Old vs. New

Sometimes I think Modern Life just sucks the dignity out of things. Take spaghetti sauce for example.

What glory is there in opening a jar (from who knows where) and pouring it (made of who knows what) into a pan and flipping the switch to Med-High? (Or in my case to High, as I like to cook things as quickly as possible. [My husband likes to remind me that 'burning' is not the same as 'cooking'. But I digress.])

Now, don't get me wrong. There's nothing 'wrong' with canned spaghetti sauce. In fact, I use it often. I do make sure it doesn't have high fructose corn syrup (banned in Germany, I found out yesterday) and that it does have organic ingredients. But still. Where's the joy?

But THIS year, I'm planning to make spaghetti sauce from scratch. Not just scratch but scratch-scratch. I'm making sauce from tomatoes grown either in my garden or in a local one (purchased at the Farmer's Market). With real garlic that I'll cut up with my own two hands. And onions with local dirt clinging to them that I will brush off myself. And herbs minced by hand. And I'll be trying canning for the first time in my life without Mom standing at my elbow.

I look forward to this winter, when I will pull one of these jars out and pour IT into a pan on Med-High. The simmer of the sauce. The bubbles slowly popping as my creation heats to perfection. The oohs and aahs at the dinner table as the saucy redness is poured over our brown rice noodles. I think it will feel glorious.

I just hope it tastes good. And that I don't botulize* anyone.

*botulize - v. to inadvertently infect a loved one with botulism

Modern Housework

This afternoon as baby napped, I folded diapers and realized that my dishwasher was washing my dishes, the robotic vacuum was vacuuming my bedroom, bathroom, and closet, and my washing machine was washing my clothes. No wonder I have trouble enjoying one simple thing at a time without thinking constantly of what else I could be doing!

from: Animal, Vegetable, Miracle

I'm still stumped for an answer, whenever the religion of time-saving pushes me to zip through a meal or a chore, rushing everybody out the door to the next point on the schedule. All that hurry can blur the truth that life is a zero-sum equation. Every minute I save will get used on something else, possibly no more sublime than staring at the newel post trying to remember what I just ran upstairs for. On the other hand, attending to the task in front of me - even a quotidian chore - might make it into part of a good day, rather than just a rock in the road to someplace else.

Roasted Butternut Squash Soup

I've had a hankering for butternut squash soup for the last week or so. But I'm trying to learn to eat food in season and not just because I want it - which also means learning when things are in season and when tye've been imported from Chile. Imagine my delight when I saw reasonably priced local and organic butternut squash at the Co-op this week! Here's what I made:

2 medium butternut squash
put in oven at 400 until soft enough to cut in half (about 15 minutes)
cut in half and lay cut side down, roast at 400 until squash meat is soft (an hour or more)
*tip: line pastry pan with foil to avoid run off into oven and onto pan

2 medium onions, coarsely sliced
3-5 garlic cloves, minced
1 generous tablespoon minced fresh ginger
1 generous teaspoon curry powder
a few tablespoons olive oil
optional, add a couple chopped tart apples
saute the above until onions are transluscent
add 2 cups vegetable or chicken stock
heat until simmering

puree cooked squash and sauteed mixture working in batches and adding up to 3 more cups stock so that everything gets smooth

transfer everything into stock pot on medium heat

add to stock pot:
2/3 cup sherry
1 teaspoon salt
pinch white pepper
fresh-ground black pepper to taste
pinch cayenne
additional pinch of curry if desired

add stock until desired consistency is reached (about 5-7 cups throughout recipe)
when hot (don't boil) add a couple cups Asiago or comparable grated cheese

enjoy for the week or with a big dinner party!

Dr. B., Rescue Me!

Moving house when you are a habitual renter means the dreaded clean up and final inspection. This weekend, I sent hubby off to the BX (or military wal-mart) for all of those potent cleaning chemicals that I never use somewhere I actually live. But it's gotta be inspection ready, and the acrid and sickly sweet scents of synthetic cleansers, degreasers, and sudsing agents--not vinegar and tea tree oil--are the smell of clean to most leasing agents.

Anyway, all of the magic all-purpose cleaners and super scrubbing powders scored us a surprisingly low move-0ut assessment, but they also added at least five years to my poor chaffed and burning hands! I can't wait to get back to my gentle down-to-earth Dr. Bronner's soap and homemade multi-purpose spray.

Makin' Hearts Ache

Every now and then I get a yearnin' for home deep in my gut. I find that nothing cures or quickens it faster than a good Southern meal. So last night's tour de force was fried green tomatoes, fried okra, and creamed corn that I took off the husk myself. Oh yeah! I can't wait to share these delights with the baby!

An Offerring

There are so many things to do with fresh peaches. The problem is, this far from the lovely town of Gaffney SC, I rarely have enough peaches to do more than eat them one at a time over the sink with juice running down my forearm and dripping off my chin. In case anyone is wondering, the runaway juices are the telltale sign of a good peach.

I have a friend who is blessed with two mature peach trees. There are more peaches ripening each day than she, family, and friends can gather. As such, putting up a ladder to pluck from the high places involves dodging or destroying the many peaches that are in the process of becoming one with the earth.

My bare arms reached into the branches, gently pulled a peach, and hoped the removal of the one wouldn't precipitate the plummeting of the many. I didn't know peach leaves got inside your skin and caused prickly itching. We gathered more than four grocery bags full in no time flat. We divided them unevenly according to who thought they would use the most.

Not surprisingly, I took home two full grocery bags. Two pies, homemade ice cream, the vision of one cobbler, and much leaning over the sink later I am down to the last third of my stash. And I'm hoping that if I help my friend clean tomorrow, I can come away with another arm load full of the precious fruit loot.