Vert-à-Go

“The frying pan’s too wide…’ –Joni Mitchell, “My Old Man”

I have been posting sporadically lately. In April, my marriage came to an abrupt end and I have spent pretty much the entire time since then dealing with the exquisitely painful unpleasantness that a breakup entails while still trying to go through the necessary forward motions of everyday life with small children.

The final decision came at the end of the entire household’s two-week-long bout with the flu (the worst of my adult life). During the time I was sick, I could barely walk to the kitchen, let alone cook anything. We survived for a week on ginger ale and crackers, soup from the freezer and a cardboard box, poached eggs on toast, grilled cheese sandwiches, and later, takeout Vietnamese noodles. Anything in the fridge pre-dating the flu began to quietly turn on us while we all lay there inert–the neglected vegetables in the crisper, the chocolate milk, the leftovers from our final dinner party.

I didn’t really cook for quite some weeks after the morning of Thursday, April the 9th. There didn’t seem to be an awful lot of point, as I couldn’t bring myself to eat anything anyway. The kids were content enough for the time being with their rather monotonous rotation of 5-minute meals punctuated with fruit and cucumber and yoghurt and baby pita breads, while I ate a cracker here and there and rapidly lost the weight put on last autumn while I was sick with a succession of colds and heartaches. Reluctantly, having been anti-vitamin my entire life, I embarked on an annoying new regime of supplements to boost my decrepit immune system. I can’t tell you what a depressing moment it was to learn that my drastically depleted iron stores would simply never recover just with food alone. Even if I wanted food, it couldn’t help me now.

It wasn’t just that I didn’t have an appetite, however. Along with the music I couldn’t listen to anymore, the movies I couldn’t watch, and the photographs I couldn’t look at it, there were suddenly a huge number of meals and foods that were now off-limits because of the memories they stirred. Seventeen years together, just short of 14 years married–well over 3000 meals shared together. No more. I couldn’t yet contemplate a future of special meals cooked alone and eaten alone after the kids were in bed. I took curry off the menu indefinitely, threw the brown sauce into the garbage and shoved the tiger prawns to the back of the freezer.

Even when I managed to start cooking properly again, the reminders continued unabated. The everyday placemats that were a wedding present had to go. I grimly started separating the dishes: the bowl given by my mother-in-law, the tray made by his friend, the birthday wine glasses and carafe from my parents. Cookbooks were pulled from their cosy alphabetical home and piled into two teetering stacks. His, Nigella Lawson, Gary Rhodes. Hers, Nigel Slater, Mark Bittman. I had almost forgotten how cooking used to be a shared pleasure and how many kitchen items we had given to each other over the years–the pots and pans, the pestle and mortar, the new mixer, the beautiful big salad bowls. Who would take what? Who would start new? Could either of us manage to divorce the memory contained in these much-loved familiar objects and happily go on using them like nothing had ever happened?

I rearranged our table seating so that the empty chair wouldn’t be so obvious, but I still couldn’t seem to prise myself away from the square certainty of number four. I had made and eaten plenty of meals on my own with the kids over the years, but soon realised that there must be a deeper psychological reason for why after 20-odd years in the kitchen, I was suddenly incapable of figuring out how much food to cook for three people. The cold unwanted spaghetti pointed its long thin fingers at me accusingly as I tipped it into the compost hours later. Legions of leftovers lingered long past their welcome. I realised anew that the base amount for most recipes seems to be four people and despaired over the questions, “How do you split an egg in half?”* and “What if two is not enough and four is too many?”

Not quite six weeks later, I’m (mostly) eating and cooking again. I’ve even slowly cleaned out the fridge of the rotten two-month-old reminders of meals gone past. I expect that it will be some time yet before I’m fully up to speed with the new status quo in the kitchen and the table. In the meantime, I’m taking an enjoyably selfish pleasure in eating what I want when I want, and am mainly concentrating on making food to keep us well, make us happy, and create new memories (like my mom’s waffles, which we had this weekend). We’re also all eagerly awaiting the warmer weather that will let us finally get out in the garden and start growing something of our own to eat again. Spring is here, even if it doesn’t feel like it quite yet.

My mother’s waffles

• 2 cups flour (I like to use half whole wheat)
• 1Tb baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 Tb sugar
• 2 eggs (separated)
• 1-2/3 cups milk
• 6Tb vegetable oil

Mix egg yolks and milk–add dry ingredients–add vegetable oil–then stiffly beaten egg whites.

Serve with syrup, berries, jam, and vanilla ice cream. Personally, I like a bit of bacon on the side. You may think this is rather weird, but hopefully we can agree to disagree.

Serves 4–or a family of 3 with leftovers. Who doesn’t like leftovers?

* To split an egg in half, whisk it gently together and divide it that way. If the yolks and whites have to stay separate, just try using the smallest egg that you have. It really probably won’t make that much difference to the final recipe.

I initially described this acorn squash as a leftover, but really it wasn’t, because it had never actually gotten as far as being cooked. It had simply sat in a bowl in the counter for three weeks, staring at me accusingly while I tried to avoid looking at it. That’s what you get for buying something you don’t often buy without having a specific plan for how you’re going to use it!

The other issue with the squash is that I had only bought one of them, which really wasn’t going to go far enough to feed four people in any recipe I already knew, so there it sat. I finally realised that it wasn’t actually going to leap onto the stove itself (although I suppose it might have, if I’d left it another couple weeks). So I turned, as always, to Chef Google. This simple recipe for apple acorn squash soup from BC Tree Fruits* took care of that squash, a few apples that weren’t quite as crisp as they once had been, and part of a huge bunch of parsley that seems to have no end. It also finished off the chicken stock I had in the freezer, which prompted me to make another batch of stock that in turn used up some not-so-crisp celery and more of that never-ending parsley. The crisper drawer is now in much better shape. Only nice fresh vegetables remain and I don’t have to feel a twinge of guilt or apprehension when I open the drawer. A fridge really isn’t any different than the rest of the house–if any part of it gets ridiculously cluttered, then it can become very difficult to concentrate at the task at hand (in this case, cooking).

Food waste really has become a huge issue for me over the past few years, and I’ll soon be starting a series on how to drastically cut down on the amount of food that gets thrown in the (compost, hopefully) bin. In the past it was quite common for me to have to chuck stuff out, but now it’s a pretty rare exception. It’s not that hard to change your habits–some menu planning, inventory-keeping, thoughtful grocery shopping, and liberal use of your good friend Google will all help to get your groceries into your stomach where they belong, rather than the landfill. An estimated 5% of food is thrown out of Canadian fridges–at least–on a regular basis. In Britain, it’s about 1/3rd and in the US, estimates are as high as 40%. I can’t see why Canada’s level of waste would be much different. Cutting back on this unnecessary waste is the easiest way to reduce our consumption and ease the demand for food production, not to mention reduce the significant methane gas emissions caused by decomposing organic matter in landfills while saving you some significant money on your food bills too.

As Alex Renton wrote in the Observer a few weeks ago, there would be no need for GM crops if supermarkets and consumers weren’t so wasteful. The first and easiest place to start is with a warming winter bowl of soup like the one above!

* Those are walnuts floating on the top. They weren’t about to go bad–I just thought they would taste good, and so they did. Next time I will candy them. Yum. It could easily be made into a vegetarian soup by substituting vegetable stock.

First two photos by Danny Pederson-Bradbury

Today is the first day of the Lunar New Year (also known as Chinese New Year, although it is also celebrated in parts or all of Vietnam, Korea, Tibet, and Mongolia). I started marking this holiday about a decade ago because a) the winters are very long here in Saskatchewan, and any extra excuse to do something special in January/February seems like a fine plan and b) I love the excuse to cook a big fun special meal for the family.

Those who celebrate this holiday usually have a big feast on New Year’s Eve. It worked out better for us to get together tonight, though, so I got started first thing this morning with the duck that I’d picked up from Pine View Farms on Saturday (that was the morning that it was -47C with the windchill–can you blame us for wanting a party?). After going over the bird and removing the remaining feathers/stems (ducks are notoriously difficult to pluck), I plunged it into a big pot of boiling water for a few minutes, then pulled it out, dried it, and basted it with a honey water mixture. Then I hung it up in the basement and turned the fan on it. It looked weird, but the only way to get a really crispy skin for Peking Duck is to make sure that it’s completely dry before you roast it. I left it to hang for over 5 hours–it’s best to leave it as long as possible, especially considering that you somehow still need to find time to make a whole whack of pancakes to wrap the duck in. I’ve tried a couple different recipes and methods and think there is just no getting round the fact that unless you can find someone to make them for you (or a store–please tell me if you find one that has them, because I’ve searched everywhere!), you’re just going to have to spend 1.5 hours in front of the stove making miniature pancakes if you really want to eat Peking Duck. Which I do, but this is probably why I don’t make it more than once a year.

Pancakes out of the way and covered with a damp cloth, I got started on the pork dumplings. I hadn’t planned on making these and was going to have a simple soup to start instead. But then I read about how it is considered especially good luck to eat jiaozi in Northern China for the New Year–so I threw caution to the winds and added them to the menu too. I didn’t have any wonton wrappers, so ended up making the wrappers from scratch for the first time (I’d actually never made dumplings before either). This was a mildly insane decision, but I followed these nicely detailed and extremely amusing instructions, making the filling out of ground pork (Pine View Farms), ginger, cabbage, and green onion, and rolling out 48 pastry discs (“GO FORTH! MAKE DISCS! TILL YOUR ARMS FALL OFF!”), then filling them, pinching them shut (which locks the luck in, apparently), and steaming them before serving with soy sauce for dipping. They really weren’t hard to make at all, but they just took A. Very. Long. Time. Pre-made wrappers would save time and energy. I would definitely make them again, and would probably even do my own wrappers, but would also put the rest of the family to work to speed things up, assembly-line style.

Back in the 1970s, my mom and grandma took a Chinese cooking class from a friend’s father who shared his yummy recipe for sweet and sour pork (it’s brown, not that scary bright red colour). It has become a family favourite, so I also whipped up a batch of that to go with some side/back ribs from Pine View. This made a lot of meat dishes for one meal, but it also produced a lot of leftovers, so I was able to give some to my grandma so that she wouldn’t have to cook tomorrow. It also meant that I wouldn’t have to cook tomorow, which was good, because by this point, I was starting to get fairly serious kitchen fatigue. I don’t know where the guy in Eat Drink Man Woman found the energy (note: that link is not for the squeamish)!

To go with the rice and spareribs (we ate the two previous dishes as separate courses), I also stirfried a big batch of vegetables in soy sauce, sherry, and sesame oil. Usually I would have done another vegetable dish, but after going all out on the dumplings, I figured we had more than enough food already and could eat salad tomorrow. It’s considered unlucky to cook white food on New Year’s Day (it’s the colour associated with death), so I used green ones instead, including locally-grown pea shoots (and a bit of garlic, shh, don’t tell). I left the pea shoots long because long leafy greens signify long life and are considered lucky too. They were actually quite fun to eat that way; rather like spaghetti, and they tasted just like spring.

The grown-ups drank Tsingtao beer (oops, I forgot to offer the green tea), and for dessert there were baby mandarin oranges (also lucky) and fortune cookies. I had planned to make ox- and goldfish-shaped cookies in honour of the day but simply ran out of time. Rather hilariously, my fortune read, ‘TAKE PAINS TO PREVENT GETTING COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED’. Ok, I won’t cook like that every day, I promise!

Chinese New Year Feast

• Pork dumplings (jiaozi), made with green local cabbage, green onion, ginger
• Peking Duck pancakes, served with green onion and cucumber strips and duck sauce
• Sweet and sour pork ribs
• Stirfried green vegetables (broccoli, organic celery, green onion, pea shoots, garlic)
• plain rice
• Mandarin oranges and fortune cookies
• Tsingtao beer/green tea

Mr Chan’s sweet and sour pork ribs

• about 2 racks (1.5lbs) of pork spare ribs (it’s also nice with chicken wings/drumsticks)
• 1/2 tsp ginger
• 1/2 tsp dry mustard
• 1/4 tsp garlic salt
• 4 tsp cornstarch
• 1 tsp salt
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/3 cup vinegar
• 4Tb dark soy sauce
• 2 cups water

Mix together. Brown ribs, drain off fat and pour sauce over ribs. Bring to a boil and immediately reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 2 hours.

photo by naathas

I went through the fridge today and finally dealt with a weird assortment of things that had been lying there neglected for some time, including:

• a 1L container of partly-cooked pumpkin (about 1 week old)
• about 2 cups of buttermilk (waaaaay past its best-by date–but buttermilk can stay good for weeks. Just make sure it hasn’t permanently separated)
• 1/2 cup of half and half (expiring today)
• 2 links of garlic farmer sausage (1.5 weeks old–I’d bought it fresh at the farmers’ market, so I wasn’t worried about it)
• rather limp-at-the-end green onion (1.5 weeks old)
• some beets, complete with starting-to-wilt greens (1.5 weeks old)

First I took the pumpkin (we had roasted it and used half for soup last week before running out of ambition–a whole pumpkin can be rather overfacing all at once!) and cooked it for about another 10 minutes in the microwave because it was still rather hard. Then I puréed it, getting about 3 cups worth. The purée, along with the buttermilk, was just what I needed for these fabulous and fibre-rich pumpkin chocolate chip muffins (I stuck the other two portions of pumpkin in the freezer for future use):

A most virtuous pumpkin chocolate chip muffin

Dry ingredients (combine in a large bowl)

• 1-1/4 cups whole wheat flour
• 1/2 cup wheat bran
• 3/4 cup ground flaxseed
• 2Tb wheat germ
• 1Tb cinnamon
• 1Tb baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/4 cup chocolate chips (I used Cocoa Camino’s fair trade organic chocolate chips for the first time, which were delicious and completely worth the extra 80 cents)

Wet ingredients (combine in a medium bowl)

• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1 cup pumpkin purée
• 1 cup brown sugar
• 1 egg
• 1/2 cup All Bran Buds cereal

Add the wet ingredients to the dry, stirring until just mixed. Bake at 400F for 20-25 minutes. Keep a close eye on them–I have found 400F to be a little hot for them in my oven and had good results at 375F today for 20 minutes only. You don’t want them to get dried out. My original recipe says that it makes 12, but I today got 12 large ones as well as a full pan of mini-muffins (based on 12, they are 210 calories each, with 6 grams of fat and 8 grams of fibre). I took the mini-muffins out at the 15-minute mark.

Afternoon snack out of the way, I used up the rest of the (shall we say mature?) ingredients in a hearty soup for supper. I combined two different recipes (here and here) to approximate a favourite restaurant dish of mine:

At-home Summa Borscht (because you can’t go to Taunte Maria’s every day)

• 3 cups of 1/2-inch cubed potatoes
• about 4 cups of water (if you had a ham stock or a bone to throw in, that would work well)
• 2 links farmer sausage, casings removed
• 1/2 cup green onion, chopped
• dill to taste (1/4 cup of fresh dill is best, but I used the last of the dried stuff from the garden because that was what I had on hand)
• 1 cup buttermilk
• 1/2 cup half-and-half
• 1 cup chopped beet greens
• salt to taste

Put the potatoes in a large saucepan with the water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until the potatoes are tender. While they are cooking, cook the farmer sausage in a frying pan (break it up with a spoon, but keep it fairly chunky). When the potatoes are ready, stir in the sausage, the green onions, dill, beet greens, and buttermilk. Bring it back to a simmer (until the beet greens are tender–you don’t want them to turn to sludge). Season to taste–depending on the saltiness of the sausage, you may not need to add any salt at all. Stir in the half and half before serving with some lovely bread & butter (and don’t forget the dill pickles!).

Cleaning out the fridge=good food. Go see what you can rescue before it’s too late!

I once read a recipe that suggested using your leftover jack-o-lantern to make pumpkin soup. Well…maybe if you hadn’t already put a lit candle in it for hours on end! I don’t personally think that the wax and soot build-up would be particularly tasty or healthy*, so I toss our old jack-o-lanterns onto the compost pile to decompose. It can be quite amusing to watch them cheerfully moulder away over the next few months (their high water content also helps balance the dry leaves already on the pile). But wouldn’t it be nice for them to have one more blaze of post-Halloween glory before heading off to that great pumpkin patch in the sky?

On Saturday 1 November, bring your old jack-o-lanterns to the Peace Flame in Rotary Park to help create a beautiful pumpkin-lit trail for everyone to enjoy (tealights will be provided). The pumpkins will be hauled away for composting afterward, keeping them out of both the landfill and your guilty conscience–so they definitely won’t come back to haunt you. Nothing scary about that!

The First Annual Pumpkins in the Park Festival

When: Saturday 1 November 2008, 6:30-8:30pm

Where: Rotary Park, Saskatoon, SK (Google Maps)

For more information: call Reta Derksen at 653-2783

Sponsored by the Nutana Community Association

* If you do want to cook a jack-o-lantern after Halloween, you should really draw on the pumpkin rather than actually cutting right into it. Check out these tips on how to cook them and how to put the ‘green’  into Halloween.

When you really want sour cream, there isn’t a whole lot that you can satisfactorily substitute for it–somehow I just don’t want to put plain yoghurt on a burrito or a baked potato. But while it does last for ages in the fridge, I rarely seem to be able use it all up in time simply by plunking it on as a condiment. It’s one of those things that can easily get pushed to the back of the fridge and forgotten about.

My neighbour gave me some perishable food items before she went on holiday a few weeks ago, including a partly-filled tub of sour cream. It only reached its best before date yesterday and was still looking fine, but I couldn’t see the point in putting it back into her fridge as a welcome home gift. Magically, the tub contained precisely 1/2 a cup of sour cream, and I also had small amount of rhubarb on hand that wasn’t really enough to make anything else. And as she was the one who gave me this incredible muffin recipe in the first place, it seemed only fair that she should find a few of them waiting for her upon her return.

Jenny’s rhubarb streusel muffins

• 1/2 cup sour cream
• 1/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1 egg
• 1-1/3 cup flour
• 1 cup diced rhubarb
• 2/3 cup brown sugar
• 1/2  tsp baking soda
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon

Topping: Blend 1/4 cup brown sugar, 1/4 cup chopped nuts, 1/2 tsp cinnamon, 2 tsp butter (melted)

In a small bowl, blend cream, oil, and egg. Set aside. In another bowl, mix flour, rhubarb, sugar, baking soda, and salt. Stir wet ingredients into dry until just moistened. Drop into muffin cups and top with topping. Bake at 350F for 25-30 minutes.

There were peas at the farmers’ market this past Wednesday. I think freshly shelled peas are possibly the most delightful summer vegetable a garden can produce, and one of my biggest garden regrets is that I don’t have enough space or sun to make growing peas worthwhile or even possible. I must make do instead with buying bags of them at the farmers market, and then rushing home to shell them for lunch.

This hot weather seems to call for pasta salad, to which very fresh peas are a delicious addition. Examining the contents of my crisper drawer, I cobbled together a combination of two Martha Stewart recipes–one for a pea and orzo side dish, and the other a pasta salad with feta and snow peas (in itself one of the best pasta salad recipes ever concocted).

Pretty peas pasta salad

• 2 cups orzo (fusilli works great too–try 4 cups or so)
• 2Tb butter
• 1 shallot, minced
• zest of half a lemon
• freshly shelled peas (about 2 cups)
• 1 chopped sweet pepper (I used half red and half green because that’s what I had on hand)
• 2 chopped green onions
• 2Tb chopped fresh mint
• a handful chopped fresh cilantro
• 1 cup crumbled feta cheese (or to taste)–I used goat feta

Dressing:

• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
• 1 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
• salt and pepper to taste

Add orzo to a large pot of boiling salted water and cook until al dente (about 6-8 minutes, but check your package). Drain and set aside. Melt the butter over medium heat and saute the lemon zest and shallot until translucent.

Add the peas and cook until bright green and tender, adding a bit of water if the shallots start to turn brown before peas are tender. Don’t overcook the peas! Better that they’re slightly underdone than overdone. I added the peppers to the pan as well, but it is equally nice if they’re left raw and crunchy.

In a large bowl, combine the peas with the cooked orzo, chopped peppers, green onion, feta, mint, cilantro, and dressing, and toss to combine. Serve at room temperature or chilled.

serves 4

p.s. I don’t think the shallot or lemon zest is absolutely necessary; you could just gently cook the peas in a bit of butter and they would still be lovely. We had leftovers cold the next day over lettuce leaves, with some added hardboiled egg, chopped tomato, and cucumber.

What with the sunshine and bit of rain we’ve had this week, the pots of lettuce that I put in earlier in May are now going completely mad. I’m going to have to start thinning them out (the picture on the right was taken after I deforested one of them for supper). I plan to eat my way through the middle to make space to sow some of my heritage Strela Green lettuce seeds (a ‘very ornamental’ variety dating prior to the 16th century, according to Salt Spring Seeds). This way, I’ll have different lettuces maturing at different times and don’t have to worry about pathetic plant pot syndrome.

Although my gardens are now planted, obviously there isn’t an awful lot coming out of them into the kitchen just yet, apart from the lettuce, chives, and herbs. As fresh and delicious as these things are, they still need to be fleshed out a bit with some other ingredients. But a couple of days ago I discovered a small bag of beets from the farmers’ market that really needed to be used up (they were hiding under another, larger bag of beets). I also still had the rest of the Canadian chevre left over from the tarts I made for the shower a couple weeks ago. A quick google of ‘beets goat cheese’ turned up this amazing salad from Donna at All Recipes, which I adapted slightly (not having any frozen orange juice concentrate to hand). You could proudly serve this as an appetiser at a posh dinner party.

A May-December salad (yes, I know it’s June)

• 4 small beets, quartered
• 3 big tablespoons chopped walnuts
• 1-2Tb maple syrup
• baby salad greens
• goat cheese

Dressing:

• 1Tb balsamic vinegar
• 1/8 cup extra-virgin olive oil
• leftover beet cooking liquid (optional)

Put the beets in a saucepan and cover with water. Bring to a boil and cook until tender, about 20-30 minutes. Drain and cool, then cut in to bite-sized chunks, reserving about 1/4 cup of the cooking liquid.

While the beets are cooking, gently toast the walnuts in a dry skillet, then drizzle over with maple syrup. Stir until evenly coated, then remove from the pan and set aside to cool.

Whisk together the balsamic vinegar and olive oil to make the dressing (I added a generous splash of the beet cooking liquid, but it wouldn’t be necessary).

Divide the greens onto two plates and evenly sprinkle over with the candied walnuts. Place the beets on top, top with crumbled goat cheese, and drizzle over with the dressing (you’ll probably have some left over for another salad tomorrow). Prepare to say ‘wow’!

(serves 2)

I confess that I do struggle against climate dread. Any new news about the environment is very seldom good news, and it is demoralising beyond belief to walk home from the farmers’ market with a bag of locally grown organic food, only to be blown past by someone chucking a McDonald’s wrapper out of the window of their Hummer.

But we can’t sit around and do nothing, even if somewhere out there our evil twin is itching to replace every ounce of carbon that we struggle not to emit. And the food that we choose to eat can make a real and instant difference to our ecological impact. Here are a dozen things you can do right now to radically reduce your food footprint. Most of them will save you money and improve your health, too! I’ll be putting up detailed posts about each item in the series soon.

1. Eat less meat

2. Grow some food to eat this year

3. Eat seasonal, locally-produced food

4. Eat organic food, preferably locally-produced

5. Choose fair trade food products

6. Only eat fish and seafood from safe and sustainable fisheries

8. Reduce your consumption of industrially-produced/processed/fast food

7. Walk, bike, bus or carpool to the store, market, or restaurant

9. Plan your meals ahead and keep track of leftovers to avoid food waste

10. Drink tap water, not bottled water, and don’t forget the carbon/water footprint of other drinks too

11. Compost your food waste

12. Use more energy-efficient ways to cook your food

…and check out Reiko’s Bento Lab–just because I guarantee it will make you smile!