snowangel

Morning of May 1: I am awakened by a hot, but sweet breath on my face. Before opening eyes, I sense that it is not long past dawn. I listen; hear the shower running, so I know that the hot breath is not that of DH ( ). Open eyes. I see Peter (age 7). In one hand he has my magnifying glass. He has my binoculars around his neck. In the remaining hand, he has a bunch of flowers and greens -- a few stray "weed" violets, Johnny jump-ups, and daffodils, and some spinach (from my compost crown), tied together with a twist-tie. "Happy May Day, mom!" I picked flowers that are as beautiful as you are. "And, I need a little help with breakfast. I picked some of that green spinach stuff from the compost thing. I even peeled a couple of the hard boiled eggs. Time for salad. And, the best thing...I think I saw a little greenish thingie on your wisteria. I think it is alive again!" As I've said before, Life Is Good. So, it was spinach, with hardboiled eggs, lightly dressed with evoo and a touch of balsamic (the good stuff my brother-in-law brought me from Italy last summer) for breakfast. We walked to school together, and he gave me a big hug and kiss when I left him at his classroom. Oh, to have a child young enough to think that having mom walk you to school, hug and kiss you in front of all of his friends is a grand thing. It is even grander to have a child that shares the passion for the garden thing. Fear of frost be damned, he and I have a date tomorrow afternoon to plant basil. A packet of seeds is really cheap.

I, like Dave, use a sheet pan with rack. A friend in the food service industry gave it to me. I think the sides must be 1/2" high, so, yes, it is high enough. It's much bigger and heavier than your standard jelly roll pan or cookie sheet. It is big enough that when I put it on top of the stove, I usually use 2 burners.

Leslie, this is how I do it (I include thighs in the braise). If I'm feeling lazy, I will butterfly and braise entire birds, "wrapping" breasts with fat pork stuff. Shallots are a welcome addition; I don't usually add raw garlic. DH and I go pheasant hunting every fall in S. MN, on a farm in the cornfields. Said farm has been in the family for 150 years. And, they need to get out of the freezer and into tummies mui pronto. The freezer is not a safety deposit box... Our pheasants never even make it to the freezer. Along the same lines, how, Leslie, do you do grouse? I have typically done it similar to pheasant, or braised the entire birds, preferably in something light colored so one can find the shot easier. Shot can equal a dental crown. Makes for a pricy bird.

I've seen them waxed before. I'm not sure why they put a thin coat of wax on them; perhaps to inhibit root growth or to keep them fresh? Anyway, are you sure that there wasn't a wax coating that you didn't completely remove?

No. Just poke your finger down as deep as you can, or dig a little in an area you are certain doesn't have any plants (or that you don't care about), but avoid checking up against the house. A soil thermometer just seems like another piece of equipment one would not be able to find next year (aka garage clutter). Rule of thumb for planting in our area of Minnesota is last weekend in May; assume you could probably go a week or two earlier, but Mother's Day seems pretty early this year..... Now to the good news! My daffodils and pulmonaria are finally blooming. With the exception of the few things noted above and my wisteria, I think just about all of my perennials are up. And, as I check my wisteria every day, I am reminded that the watched plant never buds.

There are no reliable indicators. You can look at a 30-day forecast, but a good portion of that is based on statistical averages and what the weather patterns are at that point. Remember, too, that the ground is still cold. Maybe not on the surface, but go down 9-12", and it is cold. Certain things do not like cold ground, most notably tomatos and peppers. Until the soil reaches a certain temperature, and nighttime temps average above a certain point (mid 60's, I think), they will just sit there. Plant green bean seeds when the ground is too cold and the seeds will rot. Rmember, too, that although a lot of stuff in your garden has come up, there may be other "late comer uppers" that haven't come up yet. I know that my balloon flowers and butterfly weed are always quite late, and if I got to anxious to plant, chances are I'd damage what's trying to come up. Now is the time to sit back and watch what's there just grow. In a month, you'll be so busy you'll wish you'd taken this opportunity to just enjoy...

Oooh...the one at Lake and Nicollet in Minneapolis. If you show up after bar call time, they always give you one less slider than you order. When you go back to complain, they holler "you're drunk and can't count." My kids think stopping at the White Castle in Hinkley, MN (on the way to the cabin; we're sober at the time) is a way big, big treat. "Oh, dad, sliders. Will we start to have slider farts before we get to the cabin?"

Idaho (or Minnesota ) russets. And, yes, I do olive oil and kosher salt them before baking...

Yes. I am of the butter/baked potato taste, therefore shall my children be.

Right under the space for introduction, there should be a line that says something like "have a list of ingredients? Try adding ingredients with the "Ingredient Wizard." All you should have to do is click on the words (button) "Ingredient Wizard." Maybe your browser doesn't support this? Vengroff, any ideas?

Fingers. In many parts of the world, and I'd bet that everyone started eating with fingers.

We have baked potatos often. If I'm in a real hurry, I'll start them in the microwave, then into my big toaster oven at 450. I want crispy skin, fluffy inside. One of my kids won't eat the skins. Not a problem -- cut in half, scoop out inside. I get the crispy skin filled with butter -- enough so it drops down my arms when I pick them up with my hands. All five in my family prefer then with butter and freshly ground black pepper. I don't often put out sour cream for them because the kids think that the potato would be a vehicle for cups of sour cream. Leftover baked potatos are great diced or shredded, fried until crispy and served with that other perfect food, the egg, over easy on top.

When I'm in that condition, I have three big glasses of water, a mess of ibuprofen, and go to bed. It seems to be worse with wine than vodka, gin, whiskey, etc.

It is 1:07 a.m. I just viewed a message from Jason. I WANT that sandwich that is featured in his avatar. No make, it I NEED that sandwich.

What a wonderful time of year. Emerging everything. First daffodil bloomed today. I have quit measuring things. We had a very dry winter, and I think the lack of early snow cover was not particularly kind to one of my azaleas, and I'm worried about my mongo wisteria, but other things are moving like crazy. Once again, as I have every year since we moved into our house, I spring from bed a first light, grind the coffee, set the coffee maker to on, take a shower, grab that first cup of Joe and bound outside to see what the day will bring. I spent the better part of last week watching things grow. Laundry be damned. The crown of spinach on my compost heap is glorious (and tasty), and I have scratched in lettuce (many varieties) in all of the holes in my perennial gardens that will be filled in by said perennials long after the greens have bolted or been eaten. Our bodies are gradually losing the neon white of winter and we are looking very healty and happy. Today was a day for running in the sprinkler and watching the daffodils bloom. Peter set the the timer and we checked them every 15 minutes. Peter got his first outdoor buzz cut of the year. The interior of my house is a wreck. There are a bazillion loads of laundry stacked up. But, what is more important? Clean clothes or dirty fingernails? I think the latter. Paul and I were sort of child-free this evening (Peter and Diana and my mom and dad's, Heidi passed out at 6:30 pm from too much outside fun) and dined al fresco, under our pergola with the icicle lights, on leftover poached salmon, that compost spinach (lightly dressed with EVOO and fresh strawberries), and each other ( ). All bug-free. Life is SO good.

Yes. I asked my dad about this. He grew up on a farm in NE and slaughtered and butchered his first cow when he was 13 (4-H project). Years later, he married my mother, and put himself through grad school by working for her father (a grocer) as a butcher. This would have been after he was a marine aircraft carrier pilot, but before he created a department of agricultural economics at a univ. in Thailand. This stint at the grocery would have been late 50's, early 60's, in Lincoln, NE, back in the days of a true, full-service grocery. Most of the beef they sold was not dry aged, but they did offer this as a service to their customers. Customers would request dry aged beef. My dad would go to a "cow place," help select and slaughter the cow. He'd haul the whole sides back to the grocery in the back of his 57 Chevy stationwagon; his brother following behind with more sides in the back of their folks pick-up if necessary. They would hang them in the meat locker. Every so often, my dad would go in and scrape the mold off of them. # of days? Somewhat determined by schedule. Since he knew the guy at the "cow place" really well, they would usually do this on a Sunday afternoon. Since the grocery was closed on Sunday afternoons, he'd usually go and cut up the aged side on a Sunday, 4 weeks following the butchering, but, again, this depended on how many sides were hanging and aging. Light, humidity, temp, all played a part in this, and how many sides would greatly influence this. Further, since they were a "full service" grocery, my dad knew exactly how every customer wanted their side cut, and how many/weight of each thing should be packaged, i.e., 2 t-bones per package. For those customers who didn't have a deep freeze, they would store the meat, frozen, for each customer, labeled appropriately. And, since this was back in the days when they delivered groceries, Mrs. X could call on a Friday, order her groceries and a particular quantity and cut of "her" meat and they would deliver it. My mom and I (a tot at this point) would deliver. My mom remembers that the wife of the guy who owned the Studebaker dealership would leave her back door open and we'd take the groceries in, and put those that needed to go in the fridge or freezer in the appropriate place (my mom also noted that we did not put away the non-perishables). My mom also remembers that every time we delivered groceries and she wasn't at home, the plates from the previous meal (unscraped) were always stacked inside the fridge. So, that's what I know about aging beef. My dad says that doing it in your fridge will not present the same results. Odors, inability to control the temp of the fridge (because of how often it is opened), inability to control humidity (because of all of the other stuff in the fridge). It can make the beef taste better, but it is no substitute for beef aged in a meat locker fridge thing (techno talk).

Bacon. Bean and cheese burritos with lots of little thai chilis. Larp. Salami sandwich on toast (open face) with lots of Malle mustard. Leftover steak. I'm not of the open a container and get a spoon school.

Ditto.

And, this statement says would why you are the Goddess of the Heartlands.

A couple more: "But mommy, why can't we eat the big goldfishy fish in your garden pond?" asked Peter coyly. (assuming homonyms apply, but then again, just about anything probably goes with egullet ) And, finally, because one so rarely uses the adverb in the following: "I can't believe you'd serve me fries fried in lard," his vegetarian friend protested unctiously.

Tom Swifties. I have not had a "witty" week. All of the kids have colds and are whiny. But, here goes: "Why Klink, let me count the ways...brisket, kielbasa, ribs, pork shoulder..." murmurred Batgrrrl smokily. "Waiter, I ordered this steak black and blue, not well done" beefed Jinmyo rawly. "A cornichone. Just an expensive dill pickle if you ask me," sneered Bertha sourly. "Honey, don't forget to butter and flour the cake pan" said Mom dryly. "Darling, but that salad is a 3-day garlic commitment; eat it and you sleep alone" informed his beloved odoriferously.

Our local paper -- Minneapolis Star Tribune -- has small articles, featuring a couple of rhubarb recipes, three or four times a year. I guess that makes sense, because when I look around my neighborhood, 80% of the yards have at least one rhubarb plant. From today's Taste section (including a chutney): Rhubarb recipes

Potato leek soup, leek and asparagus soup, Mamster's Leek and Onion Tartlets, carrot/leek gratin (PM me for recipe; I haven't added it to archive yet), roasted with other spring root vegetables are some of the ones that come to mind.

I make this one once a month. Although I've memorized the recipe, I still have the card, written by my great, great grandmother. It's my kids favorite. I've put it in the recipe archive: Burnt Sugar Cake About a year ago, Peter was at the grocery with me. We were in the baking aisle. He asked "Mom, what are in these boxes," and I replied "cake mixes." His response "Wow. How do those work?"

Burnt Sugar Cake I make this cake about once a month; the kids love it. I still have the original recipe card, written by my great grandmother, so it is an oldie, but goodie. Comfort food. Cake 2/3 c White sugar 1/4 c Boiling water 1/2 c Butter 1-1/2 c White sugar 3 Eggs, separated 2-1/2 c All purpose flour (divided) 1 c Cold water 2 tsp Baking powder 1 tsp Salt 2 tsp Vanilla Frosting 1 c White Sugar 1 c Whipping (heavy) cream Preheat oven to 350. In small skillet, burn 2/3 c. sugar until dark amber; remove from heat. Add boiling water carefully (it will steam and sputter. You may have to add a bit more water. Set aside to cool. Cream butter. Add sugar, beat well. Add egg yolks, vanilla and cold water, again beat well. Add two cups of flour. Add burnt sugar, being careful to NOT scrape out the pan -- just pour and leave some of the burnt sugar in the skillet. In separate bowl, beat egg whites until stiff peaks form. Fold beaten whites into batter with 1/2 cup flour and baking powder . Pour into prepared pan(s) -- three 9" round layers, one 9 x 13, or a bunch of cupcakes, depending on how full you fill them. My kids really like the cupcakes filled to the point that the batter sort of overflows, leaving nice crisp little "collars" around them. My grandmother always said that the tradition was to first eat the collars, making a wish with every bite. Bake until barely done -- cake springs back and a toothpick comes out almost clean. When the cake is cool, make frosting. DO NOT WASH SKILLET WITH BURNT SUGAR WHILE YOU ARE WAITING FOR CAKE TO COOL. For the frosting, in the skillet, add the cream and sugar. Cook until the burnt sugar mixes in with the cream and sugar and pour into a saucepan. Continue cooking, stirring constantly, until the frosting reaches the soft ball stage. Remove from heat, and beat (with a wooden spoon) until just before spreadable -- if you beat it too long, the frosting may become a little to hard to spread, especially if you are doing layers or cupcakes. I usually burn a bit more sugar and double the frosting recipe -- particularly if I am doing layers. One must make sure that there is enough frosting left in the saucepan for licking. Keywords: Dessert, Intermediate, Cake ( RG424 )