Now, here we are, house pristine (well, mostly) and facing the worse real estate market in decades. Ah well. If nothing else, trying to sell this place lit a fire under our lazy winter bums and made us do all the projects we’ve been talking about for years. But cross your fingers for us. More acreage will mean more gardening (Blueberry bushes! Apple trees!), a steer and a hog in the barn (I’m still trying to convince Dave about this one … he wants a fish pond), and countless misadventures as we bungle our way toward self-sufficiency.

One of our newest additions, Holly the Belgian pheasant

Typing today feels like slogging through a pool while wearing layers of winter coats and a pair of steel-toed boots. I suppose that’s what I get for abandoning the blog for over two months. What should I tell you about – how we lost two of our white chickens to egg bind; how we’ve gained four new chickens but keep them separate from the old girls because chickens are perhaps the worst bullies on the planet; how one of the new chickens is really a Belgian pheasant and lays green eggs; how nearly all of the chickens are molting and look as if they were in an eighties metal band; how Dave brought home two pounds of beets and two pounds of turnips, and we ate every single one even though I can’t get over my hatred of both; how Red Haven Farm, the place where we’ve bought all of our meat for the last year, is no longer – the land is for sale, the owners moving on to other things; how for Christmas everyone bought me cookbooks; how Q turns 6 this week and I want to stop her and E from getting any older (all I can see are drivers’ licenses and prom dresses); how next week I turn 34; how my mom got me the world’s most amazing food processor; how right now all I want to do is eat the leftover icing from Quinn’s cake that’s singing its siren song from the fridge; how I’ve chosen the gym over this blog since the beginning of December and am so much happier for being strong and fit again; how there’s been so little snow this winter, and today my daffodils are poking up through the soil. How the house is silent and all mine for a few hours and I rejoice, rejoice, rejoice.

Pearl, one of the egg bind victims, in happier days

Cooking lately isn’t dissimilar to the slogging-through-words typing gloom. I was on a year-long high of budget-conscious, tasty meals, and now I’m kind of sad. I feel like I figured out how to eat well, be thrifty, and focus on the local. It’s not so much a challenge as a daily routine. And I like the routine. I like knowing where most of our food comes from, I like baking bread and spreading my own peach preserves on toast, I adore my chickens, and I get a kick out of selling their eggs to friends and colleagues. But sometimes thrift and self-sufficiency is a pain in the ass. I’m always worried about the clock – how much time do I need to budget for the bread to rise? How much time will it take to make dinner? Do I have enough time to cook and get Q to piano lessons? How many hours will it take to find recipes and make the grocery list and do the shopping? And now that Red Haven is gone, where will I find locally and humanely raised meat? How much time will it take to research other farms, let alone drive there? And on a more immediate level, there are the unexpected emergencies – like soaking an egg-bound chicken in hot water for twenty minutes at a stretch, four times a day, when what you really need to be doing is grading papers. And sometimes, this ‘project’ is heartbreaking. Especially when that poor chicken didn’t get better and we had to give her the coup de grace. Until this winter, I’d never killed a creature before – well, apart from wasps and stinkbugs. I’ve never even had to put a dog or cat to sleep. I cried over that chicken. Maybe more because I failed to save her than anything else. If there’s one thing I should know by now, it’s that for all the control I try to have over our food and the hours in our day, I can’t control life and death and the interior troubles of chickens. I don’t know if anyone ever truly learns to accept this. I’m trying.

No, I shouldn’t be sad. I should be thankful. If I’d never started on this silly project, I wouldn’t know myself nearly as well.

So what have I been cooking in the last few months? A lot of my favorites from the past year – like Lamb Meatballs with Mint. There’s been weird stuff, too – like Turnip Soufflé and Turnip Gratin. If you enjoy turnips, I recommend both recipes. But if you’re not a turnip fan already, well, I have a feeling that there isn’t much that will convert you. Then there was a Roasted Beet Salad with Nuts and Goat Cheese – yummy, and a dinner in itself.

But if I look back on the last few months, what I’ve been getting better at is cooking for a crowd and finding ways to cook fewer nights of the week. Here are three meals we’ve loved first for their taste, second for the amount of food that gets made for relatively cheap, and third for the number of nights I can breathe a little and just eat leftovers.

Pulled Pork in the Slow Cooker, from Mel’s Kitchen Café. For the past few years, I’ve hosted Christmas at my place, and because everyone lives out of town, it’s not just a one-day cooking affair; it usually stretches into five days of kitchen mania. This year, on a night when I thought I could just throw leftovers on the table, a few other guests joined us. Suddenly, there weren’t enough leftovers, and since there’s nothing I love more than to cook something delicious for people I haven’t seen in a long time, I settled on a picnic dinner: pulled pork sandwiches, coleslaw, potato salad, and a green salad. I adore this recipe for pulled pork because it makes the house smell delicious, and you don’t need a smoker – just a great big pork shoulder, a crock pot, some barbecue sauce, and the secret ingredient: liquid smoke. Find it in the same grocery aisle as barbecue sauce and ketchup. By the way – Mel’s Kitchen Café is a new favorite blog … lots of family-friendly recipes, and Mel’s been blogging for over three years. Her archive is incredible.

White Bean, Swiss Chard, and Sausage Soup, modified from Paula Deen. Paula’s been in the news lately, and people have had some pretty mean things to say about her cooking – so much butter, so much fat, and look where it got her: type 2 diabetes. Well, none of us are perfect, and we’ve all made terrible decisions when it comes to health. I say look on the bright side: Paula Deen has increased the profile of home cooking, and if you know how to modify a recipe to reduce fat and salt, many of her dishes are true gems.  This soup is one of them. Just halve the amount of sausage, increase the Swiss chard to 5 cups, and use reduced salt beans. Serve over crusty whole wheat bread and top with grated Parmesan … and it’s a meal by itself. A few other pluses: the ingredients are really inexpensive, the soup comes together really quickly, and the flavors improve each day the leftovers rest in the fridge. But if your house is anything like mine, those leftovers won’t last long … you might even fight over who gets the last serving.

Cheesy Pasta and Spinach Bake. E and Q are pretty good green-veggie eaters, but when it comes to spinach, Swiss chard, or kale, they’ll spend half an hour picking out every single leaf from their dish. This is the one exception. Another plus: this is easier than lasagna – no layering or wrestling with globs of ricotta. Two other notes: 1.) this makes A LOT of food – if you’re using tin pans, it’ll do a 11×7 pan plus an 8×8, which means you can freeze one for another day. Or, if your freezer is full, just make one deep dish 11×9 like I did. 2.) This takes a little time to put together – for me, about 1.5 hours, start to finish.

Ingredients

2 large onions, chopped

4 cloves garlic, minced

1 box penne

1 lb ground beef, turkey, pork, or lamb

1 lb baby spinach

1 can diced tomatoes, almost completely drained

1 jar spaghetti sauce

4 cups grated mozzarella

1 cup grated Parmesan

Italian seasoning

Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

1.) In a large Dutch oven or skillet, combine the ground meat, onion, garlic, salt and pepper. Add Italian seasoning to your preference (I love herbs, so I used 2 tablespoons). Cook until meat is browned. Drain the fat from the skillet.

2.) Return the meat mixture to the Dutch oven; add diced tomatoes. Cook uncovered 10-15 minutes over medium heat, until the tomatoes have started to break down.

3.) Add the spaghetti sauce and bring to a boil; lower heat and simmer about 30 minutes. Your goal is to fuse all of the flavors.

4.) While mixture is cooking, put water on to boil for the pasta.

5.) Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Lightly oil your pans, bottom and sides.

6.) When the pasta is done, drain well.

5.) Once your mixture has simmered 30 minutes, add 3 cups mozzarella to the mix and stir. Then add spinach and stir again.

6.) Pour the mixture into your oiled pans. Top with remaining mozzarella and Parmesan.

7.) Bake 30 minutes, uncovered. Let rest 10 minutes before serving. Enjoy!

Yesterday, E’s school called and said she was in the nurse’s office, crying, with a sore throat. So I left work early, picked her up, collected Q from her school, too, and headed home. We were there by 3:30, and the furnace had just kicked on. The dog welcomed us in the door, and soon the kids were cuddled on the couch with their blankets and books.

I went to the pantry for tea and honey – we were abominably low on both. Maybe there was enough for two cups of tea, but certainly not enough for a few days’ worth of cold-fighting. Then I opened the fridge: barely a dribble in the milk carton.  Finally, I scoured the medicine cabinet for children’s ibuprofen … and frowned at the half-inch of syrup at the bottom of the bottle.

So I called Dave. Two hours later, he was home with everything we needed, plus a container of ice cream.

Oh ice cream, most wonderful of sore-throat-and-sad-little-girl remedies …

But as we were eating that ice cream and enjoying milky tea with honey, I realized that I hadn’t thought once about the expense of our impromptu shopping. I hadn’t needed to. We have enough money for whatever E and Q need, whenever they need it. And if we want to include ice cream in the ‘need’ category once in a while, well, it’s not a problem.

I also don’t have to worry about not being able to pay the electric bill or car insurance just because my kid got sick and needed medicine.  More importantly, I have sick time: I can leave work early and not lose pay.

I have more than a few students this semester who have to worry about these things. They’re single moms trying to make better lives for their children; they’re 18 year old boys supporting their out-of-work parents; they’re teenagers taking care of nieces and nephews because no one else in the family can. And all of them work low-wage, hourly jobs just to scrape by.

Some days, when I’m in front of the class, and I see how tired they are, the distance between us grows to more than the length of the classroom. In their faces are the lives they lead when they leave the desks, computers, and fluorescent lights. Because ours is a writing class, I know a lot about those lives – the drugs, the abuse, unspeakable tragedy, unplanned pregnancies, depression, the struggle to leave bad neighborhoods and poisonous circles of friends.

Some days, I want nothing more than to set aside the essay writing and the sentence grammar. I want to bring in warm bowls of soup, loaves of bread, and piles of apples and cheddar. I want to say, Eat. For fifteen minutes, here, in this moment, there is plenty. And someone will, for a change, take care of you.

Of course, if I brought in a few pizzas, their happiness in the moment would probably be more complete  J

Regardless, as turkey day approaches, thanks especially to this semester’s EGL 092 students for reminding me daily how very lucky I am.

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I’m also thankful for cold weather greens (if you couldn’t tell! This is the third post about them J). They’re cheap, ridiculously healthy, and go well with my very favorite things: pasta and potatoes.  Here, three recipes to help you stay on budget, warm in the belly, and close to humble roots.

I’m just posting links to the recipes tonight rather than rewriting them … as much as I adore my students, I also have twelve inches of their essays to grade before the holiday arrives. Ever onward!

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Warm Potato Salad with Arugula. Every time I make this dish from Food and Wine, the girls clamor for more – especially the crispy potatoes. They never notice the Dijon dressing, which turns simple roasted potatoes into divine fare. Of course, the fanciness of arugula dresses things up, too, so this is a great side dish for company. There’s not much to like, and the times I’ve served it to large groups, there hasn’t been a potato (or arugula leaf) left in the pot.

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Pasta with Arugula, White Beans, and Walnuts. From Martha Stewart’s Everyday Food, this has been a favorite of ours for well over a year. The textures are terrific, and the ingredients are soooo reasonable … just a can of cannellini beans, a box of pasta, a bag of arugula, and a handful of walnuts. Of course, Parmesan cheese adds a great kick, but you don’t need much of it since the pasta has a surprising amount of flavor thanks to the walnuts and spicy arugula.

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Ultimately Easy Tortellini Soup. I posted a tortellini soup recipe awhile back, and it featured red beans, zucchini, plum tomatoes, red onion , Worcestershire sauce… I adore it, but my picky darlings picked out most of the healthy features and slurped just the tortellini and the broth. THIS tortellini soup from Annie’s Eats, on the other hand, might just trick your kids into eating spinach. As an added bonus, the soup’s super-fast and very economical … it’s basically a can of diced tomatoes, lots of spinach, chicken or veggie stock, and a little onion, garlic, and oregano. Then toss in your tortellini, and voila, the tasty soup comes together and is on the table in less than 30 minutes.

Then I turned on the last half of NPR’s Fresh Air. Terry Gross was in the midst of an interview with Marie Howe, and I bounced up and down in my seat. I may have squealed. I’m sure the smile splitting my face looked ridiculous to anyone who pulled up next to me at the stoplight.

I adore Marie Howe; her poetry collection, What the Living Do, was one of my favorites in graduate school. (The poem by the same title is a classic, often anthologized. You can read it here.)  But then I lost track of Marie Howe, and years passed before she released another book of poems.

It was incredible to hear her voice, unexpected, on an October afternoon. Then she read her poem “My Mother’s Body,” from her latest (and phenomenal) book, The Kingdom of Ordinary Time.

I bawled all the way home.

I wanted to call my mom right then and there.  She lives eight hours away, and I miss her. But she was in the Caribbean, unreachable. For a moment, I felt what it will be like when my mother is gone from the earth.

And I cried harder.

The mystery of mothers is that even though you once lived inside a woman, were a part of her, drank from her breasts, and slept in the curve of her arm, you can never know her. It is the deepest of intimacies, one without shape. And once you realize the extent of the shapelessness, it is terrifying. Unspeakable.  

This, I think, is love.

If you do nothing else this week, listen to the poem. Just go to Fresh Air; the interview is here. The whole 38 minutes are incredible; the poem begins at 31:04.

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Corny, all grown up.

Sunday morning E and I went to let the chickens out of the coop; we were a little later than usual, so the hens clattered and complained as we approached. As soon as we opened the door, they raced for the chicken tractor and fresh feed, but Corny plopped herself into the coop’s nesting box and refused to move.

Half an hour later, I went to check on her. Still there, and her body rippled and shifted with the effort of laying. She stood up, turned around, sat down again.  I hadn’t seen this before; somehow, I thought that laying involved sitting still and serene, maybe for 10 or 15 minutes, but definitely not the better part of an hour.

Silly me. I gave birth to two kids. It makes perfect sense that laying an egg is a painful, drawn-out process. And each hen goes through this every day, to pass an egg that will feed me, my family, my neighbors.

Thanks, chickens. Another lesson in giving and sustaining life. Gratitude. Another word for love.

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I found the following two dishes on the Mariquita Farm CSA website. Mariquita (ladybug in Spanish) is out in Watsonville, California, and their incredible recipe index is my new go-to place for vegetable-based cooking. I found the following recipes under “Kale,” but easily substituted collards, Swiss chard, or a combination of substantial leafy greens.

Greens and Ricotta Pie. In honor of my chickens, I offer this twist on a crustless quiche. The ricotta lightens and moistens the texture, and I was excited about the stems from Swiss chard. No waste, plus added flavor and crunch – perfect! Red pepper flakes give the pie a fun kick, too, or leave out the spice for picky eaters … just serve with sriracha sauce for spice-loving adults. 6 main dish servings.

Ingredients

1 large head Swiss chard, collards, kale, escarole, or other greens – about 1&3/4 pounds (I used Swiss chard)
1 Tablespoon olive oil
1 bunch green onions, sliced 1/4 inch thick
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon coarsely ground black pepper
4 large eggs
1 container (15 oz) part skim ricotta cheese
3/4 cup low fat milk
1/2 cup grated parmesan cheese
2 tablespoons cornstarch

¼ tsp red pepper flakes (optional)

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 350. Grease 9&1/2-inch deep dish glass pie plate.

2. Trim two inches from Swiss chard stems; discard ends. Separate stems from leaves, then thinly slice the stems and coarsely chop the leaves.

3. In nonstick 12-inch skillet, heat oil until hot. Add sliced Swiss chard stems and cook 4 minutes or until tender, stirring frequently.

4. Add green onions, salt, and pepper and cook 1 min.

5. Gradually add chopped leaves until wilted and excess moisture evaporates, about 5 min.

6. In a large bowl, with whisk or fork, mix eggs, ricotta, milk, parmesan, red pepper flakes (if using) and cornstarch. Stir in swill-chard mixture.

7. Transfer mixture to pie plate. Bake pie 40 minutes or until knife inserted 2 inches from center comes out clean.  

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A cup of bulgur wheat ... the gratin doesn't photograph very well, so I give you this.

Greens and Bulgur Gratin. I was a little hesitant about this since I’d only used bulgur for tabouleh … and the 2 lbs of green stuff meant sure rebellion from E and Q. I’m all for having the girls try new things, their chorus of moaning over their dinner plates is a surefire way to transform happy-cooking-mama into mama-monster. So I steeled myself against the monster, took a deep breath, and hoped for the best. And happiness of happiness! The gratin was met with suspicious pokes of the fork, a first small bite, and E’s proclamation of, “Hey Mom, this isn’t so bad.”

Success tastes sooo good … especially because the dense bulgur combined with the cheese protein filled our bellies quickly. It’s really the perfect low-cost, healthy, and hunger-vanquishing dish.. Serves 3-4 as a main dish or 5-6 as a side.

Recipe adapted from Mariquita Farm and Gourmet, Sept 1995.

Ingredients

1/2 cup bulgur
2 pounds assorted greens such as kale, collard, escarole, spinach, Swiss chard, and/or mustard greens (for a less fussy approach, just use one kind – I used kale, and it worked out just fine)

6 large garlic cloves, minced

3 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 cup freshly grated Parmesan

1 cup whole-milk or part-skim mozzarella, coarsely grated

For topping
1/2 cup fine fresh bread crumbs
1 tablespoon olive oil

Instructions

1. In a heat proof bowl, pour enough boiling water over bulgur to cover by 1 inch. Cover bowl with a
plate to trap steam and let stand 20 minutes. Drain bulgur in a large fine sieve, pressing out excess
liquid, and transfer to a bowl. (I didn’t have a sieve, so I used my hand-powered food mill. I just put in the bulgur, pressed gently with a spatula, and voila, the draining went along just fine.)

2. Preheat oven to 400F and lightly oil a 1 1/2-quart gratin dish or other shallow baking dish.

3. While bulgur is cooking, trim, tear into bite-size pieces, and thoroughly wash your greens. Drain in a colander. ***If using a variety of greens, keep each variety of green separate during the trimming, tearing, and draining process.

4. Put coarser greens (kale or collard) in a 4 1/2- to 5-quart kettle and steam in water clinging to leaves,
covered, over moderate heat, stirring occasionally, until wilted, about 4 minutes. Add delicate greens
(escarole, spinach, Swiss chard, and/or mustard) to coarse greens and steam, covered, stirring
occasionally, until just wilted, 3 to 4 minutes. Drain greens in colander, pressing out excess liquid.

5. In a large heavy skillet cook garlic in oil over moderate heat, stirring, until softened but not golden.
Stir in greens and bulgur and season generously with salt and pepper. Stir in Parmesan and remove
skillet from heat.

6. Spread half of greens mixture in dish and sprinkle evenly with mozzarella. Spread remaining greens
mixture over mozzarella and smooth top with a rubber spatula. Gratin may be prepared up to this
point 8 hours ahead and chilled, covered.

7. Make topping: In a small bowl with a fork stir together bread crumbs and oil until crumbs are evenly moistened. Sprinkle topping over greens mixture.

8. Bake in middle of oven 25-30 minutes, or until bubbling and top is lightly browned.

The gratin, step 5.

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And finally, here are five more blogs to whom I send The Versatile Blogger/Cherry on Top Awards. Today’s blogs aren’t necessarily devoted to food. Instead, each blog has given my life something extra – laughter, poetry, community, gratitude, possibility.  I hope they do the same for yours.

A Bit on Poetry. A Bit on Whatever. In my last post, I mentioned that I’m a poetry nut. Marshall is, too, and his blog is a great place to find out about the arts community in Philadelphia. But he also writes great posts on human rights issues, privacy, and the irony of veggie burgers at Burger King.

Andilit – Maintained by a former colleague, this blog is for anyone who’s given up everything ‘normal’ (ie., job security and health insurance) in the pursuit of their dream. In Andi’s case, the dream is writing.

Bump in the Road – Funny, heartbreaking, inspiring, and honest, Mia chronicles her battle with non-Hodgins lymphoma (now in remission), and the after-effects of aggressive cancer treatment.

Mama O’s Musings – This mom of two wacky boys takes on the hard stuff:  religion, depression, marital discord … you name it, she’s not afraid of it. And dear god, it’s funny. I dare you not to laugh, even when you want to cry.

My Pantry Shelf – Annie, a loyal follower of One Hundred a Week, mentioned this blog as a suggestion for the award, and I knew I’d heard the name before. I just couldn’t remember where. But when I went to the site, I realized this was the same My Pantry Shelf who won Food52’s “Best Dirt Cheap Dinner” contest last spring … the same week this site was reviewed there.  Small world, this local-food blogging community! So head on over to My Pantry Shelf, and don’t forget to check out that dirt-cheap Sausage and Kale Dinner Tart. I’ve been meaning to give it a go, and now I definitely will. It looks divine – a great addition to the ‘sneak in greens wherever possible’ recipe list.

Last Saturday morning, after four frantic weeks of teaching, grading, cooking, and transporting little girls hither and yon, I opened my email to a message from Hannah:  I have an award for you … Happy Friday!

Hannah’s from Seattle, and she’s been a regular follower and commenter on the blog since she found it through the food52 review last May. She also maintains Blue Kale Road. I adore Hannah for her dedication to her blog, (this week alone she wrote 3 posts), her willingness to try crazy new things (like chocolate bread and stuffed pumpkins), and her unflagging support of emerging bloggers like me. (This last thing is something I am not very good at – see below.)

 So when Hannah passed The Versatile Blogger and Cherry on Top awards to me, it felt like a kick in the pants … the kind that makes you stand up straighter and get yourself in order because, dammit, someone thinks you’re okay, and that someone must not be disappointed.

To get myself back on the blog bandwagon, I’ve sworn to post at least a few times this coming week, and all on the topic of seasonal fall greens – kale, escarole, Swiss chard, collards, arugula, lettuce. The dishes have all been made, the photos all taken … now I just have to find time to write the essays to accompany them. I have stories whirling around in my head, I swear. It’s just finding time to clatter away at the keyboard …

But. Without further ado, here is the first of the fall greens recipes, followed by fun facts about me (a requirement of the lovely award), and the beginning of my reciprocity to the blogosphere.

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Lasagna with Sausage and Kale. Winner of my personal ultimate comfort-food and sneak-green-into-your-child’s-belly award, this lasagna from Martha Stewart’s Everyday Food is worth every second of the prep work. And I adore the no-layering-of-ingredients approach: the noodles are broken into pieces before boiling, and once they’re 2 minutes from al dente, just mix them in a large bowl with the other ingredients – lots of ricotta, grape tomatoes, kale, spicy Italian sausage, and onions.  Pour into a 9×13 pan, sprinkle generously with Parmesan, and you’re forty minutes from heaven.  (The leftovers will also feed the family for at least one more meal and/or give you lunches for days.) I’m just linking over to the recipe since I didn’t change a thing … and I never will.

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The rule for the Versatile Blogger and Cherry on Top awards is that you have to list seven facts about yourself and then pass the award on to 15 other bloggers.  The fact part took about an hour to write since I’m neurotic about exactly how much of myself to put out into the e-universe.

Coming up with 15 bloggers is taking quite a bit longer because, well, I am not the best when it comes to trolling the blogosphere. Not because I don’t want to. But if I can’t make time to write a post, there isn’t time to read (and when there is, I promptly pass out at the computer screen and wake up fifteen minutes later with a keyboard pattern embedded into my forehead.)

So. I’ll pass the award to 5 bloggers at a time for the next 3 posts. I hope you like these first 5 as much as I do. They run the gamut from cooking to farming to chicken adventures and sustainable living; their attitudes are just as diverse – some snarky, some dreamy, some down to earth … but all supremely enjoyable.

1840 Farm

Fresh Basil

In Praise of Leftovers

Internet Cooking Princess

Tall Clover Farm

And oh yes, those 7 facts about me:

1. I’m a poetry nut – so nutty that I went and spent two years on an MFA.

2. I dreamed that I took my chickens into another country, and when I tried to return home, the chickens were confiscated at the border. I woke up crying.

3. Favorite books: Goat Song by Brad Kessler, Truck: A Love Story, by Michael Perry, SuperSadTrue LoveStory by Gary Shteyngart, The Hottest Dishes of the Tartar Cuisine by Alina Bronsky, The Adderall Diaries, by Stephen Elliott, Dark Star Safari by Paul Theroux, Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier, An American Childhood by Annie Dillard, poetry by Maxine Kumin, Tomas Transtromer, Elizabeth Bishop, Marie Howe, Larry Levis, and William Carlos Williams.

4. Last Saturday I went to The Red Palace on H Street in DC and cheered (well, screamed and laughed myself silly might be more accurate) for fantastic burlesque. You should go, too. Then head two doors down for amazing Pan-Asian cuisine at Sticky Rice.

5. Best summer: Krakow, Poland, 1999.

6. No iPod, so I still rely on the 6-disc changer in my truck. Its contents: Carolina Chocolate Drops; REM; Smashing Pumpkins; Taylor Swift; Toots and the Maytals; Au Revoir Simone.

7. You know that light feeling in your chest when you’re speeding down the highway, the trees are russet, orange, scarlet, and gold, and the sky is so blue it might just crack open and grant you all the possibilities you’ve ever dreamed of?

 I love that feeling.

It’s the familiar juggling act for any family: after a day of work, how do you fit in the kids’ activities, the adults’ activities, homework, back-to-school nights, bathtime, lunch-making … let alone deal with the thick and hairy lawn, stinky chicken coop, mountains of laundry, cluttered kitchen, and tumbleweeds of dog hair.

And writing about food? The four hours it takes to create one of these posts slipped past like weasels.

I just couldn’t find a balance.  My head shrieked with obligations and my body rebelled at spending hours underneath fluorescent lighting. Planning a week of meals felt like a Herculean task, let alone finding time to head for the Amish market, the farmer’s market, the dairy, and the grocery store (especially when the Amish and the dairy are closed on Sunday).

The wine and spirits shop was a much more attractive alternative.

I started to think that I might have to give up the blog, maybe give up writing entirely until next summer.  I couldn’t remember how I did it last year.  Then I looked at the date and timestamps for last spring’s posts. Most of them fell between midnight and 2am.

I was so tired already. I went to bed and cried.

Then, I had today.

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Photo from BiologyBlog.com - a great site with excellent descriptions of the orbweaver's webmaking process.

Dave and I head out to the chickens at 6am, in the dark. He carries a lantern and the watering contraption; I carry the feed. As we go, we veer in a wide arc away from the normal path to the barn. For the last month, a gigantic orbweaver spider has made its web just a few feet in front of the barn door, between the clothesline and the holly tree.  At first it was an annoyance; there’s nothing like a face full of sticky web before you’ve had your coffee. And this was a big web – at least 2 feet in diameter and 2 feet tall. But the spider has been so consistent that we’ve come to look for her in the evenings as she begins the web, and again in the mornings when the dew hangs like a million prisms on silky strands. If the web is gone, as it sometimes is thanks to bats, we check to see she’s in her favorite place, the shelter of a holly leaf.

In the dark, it’s impossible to see the web, but Dave lifts the lantern and there she is, suspended in the air and darting up, down, across. Her capacity for work seems endless. I wish for nocturnal energy.

The birds are still asleep when we reach the coop. They’re warm and heavy in our hands as we transfer them one by one into the chicken tractor, and they protest with occasional beeps. The dark immobilizes chickens; they stand almost as in a stupor. But it’s a great improvement over the daylight frenzy of wings, beaks, and clawed feet.

“Somehow I don’t think this is how real farmers do it,” Dave says, and he reaches deep into the coop for the last chicken. He holds her for a moment in the lantern light and smoothes her feathers, examines her floppy red comb. Then he places her gently inside and pushes the tractor to a clean patch of grass on the perimeter of the yard. I add the food and water, say farewell, and head for the house. Dave, just ahead of me, stops and waits. We link hands and pause at the web.

It is good to start the morning this way, with a spider, chickens, and my mate.

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After work, I come home to a cold house. The sky is gray, the wind fierce, clouds heavy and swift. Tonight, for the first time in nearly a week, I don’t have to go anywhere.

In the few minutes before E and Q get off the bus, I rummage tools and ingredients for an impromptu quiche:  cutting board, knife, onion, garlic. Half a container of mushrooms. Head of broccoli. Two red potatoes. Butter.  A dozen brown and white eggs.

I look out the window in the chickens’ direction. Their first egg arrived during the hurricane, and now they’re laying anywhere from three to five a day.

When the girls arrive, Q has circles under her eyes and E begs to watch a movie. The week’s been no kinder to them than to me. They curl up under a blanket and lose themselves in Sleeping Beauty.

I shake my head. Princesses and happily ever after. Bah.

Back in the kitchen, I turn on the radio and chop vegetables, melt butter, crush garlic through the press. Through the windows, the garden sits partially empty where we tore out the tomatoes, but the herbs still hang on, valiant in the wind. I love the blue-green of the grass as it bows to the gale, and the silver underbellies of the writhing pin oak’s leaves.

I drop onions into the butter, then potatoes, then mushrooms, then garlic and broccoli. Somewhere in between, the staticky crackle of my brain (send this email, plan that class, grade this stack of papers, sign the kids’permission forms, plan E’s birthday party) gives way to the scent of sautéed vegetables.  The gentle voices of NPR anchors. The whoosh of the oven as it ignites.

 A sprinkle of dry mustard and a shake of nutmeg go into the pot on the stove. Spice fills the kitchen and I nearly stumble with pleasure. It is almost too much – the blustering gorgeous familiarity of the backyard, my girls safe and warm on the couch, the miracle of backyard eggs, and the rich autumn pungency of nutmeg.

For a moment, happily ever after isn’t a fairy tale. It’s right here.

Once the quiche is in the oven, I sit down on the couch with the girls. E and Q scoot over for a snuggle, and I breathe in the familiar warmth of their hair. Aurora and Prince Phillip dance in a great hall, and the music builds to a crescendo.  E and Q sigh with happiness, and Q exclaims, “Isn’t it romantic!”

 “Boo hiss,” I grump. “Romance is over-rated.”  I don’t tell them about hand-holding and chicken/spider appreciation in the predawn. They wouldn’t believe me anyway.

The girls, undaunted, know the routine. “Mommm-eeee!” they squeal. In a flash they’re on top of me, and the tickle war has begun. We laugh and laugh and laugh all the way through the credits.

*

In these weeks of insanity, we’ve had a lot of easy, no-thought-involved, low-cost meals, like spaghetti with meatballs, scrambled eggs and toast, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. I’ve gone back to many recipes from blog posts past, too. I never thought that the blog would save my own skin! But a few new recipes have gotten me through. First is the by-the-seat-of-my-pants quiche described above; the other is a peach and mango curry.

Potato, Broccoli, and Mushroom Quiche (aka Emergency Quiche). If you’ve been cooking for a while, you probably know that a quiche can be the most forgiving and satisfying clean-out-the-pantry kind of meal. This one turned out to be pretty amazing – mostly, I think, from the use of butter and three types of cheese. It’s also the first time one of my experimental meatless quiches has had enough flavor – the nutmeg really is the supergirl ingredient. Finally, the general ratio here of half-and-half to egg works, too; the texture of the quiche isn’t too watery or too dry.  So go ahead – peer into your veggie and cheese drawers, grab a few eggs, and see what kind of lovely combination you come up with. While you’re at it, raise a glass to your own ingenuity.

Ingredients

3 Tbsp butter

½ cup onion

2 cloves garlic, minced

2 red potatoes, unpeeled and diced

6 large mushrooms, quartered and sliced

1 cup broccoli florets plus stems; stems and florets separated (just peel the stems with a vegetable peeler and then thinly slice – delicious!)

½ tsp dry mustard

¼ tsp nutmeg

Salt and pepper to taste

4 large eggs

¼ cup half-and-half

1- 1 ½  cups grated cheese, with ¼ cup reserved (I used gouda, cheddar, and Parmesan in no particular ratio, though I saved the Parmesan for the top of the quiche)

1 deep-dish pie crust, store bought or homemade

Instructions

1. Heat oven to 375 degrees.

2. If pie crust is frozen, set it out to thaw. With a fork, poke holes in the crust, gently, all over bottom and sides.

3. Melt butter in heavy-bottomed Dutch oven or skillet over medium heat.

4. Add onion. Saute 2 minutes; then add potato. Cook until potatoes are just tender to the bite – about 4-5 minutes. Add salt, pepper, and garlic.  Cook 30 seconds. Then add mushrooms, broccoli stems, dry mustard, and nutmeg; cook 2 minutes, or until mushrooms begin to release their liquid. Add broccoli and cook 2 minutes more or until broccoli is bright green. Remove from heat.

5. Whisk together eggs, half-and-half, and a little salt and pepper. Set aside.

6. Sprinkle a thin layer of cheese into the bottom of the pie crust. Top with a layer of the vegetable mixture. Add another layer of cheese, then veggies. Continue until you have a veggie layer that is about 1/8 inch from the top of the crust and you have ¼ cup of cheese remaining.

7. Whisk the egg mixture again until light and airy. Pour over veggie/cheese layers until the egg just meets the top of the crust.

8. Sprinkle top with remaining ¼ cup cheese.

9. Bake 35 minutes or until top of quiche is firm and gently browned.

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Peach and Mango Curry. If your farmer’s market is still lucky enough to carry peaches and tomatoes, this adaptation from Mark Bittman’s Food Matters Cookbook is for you. It’s ultra-cheap, comes together quickly, and makes enough for two nights of dinner (or dinner and a few days of lunch). But I loved the texture the most – it was so soft and comforting. For some people, the softness might be too soft, but as summer winds down and autumn blows in, I’m happy to taste and feel the gentleness of summer one last time. We served it over jasmine rice, which was a rich contrast to the savory tang of curry. By the way – this isn’t a terribly spicy curry, so if you’re inclined, a shot or two of PickaPeppa sauce would do nicely.

Ingredients

2 Tbsp olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

2 Tbsp minced fresh ginger (don’t use dried ginger – it won’t do the dish justice)

2 Tbsp curry powder

3 peaches, peeled, pitted, and chopped

1 mango, peeled, pitted, and chopped

4 large tomatoes, peeled and chopped (it’s worth taking the time to peel them … I didn’t and ended up picking out the sharp, dried peels from my bowl. Ick.)

½ cup coconut milk

Chopped fresh cilantro (don’t skip out on this – it really makes the meal)

Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

1. Heat the oil over medium heat for 1 minute. I used a large Dutch oven, but a deep skillet will work, too.  Add onion and ginger; sprinkle with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is soft and translucent.

2. Add the curry powder and cook, stirring, about 30 seconds or until fragrant. Take care not to burn the curry.

3. Stir in peaches, mango, tomatoes, and coconut milk. Bring mixture to a gentle bubble. Cook, stirring occasionally, until the fruit softens and the mixture thickens, about 10 minutes (a little less if your fruit is overripe to begin with).

4. Taste and adjust seasoning, garnish with cilantro, and serve over rice.

After the first loop, Gus stands still, panting, and cocks his head toward home as I head again for the straightaway. I think he’s listening for a rabbit, that he’ll soon come rocketing past me, so I keep going. But when I’m halfway down the path he still hasn’t appeared, I look back. He’s still standing there, a splash of white against the deep green soybeans. I run backwards and call to him. When he walks away, toward home, I’m astounded. Is he sick? Is he hurt? He’s not limping. What’s wrong?

 Then he turns and dashes toward me, his floppy ears blown back, that long pink tongue flying out the side of his mouth – and soon he darts into the hayfield, chasing unseen critters and snuffling for anything stinky he might want to roll around in.

But ten minutes later, on the last hill, he’s walking and far behind me. I wait at the top. When he gets there, he looks up at me and pants his big dog smile. I ruffle his ears, wet from the grass. C’mon, buddy. Slow and steady toward home. You can do it. And he tries. But I notice when we come near a corner, he ducks into the corn, trots a shortcut, and then comes out the other side, just at my heels.  Already, he’s trying to compensate, trying to keep up, trying to keep things the same even though we both know they’re not.

It’s the first year that I have more endurance than my dog. And it’s not that I’m in terrific shape; the double loop is less than two miles. The trouble is that Gus is nearly eleven.

When we get back to the house, the sharpness in my throat isn’t from thirst.

I know that things don’t stay the same, just as I know that the exhilaration of running and feeling satisfied won’t last forever – maybe not even a whole day. But knowing the logic of something  doesn’t make it any easier. Especially when change happens so suddenly.

I feel the same about this time of year, late August. Even before the hurricane, the weather changed abruptly. Cool air rolls in each evening along with the singing of the crickets, and the sky darkens in different shadows, different colors. The deep reds and oranges, those fiery sunsets of summer, have retreated, and the horizon is all lavender and pink-edged clouds. Even the clouds are different – puffier, higher, stacked up like spiraled whipped cream.

The crops are changing, too. With the advance of cool nights, the Japanese beetles have abandoned the broccoli and soybeans; the leaves are losing their lacey emptiness and growing new skin. But the cornstalks have begun to turn to parchment, and the tomatoes are slow to ripen – they’ve been green on the vine for weeks. In the mornings, I pull a sweatshirt over my nightdress before walking out to feed the chickens. I have a vague premonition of two months from now when in the 6am dark I’ll struggle into Carrhart overalls, thick gloves, and a stocking cap just to go feed my hens.  

Oh summer, you can’t go, not yet. C’mon, now. Hang on just a little longer.

*

To make myself feel a little better about losing summer and embracing fall, I’ve been combining as much seasonal produce as possible (peaches, watermelon, tomatoes, corn) with elements of fall (namely bread, soup, and succulent meats).

The result has been wonderfully tasty, frugal meals. It’s been easy to stay under $100 … I’m getting so spoiled with the garden in the backyard and all of the farmer’s markets in the area. Plus the cooler air has made baking, canning, and soup-making much more pleasant undertakings. Ah, the silver lining  J

Enjoy!

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Lamb Meatballs with Mint. I found the original recipe at Food and Wine, but I didn’t have time to fit in some of the fussier steps. So, fingers crossed, I baked the meatballs instead of frying them, cut some other corners, and hoped for the best. And really, it WAS the best. (My mom and my gram, who taste-tested the meatballs, told me to say so. And I have to send some love over to Meadowset Farm for their amazing ground lamb. I’d be nothing without you!)

This is a terrific back-to-school recipe for two reasons: one, it makes a lot of food – easily enough for 6 adults – so it’s possible to have dinner for two nights. Two, it’s freezer-friendly. Just make and freeze the meatballs and sauce ahead of time; then defrost on any hectic evening. Comfort in a flash!

We served the meatballs and sauce over Israeli couscous, added green beans as a side, and rounded out the meal with Tomato-Bread Salad, below.

Ingredients

1 pound lean ground lamb

1 egg

1/4 c. dry bread crumbs

2 Tbsp finely chopped mint

1/4 c. olive oil

1 medium onion, finely chopped

1 garlic clove, minced (or put through garlic press)

1/2 cup dry white wine

1/2 cup beef broth

1 c. tomato puree

Kosher salt and ground pepper

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Line a rimmed baking sheet with aluminum foil and coat the foil with vegetable spray.
2. In a bowl, mix the lamb with the egg, bread crumbs and 1 tablespoon mint. Season with salt and pepper. Form the mixture into 1-inch balls and place them, evenly spaced, on the prepared baking sheet.
3. Put the meatballs into the oven and bake 15 minutes, or until centers are slightly pink.
4. While the meatballs are baking, warm the olive oil in a skillet. Add the onion and cook over medium heat until the onions are soft and translucent, about 6 minutes. Then add the garlic and cook about 1-2 minutes or until fragrant, taking care not to brown the garlic.
5. Add the wine and cook, stirring, until reduced by half, about 5 minutes. Then add the broth, tomato puree, and mint. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer.
6. Add the baked meatballs and simmer over low heat until the meatballs are cooked through, about 3-5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper and serve over Israeli couscous, mashed potatoes, or rice.

Tomato-Bread Salad with Olives and Mint. I found this gem from Martha Stewart last year, and it’s become a staple when I have day-old bread and lots of tomatoes … pretty much all summer. I also love to make this with a variety of tomatoes. It’s especially pretty with a combination of yellow, red, and striped tomatoes – of all sizes. Serves 4.

Ingredients:

2 large tomatoes (about 1 ½ lbs) cored and cut into chunks

Several slices day-old bread OR 1 hoagie roll, cut into 1-inch chunks

1/3 cup pitted Kalamata olives, halved

3 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

2 Tbsp. olive oil

2 Tbsp mint leaves, thinly sliced

Kosher salt and ground pepper

Instructions:

1.) In a large bowl, place tomatoes, bread, olives, lemon juice, oil, and mint. Season with salt and pepper, and toss to combine. Let stand at least 5 minutes (or up to 30 minutes) before serving.

Super Sweet Hurrican Corn Chowder. I’d never made corn chowder before, but it was in the same issue of Cook’s Illustrated as the Peach Cake. So today, during all of the rain preceding the hurricane, Dave and I cooked together for the first time in a while. The result: a chowder that’s big on corn taste, light on cream, and pleasant in texture. I loved that the corn stayed crisp and the potatoes never got soggy. The kids actually ate the soup, too … E cleaned her bowl and announced “Hey Mom, that’s pretty good!” My only sadness is that it’ll be hard to achieve the same fresh, bright flavors with frozen corn in the winter; the recipe truly benefits from pulping the cobs and then squeezing corn ‘juice’ into the pot as a last step. But I can’t be too sad – we have two quarts of leftovers to get us through the worst of the storm. And then I’ll be making this all the way through September until the farmers harvest the last of the corn from the fields. Serves 6-8 generous bowls of soup.

Ingredients

8 ears corn, husked (and remove as much silk as possible)

3 Tbsp unsalted butter

1 large onion, finely chopped

4 slices bacon, finely chopped

2 tsp fresh thyme, minced

2 tsp Kosher salt

1 tsp ground pepper (limit this to ½ tsp if you aren’t fond of peppery soups)

¼ c. all purpose flour

5 c. water

¾ lb red skin potatoes, chopped into ½ inch pieces (Yukon Gold potatoes would work well, too)

1 c. half-and-half

Sugar, to taste (I didn’t have to use any; the corn was sweet enough on its own)

3 Tbsp fresh basil, chopped (for garnish, but highly recommended)

Instructions

1.) Cut the kernels from the corn, and then put the kernels in a large bowl. Set aside.

2.) With a butter knife, scrape the remaining pulp from the cobs into a second bowl.

3.) Place a clean, somewhat thin kitchen towel into a third bowl. Then transfer the pulp into the middle of the towel. Gather up the sides of the towel and wrap them tightly around the pulp. Squeeze tightly until all liquid is pressed through the towel. Compost your pulp and set the corn juice aside.

4.) Melt the butter over medium heat in a large pot or Dutch oven. Add the onion, bacon, thyme, salt, and pepper. Cook, stirring frequently, for 8-10 minutes. The onion should become soft and slightly brown at the edges.

5.) Whisking constantly, add the flour and whisk for 2 more minutes. Continue whisking and add water gradually. Once all of the water is added and your mixture is smooth, bring the pot to a boil. Add the corn kernels and potatoes; bring to a boil again and then reduce to a simmer. Cook 15-20 minutes or until the potatoes have softened.

6.) Once the potatoes are soft, puree two cups of the chowder in a blender. Return this puree to the pot. Then add the half-and-half.

7.) Return the pot to a simmer; then remove the chowder from the heat and stir in the corn juice. The original recipe says to season with salt, pepper, and up to 1 Tbsp of sugar, but we didn’t need any. In fact, the pepper was slightly dominant, which is why you may want to use less than 1 tsp of pepper in step 4.

8.) Ladle the soup into bowls, sprinkle with basil, and serve.

Fruity Salad with Herbed Vinaigrette. Mark Bittman, how do I love thee, let me count the ways … the recipes in The Food Matters Cookbook saved me again. I had no idea how to weather the upcoming hurricane, but this meal-worthy, no-cook salad with seasonal ingredients is the perfect way to uplift your spirits on a dreary, maybe electric-less day.

The salad is very customizable, too – if you wanted to substitute cantaloupe for the peaches, it would probably work well, and the herbs you include are entirely dependent on what’s available to you. The addition of a little meat increases the salty/savory/sweet deliciousness by a mile, and you have options there, too. Serves 4 adults as a meal by itself.

Ingredients:

1/4 c. olive oil

2 Tbsp lemon juice

½ cup chopped, fresh herbs (I used basil, chocolate mint, and parsley)

Kosher salt and pepper to taste

1 large head lettuce, washed and torn in bite-size pieces

2 large tomatoes, in small wedges

2 large peaches, sliced and then cut into bite-size pieces

2 cups watermelon, in bite-size chunks

1 avocado

½ cup Feta or Parmesan cheese (we used Feta)

A smattering of crispy bacon pieces, sausage bits, or thinly sliced prosciutto (we crumbled 2 links of pork sausage and browned them in a pan, then drained them on paper towels)

Instructions:

1.) In a large serving bowl, whisk together oil, lemon juice, herbs, and salt and pepper.

2.) Into the same bowl, add tomatoes, peaches, watermelon, and avocado.  Gently toss with vinaigrette.

3.) Add lettuce. Toss again, gently.

4.) Top with cheese and meat, if using. Serve immediately.

Then there’s what happens when you bite into a peach – the slight resistance of the skin, the give of warm flesh, and the explosion of sweetness on your tongue while juice runs down your chin …

Oh, dear. Here I’ve gone and lost myself in peaches. It’s not hard to do. As you can see from the recipes below, in the two weeks I’ve spent away from the keyboard, I’ve been enchanted by this most wonderful of summer fruits.  

Part of the attraction is that because peaches are so fabulous on their own terms, they don’t need exotic ingredients or complex baking apparatus to shore up their already stellar performance. As a result, the ingredient lists in the recipes are pretty basic and inexpensive, too – so if you bake, even just sometimes, you likely have everything in your pantry, save maybe the panko bread crumbs and almond extract for the peach cake. And even those can be substituted – just use regular bread crumbs and vanilla.

As for preserving peaches through the winter, check out the last recipe for Peach Preserves. It was an attempt at jam gone wrong … but then it turned out very, very right.

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Photo from TasteofHome.com ... cobbler is maybe one of the most difficult things to photograph.

Peach Cobbler. Oh, do I love a cobbler … and this one has the most amazing dough: the edges caramelize into a satisfying crispy-chewy crunch, but the center remains soft and dreamy as a pillow. The original recipe hails from Paula Deen; my concoction increases the peach content (and the baking time) so that the peach stays primary in every bite.

Ingredients

5 cups peeled, sliced peaches

2 cups sugar, divided

½ cup water

8 Tbsp butter, melted

1 ½ cups self-rising flour

1 ½ cups whole milk

Ground cinnamon

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Find a 9×11 inch (3-quart) baking dish. But a word of warning: the long, shallow pan is essential. I tried using a deep, circular 3-quart dish, and the middle of the cobbler was still raw after an extended baking time – ick.

In a large saucepan, mix the peaches, 1 cup sugar, and water. Over medium heat (you don’t want to burn the sugar mixture), bring the peaches to a boil. Simmer 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat.

While the peaches summer, place the butter in the baking dish. Pop the dish in the oven and melt the butter. Cool slightly after melting.

As your butter is melting and the peaches simmer, whisk together the remaining 1 cup sugar, flour, and milk. Do this slowly and carefully, or you’ll end up with unsightly clumps. The batter should be smooth and velvety when you’re done.

Pour the velvety batter over the melted butter. Don’t stir. DO NOT. Trust me.

Using a slotted spoon, place the peaches gently on top of your batter/butter concoction. Do your best to keep the peaches evenly distributed throughout the pan.

Then, gently and evenly pour two about 2/3 of the leftover syrup on top of the peaches.  Don’t stir! Have no fear – the batter will rise to the top during baking.

Sprinkle the top with ground cinnamon.

Bake 45-55 minutes, or until a knife inserted in the center comes out clean. The top should be golden-brown, and the edges should be crispy.

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Dave’s Peach Birthday Cake. This looks like a fussier dessert than the cobbler, but it’s not that much more work – especially because you don’t need to peel the peaches. The end result is a sweet confection that uses a hint of almond extract to amp up the range of flavors. And did I mention that this cake is gorgeous? It’s the bring-it-to-a-dinner-party-and-listen-to-the-ooohs-and-ahhhhs-gorgeous. The original recipe, called Summer Peach Cake from the most recent issue of Cooks Illustrated, recommends using a springform pan, but I don’t own one … so I decided to see how the cake baked up without one. Turns out a 9-inch glass round pan is just fine – just increase the baking time a smidge. The version below takes that into consideration, as well as a few other little tweaks. Serves 8-10.

Ingredients

2 lbs fresh, ripe peaches, pitted and cut into ½ inch thick wedges

4 tsp lemon juice, divided

1/3 cup plus 6 Tbsp sugar

1 cup all-purpose flour

1 ¼ tsp baking powder

¾ tsp salt

½ cup packed light brown sugar

2 eggs

8 Tbsp unsalted butter, melted and cooled

¼ cup sour cream

1 ½ tsp vanilla extract

¼ tsp plus 1/8 tsp almond extract

1/3 cup panko bread crumbs, finely crushed (plain breadcrumbs will do in a pinch, too)

Instructions

Place oven rack in middle position; preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and spray with vegetable spray.

In a medium bowl, gently combine 20 peach wedges with 2 tsp lemon juice and 1 Tbsp sugar. Set aside for use as garnish on the top of the cake.

Cut the rest of the peach wedges into thirds, so you create relatively uniform chunks. Place the chunks in a bowl and gently combine them with remaining 2 tsp lemon juice and 2 Tbsp sugar.  Then transfer the peaches to the prepared baking sheet.

Bake the peach chunks until the juices begin to thicken and caramelize, about 20-25 minutes. Let the peaches cool to room temperature while you prepare the rest of the cake.

Reduce oven heat to 350. Coat a 9” round baking pan with vegetable spray.

In a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt.

In a larger bowl, whisk brown sugar, 1/3 cup sugar, and eggs until well combined. Slowly whisk in butter; then add sour cream, vanilla, and 1/3 almond extract. Keep whisking until everything comes together in a uniform mixture.

Add flour to the wet mixture and whisk until just combined.

Place half of your batter into the prepared 9” round pan. Using a spatula, spread the batter evenly to the pan edges.

Sprinkle the panko bread crumbs onto the cooled peach chunks; toss to coat. (The bread crumbs soak up the peach juice and keep the flavor intact while preventing the cake from becoming too mushy).

Arrange the peach chunks in a single layer on top of the batter. Gently press the peaches into the batter, and be sure to fit as many peaches as possible into the single layer. You might have a few chunks left over; if so, pop them into your mouth as you move on to the next step.

Gently and evenly pour the remaining batter over the peach chunks. Then use a spatula to even out the batter and completely cover the peach chunks.

Arrange reserved peach wedges, edges kissing, in a ring on top of the cake. Save two or three small wedges for the center.

In a small bowl, stir the remaining 33 Tbsp sugar with 1/8 tsp almond extract until the sugar is moistened. Sprinkle the mixture evenly over the cake.

Bake 55-65 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. (I baked mine for 65 minutes and probably could have done 5 more minutes.) Let cool in pan for 2-3 hours prior to serving for easiest slice removal from pan.

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Peach Preserves. I wanted to make peach jam without pectin, and there was a recipe in my handy-dandy copy of The Art of Preserving. But I quickly discovered the cooking time wasn’t at all accurate; it said to simmer the peaches for about 15 minutes, after which the liquid would be mostly gone.  I let mine reduce for over an hour … and then gave up.  It was nearing midnight and I had to drive 8 hours to North Carolina in the morning with two little girls. So I ended up with Peach Preserves rather than jam, but I very much like these preserves. They taste exactly like a peach picked right off the tree, thanks to low sugar content and some generous, fresh squeeze d lemon juice. I have a feeling that, in a few months when the first flurry whitens the sky, I’ll crack open a jar of preserves and slather them on a thick slice of warm bread:  the full taste of summer in the middle of a snowstorm. Yields 8 half-pints.

Ingredients

5 ½ lbs peaches, fuzz gently rubbed from skins (don’t peel them … the pectin in peaches is mostly in the skin)

3 cups sugar

¾ cup freshly squeezed lemon juice

Instructions

Halve and pit the peaches; then slice them into ½ inch thick wedges.

In a large bowl, gently toss the peaches and sugar. Cover the bowl and let stand at room temperature for 4 hours.

When you and the peach mixture are ready, place the peaches in a large pot and add the lemon juice. Bring to a simmer over medium-low heat and cook, uncovered, stirring frequently, for about an hour. The liquid should have reduced and thickened slightly.

While the peaches are cooking, wash and sterilize your jars, lids, and screw bands. (For complete home canning instructions, check out the National Center for Home Food Preservation at the University of Georgia and click on ‘Using Boiling Water Canners).) Get your hot water bath ready.

Once the preserves are done cooking, ladle the hot preserves into the jars, leaving ¼ inch headspace. Remove any air bubbles and wipe the rims clean. Put on the screw bands and turn until fingertip-tight.

Process 10 minutes in boiling hot water bath. After the jars are done, turn off the burner and remove the lid from the canner. Let the jars rest 5 minutes. Then remove them to a clean dishcloth on the kitchen counter. Let them stand undisturbed for 12-24 hours to guarantee the best seal.

As long as the jars seal properly, they’ll keep for a year in a cool, dark place.  

The coop/tractor set-up has worked pretty well, but it means moving the tractor every day (sometimes twice a day if it’s frying-hot and we want to put the chickens in the shade and on fresher grass). The tractor is relatively cumbersome, too – not bad for Dave or me, but a headache for someone unaccustomed to lifting and pushing a mass of wood and chicken wire.

Let it also be said that chickens know who feeds them, and if that person (me) is absent, or if the chickens’ morning routine deviates by just one degree, mutiny ensues. Two of the white chickens are crafty leaders of revolt, and when Dave has tried to move the flock from coop to tractor on his own, those pearly birds lead the rest in a scramble for their favorite forsythia bush – located on our neighbor’s property. We won’t even begin to talk about how much time it takes to chase all nine birds back to our yard, much less get them all into the tractor.

Needless to say, what we see as minor chicken inconvenience (and usually humor) would equal a very big pain in rear for whoever we asked to babysit the birds.

It was time for a new construction project.

And of course, we are the world’s best procrastinators.

Two days before we left for vacation, Dave and I started to build a chicken yard. Those two days also happened to be part of the 103-degree heat wave that strangled the Baltimore-Washington-Philly-New York corridor. So we plopped E and Q in front of a movie, donned floppy hats and our oldest, rattiest clothes, and went to work.

After many splinters, chicken-wire gouges, and drenched T-shirts, here’s what we came up with:

It’s a series of 8×8 panels made of wood strips and chicken wire, and then we screwed all the panels together and into the side of our barn. The back barn door opens right into the chicken yard, which meant our chicken-sitter would have easy access to feeding the birds, and the ramp from the yard into the coop meant the chickens could get inside anytime they liked.

When my father-in-law saw the whole contraption, he guffawed, “Looks like the Beverly Hillbillies are back in town.”

I grinned. Yup. But chickens don’t care about pretty, and they loved their yard at first sight – especially the sawhorses covered with boards. At first we added them to give the birds some shade, but those ornery white chickens immediately played “I’m the king of the castle.” The more docile reds shook their heads and roosted in the sawhorses’ nooks and crannies, while Peaches dug a wallow and gave herself a dirt bath.

Vacation, indeed! So with the birds happy and safe in their digs, it was time to leave for our own week of R&R.

*

Sometimes I wonder what else we’d be doing if we weren’t building chicken enclosures or keeping an eye on the birds when they free-range around the yard in the evening. What did we do last summer? Maybe we went out for ice cream more often; I think we did some minor home improvements. I guess it wasn’t that important if my memory is so foggy. But I definitely won’t forget this first season of chickens in all of its sweaty, funny, and ridiculous glory. Though I do wonder when we’ll start getting some eggs for all of our labor …

*

Potato Salad with Green Beans, Bacon, and Tarragon Vinaigrette. While we were away on vacation and the chickens were enjoying their yard, I tinkered with potato salad and came up with this. It was a big crowd-pleaser and didn’t last long – even E and Q ate it up, and they’re notoriously suspicious of potato salad. Other reasons to love it? The absence of mayonnaise means it’s great for picnics, it’s wonderful at any temperature, and it gets even better with a day or two in the fridge.  It’s also nutritionally complete, though slightly naughty because of the bacon. (You can certainly leave out the bacon and still have a tasty experience, but I do love the crunch of bacon against crisp-tender green beans and a tender potato!)  But perhaps the best thing about the dish is that everything about it is in season, and potatoes and green beans tend to be some of the least expensive veggies.  So head to your garden or farmer’s market, pick up some fresh ingredients, and enjoy! Serves 8 as a side.

Ingredients

¼ lb bacon (about 6-8 slices, depending on thickness)

2 lbs small red potatoes, unpeeled and cut into bite-size chunks

½ lb green beans, washed, trimmed, and snapped in thirds

1/3 cup onion, minced

2 garlic cloves, minced

1/3 cup olive oil

5 Tbsp tarragon vinegar

1 tsp Dijon mustard

¼ cup fresh basil, thinly sliced

2 Tbsp Italian parsley, finely chopped

Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions:

1.)    Place potatoes in a large pot of salted water. Cover potatoes and bring to a boil; then lower heat and simmer until just done, about 15 minutes. Three minutes before potatoes are done, add green beans.

2.)    While potatoes are cooking, cut bacon into small pieces and fry until crisp; remove from pan when done and drain on paper towels. Reserve 2 Tbsp drippings for the dressing.

3.)    Whisk up your dressing in a large, heat-resistant serving bowl: combine the 2 Tbsp bacon drippings, onion, garlic, olive oil, tarragon vinegar, Dijon mustard, basil, parsley, salt, and pepper.

4.)    Drain potatoes and beans; let cool 5 minutes.

5.)    Re-mix dressing. Then add potatoes and bacon to the dressing. Toss to combine and serve warm or at room temperature.

My old tactics have come back to haunt me. When I ask E and Q to help in the garden, they develop a host of maladies, including but certainly not limited to sore throats, itchy scalps, sick bellies, and sweaty foreheads.  

Ah, payback ….

I’m sure the girls wonder (as I did of my mom) why and how I enjoy the hot, sticky, buggy chore of gardening – especially growing tomatoes.  

This is the answer I’d give them.

*

It is evening, the end of another hundred-degree day. The tomato plants droop and curl. I crouch to the ground and with one hand water the base of each plant. The other hand scrabbles weeds from the dusty soil. Despite drought there is a universe:  a line of ants flee the hose; earwigs burrow toward a drier corner; several gray spiders scuttle their egg sacs out of the nozzle’s reach. Even in gardening, this process of growing anew, I create havoc. It feels big and powerful and shameful and necessary – more emotions at once than I allow myself in a day.

I examine the tomato branches for suckers.  Finding a few new shoots, I squeeze them off with my fingertips, and a familiar, sharp tang rises in the air, sinks into my skin. E and Q will remark for days on the tomato scent when I pass the salt or wipe sweat from their brows.

My hands move along the raised beds, my body moves with purpose.

In the blue dusk, among the tomatoes, no one calls my name. The air cools. A slight breeze ruffles the pin oak’s leaves.

With the pruning done, it’s time for trussing. I lash lanky center stalks to their stakes, taking care to loop the fabric strips around the stems, prevent green flesh from meeting splintered wood. As I work, two white chickens strut over to inspect the tomatoes standing straighter, more dignified. They cock their heads at low hanging fruit, and their eyes glean with intent. I hustle them away, and the birds head for their coop.

 Evening floats deeper down on the horizon of soybean fields, on the rolling distant hills, the silos and barns, the fencelines and treelines.  I collect the ripest tomatoes, their red and yellow skins still warm with the day. Bowl under my arm, I go to the chicken coop where all nine chickens now roost on the ladder, their eyes half closed, and some of them rest a heads on another bird’s back or wing.

I close the coop door and head for the house, lights on upstairs where E, Q, and their books wait, where my brown and green fingerprints will touch pages and foreheads, the purest things I know.   

*

The recipes below are staples of our summer repertoire, and they’re the dishes that come out of serene tomato care.

None of the meals require a specific kind of tomato. In fact, we combine everything we have –Roma, heirloom varieties like Brandywine, and some hybrids like Better Boy. (I suppose you could be fussy and only use heirlooms for slicing, Romas for soups and sauces, but the variety makes things more appealing to me, and it means I’m more efficient about my tomato use.)

*

Perfect Tomato Basil Soup. For a long time, I avoided tomato soup – it was either too watery or too creamy, and the tomatoes seemed secondary to everything else in the recipe. But this, my mother-in-law’s recipe, changed my mind with just one spoonful. It’s a velvety consistency, and the flavors are so bright, smooth, and deep that you’ll forever be spoiled. Two other key qualities: the no-waste method is perfect for getting the most out of your tomatoes, and the soup freezes beautifully. Plus you don’t use any stock – this is what keeps that tomato flavor true and the consistency lovely. We try to make enough to get us through the winter  - often cooking up triple batches – because there’s nothing better on a snowy afternoon (or a busy weeknight) than grilled cheese sandwiches and homemade tomato soup. 

Quick note: the soup isn’t acidic enough for safe hot water bath canning, but it might make a good candidate for pressure canning. (More on that in a few weeks after I give it a go.)  Makes a little more than one quart of soup, enough for 3 adults.

Ingredients

8 large tomatoes (about 2.5 lbs), roughly chopped (don’t peel, seed, or core them – just remove any blemishes or bruises)

½ cup chopped onion

¼ cup chopped celery (about 2 stalks)

4 Tbsp butter (half a stick)

A very large handful of basil leaves, roughly chopped

1 beef bouillon cube

1 Tbsp sugar (optional, but recommended)

Instructions

Wash and roughly chop tomatoes. Don’t peel, seed, or core them – just remove any blemishes or bruises.

Melt butter in a large pot. Then add onion and celery. Over medium heat, saute until soft and translucent. Do not brown.

Add to the pot tomatoes, basil, bouillon, and sugar. Mix well. Bring to a boil, then lower heat and simmer, uncovered, about 40 minutes or until tomatoes are very soft and falling apart.

Remove from heat and let cool about 15 minutes.

In small batches, put soup into a blender and whizz until smooth. Take care to fill blender only to the halfway point; you don’t want to burn yourself.

Then put blended mixture through a food mill or Squeezo strainer; this will remove seeds and such.

Serve immediately, garnished with basil leaves if you like. Or, let cool to room temperature, divide into freezer-safe containers, and place in freezer for later thawing and use.

2-Cheese Pasta with Marinated Tomatoes, Basil, and Olives.  Versions of this summer classic abound, including one over at Fresh Basil, written and photographed by my friend Margaret. We were hanging out poolside with our kids and husbands the other day, and she asked what I was making for dinner. “Oh, something easy – pasta, tomatoes, garlic, basil, olive oil, Parmesan –“ I trailed off.

Then she added, “and feta and olives?”

“Yeah – how did you know?”

“We eat it at least one a week in the summer. I just put it up on the blog, too.”

So we had a good laugh, swam a little more with the kids, and went home to our respective kitchens.

The best thing about this recipe is that you can customize it to your heart’s (and pantry’s) content. No olives? No problem. Don’t like feta? Substitute something milder, like small chunks of mozzarella. Maybe add artichokes, or change up the herbs – tarragon instead of basil, or a blend of your favorites. Try bowtie pasta or gemelli instead of penne. Serve it warm, with the cheese melting and the tomatoes soft from marinating, or have the leftovers cold the next day. It’s delicious no matter what. Here are the basics to get you started. Serves 4 adults who enjoy smaller to mid-size portions. Serves 8 as a side dish.

Ingredients

3 cups tomatoes, chopped into bite-size pieces

¼ cup kalamata olives, pitted and chopped

3 oz feta cheese, crumbled

1/3 cup sliced basil

2 garlic cloves, minced

¼ cup olive oil

8 oz penne

¼ to 1/3 cup Parmesan cheese, grated

Salt and pepper to taste

Instructions

A few hours before mealtime, in a large serving bowl combine tomatoes, olives, feta, basil, garlic, olive oil, and salt and pepper. Mix gently and well. Cover and let stand at room temperature.

About 30 minutes before you’re ready to eat, bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add penne and cook until al dente.

Drain pasta well, but do not rinse. Add it to the serving bowl with the tomato mixture. Add Parmesan. Mix everything together and serve immediately.

Tomato Pie. Some old friends from graduate school turned me on to this last summer, and it’s been an instant success with everyone who’s tried it. It’s kind of like grilled cheese and tomato soup all rolled into the same succulent, savory dish. But be forewarned: this is not for people who are counting calories and fat content. I suppose you could try it with low-fat or skim ingredients, but you might lose the close-your-eyes-in-bliss experience. The original recipe from Paula Deen is here, but the version I most recently made is below. (By the way – I don’t peel my tomatoes for this pie – I don’t mind the skin, and it’s one less step to worry about.)

Ingredients

4 large tomatoes, sliced about ¼ inch thick

A large handful of fresh basil leaves, sliced into ribbons

½ cup finely chopped onion

1 9-inch prebaked deep dish pie shell (you can buy this already make at the store or make your own – but the prebaking is absolutely crucial, or the tomatoes will soak through the bottom of the crust)

1 cup grated mozzarella

1 cup grated garlic-and-chive cheddar (I got mine from a local Amish dairy)

1 cup mayonnaise

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

*Optional* If you want to drain your tomatoes of extra water, place them in a colander in the sink. Sprinkle with salt and let stand for 10 minutes. I’ve skipped this step the last 2 times I made the pie, and I had no trouble with the crust. But I have a feeling this largely depends on the kind of tomatoes you’re using. (Update: August 21, 2011 – Ha. I should have The bottom of the pie was soupy this time. From now on, I’ll always drain!)

In the prebaked pie shell, put down a layer of tomatoes. Top with a later of basil, followed by a layer of onion. Continue until you reach the top of the pie crust. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

In a medium bowl, mix the cheeses and mayo. Spread this thick topping on the pie, making sure to close all gaps around the sides of the pie. Don’t worry if you feel like you have too much topping – just put it all on evenly. It’s meant to be thick.

Bake 30 minutes or until top is golden brown. Let rest 10-15 minutes before serving.

What that means is that you’ll be subjected to many, many tomato recipes over the next few weeks – including tomato soup, tomato pie, a tomato galette, 2-cheese pasta with basil and garlic, and maybe even some salsa.

But to kick things off, I had a tomato-ethics failure just before tomato season began. The good news is that I redeemed myself with two mostly-local, super tasty, reasonably priced, no-cook recipes that you can use in the most oppressive heat of the year.

Enjoy, and stay cool.

*

I’m staring at tomatoes in the grocery store. In particular, cherry tomatoes bagged in red netting. Product of Mexico.

I pick up a bag, cup it in my hands, then put it down. I pick it up again and stand still, weighing my options.

E holds on to one side of the shopping cart, and Q swings from the other.

“Mama, can we hurry? I’m hungry,” Q whines.

Ella joins in. “Mommy, I want a balloon. Please, Mommy, please?”          

My head spins.

 I have to make a salad to feed fifteen people. Like a complete idiot, I want to use a new recipe, and this recipe is humming its siren song … the ingredient list makes me drool, plus it calls for the bowl of snow peas I picked earlier in the day. The problem is the recipe requires cherry tomatoes. They aren’t in season yet, and regular tomatoes are just cropping up at the farms where plants were started in greenhouses.  What’s the carbon footprint of these cherry tomatoes, trucked north from Mexico? What kind of soil were they grown in, what kinds of pesticides and fertilizers used? Even worse, what kind of terrible labor practices am I supporting if I buy these cherry tomatoes?

Part of my tizzy is thanks to Mark Bittman’s discussion of tomato farming in Florida and listening to NPR’s coverage of Barry Estabrook’s new book, Tomatoland. I’d just renewed my fealty to local tomatoes and figured that avoiding far-flung tomatoes at all cost was the best way to support human rights and responsible agriculture.

But then there is today. If I use regular tomatoes instead of cherry tomatoes, will the salad become runny and unappetizing? If it does, what will everyone think?!

I’m also running out of time: to use regular tomatoes, I have to make a separate trip to my favorite Amish farmstand. And that will leave not enough time to make the salad, clean up the kids, pack the car, and get to the party.

E interrupts my tornado of a brain. “Mommy, why are we waiting? Are the tomatoes okay?”

I look at her, then at the tomatoes. They are most certainly not okay – they are expensive, they are not local, and buying them will support everything I say I’m working against.

I snatch two of the red bags and look over my shoulder as if they’re contraband. We set a brisk pace toward the cheese where I buy Gouda of unknown provenance. If I’m going to fail, I might as well do it on a grand scale. 

*

The worst thing about my descent into failure is that the salad is a huge success. By the end of the evening the enormous bowl is empty and at least four people have asked for the recipe.

*

A week or so later, my mom and grandmother are in town for a visit, and it’s so hot that sweat runs down my spine even when I sit still. Turning on the oven is not an option. But the garden still yields snow peas, I have several large, locally grown tomatoes sitting on my counter, and two cans of beans rest in the pantry. I also realize I have some leftover cheese in the fridge.  It’s time to remake that salad.

And you know what? This second version is just as delicious as the first – maybe more so since the chopped tomatoes added their juice to the dressing.

To round things out, I mix up an accidental stroke of inspiration: herbed ricotta with rustic bread and tomatoes.  

We – four generations of women (my Gram, my mom, me, E and Q) – eat, and everything is fresh, crisp, homemade, and delicious.

It’s a small yet humbling redemption. If I could just remember to stop trying to impress people, slow down my life, and do what I know to be good and true, I might just become the person I want to be.  

*

And now, for the no-cook feast enjoyed by four generations:

Two-Bean Salad with Tomatoes and Snow Peas. The original recipe I used for the family picnic is here, but I’m including my re-worked, less expensive, locally-sourced, no-stovetop method. Serves 4 as dinner, 8 as a side.

For the dressing:

2 tbsp honey

1 tbsp Dijon mustard

1 tbsp red wine vinegar

1 tbsp olive oil

½ tsp kosher salt

¼ tsp pepper

For the salad:

2 cans of beans, rinsed well and drained – preferably 2 different types (I used a can of kidney beans and a can of chickpeas)

¾ lb snow peas, trimmed and sliced in half on the diagonal (sugar snap would work just as well)

2 large tomatoes, chopped

1 cup diced cheese (I had brie and cheddar left in the fridge; I used them both)

½ small white onion, chopped small (red onion or shallots would work just fine, too)

Instructions:

In a small bowl, whisk together the dressing ingredients. Let flavors mingle while you prepare the salad.

In a large bowl, toss the salad ingredients. Pour the dressing over the salad and toss until well mixed. For best results, refrigerate at least 30-45 minutes prior to serving. It’s even better the next day.

Herbed Ricotta with Rustic Bread and Tomatoes. The textures involved in this are so rich and sensual, and the flavors so bright, that I have an out-of-body experience every time I eat it (which has been almost every day since tomatoes arrived in my garden – there is a super abundance). Sometimes, when I’m having a rough patch with E and Q, or planning my fall classes is stressing me out, I fix this as a snack to remind me that goodness should always outweigh anxiety.

Measurements don’t really matter here, and neither does your assortment of herbs, as long as you like whatever you’re mixing into the cheese.

By the way – if you want to try making your own ricotta, check out Smitten Kitchen’s approach. It seems to be the easiest one I’ve come across. But if that’s too much to do on a hot day, store-bought ricotta will work just fine.

Ingredients:

One loaf rustic, peasant bread (I make my own and bake very early in the morning to avoid the heat)

2 or 3 large tomatoes, thickly sliced; I like to halve the slices so they fit more neatly on the bread

A large handful of mixed herbs, chopped somewhere between rough and fine (my favorite blend is chives, basil, and oregano)

8 oz. ricotta cheese (if you like your ricotta less herby, just increase the amount of ricotta)

2 tablespoons olive oil

Kosher salt and ground pepper to taste

Instructions:

Combine herbs, ricotta, olive oil, salt, and pepper in a small or medium bowl.

Spread the ricotta mixture on a slice of bread and top with tomato.

Eat. Smile.

Repeat.