que pasa at the reluctant casa

It's harvest time, and I'm in the process of canning dilly beans and green tomatoes, drying herbs, and slow-roasting cherry and plum tomatoes for freezing. We had a rough season in the Willamette Valley, I'll confess. Cold nights that really never broke 60 degrees for more than a few days, even in 90-degree heat spells, a late last frost, and a relatively cool summer. Made for some really unfriendly growing conditions. Still, I got a decent crop of tomatoes, some great paprika peppers (pictured, my new drying method) and an oddly happy bumper crop of tarragon!

Mr. Reluctant pulled in the watering hoses yesterday. If that's not the sign of the end of the season, I don't know what is.

We've done very little on our growing list of remodeling projects lately. I've been struggling to finish an article that took much longer to write than I thought it would, and Mr. R. has been engaged in finishing his own article and his book, and traveling. Plus, we've been entertaining quite a bit, and experimenting with the BBQ. Priorities, yanno.

I did manage to cut down the hateful wisteria next to our grapevines and buy replacement handles for the laundry room cabinets, recaulk the kitchen window, and buy more curtains and shades at Ikea. Mr. R. got a few quotes for the roof replacement and ordered replacement panels for the storm windows, and I bought exterior paint. Not so much to report, no?

Part of the delay is that I'll be going to southern California for about three months starting next week. I'm not sure how much I'll be blogging from there, since I won't have a home to remodel, even reluctantly, and I won't be cooking much for myself. I think that I'll probably be an occasional blogger for a while.

In other news, the turquoise WWII cottage down the street, it turns out, sold for $300K. Woo-hoo property values! They immediately put in a white picket fence around the front. I had my doubts, but it turned out rather cute.

Hope you're all having a great fall!

fortification fridays -- my gazpacho

Got too many tomatoes, cukes, and peppers? Then I've got a recipe for you!

This is an adaptation of an authentic gazpacho recipe from someone’s grandmother chef in Córdoba, Spain. I, of course,
messed it up and made it simpler. The main difference is that I really like thick, smooth, pureed gazpacho, but I also like chunks of veggies. So I put the soup in the food processor and then garnish each serving with a mini-salad. This soup is hearty, even though it is cold, so serve in small portions if you are using it as an appetizer. It’s better the next day. The quality of the vegetables is paramount in this recipe.

My Gazpacho

Serves: 6
Kitchen Needs: Just a food processor or blender

2 pounds large garden tomatoes (this recipe won’t work with winter tomatoes)
2 large red bell peppers
6 pickling cucumbers, unpeeled, or 2 peeled garden slicer cucumbers
2 large garlic cloves
2 tablespoons Sherry vinegar, or substitute 1 T. good red wine vinegar and 1 T. good balsamic vinegar
1/3 cup fruity extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 baguette, day-old, cubed
1/2 teaspoon minced fresh tarragon leaves
2 teaspoons salt, or to taste
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, or to taste

Place bread cubes in small bowl and cover with water. Allow to soak for at least 10 minutes.

Roast tomatoes and bell peppers. You can do this in a few ways. I generally just use metal tongs and my gas stove burner turned up on high. You can place the peppers directly on top of the burner grate, and turn them every minute or so, until they are charred on all sides. You MUST watch them carefully. The tomatoes are more delicate, but you can do the same process; I usually roast them just until they are charred in places but still raw inside.

Another way to roast the vegetables is to slick a cookie sheet with oil, then roast them at 425 degrees, turning frequently, until they are charred. It’s best to refer to a cookbook for this method if you are unsure of the process.

Let peppers rest and steam in a brown paper bag or covered dish while you chop the tomatoes and cucumbers. I don’t bother slipping the skin off the tomatoes, but you can if you like. Add tomatoes and juice to large bowl.

Chop cucumbers finely; add to HALF to bowl with salt and pepper, HALF to small bowl to reserve as garnish. Finely chop garlic and stir into tomato mixture with cucumbers, tarragon, vinegar, and oil.

Carefully slit the peppers and pour the juice into the bowl. Peel the charred skin off the peppers and remove the seeds, stem and ribs. You may rinse off the pepper, but it will remove some of the smoky remnants. Chop peppers finely and add HALF to bowl, HALF to another small bowl to reserve as garnish.

Drain bread, without squeezing out excess liquid. Mix into bowl with rest of ingredients.

Let mixture sit for a couple of hours out on the counter, or, if you’d prefer, four to eight hours in the refrigerator, to let flavors meld. Leave a couple of hours before serving, because you will need to puree the soup and chill it again.

In a food processor purée mixture, in batches if necessary, and return to bowl. Chill gazpacho, covered, for an hour or so.

Serve with reserved cucumber and roasted red pepper. You may also garnish with chopped bell pepper, a tiny bit of chopped jalapeno, chopped hard boiled eggs, avocado, and freshly made croutons, if you are adept at such things. Maybe not authentic, but delicious.

fortification fridays -- take my zucchini, please bread

It's that time again. Everyone in the continental U.S. is overrun with zucchini. Everyone, that is, except me. My exotic varieties didn't turn out at all! So I was one of the few people around actually LOOKING to take your zucchini, please.*

Last year, with my bounty crop, I thought I'd perfect zucchini bread. A dozen or so loaves later, this recipe comes pretty close. I've been through internet recipes, my great-aunt's recipes, and even a granola zucchini cookbook written by Oregon mountaineer commune-ists. Based on the famous Sunset magazine zucchini bread recipe of '76, then tortured a bit and doctored for less sugar and oil and the removal of such blasphemies as canned pineapple, le voilà. This makes a moist, non-oily, hearty bread.

Take My Zucchini, Please Bread

A.
4 eggs
2 c. sugar (add up to 1/2 cup more if you want it sweeter -- the texture will change a bit)
2/3 c. veg. oil
2 t. vanilla

B.
3 c. (packed) shredded zucchini with peel. If you have a monster zucchini, core it to remove the seeds.
1/3 c. milk
2 t. lemon zest

C.
1 1/2 c. white flour
1 c. whole wheat flour
1 c. steel cut oats
2 t. baking soda
1/2 t. baking powder
1 t. salt
1 t. nutmeg
2 t. cinnamon
1/2 t. ground ginger
1/2 t. ground allspice

D.
1 c. chopped walnuts
OPTIONAL: 3/4 c. raisins and/or 1 grated carrot

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Beat ingredients in A together until well-combined. Mix in B. In a separate bowl, combine ingredients in C. Just before pouring batter into greased, floured** loaf pans (2 large or 3 medium -- batter should fill pan a bit over half full), add D. To be fancy, add some oats, crystal/turbinado sugar, or a few nuts on top. Bake for 50-60 minutes, or until wooden stick comes out clean. You will also see loaf slightly separating from the pan around edges. Invert pan and cool on rack. Good hot, cold, or in between. Good with butter. Freezes well.

*For a large garden zucchini, you will be able to make six or more loaves, so plan accordingly. You *can* refrigerate shredded zucchini overnight and even freeze it, but I found the texture of the bread really suffered with frozen, thawed zucchini shreds. It's much better to bake the bread, then freeze the loaf.

**I sometimes use the Pam oil/flour spray. It really doesn't work well; the bread rises unevenly and not so high as with the traditional method. But when you're baking a dozen loaves in the heat of the summer, reach for the Pam. I forgive you.

kitchen painting done!

And it only took me, what, nine months? The whole kitchen had to be scrubbed down several times and entirely primed. Thank god for Kilz. I had to scrape yet another coat of scum off the ceiling and do more patching and smoothing and cursing for three days this week. Then, I moved out the refrigerator and had to deal with the crap job of mudding the contractor did, scrape off some PO goo on a cabinet that I had missed earlier, and wipe down the oil slick that is still present on the walls near the stove. The spaghetti/soy soyce explosion is long gone, but the oil remains. Sigh.


But it's done. Done, I tell you. The second picture is the 'before' shot, complete with apple border. It doesn't look nearly as bad as it was. The light is too good, like the high school pictures of the ugly girls that were fuzzed over for a romantic feel, they insisted, but it was just really for the pitted skin and mousy hair. You're just going to have to believe me.

Now we just need our chimney hood, a new window over the sink, and a new dishwasher and refrigerator. Donations are being accepted.

fortification fridays -- swings both ways potato carrot salad

Some people are color blind. I am potato salad blind. I don't care for mayonnaise, I'll confess, and I'm not a big fan of boiled potatoes (or any mushy, bland food). My husband couldn't be different, so he is my guide to whether a potato salad is good. I've been trying for years to make a decent potato salad. My favorites are the vinegar-based ones -- I love the German-style potato salad with hot, waxy potatoes in a warm, sweet and sour vinegar-based dressing studded with pieces of bacon -- but I keep trying to make a "normal" American-style cold potato salad that we both like.

The other day, I was faced with a sudden need for a potluck dish, and my larder held only potatoes and a bunch of beautifully fresh, small, sweet, reddish carrots from the farmer's market. I thought about making a classic French carottes rapées salad, grated carrots with a vinegar and oil dressing, but I was afraid it would be too small an offering for the crowd. After finding this delicious, unorthodox recipe for carottes rapées from the stellar food blog Chocolate and Zucchini, I realized I could add potatoes to a grated carrot salad, and furthermore, I could create a potato salad that would be flexible with regards to the mayo. It could hold its own as an acid-dressing (in this case, lemon) salad, and it could be sweetened and thickened up with mayonnaise, as well. You could even make two versions at once, one with and one without mayo! The grated carrots make this salad a pretty color, and they even add some nutrition value, as they replace some of the potatoes. The best thing? Mr. Reluctant gave this his potato salad stamp of approval. It was a big hit at the potluck, too.

Swings Both Ways Potato Carrot Salad

Serves: 8-10 as a side dish
Kitchen Needs: Range or one burner to boil water

4 large red-skinned potatoes
6 medium-sized fresh carrots (the best quality you can find, preferably homegrown, farmer's market, and/or organic)
1 lemon
a few green onions
big handful of parsley, chopped
1/4 medium red onion, thinly sliced and chopped
1 red pepper, chopped
1 T dijon mustard
up to 1/2 cup mayonnaise
salt and pepper

Peel potatoes and place immediately in pot of cold, salted water. Bring to a boil and cook until pierced easily with a knife. When cooked through, remove and cube into 2-inch sized chunks, then add to the following.

While potatoes are cooking, peel and grate carrots (ok to use food processor attachment). Add juice of one lemon (can add zest, too, if you're feeling inspired), chopped green onions and parsley, chopped onion, red pepper, and mustard. Season with salt and pepper. You may adjust the tanginess by adding more lemon or white wine vinegar, if necessary. Add some or all of the mayonnaise. Chill for at least an hour. This salad improves after several hours.

Variation: for a Middle Eastern spicy version, add some harissa, ajvar, and/or hot sauce.

storm windows worth saving?

Mr. Reluctant requests advice about storm windows:

Although the mechanical mechanisms
have failed/been removed/broken in
all my wooden double hung windows --
alas, *not* ropes and pulleys, but
some other one I cannot figure out --
the windows are in fair shape. The
frames and sills seem fine, the sashes
are a bit beat up. But because the
mechanicals are failed, they don't
stay up without support. That is the
main problem. I think restoring
them would take too much time, and
probably I wouldn't even be able to
find suitable parts.

I like wooden double hung windows, and I can't
for the life of me imagine replacing them
with vinyl. Theses windows have lasted
for 60 years, and could last still many more
years -- how long will vinyl windows
last -- maybe 10? At the most 20?
It just doesn't make sense. Plus they look
hideous and are environmentally
unfriendly.

One option: replace with Marvin tilt-pac
sash replacements. Probably costly, but
could put on the list of long term projects.

In the short term: what to do about the
(double track) storm windows. Having the storms,
provided they weren't missing panels and other
essentials, doubles the energy efficiency of
the windows, and also protects the sills from
water. But the ones we have were only of modest
quality, and are now quite broken down. I
have looked high and low for replacement
parts for them (e.g. the tracks) but cannot
locate any. I am having panels made for
the ones that are missing entire
panels! But perhaps these storms in the
shape they are currently in are doing more
harm than good: they aren't air-tight, and
so moisture gets in and is trapped, causing
mildew, etc.

My questions:

(1) Does anybody know where double/triple
track storm windows are sold in the
Willamette Valley? I have gone to several
places and they basically just try to sell
me new vinyl windows.

(2) Is it worth it to buy new storms?

--Mr. R

roof color

Why in the world would you choose this color for a roof? It relegates a house to an eternity of browns. I keep trying to convince myself it is terra cotta colored, but in the sunshine, it's as brown as dirt. It just KILLS me that we have to spend money to keep it this color, since we're only due to replace the roof over the small addition on the side of the cottage. And that sets off feelings of hatred toward the POs, who didn't replace the small addition when they redid the other parts of the roof, those cheap bastards.

I'm planning to paint the cottage a dijon mustard color. Will it look awful with the roof?