Trees, Fruits and Flowers of Minnesota, 1916 Part 60

In the opinion of the Department, this case is peculiarly significant and demonstrates that the grower must be able to distinguish _Agaricus campestris_ from any of the wild forms of mushrooms that may appear in the beds. Under the circ.u.mstances, the Department strongly urges every grower to make himself thoroughly familiar with the cultivated species.

Complete descriptions, with pictures of poisonous and cultivated species, are contained in Department Bulletin 175, "Mushrooms and Other Common Fungi," which can be purchased for 30 cents from the Superintendent of Doc.u.ments, Government Printing Office, Washington, D.C.

Manufacture of Cider Vinegar from Minnesota Apples.

PROF. W. G. BRIERLY, HORT. DEPT., UNIVERSITY FARM, ST. PAUL.

Cider making is an old process, carried on in a small way on the farm or more extensively in the commercial "quick process." From apple cider many different products are obtained, chief of these being vinegar and others being bottled cider, boiled cider, apple b.u.t.ter and, more recently, concentrated cider and cider syrup. This discussion will consider only the manufacture of vinegar.

As a farm process, the making of cider vinegar utilizes an otherwise waste product, the culls or unmarketable varieties. It can be done on rainy days or when other work is slack. For the best results, however, as in any form of marketing, some vinegar should be made each year so that the market may be supplied regularly, and, further, to give the necessary experience which will mean a better quality of vinegar.

As a commercial process we find the making of cider is a regularly conducted manufacturing enterprise in which a considerable amount of capital is needed. Expert knowledge of vinegar making, especially of the "quick process," is essential. On this basis it is not open to the apple grower and is a doubtful venture on a co-operative plan without the help of experts. Where a vinegar factory is established, however, it gives to the orchardist a means to dispose of his cull apples.

Considering the process as it can be carried on on the farm, there are a number of distinct steps, all of which are important. The first step is to prepare for the work. Get a good machine, as it will pay for itself in the added extract of juice. A good machine need not cost more than $25 and may be had for less. Casks must be obtained and sterilized with live steam or sulphur fumes, washed thoroughly, and kept in a convenient place where they will not dry. It is best as well to have the convenience of running water to wash the apples if dirty and to clean up the machine occasionally. Cleanliness should be provided for and insisted upon, as dirty and decaying apples not only give undesirable flavors, but the bacteria and molds feed upon the sugar in the cider and greatly reduce the strength of the vinegar. This is one reason why a rainy day is a good time for cider making, as dust and flies are less and molds are not so abundantly "planted" in the cider.

The next step is the grinding and pressing and is very simple. With an efficient machine the cider is quickly ready for the casks.

Then follows the first fermentation, which very frequently is not properly managed, and poor vinegar results. The casks should be filled only two-thirds full, the bung left open but screened with cheesecloth or lightly fitted with a plug of cotton to admit air. Compressed yeast generally should be added, at the rate of one cake to each five gallons, first mixing the yeast in lukewarm water. If the cask is then placed in a warm place, at least sixty degrees--seventy degrees or more being better--we have the three requirements of proper fermentation, namely, air, warmth and yeast. This will give rapid fermentation, which will reduce the loss of sugars to a minimum. This fermentation should be allowed to go on until completed. If vinegar starts to form it will usually leave a residue of sugar and give a weaker vinegar. It will require from two weeks to a year to change all the sugars into alcohol, depending upon the management of the work. When finished the clear juice is "racked" or siphoned into a clean cask, through a straining cloth to insure the removal of all pomace or sediment.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Prof. W. G. Brierly, Horticultural Dept., University Farm, St. Paul, Minn.]

Then follows the fermentation to produce the acetic acid and finish the vinegar. A "starter" of "mother" can be used, but it is best to take out a gallon or more of the cider when "racking" and add a pint to a quart of a good grade cider vinegar. Let it stand in a warm place, well covered with cheesecloth, and in from four to ten days a granular, brownish cake should begin to form. This starter can then be put directly into the casks, a pint or more to each cask. If the starter develops a white, slimy coat, throw it out and start again. For all of this second stage of fermentation follow the same plan as at first. Fill the barrels not over two-thirds full, use a cotton plug or cheesecloth screen at the bung and keep at a warm temperature. The essentials again are air and warmth, with a good vinegar starter. Under these conditions the vinegar may be ready in from two to ten months. If the usual plan of "natural" fermentation is followed, and the cask is kept at a low temperature, it may be three years before the vinegar is ready.

When the vinegar seems to be completed, send a sample to the State Dairy and Food Commission at the Capitol for a.n.a.lysis. If they say it is completed, "rack" off and strain again into clean barrels, this time filling full and driving in the bung. This will prevent loss from evaporation, and the vinegar can be sold at any time. The state law requires that cider vinegars sold in the state measure up to a certain standard--namely, four per cent. of acetic acid, 1.6 grams per 100 cc.

of solids, and .25 grams per 100 cc. of ash.

So much for vinegar making in general. For Minnesota conditions little is known about the definite behavior of any apple varieties. This has led to the study of vinegar making as a problem for the Experiment Station. The Division of Horticulture is carrying on variety tests to determine the yields of juice at different stages of maturity, the efficiency of types of presses, labor costs per gallon, and the production of vinegar from each variety to determine its value. The Division of Agricultural Chemistry makes a.n.a.lyses of the sweet cider to determine the composition and vinegar prospects, and also a.n.a.lyzes the vinegars at various stages. The work has been carried on for two seasons and is showing some interesting facts. These must, however, be checked with further work before definite statements can be published.

As to machines, our results show that the press with press cloths will outyield nearly two to one the press with the barrel or drum. However, a strong grain sack used to catch the pomace and used to confine it in the drum will give a very satisfactory yield, but it requires a considerable amount of labor to do this.

As to labor costs per gallon, we have as yet no definite figures except that one man can grind and press a minimum of eight to nine gallons an hour. Two men can raise the output to at least thirteen gallons. At 25 cents per hour the cost per gallon on this basis varies between two and four cents. As the apples are of little value, and the labor generally "rainy day" labor, this seems to give an inexpensive product.

Our vinegars are as yet incomplete. The run of 1914 was very limited and of necessity stored in a cold cellar. It now tests two per cent. acetic acid, so is only half finished.

As to variety yields, the results of the work of two seasons compare very closely and show generally that there is a variation from a minimum of a scant two gallons up to more than a pint over three gallons from forty pounds of each variety. The forty-pound quant.i.ty is taken as representative of the bushel by measure. The varieties leading cider production are--the Hibernal and Wealthy, which generally have given us about three gallons per forty pounds, the d.u.c.h.ess and Patten running slightly lower in cider yield. The Longfield, Lowland Raspberry, Charlamoff and Whitney rank in a third group, according to our trials.

This does not mean, however, that those in the latter group are not usable, as the Charlamoff and Whitney are among the highest in sugar content. These figures are greatly modified if the apples have been in storage or are over-ripe.

The chemical a.n.a.lyses of the ciders show that, in general, Minnesota apples do not contain relatively high percentages of sugars. This varies with the season and increases with maturity. The highest total sugar content in ripe apples has been found in the Charlamoff at 9.25 per cent., followed in order by Whitney, 9.08 per cent., Wealthy 8.81 per cent., d.u.c.h.ess 8.60 per cent., Patten 8.21 per cent., Hibernal 7.85 per cent., and Longfield at 7.17 per cent. The significance of these figures is seen when the statement is made that it usually takes two per cent.

sugars to make one per cent. of acetic acid. With the majority of our apples we must work carefully, or the vinegar will not meet the state standard of four per cent. acetic acid. This is further substantiated by the report of the State Dairy and Food Commission that the vinegar samples sent to them rarely come up to the standard.

From the data as we now have it we cannot draw definite conclusions, but in general it is safe to say that the making of vinegar from Minnesota apples is done on a close margin. This will mean careful work to get the most out of the fermentation, the use of yeast, warm cellars or store rooms and proper management of the casks as to filling and the entrance of air. The work is not expensive. There is a good demand for really good vinegar, and a market is provided for fruit which could not readily be sold in any other form.

A Summer in Our Garden.

MRS. GERTRUDE ELLIS SKINNER, AUSTIN.

Summer in our garden begins with the arrival of the first seed catalogue in January, and closes the day before its arrival the next January. We may be short on flowers in our garden, but we are long on seed catalogues in our library. We do not believe in catalogue houses excepting seed catalogues. We find them more marvelous than the Arabian Nights, more imaginative than Baron Manchausen, and more alluring than a circus poster. We care not who steals the Mona Lisa so long as Salzer sends us pictures of his cabbages. The art gallery of the Louvre may be robbed of its masterpiece without awakening a pang in our b.r.e.a.s.t.s, if Dreer will only send us the pictures of those roses that bloom in the paint-shops of Philadelphia. Morgan may purchase the choicest collections of paintings in Europe and hide them from the public in his New York mansion, if May will send us pictures of watermelons, such as were never imagined by Raphael, Michael Angelo or Correggio.

While the world watches the struggle for the ownership of some great railway system, the control of some big trust, the development of some enormous enterprise, we watch for the arrival of the seed catalogue to see which artist can get the most cabbages in a field, the most melons on a cart, or make the corn look most like the big trees of Yosemite.

Don't talk to us of the pleasures of bridge whist, it is not to be compared with the seed catalogue habit.

In the seed catalogue we mark all the things we are going to buy, we mark all the new things. There is the wonderberry, sweeter than the blueberry, with the fragrance of the pineapple and the lusciousness of the strawberry! We mark the Himalaya-berry--which grows thirty feet, sometimes sixty feet in a single season. Why, one catalogue told of a man who picked 3,833-1/2 pounds of berries from a single vine, beside what his children ate. Our Himalaya vine grew four inches the first season and died the first winter. We were glad it did. We did not want such a monster running over our garden. We wanted to raise other things.

But we did not lose faith in our catalogues. We believe what they say just as the small boy believes he will see a lion eat a man at the circus, because the billboard pictures him doing it.

If we ordered all the seeds we mark in the catalogue in January, we would require a township for a garden, a Rockefeller to finance it and an army to hoe it. We did not understand the purpose of a catalogue for a long time. A catalogue is a stimulus. It's like an oyster c.o.c.ktail before a dinner, a Scotch high-ball before the banquet and the singing before the sermon. Salzer knows no one ever raised such a crop of cabbages as he pictures or the world would be drowned in sauer kraut. If the Himalaya-berry bore as the catalogues say it does we should all be buried in jam. You horticulturists never expect to raise such an apple as Lindsay describes; if you did, they would be more valuable than the golden apples of Hesperides.

But when we get a catalogue we just naturally dream that what we shall raise will not only be as good but will excel the pictures. Alas, of such stuff are dreams made! We could not do our gardening without catalogues, but they are not true to life as we find it in our garden.

We never got a catalogue that showed the striped bug on the cuc.u.mber, the slug on the rose bush, the louse on the aster, the cut worm on the phlox, the black bug on the syringa, the thousand and one pests, including the great American hen, the queen of the barnyard, but the Goth and vandal of the garden.

But the best part of summer in our garden is the work we do in winter.

Then it is that our garden is most beautiful, for we work in the garden of imagination, where drouth does not blight, nor storms devastate, where the worm never cuts nor the bugs destroy. No dog ever uproots in the garden of imagination, nor doth the hen scratch. This is the perfect garden. Our golden glow blossoms in all of its auriferous splendor, the Oriental poppy is a barbaric blaze of glory, our roses are as fair as the tints of Aurora, the larkspur vies with the azure of heaven, the gladioli are like a galaxy of b.u.t.terflies and our lilies like those which put Solomon in the shade. Every flower is in its proper place to make harmony complete. There is not a jarring note of color in our garden in the winter time.

Then comes the spring in our garden, a time of faith, vigilance and hard work. Faith that the seed will grow, vigilance that it is planted deep enough and has the right conditions in which to grow. Vigilance against frost, weeds and insects. Planting, sowing, hoeing, transplanting, coaxing, hoping, expecting, working--we never do half that we planned to do in the springtime--there are not enough days, and the days we have are too short.

Then comes summer, real summer in our garden. Then flowers begin to bloom, and our friends tell us they are lovely. But we see the flaws and errors. We feel almost guilty to have our garden praised, so many glaring faults and shortcomings has it. The color scheme is wrong, there are false notes here and there. There are tall plants where short plants should be. There are s.p.a.ces and breaks and again spots over-crowded. We water and hoe, train vines, prop plants, and kill the bugs, but we know the weak spots in our garden and vow that next summer we shall remedy every mistake.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Mrs. Gertrude Ellis Skinner among her gladoli.]

Then "summer in our garden" has an autumn. The garden is never so beautiful as when the first frost strikes it. Pillow-cases, sheets, shawls, ap.r.o.ns, coats and newspapers may for a brief time hold at bay the frost king, but he soon laughs at our efforts, crawls under the edges of the unsightly garments with which we protect our flowers, nips their petals, wilts their stems and blackens their leaves. We find them some morning hopelessly frozen. But the earth has ceased to give forth its aroma, the birds are winging southward, the waters of the brook run clear and cold, and the voice of the last cricket sounds lonesome in the land. We say to nature, "Work your will with our garden; the summer is over, and we are ready to plan for another season."

And what have we learned from the "summer in our garden?" That no one can be happy in his garden unless he works for the joy of the working.

He who loves his work loves nature. To him his garden is a great cathedral, boundless as his wonder, a place of worship. Above him the dome ever changing in color and design, beautiful in sunshine or storm and thrice beautiful when studded with the eternal lamps of night. The walls are the trees, the vines and the shrubs, waving in the distant horizon and flinging their branches on the sky line, or close at hand where we hear the voice of the wind among the leaves.

A wondrous floor is the garden's cathedral of emerald green in the summer, sprinkled with flowers, of ermine whiteness in the winter, sparkling with the diamonds of frost. Its choir is the winds, the singing birds and the hum of insects. Its builder and maker is G.o.d. Man goeth to his garden in the springtime, and, behold, all is mystery.

There is the mystery of life about him, in the flowing sap in the trees, the springing of the green gra.s.s, the awakening of the insect world, the hatching of the worm from the egg, the changing of the worm into the b.u.t.terfly.

The seed the gardener holds in his hand is a mystery. He knows what it will produce, but why one phlox seed will produce a red blossom and another a white is to him a miracle. He wonders at the prodigality of nature. In her economy, what is one or ten thousand seeds! She scatters them with lavish hand from ragweed, thistle or oak. If man could make but the single seed of the ragweed, he could make a world. The distance between a pansy and a planet is no greater than between man and a pansy.

The gardener sees the same infinite care bestowed upon the lowest as upon the highest form of life, and he wonders at it. He looks into the face of a flower, scans the b.u.t.terfly and notes the toadstool and sees that each is wonderful.

From the time he enters his garden in the springtime until he leaves it in the autumn, he will find a place and a time to worship in his cathedral. He enters it with the seed in his hand in the spring, and as he rakes away the ripened plants in the autumn he finds something still of the mystery of life. A puff-ball is before him, and he muses on its forming. The little puff-ball stands at one end of the scale of life and he, man, at the other, "close to the realm where angels have their birth, just on the boundary of the spirit land." From the things visible in our garden we learn of the things invisible, and strong the faith of him who kneeling in adoration of the growing plant looks from nature to nature's G.o.d and finds the peace which pa.s.seth understanding.

Bringing the Producer and Consumer Together.

R. S. MACKINTOSH, HORTICULTURAL SPECIALIST, AGRICULTURAL EXTENSION DIVISION, UNIVERSITY FARM, ST. PAUL.

The introduction of Mr. Producer to Mr. Consumer directly, and not by proxy, is the chief desire of the present time. The fact remains, however, that in the vast majority of cases Messrs. Proxy & Co. is brought in and breaks up the direct personal contact. The development of complex marketing means specialization and in a large degree sets it apart from production. When specialization becomes dominant, then standardization becomes necessary. Each producer is unable to keep in touch with all such movements and consequently finds it hard to keep abreast of the times. In this age of rapid transit, specialization, scientific discoveries, and the improvements resulting therefrom, seem somewhat out of place when compared with our present marketing systems.