things left undone...

this is a confession. one that i'm only willing to make because reparations are in progress. i don't finish things. i start one great project after another, but leave many of them undone: creative projects, writing projects, and a great many small, but significant commitments to myself. if there were a 12 step program for this type of thing (actually, i'm certain there is) this might be my first step.

Some of these are old projects, like the memory book i began putting together for my sister (pictured above) which has been a sore spot for years. but there are also several new projects, started within the last few months, sitting around the apartment reminding me of my bad habit, and frankly, terrifying me~to think they too could join the boneyard of abandoned work!


(clockwise: stand mixer dust cover, hand-pieced/hand-quilted blanket, and unfinished painting resting on easel)

at this moment, i am feeling pretty comfortable surrounded by my things left undone - maybe it's the 3-day weekend, but really the answer lies in managing expectations and celebrating small successes.

big projects take lots of time. that's one reason i think i've taken such a liking to cooking. the process of creating a meal start to finish provides a quick healthy dose of accomplishment. enough small successes, and one might begin believing they could take on a greater challenge, like say... a quilt.

so in the spirit of celebrating small successes, here are some things that are finished:


rhubarb and strawberry jam, with hand carved block print label.
finished summer 08, but enjoyed with breakfast this morning


needlebook w/embroidery scissor pocket in sheep print


finished this book last night- Finding Flow by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi


Wheat berry and Smoked Chicken Salad & Tail-gating at minor league baseball game!

and now, i suppose, i have finished another post.

Georgia on my mind...

i sometimes live in denial of how deeply ingrained the habits of teaching are in me, until i spend two days reading archived articles about the country of Georgia and their recent conflict with Russia in order to write a blog entry about pork stew.



Georgian pork stew is just a recipe, like any other recipe one might find while perusing epicurious.com. it's surprisingly tasty for Eastern European food, largely due to the mid-east influenced herbs and spices (fenugreek seeds, coriander, tumeric, basil, cilantro, etc) . but while serving this ethnic cuisine guilt overtook me, since really i know nothing about Georgia (the country).

now, a handful of web searches later, i feel superficially aware of the political strife in this smaller than South Carolina country. so, if asked, i will not be mortified. furthermore, i can share these culinary tidbits: Georgia is possibly the source of the world's first cultivated grapevines and neolithic winemaking. Georgian wines were the most highly prized and sought after wines throughout the former Soviet Union, but recently the demand led to widespread counterfeiting (some of which was just flavored grain alcohol, but this apparently didn't stop many Russians from indulging????). in 2006, Russia banned the importation of Georgian wines (small part appreciation for excellence, large part political motives) nearly killing the industry. since that time the Swiss have taken on the challenge of promoting Georgian wine throughout Europe and some of it has made it's way to us.

Georgian wine made it to our dinner table last night, to compliment our Georgian stew. the stew was delicious. all the research was perfectly edifying. the wine, well let's just say, four-fifths of the bottle still sits on the table untouched. i hope it was the fake stuff, for the sake of the Georgians.

mise en place [MEEZ ahn plahs]

mise en place is a French culinary term that means you have prepped all of your ingredients and prepared your kitchen before cooking. if you grew up before the onslaught of round the clock real-time cooking shows, you might remember the beautiful array of little glass prep bowls of days past that made cooking seem like it was entirely an act of wizardry, magically in one oven and out the other...amazing! of course you knew someone had painstakingly minced that garlic and pre-baked that casserole, but cooking was neat, simple, and still looked fun!

of course, i don't always do it. it dirties lots of little bowls for someone else to wash. but when i do i find cooking highly satisfying and unflustered. it feels like the "right" way. not that anyone eating your food knows whether you went through this process. in fact, that person eating your food might grow increasingly worried after 30 minutes of prep and "you still haven't started cooking, yet?" but when the prep is fini, the cooking goes smoothly and often more quickly.

Springtime Eggs Benedict with Wild Greens and Mushrooms from Cooking with Shelburne Farms was a recipe that required preparedness, and i was happy to oblige!

the morning after...

last night we smushed 6 folks around our little dining room table. we borrowed 2 chairs, and i humbly served dinner on mismatched plates. it wasn't picture perfect, but sometimes you've got to let go and enjoy.

it was a fun mix of farmers and foodies... the loveliest people anywhere.

we drank wine, shucked oysters, and ate layers of creamy wild mushroom lasagna. at the end of the night we plunged into flourless chocolate cake, goat's milk cherry ice cream, and sun-cooked brandied cherries from our preserved food stash.

for the first time in a long time we had crashers on our couch and our living room floor. while tempted to lament about not having a room for guests, i chose to focus on the opportunity for another wonderful meal: brunch.

the boys went out early in the morning for a game of frisbee, while i prepared a pie crust. even without those convenient little pie weights (which i'll undoubtedly purchase the next chance i get), the quiche turned out lovely: creamy, flaky, and filled with some of spring's first leafy greens- broccoli rabe and wild ramps.

and as this beautiful spring weekend comes to a close, i feel grateful for all that i do have - great friends and delicious leftovers. what else is there? (besides pie weights?)

it's working...

it's only the second week that we've been using the kitchen menu board to stay organized and culinarily-inspired. but like many novelties, it was in danger of wearing off quickly. last week we made impressive food: short ribs, mushroom risotto with wild ramps, matzah ball soup, middle-eastern street food. this week we stared at the board without inspiration. um...burgers? finally we just jotted down some ingredients and left the details to be worked out later.

now it's later, and inspiration showed up just in time.

tuesday night: pork tenderloin & potatoes, or, if you prefer: Sauteed Pork Tenderloin Medallions with Port, Dried Cherries, and Rosemary, accompanied by Roasted Fingerling Potatoes and Kale. it's a winner because it gives us a chance to use up some dried fruit before summer arrives and we're knee deep in the fresh stuff, and it involves port. what could be wrong with a port wine reduction?

maybe this menu thing is working after all.

around the corner

while i set out to find inspiration for a meal at the market, it was pouring rain. generally, i like the rain, as long as i'm dressed for it. it keeps the crowds away. my gigantic umbrella provides an oddly pleasurable sense of privacy in a public space. but yesterday was a "pick up what you need, and move on" kind of day. mostly because there were better things awaiting me a few blocks from the market. NY Cake & Bake.

this week was the first time i'd stepped foot into this well-known establishment. somehow i wound up there twice in two days. once for a walk through and to pick up a b-day gift for my niece, then again yesterday to get serious.

i had a master plan to make not one, not two, but three fancy-pants martha stewart cookies. martha always seems to find her way back onto my radar. she's a perfectionist guru. she makes the simplest things grossly overcomplicated. so much so that her daughter now has a show that's entire purpose is to mock the impractical nature of her projects. martha makes sense to me, completely. i think to myself, we'll see whose laughing when i have a media empire built on my neurosis!

so i made cookies. lots and lots of very pretty cookies. 2 am, neck aching from hunching over the table placing symetrical dots on the backs of chocolate ladybugs. it was that kind of evening. entirely satisfying, once i hid all the smears, bleeding icing, and bunnies that had lost their limbs.

a spring menu

as a perfectionist i struggle sometimes with spontaneity, unless i plan it well. when the question "what are you making for dinner?" comes without warning i am known to panic, at least inwardly.

now, we use this menu board. and for one whole week, it has worked beautifully. i know what and when i'm cooking. i know what and when jordan's cooking. and i know which days we're on leftovers, and when we'll be dining out.

it's great. having it up there is just the right amount of compulsive organization, while the ease of changing it up keeps it flexible.

now i'm off, as it's getting late, to the greenmarket to find out what's in store for week two of project meal planning. to be continued...

i took the backroads to get here...

i've been away from this blog for some time now, but still rambling along the road to a perfectly satisfying existence. when i decided to sign on again, i thought about the way i began. it remains true. we find ourselves once again picking things up in the middle somewhere.

eventually we did get a car...

...then, on Black Friday, we discovered that someone had smashed it up while we were sleeping off our Thanksgiving turkey.

So, no trip to the country for us this holiday weekend. I'm not so secretly rejoicing the return to the greenmarket!

it occurs to me, one needs a car to get on the road...

These are our new neighbors. Jordan and I are renting an apartment in the country for the summer. Jordan will be interning with artisanal cheese and bread makers/dairy farmers. I will be cheering him on in his efforts. He began this week. I am still in the city planning what to pack for a 7 week stay on a farm, and waiting for our neighbors to pass along their much loved vehicle!



In the meantime, packing for a perfect summer feels a bit daunting, but I might as well get on with it. In the the spirit of reduce, reuse, and recycle...I found this 60's vintage nightgown. Seems like the right sleepwear for the cricket-filled evenings.

last day of break...

Sunday blues were bound to hit hard at the end of a two week break, but there is no better way to mourn vacation days gone by than with a leisurely midday brunch... in pajamas.

All of the usual suspects found their way to the skillet: eggs, bacon, and potatoes. Still something was missing. The words "pear mimosa" playfully spilled from my lips, fondly recalling a brunch at Cafeteria on 17th St. Jordan, knowing just when to take my teasing for a serious request, reminded me of the sparkling wine rolling around the bottom of the refrigerator. I enthusiastically added there were pears in the fruit bowl! We were off. Well, more accurately, he was off. Jordan threw a peeled pear into the blender and added the resulting puree to two glasses of sparkling wine. mmm... goodbye blues.

There are recipes available that use pear nectar and add vanilla vodka. Smooth and tempting, but our impromptu version suited me just fine. I like a little texture in my drink. I want to feel fresh fruit swishing down the hatch. A hint of vanilla sounds quite nice. Maybe next time.

six months earlier...

october

*An October wedding prompted a pilgrimage to foodie mecca, northern California. The entire state, engorged with an excessive harvest, burst at its seams. The wedding was an event worthy of its own post. We took advantage of the westcoast crops (rice, fresh dates, nuts, Rancho Gordo beans, etc.).

* Back in New York, Kiwiberries were a delicious end of season surprise.

november
* Outside of my apartment at 10:45 pm on a brisk November night, Jay Dines of Dines Farms pulled a 10 lbs. turkey from the back of his truck and handed it over. We managed to prepare an entirely local thanksgiving, including two pies, in our pajamas. Perfect.


december
* We celebrated 8 nights of hannukah and decorated an Organic Pagan Tree from Keith’s Farm.
* Under the tree: the iRoast personal coffee roaster, a home cheese-making kit, and 4 full seasons of River Cottage with Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall on DVD, and a tent for 2.

january
* Country Living. We moved our operation upstate to welcome the New Year fireside. Plenty of snow fall this year. We had a deliciously local dinner with friends at Stone and Thistle Farms and took time to ponder real estate opportunities.

february
* Made the move. After years of studio living, I’ve moved to a perfect one-bedroom. To my good fortune, the new place comes with a built-in boyfriend.

march
* The Locabar. It is not much, but it is local. We have bought our fair share of local wines, but cold March nights called for something stiffer. Inspired by our evening at Stone and Thistle Farms, I sought out a range of local liquors for Jordan’s birthday gift this year.

spring cleaning

It was clear that as the academic year picked up, my commitment to keeping a blog withered. A wider gap between posts turned to a couple of drafts wanting attention, to some photos on the desktop, to some photos in the camera, until finally to a mere passing thought… I should write about this or that.

Fortunately, in the spirit of spring, I’ve concocted a two-part remedy.

Part One: Spring Cleaning

A quick list-like post to breath life into all those mid-winter ideas lying dormant.

Part Two: Time to Grow

Behind the scenes, I’ll admit I have less than perfect time management skills. Luckily, spring feels like the right time to bust into self-improvement mode. Ironically, developing better time management will require time, so baby steps are to be expected.

last tomatoes of the season...

I was beginning to worry that Simon and Minty Marchmont, fictional food stars of the BBC's Posh Nosh, were the only ones who understood excessive food related expenditures. Then Lynne Rosetto Kasper of NPR's Splendid Table admitted that she had recently spent $26 on a can of tomatoes.

These were not just any tomatoes. They were San Marzano tomatoes, a thin-skinned pear shaped variety grown in the volcanic soil of Mount Vesuvius.

Food researcher Nancy Harmon Jenkins explains that the delicate tomato did not travel well, so a thicker skinned cousin was bred for exportation. The true San Marzano tomato had all but disappeared, when a savvy Italian farmer scoured a seed bank for the real deal. He brought the original back to the region, and now you have the choice between the impostors at your market and the $11 can (plus $15 shipping) from Gustiamo. Kasper chose the latter, which makes my own San Marzano tale slightly more bearable.

As a budding locavore, I would not be spending the $26 dollars to import the perfect tomato from Italy. However, a local version of the San Marzano tomato can be found at the greenmarket.

Last Saturday, as I stroked the taut red skin of one such fruit, the farmer uttered the words I most feared: "Last of the season."

I was already anxious about the end of harvest. It is easy to say goodbye to strawberries when they are followed with cherries, or to cherries once peaches arrive, but we are approaching frightening and unknown territory. Winter. If this was the last of the season, it could mean only one thing: canning.

4lbs Local San Marzano tomatoes - $16.00
1 Ball Blue Book of Preserving - $7.95
6 Ball pint size canning jars - $9.00 (1.50 each)
1 canning jar lifter - $3.95
1 wide mouth canning funnel - $7.99
1 candy thermometer - $19.95
1 plastic food mill - $14.95
additional ingredients - $5.00

Maybe I hadn't thought this one through. This is a recipe for $85 tomato sauce.

The plan was this: roast the tomatoes with olive oil, onions, garlic and herbs, then pass them through a food mill. Finish on the stove with a splash of white wine. It seemed simple, and I was excited to sprinkle herbs over trays of split tomatoes.

I over-roasted the tomatoes. I may have used the wrong variety for the cooking method. I was able to salvage about half. The other half passed reluctantly through the food mill, and yielded a whopping 2 ounces of sauce.

2 ounces of sauce that I will savor. It is, after all, the last of the season.

Now, there must be something around here worth canning!

cabin camping...

Unwilling to let go of summer without a fight, we managed one last trip: my birthday weekend in a rustic cabin on the edge of Cayuga Lake.

On the day of departure, I made a "just in case they've never heard of food where we are going" stop at the market to fill a cooler with road snacks and staples to get us through our first night. Then, I took half a dozen trips from apartment to car with camping supplies. By the time I reached Jordan's door, I was an exhausted crankmeister.

As we settled into the drive, I noticed that the patient and tolerant Jordan sitting beside me had a miserable cold. Guilt set in. I had spent the first part of our journey trying to convince him and myself that he was the cause of my misery. All the while, I was dragging him, clammy and congested, on a 5 hour drive to a shack without heat on a cold, wet September weekend. Hmm.

What kind of wretched woman takes her ailing boyfriend on the road under these conditions?

Then again, what's a girl to do? The plan was made. We had to go through with it, even if both parties were miserable. We could make this work.

Dinner was a huge success. Flounder fillets on a bed of curried quinoa with cranberries and crushed pecans. I was thoroughly impressed with myself, until I realized Jordan could not taste it. Although he assured me he was certain it was delicious, it just wasn't the same. How linked the joy of cooking is to the joy it brings!

On our second day, I thought of a way I might be able to salvage the weekend.

On one of those trips to the car that tuckered me out the day before, I lugged a 12-inch cast iron dutch oven and two bags of charcoal to the back seat. For our previous and only other camping trip, I had purchased the oven to amuse myself. When I finally worked myself up to use it, I wound up baking cookies in a thunderstorm, running back and forth from the tent to the grill stand with an umbrella and spatula in tow. I was hoping to do some more baking this weekend, but under the circumstances a different use came to mind.

On Saturday morning, we found all the necessary ingredients at the Ithaca Farmer's Market for Mom's homemade chicken soup. That'll fix you right up!



By the end of the weekend, we had managed a few nice breakfasts, a little Fingerlake winetasting (fun, but not terribly successful), and a beautiful hike through Taughannock Falls State Park.