A List of Garden Don’ts

2016-01-16 17.22.14 HDR smAs I head into spring, I always try to bear in mind my list of garden don’ts…

  1. Don’t put the compost pile next to the greenhouse. The rats and mice go straight from the compost to the greenhouse, where they devour everything in sight.
  2. Don’t plant so many zucchinis. No. I mean it. One zucchini plant can feed a small village. Just don’t do it.
  3. Don’t put the pumpkins near a path. You don’t need to do anything to them until long after all the other crops are finished, so tuck them away from heavy traffic areas. Otherwise, they’ll take over your paths. Same goes for potatoes, melons, and broad beans.
  4. Don’t take zucchini to every social function you attend. See point number 2. Even your friends can’t eat all that zucchini.
  5. Don’t plant corn where it will shade the tomatoes.
  6. Don’t freeze your extra zucchini. See point number 2. If you must freeze zucchini, grate it first, and don’t freeze more than what you can use in two batches of zucchini bread.
  7. Don’t plant horseradish. Anywhere. For any reason. It’s fine if you love horseradish. But don’t plant it. Get it from a friend who made the mistake of planting horseradish once ten years ago.
  8. Don’t save extra zucchini in the fridge. See point number 2. There will be more tomorrow, and you won’t eat the ones in the fridge. Get a pig or goat instead and feed the zucchini to it.
  9. Don’t water before you weed. It makes for unpleasant working conditions.
  10. Don’t worry. Your local food bank probably accepts zucchini.

Homemade Goat Parmesan

2016-09-05 17.16.17Today was the day—the day to finally crack open one of the parmesan cheeses from last October. Eleven months in the fridge, and they were every bit as disgusting as they always are. Covered in mould, in spite of my efforts to avoid it, and with a hard, dry rind.

And as usual, once the rind was cut off, the cheese underneath was the most divine, flavourful cheese ever.

My parmesan is drier than the standard commercial block, a bit less salty, and with twice the flavour punch. It takes at least ten months to reach full ripeness, but it’s worth the wait. We put commercial parmesan on pasta, in risotto, and in pesto. My parmesan, we also sneak onto our sandwiches for lunch, or onto crackers for an after school snack.

Of all the cheeses I’ve learned to make, it is one of the most rewarding for its sheer over-the-top gourmet decadence. I’d say we live like kings, but I wonder if even kings get cheese this good on a daily basis.

Oven Fries

2016-09-03 18.01.27I’ve been making oven fries for 25 years, and the only thing I don’t like about them is that they stick to the pan, and it takes an overnight soak to clean it.

It’s because I’ve been doing it wrong.

I only learned this a few weeks ago. I was making fries for dinner, and had just slipped the tray into the oven when my daughter asked me to play a game of Bananagrams with her.

I can’t possibly turn down Bananagrams (we usually play two games every evening), and I had the time…

Half an hour and two games of Bananagrams later, I remembered my fries. Whoops! I usually stir them after about 15 minutes to ensure they bake properly and stick less.

I opened the oven to find a tray of perfectly baked fries.

They’ll stick badly, I thought.

Nope. They popped right off the tray—much easier than usual.

Well, you learn something new every day. Since then, I’ve made them several more times, “forgetting” to stir them, and tweaking the technique until I’ve got the best oven fries ever. Here it is…

Cut your potatoes into fries or wedges, however thick you’d like. Toss them generously with olive oil and salt on an oiled baking sheet (I use a jelly roll pan).

Bake on fan-assist at 210°C (400°F) for about 40 minutes, until the fries are nicely browned. Enjoy a glass of wine or a game while they bake—no need to do anything to them!

Ode to a Seed

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Oh, little seed
Barely a speck.
Germ and cotyledon armoured
In seed coat.
You hold such potential–
A pea, a bean, a sprawling melon
Waits inside your humble shell.
Such modest desires you possess–
Soil, sun, water, warmth.
It is my pleasure to provide for you
Knowing you, someday, will provide for me–
Succulent tomatoes, crisp lettuce, spicy radishes.
I can taste your future.

Grow, little seed.
You are my sun, my life, my lunch.
You are spring itself.

Cranberry Orange Muffins

2016-08-21 07.16.45 smI made up this recipe this morning because I had a hankering for cranberry and orange, but was too lazy to search for a recipe. They were so good I thought I’d share.

 

2 cups all-purpose flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 ½ Tbsp baking powder
¾ tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
3 eggs
zest and juice of 1 orange
approx 1 ¼ cup plain yogurt (see instructions below)
½ cup brown sugar
8 Tbsp melted butter
1 cup dried cranberries

Combine the dry ingredients in a large bowl. In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, orange zest, orange juice, yogurt, and butter. To measure the yogurt, squeeze the orange juice into a measuring cup, and add enough yogurt to make 1 ½ cups.

Combine wet and dry ingredients, plus cranberries in a few swift strokes.

Fill greased muffin tins, and bake at 210°C (400°F) for 15 minutes. Makes about 21 muffins.

Cricket Flour

IMG_1784I was running errands in town today, and called in to Bin Inn for some flour and cornmeal.

I was excited to find this sitting on the shelf next to the rice flour and barley flour. It was the first time I’ve seen commercial insect products that admit to being insect products sold in an ordinary store (there are plenty of things you’ve probably bought that contain insect products, but manufacturers generally don’t advertise that).

It’s nice to see insects showing up on the grocery store shelves. I am a proponent of entomophagy, even though I am a vegetarian. If you’re going to eat meat, insects are probably the most environmentally sound way to go.

Being cold-blooded, insects convert feed into body mass much more efficiently than our warm-blooded livestock. You can raise a kilo of crickets on just 1.7 kilos of feed. Compare that to chicken at 2.5 kg of feed per kilo of chicken, or cows at 10 kg of feed per kilo of cow. Adjust these numbers for percentage of the animal that’s edible, and they favour insects even more—80 percent of a cricket is edible, whereas only 55 percent of a chicken and 40 percent of a cow is.

It still takes resources to produce insects. Though they convert feed into food more efficiently, insects need to be kept warm—warmer than you need to keep a cow, because they can’t keep their own bodies warm. There is an energy cost in that.

Of course the biggest problem with farming insects is getting people in Western countries to eat them. Most of the world’s people actually do eat insects, but our modern Western culture had separated us so much from our food, that we even get squeamish when we can identify the animal that our cuts of meat came from.

Consumers generally don’t want to actually see the animal when they’re preparing dinner. I’m sure cricket flour goes over better than, say pickled whole crickets (sort of like sliced ham vs. pickled pigs feet).

It will take a change in our attitude toward insects before Westerners will agree to bar nuts that include roast, salted crickets (which are delicious, by the way). When preschoolers learn that a cricket says “chirp, chirp” along with the cow says “moo”, we’ll be on our way. When we begin to view insects, not as enemies to be beaten, but as fellow organisms on Earth, we’ll be on our way. When we stop seeing insects as dirty, but rather recognise that they carry fewer potential human pathogens than our close relatives the cow and pig, we’ll be on our way.

As a vegetarian and a gardener, I value the insects that come into the kitchen on my vegetables. I don’t get enough vitamin B12, because it is only found in animal products. Insects are full of vitamin B12. So, I’m casual about cleaning the insects off our organically grown vegetables. We eat a lot of aphids, and quite a few caterpillars, I’m sure. And that’s great—it gives us all the nutrition we need, without any extra effort on our part (less, in fact).

Indeed, though I support insect farming, I’m afraid I will probably never buy any insect products–there are so many wonderful insects out there free for the taking, I couldn’t see spending $120 per kilo (and that’s half off!) for cricket flour.

Besides, I prefer my crickets whole—the best part about them is the crunch, after all.

Going bananas

bananaOver 100 billion bananas are eaten globally every year, making bananas the fourth most important food crop in the world. Most bananas are consumed locally—only 15% are exported. Almost all the bananas grown for export are a variety known as Cavendish. New Zealand is said to have the highest per-capita consumption of Cavendish bananas in the world, at 18 kg per person per year.

The Cavendish was named for the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire—whose family name was Cavendish. Their head gardener imported a plant from Mauritius in 1830 and grew it in the family’s hothouse. The banana flourished and provided the duke’s guests with fresh bananas to eat. The Cavendish banana grew so well, the duke was able to supply two cases of plants to a missionary in Samoa. Those bananas were the start of the banana industry in Samoa.

Missionaries spread the Cavendish throughout the Pacific, but it wasn’t until the 1950s that the variety became popular commercially.

Until the 1950s, the most important banana for export was the Gros Michel, but in that decade, it was almost wiped out by a fungus known as Panama disease.

The Cavendish—smaller and not as flavourful as the Gros Michel—was immune, so growers switched largely to the Cavendish.

Almost all commercially grown bananas today are Cavendishes—clones of the plant grown by the Duke and Duchess of Devonshire.

Panama disease didn’t sit idly, though. By 1992, a strain evolved in Southeast Asia that was able to attack the Cavendish. And since the plants are all genetically identical, they are all susceptible to the new strain of the disease. At least 10,000 hectares of Cavendish bananas have been destroyed, and more will certainly fall as the fungus spreads.

For many of the nations that export bananas, it will be an economic disaster. For those of us who enjoy bananas…who knows?

There will likely be a time in which bananas become more expensive, even hard to find in our grocery stores.

But having lived in Panama, I know there are many banana varieties (about 1000, worldwide). And every single one I’ve eaten is better than the Cavendish. The Cavendish’s main selling point is its ability to survive transport, not its flavour.

In our village in Panama, everyone grew bananas. They came in many sizes, shapes, and colours. Some were more starchy, some were sweeter. Some tasted so much like banana, they seemed almost fake. Others tasted like a fruit salad, with tangy citrus overtones to the banana flavour.

I have to believe that as growers develop a replacement for the Cavendish, they will naturally end up with something more flavourful than the bland Cavendish. If we’re really lucky, they’ll develop more than one variety, providing greater insurance against the future evolution of Panama disease and more variety in our supermarkets. That has to be a good thing in the long run.

Want to know more? Visit the Panama Disease website.

Heavenly Hash Browns

2016-08-07 17.28.05 smSunday is usually a day for cooking an elaborate dinner. But the kids and I were in the city all afternoon, and came home late. After scones for breakfast and leftovers for lunch, none of us really needed a big dinner anyway.

So we had breakfast, instead—fried eggs and hash browns.

They were the first really good hash browns I’d ever made. In the past, my hash browns have been a bit too gummy, a bit too soft.

But thanks to the Internet, I had many hash brown recipes at my fingertips today (yes, it’s been that long since I made them—I had only cook books before).

So, I tried a new method today, and hit it just right.

After grating my potatoes, I rinsed them well, and squeezed the excess water out of them. I tossed them with salt and pepper and fried them in a non-stick skillet with a generous quantity of clarified butter.

They were everything a hash brown should be—salty, crispy, and greasy.

Looks like hash browns are back on the menu!

When Life Gives You Grapefruits…

2016-08-02 08.06.47Make cake, of course! I wrote a post last year about this grapefruit cake, and it’s worth another. Maybe it is the short winter days, but I’ve been thinking about grapefruit cake lately. So I was thrilled when the neighbour dropped of a box of grapefruits over the weekend.

His wife apparently doesn’t like them, so we luck out each year when the grapefruits ripen on his tree. We made grapefruit marmalade two years ago…and we’re still working our way through it. It’s good, but we just don’t eat that much of it.

But the cake…that doesn’t sit around. The grapefruit flavour goes so well with the nutty whole wheat flour in the recipe. And it absolutely rocks a cream cheese frosting.

And it has me thinking of other creative ways to use grapefruit. They’re sour and bitter, like limes, so could you make a pie like a key lime pie with them? What about pudding, like orange pudding? Or grapefruit cheesecake? Grapefruit curd? The possibilities are endless…Stay tuned.

Swiss Army Kitchen

2016-08-01 12.36.13My husband and I try to maintain good kitchen utensils and appliances. Our kitchen is well-stocked with mixing bowls, spatulas, knives, and measuring cups. We have a cutting board for every occasion. We have a high-quality tool for every task in the kitchen.

Except one.

We don’t have a single decent can opener.

We used to have two—one each from our pre-marriage days. Neither one worked well, but we limped along with them for 23 years. Last Christmas I decided that, though we don’t use a can opener very often, we deserved a new one. Guess who got a can opener in his stocking?

I happily threw away the two old ones, only to fish one back out of the rubbish when we found that the new one was absolutely useless.

That quarter-century old opener has been growing progressively worse in the past months (I think it knows I threw it away, and it’s bitter about that). Now, instead of reaching for the kitchen drawer when I want to open a can, I’m going to my purse—the can opener on my Swiss Army knife is vastly superior to the one in the kitchen.

One of these days, I’ll try buying another.

Until then, the Swiss Army knife is my new best kitchen tool…