tools from the bazaar

I'm really back now. The details of day to day life require my presence, and I mean really require it, so I've stopped leaving pots and the stove and daydreaming of little cups of Turkish tea. I'm moving at full speed.

Which, I admit, is not that fast. There is a lot to keep up with. Sadie had her first piano lesson, it's almost time to plant radishes, and I'm working on some, well, let's just call them big projects.

And then there are the lawn signs. I never thought I'd see my name on the lawns of Great Barrington, but the signs are about to be in the mail, and if you have a prominently located lawn in this town, you could be the proud owner of one.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves here. I've been talking about the town budget and the future of the library all day. I know some people think I'm a little nutty for this, but I really like thinking about these things. But at the end of the day, I'm needing a break, just for a few minutes. I need to talk about that thing that makes my heart soar, makes my soul sing.

That's right. You know where I'm going. Let's talk about kitchen gadgets.


Today, it's not food processors or yogurt makers. I want to show you a little assortment of kitchen tools that I found at the bazaar in Istanbul. I know I've been back for a while, and I promise that once I get this out of my system, I'll stick to the goings on in my own kitchen. It's just that when I was wandering the tiny paths of the spice bazaar, the grand bazaar, and the wood bazaar, I kept seeing things that I wanted to show you. These are just the treats I stuffed into my suitcase. I wish I could show you the home smokers in the metal bazaar, but I couldn't take one back on the plane. I've got some pretty good ones, though.

This beauty is called the limonmatic. It screws into a lemon, and then you squeeze the lemon and pour out the juice. The most lovely thing about it, I think, is that you can squeeze a little bit of juice, snap the top on, and put the lemon back in the fridge. It basically turns a fresh lemon into one of those little plastic lemons that you can take a bit of juice out of here and there. Brilliant, isn't it? I know! But that's not all!


I have never seen so many beautiful wooden spoons in one place. I came home with a small variety, but this is my absolute favorite. A wooden slotted spoon! I love how the holes are so randomly placed, like the person who made it really wasn't paying attention. This spoon makes me smile every time I look at it.


This is a sieve. I haven't used it yet, but I look and it and adore it every day. If I don't use it soon, I'm going to have to figure out how to wear it. I don't know why things just aren't as pretty in kitchen shops over here.

And then there is the the rolling table. I saw this in use at the organic bazaar, and I told Molly that I was taking one of them home. Normally they are used by old Turkish grannies to make several traditional kinds of flatbreads. Lissa and I each bought one, and we carried them around Istanbul for the better part of a day, along with two extraordinarily long rolling pins. We got the best looks, and even some comments about the how funny it was that the tourists had bought grannie tables. I like to think that we got a lot of respect that day, but more likely people thought we were a bit crazy. Most Americans bring home rugs and silks from Turkey, but we went for rolling tables.

And here ends my career as a travel writer, for now at least. Thanks for taking this trip with me- I promise there will be more in the future. But back to the kitchen now, and to this little town.

popcorn

You know that I love a good kitchen gadget, but this is one of the most important ones I have. Some people grew up with an air popper, and the sparks that are bound to fly out of the outlet when you unplug it don't scare them.

I am happy to be one of those people. This courage provides me with an astounding parenting tool.

Popcorn.

Not from a bag, not from anything with a cancer causing lining, not even from a pot filled with oil that I have yet to master. Plug it in. If you make it through that, your golden.

When I am having one of those moments when I desire to be a perfect mother, but there is no way that I am going to achieve my dream, I make popcorn. I become an instant hero, create a party in the kitchen, and feed my kids a warm, homemade, incredibly cheap snack. It takes 3 minutes, and the process is better to watch than a silly you tube video that would buy you the same amount of peace. Your children will dance in the kitchen, and then they will eat whole grains. There are no downsides.

Until I have to unplug the thing again. I guess that's why the air popper cost me 17 dollars at the hardware store and looks like it was made in 1958. But I'm still here to tell the tale.

Gotta find someway to live dangerously, right?

My Sprouter

Okay, so I'm just the littlest bit embarrassed here. I've had my sprouter for quite a little while now, and I just haven't had the heart to mention it.
Let's face it, I'm just no Alice Waters. While she likes to whip egg whites by hand, preferring the silence of her whisk to the roar of the Kitchen Aid, I really like my gadgets. Yeah, you've heard it- you know about my yogurt maker and my hand blender. And have I mentioned that one of the main reasons I had a wedding in the first place was for the Kitchen Aid? (totally worth it, by the way)
But now I want to tell you about my sprouter. To be fair, this one's got a little story.
I've always been a sprout fan. As a picky kid, I used to eat whole boxes of alfafa sprouts at a time. That love has never left me. And I buy sprouts, and the kids eat them too, and I like too put pea shoots in everything, which seems to be appreciated.
So a few months ago, I start thinking, "Why am I spending a million bucks on these organic sprouts, when I can be sprouting at home?" And although I know a mason jar usually does the trick, those easy pioneer methods don't usually seem to work for me, hence the gadgets. And so I think some more.
And of course, the answer is quite prominent. Since childhood, I have known a man who goes by the name Sproutman. I babysat for his kids, I stuffed envelopes when his business was younger- it just never occurred to me to ask his advice on the question. And he is just the nicest guy- his whole family is wonderful. I think that it is all of those sprouts they eat.
So when I ran into Sproutman at the community center (or as I like to call it "the gym", just so I can say "I went to the gym today") I asked him if he would help me out.
"Of course!" he said. "Stop by the office- I'll set you up."
I thought maybe I'd walk away with one of his little sproutbags, or an instructional booklet or something. And I did. I walked away with all those things- and my sprouter.
Joey laughed. "Where the hell is that going?" he asked me.
I slouched, shrugged. "I'll find somewhere." I was a little embarrassed.
But this is the thing. It's awesome.
It's a little mini greenhouse, and it makes amazing sprouts out of everything. Well not everything, but pretty close. You spread the seeds on a tray, put it in the bucket, put that bucket on another bucket with water, and it waters itself, several times an hour, The little sprinkler turns, and it entertains your kids.


After a week, you have many many fresh and wonderful sprouts, and then you start again.
So now I've done it. I've told you about the sprouter. And I feel OK. I don't feel silly- I feel good about sharing this precious information with you. Unless you think I'm silly- do you? Then I might feel a little silly- but the sprouter is so great, I swear! OK, maybe I have to get over this one a little more. I'm not Alice Waters, but that's alright, I guess. Maybe someday I'll whip my eggwhites by hand...

Raw Milk Yogurt

I've been making yogurt for about a year now, and I thinking I'm ready to put the system down on paper (or screen if you will). This is my yogurt maker.

It is a Eurocuisine YM100. You can buy it from Amazon. It costs about forty bucks, and trust me it's definitely worth the ten bucks extra (over the thirty dollar YM80) for the automatic timer. I also suggest the you shell out the extra twenty bucks for a set of extra jars. Otherwise you have to wait for all the yogurt to be eaten in order to make your next batch. You also need a candy thermometer.

Many people make yogurt with nothing but a mason jar and a wood stove, but I just never could make that happen, and frankly, I'm a little in love with my yogurt maker.

OK, now you have your supplies. For one batch of yogurt, this is what you will need:

4 1/4 cups of milk (I use raw milk, but use what you like)
6 oz. plain fatty yogurt (more on this later)
4 T nonfat dry milk powder

So let's talk about these ingredients. Because I have access to some pretty wicked awesome raw milk, this is what I use. And the method that I will lay out for you is different from the one that comes in your yogurt maker instructions, because I don't want to heat it so much that I will kill all the good things in the raw milk. If you are using raw milk, you've already made this decision and you know all the things like how you should be absolutely sure of the perfection and cleanliness of the farm, etc., etc, so I won't go into that. This method, however, will also work with pasteurized milk, so don't stress it if that is what you want to use.
As for the yogurt in the recipe, this is your starter. If you buy a little thing of yogurt, you can use it as a starter, and then you can use one of that batch as your next starter. This is as far as you can go with it. So one little cup of yogurt will get you two cycles of starter. I have found that the absolute best starter is full fat Greek yogurt. It makes a huge difference.
You also need nonfat dry milk. Organic valley makes a decent one, or sometimes you can find it in the bulk section at the health food store. If you're going to use the low heat method that I set out here, you must include dry milk or else your yogurt will be runny. If you don't mind runny yogurt, by all means leave it out.

So here's the process. Heat your milk at a low temperature until it hits 110 degrees. This happens pretty quickly, so I'd stick close to the stove.


Empty your starter yogurt into a mixing bowl or large measuring cup. Add about 1c of warm milk, and the 4 T of dry milk. Whisk until fairly smooth. Don't worry if there are a few lumps.


Add this mixture back into the rest of the warm milk. Whisk until slightly frothy.

Pour entire mixture into a large measuring cup for easy pouring. Fill jars up to the top.


Leave the lids of the containers off, but put the lid of the machine on. Set the timer for eleven hours. Put the machine somewhere where it won't be nudged or disturbed.

After the eleven hours are up, put the lids on the jars and put them into the fridge. The yogurt will be ready in two hours.

A note on flavors: My experience has been that with homemade yogurt, it is best to make it plain. When more variables get introduced into the situation, the cultures can get a little screwy and sometimes even up and die on you. So make it plain, and then add yummy things to it afterwards.