Cooking Under Pressure

For years, I'd read  and heard about using a pressure cooker to can foods and speed  up the cooking process but had always been afraid to  try it myself.  I had visions of  explosions of green beans and  beef stew splattering the ceilings and  blowing out the  kitchen windows! I had a water bath canner for making pickles and jams and for canning tomatoes and saw no need for a dangerous  pressure canner with its dire warnings about seals and gaskets, valves and pressure settings. One Christmas, Mr. G  even bought me a lovely All American pressure canner with dials and valves but  no intimidating gasket, with the idea that I  could can  green beans and other veggies from the  garden and farmer's market and  put up  jars of chicken stock. I was unconvinced.  That canner has   been sitting, unused,  in its box on a shelf in the basement for several years now.

But then a  year or so ago, I read about  electric pressure cookers, and for some reason, they, with their friendly  digital displays and blinking lights, didn't scare me as much.  So  I bought one, and , with instruction/recipe booklet in hand,  made  one of the  tenderest,  most delicious beef pot roasts we have ever eaten! And in  less than an hour, from start to finish, WITHOUT blowing up the house!. I was hooked! Since then I've cooked soups, stews, chowders,  short ribs, pork chops, chicken with dumplings and many other dishes and have plans  to try out  many other recipes, including cheesecakes and other desserts.

My latest "meal under pressure"  was Sausages with Onions and Peppers, adapted from the Cuisinart  recipe booklet that came with the cooker. This calls for the following ingredients for  4 servings:
 4-6 oz.  Bucatini Pasta or other pasta, cooked according to  directions on package.
1 Tbsp. Olive Oil
1-19 oz. package of Italian sausages,  each cut into three sections (I used Johnsonville Mild  Italian sausages)
2  small to medium green bell peppers and 1 red bell pepper, seeded and  sliced into rings.
 1 large sweet onion,  cut into vertical slices
2 cloves of garlic, peeled and chopped
1/2 Tbsp Italian herb blend
1/2 cup  organic chicken broth or stock
salt & pepper to taste

Cook pasta according to directions on package.

Add olive oil to cooking pot of pressure cooker. Select browning and when  oil is hot, add sausages, being careful not to overcrowd.  If necessary, cook sausages in batches and remove to a plate as each batch is browned. Cook until brown on all sides, about 3-5 minutes.

Add peppers, onions, garlic and Italian seasoning  to pot and stir for 2-3 minutes.

 Stir in chicken stock and cook for   one minute. Return the sausages and any accumulated juices back to the pot and stir gently to mix  in with the other ingredients.

 Cover with the lid and lock the lid in place.  Cook at high pressure for 4 minutes.

 Use  quick pressure release to release pressure and remove lid carefully, allowing steam to disperse.  Season with salt and pepper to taste. Keep warm with lid off until ready to serve.

Serve over  pasta.  Enjoy!

I'm gonna go fishing and catch me a trout

  "...trout that doesn't think two jumps and several runs ahead of the average fisherman is mighty apt to get fried."  ~Beatrice Cook, Till Fish Do Us Part, 1949

Mr. G and I are lucky to live fairly close to  the Sipsey Fork of the Black Warrior River, where the tailwaters below Smith Dam  stay cold enough year-round to support the rainbow trout that have been stocked there regularly since 1974. 

Here's a pic   of our daughter fly casting on the Sipsey when she came  home for a visit last February. 

 
She and Mr. G did manage to catch a few trout then, but trout fishing hasn't been  very good for the last few months because the power company turbines have been running full blast making fishing  difficult, but when Mr. G read that the turbines were going to be off one day last week, he decided to  brave the chilly weather and head for the Sipsey. 

Despite the  cold he had a very good day.  He released most of the fish he caught, but  brought five  (the creel limit) nice trout  home and set about cleaning them.
  He usually butterflies them, removing the  backbone and most of the rib bones, but leaving the skin on. Butterflied  this way, they can be stuffed, baked,  or  pan fried. 
 I decided to  pan fry these. Here's how I do it: I  prefer not to have them stare at me, so  usually  cook them without the heads, but that's a personal preference. First, rinse the fish, then dry them thoroughly to prevent  the formation of steam as they cook. If you have  some clarified butter or ghee on hand, use that; if not, use  regular butter tempered with a little olive oil and heat over medium high heat  until the butter foam begins to subside. Just before  putting the  fish in the pan, I  dredge them in a mixture of  wheat flour and corn flour seasoned with salt and pepper. I prefer  corn flour rather than the coarser corn meal as the fish seem to need less cooking time and turn a beautiful golden brown without being  crunchy. Cook, turning once until both sides are golden brown and the  flesh is cooked through. Most directions say to cook fish until it flakes, but I agree with Julia Child, who said,  “if the fish flakes, it is overdone.” Rather, cook it  until the fish is "springy." You can test this by  pressing it with your figer, but this can be hazardous unless you have asbestos fingertips, so  you might want to gently stick a fork in the fish.  If the flesh is nearly opaque and the flesh separates easily, it is done. Cooking time varies depending on the size of the fish and your stove, but usually takes about four to six minutes per side. 

If you 'd like  some blues music while you enjoy  your delicious fish, here's Dr. John singing "I'm Gonna Go Fishing" Enjoy!.

From Cream to Butter Without Fear

"If you're afraid of butter, use cream." -Julia Child

 I had a half gallon of heavy cream that needed to be used up, so decided it was time to make butter. We buy  milk and heavy cream from  Working Cows Dairy,  an organic dairy farm in Slocomb, Alabama.  The milk and cream from Working Cows is pasteurized, but not ultra-pasteurized, which makes it perfect for making butter, cheese and yogurt.

When I first began making butter, I used  a stand mixer.  That worked well, but was a little messy at times.  Now I use  my food processor- less mess and  much faster.  Here are some pics to show  how it works:

First I  let the cream set out until it reaches room temperature.  Cold cream straight from the fridge  takes forever to break (more about that later) but  if you begin with  room temp cream, it takes less time, which means less wear on your machine's motor.

Next, it goes in the processor.  I keep a separate processor bowl  that I use exclusively for butter, in case  some stray garlic, onion or other smells have managed to work their way  into the  plastic bowl I  keep for general food preparation.

Put the lid on and begin processing.  At first the cream will whip up into a stiff cream:

Then it will begin to form some cracks:

Keep going.  You'll hear a different sound  as the cream begins to "break" or separate. Notice that the cream is  getting yellow and  looks  sort of  curdled, but this is how it's supposed to look:  Process a little more- we're almost there.

Very quickly, you'll  see  that the solids have separated from the liquids- now you have butter and buttermilk!

Let it run until  you have  good separation, then pour off the buttermilk.  I usually squeeze the solids against the side of the bowl to get as much liquid out as possible.  Now you have  buttermilk to use in baking, pancakes or whatever. This is not like the cultured buttermilk you get in the grocery store- it's more watery, with  lovely little bits of butter floating in it. It tastes pretty good just as it is, but I've heard of people sprinkling a little pepper on it before drinking it.

 Now we need to rinse the butter to remove any remaining buttermilk. This helps keep the butter from going rancid quickly. Pour some ice water into the bowl with the butter and process. Pour off the water, add more ice water and pulse a few times.  Repeat this process until the water is clear:

At this point, I pour off the water, squeezing the butter against the bowl, then turn the butter out onto a flat surface covered with  wax paper .  I don't have butter molds or paddles, so I continue to press the butter with spatulas until I've gotten out as much liquid as I can.  At this point you could knead in a little salt, if you prefer salted butter. I don't add salt to mine, since we prefer unsalted butter:

I divide up the butter into 4 oz. segments, form each segment into a stick.  The butter that won't be used right away gets wrapped in freezer paper and goes in the freezer.

And that's all there is to it. Lovely fresh butter from organic cream.



 

Some may dream of a White Christmas, but I. . .

With my heart pounding so hard it scared me, mouth dry as cotton, and feeling totally disoriented in the dark, I reached for the clock: 3:24 AM. I had just awakened from another dream. You know the kind of dream -- or maybe you’re lucky enough not to know. The kind of dream where you find yourself in such a dire situation that if you don’t wake up right now, you’ll never wake up to life as you now know it.


This particular dream had to do with my trying to photograph a mother tiger and her cubs. I had sneaked up close enough to get a good shot of the mother, but couldn’t see her cubs. I began to ease closer when the ground under me began to shake. There, in the woods just beyond where the mother tiger stood, was the biggest elephant I had ever seen! It was not a happy elephant. I thought maybe it planned to charge the tiger, but the tiger suddenly disappeared. The elephant caught sight of me. As it charged straight for me, I took off running. I could feel him gaining on me. Heart  pounding, I could hardly breathe. I saw a hill ahead and wondered if I could make it to the top. As I started up the hill, my legs felt like lead; an awful dread enveloped me and I knew I was a goner. Then I woke up.

Was it the ice cream and gingersnaps I’d eaten just before going to bed? Why tigers and elephants? Was it a delayed reaction to the Auburn-Alabama game last week-end? All I know is, it’s a good thing I woke up when I did or that elephant would have trampled me to death in the woods, or chased me right through the gates of hell. I’m still mad that the elephant ran off the mother tiger before I could find and photograph the cubs, though. And what did I do with my camera? Seems I can’t keep from losing stuff, even in my dreams.

Roosterhens are political animals

I just got into a debate with a friend of a different political persuasion, who was taunting me about the “shellacking" the Democrats and Obama  and his anti-business policies  took at the polls on Tuesday. I know the press, pundits, politicians and President Obama himself are calling it a shellacking, but I'm not sure that's what it was. We did lose some good people in the House, but we also lost a lot of Blue Dog Democrats, who were actually more Dixiecrats than Democrats anyway, and who voted mostly with the Republicans, so that's more a loss for the Republicans than for the Democrats.  And there's no guarantee that the Tea Party candidates will fall into lock-step with the Republican leadership at this point. I think both parties and the country at large may be in for a rocky ride.

As for Obama being anti-business, that's a really popular charge with  the conservative radio and TV personalities, the conservative blogs, etc. but if this administration is SO anti-business, how do you explain 1st quarter corporate profits of 1.37 trillion, and companies sitting on over 2 trillion in cash reserves. Google "3rd quarter corporate profits" and you'll find business after business reporting pretty decent profits. They’d have a hard time making all that profit if the administration was as anti-business as it made out to be. And on the other hand, the administration is charged with bailing out banks and business at the expense of the American taxpayer. So which is it? Are they  anti-business or are they  so pro business they're bailing them out? You can’t have it both ways.

What is unfortunate is that while the corporations are turning a profit, they aren't hiring, they're sitting on their cash reserves. So the average American isn't seeing him or herself as part of any economic recovery. Still struggling, often having a mortgage that's underwater, faced with increased costs, no job or no job security, decreasing wages, worrying how they're going to pay their bills or educate their children and having little money to spend, they're seeing CEOs awarded big salaries and big bonuses on Wall Street and in Corporate headquarters around the country. Meanwhile, the economy on Main Street in their neighborhood is at a stand-still, and people are angry. The Republicans and conservatives are extremely adept at exploiting that anger so that it is directed at the other side. And since far too many Americans today have slipped into a state of intellectual laziness, perhaps brought about by the constant stress they're under, they are only too willing to accept whatever cheap tale is sold to them by the slickest salesman. They seem unable or unwilling to question the information with which they are constantly bombarded, and unable or unwilling to filter out the wheat from the chaff. The widespread acceptance of the India Trip Costs are a prime example- the figures were broadcast as true far and wide before anybody felt the need to question information from a single anonymous source. That attitude is what swept a lot of seemingly unqualified candidates to power this week. It saddens, maddens and worries me greatly. I am confident that the American people are resilient enough and smart enough to pull out of this mess with little lasting damage, if they wake up soon enough. And if that sounded like intellectual elitism, so be it. Intellectualism and intelligence,  like  liberalism,  have been given a bad name lately, but they are a threat only to those who seek to confuse and subjugate people to their own ends.

Redistibution of Wealth- I'm confused

Today’s newspaper contained a column written by Tom Scarritt, editor of the very conservative Birmingham News. He was commenting on a recent debate  between the candidates running for governor of Alabama, Robert Bentley and Ron Sparks. Sparks is in favor of a lottery to fund scholarships in the state; Bentley is opposed.


Here’s an excerpt for that column: “…remember government has no resources except what it takes from us. There is no such thing as government funding; there is only the redistribution of your money and mine.”

Statements like that irritate me. Terms like “takes from us” and “redistribution of your money and mine” have become catch-phrases of the right, implying that we, the taxpayers derive no personal benefit from government: that our money is spent solely to take from the rich and give to the poor. Such statements don’t seem to take into account that often when we leave our homes (many of which were bought with insurance backing from the federal government) to drive our children on roads funded in part by the federal government, to schools that receive federal funds, we do so without thought to the services our taxes are providing to US and our families. We have roads, schools, libraries, hospitals, small business loans, insured bank accounts, police and fire protection and a number of other benefits paid for by our taxes. So when it comes to taxes why do we continue to hear people using terms like “redistribution of wealth” as though the only people to benefit are people other than ourselves? We are paying for valuable services for us and our fellow citizens so that we all benefit.

On the other hand, in the marketplace, when we pay money for a product and/or service, the price has been marked up to cover not only the cost of the product or service, but the costs associated with the sale and marketing of that product/service, plus a salary for the owners and a return to the shareholders who invested in that product or service. We are paying more than the actual cost of what we’re  receiving. I don’t have a problem with that, as long as the mark-up and profit margin are reasonable. For years businesses told us they weren’t able to make a profit because labor costs were too high, so they laid off their labor force, moved their operations elsewhere and boasted how much less their production costs were now. But for some reason, prices didn’t go down- we ended up paying even more for many products (unless we shopped at WalMart, which is the subject of another blog, later). So it turns out we were paying to cover not only the necessary and reasonable costs of providing the product, but also to pay large dividends to stockholders and obscenely large salaries to corporate executives. But to Mr. Scarritt and those with similar views, that is NOT considered a redistribution of our wealth. I just don’t understand.

The Rooster Song


It's hard to believe that I haven't blogged since Sept. 2008. A lot has happened in the interim, some good, some bad, some happy some sad. One of the sad things is that Sam died last December. A possum got in the coop, and Sam saw this as a big threat. Evidently the two got into it, and decided to fight to the death. The possum was the victor, but Sam got in some blows, too, judging from the blood in the coop. So now, Monique, the Plymouth barred rock is the lone and lonely survivor. Here's a picture tribute to Sam:
Sam, when he was a roosterhen- before he crowed. We named him/her Sam- short for Samantha or Samuel Pepys- whichever turned out to be correct :)

Hitchhiking on my boot

As Sam grew up, he was joined by Emily, Henrietta and Monique, affectionately known as Sam's "girls. He was most protective of them, but would have no part in their squabbles.

Sam grew into quite a handsome fellow. He loved to hop into my lap for an evening treat of couscous.

I really do miss Sam and his antics, although Mr. G says it's kind of nice to be able to go in the back yard without having to fear an attack by an irate rooster. But just to remind me of Sam, I have set the ringtone on my cell phone to a rooster crowing. Sam would get a kick out of it, and it's always cool to see how folks react when they hear it!

So, I won't be blogging about Sam's antics anymore, but I'll be back blogging about other goings on, including gardening, an occasional political rant and my new addiction to kitchen gadgetry and cooking a la Julia Child, so check back.

"Come into my parlor," said the spider to the fly

Last month we were graced with a nightly visitor, a nocturnal orb weaver. Each night, as darkness began to fall, she would begin her work. First she would sweep down from the porch roof to the side of the house, laying her first thread. Then she would begin spinning and weaving: up and down and around, back and forth she would go. When she was finished she had spun a massive web several feet wide and deep.
She would then sit in the center of her creation and wait patiently for some unsuspecting insect to fly into her lair. Then she would pounce, first immobilizing her visitor then wrapping her prey in silk. Sometimes she would leave him suspended and return to her waiting and watching. Sometimes she would devour him on the spot. Every morning, both she and the web would be gone, only to reappear again at dusk. Until one night a couple of weeks ago, as the evenings became cool, she came out, but didn’t weave as usual. Her web was only a few strands, suspended in a haphazard crescent from the middle of the porch roof, and she looked much fatter- I suspect she had an egg sac. I think that small web was her farewell gesture, as that was the last we saw of her. I suppose the mosquitoes and no-see-ums are happy that they can now flit about freely in the moonlight. But I miss her.

I tried several times to get a close-up pic of her and did manage to get a photo of her in her web, but she was too high for me. Fortunately, my son got a good close-up shot of her to share. I’ve googled to find out exactly what kind of orb weaver she was, but haven’t found a picture or description that fits her. If you'd like to learn more about these fascinating critters, the Bug Guide has a lot of info on and photos of orb weavers.

A Purely Political Post

Sam is a feisty rooster, and he has taught me well. So I have decided to be feisty in my own way, and comment on political stuff—something I have avoided until now.
First off- let me confess to my political biases: (1)I am a liberal/progressive. (2)I don’t generally like to be privy to information of a personal/sexual nature concerning other people, including political candidates, unless it directly impacts me or national security. BUT…when candidates campaign or tout themselves as advocates of Christian or other “family values” and attempt to convince the rest of us that they are “right” in espousing values, then I expect something more than lip service from them. Maybe I expect too much, but that's what I expect.
So , when news came out today about Sarah Palin’s unwed teen-age daughter’s pregnancy, I tended to agree with Obama when he said that, “We don't go after people's families. We don't get them involved in the politics. It's not appropriate and it's not relevant. Our people were not involved in any way in this and they will not be. And if I ever thought there was somebody in my campaign that was involved in something like that, they'd be fired,"
Obama also said: "This shouldn't be part of our politics. It has no relevance to Gov. Palin's performance as a governor or potential performance as a vice president. So I would strongly urge people to back off these kinds of stories."
He’s right. Up to a point. And I'm not in his campaign, so he can't fire me and he is in no way responsible for my views.
I believe that while private family dynamics may have nothing to do with a potential candidate’s ability to perform well in a particular capacity, it does say something about something. I haven’t quite figured out what that something is yet, but…
It’s kind of like when I’m in the grocery store parking lot and somebody has their bumper emblazoned with “What would Jesus do?” signs and such. When they unload their groceries, then abandon their grocery cart instead of returning it to a corral, and drive off, unconcerned, I tend to get slightly more upset when it slams into my car than I would have if it had been abandoned by an obvious heathen like me who was observed loading six-packs of beer into the trunk of his or her car. This may be unreasonable on my part, but there it is- it's how I feel.
I guess I feel that if you’re going to put yourself forward as a paragon of virtue with a particular set of values that you try to foist off on the rest of us, then you had better make sure your words and your actions are in sync. I hold you to a higher standard than the rest of us mere mortals. I am going to question and hold you responsible for a lot of what you say. If you publicly and vehemently espouse “family values” I expect you to be one of those rare people who has everything under control and on-board in his or her own family. I remember (yes, I am old enough, unfortunately) that when Adlai Stevenson (one of my very favorite political figures) ran against Eisenhower, his divorce became an issue: “If he can’t hold his own marriage together, how can he hold the country together?” It may not have been a valid question, but it did hurt him, politically. In this day and age, with candidates spouting off moral imperatives, it may be a valid and relevant question for candidates who have chosen to run based on those moral imperatives. So with all due respect to Sen. Obama’s statement, I submit that Governor Palin opened the door, and we, the people, have a right to enter, to question and to receive answers.

An Unusual Sight

The sun was shining. Streaks of lightning were splitting the sky. Thunder was booming and crashing. Rain was pelting down, pouring like a waterfall off the front porch. We've had TWO days with rain- good, soaking rain. I can almost hear the plants sighing in relief!

Sam and Monique, who usually retreat into the safety of the coop when the skies get dark and stormy, were evidently confused by the light. Sam decided to do a duet with the thunder by crowing loudly between the booms, insisting that he be fed immediately and let out into the yard to investigate. So there I was, at risk of being turned to cinders by a bolt of lightning, feeding chickens.

Silver Queens and Salsa

Here's today's meager haul from our little garden. I thought there was something wrong with the okra; it was white. Okra is supposed to be green or burgundy, isn't it? It probably has some disease and isn't edible, I thought. Then I remembered that I’d planted a new (to me) heirloom variety, Silver Queen. Well, duh! Why is it called silver? Silver Queen is NOT green, it’s kind of a pale creamy, almost white kind of green. The seed catalog says it’s supposed to be very tender when picked young, but this may have been on the plant too long. We’ll see.
There were only a few little tomatoes ripe today, and a few squash. This is probably the end of the squash. Squash- vine borers have been doing their dastardly deeds- they’ve already destroyed the zucchini and have begun work on the yellow squash now. With our long season, I may have time to plant more- I’m going to try, anyway. The beans are still doing nicely, as are the peppers, and we got a nice haul of roma and tip-top tomatoes over the week-end.

Most of the tomatoes went into the freezer, but I saved out a few to make salsa- it’s quite good. So good, in fact, that I ate nearly a whole jar all by myself. The jalapeno (seeds and all) give it a wonderful after-burn effect. I may regret my gluttony later...

Carrot Conundrum

Is this just an ordinary carrot that was planted in compacted soil and grew into a forked misshapen carrot?

Or is it an overly ambitious and slightly delusional carrot who thought it could turn into a carrot person if only it could grow legs and arms....

Sadly, it got yanked before the metamorphosis was complete, so we will never know for sure.

Mimosa Blossom Soap- Sort Of

Yesterday was a soapmaking day. My plan was to make some small test batches of new soaps. I knew exactly what I wanted the mimosa soap to look like. Sadly, whenever I know exactly what I want soap to look like, it never quite does. My plan was to incorporate the green of the ferny leaves topped with white and pink blossoms and something to give it a fluffy look. Of course, I was working with a previously untried fragrance oil blend, not knowing whether I would have a nice slow tracing soap with plenty of time to work with color, or whether I would have soap on a stick as soon as I stirred in the fragrance. Luckily, while the soap moved fast, it didn't move furiously fast. But it was setting up pretty quickly by the time I went to pour it in the mold. It didn't come out looking like I'd hoped it would, and definitely needs to be trimmed, but it could have been worse- and it does smell good- almost as good as the real thing!

Mimosa Musings

Living in Alabama as a child during the 50s, I spent summers playing with friends, barefoot and outdoors. One of our favorite pastimes was playing house. We would find a large patch of bare ground, usually under a tall, shady tree, then we’d haul in sticks, stones, dead leaves and whatever else we could find to lay out the outline of rooms, leaving gaps to serve as doors. The daddy, when he wasn’t off at work, usually stayed in the living room, reading the large leaves that served as a newspaper. Few of us girls wanted to play the daddy, and it was next to impossible to get any of the boys to play with us, so we just pretended he was away at work or on a trip. The mother stayed in the kitchen, cooking and fussing at her "children." or primping in the bedroom or entertaining her friends in the dining room. We sat and slept on pine straw sofas and beds and swept the floor with branches. Sometimes we were lucky enough to build our houses around a big flat tree stump or large flat rock. This wonderful architectural feature would serve as a table upon which we served pretend meals on leaf plates. In late summer, a staple of these meals was a pile of English peas still in the pod. In actuality, the “peas” were pods from the mimosa trees that grew all around us. It never occurred to us to eat any of the food we served, which is a good thing, since mimosa seeds contain a neurotoxic alkaloid that can poison cattle, sheep and dogs who ingest it. Besides, none of us liked English peas anyway, and usually had to be forced to eat them at home. Which may be why we enjoyed playing with pretend peas and discarding them, uneaten, without being fussed at by mothers who instructed us to clean our plates if we expected to eat dessert.

I’m reminded of those childhood summers every time I look out the back door and see the huge mimosa growing in the woods behind our house. Its limbs arch almost 40 feet high and nearly as wide, overhanging our fence, filling the air with the fragrance of its fuzzy pink flowers, and dropping seeds that pop up everywhere. And that’s part of the problem. The mimosa (Albrizia julibrissin) is one of those trees people hate or love- sometimes both at the same time. I love to look at it, with its delicate ferny leaves and those fragrant fluffy pink blooms that attract hummingbirds, butterflies and bees. But I hate to pull the lebenty zillion little mimosa seedlings that pop up in the flowerbeds, veggie beds and a hundred other places they don’t belong. And when those pretty pink flowers turn brown, die, and are washed loose in a rain, they cling tenaciously and refuse to turn loose from whatever they land on, leaving ugly brown stringy wads on everything, including the chicken run fencing, the bush beans, the tomatoes, etc. Then there’s the fact that the mimosa is yet another of those imported species that has become invasive and is now threatening native flora.

It’s hard to drive past any open or wooded area along the roads and highways here without seeing mimosa trees. They seem to be everywhere, but the mimosa is not used as a landscape plant in the South as much now as it was during my childhood. One of the reasons it has fallen into disuse is that the mimosa is extremely susceptible to several diseases, including mimosa wilt, caused by the fungus Fusarium oxysporum f. sp. Perniciosum, a devastating disease that has almost eliminated mimosas in many areas. Once infected, a mimosa may die within six weeks. Perhaps this is a case of Mother Nature intervening to remove the threat to native species. Who knows? I don't know how long we'll have the mimosa as a neighbor before it succumbs to disease or is cut down by developers. In the meantime, we'll continue in our love/hate relationship. I'll enjoy its beauty and complain about its pestiness. I might even make a mimosa soap, I can see and smell it now....

A Well Traveled Herb

This was one of those rare Alabama summer mornings--the temperature and humidity low enough to make working in the garden a pleasure rather than a painful necessity. Never mind that the idyllic state lasted only a couple of hours as the clouds drifted off, exposing the relentless rays of the sun. For a brief time, I was able to weed, water and enjoy the garden in blissful early morning coolness.

While I dispatched a number of weeds today, one weed I like to leave in place, or sometimes transplant to a more appropriate place, is mullein (Verbascum thapsus). Common Mullein is an herb that grows wild throughout North America in fields and along roadsides, but is often referred to as a weed, and has actually been classified as a noxious weed in Hawaii. I once thought that common mullein, being so widespread, was native to North America, but according to Steve Brill, mullein is Eurasian. It grows throughout most of Europe and temperate Asia, and has been used in European folk medicine for centuries. Soon after its arrival in the Americas, Native Americans discovered mullein’s healing properties, and adapted it to their own healing traditions. Known by various common names, including Our Lady's Flannel, Blanket Herb, Velvet Plant, Rag Paper, Candlewick Plant, Clown's Lungwort, Jupiter's Staff, Shepherd's Staff, Beggar's Stalk, Adam's Flannel, Beggar's Blanket, Old Man's Flannel, Hag's Taper, mullein has been used for everything from candles and candle-wicks to bandages to cures for colic, catarrh and diarrhea .

The mullein in my garden keeps guard beside the greenhouse, rising tall and erect from it's fuzzy gray feet, with a spiked cap of yellow flowers to beckon airborne pollinators (as you can see in the photo, one little winged critter is zooming in toward the flowers). In past times, mullein had a reputation in Europe and Asia as having the power to drive away evil spirits. Unfortunately, it does not drive away evil , seedling-chomping, seed-eating mice;it allows those nasty little greenhouse squatters free reign to come and go as they please. But I can forgive mullein this failing, and enjoy it for the many virtues it does possess, including those lovely yellow flowers.

Kudzu- it's everywhere- even in the bath!

Yesterday I almost sold out of chai tea soap( there's only one bar left for sale on my Etsy site), so had to make more. Now I'm completely sold out of Kudzu again, so tomorrow I must make more kudzu soap. A lot of people buy it to give as gifts to people up north- something quintessentially Southern, they tell me. But kudzu really isn't a southern native at all. It came here as a guest, then liked it so much that it refused to leave. A lot of folks think it wore out its welcome long ago. It's been called "The Vine That Ate the South," and with good reason- folks say that if you park your car too close to a kudzu patch overnight, you might find it completley covered come morning. In fact, there's an abandoned old house I pass nearly every day that is almost invisible come late summer, covered by kudzu.

Kudzu (Pueraria lobata) is a perennial woody vine, a member of the legume family, native to Japan and southeastern China, where it has been used as a food and in herbal medicine for centuries. Kudzu was brought to the United States for exhibit at the 1876 Bicentennial Exhibition in Philadelphia. The plant, with its large leaves, beautiful magenta flower clusters and sweet, grape-like scent was a hit with gardeners, who used it as an ornamental plant. It was also promoted as a food source for animals and as a means to control soil erosion. It became so popular that it was referred to as “The Miracle Vine” and Kudzu Clubs were started in the 1940s in its honor. But by the 1950s kudzu had fallen out of favor and was becoming a pest, especially in the Southeastern US, where it found ideal growing conditions. Actually, it grew too well– with no native insects to threaten it, it grew as much as sixty feet a year, soon covering trees, power lines and anything else in its path, often blocking sunlight that native trees needed for growth. Resistant to herbicides (in fact, some herbicides actually stimulated its growth!) it became a threat to native species. The US Department of Agriculture declared Kudzu a weed in 1972, and people have fought to eradicate it ever since– mostly without success.

But Kudzu does have its virtues— every part of the kudzu plant can be used: the leaves not only make a great compost, but are high in vitamins C and A, and can be eaten (as long as they haven’t been sprayed with herbicides). You can boil them, steam them, fry them, pickle them, or even eat them raw. Bees love kudzu flowers, and produce a wonderfully scented honey from them. The flowers are also used to make tea and a delicious kudzu jelly. Kudzu vines can be woven into baskets and fiber from the vines can be used to make paper and cloth. The roots can be ground into a powder or used to make a tea. The tea and powder have been used in traditional Chinese medicine to treat a number of conditions, from skin rashes to alcoholism.

I've always been fond of kudzu, despite it's nasty habits, except when it invades my own garden, and thought it might be interesting to use it in soap. So I convinced poor Mr. G to wade into any likely kudzu patches he might pass by on his travels. That dear man willingly risks snakebites, chiggers and who knows what to bring me big bunches of kudzu flowers, which I make into tea, then freeze for later use in making soap. In years when the flowers are not abundant or easily accessible (or when Mr. G is unwilling to risk life and limb), I use tea made from the powdered root. It makes a nice soap that smells delicious- kind of like grape jelly ( I have to admit to adding fragrance to this soap, since the kudzu scent doesn't survive the saponification process, but the fragrance oil does make the soap smell more like the blossoms). The flowers are really quite lovely, but they're hard to see, since they're often hidden under the large leaves. But if you walk or drive past a patch of kudzu in mid to late August and smell the scent of grape jelly, look closer- you just might see some of them, and understand why people fell in love with kudzu at the Bicentennial Exhibition. I don't know why people fell in love with my kudzu soap, but I'm glad they did.

Back from the Alabama Soap Meeting

Friday and Saturday I drove to Prattville, AL to attend the 10th Annual Alabama Soap Meeting, which was a whole lot of fun. We had wonderful door prizes, goody bags stuffed with neat samples, coupons, magazines and other wonderful things, vendor tables, garage sale tables to buy each other's surplus stuff, and wonderful talks and demos, including how to hand-dip candles, how to make massage candles and frosted soap cupcakes. Our extra-special guest speaker was Anne-Marie from Brambleberry and Otion, who spoke about how to succeed in business and how to set goals. Talk about a dynamo! She is so full of energy and enthusiasm that she made me feel like a sloth (anybody who accomplished as much as she did before the tender age of thirty AND goes running before breakfast makes me feel like a sloth!). I didn't take a camera, but my fellow soapmaker/friend/blogger extraordinaire, Karen, did. You can see her pics and read more about the meeting on her blog, Rurality.

The trip home yesterday was a little harrowing- it rained buckets--so heavy at times that you could barely see the car in front of you. Fortunately, the car in front of me during the worst of it turned on his flashers, so I didn't rear-end him(or her). At one point, though, I was behind a truck pulling a trailer with some tall box-like containers. The straps holding the boxes looked to be vibrating an awful lot and the boxes seemed to be swaying. I wondered whether the straps would break, sending the boxes crashing onto my car. Thank goodness they didn't, because when the rain let up and I was finally able to pass him, I saw the truck was hauling porta-johns. I have no idea whether they were full or empty, but if they'd fallen off, it would have been one stinking mess, for sure! I was so happy to finally exit off the Interstate for the last ten miles of the trip. Except that last ten miles took over an hour, thanks to a resurfacing project.

The rain here was good for the garden, but getting home at dusk/dark both nights, and being in a rush to leave in the mornings, I didn't check to see how the veggies were doing, so this morning I was picking some cucumbers, zucchini and yellow squash that had grown to elephant-like proportions! Since I don't like to cook humongous zucchini as a veggie, I'll probably grate them. I can see a zucchini cake in our future.

Miserable Manduca Monsters!

On my way out to close the chicken coop this evening I was shocked to see that the nicotiana plant that earlier had been blooming so merrily in the flower box on the deck had suddenly lost all its leaves and blooms. As I looked closer, I could see the cause. FOUR Tobacco hornworms (Manduca sexta) were chomping away, leaving mountains of frass behind (you can see it in the picture- it looks like little blackberries). Not just one or two, mind you, but four of those devils! On one poor little plant! Now I know that the hornworms are very useful in research and that they metamorphose into nice sphinx moths that pollinate night blooming flowers, but I'm just not willing to sacrifice my tomatoes and flowering tobacco plants to the cause. These four, red horns and all, have been dispatched to the great caterpillar resting place. I thought about picking them off and tossing them into the chicken run, but since Sam and Monique had already gone in for the evening, I figured the little devils would crawl out and start in on my tomatoes before the chickens got to them.

The Hungry Caterpillar

Caught in the act!

I nearly missed this little critter. He's almost the same shade of green as the bean pods that he was happily boring holes in, thinking, no doubt, that he was well camouflaged and would avoid detection.

I have no idea just what he is, although in trying to identify him, I've learned a great deal more about caterpillars. I looked here and thought he might be a cabbage or soybean looper or a green cloverworm, but he doesn't have the right number of leg segments or otherwise fully fit the description. Then I went here, and became fascinated by the diversity of caterpillars. Some I'm familiar with, like the tomato hornworm that nearly wiped out all my tomatoes one year. But being mesmerized by the images on the first two pages and spending much more time than I'd planned, I gave up, so still don't know what my little bean borer is. If you recognize him, please let me know.

More Adventures in Cooking

We've been picking summer squash from the garden for a couple of weeks now, and the bush beans are coming in, too! Not very many at a time, but enough to make a meal for the two of us. This is today's harvest:



I used some of our yellow squash last Sunday in a recipe from Tables of Content, the newest cookbook from the Junior league of Birmingham. It's a lovely book; not only are the recipes very good, but the book contains photographs of the "tables" of food in landmark settings in and around Birmingham such as Sloss Furnaces, the zoo and botanical gardens, with information about the landmarks. The squash casserole was quite delicious, as are most of the recipes I've tried from the book. This recipe serves 6 to 8; I halved it for us and adjusted the cooking time accordingly.

Best Squash Casserole

10 yellow squash

2 eggs

1/2 cup mayonnaise

1 envelope ranch salad dressing mix

1 cup (4 oz.) shredded mild cheddar cheese

1/3 cup chopped green onions (optional)

12 butter crackers, finely crushed

1/2 teaspoon garlic salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

Shredded mild cheddar cheese to taste(optional)

8 butter crackers, finely crushed

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Combine the squash with enough water to generously cover in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Boil 10 minutes or until tender and drain. Let stand until cool and slice. Drain the sliced squash in a colander, pressing with the back of a spoon to extract any remaining moisture. The cooked squash should measure 5 cups.

Beat the eggs in a bowl until blended. Stir in the mayonnaise and salad dressing mix. Fold in the squash, 1 cup cheese, the green onions, 12 crushed crackers, the garlic salt and pepper. Spoon the squash mixture into a 2-quart baking dish and sprinkle with additional cheese and 8 crushed crackers. Bake for 30 minutes.

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The beets from Saturday's trip to the farmers market provided roasted beets using a recipe from The Ultimate Southern Living Cookbook another of my favorite cook books that gets a lot of use. Growing up, I never cared much for beets . We always had them either boiled or pickled, but since discovering roasted beets, I love them. They have an entirely different, deep flavor, and this recipe really brings out the delicious beet taste:

Roasted Beets with Warm Dijon Vinaigrette

3 pounds medium beets with greens

1 tablespoon olive oil

1/3 cup sliced green onions

2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

2 tablespoons Dijon mustard

1/3 cup olive oil

1 teaspoon salt, divided

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground pepper

1 tablespoon minced fresh dill

Leave root and 1-inch stem on beets; reserve greens. Scrub beets with a vegetable brush. Drizzle beets with 1 tablespoon olive oil. Roast beets in a small roasing pan at 400 degrees for 1 to 1 1/2 hours until tender.

Meanwhile, process green onions, vinegar and mustard in a food processor until smooth, stopping once to scrape down sides. Pour 1/3 cup olive oil through food chute with processor running, processing until smooth. Place vinegar mixture in a small saucepan; cook over low heat until thoroughly heated, stirring occasionally.

Wash beet greens thoroughly; pat dry with paper towels. Cut greens into thin strips. Place beet greens in a medium saucepan; cover with water, and add 1/2 teaspoon salt. Bring to a boil; reduce heat, and simmer, uncovered 10 minutes. Drain well. Set aside; keep warm.

Cool roasted beets. Trim off roots and stems, and rub off skins. Cut beets into 1/4 inch slices.

Place greens and beets on individual serving plates; top evenly with vinegar mixture. Sprinkle with remaining 1/2 teaspoon salt, pepper and dill. Serve immediately. Yield: 6 servings.

Note: I halved this recipe, too, but won't do that again because the small amount of vinaigrette dressing was hard to process and heat properly.

The best laid mulch

I don't know whether mulch, like plans, can "Gang aft a-gley," but if it can, I have a good idea what it might look like.

Yesterday morning I did some weeding in my little herb bed, then laid down some newspaper and covered it with a nice layer of mulch. Once finished, I admired the results: a pristine, weedless area with clumps of herbs and flowers emerging from a layer of pine straw.

Yesterday evening, I let Sam and Monique out for their evening walk-about. Sam was not in a good mood--he came out of the run full of himself, making menacing noises and strutting about like a rooster, which of course, can only be expected. He began running at me with his wing down, but seeing that I was in control of a broom to swat at him and not to be intimidated by his antics, he soon lost interest and began pecking and kicking furiously at the grass outside the run. Finding that surface hard and unyielding and a little too much work, he then headed straight for my nice little herb patch and began to wreak havoc with the mulch. By the time he had vented whatever anger he felt, my herb patch was a disaster, the tidy mulch replaced by exposed newspaper, bare patches of ground and pine straw scattered to the four winds. It is not, as you can see from this small section, a pretty sight. If that's not bad enough, an entire clump of thyme has gone missing.

Sam also decided that there was absolutely no need for me to know which pepper plants were which, and scratched all the pepper plant markers out of the ground. So aside from torn newpaper and scattered pine straw, the ground is also riddled with popsicle stick plant markers. The last laugh is on him, though, because while they all look pretty similar right now, I'm pretty sure that at some point in the plant cycle, I'll be able to tell a bell pepper from a cayenne pepper from a jalapeno, etc.

I gave some thought to straightening it all up today, but had some errands to run this morning. Now that I'm home, one look at the thermometer on the deck has convinced me that it can wait another day or so:

To market, to market

For the past three summers, we sold soap from our booth at Pepper Place Market in downtown Birmingham. We loved selling at the market (well, maybe not the part about getting up at 4 AM every Saturday, rain or shine, or the 90+ degree days we often had); there's something very satisfying about being part of the farmers market experience. We weren't able to do the market this summer, so this year I visit as a customer. I headed there this morning to pick up some fresh veggies, visit the farmers and vendors and soak in the atmosphere. The booths were loaded with fresh squash, cucumbers, lettuces, peaches, beans, potatoes- even some tomatoes and corn! The smell of fresh baked bread, fresh brewed coffee and peaches filled the air, the bright colors of the produce and flowers and the buzz of conversation as people chatted with each other and filled their bags and baskets was exhilirating.

I bought peaches from Chilton County (Although they had a booth at the market today, the blackberries in the pic are from a mid-week trip back to Petals from the Past), hothouse tomatoes from Blackjack Farms near Birmingham, little red potatoes from Blount County, goat cheese from Notasulga, AL, some herbs from Cullman and some carrots and beets from Snow's Bend Farm near Tuscaloosa. The Snow's Bend Farm booth is one of my favorites- David Snow and Margaret Ann Toohey display their vegetables, herbs and flowers in such an eye-catching, artistic way that you have to stop and look. And having stopped, of course you can't resist buying. Once more, the camera wasn't functioning, but here's a pic of the Snow's Bend booth from a past market, when we had a neighboring booth. David can also be quite inventive; I remember being amused last year by the sign over the watermelon display: H2O melons, because, he explained, he couldn't fit "watermelon" on the sign.

Once home, I went out to our own little garden and found bush beans and summer squash ready to pick. We'll be eating well this week!