the continuing saga of trevor chang

A sad chapter in the life of Trevor Chang, our resident raccoon. As I do most mornings, I was working on an article in my study yesterday, and I happened to see Trevor standing in the middle of the back yard. Since raccoons generally do not hang out in the middle of my back yard, and it had been a month or so since I had seen Trevor, I went outside to take a closer look.

He wasn't afraid of me, and lumbered away, slowly. Not a good sign. He was also not afraid of the neighbor's golden lab, who bounded over in its dorky, happy lab way and started barking and jumping around when he saw the raccoon. REALLY bad sign. I decided it would be better to watch from my study window and went inside.

Trevor laboriously climbed up the elm tree. About two-thirds of his tail was missing, and he was obviously dazed and in pain. It was difficult for him to climb. I considered that he might not indeed be Trevor Chang, our resident raccoon, because he didn't know about the low perch in the tree, and he didn't know that a dog lived next door. In any case, he was wounded, and slept for a couple of hours in the tree. Around lunch time, I noticed him painfully sliding down the tree and making his way out of the yard (I hoped). I was wrong. He found the one tiny hole that I didn't block off around the bottom of the shed and squeezed himself under the shed.

Since I didn't want a raccoon dying under my shed, which is graded poorly and I'd have to dig it out, I opened up everything I could under the shed so he could easily get out, and I provided him a way to leave the yard. We tried to stomp around in the shed and turn on the lawn mower and even squirt a stream of water under the shed. After a few hours, I checked under the shed and he was still there, either sleeping or dead.

The neighbor said it was futile, and that the raccoon had parvovirus, which makes the animal chew on its tail and paralyzes its hind legs. He offered to help remove the carcass (did I mention what a great neighbor he is?). He also confirmed our earlier suspicion that the previous owners had a whole frickin' family of raccoons living under our house (it was too difficult to block off the vent spaces, apparently, so they left them open).

The whole thing seriously bummed me out. I shouldn't be depressed about one less varmint in our yard, but I was. And I was mad at fate for sending the sick animal into my yard. And I was mad at myself for not being more careful about closing off the access points under the shed.

I called a friend, who said I should let it rot and put up with the smell for a while. It's not a big deal, he said, just tell visitors that you recently returned from a trip and it's your carrion baggage.

I love my friends.

This morning, with a heavy heart, I went to go look under the shed again. Miraculously, the raccoon was gone. Mr. Reluctant told me he heard some scratching at the side of the house in the middle of the night, so I ran around and checked all the vent wells. The screens were intact, but there was sign of a B&E attempt, minor damage to the wood siding. But Trevor Chang did not reign supreme. i blocked off the shed and the yard access points, and paradoxically, felt much better that he survived.

He'll be back.

fortification fridays - what-am-i chopped liver

We celebrate Passover and Easter. Since Passover is my favorite holiday (wine, symbolic food plate, literary interpretation, celebration of freedom from exile), and Easter is my least favorite (pastel colors, egg dishes, ridiculous bunny, odd theology), it's no surprise that I enjoy Passover more.

This year for Passover I'm making beans. We're going to a kid-friendly, vegan, kosher Passover. Quite frankly, I shudder at the thought, but I'm playing along. Passover, to me, is all about the brisket and matzoh ball soup: the meat, dammit, the meat. But since the hosts this year are vegans, it will be about beans. Beans, believe it or not, are a contentious food at Passover. Ashkenazi (Jews from Eastern Europe and thereabouts) don't eat them for Passover, but Sephardi (Jews from places like Spain and the Middle East) deem them acceptable. Since vegans subsist on tofu and legumes, the vegan Passover will be Sephardic. Hence, my beans. I'd give you a nice recipe for Lebanese green beans with tomato sauce, but it's too easy. I'd rather give you a more traditional dish, if you are in the Passover business, or you just want to fool your friends.

Chopped liver!

Well, sort of. I brag about my meat eating, but I balk at organs. I invented this recipe last year, a liver-less version of chopped liver, for my husband who doesn't like liver but likes the idea of saying "what am I, chopped liver?" It isn't vegetarian by any stretch of the imagination, using chicken and stock, but it makes a grey mush that looks just like the real thing. Doesn't taste bad, either. It tastes like chicken. You can use it as a paté-like spread for any spring holiday you celebrate. And it will clog your arteries 53% less. I made it using already boiled chicken thighs from my soup stock, but you could bake thighs and save some for the spread.

I really hope the above photo of real chopped liver looks appetizing to someone. My fake stuff is a bit lighter and less grainy.

What-Am-I Chopped Liver

Vegetarian faux chopped liver usually contains lentils or mushrooms or both; this recipe springboards off those, but it is much easier to make because it salvages stuff from your already-cooked pot of chicken soup. The stuff still looks like gray mush and smells slightly off, just like the real thing. Hey, be glad you don't have to eat liver. All measurements are approximate.

Serves: whoever wants to eat it
Kitchen needs: working stove burner for chicken soup, plus food processor or blender

3/4 cup shredded chicken from the chicken soup you made last night. Flavorless is ok.
a small chunk of carrot salvaged from the same pot
4-5 small brown mushrooms, chopped (the ones that look like mini-portobellos, or heck, just use part of a portobello)
1/2 med. onion, chopped
a small handful toasted walnuts that you saved from the haroset
one hardboiled egg, if you must (optional)
chopped fresh parsley and carrot, for garnish
dark soy sauce
paprika
salt and pepper

Saute onions in oil until golden. Add chopped mushrooms and saute on relatively high heat to get out liquid. When pan starts to get too hot, add a few spoonfuls off the top of your chicken soup (i.e., skim the fat and use that, plus some broth). When nice and cooked and aromatic, take pan off the heat, then add some dark soy sauce and/or salt, freshly ground black pepper, paprika and the walnuts, egg if you are disgusting, chicken and cooked carrot.

Put the whole thing in a food processor and blend, blend to your heart's content. Again, it is supposed to be a spreadable mush. Garnish with chopped carrot and parsley; serve with matzoh. Enjoy, if you can.

P.S. If you are interested in vegetarian chopped liver, avoid the revolting recipes using canned peas, and try this one using mushrooms or this recipe using, what! beans!.

Photo courtesy of someone's flickr set.

a math bitch

Her: Hey, I need a math bitch.
Him [sighing]: What for?
Her: To do the pi-r-squared thing on the tree mulch to figure out how many bricks I need to go around it.
Him: I see why you need a math bitch.
Her: Er, I mean the 2-pi-r thing.
Him: If you know how to do it, you don't need a math bitch. I'll check your work.
Her: Nooooo...
Him: I'll give you a grade.
Her: Noooooo!

before and after shots

Since we're still very much in the "before" stage, having only a few months here to discover the big problems, I thought I'd bring you a before and after of a different ilk. I call it "remodeling: before and after glamour shots":

mellow yellow

We're going to paint the horribly dull beige exterior of Raccoon Tree Acres buttery yellow, with unsalted butter trim. OK, those aren't the real color names (which are Jonquil and Morning Sun), but that's what I'm thinking. We've been very happy with the Sherman Williams line (with which we get a substantial discount thanks to a friend), so I tried to match the color to the warmest, friendliest house we found. I called the professional painters who did the house pictured with a white picket fence, and they were kind enough to give me the name of their paint (a custom blend with IGI), but unless a larger swath of the yellow I have tested in the first picture turns out too yellow, I'm going to go with SW.

Just for reference, the last picture is the ugly current color, in the ugliest part of my house next to the driveway, under the now chopped off branches of the ugliest birch tree in the world. With the birch, whose fall foliage is yellow, we also have a Douglas maple with dark yellow fall foliage and the Siberian elm, with yellow fall foliage, too. I think it will look spectacular in the autumn, a rich little yellow cottage glowing in the sun. It will also look nice in the spring, with the masses of yellow and white daffodils, and the red camellias and salmon quince flowers. And in the summer, if you put our house under your chin, it will tell you if you are in love.

Now who wants to come over and paint?

fortification fridays - korean bbq lettuce wraps

If you've never had Korean barbecue, you should feel cheated. I desperately miss the grill we used to frequent in Oakland, California, a big restaurant with high powered fans over each table and waitresses who would hurry to the tables with pans full of real, honest-to-goodness wood charcoal, weaving through the aisles and dodging customers in what surely must violate all kinds of codes. Folks would grill pieces of marinated, succulent, thin-sliced sirloin, then wrap it in lettuce leaves with a dab of miso, a jalapeno or garlic slice for the brave, and sesame-scallion salad. In Korean, it's called bulgogi. In America, it's called dee-licious.

All is not lost, though. If you have relocated from the Bay Area, you're tired of the slow cooker, or you just plain want some barbecue meat in the middle of winter, I have the perfect recipe for you.

Korean BBQ Lettuce Wraps

Serves: 2 with no abandon, or 4 more reserved people, with rice and a side dish or soup.
Kitchen Needs: working broiler or BBQ grill

A.
2 lbs. thinly sliced sirloin, rib steak, or flank steak (an Asian supermarket will stock this, or slice your own)
3-4 scallions, chopped
1 T. chopped garlic
5 T. soy sauce (I use imported Kikkoman, also worth a trip the Asian market to buy)
2 T. sesame oil
1/8 cup sugar (original recipe is 1/4 cup, but I think that's too much)
2 T. sake or Chinese cooking wine

Combine all ingredients in A. to marinate meat for 2-12 hours. To cook steak, either grill on high heat (sugars will carmelize and it will cook very quickly), or place in one layer in a roasting pan with marinade and broil on high for 5-10 minutes (again, keep an eye on it, as it will burn easily). When meat is browned and tasty-looking, remove to cutting board, chop into bite-sized pieces, and place on serving platter.

Serve with rice, a side dish such as a vegetable stirfry or a soup, a variety of kimchi if you have access to such things, and the following:

B.
a head of romaine lettuce, washed and drained well and leaves separated
3-4 green onions, sliced LENGTHWISE several times with tip of knife to create thin ribbons, then cut at 2-3 inch lengths
2 t. sesame oil
1 t. soy sauce
1 t. sesame seeds (I use the black sesame seeds with salt available in Japanese markets, but white ones are fine)

For the wraps, chop the bottom ribs off the biggest leaves of romaine, and set aside tops of leaves in pretty pile to serve. Chop the ribs finely. Place in a bowl, then add scallion ribbons and the inner leaves of the romaine, chopped. Mix sesame oil, soy sauce, and sesame seeds in small bowl for dressing. Toss salad with dressing at the last minute. DO NOT ADD DRESSING UNTIL IMMEDIATELY PRIOR TO SERVING, since it will make the lettuce limp rather quickly.

To assemble wraps, place a few pieces of meat and some of the dressed salad on a lettuce leaf. For a more authentic version, add a dab of miso or Korean bean paste, which is darker and more rustic than the standard Japanese white miso but tastes similar, a slice of raw garlic, and/or a slice of jalapeno. Koreans don't generally add kimchi to their wraps, but I've seen some Americans doing that and they seemed happy, so go for it if that appeals to you.

berries and pavers and 'chokes, oh my!

I've been busy laying out the raised bed area in the garden, and doing other gardeny projects. On a whim, I bought six raspberry canes and decided to make the southeast corner of my garden a berrea (=berry area). A friend is going to give me some blueberry bushes, and I already have one blueberry stump that may or may not survive. There is one Himalayan blackberry in the neighbor's alley behind this part of my garden, which I have already taken steps to kill. For those of you who are horrified by the thought of wilfully killing blackberries, as I was before I moved to the Pacific Northwest, Himalayan blackberries are one of our most annoying weeds. They grow everywhere, and once they get started, it's really hard to eradicate them. Sure, it's wonderful to eat wild blackberries whenever you take a walk in a park, canoe down a stream, stop by the side of the highway to dump a body, etc., but you don't want these puppies in your yard. It is MIRACULOUS that my poorly tended yard, neglected for a dozen years, doesn't have blackberries, and I intend to keep it that way. So my berrea will be filled with blue and red berries, not purple. I also saw a cranberry bush at Home Depot -- I always thought cranberries, like blueberries in Michigan where I grew up -- were planted in bogs. Not so, apparently. I might just splurge and get one to see what happens.

I've also been busy working on small drainage problems by laying little pavers and rocks in muddy and unattractive areas. Mr. Reluctant and I are having some differences in opinion about this. I want stepping stones surrounded by rocks (see picture); he wants a more mathematically sound path of pavers snuggly fitted together with cement poured between the cracks (see attempt to do so in picture). This aesthetic difference, my friends, is the major issue in our marriage. Me=freeflowing natural crumbling pretty, him=build like a brick shithouse and just as ugly. What can ya do?

I also picked up some artichokes at a place I usually wouldn't recommend (for plants or anything else): Walmart. I went in looking for a cheap dark green plastic lawn table, which suddenly has become a rare commodity because all the plastic lawn furniture is suddenly beige and sage green, and I found a rather lovely bumper crop of green globe artichokes there. They are more mature than what's on sale elsewhere, and cheap, too, so I bought a couple (see first picture). Like the raspberries, they take two years to properly fruit, so we'll have some yumminess in 2008.

branching out with team overgrown

As promised, I spent the whole day gardening, as my corned beef and cabbage simmered away on the stove. Now not only is my front yard decorated with piles of branches, my back yard is, too. I need a chipper, and stat.

Two of the projects I dealt with involved overgrown and poorly tended fruit: my plum tree and my grapes. The apple tree, which is relatively young, was sort of trained to be an espalier tree, so the pruning was easy (if not totally ugly). The plum tree is large, maybe 50 feet tall, and full of shooters, crossed branches, and the results of the chop-down-random-limbs method. It took me about an hour just to get the shooters, and I couldn't even finish without a chain saw.

The grapes, pictured above before pruning, really need to be planted on a better trellis, but that's not going to happen. Some vines were forcing between the fence boards, and others were entwined in those of the neighboring plant. The neighbor I mentioned in my last two entries actually did the upkeep for the vines, so there is a chicken wire fence enclosing each plant. Not exactly the way I'd do it, but I'm grateful that SOMEONE was watching over the yard, since it wasn't the PO. The problem is that the new growth canes get caught in the fencing and grow into it. The grape vines are at least 20 years old, and the base of the plants are a bit twisted and misshapen. I'm just going to see what happens this year and expect a poor harvest.

The second problem is that some dumb@&# m*&#^rf@&*er planted a wisteria tree next to the grapes. I hate wisteria. Not only is it gaudy, I despise lavender-colored anything (except, well, lavender) and it has got to be one of the most destructive, insidious plants in the western world. Scroll down to the bottom of this page for an example of a "well-tended" wisteria. It still has designs on the house, you see. It crouches and looms, waiting for a moment's distraction, and will wrap its lavender monster chokehold around the porch or pull down the roof or push up the foundation. They do that. I'm not joking. Here's one trying to rip down the walls of a house. Here's another house under attack. And here's one sensible person who recognizes the threat (scroll down to 9/27/06).

My wisteria is not nearly as bad as the ones you see above, still, it is on the slow and relentless attack inborn in the species. Someon (I presume, the neighbor) tried to hold it up by a small wood trellis, which it snaked around and tried to crush into matchsticks. I had to extract the pieces of the trellis from the vine, then I had to try to force the thing back to being perpedicular to the ground with a makeshift support, as it was leaning at about 75 degrees. Then, the fun began, and I started severing vines and the most horrible, evil suckers in the universe, which shoot out just under the ground for dozens of feet in every direction and root, seeking new lands to destroy. I only could elminate a small percentage of the suckers because of the makeshift concrete/chicken wire fence between my yard and the neighbors' yard. The suckers are four or five layers DEEP along with wall.

So my question is why would anyone want a plant like this? It's ridiculous. I'm going to get rid of it after it blooms in the spring. I just can't spend all my time in the garden doing battle with the lavender monster.

fortification fridays - love thy neighbor gingersnaps

These are the best gingersnaps ever. What better way to say thanks, neighbor, for the lawnmower loan!

You'll notice that they have fresh ginger, powdered ginger, and crystallized ginger. They are pretty and addictive and full of gingery goodness. I highly recommend doubling the recipe. Dough can be frozen in logs.

Love Thy Neighbor Gingersnaps

(slightly modified from recipe in Cookies Unlimited by Nick Malgieri)

Kitchen Needs: working oven
Serves: Makes about 40 small cookies, if you’re lucky.

A.
2 c. flour
2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. salt
2 t. ground ginger
1 t. ground cinnamon
1/2 t. ground cloves

B.
12 T. (1.5 sticks) unsalted butter, softened (not melted)
1 cup sugar
1 large egg
1/2 cup molasses
1 T. fresh grated ginger
1/4 c. chopped preserved ginger (optional)

C.
turbinado sugar (like Sugar in the Raw brand) for rolling dough balls in before baking

Set racks in upper and lower thirds of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees. Combine ingredients in A. In another bowl, beat together butter and sugar until light and fluffy (5 min or so). Add egg and beat until smooth.

Lower beater speed, then add half of dry ingredients, then the molasses. Scrape down bowl, then add rest of dry ingredients. Use a rubber spatula to mix if it is too difficult.

Form 1- to 2-inch diameter balls of dough and roll in a small bowl containing turbinado sugar. You can use regular sugar, but the bigger grains, blonde color, and melt-resistance of turbinado sugar makes a pretty cookie. I haven't tried muscovado sugar, but I bet that would be good, too.

Place balls on cookie sheets covered with foil or parchment, leaving about 2 inches between balls.

Bake about 15 minutes, or until cookies are crackled and darker in color and firm to the touch. (N.b. my light cookie sheet doesn’t allow them to crackle, but my dark one does, so you should not gauge doneness by crackle alone.) Cookies will crisp up as they cool.

Icon courtesy of the Portland Mercury.

first lawn mowing of the season!

And boy howdy, I'm happy it's done. The lawn fertilizer and warm, wet, warm weather cycle really made the lawn explode. It is still a mess, full of half-dead moss and broad leaf weeds, plus cyclamen and grape hyacinths, only about 75% of which Mr. Reluctant mowed down. We borrowed the neighbor's professional mower, so it was a snap. Note to self: bake neighbor cookies. The only grrrr part was that after we were done, the neighbor said that he used to mow the POs lawn for the first time each year himself, since the PO let it grow knee-high. So we could have had **him** do it if we had waited a few more weeks. Haha.

I haven't done anything around the house because I've been on deadline, but tomorrow I'm taking the day off and blissfully gardening. I've got me a grape arbor to tackle, some dolomite lime to spread, and lovely crabgrass edging that I need to attack. And we need to buy a lawn mower.

the reluctant kitchen painter

Why was I the only person on my block who wasn't gardening yesterday? We had our first sunny, over-70-degree day. But I got it in my head to scrub the kitchen floors and the lower realms (think Dante) of my cupboards in preparation for painting the rest of the kitchen. It was gross. Not quite as gross as what was behind the stove, but still pretty gross. Inspired, I moved into the laundry room and unexpectedly found the hole where our mouse entered the house (complete with droppings). How amazing, how unpleasant, what you can find when you're crawling around on your hands and knees.

But instead of taking pictures of a dirty floor, I bring you a before and after shot of the floor of my kitchen nook. It's really more for me than you, because I'm feeling particularly reluctant about remodeling right now. The kitchen needs so much work and I'm only able to paint it right now, and that's demoralizing. I KNOW that the kitchen will look nice when I'm done. I'll just keep chanting that, and maybe that will get me through. Note, if you will, my new Sengware red plates, a present from Mr. Reluctant for Valentine's Day, and the delicious meal he made me a week or so ago. Salad set and vintage Vesco aluminum bowl courtesy of Goodwill.

fortification fridays - PÖRKÖLT (Hungarian paprika beef stew)

I went to Hungary last year for a conference, and even though it was in the middle of the summer and I was stuffed after a few days, I couldn't stop eating dish after dish of pörkölt with little flour dumplings called galuska. I wanted to try every version in every restaurant, cantina, bistro, cafeteria I visited, and then I wanted more. The recipe is simple: beef, onions, paprika, salt and pepper, and a bit of optional green pepper and/or tomato. Hungarian food is nothing short of a miracle; it's heavy as can be, but, with a few good ingredients, wonderful winter eating.

When I came back, carrying bags of paprika in my luggage, I embarked upon a mission to find a good Hungarian cookbook. Luckily, the best one in English came out in a new edition at the end of 2006. Part of the Konemann Culinaria cookbook series, it is called Culinaria Hungary and is available through amazon.com. My recipe is an adaptation from that cookbook.


A note on paprika: don't buy non-imported paprika. You will be using 2-3 tablespoons at a time, so you really want the good stuff. Plus, it is brighter and sweeter when used as a garnish. I have purchased even the best domestic types available, including the stuff at Penzey's, but it absolutely pales in comparison to imported fresh Hungarian paprika from Kalocsa. If you go to Hungary, skip the tourist markets (such as the one pictured here, the biggest open market in Budapest) and buy your paprika at a grocery store. Much cheaper and probably fresher, too. If you can't go to Hungary, I'll forgive you. Find a Eastern European grocery and/or deli in your area and ask them. There are at least two places in central Oregon that carry the brand pictured here called "Kalocsai", Novak's Hungarian Restaurant in Albany, and Zolotoy Petushok, a Russian deli and market in Eugene, so I am sure you can find one in your area. The types of paprika are baffling -- I bought a "sweet" one that had the word "csemege" in it, and I find the following incomprehensible descriptions online:


Delicate (Csípmentes Csemege): Ranging from light to dark red, a mild paprika with a rich flavor.
Exquisite Delicate (Csemegepaprika): Similar to Delicate, but more pungent.
Pungent Exquisite Delicate (Csípös Csemege, Pikant): A yet more pungent Delicate.

"Pungent delicate" sounds like an oxymoron to me, so I'll leave it at that and say it is just plain delicious.



So enough already. Here's the recipe.

Pörkölt - Hungarian paprika beef stew

Kitchen needs: Something to saute the onions and an oven or slow cooker
Serves: 6

I suppose this would be called "goulash" in America, but it is nothing like the thin paprika soup they call goulyas in Hungary, and nothing like the sour-cream enriched, hamburger mushroom casserole that passes as goulash. My recipe uses a bit more water than usual because I like a bit more liquid in my stews to soak into the dumplings/noodles/potatoes, and although purists wouldn't use the tomato or pepper, I don't have a problem with either. If you like caraway seed, you could add some, but that's not considered "traditional" either.

2 lbs. beef chuck or stew beef, cubed in 1-2 inch pieces
2 medium yellow onions, chopped
2-3 T. imported paprika (sweet)
1 t. imported paprika (hot), optional
one perfect garden tomato, medium, halved, or 1T. tomato paste
1 dense-fleshed green pepper, such as an anaheim or poblano, or a small bell pepper, chopped
cooking fat: lard, bacon drippings, or vegetable oil (preferences in that order)
salt and pepper

Saute onions in 1 T. of cooking fat until soft and light brown. Remove from heat, then combine with beef and paprika (no need to brown beef) to your pot or slow cooker and mix thoroughly. Mix in salt and pepper to taste, the tomato/tomato paste, and green pepper. Add a cup of water or wine if you want it saucy. Cover and cook on 300 for about 2 hours in the oven or 4-5 hours on low in a slow cooker (if the latter, you will probably want to add some wine or water or stock to increase the liquid). The beef should be fork-tender when done. This recipe improves greatly when allowed to sit for several hours or overnight. Serve with dumplings, egg noodles, pasta, or boiled potatoes.

Image of paprika package courtesy of someone's Hungary food products site.

all praise the sun gods

There's a redbreasted sapsucker (sphyrapicus ruber) living in my elm tree. I finally got a photo of it. My elm tree gives me an immense amount of pleasure; it's one of the best things about this house. I would just sit and look up into it all day if I could. Kant wrote that the sublime fills you with fear, contracts your brain, and then leaves you awash in pleasure. That's what I feel when I look up into my elm tree. That is, if I'm not watching the bird/squirrel showdown.

I've been engaged the very first stages of landscaping as I've been pruning trees over the past few days. We've had a couple of days that were about 65 degrees and sunny, and boy, did I need that. I've done everything but prune the grapes and the plum tree in back, both of which need pruning desperately. I got a small pile of wood from the birch tree, which I'm drying behind the shed, and enough long sticks to make nice stakes from the plum tree. A friend has promised to give me more roses, so I have to figure out what to do with them, and I learned that I own a bunch of dahlias that are planted between my house and my neighbor's. Yum.

I think I'm going to build raised beds over a retaining wall in the middle of the yard for my veggies, lime the heck out of the soil near the house and put in my herbs there, and build a bean frame in the back corner and hope the blueberry comes back (chopped down by the PO -- thanks). I guess I could put in squash there, too. Next year I'll do cold frames for seedlings and build a deck.

in which I become a logger

When in Rome, right? I'm currently engaged in chopping down trees. It seems that's all I'm about lately. Pretty soon, the Eugene green mafia will be picketing at my door.

I discovered that the wild plum tree that had grown up inside my quince bush was not one but several trees, as thick as my wrist and about 10 feet high. Someone had already cut out some of them and they grew back, so I'm going to have to stay vigilant and pull out the suckers that will continue to grow. I can't kill the stumps because they are too entrenched in the quince. What made the job particularly fun was the thorns that grow on quince branches. Who knew?

Because the pile of brush on my lawn wasn't large enough, I decided to chop large branches off my European white birch tree. The tree is really messy, and it branches over the driveway next to my front door has led to months of tracking in debris and bird crap on the cars. It lost its little leaves in the fall, then promptly formed thousands of catakins, which fly in the wind like confetti (you can see some in the recycling bin in the first picture). I could tolerate the debris if it were just for a few weeks, but the tree has been making a mess since October, before we moved in, and the catakin confetti doesn't want to leave the driveway, even if we sweep up mounds of it. It gets wet and sticks to the pavement like mud.

So I decided to remove some of the branches, or rather, have my people (read: Mr. Reluctant, the best husband ever) remove the branches. It's not really a good idea to prune a birch in the spring, since it drips sap and attracts borers, but I saw that some of the branches had wounds and others (like the one that crosses the middle of the two trunks in the second image), had cracks in them that weakened the limbs already. And I'm tired of finding birch confetti in my hair and dishwasher.

Now it's just a matter of getting rid of the wood. I saved some straight branches for garden use, but I'm not sure what to do with the bigger logs. I guess I could dry them and burn them, but would the moss/lichens growing on them affect us? I don't want a bunch of black smoke in my living room. Maybe I could use them as campfire wood.

peas

Well, it sure doesn't look like much, but I chopped back some of the neighbor's vegetation and planted a stand of peas ("Sandy," which features lots of pea tendrils, and "Oregon Giant," a good performer with big snow peas) next to the back fence yesterday. I figured they'd be out of the way there. The soil wasn't as bad as I feared it might be. I think it's been used as a garden before, or at least backfilled at some point. The yard is going to be so much work, though.

I also fertilized the apple and plum trees, and did some research on pruning grapes. Unsurprisingly, the grapes are planted incorrectly. I'm not quite sure what to do. They did fruit well last year, so they aren't unhealthy (yet) but they do need some attention.

fortification fridays - winter watercress salad with pears, hazelnuts and gorgonzola

First, I have to mention how much I love my husband for going across town and schlepping the table back here in the rain when I couldn't fit it into the car myself. He was tired and wet when he biked home from work, and he still did it. Then he made dinner. And did the dishes. I'm not sure where he got the phenomenal burst of energy, but I'm amazed and grateful and happy he's my husband.

But back to business.

This week's recipe is a response to my lust for spring greens. I'd almost forgotten how good winter watercress can be. They sell hydroponic packs at big grocery stores that are younger and less dirty than their bunched cousins. They are also, being younger, less flavorful. Your choice. As for the hazelnuts, I live in the hazelnut capital of the world. The Willamette Valley used to have hazelnut groves and farms and factories. There are still plenty of growers, so we can get them fresh at the farmer's market in the fall and stick 'em in the freezer for a few months. If you aren't so lucky, substitute walnuts, toasted for a few minutes in the toaster oven.

Winter Watercress Salad with Pears, Hazelnuts, and Gorgonzola

Kitchen needs: Just a big bowl
Serves: 2 for dinner, 4 as side salads

1 large bunch of watercress, enough to fill your big bowl
1 cup roasted, unsalted hazelnuts, chopped
2 very ripe D'anjou or bosc pears
1/2 cup crumbled gorgonzola or other good-quality blue-veined cheese

Chop the leaves off the watercress after washing well in several changes of water, and chop up stems (if tender) in 1-2 inch lengths. Toss in the rest of the ingredients. You should have about half greens/half other ingredients. You won't need salt or dressing, since the cheese "melts" in to the salad when it comes in contact with the ripe pears. Add some black pepper or olive oil if you're feeling slick. Enjoy the green.

I'd like to table that motion

And who was it who scored a vintage formica and chrome table in exactly the colors she wanted to match with her much-maligned library chairs? And who got two leaves for the table? And who got the whole shebang for 25 bucks?


Yes, it was me, yes it was! Can you believe it?!?!?

The legs need better screws and feet, the chrome is dinged in places, and there's a bit of rust here and there, but wow. Go Craig's List. What a good end to a wet, cold, frustrating, crummy day.

favas

More snow yesterday. I shouldn't complain, it not sticking and all, but it's COLD. I've been on deadline and the only thing I've done housewise is broadcasting fava beans for green mulch in the garden. Fava beans, if they had an advertising campaign, would bill themselves as "Europe's First Bean." Look, here is an illustration from Italy in the 14th century to prove it. I shamelessly stole it from an absolutely wonderful medieval food blog, where you can read the checkered history of fava beans, how Pythagoras felt about them, plus try out a few old recipes.

As with all ancient foodstuff, the fava bean is associated with otherworldly legends. I missed the traditional day in Italy to plant them, November 2 (All Souls' Day), which gave the title "beans of the dead" to the fava, and I'm a bit too early to plant them on the other traditional day in Europe (probably the northern parts thereof since it's so late): Good Friday. I failed to plant them in the night, another superstition for good luck. Some cultures cast fava beans for divination (favomancy), and others plant them as magic beanstalks to reach up to a giant's castle.

Favas were seen as both good and evil. On the dark side of the force, they were seen as the vessels that held the souls of the dead. Other mortal danger associated with fava beans includes favism, a serious chemical intolerance of something in the bean that creates anemia in some people of Middle Eastern and Mediterranean descent, and, of course, the reputation they have as an accompaniment to human liver, with a nice Chianti. The pods are said to be toxic.

Regardless of the reputation, the Italians eat young favas with watercress and pecorino. I'm seriously jonesing for some fresh spring greens these days, so you can bet I will, too. Favas have pretty little white and black flowers, and the young beans are tender and just as green as can be. I will be planting "Sandy" peas as soon as it stops snowing/raining/freezing, a variety that features masses of pea tendrils, which I will saute in just a tiny touch of sesame oil and salt and serve on a big platter as an accompaniment to fish or maybe fresh tofu with ginger and scallions. I may throw in a few favas for texture. No liver. Likely no Chianti, either.


When my favas get to be about 3-4 feet high, I'm going to chop some of them down and mulch them into my garden as a nitrogen fixer. Now is the time to start amending your soil, if you haven't already. Home Depot has clearance sales on right now with fertilizers for roses, fruit trees, and acid-loving plants, if you're into chemicals, and I've been seeing the big garden center trucks puttering around my neighborhood, dropping off piles of rich black compost here and there. Spring can't be so very far away, can it?

Images courtesy of thorngrove's medieval food blog, life in Italy's recipe for fava bean salad and a green mulch project in process at Mastergardener.org.