New Year's Eve

After the excited rush and colorful bustle leading up to Christmas, the final week of the year is a dull stretch. Once all the presents have been opened and the holiday feast is over, a disappointment sets in. Suddenly all the best cookies are gone, the greens are looking dry and tired, and we all just want the new year to begin already. There is a weariness palpable in the people in this last week, as if these days were the last days of a punishment. It has reminded me of how winter can feel for the gardener sometimes, like something to be endured with a resigned sigh.

As the year fritters down to it's last hours I usually give some thought to how the year has been, what has happened that I'm proud of and what I'd like to avoid repeating. In the next couple weeks I'll begin doing the same thing for the garden as the new catalogues with all their lovely temptations slip into my mailbox. But for the moment, it is time to relax, reflect and savor the year that has been.

Happy New Year!

The White Carrot

A cousin to the carrot, parsnips are a vegetable that is often overlooked by gardeners and chefs alike. They are as easy to grow as carrots, only needing some extra time in the ground to get a good frost to sweeten them up. I planted my seeds in the summer along with the carrots and have left them in the safety of the vegetable bed, pulling up a half dozen good sized ones every week or so for dinner. It is a shame the sweet and earthy savor of this root is enjoyed by so few. They can be a little heavy on the calories, but that may have something to do with them being so delicious with a blanket of butter and cream. They tend to be very bulbous on top tapering to long and thin which can make it challenging to cut them into uniform size for cooking.

Parsnips with cream

6-8 parsnips
1/2 cup chicken stock or water
1-2 T Butter
1-2 T Cream
salt and pepper to taste

Peel and chop parsnips into approximately 2" lengths. In a pot over medium high heat, place parsnips the stock or water. Bring to a boil then reduce heat, cover and and let simmer for about 10 minutes or until tender when pierced with a fork. Drain off liquid. Add butter, cream, salt and pepper then return to a very low heat for a minute or two just to warm the cream. Stir and serve with well flavored meat,
poultry or fish.

An Apple a Day

One day, I'd like to live in the country and have a vegetable garden bigger than the two modest 4' x 4' raised beds and long, thin asparagus bed that I now tend in our little suburban yard. This future garden will be big enough to grow all the things that won't fit now, the space hogs, the sprawling vines and all those things I'd like to try because I've never tried to grow them before. Somewhere by the garden an orchard will fan out over a hill, lines of fruit trees that turn to a blizzard of white and pink in the spring. I will have apples.

Apples are fruits that speak of autumn, heaping baskets of greens, golds, and reds capture the colors of the trees as they turn and hold them for us to contemplate through the winter. Apple cider is a distillation of the crisp and snap of chilly days. Also a comfort from the cold, heated and spiced cider warms you on a bitter night like nothing else, except perhaps for a roaring fire, a soft, thick blanket and a couple cats.

In the fall and winter I usually eat an apple a day. This year I'm spending time getting to know apples and other fruits and vegetables that I know of but never come across in the supermarket. Apples are in high season at the farmers market. Early in the season, I tried a couple Ginger Gold apples, a pale yellow skin blanketed a spicy and delicately sweet fruit. They only appeared for a week or two and as soon as I tried them, they were gone.

Winesap, Honeycrisp, Pink Lady and Stayman apples are some I've recently sampled. This week I plan on trying some Mutsu apples, their bright green skins reminding me of tart Granny Smiths. Granny Smith apples are my favorites to use when baking and my favorite treat to make I stumbled on years ago in The German Cookbook: A Complete Guide to Mastering Authentic German Cooking by Mimi Sheraton. Using Pumpernickel bread crumbs adds a heavenly richness to the tang of the apples.

Apple and Black Bread Pudding

For making crumbs out of a moist and chewy bread, toast and cool 6 to 8 slices of pumpernickel then run through a food processor using the chopping blade until you get fine crumbs.

1/2 cup raisins
4 T dark rum
1 1/2 cups pumpernickel bread crumbs
3/4 cup sugar
1 tsp cinnamon
6 T butter (4 T melted butter & 2 T butter to dot top)
4 or 5 tart cooking apples
1/2 cup chopped pecans or walnuts (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 1 1/2 quart souffle or pudding dish. Soak raisins in rum for about 20 minutes. Peel, core and slice apples lengthwise, making slices about 1/4" thick. Mix breadcrumbs with sugar and cinnamon, then sprinkle with rum that has been drained off raisins and melted butter. Stir well, adding a couple drops of water if necessary to make a mixture as moist as wet sand.

Place about a third of the breadcrumb mixture in greased baking dish, followed by half of the apples. Sprinkle with half the raisins and nuts if you are using them. Add another layer of breadcrumbs, apples, raisins and nuts, topping with everything with the remaining crumbs. Dot well with butter. Bake about 30 minutes or until apples are tender and crumb topping is crisp and brown.

Enjoy warm with vanilla ice cream. Makes a stunning side for roast pork.

The Groaning Board

Another Thanksgiving, the great American feast, has come and gone again. Last year we got together with friends, each bringing a dish to a scenic house in the woods with a roaring fire. This year we had a nice little one at home, a turkey roasted with herbs fresh from the garden. My garden isn't large enough to provide much more than herbs and carrots for the table on turkey day. I have to visit the greater garden of the farmer's market and even the grocery store. Now that the leftovers are stored and dishes washed I have some time to share a few of my thoughts from this last week about feasting and what it has meant to humans through the ages.

The myth of the first Thanksgiving is as deeply ingrained in our culture as the myth surrounding those colonists who found their way to Plymouth, Massachusetts. For the pilgrims a day of thanksgiving meant giving thanks to god, usually through fasting and prayer, only rarely followed by a feast. After the colonies of New England grew, public holidays or days of thanksgiving were declared in honor of battle victories, those back home across the sea and those won against Native Americans. What is often taken as the first thanksgiving was part of a period of peaceful gestures by one tribe of Native Americans seeking an alliance with the early settlers, sharing food in the spirit of peace and a demonstration of goodwill towards new friends. It is an ancient action full of grace and hope, symbolic of bringing together new members of a family by sharing a meal. This generous spirit is what we tend to focus on today when we gather around a heaped and groaning table in late November.

But our modern Thanksgiving is more than a modest and symbolic meal, the volume of food on the table and the late fall timing always make me think of pagan harvest festivals. I think of other feasts too; the rugged Greeks in Homer's Odyssey, slaughtering beeves and offering wine to the gods, the Romans lounging in great halls around tables of decadence, and kings and queens feasting in drafty castles on boar taken from the surrounding forest. There are thousands more, feasts going back further than literature and known history.

Here we are in the twenty-first century gorging on turkey then digesting all afternoon in front of an enormous television, still gathered together for the feast.

Sage Advice

Now that we've finally had a good frost, the garden is looking a little barren. The root vegetables are still safe, sleeping in their dark beds until called in for supper. All those tender green shoots that had been lingering have suddenly withered and shriveled, wiped out overnight by the hard hand of a killing frost. What remains is a sobering scene, dried husks and brown twiggy masses that will remain until spring. Luckily there are still a few survivors, wisps of green which may endure the winter, the hardier herbs: savory, rosemary, thyme, chives and sage.


Herbs are one of my most satisfying gardening experiences. Most common herbs hail from the Mediterranean and will flourish in poor soil and a harsh, dry climate, making them fantastically easy to grow. Most do not grow very large and take well to growing in pots and window boxes. Salvia Officinalis or common sage has a rich history as a culinary and medicinal herb. A must to grow in the cook's garden, its distinctive flavor pairs exceptionally well with fatty meats and poultry. Purple, gold and tricolor sage varieties can make a colorful mix in the garden, but do not vary much in taste. We use sage when grilling pork chops in the summer, but late fall and winter is when sage really takes the main stage in the kitchen. A handful of sage and thyme stuffed in turkey or chicken before roasting makes a deliciously simple center of a meal. Musky sage bunches can add savor to any cut of pork and are essential to sausage. What would Thanksgiving stuffing be without sage?

I love stuffing! Here's one of my takes on a classic:

Cranberry Potato Bread Stuffing

1 Pkg. (12oz.)
Martin's Famous Potatobred Soft Stuffing Cubes (or other bread cubes)
2 T Butter
1-2 cups hot chicken broth
1 cup dried cranberries
1 large yellow onion, chopped (1 1/4c)
4-6 celery stalks, chopped (1 1/4c)
2 tsp fresh sage (1 tsp dried)
1 tsp fresh thyme (1/2 tsp dried)
1 tsp salt (kosher if possible)
1/2 tsp pepper (freshly ground is best)

Soak dried cranberries in 1 cup hot chicken broth for about 15 minutes (while you chop the onions, celery and herbs). Melt butter in a large skillet. Saute onions and celery until translucent and tender, not brown. Add herbs, seasonings, cranberries and soaking broth. Stir, then add bread cubes. You may need a little more broth to moisten bread cubes. Stir over medium heat until well mixed. Let cool before stuffing, will fill a 10-12lb turkey.

Add a second cup of broth for a moist dressing to bake separately in a buttered casserole dish, 350 degrees for 20-30 minutes or until the top begins to brown.

The Amber Light of Trees

The leaves have been spectacular the last two weeks, startling golds and crimsons waving in perfect blue afternoons. Even on the dull, rainy days like today some trees are still smoldering in the dim light. Fall is a season of changes, like any other season, but somehow more dramatic -a final flash and flare before winter sets in.

It's a quiet time for the garden. Time to tidy up the excesses of the summer, fix that hole in the fence, move some bulbs and get everything ready for a little rest before the Spring. Time to gather thoughts and take notes for next year. Only the parsnips remain in my vegetable garden, waiting for a good frost to bring out their sweetness.

Time to bake again, after months of fresh, cool foods and avoiding the heat of oven and stove. The markets are filled with ruddy pyramids of apples and the wonderfully quirky shapes of winter squash. It is time again for heady spices to warm the house on a chilly evening. There is a delicate and fleeting perfection in this time of year. The anticipation of Thanksgiving and holidays to come is not yet tainted by reality, all the pressures and disappointments of those holidays. Oh, what joy, to come back from a long walk in brisk wood to a cozy house full of baking smells and the warmth of family and friends.

The Root of the Matter

Carrots are one of the easiest vegetables to grow. In my area, between zone 6 & 7 on the east coast, you can sow seeds any time from April to August. They don't need a lot of space and can be grown in containers on a patio or deck. Diseases usually don't bother them and pests are few and far between. My crop of carrots this year even survived the bunnies who found a hole in the fence and ate most everything else I tried to grow. Carrots are a little picky about the soil, since heavy soil and objects such as rocks will make them forked and crooked, but are otherwise trouble free. If you give them nice fine soil, a little organic fertilizer and remember to water them when it's dry, you'll be rewarded in 1-2 months with bunches of hardy orange deliciousness. This year I left them in the ground for a bit longer than you are supposed to, just harvesting them last week. Some of them are overly bulbous and squat, perhaps a trait of the Danvers variety that I grew.

Now that I've harvested them, what do I do with all of them? My husband eyes me a little warily when I bring heaps of freshly pulled veggies from the garden. He's said that it's like living with an Iron Chef, suddenly, it's 'battle carrot' tonight! I'm not an Iron Chef, far from it, but I am enthusiastic about every harvest. Perhaps my relish is a wee bit over the top, the carrots will keep for months in the fridge. I can't help being excited about these twisted orange roots that I nurtured through the summer and now have roused from their beds.

Out came the recipe books and then came the disappointment. Steamed carrots, glazed carrots, carrot salad and carrot cake were only distinctive alternatives I found. How could this be? The clear, earthy flavor of the carrot adds essential character to soups and the backbone to most respectable sauces. They are a member of that 'holy trinity' in cooking, in collaboration with onions and celery, one of the three major aromatic vegetables. You must have carrots to cook!

The carrot itself appears to have limited use in the kitchen on it's own. We can't cook without it, but their rustic flavor leaves carrots off most menus except in some standard roles. In restaurants I usually see a pairing of carrots with a lovely green counterpoint, like peas or broccoli. Roast meats will sometimes be graced with baby carrots, often large carrots trimmed down to baby size. Last night I made honey glazed carrots, slightly varying from a recipe found in The Tabasco Cookbook. The Tabasco in this recipe, as in many of the excellent recipes in this book, adds just a suggestion of pepper heat. Here are the leftovers:

Honey Glazed Carrots

1lb carrots, peeled & thinly sliced
1/4c golden raisins
2T butter
3T honey
1T fresh lemon juice
1/4tsp ginger
1/4tsp Tabasco
1/4c sliced almonds (optional)

Preheat oven to 375F.

In medium saucepan, cook carrots in 1/2 inch of boiling water, covered, over medium heat for 8 minutes. Drain carrots then turn into a 1 Quart baking dish. Stir in raisin, butter, honey, lemon juice, ginger and Tabasco. Bake, uncovered, for 25 to 30 minutes; stir occasionally until the carrots are glazed. Spoon into serving bowl. Sprinkle with almonds, if desired.

Here's a link: http://www.tabasco.com/taste_tent/recipes/recipe.cfm?id=116&catid=8&name=Honeyed_Carrots for the original.