A Dark Days offering

Seasonal, Organic, Local, Ethical

And vegan (which is about as ethical as a meal gets). All the ingredients in this meal came from my garden, except the chili powder, which is the hot organic from The Spice House.

SOLE chili

2 Thai peppers (or other hot pepper, I just happened to have these)
1 medium onion, diced
1 roasted green pepper, diced
1/4 cup finely chopped cilantro
5-6 small carrots, cut into rough chunks
1 quart roasted eggplant
1 cup heirloom beans (I used Tiger Eye)
 Spinach, 4 oz uncooked
1 quart roasted tomatoes
1 pint tomato sauce
2-3 T chili powder (to taste)

Saute the onion and peppers in a couple tablespoons of olive oil. Add the cilantro and simmer a couple of minutes. Add the carrots, tomato and eggplant, season to taste.  Simmer about 10 minutes, add the beans. Continue to simmer about an hour. Serve with cornbread.

I used the roasted vegetables--peppers, eggplant, tomatoes--that I had cooked and frozen from last summer's garden.

Served with this cornbread, but Snarky Vegan recommends this vegan recipe.

What's in your larder?

It used to be a common skill--not just knowing how to put up food, but also a sense of how much you'll need.

I've got plenty of fruit to get me through the winter, I think, and peppers, and eggplants. But I don't think I put up enough tomatoes, and I definitely haven't solved the root-vegetable thing. I still just buy them from the year-round CSA which tends to have local veggies well into early winter. I don't have room to grow the beans I know I'd eat-- about 45 square feet yielded just 3 quarts of beans.

Reading the sustainability blogs as one of the managers of this year's Dark Days Challenge, I'm also amazed at the amount of preserving people do. Do they have a million kids or something? People talk about 40 jars of pickles, and 200 jars of tomato paste. People kill, butcher and freeze 5 and 6 and 7 deer.  I start to think that I'm not doing it right.

Last year I made it all the way to May without buying vegetables. This year, I'm not so sure.

Everything in the meal below was made from food I grew, except the seasonings and bacon.

White bean cassoulet with chard
4-6 thick bacon slices
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 1/2 cups chopped onion
1 1/2 cups (1/2-inch-thick) slices diagonally cut carrot
1 cup (1/2-inch-thick) slices diagonally cut parsnip

3 cups white beans (I used Hutterites)
3/4 cup vegetable broth
1 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme
3-4 fresh sage leaves, chopped very fine

1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon black pepper
1-2 large tomatoes, skinned, seeded, then roughly chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced

Garnish:
1/4 cup (1 ounce) grated fresh Parmesan or Romano cheese (not for vegans, natch)
2 tablespoons chopped fresh parsley

Preparation

    Cut up some bacon and fry in a large sauce pan until very well done. Drain and set aside. Using the bacon grease, add onion, carrot, parsnip, and garlic; cover and cook 5 minutes or until tender. (Add a little olive oil, lard, or preserved bacon grease if you need more).  Add stock, beans, enough cold water to cover, sage, and thyme. I'm told you shouldn't add salt to the beans until they are fully cooked because they won't cook correctly, but I don't know what that means. Plus, there's salt in the bacon.  Bring to a boil, and then simmer covered for about 1 1/2 hours, stirring about every 20 minutes.

Add next 4 ingredients and bring back to simmer.  When the beans are just about done, add the bacon, parsley and garlic, and simmer another 10 minutes.

Remove the stems from some chard and blanch the leaves. Place these in the bottom of a bowl and ladle in the cassoulet. Season with salt and pepper to taste, and top with a little garnish of extra parsley.

Just me, the lightning bugs and Son of Rabbit Kong

He’s not even intimidated anymore particularly. He stays just a little ahead of me on the paths and disappears into the underbrush. I think there must be a wormhole somewhere—he slips into an alternate universe.

But it’s nice being out here with him in the gloaming. The city is very quiet this year; I feel like it’s quieter than usual. It isn’t the heat-here by the lake it isn’t all that hot. There just isn’t any noise this year. If you close your eyes you can breathe in the scent of the dirt and feel a million miles from the city.

The new beans, barely a week old, are sturdy 4-inch high sprouts with 2 sets of leaves. Beans are my favorite sprouts—so sturdy and insistent. The beets are visible to the naked eye, and there are a couple tiny broccoli sprouts, but I’ll wait to log them. Still no sign of the succession carrots, but they take a little longer to germinate; as much as ten days.

Pulled a half-pound turnip with a beautiful waxy sheen and froze the greens for stock. Snagged a few ounces of beans, most of them too small but I’m afraid to leave them for my furry little nemesis. Other than herbs there’s nothing else ready yet. The earliest tomatoes are just starting to pink, the cukes and zukes got their first flowers just this week; the eggplants are still in the blossom-drop stage. Hopefully they’ll settle in and decide to fruit.

I’m sure as soon as I left the little sneak thief snuck back out to snack. His passage through the rustling leaves is the only sound out there.

Late broccoli soup
The last broccoli florets
Large basketful of broccoli leaves (small leaves and large leaves)
Tender stems from the broccoli plants
2 small garlic heads
1 medium onion, diced
2 early carrots
6-8 new potatoes sliced in half or quarters, or 1 large mature potato, peeled and diced.

3 cups stock
1 cup milk or half-half

With the large broccoli leaves, the garlic and onion peel and the carrot greens, make 3 cups of stock. Keep hot. Cook the potatoes about halfway in a separate pot, drain and set aside

Dice the onion, broccoli greens and stems and carrots. While the onions are sauteeing, scald 1 cup of milk or half-half. Saute the onions in butter or olive oil until tender, press and add the garlic and saute for 30 seconds, then add the broccoli and carrots. Saute until the broccoli is bright dark green, then lightly dredge with about 2-3 T of flour. Lightly brown, stirring constantly for 2 minutes. Turn off heat. When it has stopped sizzling add about a quarter cup of the scalded, still hot milk; it will form a thick paste. Turn the heat back on low, and continue adding the rest of the milk, stirring it smooth each time. Add the stock about a cup at a time until the soup is the desired consistency (your call- thin or thick).

For vegan, obviously, leave out the milk.

Serve with baguettes and lots of butter.

This was way easier when I was 30

We're rehabbing my husband's home office. For some reason, this room didn't even get painted when we moved in nearly 30 years ago. It's pretty much the room that you close the door on when guests are over.

Since the kids moved out, our rehab mantra has been "do it right." This means proper wall prep, replacing warped moldings, and No More Paint On Wood, i.e. strip the woodwork.

This is the job that I got, while DH worked on the walls.

Think 12 hours over 3 days holding a heavy heat gun at about shoulder height or higher. Pain.

After finishing the main part of this task on Monday night, I was done in, but hungry. Almost almost ordered pizza, but I had these gorgeous 1/2 pound portabellos in the larder, so I made the following casserole, and I am very glad I did, because it was just what the doctor ordered. Flavorful and stick-to-your-ribs. Since I made this up as I went along, and I was way too tired to right it down at the time, I hope I can reconstruct now!

Mushroom casserole
2 large portabello mushrooms, diced
2-3 T butter (for vegan, substitute oil)
juice of 1/4 lemon
1 medium onion, diced
garlic, too taste, pressed
about 1/4 cup celeriac, diced very fine
3 T flour

2-3 cups Half & half, milk, or stock (vegetable or chicken)
1 cup noodles (I used penne, but egg noodles, elbow macaroni or your favorite shape are all fine)
2 medium potatoes, diced
something green- spinach, beans, peas, chard

Boil water for the noodles and potatoes (put the potatoes in first, as they take a little longer than the noodles). Once these are cooked, drain and set aside (or time it so everything is done at once). If you're using peas or beans for your greens, add them about 5 minutes before the noodles are done. Leafy greens can just be added to the casserole and don't need to be precooked.

Melt the butter in a large saucepan, and add the mushrooms. Stir until all the butter is absorbed by the mushrooms, then add the lemon juice. This will release liquid from the mushrooms and give your casserole a wonderful mushroom flavor. If you are using milk, it will not curdle the milk, don't worry. Add the celeriac and onions; you may need to add a little more butter to saute them. Once the celeriac is soft, dredge with flour and saute for 2 minutes. While you are sauteeing, scald the liquid; you'll want it very very hot.

Add a little of the scalded liquid to the vegetables; it will immediately form a thick paste. Continuing adding liquid and stirring until you have a creamy sauce. Prepare a glass or ceramic casserole dish (spray or oil), and add all ingredients together, mixing thoroughly. Sprinkle the top with breadcrumbs and a little cheese (vegans--what would you use instead of cheese to make a nice melty crust?).

Bake at 350F/175C for about 25 minutes or until the top is melted and lightly brown.

How foodie culture has made people afraid to cook

It's not just cheap, available, easy and frankly tasty boxed food, fast food and prepared foods (even the so-called "organic" companies have gotten into the act) that have made ordinary people reluctant to cook.

It's also the popularity of writers like Martha Stewart and even Michael Pollan or Barbara Kingsolver, as well as cooking shows that emphasize high end ingredients, professional preparers, and exotic dishes.

I love to cook, and I'm pretty good at it, but these shows, books, and articles are just plain intimidating.

They purport to be encouraging people to cook, but frankly, I'm not going to have "pizza night" where I have to make pizza from scratch, however seasonal, local, organic and whole I'm trying to be; it entirely defeats the benefit of pizza night, which is that there is no prep and no clean up. Do these writers not get that? I'm never going to hunt for chanterelles; I didn't even know what they were before I read The Omnivore's Dilemma, and I don't know anyone with a backyard clay oven. Can I cook a whole goat in my Kenmore, do you think?

We're never going to get people back to preparing their own home-cooked food by only talking about $12-a-pound morels, and turning up our noses at the perfectly fine, pre-sliced plain white mushrooms available at the Safeway. I love making scones, but grating frozen butter, per America's Test Kitchen, is just a pain in the ass. But apparently this is the only way to make "perfect" scones. We don't need another Hell's Kitchen, or Rick Bayless with his flawless urban farm; we need Prince spaghetti night again, where Grandma makes sauce to put on the readily available pasta from the grocery store.

Tomato-apple soup

This is a wonderful "leftovers" meal, which I made with the apple peelings from a simple homemade apple sauce (peel and chop up apples, throw them in a saucepan, simmer until it turns into sauce. A four-year-old could do this.) I served it with this morning's banana-apple scones.

10 small to medium tomatoes, cut in half
Apple peels and cores from 8 apples
3 large cloves of garlic, peeled and slightly crushed
1 cup apple cider, or any vegetable broth

Spray a baking sheet with cooking spray, and put all the veggies/fruits on it. Lightly salt and pepper (I used sea salt, but any salt will do), and drizzle with olive oil. Roast for 1 hour in a warm oven (300F), or until the tomatoes start to brown and shrivel very slightly. Put all in a 2 quart sauce pan, including draining any liquid. Add the cider or stock; all the veggies should be covered, just. If they are not, add more water. Simmer until the tomatoes have lost all shape and the skins have slipped off. Run this through a food mill until all seeds, skins, pits, etc have been seived out, return to the sauce pan and smooth with a handheld immersible blender, or smooth it in the blender or food processor. Makes enough for two large or three to four smaller servings.

This does not need any additional spice, herb, or garnish.

Giving food away

I hate to give away food.

Sounds hateful, doesn't it? But I have a terrible time picking produce from my garden with the intent to donate it to a food pantry, or gift it to a friend.

This guilty little secret was mitigated this year because I took charge of the "Farm2Give" plots at Peterson Garden--seven 4x6 beds which were put in specifically to give away. So I got to feel all good about myself, as we've donated more than 50 pounds of food so far.

But I've had a lot of extra produce in my own garden as well, and it's all sitting in my larder.

I started thinking about this because my dear friend B has been hit hard with both breast cancer and an ovarian cyst-- they found the two tumors within a span of a few days. So I spent the morning today making food for her-- cucumber soup, squash soup, pesto, jam-- from my precious store. The squash soup especially is delicious. The pesto used up half of the plants that are still in leaf. I love B with all my heart, but it's killing me to give this stuff away.

I suppose in a way that makes it the more special-- it's not much of a gift if it doesn't mean anything to you.

The hoarding of food is built into our genes. Above I use the term "precious store" facetiously, but food is, in fact precious. It barely even qualifies as race memory to save food. Within living memory, you saved food or you and your family died. Modern food keeps- in refrigerators, or in cans, or simply on the shelf through untested modifications like irradiation. I would guess that something like potato chips have a shelf life measured in years. Because food is now easy-- grown, cooked, and preserved by someone else-- we don't value our food as much.

I value my food. It's entirely possible that I love my winter melons more than I love my children; I hope it's never put to the test. I don't quite name each tomato, but I do refer to them by gender. My food is precious to me. Here's hoping that the goddess understands, and bestows extra blessing on it for my friend.

Roasted autumn vegetable soup with roasted squash seeds
1 medium squash (about a pound), seeded (conserve the seeds)
4-5 small parsnips
2-3 cloves garlic
3 cups vegetable stock (I used a carrot green-based stock)
garam masala
white pepper

To roast the squash, parsnips and garlic: heat the oven to 350. Halve squash lengthwise and scoop out the seeds. Set these aside. Peel and roughly cut the parsnips (about 1" chunks), and peel the garlic. Put all on a baking sheet, and either brush fully with olive oil, or spray with a cooking spray. Put in the hot oven for about 40 minutes. Check the garlic at 20 minutes; if it's started to brown, remove it. When the vegetables are all done, allow them to cool until you can handle them. Scrape out the squash meat, and put this in a large soup pot with the garlic, parsnip chunks, and spices. Simmer for 20 minutes, or until the parsnips are soft, then blend with an immersible blender, or decant into a food processor or blender, until smooth. Non-vegans serve with a little cream, topped with:

Roasted squash seeds
Gently remove the meat and string from the conserved squash seeds (just squeeze them in your hands; the seeds will pop out). Spread these on the same baking sheet you just used (why wash two?) and allow them to dry for about 10 minutes. They'll go from slimy to sticky; you don't want them to dry all the way. Dredge them with seasalt until they are completely coated, then with some garam masala. Pat them down on the baking sheet, and roast at 350 for 5 to 8 minutes, or until lightly brown.

Letting the garden call the shots

One of the things that gardening teaches you is how to let go. Every gardener starts the season with a plan-- the lettuce gives way to the peas which lead to the chard, then switch over to beans, after which the broccoli starts bearing. Mother nature is extremely clever this way.

You can find books and charts and advice that will give you a perfect succession of veggies so that you have your own fresh farmer's market out back all summer, with something new just about to ripen every week.

And then the rabbits eat all the beans. And the slugs get the broccoli. Because, as every gardener knows, Mother Nature, while extremely clever, is the original Bitch Goddess.

You can be a gardener all your life and still get caught flat-footed by each year's special problem. Last year-no tomatoes. This year the carrots were slow and the rabbits prolific. I decided to try pole beans this year, just because I never have, and turns out I hate growing them. They're slow and ugly and don't bear very well. But the space is committed. So between them and the rabbits, no beans this year.

On the other hand, the swiss chard took off like a rocket, and has continued to bear and bear and bear through storms, cold, heat, drought and critters. So I've adapted my expectations, and my menu. You can plant whatever you like, but the garden is in charge.

Portobello-stuffed swiss chard leaves

20 large Swiss chard leaves
2-3 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil *
1 shallot or onion,diced
3 Portobello mushrooms diced
2-3 Tbsp soy sauce
1 cup rice*, cooked
3 Tbsp crushed walnuts*
herbs, dried or fresh, to taste (I used tarragon)
1/4 cup chicken or vegetable stock

bowl of ice water

Preheat oven to 350°F (180°C).

Wash chard and cut stems from leaves. Dice stems very fine and saute in the soy sauce until the liquid is gone. Set aside in a large mixing bowl.

In a pot of boiling water, blanch chard leaves for 1 minute, then immerse immediately in a bowl of ice water, drain and set aside. (This will stop them from continuing to cook).

In a skillet over medium heat, saute onion in olive oil until just going soft, add mushrooms, and cook 3 - 4 minutes until all oil and liquid is absorbed. Mix with chopped chard stems, walnuts and cooked rice. Add seasonings.

Carefully lay out chard leaves-- lay one leaf then place a second one across it in the middle at right angle s(so you have a chard "X"). In the centre spoon some stuffing, then fold over the crossed leaf, tuck in the corners, and fold the bottom leaf to create a flat pocket. Place the stuffed leaves in a lightly greased 9x9" baking dish with stock in the bottom.

Cover and bake 15 - 20 minutes. Makes 10 child-fist sized wraps.

Nasturtiums are not just for salads

I’m growing Nasturtium 'Spitfire' for the Garden Bloggers Grow Project. (Thanks to Renee's Garden for the seeds.)

I had thought to grow them up my trellis, but you have to train them since they aren't really climbers--they need to be tied, and the stems keep breaking, because they want to trail. Fortunately, I also planted some along the high edge of one of my vegetable beds, so I'll let them just trail there, and maybe tie a few up the smaller plant stand that they are under.

The ones on the gate and back by my fence are small-too shady for these, but the latest planted-under a plant stand- seem to be thriving.

Nasturtiums, of course, are not just a beautiful flower. They are also a garden beneficial, attracting aphids away from more desirable plants like tomatoes, and are also edible. I often pop a nasturtium flower in my mouth when I'm working outside, for the quick delicious peppery taste, and for a little water.

Recently,the getinthegarden.com blog came up with the wonderful idea of nasturtium dolma. My leaves were not quite large enough (you need palm-sized leaves to be able to roll them), but I made this layered casserole.

Nasturtium Dolma
1 1/2 cups cooked pearl barley
1 small summer squash, diced
1/4 cup pine nuts
small onion, diced
mushroom (any type), diced
cardamom, garam masala, sea salt, black pepper to taste

Stir fry the vegetables and nuts in a little sesame oil; add the spices and continue to saute until the veggies are coated with the oil and spices. Add the cooked barley and saute another 5 minutes or so, until it's all hot and mixed.

Lay out several nasturtium leaves and lay a spoonful of filling on each, then fold and place them side by side in a loaf pan so that the edges of the leaves hold each other up like little envelopes. You don't need to brine or pre-cook the leaves; laying the hot filling on them cooks them slightly, making them a little easier to handle.

Bake at 300F/145C for 20 minutes. Serve with yogurt-cucumber sauce.

(Warning- they fall apart, but are delicious)

What's happening at Peterson Gardens?

I'm working with a wonderful group of people, headed up by LaManda Joy of The Yarden on a great new community project-- the Peterson Garden Project. Little plan (not so little) is to get this community garden going in Chicago's 40th ward (northwest side). Big plan is to inspire Chicagoans to revive the Victory Gardens movement and grow their own food.

Les, one of the gardeners and a member of the core planning group, was there last night, supervising the site:

"Coming in this evening was quite spectacular. People were already working in the garden and as time went on, people were bringing in plants, shovels, and their excited faces; ready to plant in their wonderful garden space! Definitely was a great feeling just watching these people. I didn't even work on my plot because I didn't want to take up any shovels or wheel barrels, they seem so happy to work and I didn't want to stop them!!! So fun and I'm so happy to be part of this. I just kept thinking as the next group kept coming, about the movie "Field of Dreams," ..."if you build it, they will come." And they did and this wasn't even half of the garden who came out. I'm sure this weekend will bring a drove of people, already caring for their plants or starting to fill their beds with soil or helping each other out, which I seen neighbors doing already!!!

And btw Blackhawks win the Stanley Cup!!!

We probably won't have anyone growing asparagus (yet! who knows?) but you could make this soup right now if you had a garden, substituting peas for the aspargus (or spinach! or in the fall, tomatoes or parsnips!)

Puree of Asparagus (or any vegetable) soup

• 2 bunches fresh, in season asparagus
• 1 medium onion, chopped
  
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 5 to 6 cups broth (chicken or vegetable; I used a radish-based one that I had on hand)
  
• 1 pint half-and-half (leave this out, obs, for vegan)
  
• 3 small potatoes (especially for vegan, this will help thicken it)
  
• seasoning: 1-2 teaspoons ground white pepper, 1 teaspoon ground (fresh if you have it) coriander, sea salt to taste
  

Cut asparagus tips about 1 1/2 inches from top, and stalks into 1/2-inch piece; set aside. Cut potato into small chunks and boil until soft. Discard water, then return the potato, asparagus and diced onion to the same pot and saute in the butter until asparagus is soft. Remove about 10 tips and set aside. Add broth and cook until asparagus is very soft, aboug 15 to 20 minutes, then add cream and simmer about 5 minutes. Add

Purée soup in batches in a blender, or with a hand-held immersible blender in the pot until smooth, transferring to a bowl (use caution when blending hot liquids). Add more broth or a little milk or cream to thin soup to desired consistency. Garnish with reserved asparagus tips and fresh parsley.

A hundredth of an acre

Not that it's really possible to calculate, since my garden is like me: a little sideways, a little chaotic, a little haphazard, and always wandering off to do something else, but I think I have 435 square feet of vegetables.

One hundredth of an acre.

I feed four people with this. Two of them don't live here right now, so I pack up food and send it home with them. Anyone who works in my garden gets some too. I'm trying to grow/preserve enough to make it through January this year, and I'm trying to do it using as few appliances as possible. (It seems silly to plant a garden and then buy 14 different appliances, all shipped from China, to preserve it.) I'm able to fuss with my garden, since it's so small, in a way that a giant potager or a small farm can't-- the more space the more you have to trust that you'll lose some, but there's enough extra to make up the difference.

Although I joke that I grow on the Shaker system-- a third for the family, a third for the parish and a third for G*d (in his guise as the critters)--really, there's nothing to spare. I plant 40 snow pea seeds. If I lose half, that's half our meals for a month. On the other hand, I can individually tie every one of them to their supports, which is something I did today. I don't have to thin my lettuce; instead, I can pull the tender seedlings and rearrange the rows, or slip them in bare dirt somewhere else, because there are only a hundred of them.

Every sprout is a precious child, and I take joy in each. With a 10th of an acre, or a quarter, I wouldn't feel each tiny life elbowing or spearing its way to the surface.

So a hundredth of an acre isn't very much. But I very much believe that it's one hundredth of an acre that is helping to save the planet.

Spring Stir Fry with early vegetables
1/2 tofu cake
1 rhubarb spear, diced
1 bunch asparagus
3 cups spinach

Dice the rhubarb and macerate in 1 Tablespoon sea salt and 1 tablespoon sugar. Let sit for 10 minutes. Cube the tofu, and drain it on a paper towel to draw off some of the moisture. Saute in a hot wok in a couple tablespoons of sesame or peanut oil. Add the rhubarb, including any moisture. Saute until the moisture has steamed off. Add the asparagus and saute til it's bright green. Add the spinach and saute until it wilts.

Add soy or oyster sauce, or leave as is. Serve over rice.

Yet another project

Just because I don't really have enough to do, what with teaching, working for a theater as a fundraiser, putting in my garden and trying to get Hipster Supported Agriculture going, I'm going to be volunteering with a wonderful new project in Chicago to get Victory Gardens going again.

The Peterson Garden Project is an organic, community vegetable garden on the corner of Peterson and Campbell in Chicago’s 40th Ward. Thanks to the incredible energy of The Yarden (aka LaManda; really, never get to know this woman if you don't want to be drawn into her vortex of wonder), neighbors will once again be able to garden on this historic strip of Peterson Avenue. I've signed on as a volunteer in fundraising, sweat equity, and as part of the teaching team for new gardeners.

I went to the groundbreaking this morning (that's LaManda with Alderman O'Connor), and it was thrilling to see people who've been living just a block away from each for decades meeting at the garden for the first time. This week we'll be there with shovels, wood for raised beds, and piles and piles of dirt to get it going in just a few days, in time for Chicago's main growing season.

The site was part of an original WW2 Victory Garden from 1942-1945. This revival Victory Garden is being launched for the 2010 growing season for Chicago residents who, like those gardeners almost 70 years ago, want to work with their neighbors to grow their own food. One of the amazing things that LaManda discovered when she started researching the site was that the WWII Victory Garden movement actually started in Chicago.

I also scored a wild Marsh Fleabane (Erigeron philadelphicus) that had taken root in this currently abandoned lot. I'm fairly shameless when it comes to asking people if I can dig up their plants. This is how I got most of my ornamentals. Transplanted it to my "Woodland" patch which I think is about to morph into a Prairie patch, since that's also where I've put some wild chamomile, and the One Seed Chicago beebalm.

I made this biryani for a volunteers meeting earlier this week, and anticipate providing many more treats and meals for this incredible group of people.

Vegetable-nut biryani
1 1/2 cups basmati rice, cooked in broth (I used the dregs of some coconut milk mixed with water)
Cut greens (I had arugula, radish greens, and spinach from the garden)
sliced carrots
1 medium onion, sliced
1/2 red bell pepper, diced
1 cup raisins, plumped
1 cup crushed walnuts

Spices: curry powder, crushed coriander, turmeric (for color)

Prepare the rice according to package instructions, with 1-2 teaspoons of turmeric for color. Five minutes before it’s done, add the raisins (just put them on top and re-cover the pot, no need to mix them in.)

Heat enough olive oil to cover the bottom of a large frying pan, add curry and crushed coriander to the oil and heat until it just starts to steam; add the vegetables and sauté for a couple of minutes. Add the nuts; sauté for a minute or two. Add the greens and sauté until they are bright green. If the rice is not done, turn the heat under the veggies down (or off if it's going to be more than about 5 minutes).

Mix together, salt and pepper to taste.

This also keeps extremely well.

Putting in the garden

I cheated the frost date by a day, and put seeds into my garden today.

The very first thing I ever grew on purpose was an edible- raspberries from the backyard of my friend Holly's grandparents. More than 20 years later, they're still going strong, with offspring growing in other Chicago gardens, as well as in friends' gardens in Ontario, New York, and Nebraska.

What with losing half my employment this year, I decided to take on numerous web challenges: the Growing Challenge to put in something new every year; Project Grow for Spitfire nasturtiums, which several dozen gardeners all over North America are testing for Renee's seeds; Eat Real Food to try to eat SLOW: Seasonal, Local, Organic, Whole.

My own personal challenge is to grow and preserve enough vegetables to make it through January. I routinely get into November still harvesting, but I haven't put as much energy into saving my food.

I've got 480 square feet+, including a new bed that increased the growing area by a third. Over the next several weeks, I'll slowly be planting seeds and starts. So here's my garden this year:

The Serpentine Bed
Cherry Tomatoes, Black Beans, Roma VF tomato to save seeds for Populuxe seed bank/, Broccoli, turnips/ climbing beans/ cucumber, winter melon, dill/ onions, beets, carrots.



The Wagon Wheel Bed
Two types of eggplants, Dragon Tongue beans from MrBrownThumb, Spitfire nasturtiums/Blue Lake and Slenderette bush beans, 5 types of heirloom tomatoes, parsley, garlic/ parsnips, leeks, spinach, onions/snow peas, radishes, then shell beans in succession, bell peppers in pots.

Garage sideyards
Pumpkin and mustard
Greens, then asparagus, raddichio, bok choy/broccoli

Three sisters bed
Two types of heirloom corn, Ghost rider pumpkin and Butternut squash from Chiot's Run, pole beans, nasturtiums plus shishito peppers in a pot.

The Savory bed
Parsley, sage, rosemary, thyme, chamomile, cilantro (coriander), summer savory, caraway, taragon, mint in a pot, plus fragrant ornamentals

Here and there: cabbage, brussels sprouts, strawberries, concord grapes, blueberries, raspberries, blackberries, more chamomile, more mint, more cilantro, lavender, salad burnett.

Many of the seeds came through swaps from the community on MyFolia.com, and a good number of them from Chicago garden bloggers through Shady Swap. The pictures are from last fall.

I also have 600 square feet or more of ornamentals and a pond. I do not have lawn.

So-delicious it might be illegal Tilapia in coconut lime sauce with asparagus

3/4 cup unsweetened coconut milk
Zest and juice from two limes
1 T finely diced candied ginger
1 T finely diced cilantro leaves (from the garden)
1 T peanut oil
Salt and pepper to taste

1 pound tilapia from freshpicks.com

Fresh asparagus in season

Put all sauce ingredients in a small food processor or blender and mix. Melt 2 T butter in a frying pan, sear both sides of the tilapia, then add the sauce and simmer til fish is cooked through. Place asparagus on top of it, turn heat to low or intermittent, cover and steam until asparagus is bright green.

For vegan, substitute portobello or lots and lots of shiitake mushroom, plus pine nuts for the fish.

Serve over basmati rice.