A Long-term Relationship with Food

grilled veggies meal3 smDieting websites and the media like to talk about our “relationship” with food–how and why we eat, how we use food to modulate our mood or to fill emotional needs. They tell us that if we can identify our eating habits, we can change them to become thinner or more healthy.

A gardener’s relationship with food encompasses far more than eating. It is more than a late-night ice cream binge; it is a long-term affair. I plan the garden, till the soil, plant the seeds, water, weed, squish pests, and do a hundred other tasks before finally harvesting, preparing and eating the food. For some foods, the relationship lasts well over a year, from planting to eating (or many years, if you consider the fruit trees).

A gardener’s relationship with food revolves about the seasons. A vegetable out of season tastes wrong, leaves me unsatisfied. Likewise, when a food is in season can become a key part of my relationship with it. For example, artichokes have become a comfort food for me, because they reliably produce during the early spring gap when there’s almost nothing to eat in the garden.

Do I love you because you're beautiful?

Do I love you because you’re beautiful?

A gardener’s relationship with food includes feelings about different varieties of plant. For example, I absolutely adore Brandywine tomatoes, so much so that I insist on planting them, even though they prefer a much hotter, longer summer, and don’t do well here. And I’ve grown very fond of Russian Red tomatoes, because they keep on producing until they are pounded down by repeated frosts, long after other varieties have given up.

A gardener’s relationship with food includes how a food is harvested and stored. Pumpkins make me feel surrounded by loved ones, because the family often helps pick, sort and store them. Hot peppers and garlic become special because of the care needed to string and braid them for storage, and their beauty as they hang in the kitchen waiting to be used.

A gardener’s relationship with food includes how it is prepared. For example, a jar of soup heated quickly for dinner when we all come home late is one of the most satisfying meals I know, because the soup was made by the whole family in an all-day team effort at the end of summer.

100_2519smMost importantly, I believe, a gardener’s relationship with food is a mutual one—I nurture the food, and the food nurtures me and my family. I walk through the garden and am fed. And when the family sits down to a meal, we thank not only the cook, but the gardener and the plants for the bounty before us.

Summer Simplicity

Roast veggies3smIronically, it’s when the garden is absolutely bursting with vegetables that I least feel like cooking. Hot summer days make me want to stay outside until dark. I don’t want to go inside to stand over a hot stove. I’d be happy to walk through the garden “grazing” instead of sitting down to a meal.

The good thing is that with so many vegetables at their best, summer cooking need not be elaborate. Simply prepared, and lightly cooked, fresh summer vegetables are at their best. Here is my absolute favourite simple summer meal. Though this dish does heat the kitchen, it’s quick to prepare and doesn’t need watching, so you can sit on the porch with a cool drink while it bakes.

Roast Vegetables

Chop a selection of vegetables into large chunks. Any of the following do nicely:

Carrot

Zucchini/courgette

Eggplant

Tomato (whole cherry tomatoes are especially nice)

Green beans

Potato

Sweet corn (still on the cob, cut each ear into about 4 chunks)

Sweet pepper/capsicum

Beets/beetroot (sliced to about 3mm so it cooks fully)

Mushrooms

Put the vegetables into a wide baking dish, along with 2 cloves of sliced garlic, a few sprigs of fresh rosemary and/or thyme, and salt and pepper to taste. Drizzle a generous amount of olive oil over the vegetables, and toss until evenly coated. Bake at 230°C (450°F) for about 30 minutes, stirring once after 15 minutes. Serve hot or at room temperature.

 

In Praise of a Cooking Spouse

I painted the living room today. There were lots of other things on my to-do list, but they didn’t happen. After a 40-minute trip to Leeston for a new paint tray, because the roller handle I bought yesterday (to replace the one that broke last week) was the wrong size for our paint trays, and then a 2 ½ hour trip to the city because the white paint I was sold last week wasn’t actually white paint (it was dark base, which looks white in the can, but actually doesn’t cover anything), I finally managed to make some headway on the job. Then I remembered I was supposed to milk my neighbour’s goats, so I dashed around cleaning up, grabbed my milk pot, and headed over…only to discover that it’s NEXT week she needs me to milk for her. At this point, it was 6:30 pm, the living room was still unfinished, and I hadn’t even thought about making dinner yet. I was ready to have beer and pretzels and call that a meal.

“Can I make you a nice meal?”

My marvellous spouse allowed me to continue painting while he grilled vegetables and polenta (and even poured me a glass of wine, never mind how the trim painting gets a little wobbly…).

I cook most weekday evenings, just because I’m the first one home. On weekends, we usually cook together. So it was delightful to have someone cook for me. What a wonderful gift!

The Pickle Lady

dilled beans7 smWhenever I think of my great grandmother Sturgis, I think of pickles. Now, she died when I was just a young child, so I’m certain my memory of her is wildly inaccurate, so I offer my sincere apologies to anyone who knew her. What I remember about her is hundreds and hundreds of jars of pickles—way more than an elderly married couple ever needed or could possibly consume. I remember a basement lined with shelves laden with dusty jars of all types of pickle–chunks, bread and butter slices, whole sweet pickles, dill spears… I imagine her an avid gardener who just couldn’t bring herself to rip out those cucumber plants once she’d put up enough pickles for the year. I know the temptation. The cucumbers are there. Pickles are good. You wouldn’t want those cucumbers to go to waste, would you? Pretty soon, the pantry shelves are groaning under the weight of pickle jars, you’re buying vinegar by the case, and you’re sending every guest home with a selection of half a dozen types of pickle. Before you know it, you’re known as “The Pickle Lady”. Neighbourhood children sneak around the house, daring each other to peek through the windows for a glimpse of the reinforced steel shelving stacked with pickles. Guests feign cucumber allergies. Family members drop hints about obsessive compulsive disorders their “friends” have. Your husband threatens to move out unless you remove the stacks of pickle jars from the bedroom.

This is why I only plant pickling cucumbers every other year. I can easily make two years’ supply of pickles with one planting (and still have cucumbers left over for the neighbours who like to make their own pickles). And it reduces the risk of becoming The Pickle Lady.

Of course, other vegetables can be pickled…

If you can’t beat ‘em…

Weeds. Gardeners hate them.

But weeds are just plants. And the weeds in my garden here in New Zealand are almost identical to the weeds I had in my garden in Pennsylvania, and the one in Minnesota, and even my garden in Panama.

So what are these weeds? They’re the plants that European colonists couldn’t do without. Food, medicine, pest control—it’s all there in those common garden weeds. Back when my husband and I lived and worked at residential camps and couldn’t have a garden, we used to forage for weeds to supplement the nutritionally suspect camp food we were served. Dandelions were one of our favourite early spring salad greens. Picked at the right time (before the flowers emerge), they are nutty and pleasantly bitter.

I took a walk around my garden today, and found the makings of a lovely meal among the weeds.

You'll be happy to eat pernicious sheep sorrel, just so the @#$&* things don't resprout.

You’ll be happy to eat pernicious sheep sorrel, just so the @#$&* things don’t resprout.

Dandelion greens make a delicious, nutty early spring green. Pick them before they flower or they'll be bitter.

Dandelion greens make a delicious, nutty early spring green. Pick them before they flower or they’ll be bitter.

Lambs quarters, or henbit is a nice salad green all summer. The chickens love it, too.

Lambs quarters, or henbit is a nice salad green all summer. The chickens love it, too.

Cook up some dock greens as a side dish.

Cook up some dock greens as a side dish.

Even prickly sow thistle can be cooked and eaten.

Even prickly sow thistle can be cooked and eaten.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So next time you pull out a handful of weeds, remember—if you can’t beat ‘em, just eat ‘em!

Eating Out

We almost never eat out. It’s a 45 minute drive to anywhere other than a fish and chips shop, and with so much food coming out of the garden, we feel obligated to eat as much of it as possible every day. It’s also hard to eat out because we eat so well at home. Restaurant salads are never as fresh as ours. Eating out, we’re tempted by out-of-season foods, which are always disappointing. And there’s always so much waste at a restaurant (at home, any extras can be fed to the chickens or the goats)

So it was an unusual day today. We dropped the kids at summer camp, and since we were so close already, we had lunch in Akaroa before a swim at Le Bons Bay. We trolled the street (there’s really only one) looking for a good spot. Lots of fish in Akaroa—salmon, mussels, and various other edible sea creatures. There is surprisingly little vegetarian food on offer. What’s available are the standard Kiwi vegetarian options—frittata with kumara and feta cheese, pizza, panini with brie and a few vegetables, plain tomato pasta, and what we ended up with—cheese toasties and hot chips (that’s a toasted cheese sandwich with French fries for you Americans).

We don’t have a toastie maker at home—the clamshell like device that grills a sandwich on both sides at the same time, and makes a very different sort of sandwich than toasted cheese sandwiches on a griddle. We also never deep-fat fry our potatoes, so a toastie with chips is something of an exotic treat for us. Today’s toasties weren’t the best I’ve had, but they were gooey on the inside and crisp on the outside, and the chips were hot and salty. A nice treat.

Of course, we were required to eat extra zucchini at dinner because of it…

Vampires Beware!

Garlic1smI harvested the garlic a few days ago. The only blessing in the drought we’re experiencing is that the garlic has dried down enough and should store well this year. It’s been curing in the sun, and today I braided it into ropes that will hang in the shed until we need them.

My favourite garlicky dish is Skordalia—Greek garlic sauce. Easy to make, and excellent as a dip for fresh vegetables! We made it last year with purple potatoes, and the vivid colour was a huge hit. Here is the skordalia recipe from Greek Cooking for the Gods, by Eva Zane.

6 cloves of garlic, minced

2 cups mashed potatoes

½ tsp salt

1 cup olive oil

½ cup cider vinegar

Place the garlic, potatoes, and salt in a blender on high speed until smooth. Slowly add the oil, alternating with vinegar, and blend until smooth. Chill for several hours before serving.

Zucchini!

Zucchini4cropsmThe question of what to do with too much zucchini is one that has plagued humankind for millennia. The modern zucchini’s ancestors came from Central and South America, and were part of the local diet as far back as 5500 B.C. (I wonder how you say, “Zucchini, again?” in ancient Mayan?)

Europeans knew a good thing when they saw it, and within 50 years of European invasion of Central America, zucchinis (well, their ancestors, anyway) were being cultivated in Europe. The vegetable we grow today as zucchini was developed in Italy in the 19th century (hence the Italian name we use for it), and it has been overwhelming home gardeners all over the world ever since.

The good news about zucchini is that you really can’t eat too much. It is low in calories (only 18 per half cup), and is full of nutrients like beta-carotene, folic acid, and vitamins C and E. Of course, there really is only so much zucchini one can eat, and because I plant several varieties, we reach the point of zucchini saturation pretty quickly. The overflow goes to the goats, who eat it happily for a while, and then they, too, get tired of it. Eventually, some zucchinis are forgotten in the garden, and grow into giants. My biggest last year was nearly a metre long. I thought that was pretty impressive, until I learned that the longest zucchini ever grown measured 2.39 metres (7 ft 10.3 in)! Now there’s something to aspire to this year!

In the meantime, it’s zucchini for dinner again tonight!

Best pie ever

DSC_0011cropWe had an overabundance of blackcurrants this year, and in looking for interesting (and easy) things to do with them, I found some lovely pie recipes. I mixed and matched them, and came up with this divine concoction. So flavourful, you only need a little slice…so good you’ll want a big one!

I’ve been making it the day after making quiche for dinner—I make twice as much pastry dough as I need for the quiche, and put half in the fridge. With pre-prepared dough, the pie can then be assembled in minutes.

4 cups blackcurrants (fresh or frozen, thawed)

½ cup granulated sugar

2 Tbsp. all-purpose flour

Pastry for 9-inch pie

Wash and drain blackcurrants and remove stems. Mix with sugar and flour. Pour into the pie shell and top with pastry or streusel topping (see below).

Bake at 200°C (400°F) for 30 minutes, then reduce the heat to 180°C (350°F) and bake for another 25-30 minutes. Cool completely, and serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream.

Streusel:

5 Tbsp. melted butter

2/3 cup quick-cooking rolled oats (traditionally chopped nuts, but ‘easy’ is the whole idea here)

½ cup packed brown sugar

2/3 cup whole wheat flour

1 tsp. cinnamon

Mix ingredients with a fork until it resembles coarse crumbs.

 

 

Tastes Better Outside

Outdoor table settingsmLocation, location, location! True for real estate and for food. Where you eat is every bit as important as what you eat. Some of my best meals have been based on the where, not the what:

  • Lunch of stale crackers and peanut butter, eaten at about 1100 metres on a ridge in Fiordland, New Zealand on the summer solstice.
  • A spicy breakfast salteña, eaten on the streets of La Paz, Bolivia (and subsequently vomited in a public park in La Paz…but it was a great meal!)
  • Breakfast of one banana, bought from a local subsistence farmer on a day-long hike to a friend’s house in Panama.
  • Leftover burgers and strawberries, accompanied by warm beer on a remote beach on the Banks Peninsula, New Zealand.
  • Cold Pop Tarts on a large boulder in the White Mountains of New Hampshire.

It’s no accident that all these amazing meals occurred outdoors. I can’t think of a better dining room than one without walls or a roof! Doesn’t matter what I’m eating, it will taste better eaten in fresh air.

Where have your best meals occurred?