Category Archives: Cooking

Nocturne

Lughnasa                                                                          College Moon

It has been a full week so far and we’re only to Thursday. The front porch looks so good, painted and new cedar flooring, steps. New windows on the shed and it gets painted, too, probably tomorrow. (note. these were done by our handyman, Dave Scott.) The firepit’s repaired. The bookshelves are empty. The Rav4 had it’s oil changed and tires rotated. Learned that it will not tow much at all, 1,500 pounds, so that’s not gonna work for the live stock trailer. Picked raspberries and tomatoes. Made chicken noodle soup. Worked out a couple of times. Translated several lines of De Bello Gallico. And all this while retaining my status as a retired person.

Glad it’s quiet. Silent night. Silence is holy in my world, so holy night, too.

A Small Thing

Lughnasa                                                                               College Moon

Kate’s got some kind of malady that made her want my chicken noodle soup. It’s my signature dish. And the recipe is an old family recipe, maybe. The soup recipe is on the Golden Plump chicken label.

Making it is a small thing. Cut onions (ours) one cup. Cut carrots (ours) one cup. Put in a full clove of garlic cut and smashed (ours). This last is my addition. A cup of celery. Some olive oil. Sautee for five minutes. Then add the chicken and the corn (frozen). Bring to a boil, reduce to simmer and cook for one and a half hours. Remove chicken. Remove skin. Cut chicken meat into small pieces and restore it to the pot with the egg noodles and peas (frozen). Boil for ten minutes. Freezes well and since there are ten cups of water, makes a bunch.

Growing the onions and the carrots and the garlic is a small thing, too. These sort of small things are our lives. Yes, there are the grand gestures: winning an election, bringing home a fat paycheck, building a business, designing a house, getting a degree. Yes, there are these. But without the small things, done by someone, there is no body, no energy, no health for the grand gesture. And the small things must be done every single day while the grand gestures occur only occasionally.

So this is a nod to the small things that make our lives.

Three Score and Ten. And jazz.

Lughnasa                                                                   Lughnasa Moon

We celebrated Kate’s 70th tonight, 8 days ahead of her August 18th birthday. Down Bob Dylan’s Highway 61 is a town called Hastings with a new bridge over the Mississippi, two graceful arches painted orange and lit at night. Across the bridge and beyond Hastings is the Alexis Bailly vineyard, founded in 1973 by a Twin Cities’ attorney.

Tonight, as it has done for four years now, KBEM joined with Nan Bailly, daughter of Alexis, to sponsor an evening of jazz and locally sourced food. Nan’s vineyards are green, healthy appearing and the building her father built (picture below) houses a small store and a wine bar.

Behind the building is an area with carved boulder seats, contemporary metal sculpture scattered among native prairie and a spot where KBEM put up a large white tent and several long tables.

The chef for the event, Stan Patalonis, put together a Latin menu with beginners that featured Spanish flavors then moved onto Latin America. The food was good, the wine plentiful and the jazz mellow. A suite of clouds gave us a cooler evening, just right in the mid-70’s, and the rain held off until the meal was done.

Kate enjoyed the wine and her birthday celebration. We drove home along the river, then up 280 and 35E and 10 to Round Lake Boulevard. 70 is a landmark birthday and so was this evening.

Headline I Never Thought I’d See. Wonder if they were made by 4-H’ers?

Lughnasa                                                                    Lughnasa Moon

a headline I never thought I’d see, in the Denver Post: handmade bongs and marijuana laced brownies. Colorado here we come.

Blue-ribbon weed: Denver County Fair pot showcase kicks off

“DENVER — Marijuana joined roses and dahlias Friday in blue ribbon events at the nation’s first county fair to allow pot competitions.

Edible products did require tasting. A secret panel of judges sampled brownies and other treats earlier this month at an undisclosed location.

“At first the judges were eating them all, but by the end they were really feeling it, so they just tasted them and spit them out,” Cain said with a laugh. “We offered them cabs home.”



The winning brownie was made with walnuts and dark chocolate. Top prize was $20 and a blue ribbon…

“For the handmade bong contest, three industry insiders judged 17 entries for craftsmanship, creativity — and functionality.

“It has to be something special, something you’d want to use,” said judge Robert Folse, who works at a pot dispensary as a “budtender,” sort of a sommelier for marijuana.”

Matters Thorny

Summer                                                              New (Lughnasa) Moon

croppedIMAG0360Kate destemmed and clipped the wispy end off all the gooseberries I picked. Gooseberries are just this side of not being worth the effort. She put them in a bowl with our blueberries, mixed them and made tarts. Tasty. We also had green beans and carrots tonight, one day out of the garden. With fish.

The Latin I reviewed over the last couple of days continues to come more easily. Incremental jumps, consolidation of past learning and, by now, long practice have combined to push me forward. Kate reminded me (I’d forgotten.) that I started on this because I doubted I could learn a foreign language. But, I wanted to try.

I’ve felt for many years the same way about calculus and step by slow step I’m learning pre-calculus through the Khan Academy. Somewhere back in my education, maybe junior high or so, I got into the habit of racing through exams, wanting to finish well ahead of everybody else and have the rest of the time to myself. As I work on these math problems, I find that same self-pressure, a hurry-up attitude has not left me. It gets in my way. I make bone head mistakes, having to take more time going back over what I’ve done. So, I’m slowing down. Making sure.

Why am I doing this? I enjoy challenging myself, pushing myself into strange places, foreign lands. Latin was a foreign country four years ago, though I’m now a resident alien. Calculus continues to be a faraway land, but I’ve found a path and I’m on it. These are different ways of looking at the world, different perspectives. With Latin I’m going deep into an ancient culture and the deeper I go the more mysterious it becomes. I imagine calculus will prove the same.

I Sprayed In The Garden Alone

Summer                                                              Most Heat Moon

As the Most Heat Moon gives way to the Lughnasa Moon, gardening takes more time. Today I picked gooseberries, a thorny fruit, willing to rip and tear any who venture near. Got enough for a full basket and didn’t end up wounded.

This was also a spray morning. One goes on the plants throwing out seeds in various fleshy carriers like tomatoes, egg plants, cucumbers, beans, peppers, as well as those concentrating on root growth like onions, garlic, carrots and beets. The other is for those plants spreading their leaves like chard and collard greens, various herbs.

Today was also a drench day, a concentrated solution that goes on the soil, not on the plant, and raises the level of molecular interactions in the soil that create plant growth. Drenching is a bit messy since I’m using an old Miraclegro feeder that has seen far better days. It leaks and sprays, soaking my shoes and pants. Time for a new one.

Kate has the pressure cooker out, shades of the 1950’s, having discovered that low acid vegetables like beets and carrots require the higher 240 degrees a pressure cooker can reach.

Forgot to mention that my energy level has returned to normal, perhaps normal plus a bit, after the long two weeks with guests, then Kate gone, then more guests. I’m glad because it restored my sense that I can care for a garden, a vegetable garden, about the size of ours, especially if that’s the primary outdoor work I have to do. That and the bees.

Cooking

Summer                                                             Most Heat Moon

Picked up Chez Panisse on vegetables, one of my favorite cookbooks, right up there with beets chard 7 6 12R600Joy of Cooking and How the World Cooks Chicken. When I called Kate this morning, she was at Mt. Rushmore with Jon and Ruth. I only had one question. What do I do with the beets after I clean them? Oh. You don’t take the tops off first? Too late for that. Boil them for 15 minutes then slip them out of their skins? OK. I can do that. Go back to Borglum.

Cooking is something I really enjoy, but I’ve avoided it for a couple of years now. Kate’s home and my need to cook has diminished since she’s enjoyed getting back in the kitchen after a long absence from regular cooking. I don’t cook like Kate does. She’s a recipe gal and a damned good one. Just ask the Woollies who said her meal a couple of years ago was the best they’d had at a Woolly meeting.

Me, I’m a let’s look at the ingredients and see what we might make kind of cook. A bit more, no, a lot more, free form. That means I make wonderful surprises and the occasional ghastly surprise. I’ve gotten better over the years so the ratio has widened in favor of wonderful over ghastly, but I’ve not eliminated them.

So I’m trying to recreate the beet salads I like so much when I go out. First step, roast the beets. 400 degrees covered with foil. Large baking dish. But, again, I’m starting out behind because I’ve already boiled and peeled the beets. After removing their tops to begin with. I’m not expecting it to turn out perfect, there are a lot more beets where those came from. But it should be interesting over the next couple of days to see what I can produce from roasted, pre-boiled and prematurely topped beets.

Beets, Carrots, Green Beans and Lamb

Summer                                                      Most Heat Moon

Spent the morning first spraying, then in the garden weeding the vegetable beds and harvesting beets and carrots. After the first beet crop was out of the ground, I planted the third. The second is already growing in another bed and between open spaces created by earlier harvests.

The beets and the carrots all go into the hod, a metal mesh with two wooden ends and a curved wooden handle for carrying. The wire mesh is useful with roots crops because it allows the hose to get all sides, including the underside of just picked vegetables.

Inside I prepped the beets, boiled them, skinned them and they now await some other action, one I’ve not chosen. Or, perhaps more than one.

A few of the carrots and a handful of green beans, picked this morning, too, got heated up and eaten with the remaining lamb from the rack of lamb we had the last night Ruth and Jon were here. These were from last November when I got a good deal on a Byerly’s order, brought to me since I had no vehicle. I had rack of lamb for Thanksgiving while Kate had Thanksgivukkah with the Denver Olsons.

 

A Rare Dining Experience

Spring                                              Hare Moon

I may have inadvertently added to the selection of Korean dishes available in Tucson.  At Takamatsu’s, a Korean-Japanese restaurant, I went in hoping for a raw beef Korean dish that is served with sesame oil over daikon with an egg yolk in the top.   The name wouldn’t come to me and I asked the waitress, a local Tucson white girl, who shook her head.  Nope, nothing like on that menu.

So, I asked her about sashimi, since I couldn’t find it on the menu either.  Yes, she said.  Right there.  It was on a long paper menu to be filled out at the table.  I checked the 10 piece sashimi dinner and waited for her return.

Instead, the owner came out.  A Korean, I think, (might have been Japanese), he said, “You’re talking about and he used a name that didn’t sound familiar to me.  Like steak tartar, in a mound with an egg yolk on top?”  That was it. “Well,” he said, “We don’t have much of a Korean community so we took off the menu 17 years ago.”  Oh, well.  I understood.  Thanks.

He went away.  Then, he came back.  “My chef says she can make it for you.  She’s the same chef we’ve had for 18 years.  She’ll take frozen rib-eye and slice it up.”  I smiled, “That sounds great.”

After my waitress brought me the usual Korean side dishes of kimchee, bean sprouts, spinace, pickled radish and thin sliced potatoes, she filled my tea pot.

She left and came back with a beautiful mound of raw beef, an egg yolk in the top, all sprinkled with sesame oil and seeds.  But on thinly sliced apple.

It was delicious.  Best I’ve ever had.

The owner came back after I’d finished. “The chef says maybe we’ll put it back on the specials menu.”  I tipped the chef.