Tantre farm share, week 16 (plus a bunch of interlopers)

When you have recently returned from a camping trip, fresh food is really irresistible. That's part of the reason that I got a little greedy today at the market and supplemented my farm share with some interlopers.

The far left side of the table contains the interlopers (from bottom to top): Zingerman's Paesano bread, a huge eggplant, 3 peaches, a head of lettuce, a quart of raspberries, a pound of Roo's Roast and a bottle of Greek olive oil from Sparrow market.
The rest of the table is taken over by the farm share (roughly left to right): big bag of green beans, bunch of tatsoi, carrots, insane quantity of basil, daikon radishes, big cipollini onion, cherry tomatoes, regular tomatoes, potatoes, bunch of thyme, red peppers and Italian kale.

I'm really not going to have trouble putting this week's share away. Vegetables taste so damn good after a week of mostly dehydrated stuff! (But it was worth the culinary sacrifice for the wealth of amphibian life the girl critter was able to find).

So, here's what the menu plan is for the week:

• You can't get a better time for my favorite eggplant salad--eggplant, red peppers, cherry tomatoes, mint and feta perfection.
• For lunch, the daikon greens will get sauteed with garlic and lemon and heaped on top of slabs of the paesano bread and drizzled with the grassy Greek olive oil.
• Tomorrow's dinner will be bi bim bop with: tatsoi, daikon, carrots, and a few green beans with bulgoki beef and kim chi (a couple of people have asked me for a recipe, which is probably a little more formal than what you'd call what I make, but I'll try to document the basic preparation and assemblage.)
• On the weekend, I'm thinking grilled steak and grilled tomatoes with basil sauce--sort of like pesto but a little less pasty--with roasted potatoes *Update* Noelle posted a beautiful looking herbed potato salad that I'll try instead; now I won't have to turn on the oven at all!
• I already made (and consumed two pieces of) this raspberry tart. (Hey, raspberries get moldy really quickly so I had to take action...)
• They aren't long beans, but some of the green beans should adapt well enough to this SE Asian long bean salad treatment. I haven't figured out what to serve with it--maybe it's time to remember how to make pad thai again.
• I'll probably make the kale into this salad. Meagan made it once for book group and it was terrific and I think it would make a great lunch with more of that paesano bread.
• and finally, more pesto for freezing in ice cube trays.

A few more ideas

Last week my book group met again to enjoy each others' company, eat and drink well and discuss a lovely book. I had already read Tobias Wolfe's Old School (and blogged about it here), but was happy to read it again.

Actually, this time I didn't read it so much as listened to the book on CD while driving out to MA (while the critters were plugged into the portable DVD player with endless episodes of Pee-Wee's Playhouse). This time, I was laughing out loud at the telling of the Cow-Sci-Fi story that Ayn Rand chose as the winner of the school writing contest. The critters even pulled off their earphones and wanted to know what was so funny at which point in time I spluttered an incomprehensible summary which they promptly tuned out.

I still think this is a lovely book and the reader, Dan Cashman, did a fine job.

We accompanied our brisk discussion with food that felt like a celebration of the season.

Beverage and book (and Meg's elegant table)--ahhhh.

I brought a pitcher of peach basil sangria made with basil from the back deck and Red Haven peaches from the Farmer's Market. It was lovely, and the little pieces of peach bobbing in the glass soaked up the alcohol so they were like little boozy bombs when you got down to the bottom of the glass.

To keep us from getting too tipsy on them, I also made some eggplant caviar to go with sliced baguette. (It would be an excellent way to use up this week's farm share, come to think of it.)

I love eggplant caviar (recipe below) and don't remember to make it often enough--I usually just go the baba ganoush route but this dip/spread is more delicately flavored and really brings out the floral tones that eggplant can be convinced to release when treated with a slow roasting.

Then we moved from the front yard to the table and enjoyed Marilyn's beautifully composed salad with nasturtium blossoms, roasted beets and shaved Parmesan.

Our main course was broiled trout with basil sauce--a perfect homage to the Hemingway hero-worship by the boys in the book.
It was served with a corn flan that Ami made which was airy and sweet, and Jen brought an asparagus, roasted red pepper vegetable side dish.

Sarah and the mostaccioli

Then we wrapped it all up with Sarah's intense Chocolate Hazelnut Spiced Cookies (recipe here). One of our members is heading off to Germany for a year on sabbatical and while we're all a little envious, we will miss her greatly (and are maybe trying to figure out how to finance a visit...). She also has the strongest sweet tooth of the bunch of us so Sarah's cookies were a fine send off: nutty, spicy, chewy and most of all, Chocolate.

Eggplant Caviar
This makes a lot so you can easily cut the recipe in half.

2 large eggplants (globe type) or equivalent number of smaller ones
6 cloves of garlic, peeled and cut lengthwise into slivers
juice of 1 lemon
1/4 C olive oil
1 T soy sauce
salt and pepper to taste
1 small tomato, chopped
1/2 of a red pepper, chopped
1/2 C chopped basil leaves
1/4 C chopped flat leaf parsley leaves
1/3 C toasted pine nuts
1/3 C dried currants or golden raisins

preheat oven to 400.

Slice the eggplants in half lengthwise. Cut long slits in the flesh and stuff with the garlic slices. Place cut side down on an oiled baking sheet and cook for at least 1/2 hour or until collapsed. The remove and set aside to cool a bit.

In the serving bowl mix together the lemon juice, olive oil, soy sauce, salt and pepper. Then take the cooled eggplants and scoop out the flesh from the skins (along with the garlic) onto a cutting board. Chop coarsely then dump in the bowl with the dressing and mash with a fork.

Stir in the rest of the ingredients and taste for seasoning (you might want to add a dash of red wine vinegar if you like it a bit sharper). Refrigerate after making--it's good to make it a little in advance to let the flavors meld.

Serve with sliced baguette or as a spread on sandwiches.

Tantre farm share, week 14

Bottom row: Asian greens, two small bunches of chard, 3 yellow summer squash, 4 red torpedo onions, bunch of purple carrots, 6 big heirloom tomatoes, wee bunch of dill
Middle: 1 qt fingerling potatoes, eggplant, red peppers, assorted beets, 1 pt cherry and grape tomatoes
Top (looming over it all): a tremendous quantity of basil

Menu/preserving plan (We're headed out of town for part of the week so what doesn't fit into our dinner plans will get put into things that can be prepared and frozen. Beets and potatoes are going to be set aside since they won't rot right away):

• All that basil will be made into pesto for freezing in ice cube trays.
• The Asian greens will get sauteed with garlic, ginger and tofu. Add some rice and frozen dumplings and that's dinner!
• I'll make a small batch of ratatouille with the eggplant, tomato, and summer squash (I like the Cook's Illustrated recipe) and will probably freeze that too.
• I'm thinking that this recipe for swiss chard with anchovy butter would be good with a red quinoa salad that uses up some tomatoes and red onions.
• The cherry tomatoes will be made into a tart with puff pastry, dry jack cheese and some mustard, probably based on this recipe. Since I'll have the oven on already I'll also roast the purple carrots and toss them with some dill and a little lemon juice.
• Any leftover tomatoes that aren't consumed with a drizzle of balsamic, olive oil and a little fleur de sel will probably just get hacked up and frozen.

Letting go

I'm really good at mad. But I'm not going to do mad right now.

I'm referring to this infuriating information: that until 12 months ago SIGG, which promoted itself as a safe alternative to Nalgene (and other plastic) bottles that contained the endocrine disruptor BPA, was actually lining their bottles with an epoxy that contained, you guessed it, BPA! They have changed the liner on new SIGGs (and were very quiet not to mention the BPA problem until the stock of the old BPA containing bottles were sold) and will give people who return their old SIGGs coupons for replacement bottles. But the whole shebang reeks of corporate coverup. The blogger Sarah Gilbert did a very nice job of detailing the sliminess--if you have the stomach to read it. (There's also a well-explained post from a store that pulled SIGGs.)

A parent on the wonderfully informative yahoo group list arborparents posted about this and another told me she received a postage paid return label. So I wrote to SIGG and asked for one because I don't want to spend a nickel more and they refused. Then I wrote to the CEO and mentioned that I knew they had issued postage paid return labels and would he authorize one.

He refused.

The CEO told me that he and his kids still drink out of the bottles with the BPA-containing liner (though he neglected to mention that his family also has gills...joking!). He offered me cleaning tablets (because I don't know how to wash out a water bottle? Huh? Or maybe it's something specially formulated to block the BPAs....) which probably would cost more than the return shipping I was requesting.

Clearly I have lived too long in a town where customer service and happiness is taken seriously. So ZingTrain, if you have anyone free to give a seminar, I know of a company that could really use your services! Or maybe the CEO, Steve Wasik, should read this book:
Yes, the title is Satisfied Customers Tell Three Friends, Angry Customers Tell 3000. You, dear reader, are one of my 3000.

All this crummy corporate bullshit is upsetting enough but here's the worst part: I was so pissed when I was receiving and responding to their e-mails that, when my girl critter wandered into my office requesting a cup of grape juice (which, she knows, is not hiding under mom's desk but located in the fridge; however, since I keep it in a heavy non-BPA leaching Frigoverre glass pitcher, she still needs me to pour it), I snapped at her. Actually I yelled. I was so pissed at SIGG that my shoulders were up around my ears and I looked like Nixon and I dare say I behaved like him too (treating those around me like crap, not the break-in part). And the little critter jumped. And that's just not right. (I went and apologized to her and told her that I wasn't mad at her, I was mad at the crummy company that made her dinosaur water bottle. She doesn't appear to be too traumatized by her mother's inability to compartmentalize her anger though I probably should add a few extra dollars to her college/therapy fund).

And that's when I realized that Steve and his crummy company were not worth it. Not worth the anger. Not worth pursuing a free shipping label on principle even though it means that someone sleazy is getting away with something.

So you know what? I'm going to try and breathe my way through this.

In one of my yoga classes, the teacher got us to assume a pose like a pretzel--I had trouble figuring out how my left arm was twisted around my right leg and how exactly I was able to see the sole of my left foot which normally isn't so close to my eyes but finally got into the pose. And once there she said: "Keep breathing. Remember if you can breathe through this pose you can breathe through pretty much anything that life throws at you." So. This isn't so bad. I can breathe through this.

So now I am turning to you folks for advice. To say that the water I drink from any SIGG will taste bitter now is an understatement. I refuse to have these bottles in my family's life any more. It just makes me too flipping mad when I see them and I don't think I want quite that much practice breathing.

I'll eat the postage to get these things out of the house and to make the company pay out for new ones because that's the only way to reach these people--through their wallets. But what should I do with the replacements since I can't stand the sight of them? (Hello Klean Kanteen! You'll be getting our business soon!) It'll be a set of 4 different sized bottles ranging from .4 L to .75 L.

I was thinking maybe I could donate the new ones somewhere. My kids' former preschool has an annual fundraising auction. Do you think anyone would buy a set of 4 new water bottles at an auction? That way at least the money I originally spent (over $50 agggggh!) would actually work its way to a good cause.

Any other ideas? Help me make this letting go as painless as it can be. Send me your suggestions. Send me your peaceful thoughts to help me forgive icky people for their ickyness.
And breathe with me.
In--
And out.
In--
And out.

Summer

We're back from our trip out to MA to visit my sister and the critters and I are now suffering from Aunty Anna, assorted amphibian and Basenji withdrawal.

Look at that sweet boy. I didn't mind one bit that he was blocking my book and I'm usually kind of grouchy when my book is blocked.

We've had an active and interesting summer up until last week, but the days we spent with Anna felt like the way summer is supposed to be--very relaxed, very hot, very fun. Maybe she was planning up a storm in the background, but I certainly wasn't and it felt like we flowed from one thing to the next: swimming and frog catching at Potter's Pond, eating cumin and yogurt marinated tofu and carrot salad, appreciating the air conditioner after a 94 degree day with 98 percent humidity, getting invited along to visit Anna's friend Rosie's magical family and swimming with a hoard of her nieces and nephews, jumping on a trampoline, and eating ice cream cones that dripped down our arms before we could finish them.
I'm pretty sure that this is what summer is all about.

Tantre farm share, week 12 (and 1 interloper)

Bottom-ish row, left to right: Red Haven peaches (interloper), 7 ears of corn, 2 qts beans, 3 cucumbers basil, red onions.
Top-ish row: 2 qts potatoes, carrots, snow leopard honeydew melon, 3 tomatoes, big bag of broccoli crowns, beets (no greens), 8 summer squash, 2 heads of lettuce, chives

• Tonight we're having an all-American dinner: grilled chicken drumsticks, potato salad with chives, corn on the cob, tarragon cucumber pickles and peach pie.
• Some form of corn soup--either corn potato basil chowder or Tammy's lovely sounding silky corn soup (see the comments for the recipe) which I might try chilled, depending on the whether it is stinking hot or not; served with the broccoli/chick pea/red onion salad I made a couple of weeks ago and loved.
• 1 tomato will go into a potato-summer squash gratin: I'll use the mandoline to slice the potatoes and squash paper thin and then layer them with the tomatoes and some cheddar and chives. It'll be loosely based on the goat cheese-potato-summer squash gratin I made couple of weeks ago and loved.
• The other two tomatoes will go into salads with the lettuce, cucumbers, carrots, beets, feta and some blanched green beans.

The menu is brief this week because on Friday I'm going to have to go through what is left and either blanch and freeze it, or give it away. I'm leaving on Saturday to take the critters to visit my sister in Massachusetts so this means that next week I'll miss out on the bounty. My parents will be picking up and consuming my share which should be a bit of a (hopefully fun) shock to their cooking habits!

Whew

Just a quick note: Thanks for the words of support about the writing block/crisis of confidence. I really appreciated hearing from people about their experiences. I think it is one of the big benefits of the internet to make this incredibly isolated endeavor something that can be shared.

And the good news is that on this stinky hot and humid day, I've got the critters at camp, the AC on, and I've managed to pick my writer self up off the ground, dust off my keister and get back to writing. It isn't flowing like the magical day a few weeks ago, but it is moving and I feel a direction and shape and purpose.

Whew.

Down at the mouth

Two weekends ago, I sat down at my computer at 11 am and didn't leave it (except for quick snacks and bathroom breaks) until 5:30 pm.*

And when I left the computer at 5:30 I went for a walk -- no, correct that -- I was so giddy about my wonderful day of writing that I went for a float.

Not only did I produce probably a whole chapter's worth of new material, but I had confidence in what I had already written--I saw the shape of the book, even the parts that I have only vaguely sketched out, and I felt all I needed was the time (say, starting on September 8th when the kids go back to school) in which to fill it all in.

Where did that confidence go? Why am I presently in such a muddle? It's a beautiful day, the critters are behaving themselves, there is no reason to be down at the mouth. But my confidence in my ability to write this book is simply gone. All I've been able to accomplish since that very productive day is some very minor editing.

The only vaguely positive thing I can say is that at least in reading what I've written, I wasn't tempted to delete it--I thought it was pretty good. But right now it feels like a different person wrote it.
__________
*Brian took the critters away overnight to do some choo choo stuff so I had no interruptions or distractions of a human nature.

Tantre farm share, week 11 (plus 2 interlopers)

Vaguely left to right and bottom to top: basil, Roos Roast (interloper #1), eggs from Amos Coblentz (interloper #2), peppermint, 1 pt mixed cherry tomatoes, garlic, 2 qts potatoes, 1 qt mixed green and wax beans, Italian kale, melon, 4 eggplants, 2 heads of lettuce, broccoli, 4 cucumbers, onions, beets, lots of summer squash, carrots. Much easier to see in the pic with notes here.

This week's menu plan:

• Thanks to Noelle and her mention of a wonderful sounding Vietnamese cook book, Into the Vietnamese Kitchen by Andrea Nguyen (which I promptly requested from the library), tonight we'll have rice topped with fried tofu, Vietnamese deep fried eggplant, nuoc cham, and cucumber-red onion-cilantro salad.
• On the night I have my yoga class we'll have a salad night of totally mashed together cuisines (Alsatian, vaguely Greek, sort of Japanese and French-ish) accompanied by wine, crusty bread and a hunk of deliciously stinky Muenster d'Alsace I was gifted: a lettuce, carrot and cucumber salad with tarragon vinaigrette, the rest of the eggplant, tomatoes and mint in a half batch of my favorite eggplant salad and green and wax beans with walnut miso dressing. I know none of these things go together and I don't really care!
• I'm going to try to get some melon into the small people by pureeing it and making it into popsicles (probably with some lime juice and agave nectar or honey). The rest will get eaten at breakfast with granola and plain yogurt.
• Bi bim bop with copious quantities of vegetables will join the beef, egg, rice and kim chi: broccoli, green beans, carrots, cucumber, summer squash.
• Grilled pizza with caramelized onions, roasted beets, pine nuts, olives and goat cheese and accompanied by super thin sliced raw summer squash with shaved Parmesan, salt, olive oil, and basil.
• Brian is planning on smoking some brisket this weekend, so I'll use the potatoes to make some sort of potato salad to go with it. Maybe the kale will get the southern treatment and be braised and doused in hot pepper vinegar. And some cucumbers will get made into quick tarragon pickles.
• Some garlic and basil will go into pesto (to be frozen in ice cube trays for a taste of summer in the depths of winter).

Internal voices

I can't remember the last book I read that relied so heavily on internal voices. John Pipkin has written a remarkable book, Woodsburner, that not only takes on a fascinating little blip of history (the day that Thoreau accidentally set fire to the Concord woods) but that does it through the thoughts of a kaleidoscopic collection of characters. There is very little dialog in the book--it mostly occurs only as the characters remember the past.

All the characters are suffering from some level of crisis whether it be spiritual, ethical, or emotional. Eliot is the excruciatingly bad want-to-be playwright--a man who desperately wants to be perceived as artistic and literary, but who can't appreciate what he has and does well. There is Caleb, a self-righteous guilt-riddled, hellfire-spouting and opium-addicted preacher. Oddmund is probably the most sympathetic character, a humble almost to the point of invisibility immigrant who silently loves his employer's wife. Emma, the rotund recipient of Oddmund's adoration, is a barely literate lover of books. There are a pair of strange old women, Anezka and Zalenka, who bring a touch of magical realism to the proceedings. And of course there is the star of the show: Thoreau.

Because you are inside the character's heads, there isn't much back story--there's no external narrator who brings you up to speed. This results in some really lovely reveals: the characters' pasts come out unexpectedly. There are delicate inferences which help move the book along, crucial for the pacing since without it, the internal nature of the book might get claustrophobic and leaden.

The fire serves as the catalyst and the crisis for each of the characters. It motivates their thoughts and propels their actions. The ending is beautiful and liberating: all the characters have had their trial-by-fire and all come out the other side transformed, liberated, and changed though in very different ways.

I thought the author did particularly well with Thoreau's voice. We follow Thoreau's mind through complicated shifts from desperate panic trying to stop the fire, to justifications and excuses that he comes up with to shift the blame for the fire off of himself, to the exhilarating pleasure that he takes in the force and intensity of nature. It has been a long time since I read Walden but I remember a bit of these shifts--methodical accounting, lyrical enjoyment of nature and underneath, some justification sneaking in ("I didn't ask my neighbors to feed me a nice dinner so I don't really have to incorporate it into my narrative of simplicity and living off the land"). Pipkin doesn't come right out and say "the fire led to Walden" but he makes his opinion about the cause and effect nature of the actions clear and well reasoned. It seems almost duplicitous that people teach Walden without this piece of authorial context.

About half-way through, I did think I'd need to start a drinking game where I did a shot every time Oddmund sucked on his tiny dead tooth. That repetition started to drive me a bit batty and I think about half of the instances where the phrase was used could be cut. But that's a tiny quibble with a really remarkable book.