so many activities over the weekend that would have been good photo ops, but it wasn't til Sunday evening that I actually took a photo.  Saturday morning we went to the farmers market, which is frequently picturesque, but we wisely opted to go during the heaviest rain and highest wind of the day ;) so our focus was much more on efficient shopping than photographing.  That afternoon we went to see my bro-in-law play his first game in the semi-pro baseball league he joined, but all the seats were behind a big chain link fence, and those kind of pictures almost never turn out.

But we also ended up making three trips down to our garden, so that's today's picture.  A worm's-eye view of our progress in one of the raised beds.  That giant tree in the foreground is a young broccoli, you can see some neatly spaced kale off to the left, all against the backdrop of our spectacularly climbing peas.

None of these guys are producing food just yet, but they're really starting to come along.  I thought the broccoli were doing pretty well under the grow light at home, but they have really taken off once they got into the ground and saw some real sunlight.  It should be another month or so and we'll hopefully be eating delicious broccoli we grew ourselves.  In the interim, we are feasting on the less photogenic but equally delicious lettuce, spinach and radishes that are starting to ripen.  I love our garden, and I kinda love this picture.  It really captures the magic in between seed and food - the incredible process that we have set into motion to generate food from the absolute basics.  That's a good feeling.

Monday Morning Photo Album

I realized recently that my blog doesn't have enough pictures on it.  I like to take pictures, but typically I'll just take them, upload them from the camera to the PC and leave them there without ever really looking at them again.  So, in an effort to take more and better sort my photos, I'll try to put one up here every week or so. I'm sure there will be plenty of opportunities to take some fun pics to share.

Also, though I took a photography class in high school, using a (non-digital) SLR, I typically just use a boring non-technical point-and-shoot these days.  I still remember things about film speed, F-stops and the like, but it's not a high enough priority for me to shell out the big bucks for an all-out digital SLR.  Just consider these weekly snapshots, then.

This weekend Stacia and I went to Honey Creek Resort in southern Iowa for a special geocaching weekend event.  I'll try to write a longer post about geocaching sometime, but for now I'll just say that this is from a morning hike to collect caches.  Despite how things may look in this shot, it was a really pleasant time.  The weather was cool, and there was a light misty drizzle in the air.  It seemed no one else wanted to brave the elements, so we had the trails (and the caches) all to ourselves.  This particular picture is from a lookout point toward the bay on Rathbun Lake where the resort is situated.  Out through that inlet is the main lake; I kept looking for some fog out there but I think all the gray was just the color of the expanse of sky and water.  It was a great and action-packed weekend overall, but for this moment everything was just quiet, relaxing and serene.

How Do They Do It?

By 1:30, when the last couple finally walked out the door, I was beat.  My feet were aching, my back was sore, and I felt like I wanted nothing more in the world than a good long nap.  I looked around at my comrades and saw the same flushed face and sweat-mopped brow that I'm sure I exhibited, and the same torpor I felt through my body.  I'd been awake for only 5 1/2 hours, we'd been open for just 2 1/2, yet I felt more exhausted than any 8+ hour day at the office.  And even more draining - we were, at best, only half done.  As each dish, fork or glass had arrived in the sink over the past 200 minutes or so, its insipid clunk or grating chime just said that we'd be cleaning up for that much longer afterward.  As a group, we trudged back to the kitchen, while I just thought to myself, 'how do people possibly do this for a living?'

I'm certain that almost everyone, at some point, has entertained the notion of opening a restaurant.  I myself have seen my fair share of restaurants open and, just as quickly, close in the hands of those who thought it would be easy.  There are statistics that say restaurants are among the most likely-to-fail business ventures one can start.  And still, there's the allure of it all.  Going out to eat is such a magical experience: sitting in plush comfort while others tend to your every need, sampling exotic foods you've never had before, dining in pleasant company but not needing to clean up afterwards - as a people, we love our restaurants.  So once you learn how to cook, it's not that big a leap from making your first pot of spaghetti to dreaming of one day providing epicurean delights to others for huge sums of money.  That's even how it looks on TV, with the glut of cooking-based reality shows.  As is often the case, though, reality is not quite as easy, glamorous, or (financially) rewarding as we all like to hope.

Not that reality and I were all that well-acquainted prior to this past weekend, when my Mother-in-law invited my wife and me to help out in her old cafe for a one-off Mother's Day lunch.  I thought, 'I love to cook; let's do it.  It will be fun!'  We piled in the car, and drove the familiar 3 hours to small-town Edgewood, arriving at Cafe Rose at the end of the one-block business district in the charmingly restored former bank building.

Friday night was spent relaxing, then Saturday came with the promise that we'd "be cooking 'til midnight."  I naively laughed it off, thinking instead of what to do with all our free time after we were prepped.  Then that pesky reality started to show up and remind me that running a restaurant is actually a lot of work.  We needed to make 12 pies from scratch, plus 5 salad options, while my Mother-in-law cycled countless chickens through the ovens, prepping, cooking and breaking down each one.  When 11 PM rolled around and we were still working, I begged my way into a quick respite at the local watering hole two doors down.  And then it was off to bed to rest prior to the big event.

Like the bum that I am, I slept in until after 8, while Stacia and her Mom were hard at work downstairs.  I joined them for the remaining prep, working in the kitchen as the clock ominously ticked closer to opening time.  Our first customers walked in, and we all scattered to our various tasks.  Stacia cheerfully took their order, her sister dished up salads, her Mom plated the main courses, and I helped where possible while finishing a little last-minute chopping.  Piece of cake.  But then more people came.  And more.  And even more.  Soon our carefree little ensemble was in full-fledged organized chaos.  Stacia still handled the waiting and her Mom retained control of the mains, but besides that, no one really had any stations, as we all flew about the kitchen, prep area and dining room, handling whatever task needed attention.  Speaking for myself only, in those few hours I made and dished up salads, brewed and poured coffee, sliced and plated pie, ran orders to the dining room, bussed tables, chopped or faux-sous cheffed in the kitchen, was an overall go-fer, and washed dishes, depending on what the moment required.  And I was the least important/experienced person in the cafe, so I probably did less than any of the other three.

I won't bore you with how we made ourselves get up and do dishes (my least favorite part of cooking).  In the end, though, we did it.  We served lunch to about 30 people and I couldn't believe how tiring it was.  It was fun, too, but it's either a lot more work than I expected, or I've just grown soft in my years of sitting at a computer all day.  And that's just for one weekend of restaurant work.  People do this for 8 hours, every day, and in most cases do it for a paltry sum of money.  I have so much more respect for wait people, busboys, line cooks and chefs than I ever did - and this is from someone who already respected them quite a bit.  This past weekend I spent more time continuously working a kitchen than I ever have before, and I couldn't help but be amazed at how grueling it was.  Stacia's Mom has the kind of limitless energy for projects like this that means she can handle it, but for someone like me, who's lazy by nature, it was tough.

So why do it in the first place?  For some, it's just a source of money, from a skill they have.  For others it might be ego: I can cook better than the guys at the other restaurants.  But especially when you're at a place like the cafe, where food is made from scratch and not defrosted frozen glop like you see some other places, it has to just be for a love of the food.  I don't know what those 30 people would have eaten had the cafe not been open last Saturday.  I do know that in part due to my efforts, they got a handcrafted healthy meal.  I did that (Well, three other people and I did).  That's something that I think I can be proud of.  And not in an I'm-better-than-you kind of way, but just a feeling of satisfaction that I've provided something of value for other people.  Sure, airplane parts have value too, but not in the same innate, primal way as good food.  After just two days of it, I don't think I'll be opening a restaurant any time soon, but I in no way regret the hard work I put in.  My feet might have been sore and my back may have been aching, but I left Edgewood feeling pretty good about things.  I hope the people we served did too.

100!!!

At about 9:30 tonight, I will have been contributing to this blog for 2 years and 27 days.  I kind of celebrated the one-year anniversary of the blog, but today I'll reach an even more impressive milestone.  This marks the one hundredth post on Zinkthink.  Which, if we do the math, means that I've averaged one post every 7.58 days.  Not too bad, about once a week, but I really didn't care about that when I started this entry.  I suppose on some level I truly am an engineer, cuz I saw two numbers and pretty much needed to do some math to them to be happy.  :)  Getting back on track, this is my one hundredth post!

To celebrate, here's a picture I found of a dinosaur wearing a hat:

Interestingly enough, I did a google search for "dinosaur wearing a party hat" and ended up with this image, so apparently someone out there is throwing really classy dinosaur parties.  Fancier than any that I go to anyway.

So, 100 is a pretty big deal.  I actually stressed just a little bit, trying to think of something really fun and exciting to do for the hundredth post.  I jokingly suggested that I'd have a contest for the best comment, with a really great prize, but I figured that would just sound desperate.  I considered having a retrospective of some sort, maybe a "100 things I learned in this blog."  But when I thought about it, that's really what each individual post was about.  Each one represents my thoughts at a particular moment in time, and what I had learned or wanted to share about them.  Going back and rehashing them all would be redundant.  And lastly, I thought about having something totally whimsical, just so I wouldn't have to worry about having something profound.

(So far you have a "borrowed" dinosaur picture and me rambling.  Not a great bargain at this point.)

In the end, I think a post like this is pretty appropriate.  I need to be less list-obsessive in the first place, so putting up a 100th entry that had no more overarching value than any other post is probably a good thing for me.  And going back to the genesis of this whole blog, the inspiring quote that "even a column should have a point," this post fits perfectly as it has none.  Now that I'm over the hump of 100 with this filler post, I can get back to what I want to write about without any milestone hanging over me: stuff like cooking, movies, and the various adventures in the life of a guy playing an engineer.

Snark aside, I would like to thank the people who read this blog.  I often joke that I write about a thousand words a week so Stacia can read them, but then I'll find myself surprised by just how many people in my life are aware of my little online home.  I started writing as a mental escape of sorts, but it's fun to know that it's also a way that my family can keep up with what I'm doing or what's on my mind.  My Elgin family, my Edgewood family, and even my little Des Moines family - this whole blog is for you, so thanks for reading.  Any time I think about quitting this site, someone will say something like "it's been a while since you've blogged," just out of the blue, and I think there might be some value to it after all.

Cheers, everybody!  Here's to another hundred posts.

Champagne?  Don't mind if I do...  ;)

That Sinking Feeling

Note: This post is purposely vague in many places.  That's because it concerns an idea for a possible side business/hobby job thingy that I may one day pursue.  Family members will likely know what I'm talking about, but in case anyone else actually reads this, I'm still being secretive.  Sorry.

The other day, I woke up as usual, got dressed and popped on the morning news while I ate my cereal.  Thrown in between the weather updates and the non-stop Bin Laden is dead news, they threw in a quick teaser for a segment that would air that evening, about an unusual area start-up business.  A few words in to the promo, I stopped munching and muttered an expletive.  As the story continued, my heart sank into the pit of my stomach as I realized that I was conceivably witnessing the end of a far-flung dream of mine.

By day, I work in the aerospace industry, designing and validating airplane parts.  They either go toward allowing people to jet across the globe, or else "defending the homeland," a nice euphemism for military parts.  I prefer not to focus on obliterating desert countries halfway across the globe when I work on those.  If I were to describe my job, as a friend suggested, by explaining how I help people, I could say that I help people travel quickly and efficiently.  It's frequently challenging, and requires a unique set of skills that I've studied and trained for.  There are down days, but unless I'm being overly negative, it's a pretty good job.

But I've long felt that this isn't the only thing I have to contribute to the world.  It is certainly part of it, but as I've grown more aware of my interest in food, I've brainstormed a lot about what I could do on the side or in the future in that arena.  I've been slowly ramping up my knowledge and experience in both cooking and food production, so those are possibilities.  I also have been sporadically writing about food on this blog; in this information age, a more focused food site could be an option.  Or I could just, as many do, work a job that is by all accounts pretty decent, and spend my free time on food stuff that interests me.  I've bandied about concepts in all of these areas, but there's been one consistent front-runner that I always figured was the best idea.

Now, to be sure, it wasn't really a novel idea; there are people all over the globe doing what I had in mind.  But as far as I could tell, were it to get off the ground, it would be the first business of its kind in central Iowa.  I dreamed about it, but never really made any measurable progress.  And apparently while that was going on, another person in the area was making progress, since the news story showed them doing exactly what I'd thought about, right in my own backyard.  Talk about a kick in the gut.

I've gone through all sorts of reactions since that story aired, but they all fall into three categories; three paths forward from here.

1) Give up.  There are so many reasons this business idea would be hard to make work.  It takes expertise which I don't have, a bunch of land or building space, and a ton of start-up capital (which I sure don't have).  So it's easy to say that I couldn't have done it in the first place, and to simply let these others fill the niche.  But in a sense, that's just rationalizing.  I don't have expertise, but I sure could have started experimenting or researching instead of idly dreaming.  I don't have the space for it, but I could have looked into renting some, had I researched just how much I would need.  Same for money - I know it would take a lot, but can't quantify how much without having done research.  With research I could have looked into business loans or whatever, but this was always more convenient as a dream than a plan.  Regardless of all that, I could still let it go.  The local guy has land, and from the look of his setup on TV, has the money to have all new flashy equipment.  It would be hard to beat that, so I could just not bother.  Alternatively, I could...

2) Compete.  That's what America is all about, right?  If you want to sell mousetraps, build a better mousetrap than the other guy and go after him.  If everyone gave up just because someone else was in the market, it would be a very dire marketplace indeed.  I'm sure there were already burger joints around when Ray Kroc opened the first McDonald's, but he was able to compete directly against the others and has (obviously) thrived ever since.  Another benefit to letting others try first is to let them discover some of the pitfalls.  When I was touring an aircraft manufacturer in Kansas, I asked them about carbon-fiber composites, and the engineer replied that their company preferred to let their competitor do all the legwork, and they would pick it up if it proved viable.  At the time it sounded kinda scummy, but it does make sense in a way.  This business idea is a niche market, but I've got an ego just like anybody else, so why couldn't I do it better than the other guy?

3) Adapt.  This is probably the most likely scenario.  I'm not sure I can just give up on doing something related to food.  That Pandora's Box is open, and I realize food is my "thing."  But this business concept is only one way to approach such a broad topic.  Maybe instead of either giving up or going all-in, now is instead the time to retool and reconsider.  The same issues I had before the story broke are still there: I haven't done any research or preparation.  What I really need is to take some time, step back from the "holy s**t" emotion of seeing this news story, and figure out what I truly want to do.  If it really is to stick with my original plan, then I can go for it.  But there are a lot of ways to crack the nut of being passionate about food.  Producing it, preparing it, educating others about it - plus all the different subsets thereof.

I'll admit, I was incredibly disappointed when I saw the footage of smiling people doing what I'd imagined myself doing in some far-flung reality.  But I hadn't put in the grunt work to make that future happen yet, and I can hardly begrudge others jumping in where I haven't.  If nothing else, this has served as a good wake-up call.  If I'm serious about a food-based side job, don't spend two years just fantasizing about it.  Granted, even if I'd begun preparations two years ago, I probably wouldn't be ready to do anything on par with the new guy yet, but I would sure know which option above I should choose.  If two years had passed without positive progress, option 1 looks good.  If I've learned a lot and think I have a chance, go with #2.  Wishing for it isn't a strategy, and once I know what I want to do, it's not a path I'll plan to take again.  Cuz believe me, the reality check can pack quite a punch.

Postscript - I wrote this piece in pretty much the immediate aftermath of having learned about the guy in central Iowa starting up exactly what I wanted to try, so it may come off as slightly negative, and I think it really rambles a bit.  I don't think things are so dire as I may have made out in this article, though I still am a bit disappointed.  As implied above, I'll continue thinking about food and cooking on the side, and maybe one day it will be a career, but even that isn't as imperative as I've made out.  Sometimes I get this feeling that I have to make something out of all this, when I really should just chill out and enjoy it.  All that said, it's a few hundred words that I wrote and it's been forever since I've blogged, so I'm gonna post it anyway, even though I really don't like how it's written.  In the meantime I'll be happy to just keep cooking and growing.  :)