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Summer bowl
August 25th, 2012
I should be packing for my next trip, really. But hand me a bowl of fresh raspberries and the whole world comes to halt.
Blog
With a cherry on top
July 20th, 2012
Picture a Chuck-E-Cheese-ball-pit-sized vat of pie cherries: that’s what our kitchen feels like right now.
The Tailor loves fresh sour pie cherries with a fiery passion, but they don’t grow well in western Washington (not enough sun). And they’re both hard to transport commercially (thin skins) and not super popular with folks under the age of 80 (too much work). So as you can imagine, even though home canning is a big part of everyday life around our house, he hadn’t been able to add cherries to the routine.
Until now.
He managed to find a farmer on the other side of the mountains who specialized in pie cherries. To make it worthwhile for both the farmer to harvest them fresh, and the Tailor to drive three hours one way, he ordered a metric boatload.
So now our kitchen is filled with pitted cherries.
And mashed cherries.
And pie’d cherries.
I gotta say—I finally see what all the fuss is about! That is one tasty labor of love.
He made some tarts, all on a winter’s day
March 14th, 2012
Clearly I’m a lucky gal.
A rare treat
December 4th, 2011
The Tailor and I were talking today about holiday traditions. In his family, it’s standard fare to find an orange in one’s stocking on Christmas morning. He’s originally from Kansas, where the tradition hearkens back to the days when citrus fruit was an exotic luxury. I remember my grandmother telling me a similar story about her childhood Christmases—she grew up on a farm in Nova Scotia, and an orange in the 1920s Maritimes must have been about as singular as it would have been in, say, Laura Ingalls’s stocking.
If you mostly subsist on local, seasonal produce, those old tales mean a lot more than they would otherwise. After all, all the Florida oranges and Chilean strawberries in the supermarket don’t matter much if you choose not to partake of them. So today, when I cut into the huge, beautiful avocados Sarah and Jesse had brought with them from California when they came for Thanksgiving, I think I knew how Nana, and the Tailor’s ancestors, and Laura Ingalls must have felt all those years ago. Jesse bought them green, directly from the farmer, so they’d have time to ripen for us here. Sarah wrapped each fruit individually in paper, and packed them carefully in a tin. And then together they journeyed for two days to give them to us in person. I can’t think of a more precious gift than that.
We’re just finishing up our Christmas lists this weekend, and planning the final round of gift shopping. I know the Tailor will be expecting the annual orange in his stocking, just for tradition’s sake. So maybe I’ll ask Santa for an avocado in mine.
Winter roses
January 10th, 2011
Despite the time of year, we’ve got brilliant sunshine streaming in the windows. Judging by how well the Christmas roses are still doing, we’re not the only ones happy about it!
Merry and bright
December 25th, 2010
I was afraid I wasn’t going to have any holiday photos to show you—when I was in Portland the other week, my camera took a nosedive after being bumped off my shoulder in a crowded room.
Snippets from my daily journal
So I shipped the lens off to the good folks at Canon for repair, and switched to paper for awhile.
One of Maurice Sendak’s eye-candy stage sets for the Pacific NW Ballet’s Nutcracker
My favorite thing about sketchbooks is that I can take them anywhere—including places where cameras, functioning or not, are strictly verboten.
More Nutcracker scenery, plus Christmas on Pine Street in Seattle
The downside, though, is that it takes me a lot longer to draw a picture than to shoot one—so my output is always smaller than I’d like.
But then the Fedex guy showed up with my lens, good as new and just in time for Christmas.
I managed to refrain from hugging him, and then hopped around the house in manic glee, documenting the holiday the Tailor and I have spent all week creating.
(We finally broke down and bought twinkle lights for the tree; which provided the perfect inspiration for this year’s card!)
Wherever today finds you, have a warm, cozy, abundant, and very merry Christmas.
Snow day
November 22nd, 2010
Three inches of snow fell today while I had my morning cuppa. Since the region has possibly the world’s tiniest fleet of snow plows (Seattle has a grand total of twenty-seven; you can imagine what the handful Tacoma’s got), and none of them are out thus far—’round here, three inches is enough to cancel an entire city, let alone school.
Despite the lure of white beaches and urban ski runs, I’m not crazy enough to try descending the hills today. Instead I’m spending my snow day close to home, so I can marvel at how strange the rhodies look under a sugar dusting.
On our rare doses of “real” winter, it always looks like Nature made some sort of clerical error—like the mailman dropping someone else’s holiday cards into our mailbox.
Instead of a blanket of white over a soft grey world, everything glows in blues, greens, yellows … and reds?
Yes, that is an apple, still on the tree—nicely chilled and ready to serve for Thanksgiving.
Let it snow!
Just peachy
August 15th, 2010
Earlier this month, my best friend Elizabeth flew in for a visit. Each time she’s come to town I’ve taken her to see a different part of the state—and since we’re in the middle of fruit season, this time we headed for the Yakima Valley.
At this time of year, the roadsides are piled high with apple crates,
ready for the harvest that will begin in a few weeks.
The pears seem to be a little closer—
they’re ripening quite nicely.
Right now, though, it’s peach season. The Tailor sent us on an errand for as much preserve-ready fruit as we could get our hands on—so I took him literally and brought home fifty pounds of Regina peaches,
another fifty of Rival apricots,
and a handful of beautiful donuts for a snack.
Once he got over his shock at the trunk full of fruit, and set aside a few peaches for the pie I had been begging for, the Tailor canned up an impressive array of preserves. From top left forward: peach jam; ginger-peach chutney (a collaboration with Jessica); sliced peaches in medium syrup; apricot jam; apricot sauce.
My favorite, and the one I can’t wait to taste with a little kugel:
Apricot Jam
(yield: about 10 half-pint jars)
– 2 quarts (8 cups) crushed, peeled apricots
– 6 cups sugar
Now, I’m not going to go into great detail about the whys and wherefores of home canning now, but if canning’s your thing, this will be old hat for you anyway. If not, and you’d like more specific instructions, I’d suggest our favorite resource: Putting Food By.
Anyway. Wash your jars in hot water (most books will tell you to sterilize them, but that’s what the hot water bath at the end is for). Keep the jars hot in a low oven (if you pour hot jam into cold jars, the glass can shatter), and the lids sterile in boiling water until ready to use.
Combine the apricots and sugar in a large stock pot. Slowly bring to a boil, stirring occasionally until the sugar dissolves. Cook at a rapid boil until thick (when the mixture reaches about 220° F, depending on your preference), about an hour, stirring frequently to prevent sticking or scorching.
When the mixture jells, pour it into the hot jars, leaving a 1/4-inch headspace in each. Wipe the jar rims with a clean cloth (any jam left on the rim will prevent the jar from sealing), attach lids, and tighten ring bands. Process in a boiling water bath for 5 minutes (longer if you live at high altitude).
Let cool for 12 hours before removing the ring bands. Store in a dark, dry, cool place.
(Or, if you just can’t wait, pop open a jar and have some toast ready.)
Blissberries
June 5th, 2010
If I ran the world, there would be a national holiday to celebrate the first strawberries and cream of the season. This is worth the closing of stores, school cancellations, paid vacation time. I would send greeting cards for this. Happy Berry Day!
Poultry palette
March 15th, 2010
We buy our eggs from a friend’s urban farmstead—every time we get a new delivery, I get more excited about the colors in the carton than the prospect of fresh omelettes. Is that weird?