Appetizers, Apples and Antics on AM Northwest

The past week has gone....I don't know where. It vaporized. I don't know about you, but I'm having trouble staying on top of things. Luckily, as I've mentioned before, my sweetie has already started the Christmas shopping.

Thanks to a gentle reminder by my thoughtful mother and father, I realized I never posted the video from last week's AM Northwest segment. So, this is for you, Mom and Dad...and anyone else who may have an interest in learning about homemade applesauce and a tantalizing appetizer all made with seasonal ingredients. And, one last note, should you decide to view the following video....after viewing it himself, my sweetie showered me with all of the appropriate accolades just like a good husband should (whether they are true or not) and then, off-handedly remarked, "Lots of sound effects going on in this one." What can I say? With the way my brain operates these days, it's a wonder I can even string a sentence together, so when I'm at a loss for the appropriate word, I fill in with sounds.


If you are unable to view the video above this line, click here to be taken directly to the website.

Hope you all have a safe and Happy Halloween!

And, hopefully you're not like me, with a mouth full of canker sores already from raiding the Halloween candy I've stashed away from the kids. Wish someone would stash it away from me!

Cheers,
Carrie

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Inspired by a Salad of Golden Yellow Beets and Brilliant Green Arugula

My appointed date in the "Blog-It Forward Mashup" has arrived at which time I am to share with the world what it is that inspires me. Thank you ever so much to the infinitely kind and talented, Victoria Smith, of the alway inspiring blog, sfgirlbybay, for organizing all 300 of us. The darling artist, Ariel, of La Petite Sirène passed the torch to me and I send it on its way to beautiful, Christine, of Lavender and Limes who will be sharing her musings with us on Monday. Thank you to all of you who have taken the time to stop by La Pomme today. I am ever so grateful.

Never straying too far from me, he sits at the kitchen table while I prepare dinner. His little hand still trying to find a good grasp on the pencil. With a blank sheet in front of him, he creates entire worlds on this humble piece of paper. World after world. Sheet after sheet. I kneel down in front of him and he shares with me where he's traveled in such a short time...and, I am inspired.

I am greeted by some morning light. A welcome respite from the grays of winter. The children are still sleeping. The house is hushed. With a hot cup of tea next to me, I flip open my laptop and click on my bookmarks. The list drops down. Across the world and back I go, as I click on my favorite "weblogs", one after another. I find myself swept away by the talent, the creativity, the inspiration. Encouraging me with their photographs, their artwork, their writing, their nuggets of knowledge. The food they prepare. The recipes they share. The stories they tell...and, I am inspired.

I watch him from afar as he nervously taps his foot and unconsciously drinks his water...every last drop of it...before the game begins. I think about what he said to me. About how, "Mom. Everyone is sitting there...in a line. Watching me." I see his coach motion to him. Time to go in. And then, there he is. On the court. All of that nervousness disappears. It's just him and the ball...moving in this beautiful rhythm up and down the court...and, I am inspired.

I set the finished book down on the forever-growing pile with a sigh. My eyelids are so heavy and yet, sleep eludes me. I think about where I've just traveled in my mind...a different place, a different time. Strangers I've come to know as neighbors. Friends. I think about what it means to truly be courageous. Not in the "conquering kingdoms" sense of the word but as one human being having compassion for another. I think about how the author has gently lead me in this direction...and, I am inspired.

I hear the announcer call out the next performance. I sit in the darkened room...waiting. I flashback to when she was 8 or 9 on-stage. When she knew all of the steps but her face wore a look of panic as she performed. The lights go up and I see her sweep across the floor and then, up into a grand jeté. I watch as her body becomes the artwork for the music. Her face, so full of emotion...and, I am inspired.

I have been dressed in grays and blacks and browns...for months. Perhaps I'm trying to coordinate with the sky. The landscape. The ground. I'm ready for some color. I need some color. So, with camera in hand, I set out to find some. And there, curled up ever so tightly, in a bud that will soon come to life, is a hint of pink. The sun, low in the sky, gently warms the tiny bud...and, I am inspired.

He's there on the stairs. Clean-shaven and ever so handsome. He flashes one of his smiles at me. My heart aches his smile is so beautiful. With a quick kiss to everyone and a "Have a great day!', he's off. Off to work...just as he does everyday. Even the days he'd rather be at home. With us. And yet, he goes. For him. For me. For us. Because he cares...and, I am inspired.

Here in the depths of winter, when there's not an open farmer's market to be found and I'm about out of ideas for meals made from canned goods and squash, a dear friend comes through town. The kind of friend who's known me so well, for so long, that we're starting to resemble each other like an old married couple. A gift she has in tow for me. Ivy Manning's, The Farm to Table Cookbook - The Art of Eating Locally. I flip through her tantalizing recipes organized by season. The helpful tips. The gorgeous photos lovingly taken by her husband. And there, in the section on winter, a flash of yellow catches my eye. That desperately needed color. Golden Beet Salad with Blue Cheese and Walnuts. My mouth waters just thinking of this melding of flavors. The creamy cheese with the spicy arugula. The sweet beets with the more pungent walnuts. A perfect winter medley...and, I am inspired.

Golden Beet Salad with Rogue River Blue Cheese and Walnuts

Inspired by Ivy Manning's recipe in The Farm to Table Cookbook

Now, I've taken the liberty to change a few of the items from the original recipe out of personal preference. After all, if a girl knows what she likes...well, she's got to go with it. I used olive oil instead of the walnut oil originally called for because it's what I had on hand. I also swapped out the balsamic vinegar for sherry vinegar out of preference and because I had some on hand from this recipe. Balsamic vinegar tends to be a little bit too syrupy for me on salads but I know that I'm probably in the minority here so do as you please. I've talked about Oregon's unbelievably delicious Rogue River Blue Cheese before here, but if you aren't able to get it where you live, any other soft blue cheese will work. Enjoy.

Ingredients:

8 to 10 ounces (1 1/4 pounds with greens) small golden beets

1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil

salt and freshly ground pepper

1/2 cup lukewarm water

2 tbsp balsamic vinegar or sherry vinegar

1/2 tsp sugar

1 tbsp finely minced shallots

3 tbsp walnut oil or olive oil

6 oz (or 4 handfuls) arugula or other baby greens

2 oz Rogue River or other soft blue cheese

1/2 cup walnuts, toasted (for the "fyi" on toasting see this post)

optional: thinly sliced red onion

Preheat the over to 400 degrees. Wash the beets well and remove the greens and stems. Place the beets in a small baking dish and toss with the olive oil, salt and pepper. Cover with foil and bake for 40 minutes or until a knife easily goes through the largest beet. Remove the dish from the oven, carefully peel back the foil, and add the water; re-cover and set aside.

Combine the vinegar, sugar and shallots in a small bowl. Gradually whisk the oil to make an emulsified dressing.

When the beets are cool enough to handle, slip off their skins with your fingers and cut them into 1/2-inch wedges. Toss them with the arugula and enough dressing to coat the salad. Divide the salad among 4 plates, sprinkle with the blue cheese and walnuts (and red onions, if you like) and serve. Mmmmmm.....

Yield: 4 salads or salad fixings just for me to savor over the course of four days....

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009-2010

Oh, Ye, Benevolent Butternut Squash Minestrone

With Herculean effort, I was dragging the bag, filled with the remnants of my vegetable garden, up the never-ending flight of stairs and muttering to myself about what a hair-brained idea of mine it had been to put the garden back there. What kept me going; however, was knowing that my dear, sweet children were in the front yard, dutifully performing their family project for that weekend - raking the leaves. I was anticipating the relief I would feel once I saw the pristine lawn and beds, all of which was to be made possible by their kindhearted effort.

(Yes, that is a spider man band-aid on my finger. Click here to learn how to peel and dice butternut squash without impaling yourself.)

As I mounted the last stair and peeked around the garage, I was met with silence. I stood there perplexed. Confused. Not a sole (or a rake) in sight. "Huh. Where did they all go?" I looked at the lawn. Better...but still a layer of leaves. The beds were still chock full of leaves and the water run-off gully was still clogged. With my load of yard debris still at my side, I could feel myself getting worked up. I heaved the bag over to the side of the garage and slammed it down. In long, heavy strides, I crossed to the front door, opened it up and yelled, "Where are you guys?" The eldest and the youngest, immediately surfaced, (already sporting slippers and warm sweaters) claiming, "We thought we were done." The 10-year old came out of his commando hiding spot about 10 minutes later, grinning but clearly, guilty. I, meanwhile, had grabbed a rake and started to forcefully rake up at least 10 more piles. Stewing. Talking to myself. Saying things like, "Why do I have to be the only one to do these things?" "What am I raising here...a bunch of royalty?" "Oh, I bet their enjoying their time in front of the TV, playing legos, reading a good book while I'm out here RAKING! In the freezing COLD!"

(In case you were wondering about my main squeeze, he was upstairs doing the laundry. We have a bit of a role reversal here in our family.)

I have found that, sometimes, I do my best parenting when I'm tired, have run out of patience and have worked myself up into a frenzy. So, in that moment of frenetic leaf raking, "The Benevolence Jar" was born.

Later that evening at our family dinner, I presented the concept behind "The Benevolence Jar". (My dear, sister can't get past the fact that I named it The Benevolence Jar and yes, maybe that was a bit over the top but still...it sounds important, distinguished.)

"Do you know what benevolence means? Anyone?" Silence. "I define benevolence as not just being kind but having the wisdom to know why you are being kind. Like last night, Daddy picked up dinner for us, served it and did all the dishes to be kind, yes, but also, because he knew I was tired. When you say, "Good Morning," to your brothers and sisters you do it to be kind, yes, but also to show that you care about them." I went on with more examples, a speech about how a family needs to operate like a team with everyone pitching in and so on and so forth. Unsure of what was to come, the kids remained silent. Then, I laid two jars on the table. One filled halfway with pennies. One empty but labeled "Benevolence."

"You three will need to work together to fill "The Benevolence Jar." You do so by performing one or more of these acts of kindness that I've put here on the list." I unrolled the single spaced list, at least three sheets long, that I had typed up upon coming inside from the leaf frenzy. "I will tape this to the refrigerator for your reference."

"Each night at dinner we will go around the table and you can toot your own horn about the kind things you have done that day in regards to our family. You're on the honor system here since I can't be watching you at every moment. Should you behave selfishly or cruelly to members of this family, well, then, a penny will come out of the benevolence jar and you will need to earn it again. Once the jar is filled, I will treat you to a trip to Skinnidip, a round of bowling, an afternoon movie or an evening of board games. Your choice. We start tomorrow." From the sparkle I detected in their eyes, I could tell that the game was on.

For the first week, pennies were going in the jar for clearing dishes, emptying backpacks and lunch boxes without complaining, remembering to say, "Good morning" or "How was your day?" to family members. The boys were the first ones to have pennies come out of the jar, one for teasing, one for biting. I packed up those jars and hauled them with us to Central Oregon where we spent a glorious, snowy Thanksgiving week with Nana and Papa. Have benevolence, will travel.

As the days went by, I began to notice a difference in their behavior. Instead of busting past his little brother to get to the sink first for hand-washing, the 10-year old consciously slowed down and let his brother go first. I found them asking more and more often, "Is there anything else I can do?" "Mom, can I clear your dishes?" Of course, there were times when the whole process was a bit questionable, such as when the 12-year old, in teen-speak, says to the teary, 4-year old, "Hey, I'm sorry I said "Chilladelphia" to you, but you are waaaaay past spicy." To which he replies, "I just don't want to hear that." To which, I comment, "Thank you for using your words to tell your sister that instead of screaming." And, the competitive, 10-year old, focused on filling the jar, perks up, saying, "Penny in the jar?"

Back at home, the eve before returning to school/work, I put down bowls of Butternut Squash Minestrone (aka: Old Mother Hubbard Went to the Cupboard and These Were the Ingredients She Found) and some warm, cheddar biscuits. Six pennies were left to be put in "The Benevolence Jar." At this point, however, they were pros and they ticked them right off with things like, "Not only helping us load and pack the car for coming home without complaining but asking us what else you could do to help even when that meant taking out the garbage." "For waiting and allowing your sister to climb into the back of the car first instead of busting your way in and making her climb over you." And the last penny, went in for the littlest one, "For not acting goofy when sitting on Santa's lap. Nicely talking to him about your list and explaining the pictures you drew. Remembering to tell him "Thank You" when you were done."

As with anything, I'm sure the novelty will wear off, but I can enjoy it for now, can't I? And, perhaps, if I can get one last, "job well-done" family rake project under my belt, it will all be worth it.

When we were done eating, the 10-year old dumped the pennies out of "The Benevolence Jar" and back to their starting position. He then, flipped a penny back into the jar, and skipped off toward the kitchen sink, hollering, "Cleared my dishes without complaining." And so, we begin again.

Oh, Ye, Benevolent Butternut Squash Minestrone

As I'm sure you can relate, I returned home after a week of being gone, to rather bare cupboards. Not in the mood to head out to the grocery store, I decided to evaluate what I had on hand. The rather, phallic, butternut squash that had been sitting on the counter for weeks immediately cried out to me as if it was equipped with an alarm. And, so, I built this soup dish around him. Not having any bread on hand either, I pulled out this old biscuit recipe from the recipe box and threw in a handful of minced chives from the chives in my yard who have clearly not read the memo stating that winter is almost here and it's time to stop growing. Enjoy.

2 tbsp olive oil

1 leek, white and light green parts, chopped

1 med onion, chopped

1 1/2 c carrots, about 3, diced

2 celery stalks, diced

1 1/2 c butternut squash, diced (dice up and freeze your remaining squash for future recipes)

4 sprigs of thyme

2 tbsp fresh sage, chopped

1 bay leaf

1/2 tsp salt

1/4 tsp black pepper

2 qt chicken broth

2 med white boiling potatoes, cubed

1 15-oz can of cannellini beans, drained and rinsed

1/2 cup orzo pasta

freshly, grated parmesan cheese

Heat your olive oil in a large soup pot. Add your leek, onion, carrots and celery and saute about 10 minutes, until your onions are transluscent. Add your butternut squash, thyme, sage, bay leaf, salt and pepper and potatoes to the pot. Pour in your chicken stock, cover and bring to a boil. With your lid askew, simmer for about 30-40 minutes or until your veggies are soft. Add the beans and the pasta. At a high simmer, cook for another 10 minutes, or until pasta is cooked through. If you plan to let your soup simmer on the stove for longer than 40 minutes, do not add your beans and pasta until closer to when you plan to serve your soup.

Ladle into shallow bowls and serve with the parmesan cheese and salt and pepper. Add a basket of warm biscuits and some sliced, apples or pears and dinner is served.

Yield: A big "pot-full." Enough for a family of 5 with leftovers to pop into thermoses the next day for lunch away from home.

Cheddar Cheese Biscuits

1 1/2 c white flour

1 1/2 c whole, wheat pastry flour

1 1/2 tbsp baking powder

1 tbsp sugar

2 1/4 tsp salt

2 1/2 c heavy cream

1 cup grated, sharp cheddar cheese

2 tbsp minced chives (optional)

3 tbsp butter

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Combine flour, baking powder, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Add cream, cheese and chives and stir gently with a wooden spoon, mixing just until dough holds together.

Turn dough out onto a lightly floured work surface. Knead once or twice, just enough to incorporate cream and cheese into flour mixture. Handle dough as little as possible, or biscuits will not rise.

Roll out dough about 1" thick on a lightly floured work surface. Cut with a 1 3/4" biscuit cutter or a champagne flute. Place biscuits about 2" apart on ungreased cookie sheets, then set aside for 10 minutes. Allowing dough to rest at this stage will produce taller, lighter biscuits. (Biscuits, once cut, may be frozen.)

Melt butter in a small skillet over low heat, then cool slightly. (Or pop in the microwave for about 20 seconds.) Brush biscuit tops with butter. Bake until golden brown, about 20 minutes. Serve warm from the oven.

Biscuits are best eaten immediately, but can be reheated for 5-10 minutes in a 300 degree oven. Frozen biscuits may be baked without thawing. Bake in a preheated 300 degree oven for 20 minutes, then increase heat to 350 degrees and bake for 5 more minutes.

Yield: about 40 biscuits. I have "halved" this recipe with great success.

All original text and photos copyright: Carrie Minns 2009

Pizza à la Julie

Apparently, there is a bobcat a-foot in our neighborhood. He's reportedly been seen sunning himself on the side of the road, peeking through the rails of back decks and even, chasing a female runner up one of the wooded trails. While he's not easy to spot due to his coloring, the telltale sign that he's around is the frenzied chirping from the birds in his locale. Here is a picture I snapped of his cousin on a recent trip to the Oregon Zoo. He looks none too happy to be in here while his blood relative is out fancy-footin’ it in the wild.

My evening had started out as one of pure bliss. Two dear friends of mine and I had sipped a beautiful, “citrusy” pinot gris and munched on crisp red peppers dipped in a hummus – truly one of the smoothest, most flavorful that I have ever had – which the hostess had picked up at the Beaverton Farmer’s Market. The children were off playing in the bowels of the house and we were left alone to chat away. Kids’ activities. Teachers. Books we’ve recently read. Books the kids have recently read. The meaning of life. And, while we chatted, the heady aroma of onions being caramelized swirled around us.

As we were deep in conversation about the meaning of life – a topic “to be continued” – the hostess laid down before us what she calls her version of pizza. I could barely contain myself when I saw what befell me. Thick slices of Heirloom tomatoes covered with the caramelized onions, Herbes de Provence, chopped pecans and crumbled blue cheese. I inhaled each tomato “pizza” with such quickness that I bordered on being quite rude. I simply couldn’t help myself. Each bite was heavenly.

Growing up, my siblings and I were regaled with the legend of the Hide-Behind Monster. Supposedly, one can never see the Hide-Behind monster. No matter which direction or how quickly you turn your head, he is always behind you. And, he’s a tricky little monster in that he doesn’t show up in mirrors. You always know he’s around when you hear the crack of a tree branch and the “hoot” of an owl. And so, throughout my childhood, I always carried with me the feeling that someone was behind me. I would dart up dark stairwells as quickly as possible. Upon reaching the top, I would promptly twist around trying to catch a glimpse of whoever was there but nobody ever was.

Our exquisite platter of “pizza” was long-gone, the sky was dark and the children were getting sleepy. I reluctantly packed up my little tribe, headed home and continued to marvel over tonight’s dinner. We had received notice earlier in the week that our street was to be “slurried” the following day - which meant nothing to me except that I wanted to start singing, “Surry with the Fringe on Top” - and all cars would need to be off the street by 8am. As I’ve told you before about my “morning-challenged-self,” I knew that I would need to take care of the car that very night. I decided to drop the children off at home with my sweetie and then park the car on the next street over. There is a little trail that connects our two streets. In the daylight hours, it is perhaps a 5-minute walk through the woods.

I parked the car, alongside others with the same idea, and then, headed down the trail armed with a flashlight that beamed a quarter-size circle of light. Now, let me explain that this trail goes straight down a flight of stairs and crosses a little creek before it goes straight back up another flight of stairs. All was going well. I was still talking to myself about the pizza, humming Rogers and Hammerstein show tunes and shining my little pin of light. But, as I went down, down, down…down into the darkness. Down into the bank of ferns that somehow seemed to be growing taller than I. And, down the trail that at this point, I could barely make out, I became aware that the darkness was literally swallowing me up. Pressing on me. Suffocating me. I was alone in the complete and utter pitch black. I started to take deep breaths, switched to whistling “Whenever I feel afraid…,” and pulled out my cell phone hoping to gain a little more light by shining it on the ground as well. And then, I had the feeling that someone or something was behind me. Just sure I was about to be attacked, I flipped around as quickly as possible. Heard a crack of a tree branch. The frantic chirping of birds. An owl. My heart started racing. I started to panic. Hyperventilating even. I picked up my pace, ran across the bridge and started to fly up the stairs on the other side. I was on the verge of screaming, “Help!”, convinced that the bobcat, a person, or the Hide-Behind monster was about to grab me, when my feet lost their footing on the gravel stairs. I slipped and “down, down, down, I fell.” Hard.

Stunned, with a throbbing elbow and skinned knees, I laid there. The light from my neighbor’s front porch was shining on me through the ferns. I prayed to the Lord above that neither she nor anyone in her family had been peering out in this direction the minute before. I shook my head, slowly stood up and chastised myself. “Look at you. A grown woman. You really need to get over it. The Hide-Behind monster does not exist!” I methodically climbed the final stairs, turned the key in my front door and went into my sleeping house...absolutely mortified.

As for the bobcat, who knows?

Pizza à la Julie

2 tbls olive oil

1 tbls butter

1 large or 2 medium, onion(s), thinly, sliced – Walla Walla or Hermiston Sweets, if you can find them. Regular, yellow onions if you can’t

3-4 large heirloom tomatoes, sliced ½ inch thick

½ cup crumbled, blue cheese – such as Rogue River Blue

1/3 cup chopped, roasted pecans

1 tsp of Herbes de Provence or 1 tbls of a variety of chopped, fresh herbs such as basil, thyme, oregano and a pinch of rosemary

optional: salt & pepper, to taste

Begin by prepping your onion(s) to be sliced. Peel. Cut off the end(s). Then, heat/melt your olive oil and butter in a large, skillet over medium heat. Thinly slice your onion(s). Add them to your heated fat, stir them around to coat them in the mixture and then, turn your heat down to low. You can at this point add a pinch of salt and pepper but I usually just let the oil/butter work their magic with the sugars in the onion. Now, don’t be frugal with your onion(s). Trust me. It’s better to have more than you can ever imagine because they will cook down. Way down. Keep your heat on med-low to low and stir the onions from time to time. After about 20 minutes they will become translucent and take on an amber color. Take care not to let them brown too quickly or burn which will give them a bitter taste.

While the onions are caramelizing, you can sip wine and chat with friends slice your tomatoes and lay them out on a platter. Next, crumble up your blue cheese and have it ready. And, if I may, I’d like to suggest Rogue River Blue Cheese. This year’s wheels have just been released into stores and Rogue River Blue has the distinct honor of not only being made here in Southern Oregon but being known as the “Best Blue Cheese in the World” due to the numerous awards bestowed upon it over the years. I'm not sure how the Roqueforts feel about that, but let's go with it.

I was recently enlightened to the fact that, while pecans are available year-round, those pecans harvested in the fall are the sweetest and most moist. So, get thee to a store now and gather up some fresh pecans. You can choose to roast them the traditional way - 350 degrees, single layer on a cookie sheet, roast 5 minutes, stir, roast another 4-5 minutes OR you can do a little trick I learned for roasting all kinds of nuts when you’re short on time. Just pop them in the microwave for about a minute. Not quite the same, but it’ll do. Chop them up and set them aside. If you’re choosing to use fresh herbs, chop them up and set them aside also.

By now, your onions should be done. Put a “forkful” of them, and their delicious syrup, on each tomato slice. Next, sprinkle the blue cheese over the onions, then the pecans and finally the herbs and optional, salt and pepper. Serve them up to your friends and watch them swoon.

I do, in fact, serve these “pizzas” to my children and they inhale them. One difference, though, is that I put the blue cheese and nuts on the side and let the children decide if they want a more "purest" type of pizza or if they want to load up on all the goods.

Yield: About 12 “pizzas”

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009

Rainy Day Vegetable Soup

After years of cajoling, pleading, begging and badgering by my children...I finally planted the oft-promised vegetable garden. Of course, once the hoopla surrounding the choosing of the vegetables and the planting of the seeds was over, I was left alone to tend to my little plot. (Just as I'm sure would happen if I ever cave to the cries of, "When can we have a puppy?" Just me, the full grown dog, his hair and his, well, his "business" to pick up.) All that aside, I am thoroughly happy to tend to my garden. There is something quite gratifying about seeing those little green shoots poke their way up out of my plot's blank canvas. Even more satisfying is skipping back into the kitchen with a bowl full of my very own lettuce for that evening's salad. Lettuce I didn't have to pay for. Lettuce I didn't have to use the car to acquire. Lettuce that I know hasn't been sprayed with anything other than water. And, never mind about the little holes throughout the leaves, I'm happy to share my harvest with a few nighttime critters.

My little "potager" was ticking right along. The lettuce season was drawing to a close as the weather heated up. I was looking forward to my summer produce. Luscious tomatoes, crisp cucumbers and loads of zucchini I'd have to leave on doorsteps of neighbors in the middle of the night because I wouldn't know what to do with it all. And then, dear friend, as I'm sure you can sympathize...a water leak. One of those household maintenance projects that comes at you out of nowhere and scoots itself right to the top of the To Do list and strong arms everything else aside. There sat my precious garden. Right beneath the culprit of the leak...horrors! Over the course of the next few weeks, I watched as my tomato plants bravely stretched out their arms, baring their little yellow flowers and green globes. The zucchini put out its cheery orange blossoms and the cucumber plant decided to climb out and over the side. The beans bailed on the trellis and instead, scampered all over the ground. Meanwhile, a hailstorm of sawdust and debris tumbled down onto my little plants. Men on ladders were climbing up and over them. Mother Nature decided to heat up Portland to an unheard of 106 degrees. (Or 110, or 115 depending on whom you speak with and how much they like to embellish.) Their branches were broken. Their green leaves appeared to be covered with snow. And yet, even at the worst of it, when I could hardly bear to watch, I'd peak out from behind the curtain and somehow they were still there. Growing. Thriving.

I'm happy to report that I reaped my first harvest. Not much I'll admit but still...it's something. I popped the first 5 cherry tomatoes right into my mouth...well, after I gave them a good brushing off. Didn't share nary a one. I wasn't sure what to expect considering that their growing environment had been less than ideal. Ummmm. Sweet. Luscious. Juicy. And, the best part of homegrown tomatoes right off the vine...they were still warm from the sun.

As often happens here in Portland, even in the summer, our warm, morning sun was quickly blotted out by rain clouds, the temperature dropped and what should have been a day full of sprinklers and peals of laughter, became a day that sent everyone indoors, putting on jammies, wool socks and pining away for a nice, fall soup. Usually, I don't make this soup until autumn when the kids are back in school and apples are in season but considering that I had fresh, green beans at my beckon call and the weather had taken a turn...I went ahead. Plus, being a prolific soup maker, I had finally used the gift card my parents had bestowed upon me two years ago for Christmas to buy a brand new soup pot and I was dying to give it a whirl. So, there I stood, happy as a clam, cutting up my onions, green beans, zucchini and carrots while I sipped on a glass of scott paul pinot noir, cuvée Martha Pirrie, in honor of my dear father-in-law (or as the French say and I much prefer, my “beau-pére”) who passed away a year ago this day. I had his favorite Herb Alpert & the Tijuana Brass song, A Taste of Honey, playing in the background and I contentedly found myself lost in my remembrances of him and surrounded by the warm, swirling smells of sautéed onions.

I set down steaming bowls of my vegetable soup, a plate of Ayers Creek Farm blackberries and yellow peaches, sliced ciabatta bread and remnants of cheese pieces I found in the fridge - goat, brie, a hunk of cheddar - on the worn kitchen table. Within minutes, my children had licked their platters clean and we were nourished and fulfilled by our humble meal. We talked about Grandad. His smile. His quiet laugh. His humming. His love for his grandkids. And, as my sweetie put it, his gratitude for seemingly small things. So, please, if you will, dear friend, raise a glass for Grandad, his genuine gratitude and the pleasure of the harvest no matter how small. No matter how dusty.

Rainy Day Vegetable Soup - Summer Version

Ingredients:

1 tbls olive oil or a couple laps around the pot with the olive oil jug

2 med yellow onions

2 garlic cloves

1 cup carrots, diced

1 cup celery, diced

1 cup green beans, chopped into 1" pieces

2 medium zucchini, diced

2 tsp Herbes de Provence OR 6 sprigs fresh thyme & 2 bay leaves

2 qts chicken broth OR 2 qts vegetable broth for a vegetarian version

1 28-oz can diced tomatoes

1 15-oz can cannellini beans OR any other any other can of white beans you have lying around

2 medium, red- or white-skinned potatoes, cubed

A handful of small pasta - alphabet, orzo, broken spaghetti pieces, etc.

1 tsp salt & 1/2 tsp ground pepper or to taste

Piece of parmesan cheese rind, optional

Pistou, optional:

1 cup fresh basil leaves

2 garlic cloves

1/4 cup grated, parmesan cheese

1/8 to 1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

1/8 cup tomato paste, optional

Directions:

Before you begin, dear friend, please gather up for yourself a glass of your favorite sipping beverage, whether it be the aforementioned pinot noir or a simple cup of mint tea. (Sometimes my choice is tied directly to the noise level in our home.) Put on your favorite, calming, mood music and then, find yourself lost in the repetitive motion of your VERY SHARP knife slicing through the bounty.

Put your pot over low to medium heat to warm-up. Prep your onions to be diced. Swirl the olive oil in your pot and then, dice your onions. I find that doing these tasks in this order results in the perfect timing for heating and dicing. Now, if the thought of dicing an onion makes you literally flee the kitchen, please treat yourself to this 1 minute video How to Chop an Onion or most likely, any other you find on youtube of the same subject. I learned this technique years ago and it has made all the difference. You can apply the same principles to your other dicing needs as well.

Put your diced onion into your pot over medium-low heat. You want your onion to soften and become translucent with just a hint of caramel color but you don't want it to brown or burn. I find that this step, done correctly, is the secret to all delicious soups calling for onion. Stir occasionally. Check your heat to make sure your onions are not browning too quickly.

While your onion is sautéing, dice up your garlic, carrots and celery. Once they are prepped, pour them all into the pot, give them a stir and continue chopping your zucchini and green beans. Put them into the pot. Add the spices or fresh herbs, salt and pepper. Stir. Chop up your potato. At this point, your onions, celery and carrots should be softened and your green beans and zucchini, warmed. Pour your chicken stock and tomatoes into the pot, drop in the optional piece of parmesan cheese rind and bring it all to a boil. Once boiling, add your potatoes, bring back to a boil, then reduce heat and let simmer 20-25 minutes.

While your soup is simmering, you can decide to make the pistou or skip it. I always base my decision on how much time I have, how much energy I have remaining from my daily allotment and whether or not I have any fresh basil laying around. A nice grating of parmesan cheese over this soup does just as nicely as the pistou.

On this day, I decided to make the pistou which is just a fancy way of saying I made a type of paste that you dollop on top of your finished vegetable soup for added flavor dimension. Not having a mortal and pestle, I chopped up the basil and garlic. Then, I took the backside of a serving spoon and mashed up the two ingredients on my cutting board. I added the grated cheese to the pile and continued mashing. Then I just drizzled the olive oil on top. Stirred it all together until it was pasty and had everyone serve themselves the pistou straight from the cutting board. Why dirty another dish?

By this time, the "stomach-growling inducing" aroma filled the kitchen. I washed my blackberries. Sliced my peaches. Pulled some cheese out of the fridge to warm-up to room temperature. My buzzer went off. I added the cannellini beans and the handful of pasta and set the timer for another 10 minutes. By the time my buzzer went off again, I had laid out the bread, cheese, fruit and finagled one of the children innocently passing by the kitchen to pour a round of water for everyone. Before you knew it, we were sitting down to our meal and toasting Grandad.

Now, as with all things worth waiting for - wine, women, types of cheese, soups - this soup is delicious the first day but even better the next day and the next. As the soup ages, flavors co-mingle to give it a certain depth and complexity it lacks when it's so young. So, enjoy it for dinner tonight but appreciate the soup's deeper flavors the following days.

PS: Fish out that cheese rind after the initial cooking. I find that when left in the soup for subsequent days, the cheese flavor over-powers all of the other ingredients and therefore, tuns vegetable soup into a rather disturbing-looking cheese soup. And while you're fishing, you may want to grab the bay leaves and thyme stems. You wouldn't want to accidentally choke those down.

Yield: Enough for a family of 5, plus leftovers for lunch the next day.

Originally written: August 12, 2009

All original text and photographs copyright: Carrie Minns 2009