Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts
Showing posts with label reading. Show all posts

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Pesto, Pickles, and Mock Apple Cobbler

**My apologies in advance. This post is ridiculously out of order. I don't really know how to put it into a better order without deleting the whole thing and starting from scratch, but it is 12:16 a.m. and, as I do not have a tiny infant to keep me up whether I'm blogging or not, I have better things to do, like sleep.

After a long week of doing things mostly outside of the kitchen, I got back in the swing of things today. Here's my kitchen, with mock apple cobbler to the left of the stove, sauteed zucchini on the stove, tomato pie to the right of the stove, and pickles-in-process in the front.
Earlier this week I signed up for a "Pesto Party" with our CSA. I wasn't sure whether I should plan to go or not. I had a job interview on Wednesday for a job that would have started tomorrow. I had a second interview on Thursday. I started to regret having signed up for the Pesto Party on my last day of summer vacation, but then on Friday evening I got a voicemail from the Principal saying they'd chosen a different candidate who was "more what they were looking for in a candidate." They always pick that person. Some day I will be that person, right? Not getting the job was both good and bad. I wasn't sure how I'd handle the 90 minute commute each way (without air conditioning. In Summer. Driving into the sun both ways), I didn't want to leave our current house, or our current neighbors, or my little job at the museum. I didn't want to have to find a new grocery store. Seriously. That thought crossed my mind. I don't even like shopping at the grocery store anymore.

I did find myself at the grocery store this morning, though. (First I stopped at the farm stand, which did not have any large yellow onions. The vendor said the truck would be coming by in half an hour, so I stopped again on my way home and bought two. And a cantaloupe. Because you know what happens when I look for cantaloupe at the farmers' market.) I needed flour, sugar, Parmesan cheese, and milk. I did not need eggs, nor do I prefer to buy them at the grocery store (although I will buy their organic eggs when necessary) but I was relieved (?) to see that the eggs that this particular grocery store sells are from a DIFFERENT farm (CAFO) in Iowa, and are thus not affected by the egg-normous recall currently affecting the Midwest.

While I was home from the store by a little after 10 (and I'd even already taken Oliver for a walk), I didn't really have time to do any of my major projects for the day before heading out to the Pesto Party. So I ate breakfast, read a little bit of my newest book club book - The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks - and started a loaf of bread in the bread machine.

Michael decided to go to the Pesto Party with me, so we headed out to the CSA together, working on a New York Times crossword puzzle on the way. While they have had "come hang out at the farm" events in the past, we have not been able to make any of them. So it was the first time we saw the actual farm, rather than the shed where we pick up our share each week. We picked two ice cream pails full of pesto on the farm, with one of their "worker share" employees. (You can work four hours a week on the farm and get paid with a full-sized share, plus all the extras you want. I may do it next year, depending on what life looks like then.) Then we proceeded to make pesto with a bunch of other members of our CSA. We were instructed to bring a recipe, and all the ingredients we would need, except basil and garlic. They provided the food processors.

I brought a recipe that I discovered and enjoyed last year. At first I could not remember where I had found it, but then I checked Diary of a Locavore because it seemed like the kind of thing she'd write about. Elspeth posted this recipe last summer. (Let's just ignore the fact that I was probably interested in particular recipe, as opposed to so many of the others she posts, because I was excited to see her talking about her upcoming wedding - since I also had wedding on the brain last summer.) I think I made pesto mostly because I had extra basil from the farmers' market and wasn't sure what to do with it. I made a small batch, half of which I froze and enjoyed sometime last winter. Today Michael and I made three batches of her recipe. I froze two containers, and we dug into the third for dinner.


Washing the basil and picking the leaves off the stems.
Freshest Pesto Ever! (We did all of the work outside, so the pesto was literally warm to the touch when I packed it into the containers.)

When we got home, the bread was almost done and the house smelled delicious.
I had taken chicken legs out of the big freezer for dinner (thereby destroying any sort of order that was in the freezer, since they were the first thing I put in it when we got it and I have been haphazardly layering things on top of the package of legs since then) but realized they would still be frozen at dinner time, so I rearranged our dinner menu again. (The original plan was grass-fed beef stew with carrots, onions, and potatoes from our CSA but this plan occurred to me on Saturday morning at work. After I invited my parents to dinner and asked Michael to take the roast out of the freezer I realized it was already Saturday morning - not Friday, as I must have been thinking - and there was no way the roast would be ready to put in the crock pot this morning.)

We ended up having tomato pie for dinner, and the last zucchini in the fridge.
(We had our first tomato pie of the summer earlier this week:
I didn't have much cheese, but there were a few tomatoes that really wanted to be eaten. I'd planned to make tomato pie the week before, but never got around to it - because I stopped by the farmers' market in search of a cantaloupe.)

My tomato pie recipe is my own unique creation, so I'll share:
(Some day I am really going to make a real pie crust, since I am the proud owner of a rolling pin and all. But I must have had a hunch, on my way to buy a cantaloupe at the farmers' market last week, that I would really appreciate having a Pillsbury pie crust in my fridge, so I bought a box. Then I bought canning tomatoes and you know the rest of the story. I could have made my own crust this week, but the rectangular red box was still in my fridge, making me feel guilty for caving to the processed food empire. It was easiest to just get rid of the darn things.)

Bake a pie crust, according to your directions. (I baked mine at 425 for 12 minutes according to the package.)
While your crust is in the oven, slice some tomatoes. I used six Roma tomatoes today. Earlier this week I used four random tomatoes that were sitting on my counter. One was a canner that wasn't quite ripe last week. Two were Romas, and I honestly don't even know what the other was. You can blanch them and peel the skins off if you want, but it's not necessary, and I think it makes them much harder to slice. Sprinkle them with salt and let them drain while the crust is in the oven. (Draining them longer is always a good thing, if you have time.)
Shred some cheese. I usually use between one and three cups. The original recipe my mom used called for Gruyere cheese - which is yummy but pricey. I have used Swiss, mozzarella, muenster (pictured), and Farmer cheese (also pictured). Using a blend is best. If you have some good Parmesan cheese, sprinkle a little on top. (I used all of ours making pesto earlier.)

I didn't take pictures, but I also sliced up a small onion and minced two small cloves of garlic. If you have fresh basil, that is always a yummy addition. Today I used our freshly-made pesto. I spread a thin layer over the bottom of the pie crust after I took it out of the oven and let it cool a little bit.

Then I put a layer of veggies, followed by a layer of cheese. Repeat the layers until you run out of ingredients. When I was short on cheese earlier in the week, I only used one layer and it was fine. I like to put the cheese on top. But if you are in a rush and can't drain the tomatoes before putting them in the pie crust, put them on top of the cheese so some of the moisture can evaporate. Sprinkle a little bit of freshly ground pepper on top.

Bake at 350 for about 30 minutes or until brown and bubbly on top. Let cool for at least 5 minutes before serving. Seriously. If you can keep it around long enough, it is also good served at room temperature.
While I have definitely been enjoying my zucchini harvest, it does take up a lot of space in the fridge, and I'm not sure we need another loaf of frozen zucchini bread. Fortunately, Michael and I both really like sauteed zucchini. Usually we eat it as our whole meal, but tonight it was a side dish. I like feta on mine, but didn't have any, so I copied Michael and covered it in farmers' cheese. Okay, so I might have gone overboard with cheese on this dish - I got a little carried away while shredding the cheese for the pie.
My last raw zucchini. (For a few hours, anyway.)
Yum.

Oliver loves to stand near me while I am chopping/shredding zucchini. I think it is his favorite vegetable, and I always drop some on the floor - usually accidentally. Today I also dropped a piece of cucumber on the floor around the same time, while I was getting the pickles ready, but he was completely uninterested.

Here he is waiting for me to drop some of my dinner:
While Oliver was discovering that he's not interested in cucumbers, the other two zucchinis that had been occupying the bottom shelf of my fridge were happily bubbling away in the oven, as Mock Apple Cobbler. I got the recipe from our CSA and had to try it. I admit, I was a little bit nervous at first. But I decided to go for it. The worst thing that could happen would be the loss of some flour and sugar. I couldn't really count the zucchini as a loss, as there is plenty more in the garden.
As it turns out, we really like mock apple cobbler. If you didn't know it was made with zucchini, I think you'd believe that the filling was apple. I passed the recipe along to my next door neighbor.

While dinner and dessert were in the works, I was also working on another batch of pickles - this time I actually canned them. I had gotten a recipe off of the internet, but it worried me because it called for six large cucumbers and two large onions. I have to be honest, folks: I really dislike pickle recipes that call for a number of vegetables. Who's to say that my idea of a "large" cucumber is the same as the author's? A lot of the pickle recipes I've looked at call for numbers of cucumbers, and many of them don't even give a ballpark figure as to how many pints/quarts the recipe will make. Very annoying. Consequently, since I had the Ball Blue Book Guide to Preserving that my mom bought for my dad and me sitting in my kitchen (my dad brought it up when we canned the tomato sauce), I looked for their recipe for Bread and Butter pickles. It called for four pounds of cucumbers and two pounds of onions - and estimated the yield at 7 pints. Now we're talking.

I only had six usable pint jars, but I wasn't too worried.
I sliced the cucumbers and onions, layered them with salt, and let them sit for an hour and a half, covered with ice.
I got my canning supplies in order, and started cooking the vinegar, sugar, and spices.
When the liquid boiled, I added the cucumbers and onions and waited for the fun to begin:
I actually did the whole canning thing myself, except Michael took a few pictures, and he got me a cloth to wipe off the jars.

The picture that I have of the six finished jars shows one jar not sealed, but since I started writing this blog, the lid popped. So apparently my first attempt at canning on my own was successful. But the recipe says to wait 4 to 6 weeks to try the pickles, so they can attain their optimum flavor.

I'd say it was a good day in the kitchen.
Oliver wants to know when he gets more zucchini.

Saturday, June 26, 2010

Honeymoon








While we were planning our wedding, Michael suggested that he take charge of planning the honeymoon - and that the whole thing be a surprise for me. I decided to take him up on the offer - planning the wedding was hectic enough, and travel plans tend to stress me out.

He kept me posted about the dates of our trip, but everything else was top-secret. A few months ago I started worrying about our trip - did we need passports? His was expired, and mine would be by the time our trip rolled around (June 16). Were we going to leave the country? If we were going on a cruise, would we need passports for that? Was there enough time to get new passports before June? (This is why he was planning the trip.)

I decided to bring up the passport issue with Michael, because I really didn't want to be stressed out about a trip I had no control over. He decided that we would go to the travel agent and have passport pictures taken, then send off the paperwork just in case we needed them. Even if our trip was to Waupun, we would probably want passports sometime in the future.

Filling out the paperwork was a little bit stressful, because the US Government wants to know the dates of the trip you have planned (no problem) and your destination (big problem for me). Michael filled that part of my form out for me.

Our passports arrived in plenty of time, and I put mine in the safe, with Michael's, and tried to put the whole thing out of my mind.

Not knowing drove me a little bit crazy (what should I pack? How did I know whether we could babysit on the day after we got back - I had no idea whether we'd be jet-lagged or totally relaxed from a week at the spa!) but it was exciting not to know too.

About a week before we left, I made a list of what to pack - including swimsuits (I had to ask Michael if we were going somewhere that would provide towels or whether we should bring our own) and a fleece jacket. Previously, all Michael told me was that I'd need something to dress up in. (That, and we were not going mountain climbing so I could leave the carabiners at home.) I showed him my list, and he approved it, which wasn't all that surprising because there was a little bit of everything on the list! (Later, I asked Karen for packing advice too. She approved my list after Michael told her where we were going.)

Finally, the day of our departure arrived. I had four books in my carry-on bag (assuming we were going to be going in an airplane) because I had no idea whether we'd be speeding from one activity to the next, or hanging out at the beach all week. (Michael said there was a beach available and we could spend as much or as little time there as I wanted. Of course, I had no idea what else there would be to do, which made the beach comment fairly unhelpful.) One of my greatest fears was that I'd be stuck without a book to read. (I got through two of the books I brought, and got halfway through a third.) My top two guesses about our destination were Door County and a cruise.



We dropped Oliver off at the kennel on the north end of town, and Michael headed down Hwy 51 towards I-39. To go north on I-39, he just needed to stay in the right lane on 51. To go south, he needed to be in the left lane. He kept joking that we were going to Wausau (which would be north) but at the very last second, he swerved into the left lane, and we headed south on 39. I was grinning, because I can't remember the last time I was in a car and had no idea where I was going. Can you?

As we approached Hwy 51, I wondered if we would be heading to the Dane County airport. Sure enough, Michael got in the right hand lane and exited. He said we were going somewhere I'd never been before, but I wasn't sure if he knew I'd taken that road to get to the airport before . . . and then he turned into a gas station. He asked if I wanted anything. Food Rule # 57 "Don't get your fuel from the same place your car does." Food Rule # 19 "If it came from a plant, eat it; if it was made in a plant, don't." Food Rule #16 "Buy your snacks at the farmers' market" Food Rule #2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 - don't eat stuff with high fructose corn syrup or unpronounceable ingredients. (From Michael Pollan's _Food Rules_) No, I didn't want anything. Except I was thirsty. I generally don't like to buy bottled water, because the plastic is bad for the environment, and it is ridiculous to spend a bunch of money on water . . . but what if I was going to be in the car for several more hours? On the other hand, I sure didn't want to buy a bottle of water if I was just going to have to throw it out in the airport in a few minutes . . . finally, Michael suggested I just go ahead and buy a bottle of water, and he'd help me drink it if necessary.

Michael went around the back of the gas station, and wound around, keeping me on the edge of my seat. . . and then turned back towards the interstate. I didn't completely rule out the Madison airport, because there are other ways to get there (although by this point I pretty much had ruled out Door County) but I was starting to focus on other destinations (like Janesville).

We passed Madison without any fanfare, and soon we were headed into Illinois . . . and stayed with 90 instead of continuing south on 39, so we probably weren't headed to St. Louis . . . soon enough, we started seeing signs for O'Hare, and Michael got in the lane marked "O'Hare." (We also passed signs for I-80 towards Joliet, and I had to text Karen to tell her that, phew, we did not seem to be headed to prison for our honeymoon - much to Brian's disappointment.)

Suddenly, the O'Hare exit was upon us, and Michael switched lanes! Apparently we weren't headed to the airport after all. At this point Michael agreed that no, we were not going to the airport. (Which was okay with me at this point because it was getting late - around 3:00 - and I was sort of getting worried - if we were going to fly somewhere, and we go to the airport an hour or two before our flight, and if our flight were longer than an hour or two, we were going to be getting there pretty late . . .)

Michael took the next exit, and asked me to help him look for the Radisson. I should know to trust my husband by this point. He'd booked a room for the night. In the morning, the mystery would start all over again!

Our "honeymoon suite" turned out to be a regular room with a king sized bed, but the room was clean and there were complimentary bottles of water for us, so we were satisfied. While we were checking in, Michael confirmed the arrangements to leave our car at the hotel for the trip. The lady behind the desk wanted to know if our flight (I pretended not to hear) was going to be international or domestic. Michael paused for a moment, and I walked to the other side of the lobby so they could talk in private. (Later, Michael told me he never answered the question, because she didn't actually have to know - she just wanted to tell him how to catch a shuttle back to the hotel from the terminal, so she told him how do do either.)

Shortly after we arrived, we headed back to the car - Michael said he'd made a dinner reservation, and then let me guess where we were going. How on earth was I supposed to know? Was it a chain? We'd had a nice dinner in Orlando at TGI Fridays 2 years ago . . . maybe that was it. We both love Ruby Tuesday's, but only get to go on rare occasions (Seeing TSO in Milwaukee, or while visiting our relatives in the -apolises). The other restaurants that are significant to us were kind of far away at that point (Ruby's in Madison, and La Tolteca in Portage) so we probably weren't headed there . . .

Then it occurred to me that we had enjoyed an awesome sushi dinner in Chicago during a Scrabble tournament in 2008. I suggested this to Michael, then immediately took it back, because while I don't know a lot about Chicago's geography, I figured that we were nowhere near that restaurant. But then I remembered asking Michael about a mysterious email from the director of that particular Scrabble tournament the other day . . . and Michael confirmed that we were going to Kansaku.

We ate way too much sushi, but it was a wonderful dinner!


At some point, Michael informed me, somewhat tentatively, that we would need to leave the hotel *very* early the next morning. Like 4:00 early. So we watched America's Got Talent and went to sleep early.

Michael was too excited to sleep much, but I slept pretty soundly. Not knowing has its advantages! We got on the airport shuttle (not a big surprise at this point) and headed for USA3000, which I had never heard of . . . but the driver took us to the international terminal (after dropping four soldiers off on their way home to Nebraska). . . so I guessed Indianapolis was out as a honeymoon destination . . .

Michael and I checked in together, but I held back while he confirmed the destination of our flight with at the counter. He had my passport, so I just waited until it was time for the moment of truth - and breathed a sigh of relief when my checked luggage turned out to have about 4 pounds to spare. (Michael's only had 2 or 3 - we had thought mine was heavier so I loaded him down with stuff like my beach towel and my gardening hat . . . which I was not certain I'd actually need . . .)

Our flight seemed to be the only one in the international terminal at the unholy hour of 4:30 in the morning. I wasn't sure how much time we had, so I declined breakfast at Miss Nonalds (McDonalds) outside of the security check-in, mostly for timing reasons, but also because one of the books in my carry-on bag was Fast Food Nation. And then there are all of Mr. Pollan's rules . . . #20 "It's not food if it arrived through the window of your car" and #21 "It's not food if it's called by the same name in every language. (Think Big Mack, Cheetos, or Pringles.) Not that I thought my chances of finding real food were any better on the other side of security, but still . . .

Annoyingly, all of the restaurants on the far side of security were closed, although a woman was opening a stand with trail mix, sandwiches, and soft drinks. We went to the gate first, just to make sure everything was in order. (I behaved myself and didn't peek at the computer monitors announcing upcoming departures, and we chose seats with our backs to the gate, so I couldn't see where we were going.)

We ended up visiting the food stand for a vanilla frappuccino (which certainly breaks at least three rules that I can think of off the top of my head) a yogurt, and a bag of trail mix (slightly better choices). Then we waited. I had suggested to Michael that we not sit by any young children, because they would likely be talking about the upcoming trip. We sat for at least an hour without anyone mentioning our destination, but suddenly a large group of very late passengers arrived (the people sitting behind us had been stressing out about the group's whereabouts for at least half an hour) with several young kids. They ate donuts with their aunt and before we knew it, the adults started asking the kids about Mexico. The first time could have been random but after the next two or three mentions of Mexico, I figured it must be our destination.

Amazingly, the airline employees made at least two announcements over the loud speaker for our flight - mentioning the flight number but not its destination. I couldn't decide whether I wanted them to page Passenger X for Flight 305 to Our Destination or not, but they didn't, so what could I do?

Finally, it was time to board . . . and they announced that our flight was going to Cancun.

Here are a few pictures of the trip :) (I apologize for the goofy spacing.)

One of the pools at our resort.


Some shots of our room - we had two balconies, one of which had a jacuzzi.



Me with my awesome honeymoon planner :)

The view from our jacuzzi balcony.



Special "Luna del Miel" fruit tray.


Yummy food!






Silly pictures.


Fun entertainment.



Wildlife!



The Caribbean Sea!





Side trip to Chichen Itza on the Summer Solstice.


The sun rose between the two columns of pillars several hours before we arrived - that only happens twice a year.


(it was probably over 100 degrees, according to our tour guide . . . I was glad I brought my hat after all!)


The trip included a buffet lunch and entertainment.

In addition to man-made wonders, there were many natural wonders at Chichen Itza including a 200 year old tree, and a famous cenote, or sink-hole.



We had a wonderful trip. The best part was the company, but the second-best part is a tie between an amazing destination and not having to worry about the details myself!