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July 2007 Newsletter
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Dear Kitchen Gardener,
Walking through the well-known farmers' market in Uzès,
France, as I recently had a chance to do, is a religious experience for
food lovers. The
olive stands alone are worth the trip. Add to that heaping
tables of sun-drenched produce, artisan breads and cheeses, a
mind-boggling choice of honeys, meats and seafood fished from the nearby
Mediterranean Sea and you have all the
makings of a memorable meal, if not several.
In fact, the quality and
variety of the produce is so dazzling that you might be tempted to ask
yourself why any area resident would bother growing some of his or her
own. Yet, despite the fresh bounty on offer twice a week at the Uzès
market, the kitchen garden, or "potager" as the French call it,
seemed much alive and well where I was staying.
I had a chance to meet and
speak with a few gardeners while I was there. If they grow some of
their own food, it's for the same reasons that you and I do: taste,
variety, freshness, economics, concerns about the environment, and, most
importantly, because they enjoy the process. My trip
reinforced what I already knew: kitchen gardening is a universal
language with many different dialects. What's different is that
some of us have a better garden view out our back door than others!
I learned a lot while I was
there. Rather than try to share it all in one gush, I'll let the
stories, pictures, and recipes trickle out over the course of the next
several months. In fact, if there's sufficient interest, we may at
some stage even consider organizing a KGI trip for those of you
interested in seeing and tasting the pleasures of Provence firsthand.
I'll look forward to updating
next month in the week leading up to
Kitchen Garden Day. I hope you'll find a way of recognizing
the day in some small way. We've got a lot to celebrate and share
with others.
Warm regards,
PS: Interested in starting a
local kitchen garden group in your area?
Check out
our new info page on gPods
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| 2. |
Seeing October in a new light
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By Barbara Damrosch, published Thursday, September 20, 2007 in The Washington Post
When T.S. Eliot wrote "April is the cruelest month," he might have added, "October is seriously underrated."
Consider those two months. We expect from both a temperature range midway between hot and cold, with unpredictable doses of either. But gardeners, especially, embrace April with exaggerated hope and cheer, oblivious to the imminent onset of blistering heat, drought and bolted lettuce. By October many edge wearily and even gratefully into the shadow of oncoming winter, forgetting to enjoy the gardening year's best weather.
Poke your head outside the cocoon of artificial lighting and controlled indoor temperature, and you'll better understand the rhythm of the seasons' lag time, a planetary dance in which reality and symbol rarely mesh. What we call summer solstice (around June 21) runs about two months ahead of the year's hottest weather, and the winter solstice (around Dec. 21) two months ahead of its coldest. "As the days begin to lengthen, the cold begins to strengthen," the old saying goes.
The number of daylight hours on the spring equinox (around March 21) is the same as that on the fall equinox (around Sept. 22), but while the sun in March seems feeble, in September it feels strong, thanks to the slowness with which the earth absorbs and releases the sun's heat. In spring the warming of the soil surface can lag a month and a half behind that of the air on a mild day, and six feet below, the lag can be as much as three months. In fall, the ground is comparably slow to chill.
This all adds up to fall gardening nirvana. The earth is still warm, even if you start the day with a thick sweater. Pest insects are bundling themselves up in pupae to hibernate or seeking refuge underground. The shortening days let you get away with feats impossible in spring. Lettuce and spinach, whose impulse to go to seed is triggered by lengthening days, do not bolt cruelly, but bide their time, allowing a gloriously long harvest. Arugula loses its harsh bite. Carrots, beets, turnips, parsnips and Brussels sprouts begin the magical sweetening-up that comes with the cold.
As maples turn scarlet, Tuscan kale glows with the deep green of chlorophyll. By the time such summer crops as tomatoes, cucumbers and melons have frozen or lost their flavor, far more crops have reached the perfect moment. You're then ready to compost all those tired vines and embrace the garden's benign season.
Article copyright of Barbara Damrosch. Reprinted with permission.
Photo credit: Veronica Lynn
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| 3. |
In a Lebanese kitchen garden
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We're delighted to feature a video this month entitled "Cooking With Love: Alice’s Kitchen" produced by the good folks at "Cooking Up a Story". It features Linda Dalal Sawaya who talks about how her love of gardening, cooking, and her own Lebanese heritage got passed down over the generations from mother to daughter. Linda shares a biteful of this oral history in this short video and a heaping portion in a book she wrote called "Alice's Kitchen: Traditional Lebanese Recipes".
Related recipes:
Summer Squash Stuffed with Rice
My Father’s Tomato Salad
Easy Garden Fresh Tabouleh
Lebanese Okra and Tomato Stew
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| 4. |
Tomato inspiration
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Are you harvesting tomatoes hand over fist and looking for some fresh ideas on how to prepare them? Well, the global blogosphere is here to help. Below are a few recipes recently posted to some food blogs that you will probably want to get to know better. Enjoy.
From Simply Recipes:
White Beans and Cherry Tomato Salad
Gazpacho
From Chocolate & Zucchini:
Panzanella
From Kayn's Kitchen:
Tomato and Cucumber Salad with Mint, Feta, Lemon, and Thyme
Slow roasted tomatoes
From David Lebovitz:
Marinated Tomato Salad
From Just Hungry:
Tabbouleh with Heirloom Tomatoes and Shiso
From Champagne Taste:
Roasted tomato sauce
From A Veggie Venture:
Baked Eggs with Tomato and Spinach
Photo by D. Knisely
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| 5. |
Traditional Provencal aioli recipe
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Aioli is a garlic mayonnaise made of garlic, egg, lemon juice, and olive oil. In Provence, aioli (or more formally, Le Grand Aioli) also designates a complete dish consisting of various boiled vegetables (usually carrots, potatoes, and green beans), boiled fish (normally salt cod), and boiled eggs served with the aioli sauce.
While modern cooks have taken to making aioli in a blender or food processor, the traditional method is to use a mortar and pestle which gives the sauce a creamier texture. The technique described below comes from J.B. Reboul's classic cookbook, La Cuisiniere Provencale, published in 1897 and widely considered to be the bible of Provencal cooking.
Take two cloves of garlic per person , peel them, place them in a mortar, reduce them to a paste with a pestle; add a pinch of salt, an egg yolk and pour in the oil in a thin thread while turning with the pestle. Take care to add the oil very slowly and, during this time, never stop turning; you should obtain a think pommade. After having added about three or four tablespoons of oil, add the juice of a lemon and a teaspoon of tepid water, continue to add oil little by little and, when the pommade again becomes too thick, add another few drops of water, without which it falls apart, so to speak, the oil separating itself from the rest.
If, despite all precautions, this accident should occur, one must remove everything from the mortar, put into it another egg yolk, a few drops of lemon juice and, little by little, spoonful by spoonful, add the unsuccessful aioli while turning the pestle constantly. This one calls "reinstating the aioli" (relever l'aioli).
An aioli for seven to eight persons will absorb something over two cups of oil.
In his similarly classic book, Simple French Food, Richard Olney recommends toning down the recipe for non-Provençal palates unaccustomed to such a heavy dose of garlic. He suggests four cloves of garlic for an aioli serving 8 people. He also recommends starting with two egg yolks before starting to add the oil.
Photo courtesy of Chris John Beckett
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