Planting Cabbages

snowball method of salt, delicious delusions, plus all saint's day

october 28^th - all saint’s day, nov 1, approacheth.

“salt day” in japan is january 11. but that is somewhat off-topic.

 

as i see it, my task is to distill research and serve a palatable, entertaining, balanced, and just-right-salted broth. 

 

or a snowball that hits you right between the eyes.

 

either is good.

 

it all comes down to an assignment and how to circle and yet at the zero

 

hour burst out of the office, my hair in dissarray

 

(ok, my hair is always in a quandry) shouting eureka!

 

 

todays blog is heavily under the

 

influence of salt and how it

 

permeates history, both in the

 

mediterranean and in the

 

caribbean.

 

now that i have nicely

 

procrastinated finishing up my

 

greenwood entry on the dutch caribbean i have to post this darn

 

montrosity and get back to work. if you don't mind. :)

 

so i warn you, follow this path of salt to find healing women, lore and

 

tales, and flamingoes in your wake.

 

and bien sur, at the end i hope to still your cravings and lure

 

you with salty unctuous bites of crunch and spice. 

 

we are salt. our blood, sweat, and our tears.

 

salt is not just a little shaker on your table. or a cellar of divine crystals

 

for your fingers to rub. though it does have connections with divinity. in

 

the beginning someone turned into a pillar of salt on a somewhat

 

unfortunate day in ancient lands.

are you a salt-eater?  

 

while researching bonaire and their history of salt farming i discovered

an interesting bit of information regarding caribbean lore about witches

and salt – and with our favorite (well, at least, my most favorite) holiday

upon us – halloween and all saint’s day – close at hand. well, here are

enough superstitions to whet your appetite. 

salty superstitions by rochelle moore in her book; aromatherapy &

 

herbalism

 

~ for every grain of salt that spills accidentally a single tear shall be shed

 

unless you scatter a pinch over your left shoulder

~ tossing a pinch of spilt salt is the antidote of ill luck raised

~ if you have a curse or hex on you by a gypsy then once they leave your

 

home throw a pinch of salt in their direction to nullify the curse

 

~never offer another diner a salt cellar that is open ....help me to salt,

 

help me to sorrow

~you can tell a girl is a virgin if she forgets to put salt onto the table

oh gosh, now i am in trouble.

in mark kurlansky’s book of salt he regales us with stories of salt’s

 

history, importance, even how it was used as currency. and what impact

 

procuring, trading, finding and harvesting salt has had on the world.

 

piqued, i picked up diane ackerman’s nhots (a natural history of the

 

senses) again to see what she had to say about salt.

 

i didn’t start out craving salt.

 

as a young girl in reading, pa. i always preferred sweets.

 

not five minutes after nana pushed a nickel in my palm for digging up

 

weeds with a screwdriver, i was filling my paper bag at the corner store

 

with penny candy. mary janes, fireballs, necco wafers, and maybe

 

chocolate, but certainly black licorice twists. 

 

my sweet tooth has changed – lengthened – matured- okay i am older.

 

now i not only crave licorice, but salty licorice.

 

the bad news is after rereading ackerman's nhots i considered whether i

 

had addison’s disease. ackerman (who by now i was envisioning that she

 

was my friend because of this salty licorice thing we had going) mentions

 

that those who have the disease ~a deficiency of the adrenal glands~

 

crave salt and so crave eating and so self-medicating, by eating large

 

amounts of licorice which has glasorisic acid, which contributes to sodium

 

retention.

 

so, big deal. i love licorice. the salty kind that holland is famous for.

 

rather than seek medical attention i decided to research this, uh, grain of

 

salt.   

 

this dutch/salt connection lit my blog bright light.

 

pennsylvania dutch.

 

dutch caribbean.

 

licorice.

 

little girl.

 

salt.

 

trade.

 

slave stories.

 

salt poems.

 

and, women healers

 

brought me back to the gates of city of ladies.

 

to fulfill her quest, eleone, must cross the land

 

of salt in the camargue.

 

(believe randy ingermanson calls this the snowflake method of writing, i

 

just call it the snowball, you know when things just start rolling on their

 

own.)

 

the body seems to crave what it needs in order to heal.

 

from a review of the history of salt – mark kurlansky

the largest inland “lake of salt” in the camargue is the etang de vaccares.

the harvesting takes place in the summer, when the water is evaporating

from being flooded all winter long. the salt accumulates in these large

crystal piles of sea salt called camelles. salt is the prime “product” in the

camargue. despite the lovely pink flamingoes.

 

flamingoes who, as it turns out, also live and feed in bonaire's salt pans.

no, not the roasting pans.

ballad of canga brown by eric roach, in the flowering rock, 1955

what give canga brown that power?

he don’t eat no salt nor sugar,

his flesh like ibo yam

his blood clean, like clean rain water.

in the encyclopedia of the african

diaspora: origins, experiences, and

culture. edited by carole boyce

davies – she discusses the legend

of slaves sprinkling salt about so

the witch could not slip back into

his or her skin once they had

returned from a night of trouble

making.

no wonder, i wondered ~ why the slaves who harvested salt on bonaire might have felt a bit hampered by their environment. 

n’est c’est pas?

more salt lore of today’s discourse

 

 

“grimm remarks that salt is not found in witches' kitchens, or at devils'

 

feasts, because the roman catholic church has taken upon herself the

 

hallowing and dedication of this substance. moreover, inasmuch as

 

christians recognize salt as a wholesome and essential article of diet, it

 

seems plausible enough that they should regard it as unsuitable for the

 

use of devils and witches, two classes of beings with whom they have no

 

particular sympathy. hence perhaps the familiar saying that "the devil

 

loveth no salt in his meat."”

earl lovelace begins his novel “salt” with the tale of a “flying african with

two corncobs under his arms.” the belief was that salt impedes their spirit

and ties them down to the land.

but perhaps like meredith gadsby expounds in her book, "sucking salt":

caribbean women writers, migration and survival – salt had to be sucked

to survive. which sounds to me, at least at first glance, that women have

had to do just the opposite, walk the opposite direction from what they

are told to do. 

take the opposite path. walk through salt land to build a spirit; strong

and impenetrable.

 

fleur de sel camargue is used on the table, but bonaire salt is what we

 

commonly know as rock salt. it is not used for culinary purposes.

 

reading list for today:

 

earl lovelace – salt, 1997 

 

larissa lai - salt fish girl, 2002 

 

toni cade bambera – the salt eater’s 1980 fable-like tale addresses the

 

healing power of salt and one woman’s attempt to heal, both herself and

 

her town. langston hughes society award

 

edouard glissant – black salt, 1999 two decades of glissant’s poetry

 

nalo hopkinson – the salt roads 2004 – a veritable plethora of just about

 

all things fantastic and wise-funny.

 

lorna mcdaniel – the big drum ritual of carriecou: praisesong for rememory

 

of flight – culture bearers offer that salt can hinder flight. no salt tainted

 

offerings to ancestors, river and sea orisas.

 

diane ackerman  quotes from a natural history of the senses -

 

"salt cravers have saltier saliva."

 

"salt is the only rock we seem to enjoy, but that’s because we are small

 

marine environments on the move."

 

todays’ recipes

 

accras de morue

 

fritters of spices and salt cod, so delicious you’ll be transported to the

 

ancient streets of your choice. recipe from the now defunct gourmet

 

magazine but i have revised it to more resemble the hot little amuse

 

bouche sold in arles’ market. teresa and i would snack on a little bag of

 

these as we eavesdropped on ladies buying pigs ears. no, not pastries,

 

the real thing.

 

 

1/2 pound skinless boneless salt cod, cut into 2-inch pieces and rinsed

 

1 cup all-purpose flour

 

1/4 cup milk

 

1 large egg

 

3/4 teaspoon double-acting baking powder

 

2 garlic cloves, minced

 

½ tsp. each cumin and coriander seed, toasted and ground

 

1/4 teaspoon dried thyme, crumbled

 

a 4-inch-long fresh hot red or green chili, seeded and minced (wear rubber gloves)

 

3 scallions, chopped fine

 

vegetable oil for deep-frying

 

in a large bowl let the salt cod soak in enough cold water to cover it by 3

 

inches, changing the water several times, for at least 8 hours or

 

overnight. drain the salt cod well in a sieve and in a food processor purée

 

it. add the flour, the milk, the egg, the baking powder, the ground cumin,

 

coriander, thyme, and the garlic and blend the mixture well. transfer the

 

mixture to a bowl and stir in the chili and the scallions. in a deep fryer or

 

large deep skillet heat 1 1/2 inches of the oil to 360°f. on a deep-fat

 

thermometer and in it fry teaspoons of the mixture in batches, stirring

 

and turning them occasionally, for 1 to 2 minutes, or until they are golden

 

and cooked through. transfer the fritters as they are fried with a slotted

 

spoon to paper towels to drain. they are best served immediately and

 

warm. alternately the fritters may be made 2 days in advance, if you

 

persist in doing things ahead of time, after frying them, cover and chill

 

them sufficiently. reheat the fritters on a rack in a shallow roasting pan in

 

a preheated 450°f. oven for 5 minutes. no more!

 

 

fricot d’barques - the rhone "bark" pilots favorite dish - and mine too

 

a bark was a type of smallish barge that hauled goods and other necessary encumberances up (or down, i suppose) the rhone river.

i recently taught this dish at kitchenware outfitters in savannah, georgia.

 

huge merci to damon fowler. chef erick vedel’s recipe from arles differs

 

from the fricot d’barques recipe in clifford wright’s book a mediterranean

 

feast in that it contains lots of onions, capers, and bay leaves chopped

 

right in the mix. this inspired my version of quickly into the pot boneless

 

well-marbled beef chuck instead of taking an arlesian hour to thinly slice

 

the beef round.

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

 

2 pounds boneless beef chuck ribs

 

2 cups red wine, cote du rhone preferred

 

1 cup beef stock

 

1 pound onions, chopped

 

6 bay leaves, chopped

 

1 cup fresh parsley, chopped

 

3 tablespoons capers, chopped

 

1 tin anchovies, smashed

 

6 cloves garlic, minced 

for this recipe you will need a wide 3 qt. le creuset style pot, or baring

 

none something heavy bottomed, deep, and with a punctual well-fitting

 

lid.

chop your onions, bay leaves, parsley, and capers. mince your garlic.

 

smash your anchovies and combine with the onion mixture.

over medium high heat, heat the pan till hot. drizzle with the olive oil.

 

lay in your beef and sear well on both sides. remove to a platter and

 

deglaze the pan with the red wine. when reduced by half and the browned

 

bits have been scraped up, add in the beef stock, then onion mixture and

 

nestle in the beef again. bring to a boil over medium heat, then reduce

 

heat to very low and simmer for the better part of 3 hours, checking at

 

that point – you may need as much as an extra 45 minutes.

serve with crusty bread, boiled or mashed potatoes or one of chef vedel's

 

favorites, couscous.

warm autumn salad of caramelized cabbage and walnuts

follows a creamed gorgonzola pasta or a grilled pork rubbed

with smoked paprika and cumin.

 

alright, since its feasting season, perhaps cabbage can follow both.

 

our aracona hens, their feet clatcheting and scratcheting on the stone, race across the stretch of patio outside my window

 

to escape the plunk of acorns on their red combed heads and the only conclusion they can muster: the sky is falling.

 

from my writing desk inside the house i spy the edge of pumpkins and pots of sunset burgundy mums sitting on the steps of c’est si bon!

 

in this time of year i am drawn to think and thank.

 

bread, and food, for their sacred qualities offered in not only consuming them, but in preparing them.

 

in the garden my husband, rich, the ever plucky gardener of the cooking school has been hard at work replenishing the rows. The rows where tomatoes, peppers, butternut squash, and though he swore at the flea beetles that threatened otherwise, where eggplant grew.

 

fall has come to north carolina

 

 

now in those rows red swiss chard grows side by side with summer’s green chard. we don’t know why the green chard is still growing strong, but it is. southern collards, mustard and turnip greens. celery is a new thought (and vegetable!) in the cooking school garden.

 

in the rustic salad department there is burnett, mizuna, arugula (this arugula, like the green chard, is a stalwart contradiction. still growing from italian seeds brought from and planted four years ago) and the batavia lettuce seeds from provence.

 

and of course the garden would not be complete without cabbage, since planting cabbages is the notion upon which this blog was founded, this fall couer de boeuf des vertus is “a pre-1856, french bull-heart type cabbage with tall pointed green heads that are early and quite tender. a great market variety.”

 

 

if i could bend your ear (on that head of cabbage) for just a moment to explain how cabbage – this plain ordinary common budget minded vegetable – came to represent my blog about the research of writing, bread making, traveling, culinary history and cooking. oh, and gardening and teaching.

 

 

for one thing ~ cabbage has a lot of leaves.

 

and many ways to be prepared.

 

what is your favorite cabbage dish?

 

shredded and raw tossed with a pungent mustard vinaigrette.

 

in warmish salad as our dish du jour.

 

as a child, my husband, whose mother is polish, would make a dish from her childhood and for economies sake because with four children (she was compelled) to saute the blondegreen leaves in butter with onions and caraway seeds then toss with bowtie pasta. they loved it.

 

cabbage's long history includes being kindly fermented in various guises (sauerkraut and kimchi, what's not to love?)

 

then too the whole head can be blanched; leaves separated and stuffed with savory mushrooms and browned meats, garlic and served with a capered tomato sauce. i

 

and lastly i write in my new work-in-progress (the sequel to city of ladies) about a whole head of cabbage poached thusly as above.

 

but then its leaves are carefully and delicately peeled back, as far down to the heart as possible without tearing them, then stuffed, the leaves folded to cover the farci. cossetted in a gossamer cheesecloth, lowered and braised in rich chicken broth to be served a' table, carved as if a delectable roast beast.

 

but cabbage is my hero for yet another reason too. it seems a fairly long time ago now but when i read the essays of michel de montaigne one of quotes caught my eye.

 

“let death find me planting cabbages”

 

it struck a chord deep and so familiar.

 

for the meaning not only encumbered dirt and planting and cabbages.

 

that was heady enough, but to me was only the outer leaves.

 

the heart of his words meant that if you are working, i.e. planting, digging, rooting around then you were living life. and if death came scouting about looking for trouble (or me) well, it would have to tear me away from my work.

 

harvest time is upon us, whether for cabbages or work, and with it comes thoughts of past harvests and trips. one of those was to italy.

 

and here’s where we return to bread thoughts.

 

recently I learned about the history of bread cupboard traditions.

 

 

in parts of rural italy, bread cupboards figure into each family’s history.

anne robichaud, who lives near assisi and gives lectures and tours, 

talks about how she acquired her cupboard.

and since we are speaking about bread, planting cabbages, and new seasons and thanks and harvesting i must thank my dear friend, susan, a pastry chef and old world style baker extraordinaire who for years lived with the most marvelous antique parisian bakers rack made by the wrought iron makers "prefit et fils." I understand she acquired it in washington dc from a French man who had been hired by Disney to bake French breads. the first time rich and I went to have dinner with her and her husband i sat in adoration of it in their dining room. last summer she heard me speaking about looking for one.

a french colleague, francois, who deals in antiques and who has an apartment outside parisin st german en llaye said it would be hard (if not nigh impossible) to find one even in the paris flea market. Even if one could be found i should expect to pay a handsome sum. i believe he said ten thousand.

well, my ears (and my purse made of a sow’s ear) closed.

since then the idea of owning an authentic Parisian bakers rack had been lovingly cushioned in straw, the top of the wooden box nailed shut and placed in the dining car of the famed orient express, set off to wander exotic locales, tasting the most exquisite conversations and peeking out the window to look for home.  

and though I don’t know who else will come into its life, or how long it might remain, but for now i am happy to report the bakers rack happily welcomes you to c’est si bon!

 

dish du jour:

warm autumn salad of caramelized cabbage and walnuts

is sweet and nutty and superbly follows a creamed gorgonzola pasta or a grilled pork rubbed with smoked paprika and cumin.

 

 

as i said earlier ~ since its feasting season, perhaps both.

 

serves 8

 

3 cups shredded red or green cabbage, about 1 medium head

1 red onion, sliced thin

2 carrots

2 tart apples, such as terry winter or winesap

1 orange zested and juiced

4 tablespoons vinegar

1/2 cup olive oil

dijon mustard

salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

1/2 cup chopped walnuts

 

begin with the cabbage and onion, slicing thinly.

 

over medium heat in a heavy skillet, and without any oil whatsoever, toast the chopped walnuts till they are fragrant and lovely. remove to a small bowl to cool and set aside.

 

then, please add in the olive oil and when hot add the cabbage and onions and caramelize till a gorgeous nutty goldeness. this can take 30 minutes, not to rush. otherwise burning may occur and such nasty burning is not necessary.

 

while warm, place in a large shallow serving bowl.

 

peel, quarter, and core the apples, then slice thinly.

 

scrape or peel the carrots then shred either in the food processor or by hand with a box grater. add to the bowl with the warm cabbage and onions, add in the zest and juice of the orange.

 

make the dressing in a separate bowl. whisk the salt and freshly cracked black pepper into the vinegar. stream in the olive oil.

pour dressing over slaw and toss well. add the chopped walnuts, serve immediately.

 

 

poke weed, acorn, and mushroom foraging and the occasional pilfering

my character does what she has to in order to survive. and thus my

 

friends, my interest in wild foods was born. it peaked when researching

 

the likely sustenance to be found while on a walking journey in 16^th

 

century gascony, languedoc and provence in the colder months of

 

november and december.

 

 

the answer became, it depends.

 

on the weather.

on the year.

and on knowledge.

 

i was drawn to the gascon landscape when i first went in 1995. it struck me as familiar, perhaps as i had grown up in the rolling hills of pennsylvania dutch country.

 

gascony,for centuries it has been fertile provider of fruits such as pruneaux, apples, pears, even kiwi. cherries, peaches – the list goes on and on.

 

so it seemed like a good place to go for a walk in the fall, a pilgrimage, even if it wasn’t a leisurely stroll.

 

but if you can’t take off to peruse french fields or sit under a tree full of ripe figs – what to do?

 

with a little preplanned education and guidance both spring and fall wherever you are more than likely provides amble nourishing opportunity to scout about in the “wild” and obtain edibles. edibles that are satisfying to collect and relatively easy to prepare.

 

some years, even being a gardener is like foraging. 

 

surviving on wild food for a year is fergus in england. his last post was in september so we are anxiously waiting to see if he does…

 

the mother earth news is a long time stand-by go to magazine, commodity, and now web-site chock-full of advice by experts still out in the field and forests and seasides and slopes. many of my generation may fondly picture the naturalist, euell gibbons, chewing on sticks and brambles and who once upon a time did the grape nut commercials on tv. so it should come as no surprise that he is still around and kicking up the dirt and finding glorious edibles.

 

 

here is their take on a few common and not so comestibles that you might well find in your area.

 

we do indeed have poke weed (from which comes that poke sallat tribute in the song by) in spring, poke weed is surprisingly edible when it is young and tender. but do not pick (or eat) when it has gotten larger as it is toxic. there are perhaps farmers near you who sell it, and you might request to help pick it. another possibility if you are so industriously inclined is to pick it and sell it yourself. this apparently is popular in arkansa and missouri. but i think the main desire of foraging is to provide wild food for yourself and/or your family; however yu determine to define that.

 

even, yes, acorns after a bit of work are edible

 

mushrooms – the fungus amongus

 

duke mycology expert rytas vilgalys

 

join the mycological society of america

 

mushroom books

 

edible wild mushrooms of north america – a field to kitchen guide

by david w. fischer and alan e. bessette

 

the mushroom book – how to identify, gather, and cook wild mushroom and other fungi

 

by thomas laessoe, anna del conte, gary lincoff

 

this edition has nice hearty recipes from stuffed parasol caps, hedgehog bundles (in phyllo pastry), and baked mushroom polenta and even for truffles which if you should find some please write immediately so we can adequately discuss what to do. dorette at cest si bon dot net.

 

win a wild crafting contest and a prize of the book “survive” by les stroud the creator, producer, and host of the hit television program, survivorman.

 

"he transfers his decades of knowledge and experience to a practical guide that gives everyday readers a no-nonsense look at the real world of survival.”

 

carrboro nc local expert in gathering:

 

will’s wild herbs – over 34 years of experience and integrity.

 

will endres medicinal herbalist, wildcrafter, outdoor guide. consultations. hillsborough wild herb walk, 10/19, 5:30-7 pm, $15. wild edible/medicinal plant exploration seminars, 9-4:30 pm, every tuesday, near hillsborough, $30-$45. alternate saturdays at the durham and carrboro farmers’ markets. call will at 919.732.9785

 

 

further reading: in 2001, long before michael pollan’s the lomnivore’s dilemma – came gary paul nabhan’s book “coming home to eat.”

 

 

mr. nabhan's blog  

 

 

then come grains.

 

in france long ago foraging for emmer and eikorn, old varieties of wheat

 

but back to the table ~  

 

it’s the perfect time of year to start serving warm breakfast cakes.

 

i developed this semolina cake for breakfast in arles, inspired by erick vedel’s gateau de riz that he often would make for us, as he knew – just knew would lead to our swooning over it.

 

and as i was combing and studying a mediterranean feast by clifford a. wright. and found a recipe for asida – semolina porridge with warm orange blossom honey. teresa, i am sure you remember.

 

semolina breakfast cake

 

1 cup apple or other fruit juice

 

2 cups water

 

1 cup milk (or water if you prefer)

 

1 ½ cups semolina (yes, for those of you who remember eating cream of wheat this is that!)

 

½ teaspoon each cinnamon, ground coriander and ginger

 

2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

 

½ cup chopped fresh seasonal fruit (apples or pears in the fall) 

 

¼ cup lavender or acacia honey

 

½ cup yogurt

 

2 eggs

 

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

 

¼ cup granulated sugar for preparing the baking vessel

 

more honey for drizzling/serving.

 

please butter a 10 inch round pie plate or 9 by 7 casserole/tian/cocotte, sprinkle with granulated sugar

and set aside

 

bring the juice and 2 cups of the water to a boil in a medium size saucepot and add the semolina gradually, slowly pouring so as not to add all of it at once, otherwise lumps will prevail.

 

(does anyone remember the old bill cosby skit about lumps/vs raisins in his cream of wheat? hilarious, but i digress)

 

you must keep stirring and keep going, reduce the heat slightly, until the semolina thickens. it might take 2 minutes or as long as 5. it will be quite thick.

 

add in the cup of milk at the end – to thin a bit and cool off the porridge. stir in the fruit, the spices, the honey, the yogurt, and lastly the eggs. pour this in you prepared pan and bake for 30-40 minutes or until golden brown. let cool before slicing into wedges or squares. this is wonderful drizzled with more honey, or even more yogurt and a spoon of any confiture, just to gild the lily even more.

 

amaranth shortbread cookies with dried apricots

 

these cookies are just the thing you need now. amazing just as they are, crunchy and buttery, but dipped in melted bittersweet chocolate gives them an edge which has to be tasted to be believed. of course you may not have to go further than your own cupboard for the chocolate foraging, unless you’re up for a major adventure.

 

makes 48

 

2 cups all purpose flour

 

1/2 cup amaranth

 

1 cup boiling apple juice

 

3/4 cup brown sugar

 

1/2 cup finely chopped apricots

 

1 cup unsalted butter

 

pinch salt and a dash of vanilla

 

 

preheat the oven to 325 degrees. pour the boiling apple juice over the uncooked amaranth.  allow to absorb for at least 1 hour or even overnight.  add the sugar and cut in the butter using a pastry cutter or

two knives.  add the flour, using your hands.  keep mixing the dough, until it forms bigger and bigger lumps and holds together when pressed down.  roll the dough on a lightly floured surface.  cut into rounds using a 3" round cutter.  place on an ungreased cookie sheet and bake for about 12 minutes or until the cookies are barely golden around the edges.  let cool before optional dipping in chocolate.