Half-assing an herb garden

The back "herb pots in the ground"

Apple mint, miniature roses in the background

pineapple sage and oregano

Chives, flowering, and Basil

So my herbs are scattered now. Thyme and parsley and cilantro in the front, all transplanted to a makeshift row bordering my gravel walk. Chives, flowering purple, in Maia's plot. Basil too, actually. And in the back, a row of "herbs pots in the ground": sage, thyme, apple mint, oregano, pineapple sage. Spearmint is in the brown pot, another mint (I can't recall which) in the white pot.

Behind the herbs I've planted a rosemary bush that is clearly alive, but not really growing. Next to it is a transplanted hydrangea tree which seems to be coming along nicely. Grown properly, I hope this tree will bring me some height to this plot. Between that and a rosemary bush, I'm hoping we can block out the garbage and recycling cans behind the herb plot.

The row of "herb pots" is most intriguing. The oregano never died, but has produced beautiful oregano all summer and winter. The pineapple sage flowers red and majestic in the late Fall, then recedes before poking out in the Spring. The thyme never really produced last year, but is back with a vengeance this year. Same with the sage.

I want ultimately to raise the bed with the herbs, enrich the soil, and put good landscape lighting in front of them. I have no name for my backyard herb plots, but they have worked out quite well thus far. Much better than my front yard herbs, which are scattered amongst other plants and weeds.

If everything is an experiment in my garden, then the backyard has turned quite pleasant with the regrowth of my herbs from last year. It is not quite a success, but not a failure either. More of a work in progress.

Garden plantings: round two

Went back to the oakhurst community gardens and found a few more plants to put in. Now I have Kevin's Early Orange peppers (planted next to the Barbarella Eggplant), and three "double yield" cucumber plants in my front row. This completes Maia's Patch (or whatever you want to call the triangle patch in front of her window. I have one row left to plant.

Juane Flamee in planter, after one week

Cherokee Purple, west side of row

I scattered some fertilizer in the new plantings, just as I had in the ones last week. Everything appears healthy and hopefully is rooting. Rain this week was good, but I watered yesterday for good measure. There will be no rain this week, so I'll have to water at least on Wednesday before next weekend. I'll fertilize next weekend as well.

Soundtable

After two years, the Soundtable has maintained its standing among the top Atlanta cocktail bars. It may not enjoy the fire it had at its opening, when I could happily report that it had no equal in Atlanta. They have since lost at least one of their fine bartenders and other establishments have risen from the dust to compete. So it is more the crowding of the field than a decline in quality that diminishes the Soundtable relative to its peers. I am just as apt on any night to run to H. Harper Station or Pura Vida for cocktails, and I no longer recommend solely the Soundtable when people ask where the good drinks flow.

But I will always have an affinity for the Soundtable. The location at Edgewood and Boulevard is romantic urban chic, and reaffirms my general aversion to Buckhead and Virginia Highlands. The vibe at the Soundtable is good and the style is both modern and warm, an aesthetic which I find pleasing. I don't like it when crowded, but then again I don't like any bar when it is crowded. (I prefer what Chicago's The Violet Hour does--only allowing as many patrons as they can seat at any one time and forcing any overflow traffic to line up outside.) The service is genuinely friendly and knowledgeable, even if they may lose some marks for speed and efficiency. I have often times waited far too long for a drink there, even when it's not busy. But on the same note, the bartenders and waiters work with you and the menu to find you the perfect match. In the end, I'd rather have an artisanal bar stocked with experts in craft than exemplars of service. Save the five star service for the five star restaurants whose rich patrons probably have no clue what they are tasting or ingesting.

What I am happiest to report on is that the Soundtable can stake a solid claim to being the most subtle purveyors of craft cocktails in Atlanta. Their drinks tend toward the simple, experimenting with three or four ingredients, paying attention to proportions rather than throwing more and more exotic liquors into the mix. Last night I had two rich and dusky cocktails there, both made with fernet branca. Between that and the sweetbreads, my life suddenly seemed remarkably good. The bartenders were in a friendly mood, mainly experimenting with drinks during a slow night (Wednesday, after all...) One bartender was working on a honeysuckle old fashioned, which he let me try. We bantered about ways to craft the cocktail. By the end of the night, he had a pretty damn good concoction. Or at least I think he did. I was pretty drunk by the time I left.

I was there, two years ago, for the opening of the Soundtable--or at least, I was there shortly after it opened. I used to go frequently, or as frequently as my two year old will give me leave. But I hadn't been back in some time, owing probably more to my increasing schedule than anything else. So it's good to check in from time to time, and even better to leave smiling. And not just because a couple of cocktails will make you smile, but because the taste of fernet branca and how it alters with 7 year old rum versus 10 year old bourbon has been comfortably lodged in your head. Well, it was in mine anyway.

scrambling the egg

It turns out there is an art to scrambling. I had, hitherto, treated scrambled eggs much like I treated omelets, cooking them over high heat for a short amount of time with one tablespoon of butter. But research conducted before a Sunday brunch for visiting family shamed me--I've been doing it wrong. The differences between omelet and scramble are, it turns out, great.

Omelets proceed from lightly beaten eggs--no more than forty strokes. Scrambles benefit from aeration, so it is preferable to whisk them into submission. I prefer in both situations to allow the eggs to rise to room temperature before cooking, should time allow.

The high heat used in omelet preparation helps establish shape and consistency in a single omelet. The texture it returns is fluffy, but it is also a decided and whole structure. Even without filling, the omelet still tastes like a sandwich to me, and this gastronomic metaphor actually helps one evaluate omelets. I dined the other week at Murphy's, a Virginia-Highlands mainstay that has usually returned palatable fare during my time in Atlanta. I believe, in fact, that it was the first restaurant I ever went to, back when I interviewed. I ordered the special omelet, which promised Berkshire ham and, well, something else that I can't remember now. The ham was great. The eggs... not so much. It was flat, slightly browned, and far too big. The result was joyless eggs, much like a sandwich on wonderbread. I picked the ham out.

For a scramble, the heat should be medium low. I've experimented with my front burners between 4 and 6, and found that 6 is definitely too high. (Note: try the back burners, where low heat can be controlled better.) Once the butter has melted in the pan (1 tbsp for 2-3 eggs), add the eggs. Then start whisking, and prepare to whisk for 3-4 minutes. As the eggs cook, they will separate into curds. The whisking helps aerate and keep the curds small. The result is not fluffy, but creamy. The texture is something more akin to polenta than an omelet. They are phenomenally good this way, and they can be dressed after completion with butter, chives, or any other herb.

The best scramble I have made so far I did in my metal saute pan. I stuck to metal because it allowed me to use a metal whisk. When I used the nonstick pan, I used a rubber spoon and swirled the eggs. The curds were larger when I did this, and although the eggs were tender, they were not as good.

There are two drawbacks to cooking eggs in this French fashion. The first is specific to the scramble, and is merely the trouble of cleaning a metal pan in which eggs stick. The second problem covers both, and is a problem of texture and taste. Once you begin to realize how heat, applied in different ways, alters the same core ingredient to produce variation, you become aware of how awful most eateries really are. I am reminded of a scene in Grosse Point Blank where John Cusack orders a plain, egg-white omelet at a diner while in a silent standoff with Dan Akroyd, who has just ordered poached eggs. The waitress, oblivious to the fact that the two are pointing guns at each other under the table, asks Cusack what he wants in his omelet. Cusack asks for it plain, and the waitress objects that it can't technically be an omelet without a filling. I can't do the scene comedic justice, but it says something about the quality of the writing that I can only now appreciate its humor fully. Omelets are not about filling. They are about eggs. And my recent disappointment at Murphy's is all thanks to understanding just how different are different kinds of egg preparation. Alas!

Spring Planting, 2012

The weather would have allowed for an early planting this year, but I waited until Easter anyway. The reason may partly lie with work, which has kept me knotted up more than usual, or superstition, as I feared the early warmth was cozying up just to lull us all into a false state of fuzziness just to surprise us with a late-spring frost. But nothing doing. The ground has been thawed for more than a month and nothing will freeze it now--freakish weather aside.

I have tried two different transplants this year. The first is to take my vinca major and transplant it to the mailbox area. It flowers purple in the Spring and seems to take in any soil, so it will make nice ground cover around my mailbox. The second was to take my silver edge thyme and transplant it to the north of my gravel walk. I ultimately want to plant other hearty herbs in a makeshift row there, just to further push back my lawn. The silver edge thyme is so hardy and creeps so wonderfully that I couldn't resist setting it there.

Tomato plants: I planted seven different tomato plants. The big difference from last year to this is that I am no longer cramming my tomato plants into the planters. They will now each occupy their own space. From east to west, the plants are as follows:

Sweet Olive
Orange Blossom
Cherokee Purple
Sunny Boy
Cherokee Purple
Mortgage Lifters
Juane Flamee

So, the row of five starts with Orange Blossom and ends with Mortgage Lifters. I'm trying a variety of heirloom and hybrid seeds, purely speculatively and based on what caught my fancy at the Oakhurst Community Gardens.

Maia's Plot, the rows, and the planter

For peppers, I've planted jalepenos and Tequila Sunset sweet. They are in the back row up of Maia's Plot. I also planted a "Barbarella" eggplant, primarily because it claimed to have beautiful fruit, in the front row. I have plenty of space available there for cucumbers, once I can find any.

The picture is kind of weak, but it gives you an idea of where everything is--if you can make out the tomato cages, everything else kind of falls into line.

In the back, I have planted Apple Mint (where the basil used to be) and Peppermint (in a pot), and I'm waiting to see if the mint in the other pot comes back.

I will fertilize every two weeks. I'm still unclear about how much fertilizer I need to be using for each plant, but I will simply record what I do, faithfully here.

Carolina Style BBQ Sauce Proprietary Blend #142412

So I've made my own sauce. Given that it's the first one, this is not something I expect will work out horribly well. I started with 1 cup of white vinegar, added 2 tsp of coarsely ground black pepper, 2 tbsp of light brown sugar, 2 tsp of crushed red pepper, 1/2 tsp of ghost pepper sauce, 1 tsp of hot sauce and then let it all meld for a day in the fridge. Then, somewhat distressed because it resembled a mopping sauce and the pepper separated (red pepper floated, black pepper sat at the bottom), I put it on the stove and added 2 tbsp of tomato paste, a few dashes of worcestershire sauce, and a little more sugar.

So it cooked down, and now I have my sauce. It is supremely tangy, more so than any other sauce I have ever had. It is also HOT. It has front and back bite and a round depth to it, burning in shelves across the tongue. I would consider it a light drizzler on a fatty and sweet meat.

So, the numbers on my hot sauce are coded this way. The first digit is the number of the sauce. For a vinegar based eastern carolina sauce, I gave it a 1. I suppose that throwing in the tomato paste may have deviated from the eastern style somewhat, but oh well. Perhaps a "true" eastern carolina recipe will get a different number.

The second set of digits is the date of making it, with no zeros attached. So 42412 Is April 24, 2012. Hence, #142412 on this bottle of bbq sauce.

Given that my family will not appreciate Proprietary Blend #1, I will have to either develop one for them or just let them eat commercial. There are good bbq sauces out there for sale, so this can be my little hobby.

lamb and apricot stew

I attempted last night to replicate a recipe several East Point friends of mine made for me a few some time past. Given that I did not see them cook it, I had to work mainly off of instinct and tacit knowledge about stewing, lamb, etc. It worked okay.

I started with 1 pound of bone-in lamb. This makes just enough for two, with potentially one portion of left overs. 2 pounds will do for serving four (no less, please).

First I heated oil in a dutch oven. Not too much oil is needed--we are sizzling cumin seeds and browning lamb. The fatty lamb will flavor the stew well enough. So thin layer only.

So, then, sizzle some cumin seeds and add the lamb. Salt the lamb generously. Also add a pinch of cinnamon. Then cover with chicken stock (just barely cover), add the dried apricots, cover, and then remove to the oven at 300 degrees for one hour.

I served this with herbed couscous and asparagus.

It turned out delicious, although the dried apricots were fairly roundly stewed, some of them fairly bursting apart. When I do it again, I will go even lighter on the chicken stock and will add the apricots half way through cooking just to see if it changes the flavor. The savory lamb need not be sweetened by the presence of apricots during too much cooking--the cinnamon imparts all the flavor we need in the dish. And I think it important that the apricots retain their integrity. What are we, after all, without our dignity?

Anyway, tasty lamb. EASY dish. Infinite variations possible.

eastern Carolina bbq sauce

The only published North Carolina bbq sauce I have is a "mix" of eastern and western sensibilities (vinegar and ketchup based). Lacking good information on this bbq, I am comparing some recipes.

Some recipes call for more sugar than most, but generally a 1 1/2 cup yield contains a small amount of sugar--say 2 tbsp. Otherwise, it is a straightforward vinegar with some very basic crushed herbs and peppers, and hot sauce. I will likely put my ghost pepper hot sauce to work in a batch.

From amazing ribs

Recipe

Yield. Makes about 1 1/2 cups. Click here to calculate how much you need and for tips on saucing strategies.
Preparation time. About 30 minutes.

Ingredients
1 1/2 cups of distilled vinegar
1 teaspoon hot sauce
2 tablespoons sugar (white, light brown, or dark brown)
1 tablespoon salt
2 teaspoons crushed red pepper
2 teaspoons finely ground black pepper

About the vinegar. Seems to me that the best sauces in the area were made with distilled white vinegar, not cider vinegar. So I tried my recipes with both and I liked the distilled better. If you want to use cider, feel free.

From Allrecipes:

• 1 cup white vinegar
• 1 cup cider vinegar
• 1 tablespoon brown sugar
• 1 tablespoon cayenne pepper
• 1 tablespoon hot pepper sauce (e.g. Tabasco™), or to taste
• 1 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon ground black pepper

AND

• 2 cups cider vinegar
• 2 tablespoons molasses
• 1 tablespoon ground dry mustard
• 1/2 cup butter
• 1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
• 1 tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
• 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar

Tabouli--spelling or not

Bulgur wheat is one of the healthiest of the whole grains. No chemicals or additives are needed during processing, it is high in dietary fiber, easy on the system, and immensely filling. I've been experimenting with Tabouli recipes for a stock lunch dish--something to keep in the fridge and carry with me during the week. Over the summer, this can be a simple dish to take up extra cukes, tomatoes, and peppers--whatever is around.

So here is the first recipe that I have tried twice now and seem to be getting good results with.

For the wheat: 3 cups of Turkish bulgur wheat covered with 3 cups boiling water, pot covered, and allowed to sit for 10-15 minutes.

Add 1 cup of oil to the bulgur wheat. I prefer to add the oil first, as it loosens up the bulgur. I most often have to drizzle more oil over the salad later.

1 1/2 cups chopped parsley (one bunch of parsley predictably turns out this much chopped)
1 1/2 cups chopped mint
1/2-3/4 of a red onion, chopped
2 tomatoes, seeded, cut into small dice
1/2 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice
3-4 pinches of kosher salt (to taste)

This is the base salad. I will be adding kalamata olives once I chop them, and feta cheese before serving.

As with the chickpea salad I frequently make, this tastes better after several days. If made up on Sunday, it provides food for nearly a whole week for two. To be frank, the only painful part of this salad is pulling all the parsley off of its stems. By the time one arrives at the tomato part of this dish, it has become tedious enough that the whole project is in danger of abandonment. So this week I made it up on Saturday, and will likely chop up more tomatoes and olives tonight to round out the salad.

Cannellini Beans

The white kidney bean is a staple in Tuscany cooking. I admit to being utterly amateurish with it, as I currently only use it in a one-pot chicken dish. However, I wanted to experiment with cooking them up rather than going from the can. Here was what working with dried beans yielded the first time out.

I soaked the beans for 13 hours. A late night wake-up and wander allowed me to add water, as the beans easily double in size while soaked. I brought a pot of water to a boil, added the beans with a slotted spoon, returned to a boil and let them boil for ten minutes. This step is apparently necessary to remove toxins, and is a necessity no matter what kind of kidney bean you are using. I then reduced the heat to a simmer and cooked for nearly two hours.

The beans came out a bit mushy. I think I boiled a bit long (probably closer to 15 or 20 minutes) and then let them simmer too long. Reminder that next time I should check at 1 hour.