Category Archives: food and cooking

A visit from Maggie and Pearl.

I’m still enjoying the afterglow of having Pearl and her daughter Maggie here for a couple of days last week. Just we three, three generations, happy to be together, however briefly. I don’t think I mentioned at the time that Maggie came by herself for two nights last May; on her way home from college she stopped here.

This time they were headed back in the other direction. We shopped a little bit for things she’ll need in her dorm suite, and Maggie took her car for an oil change. We cooked a lot, and it is so fun to cook with helpers who go on to appreciate everything on the table. Other times, Pearl very wisely suggested sitting outdoors with our tea or whatever, and there is nothing like being in the garden with people I love.

One afternoon Maggie told us mysteriously that she was going to run a quick errand, and when she came back she was bringing three It’s It ice cream sandwiches. It seems these treats aren’t available except in California.

The weather was fairly warm, but Maggie and Pearl had come from a hotter and more humid Wisconsin, so no one was bothered much. We ate the goodies on the patio, at dusk. It typically cools off here even before the sun sets, so to be gifted a rare balmy evening, coordinated perfectly with our desire to sit out in the most leisurely way — that was the icing on the cake, or the ice cream between the oatmeal cookies.

There had been cake, too, which I’d baked beforehand in honor of both their birthdays, belatedly. I used a Lemon Buttermilk Sheet Cake recipe from America’s Test Kitchen, which I found on someone else’s site, and changed just a little bit. It used the zest and juice of three whole lemons, and was the best lemon cake I’ve ever eaten. I forgot to take a picture, and I sent the leftovers along with Maggie.

Maggie got the idea to make lavender lemonade: She used several lemons from my tree, and dried lavender flowers I had sitting on the kitchen counter. It was just the right amount of sugar, and the nicest accent of lavender — yum! I sent her back to school with a few more lemons, and a lavender plant in a pot, for her balcony. So it was a pretty lemony visit all around, with plenty of sweetness to bring out the flavor.

Joaquin Sorolla, My Wife and Daughters in the Garden

Old baker, fresh starter.

In the last year or so, I changed my mind about bread baking. I think it was in 2019 that I had decided not to bake bread — any more! Even though I’d been baking all kinds of yeast breads for most of my life. That was okay for a while, but recently, I realized it just didn’t feel right, to eliminate that art and craft entirely.

I planned to get back into making sourdough loaves, but week after week I never made time to assemble the ingredients for the “pre-ferment” that would collect wild yeasts from the air. Then when I was at my daughter Pippin’s earlier this month, I found that she had a good one going. She was happy to share it with me, so I moved half of her starter to a new quart jar and fed both jars a couple of times while I was there, and then brought the one home.

Today I used it to make a “sponge,” by combining one cup of the starter with two cups of water and three cups of (rye) flour. I will let that ferment for a couple of days and hope to bake just one loaf from it this week. Part of the reason I had given up bread baking was that I had too much bread to use or give away; the solution to that would be to make one loaf at a time — which I am certainly not accustomed to doing.

After I set the bowl of small sponge on the table, I went off to the church kitchen to help bake our special holy bread called prosphora. And today is my name day, on which I remember St. Joanna the Myrrhbearer. That’s three things that make me happy, and if I hadn’t been so busy about them, I might have figured out a way to tie the threads together for a blog post, the way I made a sponge out of several parts. If the bread turns out well, possibly it will be the unifying loaf.

2018

Existing in the middle is best.

THURSDAY

Because the most difficult part about making something, also the best,
Is existing in the middle,
Sustaining an act of radical imagination,
I simmered a broth: onion, lemon, a big handful of mint.

The phone rang. So with my left
Hand I answered it,
Sautéing the rice, then adding the broth
Slowly, one ladle at a time, with my right. What’s up?

The miracle of risotto, it’s easy to miss, is the moment when the husks dissolve,
Each grain of rice releasing its tiny explosion of starch.

If you take it off the heat just then, let it sit
While you shave the parmesan into paper-thin curls,
It will be perfectly creamy,
But will still have a bite.

There will be dishes to do,
The moon will rise,
And everyone you love will be safe.

-James Longenbach

 

 

Springtime garden soup.

One night this week I had friends to dinner, and it was a lot of fun to plan the menu, which in this case included a soup course. I always intend to make cream of asparagus soup at least once in springtime, but don’t usually get to it, even though I harvest several pounds of that vegetable from my front yard plot for a few weeks running. Having someone to share it with gave me the added push.

So I used my own asparagus, and an equal amount of leeks from the store — just over a pound each, chopped. I sautéed them together in butter with fresh tarragon leaves, also from my garden. Just before everything started to brown, I removed the flower tips of the asparagus to a little bowl, and stirred in a couple of tablespoons of flour. I added a quart of chicken stock and cooked all of that together for 10-15 minutes, then used an immersion blender to make it smooth. Added salt and pepper to taste. After I’d ladled it into bowls I dropped a few of the reserved asparagus tips on top of each serving. We were all deep in conversation at that point so the thought of taking a picture of the lovely green soup never came into my head. (I also forgot that I’d planned to drizzle on a little cream.) But earlier I had noticed the beauty of the panful of chopped vegetables and leaves…

You will have to imagine the look of the creamy green soup.
We stopped talking and slurped it up joyfully.