Category: cooking

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Seeking Simplicity in the Christmas Season 

The dusk is crystal and cold, the skyline rose colored. Tree branches etch their way across the sky. The white snow and black branches create a quiet starkness that has a beauty all its own.  It’s the beauty of December, of snowy wintertime, of the holidays, of the Christmas season. 

As the sun disappears below the horizon, a million tiny Christmas lights shout of joy and warmth amid the chilly darkness of the subzero world outside. They are beacons calling us inside, where a mug of hot cider and a plate of holiday sweets awaits. The warm cinnamon-laced elixir is the perfect antidote to make us toasty on the inside.

The Traditions of Christmas

From the time when I was a little girl, December has been a month meant for memory making.

Being both of Midwestern and Scandinavian heritage, our home glows with candles to counter the darkness outside. We fill the kitchen with the smells of the season, of cardamom, nutmeg, and cinnamon, of sweet breads baking in the oven, and of the rich, heady aroma of Swedish meatballs cooking on the stovetop.

The tunes coming through the speakers skip between classical Christmas and my favorite jazz bands’ renditions of similar tunes. At some point in the month, we’ll form a caroling group and travel the neighborhoods, singing Christmas carols as we go. Concerts and ballets are usually standard fare. 

Music and food seem essential to my family’s traditions, but these are inconsequential unless shared with friends and loved ones. And so we gather at our homes, in our churches, in concert halls, and at restaurants. We eat, we sing, and we worship, drawn together to celebrate the reason for the season, the birth of the Christ child. 

Encircling ourselves with family and the traditions we hold dear offers a deep sense of peace. This then becomes refreshed again each December. Possibly from the sentimentality, this year, all the hallmarks seem heightened. The lights shine brighter, the caramels taste sweeter, the Nutcracker Suite is even more beautiful and poignant than I remember.

How to Find Peace in the Chaos

An eternal struggle as we navigate the holiday season is how to maintain calmness. How to not get swept up in the busyness of shopping and preparing to host family and friends. Over the last few years, I’ve made a point of intentionally choosing the important aspects of the season and not getting caught up in the fluff. 

1. Think Ahead

To this end, I try to do my shopping for gifts all through the year. When I come across the perfect gift for someone in my life, and it’s only July, I buy it and tuck it away. This way when the Christmas season rolls around, I already have most of my gifts, and I only need to wrap them.

2. Scale Back, but Keep What’s Important

Another strategy for managing the stresses of the season is to scale back the amount of Christmas baking and preparation you do. Choose only the favorites, and abandon the rest. I still bake to give, just not as much to keep. 

As I’ve aged, I’ve reconciled myself with the folly of filling myself with holiday treats only to adopt the (mostly failed) strict New Year’s resolutions that include dieting and exercise. As a way to follow through on this simplification, I divide the need-to-have Christmas delicacies into two categories: heritage treats and purely delicious (and thus have-to-make) treats. 

My family’s heritage treats include lefse, krumkake, ginger snaps, sugar cookies, yulekake, and sometimes butter balls. The can’t-do-without-because-they’re-so-amazing cookies include (but aren’t limited to) browned butter spoon cookies, peanut butter kiss cookies, and sea salt caramels. I’m always a sucker for great fudge and homemade peanut brittle, so those are on an alternate list. 

I think back to the days when a homemade gingerbread house was an annual necessity. Those times have definitely gone by the wayside. Only the most delectable treats make the cut these days.

3. Spend Time Soaking in the Season

By taking a look at those activities that bring meaning to me, and leaving the rest behind, it’s possible to clear your holiday palate, so to speak. I have created openings in my schedule to go to a midweek Advent service, take a stroll through downtown to enjoy the Christmas lights, and sit and watch the cardinals, nuthatches, woodpeckers, and slate colored juncos fight over their spots at the bird feeders. For me, these are activities that feed my soul. 

Similarly to those who have gone before me, it is with excitement and intention that I look forward to times with family and friends, building memories to last into future generations. Memories complete with coffee and a spot of something sweet …

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Let’s Ditch the Dry Turkey

Can I admit to you, my dear friends, that I sometimes find the Thanksgiving meal boring? There it is. Out in the open. But hear me out. This is one holiday where we are all tied to the exact same meal on the fourth Thursday of November. To make matters worse, usually we use the exact same recipes as we always have and often the same as our mothers did before us.

Don’t take this the wrong way. This boredom doesn’t take anything away from the value and appreciation I place on Thanksgiving as a holiday. Or, for that matter, my love of the month of November.

The Glories of November

November really is an unsung month. It no doubt has middle child syndrome. But like a middle child, November has charming characteristics all its own. For me, it’s a relaxing month. The busy rhythm of summer has ended, and the craziness of December is yet to begin.

I spend more time sipping coffee. Long evening walks watching crisp and clear sunsets become the norm. I start making braises and soups, all the warm cozy foods. I wash windows and organize my closets, taking out all the wool, knitted pieces I’ll need in the winter months. Taking long deep breaths of relaxation, I catch my breath. By the end of the month, I am fully thankful, if for nothing less than for having had a wonderful month.

What’s to Love About Thanksgiving?

As far as the Thanksgiving holiday goes, it has much to offer. First, the purpose of giving thanks is something essential to our well-being. An attitude of thankfulness changes how we view life. In my experience, we always have something to be thankful for, no matter the situation. When we find those things and are grateful for them, it’s like the dawn of a new day.

What’s Not to Love …

All this said, I have to admit I’m not thankful for canned sweet potatoes topped with toasted marshmallows. I’m not super thankful for glazed carrots or green bean casserole, canned cranberries, shredded carrot jello, or grocery store pie. While I appreciate the tradition that goes along with the decades of serving these menu items, I can’t help but think they’re boring. And even though all the mothers that have gone before us (God rest their souls) might disagree, they’re not that tasty.

What I’m Doing About It

It is with this combination of boredom and a healthy respect for tradition in mind that I have ventured on a quest. How do I un-bore Thanksgiving dinner and add some zing to the menu items, all the while keeping it fairly low on the labor-intensive spectrum?

Dessert

Let’s start with dessert because, well, why not? The capstone is always a good place to begin. I’m considering whether to remove pie from the menu altogether … There has to be something more spectacular that can serve as a replacement. But the stakes are high. If I don’t succeed at dessert, my family may boycott the meal altogether.

To make the day flow easier, I’m going to choose a dessert I can make a day or two ahead. The first thing that pops in my mind is pumpkin cheesecake. Cheesecake needs to be made in advance, and my recipe is delicious. However, it is still mildly boring, plus I’ve made it for Thanksgiving before. Perhaps pumpkin tiramisu or a pear galette. Either would be delicious and interesting enough.

But I finally settle on a goat cheese cheesecake topped with cranberry gelee and salty/sweet pecans. Oh, and individual persimmon pudding cakes served with cinnamon whipped cream. Cranberries and persimmons are two of my favorite fall fruits. The creamy cheesecake counters the freshness of the cranberry gelee, a true show stopper. As a nod to those who must have pumpkin on Thanksgiving, I may have a few individual pumpkin custards sitting in the wings.

Turkey

Moving backwards in the meal is the piece de resistance, the turkey. I have to tell you that I could probably write a book named “55 Ways to Cook a Turkey.” I’ve tried them roasted right side up, upside down, brined, marinated, high-heat roasted, slow-roasted, stuffed, unstuffed, rubbed with herb paste under the skin, rubbed with herbs on the outside … I’m always searching for ways to make the turkey both flavorful and tasty. But the preparation must be simple. There are enough parts to this meal that I don’t want a complicated turkey recipe.

The challenge is keeping the turkey meat moist while also making it delicious and unique. After much thought and research, I am going to use a hybrid of one of Thomas Keller’s recipes, Bouchon Roast Turkey. Here he uses a mix of techniques to achieve two of my three criteria. This turkey will be both moist and delicious.

He starts by soaking the meat in a brine mixture of lemon, garlic, herbs, pepper, and kosher salt. This particular combination of ingredients will really amp up the flavor of this bird. He then uses a high heat method to cook the turkey. The theory behind doing this is that the higher temperatures of the oven seal the juices inside the bird, making it more moist.

The Accoutrements

As far as the side dishes go, they happen to be the favorite part of the meal for most of my family. The edict from my clan has always been, “Don’t mess with the side dishes!” Thus, my challenge is to change things up without changing things up too much.

Cranberries

Typically, I like the cranberries to be unadulterated, cooked with just water and sugar. This year, though, I am going to make a second cranberry sauce with added apples. I’ll substitute apple cider for some of the water and add a finely chopped apple to the cranberries before cooking them. The extra sweetness from the apple and cider is enough that I won’t need to add any sugar in the recipe—always a good thing.

Sweet Potatoes

I’ll whip the sweet potatoes into a puree, adding a bit of cream and mascarpone cheese to make them creamier and increase the richness. The marshmallows will stay in the pantry. I prefer sweet potatoes to be on the savory side of the flavor wheel.

Stuffing

Stuffing is something one never wants to skimp on, so this year I’m going to amp up the classic version using dried sourdough bread from a local bakery, sautéed Italian sausage, garden onions and celery, and an abundance of herbs harvested from my garden.

Green Bean Casserole

In homage to certain members of my family, I’ll make green bean casserole. Mine, however, will use fresh French green beans, mushrooms, shallots, and thyme sautéed in butter and sherry vinegar, then finished with heavy cream, salt, and pepper. I’ll cover it with crispy fried shallots. Now that is my kind of green bean casserole!

A Spot of Something Sweet

Lest anyone get faint from hunger during the football game, I am adding a new iteration of snickerdoodles, chai-spiced. They’re a standard snickerdoodle dough rolled in a mixture of sugar, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, and cardamon. What a delicious riff on a classic cookie.

I Can’t Forget the Dinner Rolls

Alas, I would be remiss if I failed to mention everyone’s highlight. These homemade dinner rolls entered my family’s Thanksgiving tradition more than twenty years ago. They have been deemed essential, and thus, they must be freshly made on Thanksgiving Day. God forbid day old dinner rolls …

You wonder why these humble rolls hold such a hallowed spot? Firstly because their aroma when baking is what wakes everyone up in the morning. Coffee and fresh dinner rolls enjoyed in your pajamas are a highly valued tradition in our house. In the evening, they become a necessary component of the ubiquitous turkey sandwiches. With all this early and late ingestion of dinner rolls, you are no doubt wondering if there are enough for the actual meal. Don’t tell anyone, but I tuck a certain percentage away only to bring them out for the Thanksgiving meal itself.

There you have it. My rough and tumble plan for this year’s Thanksgiving meal. Hopefully you glean a few bits of inspiration from my slightly askew interpretation of the meal. Now that this planning is out of the way, I’m going to sit down with a cup of tea and try to figure out how to make my December more like its easy-going sibling, November.

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Fall Art Release: Vegetable Watercolor Collection

The Hum of Autumn

The dawn is crisp as I step into my garden. This coolness is new and refreshing. I know the day will heat up later, but for now I contentedly pause to breathe in the chilled air. I arrived at the garden early today to assess which vegetables are ripe and ready to be turned into rich pots of sauces or pickled into crunchy delicacies.

Something about the late summer days calms me even though the days and nights are full with harvesting and canning. Maybe it’s because the heat of summer is over and all that I’ve been preparing for since early spring is now bearing fruit.

Harvesting Garden Vegetables

Evenings and weekends hum along with a similar tune. I open the kitchen windows, turn on jazz saxophone music, and start creating from the garden bounty. It’s my happy time. What have I made before that I want to repeat? What new venture will I try this year?

Carrots

Back in the garden, I start with the carrot patch. I planted three varieties this year. Nantes and Chantenay are the two orange carrots I chose. They are trusty producers, always sweet and juicy. The other variety I planted is Purple Dragon. This is such a beautiful carrot, purple on the outside and orange on the inside. It’s always a crowd pleaser sliced into a salad.

Tomatoes

Across the aisle from the carrots are the tomatoes. Let’s just say I went a little overboard when I ordered my seeds last winter. It was a frigid day in the depths of January when I perused the seed catalogs and websites. This is a dangerous combination for me, as I’m bound to start dreaming of summer and a prolific harvest.

Now, as I look over my tomato collection, I’m glad I planted so many varieties. Most are interesting and delicious. I have what I call the United Nations of tomatoes and peppers.

They hail from most corners of the globe—with many countries in Europe, eastern Europe, the Mediterranean, and the Americas represented. Some of my favorite medium and large tomato varieties include German Pink, Japanese Black Trifele, Black Sea Man, and Dester. I’m newly addicted to two cherry tomato varieties, Blondkopfchen and Sunrise BumbleBee.

Garlic

Planting my garlic has become a cherished tradition for me. I spend many evenings scrolling through the garlic producer’s websites, reading about each type, and trying to choose what varieties to plant. Of course because of where I live, I have to pick from the hardneck options, which thrive in cooler Northern climes. This year I played it safe with the reliable Music variety, and I ventured into the unknown with Georgian Crystal, Pehoski Purple, and Chrysalis Purple.

For our blog posts archives, we are showing a photo of a garlic clove on a ceramic plate

Radicchio

Every year I challenge myself by planting a new type of vegetable in my garden. One of my favorite introductions was radicchio. This is such a sturdy little plant, whose best trait is that it shines in the very late fall when the days are cool. Radicchio is an Italian chicory. It’s delicious sautéed and tossed into risotto along with Parmigiano-Reggiano and pancetta. The leaves’ complex bitterness offsets the creamy richness of this dish. In addition, radicchio has been the subject of many experiments in my cooking, its flexibility making it an asset to any garden.

Mushrooms

On summery Saturday mornings, I hustle into line at the local farmers market to stock up on mushrooms. In my town, a local grower offers several varieties of unique mushrooms, and Chanterelles have become one of my favorites. They can form the base of a rich, savory bisque. They are heavenly when sautéed in butter and white wine and then finished with truffle salt and served over warm brie. Chanterelles are a mushroom I return to time after time, and for good reason.

The Vegetables of Fall

Autumn vegetables: from artichokes on my hors d’oeuvres platter to the bundle of flint corn gracing my front door, this group of vegetables is in a league all its own. They shine in both beauty and flavor. They elevate my cooking game. I say that tomatoes are my favorites, but that’s not really true. After all, then I’m abandoning the peppers, olives, onions, and squash in my life, and I could never do that.

These vegetables are at their delicious height right now, and I can do nothing but slow down and savor their bounty. In the spirit of these bountiful garden harvests this fall, I’m sharing my gourmet and autumn vegetable greeting card designs with you. I hope you find these pieces of art will bring joy to each person you send them to. Visit my shop to view the designs available in this new card collection.

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How to Grow Garlic: A 7-Step Guide

SUMMARY: The process of how to grow garlic is simple once you know the key points. First, decide what varieties to plant, and prepare the soil. Plant and cover the garlic in autumn. Uncover it in spring, watch it grow, and pick the scapes and harvest the heads during the summer.

Are you interested in growing garlic in your yard, but you’re not sure how to get started? Garlic is a low-maintenance and high-reward plant to grow as long as you understand a few key principles. 

I’ll walk through the seven steps for how to grow garlic so you can order them and get them in the ground by this fall. 

1. Decide What Varieties to Plant and Order Them

The first step in how to grow garlic is deciding what type of garlic to grow. At the grocery store, you generally only see one or two varieties, but when you’re growing your own, you have a myriad of beautiful options. 

You’ll plant your garlic in the fall, so it’s best to order it early, in late spring, for the best selection. Recently I’ve been getting my garlic from Keene Garlic, but another great option is Seed Savers. You can find garlic heads for planting through local farmers or garden shops. Grocery store garlic is typically a softneck garlic, which isn’t hardy in northern parts of the U.S., so it’s best to order garlic intended for planting. 

Hardneck Garlic

The first type of garlic is hardneck, which means that the stem is stiff and woody, and it can’t be braided like softneck varieties. If you live in a climate with cold winters, such as the northern parts of the U.S., plant hardneck garlic because it’s hardier and will withstand the winters better. 

Hardneck garlic varieties produce scapes, which are the flowering stem of the plant. You can cut off these scapes and cook with them, or you can plant them. Hardneck garlic generally has fewer larger cloves compared to softneck. 

Best Hardneck Varieties

Here are a few of my favorite hardneck varieties to grow in my upper Midwestern garden: 

  • Music
  • Chesnok Red
  • German Extra Hardy
  • Purple Glazer
  • Rose de Lautrec
  • Russian Red 
  • Spanish Roja

Softneck Garlic

The other type of garlic you can plant is softneck, which means the stem of the garlic is more flexible. These varieties are generally more susceptible to the cold, so they do great in warmer climates with less severe winters, such as the lower parts of the U.S. 

Softneck garlic does not produce scapes, and the cloves tend to be smaller and more numerous than hardneck garlic cloves. 

Best Softneck Varieties

A few great options for planting softneck garlic include: 

  • Inchelium Red
  • French Red
  • Blanco Piacenza 

2. Prepare the Soil

Once you’ve ordered your garlic, you’ll need to plan where you’ll plant it. Garlic is a heavy feeder, so it prefers rich, loose soil, not clay. They do best in full sun. You can replant it in the same place every year if you have good soil, but it’s ideal to rotate its location around your garden.

If you do not have good soil where you live, add compost to enrich the dirt. You can also separate the cloves from each other and soak them in a fertilizer soak before planting, which you’ll be able to find anywhere you buy garlic bulbs. 

3. Plant and Cover the Garlic in Mid-Fall

Plant your garlic in mid-fall. In the upper midwest, I plant my garlic when the maple leaves are golden, which is late September or early October. 

Dig holes 6 to 9 inches apart, 3 inches deep, and place an individual clove in each hole. Place the root side down, and the tip upwards. Then cover with dirt. When you are done planting, cover the patch with 3 to 6 inches of an organic mulch, such as straw or leaves.

After the cloves are buried and covered in the fall, you can forget about them until spring.

4. Uncover the Garlic in Spring

In the spring, you can take off some or all of the mulch after the threat of freezing temperatures has passed. If you leave some of the mulch, it acts as a weed barrier. The garlic will be able to grow through it. 

It’s important to keep the space very weeded, as weeds will compete with the garlic, producing smaller garlic heads. Once the garlic is uncovered, as it grows you can water it as needed. Otherwise, sit back and watch it grow.

5. Harvest Garlic Scapes in June

In mid June, if you planted a hardneck variety, you will notice curly stems called scapes poking out from the garlic leaves. These stems curl as they reach upward and outward. In mid June, if you planted a hardneck variety, you will notice curly stems called scapes poking out from the garlic leaves. These stems curl as they reach upward and outward. If you let these go without picking, they will produce a beautiful white garlic flower. These are the seed heads, and they are delicious.

When these scapes get nice and long, you can cut them off and bring them inside to use in your cooking. I add them to everything I would normally use garlic in and more. Because they are a bit like a garlicky green onion, they go into salads, soups, and pastes. Anything savory, really. 

Once all the scapes are trimmed off the plants, I continue to let the garlic plants grow. 

6. Dig Up Garlic in July

Once the tops of the garlic leaves are starting to dry and turn brown, I start keeping track of them again. When you have about 5 green leaves remaining on each plant, or about 50% of the leaves are still green, you can harvest the garlic bulbs. 

First dig up one plant to see if it is ready. You should see big heads with the outside skin sort of papery. Once I deem them ready, I dig them out of the ground carefully with a long spade, being careful not to slice open the heads. 

7. Dry and Prepare the Garlic Heads

After pulling out my garlic, use a stiff brush to remove the excess dirt. Do not use water. Once they’re brushed off, lay them out in a well-circulated place, not touching each other, for about three weeks. This will allow them to cure. I generally leave them on a tarp in my garage, but you can also put them in the sun or under a tree, or you can tie and hang them in a well-ventilated space.

Once the garlic has cured for about three weeks, then it’s time to finish cleaning it up. Trim the tops and roots so they’re neat, and then tie them by wrapping them with string. By combining the garlic into a nice arrangement, they are beautiful on the wall, and they’re extra convenient when you want to clip a head off to use in your cooking. 

Once the garlic is arranged and ready for storage, place it in a well-ventilated, room-temperature space. I generally like to hang it in my kitchen, and that way, it’s ready for use.

Why Grow Garlic? 

I grew up with minimal garlic in my life, and what did exist came in the form of garlic powder. Later this changed to the minced garlic in a jar, and I thought I was getting pretty fancy at this point. The idea of fresh cloves of garlic came next, but I always bought these from a grocery store. 

It was probably twenty five years ago when I was wandering through a farmers market in late July and came across a stand that had garlic for sale. They had baskets filled with pink garlic, garlic with purple stripes, and white garlic. Some bulbs were large, others smaller. 

The realization that so many varieties existed was quite the discovery for me. Of course I fell in love with the taste and texture of homegrown garlic heads. Newly harvested garlic is very juicy. The individual cloves are firmer and fresher than what you buy at the grocery store. 

A number of years ago, I started my own garlic patch, and I have never looked back. Garlic has become one of my favorite things to grow. It’s such an easy, carefree plant, and I can cook with the garlic year round. My garlic lasts all the way through winter, spring, and summer until I get my new batch in the late summer. 

What to Cook with Garlic

The best part of learning how to grow garlic is getting to cook delicious meals from the scapes and fresh, juicy heads. If I tried to list all the ways I use my garlic, I could go on forever. But a few of my favorite uses for homegrown garlic include: 

  • Garlic scape pesto
  • Garlic scape and sauteed mushroom pasta
  • Grilled pizza topped with fresh garlic scapes
  • Bruschetta with garlic scapes or garlic
  • Garlic bisque
  • Garlic and shrimp pasta

Learn More about Creating Your Garden 

Growing garlic is one of the many joys of starting a garden at home. By growing a garden, you can create a wonderful haven and rich food for yourself and your family. 

The Ripe and Roasted online vegetable garden course with Cami walks you through the steps of how to design and build your garden from scratch. You’ll learn how to choose, arrange, plant, and care for your vegetables and pollinator flowers. 

Visit the garden course page to learn more and sign up. Gardening makes it possible to reconnect with nature while growing fresh, organic food in your own backyard. 

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Cooking with a Hint of Sweetness: Gourmet Fruit Art Collection

Figs, apricots, quince, persimmons, and grapes; these gourmet fruit varieties stem from such unique lineages but possess similar captivating applications in the kitchen.

These are a collection of gourmet fruit ingredients I use time and again in entertaining because they transform the level of a dish. Their panache is unparalleled. I use them in appetizers as a sweet counter to savory meats and cheeses. They’re delightful as a part of the main course in braises, tagines, or roasts.

Then finally, they act as a sweet capstone in tarts, galettes, cakes, or toppings. These fruits have the power to change whatever you are serving from ordinary to special. They lend an earthy classiness to your meal.

Apricot

When I was a little girl, my mom would regularly make apricot jam. I grew to adore this jam on a piece of freshly toasted English muffin. I still taste the apricot flavor in my memories. Now, as an adult, I return to apricots as often as I can. They often find their way into braises, such as a chicken, white wine, and wild mushroom braise atop potatoes or rice. Apricots perfectly balance the savory hues and help create well-developed sauce. 

Quince

Likewise, quinces have played a role in my culinary journey. I was first introduced to this fruit when I lived in the French province of Alsace. The mild climate of eastern France is perfect for quince trees to thrive. Harvested in the late fall, they turn into pastes and butters, and they’re baked into cakes, tarts, and galettes. Quince also adds a refreshing sweetness when sliced and roasted with lamb in a tagine. 

As an added bonus, if you happen to live where quince trees grow, you get the privilege of enjoying their spring blossoms, which are the most electric color of pink coral possible. I swoon at the far-fetched idea of having a quince tree in my yard.

Fig

Figs seem like an almost mystical fruit to me. I’m always experimenting with interesting ways to use them. My most recent find was a recipe in Dorie Greenspan’s Around My French Table cookbook: 

I take fresh, homemade pasta (trust me, it’s worth it to make the pasta for this recipe from scratch), and toss it with browned butter, figs, and pistachios, among other things. What stands out to me in this recipe is the crunchy je ne sais quoi nature of those tiny fig seeds. It’s worth buying the cookbook just for this recipe! 

As with quinces and apricots, making a fig paste, or a very concentrated jam, to serve with cheeses and meats proves a sweet counter to the more savory hors d’oeuvres items. These intensely flavored fig pastes are also amazing with a slice of buttery pound cake, in the filling of a crepe along with some Brie, or melted into a marinade for grilled meat; the list could go on and on. Pretty soon I’ll be putting it on my toast. Wait a minute, that’s actually a great idea…

Persimmon

Persimmons meet and exceed the same thresholds as the other fruits in this collection. They can have both sweet and savory applications. When included in your menu, they elevate the playing field. The color and shape of persimmons are almost cartoonist. They make me smile. As with many fruits, the wild ones have the most interesting flavor. When cooked into pudding and butters, persimmons’ bright flavor adds a complicated sweetness that’s hard to pin down but delightful to the palate.

Red Grape

I have left my oldest friend for last, the red grape. For most of us, grapes have woven their way in and out of our menus our whole lives. They’re an easy and nutritious fruit that your mom packed in your lunchbox during elementary school. For me grapes showed up in their wild form first. Wild grapes grow all over Minnesota. They spread by the birds, so they can be found along many public fencelines or climbing up poles or trees. These aren’t the sweet grapes from the grocery store. Rather they are tiny explosions of richness in your mouth. They really shine when made into jam, juices, or pastes, which I grew up eating. The best grocery store jam pales in comparison. 

Moving into adulthood, the first savory use for grapes was a chicken salad recipe from Lukins and Rosso’s original Silver Palate cookbook. Here red grapes serve as a delightful surprise up against the slivers of chicken, celery, and onion. A chicken, grape, and white wine braise over curried rice was my next iteration.

The grape I chose to paint for this newest collection caught my fancy because of its charming story. A vine was discovered winding its way up and around an old oak tree on Longanesi’s property in the Emilia Romagna region of Italy. They took cuttings and planted them in their vineyard. The grapes grew and thrived, and today roughly 500 acres of this grape variety is grown. Many Uva Longanesi varietal wines are now made from this grape.   

The Gourmet Fruit Art Collection

I painted the gourmet fruit varieties in this culinary art series because each lies close to my heart with its connection to great cooking. They are delicious in countless meals, and with them you can create complexly flavored food year round.

This art collection honors just a few of the sweet and beautiful ingredients in our repertoire. It’s my wish that you enjoy these fruits on greeting cards and fine art prints as much as you would enjoy them in your cooking. 

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Persimmon – The Unsung Holiday Fruit

Holiday Memories

As I dipped my spoon into the steamy rust-colored persimmon pudding, the rich, spicy aroma wafted from the dish. A little of the accompanying cream ran into my spoon and mixed with the pudding. The flavor of this unique fruit and dessert signify the holidays for me. 

For many years my sister-in-law, an Indiana native, has given me the gift of a tub of Indiana wild persimmon paste. It usually arrives in the fall, typically just before Thanksgiving. My favorite thing to do with this paste is to turn it into persimmon pudding. I have tended to make this delicious pudding as one of the desserts for Thanksgiving dinner. When served warm with a bit of fresh cream overtop, it is divine. 

What is a Persimmon?

American persimmons are native to southern Indiana and ripen in September and October, making them the perfect holiday fruit. When ripe, their flavor is nicely sweet in a complex sort of way.

Unfortunately for me, I don’t live in a part of the country where persimmons grow, so I pick them up in the grocery stores, which are currently carrying both the Fuyu and Hachiya varieties.

This year I’ve decided to branch out and mess around with using persimmons in other ways. The Fuyu variety I purchased this year is still firm when they are ripe, so I figured they would hold up well when roasted or broiled. The oven heat will serve to concentrate the flavors and amp up their already sweet nature. 

Roasted Persimmon Salad

I start by slicing one of the persimmons into thin wedges. Then I brush the wedges with olive oil and roast them in a high heat oven (425 degrees F) until they turn brown on the edges. 

While these are roasting, I whisk together a citrus/olive oil vinaigrette, slice some roasted beets and a clementine. Once the persimmons are ready, I arrange all the components on plates. I add Lacinato kale and microgreens and then drizzle vinaigrette over the top. Crushed black pepper and chunky sea salt round out the dish. This gorgeous deconstructed salad will serve as the first course at one of my holiday dinners. 

Broiled Persimmons

Let’s now move on to my next idea, broiling them much like I would fresh plums. For this I take slices of a crusty baguette and top each slice with a piece of soft triple cream cheese. I then place a thin sliver of fresh persimmon on top. I again brush the persimmon with olive oil. 

To add a little sweet crunch, I sprinkle on a bit of raw sugar. I place them under the broiler, and a few minutes later out come the prettiest crostini I have seen in a long time. The sweet roasted fruit proved to be a great counter to the pungent cheese. A new go-to hors d’oeuvres is born.

Spilling Persimmons Over Goat Cheese

The inspiration keeps flowing with my next plan for my persimmons. I love warm spilling fruits. For this I usually take fruits like plums, pears, peaches, or berries and combine them with sugar, lemon juice, and vanilla. After gently simmering them for a few minutes on the stove, the fruit breaks down and forms the most delectable sauce. 

I can use these spilling sauces over a myriad of dishes including pound cakes or olive oil cakes, cheesecake or panna cotta, goat or brie cheese, or prosciutto on a savory tart. I can also use it as a marinade and dipping sauce for roasted pork or chicken. 

It turns out that persimmons lend themselves perfectly to this application. When simmered with a little sugar, lemon juice, and a pinch of salt and then pureed with the stick blender, the persimmons make the prettiest and most delicious sauce. I spoon some over a log of goat cheese and serve it with baguette slices. What a perfect start to my holiday culinary journey.

So the Creating Continues 

Persimmons, a seemingly forgotten fruit, prove to be versatile, delicious, and beautiful. They have definitely earned a place in my holiday repertoire alongside the other winter fruits such as pomegranates, oranges, pears, and grapefruit. They have even made an appearance in my newly released holiday card collection. I’m sure I’ll be dreaming up other dishes with this fruit soon. Dehydrated persimmon chips, persimmon salsa chutney, fruit leathers, persimmon jam, persimmon sorbet, persimmon cocktails… Persimmon prosciutto pizza, anyone?

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Art from the Garden

My Love for Art

In my kitchen hangs a painting of a sprouting potato. An unassuming thing, but it brings me joy. Its creator was Betty Strand, an artist and family friend. I’ve always been enthralled by art. Drawings, watercolors, sketches, weavings, batiks, pottery; the list could go on. My walls certainly reflect this passion, and art takes up residence in every possible area of my home.

As you all know, my fascination with cooking and gardening is all-consuming, and a day doesn’t go by that I’m not dreaming about freshly sliced heirloom tomatoes or something of the sort. So why not tie my love for art with my love for all things food and garden? Thus an idea bloomed. 

My original sketches when forming the idea to create garden art. You can see I carried some of my original designs into my later finished pieces.

As I thought about what I could offer you, my mind went to the passion I have for drawing and painting. If only I could give you a taste of the garden within the home, a reminder of the daffodils and crisp sweet peas of spring when you are surrounded by a January blizzard. The garden and kitchen bring me such contentment, and I hope they will bring you the same. Whether you hang my creations on your walls or send them as a greeting card to a friend, I hope they will brighten each blustery day.

Why I Love Paper

Over the years, as I have wandered through little boutique shops on lazy Saturday afternoons, what always catches my eye is their fine art paper and supplies. I don’t quite know why this is, but I have always had an odd obsession with beautiful, high-quality pens, pencils, and brushes of every ilk.

Don’t even get me started on art paper. Sheets of all sizes and colors stacked in cubbies that line an entire wall. Paper hung in large sheets on racks. The thicker the better, I say, and ideally it has some great texture, as well. Paper is such a simple thing, but I love high quality, thick paper, paper with frayed edges, and envelopes in unique shapes that tie shut with little leather strings.

I no doubt leave the boutique a poorer but happier woman, loaded down with a stack of thick cotton vellums, rolls of paper, several pens, and brushes of various sizes and thicknesses. 

The finished card sets. How do I show paper in a still image? Just rest assured, the paper I found passes the Cami test. Thick, linen-textured, faint ivory color, divine.

The Creative Process

Drawing and painting is an activity I have come back to time and again over the years. It’s in my bones, a part of who I am. I started off this project by sketching. Then I painted. They were small at first, and then they evolved to larger, more refined paintings that can stand the test of time. 

Left: my original artwork as well as some of the original, smaller designs. Top right: close-up of a few of my original ideas. Bottom right: the finished card sets.

There have been many iterations along the way, and I am sure there will be more. It is my pleasure to introduce you to my initial three collections, selections of favorite fruits, vegetables, and garden flowers. I am excited to continue creating more designs as well.

As we tread in the new water of this artistic endeavor, I hope you appreciate my lovingly painted watercolor art. I also wish for you to find meaning in the prose that I crafted to inspire and teach about each plant. I hope these designs printed on thick, beautiful, linen cardstock will make charming, classic greeting cards. Finally, when these pieces of art adorn your walls in frames, I hope they provide an elegant reminder of our collective love for plants.

I am excited to launch this new venture, and I look forward to hearing your suggestions for future designs.

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The Autumn Garden’s End

One Dreary Autumn Day

It had rained overnight, so as I stepped out the door, a fresh layer of fallen ochre-colored sugar maple leaves greeted me. Like gemstones, when strewn on the wet gray cement, the autumn leaves were almost luminous.

Oak and maple leaves in the fall with the play between the yellow, orange, rust, and wine colors, continue to inspire me. As the world around them is shutting down for winter and is becoming brown and gray, they shine in their brilliant splendor for all the world to see. 

Autumn bounty from the garden

Autumn Animal Visitors

I watch as a squirrel carries a large walnut in his mouth over to a spot in the lawn where he starts to dig. Nope, not quite the right spot. He moves a few feet over, then moves again. Finally he finds what he deems the perfect location to bury his precious nut. He starts to feverishly dig, into the hole drops the nut, and it’s quickly buried.

A mama cardinal lands on the fence and sits, looking over the situation before flying into the feeder to get an afternoon snack. It seems that all the birds are back in our yard. They’ve been out in the bushes, trees, and prairies all summer, but now they’re back at our feeders. It’s good to see them, the little nuthatches, the red-breasted woodpeckers, the slate-colored juncos, the chickadees, and of course the cardinals. 

Kale and green tomatoes from the garden.

Clearing the Garden

I turned away from my little friends. There was a laundry list of things to get done, and I had to get busy. I needed to harvest the last of my vegetable garden before the temperature drops. Working outside in the cold, I picked the season’s final tomatoes. It has been a great year for tomato production, but the vines started to turn brown. I pulled them out of the ground and stacked the cages. 

Next, it was on to digging up the carrots and beets. Then the leeks and onions, Then the peppers, eggplants, and cucumbers. My baskets filled up, and yet there was more to do. I dried the beans to shuck at a later time, so I laid those out on a tarp in the garage. I clip the herbs and store them in freezer bags for me to use this winter. 

Autumn bounty from harvest time.

Planting for Next Year

The final task of the day was planting my garlic in my newly empty garden bed. I chose some interesting varieties of garlic this year, and I’m excited to get them planted. There are a couple of purple varieties, one that grills up nicely, and a couple that will be sweet when eaten raw. I picked all of them for their lasting quality, as I hang them in my kitchen to use throughout the winter. First I dug holes in my rich dirt, buried the cloves, labeled the spaces, and covered the bed with piles of the dried oak and maple leaves. At last my work was done. 

Top left: onions from the garden, bottom left: more garden bounty, right: kale leaves from the garden.

Transition to Winter

It’s almost as if I just finished up reading a riveting novel. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed the journey and now am in the final chapters. I don’t want the book to end. But end it does. Such has been this summer, the greenery, the garden bounty, the profuse flowers, the long, idyllic evenings. The chapters in this summertime novel are long and have captured my heart. Closing the cover to this book is bittersweet. 

With late autumn we move our lives indoors. We take the piles of vegetables on our counters and create rich stews and braises. We don sweaters and light candles. Soon the lovely scent of fireplaces burning will permeate our neighborhoods. The next novel, a wintertime one, is at my doorstep, and I’m ready to begin reading.

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An Ode to My Mother

Chokecherry Picking

We stained our fingers deep red, and our buckets mounded high with the chokecherries we’d been gathering all morning. My mother, my children, and I had driven down to a large thicket on a side road along the mountain river. It was a forgotten spot, a little traveled place where few went. Here the chokecherry bushes billowed over the ditch on the edge of the gravel. We felt like we held a precious secret in knowing where this stash of bitter berries grew. The berries grew abundantly, and we picked with abandon.

Now as we looked at our haul, we knew the work was far from over. We needed to turn these currently inedible berries into the sweet and delicious canned goods we treasured all winter long. My mother, a native of Montana, had grown up around these wild gems and knew the secrets to pulling out their flavor. We followed her lead as she patiently instructed us on how to clean and cook them and then extract the meat from the inner seed, resulting in a thick liquid. This deep, garnet-colored juice became the foundation for our jams and syrups. 

The tradition continues: this year's strawberry jam

Wild Grapes

Not long after this, my mom and I went through a similar process again, this time in Minnesota. It was early September, the time of year when the wild grapes ripen. We picked on the fence lines that bordered the freeways in spots where birds had planted the grape seeds years before. Once again buckets filled the kitchen table, and as we looked upon the bounty we had just gathered, we knew we had hours of work ahead of us. Undaunted, my mom pulled out the big pots from the cupboards, filled the sink with cool water, and we began the tasks of sorting and cleaning the grapes and then creating the delectable wild grape jam we treasured so much. 

Untamed grapes found in our neighborhood

I am grateful that my mom taught me how to go out into the woods and pick wild berries, be it wild blueberries, wild plums, wild grapes, or chokecherries. The concentrated nature of wild fruit results in an unusually flavorful jam. I grew up eating these delicacies, so they became a part of my cherished memory. 

Mom in 2017

Growing Up

My mother was the daughter of Norwegian immigrants who had homesteaded land in eastern Montana. Life on the prairie had not been easy for my grandparents as they worked tirelessly to tame the land and carve out a ranch. Cold, heat, grasshoppers, an overall lack of resources, the Great Depression, and more all worked against their success. I’m not sure that my mom or her siblings ever noticed, however. The spirit in the home was one of resolve, humble tenacity, and a calm graciousness. They crafted niceties from scraps, making intricately embroidered linens, dinners for neighbors, and warm loaves of bread baked in a coal-fired oven. 

Mom's wild rice soup

You see, it was a part of my mom’s inner soul to create sweet delicacies from sour grapes. It was who her parents had been and their parents before them. Eeking out beauty from scarcity. Hospitality bubbled up from a natural interest in others and their wellbeing. This graciousness was ingrained in her fiber as she welcomed family, friends, and strangers alike into the home. They often stayed for just a cup of coffee and a piece of something sweet, but sometimes they stayed for years.

Lemon bars

A Seat at the Table

From an early age, my mom modeled many things for me. She was an effortless hostess. That generation didn’t fuss for guests. You see, a tin of homemade goodies always sat in the freezer waiting to be enjoyed. Sometimes it was a lemon bar or a piece of apple crisp. Other times she treated us to was a plate full of hamburger mushroom casserole or a bowl of Minnesota wild rice soup. Sometimes all we needed was her listening ear. Other times it was a warm bed and a shower. She spent her days thinking about others. When people came to visit, my mom feted them and welcomed them wholeheartedly.

Mom's beef and mushroom casserole

The two constants were the tables. One was in the kitchen, the other in the dining room. The first greeted you on frosty mornings with a hot mug of coffee, a bowl of oatmeal topped with bananas, or crispy toast smeared with the jam du jour. The other table became the site of prolonged story telling by hosts and guests alike as dinners and the accompanying conversations ran late into the evenings. The food always remained simple, hearty, and home cooked. Soups, stews, casseroles; food to feed a crowd of hungry stomachs. We came, hungry for conversation and nourishment, and we left sated on all fronts. 

Making krumkake at Mom and Dad's house

The Gifts My Mother Gave Me

Even as the years passed and age began to get the better of her, hosting her dear family remained my mother’s favorite pastime. I like to think I inherited that from her. Whether we arrived early or came in after dark, the windows of the house would be glowing with a warm yellow light, the porchlight welcoming weary travelers.  My mother greeted the family with open arms, cozy beds, and fresh towels laid out for us.

Fresh peach pie

What remains today are the memories, the inner pull to emulate the gracious ambiance for others that she so faithfully created for me. An ambiance that pulled people toward her, that made them feel in that moment that they were the only ones that mattered. She wasn’t one to jump to a decision, but she carefully weighed the options. Mom gave me her measured thoughtfulness. She gave me the gift of time, her time. Such a precious and rare gift this is. It’s simple yet seemingly increasingly unavailable. She gave with no expectation of reciprocation.

A listening ear, a cup of coffee, a piece of pie, a jar of chokecherry jam, a couch on which to sit and chat awhile, a quiet wisdom; these are what I’m bringing with me into the future. These are the gifts my mother gave me.  

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Roasting as a Pastime

Roasted Italian Memories

The evening was stormy. Cracks of thunder played overhead. As we hurried up the old cobbled street, our feet danced around the growing puddles and streams. We were staying in an ancient hamlet buried in the hilly Umbrian countryside. Upon stepping into the trattoria, we took in the aromas of roasting meats, pizzas, breads, and vegetables.

A gorgeous and massive medieval pizza oven took up one entire wall of the kitchen. Stacks of olivewood sat neatly stacked to one side. This was my first exposure to the unabashed, divine nature of roasting. The cozy warmth on a cold and rainy night. The taste of a perfectly charred beet, halved garlic heads drizzled with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, wild mushrooms and fennel bulbs. They pulled me in. I was hooked and haven’t looked back. I relegated the taste of bland canned beets and garlic powder from my childhood to the cobweb-filled attic of my memory bank. Going forward, it was roasting or nothing. This was a sort of genesis, a new horizon. I moved from steamed carrots to roasted carrots, from boiled baby potatoes to toasted wedges.

Roasting Beets

Let’s take beets. It seems simple enough. I slice the freshly scrubbed beets into wedges, toss them in olive oil, sea salt, and coarsely ground black pepper. Next I spread them in a single layer on a parchment-lined cookie sheet, placing them in a hot oven to roast (400 F). After cooling the beets, I drizzle red wine vinegar and a good quality olive oil and then add sliced green onions and toasted pumpkin seeds. I lightly toss the mixture and lay the salad over a bed of arugula.

As we tuck our forks into this ruby salad, a refreshing sweetness greets us. Roasting the beets has concentrated their sugars and given the tips of the wedges a slight crunch. The overall result is delicious.

Roasting vegetables produces a depth of flavor one doesn’t get with the other types of cooking. An almost caramel tone develops in them.

Roasting Cauliflower

Let’s look at cauliflower. Take a whole cauliflower, steam it for a few minutes in a pot of boiling salted water, after taking it out, rub it all over with olive oil, salt and pepper, and place it in a very hot oven (475 degrees) for 20 minutes or until toasty on the top surface. This version of roasted cauliflower is absolutely scrumptious served with a cool yogurt cilantro sauce.

Roasting Eggplant

Another vegetable that benefits immensely from roasting is eggplant. Roasting transforms the interior of eggplant into an almost buttery consistency. I recently made an iteration of an Israeli staple where I roasted the scored and oiled halves of an eggplant until they became nicely browned. Then I topped each half with a citrus, pomegranate molasses, and tahini mixture and broiled those halves for a couple minutes until they turned caramel in color. I covered these halves with dollops of a yogurt cucumber mixture, sprinkled toasted pistachios, slivered mint, and Italian parsley.

Adding Complexity with Sauces

The dry heat of an oven amps up the flavor of what can normally be a rather plain tasting vegetable. Roasting adds the char on the edges and a caramel-like sweetness. With a bit of creativity accented by fresh herbs and cool flavor filled sauces, roasted vegetables move from the ordinary to the deliciously sublime.

Using whole-milk yogurt as a base and adding refreshing ingredients such as lime, lemon, cilantro, Italian parsley, basil, dill, cucumber, scallions, and spring greens like arugula, sauces and dips can compliment the depth of flavor in roasted vegetables. It’s the savory counter to ice cream on a slice of pie. You can definitely do without it, but oh, its addition is so wonderful!

Vegetables Galore

We are about to enter into the season of ubiquitous vegetables. Tomatoes, potatoes, cauliflower, broccoli, kale, beets, carrots, onions, cabbages, and squash of all varieties will soon be at our fingertips. Try roasting these.

When garden produce is starting to pile up on my counter, I pull out a sheet pan, lay down parchment, spread out any variety of vegetables, drizzle them with olive oil and balsamic vinegar, and add whole garlic cloves, sea salt, and freshly ground pepper. Then I place the pan in a very hot oven (400 F). Simple prep, yet it yields a divinely complex result.

However you end up using the vegetables in the end, roasting first will give a new dimension of flavor to the dish. Be it a salad, a soup, a side, an hors d’oeuvres, or a braise, roast and then combine. You won’t have any regrets.

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A Lemony Life

Dreaming of Lemons

I have always wanted a row of lemon trees in my yard. You know the look; fruit trees planted in massive pots along a pathway, or better yet along the edge of a garden that is overflowing with lavender, basil, and San Marzano tomatoes. As I walk down the aisles of this imaginary garden, my feet crush the tiny purple blossoms of creeping thyme, releasing its intoxicating scent into the air. 

I even have gone so far in this wishful wonderland of having purchased a massive (and I mean massive) tiled terra cotta planter that would house my first lemon tree. Of course living up in the hinterland, the bliss of smelling blossoms on my way to pick basil has obviously not materialized. My funky and sizable pot has instead held red twig dogwood and curly willow branches. I guess in the north country, this is the best I can hope for with a lemon tree pot, and I must rely on the local grocer to obtain my harvest.

Fruit of Spring

The fresh cheerfulness of lemons signal for me the onset of spring. The dance between spring and lemons is as natural as that of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers. They were meant to dance with each other. Spring days are crisp, and a slight breeze rustles through the branches. The cool refreshing taste of lemons mirrors the weather outside, delightfully zippy. Whether creating a sweet or tart dish, this fruit can nourish and bring joy. I have in my hands something that will be used to create delicious beauty.  

Whatever the reason, it’s at this time of year that I want to move away from rich, dark, heavy braises and into using early spring greens, vegetables such as spring sweet peas, and newly harvested baby bok choy. These create a bed for grilled lean meats. I top everything with a lemony crumble, and I marinate or drizzle with abandon a dressing that includes lemon juice as a key ingredient.

Left: Chicken with lemon, mushrooms, dried plums, and green olives. Right: Grilled salmon with lemon juice, olive oil, Italian parsley, salt, and pepper

Lemon Feasts

Forget the tradition of ham for Easter dinner. At our house, our custom is lemon for Easter. This year it appeared in many forms. Appetizers included garlicky crostini topped with a lemony Tzatziki sauce. We tossed shreds of Napa cabbage with a ginger lemon Szechuan pepper dressing to serve as a base for marinated and grilled flank steak. Then just so dessert wouldn’t feel excluded, we served little ramekins of lemon pudding cake topped with macerated strawberries and dollops of whipped cream. Did all of this meet my need for all things lemon? 

Left: Lemon pudding cake, Right: Lemon cake with a lemon glaze

Nope. Just as spring marches on, so does my need for more lemony quests. French lemon custard, caramelized onion, Ricotta, and lemon galette, risotto al limone, and Greek egg lemon soup are among my favorites. I love lemony chicken with green olives over cheesy polenta or grilled lemon slices scattered on charred slabs of salmon. For dessert, lemon gelato or curd, lemon blueberry muffins, and lemon olive oil almond cake come to mind. From hors d’oeuvres to desserts with beverages in between, I fill my menus as well as my life with this fruit.

Left: Caramelized onion, Ricotta, and lemon galette, Right: Grilling the salmon with lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper

A Savory Twist

Let’s talk a little about the use of lemon in savory dishes such as in risotto al limone or Greece’s egg lemon soup. It seems counterintuitive to add such a bright flavoring to an otherwise rich, toothsome dish. Take risotto, for example. A typical risotto is creamy with the predominant flavor being that of salty Parmigiano Reggiano cheese. When you add lemon, it’s almost like the dish changes lanes on a freeway. The lemon zest and juice transform it into something very refreshing. 

Above: Risotto al limone

A similar thing happens with egg lemon soup, otherwise known as Avgolemono in Greece. This would have a fairly typical “cream of chicken soup” flavor if not for the addition of lemon to the pot. As with the risotto, the addition of lemon elevates this soup from commonplace to splendid. Such is the beauty of the lemon.

Above: French lemon cream custards with candied lemon zest

A New Lemon Drink

The most recent lemony addition to my beverage repertoire is switchel.  My current favorite variety is lemon ginger. Switchels are a beverage with a rich history. They are a beverage based on vinegar, most commonly apple cider vinegar. Switchel was to our early colonists what soda pop is to us today. Basically, it was ubiquitous. It was (and still is) seen as both refreshing and healthy.

Apple cider vinegar was available in the northeastern states and thus became the tang in the recipe, which consisted of water, cider, a sweetener like molasses, honey, or maple syrup, and a flavoring like ginger and/or lemon. Switchel, also known as Haymaker’s Punch because of its refreshing nature, became the refreshment for those working long hours out in the hot sun. However, it was not only consumed by ordinary folk but was always available on the floors of our early Congress, reportedly with a liberal flavoring of Jamacian Rum. This, shall we say, fortified switchel, probably “flavored” a few of our country’s famous and formative oratories.

Left: Switchel, Right top: Salmon with lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper, Right bottom: A lemony spring spread

Spring Awakening

Tender green buds unfold on the trees. Plants poke their first leaves up through the cool earth. Nature is waking up, opening its eyes, and soon will show its full, adorned glory. Meanwhile, my sweet pea seeds have been tucked into the earth along the fenceline. Tomato, pepper, and eggplant seedlings are moving into adolescence under the grow-lights in my basement. The vegetable seed packets have been arranged and rearranged as I impatiently wait to plant them in the garden.  

Above: Risotto al limone

Warmer days are on the horizon. Evenings spent outdoors with dear friends will be here soon.  At the moment, though, I’m trying to decide, do I make marmalade or preserved lemons with the extras taking up space in my fridge? Such is the sweet conundrum of a lemon-filled spring. 

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My Kind of Bowling

A Bowl for a Chilly Night

It was the evening of Valentine’s Day. The temperature outside hovered around 20 degrees below zero as the coldness sunk into the cellar. We couldn’t bring ourselves to venture outside to dine in a restaurant. It was just too cold. We needed a hot meal in steaming bowls to enjoy in the coziness of our snug house.

As I considered what to make that would be both a special meal and fit the warming requirement, my mind went to a spicy Asian noodle bowl I’d been wanting to try for some time.  This recipe overflows with my favorite ingredients: lemongrass, ginger root, turmeric, garlic, and chicken thighs. I started to chop, sauté, and stir. Soon the rich aromas filled the kitchen, satisfying my soul like the temperature outside could not. 

The steam swirling off the bowls at the dinner table was intoxicating. The first sip, pure pleasure. In addition to the temperature, it held just enough spice to heat up our mouths as we slurped and swallowed. The mix of herbs and spices created a complex and simply divine flavor. On that frigid eve, this bowl hit the spot.

Japanese beef, baby Bok Choy, and Udon noodle bowl.

Asian Bowls Aplenty

What is it with Asian soups and bowls? They have become all the rage, and for good reason. Whether they come from Japan, Vietnam, South Korea, Thailand, or Singapore, they burst with flavor and are simple to prepare. In many parts of Asia, people eat these soups for breakfast. I can see why. They are nourishing and contain just enough kick to wake you up.

Serving food in bowls has been a tradition in many parts of Asia for centuries. The bowls serve a dual purpose: they retain the heat, and because they are pretty much a one-dish meal, clean-up is a dream. The artwork on them reflects the culture’s love of beauty.

A Laska bowl from Singapore with shrimp, tofu, coconut cream, cilantro, lemongrass, and rice noodles.

Hot and Cold Varieties

To me these bowls of food seem a bit schizophrenic in that they can be either hot or cold. In hot bowls, the broth carries the bulk of the divine flavor. The cold versions contain similar ingredients, except they are mostly fresh or raw with the dressing and marinades holding the flavor. The hot versions are perfect for a cold, wintry night. The cold serves as a quick, refreshing meal on a hot summer’s evening when you have all those garden herbs and vegetables available.  

South Korean bowl with pork, tofu, and Napa cabbage kimchi.

Hot Bowls

One thing I have noticed about most hot bowls is the ease of preparation. You simply sauté the aromatics and spices in a little oil, and then you add water and meat to the pot. Leave it to simmer for a while, making an unctuous broth. Meanwhile, prepare any toppings, such as cilantro leaves, scallions, or lime wedges. When the broth has finished cooking, add the fresh vegetables, cook the noodles in a separate pot of hot water, drain them, and you’re ready to eat.  

Vietnamese soup with ground pork meatballs, scallions, and watercress.

Depending on the country of origin, the meats and other ingredients can vary. Some of my favorites include a Vietnamese soup that has little meatballs made of ground pork, scallions, and spices. Immediately before serving, add a couple handfuls of watercress for a lemony freshness. Another hails from South Korea. It includes small strips of pork tenderloin and Napa cabbage kimchi, a staple in Korean cuisine. The spicy kimchi juice adds a complex heat to the final dish.  

Japanese beef, baby Bok Choy, and Udon noodle bowl.

Cold Bowls

The cold versions don’t take much more time to prepare. I usually include some kind of starch, either rice or Asian noodles. I leave room in the bowl for many of the fresh vegetables to which I’m partial: sweet pea pods, strips of red and yellow peppers, julienned zucchini and carrot, Romaine lettuce leaves, and bean sprouts. The meat can be anything from chicken to shrimp, tossed in garlic, ginger, and chili and then sautéed. I’m particularly partial to the accompanying peanut dipping sauces or any sort of dressing made of flat-leaf parsley, cilantro, or mint leaves. I could almost drink this stuff it’s so delicious.

Cold bowl with chicken, fresh vegetables, spicy cauliflower rice, and peanut sauce.

For years, I have thought these bowls are better left to the experts in Thai or Vietnamese restaurants. I had no idea how simple it is to develop their complex flavor given a few key ingredients, a sharp knife, and a little creativity.

The next time you are thinking of making chicken noodle soup, pivot. Add some grated ginger root, curry powder, a squeeze of fresh lime juice, and you have a soup such as what millions wake up to everyday. It is so tasty, it may even inspire you to give up that bowl of daily oatmeal you enjoy so much and replace it with Laska, a shrimp and chicken noodle soup eaten for breakfast in Singapore.

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Grapefruit for Breakfast

The icy wind freezes on my face as I make my way through the neighborhood on my early morning walk. The middle of winter greets us with frigid temperatures, icy roads and sidewalks, and cloudy, shortened days. Bringing winter clothing fashion to new heights, we layer on woolen sweaters. Soft, thick mittens and hats keep our fingers and ears warm. As I come into my kitchen from the stark outdoor greyness, the fresh yellows, oranges, and greens that emanate from the citrus bowl greet me.

It is citrus season, and its arrival could not be more welcomed and appreciated. I have been collecting as many varieties of citrus as I can find. Their colorful freshness adds a much needed sparkle to my menus.

A Little Citrus History

Many kinds of citrus find themselves into my kitchen each winter. These varieties are for the most part hybrids from the three original species, pomelos, mandarin oranges, and citron. The common citrus fruits that we consume every day such as lemons, limes, oranges, and clementines are all hybrids from these three parents.

Meyer lemons and fingered citron

Citrus originated in Asia, which has the perfect climate for it to thrive. As we have moved down through the centuries, both intentional and accidental mutations and hybridizations have caused the wide variety of citrus fruits we enjoy throughout the world today.

Lemon poppyseed pound cake

Pomelos

Recently I tasted one of these grandparents of the citrus family, the pomelo. I was surprised at its sweetness. When I included halved sections in a couscous salad, the pomelo added a cool, sweet counter to the toothsome couscous. The pomelo is so large that the meat from a single fruit is enough to meet the needs of the entire recipe.

Pomelo couscous salad with mint and crispy onions

Grapefruit

Grapefruit are a hybrid developed from an accidental cross between the pomelo and the sweet orange. Juicy ruby grapefruit sections are most often enjoyed unadorned with breakfast. However, I try to find as many ways as possible to include this delicious winter fruit into my winter cuisine. Some of my favorite uses include grapefruit sections in a salad of mesclun greens, squeezed for juice, or made into a grapefruit curd.

Grapefruit shrimp salad with avocado and cilantro

I probably received my love of grapefruit from my father. Every morning, like clockwork, he would meticulously carve out the sections of an entire grapefruit and enjoy them with his breakfast. This is one of the many favorite memories I have of him. He always had a large bag of grapefruit taking up space in his refrigerator, hardly leaving room for his other culinary obsessions, French cheese and pickled herring.

Citron almond cake with grapefruit curd and fresh whipped cream

Meyer Lemons

Another seasonal favorite is Meyer lemons. They are juicy and sweet with tender, edible skins. I slice them into hearty braises, where they add a refreshing brightness.

Green olive, lemon, and dried plum braise with chicken

Meyer lemons are delicious when slivered into paper thin slices for relishes or marmalade. Strips can be candied and used to garnish the top of sweet confections. Recently I made a relish with fresh lemon, crushed red pepper, red onion, chives, and Italian parsley. This made for a delicious embellishment on savory meat sandwiches. The season for these is not long, so if you see them in the grocery store, snap them up when you can; or wait until next year.

Spicy lemon pork tenderloin topped with arugula and Meyer lemon relish on a baguette

Blood Oranges

Moving on to yet another citrus jewel, blood oranges. Blood oranges are a mutation from a sweet orange and originally grew in Italy and Spain. The red meat of the orange is caused by the water-soluble pigment anthocyanin. I first discovered these beauties in Italy where one is seemingly able to buy fresh squeezed blood orange juice anywhere and often in the most unsuspecting places, even in the roadside convenience stores. It has always seemed so lavish to me that this delicacy is so pervasive and easily available. In the US, I have occasionally found blood oranges in the grocery stores in the winter, so keep your eyes peeled for them. Blood oranges are beautiful when made into a salad with shaved fennel bulb and red onions or simply fresh squeezed into juice for a very unusual and special breakfast juice.

Kumquats

The most recent addition to my “favorites list” are kumquats. Kumquats are small ovals, about the size of a large green olive. They are completely edible. Some enjoy popping these little orbs into their mouths, eating them whole and raw. I prefer to create a sort of spilling fruit compote to spoon on top of a round of Camembert or Brie. The sweet/savory contrast makes for an hors d’oeuvres that will never disappoint.


Triple creme brie with warm kumquat sauce

To make this, simply saute slices of kumquats, onions, and garlic in sizzling butter until soft. Add a little brown sugar, white wine, a pinch of red pepper flakes, salt, and pepper. Let this cook on low for a few minutes to thicken. Spoon the warm sauce on top of a round of room temperature cheese and serve with a crusty baguette. Eh voila, you have just made a gorgeous and delicious yet very easy appetizer.

Cara Cara Oranges

A citrus that looks a bit similar to the blood orange is the Cara Cara orange. These have pink flesh, thanks to the carotenoid lycopene. They are a relative newcomer to the citrus world. Discovered in 1976, it is believed they were a mutation from the Washington navel orange. The pink flesh of the Cara Cara oranges makes the most luscious pink orange marmalade. Paddington bear would even approve.

Fingered Citron

One of the weirdest looking types of citrus that I’ve come across is the fingered citron, or as it’s called in southeast Asia, Buddha’s hand. When grated, its fragrant skin makes for pungent zest. When used in breads, muffins, and cakes, it results in a fruit-forward lemony flavor. Another trait similar to citron is that fingered citrons have no pulp or juice. Rather, their assets lie in their ability to make you think your kitchen is a lemon grove because of their aromatic zest. Recently I used its zest in an Italian lemon almond cake, and it resulted in a delightful lemony flavor.

Citron almond cake with grapefruit curd and fresh whipped cream

In this bleak midwinter, we have a refreshing recourse at the ready. A nutrient-packed collection of citrus fruits to enhance your menus, be it beverages, desserts, main dishes, salads, vegetables, hors d’oeuvres, or breads. Their fresh taste is certain to elevate everything they touch, your food as well as your spirits.

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A Year for Beans

“Never ever ever mess around with my greens. Especially the beans!” My sentiments exactly. This line from the musical Into the Woods echoed through my mind as I watched the beans twist and curl their way up the fences. This summer was, for me, an adventurous journey into the world of funky, heirloom beans. 

Too Many Kinds to Count

There were so many varieties, each with distinctive patterns and colors. White beans inside yellow pods, black or brown beans in green pods, pink stripes, purple stripes, deep purple; these are just a sampling of this summer’s collection. Even multiple continents made an appearance. There were beans from Italy, Ireland, the U.S., Germany, France, the Netherlands, and even a bean developed in good ol’ Minnesota. 

I used the forgotten spaces of the fenceline to plant the pole bean varieties. I tucked the bush beans into open areas or spaces previously used by early spring vegetables like radishes.  Because beans need to be planted once the soil is warm, you can inter-plant them with plants like sugar snap peas and radishes that bear quickly in the spring and then are done. Beans mature much later than radishes or peas, so by planting them in the same space, you are maximizing your garden yield. 

A Beneficial Legume for The Garden

Beans are part of the legume family. Legumes are a beneficial type of vegetable to plant throughout your garden because legumes fix nitrogen. They pull atmospheric nitrogen out of the air, and then the bacteria attached to its roots convert the nitrogen into a form usable as a nutrient for the plant. When the plant is done, the usable forms (ammonia, nitrates, and nitrites) are available in the soil for the nearby plant roots to use. Biological nitrogen fixation is an example of nature using its own plants to fertilize itself. 

Companion Planting the Beans

This concept is also referred to as companion planting, where plants mutually benefit each other when planted next to one another, a practice that has been done for centuries. Native Americans mastered this age-old practice when they would plant a combination of vegetables they named “the three sisters.” First they buried corn kernels into the ground in the shape of small rings, and then they surrounded the corn with beans. Lastly, they planted squash in the spaces between the corn/bean rings. The beans fertilized the soil for the corn and squash, using the tall corn stalks as a trellis to climb. The squash formed a high thick carpet on the ground that cooled the roots of the beans and corn, allowing them to thrive. The squash’s thick prickly leaves also served as a deterrent for animals that might want to come and nibble on the crops. 

The Health of Beans

Beans are not only good for the soil; they are likewise good for your health. A wonderful source of the B vitamin folate, they are also high in fiber, protein, iron, and magnesium. As a nutrient-packed, low fat, and very inexpensive vegetable, let’s just say their return on investment is huge. For each single little bean buried into the sweet summer dirt, you will reap a hundredfold in harvest.

Harvesting and Storing

I began harvesting the long, thin French varieties in July. They add a delightful crunch to salads. You can steam them with a touch of butter and lemon or steam and quickly cool them to dip into aioli on an antipasto platter. The wax and purple varieties came next. These went into stir fries, soups, and casseroles. Finally, a breakpoint arrived where I halted harvesting them so the remaining could mature and become dried beans for this winter. 

This is where I find myself now. I have brought all the beans in from the garden. I have threshed the driest of the bunch to get the beans out of the stiff, dried pod. The rest find themselves spread out in the basement until they are also ready for threshing. 

I have pulled out a select few from each variety to plant again next year. I will store these in a cool spot until early next summer when I will plant them. The remaining dried beans are awaiting incorporation into our winter menu of hearty stews, casseroles, bean salads, and dips.

Garden grown beans offer a welcome consolation in these cool, dreary, autumn days. Whether it’s a cassoulet or a bowl of ham and bean soup, these are the gifts summer has given to winter. The memory of delicate purple flowers gracing the tips of vines exploring their way up and over the fenceline. Tiny little bean pods transforming into delicious adult counterparts. I taste these memories as I bring a spoonful to my lips. 

Yes, as the fairy tales have claimed, beans are certainly magical. And they are not to be messed with.

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For the Love of Tomatoes

How is it that our favorite vegetable is only available in its perfectly ripened glory for a couple months in late summer? Tomatoes, naturally sweetened by the sun, have a fresh yet unami quality that is hard to replicate in the winter months. Their shortened availability feeds our ubiquitous obsession with the pomme d’amour of all colors and sizes.

Growing Tomatoes

I have grown (and attempted to grow) tomatoes for over 30 years. They can actually be quite a finicky plant to grow well. Many factors go into successfully planting, growing, and harvesting these beauties. They are known to be heavy feeders, so you want to plant them in rich soil. They tend to be susceptible to diseases, especially those that are moisture-related. A number of insects agree with us and think they are delicious. They do best in as much sun as they can get. The stems can break easily, so we’re always looking for the newest and greatest way to support them. This is getting to be a daunting list.

Despite these potential obstacles, tomatoes are the one vegetable around which my garden is organized. My primario. I decide where in the garden I am going to move my tomatoes (because, of course, tomatoes are picky about this as well. They shouldn’t be planted in the same spot year to year, or they will get a blight disease that harbors in the soil). Once I know they’ll be in a spot they fancy and where they’ll flourish, I lay out the blueprint for the rest of my garden.

Choosing Varieties

My first consideration in choosing which tomatoes to plant is always about how I am going to use them in the kitchen. Will they be eaten fresh, in sandwiches, in salads, or as part of an hors d’oeuvre? How much pasta sauce or salsa am I going to preserve this year?

IMG_2549 (2)

That leads me to which varieties are going to serve my needs best. I tend to prefer the complex flavors, shapes and colors of heirlooms, yet I am constantly frustrated by how easily they get diseased and how relatively few tomatoes each plant produces. After years of planting only heirlooms or hybrids, the last few years I have planted a cross between the two. I am hedging my bets, hoping that the best qualities of each will shine through.

Provençal tomato mustard tart

I have faithfully done everything my high-maintenance, lipstick-colored orbs require. The soil has been enriched with compost, they have been fertilized, mulched, pruned, staked, nipped, and tucked. Now it’s time for them to start giving back. To earn their keep, so to speak. It’s August, and I have big culinary plans, almost all of which involves tomatoes.

Cooking with Tomatoes

Let’s start simply. The cherry versions often don’t make it out of the garden, nibbled by kids and adults alike. One of my favorite treats is to sprinkle an interesting sea salt on slices and eat these while still warm from the sunshine.

Heirloom tomatoes, fresh Mozzarella, and red basil with crostini

This is when I splurge on great olive oil, as freshly pressed as I can find. I lean toward the grassy peppery flavor tones. This gets drizzled over tomatoes, slivers of my newly harvested garlic, pieces of torn basil leaves, crushed pepper, and a flaky sea salt. When stacked atop a slice of grilled baguette, it becomes a dish I could actually eat every night of the year. I know I can’t, however, thus compounding its allure.

Basil and mint laced Burrata on a zucchini Swiss chard fritter

My imagination for their uses is only limited by the available waking hours of the days. I tuck tomatoes into tarts, crepes, tacos, soups, pizza, braises, pasta dishes, salads, and sandwiches. I haven’t included them in my oatmeal or homemade ice cream, so for now, breakfast and dessert haven’t been invaded. I’ll have to work on that. A tomato sorbet might be in my future.

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Random Beauty: Self-Seeding

It was a cool, late spring afternoon. The sun shone, but there was a slight bite in the air. We were itching to dig outside in the dirt. My kids inspected the garlic patch, which was by now a foot tall. They called out to me, “Mom, we can’t believe you haven’t weeded the garlic. Look at all the weeds coming out of the ground.” I came over to inspect, and then I started to explain each little plant. This one was arugula. That one was fennel. Over here was dill. There was cilantro. These weren’t weeds at all. They were self-seeding plants from previous years.

Arugula growing amid the garlic
Arugula growing amid the garlic

Self-Seeding: What is it?

Self-seeding happens when a plant is left to flower and then go to seed. In the summer sun, these seeds dry out and drop onto the ground or are blown by the wind. They sink into the soil and stay there until the time is right for them to germinate and grow into a new plant. This is nature’s way of sustaining itself. It’s also how a weed can go from one plant to 300 in no time flat.

Over the past number of years, I have been increasingly intentional about letting my herbs and vegetables produce flowers so the beneficial insects have nectar to eat. On any summer day, fennel, cilantro, arugula, and lettuce flowers are covered with little hoverflies or bumblebees busily sucking in the sweet nectar these flowers provide. As they move from flower to flower, these diminutive bugs play the essential role of pollinating our fruit and vegetable plants.

Radish flowers that I am allowing to self-seed for next year
Radish flowers that I am allowing to self-seed for next year
Sporadic onion flowers growing up after they were missed in last year's harvest
Sporadic onion flowers growing up after they were missed in last year’s harvest

Why Self-Seed?

Many might say that letting plants self-seed is the lazy gardener’s way of operating. That is true in some respect. It can also be a frugal way to garden. When you let plants self-seed, you don’t have to buy the seed or plant the seed. It just comes up on its own.

I tend to have a favorable perspective on the philosophy of self-seeding. I love the whimsy of a coleus flower poking up in the middle of my radishes or a bachelor button in my beets. Cilantro taking root within my carrots brings me joy. Loveliness arises when a broad, white dill flower stands proudly next to the cucumbers. Order is laced with beautiful disarray.

Cilantro next to the garlic
Cilantro next to the garlic
Lettuce flowers that will self-seed for next year
Lettuce flowers that will self-seed for next year
Resting on the kale, a sporadic onion flower that grew up after being missed in last year's harvest
Resting on the kale, a sporadic onion flower that grew up after being missed in last year’s harvest

Ordered Chaos

Yesterday as I was harvesting berries, tucked up under the branches of the mulberry tree which the birds planted years ago, I noticed that the clematis had vined up around a lower mulberry branch. The plum-colored flowers intertwined with the dark purple berries. This simple artistry caught me and drew me in. The intentional encircling the accidental, the fanciful result of order marrying chaos.

Clematis vining up the mulberry tree
Clematis vining up the mulberry tree

Many gardeners set aside a designated garden space for self-seeding plants. Sometimes they combine this with their perennial vegetable garden. Perennial vegetables include plants like asparagus, rhubarb, raspberries, strawberries, walking onions, thyme, chives, and oregano. If these two categories mix in the same space, technically one never needs to plant these vegetables and herbs again. As the saying goes, “One only plants tomatillos once.” Tomatillos are famous for self-seeding.

Exceptions to Self-Seeding

There are a few caveats in this whole discussion. I do weed extensively in places where I do not want self-seeding plants to grow. For example, a lot of dill came up in a section where I had planted beets. I harvested the dill when it was five or six inches tall, opening up the space for the beets to grow and thrive. A similar thing happened where I planted my Basil Genovese. Arugula was happily growing very tall, shading the tiny basil plants. Guess what I ate for dinner last night? An arugula salad. The dill is going to top a baked slab of fish shortly.

Arugula and dill amid the garlic
Arugula and dill amid the garlic
Dill growing up in the carrot patch
Dill growing up in the carrot patch

Another point I want to be sure and mention is to not let invasive plants self-seed. As much as the bees go crazy for mint flowers, I am fastidious about plucking them off the mint plants before they can drop their seed and spread around the garden. The same holds true for both regular and garlic chives. Heirloom tomatoes can be included as well simply because if you let tomatoes drop onto the ground and they rot there for the rest of the summer, a tight collection of tomato plants will sprout the next year. These will undoubtedly be planted in the wrong spot and too tightly together. You can carefully transplant a few of them into the intended spots, but the rest will probably go into the compost pile.

Compost Plants

Speaking of compost piles, there’s many a squash or plant that has emerged from its surface because someone discarded their extras the previous summer. Again, the delightful unintended consequences occasionally graced upon us by nature. The idea of something as delicious as squash growing out of the rot of compost is a concept paralleled in many aspects of life. I suppose this is what attracts me to the random beauty of self-seeded plants.

Dill growing up in the carrot patch
Dill growing up in the carrot patch
Radish flowers that will self-seed for next year
Radish flowers that will self-seed for next year

I will savor the cilantro in my mango salad. The radish flowers (a plant I’m allowing to self-seed for next year) are going into a bouquet on my dining room table. The sunflowers and bachelor buttons will bloom and then dry to drop their seeds for another year. Beauty moves forward, magnifying into the future.

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The Bread of Home

Memory

The heady aroma of fresh bread wafting from the kitchen greets me. We are visiting my grandparents on their wheat farm in eastern Montana. Earlier in the day, my grandmother had scooped a bucket of wheat kernels from their granary. She brought the wheat into her kitchen and ground it in her grinder, the old-fashioned kind with a funnel-shaped top to hold the grain, a drawer at the bottom to catch the flour, and a hand crank that, when turned, transformed the kernels into flour. 

The smells of the freshly ground flour and the loaves turning golden in the oven, the taste of a warm slice smeared with fresh butter and homemade jam. These are ethereal memories. Many layers of meaning arise from this process, and the actual eating of the bread is only a small part. 

Ciabatta with butter and scratch strawberry rhubarb jam

Bread as a Symbol

When a loved one lavishes us an act of care and kindness, the smells, sights, and actions of that memory etch into the depths of our being. What started at a young age with my grandmother then continued as baking mentors cultivated and nurtured my passion. As such, the baking of bread has always held a deeper meaning for me.

A batch of cinnamon rolls

Bread represents a warm and welcoming home. It tells of the safe and quiet inspiration that grandmothers dole out so generously and displays the skills gained through time-tested experience. The baking of bread and its delectable bouquet evoke love, security, and hospitality.

Cinnamon roll and espresso

A Quiet Hour

Each step in the process is calming: softening the yeast, weighing the flour, and culturing the starter in a warm spot on the counter. I am careful when I measure my ingredients, minding the ratios of flour to liquid to yeast. 

With a rhythmic motion, I knead the dough. Understanding the elasticity in the dough tells me when it has been kneaded just the right amount of time. Then with anticipation, I watch the magic of the loaves rising, for there is a sense to knowing when it has risen enough. Finally, precision meets artistry as the dough bakes to a tan crust.  

Challah dough
Challah with poppy seeds

Baking bread elicits a feeling of home and a sense of family history. Recently I have been making beloved standards as well as venturing into other cultures to discover new techniques and flavorings. With bread I travel from family favorites to European classics, from sweet to savory. We can go from a simple white loaf to breads filled with hearty grains, seeds, nuts, fruits, and vegetables. No matter how ancient or distant the origin of the recipe, they all bring me back home.

Swedish limpa bread, a rye bread with orange zest and crushed caraway, fennel, and anise seeds

Living Bread

The more I bake, the more wild yeast escapes into my kitchen. My dough picks up this yeast and uses it. Over time the amount of yeast I need to add decreases. My kitchen becomes alive. It participates in the act of baking.

Ciabatta
Norwegian whole wheat bread with bisque from locally grown mushrooms
Ciabatta

Bread can also seed new bread, almost self sustaining. Many seasone