Composting and Other Experiments

Now that you are here, let’s first make sure that you read it right. The word is Composting and not Composing. If you are interested in composing, I highly recommend my friend Kulpreet’s blog, where hymn and humor coexist in Raga-ish harmony. This blog on the other hand is designed to stink a little.

The agri-cultural marker is sewn into my DNA but other traits are acquired ones. I say “Neither” when asked “Paper or Plastic” at the grocery store. I only consume locally manufactured beers just to reduce the fossil fuel consumption from transportation. And some days when eco-bio rhythms are at their crests, some of us, self-proclaimed quasi-environmentalists, pedal our bicycles to the mother-ship a.k.a New Belgium Brewery and demand free samples of carbohydrate rich replenishers.

In my 40s, I am beginning to experiment with activities more in tune with my advancing age, mellowing temperament and painfully screaming joints. First wave of resistance to my changing persona comes from a domestic front. I hadn’t even started relishing my first effort to reduce my large “carbon foot print” when the “S” words started flying around the house. What is this SH**? Oh, look the mess you have created with this eco Sh**? If you ever put a brick in the tank to convert the toilet to a low flow toilet, you better sleep with one eye open, for same brick could be used for beat this eco-Sh** out of you. Well, domestic ecology is a very dangerous battleground. Some enemy snipe-r fire is expected. I decided to take my carbon reduction war outside, to my backyard.

Only people whose salaries have kept up with the price curve of organic tomatoes are members of the US house and senate. Even Indian legislators are not far behind either. Parliament members just approved a gigantic salary raise for themselves. What was a common man like me to do but take matter in one’s own hands. First idea was to cordon off and convert a corner of the yard to vegetable patch. The American handy man’s Mecca, Home Depot, happily estimated that the cost of bricks etc. to create this would be about thousand dollars. Yes, $1000. Apparently they had just incurred an expense of $150 million to pay severance package for firing their unwanted CEO, and were in for a quick recovery. So I went with pots, old plastic buckets, half drums and a used laundry basket to balance a part of my food chain. Many of my well meaning friends have been trying to change my food chain and convince me to convert but I am sticking to my vegetarianism. Vegetarians live longer, though death from hunger remains an ever present possibility. Only moral supporter in this quest: Chicken. Yes, Chicken, a noveau herbivore’s dilemma and a carnivore’s burden (my brother’s vision of avian world is much more altruistic than my vision of his). Chicken, an animal which is eaten both, after it is born and before it is born (my knowledge of biology is rudimentary but Eggs are unborn chicken. Compassionate Conservatives: Please take note). In my homeland of Punjab, Chickens have come to terms with the fate of their lot. When they come across a Punjabi in the early evening hours with a bottle of ਰਸ ਭਰੀ (honey-ful), they lay down their arms (or is it legs) and surrender unconditionally. They know that statistics is against them.

Produce in year 2010 has been plenty. ਟਮਾਟਰ, ਬੈੰਗਨ, ਮਿਰਚਾਂ, ਪੁਦੀਨਾ, ਖੀਰਾ, ਸ਼ਿਮਲਾ ਮਿਰਚਾਂ, ਪਾਲਕ ਤੇ ਏਸ਼ੀਅਨ ਜੜੀ ਬੁਟੀਆਂ (Tomatoes, Eggplant, chili pepper, mint, cucumber, red and green bell pepper, spinach and asian herbs). Tomatoes and chilies came at such a high rate that I had to expand my cooking regimen beyond Indian delicacies of ਬੈੰਗਨ ਦਾ ਭਰਥਾ (Eggplant Bhartha) and ਪੁਦੀਨੇ ਦੀ ਚਟਨੀ (Mint chutney). Only when you get to taste the Eggplant parmesan (Italiano) made with ingredients from your own yard, you realize why Mafiosi do not visit Olive garden. And when nothing else, tomatoes and chilies can be turned into Salsa (Mexicano), which goes really well with chips and home made Margaritas. And all this gastronomic gratification created a problem of food peelings (plus already existing weekly lawn mowing waste), which brings us to the experiment of Composting. Compost, which literally puts culture into agri-culture. For some of you, the word Compost evokes memories of ਢੇਰ, those scenic dung piles dotting the ਫਿਰਨੀ (boundary walk) of many Punjabi villages. But we are talking about Urban American composting here, a highly scientific and controlled experiment. A small deviation in experimental parameters, and you might be the subject of neighborly lawsuit accusing you of causing massive olfactory trauma. A well done compost has the odor very similar to the odor of earth, right after the first rainfall.

A "Composter" could have been immortalized by Asa Singh Mastana and Surinder Kaur with their rendition of ਭੈੜਾ ਕਮਪੋਸਟੀ (Naughty Composter) but music executives decided that ਭੈੜਾ ਪੋਸਤੀ (Naughty Idiot) represent a much larger market segment. Making compost is very similar to making yogurt, one needs a really good ਜਾਗ (culture) to start it. And hence, I enlisted the help of a rancher friend, who lives just across the Colorado border, in Wyoming [State of Wyoming: Where men are men, and Sheep are scared!]. As I tried to sneak a precious package of ultra-fresh horse “Culture” into my backyard, there came another round of sniper fire, “Ah, Are you on your way to become a net receiver of sh** rather than the usual deliverer?”. I tell you folks, we the loners, tree hugger types, get no respect, no respect whatsoever. However, not all is bad. My friend’s young daughter saw me tending to my green tomatoes. Taking pity on her dumb looking uncle, she walked up to me and decided to pass off some wisdom, which she must have picked up from some careless adolescent.

“Uncle, Do you know why tomato turned red?”
“No, Why?”
“Because he saw Salad dressing.”

That one moment of unadulterated avuncular joy itself was worth all the sniper fire and some more.

As winter is coming around, we humans take out our warm clothing, but plants look all confused and scared. Perhaps they don’t understand why is sunlight suddenly decreasing, why nights are colder. I can get them through another few weeks by covering them up with cloth sheets and then another week or so by moving them indoors, but it is winter of their short and productive lives. I am beginning to believe that those lines on the faces of my farmer friends are not all economic, some of them are from an inexplicable attachment.

A few pictures ਸਾਲ ੨੦੧੦ ਦਿਆਂ ਸਬਜੀਆਂ (Vegetables from year 2010)