Expanding Our Vegetable Options

Two months ago a very fortunate thing happened. Farmer Paul and I met Graham Kerr – The Galloping Gourmet. Thanks to a mutual friend and impeccable timing, we spent a very enjoyable lunch hour talking with Graham and he shared with us his excitement about his upcoming book which is completely focused on vegetables.

And, during the one hour we spent with him, Graham was able to do something I have not managed in almost twenty years of marriage – he convinced Farmer Paul to try brussels sprouts. He told him that, when cooked properly, sprouts are delicious. He convinced him that they’re not mini-cabbages. He made Paul promise to try them.

And so, Paul tried them tonight.

To put this in proper perspective, you must realize that twenty years ago, during our first years of marriage, I was shocked to discover that there was one – yes, ONE green vegetable that Paul would eat. Green Beans. Cooked southern style – that is to say, slow boiled with bacon until very, very tender. That’s it. (Unless you count an occasional salad….a very occasional salad.)

Slowly over the years, my cooking skills and his trust in these skills has persuaded him to try numerous other veggies. He now counts a multitude of green vegetables as completely enjoyable and welcome at the dinner table. And this enjoyment seems to inspire the kiddos to eat their veggies too. In fact, the whole family eagerly looks forward to asparagus, broccoli and big servings of salad all summer long.

And, happily, as of tonight, brussels sprouts are added to the mix. Cause Graham was right, and Farmer Paul does like them!

The Danger of Sharing Recipes

I wonder if there are people who were born with a natural cooking ability. With an intuition for knowing just what a recipe needs. With a knack for adding the perfect amount of seasoning and spice. With the instinctive touch to make the perfect adjustment that elevates the dish from good to amazing.

I wasn’t. I absolutely was not a natural-born cook. I became the cook I am today (which – all modesty aside – is a very good cook) after years of hard work combined with a willingness to accept critique and the generosity of others who shared their knowledge, tips and recipes. And it is this last component which I am addressing today. Those who share.

My go-to cake recipe came from Mom; the recipe for the world’s greatest pizza sauce was given to me by my sister; a previous co-worker generously shared her husband’s secret for an amazing artichoke dip; I learned the secret to homemade fried rice during a brief conversation with a man who cooked at a favorite Chinese restaurant; and the list could go on and on.

But mixed in with all these treasures are recipes that are also missing. I never did get a friend’s mother’s famous apple pie recipe. The only person she would give it to was her own daughter who was sworn to secrecy. And I would dearly love my friend’s dill pickle recipe, but she has considered selling them someday, and wants to keep her recipe a secret just in case.

Personally, I have always been generous with my recipes. If someone asks, I share. To me, it’s an honor to be asked. And only once have I regretted it.

By all accounts, Paul’s grandmother was an amazing cook. Although I never had the privilege of enjoying anything she made herself, I did inherit some of her treasured recipes. Her biscuit recipe is unlike any other I have ever seen, and it is the only recipe I ever use. I used to watch Paul’s Dad make these amazingly light and delicious biscuits many times and saw how important it was to mix the dough and cut the biscuits quickly, flipping them in scorching hot grease in a searingly hot pan and then into a hot, hot oven where they rose perfectly and came out toasty brown and crispy on the outside while staying fluffy on the inside. It’s all in the timing. And if you know the timing and aren’t afraid of heat, they are easy to make.

Since I came into possession of the recipe, I have shared it outside of my immediate family exactly once. A friend of a friend asked me for my recipe and I wrote it down for her along with what I thought were detailed instructions. She was most unkind and vocal in her “review.” Words like “flat” “hard” and “extremely disappointing” were tossed about freely. She seemed to feel that I had done something to sabotage her family’s breakfast. She suggested that I was one of “those” cooks who left out critical information in order to keep the title of world’s greatest biscuit maker for myself. Or something.

I’m sure she over-worked the dough or didn’t completely preheat the oven and the pan or used old baking powder or didn’t hold her mouth right or … I have no idea. I just know that she was unhappy, and that made me sad.

When I share a recipe, its with the hope that they will enjoy it as much as we did. I am afraid to share my biscuit recipe again. I don’t want to disappoint.

What about you? Do you share recipes or do you keep them to yourself?

Tastes just like chicken

We are just finishing up a weekend of very, very hard work. It was the weekend for getting everyone their Thanksgiving turkeys and the last of the year’s chickens. What made all the hard work so much easier was the opportunity to talk with the people who have been enjoying our chickens all summer.

We were told over and over by almost everyone how amazing our chicken tastes. This contrasts dramatically with comments I get from others who can’t imagine that there could possibly be a reason to purchase chicken anywhere but the grocery store. I’ve tried to describe it to non-believers a number of ways. The best I could ever come up with is that our birds taste just like chicken, only chicken-ier. I wish I could explain it better, but there’s no way to describe the taste difference between our birds and the ones in the store.

It’s like the difference between a grocery store tomato in the middle of winter and one picked fresh from your garden on a beautiful summer day.

A bag of frozen strawberries or a basket fresh from the farmer’s market sold to you by the little 12-year-old girl that helped to pick them that morning.

Canned corn versus U-Pick corn rushed straight into a pot of boiling water.

Think about it in these terms. Of course there’s a difference. Now, think about poultry. You can have chicken that’s been raised indoors – even if it was raised humanely – or you can eat chicken that as soon as it was old enough to leave the brooder, had fresh green grass, juicy tasty bugs, fresh air and sunshine.

How could it not taste better?

I’ll take Things That Grow for $1,000

One of the best parts of living out here, and raising animals and having a garden is seeing everything change before our eyes.

The baby ducks…

and baby geese…

baby radishes…

And only a couple weeks ago these teenage chicks were these little babies…

And really, I don’t think this picture was taken more than a month ago…

So how did this happen?

Heartbreaking

© 2009 The Daily Herald Co., Everett, WA

Nick’s culinary arts school burned down Tuesday.

Gone.

Demolished.

Nothing left.

His teacher, Chef Becky, lost her knives, her notes and her cookbooks. I’m going to donate the three America’s Test Kitchen cookbooks to her. I’ll miss them, but they’re going to a good cause.

Apparently the other cookbooks she really likes are Jacques Pepin’s. I just can’t give mine up, though, they were a Mother’s Day present years ago.

Also in the same building was the Nursing Assistant, Medical Assistant, Dental Assistant and Computer classes. And everything is just gone. All the kids’ work that they’ve done over the year. It’s just so sad.

The culinary class will share the school district’s kitchen through the end of the year, and they’re hoping to have the facility rebuilt by next fall.

My heart hurts for Chef Becky.