We’ve both been out of town a lot lately for work (and barely seen each other, let alone got any projects done). But a few weeks back we were here, and did make some progress on the deck. We got all of the part that’s going away taken down, and a new set of stairs built.
First, we removed all the decking from the area.
Then we worked on removing the railing where the new stairs would go. It was “decorated” with a random collection of tiles glued to plywood and was quite a pain to get out of there.
Then we got the old joists and beam cut out (we decided not to save the beam after all). It really opened things up. Here you can see Jimmy proudly standing in the great big hole where deck used to be!
And finally, we built some stairs, which apparently I forgot to snap a shot of. But they come straight out from the back door, about where I’m kneeling in this picture. (You can see more awful artsy tile patchwork on the right. That’ll be going as well.)
Holy crap, fall came suddenly. And if it sneaked up on you like it did on me, you might have been surprised to see bulbs at the garden stores everywhere, but it really is about the time to think about bulbs for spring, like today’s theme, which is crocus.
There are apparently autumn crocuses (crocii?) but the ones I’m more familiar with bloom in the spring. Crocus is a favorite bulb because it comes so early, often in March in these parts of Pennsylvania if you get the earliest varieties, and I’ve even had it blooming during a warm January thaw once or twice. If it snows, they’ll close up their petals and wait until the sun is out, bless their little hearts. Crocus has thin, almost needle-like leaves (like many other bulbs, the foliage isn’t very impressive or pretty after it’s bloomed), but it’s super hardy and sends up short stalks with flowers in a variety of colors, most commonly in whites, yellows, and purples.
Tulips are always a favorite too, of course, and they range from mid- to late-season bloomers in dozens upon hundreds of varieties. (There are tulip catalogs left and right.) But the squirrels seem to like them as much as I do, and I find that many tulip bulbs end up eaten or transplanted in the middle of my lawn. Of course, you can plant in cages, wrapped in chicken wire, etc., but I just haven’t gone to those lengths to protect tulips (yet).
I also love daffodils though, and they must not be very tasty, because the squirrels don’t bother them. Daffodils are almost exclusively in whites and yellows, albeit a variety of combinations of those colors.
There are two important things to know when planting bulbs:
Make sure it’s pointing the right direction; there’s a pointy end and a root end. You want the pointy end up.
Plant the bulb 2-3 times as deep as its diameter. The bigger the bulb, the deeper it needs to go. This also means you can easily interplant bulbs that go at different depths and flower at different times (crocuses together with tulips or daffodils, for example).
Your local garden center likely has a fair variety of bulbs, but that’s only scratching the surface of the many varieties you can find. I’m from Michigan, and you may have heard of Holland, MI and its annual tulip festival. And one of my favorite places to shop for bulbs is the Michigan Bulb Company. Another favorite many folks know is Breck’s, imported from the real Holland.
So what about you? What are your favorite spring bulbs and varieties?
The eastern part of what is now the United States used to be full of the American chestnut tree. It largely died out due to a fungus known as chestnut blight but there are a few places you can still find them growing. (I read in the Wikipedia article that there are a few “untainted” groves of chestnut in Alabama and a few other places.)
Although it’s now very rare to find chestnut trees or wood (and the nuts are imported from Europe, where they have a different variety of chestnut tree), it used to be common. In fact, in the house Jimmy grew up in in central Pennsylvania, parts of which were built as early as the 1750s, had foot-wide chestnut floorboards in the attic.
No one lives there any more, and we decided those boards shouldn’t go to waste. Foot-wide lumber of any kind is hard to come by, and being eco-conscious (and frugal!) we knew we couldn’t just let it go, even though we don’t have an immediate use for it.
So we drove a truck up this spring and did a board rescue. We got the majority of those that were in good shape, but there are still a few wedged in, so we may make another trip.
While we were there, we also discovered a treasure trove of old wooden windows and doors in the attic of the barn. We couldn’t pass those up either — call us packrats.
A few of the windows are going to turn into a fancy shed for Jimmy’s back yard (probably a project for next summer, after the deck is finished). The chestnut boards are currently stacked in the garage, and someday they’re going to turn into something — a beautiful kitchen floor, maybe. We’re content to keep them until a use presents itself, because they’ll be unlike any other lumber we could lay our hands on, for any price, and they come with history and memories.
When I think of saffron, the first food that comes to mind is paella. If you’re not familiar with paella, the basics are this: it’s a rice dish from Spain flavored with saffron, and you just throw in whatever sausage, poultry, and seafood you can get your hands on. It’s a big dish to feed a lot of people, and the traditional method uses a wide, shallow pan and takes a loooong time to put together and cook (several hours at least).
I made up a batch of paella recently and Jimmy and I had our friend Zandrea over to test it out. I’d never attempted paella before (and it’s a little complex) so I consulted the experts: I adapted a method from Cook’s Illustrated. They used a Dutch oven instead of a paella pan (no need to buy a special pan for just one dish!) and part of the cooking happens in the oven (so I get to enjoy cocktails and appetizers while it’s cooking). I have to say, I’m an online subscriber to Cook’s Illustrated, and for the equivalent of the cover price of a single cookbook for a year’s subscription, it totally pays off. I always consult them for methods on foods I’m not familiar with because I know they have tested all the angles, and they have really excellent equipment and ingredient reviews as well.
So, in anticipation of my attempt at paella, we took a trip to Pittsburgh’s Strip District and made a stop at Wholey’s, my go-to place for seafood. We got some scallops (buy the little ones, they’re cheaper than the big ones and you just need them bite-size for this anyway), shrimp, and mussels. I also got some boneless chicken thighs. (I prefer thigh meat over breast in most cases. It’s got more flavor, and for that matter, it’s cheaper too.)
If you’re not familiar with the Strip District, it’s a neighborhood in Pittsburgh that serves as a nexus for distributors of produce and meats, and also has many retail locations and street vendors. It’s a great time on a Saturday morning (when it’s not too crowded — avoid holidays).
Everyone in Pittsburgh has their favorite vendors. On my list: Wholey’s for seafood, Reyna’s for Mexican, Lotus and also the no-English-name Asian place up on twenty-somethingth-street for Asian foods. Pennsylvania Macaroni Company (Penn Mac for short) is an excellent place for Italian foods and has a cheese counter rivaled by none.
(Go early or risk being in line for half an hour or more at the cheese counter.
Cross your fingers and if you’re lucky, you’ll get served by the lady who calls everybody “dear heart”. If you’re in a hurry, try Stamoolis Bros., the Greek grocery right next door — similar selection but less lines.) And lastly, the thing I never, ever miss on a trip to the Strip District, is getting a mung bean pancake made by the Korean lady at the stand on Penn Ave. (Someday, someday, I will learn how to make a mung bean pancake.)
I also procured some chorizo from Reyna’s. (This was the Mexican version of chorizo — basically a spicy, fresh pork sausage. It’s hard to find Spanish chorizo, which is a dry-cured sausage, but the Mexican version is fine in this dish if that’s what you’ve got. If you can’t find either, spice up some ground pork yourself with chili powder, cayenne, salt and black pepper and call it close enough. We’re not trying to be authentic Spaniards here, just make something tasty.)
We also picked up a tasty selection of olives and cheeses to tide us over while we chatted before dinner…
I decided some Spanish-themed beverages were in order and made some white sangria as well as Palomas (grapefruit soda, salt, and tequila — yum).
Anyway, the main show: the paella. It has a lot in common with risotto, and starts with a creamy, short-grain rice roasting in a pan. (I used Arborio, the Italian rice I also always use in a risotto.) It finishes in the oven, adding the various meat and seafood at intervals depending on how long much time each takes to cook. (In this case, the chicken, sausage, and scallops got stirred directly into the rice, and the shrimp and mussels steamed on top in the last 10 or 15 minutes of cooking.) There are also a variety of vegetables, including roasted peppers and peas. And the distinctive flavor, is, of course, the saffron.
Saffron is a spice that’s made from the tiny center parts of a crocus flower that grows in the Mediterranean. Since it comes from such a tiny part of the plant (Wikipedia tells me it takes a football field full of flowers to make 1 pound), it’s very expensive. Fortunately, it doesn’t take very much to lend a dish its dintinctive yellow color and a largely indescribable flavor. There’s really no substitute (sometimes cookbooks say to use turmeric, which is also yellow and has a likewise indescribable flavor, though one that’s quite different from saffron). It comes in little dried reddish “threads” like the ones pictured here, which you simply crumble into your dish.
The paella turned out pretty well, I think, given it was my first try!
Recipe: Paella
Serves 6. Takes about an hour and a half to two hours, but the latter half hour or so it’s mostly in the oven and you’re free to have cocktails and appetizers.
1/2 lb. large shrimp, peeled & deveined
1/2 lb. scallops (the small ones are fine, see above)
1 dozen mussels
1 lb. boneless skinless chicken thighs
1/2 lb. chorizo (Spanish if you can find it, see above)
1 red and 1 green bell pepper
1 medium onion, chopped
8 cloves garlic, minced or pressed
1 can tomatoes, diced and drained
1/2 c. frozen peas
2 cups Arborio rice
3 cups chicken broth
1/2 c. white wine
olive oil
1/2 t. saffron threads, crumbled
2 bay leaves
chopped fresh parsley
lemon wedges
Preheat the oven to 350°F.
Peel and devein the shrimp. (People always say to leave the tails on when you do this to make the shrimp look pretty, but I find that makes them a pain in the ass to eat in a dish you are otherwise consuming with a fork.) Season the shrimp with salt & pepper and refrigerate until needed.
If your mussels are precleaned, just keep them in the fridge. If they’re not, soak them in cold water in the sink, scrub the shells clean, and remove the “beards” by pinching them between your thumb and the flat of a knife and pulling.
Trim any excess fat off the chicken thighs and cut each thigh into thirds lengthwise. Season with salt & pepper.
If you have Spanish chorizo (the dry sausage) cut it into bite-size pieces.
Chop the onion. Seed the bell peppers and cut them into strips.
Get out your trusty Dutch oven — it’s the only pot we’re going to use for this whole shindig. You need a large one, at least 6 quarts or so, to fit all of this in. Heat a couple of tablespoons of olive oil in the bottom on medium-high heat. Put the pepper strips in, skin-side down, and cook them until they get a little black and blistery. Remove them to a bowl.
Add a little more oil if necessary, then place the chicken strips in the hot pan. Cook until they’re brown on one side, about 3 minutes, then flip them over and go another 3. When the chicken is done, remove it to a bowl.
Reduce the heat to medium. Add the chorizo and cook until the fat renders and it browns. If you’re using the Mexican chorizo, break it up with a wooden spoon into small pieces as it cooks. Remove the chorizo to the bowl with the chicken.
If the chorizo was really fatty, remove some fat from the pan. If it was lean, you may need a little more olive oil. Add the onion and cook until soft, then add the garlic and stir about a minute, then add the tomatoes. Cook until the tomatoes break up and begin to thicken, then add the rice, stirring thouroughly. Then add the remaining liquids — broth and wine — and the spices — bay leaf and saffron. Add the chicken and chorizo back to the pot and also add the scallops at this time. Turn the heat back up and bring to a boil, stirring occasionally.
When you’ve reached a boil, cover the pot and transfer it to the oven. Cook until most of the liquid is absorbed by the rice, about 15 minutes.
Remove the pot from the oven. Arrange the pepper strips, shrimp, and mussels over the surface of the rice (point the mussels straight up so they open upward). Scatter the peas over the top. Replace the cover and return pot to the oven for about 10 minutes or until the shrimp are opaque and the mussels have opened.
Remove the pot from the oven and place it back on the burner for 2 minutes on medium-high heat. The idea is to get a browned, crispy bottom crust of rice (although you can certainly skip this step if you like).
Remove the pot from heat and let rest 5 minutes. If any of the mussels didn’t open, remove them now and discard. Sprinkle some parsley over the top, and serve with lemon wedges and a big spoon to fill everyone’s plate with yumminess.
The first day of the French Republican calendar celebrates grapes, a fruit dear to the French people for wine, of course, but tasty all on their own. (We’ll get to wine on 20 Vendémiaire, dedicated to the pressoir or wine-press.)
We most often think of grapes as a snack food, either as fresh fruit or as raisins. Raisins often make appearances in baked sweets. And Jimmy always raves about grape pie, though I have never had the pleasure of eating a slice and have not yet attempted to make one.
I tend to love when grapes make an appearance in savory food just as much as enjoying them in sweets, however. I adore fresh grapes in a salad, and I find raisins often do nicely in quinoa, couscous, or rice dishes. (I enjoy the golden raisins much more than the purplish-brown ones. Prettier, and tastier too I think, though possibly that’s just in my head.)
But these are examples of grapes as an accent in a dish. Grapes rarely get the chance to be the star, but here’s a recipe I tried out on a couple of friends over for dinner a while back: Chicken with Grapes (with couscous and roasted asparagus). It’s a Rachael Ray recipe, and like all her recipes it’s designed to be pretty easy to execute.
I often tweak recipes as I go, but this was my first try at this one, so I stayed pretty faithful (although I made green beans instead of asparagus, because I had some fresh ones). The grapes made a great component in the dish, and it was a hit. Everybody was pleasantly surprised at how nicely the flavors worked together.
During the French Revolution (one of my favorite episodes in history), the Republican government sought to do away with many traditions of the monarchy. They were more successful in some of these efforts than others.
One of the less bloody attempts to free France from the ancien régime was to institute a new calendar, beginning on the autumnal equinox. The structure of the calendar itself is not too remarkable: 12 months of 30 days each, five intercalary festival days (six in leap years). The months are charmingly named for their seasons, as follows:
Autumn:
Vendémiaire in French (from Latin vindemia, “grape harvest”)
(The British made fun of these, with clever and not inaccurate coinages: Wheezy, Sneezy and Freezy; Slippy, Drippy and Nippy; Showery, Flowery and Bowery; Wheaty, Heaty and Sweety.)
One of the aspects I find most charming about this calendar is that, unlike the old calendar with all those saints and the trappings of the church, each day is dedicated to a plant, animal, tool, or mineral.
So, we think this is will be a fun way to reflect on the importance of various foods, flowers, tools and tasks. We’re going to follow the French Republican Calendar through the year and use it as a guiding theme to talk about some seasonal subjects. We’re still planning on house updates, random recipes, and so on, but we’d like to keep up with the calendar as well. Some days will be easy and familiar – we’re getting started tomorrow with Raisin (grape) – others will be a bit more challenging. (Will I cook a goose on October 26? Tune in and see.) As we go, in some places we may substitute some New World vegetables, fruits, and plants that are more familiar to us here than the originals may have been to the French (skirret? chequers? I had to look them up).
So join us on our journey through the French Republican Calendar. The year starts tomorrow! Bonne année!
You may have already read that we’re tearing apart the deck, for a variety of reasons. As is, it’s a large space, but it’s not very well-defined.
Here’s what the deck looked like to begin with (click to embiggen).
It’s right outside the back door, just off the kitchen. It’s large, spanning most of the width of the yard, and has two sets of steps, one down on the street side (hidden on the far side of this illustration) and another you can see here, which go down to the yard and a little side deck that holds the grill. At the very least, we knew the too-high railing had to go: it blocked the whole view of the back yard from the house.
Better already. Beyond that, Jimmy’s original idea was to keep the same basic footprint for the deck, but step down various sections to break it into several “rooms”. The porch area right outside the back door would stay as is. This would then step down to an intermediate level where the dining table would go. Finally, a couple more steps would send us down to ground level, where there would be a patio in the footprint of the remaining deck.
We liked this idea, but after inspecting the underlying support structure, this would have taken a lot of work. More time and money than we were really prepared to spend when there was a much easier solution:
This option leaves the porch section and the dining area at the same level, then steps down to the patio. This was a great compromise, as we felt it kept a lot of the same structure of three separate “rooms” but was a lot easier to manage.
In fact, we started to get ideas from our compromise. The original support structure for the deck had a large beam running the entire length along the back (the side closest to us in the illustration). We thought, wouldn’t it be cool to use that as a sort of “railing” for the patio, and maybe put some planter boxes on top?
Then the creative juices really got rolling, as we started to think about two things: a new railing, and what to do with the large vertical expanse of the porch wall?
We didn’t want a traditional picket railing — we were looking for something a little more unusual. But at the same time, we didn’t want something that would be out of character for the 1920s American Foursquare. We ended up thinking of something like this (I just drew one section here to get the idea of how it would look):
It’s a series of small, horizontal slats. It’s different from the standard, boring railings that everyone else has, but its clean lines and sharp corners go with the character of the house and its other woodwork. And, we can use the same motif for trellises and other elements — a great solution for that big expanse of wall going up the side of the porch.
So, that’s been our design process so far. I think there are a couple of important lessons here:
Sometimes, you have to compromise on a design idea because it’s just too complicated or expensive. That’s OK — try to keep the character of your design while simplifying how you’ll actually execute it.
Figure out what you have to work with and embrace it, rather than working against it. You can find some surprises that ultimately improve your design.
We’re currently still tearing apart the old deck structure, and hopefully the nice weather will hold for tomorrow so we can get some more accomplished.
Well, it’s “perfectly good” in that it’s structurally sound and not rotten or falling apart. But it’s less than ideal in a few other ways.
It completely blocks the view of the back yard from the back of the house.
Besides blocking the view, the railing is ugly and unsteady.
(Please ignore my jiggling belly.)
It’s kind of boring.
So, we’re tearing it apart.
Fear not, however, we are making use of all the wood in other ways (because the greenest thing is using what you already have). The first project is building raised vegetable beds (see the how-to in an upcoming post).
And finally, we built some stairs, which apparently I forgot to snap a shot of. But they come straight out from the back door, about where I’m kneeling in this picture. (You can see more awful artsy tile patchwork on the right. That’ll be going as well.)
