The Toffee

My Mom is something else at Christmas time.  She makes about 20 different kinds of cookies and candies.   It is truly amazing to see the boxes of treats she puts together for her family and friends.  When I was in my twenties, I used to emulate her Christmas output and made large boxes of several kinds of goodies for friends.  But it was a lot of work!  Finally, I just asked my friends what their favorite treats were, thinking I would make just one thing for each of them.  Interestingly, they all named the same thing--the toffee.  In my family, we always call it "Filbert Toffee."  Filberts is another name for hazelnuts.  Oregon is famous for it's filberts but didn't start marketing them as hazelnuts until the 1980s when it became the trendy thing to call them.  My Mom found the recipe somewhere but doesn't remember when or where.  All I know is that she's made it for as long as I can remember.  And I've been making it for about 35 years, I think. I've spent the last two days making this year's batches of toffee.  The house smells of butter and sugar and filberts and chocolate. Mmmm....  I package it up and send it to friends in California or take it to friends in Oregon.  I used to send it to Paul all those years we were pen pals.  He says it is definitely his favorite candy and "one of the best things you can eat."  Making toffee is an important part of Christmas for me.  Some folks make fruitcake at Christmas.  I make toffee.

O Chrismas Tree

Suddenly it's December and the holiday season is upon us.  For some reason, it seems early this year.  Perhaps that's because we already have our Christmas tree.  We had to get it this weekend while Peter was here, either that or wait two more weeks and that seemed a bit late.  Because we travel to visit family, we get the tree earlier than we might otherwise.  We like some time to enjoy it before heading out.  We always get our tree from the Boy Scout troop in Potlatch, Idaho, about 8 miles from here.  When I first came here, all trees were $8.  Yes, you are seeing correctly, that's eight dollars!  After a couple years, it went up to $10 and this year they are $12.  But I was told they only raised the price because the Forest Service charges them for each tree they cut and take.  So, the trees are fresh cut and not those manicured, tree farm, Barbie doll trees.  Some years, the pickings have been a bit slim and challenging.  This year, however, we walked up to the tree lot and had one picked out within five minutes.  Our fastest foray ever.  It's a really nice tree, too. 

I love a tree with a bit of character.  Actually, I love a lot of things with character: houses,  people, food. 

 I have my own tradition for decorating the tree.  I put on some Christmas music and pour myself a snifter of Grand Marnier and set to work.  There always seems to be a "good" side and a bare spot and a funky branch or two.  But once you put the lights and ornaments on, it is transformed into Christmas, glowing and shimmering with some kind of magic, or so it seems to me. 

Giving Thanks

Ahh, Thanksgiving.  It is truly my favorite holiday.  It's all about family, friends, and food.  No commercialism.  No frenzy (hopefully).  It's a day for counting one's blessings....and eating good food.  This year we roasted our first fresh turkey from Turnbow Flat Farm right outside of Palouse.  It was a Bourbon Red turkey and it was delicious.  We're pretty traditional when it comes to the Thanksgiving table.  There is always turkey and dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, cranberry-orange relish and some lovely vegetable.  This year it was a spinach salad with pomegranate seeds.  And, this year, I fixed sweet potatoes like my Grandma Alta always fixed, smothered in a sinful caramel-like sauce of butter, brown sugar, and (gasp) melted marshmallows (but no marshmallows on top).  Paul was very skeptical about the marshmallow part and completely won over when he tasted them. Oh, and, of course, a pumpkin pie. 

I love the traditions of Thanksgiving, like grandma's sweet potatoes and Paul's Mom's cranberry relish.  Paul always does the turkey and gravy and I do the rest.  We get out the Smith family china and silver along with some pieces of my great-grandmother's dishes and my good crystal goblets.  We light candles at the table in my grandma's pewter candelabra.  My favorite tradition, however, is when we go around the table and tell things we are thankful for.  It usually gets a little emotional and always touches my heart.  We have so many blessings in our lives and it is humbling to enumerate them.  I always come away from the table feeling very lucky.

Today I saw a quote in a comic strip, of all places.  It is my new favorite.  The author is unknown.  "I give thanks for this perfect day.  Miracle will follow miracle and wonders will never cease."   All I can add is...in all things, give thanks.

Pumpkin Eaters

 I could have called this post "Fall Food, Part 2" but, it's doesn't sound as exciting as Pumpkin Eaters.  As you probably have guessed, another favorite fall food around here is pumpkin and winter squash, especially butternut and acorn squash.  They have such a lovely fall flavor.  These are a couple of recent meals featuring yummy squash.  This first one is a pumpkin and cashew curry over rice.  It is rich and creamy and spicy all at once.  You can't beat ginger, garlic, onions, and coconut milk for tasty.

Although this salad gives it a good run for the money.  It has the most interesting combination of flavors.  Roasted squash covered with cumin, smoked paprika, and a pinch of cayenne is mixed in with lentils, arugula, chopped mint, roasted pumpkin seeds, and goat cheese.  It's dressed with a bit of olive oil and red wine vinegar.  It sounds bizarre but it is delicious!  

And, of course, there are many warming soups with squash.  One favorite pairs pears and butternut squash with a bit of bacon and cream.  Mmmmm....just talking about it makes my mouth water.  

Naturally there is pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving.  Last year I made my first pumpkin pie filling from scratch, baking the pumpkin and all.  It was far and away the best pumpkin pie I've ever made.  I can not go back to pie filling from a can!   

But, the one thing that eludes me, so far, is a good pumpkin scone.  We love scones around here and we have many favorites.  However, I really am craving a good pumpkin scone.  I've tried a couple recipes but they aren't what I'm looking for.  I have some ideas for tweaking the last batch to make them do my will.  I'll just have to keep trying....and taste testing...oh, darn.

The Autumn Leaves

 The fall colors are stunning this year.  I think I appreciate them even more after last year's dull season.  Mother Nature sent an early October cold snap that killed all the leaves and turned them a dead brown.  No color was left in any of them.  But, this year She is making up for it.  Everywhere I look there are gorgeous reds, oranges, yellows and greens. And they are hanging on the trees late into the season.  That may be good or bad for us.  We have several trees and many, many, many leaves.  I have been tempted to go out and start raking; however, Paul is of the 

 philosophy that one should wait until they've all come down and do that raking job just one time.  He's probably right.  When we do start raking, it's an all day job.  We rake the piles of leaves onto a tarp and drag them over to the compost and garden.  We cram as many as we can into the compost bins and the rest make winter blankets on the raised beds.  And, often, there are still leaves left over.  They get scattered out into the prairie and we let the wind take care of them.  

But as I look out at all the beautiful colors now, I don't really think about all the work they will become.  I just thank Mother Nature for the amazing show.  

Fall Food

Even though I seem to go kicking and screaming from summer, I really do like fall.  Especially fall food....like these luscious looking chanterelles.  I remember the first time I ate chanterelles, sautéed in a bit of butter.  They were like eating something golden and I was hooked.   Every fall I begin to look for chanterelles at the Co-op.  I was so pleased this week when they were there in the produce section beckoning me.  They ended up being roasted with shallots and fresh thyme and added to a lovely risotto for dinner last night.  

Another fall food I always look forward to is pomegranates.  This one fell into my cart at Safeway, of all places.  Isn't it gorgeous?  Some people don't like to deal with seeding a pomegranate but I rather enjoy it.  I just push up my sleeves and hold it down in the sink to catch any errant splatters.  I like how it feels to tickle those gelatinous little seeds from the pulp.  We ate some on a fresh spinach salad along with the risotto.  Delicious!  With a freshly baked apple pie for dessert, it was a perfect fall food meal. 

The "F" Word

No, it's not what you think. Well, it could be but it's not.  Around here, at this time of year, the "f" word is "freeze."  Our first freeze of the year was just a few days ago.  As you can see, some of the garden looks a bit worse for it.   The average first freeze in this part of the country is September 23!  Luckily for us it was later than usual and we got a couple more weeks of growing season to make up for the short summer this year.  But the first freeze means the end of the real growing season.  The only tomatoes that will ripen now are the orange ones we picked and brought inside.  No more fresh basil or squash or cucumbers.  The root vegetables and parsley and other herbs carry on like the hearty troopers they are but everything else is winding down.  It's always a bit sad, I think.  At least I'm not saying the other "f" word!

The Bird is the Word

This is what we had for dinner.  It may look like any old roasted chicken but it's not.  This chicken is from Mary and Duncan MacDonald at Turnbow Flat Farms just outside of Palouse.  Mary and Duncan started Turnbow Flat Farms because they are "dedicated to providing superior quality food using practices that heal the land, respect animal welfare, and strengthen the local community."  Lucky for us that they are.  We got our first chicken from them in July.  It was amazingly delicious.  When we picked up this one yesterday, they said it would taste even better. It was also amazing.  This chicken tastes more chickeny than most chicken, if that makes any sense.  I have pretty high expectations for the turkey we ordered from them for Thanksgiving!  It is encouraging that there are more and more people like the MacDonalds in the world, people who care about the land and animals and what we eat.  We are more than happy to support them and eat their great chicken!  Next year we're ordering six!  Yum!  By the way, all those lovely potatoes, parsnips, and carrots are from our very own garden.  A truly "local" meal.

They Might Be Giants

This is the tallest sunflower we have ever had. It is nearly nine and a half feet tall! We didn't even plant sunflowers this year but, thanks to a pair of chipmunks, sunflowers came up in odd and sundry places all over the property. This one is growing right next to one of the compost beds, which may account for its size. In fact, it is so big it shades some of the tomatoes. Since they are still struggling to ripen, Paul is threatening to take down the sunflower so the tomatoes have a better chance. I keep holding him off but it may not work much longer. So, I thought I'd share it with you before it's gone. Isn't it amazing?

Oh My, Berry Pie

I know, I know...I've been posting a lot about food lately. But it is harvest time around here and that's the most exciting thing I have to talk about for now. Here is the latest....the blackberries. Blackberries and I go way back. Blackberries grow all over the place in the Willamette Valley, were I grew up. In fact, they are sometimes called the kudzu of the Northwest. When I was a kid, I would pick them off the vines, wherever I happened to find them, and pop them in my mouth. They were so sweet and luscious. And blackberry pie has always been my favorite of all fruit pies. When I went out to pick our blackberries this week I expected the usual 3-4 pints. Was I in for a surprise. I ended up with over 2 gallons of berries! I put enough in the freezer for 4 pies, gave some to a neighbor and baked a fresh blackberry pie for us. But that first berry eaten off the vine was so sweet and delicious, I was immediately transported back to the Willamette Valley and my childhood. I love how tastes and smells can do that. I felt like a little girl again picking those blackberries.


And this blackberry pie tastes amazing (if I do say so myself). I think I'm having some for breakfast tomorrow!

Spud Surprise

This year we decided to try growing potatoes. We dug up a space on the edge of the "transition area" between the vegetable garden and the prairie. We planted half of it with black beans and half with potatoes with the idea we would trade places each year for some crop rotation. We planted two 12 foot rows with three kinds of potatoes; Yukon Golds, Red Thumb fingerlings, and Red Pontiacs. We wanted to see if we could dry land farm them, meaning grow them without irrigation. We'd been told that they would keep better if grown that way. So we dug our trenches, faithfully hilled them every couple weeks, and kept our fingers crossed. All went well until about a month ago when Paul started to see vole holes around the potato patch. (Remember those nasty voles? see earlier post) My heart sunk. I didn't even want to go out there and look. But, today was the day to harvest the spuds so I had to go see if there were even any potatoes left. When I saw the holes in the potato patch itself, I wasn't too hopeful. I started with the fingerlings. There were many, many half-eaten small red potatoes coming up in my shovel. I was getting more depressed. However, I began to find more and more uneaten ones so I kept digging. The Yukon Golds were nearly untouched. The Red Pontiacs were in pretty good shape, too, although there were more of them with little tooth marks and parts gone. When all was said and done, we ended up with about 40 pounds of whole, lovely potatoes! They are now stored in the dark, cool basement waiting to be eaten...this time by us!

Only Two Things

Tomatoes!  Fresh picked, vine ripened, pure heaven.  I love just about any food fresh from the garden but tomatoes are my favorite.  We plant lots of them!  Everything in the garden is late this year and I was worried that the tomatoes might not get ripe in time but they have arrived, thank goodness.  The little sungolds have been producing for a while.  They are so good popped into one's mouth sun-warm right from the vine.  They were also great oven roasted and mixed with garlic, sopresatta, parsley, olives and capers over pasta for dinner tonight.  The long San Marzanos are pressed for tomato sauce.  We freeze the sauce and use it all winter long.  It tastes just like fresh in pasta sauce and soup and paella.  The fat Brandywines and dark Nyagous get used for everything else...BLTs, sliced with a sprinkling of salt, or diced for fresh tomato pasta.  Nothing compares to the taste of tomatoes from the garden.  One of my favorite Guy Clark songs is called "Homegrown Tomatoes."  The chorus says "Only two things that money can't buy, that's True Love and Homegrown Tomatoes."  If you have both, you are rich indeed.

What's The Story, Morning Glory?

When I first mentioned planting morning glory, Paul was less than enthusiastic. Morning glory to him meant field bindweed, a noxious, nasty weed he has been eradicating from our prairie. I had to assure him that this morning glory (or ipomea) is a lovely annual vine with beautiful blooms. I planted it to camouflage the pole that holds up the satellite dish for the internet which it is doing quite well, I think. Morning glory is true to its name. The blossoms are full and bright every morning when I look out the window. By evening, they have closed up and gone to sleep. Being a morning person myself, I can understand this rhythm. Paul agrees that it is a beautiful plant. He's still not completely convinced that it won't try to take over the property, however.

All's Fair

It's war! This picture is what a perfectly beautiful carrot looks like after being munched by a vole. Voles are basically large field mice. There have always been many of them out in the prairie living in their little holes. We've pretty much ignored them. But this summer they decided to venture beyond the prairie toward the vegetable garden. We noticed a couple of them earlier in the summer, running into holes they'd dug under the railroad ties that divide the grass area from the river rock around the house. We didn't think much of it. Then we began to notice that things were being munched in the garden, mostly green beans, strawberries, and, especially, the carrots. And it got worse. Every morning we'd find carrot tops lying on the ground and the carrots themselves eaten down. The carrot crop was being decimated! There was a telltale vole run going into the carrot bed and the vole sightings became more frequent. In fact, we couldn't walk out there without them scattering here and there.

We found out that voles are very prolific little rodents. They are able to conceive at ONE MONTH and the gestation period is only three weeks. So, theoretically, one pregnant vole at the beginning of the summer could become nearly one hundred voles by the fall. YIKES!

So we had to declare war. (If you are one who would rather not read about the elimination of rodents, stop reading now.) We couldn't use poison because of the wildlife around here that eats voles to say nothing of Gracie, the border collie, who loves to catch and chomp them. Funny how dozens running around the garden didn't interest her, however. So we bought mouse traps. We set about 10 of them out around the garden beds baited with peanut butter and little pieces of carrot. And Paul, aka Dead-Eye Smith, took up residence in a chair at the edge of the garden where all those vole holes are along the railroad ties. Between the traps and the BB gun, we've dispatched nearly 30 voles in three days! (May they be reborn as lions.) There are still a few about but we don't see them every time we look out the window now. We remain vigilant, however.

I did have to dig up the rest of the carrot crop to save what I could. I have never had such gardening challenges as this year but I am determined. I would warn you not to be reborn as a vole in our vegetable patch!

Harvest

It's finally here...harvest time. This week the combines started appearing in the fields, dust following them as they moved through the wheat and lentils. This area is famous for it's wheat and lentils. There are fields and fields of both rolling across this now golden landscape. Harvest has it's own special smell. I can't quite explain it. It's a combination of dust and fresh cut stalks and heat. It's a smell I know well, having grown up on a farm. I also know that farmers are some of the hardest working people on the planet. Not just the farmers but also the folks who support them...like spouses and kids and folks at the grain elevator and truck drivers. When I was in my twenties I worked at a grain elevator weighing the trucks as they came and went. The people driving them were often tired and dusty but always friendly. Farm folks tend to be that way. It's a tough job but thank God they do it. Somewhere I read that farmers are the founders of civilization. Once the farming starts, the rest follows. I believe that's true. If you ever run into a real farmer, be sure to thank him or her for all the hard work. Where would we be without them?

The Stinking Rose

Ahh, garlic.  It is the beginning of many of our favorite dishes.  Garlic sauteing usually prompts the comment "Something smells good." from whoever walks into the kitchen.  Today was the day to dig the garlic and shallots from the garden.  Last fall I planted 24 cloves of Spanish roja garlic and today I was rewarded with as many lovely heads of it.  And, thanks to our friend, Jim, I also planted about 6 little shallots that turned into large bunches.  I've never grown shallots before but certainly will from now on.  But, back to the garlic.  One favorite pasta dish is to mash up the cloves of a head of roasted garlic along with a hunk of goat cheese and a couple glugs of olive oil.  Throw in some chopped sundried tomatoes (preserved in oil).  Let it all sit at room temperature so the cheese softens.  Add a pound of cooked pasta and a half cup or so of the pasta water.  Sprinkle with a good handful each of chopped parsley and toasted pine nuts and enjoy...and then pass the Altoids!

Fresh Eggs

These beautiful eggs are fresh from our friends Diane and Michael at Fiddler's Ridge Eggs over in Potlatch. We've been getting eggs from them since mid-winter. I was so excited when I found out they were going to start selling eggs. I'd been looking for a source for "real" eggs for a while. Fresh eggs are so amazing to look at when you crack them open. The yolks are deep orange not that wimpy pale yellow you find in store-bought eggs. As I was driving home with these eggs today, I started thinking about how I'd sort of come full circle in my egg "life." Growing up on the farm we had chickens and fresh eggs, at least when I was fairly young. The chickens I remember were Banty chickens, a small variety. I remember I didn't like to go get the eggs from the nests because the chickens would peck at me. And the best April Fool's joke I ever pulled was the time I told my little sister that there were new baby chicks in the hen house. She trekked all the way out there in her flannel nightgown and rubber boots to see them only to have me yell "April Fool's!" I don't she talked to me for a week. So, these eggs today triggered childhood memories of chickens and eggs. And, no, I don't know which came first!

Sweet Smells

Ahh, sweet smells. You know, the ones that instantly transport you to a time, or place, or just to blissful smiles. Bread baking, sweet peas and lavender blooming, newly mown grass, lemon blossoms, freshly ground coffee beans, skin that's been in the sun...you have a list of your own I'm sure. One of my very favorites is the smell of sheets that have been hung on the clothesline to dry. Sometimes I bury my face in them as I take them off the line and take a long, sweet whiff. They smell so fresh and sun-filled. Climbing into bed with line-dried sheets is truly olfactory heaven. One can't help but have sweet dreams.

Sky Blue Pink

Mother Nature is an amazing artist. This evening I went out to gather the clothes from the clothesline and looked up to see this view to the east. Light from the sunset was shooting across to clouds on the opposite horizon. The colors were intense and beautiful. When I was a little girl, my Dad would call this color combination "sky blue pink" and sky blue pink it has been to me ever since.

Bells are Ringing

Sometimes the coolest part of gardening is unplanned, or unplanted as the case may be. When I first moved here, the lawn went all the way up to the road in front of the house. The last few feet was a nasty slope up that was difficult to mow. So two years ago we decided to kill the grass and turn the slope into a shrub border. We planted a couple of forsythias and spireas to provide a future shrubby hedge. What we didn't expect were the ladybells. There were a few of them around the base of the old cottonwood tree. We thought that was all there was. Ha, were we wrong. The whole border area between the lawn and the road is now covered in ladybells. They are quite the groundcover and so tall the young shrubs can't even be seen when the ladybells come up. They are lovely and a beautiful color of purplish blue. I love surprises like this!

There is No Such Thing as Leftover Souffle

Tonight was one of those nights. There was a last minute change of plans for the evening and we suddenly found ourselves trying to figure out what to have for dinner. I think we did pretty well. There was a lovely cheese souffle made with eggs from our friends Diane and Michael at Fiddler's Ridge Eggs. You can tell I'm not a food blogger since I forgot to take a picture of the souffle when it came out of the oven. You'll just have to trust me that it was tall, beautiful, and had a perfect "top hat." There were greens from the garden, as well as some sweet little baby carrots, the result of my finally getting around to thinning out the carrot row. There was a loaf of Paesano bread and amazing olive oil for dipping from Zingerman's, gifts from some wonderful friends (Thank you, Steven and Linda). There was a light and fruity red wine from the Wine Company of Moscow, too. It turned out to be a delightful meal. The picture really doesn't do it justice...and there was no leftover souffle.

Time "Flies"

Sometimes things happen quickly. This picture of the fuzz balls was taken last week. They were eggs just two and a half weeks ago. Today I went out to take another picture and all the little birds flew from the nest, just like that. They haven't come back yet so maybe they are truly gone. It seems like they were just little bitty things and suddenly they are grown and flying away. Life is like that I guess. I just wasn't expecting it so soon. Sigh....

Berry Nice

They're happening! The first strawberries of the season from our tiny strawberry patch. I love fresh berries. Growing up on a farm in Oregon, I had some of the best berries in the world (no bias here, eh?). There are few things that taste better than a warm-from-the-sun, fresh picked strawberry. I remember picking strawberries as a summer job when I was a kid. I pretty much hated it. The berry plants were wet early in the morning. The ground was hard. I scooted along between the rows, trying to pick them without getting too many stems. The row boss would come behind where I'd picked to check my row and I would cringe with embarrassment if she found too many I'd missed. However, there were always cute crate boys to flirt with who would sometimes come along a help me pick for a bit. But the best part was being able to eat a strawberry whenever I wanted. Of course, if I ate too many, my crate wouldn't fill up too fast and I wouldn't make much money. Seems like I never made much money, anyway. Too much flirting maybe, or the fact that I just couldn't resist those warm, luscious strawberries. I still can't!

Those Pesky Pests

It rains...and rains...and rains. This is the wettest spring in a long time. We had a couple days of warmth and then the rain returned. I guess I should look at the bright side. I haven't had to hook up the irrigation system yet and things are growing in the garden. We have more greens than we can keep up with.

The newest garden challenge is keeping the quail out of the corn bed. Those little rascals have been eating off the tops of the newly sprouted corn shoots. I think at least half the corn is gone! I'm going to replant this weekend and put bird netting over the bed until the corn can get tall enough to fend for itself. I've never had so much trouble with the quail as I have this year. Earlier in the spring, they tried to munch down my sprouting sweet peas, too. My dad says quail are good eating. They'd better watch out or I could turn into a female Yosemite Sam, heading for the garden with guns blazing, yelling, "You gol-durned birds, get outta my corn!" Nah, I think I'll try the bird netting.

The other garden pest I have to deal with is the bunnies. One was out in the garden this evening, hopping between the beds, scoping things out. It's a cute little thing but definitely destructive. This year we've foiled them by putting a 2' chicken wire fence around the beds that contain the gourmet grocery, namely the greens, peas, carrots, parsnips, parsley, and beets. Last year they ate not only the beet greens but dug down and ate the tops of the beets as well. We got about four beets for the table. Hopefully, this year will be different. Like my neighbor, Don, said to me today as we compared garden pests, "It's always something."
He is absolutely right.

Signs of Spring

Spring comes slowly to the Palouse, or so it seems to me sometimes. This year's spring has been a wet one. The plants and garden are happier for it but I am ready for some warmer weather. One sure sign of spring is the birds flying about with scraps of grasses and such in their beaks. Their industriousness has resulted in many nests around our place. Some of the nests are already empty. Young robins are hopping about everywhere now. Some nests are still noisy with demanding little ones. Some, like this house finch's nest in my fuschia basket, are still quietly awaiting the hatchlings. And I quietly wait, too.