Some like it hot, and I’m starting to see why

daphne on December 29, 2008

Some do like it hot. Like my friend Kelcey over at Mama Bird Diaries, who shivers her way through the snow by dreaming of sweltering Augusts and painting her toenails, hailstorms be damned.

Not me.  Maybe it’s my Minnesota roots, but I like it when a blast of brisk air demands I throw on an extra sweater.  I even get kind of whiny when the summer heat hits sweltering.  But lately frigid temperatures are making it hard to remember just what was so bad about those toasty warm days after all. With temps plummeting below zero parenting gems come pouring out of me.  I’m saying things like “human-beings cannot function this far below freezing,” and “Danger! Your skin will crack away from your skull if you dare take that hat off again.”  I do think the children are enjoying my take on this big chill.

Though I have been transformed into the abominable grinch, there remain two types able to smile despite the precipitous drops in mercury.  Brave children that have been promised a hot cocoa in lieu of lunch,

…and my brother, the sherpa, whom said children conned into dragging them back up the sledding hill during the five minutes I relented and allowed exposure to the harsh elements.

Last winter I had it all going on.  The garden put out enough squash to keep me in butternut squash soup through the first 10 snows, even though those 2007 snows arrived well before December.  For cold to the bone, there is nothing better than this bright orange steaming soup, heaped high with cheese and apples so the focus is hearty, not healthy. (Ok, it does get a low-fat, healthy kiss if you just say no to the cheese.)

Without the squash around to keep me cozy, I give thanks for the gift I gave myself, the amazing cookbook Artisan Bread in Five.  Confident now with cookbook in hand, I’m not letting a little thing like a magnificent failure in the bread baking department keep me away from a hot oven.  The first few loaves were more lumpy than lovely, but tasty all the same.   We made this one…

And this one too…

But these whole wheat loaves only call for a 350° oven, and I was looking for a little more heat in the kitchen, if you know what I mean, wink-wink.  (Ok, no, I’m kidding. Not that kind of heat. This was a family-friendly baking project.)

So we cranked that puppy up to 450° and look!

Gorgeous baguettes hot from the oven.  Crusty.  And hot.  And ooo-la-la, look at me!  I’m sipping cafe au lait in gay Paris.  I’m dipping my toes in the aqua waters of the French Riviera.

Or maybe I’m shmearing a warm piece of homemade bread with peanut butter and jelly.  But my toes, oui, they are starting to defrost.

Talkin’ Trash

daphne on December 24, 2008

This guy loves trash.  And he’s not just talking trash, he’s collecting it.

Bizarre, right? Why would someone save their trash for an entire year?  Perhaps he’s looking to usurp Oscar the Grouch.  Or maybe he’s making a point.  His point?  We don’t have to be nation of garbage-addicts.

In a fit of procrastination I came across this news story, which chronicles the year during which Dave Chameides and his family saved every last piece of trash that they accumulated.  Biodegradables were composted, but recyclables and straight-up garbage was stacked and stored.  He’s got the pictures, in which his trash is more organized and orderly than the bookshelves in my living room.  I’ve got to think that there are a number of lessons to be learned in facing down, all at once, a year’s worth of wine bottles consumed, shoe boxes purchased, and hard plastic wraps wrestled from birthday gifts or beading kits.  It would be humbling.

Or, as Dave explains, it would stepping up and taking responsibility.  Which he did in a big way when he carted his vacation-based refuge home with him.   This guy is committed, or should be committed.  Either way, there’s a lesson there.

He stored his collection in the basement. His wife had to be grateful that the family created nowhere near the American average of 1600 pounds of trash, and not just because it earns them some serious eco-bragging rights.

When it comes to eco-bragging, I won’t be doing much for a while.  Sure, we’ve done well by ridding ourselves of the paper goods. Gone are the plastic grocery bags.  But I’m lugging around some guilt regarding my silence during the recent spate of holiday parties at the elementary school.

I sat, and I kept quiet as convenience won out over consciousness. Scores of ubiquitous water bottles filled the classroom, enough for every child, sibling and parent to drink his weight in water during an hour-long party.  And so, inspired by “Sustainable Dave,” I hereby promise to stand up (or at least sit down and send off a fiery email) suggesting we use pitchers for school parties next year.

It’s a little crusade, but I’m making it mine.

Check out Dave’s site 365 solutions for some great tips on cutting down on household trash. Just promise to send me a picture if you decide to knit a sweater from shed dog hair.

The Mighty Mushroom

daphne on December 16, 2008

It was bound to happen.  Word gets out that you plant a couple of vegetables and before you know it the postman arrives bearing mushroom logs and shitake spawn.   Think that sounds scary? It looks even worse–

This organically zany gift arrived from my sister via this gourmet mushroom site.  The gourmet mushroom site offers interesting products, like mushroom plug spawn and log inoculation.  It does not offer anywhere near the number of references to poison that I happened upon while researching mushrooms this past summer.

And what had me rushing to google for mushroom facts this summer?  Grandpa Mikey.  Grandpa Mikey was playing with the children in the backyard when he discovered a plethora of wild mushrooms.  Yummy!  Never mind that until this day we referred to those vegetative gems as Toadstools of Doom.  Forget too that I had convinced the girls they’d be turned into warty newts if they dared touch the forbidden fungi.

All was well with the princesses. Harmony ruled the land with the division between poison and not poison firmly drawn in the dirt.  And then along comes Grandpa claiming that yes, perhaps they were poisonous.  But maybe, just maybe, they weren’t.  It had all the ingredients for a fun little homespun experiment: nature, science, plus the very real possibility of death.  Thunderbolts clapped and lightening shattered the peaceful little village…

Ok, the sun stayed put and the girls got down to experimenting with their beloved Professor Grandpa. First up, harvest the tasty treats. Next gill-print the ‘shrooms.  I was away from the lab when Grandpa said what came next, but I think once you’ve got the prints you just cross-reference them in the fungal offenders’ data base, then book ’em.

Assistant Mushroom-ologist Grandma snapped these shots for posterity (or maybe for poison-control? That Grandma is always prepared.)

While the science was bubbling away, I snuck off to google poisonous mushrooms.  Here are some delightful phrases that I encountered:

  • Wild mushrooms may contain one of the deadliest poisons found in nature;
  • Because (these) mushrooms have definitely caused death, we cannot recommend that you eat them.
  • If you nevertheless choose to do so, they should be thoroughly cooked in a well-ventilated room.

I wish I were so totally cool and open-minded that I could issue a stern warning of death, and then move right on to cooking tips.  Alas, I am dull. Or am I…?  Go ahead and try this recipe for KILLER pumpkin muffins…If. You. Dare.  Insert evil laugh here.)

Note:  A Greener Biener does not release any recipes that may or may not cause sudden death.

In defense of (not eating) food

daphne on December 10, 2008

This is Kira’s plea against eating turkey.  She can offer up a defense for not eating just about anything.  She says she wants to be a vegetarian.  What she means is that she wants to be a pasta-candy-dessert-atarian.  Not that I blame her.  I too am partial to a diet that leans heavily on the most vital layer in the food pyramid: the chocolate one. I don’t know what you’ve heard, but just because I’ve got the computer set up in the kitchen doesn’t mean that I’m to blame for the pan of brownies that mysteriously disappeared this week.

Some of you may recognize the blatant plagiarism creative adapting I’ve done in the title of this piece as coming from Michael Pollan’s book, In Defense of Food.  Like the Kingsolver book I mentioned last week, it’s a must-read.  Food needs defending, Pollan claims, because much of what we eat today is actually not food, but “edible, foodlike substances.”  Real food he defines as something that “our great grandmothers would recognize as food.”  I concur 100%, and not just because both of my grandmothers were big fans of baked goods.  Most food labels these days read like War and Peace, and with a couple of kids in tow that’s just too much literature to consume in the bread aisle.

Yes, another book.  What–you didn’t know this blog came with a required reading list? Oh relax, there’s not going to be a test.  For all I know you’re not even looking for a fearless food defender.  Maybe this guy is already working for you–

It’s a bird. It’s a plane. It’s….Carrot-Man! He’s the strong, silent, food defending-type. Be warned though; his shtick relies heavily on pushing the veggies.  (Note to self: Consider getting out more.  Or at least getting the camera out of the kitchen.)

Michael Pollan said that after researching and writing his book his point could be boiled down into a few short sentences: Eat food. Not too much. Mostly plants.

It’s a worthy philosophy. I’d add only this: Brownies too.

Breaking the rules

daphne on December 7, 2008

Here’s the thing, sometimes a choice can feel so good, so right, and not actually be that good.  Like s’mores.  Yummy hot roasted marshmallows (read: corn syrup globules) melted on chocolate smeared on graham crackers.  Nutritionally they are inexcusable.  But in terms of happy children you’d be hard pressed to get a better bang for your calories.  It’s more than just hopped-up sugar fiends; it’s sitting around a fire, it’s laughing, it’s being together in that sugar-coated moment.  A family that binges on chocolate together, stays together. So says I, anyway.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not shirking from the Herculean task of doing right by my children.  Broccoli and beans are a vital part of healthy development.  I’m just saying that there are defensible reasons for breaking a rule every now and then.  One, I need my treats.  Two, it’s fun to keep the kids guessing.

Our family has packed up campfires, and so go the s’mores for the season.  But as outside fires die down the heat of the oven kicks up.  We haven’t let the spectacular exploding bread caper deter us from throwing things around the kitchen.  This weekend, inspired by the wonderful book I just read, we made brownies.  And when I say brownies I do not mean the same brownie recipe, that dependable and foolproof recipe that I’ve been making since I was 12.  I mean these incredible brownies.  We made them for guests that got sick and canceled.  Our brave family of four heeded the call.  And ate the decadent brownies ourselves.

Sometimes going green means eating your veggies.  And sometimes going green means letting the flour leave poofy trails on the floor and on your cheeks.  It means letting the little ones lick the bowl.  And sometimes success is measured not in grams of fat or molecules of vitamins, but in globs of chocolate shmeared on smiling faces.

Ruth’s Amazing Brownies

daphne on December 7, 2008

Adapted from Ruth Reichle’s recipe, from her book Tender at the Bone.

2/3 cup butter
5 oz unsweetened chocolate
2 teaspoons vanilla
4 eggs
½ teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
1 cup sifted flour (add 1 Tbls for high altitude)

Preheat oven to 400°.

Melt the butter and chocolate in a double boiler.  Remove from heat, add vanilla and set aside

Beat eggs and salt.  Add the sugar and beat at high speed until white (about 5 minutes.)

Add chocolate and butter mixture to the eggs and beat on low until just mixed.

Add flour and mix until just combined.

Pour into greased and floured 9X13 (or so) pan and put in oven.

Immediately reduce heat to 350°.  Bake for about 35 minutes (toothpick should not come out clean.)

Gotta go for the garlic

daphne on December 4, 2008

You know how it goes, your spend your whole life without a particular nugget of knowledge, and then suddenly there it is; everyone is talking about it everywhere you go. Lately, that’s how it’s been with me and garlic.  I love having garlic on my team.  I use it indiscriminately–always starting out with a little of it simmering softly in some olive oil, and regardless of where I end up my kitchen smells like I mean business.  Like I know what I am doing.  But the buzz I’m hearing says that cooking with garlic is not the end all be all. The universe has been badgering me with a different message:

You can grow garlic.

What? Grow garlic? Now I know that garlic doesn’t arrive on this planet neatly pulverized in glass jars. But truth be told I never gave any thought to how it grew.  Until recently that is, when the universe became bent on converting me into a garden garlic maven.

The latest hint I received by way of a new magazine called the Edible Front Range. It’s a cool new freebie that focuses on the local food movement.  And guess what? They’re talking about planting garlic.

Most of what I’ve been hearing revolves around this one fact: you plant garlic in the fall.  Hey Universe, know what? It’s December. Maybe that’s why I’ve been so deftly ignoring your hints.  Ok, maybe the first whisper about planting garlic arrived before the first frost, but hey, I was still preening about my revolutionary day spent planting tulip bulbs. My thoughts were dancing with the colorful, not the culinary.

Looking out over my computer into a white blanketed yard, I can safely entertain ideas of growing garlic without actually having to put spade to frozen tundra.  I know this, thanks to a fact I unearthed in that cute new magazine. Procrastinators delight,  garlic can be planted in the spring too.

And so it shall be…

But spring is a long way off, and I’ve got garlic on my mind now.  So here’s what I’m thinking: the last of the CSA garlic sure would be tasty roasted up and slathered the next loaf of homemade bread. The one I’ll be baking just as soon as my copy of Artisan Bread in Five Minutes arrives.