Love at First Flight: Elkton Butterfly Pavilion

Okay, so it's a few days past Valentine's Day, but it's never too late to feel the LOVE.

In fact, I am still seriously crushing on a place I visited awhile ago: The Elkton Butterfly Pavilion.

Though I adore so many towns in Oregon, Elkton is one near the top of my list. Located half-way between Eugene and the coast, this historic hometown is simply a small-but-mighty-sweet surprise. Such a muse is my Elkton, I am suddenly feeling the need to compose in iambic pentameter.

[Read on accordingly in your best Shakespearean accent.]

Love at First Flight

by one fairly infatuated farm girl

There lies a dream-like sweetly scented trail

Where time stands still amidst the amber vale.

And blossoms gently lilt to kiss your cheek

Whilst velvet grasses comfort tired feet.

Like curtains then the briars and brambles part;

Light floods the path to this pavillion's heart--

A nursery-garden, screened against the sky.

Inside, ephemeral Monarchs flutter by,

Emergent from their shells in recent hours,

Alighted o'er bouquets of nectar flowers.

How does this insect course from worm to wing?

Just there--chrysalises faintly swirl and sing

Of life that morphs from gold to green to black

Until the queen steps royally from her sack.

In pomp and glory coloured of the flame,

Bold, cape-like wings befit her mighty name.

She finds her prince; they sip perfumed milk

Hence drying their cloaks of powdery, spotted silk.

Surveying kingdoms come, they float around

O'er painted petals, brushed across the ground.

Perchance a starling, perched upon a ray

Will chirp and twitter, heralding the day

Move closer, softly, witness here his view

Of verdant meadows brimmed in blush's hue.

Then flitter o'er the hedges toward the buyer

Where native species huddle and conspire

To oust invasive salients from the land

Returning God's estate to faithful hands.

'Tis but a place for meeting a chance friend

Or chasing dusty byways 'til they end.

There, gather fleeting moments whilst you swirl

Like childhood's innocence, lost as they unfurl

For Monarchs' sunset steals such precious time

To understand life's miracles sublime

So step forth from the shadows of your life

And planting beauty, conquer age's strife.

Breathe deeply, 'neath the Heavens' sapphire light

Embracing fleeting joy from love's first flight.

Nana and Papa's Garden

Sometimes, when you've just arrived at the home of a friend or family member, and you haven't been there in quite awhile, it's nice to bumble around their house and see what's changed while you were away.

Furniture might be rearranged. Accessories might have been added. Family photos may have been updated. It's interesting to witness how people organize and display their lives, their style, on the palette that is their home. We evolve as days, months, and years unfold before us; we morph to meet our daily challenges and discover meaning in life. The insides of homes offer insights into our personal evolution.

As do our gardens.

My mother- and father-in-law have been interested, if somewhat haphazardly, in gardening for as long as I've been part of their family and, I assume, a few decades before that as well. Each time we visit, there's always a home-grown treat in the yard to enjoy: blueberries hanging heavily from the old trees, blackberries dripping off yards of untamed brambles, potatoes needing digging, and a pot or two of tomatoes adorning the front patio.

This past year, however, their interest in growing edibles evolved from a few pots here and there (to go with the perennial berries) to a full-fledged family garden. Out with the lawn. In with the veggies. This was the [outdoor] transformation I'd heard so much about and was dying to explore. Camera in hand, I made a bee line for the backyard.

This is their garden, viewed from the back patio. In a space that is approximately 15 x 20 feet, they grew enough food last summer to keep in fresh fruits and veggies all season and freeze and can a substantial amount for the winter, as well. The two large trees in the back are mature blueberry bushes that have apparently been there "forever." With a little extra TLC and bird netting stretched over white PVC piping, they were able to harvest and store bumper crops through July and August. What you can't see in this photo are the blackberry bushes to the right, raspberry canes to the left, and a raised bed of about 60 strawberry plants further back.

From this perspective, it's hard to differentiate any plants in the mass of green stems and leaves. Let's get down and dirty and look a little closer.

These beautiful, pink blossoms unfold at the top of potato plants. I think they're pretty in and of themselves, but what lies below is a sight for hungry eyes.

One errant spud has emerged from above the soil. Rest assured he has many friends, hidden, just a few inches down.

Potatoes are on my list of things to try for the first time this year. In fact, my seed potatoes are sitting on top of the piano right now, just itching to get in the ground as soon as I have time. I know my childhood piano teacher would be mortified to know that my antique upright piano is now serving more as a dumping ground for random farm fare and gardening implements than it is an instrument for producing tunes of any kind. I've read that some gardeners actually play music to their plants under the impression that it helps them thrive! Don't worry; I won't be doing that any time soon.

I turn around to spy the yellow squash. Mine are never this prolific! I wonder what their secret is. Remind me to ask them, later.

It's hard to tell from this picture, but these bush beans were so abundant that, toward the beginning of August, my in-laws just stopped picking them. Is there really such a thing as too many fresh beans? There must be, but I've yet to experience it!

Sugar snap peas, grown in pots and supported by tomato cages, punctuate the edges of the garden. This must be an advantage of the mild Oregon summers: I'm pretty sure snap peas in Southern California's summer heat are a climate-prohibited no-no.

A three-foot tall wire fence surround the garden. Its intended purpose is to keep the dog out of the produce, but it also serves as a pretty and practical hanger for curing onions. I love how they lounge, lazily, absorbing the afternoon rays of sun.

My father in-in-law also concocted a green house of sorts by securing sturdy, clear plastic sheeting over the top of an open carport. Giant peppers flourish in the warm, protected area, which is flooded with natural light.

My father-in law also grows sunflowers, but these are actually for the birds. After the flowers open and the seeds swell and harden, they leave them out in the yard through the chilly fall and well into the wet and freezing winter. The seeds are a special offering for the colorful, native birds that also call this garden "home".

I enjoy walking through the interior of friends' homes, admiring recent changes and gleaning ideas that I might someday incorporate into my own life. But more than that, I am positively bursting with giddiness as I head out back and tiptoe through their yards and gardens... just to take a peek and a few pictures.

When it comes to growing your own, there is always more to learn, there are tips and tricks to try, methods to re-evaluate, designs to imitate. Copying is, after all, the highest form of flattery! And when the end result of all of this plant-based plagiarism is both nutritious and delicious, how can you blame me?

Watch out--I may just copy your garden next.

Oregon Adventures in Sustainability, An Introduction

Although I am a native Californian, I have always adored the great state of Oregon.

As a young girl, I grew up enjoying family vacations in and around Central Point. Many of my favorite childhood memories are staged there, at the home of family friends, feeding gentle cows unlawful amounts of grain (I just couldn't get enough of it, and neither could they, apparently), fishing, swimming in the pond, and falling asleep to the noisy croaking of a million chanting frogs and the even noisier calling of wistful peacocks in the distance.

Those childhood memories led me to choose the University of Oregon as an undergrad. There, I spent four amazing years in the quintessentially college town of Eugene. After meeting my would-be husband, I did what any strong-willed So Cal girl would--I dragged him back down south with me.

Okay, I admit he may have moved willingly and entirely of his own accord.

One wedding, two kids, and ten years later, we now load the SUV and high-tail it 15 hours up the I-5 as often as we can visit hubby's family. They live in a little town along the Southern Oregon Coast. We are well-experienced in the art of long road trips with little ones [and tactics to make them as painless as possible for all parties involved]. Strategies may involve the following: an illicit meal (if you want to call it that) from McDonald's on the way out of town as bribery; a cooler jam-packed full of sippy cups of milk; blankies, pillows, and lovies galore; and for desperate measures, a bottle of Children's Benadryl. Just in case. If you are a parent, then you know that not all roadside emergencies can be solved with a spare tire, flares, or an AAA membership.

On the road, our objective is to stop only when necessary, which amounts to roughly four ten-minute breaks between here and there. We time it just right so that we roll into Sutherlin as the sun rises, revealing meandering meadows, verdant hills, rambling "cricks," and the Dutch Brothers Coffee Co. Drive-Thru window. If you live in the Pacific Northwest, then you can understand what I mean when I say that blue and white windmill signals VICTORY! With piping hot cups-of-mud in hand, we are armed with enough caffeine to make it the rest of the way to the coast.

This is a good thing, not only because we want to stay awake and reach our destination ALIVE, but also because the most beautiful scenery lies along Highway 38. Our eyes need to be open in order to, you know, see it.

During the next sixty minutes we wind down and along the mostly-two-lane road, alternating between pastures and patches of forest. Deciduous trees line the path like slightly scattered sentinels and, beyond their colorful formations, evergreen forests guard the low hills, proud and majestic. They are the emerald royalty of the Pacific Northwest.

My head spins from side to side, in a hurry to take in all of the fleeting sights that I crave: The century-old dilapidated barns with their mossy-green patina, historic yet sprightly white-washed farmhouses resting gracefully, unchanged. The Umpqua River, flowing and trembling in shallow pools as it slows near Elkton. The chestnut doe and her fawn, darting alarmingly from the tangle of wild blackberries every now and again. (They are the other reason our coffee stop is imperative.)

Finally, the river widens and deepens and darkens. We drive through a small and sleepy-ish town that once was a logging mecca, full of hustle and bustle. Now, the sawmill has been closed for awhile, and with it went many jobs and even more citizens. Still, the slow and peaceful quiet of this place is a sound for sore ears. Being an elementary school teacher and mother of young children, quiet isn't something I get very much of. That is, after all, one of the reasons I love my vegetables so desperately: they don't ever talk back.

Finally, we pull into a familiar driveway. The exhausted Ford groans as my husband pulls up the parking break and turns off the ignition. He and I open the doors slowly, checking to be sure we can feel our toes before gingerly stepping out of the car onto the rough (and usually wet) pavement of his childhood home. But we are old and slow; the children have already ripped off their seat belts, tumbled out of the backseat, and exploded--all giggles and smiles--into the warm house and even warmer embraces of their Nana and Papa.

Although my children and their grandparents shared so many special moments during our week-long summer visit, that's not what I want to tell you about. I want to show you the amazing natural places we toured and the gardens I photographed and the sustainable wedding we attended and the veggies we picked and the ocean crabs we caught and feasted on and the pie we baked from the berries we picked. They were eye-opening and beautiful and delicious and inspiring to me, an aspiring farm girl with a newly-green green thumb.

I hope you'll visit back soon so I can share them all with you. Whether you're a seasoned gardener or just a mite curious about living more sustainably, you might find yourself being inspired, as I am, by the picturesque Pacific Northwest.

Dutch Baby Breakfast

It was eighty degrees here this past week. Yes. Eight-zero.

Now, if you happen to live somewhere colder, wetter, more "winterish" if you will, please do not be jealous. I may have worn tank tops all weekend working in the garden's warm soil. But I am seriously sunburned. And I'd give anything for snow.

It is still January, right?

Anyhow, all of this summery weather has the hens confused (as well as me). You see, the ladies were down to one egg a day between the four of them. This was definitely not enough for our family, since fresh eggs have become our main source of protein at PSF. Brace yourself now: I did something rash. I actually bought a dozen eggs at the market last week. For the first time in almost a year. I felt awful. The eggs tasted awful. I vowed not to do that again for ethical and culinary reasons. Most of you probably think I'm crazy, but if you know of the joy of raising your own hens and eggs, then you know exactly what I mean.

Moving on.

So back to the un-winter weather. Since this surge of heat, we are back up to three eggs a day. That doesn't sound like too many... until you do the basic math and realize that's more than twenty eggs a week for our little family of four.

If you're not a real egg person, you might think that's more eggs than we could eat in a week.

Trust me, it's not. We like them for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. But not usually all three meals in the same day. I mean, really, we're not gluttonous... for the most part!

Anyhow, I wanted to share my favorite (and easiest) way with eggs. It's a simple recipe that you may have already incorporated into your family's food culture. My family loves sitting around the dining room table on a lazy Saturday morning, slicing the Dutch Baby in the piping hot pie pan, and topping it with whatever fresh ingredients we have on hand--preserves, honey, fresh fruit, lemon juice, or even the typical powdered sugar and syrup combo... which is not as natural and not as healthy, but boy is it good!

Dutch Babies

Ingredients:

4 farm fresh eggs

1 cup milk (I use whole)

1 cup sifted all-purpose flour (or unsifted if you're lazy like me)

2 pinches salt

2 pinches nutmeg (optional)

a hearty pat of butter

Directions:

1. Place a 10-inch round cast iron skillet or oven-safe pie plate inside the oven and preheat to 475 degrees.
2. In a medium bowl whisk eggs until light. Add milk and stir. Gradually whisk in flour, nutmeg, and salt... OR you can pour all of these ingredients into your blender and blend until smooth! I prefer the later method to achieve the smoothest consistency.
3. Remove the heated skillet or pie plate and reduce oven to 425 degrees. Place a generous pat of butter in the hot skillet and let it melt. Spread butter so that it coats the entire inside of the skillet or pie pan, including the sides. Pour all of the batter into the skillet and return to the oven. (I like to give the blender one extra whir before I pour the egg mixture into the pie plate.)
4. Bake until the Dutch Baby is puffed up and lightly browned, about 12 minutes. Remove promptly and serve.

*Note that you will want to move your oven rack to the center of the oven before baking. The Dutch Baby can puff up as much as 6-8 inches, and [I may know from experience that] if it puffs up too much and hits the top of the oven while cooking, your breakfast will not only be inedible, but you may have to pull out the fire extinguisher to squelch the flames.

Don't look at me like that!

I said I may know from experience!

This is a wonderful treat on a chilly winter's morning. Or on a blazing hot, Southern California winter's morning. It works anywhere, anytime, really.

Enjoy!

Ways with Whey

I am certain that, immediately after reading my last entry about making ricotta, you ran right to the kitchen and whipped up a batch yourself.

No? You didn't?

That's okay. Let's just pretend you did. What did you do with all of that left over whey? I hope you didn't dump it down the kitchen sink!

Admittedly, the first few times I made cheese, I did just that. Truth be told, I had no idea what else I even could do with it. I mean, it was cloudy and yellow. It smelled, um, less than rosy. It really reminded me of... well... never mind.

As time has passed, however, I've become more committed to trying to use as many of my farm-related by-products as possible (as opposed to dumping them in the trash or down the drain).

So, what were my options for that gallon or so of whey that is left after every batch of cheese?

I've searched around the web, and here is the result:

Urban Homestead Hint #3: Ways with Whey

(Ordered from Least Plausible #10 to Most Likely #1)

10. Make lemonade with it.

Seriously? Many sites recommend this. I might rather die of dehydration than drink this stuff with lemon juice and sugar!

9. Use it as a rinse in the shower [on your hair] to add shine.

Wait, you don't want to go around all day smelling like stinky cheese? Neither do I.

8. Bring to a boil, drop in a tea bag, and serve with a scone.

Uh... I'll take the scone and skip the hot whey tea, thanks.

7. Blend it with frozen fruit and ice for a high-protein, high-calorie energy smoothie.

This would be great... if I was looking to bulk up! Maybe I can pawn off liquid whey to my more physique-minded friends!

6. Pour it over dry dog food to add shine to your pet's coat.

This would be great... if I had a dog. I wonder what my cat would think.

5. Use it to boil pasta, rice, or potatoes.

I can see this option having potential, especially since you can drain and rinse the food after boiling. But then you still have the twice-left over whey to deal with, so this is not entirely a solution!

4. Substitute it for water or milk when baking.

I have to say, this is not bad! It gives your baked goods a cheesy flavor and the kitchen smells heavenly while your oven is on! Many people claim it is the key to perfect cornbread. As for me, I like it baked in Italian Feather Bread. The bread alone tastes like grilled cheese. Yum!

3. Feed it to farm critters.

Hmmm... I wonder what the ladies will think about this.

2. Pour it on your compost bin.

Now this I can do!

1. Use it to water your acid-loving plants.

Well, my camellias are already lack-luster, so it's worth a shot!

As you can see, I'm not sold on too many of these ideas quite yet. I'll have to do some more experimenting and report back.

Do you have any special ways with whey you'd be willing to share? Please do!

For more about Ways with Whey, visit the following sites:

The Prairie Homestead

How Can I Recycle This?

Bottom Up Food

Cheese Making Basics: A Whole Lotta Ricotta

I'd say it's fair to group Americans into two categories: Those who want to learn to make their own cheeses, and those who don't.

You're probably thinking, "Why would you want to ever go to all of the hassle of making your own cheese when you can hit the corner market and bring home a decent portion of cheese for less the five dollars... or spend a bit more at a specialty store for its gourmet counterpart?"

Well, for one thing, making cheese (especially ricotta) is not quite the hassle that you would assume. It actually takes less time and effort than, say, a cake or pie from scratch. Also, the cheese you make at home is so creamy and fresh, it's better than even the most expensive you will buy at your gourmet grocer... and at a fraction of the cost. Third, if you start with a gallon of milk, you will produce a much larger quantity of cheese than you would purchase at the market. Stick it in the fridge and it might last your family the whole week long.

So, where to start? Maybe with a nursery rhyme.

Little Miss Muffet

Sat on her tuffet

Eating her curds and whey.

Few urbanites know

Curds and whey really go

Hand in hand with

Cheese-making day!

Curds and whey. How many times in your childhood (or parenthood) did you recite those words, never really knowing what they meant? I think, as a child, I had some vague image of cream of wheat or watery oatmeal ingrained in my mind. Of course, that's not what curds and why are at all. But unless you grew up around the process of cheese making, how would you know otherwise? This is an example of centuries of basic human knowledge that has been lost to the industrialization of our nation's food production.

The basic principle behind making cheese is that when you heat milk and add a couple of ingredients, the chemical reaction causes the milk solids (curd) to separate from the watery liquids (whey), leaving you with two separate substances. Curd is made into cheese, and whey has other uses in and of itself. How you process the curd, once separated, dictates the type of cheese you will end up with. Ricotta is probably the easiest of all cheeses to make, because aside from separating the curds and whey, there isn't much else you have to do...except eat it, of course!

If you're just getting started, you might want to invest in a basic cheese making kit. The one I have is actually on indefinite loan from a like-minded friend who is also a parent of a former student. Upon learning that we had many common beliefs, goals, and family values, she gave me this cheese kit:

To purchase this kit, or view others, click here.

The beauty of the kit is that, in addition to containing the necessary and foreign-sounding materials and ingredients you'll need, it also contains directions, recipes, and enough supplies for 30 batches of cheese. The kit Holland gave me included a how-to-DVD, which I must say, was the handiest part of the whole experience. I turned the DVD on in the living room and watched it (pausing where necessary) as I turned out my first batches of fresh, creamy cheese.

A note on milk: I use the freshest whole milk I can find at the market for making cheese. You have to be very careful, however, not to use milk that has been ULTRA pasteurized. It will not work. If for some reason your cheese does not work the first time you attempt it, try switching brands. For example, though I like Horizon Organic milk, I've found it doesn't work well for butter or cheese.

So, let's get on with it.

Step 1: Start with a large non-reactive pot (I use stainless steel). Pour in your entire gallon of milk. Add 1 tsp. citric acid and 1 tsp of cheese salt (both from the kit). Clip on your thermometer, stir to combine ingredients, and then wait for the milk to heat to 195 degrees. During the heating process, stir only to avoid scorching. The time it takes to heat will depend upon the pot you use.

When the thermometer hits 195 degrees, the curds and whey will begin to separate. Gently stick a spoon into the pot, and you should notice that the white substance is getting thick, and that you can leave an indentation where the clearer fluid (whey) is visible. At this point, turn off the heat and let it set for 5-10 minutes.

Step 2: Line a large colander with your butter muslin or cheese cloth (from kit). Gently ladle the curds into the cloth. You do not want to just pour the contents of the pot into the colander, as the hot whey will melt the curds as it passes through. The goal is to handle the curds carefully so that they remain intact.

Step 3: Once you have ladled as much of the curds as you can into the colander, bunch up and tie the cloth at the top with string or yarn, whichever you have on hand. Hang the ball of curds to drain for 30 minutes or more, depending on the consistency you desire. Less hanging time leads to a creamier ricotta, while a longer hanging time means a drier, crumbly ricotta (almost closer in texture to feta).

I like to hang my ricotta to dry on a cup hook my husband screwed into the molding directly above the kitchen sink. If you are lucky enough to have an indoor laundry room, you could hang it from the faucet of a large washbasin. Hanging it from the shower head in your bathroom would work, too! You just want the whey to drip off in a location where it won't make a big mess.

Step 4: Take down the cloth bag and untie. Your cheese is now ready to eat! Serve plain or add salt, pepper, and a little olive oil for a creamy treat. Store the remainder of the cheese in a covered container in the fridge, where it will keep for two weeks.

And finally, what to do with the whey left in the pot? Check back soon for my next post, "Ways with Whey."

Simple Bean Soup

It's a cold and rainy evening, a rarity here in Southern California. What better to blog about, on a night like this, than a steamy bowl of Simple Bean Soup. Is there anything that warms the body and soul better than a hot pot of soup and a handful of freshly baked crusty bread shared amongst loved ones as the rain pours down outside? I don't think so. Light some candles and turn on some quiet background music, and I am in heaven.

In fact, this recipe is so easy (and creates so few dirty dishes) that you might just mistakenly think you have [died and gone to] heaven. One pot. A colander. One knife. A cutting board. That's it. It's easy on the budget and the waistline, both of which are important in the month of January at Pocket Square Farm. Go light on the olive oil and the salt to be even heart-healthier! And because you create the broth with water rather than using a pre-made broth base, you have much more control over the sodium content. I love that some of the main ingredients (carrots, herbs, garlic) are items I have in my garden year-round, so I really only need to purchase the beans (and perhaps an onion, depending on the season) at the market.

In the photo above I added left-over chicken from the night before

to make it more filling and add protein.

This soup is really just as flavorful without the meat, though.

Simple Bean Soup

(recipe adapted from Italian Country Cooking by L. Werle)

Ingredients:

1 very large onion, chopped

4-6 large carrots, chopped (more or less as you prefer; I like lots of carrots)

3 Tbs. extra virgin olive oil

2-3 large cloves of garlic, smashed and chopped

2 cups cannellini or great northern beans, soaked overnight

10 cups freshly filtered water

thyme and parsley, chopped, to taste ( I used lemon thyme and Italian parsley)

salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

The night before (or 6-8 hours in advance) measure beans into a large pot with a lid. Cover with cold water (at least 3 cups of water to every 1 cup of dried beans) as beans will expand up to three times their dried volume. Once the beans have fully expanded and are ready to cook, drain and rinse them thoroughly in a large colander before adding to the recipe when called for. Handle beans carefully to prevent breaking the skins.

Set beans aside in colander and return the large soup pot you soaked them in to the stovetop. Combine chopped onions, carrots, and oil in the bottom of the pot and cook over medium heat until the veggies are soft, about 10 minutes. Add garlic and stir for one more minute, until fragrant. Turn off the heat for the next step.

Very carefully add the beans from the colander to the soup pot, again trying not to break the skins of the beans. Add the 10 cups of filtered water, a good pinch of salt, and thyme and parsley. Cover with lid and very slowly bring to a simmer over the lowest possible heat, again to prevent skin breakage. Once the soup is at barely a simmer, set the lid at an angle and cook 30-60 minutes until the beans are very soft, checking the beans periodically. The soup is done when the beans can be easily squashed flat between your fingers. Do not cook the soup too long beyond this point, as the beans will become mushy. I made this mistake once; the result was not pretty.

Remove from heat and season to taste with salt and pepper; I like to chop and add a few more fresh herbs over the top to garnish.

Leftovers may be frozen! This soup is also good served at room temperature on a warm summer day as either the starter (as I did at Guerilla Dining 2011) or as a main dish. Enjoy!

Organic Italian Flatbreads

Flatbreads, like a frittata, are a perfect blank canvas for fresh, seasonal fare. The flatbread featured above was the opening course at Guerrilla Dining 2011, though, in truth, it was so good and so filling that it could have served as the entire meal. The cookbook that originally inspired me to make flatbreads suggested serving them alone, with just a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of sea salt, or with sliced melons and figs, which I did not have available in my garden at the time. The author of Italian Country Cooking also suggested serving flatbreads with big dollops of ricotta, which, as you can see, I did.

I made the ricotta cheese on the stove the night before my dinner party. Knowing that I wouldn't have time to make the flatbreads as guests were arriving, I rolled out and cooked them earlier in the morning and then wrapped them in aluminum foil. Just before serving, I was able to reheat the flatbreads in the oven at 400 degrees for about 5 minutes, and then my friend Greta helped me plate and serve.

Assembly was easy: one flatbread (pre-cut into sixths for easy handling), a generous helping of freshly chopped cucumbers (see blog on Kooky Cukes), just-picked green onions and chives, and sprinkles of kosher salt and freshly ground pepper. This was all finished with a drizzle of olive oil around the edge of the plate.

Call these organic, farm-fresh, gourmet nachos, if you will! I am already looking forward to June and to making this starter all summer long. It's a light and refreshingly cool treat that beats the heat.

For the flatbread recipe I used, visit the Washington Post. (I do recommend, however, that you use organic flour and olive oil... of course!)

You can also top with store-bought ricotta, or, if you're feeling more adventurous, keep checking back to Pocket Square Farm for my upcoming "courses" in beginning cheese-making! I promise, it's not as hard as you think!

Farm Fresh Frittata

Long, long ago (well, not too long ago, but back in the day when I was a fresh-faced newlywed with little experience in the kitchen or garden), when it came time to hostess a dinner party, I would sift through my brand new, shiny cookbooks, admiring the pretty stylized pictures, and I selected menus based on what I felt like eating and serving in the moment. Or... just based on what I thought I could possibly pull off without poisoning anyone or burning the house down.

Ten years and one major garden obsession later, my priorities have changed. These days when I look up recipes online, I tend to be asking myself, "How many cups of zucchini can I hide in this recipe?" or "I really need to use up some of that lime juice I have on hand!" or "What can I make from two dozen eggs and a basketful of tomatoes and basil?" Disposal--not desire--is the key to recipe selection here at Pocket Square Farm.

Unfortunately, this often results in comments such as:

Husband: "Does this make the 9th night in a row we're eating eggplant?" or

Kids: "What is this green stuff again, Mommy? Do we HAVE to eat it?"

Sometimes the results are, well... less than blog-worthy.

Fortunately, this recipe (which I served at Guerilla Dining last August) was fantastic. And, yes, it even used up those two dozen eggs and many of the aforementioned tomatoes.

Frittata is a word I would have been terrified of in my past life. However, when I found this recipe in the book that inspired my Italian Country Cooking theme, I was pretty sure it was something I could handle. I changed the recipe slightly to incorporate more fresh ingredients from Pocket Square Farm.

The beauty of a frittata is that you can choose to use any fresh, seasonal veggies, herbs, and/or cheeses you have on hand. For example, if I was planning a fritatta for dinner this week, I would incorporate swiss chard, green onions, parsley, and some grated parmesan cheese I have left over from last night's pasta. Feel like Mexican? Try fresh corn and grilled bell peppers seasoned with chopped cilantro and a dollop of sour cream. Same process; different flavor!

Farm Fresh Frittata

Ingredients:

• Farm fresh eggs (1-2 per person you plan to serve, or as many as will fit in your pan)
• 2-3 Tbs. extra virgin olive oil
• 3 Tbs. freshly grated parmesan cheese
• 1-2 Tbs. chopped flat-leaf Italian parsley
• small handful of basil leaves, washed and torn
• 1/2 lb. fresh mozzarella cheese (I made this the night before... more on cheese-making later)
• a few firm yet ripe tomatoes, thinly sliced
• kosher salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Directions:

• Heat the oil in a 9-12 inch oven-save frying pan set over medium low heat.
• Meanwhile, in a separate bowl combine eggs, parmesan, parsley, basil and some salt and pepper (not too much; you can add more later).
• Pour mixture into pan and cook approximately five minutes, until the bottom half of the eggs have set (test with a fork before you move on to the next step).
• Remove the pan from heat. Arrange sliced tomatoes and thinly sliced mozzarella cheese over the top of the egg mixture. Don't be alarmed if they sink in a little. Sprinkle with additional salt and pepper. Place under broiler until cheese is bubbly and melty and eggs are set, about 3-5 minutes.
• Check to be sure eggs are cooked throughout the frittata before removing from oven completely. Let stand for a few minutes so that the melted cheese can firm up. Slice into wedges to serve!

Although I served small slices of this dish as one of many courses at a dinner party, it would do equally well at a breakfast or brunch entirely by itself. Reheated frittata also makes a nice lunch treat! Get creative with your ingredients and who knows--farm fresh frittatas may become one of your family's favorites.

Magic Beans

If you are a returning visitor to Pocket Square Farm, you may remember that I hosted my 2nd annual Guerilla Dining experience in my backyard last August.

Yes, August. True, August is but a distant memory of balmy evenings spent lazily dining out back under the softly glowing lights. My yard now looks nothing like it did for this event [4 months ago]. Shrubs jut from the ground at sharp angles, victims of my recent pruning bonanza. Graceful tendrils and young grapevine shoots, which once wound themselves delicately along the strings of lights, now hang desperately, arthritic, callused, and crackly against the visible cords and wiring. Their leaves have dried and fallen and blown away. Beneath them, the lawn is less grass and more mud, soggy and dry at the same time. It's not a pretty sight.

So it doesn't seem right--in fact, it feels almost cruel--to speak now of summer dishes, of produce plucked right from the abundant beds and grilled or baked or steamed within hours (and feet) of their harvest. However, I really do feel compelled to share these recipes with you before I can continue down my blogging path, so here we go.

Let's start with the easiest dish I served at Guerilla Dining 2011: the beans.

These are not just any beans; they are magic beans.

No, that is not their scientific name. My children actually came up with this nickname for them. Their true name is Trionfo Violetto, an heirloom pole bean. This is an image of the seed packet I picked up at my local nursery just because the purple color caught my eye, and I wanted to give it a try. I have done several other varieties of green and yellow pole and bush beans in the past, but I am always interested in a little something new.

"Would they really be this purple?" I wondered.

Yep, they are!

Aren't these beautiful? I brought a bowl of the beans out to the dining table to show my guests before steaming them inside because (and herein lies the "magic" part) they actually change color when they are cooked. Yes, indeed. Apply just a little heat and these beans turn right back to boring old green, just like any other bean. Post-steaming, I returned the bowl of beans back to the guests to show them the difference, only to receive gasps and oohs and ahhs over the difference! Personally, I wish they would just stay purple. Isn't it so much prettier?

If you're looking to add a little more color to your veggie patch this spring, I would definitely recommend this variety. A few things to keep in mind, however.

• First, runners on these beans are monstrous! I planted them around poles that were 8 feet tall, and they surpassed the tops and kept on running! I estimate they grew to about 15 feet in height altogether, so be sure you give them lots of vertical space for climbing.
• Also, when these things start to produce, they are fast and furious. It seemed to me that the harvest was more of a one-shot deal over a couple of weeks, rather than some steadier producers like "Blue Lake" or "Kentucky Wonder." For best results (unless you're planning for a large dinner party) I would recommend succession planting over a period of about a month.
• Sadly, these plants also seemed rather disease-prone (like so many heirlooms). Maybe it's just that I'm so near the ocean, but near the end of the harvest the plants became covered with a sticky, white substance (powdery mildew?) that made the beans inedible. I had to pull and toss the remaining plants. Be sure, if you try this variety, to place it in a warm, sunny locale that won't receive too much moisture.
• Finally, if you want to enjoy the unique violet coloring, serve raw!

I will most likely plant these again this spring. I just can't resist that amethyst color. If you're like me, spending cold winter nights indoors dreaming of spring planting, you might want to add these to your 2012 garden plan!

Two Seasons Too Late...

It's been so long since I last blogged that I hardly know where to begin.

How about an algebraic equation?

Okay, so you haven't done math for awhile. You don't remember the order of operations? That's okay. Stick with me here.

If...

t=harried teacher

s= 4th grade student

p= minutes of planning time per week lost to budget cuts

o= my own offspring at home

c=a computer on the fritz

b=raised beds

h= hens/husband (Yes, I did just put them under the same variable!)

...then imagine my life lately as something like this:

4 months x [(t x 35s - 90p)/(o•2 +c+8b+5h)]= zero postings since August

You're right. My mathematics may not be true to form, but as I tell my students, "I don't really care how you do it--as long as you get the right answer!"

Don't quote me on that.

Anyways, I assure you [in case you wondered or even cared] that Pocket Square Farm is alive and well. The hens are thriving through the winter days (they've really suffered this week with all the 80 degree weather, I tell ya'), I've got an early jump on spring in several of my raised beds, and we just enjoyed our first PSF fruit harvest (more on that later).

I really want to share with you some "farm-themed field trips" I enjoyed over the summer.

I've also found some great new recipes and urban farming tips to blog about. Last but not least, Christmas unveiled many new Fave Farm Things to plug... and one new looming object of desire (just wait... it's NOT what you expect).

So, back to that original, jumbled formula.

Add in to that chaotic equation: two weeks of winter vacation (ahhhhhh) and [drumroll]...

...a brand new iMac that ACTUALLY WORKS!

I know. Sigh.

Whether you've been waiting around for me since August or are just visiting Pocket Square Farm for the first time, I hope you'll put on your work apron (or pour yourself a glass of wine, whichever suits your fancy), bookmark me, and stop by once in awhile.

This urban farm girl is finally back to her blog.