the seven year itch

I took a little break from cooking this weekend, and here is my excuse, Ma'am.

After my big day of cooking and grilling and cooking and baking and cooking and freezing, I was ready for a pretty low-key dinner the next day. I threw a pork tenderloin in the oven, and got out some lettuce to rinse for a salad.

As I rinsed it, I noticed there were some aphids. There weren't just a couple, but there weren't so many that I freaked out, either. Although I am pretty much a city girl, I get that there are bugs out there, and I get that they like to eat vegetables. I also understand that this produce is all organic, and that the presence of the pests just shows the lack of the pesticides. Okay, I get it. I can just wash the aphids away and move on.

Next, I got out some broccoli. Since two out of three kids won't eat salad, and since I want them to have a veggie with their meal, I decided to go with a tried-and-true steamed broccoli side dish.

I ran the broccoli under the water, placed it on my cutting board, and began to slice. Wait, is that an aphid? Why yes, it is! A broccoli-colored aphid that I hadn't noticed. I guess I had better clean the broccoli a little more carefully. As I put it back under the running water, I realized that the broccoli was. covered. with. aphids. I wish I had taken a picture of it, looking back, so I could show you that I am not exaggerating.  I just have to ask you to trust me, though. There were more aphids than broccoli. It was swarming with the little green suckers. I freaked out, wrapped the broccoli into a plastic bag, and threw it all away. And then spent the rest of the day scratching at phantom itches, as I imagined all the aphids crawling up my arms.

In defense of AHOrganics, who are the loyal provider of the vegetables (and the occasional stowaway bug), when I went to pick up my kids from school, I ran into a couple of friends who also subscribe to the AHO box. They explained to me that there had been an email that I had missed, accepting that the broccoli had escaped, aphid-laden and unnoticed, but that they were now aware of the problem. They promise to make up for it in the near future, and the farmer is working on his aphid problem.

I feel bad for the farmer. I am sure that this is a major setback for him. Organic farming can't be easy, and to have a crop harvested, sold, and distributed, only to be tossed out and to have to replace it later, must be discouraging. I imagine it's how I feel when I get dinner shopped for, cooked, and served... only to have the kids complain and to end up tossing their portions in the trash anyway, and to still have to go back and scrub pots and pans.

At any rate, whether I feel sorry for the farmer or not, I there were still imaginary aphids crawling up my arms, and I was ready for a vegetable break. A kitchen break, actually.

So I spent the weekend doing this:

And this:

And some of this:

Until the bugs sent me back into the safe haven of my house.

adjusting the choke

It has been a while since I have written about an entirely disastrous vegetable event. I wish I could say that I am getting the hang of this whole veggie thing and that I have figured out the art of meal planning, vegetable cooking, and successful experimenting.

But then last night happened.

I got a whole bunch of artichokes in my box, and I love artichokes, dipped in yummy creamy sauces. At least at restaurants, I do.

I have only cooked artichokes one time before, and that time I pureed them into a creamy pasta sauce. Since I felt like I was starting to get into a rut of taking green vegetables, adding cream, and pouring over pasta, I decided not to just make them into the base of a pasta sauce this time. I wanted to cook 'em up and eat them with a dip. And a drink.

So, I read a few articles about how to cook the 'chokes, and a few different dip recipes, until I felt like I knew what I was doing.

One of the important things I read was that when cutting the artichokes, it is very important to put them immediately into water and lemon juice so they don't turn brown. (If you want to sound really fancy, you can call it acidulated water.) I had my pot of lemony water waiting next to me, and I threw them directly in. But, the articles I read didn't mention that the dang things float. And so, the part of the artichoke that was on top of the water floated and turned brown anyway. Even more brown that the rest of the little guys, which turned brownish even under the water.

brown artichoke

Okay, that's really no big deal, right? They still taste the same, and I wasn't serving them to anyone but myself and my husband. As long as they taste good, it's okay if they're a little brown.

But I would like to know how to keep them green. Because I am going to someday master the artichoke and serve it to friends, dammit. And I am not serving them brown vegetables.

Moving on, I tried making a dip that I found online, and which had rave reviews. It contains lots of my favorites... worcestershire sauce (thank goodness for spell check. Except it took me a few tries to get to where spellcheck even had a guess as to what I was writing.), balsamic vinegar, garlic, and more. All in a mayonnaise base. I'm not a big mayo girl, but for artichokes I am willing to go there.

Except. This dip was way way way too strong. It tasted like eating worcestershire sauce and balsamic mixed together. And not much else.

I had such high hopes. I even photographed it, hoping to be able to share the joy with you all.

Any suggestions? I need keeping-artichokes-green help, and dip suggestions. I will sit down and enjoy an artichoke soon. I would just rather not pay $10.95 for it at the nearest restaurant.

Loser, loser, chicken dinner

I'll admit, I was a little bit afraid of Brussels sprouts. All I knew about them is that they're green and no one likes them. They are the quintessential vegetable that everyone was forced to eat as a child and therefore will never eat again even with a gun to their head, even if it would cure cancer, even though children are starving. . .

You know where this is going, right? I got Brussels sprouts in the box and now I am forced to cook them. Then, I have to eat them and even pretend I like them as the good, healthy, adventuresome mother and role model that I am.

But here's the kicker. I found a recipe, I cooked the cute litle baby-doll sized cabbages, and I like them! They are mild, a little sweet, and tender. (not unlike yours truly, come to think of it). I would LOVE to see them in future boxes! Plus, they are just so cute. What's not to like?

Except. There's always an exception, isn't there?


My son? The one who cried, begged, and whined about trying the teeniest little piece of bell pepper? Well, apparently that was just a warmup. Tonight. was. miserable. He cried. And cried some more. And followed that up with some crying. At one point, he even somehow managed to fall off the chair, knock a plate down onto himself ... And cry some more.

Did I mention yet that all he had to eat was one-fourth of one brussels sprout? That is exactly one bite. and that one little bite just so happened to be on a plate with some of his very favorite foods... Roast chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy.

Well, it came to be time for him to either eat it or miss his piano lesson. He cut it in half. He looked at it and hated it some more. He ate half. Hip hip hooray!! Right? Wrong. The final half of a quarter of a cute little Brussels sprout... had him so worked up that he chewed and chewed and gagged and spit it out.

Score one for the kid. He won that round.

In happier news, the other boy said it was fine and the girl said it was better than broccoli, which is one of her favorite veggies.



Here is the recipe... And it is very very yummy! I swear!

Roasted Brussels Sprouts

3 cups Brussels sprouts, quartered and stems cut off
1/4 cup oil, divided
Salt and pepper
1/4 c. Parmesan cheese
3 tablespoons sunflower kernels
1/2 cup diced red onion
4 T apple cider vinegar

Toss the Brussels sprouts with 2 tablespoons oil and salt and pepper to taste. Roast in a roasting pan in a 400 degree oven for 25 minutes, stirring occasionally. Let cool.

In a large bowl, mix sprouts, cheese, sunflower kernels and onion.

Mix vinegar and remaining oil in a separate bowl, add salt and pepper if desired, and toss dressing with the sprout mixture.

The things I never knew I never knew

When you start looking into eating better, or losing weight, or taking care of the environment, you start to learn that they are all interconnected. There are tons of key words that crop up again and again (organic, local, seasonal, carbon footprint, natural, non-gmo, no preservatives, free trade, free-range, grass fed, whole foods, etc.).  As far as I can tell, all those words and all the different ways they are used boil down to just one thing:

Eat foods that were grown near you, eat them whole, and fresh, cook them yourself, and eat them in season. 

Here is the trick, though. I had no idea what the seasons were for different fruits and veggies! Of course, I can figure out that I went strawberry picking with my kids in the spring, so they must be a spring fruit. And pumpkins and squash are clearly fall veggies. But when do radishes ripen? Or turnips? Or grapes? At my local grocery store, grapes are available every time I am there, year round. Usually I would assume that the prices are cheaper when the fruit is abundant and the growers have to unload it before it rots. Following that logic, grapes should be cheap in July and August, when the grapes are all ripening. This week, though, grapes are on sale for 88 cents per pound. It's March. They should cost an arm and a leg, shouldn't they?  

Now we get into all kinds of topics like the fact that it is grape season in South America, and the grapes for sale at the Ralph's down the street probably came from Argentina, and why I shouldn't buy them because they traveled thousands of miles and are full of pesticides and what about all the fuel used to bring them to me and blah blah blah.  And that is why I should be eating in season.

But how am I supposed to know what is in season? The cheap grapes tricked me!

So, now I get a box of produce that was grown near me, on organic farms, picked when it was ripe and delivered immediately. That takes care of all of the above. Yay me! I don't have to worry about each individual item!

And as it turns out, the people writing recipes? They're magic! They know what is in season! I am finding recipes that help me get rid of  call for produce that is all coming ripe at the same time!

As I was paging through a cookbook a couple of weeks ago, I stumbled upon a recipe for turnips and parsnips. Hey! I have turnips and parsnips! And no idea what to do with either one of them! This sounds great! As I read the recipe, I saw that it also called for lemon juice and dill. I just so happened to get a few lemons and a bunch of fresh dill in my box that week! How did they know???

Unfortunately, this particular story doesn't have a happy ending. I made the recipe, following the directions to a T. And boy did I live to regret it.

It was.... gross. That is the only word for it. A big mess of yucky, lemony, parsnipy, turnipy yuckiness. I don't know how I thought I was going to take a vegetable that I am already overly tired of (parsnips), add to it a vegetable that, as far as I can tell, has no taste at all (turnips), add magical lemon and dill fairy dust, and get something palatable. I was wrong.

I ate three bites and declared, "I can't eat this any more." My kids? Hahahaha. Not a chance they were going to put that anywhere near their mouths. And for once, I didn't try to make them.