July 4th in Prospect Park
We made a big batch of avocado popsicles
We learned how to kill and clean chickens. It was one of our first dates.
Delicious lunch at True Food Cafe in Denver
Cooking his homemade bacon on our camping trip
Brian with his baby fig tree
That time we made ricotta
Shenanigans and ice cream on our way up Mt. Scott
His sketches of our charcuterie plans
We attempted to make wine with grapes from the backyard
All kinds of homemade pizza in our past and future
Making fresh salsa
Meet Brian. Today is his birthday!
This man has been part of, if not responsible for, many delicious meals and food adventures since we met two years ago at an Asian-themed dinner party in my friend Marcy’s serene backyard
. He was a guest; I was wearing a yukata and ensuring everyone’s enjoyment, namely by refilling sake cups. It was an easy (and serendipitous) gig. I overheard him speaking emphatically about ginger and pork and my ears perked up. He’s held my rapt attention ever since.
All the details are here!
The first time I remember appreciating large-scale string art stands out because Brian and I were on our second date. (A proper introduction of Brian forthcoming!) We went to an adults-only event at Science Museum Oklahoma, where there was an impressive floor-to-ceiling string-art installation alongside a staircase. In the name of science, we played in the mirror maze, tossed a big frisbee, drank cocktails, dodged flying ping-pong balls, and ate liquid nitrogen cheese balls that gave us smoky breath. Or maybe we just smashed the frozen puffs with a hammer? That part is fuzzy. But the string art stuck with me as something I’d like to try.
I pondered the best location and color combinations. I browsed Pinterest. But what eventually propelled me was the appeal of a low-tech garden trellis made with wood scraps and readily available supplies. I especially liked the thought of bright, orderly strings among the green, beautiful mess that my garden becomes by late summer. And then I decided to place the temporary installation just where the morning glories have climbed for the last three summers. I enjoyed the bare strings for a while, but eventually the tendrils found them and the mass of vines has climbed higher than ever before.
Here’s the incomplete life cycle:
Sometime this winter I’ll disassemble the trellis. I am certain that removing the vines is going to reveal a tangled mess of string — a result of warped wood and tension that caused nails to pop out of the board. I’d like to create something semi-permanent in the yard and/or house, but with different, more resilient materials. Please share suggestions!
Ever-present in my refrigerator are free-range, local chicken eggs. (I’m such a lucky girl!) I rarely feel like my kitchen is empty because with these, I know I can cook up something quite tasty, even if it’s simply a fried egg. So when Hank Shaw shared his guidance for preserving egg yolks, I knew I had to give it a try. I’ve come to appreciate food preservation that requires minimal effort — in this case, the salt does all the work. Apparently, salt can transform an egg yolk into a Parmesan-like substance to take your roasted vegetables or pasta to another level. You can read his post for the details, but basically, bury the yolks in salt for a week, then wrap them in cheesecloth and let them dry out for another week or more. Seeing the yolks dangling in my refrigerator made me very pleased!
After a week or so, I wrapped them in cheesecloth and hung them from an oven insert I bought during my stint at Williams-Sonoma, but I’ve never actually used for its intended purpose. The yolks were tacky and oozed (a bit) through the cloth.
Monday night I went to Braum’s for a few groceries. I wanted to buy Parmesan, but they didn’t have any. No problem! I have my egg yolks, I thought. And tonight I finally tried them grated on my supper — zucchini pasta with pesto, onions, and tomatoes. It was delicious! The perfect salty richness to complement the vegetables.
And if you’re wondering what I did with the egg whites — well, this guy got a special treat, of course!
Last night I made some Indian food and thought that merited some activity here other than the occasional spambot comment.
My friend John gave me a quart of raw milk on Saturday, and rather than say, drink it, I decided to make paneer, a fresh Indian cheese. I’ve made fresh cheese a couple of times; the process is very easy and adaptable with spices and herbs. (This lovely towel, which I used to wrap and press the paneer, was a thoughtful gift from my talented friend, Dawn.)
The decision to make paneer proved wise, given the presence of other ingredients in my kitchen that, when combined, make aloo matar paneer: red potatoes that were starting to show their age, a bag of frozen peas that were long overdue their use, and well-stocked spice shelves. I used this recipe as a guide.
So, to recap — Saturday: received milk. Monday: made paneer. Wednesday: made Indian dish. Not even a trip to the grocery store was required! This is the way I like to do things, when given the opportunity.
I took Thursday afternoon off from work to join fellow urban agriculture advocates at a meeting of the OKC Planning Commission. We sat through nearly three hours of mind-numbing discussion before our agenda item — a comprehensive urban agriculture ordinance — was up for consideration. But it was worth the wait to hear the commissioners earnestly discuss matters of compost storage and rainwater harvesting. Most eagerly anticipated were the provisions allowing for backyard chickens: six hens per city lot! Sara Braden, a dedicated champion of the cause, spoke eloquently before the commission and expressed the group’s appreciation for the planning department’s efforts. The measure passed unanimously; next it goes to the City Council, with a vote tentatively set for December 31.
Some of my friends were more prepared than I for the grueling city meeting: Christine brought a novel and Sara had her crochet project. I decided to try out haiku, inspired by the matters at hand:
backyard food for everyone
gather, eat, repeat
gentle clucking soothes
cast seed sparkles in the sun
and the quiche is served
clean food, full bellies
nourishment just steps away
empower us now
And as the hours progressed…
testing endurance eyes glaze
faithful get restless
shut blinds prevent lust
for two hours of sunlight gone
now where is my book?
hard seats in the church
the congregation fights sleep
SPUDs are not tubers
My “summer of the pickle” turned out to be a flop. After my first tasty batch, the others were disappointing, if not inedible. I forgot to add a grapeleaf to the horseradish pickles and they were a mushy mess. The dill tasted off. Some of the pickles were mottled. While fermentation is an inexact art, I’ve been doing some research to try to pinpoint where I went wrong. This is the best troubleshooting guide that I’ve found. So far I’ve learned:
- Certain cucumber varieties turn to mush during fermentation
- Summertime fermenting might be destined to fail in my too-warm kitchen
- In addition to adding a grapeleaf (or teabag) to keep the cucumbers crisp, I should trim off the blossom end, which removes the source for the enzyme that causes things to go soft
- Sunlight or incomplete fermentation could cause discoloration.