a day in the garden

Last Saturday, Ryan and I spent a few hours with my mother, strolling through her garden and then enjoying the best BBQ in Texas. I grew up in my mother's house, and every time I go back there the warmth of home overcomes me. Being home, for me, is zen.

And since my mother has poured so much love into her garden, it feels all the more wonderful to be there. The connection, on so many levels, to the earth--and not just any earth, but particularly the earth that my sister and brother and I grew up on--is so clear as we walk through the paths, lean down and touch the living greens, smell the soil and feel it underfoot. It is a living metaphor for all the things that have become so very important to me: sustainable food choices, the ability to nurture what God has so graciously given us, the peace and joy that come with harvesting, and a reminder of the connectivity of everything...plants, animals, human beings.

We brought home pounds upon pounds of vegetables, and this week I'll be showing you all the gorgeous, fresh food we enjoyed from my mother's garden.

My attempt to articulate how important and meaningful this is to me is quite futile...and the tele's on, so my level of distraction is running high. Let's just get to some photos, shall we?

Radicchio...a stunning natural form.  
Vegetable garden on the northeast side of the house... Here we have raised beds in every size, growing asparagus, sugar snap peas, dill, lettuce, kale, chard, strawberries, carrots, broccoli, mint, and more. 

When it's time for a crop's demise (this was a winter green), nature takes its course. Since my mom grows everything organic, her motto is, "You'd rather eat something peppered with holes than something covered in pesticides, wouldn't you?"
Here's the garden on the southern side of the house. Here, we've got onions, spinach, lettuce, turnips, and lots of spring plants that aren't quite up yet. 
A beautiful bed of lettuce varieties... 
Heirloom tomato and tomatillo seedlings thriving in the greenhouse, waiting to be transplanted.

Beautiful dill flowers. They look like tiny explosions in the sky.


A sugar snap pea blossom. It looks as sweet as the peas taste... 

I had to have my mom show me how to pull a turnip, and after a couple of tries, I finally got the hang of it.
A hint of the gardener behind a beautiful trumpet vine.
Not from the garden, but delicious nonetheless: brisket on white bread at Louie Mueller's. 
Asparagus peeking through... this year is only the roots' second, so there's not much to share; by next year, the asparagus should be flourishing. 
More heirloom tomato seedlings in tiny pots in the greenhouse.
Carrots, straight out of the dirt. They are tiny, but packed full of sweetness and vitamins. 
Turnips--beautiful, crunchy, tangy, and sweet. 
My mom and I. :)

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strawberry jam forever

When Ryan gave me the bread machine, I was pretty thrilled to see that aside from making breads, and doughs, and gluten-free goodies, it also had a jam and chutney setting. I'd never made homemade jam or jelly before, but with a couple of days stuck inside last week thanks to a springtime cold, I had to fill my latent hours with kitchen crafts.

So I washed and hulled two pounds of organic strawberries--picked up on sale at the local grocery for $2.99/pound--and tossed them in a dish. Based on recipes I'd read online, I came up with my own and added one cup of granulated sugar, the juice of one lemon, and one small package of pectin. Then I threw it all into the bread maker and set it to work. A couple of hours later, the mixture smelled sweet and delectable--but had bubbled over into the bread machine. This, I suppose, is the downside of leaving something to cook without any attention--things happen. Jams bubble over, for instance, and leave hot, sticky messes in your fancy bread machine that you have to clean up with a damp towel while wearing hot pads.

Like I said, things happen. But the end result was a tasty and sweet, albeit slightly watery, batch of organic strawberry jam. I made a batch of yummy two-ingredient biscuits and they were the perfect compliment to the jam. I spent $6 on strawberries, and about $2 on pectin and sugar and a lemon--and I got just about two pints of jam out of it. So if the average 8-ounce jar of organic strawberry jam costs about $5, I definitely saved a buncha dough by making it at home. Even with the trouble of cleaning up the mess it made, it was worth it. Next time I may make it the old-fashioned way, with my big red pot and a good ole wooden spoon.

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dog biscuits II: peanut butter crunchables

When I mention that I spend a couple hours of my free time once in a while making dog treats for my dog (and organic, for that matter), my words are usually met a grandiose roll of the eye. "You make treats for your dog???" they ask, as if I've just explained that yes, I've always had this second nose, and no, I'm not endowed with a superhuman olfactory sense.

The truth of the matter is, it's cheaper to make 'em than to buy 'em--for $8, you can buy a 1-pound bag of "all natural" dog treats. However, you've got to carefully read that label for any kind of funky fillers. But for about $2 at home (or less, possibly), you can make two pounds of treats with pantry staples.

Besides, making them at home is more fun. I enjoy being in the kitchen, but baking is a skill I'm still...um... working on (stay tuned later this week for my olive oil cake adventure). Why not practice on my canine cooking capabilities and spare Ryan the joy of playing guinea pig once in a while?

And how cute are those cookie cutters? I found them at Hobby Lobby for less than 50 cents. An unnecessary, but really cute, detail for homemade dog biscuits, especially for such a small price tag. 

Here's one of my--I mean, Fin's--favorite new recipes.Peanut Butter and Oatmeal Dog Treats (People: don't be afraid to try one, they're super tasty!)
Adapted from Petville

Biscuits:
1 cup water
1 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup cornmeal
1 tbsp sugar
1 tsp salt
1/2 cup skim milk
1/2 cup peanut butter
3 cups whole wheat flour


Egg wash:
1 large egg
2 tbsp. milk

Directions:

Preheat the oven to 325.

Bring water to boil in a small saucepan. Add oats and butter; stir together and let sit for ten minutes. Then stir in the cornmeal, sugar, salt, milk, and peanut butter. Mix thoroughly. Add the flour, one cup at a time (you may not need the entire amount) until a stiff dough forms.

Knead dough on floured surface until smooth, about 3 minutes. Roll to 1/4" thickness and shape with cookie cutters, or simply cut into squares. Place on a cookie sheet lined with parchment--no need to space out too far, since they don't spread or rise. Ready the egg wash (mix egg and milk together), then brush onto biscuits with pastry brush. 

Bake for 35-45 minutes or until golden brown. Cool completely, then toss one to your pup who's been anxiously waiting! Store in an airtight container for a couple of weeks or so. 

For a tropical twist, reduce the peanut butter to 1/3 cup and add one very ripe, mashed banana. Fin says yum!

These should turn out nice and crispy, but if they're on the soft side (it happened to me...) try adjusting your cooking temperature or time. You can also let them cool in the oven--they'll get dried out and will offer a nice crunch for your canine compadre. 

Fin knows where I've been keeping the new homemade treats, as does Ryan since I repurposed the human cookie jar for our dog, and now when I walk in that direction she starts doing her newest trick: the Fin Spin! 

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holy moly hot beans

You know how I like to tinker with recipes? Blatantly ignore the well-tested instructions heeded by countless others because I think my take on things might add a nice little punch? Well, in this case, it was more like being run over by a semi than landing a "nice little punch" on the tastebuds. 

Hailing from this great state, it's hard not to have an affinity for pinto beans, any style. I grew up eating them Nan Byfield style, simmered on the stove with saltpork and served with hot sweet cornbread and--this is the weird part--topped with spoonfuls of dill relish. Since I introduced Ryan to our family bean tradition, he's caught on and spread the love.

But he loves borracho beans; they're a souped-up version of pintos that don't get the relish treatment. We're still on the quest to replicate a restaurant version. The special thing about borracho beans is that they involve cilantro (R's favorite herb), chiptole peppers in adobo sauce (I'm trying to keep them stocked in the pantry), and a good Mexican beer (also something we'd like to keep stocked, if you get my drift!). This goes down in my books as the longest recipe ever, but two-thirds of that time spent was unattended. I soaked some organic pinto beans, bought for pennies on the dollar from the bulk bins at Whole Foods, overnight. Once I rinsed and drained them, I followed, in only the loosest sense of the word, fellow food blogger Homesick Texan's advice on making a pot of beans from start to finish.  

Well, turns out I should have followed it more closely. Should've thrown intuition out the window and held on dearly to caution. There were a couple of things I did differently, but only one of my subs took me from "good ole pot of Saturday beans" to "the pot that made me sob."

First sub: instead of the salt pork she calls for in her basic pinto bean recipe, I dumped in bacon. Not too bad--it cooked just fine and my first taste test yielded a salty, savory, supple bean. Since I didn't have commercial pickled jalapenos on hand--but I did have my mother's, which are known for being extra spicy--I poured in 1/4 cup of the juice and, for posterity's sake, a spoonful of the jalapenos. Good measure, anyone? This added a bit of a kick, but wasn't the culprit.

I probably also added a couple too many chipotle peppers in adobo, but those are mild and likely were not the cause of my tears.

No, no, it was definitely the serrano peppers I subbed for the fresh jalapenos in the "a la charra" section of the recipe. Not three serranos, just two...See those innocuous little slices, seeds and all, nestled gently in the valley between mountains of chipotles and cilantro? I don't believe that's a radon glow they're emitting. They packed so powerful a punch that I could feel spicy tears welling up as I cooked. I let the beans simmer on the stove for a few hours while we waited on a friend to show up. Then came the fateful ladling of the beans into bowls, and the spice-induced cursing I heard from Ryan in the other room. At first I thought it was a good "damn"--but I soon realized that this pot of pintos had it out for the acid-reflux afflicted digestive status of our company. Yes, we had company over for this explosion. Personally, since I tend to be a spice fiend, I enjoyed the tongue-slapping kick from the serranos. 

What about the chipotle skillet cornbread (not pictured because I am simply too embarrassed), you ask? Well, I didn't preheat the skillet correctly, and the cornbread was, for lack of a better explanation, a complete inedible flop that could not be salvaged.

Thankfully I had my margarita recipe to fall back on. Next time it's bean day, I'll be cutting back on the peppers--because really, I'm not a sadist...and nobody really needs that much capsaicin.

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Efficiency? I’ve got it.

A couple of days ago, we were blessed by the first drops of rain in what feels like ages. Seeing as how Texas is currently facing the worst drought in fifty years, the rain, which has continued through the week, has been something to celebrate. Just try explaining the need for precipitation to my dog, who has been inventing her own inside games this week, like "let's see how many toys we can collect in the middle of the floor".

In any case, the welcomed rain coupled with unwelcome 40-degree temperatures called for a hot pot of soup. Inspired by our impulse buy from the bulk bins at Sun Harvest a couple weekends ago, I did a quick search for wild rice recipes. The very first one that came up sounded like a winner: Cream of Turkey & Wild Rice Soup.

Of course, I could not just make this the way it said to... So here is my variation.

Creamy Chicken and Mushroom Soup with Wild Rice

A good glug of EVOO (approx. 2 tbls), plus 1 tbls butter
16 oz mushrooms (that’s right, I QUADRUPLED what the linked recipe called for, inadvertently)
4 stalks celery, chopped
4 carrots, chopped (some reserved for your carrot-loving canine)
1 medium onion, chopped
1/3 cup all-purpose flour
healthy dash of salt and pepper, to taste
4 cups organic chicken broth (I had to use store-bought, but more about that in a minute)
As much cooked wild rice as you want (I dumped in about 2 cups)
About two cups rotisserie chicken (no skin or bones), cut into small pieces
1/2 cup reduced-fat sour cream

First and foremost, cook your rice. Wild rice takes about 45 minutes to cook, so be sure to start off with that while you prep the rest. Or, cook according to the package (if you're using quick-cook, you can add it in with the stock and move on from there). Once you’ve got your rice going, chop your veggies (prepare the mire poix, if you will). Heat oil and butter in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add mushrooms, celery, carrots, and onions, and cook, stirring, until softened and aromatic. While that’s cooking, you can chop your chicken up.

Once the veggies are smellin’ flavorful, add flour, salt and pepper and cook, stirring, for a couple minutes more. You’ll want to be sure that flour gets nice and brown, and as soon as that starts to happen, add the broth and bring to a boil, scraping up all those delectable browned bits. Add cooked rice (plus a little of the rice broth if your soup is too thick), cubed chicken, and sour cream, and cook until heated through.

Serve piping hot with some nice, crusty bread. This is healthy and delicious, and makes enough to feed six or so. We even invited my sister over for an impromptu dinner, and had leftovers for dinner the next night.

~*~*~*~

Click on image to enlarge.

While cooking this, I realized it was a really great lesson in efficiency. Only one hour of prep work had me ready for two dinners, two lunches, and about three soup-sized pots of stock.

I’ve made my own stock a couple of times now, with great success. So when I bought the rotisserie chicken, I had great plans for it. The blueprints went something like this: soup for dinner, scraps for stock, a little celery and chicken set aside to make my favorite lunch--chicken salad--and start a loaf of bread to have with lunch and leftovers the next night.

I’m trying to create less waste in my kitchen, and use up every bite of food rather than tossing things. Stock is a fantastic way to use up even the peels of the onion. While prepping my veggies for the soup, I chopped a couple of extra stalks of celery for my chicken salad and set aside. The rest of the celery scraps went into the bag for stock. After washing the carrots and onion, I peeled both and tossed the peels in the stock pile. I ended up not throwing any of my veggie or chicken scraps in the trash; all of it went into the soup, into my salad, or was reserved for the stock. Can I get a WOW??

Turning to the chicken, I peeled off the skin and pulled the very tender meat from the bones. Most of it went into the soup, but since I like white meat, I did save one breast for my chicken salad. Of course, Fin got a couple of bites in her food bowl too. The chicken carcass went back into its plastic dome (extra skin and all) for the stock.

I managed to prep for dinner, the stock, and my lunch without creating too much of a mess. All accomplished in a highly efficient time frame—dinner was ready and the kitchen was mostly clean within an hour! This just goes to show that with a little foresight, you can come up with a great meal plan with very little work. Even if you’re as scatter-brained as me.

It helps to stick to your plan, too. Aside from the recipe-tinkering, which I absolutely refuse to give up, I stuck to my original idea and that made follow through a lot easier. I have a tendency to say, “Well, why don’t I just make cookies too, that won’t make too much of a mess...” and that’s the kind of thing that brings on the stress-induced eye twitches. Keep things simple, and that will make even the complicated evenings feel like a breeze.

This also lessened the burden for the next day's meals; lunches for two days were done, and we had enough soup (and bread) leftover for a hot dinner the next night too.

High five!

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snap cracker pop

A couple of weeks ago, on a whim (now really, does that surprise you?), I made crackers. Just your basic, run-of-the-mill, flour and water and salt crackers.

Let me tell you something....they were a smash hit. Probably one of the easiest recipes I've ever thrown together, it resulted in snappy, salty snacks that were tons better than their store-bought counterparts. And that's not all: at the cost of, oh, fifty cents, I made a batch of fresh crackers that would have cost (for organic and sea-salted, which is what I made at home) upwards of $2 or even $3.

This simple money-saving recipe is totally worth the 15 minutes. I can't wait to branch out into whole wheat, parmesan, cracked pepper... the possibilities are endless.

Where did this idea stem from? You guessed it... How to Cook Everything--thank you Mark Bittman. Here's a short adaptation of the recipe, but I recommend just going out and purchasing your own copy of this magnificent book. With all the publicity I'm shelling out, I ought to be getting free copies in the mail on a daily basis. ;)

Crackers, adapted from How to Cook Everything by Mark Bittman

Makes 4 servings, takes about 15 minutes

1 C all purpose flour, plus more as needed
1/2 tsp salt
2 tablespoons butter or neutral oil
1/4 cup water, plus more as needed

Heat the oven to 400. Lightly dust 2 baking sheets with flour or put a baking stone in the oven. Put the flour, salt, and butter/oil in the food processor. Pulse until the flour and butter are combined. Add the water; continue to add water a teaspoon at a time until the mixture holds together but is not sticky.

Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface until 1/4" or thinner (I rolled mine almost paper-thin), adding flour as needed. Score lightly with a sharp knife if you want to break the crackers into nice squares or rectangles later on.

Use a spatula, pastry blade, or peel to transfer the dough to the prepared baking sheets or stone. Sprinkle with sea salt or cracked pepper if desired. Bake until lightly browned, about 10 minutes. Cool on a rack; serve warm or at room temp, or store in a tin for up to a couple of days. (But trust me, they won't last that long.)

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stocking up on stock

The rumors are true: homemade stock is better than store-bought! So listen up, home cooks. Get out your pencils and take notes. This has become one of my favorite home kitchen tricks.

After reading what felt like a million articles about making stock at home, and tiring of forking over $3/quart for the organic stuff, I took Bittman's advice and opted to start making my own.

The first batch was veggie stock, and while I wouldn't call it devoid of flavor, it lacked something. Batch number two involved the leftover bones and bits from a store-bought rotisserie chicken. All the veggies in the fridge that we on their way out (celery and peppers), as well as some carrot peels, onion skins and roots, garlic cloves, and a big handful of parsley from the garden made their way into the stock pot with the chicken carcass.

I let this simmer for a couple of hours, adding water as necessary. Part of the beauty of homemade stock is that the completely uninvolved cooking process makes your whole home smell like chicken soup. Once it was done simmering, I strained it (made easy by the pasta cooker insert that came with my stock pot). If you don't have a pasta insert, you can use cheesecloth (wrap your scraps in it, and toss it in the stock pot like a giant tea bag) or simply strain your stock through a colander at the end. Some folks like to skim out the fat; I don't cook with a lot of fat, so I just left it in. Maybe the next batch I'll try that, though.

Since the point of making stock is to have it on hand for recipes, I had decided to test several ways to freeze it. Once it cooled to room temp, I carefully ladled some into plastic baggies (1-quart as well as gallon sized). Then I ladled some into plasticware containers of different sizes; even though I tried to swear them off, they're just too useful for storage! BPA-free is the best I can do. Finally, I poured some into ice cube trays and popped them back in the freezer.

Personally I liked the ease of the ice cube-shaped stock; they thawed very quickly, and at two ounces a pop were easy to measure. But since we only have four ice trays and generally need them all for actual ice cubes, that idea didn't gain much steam. I purchased about 6 new BPA-free plastic containers, in sizes from 4-cup to 6-cup, and filled each of those. With a little bit of thawing time, the stock pops right ought and can be heated really quickly on the stovetop. Plastic bags did not work at all--they took the most time (and running water) to thaw, and if the stock froze the wrong way, it trapped folds of plastic in between it, making for a very difficult de-thawing process.

That's the long of it. The short of it? Simmer scraps for two hours in the biggest pot you got, cool to room temp, and store in BPA-free plastic containers in your freezer until the next soup night!

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missin' the kitchen

howdy, faithful blog readers! once each month, i hit a lull in the cooking--this month it was due to an unfortunately spicy pot of beans, coupled with deadline and a trip to wisconsin for a press ok (which is where i'm writing from right now). but it hasn't been all failures in the kitchen; stay tuned for a brush-up on the peanut butter dog biscuits (a hit!) and a note about roasted chicken.

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