I’m channeling Michael Jackson’s version of Oz….just a reminder that I’m now blogging at www.nettlenomad.com.
See you there!
Almost back to Asheville……..
A warm, pre-Hurricane Earl Thursday afternoon greeting to all of you! Let me not mince words: I’m moving my website, so that I can better lord (lady?) over all that is mine. Cue the medieval, quasi-feudal music and check out www.nettlenomad.com!
Much like a socially awkward, aggressive adolescent boy, it look like Earl is going to introduce himself in full force sometime tomorrow afternoon. In the mean time, last-minute bread and milk runs were a frequent site today in Cape Cod, and while I understand the practicality of those two items, I can’t help but think that wine, chocolate, salty num-nums and vodka would be on my own list of must-have goods. Whenever I hear of people buying out bread and milk, I’m reminded of two things – Soviet market lines, and a delicacy once described to me by a college roommate, who was convinced that white bread, warm milk and a cup of sugar all mushed together in a bowl was the world’s most ideal comfort food. She claimed that’s what you ate if you were a) rich, and b) lived in Connecticut; I have yet to corroborate that information, but maybe sweet monochrome comfort in spoonable form has a place in the hurricane survival process.
I digress. The Cape was certainly lovely this afternoon, with just a hint of breeze to break up summer’s last heat-stand:
The calm before the storm?
I’m excited to be expanding Nettle Nomad in the coming months, especially since I’ll be rooted again in Asheville, with full access to a kitchen and a bio-region that is blessedly full of interesting folks and vittles. I won’t be going back on the road until December, and I thought I’d put a call for suggestions out into the universe. What would you like to see more of? Commentary? Cool projects? I’m thinking homesteading ideas, green living tips, DIY how-to’s, lost arts (food preservation, canning, fermenting, weaving, natural building), gardening in winter months, farm profiles…….what would YOU like see on this blog?
So make like a hurricane and follow me over to www.nettlenomad.com. And thanks for reading; as someone who’s always wanted to be a writer, but who rarely shared her written words (probably explains why I’ve gotten three stories published in oh, ten years), your collective support and commentary has proven very validating. Maybe it’s time to submit more wordsmithing after all……:)
See you on the new site!
Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »
I think one of the more subtle joys to living in and visiting beautiful places is what happens every time you open your eyes. Beautiful, wild vistas are good for the soul. When I first moved to Wyoming, near the mountains, I remember expressing over the phone to my mother that I would have a hard time living there and being in a bad mood; the view just beyond the threshold of my door, of piercing peaks and blue, blue sky was just too stunning. My words turned out to be slightly premature and naive, but the sentiment remains – encountering natural beauty with every throw of the eye does wonders for me.
We’ve got a full house in Cape Cod this week, with Clover’s parents, sister, brother-in-law and niece and nephew all visiting from Georgia and Boston, respectively. As an only child, I’ve experienced summer stints with cousins, aunts and uncles, but it’s interesting to see the dynamics of how a larger-than-three family works. The children are still pretty young, and I imagine the Cape’s offerings are wonderful for them – beaches to play on, waves to charge and wild bits everywhere in which to seek out little adventures. The house itself is beautiful, full of light and windows overlooking the nearby bay and dunes, and the front yard is home to a thriving beach plum tree. Clover and I are staying summer camp-style, complete with bunk beds:
Call this a "distinguished" look
Being so close to the ocean, it’s appropriate that last night’s meal turned into a seafood fest. Clover’s mother seared scallops with shallots and bacon, and I played around with an old recipe for stuffed fish that quickly turned into this:
Reverse Sweet Potato-Stuffed Tilapia with a Pistachio Crust
2 lbs tilapia fillets, or fish of choice
2 large sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into cubes
1 cup shelled pistachios, crushed with a rolling pin or chopped into rough bits
1/4 cup panko or plain breadcrumbs
1/4 tsp cinnamon
1/4 tsp cumin
salt and pepper
olive oil
1 tbs potato water
For the stuffing:
Bring a pot of water to boil, then add in the sweet potato cubes with a touch of salt. Boil until cooked, for 10-12 minutes. Drain, saving a little water and let cool. Start to mix, adding in the water and a splash of olive oil. Add 1 tsp or so of salt and pepper, the cinnamon and cumin and go to town, mashing until smooth and lump-less.
For the fish:
Preheat the oven to 350. Arrange fish on a shallow baking dish or pan, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Spoon about 2 tbs of the sweet potato puree onto the top of the fillets, and spread to create and even layer.
In a small bowl, mix the breadcrumbs and pistachio bits. Sprinkle a hearty tablespoon or so of the mixture over the sweet potato, so that your fish goes into the oven looking like this:
Bake at 350 for 15 minutes, and serve with a drizzle of fresh lemon.
The finished product
I’m looking forward to today, which, after I finish my tea, is going to involve a dune hike, the beach, and a reading date with Dostoevsky. I’ve decided to reread some of the classic books I loved as a teenager, to see if my perspective on the trials and tribulations of the characters has changed at all over time. The ocean and the Brothers Karamazov will provide me with good company!
What are some of your favorite classics? I used to be borderline-obsessed with the Russians and Soviets – Dostoevsky, Tolstoy, Pushkin, Gogol, Pasternak and Sholokhov (read And Quiet Flows the Don at some point in your life) but I also loved Thomas Hardy’s Return of the Native and other pieces from that period.
I’m switching over to my own domain in the next few days, so I’ll update y’all as changes happen!
Posted in Cooking | Tagged Cape Cod, panko, pistachios, Russian literature, stuffed tilapia, sweet potato stuffing, Thomas Hardy | 3 Comments »
They may be the subject of many a horror film, but I love me an abandoned house. Put one in the middle of the Berkshires, add a barn and a neglected orchard planted in days of old, and you’ve got the perfect turf for late morning exploration and fruit foraging.
Clover and I had an interview set up at the New Economics Institute to discuss Berkshares, a local currency system in place in Berkshire County, Massachusetts. Local currencies are an interesting practice that both encourages the support of local, small businesses while making sure that money stays within a community. A number of towns across the country have systems in place, some of which, like Berkshares and Ithaca’s Ithaca Hours, have printed currency (completely legal, by the way) while other projects work on a barter and service exchange model – Asheville has a LETS system, and Bellingham, WA operates the Fourth Corner Exchange. The currency and barters can be used at a wide variety of businesses and for services ranging from hiring a lawyer to getting a massage to paving your driveway, and I see the idea of local currency as being a practical way to give weight to the localization movement; spending locally encourages stronger community bonds. All of the aforementioned projects have websites, so check them out if you have a minute!
After the interview, we were driving along a back road when I spotted a decaying roof poking out from a grove of trees. I’ve always been intrigued by forgotten buildings; derelict homes, hospitals, prisons, farmsteads and even the simplest stone ruins all have stories behind them, and I can’t help but wonder what events transpired within their walls – joys, tragedies, bits and pieces of history that have long since faded into the annals of time. I’m a sucker for a good ghost story, and I think that’s what initially drew me to explore these places, and from old church crypts in the English countryside to an abandoned sanatorium perched in the high desert of eastern Washington, my solitary, quasi-archaeological explorations provide me with an immediate link to the past, and also make for interesting camera fodder.
The view from a second story bedroom - how many eyes have taken in these hills over the years?
The farmhouse we stumbled upon yesterday was probably built in the mid-1800′s, and was surrounded by an orchard still bearing apples, pears, mulberries and concord grapes. We quickly set about picking apples, and I was especially excited to harvest the grapes. Concords are a favorite of mine, but the market price usually prevents them from roosting in my basket. I loved that they were thriving wildly in the middle of nowhere, with little human intervention – can’t get much more organic than that!
Historical grapes!
I was interested to learn that the first CSA program started in this region, at Indian Line Farm. I’m a big supporter of community-supported agriculture, and I’ve been heartened watching the idea chug and churn into the mainstream vernacular. Our increasing desire to build connections to our food and the folks that produce it is indicative, I think, of bigger changes taking place across our culture, as people yearn for more authenticity in their lives. From food to family to feeling a sense of true community, I’m seeing more and more individuals engaging in activities and breathing life to sentiments based on something real – real needs, real bonds, respect for the planet and for each other – and this gives me hope that we, as a species, can move beyond destruction and wanton consumption to reconnect with the soil beneath our feet and the people that surround us each and every day. Food is just a starting point, but it can be used as a tool to build relationships, build bridges and heal the land while also potentially healing parts of our hearts.
Food is certainly a tool, but it’s also fuel, and since we’re back on the road, fuel needed to happen in the form of something baked, sweet and full of chocolate. While at my parents’ place, I ransacked their cupboards (every returning child’s birthright, methinks) and gathered chocolate chips, pistachios and honey. Since veggies are often in short supply en transit, I decided to incorporate zucchini for good measure, and when I caught a glimpse of a rose bush in the garden, it was clear that this zucchini bread was going to have a Mediterranean feel to it.
Baklava-Inspired Chocolate Zucchini Bread
3 eggs
3/4 cup olive oil (Extra Virgin) or oil of choice
1 cup sugar
2 cups grated zucchini
3 cups flour (I used white whole wheat flour, so choose what fits your needs)
3 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1/2 – 1 cup chopped pistachios (as many as you want)
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
Jar or bottle o’ honey (no need to measure it out quite yet)
A hearty handful of rose petals + 3/4 cup water and 1 tsp sugar
Preheat the oven to 325, and grease down two loaf pans. Make the rose syrup – combine the rose petals, water and 1 tsp of sugar in a small saucepan, and bring to a rolling boil. Let boil for 1 minute, then reduce heat to low and let simmer for ten more minutes. Strain the syrup and remove the petals, then set aside and let cool.
In a large bowl, beat the eggs until frothy, then mix in the oil, rose syrup and sugar. Add in the zucchini.
In a second bowl, combine the dry ingredients – flour, cinnamon, baking soda, baking powder, salt and pistachios. Stir well, then add the wet mixture. Fold in the chocolate chips. Pour half the batter into the loaf pans, half-way full. Drizzle a thin layer of honey all over the surface, then add the remaining batter. Drizzle additional honey over the top.
Bake at 325 for 60 – 70 minutes, or until an inserted knife comes out clean. Garnish with additional pistachios, or, if you can get your hands on rose sorbet or ice cream (check Persian grocery stores), you’ll be happy indeed.
I added more chocolate chips with the honey drizzle for a ribbon effect upon slicing....chocolate, mas!
I’m off to Northampton and Amherst, then Boston and Cape Cod. Massachusetts suggestions, anyone?
Do you participate in a CSA? If not, what are some ideas on how to reconnect to our food supply that are both financially and geographically accessible to most folks?
What are your favorite recipes that include vegetables in places you might not expect to find them?
Posted in Community-Building, Cooking | Tagged Amherst, baklava, Berkshares, Berkshires, Boston, chocolate zucchini bread, concord grapes, New Economics Institute, Northampton, orchards, urban exploration | 4 Comments »
Home. I’ve been throwing the term around a lot lately, using it to describe places that conjure up different emotions in me. Upstate New York is the cradle of my childhood memories, and her hills, farms and spiderweb of long thin lakes remind me both of times and loves ones past. This month I reconnected with family and paid tribute to my family’s history in a narrow valley carved by time and the patience of wind and water, and was able to take Clover along on walking story of the town where my mother grew up, a story punctuated by cabins and cousins, frozen custard stands and a Main Street that has done very little self-editing in the twenty five or so years that I have known it. Consistency, stability, it seems, can be found in boarded up windows and small coffee shops that defy out the onslaught of change.
Home is also Asheville, where I’m building my life out of bricks made from shared ideologies, a need for sustainability and soil that might just be fertile enough to satiate my mental and spiritual needs as well as birthing the foods and herbs which find their way into my kitchen. I’ve adopted Asheville, or she has adopted me, and the family that I’m creating in the city through friends, housemates and loved ones has amazing potential for richness.
And then there’s Nyack, the town I grew up in. I was raised here, schooled here by teachers who I often run into each time I return. My parents still live in the house where I grew up, and should I venture down to the local Irish bar, I’m guaranteed face time with many of the people with whom I used to drive around after school, blaring such musical classics as “I Touch Myself” while hoisting a clothing hanger-affixed sign that read, ever so poignantly, “your mom”. Ah, the substance of high school extracurricular activities. Nyack is where I became a hungry reader, chewing my way through the Children’s Room and their yearly summer reading competition, and it’s also where I became fascinated by historical revolutions and resistance movements. It’s where I subjected my 10th, 11th and 12th grade teachers to an unnatural obsession with all things Russian; history, art, literature, current events….. I may not have been cool, but I was thorough in my devotion to the Russophile way, and just to put it on record, I’d like to offer up a little gratitude to Mr. Burns, Ms. Skidd and Dr. Smith for putting up with my arguably narrow academic interests. Thanks folks – I did outgrow most of it, and I promise that if I ever run into any of you again, there will be no Gogol. Or Bukharin. Yeltsin who? I’ll let sleeping former authoritarians and depressive-but-brilliant writers lie.
Here’s the thing about home; it’s kind of like your family, sometimes inspiring love, other times fueling sentiments a little darker. But heaven forbid someone else mess with your kin, your clan.
Or your mom (just wanted to type that twice in one post, for nostalgia). Blood runs thick, they say.
Should such a violation occur, out come the proverbial claws; our desire to protect our families is truly primal, and it doesn’t matter who or what is encroaching upon them near the berry bush – you’re gonna defend your cubs.
Mama Bear just came out of the cave.
My hometown is being developed at breakneck speed, and the trees are coming down just as fast. In the past two years, I’ve seen slope after slope clear-cut of foliage, patches of wild earth that are now host to a parasitic network of shoddily constructed houses. In addition to forsaking the pride of craftsmanship, these houses are beyond expensive, and are jacking up the cost of living for everyday people and creating a community that is less and less accessible to working classes across the demographic spectrum. I am not okay with this. I am not okay with creating even more of a wealth gap in a town that I remember as being reasonably open to the blue collar world, immigrants and historically-oppressed communities. I am not okay with declaring war on the small bastions of green wilderness that we have left in the suburbs, which are already few and far between. I am not okay with throwing away Main Street culture in the name of big box discounts, and I am certainly not okay with displacing animals from their habitats, so that they wander, semi-domesticated, into the the throes of suburbia where we talk about how to “deal” with them, as if the whole situation were their fault. Curious. I’ve yet to see a white-tailed deer operating a bulldozer. I did see this one about ten feet from my parent’s house, however:
My species is swallowing your habitat. Eat my garden - it might level the playing field a bit.
Giving the cold shoulder to developers? Or simply looking for the Lorax to magically appear?
I can’t help but recall driving through the devastation that is an old-growth clear cut. The Pacific Northwest is riddled with them, and the fields and gullies full of severed stumps, dry earth and mangled limbs that once were thriving forests made me sick to my stomach. They looked like war zones, the no-mans’ lands I’d seen pictures of in books. I guess it would be more appropriate to call them too-many-mans’ lands; this is what happens when greed and a lack of respect for the planet band together, build muscle, and use that muscle to pick up a chainsaw:
Clear cutting removes flood buffers, anihilates forest carbon sinks, kills biodiversity and by robbing the planet of her lungs, contributes to global warming. Is it possible to change our habits of resource consumption and alter our relationship with nature to stop these kinds of practices? I certainly hope so. In the mean time, I just want them to stop the wanton development in my hometown, so all ye Nyack quick-buck builders and abusers, please stop cutting down trees. We don’t need more McMansions or a third Target. Homeowners don’t like mudslides and flooding basements, and deer really don’t enjoy being hit by cars while crossing the street to a patch of scrub. Just stop.
Insert transition, so that I may go from environmental soapbox to sorbet. One of the perks to being in my parent’s house is a fully stocked, clean kitchen, which means I get time to experiment. Summer fruit and herb bounty is always plentiful, and I love combining the two; sweet fruit and spicy, pungent herbs make for terraced tasting. The flavors build on one another, enhancing and deepening the tongue’s experience, and so today I made a homemade sorbet out of two stone fruits – fresh peaches and ground cherries – with a touch of thyme. Ground cherries can be found in forests (the non-clearcut variety) throughout the Northeast, and they come in their own little “parchment” packaging.
I'm a big fan of organic packaging. Mother Nature knows how to recycle.
I’m gonna use this peach, ground cherry and thyme sorbet tonight as part of a savory dish.
Peach, Ground Cherry and Thyme Sorbet
5 ripe peaches, pitted and sliced into wedges
1 cup ground cherries, with the husks and stems removed (you can substitute regular cherries for a vibrantly red and equally delicious sorbet)
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons honey
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp fresh thyme leaves, off the stem
In a small pan, combine the sugar, honey and water. Cook over a medium flame until the sugar dissolves, then bring to a boil for one minute – kindly refrain from stirring as it boils. Remove the pan from heat, and allow it to cool off.
Put the peaches, cherries, salt, thyme and cooled off sweet syrup into a blender, and process until smooth. If you have an ice cream maker, pour in the sorbet-to-be and freeze. If you don’t have one, fear not, for the spirit of DIY (do-it-yourself) shall lead you to an empty metal coffee canister or metal bowl. Add the mixture, cover and freeze.
It’s extra pretty if you serve it with a sprig of fresh thyme!
Blackberry and sage is another killer fruit-herb combination – I’ve made a sorbet version before, and it makes a simple pound cake quite wonderful indeed. What are some of your favorite eccentric flavor combinations?
So tonight, as an ode to my father’s Southern roots and my own adopted homeland, I’m cooking down-home style. There will be collards.
Sometimes, in life, grits (and grit) are necessary.
Has your hometown changed over the years? For better or for worse? How do you feel about development – is it a necessary or inevitable occurrence? And just where is the Lorax?
Posted in Commentary, Cooking | Tagged blackberry and sage sorbet, clearcutting, deer, going home, greed, grits, ground cherries, habitat destruction, Hudson Valley, McMansions, Nyack, overdeveloment, Pacific Northwest clear cuts, peach and thyme sorbet, Southern food, urban sprawl | 5 Comments »
Home. I’ve been throwing the term around a lot lately, using it to describe places that conjure up different emotions in me. Upstate New York is the cradle of my childhood memories, and her hills, farms and spiderweb of long thin lakes remind me both of times and loves ones past. This month I reconnected with family and paid tribute to my family’s history in a narrow valley carved by time and the patience of wind and water, and was able to take Clover along on walking story of the town where my mother grew up, a story punctuated by cabins and cousins, frozen custard stands and a Main Street that has done very little self-editing in the twenty five or so years that I have known it. Consistency, stability, it seems, can be found in boarded up windows and small coffee shops that defy out the onslaught of change.
Home is also Asheville, where I’m building my life out of bricks made from shared ideologies, a need for sustainability and soil that might just be fertile enough to satiate my mental and spiritual needs as well as birthing the foods and herbs which find their way into my kitchen. I’ve adopted Asheville, or she has adopted me, and the family that I’m creating in the city through friends, housemates and loved ones has amazing potential for richness.
And then there’s Nyack, the town I grew up in. I was raised here, schooled here by teachers who I often run into each time I return. My parents still live in the house where I grew up, and should I venture down to the local Irish bar, I’m guaranteed face time with many of the people with whom I used to drive around after school, blaring such musical classics as “I Touch Myself” while hoisting a clothing hanger-affixed sign that read, ever so poignantly, “your mom”. Ah, the substance of high school extracurricular activities. Nyack is where I became a hungry reader, chewing my way through the Children’s Room and their yearly summer reading competition, and it’s also where I became fascinated by historical revolutions and resistance movements. It’s where I subjected my 10th, 11th and 12th grade teachers to an unnatural obsession with all things Russian; history, art, literature, current events….. I may not have been cool, but I was thorough in my devotion to the Russophile way, and just to put it on record, I’d like to offer up a little gratitude to Mr. Burns, Ms. Skidd and Dr. Smith for putting up with my arguably narrow academic interests. Thanks folks – I did outgrow most of it, and I promise that if I ever run into any of you again, there will be no Gogol. Or Bukharin. Yeltsin who? I’ll let sleeping former authoritarians and depressive-but-brilliant writers lie.
Here’s the thing about home; it’s kind of like your family, sometimes inspiring love, other times fueling sentiments a little darker. But heaven forbid someone else mess with your kin, your clan.
Or your mom (just wanted to type that twice in one post, for nostalgia). Blood runs thick, they say.
Should such a violation occur, out come the proverbial claws; our desire to protect our families is truly primal, and it doesn’t matter who or what is encroaching upon them near the berry bush – you’re gonna defend your cubs.
Mama Bear just came out of the cave.
My hometown is being developed at breakneck speed, and the trees are coming down just as fast. In the past two years, I’ve seen slope after slope clear-cut of foliage, patches of wild earth that are now host to a parasitic network of shoddily constructed houses. In addition to forsaking the pride of craftsmanship, these houses are beyond expensive, and are jacking up the cost of living for everyday people and creating a community that is less and less accessible to working classes across the demographic spectrum. I am not okay with this. I am not okay with creating even more of a wealth gap in a town that I remember as being reasonably open to the blue collar world, immigrants and historically-oppressed communities. I am not okay with declaring war on the small bastions of green wilderness that we have left in the suburbs, which are already few and far between. I am not okay with throwing away Main Street culture in the name of big box discounts, and I am certainly not okay with displacing animals from their habitats, so that they wander, semi-domesticated, into the the throes of suburbia where we talk about how to “deal” with them, as if the whole situation were their fault. Curious. I’ve yet to see a white-tailed deer operating a bulldozer. I did see this one about ten feet from my parent’s house, however:
My species is swallowing your habitat. Eat my garden - it might level the playing field a bit.
Giving the cold shoulder to developers? Or simply looking for the Lorax to magically appear?
I can’t help but recall driving through the devastation that is an old-growth clear cut. The Pacific Northwest is riddled with them, and the fields and gullies full of severed stumps, dry earth and mangled limbs that once were thriving forests made me sick to my stomach. They looked like war zones, the no-mans’ lands I’d seen pictures of in books. I guess it would be more appropriate to call them too-many-mans’ lands; this is what happens when greed and a lack of respect for the planet band together, build muscle, and use that muscle to pick up a chainsaw:
Clear cutting removes flood buffers, anihilates forest carbon sinks, kills biodiversity and by robbing the planet of her lungs, contributes to global warming. Is it possible to change our habits of resource consumption and alter our relationship with nature to stop these kinds of practices? I certainly hope so. In the mean time, I just want them to stop the wanton development in my hometown, so all ye Nyack quick-buck builders and abusers, please stop cutting down trees. We don’t need more McMansions or a third Target. Homeowners don’t like mudslides and flooding basements, and deer really don’t enjoy being hit by cars while crossing the street to a patch of scrub. Just stop.
Insert transition, so that I may go from environmental soapbox to sorbet. One of the perks to being in my parent’s house is a fully stocked, clean kitchen, which means I get time to experiment. Summer fruit and herb bounty is always plentiful, and I love combining the two; sweet fruit and spicy, pungent herbs make for terraced tasting. The flavors build on one another, enhancing and deepening the tongue’s experience, and so today I made a homemade sorbet out of two stone fruits – fresh peaches and ground cherries – with a touch of thyme. Ground cherries can be found in forests (the non-clearcut variety) throughout the Northeast, and they come in their own little “parchment” packaging.
I'm a big fan of organic packaging. Mother Nature knows how to recycle.
I’m gonna use this peach, ground cherry and thyme sorbet tonight as part of a savory dish.
Peach, Ground Cherry and Thyme Sorbet
5 ripe peaches, pitted and sliced into wedges
1 cup ground cherries, with the husks and stems removed (you can substitute regular cherries for a vibrantly red and equally delicious sorbet)
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup sugar
3 tablespoons honey
1/4 tsp salt
2 tsp fresh thyme leaves, off the stem
In a small pan, combine the sugar, honey and water. Cook over a medium flame until the sugar dissolves, then bring to a boil for one minute – kindly refrain from stirring as it boils. Remove the pan from heat, and allow it to cool off.
Put the peaches, cherries, salt, thyme and cooled off sweet syrup into a blender, and process until smooth. If you have an ice cream maker, pour in the sorbet-to-be and freeze. If you don’t have one, fear not, for the spirit of DIY (do-it-yourself) shall lead you to an empty metal coffee canister or metal bowl. Add the mixture, cover and freeze.
It’s extra pretty if you serve it with a sprig of fresh thyme!
Blackberry and sage is another killer fruit-herb combination – I’ve made a sorbet version before, and it makes a simple pound cake quite wonderful indeed. What are some of your favorite eccentric flavor combinations?
So tonight, as an ode to my father’s Southern roots and my own adopted homeland, I’m cooking down-home style. There will be collards.
Sometimes, in life, grits (and grit) are necessary.
Has your hometown changed over the years? For better or for worse? How do you feel about development – is it a necessary or inevitable occurrence? And just where is the Lorax?
Posted in Commentary, Cooking | Tagged blackberry and sage sorbet, clearcutting, deer, going home, greed, grits, ground cherries, habitat destruction, Hudson Valley, McMansions, Nyack, overdeveloment, Pacific Northwest clear cuts, peach and thyme sorbet, Southern food, urban sprawl | 5 Comments »
In May, a very dear friend left our house in Asheville to return to her roots in upstate New York. I immediately missed her dry wit and the authentic kindness expressed by a warm heart in a strong and capable body. I also missed her cooking; Jaime and I shared a lot of the same food allergies, and so her meals were always safe for me to consume…..the girl could make a loaf of sour, sour sourdough worthy of bread-loving poetry.
Alas, she departed, and yesterday, Clover and I visited her at her family home in Delhi. The land has been in her family for over two generations, and upon waking up this morning, I suddenly understood why she left:
Cars as landscaping elements - note the plant growing out of the steering wheel
60 acres on ancestral land, with the chance to farm organically and full-on homestead is a pretty solid reason to go home. We camped in a rustic cabin on the property, up a long, sloping hill and perched on the edge of a spring-fed pond. The stars were out in sparkling force, and I’m always amazed at how much more of the universe I can see in the country; urban living shuts out all but the brightest of the cosmos, and so seeing an inky night sky punctuated by dips and dabs of light added a little magic to my bedtime. I’m happy Jaime has found her home, and moreover, I’m thrilled that she has captured an entity so lacking in most modern lives – a true and deep sense of place.
Many people have a strong relationship with the land on which they live – farmers, peasants around the world, indigenous peoples, nature lovers – do you feel this way about any particular place? Where is your tie to land or locale the strongest? To be honest, I’m still looking; I’ve felt stirrings in the redwoods of Northern California, the red, rippling rock of the Utah desert, and the old-growth mosses and sloping hills of Appalachia. I don’t know if I could choose just one place at this point in my life.
After saying goodbye to Jaime, we headed to Albany, saying goodbye to the Finger Lake region and meandering back towards the more developed part of New York. Couch-surfing proved reliable once again, and so for the next two days, we’re staying with Kris and Meg, two creative folks who aspire to one day own a community-oriented, vegan restaurant and bar together. I took a walk around the park right across the way from their apartment, found a market, and two yellow peppers and a can of chickpeas later, headed home to make dinner.
Chana Masala Stuffed Peppers with Spinach and Brown Rice
4 bell peppers, de-seeded, with the tops cut off (save the tops – they’ll make little “hats” for the peppers when cooking)
1 can chickpeas or 1 1/2 cups precooked + 1/2 cup water
1/2 onion, diced
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tbsp coconut or olive oil
juice from one lime
1/2 tsp curry powder
1/2 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp garam masala
1/2 tsp red pepper flakes
salt and pepper to taste
1 large bunch of spinach
1 cup brown rice
2 cups water
Preheat the oven to 375. Prepare the brown rice; bring to boil two cups of water, then add the rice, cover and reduce to simmer for 25-30 minutes (depending on the kind/brand of rice you use).
In a large skillet, sauté onions and garlic in coconut or olive oil until translucent, about 3-5 minutes. Add chickpeas straight from the can, including all the water. Add spices and lime juice, cover, and simmer for 10-15 minutes, stirring occasionally.
Reduce heat, add spinach and cover. Allow spinach to wilt for 2-4 minutes.
In a bowl, combine the chickpea mixture with the brown rice, and stir gently to incorporate all the ingredients. Place the bell peppers into a slightly greased baking dish, then spoon the filling to the top of each pepper. Place the saved hats onto the peppers and spray/brush/mist them with a touch more oil. Bake uncovered at 375 for 20 minutes.I served the stuffed peppers with a simple cucumber salad dressed with tahini, rice vinegar, a touch of cumin and red pepper flakes.
I’m off to a drum circle for the evening; I’m not much of a dancer, but there’s something about a drum beat and being surrounded by pulsing, moving bodies that compels me to join in. We’ve got a great circle in Asheville every Friday night, so I’m excited to see what Albany’s version has to offer!
Signing off from the Capital City,
Rachael
Posted in Commentary, Cooking | Tagged Albany, chana masala, Delhi, drum circles, homesteading, Indian stuffed peppers, organic farming, stuffed peppers, tahini, vegan | 5 Comments »
I remembered today how very much I want to live in an Earthship. If you’ve never heard of these amazing experiments in eco-happy building, check out www.earthship.com, and prepare to be awed by how beautiful packed earth, tires and old wine bottles can really be…
I’m still coming to you from Ithaca, New York, and I spent the day at the Dacha, a sustainable, DIY homestead about ten miles outside of town. Six folks have committed to each other and to their vision of an off-grid oasis, and the results are pretty inspiring. They’ve done all the construction between them, despite not having backgrounds in building , and have already completed the common house, consisting of one giant, light-filled great room, kitchen, bathrooms and a wee sun chamber to the side. The structure is based on the Earthship model; it is long and lean in dimension, so that the sun pouring in from the wall-sized windows can heat the space in winter, while the thermal mass of the floors and walls work to insulate and keep it cool. The back wall of the house is rammed up against an earthen mound, which also provides insulation – warmth in January and sweet relief in August. With the addition of a wood stove, solar panels, radiant floor heating and well-pumped water, the four women and two men who will call the Dacha home will have no need to rely on the city or electricity or water. They’re in the process of building an additional wing for bedroom space, and in the mean time, these little homes have popped up on the property, providing sleeping areas and the ability to retreat and enjoy a little privacy after a long’s days worth of natural building:
Straw-bale house - channeling The Three Little Pigs, but much more capable of withstanding a wolf's blow
Seasonal platform tent
Oh, fond memories of trailer living
Clover was especially interested in talking about the structure and systems in place at the Dacha. We’re thinking about constructing a rural sister house near Asheville, so that we can have the best of both worlds; access to the city and organizing within the community, with the ability to build more ecologically and creatively (building codes are sometimes a drag), expand our permaculture systems and grow a ton of food. This idea requires dedicated people and money, of course, and so how quickly it manifests into something tangible remains to be seen.
Some more shots of the Dacha:
I think that we’re going to head back tomorrow afternoon, so that Clover can get his power tool fix and I can get my hands dirty in this garden:
Before heading out of town this morning, we stopped by Ithaca’s farmer’s market, which is housed in a beautiful, rustic lakeside structure. I was questing for carrots, and when a farmer threw out a hey, carrot top greeting my way, I knew I had found my vendor.
Girth.
I also encountered a wall of dried garlic – and I thought vampires were popular these days- and purslane. The purslane wasn’t exactly for sale at the market, but it was growing in a field near the parking area. I can’t resist free edible greens, so into my bag (and belly) they went.
I eat weeds.
This is what free-growing purslane looks like, in case any of y’all are feeling the gatherer gene this weekend:
We’re couchsurfing this weekend with a permaculture educator named Marvin, who lives in a 100 year-old farmhouse on the outskirts of Ithaca. Last night, it was his friend’s birthday, so we shared dinner and some of her homemade wine. Made from over 13 fruits and herbs, it was delicious, and much stronger than what I’m used to. Marvin fried up sweet plantains for a birthday dessert, and I made a polenta pizza with a Mexican-esque theme. We ended up talking late into the night, about herbalism and alternative medicine, and also about the idea of living in tribes. All of us cited having our families, but expressed that we often feel more disconnected than we’d like to the majority of people we know, or want to know better. How good would it feel to share our lives – daily joys and tribulations, work, play, food and wisdom – with those we care about? For me this comes back to living with friends and loved ones in community, much like the folks at the Dacha are doing. I’m especially a big fan of the sharing food part 
Mexican Polenta Pizza
For the crust:
Polenta: you can use 1 tube of the prepared kind (TJ’s makes one), 1 1/2 cups of dry polenta or 1 1/2 cups coarse ground grits
3 cups water (if you’re using dry polenta or grits)
1 tbsp. olive oil
2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. pepper
1 tsp. cayenne
Toppings:
1 can refried beans (I used Trader Joe’s Refried Black Beans with Jalapenos)
1 cup tomato sauce
2 zucchini, cut into thin slices
1/2 cup corn, cut off the cob
1 chile pepper, seeded and diced
2 garlic cloves, minced
1/2 cup red onion, sliced thinly
1 tsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. salt
dash of cinnamon
red pepper flakes to taste
2 tbsp. fresh cilantro, chopped
1 cup shredded cheese-of-your-choice
Preheat the oven to 450, then prepare the polenta. If you’re using the pre-made kind, simply lube up a pie pan or round baking dish, and press the polenta into it until even. If you’re using dry polenta/grits, bring three cups of water and 2 teaspoons of salt to a boil. Add the polenta or grits, olive oil, pepper and cayenne. Stir well, then bring back to a gentle boil before turning the heat down to low. Cover the pot, and let simmer for 5 minutes. Remove from heat, and press into a pie pan or round baking dish.
In a skillet or frying pan, heat up a little olive oil and add the red onions and garlic. Sauté until the onions are translucent, then add the chile, zucchini, corn, salt, cumin and cinnamon. Cook over a medium flame for 5-6 minutes, then remove from heat.
Assemble the pizza: on top of the polenta crust, spread an even layer of refried beans (no need to heat – just spoon ‘em from the can). On top of the beans, add the tomato sauce, and cover the beans in another even layer. Add the sautéed veggies, then sprinkle with 1 cup (or more) of cheese. Bake at 450 for 10-12 minutes, and before serving, top with fresh cilantro and red pepper flakes, should you so desire.
One more day in Ithaca, then I’m off to Delhigh, NY to visit an old housemate. From there, we’re headed to Albany to check out the Albany Free School, a project where learning and education is very much child-directed, with elders and community members filling the role of teacher. We interviewed the folks behind the Free Skool here in Ithaca, and the idea behind the Albany Free School and the adult-education Free Skool movement as a whole is that we all have skills to share and teach; one need not be an expert to pass on knowledge. Clover and I help facilitate Free Skool Asheville, and I’ve taught classes on cooking, gardening, citizen journalism, fermentation and alternative education. It’s very empowering to share talent and knowledge with neighbors and friends, and I’ve gained a ton of skills through the process.
What would you like or be able to teach if your community had a Free Skool? What skills do you have, be they practical, creative or academic, that you could share with others?
Have a lovely weekend.
Posted in Community-Building, Cooking | Tagged Albany Free School, Dacha, DIY, Earthships, farmer's markets, Free Skool, homemade wine, intentional communities, Ithaca, Mexican pizza, natural building, organic gardening, permaculture, polenta | 1 Comment »
A show of hands – who has ever had a Moosewood cookbook?
When I became a vegetarian, one of my first moves was to mosey on down to a West Village bookstore and purchase The Moosewood Cookbook. I had been told that the Moosewood Restaurant collective in Ithaca, New York literally wrote the book on wholesome, delicious vegetarian cooking, and I knew that this was one bible (of sorts) that I had to have. A couple of days and recipes later, I was sold, and I went back for another display of Mollie Katzen-themed consumer love, and bought The Enchanted Broccoli Forest. Not only did the meals look delicious, but the mere title conjured up images of gnomes, hobbits and elves frolicking in the woods while picnicking on veggie goodness. I appreciate a good title, especially one that plays to my Middle Earth-lovin’ imagination, and so together, the two books became my references as I developed my cooking skills.
Today, I got to visit the mothership.
We actually considered asking the worker-owners of Moosewood if we could interview them for a our project. After all, they’re a long-running, uber-successful collective. Goes to show that worker-owner collectives can not only make a profit, but also polish up real nice. Nice enough to be included in Zagat’s. Take note, all you naysayers; this stuff isn’t just for hippies anymore!
In any event, considering the restaurant is often cited for changing the way America viewed vegetarianism, combined with the fact that they’ve been interviewed, profiled and waxed poetic over hundreds and hundreds of times, we abstained from sending a request. I visited nonetheless, looked and lingered. I’m not going to lie – part of me really wants to have dinner at Moosewood tonight, for the experience as much as the food. But, alas, we’re on a tight, tight budget, and I don’t remember the last time I spent more than four dollars or so on a meal out. I dumpster. I don’t dine. Move away from today’s menu and keep repeating that until the longing feeling goes away…..no roasted red pepper coconut soup….forsake thee strawberry and peach crumble…..I’ll try to be content with simple living today.
For a little Moosewood fix, I decided to make a recipe from one of their books. It’s a cookie staple for me, and I figured the folks with whom we’re staying today and tonight might enjoy the aroma of chocolate being baked.
Moosewood’s Cowboy Cookies, Veganized
1 cup Earth Balance
1/2 cup sugar or 1/4 cup honey
1/2 cup brown sugar (don’t substitute this….caramelized ooey gooeyness should be embraced)
2 egg substitute equivalents
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup white flour (you can use 2 cups of the whole wheat if you prefer)
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 cups rolled oats
1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup of raisins, cranberries, chopped dates, figs, apricots or whatever dried fruit your heart desires
1/2 cup your nut of choice
Preheat the oven to 350, and in a bowl, stir with gusto (read: cream) the Earth Balance and sugars. Add in the egg substitutes and vanilla, and mix well. In another bowl, combine the flours, salt, baking powder and baking soda. Combine the dry ingredients and the wet ones, mix well, then stir in the oats. Get your hands dirty, and add the chocolate chips, dried fruit and nuts, incorporating them into what will be a stiff dough. You don’t need to lube up your baking sheets, so go ahead and put rounded spoonfuls of dough onto them, about 4 inches apart. Bake for 12 minutes at 350.
These cookies were a staple in my classroom cooking repertoire. When I taught K-3 Special Education in Utah, I wanted to have as many tactile, hands-on lessons as possible, and following recipes with children brought together math, cooperation, life skills and nutrition all in one tasty bundle. I have fond memories of one of my students, Jonathan, cramming cookie dough into this mouth while proclaiming, chocolate-ly, that it was the best stuff he had ever eaten. Ever. He may have been six, with limited experience as to what “ever” meant, but I’ll take it.
Have you ever eaten at a famous restaurant? I used to live near Chez Panisse in North Berkeley, and though I would peer in the windows on my evening walk home (and love Alice Waters’ school gardens initiatives), I never ate there.
What are your favorite cookbooks? I seldom buy them anymore, as I tend to be a haphazard, whatever-is-around cook these days, but I’m always interested in new titles to browse…
Off to peruse the local thrift stores for a new-to-me fleece. Tomorrow – health care! The Ithaca Free Clinic! Gonna visit a group of medical professionals who takes care of those with or without insurance…seems pretty in step with the true meaning of the Hippocratic Oath.
Posted in Cooking | Tagged Alice Waters, Chez Panisse, collective, cowboy cookies, Ithaca, Mollie Katzen, Moosewood, The Enchanted Broccoli Forest, The Moosewood Cookbook, vegan, Zagat | 3 Comments »
Southern-Style Bruschetta, Sleepy Skullcap and Stopping Burger King from Killing the Rainforest
August 26, 2010 by Rachael
For the love of an orangutan, put down that BK Broiler, and think twice before stopping in for a Dunkin Donuts iced coffee fix: both companies have been tied to the destruction of Indonesia’s paradise forests, where huge swaths of pristine, old-growth rainforest are being slashed down daily to make room for palm oil plantations. In addition to destroying the habitat of the aforementioned orangutans, gibbons and tigers, the clear cutting of this forest is generating huge amounts of pollution, displacing indigenous tribes and contributing to human rights abuses; we’re talking labor trafficking, slavery and, as has been seen time and again in the Amazon, the convenient “disappearances” of local folks who try to speak out against the devastation. I do not want my cake donut to come with a side of murder, and since the post-cutting practice of burning forest remnants has resulted in orangutans burning alive, I feel justified in saying that no potato ought to be fried in a product whose sourcing contributes to flaming, tortured monkeys. At least that’s my opinion.
Courtesy of the Nutrition Research Center. Not sure why they have a pic of an orangutan on their website, though.
As consumers, we’re faced with choices everyday, and our decisions are made based on a myriad of considerations. What’s the monetary cost? How much time will I have to invest to procure a product? Who and what am I supporting through my purchase? With fast food factories like Burger King, the goods are cheap and accessible, and often available in places that are a wasteland for comparably priced, healthier foods. A host of other factors weigh in as well, but I’d like to think that as a society, we’re starting to realize just how powerful the placement of our dollar is; in an age where corporations respond to profit, removing their ability to bask in said profit is an effective means of getting one’s voice heard. Whether you choose to actively boycott a company or simply spend your money where you feel it is more ethically appropriate, consumers have the ability to affect change – ten years ago, how many of us had heard of Fair Trade or truly understood the importance of supporting local economies? These ideas have become more and more a part of the mainstream, and I think that by upping the anti and forcing businesses to be both environmentally and socially responsible, we just might move towards a more equitable culture.
Burger King says “Have it your way!” Tell ‘em you’d prefer the occasional fast food indulgence without environmental destruction:
https://secure3.convio.net/gpeace/site/Advocacy?cmd=display&page=UserAction&id=689
Burger King, I am tired. However, I am not amused. I furrow my brow at you, oh slayer of monkeys!
What are your opinions on ethical consumerism? Do you think that consumers can change the negative practices of businesses and corporations? What are some ways that you try to make your spent dollars reflect your ideals?
I recognize that I’ve now posted two eco-rants and one extremely unflattering picture in the period of a single week. Sorry, folks. I consider the planet to be home, and I’m just not down with trashing my house. On top of that, the lack of kindness (and common sense) with which we treat this place is sadly reflected in how we often treat each other. It’s hard to be compassionate in just one sector of your life; the stuff’s contagious. Here’s to a little more tenderness in the universe, though we may have to enforce it within a iron fist. Kidding. Kind of.
It’s possible that my heightened sense of righteous indignation is the direct result of a severe lack of sleep. I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m pretty hardcore insomniac. Two, three hours a night is my average, with periods of no sleep whatsoever that can last upwards of three or four days. These slightly manic periods are a carnival of fun, not only for myself, but for anyone else in a five mile radius – vastly different moods erupt from my mind in rapid-fire succession, and a good friend once remarked that seeing me in no-sleep mode was like watching a circus parade. I’ve been this way since I was about fourteen – I blame puberty - and while I used to revel in the extra reading and study hours I gained, staying far away from Dreamland is not conducive to getting older. I’ve tried a whole forest’s worth of herbs and teas, and the most surefire treatment to date is skullcap tincture. Seriously – if you have sleeping problems, get thee to the local co-op or supplement store, and get thyself a bottle of skullcap tincture. Squeeze the contents of the dropper under your tongue, and you’ll be lulled into a quiet-minded state of sleep. I was given a small supply of skullcap goodness in Ithaca by the herbalist we couch-surfed with, and sadly, I’m already out. Must get more, otherwise y’all might be inundated with more soapbox spiels later on this week
I’ve got another recipe to share, which resulted from a hankering for something from the southlands. I’m starting to get a little homesick for Asheville (and for my own room), so when I found stone-ground white grits at the store a few days back, I figured they might help hold me over until I’m back in grits-and-biscuit land. While you could quite accurately describe this meal as consisting of corn cakes, I’m going to channel the powers of cultural fusion and call it bruschetta, southern-style.
Southern Summer Bruschetta
For the base:
3 cups water
1 cup stone-ground grits
1 tsp salt
1/4 shredded cheese o’ choice
1 egg, beaten
2 tablespoons olive oil
1-2 tablespoons cornmeal + 1-2 tablespoon breadcrumbs, on a plate
For the topping:
5 small to medium tomatoes, chopped roughly, and patted down to remove extra water
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 Vidalia onion, diced
1 peach, cut into small cubes
1 small Cubanelle pepper, diced (if you like mild) or 1 jalapeno, de-seeded and diced (should you embrace a touch of heat)
1/2 cup corn, sliced right off the cob
2 tsp salt
1 tsp cayenne
A touch of cumin, and pepper to taste
For the base:
Preheat the oven to 350. Bring water to a boil, then add salt and grits. Lower the heat, and cook until thick, stirring all the while – should be about ten minutes. Remove from heat, then stir in the egg and grated cheese – stir up until all is well combined. Let cool.
Once the grits have cooled off, take a tablespoon or two into your hand, form into a ball, then flatten into a disk. Press the disk into some of the cornmeal/breadcrumb mixture, then place in a slightly greased baking dish. Repeat until all the grit mixture is used up.
For the topping:
Combine all ingredients, splash in a couple of teaspoons of olive oil, and mix well.
To assemble, simply spoon the tomato mixture onto the grit disks. Bake on 350 for 10 minutes, then transfer ‘em onto a skillet for bottom-crisping purposes; 6-8 minutes with a little olive oil over a medium flame should do the trick.
Remember the peach, ground cherry and thyme sorbet from earlier this week? I served each piece of bruschetta with a little dollop of sweet and savory coldness.
It is hard to believe that I did not discover the joy of grits until I was almost 25. Rib-hugging, super-thrifty staple, I salute you!
I’m headed to Providence, Rhode Island for more work tomorrow, then back to Massachusetts for a brief stay with Clover’s family in Cape Cod. I’m looking forward to dunes.
A lovely night to all.
Posted in Commentary, Cooking | Tagged bruschetta, Burger King, deforestation, Dunkin Donuts, Greenpeace, grits, insomnia, orangutans, palm oil, Paradise forest destruction, Sinar Mas, skullcap, Southern food | 7 Comments »