Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

2 months ago

Zenola The best breakfast you can get out of a trash bag.

Zenola

The best breakfast you can get out of a trash bag.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2026/01/zeno...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitpractice, #recipe, #Zen

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

2 months ago

Zenola I brought rather austere food when I sat 100 Days on the Mountain. Lunch and dinner were an identical bowl of rice and beans, spiced up with hot sauce, and curried after about the midway point. I brought very little in the way of snacks or sweets. (I don't recommend this approach, by the way. An important practice point I learned out there is that discipline can be as egocentric and obstructive as indulgence. It's wise to keep your diet simple, wholesome, and habitual. It's unwise to eat like a zek.) But breakfast came from a large trash bag, and it's these morning meals I remember with the most nostalgic affection. Because from those unpromising origins rose each morning a braw bowl of zenola. Zenola is a marriage of trail mix and cereal developed in the months before I left, for the express purpose of launching each day of practice. The ingredients supply essential nutrients deficient or absent in my other staples. And the rainbow of bright colours and flavours is a proper party when you're living on rice and beans. The recipe is as follows: 30 lbs rolled oats (I like thick-cut the best) 1 1/4 lb powdered milk 3 3/4 lbs salted mixed nuts 1 3/4 lb each: cranberry raisins dried apples dried apricots, bananas, or other fruit 1 1/4 lb crystalized ginger (If you don't require a metric tonne of zenola all at once, you can reduce these quantities proportionally to get the amount you want.) At a cup a-piece, this comes out to about a third again more than 100 breakfasts, but when you're living alone it's a good idea to bring more food than you think you'll need. (And also to store it in several secure places.) I almost always ate this in cold water, but you can use boiling water for a soft and steamy bowl. I find rolled oats most satisfying uncooked, but once or twice, on biting cold nights when I needed encouragement, I rustled up hot zenola and tea by the light of my candle. Under the strict daily regimen, this stuff became such a treat that I used it as incentive, denying myself the pleasure if I rose too late. Other times it was a reward, to celebrate milestone days or cheer me up in bleak moments. In all of these occasions, zenola was hearty and sustaining, and excellent support for practice.

Zenola

The best breakfast you can get out of a trash bag.

https://rustyring.blogspot.com/2026/01/zenola.html

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitpractice, #recipe, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rustyring.universeodon.com.ap.brid.gy

2 months ago

Zenola I brought rather austere food when I sat 100 Days on the Mountain. Lunch and dinner were an identical bowl of rice and beans, spiced up with hot sauce, and curried after about the midway point. I brought very little in the way of snacks or sweets. (I don't recommend this approach, by the way. An important practice point I learned out there is that discipline can be as egocentric and obstructive as indulgence. It's wise to keep your diet simple, wholesome, and habitual. It's unwise to eat like a zek.) But breakfast came from a large trash bag, and it's these morning meals I remember with the most nostalgic affection. Because from those unpromising origins rose each morning a braw bowl of zenola. Zenola is a marriage of trail mix and cereal developed in the months before I left, for the express purpose of launching each day of practice. The ingredients supply essential nutrients deficient or absent in my other staples. And the rainbow of bright colours and flavours is a proper party when you're living on rice and beans. The recipe is as follows: 30 lbs rolled oats (I like thick-cut the best) 1 1/4 lb powdered milk 3 3/4 lbs salted mixed nuts 1 3/4 lb each: cranberry raisins dried apples dried apricots, bananas, or other fruit 1 1/4 lb crystalized ginger (If you don't require a metric tonne of zenola all at once, you can reduce these quantities proportionally to get the amount you want.) At a cup a-piece, this comes out to about a third again more than 100 breakfasts, but when you're living alone it's a good idea to bring more food than you think you'll need. (And also to store it in several secure places.) I almost always ate this in cold water, but you can use boiling water for a soft and steamy bowl. I find rolled oats most satisfying uncooked, but once or twice, on biting cold nights when I needed encouragement, I rustled up hot zenola and tea by the light of my candle. Under the strict daily regimen, this stuff became such a treat that I used it as incentive, denying myself the pleasure if I rose too late. Other times it was a reward, to celebrate milestone days or cheer me up in bleak moments. In all of these occasions, zenola was hearty and sustaining, and excellent support for practice.

Zenola

The best breakfast you can get out of a trash bag.

https://rustyring.blogspot.com/2026/01/zenola.html

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitpractice, #recipe, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

2 months ago

Zenola The best breakfast you can get out of a trash bag.

Zenola

The best breakfast you can get out of a trash bag.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2026/01/zeno...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitpractice, #recipe, #Zen

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

2 months ago

Zenola I brought rather austere food when I sat 100 Days on the Mountain. Lunch and dinner were an identical bowl of rice and beans, spiced up with hot sauce, and curried after about the midway point. I brought very little in the way of snacks or sweets. (I don't recommend this approach, by the way. An important practice point I learned out there is that discipline can be as egocentric and obstructive as indulgence. It's wise to keep your diet simple, wholesome, and habitual. It's unwise to eat like a zek.) But breakfast came from a large trash bag, and it's these morning meals I remember with the most nostalgic affection. Because from those unpromising origins rose each morning a braw bowl of zenola. Zenola is a marriage of trail mix and cereal developed in the months before I left, for the express purpose of launching each day of practice. The ingredients supply essential nutrients deficient or absent in my other staples. And the rainbow of bright colours and flavours is a proper party when you're living on rice and beans. The recipe is as follows: 30 lbs rolled oats (I like thick-cut the best) 1 1/4 lb powdered milk 3 3/4 lbs salted mixed nuts 1 3/4 lb each: cranberry raisins dried apples dried apricots, bananas, or other fruit 1 1/4 lb crystalized ginger (If you don't require a metric tonne of zenola all at once, you can reduce these quantities proportionally to get the amount you want.) At a cup a-piece, this comes out to about a third again more than 100 breakfasts, but when you're living alone it's a good idea to bring more food than you think you'll need. (And also to store it in several secure places.) I almost always ate this in cold water, but you can use boiling water for a soft and steamy bowl. I find rolled oats most satisfying uncooked, but once or twice, on biting cold nights when I needed encouragement, I rustled up hot zenola and tea by the light of my candle. Under the strict daily regimen, this stuff became such a treat that I used it as incentive, denying myself the pleasure if I rose too late. Other times it was a reward, to celebrate milestone days or cheer me up in bleak moments. In all of these occasions, zenola was hearty and sustaining, and excellent support for practice.

Zenola

The best breakfast you can get out of a trash bag.

https://rustyring.blogspot.com/2026/01/zenola.html

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitpractice, #recipe, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rustyring.universeodon.com.ap.brid.gy

2 months ago

Zenola I brought rather austere food when I sat 100 Days on the Mountain. Lunch and dinner were an identical bowl of rice and beans, spiced up with hot sauce, and curried after about the midway point. I brought very little in the way of snacks or sweets. (I don't recommend this approach, by the way. An important practice point I learned out there is that discipline can be as egocentric and obstructive as indulgence. It's wise to keep your diet simple, wholesome, and habitual. It's unwise to eat like a zek.) But breakfast came from a large trash bag, and it's these morning meals I remember with the most nostalgic affection. Because from those unpromising origins rose each morning a braw bowl of zenola. Zenola is a marriage of trail mix and cereal developed in the months before I left, for the express purpose of launching each day of practice. The ingredients supply essential nutrients deficient or absent in my other staples. And the rainbow of bright colours and flavours is a proper party when you're living on rice and beans. The recipe is as follows: 30 lbs rolled oats (I like thick-cut the best) 1 1/4 lb powdered milk 3 3/4 lbs salted mixed nuts 1 3/4 lb each: cranberry raisins dried apples dried apricots, bananas, or other fruit 1 1/4 lb crystalized ginger (If you don't require a metric tonne of zenola all at once, you can reduce these quantities proportionally to get the amount you want.) At a cup a-piece, this comes out to about a third again more than 100 breakfasts, but when you're living alone it's a good idea to bring more food than you think you'll need. (And also to store it in several secure places.) I almost always ate this in cold water, but you can use boiling water for a soft and steamy bowl. I find rolled oats most satisfying uncooked, but once or twice, on biting cold nights when I needed encouragement, I rustled up hot zenola and tea by the light of my candle. Under the strict daily regimen, this stuff became such a treat that I used it as incentive, denying myself the pleasure if I rose too late. Other times it was a reward, to celebrate milestone days or cheer me up in bleak moments. In all of these occasions, zenola was hearty and sustaining, and excellent support for practice.

Zenola

The best breakfast you can get out of a trash bag.

https://rustyring.blogspot.com/2026/01/zenola.html

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitpractice, #recipe, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

5 months ago

How To Sleep In The Woods There's a trick to it. And a lot of work.

How To Sleep In The Woods

There's a trick to it. And a lot of work.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2025/10/how-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #hermitcraft, #Zen

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

5 months ago

How To Sleep In The Woods _(This entry from myango log is a timely reminder of how difficult life was in the jungle during those first frigid, rainy months. I wrote this record down because I knew I would soon forget these hardships when I returned to the Red Dust World. Simple things aren't simple when you live outdoors. The brother who drove me out on the last day of ango also brought my camera so I could take some photos of the place where I'd just spent 100 days alone. By then it was late summer, so the rainfly was furled, revealing the door and mosquito netting of the walls behind it. Equally telling is the fact that the entire world is no longer dark and sodden, as it was when I wrote the following entry.)_ _BEDTIME ORYOKI:_ 1. Unzip the tent fly, then the tent door, just at the bottom, so as not to let bugs in, and slide the rolled blue foam mat, orange Thermarest, and journal case through the slit. 2. Zip back up, return to Tyvek [meditation shelter] and [secure it] for the night. (Mostly hanging stuff up and blowing out the candle after thanking it.) 3. Pee. 4. Lay [walking] stick outside tent door. Unzip the tent and sit in it with feet still outside on the ground. Take off the road [right] sandal, then the heart [left] sandal, and leave them outside, on the heart side, under the fly. 5. Brush off feet with gloved hands if wet, or by rubbing them together if not, and lift them into the tent. 6. Switch on the tent light and place it in the attic [small net hammock overhead]. Turn off the flashlight and store it there as well. 7. Pull the stick inside, clean off the [dirty] end, and lay it along the door sill. Zip up the door. 8. Take off specs and put them in the attic. 9. Untie the blue mat and unroll it along the door side, beside the stick. Store the tying string in the attic. 10. Reinflate the Thermarest and lay it on top of the blue mat, at [the] head end. 11. Spread the [sleeping] bag out on the mats, zipper to the heart (inboard) side. Spread the [cotton sleeping bag] liner on top of the bag. 12. Take off the [monk] robe and lay it next to the bedroll on the floor, interior down, knife [worn on the robe's belt] to heart side, mala [also on the belt] road side, collar headward. 13. Remove needed articles (hand sanitiser, toilet paper, gloves) from cargo pockets of trousers and lay them on the floor against the standing [back] wall, chest-high [when lying down]. 14. Take off trousers, roll them up, and place them on the rain poncho against the standing wall, at about knee height [when lying down]. 15. Roll up [a] pillow from un-needed clothes and other fabric items. Place at head-level, on heart side. 16. Remove underwear and place on trousers. 17. Snake into liner [first], and then into the bag. 18. Spread the robe over the sleeping bag as a blanket, interior down, collar at chin level. 19. Tuck robe's roadside hem corner, belt end, and sleeve under the blue mat (not the orange one), to keep it anchored during the night. 20. Mount night guard [a plastic device I wear at night to protect my teeth]. 21. Turn off the light, lie back, find and place pillow. And pleasant dreams. This process is very time-consuming. But there's no other way to do it so you meet all your needs: warm, dry, as comfortable as possible, properly positioned on the ground, able to find stuff you might need during the night, especially emergency stuff such as you might need during an attack of Giardia or something threatening outside the tent, like a bear.

How To Sleep In The Woods

There's a trick to it. And a lot of work.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2025/10/how-to-sleep-in-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #hermitcraft, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rustyring.universeodon.com.ap.brid.gy

5 months ago

How To Sleep In The Woods _(This entry from myango log is a timely reminder of how difficult life was in the jungle during those first frigid, rainy months. I wrote this record down because I knew I would soon forget these hardships when I returned to the Red Dust World. Simple things aren't simple when you live outdoors. The brother who drove me out on the last day of ango also brought my camera so I could take some photos of the place where I'd just spent 100 days alone. By then it was late summer, so the rainfly was furled, revealing the door and mosquito netting of the walls behind it. Equally telling is the fact that the entire world is no longer dark and sodden, as it was when I wrote the following entry.)_ _BEDTIME ORYOKI:_ 1. Unzip the tent fly, then the tent door, just at the bottom, so as not to let bugs in, and slide the rolled blue foam mat, orange Thermarest, and journal case through the slit. 2. Zip back up, return to Tyvek [meditation shelter] and [secure it] for the night. (Mostly hanging stuff up and blowing out the candle after thanking it.) 3. Pee. 4. Lay [walking] stick outside tent door. Unzip the tent and sit in it with feet still outside on the ground. Take off the road [right] sandal, then the heart [left] sandal, and leave them outside, on the heart side, under the fly. 5. Brush off feet with gloved hands if wet, or by rubbing them together if not, and lift them into the tent. 6. Switch on the tent light and place it in the attic [small net hammock overhead]. Turn off the flashlight and store it there as well. 7. Pull the stick inside, clean off the [dirty] end, and lay it along the door sill. Zip up the door. 8. Take off specs and put them in the attic. 9. Untie the blue mat and unroll it along the door side, beside the stick. Store the tying string in the attic. 10. Reinflate the Thermarest and lay it on top of the blue mat, at [the] head end. 11. Spread the [sleeping] bag out on the mats, zipper to the heart (inboard) side. Spread the [cotton sleeping bag] liner on top of the bag. 12. Take off the [monk] robe and lay it next to the bedroll on the floor, interior down, knife [worn on the robe's belt] to heart side, mala [also on the belt] road side, collar headward. 13. Remove needed articles (hand sanitiser, toilet paper, gloves) from cargo pockets of trousers and lay them on the floor against the standing [back] wall, chest-high [when lying down]. 14. Take off trousers, roll them up, and place them on the rain poncho against the standing wall, at about knee height [when lying down]. 15. Roll up [a] pillow from un-needed clothes and other fabric items. Place at head-level, on heart side. 16. Remove underwear and place on trousers. 17. Snake into liner [first], and then into the bag. 18. Spread the robe over the sleeping bag as a blanket, interior down, collar at chin level. 19. Tuck robe's roadside hem corner, belt end, and sleeve under the blue mat (not the orange one), to keep it anchored during the night. 20. Mount night guard [a plastic device I wear at night to protect my teeth]. 21. Turn off the light, lie back, find and place pillow. And pleasant dreams. This process is very time-consuming. But there's no other way to do it so you meet all your needs: warm, dry, as comfortable as possible, properly positioned on the ground, able to find stuff you might need during the night, especially emergency stuff such as you might need during an attack of Giardia or something threatening outside the tent, like a bear.

How To Sleep In The Woods

There's a trick to it. And a lot of work.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2025/10/how-to-sleep-in-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #hermitcraft, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

5 months ago

How To Sleep In The Woods There's a trick to it. And a lot of work.

How To Sleep In The Woods

There's a trick to it. And a lot of work.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2025/10/how-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #hermitcraft, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rustyring.universeodon.com.ap.brid.gy

5 months ago

How To Sleep In The Woods _(This entry from myango log is a timely reminder of how difficult life was in the jungle during those first frigid, rainy months. I wrote this record down because I knew I would soon forget these hardships when I returned to the Red Dust World. Simple things aren't simple when you live outdoors. The brother who drove me out on the last day of ango also brought my camera so I could take some photos of the place where I'd just spent 100 days alone. By then it was late summer, so the rainfly was furled, revealing the door and mosquito netting of the walls behind it. Equally telling is the fact that the entire world is no longer dark and sodden, as it was when I wrote the following entry.)_ _BEDTIME ORYOKI:_ 1. Unzip the tent fly, then the tent door, just at the bottom, so as not to let bugs in, and slide the rolled blue foam mat, orange Thermarest, and journal case through the slit. 2. Zip back up, return to Tyvek [meditation shelter] and [secure it] for the night. (Mostly hanging stuff up and blowing out the candle after thanking it.) 3. Pee. 4. Lay [walking] stick outside tent door. Unzip the tent and sit in it with feet still outside on the ground. Take off the road [right] sandal, then the heart [left] sandal, and leave them outside, on the heart side, under the fly. 5. Brush off feet with gloved hands if wet, or by rubbing them together if not, and lift them into the tent. 6. Switch on the tent light and place it in the attic [small net hammock overhead]. Turn off the flashlight and store it there as well. 7. Pull the stick inside, clean off the [dirty] end, and lay it along the door sill. Zip up the door. 8. Take off specs and put them in the attic. 9. Untie the blue mat and unroll it along the door side, beside the stick. Store the tying string in the attic. 10. Reinflate the Thermarest and lay it on top of the blue mat, at [the] head end. 11. Spread the [sleeping] bag out on the mats, zipper to the heart (inboard) side. Spread the [cotton sleeping bag] liner on top of the bag. 12. Take off the [monk] robe and lay it next to the bedroll on the floor, interior down, knife [worn on the robe's belt] to heart side, mala [also on the belt] road side, collar headward. 13. Remove needed articles (hand sanitiser, toilet paper, gloves) from cargo pockets of trousers and lay them on the floor against the standing [back] wall, chest-high [when lying down]. 14. Take off trousers, roll them up, and place them on the rain poncho against the standing wall, at about knee height [when lying down]. 15. Roll up [a] pillow from un-needed clothes and other fabric items. Place at head-level, on heart side. 16. Remove underwear and place on trousers. 17. Snake into liner [first], and then into the bag. 18. Spread the robe over the sleeping bag as a blanket, interior down, collar at chin level. 19. Tuck robe's roadside hem corner, belt end, and sleeve under the blue mat (not the orange one), to keep it anchored during the night. 20. Mount night guard [a plastic device I wear at night to protect my teeth]. 21. Turn off the light, lie back, find and place pillow. And pleasant dreams. This process is very time-consuming. But there's no other way to do it so you meet all your needs: warm, dry, as comfortable as possible, properly positioned on the ground, able to find stuff you might need during the night, especially emergency stuff such as you might need during an attack of Giardia or something threatening outside the tent, like a bear.

How To Sleep In The Woods

There's a trick to it. And a lot of work.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2025/10/how-to-sleep-in-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #hermitcraft, #Zen

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

5 months ago

How To Sleep In The Woods _(This entry from myango log is a timely reminder of how difficult life was in the jungle during those first frigid, rainy months. I wrote this record down because I knew I would soon forget these hardships when I returned to the Red Dust World. Simple things aren't simple when you live outdoors. The brother who drove me out on the last day of ango also brought my camera so I could take some photos of the place where I'd just spent 100 days alone. By then it was late summer, so the rainfly was furled, revealing the door and mosquito netting of the walls behind it. Equally telling is the fact that the entire world is no longer dark and sodden, as it was when I wrote the following entry.)_ _BEDTIME ORYOKI:_ 1. Unzip the tent fly, then the tent door, just at the bottom, so as not to let bugs in, and slide the rolled blue foam mat, orange Thermarest, and journal case through the slit. 2. Zip back up, return to Tyvek [meditation shelter] and [secure it] for the night. (Mostly hanging stuff up and blowing out the candle after thanking it.) 3. Pee. 4. Lay [walking] stick outside tent door. Unzip the tent and sit in it with feet still outside on the ground. Take off the road [right] sandal, then the heart [left] sandal, and leave them outside, on the heart side, under the fly. 5. Brush off feet with gloved hands if wet, or by rubbing them together if not, and lift them into the tent. 6. Switch on the tent light and place it in the attic [small net hammock overhead]. Turn off the flashlight and store it there as well. 7. Pull the stick inside, clean off the [dirty] end, and lay it along the door sill. Zip up the door. 8. Take off specs and put them in the attic. 9. Untie the blue mat and unroll it along the door side, beside the stick. Store the tying string in the attic. 10. Reinflate the Thermarest and lay it on top of the blue mat, at [the] head end. 11. Spread the [sleeping] bag out on the mats, zipper to the heart (inboard) side. Spread the [cotton sleeping bag] liner on top of the bag. 12. Take off the [monk] robe and lay it next to the bedroll on the floor, interior down, knife [worn on the robe's belt] to heart side, mala [also on the belt] road side, collar headward. 13. Remove needed articles (hand sanitiser, toilet paper, gloves) from cargo pockets of trousers and lay them on the floor against the standing [back] wall, chest-high [when lying down]. 14. Take off trousers, roll them up, and place them on the rain poncho against the standing wall, at about knee height [when lying down]. 15. Roll up [a] pillow from un-needed clothes and other fabric items. Place at head-level, on heart side. 16. Remove underwear and place on trousers. 17. Snake into liner [first], and then into the bag. 18. Spread the robe over the sleeping bag as a blanket, interior down, collar at chin level. 19. Tuck robe's roadside hem corner, belt end, and sleeve under the blue mat (not the orange one), to keep it anchored during the night. 20. Mount night guard [a plastic device I wear at night to protect my teeth]. 21. Turn off the light, lie back, find and place pillow. And pleasant dreams. This process is very time-consuming. But there's no other way to do it so you meet all your needs: warm, dry, as comfortable as possible, properly positioned on the ground, able to find stuff you might need during the night, especially emergency stuff such as you might need during an attack of Giardia or something threatening outside the tent, like a bear.

How To Sleep In The Woods

There's a trick to it. And a lot of work.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2025/10/how-to-sleep-in-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #hermitcraft, #Zen

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

8 months ago

Hermitcraft: How to Make Ghee I had never made ghee before I went to the mountain. In the planning stages of that project, having been raised on tales of people who starved eating rabbit, I believed I needed a source of dietary fat. (Wild rabbits have no fat, according to backwoods lore, hence you can die on a full stomach if you eat only that.) I'd heard about ghee for years, how versatile it was, how good it tasted, and how it kept for months without refrigeration. So that spring I put up four pints of the stuff, for use during my ango. I found instructions on various Internet sites, but most or all of them were more complicated than necessary. Therefore, because ghee really is useful, especially for people who don't have refrigeration, I submit my recipe. HOW TO MAKE GHEE First, copy the following list of ingredients exactly and procure them from a licensed full-service grocer. _Full List of Ingredients:_ 1. Butter. Next, melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When liquefied, turn the temperature up to an active simmer. You're cooking off the water, which is in all butter, and so it will spit and carry on like any hot fat with water in it. DO NOT STIR. (Reason follows.) You're also allowing the milk solids in the butter to congeal and sink to the bottom. This is the difference between ghee and drawn or clarified butter; many websites mistakenly equate the two. Ghee is cooked beyond simple separation, until all the water has steamed away and -- very important -- the milk solids have browned. This is what gives ghee its rich flavour, sometimes described as nutty, sweet, or lemony. The only delicate part is telling when to take the pan off the heat, and that's only delicate because you have to do it by smell. First the ghee will go still; water gone, the bubbling stops. Not long after that, the kitchen will suddenly fill with a buttery scent some associate with baking croissants; to me, it's the smell of shortbread. It's a rich, sumptuous fragrance that takes no prisoners; you'll know it when it happens. Tilt the pan gently at this point and note that the even layer of gunk on the bottom has a pastry-like, toast-brown aspect. That's your cue to take it off the heat. Filter the ghee immediately, while still hot and thin. I use a paper coffee filter for this, for its fine mesh and ease of clean-up. (Woodstove Dharma strikes again.) You can also use muslin, cheesecloth, or a steel-screen coffee filter. Pour the filtered ghee into a lidded jar or tub, and you're done. Fact is, there are only two ways you can screw this up: 1. By becoming distracted (for example by drying paint, which is more exciting than watching butter melt) and allowing the milk solids on the bottom to burn rather than brown, giving the ghee an off flavour. 2. By boiling the ghee so vigorously that some slops on the stove and sets your house on fire, rendering flavour problems relatively moot by comparison. The fix for both is the same: _never leave the kitchen until the ghee is off the stove_. I wipe down the counter, wash a few dishes, start another recipe, whatever I can do without stepping more than a metre away from the simmering pot. Adventure averted. So, what kind of butter is best? Again, details are important: you must only use butter made from the milk of some animal. Do not attempt to make ghee from roofing tar, modelling clay, margarine, or old tires; the flavour will be disappointing. Aside from that, any butter will do. Many websites insist the butter be unsalted; some insist it be expensive; some say it must be organic. The fact is, all butter works. On the Indian subcontinent, ghee is commonly made of yak butter, but the stores where I live tend to sell out of that before I get there, so I use cow butter. The sole difference between the salted and unsalted is purity: marginally-refined butter must be salted to stop all the solids that have been left in it going rancid. Unsalted butter must be more refined, to remove the spoil-prone proteins that would otherwise require salt, and this extra processing raises the price. Because it has less by-catch to precipitate out, unsalted butter renders the most ghee per pound of butter. (Typically just a shade less than the original amount.) Good-quality salted butter renders slightly less ghee than that, but the ghee is _not_ salty; the salt drops out with the rest of the solids. Even the cheapest, crappiest, scariest butter you can buy (that infamous single paper-wrapped rough-hewn slab that smells like cheese and tastes like salt paste) makes excellent ghee. There's just less of it. (Much less; you'll get about two thirds the original amount. In other words, a third of that machete butter, isn't butter.) Ghee has less cholesterol than butter and keeps well without refrigeration if stored in a cool dark place. Since the crust left on the bottom of your pan is also what makes butter burn at high temperature, you can fry in ghee. And it can be used at the table like whole butter. The flavour is pleasant but subtle, and is compatible with most dishes. Now that I'm initiated, I gotta have ghee. I fry potatoes in it, pop popcorn, and of course, sauté my masala. A pound or two put up, and I'm fixed for the year. What was it they used to say on TV? "Try it, you'll like it."

Hermitcraft: How To Make Ghee

A simple recipe made with cow butter that guarantees results.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2012/09/hermitcraft-how-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitcraft, #India, #recipe

Rusty Ring

@rustyring.universeodon.com.ap.brid.gy

8 months ago

Hermitcraft: How to Make Ghee I had never made ghee before I went to the mountain. In the planning stages of that project, having been raised on tales of people who starved eating rabbit, I believed I needed a source of dietary fat. (Wild rabbits have no fat, according to backwoods lore, hence you can die on a full stomach if you eat only that.) I'd heard about ghee for years, how versatile it was, how good it tasted, and how it kept for months without refrigeration. So that spring I put up four pints of the stuff, for use during my ango. I found instructions on various Internet sites, but most or all of them were more complicated than necessary. Therefore, because ghee really is useful, especially for people who don't have refrigeration, I submit my recipe. HOW TO MAKE GHEE First, copy the following list of ingredients exactly and procure them from a licensed full-service grocer. _Full List of Ingredients:_ 1. Butter. Next, melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When liquefied, turn the temperature up to an active simmer. You're cooking off the water, which is in all butter, and so it will spit and carry on like any hot fat with water in it. DO NOT STIR. (Reason follows.) You're also allowing the milk solids in the butter to congeal and sink to the bottom. This is the difference between ghee and drawn or clarified butter; many websites mistakenly equate the two. Ghee is cooked beyond simple separation, until all the water has steamed away and -- very important -- the milk solids have browned. This is what gives ghee its rich flavour, sometimes described as nutty, sweet, or lemony. The only delicate part is telling when to take the pan off the heat, and that's only delicate because you have to do it by smell. First the ghee will go still; water gone, the bubbling stops. Not long after that, the kitchen will suddenly fill with a buttery scent some associate with baking croissants; to me, it's the smell of shortbread. It's a rich, sumptuous fragrance that takes no prisoners; you'll know it when it happens. Tilt the pan gently at this point and note that the even layer of gunk on the bottom has a pastry-like, toast-brown aspect. That's your cue to take it off the heat. Filter the ghee immediately, while still hot and thin. I use a paper coffee filter for this, for its fine mesh and ease of clean-up. (Woodstove Dharma strikes again.) You can also use muslin, cheesecloth, or a steel-screen coffee filter. Pour the filtered ghee into a lidded jar or tub, and you're done. Fact is, there are only two ways you can screw this up: 1. By becoming distracted (for example by drying paint, which is more exciting than watching butter melt) and allowing the milk solids on the bottom to burn rather than brown, giving the ghee an off flavour. 2. By boiling the ghee so vigorously that some slops on the stove and sets your house on fire, rendering flavour problems relatively moot by comparison. The fix for both is the same: _never leave the kitchen until the ghee is off the stove_. I wipe down the counter, wash a few dishes, start another recipe, whatever I can do without stepping more than a metre away from the simmering pot. Adventure averted. So, what kind of butter is best? Again, details are important: you must only use butter made from the milk of some animal. Do not attempt to make ghee from roofing tar, modelling clay, margarine, or old tires; the flavour will be disappointing. Aside from that, any butter will do. Many websites insist the butter be unsalted; some insist it be expensive; some say it must be organic. The fact is, all butter works. On the Indian subcontinent, ghee is commonly made of yak butter, but the stores where I live tend to sell out of that before I get there, so I use cow butter. The sole difference between the salted and unsalted is purity: marginally-refined butter must be salted to stop all the solids that have been left in it going rancid. Unsalted butter must be more refined, to remove the spoil-prone proteins that would otherwise require salt, and this extra processing raises the price. Because it has less by-catch to precipitate out, unsalted butter renders the most ghee per pound of butter. (Typically just a shade less than the original amount.) Good-quality salted butter renders slightly less ghee than that, but the ghee is _not_ salty; the salt drops out with the rest of the solids. Even the cheapest, crappiest, scariest butter you can buy (that infamous single paper-wrapped rough-hewn slab that smells like cheese and tastes like salt paste) makes excellent ghee. There's just less of it. (Much less; you'll get about two thirds the original amount. In other words, a third of that machete butter, isn't butter.) Ghee has less cholesterol than butter and keeps well without refrigeration if stored in a cool dark place. Since the crust left on the bottom of your pan is also what makes butter burn at high temperature, you can fry in ghee. And it can be used at the table like whole butter. The flavour is pleasant but subtle, and is compatible with most dishes. Now that I'm initiated, I gotta have ghee. I fry potatoes in it, pop popcorn, and of course, sauté my masala. A pound or two put up, and I'm fixed for the year. What was it they used to say on TV? "Try it, you'll like it."

Hermitcraft: How To Make Ghee

A simple recipe made with cow butter that guarantees results.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2012/09/hermitcraft-how-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitcraft, #India, #recipe

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

8 months ago

Hermitcraft: How to Make Ghee A simple recipe made with cow butter that guarantees results.

Hermitcraft: How To Make Ghee

A simple recipe made with cow butter that guarantees results.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2012/09/herm...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitcraft, #India, #recipe

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

8 months ago

Hermitcraft: How to Make Ghee I had never made ghee before I went to the mountain. In the planning stages of that project, having been raised on tales of people who starved eating rabbit, I believed I needed a source of dietary fat. (Wild rabbits have no fat, according to backwoods lore, hence you can die on a full stomach if you eat only that.) I'd heard about ghee for years, how versatile it was, how good it tasted, and how it kept for months without refrigeration. So that spring I put up four pints of the stuff, for use during my ango. I found instructions on various Internet sites, but most or all of them were more complicated than necessary. Therefore, because ghee really is useful, especially for people who don't have refrigeration, I submit my recipe. HOW TO MAKE GHEE First, copy the following list of ingredients exactly and procure them from a licensed full-service grocer. _Full List of Ingredients:_ 1. Butter. Next, melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When liquefied, turn the temperature up to an active simmer. You're cooking off the water, which is in all butter, and so it will spit and carry on like any hot fat with water in it. DO NOT STIR. (Reason follows.) You're also allowing the milk solids in the butter to congeal and sink to the bottom. This is the difference between ghee and drawn or clarified butter; many websites mistakenly equate the two. Ghee is cooked beyond simple separation, until all the water has steamed away and -- very important -- the milk solids have browned. This is what gives ghee its rich flavour, sometimes described as nutty, sweet, or lemony. The only delicate part is telling when to take the pan off the heat, and that's only delicate because you have to do it by smell. First the ghee will go still; water gone, the bubbling stops. Not long after that, the kitchen will suddenly fill with a buttery scent some associate with baking croissants; to me, it's the smell of shortbread. It's a rich, sumptuous fragrance that takes no prisoners; you'll know it when it happens. Tilt the pan gently at this point and note that the even layer of gunk on the bottom has a pastry-like, toast-brown aspect. That's your cue to take it off the heat. Filter the ghee immediately, while still hot and thin. I use a paper coffee filter for this, for its fine mesh and ease of clean-up. (Woodstove Dharma strikes again.) You can also use muslin, cheesecloth, or a steel-screen coffee filter. Pour the filtered ghee into a lidded jar or tub, and you're done. Fact is, there are only two ways you can screw this up: 1. By becoming distracted (for example by drying paint, which is more exciting than watching butter melt) and allowing the milk solids on the bottom to burn rather than brown, giving the ghee an off flavour. 2. By boiling the ghee so vigorously that some slops on the stove and sets your house on fire, rendering flavour problems relatively moot by comparison. The fix for both is the same: _never leave the kitchen until the ghee is off the stove_. I wipe down the counter, wash a few dishes, start another recipe, whatever I can do without stepping more than a metre away from the simmering pot. Adventure averted. So, what kind of butter is best? Again, details are important: you must only use butter made from the milk of some animal. Do not attempt to make ghee from roofing tar, modelling clay, margarine, or old tires; the flavour will be disappointing. Aside from that, any butter will do. Many websites insist the butter be unsalted; some insist it be expensive; some say it must be organic. The fact is, all butter works. On the Indian subcontinent, ghee is commonly made of yak butter, but the stores where I live tend to sell out of that before I get there, so I use cow butter. The sole difference between the salted and unsalted is purity: marginally-refined butter must be salted to stop all the solids that have been left in it going rancid. Unsalted butter must be more refined, to remove the spoil-prone proteins that would otherwise require salt, and this extra processing raises the price. Because it has less by-catch to precipitate out, unsalted butter renders the most ghee per pound of butter. (Typically just a shade less than the original amount.) Good-quality salted butter renders slightly less ghee than that, but the ghee is _not_ salty; the salt drops out with the rest of the solids. Even the cheapest, crappiest, scariest butter you can buy (that infamous single paper-wrapped rough-hewn slab that smells like cheese and tastes like salt paste) makes excellent ghee. There's just less of it. (Much less; you'll get about two thirds the original amount. In other words, a third of that machete butter, isn't butter.) Ghee has less cholesterol than butter and keeps well without refrigeration if stored in a cool dark place. Since the crust left on the bottom of your pan is also what makes butter burn at high temperature, you can fry in ghee. And it can be used at the table like whole butter. The flavour is pleasant but subtle, and is compatible with most dishes. Now that I'm initiated, I gotta have ghee. I fry potatoes in it, pop popcorn, and of course, sauté my masala. A pound or two put up, and I'm fixed for the year. What was it they used to say on TV? "Try it, you'll like it."

Hermitcraf: How To Make Ghee

A simple recipe made with cow butter that guarantees results.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2012/09/hermitcraft-how-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitcraft, #India, #recipe

Rusty Ring

@rustyring.universeodon.com.ap.brid.gy

8 months ago

Hermitcraft: How to Make Ghee I had never made ghee before I went to the mountain. In the planning stages of that project, having been raised on tales of people who starved eating rabbit, I believed I needed a source of dietary fat. (Wild rabbits have no fat, according to backwoods lore, hence you can die on a full stomach if you eat only that.) I'd heard about ghee for years, how versatile it was, how good it tasted, and how it kept for months without refrigeration. So that spring I put up four pints of the stuff, for use during my ango. I found instructions on various Internet sites, but most or all of them were more complicated than necessary. Therefore, because ghee really is useful, especially for people who don't have refrigeration, I submit my recipe. HOW TO MAKE GHEE First, copy the following list of ingredients exactly and procure them from a licensed full-service grocer. _Full List of Ingredients:_ 1. Butter. Next, melt the butter in a saucepan over medium heat. When liquefied, turn the temperature up to an active simmer. You're cooking off the water, which is in all butter, and so it will spit and carry on like any hot fat with water in it. DO NOT STIR. (Reason follows.) You're also allowing the milk solids in the butter to congeal and sink to the bottom. This is the difference between ghee and drawn or clarified butter; many websites mistakenly equate the two. Ghee is cooked beyond simple separation, until all the water has steamed away and -- very important -- the milk solids have browned. This is what gives ghee its rich flavour, sometimes described as nutty, sweet, or lemony. The only delicate part is telling when to take the pan off the heat, and that's only delicate because you have to do it by smell. First the ghee will go still; water gone, the bubbling stops. Not long after that, the kitchen will suddenly fill with a buttery scent some associate with baking croissants; to me, it's the smell of shortbread. It's a rich, sumptuous fragrance that takes no prisoners; you'll know it when it happens. Tilt the pan gently at this point and note that the even layer of gunk on the bottom has a pastry-like, toast-brown aspect. That's your cue to take it off the heat. Filter the ghee immediately, while still hot and thin. I use a paper coffee filter for this, for its fine mesh and ease of clean-up. (Woodstove Dharma strikes again.) You can also use muslin, cheesecloth, or a steel-screen coffee filter. Pour the filtered ghee into a lidded jar or tub, and you're done. Fact is, there are only two ways you can screw this up: 1. By becoming distracted (for example by drying paint, which is more exciting than watching butter melt) and allowing the milk solids on the bottom to burn rather than brown, giving the ghee an off flavour. 2. By boiling the ghee so vigorously that some slops on the stove and sets your house on fire, rendering flavour problems relatively moot by comparison. The fix for both is the same: _never leave the kitchen until the ghee is off the stove_. I wipe down the counter, wash a few dishes, start another recipe, whatever I can do without stepping more than a metre away from the simmering pot. Adventure averted. So, what kind of butter is best? Again, details are important: you must only use butter made from the milk of some animal. Do not attempt to make ghee from roofing tar, modelling clay, margarine, or old tires; the flavour will be disappointing. Aside from that, any butter will do. Many websites insist the butter be unsalted; some insist it be expensive; some say it must be organic. The fact is, all butter works. On the Indian subcontinent, ghee is commonly made of yak butter, but the stores where I live tend to sell out of that before I get there, so I use cow butter. The sole difference between the salted and unsalted is purity: marginally-refined butter must be salted to stop all the solids that have been left in it going rancid. Unsalted butter must be more refined, to remove the spoil-prone proteins that would otherwise require salt, and this extra processing raises the price. Because it has less by-catch to precipitate out, unsalted butter renders the most ghee per pound of butter. (Typically just a shade less than the original amount.) Good-quality salted butter renders slightly less ghee than that, but the ghee is _not_ salty; the salt drops out with the rest of the solids. Even the cheapest, crappiest, scariest butter you can buy (that infamous single paper-wrapped rough-hewn slab that smells like cheese and tastes like salt paste) makes excellent ghee. There's just less of it. (Much less; you'll get about two thirds the original amount. In other words, a third of that machete butter, isn't butter.) Ghee has less cholesterol than butter and keeps well without refrigeration if stored in a cool dark place. Since the crust left on the bottom of your pan is also what makes butter burn at high temperature, you can fry in ghee. And it can be used at the table like whole butter. The flavour is pleasant but subtle, and is compatible with most dishes. Now that I'm initiated, I gotta have ghee. I fry potatoes in it, pop popcorn, and of course, sauté my masala. A pound or two put up, and I'm fixed for the year. What was it they used to say on TV? "Try it, you'll like it."

Hermitcraf: How To Make Ghee

A simple recipe made with cow butter that guarantees results.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2012/09/hermitcraft-how-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #food, #hermitcraft, #India, #recipe

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

11 months ago

WW: The barn on the Acres (At the bottom of the hill on the land were I sat 100 Days on the Mountain.)

The barn on the acres

Refuge from the rain for a few hours.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2012/05/ww-barn-on-acres...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

1 year ago

Waterproof Monk They thought a few slugs could stop me. THEY WERE WRONG.

Waterproof Monk

They thought a few slugs could stop me. THEY WERE WRONG.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/11/wate...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #ChowYunFat, #depression, #hermitpractice, #meditation, #monk, #movie, #Zen

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

1 year ago

Waterproof Monk The summer of 2011 was wet in the Willapa Hills. Very wet. And also cold. But mostly wet. For a monk sitting his 100 Days on the Mountain, sleeping in a cave-like tent and living under a piece of Tyvek, it presented unique challenges. These included, but were not limited to: * Six-inch banana slugs that got snarled in my robe while I was meditating, then panicked and snotted out a plate-sized patch of slime all over it and my zabuton. * The same going "squish!" rather dramatically underfoot when I crawled out of bed at 0300 to pee. * Mildew covering everything, even the nylon effects, stored in my tent. * The inability to launder clothing or bedding, because I couldn't dry it. * Bare feet eternally muddy; rain-softened sandals sliding out from under them on any but perfectly level ground. * And perhaps the worst: being imprisoned in my little jungle clearing, because leaving it meant getting soaked in high grass or brush. (Remember: no drying things.) A week or so of this, and the Oh-Look-How-Zen-I-Am shtick ceases to umbrella one's morale; one swings from vociferous obscenities to deep depression. And so it was that I envisioned this movie, starring me as The Nameless Hermit, one midnight while sitting on my sleeping bag under driving rain. If the lines seem a little wobbly, it's because they were drawn by flashlight. Also, the pose was meant to be some kind of scary kung fu stance. Sadly, in the cold light of day, I just look like an angry folk dancer. I derived creatively from the Chow Yun-Fat grinder _Bulletproof Monk._ Of this movie, Chicago Reader film critic Bill Stamets said: "The fight scenes are routine, the humor juvenile, and the Toronto locales rendered drab through muddy cinematography." So there you go. Change "Toronto" to "North Coast," and you've got my whole life. So what do you think? Does my movie idea have legs? Frankly, I think I could kick Chow's butt. Commercially, of course. --- This is exactly what my ango was like. Except I wasn't angry. Or Asian. Or armed. But aside from that, this is exactly what it was like. _(Adapted from_100 Days on the Mountain _, copyright RK Henderson._

Waterproof Monk

They thought a few slugs could stop me. THEY WERE WRONG.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/11/waterproof-monk....

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #ChowYunFat, #depression, #hermitpractice, #meditation, #monk, #movie, #Zen

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

1 year ago

Waterproof Monk The summer of 2011 was wet in the Willapa Hills. Very wet. And also cold. But mostly wet. For a monk sitting his 100 Days on the Mountain, sleeping in a cave-like tent and living under a piece of Tyvek, it presented unique challenges. These included, but were not limited to: * Six-inch banana slugs that got snarled in my robe while I was meditating, then panicked and snotted out a plate-sized patch of slime all over it and my zabuton. * The same going "squish!" rather dramatically underfoot when I crawled out of bed at 0300 to pee. * Mildew covering everything, even the nylon effects, stored in my tent. * The inability to launder clothing or bedding, because I couldn't dry it. * Bare feet eternally muddy; rain-softened sandals sliding out from under them on any but perfectly level ground. * And perhaps the worst: being imprisoned in my little jungle clearing, because leaving it meant getting soaked in high grass or brush. (Remember: no drying things.) A week or so of this, and the Oh-Look-How-Zen-I-Am shtick ceases to umbrella one's morale; one swings from vociferous obscenities to deep depression. And so it was that I envisioned this movie, starring me as The Nameless Hermit, one midnight while sitting on my sleeping bag under driving rain. If the lines seem a little wobbly, it's because they were drawn by flashlight. Also, the pose was meant to be some kind of scary kung fu stance. Sadly, in the cold light of day, I just look like an angry folk dancer. I derived creatively from the Chow Yun-Fat grinder _Bulletproof Monk._ Of this movie, Chicago Reader film critic Bill Stamets said: "The fight scenes are routine, the humor juvenile, and the Toronto locales rendered drab through muddy cinematography." So there you go. Change "Toronto" to "North Coast," and you've got my whole life. So what do you think? Does my movie idea have legs? Frankly, I think I could kick Chow's butt. Commercially, of course. --- This is exactly what my ango was like. Except I wasn't angry. Or Asian. Or armed. But aside from that, this is exactly what it was like. _(Adapted from_100 Days on the Mountain _, copyright RK Henderson._

Waterproof Monk

They thought a few slugs could stop me. THEY WERE WRONG.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/11/waterproof-monk....

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #ChowYunFat, #depression, #hermitpractice, #meditation, #monk, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

1 year ago

Hermitcraft: Busting Dysentery Advice to the sick and alone.

Hermitcraft: Busting Dysentery

Advice to the sick and alone.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/10/herm...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #book, #Douglasfir, #hemlock, #hermitcraft, #tea, #TheNeighborhoodForager, #wildedibles

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

1 year ago

Hermitcraft: Busting Dysentery --- Oxalis While on ango last summer, I got a visit from the Dysentery Fairy. I still haven't determined precisely what sort it was; we have a lot of Giardia around here, but it would be a true hail-mary for that to get into a rain barrel. On the other hand, if it was a bacterial infection, the symptoms were pretty giardesque. I'm not even certain it came from my drinking water; hygiene is a constant battle in the outback, where you're surrounded by faeces and wild water. Anyway, I suffered an anxious week or two, dodging into the dark forest at 0300 and fearing the thing would drive me off the mountain. In the end I kicked its butt, thanks to the support of friends and family and, I believe, the tea I'm passing on in this post. It's terrifying to find yourself sick and alone; once it's happened (and this wasn't the first time for me), you'll never trivialise someone else's misfortune. In this case, I spent about a day trying to hide from it. Then I got mad. Fact is, a lifetime of relevant experience prepared me to confront this problem. Hell, I wrote a freakin' book on wild herbs, for Christ's sake! I decided that if I was going to be forced off the mountain, I was really going to be forced. Surrender would only become an option when every last gun had been fired. And I had several. To begin with, the Acres, where I lived, was busting with herbs in their best season. And my cache contained other possibles. So I got off my backside and raked together a tea calculated to firm things up and rain displeasure on my uninvited guests. I put myself on a regimen of 3 rice bowls (twice the size of tea bowls) of this per day; most days I drank more. I gulped down each, then sucked, chewed, and spit out the leaves. The tea itself actually tasted OK, but the cud-chewing was abominable. Still, I got better. Quickly. --- Hemlock _The Recipe_ Put a double measure of strong green tea leaves in the bottom of a rice bowl. Add: oxalis and/or sheep sorrel New Douglas fir tips (see note below) Blackberry rhizome Blackberry leaf Chop all ingredients well; I used a pair of scissors. Fill the bowl with boiling water, cover, and steep for fifteen minutes, minimum. Drink and enjoy. The green tea provides tannins, which tighten up your bowels, and is acidic, which gut-bugs hate. Blackberry leaves bring more tannin, are scientifically proven to fight dysentery, and taste alright; the rhizomes bring nuclear amounts of tannin and taste unspeakably awful when chewed, but as an ingredient in a diverse tea mix like this one, are palatable. Tart components (oxalis or sorrel; cider vinegar or lemon if you've got it) contribute more acid while tasting good, which encourages you to drink more. Young Douglas fir needles are pleasant too, though the older ones are quite strong, and are effective against diarrhœa. Other conifers will also work if you don't have _Pseudotsuga_ ; I've used spruce and hemlock to good effect. Finally, I also just plain _ate_ oxalis and Douglas fir, often, during those days. Later, a friend and fellow hermit came out to check on me, and he suggested I add Prunella to my dose. Did it help? It didn't hurt. It's dreadful stuff all the same, but once again the oxalis and Douglas fir got it past my tongue. Similarly, I held willow in reserve, should tougher measures be necessary. Willow bark is the origin of aspirin and an excellent medicinal, as well as highly acidic. It's also the most God-awful revolting bile on the planet; like chewing an aspirin tablet. (Bit of a toss-up between this and blackberry rhizome.) Fortunately, I never needed it that summer. This concoction put a decisive end to the pyrotechnic dumps and secured me those all-important restful nights. Of course, it wasn't the only measure I took; I also went in for draconian hygiene, fastidious handling of water, mindful hydration habits, and careful monitoring of the quality and quantity of everything that came out of me. I also imposed a few dietary adjustments: chiefly, a well-curried bowl, boiled up with bullion (for the salt), and served with a sadistic squirt of sriracha. Intestinal microbes trend to Caucasian tastes, so I made sure things got nice and "ethnic" on the old beaver fever. Whatever the reason, and whatever it was in the first place, the disease eventually pulled up stakes and left. (You might say, it just didn't have the guts.) Whether I beat it, or it just wasn't that scary to begin with, I'll never know. But the tea worked. One day I had dramatic digestion; then I drank the tea, and it was significantly gone the next. Then about a week later I stopped drinking it (thinking I was "cured"; yes, I knew well better than to do this) and the trouble came right back. So I drank the tea again, and it went away again. Therefore I offer the recipe, in loving support of anyone else who might also fall into that pit. Brother, sister: drop this on your trouble. And smile while you drink it. For if you listen closely, you can hear the little bastards scream. _(Adapted from_100 Days on the Mountain,_copyright RK Henderson.)_

Hermitcraft: Busting Dysentery

Advice to the sick and alone.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/10/hermitcraft-bust...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #book, #Douglasfir, #hemlock, #hermitcraft, #tea, #TheNeighborhoodForager, #wildedibles

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

1 year ago

100 Days on the Mountain The meditation was the easy part.

100 Days On The Mountain

The first blog post I made after I came out of the jungle.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/09/100-...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #maple, #meditation, #poem, #sangha, #walkingstick, #wildlife, #Zen

RustyRing

@rustyring.mastodon.scot.ap.brid.gy

1 year ago

100 Days on the Mountain --- Day 37. So I'm back. It's taking some time to recalibrate to the (by turns insistent, by turns indifferent) rhythm of Humania, but I thought I'd climb back up on the blog horse by offering an overview of the project. The deal: A week ago I completed 100 days of hermit ango in the Willapa Hills, being the rugged, densely forested, sparsely populated southern frontier of my coastal nation. I spent each of those days attending to the needs of survival and practising meditation, both sitting and other. I also brought out 445 pages (and counting) of journal. These will be rockered into a book, but for the time being, I can summarise the experience as "deep and broad and one of the most worthwhile things I've ever done." In the meantime, here are some photos. I had no camera, since possessions were limited to survival requirements, so "some" photos is pretty much all of them. But I offer them all the same, in deep gratitude for the opportunity to practice, and for the friends and fellow monastics who made it possible. Supplying these photos was the least of their contributions. Facts in Brief: I established camp on 83 acres of undeveloped hillsides, surrounded by much the same for miles in every direction. I was dropped on 26 May 2011, and remained in-country for 100 days. --- View of my mountain from another one. The land was extremely diverse, consisting of bands of deep coastal jungle alternating with dense stands of Douglas fir; high, cleared ground going to brush; low, marginally maintained pastureland; and several riparian habitats. It was bounded to the north by one tidal creek, and to the south by another. Decadent luxuries included a 100-year old orchard that furnished my fill of heritage apples in the final weeks, and a barn I was permitted to use. With a freakin' wood stove! (Big deal? Read on.) The weather was... how do you say? Ah, yes. CRAP. To put things in perspective, let me explain to those not from the North Coast that our famous perma-rain is supposed, by custom and contract, to diminish through June, ending definitively on 1 July. After that date, glorious summer is to ensue and persist until mid-September, at which time the rain may begin again. Thus, I sat, as I expected, in the bitter wet sopping dark through the full 30 days of June. Then I did likewise through July, day by day, night by night, week by week. Finally, on 1 August, the rain stopped. The grey kept on, but I'm cool with that. You can have the grey, July, just stop goddam raining on me. So my host's gracious offer of the barn, including the wood stove and even his firewood, as laundromat and spa, proved vital in a summer that included a sit in full winter kit (tuque, gloves, and every stitch of clothing I owned on under my robe) on 4 July. And that wasn't the last. At long last, mid-August produced a near-facsimile of summer, following clouded mornings with sunny afternoons, and only 1 full day of rain. I was even able to take the fly off my tent for several days, so only somewhat arctic had the nights become. --- Despite my sittingThree things will not be silencedMind. Body. Tyvek. The gear consisted of a small tent, a Tyvek tarp, a sleeping bag, a backpacking stove, and a backpack. I also had the minimum tools and clothing, and a cache of food (an all-purpose cereal I invented for the purpose, called zenola, and rice and beans for afternoon and evening meals) and other supplies, located in the rafters of the barn. My robe, which I designed and my mother, the Stradivarius of the sewing machine, drafted and made, was critical equipment, as was my stick. Both served 24 hours a day throughout the entire ango. Sangha included, by partial account: Steller's jays; more configurations of garter snake than I've ever seen; kingfishers; salmon smolt; four species of owl; Douglas squirrels; bears; deer; alligator lizards; a young goshawk; otters; numerous colonies of paper wasp; beavers; bobcats; a special-ops unit of raccoons; a herd of elk; and an entire tribal confederation of coyotes. All of us closely monitored by a proprietary flock of ravens. (Full list to be included in the upcoming book.) Finally, close friends made three scheduled proof-of-life visits during the ango. One dropped me off in May and made an emergency trip on Day 62 to verify my well-being, and another picked me up in September and bought me a cheeseburger and fries on the way back to the realm of people. And of course the couple who allowed me, with incredible generosity, to sit on their land all summer, and supported my practice in smaller but vital ways over the full 100 days. And now the work begins. I'm hoping to have the book done soon. In the meantime, you'll be seeing excerpts and related material here. And I'm glad the rest of you didn't blow yourselves up in my absence. Keep up the good work, eh? --- The Bodhi Tree, a giant bigleaf maple, under which I sat.

100 Days On The Mountain

The first blog post I made after I came out of the jungle.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/09/100-days-on-moun...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #hermitpractice, #maple, #meditation, #poem, #sangha, #walkingstick, #wildlife, #Zen

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

1 year ago

Just Sitting 100 Days on the Mountain.

Just Sitting

Memories of May 2011, when I started my forest ango. Still a defining moment in my life.

(Also, a nostalgic photo of the forest by the ocean, where I lived in those years.)

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/05/just...

#100DaysontheMountain, #gratitude, #hermitpractice, #meditation, #poem

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

1 year ago

St. Valentine's Day Meditation It was never supposed to be reasonable.

St. Valentine's Day Meditation

It was never supposed to be reasonable.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2025/02/st-v...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #book, #hermitpractice, #love, #ValentinesDay

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

1 year ago

St. Valentine's Day Meditation It was never supposed to be reasonable.

St. Valentine's Day Meditation

It was never supposed to be reasonable.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2025/02/st-v...

#100DaysontheMountain, #ango, #book, #hermitpractice, #love, #ValentinesDay

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

1 year ago

Good Movie: Amongst White Clouds Hermit monks –thousands of them – still practicing in China.

Good Movie: Amongst White Clouds

Hermit monks – thousands of them – still practicing in China.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2011/02/good...

#100DaysontheMountain, #autonomy, #BillPorter, #book, #China, #EdwardABurger, #hermitpractice, #movie, #review, #RoadtoHeaven, #ZhongnanMountains

Rusty Ring

@rusty-ring.bsky.social

1 year ago

Vital Ordnance Tiny flying chainsaw.

Vital Ordinance

Tiny flying chainsaw.

rustyring.blogspot.com/2012/01/vita...

#100DaysontheMountain, #bird, #book, #hummingbird, #wildlife