Melting Away

Seemingly, overnight the daffodils opened up their lemony, teacup blooms and the Bradford pear trees are showy with a huge puff of white blossoms. Wasn't it just a couple of weeks ago that the view from the window was that of a frosted wonderland? Though chickweed is sprouting, as is the temporarily beautiful wild violet. Top of the do-list is some intensive hand tilling of the garden to get ahead of them and a host of other maddening greens emerging everywhere. Why doesn't the artichoke and chayote let me know they survived winter as quickly? I am hopeful, for we did not have the record-breaking winter of New England but nor did we bathe in the unusual warmth of Southern California -- everyone here was hunkered down under a heavy bed of mulch, hay and dirt. Happily my mitsuba (Japanese parsley) and loveage are already sending up leaves, and the French sorrel is almost “pluckable.” The garlic cloves that sprouted before I started wrapping a scarf around my neck are barely bruised by winter’s assault. Ahh, the awakening from a winter’s sleep never fails to excite every part of me.

Officially, spring is just days away but from my kitchen door it has already come. On this  

St. Patrick’s Day when all that is green is celebrated I will add that spring is the greenest of things to rejoice. The coming weeks my menus will be drenched in green long after the Chicago River has faded to its more expected murky brown.  I wait for the lettuces I sowed to mature, and anxiously anticipate the outlier during this green time, radishes and their punch of color, texture and taste. For now, I will drink in the aromas of the stirring world around me and nibble on the bits of green I am offered.

Spring Garlic Pesto – yields approx 1 quart

3 spring garlic stems – root hairs trimmed away

4 scallions – root hairs trimmed away

Zest of one lime

½-cup pumpkin seeds – lightly toasted

1-teaspoon salt

½-teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

¾-cup olive oil

Roughly chopped the garlic and scallions. Then in a sieve wash them to rid it of any dirt and debris.

Then in a food processor place the garlic, scallions, pumpkin seeds, lime zest, salt and pepper. With the machine running drizzle in the oil – if the pesto seems too thick add a bit more oil.  Remove to a storage container. Drizzle a little oil on top of the pesto when it is being stored to prevent it for oxidizing and also to thwart the growth of mold.

Store in the refrigerator for up to a month, or in the freezer for up to six months.

Spring

Turing the corner

Overstayed, has been your residency

Roughed up, we all have been

Welcome the change

Slowly we’ll transit and blossom

Oatmeal Bread - yields 12 slices

1-cup oat bran

1-1/3-cups whole-wheat flour

2-1/4 teaspoons baking powder

¼-teaspoon baking soda

½-teaspoon salt

½-cup old-fashioned rolled oats

1-cup vanilla flavored non-fat yogurt

1-large egg

¼-cup canola oil

¾-cup soy milk

1-tablespoon honey

Pre-heat the oven to 375-degrees.

Grease a 9x5 loaf pan.

Using a whisk stir the oatmeal, whole-wheat flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt to thoroughly combine.

In a bowl mix the old-fashioned oats, yogurt, egg, canola oil, soy milk and honey to combine.

Mix the yogurt mixture into the flour to just combined. Pour the batter into the prepared loaf pan.

Bake in the oven for 45 to 50 minutes, or until a cake tester inserted in the center of the loaf comes out clean. Shut off the oven, and allow the bread to cool in the oven.

Run a knife along the sides, and invert the bread onto a wire rack – let the bread completely cool before slicing.

Change - Stress - Happiness

Life’s upheavals and unexpected turns takes you to places you may never imagined. I have gone from an urban forager of daily markets to a backyard garden on the outskirts of a congested metropolitan area to now, a resident secreted away in a bucolic setting of rolling hills where horses lazily graze on rich pastureland. I cannot wrap my head around the idea that this town has less people in it than the apartment building I use to live in.

I made this move just around the time my seedlings needed to be set free from their incubators but the move delayed their ability to take root in the earth. Everything is a bit off schedule and nothing is benefitting from a known routine – change is grand but the transition is stressful.  The dogs are not sure if we are just visiting, and continually sit by the car waiting to go “home.” My spouse and I are still searching through boxes and organizing never finding enough hours in the day to get what needs to be done. A first priority for me was tilling a spot and getting those seedlings to ground. I hope I have not over-shot my timing and the increasingly intense heat does not fry them. Those seedlings carried along in their earthen padded cradles, which they clearly had out grown, have been the first to settle with love and generous soakings will flourish and provide me with the happiness I get from fruit laden plants – however, in the interim this pastoral surrounding provides enough access to farms and a myriad of markets dotted throughout the region, and I am grateful for all the others who till some land. For me, nothing can surpass the pleasure and excitement I feel when I present a table resplendent with the gifts of my own tending. While the peas, radishes and strawberries of spring maybe of someone else’s touch I hold on to the promise that the tomatoes, peppers, eggplants and watermelons will be from those later started newcomers. 

Spring Salad – yields 4 to 6 servings

1-pound baby beets – boiled and peeled

½-cup fresh shelling peas

¼-pound baby carrots – thinly sliced

4-scallions – thinly sliced

1-teaspoon chopped Texas tarragon

½-teaspoon chopped thyme leaves

1-teaspoon chopped lemon verbena leaves

¼-cup chopped loveage leaves

¼-cup Balsamic vinegar

¼-cup extra virgin olive oil

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

¼-pound baby lettuce leaves

Tossed all the ingredients together, correct seasoning and serve.