What Julia Ate

Cocoa Cake (sweetened with honey)

2012-01-20T09:08:00.000-05:00

My refined sugar-less month continues. I realize that my sugar-free January is not entirely sugar-free. Laura from Glutton For Life, who has a gorgeous and beautifully written site that you should subscribe to if you haven't already, has thrown down the gauntlet and proposed I take on a real challenge of entirely no sugar (in the comments of my last post). No fruit!? To me that is almost impossible to even think about. Inconceivable! says my inner Vizzini (Wallace Shawn in The Princess Bride). So, I said maybe next year. For now, I am learning plenty by making sure to eat sweets sweetened only with fruit, honey or maple syrup. I know agave has fallen out of favor, but I might succumb to Cashewtopia's Vanilla Bean gelato. It's really amazing.

I might be a big sugar-baby, but the emotional undercurrent of this detox has taken it's toll. I've had irrational moments in which I wanted to tear into cupcakes and chocolate bars. One of these moments prompted this cake. I think one of my biggest weaknesses is a chocolate cake. I don't need much, but I so desire it. In my impatience searching for a no-refined-sugar-added recipe online, I gave up when cakes with a 1/2 cup of honey also added a cup of sugar! That is an incredible amount of sugar, in my opinion. So, I riffed on some easy cakes in my repertoire and came up with this. It completely satisfied. And, ever the addict, although this cake is pleasantly not-sweet, I did drizzle some maple syrup on it and it fully squelched that cupcake piled with frosting lust I had been experiencing. It's also made in a snap. You can always add some sugar if you want, or more honey.

Cocoa Cake

1 cup of AP flour
1/2 teaspoon of baking soda
1/2 teaspoon of baking powder
1/4 salt
1/4 cup cocoa powder

Mix all dry ingredients thoroughly. My baking soda and powder often clump, and so does the cocoa, so I run my fingers through to disperse any clumps. I guess I could use a sifter, but I'm sort of a hands on kind of gal.

1/3 cup of oil (vegetable oil, though I bet coconut oil would be delicious)
1/4 cup of honey
1/2 cup buttermilk (yogurt would be fine here)
1 egg
1 tablespoon of vanilla

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease a square 8x8 pan. Mix wet ingredients to fully incorporate. Add to the dry ingredients quickly. Bake for about 20 to 25 minutes.

What it looks like in the Hudson Valley this morning.

Sugar-Free January

2012-01-15T11:27:00.000-05:00

Right now I'm in our basement, which is actually the coziest room in the house. There's a wood stove right next to a rough-hewn bar, and a very 70's style rec room that has the TV, a dart board and an old Wurlitzer organ, the Funmaker edition. I like to call it the Honeycomb Hideout, for those of you oldsters who remember the old cereal commercials. The rain is coming down, freezing and slushy, drumming on the metal Bilco doors that go to the backyard. It's a miserable January day, which I'm not all that disappointed in, as the days have been quite forgiving of late. Since the new year, we've been taking hikes down along the Hudson river and up on the Shaupeneak Ridge, favorite local walks of ours. My son's latest fascination is ice, so we've been finding safe spots to poke with sticks and crunch with our boots.

Another thing I've been doing is staying the course on my New Year's detox. I have been given up meat, dairy, alcohol and the biggest one for me, sugar. The sugar rules are this: for two weeks, nothing but fruit sweetened things. At week two, I will introduce honey and maple syrup. I was encouraged to go a full month without refined sugar by Rebecca at Cakewalk; originally my goal was two weeks. We set up a Facebook page in order to discuss our sugar-free month. It's a place where we can post links to recipes we can make, or recipes we are looking forward to making when we can eat sugar again. Or maybe complain about how badly we are craving something. Or talk about the dreams we have about food. So far, I've had dreams about eating blackberry jam filled donuts and a large spread that included charcuterie and cheeses. My dreams lately have been fairly obvious.

Let's also note that as I've removed these foods from my diet, my son and husband are still eating them. That means, I'm still cooking things like chicken and dumpling soup, and personal pizzas that I can't eat. It sounds horrendous, doesn't it? But it's really not that bad. I just keep on thinking about how quickly two weeks pass. On New Year's Day, I made pan-seared duck breast with quince jam, and I didn't eat it. Not sure if I'm stupid or strong, but I really didn't feel denied. I had sauteed kale with preserved lemon and baked french fries, and they were incredibly savory. (Did you read Mark Bittman's article and recipes in the Times magazine on going semi-vegan?)

I'm most fascinated by giving up sugar, probably because I've never done it before. Never crossed my mind! What's most interesting about it is how many things there are that you don't think have sugar in them. Like some of my homemade pickles. Oops! Forgot they have sugar. Or almost all condiments, aside from mustard and soy sauce or tamari. I realized that I pop a piece of gum or a pastille more often than I thought. And I knew this, but coming to terms with it was hard: how many muffins, pancakes, cookies or sweet breads I eat. I don't think the baked goods I eat are entirely bad for me, as they are homemade and I always lower the sugar, but they are pervasive.

One of the reasons I gave up sugar is that I need to be more responsible with it. This idea comes from watching my son start to have a similar relationship to sugar. I was starting to see how most of his diet was in some way sweet: toast with jam, peanut butter and jelly, yogurt with fruit. He used to eat everything, but slowly he's begun to refuse the savory items. In the short time I've giving up sugar, he's most certainly been eating better too.

I think the best thing I've learned, so far, from giving these things up, especially the sugar, is that you become more thoughtful about them. I think a big problem with how people eat today is that they are attached to craving something. People used to eat the same thing everyday, with special things every once in a while. Now we can have those special things every day, whenever we want.

Another benefit of cramping your style is that you get out of your cooking ruts. I found that when I needed a quick snack I would most often melt cheese on top of something. If you're concerned at all about your weight, you'll agree that this is not a good idea. Now I keep a container of brown rice in the fridge. My quick indulgent snack is rice with avocado on top, sprinkled with a bit of tamari. (Not that I will ever give up grilled cheese sandwiches. They are one of the best things in life.)

The foods that I am allowed are better than I ever thought. The other night I was craving a sweet and I ended up with a banana. And it was one of the best bananas I've had in a long time. There's no doubt that the reason being was because of giving up sugar. My palate has been cleansed. My best friends for the first two weeks have been fruit and dried fruit. And it's amazing how sweet they are. Now I'm on to honey and maple syrup, and I must say I am breathing a sigh of relief. It's really easy to make things with those two, and I won't feel so denied. However, I'm still dreaming of that jelly donut.

Here's some of the things I had to sweeten things up:

Apple Cider Syrup: This is a brilliant thing to have on hand. Lots of recipes add sugar, but really all you need to do is boil down apple cider. I used 8 cups and boiled it down to almost 1 cup. It's not super sweet, and has tons of deep apple flavor.

Applesauce: I like to make a chunky version with a few pounds of mixed apples, a little more than a splash of apple cider, a tablespoon of apple cider vinegar, and a sprinkle of cinnamon. The vinegar boosts the natural sweetness of the apples, and, along with the cider, also deepens the apple flavor.

Dried Fruit and Nut Balls: Sounds dismal, right? A handful of apricots and a handful of almonds thrown in a food processor, with a little cider syrup to bind are just amazing, actually. There are a ton of variations on the internet. I'm going to make some with some cocoa added today.

Banana Cocoa Muffins: This link is to a great article on NPR about baking with sweet alternatives. I made the muffins, scroll down to see the recipe, and they were great.

Fruit-Sweetened Jam: Whoah, this was a revelation for me. We eat jam everyday. It's my profession now! But you know what, that's a lot of sugar in there. I just made a strawberry raspberry jam with Pomona's pectin, and it does the trick. I can't believe I've never done this before. Now, our everyday jam is no-sugar, and my regular jams (for my personal stash I use about 60% sugar) are for special times.

Vegan Fruit-Sweetened Applesauce Cake: I ate this so quickly that I didn't even take a picture. My son loved it too! I want to develop a banana bread and carrot cake version, too.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a square 8"x8" pan.

2 cups white whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon of baking soda
1/2 teaspoon of salt
1/2 cup of vegetable oil
1 cup of applesauce
1/2 cup of cider syrup
1/4 cup of raisins

Add mixed wet ingredients to mixed dry ingredients quickly. Pour and smooth in pan, bake for about 30 minutes.

Did you give anything up? Have you given up sugar? What did you eat? I'd love to know.

My besties, clockwise from right: dates, prunes, apricots, and swoon, dates covered in coconut.

Holiday Cocktails, Part II

2011-12-30T21:33:00.002-05:00

Please, come have a drink with me!

The new year is upon us, and I hope it's not cliché but I'm making quite a few resolutions for the first month of the year. Mostly about cleansing my system: I am giving up alcohol, meat, dairy and sugar for two weeks, and the two following weeks will be a slow re-entry back to those things. I have never, ever given up sugar and to be perfectly frank, I am petrified. I am also working on other things in my life, both physically (be more active in the winter) and emotionally (be more grateful). I often don't give New Year's too much sway in my life, but this year I'm feeling it a bit more. I really, really want to be a better me. There's no quitting involved here, but there is a pause I feel is necessary.

But! I've still got one more day to revel in the indulgent things. And they are really good things. A while back the really great people at No. 3 Gin London Dry Gin sent me a spectacular present. Not only a bottle of No. 3 Gin, but bonus, The King's Ginger, an amazing ginger liqueur. They wanted to know if my Calamondin Cocktail would suit the No. 3 well. I have good news, it did all that and more. The No. 3 Gin is a really fine gin: smooth, herbaceous and warm with a piney juniper bite to it. It makes a mean dry martini, but it also mixes well, which to be honest, I was surprised by.

It really makes you want to kick back...

The King's Ginger is amazing, I was really impressed with it. It would make a great hot toddy, and in all truthiness, the thought did cross my mind that next time I was sick with a cold, I might need a shot of it. It's that good, and I think it even may be good for you. Listen, lest you roll your eyes at me, alcohol is a tonic! I am sure I will be revisiting The King's Ginger in this blog. I think it might figure into some jam recipes down the road.

[Please note: I loved receiving these gifts, but my opinions are my own. If it wasn't good stuff, I wouldn't be talking about it.]

***

King's Ginger, No. 3 Gin, citrus syrup and a gin cordial*

This is a drink that is sure to satisfy the preserver and drinker alike. After you've made candied citrus peels, you are left with a lot of lovely citrus-y syrup, thick and very sweet. I find it a lovely thing to put in a cocktail, but sparingly. This is not a simple syrup. If you don't have candied citrus syrup (which you may indeed not) use a nice soft marmalade instead. If you have a firm marmalade, heat it up a bit before using it to soften it, and keep the chunks in. The bitter-citrus-sweet of a marmalade added to a drink is a natural! In this situation, it marries well with both the ginger and the gin.

Maybe it's my impending cleanse that's making me think thoughts like this, but I sat down and really thought about how this drink made me feel. This macrobiotic book I like always tells you to be thoughtful about how the food feels or makes you feel. Well, this drink made me feel warm, a swell to the chest, my throat felt warm and my forehead tingly. Isn't that what a cocktail ought to do? (It might have helped that I was watching Ernie Kovacs at the time. Have you ever? Watching even a few minutes will make anyone feel a tad altered. I do think Ernie would have approved.)

The Gin-Gin

1 ounce of No. 3 Gin
1 ounce of The King's Ginger
1 spoonful of candied citrus syrup (between a teaspoon and tablespoon, depending on your tastes) or a simple marmalade
soda water

Mix the gin, the King's Ginger and the syrup in a tall glass of ice and stir well. Strain into a small coupe glass. I like to top it with a splash of soda water, but you could pass on this. Garnish with a piece of candied ginger, candied citrus, both, or just a slice of orange peel. This will make one or two small cocktails, depending on your glass size. Mine are ridiculously small, but I like that. Trying to keep it together here, people.

***

This is a standard Gibson, but I used slices of pickled red onions for it, instead of pearl onions. There are a million recipes for pickled red onions, but here's one from David Lebovitz or Simply Recipes, two fine resources. You should always have them in the fridge. They are a sandwich, and cocktail, staple.

The Preserver's Gibson

1 ounce of gin
a whisper of vermouth
a few thin slices of red onion pickles

Mix gin and vermouth in a large glass of ice. Stir that up! Strain into a nice martini glass, and garnish with some pickle slices. Sometimes I slip in a little bit of the brine.

* Did you see that quart jar of gin cordial? A dear friend with fabulous taste gave that to me for the holidays. It's a gin cordial with clementine, kumquat, coriander and black pepper. Wow! I think she based it on this recipe from the always inspiring Melissa Clark.

Bigos, or Polish Hunter's Stew

2011-12-19T21:31:00.000-05:00

Winter solstice is here, and the shortest day and longest night is upon us. I love celebrating this event, because it means we are on the way back to longer and warmer days. Even though it won't feel like it's happening for a long time, it's still happening. The days will soon be getting longer.

As we dip into the thick of winter, I have noticed that now is also when the freezer and cupboards start to take a hit. The freezer is already low, and I will have to start looking for good prices on good local meat, in large quantities, which is how I generally work it. I was hoping for a friend to get a doe or two this season, and I was going to help her break it down. I was really excited for this: venison kielbasa, venison salami! But it didn't happen. Deer season came and went. That's when I thought I might make rabbit. I've been thinking of rabbit for a while now. And I searched high and low, but no luck.

What I was looking to make was buttermilk fried rabbit, a recipe from Georgia Pellegrini's new book, Girl Hunter: Revolutionizing the Way We Eat, One Hunt at a Time. An advance copy was recently sent to me by the publisher and I inhaled it, as fast as I could, ready to make one of these recipes. But, the only place that had rabbit, had it frozen and $10 a pound, and I just couldn't pay $30 for rabbit. It seemed ironic to me that driving home the other day I passed a rabbit on my street that had been hit by a car. It's not a common sighting in my neighborhood, although we do have rabbits around. I couldn't help but to think, as it was quite fresh, hmmm. Is that my rabbit? But, I'm not that hardcore, and I do have a couple of squeamish bones in my body, so I declined the free meat. My fear made me think of Georgia, and her book, and what she does. One of the notes I wrote to myself as I read the sneak peak at her book was this: that woman does not look away. She is incredibly brave. She does it in a very subtle manner, so that you don't notice her grit, but once you start thinking about it you see it everywhere. There's also this: she's a great writer, of stories and recipes.

The book is laid out, somewhat similarly to her first book, Food Heroes, as journeys that focus on a type of game that she learns to hunt. There are colorful characters, mostly men, and Georgia holds her own among them. It's a gripping and solemn book despite the somewhat tongue-in-cheek title, mostly because she takes it so seriously, both the hunting and the ethics behind what she's doing. There is some fun, a hunt across the pond that sounded like a lot of fun, and lots of whiskey drinking (though it seems no one gets drunk). I did wish I heard about some other women hunters, because they are out there. But, it's not a how-to or an overview, it's one woman's personal foray into the world of hunting, and how it takes over her life. Let's not forget: there are many fine recipes, both for the game she hunts and their accompaniments, brines and sauces, etc. The last thirty pages or so of the book are really a quite fabulous cookbook.

As I continue to make my way in a life that favors a peasant-y, home made and home grown foods, I have often wondered when I might consider hunting. One of the things I want to start with is fishing. I'll be honest and say that I'm not sure I could be a good hunter. But I do know I am a decent home butcher, so maybe that's a start. Hunting seems to have gotten a bad rap over the past fifty years, and I wish industrialized meat had gotten it instead. Maybe we can work on that.

In the meantime, instead of rabbit or venison, today I'm making Bigos, the Polish hunter's stew, I think it's a fitting meal for a short, cold day and a nod to the hunter. Traditionally, Bigos was a winter dish, sometimes left on the stove to cook for a week, new ingredients added as they were taken out. It was also something served on the 2nd day of Christmas, so I am close. There is no set way to make it, or at least according to me, you may disagree if you are Polish! Lots of meat and lots of cabbage is the general rule. Some folks use tomatoes, I never do. I used only ham hocks for this one, but pork shoulder, sausage (kielbasa, of course) and bacon is the norm. I found that the ham I made over the summer goes very well in this, too, which is good because I've got a ton of ham steaks in the freezer.

Bigos

2 medium onions, chopped coarsely
2 carrots, peeled and chopped in two (go ahead and dice if you like, I prefer large chunks of carrot)
2 medium potatoes, peeled, diced
1 medium head of cabbage, sliced finely for a nice shred
1 to 2 cups of sauerkraut
meat: kielbasa, bacon, ham hock, ham steak, venison, etc., fresh or cooked, chopped how you like it
salt and pepper to taste
secret ingredient: 1-2 tablespoons of candied pickled apples (recipe from Liana Krissoff's wonderful book, Canning for a New Generation. I can't live without this stuff!)

Sauté the onions in olive oil (or bacon fat, if you have it) until golden brown. Add the meat, and brown it. In my case, I used one large ham hock, so I just put it in on top of the onions and started adding everything around it. After browning---less if the meat is cooked already, like ham or kielbasa, a little more if it needs to be cooked---add all the rest of the ingredients. (It will be cooking for an hour or two, so no worries about being cooked through.) At this point you could take the whole shebang to a slow cooker to finish it off, which I sometimes do, with great results. Otherwise, keep it in your pot or Dutch or French oven, and cover it, keeping it at a low simmer. The cabbage will release it's water and create a great broth. You don't want too much liquid, as bigos is a dry-ish stew. Cook it for about an hour and a half. The potatoes and carrots should be tender. If you are willing to last longer, go for three hours. That's why the crock pot is nice.

Traditionally, bigos is served with mashed potatoes. Obviously, I don't do this, and instead put my potatoes right in the stew, making this a one pot (or maybe two) dish. When it's ready, I just serve hot bowls of it, with some warmed rye bread and butter.

Sugar Drop Cookies with Cornmeal and Olive Oil

2011-12-14T08:57:00.001-05:00

I had high hopes for this holiday season. When I posted about my holiday cocktails, I was just swinging into it. Then I got this miserable cold that clutched my bronchi for two weeks. The whole family got it, of course, and that means no sleep when you most need it. So, boo-hoo, right? I'm better now, but the season seems to have soured for me. I've never been one much for Christmas, to be very honest, and the only reason I am now starting to be swayed by it's glitter and sweets and mystery is that my son is just starting to be enthralled by it. How can I not enjoy that sparkle in his eyes when he sees trees lit up?

What I really do enjoy celebrating now though, is the solstice. It's a quiet celebration, one spent walking one of the nearby preserves. More and more, as I get older and especially now that I get up so early, I look forward to the darkest day with much anticipation. I feel as if there is something to said in that. Welcoming the darkest day, as it slowly creeps towards us, feels like something powerful. To really accept the winter fully and respect it for what it is, the only way we can reach renewal, to return to the green.

It's not that I wasn't deeply affected by Christmas myself as a child. Buying a tree, standing it in the foyer with the old red towel, decorating it. Begging my parents for tinsel which was considered vulgar. Wrapping up sticks I found in the yard for my dog, Moro. We got clementines in our stocking, and pieces of coal, as well, my parents making sure to not let us think we were that good. I think I remember taping a few Christmases, with a tape recorder, then a new-fangled technology for us. We always ate fish on New Year's Eve, smelts and octopus in keeping with the Italian tradition of the feast of seven fishes. Breakfast was usually homemade croissants that I helped form with my mother the day before. We always made gingerbread men, which I never truly loved to eat, but I always enjoyed dressing them with raisin buttons. Anise cookies, Pfeffernüsse and the requisite rolled sugar cookies were also in our cookie rotation.

In keeping with the age old cookie-making tradition, we've been making cookies nearly every day. My son is at the age now that he really loves to measure out the flour and spoonfuls of various leavening and spices. The funny thing is that he rarely eats the cookies we make! I've been bringing them around to friends because otherwise I'll eat them all. These cookies are a riff on the jam-filled thumbkins that folks like me (who have a cupboard full of jams, that is) like to make. They are lightly sweet with a toothsome chew from the cornmeal. Best of all, they are incredibly easy to make!

Sugar Drop Cookies with Cornmeal and Olive Oil

Preheat oven to 375 degrees

2 cups AP flour
1/2 cup yellow cornmeal, not a finely ground one
1 1/2 teaspoons of baking powder
1/4 teaspoon of salt

Mix the dry ingredients. Mix the wet ingredients, below, in a separate bowl.

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil

2 eggs

1 tablespoon of cherry pit liqueur or almond extract

Add the wet to dry ingredients, as you mix it will change from a smooth thick batter to a somewhat dry dough. Using a measuring tablespoon, scoop out balls of dough, roll them between your palms, roll them in extra sugar, and place them on your parchment paper covered tray. I like to use my measuring teaspoon to indent a bowl shaped pit in the middle of the cookie dough ball. Then I use that spoon to fill with jam. I used a fig fennel vanilla jam, which went amazingly well with the dough, and a raspberry jam, which was pretty but seeped a little. Use a jam that's firm, and not syrupy or it will seep into the cookie and not look as pretty. I covered them with sliced almonds. Bake them for 10 to 12 minutes.

While you are at the cookie thing, check out Tigress' virtual cookie party (tonight!) and cook book giveaway. She is giving away a bunch of amazing books, and there will be cookie camaraderie to boot. You can bet I will be there, with a plate packed with cookies!

Branches from the yard dressed up until we get a tree.

Smoked Deviled Eggs

2011-12-05T20:27:00.001-05:00

Nope, I didn't make the salami, but that's next. Photo: Peter Genzer.

This post is a fond farewell to Charcutepalooza, The Year of Meat. You'll remember how back in January a frenzy over all things cured, smoked, brined and stuffed among other things began to bubble over here. Herewith are my posts for 9 months out of 12. It was about August when things started falling apart due to preserving, not to mention starting a small jam company, but there was plenty of good stuff that happened before that.

January: Duck Prosciutto
February: Bacon, Guanciale
March: Corned Beef
April: Smoked Trout and Bluefish
May: Breakfast and Dinner Sausage
June: Sweet, Sweet Italian Sausage
July: Bratwurst
August: Bacon, Smoked Ham, Ham Hocks, Live Paté Even, But No Terrine!
September: Fine Live Paté

The final challenge is to show off, and although I didn't quite do that, I did feel that a small soirée I had recently brought together some of the things I made and learned over the course of the year. I served Fine Liver Paté studded with pistachios, served with pickled red okra and homemade mustard. Smoked bluefish salad. And the center piece was smoked pulled pork, a mash up of Momofuku's pulled pork recipe that Yummy Supper turned me onto and Ruhlman and Polcyn's pulled pork recipe from Charcuterie.

(Notes on the pork: I basically followed the Momofuku recipe, except that I smoked the meat for the first three hours of cooking time using hickory chips, at a temperature of 250 degrees. The liquid left in the pot after the oven roasting time is pure gold, and you can dip bread into it while drunkenly standing around the stovetop, or you can save it. Or both! It will turn into jelly with a layer of fat on top. Scrape the fat off, maybe cook some potatoes in it. The jelly makes an amazing base for a smoky, meaty cauliflower cheddar soup.)

But the revelation was the hickory smoked deviled eggs. While I smoked the meat I tossed in two dozen hard-boiled eggs with the shells removed. Depending on how close they are to the smoke, leave them in around 15 minutes to a half hour. They will be browned, like a tea-stained egg. The filling was pretty standard, except for the spoonful of white miso I put in it. Did I also mention that the eggs are from my own chickens? I'll bet that this is totally doable on a stovetop smoker, for you urban smokers out there!

So, thank you to Cathy of Mrs. Wheelbarrow's Kitchen and Kim of the Yummy Mummy for cooking up this amazing challenge! I've learned so much from this. Reading all of the posts from many amazing people who took it and ran with it is so inspiring. Look at some this particular round up, for starters. Amazing! And I can't wait to see who gets to go to France for the grand prize!

I didn't take pictures. Too busy eating. (And drinking!) Photo: Peter Genzer.

Holiday Cocktails

2011-11-11T12:57:00.001-05:00

Today just took a hard turn towards winter. The past few days have been glorious, and I've been basking in them. But today, as I take a long drive to pick up some jars, and lemon juice, I'm reminded it's closer to winter than summer, as huge pearl gray clouds begin to cover the sky, and against them large flocks of starlings switchback to and fro. The traffic lights sway at a red light, and I'm transfixed by the grace of these normally invasive and destructive birds as they dart and race as one huge being under the ever-darkening sky. On the drive home, the bare trees strike me as beautiful but I know all too well how suffocating their starkness will be come February. The oaks have molted, they are usually the last leaves to drop, and the sides of the road glisten with their glossy, tawny shine.

Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and one of the solaces of chilly nights is a sparkly cocktail, isn't it? Instead of bemoaning the warmer weather, I'm going to make sure I get a spiffy cocktail once in a while. I'm a lightweight these days, and I'll be honest: these cocktails go down waaaay too easily. But starting the night with a small drink is always special. Then you can switch to a glass of wine or beer. You have to find a way to drink all those lovely infused liqueurs you've made over the summer, don't you? Not to mention the jams, preserves and candied fruits. Drink 'em!

***

I started a few friendly dinners this summer with this cocktail, and it was always a welcome way to start the night. I think it would be perfect for the holidays, too. I used sour cherry preserves, and some black cherry brandy that I had made, but I think this drink can be made with a good many different things. All you need is the bubbles, the St. Germain, a nice soft preserve and a fruit liqueur. (P.S. I tried to make elderflower liqueur once, and I failed miserably. I can't tell you how much I love St. Germain! I'll never try to make it again. It's just one of those things.)

The St. Jam-main

Drop a syrupy preserved cherry into the bottom of a small coupe glass. Add a teaspoon of black cherry liqueur, and a teaspoon of St. Germain. Top with sparkling wine or champagne or prosecco, but please make it a dry one!

***

The other day I had some friends over that I used to work with, and we started the night with these Calamondin Cocktails. Isn't it the nicest thing in the world to not see someone for ten years, and be laughing and talking like that gap of time had never happened? I can't tell you how much I laughed that night! And it wasn't just the cocktails! This drink is made with calamondin gin that I made last winter. To make it: fill a quart jar with calamondins, add one cup of sugar and fill to the top with gin (conversely you can use vodka, but I like the taste of gin with the small bitter citrus). Let it sit in a dark cupboard for a month, agitating every other day. Click here for the candied calamondin recipe.

Calamondin Cocktail

2 ounces gin or vodka (either works fine, depends on your preference)
1 ounce calamondin gin liqueur
1 ounce or less of calamondin syrup (from the candied calamondins)
juice of half a lime
seltzer to finish
garnish with candied calamondin

Shake the gin/vodka, the calamondin liqueur, syrup and lime juice together with ice. Strain neat, in a small rocks glass and top with seltzer. Let a candied calamondin sink to the bottom.

***

And now that the wood stove is cranking, we might need to have one of these by the fire from time to time. Last year, I packed a quart jar with small crabapples, added a cup of sugar and filled it with spiced rum. Next time I won't add the sugar, as it's very sweet, but it makes a top notch toddy. You really don't need to add a thing, but the lemon and cinnamon are a nice touch.

Crabapple Spiced Rum Toddy, a short poem

One ounce of crabapple spiced rum
four ounces of hot water,
add a squeeze of lemon and
stir with a cinnamon stick.

Of course, I am partial to this article by Melissa Clark from the NY Times for more liqueur and libation recipes. Let me know what you've been sipping lately or making!

Cutting a Quince

2011-10-23T20:49:00.001-04:00

Can you believe a fruit fly got on my nice picture?

A week or two ago I went for a winding ride, which is always a pleasure this time of year. The clouds were high and puffy, and the sun perfectly warm, the breeze perfectly cool, and best of all, my son, now three years old, fell asleep as we drove. The nap is a rarity these days, but for the most part, it's still very welcome. You know when you are driving and you sort of think you know where you're going, but you couldn't say precisely the way you were going? I knew where I wanted to end up, but I was guessing at the turns I was taking. Well, all the turns I took got me to where I was going in a perfect sort of way, sort of the way you wish life went all the time. I pulled into the driveway that has a small sign saying, Locust Grove Fruit Farm. No one was there, and I was able to get out and take in the view of the Hudson, which stretched out below the fruit tree lined hill.

I let a few minutes pass before I called the number to reach someone. They answer the phone like it's their home, which it is, and I say I'm down by the barn, to buy quinces. There's some confusion even though I've called ahead, as they're older and the cell phone doesn't have the best sound. "She wants to buy quinces!" I hear the woman say loudly, and I can tell the man, her husband, finally gets it, and says he'll be right there. I've talked to the whole family, but I've talked with her the most, and we've chatted about canning, mostly. "Most people don't want to talk about canning these days," she told me, wistfully, "but I hear it's changing."

I squint in the sun at all the trees around me. When he arrives a few slow minutes later, he leads me into the barn and is quite proud to show me his quinces. "Look at these. Amazing, aren't they?" he asks, and I agree. They are gorgeous, sweet-smelling quinces, covered with a bit of fuzz, half green, a bit of yellow shining through. "People don't realize how hard this all is," he says, waving his hand at the bins of apples and quinces. We talk some more, and he shows me some pears in the large cooler, and we agree we both like Bartletts better than Boscs. I notice a few pints of raspberries off to the side, and ask if there are any more. "Nope," he says, and when I ask to buy them, he says,"they're expensive." I take them anyway, as I never got enough of them this year.

He carries the forty-pound box out to my car, though it's probably not as easy as it once was. He gives me two Bartlett pears to eat. I give him a jar of jam for his wife. As I drive home, my son still sleeping, the smell of the quinces fills the slightly hot car. I think about the quince jam I'm going to make, the jelly, and of course, some membrillo. I think of how long those quince trees have been producing; the farm has been working since 1820! It makes me feel like I've got time in a box, sweet smelling time, and I'm going home to make it last even longer.

I know that lately there is a lot of interest in quinces, although some people never stopped being interested in them. One of the daunting things about quinces is that they are so hard, you sometimes wonder how to approach them. I've been chopping up quite a few of these, and this is how I do it. How much do you love quinces? What are you making with them? Leave a link, or recipe, or both!

Autumn Musings and Lots of Apples

2011-10-09T10:47:00.001-04:00

As I walk out of the house the past few mornings, along with a deep lungful of crisp air that smells like melting frost, I hear a lone cicada rasping its mating call. It's a beautifully strong sound, but filled with loss in that I know those final few clicks won't last long. The odds are stacked up against us, the cicada and me, autumn has arrived, and winter is not far off.

Please make some jam out of these Italian prune plums. You'll thank me later.

It's been a strange season ever since the storms Irene and Lee passed through. Aside from the obvious guillotined harvest season, there have been lots of bugs. Merciless mosquitoes, stink bugs aplenty, and now ticks are back in full force. Usually September is the month for festivals and fun, but it was dampened by continuous rain and bugs that kept you inside. Now, we are noticing a late foliage season. Lots of my sugar maples, often bright yellow and gold, have already dropped their leaves, and those leaves were brown and crunchy from the seemingly endless rain. When I stop at farm stands, it's often the topic of conversation, and with it comes the inevitable long face for this is the season to make some money before the cold comes. People are jubilant that this weekend, touristy Columbus day weekend, is gorgeous. Thank goodness.

One of my favorite grapes: Niagara.

It's still been a busy season for me, making jam after jam after jam. Right now I am still slogging through a lot of apples (like 100 pounds a lot). This week I'll be getting a case of quinces, some concord grapes, and the thought of all this preserving just sends sort of a shiver through my mind. It's the fear of the onslaught, but of course it's exciting nonetheless, with its delicious ideas: conserves, jellies and preserves!

There is something about walking through an apple orchard...

The beginnings of my apples have yielded me applesauce, jelly and a new favorite, Caramel Apple Jam from Linda Ziedrich's Joy of Jams, Jellies, and Other Sweet Preserves. My favorite (read: easiest) way to get through a lot of apples is to quarter them, about six pounds at a time, and just barely cover them with water in a large stock pot. Bring them to a boil and let them simmer for about ten minutes. Drain them, reserving the juice for jelly. The cooked part gets put through a food mill, and becomes a jam, butter, or unsweetened applesauce.

If you are familiar with New Paltz, you can make out Mohonk in the distance.

I make sure to cut out the blossom end of the apple before quartering them, to ensure a good jelly. There's an enzyme in that part that inhibits the pectin's strength. To make this little annoying step go quicker, I've found that a teeny tiny melon baller does the trick. Melon ballers seem obscure, but I can't tell you how much they come in handy, and not just for that vodka-soaked watermelon ball boat. (Do you know what I'm talking about?) Regular sized ones are perfect for coring pears.

My teeny-tiny melon baller.

For tons of great info on cooking and preserving apples, take a look at these great links:

Preserving Apples from Local Kitchen (the most recent post of which is Apple Bourbon Butter!)

Preserving Autumn - Apples from Well Preserved

Apple Recipes on Punk Domestics

I'd love to hear what you are preserving this autumn. Leave a comment!

Canning Tomato Sauce with a Vitamix

2011-09-23T21:02:00.000-04:00

Do you have a Vitamix? I just was gifted one, and it came at the perfect time: just when I was about to can 150 pounds of tomatoes. Tomato season is about done in my parts, so I could have said this earlier, but for future reference, if you have one of these splendiferous blenders you can cut your tomato saucing time in half. This is starting to sound like a commercial, but...No peeling! No straining!

I chopped my tomatoes into big chunks, and, as you can see below, they were huge. I did chop out some cores that seemed a big woody. Put them all in the blender, seeds, skins and all, and turn it on, quickly go from 1 to 10, and then to high, until all the seeds are gone, about a minute or less. Each batch gets tossed into a big stockpot on a low flame to heat, while you continue the process. Proceed with your usual tomato saucing/canning techniques.

That's how I canned 150 pounds of tomatoes this year by myself!

Fine Liver Pâté

2011-09-15T08:07:00.000-04:00

Out of the freezer for a photo op.

Well, this is the only picture I have at the moment, so it's not much of a seller, but I can assure you that this pâté will make you the belle of the ball. Maybe for ten minutes. To the one person who is eating it all. But that's okay. I'll take any recognition I can get. But seriously, can you puree something? Well then you can make some excellent pâté. The real question is: can you puree pork liver? Because, you know, some people think they can't. But you can!

I'll be honest, the blubbery mass that is the pig's liver is a bit slippery and a tad smelly, in a fresh liver kind of way. When I received my half of a pig, I had asked for all the organs and I received a huge liver. I think it was more than one liver. So, with two pounds of liver on my hands I made the easiest thing I could find, which was this recipe from The New York Times Cookbook, the original from 1961, edited by Craig Claiborne.

Because no one can eat that much pâté, I wondered and searched for a tip on freezing. And I found it from none other than Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall (the tip is the very last sentence of the article!). The trick to freezing pâté is to freeze it before you cook it! Et voila. I did this, and that's why I have one pan waiting for the holidays. The other was unveiled at a friend's birthday party, surrounded by slices of pickled pears, and I can attest, as well as one other party attendee, that it was superb.

Fine Liver Pâté
Adapted from The NYT Cook Book

2 pounds of pork liver, cubed
3 eggs
1/3 cup of pear brandy (or cognac)
1 cup of heavy cream
2/3 cup fresh pork fat
1 onion, chopped
1/2 cup flour
5 teaspoons of salt
1 teaspoon of ground ginger
2 teaspoons of fresh ground pepper (I like it coarsely ground, with some sprinkled on top for appearances)

Use some rendered fat to grease two bread pans well. I used ceramic loaf pans. Purée the liver, eggs, brandy and cream. Add the flour, onion and fat a little at a time. It will be quite a lot of pinkish liquid meat. Pour into a bowl and add the seasonings, mix well. Pour into your pan and cover with plastic wrap, so that the wrap clings to the purée. Then cover well with aluminum. Freeze on a level shelf.

When you want to cook it, pull it a good day before you want to cook it. Put it in the fridge and let it thaw slowly. Once fully defrosted pull off the aluminum so you can remove the plastic wrap. Put the aluminum foil back on. Bake in a pan of water in a 325 degree oven for about two hours. There's no toothpick method here, you just have to know what your looking for. I pulled mine when the edges were pulling from the sides and getting dark. Serve on a platter with pickled pears.

This post is for the ninth installment of Charcutepalooza!

Love my CorningWare!

A Port in Every Plum Jam

2011-09-07T09:23:00.001-04:00

A lot has happened in the last two weeks! Or is it now three? An earthquake followed by a tropical storm, days of power out, major flooding, and now, more rain. It felt like we lost a week with the storm---preparing for it and then getting back to normal. We were left relatively unscathed. I didn't have to kayak to my house, or get my belongings sucked down a river, or see months of tough farming that was just about to pay off get doused in the fires of flooding, like some friends did. The pond was overflowing, many roads were closed, and the neighborhood had a house burn down. Pumpkins bobbed in the nearby Hudson river, a sign of the fields lost to the flooding. We lost our power for only three days, and thankfully our generator kept the chest freezer, which was packed to the gills, nice and cold.

Our street, our stream.

While the power was out, I had a bunch of garden tomatoes waiting to be salsa. Thank goodness I had just finished 150 pounds of tomato sauce the two weeks before. There were also four pounds of black plums macerating in the fridge. And boy, did they macerate. They sat for five days! I was waiting for the storm to pass, then for the power to go back on, then finally, once we got the fridge on the generator, I opened it up to pull the plums. That day I made the jam. That night the power came back on. Figures. I do have a gas stove, so there was no worries there---it was just the lack of water that was stopping me, both for cleaning and canning. Ends up, I never had to go borrow water.

How are you doing? I hope that if you weathered the storm, that you didn't sustain too much damage!

Thank you, Coleman lamp.

A Port in Every Plum Jam

4 pounds of black plums, halved and pits removed
1 1/2 pounds of sugar

Combine and let macerate in a turned off fridge for a few days! Without the storm, I would've let them macerate a day or two in the fridge. But maceration is the boon of the preserver. It always buys you time. These firm plums probably stood up to the sugar bath better than most fruit, though.

Pull the plum mixture and put in your jamming pot. Add:

1 pound of sugar
2 tablespoons of lemon juice

Bring the mixture to a boil, and let it cook at a boil until it reaches the gel stage, or 220 degrees on a candy thermometer. This will take about twenty minutes from the time it starts to boil. When the gel stage has been reached, turn off the heat and add:

two hearty glugs of port wine
a few coarse grinds of fresh black pepper

Stir to combine. Ladle into hot jars and process in a boiling water bath for ten minutes.

Cream cheese pastries.

These cream cheese wafers? cookies? pastries? are super easy to make. I used a 1/2 stick of butter and 6 ounces of cream cheese, pulsing them in the food processor with a quarter teaspoon of salt and a cup of flour, until they were thoroughly combined and looked like coarse gravel. Dumped into a bowl, you can then form the dough with a few kneads of your hands. Let the dough chill for an hour (or a few days, like I did). Roll and cut out circles. I egg washed and topped them with sesame seeds. Bake them for 8 to 10 minutes at 400 degrees. Make sure to let them cool well. If you eat them immediately they won't be quite as good---believe me! But do make sure to eat them up right within a day or two. They don't age well. This makes about twenty wafers.

Bacon, Smoked Ham, Ham Hocks, Liver Paté even, but no Terrine!

2011-08-15T21:51:00.000-04:00

Box one of two.

Many people ask me, "How do you do it all?" Meaning, how do I find the time to do all the things I do, and write about them, and photograph them. Well, I often reply, I don't! Not all of it. There's so much I don't do. Like cleaning. And calling my friends more. And reading. I'd also like to point out that most of the things I do are very easy, once you get them into your routine. Bonus, if you really like making yogurt or bread or jam. Some people don't.

A few weeks ago, I started getting really exhausted. My back started bothering me a lot. Gardening and lifting my thirty-pound toddler had been taking a toll. I took out a few yoga videos from the library because I knew what I needed was some good stretching. As I read the back covers of the DVDs, I thought disdainfully: I don't have time for yoga!

And then I had this second thought: Seriously? I don't have time to not do yoga! It's funny, because I'm talking like some high-powered executive. Well, let's be real, shall we? I happen to be a homesteady-obsessed stay-at-home mommy of one toddler. Not exactly Soulemama, right? Rather rationally, I thought to myself: you need to cut something out. And immediately it came to me, clear as a bell: the blog.

I love the blog. I don't want to kill the blog, I screamed! Let me tell you what the blog does for me. It wraps up a few of my favorite things--writing, photography, food-- in one fell swoop. It also deeply satisfies a few other cravings I have. That of connecting with people who care about similar things, and the documentarian in me, so I can go back and see what I made and how I made it. But the quick and dirty fact about the blog, and it sounds so horrible, but this thing is not a paying gig, you know? And there are some things I need to be focusing on, that take precedence over something that is solely a self-centered pleasure.

Once I stopped obsessing about the blog, I suddenly felt a wave of relief. And then panic. And then a realization that I had been blogging for almost two years with no break! Maybe I'm just tired, I thought. Maybe I need to recharge. I'm not sure I can do this was a thought. Well, I'm not going to end my blog. I actually can't! Not because I think anybody will miss it. But, because I will miss it. Not because it's important to anyone. But because it's important to me. I'm trying to figure out how to make sure it doesn't take over my life, and that means keeping my nose out of Twitter and Facebook, much as I like to socialize. And maybe not posting every little victual I cook up.

And that brings me to this month's Charcutepalooza challenge. One of the things I also realized about having this blog, is that I've become a better cook for it. Joining Tigress' Can Jam and then Charcutepalooza really have pushed me to strive a little; something that's really not in my nature. I'm more of a perservere-er. (Very similar to the word preserver!) But this month's terrine challenge I really had no gumption for, even though I really wanted to make something, perhaps this tomato terrine from Bon Appétit. I was a little too overwhelmed, having ordered a half hog from Meiller's Slaughterhouse in Pine Plains.

After curing and smoking ten pounds of bacon, 3.5 pound of hocks, and a twenty-two pound ham, and making two huge loaves of liver paté, I was sort of exhausted (though it looks like I may be in luck for next month). Maybe that's what tipped me over the edge. That and the heat we were having at the time. Now it's been gorgeous out, the humidity and haze has lifted, and the air is clear and crisp making each leaf on a tree stand out. Every blade of grass looks distinct. The sky is blue with puffy clouds, the trees rustle in the breeze, and it gets cool at night which makes sleeping all that much more sweet. It's a small taste of autumn right around the corner. I'm looking forward to writing about it. Just a little.

Wild Raspberry and Blueberry Jam

2011-07-30T11:36:00.001-04:00

Getting read to freeze. Checking for bugs is easier at this point.

What I love most about the summer, along with all the other things I’ve been waxing poetic about lately, is picking fruit. Mostly berries. The other day, I went with my husband and son to pick blueberries, and as we drove home I said that it was perfect—the only thing I wanted to do. Steve commented that although it was fun, he could only handle it once or twice a summer. That I could do it all the time was surprising to him. I find it surprising that people don’t want to pick berries all the time. That someone could pass berry bushes filled with ripe red raspberries is unthinkable to me.

Town hall? A cup of tea?

Everybody has a place that they belong in, and mine is the woods, I think. The other morning I got out early to pick in my secret wild raspberry (also called wineberries) patch. This was one of the hottest days of the year, to date, and I appropriately left at 7 a.m. I headed off with my bait bucket—perfect for berry picking. With my smart hiking shoes, I took off along the path and suddenly drifted into my world. Steve is never happier than when body surfing in the ocean. I easily can see it, as I sit on the sand while he's in the surf, by the light in his eye, that he is deeply happy.

A perfect ladder for a squirrel.

For me it’s winding paths in the mountains. It’s rocks and downed trees, seas of fern, and a muted quiet. Soon, I am lost in the berry picking, except for remembering to whistle or sing (this year it was songs from the new Winnie the pooh soundtrack, fittingly enough, and don't laugh-- it's a great album!) in case a bear is somewhere doing the same thing I am. I am happiest when I’m in that dark, green veiled world. A world where I can imagine frogs talking to mice in waistcoats, or a fox smoking a cheroot while he surveys his domain. There are secret little worlds in there, in the hollowed out tree trunks and lily-pad-strewn ponds, with its dark peaty browns and lacy soft greens and dots of ruby red amidst it.

A lovely place to rest for a weary spider.

When I came back, legs scratched and hands sticky with resin, I felt satisfied with my haul, which is good because it was probably my last of the season. I decided to stop this particular moment in time with some blueberries in a small batch jam. The sweetness of the blueberries stand up to the tart wild raspberries. And the pectin of the blues makes for a nice set, easily gained with the acid of both fruit. This recipe made a full pint that I stuck in the fridge and is almost already gone. You could process two half-pints instead for ten minutes.

1 cup of wild raspberries
1 cup of blueberries (good for you if they're wild too!)
1 cup sugar
1 teaspoon of lemon juice

Put all ingredients in a pot that looks like it's larger than you need. It's not much fruit, but it will still boil up high, like all jams. I let my fruit macerate with the sugar overnight, just because I was too tired to do it then. Either way, when you are ready, bring the mixture to a boil. Let the little bubbles rise and wave frantically. My jam reached a gel stage after about ten minutes of boiling. I didn't use a freezer test or thermometer, just checked it dripping off my spoon and watched for sheeting. I'll admit, it's easier to recognize when you've made jam a ton of times. Remember, a thin jam is never a problem. A stack of pancakes will always come to the rescue.

Turn off the heat and let the bubbles subside. Ladle the jam into a warmed pint jar--I fill mine with very hot tap water and dump it out right before filling, so that it's not such a shock from boil to bottle. Or, as I mentioned you can process this, following normal canning procedure, for ten minutes in two half-pint jars.

I like this jam on toast, while thinking about chipmunks meeting for tea on a toadstool, or some kind of woodland fiction like that.

A spoonful of jam makes every story better.

Apricots

2011-07-23T20:55:00.001-04:00

When you get a huge box of fruit, your mind starts swirling around that particular fruit and it's possibilities, and then, fun things happen. Or at least that's how I feel about it. This is what happened when I picked up a 25-pound box of apricot seconds the other day.

After I tweeted for apricot inspiration, I got a response from my friend, Sarah (SarahBHood on Twitter or Toronto Tasting Notes). Sarah has a delicious and creative new canning book just out, We Sure Can, that features one or two of my recipes, alongside some stellar jamming company too long to list (the link to the book goes to the publisher, Arsenal Pulp Press, and lists all the bloggers involved.)

Sarah gave me a few ideas for my apricots--five to be exact-- but the one that stood out for me was rosemary. I never thought to do an apricot rosemary jam, but doesn't that make the best sense in the world? Sarah mentioned her jamming buddy Alec Stockwell says it's a must. Apricot rosemary jam was the first thing I made, and I tell you, Alec was spot on, but then I didn't stop there. An extra sprig of rosemary was sitting on the counter looking to be useful as I was making an apricot pie. While making the crust in a food processor, I pulled the needles off the rosemary stem and tossed them in. The pie crust was flecked with green and added such a wonderfully subtle flavor to my apricot pie. I'm thinking of doing a peach pie next, with a lavender flowers in the crust.

I also really wanted to make the Best of Both Worlds Jam from Mrs. Wheelbarrow's post on apricots four ways. I mean, does this woman keep giving, or what? Apricots, sour cherries and St. Germain. Wait, what?? But I got carried away with so many ideas, and what I did end up doing was making an apricot blueberry, and an apricot vanilla with noyaux (a jam I made last year and was disappointed by at the start, only to open mid-winter and fall in love with it), in addition to the apricot rosemary.

Instead of a fourth batch, which I was tempted by, I did something new to me and dried a few pounds of apricots. What's really exciting to me about this idea is that I don't have a dehydrator. The best ways to dehydrate food are obvious ones: a dehydrator, the sun, and your oven. I used my cold smoker which is electric. It maintains a temperature of about 120 degrees. I kept it in a sunny spot (I have an outdoor outlet that gets full sun) to increase the heat. (Of course, I didn't put any wood chips in, but I'm seriously considering how wood-smoked fruit must taste like.)

My apricots dried in little over 24 hours. I sprinkled them with lemon juice prior to drying to prevent browning. Now, I know not everyone has a cold smoker just hanging out in their shed, but if you do, you might want to utilize it to dry your excess bounty. In my mind's eye, I already have that thing working overtime this summer!

What are you making with apricots? Here is a look at last year's apricot endeavors:

Apricot Nectar

Apricot Brandy

Apple Apricot Almond Jelly

And an Extension page from Utah University on Apricot Preservation that I consulted for drying apricots.

Fresh Fava Bean Dip with Rosemary

2011-07-18T10:14:00.000-04:00

Or you could call this a fava bean hummus, as my friend Pete did. Some friends I hadn't seen for a while stopped by the other night, and luckily I had a little bit of this on hand to offer up. I had almost eaten the whole thing for dinner it was so good. But I reigned myself in, even though it was creamy and fresh tasting and an irresistible color. Later on, we were all sitting at our outdoor table, the sun was going down in a magenta blur behind the trees, and the baby was asleep. Perfect timing for a few beers and a light snack with some old friends.

We had all lived together back in the New Paltz college years. It was a very communal time, in which an old house up on a hill on Springtown Road was one of the backdrops for lots of time frittering. Ah, those sweet days of wasting your college education! Long hikes in the mountains and late nights in town. People hanging around playing guitars. Maybe some occasional studying, but a good deal of reading. I lived in a shack (that's what we called it) that had no plumbing. I thought it was a good deal, and it would be very poetic and rustic at the same time. I might have had a little "beat generation" thing going on back then. Thankfully, my friends' house was right next door, and they availed me the use of their bourgeoise indoor plumbing.

Now, we all have families, and jobs, and houses to take care of. And now, we're eating things like fava bean dip and drinking Lagunitas beer. But it was a good life then, actually, as it's a good one now. I think someone might have had a can of Rolling Rock, though, just to keep it real.

Fresh Fava Bean Dip with Rosemary

1. Round up one pound of fresh fava beans. Remove the beans from their soft, cozy pod. I always think I want to curl up in there. No wonder favas are so velvety. They sleep well.

2. Drop them in boiling water for 3 to 4 minutes.

3. Drain and when cooled a little, slip their heavy jackets off to reveal the stunningly emerald beans inside.

4. Put all your beans into a food processor and start it up, while pouring olive oil slowly in. Add the juice of a medium lemon. Some salt and pepper. Then add stalk of sticky rosemary, needles pulled off the stem and one or two cloves of garlic.

5. No measurements. Make sure it looks dippy, and thick. Taste it to see if it needs anything. Put it in a bowl, serve with pita chopped into eighths. Enjoy with some old pals.

Bratwurst

2011-07-15T21:42:00.002-04:00

This month's Charcutepalooza challenge, to me at least, was stuffing my sausages. The real one was emulsification -- the focus of which is blending, which results in a smooth-textured sausage. But for me, I was still concerned about how to actually stuff. Not the how-to, but the actual doing. Last month, I was lucky enough to cross paths with Peter and Winnie, and we got to use Peter's KitchenAid. This month, I went out and finally purchased a meat grinder after deliberating whether or not to finally break down and buy a KitchenAid. It was cheaper to buy the grinder, and with two cars on their way out, I can't be too expansive. I bought this, a Waring Pro MG100, which was about $100:

The culprit.

I can't say I recommend it. The short answer: it's going back to the store. Ends up, the worm, for whatever reason, likes to fall out of the motor housing (did I say that right?), and it just plain doesn't work. On the Amazon page there are a bunch of comments discussing this particular flaw, which I neglected to read before purchasing the machine. I was able to grind the meat, and fill two sausages before it stopped working entirely. Thankfully, my neighbor heard about my troubles and brought over her KitchenAid and meat grinding attachment. Aren't neighbors grand? I might not ever buy anything, but just borrow her KitchenAid every few months.

Beautiful brats. Only two, but still beautiful.

It did grind the meat though, and much faster and nicer than the hand grinder, which couldn't really chew up the sinewy pork too well. I ate my breakfast sausage the other day, again for breakfast and also dinner, it was so good. I did notice that although it was very tasty, the texture left something to be desired, and it was due to the hand grinding. And that machine did work lovely for the two large sausages I was able to fill.

I served my dinner of bratwurst with some of the first local-ish corn I saw in the market. It was from New Jersey, and I just couldn't resist. It delivered. The corn was sweet and creamy, the perfect addition to the meal. And the bread was homemade sourdough that I toasted in the pan after cooking the brats. But where was the sauerkraut?

The beginning of lettuce kraut.

Well, a week before I had harvested a huge amount of kale and lettuce from the garden, and I thought: why not kale kraut? Of course, it's not an original thought. I found this post from The Simple Green Frugal Co-Op, which I used as inspiration. And it's such a simple recipe that it would be silly to re-write here. Go and visit! I made a quart of lettuce and a quart of kale. The finished product is a mite salty, but goes well as a condiment. It doesn't have the tartness of cabbage kraut. The kale kraut was lovely alongside the brats. I also made a romaine lettuce kraut, which makes a great sandwich topping. What's wonderful about these ferments, is that they take only a few days. So you will have your sauerkraut just in time for your bratwurst.

Apricot Blueberry Jam

2011-07-14T08:33:00.004-04:00

At some point, maybe it's the end of June, summer just hits you like a ton of bricks. Nothing is happening, and the crickets are chirping, and then it happens: fruit starts piling up in your fridge and then you get invited to everything in the world. I am not complaining here, actually, praise be for summer! With its ten pounds of blueberries, and six more weeks in the season. And its 25 pound boxes of apricots from around the corner. Its long drives past corn fields that start to scent the air with a sweet tea smell of new corn. And its cocktails, laughter, kids plastered with sand and ice pop residue.

Who doesn't want to spend a few hours at a blueberry farm?

It's not without it's normal downsides, the inevitable complexities of living. There's the car that died, and the one that's close behind it. There's the cell phone that died. There's a chicken that's not roosting, making you constantly wonder what could be wrong. And there's a meat grinder you bought that is a piece of junk (more on that later). And if you're a gardener, there are the myriad questions that pop up every day: is that leaf roll? Is that blight? Why are her cucumbers ready and mine are only a centimeter?? Endless inequities pile up, as usual, but something about summertime renders them less painful than during the winter. The blue skies stretched with cottony clouds are a palliative for mostly anything that life can throw my way. (I stress the mostly, as I knock on wood.)

Squashed berries happen.

And then there's jam. My routine lately is to make jam at night after my son had gone to sleep, and it's become a nice quiet meditative exercise that prepares me for bed almost as well as yoga. The other day, the confluence of apricots and blueberries in my house encouraged this jam to be. It's truly tart and sweet at the same time, and turned a gorgeous purple magenta color.

3 pounds of apricots

1 pound of blueberries

2 pounds of sugar

Mix fruit and sugar and let macerate overnight in a glass bowl, or for however long you can stand waiting.

Put the mixture into your jam pot. Add 1 tablespoon of lemon juice. I put in a sack of the apricot pits, for the almond flavor they impart. I don't crack them to release the kernel, like many folks do. I put them in whole because I am lazy. This step is up to you!

Bring everything to a boil and watch for it to foam furiously. Because of the pectin content of the blueberries, this came to the gel stage rather quickly, about fifteen minutes of bubbling ferocity. When it was done, I turned off the heat to let the bubbles subside and added a quarter cup of almond liqueur. You don't have to add anything, and you could use something else that you have on hand. Or pop in some fresh herbs from the garden. I almost put in a dessert wine but went with the almond riff. It's barely detectable, but I do think it smoothed out the tartness. Remove the bag of pits, if you included them.

Ladle into hot jars, seal, and process for ten minutes in a boiling water bath.

Guanciale Jam

2011-07-06T15:06:00.002-04:00

There's been a lot of posts on charcuterie alternated with fruity preserve-y stuff, and so I figured I'd combine the two!

No, not really, but this is a meat "jam." I had some guanciale sitting around and had this idea for a spreadable meat, like 'nduja. Or, probably closer in style to bacon marmalade. Last year bacon marmalade was everywhere--do a search and a bunch of things come up. I sort of used those recipes as a guideline, and I wish I hadn't because the flavoring for guanciale should have been more subtle than for bacon. If I ever do it again, I would use white wine vinegar and fresh herbs, maybe honey.

I diced my small stash of cured jowl and sauteed it until brown and crispy. Poured off the excess fat to use later. Placed the meat to the side. Put one chopped onion in the hot pan that was still lightly greased, and cooked until soft and browned. I added some brown sugar and cider vinegar. I cooked it all down for a while, added water when it got dry. When it looked right to me, which was about twenty minutes, I took it off the heat and let it cool. When cool, into the processor it went to be whizzed down into a smooth-ish paste.

This little jar of gold has been coming in handy with the huge amount of kales and chard I have. A spoonful in a hot cast iron pan is the perfect accompaniment to hearty greens. I also had some Charcutepalooza Canadian bacon on hand, a small chunk, and chopped that into the pan as well. Add a little whey, if you have it, to simmer it all down....

It's also good on biscuits. These were made with lard (that I got from the generous Lisa Mack of Mack Hill Farms) with buttermilk and sourdough starter. It was slightly decadent to say the least! That was a really fine breakfast.

Cherry Pit Liqueur

2011-07-01T14:12:00.002-04:00

I was complaining for a whole week about how there would be no local cherries this year due to weather conditions. But then I stopped in at the Lawrence Farms Orchard in Newburgh expecting nothing more than a fun day with my son, and got rewarded with my favorite cherry: sours. I think sour cherries taste more like cherries than sweet ones do. Does that make sense? Last year, also a bad cherry crop, I made one sacred jar of sour cherry vanilla jam. It was so good that I cried a little inside every time I had a spoonful.

Montmorency hanging on a tree.

I bought about ten pounds of cherries, and they were on sale for $3.99 a pound, which to me is still pretty expensive. But once I started picking, I couldn't stop. There were two kinds, the very sour and bright red Montmorency, which has yellow flesh, and the other one was sweeter and darker, with red flesh, and I can't remember what the owner called it, but it was sweet enough to eat right off the tree. I made Montmorency jam with white balsamic vinegar, and the other cherries became a jam with homemade black cherry brandy. Right now, I'm busy with starting a jam company, that posting jam recipes will probably not happen. But why not take a look at Nomnivorous's beautiful balsamic cherry preserves? And I know there's some sour cherry love over at Food in Jars. Sour cherry anything is SO worthwhile.

Montmorency in a big bucket.

To return to my story: I had four pounds of each kind. That's not a huge amount of cherries, but to be honest, cherries are kind of a pain to pit. Everybody has their favorite choice of pitter. I know OXO has one that is a favorite among jammers, like Hitchhiking to Heaven and Snowflake Kitchen. You might also want to check out Punk Domestics' Cherry Pitter Guide. There was some conversation recently among some canners about this topic, and I brought up how I used to pit them as a child: my mother handed me a bobby pin, stretched open, and you used the closed end to scoop out the pit. Miserable, some people commented. There is also the handy paper clip for scooping your pits. Or the ever handy no pitter style: use your hands and rip them open. I did this for the Montmorency cherries. Really they just slip out. But for the darker sour cherries, I used my trusty ancient pitter/press. It works pretty darn well for an old gal.

The old gal done good.

What to do with all those glistening red pits? I don't know about you, but they look way too pretty to put on the compost heap. I'm a sucker for using the "garbage" end of a project. I just can't throw something out unless I'm sure there's no other use for it. Last year I made Noyaux, with apricot pits. I threw some cherry pits in, as well. Cherry pits are actually often used to make almond extract, so this may be what my liqueur will end up being. With all these pits, I decided to cover them in brandy and wait a few weeks for cherry pit liqueur. That name is almost as appetizing as corn cob jelly, I know, but as they say, it is what it is.

No need for fancy stuff. I did four pounds in a half hour.

Please note that there is some debate on whether cherry pits, and other stone fruit pits, most notably apricot and peach, contain enough cyanide to hurt a person. I have researched it a bit and found that it's negligible enough for me. In some cases, there is support to the opposite, that apricot kernals in particular have cancer fighting potential. In any case, the way to avoid all this is to bake or boil your pits for a short while before you use them to flavor your jam or liqueur. You can go to my post on noyaux liqueur to get a few more details on this.

It's a "pitty" I have to wait so long to drink it!

Red Wine Syrup

2011-06-26T21:46:00.000-04:00

I will freely admit that I am a box wine drinker. There. I said it. It's not just all Almaden, my friends. You know that, right? I'm talking decent boxed wine. It's not stunning, but I just pretend I'm at an art opening. I like to have it around when I want just one glass of wine. I like that it lasts for a while. And it's always there when I need to cook. As they say, you should always cook with wine you would drink. By the end of the winter, though, I had a box left that had been sitting around a tad too long. I couldn't bear the thought of drinking it any longer (the down side of a box that holds five bottles of wine!). So I had a plan. First off I froze some in my teeny tiny ice mold. Aren't they cute?

There's nothing for scale, but they are like the size of a boullion cube.

Then I had a fabulous idea, or so I thought. Red wine syrup. Oh, goody! It was simple, just took lots of boiling down. And let me tell you, this stuff is incredible. Puckery and tannic still, but full and rich and ripe as a grape. I'm seeing this in a salad with some salty charcuterie on the side, drizzled over cheese, or on a steak. Or how about something that's so versatile that it can also sit on top of some buttermilk ice cream? Wow. Or, of course, added to a pan sauce or a dressing or a jam. I'm just getting started here...

Red Wine Syrup

8 cups of decent wine (mine was a medium-bodied Italian blend, not too fruity)

Put the wine in a good stock pot and boil it down in half. Then add:

2 cups of sugar

Return the wine and sugar to a boil. Keep it at a fast and furious boil until it looks syrupy and good to you. For me, this was 222 degrees on a candy thermometer. It was glossy and coated the spoon. See picture below.

Pour your syrup into jars. Yield is three half-pints. I didn't process this, but sealed the jars and put it in a dark, cool place: my basement cupboard. As it's just wine and sugar, I felt okay about this. But if you don't, just put it in the fridge. I'm sure it'll last up to a year in there.

You can drag your finger through it and the trail stays put.

Quick Fruit-Filled Coffee Cake

2011-06-23T07:34:00.000-04:00

Blueberry coffee cake? Who turns that down?

I think I mentioned my stem to blossom-end philosophy last year during Tigress' Can Jam. I love using up everything I can, and that means that when I make juice or jelly or do something that leaves me with fruit pulp I invariably find a way to use it. This cake was born of that compulsion. It's incredibly quick and easy, and not too sweet; a great every day cake. One that you can leave out for a few days--it stays moist and if heated up for just a few minutes and you have a tasty treat.

I used rhubarb pulp from making rhubarb juice for the cake pictured below. It's color is a tad dull, but tasted great. The blueberry was leftover from syrup making. I really couldn't leave that goodness to waste. Spread over a thick batter and covered up with crunchy crumbles, and no one's the wiser. Saved from the compost!

Combine:

1 1/2 c. AP flour
1/2 cup of sugar
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1 teaspoon of baking soda
1/4 teaspoon of salt

Mix in a separate bowl:

1 cup of buttermilk
2 large eggs

Add the dry to the wet until just smooth. Don't over mix. Pour into a greased 10-inch spring form pan, and smooth the top. Spread about two cups (give or take) of fruit pulp over the batter. Cover with streusel topping. Bake at 350 degrees for about 45 minutes.

Streusel topping:

4 tablespoons of butter (oil works too)
1/4 cup of slivered almonds
1/2 cup of whole rolled oats
1/2 cup of sugar

Note: I do not sweeten the fruit, but you may want to depending on your tastes or the tartness of your fruit. The blueberries didn't need any extra sweetener, but for the rhubarb I sprinkled sugar on the layer of fruit before adding the streusel.

I love that this recipe only uses a few ingredients. If you don't have buttermilk, go ahead and use yogurt!

If you want to step it up and get fancy, head on over to these two amazing takes on a recipe for Rhubarb Kuchen:

Cakewalk: Rhubarb Kuchen
Tigress in a Jam: Rhubarb Krack

Dull, but tasty, rhubarb.

Hip Girls Guide To Homemaking - Winning!

2011-06-22T20:37:00.000-04:00

You've got Hip Girl's Guide to Homemaking Mail!

There were almost one hundred comments vying to win Kate Payne's Hip Girl's Guide to Homemaking: Decorating, Dining and the Gratifying Pleasures of Self-Sufficiency--on a Budget! on my giveaway and review post. A lot of folks left a comment even if they had the book, which, to me, says a lot. I was really impressed at how many people wanted to tackle cleaning projects with a greener outlook. Or to just be better at cleaning. That made me so happy! I feel the exact same way. But mostly, what I loved about the comments is that it showed that people are always striving to be better, live better. Isn't that a beautiful thing?

Lately, I am so excited to get better at my life. When I look at my garden I think: in ten years this is going to be amazing! Looking back to the last six years, since moving into my home, I can see how far I've come. I can't help but to be excited about the next ten! Or cooking: in a few years, if I keep up at this clip, I'll be so much better. There's so many things to learn! Sometimes my hummus or jam or pie crust comes out perfectly. Other times, well, there are those other times aren't there? And for that, there's help. And hope! And a little luck. And without further ado, here are those lucky winners!

First Prize goes to Millie's Mama of Millie's Bookshelf. That's a copy of the book, and a jar of preserves from Ms. Kate Payne herself!

Second Prize goes to Gabrielle of Pittipanna. That would be a jar of jam from lil' ol' me. See, it never hurts to be the last one commenting!

Congrats, ladies. Thanks to everyone who left a comment. Keep on getting better! And if you want another chance to win this inspiring book, head on over to Hitchhiking to Heaven, where there's another giveaway going on. Last day is June 26th!

Sweet, Sweet Italian Sausage

2011-06-15T08:40:00.000-04:00

Welcome to the half-year mark of Charcutepalooza! This month's challenge was stuffing sausages. And I'll tell you, that is a beautiful thing. I sort of feel like this might be my worst Charcutepalooza post, as my mind is a million other places right now, but by far it was the most fun. Indeed, I had so much fun, and enjoyed my sausages so much, that I neglected to take any really wonderful photographs, except for that one above. I had the great good fortune to work alongside Winnie from Healthy Green Kitchen, and Peter from Cookblog. Both Winnie and Peter are people I not only admire greatly for their intelligence, expertise, sense of aesthetic and wicked humor, but they are also just really great people. I was really surprised at how comfortable it was to get together with a few folks, stand around a KitchenAid with a grinder attachment and fill hog casings with ground meat.

Can I tell you also about how easy it was to fill the sausages? But really, it's one of those things that you need to do, to feel, to understand. We brought our already ground sausage, chilled and ready to go. Peter, who is the pro in this case, kept the hopper filled, and Winnie and I experienced the filling of the casings. I was a little worried about twisting them off, but ends up you don't have to. Fill your sausages and then twist them after, when they are inert and laying on the counter. Like animal balloons. It's actually a lot of fun.

Here's my sausage story: when I was a kid I would help my father make sausages. It was not uncommon in my house to find a small plastic container of hog casings packed in salt in the door of the fridge. We had a little electric grinder, and watching the meat push through the cutting plate was better than any plastic Play Doh toy. I've been telling my Dad about my adventures in sausages, and this makes him very pleased. (Happy Father's Day, Dad!)

My learning curve: left, a squiggly beginning, right is the stout end.

My sausage was a very basic Italian, pretty much from the book, Charcuterie. I omitted (forgot?) the black pepper, and used a lemon thyme pickle brine instead of the red wine vinegar. Because our plans to meet came together rapidly, I didn't really have time to think about it. I had 2.5 pounds of pork, cubed and ready to go, in the freezer. I had the foresight to purchase five pounds of pork fat back and freeze it in one pound packs. The day we made plans, I grabbed the pork and put it in the fridge, along with the fat. That night, I ground them, still crunchy with frost, with my old hand grinder that I swore I wouldn't use again. It wasn't as bad as the first time (maybe because I had a hungry family to feed the first time, and this was at night, alone). One of the great things I learned about this challenge was that I do indeed want a dedicated sausage grinder. Maybe I even need one. Did you know that you can also use your grinder as a food mill? As long as you are scrupulously clean, applesauce and tomato sauce can also be processed in a meat grinder. I have not done this personally, but do intend to try.

On that night, returning from the sausage stuffing event, it was hot as blazes out and what better meal to have then the sausages I traded with Peter and Winnie. I think I got the better end of the deal. Winnie made merguez, which reminded me of a place I used to eat at in Brooklyn called Oznot's Dish, where I used to get the outrageously good merguez with eggs. Winnie's merguez took me right back. And Peter's Spanish Chorizo, whoah. Perfectly subtle and outrageous at the same time. I had the sausages with a small, barely dressed salad, and it made for such a exquisite meal. Even though it was thrown together. Even though I was sitting at the kitchen table with bare feet, and a toddler across from me was eating plain noodles with his hands.

My Italians.

As with anything you make or grow yourself, these sausages were transcendent. Really and truly they were something I chewed and sort of felt completely in the moment about. Or was I transported? I never know, in those moments, what it exactly is, but you get the idea. Is it better because it's better, or because you did it yourself? Both, I guess. I really wasn't expecting much from my sausages--sweet Italian, whatever, right? And I did love them. But upon further thought and research I wondered about my sausages. They didn't have the fat distinct from the meat, as they should have. Did the meat "break" I wonder? Apparently that would have rendered the sausage unpalatable. But I thought they were delicious, amazing, but maybe a bit too rich. This is also a sign of a not quite fully realized sausage. No matter. This is a mystery I intend to solve. I will continue this delicious research diligently. Thanks again, Charcutepalooza!

Do you know how hard it is to take a picture, when there is a hungry person behind you?

The Hip Girl's Guide To Homemaking - Giveaway!

2011-06-12T19:54:00.004-04:00

It's a very photogenic book.

This book giveaway is now closed! The winner will be posted in a few days!

I don't do a lot of giveaways over here, as you might have noticed. Only when there's something really worthwhile. And The Hip Girl's Guide to Homemaking: Decorating, Dining and the Gratifying Pleasures of Self-Sufficiency--on a Budget! by Kate Payne is totally worthwhile.

I am a bit skeptical when it comes to books that claim to cover a lot of ground. So, when I cracked the lovely spine of this book, it was with a bit of my personal brand of Okay, show me what you got. (It's not my best characteristic, I'll have you know.) This is the kind of book that you can jump in the middle of, get wrapped up, and feel very satisfied. I love "sticky" books like that, meaning books that keep me reading. I wanted to wait to read the whole thing through to review this, but I kept getting sucked into certain chapters. For a light and charming read, it's a very dense book that's full of return. How does Kate Payne do it?

Being a homemaker myself, and in my opinion, a fairly accomplished one (that's where that voice comes from!), I found myself learning tons of things. It was mostly about things that I never pursued because I didn't find them that interesting. Like cleaning, for example. But Kate not only brings things together clearly and easily for you, but she makes it fun to read, and suddenly you think: totally! I am going to go turn the water off on my toilet so I can really give it a thorough cleaning!! (I actually thought this, but haven't done it yet. Step-by-step in the book!) I have, however, already cleaned my drains out with a goodly dose of vinegar and baking soda. A simple idea, one I've read in other places, but these little factoids drift in your head while more enticing things sit front and center. Hip Girl's Guide to Homemaking actually made me want to do them!

I started with the introduction, which is thoughtful and smart and where you'll find that this book was a journey for Payne. You can see that in the research that she has done. She quotes from philosophical treatises on keeping a home, and eating well, to the basic bibles that we all grab for. This is not only a book with elbow grease, but a book with an artful brain. At the end of each chapter, there is a list of resources, both books and websites, that can deepen your quest for homey knowledge. But her knowledge is not just a rearrangement of other informations, it was her quest to find the best way to live, while doing so frugally. This book isn't looking to tell you to go out and buy this and buy that to make your life easier. Anybody can organize a house with a bunch of money. But it takes some ingenuity and creativity to make it work on a tight budget. I think everyone can relate with that.

There is so much in Hip Girl's Guide to Homemaking, that it would be too much to list. But in a nutshell, the book covers the home, room-by-room, and all the things you need to know about to make your life worth living in that home. Like gardening, and basic DIY projects, cleaning, taking care of your linens, basic tool kit needs, cleaning, and of course, my personal faves, cooking, canning and entertaining.

If you were at all wondering if it is indeed "hip," you can rest assured that it is, in the very best way possible. One of the things I like best about The Hip Girl's Guide to Homemaking, is that it is totally green and eco-friendly without getting up on a soapbox. Everything is explained, in a not-condescending manner, that is: clearly, but with the awareness that you, the reader, also have a brain. Isn't that nice?

Okay, so you want this book, okay? If not for you, than someone in your life. I've already given it as a graduation present, which I highly recommend, but as I pointed out, this forty-one-year-old still found it very pertinent. Here's the giveaway deets:

Leave a comment here. Tell me what "impressive acts of domesticity"you want to learn more about! You MUST leave an email address in your comment if you don't have a blog that you are linking to. If you win and there is no way to contact you, I will re-draw. Blogger's comment format stinks, and I apologize for that, so if you have problems, please e-mail your comment to halfpintpreserves[at]gmail[dot]com, and I will accept that as an entry. You have until Sunday, June 19 at midnight EST to enter.

First prize: A copy of Hip Girl's Guide to Homemaking by Kate Payne

*Prize Update* Kate has graciously announced that the first prize winner will also receive a jar of her preserves from her own cupboard, sent personally from her!

Second prize: a sweet little jar of jam from yours truly

Please check out Kate's blog, The Hip Girl's Guide to Homemaking Or visit her Facebook page where you can see what new things she's up to, most recently a beautiful watermelon jelly she made. And if you are on the West coast, check out her tour, with stops in Portland, San Francisco, Santa Cruz and Seattle in the next few days. There's some great events, like cocktails with Kate, hosted by Meg from Grow and Resist!

This could be your mailbox!

Smoked Bluefish and Mackerel

2011-06-07T21:41:00.000-04:00

A few weeks back, I took a little trip to the south shore of Long Island. Aside from seeing family, I had an ulterior motive: to bring back a large quantity of fish to smoke. It had been a while since I smoked some trout, and I wanted more. By that I mean quantity. I had two ideas: mackerel and bluefish. I don't really love either one except for when they are smoked or pickled. Walking into the fish store I like, the first sign I saw was for Long Island bluefish, right off the boat, for $1.99 a pound. Score! It was that cheap, of course, because no one really likes bluefish. The mackerel was from the Atlantic, off the shores of Boston. I bought about ten pounds in all, and had them butterflied, with the skin left on. Back home I had to jump right into production. With oilier fishes, you don't want them to sit very long at all. Ideally, you want to catch them yourself and get them going as soon as you dock. Being quite the landlubber, except for the eating of fish, I am not yet at that stage.

I brined them in different brines. Let them rest and dry, to form that good old pellicle, and smoked them at 190 degrees until they were done, which was about two hours. The bluefish, being bigger and thicker, took a tad longer. After they cooled they were wrapped up and put in the freezer for consumption over the year. Smoking fish does not preserve the fish. It must be refrigerated for up to a week, or frozen for up to six months. It freezes, I have learned, beautifully. Now I will always be prepared for guests, and the occasional bagel, that comes my way.

Bluefish:

5 to 7 pounds of butterflied fish, skin on, heads removed

For the brine:

2 quarts of water
3/4 cup kosher salt
3/4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon of molasses
2 bay leaves
1 teaspoon of fennel
lemon and orange peels (I used a whole lemon and orange)
1 teaspoon of peppercorns
pinch o' red pepper

Dissolve the salt and sugar in the brine. If you use hot water, let it cool, preferably overnight before adding the fish. Brine the fish for three hours. Let it dry on a rack for a few hours until the pellicle forms, the fish is sticky or tacky to the touch. Hot smoke at 190 degrees from 2 to 4 hours.

Mackerel - follow the same directions using this brine:

2 quarts of water
3/4 cup of salt
3/4 cup of sugar
2 bay leaves
4 grapefruit peels
1 teaspoon of pepper
pinch of red pepper

Heavily coat the mackerel with cracked black pepper after the brine, before the drying.

Rhubarb Mostarda

2011-05-29T21:18:00.000-04:00

It's about 8:30 p.m. here in my little corner of the Hudson Valley, and the sky is just starting to get that cornflower blue cast to it, and the leaves are making a soft whisper, being blown by a cool breeze. The warm air is mixing with the cool wind, and it smells like baked mown grass, Russian olive and rose blossoms, chives and maybe a hint of rain. Since it stopped raining last Tuesday, I've been thrown into a summer-time idyll, and the things I want to write about pile up as photographs, but never make it to the page.

I've instead been working in the garden: pulling up rows of arugula and braising greens, radishes and lettuce. All of a sudden there is a deluge of things to eat from my yard. The strawberries are ripe and the rhubarb is flourishing. The asparagus is taking nicely to its new bed, and the potatoes seem to be in a race with themselves, they are growing so fast. The sugar snap peas aren't happy, but the purple podded peas are. The beets and carrots are coming along. The cucumbers sprouted in what seems like days. And the tomatoes. Oh, goodness, the tomatoes! It's really summer when the tomatoes are set in their cages.

This week I spent some time driving around tiny towns, like Accord and Alligerville, picking up ten pounds of rhubarb and dropping off jars of jam to worthy folks. My little boy and I have been making the rounds of all the playgrounds, and all the places to eat ice pops, or sorbets, or something fruity because he doesn't yet have a taste for vanilla or chocolate. At the ice cream stands families loiter, like us, and the older kids seem to be sniffing out summer vacation. We like to visit a park in Gardiner that is next to Sky Dive The Ranch so we can watch for people falling from the sky with colorful parachutes.

Today was another perfect summer day, and we didn't do much. We drove to Tractor Supply to buy chicken feed. We took a quick stroll over the Walkway Over the Hudson. Later on we hung around at the Kingston Point Park and flew a kite. Whenever you take the time to fly a kite, you think: what a good idea it is to fly a kite! The wind was perfect, and our new dragon flew up easily. There was a good mix of people down by the beach, and I closed my eyes to soak it all in. I grew up near the water, and it still is a deliciously comfortable feeling that floods every sense: the smell of sunscreen, the feel of the sand, the sound of the waves and children laughing, screaming or crying. The only thing missing was the salt. I do miss the ocean.

All of these things are just thick with summer. Bug bites and sunburns are just the price you pay; not as onerous as they will soon become. Right now I'm savoring instead the outdoor visits with friends, drinking icy cold beers, and snacking on some crackers, good cheddar and this really delicious rhubarb mostarda. I've been meaning to make mostarda for a long time now. It's an Italian condiment that's similar to a chutney, but not quite as pickled. My version has wild Alaskan lingonberries in it, thanks to Shae at Hitchhiking to Heaven. But think of this recipe as a blueprint. You could use any fruit really. And then insert it into your idyll.

Rhubarb and Lingonberry Mostarda

1 pound of rhubarb, chopped in 1/2" chunks
1 cup of lingonberries (or cranberries, or pears or apples)
1 cup of dry white wine
2 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoon of brown mustard seed
1 tablespoon of yellow mustard seed
1 teaspoon of salt
the juice and zest of two small oranges (I used satsumas, tart and bright, blood oranges would be nice.)
(optional: bay leaf, sprig of fresh rosemary)

Put all ingredients in a pot and simmer until it gets to a spreadable consistency. Some recipes say two hours, but mine was much quicker, probably because of the lingonberries, which are high in pectin. Store in the fridge. Serve with pork or chicken, or with a good cheese.

Buttermilk Muffins with Rhubarb Jam Centers

2011-05-23T21:15:00.000-04:00

I have yet to write about the two wonderful rhubarb jams I recently made, and by the time I do it'll be too late. In the meantime, I am posting this quick recipe for these very tender, not-too-sweet muffins. I used some rhubarb jam from last year for the filling. It was made with Pomona's pectin, so it was firm and thus, perfect for this little filled muffin idea. Filling muffins is certainly not a new idea, but it is staunchly a good one! Try muffins made with buttermilk; they are so soft. If you don't have buttermilk, use yogurt instead. And of course, any firm jam will do.

Doesn't this little muffin look sleepy?

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

2 cups of AP flour
1 teaspoon of baking powder
1 teaspoon of baking soda
1/2 cup of sugar (I used sugar with a vanilla bean scraped into it, otherwise add 1 tsp. of vanilla or use real vanilla seeds scraped from the pod)

Mix these dry ingredients.

Then mix in a separate bowl:

1 cup of buttermilk
1 large egg
1/4 cup of vegetable oil

Have on hand a half-pint of jam.

Add the wet mixture to the dry. Mix quickly, but well. Using a well-greased muffin tin, scoop a tablespoonful of batter into each of the twelve spots. Then, using a teaspoon, gently place a small dollop of jam in each spoonful of batter, making a well with the back of the spoon. Then, using the tablespoon, put a scoop of batter on top of each muffin, trying as best you can to cover the jam up. Bake for about twenty minutes, but keep an eye on them after sixteen or so minutes. They should be golden brown, and if any jam escaped (you hope not, but it happens) it will be bubbling.

Cabbage, Apple, Carrot Sauerkraut

2011-05-20T20:32:00.000-04:00

Sauerkraut is amazingly simple, delicious and incredibly good for you. Once you get comfortable making sauerkraut, you can, to an extent, adjust and play. But there are a few things to keep in mind. It's amazing what can go right with simply cabbage and salt. You get sauerkraut! Staves off scurvy! But even if you've done it a bunch of times, it could go very wrong:

When you see mold that is a.) black and b.) fuzzy or both, like I had, you want to dump the whole lot. Which is always sad, but hey, it's cabbage. And hey, it's your stomach/life. You know? I knew something was up because the batch wasn't bubbling like normal, and it smelled off. You can really trust your nose, you know? 'Cause the nose knows.

This was the second time I had this problem, and I was horrified because I thought there was something in my basement that was causing it. However, it only happened when I used this particular crock that I got from my family this last summer. When I went to clean it out, I realized the problem was my fault. I turned over the crock, and on the very bottom was a nice patch of black mold. Lovely! I had been lazy and didn't clean scrupulously. Case closed, and yet another reminder to not get lazy.

Still wary of the new (old) crock, I decided to go back to my good old crock pot.

Isn't she a beaut? I got her in some garage sale years ago for a pittance. In the winter, we make hot spiced cider and mulled wine in it. In the summer, it doubles as a fermenting crock. I also decided to keep the crock in the kitchen, because the colder it is the slower the ferment. This batch came out beautifully. Phew! For all of my sauerkraut info, I check in with The Joy of Pickling by Linda Ziedrich, which you really should own if you love pickles. There is just an incredible amount of wonderful recipes and tons of information, clearly outlined. Below you'll find my recipe, but not directions. For that and a wealth of information on how to make sauerkraut, check out Sandor Katz' excellent site, Wild Fermentation, where you will get in depth info on sauerkraut and a whole lot more of the wonderful world of fermented foods.

What to do with all that kraut, one wonders, when you've made a ton? I don't like to can it, and instead keep it in the fridge. Making smaller batches is nice, so you can vary your sauerkraut, adding different spices or vegetables. Did you know that you can freeze sauerkraut? I've never done it, but it's possible and some say it will keep the beneficials as opposed to canning, which can kill off all that lively stuff that's good for you.

This is how I like to eat my kraut:

Sauerkraut sandwich: especially on a soft onion roll, with a smear of strained yogurt made with raw milk. But I would be equally happy with a dollop of mayo. Think hot dog without the meat. Or, also delicious, on a falafel sandwich.

Sauerkraut on top of a hot bowl of jasmine rice. Lunch today. Sprinkled with some sesame seeds.

Sauerkraut side, next to some braised short ribs in red wine. That was dinner tonight. It's a perfect foil to a rich, fatty dish.

My father can't abide by a roast turkey without sauerkraut on the side.

How do you like to eat your sauerkraut?

My most recent sauerkraut:

1 pound of finely sliced cabbage
1 pound of peeled, grated carrot
1/2 pound of peeled Ida Red apples
3 tablespoons of kosher salt (Ziedrich uses pickling, Katz recommends sea salt, I like kosher)
a few juniper berries
a teaspoon of coriander

Slightly sweet and fresh tasting. For directions on how to make sauerkraut, see Wild Fermentation.

Breakfast and Dinner Sausage

2011-05-15T20:16:00.000-04:00

Beer: necessity for making sausage?

Is it really already the fifth month of Charcutepalooza?? This fine month we worked on our grinding. Again, I give thanks for Charcutepalooza, because my two old hand-cranked grinders were gathering dust in the basement, waiting for me to use them. I promised them I would, but they keep on getting shuttled into a darker, farther corner of a cabinet or box. After the challenge was issued, I dutifully went downstairs and cleaned them off. Would they work? Did I have all the pieces? Was I crazy for collecting these things? Well, yes and no.

The bad grinder.

I started off with a beer, standard for sausage making, no? And the younger of the two grinders. I'm not sure what I might be missing, or if this thing is just a stinker, but boy was this grinder the worst. A pencil sharpener would have worked better. I promptly dispatched it to the sink and feeling downhearted, drank my beer. My husband cheered me (knowing if he didn't, dinner might just be peanut butter and jelly and not sausages), and I rallied with the next, older, ancient-looking grinder, also a Universal. The meat waited in the freezer while I gathered courage to try again.

The good grinder. More beer.

This one worked. Quite well, in fact, in comparison to the hell that was the other one. I am SO glad I didn't do five pounds, though. And once I was done, it smelled incredibly good. I think I saw my husband wipe the sweat from his brow. He knows it's bad news if something pisses me off in the kitchen. And he didn't want PB&J's for dinner.

They are cool looking, though, aren't they?

Breakfast (or Dinner?) Sausage Recipe:

2.5 pounds of pork butt shoulder
1.5 tablespoons of kosher salt
2 tablespoons of chopped fresh parsley
1 teaspoon of fresh lemon thyme
1 tablespoon of chopped garlic
a pinch of red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon of Meyer lemon zest
ground pepper to taste

I followed the breakfast sausage directionsin Charcuterie for making this.

Glorious pork.

The Meyer lemon zest was an after thought. When I opened the freezer to pull the meat out, there was my little container of zest in there. Perfect, I thought! It really added a fresh tanginess to the sausage, that went along perfectly with the fresh lemon thyme from my garden.

Who doesn't love a log of sausage?

I stuck this little log in the fridge alongside it's friend, the Canadian bacon. Now I have two more awesome breakfasts to look forward to. I know it's not exciting, but we had the sausage patties for dinner, with some fresh eggs and local asparagus. It was so delicious, I think I may rename my sausage dinner sausage. I really wanted to make the merguez, but I got caught up in some life stuff and so had to stick with the single challenge this month. Those grinders slowed me down a little, too. My next purchase is an electric grinder, because I need to make a LOT more sausage. Good thing it was my birthday the other day, so I can squeeze one last present out of it.

Dinner!

Home, Home with the Range

2011-05-11T20:20:00.000-04:00

Crabapple blossoms. Life is good, right?

I just wanted an excuse to put this pretty picture on my blog. Aren't crabapple trees beautiful? You would never know that I took this picture in front of the Goodwill store by all the malls and big box stores in my area. Is it obvious to say that there is beauty everywhere?

This post, though, is about my new gas range. I must admit I was a bit flummoxed by the terminology while getting the first, new range I've ever had in my life. I've never called it a "range." I've called it a stove, or an oven. But not a range. Another thing I have learned in my somewhat surface research was that there are ranges out there that have a setting for "chicken tenders." Lord, help us.

The Ol' Tappan.

My old range was a good sort. I got used to it's small oven and finicky igniters and oven temperatures, but when the thermostat really blew, we had to call it quits. I had always wanted a big, super deluxe commercial oven, but I couldn't lay out the cash to buy one that was worth it. When I thought about it, though, it was okay, because it wouldn't go with my awesome late 80's kitchen. It's amazing that the one room I spend most of my waking hours in is really sort of bummy. It's very dark, and the overhead light fixture is horrible and florescent. The lay out is counterintuitive; the last time it was redesigned they moved everything to a spot that was not originally intended. Let's not even talk about the cabinets. And, there's no window over the sink. That just makes me sad. But I've learned to live with it.

New blood: the Kenmore 72333

With the help of a bunch of the good people who gather to chat on my Facebook page (join in!) and my pal, Shae from Hitchhiking to Heaven, who also recently bought a new range, I gathered a bunch of information, and decided on this one. I think I fretted over the new range more than a car. The people at Sears got used to me dropping by and trying to look at ranges while clutching my son, who was way more interested in running amok. In the end, I got the most basic thing I could find that was reasonably priced with these amenities: all stainless steel (because black is a pain to keep clean--though the same has been said about stainless steel), a turbo boil (the instruction manual has a "home canning" section!), and a convection capable oven (I really got sick of burning cookies).

I must admit, I am scared of all the digital stuff, but hopefully--fingers crossed--we'll get along, this new range and I. All I need now is my new Le Creuset French oven, which should be en route as I write, and I'll be all set for the new jamming season!

Another gratuitous flower shot. Who can resist? It's spring, dammit!

Sheep Sorrel and Seedling Pesto

2011-05-09T08:27:00.000-04:00

Not the prettiest pesto you've ever met, but a tasty one.

It's exciting times in the garden. Yesterday, I spent a while in the garden doing a task I never enjoyed: thinning the seedlings. That is, until I started eating my seedlings. I wait until they're a decent size, and cull them. Once they are washed, roots and all, I can do various things with them, like putting them on a sandwich, like sprouts (which they are), or make soup (along the lines of this garlic mustard greens soup), or make a pesto-like sauce.

To call this pesto is a stretch, as there is no cheese or nuts, or any of the traditional pesto ingredients. I gathered all of my seedlings, a mix of mustard greens, arugula and radishes and added a good amount of wild sheep sorrel, a tangy lemony green that grows wild in my garden. Sheep sorrel is very tasty, and makes a great soup. It's also an indication that your soil is acidic, although every time I test my soil it's very alkaline. Go figure. Sheep sorrel is high in oxalic acid, hence it's tanginess, and the radishes are a little tough, so I blanched them quickly in boiling water. This turned the sorrel a horrible color, so the finished product is not that jewel-toned green hue that I love so much.

After blanching, the greens went into the food processor and got pureed with some olive oil, and a few cloves of garlic. I'll eat this as a condiment on sandwiches, tossed with pasta or steamed veggies. It's garlic-y and peppery, with a lemony tang.

Wild sorrel.

Potato Planting

2011-05-04T14:39:00.000-04:00

Red Pontiacs and Yukon Golds.

The other day, I was outside very early planting some potatoes. It's a little late, date-wise, but weather-wise is another thing. It's almost mid-May, but the weather seems decidedly April-ish. Lots of rain, and cooler temperatures. But every plant I see is forging ahead, despite the weather. Most of the garden is planted, aside from the warm weather plants, like tomatoes, cucumbers, and squashes.

I'm new to the potato game. I always thought why bother with potatoes? They are cheap, and I can get good local ones quite easily. But yes, once you grow your own, as with probably anything, you're likely to notice the difference. Last year a friend gave me a bunch of seed potatoes, and I carelessly threw them in a lousy spot and they flourished. This year I've done the same, thrown them in a lousy spot. Maybe with a touch more care. Potatoes were often the plant that farmers used to loosen up a new plot. It seems to work for me, so I'm doing it again.

The new potato bed.

My garden is right by the road, but not for any other reason than it was the best place that was closest to the water source. We have three acres, so it seems like I'm trying to make a statement about it. But I'm not, even though it's a statement I can totally get behind. The site gets great sun, it faces south on a slope, and the drainage is perfect. When we moved in, I decided to make the garden very small, with the ability to make it bigger. Next year I'll make it twice the size by fencing it in. This year I'm starting the beds that will be part of the bigger garden, like the row above.

(You may wonder how I can plant things without fencing with the unbelievable deer population we have in the Hudson Valley. I also have quite a few unfenced raised beds. Amazingly, the deer have left me alone (knock on wood). I ascribe it to being so close to the road, which is a steep and dangerous curve that they never seem to want to cross. A plus of the roadside garden. Another plus? I now know more of my neighbors than I would have!)

Not for the faint of heart.

I'm a little crazy, I think. I mentioned in my asparagus bed post that my soil is very rocky. See above. I think most folks would have bagged it after pulling that many rocks out of the soil. But once I start something, I can't really stop. I understand why some people don't garden. It's back-breaking work. But I tell you, I was out there on a Sunday morning as people were driving to church, and I thought: this is my church. Honestly, that's how I feel about it.

It will be all worthwhile in a few months.

I felt very satisfied when it was done. And I slept really well that night. And hopefully, if it all works out, I'll have twenty or more pounds of potatoes to feed my family when it's harvested. I think probably the thing that hooked me with potatoes was digging them out of the ground. It was like finding buried treasure!

The nuts and bolts of planting the potatoes:

I bought Red Pontiac and Yukon Gold seed potatoes from my local garden/feed store. The seed potatoes sat in a basket inside by a warm window, so the eyes began to sprout. I then cut them, leaving an eye on each piece, and let them scar over--don't put them in the ground after cutting them. [Tip for next year: don't cut seed potatoes, instead buy small seed potatoes.] I dug a trench about a foot wide, and about six to eight inches deep. I covered them with about two inches of dirt--no compost--and as they grow I will hill them up. Potato flowers are beautiful, and a signifier of new potatoes to be harvested. In July, the potato plants will start to die, and underneath the soil you will find your gold. There's tons of information on planting potatoes on the internet. This is just a very basic overview, and also sort of a garden journal for me to see what I did this year. Let me know about your potatoes!

Chocolate Milk Pudding

2011-04-27T21:14:00.001-04:00

With a toddler needing my attention just about every minute, there is precious little time to invest in fancy stuff. To be honest, I'm not so fancy to begin with. As I've stressed in this blog, if it's not easy I just won't bother. And this, my friends, is one of the easiest puddings I've ever made.

We were in the health food store the other day, and my son, who enjoys tearing off without me and then grabbing expensive items he wants me to buy, had something in his sticky hands. He happened to pick up some Ronnybrook chocolate milk, which at $1.25 was just fine with me. Thing is, once I opened it on the bench outside, with a bendy straw and everything, he decided he didn't want it. I wasn't totally surprised, this guy doesn't really like chocolate. But it is mind boggling. I think it surprises him, too. He always asks for it, then realizes he doesn't really care for it.

Once home, I thought, "should I just guzzle this thing down? Save it for Steve?" Nahhh. With a bit of leftover cream in the house I thought chocolate milk pudding would be the answer. I adapted this recipe from the Joy of Cooking. It is soft and creamy, not very rich or chocolate-y, which shouldn't deter you from this simple, home-cooked pudding.

Once, at a garage sale, I bought some pudding ramekins and the woman selling them to me sighed that no one made pudding any more. I do! It's such comforting fare, and if you serve them in little four ounce canning jars, you can stash them in your snack bag with a little spoon and have it at work, a picnic or at the playground.

Yield: 4 four-ounce jars and one little bowl for tasting right away!

1 cup Ronnybrook chocolate milk (or any good, local whole chocolate milk)
3/4 cup of heavy cream
1/4 cup of sugar
pinch o'salt

Heat over medium-low heat until it reaches just below a simmer. Meanwhile, mix up these ingredients until smooth:

3 tablespoons of cornstarch
1/4 cup of milk

Add this mixture slowly into the heated chocolate and cream, stirring constantly until it almost simmers again. Turn down the temperature and stir well, you will see it start to thicken and get to that pudding consistency. Turn off the heat and add a good teaspoon of vanilla. Mix well, and pour into your jars. Let them cool down and then put them in the fridge with lids on them. If you don't like a skin to form on your pudding, put plastic wrap on the surface.

I haven't tried this yet, but I'll bet these would make darn good pudding pops. You know, frozen pudding? Hmm...

Still life with rain, tulip and chocolate pudding.

Garlic Mustard Soup

2011-04-25T21:00:00.000-04:00

It feels so nice to have something so bright green to eat! Especially when it's from my yard. Nothing in my garden is ready yet, but that doesn't mean that green isn't filling up everywhere. I love it when the skeletal trees begin to fill up with a haze of green (in this instance, Robert Frost said it best), and all the houses and cars slowly begin to disappear from sight, until one day you can't imagine that anything is near you at all, bowered by a soft curtain of green leaves.

I decided to pull a large lush green bed of the invasive plant, garlic mustard, and make some soup with it on this rainy day. Eating an invasive is such a good idea! Try to pull the root out when you're foraging for it. Not only are you taking one for the team, but you're helping the poor ramp, because, not surprisingly, they are on the wane from being over harvested.

I love it when the outdoor cutting board starts to look like this again!

This soup is very easy, but be warned: it is quite bitter. Not horribly bitter, but still. Do you like chicory and broccoli rabe? Then you'll like this. But if you don't like bitter greens, then you might want to cut the garlic mustard with some other greens that are more mild. It was a perfect after a long weekend of indulgent holiday eating. My family was in town for Easter, and we ate and drank a goodly amount: there was Italian antipasto, German charcuterie, lots of wine and an amazing roasted lamb. A spring time tonic was just what my weary system needed to get back on track.

In your soup pot, saute a crushed garlic clove in some olive oil. Add two large handfuls of garlic mustard greens that have been cleaned and put through the salad spinner. (I'd guess the greens loosely filled a quart measuring cup.) They will wilt down quickly and considerably. Add two large potatoes, peeled and diced. Toss to mix everything. Add two cups of water, and return to simmer. Then add two more cups of water. Bring to a boil, turn down the heat so it simmers, covered, for about a half hour. When the potatoes are sufficiently soft, puree with an immersion blender. Season with a good amout of salt, a dribble or two of cream if you like, and if it's on hand, a dose of preserved lemon syrup. Serve with a good hearty bread.

The Asparagus Bed

2011-04-22T08:25:00.001-04:00

Why do I feel so good?

I don't believe I've ever come out of the garden feeling worse. In fact, I think I can safely say that 99% of the time, I walk out of the garden feeling much, much better. It's true that my back might ache, the bugs can be vexing, and the work can be totally exhausting. What I mean is this: if I'm feeling anxious or ungrounded, spending even just an hour in the garden can fix that pretty much immediately. (Check out this great article about Why Gardening Makes You Happy and Cures Depression.) And after a long, cold winter, being in the dirt is exactly what I need. I never realize it when it has me in it's clutches, but I get into a stone cold funk starting about February. This year it was longer and deeper because our winter was longer and colder. But now, although it's still chilly and tempestuous, warm one hour, cold the next (no one really described April better than T.S. Eliot), it's still spring, and I'm out there in the dirt. Feeling much better, thank you.

Two trenches with dirt in the middle to gradually add back as the plants grow.

Yesterday, I spent a good while starting asparagus beds. I made trenches five inches deep (digging deeper reduces yields, or so I've read) and topped with two inches of soil and compost, to be hilled up as the asparagus grow. I'm not a huge fan of asparagus, otherwise I would have planted them five years ago when we moved in. I am, however, a huge fan of my husband, who loves asparagus. So, I finally broke down and planted 16 Purple Passion asparagus plants. Not that digging is awful, but because digging on my particular soil is awful. I have the rockiest soil imaginable. I do believe unearthed a small quarry from my garden beds. Halfway through digging the deep trenches I started chanting: I will never have to do this again, I will never have to do this again. Because I won't. The asparagus will be fruitful for upwards of 25 years. And if they die? I'm not doing it again!

The perennial garden.

Now I have a huge perennial bed: a row of vigorous rhubarb, a strawberry patch, and now, asparagus. Did you notice that this bed isn't fenced in? It helps that it's right next to the road, by a dangerous curve, so the deer stay away. But deer don't eat rhubarb or asparagus (generally, although they've been known to surprise me!), and so far the strawberries have been unmolested. There's nothing nicer than having a garden that produces for years and years, after only planting once!

Pickled Horseradish

2011-04-17T20:42:00.000-04:00

You could also call this prepared horseradish. Either way, it's the way to bag the store boughten stuff. And really, this is ridiculously easy. Get one of those scary looking horseradish roots that can be fodder for many a joke. I used to work the dreaded brunch shift and one of the opening tasks was to make the bloody mary mix. Needless to say, hung over waiters are not one to hold back on a ribald joke involving horseradish. So. Are you familiar with fresh horseradish? You should be! It's so good.

I found this simple preparation in the Joy of Cooking. You clean your root, then peel it, then grate it. I grated it with a Microplane which didn't take too long, but I guess you could do it in the food processor. It might be a bit too coarse, though. Beware! Horseradish is fierce. I had to walk away a few times because I got a good strong whiff, and it just about burned my nasal passage up to my brain.

Grate it into a glass bowl filled with a cup of white vinegar and a 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt. Pack it into a clean jar and keep in the fridge. I'm hoping for at least a few months for this big jar. Might have to whip up a Bloody Mary brunch party soon...

Smoked Trout and Canadian Bacon

2011-04-15T08:21:00.000-04:00

This is the fourth month of Charcutepalooza, and I'm still in the game. You know what I have to say about Charcutepalooza? I have now made all of these things that I always had plans for but hadn't yet gotten around to it. There is so much that I jump right into, but for some reason my plans for charcuterie had been more daunting than most of my endeavors. And let's hear it for Charcuterie, the guiding tome. You know what? I finally got my copy in the mail! Finally!

As a new comer to smoking, it took me a while before I compartmentalized smoking foods into those two simple categories: cold smoking and hot smoking. Cold smoking foods does not cook them, but imparts the smokey flavor, and as such it is important to use a curing salt because cold smoking invites bad bacteria as the temperatures are less than 100 degrees F. Hot smoking, however, utilizes higher temperatures (above 150 degrees F.) and thus cooks the food, while imparting the smoke flavor, and in my mind, it is not quite so important to use curing salt. (The book recommends using curing salt, or pink salt, in all cases unless you are hot smoking at 300 degrees F.)

Cold smoker.

Last summer, my father in law brought me a smoker. This was a Little Chief, with an electric element, and I later found out, a cold smoker. You know how I found out? I smoked some trout in it, and it took six hours, and it was still not done so I had to bake it off in the oven. I will definitely return to this smoker to make cold smoked salmon.

Hot smoker.

The trout that I cold smoked wasn't very smoky. I didn't brine it. I did it all wrong, but at least I cooked it fully. (This may be why jumping into meat curing isn't the brightest idea. You've got to have some bit of knowledge, and that's why Charcuterie, the book, is so great.) Undaunted, I pestered a friend to loan me his smoker that was stuffed in a storage space. He graciously delivered it to my house, seemingly shamed by it's neglect. (He will be repaid in Canadian bacon, I assure you.)

You wouldn't mind being paid in bacon, would you?

So, the second time around I got four whole trout, brined them a few hours and let them sit over night. It was a chilly night, about 33 degrees, and I locked the porch doors hoping rodents wouldn't get in. I then hot smoked it for almost two hours at 180 degrees with alder wood. I used this Alton Brown recipe for the trout. There is one in Charcuterie (look under the recipe for trout rillettes--yum), but I didn't want to use pink salt, and didn't feel it was necessary for safety (because it was being hot smoked, and fully cooked at safe temperatures) or taste (this was a guess, but I was right). A little bit of knowledge and suddenly I'm a know it all, huh?

Can I talk about the pellicle for a second? Do you know how much I enjoy that word? I especially love how essential it is to smoking anything. The pellicle is formed when the once brined or cured meat is patted dry and allowed to completely dry, and get a little sticky, before smoking. I think the word sounds like oracle. And when my trout had sat over night in a nice chilled evening with a light breeze it formed a wonderful pellicle and I knew, as if it were an oracle of future goodness, that my trout would rule. Or maybe I was just smoking something. Regardless, I like that word. But dang, that trout did rule.

Oh, goodness.

Because I wasn't satisfied with just smoking fish, I opted to make Canadian bacon, too. I was able to order a local pork loin via my supermarket, which was convenient. Because I still had a big bag of that Morton's Tender Quick, I figured why not use it? So I followed a recipe on their site. It was very simple and not quite a brine, a rub that made it's own brine as it sat, much like making bacon. I let it cure for three days and then smoked it with hickory wood for almost three hours at 225 degrees, when the internal temperature reached 150 degrees. When I pulled it out, I felt immensely proud of myself! And, whoa nelly, it was freaking good! Four pounds of Canadian bacon is a boat load of the stuff, and let's be honest, I probably won't make this again any time soon. Although, wouldn't it make a super cool Christmas present along with some good maple syrup? With the rest of the bacon, I sliced it and put it in the freezer to pull out on special occasions.

Pickled green beans and pickled green tomatoes.

I had some friends over for dinner last night, and I decided to make a few small plates with my smoked goods. It was all very simple and very tasty. Here's what happened.

Smoked Trout Dip

1/4 cup of cream cheese
1/4 cup plain yogurt
one to two whole smoked trout, depending on your tastes, skin removed
a tablespoon of capers

Let the cream cheese sit out and soften. Then add the yogurt and whip them together (I used a fork, then an immersion blender) until smooth. Add the flaked trout and capers and fold them in. Serve with crackers.

Canadian Bacon and Leek Frittata

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Heat a large cast iron pan with a small bit of olive oil to coat it. Saute a half of a cleaned large leek, sliced thinly, until wilted and golden. Remove leeks to a plate.

Can we squeeze a veggie in here?

Add a spot more oil, leaving pan on medium heat. Layer slices of Canadian bacon to cover the bottom of the pan. Add 6 eggs, beaten with a splash of milk or cream, and about 4 ounces of grated cheese (I used a nice sharp cheddar) and cook until the sides seem set but the center is still very wobbly. Put the pan in the oven for about ten or fifteen minutes, until the center seems set. Remove and let cool a bit.

Before.

Using a knife, cut around the edges and using a spatula check to see if the bottom is sticking. If all looks good, put a plate on the pan and invert, so that you have an upside-down canadian bacon pie when you're done. Serve slightly cooled with a bit of chives, in thin pie wedges. No forks needed.

After. Slightly 1950's Better Home and Gardens?

French Lentils with Onions and Preserved Lemon

2011-04-07T20:41:00.000-04:00

I love little French lentils, don't you?

Right now the weather is finally turning towards spring, but there's still a bit of nip in the air. It's been a real cold spring. After a day of transplanting, making the garden bigger, digging dirt and planting seeds, your wind-reddened cheeks want to sit down to a meal like this. Very hearty, satisfying and filling.

A loaf.

And throw in a loaf of bread, while you're at it, would you? I used this recipe, and while it's not the most delicious loaf you've ever had, it does produce two huge loaves in short order. And that's saying something when you've spaced out on making bread and need some on the double. There's only one rising on this one. It makes a good piece of toast, too.

Save celery leaves and freeze them for times like this.

1 cup of French lentils

2 cups of water

Boil the lentils in the water for about twenty minutes, until the lentils are tender.

Meanwhile, saute two medium onions (I like to slice them into thin wedges) in some olive oil until soft, and browned. Add the cooked and drained lentils (save the cooking liquid). Dice a half of a preserved lemon, without the flesh (I like to reserve the lemon flesh for salad dressings--somewhat milder and just as lemony). Mix well over medium to low heat. Add about a quarter of a cup of the reserved liquid and simmer on low. To finish, I sprinkled a good pinch of salt, and a handful of chopped celery leaves (parsley is fine, too).

Duck fat - the answer to your prayers.

I served the lentils with potatoes roasted in duck fat: I like small yellow potatoes, sliced in thick rounds. I put a large baking tray in the oven at 400 degrees. When the tray gets a little warm, I drop a tablespoonful of duck fat and return the pan to the oven to melt. Then I put the potato slices out in a single layer.

The lighting is off, but I wanted you to see the potatoes. I like them soft, not crispy.

Suet Pastry Dough

2011-04-04T14:13:00.000-04:00

Oh, my god. Did I just make Hot Pockets? That's crazy. I don't think I've ever even had one. I just remember that comedian saying "Hot Pockets" in a high voice and it made me laugh. Well, Hot Pockets weren't the original idea. They were born of pasties (not the ones for nipples, people!). Little pockets of pastry filled with savory goodies, like meat and cheese. I think most cultures have them. In this instance it was ham and monterey jack cheese. And the pastry dough? Made from grass-fed local suet, baby. Yes, it's not just for tallow anymore, folks! Actually, it never was, but that's besides the point.

I'm super excited about this because I haven't had or made such an incredibly tasty pastry dough in a long time. Or maybe since I made pop tarts...Anyway, when I went in on a split of a steer I was offered some suet and not one to turn down anything free and vaguely edible, I accepted. It took me a while to get to it, but it all came together the other day.

I based my recipe on the Beyond Nose to Tail cookbook and this recipe from Epicurious. The dough was very dry and crumbly, maybe because I used the suet straight from the freezer. To prepare the suet, which by the way, is the thick, hard fat that surrounds the kidneys of a cow, I picked through it and removed what little bits of meat I could find. Then I put it in the food processor and pulsed it to a consistency like coarse cornmeal.

Suet Pastry Dough

1 1/2 cups of flour

1 tablespoon of baking powder

1 teaspoon of salt

1 cup of cold, finely chopped beef suet (I used a little extra)

1/4 to 1/2 cup of cold water

Combine all the ingredients, holding the water. Then, add the water 1/4 cup at a time, slowly, until you get the desired pastry dough consistency. After the dough is formed, let it sit, covered in wax paper, in the fridge for up to two hours. Let it come to room temperature before rolling.

My dough was very tough to work. It isn't, in my limited experience with suet pastry dough, very elastic dough. I used a large circular lid I had to press out circles. I didn't roll them very thin. I filled them with chopped ham and grated cheese---about 2 cups of ham mixed with a cup of cheese. I didn't add anything else! Bake these in a 375 degree oven for about thirty minutes, until light golden brown. They were stellar right out of the oven. This recipe made eight large pastries that will probably disappear by the next morning.

April Fools' Fool

2011-04-01T20:59:00.001-04:00

I swear I didn't do this on purpose. Last night I took some blueberries out of the freezer. I then curled up on the couch reading Deborah Madison's Seasonal Fruit Desserts and Beyond Nose to Tail by Fergus Henderson and Justin Piers Gellatly (both great books). I was inspired by a few recipes to make a fool, which is basically lightly cooked fruit folded with whipped cream. The simplest thing ever. And one of the most delicious.

Now a bit of snow was predicted for today, so this morning I was figuring on how to make the whipped cream without heavy cream. Ha! I didn't feel like going out. The cockamamie idea I had for whipped cream was based on my buttermilk smoothie, and how thick it was. (I've been obsessed with buttermilk, lately, of all things.) I put a cup of buttermilk plus a half cup of low fat yogurt in the blender with some confectioners sugar and lemon syrup. Once that was well whipped I let it strain, separating the whey from the solids. (By the whey, (ugh, sorry!) there's a great post on the many uses of whey right here.) The result was a soft, very light and almost foamy cream. You know, I'm just telling you this because I found it interesting. It was really good, but I'm not sure if I'd do it again. It was an interesting experiment. Sane people can always use plain yogurt or even better Greek yogurt. Or how about plain old whipped cream?

So, half way through the day I realized it was April 1st. And I was making a fool. And it was snowing, for crying out loud! All very silly indeed.

In the Garden: Transplanting an Elderberry Bush

2011-03-31T12:43:00.000-04:00

Going for a ride in the wagon!

Right now we are waiting on yet another snow storm that should last tonight and tomorrow, which is pretty depressing, so I'm going to stick my fingers in my ears and sing a little until it's over. While I do that, I'm going to think about last week when I planted some Red Giant mustard greens, radishes, and two kinds of peas. It felt so good to be back in the dirt.

While I had the chance, I also transplanted my elderberry bushes. I had gotten them as a present from my mother a few years ago, and promptly planted them in the worst possible spot in my yard. That would be a hot, dry spot. The bad part is the dry part. Elderberries want to have their feet in the water and their faces in the sun. I happen to have a pond and a stream on my land, so I moved them down there. Right next to the wild elderberries I found last summer, growing on the edge of the pond. I hope to have a big family of them down there one day. They reproduce quickly, if given the right conditions. And they don't need much upkeep, if any at all.

You can use elderberries to make many a wonderful jelly or wine, but I mostly like the syrup. I might be dreaming, but during this epic winter, we didn't get sick once. And I think it was the elderberry syrup.

Can you see them in all this dreary brown??

Buttermilk and Avocado Smoothie

2011-03-27T21:03:00.001-04:00

Do you have a horror story about getting your wisdom teeth removed? I just got my two top widsom teeth extracted, as they say, and I was really not looking forward to it, obviously. I'm one of those people who for some strange reason won't listen to sound advice about getting their teeth removed. As a teenager and twenty-something I was told time and time again to get my wisdom teeth removed. Ever the conspiracy theorist, I would refuse, thinking the dentist was requesting my first-born. "You will never get my wisdom teeth," I hissed. Well, years later, now that my forty-year-old teeth are nice and fused to my jaw, I actually had to get them out because they were hurting. So, I'll spare you the details of mine, it went rather quickly, and my recovery has been quick. If you want to share your pain, please go ahead in the comments, by all means!

I got my teeth removed on Thursday. I had to fast ALL day, which is tantamount to torture for me. Particularly because I spend my days with a 2 1/2 year old who grazes on snacks around the clock. Then I was in a Vicodin funk because as much as I like to be anesthetized, that stuff makes my stomach turn so much that it's not worth it. Of course, one of the things you turn to during these times are smoothies. (No straws! Watch out for seeds and rice! Dry socket lurks!) I'd been meaning to branch out to buttermilk smoothies for a while now, and here was my chance.

Buttermilk is something I now have on hand all the time, as it's about the easiest cultured milk product you can make, even easier than crème fraîche. And maybe a little better for you and just as helpful. I bake with buttermilk all the time. I'm so glad that Annette at Sustainable Eats turned me on to it. Another fan of buttermilk is Kate from Hip Girls Guide to Homemaking (who, I just noticed, is having a Baking Illustrated book giveaway right now, btw!). She knows that baking with buttermilk is a wondrous thing. Like buttermilk cake, for example!

There was a nice, ripe avocado on hand, and I thought: avocado smoothie! The syrup I used was from making candied citrus, so it was a mix of oranges and lemons. What was so surprising to me was how whipped buttermilk became after a minute in the blender. It was so lush and creamy, it was almost like pudding, but still drinkable. I'm pondering the pudding idea--maybe I'll add a banana to thicken it. But I do know I'll have another buttermilk smoothie! I had never thought of drinking buttermilk, even though many folks do it. Now I'm a believer.

1/2 avocado
1 cup cultured buttermilk
2-3 tablespoons of lemon syrup (a nice substitute would be agave nectar or honey)

Put it in a blender and whoosh. It's time for dinner!

Smoothie plus garden catalog = winter heaven.

Triple Sec

2011-03-20T20:42:00.001-04:00

The world of orange-flavored liqueurs is a big one. Let's get a few things straight at the start. Triple Sec is orange liqueur usually made from dried bitter and sweet orange peels and grain alcohol. There are many different brands of triple sec, like Cointreau and Grand Marnier. Cointreau is apparently brandy-based, though a trip to their purple-prosed site reveals nothing but very funny copy. Grand Marnier is a cognac-based orange liqueur. I'm sure I've had my fair share of "well" orange liqueurs, like De Kuypers and Marie Brizard, but I think I've stayed clear of Curaçao, that crazy blue stuff.

A while back I was sent some sour oranges from my mother in Florida and being fairly marmaladed out, I decided to make some booze. I had brandy in the house so I decided to go with it. I guess this is a Cointreau-style triple sec? There were a few recipes I sifted through, but what I was most intrigued by was a technique to bake orange slices at a low temperature first and then to soak the slices.

Preheat oven to 200 degrees

4 large sour oranges, sliced 1/8"

Arrange the slices on a cookie tray lined with parchment paper in a single layer. Bake them for two hours and then leave them in the warm oven. Doing this step at night works well--leave them overnight in the oven. Place citrus slices in a quart jar, cover with brandy and let sit for four weeks. Then strain the fruit, leaving the brandy in the jar. Add one cup of sugar and let sit for two more weeks, inverting jar daily until sugar is dissolved.

Note: I froze my brandy soaked citrus, thinking it might be a lovely addition to a marmalade whenever I get the impetus to make marmalade again.

I didn't add a simple syrup to the brandy because I wanted to really taste the oranges. As I'm writing this, I'm sipping a small glass. It's not as sweet as triple sec (though I must admit, I haven't had a straight slug of triple sec since I was what, 13?), and the taste of oranges first, followed by a bitter tang afterwards is very pleasurable. I now know why this was at one time a digestif, or aperitif.

Check out these other recipes:
Mrs. Wheelbarrow's version with Cara Cara oranges and vodka
An interesting version from Thursday Happy Hour that "tastes like orange hard candy"
and one from Food, Literature, Philosophy

Roasted. About to be soaked in brandy.

Corned Beef Brisket

2011-03-15T20:57:00.003-04:00

Can it possibly be the third month of Charcutepalooza?? Are you following along with Mrs. Wheelbarrow and The Yummy Mummy? And Punk Domestics and Food52? It seems like everywhere I go on the internet, I've got delicious, meat-curing company. This month's challenge--brining meats--can be found here in detail. Because I already had a grass-fed, local, five pound brisket in the freezer, I was prepared. There were plans for this thing to be corned beef as soon as I got it.

It wasn't me who had the plans, by the way. My husband, who is half Irish, had made the bid. Me? If I see an St. Patrick's Day parade I run the other way. Needless to say, I don't have any memories of brisket, in any way. I'm sure my mother made it once or twice. And I've made it once or twice to appease my husband. A huge sandwich from Katz's deli in NYC or some smoked meat from Montreal's Schwartz's once every couple of years and I'd be fine. The times I've made it before I didn't realize I was making corned beef, because honestly, it didn't taste like corned beef. It tasted good, like a nice chunk of beef, a little bland, surrounded by watery cabbage. Not too exciting.

Up until now in this challenge, I've been pink salt-less. This month I decided I wanted that pinky pink salt corned beef. But then I did a weird thing. I was rushed for some reason (I'm an impatient sort) and felt like I didn't have time for ordering pink salt on line. So, I went to Agway, a local feed/garden store, forever lured by their surprisingly well-stocked preserving section, and purchased some Morton's Tender Quick, a curing salt blend. I based my Tender Quick calculations on a post on a Garden Web forum. (Btw, Garden Web forums are filled with gems. There are some obsessive people posting willy nilly on those things!) The Kitchn also had a post on corned beef with Tender Quick, but I felt that two cups of Tender Quick was too much.

What happened? I heated up my cure and spices in water in a big pot. Once it was dissolved I put it on the porch to cool, and it really smelled amazing, of peppercorns and juniper goodness. Later on that evening, after trimming the meat well, I put it into a ziploc with the brine, and it sat in the fridge for about a week. It didn't turn very pink, which I was happy with. As I cooked it off (in the largest braising pan I have) the house smelled incredible. It was done in three hours.

Once cooked, it was brightly pink, and delicious, though I will say that it was a tad dry for my liking. Steve, however, was elated. And we ate it for days. This huge slab of meat kept giving. The next day I made massive grilled corned beef sandwiches, reuben-esque, you might say. Wheat bread, muenster cheese, thick slices of corned beef, and some crazy good garlic and dill relish. Then on Sunday morning we had a huge plate of the best ever corned beef hash. Now, that was worthwhile. How can people eat that dog food they sell in cans??

The thing I hate the most about corned beef dinners is the cabbage. Something about cabbage that's been boiled for hours makes me a bit ill. I did a quick boiled salad instead, lightly pickled. Here it is:

Two parsnips, peeled and thinly sliced in rounds
One small head of cabbage, cut into bite-sized wedges
A few carrots, peeled and sliced
Scallions, chopped

In boiling water, cook the root vegetables one at a time for two to three minutes, pulling them out with a slotted spoon for the next batch. Put them in a bowl as you go, and toss the scallions in at the end to wilt. Dissolve a tablespoon of sugar in a quarter of a cup of apple cider vinegar and pour over the warm veg. Let them sit and pickle a little.

Corny beef.

What To Do When Your Jams Fail

2011-03-06T20:16:00.000-05:00

I've been really, really lucky lately. Not only did I get some calamondins sent to me from Florida, but I also got some star fruit. My mother is pretty dang cool. And so is the friend who owns the trees she picked these fruit from! After opening this huge box of star fruit (or carambola), I got right to work preserving them. I froze some, slicing them and freezing them on trays. Star fruit are good for fresh eating, and I'm not completely sold on canning them. I should point out that star fruit are high in oxalic acid, and those with kidney issues might want to abstain. I didn't know that about star fruit!

STOP. That's how this post started last week. To be honest, I wasn't too thrilled with my preserves, so what did I do? Made another batch of star fruit jam. I don't learn. I had heard people raving about star fruit jam. Why just the other day while my son ate a star fruit for snack time in toddler play group, a father gushed about the star fruit jam he had once and how good it was. I must have just made a mistake on the first batch, I thought.

Well, star fruit jam is not as easy as it seems. And if you want my opinion, it doesn't make a good jam on its own. I'm not the only one who says that. The woman whose tree I got mine from concurs. I learned this after I made the two jams. I did find, however, that they are good mixed with something else. I made a key lime-star fruit-calamondin marmalade, and it came out quite nicely. I think star fruit need to be with other fruit. Like pineapple. Wendy Read of Sunchowder's Emporia gave me a starfruit recipe that paired the carambola with pineapple. Did I use it? No. Though I bet pineapple would be perfect! Anything with high acidity and punch would be nice. How about Flamingo Musings' Carambola Pepper Jam? (Which I didn't make.) Something spicy might be just the kick that star fruit need. Sigh.

So. I made two jams. One is preserved star fruit with orange peel pectin. The other is a light jam that I used Pomona's Pectin in, and lowered the sugar thinking it would let the subtle taste of the star fruit shine. Nope. And neither jam set. The reason why I posting this is not to complain (well, maybe a little), but to point out that once you have made a jam that you are not happy with, there are a few things you can do to avoid chucking the lot. I do admit though, there are times when tossing it seems the only route. One time I saw a chef's batch of nectarine jam that had turned to candy. Hard as a rock. That might need to be tossed.

1. Let it sit and try it in a month or two. I just tasted a peach ginger preserve that I thought was boring, and upon tasting it I found I was dead wrong. It's delicious. Was I bored of peaches at the time? Did it need to sit? Who knows. But I'm glad I didn't give it all away.

2. Cook with it. I'm always adding a half-pint of jam to one baked good or another. Obvious choices are muffins and quick breads and smoothies. Make sure to reduce the sugar in the recipe. Or the obvious savory applications, like roasted or grilled meats, salad dressings and the like. Sometimes dull or bland preserves are the perfect thing for cooking applications.

3. Re-cook it. Yes, open those jars and add it to some more fruit and make a new jam. Obviously, this is for someone who's comfortable creating their own jams. But keep this in mind: you can can foods that have already been canned. Capisce? I opened four jars and made a Meyer lemon star fruit jam. I think it tastes great, but still the set isn't perfect. That is no problem at all because now it actually tastes good. I might use the rest for a chutney. And I don't have to turn these around right away. I can wait a little bit. Star fruit rhubarb jam perhaps?

4. Give it away to someone who might like it. I wouldn't do this with these star fruit jams, because they just weren't right. It tasted like I made cucumber jam. Bleh. But sometimes it's just a personal issue. And if you give it away, then it's their problem! Ha, just kidding. I recently received a lovely jar of banana jam, and I couldn't get past the smell. I have a thing with cooked bananas. I think it's psychological. But put in a batch of buttermilk muffins, and then I'm eating way too many.

What do you do when your jams fail? Besides curse, of course.

Oven Canning

2011-02-28T21:18:00.003-05:00

NOTE: Oven canning is a controversial subject that I wanted to discuss, not necessarily to recommend. I want to state again that the NCHFP is against oven canning, and they make the guidelines for safe food preservation. If you are a new canner, please stick with a boiling water bath to process your food. Please read through all the comments, they are informative and helpful. I want to stress that when discussing this procedure, it is with regard to high-acid jams, marmalades and jellies only.

Recently I made some star fruit jam (recipe to follow in a few days!). It was a rather large batch, so I felt it was time to try something new: a method of sealing your jars that is called oven canning. There's a lot of dissent on the subject, and I'm writing down what I've come across, both yay and nay, in order to make some sense of the subject. I'd love to hear from you in the comments section if you have any thoughts!

I first became aware of this technique via artisan jam company, Blue Chair Fruit. BCF proprietor, jammer and author, Rachel Saunders, uses the oven for sealing her jars and recommends this process in her book. Many other small jamming companies use this procedure. Why? I think the biggest reason is because you can process a lot of jars at once. What's surprising is it's frowned upon by the National Center for Home Preserving, and many other canning heavy hitters. So then why are companies allowed to do it? [Side note: Honestly, you could let your jars seal on their own (which is called open kettle sealing) and no one would be the wiser. It's sealed, right? Who cares how you sealed it? And, as you won't get any really bad stuff from fruit (as long as said fruit are not low acid) you really would never know. Oops! I'm digressing.]

I've been asking around about this, ever since a friend of mine took a class with BCF and raved about the technique. She loved that she didn't need to bring her big pot out, and fill it with water, etc. etc. Point taken. Rebecca at RCakewalk also found it to be a great technique; check out her post on it. I pestered Doris from Doris and Jilly Cook about it and she said, sure, why not? As long as you don't get silly and use this technique with anything but fruit. Why? Because fruit is higher in acid, and generally less risky. (Please see Doris' comment below, with clarification on what she had said to me about oven canning.)

Here's how it goes:

Oven canning: Heat your oven to 250 degrees. If you are not sure of your oven's temperatures, and don't have a oven thermometer, I suggest that you stick with water bath canning. (And then, go out and buy a oven thermometer, for goodness sakes! They're, like, four bucks.) On a cookie tray arrange your jars facing up. You will want to heat these for a good thirty minutes. BCF recommends putting the lids in at the same time, but I thought that might compromise the rubber seal so I put them in, rubber side up, at the last ten minutes.

Be careful! If you leave the jars in over a half hour (which is fine) please watch out when you start ladling your fruit in. Always, always pour a little bit in first. If the jars are too hot, it will bubble immediately (and possibly splatter you). If this happens, let the jars cool a few minutes before you begin. Fill the jars as directed in your recipe (usually 1/4 to 1/2 inch). Seal the jars, and return them to the oven for about fifteen minutes. When they are done, put the cookie tray with the jars on it cool on a rack. They will ping as usual, and seal themselves.

It took me a while to try this out as I'm a creature of habit, and I've come to find that this technique seemingly works just fine. The best thing about it, is that when doing larger batches (which I rarely do) it's easier. It's also a lot quieter. Call me crazy but a pot of water boiling furiously for almost an hour sort of keeps me on edge. Using the oven, it was just me and the pot of jam. I usually do very small batches, only around four or five half-pints at a time.

However, I am new to this process and am still feeling it out. I would love hear what you have to say about it. Have you tried it? Do you love it? Do you utilize it in your business? When Saunders was on Martha Stewart's show, she made a jam and also showed her oven technique. Martha seemed to dig it. There's a lot of appreciation for it, but there's also a great deal of vehement opposition.

Here are a few quotes from some venerable institutions, all in the anti-oven-canning-camp:

From the National Center for Home Food Preservation:

"Is it safe to process food in the oven?
No. This can be dangerous because the temperature will vary according to the accuracty of oven regulators and circulation of heat. Dry heat is very slow in penetrating into jars of food. Also, jars explode easily in the oven."

From the Agricultural Extension Service at the University of Tennessee:

"...food inside a canning jar in the oven can be heated no higher than the boiling point of water (212 degress F at sea level) regardless of how high the air temperature is inside the oven. This is a basic law of physics."

From Pick Your Own:

"Oven canning is extremely hazardous."

Candied Calamondins

2011-02-20T20:27:00.001-05:00

I recently got an amazing package in the mail from my mother. It was filled with calamondins: leetle, teeny, tiny oranges with a super sour bite. They can be found, on a bush or small tree, in the tropical south zones. Originally from Southeast Asia, they have been planted here as an ornamental, but you know me, I'm wanna eat it! I received about five pounds (me to my mom after she sent me a small handful to inspect: "No, that's not enough, I need more"). So far I've started calamondins in gin, and salt-preserved calamondins. As it so often goes during this time of year, I'm a little marmaladed out. I was wracking my mind for something new. After paging through a million books, I settled on this recipe for Kumquat Preserves from this kooky book:

You probably have a stack of vintage cookbooks like these, right? I particularly like the ones that have canning sections even though you are not to follow them for canning, as they are outdated and possibly unsafe, as per USDA and the National Center for Home Food Preservation. However, my personal guidelines for these recipes are that usually fruit is a safe bet. I do my research, I compare recipes, I check the sugar, etc. I decided to can these at ten minutes. They are so high in acid, and the only other ingredients are sugar and honey, that I felt it was safe to can. But that's me. I'm crazy like that.

It is said that calamondins can be used in recipes like kumquats, but I don't know about that. Calamondins have very thin skin and are very juicy and filled with sort of big pits. More like a really small tangerine. I love these old recipes. They take a little while to decipher. Just a small paragraph and you're on your own. Which I like. I will note that I almost didn't add the 2 cups of honey the original asked for. 2 cups of sugar and 2 cups of honey seemed like a lot to me. Then I realized that the honey is the glucose that keeps the sugar from crystallizing, so I quickly threw in a 1/4 cup of honey. It seems to have worked, but maybe I'm making that up.

I am really looking forward to these as a garnish for a drink, come the warmer weather. They are certainly candied yet very tart. Maybe with that calamondin gin I'm making. And don't forget about the nice syrup you get as a extra bonus! The most brilliant idea I came across for calamondins is to freeze them and use them as ice cubes. Maybe I can get my mom to send me some more...

Candied Calamondins

adapted from My Better Homes and Gardens Cookbook, 1940

Note: this is a three day or so procedure.

1 quart of calamondins

1 quart of water

2 cups of sugar

1/4 cup of honey

Calamondins, when plucked from the plant, will rip the stem right out of the skin. When you pick them you might want to use clippers or shears so that they stay intact until you need to use them. Otherwise, they shrivel up, and who wants that? When you are ready to use them, pull the stems gently out. You will have a small hole where each stem was. Perfect. If you were preparing kumquats, you would prick the skins. This is so they can absorb the sugar.

Soak the fruit overnight in salt water. 1 quart of water, 1 quart of fruit, 1 teaspoon of salt. Why? I don't know. Maybe you can tell me. I was skeptical, but strangely I did it.

Drain them. Cover with fresh water in a preserving pot and bring to a boil. Cook until tender. Which was a few minutes. These are very thin-skinned fruit. Drain.

Have this heating up in another good preserving pot: 2 cups of sugar, 4 cups of water, 1/4 cup of honey. Once this is simmering, add the drained, tenderly boiled fruit in. Simmer until the fruits look translucent, and the syrup is thick. (When did we stop spelling syrup sirup?) Pour this mixture into a glass bowl and cover with wax paper.

Let stand for two days.

Bring back to a simmer for ten minutes and cook until it looks right. For me that meant thick syrup, candied fruits. I ladled the calamondins into hot 4 ounce jars and processed in a boiling water bath for ten minutes. If you prefer, pour the whole lot into a quart jar, seal it. When it's cool put it in the fridge. They will probably last until you have a nice cocktail party. And then they will be gone!

For more a-quat-ic inspiration go check out Michael's candied mandarinquats and Tigress' fermented sweet preserved kumquats!

Bacon, Guanciale

2011-02-15T21:42:00.001-05:00

Quite a nice Valentine's Day!

Where to begin? I guess it could start with a tweet on Twitter (#charcutepalooza). I tweeted that the bacon I had just made was the best I'd ever had. Mrs. Wheelbarrow congratulated me on converting. And I said that I had been converted last year, but now I was proselytizing. Indeed, I am here to sing the praises of curing your own bacon, and guanciale. They are totally worth all the sitting around I did, living my own life, while they did their own magical thing with salt and time, transforming into amazing cured products that turn everything they touch into tasty, tasty gold. That little number above? That was our appetizer on Monday night. Nice, right?

What made my bacon the best I'd ever had was the high-quality pork belly I had purchased at Fleisher's Meats. It's all about the ingredients. Everything will taste better and be better for you when it's all about the ingredients. Look at this pork belly.

Suggestively fleshy.

And the after shot. I usually use this Saveur recipe, but this time omitted the seasoning in favor of just a bit of cracked pepper. I'm so glad I did. It was so simple and the flavor of the meat itself just shined.

Isn't that how bacon should look?

Other than just having slices fried up for dinner or breakfast or whenever I could get a free minute, I enjoyed this special snack I made for Valentine's day:

I cooked some oysters right on the stovetop cast-iron grill alongside a few slices of bacon. You know they are done when they open their shells. (They go a lot quicker on an outdoor grill, but mine's asleep until spring.) Then, you can grab them with a oven-mitted hand and rip off the flat shell. Put them on a plate, top them with some bacon and a touch of chopped preserved lemons, chopped chives and cheers! Drink some champagne.

Oysters and bacon.

Part Two: Guanciale

Hog jowl.

What is it about these winter-lit shots of raw meat that are so seamy? Is it the butcher paper? The crinkly plastic wrap? I don't know but these are like pin-ups. So. Ahem.

I loved the Babbo recipe, and of course referred to Wrightfood, too. (Confession: I haven't bought my copy of Charcuterie yet. So far, I'm the only person sitting at the Barnes & Noble Thomas the Train play table watching my toddler play trains while reading a book on meat curing. That may change soon, though. Either I will get the book, or more people will be reading up on guanciale while playing trains. My favorite train? Salty!)

Threading meat was a novelty.

You know, I had no idea how much I'd love guanciale. And I had no idea how different it was from bacon. I sort of thought: yeah, well, it's just more bacon, right? And that would be: wrong. After it's initial salt soak in the fridge, I hung it in the basement with a little cloth covering it. (I got an okay from guru Bob del Grosso on this; my basement is very dusty.) After two and a half weeks it felt and looked right, but it didn't lose the 30% weight. So, being that today was post day I decided to chance it and pull it.

Look at that pristine white fat! I sauteed some up to make this bastardized version of an amatriciana sauce. A few slices fried up turns glassy first, and they a little browned on the edges. A taste reveals such sweetness (again, that Fleisher's meat) and nuttiness! This is what we ate tonight for dinner. Not bad for a stay at home mom whose two and a half year old is on a nap strike.

Chopped guanciale sauteed until golden. Add one medium onion, diced, saute until soft. Add one jar of sauce (homemade, canned, from my garden) slowly, until all is incorporated. Add a few chopped celery leaves (no parsley in the house, celery leaves from summer, frozen). Toss in pasta of your choice (organic wheat rigatoni), serve with pecorino shavings. Now, wolf it down and chase your toddler who is choking the cat and try to get him to sleep!

Purple Podded Pea Soup

2011-02-10T13:00:00.000-05:00

Writing purple podded pea soup was irresistible, but this post is really about my garden and these peas I dried. Right now my little garden is under two feet of snow with a thick crust of ice on top. So, when I take things out from the pantry or freezer it's really like a postcard from summer, and a glimpse into next summer.

It doesn't necessarily have to be from my own garden to get me verklempt. I pulled a quart of huge, red tomatoes from the freezer that were from my friend Dana's garden and used them to make some incredible chili. The red of these great big heirlooms was a shock to my winter-glazed eyes. What's so cool is that it was Dana's first garden in many years. She was a little worried that it wouldn't work out, but it not only supplied her family with food, she had to unload some on me! Bless her soul.

He called them Thai fish chilis...

How about these amazing peppers from pals John and Jen? They're been gardening in the New Paltz Community Gardens for years now, I believe. John makes some outrageous hot sauces, so he goes heavy on the peppers. I never grow peppers, but I think this year I will. Look at how incredible these are! I strung them up in the kitchen and after about five months they are dry and ready to pop into meals. Like chili.

When I bought the purple podded peas seeds from the Hudson Valley Seed Library, I wasn't quite sure what I had gotten. I thought I would be able to eat them off the vine. Technically I could, but they were a bit tough. A tweet answered from those nice folks at the library told me what I suspected: they were peas for drying. What happens with legumes that you dry? Very simply: they dried on the vine, I shelled them, stored them in a mason jar, and took them out recently to make some pea soup. They did not look like split peas at all. The look like pea seeds, which they are. My yield from a little row of peas was one and a half cups. I tossed them in a pot, added eight cups of water, some chunks of ham, and let it cook for quite a few hours. It tasted just like pea soup, even though it doesn't quite look like pea soup.

It's nice to have a helper for shelling dried peas.

However, growing these peas, as I noted, didn't yield much. My rationale for growing them again is this: legumes are wonderful for your soil, they are what's called nitrogen-fixing plants, and naturally provide nitrogen for your garden (for more in depth but simple information on this process follow this link). So, if I get a pot of soup out of it, all the better. It's also a beautiful plant and easy to grow. Remember that when you plant peas or beans you will want to look into inoculant for your soil to get the best results. The inoculant (a naturally occurring bacteria) helps the plants to fix the nitrogen. I bought a small bag at my local gardening store and sprinkled it in the soil before planting.

Purple podded peas!

If you want to get serious about growing dried legumes, you're going to need a lot of room to plant quite a few plants. I'm not sure that I have enough room for that. Already I am working on how I'm going to plant everything I want to grow this year. I built three new beds last year! And already I know I'll run out of room. It's not just that I want to grow more, but I want quantity. I'm trying to keep in mind that the last two summers were probably the worst ones we've had in years. Two years ago it rained incessantly. Last year it didn't rain at all. However, my spirits are never dashed; I am completely optimistic about this year.

The walk to the compost pile is arduous.

What are you dreaming about with regards to gardening? Do you have seeds already started? Or are you still dreaming in the snow, like me? Have you been gardening for years, or are you just starting?

Mr. and Mrs. Elderberry need wetter quarters.
I'm dreaming about more fruit plants, moving my elderberries to a new home by the pond, creating a new composting system, building more growing space. Although, I've been gardening my whole life, and my current garden is now five years old, I always, always feel like a novice. I just keep on learning!

Super Rice Bowl

2011-02-06T12:46:00.000-05:00

This is about as close as I get to a post on super bowl anything.

I love sushi, but I don't have it often. And when I do, I have a vegetarian option. What I really crave, aside from the silky beautifulness of high-quality raw fish, is rice and seaweed and ginger and soy. When I get a fix of that, I tend to not miss the fish anymore. And I try to not get all in-your-face political over here, but if people don't stop eating fish, we will not have any more. Period.

So. I recently was given a brand new rice cooker, which I was like wha? Whatever will I do with that? After a great discussion on my Facebook page about it, I gave it a go. And I like it. I mean, I didn't think rice could get any easier, but it did. And easier clean up too. I'll make a few cups of rice in the beginning of the week. I'll heat up a cup of rice for lunch, and add to that a half of a perfectly ripe avocado, seaweed, pickled ginger and a few shakes of soy sauce. You can put anything on it of course: some edamame, an egg, greens, pickles, vegetables chopped in matchsticks, sesame seeds.

The pickled ginger from The Ginger People is addicting, for the record. Steve asked me why I didn't make some of my own, and it's really because I love this stuff so much. I bought a case of it. And the seaweed is Yama Moto Yama seaweed snack chips. I snip them with my kitchen scissors right onto my rice.

I'm sure I'm being very basic here with the add-ons. If you have a great idea, let me know in the comments, would you? This way of eating has been a great way to avoid the lure of grilled cheese sandwiches, so I don't want to tire of it!

Duck Prosciutto Bread

2011-02-01T13:23:00.000-05:00

In my experimentation with the duck prosciutto, I think this is my favorite thus far. Back in the day (that's about eight years ago) I used to live in NYC, Brooklyn to be exact, and I used to get some really exemplary prosciutto bread. Maybe it was Joe's Busy Corner in Williamsburg, or perhaps it was Caputo's in Carroll Gardens, I really don't remember. But it was chewy bread, with a good crust, studded with prosciutto and cracked black pepper. (You know things are good when they're studded!) Meaty, spicy, salty and chewy bread. That's what makes a girl happy. So, when seeing the duck prosciutto in the fridge the other day, it dawned upon me that I could make prosciutto bread. I can get nice prosciutto, but if I'm laying out the cash for it, I'm having it sliced in see-through slips with nothing else (sounds dirty, doesn't it?). But the duck prosciutto? It's perfect for cubing and stuffing it into dough.

For bread, I usually use the guidelines for the basic dough in Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day. I make it and leave it in the fridge in a large food-grade plastic container, and when I'm ready I can throw together a quick loaf of bread. In this case, today's bread began with a look out the window to see more snow pouring down ceaselessly. An ice storm is due tomorrow. If this meaty bread doesn't cure my winter time ennui, I don't know what will. Maybe those three boxes of wine I have down in the basement. Yes, boxes. Don't knock it!

One loaf I rolled out and sprinkled cubes of prosciutto over it, adding fresh ground black pepper. Then I rolled it back up and pinched the ends. The other one was more focaccia-style. The rolled one steamed the meat, and made the inside all nice and duck-fatty. The focaccia one made the duck get all crispy crackly on the top. I really think the best way to approach would be to start with a new batch of bread, so that when incorporating the flour, you can add the prosciutto, so that the meat and dough cling to each other. But this is certainly not a bad place to start.

Duck (Prosciutto) Soup

2011-01-30T15:38:00.001-05:00

What I love about things like cured meats and homemade stock, is that when you have those things on hand, simple things become elevated. It doesn't take much to make a five minute soup that is stellar. And I'm not the only one. I had just taken these photos and was eating my soup and reading when I came upon this post by Peter at cookblog who eloquently discusses the merits of having wonderful things like cured meats on hand.

All I did was heat up some chicken stock, throw in some frozen spinach (organic--once the bag is open you can grab a handful and toss it in, not like those big blocks you often find), a handful of frozen scallions (from the garden) and once in a bowl I topped it with a few slices of duck prosciutto. I didn't need to add any salt or flavoring because the duck took care of that. It just takes a few minutes for something amazing once you have a few items on hand.

Meyer Lemon Marmalade Shortbread

2011-01-25T14:22:00.001-05:00

Sunny day via Meyer lemon marmalade shortbread.

You know, I really meant to start the new year off by not posting so many sweet baked goods, but it's winter and there's just no way around it. Add to that the meat curing that will be going on here this year, and this will make a very unbalanced blog indeed. I assure you that I do eat some brown rice and vegetables from time to time.

I got bit by the citrus bug a little later than last year's obsession. I think it just clamped down on me last week. Last week I made candied citrus peels, blood orange-clementine-quince marmalade, and I haven't even used up last year's Meyer lemon marmalade. These Meyer lemons were sent to me from Shae from Hitchhiking to Heaven. She makes the best Meyer lemon marmalade I've ever had, and her recipe is in her eBook. I made a big batch and still had a huge pint left that I never canned in the fridge. So, I have been experimenting. And this has been the best experiment so far. And the easiest.

I can eat way too many of these.

Meyer Lemon Marmalade Shortbread

1 1/2 sticks of butter
1/4 cup confectioner's sugar
1/4 cup of sugar
1/4 teaspoon of salt

1 1/2 cups of all-purpose flour

1/4 cup of Meyer lemon marmalade (or any other marmalade would work)

Process first four ingredients until creamed in food. Add flour and pulse so dough comes together a bit; it will still be grainy. Dump it out into a square un-greased pan (8x8), pat it into the pan and smooth it out, then prick with a fork. Bake for about thirty minutes at 300 degrees. At this point the edges should be just starting to get golden, and the top should be firm. Gently smooth the marmalade on the surface. Return the pan to the oven and bake for ten more minutes. Let cool in pan. You could dust it with powdered sugar, but I liked the sunny yellow color. We have enough snow here!

What the reality is. Still tasty, but a little colder.

Raspberry Currant "Pop Tarts" and a Winterlude

2011-01-21T14:26:00.001-05:00

Pop tarts. Toast pastries. Jam pies. Whatever. These were emphatically good.

We are now in the deep freeze part of the winter, and the feeling of it is like being in a submarine and slowly dropping lower and lower into the dark ocean. Or what it looks like in the movies when the sonar is going blip blip blip and it gets dark and the actor's brows furrow because they know it is only by some miracle that they are going to escape the deep without the great squid attacking them or something like that. What I'm trying to say, it that it feels pretty bleak right about now, and it's not even February. We've had quite a bit of snow and the cold has been constant and brutal. We had an ice storm this week. Ice storms are completely useless, destructive even, but they are gorgeous when the sun comes out.

This is about as precise as I get.

I'm not trying to complain about the weather here. I know there are colder places, and that there are warmer ones as well. My mother is always telling me how warm it is in Florida (where she is, naturally) when I complain about the cold. But the idea of living in Florida is anathema to me. You see, the cold is horrendous, but winter has its special beauty that I'm not immune to. What I really love, though, is the change of the seasons. There is nothing better in the world than when spring comes. When the wind tosses your hat, and the mud is endless, and thing swell. That, my friends, is what makes winter so tolerable. And honestly, though it feels so far away, it's there. The days are getting longer, have you noticed? We are on our way back to spring.

A crostada for the leftover bits of dough and jam.

A fine thing about winter is the space is allows you to go deep, as it were, into your brain space and try to figure out what all you were chattering on about for the rest of the year. Right now I don't feel an urge towards talking about anything in particular, and a real feeling of hibernation has come over me in which I have taken a few steps back from the computer (just a few, obviously) and returned to the world of books. I'm reading a novel. Gasp! (Cordelia Underwood by Van Reid, if you're curious.) I'm sort of exhausted by cook books, and cooking magazines, and all sorts of cooking things. I like to draw, even if it's silly things that I draw with markers on cardboard. I also like to play guitar and write songs, so I'm doing some of that now too. And going for very cold walks.

Some of my favorite apple trees.

It's not like I'm not cooking, though. These pop tart thingees were amazing. If you google it you'll find a ton of homemade recipes, but I just used pie dough and some raspberry currant jam. I ate them verrrry quickly. And I make a jam or jelly every week. But I'm slowing down a lot. How about you?

Duck Prosciutto

2011-01-15T10:48:00.000-05:00

This post is my first installment of the meaty, year-long extravaganza called Charcutepalooza, co-created by the amazingly dedicated and hard-working Cathy Barrow of Mrs. Wheelbarrow and Kim Foster of the Yummy Mummy. There will be monthly postings by over a hundred bloggers on curing, smoking and salting all following recipes from the wonderful book Charcuterie by Michael Ruhlman and Brian Polcyn. Check out the Facebook page for Charcutepalooza and see what others are up to!

I already told myself that this would be the year that I would focus on preserving meat and making cheese, and it looks like I'm certainly not alone in this endeavor. About 90% of the meat our family eats is locally-sourced. And we've worked really hard at cutting down the meat consumption, both in portion size and how many times a week we eat it. Where I live in the Hudson Valley of New York, I find it's been really simple to source great local meat. Fleisher's in Kingston, the Hudson Valley Food Network's Split and Share discussion group, and wonderful farmers and their markets every week have made it easy for me to have amazing quality local meat. (Sadly, due to where I live I can't join the Charcuterie CSA at The Piggery, based in Ithaca, with CSA drop-offs in NYC).

However, the real reason I want to make charcuterie is because I love it. Like, a lot. I have many fond memories of standing on a chair with an apron wrapped around me twice, the gunmetal-colored meat grinder attached to the sink, a bowl beneath, watching, mesmerized by the meat being forced out the holes. (Best play-doh ever!) My parents always ground their own meat, and made sausages. We always had casings in the fridge. I love this stuff. It's in my blood. Last year I made bacon and gravlax, both amazingly delicious. And let's not forget the cost in purchasing charcuterie. So there you have it. The motivation is there. But sometimes even then I need a little kick in the pants.

Bresaola and duck prosciutto in Peter's kitchen.

Rewind. Back in June, I had the good fortune to attend a meat curing class taught by Peter at cookblog. Aside from learning something every time I read his blog, Peter also writes a great column in the local magazine Chronogram. I was totally excited to be in his gorgeous new kitchen (that he built) among a group of like-minded folks learning about curing whole-muscle cuts. My brain sort of short-circuited when I tasted some of the lovely things he served us, like the duck prosciutto and amazing bread (made by a friend of his, if I recall correctly) or the miso-cured bacon we gorged on at the end of the class. There was a good deal of eye rolling going on, and not in the sarcastic way. In the oh-my-god-did-I-just-eat-some-salty-heaven?? kind of way.

That bacon was dangerously good.

Like the good-natured dork I am, I asked the group (was I on a salt high?) "Who's going right home and making this stuff??" And everyone looked at me like wha? So, yeah, I didn't go right home and make the five things we learned, but I have an excuse. Did you happen to notice what kind of summer it was in my area? Probably not, but it was HOT. So hot that having hanging meat around was probably not the best thing in the world. Add that to the canning frenzy I was in, and I was a goner from the get go. But now it's winter, and I'm ready to make and eat some salty meat. So.

Salt - a player.

A few notes about making the prosciutto itself. First off, do you know Cooking Light has a recipe for this online? I was sort of surprised! It's basically just salt and duck, and some pepper or what have you. I chose black pepper instead of white pepper (um, didn't have white pepper...). I sort of timed this wrong by making it on New Year's Eve while busily preparing for the evening. No cheesecloth? No problem, I used an old linen. (I never buy cheesecloth; instead I use old, worn (clean) linens instead.) I hung them in the basement. Our basement in that corner is consistently 60 degrees. I'm not positive about the humidity, but I'm guessing it's about 60%. I based that on using our de-humidifier to roughly guess. So, I think it's okay barring the two little windows which let in a bit of light. I might need to shade them off if I do any more hanging of meat. (My fig tree is in that area, and it was supposed to be dormant but I just found a shoot coming off of it!)

One of the things I learned was the importance of weighing the meat before you hang it, as you can judge when your meat is done by how much weight it lost during the hanging. You want to look for a 30% weight loss. I didn't weigh the breasts until they were already hanging for two days. And I'll be honest, I'm not too scientific. I pulled them a week and two days after they were hung, and I thought they felt good (not too hard, not too soft). Once unwrapped the outside seemed like it was getting a little "jerked." Once sliced the inside was garnet, and I felt maybe a hair too pink. I think it was done though, and chose not to rehang them and risk drying them too much. I'm still wondering if I pulled them too soon; I've been known to do that. A day in the fridge has toughened them and made them darker. It tastes outrageously good, duck-y, prosciutto-y, and rich. Ta da!

A little bit of jerkification on the fat-less side.

I don't have a recipe with which to showcase this, though I'm sure I'll just invite some friends over and eat it up, tout suite. Maybe with a champagne cocktail with elderberry syrup in it. Or in a risotto. That sounds just perfect.

Kielbasa Potato Soup with Caramelized Onions and Kale Chips

2011-01-09T14:04:00.000-05:00

An antidote to winter

I don't think I'm alone in saying that soup is one of winter time's greatest joys. I was visiting friends on a cold winter's day, replete with blue skies, scintillating sun and blustery wind that swept the powdery snow every which way. While riding on a tobbaggan behind their four-year old son, which was being pulled by a snowmobile, I fell off on a fast turn. Not wearing snow pants (like a rube, I might add) I was cold to the bone when I finally got home. No matter. This soup warmed me up in no time at all.

This soup was born out of leftovers, as many good soups are. I've broken it down to be a stand alone recipe. However, you might want to have kielbasa sauteed with onions and boiled potatoes the night before and just make sure you have a good amount of leftovers!

Kielbasa and Potato Soup with Caramelized Onions and Kale Chips

Boil six potatoes in their jackets, peel when cool. Can be done the day before and kept in the fridge. Right before they are to be added to the soup, mash each one with a potato masher squarely, so they are not mashed but instead in nice cubes and chunks.

Make kale chips. Can be done a week beforehand. Keep in an airtight container.

1 large bunch of kale. Stem removed and chopped. Spread out on a cookie sheet and bake at 350 degrees for ten or fifteen minutes. Maybe longer. Keep an eye on it! It goes from crisp to burnt in a matter of a minute. I like to salt them when they come out of the oven.

In a large Dutch oven pour one or two tablespoonfuls of olive oil and saute two medium yellow onions and one small red onion until brown and sweet. I like to slice them in thin wedges.

Add in one large red pepper in large dice a little before the onions are done, so they become soft.

Add a large kielbasa in at the same time as the peppers. Cut in slices on the diagonal, cut in half. Let them brown a little as the onions caramelize.

Then add the potatoes and six cups of water, slowly, so that it never gets cold. Add about two cups of water and two potatoes at a time, waiting for it to come to a simmer again, then adding the next batch. When you have them all added, and it's back to a simmer, let the soup cook with the lid partially on for about ten minutes. Then add half the kale chips, which will turn into the kale with the soft consistency of spinach. Reserve the rest of the chips to serve on the table for whoever wants more kale or some crunch.

The kielbasa salts the soup, so you don't really need to add any salt at all. Maybe a few grinds of pepper. Now all you need to do is fall off a speeding snowmobile!

Potatoes, kale, kielbasa, onions- that's it!

Elderberry Syrup

2011-01-02T14:49:00.000-05:00

Happy 2011! I don't want to jinx myself by writing this post, but it's been in the hopper since the summer, and I thought January of the new year would be a great time to talk about the health benefits of your own totally local elderberry syrup. I haven't been sick yet, and I'd like to think that it's due to a few tricks to staying healthy. One of them being taking a spoonful of elderberry syrup every now and then when I think I'm running low, or when people around me start to get sick.

This summer I had a bit of an elderberry obsession. I found scraps of time to bike around my neighborhood sussing out where the elderberry bush grows. My own two little sambucus canadensis plants have miserable, and now I know that where I planted them was not optimal. Elderberries like swampy lands, their feet well in the water, face in the sun. Once I started looking, of course, I found them everywhere. Even on my property, on the edge of the pond, being choked out by alder bushes. I've since trimmed the alders back, and come spring I will transplant my two unfortunate troopers to a prime spot all cleared out: nice and wet, super sunny. I hope one day to encourage a whole passel of elderberry bushes down there, but in the meantime they are all over my immediate neighborhood for the picking.

Elderberries are not entirely edible!

The thing you want to be careful with is this: elderberries shouldn't really be eaten raw, and don't eat any of the leaves. And as with all foraging, you want to be sure they are elderberries! Now, what was I going to do with all those elderberries? I did not make wine. But I did make elderflower liqueur. I made elderberry jelly with some wild apples I found; delicious on duck. Elderberries are an acquired taste. They are slightly winey, musty and funky. They are also incredibly healthy. You can find elderberry syrup in health food stores, good for immunity and high in vitamin C. That's what gave me the idea of elderberry syrup. I was sending my friend a bottle of this great elderberry syrup made in Vermont that she swears by (she bought it while we were vacationing, and I sent it to her to lighten her load). I thought, gosh, I must be able to make that. So I did.

Elderberry production line.

On the porch, I would pull the berries off the stems into a white bowl so I could see the little stems and pull them out. I used a recipe from my trusty Linda Ziedrich Joy of Jams, Jellies and Other Sweet Preserves (the recipe is called Elderberry Rob). It's basically just elderberries and honey. And of course, you know how good for you honey is. Nice and local, too. I also froze some elderberry juice, should I need to replenish my stock. And, of course, this syrup is great on yogurt or in a glass of champagne, like cassis in a kir royale. Or in a cup of hot water like tea. There was also a recipe for raw elderberry syrup, and I'm sure some may say that cooking it depletes it's store of vitamins but being that I intended it for my two-year old as well, I didn't want to chance it.

Fair warning: they will dye your fingers.

You basically want to juice the elderberries, which you do in a heavy-bottomed pot. One stemmed and washed, put them in a pot and mash them. I chose to add water because mine seemed so un-juicy. Probably due to our very dry and hot summer. Simmer for about fifteen minutes and strain. Because you are making syrup, you can squeeze the jelly bag you strain it in (go ahead, I know you want to do it!) because who cares about the cloudiness? (I saved the pulp and added it to some apple pulp to make some elderberry-applesauce which I then used for fruit bars, but that's me. I can't throw anything out.)

Then take the juice, measure it and add an equal amount of honey. Simmer it until the honey and juice are combined and look syrupy. And that's it. Seal it in a jar, keep it in the fridge. No canning required.

Fave kitchen tool. Potato masher. Or berry masher, depending on the season.

Some other good elderberry posts:

Picking Berries in California, Hunter Angler Gardener Cook
Elderberry Jelly, Simply Recipes
Respect Your Elderberries, David Lebovitz

Just a little something to keep under your hat until summer! It's really not that far away.

DIY Christmas Tree

2010-12-20T21:21:00.004-05:00

So, not that bad for a tree I made myself, right? I haven't bought a Christmas tree in years, mostly because I'm sort of a bah humbug-ish type of person. But the past few years I've been making tree-like structures because it's sort of fun. Last year I turned a tomato cage upside down and wrapped grape vines around it. Like this:

I wrapped blue lights around it and called it a day. It was minimalist, but what doesn't look good in the dark wrapped in blue lights? This summer it was a cucumber trellis, and now, it's back to being a Christmas tree. Except this year, what with my two-year old becoming very quickly savvy to what goes on this time of year, I decided to step it up and throw some greens on it. Like this:

I used green wire to attach the boughs to the cage and vines. I scavenged the evergreens from my property.

The cat found it very intriguing. And who knows what will happen next year. Maybe I'll have a big enough tree to cut down from my property. I do know this: throw some lights and fun ornaments on anything, and you will have a little boy's eyes all aglow. And maybe a cat's, too.

Tonight is a lunar eclipse, along with a full moon and the winter solstice. Peace out!

Vegan Chocolate Cake

2010-12-15T13:41:00.004-05:00

I should call this Ridiculously Easy Vegan Chocolate Cake. That you don't need much on hand to make. No milk? Eggs? Butter? No problem. It's a tasty, moist cake that will not disappoint! Even if you're not vegan. With all the holiday tasks to finish, sometimes you have to take care of yourself. That means that dinner last night was steamed veggies over brown rice. That also means beet carrot ginger juice. But it also means a little cake. And this is a nice way to indulge lightly.

I used a recipe from the Joy of Cooking called Dairy-Free Chocolate Cake, but I've also seen it on the internet in many places and variations.

Oven preheated to 375 degrees. Square 8" pan greased and ready to go.

1 1/2 cups flour

1 cup sugar

1/3 cup of cocoa powder

1 teaspoon of baking soda

1/2 teaspoon of salt

Mix together in a bowl. Add to the dry these mixed wet ingredients:

1 cup of water

1/4 cup of vegetable oil

1 tablespoon of white vinegar

2 teaspoons of vanilla

Bake for 30 minutes. Let cool in the pan for ten minutes, then removed from the pan to cool on a rack.

This cake gets that reddish tinge from the cocoa powder, where red velvet cake possibly originated from. The baking soda and the vinegar react to form this great squishy cake. You need the vinegar to activate the baking soda. You won't taste it!

Egg Nog Smoothie

2010-12-13T20:18:00.005-05:00

I've been thinking about an egg nog smoothie for a few days now. When I googled it I found tons of recipes, not surprisingly, but they all used boughten egg nog. Well, duh! But I was looking for something that didn't want me to go out an buy some gross eggnog. (Just curious, do you prefer to spell it "egg nog" or "eggnog?") I know there's organic, awesome egg nog to buy out there, but you know me, I don't want to buy it, I want to make it. And of course, I'm not talking real egg nog here, I just want a little seasonal smoothie to enjoy with my little boy when he wakes up from his nap.

Now, you want to talk real egg nog? When I was a kid my Dad made the most spectacular, pull-out-all-the-stops egg nog. It was thick and foamy and warming, filled with cream, eggs and brandy, like a good egg nog should. That was the special thing that my dad would make for Christmas. We got a small mug-full, each of us three children, and savored every last bit. (No one was afraid to dole out a little booze to kids back in the seventies.)

So here it 'tis:

Egg Nog Smoothie (doesn't egg nog start to look weird since I wrote it so many times?)

1 cup of full fat yogurt (can people stop eating fat-free yogurt? It's horrible.)

1/4 cup of cream (that's right. More cream.)

1 teaspoon of good vanilla

a hearty sprinkle of nutmeg

1 or 2 tablespoons of sugar, depending on your taste

Put the yogurt in a pint jar. Pour the cream over it. Add the sugar, nutmeg and vanilla. Put a lid on it and shake the heck out of it for about a minute. This is key. Don't do it in a blender. Shaking it causes the fat to whip up, like whipped cream. What you are left with is a soft, very rich, thick deliciousness. Give this to a cranky toddler when they awake from a nap and they will be putty in your hands. Until it's done.

Notes:

You could add a banana, but then it just tastes like a banana smoothie to me, and while that's fine, it's just not an egg nog flavor. Do you put bananas in your egg nog? Right.

You could also add honey, but the honey, in my estimation was too strong a taste. Again, in deference to the nog, I say: no honey.

You could also add some booze or boozey extract. I won't mind. Boozey smoothie? Hmmm. That might be my next post.

P.s. The probability is high that you could win a jar of Christmas Jam! Leave a comment on my post for Christmas Jam. The possibilities are finite!

Jelly Glazed Roll Cookies

2010-12-12T13:13:00.007-05:00

I will admit right off the bat that I'm not a great cookie maker. I am, however, a great cookie admirer and eater. When I was growing up, my mother and I would make cookies: gingerbread men with currants for eyes, roll cookies with colored icing, and Pfeffernüsse. Nothing too overboard. I think maybe a few years we even attempted gingerbread houses. The biggest baking tradition was something I wasn't overly involved in, except for the eating of it, and that was croissants for Christmas morning breakfast. It was probably the only thing that could pull us away from our gifts. Flaky and warm, pull them apart and add more butter, and black cherry Hero jam, which we would always have, our special jam.

For the past fifteen years I have carried my cookie cutters around with me in a slowly deteriorating ziploc bag. I haven't used them much. But now that I have a two-year old who shows interest in baking with me, I've pulled them out from the back of the least used cabinet, high above the fridge, realizing that I had an opportunity to get back into the fun of cookie making for the holidays. I'm not sure if I'll ever be good enough to put together snazzy boxes that some people do, but you've got to start somewhere, right?

I decided to just do some plain roll cookies using those sweet old shapes that I used as a child. I glazed them with quince and apple jelly that had a soft set, and when they dried I sprinkled them with confectioner's sugar. I used a basic roll cookie recipe from The Joy of Cooking.

The only problem? It was hard to get my son to help with making the cookies because all he wanted to do was to eat the dough. I totally understood! I scooted him away until the cookies were done and cooled, and we had a cookie feast at 10 a.m. on this drizzly, cold Sunday morning.

Do you make cookies for the holidays? I'll bet you at least eat them. I'd love to hear what people are making or posting about on cookies. And don't forget to leave a comment on my post for Christmas Jam, for a chance to win a jar of it!

Kate from Hip Girls Guide to Homemaking is also hosting a jam giveaway. You have to come up with a clever name for her marmalade though. This ain't no random generator thang. I'm still trying to think of my entry.

Some inspiring cookie posts I've seen lately:

Mrs. Wheelbarrow's cookie check list. Wow!

The Project Girl's cute little boxes for cookies. I don't think I can make anything that cute.

Shae from Hitchhiking to Heaven's great jam cookie round up. Comprehensive!

Rumballs and Soft Caramels from Rebecca at RCakewalk.

Advanced cookie exchange reading from Ashley at Small Measure, who wrote this last year for Design*Sponge.

And just for fun, here's a recipe for Croissants from Three Clever Sisters, who always seem to have something awesome in the oven. Maybe one day I'll try this!

Christmas Jam - The Final Tigress Can Jam of 2010

2010-12-09T20:50:00.009-05:00

For the finale of the Tigress' Can Jam 2010, I decided I needed to jam. No, not to jelly, but to jam. And no, I did not jam econo. I jammed hardcore deluxe. I made a Ferber-inspired Christmas Jam loaded with dried fruits, Tigress' pick for December. I've been eyeing this recipe for a while. Something about so many dried fruits sounded so rich and luxurious, I'm glad I finally had a reason to do it. And of course, it's the holidays, so it's perfect.

But first I have to address this: Oh My Goodness! The end of the Can Jam! I remember way back in November of last year, peeking in Tigress' site and noticing the announcement, and I sent a shy little e-mail, piping up that I'd like to join, please! And twelve months later I feel like I've been part of something big, and met so many wonderful people, and learned so many amazing things. Well, gosh, all I've got to say is that I'm awfully thankful. To all of my fellow jammers, but most of all to Tigress, for bringing this vibrant community together. What fun it's been!!

Because it's been such a special time, I'd love to send one of these jars out into the universe. Please leave me a comment about your favorite holiday treat, and next week I will pick a winner. You have until Wednesday, December 15 by 12 midnight, EST. Make sure you leave me your e-mail address or where you can be reached!! If I can't contact the winner in three days, I'll draw a new number. Many thanks for participating, following along, or just showing up now for the Tigress' Can Jam!

So, now that we have discussed that: back to the jam. This is what it's all about. I riffed, as usual, and did my own thing for this jam. The recipe I poached from is truly stunning, and the book is well worth it just for inspiration. It contained dried pear slices soaked in quince juice, and nuts, too. I left those out. What I put in was super tart tangerine juice and zest, and as mentioned before, a big assortment of dried fruit. It came out very soft and syrupy, which is I think is keeping in the Ferber style. I think I could have took it a few degrees higher, but I didn't want to err on the side of a too hard gel. There's too much in here that spreading would ruin. This is a jam that wants to drape on top of things.

Next time, I might add some vanilla and rum, to add a warmer bottom line. The tangerine juice kept it light, and mixed nicely with the floral notes of the quince. This could be off the hook with a baked brie, or on top of vanilla ice cream. Or on a nice pork loin. Or potato pancakes. Hmmm...

Christmas Jam

adapted from Christine Ferber's Christmas Jam

3 pounds of quinces (should yield about 2 to 2.5 cups of quince juice)

Quarter the quinces, removing the blossom end. Put in a pot, add water to just cover and bring to a boil. Simmer for about an hour. Let it sit for about an hour. Sieve and collect juice in a bowl. (Use the rest for membrillo, or a fruit butter. Or simply put it all through a food mill, add some sugar and spices to taste. Like applesauce, but so special!)

Put the juice in your jamming pot, and add:

2 cups of sugar

juice of two tangerines (about a 1/2 cup)

zest of one tangerine (do this before you juice!)

juice and zest of 1/2 lemon

1/2 cup of julienned dried apricots

1/4 cup sultana raisins

1/4 cup dried currants (which aren't really currants, you know that, right?)

1/3 cup of chopped prunes

1/2 cup of chopped dried figs

1/4 cup of candied ginger, chopped finely

pinch of ground cinnamon, nutmeg

one cardamom pod, opened, seeds only

tiniest bit of star anise (tiny!)

(Note on the spices: I questioned using so little, but in the end, I recommend it. The flavoring is subtle, and lets the fruit shine. But, don't let me stop you, if you beg to differ.)

Mix to combine and bring to a boil. Boil for about 10 to twenty minutes. I use a thermometer for guidance, but don't rely on it. I pulled this at 216 degrees. It was doing the double drip, and it was incredibly viscous. I'm not sure if it would have jelled much more firmly. But, in the end, I'd rather have a softer set than a firmer one, in the case of this lovely, packed full of goodies, jam.

Ladle into hot half-pint jars. Process for ten minutes. Joyeux Nöel!

Our new cat is on the windowsill in the background. She tried to pull this jam off the table it's on. She wanted to eat it! Needless to say, she's in the right house.

Quince Candy

2010-12-03T14:21:00.006-05:00

I've been quincing out lately, because the case I bought is starting to show signs of age. There are brown blooms on a few of them, so I've decided to begin the quince onslaught and preserve my way through the rest of them. And really, it's a delight to do so. I'm past the preserving craze, well into the winter phase, so I welcome the return to slaving over a hot pot every day.

This quince candy was worth every minute I spent on it. Though it took a few hours to make, it was just to stir it every so often and check up on it. The most work was the peeling and coring. Quinces are hard! And doing this is a chore. And you really want to make sure you do a good job, because if you leave in some core bits they will turn into little piece of gravel once cooked. So be warned.

When folks refer to quince candy they usually mean the cooked paste of the pulp, like membrillo, that has sat and dried. Once dried, you can cut it up and roll it in sugar. It was a traditional Dutch treat that was enjoyed here in the Hudson Valley by the settlers back in the 1700s. It's also a traditional treat all over the world. I made it last year, along with these other jellies. I have a thing for jelly, as you may have noticed. But this candy is a little different, somewhat similar to the quince in red wine and honey that I made a few weeks ago.

The quince is peeled, cored and cut into small, squarish chunks. Then it is simmered in a syrup of sugar and water until all the water has cooked away and the quince chunks have soaked up all the sugar, become soft and chewy, and taken on their trademark rosy hue. I could eat about ten or so pieces of this in a sitting. The texture is just perfectly chewy. The outside gets slightly tough and yields to inner softness once a molar presses it just so. They are very sweet and really are candy, not preserves. They could stay in the fridge a long time, if you could resist them. I would recommend this as a sumptuous addition to a holiday cheese plate. Or as a dessert, served in a bowl alongside some almonds.

Quince Candy

adapted from Candied Quince, by Elizabeth LaBau

3 large quince, peeled, cored, cut into small, squarish chunks

2 cups of water

1 teaspoon of lemon juice

1 1/2 cups of sugar

1/2 vanilla bean

a few whole cloves

Put everything in a large, heavy bottomed pot. Bring to a boil, then simmer on low heat with the lid off, for about two hours. You want this to be a slow process, to ensure that nice color, and so the quince have the proper time to get soft and soak in the sugar. Keep an eye on it, stir it every so often, and make sure it doesn't boil to high or stop simmering. When it's done, let it cool. Store in the fridge in a glass container.

Mine took 2 1/2 hours, but that's because I had the lid on for the first hour. It's better if it's off. Now I know.