This bread takes forever to bake. The recipe that I was working from told me this, and I didn’t believe it, but I’ll tell you know it takes forever to bake. That’s not including baking the quinces, either.
But it’s worth it. Really really worth it.
Life is long, but totally not to be wasted. Rejuvenated? Yes…but I’m going to try to keep up the goodness with a lot of kale salad
Cold, then hot. Cold, then hot. It must be Fall. Soon, it will be entirely soup weather, but until then? One can never know. Will it be spinach salad? Or will it be…Indian lentil soup with spinach? Better watch the weather.
Happy Autumn, friends.
I want to talk about garlic this week. Yes, this is garlic, and it’s a pickle and so of course I know your already running to your kitchen to make some of this — now!
Today we took our relationship with chile peppers to a whole new level. Random, single and lonely hot peppers scattered throughout the refrigerator. Dainty cherry bells, withered jalepenos just past their peak, royal crimson lees, exotic Hungarian hot wax. They became hot sauce. Really truly.
A slump is a steamed pudding, a dessert for the day that you can bear the stove top but not the oven, a day when stewed fruit with buttermilk dumplings is just the thing — and it’s such a day!
For me, the most French place in my whole yard is the middle of my overgrown herb garden. And so I thought about herbs, and about what herbs want — about what I could eat to bring France right here. It had to be simple and effortless, perfect but able to be cooked in heels — chunky Julia heels. It had to be eggs. You might know it as shirred eggs, but today, we’ll call it oefs en cocotte.
Well, week two of summer fest has been such a party, I wanted to bring you all into it too.
Week one was such a flurry of cukes and zukes inspiration–I’ll never wonder what to do with zucchini again, and that’s really saying something
This week, we’ve moved on to another vegetable near and dear to my heart, one of those vegetables that I live for all year–in fact, this one is more than just a vegetable–it’s a way the light falls while you’re husking on the porch before the water boils, it’s the search for floss when you’ve snuck away to the bathroom at a dinner party, it’s one of the first foods my children really ate and took joy in. I would let them munch on the empty cob before they were really eating–and I’ll never forget the look on Sadie’s face when she found an errant kernel stuck to the cob. She lit up, and then searched excitedly for another one.
I might like cucumbers even more than I like radishes. I might be able to live on cucumbers for a very long time, as long they have just a bit of salt on them. Peeled or not, cut into spears or slices, I’ll eat them with glee until the vines are empty.
I have often spoken about canning as an activity that should be done with others, and I still hold to that. Especially when there is too much fruit to handle, and when the number of jars to fill is so high that you find that every surface in the kitchen is covered with motley mason jars, extra hands to hull strawberries or pit cherries can be the difference between tears and utter satisfaction. But there is another reason why canning with friends is a good idea, especially in your first few years of it all.
I’m talking about reassurance.