1969 Karmann Ghia engine overhaul project, Part 1: I don't know I can't, therefore I can

 My 1969 Karmann Ghia, up on the ramps. Isn't she gorgeous?

A couple of weeks ago, my Karmann Ghia broke down while I was on my way to Portland. Fortunately it happened just as I was pulling up to the toll bridge on the west end of the Tacoma Narrows bridge, so I was able to get it out of traffic without much trouble. I happened to have one of my VW repair manuals with me, so I amused myself, during the 3-1/2 hour wait for the tow truck, by reading it and trying to figure out what had happened.

I'll skip over the troubleshooting process (you're welcome, gentle reader) and come right to the diagnosis: a thrown connecting rod. The oil cooler was leaking and definitely needs to be replaced as well, but the connecting rod is a bigger deal to repair. Not that I've ever done it myself, mind you, but I do realize that since the connecting rods (there are 4 of them in my Ghia) are inside the crankcase, it's going to take some work to get at the things to replace them. On the Ghia you can replace the oil cooler without pulling the engine out, but this is sadly not true if you are actually going to dismantle the engine.

A little background: I am not a "trained" mechanic, although I seem to have an aptitude for mechanical things. Virtually everything I know about working on cars I've learned by reading and practical experience. This is the second Karmann Ghia I've owned; the first was a 1970 coupe that I had for 11 years. I did a lot of work on that thing, including a complete re-wiring job. I also learned how to do things like adjust the valves and replace a muffler and heat exchangers.

I bought this 1969 specimen 5 years ago. It was in much better shape when I bought it than my 1970 Ghia was. Still, considering the car is almost as old as I am, naturally I don't expect it to never need work. On the other hand, in the 5+ years I've had it, it's only been in the shop once, for a leaking brake line, for which I spent about $125. I've been lucky enough to be able to deal with what few repairs it's needed, as well as the usual maintenance chores. This car has been super-reliable, it gets 31 mpg, and I just love her.

So, back to the current situation. While I was awaiting the arrival of the tow truck, I read through the entire procedure for removing, dismantling, mantling and re-installing the engine. At the end of it I thought, hey, why not? It would be a good time to learn, and who knows? It might even be fun!

At this point, I am just about ready to remove the engine. I've done all the electrical and mechanical disconnect stuff in the engine compartment. I've been under the car and disconnected the heater cables and fuel line, and removed the two lower engine mount nuts. Now I need to mount a piece of 2x4 with a couple of lengths of chain around the frame to support the transmission once the engine is detached. After that, all I need to do is take out the two upper mount nuts, and the engine should be ready to come out.

I gather the engine weighs around 200 pounds. I'm not going to be lifting it out of the engine compartment. Instead, I am going to block the car up a little higher than it is now on the ramps, and lower the engine with two scissors jacks onto a piano dolly. Then I can simply roll it out from under the car. (We put down a sheet of plywood under the back end of the car, so the dolly won't sink into the ground with that weight on it.)

Believe it or not, so far I have only spent about an hour and a half on this process. I can't help but think that if I can do this, anyone can. Yes, even women! I think it would be so great for women to be more actively involved in the maintenance and minor repairs of their cars; it's really not that scary. Actually I find it quite a confidence-builder. I'm a problem-solver kind of person, and I get a lot of satisfaction out of figuring things out and fixing them when I can.

Regarding the procedure for removing the engine, my Bentley VW manual says: "Some parts of this process may be difficult for a man working alone." Well, I guess it's a good thing that I'm not a man working alone, then.

My Ghia's license plate frame; words to live by, eh?

Update on distillery license process

In late January, while I was in the thick of finishing the first draft of my soon-to-be published book (Pure Poultry), I received an e-mail from an inspector at the WA State Liquor Control Board. The gist of the message was that the WSLCB is ready to grant me a Craft Distillery License, on one condition: That I submit a copy of my Federal Basic Permit.

Alas, I have not yet received this permit. Earlier in January, I received a packet of forms from the TTB (the Alcohol Tobbaco Tax & Trade Bureau, formerly the ATF). I had submitted a package of forms in December, thinking that I had completed all the forms needed for the Federal Basic Permit. I had dutifully downloaded and filled out every form that the TTB web site said was required for this permit. Still, according to the somewhat terse cover letter that came with this latest stack of forms, I apparently failed to provide quite a lot of stuff.

At the time, I really couldn't deal with it. David and I were both sick with a nasty flu, and I was trying to figure out how I was going to get my manuscript, the organic certification renewal, and my business taxes done by the end of January. So I put the whole packet aside and promised myself I wouldn't look at it again until I had turned in my book manuscript.

I turned in the manuscript on February 14. The same day, I finished my business taxes (the deadline was extended to the 15th because of a Dept. of Revenue mixup) and got that mailed. Then, and only then, did I turn my attention back to the government paperwork for my little distillery.

At this point, I am pretty sure I am done with all the required forms. Now I just have to make about a thousand copies of everything (some forms they want in duplicate, some in triplicate; I feel like sending them extra tax money this year so they can install their own copiers). They even want a photocopy of both David's and my driver's licenses. Oh, and a bond, believe it or not. Apparently someone has spent a lot of time figuring out ways to guarantee the government will still get its liquor tax money if my tiny, tiny distillery should go out of business.

That's about it for now. I will probably be using a week's worth of grocery money just to ship this massive package of forms, but I will do it. I am so close now to getting the license that I have been working toward since last November! More updates as they become available...

Getting in touch with my inner hillbilly

I suppose it was inevitable that we would be making whiskey. It couldn't possibly be coincidence that our property includes a large natural peat bog. Those of you who are partial to Scotch whisky will know what that means. The unique flavor of Scotch comes from two sources: the malted grain is dried over a peat fire, imbuing it with a slightly smoky aroma. Also, the peaty water from the bog is believed to add another layer of complexity to the flavor profile.

(If you've noticed two different spellings of "whiskey", give yourself a gold star! For reasons that remain unclear, this tipple is spelled "whiskey" when it comes from Ireland or the United States, and "whisky" when it's made in Scotland and Canada. So please resist the urge to e-mail me with your proofreading tips.)

So what, you may well ask, have we been waiting for? If we had started making whiskey the first year we were here, our first batch would be almost 7 years along by now. Actually, we talked about it from time to time, but for various reasons it didn't seem feasible. For instance, a few years back, the only license available in Washington State for distillers cost $2,000 per year. Now there are several options, depending on the size of the operation, whether the product would be sold wholesale or retail, etc. I recently applied for a Washington State "craft distillery" license, for which I paid $100. This license permits me to produce up to 60,000 GALLONS of liquor per year. As far as sales, I am allowed to sell only retail, the customer must purchase from the place of manufacture, and I can't sell more than 2 liters per customer per day. Oh, and I have to report sales monthly and collect and pay applicable taxes.

In case you weren't aware, there are actually two licenses required to legally distill liquor: The aforementioned State license, and the Federal Basic Permit. (Incidentally, if you think there is a lot of paperwork involved in organic certification, you'll be impressed by the Federal Basic Permit process.)

So far, so good. Actually at this point I have no serious thoughts about selling whatever booze we make. It's not as if I have full-time hours to put into this operation, and the still I'm building probably wouldn't produce 60,000 gallons a year if it was running 24/7. At the moment I'm fascinated by the actual distillation process (which involves a lot of science I never learned in high school), and certainly I'm motivated by the challenge of learning this craft.

Please note that I have no intention of producing moonshine. No self-respecting moonshiner would be caught with a license, for one thing. Also, my still is a high-separation fractionating type capable of producing vodka and gin; from all I hear, moonshiners traditionally prefer to take their chances with pot stills. These don't separate the components (some of which are poisonous) as well as fractionating stills. And frankly, I have not the least inclination to age my booze in Mason jars, tradition notwithstanding.

As my husband David says, when it all hits the fan, what everyone is going to want to know is, what are we drinking? (Those of you watching the Mayan calendar, keep in mind that there are only 26 shopping days until the end of the world on December 21.) Distilled liquor is high enough in alcohol to ensure that it will never go "bad." Homegrown food is all very well, but we're on the brink of raising the bar in our quest for greater self-sufficiency.

OK, now that you've read this far, I'll admit this was a little tongue in cheek. However, it is true that we will soon be running a licensed craft distillery. And since I recently started making my own tonic water, I figure if I can grow Key limes in my greenhouse, I'll be able to serve a truly homemade gin and tonic one of these days. So stay tuned for updates as we progress, plus photos and even a recipe or two. Cheers!

My first try at making a gluten-free sourdough bread

For a while now, I've been developing a gluten-free sourdough starter. I didn't even know if such a thing were possible. Not that considering possibilities (or lack thereof) ever stopped me from trying something new. I recently learned of Manini's, a Seattle company that makes several gluten-free bread mixes, as well as a fabulous gluten-free pasta mix. I bought a bag of "Rustic Multigrain" bread mix and decided to try using it as the base for a sourdough starter.

The reason why I went to the trouble of making the starter is kind of simple and kind of complicated. In one of my bread books (the one that goes into a lot of scientific detail about what makes good naturally fermented bread), I learned that certain kinds of acid have an effect on the starches in bread grains. This led me to wonder if the acidity of a sourdough starter might have a beneficial effect with gluten-free flours.

After almost two weeks of nursing the starter along, I decided that it was ready to use. The other day I mixed up enough dough for a loaf, adding about 1/2 cup of starter. I'm used to the long, slow, cool fermentation of true sourdough, and I let the dough rise slowly for about four hours at around 65F. (With any bread, you don't want it to rise too quickly before it goes in the oven; the yeast loses much of its rising power and you won't get the dramatic "oven spring" that characterizes good bread.)  Into the oven it went at 375F to bake for almost an hour.

 And here it is! Looks a lot like "regular" bread, doesn't it? It has a nice crispy, brown crust and delicious aroma. When it cooled I weighed it; 3/4 kilo (1 lb 12 oz). Definitely more substantial than most commercial gluten-free breads I've tried. I was good and waited for the bread to cool before I sliced into it, all the while wondering what the texture and flavor were going to be like. I could hardly believe that my first attempt would have good results, but actually it turned out really well. As you can see in the photo below, the texture is like "real" bread. It has an interesting flavor, being a combination of several whole and ground grains. I haven't tried it toasted yet but I suspect it will be even more tasty.

By the way, Manini's pasta mix is amazing. I mixed up a batch using our duck eggs, and made fettuccine noodles with it. At first it was a little tricky to put it through the rollers, but with every pass it held together better and got smoother. It cooked up in about 3 minutes and it was simply delicious. It looks, smells and tastes like, well, fresh pasta.

In case you're wondering, I'm not gluten-free myself, but my mother and a few other people I know are. We like to try to accommodate dietary preferences when we have guests, plus I think bread and pasta would be the two things I'd miss most if I were going gluten-free. And as you know, I love baking bread! I've had it in mind for quite some time now to try making a decent-tasting gluten-free bread, and thanks to Manini's, I think I've made a good start.

Behold the Canyon Creek Farms chili dog!

Chili dog with cheese and onions on a homemade ciabatta roll.

As you know, I've been working hard this year learning to make artisan-type breads, mostly the naturally leavened kind made with sourdough starters. One of the interesting breads I've been making lately is the Italian ciabatta. It's a challenging dough to work with as it's very wet: the baker's percentage is 85% hydration. After it's risen it literally pours onto your board for shaping; it's almost the consistency of pancake batter. The first time I made it I could hardly believe it was going to turn into something edible in the oven.

I first looked up this recipe (in Daniel Leader's book Local Breads) when my husband David asked me if I could make some hot dog buns. He had bought a package of kosher buns at a local natural foods store, and by the day after he brought them home, they were already visibly moldy. So on the spur of the moment, I thumbed through Local Breads and found the recipe for ciabatta rolls and decided to try it.

The soft, wet dough baked up, in 20 minutes or so, into lovely soft, moist, slightly chewy, open-textured buns. David likes Hempler's uncured hot dogs (no nitrates), which are pretty enormous, and I sized the buns to fit them. The really great thing, though, was that even when we piled on the homemade chili, grated cheddar cheese and onions, the buns didn't fall apart. This might have been the first time I ever ate a chili dog without having to resort to using a fork (or even a spoon). Oh man, was that ever good.

I've made these ciabatta rolls several times now, and they've been consistently delicious. And, kept in a Ziploc bag once they're cool, they stay fresh for 3 days (not that they last that long around here). 

I really do love baking bread, and David, who's very particular about bread being fresh, appreciates not paying premium prices for bread that's practically stale. I'm steadily working my way through pretty much the whole Local Breads book, so stay tuned for more of my baking adventures!

Getting the firewood supply in for the winter

The weekend before last was all about the firewood. David had amassed a huge pile of cut rounds out in the woods, and had begun hauling them by the truckload up to the woodshed near the main house. We cleaned out the woodshed, including raking out a layer about 8 or 10 inches deep of bark and wood chips that had accumulated over the past few seasons. Now all we had to do was start in on splitting and stacking.

On short notice, my sister Rebecca and her daughter Chaidie came up early on Saturday morning to give us a hand. A happy surprise was that she had brought along our brother John also. As the day was expected to get fairly hot, we decided to jump right in and get to work. John and David drove into the woods and brought loads of rounds, and in between loads, they both split most of the rounds with 6-pound mauls. Rebecca, Chaidie and I quickly figured out an efficient system for getting the split wood into the shed and stacked.

It actually turned out to work perfectly with 3 people. We were stacking wood on 3 sides of the shed, whose sloping roof is between 10 and 12 feet high. As the stack along the back wall grew to 6 feet or so, we started stacking a second row right in front of the back row. Once the second row was about 3 feet high, Chaidie stood on that row; then Rebecca would hand me a piece, I would hand it to Chaidie, and she would put it on the top of the back row. The second row was also important for stabilizing the back row; once the pile got to around 8 feet it could easily have started to lean forward. At times we had to think about when to start another row on the sides also. It was actually a lot of fun, as well as great exercise.

We worked that day for close to 5 hours, then had some lunch. Rebecca and Chaidie came back the next day, and Rebecca and I did quite a bit of the splitting that time, as well as stacking. When all was said and done, about 3 hours later, we had finished going through that huge pile of wood, and estimate that we have 5 or 6 cords in the shed. That's probably not enough to get through the winter, especially if it turns out to be the harsh La Nina we've been hearing about, but it's a really good start.

Thanks to Rebecca and John and Chaidie for all their help that weekend!

Try our homemade ginger syrup

I have been asked several times recently for my recipe for ginger syrup. This was another of those things that we came up with in our efforts to avoid products with high-fructose corn syrup (HFCS). A drink we both like is Canadian whiskey and ginger ale, and we had been buying Canada Dry ginger ale (the only soft drink we ever bought, as we're not soda drinkers) as a mixer. After trying two or three different "natural" ginger ales, we got a bit frustrated with not finding one that"0or remove ginger pieces from syrup. In the meantime, thinly peel and juice:

3 organic lemons (since you're using the peel, you really want to use organic lemons for this)

Divide the lemon peel pieces into 6 even parts. Strain the seeds from the lemon juice and add juice to the hot syrup.

I usually keep the canning jars hot by leaving them full of very hot water in the sink. Taking the jars one at a time, empty out the water and put one pile of the lemon peel in the jar. Using a canning funnel, fill the jar with hot syrup to within 1/4" of the top and seal with the canning lids and rings. Let cool completely on rack.

Suggestions for using ginger syrup

Canadian whiskey and ginger ale

1 shot Canadian whiskey
1-2 shots ginger syrup (2 if you like it sweeter)
About 3 ounces soda water

Variation: Try Canadian whiskey with hot ginger ale. Follow recipe above, substituting boiling water for the soda water, and serve in a mug. We love this on cold winter nights, and it's also great when you have a cold, sinus congestion, or flu symptoms.

Just plain ginger ale

2 shots ginger syrup
5-6 ounces soda water

You might also try drizzling ginger syrup over your fruit salad. And please, if you come up with any other ideas, do let me know. We love this ginger syrup, and I hope you'll try it. I suspect you won't miss the HFCS.