Sauteed Fresh Spinach...and pizza redux!

Though I appreciate sweets, I really go nuts over savoury foods.  When a small kid I would spend my sweet allowance on Genoa salami and black olives.  My four siblings along with every other red-blooded American kid were gobbling up candy while I was nibbling at a fledgling version of antipasto.  So I never had any problem relishing vegetables, especially the marinated artichokes and roasted red peppers I added to my beginner's antipasto when I reached my teenage years.

Vegetables, especially home-grown, have a depth of flavour that is intense. The spinach I sowed about seventy days ago is now coming in nicely.

Using a sharp knife, cut the leaves off at the level of the soil.

Fresh spinach does not ask for much. Wash the leaves well in cold water, if necessary, several times to get all the grit out, and dry them very well, either in a salad spinner or with a cloth/paper towel.  If the stems are thick and old, trim them off, and either discard or add them first and cook a bit longer than the leaves.  In a large pot, gently saute some garlic, minced or sliced, in olive oil til translucent for about a minute, being sure the garlic does not brown. Add the spinach, stir to coat all the leaves, cover, and simmer for about two minutes. Uncover and stir until all the leaves are wilted and cook about another minute, raising the heat if required.  If there is significant liquid, use a slotted spoon to remove the spinach.

A bit of freshly squeezed lemon juice, or my preference, sherry vinegar, along with fleur de sel, and a pat of butter can be added just before serving. If you want to make a quick, nutritious supper, layer the spinach on some toast or mix it with cooked rice/pasta and top with grated cheese. 

We enjoy home-made pizza almost weekly so I have plenty of opportunities to tweak my recipe.  In addition to the regular topping of tomatoes, Mozzarella, Parmesan, mushrooms, and sausage, I used some left-over bacon.

Instead of using white flour to dust the parchment paper, I switched to yellow cornmeal.

I cranked up the oven heat full blast to 600 degrees F and was able not to faint--a recent spat of cool weather helped.  Also a thick, single-glove oven mitt I bought in Great Britain during my last visit enables me to take on the challenge dealing with such a hot oven.  The long piece of fabric connecting the two mitts protects me from getting splattered or getting a blast of heat.

Not quite the charring achieved by the Pros, but crispy enough.

And I never have to locate TWO mitts when needed!

The cornmeal added a nice toasty flavour, and the higher heat ensured the underneath of the crust to be golden brown and slightly crunchy.

Instead of the usual twelve minutes to bake, it took only seven minutes.  It is not called fast food for nothing!  Professional pizza makers' ovens are set even higher, and it takes even less time to bake pizza to perfection.

In the potager, almost constant rain has delayed transplanting and preparing beds for sowing because the soil is too sodden to be worked.

Seedlings galore waiting for their permanent homes.

So many gloomy days have prevented the strawberries from ripening by mid-May which is when they usually do.

However, the peas, being a cool weather crop, are happy.  Peas, like most veggies, are annuals and therefore programmed to grow fast so they can go to seed, germinating the next generation in a short amount of time.  Knowing this fact is one thing, seeing it in action is another.  I am still astonished to see a flat pea pod be almost full the next day.

Various flowers are content with the rain also.  

Cottage pink

Rugosa rose

Red, pink, and single white roses along with pink gladiolus

Chicago Peace rose, daisies, and the green foliage of asters, Japanese anemones, Irises, and Rose of Sharon 'trees'

Dayo still needs to stay indoors because of a paw injury and is showing a strong preference for nesting.

Dayo in a drawer

Dayo in the box of duvets

À la prochaine! 


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Why I Have a Crush on Pesto

Though pesto has oomph, its lusciousness remains approachable.

Fulsome, but never standoffish

It accompanies pasta well, coating each strand with its awesomeness.

Linguine & pesto

In its expansive way, it will pair with many different pasta forms.

Corkscrew pasta & pesto

At first it shyly plays its role as a garnish for soups.

Then with an encouraging nudge by a spoon, it snuggles up to everything else in the bowl.

Chicken soup & pesto

Pesto enhances omelettes as well does a dollop on hard-boiled eggs.

French bread finds its soulmate when it meets up with pesto.

Why this flurry of pesto dishes?  There was one remaining freezer container with last season's harvest.  One way to preserve basil is by processing the leaves with olive oil, then freezing it in suitable containers. Defrost, add garlic, Parmesan, and my preference, walnuts and...

Presto, you got pesto!

This time I did not add the full amount of olive oil I usually do, but instead relied on the small amount used in preparing the basil for freezing. This thicker version went better with the non-pasta dishes.

This season's impending basil harvest may look unassuming, but through time its delectable charm will develop.

In the potager, steady spring rains--fairly unusual here--has kept everything happily moist, the hose curled up, and the rain-harvesting tank nicely filled.

Peas in the centre are pleased with the cool rain,  but not the strawberries on the middle left

Cottage pinks, which would be my desert island flower choice, are prominent in the garden at the moment.  Pinks can be white, all tints of red, and yellow, and their distinctive edges have given pinking shears its name.

Red 'pinks' on the left and the fabled Mrs. Sinkins with its intoxicating fragrance in the right background.

One of my favourite varieties has pale-pink, double blooms tinged with yellow.

Cottage pinks cover the knobby knees of roses very well.

Pinks readily propagate by cuttings and by seeds if you can locate a nursery source.  Their stalwart, silvered foliage is evergreen, making it an all-year-round ground cover and edging plant.  There are many different varieties, some with delicate coloured fringes/centres and strong fragrance.

Dayo's return to the garden was short lived as his paw injury once again became worrying. He will be confined inside the house for several weeks.

He has a chance to catch up on his sleep.  At least that is what I tell him, especially when he stares forlornly through closed windows.

À la prochaine!

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Sauteed Radishes and Their Greens...and thinning carrots

Radish greens when young are wonderfully tasty.  Though they can be sauteed by themselves, their delectable, crimson roots can be included. Radishes become mild and a little sweet, somewhat like turnips when cooked. Though I enjoy mashed, buttered turnips, radishes are way more visually attractive than an off-white, mushy mound.

With its cheery green and red, this side dish would be a worthy addition to a Christmas dinner

Gardening holds many sensory delights, and tactile sensations are one of them. Radish leaves are a bit fuzzy, tickling my hands during harvesting and making me smile. Wash them and separate leaves from fifteen to twenty roots. Since my garden radishes are cylindrical ones, just a halving will do. With round radishes, cut several slices.

At the moment, the only vinegar in the world for me is Sherry.

Melt a tablespoon of butter in a skillet and saute briefly a minced garlic clove till translucent, about a minute over medium heat. Add a teaspoon of sugar and stir for a few seconds.  Toss in the radishes and stir occasionally until they start to brown.

Add the leaves and a tablespoon of Sherry vinegar and stir to mix everything together.

Too pretty!

Simmer, covered, for a couple of minutes until the veggies are tender, most of the liquid is gone, and the radishes are slightly glazed.  Any water clinging to the washed greens should be enough liquid, if not add a little water. Salt to taste, and to bring out the flavour even more, sprinkle a little fleur de sel just before serving.

Meanwhile in the potager, another root veggie, can pose a few challenges, though the flavour of home-grown carrots more than trumps any effort required, not to mention the extra bonus of soup-stock-enhancing leaves. One of the peskier aspects is to sow thinly since carrot seed is tiny. If sown thickly, meticulous thinning with its required clipped-off seedlings strewn about invites the carrot fly to come sniffing around to deposit its eggs which will hatch into larvae burrowing inside the carrot. Meanwhile you are happily walking around the carrot bed, lush with leaves, naively thinking about all that golden bounty which is sight unseen being devoured.

Mixing the tiny seed with clean, fine sand helps.  Also, after a while, the knack of thinly distributing seeds develops.  With my fourth sowing, the seedlings did not come up so thickly.

Thin the seedlings when they are about 3-4 inches high, preferably on a windless day and in late afternoon.  Clip them with scissors or using your fingers, pinch off level with the ground as not to disturb the remaining seedlings, leaving about 2-3 inches between each depending on the size of the variety.

Thinning the carrots while on my knees, I cursed and grunted in English, startling a trucker from Spain--his truck was marked with its country of origin--as he walked along the refrigerator truck depot entrance which flanks one side of the potager.  He also startled me, so we were mutually frightened for a few seconds until we managed to smile. At least we did not scream at each other like in that scene from the film, E.T. the Extraterrestrial. My noisy monologue would have been worse if not my using a gardening knee cushion. If you don't have such an indispensable item, please get one.

Try to remove all the felled seedlings.

Then cover the seedlings with horticultural fleece.  Keep watering as necessary right over the fleece and remember to check underneath for any needed weed removal from time to time.

For the last five days, I was out of commission because of a flu replete with muscle aches and extreme fatigue.  The only thing I managed to do was set out the potted seedlings each morning and bring them back in before dark. Today was the first day I began to think about any real work in the garden, like finally planting the remaining fifty seed potatoes--I had managed to plunk into the ground twenty-five early potatoes before the flu transformed me into a limp noodle.

The seed potatoes on the sill are well chitted and needed to go in the ground awhile ago

Dayo also is just recently getting back into his outdoor routine as he is mostly recovered from his paw injury though I am keeping a watchful eye. So we just hung out together while I took photos.

Precision patrol: Dayo neatly walks in between narrow rows of beets during his inspection

Dayo is pleased with how the David Austin climbing Falstaff rose with its damask fragrance is blooming

If you think Dayo is chomping on the cottage pinks, you are wrong.  He is judiciously weeding.

As the lilacs turn brown, the roses are starting to bloom. If you have lilacs but not the flu comme moi, carefully deadhead them just below the bloom so as not to eliminate next spring's flowering.

Those brown masses are lilacs well past their prime

One of the seven Queen Elizabeth hedge rose bushes

Unknown rose, but one of my favourites with its deep pink, ruffled blooms

The peonies are soon to follow.

As will the lavender.

And the honeysuckle.

There is just a hint of their fantastic fragrance in the air

Meanwhile the white Spirea and dark-pink Weigela are holding their own along with Heuchera's delicate, coral blooms.

Not to mention red Dianthus and pale-pink perennial geraniums.

Low growing sedum in the front and heather & Abelia in the background

À la prochaine!

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