Waxing Lyrical

100_4015 smWhen I say I’m going to do some waxing, chances are it’s not the sort of waxing you think of. Instead of depilatory waxing, I’m doing cheese waxing.

I used to hate to wax cheeses. The “instructions” for cheese wax say you should brush it on. I used to try to brush my wax on, but very quickly realized that the wax hardens in the bristles before you’ve even got half a cheese covered, and then you’re trying to brush wax onto your cheese with what amounts to a block of wood. Meanwhile, half the wax ends up on your fingers, and you end up with a lumpy cheese, burnt fingers, and a stove covered in wax drips.

So I started dipping my cheese. This worked much better…until I accidentally dipped my fingers one day and dropped the cheese into the wax. I thought drips of wax on the stove were bad, but the tsunami of hot wax resulting from the dropped cheese took weeks to remove.

I still dip my cheeses, but now waxing is quick, clean and painless. Instead of holding the cheese, I create a sling for it out of cotton string. With my fingers hooked into the string and safely above the wax, I can dip an entire cheese all at once. I get a beautiful finish, no drips on the stove, and no burns. I also get a perfect place to attach a label, so I know which cheese is which after months of maturing in the fridge.

 

Gather Ye Rosebuds…

100_3978 smRunning late

After a hard day,

Back aching,

Dinner to be made,

Laundry to be folded.

 

I stood at the kitchen sink

Washing the dishes that I didn’t have time to wash

After lunch.

 

Outside the window

A bloom danced in the breeze.

A rose

Frothy pink.

Another

Burgundy

Like wine I wished I had time to enjoy.

There were more, I knew

Out of sight.

 

I left the dishes,

Dried my hands.

 

Dinner would have to wait.

 

Scissors in hand, I abandoned my work

To gather roses.

 

 

An Apartment in Town

100_4017Some days make me want to live in an apartment in the city.

Today was one of them.

As I mentioned in a previous post, I planted out all the frost-tender plants last weekend.

Earlier this week, it frosted. In spite of my efforts to save them, I lost nearly 200 plants. I saved hundreds more, so I tried to make the best of it. I replanted what I could.

When it looked like it was going to frost again last night, I covered everything I could.

But it didn’t just frost last night. It froze.

When I tried to spray the plants down in the morning to save what was left, my hoses were frozen. I managed to get a sprinkler going eventually, but when I came back half an hour later, the water it had sprayed had frozen solid.

I won’t know until tomorrow, but I expect I have now lost all of my frost-tender crops, except the few plants that fit in the greenhouse.

After the plant disaster, I headed to the goat paddock to do the milking and noticed that one of my yearlings was scouring badly. The result of worms, no doubt (she was the one goat I didn’t manage to dose the last time I drenched them). Treatable, but in a goat so small, I worry—they can go down fast once they start scouring. I gave her an injection of Dectomax, but like the plants, I won’t know until tomorrow what the outcome is.

So I rushed around trying to save lives this morning before driving an hour into the city to take the kids to school…makes that apartment in town look really attractive.

DIY pot handles

100_4014 smA good stainless steel pot can last pretty much forever.

Problem is, the bits that aren’t stainless steel don’t.

We inherited two glass-lidded pots when we bought our house. They’re not the greatest pots, but they do get used a lot, as they’re very convenient sizes. Unfortunately, the lid handles have broken off both of them.

Enter my ever-resourceful, creative husband, who carved new handles for them.

These delightful knobs are far more interesting than the ones they replaced. In fact, they’re so nice, I’m thinking about breaking some of the other pot handles…

Strangest Kitchen Tool Ever

100_4012 smStuck to a screw head in the bottom kitchen cupboard where mouse traps nestle alongside the water heater is the strangest kitchen tool. It’s a DIY affair made of a discarded cabinet latch plate and four small rare-earth magnets. It is seldom used, but absolutely critical when it’s needed.

It’s the Canning Lid Extraction Device.

For some reason known only to the gods (who are laughing uproariously about it, I’m sure), the drain of our kitchen sink is exactly the same diameter as a wide mouth canning lid. Exactly. And, you know, when you’re washing a jar, you just toss the lid into the wash water, not thinking. It floats innocently down, guided inexorably to the lowest point of the sink—the drain—where it gently settles in, just as you think, “No! I dropped a lid in!”

And once one settles into the drain, there is absolutely no way to get even the thinnest tip of a knife in there to pry it out. It’s stuck. Forever.

Or, it would be without the handy dandy Canning Lid Extraction Device.

Where would we be without magnetism! The powerful magnets latch onto the lid and pull it right out. The old latch plate acts as a convenient handle for wet, soapy hands. The perfect tool!

Overspray

100_4002Planting out, I scrutinise each plant for health. I discard damaged or poorly growing plants. I pick off pests.

But there are some problems I can’t do anything about.

The neighbour’s 2,4-D overspray is one of those.

2,4-D is a broadleaf herbicide that has become increasingly popular with our neighbours over the past five years. Unfortunately, it is extremely volatile, so if the wind is blowing our direction when they spray, we are enveloped in a cloud of herbicide.

It usually doesn’t kill our plants outright, but it has long-lasting effects on them. Grapes are particularly susceptible, but we’ve had damage to nearly every vegetable crop in some years. Some plants, like the green beans, seem to be able to ‘grow out’ of the damage. Others never do, and the effects of an early spring spray can still be seen at harvest time in late summer.

This year, the first overspray hit us in mid-October. Though the frost-tender crops weren’t in the garden yet, they were in the greenhouse, and didn’t escape damage.

I’d surveyed the damage in general as the plants were massed in the greenhouse, but as I inspected each plant at plant out time, I saw the full extent of the damage.

The most obvious early sign of 2,4-D damage is deformation of the leaves—they elongate and curl, and develop odd-looking venation. They can also bleach, sometimes looking nearly white. This year, the tomatoes were particularly hard-hit, with almost all the young leaves deformed. Eggplants, too. Thankfully, the peppers seem to have escaped, and many plants weren’t even up yet, so they made it, too.

I accept that my neighbours aren’t organic farmers, and that they have little control over when the contractor comes to do their spraying, but still it is discouraging to face the same overspray problems year after year.

Plant out!

100_4005 smIt’s Canterbury weekend here, and that means it’s time for all the vegetables to head to their prepared spots in the garden. In theory, the frost is over and summer is upon us!

The approach to plant out weekend is always a bit stressful. Plants are overly large for their pots, and there’s a temptation to plant out too early (and Murphy’s Law says that if you plant out before Canterbury Day, it WILL frost). It’s a mission just to keep the plants watered in the greenhouse. And with all the plants crammed together in one place, all it would take is one hungry possum discovering the greenhouse, and the entire garden would be destroyed for the year.

And then there’s the task of making sure all the garden beds are ready to receive those plants in time for plant out weekend. I start mapping out each weekend’s jobs in late September so that I’m not caught with half a dozen beds still full of weeds at plant out time.

This year, plant out went beautifully. The weather cooperated—it was cool and cloudy so the transplanted plants and I weren’t stressed by heat. The beds were all ready to go, and most of the plants were in good shape.

And now I get to rest, right?

Ha!

Now the early crops are desperate to be weeded, the berry beds are sprouting full of thistles, and I’m probably 10 days from being inundated by strawberries, gooseberries and currants.

Never a dull moment!

Broad Beans

100_4007 smI had never eaten broad beans (aka fava beans) before moving to New Zealand, but now I can’t imagine early summer without them. They’re uncommon in the U.S., and even here where they’re grown by the hectare, they’re often considered “old people’s food”. During my brief stint selling vegetables at the Leeston market, I never sold broad beans to anyone under the age of 80.

But his attitude is unfair. Broad beans are more versatile than that. They have a bold, almost floral flavour that needs no embellishment. When young, the beans are sweet like peas, and they grow starchier as they mature. Somewhere between sweet and starch, they are at their best.

The “usual” way to eat broad beans is to blanch them, peel the skin off each bean, then serve them or cook them into a dish. Nothing wrong with that, unless you’re the cook, who has to shell and peel all those beans.

We prefer to make the consumers do half the work. We blanch the beans and serve them as finger food. They make a lovely appetizer—pop them out of their skins right into your mouth. Paired with a nice Sauvignon Blanc and eaten outdoors on a summer evening, they are no longer “old people’s food”. They become urbane and sophisticated. Something to be savoured with intelligent conversation.

And if you’re more the beer and burgers type, broad beans will oblige. They make a mean green burger that goes well with cheese, mushrooms and ketchup. Light enough for a lager, strong enough for a stout, broad bean burgers go with just about anything.

Broad beans—a versatile legume that’s not just for old people.

 

Not a Spanish Omelette

100_3995 smContinuing with the egg theme…because I’m getting three a day now, and hardly know what to do with them all…

My husband introduced me to this dish before we were even married. He called it a Spanish omelette.

It is not a Spanish omelette. It’s more akin to a Texas omelette, but without the beans.

But it’s not even really that.

But whatever you call it, it’s good! And simple to make.

Chunks of roast potatoes topped with scrambled eggs and a thick spicy tomato sauce.

This dish can be served at any time of day, and can take on whatever flavours you want in the tomato sauce. This week, I made a sauce rich with an entire colander full of spinach, fistfuls of fresh basil and oregano, and heavy in paprika (including some smoked paprika, too). Sometimes I steer the sauce toward Central America, with cilantro, sometimes toward Greece with feta cheese and olives. The potatoes and egg are flexible, and will happily nestle under whatever you pour on top.

Best of all, it tastes like junk food, but is packed with nutrients and leaves you feeling satisfied. A real stick-to-your-ribs sort of meal.

Scromelettes

messy but good

messy but good

I know there are many people who add things to their scrambled eggs, but for me, scrambled eggs have always been nothing but eggs and a little milk. If I wanted to add things to my eggs, I made an omelette.

Though I’m not particularly fond of eggs, I’m quite good at making omelettes, thanks to a summer job through my teen years that had me cooking breakfasts for hungry actors at the PA Renaissance Faire.

But the other day I exceeded my omelette abilities. I had so many yummy vegetables and so much cheese to put in our omelettes that I knew the egg wouldn’t hold it all.

So instead I made what we called “scromelettes”—scrambled eggs with omelette fillings mixed in. The result was delicious, if not so pretty as a perfectly folded omelette. Beyond the bonus of being able to use more filling, I was pleased to realise I could sauté longer-cooking ingredients before putting the egg into the pan, ensuring that everything was perfectly cooked.

Would I serve scromelettes to company? Probably not, but they’re a great option for times when your omelette just won’t all fit in a neat package.