A Clever & Easy Garnish for Potato Soup...and dividing irises

When recently making creamy, redolent-with-herbs Potato Onion Sausage Soup, I remembered an idea for garnishing potato soup from Tumblr which I had shared at my G+ stream. Instead of discarding the peelings, reserve some for a tasty, attractive, and nutritious topping: shoestring French fries. 

If you are so fortunate as to locate a variety that is good for both soups and fries, then use them, if not, all-purpose will be a decent substitute. Scrub potatoes very well, discarding any bitter, green skin.

Lovely Prospero potatoes with their slight rosy tint, dill, parsley & dill from the potager

Use a paring knife instead of a purpose peeler to get thicker than usual peels.

Super sharp ceramic knives are excellent for precision slicing

Reserve the peelings in a bowl of cold water--to prevent discolouration and loss of moisture--and continue making the soup.

About fifteen minutes before the soup is ready, drain the peelings and slice into thin strips. The more uniformly skinny they are, the greater chance of getting them to an equivalent level of crunch at the same time. Dry well with paper towels as oil and water as you well know don't mix!

Pour about a quarter inch of vegetable oil (other than olive) in a skillet. Heat for a couple of minutes over moderately high heat. To test if it is hot enough, carefully sprinkle a few drops of water onto the oil--they will instantly splutter and sizzle.

Mine took about seven minutes to get relatively crunchy. Test one to see if it is to your liking. Be careful not to scorch them and be prepared to fish them out quickly. Blot them well with a paper towel.

The versatile metal skimmer/strainer was bought at a brocante (second-hand market) for one Euro!

Shoestring fries brings a textural and delicious flourish to potato soup.

In the garden, the colours of autumn continue to deepen and delight.

Maple, Box Elder, Aucuba, & Laurel in background, Rose of Sharon, Japanese Anemones, and Lilacs in foreground

I would have been happy with just blueberries, but surprisingly blueberry plants turn mahogany and burgundy!

Mums being supported in an old cold frame; the silvered, weather-worn wood adds a pleasing accent

The major task at hand continues to be dividing many, many, many irises. When I was preparing the beds by pulling off dead foliage and clipping the remaining leaves to about six inches from the ground, I was surprised by a praying mantis. I am glad I noticed it before taking my shears to its resting spot. Invisibility may come in handy at certain times, but one time is not when a shears-yielding human is furiously hacking away!

It obligingly moved onto some already clipped leaves. Such a cutie!

The several iris beds are four years old and need a good thinning. In our climate where summer can easily go into November, I find mid-October prime time for dividing them. In climates with shorter summers, it's better to divide in late summer which will give enough time for roots to get established before frost arrives.

The terracotta tiles should be parallel to each other, but for those pushy irises!

Irises flourish in our garden because their rhizomes can bake in the sun for many a month. So far, there has not been a borer infestation.  Irises usually need no fertilisation, though they do appreciate an occasional watering.

Though laborious to divide, Irises will reward your efforts with a profusion of blooms

Unearthing such tightly packed rhizomes requires determined and decisive spading--I held the spade perpendicular to the soil and drove it into the woody mass, slicing right through. It helps for the soil to be somewhat moist, but not sodden.

The soil clinging to the clump was loosened with a hand fork and as much soil as possible was returned back to the bed. Once the first clump is removed, it becomes progressively easier to work a crowded bed.

If you can bring a potting table close to the transplantation area, your back will thank you for the consideration. Looking for fresh growth and a firm rhizome with one or several leaf fans, I made the necessary cuts with a sharp, sturdy knife, discarding the woody centres of the clumps which were put on the slow compost heap.  Any soil left on the table was collected in a crate and dumped back onto the bed.

Gently and firmly pull out the freed rhizome including any roots

The fan of leaves can be trimmed accordingly so the division will not be top heavy when replanted, and the roots can also be trimmed if they are longer than six inches.

Let the cut side scab over for about a day before replanting, but not much later as to  prevent drying out

The distance between irises when replanting is based on a couple of considerations.  There should be enough room so division will not be necessary for several years, but not so much room that it takes awhile for the bed to appear full. I find that a foot apart is doable and additionally, planting them in a triangle where the growing part (the bit containing the leaf fan) is aimed towards the centre of the triangle works well.

I applied a light dose of a balanced NPK fertilizer as I suspect the soil could be depleted after hosting so many thriving irises. Select moderately sized segments with several roots at least four inches long. Smaller ones could be placed in a nursery bed if you are focused on increasing your iris bounty as much as possible. Using a hand trowel, make a moat several inches deep around a central mound.

Place a rhizome on the mound, spreading its roots downward into the moat and cover lightly with soil. Firm down the planting and water well. The light covering will eventually be washed away and the rhizome exposed. Continue to water if there is no rain until new growth can be seen then water less frequently.

À la prochaine!

RELATED LINKS

Pastry Joe extolling the virtues of fried foods
Pastry Joe explaining why some used frying oil should be added to fresh to ensure excellent browning 
American Iris Society Guidelines (Includes a photo of planting Bearded Irises in triangle formation)

Gratin Dauphinois...and various cool weather recipes

A vivid childhood memory from my growing up in New York City is my mother proudly presenting her potatoes au gratin--small cubes smothered with Velveeta cheese.  It was gooey, bright orange, and quite tasty. While living in Grenoble, the capital of the Dauphiné, I found out that this dish like so many others varies per the chef. The pristine version of Gratin Dauphinois contains no cheese, supposedly because the poor could not afford such adornment. Some insist on using milk and not cream. However, I will never forget our host at a dinner party saying as she gave her shoulders a little shrug in that perfect French manner, Some make this with just milk, but it is so much better with cream. Is she ever right!

Some additional tips were garnered from a visiting chef on a TV program hosted by Joël Robuchon:  infusing the cream first with a bit of bouquet garni and garlic and then simmering the potato slices in this cream before baking.

For four servings, you will need two large potatoes, 16 fluid ounces/473 ml of heavy cream, a peeled and halved clove of garlic, a tiny sprig of thyme, a few bits of a bay leaf, and a sprig of parsley.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F/177 degrees C. Put the herbs and garlic in a medium saucepan along with the cream.  Bring to a simmer and cook gently for a few minutes. Meanwhile peel and slice the potatoes 1/4 inch thick.  Add the potatoes to the cream and simmer until they are just about tender, but not yet fully cooked (usually takes about five minutes, but test with a tip of a sharp knife). Remove the herb sprigs.

Pour the whole lot into a baking dish.

Bake for about forty minutes until the taters are engorged with cream, and the whole thing is golden brown and crusty. This dish is so rich and scrumptious, I could entertain having it for dessert. Alas, we decided to serve a pot roast of lamb with it.

There was a quite a lot of green peppers remaining even after making Bell Peppers Stuffed with Toulouse Sausage/Brown Rice/Parmesan. Since there were still a few tomatoes from the potager, I made Piperade.

The very last of the tomatoes were used as top dressing for macaroni and cheese.  The Calm One makes an excellent stove-top version which includes three different cheeses, three kinds of pasta, cream, and Saucisses de Strasbourg. I spread it evenly in a broiler-proof pan. The macaroni was covered with sliced tomatoes, topped with grated cheese, and then broiled for several minutes until the tomatoes were soft and their juices running a bit while the cheese was merrily bubbling.

There is a nice amount of onions harvested from our potager stored in our root cellar so Soupe à l'Oignon Gratinée is a no-brainer.

The surplus spinach harvest from this past spring which was frozen is now coming in handy. Defrosted, chopped spinach (made originally with garlic and olive oil) is heated in the pot in which some tagliatelle was boiled. The pasta is added back along with a couple tablespoons of reserved, cooking water. Simmer for a minute or until most of the water is gone. When serving, top with freshly grated Parmesan and add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

I finally got around to growing dill this spring, but because it was a dwarf variety I did not realise that it needed vigorous pinching. Therefore they never developed into bushy, ferny plants. Instead they went to seed rather quickly. The greener the seed is, more the taste is similar to fresh dill leaf. Completely dried, brown dill seed tastes more like caraway seed which substitutes well for dill leaf in Potato/Onion Soup with Herbs, Crème Fraîche, and Saucisses de Strasbourg.

The greener seeds is a nice substitute for parsley in Linguine with Garlic/Capers/Parmesan.

In the garden, I am focused on dividing four-year-old clumps of Irises. If Irises become too crowded, their flowering is sharply reduced. Preparation includes pulling up dead leaves and clipping the remaining to about six inches above the ground.

Dead leaves needing to be removed can be seen in the upper right.

The main source of colour in the flower garden is being provided by Japanese anemones.

A yellow, single-petaled dahlia imparts a soft glow.

The orange red fruits of Lily of the Valley adds a lovely autumnal accent.

À la prochaine!

Bell Peppers Stuffed with Toulouse Sausage/Brown Rice/Parmesan...and brown rice stir fry

Recipes for this old standby are countless. What I like about this one is not only are the stuffed peppers good because of the nutty flavour of brown rice and the succulent spiciness of Toulouse or Italian sweet sausages, they look good also--plump and amply filled.  To accomplish that feat, it is necessary to parboil the peppers and cook the sausage ensuring that when you stuff them, those satisfyingly full peppers will remain that way after baking. Though I use brown rice in general, I do choose white rice for puddings and risottos. A nutritious and doable compromise is to eat fifty percent whole grains and fifty percent refined ones.

When cooking rice, I try to make more than needed for the recipe in hand, freezing the extra as ice cubes or portions with which I can eventually bulk up a cup of chicken broth--made from, yup, you guess it, a couple of concentrated broth ice cubes--or use in a stir fry.

For four stuffed peppers, you will need, of course, four peppers (medium large or their equivalent, I used 2 small, 2 medium, and a very large one from the potager), 16 fluid ounces/474 ml of cooked brown rice (about 4 fluid ounces/118 ml raw), 16 fluid ounces/474 ml of cooked Italian or Toulouse sausage (four raw sausages), 3 tablespoons of tomato paste, one or two large eggs, four fluid ounces/118 ml of grated Parmesan, 1 tablespoon of butter, and six fluid ounces/178 ml of fresh bread crumbs.

Preheat oven 350 degrees F/177 degrees C. Bring a large pot of water to the boil. While waiting for the water to come to a boil, prepare the peppers. Wash and core them.

Plop them into the hot water and using wooden spoons to keep them from bobbing about, parboil for two to three minutes depending on their size. You want them not to be raw, just slightly tender and still crisp.

Remove with a slotted spoon or tongs and run them under cold running water to stop their cooking. Drain them, cut side down, on paper towels.

Slit the sausages casings with a sharp knife and peel them off. Put a tiny bit of olive oil in a skillet and saute the sausage meat, breaking it up with a wooden spoon.

Drain the grease, deposing of it by putting it in a jar. Blot the meat well with paper towels and put it in a large mixing bowl.  Another advantage of using precooked meat is that the finished dish is way less greasier. When cool, crumble up the meat into tiny pieces with your fingers. Put several chunks of French bread into a mini-mixer to make fresh break crumbs. Dried breadcrumbs certainly have their uses, but buttered fresh crumbs often raise a dish to the next level. Grate cheese.

Mix half of the cheese with the crumbs. Melt the butter in a small pot and remove from heat. Stir in the crumb/cheese mixture till well coated.

Mix the remaining cheese with the sausage, brown rice, tomato paste. Add salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste.

Beat the egg--using two if you prefer a denser, firmer texture--and add, stirring the mixture well.

Stuff the peppers fully, packing each spoonful down before adding the next. (If there is left over stuffing, you can put it in a buttered, lidded casserole and place strips of lightly oiled green peppers and crumbs on top. Bake along with the whole stuffed peppers.)

Sprinkle with crumbs.

Bake for about thirty minutes. Test for tenderness by piercing the peppers with a tip of a sharp knife. If the peppers were all in the same state of being parboiled, most likely you will find that different sized peppers will all finish at the same time. If not, larger ones may need longer baking.

They are substantial, satisfying, and glorious. Though they could be halved vertically before cooking, making them easier to fill and take less time to bake, I prefer the scrumptious self basting which occurs with whole peppers.

The next day, there was fried rice made with the surplus brown rice. For each meal sized serving you will need 4 fluid ounces/118 ml of frozen or fresh peas, 16 fluid ounces/474 ml of cooked brown rice,  4 teaspoons of vegetable oil other than olive oil (I used safflower), a large egg, a teaspoon of minced ginger, a teaspoon of minced garlic, and a few red pepper flakes. Heat three teaspoons of the oil until hot. Saute briefly the ginger, a few red pepper flakes, and garlic. Toss in the frozen or fresh peas and fry for a minute or two. Move the veggies aside in the pan, oiling the bare spot with a teaspoon of oil, then pour in the beaten egg, stirring it vigorously until small, yellow bits form. Add the rice and over high heat, stir for a few minutes, salting to taste until everything is hot, mixed together, and ready to scoff down.

Late summer harvest is slowing down, but there are still lots of goodies to be had.

Late-season potatoes/tomatoes/cucumbers, figs and bay leaves

The autumn garden is burnished with copper, bronze, and golden tones, especially on brilliantly sunny though cooler days.

The Iris foliage will soon be clipped down to about six inches.

In the flower garden, the blue asters are coming into prominence.

The black-eyed Susan vine, both the volunteers from the previous season and the ones purposely planted in early spring, brighten the garden.

Pinks in a pot and a volunteer black-eyed Susan trailing from its cement crack onto a support

Hopefully these covering a fence will reseed themselves for next season

À la prochaine!

Dayo's Memoriam: Three Lessons and a Poem

Last Tuesday, we announced the tragic death of our beloved, gentle, and sweet tabby cat, Dayo. As we sifted through various emotions during last week, what became clear is that we had a significant, loving relationship with him lasting just over two years. I exclaimed that I wish I could have told Dayo how important he was in our lives, to which The Calm One replied, you showed him every day how important he was. Lesson learned: Actions are where it's at.

Dayo's nose showed three, vertical wrinkles when he yawned or ate, what I called his full wrinkle mode.

Standing behind the net curtains, I watched The Calm One and Monsieur M carry what I can only consider as Dayo's casket and place it into what I can also only consider as his hearse. Though the house felt empty without his presence, it was the void left in my heart that threaten to swallow me whole in its desolation. 

Before falling asleep, Dayo would always first knead for a few minutes while doing his distinctive purr: a kind of rumbling hiccupping while the delicate, pink tip of his tongue stuck out.

Wondrous qualities exist in living creatures, and Dayo had many: ability to trust, curiousity, courage, beauty, grace, energy, affection, cleverness, playfulness, creativity, and receptivity to being loved.

Dayo hardly ever drank from his water bowl; he jumped onto the sink so he could drink directly from the faucet.

The Calm One had the presence of mind to bring a two-year supply of anti-flea treatment along with Dayo's body to the vet. As he was making a donation of the medicine, a man entered the room, to whom the vet said, here, this is for your cat clinic. Second lesson learned: Pass it on no matter how much you may be locked within your own concerns. 

Dayo had many hiding places in the garden and the house.

Since The Calm One hung out with Dayo mostly in the house and I in the garden, he, stricken with grief, is found coming into a room, saying, I miss Dayo, while I am found in the garden saying the same thing to which he responds, If missing Dayo could bring him back, he would have returned a second after his death.

Dayo was always ready for a good sparring: here he was trying to attack my camera's strap. He could leap several feet in the air to give a gentle, soft swipe on the nose.

Because our sense of loss was so intense at first, plus we were focused on practical matters concerning Dayo's death, our healing was put on hold. After several days, as we live without him, our understanding deepens regarding what that means to us. Our conversation is peppered with: I just opened the linen cupboard, if Dayo was here he would be inside in a flash; It's the time for Dayo to come in for the night; I wonder where he is (which would have been followed by our searching until we found his new hiding spot).

He was a beautiful, sensuous creature at home in nature

Our thoughts also are filled with his memory: when making my way to my side of the bed in the dark, I stop myself from feeling for a furry pile melded into my pillow which I have to slide gently between The Calm One and me; when seeing a bump under the covers during the day, we think we need to make sure it's not Dayo before our lying down for a nap; when I open the fridge and see the butter, I think, oh, Dayo would have loved a bit of it.

He was as Madame M says, très rigolo (very funny) and made us laugh every day.

We are grateful for all the kindness, understanding, and support given to us by you.  We appreciated each and every comment. Your commiseration makes us feel less bereft.

Dayo loved to be picked up and would stay in our arms or draped over our shoulders for long periods of time

For those of you who have lost pets, we understand.  For those of you who will unfortunately lose pets, hopefully you will not be alone in your sadness because people are becoming more aware that pets are furry people whose death require mourning.
 

Here he is checking out a kitten on the net. When I was working at my computer, he would nudge his way into my arms where he would remain cradled for several hours. When he was very young, he would suckle on the buttons of my shirt or climb up until he hid in my hair.

The third lesson? It was our mutual attentiveness to each other that was the magic. We mattered to each other in the most basic way that transcended species; we were all alive at the same moment, linked through that connection despite--or perhaps because of--the transient nature of life. 

Farewell to Dayo 
by Hans Pufal aka The Calm One 

When you arrived you were so small
To get about you could but crawl.
Your eyes shone bright as burnished gold
And when we heard that cutest of cries
We'd pick you up like a little fur ball

You told us your name by typing it out
But not speaking cat we could only doubt
And then we noticed those four little letters
A song came to mind, but let's ignore that
Your name is Dayo, no more messing about!

It was on your first garden outing
And so much needed careful scouting
You climbed that tree all the way to the top
It was quite an adventure to get you down
But quickly you learnt to tackle anything

When cats do die where they go
Is something that no one does know
Your presence brightened every day
And this we wish where ever you are
Farewell, godspeed to you dear Dayo. 

RELATED POSTS

Announcement of Dayo's death
All my Dayo blog posts