Keeping It Clean

Believe me, I'm as surprised about this post as you are. Over the past few months, I have been barely keeping my head above water and have had little to post about, since I have basically been doing jack shit around the farm. But that's all changing. We'll talk about that later. Though I have forgone most of my "making it from scratch" schtick to Trader Joe's convenience (it just had to be), I realized there was one thing I just couldn't give up on. Homemade laundry detergent.

My sister-in-law, Stephanie, gave me this recipe for the liquid version and I cannot live without the stuff anymore after having thoroughly enjoyed my first batch, which, I might add, took almost 5 months to use up. Though skeptical of its effectiveness, my SIL's husband, who works in the restaurant business, is the true testament to how well this soap gets the job done. If this detergent can get out restaurant grease, then it can certainly take care of my dirt. And boy, has it!

Once I tell you how easy it is to make, if you aren't on the make-your-own-laundry-soap bandwagon already, you're going to kick yourself for not having tried it before. And the savings! I think it comes out to be about 2 cents per load. How can you beat that?

Liquid Laundry Soap

1 bar of soap (I used Kirk's Castille with my first batch and my own homemade goat's milk soap with this last one, which is why the color is kind of orangey - I put calendula in my soaps)
1 cup Borax
1 cup Washing Soda (not baking soda)
3 gallons + 1 quart water

Grate bar of soap. In a pot, combine the quart of water with soap flakes. Heat until soap is melted, but the water is not boiling. Add the borax and washing soda and stir until it thickens. In a clean 5 gallon bucket, pour in 3 gallons of warm water. Add the contents of the pot and mix well. Leave the mixture to stand overnight. It will thicken and become kind of lumpy and gelatinous. Don't worry, it's supposed to look like that. Stir before use. I use a big paddle; my SIL uses a broom handle.

Now you have lots of soap to clean your nasty, filthy clothes. Easy peasy, no? Truth be told, my ultimate motivating factor for making this detergent the second time was when I realized that it would actually be more of an effort to walk the half block to the store and stand in line to purchase it. You can't argue with that. Trust me, I tried.

I have heard that some folks have had trouble finding washing soda. I get mine at the local coop and have seen it in "regular" grocery stores from time to time. But did you know that you can actually MAKE the stuff from baking soda? Yeah, that shit blew my mind. Apparently, this is due to their close similarity in chemical composition, but to explain that would make me have to get all sciencey and shit, and that's actually beyond me at the moment. So here's a link on how to do it. I found out about this neat little trick through Lori's Latest - And other tales from the homestead. She's got fabulous tips and interesting things that she posts on her Facebook page. Go "like" it and tell her Itty Bitty sent you.








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It's Nog Season

I feel strange talking about the most glorious seasonal drink in a post directly following one on harvesting a melon, but such is life here in our temperate coastal town. The holidays are upon us and that can mean only one thing to me: eggnog. Fuck the turkey, the pies, the carb laden meals, the gifts, the holiday spirit... whatevs. I love me some frothy, creamy, rich eggnog. Without alcohol. Hey, when you're consuming a quart of this stuff every one to three days, the last thing you need is to be a drunk in addition to clogging the arteries.

And I'm not exaggerating about my consumption levels. But fortunately for my inner highways and byways, we're only getting about two eggs per day here on the farm. So that means I can only drink a quart every three days, at the most, with the recipe I use. Here it is for those looking to overindulge, but not be butt ass wasted this holiday season.

Eggnog (for your inner teetotaler)

6 eggs
3 cups full fat milk or half milk, half cream
8 Tbsp. sugar
1 Tbsp. good quality vanilla extract
1/4 tsp. nutmeg

First, whip the shit out of those eggs with an electric mixer. I don't make a cooked version of eggnog because... well... I'm lazy and I know that my eggs are fine raw. If you are buying yours from the supermarket, I'd go with cooking. Some recipes call for separating the eggs and beating the yolks and whites individually before combining again. Sounds like extra work to me so I don't do it. Next, beat the sugar into the fluffy eggs with the mixer. Add the milk. Since the milk I get from the goats is so high in butterfat, I don't bother with cream. The egg and dairy products here are plenty rich to make a thick enough beverage. Again, if you are shopping at the supermarket, you'll probably want to add some cream to get the right noggy consistency. Blend in the vanilla - don't skimp on quality here, we all know how nasty low grade vanilla extract can taste - and the nutmeg until fully combined.




Chill and enjoy! I add mine to coffee and the copious amounts of black tea that I drink. A small glass is also a lovely before bedtime treat. I usually let the daughter have a glass a day and lucky me, the husband will only have a taste now and again in his coffee. The rest is all mine. ALL mine.




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Aunt Ella's Cucumber Chip Pickles

I'm pleased to say that I have been able to squeeze out a few jars of pickles from my hoop house cucumbers. Having never successfully grown cukes in San Francisco, I am beside myself with glee that I have put up a whole four jars of pickles. There should be plenty more to come if the powdery mildew stays at bay.

Every year, my great aunt Ella would make thickly sliced sweet pickles for her husband Walter, brother to my grandfather and fellow dairy farming Swiss immigrant. Apparently, uncle Walter couldn't live without them. My mother would occasionally spend a week with Ella and Walter during the summer. On one of her visits, she learned to make these relish tray delights.

Aunt Ella's Cucumber Chip Pickles

Put 12-15 large, whole cucumbers in a crock. Pour boiling water over them every day for three days. Drain each day before adding new batch of boiling water.




On the fourth day, slice cucumbers into 1/2" thick slices and pour over them a boiling syrup made of

• 8 cups sugar
• 4 cups cider vinegar
• 5 tsp. salt
• 2 Tbsp. pickling spices

Let stand two days. Drain syrup and bring to a boil. Pack jars with cucumber slices and pour boiling syrup over cukes. Process in water bath for 15 minutes.




I know the five day thing sounds like a chore, but these pickles are really very simple to make.  Don't let the lengthy soaking time dissuade you from trying to whip up a batch. What I love most about these pickles is that they remain crunchy due to the thick slices. They are super tasty too, but then I've always been a sucker for a sweet pickle.

A few years back, my mother made a book for me and my siblings with all of my grandmother's favorite recipes. The cucumber chip pickle was among them. Not only does the recipe book catalog the things my grammy liked to cook, it also contains little remembrances and thoughts that my mother included. I especially like what my mother had to say after Aunt Ella's pickle recipe.

There is really nothing that compares to a homemade pickle. I think it is a lost art. Most of us are too busy to garden, much less can or preserve the produce. I stopped in 1978 or 1979 - just got too busy with the activities of kids. I have started to make the lime sweets again - out of desperation to make good potato salad, egg salad, etc.

I love you mom. Thank you for all that you've passed on to me, particularly the ability to make a decent pickle.


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Apricotastic

By far, apricot preserves are my absolute favorite. As I dip my spoon into each luscious jar, it's like eating silky globs of sunshine. I think I've mentioned before that I'm not much of a fan of the apricot in its raw state. Too mealy. But boy, oh boy, when it's cooked up and smushed up with heaps and heaps of sugar, heaven awaits on the tip of every bite.

Some folks use pectin in their apricot jam and I can't quite figure out why, unless they're looking for something more akin to Jello. One of the greatest attributes of the apricot is that it gets to the perfect consistency without any other ingredients aside from sugar. And the fact that the apricot is a breeze to pit makes this fruit all the more appealing for putting up.

As I mentioned in my last post, I am branching out into adventurous tongue-tickling territories. To mess with my most beloved took some bravery on my part. But I pressed forth, exploring worlds yet unknown to my palate. I am more than ecstatic with the results as I believe I may have perfected perfection with this round of jamming.

Apricot Tangelo Jam

This jam turned out much like my standard apricot jam in which I usually use an orange. I substituted a tangelo, because it was what I had on hand, without out any significant alteration to the flavor.

2.5 lbs. apricots
3 cups sugar
Juice and zest of 1 tangelo



Apricot Grapefruit Jam


This was it. This was the ultimate taste accentuation I have been looking for in an apricot jam, even though I had no idea that I was ever looking for it in the first place. I had a couple grapefruits on the counter that were starting to pucker up like the mouth of an old man who had lost his teeth. Maybe they weren't that bad, but they were certainly acquiring a few wrinkles. The slight revision with a more bitter, yet still sweet, citrus took this already perfect preserve into another stratosphere. From now on, this will be my standard apricot jam that I make each year.

2.5 lbs. apricots
3 cups sugar
Juice and zest of 1 ruby grapefruit

Apricot Ginger Jam

I hate to say it, but I think this one might be as good as the apricot grapefruit. I had my doubts, fearing that the ginger would be overwhelming. How wrong was I? Even the husband thought it was fantastic and he doesn't care that much for ginger. I can't wait to slather it on some homemade scones.

2.5 lbs. apricots
3 cups sugar
freshly grated ginger to taste (I think I used about 1-1.5 tablespoons)

Anyone else out there adore apricot jam as much as I do?

Cherrypalooza

I must be some kind of masochist to have taken on pitting 21 pounds of cherries. By hand. No pitters over here. No sirree, Bob. Just good old fashioned do-it-yourself lunacy. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. I sat in front of the boob tube ensconced in several layers of towels to prevent the deep red spray of these juicy suckers from staining the couch. Took me a few hours, but Jane Austen got me through the trials and tribulations. I should have thought to cover the computer as I'm having to look past the drips in order to type this post.

So what does one do with 21 pounds of cherries?




A lot. This year, I'm pushing past my tendencies to veer towards the safe, plain, tried and true preserves. New preserving territory will be explored. Flavors will be experimented with. I'm sure my cautious nature stems from the fact that jamming and preserving are a lot of work. Aside from the pitting, there is the several hours that you will spend hovering over a hot stove. Who wants to have put in all that time and effort producing something that might taste nasty?

So far, throwing caution to the wind has paid off. Four types of cherry preserves were put up and they all turned out scrumptious.




Here are the recipes and results.

Cherry Lisbon Lemon Jam

Lisbon lemons have a hint of lime flavor to them, which gave the jam a good citrus tang. The following is the list of ingredients I used. You can find general preserving instructions here.

7 cups cherries
5 1/4 cups sugar
zest and juice from 2 Lisbon lemons

Combine all ingredients and simmer until setting point. Be careful not to overcook. The above link tells you that you will need to use pectin in order to get cherries to set. I have not found that to be the case, however with berries and cherries that there is a fine line between jelling and carmelization. I have a tendency to cook these jams for too long and end up with a preserve that once refrigerated is so firm that moving a knife through it is harder than wading through setting cement. While cooking, put a dish in the freezer so that you can pull it out and test for jelling by pouring a glob on the frozen plate (turn off burner when testing so that you don't overcook). Once cooled, the jam should wrinkle when you push your finger into it. When jelled, process in water bath according to instructions in above link.

Cherry Kirsch Jam

Lucky me, I had a bottle of real kirsch sitting around.  It was brought to me several years ago by a friend who was visiting from Germany. Since I don't drink, it has sat on my shelf unopened for at least three years. I could think of no finer way to use it (except maybe in fondue) than with cherries. The kirsch made a fine sweet jam with an added kick.

7 cups cherries
5 1/4 cups sugar
a shot or more of kirsch, depending on taste

Unlike the cherry lemon jam, you don't want to add the flavoring ingredient until the end of cooking. Once the jam has reached its set, add the kirsch.

Cherry Olives

I found this recipe in one of the old Ortho Books (ironically owned by Chevron Chemical Company) on pickling.

2 pounds sweet cherries (either pitted or left whole and pricked with a pin)
salt
sugar
vinegar

Wash cherries and put in hot, sterilized jars. If using pint jars, add 1 tsp. salt, 1 tsp. sugar, and 1/2 cup of vinegar (I used apple cider vinegar) to each jar (for have pints use half of the measurements). Fill the rest of the jar with water. Process in water canning bath for 5 minutes. Refrigerate and let jars stand about 1 month before using so that the flavor can develop.

Five Spice Cherry Pickles

I got this awesome recipe over at Leena Eats blog. If you love cherries, you should try this one. They are seriously addictive. I used apple cider vinegar rather than the called for white vinegar and really like the flavor.




Are you doing anything interesting with cherries this year?

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Guest Blog: Thank-You Nuts

I had the distinct pleasure of meeting a lovely young chicken-owning neighbor, Reilly O'Neal. She came over for a tour a couple weeks ago and we found that we had a lot in common: one daughter, former anthropologists, worked/work in AIDS research, both interested in homesteading. As a gift, she brought with her the most amazing nuts I had ever tasted. I literally could not stop eating them. Right then and there, I demanded that she write a blog post divulging the secret recipe, arguing that the people of the world could not go one more second without tasting these treats. OK, it wasn't that dramatic, but I was persuasive. And seriously, you MUST try this recipe. 

When I visited Itty Bitty Farm in the City for the first time, I brought some homemade candied walnuts to thank Heidi for letting a total stranger pet her goats and ask a bunch of invasive questions about keeping it together as an urban farmer, parent, and spouse.

Sure, walnuts are full of alpha-lino-whatever acid and are a superfood and all, but I wasn’t really thinking of Heidi’s omega-3 intake when I decided they’d make a good gift. I was thinking about where those nuts came from, the love and labor that went into shelling them, and my family’s traditions around that labor.

As a kid, living in Fresno with my mom and her parents—longtime farmers from Texas—I helped shell walnuts and pecans with a nut cracker my grandfather rigged up by hand. My grandmother turned 90 in January and that nut cracker is on the far side of thirty; both are going strong. Granny shelled two hundred pounds of walnuts last year—down from her usual three hundred, she says, because the grower’s son just took over the business and forgot to set aside her full share.

Every time my mom and I meet at Granny’s house, we all crack walnuts until our arms and fingers hurt, taking turns yanking the wooden lever and picking nut halves out of the busted hulls. My mother and I get pounds and pounds of hand-shelled walnuts for birthdays and Christmas and whenever Granny thinks we need more, like when I became a mom myself.

In the first days after our baby girl was born, my mother kept my dazed little family from starving. She fed me spinach salads chock full of “Granny walnuts” she’d jazzed up with spices and her homemade candied orange peel. Nothing before or since has tasted so incredibly delicious, like salty, orangey love. Was that my new-mama oxytocin talking, or just some pretty kick-ass candied walnuts? Recipe follows—you be the judge!

These are easy enough to make with a toddler pin-balling around your kitchen, and I’ve adapted the recipe for either candied peel or fresh zest—which, I now know, is not just a snooty word for orange peel! (It’s the orange part, minus the white pith.) I’ve tried this recipe with walnuts, pecans, and almonds, and the walnuts are my hands-down favorite.

Hope you enjoy!

Kick-Ass Orange-Spiced Walnuts

Makes 2 1/2 cups

Ingredients:

1 egg white

1/4 cup sugar, minus 1 teaspoon if using candied peel

1 1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon ground chipotle or other chili powder

1/4 teaspoon ground cumin

2 1/2 cups walnuts

Very finely grated zest from two medium oranges (about 2 teaspoons) OR 2 1/4 tablespoons finely chopped candied orange peel

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 300 degrees. Beat the egg white until soft and foamy, with no liquid left in the bottom of the bowl. Combine the sugar, salt, and spices; stir into the egg white, along with the orange zest or candied peel. Add the nuts and stir until well coated. Spread the nuts in a single layer on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper. Using a rubber spatula, scrape together all the zest-spice -egg goo left in the bowl, and drizzle it over the nuts.

2. Bake for 15 minutes, then remove from the oven. Separate the nuts and stir them around a bit, then spread in a single layer again. (It’s OK to skip this step if you’re pressed for time.) Turn the oven down to 250 degrees and immediately return nuts to bake until they are golden brown and not raw-tasting, about 10 to 20 minutes. (Don’t worry if they’re not crunchy at this point; they’ll crisp up as they cool down.) Set the pan on a wire rack to cool, and break up any nuts that are stuck together. Burn your fingers eating them straight off the pan, or let them cool completely and store in an airtight container.

Pop Tart (Coq) au Vin

The time had come to honor the circle of life here at Itty Bitty. Pop Tart had been marinating in the freezer for six months and Monica, the Irish lass who found the poor divil lying dead at the foot of the coop, is off to her motherland for the summer. Clearly, a bon voyage party, with Pop Tart at the helm, was called for. But what to do with a stewing hen?

Ask around and you'll get a lot of naysayers to the eating of an aged egg layer. They'll tell you that the meat isn't fit for consumption; that it will be tough and stringy and disgusting. Well I'm here to tell you that they are wrong, wrong, wrongity wrong.

The folks that think a stewing hen is inedible are the ones who are attempting to prepare it like a broiler. That doesn't work. Broiler chickens, the kind that you buy at the store tidily wrapped in clinging plastic and styrofoam, are harvested at around eight weeks. Eight weeks, people! The incredible rate of growth is mind-boggling, unless you see it firsthand. Think about it. That creature hatches at only a few ounces and then puts on nearly a pound of weight a week. Those muscles that end up on your dinner plate probably haven't even been properly stretched. Talk about fresh, young meat. But of course a hen or rooster that has been running around the yard for a couple years will be a tad more rough and tumble in taste and texture, the tenderness and succulence of adolescence long gone. The secret to preparing one of these old cluckers is the same as with any tough cut of meat: cook the shit out of it for a really really long time under low heat.


I knew that I would have to find a tried and true recipe to prepare Pop Tart's thin frame so I turned to Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall, British author of the award winning The River Cottage Meat Book, my crockpot, and the French. Coq au vin, as the name suggests, obviously descends from the French. Long considered a peasant dish, an old rooster who was losing his abilities between the legs would be cast into the stewing pot along with some wine, onions, mushrooms, salt pork and a bouquet garni. The lengthy cooking period broke down the tough connective tissues that tend to build up in older, active birds, creating a tasty and inexpensive meal. My modern version utilizes my crockpot for the slow, low temp cooking. Today, coq au vin is most often prepared with broilers and cooked for shorter periods of time. What a waste, I say. Let's create a stewing hen revival. I know Hugh is on board. He has several videos (look for more info in my next post) on his experience as a small holder, of which the American translation would probably be "hobby farmer", where he advocates for using all of one's resources in a sensible, holistic manner. He would never let an old rooster or hen go to naught.

Hugh's recipes have never steered me wrong so I went with a variation on his coq au vin.

Ingredients:

• old laying hen
• onions
• a couple bulbs of green garlic
• 1/2 pound button mushrooms
• 1/2 pound bacon
• half a glass of brandy
• 2 cups red wine (I used Bogle's Merlot)
• 2 cups water
• a bouquet garni of celery, parsley, thyme, and bay leaf
• pepper to taste

First I quartered the hen. Her meat looked fantastic, though there wasn't a lot of it. And did you know that chickens have hair? Like really long hair, almost four inches! I guess it's tucked in between the feathers. How that stuff gets plucked out is a mystery to me. Pop Tart still had most of hers. I figured they would cook off, which happened to be the case. Next I chopped up the bacon into small pieces and fried it. While the bacon drained, I sauteed the onions and green garlic in the bacon grease. Then I placed both the bacon and onions in the crockpot. I dredged the quartered chicken in flour and browned it in the same pan that I had cooked the bacon and onions in. After the skin got a nice crisp coating, I poured the brandy over the chicken while tipping the pan so that it would light on fire. When the flames died down, I transferred the pieces to the crockpot and added the wine to the pan to deglaze all the goodness. As soon as the wine bubbled, I poured it into the crockpot and added a little pepper. I set the crockpot to low for six hours. After about four, I added the bouquet garni. Then one hour before the chicken was done, I sauteed the mushrooms (sliced) in a little butter and moved them into the crock as soon as they developed a good sweat.

Little Pop Tart strutted across the stage of existence one last time in a serving vessel fit for a queen (one of my finest thrift store finds).

We served her with a lovely spread of homegrown artichoke hearts, homegrown pickled carrots, pickled beets, and grilled asparagus. Her flesh, atop heaps and heaps of mash, transformed into a toothsome meal good enough for any king.

And we, the court, made merry one last time before our summer apart.

What will I do without my farm sitter?

Kitchen Madness

It's that time of year when the oven is running full steam ahead and the sink is piled with a mound of dishes that no matter how much washing goes on, never seems to decrease in size. Yes, canning season is upon us and a lot of the things that are in season will only last a few weeks at best. With pots and jars ready at the front, the food marathon is on in our counter space challenged kitchen.

Fruity Goodness

Those precious peaches, nectarines, apricots, and cherries don't have a very long season around here, so we've been stocking up from our favorite farmers market fruit stand (cheapest organic fruit at the market) and making all kinds of jams, cobblers, pies, and ice cream with our hand cranked Donvier that we snagged at the thrift store for eight bucks. Whatever cherries didn't go into this gorgeous pie, the lattice topping compliments of my six year old (didn't she do a great job?),

or into the several pints of cherry, chocolate, pistachio ice cream that we've been non-stop churning out

2 cups cherries blended

2 eggs well beaten

1/2 cup sugar

1 1/2 cups half and half

1 cup heavy cream

1/4 tsp. vanilla

* mix together and then add

1/2 cup pistachios

1/2 cup chocolate shavings

1 cup cherry chunks

* prepare according to ice cream maker instructions

I froze. They'll come in handy later when in season fruit is scarce.

I'm so bummed that I didn't get my flat of apricots that I ordered from my CSA this year. Their apricots really do make the best butter. But I did save enough from my weekly boxes that I was able to squeeze out four jars. Needless to say, I won't be sharing. Sorry.

This year I tried something a little different: peach jam with honey, which wasn't strictly peach or any one variety for that matter - I included both white and yellow peaches and nectarines. The cheap fruit is great, but it all tends to ripen at the same time, needing to be used up because it is attracting fruit flies, thus the mixed up jam. The flavor is fantastic and a bit more complex than my usual fare. I'll definitely make it again this way. Goes great on muffins made from a recipe that I got from one of my kitchen bibles, The Country Mothers Cookbook by Jane Watson Hopping, a.k.a. The Pioneer Lady. If you have a penchant for old, old school home cooking, this lady's recipes are for you. I haven't made any dish from her books that I didn't love.

Berrilicious

Berries have a longer season in our area than the stone fruits, so it wasn't crucial that I move into high gear on this one. But as I was on a roll, I figured "what the hey," let's just get it done while the iron's hot, as they say. The blueberry jam came out perfect, but I think I burned the sugar on the ollalieberry (a similar berry to blackberries, but bigger). I doubled the recipe without using pectin and had to cook it for too long to get it to sheet. Oh well. Live and learn. I still have strawberry jam from last year - it's not our favorite - so I won't need to make any this season. We are needing to replenish the frozen strawberries and strawberry syrup though. I use the syrup to flavor yogurt, since it's one of those foods that always seems to have unecessary ingredients added to it..

I would love to say that all this fruit comes from our backyard, but since our fruit trees are in their first year, the ollalieberry vines didn't make it, and the blueberry bushes are looking mighty sad, we buy our berries in bulk from either the farmers market or Swanton Berry Farm's u-pick.

Only Ute and I went to the u-pick this year and let me tell you, she was a real trooper. It took us about 3 hours to get all of our strawberries and ollalieberries that will see us through the year, a challenge for any young tyke. But Ute took it in stride, and when she got bored with berries, she made altars for the fairies and ran up and down the rows of tangled vines.

Living in a city, Ute just doesn't get enough running around outside time with limited supervision. At her age, I was roaming my small town neighborhood with barely a hint of the adult gaze upon me. I am saddened that she will never experience that kind of freedom, but trips to the farm give her the occasional taste.

Luscious Lemons

Last week I was at my friend Christine's house in Alameda when out of her second story bedroom window I spotted the most exquisite Meyer lemons. Their plump, juicy yellowness at the zenith of ripeness beckoned to me and as if in a dream, I floated towards the glass. The next thing I knew, I was hanging out the window, plucking the sweet scented spheres and chucking them onto the bed. I wrasseled that tree in full Crocodile Hunter style, with a ferocity that only a true champion of the Meyer lemon could exhibit. My friend found me draped over a tree limb with only my knees planted firmly against the edge of the sill to prevent a 15 plus foot fall. With slack-jawed bemusement, Christine admitted that she had been trying to figure out how to get those lemons for years. I felt like MacGyver.

The lemons were pretty darn ripe and needed to have something done with them and fast. I went with the Moroccan salt preservation method. They'll be great in a late summer tagineperfumey foods, though Ute and I thought it was delicious.

Flowerama

Speaking of flowers, I've been making syrups with the backyard lavender and roses. The lavender syrup is definitely a touch too heady, but I think it might work over a pound cake.

The neighbor's had a whole mess of roses that were getting eaten up by earwigs so I harvested the petals and made rose syrup. Tastes great in hot tea. With the way I consume the Queen's drink, however, I doubt that the jar will last two weeks!

Poultrypalooza

I've been preparing a lot of poultry lately and as most of you know, I'm not one to waste any bit of the bird. At a recent dinner party, I believe I actually screeched at my guests to not throw away the bones. Clearly I won't be winning any "hostess of the year" awards in the near future. In my book, nothing compares to the rich broth that comes from simmering the bones of a well spiced, roasted bird. The flavor of the broth reflects the way the the meat was prepared and the types of seasonings used, creating a stock that is always unique. At this point, I can't even bear to use canned stock, its flavor so inferior as to be nearly inedible. If you've never made your own broth, just try it. It's easier than you might think. I just throw the carcass or bones into a roasting pan, fill up with water, and simmer in a 350 oven for several hours, checking, of course, that the water doesn't completely evaporate.

At same said dinner party, while attempting to dazzle my companions with my special Moroccan chicken, I forgot to pull a roast duck out of the oven that was taking longer to cook than I had expected. Well I cooked the crap out of that duck, consequently feeling an utter failure with my first attempt to prepare this kind of bird. In the midst of me wailing on and on about the damn duck, one of my lovely guests turned to me and with a tone of seriousness that I can only liken to a military command said "I'll tell you how you are going to fix that duck." I snapped out of my little pity party. "How?" "You're going to make a confit by shredding the meat and marinating it in the fat from the pan." "Are you sure that will work? Won't it still be tough?" I queried. "No way," says my pragmatic friend, "It's going to be soooo succulent with all that duck fat." And then she did this lip smacking thing that was kind of gross. But she was right. It was scrumptious enough to make slightly disgusting gestures and sound effects with one's face.


Fermenting Fools


Did you hear that stores are pulling Kombucha from the shelves because they're worried about the alcohol content? Apparently, it might be more boozy than once thought. I'm thinking the whole thing is a bit overblown. I've had my fair share of experiences with alcohol and am no stranger to its effects, even if I no longer partake. Though I have felt a little "high" after drinking Kombucha, I certainly have never felt remotely drunk, even being the light weight that I am.

Frankly, I'm stunned that folks will lay down three plus bucks for a small bottle of the stuff from Whole Foods when you can make gallons of it for pennies. And the making is really not complicated. When I started my SCOBY (Symbiotic Colony of Bacteria and Yeast), I had my panties all in a stir, worried that I was going to mess it up and poison myself with some unwanted mold, but it's really as simple as making a pot of tea. A POT OF TEA! Really. I'm totally not exaggerating.


Ute and I really like the stuff, so we've got two cultures going at the same time. Esteban says he'll just stick with his beer that he's been home brewing (details to come). Fine, more for us I say.

What have you all got going on in the kitchen right now?

Ground Score

I am a bona fide, true blue, thriftaholic, garage-estate sale-ing, street scrounging pack rat. Drives the DF nuts. I can't help it. There is nothing I would rather do than sift for precious nuggets of discarded goodness hidden in the massive mounds of crap that fill our wealthy urban environs, a veritable goldmine for us bottom feeders. In a city where the rivers of unwanted junk flow like a flooded mountain stream after a spring snow melt, you must have rules, otherwise you would end up buried under an avalanche of your own making like on that TV show about hoarders that I can't quite muster the courage to watch. Contrary to what my DF might tell you, I don't bring just any stray knick knack into my house. Like I said, there are rules.

1. Don't purchase or pick up anything that needs to be repaired. I have occasionally made exceptions, like in the case of a good piece of furniture that just needs a bit of TLC, but for the most part I avoid this trap. I have learned through personal experience that these are the items that tend to cobweb up the house.
2. Don't pay more than $10 for something unless it is super, super, SUPER cool.
3. Don't buy something that is only "kind of" what you're looking for. Hold out for the real McCoy.
4. Never pick up something off the sidewalk that cannot be washed or disinfected. 

Last week I broke the rules. On the walk home from picking up my daughter at school, I stumbled on one of those recipe collecting folders, lying on the sidewalk in a pile of mildewing clothing and random papers and books that were sullied beyond recognition. It had a great cover, circa 1981, of a country kitchen still life, complete with rolling pin and wire egg basket. How could I resist? Well, other than the fact that the folder and its contents were a touch damp from all the rains we've been having. I knew that taking this musty booty home would violate at least two of my above rules, but when I saw that most of the recipes contained real food ingredients rather than a load of processed, canned crud, I snatched it up and brought it home to air out. 

I pulled out the limp recipe cards with the kind of care reserved for handling antiques and spread them around the dining room and kitchen. What a find! As I meandered through the culinary world of this unknown soul who had discarded these recipes with as much thought as one might give to junk mail, I was struck by a pang of guilt as if I had stolen something that wasn't rightfully mine. All of these handwritten cards, yellowed with age and stained with use, seemed so intimate and personal. I inherited my grandmother's old, spill-splattered recipes and I treasure them above all of my cookbooks combined. They tell the story of the daily life of my family at a time when I was not around to share in the eat, drink, and conversation. These recipes are a soupcon of a glimpse into that world. I know what my grammy liked to cook based on how thick of a coating of batter is stuck to the page. It's a small thread connecting me to a person that I didn't have a lot of time with in this life. When I use my grandmother's recipe books, I feel as if I am cooking with her or touching some part of her and her life that is now gone.

So from where I'm standing, I can't figure out why someone would dump a bunch of well loved recipes in the street like a used tissue. Aren't other people the least bit sentimental for old family dishes or am I just corny that way? Well this eggnog pie looks positively delish so I'm more than happy to be an overly schmaltzy kind of gal if this personality quirk scores me some quality sh*#.

How about a lamb and lentil soup with beer?

End of Winter Comfort Food

We are so fortunate here in coastal California to have a year round growing season. While the rest of the country is buried under a couple feet of snow, we can usually find something green and edible sprouting up in the garden. Currently, our CSA is providing us with loads of leeks, beets, carrots, cabbage, greens, broccoli, winter squash, and cauliflower. The Disgruntled Farmhand and daughter turn their noses up at over half these items. I'm sure many of you out there are all too familiar with the challenges of feeding picky eaters so I thought I'd send along a few tasty recipes that go over well at Itty Bitty.

A Wonderful Winter Salad


I came up with this salad with the need to clear out some of the veggies that were piling up in the fridge. This was a great way to get some cabbage into the more finicky folks around here and to add some dazzling color to the table.

ingredients:

• orange beets
• carrots
• purple cabbage
• apples
• pecans
• maple syrup
• olive oil
• balsamic vinegar
• salt
• pepper
• feta (optional)
  

Peel and shred beets, carrots, and apple. Thinly slice cabbage. Toss with good quality olive oil, balsamic, salt, and pepper to taste. While flavors mingle in salad, cover pecans with maple syrup and roast in the oven for 10-15 minutes. Top salad with pecans. For a bit of decadence, add some feta cheese.

Roasted Chicken Soup with Leeks


Have you been tossing out your roast chicken carcasses? Shame on you if you have. Nothing beats a stock made from one when it comes to depth of flavor. (Handy tip: if you don't have time to make stock, throw the carcass in the freezer. Having a stock making day is a fantastic time saver for those of us who prefer homemade stock.)

But the real secret to this recipe is the way the leeks are prepared. My dear friend Joe Evans, a former cook at Chez Panisse, taught me how to properly cook leeks. Prior to this lesson, I consistently charred my leeks to the point of being inedible. It would always happen so fast, regardless of how high I set the flame. Joe explained to me that leeks are very fibrous and need time to break down. He suggested sauteing them covered, using half butter and half water for approximately 15-30 minutes under a low flame. This gives them an abundant amount of time to lose their woodiness and caramelize.

ingredients:

• carcass of leftover roast chicken
  
• a couple leeks
• carrots
• celery (optional)
• potatoes (optional)
• greens of some sort (optional)
  
• 2/3 cup of rice
• butter
  
• seasoning salt (I use something like Lawry's or my own mixture that resembles it.)
• pepper

Cover chicken carcass with plenty of water. Simmer on stove top or roast in a 350 degree oven for a couple hours. I often leave it in the oven for several hours. Don't worry about what types of seasoning you used on the roast chicken; they will add to the soup flavor. Strain broth from carcass and pick out usable meat. Toss meat back in with the broth. Bring soup base back up to a simmer and add rice, carrots, and any other veggies that you think might be tasty such as celery, potatoes, or some types of greens (note: add greens at the end with leeks). I usually add baby bok choy as we get a lot of it from our CSA and no one here, except me, will eat it cooked any other way. Add salt and pepper. Simmer for about 20 minutes or until rice is done. Meanwhile, melt a couple tablespoons of butter in a saute pan, add leeks, and top with a bit of water. Cover and simmer for 15-30 minutes, checking frequently to make sure there is enough water to prevent burning. When leeks are fully soft, add to soup with chopped greens during the last five minutes of simmering. Serve with crusty homemade bread.

Squash with California Chile Sauce


The DF detests squash. There's something about the texture that sends him running for the hills whenever there's even a mention of the gourd. But this recipe has completely reformed his squash hating ways. My brother tells me that if I figure out a way to bottle the sauce, I'll be a millionaire. Seriously, you're gonna kiss my ass for sharing this with you. If for some reason you find it completely repugnant, I'll give you your money back. Disclaimer: no guarantees for squash haters. I may have converted mine, but I refuse to be responsible for yours.

ingredients:

• winter squash - Delicata or butternut make a good choice, but you could use any kind you have laying around.
• butter
• California chile powder (This is a mild chile. You can find it at any Latin grocery. Feel free to go with a chile that has a bit more heat. I just prefer this one because I'm sensitive the super hot spicy stuff.)
• lime
• salt or garlic salt

Cut squash in half and roast, face down, on a baking pan with a touch of water at 350 until soft. Prepare sauce by melting about 4 tablespoons of butter. Add chile powder, at least a tablespoon or more, and salt to taste. I make it a deep brick red color. Juice one lime and stir into sauce. You can either pour the sauce over the squash left in their skins or remove squash meat, mash, and smother in sauce.

P.S. Let me know if you like the recipes. I'm thinking about trying to post the best of my kitchen experiments on a monthly basis. What do you think?

Planting Trees and Harvesting Tomatoes

Yup, that's me, hard at it getting that Arbutus 'Marina', a.k.a. Strawberry tree, planted in front of our house. This past weekend Ute and I helped put in a bunch of new trees in our neighborhood with Friends of the Urban Forest. We'd been wanting a tree for some time and FUF gives great deals to residents in our neighborhood. They are a really wonderful organization and so incredibly organized. Along with fellow neighbors, we planted a total of 92 trees in the area, many of them going to Monroe Elementary School where Ute is a 1st grader. They had the whole operation running like a well oiled machine. Our little group of volunteers was the slowest by far, but we still finished somewhere around 1pm. What the above picture doesn't show is that right after it was snapped, I pulled that post pounder up too high, raising it up above the post, lost my balance (and if you've ever picked up a post pounder you know why), came careening off the ladder, hitting the noggin of that older gentleman in the train hat who was standing underneath me, all after our planting leader gave us a dismissive lecture about how tree planting is not a really dangerous activity, but if accidents were to occur, it would be when using the post pounder. I love being the example of why safety precautions are in place. I felt just like a toddler after being given that ubiquitous parental lecture "That's why I told you not to jump on the couch!"

Here's a pic of my big girl doing a much better, and safer, job than I.


Here I am, the joyful owner of a new tree.


If you have a program like this in your city, I highly recommend participating.

In other news, the tomatoes are ripening a plenty. In fact, I was able to make some delicious homemade tomato sauce to freeze with all the excess. The recipe came from Barbara Kingsolver's book Animal, Vegetable, Miracle (a really wonderful read btw). It called for quite a bit of basil, which I will probably moderate on my next attempt of this concoction. But all in all, the sauce tastes great.

Ingredient Based Cooking

The other day my friend Juan was elucidating on the two main methods of cooking: ingredient based verses recipe, he being a fan of the former. I find myself partial to using a combo of the two, demonstrated by today's latest concoction. So what does one actually do with slightly under ripe-ish sour apples, overripe plums, and perfectly mature peaches? Make a crisp, of course!


Here's my basic recipe:

• Fill a pie pan with fruit like strawberries, blueberries, any kind of berries really, peaches, plums, nectarines, apricots, apples - whatever strikes your fancy. Feel free to make wild combinations. You really can't mess this up. Although I don't know if I would recommend melons or citrus.
• Make a crumble topping by combining 1 stick of softened butter, 1 cup of brown sugar, and 1 cup of flour. I usually use my hands to mix it really well and make it crumbly, but a fork or one of those pastry blenders that gets the butter and flour to stick together work well too. Sometimes I add oatmeal, cinnamon, or nuts. Pour crumble on top of fruit.
• Bake at 350 for 45 minutes, or 1 hour if you've got apples in there.

It's so yummy, especially fresh out of the oven. Just ask Ute. Look at her, she can barely wait for it to cool.