#22: Cooking

By then, I’d come to realize that no one was ever going to put my recipes into a book, so I’d have to do it myself…. A food writer who wrote about the book carped that the recipes were not particularly original, but it seemed to me she missed the point. The point wasn’t about the recipes. The point (I was starting to realize) was about putting it together. The point was about making people feel at home, about finding your own style, whatever it was, and committing to it. The point was about giving up neurosis where food was concerned. The point was about finding a way that food fit into your life. (28-29) I Feel Bad About My Neck by Nora Ephron

I have been thinking about how work can fluctuate between drudgery and delight or stress and satisfaction or mindlessness and meaningful engagement. I don't know of a single job that doesn't come with demands we don't like. I believe the goal is to find the core of the work to be satisfying and rewarding. Often, we also have to struggle through some rough spots to get to a better place and focus on the core. Or, we need to work our way up the ladder to gain the experience and expertise to allow us to do the work we desire. If I can't get to a better place or see a better place in the future, I know that I am doing the wrong kind of work. I need to make a change, if possible now, or plan for a change with a long-term goal in mind.

I find this to be equally true in work on the home front as in professional work. Lately, my writing has brought me unbelievable satisfaction. Actually, I would have to say joy. Successfully, pulling together a post where I say what is truest to myself that day in the most articulate words I can muster within the structural parameters of an essay makes me incredibly happy. I can honestly say that my ability to do so comes from years of practice that taught me how to find my voice, develop the skill and artistry, and build confidence in myself. Now, instead of trying to control my writing, I try to control the context and give myself space, knowing the words will come. Some days are much harder than others and some posts are far better than others. Yet, I have learned to set ideals of perfection aside, put my head down in good faith, and write on.

I find the same is true for me in cooking. Sometimes, I simply can't think of anything I want to cook and need a break from preparing meals for a week or two. Then, food at my house tends toward the most basic like simple grilled cheese sandwiches. Or, we eat plenty of takeout. Or, I find myself scavenging through the prepared and frozen food aisles of the grocery store, looking for something, anything that might fit the bill and not kill us. However, I have cooked enough, just as I have written enough, to know that if I maintain a well-stocked larder, I can pull together a healthy meal from scratch and enjoy cooking, too. I have learned that the more chopping involved, the more vegetables and fruits I prep, the more likely the product is healthy and flavorful. I am in the camp with Nora Ephron: I have found my food style and am committed to it.

Still, cooking is hard work as memories from my childhood remind me. My Midwestern roots are German, and my family tree includes numerous cooks and gardeners (and even earlier, farmers). These are women, who often cooked three meals a day from scratch and fed a house full of hungry mouths, because families were often larger than today. Whoever showed up at mealtime was offered a seat at the table. Your designation as extended family member, old friend, or new acquaintance mattered little. However, a good appetite was of the utmost importance. Food was served in abundance, and eating ample portions of just about everything was expected. I hold this principle of hosting a welcoming table full of good food as a mantra dear to my heart.

I can remember my aunts making cheese, baking bread, preparing sausage, decorating tortes, and preserving everything from sauerkraut to dill pickles to gooseberry jam, usually without a recipe. I remember how they planted asparagus crowns in their gardens and harvested the vegetable two years later to make the most delicious cream of asparagus soup. And, given their immigrant roots, nothing was ever wasted. Food was not to be taken for granted. It was to be fully enjoyed but respected. These women practiced culinary skills which were practical from the most simple of foods to the most sublime of flavors. These women worked hard and certainly could not have enjoyed it much of the time. Yet, these women inspired me and nurtured an appreciation for the well-cooked meal that took me time to understand, years to master, and experimentation to personally define.

As in writing, I try to set the neuroses aside. I try hard not to be a control freak (and my daughters will likely note that I have a long way to go on that front!) or aim for perfection and simply cook with health, flavor and variety in mind. I am a cook, a hard working cook in my own home like the women before me, not a chef or Martha Stewart wannabe. As a result, I continue to enjoy cooking, finding the work satisfying and the experimentation rewarding. I am also putting my most trusted recipes together to give voice to those who came before me, to express my food culture, and to compile a food narrative for my daughters, who may or may not enjoy the work of cooking but may appreciate the memories that lie strewn among the recipes. 

To read more about how cooking empowers me, see my food blog Gatherings and The Culpable Cook at www.theculpablecook.com, or how cooking empowers others see this perspective. 

Cook

Jane Hirshfield

Each night you come home with five continents on your hands:
garlic, olive oil, saffron, anise, coriander, tea,
your fingernails blackened with a marjoram and thyme.
Sometimes the zucchini's flesh seems like a fish-steak,
cut into neat filets, or the salt-rubbed eggplant
yields not bitter water, but dark mystery.
You cut everything into bits.
No core, no kernel, no seed is scared: you cut
onions for hours and do not cry,
cut them to thin transparencies, the red ones
spreading before you like fallen flowers;
you cut scallions from white to green, you cut
radishes, apples, broccoli, you cut oranges, watercress,
romaine, you cut your fingers, you cut and cut
beyond the heart of things, where
nothing remains, and you cut that too, scoring coup
on the butcherblock, leaving your mark,
when you go
your feet are as pounded as brioche dough. 

Shift

The slow shift into spring began yesterday, foreshadowed by a mild migraine earlier. We pushed the clocks forward one hour, and somehow the sun sprang out and temperatures climbed above freezing. In fact, the next ten days forecast temperature at or above 40 degrees Fahrenheit. Snow is melting, the earth is thawing, and all living things are waking, breathing, multiplying.

Immediately, the outdoors tugged at me. A daily walk is sure to become a part of my routine. The woodpeckers are pecking, the skunks are spraying, and the birds are singing. As I rounded the corner today, a nuthatch and a chickadee fought over a prime piece of real estate, a large hole in a sturdy branch far above the electrical lines. I stopped to stare at the ruckus reminded that we will all be kicking it into high gear soon. Spring cleaning, spring planting, spring projects, spring plans for nests and beds and homes of all sorts.

How can it be that I always fail to remember the magic of spring? I doubt its coming and forget to take comfort in the bliss to follow a rough winter. Although the season's arrival is marked on the calendar and returns like a very old friend, the feeling it evokes is always brand new and intense like a first love which at my age doesn't seem like such a bad thing.

With the shift at hand, I did return to an old standby last week in the kitchen, too. I thought I would share my recipe for pot roast, which I had forgotten to make all winter duly noted in the way the entire family gobbled it down to great satisfaction for dinner. My recipe for pot roasts rests on three necessities which remain my old standbys:

• a large, seasoned Dutch oven that has seen plenty of use, 
• a bottle of good, aged red wine. and 
• four sprigs of rosemary from the rosemary plant now four years old in the massive stone pot that shuffles between the front porch in the summer and the guest bedroom window with southern exposure in the winter.

Good food can be so simple. I rely on a leaner top round roast. When roasted at low temperatures, it comes out of the oven very tender and the savory juices enhanced by the red wine retain less fat, making them delicious for pouring over the meat or mashing into the potatoes. Of course, a chuck roast is the more economical and traditional option here.

Red Wine Pot Roast

2 tablespoons olive oil
4 small onions, trimmed and peeled
4 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into large pieces
2 cloves garlic, trimmed and peeled
1 pound carrots (trimmed, peeled, and cut into large pieces)
1 whole (3 or 5 pound) top round roast
Sea salt and ground black pepper
1 or 2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 cup red wine
2 cups (3 pound roast) or 3 cups (5 pound roast) beef stock
4 sprigs rosemary

1. Heat olive oil in a large Dutch oven over medium-high heat until hot but not smoking. Add whole onions, browning them on both ends. Remove and set aside.
2. Add potatoes, garlic, and carrots and brown lightly for 1 to 2 minutes. Remove and set aside along with the onions.
3. Generously season roast with sea salt and ground black pepper. Add butter to the pan and sear roast in the pan, 1 to 2 minutes on each side, until well browned all over. Remove and set aside.
4. Add red wine to the pan to deglaze, scraping up all the browned bits remaining on the bottom with a whisk.
5. Return roast to the pan and surround with browned vegetables. Add beef stock and top with rosemary.
6. Cover and roast at 275°F for 3 hours with a 3-pound roast or 4 hours with a 5-pound roast.

Yield: 4 to 8 servings

Dispatch

"I am going to learn to make bread to-morrow. So you may imagine me with my sleeves rolled up, mixing flour, milk, salaratus, etc., with a great deal of grace. I advise you if you don’t know how to make the staff of life to learn with dispatch.”  - Emily Dickinson to Abiah Root, September 25, 1845

Without a doubt, weather is the hottest topic of conversation around here as our deep freeze continues. I heard the other day that 86% of the Great Lakes are frozen which seems to provide the justification for all the grumblings heard all around. I was also told that the black bears have begun to wake from hibernation. And, I can hear the songbirds beginning to find their voices to reinforce for us Emily Dickinson's poem: 'Hope' is the thing of feathers -- 

On March 1, I want to send a hopeful dispatch from the Finger Lakes. Perhaps, we can all follow Emily Dickinson's example and learn to bake some bread or learn anything new or just turn on the oven and bake something sweet or savory from an old, reliable recipe or one mouthwateringly new. I just know that the act of turning on the oven, feeling the heat radiate into the kitchen, and anticipating something delicious emerging from its bowels from my own hands tends to send my spirits soaring.

As such, let me share a simple meal  you can prepare with the same positive outcome for yourself and your appetite. It is almost foolproof and flexible enough to adapt to any palate as well as what you might find in your refrigerator in contrast to what I might stock in mine. Eggs, now redeemed as an excellent source of protein, remain a favorite in my house in almost any form. Here eggs are baked with greens -- so very healthy and satisfying. Quickly prepared and baked, they pop out of the oven to comfort, nourish, and eat atop crusty bread while sitting in front of a favorite movie, loved ones nearby and red wine in hand. Suddenly, life never seemed so sunny, the dispatch never so well received. Enjoy!

Baked Eggs on a Bed of Sauteed Greens

Heat two tablespoons of olive oil in a large iron skillet. Add 1 cup chopped red onion and caramelize for 15 minutes until golden brown. Add two cups packed chopped greens and saute until wilted. (I am partial to Swiss chard, but you could use kale or spinach just as well.) Season to taste with sea salt, freshly ground black pepper, and your favorite herb or spice. Remove from heat. Break 4 or 5 eggs on top of sauteed greens. Bake at 350° F for 10 minutes until eggs begin to set. Remove from oven and preheat broiler. Sprinkle with goat's cheese or a favorite freshly grated cheese like Gruyère or aged Gouda. Place skillet under broiler until cheese is bubbling. Serve immediately with crusty bread.

Yield: 2 servings

*Inspired by a recipe in Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights by Sophie Dahl

Legacy

Lately, I have been thinking about my legacy. What has been passed down to me by my parents' extended families that I may want to cherish or, conversely, want to let go? Specifically, I am thinking about those things that reside in my core and make me who I am, what things I hold onto dearly that might inspire me or might hold me back, and the sources of values and passions which might direct my future choices and possibly the future of my girls, too.

Without getting too deep or going too far today, A Measured Word certainly hints at my passions for education, the written word, nature, gardening, and food. So much of this is rooted in my German heritage and was passed down to me as a quiet and shy child at the kitchen and dining room tables as I observed the activity that swirled around me and processed the conversations I heard.

I was never permitted to be a picky eater, had to eat what was prepared and placed on my plate, and liked most foods as a result. I eat more broadly now and with great interest, but I recall some simple foods of my youth with such great fondness that they can only be called comfort foods at their very best.

Today, I thought I would share one simple recipe, one simple comfort food of my youth eaten with butter and apple sauce or cinnamon sugar or hazelnut spread or hot cherry soup. I love pancakes of all sorts and like to eat breakfast for dinner sometimes as an unexpected treat. German Pancakes satisfy at breakfast, at dinner, for a snack, or as a treat. From Where the Sidewalk Ends, I know that Shel Silverstein would know exactly what I mean, too.

German Pancakes

Mix in blender:

2 cups milk

6 eggs

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

½ cup granulated sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Heat a greased skillet to piping hot:

Reduce heat and pour a thin, crepe-like layer of batter to cover the entire bottom of the pan -- the bigger the pan, the bigger the pancake. When bubbles form and bottom begins to brown, flip and brown other side. Top as desired. Best when eaten immediately but can be stored in the refrigerator and reheated.

Yield: 8 to 12 pancakes

Techniques

I have so much to learn about baking and cooking, so many techniques to master, everything from drying herbs to beating egg whites. Sometimes, I just need a refresher or confirmation that my instincts in the kitchen are correct. Sometimes I need an introduction to something completely new as I expand my repertoire of recipes and dive into new dishes. And sometimes, I realize that I never really learned a technique appropriately and would benefit greatly from the lesson.

I wanted to share two new sources of information on techniques that I have really enjoyed lately. First, the New York Times has a series of videos on Cooking Techniques. Each video is brief but thorough and teaches a specific technique such as dicing, reducing stock, or rolling pie dough. I am working my way through the library, watching several at a time as I take a five minute break in the afternoon.

Second, I stumbled across The Great British Baking Show on PBS. I love the low key nature of the hourlong show as amateur bakers compete week to week to become Britain's best baker. Not only does each challenge focus on a different skill, but the show also introduces the viewer to the depth and breadth of British baking with plenty insight into the making of puddings, for example.

If you are used to the American style Top Chef or Cake Boss, The Great British Baking Show will offer a stark contrast in tone and approach which seems to suit me better. For example, in line with this program, I am not fond of fondant but am more inclined to wrestle with a creamy butter frosting that may lack the polish but win out on taste in my book.

Winter is the perfect time to curl up and watch either one of these technique building venues. I encourage you to take a look and learn with me while we enjoy the mediums, sip an afternoon cup of tea, and nibble on a biscuit. Enjoy!

Compass

After the events in Paris this week, I have been thinking about my personal compass. How do we orient ourselves in a world which, at times, is so unpredictable, so violent, so incomprehensible?

I remember when my husband and I first began dating he once gave me a small plastic compass with words he composed on finding one's true north in life. I remember how romantic the gesture was and am reminded how true his words ring even today. Just last week, I read the following in a caption below a photo in the book Humans of New York by Brandon Stanton which my older daughter gave me for Christmas and I absolutely LOVE:

To the world you may be one person but to one person you may be the world.

My compass always points me first and foremost to my husband and girls, to love and its power to transform. I am fortunate to know deep intimacy that provides security when life seems uncertain and confounding. I can return home and find comfort at NOLD as the world keeps spinning. I can grapple with news and knowledge with others in a way that evokes empathy and leads to deeper understanding rather than fear and insularity. Could anything be more necessary this century in challenging times?

Of course, a good meal always nurtures good relationships and fosters good conversation. So, I return to the kitchen, to comfort food. Let me share a recipe that may use up any leftover mashed potatoes (which you can freeze in two cup portions) from the holidays and warm not only the body but also the soul on a cold January evening. You can prepare it ahead of time, cover tightly, and refrigerate until ready to bake -- just be sure to bake an additional 15 to 20 minutes until heated through.

Shepherd's Pie

2 pounds Russet potatoes, peeled and cubed (or 2 cups reserved mashed potatoes)

1 pound ground beef

¼ teaspoon ground allspice

Sea salt and ground black pepper

1 medium yellow onion, peeled and minced

½ teaspoon granulated sugar

2 cups shredded zucchini

¼ cup water

2 cups fresh or frozen corn kernels

⅔ cup milk

½ cup shredded sharp cheddar

⅓ cup heavy cream

1. If not using reserved mashed potatoes, boil Russet potatoes in salted water until soft, about 15 to 20 minutes; then, drain. Set aside.
2. Place ground beef in a large heavy skillet at medium heat. Season with allspice and salt and pepper, to taste. Brown, stirring frequently, until just cooked through. Using a slotted spoon, transfer meat to a bowl.
3. Add onions to the same skillet. Sprinkle with sugar and cook on medium-low heat until golden brown and caramelized, about 15 minutes.
4. Add zucchini and water and saute on medium heat, scraping any brown bits stuck to the bottom of the skillet. Cook until zucchini is translucent and soft, having released its water.
5. Add ground beef and corn, combining thoroughly. Season to taste and heat through. Press mixture into a 9-inch pie plate
6. Transfer choice of potatoes to a large bowl. Mash or whisk the potatoes until completely smooth, adding milk, cheddar, and cream and seasoning to taste as you mash them. They will have a soft consistency. Spread potatoes evenly over meat mixture
7. Bake at 350˚F for 30 minutes, until heated through. Then, broil 3 to 5 minutes to brown top. Serve immediately.

Yield: 6 servings

Guests

Guests are a large part of our life at NOLD due, in part, to the academic lifestyle which brings a wide variety of students and scholars through our door. This professional perk then extends to a worldwide web of colleagues, friends, and acquaintances who return as alums or supportive visitors. 

In addition, our families live halfway across the country, leading to extended visits, especially at the holidays. I have a fondness for the holidays throughout the academic year, beginning with Halloween, and enjoy hosting parties, which often bring people from these different parts of our lives together such that the network continues to grow.

The result is that NOLD gets plenty of use and, as anyone who owns an old house knows, our abode can also be uncooperative at times. A leak springs forth. An appliance dies. Plaster cracks. Masonry crumbles. Fortunately, at 85, NOLD's ailments have been minimal despite the fact that they seem to come in waves.

Sitting in my hovel (my small office at the top of the back stairwell) a few weeks ago, I began hearing scritches and scratches in the attic above. With the weather turning colder, I guessed that new neighbors were hoping to move in for the winter, but the freeloaders will have to go.

Nonetheless, they stimulated some reflection on guests, spurred my imagination, and inspired this poem, a lighthearted glimpse into the reality of homeownership at NOLD of late:

Uninvited Guests

Cobwebs drape the radiator

Mildew clings to the grout

Dust bunnies hop across the floor

Drips run down the spout

Spider spins webs in the corner

Ants march in the door

Red squirrel squats in the garage

Mice claim the third floor

The weeds have launched an invasion

Leaves block the entry

Mud wasps nest in between the bricks

Deer act as our sentry

Iron windows draught from all sides

Pipes knock and floors creak

Cracks appear daily on plaster

Strange smells rise and reek

This old house has welcomed many

To dance, dine, or rest

Too kind to ever exclude these

Uninvited guests

Freddy still fails to earn his keep in this regard. He cannot resist the need to inspect as soon as a door opens, even the dryer door. However, most of his conquests of uninvited guests remain imaginary -- he is a super hero only in his own mind.

I want to share one recipe that might come in handy over Thanksgiving and the weeks ahead as guests arrive at your house for the holidays. This simple dish bakes us beautifully for brunch or a light lunch and is sure to delight.

Asparagus, goat cheese, and eggs are favorites at our house, and this bread pudding includes all three.

Asparagus and Goat Cheese Bread Pudding

1 pound asparagus, tough ends removed and cut into 2-inch pieces
2 cups 1-inch cubes of hearty bread
¼ cup minced fresh herbs such as Italian flat-leaf parsley, tarragon, or thyme
8 ounces fresh goat cheese, crumbled
2 cups milk
3 eggs, beaten
Sea salt and ground black pepper, to taste

1. Lightly grease a 10-inch round baking dish.
2. Steam asparagus until just tender, or about 3 minutes
3. Combine bread, asparagus, and herbs in a large bowl. Spread mixture in baking dish.
4. Dot bread mixture with goat cheese.
5. Whisk together milk, eggs, salt and pepper in a medium bowl. Pour over bread and cheese.
6. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes at 350°F, or until pudding has set and is puffed and golden brown.

Yield: 6 servings

Adapted from Prairie Home Cooking by Judith Fertig

Reexamination

Fortunately, life sometimes offers us the opportunity for a second look, the time to pause and reexamine, review, or rethink a few things. No need to get too set in one's ways or forgo the opportunity to learn or try something new. Here are a few of the second glances I have taken recently:

The vine climbing the old oak right in front of the house had the most beautiful fall foliage again this year.

When the leaves were well past their prime, browned and brittle, I noticed for the first time that the vine produces a berry in autumn, well hidden beneath the color until the leaves give way.

I took a closer look and realized I had never noticed them before even though they were right outside my front door for two years.

I love that nature never fails to surprise and teach and provide.

I am also rethinking Thanksgiving dinner. Our house will be quiet this year, a gift after an incredibly busy fall. I plan to pare down what we prepare to the essentials: a small, stuffed turkey, mashed potatoes, sides, rolls, and pumpkin pie. I am even thinking of buying the gravy at a local butcher. The goal will be to increase down time and fun with my immediate family by reducing the work load considerably. I have to recommend Thanksgiving by Sam Sifton to anyone reexamining their holiday cooking or anyone interested in a concise read with all the necessary information to prepare the meal successfully.

Finally, with a substantial amount of entertaining ahead at NOLD throughout October, I wanted to try a healthier version of the standard artichoke dip with a mayo base. You know the one. I love artichokes and wanted to find a savory dip more complex in flavor. I hit the jackpot and here it is -- out with the old standard and in with the new. This reexamination is worth a second look on your part, too. Enjoy it this holiday season.

Artichoke Fondue Dip

1 14-ounce can brined artichoke hearts, drained and chopped
1 cup shredded Parmesan cheese
1 cup shredded aged Gouda Cheese
½ cup heavy cream
3 tablespoons dry white wine
1 tablespoon chopped fresh Italian flat-leaf parsley
2 teaspoons cornstarch
Fine sea salt and ground black pepper, to taste

1. In a medium bowl, thoroughly combine ingredients.
2. Pour into a 9-inch, shallow baking dish.
3. Bake at 325°F for 35 to 40 minutes, or until lightly browned on edges.
4. Serve with baguette slices or crackers of choice.

Yield: 2 cups dip

Adapted from The New Midwestern Table by Amy Thielen

Welcome

In April what you see is your own intentions. In October you see their unexpected wreck and fulfillment. (171) The Rural Life by Verlyn Klinkenborg

One letter changes unseasonable to unreasonable. Somehow that thought entered my mind last week as I struggled to stay awake long enough to read five pages, just five simple pages. I guess what I am really trying to say is that it doesn't take much to throw me off of my routine and best intentions. Our family life is full on a regular basis. Add a few more things to our plate, and our hectic pace becomes frenetic. This has been the ongoing story for the last month, perhaps longer.

So many of the goals I set in April have simply not been met like the books I had hoped to read, the gardening and cooking I had hoped to accomplish, the words I had hoped to write. Of course, our family time has been great (including hosting an exchange student), the traveling was memorable and rejuvenating, and plenty of work of all sorts has been accomplished. Yet, October is perhaps my favorite month and this unseasonable busyness has felt unreasonable to the very core.

In the waning days of October, I returned home one evening as the sky turned luminescent, and I found myself looking forward to breathing in some cold air, the cold air that generally arrives along with November. I found myself thinking, "Welcome November." Before I knew it, the new month blew in yesterday with north wind and hints of snowfall. I breathed in deeply with gratitude for I actually see space on the calendar despite the upcoming holidays such that November looks promising, and a new set of intentions is already percolating.....

Of course, November must begin with comfort food, hearty meals that stick to the ribs and provide sustenance to brace the cold, head into the wind. So, here are a few dishes to put on the family dinner table or share with friends in front of the fire. Falling temperatures and shortening days require we nurture ourselves in the most basic of ways, so we can welcome the coming season with gusto. Enjoy!

Oat Bran and Zucchini Turkey Meatloaf

2 teaspoons vegetable oil

2 cups grated zucchini

1 medium yellow onion, minced

3 cloves garlic, minced

2 pounds ground turkey (or, 1 pound ground turkey and 1 pound ground beef)

¾ cup oat bran

1 egg, lightly beaten

3 tablespoons tomato paste

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon minced fresh thyme or rosemary

1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce

1 teaspoon table salt

½ teaspoon ground black pepper

1. Heat oil in skillet and cook zucchini and onion about 10 minutes, or until softened. Add garlic, and sauté for 1 minute more. Remove from heat.
2. Combine sautéed vegetables with remaining ingredients and place in a meatloaf-baking pan. Bake at 350ºF for 1 hour.  Let stand 10 minutes before serving.

Yield: 8 to 10 slices

North African Beef Pot Roast

1 ½ tablespoons olive oil

1 (3-pound) chuck roast, well trimmed of fat

1 teaspoon sea salt

½ teaspoon ground black pepper

2 large leeks, cleaned, trimmed, and chopped

6 carrots (about 1 pound), peeled, trimmed, and cut into 2-inch-long portions

2 cloves garlic, peeled and minced

2 tablespoons ground paprika

2 teaspoons ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons ground cumin

Leaves from one large sprig of tarragon

4 cups (32 ounces) beef or vegetable broth

1 (15-ounce) can chickpeas, rinsed and drained

1 cup chopped dried apricots

1 cup golden raisins

½ cup chopped fresh cilantro

¼ cup chopped fresh mint

1. Heat olive oil in a large heavy-duty roaster or Dutch oven over medium-high heat. Sprinkle roast with sea salt and pepper. Sear roast in pan, about 4 minutes per side or until well browned. Remove from pan and set aside.
2. Add leeks, carrots, and garlic cloves to pan, and cook, stirring constantly, for 3 minutes. Combine paprika, cinnamon, cumin, and tarragon leaves in a small bowl; add to vegetables, and cook, stirring constantly, about 2 more minutes. Add broth, and return roast to pan.
3. Cover and bake at 325˚F for 3 to 3 ½ hours or until fork-tender. Remove from oven.
4. Add chickpeas, apricots, raisins, cilantro, and mint. Stir gently to combine and return to oven for 10 to 15 minutes or until ingredients are fully heated and flavors combined.

Yield: 8 generous servings

Preserve

A cool north wind blew in on Saturday, sending the first of the yellow birch leaves flying. This harbinger of autumn has sent the wildlife into a frenzy of activity. The feeder is emptying in record time. The black walnuts fall steadily from the tree with a heavy thud. They are so hard and haphazard that I wonder how it is possible that one hasn't hit me in the head yet and what the consequence of such a blow might be. The squirrels aren't deterred; their teeth take the nuts to task as their paws quickly spin the protective outer shell. 

My husband has been tackling the wood pile; revealing and demolishing numerous chipmunk nests. They have a vast network of tunnels beneath the surface of our property and their numbers seemed to swell so much this year that the sighting of hawks in the neighborhood is celebrated. I have been watching them swoop low with their unmistakable light coloring underneath only to see them rise up and further up to perch in the tips of the tallest pine trees, masters of their domain.

School just began, and a routine has not yet settled into this family. I am working with as much energy as I can muster each day, falling into bed at night completely spent. I am not so different from the tenants outside my door; I am preparing for the coming winter, too. I am cleaning and organizing and simplifying as best I can. With all the activity and travel over the summer, many tasks were left undone or abandoned all together like berry picking. Still, I will put my head down to preserve as much as I can from the harvest still at hand.

I bought half a bushel of tomatoes at the farm stand, knowing nothing says autumn to me as much as preparing batches of my Roasted Tomato Sauce. Throughout the coming months, I will open a jar and taste the peak of summer as I use it to make marinara sauce or homemade pizza or a hot dip or baked eggs -- it is incredibly versatile and simple to prepare. I also used a few extra tomatoes to make a couple Three Cheese Roasted Tomato Tarts -- one to eat immediately with a hearty salad for a family dinner and one to freeze for a quick meal in similar fashion in the coming months. 

Roasted Tomato Sauce

15 cloves of garlic, peeled and halved

8 to 10 pounds of ripe tomatoes, any variety, washed and cored

4 to 5 large yellow onions, peeled and quartered

1 large handful of fresh herbs, chopped

¼ cup olive oil

½ teaspoon salt

Ground black pepper

1 to 2 tablespoons granulated or raw sugar, optional

1. In a large roasting pan, gently toss together garlic, tomatoes, onions, herbs, oil, salt, and pepper to taste.
2. Roast at 450°F for 25 minutes. Gently stir.
3. Roast for an additional 25 minutes. Stir again.
4. Roast for 45 minutes more or until tomatoes are softened and broken down into a sauce.
5. Remove from oven and blend in a blender or with a stick blender until desired texture. Taste for seasoning. If slightly bitter, add sugar and stir.
6. Eat immediately, refrigerate for up to 5 days, or freeze for up to 10 months.
7. Or, can in a hot water bath, boiling for 30 minutes.

Yield: 4 to 5 quarts 

Three Cheese Roasted Tomato Tart

3 Roma tomatoes, cored and halved

2 tablespoons olive oil

¼ teaspoon salt

Ground black pepper

1 pie crust, baked in a 9-inch pie pan (See Baking Basics in Recipe Index)

3 eggs

1 cup ricotta cheese

2 cloves garlic, minced

¼ teaspoon salt

½ cup shredded Jarlsburg or similar soft Swiss cheese

¼ cup Parmesan cheese

1.    Place tomato halves on a baking sheet, drizzle with olive oil, season with salt and pepper to taste, and roast for one hour. Set aside.

2.    Beat eggs, ricotta, garlic, and salt together until well blended. Pour into pie crust.

3.    Top with Jarlsburg cheese. Arrange tomatoes decoratively on top and sprinkle with Parmesan cheese.

4.    Bake at 350°F for 30 minutes until firm and lightly browned. Let sit 5 minutes prior to slicing.

Yield: 6 to 8 servings

The smell of ripe tomatoes on the counter reminded me that Pablo Neruda would appreciate this small act of preservation. Roasted Tomato Sauce celebrates the "star of earth" of which the poet writes, and I await the invasion come December, too.

Ode to Tomatoes

Pablo Neruda

The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it’s time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.

Midwest

Ask a passerby what states make up the Midwestern United States, and you will get a different answer every time. Some will even say that the Midwest includes everything between New York and California except for the deep South. Growing up in Wisconsin, I never really considered North Dakota, South Dakota, Nebraska, Kansas, and Missouri to be part of the Midwest, but I believe they technically are along with Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, Illinois, Indiana, and Michigan.

I only mention the Midwest, because I want to recommend three cookbooks from the Heartland that I own and appreciate. Each contains recipes from a broad range of Midwestern states and would make a wonderful gift singly or as a trio. Practical, beautiful, and interesting reads, you may want to add them to your own collection to turn to repeatedly in the kitchen for inspiration and guidance. New or tried and true, these cookbooks are certainly worth a peek:

Celebrating the Midwestern Table by Abby Mandel

 The New Midwestern Table by Amy Thielen

Prairie Home Cooking by Judith M. Fertig

I found a favorite new and easy pea salad in Prairie Home Cooking that I wanted to share. In late spring, our local farm stand carries two cup bags of fresh shelled peas. Exceptionally flavorful and perfect for this salad, these peas are worth buying in bulk and freezing for future use in any number of recipes like this throughout the year.

Use turkey or uncured bacon, whole grain pasta, and well-aged cheddar for nutrients and full flavor.

Iowa Pea Salad

3 strips bacon, fried crisp and crumbled

1/2 cup chopped green onions with some green

2 cups cooked peas, fresh or frozen and thawed

1 cup cooked macaroni

1 cup mayonnaise

1/2 cup shredded cheddar cheese

Combine all ingredients. Chill for at least 2 hours. 

Aroma

I love walking into a kitchen, when the cook is just about to serve a meal and the aromas wash over you with great pleasure. It is pure sensory overload. The smells linger and may even become a part of us. We all have memories associated with aromas, returning us to a favorite dish or an exceptional meal shared with a special someone, because the sense of smell imprints deeply and shapes us forever.

Recently, I realized that I also have favorite aromas in the kitchen that are related to a particular activity I undertake as a cook. I think this is one reason cooking is so enjoyable for me despite the work involved. Cooking produces something tangible, nourishing, and satisfying. Cooking produces something best shared slowly and accompanied by conversation. Cooking allows the cook to engage in creative, sensory awakening activity. Cooking feeds us body and soul.

Read the following list and share in the aromas that welcome me to the kitchen. If you are even remotely enticed, run to the kitchen and join in. Everyone is welcome.

Favorite Aromas in the Kitchen

Sauteing Onions

Brewing Coffee

Browning Butter

Proofing Yeast

Roasting Beets

Broiling Cheese

Caramelizing Sugar

Peeling Oranges

Toasting Pecans

Basting Turkey

Snipping Rosemary

Mincing Garlic

Baking Shortbread

Frying Fish

Kneading Pizza Dough

Measuring Vanilla Extract

Slicing Peaches

Pureeing Applesauce

Simmering Marinara Sauce

Zesting Lemon

Braising Chicken

Beating Cake Batter

Slicing Smoked Sausage

Steeping Earl Grey Tea

Melting Chocolate

Ghirardelli Square, San Francisco

Nest

The nests of spring have sprung up. Invariably, I come upon a nest as I clear and trim in the yard.

Once in a while, I have inadvertently pulled down a nest along with a large branch; in the past, my younger daughter brought these to elementary school to share with her class.

Now, I place these in large glass cloches for display along with painted, speckled eggs and other natural treasures like pine cones or portions of a paper wasp nest.

I also made chocolate nests this year for a dinner party by combining brown rice krisps, mini marshmellows, and melted milk or white chocolate until completely coated.

Divide into colorful paper cupcake liners and allow to cool and harden.

Chocolate nests are perfect for nestling small jelly beans or

Belgian chocolate eggs sent across the Atlantic by dear friends.

Along with a nest of straw and a chocolate chick,

I was able to celebrate the season with edible decor in line with nature.

You can view real nest activity and learn more about nests and birds at NestWatch.

I often enjoy watching and listening to the wide variety birds that also call NOLD home, working side-by-side as neighbors on this small acre and caring for family and home and land.

 Thus, I have several birdhouses strategically placed in the yard along with a squirrel-proof bird feeder.

So, as you nest this weekend and celebrate Mother's Day, I do hope you think of nests broadly. I plan to ponder the well being of the natural world as well as humankind which made me think of this poem, sent out as good thoughts to all my dear readers:

A Prayer Among Friends

John Daniel

Among other wonders of our lives, we are alive
with one another, we walk here
in the light of this unlikely world
that isn't ours for long.
May we spend generously
the time we are given.
May we enact our responsibilities
as thoroughly as we enjoy
our pleasures. May we see with clarity,
may we seek a vision
that serves all beings, may we honor
the mystery surpassing our sight,
and may we hold in our hands
the gift of good work
and bear it forth whole, as we
were borne forth by a power we praise
to this one Earth, this homeland of all we love.