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on the horizion

Published August 29, 2011 garden fare , pig brain , pig slop 8 Comments
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Like usual, I stood on the roadside last Friday cooling down after my late afternoon run and rifled through the mail. Continuing ed flyer from the local college, bill, bill, WI public radio fall sweepstakes form, and the New Yorker. One look this week’s cover by Istvan Banyai and I realized the source of the funk I’d been in all week. I so desperately want to pause. I want to put it all on hold. I want the the little vase of sweet pea blooms on my window sill to last forever. I want to lay down in the corn patch and stare up at the blue for as long as long as it takes. I want to disappear in a book at the beach and smile later when sand spills out into the bed. I want to live on cold-pressed iced coffee and tomato sandwiches. Is that asking so much?
My Dad and I used to play a little game with the New Yorker covers. Each week, we’d try and guess the cover caption. We’d phone in our contenders on Sunday night and whoever came the closest to the real title won a buck. He’s been gone for over six years, but I still can’t help playing the game (and by my calculations, he owes be big). I was mesmerized by this week’s cover. It sucked me in and held me. All I could think was “Pause.” I flipped a few pages in. The real title – the winning title – was “On the Horizon.” Which, in retrospect was even better. “Pause” suddenly felt a little stagnant. “On the Horizon,” though, now that holds potential.
Because as much as I want the heady smell of sweet peas to grace my kitchen, something way deep inside of me also longs for the scent of that first pot of stew, that hint of roasted garlic wafting from the oven, and the unmistakable smell of pine sap oozing from a burning log. And as much as I love my daily routine, my job, my path, it’s undeniably exciting to wonder, “what’s next? what is on the horizon?” Who knows, maybe some bit of change will sneak up on me when I least expect it.
My mood lightened as I walked down the driveway. Summer will be back. I can count on that. But I appreciated – maybe for the first time ever  – that it’s all the fragile, tenuous stuff in between that makes it so worthwhile, so precious. Revelations aside, I wholeheartedly suggest you live large while the living is good. Do yourself a favor and eat as many tomato sandwiches as you possibly can.
p.s. For anyone who is wondering, Queen Freeda’s daughter is alive and well. She is laying a pattern of brood that would do her mother proud. I can hardly wait to watch her legacy unfold!
garlic pig tamaty sandwiches 

1 loaf good, crusty bread, sliced
mayonaise
vine ripe tomatoes, sliced (sun-warmed if possible)
raw garlic, thinly slivered (I prefer Creole Red, it’s a great raw garlic)
fresh basil, chiffonade
Jane’s Crazy Mixed Up Salt (any old salt will do in a pinch)

Slice the bread. Spread on a generous layer of mayo (this is no time to be shy). Add tomato slices, garlic slivers, and basil. Sprinkle with a flourish of Jane’s. Go crazy. Summer comes but one a year.

let’s camp!

Published August 18, 2011 bread, crackers & sandwiches , garden fare , pig slop Leave a Comment
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Forgive me. It’s the height of summer (at least up here in Northern Wisconsin) and the garden is finally overflowing. So I feel like I ought to be rattling on about all the ways I have been using my glorious vegetables. But what really has my attention at the moment is biscuits. Mile-high, flaky biscuits. See, I went camping last week with my childhood friend Kathryn. And when Kathryn and camping get together, you can pretty much bet there will be biscuits involved. On this particular trip, it was Kathryn’s dad, Gary, who made the biscuits. But still, there were biscuits. Warm biscuits with butter and honey. Could there be a better way to start a day?

To accommodate his daughter’s dietary needs, Gary went all out and tried his hand at making gluten-free biscuits – how sweet is that? Truth be told, they were a bit heavier than your average biscuit. But they were still biscuits. Warm biscuits with butter and honey. And I can assure you that there is certainly not a better way to kick off a day of paddling than with a belly full of biscuits. I give Gary an A+ for effort. His biscuits reminded me that I have been meaning to try a recipe from a delightful little cafe I visited in Charleston, SC earlier this spring.
I decided a batch of these old-fashioned biscuits would be just the thing to help me ease back into work and the daily routine. I could take them outside with my morning coffee and pretend like I was still camping. Perfect. I knew I had some White Lilly flour lingering in my freezer that my mom had lugged home from Charleston. White Lily is a low-gluten flour made from Southern grown soft winter wheat. It’s the type that makes extra fluffy quick breads and biscuits. You can substitute cake flour or other low-gluten flours to achieve the same results.
While these biscuits may be low-gluten, they aren’t exactly low-fat. But they are so worth it. Especially if you take them outside and pretend like you’re camping. The recipe, which comes from a fun little hand-illustrated cookbook published by the Hominy Grill, calls for all three of the traditional fats – butter, lard, AND shortening. But it’s okay – we’re camping, remember? I don’t keep shortening on hand, so I kept the amount of fat called for the same, but replaced the shortening with butter. I’m sure a true southern cook would detect this omission, but my taste buds were none the wiser for it. And you could no doubt get by with using all butter.
To even further soften my transition back to reality, I made a side of Honey-Thyme Butter to accompany my biscuits. I was inspired by a Honey-Thyme Ice Cream recipe from Amanda Hesser. It’s such a great combination that I wanted to try it in butter as well. I used lemon thyme with the butter and it was perfectly lemony. I’m sure regular thyme would be equally as tasty. For an even more savory treat, try adding a pinch or two of fresh minced garlic into the butter. Maybe it’s just me, but I love the taste of garlic, butter, and honey. A blend that I accidentally discovered years ago while camping – of course!

And since I don’t want to completely short-change you on the vegetable front, I’ll at least tip you off to some of my favorite combinations this summer.

Cukes: Toss coins or matchsticks with a bit of seasoned rice vinegar, toasted sesame oil, salt and red chili flakes

Zucchini: A riff on a 101 cookbooks recipe, caramelize some shallots and garlic, toss in a layer of zucchini coins to brown on both sides and finish if off with a healthy handful of chopped dill and crumbled feta. Left unattended, I can polish off an entire pan of this in a heartbeat. It also makes a great lunch stuffed into a pita.

Green beans: This concoction is adapted from the now defunct Fhima’s in downtown St. Paul. Combine equal parts teriyaki and peanut butter, add in fresh garlic, chopped green onions, and cayenne to taste. Serve over lightly steamed green beans.

Mile High Biscuits
(adapted from the Hominy Grill)

4 cups flour, plus additional for kneading
(use a southern biscuit flower or substitute cake flour)
2 tablespoons baking powder
2 teaspoons sugar
1 teaspoon salt
8 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons lard
1 1/2 cups buttermilk

Sift the dry ingredients together into a large bowl. Cut in the butter and lard with a fork or pastry cutter until you get pea sized lumps of butter. Add in the buttermilk and mix until the ingredients are just moistened. Turn out onto a floured board and knead a few times until a ball forms. Roll or pat the ball into a circle about 1 inch thick. Cut out biscuits with a lightly floured cutter and transfer them to a baking sheet. Bake the biscuits in a 425ºF oven for about 15 minutes, or  until they are golden brown. Makes about 12 2 1/2 inch biscuits.

Honey-Lemon Thyme Butter

6 ounces butter, room temperature
4 tablespoons liquid honey
1 tablespoon fresh chopped lemon thyme
a pinch of fresh minced garlic (optional)

Combine and mix well, chill slightly.

the dirt dog

Published July 25, 2011 pig slop , sweets 5 Comments
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I had a milestone birthday last week. It was the big 4–0. My friend Jeremy turned forty a full week before I did, so at least I had someone to walk me through it. Jeremy’s main issue with it all was that people kept asking him how he was doing, and was he okay – as if he had just been diagnosed with some strange illness. If anyone had doubts about my health and well being they kept it well hidden. For the most part, I just found that people were extra special nice on to me on this particular birthday. To be honest, I thought turning forty was really pretty fun.

I decided to take full advantage of the occasion. I even played the “I deserve a big gift” card with my husband. But I’m embarrassed to admit that my heart’s one true desire upon turning forty was . . . was, well, a vacuum cleaner. Yes, I could have probably asked for just about anything, and I go and pick a vacuum cleaner. But a nice vacuum cleaner. The truth is, I love to vacuum. I find it immensely satisfying. Therapeutic even. The fact that the house gets clean in the process almost seems like an added bonus. But I’ve always been underwhelmed with the performance of my vacuum. For years, I’ve suffered from serious vacuum cleaner lust.

Mark went above and beyond the call of duty and even agreed to go vacuum cleaner shopping with me. He patiently stood by while I test drove various models, hemming and hawing over hose lengths and onboard attachments. In the end, I settled on a Dyson. And I LOVE it. It’s purple, it’s cute, and weighing in just shy of 12 pounds, it is extremely maneuverable. It’s relatively quiet, it sucks up pet fur like nobody’s business, it’s compact and easy to store. I often worried that my old vacuum had as much dust billowing out of it as it was taking in – not with the Dyson. There isn’t a single thing I don’t love about my new vac. Mark calls it the Dirt Dog. Loyal and eager to please. It might just be my new best friend.
I even got to try out my new toy a few days prior to my actual birthday. A handful of friends were coming over to celebrate with cocktails on the deck. True, we were going to be outside, but still, shouldn’t the rest of the house be clean too? Mark conceded and let me vacuum till my heart’s content. Bookshelves, couch, ceiling fan, floor vents. Nothing was safe from the reach of my new wand. With the vacuuming out of the way, I turned to the party food. I decided to keep it simple and settled on a few of my favorite finger food type hors d’oeuvres. Drinks to combat the hot weather were easy too – refreshing minty bootlegs and icy tart cherry cosmopolitans. Leaving only the cake to figure out.
I grew up with pineapple upside down cake. I’m pretty sure as a kid it was all about the maraschino cherries. But somewhere along the line, the rest of the ensemble grew on me too. I still love the unmistakable sweet tang of pineapple mixed with plain old vanilla cake. Plus, there’s no denying how fun and silly it is. Which is why I thought this would be just the cake to ring in my fourth decade.
Even though I was throwing a little party to celebrate, I pondered over how to avoid a big fuss over an actual birthday cake. And then it hit me. Cupcakes. Just the discreetness I was looking for. So I took my grandmother’s pineapple upside down cake recipe and modified it for the cupcake tin. I also decided for a more grownup approach with the cherries. I took a handful of fresh picked tart cherries and soaked them in rum and honey for a few days. I think it’s safe to say I’ve found my maraschino cherry replacement.
The cupcakes were adorable. I’m not sure I’ll ever go back to my standard skillet version. Each cupcake was so personalized with its mini ring of pineapple and cherry. And topped with a dollop of rum spiked whipped cream, theses little handheld cakes gave the typical wedge of cake a run for the money.
Pineapple Upside Down Cupcakes
Makes 16 average size (2 1/2″)  cupcakes

For the cherries:
16 tart cherries, whole and pitted
2 tablespoons honey
4 tablespoons dark rum

Mix rum and honey well and leave cherries to soak, covered, for 3 to 4 days.

For the topping:
4 tablespoons butter
16 teaspoons dark brown or muscovado sugar
16 pineapple rings
16 rum and honey soaked cherries

For the cake:
3 eggs
1 cup white sugar
1/4 cup reserved pineapple juice
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 1/4 cup flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon slat

Preheat oven to 375º F. Grease 16 muffin wells with cooking spray or butter. Cut each tablespoon of butter into quarters to make 16 little cubes of butter. In each well, put a cube of butter and 1 teaspoon brown sugar. Pop the muffin pan(s) into the warm oven for a few seconds to melt the butter and sugar. Remove from heat. Depending on the size of the pineapple rings, slice anywhere from a  1/4″ to 1/2″ section out of the ring. Do a test ring to determine how much you need to slice out. The cut ring should lay neatly into the muffin well, sort of reforming a complete circle. Put a ring of pineapple in each well, followed by a cherry pushed into the center of each ring.

For the cake, separate the three eggs, reserving the whites into their own bowl. Beat the yolks until light and smooth. Add the sugar, pineapple juice, and vanilla. Beat until the sugar is well dissolved. Sift together the flower, baking powder, and salt. Stir into the egg mixture. Beat the egg whites until they hold soft peaks. Fold whites gently into the batter. Pour over the fruit, filling each well 3/4 full.

Start the cupcakes baking at 375º F and trun down the heat to 350º F after about 5 minutes. Bake for about 15-20 minutes until a toothpick inserted comes out clean. Remove from oven. After a few minutes, run a knife around each cupcake until they seem loose. Put a large cookie sheet on top of the muffin pan and carefully flip the whole works over to release the inverted cakes. Let cool.

For the spirited whipped cream:
I cup heavy whipping cream
1 tablespoon white sugar
1 tablespoon dark rum
1/2 teaspoon vanilla

Beat everything together in a cold mixing bowl until desired consistency is reached. But don’t do like I did on my birthday and almost make spirited butter instead.

another keeper

Published July 18, 2011 garden fare , pig slop , sauces, salsas, preserves 4 Comments
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Finally. Something has diverted my attention away from the mighty garlic scape. The tart cherries are lining up for their moment of fame. And they are so excited about it that they are nearly bouncing off their branches. Our cherry trees are conveniently planted along the path we take to get to our cars and shed. Which means I almost always pop a few in my mouth en route. They are so tricky, those cherries. Sun warmed and fruity, but with a tang that makes your mouth stand up and say “Howdy!” Such a tease.

My new favorite smoothie is a simple affair involving kefir, a big handful of tart cherries, a spoonful of finely shredded coconut and a bit of honey to sweeten things up. Now that is a way to start the day.

But wait. Before I get all wrapped up with the cherries, I promised the sugar snap peas that I would put in a word for them. They were a little late to the party this year, but they are now coming on hot and heavy – as if to make up for lost time. We had our first official pea feast on Saturday night. I heated a couple of tablespoons of butter in the wok, added about a pound of stringed peas and seared them for a minute or so before tossing in a small handful of chopped thyme, sea salt and fresh pepper. I gave them one more minute on the heat to let everything meld and turned them out onto a platter. Then I blew the whistle and it was an all out, no holds barred situation at the dinner table. Yum.
Okay, where were we? Cherries, right. My friend Gina makes the most lovely tart cherry jelly. Ruby red and clear as glass. I knew I would love Gina forever after the first time I attended an annual Winter Solstice party that she and her husband Olaf throw each year on December 21. On the darkest and deepest night of winter, their house overflows with warmth, coziness and light. Heartfelt toasts with Aquavit – the Scandinavian “water of life” spirit – flow freely. It is truly a joyous night. But here’s how I really know Gina is a keeper. As each guest gets ready to depart into the cold winter night, she discreetly slips a small jar of tart cherry jelly into their hands. A little gem. A little ray of sweet light.
It’s been a good 8 or 9 years since my first taste of Gina’s cherry jelly, but I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was January. It was cold. Her cherries transformed my english muffin and my day. I was so inspired by it that I went up to my desk and composed a cherry haiku for her. And I have never missed a Winter Solstice party since. Which is a good thing for many reasons, one being that I don’t have the patience for making jelly. It just seems so fussy, with the straining and all. So I typically stick to the more unrefined, rustic jams and preserves.
Cherry season began as usual for me this year, with a batch of Cherry Honey Jam. But then I got a little crazy and made a zingy Cherry and White Pepper Preserve. And I think it is going to be a rising star in the kitchen. Just like Gina, this one’s a keeper. It’s such a simple recipe, but there is so much going on. The heat of the pepper and the intense cherry flavor mixed with just enough sweet to take the edge off. Zowie. I can already taste it on a pork tenderloin, smeared into barbecued ribs, or dotted on goat cheese crostini. Or how about a spoonful of it mixed in with a batch of stir-fried sturdy greens and garlic? And just think what it might do to a savory stuffed squash. I can almost not wait for the first brisk fall night when it seems right to try it. Almost.
I use Pomona’s Pectin for the jam and pretty much follow the recipe that comes with it. The preserve recipe is adapted from Sherri Brooks Vinton’s Put ’em Up! I used raw sugar instead of refined and also added a bit of honey. And I opted for white pepper instead of black. I thought its richer and spicier flavor might be a nice touch – and it was.
Tart Cherry Jam
From Pomona’s Universal Pectin
4 pounds of tart cherries (for 4 cups mashed fruit)
1 cup honey (more or less to taste)
2 teaspoons pectin Pomona’s pectin powder
2 teaspoons calcium water
Makes approximately 4 – 5 cups
Wash and sterilize your jars. Clean the cherries if necessary and stem and pit them. There is no denying that this is a bit of a messy job – the deck is a perfect place for it. Lightly crush the cherries with your fingers or a fork. You want to end up with 4 cups of mashed cherries and juice. Place cherries in a non-reactive pot over low heat, and add the calcium water to the fruit. Measure room temperature honey into a separate bowl and stir in the pectin powder.  Bring the cherries to a boil. Add the pectin-honey mixture and stir vigorously for 1 – 2 minutes to dissolve the pectin and honey. Return mixture to a boil and remove from heat. Ladle into prepared jars, leaving about 1/4 inch of headspace. Attach sterile 2 piece lids and process in a boiling hot water bath process for 10 minutes. Remove jars from canner, label, and store in a cool dark place without rings.
Cherry and White Pepper Preserves
Adapted from Put ’em Up!
3 pounds of tart cherries
1 cup raw sugar
1/4 cup honey
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 teaspoons fresh ground white pepper
Makes approximately 3-4 cups
Wash and sterilize your jars. Put 2 or 3 small saucers in the freezer. Clean the cherries if necessary and stem and pit them. Again, I recommend somewhere outside for this job. Place cherries in a non-reactive pot over low heat, stirring and lightly crushing the fruit a bit. Add in the sugar, honey, and lemon juice and stir until the sugar dissolves. Raise the heat to medium-hot and bring to a boil. Once boiling, adjust the heat to keep the mixture at a nice boil and cook for about 25 minutes. Give it a stir every now and again to make sure nothing is sticking. After 25 minutes  you can start testing for gel set. To test for set remove pan from heat and put a spoonful of fruit on one of your frozen saucers. Return the plate to freezer for about a minute, then take it out and run your finger through the fruit. If it wrinkles or shows the slightest bit of resistance, the preserves are good to go. If the fruit is still runny and loose when you slide your finger through it, return the pan to heat and boil for another couple of minutes. Test again and repeat if necessary. Timing will vary depending on the amount of natural pectin in the fruit. Once gel set is reached, remove from heat, ladle into prepared jars, leaving about 1/4 inch of headspace. Attach sterile 2 piece lids and process in a boiling hot water bath process for 10 minutes. Remove jars from canner, label, and store in a cool dark place without rings.

young love

Published July 10, 2011 garlic patch , pig slop , snacky-snacks 1 Comment
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Dear Dilly Beans,

I thought you should know that I’ve met someone new. And I’m positively smitten. Please know that it’s nothing personal. I still care for you. Really, I do. It’s just I’ve found someone who shares your same crunch, your same tang, and that fine dill flavor – but with so much more to offer. These beauties also have a subtle, well rounded garlic flavor packed into their jars. And to be fair, well, it’s because they are garlics. Garlic scapes anyways. I think my new love and I have a promising future together. I can see them on antipasto platters, mixed into salads, and bobbing around in tomato-based cocktails. And I’m already dreaming of the cold, dreary March afternoon when I pop the lid and start eating straight from the jar. I hope you can take comfort in the fact that without you, my dear Dilly Beans, I might not have ever even discovered my new crush. So I promise to make room for both of you on my plate. I only hope you can wait until my dilly scape honeymoon is over.

Sincerely,
Garlic Pig

It’s true. I’ve fallen for another. I was sort of set up though. It all started a week or so ago when I was reading through one of my latest favorite books (in preparation for kimchi and kraut season), Wild Fermentation by Sandor Ellix Katz when I came across his father’s recipe for classic dilly beans. Here’s where things start to get sticky. I knew there was a few pounds of fresh picked scapes waiting in the fridge. Hmmm. I did a quick google search that revealed that I wasn’t alone in my wayward ways. There are a handful of people out there who share my same wild thoughts.

Next, I went to my tattered copy of the Ball Blue Book of Canning and compared dilly bean recipes. I settled on a combination of the two recipes and got to work. I rationalized that it wasn’t intentionally going astray. I mean let’s be honest, the green beans are weeks away from being ready. I couldn’t have pickled them if I wanted to. I just settled for the next best thing, that’s all. How can I help it if I happened to fall head over heals?

Pickled Dilly Scpaes

1 pound fresh garlic scapes

1 1/4 cup water
1 1/4 cup white vinegar
2 1/2 tablespoons kosher salt

whole white peppercorns
dried hot chilies (I used bird’s eye)
fresh dill – heads or leaves, or a combination

Gather, wash, and sterilize your canning jars. If you really pack the jars tightly, one pound of trimmed scapes will fill about 36 ounces of jar space. I did a combination of 8 ounce, half pint jars and taller 12 ounce jars. If you don’t plan on doing a tight pack, you will need more jars AND more brining liquid, so plan accordingly.

Wash and dry the scapes (if necessary) and trim the tops, just below the bulging flower head. Do I need to remind you to save the tops to make a stock with? I didn’t think so. Next, do a quick jar measurement and trim the scapes to fit into whatever size jar you have chosen so there is about 1/2 inch of headspace. After you have trimmed all the scapes to size, pack them into the sterile jars, sort of bending out the curvy parts as you go. Add 1 fresh dill head (or leaves), 1 dried chili pepper and 2-3 peppercorns to each jar.

For the brining solution, bring the water, vinegar, and salt to boil in a saucepan and remove from heat after salt has dissolved.

Pour the hot brine into the jars, filling until there is 1/4 inch of headspace. Secure sterilized 2 part lids and process in a boiling hot water bath for 10 minutes. Remove from canner, let cool, label jars and store without bands for at least a few weeks to let the flavors develop.

here’s to exceptions

Published July 8, 2011 garlic patch , pig slop , snacky-snacks 3 Comments
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We skipped the Fourth of July fireworks this year. And the parades. And the community potluck. Instead, we stayed home, seared a rib eye on the grill, tossed up a fresh Cesar salad, cranked some Rachmaninov, and watched a perfect banana moon rise through the trees. If I had it my way, this is how we’d spend every Fourth of July. I’m just not a crowd person. Except for the Minnesota State Fair. I bend the rules for that. It’s in my blood. (48 days and counting).

The flowers have finally started blooming, which made for a very nice, very quiet firework display on our deck. The garlic scapes put on quite a show as well. They went all out, slathering themselves in a beer batter and then hoping into a pan of hot oil for the grand finale. And my, oh, my. They truly outdid themselves. But first, I need to tell you that I really don’t get into deep frying. I have a small kitchen, a finicky gas stove, and a lack of good ventilation. None of which is conducive for deep frying. Still, I lust after buttermilk fried chicken recipes and dream of all the summer tempura possibilities. Occasionally, on cold winter mornings especially, I’ll cave and turn out a batch of steamy honey donuts, but other than that, I don’t fry.
Until now. Now, I might have another exception on my hands. I’m full of them lately, aren’t I? You’ll be glad though – I promise. Light and crunchy on the outside, warm and creamy on the inside with just a tease of garlic flavor. I’ve been on a garlic scape cooking craze lately, and making something festive for our Fourth of July meal felt like the right thing to do. I pilfered my stash of “maybe, someday, after I’ve built myself an outdoor kitchen, I might actually fry something recipes” and pick and chose from them to come up with a good old-fashioned beer batter. I also mixed up a quick tamari dunking sauce which was a perfect match for these golden beauties.
So go on! Get yourself some scapes at the Saturday market. And then shed any frying fears you might harbor and give these a try. They are so very worth it.
p.s. Buy some extra scapes while you’re at it. Pickled Dilly Scapes are up next!
Beer Battered Garlic Scapes
1/2 pound fresh garlic scapes
spoonful rice flour
salt and pepper

1/2 cup rice flour
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1 small egg, beaten (or half of a large egg)
few dashes of Tabasco
up to 1/2 cup flat beer
oil for deep frying (Be sure to use something with a high smoking point. I used a combination of canola and peanut oil)

Trim the tops of the scapes just below the bulge (save the tops for soup stock if you wish). Give scapes a rinse under water and pat off most of the moisture with a towel. Toss them in a bowl with a spoonful of rice flour. Season generously with salt and pepper.
In a large, shallow dish, mix together the flour and cornstarch. Whisk in the beaten egg, tabasco and enough beer to make a thick batter.
Pour enough oil to reach an inch or two of depth into a heavy, deep sided pot, suitable for frying. Attach a thermometer and heat the oil to 375º F. Adjust the heat as you go to keep the oil as close to 375º F as possible, and be wary of hot oil and spatters. Dip the lightly floured scapes into the batter and use you fingers, if necessary to help coat the scape. Depending on the size of your pan, you can probably fry 2-3 scapes at a time, but be sure not to overcrowd them. Lower the scapes in the hot oil. Cook for a minute or two until they are golden brown, flipping once. Remove to a paper towel line platter. Continue battering and frying the scapes in small batches. Serve warm.
Serve 2

Tamari Dipping Sauce

3 tablespoons rice wine vinegar
1/4 cup tamari
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1 teaspoon toasted sesame oil
1 scallion, finely chopped
few strips of julienned carrot

Mix vinegar, tamari, sugar, and sesame oil in a small jar and shake lightly or whisk until combined. Pour into serving bowl and sprinkle with scallion and carrot. Adjust flavors if necessary.

the great e-scape (project picnic.4)

Published July 5, 2011 garlic patch , pig slop , project picnic , sauces, salsas, preserves 2 Comments
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I have good news people. It’s twirly-dip season. More commonly known as garlic scape season. I adopted the twirly-dip nickname many years ago, long before I knew my garlic plant anatomy. I now know that the “scape” is really a flowering seed head. It’s the garlic’s natural way of reproducing. Each flowering pod contains a handful of “bulbils,” a fancy name for itty-bitty garlic cloves. If left to its own devices, the garlic scape matures and waits for its bulbils to be scatterd. Assuming all goes well, each bulbil matures into a small head of garlic the following year. And yes, humans can do the same thing and intentionally plant the bulbils, but it takes a good three years of planting and replanting the resulting cloves of garlic to get a decent size head. Still, that’s pretty cool.
Now, back to the botany lesson. About a month or so before the underground bulb fully matures, a garlic plant heeds the call to send up a flowering scape. It starts as a little sprout emerging from the top part of the plant. Over the course of a week or so, it begins to lengthen and curl around into a spiral. Hence the “twirly-dip” terminology. It really is a thing of beauty. Left intact, the curlycue will eventually straighten itself back out and shoot skyward. The garlic plant puts energy into developing its seed head – at the expense of the bulb below ground. Which means if large, plump heads of garlic is your goal (and you’re willing to do the work of the bulbil), then trimming the scapes off is in your best intrest. To me this is a win-win situation. My garlic heads grow larger, and I’m left with a culinary treat that is especially fun to cook with. Which is pretty much how I spent my entire holiday weekend. You have been warned. Prepare to be inundated with garlic scape recipes.
But first, let’s cover a few garlic scape practicalities:
1. If you’re harvesting scapes from your own garden, it is best to pick them when they are in full curl, between 1/2 and 3/4 turn (like in the photo above). If you pick them too young, it potentially shocks the plant and may cause secondary sprouting or formation of side cloves off the main bulb. If you wait until they start straightening out, the stalks will be tough and unappetizing. Trim or snap the scapes off just above the top leaf of the plant.
2. Scapes store well – up to 3 weeks in the crisper drawer. So if you come across a source, stock up! For those of you with your own garlic patch, consider yourself lucky. Otherwise, scapes are becoming more and more popular and can often be found this time of year at farmer’s markets and natural food stores.
3. When cooking with scapes, it is best to trim the actual seed pod off and use the section of stalk below it. In other words, you want to cook with the portion of the scape that emerges from the top of the garlic plant to where the seed pod starts to bulge out. The top part of the scape is more grass like and stringy. There is no harm in eating it, but you might find yourself doing a considerable amount of chewing. Plus, there is a much better use for them. Slow simmered with water, a splash of white wine, a few greens, and a handful of fresh herbs, they make a lovely garlic soup stock. I keep a bag going in the fridge and when scape season comes to an end I make a big pot of stock for the freezer. Full recipe forthcoming…
4. Left raw, scapes are tender and garlicky, but are less pungent than an actual clove of garlic. Finely chopped, they make a lovely addition to green salads, egg salad, tuna salad, any salad really. Think of them like a scallion. When cooked, the scapes become creamy and nutty, with just a slight hint of garlic flavor. Which makes them perfect for stir-frys, fritattas, scrambled eggs, and pasta dishes. It’s important not to overcook them though, as they tend to get tough.
My first scape harvest of the season almost always goes straight over hot coals. This is my favorite way to prepare them. Toss them with a little olive oil, fresh pepper and sea salt and lay them on the grill or fire pit. I use a finer mesh screen over the grate to save anyone from an untimely death. It takes about 8 – 10 minutes for them to soften up and get a little char. Turn them once or twice and when they look tender, transfer to a platter, give them a squeeze of lemon juice and a sprinkle of chili pepper flakes. If you’re anything like me, they will disappear faster than one would think possible. (You’ll see in the photo that I have grilled the whole scape, even though I just got through telling you to cut the top part off. I almost always follow my own advice, but still there is no denying how artistic the entire scape looks – sometimes it’s fun just to cook the whole package).
Once I get the craving for grilled scapes out of my system, I move onto other things. This year I decided to start with garlic scape pesto. Mixed with some chunky penne pasta, it was the star of our June picnic. Actually, I take that back. The real star of the picnic was a thunderstorm, complete with green skies, quarter size hail, and straight line winds. Mark and I had decided to take an “extended picnic” and turn it into an overnight camping excursion. We packed our picnic tin, loaded the kayaks on the roof, threw in a blanket and some books, and headed for Lake Superior’s Bark Bay. We managed to score a tent camping site on the Herbster beach and geared up for a much needed day of play.
Well fortified with pasta bathed in twirly-dip pesto, we ventured out for a late afternoon paddle on the lake. Sunny skies, slight breeze, calm waters. All good. Back on land we had just settled in with gin and tonics (car camping has its merits) when we noticed some ominous clouds gathering off to the southwest. Sure enough a few minutes later the county sheriff was easing his way though the camp ground alerting campers of a severe weather system on it’s way from Superior. We packed things up as best we could and headed for the tent, fully expecting to resume our evening after the storm blew through.
But there was the problem. The storm didn’t exactly “blow through.” The traveling warm air mass hit the cool wall of Lake Superior and stopped – for a good long while. We laid in the tent, watching the sky outside do amazing things, occasionally exchanging a silent worried look, and listening to the sound of hail ricocheting off of our poor little picnic tin. I didn’t have high hopes.
Hours later we emerged from our abode (which was still standing and still mostly dry inside) to assess the situation. It was dark now and still raining, but the brunt of the storm had finally passed. Lake Superior was positively roaring. We learned that the majority of tenters had been evacuated to the local high school for the night. We also heard rumors of another cell coming through at 4:30 a.m. Hmmm. This news prompted us to do something we have never done before while camping. We decided to plan our escape. Mark went for the car while I packed up the sleeping gear. We rolled up the tent into a sopping heap, threw it in the back of the car and drove the 30 minutes back home. I was stunned to find the picnic tote still dry inside. We had a late night snack and retreated to the quietness of our bedroom.
We awoke to sunny skies, refreshed and ready to resume. With a thermos of coffee for the road we made the return trip back to our boats and other belongings. As we suspected, the bay was a churning chocolate brown soup and the campground was littered with upside down tents drying out (some considerably more worse for the wear than others). After a hearty breakfast we headed out for a paddle through the Bark Bay Slough – a costal barrier spit and lagoon that feeds into Lake Superior. Water lilies were blooming, dragon and butterflies were out joy riding, and we enjoyed several fine turtle sightings as we paddled our way back towards land. What a way to ring in the season’s first twirly-dips!
I should warn you that this pesto is indeed garlicky. To me though, it strong and flavorful without an overbearing garlic heat. I love to eat it straight on salty pita crackers or bread. It also works well to cut it with créme fraîche, yogurt, and/or sour cream and use it as a vegetable dip or pasta sauce. And, like most pestos, it freezes well for an excellent winter treat – or pull it out even sooner and pair it with fresh summer tomatoes. I adapted this recipe from one I found in the Washington Post several years ago. I find it works best to use a food processor to really grind up the scapes and nuts. But if you’ve got determination, you could do it by hand with a mortar and pestle.
Stay tuned. Recipes for pickled dilly scapes, beer-battered scapes (oh-my!), and garlic soup stock are on their way later this week.
Garlic Scape (twirly-dip) Pesto

1/2 cup garlic scapes, chopped, flower portion removed (about 10 scapes)
1/3 cup almonds or walnuts
1 teaspoon lemon zest
squeeze of fresh lemon juice
1/3 – 1/2 cup olive oil (I use more oil if the pesto is going over pasta)
1/2 cup grated Parmesan
large pinch of sea salt

Process the scapes, nuts, lemon zest and juice in a food processor until they are somewhat smooth and the texture is to your liking. Slowly drizzle in the olive oil, pulsing the machine as you go. Use a spatula to scrape down the sides and fold in the Parmesan and salt by hand. Taste and adjust seasoning as needed. Makes about 1 cup.

exploding happiness

Published June 29, 2011 pig slop , sweets 3 Comments
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My college roommate Jennifer worked her way through school with a part time job at a balloon shop. She spent her Saturday afternoons blowing up and delivering wild helium filled bouquets. Jenn often returned from work and adorned the apartment with colorful, stray stragglers. It was generally a very happy place. It didn’t happen too often, but every once and a while, if there was a big mix-up on an order, she’d arrive home with a whole carload of balloons. I loved the occasional big mix-ups. We had a big mix-up routine.

We’d toss our rollerblades in the trunk, drive the few miles over to St. Paul’s Como Lake, and get to work. Dividing the bunch in half, we’d set out in opposite directions around the lake path to bestow our wares on random strangers. People loved it. Everyone smiled. Couples, little kids, adults – even surly teens. We’d meet up again in the middle, empty handed, and skate back to the car. Sure, it was fun handing them out, but the best part came when we turned back to see all those colorful balloons bobbing their way around the lake. Mission accomplished.
I am proud to report that Jennifer now wears latex on her hands instead of filling it with helium. She is a successful dentist in Anchorage, Alaska. Yup, those balloons saw her all the way through dental school. Sadly, we haven’t seen each other since my wedding, but I still think of her fondly. Especially when I have something really happy to share with the world. Which happened to be the case the other day. I wanted to make a simple treat. Nothing complicated, nothing too heavy or too sweet. You know, just a little smackerel of something for tea time. I should note that it actually got warm enough this week to brew a jar sun tea. I wanted to celebrate with the perfect accompaniment.
I decided to try making some sort of honey bar. And the result was everything I was looking for. They are light and custardy and subtle. There is nothing fancy about them. They aren’t even particularly memorable. But when I bite into one, I feel good. Like a little bit of happiness just exploded in my mouth. And then it’s gone – almost as quietly as it came. But sometimes that’s okay with sweets. I imagine this is the sort of bar you could hand out to just about anyone and they would like it. You don’t have to worry about people who don’t care for nuts, or lemon, or berries, or chocolate (people like that don’t really exist, do they?). My rollerblades and I parted company many moves ago, but If I still had them, I might even set off around the Bayfield peninsula with a pan of honey bars in tow to test my theory.
I’m not sure exactly what occurred during the baking process, but it is almost like the crust and the filling traded places. Still it works. And the bars are just firm enough that you can pick them up and eat them with your hand. Next time I might even double the crust and push it further up the sides of the pan.
Happy Honey Bars

The crust:
1 cup flour
3 tablespoons sugar
pinch of salt
pinch of fresh nutmeg
6 tablespoons butter, cold and cubed
spoonful of ice water

The filling:
1/2 cup honey
3 tablespoons butter
4 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
pinch of salt
pinch of fresh nutmeg
1 cup milk

Crust: Preheat oven to 350º F. Combine the flour, sugar, salt, and nutmeg in a medium mixing bowl. Cut in the butter cubes, mixing until it is fully incorporated. Sprinkle in a small splash of ice water to the dough and mix again. Press the mixture into an 8×8 nonstick pan. Bake for 15-20 minutes until crust is lightly browned. Remove from oven and let cool. Turn the oven up to 400ºF.

Filling: While crust bakes, warm the honey and butter in a small sauce pan until it is warm and liquid. Transfer to a mixing bowl – I recommend reusing the crust bowl. Whisk in the eggs, vanilla, salt and nutmeg. Wipe out the sauce pan and slowly bring the milk to the point where it just almost bubbles. Remove from heat and slowly whisk the warm milk into the honey-egg mixture. When everything is well incorporated, pour the mixture over the pre-baked crust and bake in a 400º F for 25 – 30 minutes until set. Let bars cool before slicing.

the spinach chronicles

Published June 24, 2011 cereals, grains & pastas , garden fare , pig slop 2 Comments
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Evidentially, a large portion of this country has been busy breaking all sorts of heat records for June. National Weather Service meteorologist Jim Keeney reported in the New York Times two weeks ago that much of the U.S. is experiencing conditions that we normally don’t have until August. “The heat has been pushed north all the way into Wisconsin, and in the North especially, we are seeing temperatures 15 to 20 degrees above normal,” said Keeney.
Allow me to set the record straight. I can assure you that this “brutal heat wave” has not, in any way, shape or form, found it’s way past the Mason-Bibon line on into Northern Wisconsin. The south shore of Lake Superior has been officially chilly, wet, and grey for pretty much the last three weeks. I think there might have been a day in early June when the thermometer pegged at 66ºF, but it was so short lived, it’s hard to recall. The sun is out today, but we’re still hovering in the upper 50’s.
My peony bush has been poised and ready to bloom since the end of May, but it simply refuses budge in this weather. I go out and look at it every morning. And every morning, it looks the same. I can pretty much hear it. “No! I won’t!” I guess I don’t blame it. I haven’t exactly been frolicking around outside either. My first summer beach read of the season was devoured under the weight of two down comforters.
I can guarantee you that my sweet corn will nowhere near be knee high by the Fourth of July. Even the snap peas, who prefer it nice and cool, look miserable. They are slowly inching their way up the trellis – more out of duty than anything. Don’t even ask about the peppers. They are stuck in a wallow of self-pity. Really, the only thing in the garden that seems genuinely pleased with the current state of affairs is the spinach. But hey, I’ll take it. It’s been a cold, misserable, rainy June. At least I’ve got spinach to show for it.
My routine of late involves slogging out to the garden during breaks in the rain to keep the spinach picked and give the rest of the garden a rousing pep talk. I came in the other day with a big basket of fresh spinach, mixed with a few handfuls of tender little lamb’s quarter leaves, thinking that a steamy pan of lasagna would do nicely to take the chill off. Only I wasn’t sure if I had the energy to construct it. I like lasagna, but to be honest, I find it a bit exhausting. Generally by the time I am done, I have dirtied just about every dish in the house, the kitchen is a mess, and I barely have the strength left to eat. Still, my taste buds were having trouble pushing the notion of fresh spinach lasagna out of my mind. I quickly ran through the process in my head, searching for ways to simplify. No boil noodles, jarred pasta sauce, layer the veggies in raw, skip the Béchamel sauce. I rallied. Let the spring spinach chronicles continue.
In the end though, I caved on several of my proposed simplification techniques. The mushrooms went in raw, but I did end wilting the spinach just slightly. It cost me another pan, but when I looked over a the heaping mound of raw spinach I was concerned it would be too bulky and unruly to layer into the pan. I could have opened a jar of pasta sauce, but I had some canned plum tomatoes too. I knew I couldn’t beat a simple sauce made with olive oil and fresh green garlic. Damn. Another pan. And how could I not use a white sauce with crimini mushrooms and all that fresh spinach? It would be a crime. What’s one more pan? But by golly, I held my ground with the no-boil noodles. One pot and one colander, saved!
The recipe looks long, but it’s really not so bad – especially considering that you end up with enough food to last you through the week, or to invite a few friends over at the last minute – which is what we did. I promise that it’s worth the couple of extra pots and pans (this coming from a woman who does not have running water). And it’s a perfect celebratory, feel-good kind of meal. Tuck it in your back pocket for a cool summer’s night dinner on the porch, or for fall – if you happen to be lucky enough to live somewhere that actually gets warm, or dare I even imagine…HOT.
Fresh Spinach & Mushroom Lasangna

12 ounces no-boil lasanga noodles (or enough to cover 3 layers in your pan)

The Red Sauce:
1/3 cup olive oil
1 – 2 stalks green garlic, chopped (or 4-5 cloves garlic)
3 teaspoons red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon salt
1 28 ounce can diced, fire roasted tomatoes
1 28 ounce can plum tomatoes, roughly chopped

Warm the olive oil in a sauce pan and and add the garlic, red pepper, and salt. Saute briefly until the garlic is just tender, but not brown. Add the tomatoes, juice and all and gently simmer for about 20-30 minutes until the sauce thickens up to your liking. Adjust the seasoning as necessary.

The Veggies:
10 ounces fresh mushrooms, sliced
14 ounces fresh spinach, washed and coarsely chopped (I used 12 ounces of spinach and 2 ounces of lamb’s quarter)

Lightly steam the spinach to wilt it – just for a minute or two. Or if you are feeling bold, you can try layering it in raw (let me know how it goes!)

The Ricotta:
2 eggs, lightly beaten
15 – 16 ounces ricotta cheese
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1 bunch fresh chives, chopped

Combine all in a bowl and mix well.

The Cheese:
2 cups grated mozzarella
2 cups grated monterey jack

Combine together in a bowl.

The Béchamel Sauce:
2 tablespoons butter
2 tablespoons flour
1 – 1 1/2 cups milk
Salt, pepper, and nutmeg to taste

Melt the butter in a small heavy saucepan. Slowly stir in the flour, mixing with a fork or whisk. Keep stirring for 1 -2 minutes until the mixture just starts to brown and smells fragrant. Keeping stirring as you add the milk. Cook over medium heat, stirring often until the mixture thickens up, about 5 to 10 minuets. Remove from heat and season with salt, pepper, and a dash of fresh nutmeg.

Layer Up:
Pour a thin layer of the red sauce in the bottom of your baking dish. Follow with a layer of noodles, 1/3 of the ricotta mixture, 1/3 of the spinach, 1/3 of the mushrooms, 1/3 of the white sauce, and 1/3 of the grated cheese. Repeat the process to make 3 layers, ending with the grated cheese.

Bake in a 350ºF oven for about 40 minutes until the cheese is bubbly and slightly browned. Remove from oven and sprinkle with 1/2 cup fresh grated Parmesan cheese. Let stand 10 – 15 minutes before slicing.

enticing bears

Published June 16, 2011 garden fare , pig slop 1 Comment
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I was laying in bed the other morning debating the merits of getting up versus staying hunkered in for a few more minutes when I heard an unmistakable noise outside the front windows. It was the sound of “someone” getting into “something.” Debate over. I got up to investigate with Hoops the cat in tow and discovered a mama bear with two cubs rooting around our little shed. Mom was standing up on hind legs helping herself to the remains of an autumnal display window box that I hadn’t got around to cleaning out yet. The kids were busy sticking their noses into buckets and knocking over flower pots. The whole trio was adorably cute.

Hoops has seen his fair share of bears and there is a reason why he has lived to see 14 years. He retreated immediately and waited uncharacteristically patiently for breakfast to be served. Meanwhile, I fumbled with my camera, forgetting that it was set on full manual mode. Needless to say, most of my shots were as foggy as my morning brain. Photos or not, I decided watching the bears’ shenanigans was a delightful way to wake up and start the day. But when mom stood up tall to knock out a glass block window and junior started swinging from the window box, my husband Mark decided it was time to bust up the fun. He shooed them away. Mom ran off but the kids followed their instincts and went straight for the nearest tree. Eventually they shimmied down to chase after mom.

Coffee in hand and brain fully awake I headed out for a tour of the estate. I had foolishly left some bee equipment in the yard – most of which is now punctured with cute little claw and teeth marks. The bird bath was upturned and one of the pond plants had been uprooted. The goldfish looked nervous. I laughed. Basically, the yard and garden looked like the aftermath of a big ol’ party. A black bear party. It looked like a good time. I wish I could have attended.

All in all, they were fairly well behaved guests. Sure, they chewed on a few dried up old gourds, sampled some flowers, and had a taste of what I can only imagine is divine smelling bee equipment. But the important thing is this: they didn’t touch the spinach. All three rows were upright and perky upon inspection. Which is good. Because I had designs on making my favorite spring spinach pie for dinner. The dill appeared to be in good shape too. Another point for the bears. I’m not saying I want our yard to become the new party shack or anything, but at least they had the sense not to mess with the spinach. I’ll give them that much.

Oh but if those bears only knew the potential that spinach holds. Combine it with some fresh dill, a handful of feta, a few eggs, a splash of milk, and turn it into a pie shell. Now there’s a party. With tender spring spinach and fresh dill, the flavors of this pie truly come alive. It has become one of those dishes that I look forward to making each spring. When the dill is big enough to safely pillage I know its time.

The recipe is adapted from Fresh Market Wisconsin by Terese Allen – a sweet little paperback cookbook that highlights Wisconsin’s best. Market growers and producers from around the state showcase their favorite ways to cook with fresh produce, fruits, berries, honey, maple syrup, wild rice, fish, meat and dairy. There are some real gems in it. And if there were ever a cookbook meant for a bear, I’m pretty sure this would be the one. I know it’s where I’d turn if I ever wanted to entice anybody back for another friendly backyard shindig. But, sorry bears. I promised Hoops I wouldn’t.

Spinach Feta Pie 

1 medium chopped onion, preferably a spring one
1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
10 ounces spring spinach, washed and chopped
6 ounces feta, crumbled
3 eggs
1 cup milk
2 healthy tablespoons fresh dill, chopped
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 cup fresh grated parmesan cheese
1 9-inch pie shell, unbaked *

Heat butter or oil in a large skillet and saute the onion over medium heat until soft and translucent.  Raise the heat to high and add the spinach. Toss and cook until the spinach has just wilted, about 5 minutes. Turn of heat and let the spinach cool for another 5 minutes. Sprinkle feta over spinach.
In a large bowl, whisk the eggs, milk, dill, salt and pepper together. Fold the spinach and feta into the egg mixture.
Line a 9 inch pie tin with the crust and sprinkle the Parmesan cheese over the bottom of it. Pour the filling into the crust. bake in a 350º oven for about 45-50 minutes until the center is just set. Do not over bake.
* A note on the pie shell: after trying many recipes and methods, I have finally settled on Alice Waters’ pie dough in The Art of Simple Food as my standby. It is easy, straightforward, and has yet to let me down. But a frozen store bought shell would work just as well.

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