Posts Tagged bread

Why garden?

Because with a little effort and a lot of vegetable stock, this:
pumpkin

Becomes this:
pumpkin-risotto

The pumpkin was 100% free, as it grew from a volunteer plant that grew from a seed from the compost we spread on the garden. Compost from our neighborhood’s communal bin. Someone in the neighborhood had some pie pumpkins at some point last year, and composted the seeds, and I thank them.

The wilted mustard greens, in all their peppery goodness, were also from our garden though not volunteer but rather planted quite intentionally by me. They were the perfect compliment to the sweet, creamy risotto. We’ve got four mustard plants in the winter garden, and five more squash stored from this summer’s harvest, so I expect we’ll be enjoying this meal several more times before the winter is over. It was the best damn thing I’d eaten in I don’t know how long. So. Damn. Good.

And sure, you can buy a pumpkin and you can buy mustard greens. But it’ll cost you more, and there’s no way it can taste as good. Especially the greens. Nothing tastes quite the same as a vegetable that’s been harvested minutes before eating. That, and for the cost of a packet of seeds ($2.49), we’ll have greens on our table all winter.

The bread? Molasses wheat from an old bread cookbook that belonged to my parents. The book is so old, I assumed it was out of print and I was going to share the recipe with you, but a quick search proves there is a New! Updated and Expanded! edition, so good copyright adherent that I am, I simply recommend you look for this book in a store or library and see if it’s still got that molasses wheat bread recipe. If it does, it makes a damn fine bread.

It’s also quite good toasted, with butter and homemade blueberry jam. So excuse me, please. The fetus wants a snack.



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Almost But Not Entirely Unlike Pizza

almost but not entirely unlike pizza

almost but not entirely unlike pizza

I’m late with my post today. I’m sorry. Today was both emotionally and logistically complicated. By the time I was home, with everything settled that couldn’t wait till tomorrow, what I wanted was some comfort food.

I had planned to tell you about my Cheez Whiz® epiphany at the BBQ this weekend. It was the first time I’d eaten Cheez Whiz® in adult memory. The processed cheese food was part and parcel of a broccoli, chees/z and rice casserole, which was just about exactly the right accompaniment to the best backyard brisket I’ve ever tasted. (Note to Southerners: although he’s a born and bred New York City boy, my host was of Louisiana stock. You can put down your shotguns now.) I had planned to tell you about how it made me reconsider the local food thing. Not that I’m opposed to local and natural foods. Far from it: I’m delighted to support my local CSA; and I fully believe that, in addition to being demonstrably tastier, locally-grown low-intervention produce is actually healthier than its wan supermarket cousin. What I was thinking was more along the lines of this: if we’re good little locavores and eat all our kale, what’s the harm in a little Cheez Whiz®?

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Simple Summer Soup: Gazpacho

gazpacho_1

I can’t believe that I’d never made—or worse, even had—gazpacho before. Well, actually, I can. I didn’t grow up eating the most exotic, or daring—or hell, even sophisticated-sounding—foods. I was 23 before I realized that a crudité is just a veggie plate and that chèvre is goat cheese. And while I’ve known that gazpacho was just pureed tomato-based soup for quite some time, I still hadn’t actually attempted to make it—until Monday, when I looked in my fridge and realized I had the basic foundation for a simple gazpacho: tomatoes, cucumbers and onions.

After glancing at a few recipes online (anyone who has read my book knows that in my life I’ve only followed one recipe from start to finish) I decided I would up the bell pepper factor—most recipes called for one green pepper, I saw that green pepper and raised it a yellow one—make it a tad spicy and try something I now like to call the half-and-half method.

The half-and-half method is, simply, halving all of your gazpacho ingredients and pureeing one half while chopping the other—both in the blender, separately—and then combining the two.

While I have very little to compare it to (remember, I’d never had gazpacho before) I’m considering it a success.

Recipe after the jump…

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It Sure Is Tomato Season

bruschetta

I don’t get excited for baseball season or football season, or even for watermelon season. But I sure as hell get excited for tomato season.

Though my own fledgling plant has yet to be fruitful, and tomato season is delayed for many because of the cold, rainy summer, enough farmers in my general area have been lucky enough to  allow me to get in on the tomato action.

For at least a month now, I’ve been getting wonderful hydroponic tomatoes from local farms through my CSA (the yellow ones) and last weekend I picked up some great ripe red ones from a roadside stand in Southern Missouri. While I can’t tell you which ‘breed’ any of my tomatoes actually are, I can tell you that they are perfectly ripe and delicious. And when mixed with a little balsamic vinegar, olive oil, salt, pepper and fresh basil from the only plant on my balcony that’s producing anything, they’re a great topping for CSA sourdough bread that’s toasted on the stove in butter, lots of butter.

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Make it vs. Buy it

Staff of life, baby.

Staff of life, baby.

A big part of my strategy for meeting this budget of $50 a week per adult (and let’s not forget the $25 per week for the kid) is to make or grow as much of our food as possible. Within reason, that is. I could refuse to buy anything at all that could be made at home, but then I would never get anything done in my free time but food-making, and that’s just not the life I want, thanks. When I’m not toddler-wrangling, I have books to write, a garden to tend, Facebook Scrabble to play… And yeah, there’s this husband guy who hangs around the house, and he likes to get some attention, too. So it’s all well and good to make most of what I can, as long as I enjoy doing it, but I need to draw the line somewhere. I’d go nuts trying to do it all.

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How Does Your Garden Grow?

vegetable_garden_tomato2We here at Eating Well on Fifty Bucks a Week like to think we’re giving you a little something while helping our own wallets, whether it be recipes, helpful links or somewhat humorous one liners about our various vices (peanut butter, alcohol, expensive coffee in my case). Now, readers, I turn to you for advice.

I have mentioned in pretty much every post that I belong to an amazing CSA that provides me with milk, cheese, meat, bread, eggs and vegetables every week for only $25. Not only am I supporting local farms and eating foods I might not otherwise buy, I’m saving a ton of money on groceries. What I failed to mention when bragging endlessly about this particular CSA is that it ends in September—at which point I worry I will be royally screwed. The silver lining is that I will be forced to do what I’ve been saying I was going to do since I moved to Kansas City in late December: grow my own vegetables.

The landlord of the building next door has generously allowed me to use a 6 x 2-ish plot of land in the back of his building for my garden, but I’ll admit: I have no clue what the hell to actually do with it. I have most certainly missed planting season, the soil probably sucks and I have very little experience growing anything that can’t survive on a fire escape (even then, there’s been trouble).

So, if you were me—but with advanced knowledge of what vegetables to plant in the summer that would survive in the Midwest in possibly-crappy soil—what would you plant? And how?

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Reimagining Breakfast for Summer

a summer breakfast: bread, cheese, eggs, fruit, coffee

a summer breakfast: bread, cheese, eggs, fruit, coffee

The older I get, the more important breakfast becomes. In my twenties, I’d have nothing but coffee in the morning — or, worse, coffee and a cigarette. Now, at thirty-six, if I don’t get a decent breakfast, I’m dizzy by ten, incoherent by ten-thirty, and drool-napping at my desk by eleven in the morning.

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