3 Practical New Years Resolutions I'm Finding Easy to Keep (to varying degrees)

Inspired a little by Martha, a little by Bon Appetit magazine, and a lot by Joel Salatin, my favorite farmer who preaches long and strong about capturing fertility instead of throwing it out (I speak here of kitchen scraps, that can be chicken food, or compost, or or or): I have begun

RESOLUTION 1: A FREEZER BAG.

Rachel Ray can have her garbage bowl. I for one am throwing all my veggie scraps from meals I make at home into a plastic bag with a sliding zipper thing (it closes securely) and stashing them in the freezer. Onion tops, bits of garlic, carrot stems, herbs from a package unused and drying out. When I have a bag full, I put them in a stock pot with water, throw in a few extra whatevers I've got threatening to go bad in the crisper, and I boil. In a few hours: 2 quarts free veggie stock. I am doing the same with chicken bits -- wings, trimmings whatever. Say hello to my little friend: 

The beautiful thing about those zipper enclosures is you can keep adding to the bag. And then reuse the bag for your next stock, yay. You can do this while you are at work if you have a slow cooker.

No waste, no guilt for not composting (I don't have the space in my yard but I have a very active contingent of possums and raccoons who would LOVE me if I tried) but delicious free stock. Then you do like the chefs say: freeze it in another freezer bag flat, then "file it" in the freezer. 

This sounds very straight forward. It's not. The bags freeze to other things in the freezer and they get a little misshapen, but still so worth it when risotto time comes around. It always comes around. 

Speaking of did I tell you my butternut squash risotto technique that has everyone just passing out from how good it is? The secret: roast and puree your squash flesh, then make risotto as you would normally (hot stock, wine, arborio rice, probably some sauteed shallots to start). At the last minute, stir in the puree and a little bit of heavy cream. Lots of Parmesan (freshly grated, please, not that crap in a box). On top, garnish with fried sage leaves (heat some olive oil, toss in the leaves, when they get crispy -- one or two minutes -- fish them out , park them on a napkin or paper bag, and salt them with coarse sea salt. Put the rest of the sage in the freezer bag with your butternut squash trimmings. Be sure your risotto is swishy rather than gummy. I think people think it should be thick enough to stand a spoon in, but it shouldn't. It should swish about like a little minx after your man.

Risotto brings us to

RESOLUTION 2: Buy Only Whole Chickens. 

I think you are probably aware of my problem with industrialized chickens. Tortured in life, killed cruelly, they taste terrible and are basically heartbreak on a drumstick. I like my chickens happy, fat, pecking about in green fields, able to stretch their wings, then blammo. Quick dignified death at the hands of the folks who raised em, and to my plate or freezer the next day.

I get squeamish in grocery stores around the bloated white chicken carcasses that are sold for $1.79 a pound -- life should cost more than that. I want my chickens a little skinny and yellow (from eating lots of grass and bugs). And I want them whole. Whole means stock. It means ethically sourced wings (don't get me started about the massacres that happen to bring you a plate of hot wings. Lord). It means chicken thighs for a stew, chicken breasts for a saute, and fried drumsticks because yum. And then of coruse all that stock. And then  you use that in the risotto. Perfect circle. 

RESOLUTION 3: This has only tangentially to do with food but still. It makes cooking easier. 

Clean out and organize your pantry. I did mine color coded so it's like I'm shopping in Williams-Sonoma when I go to set the table. Mason jars for dry goods to keep the icky moths out. I also organized the fridge and tonight I am doing the freezer. The trick: break it up into small bits and commit just an hour (or 15 minutes, or whatever) to it. It work and makes life nice. I find myself opening the fridge and pantry simply to admire them. 

How to pack your bags.

So over on Apartment Therapy theres a discussion about how to pack for trips and how not to forget everything and do you start a pile of everything you want to bring?

The answer is "read below" (to questions 1 and 2) and no. 


I've traveled. I've had to pack for 9 week stints in war zones with body armor (it gets its own bag and weighs 40 lbs. Hideous. But your arms get super toned and you lose a ton of weight just carrying it around all day). And 10 country tours for work involving weird Saudi princes who wanted to buy me with 3 camels (really. A State Department official told them I was married with 3 kids, which as you have probably gathered is actually opposite reality, and they accepted that. That would be the only acceptable excuse not to marry this revolting 80 year old horrible prince and never get to drive my own car again. It's a 2001 Ford Focus).

So onto packing. I had a boyfriend years ago who was anal beyond all anality, and we once took a trip to a rather remote island off Florida where we had to bring not just all our camping gear but all our food too, as there were no stores or anything on the island (and not for about 2 hours in any direction.) . That's it, above.

This triggered every insane impulse he  ever had, including two bouts of REHEARSE packing to see if everything would fit in the bags we intended to carry. That means taking everything out we wanted to bring with us 2 weeks before the trip, piling it up, then putting it away. Twice.

The trip was a disaster -- the weather was bad, I wanted to kill him because of the insane control issues, and it all culminated with a tropical storm and gale force winds, me naked? practically naked? in the middle of the night  with lightning and thunder and lashing rain trying to secure our tent with the duct tape I had insisted we bring while he stood around and  yelled that I was doing it wrong. I yelled back "YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF THIS!" We stayed together more or less for 2 more years but never vacationed together again.

The upside was that in the morning all the shrimp fisherman landed on our island to recover from a rough night at sea and I was able to trade charcoal for a 5 lb bag  of just-caught shrimp which we ate all the rest of the week. The best schwimps I ever tasted.

(This island, Fort Jefferson off Key West, is a totally weird experience. There are no stores, no ATMs. Cash means nothing It's a barter economy. A bottle of tequila or charcoal is the best currency with the fisherman, who have refrigerators and lots of good stuff, but drink up their alcohol first, and don't bother with charcoal because who wants to burn down their fishing boat? But then they are out of luck when they land on the island and want to cook. The experience really drives home the importance and/or lack thereof of cash. It's freeing, really. But grim if you run out of food or tequila.)

In the ensuing years I covered my fair share of wars (that's me just after a patrol in Fallujah with a bunch of Iraqis and one Marine) which is probably the ultimate in packing. You've got to be smart about what you  bring, pack lightly because you're gonna be carrying it (sometimes, really fast...) and you can't get tampons in a war zone (easily, anyway). That's what I learned in the experience captured above.

So what I worked out is lists. This is not revolutionary, I know, but it works.

Make a simple chart that shows every day you will be on the road.
Divide the chart into categories:
clothes (to include accessories and undies)
equipment (computer, power cords,  thumb drives, pens, notebooks whatever)
documents (tickets, passports, directions)
hygiene: bandaids, meds, tampons, shampoo etc.
travel_ shizz for the plane ride. Books, Kindle, chewing gum, magazines, eye cover, socks.


Think through each day: what will you be wearing, when? Will you be exercising? What will you need to do your work (or go to wedding... gift? gift wrap?). Think through each day from the time you wake up to when you go to sleep. (wake up: wearing a t shirt and boxer shorts. Need flip flops for the shower. Need mesh bag to carry things to latrine. Need a towel. Toothbrush, toothpaste. Eye makeup remover. Moisturizer. Shampoo Floss etc).
Then what? On patrol: need body armor, helmet, ballistic eye wear. Pens (multiple), paper, tape recorder, extra batteries.Tampons, Advil (never be without tampons and advil). A few mesh Bandaids. Sun screen Water bottle. Luna Bars. Change of shirt and socks. Computer (never,never get separated from your gear).

Or a weekend beach getaway: wake in negligee, hygiene supplies, bathing suit, cover up, flip flops, hat, sunscreen, lavender spray (I love it), chapstick, towel, book for beach reading. sundress for later, undies that work with sundress. hair brush. Bathrobe if you're at a b&b where you;'ll walk down the hall to the shower.

It will look like this:
                                         Friday                            Sat                          Sunday
clothing
                                         yoga pants for drive       bikini
                                         t shirt                              hat
                                         blue dress                      red linen caftan
                                         strapless  bra                 flip flops
                                         blue sandals                   etc
                                         nightie                                       
hygiene                             tooth brush and paste
                                        hair brush
                                       
equipment                        Ipad
                                       charger
                                       batteries for beach radio

documents                       Reservation confirmation
                                        Directions and phone number of inn 


Write everything on your chart. Do this simply sitting on your couch or at your desk - don't try to gather the stuff. Don't pack a single thing until the list is completely filled out. No piles, no mess, and nothing will be forgotten.

The night before, pack it all up methodically going off the list. Pack the list last. When you come home, you can repack according to the list and you won't leave anything behind.

Follow these directions exactly for a panic-free packing experience. And a low stress trip.

My new project!

So we Ladies of Flavor sat down  and had a good hard think, and realized that what we really love is all the stuff we are able to do for farmers, vendors, chefs and landowners as a result of the magazine (ie, finding new sources for chefs, land for farmers, hooking up retail vendors with cool local food and wine artisans). So we decided to do it for reals.

May I introduce you to Foodshed? Foodshed is please to meet you. It's a non-profit that will be producing our new magazine (same idea, much more gorgeous) and doing the things officially we always just did anyway, on the side. Please go on and like our Facebook page https://www.facebook.com/pages/Foodshed-Magazine/446116425440743?ref=hl  

Our website will be up early next week at food-shed.org... you can subscribe there, or just donate! It is (or will be) tax deductible.

How to get cat hair off your velvet chesterfield.

I love my two cats beyond all reason. Their legs are too short, they are stupid, and they are irrational. But I love them. No one else could love them like I love them. I am a crazy cat lady, kept in check only by the fact that I have just 2 cats instead of more. I'd take home every kitten if I could. Like these! But I couldn't. So I drove them to a vineyard where they live very happily chasing voles and snuggling sheep.

Anyway. My two cats leave an awful lot of hair on my velvet chesterfield, which you may remember from such posts as "Merry Couchmas."
It's gray, 10 feet long, tufted and big enough for 3 adults to sprawl reasonably comfortably.

It also collects cat hair like a mofo. Cat hair is different from dog hair -- more tenaciously clinging, I think, to upholstery. So I finally worked out this excellent method which is both fast and weirdly satisfying.

You will need:
a set of dishwashing gloves. Mine are purple.
a dustbuster or a vacuum.

Method:
1. Don gloves.
2. Approach couch like surgeon who has scrubbed "in."
3. Begin rubbing the velvet back and for5h till the cat hair balls up and sticks to itself in long, yucky lines of cat yarn. bleck.
4. Vacuum up yarn.
5. Sit on hair free couch.
6. Sing my praises.

You're welcome. 

Last meal.

We buried my aunt this weekend after a five-year struggle with pancreatic cancer that finally spread to her lymphatic system and brain. It was brutal but she was quite something throughout her illness -- she worked up until five weeks before her death, and traveled all sorts of weird places (Bulgaria, China) between bouts of chemo because she wanted to cram in as much living as possible.

That's her in the photo above, nestled between my grandpa and dad. Her sister is to the right. My aunt and I shared a birthday; she called me every year to wish me a happy one.

A few years ago in the autumn, a little while into her diagnosis, she and my uncle were in D.C. so I invited them by for dinner. It was a weeknight, and I had a rather demanding job at the time, so I did almost everything the day before and my lovely boyfriend Steve set the table and reheated everything while I made my way home from work.

I served an appetizer of sliced beets, feta, Granny  Smith apples and horseradish/sour cream sauce, stacked up in free-form layers -- gorgeous reds, greens, and whites. My aunt wasn't eating much so I made her a mini version, like you'd get at some fancy restaurant.

For dinner I made chipotle/coffee/maple short ribs over mashed sweet potatoes. It sounds a little weirder than it is -- it's actually totally delicious. Sweet, bitter, and smoky-spicy all at once. Again for my aunt, just a daub of orange and brown on a plate, but she pronounced it delicious.

There were candles on the table and linen napkins, and wine. A lovely evening. I don't remember dessert.  

I learned from my uncle a couple of weeks ago that that was the last real meal she ever ate. She couldn't digest solid food after that, a function of the cancer, and was fueled almost entirely by liquid meal supplements.

I can't tell you both how awful and wonderful that was to hear. I have many deficiencies, but if there's one thing I can do, one gift I can give, it is to cook.

Iron your napkins and get out your wine glasses, be it for family, friends or just yourself. Think hard about what to serve, and have it be delicious. Make every meal a celebration. You may, like me, be very humbled and grateful that you did.

---
For the beets, simply roast them as you would, cool, peel, slice and layer with crisp apple slices and feta cheese. Mix a little horseradish into a few teaspoons of sour cream until you like the taste. If you have fresh dill, you can add that too. Drizzle the beet stacks with horseradish cream and serve with fresh cracked black pepper. 


This is more or less the short rib recipe.
http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Short-Ribs-Braised-in-Coffee-Ancho-Chile-Sauce-107596

 

How to write anything, in 12 easy steps.

I'm a magazine editor, reporter, and therefore, a writer. Writing is the last thing I worry about -- for me it's all about gathering information, making sure it is interesting and correct.

I work with a lot of writers, many of them new to the craft, and this is what I tell them when they are "blocked" and when they are struggling, and when they are writing crappily. I like that word, crappily.

This is a method I actually derived in college because of my towering laziness. It's easy and it works. 

1. Read over your notes a couple of times. Make a simple outline or flow chart  of what your piece will say. Don't fill in details -- just write how the thoughts will flow, a vague order that makes sense.

Here's an example from my own notebook:

Intro --> 7800 farmers markets, 2500 take snap
Farmers markets affordable?
New study says yes
Compared 24 common items
Found comparable prioces in season
Except meat, eggs
How to stretch that budget (whoel chicken instead of parts)
How snap works



2. Go to sleep. This lets the notes and details arrange themselves in your brain. The important stuff, the stuff that is actually interesting, will stick and be the most prominent parts of your work. That is as it should be.
3. Wake up, take a shower. That signals to your brain it's time to be serious. Turn on your computer. Don't go on the internet, don't check your email. Do not open Facebook under any circumstances.
4. Do not look at your notes before you start. That's just procrastinating.
5. Get a mental picture in your head of who you are telling this story to: your grandma? your best friend? Your favorite professor? Now tell the story. Write one true sentence after another. That's Hemingway's advice. Worked for Poppa, works for me, works for everyone.
6. Write your piece all the way through. Finish your draft. Don't get up till you do.
7. Now get up, stretch, eat a donut. Don't look at Facebook yet.
8. Sit back down. Get out your notes. Don't look at your screen. Read your notes. If there's anything important you forgot, it will jump out at you.
9. Add true, simple sentences including whatever information you neglected to include the first go round in a place that it makes sense.
10. Fix whatever facts, names, dates, numbers you may have screwed up in your memory by comparing them to your notes.
11. Put it all away.
12. The next day, read it over. Smooth out transitions. Rewrite whatever you think needs it. Don't try to get fancy - short, direct words, true statements -- that's what your readers want. You are not David Foster Wallace. Don't try to be. Be you. Impart what you know.  You're done.

ok, so D's kitchen! 
You'll recall she is transforming a first floor bedroom/living room combo into a full-blown apartment -- ie, adding a kitchen. She's got a $15k budget, more or less.  I am in charge and am very happy about that.  Here's the plan (you'll also recall the idiot builder she was going to go with wanted to do a corner kitchen in this rectangular room, which made my eyes roll back in my head with fury because hello: corner sinks generally suck, and super suck if you are jamming a dishwasher on one side and an oven on the other. You can't stand in front of the sink to load the dishwasher in that configuration. And there's no where to put anything next to the sink because the stupid range is there. Anyway: here's a better plan:

 Here's what it looks like in Ikea's 3D model (hint: even if you aren't buying ikea stuff, iots a really easy tool to do 3D planning -- better than others I have tried to use).

This first shot shows the room if you were standing at the double doors that open into the room from the street. The appliances aren't actually levitating -- I just didn't add in legs. Here's the genius part: I flipped a base cabinet around backwards so it's accessible from the snack bar side. This lets me block that area on the opposite side with a run of 1-foot deep cabinets. More counter space, more storage. The second genius part is the counter. I will actually be builduing that counter up with a false wall and topping it with a chestnut board I have that has a live edge on it (the bark and natural contours). Very fancy and Nakashima-esque.

here is a view if you are floating above the room. There is a lot of levitating in this kitchen,

This is a weird view from the far wall next to the fridge. If you were, say, a plant on the counter looking out.

 

I have a great handyman who can do all the cabinets, carpentry, and painting,and will get a professional plumber and electrician in to do the lighting and sewage. Hopefully I can get everything done for under $15K, and she can rent this place for big jack. The most fun part is I am TOTALLY IN CHARGE.