Last Shipment

Handmade Bowl, 2009

Just a quick shopkeeping note:  I'll be taking a short break.  The last shipment (just for a little while) for my Etsy shop orders (payment received) will be made this Saturday morning.  Any orders placed (payment received) between 9:00 am PST on December 12 and December 28 will be shipped on December 29.  If something in the Chez Danisse Shop is on your wish list and you'd like it shipped before December 29, scoot over there quickly.  Thank you.

My salute to the satsuma.

The glorious satsuma.
I love it here, I love it there, I really love it everywhere.

I like them seen way down below.

I like one resting in a bowl.

Or with some pals in a Nijiya Market still life.

They are so sweet,

they are so nice.

Sometimes safely tucked inside a nook.

 
Or resting quietly, with a book.

The peel drops from the flesh,
and there's never a seed.

Eat one today and happy you'll be.

in want of.

Sunday Morning - December 6, 2009

emptiness,
a space.
fenced,
without a gate.
built,
for protection.
a place,
to fill.
or just to keep open,
silent, and still.

I sleep all day and fish all night

Photograph by Indulis Ozers (Dad), 2009

As we drove away from the lake the words kept running through my mind, and it is there they remain.

I sleep all day and fish all night

Wisdom on the lake. Proof that it can be found in the most unlikely places. The key is being open to it. The art of observation.

The sun broke through the morning chill and warmed my skin. The air, still. The water, like glass. I was kayaking with my father when we saw him. A man standing alone at the end of a long pier. As we moved closer we noticed he was holding a fishing pole.

Any luck? my father asked casually.

The man answered so eagerly with his fully formed fish stories, I almost believed he'd been anticipating our arrival. He told tales of giant catfish and bass that he'd struggled to reel in, admired, and then returned to the lake. He stood tall as he told us I threw 'em back. They were too big to eat.

He was not a frivolous man. This was serious business. He respected his sport, the lake, the fish, and himself. He told us he was retired. They don't let ya camp overnight here, so I sleep all day and fish all night.

His best catch, a catfish he estimated at 20 lbs, was caught by moonlight at about 2:00 am.

Amazing...I thought. Amazing.

His life was fully functional and uniquely his own. He seemed a gentle, proud, and happy man.

There's more than one path to the Promised Land (or Lake)...

I admired his simple life, his focused goals, and his humble demeanor.

He made me think about my lifestyle, my goals, my demeanor. Were they uniquely my own? Did I need to refine things a bit, clear some clutter, polish up my list of priorities so I could see them--clean and clear? Most importantly, could I be completely open as I walk through this world?

Who knows how many options I've never even considered? I guess I'll never know the answer to that question, but I do know my opportunities are endless.

I sleep all day and and fish all night

While you are in the neighborhood...

pinch pot, 2009 (1 of 3 (update, now 1 of 2) currently available in my etsy shop)

Have you ever felt overwhelmed by the wide variety of items available on Etsy? It happens. There is a lot of good stuff going on over there.

Fear not. The wise folks at Etsy have created a solution.

I'm fairly new to Etsy, but thanks to Tracy over at New Dominion Blues Studios I just learned that Etsy creates gift guides.

Wait...it gets better. Tracy and I were both featured in Etsy's Gift Guide for the Home Chef. They chose one of my little pinch pots. It's a lovely selection and I'm honored to have been included.

update--good news and bad news: 

It seems when my featured bowl sold I was replaced in the guide by another Etsy seller.  I'm glad the bowl sold so quickly, but it would have been fun to stay in the guide a little longer.

It is that gift giving time of year... Forget the malls, they haven't been fun since Fast Times at Ridgemont High.

Pop on over and take a look at all of the wonderful handmade and vintage items available on Etsy. Wander through the array of Etsy Gift Guides and stop by and visit my shop while you are in the neighborhood. I've just added 3 new "ruffle bowls".

Have fun!

Now I unravel.

To begin again.
To devour monotony.

Back then I struggled--
needy, clumsy,
distracted.

Longing to be dependent.

He, in the hospital.
She, the instructor.

Stiff with worry.
The world draped heavily over my shoulders.

Resting in the repetition.

No variation,
ever.

Rotten Apples

My Corner, 2008

Them.

I wanted to smash them,
like rotten apples.

WACK--
with a mallet.

Because I,
I was a ripe tangerine,
with a bright orange peel.

Unblemished.
Sweet.
Pure.

And they,
they reminded me of
mushy and mealy things.

Old.
Like GOD.
They were all knowing.

It must have been wonderful
to embody such wisdom.

Like Maman,
Louise’s giant spider.

But I didn’t care.

I doubted them,
and like a nasty little crab,

I backed quietly
into my corner.

It Was a Very Good Year

Outside the Morning Glory Cottage, November 2009

Looking back... It was a very good year.

Cotton Candy & Thundercloud

Cotton Candy, 2009

Thundercloud, 2009

A couple new shop items... That's all. Enjoy your evening.

Unfinished

Unfinished, 2009

Truth be told, I've been feeling a little sorry for myself this morning.

It seems so much is unfinished and I'm craving completion. I have so many projects that are in-the-works.

For instance, I finished the scarf above yesterday evening. Well, I thought I'd finished it. It's not finished. You see, I have this trait. I like doing things my own way and that often includes not following instructions and reinventing the wheel. This rebelliousness takes time, but it makes me happy, or so I thought.

It all began quite some time ago, it's been so long I'm not really sure how long, exactly. Chris really wanted a striped scarf and I decided I'd attempt it without seeking any true knitting advice. I could figure this out on my own. Right? Sort of.

First, I knit three stripes (very thin yarn, very slim needles) the same length, but they weren't. Maybe it was the shift in yarn, some cotton and some a blend. So I unraveled, bound off again, and blocked. All set, but not. I looked up some means of attaching knit pieces and didn't really feel a bond with any of them, so I created my own method. I stitched my stripes together and somewhere along the line they became uneven again.

Anyway...the story goes on like this for a while. I saw it as a learning experience. I felt myself expanding (in a good way).

Yesterday, just before midnight, I proudly completed (but not) the scarf. Chris tried it on this morning and it's not right. It's too short. I might add a large block of a solid color to the end (pale green? orange?), sort of Mondrianesque.

It just might end up being really cool (please), but I thought it was complete...sigh.

I was sad and it wasn't just the scarf. You see, there is construction in front of AND beside my apartment and it is extraordinarily loud, seriously, it's so loud. My local library is closed for renovation. Chris is working so many hours. ...and I'm really sick of having cigarette smoke blown in my face on the street!

So, needless to say, I was really going down, down in a depressed poet sort of way. Then I saw some nice light filtering in through my bay window (I love good light) and I found this gentleman's sweet blog and his link to this dancing that looks like so much fun.

I smiled.

As I watched the video clip I started dancing a little bit, with myself, on my couch, in the sun.

Then I finished this post.

Life isn't so bad.

Christopher

Christopher in Waitsfield, Vermont
Summer 2006

Curious and warm.
Growing uninhibitedly,
as a seed emerges from the earth.
Smiling at the sun.

On Perfectly Buttered Toast and other things

book, window, and wine glass of water, 2009

I've been away. I've taken a solo trip to the country to regroup, refuel, recharge, and all other such res. An early birthday gift to myself (along with A Platter of Figs and other recipes by David Tanis). No telephone, no computer, no one, but me.

written earlier...
It's about 9 o'clock in the morning. I'm looking out the large paned window which takes up most of the east wall of my petite one-room cottage. The sky is white and the sun is shining. I see a small dark bird with a white belly perched upon the old white fence that protects the sheep while they graze. Although it is November, the grass is bright green and wet with dew. The West Marin landscape drinks in the rain after a long dry summer and makes autumn look like spring.

I'm nestled in with a generous slice of sweet sticky morning bun coffee cake from Bovine Bakery. When I entered the bakery, just about 15 minutes ago, I was convinced my drive into town had been a waste of time. I saw just about everything but my favorite coffee cake inside the glass case, my heart sunk. I wasn't feeling hopeful at all when I hesitantly asked ...any chance you have any morning bun coffee cake back there? The owner replied with It's just come out of the oven. We're about to slice it. -- music to my ears.

This slice is so large it requires a sturdy fork and knife. As I savor my first bite, sip my tea, and read David's seemingly effortless guidelines for preparing Lobster Risotto I have to pause for a moment, a long moment, and take in the utter beauty of it all. Nothing going on here is expensive or at all difficult to arrange, yet it's exquisite. It's worth planning this sort of solo time, what I've been calling my retreat. It is this uninterrupted time alone that offers me the time and space to reflect on my life and appreciate others. Which brings me back to yesterday, my first morning alone.

It was a quiet day. I watched a little black sheep nibble on grasses beneath the apple trees. KWMR hummed in the background. As I wrapped yarn around my needles to and fro, knit, purl, knit, purl, I heard Reading to John announced. Reading to John is a radio show. Neshama Franklin read to her husband John for many years before he died and now she reads to her radio audience. Such a beautiful idea, yet also so sad. An experience once shared with a loved one is now read into a microphone from The Creamery Building in downtown Point Reyes Station. Where it goes nobody knows.

I love the indulgence of having a book read to me or having someone serve me a simple meal. Why do these things feel so indulgent? Perhaps it is because I'm an adult and such offerings are typically reserved for children. John was lucky. I'm lucky.

No one can prepare perfectly buttered slices of toast like my mother. I have bitten into many fine slices of buttered toast, but Mom's, it has some indescribable quality that cannot be duplicated. I believe this is the type of feeling we all long to conjure up again, those good ol' days when we were fragile and small, served nice slices of toast, and loved unconditionally.

Chris has prepared elaborate meals for me and surprised me with interesting new ingredients, but it's those little things (those things along the lines of buttered toast) that really make me happy. There's nothing that makes me love a man more than his placing a cutting board decorated with apple and cheese slices in front of me while I'm reading a nice book on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Oh, yes. That's what I'm talking about.

Reading a book to me works well too. I recall lounging in a little cottage on Block Island, watching the sun set, as Chris read from Michael Ondaatje's Divisadero. I also have some beautiful memories of listening to Chris read John Steinbeck's Travels with Charley to me while we camped in Yosemite. There were moments in the sun, sprawled out on mats beside our tent, late nights inside our tent when Chris read with a headlamp, and one day that is so clear in my memory, Chris reading as we both relaxed and dangled our feet from a bridge near Glen Aulin Falls. The light was so beautiful that day.

Why were these moments so special? Is it because I'm in love, because Chris is such a great guy, or is it because these moments take me back to the comfortable feeling of being a child--fine toast, bedtime stories...

It was a warm summer night. Our exhausted voices pleading One more story, Mom! Just one more! One more! Please... Mom looking down at us, dressed in our cotton nighties and tucked beneath our cool sheets as she, tired from a day filled with two rambunctious little girls, gives in and says Okay... Once upon a time there was a butterfly. The butterfly flew away. The end.

morning bun coffee cake, 2009

My plum (scarf), it's done!

My new plum scarf. Completed November 3, 2009.

I have been putting this poor scarf on hold for what seems an eternity. First it was tabled so I could knit a hat for Chris (my first circular needle project). I used an interesting blue and grey yarn he selected from Art Fibers. The hat ended up being several sizes too large, but that's beside the point. It was still a fine hat, albeit rather large. Then I put my scarf on hold again to knit little Hadley a sweet peanut-sized cotton scarf. I used another lovely Art Fibers yarn, it looked like the sky on a near-clear day. Next, I knit a scarf for Mom. I used a beautiful cream-colored Be Sweet yarn that I bought during a "yarn tasting" at Bluebird Yarn in Sausalito. There was also the scarf I knit for myself with large needles and a wonderful Japanese yarn I found at Greenwich Yarn. The needles were very big, so I could knit it quickly and get back to my delicate little plum scarf, but then I started a striped scarf for Chris... Finally, I put the striped scarf on hold to work on my very own plum scarf.

Today I completed my plum scarf. I am so pleased! It is made from a gorgeous 76% silk 19% superkid mohair 5% wool yarn I selected from Art Fibers before they left their San Francisco location. It's beautiful and it feels fantastic.

But why is the sun shining so brightly and why is the forecast showing a high of 78 degrees in San Francisco today? Sigh...

Like a Lullabye

Tulips, 2006

It was a dark day
so much cold
so little light.

It shifted so quickly.

Like a butcher
wrapping
a piece of my soul
neatly
in plain white paper

and departing
with it cradled
like a football
close to the chest.

Leaving me
incomplete
as if I’d never been finished.
But I had--
I’d been finished
and even rebuilt.

I didn’t want to go
but they arrived
in the midst of my darkness
and brought a ball of bright.
So warm
so nice

and they carried me away
softly
quietly.

Like a lullabye.

I prefer men to cauliflowers.

Lounging Cauliflower, 2009

Like Ms Woolf, I too prefer men to cauliflowers, but when it's roasted cauliflowers we are discussing, well, the competition stiffens. I've been meaning to roast cauliflower for quite some time now. Yesterday, I decided it was an activity that could no longer be delayed.

The Tuesday Market didn't have any cauliflower, but Farm Fresh to You, inside the Ferry Building, had two choices: 1) A nice traditional white head of cauliflower wrapped in plastic 2) An uninhibited green head, no plastic jacket. I chose the green. There's just something I find off-putting about plastic-wrapped produce. This distaste for plastic-wrapped produce is one of the main reasons I haven't visited Trader Joe's in a while. The Tuesday Market did supply me with an inspirational bunch of young leeks. With cauliflower and leeks in hand, and a few other items I knew I had in my kitchen, I decided to construct a pizza.

Roasted Cauliflower, Caramelized Leek, and Crispy Pancetta Pizza
(serves 2)

• 1/2 recipe of this pizza dough, or enough for a rectangular pizza the size of a small cookie sheet (Store the other half in the refrigerator for your next pizza.)
  
• One small head of cauliflower (Any color will do.) sliced lengthwise into 3/4 inch slices
• 3 thin slices of pancetta, diced
• 1/2 head roasted garlic
• 4 small leeks, sliced thin and slowly caramelized in generous amount of olive oil
• A very small amount of cheese (I used a few curls pulled with a vegetable peeler from a block of Marin Cheese sharp white cheddar. No one ever uses cheddar on pizza and I wanted to give it a go. Chris agreed.)
• Olive oil (Keep bottle on counter, you'll need it.)
• Salt & Pepper (I happened to have Fleur de Sel and freshly ground black pepper.)

Roast a head of garlic if you don't have one on hand, actually, roast two and save one for later.

Read your dough recipe and allow yourself some leisurely time to prepare. It's quite simple, but it takes a while.

You can pre-cook the rest of the ingredients ahead of time or wait until your last dough rising cycle and begin then.

Rub both sides of your cauliflower slices with olive oil, place on cookie sheet, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast for about 20 minutes, turning once. If you end up with some smallish pieces of cauliflower, wait about 10 minutes to add them to the cookie sheet. This will avoid burning. Your cauliflower should brown a bit on both sides. Set aside and let cool to room temperature.

Saute pancetta in a little olive oil until lightly crisped. Don't overcook because it will crisp up a bit more on the pizza. Move pancetta from pan to a small bowl or plate. Do not drain on paper. Do not wash pan.

Add a bit more olive oil to your saute pan (the same one you used for the pancetta) and add sliced leeks. Slowly caramelize your leeks and let them cool to room temperature in pan.

Preheat oven to 500 degrees.

Break up roasted cauliflower and add to leeks in pan. Toss leeks and cauliflower and add additional salt and pepper to taste (remember...pancetta is salty).

Press dough into cookie sheet, out to the edges of the pan.

Smear cloves of soft roasted garlic onto the dough with your hands--a bit here, a bit there.

Evenly sprinkle leek and cauliflower mixture on top of garlic.

Scatter pancetta on top of leeks and cauliflower (don't wash the bowl).

Pull a few curls of cheese and place on top.

Dip your fingers into the pancetta bowl and rub on all of the exposed crust showing around the edges of the toppings.

Bake for about 10 minutes or until crust begins to turn light brown. If the toppings start looking too brown before the crust turns brown, cover them with a sheet of foil.

Remove from oven, cool for a few minutes, and EAT!

Use the other half of your dough later in the week for a roasted red pepper, feta, and chicken Italian sausage pizza. That's what I'll be doing...

Yes, this takes a little time, but it's fun, and remember--don't let your priorities get in the way of your priorities.

Things I Learned Later

From Barbara Jean's Collection, 2009

the lost
description
of a nectarine
yes,
a smooth skinned peach

his dancing
on Halloween
with her
before Lisa was born

fainting
at the sight
of his sister’s
first needle
before she was my godmother, before she left us,

and the bridge
to the lighthouse
he could not cross

Everything old is new again.

Late October, 2009

This new light, it makes everything feel so different.

Pimp My Blog

preserve, 2009

blog·o·sphere / ˈblägəˌsfi(ə)r/ • n. the world of weblogs.

If you are here, you are probably a member, at least in some small way, of this club we call the blogosphere.

How is it working out for you?

I have had my ups and downs, but I think I might finally be adjusting to this new method of communication and idea sharing. My largest problem is a good one. It's you. Access to this international forum is enabling me to find too many thought provoking individuals sharing their ideas and images in blog format. I'm referring to those of you who post on your own blog and those of you who don't write your own blog, but participate by sharing your thoughts and ideas in comments sections.

I'm currently managing this forum via Google Reader and have recently implemented computer-free Saturday. As this forum of intriguing individuals grows I'm sure we will all be seeking new ways to adjust to the volume. I know that I don't want to spend so much time reading about the lives of others that the life I live begins to shrink. I want to focus on my priorities and preserve what is most important in my life. For me, spending hours per day in front of any magic screen hinders this pursuit. As beautiful as this blogosphere may be, it also has its beast of burden qualities (...thinking Oh, what about breakfast? at 11 o'clock).

I just read some interesting statistics, a sneak preview of Technorati's State of the Blogosphere 2009 report. For instance, 2/3 of professional bloggers are male. Really? This surprised me. Professional bloggers are a well-educated bunch, 75% have college degrees and 40% have graduate degrees. 72% of the 2900 surveyed blog for hobby/fun and don't make money. Optimistically, 63% say they have become more involved with what they are passionate about as a result of blogging and only a tiny 6% say relationships with family or friends are suffering.

Of course, Twitter was also mentioned. 73% of bloggers surveyed use Twitter versus 14% of the general population. I'm sure you've heard or read that microblogging services such as Twitter are replacing traditional blogging. This might be true for a few, but this article claims that statistically, it just isn't so. They say the #1 reason bloggers are on Twitter is to promote their blogs, or "to pimp their blogs" as one audience member comically stated. I still haven't really wrapped my arms around Twitter and I'm not entirely sure how it fits into my life. Am I just using it to pimp my blog? Maybe.
So...I have a few questions pertaining to how you are managing the world of weblogs.

What technology are you using?
How are you managing your time?
Do you feel you are able to comfortably participate in the blogosphere and preserve what is most important in your life?

For myself, for me.

Seattle, WA - October 2009

Contracted
and expanded,
full
with nothing at all.

Is there still
a glimmer,
no matter how small?

A light floating fragment,
a ghost of the old you.

A tiny
yellow leaf.

Should I capture it?

That one last
piece, all that remains.

And keep it,
for myself.

Should I take it?

And press it,
hot with an iron,

between two sheets of wax.

So I can hold it,
preciously in my palm.

And cry.

For me,
just selfishly for me.

Pinch Pots

A few new items in the shop. These little guys + one bottle vase.

Suit

photograph by Indulis Ozers (Dad)

I once dated a bartender.
We met when I tried to play football.
He drove a jeep, called me a suit,
and bought me white chocolate chapstick
from the Gap.
He'd needed a clean shirt for work
and believed laundry to be a waste of time.
I knew it was all temporary.
I never even met his roommate, the actuary.
He wanted to be a cop,
like my dad,
and he was still in love with his ex-girlfriend.
She didn't bother with manicures.
He introduced me to
Everlong
and Aurora.

Good Poem Hunting

My best friend's breakfast. September, 2009

Do you have a favorite poem?

Whenever I'm asked this question I think of a very early work of Sylvia Plath's, Jilted. It reminds me of so many of the thoughts I had during my adolescent years. Looking back, those thoughts seem sweet and cute, but back then it was all very serious.

Would you share your favorite poem with me (just post it in the comments section)?

Side note:
Here's wishing you find the perfect light, and when you do, that you happen to be with someone who will pause, put down his fork and knife, and be patient while you work.

But is it work? No, not really.

Enjoy your day.

This is not my Chicago.

On my way home after visiting with my Aunt Barb,
shot from the train, somewhere near La Grange, IL.
Autumn 2009

...but maybe it's better. Oh, I'm just not sure.

There is often a struggle between my adventurous side and my sentimental side. For instance, the new Millennium Park is great, but I miss the original Petrillo Band Shell and the old Grant Park of my childhood. I'm sure most would disagree, Millennium Park is a big hit, but my Chicago past holds a very special place in my heart and the old run down Grant Park is part of that past.

That being said, my trip "back home" did not include one Chicago-style hot dog. There was not a poppy seed bun in sight. Those delicious Italian beef sandwiches, the type they used to sell in the shop below my grandmother's apartment, the tasty treat I used to earn by peeling potatoes for the owner's french fries. Nope. I didn't eat one. Chris took our new friend from London to Pizzeria Uno for a deep dish pie, but me, I was not along for that ride.

These were the Chicago standards I grew up adoring, but during this trip I focused in on some new favorites.

The Publican. It's a great place. If you visit Chicago, go. If you live in Chicago, why am I telling you about this place? Although I was incredibly fond of the pig paintings on the walls, I loved their housemade pickles, the pork rinds were out of this world, and the beer selection was spectacular--it was the suckling pig, yes, that Fairbury, IL pig from Slagel Family Farm that truly won my heart. When we quickly perused the menu and ordered suckling pig as one of our many shared dishes, we'd imagined a large and somewhat messy platter piled high with rough chopped pork. This was not the case. I don't know where I came up with this idea, I've never eaten suckling pig. When it arrived, well, we all frowned a bit. That's it? It was a tastefully arranged dish (broccoli, delicate little grapes, and almonds--plated upon a small serving of creamy grits) , quite beautiful really, but we'd anticipated that messy overflowing platter... We were sitting in this enormous beer hall filled with long communal tables, pork rinds as big as your head, and grand pig portraits decorating the place. We were thinking BIG. Long story short, the suckling pig was exquisite and my favorite dish of the trip. Order it.

Next on my list is the best almond croissant I have ever tasted. It was made at Vanille Patisserie, a small unassuming storefront off of Clybourn Avenue, just north of Webster. Vanille seems to be more about wedding cakes, chocolates, and beautiful little cakes and tarts. The croissants appeared to be second class citizens, but don't be fooled. This croissant was perfectly crisp on the outside and had I've-died-and-gone-to-heaven layers of pastry and almond goodness on the inside. It was fabulous. Try the chocolates and cakes if you like, but please, indulge in at least one of these almond croissants.

Last, I will talk briefly about Intelligentsia. I'm a little uncomfortable with this one (the sentimental thing again...). I'm confused. Intelligentsia has been around. It was there, on Broadway, when I left Chicago in 2000. It had been there for about 5 years. I really liked the place. Back then, it was just a place, not a brand. They made great coffee. I loved to camp out at a table with a book and sip my cappuccino. It was quiet. It was cozy. Honestly, no one besides the loyal locals seemed to really care that it existed. I never knew anyone outside of the neighborhood who had even heard of the place. Now Intelligentsia is a brand. They have a detailed website and a definite look. They've opened locations in Silver Lake and Venice (CA), New York, and the guy at the counter told us they'd recently purchased a struggling brand in San Francisco. When I rode the train to the suburbs to see my Aunt, they were selling Intelligentsia coffee inside the tiny train station--they are everywhere. They look good, the coffee is still great, the owners will surely retire happier, but I miss that unpretentious and independent little coffee place on Broadway.

Before we departed, after all of the food and drink, we visited my favorite place to find peace in Chicago. My beautiful escape. A place I've gone to find solace more times than I can count. A seemingly never ending body of water that touches Illinois, Indiana, Wisconsin, and Michigan. Probably the first body of water I ever observed, the same one I watched as I rode in the little bike seat on the front of my father's bike when he used to take me along with him on his lakefront bike rides. Just past the Lincoln Park Zoo (my first zoo, the only FREE zoo I've ever visited, the place my parents took me when I was a tot), right where Fullerton hits Lake Michigan. Beside Theater on the Lake. One of the best spots in Chicago. It hasn't really changed at all. When I arrive, I'm still overwhelmed with peace and have to smile. This spot, thankfully, is still my Chicago.

Lake Michigan at sunset.

Autumn 2009

My new shop is open.

Handmade Dish, 2009

There is a link, right over there, yes, right there, in the right margin.

It's a very small and unobtrusive shop at this point, so go ahead and do a little window shopping, at minimum, it won't take long. Better yet, buy yourself something nice. You deserve it.

Chez Danisse Shop

But is it a poem?

The Noftsger Hill Inn, 2009

Let this keep you company during the next two Sundays.

Never Look Down

Somewhere on the silk, between the spider and the web. Taken away, up high, on a slow moving gondola, suspended, with only a slight provocation of thought. Drifting down a shallow cool river, feet first, looking straight up at the partly cloudy sky, moss tickling the backs of your thighs. The irresistible urge to touch a cholla, just to see if it will really jump, takes you over, and you watch the tiny droplets of blood pool up on your finger. There is no pain. All else moves past you at an incomprehensible pace, the day pressed down a bit and smeared with a thumb. Just left of center a viewfinder floats and you move as close to it as you can and look inside, your right eye opened wide and your left eye tightly squinting shut. There you are, on the bus. You back up, a little light headed and inhale a tennis ball shaped gulp of air, tiny stars appearing and disappearing in front of you. Swallow your disbelief. Continue slowly on the silk tightrope and enter through the center of the web. Don’t pause to think. Don’t look down. Never look down. Move swiftly, surely, and don’t doubt yourself. Not too fast. I’ll wait for you. We knew each other a long time ago, but not so far back. I’m afraid you don’t remember.

Keep walking. The bench, carved from a log, is not your size, your feet dangle. You look out across the large dry meadow, some sort of grain or grass, straw-colored because of the drought. There is one small tree, bright green leaves. How? You are small and beneath it, on a long pier, kicking the water in the tiny lake with your toes. Now you know. Don’t try to explain.

I'm building a book.

Dorothy Dale and Her Chums by Margaret Penrose
Copyright, 1909

I found this book at a sale that took place a few years ago at the Joslin Memorial Library in Waitsfield, Vermont. Attached was a note that read This book was just returned to us. It was purchased in 1911. This gem from 1909 was not only fun to read, it is a beautiful object.

I love books. My attraction to the written word began very early in my life. I recall my parents finding a book on cursive writing at a school book sale and bringing it home to me. I diligently sat at our kitchen table and taught myself how to write in cursive the year before the rest of the children in my grade learned the skill. I was pleased as punch. I did it all by myself, with a book as my guide. It might have been the first time I realized the power of books.

I don't know where my life would be without the stacks and stacks of wonderful and even not-so-wonderful books I've read throughout the years. So many memories, so many lessons learned, so many peaceful hours spent reading.

One of my latest projects is building a book. And yes, that includes physically building the book. In the end, I might find that locating a professional printer makes the most sense, but first I'd like to work through the steps of building at least one humble book, from beginning to end, on my own.

I'm currently in the brainstorming and research stage. I have all sorts of ideas whirling around in my head and I'll try and articulate some of them and share them with you as I move through my process.

Like the tortoise, I'll be plodding along, slowly but surely. Please be patient.

The Lady from the Kitchen Shop

September 2005

So changed,
yet so familiar, so close to the same.

Her stride, a bit slower.
Her eyes, slightly glazed.

What was silk is now sagging cotton.
The glimmer has gone dim.

But I still remember,
way back when,
how she'd make him nervous,
when she winked at him.

Their space, it gave her life.
It brightened her eyes.

When they left, she just smiled,
and waved goodbye.

A Tub of Mud

Just before sunrise in Calistoga, CA
September 15, 2009

From the moment we turned onto historic Lincoln Avenue (Calistoga's Main Street), I knew we were going to have a wonderful trip. Surprisingly, it turned out to be our last day, September 15, 2009, the day I woke before sunrise that was the best day of all.

Combine Lincoln Avenue's charm of yesteryear with Indian Springs and its simple white cottages, croquet, and shuffle board courts and you will soon feel transported back in time. This is precisely what happened to us.

After being lost in the past for a couple of days, we left our room and strolled along the palm tree lined drive toward the large white California mission style spa building. We scheduled mud baths and 1/2 massages and then walked across the drive to lounge in the giant geyser-fed Mineral Pool and enjoy the view of the surrounding mountains. The Mineral Pool is kept at a temperature of about 90 degrees and is one of the best parts of the resort.

The reason the place feels so nostalgic is because it's been around close to forever and has quite a history. The original spa, mud baths, and water plunge (now the Olympic-size Mineral Pool) were built on the property in 1861. Also noteworthy, Leland Stanford purchased the resort in 1880 with the intent of locating Stanford University on the property (he obviously changed his mind).

So let's get to the good part, the tub of mud. I was originally a bit skeptical about immersing myself in mud. Chris was intrigued enough for both of us. This is often our story. I'm lucky to have him around, gently nudging me into the great unknown.

We begin our experience in the spa lobby. After a very short wait, my name is called. I wave goodbye to Chris, and I, along with another guest whose name has been called, follow a pleasant attendant back to a quiet white room. She hands us our locker keys and explains next steps while my eyes wander over to the beautiful bowl of fresh orange slices, the lemon & cucumber water, and a wooden crate filled with bright white hand towels tightly rolled and arranged perfectly. I undress and wrap myself in a green & white seersucker robe (love the robe!) and slip into my spa sandals. I eat a juicy orange slice, rinse the sweet stickiness off of my hands, dry them on one of the neatly rolled towels, and relax for a bit on a cushioned bench. I lean back against the wall and exhale with a quiet and comfortable sigh. It is a peaceful place.

Soon a new attendant greets me and the woman from the lobby (it seems the spa has guests travel in twos) and guides us to the mud room. The mud room is all-business. Concrete tubs filled with shiny black mud (volcanic ash mixed with mineral water), exposed pipes, industrial faucets. The room is functional and solid as a rock. We are asked to get wet beneath a shower head and are then given directions to enter our tubs by yet another attendant sit down on the edge of the tub, place your left hand... Soon I am suspended in mud. It's amazing, really. I don't sink at all. I float on top. The attendant pushes mud onto all parts of my body that weren't covered during my entry and asks if I'd like mud on my face. I say I don't know, do I want mud on my face? She says Oh, yes. It is very good for your skin. It will make you beautiful. So of course I say yes. I'm told I'll be resting in my mud for 12-15 minutes.

My body heats up and my mind drifts into a dreamlike state. I keep looking above my tub at the three dimensional representation of some sort of goddess-like figure, just a head. A woman with long flowing brown hair decorated with apples, or perhaps peaches. She looks down at me. I can not wait to ask who she is. I'm starting to feel a little lightheaded when an attendant begins stirring the mud in the tub beside my tub with a giant pitchfork (or was I really lightheaded?). I wiggle my fingers and toes and begin looking out the open window high above me, palm fronds blowing in the breeze, trying to cool myself down. I squish the mud between my fingers and try to think of words that accurately describe the texture. Dark chocolate pot de creme mixed with finely ground almonds. It was hot... I start getting that heartbeat feeling throughout my body, you know, when it feels like your entire body is a beating heart. Luckily the attendant returns and asks if I'd like to stay for a few more minutes or get out. I look over at my Swedish traveling companion (I later learned she was Swedish) and she doesn't look like a beating heart. She looks completely content, the picture of serenity. Grudgingly I say Yes, I'm ready and the attendant carefully removes my top layer of mud and helps me out of the tub. I rest on the edge and she asks if I'm okay, several times. I say I'm okay, but I actually feel a little woozy. She sees through me and we wait a bit before she helps me rinse off beneath a cool shower.

Next, a new attendant and another white room. This room has two claw foot tubs (white) filled to the brim with lukewarm mineral water. Each tub has a tray with a cup of drinking water & straw and an orange stick for removing any residual mud from beneath our nails. I later learned that the men had pumice stones, but no straws in their cups. I was a bit jealous about the pumice stone, but a straw is very helpful when reclining in a tub. I drink a lot of water during this stage, probably 4-5 cups of water. I keep drinking and my attendant keeps returning at the perfect moment to refill my cup. It is nice. No ladies with apples in their hair in this room, but it is peaceful and I cool down.

Once I am nice and cool it is time for a steam. I am handed a towel to sit upon and a cool washcloth for my face. I heat up again in the lavender and eucalyptus scented steam room and then it is time to cool down, again. I see a pattern emerging. I exit the steam room and am told to lift my arms. I am wrapped in a layer of cool soft flannel and taken down a hall to a small quiet room, shown where my seersucker robe is hanging in the corner, and told to lie down and rest on what is best described as a simple daybed. The attendant places a cold cucumber slice over each of my eyes and covers the cucumbers with a cool washcloth. Soft music plays, a gentle breeze blows, and I doze off.

I awaken to a kind massage therapist removing my cucumbers and telling me she'll meet me in the hall. She points to my robe (perhaps she thinks I'm so sleepy I'll wander into the hall nude). I follow her through what seems to be a maze of white and then outside to a small hut near the coveted Buddha Pond.

After a 30 minute massage I am told I can do whatever I want to do, go back inside, visit the Buddha Pond, return to the Mineral Pool. I decide on the pond and find that Chris has made the same choice. We sit side by side, drink fancy water, and watch the dragon flies dart about above the pond.

It was a complete experience. I glide through the rest of my day, but I never learn about the lady with the apples in her hair.

Thank you Christina & Charlie!

The most beautiful laundromat I've ever seen. Calistoga, CA
September 15, 2009

tossed salad and boiled eggs

Green Gulch Farm salad greens in my favorite wooden salad bowl

It is Sunday morning. I've woken without an alarm. I've posted my poem. I have a few eggs boiling on the stove. We will soon be eating those eggs with a green salad and slices of toast topped with homemade jam. Green Gulch Farm adds lovely little flowers to their salad greens mix, and for me, it makes all the difference. It is a good day. I'm happy. That's all...

And He Was

blue blazers
and
gold buttons
you did not fall in line

curiosity
and
intuition
were the pool from which you drunk

you have
never
remained still
on the murky pond bottom

but have
always
rushed to the top
gasped for air

clean
wet
new

and on you have gone...

December 2007

Launch into the deep,

gazing beyond

photograph by Christopher Parsons, 2000

Today I found an old file filled with various items I had saved from a basic bookmaking and letterpress course (circa 2003).

One of those items was a large sheet printed with an excerpt from a book I was reading at the time. Our group had selected the excerpt for one of our letterpress assignments.

I am as moved by these words today as I was back then, one fine day in August of 2003. I hope you can find a moment in your day to sit back and spend some time with them.

The world's spiritual geniuses seem to discover universally that the mind's muddy river, this ceaseless flow of trivia and trash, cannot be dammed, and that trying to dam it is a waste of effort that might lead to madness. Instead you must allow the muddy river to flow unheeded in the dim channels of consciousness; you raise your sights; you look along it, mildly, acknowledging its presence without interest and gazing beyond it into the realm of the real where subjects and objects act and rest purely, without utterance. "Launch into the deep," says Jacques Ellul, "and you shall see."

excerpt from Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard

The Corner

Green & Jones

There he was,
pushing the stroller
of a crying child.

He wore such hatred,
a thick knit wool hatred
that made them both
wince and itch.

It was not fleeting,
based upon struggle,
or minor feud.

It began that way,
a starched and pinched pleat
that would never soften.

Father and child,
on their march to God knows where.

I could not look away,
and then
they turned the corner.

playing along

Playing along with Abby...

Touch
A cool clay mug

Taste
A bowl of Malt-O-Meal

Smell
Lavender

Sight
Looking through Lumie again

Sound
Norah Jones + traffic

If you decide to play along, leave a link to your post in the comments section.

orangette

one little orangette at sunset

The orangette is a beautiful thing. This past weekend I made a platter of them and most people agreed.

There are, of course, those with an aversion to oranges--Ahem J.

It is a fairly intense treat. Although one slowly savored orangette per evening is enough for me, most people did not agree. I watched several individuals quietly return to the orangette platter again and again, each one of them slipping a fresh orangette (or two, or three) into their mouth during every visit.

I was happy to see the candies disappear, pleased the guests were enjoying what I'd prepared for them. Suddenly it occurred to me that I hadn't photographed even one of these lovely little confections and the sun was quickly sinking. I'm a big fan of natural light, so I grabbed my camera, snatched one orangette from the platter, placed it on a teensy dish, and headed outside.

It had been a beautiful day and I knew that each time I looked back at this image I'd be able to return to this place and time. No pressure. I worked quickly, the sun vanishing, as one of my friends cheered me on yes, yes, I like the blue! I did the best I could. It was done.

I loved that I was able to indulge in the bitter sweetness of this particular orangette and save it forever.

I searched for orangette and candied orange peel recipes and found quite an array. I loosely followed this one. If you'd like to prepare a platter of your own, you'll need the following:

• 4 large oranges
• 3 cups of sugar for the syrup (This is what I used and our guests seemed quite pleased, but I found the orangettes to be very sweet, perhaps too sweet. I think I might take the amount of sugar as low as 1 cup next time and see what happens. I'm the type that cuts way back on sugar in preserves and cakes too.)
• 1 additional cup of sugar for coating the orange peels
• 8 ounces of extra dark chocolate--70% cacao
  
• lots of water
• sharp knife
• cutting board
• large stock pot
• medium heavy-bottomed sauce pan
• baking rack
• cookie sheet
• wax paper
• airtight container

Cut off the top and bottom of each orange (the North and South Poles). Cut just far enough into the orange to reveal the flesh.

Score the peel to create 6 sections (longitude lines) and ease your fingers beneath the first section of the peel, beginning at the top (North Pole) and gently working your way to the bottom (South Pole). Continue with the additional 5 sections of peel. Repeat with remaining 3 oranges. Save the peeled oranges and eat them later (or now).

Slice all of the peels lengthwise into 1/4 inch strips and toss them into a large stock pot. Cover with water and bring to a boil. As soon as the water boils, drain off all water and repeat process 2 more times.

Pour 1 cup water into a medium sauce pan and add 3 cups sugar. Bring to a boil and then lower to a simmer. Once the sugar has dissolved, add the orange peels and simmer for 3o minutes or until translucent, stirring occasionally. (Don't abandon your peels at this point...you've worked too hard.)

Set a baking rack inside a cookie sheet and remove all peels from the pan with a slotted spoon and arrange on rack so they are not touching. Save the remaining syrup in a Mason jar and refrigerate for later use. (I added a little bit to a glass of sparking water and it was nice).

Once the peels have cooled down and dried a bit you can toss them in a bowl of sugar. (I coated all of my peels, but I might try 1/2 without sugar coating next time.) I saved the remaining sugar too.

Place all sugared peels back on the rack and let dry completely, about 5-6 hours. Once dry you can dip in tempered chocolate. I used Method 1, sans thermometer, and it flopped. Perhaps I need to find my candy thermometer...I know I have one somewhere. Dip each orangette 1/2 way into tempered (or simply melted in my case) chocolate and shake off excess. Place dipped orangettes on a wax paper lined cookie sheet and let the chocolate set in refrigerator. Store set orangettes in an airtight container or serve and watch them vanish.

Since my tempering was unsuccessful, the chocolate on my orangettes began to get a little soft after only a short while on the platter. Oh well... No one seemed to mind.

#33 -- check!

a small white moth

he said he learned by watching me,
but i hadn't meant to teach

i stretched to fill our spaces
sprawling out comfortably
long conversations with myself

and the sky,
it would not be ignored

he became a blur
and i smiled with tears in my eyes

as my wondering when he'd return faded
a small white moth nestled
into the rug beside my foot

it was fearless and stood its ground

i knew it would eat my sweaters,
but i could not kill it

pot party

a few of my pot bottoms

I've been learning to work with clay. Lorna Newlin has been my guide.

We are celebrating her studio's seventh birthday this weekend. Stop by, have a glass of wine, and see what Lorna has been up to for the past seven years. I'll have a few of my pots for sale too.

Dates: August 29-30, 2009

Time: Student Art Show & Open Studio: 11:00 AM - 5:00 PM
Studio Anniversary Party Sat. August 29, 5:00 - 8:00 PM

Place: Sausalito Pottery, 610 Coloma St. #690, Sausalito CA 94965

Directions: From Bridgeway turn west (uphill) on Coloma, turn right into MLK School parking area after playing field. It's the first building - #7, first door.

these are not capers

green peppercorns in one of my little handmade bowls

I'm contemplating green peppercorns.

These are special peppercorns, at least they are special to me. They aren't dried and dried peppercorns are all I've ever known. I had no idea that what appear to be fresh peppercorns packed inside a small slender jar with water, vinegar, and salt (basically...a pickle) were out there in the world waiting for me. Aren't they beautiful? I saw them on the grocer's shelf when I was searching for capers and I knew I had to have them.

Green peppercorns are simply young unripe berries. The fruit is dark red when fully mature. Black berries do not exist in nature, black peppercorns are green unripe berries that have been cooked and dried.

I just popped one in my mouth and it's quite lovely. As the firm little berry rolls around in my mouth, at first there is a mild sour saltiness, somewhat similar to a common caper, but without any hints of bitterness. When I bite into the berry it pops and there it is, the familiar pepper taste, but more bright and fresh. It's easy going for a second, but then boom, it hits me and my tongue tingles, my eyes water a bit, and I cough a week little cough as the spiciness tickles my throat. A brief moment passes and I'm okay again.

The mild burn stays on my tongue for a few minutes and then I eat another one.

berry

Breakfast on Mesa Road, Point Reyes Station, June 2008

berry, oh berry
simple, honest, and sweet

juicy and black
not at all like a beet

you bathe in the sun
and you never burn

you fall from your stem
nothing asked in return

I think I can, I think I can.

#11

I've been working on a list. Inspired by Tiny Abstraction's 31 things to do..., I've created 41 before 42.

It seems my list making is inherited. When I visit my father I find old envelopes scattered throughout his house with lists written on them, clipboards with lists stacked beneath the clips, lists on the refrigerator, lists in the truck, lists on his desks (both of them), and lists on the chalkboard in the kitchen.

One major difference between my father's and my list making habits is that I keep all of my lists in one place, my notebook, so I don't lose any of them. As #20 states, I plan on experimenting with bringing Google docs into the mix. Knowledge Man thinks it's a good idea. He's probably right.

Although my lists live side by side, I am just as prolific as my dad with my list making. I write lists of poems I'd like to read, places I'd like to travel, projects I'd like to tackle, books I'd like to check out from the library, ideas for my novel, ideas for my blog, dreaded housekeeping tasks, groceries I need to purchase, recipes I'd like to try, lists of pros and cons for difficult decisions I'm in the process of making, and everyday to-do lists.

I recently had lunch with a friend I hadn't seen in years and years and, of all things, she asked me if I still wrote lists pinpointing all of my hopes, dreams, and simple to-dos. Yes she recalled you were always making lists, writing everything little thing down. I'm not sure how I feel about not seeing my friend for such an extended period of time and then, when we finally meet again, learning that my list making is one of the core things she remembers about me. Hmmm...

In honor of Julia Child, I won't apologize. I guess it is who I am. I have thoughts. I have ideas. I write them down. No reason to be ashamed.

So like the The Little Engine That Could, I'm optimistically off to continue my journey.

41 before 42

1. Finish striped scarf for Chris
Done, but it turns out it's too short...back to the drawing board. More here.

2. Experiment with Lumie's (my Lumix L1) film mode
Done. This was the day.
3. Make a Wakame Salad (buy Mendocino Wakame--Whole Foods, Bi-Rite, or Rainbow Grocery)
Not done. Bought Wakame at Whole Foods (no, I'm not boycotting). I thought I was buying a California product, but I'm a bit confused about the origin of this seaweed due to the label stating Wild California or Maine. Still need to make salad.
5. Submit Worms for Girls to Reaktion Books Ltd
Not done. Decided not to go the traditional publishing route. Working on a handmade book.
6. Submit Worms for Girls to second literary agent
Not done. Decided not to work with an agent. Plan to sell handmade book (and possibly more) online.
7. Make Molly Wizenberg's Banana Bread with Chocolate and Crystallized Ginger
Done (in the form of muffins) .
8. Make our pottery replacements (bowls, plates, mugs)
Done with the exception of mugs. I love my tiny tree mugs and Chris now has his Chicago flag mug.
9. Donate the bowls, plates, and mugs we replace w/ my pottery to Goodwill
Not done. Donated some, but must finish.
10. Watch a sunrise
Done. Woke up early and watched a sunrise in Calistoga, CA on September 15, 2009.
11. Watch a sunset
Done. Watched a beautiful sunset with Chris (photograph above) at Crissy Field August 14, 2009.
12. Make pottery for Dad (bowl and plate)
Done (for now). Dad doesn't really need a plate or bowl, but wanted something cool that I made, so he'll soon be choosing one of my two special wood-fired bowls to keep as his own.
13. Solo trip (focus on observing, writing, photography)
Done. I wrote a little bit about it here.
14. Solo day/night together trip with Chris
Done, but we were missing each other and spent most of our days AND nights together with just a few solo breaks.
15. Time blocking plan (write, read, pottery, knit, workout, home, plan, walk, meet, etc.)
Done, but thinking time blocking is over-rated...
16. Type After the Sour Lemon Moon poems on typewriter (presentation? float in frames?)
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it.
17. Start blue scarf with big needles
Done.
18. Finish plum scarf with little needles
Done. Here it is!
19. Try stitching (embroidery) one of the After the Sour Lemon Moon poems (decide on a proper stitch, like the Blue Bottle sign, & use linen)
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it.
20. Sort writing, projects, ideas (life) in Google docs.
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it.
21. Incorporate computer-free time into schedule (Sundays? A certain time period each day?)
Done--all day each Saturday (highly recommend!). A little bit about this topic here.
22. Inventory closet and compile a donation for Goodwill
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Really should hop to it!
23. Try Maldon Salt
Done.
24. Make Paneer
Done. Made paneer (Julie Sahni's recipe...she shares some paneer making tips at the bottom of the recipe) to replace the tofu in Jen's Okra recipe August 19, 2009.
25. Make a spoon rest
Done.
26. Make a taller (work) mug for Chris
Not done. He bought a Chicago flag mug instead.
27. Make a shorter utensil holder -- use current as model
Not done. Chris loves current model and does not want to replace.
28. Make yarn bowls
Done. Made 4 yarn bowls. Here's three (also apple bowls or whatever-suits-your-fancy bowls).
29. Make large shallow bowl w/ Be Sweet Knobby Ball swirl for texture
Done.
30. Pickle ginger
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it. I want to find baby ginger and haven't begun my search.
31. Complete Worms for Girls text w/ index + cover image (stamp?)
Not done. Need to prioritize!
32. Sausalito poem + prose submission to literary magazine
Not done. Just not sure I still want to do this...
33. Make candied orange peel
Done. Made orangettes (candied orange peel dipped in chocolate) August 28, 2009
34. Make crystallized ginger
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Not feeling bad about it. Bought some great crystallized ginger at The Candy Store.
35. Anniversary in Calistoga, CA
Done. Returned home on September 16, 2009 after a great trip to Calistoga, CA
36. Read Michael Ondaatje's The English Patient & Anil's Ghost
Done.
37. Type all Quiet-Riter notes and writing from notebooks into Google docs.
Not done. Just haven't made it a priority...focused on other things. Feeling bad about it.
38. Begin 15 minutes of silence per day
Done. Began 15 minutes of silence per day (ferry ride to Sausalito). September 3, 2009. I did well for a while, but then fell off the wagon. I need to jump back on.
39. Find two Moroccan tea glasses
Not done. I looked for a while and couldn't find what I liked. I totally forgot about this. Maybe I'll find them today! If not, I'm in no hurry. I'll wait for the glasses I love.
40. Read Per Petterson's To Siberia & In the Wake
Done with In the Wake. Haven't read To Siberia.
41. Show Chris my list
Done. Showed Chris my list August 16, 2009.

Ice cream, in oatmeal?

Steel Cut Oats, Red Apricots, Vanilla Bean Ice Cream, and Freshly Ground Nutmeg

Yes, ice cream in oatmeal!

The following is excerpted from the comments section of a post about ice cream on david lebovitz living the sweet life in Paris.

By chez danisse on August 14, 2009 3:47 PM

Ice cream in oatmeal? My father used to top our Cream of Wheat with vanilla ice cream and until now I'd never heard anyone reference anything even close. You are the first. We loved it--rich cool sweet cream melting over breakfast...yum. I'm sure your version, caramelized white chocolate ice cream stirred into oatmeal, is superb!

By David on August 15, 2009 4:06 AM

chez danisse: Ice cream, in oatmeal? Even I'm not that crazy : )

I put a big spoonful of the caramelized white chocolate itself in the oatmeal, let it melt a bit, then stir it around slightly. (Not too much, such I like ribbons of it.)

By chez danisse on August 15, 2009 11:57 AM

Oops...looks like I was reading too quickly and seeing what I wanted to see versus what was actually written. That being said, I am crazy enough to try ice cream in oatmeal and plan on giving it a go. It was so good in Cream of Wheat. I'm sure it will be tasty. Maybe you should get a little crazy and try it too ; )

we knew each other

Photo by Christopher Parsons

she seemed so familiar, too familiar
too much like me

but then

something shattered
was it her
or the mirror

one can never tell
from so far behind
or at all, really

a tiny fissure, it began so innocently
barely noticeable
nothing a little foundation couldn't hide

it grew slowly
at first
an invisible hand
dragging a pencil, or a knife

across
a page, or a face

a fault line

the same one that
i
and they
were built upon

we knew each other
even those of us
whose eyes had never met

like them, i'd walk along the tightrope
as i prayed
for tension

and against the tremor
and the crumble
and the crack

that would split
it, or me
wide open

Julie & Julia Bruschetta

Bruschetta? Who cares!

I am certain that I am not the first person to try and recreate the indulgent drenched in olive oil and fried version of bruschetta prepared by Amy Adams in Julie & Julia. As I watched Julie and her husband devouring those crisp slices of bread covered in olive oil, heirloom tomatoes, and basil...well...I knew a week would not pass before I gave it a go in my own kitchen.

Forget one week, I didn't even let two days pass. I was first enticed by a couple of beautifully ripe orange heirloom tomatoes at The Real Food Co. and snatched them up. Yesterday I added to my collection with some juicy and full flavored Early Girl tomatoes from the farmers market. I also found a huge bunch of basil from a Bolinas farmer with a stand I hadn't seen before, I believe it was La Tercera, but I'm not completely sure because I was too focused on the basil. The type of basil she sold was unfamiliar to me, thin stems topped by nice poofy globes of tiny basil leaves, loads of them. The nice man at the Acme Bread Co. counter suggested a Long Italian loaf of bread and it was an excellent choice, perfect for this recipe, perfect. I already had garlic, Fleur de Sel, and my pepper mill was full. I deviated just a smidge from what I saw in the movie by adding one small ripe fig to the mix. A fig might seem a little out of place here, but I've never heard of fried bruschetta either, so I figured, why not?

I began prepping my ingredients about an hour before I planned to eat. Step one was cutting up my tomatoes into traditional bruschetta sized chunks. To my bowl of super ripe and juicy tomatoes I added the little leaves from several basil stems and stirred it around gently with my hand. I topped the tomato basil mixture with one very soft and ripe fig cut into small pieces. Don't add any salt at this point because it will make the tomatoes release their juices and if you've selected ripe tomatoes they'll be juicy enough. Wait and add the salt at the last moment, right before you eat your bruschetta. I then placed a piece of saran over the bowl and walked to the library to return a book.

When I returned from my library walk, after thinking about my bruschetta feast the entire time I was away, I anxiously moved forward. I poured some (I wasn't shy) olive oil into a heavy bottom pan and began to warm the oil over a medium heat. I placed several slices (about 3/4" thick and sliced on an angle) of bread into the pan of warm oil and brushed the top side of the bread with the oil in the pan that was pooling up around the slices. Once I'd covered the top side of the bread with oil I moved the slices around in the pan so the bottom side could absorb more oil. I wanted this bruschetta to look as crazy good as the bruschetta in the movie. Just forget that it is not the bruschetta you know and love and move on. Fat, calories, and Italian tradition were not on my list of priorities.

Once the bread was lightly browned on the bottom side I turned it over and continued heating the bread until it was lightly browned on the other side. The bread should have that overall crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside look.

I removed one slice of bread from the pan at a time and thoroughly rubbed each slice with a 1/2 clove of garlic. Next I spooned mounds of the tomato, basil, and fig mixture on top of the garlicky bread and sprinkled it all with a bit of Fleur de Sel and freshly ground pepper.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that this meal was absolutely delicious! Yes, the bruschetta alone was my meal. It was all I needed. It will be all you need. I haven't swooned over my food like this in quite a while. I was the only one home and I'll admit to moaning out loud with each and every bite.

We are right in the middle of tomato season and the timing could not be better for a dish such as this that revolves around fresh sun ripened tomatoes. I strongly recommend giving this non-traditional and utterly indulgent version of bruschetta a try. You will not be disappointed.

* I performed an encore at about 10:30 pm, when Chris made it home from a long day at work. He happily devoured a full plate of this goodness and thanked me with a nice kiss (and a couple of bites of his bruschetta).

Choose your dinner companion carefully, this dish begs to be followed by nice kisses.

place and space

image from one of Liivian Talossa's 2009 posts

I have been admiring the work of Liivian Talossa for quite some time now. The text on her blog was not in a language I recognized, yet her photographs were so beautiful I never felt the need to understand the text. I just returned again and again to see the beautiful imagery she captured.

I've been thinking a lot about place and space lately, the way the space we inhabit influences us in a way that is often difficult to describe. Are these images so mesmerizing to me because of Ms. Talossa's relation to the equator? Is it the culture in which she was raised? Perhaps it is just her way of seeing, inexplicable, and something unique to her and only her. I may never know and that is okay.

My curiosity did prompt me to do a little research this morning and it appears Liivian Talossa is Finnish, but I have no desire to investigate further. I'll leave it at that.

I'm inquisitive by nature and I did have to dip my toe into the research pool to learn a bit about Ms. Talossa, but only ever so slightly. I'm sure her place in this world has something to do with her work, but more importantly, I don't require this information to enjoy her work.

I've been inspired to be a little less curious, let some things sink in for a while before asking questions. These thoughts took root during a visit to one of my favorite spots in San Francisco, SFMOMA's 2nd floor education area, a wonderful space. They have a mini library and furniture to lounge upon and learn about many of the artists in their collection.

While perusing one of these artist books I read an interview with Katharina Fritsch where she referenced her comfort with the unknown and how some things can't be or simply don't have to be explained immediately.

I agree and I believe it was being in this special library space that allowed me to do so.

the oars

the weight
of the oars

and my pace
yielded a perfect pain

behind my neck
across my back
and straight through to my chest

it was clean
and honest
then slow

my eyelids reached down
heavy
and longed to rest upon the waves

the sway of the boat
and the sound of the little licks
beneath and beside me
felt as if they'd never go

the oars slipped from my hands
and i slipped somewhere too
slowly
and then not so much

until it was all
tucked
inside a velvet pouch
for later

"...the most insanely awesome woman you've never heard of."

Time to dust off your wings, we are going to visit someone new.

Who? Erin over at Reading My Tea Leaves. Visit Erin to learn more about a woman BUST Magazine describes as "...the most insanely awesome woman you’ve never heard of."

Off you go!

Lunch @ Wexler's

Photo: Kevin Bond via Google images

Miracles do happen. Today is July 13th, technically summer, and... it actually feels like summer here in San Francisco. This does not occur often. I am filled with joy! This is cause for celebration.

On this perfect summer day, I was lucky enough to be treated to the most perfect summer lunch. We met at a new restaurant, Wexler's, located on Sacramento Street, between Montgomery and Sansome. Wexler's is a beautiful little restaurant with simple cream-colored walls and red chandeliers. A custom-made wood canopy invites you inside and then ripples above you through the entire restaurant.

The decor was cozy, and the rippling canopy interesting, but it was the food that truly caught my attention. I ordered the the trio below, starting with the cucumber soup and ordering the squid salad as my entree.

I enjoyed having my cucumber soup assembled on the table right in front of me. It was beautiful. Three petite dollops of the smoky ricotta and thin ribbons of bell pepper confit were brought out in a large shallow bowl, a perfect match for the cool and clean taste of the smooth-as-silk cucumber soup poured into the bowl from a small cast iron teapot. The server poured while I smiled and observed as the soup flowed slowly from the teapot spout, filling in the space surrounding the tiny ricotta and pepper islands.

My salad was impeccably balanced. Lightly dressed frisee, little squares of delicately fried green tomatoes, sweet supremed orange slices, tender squid, and the heat of a few thin rings of bright red pickled chilies (I adored the chilies!).

We shared the banana cream pie. A drizzle of Dulce de Leche topped with a slice of creamy pie and a few caramelized banana slices arranged neatly beside the pie--all sprinkled with just a hint of Fleur de Sel.

The combination of colors, temperatures, tastes, and textures in all three of my selections created a beautiful and delicious summer lunch. I couldn't have been happier.

Chilled Heirloom Cucumber Soup - $8
Smoked Ricotta, Bell Pepper Confit

Monterey Bay Squid Salad - $9
Fried Green Tomatoes, Pickled Fresno Chiles, Orange

Bourbon Banana Cream Pie - $6
Dulce de Leche, Fleur de Sel

Malt-O-Meal Makeover

my breakfast -- July 10, 2009

I had a wisdom tooth pulled in May and one of the things that comforted me post-surgery was a box of Malt-O-Meal. The box has been neglected since then, but today it called to me.

I prepared one serving of Malt-O-Meal as directed by box instructions (one exception, I used a whisk--it works much better than a spoon). Next I scooped a heaping tablespoon of crunchy peanut butter, my favorite type, the type that is labeled ingredients: peanuts, into my bowl. I poured the hot Malt-O-Meal over the peanut butter. I topped the Malt-O-Meal and peanut butter with a generous sprinkling of sweetened coconut flakes, a drizzle of sesame oil, and finished it off with some SRIRACHA HOT CHILI SAUCE (rooster sauce).

I dipped buttered toast (Acme's Upstairs Bread) into this fabulous dish and it was mmm mmm good.

Small confession: Another post-wisdom tooth extraction comfort was instant mashed potatoes with blue cheese crumbles. I was weak...

perception

I burned the onions,

but he didn't seem to mind.

He ate them all,
every last bit.

Puttering About in a Small Kitchen

Chinese, Japanese, and Italian eggplant

my notes...

Earlier this week I went a little food crazy.

Chris was working late one night when I decided to tackle the lemon-blueberry yogurt cake recipe from Smitten Kitchen that I had stumbled upon during my blueberry recipe search. There were some perfect blueberries lounging in my kitchen that needed to be put to good use. I'd happily eaten many straight from the bowl, but was in the mood to bake something with the rest. I proceeded to dirty a few bowls, measuring cups & spoons, and a bread pan. I changed very little in the recipe. I subsituted whole wheat flour for 1/3 of the white flour and added the lemon juice and powdered sugar glaze mentioned in her list of other ideas for the cake.

Of course, baking a cake wasn't enough. I felt some sort of magnetic pull toward using each and every bowl, pan, and utensil in my kitchen. I didn't fight it. It reminded of the night my mom and I decided to bake an apple pie. The mood did not strike until midnight. We decided to just go with it and headed out the door toward a nearby 24-hour grocery store. We were sleepy and silly, yet muddled through the recipe and were happily enjoying our homemade pie a few hours later. It's one of my favorite memories.

There were leftovers I could have eaten. It could have been an easy and low key night, but instead I felt inspired to remain in the kitchen and make something with the eggplant stash I'd purchased earlier in the day. Chris and I had been perusing the stands at the Tuesday market following an exceptional lunch at Boulette's Larder--they do everything right and this day had been no exception. We turned a corner and found ourselves standing in front of a table piled high with eggplant of all sorts, Japanese, Chinese, and Italian. I was studying the different shapes and sizes and trying to decide which type I preferred when Chris suggested Why don't you buy all three. Cook them all and see which you like best. I said Oh yes yes, The Eggplant Challenge. Good idea! I bought one of each.

At this point I'd prepared the batter, but the cake still needed to bake for 50 minutes. My eggplant challenge would have to wait. I only have one oven in this small kitchen you know... Luckily, I'm almost opposed to kitchen gadgets and appliances, so the small size of my kitchen isn't much of an issue (although I wouldn't mind a south facing window in front of my sink...). I'm a back-to-basics type when it comes to the kitchen and see most gadgets and appliances as superfluous. I just need a few good pans, a sharp knife, and a cutting board.

So, while the cake baked, I decided to prep the ingredients I'd need for my challenge and the ingredients for a pasta dish I was concocting in my head. The pasta dish had been inspired by an eggplant based recipe I'd seen on The Wednesday Chef the prior week. My version ended up a little different from Luisa's and Melissa's, but the core of the original recipe remained fairly intact. I switched to whole wheat pasta (Eduardo's whole wheat penne), went back to Melissa's lamb versus beef (for some reason I was in such a lamb mood this week...3 meals w/ lamb!), added some grape tomatoes, used three types of eggplant versus one, substituted cilantro for mint, and swapped out yogurt and melted butter for Parmigiano-Reggiano that I grated on top (sometimes I'm so predictable).

The cake was set to cool and I was finally able to cook the eggplant. I diced each eggplant into cubes of about 1/2-3/4", tossed them in olive oil, garlic (just a little), and salt before spreading each variety onto its own pan and placing those pans inside a 500 degree oven. The eggplant cooked quickly, in about 15 minutes. I let it cool slightly and then grabbed my notepad and pen and began tasting and taking notes.

The Japanese eggplant was soft and creamy, it almost melted in my mouth. This sounds nice, but frankly I enjoyed the other two more firmly textured varieties over the melt-in-your-mouth variety. It was a little sour. The skin was slightly bitter and the thickest of the three, but it did crisp up a bit and that was nice. I was surprised because I'd anticipated that the Japanese eggplant would be my favorite. It ranked 3rd (aka - last).

The Italian eggplant had the "eggplant taste" with which I am most familiar. It turns out that most familiar does not equate to best, not by any means. The skin was chewy, but not as thick as the Japanese. The skin did not crisp up at all. The seeds of the Italian eggplant were most prominent. It held its shape during cooking better than the Japanese, but not as well as the Chinese. The taste, especially when compared side-by-side with the Japanese and Chinese varieties, fell very flat. It was quite bland and I'll reiterate that this bland taste appeared after being tossed in olive oil, garlic, and salt. This not a good thing. The Italian eggplant ranked 2nd.

The Chinese eggplant held its shape during cooking. It had the thinnest skin. There weren't any bitter or sour notes noticed during the tasting. The skin was thin and unobtrusive. It absorbed the olive oil, garlic, and salt nicely. This eggplant was firm yet soft on the inside, and lightly crisp on the outside. There was a hint of sweetness in the flesh. The Chinese eggplant was the clear winner.

By the time I'd baked and glazed the cake, performed the eggplant challenge, and prepared my pasta dish, it was quite late and I was almost too sleepy to enjoy my creations, but I didn't mind. It was worth it. It might not be every girl's idea of a good time, but I actually enjoyed my evening of puttering about in the kitchen for hours on end.

Just as I finished my bowl of late-night pasta, Chris walked in the door. We sat down at the kitchen table together and ate slices of sweet cake before collapsing into bed and falling quickly into a deep and restful sleep.

exposure

sometimes

the illumination is so bright
i can't see

definition defaults to flat

bare &
burned to white

yet, it remains

holding all that matters
and all i fear

all i need to see

sometimes the city makes you soft

I've always believed that living in the the city resulted in toughening up and living in the country softened people. Today I'm not so sure.

I started thinking back to one of our Stinson Beach Motel vacations. We spent our mornings rising early enough to jump out of bed and rush to the picnic area near the beach before anyone else would arrive and disturb our favorite gopher (there were probably several gophers, but we liked believing that we saw the same busy gopher every morning). We'd quietly sit on a picnic table with our coffees and try not to giggle too loudly as we watched him scurry about and pop his head up through various holes surrounding the picnic tables. We didn't know what sort of important work was going on underground, but we found it all very entertaining. We weren't worried about the picnic area. We were just visiting for a few days and then returning to San Francisco.

Then some big things changed and we were suddenly starting a kitchen garden behind our new home in Point Reyes. Our happy gopher days were immediately over. We were no longer entertained by gophers. It was hard work keeping them at bay to protect our fruit, veggies, and herbs. Whenever we saw a new telltale mound of dirt or a little gopher head pop up through a hole in the yard we'd growl--grrrrrrrrr.

I could tell a similar story about the deer in West Marin. They were darling and Bambi-like until they started eating my peas and the new heliotrope plant we were told was "deer resistant". I now believe what Mostly Natives Nursery states on their website "There is no such thing as a deer proof plant. Some deer somewhere has eaten everything that we know of including poisonous plants." The deer in Point Reyes are tough. They stare you down. They have no fear.


While cleaning a head of lettuce today I stumbled upon a tiny snail, it was incredibly small, the size of a grain of jasmine rice. I stopped what I was doing and became mesmerized by this miniature creature as it moved slowly along an inner lettuce leaf. Just months ago I was at war with the snails in my yard, buying little anti-snail copper fences and dreaming up new ideas for beer traps. Today, back in San Francisco and without a yard, much further from the lush landscape that surrounded me back then, I find I've warmed up to the snails, at least to this little guy. I carefully removed the leaf, snail and all, from the lettuce head and took it outside. I gently placed the snail, atop it's giant magic carpet of a lettuce leaf, on a steep weed-covered slope behind my apartment and wished it a long and happy life.

This weekend was supposed to be a computer-free weekend, but I cheated. Without my yard and garden I sometimes spend too much time on my laptop. I'm not feeling much remorse because my cheating was rewarded with this beautiful poem found on Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast. Sometimes breaking the rules pays off. I'll follow the rules tomorrow.

Appreciating poetry, forgiving rule breaking, giving a perfectly good lettuce leaf to a snail ...see how soft I am?

A Small Dragon
by Brian Patten

I've found a small dragon in the woodshed.
Think it must have come from deep inside a forest
because it's damp and green and leaves
are still reflecting in its eyes.

I fed it on many things, tried grass,
the roots of stars, hazel-nut and dandelion,
but it stared up at me as if to say, I need
foods you can't provide.

It made a nest among the coal,
not unlike a bird's but larger,
it is out of place here
and is quite silent.

If you believed in it I would come
hurrying to your house to let you share my wonder,
but I want instead to see
if you yourself will pass this way.

Melencolia I, 2009

Understanding Albrecht Dürer this morning...

do you bathe your blinds?

blinds in the tub

I have not yet taken a shower, but my blinds are enjoying a bubble bath. It doesn't seem fair.

The second set is about to be addressed, each and every slat, one by one. There are four sets total. Do other people do this?

If there is a better way to get blinds clean, I have not discovered it. The whole project is quite a hassle, so it does not happen very often. I procrastinate as long as possible, and then, when I cannot stand it, not for another moment, I decide--today is the day. Today is that day.

Here's what I do:
I turn on the hot water, add a little dish washing liquid, and run a few inches of water into the tub. Next I drop the blinds into the hot soapy water and let them soak. After the soaking period, I set my gardener's knee pad on the floor beside the tub to protect my knees and I drape a folded towel over the side of the tub to protect my ribs. I kneel on the pad, lean over the towel-padded side of the tub, and begin running each slat between my thumb and forefinger to remove whatever it is that accumulates on urban blinds. The blinds not only bathe in bubbles, they shower. They have to be showered to remove the soapy residue and this means I end up pretty wet too. I also have to dry them (and myself!) before hanging them back up and moving on to the next set.

It takes some time, but when I finish all four sets, an entire wall of my apartment will be sparkly white. It will feel different in here, better.

Do I sound like a stereotypical 1950s housewife? I think I do...a little bit. Uh oh. Please forgive me, Betty Friedan. I don't enjoy the process, just the result.

pirates, peach pizza, and pickles

how to start a saturday:

#1 wake up naturally, sans alarm--always a good thing!

#2 savor a Caffe Trieste cappuccino

#3 slowly stroll to the ferry building

#4 rest on an old railroad tie and nibble on a Frog Hollow petite pizza (peach, ricotta, and bacon) while watching the Jug Town Pirates do their thing

#5 go home with a mound of sweet Rainier cherries, two stems of lemon verbena (not sure what I'm doing with these yet--any suggestions?), and homemade pickle ingredients (mixed bunch of carrots, Armenian cucumbers, and a big fat beautiful red onion)

spontaneous organic covert...oh my!

If you live in the Bay Area, get your booty over to Kitchenette--pronto!

Dogpatch Lunch: Tuesday 06/09

cornmeal fried cod roll chayote, kumquats, cilantro, jalapeno, garlic mayonnaise, fresh lemon…cabbage slaw $8.50

mt. tam cheese & rhubarb-ginger jam baguette walnut persillade, arugula $6.50

4505’s spicy chicharrones $3.-

hazelnut button cookies $.50

lemon verbena arnold palmer $2.-

We arrived promptly at 11:30am, just as the door was opening. As we walked along a parking area, behind a strip of loading docks, on the backside of an industrial building in the Dogpatch neighborhood, we spotted Kitchenette's sandwich board and witty greeting. Joel from Dependable Letterpress, just around the corner, had clued us in on all necessary details--hours, location, the food is excellent.

The concise menu for the day was posted on a small easel set upon a simple table just inside the loading dock. For such an unexpected location and set-up, they seemed to know exactly what they were doing--they didn't mess around. No fluff. Luckily, the Mt. Tam & rhubarb-ginger goodness on a baguette was not yet available. This made our decision easy, no pondering.

We decided on two cornmeal fried cod rolls along with a few other treats. A line was forming and the customers waiting, many of them well-heeled, looked hungry, so we ordered and got out of the way. We shared a bag of melt-in-your-mouth and perfectly seasoned chicharrones while patiently waiting on a wooden bench beside the loading dock/restaurant, sipping our lemon verbena Arnold Palmers, and enjoying the view--asphalt, abandoned buildings, chain link fence, and some nice dry weeds.

It was well worth it! They didn't waste any time. Kitchenette was all business, everything was very efficient. Our sandwiches were brought out toot-sweet. We opened our brown boxes, adorned with the name of the little covert operation stamped in red ink, to find our warm fresh sandwiches wrapped neatly in paper resting beside a small container of wonderfully light cabbage slaw--all packaging compostable.

Funny thing happened...someone from CBS channel 5 showed up and interviewed us as part of a segment on SF Bay Area "nonstaurants". Now Chris is committed to a guest post on my blog!

I wish I would have grabbed a couple of those Mt. Tam & rhubarb-ginger jam baguettes for dinner tonight. This post is making me hungry. Oh well... Thanks Joel!

4505 aptly label their chicharrones as part of our swine so fine product line.

strawberries for dinner

Strawberries with Buttermilk & Vanilla Sugar

Fill dessert bowl 3/4 full with cold buttermilk
Spoon in 1 - 2 teaspoons vanilla sugar
Stir
Drop halved strawberries into bowl
Eat

what is wild?

Wild? Domesticated? Cultivated? Genetically modified? Vampires? Do any of us really understand our food? Do we want to understand our food? It's a quandary...

Sometimes I grow tired of all of the data and just want to eat what looks good and tastes good, but then I hear Mr. Standage discussing his new book during an interview on NPR and I find myself being pulled back into the tangle of data defining what we eat. I cannot deny that I am, yet again, intrigued. The San Francisco Public Library has my request--I am 13/13 holds.

a weekend of wavelets...

Have you ever looked at the weekend forecast and seen something like:
Wind: from NNE at 12 mph

I typically focus on temperature and sunshine versus clouds, or the possibility of rain. This morning Chris was looking up the weekend forecast and for some unknown reason I asked if it was going to be windy. He told me the forecast read that the wind was being predicted at 12 mph. I told him that I'd never investigated how a 12 mph wind might differ from a 24 mph wind or a 36 mph wind and he told me that he hadn't given it much thought either.

Then he referred to the wizard...

Chris found a website that described wind scales according to the Beaufort Wind Scale. Very interesting indeed. Our 12 mph wind was eloquently defined as follows:
Description: Gentle Breeze
Effects Land / Sea: Leaves and small twigs move, light weight flags extend. Large wavelets, crests start to break, some whitecaps.

Just a few other delightful phrases, before it gets too windy, from the Beaufort Wind Scale:
smoke will rise vertically
water is mirror-like
leaves rustle
can feel wind on your face
small trees sway
telephone wires begin to "whistle"

Enjoy your weekend.

gorgeous little things

unidentified gorgeous little thing--Block Island

My friend, Paul, is currently showing some of his drawings in the gallery space of a Mission District boutique, BellJar. Sasha Wingate, the owner of BellJar, describes her stock as a collection of gorgeous little things.

I've been thinking a lot about those words, gorgeous little things. As enticing as the descriptions grand, big, and spectacular sometimes seem, it's the little things in life that truly move me.

One of my most prized possessions is a gift Paul gave Chris and me a few years ago. He drew a small scale, simple, and peaceful image of a cozy looking pillow with a hardcover book resting upon it. An ideal gift for Chris and me--we love sleeping and we love reading. Every time I look at this sweet little drawing I smile.

gift from Paul

Gorgeous little things...

The yarn bowl I gave my mom for Mother's Day and the beauty of the way most of Be Sweet's 50 gram balls of yarn fit perfectly inside.

yarn bowl

cornichons--such darling little pickles

Miette's Parisian Macaroons, especially the Rose Geranium variety!

Caffe Trieste's caffè con panna

Tiny sprouts of any sort. I planted a pot of basil seeds recently, while visiting my father. Today he left me a voice message:
Hey Nise, Dad. What did you plant in that pot in Globe? There's all kinds of stuff coming up in there. I watered it.
Sweet little green (and red) leaves emerging from the soil make everyone happy...

beets

Moroccan tea glasses--why don't I own any of these?

Recchiuti Fleur de Sel Caramels

The tiny little frog that lived in my Point Reyes backyard. There was a stretch of time when he seemed to magically appear to greet me each time I entered the yard.

frog friend

Stella Pastry's mini biscotti--I miss the old days, when two beautiful sisters owned the bakery, but the biscotti is still good.

The matchstick sized carrots I once found tucked inside the bunch of baby carrots I purchased at the farmers market.

carrots

The cherry blossoms that bloom outside our bay window for Chris's birthday.

Small gestures like the note my niece, Mary, gave me on the train, the postcards my friend, Joen, sends me from near and far, and the phone call from Dr. McDow post-wisdom tooth extraction, not a call from his assistant, but the doc himself.

gift from little Mary

The demitasse spoon a young handsome man in Chicago stole for me after my mention of how much I adored the cute little spoons.

And the poems that say it all in just a few lines...

This Is Just To Say

I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast.

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold.

--William Carlos Williams

plums

alone in the kitchen...

Are you up for a field trip? Visit Jen over at Modern Beet and see what she writes about solo dining. Enjoy!

Phoenix

New and triumphant green emerging on the resilient oregano--bravo!

The ashes (base of the plant) from which the healthy new green is emerging

I was wrong. My oregano is not dead. Like the Phoenix, it has emerged from the wreckage.

I returned from The Valley of the Sun, the Phoenix metropolitan area, yesterday evening. The heat in the Valley is intense. It holds you by the neck and makes great demands. It asks of you things you cannot give, but then you find yourself obeying, unaware of how you conjured up such strength.

Yesterday, as I ascended from the airless belly of the airport, I felt my slow shallow breaths halt as I sucked in my first sweet, full, and clean breath. I'd forgotten the beauty of the cool Bay Area air I'd left behind. I was back, and not just back, but back and better than I'd been before I left.

Today I feel strong, stable, alert, and focused. I've emerged anew.

Can we plan this sort of renewal or does it only work when it happens to us? It is a feeling of control derived from its absence. What does one do with such data?

Perhaps it is experiences such as these that embolden us to take risks, remain patient through struggle, and optimistically look for that light at the end of the tunnel--all the while, hoping to emerge with the strength and power of the Phoenix.

My 12 year old niece, Maizy
She was still in good spirits after waiting...and waiting
...and waiting in sweltering heat to hear Barack Obama
speak. People were passing out in line. It was quite crazy.
She did not complain once.

Me--Globe, AZ
This photo was taken by Chris during one of the two days we escaped
the Valley of the Sun to help my dad work on his project--what was once an
Italian brick oven bakery built during the turn of the century and what
appears to have been a boarding house for miners. Saying it needs a lot
of work is an understatement, but Dad has his vision and chips away,
bit by bit. Globe was about 10 degrees cooler than the Valley, not exactly
an escape, but a bit of relief.

The boys, Dad & Chris, at work in Globe, AZ

The graduate, my little brother, Alex (captured by his mom, Lynda)
He was the reason we visited the Valley of the Sun and the reason we were
able to see our president give an amazing speech during the ASU commencement
ceremony. Alex surrendered 5 of his 6 tickets to his family and we scored
two of those in-demand tickets. Thanks Alex!

safer?

oregano post-Safer brand insect killing soap w/ seaweed extract

Safer brand seems to have successfully killed the aphids and my oregano.

there must be a better way...

Asian pear aka #685

I prefer my produce sticker-free. The problem was that we had eaten up all of the fruit we'd purchased during our last trip to the farmers market and it was only Wednesday. The farmers market is a great place for finding sticker-free fruit, but it's not open every day. The market vendors would not return until Saturday, so I decided to stop at The Real Food Company, a neighborhood market on Fillmore Street in San Francisco, to purchase a few pieces of fruit. The Asian pear I bought was delicious, but those stickers--why do they irk me so? The sticker on my Asian pear, well, it wasn't even one of the colorful little stickers with a logo, fancy font, or cute fruit drawing on it, just a drab number inked on a rectangle in faded black.

It seems I'm not the only one with strong feelings about these little stickers. I took a look around and found many individuals with thoughts on the topic.

Some were annoyed and others were extremely bothered. There were those who were fascinated, some were even inspired. One woman thought Great! Art supplies for my daughter! A 19-year-old got resourceful and found a way to recycle. One gentleman was even willing to die to get rid of the sticky little guys, but this video was probably the most interesting, creative, and definitely the most odd explanation I found for the use of the fruit sticker. In 2005 the New York Times wrote that the fruit tattoo was replacing the fruit sticker and that tattooed fruit was being sold "nationwide". This is strange because it is now 2009 and I have yet to see a tattooed piece of fruit. It seems RediRipe has some ideas too. It goes on and on.

Hmmm...so what have I learned? There is more than one way to view the fruit sticker.

Enjoy your fruit!

urban gardening part III - carrots (originally posted on 4/10/2009)

oops--i accidentally deleted this 4/10/2009 post...just bringing it back.

Friday, April 10, 2009

urban gardening part III - carrots

THEN
Point Reyes Station's Grandi Building as seen from one of the wooden picnic tables in the Point Reyes Community Garden
(one of my favorite writing spots)

I was recently perusing the latest issue of Organic Gardening when I got to the final page of the magazine, that space after all of the advertising, where they usually leave you with one last tidbit, often something fun. On this page Maria Rodale asks What's your garden fantasy? I thought about that for a while.

I do have a garden fantasy.

I indulged in my own homegrown produce for about a year while we rented a house in Point Reyes Station, CA., a sun filled house with free rein to do whatever we pleased in the giant backyard. It was amazing, truly an experience I will never forget. My mom tells me that gardening is now in my bones. I think she's right.

We walked on to a property already possessing a tree w/ three types of apples, a pear tree, three types of plum trees, raspberries, a variety or blackberry vines, and a beautiful lemon tree that I visited almost daily. To that we added so much more that I stopped counting after we realized we were growing 50some varieties of fruits and vegetables in our backyard.

Gardening is addictive, at least it was for us. I was constantly tempted by the beauty of new seedlings and the grand promises and lovely descriptions of what could soon be ours printed on alluring seed packets. We planted in raised beds of all sizes, terracotta pots, random containers donated by our neighbor, and beds that we created by digging into our weed ridden backyard soil - we even built giant bean tepees and began composting with worms.

We were surprisingly successful considering we were complete novices. We had a blast. We harvested pounds and pounds of fresh produce, arugula, shelling peas, scarlet runner beans, ozette potatoes, oca, black russian tomatoes, garlic, lemon cucumbers, green beans, yellow crookneck squash, green beans, sugar snap peas, bok choy, lettuce, scallions, leeks, herbs, and an array of carrots, just to name a few. Unfortunately we left Point Reyes before our parsnips, cauliflower, spinach, spigariello, or radicchio could mature. I hope the new tenants like vegetables!

I loved just about everything we grew, but I had a special fondness for our shelling peas and carrots. Fresh peas and carrots, picked right before eating them, well, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't get much better than that. The peas we grew were labeled Tall Telephone Pole Peas and they were gorgeous. The blossoms were delicate and pretty and the vines, with their swirling tendrils, grew up our back fence and toward the sky like something out of a fairytale. My carrots, St. Valery, New Kuroda, Scarlet Nantes, Purple Haze, and Oxheart (I still might be forgetting a few), were some of the easiest and most forgiving vegetables we grew. They were also delicious and we ate them in salads, pickled, steamed, sauteed, and just plain old scrubbed and out of hand. I never even knew so many varieties of carrots existed.

NOW
our kitchen table as seen from one of our kitchen chairs in our San Francisco apartment
(another one of my favorite writing spots)

It is now spring again, about one year after we began our first garden together. We are living in a small apartment atop Russian Hill in San Francisco, CA. Our outdoor space consists of a few inches of down sloping window sill per window, and some of those windows are painted shut. Nothing makes one long for their garden more than spring. Our local community gardens are jam-packed and we've been told that it could take years before they reach our names on their waiting lists. Here's where the carrots come in (literally).

I bought a large terracotta pot, soaked some New Kuroda (my favorite) carrot seeds overnight, filled my pot with a combination of potting soil and worm castings, and buried my seeds. Then I crossed my fingers and waited. Lo and behold, I didn't count the days, but the seeds seemed to sprout up much faster than the seeds I planted outside in Point Reyes. One night, much sooner than I anticipated, my husband spotted them and showed them to me. I was ecstatic!

When I am home during the time of day when our apartment catches some sun, I move the terracotta pot between my bay window and kitchen window to allow it as much sunlight as possible. The tiny sprouts all lean toward the sun and when I move the pot I rotate it so their backs are to the sun. Sure enough, the next time I take a peek, they've all repositioned themselves and are leaning toward the sun again. They are an indulgent bunch.

So, while here atop Russian Hill, I've adjusted my expectations. My fantasy is a small one. I'd like to see those 9 little sprouts become fully formed delicious carrots. That's all. Is it possible? I really don't know.

Some, my husband for instance, have much loftier ideas when it comes to garden fantasies. He's convinced we can somehow trellis pole peas in our bay window. He wants to bring those fairytale vines and tendrils indoors. I'm not so sure about this plan, but I like his high hopes. Perhaps I'll be reporting on peas next.

The herbs and succulents are also doing well and we've recently added a tillandsia (air plant) to the mix.

the aphids are coming! the aphids are coming!

oregano with tiny aphid on stem

i never used anything to remove insects from plants in our outdoor garden. i let the good and bad insects fight their own battles. obviously, i didn't plan on using anything on my indoor plants, but i'm not really sure what else to do.

bottom line--i don't want to share my apartment with aphids and little flies (i believe they are "whiteflies"). the gravel is not keeping the flies away (my herb gardener was wrong) and i fear they are multiplying, plus i've spotted aphids.

i searched around the web and did some reading and it seems Safer brand insecticidal soap is used by organic gardeners for such situations. i bought some yesterday and am giving it a try, but i'll be honest, it's making me lose my buzz for eating these home grown herbs. the product claims it is safe on fruits an vegetables, but will i be able to completely remove this stuff before i add my freshly snipped herbs to to a recipe?

i'm feeling a bit bummed and defeated. i really want to make this work. sigh.

you don't have to go to paris

This recent Mark Bittman post referencing items such as bread, salami and butter made me chuckle, but you don't have to travel to Paris to experience such unadulterated joy. It seems most people see Paris as they do bacon, in an everything is better with bacon sort of way. I wonder if the recent press Swine Flu is receiving will change this beloved perception of bacon. I hope not.

Is everything better in Paris?

I'm not so sure.

this photograph of Chris makes me chuckle too

Yesterday evening I met Chris at a wine bar (here in San Francisco, at the Ferry Plaza). We each ordered a glass of wine, shared the salumi plate, and had a nice conversation. No butter, but I couldn't have asked for better company. Who needs Paris...

urban gardening part IV - air & water

Tilly

Have you ever seen one of these? This is a Tillandsia, often referred to as an air plant, or Tilly. I added one to my bay window garden a while back and although it requires a bit more maintenance than an herb, succulent, or pot of carrots, caring for it has been an interesting experience and it seems to be enjoying the environment here.

The photograph above shows the plant being watered. There's no use for a watering can when a Tilly needs a drink, and by the way, this drinking is something they need to do very often, which makes the name "air" plant seem odd. Anyway...watering this plant means fully submerging it inside a bowl of water for at least an hour. I'd never heard of such a thing. Their are rumors that you can just mist them every so often with a spray bottle, but that doesn't seem like a good idea to me. Even after a one hour+ soak, the Tilly is pretty dried out before the week is up. The submersion method works for both of us, so why mess with it. I skip the misting.

When we purchased our Tilly from Flora Grubb Gardens it had a big bloom emerging from the center of the plant and watering was a bit complicated because the bloom was not supposed to be submerged with the rest of the plant. Now the bloom is gone and I just place the entire plant in a full bowl of water for about an hour, once per week, shake off any excess water, let it dry completely, and then place it back on its pedestal in the window.

Tillys don't need any soil because water and nutrients are absorbed through their leaves. I suppose this is the explanation for this "air" plant business, but I believe something like "octopus" plant would be much more appropriate.

I don't think this plant really cares what it is called. It's the carefree type. With no soil to hold it down, the Tilly just rests quietly upon its pedestal and sunbathes all day. No hat or sunscreen required. And then there's that weekly dip in the pool... What a life.

a night to remember

my first homegrown strawberry in Point Reyes

It was a hot sunny day in San Francisco and this is not a place where hot sunny days come along often. I was hoping it would be one of those hot sunny days followed by a comfortably warm evening, the type I grew up with in Chicago. An evening without a light jacket is something almost unheard of around here. I really wanted to make the most of this surprise heat wave and prepare a dinner that fit the mood, something simple, beautiful, and light.

I'd been reading a lovely new book written by Molly Wizenberg, the creator of the blog Orangette, and thinking of making her bouchons au thon. I'm not sure if I was truly interested in her recipe or just charmed by her story, but decided that it didn't really matter. I forged ahead.

I rarely follow recipes, but Molly particularly noted that she always did, so I thought I'd try and practice restraint. I was almost 100% successful with the only exception being a substitute of sour cream for the crème fraîche I'd forgotten to purchase during my trip to the market.

The recipe turned out wonderfully and my only complaint is that the bottoms of the bouchons stuck to the well greased cups of my muffin tin. I'm not sure if it was my tin, if I did not use enough oil on the cups, if using butter would have made things less sticky, or if it is simply the nature of the beast. It was so minor I probably shouldn't even be referring to it as a complaint.

When Molly refers to the bouchons as odd and homely, my guess is that she does so lovingly. I think the little puffs are darling. I served the bouchons, two small puffs per person, atop a bed of ancho cress and sliced strawberries.

Ancho cress is a cress I had not yet met, before our Tuesday visit to the farmers market. If you too are unfamiliar with this cress you can see a photo of an ancho cress and scarlet runner bean salad on the Rancho Gordo site. This salad made me miss our beautiful scarlet runner bean and christmas lima bean tepees. They were really fantastic!

bean tepees we built from a type of flax growing on our neighbor's property (thanks Ruth!)

The ancho cress called out to me that day at the market. So did the pencil thin asparagus, Yerena Farms strawberries, and some small pale yellow carrots. It really was a perfect day.

The first bite into a leaf of ancho cress tricks you into thinking it is a tame green, but it is quickly followed by a peppery bite. I tamed the bite by tossing it with a light dressing of olive oil, fresh orange juice, a very small squeeze from the honey bear, and a little s&p. I decorated the top of the cress with sliced strawberries, lemon zest, and some thin shavings of Parmigiano Reggiano.

Petite plates of crisp green decorated with red, creamy white, and tiny flecks of yellow--all topped with golden puffs. A small round table for two in front of a large window on a warm night, the city humming below, and sharing it all with someone you love. A night to remember... Sigh. Smile.

urban gardening part I - succulents UPDATE

Fort Mason succulent
gift from Mary Anne

Well well well...look what I found upon arriving home this evening. It appears this one flowers!

I'm not sure if the flowering is a good or bad thing. I know it's exactly what you don't want your arugula, chard, lettuce, and the like to do, but I'm not so sure about succulents.

It is also shooting up a bit which might mean that it needs more sun. Unfortunately, I am already giving it all of the sun this apartment is set up to allow. Hopefully it will adjust.

For now, I'll just think optimistically and enjoy the view.

urban gardening part III - carrots UPDATE

goodbye cotyledons(s)... hello true leaves!

The carrots are progressing.

Eight sets of true leaves have appeared. I had one original seed (1/9) that did not germinate, so I planted a new seed to fill in the empty space. The newbie has now sprouted!

It is 9:30am and the sun is shining brightly.

So far so good.

you mustn't cook!

making homemade tamales @ Dad's

I just finished reading the short story,
The Cottagette by Charlotte Perkins Gilman
(EDIT>FIND>'The Cottagette' until you see the full text of the story...)

Ms. Perkins Gilman always had such an interesting perspective on the topics she explored in her writing.

I love my time in the kitchen, but after reading this story I can't help but wonder, what would my life be like if I didn't cook?

Hmmm...

excerpt:
We were off in ten minutes, light-footed and happy, and the day was all that could be asked. He brought a perfect lunch, too, and had made it all himself. I confess it tasted better to me than my own cooking; but perhaps that was the climb.

When we were nearly down we stopped by a spring on a broad ledge, and supped, making tea as he liked to do out-of-doors. We saw the round sun setting at one end of a world view, and the round moon rising at the other; calmly shining each on each.

And then he asked me to be his wife.--

We were very happy.

"But there's a condition!" said he all at once, sitting up straight and looking very fierce. "You mustn't cook!"

The Obama's are gardening!

they've planted all sorts of good stuff, shelling peas, fennel, carrots, kale, even hyssop (i had to look that one up!).

check it out here!

take a look at the garden layout and some photos here...

urban gardening part II - herbs

herbs-in-waiting

My herbs are waiting for me to throw some pots for them and track down some gravel to cover the soil. I was told the little flies that hover around potted herbs will go away if I cover the soil in a thin layer of gravel. I've only spotted one of these little flies so far, but I better find some gravel before more decide to come to the party. For now, my herbs will remain topless and in their plastic containers. They have moved from the kitchen table to the bay window and are sunbathing for as many hours per day as possible.

tags:
ROSEMARY 'Barbeque'
So-called because the stems are long and hard, perfect for bbq skewers.
Full sun, low water when established, DEER PROOF.*
*I learned while in Point Reyes that one cannot guarantee that any plant is DEER PROOF.
WINTER SAVORY (Satureja montana)
Shrubby perennial herb used for flavoring, like sage.
Full sun, moderate water. To 1ft. tall, pretty flowers too!
THYME 'Big Leaf'
Vigorous, great tasting thyme to 1' x 1'.
Good in pots. Full sun, reg. water.
OREGANO-ITALIAN MILD
Selection from Franchi Sementi of Italy.
Milder Italian Oregano, very versatile! Perennial, full sun, great in pots.
BASIL (simply labeled 'Live Basil')

I made a mistake in my last post, 4 pots of herbs were bought from one gentleman and 1 pot from another. The basil was the 1 pot from another and it started slumping over and looking unhappy almost immediately (within hours of purchase!). Even the stems started turning brown. I decided to just pull all of the still perky leaves from the plant, made a neat chiffonade, and sprinkled it atop our dinner of pasta with fresh English peas and grated Parmigiano Reggiano. We were not disappointed.

Finally, the last item on the table is a vase of bright yellow Ranunculus (Persian Buttercups).
wikipedia says:
The term sardonic (sardanios), "bitter or scornful laughter", is often cited as deriving from the name of the Sardinian plant Ranunculus sardous, known as either σαρδάνη (sardanē) or σαρδόνιον (sardonion). When eaten, it would cause the eater's face to contort in a look resembling scorn (generally followed by death). It might also be related to σαίρω (sairō) "I grin".
and they look so sweet and innocent...

carrots coming soon!

urban gardening part I - succulents

a gift from joen

a gift from mary anne and an orphan succulent

Wikipedia tells us:
Succulent plants, also known as succulents or fat plants...Succulent plants store water...The storage of water often gives succulent plants a more swollen or fleshy appearance than other plants, also known as
succulence.

We are slowly but surely making our transition back to urban life and as the sun begins to shine again and the spring season comes our way, we are finding that some changes require more effort than others. One such change is transitioning from living with a large outdoor space to our apartment with zero outdoor space, not even a fire escape. We were spoiled with our giant backyard and patio in Point Reyes. We aren't greedy people, not at all, we don't need all of that yard space here in the city, but a tiny little corner...just a little ledge where we could arrange some soil and sprout something green would be nice. For now, this is not an option, we are committed to making our current living situation work. We were determined to find a solution for making our outdoor space transition run a bit more smoothly, one that would make us happy. We didn't give up, we kept thinking.

Envisioning a garden in our bay window required a complete shift in mindset. It's not really outdoor, but the windows are large and they do let a lot of light into the space. I've read about the viability of gardening in city dwellings on small patios and on roof decks, but in a window...hmmm...would it be possible?

So I decided to start with some hardy and friendly looking succulents. While in Point Reyes, we grew our fair share of fruit, vegetables, and a few native wildflowers and such, but we've never owned a succulent. I perused a few books at the library for advice and checked one out to take home with me and help me get started. It's been about a month, and the succulents have been very well behaved and look beautiful. Recently I added a cutting from Mary Anne's succulent area at the Fort Mason Community Garden and just this week I added a cutting from Joen's gorgeous selection of succulents happily soaking up the sun on her back porch (gifts pictured above). The new cuttings seem to be adapting well.

Today we purchased 5 pots of herbs from a very nice gentleman at the farmers market. More on the herbs soon...stay tuned.

bored with breakfast?

Chris relaxing on the deck (ours for the weekend)

We just spent three beautiful days on the Inverness Ridge. Our climb to the top was pretty intense, so we tried to limit our trips into town for supplies and cooked most of our meals in the house.

One morning Chris decided to make savory oatmeal. Yes, savory - no brown sugar, no cream, no raisins.

He patiently prepared 2 servings of Bob's Red Mill 100% whole grain steel cut oats. Steel cut oats are worlds away from the oatmeal most of us grew up eating. They differ in taste (better), texture (better), and preparation (l o n g e r). Steel cut oats cook for 10-20 minutes over a low heat, nothing like those cute little sweetened pouches of just add hot water instant oatmeal.

Chris topped our savory steel cut oats with diced salametto (Fra'Mani handcrafted salumi from Berkeley) found at Tomales Bay Foods, finely grated Pecorino Romano from Palace Market (the one cheese we forgot to purchase at Cowgirl Creamery - love that place!), a drizzle of McEvoy Ranch extra virgin olive oil (McEvoy is a class act, but Stonehouse is still my favorite), and he completed the dish with coarse ground black pepper.

It was fantastic! I know we will be experimenting with many variations on this theme.

Thanks Chris!

wintertime

Jen at Modern Beet recently wrote about a wintertime tomato sauce. Her post prompted me to think about the meals we have been preparing during these winter months. We have recently given up our garden and are once again living the urban life. The photograph above is of a bowl filled with my last trip to our garden. Although I am feeling a bit melancholy about leaving our garden behind, we really don't have it so bad. First of all, we are in California! Second of all, we live close to the San Francisco Ferry Plaza Farmers Market and we've been taking advantage of Mariquita Farm's fantastic Thursday night mystery boxes. Below you will find a laundry list of ingredients we've been combining to keep us healthy and happy during this winter season.

Greens
We tried chickweed & miner's lettuce from Marin Roots Farm for the first time this year and love both - love their greens in general!
Mariquita Farms has supplied us with all sorts of goodies! They have a great photo section on their website where you can look up a photograph and a description for almost any vegetable. Our last mystery box included items such as spigariello (leaf broccoli), smallage (soup celery), green garlic (it's partially green...), swiss chard, escarole, a variety of radicchio (i never really liked radicchio, but after trying Mariquita's, i'm a big fan), savoy cabbage (first time we tasted it - yum!), and dandelion greens.

Roots
More from Mariquita: french fingerling potatoes, carrots (a nice variety), gold turnips, parsnips, and parsley root (still need to try and cook these up).

Fruit
Our meyer lemons, cara cara oranges, blood oranges, and sun dried cherries have been from Hamada Farms. I have also purchased blood oranges in other markets. I'll try them wherever I can find them!

Preserved
Anchovies have become my secret ingredient. I buy anchovies from Italy that come in a little glass jar. I have no idea what's available locally, but I'm open to suggestions and willing to try a new type of anchovy. I use anchovies in salads, sauteed greens, pasta dishes, etc. Muir Glen makes a great canned fire roasted tomato and I use them on pasta, in chili, in soups, etc. We use Niman Ranch bacon as a condiment, a few crumbles here and a few crumbles there, and yes, it is true, bacon makes everything better!

Prep
We use all sorts of greens in simple salads (often adding toasted nuts and fruit). Sauteing greens with olive oil, garlic & s&p and combining them with polenta, pasta, Israeli couscous, or quinoa is a staple in our winter diet. I also saute greens with peanut oil, soy, and a little sesame oil. Breakfast might involve greens with scrambled eggs or the wonderful crustless quiche that Chris makes with goat cheese and vegetables (most recently green garlic and spigariello). Soups! Roasted vegetables are always good. Recently I simmered parsnips and turnips in stock and then prepared them mashed potatoes style - quite good!

When I'm really lazy I make jalepeno refried bean and whole wheat tortilla burritos.

I'm sure there's more, but that's it for now. Time to celebrate a birthday.

Happy Birthday, Chris!

some more simplicity…

Life has been busy lately and we've been keeping our meals simple. Busy or not, it's been a satisfying way to eat. Superb ingredients shine with minimal preparation.

Baby Arugula Salad
Mince 2 cloves of garlic, sprinkle with salt, and use the edge of a knife to smash into a rough paste. Place the paste in the bottom of a large wood salad bowl. Finely chop two anchovy fillets (packaged in olive oil) and add to the bowl. Drizzle some olive oil (I am currently using Stonehouse Estate Blend) into the bottom of the bowl...don’t be shy...indulge a little. Squeeze the juice of one lemon into the bowl. Add a large amount (as much as you can fit and still have room to toss the greens) of crisp clean arugula into the bowl. Toss to coat with contents in bottom of the bowl. Add salt and course ground pepper to taste, and toss again. Top with shavings of Pecorino Romano cheese and homemade croutons (I cheated and used Mollie Stone's).

Inspired by a perfectly balanced arugula salad made by my Mother-in-law during her visit to Point Reyes Station.

citrus & cinnamon

I cannot stop thinking about blood oranges. The lovely specimens I have found lately have been so delicious and juicy that I've been hesitant to alter them in any way, but I have perfected a very simple pairing to which I've become addicted.

My inspiration was found in Claudia Roden's The Book of Jewish Food (thanks Mom). Ms. Roden writes of a common and very popular North African dessert, Salade d'Oranges, a combination of oranges, orange-blossom water, and cinnamon.

I typically begin preparing my version before dinner. 1st I find a pretty bowl and a sharp pairing knife. 2nd I remove all skin and pith and separate oranges into sections. 3rd I drizzle honey over the oranges. Lastly I sprinkle cinnamon on top.

I let the oranges, honey, and cinnamon mingle while I am eating dinner and thinking about how fabulous the oranges are going to taste, and then I eat them for dessert. Pure bliss.

CHILI

i use a different combo of meat and veggies each time i make chili. here's what i did last night:

brown two mild italian sausages (casing removed) in a stock pot, crumbling w/ wooden spoon while cooking (chris did this for me). remove sausage and set aside in a bowl.

brown one large yellow onion (chopped) and about 5 cloves of garlic (rough chopped) in the sausage drippings (scraping up brown bits as the onions and garlic cook).

add carrots and bok choy (yes, this seems very odd, but i had some leftover home-grown veggies from the night before...there were probably about 4-5 small carrots sliced super-thin on a mandoline and 1 smallish bok choy chopped up thinly (leaves and all)...i had made a very simple stir fry the night before and had only added a bit of soy sauce - i was a bit worried about the soy sauce, but by the time the chili was finished cooking there was no soy sauce taste at all...so...you could add some carrots and bok choy at this point, or whatever you like - the colors, texture, and taste of the carrots and bok choy were great and i'd definitely do it again.

add one seeded and finely chopped serrano pepper.

add a 15 ounce can of great northern beans.

add a 28 ounce can of fire roasted crushed tomatoes.

add the cooked sausage.

add cumin, chipotle chili powder, cayenne pepper, salt, freshly ground black pepper, and a little brown sugar and let simmer a while. i took it easy w/ the spices thinking i could add more later after i let it all settle and let the flavors mingle together. it turned out to be spiced perfectly and i didn't have to add anything.

so that's what i did. we just finished off the pot for lunch. it's cold and rainy, so hot chili was just what the doctor ordered!

have fun making your version : )

There are beans in my attic (take 2)

OK, so you are supposed to dry shelling beans on the plant. Problem was, I wanted to pull our bean teepees down to make room for a fall planting. So about a month ago I pulled all the Scarlet Runner Beans off the vines with the intention of drying the beas for soups. I somehow thought that you dry beans like you save seed for other varieties - by shelling them and laying them out on a flat surface. It turns out, they are supposed to be dried in the pods so we had to invent a space to dry them....

Introducing the world's first bean hammock. They seem to be happy up there and are moving along quite nicely. And best of all...I have lettuce sprouts where the beans used to be.

Apple Pie

Denise and I have worked out a great one-two punch in the pie arena. I make the filling and she rolls out a great olive (or canola) oil whole-wheat crust. Once I realized how much fruit we were going to cook through this summer/fall, I realized we needed to find a healthier way to make pies. The plum, pear, and apple trees have been keeping us busy. I think we're at the last apple harvest of the year...but I'm going to try to squeeze one more out of the tree next weekend.

Below you can find my Pie Filling and a link to Dene's crust.

Basic Filling (feel free to add ginger, cloves, etc.)

10 apples or pears (or half and half)
1/2 cup sugar
3 lemons (juice and zest to preserve fruits while peeling)
3 tbsp. flour

Crust

http://whatscookingamerica.net/piecrst.htm

Pickled Green Tomatoes

We've all heard about Fried Green Tomatoes, but my mom insisted that we try making pickled green tomatoes with the balance of the crop that didn't quite turn out this year. Rounding out the pickle were some of Denise's Lemon Cucumbers (one of the highlights of our first growing season) and some sliced onion.

We sliced them up and salted them overnight and I canned them today. You can find the recipe in the New York Times Cookbook. Haven't tasted them yet, but according to Mama Parsons there isn't much better than a pickled green tomato on dark bread with butter. Kind of helps get over the fact that tomato season is over. However, I've already got a shortlist of eight tomato varieties for next year...kind of a leap from the three this year...

little potato

i wanted to link you to a nice concise explanation of how potatoes grow, but all of the descriptions seemed to make it sound so intimidating and more complicated than fun...too many rules.

here is what works for me:
1) my neighbor hands me a few little potatoes that have grown eyes (she grew them in her garden and they grew eyes on the shelf in her pantry)
2) i bury them outside in a container (w/ drainage holes in the bottom) under some soil & compost (about 4 inches) and watch the green leafy plants emerge (burying whole potatoes versus pre-cut sets is a common practice in England and...it is simple and i like it)
3) after a few weeks i hill up more soil (i hear you can do this w/ straw versus soil, and that sounds nifty, but i have not tried it yet) around the green leafy plants, leaving a few inches of each plant above the soil
4) the visible parts of the plants eventually turn yellowish brown and slump over
5) i dig* into the soil beneath and around the slumped over plants and find potatoes** of various sizes, including the little potato shown above

what fun! i highly recommend planting potatoes.


* don't wait too long to dig or your tubers may decay

**don't eat any tubers that have been exposed to the sun and turned green, they contain a moderately poisonous substance called solanine

afterglow, defintion #2

The day was too short. It was still early, but the sun was slowly sinking and then suddenly dropped behind the hills. As I finished planting this new box the sky grew quite dark. One might think I'd be disappointed, but the transition from dusk to dark this evening was so calm and peaceful that I didn't really mind at all. I pushed the last remnants of soil off the edges and into the box and was ready to head inside with my shovel and empty black plastic pots, but I could not pull myself away. I quickly went inside and turned on the light so I could hurry back outside and admire the box, filled with it's elegant plants and grasses, standing proudly beneath the glow spilling out of the window. It's the little things in life...


af·ter·glow
noun

Definition:

1. light glow: radiated light that remains visible after a source of light or energy has been removed, e.g. the glow sometimes seen in the sky after sunset

2. good feeling: a feeling of pleasure or a favorable impression that remains after a positive experience
basking in the afterglow of victory

a great fall weekend...

The last five our six weekends have been pretty crazy. The tomatoes, cucumbers, pears, and apples are all peaking. In addition we've been digging new beds and putting in new crops (potatoes, peas, arugula, radiccho, broccoli, caulifolower, lettuces, carrots, spinach and more.) Between either cooking, preserving, gardening and digging there hasn't been much else.

Next weekend we're going to try to chill out when our friends Joen and Paul visit...but the next weekend we'll be back it.

I think the highlight of the weekend was the rain on Friday. We haven't had rain since we moved here in August. Not only did it feel great...the garden looked totally different in the rain. I also went for an evening hike in the rain. It was so nice to see some different weather.

compos(t)able

while harvesting my first round of vermicompost i proudly admired its simplicity, functionality, and beauty. As the worms scurried to the bottom of each pile to escape the sun, we harvested the compost from the uppermost part of each pile. in the end, the worms at the bottom get added back into the original box with new bedding and new kitchen scraps and the process starts all over again.

i also started to think about other types of compost. we had recently run out of compost and needed to purchase a couple of bags to amend the soil in some freshly dug vegetable beds. the quality of the commercial bagged compost paled in comparison to our home-grown vermicompost. i thought of how we had decided to escalate our composting efforts so we would not have to purchase compost in the future and how we had added a new compost box (thanks to our neighbor, ruth) to our yard so we could make use of our large scale yard trimmings that don't make sense in our worm boxes.

then i started to think about a compos(t)able coffee cup (note the missing "t" in the photo) i'd acquired earlier in the day. i usually tote my own cup to our local coffee bar, but this was an unexpected caffeine craving and i arrived unprepared and ill-equipped.

i was told that the disposable cup holding my coffee was compostable, but that we did not have an industrial composting facility in our local area. i began to ponder what that actually meant. what was an industrial composting facility? was it similar in any way to my backyard methods? i had the feeling the answer would not be simple and i was correct. apparently, it is all VERY complicated. i became exhausted after reading through 3 pages of the 187 questions and answers relating to my compostable cup. i found out that my cup cannot be composted in a backyard composting system, but it can be physically recycled, composted through industrial composting, incinerated via waste to energy systems, or chemically recycled back into its base monomer of lactic acid. i also learned that my cup was produced, in part, by dextrose from corn and that corn may or may not have been part of a GM corn crop, most likely a mix of genetically enhanced and conventional corn. i never found an explanation for the missing "t" on my cup (maybe it was part of an irregular cup sale), but i did decide that i would think twice about the value of compostable cups and packaging in my day-to-day life until i had a better understanding of industrial composting and our area opens an appropriate facility. i think i'll continue to carry along my own mug when going out for a cappuccino...my mugs are so much prettier than disposable cups.

thistles go to seed

yesterday i picked a few striking wild thistles that were growing out behind the fence of our backyard and tried to tame them with a few other wild flowers by arranging them all in a milk bottle turned floral vessel and placing it in my kitchen window. at the time i was not aware that the thistle had so many enemies. sigh...i seem to be a magnet for invasive weeds. the image above depicts what occurs when a thistle (or 2) goes to seed while confined indoors versus outdoors where the wind would scatter its seeds. i've never seen anything like it. it was early evening when i walked into the kitchen and saw that a couple of the more mature thistle heads had exploded, trying to send their seeds off for future generations. each tiny seed was surrounded by a beautiful soft fuzzy ball, light as air, worlds away from the thorny thistles i'd cut earlier that afternoon. if outdoors, the seeds would have floated away as passengers in mini hot air balloons.

sweet & simple cucumber recipe from mom

once i ran out and purchased the ingredients, i was able to quickly and easily prepare this recipe and mom was correct, i couldn't stop eating it - yum!

excerpt from an email from my mom:

My favorite way to eat them now is sliced into a pretty Chinese bowl with a bit of thinly sliced scallion, a tablespoon or more of rice wine vinegar (the seasoned one because it is sweet and salty), a drop or two of toasted sesame oil, a sprinkling of black and white sesame seeds, and a few grinds of black pepper. So delicious... You can't stop eating it.

cool as a cucumber

my first homegrown cucumber was cool, crisp, sweet, and oh-so-attractive (see above). this cucumber traveled a long hard road before making it to my cutting board today. at times i wasn't sure my sad little plants would ever bear fruit. the first problem was the pair of blue jays that would swoop down onto the bed and try to take the little seedlings away with them. chris and i fixed that problem with some bamboo, twine, and a little bird netting. but there were more bumps in the road...the seedlings were refusing to grow up, they were so very small for what seemed an eternity, then they looked a bit yellow, then a bit limp. i remained patient and optimistic as i watered them regularly, added some more compost around the base of the plants, and crossed my fingers. the cucumber vines are now bright green and sprawling. and today, hiding beneath some of those bright green (and prickly) leaves, i uncovered this little gem - fantasic!

when i recall the backyard vegetable garden of my childhood i think of our little cucumbers and the pickles my mom made with them. i'll definitely follow in mom's footsteps and be experimenting with some cucumber pickles of my own, but i must wait until i have more than one small cucumber. my time will come, soon i'm sure.

the cucumber is one of my favorite vegetables. it's VERY versatile, eaten in many cultures, and it tastes great without any prep - just slice and eat...done. i have always thought of the cucumber as a vegetable, but since it has an enclosed seed and develops from a flower, it is technically a fruit. as i understand, the term "vegetable" is not scientific and the usage of the word is subjective, so, for now, i'll continue to think of these green little guys as veggies.

i'll leave you with a lovely poem that i found today. it was written by a girl named Alysha. it seems there was a poetry competition and the children were asked to write a poem about a vegetable. Alysha, who must also think of the cucumber as a veggie, responded with this poem. you can read more vegetable poems writtem by children here:
poetry zone

Cool Cucumber
by Alysha Bhatti (aged 8)

Cucumber with noodles
Pizza or rice.
Even on its own
Cucumber tastes nice.

Cucumber in chutney
With yogurt and spice
Diced or grated
Or in a slice.

Cucumber with prawn
Cucumber with fish
Cucumber is the king
Of every salad dish.

Cucumber for hunger,
Cucumber for thirst
In this competition
Cucumber comes first.

The biggest surprise (updated)

I can say, without a doubt, that lettuces have been the biggest surprise for me in the garden. Lettuces never made the mental list of some-day crops that we had been maintaining over the last few years. When Steve Quirt, our local extension practitioner, brought a flat of baby lettuce to his seed-saving lecture in June, I was lukewarm on Denise's idea to take them home.

Granted, Steve's lecture on saving seed was eye-opening. I had no idea how such a thing worked with lettuce, and I had no idea how many varieties of lettuce there were. Steve has been growing lettuce in our area for almost thirty years and he pretty much seems to be growing his own cultivars now. His lecture piqued my interest in lettuce a little more...but not even really to a simmer.

Over the last two months we had our first crop of mesclun fail (planted too late) and our second crop of butter lettuces (planted too late, perhaps not enough sun) has puttered along. We obtained the seeds for both of these crops from mail-order sources. I haven't given up on our second crop, but I can't say they have been a success either.

Meanwhile, the lettuces we got from Steve were slowly moving along, growing bit by bit. We attributed this to planting them in the wrong season and the hot weather. However, the weather cooled off a couple weeks ago and Steve's lettuces got to eating size. We know that lettuces tend to bolt if exposed to prolonged hot weather so we thought we should just try some in case we ended up losing the crop.

It was excellent. (I'm kicking myself for not photographing the pea, mint, lemon, pecorino salad we made Friday night with it.) But the most interesting surprise was how fast it grew back in. I noticed this while hand-watering* this weekend and immediately called Denise over to see it. I am still blown away every time I walk by it.

Below there are two photographs that show the lettuce we harvested this Friday in the foreground and lettuces we harvested a week ago Friday in the background. We have been harvesting lettuces by snipping the leaves about an inch and a half from the base. Denise learned that the lettuces actually grow from the bottom (seems obvious enough I suppose) and if you look at the photos carefully you can see that the tips of the re-grown lettuces are flat where they were snipped.


So the logical moral to the story is that seeds / crops that have grown well in this climate, in fact in this case, were developed in this climate, will do best. We're looking forward to harvesting Steve's crop as long as possible into the fall, letting it go to seed, and planting a whole lot more of it next year.

-- Chris

* Hand-watering. We've been getting some grief from some of our friends for not putting in drip irrigation. usually this comes after we say something like "I'd love to attend your baby shower/birthday party/wedding but I have to water my tomatoes." OK, that's an exaggeration, but it is not an overstatement to say that growing food without irrigation can put a bit of a cramp on your social life. Which is fine with us. That, and we're cheap. Especially on rented land. Add in that we didn't exactly know what we were doing when we laid out the beds, and irrigation is kind of ruled out for us.

But I have been reading more and more that indicates that hand-watering is the way to go for several reasons, but the most interesting one to me is that it forces you to slow down and spend time with your plants on a regular basis. You notice little things (like lettuce re-growth) and you learn about how your plants grow in a way you never would if you let a nanny raise your kids. Oops, I mixed metaphors there. But I stand by my opinion.

Starting Over

Over the last few weeks we've been swimming in blackberries, plums, beets, shelling peas, beans, and summer squash. We've also been falling in love with growing (and re-growing) lettuces. The lettuce story is a whole other blog post.

Denise made a count the other day and I think she figured out we are growing something like FIFTY-FOUR different varieties of vegetables. Wow. I really don't know how that happened.

Actually...

...that's a lie. I know exactly how it happened, cause this we added five new varieties, all five of which were unplanned. Our neighbor, Ruth, continues to bring us things she thinks
we'd like to plant. In the case of leeks, two types of potatoes, and fennel - she's right.
In the case of cilantro...not so much. For me. But I have to say that it is always interesting to see how things grow.

I think if I took the time to think about it, I could probably list another five that came from Ruth, and another five or so came from community seed / plant exchanges in town. That's how we ended up with Oca. (The middle plant in the picture above). http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oca. That's how we ended up with the lettuces that will be the star of the next blog post.

It's almost like we're the pet rescue shelter for vegetable plants and seeds...we've just been suckers for anything new, because it is really interesting to watch them grow. (Two varieties of newly planted potatoes above.)

But don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, and I also can't quite lay the blame outside the household. The final pictures, below, are of the newest major addition to the garden, a 4’ x 12’ bed, our first non-raised bed, that I dug out, gopher-proofed, and cultivated about a month ago. Yes, a month ago. The bed is composed of two varieties of beans, four squashes, and one watermelon. (We have planted two of the "three sisters," and we cut down some New Zealand Flax from Ruth's garden to stand in for corn as the vertical supports for the beans.) This bed is also our first experiment with using straw as a mulch...and so far so good. And we like the way it looks as well.

So… back to the title. We have seen the end of some of our earliest crops (radishes, carrots, and beets) and we can see the end of several more coming. So over the next few weeks we'll continue to do more planting, scheming, digging, and planting. And if the past is any indicator of the future...we'll be proud foster parents of some new transplants as well. Here's to seventy-five varieties.


--Chris

Link to more about the three sisters - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Three_Sisters_(agriculture)

still knee-deep in plums!

Why is it called “canning” if we are putting food in jars?

according to Intercourse Canning Company:
In 1795 Napoleon offered money to anyone who could find a way to preserve foods for his troops. Nicholas Appert of France found a way to preserve food in jars sterilized and sealed with pitch and had a vacuum-packing plant by 1804. This process was a military "secret" but by 1810 Peter Durand of England had a patent for tin-plated iron to use in "canning." Canned rations were on the field at the Battle of Waterloo.

In 1812 a small plant in New York produced hermetically sealed oysters, meats, fruits, and vegetables in cans. Durand introduced his can to America in 1818. Henry Evans patented a machine that made the tin cans increasing production from 5-6 cans to 50-60 cans per hour.

In 1858 American John Mason invented the now famous glass jar for home canning. By the 1860s the process time had dropped from six hours to 30 minutes, making canned foods commonplace. In the heating process the sterilization destroys bacteria and enzymes that can cause spoiling, and the seal prevents new air or other organisms from entering.

what have we canned in the test kitchen?

• mixed garden plum w/garam masala preserves* (we've tried this one on bread and butter, toast, w/ cheese and toasted baguette slices, and on lamb chops)
• santa rosa plum w/rosemary preserves (excellent on french toast!)
• yellow garden plum w/ginger & clove preserves (tastes like peaches)
• garden plum chutney (waiting 3 weeks to allow it to mellow)
• garden plum w/vanilla bean preserves (tastes like raspberries)
• pickled garden plums (cooling off as i type...)

*noted in Can't take credit for them...

i need a nap.

Can't take credit for them....

 

 

We're lucky enough to have inherited three varieties of plums. Denise made a plum preserve last weekend with our new wonder spice, garam masala. Since we haven't stocked the Point Reyes pantry yet we are reaching for garam masala whenever we need something with cloves/cinnamon/cumin etc. It is very cool to cook with. Anyhow, it turned out like a cross between a jam and a chutney. We've using it on toast to date but Denise is using it to glaze lamb chops tonight.

I've got a plum tart in the oven as we speak. While Denise was inclusive in her preserve, using plums from all across the size and color specturm, my tart is a strickly fascist Santa Rosa affair. (See second pic.) I was about ten minutes into researching a crust from scratch when I decided it would take too much time. Denise suggested a graham cracker crust. So a little melted butter and some crumbled graham crackers and I was off. I decided that the plums were so sweet that I'd only add lemon juice and zest. I don't get all this sugar in the recipies.

The larger story is that I am trying to cook without recipies and internet more and more. One of my goals in moving up here was to get to know the hiking trails well enough that I didn't have to take a map along to find my way. I wanted to know which ones were good in shade and in sun, which were a hard workout, which had good spots by streams by heart, so I could just pick up and go.

I'm getting more and more like that with my cooking. I want to get good enough that I can improvise all the time...only turning to books and internet for new experiments, or complicated things like bread. (Although, I really want to get some basic breads down as well.)

So back to the title...I can't take credit for growing the plums, but you can bet your ass I'm going to claim credit for my tart. Assuming it turns out well...

charlotte and her web(s)

I’m not sure when I began to fear spiders. My early spider memories are of Charlotte and her web and the itsy bitsy spider crawling up the water spout, so when my fear originated is a mystery to me.

I knew before I moved to Point Reyes that if I wanted to live in such a place I’d have to learn to coexist with these eight legged creatures. This photograph was taken on a hike about a month before we started looking for a place in West Marin to call our own. It was during an early morning stroll and we were amazed by the amount of webs. They were everywhere we turned, covered with dew, and glistening in the sunshine. How could something I’d come to find so awful and creepy create such beautiful and functional sculptural work?

Since then we have moved into the house and I have slowly gotten used to these little silk producers. There are so many and such a wide variety that I really didn’t have a choice. They weren’t leaving and I wasn’t leaving. If I attempted to get rid of them, in a county like West Marin, I’d be stoned to death. Best of all, they do control evil-doers in the garden such as aphids and cucumber beetles.

When I found this little tidbit I realized I had more in common with the female spider than I knew. You know how it is, sometimes when I've skipped a meal and waited just a bit too long, well...it's hard to even see straight. As poor Chris knows all to well, life isn’t fun for anyone when I’m hungry…

Males are sometimes killed by females. In at least some of these cases it is likely that the males are simply mistaken as prey. The risk of this happening is greater if the female is hungry. To counter this, some male spiders offer a "bribe" to the female, in form of a fly or other prey, prior to the mating.

So the fear subsides and we share the property, but my curiosity stops there. There is no real future for us and we’ll never be pest pals. I adore the intelligence and artistic abilities of many of these spiders inhabiting the premises, but I can’t imagine I’ll ever be happy about sharing my shower with one, even if she happens to be a cousin of my good friend the scorpion. We’ll just tolerate each other as indifferent neighbors sometimes do.

where's the beef?

Tonight we cooked up half a pound of ground beef, a green pepper, some canned tomatoes, garlic and green onion (the sole participant from the kitchen garden.) They are basically sloppy joes.

The thing that is odd about this meal is that it is the first one this weekend that involves much meat. It is also the first one that didn't center around our garden. The summer squash soup with coconut milk, pasta primavera, and root veegie roast were all at least half based on the garden. (Not to mention the ridiculous blackberry pie Dene made on Saturday.)

We're kind of strangely, silently evolving to a mostly vegetarian diet. Not for political, health, or any other reasons. Just cause we try and eat what we are growing and supplement the rest at the farmer's market. By the time we have used up our food for the weekend...there's not much room for meat.

The other odd thing that has happened is that we're eating four or five times a day. Denise came in with some fresh beans from the garden and we just made them into a small course on the spot. I boiled some beets as the beginning of a pickling experiment and we ate them all as I was peeling off the skins. This keeps happening again and again.

This of course, will all end as soon as we get the goats, pigs and chickens.

say it isn't so

my neighbor told me to get rid of these sweet little flowers and their pretty winding vines tout de suite! i did not... i couldn't. i like them. i just located the data below and still have no urge to remove them. they are popping up all over, around the tomatoes, near the peas, in front of the old chicken coop.

our comfrey is supposed to cause big trouble too. i obeyed when another neighbor said "chop that comfrey down immediately!", but then it came back and i've decided to let it grow large and out of control. why not? we've also planted two types of mint and mint is supposed to be very dangerous as well. bad bad mint. and then there are our beloved blackberries, invasive, wicked, non-native! all of the blackberry plants were cleared from the site of the new point reyes food forest so more respectable food could be planted. california blackberry plants do exist, but from what i understand, they are small thorned and all of the blackberries i've seen in our neighborhood are covered with large feisty thorns.

why am i so protective of these wild and crazies? i am not sure, but these noxious weeds, invasives, the james deans of the plant world, they are my friends.

run free, all of you!

Field bindweed, Convolvulus arvensis, is a native of Eurasia and was first documented in California in 1884 when it was collected in San Diego. By the first quarter of the twentieth century, field bindweed was proclaimed the worst weed in California and many of the western states. It has been given many names including perennial morningglory, creeping jenny, bellbine, sheep-bine, and corn-bind.

Field bindweed is one of the most persistent and difficult-to-control weeds in ornamentals, orchard and vine crops, and field crops. It has a vigorous root and rhizome system that makes it almost impossible to control with cultivation. Its seed has a long dormancy and may last in soil for up to 60 years. It has a climbing habit that allows the plant to grow through mulches. Field bindweed is also very drought tolerant and once established is almost impossible to control with herbicides.

If field bindweed is present, agricultural land is devalued and the weed precludes planting of certain crops such as onions, melons, and tomatoes.

~we currently have onions, melons, and tomatoes growing...so there!

laundry or lemonade?

Mesa Road, Point Reyes Station, July 2008

hanging cool laundry on a hot day is almost as nice as a glass of homemade lemonade.

beansy

have you ever seen baby beans? these are the first beans (blue lake bush beans) i've ever grown, so i have just seen my first (above). VERY cute. i have my hand in the photo for scale. these little guys are supposed to grow into 6 1/2" round pods. somehow i thought they'd be more similar to my peas (tall telephone pole peas), but not at all. i just went outside and took a look at my peas and even in the infant stage (i uncovered a small pea from within a dying blossom) the peas emerge shorter and much wider than the slender mini beans that even this tiny, are bare, they've already shed their dying blossom overcoats.

lesson learned: when the flower dries up, both pea and bean pods grow in the same place, but emerge looking quite different. i probably learned such things when i was in elementary school, but when it isn't part of daily life, so much of it floats away...

something else i've noticed while watching my peas and beans grow: the data on the seed packets i've purchased only serve as suggestions for what might occur. i planted my pole peas, beans, and snap peas on the same day. my pole peas packet suggests 70 days to harvest and my bush beans packet claims 55 days to harvest. i've been eating my pole peas off the vine for over a week now and my beans are nowhere near snack stage. my snap peas packet reads that they will grow with self supporting vines and will be ready for harvest in 58 days. last thursday they showed that they were not in the mood to be self-supporting when they fell right over. they are now happily growing around a bamboo teepee and it was just today that i saw my first snap pea blossom - no actual peas in sight. i guess the performance of our plants varies for so many reasons: soil, fertilizer, sun, shade, water, pests of all sorts, surrounding plants, love, etc. that it must be near impossible to pinpoint seed packet specifics such as what time of year to plant, days to germination, days to harvest, etc. i'm having fun watching and learning. no need for hard data. mother nature has her own ideas and i'm certainly not going to question them.

speaking of mothers, when i was a tot my mom used to call me beansy, her little beansy. truth be told, she still addresses me as her little beansy in an email every now and again, usually when i'm not feeling well or i've been let down in one way or another. maybe that's why i'm so fond of these sweet fragile little beans...

casual extravagance

so the best thing about the point reyes farmer's market, of which we are in the third week, is the oyster pricing. drake's estero and tomales bay (hog island) supply the bay area with local oysters, and as we were surprised to discover, supply the local farmer's market with heavily discounted oysters (under a dollar a piece) as well.

mix in a bbq and a bottle of (not even close to local) italian prosecco and you have what we believe will be the basic meal plan for the rest of our summer saturdays. right, i almost forgot the strauss family farm ice cream from tomales. ;)

happy independence day

i started the morning by reading a book on wabi-sabi, a japanese world view on art, philosophy, design and aesthetics. (more here.) i have read a few books about wabi-sabi over the years and there is a lot in there i like, especially the embrace of the imperfect over the perfect, nature over technology. basically i dig it because it gives me an excuse for my creative ideas of precision. (see above). i would not have made a good modernist, at least not as a design-builder.



i then picked up a book about sim van der ryn, a local point reyes architect, one of the pioneers of sustainable architecture in the bay area. sim was exploring everything, i mean everything that is in vogue now. "alternative" energy, growing his own food, experimental architecture, rural living, composting, etc etc etc. it was actually pretty hilarious to learn that we (this generation) is just retreading most of the same ground of the back-to-the-land movement, but now it is too expensive here to do it they way that they did it.



i'm somehow tempted to write something about the fact that is the fourth of july - maybe write something about growing your own food being a great way of being independent. but that seems kind of annoying, even to me, and besides, that's not even what i've been thinking about today. we have a long history of independent individuals in this country - whether it is writers like kerouac or thoreau or architect/engineers like sim van der ryn - and those people have made america great. not our political parties or companies, but our individuals have been the trailblazers for the rest of us.



so as i enjoy my homemade pickled beets (thanks mary o for the inspiration) and watch my squashes blossom and tomatoes ripen - i am thankful for the strong, independent individuals in our country who have inspired me to think about living a little differently, being a bit more selfish, breaking the rules when they seem arbitrary or outdated and taking the time to write and speak about it.

wabi-sabi

our first squash blossom!

Peas, Glorious Peas II

but i thought you loved my dirty roots...

As I looked at my meticulously groomed carrots resting in their sterilized pint Ball jar, anticipating the day they'd become pickles, I paused to consider what I'd been up to all afternoon. If my favorite root vegetables are those freshly pulled from their beds and covered with dirt, why was I spending my entire afternoon scrubbing, peeling, and trimming one bunch of Peter Martinelli's carrots to create a single jar of pickled carrots? Why didn't I just skip the prep work and drizzle the carrots with olive oil and roast them or simply rinse them off and eat them fresh and unadorned?

Instead I found the preparation of this sole jar of pickled carrots profoundly fulfilling. Now this wasn't my first foray into pickling, just my first jar of pickles using produce from the recently-back-in-action Point Reyes Farmers Market. I'd experimented with cucumbers, green beans, and other carrot varieties. I'd searched for and tried using an assortment of sizes and types of jars: Ball, Kerr, and a even a French wire-clamp jar with a rubber ring (these canning vessels are classic examples of the type of nostalgic domestic objects to which I'm forever attracted). Lastly, I read recipes from a diverse array of cultures before writing and then attempting a few of my own.

Once I decided what this particular pickling project would entail, the carrot preparation mentioned earlier began. Next, I selected whole spices from my Morton & Bassett collection, chosen specifically for my pickling experiments, and crushed most of the spices with my thumb to release their flavor, some required the strength of the bottom of a stainless steel measuring cup, and one spice, star anise, was too pretty to crush and was added fully intact. The smell of the apple cider vinegar, water, sugar, and crushed spices simmering on the stove was fantastic (Chris disagreed, but I loved it!). The photograph above is of the full jar as it cooled to room temperature.

My choice of attempting to make yet another labor intensive jar of pickled carrots versus biting into a fresh carrot much closer to its original and well-loved dirty root stage isn't much of a stretch when I consider other aspects of my life. How did a hyper-driven corporate recruiter with her favorite phrase "make dust or eat dust" posted prominently on the front of her computer abandon that world completely and pursue a Master of Fine Arts degree? The same way a proud urbanite committed to the contemporary art world and public transportation moved to a small rural town (pop. 350), bought a car, and became dedicated to growing fruit, vegetables, and caring for two boxes of composting worms.

These are just a few of the disparate experiences that have somehow become stitched together to create the person I am today. There is some part of me, sometimes a very small part, that has a soft spot for just about everything in my past.

Sometimes I miss the clear and quantifiable way I was rewarded in the corporate world. Calculating my value is much more complicated now and often leaves me feeling a bit unsettled. I was spoiled by my city apartment's proximity to delicious Indian, Japanese, and Vietnamese restaurants (just to name a few of my wide array of gastronomic choices). Guilty trips to H&M for $3 earrings or $5 sunglasses and those fabulous evenings having drinks in swanky bars with my girlfriends...sigh. Oh city life...

But now I make homemade lemonade with the lemons and mint that grow right outside my front door. I walk 5 steps out my back door and savor what seems like an endless supply of raspberries and blackberries. And then there is the gratification of digging my hands into the dirt with my neighbor to uncover a family of little potatoes and watching my peas' tiny tendrils hold on tightly as they climb higher and higher up my fence. The peaceful nights, quiet with the only exception being the sound of a lonely owl softly hooting every now and then...glorious. Oh the country life...

I love it all, but for now I focus on the moment and patiently await my first bite into one of my crisp pickled carrots.

Pt. Reyes Test Kitchen: Radishes and Beets

You might wonder, what are you going to do with radishes on a regular basis? Obviously, we put them in salads. That's just fine. They fit right in and are a good source of Vitamin C. The French Breakfast radishes are particularly good sliced thin and served on a slice of fresh bread with butter and salt. I'm not sure where we read about this....but it is an excellent treat.

However, real men don't only have two options for eating a vegetable, especially when neither of them involved cooking. This is where yesterday's test kitchen picked up. I thought...I've never heard of sauteed radishes, let's give it a shot. And while I was at it, I harvested three types of beets from the beds. The dark purple is Bull's Blood, the yellow are Goldens, and the candy-cane looking beet is a Chioggia.

Experiment One - Sauteed Radishes vs. Raw Radishes. The radishes were OK sauteed, you could use them in a pasta perhaps as a source of nutrition and you might not notice they were there. Denise thought the texture was a little off and I just thought they were a little bland.
Verdict -When radishes lose their crispness and their spicy kick, what's the point.

Experiment Two - Sauteed Beet Greens vs. Raw Beet Greens. The Golden and the Chioggia greens are actually green, the Bull's Blood are red/purple. I cooked all three and the Golden and Chioggia greens were excellent cooked. The Bull's Blood...not so much. The funny thing about this experiment, is that if you just bite into a Bull's Blood green raw, they are the sweetest and best. Almost sweet enough to make into a salad green, especially when they are young. On the other hand, the Golden, and particularly the Chioggia were really unpleasant as raw greens.
Verdict - Sauteed Golden and Chioggia Beet Greens make an excellent green for a dinner, lunch, or perhaps even frittata/omelet. The baby Bull's Blood greens could be used in a mesclun or on their own as a salad.

Experiment Three - Sauteed Beets vs. Raw Beets. OK, OK, this isn't much of an experiment. Of course the beets will be good. But what we found interesting about the Chioggias was that they are excellent eaten raw, like say, a radish. In fact, I prefer them to radishes raw. The Bull's Blood and Goldens are not so good raw. They have a hint of beet taste, but it seems that they only really release their sweetness/taste once cooked. (This might also have to do with size. The beets I harvested are about an inch and a half in diameter.
Verdict - Chioggias, in my opinion, are the rockstars of the beet world. The root is good raw, good cooked. The greens are excellent cooked. I have built a new "Beet Box" out back and ordered more Chioggia seeds. My plan is to use succession planting for the rest of the season so we always have Chioggias on hand.

I know you are but what am I?

Peas, Glorious Peas

The peas just might be the highlight of the kitchen garden so far.