a tale of two lettuce

I ordered seeds from a few different places, and also bought some at big-box stores (the stuff I forgot to order from the nice seed place). Seeds from Italy has beautiful seed packets. I was inspired to order from them based on a mention on one of my favorite blogs, Gardenrant. The color photos on the large Franchi seed packets are so sharp and mouth-wateringly beautiful, they look almost three-dimensional. That is one reason why I was disappointed by the performance of one luscious-looking lettuce, by the sexy name 'Passion Brune.' If this is brunette passion, I can see why gentlemen prefer blondes.* Its green cousin is pumping out huge leaves, but ma brune didn't even sprout consistently. See photo evidence below.

Above, growing in the right-most cells, is 'Regina di Maggio,' about two weeks out, nicely sized and healthy. See that empty cell in the front on the left, and the one behind it with a puny runt of a wee sprout? That's the 'Passion Brune.' Humph. 

Here's another view of the wrinkled, freckled little things. I might get a few plants from them, but out of the 10 seeds planted I have about 5 puny plants, which is not happy returns. 

Happily, all of the other Franchi-brand seeds--parsley, basil, and the radicchio 'Orchidea Rossa' are looking wonderful. I am particularly happy about the radicchio, as it is so expensive in the supermarket (I mean the one variety of burgundy-and-cream brains that you can find typically), and there are many neat plants in the chicory family with all sorts of interesting colors out there. If this one does well, I'll try growing other types, too, for a wonderfully bitter and colorful salad (I like to pair radicchio/endive/chicory with a sweet (citrus, or perhaps pear) fruit and/or creamy-sharp cheese like Stilton or goat feta).

This is the promise of 'Orchidea Rossa.' If mine don't look like this, I'll hold myself responsible. How could I resist? Tantalizingly, a note pasted to the back of the packet says that the plant looks better in person. How?

*I know many passionate brunettes. I am one. Perhaps it is only brunette lettuce that lack luster? 

delicious melon smoothie

Whenever I have melons, even though M. and I love them, there always seems to be quite a bit left over. So, I've gotten into the habit, whenever I cut into a melon, of placing a generous third of the melon (of whatever kind) into a ziplock bag in the freezer. Because melon is a soft fruit, I've never found it a problem to break the frozen melon apart, so it's easy. Chuck some in the freezer, some into a covered bowl in the fridge for breakfasts and snacking, and voila, no waste.

Then I discovered that nice ripe melon that is frozen makes a great element in smoothies. This is not revolutionary in any sense, but it's been a tasty, practical habit. I've been making peach-melon, strawberry-melon, avocado-melon smoothies all summer. Herewith, I share my secret. This recipe is not hard-and-fast at all. I often add yoghurt. Coconut milk yoghurt is especially nice. There is a passionfruit-mango flavor that, mixed with the ubiquitous banana and melon, makes for a nice "tropical" flavor.

Melon Smoothie (basic)


1 cup milk/unsweetened soymilk
1 ripe banana
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
large handful frozen melon (I used a mixture of Cantalope and Catawba, what I happened to have on hand)
1 tablespoon agave nectar


Blend thoroughly in blender. If you add another fruit, adjust liquid.

M. and I are in the middle of packing for our move October 1st. Stay tuned for posts about our recent wedding and other much-belated news.
 

fiddlehead foraging frolic!

Early May is the time when I always think of the luxuriant fiddlehead patch behind my dear grandmother's last home in Center Sandwich. It was on Mother's Day weekend when I first came upon this patch while walking in the woods with my sister: a low, damp area a bit too dry to be called swampy, but decidedly squishy and messy on the shoes. Intrigued by the funny-looking curls popping up seemingly straight out of the ground, we brought my parents out to see. Little did I know these curlicues were edible, but I knew after my parents became excited about them, and harvested a bowl for dinner.
Fiddleheads, as the edible parts are known, are the infant fronds of the majestic Ostrich Fern (Matteuccia struthiopteris), a large fern which grows from erect crowns in damp places and spreads by rhizomes to eventually form large stands, if conditions are right. The Ostrich Fern prefers dappled shade but because of its stature needs an area free from underbrush where its 3-4 ft fronds can grow unimpeded. It is a native of northern North America, and it is also grown in gardens as an ornamental, forming a beautiful backdrop for shade perennials. Ostrich Fern prefers acidic soil, a consideration if you want to plant it in your garden because you will likely need a soil amendment to help alter the soil pH.

Cindy's ferns: for looking only, not for picking!

Here in Ithaca, my aunt Cindy has a beautiful patch of Ostrich Ferns in the back of the backyard. It is shady, it is acidic, it is open, and the fiddleheads are popping up like a whole orchestra right now. Later, she and I will rip up the garlic mustard that always threatens to shade the fronds before they are big enough to fend for themselves (I've always thought it unfair that such an annoying weed has the names of two of my favorite food items). I think we both feel protective of that patch. She feels especially protective, of course, and so I am not allowed to harvest any of them. I have solemnly promised that I will not. However, they serve as a useful barometer. When I saw how fast those fiddleheads, which come up all crowded together at the head of the crown, were unfurling, I ran off to a few likely locations and made a small harvest. I'm not sure I can reveal where I found them, because the location might not be entirely legal, but I promise it was nobody's private garden. In any case, a traditional Yankee sense of secrecy seals my lips where forage locations are concerned.

unfurling frond sheds its brown coat

If you would like to search for fiddleheads yourself, keep in mind the growing conditions they prefer, as I describe above. You should also be careful to choose the right species of fern, as there are many other fern fronds unfurling at this time of year. They can look similar, but there are a few details that help the edible fiddleheads stand apart. Ostrich Fern fiddleheads are bright, clear green, and smooth. When they first emerge they are covered with a translucent chestnut-brown coat that easily flakes off. The fiddleheads of other fern species might have a brown coat, but the coat will be lighter in color and more closely clinging. A note: you should pick only as much as you will eat that day, as fiddleheads become bitter if frozen and are tastiest eaten on the day of picking.

While I was looking for fiddleheads, I also came across a small but healthy stand of ramps. My landscape colleague Jenna, of The Mushroom Forager, had generously given me a bunch of ramps earlier that day. Once I had smelled their sweet perfume and had seen their vividly green leaves, I had caught the bug. I wanted to search some out for myself. I can tell you, Ithacans, that if you take a walk along upper Fall Creek, you will almost certainly see some ramps. Please, please harvest them responsibly (a mantra repeated and practiced by Jenna and Ari). I have also since learned that ramps may be available to plant in your garden, though I do not know the success rate. Cindy found some for sale today and planted them near the Ostrich Ferns. Part of me is a little nervous that they may have been dug up from the wild for nursery sale.
With my ramp haul doubled, I had enough to use in making dinner that night (and of course, I was in the mood to cook with my goodies!). Here is a recipe for one of my favorite meals at this time of year (I know! I haven't posted a recipe in ages). This recipe takes a short amount of prep in terms of chopping and mixing, and once you start cooking it takes only half an hour to put it on the table.

Ramps, rinsed and ready

Pasta Primavera with Ramps, Asparagus, & Bacon
To feed four generously.

2 big handfuls ramps (approx. 2.5 packed cups very roughly chopped ramps, or double the amount in the photo above)
1 bunch asparagus, tough ends snapped off, cut into bite size pieces
8 strips thick-cut bacon (or desired amount, I include a little extra for noshing while cooking)
1 box mezzi rotini pasta (or other shape pasta of your choice)
2 tablespoons butter
1/2 cup bread crumbs
2 tablespoons grated Asiago or Parmigiano Reggiano cheese 
3 eggs, beaten
salt and pepper to taste
olive oil or vegetable oil

Other: large serving bowl

Put a large pot of water for pasta on to boil.
Ready a vegetable steamer insert in a medium saucepan with an inch of water, and put the asparagus in this pan on medium-high heat, covered, for 7 minutes.
Put a large pan (non-stick if possible) over medium-high heat, add 1 tablespoon olive oil, and sauté ramps until wilted and stems are tender, about 5 minutes. Add a small pinch of salt and stir frequently. Set ramps aside on a plate.
When asparagus is done, drain immediately and set aside on plate with ramps.
Preheat oven to 350.
Melt butter in microwave or on stovetop. Using a fork, mix butter with breadcrumbs and add cheese. Spread on a cookie sheet and hold in readiness.
Cook bacon (can use same pan as for ramps) until crispy.
At this point, put buttered cheesy breadcrumbs into oven for 3 minutes (careful, they burn quickly!)
When pasta is cooked al dente (I like it a hair beyond al dente, really), quickly and thoroughly drain, then invert pasta into large serving bowl. Immediately add eggs and stir well, so eggs cook on the hot pasta. Add vegetables and crumble bacon into pasta. Stir well. Take breadcrumbs out of oven, and distribute over top of the pasta. Enjoy!

I recommend a cold Pinot grigio or light beer with this dish. I myself had Sam Adams Noble Pils, which is lemony and refreshing.

 Now I want to try Jenna's recipe for ramp pesto! It sounds delicious!

la versaillaise

la Versaillaise

Today was the fin des fraises, si triste. Most of them had stopped producing, so we ripped them out to make way for leeks. I felt as though I should say a few words in homage. I arrived here at the height of the strawberry season, which was sadly diminished by a cold and rainy spell. We saw them at their peak, we cleaned up the rotten berries with chagrin. They were tasty while they lasted! The only strawberries left are the rare, the incomparable, the Versaillaises. This variety is so delicate we cannot pick it to sell in la boutique here at the Potager du Roi, because it would no longer be good eating an hour after picking. The Versaillaise strawberry is small, half red or pink and half white. It is often slightly deformed. It is not a pretty strawberry. It doesn't have to be, its flavor is incredible--as if someone had taken a whole kilo of strawberries and crammed them into one tiny strawberry, with an added flavor that is almost alcoholic, like a sweet liquor. They are more sucrée, too, than other strawberries. Amazing.

I think the intense heat we've had for the last week has further concentrated the sweetness of the Versaillaises. Other fruits, like peaches, currants, and raspberries, are quickly ripening. Yesterday, having received at last official permission to harvest from the garden whatever I would like for my meals, I went grocery shopping. Evening songbirds were singing from the tops of espalier, swallows were tittering and swooping everywhere, and the sun was setting over the Pièce d'Eau Suisses as I walked through the Grand Carré of the Potager. I felt deliciously overwhelmed. Eventually I took a few early turnips, courgette, spinach, parsley, and white peaches. Oh! picking peaches off the tree! They are so fuzzy and tender... Mmmmm. I was tempted by the artichokes but would like them to be a little bigger. I am spoiled by garden riches! Not to mention the French supermarkets in general... even the little 8 à huit convenience store around the corner has treasures of cheese, sorbet, and jams. They have a Poilâine bread stand in the 8 à huit, for goodness sake! I found shrimp--big, juicy whole cooked shrimp--at Monoprix today, 10 for about $3! I only needed 5 of them to make a meal. I ate them with fresh potatoes that I dug up myself, with a sauce of fromage blanc and shallots.
Did I mention the incredible $4 bottles of wine?
To paraphrase Nathan Detroit: "So hate me, hate me, go ahead hate me, I love you." Wish you all could come visit!

post edited by Liz on 11/14/2010

eye candy

Various cookies in the window of Junior's in Brooklyn. I left nose marks.

Cakes in the window of Junior's (+ reflections of Flatbush Ave.)

Evening shadows stretch across the Long Meadow in Prospect Park.
Notice the artist with easel on the left side.

a dumpling day, and later, chestnuts

Saturday was the beginning of fall break, and it started out gray and chilly--a dumpling sort of day. Anyone who knows me pretty well knows that I love gyoza--Japanese potsticker dumplings. They are very easy to make, and great party food. Plus, they are not so bad for you, as you use only 2 tblsp oil and can use a lean cut of pork, or substitute ground turkey, chicken, or tofu (though the taste will not be the same). I thought the Bradburys (my family-away-from-family) would like dumplings, so I decided to make them for lunch. I went out and bought round dumpling wrappers from the local asian-food shop.

Pork Gyoza
Equipment: 1 large non-stick pan with lid
Ingredients:
-round rice-flour dumpling wrappers
-filling: 1 bunch scallions, 1 knob ginger root, 1 peeled carrot, ~2 lbs pork (I usually use ground pork, but that was not available so I used two packages of "stir fry pork" and cut it into 1/4" dice), and the leafy part of the Napa cabbage.
-sauce: 1/2 cup soy sauce, 1 tblsp hot sauce, 2 tblsp sweet/sour duck sauce.
Instructions: Finely chop the cabbage and scallion (white part and as most of the tender green part), grate the ginger (peel it first w/a vegetable peeler), shave the carrot into thin strips, dice the pork (or not if using ground pork), and mix it all well in a large bowl. Season with salt and pepper (not too much salt as there will be salt in your sauce).
Prepare your dumpling wrapping station: 1 small bowl of water. Dumpling wrappers. Plate. Get another person to help you. Put a dumpling wrapper on the plate. Dip your finger in the water. Run your wet finger around the inside edge of the dumpling wrapper to make a 1/2" wide damp area. Put a small amount (~tblsp) of filling in the center of the dumpling wrapper. Fold the wrapper in half and pick it up, holding and pressing the wet edges together. Crimp the edges of the wrapper together, pressing firming (to make a fan-like shape, see photo). Add a touch more water if the edges are not sticking. Don't worry if your first efforts are ugly. The important thing is that the filling be contained (no holes). Cover the wrappers if you take a break--they dry out quickly. There will be enough filling to use the whole package of wrappers, plus a little left over.
Mix sauce ingredients in a small bowl.
Cooking: This is easier with a non-stick pan, or better yet, a multi-tiered bamboo steamer. I will assume you do not have a steamer (since if you do you probably know how to make dumplings already). Heat 2 tblsp canola or peanut oil in a large non-stick pan. Adjust heat to medium-high. Add as many dumplings as will fit, leaving 1" of space between dumplings. Immediately jiggle pan and loosen dumplings with a spatula to prevent sticking. Continue jiggling pan frequently for 2 min. to heat dumplings through and coat with oil. Add 1 cup water and cover pan. Steam for 4 minutes, or until dumpling skin is translucent and dumplings have puffed slightly.
Transfer to plate/serve to hungry person(s) and make another batch.
These really are easiest to eat using chopsticks, as forks tear the dumpling skin and the filling spills out.
When I had finished making the dumplings, and had managed to snag a few for myself (they disappeared very quickly), the sun came out. Cindy and I went to the Cornell Orchards and bought apples, paw-paws, and cider (Cornell cider is THE BEST I have ever tasted). I bought some cider and apples for my parents, whose arrival was expected that afternoon. On the way back, we decided to stop at the Plantations Arboretum to see if the chestnuts had dropped. A few weeks ago we saw a woman poking in the leaf litter under these trees, and we asked her what she was doing. She seemed shy and a bit reluctant, but admitted that these were indeed the edible type of chestnuts. "Are they good?" we asked. She paused. "Yes. They are good to eat." She was looking for nuts very earnestly in the pouring rain. We resolved to come back when more nuts were ripe.
Many more nuts had fallen when we went back, but it looked as though a few other people had hunted for them. The husks are too spiny to handle (you'd need thick leather gloves), but the shiny brown nuts easily popped out when we prodded and squished the husks with our feet. Most of the husks on the ground had been similarly squished. The nuts were pretty small, but we gathered about 3 cups of them. Back at the house, I scored the shell of each nut at its pointy end and graded them into larger and smaller batches. Last night we roasted them on a cookie sheet, for 10 minutes in a 400 degree oven. They were delicious. Because they were small, the skin was thin and peeled off easily. They were sweet and had a flavor reminiscent of pistachio nut and winter squash. The flesh was somewhat mealy, but in my experience with chestnuts the flesh is always somewhat mealy.
Note: I should point out that these are chestnuts from the Chinese Chestnut tree (Castanea mollissima). Horse chestnuts (Aesculus hippocastanum) are not for human consumption. Always be SURE of the identity of the tree (if possible verify with an expert) before eating any of its fruit.
The rest of the weekend was really nice. Parents finally arrived after taking "the scenic route" (i.e. getting impressively lost) and we had a late dinner at Moosewood (mmmm dark chocolate ricotta mousse). Sunday I woke them up early, plied them with coffee, tea, and fresh pastries from Ithaca bakery, and whisked them off to Taughannock Falls for a morning hike on the gorge trail. We stopped at the farmers market for a good while, and then to the Bradburys for a luxurious brunch. Peter is the consumate brunch chef. We had pancakes, sausage, bacon, eggs, fruit, coffee, tea, cake, and leftover dumplings. Then everyone digested as I drove to Watkins Glen. My father and Becky took hundreds of photos. It was a brilliant day.

Ode to a cookie

Si simple, et quand même si séduisant, this little biscuit.
He comes from a pâtisserie on Mont St. Michel in Normandy, France.
He is made of good French flour, Normandy butter (best butter in the world, some say), sugar, and lemon. Maybe a little salt.

Yes, he is enclosed in what seems like excessive packaging, but only imagine his journey across the ocean, and this does not seem so excessive. It keeps his crumb supple.
And what a crumb:

He is like a miniature tart, no? A tart with soft lemony filling, gently caramelized on top. At two inches across, he is a very mini tart. So he does not induce much guilt after eating.

He has companions, also: similarly tart-shaped, but filled instead with chocolate. Is it just chocolate, or is there also a flavor of noix de coco? I prefer the lemon, though.

The delivery man is very sweet, too. He deserves his own separate ode, however.

oatmeal kitchen sink cookies

As in "everything but the ________."

Oatmeal Kitchen Sink Cookies
(adapted from a recipe I found online, I changed the flour amount and added more interruptions,* so I now consider the recipe to be my creation)

Ingredients:
1 stick butter, softened
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup white sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
3 cups quick-cooking oats
3/4 cup chopped nuts (pecans, walnuts, hazelnuts)
1/2 cup raisins (opt. if you don't like raisins, if so increase nuts to 1 cup)
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1 teaspoon cinnamon (opt.)

Directions:
1. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F (165 degrees C)
2. In a large bowl, cream together softened butter and sugars with an electric beater. Beat in eggs one at a time. Beat in vanilla.
3. In another bowl, combine flour, baking soda, and salt. Stir into the butter/sugar mixture until just blended.
4. With a large spoon or stiff spatula, mix in oats 1 cup at a time, nuts, raisins, and chocolate chips. Dough will be stiff but it will all come together, I promise.
5. Drop dough onto UNGREASED cookie sheets in ping pong ball size spoonfuls. Tap each cookie lump just a little on top to flatten slightly.
6. Bake for 12 minutes in the preheated oven. Cookies should be just golden brown. Let cookies rest on the cookie sheet for 5 minutes, then remove to a wire rack to cool.

Notes:
-It is important that the butter be softened or the cookies will lose their shape in the oven. Stick the unwrapped butter on a place in the microwave for 10 sec intervals, 30 sec total--don't do 30 sec altogether or the butter will explode, trust me.
-You can make the cookies in bigger than ping pong ball size lumps, just extend baking time a little. The original recipe called for "heaping spoonfuls." I guess my heaping spoonfuls were more generous than hers, because my cookies were huge. Also if you make bigger cookies, flatten them more before baking.

*interruptions are what a friend of mine calls ice cream add-ins.

Birds and recipe (as two discrete subjects)

Just after Christmas, Mike and I flew off to Evansville, IN for a friend's wedding, and after that (thoroughly moving, delightful, enjoyable) time drove to Nashville, TN to stay with his uncle for a few days. We visited Cheekwood, an estate in the suburbs of Nashville, on a beautiful day that felt like early spring. We peeled off layers, lifted our chins to soft breezes, and greedily soaked up the sunshiny warmth. Meanwhile the mansion still displayed gigantic, gaudy Christmas trees (the child in Mike loved the tinsel and humongous ornaments, we both liked the electric train around one of the trees), and the garden was woefully bare. In the absence of lush, blanketing green, we noticed shapes, colors, and smells that we might have missed in summer. I think this effect accounts partly for why we especially liked the bamboo grove in the Japanese garden, pointed out interesting bark to each other (Mike is very tolerant/indulgent of my plant geekyness), and why we spent a while in the herb garden crushing morsels of the plants and offering them to one another to smell (okay, I picked them and offered them to Mike, while he chastised me teasingly for my casual thievery).
A side note: Mike has an amazing sense of smell, and often notices shades of scent that I miss entirely. He could be a parfumeur.
As we wandered into the last garden that day, we heard a cacophony of birdsong. Birds are such a nice surprise in winter! They are still so active and quick while everything else is dormant or sleepy. We saw a few tiny birds in the shrubs of this garden, but since we are unfamiliar with southern birds we called them all warblers. A lot of them probably were warblers, though I think I saw a house finch too (they have those twitchy tails that are almost perpendicular to their bodies, right?). As we continued wandering we learned that this garden was designed to attract birds (duh). There was even a little hut in the garden with nice illuminated informational placards.
I've often wanted to know how to identify more birds by their songs, so I tried to read "The Singing Life of Birds" by Donald Kroodsma (a visiting fellow at Cornell Lab of Ornithology). It is a well written book but does not seem to be intended for the casual reader, as it is very densely scientific (i.e. urging you to study shades of difference in sonograms to learn birdsong). Are there any learn-birdsong books that are easy to understand? I am also frustrated with books that say things like "sounds similar to eastern grosbeak, only more shrill and more frequently repeated." So I suppose I need something in between. Maybe I should stick to that audio guide my family has somewhere...

The Omelet

For breakfast on Christmas morning, I made everyone customized omelets. I fancy myself a pretty good omelet maker. Herewith and for one time only, I reveal the secrets of my omelet-making success.

THE PAN: I like a small pan. It does not have to be an "omelet pan" per se. I used a 8.5 inch anodized aluminum Calphalon pan.

THE FLIPPING UTENSIL: I like the flat plastic spatula made by Oxo. It is flexible and about 4 inches wide by 1/8 inch thick. Your utensil should be able to easily slide under the eggs, so flexibility is nice.

THE EGGS: Fresh as you can get them. Two (not three), large.

THE FAT: butter and olive oil together. Approximately 3/4 tablespoon of each per omelet (I confess that I have a bad habit of eyeballing my measurements).

THE SECRET: 1 tablespoon, no more, of sparkling water from a freshly opened bottle. The bottle should be room temperature and I usually use club soda. This, plus a teaspoon (aka small dollop) of cream, is all I add to the eggs, initially. The sparkling water makes the egg mix puff up a bit when it hits the hot pan, making for a lighter-textured omelet.

THE ADD-INS: Like making stir-fry, everything must be ready, mise-en-place style, so you can attend fully to the cooking of the eggs and the temperature of the pan. I suggest crumbled soft goat cheese, grated gruyère/emmentaler, pre-sautéed mushrooms/onions, roasted red pepper, morsels of cooked ham, chopped green olives (not cocktail olives, preferably French picholine or Spanish "queen"), a mix of herbs (flat parsley, cilantro, tarragon, thyme). And don't add too much filling! There should be space for the egg to flow around and envelop the add-ins.

RECIPE:
1) In a small bowl, beat eggs with a fork just until the yolks are broken and the yolk/white is swirled together. About 5 vigorous rotations of the fork should do it. Add cream, swirl once with fork.
2) Attend to your pan. Before adding fat, turn the heat on to high, wait 10 seconds, then turn it down a tad to between high and medium-high. Add fat. Swirl fat around the pan with the spatula.
3) Add 1 tablespoon (no more!) sparkling water to egg mixture. Swirl once with fork. Pour egg mix into pan. Try not to splash it up the sides of the pan. Working quickly, sprinkle the egg mix with salt and pepper. Jiggle the pan gently, then as egg mix sets, begin to work your spatula under the edge of the egg mix and jiggle the pan some more. The point is to ensure that the egg does not stick to the pan.
4) Add filling. Avoid clusters of filling. Distribute filling evenly over the egg mix (not in a line, taco style).
NOTE: steps 3-4 should take no more than 2-3 minutes.
5) When the egg mix STILL IS WET AND UNSET IN THE MIDDLE, BUT ITS EDGES HAVE SET SLIGHTLY, slide your spatula under one half of the egg mix. In a smooth not-too-fast movement, fold the omelet in half. Count to 5. Flip the whole omelet over in the pan. Count to 5 again. Flip it onto a plate. Keep warm in an oven until ready to eat.

catching up

Two huge projects due next week, two huge projects which both mean a lot to me. My head is spinning.

For now, some catching-up in photo form. What has Liz been up to? In sum:

Fall Break: hiking up Taughannock Gorge on 10/11














Making tasty food when she has time:









steak au poivre with red wine reduction, accompanied by rice pilaf, haricots verts and butternut squash (for Mike and myself when he came to visit me over fall break)











omelet with picholine olives, roasted-tomato salsa, and goat cheese











miso chicken broth with soba noodles, shitakes, green pepper, and roasted butternut squash

Walking through autumn mist on the way to class:



















In other news, I have moved my orchids and maidenhair fern inside for the winter. They are now hanging out in my bedroom by a southwest facing window. I just have to remember to open the curtains for them before I leave for the day. Fortunately my bedroom is the coolest room in the house so it's not bad for plants, not too dry. Also I have acquired a new orchid, an oncidium. It is about to bloom.

Avgolemono!

I made this deeelicious soup last night. It is perfect for cold weather and I suspect would be very nourishing if one had a cold. It is also surprisingly good left over, I say surprisingly because it even seems to improve the next day.
I will post the recipe when I get a minute sometime (ha ha). I tweaked the recipe a tiny bit. I think because I love eggs that I would add an additional egg yolk next time, if I was feeling extra indulgent, to thicken the broth a little more. Also, because the egg flavor is so important, I would use really good eggs.
This is not a "normal" avgolemono soup, because it includes zucchini. I also want to try asparagus and dill, including tiny bits of sausage, carrots and celery, etc... really its just a great soup base. Also I think it could easily be made with pearl barley instead of white rice.

pauvre appareil numérique

My digital camera has pretty much bitten the dust. The forward/back buttons for reviewing photos on the camera do not work. Neither do the flash selection buttons or macro setting buttons work, since they are the same as the forward/back buttons. Add to that the lag time which has seemed to increase as the camera aged, not to mention the very poor low-light performance and the nonexistent motion stabilizing... and you have a useless piece of digital equipment. A moment of silence, please...
My blog will display greatly diminished photo whimsy for now.
Sadly, this also means that my dear readers will not be able to view the cute apple clafoutis I made this past weekend as a treat for Mike and me. But I have a recipe:

Mini Apple Clafoutis

fruit:
2 fresh apples: one Granny Smith, the other red cooking (I used McIntosh)

custard:
2 eggs
3/4 cup milk
1/3 cup half and half
pinch cinammon
dash nutmeg
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon edible lavender flowers (optional)

Accompaniment: Vanilla Ice Cream

special equipment: 1/2 cup ramekins, set of 4

Instructions: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Halve and seed apples (I use a melon baller). Do not peel. Cut into ~1/4 thick bite size pieces.
Butter ramekins. Fill 3/4 full with assorted apple pieces. You will have excess apple to snack on. Place ramekins in a casserole pan.
Whisk eggs well. Add about 3/4 cup of milk and 1/3 cup half and half (sorry, I didn't measure, I'll post more accurate measurements when I make it again). Whisk to combine. Add sugar, spices, and lavender. Whisk again.
Dole out the custard evenly among the ramekins.
Use a teapot to carefully add water to the casserole, surrounding the ramekins with water about halfway up their sides.
Bake for 20 minutes or until light brown on top. Serve warm, with vanilla ice cream.

Chef's notes: I might try making this with the asian pears I just picked. And you could change it a little by adding citrus zest and omitting the lavender.

Happily, though my digital camera is dying, another major machine in my life, my yellow velo, is back on its wheels and all 8 gears. Working in tandem (har har), Mike and I tinkered for a bit and fortunately it didn't take long to locate the problem (cable too tight, probably because it got cold out and the metal shrank), and solve it.

dogwood jelly

A success! Very tasty.

Corneliancherry Dogwood Jelly (edited 9/13/2011)
(make sure the fruit you gather is from Cornus mas. I'd advise looking it up in a plant ID book and making sure you have the right kind of tree before you embark on eating any of the fruit)
Makes 6 cups of jelly

• 4 packed cups of Cornus mas fruit (measure after you pass whole fruit roughly through a food processor or blender)
• 1 cup water
  
• 7 cups sugar
• 1 packet of SureJell
• 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/8 teaspoon nutmeg, freshly grated
  
• canning jars (with two-part lid)
• Fine mesh strainer
  

Instructions: Set fruit and water to boil in a large saucepan over high heat. Meanwhile, boil water and wash canning jars all over with boiling water.
When fruit and water mix is at a boil, turn heat down. Measure sugar and SureJell together into a bowl, then sprinkle into fruit mixture while stirring. Stir until sugar and SureJell are fully incorporated. Add cinnamon and freshly grated nutmeg. Simmer for 5 minutes more.
Strain fruit mixture through fine mesh strainer into a large bowl. Press on the fruit solids to remove as much liquid as you can. Ladle jelly liquid into canning jars. To clarify the jelly further, you can use cheesecloth or a small strainer as you ladle the liquid into the canning jars at this step.
Immediately as you fill each jar, wipe each jar rim with a moist cloth kitchen towel and twist the lids just into place. Wipe the jars down of any jelly liquid which has dripped on the outside. As the jars cool, continue to gently tighten the lids. Some of the jars may seal on their own (you will hear a *pop* as they seal and the lid will be concave on top). If you want to be sure your jars seal, process in boiling water per directions in SureJell packet or your canning equipment. Be sure to refrigerate until use any jars that do not seal. Cool on the counter for 30 minutes before storing.

scavenging

As most of my friends and family know, I really enjoy finding and eating wild edibles. Surprisingly, this has never resulted in a trip to the hospital. So I was happy to discover that the Cornell campus affords a veritable buffet. During my first week I poached some verbena from the Plantations herb garden. I had to restrain myself from picking the corn in the agricultural demonstration garden.
One of the plants I have to memorize for tomorrow's quiz on Cornus, Deutzia, and Viburnums is Cornus mas, or Corneliancherry Dogwood. This plant bears many red fruits which, I learned during class, are edible! Sadly, they are extremely tart. So I am going to make jam out of them. This time I'm going to learn from making fig jam (fig syrup, really), and add pectin. And a lot of sugar. Eating one of these darlings is like munching on an extra sour candy. Except more sour.