I was very excited to attempt to make biscuits with rendered lard. I found a couple recipes online. I find it annoying that I had to use the internet to find a recipe for a centuries-old concept. And I am still disappointed that my new book, Fat (as in cooking fats), doesn’t have a biscuit recipe. None of my cookbooks have recipes that call for lard. Where can I find recipes that use real, minimally processed fats? Or can I just substitute lard when recipes call for shortening?

I was optimistic as I made that morning batch (indeed, there was more than one batch). The dough was a pleasure to work with, not heavy or sticky like the previous—albeit few—biscuit recipes I’ve tried.

But, the biscuits didn’t rise. And it wasn’t until clean-up that I realized I forgot to add the salt. And…I wasn’t exactly sure that I stuck to one recipe. (I had two very similar recipes on the counter.) Apparently, baking should not commence until I’ve had a cup of coffee.

Some good news came out of breakfast, though. We opened a jar of the ground cherry jam and it was truly a jam, not a runny “topping.” (It was still runny when I put the jars away back in October.) It was very tasty on the hockey-puck biscuit.

Sunday flew by; I dried a batch of grapefruit rinds in the oven. It made the kitchen smell of sugar cookies. I decided to attempt biscuits again for supper with a ground beef, gravy, and vegetable mixture ladled on top. I cranked up the oven to 400˚ and proceeded to follow one recipe. All of sudden, the sugar cookie smell was polluted by the smell of acrid, smoking grapefruit rind. I had forgotten to remove the rinds from the oven!

In all that commotion, I turned off the oven. And then I put the biscuits in the oven without remembering to turn the oven back on. I was happy to see the biscuits rising, but was puzzled when the biscuits were taking far longer than the 15 minutes the recipe called for. Luckily, Matt noticed that the oven was off. Once it heated back up, the biscuits finished baking but the bottoms were burned. Overall, though, their texture showed promise. I’m betting the third time will be a charm. I’ll be sure to report back.

More to come…

I read Real Food by Nina Planck several months (maybe even a year) ago. It’s like In Defense of Food by Michael Pollan, but more simplistic. Both have their merits, but I took away more from Real Food probably because it was easier to digest. Though, In Defense of Food may go further in convincing any skeptics that low-fat is a bunch of bologna.

Back to lard: In Planck’s book, she talks about fatty acids, raw milk, real meat, and all sorts of interesting stuff. She raves about coconut oil, which I haven’t yet tried. She also lauds lard. Surprisingly, lard seemed more accessible to me because it doesn’t impart any porky flavor, while coconut oil may be more limiting as a cooking fat because of the flavor. Plus, it seems lard is the key ingredient for delicious baking, refried beans, tortillas, fried chicken—decidedly awesome things to have in my culinary arsenal.

I bought some pig fat from Rowdy Stickhorse and stored it in the freezer until one brave weekend when our friends, Chelsey and Jeff, visited. Matt and Jeff bottled beer. Chelsey and I rendered lard (we also made pasta, but that’s another post).

It’s a simple process that I managed to screw up. You just put the cubed pig fat into a dutch oven with 1/2 cup or so of water. Cook it on the stove top over medium low until it is fully melted (rendered) and the cracklings float to the bottom. Apparently lard can burn very easily. Or maybe I just wasn’t paying enough attention. I had to transfer the lard to a different burner, so, to compensate, I cranked up the heat on the new burner. Once it started smelling bad, I realized what happened and turned down the heat. After the render was complete, we tested the cracklings. Hopes were high from the inspiring and beautiful blog entry on Homesick Texan, but the cracklings tasted like charred bacon. That was the first clue that the lard experiment was not successful. The second clue was the color. Rendered lard is supposed to be white. Ours was a caramel color. Clue #3: Chelsey took some home and made a pie crust. It stunk up the house and the crust tasted foul. Bummer! But we won’t be deterred! I’m ordering more pork fat in December’s co-op order.

Chelsey slicing the lard. According to Wikipedia, pork fat can be called lard in both its rendered and raw forms.

We’ll know if the guys were successful in a few weeks when we get to taste the beer.

Because of my recent baking blunders, I made a point to work slowly and deliberately. My mind was craving quiet. Peeling off husks and then cutting each gold orb in half was a slow, quiet process. It was a sensory experience—as it should be in the kitchen, but is often lost in the mad dash to get a meal on the table.

It can be challenging to stay in the moment and lately I’ve noticed that more often than not, I’m mindlessly going about tasks (oftentimes “multitasking” myself into a frenzy). All that leaves my brain fuzzy and my memory fried: What did I do today? Was I really listening? I can find beauty and pleasure in most tasks if I slow down enough. It’s about taking time. So, that’s my goal: living mindfully and thankfully.

Back to the jam: all the quiet and calm helped me cope when it wouldn’t set! Oh, well. Now I’ve got plenty of ice cream topping? Any ideas out there? What to do with runny ground cherry jam?

Previous post on ground cherries here.

This is what happens when you add twice as much butter than the recipe calls for (unintentional, of course):

In my head 1 stick of butter was 1/4 cup. So, since the recipe called for 1/2 cup of butter, I added two sticks. When I was puzzled by the outcome of the cookies, I figured it was just another bad recipe. But, from Deborah Madison? I think not. While I was trying to fall asleep, it occurred to me that 1 stick of butter is 1/2 cup. Damn.

They are still tasty—just very crumbly and…well, buttery.

I have no idea what happened with the “tire brownies” as Matt calls them. I used whole white wheat flour instead of all-purpose flour. I expected a dense brownie, perhaps, but not funky old tire nastiness. Bah.

Cardamom-butter cookies with iced coffee.

Cardamom Cookies
from Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone by Deborah Madison

:: 1/4 pound unsalted butter (1/2 cup)
:: 1/2 c powdered sugar, plus extra for tops
:: 2 T granulated sugar
:: 1 egg yolk
:: 1 t ground cardamom (a very divine, autumny spice)
:: 3/8 t salt
:: 1 1/4 c flour

Cream the butter and sugars until light and fluffy, then beat in the egg yolk. Stir in the cardamom, salt, and flour. Divide the dough in two, roughly shape each piece into a log about 1 inch thick, then roll in plastic wrap or wax paper. Pull each log through your thumb and first finger to make it even and, if you prefer, longer and narrower. Refrigerate until firm or freeze until ready to use.

Preheat oven to 375˚. Cut the dough into 1/4-inch rounds or diagonals and set them on cookie sheets at least 1 inch apart. Bake until pale golden on top and lightly browned around the edges, 8–10 minutes. Cool. Serve plain or dusted with powdered sugar.

Good luck and enjoy!

I came across one of these plants—cleavers— in my yard and thought I’d share a picture. Not sure if this will be enough for you to identify it. Consider looking up more photos. It’s bright green and the leaves are a little fuzzy. It’s not so good fresh—a little tough—but dried, it makes a tea high in vitamin C.

Another non-garden food source: sprouts! We grew some wheat berry sprouts for our salads. They taste a little nutty. Sprouts are a superfood—and according to Wikipedia—are the most nutrient-dense food. But the claim is missing its citation. For shame! Anyway, they’re good for you and fun. I use the Easy Sprout Sprouter. My first attempt was with hulless barley. That was unsuccessful. They started smelling horrid because I wasn’t shaking enough of the water out after each rinse. You must shake vigorously. I have heard of, but not done much research on, making breads with sprouted wheat berries. I guess the heat does not damage all of the nutrients in that fragile little sprout? I will have to look into this because I don’t think we will be able to eat this entire batch of sprouts.

When wheat berries were first offered in the co-op, I was confused. What is a wheat berry? I have learned that a wheat berry is another term for the grain that develops from the grass we know as wheat. It’s the kernels in the ear. The ear is that spiky thing at the top of the stalk shown in those quintessential Americana photographs. Wheat berries are milled into flour. The wheat berry is made of the bran, endosperm, and germ. In white flour, the berries are milled and the germ is sifted out because it contains the unsaturated fat that can go rancid. White flour can more easily survive our food supply system.

So, it’s the seed, it’s the kernel, it’s the grain, it’s the wheat berry. I was very familiar with wheat berries—I just didn’t know them by name.

I made this just before Christmas as a cozy holiday meal for Matt and me before we headed out of town. And we took the leftovers with us to share with my family in Texas.

:: 1 lb. lasagna noodles
:: extra olive oil for coating the pasta, brushing the potatoes, and greasing the dish
:: 2 medium sweet potatoes, peeled and sliced into 1/4-inch-thick rounds (We were lucky to get some beauties from Crestview Farms back in October.)
:: 2 T butter
:: 2 T olive oil
:: 3 medium Spanish or other sweet onions, sliced into 1/4-inch-thick rings
:: 1 t sugar
:: 1 large egg, slightly beaten
:: 3 T chopped fresh basil, or 2 t dried basil
:: 1 T chopped fresh oregano, or 1 t dried oregano
:: 2 cloves garlic, minced
:: 1 t salt
:: 3 c ricotta cheese
:: 1/2 c mixed grated Parmesan and Romano cheeses
:: 1/2 lb. butternut squash, cooked and mashed
:: 1 lb. mozzarella cheese, thinly sliced
:: freshly ground black pepper

1. Cook the pasta until al dente, drain, and coat with enough olive oil to keep the noodles from sticking. Set aside. NOTE: I don’t see any reason why you couldn’t use the non-boil type of noodles to save time.
2. Preheat the oven to 475˚.
3. Spread the sweet potatoes in one layer on a baking sheet. Drizzle a little oil (about 1/4 t) over the potatoes and turn to coat both sides. Bake for 15 minutes, until cooked and lightly golden. Remove and set aside. Reduce the oven heat to 375˚.
4. Melt the butter along with the 2 T oil in a large skillet. Stir in the onions and sugar and sauté over medium heat for 20 minutes, until soft and beginning to turn golden. Set aside.

5. Place the egg, basil, oregano, garlic, and salt in a large bowl and whisk together. Add the ricotta and grated cheeses and whisk to smooth. Add the squash and mix to blend well. Set aside.

6. To assemble the lasagne, lightly oil a 13×9-inch deep baking pan. Line the bottom with a layer of noodles. Spread some of the cheese and squash mixture over the noodles. Add a layer of sweet potatoes, then a layer of the onions. Top with a layer of mozzarella and sprinkle with black pepper to taste. Continue until all the ingredients are used and the top is a layer of onions lightly covered with mozzarella.

7. Bake for 1 1/2 hours, or until bubbly and golden across the top. Remove and cool for 5 minutes. Cut into squares and serve.

To take the dish in a more savory direction, you can sub other potatoes, such as russets or Yukon Golds, roasted in the same way.

Obviously, this isn’t a weeknight recipe; it’s very time-consuming. Granted, you could chop the potatoes and onions and roast the squash ahead of time. Still, it’s pretty involved, and worth it about once a year.

We also had Cranberry Sauce with Coriander, a recipe I clipped from Natural Health magazine a few years back. The dish had a weird flavor; I think from the red wine. Anyhow, it was more weird bad than weird good, so I doubt I’ll make this cranberry dish again. In fact, I think I’ll just toss this one out.

I’ll share the recipe anyway. Perhaps you’ll want to try it for yourself.

:: 3 c fresh cranberries
:: 1 c red wine
:: 1/2 c sugar
:: 1 orange, sliced
:: 1/2 t whole coriander seed, toasted and crushed (I used ground coriander, because, well, that’s all I could find)

1. In a large bowl, combine cranberries, wine, and sugar; let stand about 1 hour.
2. Preheat oven to 350˚. Pour cranberry mixture into a large ovenproof dish, top with orange slices and sprinkle with coriander seeds. Cover with foil and bake 45 minutes, or until bubbling.

It dawned on my why the sauce is so runny! I used the wrong type of tomato. Sometimes I think I am inexplicably wise and dismiss instructions because (in the zeal of the moment) I doubt they are founded on anything besides mere preference. Ah, foolish confidence!

Well, here I am a complete novice food preserver, and I decide to use the generic, red, round tomato since that was all that was available through the Co-op. Had I opted for a paste tomato, such as a Roma, my virgin tomato sauce would be just that—a sauce, rather than a soup!

So, instead, I add a little canned tomato paste to my too-runny sauce and make do. The pizza was delicious along with the red wine we picked up at the Summerside Winery on our way home from Missouri over Thanksgiving. We tasted several types, but the Route 66 Red was our favorite.

It was made with eggs, milk, a shredded or chopped vegetable (I used zucchini), shredded cheese of choice (I used gouda), parmesan, white pepper, salt, and nutmeg.

I think whole milk would have improved the flavor, but we never have whole milk in the house. I would like to change that by finding a local source for some whole, raw milk. Matt and I agreed more flavor was needed—it was kind of bland and watery from the zucchini releasing water while it cooked. But, with a generous sprinkling of salt and pepper (Matt found it necessary to use Tabasco. hmmm…), it was quite good just okay.

Edit: I think I was trying to sugar-coat this entry. I guess the “Tabasco test” should be in order. If you have to use Tabasco to make a meal palatable, it’s not what you would call “quite good.” Another test: the “Make it again?” test. And the answer to that would be “no. “

Along with the savory custard, we had toasted whole-wheat bread and the Feroli Cabernet Sauvignon to wash it all down.