Archive for the ‘Recipes’ Category
I love fall. It’s my favorite season. Aside from the crisp fresh air, the colorful tree displays and, of course, football, it’s the time of year that sends me into nesting mode. I guess that doesn’t sound too exciting, but trust me, it’s the best. For me, it means waking up on a brisk Saturday morning, starting a fire in the wood stove, and getting out the big stainless steel stock pot. What happens next is nothing less than magical. With some fairly inexpensive cuts of meat, leftover veggies, salt, wine and water, I’m able to make bone broth – the delicious, nutritious base to so many great fall recipes.
A lot has been said about bone broth lately. I’ve read about bone broth in magazines, books, on blogs and in newspapers. Here in Portland, we even have a Broth Bar that serves a wide variety of bone broths with your choice of add-ins. Genius.
I love that traditional foods are getting so much attention these days. If my mom were still with us, she would probably get a wrinkle on her forehead, squinch her eyebrows together and ask (in her really thick German accent) “What’s the big deal with bone broth, it sounds like just soup to me.” Yes mom, it is just soup. It’s the kind of soup you used to make, not the kind of soup that most of us eat out of a can or box. It’s the kind of soup that values frugality, that uses leftovers and meaty bones, that takes all day over a slow fire, that ends up being so delicious it is sometimes attributed with healing powers. But that’s kind of silly, because all good food – real food – has the power to heal. Enough reminiscing. On to the broth.
What makes bone broth so amazing is the minerals and collagen that come from the bones and connective tissues in meat which pass along to us in the broth. And while a perfectly wonderful broth can be made with just the bones, a little meat adds flavor and texture to the broth. I use a mix of knuckle and femur bones with a couple of meaty, boney (and inexpensive) shanks. Throw the bones in a 400 degree or so oven to let them brown, then brown the meat in the stock pot with a smidge of olive oil to keep them from sticking. Browning adds color and flavor to the broth.
Here’s the best part of a great broth. You don’t have to buy a mix of fresh veggies from the store or farmer’s market. You can use the ends, stems, and funny looking veggie parts that you don’t use during the week. In this batch I used carrot peels, a sad-looking carrot, a left over celery heart and the cut-off ends of the stalks, broccoli stems, kale stems, the top and bottom ends of a couple of beets, parsley stems, and onion ends and peels. I cut one additional onion in half and browned it with the bones for good measure. In all, the veggies were about the same volume as the bones and meat.
To round out the flavor, I add a few whole peppercorns and a couple of whole cloves. Salt is optional. If you’re planning on using the broth in recipes or reducing it, don’t add salt; but occasionally, I like to add just a pinch of sea salt to bring out the flavors. Acid helps break down the collagen and draw out the minerals, so if I have a little wine left over from the previous evening I’ll add a generous splash to the pot. Leftover wine is fine, but don’t use plonk. If you don’t have any decent wine (i.e. wine you would drink), add a couple of tablespoons of vinegar. Finally, I add some herbs – a bay leaf, maybe some thyme and a few extra stems of parsley.
When everything has found its way into your pot, fill the pot with water, cover and set on the stove. I set the heat to medium until just before it boils, then turn the heat to low and let it sit all day. You don’t want the broth to boil, just a light simmer will do. After 8 to 12 hours of slow cooking, I skim all the veggies and other bits from the top and set the broth pot out to cool. Usually I’ll start the stock in the morning, let it cook all day and then just before going to bed, I’ll skim it and set it out on the back porch to cool overnight. In the morning a lovely layer of yellow fat will cover your broth. Skim this off if you want, but don’t throw the fat away. The fat can be used for cooking – I like to sauté veggies with it.
Once the fat is skimmed from the top, I reheat the gelatinous remains just enough to liquefy. Remove the bones, meat and remaining veggies and pour the broth through a strainer into containers. Voilà, a week’s worth of healthy goodness! Aside from soups, I use the broth to braise veggies and meat, create thick, silky sauces, make gravies and reheat leftovers. If, like me, you’re trying to break a decades long coffee addiction, a warm mug of broth in the morning is (almost) as comforting, and much healthier, than that cup of joe.
That’s it, except for some final words of encouragement. Like all homesteading projects, making bone broth takes time and planning. While it’s much quicker to pick up that hermetically sealed box of broth from the store, the health benefits of homemade bone broth far outweigh the convenience of store bought – not to mention the amazing smells that fill the house as the broth slowly simmers. It doesn’t sound like much, but how we feed our families is a fundamental statement of our values. Every part of this process that we can take out of the hands of corporations brings us closer to better health, better sustainability and a greater sense of “home”. We all work, we all have busy lives, but sometimes it’s worth the extra time spent. Nuff said.
A series brought to you by Harriet Fasenfest, author of A Householder’s Guide to the Universe and a Portland area local. Harriet will be writing regularly about the farmwife movement and responding to readers’ own experiences and questions. If you’d like a question answered on a future blog post, send your letter to the email address at the bottom of this essay.
Okay August, it’s on. I’m on, you’re on, we’re all on — the bounty, the harvest and full court preserving. With July behind us we are well underway. Jam pots have been filled and freezers packed with berries. Yes, July gave us pause but nothing like what stands before us. August, my friends, is where the rubber meets the road as stone fruits, beans, squash, cucumbers, pepper and tomatoes fall in mad succession. This is our proving ground, the time farmwives earn their cred, the time the reasons for the season make themselves known.
I’ve already mentioned some of the reasons, let us call it the farmwife initiative. But other reasons exist – tasty ones, frugal ones, smart, farm-wife cooking ones. This matter of cooking is, at the end of the day, what food preservation is all about, but I do not hear enough of it. Not in the manner that befits the cause and that concerns me a bit. Because without cooking food preservation floats perilously in the modern world of trending and trends do pass. Before long jars of pickles and jam will saddle up between knitted hats and macrame plant holders (if you’re that old) to gather dust and mock our fleeting fascinations. I do not want to scold, but form without full-bodied function is our culture’s folly and the death knell of many a movement. Which is why I am up in arms touting cooking – day in and day out cooking, solid simple everyday cooking, cooking from our (own) stores, cooking from the food we have put up in volume and farmer direct, cooking as the motive and logic behind this movement because without that important piece our movement is open to what may come.
I’ve thought long and hard about what may come and I don’t think I’m far off. You see, without our deep and continued support small-scale farmers will need to look evermore to the market place for their survival. To a certain degree they already do but in the long term the marketplace (with its long established operational systems) will demand an ever greater participation in a system that belies the heart of this movement. The culprit (if I’m to call it that) is something called economies of scale and without going into it’s operational raison d’être, (if only because other posts will cover it) I will simply tell you that small farmers ain’t got it and likely don’t want it. What they have in it’s stead, however, is the proverbial swimming-up-stream scale because being small in an economy pegged to big is way more than an ideological stance — it is a challenge of unparalleled proportions. Hourly wage??? Don’t ask. So why do they do it? Well, because they’ve looked at the land and the soil and the environment and figured out that of all the many things they could do in this life farming, honest small scale farming, might be the most ethical. At least that’s how I figure it and I sorta agree. Which is why I love them and love imagining I am a part of that life but not without understand my responsibility in the matter.
You see, to allow them to shoulder the weight of some pastoral mystique without standing shoulder to shoulder in the effort is blatantly unfair, and so I cook. To leave them alone to deal with the cost of land today, the cost of start up, the learning curve, the merciless hours, the back breaking work is unfair, and so I cook. To imagine they can sustain all the hand work and trips loading and unloading at farmer’s markets or management of weeds or watching produce gone to seed or chores left undone or a house left to disrepair is unfair, and so I cook. To assume that it is fair that they cannot pay for help or take a weekend off is unfair, and so I cook. I cook because I’m afraid what will happen if I don’t. Because if I don’t then I cannot blame them for looking elsewhere. Soon they will be open to whatever port in a storm is available to them. Soon specialization will creep back into the lexicon. Soon (and this is beginning to happen) they will be approached by big business (the brokers and big chain supermarkets) telling them to quit all that silly small farm diversity stuff and grow an exclusive main crop at guaranteed prices before season’s end which will mean, as it has meant before, pennies on the dollar.
Soon competition will increase and payments decrease. Soon get big or get out will repeat its rationalizing mantra. Soon farmers will see their crop shipped or trucked hither and thon or mixed with the produce of other farms to end up as private-label, value-added stuffs marketed as “organic on a budget” which will, at first glance, appear fair but on closer consideration will reveal the principles of economies of scale and efficiency systems and vertical integration come full circle. Soon it will be production, distribution and consumption as usual if only with a brand new organic and local party hat and frankly, who could blame them? I mean you try being a broke ass hard working small scale farmer for a couple of years and then talk. So I get it, see it, and fear it. We is why I yammer on so much about farm direct purchasing and farmwifery, food preservation and now cooking. It is why, if you haven’t figured it out, I say we farmwives are important, no, VITAL, bookends to this movement and that we have to show up, put up, be counted and cook. If not do not be surprised when the revolution is packaged and sold on your grocer’s shelf.
But what’s that you say????? You’re too busy to cook. I know that rationale and I will not jump into that briar patch except to say busyness is not particular to our generation but rather, as a generation, particularly based on the presupposition of leisure. And leisure, as it has been handed down to the people (particularly during the growing season) is the rationale of efficiency systems, cum industry, cum economies of scale, cum marketing, cum chicken Mc nuggets or, at the other end of the spectrum, fancy hand-crafted foods that speak the language of a movement many times removed from the economies of small scale farming. Leisure, as it turns out, is based on a certain lie and either costs too much or too little and, dependent on class, is feeding a people either filler or hype.
Yes, yes, we are busy or perhaps only seduced by the easy flow of food stuffs brimming from street carts to grocery stores (in fact Heat-and-Eat family meals is one of the quickest growing segments in grocery sales) or because we imagine cooking a mystery. My sense is we’ve made too much of cooking or maybe just fancy cooking. But farmwife cooking ain’t fancy, it’s real!
Perhaps one day I’ll get around to writing a cookbook that shows just how simple it can be. Then again, there are plenty of books out there that can give you the basics and as I’ve written before, all you really need is one “how to cook everything” cookbook and you’re set. The Joy of Cooking is still my go-to favorite, but the point is you don’t need to complicate things. Really, all you need is a willingness and commitment to cook your meals.
I guess I’m lucky. I hail from a generation whose parents still cooked. Utility was the point, frugality was the reality. There were no recipes, in fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother look at a cookbook. What she had was a repertoire. Most nights there were baked potatoes set on the dinner table, and no one ever decried the repetition. They were easy to make, affordable and tasty; a virtual farmwife trifecta. Vegetables were simply steamed with a little meat roasted or broiled to the side. Dessert was simple. Applesauce or fruit compote – that mystery of stewed dried fruits reconstituted with a bit of lemon peel and cinnamon. A miracle of thrifty innovation.
Beside my mother I have sat at the table of older farmwives. Women I have met since moving to Oregon and from whom I’ve learned both the simplest and most profound style of cooking. Biscuits or cornbread cooked in the flash of an eye and repeated infinitum. A jar of pickles brought out at every meal or that here-to-fore odd but soon to be revived (if I have anything to do with it) mixture of frozen mixed vegetables cooked in a flash. Sausage, steaks, ground beef or chicken defrosted and simply cooked (if you go that way) keeps it easy along with a bit of mashed potatoes. Canned fruit sauces (apple, pear, plum, whatever), served to the side of many a pork chop or for dessert or in baking – miles and miles of baking in muffins and cake – is simply utility unbound.
Yes, this is August, the season of our madness. As you continue with your bad selves let me encourage you to think seriously about how you cook, what you cook, how much you cook and, most importantly, why you cook. Choose items to preserve or store that will go the distance. Put on your farmwife hat and think utility more than fancies. And on that note I offer you mom’s recipe for stewed fruit. Couldn’t be any easier.
In a pan put an assortment of dried fruit (the fruit you dried over the season)
Suggestions: – Prunes, apples, apricots and pears
Add a stick of cinnamon and a few slices of lemon peel
Add water to cover
Bring to the boil
Turn off heat, cool
Put in a jar and let the fruit sit overnight to make it’s own syrup
Eat as is or served with yogurt or cottage cheese or on pancakes or, or, or.
Will stay good in fridge till a very long time!
Please send your letters, comments, and questions for Harriet to email@example.com, including farmwife in the subject line. We look forward to hearing from you!
More than ever before, customers have been in the shop asking about low and no sugar jams. I’m glad they’re doing their research, because jumping into low-sugar jams involves a little more than simply cutting out sweetener. Sugar isn’t just in jam for the flavor, it serves a very real role as a preserving and thickening agent. When heated, the sugar actually binds with water and pectin, thickening the texture. If you’ve ever tried converting your favorite old-timey recipe by skipping the sugar, you know that the result is anything but gelled.
The classic product that we carry for low and no sugar jams is Pomona’s Universal Pectin. This company has been around for over 30 years, and creates a great product with no preservatives that is certified GMO free.
Though I’ve made classic jams, I hadn’t dabbled in low-sugar recipes before. I needed to give this stuff a try. I had heard there was an extra step of mixing up “calcium water” (provided with the pectin) to provide gelling assistance. Would be complicated to work with two ingredients? I whipped up a quick batch of strawberry jam at the shop to find out, and I’m glad to say that I’m completely happy with the results.
Each pack of Pomona’s comes with directions inside. These directions are also available to download for free on their website. The recipes aren’t fancy, but they allow you to make jam with the bare minimum ingredients. I chose strawberries, as we’re nearing the end of the first flush here in the Portland area. The directions give clear ingredient lists for whichever type of fruit you choose. I followed the following recipe, but skipped the water bath at the end. This test batch will be gone soon!
Ingredients (for a 4 cup yield):
4 cups of strawberries, hulled and mashed
1/2 to 1 cup of honey OR 3/4 to 2 cups sugar
2 tsp pectin
2 tsp calcium water*
*From the Pomona’s packet, put 1/2 tsp. white calcium powder and 1/2 cup water in a small, clear jar with lid. Shake well. Lasts many months in refrigerator. Freeze for long-term storage. Do not discard unless settled white powder discolors or you see mold. Shake well before using.
If you’ve got the basics down and want to try a more involved recipe, Pomona’s has many delicious versions on their website (Sweet Cherry-Rhubarb Jam is next on my list). If you’re more interested in a book on the subject, we carry Preserving with Pomona’s Pectin, filled with additional recipes and tips for working with low sugar recipes, or using honey, fruit juice, or other alternatives to sugar.
I hear a lot about asparagus this time of year, and for all you asparagus lovers out there, I ask your forgiveness. This post isn’t an ode to your favorite spring-time vegetable, but rather a tale of an asparagus skeptic. Yes, I love spring. Fresh greens, radishes, spring raab…But asparagus? I can’t seem to muster the same excitement for this vegetable, despite it’s ancient credentials.
As manager at the Portland Homestead Supply, I’ve had the opportunity to learn and practice many skills over the past year and a half. Water bath canning is one of them. Two weeks ago at the Milwaukie Sunday Farmers Market, I decided it was time to start brushing up on my canning skills. I (gasp) picked up several bunches of the most tender asparagus I’ve ever seen, took them home, and pondered their fate.
While I may be skeptical about asparagus, I wholeheartedly love spicy. After looking for a spicy pickled asparagus recipe, I adapted this recipe from Marisa who writes for Food in Jars. I found that the two pounds of asparagus I brought home fit into three jars rather than the two she recommended. I also increased the amount of pickling liquid (and spices) because the amount listed wasn’t enough to fill my jars.
Many of the recipes I found called for blanching the vegetables before canning, but these spears were so thin that I worried blanching would be too much for them. If you start with thicker asparagus, be sure to blanch them for 60 seconds in boiling water, then rinse with cool water before canning.
After waiting a week for the flavors to mingle, I dug into the first jar. And, I’ll admit it: (pickled) asparagus is delicious.
- 2 lbs asparagus, trimmed to fit jars (Ball’s 24 oz Pint & Half jars are designed for asparagus)
- 2 1/2 cups apple cider vinegar
- 2 1/2 cups water
- 3 Tbs pickling salt
- 6 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
- 3 tsp crushed red pepper flakes
- 3/4 tsp cayenne pepper
- Prepare a boiling water bath canner. Add three 24-ounce jars to sterilize them before adding asparagus. Place lids in a small pan of water and bring to a bare simmer.
- Combine apple cider vinegar, water, salt, garlic, crushed red pepper flakes, and cayenne pepper in a saucepan and bring to a boil.
- Wash asparagus and trim to fit in your jars.
- Remove jars from the canning pot and drain. Pack asparagus spears into jars.
- Stir pickling liquid to evenly distribute spices, then pour over the asparagus, leaving 1/2 inch headspace. Tap jars gently to remove any air bubbles. Add more liquid to return headspace to 1/2 inch, if necessary.
- Wipe rims, apply lids and rings, and process jars in a boiling water bath canner for 10 minutes.
- When time is up, remove jars from canner and let them cool on a folded kitchen towel.
- Let them cure for at least a week before eating.