Summer Soups and Stews

One of the nicest things about the end of summer are those autumnal days that make me crave hearty soups and stews–dishes I haven’t particularly wanted to eat in the heat of summer.

To have a chill in the air, but still have a garden bursting with summer vegetables means we can make wonderful warming dishes with the very best of summer flavours.

We’re into our third day of rain, with temperatures hovering around 11°C (52°F), and enjoying the possibilities the weather has offered.

First up was a beautiful tomato soup, made with a king’s ransom of fresh, garden-ripened tomatoes, and handfuls of fresh herbs. It was amazing for dinner and made a wonderful warming lunch the following day, too.

Tonight it was black beans from this year’s harvest, cooked with more fresh tomatoes and herbs, accompanied by corn bread and our own melons.

It makes me look forward to more rainy days to come!

 

Ode to a Rainy Day

Rain, Rain, here today
A fine excuse, inside we’ll stay.
Play a game,
Bake a cake,
Do some sewing,
The yard’s a lake.

Drip and drop, it patters down.
Might be a day to go to town.
Catch a movie,
See some art,
Stop off for
A neenish tart.

Paddocks brown all get a drink.
Best to stay inside, I think.
Read a book,
Drink some tea,
Have a chat,
Just you and me.

Crazy Cake Season: Cake #3

This is the ‘adult’ cake of the season. He asked for something along the lines of devil’s food cake–chocolate and cherries. He was expecting an ordinary layer cake.

Hehehe…

So here it is–a chocolate genoise sheet cake rolled around whipped cream and cherries. I couldn’t resist the meringue mushrooms and chocolate leaf litter for my soil ecologist.

With his favourite cream cheese frosting (in chocolate, of course), this dead log looks good enough to eat.

Taking Life Seriously

These hands were made for walkin’

Life is full of serious stuff. Hard work, difficult decisions, earthquakes, fires, death, politicians, lawyers, and accountants…it’s easy to be overwhelmed by it all, and to walk through life with a frown.

So I’m thankful for those who can show us the proper way to take ourselves seriously…

Like the fellow in front of me at Farmlands this morning, who was buying fence posts.

“Anything else?” the clerk asked.

“Yeah, I’d like matching holes to put them in.”

Or the man I once caught stealing a marker flag off a research site. Surprised in the act of untying the flag from the tree, he smiled impishly, shrugged, tied it back on and walked off.

Or the awesome women I see around town with their hair dyed fuchsia, peacock blue, or lime green.

So, In an effort to take life as seriously as these leaders in the field, I’ve decided to tackle an issue that has bothered me for many years.

Handstands.

Yep. The important issue of our time–our orientational and gravitational challenges.

Oh, I can do handstands, and I can walk on my hands for half a dozen steps, but I lack control and finesse upside down. It bothers me that I can’t just stay on my hands for as long as I want, like I do on my feet. Eventually, I lose my balance. That shouldn’t happen. I should be able to remain in a handstand long enough to sing every last verse of Ratlin Bog. Long enough to read the entire front page of the New York Times (which would probably seem much less serious from that perspective). Long enough to do the bunny hop around the room. Long enough to thoroughly embarrass both my teenage children. Long enough that they deny they’re related to me, or that they’ve ever even met me.

So if you find me upside down at odd hours of day and night, please understand I’m just doing my best to take life seriously.

Walk the Plank

The edits are done. It's ready to roll. Shh! Don't tell anyone!

The edits are done. It’s ready to roll. Shh! Don’t tell anyone!

Late last year I made the decision to independently publish my books. I had self-published a book early in the year, just to become familiar with the process. It was easy…except for the crucial step. Once my book was available for everyone to buy and read, I was suddenly not able to tell anyone about it. I’d done some promotion in the lead-up to publication, but once it was out there, I was absolutely petrified to advertise.

So along with the decision to self-publish the next two books, I made a New Year’s resolution. I was going to promote my books. I was going to make phone calls and personal visits to get my books into bookstores and libraries, get them into the hands of readers. I was going to blow my own horn and not be shy about it, because no one else was going to do it for me. This was marketing. People went to school to learn how to do it, so it must be learnable. I would learn to do it.

Yeah…right.

For two weeks, I’ve been agonising over a media release and press kit. I’ve been finding every reason not to send the information out, not to put it on my website.

Not that I think the marketing information I’ve prepared is in any way faulty. The writing of promotional material isn’t rocket science. It’s writing. I’m actually pretty good at that.

No, my problem is the same thing that made me freeze last year; the intense aversion I have to self-promotion. It’s not the fear that someone will read my books and not like them–that’s going to happen, for sure, and it doesn’t worry me. I don’t think it’s the fear that, even after a lot of promotion, no one will read my books. It’s a fear of the marketing process itself. The fear of saying, “Hey, I’ve created something I think you’ll really like. Something that’s worth your time and money.”

It should be easy–I like my books, and I think they are worth people’s time and money. But it is proving to be the single hardest aspect of writing for me.

I started writing because I needed a new challenge. I thought having enough ideas, staying focused on my task, putting words on paper would be the challenges. Little did I know…

I have made the resolution. I will do it. I’ll send out that promotional material. I’ll hand out my advertising bookmarks everywhere I go. I’ll make all those necessary phone calls. I’ll walk into those bookstores…

But one at a time. With sweaty palms and nervous smiles. It’s unlikely to be pretty. It’s sure to be less effective than I’d like. But my bold pirate self is standing on deck with a sword at my back, and the timid self (the one afraid of sharks) is going to have to walk that plank.

Mysteries of the Pomegranate

img_3242I know nothing about pomegranates. Sometimes my husband gives me one for Christmas, and I like them, especially in fruit salad. Beyond that, I’m completely ignorant.

So last year, when I saw a pomegranate tree for sale in a local nursery, I naturally bought it.

To be fair, I did do a little research first, just to make sure we had any chance of actually getting it to grow on our property. By the time I brought it home, I knew it had no less of a chance of surviving here than any other fruit tree (all of which prefer more water and less wind than they get here).

So we planted a pomegranate, and a couple of months later it lost all its leaves.

Are pomegranates deciduous, or is it dead? We didn’t even know this much. Turns out, yes, they are. Ours dutifully leafed out again in spring.

Once we knew it was alive, we promptly ignored it again, until a few weeks ago when we noticed little red bulbs on it.

Hey! Fruit! Though we had seen no flowers, we could easily have missed them. For all we knew, pomegranates had small, plain flowers.

Then today, one of those little red bulbs burst, unfurling this stunning big red bloom.

Wow! We had no idea. I’d grow this tree for the flowers alone. They have all the tropical exuberance of a hibiscus (but on a more cold-hardy plant).

I still have no idea when or if those flowers might become fruit (it seems the wrong time of year for any tree to be flowering) but, hey, we know a lot more about pomegranates than we did a year ago. Reason enough to grow something new.

Escape the Heat

2017-03-02-15-12-14I love my office. The northeast and northwest walls are formed almost entirely by large sliding glass doors. I have sunlight in the office all day. On warm days I can throw open the doors and enjoy feeling like I’m working outdoors.

In winter, I rarely have to run my heater–even ten minutes of sunshine can heat up the room. The insulated and windowless south-facing walls keep the room cosy and draught-free, even in howling storms.

That’s all great…for most of the year…but when the outside temperature climbs above 30°C (86°F), all that sunshine becomes too much. No matter how nice the breeze through those open doors, sitting in the sun becomes unbearable. My attention starts to wander. My brain become sluggish. My hourly word count plummets. At some point I have to either give up work for the day or take it elsewhere.

A pool of shade, a grassy seat, and a clipboard, and I’m back in business. It’s officially autumn here, but it’s still hot enough to need to escape the heat. I’m looking forward to cooler days when I can appreciate my office again.

And the Winner Is…

2017-03-01-19-04-27It’s Oscar season in the garden–the time of year when I start reviewing in my head how various crops performed over the summer. I plant a wide variety of vegetables, because some do well and some don’t every year, and not always the same ones.

This year, for reasons known only to the plants, the black beans produced spectacularly well. I spent two hours harvesting yesterday and haven’t picked them all yet. I’ve easily got twice as many per square metre as I did last year. Add to that the fact I planted more this year than I did last year, and we’ve got a heap of beans.

You won’t find me complaining about that. Black beans are one of those staple foods for us that I can never produce enough of. I can already taste the burritos, chilli, and plain old beans and rice that will warm our stomachs through the rest of the year.

Of course, shelling them will take ages. I managed to shell about three-quarters of a bucket last night before the boredom got me. My secret to shelling without going crazy is movies. Movies I’ve watched before are best, so I don’t mind having to look away now and again to grab another handful of beans. I can settle in for the whole evening of shelling with a good movie. By the time I get to the final credits, I realise I’ve shelled a bucketful.

Perhaps I should watch Moonlight? Two winners together in one evening.

Zucchini Tomato Tart

img_3173I knew what I wanted for dinner this evening. I remembered seeing the photo of it in one of our cookbooks. I remembered making it once, ages ago–a tomato zucchini tart. I couldn’t find the recipe, though, so I punted. The resulting tart was spectacularly good.

Here’s the completely untested recipe I made up on the fly.

Make your favourite pie crust. Line a large tart pan with it and chill it in the fridge while you prepare the rest of the tart.

Slice zucchinis and tomatoes into 3 mm (1/8 inch) slices. How many? I don’t know…enough. You can always slice more as you go.

Spread a generous layer of chevre (a soft goat cheese) on the bottom of the crust.

Layer slices of zucchini alternated with slices of tomato, starting at the outside edge of the pan and working toward the centre in rings. (Because I could, I used a different variety of zucchini for each ring, moving from dark green to light green to yellow…but I’m weird like that)

Sprinkle freshly grated parmesan cheese over the top, along with a generous grinding of black pepper and salt.

Bake at 210°C (400°F) for about 40 minutes.

I served this with corn on the cob and a cucumber and onion salad for a mid-week meal that felt more like a weekend feast.

The price of the beach

img_3170We spent yesterday at the beach–sun, sand, and surf!

It was glorious.

Today I paid for it.

Not in sunburn or sand in my shorts, but in work. It was time to make our annual vat of summer soup, I was milking for the neighbour this weekend, and I had a weekend of cleaning and animal care to do–all in one day.

While I milked the neighbour’s goats, the rest of the family started picking and chopping vegetables. When I got home with a pot of milk, I made cheese around the vegetable prepping, then I joined in.

As the pot of soup came together, we started calculating how many jars we needed to hold it all. It was several more than we had empty.

So I made apple crisp, freeing up two jars (which still held last year’s apples). I baked that while the first load of jars was in the canner.

I had also planned on baking lunchbox desserts this weekend, so after putting the second load of jars in the canner, I made cookies.

I also took down and folded the laundry (and patched a hole in my daughter’s shirt), and washed a ton of dishes.

While the third load of jars was in the canner, I cleaned the house (mostly), and milked my own goat. Before that batch of jars was finished, it was dinnertime. I sat down for the first time since breakfast.

Whew!

The final tally for the day was 23 quarts of soup, 6 quarts of vegetable stock, 6 dozen cookies, one beautiful apple crisp, and a batch of chevre (and a clean house and laundry).

Unfortunately, the chicken house hasn’t gotten cleaned yet, nor has the bathroom. I could probably manage them yet today.

Or I could pour myself a glass of wine and worry about them tomorrow…