her able hands » Friendship

Further thoughts on blight

Kelly — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 13:18:10 +0000

I haven’t had time to get out to the garden to pull and bag the blighted plants yet, and we’ve had several days of rain again, so I’m sure it’s spreading through the neighborhood. But school started on Wednesday for my first grader, and on our morning walk I noticed dozens of small gardens or potted tomatoes also in collapse. At the market yesterday tomatoes sold faster than the farmers could load up their boxes and I overheard many conversations about home gardeners losing their entire crop.

Marcy reminded me in her comment on my last post that it’s late blight, not early blight. We are about to step into September, after all. She also mentioned spacing and pruning, which I meant to talk about in my post, but obviously got all caught up in the drama of oh, my tomatoes! So yeah. These tomatoes got planted directly into a new lasagna bed with something like a 12″ spacing give or take an inch or five. In other words, all wrong. I pruned the heck out of them when I first did the runner strings from the bamboo trellis, then I went away for three weeks. During that time, it rained every two days and the sun blazed in between. By the time I returned, my tomato plants had grown into an unruly hedge that crept across the grass in every direction. I did my best to trim out the most offending runners, but good gracious, those branches were heavy with fruit and who wants to sacrifice fruit?

Silly me.

I doubt I would have survived the blight even with better spacing and pruning this year, but I know I’ll manage my crop with a little more precision and care next year, and will consider covering the soil with black plastic to keep the spores down. My sister and brother in-law do that with their blight-prone crops and I swear their garden was the only one in New England that didn’t succumb.

I did pick a big bowl of almost ripe tomatoes but didn’t have time to process them that day and overnight they rotted in the bowl. That was disturbing. I keep thinking of what would happen if I’d blanched and frozen them. Would they rot in the freezer? Or instantly when thawed? Ugh.

Also in the comments, in case you missed it, Farmgirl Susan pointed me to her green tomato relish recipe, which sounds super easy and delish. So, I’m going to get out there today in the 65 degree sunshine to pick the rest of the green ones. Thanks so much, Susan.

I hate to waste so many tomatoes, and we do like relish.

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Spinach, arugula, rhubarb, broccoli raab, green garlic, oh my

Kelly — Mon, 11 May 2009 14:06:13 +0000

Yesterday was my 42nd birthday–the first birthday in years where I didn’t feel any anticipation about the day or pressure to somehow celebrate. No party plans, just a relaxed dinner at home. I eased into the day with warm wishes from my family, deep snuggles from Lila, soft kisses on the back of my neck from Chris, a long hug and homemade breakfast from Tyler. Phone calls and gifts waiting in a small pile from family back east. Roses from my gang, deep and stunning in the pot my brother gave me. Neighbors stopped by with sweet cards full of sparkly wishes, honeysuckle hand lotion, cheers.

I pulled weeds and transplanted broccoli and lettuce starts, seeded some more greens, watered the transplants. The day flowed and the intermittent sun warmed my back and I didn’t have to fight to stay with the feeling of my feet on the land.

I planned a dinner of fish tacos, Spanish rice, spinach and arugula salad (from the garden!) with blue cheese, sauteed broccoli raab with green garlic. Chris snapped this shot of me with my first bouquet of broccoli raab and I wish I could also share the fragrant, sharp and sweet mustardy air that surrounded me.

The rhubarb ignited my dessert passions with just enough ruby stalks to bake a cobbler. I had starred Deb at Smitten Kitchen’s recipe for rhubarb cobbler earlier in the week, but knew I wouldn’t have quite enough mature rhubarb, so also picked up some decent looking strawberries (from CA, I know, sigh).

This is seriously the most scrumptious cobbler I have ever eaten. I made a few adjustments as follows:

OK, so my sister and I were talking last week about rhubarb cobbler and cornstarch and how gross and milky it makes the sauce, but I couldn’t remember what she said she did instead of the cornstarch, so I tossed it in. I really don’t like the look of it, and wish for a sauce that’s bright and clear and better complements the gem-like fruit inside. But believe me, I got over it. This is by far the most incredible cobbler I have ever eaten and I can’t wait to try the biscuit dough with other fruits as they come into season. Oh, peaches! And sour cherries, too!

The fresh food season has begun and my garden is beginning to fill the table. I don’t even have the words to properly express how happy this makes me. See photo above…the smile says it all.

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Fruits of my laboring breath

Kelly — Mon, 04 May 2009 12:39:40 +0000

Wheeze… wheeze…

I meant to take the camera out this weekend. The yard is spilling over with lush green and I’m sure the light in the afternoons had that gold-filter quality that makes the world feel this close to sepia. But I squinted a lot due to headaches and couldn’t get over feeling sorry for myself, so didn’t do very many of the things that I know would feel fulfilling. Now I have no eye candy to illustrate this post.

I think it’s allergies, but I’m not positive. It’s showing up differently than it has in springs past in that my body is throwing off histamine reactions all over the place. My tongue swelled and I bit it in the middle of the night. My eyes are rattling around dry in their sockets. I’m coughing and only sleeping because of the wonder that is NyQuil.

It’s much worse when I’m outside, so I moved between the house and small garden projects for days, stopping to rest often because my breath isn’t properly oxygenating my body. How can I feel so winded just bending over to pull a few weeds? Let me pull up a chair so I can sit to finish the job. What am I eighty?

Spinach and arugula are nearly ready to pick and the peas have begun to grasp the trellis strings with their bright, curly tendrils. I made a new patch for the raspberry canes on the southeast corner of the front porch, tucked in a sunny alcove so I can easily run some wires to support them once they shoot up.

The front porch is now one of the fruit areas in my permaculture quest. I dug out most of the mallow to move to an area around some trees by the driveway, and now will be able to tuck some broccoli, chard, baby bok choi and leeks in around the berries and pear trees. I’ll start a few more medicinal herb perennials in those beds, as well, so we can have a little bit of color and height variation. The real visual splashes will come from the cut-and-come-again bounty of the rainbow chard and zinnias.

So much going on in the background. Our renters are moving out and we’re back to trying to unload the other house at the same time Chris isn’t collecting any pay for his 12 hour days at his business (probably for a couple more months). Interesting times. I confess to struggling with keeping a positive attitude, but am satisfied to report that I have not sunk into despair or allowed the drama to pull me out of my life as it would have in the past. Feeling so ill on top if it all has sucked for sure, especially because my normal response would be to go out and work in the gardens until exhausted, and I haven’t had the energy to do that this week.

Life will have her way with me. No use fighting it, right? I can only point myself in a certain direction and take the steps as they appear. One at a time. Sometimes backwards. Sometimes forwards. Always leading me where I most need to go.

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R.I.P. Charles the Female Rabbit

Kelly — Fri, 06 Feb 2009 15:38:07 +0000

You were a good and patient bunny.

Lila will be so sad when she gets home.

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Baked Potato Soup or heaven in a bowl

Kelly — Mon, 26 Jan 2009 16:42:01 +0000

We’re eating a lot of potato soup lately. It’s cheap, easy to make and versatile enough that I can change up some ingredient to give it a new flavor so we don’t get bored. Recent incarnations have included freshly ground cumin seed, corn, roasted red peppers, hot peppers and kale (not all together…ew).

Chatting with Debra about the comfort and dependability of a good pot of potato soup, she told me she’s been making hers baked recently. We had to sign off so I never got a chance to ask her for a recipe, but the idea of baked potato soup knocked around in my mind for days and yesterday I fired up the oven to roast a pastured chicken and thought I’d make double use of the hot oven with some baked potato soup.

To my thinking, a baked potato is at its best when salty, cheesy, lavishly dusted with cracked pepper, sprinkled with crisp bacon and fresh, bright green scallions. How to turn that vision into soup?

Like this:

Set a large oven-proof pot or enameled Dutch oven on the burner, over medium heat. Cut 6 slices of bacon into one inch pieces and cook in the pot until crisp and dark.

While the bacon cooks, cut one medium sweet onion and two celery stalks into small dice. Peel a dozen or so potatoes, cut into one inch pieces. Don’t let that bacon burn or your house will smell as if a teenager made bacon and eggs for all of his Dungeons and Dragons buddies last Sunday morning. I’m just saying, because my hair still stinks.

Scoop out and set aside the bacon bits for the garnish and remove all but about two tablespoons of the drippings. Add the onion and celery to the hot drippings and cook over medium heat until transparent (about ten minutes), scraping up the crispy bits from the bottom of the pan. Add the potatoes and continue cooking and stirring occasionally for another ten minutes. Now’s the time to add the cracked pepper to taste. I like a lot, but you know your own taste buds so I won’t suggest a measurement. You’d probably think I’m crazy. Oh, and some salt too. I use Kosher salt for most of my cooking unless I’ve splurged on some Maldon, which is phenomenal in soups like this, but I didn’t have any on hand today, so Kosher, at about 2 teaspoons.

Add enough water or stock (vegetable or chicken) to just cover the potatoes, turn up the heat and bring to a boil. Now’s the time to pull the roasting chicken out of the oven and give it a turn because if you’re like me, you put it in upside down, about an hour ago after giving it a vigorous massage with herbed and salted butter. Now you’ll flip it so it’s tits up — hopefully much moister tits than they would have been if you’d cooked it that way from the start — and put it back in, but long-wise so you have room to slide the Dutch oven in next to the old girl.

While it cooks, grate 1.5 cups of extra sharp cheddar, chop 1/2 cup fresh Parsley and slice 4-5 scallions into thin rounds.

I don’t think you can overcook this soup. Mine stayed in for 2.5 hours (it was a really big chicken) and when I pulled it out and lifted the lid, it was a creamy, bubbling cauldron of yum.

If you’ve got an immersion blender (and if you don’t, just go get one already, they make cooking so much easier) whirl it up for a few minutes, but leave about half of the potatoes big. Or puree half of the soup in a blender or food processor and add it back to the pot. Now add the milk. I use evaporated milk (as does Debra) and depending on how thick you like it use 1-2 cans, or 1.5-3 cups of milk, or half and half, or heavy cream, or some combination thereof. Stir gently. Taste. Add more salt and pepper (you know you want to) but remember you’ve got a bunch of salty cheddar to mix in, and all of those bacon crumbles and scallions for the top so don’t over-do it.

Sprinkle the cheese and parsley over the surface of the hot soup and mix it in until the cheese is well-melted. Ladle into BIG bowls and sprinkle the homemade bacon bits and scallions on top.

When you’re done eating, I want to hear all about it. Seriously. Is this or is this not the best potato soup ever?

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Grace in small things: part 8 of 365

Kelly — Fri, 26 Dec 2008 01:20:30 +0000

1. You

2. And you

3. And you and you

4. And you, too

5. And me

Merry Christmas…

Let’s not make more bitter, contribute your own sweetener to 365 days of Grace In Small Things

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Grace in small things: part 5 of 365

Kelly — Mon, 22 Dec 2008 21:13:05 +0000

1. A well-timed phone call from my angel, Maxcine, sharing a customer’s glowing comments about the writing I did for her website. Pulled me right up out of the I suck at this writing thing funk I was sinking into.

2. Puffs tissues with the built-in extra softness.

3. Butter’s winter coat so thick and lion-y.

4. Merlot nail polish on the top half of my big toenails, reminding me that summer will come around again.

5. The yard covered in a dusting of snow and dotted everywhere with giant pine cones and littered with branches from yesterday’s constant, unrelenting wind.

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Nowhere and points beyond

Kelly — Sat, 20 Dec 2008 23:21:36 +0000

I had this friend. We traveled the road together for about 13 years and I figured we’d be shooting each other text messages in our eighties, or telepathically kicking each other in the ass from our respective front porch rocking chairs. But she decided she’s done with friendships, at least in the way and shape they have always appeared in her life, and that includes her relationship with me. No more.

At first I was sick, like stomach bottoming out kind of sick, mind spinning in search of a convincing argument to make her change her mind. And I fired off a bunch of strange apologies, and desperate pleas wrapped in sad attempts at consciousness and understanding. Then I got angry and spoke that, too. Some time has passed, which is a good thing. I think of her most days, often just as I drift off to sleep when her face pops into my mind, and it no longer makes my tummy lurch.

I think a lot about how it’s fine to not understand everything, and it’s OK to not follow the same path forever. It doesn’t need to be some big drama — loving someone even when they’re not in my life, letting go of the need to fix something, or to want something. It might be time to contemplate the idea that maybe there really is nothing to fix, to want, to need. Maybe the nothing is the point.

But I know I’m not there yet. Just listen to all of that might-maybe.

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