Fleeting

I woke up early this morning, very early. A strange brightness was piercing our usually dark bedroom. I slid out of bed and peeked out the window to see vast stretches of whiteness joining up with the dark sky at the horizon. There it was, just what I had been waiting for: snow, big and fluffy.

I should have pulled on my boots at that very moment and headed out into the starry pre-dawn. Instead, I snuggled back into bed for a bit. By the time I got up and out, the sun was up past the treeline and the snow was already starting to melt. All was beautiful, but fleeting....

Animals on Farm Dover Increase by 500!

I'm pretty sure my city friends will be convinced that I've totally lost it when they find out that we have recently added 500 earthworms to our existing livestock of fish and bees here on Farm Dover – and, that I'm excited to have them. These red wigglers are adapting to life in our basement and have three important roles: eat our kitchen garbage, produce natural, nutrient-filled fertilizer for our garden, and be on call for any impromptu fishing expeditions.

In preparation for these beneficial creatures, I've recently read two books: The Earth Moved: On the Remarkable Achievements of Earthworms, quite an engrossing read by Amy Stewart; and the more practical: Worms Eat My Garbage, by Mary Appelhof. If you had asked me a year ago if I thought I would be a worm farmer, I would not have even known how to respond to that question. Today, I'm quite passionate about this new hobby of mine. 

Maggie brought over our worms earlier in the week and I've been working to make them feel at home. I've transferred them to a large Tupperware container with air and drainage holes, purchased a burlap coffee bag for their roof, soaked a block of coconut coir for fluffy bedding and buried a banana peel, egg shells, coffee grinds and carrot peelings for their dinner. They seem to like their new home -- at least as far as I can tell.

The fancy term for this setup is "home vermicomposting system,"
otherwise known as my "worm bin."

If all goes as planned, they will settle right in, begin reproducing, eating, and producing worm casting (worm poop) that I'll add to my garden later this spring.

Next time you are over for a visit, just ask, and I'll introduce you to my worms. Assuming they thrive in their new home, I'll even send you home with your own starter kit!

The Spirit of Juniper

Just back from a week of bass fishing at The Juniper Club on the Silver Glen of Lake George, near Ocala, Florida. It's one of my favorite places on earth. The club was founded in 1909 by a group of thirty-four influential Louisville business and professional men and has grown over the years to more than 70 members, many of whom are grandsons of the founders.

While all the members are men and while many of the camps are stag, about the half the camps are now attended by spouses, widows of members and other female guests. Lucky me. For five days, Ed and I fished; we read; we ate; we slept. And then the next morning we started all over.

Every morning, we would head across Lake George to the Little Juniper River, a prehistoric-looking place if I've ever seen one.

Ed and fish.

Deb and fish.

A gator sunbathes on a palm tree trunk.

An owl sits at the fishing hole,
waiting to swoop down and grab our bait.

A pelican sits atop a piling, keeping watch for fish.

The club's forests encompass thousands of acres.
Every morning we would hike to the front entrance and back, keeping watch for black bears.

 

For more than a decade, we headed to Family Camp at Juniper with the kids and their friends.

The club house sits right on the Silver Glen, home to alligators, eagles, ospreys, otters, and a few clever bass.

Every night dinner begins with singing the club song and ends with marking the board with the number of fish caught.
That's an alligator skin mounted above the board. "Big George" was captured on the front lawn of the clubhouse.

The Blessings of Betty

Make the community able to invest in itself...by caring for its old people, and teaching its children. 

– Wendell Berry

 

Funny how funerals make you think about life.

Betty Y.’s funeral was this morning and Ed and I drove into town for it. It took place in Second Presbyterian's chapel where we had worshiped with Betty for more than 20 years. Like us, Betty was an 8:30-service person. Our regular seats were in the pew just behind her.  For the past decade or so, her head would bob slightly – perhaps from old age, but more likely in agreement with the sermon.

I’m sure lots of people will miss Betty. Certainly, Mary, our youngest, will. Their friendship goes back nearly a decade, but was reinforced each Sunday morning when Betty would turn around to offer us the sign of peace – with an extra squeeze of Mary’s hand, her eyes twinkling.

It all started by the time Mary was 13. One of Mary’s confirmation assignments was to interview a member of our congregation. Mary chose Betty, mostly I think, because she wasn’t scary and had always been gracious and kind and shown interest in Mary. I dropped Mary off at Betty's front door. The interview lasted most of an afternoon; Betty made Mary feel right at home as she settled in on the sofa in Betty’s front living room. While Mary was the one who was supposed to be asking the questions, the conversation would inevitably turn back to Mary. What did she think? What was new in her world?  

This conversation continued on for years. Mary would stop by her house and Betty would welcome her in. The last time was the week after Christmas. Mary stopped by with some homemade cheese straws and the conversation picked right up. What’s new in your world?, Betty wanted to know.

And what is new in your world Betty?, Mary asked. And then, more tentatively: How are your cancer treatments going? Betty said she was feeling pretty fine. Her four children, their spouses, and her five grandchildren had all been around for the holidays. She had loved every bit of it, but was looking forward to some quieter days working puzzles with her sister, Frances. She reassured Mary that while she might die with cancer; she certainly was not going to die of it. Be assured.

Betty was a blessing in Mary’s life. She forms a long line of people who have circled around our children: Bunch, Tom, Joe, Patrice, Glenda, Carol, Karen, Jane, Beth, Leanne, Randal, aunts, uncles, and other dear family and friends. Each has encouraged them when they needed encouraging; cheered for them when they needed cheering; thought of them just when they needed thinking of, remembered them on big and small occasions. Ed and I are indebted to all these people. It is by their actions that our children (now grown) have felt the love of community and now know how to render it to others.

The Joy of Quiet

Since we moved to the country, we have given up reading current newspapers (except for the Shelby County Sentinel-News). Instead, we read the Sunday New York Times a week late -- or sometimes a couple of weeks late. Other than the front page headlines, I find it doesn't really matter. Here's an article that I read yesterday about the joy of quiet.

Did you get to the part that says:

A series of tests in recent years has shown that after spending time in quiet rural settings, subjects “exhibit greater attentiveness, stronger memory and generally improved cognition. Their brains become both calmer and sharper.” More than that, empathy, as well as deep thought, depends on neural processes that are “inherently slow.” The very ones our high-speed lives have little time for.

Bodes well for us!

Making Amends

The calendar says it is mid-winter. Yet as I walk this morning the sun is warm on my face and I hear more bird song than in the past few weeks. The cardinal pairs are whistling their clear metallic chirp and I glimpse a Kentucky Warbler high in a tree singing its chuuree, chuuree song. Overhead, calls from a flock of Canada Geese flying in V-formation, signal to me the transition into a new season. Even though we have hardly had a winter, I am giddy with hopes for Spring.

I think my giddiness for Spring springs from my new garden. Since I last posted about staking it and applying straw to the top layer, much has happened. Danny showed up and added a layer of cow manure and then plowed up the entire garden. Maggie has been busy researching and ordering seeds from the Baker Creek Heirloom Seed catalog and has promised to get some seeds started in-doors for a jump start on the season. And Ed used a broadfork this past weekend to break up the larger lumps of clay. As you can tell, my new garden is turning into a community garden.

For my part, I took soil samples to the Shelby County Cooperative Extension Service. Fourteen days later, I received a detailed report on the state of my soil. Unfortunately, I had no idea what it was reporting -- high school chemistry was not my forte. 

Free of charge, the Cooperative Extension Service tested soil from my gardens.

Fortunately, I rely on the kindness of strangers, or, in this case, a new friend: Steve, proprietor of Fresh Start Growers' Supply on East Jefferson Street in downtown Louisville. In two seconds time, he informed me that I needed to make some amends. Specifically, my new garden needed some added nitrogen, potash and lime. I left there with 6 lbs. of sulfur, 10 lbs. of something called "Fluff the Bed" (a custom-blended fertilizer), and something else in a large unmarked bag. I also had a bag of organic winter rye to use as a cover crop and Steve assured me that it would sprout when the temperature reached 35 degrees (no problem these last two weeks).

So, this past weekend I amended the garden just as I was instructed and then broadcast the rye seed. As a cover crop, rye is supposed to hold the soil in place against the forces of wind and water and have a positive effect on soil tilth. I know it is having a positive effect on my disposition. Come on Spring!

Crazy, Confused and Other Effects of Global Warming

The Galloway Way

When I married Ed 25 years ago I had to learn "The Galloway Way" of doing things. The Galloway Way encompasses how one approaches life in general, but has at least three very specific components. Number 1: No whining. Number 2: (closely related to number 1) Be tough, buck up and push your way through pain. Number 3: Do not ever look at the picture on the box top of the jigsaw puzzle you are trying to work.

I have learned to embrace numbers 1 and 2, but this third one really stumps me. Do you have any idea how hard it it to work a 1000+ piece puzzle and not even know the subject matter?

In true Galloway fashion, Maggie and Mary worked their way through this Charley Harper puzzle. All those blue pieces were especially tough. Maggie's friend, Julie, who was visiting for the weekend, helped with the last handful of pieces. All done (except for one missing piece in the lower right corner.)

Time to break out a new puzzle. But, don't look at the box top! It's not the Galloway Way...

Ready

Learn Something New

One of my favorite parts about our new life here on the farm is the unending opportunities to learn new things. Whether it is planting trees, brewing beer, blazing trails, making compost, extracting honey, or changing the furnace filter, I feel like I'm constantly boosting my brain cells. Yesterday, was one such opportunity.

I was invited to Foxhollow Farm to participate in a dry run of one of the new classes that are being offered through the Foxhollow Folk School. My Maggie (Galloway) and Maggie Keith were teaching a class on the art of canning, using both hot water bath and pressure canning. While I had canned a few jams and some beets and beans this past year, I had never tried pressure canning.

The two Maggies led us through canning exercises using produce from Foxhollow's own garden. We pressure canned butternut squash and hot water canned pickled beets. It was a nice to spend a cold afternoon in the toasty kitchen at Foxhollow Farm learning a new skill.

The Maggies have plans to offer the canning class throughout the year. So even though I've taken this class, I'm planning to sign up for the one in the spring where we can jams and ones in the summer that feature okra, beans, cucumbers and other summer crops.

The Foxhollow Folk School is also offering classes in natural beekeeping, felting, how to make the perfect french baguette, artisan cheese making, and bluebird house building. I think most of these classes are sold out, but more are being planned. Check out the schedule and let me know if there is a class that interests you. I'd love to take it with you. Let's keep those brain cells multiplying.

With the butternut squash that I learned to can yesterday, dinner can be ready in five minutes.
Just saute an onion, add some chicken broth, a bit of nutmeg, salt and pepper and voila!: Butternut Squash Soup.

Seedlings Now; Towering Trees Some Day

One day last month District Forester Ben Lyle from the Kentucky Division of Forestry spent the better part of an afternoon tromping around Farm Dover dispensing all sorts of useful information to Bobby (our next-door-neighbor), Ed, and me.

Ben was here to create a customized forest stewardship plan based on our goals and objectives for our property – free of charge! He showed up at noon. I fed him a bowl of chili and then off we went for a three-hour tour...a three-hour tour. He identified trees on our property, talked to us about which trees we could add that would flourish on our farm, gave us advice about ways to improve wildlife habitat, and told us about seedlings available from his division.

The next morning, I called his office and ordered sixty trees. Well, "trees" may be a bit of an exaggeration. Someday they will be trees. Today they are seedlings, 12- to 24-inches in height. Many of the variety we wanted were already sold out. No pawpaws or pecans. No dogwoods or redbuds. No coffeetrees or chestnuts. No willow oaks or river birch. I'll try again in the fall.

Instead, priced very reasonably, I ordered 10 bald cypress, 10 hazelnut, 10 white oak, 10 yellow poplar, 10 bur oak and 10 mulberry seedlings. They arrived on our doorstep this week and so this afternoon, Ed and I headed out with fence post diggers to plant the trees. Because the seedlings are not very big, we tied a bright orange ribbon to the top of each one so that we won't run over them with the mower.

Just think, the 18-inch bald cypress seedlings that we planted today on the far bank of our pond may grow to more than 80 feet and may live for more than 1000 years. So the work we did this afternoon may provide shade for an afternoon of fishing for our great, great, great+ grandchildren. Fun to think about....

 

 

A Plague of Grackles

Thousands of boisterous grackles feed in our backyard.

Spoiled

Just back from a week in Mustique with my three sisters. Our aunt had reserved a beautiful villa and, at the last minute, was unable to get away. So off we went in her stead. Mustique is a small (very beautiful) private island in the West Indies – not easy to get to, but worth the effort. We hiked on the beach, snorkeled in the aqua blue waters, hit tennis balls, biked, bird watched, listened to jazz at Basil's.... But mostly, we just enjoyed being together. 

Can you tell that our mother used to dress us alike?

Girl Time

Ed is off to fish at The Juniper Club this week. Mary and I are left at home to fend for ourselves – which we do quite well. While we dearly miss Ed, life goes on pretty much as usual except 1) I have to get up and fix my own coffee in the morning instead of Ed bringing me a cup in bed and 2) instead of watching the ABC World News and Jeopardy, we tune into reruns of Gilmore Girls and Indie movies from Netflix: last night's choice was Cyrus and tonight was The Other Side of Sunday.

3) Our other indulgence is to cook all our favorite vegetarian meals. Her senior year in high school Mary declared that meat was off limits and, in support of that commitment, I discovered some delicious meatless recipes. (A year later, she was back to a full omnivore diet.) While Ed is happy to go meatless every once in a while, I suspect multiple days straight would be a bit much for him.

So while he is enjoying fried chicken, barbecue, fried fish, pork chops, etc., Mary and I are enjoying Lemony Chickpea Stir-fry, Black Beans and Rice Your Way, and City Cafe Stew.

For breakfast this morning, we even whipped up a Wheat Berry Breakfast Bowl,
courtesy of 101 Cookbooks – one of my all-time favorite food blogs.

I'm happy to share our recipes with you.
______________________

Lemony Chickpea Stir-fry
This is Mary and my favorite vegetarian recipe. It is also good with roasted cauliflower added in. I think it originally came to us from 101 Cookbooks.

ingredients
2 tablespoons olive oil
fine grain sea salt
1 small onion or a couple of shallots, diced
1 cup cooked chickpeas
(canned is fine)
8 oz. extra-firm tofu
1 cup chopped kale
2 small zucchini, chopped
zest and juice of 1/2 lemon

preparation
Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil. In a large skillet over medium heat and stir in a big pinch of salt, the onion, the chickpeas. Saute until the chickpeas are deeply golden and crusty. Stir in the tofu and cook just until the tofu is heated through, just a minute or so. Stir in the kale and cook for one minute more. Remove everything from the skillet onto a large plate and set aside. In the same skillet heat the remaining tablespoon olive oil and add the zucchini and saute until it starts to take on a bit of color, two or three minutes. Add the chickpea mixture back into the skillet, and remove heat. Stir in the lemon juice and zest, taste, and season with a bit more salt if needed. Turn out onto a platter and serve family style.

___________________________

Black Beans and Rice Your Way
Adapted from Gourmet magazine, April 2007

ingredients
For roasted sweet-potato cubes
1 pound sweet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/2 teaspoon salt
For rice and beans
2 1/4 cups water
1 1/2 cups long-grain white rice
3/4 teaspoon salt
2 cans black beans
For toasted pumpkin seeds
1 cup hulled (green) pumpkin seeds (also called pepitas; not toasted)
2 teaspoons olive oil
Accompaniments
cubes of avocado tossed with lime juice; tomatillo salsa; lime wedges; chopped white onion; fresh cilantro sprigs

preparation
Roast sweet-potato cubes
Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 450°F.
Toss sweet potatoes with oil and salt, then spread in 1 layer in a large shallow baking pan. Roast, stirring and turning over once or twice, until tender and browned, 35 to 40 minutes.

Cook rice while sweet potatoes roast
Bring water, rice, and salt to a boil in a 2- to 3-quart heavy saucepan, then reduce heat and cook, tightly covered, until rice is tender and water is absorbed, about 15 minutes. Let stand, covered, off heat 5 minutes, then fluff with a fork.

Toast pumpkin seeds while rice is cooking
Toast pumpkin seeds in a dry 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet (not nonstick; preferably cast-iron) over moderate heat, stirring, until seeds are puffed and pale golden, 3 to 4 minutes. Transfer to a bowl and stir in oil and salt to taste.

To serve
Heat black beans, thinning with water if necessary, then serve along with rice, sweet potatoes, pumpkin seeds, and accompaniments, each in a separate bowl.

_____________

 City Cafe Stew
Served at Louisville’s City Cafe. In tonight's dinner, we substituted chicken broth for the vegetable broth.

ingredients
1 medium butternut squash
1 tablespoon dried thyme
3 tablespoons olive oil
salt and pepper
1 bunch Swiss chard
1 medium shallot, peeled and minced
4 cloves garlic, peeled and minced
2 15-ounce cans Great Northern white beans, drained
1-2 cups vegetable broth
Parmesan cheese

preparation
Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Peel the butternut squash, cut in half and scoop out seeds. Cut the squash into 1-inch cubes. Put in a large bowl, sprinkle with thyme and 2 tablespoons of olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt and 1/4 teaspoon black pepper. Toss to coat squash with oil and seasonings. Place squash in a single layer on a baking sheet and roast 45 minutes, or until browned and tender, turning once. Wash Swiss Chard well. Pinch off stems from leaves. Chop stems and leaves separately. Heat remaining 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a heavy pot. Add minced shallots and garlic and chopped chard stems. Saute until tender 5-8 minutes. Add drained beans, roasted squash and 1 cup vegetable broth . Bring to boil, reduce heat, and simmer 15-20 minutes. Add chopped Swiss Chard leaves and cook until wilted, about 5 minutes more. Add more vegetable stock if the stew seems too thick. Serve in bowls with shaved Parmesan cheese.

Lay Straw While the Sun Shines

It's January 8th. The sun is shining and it is a warm 51 degrees outside – so warm in fact, that I shed my fleece and work in just shirt sleeves. My goal for today is to stake out the garden for the upcoming growing season and spread some straw on it so that it decomposes over the winter/spring and improves the soil underneath.

I pound some left-over tomato stakes into the four corners and string some twine amongst them to get a sense of the size plot that I am undertaking. I know I want it big enough to support a variety of vegetables, big enough to feed us, and big enough to share with friends -- but not so big that I get overwhelmed (yes, it happens easily to me.) I settle on a plot that is 25'x50'. It feels right. Time will tell.

I hoist the straw bales from the truck bed and march them one-at-time out to the staked-off area beside the cottage. I clip the twine that holds the bale together and begin laying the straw, working my way left to right, top to bottom of the plot. Four bales. Works out perfectly. 

Next steps include sitting by the fire and thumbing through seed catalogs and dreaming of what I want to plant, adding a layer of compost, starting seedlings from seed, nicely asking Danny to come plow, planning out what gets planted where and when, actually planting either the seeds or seedlings, weeding, watering, weeding some more, planting some more, weeding some more, harvesting, sharing, cooking, and offering thanks for the (hopeful) bounty. I can almost taste it now.

A New Use for Our Coffee Bean Grinder

There has been a bowl of cayenne peppers sitting on our kitchen counter for months and today was the day I finally took action. I harvested the peppers in August from our garden and supplemented them with ones from our CSA box from Foxhollow Farm. Since then, I've simply left them to dry.

This morning, I cut off the tops and popped the peppers, along with their seeds, in our coffee bean grinder and hit the "grind" button. What came out was fresh and fiery cayenne pepper powder. I could see the peppers' heat rising out of the grinder and had to be careful not to breathe the vapors.

Now, if I can just figure out how to get our coffee bean grinder totally free of cayenne pepper specks. Otherwise, tomorrow morning's coffee will have an added kick!

Did you know...

• Cayenne is a very good source of Vitamin A, Vitamin C, Vitamin B6, Vitamin K and manganese.
• Capsaicin is a powerful anti-inflammatory.
• Cayenne is said to relieve arthritic and rheumatic pain and inflammation.
• Cayenne is thought to reduce cholesterol levels in the blood and therefore reduce the risk of all forms of cardiovascular disease.
• Cayenne can be a useful cold, congestion and cough remedy.
• Cayenne is thought to boost the body's immunity system and prevent infection and illness.
• Contrary to popular belief, cayenne prevents the formation of stomach ulcers rather than actually causing them.
• Hot spices such as cayenne can speed up a person's metabolism and help burn off calories much quicker.
• Cayenne lowers the body's internal temperature, helping inhabitants of hot countries to cope with the intense heat and hot weather.
• Cayenne prevents blood clots forming and keeps the blood thin, which is useful in the prevention of strokes and cardiovascular disease.
• Cayenne is useful for diabetics, as it is thought to reduce blood sugar levels.
• Cayenne is a popular stimulant, tonic and energizer -- even known to be an aphrodisiac!
• Cayenne can be made into creams and ointments to be applied to the body externally in order to help heal bruises and muscle aches and pains.
• Cayenne is an effective stimulant to the circulation, used to treat sufferers of poor circulation, cold hands and feet and chilblains.
• One article I read said a cup of hot cayenne tea can even be used to treat a heart attack!  I can't imagine that I would be thinking straight enough to brew a cup of cayenne tea if someone was in the midst of an attack. Wish me luck.

Something's Brewing in Our Laundry Room

Beer is living proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. 
– Benjamin Franklin

Back in December Maggie and Ed hatched a plan to brew beer here at Farm Dover. They met at My Old Kentucky Homebrew, on Story Avenue in Butchertown and came away with a truckload of beer brewing paraphernalia. I think their plan centered on Ed buying the equipment and helping drink the final product. I'm not sure it included him actually learning how to brew the beer.

So, over the Christmas holidays, Maggie, with help from friend Nate, set about a 17-step process with instructions that began:

Buy some ice, drink some beer and sanitize everything...

Check. Check. Check. They then proceeded to bring a big pot of water to boil, seep a tea of grain malts, add malt extract, drink some beer (per instructions), add some hops, cool it all down in an ice bath, and pitch (?) the yeast.  It all looked like a mad-scientist experiment to me. At the end of the evening, the pail full of ale was placed in the laundry room. The door was closed and the beer began its primary fermentation.

A week later, Maggie was back to check the gravity and prepare the brew for its secondary fermentation in a glass carboy (see photo below). 

We've got another week or so to go before the beer is ready to be bottled. And then the bottles need to sit for about a week to carbonate. So, by my calculations, Farm Dover beer should be ready for consumption on or about my birthday. Won't you come celebrate with us?

House Fit for a Queen (Bee)

Look what Maggie got for Christmas! It's a bee house, designed and built by Maggie's friend Doug (dad of Maggie's boyfriend, Nate.) I have a feeling that she is planning to move it over to Foxhollow Farm, where she lives and works. But in the meantime, it is stationed at Farm Dover (in our living room) and I'm loving looking at it. So beautiful...

Under the copper roof is the super (2nd floor)
and the hive body – where the honey frames are – makes up the 1st floor.
The bees come and go from the opening at the bottom. Lucky bees!

I Never Thought It Was Such a Bad Little Tree...

"I never thought it was such a bad little tree.
It's not bad at all, really. Maybe it just needs a little love."
-Linus, from A Charlie Brown Christmas.

When we moved to the country Mary requested that we have a "real" Christmas tree. I decided that it would make sense to buy a tree that we could replant on the farm -- and watch grow in the coming years. But by the time I got around to it, I could only find a smallish tree. I never thought it was such a bad little tree. 

It wasn't bad at all, really. Maybe it just needed a little love.  So we loved it, and planted it, and watered it, and now we'll watch it grow.

Mary and her friend John loving our little tree.

Clearing Trails

Ed and I spent the better part of a recent sunny day clearing a trail that we hope will someday soon circumnavigate our property.

We started at a fallen tree on the far side of the lake and worked our way all the way down to where the creek crosses the back tree line.

Along the way, Ed split some wood for our winter fires.

Armed with chainsaw, clippers, and a weed whipper, we worked our way through a thick and thorny briarpatch.

It was tough, but rewarding work. Here's how it looks so far.

I think it is lovely and can't wait to take a hike down to the creek, with picnic basket in tow.
Hope you will come join me....

Missing Our Buddy

Our Buddy is far away this Christmas in Germany. We all miss him so much...and I think he is missing us as well. Here are the Christmas greetings that we got from Jack this morning.

Merry Christmas to all.

The Profoundness of the Everyday

There are certain dishes that I make only once a year and I make them only at certain times of the year. Osso Buco is one of those dishes. Sometimes I make it at Christmastime, sometimes on a cold January night, and occasionally it shows up on Valentine's Day; but never in the months between March and November.

Tonight, the house is filled with the smells of veal braising with onions, carrots, celery, tomatoes, pancetta and a splash of Madera. Two hours and counting until we sit down for a "fortress-like look of tender shanks floating on a moat of risotto." I didn't make that up, it is paraphrased from a poem by Billy Collins, who, in my opinion, is a master at taking everyday occurrences and somehow making them profound. (He's been called "the most popular poet in America" by the New York Times.) Here's how he describes an Osso Buco meal his wife prepared: 

Osso Buco

I love the sound of the bone against the plate
and the fortress-like look of it
lying before me in a moat of risotto,
the meat soft as the leg of an angel
who has lived a purely airborne existence.
And best of all, the secret marrow,
the invaded privacy of the animal
prized out with a knife and swallowed down
with cold, exhilarating wine.

I am swaying now in the hour after dinner,
a citizen tilted back on his chair,
a creature with a full stomach--
something you don't hear much about in poetry,
that sanctuary of hunger and deprivation.
you know: the driving rain, the boots by the door,
small birds searching for berries in winter.

But tonight, the lion of contentment
has placed a warm heavy paw on my chest,
and I can only close my eyes and listen
to the drums of woe throbbing in the distance
and the sound of my wife's laughter
on the telephone in the next room,
the woman who cooked the savory osso buco,
who pointed to show the butcher the ones she wanted.
She who talks to her faraway friend
while I linger here at the table
with a hot, companionable cup of tea,
feeling like one of the friendly natives,
a reliable guide, maybe even the chief's favorite son.

Somewhere, a man is crawling up a rocky hillside
on bleeding knees and palms, an Irish penitent
carrying the stone of the world in his stomach;
and elsewhere people of all nations stare
at one another across a long, empty table.

But here, the candles give off their warm glow,
the same light that Shakespeare and Izaac Walton wrote by,
the light that lit and shadowed the faces of history.
Only now it plays on the blue plates,
the crumpled napkins, the crossed knife and fork.

In a while, one of us will go up to bed
and the other will follow.
Then we will slip below the surface of the night
into miles of water, drifting down and down
to the dark, soundless bottom
until the weight of dreams pulls us lower still,
below the shale and layered rock,
beneath the strata of hunger and pleasure,
into the broken bones of the earth itself,
into the marrow of the only place we know.

Billy Collins,
The Art of Drowning

So, it is my hope that on this eve before Christmas Eve the lion of contentment will place a heavy paw on our chests and that we will slip into a dreams so deep that they are below the shale and layered rock, beneath the strata of hunger and pleasure, into the broken bones of the earth itself, into the marrow of the only place we know. 

See what I mean: Osso Buco gets pretty profound with Billy Collins.

Osso Buco
Adapted from Comforting Foods

Gremolata:
1 lemon, scrubbed
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tablespoons finely chopped Italian parsley

With a vegetable peeler, cut off the lemon zest into thin strips. Cut the strips into thin 3/4-inch-long pieces. Bring a small saucepan of water to a boil, add the strips of lemon zest, and cook for 2 minutes. Drain well and dry on a paper towel. In a small bowl, toss the lemon zest with the garlic and parsley. Cover and set aside.

Osso Buco:
Four 1 to 1-1/2 pound pieces veal hind shanks, tied around their sides with kitchen string
Kosher salt
Black pepper
All-purpose flour
1 cup olive oil
1 medium-size onion, cut into 1/4-inch dice
1 medium-size carrot, peeled and cut into 1/4-inch dice
1 medium-size rib celery, cut into 1/4-inch dice
1/2 ounce pancetta, finely chopped
1 large garlic clove, finely chopped
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh sage
1 teaspoon finely chopped fresh rosemary
1 tablespoon tomato paste
One 28-ounce can peeled whole plum tomatoes with their juices
1 cup Marsala
6 cups chicken stock

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Season the veal shanks with salt and pepper and dust them generously with all-purpose flour. In a Dutch oven just large enough to hold the veal shanks in a single layer, heat the 1 cup of olive oil over medium heat. add the veal shanks and brown evenly, 4 to 5 minutes per side and on their edges as well. Remove them from the Dutch oven and set aside.

Add the onion, carrot, celery and pancetta to the dutch oven and cook, stirring until the vegetables are just tender and the onion and celery are opaque, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the garlic, parsley, sage and rosemary and cook, stirring, until the herbs release their aroma, 30 seconds to 1 minute. Reduce the heat to low, add the tomato paste, and cook, stirring slowly for about 3 minutes more. 

Add the canned tomatoes, breaking them up with your hands. Raise the heat to medium and cook, stirring occasionally, until their juices reduce to a think consistency, 7 to 10 minutes. Add the Marsala and cook, stirring occasionally, until the liquid again has all but evaporated, 7 to 10 minutes more.

Stir in the chicken stock and bring the liquid to a boil. Add the veal shanks to the dutch oven. Cover and put it in the preheated oven. Cook the veal shanks until the meat is very tender, about 2 hours. Remove them from the Dutch oven and, with a large spoon, skim the fat from the surface of the cooking liquid. Cut and remove the veal shanks' strings and place each one on a serving of risotto or polenta. Top with gremolata.

Enjoy.

It's What Is on the Inside that Counts

Buddy, it's fruitcake weather!

-  "A Christmas Memory" by Truman Capote

Growing up I was subjected to dozens of my mother's momalies – you know those irritating sayings that every mother tells her children over and over in the hopes that they might actually take heed of them. Among my mother's most often repeated:

• If you want to fight, go join the army.
• Smile and the whole world smiles with you; frown and you frown alone.
• Pretty is as pretty does.
• It's what is on the inside that counts. 

It seems to me that this last one has some merit – especially as it applies to people and fruitcakes, and maybe even to people who are fruitcakes. 

I'm convinced that if you asked 100 people if they like fruitcakes, 99 percent of them would say "no." If you asked them if they have every actually tasted a fruitcake, 99 percent of them would say "no" to that question as well. 

This Christmas season, I challenge you to give fruitcakes a chance. It helps if you can find a homemade one (baked in the fourth quarter of 2011) and if you know what is in it. Here's the ingredient list from the recipe that I've made every year since 1983:

golden raisins

dark raisins

candied cherries

chopped dates

chopped prunes

chopped dried apricots

chopped mixed candied peel

freshly grated lemon rind

freshly grated orange rind

fresh lemon juice

fresh orange juice

green apple, peeled, cored and diced

whiskey

Drambuie

unsalted butter 

sugar

eggs

slivered almonds, ground

all-purpose flour

freshly grated nutmeg

cinnamon

salt

If you go down the list, you may find, as I do, that you actually like all the ingredients (except perhaps the bright red cherries that always remind me of Shirley Temple drinks).  A bunch of dried fruit, a jigger of whiskey, a splash of Drambuie, and enough eggs, butter, sugar and flour to barely hold it together: What's not to like?

I spent the morning making fruitcakes, a holiday tradition. Can I serve you a slice?

Here's the second part of your assignment: Find a copy of Truman Capote's "A Christmas Memory." Slice a piece of fruitcake, brew a cup of tea, settle into a comfy chair and read (or reread) this holiday masterpiece about seven-year-old Buddy, his eccentric and elderly cousin, and their Christmas ritual – baking of fruitcakes – that so symbolizes their special love for each other. 

Another holiday tradition for me.

_________________

 
Queen’s Own Highlanders Fruitcake
I’ve been making this recipe for 30 years. Jack often helps. We enjoy it a Christmastime and always make an extra cake for brother-in-law George. The recipe first appear in Gourmet magazine in the early 1980s.

ingredients
2-1/4 cups golden raisins
2-1/4 cups dark raisins
1/2 cup chopped candied cherries
1/2 cup chopped dates
2 tablespoons chopped prunes
2 tablespoons chopped dried apricots
1/3 cup chopped mixed candied peel
1 teaspoon freshly grated lemon rind
1 teaspoon freshly grated orange rind
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/4 cup fresh orange juice
1/2 small green apple, peeled, cored and diced
1/4 cup whiskey
2 tablespoons Drambuie
1/2 stick (1/4 cup) unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup sugar
3 large eggs
1/2 cup slivered almonds, ground
1-3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt


preparation
In a large bowl combine well the golden and dark raisins, the cherries, the dates, the prunes, the apricots, the mixed peel, the lemon and orange rinds, the lemon and orange juices, the apple, the whiskey, and 1 tablespoon of the Drambuie and let the mixture macerate, covered with plastic wrap, in a cool place, stirring well every 24 hour, for 1 week.

Preheat oven to 275 degrees.

In a large bowl with an electric mixer cream together the butter and the sugar until the mixture is light and fluffy and beat in the eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition. Beat in the almonds and add the fruit mixture, stirring until the mixture is combined well. Into a bowl sift together the flour, the nutmeg, the cinnamon, and the salt and stir the flour mixture into the fruit mixture.

Line the bottom and side of a 9-inch round cake pan, 2 inches deep, with a double thickness of wax paper and butter (or spray) the wax paper. Pour the batter into the pan, smoothing the top and pressing the fruit into the edges of the pan, and bake the cake for 1 hour and 45 minutes, or until a tester comes out clan. Pour the remaining 1 tablespoon of Drambuie over the cake and let it cool. Invert the cake onto a plate and peel off the wax paper gently and wrap in foil and store in a tin.

The cake will keep for up to one month (although George claims it keeps for months -- if you add a bit more whiskey ever now and then!)

makes 1 cake.
 

Baking Memories

I was alone in the kitchen today baking an early batch of holiday cheesestraws. I wanted to get a tin of them mailed off to Jack in Germany -- a bit of love packed in a brown box full of other Christmas greetings.  But I wasn't really alone. I was with Grandmommy in her Cannons Lane kitchen; I was in our kitchen on Rainbow Drive with Maggie, Jack and Mary -- ages 6, 8 and 10; I was with Maggie in her Lathrop Street apartment in Madison, WI.

This time of year always brings a flood of cheesestraw-baking memories back to me. I like the memories as much as I like the spicy-cheddary nibbles. Grandmommy started the tradition. Seems to me she used to make them with her friend Amelia, and then one year Amelia wasn't there anymore and I was recruited to help her.

It was a two-day process. Two full days. On day one, we would grind our own blend of sharp and mild cheddar cheese. We'd mount a grater contraption to the kitchen countertop and I'd feed blocks of cheese into a funnel while Grandmommy cranked. When her arm would tire, we would switch jobs. We'd add two sticks of Fleishmann's margarine to each bowl of 4 cups of cheese and top each bowl with Saran Wrap and place it on the floor of Grandmommy's kitchen, near the hot air vents so that it would warm up overnight. The next morning, no matter how early I'd show up, Grandmommy would be up and hard at work cranking out sheet after sheet of squiggly dough. She had special cookie presses, special baking sheets, even a special spatula to slide the hot finished product onto foil paper. Once they were cool, we'd carefully pack up the mountain of cheesestraws into Christmas tins. When all that was left were the crumbs, Grandmommy would fill a tupperware of the "crumbs" as her cache.

The year before she moved from her home to the Episcopal Church Nursing Home, she packed up all her cheesestraw equipment and brought it over to our kitchen on Rainbow Drive. She was there to pass on to me not only a canvas bag full of assorted graters and cookie presses, but the mantle of being the one to continue the tradition. I suggested that we use Kraft bags of already shredded cheese and perhaps even real "butter." She wouldn't have any of it. "Don't mess with what you know works," she admonished me. That was our last time together baking.

For next several years, Maggie, Jack and Mary would pitch in. They come through the kitchen and help me press out one or two sheets of squiggles and then they would be off to sports, or homework, or whatever else consumed their lives those days. If I was lucky, they would deliver them to neighbors and their favorite teachers.

When Maggie was senior in college she asked me to come to Madison and bake cheesestraws with her. The plan was for me to fly to Chicago, take the Badger Bus to Madison, bake with her the next day, hang out while she delivered cheesestraws to her crew teammates and took her last final and then drive home with her for Christmas break. As we baked, the snow started to fall. It snowed and snowed and snowed: 18-inches of fresh, fluffy, beautiful snow. For the first time in the University of Wisconsin's history, school was called off. Heading south to Kentucky wasn't even an option. So we shoveled Maggie's sidewalk, took a city bus downtown to a movie (we were the only ones in the theatre), did a little Christmas shopping on Regent Street and just hunkered down until life returned to normal. Don't tell Maggie, but it was a very special time for me.

This year the cheesestraw tradition continues. Mary has already requested a day in the kitchen baking cheesestraws for her friends. She comes home on Saturday, so one day that next week, we'll haul out the presses, the cookie sheets and the special spatula. Maybe Maggie will come join us. Grandmommy would be so pleased.

____________________

Mary Rinehart's Christmas Cheesestraws

This recipe fills about 4 medium tins (5"x7") 

The night before, set out cheeses and margarine to allow to come to room temperature.

ingredients:
2 stick of Fleishmann’s unsalted margarine (226 gr) -- left at room temperature until it is soft
2 cups of finely grated sharp cheddar cheese - room temperature (8 oz package)
2 cups of finely grated mild cheddar cheese - room temperature (8 oz package)
3-1/2 cups sifted Swans Down Cake Flour (14.5 oz)
1 level rounded teaspoon cayenne pepper (or slightly more if you want them spicy!)
3-1/2 teaspoons salt

preparation:
Preheat over to 350 degrees (convection)
Combine margarine and cheeses in standing mixer. (I use the coated flat beater attachment.) Mix well.
Sift flour together with salt and cayenne pepper.
Add flour mixture to cheese mixture and mix well.
Form into “large bullets” and put mixture into cookie press fitted with a star attachment. If dough seems cold or stiff, put it in the microwave for 15 seconds.
Crank out onto light colored cookie sheets in “snakey” pattern.
Bake for 14 minutes, or until just slightly brown. If not using a convection oven, switch cookie sheets half way through baking.
Once cooled, slide straws off onto foil paper and let cool completely before packaging in tins.

Give only to those you really love.