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the last oranges of winter

We’re in that muddily grey area between winter and spring where cold-weather produce still lingers in groceries but springtime foods are slowly encroaching on their territory. In times like these, this is my kind of salad. The cara-cara oranges are still sweet and juicy, the greens are fresh and local, and the feta cheese and snappy white balsamic are creamy, earthy, and bright. If I think to pick up a bunch of fat, little radishes, I like to shave one in as well. And as summer approaches, I’ll add a little mustard to the dressing to coat pencil-thin haricot verts, sun-kissed cherry tomatoes, and torn, leftover chicken.

I’ve eaten a version of this salad almost every day for the past two weeks, and find myself instinctively grabbing a container of greens whenever I’m at our market. Once you have the basic ingredients on hand, it’s the kind of dish that happens almost by itself.

spring greens salad with cara-cara oranges, radishes, and feta
serves 2-4

I’m in love with mâche or “lamb’s lettuce;” its tiny, leafy rosettes have a sweetness and a slight textural resistance that makes me feel like I’m eating a succulent. I’d recommend trying it here, but any tender mix of greens will do. Adding a handful of walnuts wouldn’t be out of place, either, and their crunch would offset the softer textures nicely.

4 cups mâche or other baby greens (about 3 large handfuls; if using mâche rosettes, gently separate them into smaller collections of leaves)
2 cara-cara oranges, cut into supremes
2 ounces fresh, sheep’s milk feta
2 tablespoons white balsamic vinegar
kosher salt
black pepper
2 tablespoons grapeseed, canola, or other light-flavored oil

Layer the greens, orange supremes, and feta in a wide, shallow salad bowl. Pour the white balsamic vinegar into a small bowl or jar. Add a large pinch of salt and a few grinds of black pepper, and stir with a spoon or swish the vinegar around to help the salt dissolve. Leave for a couple of minutes to ensure the salt has fully dissolved before adding the oil. Slowly pour the oil into the vinegar, whisking simultaneously if using a bowl. If using a jar, simply screw the lid on the jar after adding the oil and shake vigorously. Take a leaf from the salad and dip it into the bowl or jar to taste the dressing, and adjust the vinegar, oil, salt, and pepper ratios as you see fit.

Pour half of the dressing onto the salad, and toss gently. Add more dressing if necessary, making sure each element of the salad is lightly coated. Transfer to individual dishes, or serve straight from the bowl.

suggested additions (add one or a few!):
radishes*
walnuts
shaved fennel
shaved celery root

*If you, like me, marvel at the paper-thin perfectly round radish slices some people seem born to make, but nearly make rounds of your finger while slicing the unwieldy globes, here’s a hint: use a mandoline to make your slices. Some mandolines also offer you the option of dicing or waffle-cutting your vegetables, but you can find good, cheap versions without all of the bells and whistles. You do still have to watch your fingers, but sometimes a mandoline will come with a slide-able guard to help ease your mind. And if you don’t want to throw down for a mandoline but still want those little round slices, seek out icicle radishes (the kind shaped like short carrots); you can more easily hold one end while slicing the other and you’ll have beautiful white and pink rounds of which everyone will approve.

i heart the selby

Sometimes, while trolling the internet, I stumble upon something so weird or unique or awesome (or uniquely awesome or awesomely weird) that I feel the need to call all of my friends and close relatives and brief acquaintances and say “Have you heard of this thing? WELL…”

Well. I would like to introduce you to The Selby. Perhaps you have already met?

The Selby is actually Todd Selby (a person), who is responsible for this blog and this book. In both, he depicts the famous, the infamous, and the curiously obscure in their homes or places of business. And may I posit that you’ve likely never seen homes or workplaces quite like these (unless maybe you own a space like one of these, in which case I hope to see you on The Selby someday).

This is Dorothee Schumacher, a designer who makes her home in Germany. Her house is breathtaking. It is an old, brick Tudor-Gothic mansion that perches on its hill like a piece of statement jewelry on a rather plain person and strikes the sort of initial visual chord that makes you (or me) wonder, does someone actually live there? But while the exterior may seem a bit imposing, the surrounding grounds and interior design prove that this house is very much a home, and that this is a lady who knows what she likes and does what she wants. Including inviting her miniature pony into her living room for tea time (but, really, who wouldn’t want to do that).

The coop for Schumacher’s high-rolling chickens:

Perhaps the most fabulous closet in existence:

And here is Mathias Dahlgren in his eponymous restaurant in Sweden. The kitchen might rival hospitals in its cleanliness, and the cooks likely match surgeons in their deftness and precision. To me, each dish is so whimsical yet so deliberate, they look almost as if it happened magically, independent of any human interference or guidance. And when I came to the photo of Dahlgren’s Bocuse D’or (the culinary competition on scale with the Olympics) first place certificate, I have to say I was not the least bit surprised.

The man himself:

And I don’t know what these little cornbread muffin things are, but I would very much like to eat one.

But aside from the gorgeous photos and interesting people, what I think I love most about The Selby and those featured in The Selby is that everyone is so very themselves. What a brilliant idea to store your National Geographic collection in your café (and wouldn’t it be something if someone opened a café solely as a place to store their National Geographic collection? I think that would blow my mind). I have absolutely no idea what my house would look like if it were so very myself, except that perhaps I would own a copy of EVERY COOKBOOK IN THE WORLD, MWAH-HA-HA.

And maybe a swing like this:

What would your house look like?

IT IS OFFICIAL. We will have at least 5 tomato plants this season!

Our very first tomato raised its little green head yesterday morning; I could almost watch it stretch, it happened so quickly! I actually got scared a few nights ago because I read an article about how tomato plants can be more difficult to sprout from seed than other plants (does anyone have experience with this?). And though I’ve sprouted tomatoes from seed a couple of times, reading about the general problems made me worry that maybe mine would have the same sort of trouble as well, especially since it was near the end of their prescribed germination period and almost everyone in my seed tray seemed lethargic. But a second seed sprouted soon after the first, and then three more popped up as well. Even if those five seeds turn into my only tomato plants this year, I don’t even care. I am already so dang proud of them.

I think Richard may get bored with me calling him in to see that “another seed sprouted!” And later, “it’s taller! Come see, it’s taller!!” But so far he’s been able to match my plant enthusiasm, which is no small feat these days. And we both are marveling over how plants look so similar in the baby stage; tomatoes look a little like fuzzy spinach sprouts, thyme looks like oregano, basil looks like lavender… I mean I guess it makes sense. Human babies look very similar to each other when they’re young, don’t they? And then they grow up into Steven Tyler and Marilyn Manson.

But enough about our plants, because we have other exciting news; our landlord approved our request to have chickens! I’m so excited, but also slightly terrified to be responsible for a whole new breed of animal. Thankfully, there are a lot of useful resources and experienced people who have been very helpful in aiding our decisions as far as what breeds to get, how big our coop ought to be, and how to keep our chickens happy and healthy. So far, I’ve found that backyardchickens.com, Wasatch Gardens, and Harvey Ussery’s book The Small-Scale Poultry Flock have answered my questions quite thoroughly (not to mention the very nice guy at the general store on the corner that I pester on a semi-regular basis). I’m also getting a big kick out of Henderson’s chicken breeds chart and its lighthearted descriptions of egg-laying capabilities, hardiness, and birds ranging from “graceful” and “curious” to “extremely fierce” and “stately or awkward.”

How are you getting ready for spring, and what are you growing this year? If you’re feeling daunted about starting a garden and have some spare $ (or at the very least, some spare time to get inspiration), take a peek at minifarmbox.com. The creator of the site had a fabulous feature on Sunset.com, and I can’t help but drool over his raised beds chock full of tomatoes, peppers, peas, and carrots (plus his cool, casual picnic table and deck!). I usually give my plants a little more space between them than he appears to give his, but his vegetables appear to be thriving (and I love how his boxes almost look like they are exploding with tomatoes).

And if you’re also entertaining the idea of chickens or just feel a little coop curious, I’m betting you’ll love these mod digs from kippenhouse. How awesome is that rooftop garden? Not only does it insulate the coop, but it keeps you from losing precious garden space (especially if, like me, you have a limited yard to begin with).

I don’t have the bucks to throw down on a true Kippenhouse, but I’m thinking I might incorporate the garden-box roof into our homemade version. For more examples of swanky coops, check out backyardchickens.com.

spring pea soup with curry


This picture gets me so excited.

If everything goes as planned, in a few months this space will be filled with spinach, chard, watermelons, tomatoes, eggplant, radishes, and beans. Our dining room’s window seat is full of seed trays where the beginnings of our garden lay soaking up sunlight and water. Even the plants outdoors are beginning to show their true colors after a long winter’s nap. I drove home the other day to find a sprinkling of deep blue daisies pushing themselves up among the sticks and twigs in our front yard, as well as some TBD bulbs on the west side of our house slowly inching their way towards the sky.


In fact, last week I got so excited about spring, about planting a garden, and about eating everything summery, that I went on a bit of a seed bender at our local nursery and may now be going a little overboard with planting. I’m guessing that our vegetable garden is going to eclipse our front yard, and while I have a few friends who might appreciate additional plants for their garden, I may still have to stand in front of my house passing out seedlings to people walking by.


But even though the days are getting longer, the weather is getting warmer, and the official first day of spring was two days ago, Mother Nature keeps reminding me that she’s in charge and it’s only spring when she says it is. This morning, the little blue flowers in our front yard had scrunched up their faces and tucked into themselves like sullen children, and my car bore a distinct resemblance to a sno-cone. And I can’t seem to be comfortable in fewer than 3 layers of clothing, even though I’m inside of our house and it’s sunny and beautiful outside.

This spring pea soup is perfect for those of us who long for the snow to melt and the sun to shine but still have a few weeks of winter ahead of us. The curry and lemon lighten and brighten the soup while the cream comforts in cold weather. And by changing the amounts of butter and cream, or eliminating them entirely for a vegan soup, it becomes a recipe that is welcoming any time of the year.

Spring Pea Soup with Curry
adapted from my Aunt Diane and cousin Scott

2-4 tablespoons butter or olive oil
1 large yellow onion, finely chopped
2 tablespoons flour
1-2 teaspoons curry powder (I use more if it’s a delicate curry powder, less if it’s very spicy and flavorful)
1/4 teaspoon white pepper (I use black sometimes. Shhh)
1 teaspoon kosher salt
4 cups chicken stock or vegetable stock, heated, plus 1 more cup if eliminating milk or half-and-half
3 3/4 cups peas (frozen peas are fine)
1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
1 cup milk or half-and-half (optional; you can also add a little coconut milk if you’d like a creamy, vegan version!)
1/2 cup frozen spinach
1/2 cup heavy cream or creme fraîche (optional)
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon peel (optional)

1. Saute onion in butter or oil over medium heat for 5 minutes, or until onion is translucent. Add flour and curry to the onions and cook for 3 minutes, stirring constantly, until very fragrant.
2. Add pepper, salt, and chicken or vegetable stock, and bring to a boil while stirring, scraping bottom. Simmer for 5 minutes, add peas, sugar and spinach, and simmer for an additional 8 to 10 minutes.
3. Puree using a stand or immersion blender. Strain if desired (it makes the soup more smooth and refined, but I’ve definitely skipped this step with perfectly fine results), and add half and half, milk or coconut milk. Warm gently. This must not boil, or the soup will separate.
4. (Optional) Whip cream or creme fraîche and lemon rind until soft peaks form. Serve soup in heated bowls with a dollop of whipped cream or creme fraîche.

brussels sprouts


Hi.
I am having one of those days where all I want to do is lie around in my piña colada PJs and nerd out on the internet while listening to Neutral Milk Hotel. I blame the holidays. You may be having one of those days yourself right about now. In which case, I’d like to share with you my recipe for Brussels sprouts. These sprouts are magical. Whatever it is your body needs to stop feeling like blah, it is in these Brussels sprouts. There’s also a little butter in these sprouts, just enough to make them golden and cheerful in the pan. Plus some garlic. I like to put a fat mound of parm on them afterward, just because I can. And even though you have to take the time to peel the sprouts and cut them in half before you cook them, you can totally zone out for 10 minutes while you’re doing it. And you’ll look productive. People are less likely to bother you when you look productive than if you are lying around in your PJs and nerding out on the internet. And, they’ll like you more after you’ve had your sprouts and are back to your good old self.

You will need:
1 pound Brussels sprouts (try to pick ones that are no bigger than a large marble; they are the sweetest IMHO)
1/2-1 T butter
1/2-1 T olive oil (this helps extend the butter and keep it from burning, but no big deal if you want to use one fat v. another)
1 shallot, minced
3 garlic cloves, minced
1/4-1/3 cup homemade or low-sodium chicken broth
salt
grated parmesan cheese (optional, but recommended)

Equipment: wide skillet with a lid, or a skillet and a cookie sheet

Wash the Brussels sprouts, then trim the bottoms, cut them in half and peel away any funky outer leaves (pitch any that look like they have little grey bugs inside). Heat the butter and oil in a heavy-bottomed skillet large enough to hold the sprouts in a single layer. Let the butter begin to brown a little, then add the sprouts. Set the heat at medium-high, stirring the spouts and turning them every so often so that they color evenly. When they are a bright, dark green and have some golden spots, scootch them around so that there’s a clear spot in the center of the pan. Drizzle a little olive oil in this spot, then add the shallots and garlic to the oil, stirring until they are translucent. Stir the whole shebang a few times, add the chicken broth and a pinch of salt, reduce heat to low, and cover with a lid or cookie sheet. Cook for 5-10 minutes, until the sprouts are tender and most of the liquid has been absorbed. Transfer to a bowl, top with the parmesan, and serve hot.

Note: it looks like there’s sage on those sprouts in the photo, doesn’t it? That’s because there is. This is an anomaly, as it’s not something I usually do, but go ahead and throw some sage in with the garlic and shallots if you have it on hand.

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