There are many times when I feel like we’re on the same page here. Maybe we chat about the change of seasons, or really good chocolate, or a book I’m reading that you’ve also heard of. Maybe we talk about summer travel plans, or cherry blossom trees, or how to balance work and life in a relatively sane way. But I have a hunch that we’re not on the same page with what I want to talk about here today. I’m willing to guess that, for most of you, you’re far beyond me on this one. It’s true: unbeknownst to me, I’ve been left terribly behind. This thing I speak of? Gardening. Or the backyard in general. Really, let’s be honest: I’m talking about plain and simple yard work.
For most of my adult life, I’ve lived in city apartments. Whether it was in downtown Boston, little-bit more suburban Brookline, San Francisco, or Denver, I haven’t had much space to stretch out my gardening limbs and give it a go. Here in Seattle, we have a pretty sizeable backyard and outside of all the major grocery stores and nurseries, there are edible plant sales, gardening tools and wheelbarrows on display. Clearly, it’s time to stock up! Well, as I soon discovered, this is easier said than done. I decided to check out the nursery on a random weekday last week so I wouldn’t be fighting the super efficient, clog-wearing, slightly intimidating weekend gardening crowd. I got a cup of coffee on the way, the sun was out — I was feeling good. This feeling lasted all of 9.2 seconds until I stepped into the nursery and realized I had no idea what to buy. No clue. I started taking photos of tools and sending them to my mom: Is this what people use to weed things?
Instead of texting back, she called immediately. Were you not paying attention all those years I was outside in the yard? Apparently not. It became clear to us both pretty quickly that it wasn’t so much that I didn’t know anything about gardening, I didn’t know much about the yard. Period. Soil baffled me. Compost confused me. I ended up buying a hoe, a lopper (my new favorite word), a watering can, some potting soil, a trowel (basically a hand shovel, for all you city non-gardening folks), some grass seed, and a big shovel. I was set. I came home and got to work, putting on my old Converse and pouring a big glass of fizzy water to take out to the yard with me. I was going to whip it into shape, surely, in a matter of hours with all of these great tools. Well it turns out it takes much longer than a few hours. It turns out it can be kind of lonely, discouraging work (I’m going to try music next time. And much more fizzy water. Maybe a cookie or two as well). When I put a few hours into something, whether it be writing, baking, running–whatever, it’s nice to see something in return. I don’t feel like this whole new world I’ve entered into is keeping up its end of the bargain. The Yard Waste bin fills up too fast, I notice some weeds missing for sure, but our yard looks pretty much the same.
But, hey. Our lawn is mowed, I’ve planted herbs and they’re sitting on top of this great outdoor table I found at Goodwill for $9.25. That’s the start right there, yes? We have big plans to build some raised beds in the next two weeks and I really want to grow kale and carrots (do carrots grow here? Anyone? Anyone?). I’ve reserved a few gardening books at the library and am trying not to get prematurely discouraged by talks of zones, perennial-ness, and rain cycles. It’s a whole new world, for sure. I’m trying my very hardest to put my conquer-it-in-one-day, first child mentality aside here and think of this more like a marathon than a sprint. This one’s going to take awhile. Our yard might not look like our neighbor’s yard for quite some time. If you’re one of the many friends planning a visit this summer, you may want to bring your hiking boots to navigate your way around back there. Or at the very least, maybe bring your trowel and I’ll put you to work.
I wish I could tell you that I used our own herbs for this recipe, but I didn’t. Although I’m most confident in a few weeks time, I’ll be able to. This recipe I’m sharing with you today is a fantastic lunch recipe. I popped it in the oven around noon the other day, made Heidi’s Tuscan Kale Salad, heated up some bread and we had a pretty fine lunch for a Wednesday. This is the first recipe I’ve made from An Everlasting Meal and I’m eager to try a few more (the Thai-fried rice is up next, I’m thinking). I’ve mentioned Tamar Adler’s book here before; her recipes are more narrative than prescriptive and rely on a more intuitive, stress-less approach to cooking. She encourages using up what you have laying around the kitchen and teaching yourself around the kitchen by doing and relying on what you already know. Trusting yourself more. So this recipe is appropriate for today as it’s very much in the spirit of the backyard project: we’re working with what we’ve got, and learning as we go. Much easier when fueled with hot, herbed cheese, I guarantee you.
For this recipe, I added more herbs than Tamar Adler calls for and decided to throw in a handful of capers at the very end. Serve with big hunks of bread and salad. Or use as a dip with your favorite crackers or chip
Adapted from: An Everlasting Meal
Heat the oven to 425 F.
Mix all the ingredients together in a medium bowl. Add salt until it tastes a little less seasoned than you’d like: A lot of water will evaporate when this bakes, so you don’t want to over season it ahead of time. Spread the mixture into a 9-inch pie plate and bake it in the middle of the oven for 35-38 minutes. The top will develop a toasted brown skin and inflate slightly and then deflate when you take it out.
Serve warm with crusty bread and salad. It’s also great served cold or room temperature and will keep, if covered and refrigerated, for a good 2 days after it’s made.
On Monday our little family of three is headed to the airport at 6 am to board our first with-baby cross-country trip. We'll be visiting Sam's family in New Jersey for a few days, then renting a car and driving over to meet up with my family at my mom's lake house in the Adirondacks. Sam's younger sister and her kids have yet to meet Oliver; my grandpa has yet to meet him, and Oliver has yet to take a dunk in a lake, see a firefly, or spend quality time with energetic dogs -- of which there will be three. A lot of firsts. This week my family has been madly texting, volunteering to make certain meals or sweets on assigned days while we're at the cabin and it got me thinking about really simple, effortless summer desserts -- in particular, ones that you can make while staying in a house with an unfamiliar kitchen and unfamiliar equipment and still do a pretty bang-up job. I think fruit crisp is just that thing.
This past week we've had quite a heat wave in Seattle. I've been getting into the bakery early in the mornings so as to avoid the afternoon heat + hot oven combination, and it turns out the upstairs of our new house is quite a little hot box. I bought some aggressive blinds and a new fan and am hoping both will help cool things down a bit. The wool blanket is in the linen closet for the season, and Sam's been making iced tea like it's his job. Summer has arrived! A few nights ago, the thought of actually doing much real cooking seemed a bit overwhelming, so I figured it was time to dig out the ice cream maker and get to work. I'd wanted to do something with the beautiful strawberries we have in the markets right now, but it seems every time I get a little pint it's gone before I have the chance. They are just so incredibly sweet, and it seems a shame to do anything other than eat them right out of the container, preferably while sitting on the Moroccan picnic blanket you brought back from honeymoon on the lawn in your new backyard trying not to stress out about the incredible, insurmountable number of weeds. So. Many. Weeds. But cherries: somehow the bag of cherries made it safely through the weekend, so I set about to find a great cherry ice cream recipe.
When you have an eight month old baby, making social plans can be hard. Especially in the evenings. When I was pregnant, I read Bringing up Bebe and one of the big premises of the book is how the French feel strongly that babies and children can fit into your lives and that you shouldn't have to change and alter everything to accommodate them. I remember reading the book and thinking: YES! Life will be just as it was, except we'll have a small baby in tow. Obviously a few things would likely be different, but I didn't want to change our routines, change the way we cooked or approached time off together, or see our friends any less. Well of course I'm the fool. Or at the very least, I'm not as French as I thought I was. Today, we very much schedule things around Oliver's nap schedule and bedtime, but thankfully we have a lot of other friends with kids who get it. Friends who make homemade cookies, own ice cream businesses, and have really great taste in music. Friends who host the kind of occasion that warrants homemade hot fudge sauce and eating dessert first.
We're back! After a restful few days in Lake George, I ended up flying home while Sam spent a little time with his family in New Jersey and a few days in New York City by himself before taking the train all the way back to Seattle (a solid four day journey). If you know Sam, this isn't surprising; he loves trains. When he's gone, I quickly revert back to my single gal days of eating veggie quesadillas for dinner (over and over) and staying up working later than I'd like. We would talk on the phone often as Sam would narrate his very full days in New York City and the stops and layovers he had while on the train. After a few days of me lamenting the fact that I wasn't there to experience it all with him, he encouraged me to ditch the quesadillas and do something special for dinner. See a movie. Go to the museum for just an hour. In short: I needed to get better at dating myself.
I received The Sprouted Kitchen Bowl + Spoon cookbook in the mail not long before we moved to our new house, and I remember lying in bed and bookmarking pages I was excited to try but also feeling overwhelmed with where to start: the truth is that this summer has been a relatively low-inspiration / low energy time in the kitchen for me. I'd been chalking it up to pregnancy but when I think back and if I'm honest with myself, my cooking style tends to be very easy and produce-driven during these warmer months. I rarely break out complicated recipes, instead relying on fresh tomatoes and corn or zucchini and homemade pesto to guide me. But last night I cracked open Sara's book and pulled out a few peaches I've had sitting on the counter, fearing their season may be nearing its end. This morning as I was making coffee, I sliced up the peaches, toasted the pecans and churned away -- having a bite (or maybe two) before getting it into the freezer to firm up.