Farro Salad

Farro is the latest grain of the month, an ancient grain once enjoyed by the Romans, prized for its healthy attributes, nutty flavor, and a texture which can vary from chewy to creamy depending on how one cooks it. I discovered farro in a salad at Empire State South in Atlanta. They carry it by the tub at the DeKalb Farmers' Market, so I picked one up on our weekly shopping pilgrimage.

Cooking farro is easy. I tried three different preparations. In the first preparation, I rinsed one cup of farro and brought it and three cups of heavily salted water to a boil. I let it run about thirty minutes, and then drained the water. I allowed the farro to cool on its own. In the second preparation, I rinsed one cup of farro and brought it and three cups of unsalted water to a boil. I pulled this farro after about twenty five minutes, and then rinsed it in cold water. In the third preparation, I let the farro cook for just under twenty minutes, then added about two teaspoons of salt and cooked for another ten, and then rinsed the grain in cold water.

The Romans knew what they were doing...

The first preparation was too salty, the second not salty enough, although the two mixed together worked just fine. The third preparation was spot on. Rinsing the grains prevented them from becoming creamy, so one can control texture.

The salad recipe I made from it was also simple, and tasty. Into the three cups dry farro (I did not measure how much this yielded cooked), I chopped up three green peppers, one jar of kalamata olives, about six ounces of crumbled parmesean, and one bunch of chives. With the exception of the olives, it all came from the garden.

The dressing was:

1/2 cup sherry vinegar
1/2 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons Dijon mustard
2 teaspoons freshly ground black pepper



I dressed the salad about two hours prior to serving. Easy, quick, and (in my opinion), quite tasty.

The Bourbon Flip

It is time to begin the search for a signature holiday drink. The holidays invite tampering with classics, with bold moves and uncertain results. While the colder days of winter call for stiff and unassuming cocktails of no more than three ingredients, and the dog days of summer call for white liquors, fresh herbs and citrus, the holidays invoke a different feel. The weather is transitioning. Warm days give way to colder, although even in the more wintery north, warm days peek out for days at a time, tempting us to return the mitts and hats to the dresser and to shed that extra layer of clothing. The air is crisper. The leaves have turned, and begun their gradual migration to the streets. Ovens heat up. Turkeys and hams and roasts occupy our plates alongside yams and turnips and dressing. The frantic rush of the year closes in. Yet, somehow, this is when we breathe the best.

So it needs a cocktail. Actually, not necessarily a cocktail, which, as cocktail 101 informs us, historically requires the addition of bitters to make it such. I prefer the idea of a flip for the holiday. It can stand alone, or follow a decent meal. It feels wholesome and round. It even sounds festive.

So I am searching for a good bourbon flip recipe. I've had two excellent flips, one in Chicago at the Violet Hour, and another at Empire State South in Atlanta.

The Violet Hour served up a libation it called the "Cold & Delicious"

Pierre Ferrand 1840 Cognac, Dow's Ruby Port, Spice Trader Syrup, Nux Alpina Black Walnut Liqueur, Whole Egg, Apple Bitters. 

 It was both cold and delicious. But it felt wrong to me. I had just had the bartender make me an old fashioned, which he did with 12 year old rye and tobacco bitters. After such a simple and aromatic libation, the flip tasted overdone. The spices all came together, but it tasted no different from simpler flips I had had in the past (at least in my mind, this was the case).

The flip at Empire State South was decidedly simpler, and as such carried the unassuming name "bourbon flip." I had it at the end of a meal in lieu of a dessert. It was beautifully crafted, and immediately impressed upon me the fact that we had to anoint the bourbon flip as the libation of choice for the 2012 holiday season.

So I must find a recipe. The most basic seems the following, which appears as a standard recipe almost everywhere and in every book:

2 oz. bourbon
1 egg
1 tsp superfine sugar
1/2 oz cream
1/8 teaspoon grated nutmeg.

Another set of proportions over at Ladies United offers the following, which appears heavier:

3 oz. bourbon
2 oz. heavy cream
1 large egg
1 oz. spiced simple syrup

As for technique, the shaking method seems to be the popular one. To return to the classic How to Mix Drinks, the directions are as follows:

The essential in "flips" of all sorts is, to produce the smoothness by repeated pouring back and forth between two vessels, and beating up the eggs well in the first instance; the sweetening and spices according to taste.

It also calls for heating the beer (the recipe is for a rum and beer flip) to near boiling before mixing it with the rum and egg mixture. I think shaking will do, although I am untutored on the subject.

The Czech Republic, Goulash and Dumplings..

It's been a while, but I've been busy - finding temporary dwellings in Berlin while settling in and playing shows at night with friends on various stages in the city - but I've been eating and documenting still. :)

During early September, my boyfriend and I went to visit his family in a small town called Česká Lípa (about an hour or less north by train from Prague). We did visit Prague (divine), where we mainly walked around the city. We managed to find many good places to eat, including an amazing cocktail bar focusing on fresh ingredients. If you travel Europe and haven't been to Prague, you are a fool and must go right now. The details in architecture are beyond charming and unique. The views of the city from different points must not be missed, nor a trip across the bridge to the palace and nearby park. The pics below are just several examples of all the glorious buildings you walk across - all lined up, one after another..

We also stopped in to eat at a pub for some local fare - goulash and dumplings with a pilsner (this particular goulash was mainly juice from pork meat and powdered peppers), a common and hearty dish eaten in the Czech Republic. 

                                                      Goulash lunch special, local pub in Prague

Goulash comes from Hungary, but it is popular in Eastern and Northern Europe - and in Germany, I am finding. Typically onions and garlic are added, and additional spices such as cumin or marjoram. It can be more of a stew (as it was at this pub) or a soup. This lunch (only 3 Euros) was served with potato dumplings, filled with chunks of bread and little pig bits to make it extra tasty. I prefer potato dumplings over the bread-like ones - they are heartier and seem to have more flavor. And of course, one must order a Pilsner as after all, this is the country it calls home. Plus it helps wash down the slightly bitter after-taste of the paprika pepper sauce. This goulash was delicious, even without the tomato (which is often added in other recipes). 

After a few days in the city, we went up north to Česká Lípa. There I visited both parents and my boyfriend's Grandmother. I will be calling her Grandma Czech from now on, as she is the one who prepared most food while I was there and very true to the culture of her life in Česká Lípa and its surroundings. :) 

Both households (Grandma and Mom + Dad) had backyard gardens big and abundant enough to feed the entire neighborhood. Apple, apricot, plum, and pear trees filled the yard along with scores of tomatoes, strawberries, raspberries, aubergines, snow peas, yellow and black currents, lettuce, brussel sprouts, concord grapes…. I could go on but it's exhausting.

Grandma Czech didn't just have her garden - she also keeps chickens, turkeys and rabbits. I was told she once had a pig and a goat in addition - all in her backyard. She cares for all these animals but also uses them for food when the moment arises. You'd never guess she takes care of business when the time comes - but she does. I admit she has a lot more guts than I do where that is concerned.

But let's talk about Dumplings. :)

I woke up to Jan warning me if I didn't go downstairs I would miss Grandma making her special dumplings for breakfast. I quickly threw on some clothes and ran down to find her already rolling them. She handed me a square piece of dough (made from boiled potato mixed with a bit of salt and course flour) and plopped a small plum (picked right from her tree outside) into the middle of it and instructed me to roll until it covered the plumb completely. 

                                                            

                                                          Roll, Roll, Roll the Dumplings... 

                                                   That's course flour on the board, there...

                               

After rolling a number of these, she plopped them into a pot of boiling water and let them sit in there for about 6-7 minutes, warning me not to let them stick to the bottom of the pot. She then removed them and first poured a combo of sugar and poppy seeds over the top, then drizzling melted butter to finish them off..

After this they are ready to serve. I sat down and stuck my fork in - surprised at how easily it went in through the plum. It was hot and steamy but after a few seconds, I took a bite and I could not believe how delicious this was - and how simple. The tartness from the plum skin was divine, as was the flavor of the heated plum - not as sweet as it would have been but just perfect in my mind in this dumpling. I think I ate about 6 of them. The plums were fresh and in season, which of course makes a big difference. Even more romantic was the thought that they came right off of the tree in the backyard. I had to stop myself from gorging on more. Fortunately we were out the door soon for a long walk. 

After I ate all 6 dumplings, Jan and I took a hike around the village and visited a mountain nearby. The landscape is green and lush and full of fields for farming. Grandma was out in the field the day before picking up potatoes harvested that season - she had clearly gotten some sun and I was impressed by how vital and physically energetic she is in her 70s. She told us when we returned that afternoon we would have rabbit from the yard. That was an experience and will be the topic of the next post. Here's a pic of her trying to hold back her enthusiastic dog, whom was very keen to jump all over us upon arrival. Adorable. 

Kringle and good music...

Copenhagen Songwriter Festival and the Kringle

While in Copenhagen performing at the Songwriters Festival I was quite occupied with music rather than food. I was also only there for a few days, so this entry will be a bit different. :) I saw some great musicians well worth mentioning, which I feel I must do here, since nobody in the States will have heard of them. I of course, got up and did my thing on the main stage (unfortunately I was sick with a fever), and will probably do it again next year, hopefully under better circumstances. :) 

One thing I always make extra effort to consume while in Copenhagen is Kringle. Danishes are famous in America, but after eating them in Denmark I don't wish to try them anywhere else. :) Pastries shaped in a circular fashion or historically, like a pretzel (brought over by Roman monks in the 13th century), they are extremely thin layers of dough (like Viennese pastries, only with more egg I'm told), with some sort of filling in the center between the layers. Below, as you can see, chocolate, marzipan, etc. is used for filling. The one I like has a custard filling and is sprinkled with roasted sweet almonds and sugar. The Viennese have influenced Danish Kringle but the Danes have their own way of doing it, and it's delicious. 

Kringle is a little different than the smaller danishes shown above. It is prepared in a much larger circle, and is one kind I really like to consume. Here it is more close-up (in the photo below) - not shaped in a circle, but perhaps cut it into lengths as the traditional circle is a bit too large to sell all at once to individuals just walking into a bakery. 

Danish Kringle

Aside from this, food was replaced by new artists I enjoyed while at the festival. Sturle Dagsland, two young brothers from Norway stuck out - both with the soundscapes they created and their emotional performance on stage. Their show was genuine and passionate, something that is quite important for me when out to hear live music. One of them reminds me strongly of a young Kurt Cobain..

Another super soon-to-be hot player in my mind (virtually unknown and one that real hipsters would drool over)  is 'EED'. Although she promised me she would put her songs up in several weeks you won't find a trace of her on the internet yet. Also Norwegian - living in Copenhagen for now she is, simply put, DOPE. She sports a very child-like hipster look but doesn't seem pretentious at all. She drums a simple rock/pop beat while singing with a keyboard player and one other female vocalist. The songs are sparse and so very 'on' and rhythmic that you find yourself digging the show immensely as your jaw drops at the rather complicated vocal arrangement interplay by her and her backup singer. She also balances out the poppy stuff with melodic singing on other tunes. I was completely into everything she did and am desperately awaiting a recording. I hope I'm not disappointed as recordings often don't measure up to a great performance, which in her case, was *totally awesome*. I have serious hope for her though, as her writing was solid. 

Otherwise, I'm heading for Prague with my man soon and will eat from Grandma's backyard garden, rabbits included. That will be a major post for me as we will make the whole meal from scratch, including fresh rabbit. For now, Kringle (and music) will have to do from Denmark. Cheers!

fertilizer and pruning (boring)

SHOOPING carts need not apply

Today hardly seemed like August. It was cool and dry this morning and remained so through 10:30 a.m. It made for a beautiful walk and then hour or two spent in the garden. I fertilized the vegetables, the backyard gardenia and lantana and roses with 2 gallons of neptune's own. I also pruned back the knockout roses in the front by almost one third. And I destroyed the privet. Damn that felt good.

Couldn't catch a fish, but caught me a local treasure...

So I've had no luck catching a fish on my own. I'll admit, I didn't try THAT hard the other day (I think we had the line in the water for about an hour with no bait). A large one jumped clear out of the water about 20 feet away as if to taunt me, but he wasn't simple enough to bite at MY fishing line. Oh well - I will try fishing again when I return to Norway. Here's a pic of me as a fishing virgin. What a place to fish.. :)

Forget fishing - I caught a local treasure I will be talking about for a while. Johan Setnes - a teacher and resident here in Andalsnes runs his own small winery, started as a hobby in 1980 since becoming a recognized cellar and tasting attraction for those who enjoy fruit wine. Using only local organic fruit or herbs (strawberry, apricot, plum, birch tree, cloudberries etc.) - some from his own garden, he produces his wine, with 14 cellars at his disposal.  

Frozen fruit and berries for wine prep from the surrounding Region

We took a tour of the cellars and tasted about 11 different varieties, all unique and flavorful with different levels of sweetness. Most wines run around 11-12% in alcohol content, and depending on what you drink you could become intoxicated *very* fast if you aren't careful. The plum wine had virtually no sign of alcohol going down and was incredibly smooth. Others less so - and more to my personal liking. Some of the wines were quite sweet (for instance, yellow gooseberry or raspberry), and others quite rounded in flavor, having a deliciously 'funky' taste to them - like the 21-year aged Lingonberry, blueberry and Cranberry blend we tried in the last candlelit stone cellar towards the end of the tour. This bottle was my favorite:

21-year blend - a 6 out of 6 from Norwegian wine experts

Our tasting of this wine in a candlelit cellar

His process is fairly straight-forward - Johan collects the fruit and freezes it (this adds more flavor, he tells us). Then after crushing for juice, he adds yeast and lets it sit for approximately ten days. It is then added to a container and eventually topped off with sugar water. The next step is to release all the air that may be left in the containers (plastic device at the top of the containers below), which you do slowly over time. 

Release the gases!

When the bubbles are gone (about three months), you switch it over to a glass container where it goes through a process of resting. He stores most wines in glass containers for years before bottling. Once bottled, they are stored in his slightly damp and cool cellar - some for over a decade. All this was understood by me quite vaguely as it was told to us in Norwegian and my translator was doing his best but had to summarize at times rather quickly (my boyfriend). Any mystery about the process can be dispelled as Johan has published a book about it - in Norwegian, of course. :)

Stored bottles - the wall grows substantial mold - part of the process

I've been to wine tastings, but this one trumps the rest. The small cellars provided a cozy and intimate atmosphere, and Johan's personal attendance and lecture of his process and wines was a treat - not just because of their flavors :) I begged him to sell me a bottle of the Birch Tree or blended berry wines but his bottles are not for sale. If you want Johan's wine, you can only sip it at a tasting here in Andalsnes - frustrating INDEED. Taxes mainly prevent him from selling them, but he clearly enjoys giving the lectures in person - and receiving company from people who come to taste what he has lovingly produced. Oh well. Guess I'll have to come back.

Johan Setnes with  his wines - WWW.TUENVIN.NET

watermelon margarita and the existential crisis

We bought a watermelon the other day. This is a very southern thing, and being a westerner, I view it with no small amount of suspicion. In the desert, no fruit would be allowed to hold this much fluid. Not without attracting all manner of beast and foul that would, eventually, spell its doom. Growing up, watermelon was something we found prepackaged in cellophane. I couldn't really figure out what it looked like until I was old enough to piece it all together.

In any case, the point here is that we bought a watermelon, and it turns out they are utter beasts. Not even eating watermelon every day put a dent in this monster. And so I lugged the half we still had up to the kitchen, pulped it, pulverized it in the blender, strained it, and then made watermelon margaritas. The formula went roughly this way:

6 oz. tequila
4 oz. watermelon essence
4 oz. lime juice
1 oz. triple sec
squeeze of agave syrup
turn of the sea salt wheel

Made adjustments with each batch, but this was bout as much as I could get into the shaker at any given time. It was heaven.

Which brings me to the existential crisis. I know this is a simple watermelon margarita, but it was the first one I had and it did not follow the crappy recipes I found online. So I'm claiming it. But I don't have a name for it. Our guests suggested a few names, all of which had my name in it. But I don't want to go there. Instead, I want something that either plays on southern or western themes. But doesn't mix them. Here's what I've come up with:

The Sound and the Fury (Faulkner)
Darl's Potable (also Faulkner)
Evening Redness (McCarthy)
Watermelon Margarita (from the interweb)

skirting the steak

The skirt steak hangs beneath the ribs, and along with the hanger and the flank is probably my favorite cut of meat not called ribeye (or tenderloin, although it's been so long I don't even recall what it tastes like). I'm actually a huge fan of the flavorful cuts, and enjoy playing around with them. The similarities between the skirt and the hanger are remarkable. They both carry a distinctive texture, on the tougher side and certainly chewy, but nothing like the leathery brisket. Their flavor is deep and rich, almost organ-like.

I have no recollection of ever cooking a skirt, although my blog tells me I had skirt steak fajitas in January of 2011. Now I will buy them regularly. They are cheap. They are delicious. They take marinades well. They go great with any variety of sides, especially greens.

I eyeballed a rub of kosher salt, paprika, ancho chili powder, and brown sugar. Then I patted the rub on the steak and let it sink in while I chopped an onion. I mixed about a quarter onion with crushed garlic and several tablespoons of lime juice, then dumped the sauce on the steak in a plastic bag. Off to the fridge. Took it out about an hour before cooking.

The grill spiked the temp gauge (again), but I'm pretty sure that it was close 950 degrees. It actually had come back down to 750 by the time I put the steak on. The grill was hot, and I did season it with olive oil.

I had no timer, but I let the steak sit uncovered over the coals for about a minute and a half aside, or at least what felt like a minute and a half a side. Then I closed the grill and shut down the vents for another couple of minutes. Steak was done pretty much perfectly.

steaks and a simple rub

Alright, my camera does not take closeups well

It's been a while.

We pulled two ribeyes for grilling. Some aspects of the grilling went quite well, others not so much. I will indicate here in bold what steps I did not do that I ought to have done, but otherwise will try to treat this as the definitive big green egg backdoor steak grilling guide.

One point: I'm finding that rubs ought not to be too complicated. One maybe two herbs. My new french thyme ought to go well with this.

1. start the fire. It will likely take more than half an hour, and the coals should be evenly lit and white all over. I am now consistently getting the egg to temperatures of above 800 degrees (I'm pegging the needle past 750, so I don't really know how hot it is), and the result is excellent. Make sure the grill gets white hot before you add the steaks.
2. try to get steaks that are at least 1 1/2 inches thick. This round was 1 inch at best. Actually, everyone around me seems to prefer the 1 inch. I prefer my steaks thicker, as I like the difference in texture from crust to slightly cool center. In any case, the directions here are for 1 inch steaks.
3. prepare a rub with ample olive oil, cracked pepper, chopped rosemary (or equivalent chopped herb), and kosher salt. Now give the steaks a shiatsu. Top with garlic salt, but only a thin layer.
4. slash the edges of the steak. They will curl if you neglect to do this.
5. Prepare the timer and get to the grill.
6. hit them hard, over direct heat, for 1:45 each side. 
7. On the second flip, turn the steaks (crosshatching the grill marks), and close up the vents. The egg will belch smoke out of any hole it can find.
8. After 3 more minutes, carefully open vents, burp grill, then open. Flip the steaks over, then close up the vents again.
9. After 3 more minutes, the steaks are ready. Let them sit for five minutes (at least) before serving.

sizzazzle

This is probably quite close to the last set of directions I posted. I have tried different manners of "closing the vents." This time I put the green lid on the top (completely closing it) and left the bottom open. The second time around I closed both. I can't say I'm completely happy with the results, but only because the grill markings were uneven (probably the result of not using enough charcoal to create an even fire) and one of the steaks curled a bit. I do believe that a thicker steak, properly slashed and with a good coal bed underneath it would end up with a happier result.

An ill omen indeed

This morning I fertilized the tomato plants, spreading nearly two gallons over all of them. This represents the heaviest fertilizing I have completed to date. But given that the soil must be weakening and the plants are getting ready to bear fruit, I was anxious to accelerate the fertilizing schedule and increase its volume.

I fertilized at about eight thirty this morning. I should have done it earlier to avoid even more evaporation. When I left the house at nine, the smell of fish emulsion was still heavy in the moist morning air. Will water tomorrow to counteract our droughty conditions.

Also, I saw this sign on my way to work today. I'm still puzzling over it. In relation to my garden, this might be an omen. My second crop of tomatoes may disappoint. Or perhaps the lettuce I plan to plant next weekend will not take. Maybe the squirrels will tighten their racket and take a larger share. I feel oddly concerned.

garden update

The Sunny Boy plant, rolled over

 I have posted several times about the out of control tomato plants, and have now come to grips with the fact that all of this really is my fault. As a horticulturalist, I am a failure at best. My only consolation is that the mammoth fruit the plants produced have kept me and my neighbors and my friends happily munching on salad caprese, BLTs, and just plain tomatoes ever since late June. With the current crop starting to vine ripen, the party might keep going until November. So I don't feel too bad about failure in this case. But, time to reflect.

The squirrel's share at mid-center

This Cherokee Purple is the size of two fists. I shall name it "two fists"

• Plant two determinate vines, one as early as possible and another one month later. Put them in cages and keep them away from the other plants. My orange blossom tomatoes were the first to arrive and were delicious. I would have loved to have them about two weeks earlier than they did arrive, and would love another batch right about now. The determinate vines produce a huge bunch of fruit all at once. They are great for gift baskets, and they would enable me to keep a more steady crop going.

Barbarella out on the town

•  Stake the vines, dammit. Tomato cages are useless (except for the bushier determinate vines). I need a real stake, not the fake bamboo junk I was hustled into. I need at least six feet of stake above ground to house these monster plants. 
• Once staked, trim so that the plant grows along the stake. This involves pulling off the suckers and making sure the plant doesn't veer off in one direction or the other. 
• I know the above two points are elementary. I had read them before I planted. But last year I survived on cages, so it was stubbornness rather than stupidity that led me to try and cage these beasts.

Bell's early orange, not quite early, but orange-y

• This year I planted one cherry (Juane Flamee), one grape (sweet olive), one determinate (Orange Blossom), and four beefsteak style plants (two Cherokee Purples; Mortgage Lifter; Sunny Boy). 
• Next year plant at least two cherry/grape plants, two determinate plants, and at least five other heirloom varieties. Cherokee Purple is a must. 
• Maybe avoid the eggplant next year. Although it is beautiful.
• Need. more. peppers. Hot and sweet. A full row next year. These plants could take the cages.

the peach and the fugitive

I never knew the peach before arriving in East Point. Of course, I had bought peaches before--sad, shriveled creatures picked well before their prime and aged in corporate grocery distribution centers before being stocked in a well-lit produce section. I liked them in pies well enough, but couldn't really stomach them as fruit. They lacked any tartness, any character, and the sweetness never seemed to make up for its mealy texture and lack of balance.

But then I came here, and I hit a peach orchard. The score was a complete bucket full of Elberta Reds, picked mainly by my little traveler. And the bounty was good. The sweetness of these peaches sat inside a firm and meaty texture. Suddenly I was eating peaches every day. Devouring them whole. Taking them with me to work. Sweating for the next score.

Which brings me to peach syrup. I pick my peaches at Gregg Farms, a quaint orchard in Griffin County. In addition to peaches, blueberries, and corn, patrons can buy peach ice cream, peach jelly, peach preserves, jalepeno-peach jelly, and a variety of pickled goods like chow-chow. And, I discovered on the last trip, peach syrup. It sits in a beautiful tabasco-style bottle and sports a rather cozy looking cinnamon stick.

So, for the summer's last fling, I will need to make a peach cocktail. My default would be a rather boring "rum peach": dark and light rum; peach syrup; lemon juice, garnished with a cinnamon stick. I haven't tried this, but I assume it would be good. But I've also found this one on Esquire Magazine: David Brown's Bitter Peach:

• 1 oz Gran Classico Bitter
• 1 oz lemon juice
• 1 oz peach syrup
• 1 small egg white
• Dash Peychaud's Bitters
Combine ingredients, except for Peychaud's Bitters, with ice and shake vigorously. Strain into a chilled cocktail coupe. Top with Peychaud's Bitters.

Results will be forthcoming.

Aquavit

My globe-trotting correspondent Katy Gunn has recently asked for aquavit recipes. To my shame, I have never had aquavit, so I cannot make any solid recommendation. All I know about this Scandinavian staple is that it is grain based, but usually herbed with caraway, dill, or anise, rather than the juniper flavor that accompanies gin. Most of the first recipes I have found treat it like gin, combining it with all manner of sweet and fruity liqueurs and lemon juice to achieve either a martini-like or collins-like drink. Without tasting it, I can go no further. So let the games begin.

Norwegian 'Brunost' Brands

Just a little post for the Fugitive Professor and others that are interested from the first Norwegian post - these are the brands of 'Brunost' (Norwegian Brown Cheese) I have seen in the supermarket here in Andalsnes (Norway). All these are slightly different. The brand seems to be consistent (Tine).

Remember to make your pancakes extra sweet - just shove a slice of this cheese into a folded over pancake. Great dessert after lunch!

Lutefisk and other Norwegian Traditional Curiosities

Another glorious hike we took yesterday led me to this stunning view of the mountains and valley we live around in these here parts:

At one point it got a bit treacherous and I found myself reduced to a quivering helpless baby as I clung to rocks around me, sweaty hands and all, looking to either side and viewing a drop that could easily have resulted in 'the end' of Katy Gunn.. My boyfriend helped me up without any fear and once in a safe location I proceeded to cry as I expunged the panic attack I repressed while climbing. Still, ALL WORTH IT. :)

As I look down from the cliff top, I see water so clear and blue it makes me want to dive down and swim around in it. Norwegians obviously love their nature too. The mountain behind our apartment is visited daily by locals who climb to the top as part of their weekly (if not daily) exercise. We passed an older gentleman in his late 60s hiking down the long trail we did - roughly a 6 hour hike - wow. I can only hope my body is in such good working order at his age. Norwegians clearly have a true love for nature and the experience of being out in it. Their traditions have also grown out of the environment in some curious ways. 

There is tradition in culture, and then there is the evolution that takes us beyond that, bringing new practices into place. Both, I believe are important. Tradition reminds us that humans have been through a lot, and a ritual has been created to remind us of what is important. This serves us for both psychological and emotional reasons I find, and we are losing connection with tradition more and more as technology invades every aspect of our lives. Evolution of tradition also breaks us free of old mind-sets, moving us into an improved, more forward-thinking future as a species. This is essential to better living and I'm behind it all the way.

And on that note, I will now bring up Lutefisk. People from Minnesota with a Scandinavian background are sure to chuckle as I write this or at the very least know what I speak of. For centuries Norwegians have dried cod - as did the other Scandinavians - and have eaten Lutefisk. But Lutefisk is not dried cod. Lutefisk is the result of a process involving cod that frankly, I do not find so appealing :) First you take the dry cod - then you soak it - a LOT - for days in water. Then you soak it again in a water and lye solution for several MORE days until it loses half its protein content resulting in a sort of gelatinous meat state. Soak again in water. I feel like I'm repeating myself, but I have to, because this is the process. Mmmmmmm. By the way - Lutefisk is the result of all this soaking and that is how you buy it from the grocer. This is not a process I would recommend trying at home. :)

Should I try preparing this 'fish' with some sort of side? My boyfriend wrinkles his nose and shakes his head 'no'. I'm inclined to follow his lead. How did Scandinavians come up with this one? There are many folk tales involving vikings, etc. as to why the fish met the lye solution resulting in this. None of them are known to be true. :) I AM curious how this came about, but for now it is a mystery. I think I'd rather try and catch a fish - a practice I find many other Norwegians doing on the beaches here in Andalsnes. 

Dried and salted cod or 'Klippfisk' as Norwegians call it is made here and exported - Spain consumes a lot of it - I remember eating many 'bacalao' dishes while I was in Sevilla (dried cod in a tomato sauce). Dried cod has apparently been on the market for over 500 years, although now due to overfishing, other white fish have replaced it somewhat (stockfish). Traditionally the fish was hung in droves near the sea and dried in the open air. Then came the salt to make it tastier, and now it is often dried in an electrically heated room (hello technology). It is used in a variety of world cuisines - Jamaican, Portuguese, Brazilian, Spanish dishes… The Norwegians are famous for exporting it. 

Of course, being in a small village it appears my options are limited in terms of getting a variety of fresh fish, which is a big part of Norwegian cuisine. If you go to other coastal cities (Sandefjord, Trondheim, Bergen, Oslo, etc.)  I'm sure there is more to choose from. So far, it appears that Norwegian cuisine, like many others I have tried, is based first on the fundamental fresh foods found or farmed here in nature - the fish, berries  (we picked wild blueberries on our hike up the mountain), plants, animals that appear and then altered slightly (cured meat, or dried fish), then put into dishes. As with any culture that is lifted up economically, many more creative versions of traditional cuisine appear, and I'm certain I will run into those as I branch out to other locations. 

For now, I'm content having my summery open-faced sandwiches for lunch - smoked Mackerel with pepper and chili flakes with tomato, or salmon with fresh goat cheese and cucumber, dill on top, shrimp sandwich, etc. - a good break from songwriting, indeed. Above all the big message staying here has been NATURE - soak it in. Get outside - breathe the fresh air, eat the fresh food around you and enjoy the glorious view. Heaven I tell you. :)

fertilizer

boring post--just to record that I fertilized the rest of the garden today: peppers, eggplant, roses, etc. Everything I missed last week.

The last Cherokee Purple of the first harvest are ripening on the vine. I've nicknamed one of them Baby Jesus. It's fabulous.

Fjords, Farming and a few bites..

So here I am, plunked down in a little village in Norway called Åndalsnes. I'm here to spend the month with my wonderful man before heading on to Copenhagen to perform in the Songwriter Festival - more good people and music ahead - YAY! In the mean time, I'm enjoying the iconic fjord landscape while scouting out local eats and naturally grown fruits and veggies.

Where, in the HECK, you might ask, is Åndalsnes? I'm sure most of you have heard of the Norwegian Fjords - spectacular mountain walls that tower over waterways running for miles from sea to the valley mainland…. Right? If you haven't, here's a picture to give you an idea of what this looks like - we went to nearby fjords (Geirangerfjorden for one) just the other day to soak some of this in.

Geirangerfjorden 

Åndalsnes is one of the administrative capitals in the Northwestern region of Norway (specifically, the Rauma valley).  It's like Lord of the Rings all over again, here. The sheer size of the walls on these mountains is sublime - there's just no other word for the reaction they produce. It's been almost always chilly since I've arrived - somewhere between 50 and 70 degrees - on really warm days, it may reach 75 Fahrenheit, and this is the summer time.. During the winter it is colder and there is plenty of snow.

Let's get back to food - that's why I am writing, n'est pas? While I was on the boat traveling through one of these fjords, the loudspeaker caught my attention - there were small FARMS on these incredibly steep mountain walls. See picture below - that tiny white house is a FARM on the mountain - you can also see the slight field below the house. I got dizzy just looking at the way the houses were resting on a slant.. One story told of a farmer that grew apricots and apples, others had sheep, goats and some cattle for dairy. I'm still in disbelief. Most farms were abandoned in the late 1950s. Living circumstances could not have been easy and were most definitely isolated.

Family Farm on Fjord Wall

Interestingly enough, these mountains are warm enough to grow fruit and not so cold that you can't farm a bit. Cascading fresh glacier water abundantly falls from the mountain walls and flows down the hillsides into the valleys. While contemplating steep hill farms and family clashes within them, I had lunch, which consisted of sheep + goat sausage, accompanied by potato salad and mustard. The sausage was quite strong - earthy in flavor, but balanced out by the sides and mustard (which was slightly sweet). I will try it again before leaving the country :)..

Sheep and Goat Sausage with potato salad

More abundantly grown (and farmed) in the Rauma valley these days (closer to Andalsnes) are potatoes, strawberries (we found some wild ones growing right by the road - see pic below), blueberries (which also grow wild in the forest mountains we went biking through), rhubarb, and most likely others that I haven't come across. Right now I'm just reporting on what I see around me.

Wild Strawberries growing on the mountain trail to Trollstigen

Also well known is the abundance of fresh salmon - which they do also farm in this region (I witnessed one on the way to a nearby village yesterday) and catch wild here as well. The salmon supply has been somewhat depleted in the last two decades due to a virus infecting the fish - which they are trying to fight and restore to the area. Sea Trout have increased in numbers during this time, so there is plenty of that here for consumption.  The salmon here is incredible. I've been buying large quantities of it lightly smoked (lox) from the grocery store and devouring regularly. In the frozen food section you see whole fish vacuum-sealed - pollack, salmon, trout, etc. I will often make lunch with smoked mackerel and tomato on top of fresh bread - sooooo good. 

For now I'll leave you with a common Norwegian dessert/snack they have here, which I tried for the first time on the boat. Don't mind the spoon from my coffee in the background.. :) A slice or two of 'Brunost' - what some would call Norwegian Brown Cheese is stuffed within a folded-over pancake - the type we Americans eat for breakfast. 'Brunost' is basically caramelized goat cheese, which tastes slightly salty and very rich in flavor. A slice alone would be too much, but stuffed in a pancake it is DELICIOUS. 

Svele M  Brunost - Norwegian dessert

And heck, here's a picture of me - happy as a clam on the chilly boat through the fjords. More Norwegian food discoveries and cooking to come!

fertilized the out-of-control tomato plants

Yesterday I fertilized the tomato plants. There was much rejoicing. I also fertilized the peppers and the eggplant, yada yada yada.

I am not sure what to do with the tomato plants. They have all grown out of control. Top heavy, loaded with big fruit, gnarled and angry in some cases, distressingly tall in others. I've staked them all now, given that they destroyed the cages that I initially placed them in.

I don't know what to do. I want tomatoes to continue through October, but I am at a loss as to how to control these crazy vines. The harvest so far has been brilliant, so may it continue.

This is a huge platter, so imagine these tomatoes as fist to two-fist size...

New Yorker Wandering Abroad

I've lived in New York City as a songwriter and performer for 11 years - more specifically in the often-labeled 'hipster' neighborhood of Williamsburg (in Brooklyn). I am not a hipster, FYI - although some have accused me of this. If hipster means someone who creates their own sense of fashion and does not operate through the main-stream norm in terms of culture and lifestyle, then yes my friend, I am officially a hipster. I am NOT a yuppie-turned-ebay-vintage-designer-clothes-shopping asshole with no taste for quality and a bad haircut to impress their wanna-be lawyer friends (other definition for hipster created by jealous onseekers of the original 'hipster'). Nothing against lawyers or e-bay shoppers, of course - I am just trying to make a point. I hope it's coming across given my history with the neighborhood..

More preferably, I claim to be a 'New Yorker' - especially having lived through Bloomberg's term extension, the last major blackout (complete with all-night fire grilling on the sidewalk and little to no looting), so-called 'Hurricane Irene' (which ended up being a tropical storm), and the all-too-dark memory of September 11th - which good friends of mine witnessed up-close as I was on my way to move into the city. I was thankful I hadn't arrived yet...

New York is both a wonderful and depressing place - it's loud and exciting, lonely and cruel, colorful (both in personality and creativity) and diverse beyond any other city I've known in terms of sheer numbers (of different nationalities and cultures within a confined space). This all can be both thrilling and overwhelming when you are a newcomer, depending on how you handle yourself while in its grasp. Truly, all possibilities are on the table - complete with disaster or triumph at the end. I've most recently described New York as a wonderful lover but a terrible wife. You want it again and again, but it won't take care of you. You must always fight for the right to enjoy her and survive her at the same time.

But onto the next phase - my travels as a musician have recently taken me further East to Europe, where I will be for the next 6 months. Stops will include Norway, the U.K. (London), The Czech Republic, Germany, France, Switzerland, Denmark (Copenhagen), and potential others. Having lived in New York City with so many diverse food options, a person can get quite spoiled - in fact, down-right snobby about food. But as we all know, New York is a land of immigrants - of people from different cultures everywhere, bringing traditions with them to create their own version of whatever their imagination ignites. This is what makes it such a wonderful place. But the traditions come from everywhere else, not New York.

So my contribution to this blog will be as a wandering traveller exploring local cuisine wherever I land - attempting to make a few of those dishes and perhaps adding my own New York flair to things as I go. Music is what has brought me here, but being the hungry food-obsessed girl I am, this will be a project close to my heart as to eat good is to feel good, and in turn is to live well! Buon appetito!!

latent fertilizing

garden, west view (during rainstorm)

I unfortunately missed a post about my last fertilization, which occurred sometime before I left town on July 4. I'm waiting to fertilize again given the massive rains we have received this last week. The soil is soaked and soaking more every day. No extra water needed, and no need to dilute the fertilizer just yet.

Single Malts?

Caol Ila (pronounced: Cull Ila). Smoky and sea air. Artisanal.
Cardhu. Smooth and mellow speyside.
Glenkinchie.The last lowlands distillery. Light, fresh, and creamy.
Clynelish. Traces of smokiness (not hardcore like the islays). Highland distillery.
Dalwhinnie. Malty sweet clean taste.
Glen Elgin. Speyside. Sweet, honeyed, light. 
Glenkinchie. light. floral. blend?
Knockando. perfect balance. 
Lagavulin. peaty. peaty. peaty. Islay.

Fear and Loathing at Whole Foods

I don't shop in midtown Atlanta on principle. But I make three practical exceptions to this rule. Trader Joe's I will shop once every few months or as occasion demands. I visit Green's liquor whenever I need good bitters, a specific kind of liquor that I can't get at the Main Street Package, or I just happen to be in the area. And Whole Foods. It is invariably a special occasion that takes me to Whole Foods, or the need for a special product.

Such it was today. I was after tonic. Q Tonic, to be specific, and Whole Foods Midtown is one of the few places that carries it. Because I needed a few groceries, I chose Whole Foods over Tower Liquors on Memorial, which also carries Q.

Why do I want Q? Ever since the cocktail revolution ruined simple mixed drinks for me (I haven't had a bourbon and coke in over a year), I've been craving a decent gin and tonic, but cannot stomach any longer the swill that lives in supermarket aisles.

I hate shopping at Whole Foods. I should make this clear. I have nothing against the market itself, but I cannot stand Whole Foods Midtown. The bile rises as I curve eastward down Ponce in the perilously narrow lanes, dodging illegal left turners and schizophrenic pedestrians. The shopping center that houses Whole Foods is a testament to everything I tried to avoid when I chose my neighborhood in Atlanta. BMWs litter the lot. Bored shoppers in designer sunglasses walk obliviously. Everyone drives like they are late for an appointment, and common courtesy (like letting someone turn into traffic in the face of a line of SVUs) is ignored. My teeth are regularly clenched until I finally turn off my car.

Inside Whole Foods Midtown is queer. The market feels like most other Whole Foods markets around the country. The clientele is wealthy, hip, or cool, or some combination of the three. Gym built bodies, ankle tattoos, Ralph Loren Chinos, meticulously disheveled hair, immaculate makeup. The staff is unbelievably knowledgeable and helpful. The gentleman I asked to point me in the direction of Kalamata olives asked if I had seen the olive bar. This instantly made me picture martinis, but I must have shaken my head, because he touched my arm and said "you will LOVE it." When there were no Kalamata olives at the olive bar, he fetched three different brands in bottles for me to choose from.

It occurs to me at some point that my discomfort around so many beautiful people is unnatural. Or unreasonable. Or both. Or whatever. The point is, after collecting all the materials necessary to construct tabouli, shrimp for a Saturday cookout and various other supplies to get me through a week, I realized only after I paid and had put the groceries in the trunk that I had forgotten the Q Tonic. But because I will have gin and tonic this weekend, and because I made the goddamn trip anyway, I went back in.

Adobo Chicken, Philippines style

While searching for cooking instructions for adobo chicken, I came across this Philippino recipe, which I must try some time. Might be a good weekday chicken preparation--simple and quick. For instructions on crockpot cooking, check this site.

garden up!

The flowers on the Barbarella eggplant first bloom ...

... then swallow a grapefruit

Look ma, no suckers!

All in all not bad

Pollinators in a short bed

Did a few things today worth talking about.

1) I've begun really trimming off the suckers, especially from the bottom of the plant. This helps air circulation (apparently) and more importantly discourages bugs.

2) For what it's worth, the suckers on my Orange Blossom vine grew fruit. But now those low arms are hanging on the ground. And I found ants all over my Orange Blossoms. On one in particular. I knocked them off, but no telling what this means. I propped up both the lower branches to get them off the ground.

3) I planted two more perennials in my mailbox plot, both of which are supposed to fill out the bed and provide more flowers to attract pollinators. In addition, I moved another cutting of golden pineapple sage to the front, making three in all. They really do thrive, and should send up beautiful red flowers in the fall to attract the pollinators.