Year One in the Garden

I've got a retrospective of my first year gardening over on Medium. Those of you who were interested into my foray should head over and check it out:

My father bit into the first strawberry of the season. He hadn’t even taken it inside to wash; just popped it into his mouth like ballpark peanuts. Seconds later, his face had gone just as red as the not-yet-picked berries on the plant. Before I could run for help, he sucked in a breath and gulped down the air, reaching for another one.

“Damn! Those suckers have a kick to ‘em.”

And that was the year we accidentally cross pollinated habanero peppers and strawberries.

I come from a long line of plant people: fresh tomato snobs and home salsa canners, foodies before foodie was really a word, dating all the way back to the village cheese monger. I have learned a lot of lessons from the garden

But this was my first year on my own.

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Later this week: Pumpkin Dessert, so stay tuned!

Preserving the Bounty: Sauerkraut!!!

I've been meaning to try this project for awhile now, but I admit I have always found it terribly intimidating. Sauerkraut, like spaghetti sauce, has deep roots in my family. I can remember many a childhood day that contained it. Also spaghetti sauce, though, I never ate the stuff in childhood. I referred to it as Sour Crap.

Eventually, I saw the light.

And it's a good thing I did too. Cabbage is crazy good for you. Fermented cabbage? Well, that goes and doubles things, now doesn't it?

So...with extra cabbage in hand, I turned to the source:

Now, you'll notice a few things about this recipe that differ from other instructions. Number one of which is the addition of sugar and vinegar. I have heard that naturally fermented sauerkraut (aka the super healthy stuff) contains neither of these things, only salt. This being my first time making it, using my nonna's recipe was important to me, so I opted to use these ingredients. I may change that in the future depending on my research.

Also my cabbage is weird because it's purple, but this is what we grew in the garden this year. It actually turns out rather nicely, just make sure you have some lemon juice on hand in case your hands or counters get stained.

Sauerkraut is actually easier to make than you think. My mental image of giant tubs of foul smelly cabbage notwithstanding. All you need is a 2 lb cabbage, some salt, and a mason jar.

First, roughly chop the cabbage and sprinkle with salt (and whatever else your person recipe calls for. Some I found use caraway seeds). You won't think it's enough salt, but trust me. Massage the cabbage, working the salt in until it starts to break down.

Continue for another two minutes or so, then firmly pack the cabbage into the mason jar (mine made enough for a quart), pouring any leftover liquid over top. For the next 24 hours, pack down the cabbage (I used a half-pint jar as it fit exactly) and keep in a cool, dry place.

March and the struggle of an empty larder (with a garden to come)

It's April now, officially. But March, as a month, is a rough one for cooking. I was thinking about how uninspired most of my cooking was over the past month coupled with a very bare farmer's market and I began to think a lot about food and surviving a hard winter before it was possible for a person like me to go to the grocery store and pick up bananas.

It's so much harder imagining that sort of life than I like to admit.

I try so hard to eat seasonally. Strawberries are only allowed on my table in early summer. That's why we shop at the farmer's market whenever we can and are working on planting our own garden. For the first time ever, I get to work my own plot of land! No more five pots of sweet peppers hidden on the balcony. It's exciting: starting seedlings, waiting for ground to thaw (another reason I can't imagine having to rely on this garden for my food. This has been a particularly bad winter. We're just seen the ground for the first time since January about a week ago.). Really, the planning has gotten me through this truly uninspired month.

Gardening means a lot to me. 

I can remember my parent's garden and the year they accidentally crossbred strawberries and habanero peppers, creating a very interesting experience. I also remember my nonno's garden in the backyard: mostly made up of fragrant tomatoes for his famous sauce. Incidentally, we a planting a large number of fragrant tomatoes in our own plot this year. I hope to replicate that sauce someday. To make up for all of the terrible years I refused to eat it as a child.

Gardening's in my blood as much as anything.

Mi bisnonna in -her- own garden

Sicilian Stuffed Artichokes

When we came across some artichokes at the market, I was suddenly struck with a memory.

I said, "I'm going to make something really good, I just...have to remember how to make it."

And I tried. I checked the cookbook and was shocked by the lack of recipe (I'm still tagging this with "The Cookbook" because as far as I'm concerned it should be in there). I scoured the internet. I called my madre. All were a little stumped on one detail or another. But eventually we worked out something that I think was just right or close enough. It brought back a slew of memories and was just as divine as I had hoped.

Sicilian Stuffed Artichokes

inspired by a memory of something Bisnonna used to make

[What You Need]

Artichokes

Italian Breadcrumbs

Ground red pepper flakes

Parsley

Oregano

Grated Parmesan cheese

Mozzarella cheese

Tomato sauce

1 egg

[What To Do]

1. Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a baking dish.
2. Steam artichokes briefly using your preferred method. (I cheat and use the microwave method which involves placing the artichokes in a shallow dish of water in the microwave for about five minutes). The artichokes should be tender enough to pull the leaves apart gently.
3. Mix stuffing: breadcrumbs, spices, parmesan cheese, and egg
4. Taking a deep breath and guarding against burning your hands, slowly pry the leaves apart and put stuffing inside. This step has me convinced that Bisnonna could not feel pain from heat (the story of the cannoli molds and no means of removing the shells from them after frying will be related at a later date). Place artichokes in baking dish as you do this.
5. Cover artichokes in tomato sauce to taste. In my memories, Bisnonna flooded them with sauce and sopped it up using bread. I didn't use quite that much and some of my outer leaves were a little dry, so take that as you will.
6. Sprinkle some mozzarella on top.
7. Bake for about 45 minutes to an hour.

The Luckiest Dinner of All: Pork, Sauerkraut, and...Black Eyed Peas?

I was considering holding this one until next year so because the whole point of this recipe is to make it for New Year's Day. Still, I figure by the the time New Year's 2015 rolls around, I'll just have to dredge this post up from the archives (and maybe add some better pictures).  Anyway, without further adieu:

"In the nineteenth century, sauerkraut was a cold-weather food. Sauerkraut with fresh pork was a fall dish. Sauerkraut with turkey was a Christmas dish. And sauerkraut with pork was eaten for good luck on New Year's Day, because, as the [Pennsylvania] Dutch say, "the pig roots forward." Thus rooting forward into the new year, the Dutch ate sauerkraut with salt pork in the late winter, and finally, sauerkraut with fish in early spring."

---Sauerkraut Yankees, William Woys Weaver [University of Pennsylvania Press:Philadelphia] 1983 (p. 176)

Eating Sauerkraut on New Year's Eve is a long-standing tradition in Germany. It is believed that eating Sauerkraut will bring blessings and wealth for the new year. Before the meal, those seated at the table wish each other as much goodness and money as the number of shreds of cabbage in the pot of Sauerkraut. -http://www.germanfoodguide.com/holiday-silvester.cfm 

Growing up the traditional meal in my family (and in my region in general) was pork and sauerkraut. Though I do have German (Alsatian, really, but let's not split hairs yet) and Polish background, this little number is from -all- over in my family. From looking around the internet, it somehow has become a "Midwest" thing, which I find interesting. (Hopefully, I won't ever find myself explaining to people that it didn't start in the Midwest like I have to do annually with pączki.)

I've been making pork and sauerkraut every year on New Year's for as long as I can remember. I'm personally a little superstitious about it. One year, I ate a whole plate of sauerkraut at midnight because the year before had been particularly bad. So it goes without saying that this year I was going to make pork and sauerkraut. I could do it in my sleep too: Salt the pork roast and pop it in the slow cooker with a recipe of sauerkraut (I have yet to make my own, but one day I dream to), a cup of brown sugar, and about an inch of chicken broth.

Usually, the side dishes to this meal are corn and mashed potatoes, two foods I hold dear; however, I didn't make them this year. My boyfriend being a southerner (ish), I went out on a limb and explored another New Year's tradition: Black Eyed Peas. I found a wide variety of reasons for these tasty legumes being lucky all over the internet, but I'm not sure if any one reason was definitive yet. I'll leave the floor open for debate.

There are many delicious Black Eyed Pea recipes. I did mine simply since it was my first go: soaked over night, boiled for 45 minutes and then toasted with hot chilies.

All in all, I think I managed to double my luck for 2014 *knock on wood*. 

Happy belated New Year to all of you!

Apple and Corn Datch

This week we're going to explore a different side of my heritage.

I grew up in Eastern Ohio, the land of the Pennsylvania Dutch. One of my favorite childhood treats (which I have definitely brought into adulthood) revolved around a trip out to a restaurant called Dutch Valley for the breakfast buffet. The memory of this recipe originates there.

"I should make apple fritters," I thought looking over the still massive number of apples left from apple picking.

"Anything like corn fritters?" My boyfriend asked, offering to make corn fritters.

I hadn't made either before. But somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered a combination pancake of apple and corn from days long gone by. I decided to begin the search.

The internet brought up a few apple fritters and corn fritters, but few apple & corn fritters in combination. Still, I refused to give up. Soon I came across a dish referred to as "datch" and began to wonder, could this be the long lost apple/corn pancake from the breakfast buffets of my youth? The recipes still mainly included apples or corn, but by this time I had decided to throw them together and see what stuck.

What resulted was an intriguing combination of savory and sweet that is heavenly with a little bit of butter. I'm not sure if it really counts as datch or it's the same foodstuff I remembered, but below is my attempt to recreate it.

Amy's Apple & Corn Datch

inspired by Pennsylvania Cooking and Goodreads user Valerie with adaptations by me

[ingredients]

2 apples, diced

3 ears of sweet corn

1 egg

2/3 cup flour

1 teaspoon salt

oil for frying

[What to do]

1. Dice apples and cut the kernels off the ears of corn
2. Beat together egg, flour, and salt. Then slowly stir in apples and corn. The batter will be thin. Resist the urge to add flour. [I kept trying to, but my boyfriend stopped me saying that corn fritter batter is supposed to be thin...but he's the pancake chef after all. He would know.]
3. Fry much as you would a pancake: add a spoonful to the pan, flip when edges start to bubble.
4. Serve with butter and salt (to taste)

Stuffed Pepper Soup

It’s getting cold. Can you feel it? Soon it will be Autumn and my favorite time of year: Soup season!

I could wax rhapsodic about my love for soup for many an age. I love soup of all kinds (so long as the amount of celery that ends up floating in the stock is limited -- but that’s an argument for another day). The one I'm about to present to you is one of my all time favorites.

I have a special relationship with stuffed pepper soup (and definitely more memories surrounding this little number than actual stuffed peppers). Many a chilly fall / winter day has been warmed by this soup, but there is one fall day in particular:

It was my junior year of college and having lived in a dorm on a meal plan for the past two years, my cooking skills left something to be desired. Not to mention the fact that college was a rough one emotionally. So, one fall day when things had been particularly rough (though this was still before the time of the bats), my mother showed up with several bags full of ingredients and we got down to making stuffed pepper soup.

Since then, stuffed pepper soup has been on of "our things". Whenever I come home during the fall or winter holidays, we tend to make it at least once. Just last week, she came up to attend a Michigan football game and we made yet another batch.

[ignore the beans; we also made chili]

And so, since this is one of my most requested recipes (especially by my dear friend Jill), I've decided to share its wonderment with you.

Stuffed Pepper Soup

[via mi madre]

[Ingredients]

2 lb ground beef

1 green bell pepper

1 can tomato sauce

1 diced tomato

2 cubes beef bouillon

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 tsp salt

1 tsp black pepper

1 T soy sauce

2 cups cooked rice

[What to do]

1. Brown beef over medium heat
2. Add peppers and saute for 3 minutes
3. Stir in rest of ingredients (sans rice). Reduce heat to love, cover and simmer for 30-45 minutes
4. Stir in rice and heat through
5. Be sure to add some Parmesan  and romano cheese to the top when you serve.

Comfort Food: Zucchini and Tomato Sauce

This is one of those passed down recipes with no explicit instructions.

One of those things that you've been making so long, you could make it in your sleep.

Comfort food.

Everyone has a comfort food or two, whether it be macaroni and cheese or chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. I have...potentially too may comfort foods. Each of them occupy different roles and fulfill different purposes. Different foods to comfort different ailments. Ravioli soothes the savage "missing my family." Potato soup cures illness. Banana pepper and mushroom pizza is good for dealing with rejection letters. But then there's zucchini and tomato sauce - something so utterly simple that only it could be the cure for "I have run out of energy and could sleep solidly for a week."

I'm sure I'm not the only one who has those sorts of days.

Part of the reason it's such a good dish for times like this is it's easy of preparation, limited required commitment, and relative abundance of the necessary ingredients (especially around this time of year).

In order to produce a quality dish of zucchini and tomato sauce, all one must do is slice up a few of the zucchini squash, add it to a pot and douse it with tomato sauce of your choosing. When the zucchini is pretty much cooked down, add some grated Parmesan cheese and stir well.

This was a common side dish growing up in my family, but I'm not ashamed of the number of times it has shown up as a main dish on my own table. Some days, comfort food is exactly what you need.