fortification fridays - naturally dyed easter eggs

You're probably saying, "I did my Easter eggs WEEKS ago!" If that happened in my family, all the eggs would be gobbled up by Easter.

For those of us who don't have kids, the appeal of the Paas egg-dying kits is not particularly strong. The garish colors and little decals just don't really scream FUN! like they used to.

Naturally dyed eggs, though, are pretty and not toxic-looking. There are many websites that provide instructions and natural dye recipes. I found mine in The New York Times a few years ago, and reproduce my adaptions here. The pictures on this post are not mine, but come from several sources (see bottom of post for attributions and links). I recommend visiting the sites for more information if you like a particular egg color or pattern.

Naturally Dyed Easter Eggs

Serves: Anyone who likes hard-boiled eggs
Kitchen Needs: A stove or hotplate, and an old pot

Place a dozen eggs in a large pot, cover with water and 2 tablespoons white vinegar. Bring eggs to a boil, then add coloring agent listed below. You may also cook the eggs in the dye. Leave in dye over night for deep colors. Another suggestion is to dip eggs in vinegar immediately prior to putting in dye. This supposedly makes the colors "take" more readily.



Pink: add 1 lb. chopped beets, simmer for 30 min.
Blue: add 1/2 head of red cabbage or 2 cups frozen and mushed blueberries, simmer for 30 min.
Yellow: add 3 T. tumeric, simmer 15-30 min.
Green: Simmer as for yellow, then soak in cabbage solution for 30 minutes. Spinach leaves (or collards??) are another option.
Lavender: Simmer in beet solution, then cool in cabbage.
Mahogany: Simmer in yellow onion skins, let sit overnight.
Dual tones: Dye egg a pale color, let cool and dry, then dip in another color.
Texture: Dust with sea salt when wet. Wrap onion skins around eggs for mottled effect. Polish eggs when dry with a bit of vegetable oil for shine.


Images are courtesy of the following sites, all of which feature great recipes and techniques for naturally dying eggs: eggs from the American Egg Board, lighter colors from eco-friendly Mother Earth, a fiber artist's eggs in a bed of dyed wool, a Watsonville, CA, farmer's beautiful eggs, and a craftsperson who gets questions every year about her gorgeous eggs.

the bricks and mortar of passover

I should have mentioned in my "fortification fridays" food post on Friday that Passover is all about being enslaved to building. I think we all understand that. The story goes that the Israelites were forced to labor for the Egyptians on their buildings by making bricks of mud and straw, and mortar of apples, walnuts, and honey. OK, who knows what the mortar was really made of, but one of the symbolic foods of Passover is charoset, a mix of the above-listed sweet things ground into a lumpy paste, that signifies the mortar used by the Israelites.

I've really been burdened by the thought of returning to my renovation labor lately. I've had some deadlines and a seriously severe disinterest in doing anything inside my house. I want a cloud of locusts or boils to come and the sea to part so I can run away from my bricks and mortar. But enslaved we are, and toil we must, with only the hope that it will one day be over and our houses will be a perfect as the garden of Paradise. Next year...

The image is my Passover seder plate. I only get to look at it once a year, so I'm making the most of it. Each of the little bowls holds a different symbolic food: charoset, parsley, romaine lettuce, an egg, horseradish, and a shank bone. The orange? It's a recent revisionist custom to add an orange to the seder plate to symbolize the people who have been excluded from certain Judaic practices and communities (such as gays/lesbians or female rabbis). To those I add the non-reluctant remodelers, the DIYers who enjoy the toil of renovation and restoration, and never complain about grit in their teeth and bricks falling on their toes. To you I raise a glass of achingly sweet kosher wine!

soiled again

I am giddy with dirt. My wonderful neighbor came over yesterday and tilled the entire back of my yard for a garden (dayenu!*). He took down the nasty chicken wire fence (dayenu!) and dug out three posts (dayenu!). The entire space is 35 x 15. That's alotta garden. I'm amazed by how rich the soil is. There doesn't seem to be a huge drainage problem (it's about two feet above the rest of the yard), and there aren't many rocks (dai-dai-enu, dayenu, dayenu!). I'll put down some more dolomite lime, but I think the situation will be just fine for growing, as long as the elm doesn't shade it too much.


This is a shot of the Trevor Chang Memorial Shed and the tilled patch. And last is a "before" shot of the back area, just before we moved in, after a summer without watering the lawn. I know, it doesn't look much different. Dirt doesn't photograph well. But to me it's a world of difference.

*"Dayenu" is a Passover song about the Exodus, thanking God for all the things he did for the Israelites. "Dayenu" means "it would have been enough!" and the word is repeated after every verse. One site says that it's like the Hebrew version of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall." Not exactly, but I like the comparison. What I love about the song/concept is that it can apply to all kinds of situations. Like gardening. And war. And political injustice. And religion. And cleaning your house.

A translation of some of the traditional lyrics of "Daiyenu"
A Jewish atheist's "Daiyenu"
A Gay/Lesbian "Daiyenu"
A domestic "Daiyenu"

Happy Passover, everyone, and may you have enough, and then some.

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":