Used Food

Pugnaciously parsimonious.

Regular readers will remember that Rufus says I am a “c-h-e-a-p   b-a-h-s-t-i-d” so I also think long about what most things cost before buying.

I’m not the first in the fambly to have that trait. My great grandfather was a Quaker farmer who never threw anything away which largely explains the size of the moving van we needed when we moved to North Puffin. I really believe in reduce, reuse, and eventually, recycle.

My mom coined the term “used food” when the grocery store would mark down the day old meats in the refrigerated meat case. We’ve expanded its meaning.

Dented CanI see an upside down cake in my future.

SWMBO and I keep our own grocery bills as low as we can by shopping the used food store for dented cans. That emporium is a liquidation center that clears out “zoins” — the pallets of rejected non-perishables from grocery stores. My mom always worried that the dent could damage the can coating and at the very least change the taste of the contents. We’ve never had a problem.

There are some rules to follow with used food.

Bulging or bloated can?
What? Are you nuts? Cans bulge and bloat when bacteria outgasses.

Push on the top and bottom of the can
If the lid moves or pops, throw it out.

Rusted cans
Rust weakens the floor of Vermont cars and lets bad stuff in. Does the same for cans, doncha know.

The can sprays when you open it
A can ought not spray or explode when you open the lid with a can opener or screwdriver or Swiss Army knife. Safe dented cans will open the same as non dented cans.

Foods that have abnormal odors should not be eaten.


Lots of new laws went into effect in Vermont this summer.

I hadn’t realized just how just stupid Vermont lawmakers are. All food scraps must be recycled back into consumption by 2020. The best of my food scraps, after sitting on my summer porch, will help feed people, lawmakers say. Oh it’s good to be poor in Vermont.

Oh yeah, bags of trash cost an extra 25 cents to toss now, and bulk trash an extra $10 per ton. Canceling the fees for recycling is just the first step in an effort to keep everything that can be recycled or composted out of Vermont landfills by 2020, the goal of the state’s Universal Recycling law, Act 148. Mandated recyclables. (Sounds really good, except the trash haulers still pay for recyclables by weight.) Otter stuff. And this.

It is the policy of the state that food residuals collected under the requirements of this chapter shall be managed according to the following order of priority uses:
(1) Reduction of the amount generated at the source;
(2) Diversion for food consumption by humans;
(3) Diversion for agricultural use, including consumption by animals;
(4) Composting, land application, and digestion; and
(5) Energy recovery.

Back to the food on my porch. Our trash hauler retired (he didn’t want to buy a new truck to split recyclables) so we make a “dump run” every couple of weeks. In that time we fill two or three barrels with mixed recyclables and one large bag with household garbage. Uncooked chicken trimmins. The bones and skin of that small mouth bass. And the mouse I caught last Monday. Mmmm. Smells soooooo fine. Oh, my.

I good with #1. We do need to cut down on the amount of food we throw away. This is Vermont, for heaven’s sake. Thrifty farmers. Make do folk. And #3, #4, and #5 are great.

I may have to rethink this whole “used food” idea, though.

 

I Lurve My Tractor

Subtitled: And I’m pretty fond of my come-along.

I spent Friday cleaning out the cellar. It was sunny and pleasant outside and I need the space for a root cellar.

This house was built about 1855. We know it wasn’t here for the 1850 tax roles (the earlier farmhouse was listed) and we know it was in 1860. We also know it had a cellar because

Sunset on the (nearly) finished porchCellars in houses of a certain age are … interesting. This one starts with a dirt floor and a cistern.

I’m not sure exactly how many generations of the Stevens family worked this farm. Ira Allen first rented, then sold 180 acres to W.C. Stevens around the turn of the 19th century. He built the original house here on the rise where this house sits now. The original road from St. Albans to Canada came right past the front door and up across our driveway before heading north. The family tore down that first house but salvaged most of the lumber and the rubble stone foundation to build the house we live in today. They extended the foundation, doubling its footprint to build the new house with two wings, one brick, one frame. Its style is country Victorian.

One bequest in the family left “one bedroom plus full use of the cellar for storage” to the widowed Mrs. Stevens. She made good use of it.

We bought the house from the widow of a local judge who had in turn bought it from Mildred Stevens.

They made good use of the cellar, too.

It was sunny and pleasant outside so I spent the day cleaning out the cellar. Sheesh. Anne and I managed to haul out the 1950s frig that came with the house (we had put it down there and used it as our “second frig” until it stopped making cold), the freezer that froze up this winter, and a pair of water tanks one of which still had about 10 gallons of water innit.

The Great Tractor LiftI lurve my tractor. It’s a “compact,” meaning it fits in between the typical lawn and garden style and the heavy duty workhorses of the modern farm. With about 24 diesel horsepower, it could pull a two-bottom plow better than my Ford 9N and yet it’s small enough to fit most places. And it has a 54″ wide bucket.

Remember that size.

My original plan, conceived not while in the shower, was simply to reach in the cellarway with the bucket, strap the stuff to the bucket, and deadlift it straight out. Unfortunately, the doorway is 6″ narrower than the bucket.

Time for Plan B.

I used the 2×12 I otherwise use for a scaffolding plank as a ramp. My tiedown straps are missing again so I dug out the anchor rode from the boat and put a couple of loops around the frig and dragged it up the ramp with the tractor. Did the same with the tanks. The freezer, actually lighter than the frig, was harder because it wanted to stand up on its side instead of sliding on its lid. I pulled it with the comealong because that was easier than dragging down the 100 pounds of railroad chain so I’d have enough reach.

I lurve my tractor. The top photo is part of the porch I finished four years ago; the lower one is the tractor lifting plywood onto the rafters to finish the now-finished porch. You can see the cellarway bay framed by the bucket arms, to the right of the portico. Having that bucket didn’t just make these jobs easier. It made the jobs possible.

The final indignity of the cellar project was to haul all that stuff up to the truck for its last open air ride to Hodgson’s. I used the tractor bucket.

The whole job was still a lot of stairs and a lot of work but I now have a lot more open floor down there. Maybe I’ll build some more shelves…