I realize I am seriously overdue for knitting pics, so I decided to kill three proverbial birds with one stone.
On the upper left is the roll-brim hat I knitted with homespun yarn and handwritten instructions from Liz. It came out significantly larger than I expected, even the second time around, so I felted it slightly. Now it fits the s.o. pretty well, although *pout* it is still a bit too large for me. The s.o. loves it--the picture doesn't do the lovely coppery heathered color a bit of justice.
On the upper right is my first sock ever, almost completed. The final Socks By Magic Loop class is tomorrow evening. We'll be doing the toe, of course. Can I just say how stunned and amazed I am at how well this sock fits me? It is a thing of beauty. I only hope I can make another one that comes close to matching it.
The bottom piece was my vacation project: the Cherry Garcia cabled neck tube from Hello Yarn. I picked the project because it looked like an easy, self-contained way to learn how to knit cables, and indeed it was! I knitted it mostly on the beach, using Ironstone Yarns bulky yarn in "Harmony." I still have another skein of it, so I may ask my instructor to help me figure out how to make a cabled hat to match it.
Monday, March 13, 2006
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Spring has sprung
It seems like our spring vacation is a sort of dividing point every year. We leave while it's still winter, and we come home to find it 83 and sunny with blossoms exploding everywhere.
I spent the entire day outdoors, fertilizing and digging. I planted a ginormous rhubarb root that Maggie sent me (I can't thank you enough, my friend, and I'm glad you're feeling better), and I made major improvements to the garden, filling in new seeds where old ones hadn't germinated or had been done in by slugs and bugs. I started entire new rows of lettuces, arugula, and tendergreen mustard. I moved some indoor starts to the greenhouse.
I picked a cabbage for slaw, and tomorrow we'll be having pasta with some of the winter arugula crop.
The s.o. fired up the mower and did his first lawn-cutting of the year. He grumbles good-naturedly about the early spring mowings because he has to circumscribe all the clumps of naturalized daffodils that have lived here longer than we have.
Never a dull moment around here. The good news is that you can garden all year 'round. The bad news is that you can garden all year 'round.
I spent the entire day outdoors, fertilizing and digging. I planted a ginormous rhubarb root that Maggie sent me (I can't thank you enough, my friend, and I'm glad you're feeling better), and I made major improvements to the garden, filling in new seeds where old ones hadn't germinated or had been done in by slugs and bugs. I started entire new rows of lettuces, arugula, and tendergreen mustard. I moved some indoor starts to the greenhouse.
I picked a cabbage for slaw, and tomorrow we'll be having pasta with some of the winter arugula crop.
The s.o. fired up the mower and did his first lawn-cutting of the year. He grumbles good-naturedly about the early spring mowings because he has to circumscribe all the clumps of naturalized daffodils that have lived here longer than we have.
Never a dull moment around here. The good news is that you can garden all year 'round. The bad news is that you can garden all year 'round.
Saturday, March 11, 2006
The best things about our Florida vacation
• The weather was breezy and idyllic the entire week.
• We discovered the best beach ever and spent a lot of time there. And no, I'm not going to say which one, because then everyone else will go there and it will be ruined.
• We found the coveted Africa volume of the Time-Life Foods of the World series in a thrift store. Several other volumes, too.
• At the Cleveland Indians' spring training stadium in Winter Haven, we paid all of $5 to sit in the shade, and we could smell the orange groves nearby as we watched the game. Have I mentioned before that orange blossoms are the best-smelling flowers in the entire world? I have? Well, I just mentioned it again.
• Ybor City was super touristy and seemed kind of down-on-its-heels, but we found a restaurant with unexpectedly good oysters, shrimp, Cuban sandwiches, and conversation.
• We took a great "Sea-fari" boat trip from the Tarpon Springs sponge docks. They provided auto-focus binoculars and had a knowledgeable naturalist onboard. We saw dolphins, bald eagles, herons, ospreys--all kinds of animals, all in their natural habitats. There was a fully restored 1880s iron lighthouse. The water was jade green. Amazing.
• I visited the Fournos bakery (across the street from the St. Nicholas Cathedral in Tarpon) every morning at breakfast time. We also went back to the Mykonos restaurant. And yes, we had the tasty fried smelt!
• I experienced massive equipment failure--my contact lens ripped in half, my purse fell apart, my shoe broke--and totally didn't care because I was having a great time.
• We discovered the best beach ever and spent a lot of time there. And no, I'm not going to say which one, because then everyone else will go there and it will be ruined.
• We found the coveted Africa volume of the Time-Life Foods of the World series in a thrift store. Several other volumes, too.
• At the Cleveland Indians' spring training stadium in Winter Haven, we paid all of $5 to sit in the shade, and we could smell the orange groves nearby as we watched the game. Have I mentioned before that orange blossoms are the best-smelling flowers in the entire world? I have? Well, I just mentioned it again.
• Ybor City was super touristy and seemed kind of down-on-its-heels, but we found a restaurant with unexpectedly good oysters, shrimp, Cuban sandwiches, and conversation.
• We took a great "Sea-fari" boat trip from the Tarpon Springs sponge docks. They provided auto-focus binoculars and had a knowledgeable naturalist onboard. We saw dolphins, bald eagles, herons, ospreys--all kinds of animals, all in their natural habitats. There was a fully restored 1880s iron lighthouse. The water was jade green. Amazing.
• I visited the Fournos bakery (across the street from the St. Nicholas Cathedral in Tarpon) every morning at breakfast time. We also went back to the Mykonos restaurant. And yes, we had the tasty fried smelt!
• I experienced massive equipment failure--my contact lens ripped in half, my purse fell apart, my shoe broke--and totally didn't care because I was having a great time.
Look what we came home to
Wasn't it only a week or two ago that our purple sprouting broccoli were mere nubbins? This morning, after we got home from Florida, I walked out to the garden to find a crazy number of full-grown florets. Don't turn your back on these things, kids...they'll sneak in your windows at night and take over your house.
We steamed them (they turn dark green when you cook 'em) and served them with rarebit sauce. Delicious!
We steamed them (they turn dark green when you cook 'em) and served them with rarebit sauce. Delicious!
Saturday, March 04, 2006
Anticipation
By nightfall we hope to be here.
By tomorrow we will be attempting to pronounce these fellows' names.
See you in a week!
By tomorrow we will be attempting to pronounce these fellows' names.
See you in a week!
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Check it out
More info shortly, but I thought I'd at least show you the pic while I'm eating my dinner! First impression is that the flavor is amazing and the texture is a little odd. I'm eating a slice of it over lentils and celery in a mustard vinaigrette. Mmm.
A half pig head makes a lot of this stuff.
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Okay, I'm back. So here's the deal.
As you recall, yesterday I started soaking the pig head quarters in a brine. The brine, in this case, was an all-purpose one: Two kilos of plain salt dissolved over heat in 7 or 8 liters of water, then chilled with ice packs. Additional ice packs kept the mixture cold while the meat soaked for 24 hours.
Today I drained the brine off, sprayed down the meat with cold clear water, then drained it again. Then I covered it with fresh water and chucked in a quartered peeled onion, a halved trotter, a teaspoon each of whole cloves, coriander, and peppercorns, and some herbs--bay leaf, parsley, marjoram, thyme, and oregano. I brought it to a tremulous simmer and left it for 4 hours, moving the pieces every so often and making sure the water level was sufficient.
At the end of this time, the meat was falling-off-the-bone tender. The half of the brain that was in the skull cavity (which I hadn't even noticed before the cooking started, because there was, er, too much else going on visually) was neatly poached. I screwed up my courage and tried some, and so did the s.o. Pork brain tastes like ever-so-slightly fishy scrambled eggs, which maybe doesn't sound very appealing, but it actually was quite nice. The texture is very unctuous and smooth. It's considered a delicacy, I guess, but there wasn't much of it and it had soaked up a disproportionate amount of salt, so it ended up in the brawn with everything else.
I lifted out the head quarters and let them cool for a few minutes, then started picking the meat off. Technically, anything that's not bone or bristle can go into a brawn, but I left out quite a bit of the fat because our pig was a very chubby gal. I did, however, make sure to include some skin because I had read that that's what gives the brawn a lot of its texture.
There was a lot of meat. The very best meat--stuff that reminded me of the very savory dark-meat part of a rack of ribs--was inside the skull cavity, under the eye and in the area of the palate. Some of it might have been tongue. I very consciously tried not to think too much about this while I was doing it, because, well, urgh! Also, there was some very nice white meat around the neck, trickily sandwiched between hefty layers of fat. Everything got chopped fairly finely and thrown into a large bowl.
Once the meat, fat, skin, and whatnot was all in the bowl, I mixed in the juice of half a lemon and a handful of fresh chopped parsley. I then drizzled it with a couple of small ladles of the liquid the meat was cooked in. The recipe explained that the bones in the head, with the help of the halved trotter, had released a lot of gelatin into the water. This would set the brawn into a solid terrine.
I pressed everything down firmly into the bowl, laid a small plate on top, and weighted it with a large can of tomatoes. Into the fridge it went, and...
...
...
...it set!
It is delicious, but it's a bit on the heavy side. A small slab'll do ya. We plan on quartering what's left and freezing it, because it is said to freeze well. It's yet another way in which our very bountiful half pig will support us through the coming months.
A half pig head makes a lot of this stuff.
----------
Okay, I'm back. So here's the deal.
As you recall, yesterday I started soaking the pig head quarters in a brine. The brine, in this case, was an all-purpose one: Two kilos of plain salt dissolved over heat in 7 or 8 liters of water, then chilled with ice packs. Additional ice packs kept the mixture cold while the meat soaked for 24 hours.
Today I drained the brine off, sprayed down the meat with cold clear water, then drained it again. Then I covered it with fresh water and chucked in a quartered peeled onion, a halved trotter, a teaspoon each of whole cloves, coriander, and peppercorns, and some herbs--bay leaf, parsley, marjoram, thyme, and oregano. I brought it to a tremulous simmer and left it for 4 hours, moving the pieces every so often and making sure the water level was sufficient.
At the end of this time, the meat was falling-off-the-bone tender. The half of the brain that was in the skull cavity (which I hadn't even noticed before the cooking started, because there was, er, too much else going on visually) was neatly poached. I screwed up my courage and tried some, and so did the s.o. Pork brain tastes like ever-so-slightly fishy scrambled eggs, which maybe doesn't sound very appealing, but it actually was quite nice. The texture is very unctuous and smooth. It's considered a delicacy, I guess, but there wasn't much of it and it had soaked up a disproportionate amount of salt, so it ended up in the brawn with everything else.
I lifted out the head quarters and let them cool for a few minutes, then started picking the meat off. Technically, anything that's not bone or bristle can go into a brawn, but I left out quite a bit of the fat because our pig was a very chubby gal. I did, however, make sure to include some skin because I had read that that's what gives the brawn a lot of its texture.
There was a lot of meat. The very best meat--stuff that reminded me of the very savory dark-meat part of a rack of ribs--was inside the skull cavity, under the eye and in the area of the palate. Some of it might have been tongue. I very consciously tried not to think too much about this while I was doing it, because, well, urgh! Also, there was some very nice white meat around the neck, trickily sandwiched between hefty layers of fat. Everything got chopped fairly finely and thrown into a large bowl.
Once the meat, fat, skin, and whatnot was all in the bowl, I mixed in the juice of half a lemon and a handful of fresh chopped parsley. I then drizzled it with a couple of small ladles of the liquid the meat was cooked in. The recipe explained that the bones in the head, with the help of the halved trotter, had released a lot of gelatin into the water. This would set the brawn into a solid terrine.
I pressed everything down firmly into the bowl, laid a small plate on top, and weighted it with a large can of tomatoes. Into the fridge it went, and...
...
...
...it set!
It is delicious, but it's a bit on the heavy side. A small slab'll do ya. We plan on quartering what's left and freezing it, because it is said to freeze well. It's yet another way in which our very bountiful half pig will support us through the coming months.
Wednesday, March 01, 2006
Warning: Pork-related posts today and tomorrow
This morning I made a brine. It is currently cooling, with the aid of some ice packs, and in a few minutes two pieces of quartered pig's head* will be soaking in it.
Tomorrow evening's blog entry will feature brawn (American name: head cheese), which may be the pinnacle of nose-to-tail eating. No waste. No disrespecting of the "lesser" parts of the animal. I have never had brawn** before, but the ingredients look good, so I suspect its scary reputation comes from its origin rather than its taste.
I can tell I'm slowly but surely acclimating to the where-food-comes-from concept, because when I thawed the pig's head and took it out of the plastic, my first thought wasn't "Gross!" but rather, "There's some gorgeous meat on this thing." Also, part of the credit goes to our meat processor, because he cleaned the head up really well and made it much less of a traumatic, visceral experience for me.
To be continued...
----------
* Remember, we only got half a pig. So we got half a head.
** I'm going to use the British term because it's less off-putting.
Tomorrow evening's blog entry will feature brawn (American name: head cheese), which may be the pinnacle of nose-to-tail eating. No waste. No disrespecting of the "lesser" parts of the animal. I have never had brawn** before, but the ingredients look good, so I suspect its scary reputation comes from its origin rather than its taste.
I can tell I'm slowly but surely acclimating to the where-food-comes-from concept, because when I thawed the pig's head and took it out of the plastic, my first thought wasn't "Gross!" but rather, "There's some gorgeous meat on this thing." Also, part of the credit goes to our meat processor, because he cleaned the head up really well and made it much less of a traumatic, visceral experience for me.
To be continued...
----------
* Remember, we only got half a pig. So we got half a head.
** I'm going to use the British term because it's less off-putting.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Qualita'e Abbondanza Pizza
The title of this post is the slogan of a pizza shop chain I grew up with, and it must have worked, because even now the phrase sticks in my mind.
It popped directly into my head when I made tonight's dinner, which isn't really a pizza, but is actually a focaccia with toppings. The difference? I dimple the top of the risen disk of dough with my fingers, press in some rosemary, and drizzle it with olive oil--just as though it was going to be served on its own. Then I part-bake it before adding the remaining ingredients.
The recipe I used for the focaccia is Marcella Hazan's; what's on top is (in this order, from bottom to top) ricotta cheese, pesto, diced sopressata, and fresh mozzarella.
It tastes like summer--a nice trick made possible by the fact that if you whirl fresh basil leaves with olive oil in a food processor and then freeze the resulting mess in a baggie, it can be thawed and made into a very fresh-tasting pesto months later.
Because the focaccia is so much thicker than a Neapolitan pizza, it feeds an army! I'll be freezing some of it for future lunches.
It popped directly into my head when I made tonight's dinner, which isn't really a pizza, but is actually a focaccia with toppings. The difference? I dimple the top of the risen disk of dough with my fingers, press in some rosemary, and drizzle it with olive oil--just as though it was going to be served on its own. Then I part-bake it before adding the remaining ingredients.
The recipe I used for the focaccia is Marcella Hazan's; what's on top is (in this order, from bottom to top) ricotta cheese, pesto, diced sopressata, and fresh mozzarella.
It tastes like summer--a nice trick made possible by the fact that if you whirl fresh basil leaves with olive oil in a food processor and then freeze the resulting mess in a baggie, it can be thawed and made into a very fresh-tasting pesto months later.
Because the focaccia is so much thicker than a Neapolitan pizza, it feeds an army! I'll be freezing some of it for future lunches.
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Can I get a 'Hell yeah'?
The motels are booked for our Florida vacation next week! Half the time in Kissimmee, half in Tarpon Springs. Lots of baseball, jai alai, thrifting, and seafood are on the horizon.
Woooooooooo!
Woooooooooo!
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Comfort food for a rainy day
I really thought I'd be able to get something done in the garden today. I guess it would have helped if I'd looked at the weather forecast; then I would have known I'd be stuck inside, watching through the window as everything disappears under several inches of water.
Luckily, the vegetable garden is designed with raised beds and low paths. The paths, which are perpendicular to the slope, take up all the extra water and divert it to a central drainage ditch. I dug the ditch last year after thousands of newly planted seeds were flushed downslope by a storm. It seems to work pretty well.
No idea, of course, how all my new trees and bushes are faring.
So here I was, indoors, and I opened the fridge to find a nearly-too-old quart of organic milk staring me in the face. I thought about it for a moment, then preheated the oven.
This recipe is Nana's. In the recipe book she made for us grandkids before she died, it's called "Little Boy's Pudding." But she always just called it rice pudding. It's so simple, you'd think it couldn't possibly work. But it does!
RICE PUDDING
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
Mix 4 Tbs. dry rice with 6 Tbs. sugar and 1 quart of milk in an oven dish. Bake 3 hours, or until creamy inside and dark golden brown on top.
Luckily, the vegetable garden is designed with raised beds and low paths. The paths, which are perpendicular to the slope, take up all the extra water and divert it to a central drainage ditch. I dug the ditch last year after thousands of newly planted seeds were flushed downslope by a storm. It seems to work pretty well.
No idea, of course, how all my new trees and bushes are faring.
So here I was, indoors, and I opened the fridge to find a nearly-too-old quart of organic milk staring me in the face. I thought about it for a moment, then preheated the oven.
This recipe is Nana's. In the recipe book she made for us grandkids before she died, it's called "Little Boy's Pudding." But she always just called it rice pudding. It's so simple, you'd think it couldn't possibly work. But it does!
RICE PUDDING
Preheat oven to 325 degrees F.
Mix 4 Tbs. dry rice with 6 Tbs. sugar and 1 quart of milk in an oven dish. Bake 3 hours, or until creamy inside and dark golden brown on top.
Friday, February 24, 2006
Best buds
Can you see it? Amid the blur, I mean? It's one of the first tiny heads of purple sprouting broccoli!
This represents the very first broccoli I have ever successfully grown. And it's a victory over conventional wisdom, too. Seed packets tell you to start PSB in the spring for harvest the following spring; this was planted only last fall! Maybe the Georgia climate is just different enough from the English one to give me a little edge.
There's other exciting floral news around the farm, too: One of my lilacs--which we had noticed seems to have come out of shock and really started to thrive--has set a bunch of flower heads. Maybe I can have lilacs here after all!
I'm not sure which of the two plants to be more excited about. All I know is, I'm excited.
This represents the very first broccoli I have ever successfully grown. And it's a victory over conventional wisdom, too. Seed packets tell you to start PSB in the spring for harvest the following spring; this was planted only last fall! Maybe the Georgia climate is just different enough from the English one to give me a little edge.
There's other exciting floral news around the farm, too: One of my lilacs--which we had noticed seems to have come out of shock and really started to thrive--has set a bunch of flower heads. Maybe I can have lilacs here after all!
I'm not sure which of the two plants to be more excited about. All I know is, I'm excited.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Chicks are ordered!
Day-old chicks, to be delivered the week of May 8 (the soonest they are all available):
1 Black Japanese bantam
1 Buff Japanese bantam
2 Mille Fleur bantams
4 Black Langshans
4 Partridge Rocks
4 Buff Orpingtons
5 Barred Rocks
4 Speckled Sussex
1 Barnyard Combination #2 (9 ducklings and 6 turkeys of Murray McMurray's choosing)
And they were pretty cheep, too. Ugh. Sorry, I couldn't resist.
"So, why all the different breeds of chickens?" you ask. The reasons are that (a) I'm indecisive, (b) we want to find out which breeds we like best, and (c) why not? And the bantams are purely for "wow, cool" value.
"Why so many birds?" you ask. Well, because there's a minimum order to prevent the chicks from bouncing around and/or getting chilled in transit. Also, we have all this land, and we do eat a lot of chicken and eggs, so again, why not?
There was a different Barnyard Combination that had ducks, turkeys, and a couple of geese, but as much as I like roast goose, it seemed like too much. I had a moment of clarity where I pictured myself and/or the dogs being chased by an angry, honking goose and decided that I had my whole life ahead of me and there was no reason I needed to raise my own geese right now!
1 Black Japanese bantam
1 Buff Japanese bantam
2 Mille Fleur bantams
4 Black Langshans
4 Partridge Rocks
4 Buff Orpingtons
5 Barred Rocks
4 Speckled Sussex
1 Barnyard Combination #2 (9 ducklings and 6 turkeys of Murray McMurray's choosing)
And they were pretty cheep, too. Ugh. Sorry, I couldn't resist.
"So, why all the different breeds of chickens?" you ask. The reasons are that (a) I'm indecisive, (b) we want to find out which breeds we like best, and (c) why not? And the bantams are purely for "wow, cool" value.
"Why so many birds?" you ask. Well, because there's a minimum order to prevent the chicks from bouncing around and/or getting chilled in transit. Also, we have all this land, and we do eat a lot of chicken and eggs, so again, why not?
There was a different Barnyard Combination that had ducks, turkeys, and a couple of geese, but as much as I like roast goose, it seemed like too much. I had a moment of clarity where I pictured myself and/or the dogs being chased by an angry, honking goose and decided that I had my whole life ahead of me and there was no reason I needed to raise my own geese right now!
k2, p2, k2, p2
Look! The beginning of a sock! The yarn is Bearfoot "Garnet," sport weight because the instructor--a funny, lovely person who reacted with good humor to my declaration that I'd been web-stalking her--said it would produce socks faster. She's right, of course. At the glacial pace I knit at, it'd take me eons in sock weight at this point.
The top edge is a little loose and loopy--I'm a total beginner who still has trouble handling the needles smoothly, and it took me a few rows to get ahold of myself--but otherwise things are going pretty well.
The Magic Loop technique is weird and counterintuitive for about 10 minutes, and then it starts to make a ton of sense. All you have to remember is what the work looks like at the beginning of a round vs. at the middle, so that you make sure you don't knit back and forth on the same half forever.
The top edge is a little loose and loopy--I'm a total beginner who still has trouble handling the needles smoothly, and it took me a few rows to get ahold of myself--but otherwise things are going pretty well.
The Magic Loop technique is weird and counterintuitive for about 10 minutes, and then it starts to make a ton of sense. All you have to remember is what the work looks like at the beginning of a round vs. at the middle, so that you make sure you don't knit back and forth on the same half forever.
Monday, February 20, 2006
We tried something new this weekend
On the topic of sunchokes, AKA Jerusalem artichokes, Marcella Hazan has this to say:
When sautéed or gratinéed, their texture is a blend of cream and silk, and their taste vaguely recalls that of artichoke hearts, but is sweeter, with none of the artichoke's underlying bitterness.
Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall adds:
This is one of the best of all [dishes], but there's no getting away from the fact that it will make you fart.
They are both correct. Oh, well--nothing's perfect!
If you haven't got any fancy public occasions to attend, I strongly recommend you try Marcella's cooking suggestion: Peel and thinly slice sunchokes, then toss them in butter with an equal amount of halved green onions over a medium-high flame until well coated. Add a little water, season with salt and pepper, and braise until the chokes are tender, adding more water if you need it.
When sautéed or gratinéed, their texture is a blend of cream and silk, and their taste vaguely recalls that of artichoke hearts, but is sweeter, with none of the artichoke's underlying bitterness.
Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall adds:
This is one of the best of all [dishes], but there's no getting away from the fact that it will make you fart.
They are both correct. Oh, well--nothing's perfect!
If you haven't got any fancy public occasions to attend, I strongly recommend you try Marcella's cooking suggestion: Peel and thinly slice sunchokes, then toss them in butter with an equal amount of halved green onions over a medium-high flame until well coated. Add a little water, season with salt and pepper, and braise until the chokes are tender, adding more water if you need it.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Chugging along
Two articles done, and one more in progress for Monday. *whew* This is seriously cutting into my Olympics and American Idol viewing time!
Comments:
(1) We likey Paris Bennett for AI. We also suspect Ace will be in the top two.
(2) I heart Shaun White. Not in that way, of course--he's barely old enough to vote!--but in every other possible way.
(3) Snowboard X is cooooool. It's like Olympic NASCAR.
Comments:
(1) We likey Paris Bennett for AI. We also suspect Ace will be in the top two.
(2) I heart Shaun White. Not in that way, of course--he's barely old enough to vote!--but in every other possible way.
(3) Snowboard X is cooooool. It's like Olympic NASCAR.
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Chore day
Little stuff, lots of it:
1. Pruned the gigantic old pear tree next to the kitchen window, then hauled away a mountain of sticks.
2. Planted some daffodil bulbs we bought in October. Yes, October. Yes, they are already half sprouted.
3. Watered everything--orchard, blueberries, lilacs, garden, greenhouse--because it's not supposed to rain again for several more days. Dragged hoses hither and yon.
4. Fertilized the garden.
In the midst of all this, my day job is unusually crazy, and I'm on and off the phone constantly. Please forgive me if I am relatively quiet for a few days; I have assignments stacked on assignments right now, and in the back of my head, there is a little voice that says but wait, I still have to order the chicks and the beehives...
1. Pruned the gigantic old pear tree next to the kitchen window, then hauled away a mountain of sticks.
2. Planted some daffodil bulbs we bought in October. Yes, October. Yes, they are already half sprouted.
3. Watered everything--orchard, blueberries, lilacs, garden, greenhouse--because it's not supposed to rain again for several more days. Dragged hoses hither and yon.
4. Fertilized the garden.
In the midst of all this, my day job is unusually crazy, and I'm on and off the phone constantly. Please forgive me if I am relatively quiet for a few days; I have assignments stacked on assignments right now, and in the back of my head, there is a little voice that says but wait, I still have to order the chicks and the beehives...
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
Opa!
Sunday's yummy crab pasta made us impatient for our yearly Florida vacation (we leave in less than a month! woooo!).
Then I started thinking about Tarpon Springs and absolutely had to make a batch of kataifi me crema. I can't eat it until tonight (we are having a friend over for dinner, and it wouldn't look good to serve a dessert with a giant chunk carved out of it), but if the many fingerfuls and crispy shreds I stole during the baking process are any indication, it came out beautifully. It's way easier than the length of the recipe might lead you to believe.* If you've ever worked with phyllo dough and found it a little fiddly, be assured that kataifi is much quicker and more indestructable.
As wonderful as the Greek bakeries in Tarpon Springs are, they have a tendency to cover everything in sickly-sweet fake whipped cream, which I then have to scrape off...leaving me with half the pastry I thought I had. This is the pure stuff! If only it came with all the charming atmosphere and the smell of the ocean!
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* I used the second method, where you bake both layers of shredded dough separately and then assemble everything at the end. It sounded like a much better idea than letting everything percolate together in the oven.
UPDATE:
Even better than expected. Mmmmff...drool...
Then I started thinking about Tarpon Springs and absolutely had to make a batch of kataifi me crema. I can't eat it until tonight (we are having a friend over for dinner, and it wouldn't look good to serve a dessert with a giant chunk carved out of it), but if the many fingerfuls and crispy shreds I stole during the baking process are any indication, it came out beautifully. It's way easier than the length of the recipe might lead you to believe.* If you've ever worked with phyllo dough and found it a little fiddly, be assured that kataifi is much quicker and more indestructable.
As wonderful as the Greek bakeries in Tarpon Springs are, they have a tendency to cover everything in sickly-sweet fake whipped cream, which I then have to scrape off...leaving me with half the pastry I thought I had. This is the pure stuff! If only it came with all the charming atmosphere and the smell of the ocean!
----------
* I used the second method, where you bake both layers of shredded dough separately and then assemble everything at the end. It sounded like a much better idea than letting everything percolate together in the oven.
UPDATE:
Even better than expected. Mmmmff...drool...
Monday, February 13, 2006
Dinner fights back
I am not a person who does things "without incident."
I don't seek out drama. I like to be left alone to go about my business. But drama tends to seek me out. The s.o. has mentioned this to me on a number of occasions, and he's right.
So I should know to avoid doing unusual, attention-getting things, because , well, you know.
Yesterday the DeKalb Farmers Market didn't happen to have the fish I wanted, so I was looking around for something new and interesting. I spotted a tub labeled "LIVE BLUE CRABS." I walked over to it and ogled. Several dozen small crabs were slowly waving their claws around. There were a couple pairs of tongs available to grab them with, and there were sturdy clear plastic bags with breathing holes pre-cut in them. The price was $2.29 a pound.
And they were from Savannah! Can't get much more local than that.
I gingerly picked up a pair of tongs and tried to grab a crab, but I soon found that all the crabs were hanging onto each other and it would be extraordinarily difficult to pick up one at a time.
It was about this time that a crowd began to gather. A woman was the first to speak. "They've banded together," she said. "They're saying, 'If you want one of us, you have to take all of us!'"
Another woman piped up, "I hope they don't get loose in the car!"
I laughed a little and returned to concentrating on the task at hand. I managed to find a lively unattached crab and drop it into the sack. This whole procedure reminded me of those games where you try to pick up a stuffed animal with a robotic arm. I reached in with the tongs and tried to get another.
A boy about 10 years old approached me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him place a small hot pepper on my shopping cart. I'm a little awkward around children sometimes, plus I'm not crazy about people I don't know touching my stuff, but I ignored the hot pepper and kept trying to extract crabs from the tub. The boy leaned over and watched me for several minutes, then took up his own pair of tongs and started poking at the crabs.
I looked to see if there was an adult in charge of the boy, but no one seemed to claim him. I tried to be friendly and light-hearted as I whispered, "You probably shouldn't bother the crabs unless you are going to buy some."
The boy put down the tongs and watched me at extremely close range as I fished out three more crabs. When I was done, I merrily picked up the hot pepper and placed it next to the boy on the edge of the crab tank. Away I went.
Except I soon noticed that the boy was following me, right at my elbow. He followed me through the entire meat section, apparently hoping that something else exciting would happen--maybe that I would kill a duck with my bare hands or buy some unimaginable type of offal. I had no idea what to do. I tried to appear pleasant but noncommital. He hovered next to me as I ordered and received three large lamb shoulder chops.
When we got to the cheeses, the boy suddenly demanded to know where his chili pepper was. (I was a little startled, because I was pretty sure he'd seen me move it. Apparently not! Now I felt like a really mean lady, but there was no help for it.) I told him I had put it on the edge of the crab tank. He disappeared to go find it, and I was able to shake him at last.
I stopped at the in-store café to get a cup of coffee and a raspberry bar, and then I headed for the checkout. I munched on my snack and sipped my coffee as I waited in line. Unfortunately, a store employee spotted my bag of crabs and approached me to ask whether they were really alive (yes), and what I was going to do with them. It took my full concentration to explain my culinary ideas to him because his first language was (according to his nametag) Gujarati. I am not one hundred percent sure that I managed to convey "boil" and "pasta," but I tried valiantly.
Finally I was at the front of the line. And there I hit a bit of a snag, because one of the crabs had reached through a breathing hole in the bag and grabbed onto my shopping cart. I struggled to liberate the bag of crabs and in the process spilled quite a bit of my coffee on my shoes. Everyone in line behind me watched the drama unfold. In the end I managed to use my fingernails to pry the claw off, and the checkout girl was able to weigh the crabs and complete my transaction.
Total cost? $3.00 (and several years of my life, thanks to the stress). But they made one hell of a batch of crab linguine.
I don't seek out drama. I like to be left alone to go about my business. But drama tends to seek me out. The s.o. has mentioned this to me on a number of occasions, and he's right.
So I should know to avoid doing unusual, attention-getting things, because , well, you know.
Yesterday the DeKalb Farmers Market didn't happen to have the fish I wanted, so I was looking around for something new and interesting. I spotted a tub labeled "LIVE BLUE CRABS." I walked over to it and ogled. Several dozen small crabs were slowly waving their claws around. There were a couple pairs of tongs available to grab them with, and there were sturdy clear plastic bags with breathing holes pre-cut in them. The price was $2.29 a pound.
And they were from Savannah! Can't get much more local than that.
I gingerly picked up a pair of tongs and tried to grab a crab, but I soon found that all the crabs were hanging onto each other and it would be extraordinarily difficult to pick up one at a time.
It was about this time that a crowd began to gather. A woman was the first to speak. "They've banded together," she said. "They're saying, 'If you want one of us, you have to take all of us!'"
Another woman piped up, "I hope they don't get loose in the car!"
I laughed a little and returned to concentrating on the task at hand. I managed to find a lively unattached crab and drop it into the sack. This whole procedure reminded me of those games where you try to pick up a stuffed animal with a robotic arm. I reached in with the tongs and tried to get another.
A boy about 10 years old approached me, and out of the corner of my eye I saw him place a small hot pepper on my shopping cart. I'm a little awkward around children sometimes, plus I'm not crazy about people I don't know touching my stuff, but I ignored the hot pepper and kept trying to extract crabs from the tub. The boy leaned over and watched me for several minutes, then took up his own pair of tongs and started poking at the crabs.
I looked to see if there was an adult in charge of the boy, but no one seemed to claim him. I tried to be friendly and light-hearted as I whispered, "You probably shouldn't bother the crabs unless you are going to buy some."
The boy put down the tongs and watched me at extremely close range as I fished out three more crabs. When I was done, I merrily picked up the hot pepper and placed it next to the boy on the edge of the crab tank. Away I went.
Except I soon noticed that the boy was following me, right at my elbow. He followed me through the entire meat section, apparently hoping that something else exciting would happen--maybe that I would kill a duck with my bare hands or buy some unimaginable type of offal. I had no idea what to do. I tried to appear pleasant but noncommital. He hovered next to me as I ordered and received three large lamb shoulder chops.
When we got to the cheeses, the boy suddenly demanded to know where his chili pepper was. (I was a little startled, because I was pretty sure he'd seen me move it. Apparently not! Now I felt like a really mean lady, but there was no help for it.) I told him I had put it on the edge of the crab tank. He disappeared to go find it, and I was able to shake him at last.
I stopped at the in-store café to get a cup of coffee and a raspberry bar, and then I headed for the checkout. I munched on my snack and sipped my coffee as I waited in line. Unfortunately, a store employee spotted my bag of crabs and approached me to ask whether they were really alive (yes), and what I was going to do with them. It took my full concentration to explain my culinary ideas to him because his first language was (according to his nametag) Gujarati. I am not one hundred percent sure that I managed to convey "boil" and "pasta," but I tried valiantly.
Finally I was at the front of the line. And there I hit a bit of a snag, because one of the crabs had reached through a breathing hole in the bag and grabbed onto my shopping cart. I struggled to liberate the bag of crabs and in the process spilled quite a bit of my coffee on my shoes. Everyone in line behind me watched the drama unfold. In the end I managed to use my fingernails to pry the claw off, and the checkout girl was able to weigh the crabs and complete my transaction.
Total cost? $3.00 (and several years of my life, thanks to the stress). But they made one hell of a batch of crab linguine.
Sunday, February 12, 2006
Here goes
Having been tagged by Mrs. D, I'm the last person on earth to do...
The 4x8 Meme
Four Jobs I've Had in My Life:
1. Subway "Sandwich Artist"
2. Pizza box assembler / occasional pizza-maker
3. Fragrance counter manager at a department store
4. Trade magazine editor
Four Movies I Could (and I do) Watch Over and Over:
1. Aguirre: The Wrath of God (yes, really)
2. Dazed and Confused
3. The Accountant
4. Almost Famous
Four Places I've Lived:
1. Hartville, OH
2. St. Paul, MN
3. Iowa City, IA
4. Nashville, TN
Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:
1. CSI (only the one in Las Vegas)
2. House
3. Law & Order (any)
4. American Idol
Four Places I Have Been on Vacation:
1. Greece
2. Capetown, South Africa
3. London, UK
4. all over Florida
Four Websites I Visit Daily:
1. Fark (embarrassingly)
2. Yahoo mail
3. Kinja
4. lots and lots of blogs
Four of My Favorite Foods:
1. Pie (especially rhubarb or cherry)
2. Pizza (especially if it's homemade or if it's from somewhere in the northeast)
3. Greek yogurt
4. Celeriac
Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now:
1. London
2. Florida (almost time for Spring Training!)
3. nowhere up north during this snowstorm, that's for damn sure
4. Australia (it's summer there, yes?)
Four Tags: People I'm Tagging to Continue this Meme:
Nah. :-)
The 4x8 Meme
Four Jobs I've Had in My Life:
1. Subway "Sandwich Artist"
2. Pizza box assembler / occasional pizza-maker
3. Fragrance counter manager at a department store
4. Trade magazine editor
Four Movies I Could (and I do) Watch Over and Over:
1. Aguirre: The Wrath of God (yes, really)
2. Dazed and Confused
3. The Accountant
4. Almost Famous
Four Places I've Lived:
1. Hartville, OH
2. St. Paul, MN
3. Iowa City, IA
4. Nashville, TN
Four TV Shows I Love to Watch:
1. CSI (only the one in Las Vegas)
2. House
3. Law & Order (any)
4. American Idol
Four Places I Have Been on Vacation:
1. Greece
2. Capetown, South Africa
3. London, UK
4. all over Florida
Four Websites I Visit Daily:
1. Fark (embarrassingly)
2. Yahoo mail
3. Kinja
4. lots and lots of blogs
Four of My Favorite Foods:
1. Pie (especially rhubarb or cherry)
2. Pizza (especially if it's homemade or if it's from somewhere in the northeast)
3. Greek yogurt
4. Celeriac
Four Places I Would Rather Be Right Now:
1. London
2. Florida (almost time for Spring Training!)
3. nowhere up north during this snowstorm, that's for damn sure
4. Australia (it's summer there, yes?)
Four Tags: People I'm Tagging to Continue this Meme:
Nah. :-)
Friday, February 10, 2006
Eating local all the year 'round
I am so proud of tonight's dinner that I have to share:
The main course was this, made with a package of weird-shaped end ribs and back pieces from our half pig. It was delectably tender, with that deep porky flavor that we are coming to expect. (We are so spoiled. So much for buying what passes for pork at the supermarket ever again!)
The sauce was already made; it was the last of a batch I froze last July when blackberries were plentiful. It freezes beautifully, I must say! I think I'll put up a bunch of it this year, because it is fast becoming one of my all-time favorite barbecue sauces.
The side dish was a coleslaw made completely from our own fresh vegetables: the little cabbagey tops of our brussels sprout plants (we lopped off the tops to try to encourage the little sprouts to grow bigger, because they have been awfully slow), a carrot, and a big handful of Sparkler radishes. It turned out really nicely.
So there you have it: Georgia pork, blackberries, brassicas, carrots, and radishes.
I'm stuffed.
The main course was this, made with a package of weird-shaped end ribs and back pieces from our half pig. It was delectably tender, with that deep porky flavor that we are coming to expect. (We are so spoiled. So much for buying what passes for pork at the supermarket ever again!)
The sauce was already made; it was the last of a batch I froze last July when blackberries were plentiful. It freezes beautifully, I must say! I think I'll put up a bunch of it this year, because it is fast becoming one of my all-time favorite barbecue sauces.
The side dish was a coleslaw made completely from our own fresh vegetables: the little cabbagey tops of our brussels sprout plants (we lopped off the tops to try to encourage the little sprouts to grow bigger, because they have been awfully slow), a carrot, and a big handful of Sparkler radishes. It turned out really nicely.
So there you have it: Georgia pork, blackberries, brassicas, carrots, and radishes.
I'm stuffed.
Oh please, oh please
Against my better judgment, I planted more rhubarb, just because I want it so very badly. Please let it not die. I gave it a whole bag of composted manure. It has to be growable here, or they wouldn't sell it at the Feed & Seed, right? Right?
Has anyone else here ever bought a Sophie Grigson cookbook? I recently ordered this one, and although I have yet to cook a single recipe, I think I am in love with it. She's all about heirloom fruit, seasonal produce, free-range organic meat, etc. She comes up with unusual combinations, but somehow they seem natural and appealing, not fusion-y in that weird way that many chefs are guilty of. I can't wait to cook the dishes she describes!
Has anyone else here ever bought a Sophie Grigson cookbook? I recently ordered this one, and although I have yet to cook a single recipe, I think I am in love with it. She's all about heirloom fruit, seasonal produce, free-range organic meat, etc. She comes up with unusual combinations, but somehow they seem natural and appealing, not fusion-y in that weird way that many chefs are guilty of. I can't wait to cook the dishes she describes!
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Very happy news
Silver had an appointment with the veterinary orthopedic surgeon yesterday. We'd been given a referral because our regular vet was pretty sure Silver was going to need surgery--possibly on both knees. We chose to be referred to Dr. S., the same surgeon who worked with Cairo and did such a good job on his leg amputation.
We love Dr. S. She is an extremely tall, beautiful black woman with a LOUD, ENCOURAGING voice. You get the sense that she is fully engaged with your problem and is spending a lot of her considerable mental energy on it. The s.o. commented yesterday that he kind of wishes she was a "people doctor."
Dr. S. reviewed the x-rays we'd been sent with (which aren't very good, actually, because apparently a certain dog was trying to climb off the table when they were taken). Then she asked me a lot of questions about Silver's history, the injury, and how things have changed over the past month and a half. She and her assistant led us outside, and the assistant took Silv for a trot around the parking lot while Dr. S. watched her gait. Then the assistant ran Silver up and down the front steps a couple of times. Finally, back indoors, Dr. S. felt Silver's knees, bending them back and forth and feeling around to see whether the kneecaps popped out of line.
The left knee still pops out under some circumstances. The right one seems better. Dr. S. said she was pretty sure the problem had originated with some kind of injury last year, and hadn't been a hereditary conformational problem. Probably Silv tweaked her knees somehow and was walking with stiff and swollen legs. Then that day when she jumped off the sofa, she had the bad luck to blow the left knee out altogether. Ever since then, with the help of the drugs, things have been improving.
In the end, Dr. S. respectfully disagreed with our regular vet. She felt that Silver is getting around very well right now. She's not opting out of running and playing, nor is she favoring one leg over the other. Surgery, therefore, is too extreme a measure right now; it wouldn't be an improvement, because Silver is actually doing quite well! We are to keep an eye on her and bring her in immediately if anything changes. We can use Rimadyl on her "bad days," and keep up with the Cosequin full-time.
The left knee is still a little problematic, and it's likely that she'll need surgery on it someday. But the groove is fine, and her cruciate ligament isn't in any immediate danger--so we watch and wait. The right is better than expected and is unlikely to ever be a problem.
This is the best news we could have realistically hoped for, and we're so happy our beautiful princess is doing well!
We love Dr. S. She is an extremely tall, beautiful black woman with a LOUD, ENCOURAGING voice. You get the sense that she is fully engaged with your problem and is spending a lot of her considerable mental energy on it. The s.o. commented yesterday that he kind of wishes she was a "people doctor."
Dr. S. reviewed the x-rays we'd been sent with (which aren't very good, actually, because apparently a certain dog was trying to climb off the table when they were taken). Then she asked me a lot of questions about Silver's history, the injury, and how things have changed over the past month and a half. She and her assistant led us outside, and the assistant took Silv for a trot around the parking lot while Dr. S. watched her gait. Then the assistant ran Silver up and down the front steps a couple of times. Finally, back indoors, Dr. S. felt Silver's knees, bending them back and forth and feeling around to see whether the kneecaps popped out of line.
The left knee still pops out under some circumstances. The right one seems better. Dr. S. said she was pretty sure the problem had originated with some kind of injury last year, and hadn't been a hereditary conformational problem. Probably Silv tweaked her knees somehow and was walking with stiff and swollen legs. Then that day when she jumped off the sofa, she had the bad luck to blow the left knee out altogether. Ever since then, with the help of the drugs, things have been improving.
In the end, Dr. S. respectfully disagreed with our regular vet. She felt that Silver is getting around very well right now. She's not opting out of running and playing, nor is she favoring one leg over the other. Surgery, therefore, is too extreme a measure right now; it wouldn't be an improvement, because Silver is actually doing quite well! We are to keep an eye on her and bring her in immediately if anything changes. We can use Rimadyl on her "bad days," and keep up with the Cosequin full-time.
The left knee is still a little problematic, and it's likely that she'll need surgery on it someday. But the groove is fine, and her cruciate ligament isn't in any immediate danger--so we watch and wait. The right is better than expected and is unlikely to ever be a problem.
This is the best news we could have realistically hoped for, and we're so happy our beautiful princess is doing well!
Monday, February 06, 2006
In progress
I would have modeled this hat for the photo, but as soon as I perched it atop my head, Gracie leapt to her feet and started following me around with a horrified, transfixed expression on her little doggie face: "Mom! Something's attacking your head!"
Note to Liz: It doesn't look that much further along than last time, does it? That's because I did end up ripping it all out and starting over. It was the World's Largest Hat, and I was actually beginning to worry that I might not have enough yarn to finish it. This iteration is a lot better.
Note to Liz: It doesn't look that much further along than last time, does it? That's because I did end up ripping it all out and starting over. It was the World's Largest Hat, and I was actually beginning to worry that I might not have enough yarn to finish it. This iteration is a lot better.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Way to go, Steelers!
Those of you who watched the Superbowl: What did you eat?
We had homemade pierogi (both sauerkraut and potato); a stew made of chorizo, greens, and potatoes; mincemeat cake; ham and cheese with crackers; and a double order of our favorite braised chicken wings from the local Chinese restaurant.
We had homemade pierogi (both sauerkraut and potato); a stew made of chorizo, greens, and potatoes; mincemeat cake; ham and cheese with crackers; and a double order of our favorite braised chicken wings from the local Chinese restaurant.
Saturday, February 04, 2006
This was to make up for the slice of cake that was the other half of my dinner
This salad was 100 percent homegrown! Check out that Oaky Red Splash lettuce.
Friday, February 03, 2006
Wooooooo!
My trees came!
I have just received, from Trees of Antiquity:
1 Whitney crabapple
1 Bramley Seedling apple
1 Arkansas Black apple
1 White Pearmain apple
1 Bavay's Green Gage plum
1 Blue Damson plum
1 Smyrna quince
1 Izu persimmon
Guess I know what we'll be doing with our weekend...after we finish putting in those blueberries. (Whew!)
I have just received, from Trees of Antiquity:
1 Whitney crabapple
1 Bramley Seedling apple
1 Arkansas Black apple
1 White Pearmain apple
1 Bavay's Green Gage plum
1 Blue Damson plum
1 Smyrna quince
1 Izu persimmon
Guess I know what we'll be doing with our weekend...after we finish putting in those blueberries. (Whew!)
Global warming? pt. 2
This is how mild the weather has been:
We heat our house with natural gas, which has (of course) gone up precipitously in price this year.
I just received a gas bill, opened it, looked at the amount, and thought, "Oh, that's totally reasonable."
!!!
By the way, today is the regularly-scheduled, has-nothing-to-do-with-the-mild-winter day of starting seeds in the greenhouse. Our last frost date is somewhere in mid-March, usually, so now's the time to get the warm-weather crops into their little peat pots. Meanwhile, the bok choy and cabbages I started in the greenhouse several weeks ago are now ready to be released into the garden proper.
Also, there is a festival of kohlrabi sproutage happening in the garden. I planted kohlrabi as an experimental crop, not even knowing if I like it. But if they keep growing at their present rate, I certainly hope I do!
We heat our house with natural gas, which has (of course) gone up precipitously in price this year.
I just received a gas bill, opened it, looked at the amount, and thought, "Oh, that's totally reasonable."
!!!
By the way, today is the regularly-scheduled, has-nothing-to-do-with-the-mild-winter day of starting seeds in the greenhouse. Our last frost date is somewhere in mid-March, usually, so now's the time to get the warm-weather crops into their little peat pots. Meanwhile, the bok choy and cabbages I started in the greenhouse several weeks ago are now ready to be released into the garden proper.
Also, there is a festival of kohlrabi sproutage happening in the garden. I planted kohlrabi as an experimental crop, not even knowing if I like it. But if they keep growing at their present rate, I certainly hope I do!
Thursday, February 02, 2006
Goalward
Some of you may recall that one of my New Year's resolutions was to become a real knitter, one who could make more than stockinette-stitch scarves. Liz gave me a major, major boost in this department by sending me some gorgeous homespun yarn and a pattern for a simple hat. I've been intermittently knitting away at that (when my work hasn't intruded--holy cow, has it been a busy couple of weeks!), and so far it looks amazingly hatlike.
But now I expect to finish the hat with a little more alacrity, because there's something else knitty looming on the horizon: I have signed up for a class taught by Anita DeRouen at Main Street Yarns & Fibers. Provided it isn't too advanced for me (which is a distinct possibility, although I was assured otherwise by the proprietor of the store), the class will kill two birds with one stone. First, it will teach me the Magic Loop technique, a very cool and helpful-looking bit of witchcraft which a friend recently demonstrated to me. And second, it will teach me how to make socks.
The class will start mid-month, which means I MUST and WILL finish the hat by then! There is nothing that gets a journalist moving better than a hard deadline...
But now I expect to finish the hat with a little more alacrity, because there's something else knitty looming on the horizon: I have signed up for a class taught by Anita DeRouen at Main Street Yarns & Fibers. Provided it isn't too advanced for me (which is a distinct possibility, although I was assured otherwise by the proprietor of the store), the class will kill two birds with one stone. First, it will teach me the Magic Loop technique, a very cool and helpful-looking bit of witchcraft which a friend recently demonstrated to me. And second, it will teach me how to make socks.
The class will start mid-month, which means I MUST and WILL finish the hat by then! There is nothing that gets a journalist moving better than a hard deadline...
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
We get by with a little help from our friends
We were thinking of planting some kind of hedge by the guest house anyway. And then, amazingly, someone on Athens Freecycle announced that she was giving away a bunch of blueberry plants for free. We got 20. (Astute readers will note that this brings our grand total up to 35 blueberry bushes!)
When we got home from picking up the blueberries, we found that my friend Lucille had stopped by to drop off a bunch of seed-starting materials she didn't need.
Big smiles around these parts.
P.S. Ham with spiced figs for dinner tonight.
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Cassoulet
One of the major criticisms of my cooking and lifestyle guru, Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, is that normal, everyday people can't cook his recipes because the recipes are too dependent on homegrown, home-charcuteried artisanal foods. I am of two minds on this. On one hand, I figure I am a normal, everyday person, and if I can cook his recipes--which I do, several times per week--so can anyone. On the other hand, not everyone sets his or her priorities the way I do. Not every person is willing to cook goose legs from scratch, or to bring home half an organic hog and process it into hams, bacons, roasts, and sausages. For that matter, not every person even makes time to grow or seek out organic vegetables.
But then again, shouldn't everyone? Some people will say it's wildly unrealistic to expect people do do these things. But perhaps that very argument is a testament to how far removed we have become from the sources of our food. If that's the case (and I think it is), then every little step we can make toward connectedness with our food is a positive one.
So it is with mixed feelings, yet a deep sense of conviction, that I post the following recipe. If it's not something you can make right now, sock it away somewhere for future reference and think about making it a possibility in the future.
Okay. First you need a preserved goose or duck leg. If you are in the habit of roasting ducks and geese, you will have noticed that it's difficult to time the cooking process so that the legs are fully done without the breast becoming dry. The best way to deal with this issue is to remove the legs and roast the breast on its own. While you're doing this, pull out the extra fat from the cavity and skin of the bird and render it in the oven on low heat. Then you have the ingredients for...
CONFIT
2 goose or duck leg quarters
a handful of pickling or kosher salt
1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
2-3 sprigs of thyme
2-3 bay leaves (dry or fresh) crumbled or julienned
6 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbs. olive oil
rendered goose or duck fat
Mix together the salt, pepper, thyme, bay leaves, and garlic, and rub them thoroughly into the skin and meat of the legs. Cover and refrigerate for 48 hours, giving the meat another rub after the first 24 hours. Scrape off and reserve the seasonings.
Heat the olive oil over medium heat and brown the legs on both sides. Place them in a deep ovenproof dish in which they fit as snugly as possible. Add the scraped-off seasonings and enough fat to cover. Bake at 300 degrees for 2 hours. Let cool.
At this point you can cover and refrigerate the fat-covered legs almost indefinitely. The fat will preserve them.
Now, as long as you have access to various pig parts, you are ready to make a cassoulet.
CASSOULET
The beans
1/2 lb. dried navy, great northern, cannelini, or borlotti beans
1 smallish onion, peeled and stuck with 3 whole cloves
2 garlic cloves, peeled
2 bay leaves
a small handful of parsley stalks
a few sprigs of thyme
up to 1/4 lb. diced pork rind
Put the beans in a large pot with water to cover by about 2 inches. If your water is a little acidic, as ours seems to be, it helps to add a pinch of baking soda to un-toughen the beans. Bring to a boil, then turn off the heat and let soak overnight.
Drain the beans, add fresh water to cover by 2 inches, then add the remaining ingredients. Bring to the boil, skim off any scum that develops, then reduce the heat and simmer until the beans are tender but still retain their shape. This can take as little as an hour, or as long as several hours, depending on your water and the age of the beans.
Season with salt and pepper (go easy on the salt, since the beans will suck up some salt from the bacon later) and fish out the cloved onion and the herbs. Drain if there's too much liquid, but theoretically the beans should have soaked up most of it and you can leave it as is.
The meat and sauce
1 preserved goose or duck leg quarter, with a little rendered fat left caked on it
1/2 lb. fresh pork (belly, shoulder, whatever), cut into 1-inch cubes
1/2 lb. unsmoked bacon, diced
3 good-sized garlicky, peppery sausage links (I would horrify the French by my use of homemade Italian sausages)
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 large tomatoes, chopped, with their juice (or a can of diced tomatoes)
1-2 tsp. tomato paste
salt and freshly ground black pepper
at least a cup of good fresh breadcrumbs (white is traditional, but I use wheat and quite like the effect)
About an hour from the end of the bean-cooking time, place the goose or duck leg in a large skillet over medium heat. The fat will melt off of it and provide you with something to fry the meat in. Brown the leg crisply on both sides. Remove the leg from the pan and set aside. Now use the same fat to fry the fresh pork and the bacon. Remove these, too, and set aside. Fry the sausages and set them aside.
Shred the meat from the goose or duck leg. Cut the sausages into 1- to 2-inch-long pieces.
Pour off and reserve all but a couple tablespoons of the accumulated fat in the pan. Now fry the onion and garlic gently until softened. Stir in the tomatoes and tomato paste and simmer about 20 minutes until you have a pulpy sauce.
Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F.
When the beans are cooked, stir the tomato sauce into them. Season if needed, again keeping in mind the saltiness of the meat. Put roughly 2/3 of this mix into a deep ovenproof ceramic dish (I am very devoted to my Emile Henry dish, pictured, which I received as a gift this past Christmas). Add the goose shreds and the pork and bacon pieces and press them lightly into the beans. Now add the remaining bean mixture.
Sprinkle with about 1/3 c. of your breadcrumbs, drizzle with some of the reserved fat, and place in the oven for 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Every 30 to 45 minutes, break up the crust that has formed, add more breadcrumbs, and drizzle again with fat.
About 30 minutes before the end of the cooking time, press the sausage chunks into the top and add your final layer of crumbs and fat. The sausages should brown nicely in the remaining time.
I like to serve this with nothing except a fresh, crisp salad; Hugh suggests one made with watercress and oranges, and he's exactly right. The salad cuts the richness nicely. Even so, you should expect to fall asleep shortly after eating.
But then again, shouldn't everyone? Some people will say it's wildly unrealistic to expect people do do these things. But perhaps that very argument is a testament to how far removed we have become from the sources of our food. If that's the case (and I think it is), then every little step we can make toward connectedness with our food is a positive one.
So it is with mixed feelings, yet a deep sense of conviction, that I post the following recipe. If it's not something you can make right now, sock it away somewhere for future reference and think about making it a possibility in the future.
Okay. First you need a preserved goose or duck leg. If you are in the habit of roasting ducks and geese, you will have noticed that it's difficult to time the cooking process so that the legs are fully done without the breast becoming dry. The best way to deal with this issue is to remove the legs and roast the breast on its own. While you're doing this, pull out the extra fat from the cavity and skin of the bird and render it in the oven on low heat. Then you have the ingredients for...
CONFIT
2 goose or duck leg quarters
a handful of pickling or kosher salt
1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
2-3 sprigs of thyme
2-3 bay leaves (dry or fresh) crumbled or julienned
6 cloves garlic, minced
2 Tbs. olive oil
rendered goose or duck fat
Mix together the salt, pepper, thyme, bay leaves, and garlic, and rub them thoroughly into the skin and meat of the legs. Cover and refrigerate for 48 hours, giving the meat another rub after the first 24 hours. Scrape off and reserve the seasonings.
Heat the olive oil over medium heat and brown the legs on both sides. Place them in a deep ovenproof dish in which they fit as snugly as possible. Add the scraped-off seasonings and enough fat to cover. Bake at 300 degrees for 2 hours. Let cool.
At this point you can cover and refrigerate the fat-covered legs almost indefinitely. The fat will preserve them.
Now, as long as you have access to various pig parts, you are ready to make a cassoulet.
CASSOULET
The beans
1/2 lb. dried navy, great northern, cannelini, or borlotti beans
1 smallish onion, peeled and stuck with 3 whole cloves
2 garlic cloves, peeled
2 bay leaves
a small handful of parsley stalks
a few sprigs of thyme
up to 1/4 lb. diced pork rind
Put the beans in a large pot with water to cover by about 2 inches. If your water is a little acidic, as ours seems to be, it helps to add a pinch of baking soda to un-toughen the beans. Bring to a boil, then turn off the heat and let soak overnight.
Drain the beans, add fresh water to cover by 2 inches, then add the remaining ingredients. Bring to the boil, skim off any scum that develops, then reduce the heat and simmer until the beans are tender but still retain their shape. This can take as little as an hour, or as long as several hours, depending on your water and the age of the beans.
Season with salt and pepper (go easy on the salt, since the beans will suck up some salt from the bacon later) and fish out the cloved onion and the herbs. Drain if there's too much liquid, but theoretically the beans should have soaked up most of it and you can leave it as is.
The meat and sauce
1 preserved goose or duck leg quarter, with a little rendered fat left caked on it
1/2 lb. fresh pork (belly, shoulder, whatever), cut into 1-inch cubes
1/2 lb. unsmoked bacon, diced
3 good-sized garlicky, peppery sausage links (I would horrify the French by my use of homemade Italian sausages)
1 medium onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 large tomatoes, chopped, with their juice (or a can of diced tomatoes)
1-2 tsp. tomato paste
salt and freshly ground black pepper
at least a cup of good fresh breadcrumbs (white is traditional, but I use wheat and quite like the effect)
About an hour from the end of the bean-cooking time, place the goose or duck leg in a large skillet over medium heat. The fat will melt off of it and provide you with something to fry the meat in. Brown the leg crisply on both sides. Remove the leg from the pan and set aside. Now use the same fat to fry the fresh pork and the bacon. Remove these, too, and set aside. Fry the sausages and set them aside.
Shred the meat from the goose or duck leg. Cut the sausages into 1- to 2-inch-long pieces.
Pour off and reserve all but a couple tablespoons of the accumulated fat in the pan. Now fry the onion and garlic gently until softened. Stir in the tomatoes and tomato paste and simmer about 20 minutes until you have a pulpy sauce.
Preheat the oven to 300 degrees F.
When the beans are cooked, stir the tomato sauce into them. Season if needed, again keeping in mind the saltiness of the meat. Put roughly 2/3 of this mix into a deep ovenproof ceramic dish (I am very devoted to my Emile Henry dish, pictured, which I received as a gift this past Christmas). Add the goose shreds and the pork and bacon pieces and press them lightly into the beans. Now add the remaining bean mixture.
Sprinkle with about 1/3 c. of your breadcrumbs, drizzle with some of the reserved fat, and place in the oven for 2 to 2 1/2 hours. Every 30 to 45 minutes, break up the crust that has formed, add more breadcrumbs, and drizzle again with fat.
About 30 minutes before the end of the cooking time, press the sausage chunks into the top and add your final layer of crumbs and fat. The sausages should brown nicely in the remaining time.
I like to serve this with nothing except a fresh, crisp salad; Hugh suggests one made with watercress and oranges, and he's exactly right. The salad cuts the richness nicely. Even so, you should expect to fall asleep shortly after eating.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Tiny, tiny livestock
Anyone want to guess what I ordered this morning? Hint: They come in two-pound packages.
Sunday, January 29, 2006
PSA
The crabapple pie I made on December 10, while epic in its own right, is even more amazing with a little bit of rhubarb mixed into it.
I think I could eat pie for every meal. *sigh*
I think I could eat pie for every meal. *sigh*
Saturday, January 28, 2006
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Where has the week gone?
I'm still playing catch-up from being sick for a whole week! So it was a nice break to spend yesterday at a native plants symposium at the State Botanical Garden of Georgia.
I learned a lot in all the sessions, but obviously the one on native edibles was most interesting to me.
Must work. More soon.
I learned a lot in all the sessions, but obviously the one on native edibles was most interesting to me.
Must work. More soon.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
The bats are back
Yesterday evening I heard the s.o.'s voice calling out from the foyer. "BAT IN THE HOUSE!"
We have a routine for this. We put the dogs in the bedroom and shut the door. We prop the front door open. For a while we wait for the bat to find the door on its own, but it never does. There is a lot of ducking and screaming. Eventually I get a broom and I try to intercept the bat in midair and gently but firmly whack it out the door. My little joke is that that's why they're called "bats." Although if you follow my logic, I suppose they should really be called "balls."
Anyhow. BAT IN THE HOUSE means that they are getting in somewhere, and that somewhere is probably in the attic. And sure enough, as I attempted to fall asleep last night, I heard eeking and scratching in the wall. Why do they like the wall right behind where my head rests when I sleep?!
Time to put the Bat Exclusion Plan into action again. We like them and we want them to stay, but we would prefer they nest in a bat house rather than in our wall. Guano stinks.
In other news, I made a cassoulet on Monday for Slow Cooking Day. But the process is somehow more cumbersome to explain than to do, and I haven't managed to blog about it yet. I will, I promise.
We have a routine for this. We put the dogs in the bedroom and shut the door. We prop the front door open. For a while we wait for the bat to find the door on its own, but it never does. There is a lot of ducking and screaming. Eventually I get a broom and I try to intercept the bat in midair and gently but firmly whack it out the door. My little joke is that that's why they're called "bats." Although if you follow my logic, I suppose they should really be called "balls."
Anyhow. BAT IN THE HOUSE means that they are getting in somewhere, and that somewhere is probably in the attic. And sure enough, as I attempted to fall asleep last night, I heard eeking and scratching in the wall. Why do they like the wall right behind where my head rests when I sleep?!
Time to put the Bat Exclusion Plan into action again. We like them and we want them to stay, but we would prefer they nest in a bat house rather than in our wall. Guano stinks.
In other news, I made a cassoulet on Monday for Slow Cooking Day. But the process is somehow more cumbersome to explain than to do, and I haven't managed to blog about it yet. I will, I promise.
Sunday, January 22, 2006
The beauty of having a greenhouse
You know, I could take pictures of radishes every day and never tire of them. They're the cheeriest objects in the known universe.
We are peas; see us sprout
We've had a rainy few days, and it's doing the early plantings a world of good.
Yesterday I was talking with a fellow non-southerner, and she remarked that gardening here was weird. When the seed packet says "Plant as soon as the ground can be worked," what's that supposed to mean? December?
The answer is, as soon as the days start to get noticeably longer. The Extension recommends January 15 for crops that don't mind frost.
Yesterday I was talking with a fellow non-southerner, and she remarked that gardening here was weird. When the seed packet says "Plant as soon as the ground can be worked," what's that supposed to mean? December?
The answer is, as soon as the days start to get noticeably longer. The Extension recommends January 15 for crops that don't mind frost.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Rural news report
Today Crazy Neighbor Ed and his son made a bid for the 2006 Darwin Awards. First we watched CNE as he balanced in a tree, chainsawing off the end of the branch his ladder was propped on. [Note to CNE: Physics dictates that when the weight falls away, the branch will rebound!]
Then we watched CNE's son trying to pull out a tree stump, first by tying it to his 4x4, then by tying it to the bumper of a pickup truck. The first time, he did a lot of wheelies. The second time, the top of the stump splintered and the truck jumped forward as all the bystanders scurried out of the way. We had hoped the bumper would just shear off, but this was almost as dramatic.
After dinner, we got the newspaper. The headline read: "Two Heavyweights to Open Near I-20 in Near Future--Home Depot and Wal-Mart."
The site is 10 or 15 miles away, at the Greensboro exit.
How should I feel about this? I hate Wal-Mart. Their employees make crappy wages and get crappy benefits. They squeeze small businesses out of existence by demanding cripplingly low wholesale prices. They kill local businesses. On the other hand, unemployment in our county is sky-high, the majority of the people are living in abject poverty, and the downtowns are already completely deceased. I guess it can't make things worse...right?
Home Depot--well, fine. But their timing stinks. Do you know how many round trips to Athens we could have saved if they'd opened, say, four years ago? ;-)
Never a dull moment!
Then we watched CNE's son trying to pull out a tree stump, first by tying it to his 4x4, then by tying it to the bumper of a pickup truck. The first time, he did a lot of wheelies. The second time, the top of the stump splintered and the truck jumped forward as all the bystanders scurried out of the way. We had hoped the bumper would just shear off, but this was almost as dramatic.
After dinner, we got the newspaper. The headline read: "Two Heavyweights to Open Near I-20 in Near Future--Home Depot and Wal-Mart."
The site is 10 or 15 miles away, at the Greensboro exit.
How should I feel about this? I hate Wal-Mart. Their employees make crappy wages and get crappy benefits. They squeeze small businesses out of existence by demanding cripplingly low wholesale prices. They kill local businesses. On the other hand, unemployment in our county is sky-high, the majority of the people are living in abject poverty, and the downtowns are already completely deceased. I guess it can't make things worse...right?
Home Depot--well, fine. But their timing stinks. Do you know how many round trips to Athens we could have saved if they'd opened, say, four years ago? ;-)
Never a dull moment!
Trivia
Nearly a week ago, right about the time I got this blasted cold (which is starting to get better, and it's about time!!!!), Ilva tagged me with this meme. Since my head is still a big ol' dextromethorphan balloon, bobbing around on a string just above my shoulders, I'm going to tackle the meme rather than attempt to write anything on my own.
I think almost everyone's done this one, so I'm not going to tag anybody. But take it if you want it!
10 Things You Never Knew About Me
1. I really like Bollywood movies. And military history movies. There's probably a Bollywood military history movie somewhere out there, just waiting for me to discover it.
2. I subscribe to both Vogue and Scientific American.
3. When I started college, I was absolutely positive I was going to be an art major. I ended up becoming an English major. Then I went to grad school and got a Master's degree in paleontology. To this day, I continue to have a short attention span on a grand scale. I am interested in everything on earth...for a day or two.
4. I am a Gemini. See #3.
5. Some of my grad school research was conducted on a weapons testing range in southern California. I had to get special permission from the government to go there, and only on the condition that I be escorted at all times and NOT TOUCH ANYTHING METAL.
6. The rest of my grad school research took place in Costa Rica, where I experienced several earthquakes. I don't like earthquakes. I started dreaming about them every night while I was there, and it took a long time for the dreams to go away completely.
7. The first vehicle I owned was a 1973 Ford F250 pickup truck. I described the color as "toothpaste aqua." I paid $550 for it. I had a policy of listening to only country music when I drove it.
8. My hair has always been pin-straight, but now that some of it is turning silver (shhhh....I get it colored), the texture is changing. It has a teeny little bit of natural wave. I can't complain, because it's what I've always wanted.
9. I love old architecture and would not consider living in any house or apartment that was built post-1950.
10. I think the Assyrian folk singer guy who tried out for American Idol this year got robbed.
I think almost everyone's done this one, so I'm not going to tag anybody. But take it if you want it!
10 Things You Never Knew About Me
1. I really like Bollywood movies. And military history movies. There's probably a Bollywood military history movie somewhere out there, just waiting for me to discover it.
2. I subscribe to both Vogue and Scientific American.
3. When I started college, I was absolutely positive I was going to be an art major. I ended up becoming an English major. Then I went to grad school and got a Master's degree in paleontology. To this day, I continue to have a short attention span on a grand scale. I am interested in everything on earth...for a day or two.
4. I am a Gemini. See #3.
5. Some of my grad school research was conducted on a weapons testing range in southern California. I had to get special permission from the government to go there, and only on the condition that I be escorted at all times and NOT TOUCH ANYTHING METAL.
6. The rest of my grad school research took place in Costa Rica, where I experienced several earthquakes. I don't like earthquakes. I started dreaming about them every night while I was there, and it took a long time for the dreams to go away completely.
7. The first vehicle I owned was a 1973 Ford F250 pickup truck. I described the color as "toothpaste aqua." I paid $550 for it. I had a policy of listening to only country music when I drove it.
8. My hair has always been pin-straight, but now that some of it is turning silver (shhhh....I get it colored), the texture is changing. It has a teeny little bit of natural wave. I can't complain, because it's what I've always wanted.
9. I love old architecture and would not consider living in any house or apartment that was built post-1950.
10. I think the Assyrian folk singer guy who tried out for American Idol this year got robbed.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Sunday, January 15, 2006
Friday, January 13, 2006
Who left the door open?
Oh, wait, that is a door. A most excellent door. It's a brand new storm door that blocks road noise and stops the heretofore incessant whistling-in of drafty winter air, yet is almost completely invisible.
The metal part is grey-blue to match the house. I'll show you the view from outside once we get the trim back on.
The dogs love this, obviously.
The metal part is grey-blue to match the house. I'll show you the view from outside once we get the trim back on.
The dogs love this, obviously.
Thursday, January 12, 2006
Sizzle
Yes, it's really good. I know it's silly, but I'm kind of aghast that it could be this easy to make bacon. I didn't even miss the smokiness...although the s.o. might build us a smoker for future endeavors.
ADDENDUM:
I just realized I never did say exactly how to make bacon. Basically, you make up a 2:1 mixture of plain uniodized salt and brown sugar. Grind in plenty of black pepper and crumble in some bay leaves. Some smashed juniper berries are a nice addition, too.
Rub this mixture into your pork bellies and stack them in a Rubbermaid tub. Every day, drain out the liquid that has accumulated, rub more of the salt/sugar mixture on the meat, and re-stack it with the slabs that were previously on the bottom on the top. After 4 or 5 days, you'll have a lightly cured bacon, ideal for breakfast. Just rinse it, blot off the water, and air-dry it for a little while. It will need to be refrigerated or frozen. A more heavily cured belly (say, 8 days) willl keep for weeks if wrapped in muslin and hung in a cool place.
ADDENDUM:
I just realized I never did say exactly how to make bacon. Basically, you make up a 2:1 mixture of plain uniodized salt and brown sugar. Grind in plenty of black pepper and crumble in some bay leaves. Some smashed juniper berries are a nice addition, too.
Rub this mixture into your pork bellies and stack them in a Rubbermaid tub. Every day, drain out the liquid that has accumulated, rub more of the salt/sugar mixture on the meat, and re-stack it with the slabs that were previously on the bottom on the top. After 4 or 5 days, you'll have a lightly cured bacon, ideal for breakfast. Just rinse it, blot off the water, and air-dry it for a little while. It will need to be refrigerated or frozen. A more heavily cured belly (say, 8 days) willl keep for weeks if wrapped in muslin and hung in a cool place.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
The dogs must be crazy
When she was here for the holidays, my mom loaned me How Dogs Think by Stanley Coren. I loved it. It has had an indelible effect on the way I see the three canines who share our home.
In a couple of ways, the book inspired empathy. The section about stoicness in dogs was rough for me, considering Silver's recent troubles with her knees.* Also, it turns out dogs lack heat receptors in most areas of their skin, so when they seek out sunbeams, they're just trying to turn off their cold receptors. As a person with Raynaud's Syndrome who is forever trying to turn off her danged cold receptors, I practically teared up when I read that. They're like me! I thought.
But of course, they're not like me at all. They only have two of the three kinds of color receptors we have in our eyes, so they see colors in a spectrum from blue to yellow to brown. That happens to be, with almost no exceptions, the spectrum our house is decorated in. I may have unwittingly created a House That Dogs Can See...except for a couple of red chairs in the living room, which shall forever remain a dark-grey mystery to them.
Mostly, the book made me feel a profound respect for my furry housemates. It's one thing to know that dogs can find escaped criminals; it's another thing altogether to start to understand how they do it. They pick up scent on teeny little rafts of escaped skin cells. By the concentration, they can tell which direction a person is moving in. They can tell which part of the body the smell is coming from. And they can even tell identical twins apart, providing that the twins haven't eaten exactly the same diet. Holy cow.
With this in mind, I've been thinking about the dogs' reactions to all the pork around here. I handle the bacon daily in order to massage the cure into it. Every day I open the ham tub at least once, usually twice or three times, to swap out the freeze packs that keep it chilled. Last night I cooked a really good stir-fry with one of the unnameable cuts of meat we ended up with because we aren't professional butchers.** I must smell like pork CONSTANTLY to our dogs, no matter how much I wash. They must be going bananas.
And now I really, really smell like pork because I took out one of our big slabs of bacon, rinsed it off, blotted it dry, and stuck it on a drying rack in the fridge to air-dry until tomorrow morning. You see, there are two kinds of homemade bacon: the very salty kind that can be stored in a cool place almost indefinitely; and the kind that's optimal, taste-wise, for breakfast. This particular slab was rescued from the cure because it is destined to be the latter. It's not cured deeply enough to keep well, but we need it now, for egg accompaniment purposes.
Tomorrow is Bacon Eating Day.
----------
* By the way, Silv went back to the doctor after two weeks on the Rimadyl and the gluc/chon, and her knees were still popping right out when the vet flexed them. Surgery looks almost inevitable. However, we've now hit the three-week mark, which is when the gluc/chon should be starting to kick in, and I swear I can see a spring in that dog's step. She seems pretty happy. I will keep you posted.
** I wish I had better words to describe how delicious it tasted. Despite the leanness of whatever cut it was, it was tender yet substantial, and it had fabulous depth of flavor.
In a couple of ways, the book inspired empathy. The section about stoicness in dogs was rough for me, considering Silver's recent troubles with her knees.* Also, it turns out dogs lack heat receptors in most areas of their skin, so when they seek out sunbeams, they're just trying to turn off their cold receptors. As a person with Raynaud's Syndrome who is forever trying to turn off her danged cold receptors, I practically teared up when I read that. They're like me! I thought.
But of course, they're not like me at all. They only have two of the three kinds of color receptors we have in our eyes, so they see colors in a spectrum from blue to yellow to brown. That happens to be, with almost no exceptions, the spectrum our house is decorated in. I may have unwittingly created a House That Dogs Can See...except for a couple of red chairs in the living room, which shall forever remain a dark-grey mystery to them.
Mostly, the book made me feel a profound respect for my furry housemates. It's one thing to know that dogs can find escaped criminals; it's another thing altogether to start to understand how they do it. They pick up scent on teeny little rafts of escaped skin cells. By the concentration, they can tell which direction a person is moving in. They can tell which part of the body the smell is coming from. And they can even tell identical twins apart, providing that the twins haven't eaten exactly the same diet. Holy cow.
With this in mind, I've been thinking about the dogs' reactions to all the pork around here. I handle the bacon daily in order to massage the cure into it. Every day I open the ham tub at least once, usually twice or three times, to swap out the freeze packs that keep it chilled. Last night I cooked a really good stir-fry with one of the unnameable cuts of meat we ended up with because we aren't professional butchers.** I must smell like pork CONSTANTLY to our dogs, no matter how much I wash. They must be going bananas.
And now I really, really smell like pork because I took out one of our big slabs of bacon, rinsed it off, blotted it dry, and stuck it on a drying rack in the fridge to air-dry until tomorrow morning. You see, there are two kinds of homemade bacon: the very salty kind that can be stored in a cool place almost indefinitely; and the kind that's optimal, taste-wise, for breakfast. This particular slab was rescued from the cure because it is destined to be the latter. It's not cured deeply enough to keep well, but we need it now, for egg accompaniment purposes.
Tomorrow is Bacon Eating Day.
----------
* By the way, Silv went back to the doctor after two weeks on the Rimadyl and the gluc/chon, and her knees were still popping right out when the vet flexed them. Surgery looks almost inevitable. However, we've now hit the three-week mark, which is when the gluc/chon should be starting to kick in, and I swear I can see a spring in that dog's step. She seems pretty happy. I will keep you posted.
** I wish I had better words to describe how delicious it tasted. Despite the leanness of whatever cut it was, it was tender yet substantial, and it had fabulous depth of flavor.
Monday, January 09, 2006
Global warming?
This morning I rubbed my sleepy eyes and looked out the kitchen window to see...a robin.
Sunday, January 08, 2006
As I peruse the seed catalogs...
...the s.o. is outside with a flat-bladed shovel, scraping up turf. He is roughly doubling the size of the vegetable garden. He is my hero.
Oh, and I planted a few peppers in the greenhouse, just to see if I could get away with it.
Today there was a high of 60-ish degrees outside, but I know there will be a whole lot more frozenness before all is said and done.
Oh, and I planted a few peppers in the greenhouse, just to see if I could get away with it.
Today there was a high of 60-ish degrees outside, but I know there will be a whole lot more frozenness before all is said and done.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
Early plantings
In the greenhouse (already lush with young radishes and lettuce): Cherry and Yellow Jubilee tomatoes.
Outdoors: Sugar snap peas, shelling peas, and sorrel.
I need to get off my butt immediately and order seeds for spring planting! That may very well be my favorite shopping activity of the year...the time when all fantasies are fulfilled. I've already been making (and subsequently misplacing) lists for months.
Outdoors: Sugar snap peas, shelling peas, and sorrel.
I need to get off my butt immediately and order seeds for spring planting! That may very well be my favorite shopping activity of the year...the time when all fantasies are fulfilled. I've already been making (and subsequently misplacing) lists for months.
Friday, January 06, 2006
Action shot
Stuffing sausages with a KitchenAid mixer, the grinder attachment, and the sausage stuffer attachment-to-the-attachment, is a two-person job. One person needs to keep the casing flowing at the right rate, while the other person pushes ground meat into the hopper.
Note the plastic containers labeled "hog casing" in the background. I was able to get the casings off the shelf in the meat department of Moon's Grocery, Greensboro, Ga. Bobby Fries would have sold them to me, too, but in much larger quantities. This way I got exactly what we needed for less than $6.
Note the plastic containers labeled "hog casing" in the background. I was able to get the casings off the shelf in the meat department of Moon's Grocery, Greensboro, Ga. Bobby Fries would have sold them to me, too, but in much larger quantities. This way I got exactly what we needed for less than $6.
Whew!
Well, we did it! And there was a lot of "it" to do. Our half pig weighed in at 112 pounds.
I can't say enough about the meat processor we went to. It's called Fries Frozen Foods, and it's in the town of Millen, Ga., in the uncharted region south of Augusta. "Fries" is the family name, and it's pronounced "freeze."
The proprietor, Bobby Fries, graduated from Auburn University in the early 1970s and was accepted to Mercer Law School. But he went home to work for his father that summer (as he had done most of his life) and just couldn't leave. Meat processing was in his blood...and, he figured, the world probably had enough lawyers.
He does things right. The plant is small and so clean that you could probably eat off the floor. There's a real smokehouse on site. Mr. Fries disapproves of the way the majority of processors inject hams with artificial flavor, paint them with liquid smoke, bake them for an hour, and call them "cured." He cures and smokes his meats the old-fashioned way. A giant stack of bagged hickory chips in the storeroom bears witness to this fact.
He commissioned a spice company in Texas to make a proprietary sausage mix for him. He tested scores of samples before finding the perfect one. He had to go out of state to find a producer, since most sausage mixes are made with extracts rather than real spices.
Bobby Fries's son had meat processing in his blood, too, and decided to work for the family business rather than finishing college the way his father encouraged him to. But he was killed several years ago, so now Mr. Fries figures that when he retires, the business will close. No grocery-store butcher can do what he does; they simply don't have the skill set, because grocery stores receive meat already cut up from the big corporations.
I don't know why I'm writing this, except if anyone's looking for a direction in life, you could do a lot worse than apprenticing with Bobby Fries. I really hope these old-fashioned ways don't die out.
Anyhow, the pig. The first order of business was to put the liver, half head, and trotters in the freezer, because there is plenty to do on processing day without even beginning to think about those things.
We put the s.o.'s laptop, with the Pig in a Day DVD loaded in it, in a handy location on the back porch (AKA processing area), sharpened the knives, made up a tub of bleach water, and started cutting. When all the cutting was done, we did a little charcuterie. Here's what we ended up with:
• One giant rack and one mini rack of ribs
• Three big slabs of bacon (currently curing in a salty, brown-sugary rub)
• A 19.5-pound ham (currently submerged in a giant bucket of cidery brine)
• Eight one-inch-thick loin chops
• Four thin boneless shoulder chops
• A tenderloin
• A gigantic boneless rolled loin roast
• Several other rolled roasts whose names I forget
• A hock
• 81, yes, 81 sausages (Italian, English breakfast, and a few experimental chorizos)
• I'm probably forgetting a whole bunch of other things
Yesterday we never had a proper dinner--it was sort of beside the point. Late in the afternoon we fried up a piece of belly and reveled in its deep, porky flavor. Several other times we fried up little patties of sausage mix for quality control purposes. I would make the Italian sausage a little less salty if I had it to do again. Otherwise I am more than pleased with our efforts.
At this point, the majority of the excess fat is in the oven, rendering into homemade lard. The dogs have been sniffing around obsessively for a full day, trying to figure out if there's a way they can get sausages off the ceiling hooks on the porch (but that chance is fast fading...everything but the chorizo is done hanging and has been moved to the freezer).
The half pig cost us $237 including processing. If you do the math, I'm sure you can see how profitable this venture was. Even if it were not a free-range pig with an organic diet that included everything from cowpeas to corn, it would still be an incredible bargain.
I will post a few more pics of the processing as the mood strikes me.
I can't say enough about the meat processor we went to. It's called Fries Frozen Foods, and it's in the town of Millen, Ga., in the uncharted region south of Augusta. "Fries" is the family name, and it's pronounced "freeze."
The proprietor, Bobby Fries, graduated from Auburn University in the early 1970s and was accepted to Mercer Law School. But he went home to work for his father that summer (as he had done most of his life) and just couldn't leave. Meat processing was in his blood...and, he figured, the world probably had enough lawyers.
He does things right. The plant is small and so clean that you could probably eat off the floor. There's a real smokehouse on site. Mr. Fries disapproves of the way the majority of processors inject hams with artificial flavor, paint them with liquid smoke, bake them for an hour, and call them "cured." He cures and smokes his meats the old-fashioned way. A giant stack of bagged hickory chips in the storeroom bears witness to this fact.
He commissioned a spice company in Texas to make a proprietary sausage mix for him. He tested scores of samples before finding the perfect one. He had to go out of state to find a producer, since most sausage mixes are made with extracts rather than real spices.
Bobby Fries's son had meat processing in his blood, too, and decided to work for the family business rather than finishing college the way his father encouraged him to. But he was killed several years ago, so now Mr. Fries figures that when he retires, the business will close. No grocery-store butcher can do what he does; they simply don't have the skill set, because grocery stores receive meat already cut up from the big corporations.
I don't know why I'm writing this, except if anyone's looking for a direction in life, you could do a lot worse than apprenticing with Bobby Fries. I really hope these old-fashioned ways don't die out.
Anyhow, the pig. The first order of business was to put the liver, half head, and trotters in the freezer, because there is plenty to do on processing day without even beginning to think about those things.
We put the s.o.'s laptop, with the Pig in a Day DVD loaded in it, in a handy location on the back porch (AKA processing area), sharpened the knives, made up a tub of bleach water, and started cutting. When all the cutting was done, we did a little charcuterie. Here's what we ended up with:
• One giant rack and one mini rack of ribs
• Three big slabs of bacon (currently curing in a salty, brown-sugary rub)
• A 19.5-pound ham (currently submerged in a giant bucket of cidery brine)
• Eight one-inch-thick loin chops
• Four thin boneless shoulder chops
• A tenderloin
• A gigantic boneless rolled loin roast
• Several other rolled roasts whose names I forget
• A hock
• 81, yes, 81 sausages (Italian, English breakfast, and a few experimental chorizos)
• I'm probably forgetting a whole bunch of other things
Yesterday we never had a proper dinner--it was sort of beside the point. Late in the afternoon we fried up a piece of belly and reveled in its deep, porky flavor. Several other times we fried up little patties of sausage mix for quality control purposes. I would make the Italian sausage a little less salty if I had it to do again. Otherwise I am more than pleased with our efforts.
At this point, the majority of the excess fat is in the oven, rendering into homemade lard. The dogs have been sniffing around obsessively for a full day, trying to figure out if there's a way they can get sausages off the ceiling hooks on the porch (but that chance is fast fading...everything but the chorizo is done hanging and has been moved to the freezer).
The half pig cost us $237 including processing. If you do the math, I'm sure you can see how profitable this venture was. Even if it were not a free-range pig with an organic diet that included everything from cowpeas to corn, it would still be an incredible bargain.
I will post a few more pics of the processing as the mood strikes me.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
Riddle
How is half a pig like a custom screen door?
Both are things we ordered in December that are just now coming to fruition. We pick up the half pig at the abattoir tomorrow morning. The installation date for the screen door is yet to be confirmed.
I will try to post a lot about the half pig. We're getting it in primal cuts so we can cure our own ham and bacon and make our own sausages. Tonight we'll be reviewing our Pig in a Day with Hugh and Ray DVD so we will be on top of our game! This is new for us.
By the way, sorry for the lack of new posts lately. We've had family visiting--good timing on their part, since the weather was idyllic! We've had a wonderful time, but not much time to spare. And now I have a deadline, arrrrgghhh...
Both are things we ordered in December that are just now coming to fruition. We pick up the half pig at the abattoir tomorrow morning. The installation date for the screen door is yet to be confirmed.
I will try to post a lot about the half pig. We're getting it in primal cuts so we can cure our own ham and bacon and make our own sausages. Tonight we'll be reviewing our Pig in a Day with Hugh and Ray DVD so we will be on top of our game! This is new for us.
By the way, sorry for the lack of new posts lately. We've had family visiting--good timing on their part, since the weather was idyllic! We've had a wonderful time, but not much time to spare. And now I have a deadline, arrrrgghhh...
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Resolutions?
So is anyone else resolving anything for the new year? My top two resolutions are these:
1. Learn to knit really. Like, more than just scarves. I may ask some of you for help. You know who you are.
2. Get to know more about Atlanta, which, despite its proximity (1:20) is mostly a big black box to me. (It's not really the greatest city. Overall, it's extremely "eh." But the DeKalb Farmer's Market has improved our lives so much; surely it can't be the only thing. Stepsister just informed me that there is an Australian bakery I didn't know about. We will maybe meet there for tea sometime. It's a good start.)
1. Learn to knit really. Like, more than just scarves. I may ask some of you for help. You know who you are.
2. Get to know more about Atlanta, which, despite its proximity (1:20) is mostly a big black box to me. (It's not really the greatest city. Overall, it's extremely "eh." But the DeKalb Farmer's Market has improved our lives so much; surely it can't be the only thing. Stepsister just informed me that there is an Australian bakery I didn't know about. We will maybe meet there for tea sometime. It's a good start.)
Thursday, December 29, 2005
So-called buche de noel
Hmm.
Well, Maggie made a buche de noel (see her Dec. 22 post), and it looked like a lovely little cake that you would want to eat. Mine, not so much.
Here is my attempt. This is its best angle. From other angles, it looks somewhat less convincing.
Is it a Yule log, or a dog turd? Only the "artist" knows for sure!
I record it here only because I am fairly certain it will fall to pieces on its way to my stepsister's place tomorrow. Also, someone needs to know what to tell the paramedics if I go into sugar shock from sampling so much buttercream...
Well, Maggie made a buche de noel (see her Dec. 22 post), and it looked like a lovely little cake that you would want to eat. Mine, not so much.
Here is my attempt. This is its best angle. From other angles, it looks somewhat less convincing.
Is it a Yule log, or a dog turd? Only the "artist" knows for sure!
I record it here only because I am fairly certain it will fall to pieces on its way to my stepsister's place tomorrow. Also, someone needs to know what to tell the paramedics if I go into sugar shock from sampling so much buttercream...
Sunday, December 25, 2005
Date pudding
Recipe coming soon...Merry Christmas!
Update 12/29
Whew...time keeps getting away from me! But here's that recipe I promised. It's adapted from The Joy of Cooking, and it's a very manageable size; it fits a 4-cup pudding mold. If you don't have a metal mold with a tight-fitting lid, I'm told you can use a bowl with a towel tightly tied over it. However, I can't vouch for that method, since I haven't tried it.
This is especially nice served with hard sauce (the version I like is basically a butter-and-powdered-sugar frosting with a tablespoon each of brandy and coffee whipped into it). The sauce is solid until it makes contact with the warm pudding, and then it melts. Mmmm!
DATE PUDDING
1 c. packed dark brown sugar
1/4 c. unsalted butter
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour, sifted
2 2/3 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1 c. lowfat milk
3/4 c. chopped dates
1/2 c. chopped pecans (optional)
Before you start combining ingredients, set up your steaming pot. In the bottom of a stockpot, place a metal trivet and/or some other device that will hold your pudding mold an inch or more off the bottom of the pot and allow complete circulation of steam. I use three English muffin rings with a shallow trivet on top. Anything will work, as long as it's heat- and water-resistant, is high enough off the bottom, and allows the steam to circulate. An inverted flat-bottomed metal colander might be good. They probably make something explicitly for this purpose, but whatever it is, I don't own one.
Add an inch of water to the bottom of the pot, put the lid on, and bring it to a simmer while you assemble the batter.
Heavily, thoroughly butter your pudding mold.
Cream together the brown sugar and butter. Add the egg and vanilla and keep beating until the mixture is creamy.
Sift the flour together with the baking powder and salt. Add to the butter mixture in three stages, alternating with the milk. After every addition, beat the batter until it is smooth.
Fold in the dates and nuts, then pour the batter into the mold. Clamp the lid on and place in the simmering stockpot.
Steam for 2 hours (first bringing the water to a boil, then reducing to a simmer for the remainder of the time). Try to avoid peeking, or you'll let all the steam out.
When the time is up, remove the mold from the pot and pop the top off. The pudding should be spongy and moist. Let it cool partway before unmolding it, or it will crack.
Update 12/29
Whew...time keeps getting away from me! But here's that recipe I promised. It's adapted from The Joy of Cooking, and it's a very manageable size; it fits a 4-cup pudding mold. If you don't have a metal mold with a tight-fitting lid, I'm told you can use a bowl with a towel tightly tied over it. However, I can't vouch for that method, since I haven't tried it.
This is especially nice served with hard sauce (the version I like is basically a butter-and-powdered-sugar frosting with a tablespoon each of brandy and coffee whipped into it). The sauce is solid until it makes contact with the warm pudding, and then it melts. Mmmm!
DATE PUDDING
1 c. packed dark brown sugar
1/4 c. unsalted butter
1 egg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour, sifted
2 2/3 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1 c. lowfat milk
3/4 c. chopped dates
1/2 c. chopped pecans (optional)
Before you start combining ingredients, set up your steaming pot. In the bottom of a stockpot, place a metal trivet and/or some other device that will hold your pudding mold an inch or more off the bottom of the pot and allow complete circulation of steam. I use three English muffin rings with a shallow trivet on top. Anything will work, as long as it's heat- and water-resistant, is high enough off the bottom, and allows the steam to circulate. An inverted flat-bottomed metal colander might be good. They probably make something explicitly for this purpose, but whatever it is, I don't own one.
Add an inch of water to the bottom of the pot, put the lid on, and bring it to a simmer while you assemble the batter.
Heavily, thoroughly butter your pudding mold.
Cream together the brown sugar and butter. Add the egg and vanilla and keep beating until the mixture is creamy.
Sift the flour together with the baking powder and salt. Add to the butter mixture in three stages, alternating with the milk. After every addition, beat the batter until it is smooth.
Fold in the dates and nuts, then pour the batter into the mold. Clamp the lid on and place in the simmering stockpot.
Steam for 2 hours (first bringing the water to a boil, then reducing to a simmer for the remainder of the time). Try to avoid peeking, or you'll let all the steam out.
When the time is up, remove the mold from the pot and pop the top off. The pudding should be spongy and moist. Let it cool partway before unmolding it, or it will crack.
Saturday, December 24, 2005
Vastly amusing
Slogans on dog bandanas received for Christmas:
Silver - "It's not easy being a princess"
Cairo - "Don't just stand there, pet me"
Gracie - "Wild thing"
Heh.
Silver - "It's not easy being a princess"
Cairo - "Don't just stand there, pet me"
Gracie - "Wild thing"
Heh.
Friday, December 23, 2005
News flash x2
Silver seems to be feeling quite a bit sprightlier. A million thanks to all of you who have wished her well. I love all our dogs equally and with all my heart, but Silver's the one who could be described (in terms most often associated with witches and their black cats) as my familiar. She's my mini-me in herding dog form, and it gives me so much joy to see her act a little more like herself again.
Much less importantly, but still joyfully, the radishes and spinach I planted in the greenhouse are beginning to sprout...unless the thing I saw in the spinach row was just a weed, which, considering my past (lack of) success with spinach, is as likely as not. No sign of the lettuce yet, but I await. It's niiiiiiiice in that greenhouse. On a chilly, sunny day like today, walking in there is like entering a room that houses an indoor pool. Humidity drips off the roof. Wow.
Much less importantly, but still joyfully, the radishes and spinach I planted in the greenhouse are beginning to sprout...unless the thing I saw in the spinach row was just a weed, which, considering my past (lack of) success with spinach, is as likely as not. No sign of the lettuce yet, but I await. It's niiiiiiiice in that greenhouse. On a chilly, sunny day like today, walking in there is like entering a room that houses an indoor pool. Humidity drips off the roof. Wow.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
A scary day
Yesterday morning, Silver was reclining on the papasan when she made one of those tentative washing-machine noises that might or might not mean a dog is about to vomit. I immediately jumped up from my chair and ordered her off the furniture as a precautionary measure.
Silver obediently leapt off the papasan, but when she hit the floor, her legs crumpled under her. And suddenly my beautiful girl was flailing uncontrollably, almost convulsing, on the floor, and there was not a thing I could do to help her.
I think I screamed, because within moments the s.o. was out of bed.
By then Silver was lying nearby, wild-eyed and stress-panting. I asked her if she wanted to get up, and she did, but her back legs were stiff and uncompliant. She settled back into a sphinx position and stayed there.
In a few minutes she hobbled across the room, then lay down again. Every few minutes she got better, but what chilled me to the bone was that she wasn't right.
I cancelled my afternoon appointments and took her to the vet. And once we were in the tiny examination room with the doctor, the words spilled out of me. Not only was this morning's incident terrifying, but it confirmed my worst fears. For weeks, Silver hadn't looked right. She seemed a little sluggish and stiff, and she'd put on a few pounds. Two weeks ago, I had playfully goosed her on the hindquarters and she had screamed. The s.o. had tried to quiet my fears, saying I had just startled her, but I knew she had seen me coming. Something was very wrong.
The vet talked with me a little (she really was comforting and helpful--must remember to request her in the future) and then took Silver into the back for blood tests and x-rays. I tried, without much success, to interest myself in a copy of Dog Fancy. But it took less time than I expected, and soon the vet brought Silver back and gave me the news.
The good news was that Silver's blood panel is perfect, and that her hips look great. There is also nothing wrong with her spine.
The problem is her knees. Silver has a condition called medial patella luxation, meaning that her kneecaps don't stay within the grooves they're supposed to slide in, but tend to displace toward the middle of her body. Her left is worse than the right. It was the one that had popped completely out that morning, leaving her flailing in pain and fear.
She may have to have surgery on one or both knees in the future, but there's also a chance the problem can be managed with drugs and neutraceuticals. It turns out that both NSAIDs and glucosamine/chondroitin supplements are available as meat-flavored chewables.
And she has to lose some weight, inactivity or no. That should help take the stress off her knees, and maybe they'll be able to work smoothly.
I don't mind taking a little extra care of my girl, and I don't mind paying for drugs and/or surgery. What bothers me is the knowledge that she has been in so much pain, and that there might be more to come. Imagine your kneecaps going out! -- okay, don't, because when I imagine that, my stomach churns from the mere thought. She's been walking around with her back legs stiff because on some level she has figured out that her kneecaps stay in place better when her knees are extended. God, I just feel so bad for her. I love her so much, I just want to scream "STOP! This can't happen!"
But we can hope for the best. And I don't know how fast NSAIDs work, but she does seem a little happier this morning.
Silver obediently leapt off the papasan, but when she hit the floor, her legs crumpled under her. And suddenly my beautiful girl was flailing uncontrollably, almost convulsing, on the floor, and there was not a thing I could do to help her.
I think I screamed, because within moments the s.o. was out of bed.
By then Silver was lying nearby, wild-eyed and stress-panting. I asked her if she wanted to get up, and she did, but her back legs were stiff and uncompliant. She settled back into a sphinx position and stayed there.
In a few minutes she hobbled across the room, then lay down again. Every few minutes she got better, but what chilled me to the bone was that she wasn't right.
I cancelled my afternoon appointments and took her to the vet. And once we were in the tiny examination room with the doctor, the words spilled out of me. Not only was this morning's incident terrifying, but it confirmed my worst fears. For weeks, Silver hadn't looked right. She seemed a little sluggish and stiff, and she'd put on a few pounds. Two weeks ago, I had playfully goosed her on the hindquarters and she had screamed. The s.o. had tried to quiet my fears, saying I had just startled her, but I knew she had seen me coming. Something was very wrong.
The vet talked with me a little (she really was comforting and helpful--must remember to request her in the future) and then took Silver into the back for blood tests and x-rays. I tried, without much success, to interest myself in a copy of Dog Fancy. But it took less time than I expected, and soon the vet brought Silver back and gave me the news.
The good news was that Silver's blood panel is perfect, and that her hips look great. There is also nothing wrong with her spine.
The problem is her knees. Silver has a condition called medial patella luxation, meaning that her kneecaps don't stay within the grooves they're supposed to slide in, but tend to displace toward the middle of her body. Her left is worse than the right. It was the one that had popped completely out that morning, leaving her flailing in pain and fear.
She may have to have surgery on one or both knees in the future, but there's also a chance the problem can be managed with drugs and neutraceuticals. It turns out that both NSAIDs and glucosamine/chondroitin supplements are available as meat-flavored chewables.
And she has to lose some weight, inactivity or no. That should help take the stress off her knees, and maybe they'll be able to work smoothly.
I don't mind taking a little extra care of my girl, and I don't mind paying for drugs and/or surgery. What bothers me is the knowledge that she has been in so much pain, and that there might be more to come. Imagine your kneecaps going out! -- okay, don't, because when I imagine that, my stomach churns from the mere thought. She's been walking around with her back legs stiff because on some level she has figured out that her kneecaps stay in place better when her knees are extended. God, I just feel so bad for her. I love her so much, I just want to scream "STOP! This can't happen!"
But we can hope for the best. And I don't know how fast NSAIDs work, but she does seem a little happier this morning.
Monday, December 19, 2005
Blast from the past
Welcome to our town.
This is a Jack Delano photo of our town's crossroads in 1941, when it was considerably busier than it is now. That smokestack in the background? Gone. The two buildings in the back left? Replaced by a hay field.
The store on the right is still there, although it no longer has a gas pump. It is run by two really great Pakistani guys (who I've mentioned before, I think), and it's the de facto center of town.
The brick building on the left is the Town Hall.
There is no longer a path on the right; somewhere along the line, it was replaced with a proper sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. So the people in the picture are walking in what is now our neighbor Cookie's yard. It would have looked different then; the house was a grand old antebellum mansion with pillars. But it burned to the ground in 1996, and Cookie and her husband built a somewhat smaller house on the old foundation.
What's strange is that this photo is instantly recognizable by anyone who's been here, despite all the changes.
This is a Jack Delano photo of our town's crossroads in 1941, when it was considerably busier than it is now. That smokestack in the background? Gone. The two buildings in the back left? Replaced by a hay field.
The store on the right is still there, although it no longer has a gas pump. It is run by two really great Pakistani guys (who I've mentioned before, I think), and it's the de facto center of town.
The brick building on the left is the Town Hall.
There is no longer a path on the right; somewhere along the line, it was replaced with a proper sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. So the people in the picture are walking in what is now our neighbor Cookie's yard. It would have looked different then; the house was a grand old antebellum mansion with pillars. But it burned to the ground in 1996, and Cookie and her husband built a somewhat smaller house on the old foundation.
What's strange is that this photo is instantly recognizable by anyone who's been here, despite all the changes.
Sunday, December 18, 2005
Tunage
Liz at Pocket Farm has tagged me with a quick and easy little meme that I'm all too glad to do: List seven songs you are into right now. Well, sure. The thing is, a while ago I completely stopped buying music, so the songs you see below are just things I've happened upon online and enjoyed.
Warning: Sometimes I have flawless, unimpeachable taste. But other times I might as well be 15 years old. So wince if you must, but don't mock.
1. "You Only Live Once" - The Strokes
2. "Since U Been Gone" - Kelly Clarkson
3. "Use It" - The New Pornographers
4. "Service and Repair" - Calexico
5. "Dirty Little Secret" - The All-American Rejects
6. "Blow it Out" - The Features
7. "Fountains of Wayne Hotline" - Robbie Fulks
Anyone else want to try? I'm supposed to nominate seven more people. How 'bout you, Cookiecrumb? Ilva? Maggie? m.d.? Szarka? Jo? Doc Rob? It can be any kind of music, with words or without.
No obligation, of course. It is a busy time of year.
Warning: Sometimes I have flawless, unimpeachable taste. But other times I might as well be 15 years old. So wince if you must, but don't mock.
1. "You Only Live Once" - The Strokes
2. "Since U Been Gone" - Kelly Clarkson
3. "Use It" - The New Pornographers
4. "Service and Repair" - Calexico
5. "Dirty Little Secret" - The All-American Rejects
6. "Blow it Out" - The Features
7. "Fountains of Wayne Hotline" - Robbie Fulks
Anyone else want to try? I'm supposed to nominate seven more people. How 'bout you, Cookiecrumb? Ilva? Maggie? m.d.? Szarka? Jo? Doc Rob? It can be any kind of music, with words or without.
No obligation, of course. It is a busy time of year.
Friday, December 16, 2005
Oh, no
E-mail from my mother this evening:
[Stepfather] had bad news from [stepsister] today about their chickens. A dog got into the yard and killed all but one
rooster (badly bitten) and one hen that was saved by the fact she was inside laying an egg. So they are depressed.
What a rotten turn of events. I feel so bad for them. I guess they are investigating some better fencing now. *sigh*
[Stepfather] had bad news from [stepsister] today about their chickens. A dog got into the yard and killed all but one
rooster (badly bitten) and one hen that was saved by the fact she was inside laying an egg. So they are depressed.
What a rotten turn of events. I feel so bad for them. I guess they are investigating some better fencing now. *sigh*
Thursday, December 15, 2005
I had forgotten how much fun this was
Making Yorkshire pudding, I mean. Look how cool it looks as it rises! But I am almost certain that my British readers will be a little disturbed at my breach of tradition.
You see, there was no roast beef on the menu. It was braised lamb. But I needed something to sop up the juices, and it was way too late to make yeast bread. Beer bread was out, too, because there was no beer. So I hit upon the idea of Yorkshire pudding.
I saved some lamb fat from the meat pan before I added the braising liquid, and I used that fat in the pudding in place of beef drippings. It worked like a charm.
Now, for my non-British readers: Here is how to make a Yorkshire pudding. I grew up thinking everyone was familiar with this dish, because my mom (and of course my British grandmother) made it when I was young. But when I served this last night, it was the first time the s.o. had ever seen, let alone eaten, one. I figure a lot of people are in the same boat.
It's good stuff--the perfect accompaniment for roast beef (or, ahem, whatever). And it is way too much fun to miss out on.
YORKSHIRE PUDDING
2 eggs
1/2 tsp. salt
1 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. milk (whole is best, but 2% will do)
2 Tbs. roast beef drippings
In a blender, combine the eggs, salt, flour, and milk. Blend for a few seconds, then scrape the sides down and blend again for 30 seconds. Refrigerate for at least 45 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. In a large, fairly deep rectangular or oval pan (mine is about 10x12), heat the drippings over a moderate flame until they start to spit. Give the batter one last stir, then quickly pour it into the hot pan and put it in the oven.
Bake 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 375 degrees F and bake 15 minutes more. Cut and serve immediately.
You see, there was no roast beef on the menu. It was braised lamb. But I needed something to sop up the juices, and it was way too late to make yeast bread. Beer bread was out, too, because there was no beer. So I hit upon the idea of Yorkshire pudding.
I saved some lamb fat from the meat pan before I added the braising liquid, and I used that fat in the pudding in place of beef drippings. It worked like a charm.
Now, for my non-British readers: Here is how to make a Yorkshire pudding. I grew up thinking everyone was familiar with this dish, because my mom (and of course my British grandmother) made it when I was young. But when I served this last night, it was the first time the s.o. had ever seen, let alone eaten, one. I figure a lot of people are in the same boat.
It's good stuff--the perfect accompaniment for roast beef (or, ahem, whatever). And it is way too much fun to miss out on.
YORKSHIRE PUDDING
2 eggs
1/2 tsp. salt
1 c. all-purpose flour
1 c. milk (whole is best, but 2% will do)
2 Tbs. roast beef drippings
In a blender, combine the eggs, salt, flour, and milk. Blend for a few seconds, then scrape the sides down and blend again for 30 seconds. Refrigerate for at least 45 minutes.
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. In a large, fairly deep rectangular or oval pan (mine is about 10x12), heat the drippings over a moderate flame until they start to spit. Give the batter one last stir, then quickly pour it into the hot pan and put it in the oven.
Bake 15 minutes, then reduce heat to 375 degrees F and bake 15 minutes more. Cut and serve immediately.
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Comfort zone
"This is soooooo nice," murmurs the s.o., eyes half shut, from his reclined position on the new sofa.
"Yes, it is," I say, cradling a cup of long-awaited Horizon Organic Eggnog.
"Yes, it is," I say, cradling a cup of long-awaited Horizon Organic Eggnog.
Holiday cheer
Last night was the annual town Christmas party. When you only have 415 residents, you can invite everyone for mini pigs-in-blankets and chicken wings and get away with it.
Last time we were able to attend was three years ago. I remember curling my hair by generator power, in the glow of a flashlight beam. We hadn't finished the wiring or had the heating system installed yet. What a difference three years makes!
Until now, we have unfortunately failed to cultivate a social life around here--I don't know why, but that's how it has happened. We have been kind of reclusive, to put it bluntly. So I went to this party with two important goals in mind: to be friendly with the few people I had met in the past, and to meet new people.
I accomplished both. I gave a big kiss to Cookie, the well-dressed elderly lady from two doors down (recently widowed twice in quick succession, poor thing, and the second one was news to me--now that I know she is alone again, I need to make extra sure to go visit her). And I took a leap of faith and promised to call the mayor's daughter (whom I like a lot) for a cup of coffee.
I met a fiesty, funny 60-something gardening buff named Lucille, who says she will come visit me after the holidays. If she doesn't come to me, I'll go to her! And I was introduced to...wait for it...THE COUPLE WHO OWN THE HORSES ACROSS THE STREET. I don't know how, but I spotted them the moment they walked in the door and told the s.o. I intended to meet them. They just radiated "my kind of people-ness."
Our new hoophouse was literally the talk of the town. The s.o. was constantly having to answer questions about it. "Whatcha gonna put in that greenhouse?" "I noticed you had a greenhouse--did you build that?" etc.
Everyone who attended got raffle tickets. The under-16s got one kind of ticket and the adults got another. Some of the adults came away with door prizes--I won a poinsettia, and I think I may actually have said "Woo hoo!" when my number was called--and four lucky folks won cash prizes to help them through the holidays. But what was really excellent was that every single child in the room won either a football, a basketball, or a soccer ball. The room came alive with bouncing, passing, and tackling.
"What a wonderful thing to do," I stage-whispered to the mayor's daughter.
"For some of them, it's the only present they'll get this Christmas," she stage-whispered back.
And that's why, even though we live in such a desperately poor county, the town council votes every year to throw a party for any of its citizens who want to come.
I really do love it here.
Last time we were able to attend was three years ago. I remember curling my hair by generator power, in the glow of a flashlight beam. We hadn't finished the wiring or had the heating system installed yet. What a difference three years makes!
Until now, we have unfortunately failed to cultivate a social life around here--I don't know why, but that's how it has happened. We have been kind of reclusive, to put it bluntly. So I went to this party with two important goals in mind: to be friendly with the few people I had met in the past, and to meet new people.
I accomplished both. I gave a big kiss to Cookie, the well-dressed elderly lady from two doors down (recently widowed twice in quick succession, poor thing, and the second one was news to me--now that I know she is alone again, I need to make extra sure to go visit her). And I took a leap of faith and promised to call the mayor's daughter (whom I like a lot) for a cup of coffee.
I met a fiesty, funny 60-something gardening buff named Lucille, who says she will come visit me after the holidays. If she doesn't come to me, I'll go to her! And I was introduced to...wait for it...THE COUPLE WHO OWN THE HORSES ACROSS THE STREET. I don't know how, but I spotted them the moment they walked in the door and told the s.o. I intended to meet them. They just radiated "my kind of people-ness."
Our new hoophouse was literally the talk of the town. The s.o. was constantly having to answer questions about it. "Whatcha gonna put in that greenhouse?" "I noticed you had a greenhouse--did you build that?" etc.
Everyone who attended got raffle tickets. The under-16s got one kind of ticket and the adults got another. Some of the adults came away with door prizes--I won a poinsettia, and I think I may actually have said "Woo hoo!" when my number was called--and four lucky folks won cash prizes to help them through the holidays. But what was really excellent was that every single child in the room won either a football, a basketball, or a soccer ball. The room came alive with bouncing, passing, and tackling.
"What a wonderful thing to do," I stage-whispered to the mayor's daughter.
"For some of them, it's the only present they'll get this Christmas," she stage-whispered back.
And that's why, even though we live in such a desperately poor county, the town council votes every year to throw a party for any of its citizens who want to come.
I really do love it here.
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
5 weird habits
Jo has tagged me with the "5 Weird Habits" meme, and boy, do I have 'em. Maybe more than other people, or maybe not. Or maybe they're not weird habits at all. (I can hope, can't I?)
Does anyone else suspect that maybe our weirdest habits are those we have no idea about?
But anyway:
1. I eat food in such a way that I finish it "evenly." For example, when I am eating a sandwich or a slice of pizza or pie, I pick away at it--crust, center, crust, center--in such a way that I end up with the last two bites being crust and then center. If I am eating a plate of food with three different dishes on it, I try to make sure that my last three bites constitute one of each, with my favorite being the last. When I eat cereal or yogurt with fruit, there has to be exactly enough fruit so that there's one piece per bite. If there isn't, I nibble away at whatever is in excess until everything comes out even.
2. I joggle my knees constantly. The s.o. calls me "Thumper." Fondly, of course.
3. I also constantly tap my teeth together in synch with whatever music is running through my head. It's sort of like my own little piano: Certain teeth correspond to certain notes. Once in a while I get stressed out about it, worrying that I am causing enamel wear, but so far the dentist hasn't called me on it.
4. Every night I fall asleep with one dog at my head (Silver) and one at my feet (Cairo), because the s.o. usually retires later than I do. I tell both of them goodnight repeatedly, trying to make sure I dote on them equally. (For those who are counting and coming up one dog short, Gracie still has to sleep in a kennel because she has a tendency to wander off and get in trouble. But she is snuggled as much as possible before she goes in.)
5. I wear my hair down, always, every day, even if I am doing something athletic, even if it is 105 degrees outside. If my hair is in a ponytail, you can pretty much figure I am washing my face at that moment. I don't know why I'm like this. My ears are kind of big, but not enough to make me neurotic about them. I think it might be because I'm too perfectionist. It's really hard for me to create a ponytail without some hair sticking up weirdly somewhere on top.
I am supposed to nominate others to do this, too, but I'm going to leave it up to you because we are all so busy at this time of year. Take it and run with it!
Does anyone else suspect that maybe our weirdest habits are those we have no idea about?
But anyway:
1. I eat food in such a way that I finish it "evenly." For example, when I am eating a sandwich or a slice of pizza or pie, I pick away at it--crust, center, crust, center--in such a way that I end up with the last two bites being crust and then center. If I am eating a plate of food with three different dishes on it, I try to make sure that my last three bites constitute one of each, with my favorite being the last. When I eat cereal or yogurt with fruit, there has to be exactly enough fruit so that there's one piece per bite. If there isn't, I nibble away at whatever is in excess until everything comes out even.
2. I joggle my knees constantly. The s.o. calls me "Thumper." Fondly, of course.
3. I also constantly tap my teeth together in synch with whatever music is running through my head. It's sort of like my own little piano: Certain teeth correspond to certain notes. Once in a while I get stressed out about it, worrying that I am causing enamel wear, but so far the dentist hasn't called me on it.
4. Every night I fall asleep with one dog at my head (Silver) and one at my feet (Cairo), because the s.o. usually retires later than I do. I tell both of them goodnight repeatedly, trying to make sure I dote on them equally. (For those who are counting and coming up one dog short, Gracie still has to sleep in a kennel because she has a tendency to wander off and get in trouble. But she is snuggled as much as possible before she goes in.)
5. I wear my hair down, always, every day, even if I am doing something athletic, even if it is 105 degrees outside. If my hair is in a ponytail, you can pretty much figure I am washing my face at that moment. I don't know why I'm like this. My ears are kind of big, but not enough to make me neurotic about them. I think it might be because I'm too perfectionist. It's really hard for me to create a ponytail without some hair sticking up weirdly somewhere on top.
I am supposed to nominate others to do this, too, but I'm going to leave it up to you because we are all so busy at this time of year. Take it and run with it!
Monday, December 12, 2005
Two days until the new sofa is delivered
...although happy scenes like this, hideous falling-apart papasan and all, will always be part of our living room experience.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
So what became of those crabapples?
Well, I'll tell you. I got out my half-size pie plate again and made a demi batch of Rosy Crabapple Pie, a recipe adapted from my 1960s Farm Journal Freezing & Canning Cookbook. The recipe had been staring me in the face ever since I found the book. Could there really be another kind of classic fruit pie that I'd never tried?
Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Oddly, it's nothing like apple pie. In fact, it has an almost berryish or plummy flavor, maybe due to some weird synergy with the vanilla (!) in the filling. I guarantee you haven't had anything like it before--unless, of course, you or someone you know owns the same cookbook.
ROSY CRABAPPLE PIE
(makes one 9-inch deep-dish pie)
Pastry for a two-crust pie
6 c. finely chopped red crabapples, peels left on
1 c. sugar
1 Tbs. flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 Tbs. fresh lemon juice
1/4 c. water
Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
Toss crabapples with sugar, flour, and salt. Transfer this mixture to a pastry-lined 9-inch pie plate. Sprinkle with vanilla, lemon juice, and water. Cover with top pastry; flute edges and cut vents.
(At this point I like to brush the top crust with milk and sprinkle it with sugar.)
Bake at 450 degrees F for 10 minutes, then reduce heat to 375 and bake another 40 to 45 minutes, or until golden brown and bubbling.
Oh, yes. Yes, indeed. Oddly, it's nothing like apple pie. In fact, it has an almost berryish or plummy flavor, maybe due to some weird synergy with the vanilla (!) in the filling. I guarantee you haven't had anything like it before--unless, of course, you or someone you know owns the same cookbook.
ROSY CRABAPPLE PIE
(makes one 9-inch deep-dish pie)
Pastry for a two-crust pie
6 c. finely chopped red crabapples, peels left on
1 c. sugar
1 Tbs. flour
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 Tbs. fresh lemon juice
1/4 c. water
Preheat oven to 450 degrees F.
Toss crabapples with sugar, flour, and salt. Transfer this mixture to a pastry-lined 9-inch pie plate. Sprinkle with vanilla, lemon juice, and water. Cover with top pastry; flute edges and cut vents.
(At this point I like to brush the top crust with milk and sprinkle it with sugar.)
Bake at 450 degrees F for 10 minutes, then reduce heat to 375 and bake another 40 to 45 minutes, or until golden brown and bubbling.
Thursday, December 08, 2005
Woo hoo!
We have ordered a sofa! A real, actual new piece of furniture that is not crippling to sit on for long periods of time!
This afternoon we stopped at every store along Athens's "furniture row" and sat on many, many sofas. The one we chose was one of the very few that we liked. It was cushy and perfect for napping or watching TV. It was free of weird doohickeys such as lumpy arms or giant decorative nails or rumpled skirts. I was surprised at how many sofas I found offensive, either because of their stiffness or because of their dowdy appearance.
There was a red sectional I loved too, but it would have taken over our living room completely. The sofa we chose (in mocha, if you care to know) is perfect.
They claim it will be delivered Wednesday. Can't wait!
P.S. We anticipate defying the laws of mathematics because our sofa is already built and sitting in a nearby warehouse.
This afternoon we stopped at every store along Athens's "furniture row" and sat on many, many sofas. The one we chose was one of the very few that we liked. It was cushy and perfect for napping or watching TV. It was free of weird doohickeys such as lumpy arms or giant decorative nails or rumpled skirts. I was surprised at how many sofas I found offensive, either because of their stiffness or because of their dowdy appearance.
There was a red sectional I loved too, but it would have taken over our living room completely. The sofa we chose (in mocha, if you care to know) is perfect.
They claim it will be delivered Wednesday. Can't wait!
P.S. We anticipate defying the laws of mathematics because our sofa is already built and sitting in a nearby warehouse.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
I'm home
And I stopped at the DeKalb Farmer's Market on the way home from the airport!
I had further food adventures after the lobster. My stepdad had shot two pheasants, so I made a pheasant coq au vin (from Hugh F.-W.'s recipe in The River Cottage Year) that turned out really well.
It was great to see everyone, to celebrate Nana's life, and especially to make Christmas cookies with my mom, but I am tired and cold-chapped and glad to be home.
I had further food adventures after the lobster. My stepdad had shot two pheasants, so I made a pheasant coq au vin (from Hugh F.-W.'s recipe in The River Cottage Year) that turned out really well.
It was great to see everyone, to celebrate Nana's life, and especially to make Christmas cookies with my mom, but I am tired and cold-chapped and glad to be home.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Live from LobsterFest!
Yes, I know, I'm visiting Ohio, not Maine. But somebody must have gotten a big air shipment from the coast, because when my stepfather and I met my mother at a local pub last night, the place was crawling with crustaceans. The special menu offerings were practically awash in drawn butter!
This was quite fortuitous for me. As I mentioned once in a comment over at Cookiecrumb's place, I've never tried lobster.* As a kid, I wouldn't touch seafood with a ten-foot pole. And then, just when my tastebuds probably started to mature, I became a vegetarian at 16. Ever since I un-vegged again, I've been meaning to check it out, but lobster isn't the sort of thing you happen upon by chance.
Except that I just did. And I loved it. We split two entrees among the three of us: one plate of Maine lobster tails, and one of South African lobster tails for comparison. The South African ones were sweeter and had more texture, but I think overall I preferred the smaller Maine tails for their richness. Both kinds were more shrimpy than crabby, which surprised me. I was a fan from the first bite (as I knew I would be, because I like almost everything that is generally recognized as a whole, natural food).
The lobster tasted quite fresh and had excellent texture. As I said, they must have gotten them live via air, because there was none of that Red Lobster restaurant fishiness in the air.
I also had an opportunity to try Great Lakes Brewing Company's Christmas Ale, and I loved it, too. I'm not much of a beer drinker, but ever since I lived in St. Paul and developed a taste for Summit Winter Ale, this particular type of seasonal ale has been a favorite of mine. Kudos to Great Lakes for doing an excellent job with theirs.
So far the weather here is just as I remember for this time of year: Grey and chilly. My fingers are a little stiff, but I'm holding steady. Glad to be here nevertheless.
----------
* Mom and John think I may have had some as part of a seafood platter in South Africa a few years ago, but my memory is of bizarrely oversized prawns and other weird and wonderful delicacies. It was all excellent, but I can't recall anything specifically lobsterish. Maybe it was the wine and the time change!
This was quite fortuitous for me. As I mentioned once in a comment over at Cookiecrumb's place, I've never tried lobster.* As a kid, I wouldn't touch seafood with a ten-foot pole. And then, just when my tastebuds probably started to mature, I became a vegetarian at 16. Ever since I un-vegged again, I've been meaning to check it out, but lobster isn't the sort of thing you happen upon by chance.
Except that I just did. And I loved it. We split two entrees among the three of us: one plate of Maine lobster tails, and one of South African lobster tails for comparison. The South African ones were sweeter and had more texture, but I think overall I preferred the smaller Maine tails for their richness. Both kinds were more shrimpy than crabby, which surprised me. I was a fan from the first bite (as I knew I would be, because I like almost everything that is generally recognized as a whole, natural food).
The lobster tasted quite fresh and had excellent texture. As I said, they must have gotten them live via air, because there was none of that Red Lobster restaurant fishiness in the air.
I also had an opportunity to try Great Lakes Brewing Company's Christmas Ale, and I loved it, too. I'm not much of a beer drinker, but ever since I lived in St. Paul and developed a taste for Summit Winter Ale, this particular type of seasonal ale has been a favorite of mine. Kudos to Great Lakes for doing an excellent job with theirs.
So far the weather here is just as I remember for this time of year: Grey and chilly. My fingers are a little stiff, but I'm holding steady. Glad to be here nevertheless.
----------
* Mom and John think I may have had some as part of a seafood platter in South Africa a few years ago, but my memory is of bizarrely oversized prawns and other weird and wonderful delicacies. It was all excellent, but I can't recall anything specifically lobsterish. Maybe it was the wine and the time change!
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