Better Off_ Flipping the Switch on Technology - Eric Brende [30]
But this didn’t necessarily rule out the possibility of some method of temporary cold storage.
Some Minimites had access to caves. Others could set their goods directly in a spring bubbling out of the ground. I thought of an economical way to simulate these natural phenomena: a smaller refrigerator powered directly by the sun, used only for the summer months. The solar cell would be most efficient precisely when the sun was hottest and the need greatest. It was a solution, theoretically, as natural in its own way as a cave or a spring. Most solar systems are unwieldy because long gray winters require a large bank of storage batteries. But a refrigerator wasn’t needed in cold weather. A summer storage unit, on the other hand, converted the problem into the solution.
The Minimites captured naturally occurring differences in temperature using a more traditional method: by harvesting winter ice from ponds and packing it in a shed. Using sawdust saved from the lumber mill, they tightly insulated the shed’s walls. Because the sawdust in the walls was so thick, and because there was so much ice inside, the ice was self-refrigerating. Hence the feat of ice cream on August evenings without an electric freezer. Merely a bit of winter trapped in a bucket. That’s conservation.
An even more enticing way to deal with the problem was to eliminate the need for food storage in the first place. The notion had little precedent among North American Old Order groups, so it was only when I stumbled onto the works of Eliot Coleman that I learned of the idea. In The Four-Season Harvest he argues that the life of vegetables in the ground can be prolonged during winter by using simple cold frames and movable plastic tunnels. Coleman distinguishes his method from greenhouses requiring expensive technology and heating fuels; rather, he proposes merely extending the life of crops already planted during mid- to late summer by cheap and easy means. Thus, instead of preserving winter for use in summer, he preserves summer for use in winter. And thus, instead of canning at the hottest, busiest time of the year, one may pluck leeks, kohlrabi, carrots, and mâche fresh for the supper table right out of the ground, just when one needs them.
Admittedly, none of these methods was available to us yet. But that didn’t prevent me from fancying them.
On a routine visit to the Minimite general store, Mary’s eye fell on something she hadn’t noticed before. Among the racks of homegrown herbs, cooking utensils, and kerosene lamp chimneys sat a cookbook written and published by the Miller daughters. She took it home and began thumbing through it. It was a comprehensive introduction to Minimite cuisine, relying mostly on locally available ingredients. She solicited some tips directly from the Millers themselves—whose resistance to her smile had by now collapsed—and began to compile more recipes from Carol and other neighbor women. She then quietly repaired to the kitchen.
Drawing from the mounting supply of summer squash we were canning, she soon presented a squash casserole, a crisp, piquantly seasoned tour de force. From the aroma alone, saliva gathered in the corners of my mouth. Corn casserole followed, timed with the arrival of corn picking. This dish was so mouthwatering that she still makes it for our dinner guests, and they always ask for the recipe (admittedly it does call for one package of Jiffy corn bread mix). Mary became quite handy with bread, and when we had non-Minimite visitors they begged for a baking lesson.