One of my goals for the summer is to improve my spinning. I’ve carved out some time every day to work with my spindles and wheels with the hope of seeing some real progress by fall. The question of, “why?” always comes up when I announce that I’m planning to spin (since I’m not good at it at all). Well, I’ve passed the totally frustrated stage where the fiber breaks every 2 seconds, and I’ve actually gotten to the point where I have skeined singles and even a few that are plied. Some I’m actually proud of. Some of them are simply a hot mess.

The real reason I’m working to improve has to do with two whole fleeces that currently reside in my basement in a bin. One is from a Finn sheep that I got at the Vermont Sheep and Wool festival year. It is composed of the most amazing, long locks that look like corkscrew curls. The other is the fleece of Elvis, who last year was a lamb. Elvis is Gute — the oldest indigenous breed of sheep in Sweden. Both Finn and Elvis need to be washed and processed before they can be spun, so I’m looking forward to taking these wools through the entirety of sheep to finished garment with the aim of developing not only “how,” but “why” these fibers do what they do.

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My friend Josefin just put up a post about teaching at Sätergläntan (where I took a class in two-end knitting last year), that had links to Navajo spindles made here in the US. Of course that sent me down a rabbit hole to look at some videos of Navajo weavers and spinners. One in particular — Clara Sherman — was so interesting that I had to have Bruce come to watch it with me. I would be nodding as she would say things like, “your hands know,” and he would be shaking his head because as a scientist it frustrates him that crafts people in general use these very subjective terms to describe how we work. I do understand that there are much more precise ways to explain what my hands are doing, but ” your hands know” is, to me, a very accurate description.

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It is also the way I cook, so it’s not surprising that I take an organic approach to spinning. Speaking of cooking — this is not the time of year to do it. It’s way too warm and humid (and too early to be this way), so I’ll do nearly anything to avoid adding heat to my environment. That means gazpacho nearly every day for lunch with crusty bread and olive oil. Some years ago I was lucky enough to get to spend a week in Granada, and it was a good time for sampling gazpacho (which I did at every meal where I could find it). It was very different in every restaurant, and I had almost no luck wangling the recipe from any of the chefs. “Family secret” was most often cited, but I did get a few tips. Here is my recipe, patched together from the best tips and tastings. Everything in this “formula” is “to taste,” so making it your own is easy to do. Herbs need to be fresh, so skip rather than substituting dried.

Gazpacho Ingredients:

• 6-8 large tomatoes (very ripe)
• 2 cucumbers
• 1 large sweet red pepper
• 1/4 red onion
• juice of 1 lime (lemon if you don’t have lime)
• hand full of cilantro
• 2 sprigs of tarragon
• 1 small sprig of thyme
• small hand full of parsley
• tsp (+) salt
• 2 tsp Worcestershire sauce
• 1/4 c rice wine vinegar
• 1/4 c sherry vinegar
• 1/4 c (+) balsamic vinegar
• 1/4 c high quality virgin olive oil
• 5 (+) drops tabasco
• 2 (+/-) c vegetable juice

Remove pepper seeds and tomato cores. Peel cucumber. Remove stems from cilantro and parsley. Process all ingredients except vegetable juice in a food processor or food mill. Stir in vegetable juice to improve the texture of the soup and blend the flavors. Adjusting the taste: salt is the easy one. Balsamic vinegar can add a bit of sweetness (as does Worcestershire sauce). Lime gives a little spark. Tabasco provides the fire, but don’t got crazy or you lose the more subtle flavors.

Refrigerate for a couple of hours to let the flavors bloom. Serve cool to room temperature with bread, dipping oil, olives and sharp feta cheese. (I also understand that a good glass of Spanish red wine pairs well with this.)