Morsels

Actually, I’m not a lumberjack - not even close (well I do have a nice collection of flannels as well as heels so maybe I’m closer than I think). Point is, this is the song son C the younger was singing as HE put on his flannel and boots on his way over to our neighbor’s house to do some chores for him. We are in Finger Lakes and everyone is getting wood for the winter fires. I walked over to visit him at some point with IPod headphones and a coke and he was splitting and stacking wood. Hours later, he and Dennis returned feeling that sense of satisfaction only a nicely split and stacked log will give you. Turns out C is actually quite the log splitter, which only surprised me because of the activity itself. It’s been a bit of a challenge to get him interested in the sort of outdoors/wood work that this place affords. But he is perfectly happy working really hard at home on his skateboarding or playing basketball — he knows the enjoyment of physical exertion. And he knows that Metallica can help any strenuous activity (or so he claims, but it seems reasonable if you are a fifteen year old boy).

We had Chicken Marbella for dinner, that famous, easy and great recipe from The Silver Palate cookbook. It’s really the only recipe from that book that has survived for me — but it is a keeper.

Since it’s been so long since I have posted I have all these thoughts saved up. Trick is, to get them out faster and more frequently, I know. I actually changed laptops — gone back to a PC and have been experience FEAR OF THE NEW. I miss my MAC but it just wasn’t practical for my office environment. And I used PC’s for so long that once I got through the fact that my computer wasn’t as “cool” looking as my Mac, I find the navigation, etc to be second nature. BUT the point is that I have wanted to write about this conundrum that I have been rolling around for some weeks now.

The other day (ok week) I was having a business lunch with a group of wonderful women, one of whom is a new mother who also happens to work for me at cleveland.com.  We were discussing food and cooking and she allowed as how she fed her son chicken fingers (you see why I am keeping her anonymous?) There was much exclamation and concern and advice. One of the women goes to Costco every few months, buys chicken breasts, salmon, etc and packages them up into meal proportions, freezes them and pops them out for her weekly meals. They all plan and shop for the week on Sundays.

But it occurred to me that there are many women who don’t know how to plan and cook for the week and beyond that, if you add the desire to eat like a locavore, eat responsibly and healthily AND cheaply — it gets pretty daunting if you haven’t had a certain amount of background in that kind of cooking. It is actually not that hard to do but it is very hard to explain because there is so much that goes into it.  I read somewhere recently someone who suddenly realized that she could save a LOT of money not by shopping around a recipe but shopping for what is in season and on sale, THEN creating meals around that. Well, duh. But to actually learn that and then do it when someone tells you to plan your meals on Sunday and cook some of them or else you and your family are going to turn into chicken nuggets with legs? Another story.

I suppose the only thing I can do is try and impart what I know — and to be fair, it is all passed down from my mother who learned how to cook this way by being a poor wife of a poor graduate student in France in the 60’s (how romantic does THAT sound?) and then cooking for our family on a faculty salary in the middle of the natural food revolution and then on a farm.

By the way, I know there are plenty of people who know how to do this and are doing it — but it is that time-crazed, suburban, urban working mother who is most in need of this and the least likely to know how to tackle it.

A co-worker spent $1000 on tires this weekend and I applauded her contribution to the economy. It’s come to this when the most prosaic of expenditures has to be applauded? Another is taking her daughter to Paris for Spring Break (tickets are only $600-ish RT PP). Now that’s more like it!

Seriously, this is all pretty unnerving but in someways almost a relief. I hadn’t really the courage to say that until the thought was validated by another friend with a high-power media job in NYC. She’s facing the crunch and is afraid she won’t be able to afford the education she wanted for her young children but underneath it all she confessed a relief and as she said it, I felt that wash over me as well. Yes, there is fear — we don’t know where this is going after all. But there’s also a sense that the past decade has been irrational and pressured. Whether you succumbed to the “need” for the latest bag or jacket, or since this is a blog ostensibly about food, the most expensive EVOO you can find, those images and expectations surrounded you anyway. Maybe if you didn’t buy into all that, you felt a little inadequate or defensive. Now, my friend pointed out, those of us who are naturally frugal feel like the new normal. Cheap is the new black — or something like that.

And, as I took stock this weekend of all that is in my freezer (I have been squirelling food away for months now), I remembered days gone by when we were sent down to the chest freezer in the basement to find some random cut of meat from Steaks 75 (we named our cows by their ear tags so as not to get too attached) and the chill blains on my fingers, my feet waving wildly in the air as I dove deep into the freezer’s frosty depths. We raised food, we bought on sale, we ate left-overs. That was what we did. And it is comforting to return to that.

I’ve taken a trick of my very financially responsible sister and just pull cash now to go food shopping. It works. And it doesn’t stop me from buying a lovely raw milk bleu from Auvergne at Whole Foods. It just stops me from also buying something from every aisle I wander down (and somewhere deep inside feeling pretty unsatisfied with the exorbitance of all that).

Last night, I made Marcella Hazan’s Pan-roasted chicken and saved a bit to the side. Tonight, we had the left-overs stirred with pesto sauce, peas and penne, with a bit to spare for lunch later in the week. Thank you Delbert (it was one of his chickens). Poor Delbert lost his mother last week. She was 58 and was the mother of twelve. This was the poem they read at her funeral.

God hath not promised

Skies always blue,

Flower-strewn pathways

All our lives though.

God hath not promised

Sun without rain,

Joy without sorrow,

Peace without pain.

But God hath promised

Strength for the day,

Rest for the labor,

Light for the way.

Grace for the trials,

Help from above,

Unfailing sympathy

Undying love….

Whatever you think “god” is — there’s something to take from this. Peace out.

Got a biggish chicken from Delbert this week at the market and it’s Sunday so naturally one’s thoughts turn to a nice roast chicken. Unfortunately, one’s thoughts also turn to making cookies, banana muffins with the week’s neglected specimens and soup for tuesday. Well… it has not been the most relaxing afternoon at all. My poor feet are throbbing and yes, the chicken is roasting away happily but the kitchen is messy  and I am feeling as if monday is way too close. Dennis always thinks that sundays are for easy cooking while I think that the afternoon hours stretch out for me and there will be time enough. And as if that planned activity weren’t enough, I decided that I would make a chicken from my Cafe Beaujolais cookbook. It is called Chicken Stuffed Under the Skin. It is based on a recipe from Richard Olney’s Simple French Food. Both recipes call for pulling out the breastbone and then stuffing the chicken but I took the easy road and just slid my hand under the skin all the way down the breast and the legs and then put the stuffing in. Olney’s stuffing recipe is made with ricotta and fresh herbs, Margaret Fox’s (the chef from Cafe Beaujolais) is richer, featuring cream cheese and grated vegetables. Her recipe calls for quickly sauteeing a melange of vegetables, draining them to reduce the liquids, mixing that with the cream cheese and then refrigerating the whole for an hour. Unfortunately, I did not read that until 15 minutes before I had to put the chicken into the oven. So, the stuffing was goopier than it is supposed to be but I have to say it certainly seemed as if it would be very very good. I put both recipes on one page for time’s sake — NOW I am being efficient? When it is almost eight and we are all hungry and no one is complaining (thank you!)? I am serving the chicken alongside roasted potatoes and squash.

As for the cookies? I decided last week that it would be more economical and nicer to make dough and freeze it into little pre-made cookie dough balls so that when Christopher-Who-Is-Not-Afraid-of-the-Oven comes home from school, he can make himself a few. Now there are three dozen incipient cookies in the freezer. I never got to the banana muffins and they (the bananas) are lazing about the counter looking very close to no-good. Sigh.

The basil is gone, the tomato lady won’t be coming anymore. I really wish I had learned her name. She has the most beautiful stand of all at the market — bunches of sunflowers and other cut flowers, an array of mixed baskets of heirloom tomatoes, heirloom cucumbers, tiny baby eggplants. She told me that they harvested 20,000 pounds of tomatoes this summer. Pretty impressive. I am sorry that I only ingested about three of those pounds all told, what with being away so many Saturdays. I am going to have to trek into Canandaigua on Saturday mornings next summer I think, for those weekends when we are up in the Finger Lakes.

There was plenty of hilarity at Delbert Yoder’s stand. I’ve never seen him with more than his sidekick, Dave up there but this time around there were probably about 4-5 young amish men, all looking gleeful as they listened to a customer discuss something with them. I edged closer and Delbert saw me.

Eliza! how are you? Then, nodding to the gentleman who was causing such a stir — “have you met the Professor”

“Can’t say that I have.”

And now, the professor turned his straw-hatted head to me. He was wearing one of those straw hats the amish men all wear — only he was clearly not amish. He bent his head to me and thrust out his hand.

“Pleased to meet you. Would you like to know next year’s weather?”

This sent the amish fellows into gales of laughter.

“I’m not sure if I would,” I answered.

“Oh, no harm.” Here… and he rustled through a stack of papers neatly clipped to a plain brown clipboard. And handed me a paper that tells me among other things that we will have a White Christmas. Here is December’s weather:

12/08 1-3 cold and dry; 4-7 fair, then wet Illinois through Ohio; 8-11, heavy snow for Wisconsin, Michigan; 12-15, fair and turning colder; 16-19, becoming wet, especially Great Lakes; 20=23, fair and pleasant; 24-27 heavy snow spreads through the Great Lakes; 28-31, fair skies, followed by increasing clouds.

I didn’t get to ask him what his source of knowledge was because he was busy asking me if I knew anyone named Margaret and I said yes so he gave me an information sheet on his grandmother whose name was Margaret and how she came to be named Podgie or something. “Knowledge is power,” he said.

More happy laughter from behind Delbert’s stand. I just read through Delbert’s weekly newsletter and learned that they are young friends of his who are raising produce of their own and excited to see a market of the North Union Market’s size. I gather they may apply for a permit for next year. Nice to have an explanation for the crowd of happy fellas.

Meanwhile, in a true sign that summer is over, I signed up for Delbert’s winter delivery. Seasons are so fleeting.

And so that I don’t get caught in a muddle this week trying to get dinner on the table, I am making a variation of Judy Rogers Chicken Bouillabaise from the Zuni Cafe cookbook as well as layered Vegetarian Enchilada casserole from a cookbook called Horn of the Moon == recipes from a vegetarian restaurant in Montpelier, Vt.

I was going to end this post here but just have to add a bit of a footnote. The Horn of the Moon was run by Ginny Callan and then sold in the 90’s. I was casting about for an update and found this sad story which says that the cafe closed in 2000 after its then owner committed suicide.  All the more reason to buy this nice little cookbook — it has some recipes in it that have been standbys for me.

Some days ago, The New York Times ran a piece about the Finger Lakes which was a culinary tour of some typical fare to be found throughout the region.  The author writes about the fact that the Finger Lakes are experiencing a sort of culinary renaissance. Not having been there long enough, I cannot tell if what I’ve found throughout the region tell a story of improved access to more sophisticated fare — though I have to say that the restaurant we ate at several weeks ago, Dano’s, was certainly wonderful and not typical fare at all.

This NYT writer though was all about Buffalo chicken wings and yummy ice cream. What can I say? She is a travel writer. But the real quest turned out to be for Cornell Chicken, a BBQ recipe invented by Cornell professor, Robert Baker (dubbed the Thomas Edison of poultry) who was intent on making people eat more chicken. In fact, apparently he invented the chicken nugget and didn’t patent it.

I’ve been wanting a fire pit for myself up at our Finger Lakes House. So, the happy mix of this NYT piece, a recipe I found on the web for the marinade, a helpful brother and our handy-dandy Razor and a husband who promised when we got said Razor that it would be very useful for things like hauling cinder blocks out of the woods and stumps and etc…all made for a very productive afternoon of firepit building.

The marinade couldn’t be simpler and it is really delicious.

And in the spirit of my newfound commitment to left-overs, I picked the chicken several days later and cooked the meat with a couple of tablespoons of olive oil, some fresh minced garlic, several handfuls of fresh cherry tomatoes and some minced parsley and lemon thyme. I think I added a bit of lemon juice as well because the chicken was nice and sharp from the vinegar marinade and the citrus lifted that taste as well. I served that with penne pasta.

Tonight I am in Maine as I mentioned earlier. Kate and I tooled around all afternoon popping in and out of shops, ending our tour at the Glidden Point Oyster Farm where I got 3 dozen oysters. Dad has to shuck them tonight which is making him crabby. Oh well….they will be a nice end to a really nice afternoon with my best friend.

It has been too hot here (as I hear it is on the coast of Maine, where mom and dad are; Pittsburgh, where my brother is; Cleveland, where Arthur is). So, I have been slow. Heat and I do not do well together. I would much, much rather be braving the cold, my layers and scarves and I working it together.

It has also been too humid. I think Dennis said 80% humidity. On the way home from town, you could see the humidity cloying to the hills. And here, a bit cooler, but still the air was thick. I sat on the front porch and read a terrific graphic novel called Blankets.

I really couldn’t put it down. The boys (all three of them, Christopher, his friend Stuart and my Dennis) were out shooting at targets in the woods. So there was the occasional POP POP POP and the rustle of a robin in the nearby tree eating a red berry. Then the rain came. First as a cooler wind, then its own rat a tat on the roof and finally, the water on the pond woke up. Pocked and alive. So Chloe-dog and I walked into it. And I was back in my maine summers where the warm rain was a wonderful romp. Now, of course, if it rains I am on my way to work or between meetings and there are nice shoes and dresses to contend with. Not to mention the hair. But today, the rain was a way to cool off and the dog and I ran into it, taking shelter under the trees when it got too fierce, walking by the pond when it lightened a bit. I saw a tiny frog sitting on a lily pad. He didn’t mind the rain at all. And, naturally, neither did we.

Here’s what we had for dinner tonight: Chicken Marbella (from the ubiquitous and enlightening 80’s cookbook, The Silver Palate) and a green bean and tomato salad with fried shallots and Lundberg mixed wild rice blend. The chicken was an old and really good standby that I used to make for crowds back in the day. The salad is an adaptation of one I found on a Portland, Maine blog called Speakeasy. More rain in the form of storms and a cooling trend tonight. I can’t wait.