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Posts Tagged ‘Amy Campion’

Back in Vermont, now, where we’re having the hottest night of the summer.  Haze turned the Green Mountains graduated shades of blue-gray today, on our long drive home.  Our last day on Nantucket was a full one–from bikes and beach in the morning to a wedding party in the evening.  Blank from a day of travel, I’ll just post the highlights.

ubiquitous blue hydrangea

ubiquitous blue hydrangea

Jack and the tree that was probably a sapling when our ancestors, the Rodmans, Rotches, and Husseys were on this island worshiping the whales:

tree

Waiting for waves at Cisco Beach:

wave

And boogie boarding:

boogieb

Then, we were off to the celebration in Siasconset.  Ginger ale or Veuve?

shirley
Jack liked the “shrimp lollipops.”

shrimp

Jeremiah liked the Boston lettuce:

salad

And everyone liked the chocolate-espresso pot de creme:

choc. pot

And, since I did more body-surfing than web-surfing or researching of any kind, I’ll put in a link to an article on “Slow Fish” on a related island, Martha’s Vineyard.

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I’ve eaten much more fish in the past two months than I normally eat in a year.  I’ve been lucky enough to visit these seafood capitals of the northeast.  Eating locally on an island is pretty easy at this season.  For Nantucket, in particular, striking a balance between conservation and sustainability on the one hand and the inevitable conspicuous consumption of a resort island on the other, is especially important, and tricky, because people come for the timelessness of its beaches and weathered shingle cottages, but also come to vacation and to do all of the spending and  consuming that entails. My Nantucket Quaker ancestors rode the wave of one tide of American capitalism centuries ago, and helped to whale nearly all of the sperm whales out of the Atlantic.  The great white whale is now a threatened species.   Bluefish are abundant, due to regulated sport fishing, and stripers are vulnerable, so I’ll savor them when they’re fresh and local.  We’ve come too late in the year for Nantucket Bay scallops, the sweetest, smallest morsels in the sea.  When I worked at a restaurant in Somerville, near Boston, those of us in the kitchen snuck a couple of raw ones when the small, highly priced shipment came in.   They have a brief season, anticipated by seafood lovers, and hopefully protected by sustainable harvesting practices.

We saw some small-scale fishermen working quickly the other night, just before the dinner hour, to clean and portion these tunas.

fish cutting

albacore

A large vegetable and flower farm here has turned to sustainable energy,

turbine

but I also saw some spray tanks attached to the tractors.  Their seasonal produce, displayed in a bountiful tumble of color, is wonderful, though.   There were at least four kinds of eggplant; I bought bunches of the Japanese and the “Fairy Tale” varieties, along with a pile of pattypan squash, and roasted them last night (it was chilly outside).  (Olive oil, salt, pepper, fresh rosemary, 425 for 40 or so minutes.)

eggplants

pattypan

Another local institution I like to frequent when I’m here is the bread bakery and sandwich shop, Something Natural.  They bake hundreds of loaves daily, and construct hundreds of jumbo sandwiches for a steady stream of people.  Their chocolate chip cookies, with dark chocolate chunks and a chewy-crispy buttery crumb, are the best.

something nat.

bread
When the endless possibilities for people watching turn tedious, it’s fun to find the animals.  We watched swallows gathering on the wires, and the flock seemed to grow by the hundreds every few minutes.

swallows

more

more

even more

even more

Bunnies hop out of the bushes, and scurry back in when they see Jack coming.

bunny

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We’re on Nantucket for a bit this week.  My cousin’s getting married, so our family (minus Peter, who’s at Breadloaf) is crashing in a mothbally cottage that sits on a rare high hill on this island, and would have a 360-degree view if it weren’t for the fog, clouds, and rain.  “It’s ANOTHER blustery day!” shouts Jack, thrilled by any weather.

I’ve been enjoying local food steadily, but don’t have a steady stream of internet access.  I’m sitting in a corner in the “Atheneum”–the town library–right now, but I forgot to upload the great pictures I took last night of three tunas being butchered dockside.

So… more on tuna and other treasures of the sea, and the organic farm, and Something Natural, later.

Jack and I enjoyed a simple meal on the ferry on the way over: slices of Jarlsberg, “crispy wheats,” amber ale, lemondade.

Jack ferry

His favorite part was watching the wake.

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Artist friends, look at this!

Purple beans

Look at these colors.  They don’t spring out.  They are dark and intuitional, like Arthur Dove’s.  Not as overt as Georgia O’Keefe’s, though I’m asking you to look at the small, wet extremity that splits the color spectrum into two.

It’s shocking, disappointing, and then, simply life.  These beans, when boiled, go from purple to green.  The most intense purple, deep, darkly fertile.  To green.  Basic beany green.

Romano.  String. Wax. Green.  Jack and the bean stalk.  There’s still some magic, despite the Anglo-Saxon simplicity of name.

Jack's sprout

Jack is thrilled to see his bean coming to fruition. Fruition. It is a fruit. First the little, tender stem. Then, the tiny, furled leaf.  He planted it in a Dixie cup full of soil. He didn’t, and doesn’t, know what it was.  But his enthusiasm for the greenness of the green shoot is boundless.  He’s contemplative, in awe, amazed, incredulous, proud. It’s a pleasure to watch. Does it have anything to do with his asking, “Mommy, why did you decide to grow a baby? … I mean me?”

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This summer, while we live–on extended visits–with various units of extended family, my cooking life has been tyrannized.  Not by non-omnivores or picky children so much as by the need to please everyone.  How to do so?  In our family, it’s with the Square Meal.  Protein, veg, “starch,” bev.

Last night, I said, “forget it, I’m making what I want and I’m not cooking.”  Well, I did cook, but just two 8-minute eggs for Jack and a handful of green beans.  We ate a cold and warm assortment of fresh, ripe, local foods.  Remember those heirloom tomatoes I bought on Saturday?  Black and pink brandywines.  I sliced them thick and sprinkled them with fresh mozzarella, basil chiffonade, salt, pepper, and olive oil.  I cooked the green and yellow wax beans just a bit, and tossed them with leftover sweet corn that had been cut off the cob, and with an assortment of chopped herbs from the back yard.  We also had Tarentaise, the cheese made by the Putnams of Thistle Hill Farm in North Pomfret.  A bowlful of mixed greens with mustardy vinaigrette.  A King Arthur baguette.  Vinho Verde, the effervescent, airy as seagrass Portuguese white that I love.

I know, doesn’t sound like a very adventurous escape.  Ah, well.  It was a good meal.

And escape from the tyranny of square meals is a topic that warrants discussion.  We eat that way quite a bit more at home, and not just because we’re busy parents of a busy four-year-old.  It’s refreshing to eat picnics inside, or to make a meal of the humble egg.

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It’s been nice hearing from all of you, good friends, from Berkeley, in the past few days, especially after getting an official notice telling me my email account was being closed.  Is that some desperate attempt at cost-cutting on the part of the university?  

I have such good memories of Berkeley, and these memories tend to focus on food and walks.

Running down the hill this morning made me think about another regular route I used to take all the way down a steep hill, and then back up.  Not the one to campus, no.  The one to the Cheese Board and to Peets.  Especially during Jack’s first year, I had the need to walk a lot.  Sometimes I’d walk with Bea and our boys in the strollers all the way down the streets and paths to Solano Ave., to Thousand Oaks School, where they had a tot playground with lots of castoff Little Tikes toys.  Most days I’d walk by myself, with Jack strapped in the Ergo on my back, down Euclid, the Vine Lane path, and Vine, to Peets for a latte and across Shattuck Ave. for a corn cherry scone:  the yummiest, most comfort-foody cornmeal drop scone full of dried slightly sour bing cherries. No other scone has ever measured up.

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Thanks to the Seed Savers Exchange, Brandywine heirloom tomatoes are grown by many small farmers, and bought by many tomato lovers like me.  I spent a pretty penny on these green-shouldered beauties this morning at the Cedar Circle stand at the Norwich Farmers’ Market.

I bought two each of two varieties: Black and Pink Brandywine.  They are sweet and juicy, but touched with a delicate acidity, like a Provençal rosé.  I almost hate to dress them with anything but salt.

Adorned best by sun:

heirloom tomatoes

Or shade:

tomatoes

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Do you make your own granola?  There are plenty of reasons to do so, and plenty of reasons not to buy it pre-made.

Why do it?   Your home will smell like cinnamon. You can control what kinds of nuts, grains, oil, and sweetener go in it. It’s easy. It’s delicious.

Why not buy pre-made?  Needless packaging.  Extra $$.  Take-what-you-get ingredients. A texture which to me says “stale.”

I’ve been making granola since I was old enough to hold a big wooden spoon.  Well, at least, my mom has always made her own granola, and I started doing so for myself as soon as I left the nest.  (Am I corny enough for you today?  I’m trying to be crunchy.)  When I first met Peter, he mocked me for being a twig eater and still calls me granola-girl when he smells it cooking.  Food trafficking goes both ways in a relationship, though, and now he eats more twigs while I eat more flesh (after a vegetarian hiatus in my teens).

Anyway, back to the granola.  It takes 2 hours and 10 minutes to make, 2 hours of which are unattended.  I buy all of the ingredients in bulk, and get organic when it’s available.  They all store well in the freezer.

granola

mmm... can you smell it?

Granola

3 c. rolled oats
1 c. each: cashew pieces, peanuts, chopped walnuts, soy nuts, pepitas, sunflower seeds, sesame seeds, wheat germ, unsweetened coconut, sliced almonds
1/4 c. freshly ground golden flax seeds
1-2 tbs. cinnamon

1/3 c. canola oil mixed with 2/3 c. maple syrup and 1 tsp. vanilla

Pre-heat oven to 225.  Stir together all dry ingredients and cinnamon.  Douse with the wet ingredients and stir thoroughly.  Spread on two cookie sheets and bake for 2 hours.

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After kneading the dough, I’m having my first relaxed moment of the day.  (A glass of Lillet helps.)  This morning, Jack slept late, which meant we all did.  The day, then, started off with high adrenaline and an extra coffee.  (I really like the long espresso they pull at Allechante.)  I dropped Jack at the Montshire Museum of Science pre-school camp, where, today, they learned about animal tracks.

farm view

Then, I drove to the Dartmouth Organic Farm for an hour and a half of sustainability chit chat and book-title trading with Scott, the manager.  He has great visions for the place: a conference and meeting space in the old farmhouse, a teaching area and soil sciences lab in the big kitchen, an interdisciplinary course on the history of Chinese agriculture, so much more…. I told him about everything Auburn is doing, and about the Rome Sustainable Food Project, which I’ll be enjoying in one short month!

We had a fun morning.

Then, picnic with Papa, Storrs pool with the boys, Hanover Food Co-op for dinner supplies, back home, clean up, send emails, this, that, knead the dough…. (I know, it doesn’t sound very taxing.)

At last I can sit and watch the hummingbirds zip in for their sugary snack.  And contemplate the comfort food I’ll serve up later.

It will be a semi-local meal.  The lettuce for a salad will come from the garden, and the mozzarella comes from Maplebrook Farm in Bennington, Vermont, and the flour comes from the 200+-year-old local institution, King Arthur Flour. (I like the way they have a “Flour Philosophy” on their website.  And I like their unbleached flour.)

Calzones
serves 4, or more with small eaters

Dough:
1 c. warm water
1. tsp. yeast
1 tbs. olive oil
1/2 tsp. salt
about 3 c. flour

Filling:
a few big handfuls of fresh spinach, chopped
1/2 c. organic ricotta (fresh if you’ve got it!)
1 ball mozzarella, pulled into strands
1/2 c. grated parmagiano-reggiano
1 egg
12 thin slices Genoa salame

Make the dough, and let rise for 1 hour. Then shape it into 4 8-inch discs, and let them rise. Pre-heat oven to 425.

Mix the filling, and when the dough is ready, plop large spoonfuls of it onto one side of the discs. Top with slices of salame. Fold and close the dough, brush with olive oil, bake for 15-20 minutes.

Serve with warm marinara for dipping.

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One thing I love about summer around here is the bounty.  There are so many vegetables available, you can afford just to play with them.  In meals, I mean.

At Killdeer today, I bought bagsful of beans–green and yellow wax.  I had some purple potatoes from the other day, and we had parsley and arugula in the kitchen garden.

The result was a yummy, warm summer salad.

bean salad

Green Bean and Potato Salad

1 handful each of green and yellow wax beans, steamed until al dente
1/2 lb. purple potatoes
homemade mustardy vinaigrette
1 handful each chopped parsley and arugula

Let cooked vegetables sit until room temperature, then dress, mix, season with salt and pepper, and serve.

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