On Eating Close to Home

If I'm making pesto, it must be October. Or is it the other way around?

Pesto originates from Genoa, Italy where even today many families still prepare their own using their famous small-leafed basil and a large marble mortar and wooden pestle (hence the name). If you haven't tried making pesto the old-fashioned way at least once, do. The grinding action of the pestle gives the pesto a smoother texture while bringing out all the flavor of the various ingredients. For those looking to make larger quantities, a food processor works just fine. Keep in mind that ground basil oxidizes quickly turning a slightly brownish color so work efficiently and store your finished product with a protective layer of olive oil. A small quantity of parsley can be added to basil before grinding or processing, if a greener color is desired. Pesto freezes very well, so be sure to fill up an ice-cube tray for use in winter pasta dishes or soups.

Ingredients:
-2 cups tightly packed fresh basil leaves
-1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil
-3 tablespoons pine nuts (walnuts may also be used)
-2 garlic cloves, peeled
-pinch of salt
-1/2 cup freshly grated parmigiano-reggiano
-2 tablespoons freshly grated Romano cheese
-3 tablespoons butter at room temperature

Method:
1. If your basil leaves are noticeably dirty, wash them in cold water and pat dry. Otherwise, simple rub off any surface dirt or dust.
2. Put basil, olive oil, pine nuts, garlic, and an ample pinch of salt in the food processor and process until creamy.
3. Transfer to a bowl and stir in the grated cheeses. Then mix in the softened butter. Serve on pasta or vegetables.

Recipe adapted from "The Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking" by Marcella Hazan, Knopf, 1992

Posted by at 10:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I may have spoken too soon and it wouldn't be the first time.

Remember those innocent-looking white spores? Well, they're back and interferring with my summer menus.

I've seen spoken with gardening neighbor who tells me that powdery mildew, just like that first case of teenage heartbreak, is not something that you can ever recover from fully. You can however keep it in check as you try to squeeze out a harvest.

Now, I'm moving the second of two remedies, i.e. spraying my plants with a diluted milk solution. It's not killing the mildew but it seems to be keeping it at bay.

Posted by at 4:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Powdery mildew. It has such a soft, unthreatening sound compared to some of the other "bad guys" of the plant world: anthracnose, blight, nematodes, etc.

While it's appearance may be soft, its effect is anything but. I was out of my garden for a few days and returned to find my squash plants covered with the powdery fungus. Part of the problem was of my own creation for trying to pack 5 plants into a space that could only comfortably hold 3. So, there wasn't good air flow, one of the conditions that powdery mildew (like any mildew) needs in order to thrive.

After some sad moments imaging all the squash I wasn't going to eat this summer and fall, I dove into my books to discover that a natural cure for powdery mildew was as close as my kitchen cabinet. I mixed a magical potion consisting of chamomile tea, baking soda, and a few drips of vegetable oil and went outside to test it out. Before spraying, I removed all the diseased parts of the plants.

It's now three days later and I haven't seen any sign of the disease and the plants are showing great vigor. Is it too early to start dreaming of baked squash with butter and maple syrup? I don't think so.

Posted by at 8:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Well, not that easy. You first have to know where to go and what to do when you get there.

My family and I went in search of Maine's prized soft-shell clams this weekend and guess what: their shells are soft. That is the first thing that novice clammers learn or, in our case, relearn as they try to coax these delicate, delicious creatures out of the deep sand and into the stockpot.

As for the method, I ultimately came around to my wife's hand-dug method after giving up on my garden fork (strange, it had worked so well for me earlier that day with our new potatoes).

As with harvesting potatoes, there's an unmistakable charge one gets in unearthing a large clam from muck. There's something very satisfying about the thought that a person can feed him or herself using just his or her bare hands.

Posted by at 9:50 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Oops, I did it again. Despite my good intentions to be reasonable this year about how much summer squash one small family can eat, I've gone and planted enough to feed a small country.

Experts in kitchen garden psychology would certainly come up with some interesting theories why I do this each year:

Carl Jung: "Summer squash known and loved the world over as "courgettes", "zucchini", and "marrows" are in fact part of the collective culinary unconscious. This innate universal love directs us to plant them in abundance."

BF Skinner: "If gardeners grow too much summer squash, it's because they are seeking positive reinforcement for their efforts, perhaps to make up for disappointments in other parts of their gardening life."

Sigmund Freud: "The squash, of course, isn't really a squash..."

Well, you can see where this is headed which means we don't have to go there and won't. Whatever the deep psychological reasons, a glut of squash is one of those good problems to have in life. It reminds us of the easy edible bounty that nature offers to those who conjure her powers.

For those of us who love to cook, the deluge of summer squash is a welcome challenge, testing our culinary creativity like no other vegetable can. Fortunately, there are countless ways to prepare these summer beauties. I'm a "simpler's better" kind of guy which means that my default recipe is usually not a recipe at all: one small squash cut into thin slices and sauteed either in butter or olive oil with whatever herbs are available (parsley, thyme, dill, etc.) and a sprinkle of salt.

Plus, when your squash production really spins out of control, there's always the time-honored tradition of unloading your surplus onto your neighbors. Heck, you might even try to cut a deal with one of them like "I provide you with squash, you mow my lawn, ok?."

And, if all else fails, you can always try contacting Andorra or Liechtenstein. Who knows, they may be looking for a new supplier.

Posted by at 9:25 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)