Earth Day

Out for a walk with my mother on the mother earth.

Acts of Creation

Acts of Creation
Aldo Leopold


Acts of creation are ordinarily reserved for gods and poets, but humbler folk may circumvent this restriction if they know how. To plant a pine, for example, one need be neither god nor poet; one need only own a good shovel. By virtue of this curious loophole in the rules, any clodhopper may say: Let there be a tree—and there will be one.
If his back be strong and his shovel sharp, there may eventually be ten thousand. And in the seventh year he may lean upon his shovel, and look upon his trees, and find them good.
God passed on his handiwork as early as the seventh day, but I notice He has since been rather noncommittal about its merits. I gather either that He spoke too soon, or that trees stand more looking upon than do fig leaves and firmaments.

Valentinos

I'm a sucker for any occasion when it is acceptable to load on extra kisses and sweets. Bring it.
This year my boys and I made candied orange peels and we ate so many yesterday that we were happy to give some away to teachers and friends today.

Recipe adapted from Canal House Cooking (of "It's Always Five O'Clock Somwhere" fame)

3-4 organic navel oranges, skins scrubbed under warm water
3 cups muscavado or turbinado organic sugar
1 vanilla bean
1 sprig fresh rosemary

Working with one orange at a time, slice the ends off the fruit, just exposing the flesh. Cut fat pieces of peel and pith- scrape off any flesh that gets on the pith.

Place peels in medium heavy pot with cold water and bring to a boil. Dump water. Repeat. Remove peels from the pot

Put 2 cups of sugar and 3 cups of water into the same pot and bring to a boil. Once sugar is dissolved, add orange peels, vanilla bean and rosemary.
Reduce heat and simmer until peels are soft and liquid is a thick syrup- about 2 hours.

Once they look good, remove them and put them on a drying rack to cool.
At this point you can leave them as they are or dredge them in sugar for a more traditional look and taste.

We went one more step and melted some good semi sweet chocolate (we used Valrhona but Sharfen berger rocks too) in a double boiler and dipped the ends once the peels were cool and hardened.

Eat or store in airtight container

Accordion

Maybe it's the Mayan Calendar thing, but this month has had a feeling of lift off or crash- or both at the same time. Tragedy, global weirding with no snow still on the ground, a restless desire for change, for a collective wake up and along side those- deep gratitude, love for humanity and the peace of quiet time with family. Hope is like an accordian that spans the gap of little wishes: that 2013 will be the year of kim chi and big ones: that semi automatic weapons will finally be outlawed in this country and that women around the world will have more rights, more dignity, more of a voice to shape culture and politics.
I play, I play and as Al Zolynas says- through all the cliches, may our spirits sing clearly.

Considering the Accordion by Al Zolynas

 "The idea of it is distasteful at best. Awkward box of wind, diminutive, misplaced piano on one side, raised Braille buttons on the other. The bellows, like some parody of breathing, like some medical apparatus from a Victorian sick-ward. A grotesque poem in three dimensions, a rococo thing-a-me-bob. I once strapped an accordion on my chest and right away I had to lean back on my heels, my chin in the air, my back arched like a bullfighter or flamenco dancer. I became an unheard of contradiction: a gypsy in graduate school. Ah, but for all that, we find evidence of the soul in the most unlikely places. Once in a Czech restaurant in Long Beach, an ancient accordionist came to our table and played the old favorites: "Lady of Spain," " The Saber Dance," "Dark Eyes," and through all the clichÈs his spirit sang clearly. It seemed like the accordion floated in air, and he swayed weightlessly behind it, eyes closed, back in Prague or some lost village of his childhood. For a moment we all floated--the whole restaurant: the patrons, the knives and forks, the wine, the sacrificed fish on plates. Everything was pure and eternal, fragiley suspended like a stained-glass window in the one remaining wall of a bombed out church."

California

California. Always inspires me to harvest, experiment, cook, can, brine and of course, to eat. We had a sweet family visit in Sonoma- long lunches, swimming, chatting and resting. Next time, we will actually pick some of those olives from the tree and try brining them ourselves. I like this tutorial- for you Cali peeps- do it for me! http://honest-food.net/2009/10/11/how-to-cure-green-olives/ /

New Home

It is amazing, but it seems that a kitty, some unpacked dishes and making some walnut pesto will make a new house into a home. Settling in and feeling good. Our new neighbors include young buck deer, lots of magpies, hummingbirds and crawfish in our little stream.

Basil Walnut Pesto Ingredients: 1/2 cup walnut halves 2 cups fresh basil leaves 2 large garlic cloves, peeled and coarsely chopped 1/4 cup freshly grated pecorino romano, parm or other hard cheese of choice 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste Directions: Place walnut halves in the bowl of a food processor. Process until finely chopped. Add in the basil leaves and garlic cloves. Pulse until incorporated and no large pieces of garlic remain. Pulse in the grated cheese. With the lid on and motor running, stream in the olive oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper.