Recipe Thursday: Harira

We were very fortunate to have travelled to Morocco when we were younger and stayed with extended extended family. We travelled with a Moroccan and got to see all the in’s and out’s of a couple of the big cities and some of the countryside. We visited Casablanca and Rabat, stayed in Mohammedia, took a crazy trip to Fez and then a train to Marrakesh, all in all spending about a month there.

Besides having a brief (but intense) bout of ‘Hassan’s Revenge’ for the both of us (and then grateful for separate beds in Marrakesh), our trip was amazing and we loved every minute of it. We visited old forts, many a marketplace (including Djemaa el-Fna), ate in palaces, toured ceramics makers, got henna, went to a Hammam (bathhouse), Jardin Majorelle, and a Fantasia performance.

And we ate, oh, we ate. All the things. Fresh clementines from the trees, market strawberries, street merguez, tajines full of meats and dates and prunes, couscous with piles of vegetables and choice lamb, chicken with olives and preserved lemons, local fish and seafood, sfinge, and even pizza with anchovies and olives, and plenty of orange soda. When the extended family would visit the States they would continue to make us miraculous treats like Bisteeya and more tajines.

Saffron, cumin, and cinnamon are the super combo that makes Moroccan food so dreamy and deep flavored lightened with lemony brightness. And they shine in the lusciousness of Harira — a fortified stew eaten generally in the fasting breaks during Ramadan. Meat, eggs, lentils, and garbanzo beans are the proteins while the noodles and thick broth fill you up. Flavored with parsley, celery, tomatoes, and onions, it is really hearty fare. I tone it down a bit by eliminating the lentils (and celery — mostly because I don’t have it on hand because I’m not a big fan), reducing some of the onion, and using canned chickpeas and tomatoes, and sometimes adding a bit of cilantro at the end. There are versions without the egg-lemon mixture but I don’t find them as interesting.

This is from Paula Wolfert’s original Couscous cookbook, a book I found by chance at Rivendell Books in Montpelier, VT a million years ago (ok, maybe 25) and use it often. I love Paula’s authentic processes though I adapt many that I make regularly to quicker versions. In this version I use lamb necks (salt on both sides). I heat ghee or butter with a little oil and add a healthy pinch of saffron, turmeric, ginger, black pepper, chopped onion and chopped parsley to the pot and stir until fragrant and the onions have softened, then I add the lamb necks to brown in the hot oil on either side. I pour a big can of fire-roasted tomatoes in, and then fill the can again and pour that in. Add 2 sticks of cinnamon, 2 cups of chicken broth and bring to a boil, then simmer with the lid askew for 1 and a half hours. I then add 2 cans of garbanzo/chickpeas to the pot, bring to a boil,adding fine soup eggnoodles. When they are al dente, I then stream in the lemon/egg mixture (if it goes to fast and doesn’t form long egg strands like she says, it is more like egg drop soup and is still delicious, don’t beat yourself up about it), while stirring constantly. I serve with a swirl more of lemon juice (or lemon wedges), and a little chopped cilantro.

A rich and hearty stew for the chill of Winter.

Tuesday 2-Do List

  • The woodstove has been cranking, bringing in wood is a never-ending need these days but with the impending storms again, the wood crib needs to be filled (and we are really hoping we have enough wood this year — we should plan some holz hausen for next year!)
  • Time to make bath soaks and teas for gift baskets (and myself, I’ve a good supply of dried red clover, calendula, bee balm, st. john’s wort, rose hip, raspberry leaf, lavender, white pine, milky oats, and self-heal), with aluminum-free magnesium salts, sea salt, oat milk or powdered buttermilk, or clays (bentonite or kaolin)
  • Which also feeds into our health tinctures: I’ve set up st. john’s wort, hawthorn, evening primrose, and cleavers tinctures. i also have dried elderberry, mullein, and lemon balm for prevention
  • Reminding me I need to make toothpaste this week. I prefer just a coconut oil base with baking soda, charcoal, and a little tea tree oil…I feel so much cleaner. Sometimes when I run out I’ll try regular Tom’s Mint (sans flouride) and I can’t stand the sweetness or foaminess. I’m too lazy to make my own soap so I rely on the goodness of either J.R. Liggett’s for shampoo or my new local find Rabbit’s Foot Farm from the Augusta Farmer’s Market which is making me very happy
  • Grant and article writing for the week begins tomorrow…getting random ducks in a row or so. We’ve got some educational homestead plans to organize
  • We also have to plan our Imbolc celebration (my favorite festival), and a simultaneous art show from wild apotropaic at the shop (still much to do on the latter, many collective thoughts to unfold in a short span of time)
  • I’ve been looking into basket-making, especially for the baker. The banneton baskets used for proofing the bread dough wear out and they can be expensive so I’ve been considering willow or cotton substitutes (though I have to say, basket-making is not really high on my personal desires but it is a necessary thing that I could contribute)
  • And we’ve still yet to plan the gardens for this year — we’re doing a bit of an overhaul, especially since the recent storms have brought down what we thought were semi-permanent structures/trellis and fencing. I’m kind of excited about this, and daunted by the task. I dream of a little group of folks who want to sit around and nerd out on garden planning and drink foraged/herbal tea (hint, hint) — I picture a big table with all of our various maps, circles of cups in the corners, open landscaping books, seed catalogs, valuing the merits of companion planting, permaculture zones, and aesthetic desires…it’s a rich fantasy life I lead
  • Which leads to the final task of the week I should at least start — cleaning out the front porch/seedling room. Our essentially 2-season north facing front porch but outfitted with large shelves with heat pads and lights for starting seeds. J brought in an antique 2 bay washing trough/sink that I mix growing mediums in and use a couple of boards as a makeshift potting table on top of it. It works, sort of, enough but I need to start making some seedling decisions

Get crackin’. Let’s hope the storm doesn’t deter us (or fill the basement with water)…

Monday’s Musing

(book at hand, on a snow day at home — actually, i pulled out Maxine Hong Kingston’s Fifth Book of Peace, and inside found a bookmark gift from years ago from the baker with his words which feel perfect right now…)

This time
the quiet spaces that
fall between
like snow in a forest
to cover the exposed
ground
as though from timidity

this time before you
awake
is the time when I try to
imagine
what I did to deserve
this time

in the strange way that
we have
this is our independence
the breath we take
while the other is
sleeping
and it is enough

Catching up on a Thursday, with a recipe thrown in: Roasted Butternut Squash Pasta Sauce…

I know, I know, not really a thing, this ‘catching up on a Thursday’. It’s supposed to be recipe Thursday but maybe we’ll just do everything at once. That is certainly how it feels most days right now — how do we fit just everything we need to do in one day — we have finally added another day (two days off, together? that might be almost human)…maybe it should be ‘Catcher’s Mitt Thursday’. Cleaning up — laundry/dishes, arting, organizing, business planning, shopwork, grant writing, article writing, feed the fire, more laundry, garden planning, workshop planning, feed the fire again, meal preparation, maybe a dinner date?, more laundry…etc (did you do your Duolingo lesson today? ha!).

D has been dying for preserved lemons so we set her up to make her own batch. In a great pot or big jar, lemons, salt, lemon juice if needed — cut them into almost quarters, leaving an inch connected, pry them open and salt, smash them into the jar to release juices, salt some more, add more lemons until jar is full, salting in the crevices and on top, you can cut them into wedges if necessary to fill the gaps…and the most crucial element — time. They take about a month to get tender and ‘preserved’, then rinse them, remove lemon ‘meat’ and discard, and use accordingly to recipe or desire. Start another batch. She loves them best with green cracked olives, roast chicken, and Fregola.

J has been longing for this Roasted Butternut Pasta Sauce recipe he found so I made his dream come true. Heat oven to 350 degrees. Split and seed a whole Butternut Squash, crosshatch slices into flesh and then fill seed cavity with a whole head of trimmed garlic (just cut ends off), drizzle & dust all with olive oil, sea salt, paprika, and thyme sprigs and roast until tender (about 45 min. or so, fork test for tenderness — you want it fully soft but not mushy), remove to cool a bit. Cook pasta per directions (tagliatelle or paccheri style), drain but save a little pasta water. Blend in a processor the squash with the squeezed out soft garlic from their skins (discard skins) and 1/4 cup pasta water. In a saute pan, add a little oil and add sage leaves, sauteeing until crisp, remove from pan (set aside) and then add finely chopped shallot (cook for 2 minutes until translucent), then add 1/3 cup dry white wine, squash puree, 1 cup heavy cream and heat through, stirring until thick but still loose — saucy. Add 3/4 cup shredded parmesan cheese and stir in, save a little for garnish. Toss sauce with pasta, plate, add fried sage leaves and sprinkle parmesan. So freaking delicious (thank you Al Dante).

The child is doing her best Marie Kondo-workout today (and requests my assistance) on her room as I laze about and look up potsticker recipes. She’s cleaned out her art supplies (and ridiculous pencil collection), and old cardboard constructions (and even found some fun Kiwi crates to finish). It’s a rough life around here (yes, resplendent with bagel sandwiches this morning!). Yesterday, the baker had to go to work a couple of times for a bit each to prepare for his final class in this series (they are baking bread! much prep) which is tonite. I cleaned and arted (and actually managed to listen to a podcast, my 3rd in life so far) — it was glorious. It felt like the first time we’ve relaxed a bit in ages. I think we all actually slept (and had crazy animal symbolism dreams)! Now, if I can just get to the mending pile and the reading pile — egad.

I think for our belated anniversary date tonite, we’re going to talk big plans for a homestead/shop continuum, where it all comes together…sounds dreamy.

Duendesday: Aftermath/Solstice Saga

{life with a curious and crazy 13 yr old}

As D would tell it, our Solstice was cancelled and our celebrations ruined. She’s not one for silver linings yet. From a kid perspective, it was pretty terrible — all of her expected happenings and excitement deflated by means beyond her (or any of ours) control. I haven’t even finished her gift yet (some nice crocheted hand warmers I just haven’t had time to work on).

First, Solstice was shaping up to be thin as it was, we were worked to full capacity (T-day weekend was also Black Friday, Shop Local Saturday, and our one-year store Anniversary, AND the weekend before my dissertation defense, so…just a little bit of stress and overtime — thank you to our lovely neighbors for taking us in for T-day dinner and to my defense committee for being so generous), we were strapped for time and money. We had a great weekend full of celebration and store fun but we were exhausted (thank you to all the lovelies who came to our afterparty to listen to the baker play his guitar!). Somewhere in there J held some baking classes and we had a poetry book launch with the amazing Betty Thomas, and a lovely reading by local authors Gillian Burnes and Laurel Dodge.

To cobble together some kind of Solstice, J and I essentially wrapped random things from home and put them in our stocking (like we used to do when we were first together — ha!). Because of the heavy snow we were unable to find a decent tree in the back lot for Solstice and D was getting bummed (we certainly can’t afford to buy a tree), and all the events from the Events calendar were getting bumped due to time, money, and weather. We eventually strolled over to the derelict neighbor’s yard and gleaned a little white pine from her growing collection to which D promptly decorated and at least felt as if there was some festiveness happening.

And then the flood (see the after and after-after pics of the parking lot behind the store). 50-75mph winds, rain, snowmelt = flood. No power in the house for 4 days, no power in the store for 5 (no internet, no cell, no Solstice lights, no lights in the house except the front room but the systems like the fridge, freezer, and water pump/sump pump were on and the kitchen island — we live ok on the teapot/rice cooker/hot plate scenario for a bit, and now I hope we have enough wood to get through the season since we weren’t able to get any this year). We had a loss of business time (last week before the commercial holidays), much dough, and more sleep. The child had an ear infection all week and J needed emergency oral surgery on Solstice. I think the stress of keeping the generator going so that the sump-pump didn’t stop and the loss of business put him over the edge. Grammy sent a couple of presents so that held off the absolute meltdown for the kid (thank you Grammy & Poppi, she loves her new stereo and sweater!). So, we spent most of Solstice in the dentist’s office. The lights came on Solstice night — the little tree next to us as we huddled together on the couch lit up just in time. But no Solstice Take-Out, no Anniversary dinner, no Gardens Aglow, no Portland trip to buy gifts for each other (always a nice day spent together visiting old haunts and favorite spots), no country drive to see the decorations, no waffle breakfast at Hot Suppa, or full home spa day (though we did sneak in a little spa after some stocking presents), and I think I got the last Egg Nog on the shelf. The next day we spent in the 40degree and stinky (smelled like oil spill from other shop’s systems failing) store.

But marvelous folks came in, and other shops helped other shops (thank you to Goldfinch Creamery for the coffee, and Selene’s Fly Shop for the heater, and Costell & Costell Gallery for the heads up!) , and the Master Electrician assessed ours and many others’ needs, and the local farmer/senator came in to check in on us, and the mayor, code enforcement, and many many friends dropped by to make sure we were ok. And we were — all things considered, we were better off than many who remained without power long after us, lost a lot of stock, equipment, business time and employee care. Our hearts go out to them, and our help any way we can…

We came in on christmas eve and christmas to make sure folks had bread and food for their families (also making sure the bread members and shares had their breads for their families on Tuesdays — that’s how it works for us with a 24 hour fermentation cycle). The 24th is also our wedding anniversary so as we celebrated a bit with a nice bread board and some biodynamic prosecco from the determined and amazing Table Bar (sans power and heat), when our basement finally decided to fill with water and destroy a freezer full of food and the word is still out on the damage to the hot water heater (we managed to save some of the food by moving it to a defunct freezer in the garage, our spare from the pandemic). I think we finally got a little sleep last night.

We haven’t assessed the damage to the homestead yet — to be honest, I think we’re a little afraid. We know a couple of dear trees lost big branches and apples were uprooted, we can see from here that the massive pea trellis has collapsed and the swale has overflowed and washed out but we haven’t ventured further. We’re afraid the work will be too much to repair and all the systems we have put into place over the last 8 years will be gone. We will wait another week before we look, I think. We’ll just admire the stars at night, and the sun over the hill for now.

At some point D has to learn that 1) adaptability is key to survival, 2) we are all together and safe, and 3) we are all in it together so we have to step up and help each other — Winter Solstice is going to happen with or without us anyway and our celebration of it is our gift. One we celebrate in many ways and at many times.

May you be safe and sound at the end of this calendar year, and renewed for the next. The days getting longer is a positive thing, right? Happy Winter.

Tuesday Happenings: Minor Failures

Sometimes things just don’t work out as planned and it’s how you respond or recover from disappointment or change. We won’t even get into how the weather has been messing with our schedule and ability to function. We were surprised this week by one endeavor we thought we had down — canning applesauce. It’s a no-brainer at this point…or so we thought. The child comes in to see us one morning and swears she heard a mouse in the laundry room (not an impossibility but not our favorite as it is also the pantry, and the animal food room) so we looked about and couldn’t find evidence and moved on with our lives.

Then I was home one day and heard a weird sound on one of the shelves — also thinking it was a mouse (and yes, I act like a cartoon Mom — squealing and likely up on a chair) but I moved some boxes around and instead found a jar of recently canned applesauce slowly exploding from its lid! And then I look up at the top shelf where the flat of pint jars full of applesauce lives and I can see that more of them have burst (and glued themselves to the wall, the shelf, the box, etc). So, I pull it down and J proceeds to clean them out and take the lids off before the jars break — they are still alive! They start bubbling and pouring out of their jars, one shoots me with a glob of applesauce from across the room, and now we have an entire roasting pan of fermented applesauce. We still have no idea how it happened (though we suspect the paltry ‘pandemic’ lids), it’s never happened before but the whole batch is gone.

This isn’t the first time we’ve had fermented explosions — a summer or two ago we made Blackberry soda (per Pascal Baudar) and it hit the vaulted ceiling (and all over J, which at the time I thought was hilarious, he — not so much) and I’ve had Kimchi foam over, and obviously Doris the Sourdough Starter has escaped her pot a few times. But this was something else — applesauce everywhere. It won’t deter us from setting up another batch but we’ll be on the look out for signs of failure this time (and make sure we have prime grade lids!).

Time to sit in my favorite corner with a nice glass of wine and recoup.

Settling In to the Season: a day adrift

Between the festivities of last week (Shop Local Saturday, our First Year Shop Anniversary — thank you all who came out to listen to the baker sing and celebrate with us!, and the finalization of my degree process — with Two Fat Cats Bakery cupcakes and a little effervescence with folks at Table Bar) and the weather of this week (making our internet spotty at the house), I have been remiss at sharing in this space. So, here’s a ‘day in the life’ adrift from the schedule we normally work in.

After the first of the new year we are going to have 2 days off together (closing the shop for both Wednesday and Thursday) so that we can feel like human-beings again (most of our days off we are still managing things for the shop, this might allow a little time off for other things). It’s hard as a family shop to remind the public that we are people, too. Many folks would prefer if we were open seven days a week and had all the things all the time, but as actual people making community and doing our best to make this kind of space, it’s harder than it looks and does not fit the corporate model. We need to rethink the ‘downtown ethos’ and remember and care for each other as people, not just factories for immediate satisfaction. With that said, we are so grateful for the folks who are building this re-membering of community with us.

Some of my favorite moments this week was the gentleman who told us that our bread helps his diabetes (he’s losing weight and maintaining his blood sugar — not the first time we’ve heard this! wonderful!). Or the meeting of the homeschooled minds in the lounge area (I think I heard them discuss the size of their feet, dance moves, and kids teaching kids cooking classes!). Or the folks that come in and feel represented, cared for, and safe in a space that respects them for the lovely people they are, and told me so while buying clever little revolutionary pamphlets and handbound poetry.

At the homestead, the snow is a little deep and hangs heavy on the trees. A snow gal is watching over us in their ballgown, the silhouettes of deer munch under the apple trees and alongside the rose bushes, holiday decorations are being pulled out and readied — the event calendar opened and shared. With windows telling us to have a pancake breakfast, spa day, pomegranates, chocolate/candy treats, books, records, lottery tickets, family singalong, game night, go on a country drive to see night decorations (with car popcorn and pop music), open gifts and stocking stuffers, with a final opening of the door on the Solstice where we get take-out! D makes a new decorated facade every year over our designated type-tray squares. This year with cut-out figures in the window like a cat and an alien (why not?). We’re thinking about going out to find our ‘Charlie Brown’ white pine sapling for our Solstice tree today (it’s how J keeps the population down in our back field and I like the sparse airy openness of the white pine saplings, beside the free-ness).

The child and I had a lovely snow day on Monday, resplendent with cozying up on the couch to watch some period pieces while mending/sewing and then making a lovely roasted Moroccan Chicken with Preserved Lemons, Green Olives, and Saffron Potatoes (it was divine). While the baker made bagels and prepared for the Tuesday orders. Things are coming together for us, we hope you will join us!

The 4th Thursday of Every November…

is dedicated to gratitude. As it should be, every American should be thankful for the Indigenous folk who saved their starving fundamentalist fannies so that the culture could grow and weed out those who helped in their time of dire need. So, many get together and re-envision what that gratitude could look like now — they thank their families and friends, they thank their lucky stars and Mother Earth, and they hopefully remember to step up and help others in dire need. Capitalism has commercialized it to the hilt, but I like to think that the core of the re-envisioning still stands for most of us.

I feel like I certainly see it in our growing community. Everyone can be a part of decolonization by lending a helping hand (and especially to Native peoples who now may need individual help, as people of our community, and culturally for both politics and capitalism to get out of their way so they can assert their right to self — and social– determination). As Tribal Chief Clarissa Sabattis, of the Houlton Maliseet says, “Food is sacred”, and this festival we call ‘Thanksgiving’ is about understanding food, and food sovereignty — as access to food, and the right to feed ourselves what we think is important, local, and best (and as the right to one’s culture and essential being).

Food is fundamental to how we congregate as community, how we care for each other, how we care for ourselves — it has helped us evolve (and sometimes devolve) physically and socially. And all revolutions relate to the ability to feed the people. Food is health, food is ethics, food is (unfortunately) politics. Food should be healthy and medicinal. Food should be fair and equitable. Food should be shared.

I want to take a moment just to thank some of our magnificient folk who have shared their food with us, coming in and offering their foraged, their homemade, and their homegrown. They’ve bartered and freely given. We’ve been luck to receive such bounty — tons of gorgeous basil (tulsi, thai, lemon, genovese), tons of gorgeous mushrooms (heads of maitake, black trumpet, yellow footed chanterelles and many more), ramps, scapes, eggs, lamb, bear jerky, honey, salads, jams, cookies, and almond bark, smoked chili powder, and bushels of Hatch green chili, berries, and cakes, and creme brulee, kombucha, maple syrup, and seeds. Some have opened their tables to us and we have eaten together. We are grateful indeed.

Duendesday: ‘doll-world’

{life with a curious and crazy 13 yr old}

Since she was a wee one, Duende has always made her own mind about her toys. We foster imaginative toys and we don’t buy plastic so she creates her own little worlds. She didn’t care for dolls when she was smaller, except a couple of stuffy dolls (Big Baby — who is a pillow doll, and a couple of gorgeous handcrafted fairy dolls from a friend of a friend who makes stunning sewn crafts) which she mostly just slept with but then all of a sudden, just when I thought she was getting too old for the doll world, she decided to start ‘saving’ Barbie’s from the Swap Shack (the re-use garage at the transfer station), and then she found porcelain dolls.

Mostly they act as props for her fashions — she loves to design fashions and they rarely do much else (though once in awhile the Barbie’s have been known to have dance parties in disco clubs), as she strips them of any previous clothing and sews new dresses, hats, shoes, etc. It amuses her and is a full design circle for her (from drawing, to sometimes a pattern, to sewing). And now, somehow she has quite a doll ‘collection’. I think it is a middle ground, a tiny grasp/hold onto childhood and yet an articulate move toward personhood. It still fuels her imagination, so we’re good with it.

My favorite story from long ago was from an amazing Goddard mentor of both J & I, who had 2 children. As a strong feminist, she was concerned her daughter would absorb too much dominant culture from her acquired Barbie but overheard the children playing one day, one with a dragon and one with the doll, and realized they would all be fine when the kids combined those two facets — the Barbie, after all, was always in drag.

Which then leads me to a great Patti Smith quote, “As far as I’m concerned, being any gender is a drag”. Isn’t it all costume, these personas we wear…underneath it all, we’re just people trying to relate to other people.

Here’s to cinnamon rolls as big as your head (thank you, B&T), secret diaries, learning cursive, Ted the tortoise, paper moustaches, and fashion as art.