Recipe: Citrus-Spiced Braised Red Cabbage

24 Jan

I love cabbage, that most humble of vegetables. Humble it may be, but versatile, too–and good for you, especially the red kind. With its lovely jewel tones (from a type of pigment also found in flower petals and fruits), red cabbage adds a beautiful touch of color to any meal.

This braised red cabbage is tangy and slightly sweet, featuring fresh orange juice, red wine, and  balsamic vinegar, as well as cinnamon, cloves, and caraway seed. It is a very nice accompaniment to pork or sausages, or a Thanksgiving meal–and also adds bit of zing to sandwiches. And if you are like me, you may also find yourself eating it cold, just because.


Citrus-Spiced Braised Red Cabbage

2 tbsp. olive oil
1 lg. onion, cut in half through the ends, then sliced into thin strips
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 tsp. caraway seeds
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
2 lb. red cabbage, any bruised outer leaves removed, cored, and sliced into strips (about 10 c.)
ground black pepper
1 c. vegetable broth
juice of one orange
3 tbsp. red wine
2 tbsp. balsamic vinegar

Preparation
1. Heat a large, heavy-bottom pot over medium-high heat and add the oil. When hot, add the onions and cook until soft and translucent. Add the garlic and spices and cook for a few more minutes, stirring frequently.
2. Add the cabbage and mix well to coat with garlic and spices. Continue cooking until the cabbage has wilted, then sprinkle with black pepper to taste, and add the broth and orange juice. With the heat on medium high, cook the cabbage for about 15 minutes, or until the liquid has reduced by at least half.
3. Add the wine and vinegar, and cook another 15 minutes. There should be some liquid at the bottom of the pot–but the cabbage should not be soupy. Turn up the heat if needed to allow any excess liquid to evaporate.
4. Serve immediately with a slotted spoon.

Discovering Dartmoor, UK

21 Jan

During our recent trip to the UK, we were eager to see the English moors, the setting of many a fine novel, including Wuthering Heights and The Secret Garden in the Yorkshire moors, Lorna Doone in Exmoor, Jamaica Inn in Bodmin Moor, and The Hound of the Baskervilles in Dartmoor. On our way south to Cornwall, we drove through Bodmin Moor at night and passed by Jamaica Inn, which actually exists. But there wasn’t much to see in the thick, dark, fog. Not much to see, but a lot to think about–namely, that the moors are not a place one wants to be wandering about in at night (driving through them in the dark being only marginally better). Had Daphne du Maurier’s heroine Mary Yellan been real, I would have shuddered in empathy as we passed the Inn.

On our way north from Cornwall a few days later, we drove through Dartmoor National Park–during the day. Dartmoor rose up before us, a vast, damp, hilly area of spongy, sodden ground, complete with bogs, streams, rocks, holes, exposed granite hilltops (crossword puzzle lovers will know these craggy formations as tors), and the shaggy but ever-persevering Dartmoor ponies. We stopped here and there to soak in the atmosphere (soak being a good adjective in this particular case, as a light rain was falling, gently lashing us in the face).

It was other worldly: overcast grey skies against a striking green, reddish-brown, rocky landscape–and total solitude and total silence, except for the sound of the rain and of the water in the streams gurgling its way downward. It was also breathtakingly beautiful.

  

  

Recipe: Beef Barley Mushroom Soup

19 Jan

One thing to appreciate about winter is that it is soup weather. Take a steaming bowl of hearty soup, add a crusty baguette and a crisp salad, and you’re set: both body and soul will sigh in appreciation. This soup features some whole-grain goodness in the form of barley, plus that deeply satisfying umami taste from the beef and mushrooms. More flavor comes from searing the beef and bones (which results in the rich crusty drippings known as sucs, or also in the United States as fond). That is followed by deglazing the pot with aromatic vegetables and a dash of soy sauce until the vegetables are also golden and offering up their own richness, and then continuing to build the soup from there.

*See note below for how to make a vegetarian/vegan version of this soup.

Beef Barley Mushroom Soup
Serves 8

2-3 tbsp. olive oil
1 1/2 lb. beef stew meat, trimmed of fat, and cut into small cubes
1 lb. beef bones
1 lg. onion, diced
2 carrots, diced
3 celery stalks, diced
1 tbsp. soy sauce
8 oz.  mushrooms, diced
6 garlic cloves, crushed
2 bay leaves
1 tsp. dried thyme
freshly ground pepper
1 c. tomato puree
8 c. beef stock or broth (if using prepared stock/broth, find a low-fat, low-sodium brand)
2 c. water
2 beef bouillon cubes (optional, but if using, find a brand without MSG)
2/3 c. pearl barley
1 c. frozen corn kernels
1/2 c. frozen petite peas

chopped parsley as a garnish

Preparation

1. Heat a Dutch oven or other heavy-bottomed pot over high heat. Add the olive oil, and when hot, brown the meat and bones; you want to get golden-brown crusty drippings on the bottom of the pot. Remove the meat and bones and reserve.
2. Add the onions, carrots, and celery to the pot and sauté for a few minutes, stirring often to deglaze the pot (to loosen the crusty drippings), until the onions begin to soften and turn golden brown at the edges. (If the vegetable mixture gets too dry at any stage, add a tiny bit of olive oil.)
3. Add the soy sauce to the vegetables in the pot; cook for a couple minutes, then add the mushrooms. Cook until the mushrooms have released their liquid and the liquid has mostly evaporated. Add the garlic, bay leaves, and thyme, and grind a generous amount of black pepper over the vegetables; cook for three to five minutes. Add the tomato puree; mix well.
4. Return the beef and bones to the pot, add the stock/broth, the water, and the bouillon cubes (if using); bring to a boil. Lower the heat, cover the pot, and begin simmering the soup.
5. Meanwhile, toast the barley on a baking sheet in a 450-degree oven for about 10 minutes, checking every few minutes, until the barley is golden brown. Carefully add the barley to the soup; there will be a very satisfying hissing and bubbling when you do this. Note: this step is optional; you can also add the barely to the soup without having toasted it. But toasted barley adds a nice nutty flavor.
6. Continue simmering the soup for about 30 minutes to an hour  — until the beef and barley are tender (the timing will depend on the size of the beef cubes). If needed, skim the top of the soup during the simmering stage  to remove any extra oil. Add the corn and peas for the last 15 minutes or so of the cooking time.
7. Remove the bones and bay leaves from the soup, and discard. If the beef cubes are on the larger side, you may want to take them out of the soup once they are tender and shred them (as I did for the accompanying photo).
8. If the soup has gotten too thick, add additional water or stock/broth. Check seasonings, garnish with chopped parsley if desired, and serve immediately.

Note: To make this vegetarian/vegan, omit the beef and bones and begin with Step 2 (sauteing the onions, carrots, and celery in olive oil). Double the amount of mushrooms used in Step 3. In Step 4, add two diced potatoes to the pot (instead of the beef/bones) and substitute vegetable broth for the beef stock/broth and vegetable bouillon cubes (or some nutritional yeast) for the beef bouillon cubes. Total simmering time should be about 30 minutes. 

Eden Project, Cornwall, UK

16 Jan

For a gardener, England is a magical place, full of lovingly designed and tended gardens–from the formal and majestic to the whimsical and intimate.  Alas, December isn’t the best time to visit gardens in England, but for hardier aficionados, there are many things to see even in winter. And then, for the rest of us, there are indoor gems like the Eden Project in Cornwall, which features huge covered biomes built on the site of an old china clay pit:

It was my one request on our recent trip to the British Isles: a few days in Cornwall to see the Eden Project and explore some of the natural beauty of the area. I was tempted to stop in at the Lost Gardens of Heligan (having read Tim Smit’s fascinating book on the restoration of the famous gardens there), but wanted to save that experience for a future summer, should I ever have the opportunity.

The Eden Project was a novelty, mostly because it is such an unusual space. Taking advantage of a fine morning, we walked through the outdoor gardens first, then made our way inside –to the Rainforest and Mediterranean biomes.

Here are just a few of the sights that were a pleasure to behold in December: Golden Chalice Vine, Parakeet Heliconia, a striking plant with red stems and lobed green fruits that I have not been able to identify (so if anyone happens to know what it is, enlightenment would be much appreciated!*), the unfurling leaf of a banana tree  (I never quite thought about how that happened before–it was a revelation), and finally, a lizard that almost completely blended into the background until one of our sharp-eyed friends spotted it.

*Update Feb 2014: I now know what the previously  unidentified plant is — it is a Glory Bower (Clerodendrum speciosissimum);  the third photo below shows the fruits of the plant.

  

  

Meditation on a Fine Cup of Tea

13 Jan

During the holidays, we hurtled around parts of England, Wales, and Ireland. December in the British Isles is just a wee bit grey, windy, and wet. But it was a lovely trip–not the least because at every turn,  there was a cup of tea: early morning, mid morning, afternoon, and evening. The perfect antidote to a wintery climate, the perfect reward for a long day out and about, and the perfect way to transition from activity to rest. In my admittedly biased view, nothing beats the rich, deep, reddish brown of a fine cup of  black tea (“black” tea being a slight misnomer). And there is no better way to have a strong cup of tea than milky and sweet.

Ok, there is a better way– having it milky and sweet, and accompanied by scones, clotted cream, and strawberry  jam. The ecstasies engendered among our family members at the sight of a proper cream tea cannot be adequately described. Suffice to say, we partook, and then partook some more (and then a bit more). 

All photos taken at the delectable Lucy’s Tearoom in Stow-on-the-Wold, Cotswolds, England.

Cypress Knees

14 Dec

I’d heard of a bee’s knees, but not a tree’s knees. Turns out cypress trees have knees, as we discovered when walking through the gardens at Historic London Town last weekend. We rounded a corner and stumbled upon an eerie landscape: a tall Bald Cypress tree surrounded by what looked like little stumps or treelets poking up from a blanket of leaves. It was almost as if we had been transported to the Island of Misfit Trees.

Turns out these little* woody projections are called cypress knees, and they are a bit of a mystery. The knees grow vertically from the tree’s roots, but no one quite agrees on what function they serve. Normally, they are found in swampy areas. This Bald Cypress and its knees were in Historic London Town’s Bog Garden–a very moist area, but not one that was under water (or at least not when we were there).  One theory is that the knees may help get oxygen to the tree’s roots, especially in the case of trees that are growing in several feet of water. But scientists who tested this theory found that the knees aren’t very good conveyors of oxygen, as one might expect from what is essentially a very woody stump. Another theory is that the knees provide the tree with stability. But no one really knows for sure; there is another school of thought suggesting that perhaps these knees serve no purpose at all…. Except to keep us wondering.


*These knees are still relatively little — but they can actually get quite tall.

Historic London Town, Maryland

11 Dec

Last weekend, we had to drop our daughter off at an event in Edgewater, Maryland. The name Edgewater stirred something in the deep recesses of my memory (but alas, the stirring failed to produce anything that my brain could actually retrieve on its own). Thankfully, Google provided the answer:  Historic London Town, a bustling colonial-era settlement on the South River. Today, the current 23-acre complex known as  Historic London Town & Gardens covers just a small part of the original town, but features original and reconstructed buildings, an archaeological area, learning activities, and gardens. (It was the garden part that had sparked my original interest.)

December isn’t always the ideal time to visit open-air gardens in the Northern Hemisphere, but duty called. And we were rewarded for our efforts:

Holiday window decoration, William Brown House

American Holly

Cut end of old log, Tobacco Barn, built in 1700s

Lord Mayor’s Tenement                      Posts near Pier, South River  
  

Red-Twig Dogwood                               Roundleaf Greenbrier
  

Recipe: Roasted Carrots with Balsamic Vinegar and Mint

9 Dec

This is a free-form sort of recipe because it doesn’t have specific measurements, but that shouldn’t be cause for panic. No matter how much or how little I drizzle or sprinkle or adjust the various ingredients, I’ve never gone wrong with this dish (because short of burning them, how can anyone really go wrong with roasted carrots?).

This dish is a standard part of our Thanksgiving line up, but these carrots are a nice accompaniment to any roast meal. The hot carrots absorb the balsamic vinegar, resulting in a mellow, layered flavor that is heightened by the mint. Another plus: this dish can be served at room temperature, which means you can get it ready ahead of time and move on to more urgent tasks. For Thanksgiving, I use a 5 lb. bag of carrots. If you aren’t cooking for 12+guests, use 6 large carrots and go from there.

Roasted Carrots with Balsamic Vinegar and Mint

carrots
olive oil
salt and pepper
balsamic vinegar
dried mint flakes

Preparation
1. Trim and peel carrots, cut each carrot in half horizontally, and then cut each half in half lengthwise. You should now have four carrot pieces. Cut each of those pieces lengthwise into thirds (or halves or quarters depending on the thickness of the carrot) — you want to end up with carrot sticks.
2. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spray a large baking sheet with cooking spray.
3. Put the carrot sticks in a large bowl, drizzle with enough olive oil to coat the carrots well (they should be glistening), sprinkle some salt and pepper on top, toss to mix, then spread the carrots on the baking sheet in a single layer. Bake 30 minutes or so, turning once, until the carrots are soft and browned around the edges. Remove the baking sheet from the oven.
4. While the carrots are still on the baking sheet and still hot, drizzle some balsamic vinegar over the top, sprinkle with mint flakes, mix together gently, and let rest for a few minutes. Taste a carrot and adjust the seasonings as needed (you may want more salt, pepper, or a dash more vinegar.)
5. Serve warm or at room temperature. (Note: If making the day before, let carrots cool, refrigerate them, and bring to room temperature before serving.)

Adapted from Australian Gourmet magazine.

Photo of the Month: November 2013 (Fountain Grass)

8 Dec

Yes, I realize it’s December, but November got the best of me and before I knew it, the month was gone. It wasn’t until this very moment that I realized I forgot to post a Photo of the Month for November (it was one of those months, is all I can say). So I am double cheating: I am posting now for November — and the photo was taken yesterday. But I justify this deception by telling myself the ornamental grass in question would have looked just the same at the end of November as it does at the beginning of December (or so I hope). I saturated the color slightly because snow is falling and I am feeling festive.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Unexpected

27 Nov

This photo is of something I was not expecting. During my recent trip to Rwanda, this gorgeous leaf formation caught my eye. I had never seen anything quite like it. It was a striking burst of color on an otherwise fairly bare branch. When I asked someone what it was, I was surprised to discover that it was a poinsettia, and that poinsettias can grow into small trees up to about 10 feet in height. I had no idea, because to my untrained eye this looks nothing like the potted poinsettias that abound at Christmastime (except perhaps for the red leaves). I’ll take the tree!

So an unexpected encounter led to an unexpected discovery — and I couldn’t be more delighted. The red leaves are called brachts; the actual poinsettia flowers are tiny and yellow.