Thank GOD our mill came with this headbanded, smiling man. He really made grinding corn and spelt on a Saturday night more fun than I imagine my commoner ancestors had it.
Of course, that’s fellow localvore Ryan, and Kristi on the hand crank. The mill is actually my brother’s. Liam, 25, a former Marine and Iraq war veteran and current out-of-control new-agey yoga teacher, Earth chakra seeker, raw foodist type has apparently been grinding his own flour for years. Who knew? Which is just to say, get to know your siblings. Because who knows what’s changed since we were all kids together. And they might have a mill that you might happen to need.
Ryan is holding the mill because this Ebay special kind of shook itself off of the counter, where it was clamped. But it made our milling party of five really feel like a party. Because people were always switching off, and no one was ever left alone, grinding, grinding, while the sound of laughter and clinking glasses floated in from the other room.
Members of our party each brought a few quarts each of whatever they wanted milled. The spelt milled easily down with one pass through the mill, while the harder wheats (like the Hadley wheat) we choose to put through twice. And, miraculously, the dent corn was ground down no problem into something that looks like it will make a very hearty polenta or porridge.
Only twice did someone (me!) pull the hopper off the rest of the thing and send grain flying all over. Here, enjoy some dark scenes from a mid-winter grain milling dinner party: