wherever i go, my couch will follow

I'm pretty sure I should call in sick today. You know, to myself. I do have a sore throat. And for days, no matter how much I sleep I'm still tired. Or I think I'm tired. It's possible I'm confusing tiredness and laziness.

Should we buy a house? I walked by this one yesterday while out with C. Arthur Miller. The yard was full of what I think a realtor would call "mature plantings."

I read that yesterday's hard frost may have seriously damaged not only this summer's strawberry and blueberry crops, but next fall's apples, as well. This changes everything, obviously.

The yachtsman won't live in a red state, which rules out the South. He also won't live on the West Coast because he doesn't want to be "three hours behind." This rules out Portland, Oregon, where I've never been, but an online personality-test-type thing I took awhile ago determined I should live there.

The lure of the couch is very strong right now. The couch, a pot of tea, last night's episode of Lost.

On Saturday we went to the first farmers market of the summer. It was freezing cold and raining, and the next day it snowed. There were basically three things for sale: greens, asparagus, and radishes. Also, baked goods and pottery.

Looking at these charts of vegetables and fruits that are in season and being sold at the beautiful farmers market at the Ferry building in San Francisco is not a good idea. And it's not fair, either. It's like comparing apples to oranges. Or, in this case, radishes to cherries.

If we lived in California I'd be eating cherries right now. Actually, if we lived in California I'd still be in bed. Fer shur. However, if we lived in California, Arnold Schwarzenegger would be my governor, which is unacceptable. And if we lived in San Francisco, specifically, I would be forced by law to compost.

So for now, radishes.

As you may recall, last spring I was obsessed with a little shizzle I like to call radish toast, so when I saw this recipe for Seared Radish Crostini, I had to give it a try. Crostini is just a fancy word for toast, after all. And this is basically a fancier, fattier, deliciouser version of last year's radish toast.


The key is the bagna cauda. Did I impress you with that term? In my mind I call it crack sauce: melted butter, olive oil, lots of garlic, anchovies, parsley. So. Good. Spread the bagna cauda on crostini and top with seared radishes, and you have a little shizzle I like to call fancy radish toast with crack sauce.

Fancy Radish Toast With Crack Sauce
from the New York Times

1 bunch radishes
9 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
½ teaspoon kosher salt
¼ teaspoon pepper
4 tablespoons butter
8 anchovy fillets, finely chopped [If you don't like anchovies you could leave them out, but how about trying it first with just one or two?]
4 large garlic cloves, finely chopped
Pinch red pepper flakes
8 thin slices crusty bread, toasted
4 teaspoons chopped parsley

1. Remove leaves and stems from radishes; trim the tails. Cut larger radishes lengthwise into sixths and smaller radishes lengthwise into quarters.

2. Place a large skillet over medium-high heat until very hot. Add 1 tablespoon oil, radishes in a single layer (do not crowd), and salt and pepper. Cook radishes, without moving them, until they are lightly colored on undersides, about 3 minutes. Shake pan and continue cooking until tender, about 3 more minutes.

3. In a small skillet over medium heat, melt butter. Stir in anchovies, garlic, red pepper, and remaining oil. [I wasn’t paying attention and also stirred in the parsley, which I think I’ll do next time, too.] Reduce heat and simmer about 4 minutes.

4. Brush each slice of toast with sauce and top with several radish wedges. Spoon additional sauce on top, sprinkle with parsley and serve. [I made one up for the photo, but my stepmom had the idea to serve these “deconstructed”—the three separate parts (toasted bread, bagna cauda, radishes) on a platter so everyone could make their own.]

buying high, selling low

Things have been hectic this week here at GFD. There was the snow, obviously, which kept me busy weeping and cursing god. And I've been diligently working to re-create the Dark & Stormy I had at the Bluebird on Saturday, which has also been time consuming. I went to a cooking class on Tuesday night, where I like to think I learned to make Chinese dumplings. Plus I've been swamped with proofreading. I do have a couple of spring-vegetable soup recipes I'm excited to share with you, perhaps the last soups of the season. But tonight I recommend a Dark & Stormy.

It Was a Dark & Stormy Night
Ice
Kraken rum


Ginger beer
Lime
Candied ginger

Place ice cubes in a tall glass. Pour some Kraken rum over ice, then add plenty of fresh lime juice* (I use the juice of one lime) and ginger beer. Garnish with a slice of lime and candied ginger. Or, garnish with a slice of lime and eat handfuls of candied ginger while you weep, sip your drink, and curse god.

*Thanks to Mojie & EBids for the research & tip!

as if millions of tulips suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced

It's still snowing, people.


Mojie just sent me this photo from her front yard. I will be hibernating with my éclairs until Saturday, when it's supposed to be, I kid you not, 78 degrees.

so far this morning

This would be snow.


These would be a gift I just received from a neighbor.


I will not be having gruel for breakfast.

getting there

Soon I will describe for you every last morsel I ate in Portland, Maine, over the weekend. But first, a few photos of our drive there.


The snow was pretty in a it's-mid-April-where-the-hell-is-spring kind of way.


And Portland was delicious. More on that later.

warm soup, winter's night

Today was the first real storm of the season, pinpricks of dry snow whispering through the trees this morning, big, wet flakes at midday, rain this evening. It was overcast and cold, but beautiful, too, the landscape a rich palette of grays and blues and white. I went for two long walks, and after my second came home and made lentil soup.

I've been thinking about this lentil soup for a long time. Years, in fact: A friend of the yachtsman's mom's brought it to the house the night the yachtsman's stepdad died. As I remembered it, the soup was deeply flavorful and very comforting, but I've never been sure if it was really that good or if its magic was in the need it fulfilled, the way a mediocre meal can taste amazing when you're famished—perhaps I had eaten it on a night when anything warm and sustaining would have tasted good to me.

But I can tell you now that the soup lives up to my memory of it. The secret ingredient, I think, is the red wine, and I used Rapunzel bouillon, which I swear makes the best non-homemade vegetable broth out there. The recipe calls for a garnish of grated cheddar cheese and can be made with beef or chicken broth, but the version I made tonight was vegan, yet had the rich tenor of something that contained meat.

I'll post a photo tomorrow after I've reheated a bowl for lunch. For now, here's the recipe for Winter Comfort Lentil Soup.

Leftovers for lunch.

Winter Comfort Lentil Soup

2 tablespoons evoo
2 medium onions, chopped
3 carrots, coarsely grated
¾ teaspoon marjoram, crumbled
¾ teaspoon thyme leaves, crumbled
1 28-ounce can peeled, whole tomatoes with juice, coarsely chopped
7 cups broth
1½ cups dried lentils
s&p to taste [the salt will not be necessary if you use Rapunzel bouillon]
6 ounces dry red wine
1/3 cup chopped fresh parsley

1. If you're using bouillon to make a broth, do so to make a quantity of 7 cups. I used 4 Rapunzel bouillon cubes with 7 cups of water, 1 cup less than would have been called for had I followed the directions on the box.

2. Heat the oil in a Dutch oven or other soup pot, and sauté the onions, carrots, marjoram, and thyme, stirring occasionally, for about 5 minutes.

3. Add the tomatoes, broth, and lentils. Bring the soup to a boil, reduce the heat, cover the pan, and simmer the soup for about 1 hour or until the lentils are tender. Be careful not too overcook the lentils, or they'll turn to mush.

4. Add the salt, if you're using it, pepper, wine, and parsley, and simmer for a few more minutes.

I went full gruel tonight, and served the soup with a loaf of All Whole Wheat bread from August First, the new-ish bakery a couple blocks from my house; my Greek stepmother whipped up my new favorite salad of spicy greens with a lemony vinaigrette.

at last, summer

It's August, and summer has finally rolled her lazy ass into Vermont for a brief stay before it starts to snow again.


Which means I'm not doing much cooking.

Heirloom tomatoes with balsamic vinegar, basil, and Doe's Leap feta.

Mostly I'm eating creemees (to make up for all the creemees I didn't eat in June and July, when it rained every single day and the temperature rarely got above 70 degrees) and farmers booty in simple forms.

Baby artichokes, steamed and sauteed with a little olive oil, garlic, and white wine.

So I've got nothing much to offer you in the form of recipes or tales of eating. I suggest you console yourself with a creemee.

I know I'm going to.

scary, sunny

I found this fascinating/scary, especially the US-Canadian border image:


View Larger Map

According to the U.S. Food Policy blog, "this border was drawn along a line of latitude, not according to the landscape, so there is no fundamental natural difference in the land on the two sides of the border." And yet they're growing shit in Canada, and we are not.

This doesn't appear to be a problem where I live:


View Larger Map

But before you get excited and decide to move here, keep in mind that we've had six sunny days in the past eight months. Today, praise jah, happens to be one of them.

Via.

hello, losers!

I'm writing to you from Denver, where for reasons I don't entirely understand I'll be spending another night before heading to Trinidad tomorrow.

In an example of pathetic fallacy, it is both snowing and thundering outside: The weather, too, is at grump factor 6! But the weather does not have five episodes of Gossip Girl on its iPod to lie in bed and watch.

[A note to the Mister Who Will Not Watch Gossip Girl: This is an actual line from an episode I watched on the plane yesterday, spoken by one character trying to comfort another after a family secret has been revealed: "We could both use a distraction. I say we play Boggle or watch a trashy movie. I rented Showgirls!" Seriously, Mister, if you have not watched the first season by the time I return home (which may be tomorrow if the freakout/meltdown looming on my horizon actually occurs), I might have to stop being your friend. Unless I go through with my plan to kidnap and keep you as my slave baker, in which case we will be master/servant (which is sort of like being friends) for life.]

it's snowing now, too

As compensation for the fact that it was snowing last night (tiny, sparkly flecks more than flakes, but snow nonetheless), Chris took me to the noodle shop, where we ate soup from huge bowls using veritable ladles.


You know a restaurant is good when I will return there after having been served a bowl of soup in which floated scores of flies (teeny, tiny flies, but flies nonetheless).