Category Archives: Food

Suburban gardening

Lali wrote a post about Wendell Berry whom she calls  “the guru of the sustainability movement”. I know nothing about Berry, but her post got me thinking…

My parents have had a garden in their backyard since the summer I first went to England. I remember it was that summer because, in order to remove the shade it caused, they cut down the apple tree (which I’d named Charley)  in whose branches I’d spent many summer days. There is still a garden in the backyard of my folks house, but neither my mom nor dad tend it anymore. A friend of my mom (who turns 80 this year) planted tomatoes, lettuce, beans, and many other vegetables in the garden. The deal is that, instead of charging the friend for use of the land, mom can pick what she needs from the garden.

We used to try to grow vegetables, but our yard is too shady. Next year we’re going to plant outside the fence in raised beds — after we cut down the Siberian elm the kids used to climb (but didn’t name). It was a volunteer and has been oozing some sort of slime for about 5 years. I won’t feel guilty cutting it down.

I do grow herbs though — they are not quite as  picky as vegetables are about how many hours they spend in direct sunlight. I always have basil, thyme and rosemary. This year I’m also growing licorice mint that was given to me by a neighbor, dill and Thai (or Holy) basil.

This year my friend, Alison, gave me a tomato plant she grew from seeds she’d harvested from tomatoes of an unmarked variety her son brought home from his job at a local plant nursery. I planted it in a small container, then moved it to a much larger one a few weeks later. The move broke the branch that the one tomato was on, but the rest of the plant was okay. The tomato ripened, possibly knowing its food supply was about to dry up, and Clare and I shared it one afternoon as part of a caprese sandwich.

I really don’t know where I was going in this post — I started it over a week ago.  It began as a comment on Lali’s post, but would have been too long.

Anyway — happy summer.

Groningse Mustard Soup

Back in December one of my Facebook and Twitter friends — a birdwatcher from The Netherlands — posted that she was going to have Mustard Soup for lunch. After a bit of discussion where I expressed disbelief, then awe, she posted a recipe and when I wondered where to find Groninger Mustard she offered to send me a jar and I accepted (and offered to send her a local spice in exchange — she chose Old Bay seasoning).

Before too long I received not one, but two jars of Groninger Mustard and set them aside until after wrestling season when we could enjoy the fat and calories with Andrew.

One day, a couple of weeks ago I purchased the ingredients for the soup and followed a recipe I found online (I’d lost the link that my friend sent, but assumed all recipes would be similar).

I was sure that I was going to love this soup, it sounded so delicious (mustard, bacon, cream — what’s not to love?) and even took a series of photos while preparing it à la The Pioneer Woman.

I know enough about cooking to become concerned when I saw how much flour in relationship to how much fat was in the recipe — of course I didn’t thoroughly read the recipe before I was well into making the soup (that would have been the prudent thing to do) — but plowed ahead anyway. I also knew, as I was pouring in the cream that I had not cooked the roux enough and that the soup would taste floury.

While the soup was lovely to look at, especially sprinkled with newly sprouted chives from our herb garden, it tasted more like it should have been the base for biscuits and gravy (a dish I dislike) instead of the delicate cream soup I’d envisioned.

I’m going to assume I used the wrong recipe and undercooked the roux and maybe try again sometime. We still have a jar and a half of Groninger Mustard left. I sent a FB message to my Dutch friend, asking her if it was supposed to be so thick, but she didn’t respond. She may have overlooked the message; she has a lot of friends. Either that or I insulted her by not liking the soup. Nah — Not Gwen.

Noodles on a snowy weekend

Noodles drying on pans
Home Made Noodles

I remember walking into my mom’s kitchen once and seeing bowl after bowl edged with drying noodles. She explained that she was making homemade noodles for dinner. Her friend, Joan, taught her how*. I thought it was weird since store-bought noodles were not that expensive and had to be easier than making one’s own. After eating the noodles made by my mom I realized that home-made noodles were better than store-bought and maybe even worth the trouble.

I don’t know how many more times mom made noodles, but the memory of the taste and texture of those noodles stayed with me for a long time. I always looked for the thickest noodles at the store when I was planning on making something that involved noodles. I did find some nearly perfect noodles at a specialty store, but have not been able to find them since that first time.

So a few months ago I made a dish that called for noodles. I didn’t have any in the house (or perhaps the flour bugs got into them and I had to toss them) and didn’t want to go to the store, so I looked up noodle recipes online. I found a few, but nothing looked like the noodles my mom made. I could have called her, but thought she might not remember the recipe. Anyway, I finally found a recipe that looked about right — and it was delicious. (I added 1 tsp of dried thyme to give the noodles more flavor).

I made the noodles again last weekend during one of the snowstorms and Dean made Beef Burgundy. We’re still eating it since he made a double batch, mistakenly thinking Andrew and his friends were going to stay for dinner. (I didn’t think they would — since beef stew, even by another name, tastes the same to teenage boys).

Anyway, try the recipe sometime. We’ve had it with beef stew and with chicken soup. Both were very yummy.

*Joan also taught my mom how to make sausage, but I’m not interested in anything that has to do with pig intestines