Taking Notes

I spent several hours today backing up my Facebook Notes. I had been using Notes as a recipe archive a few years ago, finding it an easy way to include photos and send friends to the page when they wanted one of my recipes.

Apparently, FB stopped supporting the section as of October 31, 2020. I had noticed they were becoming more and more difficult to find, but I didn't know they'd gone away. Well, not quite; FB is not allowing any new notes, but the old ones are still there, if you can find them. 

(Go to your FB home page on a computer, not mobile; click on the ellipsis ... at the top; click Activity Log; click Filter; scroll down and choose Notes; hit Save Changes. You should see all your Notes listed. You can read, copy, or delete them, but can no longer edit.)

I'm going to post the Notes here. I was planning to do them in chronological order, but this one is fun, and we need fun right now, so here ya go: a classic from September 9, 2010.

Indian Sauce (1931 Recipe)

My treasure from the local library book sale yesterday is a copy of the "Grand Union $1,000 Prize Contest Recipe Book -- The winning Recipes, published in permanent form on the occasion of Grand Union's 59th Anniversary, 1931".

Pages 86 and 87 of the 1931 Grand Union Prize Recipe Book

 

It contains lots of ads for companies that no longer exist (including Grand Union) and for some that are still around (like Sunshine crackers and Crowley's milk). Every recipe has the contributor's name on it, whether it was one of the 28 prize winners or not. They're all from the Northeast, mostly N.Y. state.

And the recipes don't coddle the reader. Only a couple of them include oven temperatures in degrees Fahrenheit; some say "hot" or "moderate" oven; a few just say "bake" or "cook." 

 If it says to heat 1 tablespoon of Crisco with 1 clove of garlic, you're expected to know enough to chop that garlic up first. (Or not.)

When Mrs. J.E. Eckard tells you, for her Southern Sweet Potato Pudding, "Use enough sweet milk to make real moist," she expects you know what sweet milk is, and how moist is real moist.

And in the preserves section, the final step for Mrs. C.H. Chappell's Ginger Pears is "Boil four hours." After all, you should already know how to put the finished product up in canning jars. Doesn't everybody?

In the "Miscellaneous" section, the recipe for Indian Sauce, by Mrs. William J. Tipp of Watertown, N.Y., caught my eye. It appears to be a variation on chutney (hence East Indian, not Native American Indian). The really intriguing part was the final sentence. Makes me wonder if her descendants still have some around.

Indian Sauce

10 large ripe tomatoes, 12 sour apples chopped fine, 6 onions chopped fine, 2 pounds seedless raisins and 1 red pepper chopped fine, 2 pounds brown sugar, 1 cup salt, 1 gallon cider vinegar. Boil all together 1 hour, then add 1 ounce Pocono Ground Ginger, 1/4 pound mustard mixed with vinegar. Let boil 1/2 hour. When cold, bottle. Needs no sealing just put cover on to keep out dust. Will keep indefinitely.

9/05/2010

Better than Starbucks? Oh, yeah.

I had my first Starbucks vanilla scones today. Oh, my, they were good. But these are even better, if I do say so myself.

Back story: I tried an Andes Candy mint chocolate scone recipe from a card I found in the grocery store. It was awful. Just horrible. Downright disgusting. But then I got to thinking ... if I replaced the Andes with cranberries, and added some orange flavoring, and used white chocolate instead of regular ...

Orange-Cranberry Two-Bite Scones

 

2-1/4 cups sifted all-purpose flour
pinch of salt
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
3 Tbsp granulated sugar
1-1/2 sticks unsalted butter
1/2 cup dried cranberries, chopped slightly in food processor
1 tsp plus 1/2 tsp orange extract
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/4 cup white baking chips or chopped white chocolate

Preheat oven to 375 F.

Mix dry ingredients. Cut butter in with a pastry cutter until it resembles coarse meal. (This can also be done in a food processor, using only half the flour mixture. Add the remaining flour mixture in the bowl before adding cream.)

Sprinkle 1 tsp orange extract over cranberries. Stir berries into dry mixture.

Add cream and 1/2 tsp orange extract to dry ingredients. Mix lightly with fingers just until the dough holds together. Wrap in plastic and chill about 1/2 hour.

Roll out into a 6" x 8" rectangle. Cut into 2-inch squares, then cut each square diagonally in half to create 24 triangles. (A mezzaluna or pizza cutter works really well for this.)

Place scones on a parchment-lined baking sheet.

Bake 13-15 minutes or until golden brown and puffed. Remove from oven and let cool completely.

Melt chips; drizzle over cooled scones.



Based on Andes mint scones recipe: http://www.tootsie.com/rec_scones.php

Thankful

I didn't do the Facebook "30 Days of Thanksgiving" this year. Sometimes it's hard to come up with the words, much less the feeling. My family isn't one to sit around the table and make everyone say something they're grateful for before we can eat, so it's not exactly tradition for me.

But there are lots of things I'm thankful for on a daily basis.

1. Indoor plumbing. I'm not being facetious. I love that I can use a toilet, a shower, a sink, without having to go out to a little building in the cold or rain. I love that most grocery and department stores have public bathrooms. And that they're free to use. Camping for a week every year in a converted hayfield has reinforced this, but I've been thankful for modern plumbing as far back as I can remember thinking about these things.

2. Family. I disagree with half of them on everything and with all of them on something, but they're here for me. Right now we have four generations alive and kicking, and that's a bonus I'm thankful for.

3. A warm, dry home. Again, camping reinforces this, but so did a semester living with a local family at Cambridge, where central heat was not considered a necessity. It's darned cold in Cambridge in November. I'm thankful for the technology and construction that keep me out of the elements.

4. I'm rich. Compared to most of the world, that is. I may be one of the 99 percent, and on the bottom of that pile, even, but I'm thankful to have shelter, food, clothes, safety and a whole lot of luxuries, like electricity and the internet.

5. The internet. I'm not a people person, but I've connected to several new communities through the web, and reconnected with some old friends. I've made real-life friendships that started as a few words on a computer screen. I'm thankful that online relationships allow me to engage without being overwhelmed.

6. Food. I love food. I'm thankful that I have access not only to sufficient quantities of food, but a variety of foods from so many cultures and countries. I'm thankful for my garden, and also that other people grow, slaughter, process and provide the things I can't or won't grow myself.

7. Pets. I'm currently a crazy cat lady, with five indoor cats, two mamas with kittens that I'm fostering until they find homes, and a colony of outdoor cats that I feed, TNR and keep an eye on. I've always had an affinity for animals, and there are times they've been my comfort and my connection to life. I'm thankful that I live in a society that (mostly) acknowledges the worth of companion animals and that I have the space and means to surround myself with them.

Right now I'm sitting at a reasonably new computer, in a warm home, with a cat curled up next to me, waiting for the brine to cool so I can start my Thanksgiving turkey preparations. That's a lot to be grateful for right there.

Speaking of turkey, I'm slow-roasting again this year. It's a 15-pound bird, so I'll start it Wednesday night around midnight in a 450 F oven for an hour, then let it go at 225 F while I sleep. It should be ready long before our dinner ETA of 2 p.m.

The turkey is brining now, with fresh herbs that I've managed to coddle through the 20-degree nights: sage, rosemary, thyme, chives and chervil. For maple flavor, I added four decaf maple tea bags as an experiment. Smells pretty good so far.

I've done a maple glaze for the past few years and it's fantastic. The gravy is a bit sweet, but we always have a second bird done with traditional seasonings, so people have a choice.

Oh, and I use Michael Symon's cheesecloth trick. Makes for moist meat with a crispy skin. And it's really fun to peel off before you carve it.

Now, this is how I do it; I'm not a professional chef or certified food scientist, so if you have any questions, check with the experts. But dang, this method turns out a turkey to be thankful for.

Maple-Glazed Slow-Roasted Turkey

1 stick salted butter
One onion, cut into wedgesA few garlic cloves, crushed slightly
One fennel bulb, cut into wedges (optional)
Fresh or dried sage to taste
Fresh or dried thyme to taste
3/4 cup real maple syrup
3 apples, cut into wedges
2-foot-square (4-layer) piece of cheesecloth

Melt butter in saucepan. Add onion, garlic, fennel, sage and thyme. Stir in maple syrup. Bring to a boil, then reduce to a simmer for 10 minutes. Allow to cool while you prep turkey in pan.

Preheat oven to 450 F.

Wash turkey inside and out. Set on rack in roasting pan breast side up. Truss legs if you want; tuck wing tips under. Put apple wedges into cavity.

When glaze is cool enough to handle, soak cheesecloth in it. Drape cheesecloth over turkey, covering it completely (leave access to the cavity), tucking it in around the edges. Drizzle remaining glaze over the turkey; put the vegetables and herbs inside the cavity and cover the hole with cheesecloth.

Cook turkey at 450 for 40 minutes to an hour. (That's figuring from 12 to 20 pounds. Check the experts for more specific timing!) The skin should be browned but not dried out.

Turn heat down to 225. Tent foil over breast. Roast another 5 to 8 hours, until a meat thermometer inserted in the breast reads at least 165 F. You can go longer and hotter without overcooking at this low temperature.

Another advantage of slow roasting is that the turkey gets more evenly heated through, and generally stays hotter during the "resting" time before it's carved, so you can set it aside (covered) while you bake your casseroles and still have a nice hot bird

Peel the cheesecloth off and discard before you move the turkey to a carving board.

Cool.

My strawberries are coming on, and I've picked them twice. They're smaller this year because I didn't really take care of them until too late in the season last year, when this year's buds were already starting to form. Small ... but tasty.

 
I ate the first handful (above) myself, but the second, larger picking was cut up and served over slices of peach pound cake.

Still, I've still been buying strawberries at the grocery store. Lots of them. Too many, in fact. They're just so enticing, sitting there in the produce section, begging me to take them home.

And they've been on sale.

But this turned out to be a good thing. I finally decided to try out the ice cream maker I bought last year. It's one that you freeze, so it doesn't require salt. I always thought that was a waste of money (and disposing of the brine isn't good for either the septic tank or the lawn). I made room for it in my very crowded upright freezer. Had to pack a bag of peas inside it to fit it in, but I figured that would only help the process along.

I had seen a recipe for frozen strawberry yogurt that seemed simple enough. Of course, I forgot to bookmark or copy it. But this one from Taste of Home was pretty close. I adapted it, using vanilla yogurt and leaving out the extract.

Strawberry Frozen Yogurt

2 cups (16 oz) fat-free vanilla yogurt

2 cups pureed fresh strawberries (about 1 pound)

1 can (14 oz) fat-free sweetened condensed milk

1 cup fat-free milk

First of all, read the directions on your freezer if you are using it for the first time! I'm glad I did, because it said to prepare the mixture before getting the cylinder out of the freezer.

I pureed a full pound of berries plus a few from an open container. I ended up with extra puree. It didn't go to waste, though -- I added frozen pineapple and banana and had myself a smoothie while waiting for the freezer to do its thing.

Combine all the ingredients in a large bowl (they come to more than six cups in total volume).

Fill cylinder of ice cream freezer two-thirds full or according to manufacturer's directions; freeze as directed.

The freezing begins! Three(ish) cups in the cylinder, three(ish) cups left over.

I set the cylinder on a braided hot pad to insulate it from the metal surface. I wonder if wrapping it in a towel might be a good idea to help keep it colder.

Refrigerate remaining mixture until ready to freeze.

Allow to ripen in ice cream freezer or firm up in refrigerator freezer for 2-4 hours before serving.

Remove from the freezer 30-45 minutes before serving.

The original recipe says it makes 1-1/2 quarts, but I got 2 quarts out of it.

My 1-quart freezer took half the mixture, about 3 cups, for a 4-cup cylinder. It produced just about a full freezer after the increase in volume. I packed up 3 cups in a plastic container and decided the remaining cup was for quality control.

It passed with flying colors.

Hmmm. I've also been buying way too many blueberries ...

Taken off-guard, again

The garden is coming on, but with today's thunderstorms, I didn't make it out there. That leaves my tomatoes and zucchini still in their pots, waiting to go in the freshly cleared ground. At least I know they're well-watered.

So far, I've got peas and chives in bloom, rhubarb ready to pick (it's in the shade so later than most others around here) and walking onions thriving. Roma, yellow, pole and yardlong beans have been planted. The strawberries are fruiting, protected by bird netting.

Chervil has come up and gone to seed already. Ditto with lettuces -- it's just too hot to put more in right now. They all bolted two weeks ago, before I even got a decent salad.

The Joe Pye weed is over a foot tall, iris are blooming and the giant hibiscus are just starting to pop up from the ground.

It all happens so suddenly every year. I poke around for weeks, looking for any signs of green, and rejoice at every shoot ...

 ... then next thing I know, I'm surrounded by green (and yellow/white/pink/red/purple)!

A lot of the green, of course, will be weeds. One day I'm thinking I should take the four-tined cultivator to a section of weed seedlings, then the next I need to get out and pull two-foot-tall plants, like in the area I designated for tomatoes this year.

(It was planted in melons last year, which all got wiped out by a flood, followed by squash bugs. I'm hoping for better luck this year as I'm trying real watermelons -- the huge, oblong kind, not the usual Sugar Baby type.)

This was a good afternoon's work.

I've already wrangled my first rock of the season, too. It was in a spot where I wanted to put a tomato plant.

Yes, there are three other huge rocks right next to that spot, but I wanted a tomato THERE. So it had to come out.

 It took me about an hour of steady work -- digging around it, sloping the ground in front of it, working it up and pushing soil under it until it was at surface level, then rolling it (by sitting on the ground and pushing it with my legs) to where I wanted it.

The 1" x 4' iron pike is somewhat useful, but I don't know what I'll do when my trusty wood-handled shovel finally gives out in one of these rock 'n' roll escapades. I'm not sure they make them like that anymore.

That rummy glow

I learned about Atomic Rum Balls from a friend in California. Not being a big drinker, I had never heard of Bacardi 151 rum, nor did I understand the implications of a 151-proof beverage incorporated into a holiday confection. I quickly learned, however, where the "atomic" part of the name came from, as I began to experience that special glow.

The other day, I told someone to look up Atomic Rum Balls online, intending to direct her to the recipe I posted, but later realized it's only up on my Facebook page. So for the total stranger I was talking to in Target, and all other seekers of rummy goodness, here are the original and my Anna's cookies variation.

Mary's Atomic Rum Balls

1 sleeve (5.25 oz) Anna's Thins in whatever flavor you like

1 cup pecans, walnuts or almonds

1-1/2 cups powdered sugar

2 Tbsp powdered cocoa (or other dry flavoring, like tea -- see below)

2 Tbsp Karo syrup

1/2 cup Bacardi 151 rum (you can use another, or even a flavored rum, but then they won't be Atomic!)

Powdered sugar for coating

Grind cookies in food processor. Dump into mixing bowl.

Grind nuts in food processor. Dump into mixing bowl.

Add 1 cup powdered sugar and cocoa (if using). Mix. Add the Karo and rum and mix thoroughly. If mixture is too sticky, add more powdered sugar, up to 1/2 cup.

Refrigerate overnight.

Roll into 3/4-inch balls (about a teaspoon each). Roll in powdered sugar and place in single layer in airtight container. Allow to age a week or two for best flavor.

Some good flavor combos:

Anna's cappuccino thins, pecans, cocoa

Anna's chocolate chip thins, walnuts, cocoa

Anna's ginger thins, pecans, cocoa (or chai)

Anna's chocolate mint thins, walnuts, cocoa

Anna's almond cinnamon thins, almonds, 2 tsp. chai tea (loose, or open two teabags); spiced rum (= subatomic; I recommend Blackheart 93 proof)

Original Sal's Atomic Rum Balls

1 cup powdered sugar

1 cup Nilla wafer crumbs, finely ground

1 cup pecans or walnuts, finely ground

2 Tbsp powdered cocoa

2 Tbsp Karo syrup

1/2 cup Bacardi 151 rum

Powdered sugar for coating

Mix the dry ingredients, then add the rest and mix thoroughly. NOTE: You may have to add more crumbs or powdered sugar if mixture is too sticky. Refrigerate overnight. Roll into 3/4-inch balls (about a teaspoon each). Roll in powdered sugar and place in single layer in airtight container. Allow to age a week or two for best flavor.

Makes 2 to 3 dozen.

How to take a shower when you have Adult ADD

5 p.m. Say, "I'm going to go take a shower." Go to bedroom to get clean clothes. Straighten covers on bed. Adjust window shade. Notice book next to bed that needs to be returned to library. Put book by door. Take clothes to bathroom.

5:06 p.m. Close bathroom door. Notice mirror that needs to be mounted on wall. Go get pencil, drill, drill bits, hammer, screwdriver, screw anchors, mirror clips.

5:11 p.m. Try to hold mirror steady on wall. Fail. Look around for ideas.

5:12 p.m. Find box of cat litter is right height to hold mirror. Mark position on wall with pencil. Drill holes. Find out holes are too small for screw anchors. Drill bigger holes. Fit screw anchors into wall, except for one that bends.

5:20 p.m. Rummage through junk drawer; find thin nail. Notice a couple of dishes that need to be washed. Wash them. Return to bathroom. Forget nail. Go back to kitchen to get nail. Insert nail in screw anchor, pound into wall, remove nail, finish mounting mirror. Put away tools and pencil. Yay! Ready to take a shower.

5:28 p.m. Return to bathroom. Pick up towel and realize you have laundry on the line that needs to come in before the dew falls. Put towel down and go out to bring laundry in.

5:31 p.m. Take clothes to bedroom #1, fold, put away. Take sheets to bedroom #2; put fitted sheet on bed and set the rest aside for later because, by golly, you need to go take a shower.

5:37 p.m. On the way back to the bathroom, notice a tube of Neosporin and an unsharpened pencil on the table. Put Neosporin back in the medicine cabinet; congratulate yourself on not getting distracted by the pencil, because you're on your way to the shower.

5:38 p.m. Notice cat litter tracked onto bathroom floor. Get broom and dustpan and sweep it up. Clean out litter box. Put away broom and dustpan.

5:42 p.m. Pull back shower curtain. Notice tub drain screen is dirty. Clean it. Throw paper towel in garbage. Notice garbage is full. Tie up bag, take out, put new bag in bin.

5:45 p.m. Take shower.

Walking with the onion again

My garden has been busy during all this rain. While I wasn't looking, the rhubarb went from too small for picking to sending up a flower stalk. The walking onions are developing flower heads. The comfrey is three feet tall. The weeds are rampant.

If celandine was a cash crop instead of an invasive weed, I'd be rich -- I have it in every garden, as well as covering the compost heap.

And the lawns? Out of control. Some parts are still too deep in water to mow.

I found a few surprises, like some pink forget-me-nots popping up where they were never planted, and this parrot tulip (I think it's a Professor Roentgen):

The strawberries have taken over the sandy garden. I had to take up well over 150 plants just to make room for vegetables. The rest of the berries are blossoming.

I managed to get in a dozen tomato plants and some cucumbers so far, and planted seeds for bush beans, pole beans, pumpkins and peas.

Now that my walking onions are established in the garden, there are plenty of mature onions to harvest. On the other hand, the leeks have petered out and are going to need replanting.

So when I went out to get ingredients for asparagus soup, I ended up with one leek and two walking onions. I think it came out just as tasty, but I typed up the recipe for folks without the unusual bulbs:

Cream of Asparagus Soup

2 Tbsp butter or olive oil
1 large leek OR 1 small sweet onion*
1-1/2 lb fresh asparagus
1 quart plus 1 can chicken broth
Fresh herbs of choice (I used about 1/2 tsp thyme and 1 tsp garlic chives)
4 Tbsp (1/2 stick) butter or margarine
1/4 cup flour
1 cup Land O'Lakes fat-free half-and-half**

Heat 2 Tbsp butter or olive oil in large soup pot. Add leek or onion and saute until soft.

Meanwhile, cut tips from asparagus and set aside. Cut the rest of asparagus into 1/2" pieces and add to onions in pan. Saute about 3 minutes.

Add broth; bring to boil, then lower heat, cover and simmer until asparagus is very soft (15 minutes or more).

Remove soup from heat; allow to cool enough to put in blender and puree. If you have an immersion blender, you can puree in the pot. You can also use a hand mixer if you're careful, or just skip the puree step altogether.

Return soup to medium heat. Add asparagus tips and herbs. Bring back to a simmer.

Melt 4 Tbsp of butter. Remove from heat. Whisk in flour until smooth.

Add butter/flour mixture slowly to simmering soup, stirring constantly until soup returns to a low boil. Simmer until asparagus tips are done.

Slowly stir in half-and-half, mixing thoroughly, just before serving.

* I actually used one small leek and two "walking onions," each about 3/4" diameter. I used the white and green parts of the leek and the white parts of the onions.

** LOL brand fat-free is the only brand I've found that will mix instead of separating when added to hot liquid.

I'm not having a heart attack; I'm just ticked off

I've found a couple of TV ads really annoying lately. Actually, one is merely annoying; the other is both annoying and kind of scary.

First, has the pharmaceutical and medical industries' campaign to get people to take aspirin at the first sign of a heart attack really been so successful that people no longer know aspirin is a PAIN RELIEVER?

Is the American public really that ignorant?

Or are the Bayer ads, as I hope, patronizing and elitist?

Seriously, folks. Take two aspirin and call me in the morning. Aspirin, the wonder drug. ASPIRIN.

OK, now the scary one:

Guy is out camping with his shiny new giant pickup truck. He's relaxing in nature, campfire going, and there are nature sounds ... like a cricket (or maybe it's a peeper). So he goes to his big shiny truck (while the voiceover says "For the outdoorsman who goes to extremes ...") and gets out his bow and arrow. And Shoots. The. Cricket.

WTF?

The man is camping. Outdoors. In nature. And he kills ... nature.

What does this say about (a) the truck company (Dodge Ram) and (b) the advertising firm's view of the target audience, and, by implication, of the natural inclinations of men? Did some ad executive really go to a Dodge executive with "Trust me, this will really sell trucks"?

The only consolation is that after a moment of silence, a frog starts in. (On the other hand, I figure Mr. Extreme Outdoorsman will just fire off another arrow, and another, and another, until he runs out or nature shuts up and leaves him to his desolate, soundless void.)

OK, now that I've purged my ticked-off-ness, let's do a recipe.

We had 11 people from five households at Easter dinner, so there was a good assortment of food. There was a ham, applesauce, mashed potatoes, green beans and stuffing. Since I don't eat pork, I roasted a turkey breast and made (awesome) gravy. And there was this dish that I've wanted to try for a long time but never made, because one of my family members hates corn:

Southern Spoon Bread

1 (15-1/4 oz) can whole kernel corn, drained

1 (14-3/4 oz) can creamed corn

1 (8-oz) pkg Jiffy corn muffin mix

1 cup sour cream

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, melted

1 to 1-1/2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese (or other cheese)

Preheat oven to 350 F.

In large bowl, stir together all ingredients. Pour into greased 9" x 13" casserole dish.

Bake 45 minutes or until golden brown.

Remove from oven and top with cheese. Return to oven for 5 to 10 minutes.

Let stand 5 minutes, then serve warm.

Credit has to go to Doug Gruse of The Post-Star. I saw the recipe in Doug's column in the paper the day after my sister mentioned someone was bringing this, so I was pretty excited. And it did not disappoint.

Creamy, chewy, sweet, buttery, cheesy goodness.

O. M. G.

I have found side-dish nirvana.

A bright spot in February: The cutest cookies EVER.

It's been a long winter so far. And a cold one. Unfortunately, a lot of the very cold weather hit before the snow did, so I'm a little worried about some of my perennials making it through.

I was surprised in 2010 by how much of my garden flourished despite last winter's even later snow, so maybe it will be fine.

I got snowshoes for Christmas, but I haven't tried them out yet. It's just ... well, too cold. Or windy. Or dark by the time I get my chores done and have time.

My back and elbow are complaining a bit about the shoveling. The good news, I guess, is that between the two of them, they won't let me shovel so hard that my heart is in any danger.

The other good news is that I'm still unemployed. Why good news? Because I don't have to drive on treacherous roads to get to work.

I'm thankful for a warm home, plenty of food, indoor plumbing ... but still, it's been a long, cold winter, and I'm ready for spring.

* * *

My book club was reading "The Elegance of the Hedgehog," and we were scheduled to meet on Groundhog Day. I volunteered to make my Groundhog Cake -- little guy coming up out of the snow to see his shadow, cute cake, simple to make, involved chocolate.

Then I saw these online, and was smitten.

I adapted the recipe, as usual, to what I had on hand. The link to the original recipe is at the end. And yes, the photos are mine. They really came out that darned cute.

(By the way, the book club meeting was postponed a week, due to a snowstorm. So the cake would have been anachronistic anyway.)

Hedgehog Cookies

1 pouch peanut butter cookie mix, prepared according to directions

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

24 Hershey's Hugs or Kisses, unwrapped

2/3 cup creamy peanut butter

2 Tbsp butter or margarine

1 cup powdered sugar

1/2 tsp vanilla

2 to 3 Tbsp milk

1 cup toasted coconut*

Mini chocolate chips, or black or brown icing with fine tip

*To toast coconut, spread evenly on ungreased cookie sheet. Toast in preheated 350°F oven 5 to 7 minutes, stirring occasionally until light golden brown.

Prepare cookie dough per package directions. Blend in flour.

Scoop out about 1 Tablespoon dough. Wrap around a piece of candy, completely covering it. Shape one end to blunt point. (See photo below.)

Place 2 inches apart on prepared cookie sheets. Freeze 10 minutes or until firm.

Bake cookies 10 to 12 minutes or until firm and edges are lightly browned. Remove from oven. Cool on cookie sheets 2 minutes. Remove to wire rack; cool completely.

Cookies should be about 2-1/2 " long and 2" wide.

Frosting: Beat peanut butter and butter in medium bowl at medium speed of electric mixer until well blended and smooth. Add powdered sugar and vanilla. Beat at high speed, adding milk by tablespoons until mixture is of desired frosting consistency.

(Note: Tasty as it was, this was too oily to spread; I had to mold it onto the cookies. You may want to use a different frosting.)

Frost cookies, leaving pointed ends unfrosted. Place toasted coconut in shallow bowl. Roll frosted ends of cookies into toasted coconut to cover. Attach mini chocolate chips for eyes and nose on pointed end of each cookie (or use icing with fine tip).

Adapted from http://recipes.howstuffworks.com/spiky-hedgehogs-recipe.htm

Desperately seeking winter

This has been a Jekyll-and-Hyde season. Flowers in October, onions in November, then off-and-on snow cover:



From top, Dec. 6, Jan. 25 (thaw and flooding), Feb. 8, Feb. 16, Feb. 18, Feb. 24. Complete snow cover at last!

Now I'm just hoping the perennials that were laid bare by thaws, then exposed to single-digit temperatures, are going to make it.

The temperature see-saw has pushed a new group of ladybugs into the house. They mostly show up around the kitchen sink. They like sweets, so I put bits of fruit or drops of juice on the windowsill for them. But sometimes they find their own dinner:



Nice to know my baking is irresistible!

Aerobic weeding and other pursuits

The good news is, I'm not in traction.

There isn't really any bad news. It's just that, with this beautiful weather, I got out into the garden two days this week to do some weeding, and I'm happy to report that I'm not suffering for it.

What's so tough about weeding? Well, when I do it, it's with a shovel and a spading fork, digging up clumps of lawn that have sneaked over and established themselves in my gardens, pulling up the tap roots of dandelions and wild lettuce, shaking the dirt off foot-square pieces of sod, levering out dead rosebushes, hauling up roots of the catalpa I cut down this summer, moving rocks ...

After all the stretching and bending and lifting, I thought I'd be out flat. This time of year is probably when I'm least in shape, and I apparently inherited my father's bad back. But a couple of Ecotrin and I'm good to go. Yay!

I had three dwarf penstemon, a Scotch broom and a huge Queen's Tiara iris still in pots. They've withstood several freezing nights, including at least two at 20 degrees, and still look good. I got them into the ground, while digging up a few lemon balm to give away.

The lemon balm is not only still green, but has rosettes of new growth at ground level. Hardy stuff!

Unfortunately, my sage didn't make it to Thanksgiving:



Guess I'll have to use store-bought.

I still have to plant a Wine and Roses wiegela, some Japanese iris and a bag of tulips, so I hope my back stays just as happy as it is now.

While the days have been nice, some of the nights were downright frosty. So I've been cooking warm dinners (including another round of Walking Onion Chicken) and baking treats.

I've also been hoarding food. There was a 99-cents-a-pound deal on pears lately, and I bought half a dozen each of three varieties. They were so pretty and ... well, fruity. I made up a recipe for pear-caramel pie, but still had 6 pears left.

I wanted something a little different -- a crisp or a cobbler would be easy, but too much like pie. I thought about making chunky pear sauce for ice cream, but then decided on cake. So I looked up an old recipe for coffee cake and improvised from there.

When I chopped the pears, though, I had more than I expected, so I had to basically double the cake recipe. That's why it makes so much!

You know how sometimes you're asked to make something for a potluck, and it looks so good, you wish you'd made one for yourself? This makes two coffee cakes -- large and small.

Pear-Almond Coffee Cake
(keep-one-and-give-one recipe)

Cake:
4-1/2 cups flour
1 Tbsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup flaxseed meal*
1 tsp cinnamon
2/3 cup shortening
3/4 cup sliced almonds
1/3 cup dried cranberries
1 cup milk
2 eggs, beaten well
1 tsp vanilla extract
6 ripe pears

Topping:
3/4 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup flaxseed meal*
1/3 cup flour
1/3 cup sliced almonds
1 tsp cinnamon
1 stick butter or margarine, melted

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease and flour two cake pans -- one 9"x12" and one 8" or 9" square (or use just 9"x12" for one thick cake).

Peel and core pears; chop into 1/2" or smaller pieces; set aside.

Mix first six ingredients for cake. Cut in shortening with pastry blender until crumbly. Add almonds and cranberries. Stir in milk, eggs and vanilla. Fold in pears.

Spread into pans, smoothing flat.

Mix all topping ingredients except butter. Sprinkle topping evenly over batter. Carefully drizzle melted butter evenly over topping.

Bake 50 minutes to an hour, or until toothpick inserted in center comes out clean. If making two cakes, rotate pans after cake firms up. (Smaller cake will bake faster.)

*The flaxseed meal acts like shortening in the cake (and keeps it nice and moist in storage) and as filler in the topping. If you leave it out, increase topping ingredients (except butter) by a little bit. No adjustment is needed for the cake, although you could add 1/3 cup flour to make up the bulk if your batter is too thin.

Eating the walking onion

I told you I'd let you know when I harvested some of the walking onion and tried it in a recipe. So here it is.

But first, a look at the new babies that have rooted and sprouted:




I haven't dug or moved any of them yet, and haven't decided where they'll go anyway. It's a little shady where they decided to land, but maybe they like it that way.

So I pulled up half a dozen onions from the original clump last Monday and was surprised at how small they were -- almost like green onions, just a little bulbous. After I removed the skins and leaves, I didn't have much left to work with:




I cut the onions and the small leaves crosswise into thin rings and noticed they didn't have much of a smell.

I set them aside while I basted some boneless chicken breasts with mango-saffron-ginger sauce.

Then I started to notice a REALLY strong onion smell in the kitchen. Apparently, the fact that it was about 45 degrees outside when I picked them meant the odor was "frozen," and as they warmed up, it released. Boy, did it release! I had to cover them with a paper towel until I was ready for them.

I heated olive oil and a little butter in a skillet and threw the white parts of the onions in, cooking them until they were browned. I added the chicken breasts, sauce side up, and turned them when they were cooked halfway through. The onions stuck nicely to the chicken, and the sauce and chicken juice bubbled up around it. I then added the green bits for the last few minutes of cooking:



I served a side of Israeli couscous with baby garbanzos, orzo and red quinoa that I picked up at Trader Joe's in Massachusetts over the weekend, cooked with a can of chicken broth.

Conclusion: Walking onions are a lot of work for a little taste, but that taste is nice.

Before they learn to fly, they have to crawl

If you're freaked out by creepy-crawly critters, consider this a Halloween trick. If you like them, though, it'll be a treat.

I think of caterpillars as spring or summer insects, but a lot of them actually live late into the year and overwinter as pupae. I've seen some new (to me) in the garden in the past couple of months.

This one was on a hawthorn tree I cut down at the end of August. At first I thought it was eating (or being eaten by) a ladybug, then realized the "ladybug" was the caterpillar's head:



I took the photo to the county fair and asked around the agricultural building, with no luck. A friend identified it as a hawk moth larva, but that turned out to be wrong. I finally found it online. It's a beautiful wood nymph -- not to be confused with the pearly wood nymph, though the mistake would be understandable. (Check out the tagline at the top of that site, by the way.)

I don't think I've ever seen one of the adults. I believe I would remember a moth that looks like a stretched-out piece of bird poop.

The second crawler I found was a BIG caterpillar, almost the size of my thumb, covered in scary black spines:



I did a Web search on this one and found it right away. It's a giant leopard moth, a beautiful wedge-shaped black and white moth which I have seen on my front porch. Until I find my photo, however, here's a link. I wasn't brave enough to pick it up with my bare hands, though, like he did (after determining it was harmless).

While pulling up my dead zucchini plants the other day, I disturbed a fuzzy white caterpillar with tan and black markings:



I've since identified it as a hickory tussock moth. It was downright cute -- reminded me of a little fluffy baby animal, like maybe a bunny, all soft and cuddly. I watched it for a while until it uncurled itself and resumed its epic journey across the garden.



Turns out it's a good thing I only looked and didn't try to cuddle this little guy. Those hairs are poisonous and cause a nasty rash!

Before the frost

Okay, I'm still in mourning, but I'm pretty much over the denial phase. I've moved into the acceptance phase. I'm ready to look back at what I lost.

On October 11, before the killing frost, I took a few photos of some late bloomers, including these white dahlias:



They're now black and ready to be dug up and stored for the winter, along with some pink ones and a couple of cannas that I had in pots.

The pole beans not only had lots of beans ready to pick, but were still loaded with blossoms and promise:



At least I picked those that were ready, so we enjoyed a couple more dinners with them. I even had enough to put two meals' worth into the freezer.

The strawberries put out lots of runners. I still have to decide where they're going to go next year (and convince them of it).



Some wildflowers were experiencing a second season, like this chicory:



I even found a big mustard plant that kept blossoming right through the killing frost and is still going strong (this photo is from October 19 -- the dark green behind it is the dead pole beans):



And last but not least, an update on the walking onion. The tops reached the ground, rooted and sprouted, so I now have about a dozen new clumps. One more thing to reposition before the snow flies. And one more thing to taste, too -- I plan to use the parent onions in a dish yet to be determined ...

The REALLY dark tea-time of the soul

That's what my garden is in now. And, consequently, where I am, too. The dark season of destruction, endings and death. Most people know it as autumn.

I haven't blogged because it was just too depressing -- first the rain, then the tomato blight, then the frost.

Oh, woe is me; self-pity, sadness and sorrow. I didn't even want to go outside after the first frost, and we've had a few this month.

We had plenty of beans and cucumbers through the summer, and I even got a few strawberries off the first-year plants. My rosemary did beautifully and is now in pots on the front porch, along with some scraggly basil and a wilting Stevia.

The thyme never recovered from its early-summer haircut, though, and the sage died in situ. I managed a few tomatoes before the blight, but never got to do my salsa or the tomatoes, basil and mozzarella that I look forward to every year.

My pole beans, yellow squash and beautiful Lungo Bianco di Sicilia zucchini vine made it through the first light frost, but I didn't know about the second (harder) frost until midnight. I tried to cover the vine, but it was too late.

I did pick a few beans just before the hard frost, and one yellow squash, which awaits shredding and freezing.

Overall, especially with the tomato blight, I'd say this year's garden was a bust. The high point, however, was this white zucchini (actually light green), my only fruit from the many yards of vine:




I let it grow on the tomato cage until it touched the ground, then picked it so it wouldn't rot. I don't know how big it would have gotten if I'd had a taller tomato cage; it was over 3 feet long at harvest. I used half of it to make this confetti casserole, and the other half went into the freezer (shredded):



Confetti Casserole

2 small to medium zucchini*
1 medium summer squash
4 or 5 carrots
1 good-sized shallot
3 or 4 Roma tomatoes
1/2 lb. shredded cheese (mozzarella or mixed)
1 cup chicken or vegetable broth
1 cup couscous
1 tsp. herbes de Provence (or Italian seasoning)
olive oil

Grease 11"x13" casserole pan with olive oil.
Finely shred zucchini, summer squash and carrots in food processor or by hand.
Finely chop shallot and tomatoes.
Mix vegetables, cheese, couscous, broth and seasoning in large bowl. Spoon into casserole and smooth surface flat.
Bake at 375 F for about an hour. Serve hot.

This can be made vegetarian with vegetable broth, or even vegan with soy cheese. Or it can go the other way with the addition of cooked chicken or other meat for a main dish.

*or half of a 3-foot Lungo Bianco di Sicilia!

It's not a weed; it's a wildflower

I walked around the corner of my shed the other day and came face to face with these earth-fallen bits of blue sky:



Chicory (Cichorium intybus), sometimes called cornflower, is one tough wildflower, growing in dry, inhospitable places like road shoulders and the gravel base of my shed.

Endive and chicory root come from cultivated varieties of Cichorium, although you can also use the wild plant. It's been used as a coffee substitute or additive for generations, and as a vegetable for thousands of years. Horace (b. 65 BCE) mentioned it, along with olives and mallow, as part of his diet.

And while the sky-blue flowers are the ones that catch my eye, I've occasionally seen it with white flowers.

On a completely different note, but still garden-related:

While our growing season is limited here in the Northeast (read: New England), we enjoy beans, peas, carrots, sweet corn, zucchini and other squash, peppers hot and mild, melons, tomatoes, tomatillos, leafy greens, brussels sprouts and probably a score or more of other fresh vegetables. And a lot of us put up some of the harvest in jars or in the freezer.

Even if we don't have gardens, we have supermarkets where we can buy fresh produce year-round. But it's a pretty good bet you have a few cans of peas, corn and/or beans in your pantry.

In England, refrigerators tend to be under-the-counter appliances, and people make more frequent trips to the market for smaller quantities of fresh foods.

But is Old England really this devoted to fresh veg? From an article on independent.co.uk:

"No rational person would buy [canned vegetables] to eat, but sales soar around harvest festival time when millions of churchgoers and schoolchildren have to give a basket of non-perishable foodstuffs for distribution to the elderly. What the elderly do with them is a mystery."

I don't know about you, but I grew up on canned green beans, and for years I wouldn't touch those suspiciously crisp sticks Dad brought in from the garden. Now I like both fresh and canned, for their own particular attributes.

Like the way canned green beans squeak when you bite into them.

I LOVE that little squeak.

Green cheese

When I was a little girl, my mother showed my sister and me the edible "cheeses" of cheese mallow, a rangy, low-growing wildflower.



She and her sister ate them when they were little girls. Their mother and grandmother probably did the same in their own childhoods.



My family wasn't big on foraging for wild foods, but we did pick wild strawberries, and went looking for raspberries and blackberries in season, sometimes going to an old farm and braving a whole field of the prickers to get the fruit. But mostly, snacking on wild stuff was left to the kids (well-trained not to eat anything we didn't know).

I tried wild carrots -- they were kind of tough, but they smelled so good! And we chewed on lavender clover blossoms and red columbine flowers for the nectar. We called the latter honeysuckle, as my mother did; it seemed like an obvious name, since you sucked the honey out of the blossom. I was probably a teenager before I knew the real name.

My mother also showed me "sourgrass" (yellow wood sorrel, Oxalis europaea). That's the delicate shamrock-like plant with little yellow flowers you find growing as a weed in gardens and lawns. I've never been a big fan of sour tastes, so I was never in any danger of overloading on the oxalic acid it contains. Not that I knew about that as a kid.



I found some sourgrass in a friend's garden the other day and had her taste it. Passing on old-timey country lore, I guess.

I'm sure there's a story behind it ...

I try to notice something funny or interesting every day. Sometimes I have a camera or my cell phone with me, and I get a photo. Here's Wednesday's:




It's posted at the entrance to the road leading to the town salt piles (for you warm-climate folks, that's what the road crews spread on the pavement in the winter to melt ice). There has to be a back story. If anyone hears it, let me know.

Just so they don't go to waste, here are a few more recent finds:

You were expecting maybe sour cookies? Or savory? Or salty? Sorry ...




(Notice they're Original Classic ... and also New.)
Or you could just have a nice cookie.





Gee, I thought maybe they'd have a PRO-vandalism policy. (This sign was posted in the public rest room of a supermarket.)





And this one seemed a little sad: found in a Target rest room.

See what I sawed

I did some serious weeding today:



I had the truck all packed up with recycling and trash before I realized it was Thursday. The recycling center is closed on Thursdays. Change of plans.

So I put the truck in the garage and got out the chain saw. Rawrrrrr!

OK, it's just a little electric Remington with a 10" bar and a pole-saw option. But it does what I need -- it takes down trash trees that grow up along the brook and shade my vegetable garden.

Sharp eyes will note that the above "weed" is not a trash tree, but a catalpa. It's one of many babies our old catalpa generated before we had to have it taken down (professionally -- it was a double-trunk giant with power lines running through it). You can see another one growing up against the barn.

This baby was supposed to have been dug up and moved a few years ago, but somehow we never got to it. By this year, it had gotten too big to move and was growing up through the branches of an apple tree, shading one of my perennial gardens.



I was sorry to cut it down, but it had to go. Sigh ...

I had more fun tackling the overgrown honeysuckle bush with a combination of the saw and long-handled pruners, then hitting the stream bank and taking down what I think are ash trees.



I felled a couple of trees parallel to the brook and let them lie where they fell, but I cut most of them up into 15' to 20' sections and dragged them down back to the brush pile.

It's a job I've been putting off for weeks, but I'm glad I tackled it. (And I'm also glad I had extra-strength aspirin and a thermal wrap for my tendinitis -- one of the reasons I had procrastinated!)