5.17.2013

Better late than never


Do you ever get tired of reading this blog? I mean, do you ever wish you could simply listen, or maybe just watch rather than use precious brain power to decipher letters into words into sentences into paragraphs into sense? Well, you are in for a treat today!

You may recall how, last year, a string of guest bloggers waxed poetic about dates, and being vegetarian, and choosing the correct tool with which to spread peanut butter on Dispatches from the Dinner Table. There was another guest lined up, waiting in the wings, but his post didn't materialize. Until the other day, when (over a year later) it showed up in the form of a link to a video he had made. A 13-minute-long video just for Dispatches from the Dinner Table! I must admit I was quite impressed.

So, allow me to introduce you to my latest and greatest guest blogger Cameron: He's a schoolteacher and serious Canucks fan. He is very fun to banter with, can recount all sorts of movie trivia and is allergic to apples (among other fruit). He loves competition and Snifty Snakes (among other games). He likes beer, and sleeping, and also cats. He dislikes cilantro, cleaning (as you will soon see) and loud chewing. You can hear more of Cameron on What's the Deal, a podcast series in which Cameron and his friends Patrick and Chris discuss every single episode of Seinfeld. 

Now, prepare yourselves for cooking as you've never seen it before!

ACTION!


4.29.2013

A sip of Spring


Out like a lion, these last few days of April. Nothing but bluff and bluster; the wind skimming across thigh-high grass, shaking loose the last of the magnolia flowers, knocking milk crates over into an untidy pile. A swirl of raindrops here, a streak of warm sun there, dark simmering blue sky in the mountaintop distance. 

Things are as lush and green and full as far as my eye can see. 


We open the window at night to let the cool breeze and chorus of a million frogs multiplying and rattle of the trains across the tracks in. 

Life has been a whirl lately. Transplanting. Sunburns. Baby goats (kids). Plenty of visitors. Fishing by the river. Cows leaping, let out to pasture. Our first market! Rhubarb.


Can I tell you about the flowers? There were snowdrops on cemetery hillsides, daffodils, acres of tulips and a succession of cherry blossoms. The apple trees are blooming, the lilacs deepening into purple and alongside every road stands an elderberry bush or two, flush with fragrant white flowers.

They are easy to gather, and with them you can make an elixir that captures the scent of these sweet, cool, hopeful days.


Elderflower Cordial

20 (about 225g) elderflower heads
1 kg sugar
1.25 L water
2 lemons, cut into quarters
2 limes, cut into quarters

Inspect the flowers for insects and dust. Shake or quickly rinse, but don't wash them. Remove the toughest stalks with scissors; they are likely to be bitter.

Warm the sugar and water together in a large saucepan til the sugar has dissolved, then remove from the heat. Dunk the flowers and the quartered fruit into the syrup and set aside to cool. When the liquid is cold, cover and refrigerate for at least 24 hours. Strain through a fine sieve and decant into sterilized bottles.


This is an excellent use for your elderflower cordial:

Elderflower Collins

If you don't have your own elderflower cordial, try using Belvoir Elderflower Pressé. It's already bubbly so you won't need any sparkling water.

1 measure elderflower liqueur (like St. Germain or Island Spirits Distillery's Holunderbluten)
1 measure gin (I am partial to Victoria Spirits' version)
elderflower cordial
sparkling or soda water

Mix elderflower liqueur and gin together, top with cordial and finish with a splash or two of sparkling or soda water.

3.14.2013

Salads for all seasons


Today, I have salad on the brain. Never mind that there's not much green growing around here, except for the grass. Even in the dead of winter I believe it's possible to make delicious and seasonal salads. You know what I think the secret to that is? A well-stocked pantry. That means having a whole whack of oils, vinegars, dried fruits, nuts, seeds, grains and legumes right at your fingertips. Pick and choose from these staples as your mood or imagination or the weather dictates, add whatever is freshest, juiciest or ripest and you'll end up with an easy, satisfying and healthy meal.

In the Spring and Summer I tend to make salads that are light and refreshing whereas in the Fall and Winter I want something heartier and filling. Whatever the time of year, I follow roughly the same formula when making a salad. I start by making a dressing in the bottom of a big bowl that I'll serve the salad in or eat out of (if it's just me). The essential elements of a typical salad dressing are some sort of fat (any kind of oil, cream, buttermilk or yogurt) emulsified with an acid (vinegar and/or lemon juice)  combined with a bit of salt and a crack of freshly ground black pepper. There's talk about the ideal ratio between oil and vinegar for salad dressings - anywhere from 2:1 to 5:1.  It all comes down to personal preference. I like my dressings on the sharper side so I add less oil in proportion to vinegar. Experiment and discover what you like best! Other things I might add to a salad dressing include: mustard, honey, jam, jelly or preserves, any kind of citrus juice (orange, grapefruit, lime, etc.), maybe some chopped up garlic or ginger, occasionally a splash of pickle juice! Unusual ingredients inspired by a particular cuisine might include pomegranate or date molasses, tahini or rosewater (Middle Eastern); miso paste, soy or fish sauce (Asian). Whisk all the ingredients you've chosen for your dressing together and then taste it! At this point it should be much saltier/stronger/sharper/brighter than you'd expect the final salad to taste like. This is as it should be since the dressing will be tempered by the ingredients you have yet to add. At the same time, you want it to be balanced. If it's really sweet or rich you might need to add a bit of vinegar; conversely if it's too acidic, add some oil. When you're first starting to concoct your own salad dressings keep it simple. It's easier to adjust the taste of a salad dressing with only four ingredients than one with eight. One more thing: If you're planning on using raw onion in your salad you might want to add it at this point. If you slice it thinly and let it sit in the dressing while you prepare the rest of your ingredients you'll find that the acidity of the vinegar softens the onion and mellows its flavour.

Now that the dressing is made, it's time to get to the substance of the salad. In my opinion the heart of any salad is the fresh vegetables and fruit you put into it. These should be of an awesome quality because it's what's going to make your salad delicious and nutritious! Making a salad in the Spring (with so many fresh green things) or Summer (such abundance) is pretty easy. Doing so in Winter might be challenging but also rewarding. Winter squash, sweet potatoes or parsnips can be roasted. There's always onions and potatoes around. Brussels sprouts, cabbage, carrots, cauliflower, broccoli and beets can be used raw or cooked. There's kale and collard greens, Belgian and curly endive, radicchio. Don't forget crisp celery or fennel (and their leaves or fronds). Use avocados, sprouts, mushrooms. As Fall fades to Winter there are still persimmons and grapes, pears and apples. Oranges, grapefruit, pomegranates and kiwifruit are all at their best in Winter. I especially like contrasting textures in a Winter salad so I'll often roast some vegetables while leaving others raw. Anytime you roast or saute a vegetable you can add herbs or spices that will transport you to any corner of the globe - say cumin, coriander and sumac for a Middle Eastern experience or cardamom and curry leaves to channel India. (I think I'm going to have to talk about spices in another post. I am beyond wordy as it is). The way in which you prepare each vegetable for your salad makes a difference. You might shred carrots and beets and cabbage for a winter slaw. You might combine fat hunks of roasted squash with torn kale leaves for a rustic salad. You might finely slice beets or fennel using a mandoline if you're going for a refined look. You can slice your pear or cut it into fine cubes. Think about colour. Do you want to work with an all-green palette or would you like a vibrant mix of oranges, purples, whites and greens?

I really like to bulk out my Winter salads, adding almost anything and everything. Grains with a toothsome texture, like wheat, spelt or rye berries are particularly nice. I'll slice stale bread into fat croutons which I'll drizzle with olive oil, sprinkle with salt, maybe some pepper and toast to a rich brown. I love adding dried fruit to Winter salads; you get a punch of concentrated sweetness and sense of warmth. Throw smaller dried fruit (like raisins or cranberries) in whole and give larger fruits (such as dates, apricots or pears) a quick chop. I think the more kinds of nuts and seeds you use the merrier. I like to toast mine before I toss them in (though you could also get real fancy and candy 'em). If I have cheese around (which these days I often do) that goes in as well, maybe grated or sliced, or in chunks. If you want more protein you could add some leftover meat, or a hard-boiled egg, or some canned fish. Consider olives or capers or pickles. A friend of mine has been using a microplane to finely grate chocolate into her salads! People, it's hard to go wrong.

Think about everything in your salad - how you're going to pick it up with your fork, how it's going to feel in your mouth, how it's going to taste and look combined with everything else. You'll find it becomes easier and easier to imagine what kind of salad you want to create as you make more salads and eat more salads. You'll have a rummage through the fridge and cupboards and improvise from there. It'll be fun and rewarding. I think of us as artists. All the goodies we have in tins and jars and plastic bags are our paints and pencils and canvases. We use our creativity and a bit of inspiration (perhaps from a cookbook) to craft a beautiful dish, our version of a painting. Instead of hanging it on a wall we get to eat it!

Here's some of my sketches from Winter days past:


This is a simple yet classic winter salad. Slivers of raw fennel, grapefruit segments and avocado slices with salad greens.


I took some notes on this lovely, monochromatic salad after I made it: pear (juicy, crisp); cauliflower roasted with olive oil, salt and pepper and some fennel seeds (savour/crunch/slight liquorice notes); shaved raw cauliflower (variety of textures); toasted pine nuts (buttery, smooth richness); currants (a ball of sweetness); picked onions (acidic tang, silky texture); olives (briny/salty) and sheep's milk feta (rich but sharp, creamy and tangy). A beautiful salad to behold with lots of complex, interesting flavours going on.


Here's a hearty winter salad with roasted cauliflower and squash, shreds of raw radicchio and kale, pieces of persimmon, leftover sorghum and a combination of pecans, pumpkin and hemp seeds.


Finally, in this salad we have Israeli couscous cooked with garlic and celery, cooled, mixed with slivers of red onion soaked in sherry vinegar and orange juice, black pepper, olive oil, shreds of roasted red pepper, an assortment of olives (shrivelled black and pungent green), very sour dried cherries, peppery arugula, roasted cauliflower and carrots (sprinkled with dukkah), orange segments and crumbled sheep's feta.

I hope you find this post useful and are inspired to create some tremendous and tasty salads of your own!

2.12.2013

The start of it


To see the shades of early Spring light, grey and oranged on bare branches, dazzling electric green on grasses. The leaves of last Fall have sunk into the soil and now smell of it - new dirt, fresh earth, soon to be planted, soon to sprout with seedlings sown. Seedlings to feed us, and those we know, and those we don't and may never will. Light lengthens upon light, stretching each day wider, till it shifts enough to be sensed, enough to name otherwise. Dormancy over, Spring has arrived.


This Spring is something different for David and I. The kernel of the idea we've shared - to work with our hands, growing and tending - has been watered and weeded and nurtured and, in short, experienced just the right conditions to finally break the surface of the soil. This year will be our first year farming! We don't have any land yet. We are borrowing, with the greatest gratitude, the two acres on which we will grow basil, beets, broccoli, Brussels sprouts, carrots, celeraic, cilantro, collards, cucumbers, dill, fennel, fava beans, green beans, kohlrabi, kale, leeks, mustard greens, parsley, parsnips, peppers, potatoes, radicchio, salad greens, scallions, sugar snap peas, sweet onions, Swiss chard, winter squash, zucchini and more! We are learning the ins-and-outs of GST returns, over-the-border brokerage, net worth statements, web design and the difference between vector and raster images. There is crop planning, soil analysis, the search for compost, ordering walk-behind tractors and hoes and harrows and seeds and salad spinners - every kind of tool we'll need for the intensive, organic kind of agriculture we aim to practice. Right now we're still in the theoretical realm - planning, scheming, dreaming.


But, the sun is starting to send out whispers of Spring. Soon, we'll be in the thick of it; plans put into action; our bodies, not just our heads, hard at work. I don't know what Spring will be like in Agassiz - if there will be cherry blossoms or daffodils. I don't know about Summer either. I expect it will be hot and humid and that the corn will reach sky-high and I hope there are a good deal less mosquitoes than in Alberta and I know that I'm looking forward to it, however it will be. 

Can I quote some Tom Petty?

There's somethin' lucky about this place
There's somethin' good comin'
For you and me
Somethin' good comin'
There has to be.


1.31.2013

Hello again


(Silence).

Yes, I know. That's what it's been like around here as of late. I'm sorry.

To tell you the truth, there have been some changes around here. Big ones. 


In October, David and I loaded up our new truck, our new trailer, said sayonara to Alberta and hightailed it back to B.C. As we crossed the bridge, narrow and metal-framed, slanting upwards over the Fraser river, that delivers you to Agassiz my shoulders slumped in sheer relief to be back. I was here last Fall, doing a cheese-making internship that I wrote about very briefly. In fact, I was meaning to tell you more but somehow never did. Well, let me tell you this: every day that I was here felt like magic. I rode my bike to work past cornfields, donkeys, barking dogs (that chased me down the road), pumpkin patches, windrows of hay drying in the sun. The hillsides were freckled with yellow, with orange, with green. The mist moved over everything so that nothing ever looked the same. And when it wasn't there Mt. Cheam could be seen, rising stony and sometimes snow-flecked, so downright majestic I would always gasp. I trained with some of the strongest, funniest and wisest women I have ever met. There was another intern who happened to be my doppelgänger and is now one of my best friends. I lived with a family, everyone in it so entirely unique and great, that welcomed me into their fold. So, when an opportunity arose to come back, to all of this, and this time with David too, well, I said YES! Every time I cross that bridge into Agassiz I get giddy. My stomach butterflies, my lips curl upwards, my eyes probably shine. I can't believe I'm actually here. That, after ten years of different cities, basement suites, and roommates, after so many moves and travels, I finally, finally feel like I have landed. I am home.


I've got so much more to tell you. The silence is over!