Lessons in Food

There was a farmers' market in Boston - it was an hour's T ride away, and many of the vendors expected bulk purchases.  One girl does not need 5 lbs. of potatoes.  And oh, the number of potatoes, carrots, onions, and apples.

In my last year in DC a farmers' market opened in my neighborhood - it started at 9:30am, which in DC during August means you're already facing 80 degrees or more.  I did, however, discover garlic scapes:

They grow above the garlic bulb, can be used like tangy green onions, and then there are the blossoms:

If they're dried they last for ages, and you can use the seeds in your cooking, too.  I was very impressed with these discoveries - and after the Garlic Festival here in Gilroy, I have plans for growing my own garlic plant, complete with scapes and blooms!

In California, the farmers' market is a year-round affair.  Annie and I meet each Sunday in the wee hours, bribe her young son into the car, and head over to grab breakfast at a cafe on the same street as the market.  We take turns chasing the 2-year-old around as we make our way down the street.  And each week there's something new to try:

Lemon cucumbers!

Watermelon radishes!

English peas!

Squash blossoms!

The squash blossoms were my experiment in recreation - a favorite restaurant in DC had these on the menu, stuffed with goat cheese, battered and fried.  Annie dared me to recreate it, so I took a deep breath, picked out three promising blossoms, and returned to the Cowgirl Creamery booth for a creamy cheese to stuff inside those orange blooms.

I got home, and did a quick sweep online for suggestions, and that's where I learned that the blossoms I bought were male plants - the female plants are fertilized in order to grow the squash, which, ironically, leaves them with the appearance of male genitalia:

Female squash blossom

I have to say, I think I bested the DC restaurant.  I used a milder cheese that didn't over-power the squash blossoms, and made a beer batter with an English cider from Yorkshire's oldest brewery.

Cheesy Squash Blossoms

1 Tbsp. flour
1/2 Tbsp. corn starch
salt
black pepper w/ lavender (I keep these together in a second pepper mill)

Mix the above together well.  Whisk in cider until batter is both smooth and of the consistency you want (I made mine a little runnier than I probably would next time - it's a learning process).

Gently cram some Cowgirl Creamery Inverness cheese into the squash blossoms, roll them in the batter, and drop them in a hot pan with olive oil.  Cook until batter is golden.  Enjoy with the rest of the cider you didn't need to make the batter.  It's was wonderful.

Served with quinoa, rainbow greens tossed in a mustard vinaigrette, and spaghetti squash.

That's how I roll.

Love: a definition

My knitterly resurgence has brought about a lot of learning moments - challenging projects, the making of yarn, and perhaps the occasional leap without looking.  I've taken on a plethora of knitting projects for other people, and each one has taught me something about the measure of love.

Love, it turns out, can be measured.

Love looks a little like this:

• Five inches of mohair lace, ripped back because I found an error.  Mohair.  (And this project was finished a while ago, and given to it's intended recipient, but seriously - mohair.)
• Grey lace, knit at dusk.
• Two-at-a-time socks, converted to two magic-loop socks.
• 470 yards of laceweight, hand-wound into a ball, with the knowledge that there are three more skeins where that came from, and I still have to figure out this whole life line thing.
• A sweater, when I offered socks, and there's an owl sweater I want to make myself.  Owls!
• Double-pointed needles and complicated instructions, for something I don't know for sure that you'll wear.
• Sheer certainty that another someone will be getting a gift card, because the number of projects on the needles is approaching insanity.

And since there are people reading this who will, come Christmastime, know the lowest point of a project, I'll also add that there is the giddiness that comes with each one:

• Beauty.  And the pride that comes with both the first lace and the first serious repair.
• A delightful fabric, and a lace pattern finally memorized that's become a blues night regular.
• Two new tricks learned at once, and one discarded as less practical.
• The pure joy that comes with knowing I've found the right yarn, the right color, and the right pattern for the recipient, even if the timeline is less clear.  You won't mind if I wrap it still on the needles?
• Appreciation for blind faith in my talents.
• Hope that I've finally picked something that this someone will wear...
• Hope that another someone will like their gift card.

I'm a little stressed with the sudden advent of October, which comes with the knowledge that December isn't really that far away.  I went a whole week without knitting last week, and just think about all that wasted knitting time!  But I've been excited about the prospect of giving these gifts since I conceived of them, and the low points in each project makes each one that much more special at the end.  Each project represents a new lesson learned, and who doesn't love learning new things?

But a swift, ball winder, and set of interchangeable needles are all on my Christmas list.  And perhaps a lace chart magnet reader, since an iPad just for the knitting apps seems excessive.