Be skilled or be killed

From the garden

It’s hard not to eat all the little baby squash before they reach adulthood. They are just so cute and delicious.

My first pie.

Strawberry rhubarb. I am proud.

Baby strawberries!

Oh, so tasty, even if they are teensy tiny.

Over the hills and through the woods

My lovely aunt and I trekked to the dear grandmother’s house yesterday for gardening adventures.

Her greenhouse is bursting at the seams with plants ready to be moved out into the garden. It is a marvelous thing that she shares her hard work in the form of plants I get to take home. After I ransacked the place, we went out to the garden to plant a few tomatoes and squash. (How’s this for a wild number: the other day she planted 57 peppers.) Mostly I watched, gleaning new knowledge. For example: I always thought that one should plant squash in a little hill, as in, a little mound of dirt. As she transplanted the squash like one would transplant tomatoes or beans, I asked after her planting techniques. And I learned: ‘hill’ in regards to squash just means to plant a few seeds together in the same hole. As opposed to ‘row’ planting, for things such as carrots or beets or onions, in which seeds are scattered down the length of the row. Thus when one transplants squash, and there are a few little babies in the same container, transplant them all together as opposed to breaking them up. Ah ha!

So we planted, and put up the ribs for a cloche. (I don’t know that they’re actually called ribs, but if they aren’t they should be.)

And then pulled the skin over the ribs to protect the little babies inside from the harsh, inclement weather.

The excellent berry patch. It may look a bit unassuming, but from here, comes all sorts of deliciousness in the form of fresh berries and then … berry cordial.

I managed to get all the precious little plants home, safe and sound. My kitchen table has since turned into jungle, but it’s worth it. Behold the beauty!

Please note: on the window sill, the bottle of most excellent plum tones. In this bottle lies the golden nectar of Grammie’s Berry Cordial.

O, did you think that was it? Nope, there’s more hiding on the floor.

Tally:

(1) artichoke plant

(4) different kinds of squash 

(5) different kinds of tomatoes

(5) peppers (mostly serrano, my favorite)

(4) basil, of several varieties

(4) broccoflower

(2) broccoli

(1) tomatillo

(some) cilantro

(some) pretty flowers

(2) kinds of beans 

Rhubarb is a crazy plant

I’ve been working real hard over at the ol’ Iron Curtain Press, so yesterday I took a half ‘me’ day. And boy howdy! It was a delight.

Browsing around the interweb a few days ago I was inspired to make rhubarb syrup. I have a vibrantly healthy rhubarb plant in my garden that I’ve been watching grow and grow.

(a month ago it looked like this:

and then I read in my handy dandy The Vegetable and Herb Expert that you’re supposed to pull off any flowering part of the rhubarb. Oops.)

I digress, back to the day at hand. I trimmed a few stalks from the mighty plant, cut off the offensive poisonous leaf and brought them inside.

I put them in a pot, and added

simmered the whole mess for about 15 minutes

poured it through a strainer, mashed some of the pulp through the sieve, and with the help of an assistant managed to get the whole sticky mess into a bottle

Ohh! Look at that amazing pink color! As it was an appropriate time of day for such behavior, we then mixed our beautiful rhubarb syrup with some vodka and soda water, kicked back our feet and relaxed.

I also spent a while out in the garden, formerly known as depressing weed patch, with a cheerful assistant - trimming trees and pulling out the aggressive and annoying weeds. I did not take a before picture as the before was something I barely wanted to acknowledge. Hence I did not take an ‘after’ picture because it’s only impressive if you saw what came before.  

Rhubarb Syrup

inspired by 3191 miles apart

3 cups chopped rhubarb

2 1/4 cups water

1 1/2 cups sugar

1 1/2 teaspoons lime zest (lemon in the original recipe, but I did not have a lemon)

Combine all these in a pot, over medium high heat. Bring to a boil, and then simmer for about 15 minutes. It should be pink and syrupy and the rhubarb should be real mushy and weird looking. Let it cool. Strain it all through a mesh sieve, smash the pulp a bit to get some of it through the mesh. Pour in to a bottle. Marvel at the pinkness. (note: I thought it might be a bit too sweet, but rest assured, when mixed with soda and alcohol, or just soda, as it were, it has a delightful rhubarb taste and certainly is not too sweet.)

I don’t have a proper cocktail recipe for this syrup at this moment but I’m sure I will be experimenting with it in the near future.

So it begins.

My little weed patches have been staring at me forlornly.

A couple weeks ago, Joel went out and attacked the garden plots with a pick axe, turning over the ground, loosening up the weeds, making it easier for me to get the ground ready for planting.

And still I just let them sit. 

Finally the other evening, I went out and marked off a ‘reasonable’ area to conquer, to eradicate of pesky weeds. Oh! The lovely smell of dirt! The quietness of the evening! The cute little worms! I worked away, listening to the neighbors down the street yell at each other and the kids in the park through the hedge play soccer.

And then yesterday, I bought some fresh seeds.

Please note: I am a sucker for packaging and bought this brand of seeds purely because the water color drawings are so cute. Don’t judge me, I consider it an illness. Please also note: a little book for keeping notes is essential for me. I am forgetful and can’t remember what I planted where, and when it was I planted it. This notebook acts as an extension for my poor little brain.

More golden beets and carrots are in my future. I had some other packets of seeds for more carrots and golden beets left from last summer, so those also went into the ground last night.

I only really start a few things from seeds, last night it was 3 rows of carrots and 3 rows of beets. I’ll plant some cute medallion squash, some green onions and some peas in the next few days. Most of what I plant will come from starts from my talented gardening grandmother. She is amazing and has all sorts of charts and spreadsheets about what she is planting, what she starts in her green house, when those starts get moved to larger pots and different lights. It’s inspiring. And I am thankful that I get to reap the rewards of her organization by getting all sorts of tomatoes and peppers and squash and onions and on and on from her.

So, these little rows went in last night. You’ll notice to the right of the strings the incredible feast of weeds I have waiting for me. I have my work cut out for me in the next couple weeks. But I am not afraid!

Carrot Soup

I pulled the last of our carrots from the garden last week.

And turned them into soup.

Carrot Soup

(from The Art of Simple Food by Alice Waters)

4 TB (1/2 stick) butter

2 onions sliced

1 Thyme sprig

2.5 LBS Carrots peeled and sliced (about 6 cups)

Salt

6 cups broth

(My notes are in italics)

Melt the butter in a heavy-bottomed pot. Add the onions and thyme. Cook over medium-low heat until tender, about 10 minutes. Add the carrots and season with salt. (I add a few turns of a pepper grinder at this point as well.) Cook for 5 minutes. Cooking the carrots with the onions for a while builds flavor. (I read ‘builds flavor’ and thought, heck I’ll cook it even longer. Who knows how much it really affects the flavor, but I cook the carrots and onions for even 15-20 minutes to maximize flavor building.) Add 6 cups broth. Bring to a boil, lower to a simmer, and cook until the carrots are tender, about 30 minutes. When done, season with salt to taste (and pepper!) and puree if desired. (Pureed is where it’s at! Be careful if you have a less than industrial strength blender when dealing with piping hot liquids. The hot air expands in the trapped blender chamber and can cause major issues. Blend until it’s velvety smooth!)

Can can, can you do the can can?

Our house is very small. About the size of a shoebox full of shoes for a small child. Joel and I do our best to keep it free of clutter and chaos - but it is hard to find storage for everything you’d like to keep around. Our pantry/laundry room/mud room/general chaos center of the house is the particular bane of our housekeeping particularities. All year we’ve had a whole shelf dedicated to empty mason jars. All year Joel has looked longingly at the space that could be created if only he could get rid of those dang jars. All year I reassured him that come fall, he would love those mason jars for all the beautiful canning bounty they would hold.

So naturally, I have been far too busy to can anything yet. The fall canning/cleaning out the garden season has coincided with one of the busier times for The Iron Curtain Press. It’s nearing the end of October, I still haven’t used the jars and I’m driving Joel mad.

But finally, a break in the work flow! I ran out to the garden with my little buckets and plucked all the green tomatoes from the poor little tomato bushes with the intention of making green tomato pickles and green tomato relish. I gathered a few ingredients I couldn’t coax from the garden and voila, the canning commenced.

I also found some little friends in a jar. I choose to think of it as seasonal decor. They were no longer in the land of the living, so I flushed them down the drain.

I chopped up all the onions/peppers/tomatoes needed for the relish and the pile just kept growing exponentially. There are certain household appliances that I hope to own one day - this day I was reminded of my great and burning need for an adult sized food processor. I only have a silly little one that’s great for making single batches of pesto or some other impractical quantity of a sauce. But I just hummed a little tune, pretended that it didn’t gross me out to get food all over my hands, and slowly but surely made my way through that pile of vegetables.

The relish-ing process is actually really easy in comparison to the vegetable grinding portion of the project. Stir in some spices and sugar and vinegar, let it boil for a bit and you’re ready to put that relish in the jars. Then you can it in a hot water bath for a bit and you’re done.

Green Tomato Relish (from allrecipes.com)

INGREDIENTS

• 24 large green tomatoes
• 3 red bell peppers, halved and seeded
• 3 green bell peppers, halved and seeded
• 12 large onions
• 3 tablespoons celery seed
• 3 tablespoons mustard seed
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 5 cups white sugar
• 2 cups cider vinegar

DIRECTIONS

1. In a grinder or food processor, coarsely grind tomatoes, red bell peppers, green bell peppers, and onions. (You may need to do this in batches.) Line a large colander with cheesecloth, place in sink or in a large bowl, and pour in tomato mixture to drain for 1 hour.
2. In a large, non-aluminum stockpot, combine tomato mixture, celery seed, mustard seed, salt, sugar, and vinegar. Bring to a boil and simmer over low heat 5 minutes, stirring frequently.
3. Sterilize enough jars and lids to hold relish (12 one-pint jars, or 6 one-quart jars). Pack relish into sterilized jars, making sure there are no spaces or air pockets. Fill jars all the way to top. Screw on lids.
4. Place a rack in the bottom of a large stockpot and fill halfway with boiling water. Carefully lower jars into pot using a holder. Leave a 2 inch space between jars. Pour in more boiling water if necessary, until tops of jars are covered by 2 inches of water. Bring water to a full boil, then cover and process for 30 minutes.
5. Remove jars from pot and place on cloth-covered or wood surface, several inches apart, until cool. Once cool, press top of each lid with finger, ensuring that seal is tight (lid does not move up or down at all). Relish can be stored for up to a year.

Then it was on to the pickling. This was super easy and really fun.

Pickles patiently awaiting their brine.

Green Tomato Pickles (from the Kerr canning book)

INGREDIENTS

• Green tomatoes
• Stalk celery
• Sweet green peppers
• Garlic
• 2 quarts water
• 1 quart vinegar
• 1 tablespoon salt
• 1 cup salt
• dill to taste

DIRECTIONS

1. Use small, firm green tomatoes. Pack into sterilized jars.
2. Add to each quart jar a bud of garlic, 1 stalk of celery and 1 green pepper cut into fourths.
3. Make a brine of the water, vinegar and salt and boil with the dill for 5 minutes.
4. Pour the hot brine over the pickles in the jars and seal at once. These will be ready for use in 4-6 weeks. This amount of liquid fills about 6 quarts.

Also, I only cut one finger and burned two others, so really, it was a great day.

Beets!

I love beets. Specifically, I love golden beets. They are definitely in the top 10 of my favorite foods (if one could have such a constricting list). And roasted golden beets are just about as good as it gets. I planted two rows of golden beets in the garden this year, and have been enjoying them immensely. For the last couple weeks we’ve had just three beets left. I’ve been waiting, wanting to draw this sad separation out as long as possible. It seems that when I pull them out of the ground, summer will officially come to an end.

Somehow, our soil is a.ma.zing. and everything just grows to gargantuan size. And tastes better than real life.

What to do with these hairy beasts once you pluck them from the ground? My favorite thing is to roast them and turn them into a Walnut Beet Salad. Last summer, I had the most delectable salad from PCC’s deli case. Like, beyond good. Heart stoppingly good. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. So, I found a contact email on their website, and asked if I could pretty please have this delicious recipe. He said yes! I was over the moon. But then, it’s one of those silly ‘bulk’ recipes - 25 pounds of beets, 4 cups of oil, 4 cups of balsamic, 2 TBSP salt etc. hmm. Well, I’ve fiddled with the proportions, and I think I’ve got it pretty good now.

First step. A short lesson on how to roast beets. (and I don’t just mean make fun of them for how ugly they are)

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Wash the beets. Pull the green tops off, trim off any hair or the little dangly thing at the bottom. Make a little basket thing out of tin foil. Pour some olive oil on and slather it around. (This makes the skin peel off easier when they’re done.)

Make a little tin foil lid for your tinfoil boat and seal it up.

Insert your tin foil package into the oven. The roasting time will depend on the size of the beets. These were so huge I definitely had to roast them for an hour and a half, maybe a bit longer. But earlier this year, I could roast beets in 30-45 minutes because they were just cute little guys. So, ya, roast the beets for 30-90 minutes, you can poke at them every now and then.

You thought beets couldn’t get any uglier, and then you went and roasted them. Yikes. I usually chop them into quarters at this point and then peel the skin off. It just slides right off. Pretty amazing.

Second Step.

Make the salad.
Adapted from PCC’s recipe

3 lbs Golden Beets

Red onion (just some slivers, less than 1/8 of the onion)

5-6 green onions, chopped

1/2 C chopped walnuts

1/4 C walnut oil (olive oil works too, but walnut oil is delicious and really adds to the flavor - I highly recommend it)

1/4 C balsamic vinegar

2 tsp dijon mustard

1/4 tsp salt

1/4 tsp black pepper

Once you’ve roasted and peeled your beets, chop them up into wedges or pieces or whatever strikes your fancy. Chop the onions. Assemble the oil, vinegar, mustard, salt and pepper into a dressing. Sprinkle the walnuts and onions over the beets and toss with the dressing. Voila.

Happiness, rainbows, hearts and unicorns in this bowl.