Fabulous Friday!

April 3, 2015

Ouch! In a good way.


Will Trade for Garlic

March 23, 2015

– Fondling the garlic clean. A most satisfying job. -

I grow enough garlic each year to feed all of Sicily, but it still never seems to be enough. Garlic is worth its weight in gold around these parts. I can’t give away even the finest specimens of my fancy heirloom squashes, no one gives a rat about my Striped Green Zebras or a fistful of my prized old timey bean pods or fragrant Holy Basil. But garlic?!

Our gutter guy will trade his hours for it. My neighbor, Sandy, calls to let me know she just needed to grab a few heads from the barn. My other neighbor (you know who you are) eyes it up and tells me a story about how his mother used to grow it and he hasn’t tasted fresh-dug garlic in, I dunno…YES! HERE! HAVE SOME GARLIC! Garlic, fresh-dug, homegrown garlic, just-like-Mama-used-to-grow, is what the people come for.

– Garlic’s cozy, cozy winter. -

Garlic starts off humbly enough: clove stuffed into ground like pimento into olive. I don’t even buy seed, but that’s mostly because I never get my timing right. I swoon over the idea of rich Rocambole cultivars from Filaree Garlic Farm showing up on my doorstep at just the right moment, but I never give it that much forethought. Garlic planting is spontaneous business – often the last thing I do before we close up the house for winter. Usually I just go down to the pantry and pilfer the fattest cloves I have on hand. Sometimes I supplement with some store-bought beauties. I’ll even buy some heads to plant at (gasp!) the Price Chopper. And I always decide to put in another row last minute – luggage loaded in the car, husband tapping his watch, fancy travel shoes on.

– Garlic scapes. Hello, wigglies! -

– Scapes. Slightly better as compost. Lots better on the table in a vase. -

Garlic is the first thing in the garden to say hello in early summer. It appears in the form of scapes, the flower of the plant that needs to be lopped off. I’ve been tempted to cook them up over the years. After all, they charge $17 a pound for them at Whole Foods, but scapes are frankly kind of terrible if you disregard all the springy romance and dear price paid. No, you must wait for garlic. Work for it. Stay clear of it. Have patience. 

– Now this is what we’ve been waiting for. -

 Fresh-dug garlic should be treated gently. In fact, the special maneuvering required between its time in the dirt and its spot in the winner’s circle is filled with more grooming, pampering and diva behavior than the Westminster Dog Show. It can’t stay out in the sun too long or it burns. It can’t be too clean while drying or too dirty when storing. It can’t be too humid or too hot or it rots. It can’t be piled too thickly or it gets a little moody and turns on you. It likes to hang out in cute, precarious places, like barn rafters and antique beams, while everyone sighs, checks their texts again, and waits for it.

– Quick! Run for the shade. -

– An antique ladder with a fan circulating just so makes for a perfect place to dangle for a few weeks. -

– It takes work to gently separate, rub and clip. -

– And more work. -

– And more work. (And a phone.)-

– But the spoils are worth it. -

There is something about fresh-dug garlic that makes me crave a roast chicken. The caramelizing skin of both perfume the kitchen after a long day of mud. While roast chicken couldn’t be a simpler meal, it’s one of the most difficult to get right. The musts for me: crisp skin, bronzed but not burnt, moist inside, dark meat cooked to the bone but breast meat glistening and edible, garlic cloves soft and squishy inside their paper.

You can’t perfectly roast a chicken until you have imperfectly roasted a dozen. It goes hand in hand with growing garlic: patience and experience result in the juiciest of perfection.  


The key (one of the keys) to perfectly roasting a chicken is the smallness of the chicken. I say no to a 4-pounder as if it were a slab of week-old fish on decorator parsley. I ask for “Under 3′s” and buy two more for the freezer. (The addition of lardo is just to humor me and purely optional.) I love to roast chicken in my mother-in-law, Mimi’s, upright pan. Mimi’s generous spirit lives on in The Muddy Kitchen – her magical mixing bowls and various kitchen do-dads, our everyday essentials. 


1 small chicken (2 1/2 – under 3 lbs)

 A small handful of fresh herb sprigs (thyme, parsley, mint, oregano, even lemon balm, whatever is on hand)

A small handful of fresh chopped herbs (thyme, parsley, mint, oregano, even lemon balm, whatever is on hand)

1 tsp salt

1 tsp pepper

4 or 5 fat cloves of garlic, unpeeled.

A few slices of lardo (seriously optional)

Serves 2-4

1. Make sure your chicken is pat dry. Sprinkle the outside with salt and pepper and chopped herbs. If you can think of it, do this step in the morning and let the chicken rest in the fridge. About 90 mins before you want to eat, preheat your oven to 425. 

2. Stuff the chicken with the herb sprigs. I will sometimes use the herb stems or even some chunks of carrot – anything with flavor. I’m always sorry when I use too much rosemary for the job – too medicinal. Plunk the chicken on an upright roaster (my favorite) or in a small roasting pan.

3. Toss the garlic cloves into the bottom of the roasting pan directly below the chicken. The cloves will soften and melt as the chicken cooks and drips above it.

4. If you are going for the illest of roast chicken experiences, layer on a few slices of lardo. Lardo is basically aged fat. Yum! Lardo is to 2015 what pancetta was to 1993: life-alteringly good for you.

5. Roast the chicken. Nothing challenges my highly undependable oven settings like roasting a chicken. A small bird has cooked in my oven both too slowly and too quickly at 425. You just have to keep close watch. They say a chicken is done when the meat reaches 160 to 175. Me? I check for juice color with the poke of a sharp knife in a few spots. When the juices run clear and the skin is bronze and caramelized, it’s done. It usually takes about an hour, give or take.

6. Take bird out. Stare at cutting board. This is when it’s all-too tempting to dive in, but it’s now time to wait. Open a bottle of wine. Make the salad. Do ANYTHING except carve the bird for fifteen minutes.

7. Carve it up. This is my husband’s job so I offer no expertise here. If it were up to me, I’d just put the whole beast on my plate and start gnawing, butt-first. Husband is more genteel. Serve the soft garlic alongside the chicken pieces on the platter. If it’s just the two of you (or just the one of you!), no knife and fork required.

– Mimi’s trusty old upright roaster. -

– The chicken, in a dainty first position, waits for its garlic. -

– Lardo. I’ll have some fat with my fat. -

– Admittedly, an optional step. -

– We wait. -

– And wait. -

– We receive guests. Don’t share wine. -

– We nibble at the gunk. -

– The egg timer rings. -

– And we dig in. -

Take your boots off before you come in here!






Hope by the Packetful

March 18, 2015

– My own private Christmas morning. -

Life seems to go completely dormant as dirt, silent as snow, pointless as pajamas, until my little packages of sunshine arrive. Seeds are happiness in a packet. They are hope by the handful. A box full of seeds means anything is possible. Soon the world will be more delicious. 

– Is it spring…yet? - 

I start dreaming of next year’s seeds each year around October or November. It is then that I make rational decisions. I will not plant stuff that I do not eat. I will not plant stuff that only grows in the tropics. I will space my seeds properly, even lavishly, so that everything is manageable as it grows. I will not get suckered into descriptions or reviews. I will only grow what Eliot Coleman grows. I will be wise. I will plan appropriately. I will exercise restraint.

 - Sikkim Cucumbers. What the hell was I thinking? -

– Who wants another bowl of Jing Okra? -

But then December rolls around and I forget all the promises of my youth. I read an article in Mother Earth News and decide that I can’t live without Supai Red Parch Corn. Maybe I should buy a pack for a friend? Maybe we could have a little seed party? Then the glut of gorgeous seed catalogs begins rolling in with all their pretty pictures and provocative descriptions. (I hate you Baker Creek Heirlooms! You and your seductive catalogs.) 

I hibernate with my reading glasses, two fingers of bourbon in a glass, and a mug full of highlighter pens. I have no restraint. Why hold back now? The kids can fix their own dinner – Can’t they see I’m WORKING! Maybe I could dig another bed?

I buy more seeds than I can plant…more than everyone I know can plant. 

– Fruit dangling from archways and beans climbing teepees? A girl can dream. -

– I will not grow okra. I will not grow okra. Well, maybe a little okra. -

– Is a garden truly complete without Mexican Sour Gherkins? -

– Such a versatile…vegetable? Fruit? Whatever it is. -

– Is this even edible? -

And so, I go for it.  Credit cards are a’ blazing. I am impulsive. I am delirious. I am a sucker for all of it. All the descriptors. All the pretty illustrations and photographs. The sex appeal of seeds. My hope for the future knows no bounds.  

On this year’s list:

Chinese Green Luobo Radish

Tokyo Market Turnip

Hinoma Kabu Turnip 

Pusa Asita Carrot 

Nelson Carrots

Lutz Salad Beet 

Cylindra Beet

Chiogga Beet

 D’Avignon Radishes

McCaslan 42 

Blue Lake 


Asian Winged Beans 

Monachelle Di Trevio 

Jacob’s Cattle

Good Mother Stallard 

Haricot Tarbais  

Lincoln Peas

Sugar Snap Snap Peas

Petite Snap-Greens 

Broad Windsor Fava


Emily Basil

 Wild Zaatar Oregano


 Holy Kaprao Basil

Slo-Bolt Cilantro

Parsley (Giant of Italy)



Dwarf Nasturtium

 Violet Bowles Black Pansy

 Canton Bok Choy

 Famosa Cabbage

Beira Kale

Diablo Brussels Sprout

 Atlantic Broccoli  

Freckles Lettuce

 Surrey Greens 

 Green Towers 



Little Gem


Red Romaine

Red Veined Sorrel


Mixed Radicchio

Mixed Escarole

Chicory Bianco

Rhodos Frisse

Purplette Onion

West Indian Burr Gherkin

Parisian Pickling

 Northern Pickling

Patisson Strie MeLange

Costata Romanesco

Early Crookneck

Zucchino Rampicante 

Winter Luxury Pie

Bush Buttercup

Marino di Chioggia

Sibley Squash

Hawaiian Dance Mask

Big Apple Gourd

Bule Gourd

Eagle Pass Okra

Supai Red Parch Corn

Pink Okra

Aunt Molly Ground Cherry


– See you in a few months! -

Take your boots off before you come in here!


Verbless VVednesdays

April 23, 2014

Spring nubbins.


Seed Tape: A Neurotic Vegetable Gardener’s Drug of Choice

April 20, 2014

I do not mind a messy sock drawer, I can leave a bed unmade for days, I discard rejected outfits at the foot of my bed like a petulant teenager, and I have gotten a ‘talking to’ from Mr. Muddy Kitchen on more than one occasion for a used strand of dental floss hardened onto [...]

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Verbless VVednesdays

July 24, 2013

My little friends!

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Little Fried Things

July 22, 2013

I’m no snob when it comes to fried stuff; I like it all. The crispy bits at the bottom of a barrel of KFC. The browned edges of a pancake that’s been cooked in too much oil (Oops, how did that happen?). A chunk of golden bread on the end of a skewer fresh from [...]

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From Juice to Jowl

July 18, 2013

Every morning I make and drink juice. Not the O.J. sweet-as-sunshine brunch-y sort, but the kale-cucumber-apple-beet-parsley-mint sort (K.C.A.B.P.M.J.). Green juices are super trendy and juice drinkers are fanatics about the health benefits of its live enzymes, phytonutrients, antioxidants, biophotons and cornucopia of nutrients that increase the mirco-electric potential of the cells yada yada, but I [...]

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