Overheard Today (Burlington, VT)

1.   Walking from Church St. towards the waterfront. The view is amazing and L is inspired.

• L: I want to be an adventurer when I grow up, that makes cookies and travels all over the world. And sings along the way. And people will give me lots of money for singing.

• G: Why wait? You could do that now. Mom won't mind. She'll probably think that's cute.

2.   We are eating bagels for breakfast. G bites into hers and a glob of cream cheese drops onto the table. M is across the table, neatly eating his without mishap.

• G: Oh no! My bagel pooped 
• M: (laughing) Mine is potty trained! 

• All of us are now laughing hysterically.

• G: (laughing, then stops and looks at me) You're going to put this on Facebook, aren't you?

3.   While sipping hot drinks outside, we watched a small group of protesters walk down Church St. among the holiday shoppers. They bore signs about "Occupy Wall St", corporate influence on our government, financial inequality, etc. and were chanting something.

G asked me what was going on.

• Me: Well, it's complicated, but you know how I talk about large corporations and politics and the importance of buying local? That's kind of what is going on. 
• G: OK, but how does the homeless guy fit in? 
• Me: What do you mean? 
• G: Those guys are mad about other people having too much money, right? Well the homeless guy over there just asked them for money and they ignored him. Isn't that the same thing? 
• Me: No, it's not really the same thing honey. It's more complicated than that.
• G: Whatever Mom. No offense, but grown ups always make things complicated. I'm gonna give the homeless guy a dollar. He looks cold.

Sleeping In on a Snowy Day

Glittery, soft and thick.

From my vantage point, snuggled deep under down comforters, I can see that last night's snowfall has covered everything in a carpet of white, hiding the gardens not yet put to bed, the pumpkins still left from Halloween and the black plastic pots I left by the drive in the spring. My cat, stark black against the white, is sitting on the step by the front door, watching his newly transformed domain with yellow eyes.

Everything is silent...or almost silent. Cars travel slowly, their tires muffled against the snow and sand on the road. The voices in the village that carry down the street in the summer are no more than tones on the wind this morning. The town plow truck, rumbling with power, whooshes through, spraying wet snow to the sides.

In a few hours, my children will arrive- laughing, jumping, shouting, talking - the sounds are comforting, welcome even, in a house that echoes with quiet when they are gone. Their boots will break trails around the house and my carpet at the back door will be covered in snow. Toys and books will be scattered every which way - joyful chaos. I will coax a hot fire from our wood stove and we will read together on the couch, eating hot popcorn and drinking warm cider. We will talk about their week at school and what they did at their dad's. We will call California and chat with my family. We will snuggle.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving and there are lists to write, pies to make, eggrolls to stuff and custards to set. My not-quite-clean house will be less clean than usual and I will turn a blind eye for the sake of my good humor and sanity.

In the meantime though, I will lay here a bit longer, warm and sleepy, writing for no other reason than to express my gratitude for cold snow and hot fires, noisy children and messy houses. It's a good life.

Pies for People, Soup for Supper - One door closes...

Hardwick, VT, November 15, 2011 -With just hours left before our first of two bake nights for our annual Pies for People/Soup for Supper event, I find myself with a rare and quiet hour to reflect. Not on recipes, nor logistics or even hunger, but to reflect on kitchens.

Since its inception in 2009, when Julia Shipley organized the first pie bake, the kitchen at Sterling College, with its u-shaped counter sitting squarely beneath the hanging pot racks, has welcomed a cadre of volunteers to roll dough, simmer soup and bake pies. The ancient stoves and ovens never failed to fire up, every imaginable pot and gadget was within arm’s reach and we blasted the music from the beat up speakers that sat high above the stainless steel sinks. This year, sadly, is our last year to bake in this wonderful little kitchen on the Common.

Read the rest of my post on the Center for an Agricultural Economy's blog.

Spring, Summer and Dinner

Rain, wind...sun?

Right now, this particular transition from spring to summer, seems unusually swift and forceful. Buckets of rain, tornado warnings and flooding is occasionally punctuated by periods of humid heat and blissful sunny days. Everything feels delayed and I continue to hear about the hardships many farmers are facing with flooding, fields too muddy to work in and moist conditions that raise concerns of pests and disease.

That said, some things continue to persist, even thrive. Purple and white wild violets compete for their time in the sun among the thick patches of ever green and ever growing grass. The blossoms on the lilacs, choke cherries and crab apples are prolific and fragrant. My patch of rhubarb is ripening and chives are topped with tight buds of blossoms. The black flies are numerous and hungry.

In spite of the challenges, A few farm stands and most Farmers' Markets opened this weekend with the typical abundance of vegetable and flower starts but also cool weather crops of spinach, bok choi and swiss chard. The greenhouses have given birth to european cucumbers, cherry tomatoes, herbs and mesclun. Fresh cheeses, maple syrup, pullet eggs, crusty bread, frozen meat and spring sausages round out the offerings, making it possible to leave the markets with all the makings of a week's worth of meals.

Spring, with its unpredictable weather patterns, is still here and summer will come eventually, but in the meantime, I feed myself, family and friends.

• Pan-fried trout; wilted, garlicky swiss chard; savory rosemary bread pudding
• Simple, roasted chicken thighs topped with rhubarb chutney; creamy polenta
• Linguini with spicy sausage, olives, herbs, chives, cherry tomatoes and parmesan; mesclun in balsamic vinaigrette; maple sweetened ricotta with wafers
• Chevre and chive souffle; barley, cucumber and cherry tomato salad; spring onion soup
• Tacos of black beans and chevre topped with sweet chard-cilantro slaw and pickled red onions
• Homemade paneer with lentils; chicken masala; basmati rice; naan
• Bibimbap with leftover meats, fried egg and bok choi; miso soup

What's For Dinner - Part II

It's April and I've had my fill of roots, tubers and winter squash. I am craving the smell of dirt, the sight of leafy greens, the feel of crunchy textures and the taste of ripe fruit and herbs.

Alas, this time of year, fresh food is still pretty scarce for someone who tries to eat seasonally and locally. The last two weeks, I've tried to balance my craving for fresh food with my increased need for calories (yay for running and cycling!) and keep it affordable, balanced, kid-friendly and in season.

Last fall's frozen pork, beans, cheese, preserved and lacto-fermented foods from last summer have dominated my menus. I've tried to mix it up with some greens here and there, finding that some of our local folks have harvests of the leggy, but pretty miner's lettuce, baby spinach and baby kale, not to mention the wonderfully crunchy, fresh pop of sprouts - sunflower, radish and pea. Yum!

• Black bean, chevre and swiss chard tacos w/ sofrito (made with last summers' cilantro, chilies, parsley)
• Yellow split pea soup with local ham and topped with cheddar. Fresh baked bread and cold hard cider.
• Lacinato kale and white bean soup. Key is lots of onions and garlic and don't skimp on the salt.
• Cheese Souffle. It's not as scary as it sounds. I use Fanny Farmer's recipe for Sturdy Souffle and pair it with spinach salad dressed with dried cranberries, walnuts, apples and balsamic vinaigrette. It's a snap. And really tasty too.
• Red wine risotto with wild mushrooms, tomatoes (frozen from last summer), fresh parsley and shaved aged, sheeps cheese. Inspired by one i had at Burlington's Church & Main. For the kids, I make it with veggie broth instead of wine and let them pick out the mushrooms if they don't want them.
• Baked local ham with mustard, cream and maple syrup. Serve with roasted carrots, potatoes, fresh parsley and lots of butter.
• Crepes of ham (yay for leftovers!), apples and cheddar cheese.
• French lentils topped with sauteed kale, bacon, fresh pickled red onions and blue cheese. Add a fresh farm egg, fried sunny side up in bacon fat with a glass of chewy red wine and you've got my favorite meal by the wood stove on a rainy, spring evening.
• Kimchi and pita chips. Don't ask. It's an addiction.
• Mix of whole wheat and white penne served with 3 hour meat sauce and bechamel (white sauce), layered side by side and topped with radish sprouts and aged sheep cheese.
• Take out Indian food. Rutland. A one time thing, but still thinking about it. A lot.
• Grilled, 3 cheese sandwiches with herb pesto or sliced apples.
• My version of bibimbap. Chewy, fried, sweet tofu marinated in maple syrup-soy-ginger and served with steamed rice, barely cooked red cabbage, carrots, spring onions and kale. Topped with kimchi, of course!

As I type this, I just noticed the thin, bright wisps of chives in my herb bed poking up above the brown grass. I'm thinking snipped, fresh bits on a warm roll with chevre.

Happy spring!

Letting Go...of the Pie

Autumnfest. A celebration of autumn, harvest, community and food.

The words heave dread into my belly even as my eldest excitedly jumps around, waving a piece of green paper pulled from the bottom of her backpack and explaining how she signed up to make apple pie. Surely, that can't be good.

It's 7:30pm on a Sunday night and the children are checking their bags and gear while I watch and occasionally question the crumpled bits of paper, no wait...homework, pulled out of pockets or comment on the half eaten sandwiches. I'm completely taken off guard by the sudden enthusiasm and squealing coming from my 10 year old.

As G gives me a rapid fire account about pies, food drives and contests, I peruse the wordy document that is essentially telling me that this concoction is due two days from now. There are some complicated rules about the massive dessert being homemade with no parental help and points being awarded, but I ignore this. G has never made a pie, so obviously I am going to need to help. At this point, I can only focus on two things: the kitchen calendar that has the next four days blocked out solid with hastily scribbled shorthand and the realization that I may not have time for a shower let alone make a pie or figure out how to bake it in an oven that is as moody and temperamental as my well meaning, but overbooked "tween".

Are you feeling my stress yet?

So, doing what I do best, I begin the process of shutting it all down. I carefully, quietly, but without any hesitation begin to list the reasons why I do not have time to make the pie. G becomes very quiet herself. Trouble is brewing, but still being very new to having a 10 year old (she was just 9 a few months ago!) who has taken the Kelly Clarkson song "Little Miss Independent" more literally than I would wish, I miss the subtle signs.

I keep talking, reiterating how busy we are this week with my heavy work load and their heavy school/soccer load. I can hear myself talking more quickly, more loudly, even a bit hysterically as I begin to psych myself out in front my three kids who are shuffling their feet and wondering why I keep babbling about dirty laundry, tours, grants and yoga. G takes a step toward me, with a look of barely contained exasperation.

"Mom. Mom! Can you just stop talking for a minute? I've got to tell you something."

I don't hear her because I am still muttering, but this time about schedules and showering and my youth slipping by.

"Mom. Did you read the rules? I HAVE to make the pie by myself. You CAN'T help me."

That caught my attention.


"What do you mean, I CAN'T help you? You've never made a pie before and believe it or not, turning ten years old does not make you suddenly able to snap a pie out."

I can feel her infamous stink eye burning a hole in my back as I stomp into the kitchen to see whether I have the apples we'll need to turn out the pie. I ignore the feeling of guilt because frankly, I won't have time to stop in the store if I won't have time for a shower. Frankly, it will be a miracle if I can find the time to dress myself in the morning or eat a meal, so frankly, we better have the apples if there is any hope of getting this pie made in time.

"Mom," G has followed me into the kitchen. "I can scramble my own eggs, make pancakes, cut anything with your big knife and I always clean up after myself. I think I can turn out a pie." Now it's G's turn to stomp off.

Damn. I blew it. I'm pretty sure I heard a quaver in her voice and with that I realize what an ass I'm being. I pull in a deep breath, mentally kick myself for my reaction and seek her out in the back room where she has pulled out a book by the fire while the youngest two have dutifully started brushing their teeth during my previous rant.

I try to hug her stiff, resentful body, squelching the sad feeling I get when she puts me off like that and gamely, apologetically, ask her if we can break the pie making up into two nights: prepping crust the first night, cutting apples and baking the second. The task feels more do-able like that, but I still dread finding the time and energy to push what will surely be a cranky, tired kid with the best of intentions but with only so much reserve. G immediately softens, hugs me back and bounces into the kitchen to look up a recipe. I follow, shoo her back into the bathroom because no matter what, it is bedtime and promise that we'll find the perfect recipe tomorrow.

I head back into the kitchen then, picking up dishes as I scoot my slippered feet toward the sink and all at once, I realize it's going to be OK. I need to let it go, get it done and get the hell out of my head. I feel a weight drop and my neck relax. I prep a cup of tea.

Although I don't know it yet, it turns out that I will find the time to get to the store to pick up a bag of apples. I will find that the enthusiasm of my well intentioned (and tired!) child really can carry her through two pie making sessions in spite of her very long, very full days. I will find that I have to let go of my idea of pie and let her create her own, even when I feel like she is overworking the dough. I will find that the same child can not only make a beautiful crust and learn to peel an apple, but then inspire her younger siblings to do the same. I will find that in spite of being too hard on myself and on my daughter, she'll not only forgive me and love me, she will not let it deter her from her own inspirations.

I also find that I have time not just for one shower, but two.

What's for Dinner?

I'm a dork. I write menus most weeks, jawing about how with three kids it is an attempt to be organized. Given that "organization" is ripe for interpretation, I will concede that it's because I like to do things like menus...and to-do lists...and trip itinerarys...and, well, you get the picture.

The last few months, I've been enjoying an amazing array of food from the Sterling College gardens as part of their first CSA.The last couple of weeks, knowing that the shares of vegetables are coming to an end soon, I've been working hard to use every last bit of food in creative and tasty ways. My meat, eggs and cheese come from local farmers/producers and pantry staples are purchased from my local grocer or general store.

Here are a few things I've done or will be doing.

Last two weeks:

• Spicy Blueberry and Vegetable Chili-delicata squash, potatoes, carrots, onions, garlic, fresh toms, canned toms, spices and BLUEBERRIES! Yes folks, it was really good and I wish it had been my idea.

• Miso soup with lots of veggies-THINLY sliced delicata squash and carrots simmered in a vegetable broth with onions. Miso added after simmering is done.

• Roasted Roots, dressed with cider/garlic/oil vin., fresh herbs from the garden and sea salt/cracked pepper

• Cilantro Cabbage Root Veggie Slaw in a maple/cider vinegar dressing

• Chantilly Potatoes w/ Hardy Greens, Cream, Nutmeg and Goat Cheese

• Korean-Style Lettuce and Chicken Wraps of shredded carrots, onions, garlic, ginger, sweet peppers, herbs 

• BLT with garlic aioli -I ate a lot of these.

• Pasta with Fresh Tomato Sauce and herbs. Topped with Coomersdale cheese from Bonnieview Farm.

• Potato Leek Soup-So flippin' easy. Kids love it with a slice of toasted cheesy sourdough bread.

• Veggie Burritos -Cabbage makes a great bulk vegetable for this. Thanks Buffalo Mt. Co-op Cafe for the idea!

This week:

Sunday: Warm French Lentil Salad with Escarole and Sauteed veggies of onions, fennel & swiss chard. Topped with goat cheese rounds.

Monday: Black Beans, pickled red onions on yellow rice and served with sauteed kale and roasted pork.


Thursday: Butternut Squash Barley Risotto with caramelized leeks and blue cheese.

Friday: Roasted Chicken, roasted beets and vegetable chowder (potatoes, onions, carrots, kohlrabi, leeks, garlic, cream, fresh herbs)

Saturday: Creamy polenta with sauteed or roasted as-of-yet-unknown veggies

More Meal Ideas:

• Chocolate Beet Tea Cake-beets keep the cake oh-so-moist
• Butternut Squash Soup with Coconut Milk-Top with cilantro, basil and mint
• Maple-glazed Pennies From Heaven-Carrot "coins" lightly steamed and glazed in maple, butter and cinnamon
• Braised Cabbage with caraway and a splash of cider vinegar
• Flash fried Escarole with caramelized leeks over creamy polenta and drizzled with a balsamic reduction

Leftover/Preservation Ideas:

Veggie Stock- I throw the "tops" and "tails" of prepped vegetables (including head lettuce!) and herbs into a stock pot. Add enough water to cover, a generous pinch of salt and simmer for a while. Cool, bag and freeze.

Potato Bread-Throw leftover mashed potatoes into any yeast dough. Johanna Laggis (Laggis Bros. Dairy in Hardwick) gave me the idea and she makes fantastic, yummy bread. Have made pretzels and slicing bread so far. Yum!

Freeze Leeks and Onions-Chop and bag and freeze. Works great in soups.

Herb "pesto"-chop one or a combination of herbs in a processor and thin with oil. Bag and freeze.

Frozen Greens-Hardy greens like beet tops, kale, swiss chard, etc. freeze well when steamed and frozen.

Frozen Tomatoes-Whole tomatoes thrown in the freezer. To use, run under hot tap water to remove skins. Chop and add to soups, sauce or make into an easy pizza sauce by simmering chopped tomatoes with garlic, oregano, splash of red wine and salt.

Do you CSA? I do!

For the past 16 weeks, I have been very fortunate to be part of an exclusive, possibly limited edition, Community Supported Agriculture program (CSA) via Sterling College here in Craftsbury, Vermont.

Having started and managed a CSA for a local farmer a few years ago, I find the model to be a mutually beneficial relationship between consumer and farm. Yes, it has some challenges (a person can only cook/eat/store kohlrabi so many ways before being brought to tears), but it is more often an economical way to bring local food to local people while directly investing in the farming community. Beyond the practical, it also creates a valuable personal connection between consumers and farmers that industrialized farming has come close to obliterating.

Now, as I climb off my soapbox, you may be surprised to know that this is the first year I was on the consuming end of a CSA. Yes, you read that right. After leaving the farm, I grew much of my own food and was fortunate to run a small cafe before moving on to managing Sterling College's kitchen, both times bringing my farm connections with me and eating locally grown vegetables to my heart's content. Then, a year ago, I left Sterling College and began my position as the Program Director for a small agriculturally based non-profit, but it meant hanging out in an office, not a kitchen, and no longer having easy access to vegetables. I still had a garden, but now it was sorely neglected because of my inattention. Although I continued to pull food from the havoc of weeds, I heavily supplemented with regular trips to my local farmers' markets and stands.

Deciding that I just couldn't bring myself to put in another garden only to lose it to weeds by late July, I made the (almost) painful decision to forgo the garden beyond a bed of herbs. Looking to my local CSA options as a way to fill my summer produce needs, I found that Riverside Farm, Pete's Greens and a few of the smaller farms in the area gave me plenty to choose from at a range of prices. As I hemmed and hawed over my options, Corie Pierce, the garden manger for Sterling College, dropped the news. Sterling College was going do its first CSA. To say I was excited is an understatement. The idea is that the CSA would give real life farm-to-consumer experience to the summer agriculture students, but because education is the main focus, the CSA could take only 9 or 10 subscribers. As a supporter of local food, local agriculture and the education of young people in the joys of both (not to mention I have a soft spot for Sterling College), I jumped at the opportunity.

And what an opportunity! The first week, as I looked at the table set up in the foyer of Dunbar Hall, heavy with the weight of greens, cucumbers, herbs, and more, I breathed a sigh of relief. The students did a phenomenal job. A blackboard leaned against the wall, listing what to take and how much. A stack that contained the beautifully written newsletter with recipe ideas and thoughtful musings, sat on a corner of the table and a student, in muck boots, sat with a tub of water, scrubbing...something...clean for what I later learned, was bound for the college's kitchen. As I chatted with the student and gathered up my share, my head was spinning with ideas for dinner that night, not to mention the rest of the week. I made a mental note to bring an extra bag for the next week and loading up the car, I headed home to cook. With joy and appreciation.

one pan, one plate, one fork

Dinner tonight was good. I like simple food. I like local, seasonal ingredients.

I am not turned on by complicated recipes or lots of ingredients or fancy technique. I want to be stunned, practically into silence, by taste, texture, fragrance, color.

I turn my nose at the watery, sickly looking yokes of industrial eggs. The beige pallor of cellophane-wrapped chicken breasts dispels any hunger. Yellow-orange cheddar makes me cringe and melons in January are not worth a glance.

On the other hand, give me seasonal, local food and I go out of my way to savor it. The bright orange of a "happy egg" finds me looking for that perfectly green plate to serve it on. The buttery shade and velvet body of the cream i use for my coffee makes me pause every single morning, while it swirls and blooms in dark liquid. The fragrance of slow-cooked pork from a local, family farm has me dreaming of 2nd, 3rd and 4th renditions so as to utilize every last bit.

I want my beer to bite back, my bread to be a contradiction of textures - chewy crust and tender crumb, my sweet peppers fragrant and bright, my beets bleeding dark red on my butcher block. Tomatoes should live up to their nickname "love apple" and my cheese should educate me in the mysteries of chemical change.

All of this brings me to dinner. Tonight, I made myself Toad-in-the-Hole, a dish reintroduced to me by a Sterling College student who moonlighted as a breakfast cook twice a week. My youngest daughter discovered it while eating at a great diner in Montecito, CA and asks for it often. On occasion, i find myself eating alone, but wanting to experience well prepared food with quality ingredients. Tonight is one such night.

My rendition of Toad-in-the-Hole is a bit more grown up that most, using staples i always have on hand - good bread, good eggs, good cheese and seasonal veggies.

So, without further comment or chatter, the recipe.

E's Toad-n-the-Hole with Brassicas:

Serves Two

1/4 cup chopped onion
2 cups of hardy greens/brassicas (i used broccoli leaves, beet greens, kale, chard, adolescent spinach, broccoli blooms, etc)
1 T oil (sunflower or olive)
sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 T of quality, unsalted butter
2 thick slices of Elmore Mt Bread, Country French
2 eggs, preferably from happy, un-confined, grazing hens (i used Pa Pa Doodles)
3 T finely grated Blythdale Farm Gruyere
2 T finely grated Cabot Clothbound Cheddar from Jasper Hill

a medium sized frying pan and a beautiful plate

Heat the pan over medium high heat. Add oil. When oil just begins to shimmer, but before it smokes, add onion and saute until fragrant.

Add brassicas and quickly coat. Salt and pepper to taste. Saute until just wilted. Remove from pan and mound on beautiful plate.

Take bread slices and cut a hole in the middle with a biscuit cutter, knife, what-have-you. Set removed bread aside and lightly butter.

Using same pan from above, melt leftover butter over medium heat. Add bread slices and lightly grill for 1 to 2 minutes. Reduce heat to medium low. Crack eggs in the holes and sprinkle on half the cheese. Fry for another 2 minutes or until whites begin to solidify.

Gently flip egg/bread to cook the other side. In the meantime, sprinkle a pinch of cheese on the bread cutouts and grill lightly, cheese side down, sprinkling the up side with another pinch of cheese. Flip and finish grilling.

When egg is done to desired consistency (i recommend easy to easy medium), flip onto the bed of brassicas, sprinkle with more cheese and ground black pepper. Top with the cheesy bread cut outs.

Enjoy with a hoppy beer or a glass of dry white wine.

Berries Bring Change

It's a beautiful spring day, cool enough for long sleeves but sunny enough to warm the skin.

I've been standing at the kitchen window, washing dishes and watching my neighbor, The Farmer, harrow up what was once a grassy hill behind my property. The sun is low in the sky, casting a golden light over everything. The engine of the large green tractor is drowned out by the sound of hot water running from the faucet, filling my basin with frothy foam.

In a few days, The Farmer will plant hundreds of blueberry bushes and rhubarb plants, taking advantage of the southern exposure and well drained loam. The "sticks" will settle in, letting roots feel their way through the soil, grabbing hold. Then, as the snow falls, the bare branches will poke through their blanket, reminding us that no longer can we sled the hill, yelling our war cries while we spin and swoop downward to the bottom.

In a few years, the view from behind my house will be that of blueberry bushes in full bloom, waiting for the insects to pollinate and turn the flowers into luscious berries. Then those berries will ripen, beckoning the kids and I to sneak a pail-full here and there for jam and pies or eating fresh. If we are lucky, our friend The Farmer will bring bags of berries at the end of the season for us to freeze and the sadness of losing a favorite sledding spot will give way to warm pancakes on a snowy morning, topped with warm blueberry sauce and hot maple syrup.

But for now, the sun has set and the peepers are singing as we stoke the fire. The smell of freshly turned earth and bruised grass creeps into the house and we relish the fortune of good food in a good place.

From Zen Kimchi: Dried Persimmons

A great post on dried persimmons, something that I've tasted all of one time. Read the full story here, but to start you off...

Dried Persimmons:

“…and I’m bringing the thing that’s scarier than a tiger.”

It took me all 10 seconds to interpret my father’s email a few days before his visit.

The Korean folk tale about dried persimmons goes something like this. Once upon a time, a mother was trying to calm her crying baby. She said, “if you don’t stop crying, a tiger will take you away.” The baby, now more scared at the thought of a tiger, cried louder. The mom was frustrated and didn’t know how to stop this mad crying from her son, so she gave in and said, “ok, if you stop crying, I’ll give you a gotgam (곶감; dried persimmon).” The baby, thinking of a sweet, soft gotgam, finally stopped crying.

All this time, a tiger was eavesdropping from outside. When gotgam finally stopped the baby’s crying, the tiger said to himself, “this gotgam thing, whatever it is, must be something really scary, even scarier than me!” So the tiger ran away before the scary gotgam made its entrance.

BiBimBap

Bibimbap. Comfort. Savory. Spicy. Sour.

Mom.

Cold weather. Leftovers. Sticky rice. Chopsticks.

Bibimbap is the ultimate comfort food in my house. It's one of the few Korean dishes my children enjoy and look forward to. I fear their palates have been dulled by a northern Vermont diet as well as my penchant for eating seasonally and locally. It is with great relief that they welcome this dish during our snowy winters and cold spring months.

So, here is my Hapa/Vermont version:

• Steamed brown rice
  
• Cabbage sauteed in a bit of oil and salt, set aside in a bowl with a cover
• Spinach and onions sauteed in sesame oil and tossed with sesame seeds, set aside in bowl with cabbage
• Mushrooms sauteed in a bit of oil and a splash of tamari, set aside in bowl with cabbage and spinach
  
• Leftover meat sauteed in a ginger-y, onion-y, garlicky, tamari/white wine based sauce sweetened with brown sugar and spiced with chilis and sesame seeds.
• Optional: Fried egg
  

Use one pan, wiping with cloth between uses is necessary, and one bowl with cover to keep each vegetable hot. After heating leftover, marinated meat, fill a bowl with hot steamed brown rice and top with each dish, adding optional fried egg at the very end. Add a bit of kimchee or pickled vegetable for those who like it.

And Tonight's Dinner Is.....

(drumroll please!)

Brown Lentils with Bacon and Chard.

I cooked the lentils in one pot, with plenty of water and a bit of salt, for about 20 to 25 minutes. Do not use red lentils as they turn to mush (which is perfect for dal, but not for this dish).

In a cast iron pan, I slowly cooked my homegrown bacon, took it out and chopped it.

In the same pan, I cooked chopped onions (from the farm down the road) until soft then added roughly chopped Swiss Chard, stirring until wilted then added the bacon back in.

I added the veggie mix to the cooked lentils, and coated with a simple vinaigrette made of Dijon mustard, walnut oil and cider vinegar. A quick turn of the pepper grinder brought everything together.

This one bowl meal for one (or two!) washed down with a dark beer was perfect for this wintery night. I finished off my meal with a large spoonful of homemade, creamy rice pudding topped off with a drizzle of a friend's maple syrup.

The Best Damn Supper...ever.

Tonight, I had venison tenderloin seared to a medium rare in bacon fat, onions and winter greens. Add a pile of boiled purple potatoes seasoned with salt, pepper and butter with a glass of tasty yet inexpensive red wine. Absolute heaven.