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food revelry

I've been waiting for words to come to me about the meal I enjoyed immensely while in Athens, Georgia last month.  And even though I've been surrounded by food and food issues and food opportunity and food celebration recently, I still have no words for Farm 255 that will do the experience justice. 

Let's just say they celebrate pickles, and arrange flowers in mason jars, and cook supper from foods they grow and animals they raise.  Let's also say that I wanted to try everything on their menu.  And it may have been the best meal I've eaten (and this is saying a lot).  And that's really only a smidgen of it.  They do a better job at summing up what they're all about. If you find yourself anywhere in the greater Atlanta area, go to Farm 255.  It will be worth it; I promise.

Other food notes... Emily's pumpkin muffins can be made wheat-free by substituting the flours directly with barley flour (they'll still be gluten-full, but barley is an excellent wheat alternative).  And, I'm so very grateful for J and his cooking prowess.  Tonight I came home to a for-no-particular-reason midweek feast of foods grown and raised in the area.  Coq au vin with button mushrooms and bacon; a mash of russets, rutabagas and leeks; and steamed winterbor kale.  I'm a lucky girl in so many ways.

this weekend...

... the invites were gocco'ed, assembled, addressed and stamped (with postage, and too, a tiny stamp carved by me);


...ugly apples from the neighbor's tree were sauced and pie-d;

...a sweater was finished. 

A feverish child was cuddled.  A new cook book was discovered.  The post office line was conquered.  Spiced biscotti were twice-baked.  Jerusalem artichokes were tried (and liked).  Really Rosie was rediscovered.  

And a photo was selected for the Shutter Sisters' Daily Click (so many thanks, sisters!!).

A full weekend, indeed.  I hope yours was restful and rich.

bayfield blues

Monday was atypical.  And perfect.  I played hooky and we went to Bayfield County, Wisconsin to pick blues.  We managed to weigh in sixteen pounds from the bushes at North Point Farm - had they weighed us before and after picking, I'm certain a few more pounds could have been accounted for.

On our way home we stopped in a lakeside village aptly named Cornucopia.  We took off our sandals and walked along the sandy beach, listening to the waves and watching the light on the water.

Suddenly it feels like the end of an already abbreviated summer is here.  I'm hoping to squeeze in a few more of these atypical days, so as to preserve moments, like berries, for the long winter ahead.

sweet and sour

The nanking cherries are ripening all around the neighborhood.  We asked one neighbor if they had plans for their cherries and they invited us to take as much as we wanted.  Picking these prolific fruits is incredibly easy - we filled our containers in about twenty minutes by just running our hands gently across the branches while holding a bucket underneath.  We inadvertently gathered ladybugs and earwigs and spiders with this method as well.

Back home the pitting wasn't as quick, as these sour cherries are quite small.   But the jam that they produced is the perfect combination of sweet and tart.  It makes me want to bake bread and venture out to find another tree for picking.

The sweet cherries are in abundance at the food co-op too.  The produce buyer purchases slighty bruised organic cherries every now and a again, and sells them at fire sale prices.  This time around  we got extra for a pie.  Smitten Kitchen's sweet cherry pie recipe is so very good.  

I now realize that I need to find more nankings to make the sour cherry slab pie.   There's nothing wrong with two cherry pies in one weekend, is there?

one local summer :: week two

How do you define local?  One Local Summer defines local as from within 100 miles.  Our local food co-op stretches their definition to 300 miles, encompassing the wheat fields of the Dakotas and the dairy barns of Wisconsin.  I look at my pantry and I see the remaining few quarts of the tomatoes I put by last year - these were purchased directly from a farmer with whom I spoke for a half hour about her farm, her flock of sheep and how the growing season had unfolded for her and her plants.  But the tomatoes were grown over 225 miles from my home and purchased while I was visiting another part of the state.  Local?

And what about sustainably grown and conventional?  There's a greenhouse located within ten miles that pumps out peppers and tomatoes year round, but I don't typically purchase these vegetables because they're conventionally grown.  I do purchase the organic ones from Mexico with regularity.  Lesser of two evils?  Or not?

And what about packaging?  I can buy Minnesota grown portabella mushrooms from my food co-op that are packaged in a plastic-wrapped fiberboard carton, or I can purchase the bulk ones that are grown in Pennsylvania.  The fungi from the other state seems like the better choice, but is it really?

Clearly this week's One Local Summer meal (which I packed and ate for lunch through the week) has me thinking about the complexity of food systems and eating local.  I made chard, garlic greens and feta quiche with a whole wheat pastry crust and served it with mixed greens.  Mixed greens grown by my family, right here.  Eggs, butter, milk, chard and garlic greens from within 75 miles.  Cheese from a farmer's co-op based 250 miles away. Wheat grown within 300 miles, but ground into flour within 200 miles.  All local by someone's definition, which will have to do until I figure out one that makes most sense to me.  I'd love to hear if/how you struggle with the local food quandry.

one local summer :: week one

Tonight we kicked off One Local Summer with a dinner of grilled rib eye steaks, wild rice and mixed greens wth pickled beets and maple vineagrette with garlic greens.

The steaks were from a quarter cow we purchased in the late fall from Brown's Shorthorns.  The rice was harvested by members of the Fond du Lac band of the Chippewa tribe in nearby lakes.  The greens were grown in our community garden, harvested this afternoon, and topped with pickled beets we canned in the fall and a northwoods maple vineagrette dressing with minced garlic greens grown at a nearby farm and purchased at our local food co-op.  It was all washed down with a rye porter made of some non-local ingredients, but brewed in our kitchen.

My girl likes to say "thank you earth for the food" before dinner each night.  Tonight we also thanked the nearby fields and lakes, the seeds we planted last month and the local food we procured and put up last season.  More on One Local Summer can be found here.

local flavors

We tasted summer this weekend.  On Saturday we traveled to La Finca, our CSA farm, for their spring pancake and planting celebration.  I'm amazed at how much will happen there in the coming weeks.  Some of the fields were planted, many of the beds covered with a thin orange fabric that keeps small plants warm and reminds me of the saffron robes of monks.

The greenhouse was loaded with starts awaiting transplant.  The planting of squash was planned for the visitors, but a frost advisory kept the tender plants in the greenhouse for at least another night and kept the dirt out from under my nails.

On the way home we passed by Brown's Shorthorns, the farm from which we've purchased all of the beef we've eaten in the past two years.  We met Edgar, the timeless midwestern cowboy, on the road and stopped to talk about the animals he was finishing in the coming months.  He mentioned a  twin who didn't get her "fair share of the groceries" from the start and was therefore petite by shorthorn standards, and would offered at a discount to someone looking primarily for ground beef.  I like knowing the people who are growing and raising my food, and too hearing the stories behind the bringing of food to our table.

We returned home in time to cover the tomatoes in the community garden plot and harvest more of the frost-hardy greens.  We dug one of Edgar's roasts out of the freezer, sliced it up, marinated it in some siracha, sesame oil and sugar and put it in the dehydrator to make beef jerky for our upcoming canoe camping trip.  

I made a rhubarb pie using pink stalks grown in Wisconsin and sold at our local food co-op.

And, I signed us up for One Local Summer this year.  We'll be eating at least one meal each week that is made from local ingredients, and will be sharing it here and with other challenge participants.  I look forward to savoring the season.  The weekend tells me we're ready.

from seed

I snipped young green chives from the small herb garden outside the kitchen door last night and sprinkled them over a salad of tender baby arugula from a nearby farm.  The first taste of fresh and local for the season.

Around the block the spring greens we planted in the community garden are pushing up.  Mizuna, arugula, tat soi and a mix of baby lettuces.

Here at the beginning of our growing season, I look forward.  To growing more of our own - greens, cucumbers, tomatoes, herbs.  To procuring more directly from area farm families - vegetables, fruits, eggs, beef, chicken, lake trout.  To gathering from the woods - mushrooms, ramps, berries. 

Here at the beginning of the growing season, I also look back.  To the near empty shelves of last year's preserving efforts.  To last year's harvest and the work that went into it.  

I'm looking back this week too, because a photo I made at a harvest celebration last fall is featured in the upcoming issue of YES! Magazine.  It's an honor to have my image selected for inclusion in this excellent publication, and too to have our beloved CSA farm featured in this way.

kitchen alchemy

I made mozzarella cheese yesterday, following the recipe from Animal Vegetable Miracle.  Warmed milk.  Watched curds magically appear right on cue at 88 degrees.  Kneaded whey out of the curds.  Stretched warm curds into ropes.  Rolled small balls of cheese.  Ate much immediately, and all that remained atop pizza with capers and pepperocini and black olives.  

I so love a little kitchen alchemy.

green preserved

During the growing season we host a local pick-up spot for our CSA.  Boxes are delivered each week to our sun porch and shareholders from the area stop by to pick up their share of the week's crop.  There was a stretch midsummer when the farmer would bring the regualr boxes plus a huge box of zucchini for all members to share. 

The excitement of the squash wore off after a few weeks and it became apparent that all shareholders had contracted some strain of zucchini fatigue.  Invariably when I locked the sun porch after the pick-up a pile of enormous squash would be looking at me.  

We ate them marinated and grilled almost daily.  We gave them to anyone who would take them. When I learned that you could freeze shredded zucchini for quick breads, I pulled out the food processor and shredded, portioned and froze enough to make a bakers dozen.

When the temperatures dipped below zero over the weekend I pulled a bit of preserved summer out of the freezer and made a savory zucchini bread.  It's simple, easy and a very different take on the traditional sweet bread.  Since I can't quite invite you all over for some of the bread (even though I probably still have enough shredded squash to bake bread for each of you), I figured I would share the recipe.  Enjoy!

savory zucchini bread
recipe adapted from closet cooking

ingredients
 2 cups zucchini, grated
 1 roasted red pepper, chopped
 1/2 cup feta, crumbled
 1 teaspoon oregano
 2 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
 1/4 cup olive oil
 2 eggs, beaten
 1 cup all purpose flour
 1/2 cup whole wheat flour
 1 teaspoon salt
 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
 1 teaspoon baking powder

instructions
  - preheat oven to 350 degrees F
  - mix the zucchini, roasted red pepper, feta, oregano, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and eggs in a large bowl
  - sift the flours, salt, baking soda and baking powder in another bowl
  - mix the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients, stirring until just incorporated
  - pour the batter into a greased 9x5 inch loaf pan
  - place in center of oven and bake until a toothpick pushed into the middle comes out clean, about 1 hour