Grass clippings for dinner, anyone?

Every day my kitchen looks more like it belongs to some kind of health nut. There is alfalfa sprouting in the cupboard with the mugs (it has to be in the dark and there's no room anywhere else) There is sour cream culturing on the windowsill, purple sauerkraut and fermented pear chutney in the fridge and as of this evening there is a bucket of shredded silverbeet on the bench. (Actually it's balancing on the tray of newspaper wrapped free range eggs)

I was at the markets today and the silverbeet looked so glossy and crinkly I just had to get some. The few bunches I picked through all seemed to have, er, insect poo but I wasn't deterred and settled on a less toilet-y looking bunch. Once I started washing it all I found the culprit: a reasonably sized and very alive snail! blech. 

The shredded leaves have been salted to start drawing the juices out and tomorrow I will massage them and pack them into a fermenting jar. At this stage it smells like cut grass. Not entirely appetising, I might need to add some cabbage to soften it or maybe it will mellow overnight.

Away from the kitchen I have been developing a slow burning affair with sites where people give away their excess stuff: freecycle and it's upmarket sister, Tushare. It's an interesting world where a bunch of old rice bags are more in demand than a sofa. 

I have saved about a dozen of these bags because they are solid and even have a zip. I knew they had to be useful for something so when I heard about Tushare I offered the bags. They languished for a while but last night a lady from my own suburb joined the site and thought they would be perfect for her scout troop. She messaged about picking them up early this morning and I said I would put them outside. I wasn't in any kind of hurry because things usually sit out there for days but after a coffee and a shower I decided to get on with it and when I opened the door the lady was standing on the road counting houses in confusion! She was delighted to take them, stains, stray rice grains and all! Life seems utterly surreal at times.

“One sometimes gets the impression that the mere words ‘Socialism’ and ‘Communism’ draw towards them with magnetic force every fruit-juice drinker, nudist, sandal-wearer, sex-maniac, Quaker, ‘Nature Cure’ quack, pacifist, and feminist in England.” 
― George Orwell, The Road to Wigan Pier