LOCAL AND FRESH

A while back, in the late fall, a friend gave me a huge amount of fresh from the bogs, cranberries. Huge amount as in a 5 gallon bucket. Her brother-in-law lives right by a bog and gets some most years. They were beautiful, so red and so large, and once cooked, so tasty. After having cleaned out the culls, I packaged much of the bucket and gave away gallon bags full. The rest I froze, awaiting a turkey.

We bought a turkey from an Amish friend, freshly slaughtered then frozen until Christmas. (One of the best turkeys in memory.) My opportunity to make cranberry sauce. I did make the sauce...

Cranberries simmering slowly...while I listen to the musical pop of the skins...

I made several batches of sauce to eat, a little orange zest added for flavor, a powerful, pungent and utterly delicious sauce. Still having a large amount of cranberries in the freezer, I wanted to make a colorful, flavorful dessert for Christmas.

...a baked pie shell...

*1 pkg. Organic Valley Cream Cheese softened
*1 c. Organic Valley heavy whipping cream, whipped
*4 c. cranberry sauce

Beat the cream cheese until fluffy. Whip the cream until thick but not stiff. Place it in the bowl with the cream cheese and beat until incorporated and thick. Gently fold in the cranberry sauce, pour into the shell, and freeze.

Take it out of the freezer and refrigerate several hours prior to serving, cut and serve. This is a so simple and really delicious pie, that could have, but definitely does not need a dollop of whipped cream atop each slice.

For Christmas I received a cookbook I had wanted, called Rustic Italian Food, by Marc Vetri. I decided, despite the fact that I have my own bread recipe down pat, to try this rustic Italian loaf of bread which begins with a biga. A biga is something like a sourdough starter, but not as thin, more like a loose dough.

The recipe came with a story about a famous chef who 'invented' this loaf, who always called out to the baker, burnt, burnt, I want it burnt. Supposedly it is best fully and terribly dark brown. Well, I heeded this to some extent, but I couldn't bring myself to let it go 'burnt'.

It is a beautiful, hearty, loaf....

with all the air holes one really wants in the 'crumb'...

we tasted it alongside my regular loaf, and found it wonderful, perhaps equally wonderful, but we did not think it surpassed the usual baguette I make from a sour dough starter. Still, it is impressive.

Still having a crate load of butternut squash from the garden, I decided to make Butternut Squash Risotto for supper along with a salad and this rustic bread.

MMmmm, did we eat well last night! !

THE ORGANIC WAY OF LIFE
(Vote for your favorite essay)


Several weeks ago I entered a contest for Organic Valley/Stoneyfield Farms and am now one of six finalists. The contest was a 200 word essay (which in its brevity was difficult for me to do, loquacious as I am) and the subject matter was: How do you celebrate organic in your kitchen and in your life?

This was a subject that was near and dear to me, although I had given it no direct thought prior to writing the essay. When I was a girl we lived with my grandmother until her death. She was an avid gardener, and I trailed behind her in the garden incessantly. She was naturally, an organic gardener, and the food she prepared in our kitchen was always fresh or preserved from the garden. The kitchen was truly the heart of our Sicilian home.

I learned much from her, and she lives still so vividly in me.

If you go to http://www.celebratewithorganic.com/winners you can read all six of the essays and vote for the one of your choice. I, of course, would like your vote, but honestly, I can't ask for it unless you truly feel that mine is the 'top' essay. If you do, you are able to vote once per day under the same email until January 31.

And by the way, thanks for reading this blog...and I hope you celebrate organic in your kitchen and your life, too!

FROM BACK....TO BACK

These adorable little lambs, Robin and Primrose respectively, now grown, live a very good life on Iris' and Elsa's 'farm'. I have seen them romp and run, and be led on a lease. They surely were sweet little ones.

Staying little was not for long, as they grew in size as well as in a luxurious coat of fine wool.

In March we all went to the sheep shearing gathering at the Ashley-Wright farm, where

...Robin met the sheep-shearer's shears...

...as well as Primrose...
neither seemed to mind too much, and given the heat of the summer, I am sure they were relieved.

The huge bags of raw and dirty wool was taken to Heavenly Fiber Woolen Mill in Readstown to be washed, combed, and spun into yarn.

A lovely unbleached cream color came from Primrose, and the black from Robin was twined with the cream to make a beautiful heather yarn.

Iris and Elsa helped me to wind the hanks into balls ready for knitting.

One sweater nearly finished and the second begun...needling away as fast as I can as I wish these to be for Christmas.

There is something that fills the heart knowing the girls will be wearing sweaters knit from the wool of their very own lambs. Sustainability at its finest.

CONJURING UP THE OLD ONES

My garden was so prolific this year, yielding an abundance of so many things, among them small, sweet, orange pie pumpkins. I harvested them a while ago, baked many of them, mashed the pulp and froze it for later use in pies, breads, muffins, etc. Despite the large number that I processed, I still had 15-20 small ones left. I placed them for decorative purposed along the top railing on the deck prior to Halloween, and left them until after Thanksgiving. Yesterday I thought I should remove them, as it seems that the season for pumpkin decorations is past, but I was lamenting the waste. Before just dumping them in the compost, I checked each one, and and collected those that had withstood the numerous frosts thus far this year.

I brought them inside, washed them, cut them open, put them sliced side down on a cookie sheet with a bit of water and put them in a slow oven to roast. I think there were still about six-seven pie pumpkins that were good. After roasting for about an hour and a half, they were small, I let them cool slightly and scooped them out.

The color was beautiful, and the taste, even prior to sweetening, was naturally sweet.


My intention had been to freeze all of it, but the sight of all that beautiful mashed orange pulp urged me on to make a quick pie crust.

Single Pie Crust

1 cup organic all purpose flour
1/3 c. Crisco (I have tried organic butter, lard and even margarine but nothing produces the pie crust, at least for me, that Crisco does.)
1/3 c. very, very cold water

Cut the Crisco into the flour, add the water, and mix well.
That's it...simple.

Rolling out the dough is always a nostalgic event for me, and even after the thousands of pies I have made it remains so. Every single time I do this, I think of the PERFECTLY round crusts my mother would effortlessly roll, and I hold myself up to this standard. I don't always reach it, but yesterday's crust was 'my mother's crust' and it filled me with joy.

...she must have had a hand on the rolling pin with me...

In the pie plate, and thumb-pinched just like she used to do.

Then on to making the filling. I have tried pumpkin pie with every conceivable kind of sweetener, and have found that honey, is by far the one that compliments the pumpkin the most.

...and this particular honey is local, coming from my friends Jim and Karen Lee...

Pumpkin Pie Filling Recipe (for a 9" pie)

3/4 c. honey
3/4 c. nonfat dry milk
1/2 tsp. sea salt
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp. mace
1/2 tsp. ginger
1/4 tsp. ground cloves
1 1/2 c. cooked pumpkin
2 eggs
1 1/2 c. water
2 tbs. melted butter (optional)


Mix dry ingredients well to prevent streaking. Add the other ingredients. Blend thoroughly. (I use a mixer)

...just mixed...

Pour into the prepared pastry shell.

...prior to placing in the oven...

(Now my mother's sister, Aunt Minnie, always put walnuts on top of her pumpkin pie, and for me it has become essential. The cooking of the pumpkin filling caramelizes around each nut and adds much flavor and texture to the pie.)

Bake 15 minutes at 425 degrees in a preheated oven. Reduce to 350 degrees and bake 40 minutes longer.

(As I have an old restaurant stove in my kitchen, and it heats very hot, I merely bake the pie at 375 degrees for about 45 minutes.)

...just out of the oven...

The aroma filling the kitchen at this time is truly a holiday smell.

...and of course, the pie waiting for our forks...

There is something about pumpkin pie that says family and holiday for me. As I remove the pie from the oven, I look around my kitchen and all the old grandmothers and the aunts seem to be hanging around just at the edge of my vision. How lucky am I?

THANKSGIVING 2011

When I was a child growing up, it was always a very special Thanksgiving when it fell on November 24th. That was my father's birthday, and to celebrate both on the same day, surrounded by family, was indeed a wonderful occasion. Were my father alive today he would be 90 years old. He passed away far too young, and I regret that so much of my life has passed without him. He never knew my daughter beyond her 6th year, he never knew her husband Andy, nor their offspring, whom he would have loved beyond words. His love for children was huge, and deep and he was always a pleasure to watch when children were around.

He never truly knew my love for gardening (which he really had no time/interest in) my love for preparing and serving food, nor my love for creating in all manners, which sprang from him.

I am thankful for my father and all that I am because of him.

I, too, am thankful for my mother who lives so actively in my blood.

And though, as with the passing of all parents, it has left a hole in my life, has left a frequent wish to share something with them, still they are not far from me, and I think of them often.

On this Thanksgiving Day I have so much to be thankful for:

...bread...from beginning to end...

I am thankful for not only the grains that grow without chemical application, but for the yeast and the pure spring water in the simple loaf that I bake. I am thankful for these hands that knead and form and bake, and then break the bread with love and reverence.

I am thankful for my love of fibers and creating. I am thankful for the time and the inclination I have been blessed with and the abundance of energy that is mine.

I am thankful for Bob, my first husband, without whom Jonel never would have been. I am profoundly thankful for Jonel, not only a lovely, and good daughter, but a person I admire deeply for the way she lives, and for Andy her husband, who without a doubt in my mind is one of the finest men I have ever known. I am thankful, beyond what my heart's capacity can hold, for Iris and Elsa, who bless and grace my life in countless ways.

I am thankful for Morgan, Macy and Nolan, grandchildren I deeply love and of whom I am proud.

I am so thankful for the winter, my favorite of all seasons...its beauty breathtaking...stunning me over and over again.

The stark beauty of the trees in winter never ceases to overwhelm me, and continues to be the trigger for my love of winter.

The SUN...
I am so thankful for the sun, of which we have seen far too little of these past days. I love its warmth, its stretch, its dazzling self. I love its feel upon my skin and the smells it brings forth.

Ah, garlic...
my kitchen would never, not ever be complete without an oversupply of garlic. I love its smell, its flavor and the healthful benefits it provides. I love that it has been a core part of my life forever.

and good food...grown from my garden...prepared with all my love and attention...

Bread, fiber, children, winter, sun, garlic...some of what I love.

WARM HANDS

There is something about the onset of this cold, cold weather that makes me want to get out the knitting needles, sit on the couch and watch the item I am making begin to slowly develop. Perhaps I was urged on somewhat by the fact that I recently picked up 27 skeins of yarn from Heavenly Fibers Mill in Readstown, WI.

Back in the spring Jonel, Andy, the girls and I went, along with their black and their white sheep, to a friend's farm for a sheering. We decided to take the raw wool from their sheep to Heavenly Fibers Mill for processing. In the end, we received several skeins of unbleached white yarn, and several skeins of heather yarn, which was made from wool of the black and the white sheep. The yarn is beautiful, and I think it was the day that I picked it up, that my itching to start knitting again, began. I am so anxious to make something for each of the girls that comes entirely from their own sheep...sheep they have fed, walked on a leash, and loved a great deal. As I have yet to find patterns for what I will make from that yarn, I decided to begin with a smaller project using some of my collection of yarns.

Now I consider myself only slightly more than a novice knitter, despite having made several sweaters, hats, mittens, etc. AND I had never before knit with double point needles, much less five of them. But the small project I took on was 'hand warmers' and not having a circular needle of the right size, and not being able to find one anywhere, I purchased the set of 5 double point needles. After checking a tutorial at ravelry.com I felt ready. It is awkward at best, but now on my second pair, I am becoming seasoned.

And I actually love these warmers that leave your fingers exposed. They are great to wear while knitting, reading, weaving, not so much cooking, and just about anything else in a house where we keep it on the cool side.

I know I've just begun my venture in making hand warmers! I see a great place to use up all my leftover yarn...and they will make nice gifts.

AWASH IN BLUES

I was commissioned to do a lampshade several weeks ago. Although the frame has been warped for quite some time, it was only last week that I finally got around to selecting the materials for the weft. As it was quite a large frame, I needed to find enough coordinating colors and fabrics from my stash. (I like to use reclaimed materials, so wasn't about to purchase any.)

Looking through what I had, I kept coming back to a combination of turquoise, jade greens, dark blues, and all shades in between. In addition, a while ago a friend had given me some balls of silver metallic ribbon one of which matched quite well.

It was from this stash of silks, rayon, cotton, silky gauze and the ribbon, I decided to proceed.

The warp for this lampshade is a heavy linen. The procedure for this type of weaving is 'finger picking'. By that I mean, one creates the 'shed' by inserting the fingers over and under, over and under, and the passing the weft through the opening. This is time consuming, although never boring.

I sewed some of the ends as I went, and the rest I sewed both on the outside of the lampshade, and the inside of the lampshade, after I'd completed the weaving. Perhaps this was the most complicated part of the project, as sewing inside this frame was awkward at best.

The completed shade.

I rather like it, and hope the person who commissioned it does as well. She gave me no parameters except she did not want it to have a 'vertical' look as it was already quite tall. She designated no color choices. So I was free to do as I wished.

This is a study in blues...and makes me think this is what the deepest part of the ocean must be like. Mmmmmmmmmm, I wonder if I should applique some fish on it?? If she chooses, I guess I might.

FUN AND SURPRISES

To say that I have been a bit overwhelmed this past month, perhaps more like 6-8 weeks, is to put it mildly. First of all, a planned visit from my sister, who had never been to visit us here in Wisconsin, was to happen mid-October. Being the person that I am, I set about cleaning full force. Now I know that this wasn't exactly necessary, especially from anyone's standpoint other than my own, but I embarked upon a cleaning spree of which my mother would have been proud.

And then, I also had the Friends of the Kickapoo Valley Reserve's Appreciation Dinner to prepare. Now this is an event I eagerly look forward to each year, where I get to play chef to a large number (in this case it turned out to be about 68) people. I love it from start to finish, from perusing cookbooks to decide upon the menu, to the actual serving of dinner that night.

Below is a photo of the menu I 'printed' for display that evening. More to come on that later.




And then, it was of course going to be Halloween, a holiday I have looked forward to ever since Jonel was born...creating costumes for her from a turtle, one of my favorites, to just about anything she could think to ask. Now I am lucky to be able to make two costumes each year, and both Elsa and Iris are as inventive in ideas as was their mother.

Iris wanted to be a monkey...and lucky me, I found a really HAIRY sweater in a thrift store which became an important and realistic part of her costume.

Elsa wanted to be a 'kunk, although before Halloween came upon us she actually learned to say skunk.
Again, Goodwill had a large piece of black 'furry' fabric which was perfect.

...and so the monkey and the skunk were out and about...

So, back to the visit from my sister Barb. She and her husband Mike arrived on a Thursday and were staying until Sunday. Now mind you, they are Big City Folk, living right outside the Big Apple. To say I was a bit worried about what to see and do while they were here is an understatement.

We decided a short hike on Friday, then a Friday Night Fish Fry at a small, locally cultural cafe. Asked what we generally wore out to dinner, I replied, clean jeans and a nice top. (Which is, of course what I was wearing...and no one else.)

Jonel had asked that we stop by the Reserve, where she works, because her good friend Kelly was having a 35th birthday party and Jonel felt she needed to make 'an appearance'.

And as you can see from the expression on my face, I believed her!! It was all a ruse, however. The birthday party was really for me (my birthday is not until November, or I bet I would have scoped this out myself.) A lovely sit-down affair, with a huge surprise of not only so many of my friends, but also the appearance of my sister Jackie, her husband and her daughter Lisa, as well. To top all of this off, they had hired my favorite chef, Luke Zahm to cater the meal, which was about as good as it gets.

An Italian Cream cake provided by David Nordstrum.

...lots of friends and family...

...and the gathering of my family, minus (making a big hole in the evening) my brother and wife, who had just returned from a trip to Turkey.

Sometimes even now, when I think about this event, I have difficulty processing it. It seemed to take me most of the evening to fully comprehend it all. Surprised is far too little a word to describe how I felt, as is happy and elated, too.

PASSING THE SHUTTLE

Earnest in her efforts.

Iris' desire was to make a rug for her 'tiny' doll.

Iris' first rug...a weaver is born.

Magical Saturday and Sunday

The Viroqua Harvest Parade on Saturday was surprisingly well attended. Parading down Main Street, tambourine shaking against my leg, Iris' rattle never stopping its rhythm, Elsa succumbed to sleep on her Mom's back, Andy wearing the flower hat she was supposed to wear, was truly an enlightening experience. No CANDY thrown to the crowd!! no kids scrabbling frantically to fill already full bags, just lots of laughs, smiles, and fun watching all interpretations of 'harvest' time pass by. The look of joy on the spectators (young and old alike) faces was unbelievable and I must say, for me, who really does not like parades, it was the finest parade I can remember.

On Sunday Freddie and I once again took the canoe, and spent three hours on the river. It was a wonderful Fall experience, of color, smells and profound silence. We encountered only one group of people the entire time, three kayakers eating lunch on a bank. Never did we see another soul during our time on the water.

The sun shone the entire time, reflecting on the water, exposing shadows here and there, and superbly highlighting the rock walls.

Lazy day on the river.

No matter where you cast your eyes, there seemed to be a frame of exquisite beauty which my camera truly could not capture.

I could hardly look up from the water, where leafs floated and turned and tumbled in a slow lazy dance of demise. What a glorious way to complete their journey. (Although this is a photo of the water, it could as easily be looking upward into the sky.)

A brief break.

Coming up on the covered bridge.

Our time on the river was contemplative, meditative, and at times filled with Freddie's stories about the old timers who used to own land here and there. Also about the days of his youth when he and friends spent time at one rock wall or another.

It was a magical day, and often I felt like as though I was passing inside a perfect poem...