thoughts

concotions

while alone in the more quiet parts of the day, this morning for example, i find that i have no appetite for eggs fried in butter, soda bread toasted with jam, grains stewed with sweet almond milk and berries, that sort of thing. rather, trying to test the wind and light by sitting very still on the porch the hunger that stirs in me is for something vegetal, light and fleeting.

with the recent acquisition of a most excellent juicer this little house has been happy to get the necessary vitamins and minerals of vegetables and fruit without having to imbibe any solids in the middle of a scorching desert afternoon. (which is not to say that we don't eat a glut of growing things most frequently, however, it is more to keep the flow of those up when no one has an ounce of appetite....)

above is something i drink in secret, when no one can walk by, wrinkle their nose and roll their eyes and say "oh dear...you do eat such very strange things...ugh.":

celery + green grapes + peaches + apples zoomed through the juicer, cut with a most recent batch fiercely tart raspberry kombucha a crown of milled chia seeds and thickened with a few spoonfuls of newly made raw-milk yogurt.

sweet and minerally and creamy all at once.
not the kind of thing to grace the glossy face of some new-fangled-farm-forward-food publication but more than enough for a Monday morning.

treks

a jaunt up into the Wasatch wilds with mum the other day. thoughtful of our busy itinineraries these last few weeks the wildflowers have bided their time and waiting to burst into delirious bloom until now. (well...to be frank, the mountains and they're literal late blooming tendencies demand anyone who wishes to see wildflowers wait until late July at which point they are cut short only by the first killing frost or snowstorm. such a fleeting life up there.)

lovely views (if somewhat cut short by an abundance of flies) and much sun blinding and pounding over all.

more color than usual on the bridge of the nose and the cheeks which resulted in the thoughts below...

ayurveda, wabi-sabi, naturalist writers and peaches. summer ho!

as usual the mountainous summer inspires quiet in routine. this quiet, gauzy and easily stirred by changes in light and evening heat lightning seems to impose a deliberateness in how one chooses to surround themselves, both in stimuli (hopefully diminished) and in food medicine.

 ayurveda would say this is part of the natural rhythm of the world: to be entering the time of year when we are most sensitive to heat, to abrasion, to erratic behavior and light. in short Pitta time of year. and so, as with individuals who are out of balance with their pitta point of the dosha triangle as a matter of constitution, the earth and all living in it benefit from gentler routines at the moment- exerting themselves only in the cool of the morning, eating an early evening meal (no later than 7 o'clock) and bedding down fairly early. too, we should ingest cooling food (lighter or more soothing depending on who and how we are).

i like this philosophy as it is a deep-seated bone wisdom kind of thing. how frequently, if we were to put our ear against the resonance of our most grounded self, would we choose to pursue barbecued brisket with hot sauce in the middle of a July day? or a stew heavy with sweet potato, cream and warming spices? likely we would wrinkle our nose at the suggestion. instead we seek out clean, clear, ringing food. snapping pea pods and sweet corn in the finest cloak of coconut oil. fish baked in parchment with citrus; soft herbs stirred into cool cucumbers and rice; dark fruit stewed in its own juices and spooned on drift of yogurt, unadorned but brilliant. this old wisdom is so good.

what has been the largest change as i undertake to implement a little ayurveda at a time is the concept of eating a large meal in the middle of the day and a smaller one later on. sleeping is less like slogging into a swamp or blinking on and off through an electrical storm. anxieties are quelled towards the evening, set intently instead upon digestion. this kind of thing.

a lovely salad with some bracing color, implements that are sturdy and simple (lots of attention newly paid to the world around me with the new poring over of this gem) and some new reading, this is a good way to sit with summer, instead of in it.

(new acquisitions)

Hal Borland is a previously-unknown delight that has been gifted to me by a dear friend. Like Aldo Leopold (and even my favorite writer of annuals) he has broken the year down into what are called the Twelve Moons. This is not an uncommon gesture, one made by many native peoples to describe the year by each month's moon and doling twelve different names for each. Borland assigns each day of the year a different and keen observation about its natural changes and it is a lovely way to begin the day, with coffee, or with the quiet end of the day meal...

and speaking of Nigel Slater...as usual, the above is adapted from his lovely Tender Vol. II.

I made it mostly because of his ode-like writing on peaches:

"When a peach is at its most sublime, it needs a plate to catch the juice, though I invariably forget. Or is that I can never quite believe I will need one? Either way, it is usually followed by that embarrassing little noise that comes from the corner of your mouth as you try to catch the escaping trickle of juice...I like the fact that the stone of a peach contains a little cyanide, though not as much as its sister, the bitter almond. The far-off hint of danger seems only to add to the peach's exotic and sensual qualities...."

and

"A peach in the kitchen...I rarely cook a peach. They are seen in my kitchen nestling next to the crisp skin of a roast chicken salad or perhaps cold gammon or hot roast guinea fowl; stuffed with mascarpone or ricotta or amaretti; or simply nudging a few slices of Parma ham and a fistful of spiky-leaved rocket. I will grill them, stuffed with cream cheese and glazed with molten sugar, bake them with almonds and honey and poach them with honey and a drop of rosewater. Occasionally (very occasionally), I will tuck them into the cream filling of meringue with passion fruit of raspberries or add them to a salad of wine-dark cherries."

and so, wanting a salad nudged by a peach as I'm quite sure I've never had the pleasure I embarked on the dish in question with lovely results...

Roast chicken with arugula, peaches and fresh mozzarella

(adapted from Tender Volume II's: 'A Salad of Chicken, Mint and Peaches')

1 chicken breast; bone in and skin on

marinated with....

about half a lemon's worth of lemon juice

as much as you feel like zesting of a lemon

a zigzag of olive oil

a pinch salt

a grind or two of black pepper

a handful of chopped up herbs (i used rosemary, oregano, dittany, thyme)

roast at 350 for 20-45 minutes depending on the size of the breast. check, as usual, for a burnished and crackling skin, clear juices running from the knife-prick and a creamy interior (no redness or pinkness unless you are very near the bone) let this guy sit about 10 minutes on the counter to tempt anyone around with its fragrance, dogs especially. then shred with a fork.

into a bowl shower some arugula and a few torn up rounds of nasturtium leaves and blossoms if you have any about. 

add to it half a round of fresh mozzarella torn into pleasing bits (not too big, not too small)

one peach shocked in a bit of boiling water, skin removed. cut this into fine wedges and then each wedge crosswise.

a cupful (approximately) of steamed israeli couscous (likely soft cooked barley would be an excellent substitute)

a palmful of shredded mint and basil leaves

and perhaps a quarter cup of finely chopped and fiercely bright red onion.

dress this with an squeeze of lemon (perhaps the other half from the chicken) and whisk with a pinch of black pepper and salt, pour in a trickle of olive oil at a time until a lovely unctuous emulsion forms, toss with the salad bowl and eat somewhere with a lovely view, a lovely lunch partner, or a lovely length of well-written anything to make you appreciate how clean and light eating with the season makes a person feel.

cheers!

and do read as much Nigel Slater as you can, you will never feel more lovingly towards the plant-world than after reading him...

desert times

thanks to some generous donations of time and effort (and expenditures!) the residents of this humble residence took up to explore the southern part of our dear state (in ways previously unmapped) to celebrate the general goodness of being in love, having time off, wanting to indulge the inexhaustible dogs, etc.

such an equation resulted in the perusal and exploration of the quaint town (...) of Escalante (pronounced es-c'l-AWNT by the locals and/or practiced visitors from nearby) as well as the unbelievably kind, delicious and quaint services rendered by the Boulder Mountain Guest Ranch (which, in truth, should include the words "tipi" and "well-dressed-up-with-acoustic-equipment-and-attractive-moss-and-desert-plants-but-nevertheless-an-ill-disguised-bomb-shelter-slash-bunker) if it seeks to do itself justice. see also an on-site organic garden replete with earth-maidens swathed in head scarves and treading about on slightly (likely?) substance-induced wobbling legs and something called a cowboy breakfast which included a hamsteak so large it draped, stately, over the rim of the plate.

needless to say we enjoyed ourselves fully, never mind the almost-silly low rates charged to us and the very excellent broad, velvety egg noodles (made in house but of course) dressed with various things we saw snipped from the patio garden much to our gastronomic delight.)

we also undertook to trudge down into the dusty depths of a canyon that was crackling with the excessive and histrionic lack of greenness (to make it plain we were in a seasonal drought) for the pure sake of swimming in one of the lovelies, most crystal clear swimming spots known to man. (drive past Boulder, over the Hog's back and turn at the oreo rock...)

yes the equation of quietude + sage + bird abundance + tipi + lovely dinner + battling hummingbirds + cowboy breakfast and grits + extra whiskey bottle + swimming hole + tired and exhausted dogs cannot help but = delirious and grateful humans BUT we do feel all the details made a difference and we wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else.

scobing things out

at long last, after many peeks into the post box, this treasure has arrived!

above is something i am highly preoccupied with at the moment (and have been for some time.)
a kombucha SCOBY (symbiotic colony of bacteria and yeast) is a strange and pungent science experiment to kindle in the kitchen.

this "mushroom", which feeds on tea tannins and sugars, when fermented produces a miraculous dose of highly nutritious and healing medicine. it is also, and more to the point, delicious, addictive and bubbly. who can beat that? far more scholarly and well scoby-educated people than i have written tomes and treatises on the science of kombucha.


( this is a particularly informative example
this is the place to direct funds should you want to start any kind of fermenty lifestyle
and this blog (turned onto me by this kind lady) is an example of a well-fermented life and the pixies who live them. 
you can also check out more fanatics of fermenting here )


*anyway*


as i am always keen to absorb both the theory and the science experiments of the healthfood-and-somewhat-mad-alternative-food-medicine-experts i of course undertook to culture the pillowy mushroom on my counter for the weakest of reasons because the 3.99 price tag on a bottle of store-bought kombucha was fairly steep, and for the most potent because of wanting dearly to construct some sort of ambrosia-like substance that, in taste and texture, in color and in grandeur, and  in nutrition and holistic value would nourish all the little swiss-hole riddled bits of me that needs nursing. 


begin with copious amounts of tea

 stir in sugar, leftover kombucha from the previous batch (lovingly donated by the above source), let cool til tepid, bottle and cover with a breathable and highly technical covering (see also: paper towel)...

and wait! fingers crossed!

more to come.

the opposite of bon voyage

whew! a welcome return after much traveling, eating, visiting with friends and sleeping in strange places. it is odd to ache for the mundane from afar, especially when in somewhat exotic surroundings, (see below...) but that is what summer is for

it is hard to come back to a series of note-taking with so many gaping yawns of time in between. therefore it is best, i think, to sum up images when words do not suffice and endeavor to reflect back and reference gypsy-time when present and future times permit.

let it be summed up that while there was much of this...

(ok i can't really contain myself: yes, we stayed in a TIPI)

 

(pinxto boquerones)

we were really, quite swiftly, aching for this

very very grateful to renounce sealegs. hello mountain midsummer!