Happy Valentine's Day

Lala and Lalita

Andrew,

Learn what it takes to build a dry stone wall from Dry Stone Walling Association–certificate qualified wallers. Build a free-standing wall by applying four basic principles and employing a few simple techniques. From “founds” to “throughs” to “copes,” each stage in the construction will be explained and demonstrated. Participants will strip out an existing wall, prepare a base, and build up a double-faced wall using native stone. This is a great chance to try something new or fine-tune skills you already have.

The workshop is a two-day event, Sat. April 28th and Sun., Apr. 29th, 2012 and will be held at Stonewell Farm, 39 Beckwith Road in Killingworth, Connecticut. All instruction is on an individual basis. Pre-registration is required, as the workshops fill up quickly and enrollment is limited to 16 participants.

To register, contact:
Michelle Becker, Workshop Administrator
e-mail: mb@mbeckerco.com
Tel. 860-322-0060

Recently, and at the encouragement of the hostess for a Thanksgiving meal, I prepared a leek dish, the recipe for which I was directed to by the hostess at finecooking.com website. Reading it through and looking at the photograph of the completed dish I was struck asunder by the painful and humiliating realization that I was hopelessly out of food trend fashion. What to do? Follow the recipe to the letter and bear the dish to the gathering with the pride of knowing that I was ‘au courant’ in the eyes of the professionals, or, change the recipe, for the sake of my outlandishly old-fashioned tastes regarding palatability, and risk that humiliation? I chose humility. Dental challenges asides, I find raw vegetables delectable when they are really raw, and I truly enjoy cooked vegetables, no matter the method, when they are, in fact, cooked, but I can’t seem to warm to the idea of the hybrids. I feel similarly about pasta.  It’s either cooked or its not. (Of course, there’s overcooked, but that comes under different headings entirely; DIY Home Improvement, subcategory: Wallcovering Adhesive, or Hobby Farm as Chicken Fodder). If I had the time, I would be game to argue about ‘al dente’ until the  proverbial cows come back to their proverbial home, however, with limited time,and patience at a premium, I settle with two categories; cooked or uncooked. Many shades of subtlety pertain but these I leave to professional gastronomes, not churls, like me, who like to judge a dish by its digestibility.

Back to Thanksgiving. I ventured into the garden and dug the leeks. Cleaned them, sliced them into uncouth, miserably out-of-fashion, dowdy, mouth-sized one inch sections, if you can believe it, blanched them (yes, I’m almost ashamed to admit it, I did, and didn’t even bother to plunge them into cold water, which I’m sure a sophisticated professional would do for the sake of the written word, or, at least under the gastronomic auspices of ‘retaining color’), (white!?) and then went on my merry, bombastic way of recipe bastardization by adding more cream than was called for ( by gastronomes and cardiologists combined), adding salt (quelle horreur!) and mincing garlic to such a fine mash as is generally reserved for political debates.

A few, very kind and obviously old-fashioned, friends have asked for the recipe (out of compassion or sympathy, no doubt) and so I include it here. But, be warned! The result is nothing like the culinary standards that are described in the first paragraph. These are more comfort than current; soft, creamy, calorie rich leeks that accompany mashed potatoes and are to be washed down with plenty of good, dry red or white bordeaux.

Leek Casserole (adapted from original recipe called Creamy Baked leeks with Garlic, Thyme and Parmigiano by Susan Middelton)

Ingredients:

1 tsp butter

8-10 medium-large leeks

2 tsps. minced, fresh thyme (dried is a substitute in a similar quantity)

1 1/2 cups heavy cream

1/2 tsp salt

2 large cloves of garlic, finely minced

1/3 – 1/2 cup grated Parmigiano-Reggiano

Directions:

Preheat oven to 350° F. Butter a shallow-ish 10″x15″ casserole dish/baking pan.  Prepare the leeks. Cut most of the green leaves off, leaving about 2 ” of sturdy green at the top. Trim the roots off the bottom. Cut the leeks into 1″ sections and wash thoroughly. I immerse them in cold water in a salad spinner, rinsing and repeating twice with fresh cold water, agitating them with my hands to make sure there’s no dirt….(but our leeks are home grown so maybe not an issue with store bought leeks) and spinning them dry like lettuce.

Parboil the leeks, plunging them into a bath of boiling water for about 1 minute and the drain them, and distribute them into the buttered casserole dish. Sprinkle the thyme over them and toss a bit to distribute the herb evenly.

In a saucepan on the stovetop, heat the cream, garlic,and salt to boiling point. Turn off heat and let sit for 5 minutes. (Personally, I think you could avoid this entire step and just mix up the cream, garlic and salt and pour it over the leeks…that’s what we do with scalloped potatoes and no-one has ever complained). Pour the sauce over the leeks and bake for 35 minutes. Sprinkle the cheese (you could use cheddar or gruyere if you’re out of Parmesan) and turn the heat to broil for a few minutes until the cheese browns.

I realize that this may not be important to non-organic gardeners who purchase their seeds at their local garden center. If the seed doesn’t germinate, they can always go and get a new packet. For gardeners who are concerned about GMO’s (genetically modified seed) and want to use organic seed, or those who want to grow unusual or heirloom varieties, this isn’t a reliable option. If the seed doesn’t germinate, you’ll need to place another mail order and that will involve valuable time (as well as the possibility that your choice has been Sold Out).

I may not store my seeds under optimal conditions (dark and cold) but I come pretty close and I wanted to get to the bottom of this.  I prepared an inventory of the seeds I have, including variety name and date packed (this is 8 pages long). I then did my research and prepared a list of the plants I grow and the length of time, in years, in which the seed will be viable if stored under perfect conditions. Wow! I was shocked to learn how much money I had potentially wasted over the years ordering fresh seed when I had plenty of year old seed in stock. I share the fruits of my labors below:

Garden Seed Viability (in Years)

Artichoke        7yrs     50% germination
Beans            4 yrs    50%
Beets            6 yrs    50%
Broccoli        5 yrs
Broccoli di Raab    5 yrs.
Cabbage
Savoy        4 yrs.
Red        4 yrs.
Pac Choi    5 yrs.
Cantaloupe        5 yrs.
Cardoon        7 yrs.
Carrots            3 yrs.
Cauliflower        5 yrs.
Celery            8 yrs.    50%
Celeriac        8 yrs.    50%
Corn (Sweet)        3 yrs.    50%
Cucumbers        10 yrs
Eggplant        7 yrs    50%
Endive (Witloof)    8 yrs
Fennel (Bulbing)    4 yrs    50%
Kale            4 yrs.
Kohlrabi        4 yrs.
Leeks            3 yrs.    50%
Lettuce        3 yrs.
Melons
Watermelon    6 yrs.
Muskmelon    5 yrs
Mustard Greens    5 yrs.
Okra            5 yrs.    50%
Parsnips        1 yr.
Peas            3 yrs.    50%
Peppers        3 yrs.    50%
Radishes        5 yrs.
Spinach        5 yrs.    50%
Squash
Summer    6 yrs.
Winter        6 yrs.
Swiss Chard?
Beet family    6 yrs.?
Tomatoes        4  10 yrs.
Turnips        5 yrs.

Herb Seed Viability
Basil        5 yrs.
Dill        5 yrs.
Fennel        4 yrs.
Parsley        3 yrs.
Shiso (Perilla)    5 yrs.
Chervil        3 yrs.

So, tonight, running out of ideas, tired of the pressure of entertaining the birds with valuable time, and, in a spirit of effective time management as well as perpetuating the ‘waste-not-want-not’ approach to rural living, I prepared bread pudding for Andrew, with chocolate chips, dried cherries, cinnamon, nutmeg, eggs and skim milk. I also threw a few of the loaves into the freezer for future culinary or avian adventures; croutons, bread crumbs, winter poultry entertainment, etc… (We, ourselves, are not so particular about what we ingest, although we should be). The mystery breadman remains a mystery. He is kind, thoughtful, considerate and generous with his gifts. The birds appreciate the entertainment, and we thank the gentleman for his efforts. I’m hoping that the next time he shows up I will have a nicely prepared bread pudding or a flavorful bag of croutons to offer him.

The “dessert” garden isn’t happening in a vacuum.  We are trialing a number of plants for the USDA. and we’re interested in finding out if these are suitable candidates for broader, commercial cultivation in the State of Connecticut than they presently are. With cuttings provided by the USDA, we have rooted and nurtured 15 currant bushes, all of which are varieties that date as far back as 1850, one gooseberry (most of the gooseberry cuttings failed) and 56 willows ( of which, the latter address an entirely different environmental and artistic objective and a subject on which I’ve previously posted).

Meanwhile, Andrew Pighills, horticulturist , has struck roughly 15 cuttings of ‘vitis vinifera’, grapes from stock provided by the Killingworth Lion’s Club,presumably ‘Marechal”(as I remember). We shall see.

Today was the big event. We brought Mochachina to Falls River for her date with fate. Mr Big, desultory, bored, and perhaps, even, depressed was sharing his throne, a large, broad, smooth rock that juts out of the current, with Mr. Tortoise. Ms. Mocha, traumatized, no doubt, by the forced disenfranchisement from her clan and the fear of the unknown that Falls River is (am I anthropomorphizing? yes, of course), leaped from Andrew’s arms into the drink and paddled off upstream, definitely not in the direction of Mr. Big. Hours went by. Andrew beat a trail upstream through the brush, hugging the riverbank, watching her closely and attempting to cajole her into moving in the other direction. Perched on the bank with a pair of binoculars, I observed, waiting, expecting for Mr. Big to make a move or, at least, show an interest. Nothing doing. We began to really worry. This doesn’t look like its in the cards.

Amazingly, surprisingly, Mochachina paddled towards the center of the river. Clearly Mr. Big could see her. Why is he stone still, or worse, seemingly uninterested? Mocha paddled back to her safe haven, alone, frightened, disenfranchised; 20 minutes passed. Andrew trailed her and more cajoling ensued. What happened next is magic. I don’t know how it happened or what changed but Mochachina boldly swan across the river to make her presence known. Mr. Big had left the rock and ambled up onto the grassy lawn of the “neighbor who feeds him’. Assuming a sort of petrified stance for a long time, he watched her.  She flirted a bit, paddling back and forth and , when that didn’t get his attention in a way that satisfied her, she flew up on the embankment and introduced herself, face to face. They were tentative and awkward with one another. It was strange, but then, Mr. Big started wagging his tail (Muscovies are like dogs in this way, they wag their tails to express satisfaction). Mocha approached and stood near him. We all watched in amazement. Mission accomplished. There will be more to post about this. We will need to see how they get along with one another but Bette, our client, called me to say that Mochachina was comfortably sitting and preening herself, ( a sure sign of feeling safe) six feet behind Mr. Big, where he faced the river in a protective stance. That sounds pretty good to me. May they be well  together. More later.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. It was around Oct. 23rd or so and I’d received confirmation of my rose order. I was exiting the house, walking across the lawn, headed to my studio, Andrew had just returned from somewhere and was approaching me, when it suddenly struck me. Oh dear God! I threw my arms around him, gave him a kiss, and said “Happy 10th Anniversary”! He responded in-kind, but equally shocked, and we both nearly fell down laughing. “When was it?”, he asked. “I don’t know, maybe last week,” I said. Of course, most married couples don’t experience the same ambiguity about their anniversary date but, in our case ,it’s justified. We were married on Oct. 18th, 2001 but we (and I’m using the ‘royal ‘we’ here) forgot to bring the marriage certificate to the church, and so, had to return the next day to have it signed, which, technically, bumps our actual marriage to the 19th of October.

Later that evening, after the belated champagne, I returned, dizzily, to my studio and Andrew to watching BBC news on TV, and checking his email on his smart phone) another volley of emails between Andrew and I ensued. This time, it went like this. “We’ve order six heirloom roses. We get three each. Two each for our birthdays and one each for our anniversary. Here’s the list of what we ordered, You go first. Select your anniversary rose, then I’ll select mine, then you your first birthday rose, then me, …….” Amazingly, our personal selections mirrored our favorite personal choices. More amazing is that I’m writing about it, because, after all, Andrew and I, through thorns and dis-ease, lush, floral display or the disfiguring and disheartening effect of deer predation, we share the same rose garden, and, I beg your pardon, I never expected or even dreamed that I would ever have such a garden to share with such an impeccable man.