god and apple pie

Here I go, looking for religion again.
I don't know why--maybe it's Sadie who sends me that way, asking her questions. I want someone else to write the answers and to tell me the rules. I want us to sit and take a moment before dinner to thank someone, anyone! for what's in front of us. Sometimes I'm envious of my neighbor (see? that would make me a bad Christian already) because God intervenes in her parenting so often. Her children are so polite--they have been raised to be good Christians and they are! And then my girls run around them in a little two-girl swarm, telling fart jokes and asking questions about evolution. They say, "we're Jewish! like Anne Frank!"

We're working on it, always working on it.
We haven't yet found the book that gives us the answers. Unless you count this one.

Last year it was pear pie, but this year it had to be apple. We have a a tree that gave us thirteen apples, and they were just holy (and holey) enough for our equinox pie. We don't seem to be able to find our place with the Jews or the Christians or the Muslims or the Hindus or the Buddhists, but we keep coming back to pie and and the 14 Forest mice when the season turns.

This year it was warm and we ate outside. It rained on our table just enough to cool the pie, misting in the way that my grandmother used to call "God's spit" and then the sun set with oranges and pinks. It was a real true Harvest moon, and we hopped in the little car and drove around the block twice with our necks craned out the easterly window, searching for the glow of the moon through the hill. Unlike the mice in the book, we didn't find it. The clouds and hills were working against us. Only Joey ended up seeing the moon rise a few hours later- he perched on the crest of the roof and me grumpy at the window, ashamedly afraid of heights.

And what are we celebrating? Well, this one shouldn't be too hard. There is the sunset and the spitty rain, and the one year older. There is the now Kindergarten and 2nd graders, the now real writer, the new kids in Joey's classroom who squeeze his leg. There is the little car, and neighbors, and health, and the house almost finished with all its building. There are friends, and there are things we try to do and do well, and there is town, and all of the world lit up with orange leaves. I could go on, but I'll cut to it. What are we celebrating? Well, of course there is the pie itself.

This is our apple pie. It usually made in haste, and it won't win any beauty contests. But on these days when the white pie dish comes out of the cupboard, we are celebrating everything.

I don't go for a sticky apple pie- I want all fruit and lemon and cinnamon. The balance has continued to change over the years and I assume that it will continue to do so. That's the thing about balance--it continues to change. I think these front yard apples made the best pie pie yet though If you have those, use them, but otherwise find someone else's front yard apples. Those will work too. But the celebrating's good for the flavor too--that and vanilla ice cream.

This Year's Apple Pie

1 recipe pie crust
3 1/2 pounds apples, peeled, cored, and sliced
1 tablespoon rum
juice of one lemon
1/4 cup cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
4 tablespoons maple syrup

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Roll out your pie crust and place one half of it in a buttered and floured 9-inch pie dish. Combine the remaining ingredients in a mixing bowl and toss until thoroughly combined. Pour mixture into pie shell. Roll out the other half of the crust recipe and place it on top of the filling. Cut four vents in the top. Bake for 15 minutes- then turn down the heat to 375 degrees and bake for another hour, or until filling is bubbly and the crust is beginning to brown.

I feel like I've been waiting for apple week forever, and here we are. This week's apples can be found bubbling a crunching and spreading joy all over the internet. Here's a start, from the fall fest family:

• Todd and Diane at White on Rice Couple: Apple picking, and Broiled Leeks with Apple Vinaigrette


• Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Louisa May Alcott's Apple Slump


• Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Remaking The Silver Palate Cookbook's Medieval Apple Tart


• Alison at Food2: 22 Awesome Ways to Use Your Apples


• Michelle at Cooking Channel: Apple Dessert Recipes


• Dana at Healthy Eats: 31 Days of Apple Recipes


• Liz at Food Network: Pick the Perfect Apple


• Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Apple Stack Cake and Dark Caramel Apples


• Food Network UK: Five English apples you should know and love


• Gilded Fork: Apples—Sweet Seduction


• Paige at The Sister Project: Third-Prize Apple Pie


• Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Favorite Apple Recipes

gifts

This time of year, the monarchs are hatching every day. You can spot a new monarch a mile away--their wings are wet and they dry out for a few hours before taking off into the world with these crazy joyous swoops.

It's like they've been waiting, and here they are, right in the moment that all this work has led up to. They have so far to go--the monarch migration is epic--but for those first few hours, they stay close to home, and so in these days, the air is full of them.

Anyone out there needing a soundtrack for these days as much as I do? Hope a new mix will help! Download it here....

the red meat radish, and a winner!

The last few weeks, we've had these radishes at the market. We cut them open and show people their tie dye centers, and there is oohing and ahhing, and then they have a taste of one, and there is a "oh, spicey!" and then another bunch is gone from the table, bouncing in a market basket as it walks it's way across the parking lot. We also have been selling purple carrots, and scarlet turnips, and little burgundy cherry tomatoes and purple scallions. There is always the question of how this purple one is different from the normal colored one, and sometimes there is a clear answer and I can say, sweeter! or more tender! but other times, I just say, "Well, it's lovelier, and that's worth something right?"

This one is so much lovelier, I just wanted to cut one open for you too. I grabbed a bunch for myself as we were packing up the truck after the market. I chopped a few of them up tonight, and Rosie snuck her hand in and said, "Mom? I'm going to set this one up for you."

She moved them all over the board, and as she worked, she kept a running commentary on the beauty of the red meat radish.
"It's like a sunset. A burst-y sunset."

Now Rosie has, in the past, been quite a radish hater. She'll pull them up all day long with glee, but they are far too much of a vegetable for her to actually eat. I asked if she would like to try her very own sunset radish. She's a smart one, and she went right for the salt.

"Radishes," she said, "are much better with salt." "Now it is not so spicy, and it is a sunset with little bugs on it. Good bugs."

And there you have it.

Yes, the radish.
But there's another thing, yes?
Today, in the car, I brought up the topic of the giveaway. We were out late eating carnitas last night with some lovely dinner compatriots and I didn't get a chance to choose a winner. Joey said, "How could you ever have one winner, and let the rest go unsatisfied? With answers like that?"
He's right.
So the plan has changed. It turns out that the winner is me. Because the array of food memories and longings that came in last week brought me so much happiness...I'm taking them all on. You might not get it in the mail (or maybe you will! we'll see!), but you will get a post here on this very site as soon as I find what you're looking for. So thank you, thank you! Let's see what we can do...

Indian lentil soup with spinach, and a flatbread from my favorite food blogger

Don't you just love a party that never stops?
From one season into another, we just can't give it a rest. As that little chill pricks around your as of yet unscarved neck, summer fest is slowly shifting into fall fest. If this all keeps up, I predict we'll be searching for winter fest topics too...
"What is that green frozen cube in the back of my freezer?" week, or "Good thing citrus season is coming because I think my kids are going to get rickets soon" week, or better yet, "Let's make stew again since we can't get out of the door!" week
Ah winter. In time, in time. But, I'm happy to be celebrating the fall for now.

Happy Autumn, friends. Wrap your sweater around you and let's have a little chat about spinach.

On second thought, (as I do have my own ways of dancing around the issue) and although yes, yes, spinach is entirely conversation worthy on these crisp cuspy equinitox-ical days, really I'm just thinking about Laurie Colwin.

Oh Laurie Colwin, the voice that whispers between my heart and my belly. She's made her appearances here before of course, especially in those weeks after my heroic friend Janet handed me her beat up copy with tight lipped inhale and an excited squeak, but she's been coming back a lot lately. I'm so glad her books are little paperbacks that I can carry in my apron pocket. I'm not sure what I'd do without her.
I'd have to say that Laurie Colwin is my very favorite food blogger.

Of course, Laurie Colwin has not put hands to a keyboard since her death in 1992, and so she has no food blog nor ever has had a food blog that we can google or tweet about. There are no daily updates, no accounts of what she made for her daughter for dinner last night, and this is truly our loss. What we do have are two books, books that speak and sing and feed--her voice is so present, so real, so "come in to my kitchen and go sit at the counter with this bottle of wine while I cook a little something for us," that this...THIS...is why I write here- only so I can extend the same sort of invitation. Thank whoever might be looking out for me for these little books that never fail to remind me why I even try.

There are, I think at this point, as many food blogs out there as there are people who have both a kitchen and a computer. In my opinion, this is nothing short of wonderful. I can only imagine that most people wrote that scary and exhilarating first post that put them out there into the world out of desire to invite someone into their kitchen, and I think each one of those invitations is a move towards where we want to be. I myself like to have a bit of company in the kitchen, and unless one is relishing their (rarely found but often sought!) alone time in the kitchen, then I also think a a full kitchen is a happy one, even if the guests are eating their fill from the other side of the computer screen.
I am happy to be one of millions. I think that if we all invite each other into our kitchens, if we all talk about what we're going to make...then there might just be one hum of invitation- one open door...that's right friends, world peace through food blogging! (or at least many people with a clearer idea of what they'd like to make for dinner)

This invitation has been on my mind--this hum and whir of it all. Sometimes I forget where I fit in, and I need a little shove. I'll say it one more time, because sometimes gratitude bears repeating...Thank whoever might be looking out for me for these little books that never fail to remind me why I even try.

Today, I made Laurie Colwin's flatbread. And soup. Soup with lentils and coconut and spinach. The girls sit on that side of the table, although Rosie's not going to touch that soup. Joey's over there on that side, but there are two chairs in the corner and another over by the computer in the living room, and just bring those in. Oh, and there's a stool in the laundry room too, if you don't mind a chair without a back. Squeeze in the corner there- I'll get you a spoon.

Oh, and before I forget, (no no go ahead and eat!) I'm keeping my little giveaway open for a few more days. The conversation over there is just too lovely- I can't bear to end it. So feel free to chime in--at least go read the comments! I'll keep it open till Friday.

Look- new logo! Fall is really here. Soup and bread for everyone.

Indian Lentil Soup with Spinach
adapted from Padma Lakshmi, Tangy Tart Hot & Sweet

1 cup orange lentils
1 teaspoon salt, plus more to taste
4 cups spinach, steamed, chopped, and squeezed of excess water
2 dried ancho chiles
2 tablespoons yellow lentils (I couldn't find these and so used yellow split peas, which worked fine)
1 cup grated unsweetened coconut
1 tablespoon canola oil
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 tablespoon brown mustard seeds

Soak orange lentils for 3 hours in tepid water. Drain and rinse until the water runs clear. Boil the orange lentils with the salt in about 4 cups of water- then reduce heat and cook on medium low for 40 minutes, or until they are tender. Once the lentils are soft, mash them in the pot so that they become more of a sauce-like consistency.
Add the spinach, mix well, and adjust the salt to taste.
In a small skillet, dry roast the chilis with the yellow lentils. The chilis will give off some heat, so make sure that your kids aren't in the room. Toast until slightly brown, moving the skillet frequently. This will take about two minutes.
In a blender or food processor, grind the toasted chilis and yellow lentils--add the coconut and blend some more. Add this mixture to the soup and cook it all together for a few minutes.
Heat up your little skillet again. Heat the canola oil, then add the cumin and mustard seeds. When the seeds start to pop and smell good, pour the little mixture into the soup. Serve immediately, with flatbread.


Just because I want to, I'm going to give this one to you verbatim. With apologies and gratitude to Harper Perennial--you know we food bloggers are always breaking the rules. I am so so sorry, but my words just won't do here. And so, from "The Case of the Mysterious Flatbread":

(Laurie Colwin's Flatbread, from More Home Cooking)

"Here then, for anyone who wants to make a delicious, exotic, and really easy bread (or an attractive pile of biscuits) is the method for Flatbread.
Stir together 2 tablespoons of warm water with a teaspoon of yeast and 2 tablespoons of yogurt. Mix in 1/3 cup of flour and 2 teaspoons of sugar. Leave overnight, or all morning, or for 3 hours in an unlit oven. The mix will bubble nicely until you are ready for it.
In a bowl combine 2 cups of flour, 2 teaspoons of sea salt and 1 tablespoon of black onions seed (these are called kalaunji) [also Nigella! that's me chiming in]. Add the yogurt starter and 1 cup of warm water. Knead the dough on a floured board, kneading in an additional 3/4 cup flour, and leave it to rise for 2 hours.
When the dough has doubled in bulk, divide it in half. Heat the griddle until it is hot. Flatten the dough as for pizza or roll it out and turn it onto the griddle. You want the bread to toast but not to burn. When it is brown and speckled on both sides (this takes about 5 minutes), reduce the heat to low and continue to cook it for about 10 minutes. Tap it to see if it sounds hollow.
The bread is flat and spongy and goes with anything you can think of. And it takes less than a half hour of hands-on work to produce. Furthermore, flatbread proves that we are all brothers and sisters. It is a cross between a Scottish griddle scone, and English muffin, a Russian bialy, an Italian focaccia and a Navajo fry bread--a whole United Nations in one loaf, and cheap and delicious besides."

Thank you Laurie.

And we are not alone today--the spinach is flying around here. What a group to share the kitchen!

• Gilded Fork: Spicy Artichoke Spinach Dip, and a Dossier on Spinach
• Caroline at the Wright Recipes: Spinach Rotolo, a rolled ricotta and pasta extravaganza
• Alison at Food2: Spinach Artichoke Dip
• Michelle at Cooking Channel: Paneer With Spinach
• Kirsten at FN Dish: Everyday Spinach Dishes with Giada
• Liz at Healthy Eats: Mini Spinach-Mushroom Quiche
• Food Network UK: Eggs florentine, brunch of champions
• Cate at Sweetnicks: Spinach Egg Breakfast Cups
• Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Mixed Mushroom Ragout with Herb-Polenta Cake
• Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Spanakopita Scones
• Todd and Diane at White on Rice Couple: Tuna and Spinach Bruschetta

And you? I'm feeling pretty hungry if you've got an extra seat in your kitchen.

What's cooking?

green chiles, and a giveaway! (exactly what you want)

Last week, a box arrived. I knew it was coming--I'd gotten an email about a week earlier. It was from my friend Heather. Heather lives in Portland with her husband Matt and their sweet little girl, and it turns out that on that day Matt had come home from Whole Foods with an arm full of real New Mexican Hatch green chiles--yes, those very chiles that I moan and cry for at regular intervals around here. He was going back for more, and she asked Did I want a few?, and you can imagine the volume of my hooting and cheering response. Yes, friends...reason number one to start a blog: your dear friends will send you all that you desire.

So there I am with this box- this beautiful box just jam packed with voluptuous and perfect New Mexican chiles. Strange as it is that my chiles would come from Maine, it does serve as just one more point to support the fact that the only place I love more in this country than New Mexico is Portland, Maine. And of course I roasted every one of those chiles in my oven--our eyes watering and our hearts crying out with joy. And then I took out my prized little bag of hominy, and I took a little piece of pork out of the freezer, and I cooked up a pot of posole which warmed my soul and cheered my spirit.

The taste of real green chile is one that I crave with passion. There is nothing like the occasional and perfect satisfaction of that kind of craving.

And it got me thinking...these cravings- the ones that go down to your toes, they are so wrapped in memory and place and feeling. And I started to wonder...what's the taste like this that you crave?

The more I thought about this, the more I wanted to hear what your answers might be. I know sometimes it can be scary to speak up, and so I thought- what would do it?

What if I did my best to find the thing that you crave with all your tastebuds?
I'm going to have to get creative, I'm sure. I have no idea how I'll do it until I know what I'm looking at. But if you leave a comment, and you are randomly chosen, I will figure out a way to answer your call just like Heather answered mine. No limits. Worldwide.

We'll keep the conversation going until Tuesday night (the 21st), and then I'll pick. Ready? Go!

my potatoes

I am an entirely incompetent gardener.
I think I'll get better, someday. Until then, I sort of like being bad at it. It makes me feel like life is long and there is so much room for improvement. With all the food I produce as a bad gardener, I can't even imagine what a superhero I'll be in thirty years.
I'm surrounded by people who know exactly what their doing--I mean they really know. My friends Al and Elizabeth who run Indian Line Farm, one the the first CSA's in the country. My friends Jen and Pete of Woven Roots Farm which is beginning to produce vegetables four seasons a year. There's Naomi who's garden is one of those wonderlands you just want to move in to. I've got it on all sides, and everyone is happy to share their knowledge, their seeds, their bionic vegetable starts. I've got no excuse for being such a bad gardener.

So what's my problem?

Well, no matter how many lovely notebooks I have, no matter how determined I am to change my ways, my garden is, well, I'll say--painted with rough and sweeping brushstrokes. In February, I think through the whole season, I make drawings of all my possible successive plantings, but the reality is, once I have something in my hand, I just can't help but put it in the ground, no matter what my plan is. Last year, Jen brought me a few trays of cabbage starts that she had left over, figuring I would plant what I wanted and compost the rest. But I just couldn't compost those beautiful little plants. And that's how I ended up with forty cabbages.

This year, it was potatoes.
It didn't seem like I ordered that many seed potatoes from Fedco. It was my first year growing potatoes, and I wanted a little variety. It all seemed perfectly reasonable.

Do you know how potatoes grow? They grow from other potatoes, potatoes that have been cut up so that each piece has an eye from which a new potato plant might sprout. And so I cut each potato that came out of my Fedco box into a few pieces, I left them in a sunny window to get started with the sprouting process, and then I went to plant those little potato chunks in my garden.

They filled up almost the whole thing.

There was a little space for carrots, a small bed for onions and a corner for one cherry tomato plant. The rest? Potatoes.

I could have stopped- composted some of those seed potatoes, given them to a friend, anything! But no, the bad gardener in me had to plant every single one of those little potato sections.

Now if you've ever grown potatoes, then you know just what happened next. But I can tell you that I was fascinated and shocked by the activity of those little potato sprouts. What happened next? They grew into a jungle. A jungle of strange and dangerous looking tomato-y type plants. I was told to mound around them as they grew, and so every week, I mounded. I mounded until I was bringing in dirt from other parts of the yard, and until there were deep troughs between the plants. My neighbor said, mound! mound more! Your potatoes will be green and then they will be poisonous! I mounded more.

Then, there was fruit on the plants. Hundreds of little hard green tomato like fruit. I gave a visiting friend a tour of the potato jungle. "What is that?" I asked. "Can I eat it?"

"Only if you want to die a horrible death."

I mounded more. I stayed far away from the scary green fruit.

One day, I stuck my hand into the ground, and I pulled out a potato. It was barely connected to anything- it was just there in the ground. For each spindly plant there was a gaggle of potatoes scattered in the earth below, whole, perfect potatoes. I showed that first one to Joey and he gave it a look I hadn't seen since Rosie was born. "Our...potato?"

From that day on, he dug potatoes almost every day, just to dig them. I pleaded with him to let them mature, to wait until it was time to harvest, but in the end, he was a little boy in a candy shop. I couldn't deny him the pleasure. Whenever we had a guest, Joey would pull them by the hand, and they would dig together. He got glowy even when he just talked about digging potatoes.

When the plants died and it was time to harvest, I think we had already eaten half the potatoes. I was secretly relieved, because I really didn't know how we would store all those hundreds of potatoes. I had asked everyone I knew, and I had gotten all sorts of answers.

"Dig a hole in the ground. Shovel a path out to the hole in the winter." (nope)
"Fill buckets with sand. Keep the buckets in your basement. Make sure the temperature doesn't go above 50 degrees." (nope. basement's too warm)
"Dig a root cellar! Don't you want one anyway?" (Absolutely! Would you like to come and build it for me?)

And so, in the closet under the stairs, there is a Ball Jar box. In the box, you will find our potatoes.

They are only slightly forgotten. We tuck into the closet and caress their lovely skin, and here and there, we eat them. They are fantastic and delicious potatoes. But I must say, after this season of our great potato invasion, they are still mysterious. The forbidden fruit, the randomly placed earthbound potato--this is no summer lettuce mix.

Next year, the potatoes will come again. But I'll plant one bed, and then I'll share the rest of my seed potatoes with you.


Even as the cool wind blows in, we are still celebrating the summer. And yes, it's potato week! Our potatoes have found themselves in so many clothes this summer. There have been a regular batch of Greek Island Potatoes, of course, and then there was that hash. As the leeks have come in, they've been kissing the potatoes in potato leek soup, and there has been a potato salad or two. I've been dreaming about potatoes with horseradish and cream, and the season's coming around to beef stew time again. I think that potato box will be empty, soon enough.

And you? What are your potatoes wearing this week? Just to get your inspiration going, let's see what the crew is cooking...

Alison at Food2: Boil 'Em, Mash 'Em, Stick 'Em in a Stew

Kirsten at FN Dish: Twice-Baked Potatoes

Sara at Cooking Channel: Duck Fat Roasted Potatoes

Healthy Eats: A Day of Potatoes: Spuds for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner

Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Baked potatoes and vintage "junior" cookbooks

Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Hatch Chile Potato Salad

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Taquitos de Papa, made with leftover mashed potatoes

Caroline at the Wright Recipes: Indian Spiced Potatoes with Chickpeas (Aloo Chole)

Paige at The Sister Project: French Fries to soothe a burnt-out cook's soul

Margaret at A Way to Garden: Potato Growing, Curing and Storage Tips

fried chickpeas with sage

So I'm writing a book.
I haven't mentioned it, because honestly, I wanted to just hand it to you, to have a big reveal, and to say, "here!"
But right now I'm really in it, and I'm having a pretty great time (with occasional tears and panic, of course). I just can't not tell you about it.
It won't be in your bookstore for a long time. But if all goes well, it will be there not this Spring, but the next one.
I know! It's a while. But I have to write it, you know? And there will be pictures, and we have to take them! (Wait till you see what this photographer can do- really.) And then Clarkson Potter has to make the thing, and that takes time too.
But trust me, we'll do our best to make it worth your wait.
I'm telling you now, because I've been getting a few questions as to why I haven't been writing about those homemade staples that I was so obsessed with for a while. Where is the cheese? The crackers? Oh, you'll get all that soon enough. I'm getting all those recipes together so that there will be a whole books worth full of cheese and crackers and yogurt, and all of that good stuff that you don't want to buy anymore. (And my editor is being very patient will all my constant additions, so let me know if there is anything you want me to figure out how to make. I'm nothing if not adventurous.)

There, I've said it. I've now introduced you to "Untitled Cookbook", and I feel so much better. I told you I was going to be a writer, and now I feel so honored to have the chance to give it my best. (It works! Quit your job to do something you love!) And while I don't have a book for you yet, I do have a lovely little bowl of chickpeas to tide you over.

I have recently become a little enamored with fried chickpeas. I always cooked them in wet and stewy ways, and then I put a little oil in the skillet and fried them up. Endless thanks to my grandfather's lovely and talented companion Anahi, who stood next to me in the kitchen, and said in her perfect Argentinian accent, "These need sage, don't you think?" Brilliant, totally brilliant.

Fried Chickpeas with Sage

4 cups cooked chick peas
10 fresh sage leave
olive oil
salt and pepper

Heat the olive oil in a skillet. Add the chickpeas, and fry over medium heat until they start to get brown and crispy, about ten minutes. Add the sage in the last minute of cooking, and season to taste with salt and pepper.

pickled garlic

It's garlic week.
I'm in recovery from the weekend, and I almost didn't make a thing today. (Yes, the wedding went well. It rained on us while we ate dinner, but the wine was good enough that that was okay. Thanks for asking.) I almost gave you a little rundown of other garlic recipes that I've made- you know, roasted leg of lamb with garlic sauce or roasted garlic, onion and potato galette, or of course the king of kings garlic lemonade, or I guess when you come to think of it, just about everything I make around here that isn't dessert.

But then I couldn't resist shoving all the other things I had to do aside so that I could make something for you here. Because the truth is, I've really been wanting to tell you about this book.

Yes, I have pastoral British envy. I want elderflower rhubarb fool after the heritage roast that I cut myself and roasted on a spit in my very old hearth. I want stone walls and children with accents even though they wouldn't really be accents because that's how they talk. Sometimes, I just want to live in the River Cottage Books.

This is a new one- little and unassuming, written by Pam Corbin, containing nearly zero paranoia about canning safety. Put it in a jar. Put it on the shelf. As long as you are noble of heart, it will be good.


And so, because it is garlic week after all, and because I have this big bowl of uncleaned garlic that I hastily dug up and shoved in the closet, I thought I might spend a few moments in my new favorite cookbook and jar up a bit of garlic.

I don't know how it will taste, but I'm thinking...good.
Let's get to it then, shall we?

Pickled Garlic
adapted from Pam Corbin, The River Cottage Preserves Handbook

makes five 4-ounce jars

1 pound newer garlic (do it now, not in January)
about 15 peppercorns
5 bay leaves
1 1/2 cups apple cider vinegar
1/3 cup sugar
pinch of saffron threads

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Sterilize your jars for about 10 minutes in the pot, then remove them. Submerge all of the garlic in the hot water, and keep it in for about 20 seconds. Remove, and the garlic will slide right out of its skins.
Put the vinegar, sugar and saffron into a pan. Bring the mixture to a boil.
In a separate little pot, bring a few cups of water to boil. Remove from heat and submerge the lids and bands of your jars. Leave them in the hot water.
Meanwhile, pack the garlic cloves into the sterilized jars, adding a bay leaf and peppercorns as you go. Pour the hot vinegar over the garlic, and top with the lid and band. If the vinegar is hot enough, the jar should seal (the center of the lid will suck down) within a couple of hours. If it doesn't seal, you can also process in a hot water bath for ten minutes, or store in the refrigerator.
Use within a year.

Although that telling breeze is starting to make its way into the window at night, we're still celebrating the summer around here! Oh, luscious garlic, what will all of these talented people do with you? I can hardly wait....

odd and Diane at White on Rice Couple: Garlic Knots

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Spicy Pickled Garlic

Sara at Food2: Easiest Recipes Ever, Starring Garlic

Michelle on Cooking Channel: Roasted Garlic

Liz at Healthy Eats: 5 Reasons to Eat More Garlic

Kirsten at FN Dish: Garlic Chicken Greats

Margaret at A Way to Garden: Growing and Storing a Year of Garlic

Caroline at the Wright Recipes: Ajo Blanco Soup, and Confit Garlic

The Gilded Fork: Garlic Dossier and Recipes

Food Network UK: Glorious Garlic

Paige at The Sister Project: Spaghetti with Garlic and Zucchini

Cate at Sweetnicks: Double Dose of Garlic—Cuban Black Beans and The Best Pork Ever

Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Italian Marinated Eggplant and Sorrel and Garlic Sauce

summer's end

Everyone is getting married around here.
I'm serious. I know I'm prone to exaggeration, but really I'm right about this. It all started with our Canadian odyssey towards the union of our dear Chris and Kait. Then Luke and India walked down the barn aisle with their lovely Odette (oh the pie at that one!). Then it was Auntie Eilen and Uncle Jay on top of a mountain, just this past week. And tomorrow? Molly and Aurel in our very own backyard. And don't worry, there's more.

It's been a summer, for sure. And feelings have been right there- peppering late nights and days were there's nothing to do but stop and take a breath. Because of course for every happy moment there's another to work through, to talk through. And the light is always just right, and it's all so vivid, and I think- wait here- this will never be like this again.

There's been a difference though- I remember this feeling. I remember feeling it at 16, at 21--feeling like I had to grab on or the whole thing would just pass through my fingers. And although I'm young (yes, I still feel young!) I think I'm starting to realize that it will just pass through my fingers, and that's good.

I heard myself say something to a friend yesterday who was panicking that she didn't know how her life would look in a year, and it scared her.

Why would we bother getting up and setting off into each day if we knew the plot- if we really knew what was going to happen?

It helped me to hear it too, and in the midst of change of the seasons, of the girls going back to school (kindergarten and second grade!), of all my dear friends starting new lives with new partners, I'm hanging out in the suspense of it all. This year's been big- really big, and if I had it all planned out, maybe there wouldn't have been the space for all these unknowns to occur.

I wonder what will happen this fall.

Thanks for hanging out with me here for a few minutes. I'll be back next week, after my Molly is good and married. For now, it all wedding food making around here. But I'm going to send you over here too- if you're feeling the transition and aching for a soundtrack, I think you might like it.

Happy September.