...at least in my limited experience...are an heirloom variety called speckled butter beans, AKA Alabama Christmas limas. Gorgeous beans, spotted like Ponies of the Americas, that live up to their superficial beauty.
I first read about them a long time ago, when I received Deborah Madison's The Vegetarian Table: America as a gift. She included a recipe for them that she'd found in an old community cookbook called Treasured Alabama Recipes. I never thought I'd happen upon these elusive beans in person.
But then recently, at a small Greensboro grocery called Moon's, I spotted them (no pun intended). They were sold under the brand name China Doll, packaged in Mobile.
From the amount of time it has taken me to cook them into submission, I estimate these beans have been sitting on the grocery shelf for quite a while. They were originally intended for last night's dinner. I brought them to a boil in the morning, turned off the heat, soaked them all day, and then cooked them for upwards of two hours. Still hard. So I figured out another side dish for my pork chops and stuck the stubborn limas in the fridge.
In the morning I started cooking them again. Now they are finally ready.
And...oh! Oh, my. Oh, my, my. Simmered with a few aromatics and some butter, salt, and pepper (which I added a day and a half ago, faithful to Madison's suggestions), they have become decadent in their savoriness.
And no, I can't believe I'm using superlatives like these to describe beans. But they are really that special.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Hive mind
I am considering having a party for my local female friends on November 6 or thereabouts. I sent out an e-mail today asking what the girls thought of the date. So far I've received responses from three people who (as far as I know) don't spend a lot of time together. Each one consisted of exactly two words: "I'm down."
Linguistic evolution in action, or what? I mean, I know what "I'm down" means and everything, and I'd probably even say it myself. But it seems like an unusual choice for three people to make without consulting with each other. I guess it's just some kind of meme. Five years ago when I first arrived in Athens, a subset of the townie population was using the word "nair" (or, sometimes, "buh-nair") to mean "that is so lame." It persisted for a while, then faded into relative obscurity.
Whatever. I'm down.
Anyhow, signs bode well for a Girl Fawkes' Day party. It has rained twice today. For all I know, it's still doing it. If we get enough rain to un-parch things a little bit, we'll be able to have a massive bonfire.
By the way, if any of my female readers are feeling the urge to visit Georgia, that might be a good time to do it...
Linguistic evolution in action, or what? I mean, I know what "I'm down" means and everything, and I'd probably even say it myself. But it seems like an unusual choice for three people to make without consulting with each other. I guess it's just some kind of meme. Five years ago when I first arrived in Athens, a subset of the townie population was using the word "nair" (or, sometimes, "buh-nair") to mean "that is so lame." It persisted for a while, then faded into relative obscurity.
Whatever. I'm down.
Anyhow, signs bode well for a Girl Fawkes' Day party. It has rained twice today. For all I know, it's still doing it. If we get enough rain to un-parch things a little bit, we'll be able to have a massive bonfire.
By the way, if any of my female readers are feeling the urge to visit Georgia, that might be a good time to do it...
Monday, October 03, 2005
Machine 1, nature 0
I have returned, and according to the Greensboro Herald-Journal, here is the news:
• The owner of the local sporting goods store has been elected mayor of Union Point. His grandfather, father, and uncle have all also served as mayor of Union Point.
• On November 8, residents of Greensboro will vote on whether to issue mixed-drink licenses for eating establishments. The mayor is quoted as saying, "This is for restaurants, not for honky tonks. You must sell a certain percent of food in your business to be eligible for a license."
I just thought I'd share.
I had a wonderful trip to Tuscaloosa. Not because it was Tuscaloosa (although of course everyone should visit the original Dreamland BBQ, which has much better atmosphere than--and the same mindbendingly good ribs as--the franchises that have spun off from it, and The Waysider, which was apparently where Bear Bryant ate his breakfast every day), but because my wonderful friends were there. And I doubt that I'll go back anytime soon, because these friends are moving to Salt Lake City. They'll be way too far away for my tastes, but then again, SLC is a place that is highly appealing to visit. Maybe the s.o. and I can go sometime during Sundance.
Even though, as I just said, I doubt I'll be visiting that part of Alabama again anytime soon, note to self: I should really remember to check sports schedules before embarking. I spent a lot of the journey sitting in traffic and/or dodging drunken idiots. Also, unrelatedly, I sat in traffic in Birmingham for an hour because of (the traffic reporter on the radio said) "a large piece of steel in the road."
And then, almost home, I went to pass a slow-moving vehicle on I-20 between Covington and Madison, and HOLY SHIT, there was a deer standing right in the middle of the lane. I had nowhere to go because the deer had run in front of the vehicle I was passing, which of course meant that they slammed on their brakes and ended up right beside me. There was no time to think, just WHAM, and then it was over. I was clear-headed enough to notice that somehow I still had both my headlights and the car was running fine, so I continued to the next exit and then stopped at a gas station.
The deer was a small doe and I was doing 70, so no, I'm certain she didn't fare well. I was much luckier, however. My car sustained the least damage I've ever seen a car sustain from hitting a deer. My front driver's-side turn signal was vaporized, and the front corner panel was crumpled in slightly. Also, the force of the impact somehow popped my driver's-side rear-view mirror out of its shell.* But other than that, nothing. It must have been a glancing blow. I say "must have" because all I remember is deer and then no deer. I can kind of remember a sound and a feeling of impact, but that's it.
My first reaction was--and is--to be supremely annoyed. Can I not have JUST ONE car that's really nice? This car is our newest, nicest one (a 1994 Camry, which by our standards is brand new and extremely high-end) and runs like a dream. I got it from my grandparents only a couple of months ago. I don't carry collision insurance on cars, because anything we would own tends to have a resale value of less than a standard insurance deductible. So the best I will be able to do, repair-wise, is to have someone bang the panel more or less back into shape and replace the turn signal light. It will never look the same.
On the other hand, I know in my heart I should feel really, really grateful. Ever since I moved to the country I have been waiting for the moment to come when I hit a deer. There are just too many of them; there's no way it won't happen. But now it has happened, in the place I least expected it (Interstate 20--what in the world?!), and I'm not dead, and there is not a deer embedded in my windshield, and my car is not totaled. It was almost a non-event.**
Of course, it could happen again. I know that. But I do feel as though a little bit of the deer-hitting karma has been defused, at least for now.
----------
* This is slightly tragicomedic from our point of view, because our 1990 Honda Accord is also missing its driver's side rear-view mirror, thanks to some student in Athens who sideswiped it while it was parked outside of our old place. On the bright side, I already know how to drive safely sans that particular mirror.
** From my point of view; obviously not from the deer's.
• The owner of the local sporting goods store has been elected mayor of Union Point. His grandfather, father, and uncle have all also served as mayor of Union Point.
• On November 8, residents of Greensboro will vote on whether to issue mixed-drink licenses for eating establishments. The mayor is quoted as saying, "This is for restaurants, not for honky tonks. You must sell a certain percent of food in your business to be eligible for a license."
I just thought I'd share.
I had a wonderful trip to Tuscaloosa. Not because it was Tuscaloosa (although of course everyone should visit the original Dreamland BBQ, which has much better atmosphere than--and the same mindbendingly good ribs as--the franchises that have spun off from it, and The Waysider, which was apparently where Bear Bryant ate his breakfast every day), but because my wonderful friends were there. And I doubt that I'll go back anytime soon, because these friends are moving to Salt Lake City. They'll be way too far away for my tastes, but then again, SLC is a place that is highly appealing to visit. Maybe the s.o. and I can go sometime during Sundance.
Even though, as I just said, I doubt I'll be visiting that part of Alabama again anytime soon, note to self: I should really remember to check sports schedules before embarking. I spent a lot of the journey sitting in traffic and/or dodging drunken idiots. Also, unrelatedly, I sat in traffic in Birmingham for an hour because of (the traffic reporter on the radio said) "a large piece of steel in the road."
And then, almost home, I went to pass a slow-moving vehicle on I-20 between Covington and Madison, and HOLY SHIT, there was a deer standing right in the middle of the lane. I had nowhere to go because the deer had run in front of the vehicle I was passing, which of course meant that they slammed on their brakes and ended up right beside me. There was no time to think, just WHAM, and then it was over. I was clear-headed enough to notice that somehow I still had both my headlights and the car was running fine, so I continued to the next exit and then stopped at a gas station.
The deer was a small doe and I was doing 70, so no, I'm certain she didn't fare well. I was much luckier, however. My car sustained the least damage I've ever seen a car sustain from hitting a deer. My front driver's-side turn signal was vaporized, and the front corner panel was crumpled in slightly. Also, the force of the impact somehow popped my driver's-side rear-view mirror out of its shell.* But other than that, nothing. It must have been a glancing blow. I say "must have" because all I remember is deer and then no deer. I can kind of remember a sound and a feeling of impact, but that's it.
My first reaction was--and is--to be supremely annoyed. Can I not have JUST ONE car that's really nice? This car is our newest, nicest one (a 1994 Camry, which by our standards is brand new and extremely high-end) and runs like a dream. I got it from my grandparents only a couple of months ago. I don't carry collision insurance on cars, because anything we would own tends to have a resale value of less than a standard insurance deductible. So the best I will be able to do, repair-wise, is to have someone bang the panel more or less back into shape and replace the turn signal light. It will never look the same.
On the other hand, I know in my heart I should feel really, really grateful. Ever since I moved to the country I have been waiting for the moment to come when I hit a deer. There are just too many of them; there's no way it won't happen. But now it has happened, in the place I least expected it (Interstate 20--what in the world?!), and I'm not dead, and there is not a deer embedded in my windshield, and my car is not totaled. It was almost a non-event.**
Of course, it could happen again. I know that. But I do feel as though a little bit of the deer-hitting karma has been defused, at least for now.
----------
* This is slightly tragicomedic from our point of view, because our 1990 Honda Accord is also missing its driver's side rear-view mirror, thanks to some student in Athens who sideswiped it while it was parked outside of our old place. On the bright side, I already know how to drive safely sans that particular mirror.
** From my point of view; obviously not from the deer's.
Friday, September 30, 2005
Back soon
Have a great weekend, everyone...I'm off to visit friends in Tuscaloosa for a couple of days. Use coasters and don't eat anything you can't identify out of the fridge!
Thursday, September 29, 2005
Ever vigilant
Cairo and Silver enjoy the weather in the screened porch.*
----------
* In dog language, this phrase translates to "guard tower." After all, you never know when a marauding crow might come along.
----------
* In dog language, this phrase translates to "guard tower." After all, you never know when a marauding crow might come along.
Tales from a fall garden
Yesterday we made a trip to the fantasyland that is Athens Seed. What a great place. The prices are so reasonable, and they have everything you need, whether you're growing fruit or vegetables or chickens or goats (or aspiring to all four). I swear they had at least 10 varieties of cowpea seeds alone.
Right now my garden is at its all-time best, healthwise. Everything is lush and happy. I won't bore you with a second photo of my mustard greens, but let's just say they've tripled in size and I'm going to have to thin them again. The same is true of the turnips. Hmm...turnip and mustard greens with dinner tonight?
So anyway, I put up these photos because it's a beautiful day here and I wanted to share it.
Right now my garden is at its all-time best, healthwise. Everything is lush and happy. I won't bore you with a second photo of my mustard greens, but let's just say they've tripled in size and I'm going to have to thin them again. The same is true of the turnips. Hmm...turnip and mustard greens with dinner tonight?
So anyway, I put up these photos because it's a beautiful day here and I wanted to share it.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
An atypical morning
The first unusual thing about this morning was the way I woke up: at 7 am, to the sound of dripping water. I smiled in my groggy state. The unexpected rain that had delayed last night's Atlanta Braves game had visited our parched little corner of the world. Excellent.
It wasn't much--between 1/4 and 1/2 inch, I think. But at least it was something.
The second unusual thing was that the dogs didn't get their usual kibble for breakfast. We had run out. So I doled out portions of last night's mashed rutabagas into three dog bowls, and then I set out to make them some pancakes. Our dogs almost never get people food (other than the dregs of yogurt containers and the occasional pistachio), but for some reason it gave me great pleasure to cook for a four- (or in one case, three-) legged audience this morning.
Funnily enough, in my attempt to make more-than-usually-nutritious pancakes for the canines, I ended up creating pancakes that I found more-than-usually-tasty. They are fluffy and cakey and don't taste "health-foody" at all--just, y'know, good. I had mine with a light drizzle of a local product called "Biscuit Lasses," which is an extremely tasty mix of dark corn syrup and molasses. The dogs had theirs plain and didn't complain a bit, although if I had really been trying to spoil them I suppose bacon crumbles would have been in order.
And so I present to you:
DOG PANCAKES
1/2 c. soft all-purpose flour
1/2 c. whole wheat flour
1/2 c. cornmeal
1 Tbs. sugar
pinch of salt
1 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. baking powder
2 eggs
3 Tbs. vegetable oil
1 1/2 c. buttermilk
1/2 tsp. vanilla
Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl, then add the wet ingredients and whisk until just combined. For each pancake, drop 1/4 c. batter on a hot buttered or oiled cast-iron skillet. Cook until bubbles appear all over the top, then flip and cook one more minute.
It wasn't much--between 1/4 and 1/2 inch, I think. But at least it was something.
The second unusual thing was that the dogs didn't get their usual kibble for breakfast. We had run out. So I doled out portions of last night's mashed rutabagas into three dog bowls, and then I set out to make them some pancakes. Our dogs almost never get people food (other than the dregs of yogurt containers and the occasional pistachio), but for some reason it gave me great pleasure to cook for a four- (or in one case, three-) legged audience this morning.
Funnily enough, in my attempt to make more-than-usually-nutritious pancakes for the canines, I ended up creating pancakes that I found more-than-usually-tasty. They are fluffy and cakey and don't taste "health-foody" at all--just, y'know, good. I had mine with a light drizzle of a local product called "Biscuit Lasses," which is an extremely tasty mix of dark corn syrup and molasses. The dogs had theirs plain and didn't complain a bit, although if I had really been trying to spoil them I suppose bacon crumbles would have been in order.
And so I present to you:
DOG PANCAKES
1/2 c. soft all-purpose flour
1/2 c. whole wheat flour
1/2 c. cornmeal
1 Tbs. sugar
pinch of salt
1 tsp. baking soda
2 tsp. baking powder
2 eggs
3 Tbs. vegetable oil
1 1/2 c. buttermilk
1/2 tsp. vanilla
Combine the dry ingredients in a bowl, then add the wet ingredients and whisk until just combined. For each pancake, drop 1/4 c. batter on a hot buttered or oiled cast-iron skillet. Cook until bubbles appear all over the top, then flip and cook one more minute.
Monday, September 26, 2005
I found it
That orange spaghetti squash I ate in Ohio is apparently called Hasta La Pasta (scroll down). The description is correct when it says it is a "major improvement" on the old yellow spaghetti squash.
Now I can sleep at night. Ahhhh.
Now I can sleep at night. Ahhhh.
Sunday, September 25, 2005
Bueller? Bueller?
I have two freshly dug peony roots up for grabs. They're three years old, but you'd never know it. They're not thriving here. In fact, they're barely hanging on. They are the result of my early attempts to grow something in Georgia that really doesn't want to grow here.
I figure they can't do any worse in the mail than they've been doing in the parched ground. I will send them--no guarantees of health, you understand, but at least they're worth a try--to the first northerner who claims them.
I figure they can't do any worse in the mail than they've been doing in the parched ground. I will send them--no guarantees of health, you understand, but at least they're worth a try--to the first northerner who claims them.
Opportunity knocks, and I answer
Sometimes it truly amazes me, how what you see is determined by what you're looking for. When the s.o. brought home the Greensboro paper this week, there were two--two!--horticultural seminars advertised in it. Have they always been there, and we just haven't noticed?
One of them is on landscape design basics. It's at UGA, costs $20, and is in mid-October. I am seriously considering it. But the free seminar on deer-resistant plants that was this Saturday...well, that was a no-brainer.
The seminar was given by (and located at) Piccadilly Farm, a nursery that specializes in shade plants, hellebores, and conifers. Normally it would be a little bit out of my way. Picture it like this: If Athens is the center of the clock face, we live at the number 5 and the seminar was at the number 8. But it just so happened that my friend Julie (often seen commenting around these parts) was having a party Friday night. Julie lives between 8 and 9. Also, a friend in Athens was having a housewarming party Saturday afternoon, a few hours after the seminar. Obviously the smart thing to do was to stay overnight and make a weekend of it.
So that's what I did. And miraculously, with the aid of some excellent coffee, I managed to get out of bed early enough on Saturday to hit two yard sales on the way to Piccadilly Farm. At the first one I found a fishing net for the s.o. At the second, I bought two bags of okra, grown right there and picked Saturday morning. I think I might pickle it.
The seminar was a revelation. Any idiot can look up deer-resistant plants on the internet and get a bunch of genus and species names. But we got to see them and touch them and smell them. The proprietor of the farm told us about their growth habits and what kind of environment they preferred. I scribbled annotations on my handout as he talked.
But the most useful piece of information was this: The Georgia DNR buys truckloads and truckloads of a particular organic fertilizer called Milorganite Greens Grade (6-2-0 plus 4% iron), not because it's a great non-burning fertilizer (which it is), but because it drives deer away, apparently with fairly good reliability. The fertilizer is made from composted sludge from the Milwaukee, Wis., sewer system. The deer hate the smell, but humans don't notice it after the initial application. It should be applied as a top dressing, just a handful scattered here and there, every two or three weeks. It costs $9.50 per 50-lb. bag.
Wow, huh? I mean, I don't know how things are where you live, but this is potentially very big information for us. It's one more weapon (besides the fences we're planning and the little bars of deodorant soap hanging everywhere) in our deer-repelling arsenal. It could even mean that the s.o.'s dream of growing hostas in the front shade bed may live once more. It could mean life itself for my fruit trees and grapes, which will nevertheless spend their young years in big wire-fence cylinders.
Oh, and get this: At the end of the FREE seminar, they gave us FREE deer-resistant plants. How cool is that? I gave my flowering quince--not the fruiting kind, but the decorative kind--as a housewarming gift later that afternoon (I was kind of stressing out about where to put it, since I'm going to be planting so many fruit trees on our property). But the other, a smallish cylindrical cypress, has already found a home in the front yard. We'd been thinking about buying a conifer for that spot anyway.
Sometimes it really is true that the most important thing in life is showing up.
Between the seminar and the party, I went back to Julie's. We drank coffee on the deck and fed the turtles that live in the pond, and I almost teared up because they were so beautiful and funny and prehistoric-looking. There must have been at least eight or 10 of them clamoring for our stale pita bread and overripe banana. I am jealous that Julie and her fiancé get to start their day that way every day.
Then went junking before the afternoon party. Julie acquainted me with a small, out-of-the-way store I hadn't known existed. It's run by a few really friendly, smart, funny ladies who have an eye for cool old stuff. I came away with an antique potato ricer (fully as nice as Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's Victorian one), an old aluminum grease jar with a filter, and a Mason-jar chicken waterer (for the same price as the chicken catalog charges for it, sans shipping). The store is having a community yard sale on the third weekend in October, and I'm thinking maybe I should participate.
After the housewarming party (which was a blast) I stopped in at Café Cuba, my new favorite hangout in Athens. They have a super-authentic chef who cooks brilliant Cuban, Columbian, and Peruvian food. On weekends they have a special expanded menu that includes some of the more obscure and tripey dishes. I ordered a Peruvian dish called (I think--please correct me if you know better) Seco de Cabrito. It was an herby stew of fatty lamb breast, yuca, and brown beans, served with white rice and pickled red onions. It was stunning. The s.o. felt the same way about the leftovers when I brought them home.
Is it any wonder I'm so tired today? But what a fantastic weekend it has been already.
One of them is on landscape design basics. It's at UGA, costs $20, and is in mid-October. I am seriously considering it. But the free seminar on deer-resistant plants that was this Saturday...well, that was a no-brainer.
The seminar was given by (and located at) Piccadilly Farm, a nursery that specializes in shade plants, hellebores, and conifers. Normally it would be a little bit out of my way. Picture it like this: If Athens is the center of the clock face, we live at the number 5 and the seminar was at the number 8. But it just so happened that my friend Julie (often seen commenting around these parts) was having a party Friday night. Julie lives between 8 and 9. Also, a friend in Athens was having a housewarming party Saturday afternoon, a few hours after the seminar. Obviously the smart thing to do was to stay overnight and make a weekend of it.
So that's what I did. And miraculously, with the aid of some excellent coffee, I managed to get out of bed early enough on Saturday to hit two yard sales on the way to Piccadilly Farm. At the first one I found a fishing net for the s.o. At the second, I bought two bags of okra, grown right there and picked Saturday morning. I think I might pickle it.
The seminar was a revelation. Any idiot can look up deer-resistant plants on the internet and get a bunch of genus and species names. But we got to see them and touch them and smell them. The proprietor of the farm told us about their growth habits and what kind of environment they preferred. I scribbled annotations on my handout as he talked.
But the most useful piece of information was this: The Georgia DNR buys truckloads and truckloads of a particular organic fertilizer called Milorganite Greens Grade (6-2-0 plus 4% iron), not because it's a great non-burning fertilizer (which it is), but because it drives deer away, apparently with fairly good reliability. The fertilizer is made from composted sludge from the Milwaukee, Wis., sewer system. The deer hate the smell, but humans don't notice it after the initial application. It should be applied as a top dressing, just a handful scattered here and there, every two or three weeks. It costs $9.50 per 50-lb. bag.
Wow, huh? I mean, I don't know how things are where you live, but this is potentially very big information for us. It's one more weapon (besides the fences we're planning and the little bars of deodorant soap hanging everywhere) in our deer-repelling arsenal. It could even mean that the s.o.'s dream of growing hostas in the front shade bed may live once more. It could mean life itself for my fruit trees and grapes, which will nevertheless spend their young years in big wire-fence cylinders.
Oh, and get this: At the end of the FREE seminar, they gave us FREE deer-resistant plants. How cool is that? I gave my flowering quince--not the fruiting kind, but the decorative kind--as a housewarming gift later that afternoon (I was kind of stressing out about where to put it, since I'm going to be planting so many fruit trees on our property). But the other, a smallish cylindrical cypress, has already found a home in the front yard. We'd been thinking about buying a conifer for that spot anyway.
Sometimes it really is true that the most important thing in life is showing up.
Between the seminar and the party, I went back to Julie's. We drank coffee on the deck and fed the turtles that live in the pond, and I almost teared up because they were so beautiful and funny and prehistoric-looking. There must have been at least eight or 10 of them clamoring for our stale pita bread and overripe banana. I am jealous that Julie and her fiancé get to start their day that way every day.
Then went junking before the afternoon party. Julie acquainted me with a small, out-of-the-way store I hadn't known existed. It's run by a few really friendly, smart, funny ladies who have an eye for cool old stuff. I came away with an antique potato ricer (fully as nice as Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's Victorian one), an old aluminum grease jar with a filter, and a Mason-jar chicken waterer (for the same price as the chicken catalog charges for it, sans shipping). The store is having a community yard sale on the third weekend in October, and I'm thinking maybe I should participate.
After the housewarming party (which was a blast) I stopped in at Café Cuba, my new favorite hangout in Athens. They have a super-authentic chef who cooks brilliant Cuban, Columbian, and Peruvian food. On weekends they have a special expanded menu that includes some of the more obscure and tripey dishes. I ordered a Peruvian dish called (I think--please correct me if you know better) Seco de Cabrito. It was an herby stew of fatty lamb breast, yuca, and brown beans, served with white rice and pickled red onions. It was stunning. The s.o. felt the same way about the leftovers when I brought them home.
Is it any wonder I'm so tired today? But what a fantastic weekend it has been already.
Friday, September 23, 2005
Garden notes
It's Fertilization Friday in the garden, which means it's the day that, instead of watering via hose sprayer, I make a series of five-gallon bucketfuls of murky kelp soup (see item H312 here) and pour them slowly over my growing vegetables. This, in addition to the composted manure I've been working in wherever new seeds are planted, seems to be helping the plants along quite nicely.
On days like today, I also take the time to look more closely at the plants--noticing, for example, if weird beetle larvae can be found snacking on my waning eggplants. And yes, it turns out they can. Die, foul vermin, die!
The front flowerbed where I've planted my red cabbage seedlings is much more organic-y and leaf-strewn than the main vegetable garden area, so it is rife with slugs. Our slugs here are small (aside from very occasional imported giant banana slugs), but they can still make pretty large holes when they're hungry. In fact, the littlest cabbage was cut down altogether two days ago. So last night, before retiring, I took two teeny Asian condiment bowls and filled them with beer, then embedded them in the leaf mold outside. This morning I was gratified to find that five slugs and one beetle had died drunken deaths. Excellent--I need to remember to do that every night.
Most exciting discovery du jour: My purple sprouting broccoli has germinated!
Additional non-garden-related information: Nutella is really good on dense, custardy cornbread. I'm sure it's good on dry-ish fluffy cornbread, too, but there's something about the moist, almost polenta-like texture that is particularly dreamy. Craig Claiborne has a recipe for this kind of cornbread, if you happen to have his southern cookbook. But I like this recipe (which I've adapted from Sheila Ferguson's Soul Food: Classic Cuisine from the Deep South) much better:
CUSTARDY CORNBREAD
2 Tbs. butter
1 1/2 c. cornmeal
1/3 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
2 Tbs. sugar
2 c. buttermilk
1/4 c. skim milk
2 large eggs, beaten
1 1/2 Tbs. melted butter
Place a 10-inch cast iron skillet with 2 Tbs. butter in it in the oven while it preheats to 400 degrees F.
Meanwhile, whisk together cornmeal, flour, salt, baking soda, and sugar.
Add buttermilk, milk, eggs, and melted butter and blend together until smooth. Pour into warmed, buttery skillet. Bake 30 to 40 minutes, until golden brown.
On days like today, I also take the time to look more closely at the plants--noticing, for example, if weird beetle larvae can be found snacking on my waning eggplants. And yes, it turns out they can. Die, foul vermin, die!
The front flowerbed where I've planted my red cabbage seedlings is much more organic-y and leaf-strewn than the main vegetable garden area, so it is rife with slugs. Our slugs here are small (aside from very occasional imported giant banana slugs), but they can still make pretty large holes when they're hungry. In fact, the littlest cabbage was cut down altogether two days ago. So last night, before retiring, I took two teeny Asian condiment bowls and filled them with beer, then embedded them in the leaf mold outside. This morning I was gratified to find that five slugs and one beetle had died drunken deaths. Excellent--I need to remember to do that every night.
Most exciting discovery du jour: My purple sprouting broccoli has germinated!
Additional non-garden-related information: Nutella is really good on dense, custardy cornbread. I'm sure it's good on dry-ish fluffy cornbread, too, but there's something about the moist, almost polenta-like texture that is particularly dreamy. Craig Claiborne has a recipe for this kind of cornbread, if you happen to have his southern cookbook. But I like this recipe (which I've adapted from Sheila Ferguson's Soul Food: Classic Cuisine from the Deep South) much better:
CUSTARDY CORNBREAD
2 Tbs. butter
1 1/2 c. cornmeal
1/3 c. all-purpose flour
1 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
2 Tbs. sugar
2 c. buttermilk
1/4 c. skim milk
2 large eggs, beaten
1 1/2 Tbs. melted butter
Place a 10-inch cast iron skillet with 2 Tbs. butter in it in the oven while it preheats to 400 degrees F.
Meanwhile, whisk together cornmeal, flour, salt, baking soda, and sugar.
Add buttermilk, milk, eggs, and melted butter and blend together until smooth. Pour into warmed, buttery skillet. Bake 30 to 40 minutes, until golden brown.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
The opposite of Texas
Having survived three weeks without rain, I just looked at our 10-day forecast and was appalled to see that it's more of the same: 90 degrees and no rain.
For at least 10 more days. Okay, the temperature does start to taper off a little after a week. But no rain.
Something is definitely screwed up.
For at least 10 more days. Okay, the temperature does start to taper off a little after a week. But no rain.
Something is definitely screwed up.
Wednesday, September 21, 2005
I can't stop taking pictures of radishes
Note to self: French breakfast radishes are the prettiest thing I've ever grown--even more gorgeous and Easter-egg-like than cherry belle radishes (a couple of which you can see tucked underneath their showier brethren).
They are spicy, though! Hot weather'll do that.
They are spicy, though! Hot weather'll do that.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Uncharacteristic levels of community involvement
I voted this morning at 8:15 AM. I was still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and my jeans were still damp from the knees down because I'm not very good at watering the garden when I'm semi-comatose. But there were a couple of tax and bond issues up that I was quite interested in.
"That was quick," said one of the voting officers when I gave my key card back to them. Which begs the question of how long it takes most people to answer three questions on a touch-screen computer voting machine.
I was up early because I had registered for an all-day tree pruning workshop offered by the Greensboro Better Hometown program. Apparently the city councilpeople have figured out that their tree husbandry has historically been a little shoddy--okay, really shockingly bad--and that they ought to do something about it instead of continuing to flush the tree budget down the drain. As far as I could tell, the workshop was organized primarily for the benefit of the three city employees to whom the bulk of the tree care duties falls. I'm guessing the general public was invited in order to help pay the ag extension arborist's speaking fee.
I have a geeky love of science seminars, plus I just bought a bunch of seedlings that will arrive in January and demand care that I don't know how to give, so I gladly shelled out 20 bucks to attend. It was well worth it. The arborist taught us how to shape trees when they're young so that they grow up to be healthy and less likely to rot or split. He taught how and where to cut so infection won't enter. He gave us hints on how to deal with mature trees that are already too large and screwed up to fully remediate. And finally, he took us on a walking tour of downtown, where we looked upon the city's trees with new eyes. The trees were a mess, I must say. We could only find one--a smallish willow oak--that we thought was acceptable. The rest all had "issues." Most had codominant stems (a weak structure that's basically a lawsuit waiting to happen--think large falling branch meets Mercedes-Benz). Several had been gouged by chainsaws and were probably rotting from the inside out. In many cases, otherwise acceptable young red maples had been planted near power lines. Their future was bleak: Before they could even begin to approach their full height of 90 feet, they'd be summarily topped by the power company. After a few examples of this, I could see despair in the eyes of the lady from the Better Hometown committee.
But on the bright side, I think the knowledge I gained will help us avoid comical and/or expensive and/or tragic mistakes on our own property. And the city should do better in the future, too.
Lest anyone think that $20 buys nothing more than a stack of PowerPoint photocopies and a slight sunburn, I should add that lunch was catered by a downtown meat-and-three. It was fried chicken, green beans, macaroni and cheese, and banana pudding. It's not my favorite local restaurant, but any soul food beats the heck out of a sack lunch (or the usual Rubber Conference Chicken).
The Better Hometown lady says there might be more of these seminars, depending on demand. I suggested that a tree planting workshop might be in order...sometime before mid-January!
"That was quick," said one of the voting officers when I gave my key card back to them. Which begs the question of how long it takes most people to answer three questions on a touch-screen computer voting machine.
I was up early because I had registered for an all-day tree pruning workshop offered by the Greensboro Better Hometown program. Apparently the city councilpeople have figured out that their tree husbandry has historically been a little shoddy--okay, really shockingly bad--and that they ought to do something about it instead of continuing to flush the tree budget down the drain. As far as I could tell, the workshop was organized primarily for the benefit of the three city employees to whom the bulk of the tree care duties falls. I'm guessing the general public was invited in order to help pay the ag extension arborist's speaking fee.
I have a geeky love of science seminars, plus I just bought a bunch of seedlings that will arrive in January and demand care that I don't know how to give, so I gladly shelled out 20 bucks to attend. It was well worth it. The arborist taught us how to shape trees when they're young so that they grow up to be healthy and less likely to rot or split. He taught how and where to cut so infection won't enter. He gave us hints on how to deal with mature trees that are already too large and screwed up to fully remediate. And finally, he took us on a walking tour of downtown, where we looked upon the city's trees with new eyes. The trees were a mess, I must say. We could only find one--a smallish willow oak--that we thought was acceptable. The rest all had "issues." Most had codominant stems (a weak structure that's basically a lawsuit waiting to happen--think large falling branch meets Mercedes-Benz). Several had been gouged by chainsaws and were probably rotting from the inside out. In many cases, otherwise acceptable young red maples had been planted near power lines. Their future was bleak: Before they could even begin to approach their full height of 90 feet, they'd be summarily topped by the power company. After a few examples of this, I could see despair in the eyes of the lady from the Better Hometown committee.
But on the bright side, I think the knowledge I gained will help us avoid comical and/or expensive and/or tragic mistakes on our own property. And the city should do better in the future, too.
Lest anyone think that $20 buys nothing more than a stack of PowerPoint photocopies and a slight sunburn, I should add that lunch was catered by a downtown meat-and-three. It was fried chicken, green beans, macaroni and cheese, and banana pudding. It's not my favorite local restaurant, but any soul food beats the heck out of a sack lunch (or the usual Rubber Conference Chicken).
The Better Hometown lady says there might be more of these seminars, depending on demand. I suggested that a tree planting workshop might be in order...sometime before mid-January!
Monday, September 19, 2005
Putting down roots
This is a pretty big announcement, or at least it feels that way to us: We have taken our house off the market. We are not selling our 12-acres-with-farmhouse, and we are not moving to Oregon. The reasons are many and complex, but basically they boil down to this: We couldn't sell our place here for nearly as much money as we'd need to set ourselves up out west. We would have taken a massive quality-of-life hit.
The other thing that happened is this: When we first put our house up for sale last November, we were malcontent here. Maybe it was the election; we felt surrounded by unlike minds and isolated from culture. But during the intervening time, we started to love this place all over again.
Was it Mary Engelbreit who first said "Bloom where you're planted," or was she quoting someone more authoritative? I hope it's the latter. Because 13 years ago, after I made an agonizing decision about where to go to grad school (possibly by flipping a coin--I can't remember now), my stepmother sent me this print, which actually went a long way toward putting my mind at ease. I'd hate to think that all my issues can be addressed by folksy platitudinous illustrations. And I don't want to know what sort of decision I might make that could be summed up with "Life is just a chair of bowlies."
Anyhow, having made the decision, we feel...I don't know, free. We've been living in limbo for a year now, waiting for something to happen and unwilling (for obvious reasons) to invest too much in our lives here. Now we are building shelving units, ordering fruit trees, planning for chickens and goats*. I am a little sad that we won't get to realize all our grand plans in the Pacific Northwest. But I am a lot happy that we have such a great place in rural Georgia.
----------
* The s.o. has just about had it with mowing all our open acreage. So we're recruiting some help!
The other thing that happened is this: When we first put our house up for sale last November, we were malcontent here. Maybe it was the election; we felt surrounded by unlike minds and isolated from culture. But during the intervening time, we started to love this place all over again.
Was it Mary Engelbreit who first said "Bloom where you're planted," or was she quoting someone more authoritative? I hope it's the latter. Because 13 years ago, after I made an agonizing decision about where to go to grad school (possibly by flipping a coin--I can't remember now), my stepmother sent me this print, which actually went a long way toward putting my mind at ease. I'd hate to think that all my issues can be addressed by folksy platitudinous illustrations. And I don't want to know what sort of decision I might make that could be summed up with "Life is just a chair of bowlies."
Anyhow, having made the decision, we feel...I don't know, free. We've been living in limbo for a year now, waiting for something to happen and unwilling (for obvious reasons) to invest too much in our lives here. Now we are building shelving units, ordering fruit trees, planning for chickens and goats*. I am a little sad that we won't get to realize all our grand plans in the Pacific Northwest. But I am a lot happy that we have such a great place in rural Georgia.
----------
* The s.o. has just about had it with mowing all our open acreage. So we're recruiting some help!
Irresistible food porn claims another victim
Just made a batch of these, and I definitely give them the thumbs-up. They taste like cakey sugar cookies, only with Nutella.
By the way, I followed Nic's advice and reduced the amount of butter in the recipe. Since there are eight tablespoons in a stick of butter, I just threw in a stick and called it good. No need for more, I think.
By the way, I followed Nic's advice and reduced the amount of butter in the recipe. Since there are eight tablespoons in a stick of butter, I just threw in a stick and called it good. No need for more, I think.
I dig my garden
Well, the s.o. talked me into it. I wasn't going to buy any seedlings this fall; I was going to rely on plants started from seed. After all, I'm already starting to harvest mature radishes. And the mustard greens are huge, with the turnips coming up fast in their wake.
I have received one order apiece from Pinetree Garden Seeds and Victory Seed Co. this fall (see sidebar for links). I haven't put in my garlic and walking onions yet, but I have planted the purple sprouting broccoli seeds I got. And I have soaked my baby plants with a red-brown murky broth of kelp powder. They look happy. So I thought I was done, more or less.
But that was before the s.o. and I stopped in at Lowe's yesterday--he to buy the last two 99-cent azaleas, and me to purchase a couple sacks of composted manure. He spotted the vegetable seedlings and encouraged me to buy them. I hemmed and hawed because I didn't need them, but in the end I walked away with a 9-pack of brussels sprouts and a 9-pack of red cabbage. (Note to non-Southerners: Most brassicas, aside from collards, are primarily fall crops here. They can't stand our summer, but they like our winter just fine.)
Because I know they'll be gorgeous as well as useful, I planted the red cabbage seedlings along the edge of the gravel walk that leads to our front door. They're replacing some pinks and pansies that have slowly given out over the course of the last year. Then I planted the brussels sprouts in the garden proper, in the place where the okra plants used to be before the deer pruned them into short little non-flowering shrubs that I eventually dug up and composted. I did the math: This should mean brussels sprouts by Christmas, which is perfect timing.
Isn't it weird to be thinking of Christmas when it's (suddenly, again) 90 degrees out? But there is an unmistakable coolness to the early-morning air. I know fall is under there somewhere.
I have received one order apiece from Pinetree Garden Seeds and Victory Seed Co. this fall (see sidebar for links). I haven't put in my garlic and walking onions yet, but I have planted the purple sprouting broccoli seeds I got. And I have soaked my baby plants with a red-brown murky broth of kelp powder. They look happy. So I thought I was done, more or less.
But that was before the s.o. and I stopped in at Lowe's yesterday--he to buy the last two 99-cent azaleas, and me to purchase a couple sacks of composted manure. He spotted the vegetable seedlings and encouraged me to buy them. I hemmed and hawed because I didn't need them, but in the end I walked away with a 9-pack of brussels sprouts and a 9-pack of red cabbage. (Note to non-Southerners: Most brassicas, aside from collards, are primarily fall crops here. They can't stand our summer, but they like our winter just fine.)
Because I know they'll be gorgeous as well as useful, I planted the red cabbage seedlings along the edge of the gravel walk that leads to our front door. They're replacing some pinks and pansies that have slowly given out over the course of the last year. Then I planted the brussels sprouts in the garden proper, in the place where the okra plants used to be before the deer pruned them into short little non-flowering shrubs that I eventually dug up and composted. I did the math: This should mean brussels sprouts by Christmas, which is perfect timing.
Isn't it weird to be thinking of Christmas when it's (suddenly, again) 90 degrees out? But there is an unmistakable coolness to the early-morning air. I know fall is under there somewhere.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
The yogurt wars: Vol. 1
This post is the first in an irregularly occurring series in which I compare yogurt brands and flavors I've never tried before. The goal is to find out if there's any yogurt within my reach that can compare with my Holy of Holies: the Publix lowfat fruit-on-the-bottom yogurt with tart cherries--which, in itself, is not perfect, being slightly soupier than a 2% yogurt has any right to be. But still, I love it best.
I was raised on a Dannon a day, and I've been to Greece and sampled their incredible whole-milk yogurt with a drizzle of honey. I make yogurt curries and I make yogurt slaws. So I figure I'm as good a reviewer as anyone...
Brown Cow Cream Top
maple flavor
First let me say this is a delicious yogurt with a strong dark maple syrup flavor. It’s not overly sweet, which I appreciate; it has a lovely tart yogurty tang.
But there are textural problems. I was expecting smooth unctuousness from this, since it’s a whole milk yogurt. But the main body of the yogurt has a slightly granular texture. And the much-touted “cream top” has a mouthfeel more reminiscent of cold chicken fat than of cream. It leaves an unpleasant greasy residue on my lips and on the spoon.
Cairo the three-legged dog, who always cleans out my yogurt containers for me when I’m done eating, liked this especially well--but then again, he’s also very fond of chicken fat.
Redwood Hill Farm Goat Milk Yogurt
blueberry flavor
I wasn’t sure what to expect from this. I love goat cheese, but I have a lingering mistrust of goat milk in sweet foods because my dad kept dairy goats for a while when I was young and I am still getting over the trauma of having goat milk on my Life cereal.
But holy cow! I mean, holy goat! This is great yogurt. Like Brown Cow, it purports to have a cream layer. However, in this case I didn’t even notice it. It is creamy throughout, with a delicate goat-cheese undertone, and the fruit is sweetened with honey so it’s not cloying.
I wouldn’t want to switch altogether to goat’s-milk yogurt; I’m too attached to the taste of the cow’s-milk variety. But this is really divine stuff, and it makes for a refreshing change from the everyday.
Cairo dutifully licked out the container, but he didn’t go crazy for it.
Nancy’s Nonfat Yogurt
raspberry flavor
Let’s deal with the 1000-pound gorilla in the room first: the packaging. On one hand, I like being able to dole out the fruit bit by bit. On the other hand, all that extra plastic strikes me as a wildly irresponsible use of resources.
The yogurt itself is damned near perfect (at least for a fat-free variety, which I have no problem with in general, despite the existence of some truly spectacular whole-milk yogurts in the world). Excellent texture and tartness. I would have loved it plain! But the raspberries have some “off” flavors that I can’t put my finger on--like maybe the berries weren’t the freshest, or maybe the honey they used to sweeten them wasn’t particularly nice. I expect better from a product that comes from Oregon, the berry capital of the universe.
Cairo liked the fact that he could get his tongue into the bottom of the shallow cup.
I was raised on a Dannon a day, and I've been to Greece and sampled their incredible whole-milk yogurt with a drizzle of honey. I make yogurt curries and I make yogurt slaws. So I figure I'm as good a reviewer as anyone...
Brown Cow Cream Top
maple flavor
First let me say this is a delicious yogurt with a strong dark maple syrup flavor. It’s not overly sweet, which I appreciate; it has a lovely tart yogurty tang.
But there are textural problems. I was expecting smooth unctuousness from this, since it’s a whole milk yogurt. But the main body of the yogurt has a slightly granular texture. And the much-touted “cream top” has a mouthfeel more reminiscent of cold chicken fat than of cream. It leaves an unpleasant greasy residue on my lips and on the spoon.
Cairo the three-legged dog, who always cleans out my yogurt containers for me when I’m done eating, liked this especially well--but then again, he’s also very fond of chicken fat.
Redwood Hill Farm Goat Milk Yogurt
blueberry flavor
I wasn’t sure what to expect from this. I love goat cheese, but I have a lingering mistrust of goat milk in sweet foods because my dad kept dairy goats for a while when I was young and I am still getting over the trauma of having goat milk on my Life cereal.
But holy cow! I mean, holy goat! This is great yogurt. Like Brown Cow, it purports to have a cream layer. However, in this case I didn’t even notice it. It is creamy throughout, with a delicate goat-cheese undertone, and the fruit is sweetened with honey so it’s not cloying.
I wouldn’t want to switch altogether to goat’s-milk yogurt; I’m too attached to the taste of the cow’s-milk variety. But this is really divine stuff, and it makes for a refreshing change from the everyday.
Cairo dutifully licked out the container, but he didn’t go crazy for it.
Nancy’s Nonfat Yogurt
raspberry flavor
Let’s deal with the 1000-pound gorilla in the room first: the packaging. On one hand, I like being able to dole out the fruit bit by bit. On the other hand, all that extra plastic strikes me as a wildly irresponsible use of resources.
The yogurt itself is damned near perfect (at least for a fat-free variety, which I have no problem with in general, despite the existence of some truly spectacular whole-milk yogurts in the world). Excellent texture and tartness. I would have loved it plain! But the raspberries have some “off” flavors that I can’t put my finger on--like maybe the berries weren’t the freshest, or maybe the honey they used to sweeten them wasn’t particularly nice. I expect better from a product that comes from Oregon, the berry capital of the universe.
Cairo liked the fact that he could get his tongue into the bottom of the shallow cup.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
And now for something completely different
I'm reading the fashion supplement that came with the new Vanity Fair. Can I just say that if I were one of the people Gwen Stefani named as a style mentor, I'd sue for defamation?
On the other hand, some people have always gotten it. Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran looks sharper and more handsome than he did 20 years ago--and people who know how much of a fan I was back then will understand that that's a very high compliment. And his bandmate Andy Taylor looks really put-together despite his mullet hairstyle. He says he's taken to wearing suits every day as a tribute to a friend:
I knew Robert [Palmer] for 20 years before he died, and I never saw him go a day without a suit.
For some reason, I thought that was a really lovely sentiment. It choked me up.
On the other hand, some people have always gotten it. Simon Le Bon of Duran Duran looks sharper and more handsome than he did 20 years ago--and people who know how much of a fan I was back then will understand that that's a very high compliment. And his bandmate Andy Taylor looks really put-together despite his mullet hairstyle. He says he's taken to wearing suits every day as a tribute to a friend:
I knew Robert [Palmer] for 20 years before he died, and I never saw him go a day without a suit.
For some reason, I thought that was a really lovely sentiment. It choked me up.
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