October in Review

October seems to have gotten away from me—there were many things I meant to post about, but somehow never got around to it.


It was a beautiful month, sunny and dry, until it wasn't (more about that in a minute). I got the kids to walk through our woods a few times and we even went on a family hike once (I have mentioned how no one likes to leave the house, haven't I?). Unfortunately, I didn't take along my camera for documentary evidence.

E and Z and I did a Van Gogh art project, with various interpretations of what that meant.

And we all made tie-died t-shirts, which is so much easier now, with squirt-bottles of concentrated dyes, than last time I tried it, 30 years ago, with dipping shirts in and out of buckets of watery Rit.

C and I did our best to wrangle the last of the garden produce. He made several large batches of tomatillo salsa and I boiled or roasted the rest of the tomatillos and froze them for winter cooking.


With the last of the VERY LARGE harvest of chile peppers (jalapeño and habanero), I made hot pepper jellies, hot sauces, roasted and frozen peppers, and dried peppers. That was a lot of peppers.



With the end of the month came a crazy wind-and-rain storm, which knocked power out for most of the state, littered roads with fallen trees and downed power lines, and drove most of the leaves off the trees (though the beech and oak hung on tight).


The upshot for us was NO SCHOOL for this whole week, with power out almost everywhere (except, thank you sun and solar panels and batteries, our house) and roads too hazardous for buses to pass through.

Three people in our house were pretty psyched about this development. I even got into the spirit of it for the first couple of days, playing Snow Day, baking cinnamon rolls and watching movies, but a whole week with a houseful of kids (and no internet) put a serious dent in my work flow.



Despite calls here and there to postpone Halloween until Friday (to which we said "Phooey"), we braved the dark and tree-littered streets to make our usual trick-or-treat rounds.



Our usual hay wagon being unavailable, we made do with C's work truck, which worked out nicely, as grown-ups got to sit inside for once (although it was such a mild night, it wouldn't have been bad to be in a trailer).



The power outages and candle-lit homes made for an extra-spooky Halloween-i-ness, and I think people appreciated a diversion from sitting around in their dark houses, listening to their generators run. And I think the kids appreciated being part of a lower-than-normal turnout that led to even more candy in their buckets than usual.

Wild Wednesday ~ Violet Jelly

Because I'm the decider around here, I'm calling this a Wild Wednesday post because violets are wild flowers. I suppose I could start another series, called Foraging Friday, but that would call for a whole 'nother level of commitment that I'm not quite prepared for.

We seem to have had a bumper crop of violets this year, and, because I've let go of most of my domestic urges, I was perfectly happy to enjoy the sign of them without feeling like I had to do anything with them. On at least a couple of occasions in the past, I've made violet jam or jelly, and on even more occasions, I've felt like I should make violet jam or jelly, but haven't had the time or energy. So it was nice to see them and smile and just be happy to live in a world covered in violets. And then the very next day, E said, "Let's make violet jam!"

Because it was his idea, I tried to get E to pick the violets, but he didn't have much stamina on a day when it was too hot for his taste (his preferred temperature range is about 64-66 degrees) and the back flies were out in force. I picked a few, but I'm no good at tedious manual labor. Finally, when I pointed out that the neighbor would soon mow his field, along with our violets, Z went on an expedition and brought back a cupful. So I scaled the recipe back by two-thirds (seriously, who is going to pick three cups of violets???).

I let the violets steep for most of a day, and they turned the water a weird and wonderful ice-blue color, which instantly changes to magenta when mixed with lemon juice.



The jelly was pretty easy to make, once the violets were picked (turns out, jelly with pectin cooks for far less time than pectin-free jam). It's also beautiful and tastes nice, but not especially like violets. C and I cam to the conclusion that all jellies are really just sugar-flavored, with the fruit (or flowers) used as a colorant.

Thirty-Minute Almost-No-Sew Bandana Bunting

We had some friends over for Mexican food this past weekend, and I wanted to make a special decoration to make the house festive. In the past, I've bought papel de picado—those beautiful punched-paper flags—but they get faded and tattered very quickly (especially when you have kids who shoot them with Nerf bullets), and then they look sad and you feel bad wadding them up in the recycle bin. So I thought I'd make something almost as festive and much less expensive and more durable—a bandana bunting.



To make your own bunting, determine how many flags you want your bunting to have, divide by four, and purchase that number of bandanas in the colors of your choice. I wanted a 12-flag bunting so I bought three bandanas.

I had a very specific color scheme in mind—yellow, orange, green—and unfortunately my usual bandana source didn't have any of those colors, so I bought some instead at the craft store. They're not quite as nice of quality, either in color, the printing of the design, or the squareness of the bandana, but they served the purpose.



Step 1. Iron the bandanas.


Step 2. Cut them into quarters.

For each bandana you started with, you'll end up with four equal squares.



Step 3. Place a bandana square on the ironing board in front of you, wrong side up, and turn it 45 degrees so that the two finished sides come to a point at the bottom and the two cut sides come to a point at the top. Fold the finished sides toward the center and press.

Step 4. Open the sides back up and fold the top down even with the tops of the side folds and press (You could also cut the top off, but pressing seemed easier to me.)


Step 5. Fold the sides back in. Now you have a triangle.

Repeat with the remaining bandana squares. So far no sew.

Now comes the time to put your bunting together. This is the only sewing part, although you could use pins, fabric tape, or glue. Double-fold bias tape would be ideal for the string part of the bunting (what is that? garland?), so that you can fold it over the raw edge at the top of the each flag. The craft store did not have any bias tape so I bought ribbon instead (a 5-yard spool). I thought I might be able fold the ribbon, but it was too narrow. It occurred to me belatedly that I could have bought two ribbons, one for the front and one for the back to give it a more finished edge on the back side, but I think it's fine how it is. 

Step 5. Figure out how you want your flags spaced on the ribbon. I could probably have used math to do this, but instead I laid the ribbon out on the floor and lined the flags up in a pleasing arrangement. They ended up about 3 inches apart with about a foot-and-a-half or two feet of extra ribbon on each end. Pin flags in place and sew (or tape or glue).

A few guests requested recipes from the dishes I made. Almost everything came from Rick Bayless's Mexico—One Plate at a Time cookbook (including the gorgeous flan M made with my help—a first time making flan for both of us and it came out perfect). I found a couple of recipes on his web page:

Chipotle chicken salad tacos
Mexican-style zucchini tacos

One dish I did NOT use a recipe for was the cheese enchiladas—for those I just rolled up grated cheddar in corn tortillas, laid them in a baking dish, topped with a magic secret ingredient, sprinkled on more cheese and baked until melty and bubbly.

Not-Quite-Perfect Peppermint Bark

For a few years now, I've been working on perfecting my peppermint bark recipe, with the twinned goals of deliciousness and minimal labor. I thought I had the formula just right this time:

• 2 bars Green & Black's white chocolate
• 2 bars Green & Black's mint chocolate 
• small package Annie's chocolate bunny grahams
• a couple of scoops of tiny peppermint candies from the candy store

Unfortunately, I ran into a couple of problems when assembling my ingredients:

• The grocery store did not have G&B's white chocolate, so I had to buy the much more expensive bars at the health food store.
• I accidentally bought dark chocolate rather than mint chocolate
• I couldn't find chocolate bunny grahams anywhere and had to settle for Newman's Own chocolate alphabet cookies, which contain palm oil and left me feeling guilty about the rain forests
• the peppermint candies from the candy store were not as tiny as I had remembered

Undeterred by these setbacks, I forged ahead. My first time-saving plan was to break up the first bar of white chocolate and melt it on the pan in the oven. I pictured the pieces getting all soft and gooey, and easily spread with a spatula. Unfortunately, they turned brown and crunchy and not at all melty.

Not willing to waste that pricey bar of white chocolate,  I transferred the brown chunks to a hot water bath and added a couple scoops of coconut oil to help smooth out the mixture as it melted.


I then smashed up a couple tablespoons of the not-quite-small-enough-to-use-whole peppermint candies and added them to the white chocolate to help disguise the brown color, and spread it all on a sheet of parchment and placed the pan outside in the cold to firm up.

I then placed both chocolate bars in a hot water bath and Z helped me bash up the cookies, right in the bag (with a small hole to let out air) with a hammer. I added several drops of mint flavor to the melted chocolate (a step I could have skipped had I bought the mint bars) as well as the cookie crumbs, spread the whole mixture over the first layer of light brown white chocolate, and placed the tray back outside.

Then I melted the last bar of white chocolate (in a hot water bath, having learned my lesson), added a few more spoonfuls of crushed peppermints, and spread it over the hardened chocolate layer. Over the top, I sprinkled more mint candies, not bothering to smash those up, which I think might have been a mistake, because the final result is a lot for the teeth to handle.

I placed the tray outside one last time for a few minutes and then transferred it to the refrigerator while we all went to go see Fantastic Beasts. When we got home, I broke the bark into hunks and squirreled it away for holiday season munching.

And the best part about the bark being not-quite-perfect? We'll have to eat it all ourselves, in the privacy of our home, where no one else can see the brown layer, or break a tooth on the over-large peppermint bits, or notice how the chocolate cookies end up a little more soggy and less crunchy than the bunny grahams would have.

Weekend Things ~ Chili-in'

Way back a month or so ago, after our first frost, I picked all of the chili peppers off the plants, cooked the few poblanos that made it to maturity into chile rellenos, and stuffed the rest in a bag. C used quite a few in making salsa, but the rest, we just kind of forgot about, ignored.

Once in a while, one of us would say, "We should do something about those chiles," and the other would agree, and then nothing would happen. Then this weekend, C pointed out to me that they were starting to rot, and the crisis that I usually require for action spurred me on. 

I sorted out the still good chiles from the nasty ones and had enough to make two jars of pickled jalapeños, using Catherine Newman's brilliant refrigerator pickle anything recipe. I had some brine left over, so I threw a bunch of mini rainbow carrots in a jar and pickled them, too.

The rest of not-rotten chiles, which are a different variety (I'm not sure what), were already starting to whither a bit, so I strung them up to dry.

I suppose the crisis-response method of food preservation is not the most efficient, and it's fairly wasteful (oh, those sad chilis I had to throw away), but sometimes it's what's needed to get the job done.

Happenings ~ Everything But the Kitchen Sink

I've taken a little unplanned break from blogging--and reading blogs and social media in general--partly because we've had a lot going on (appointments and events and rescheduling) and partly because sometimes I just need to step back from the "Another Perfectly Perfect Day in My Perfect Life" vibe that bloglandia sometimes projects. I know that I run in danger of projecting the same vibe, and so know it's not reality, or intention, but sometimes my self-esteem just needs a  little time away.

While I was out, we had a party. A big, wild fiesta. My friend Tina came over and helped me make a mountain of tamales, and we also cooked up enchiladas, quesadillas, black beans, red tomato rice, guacamole, and Mexican chocolate cupcakes. And mixed up Margaritas, of which I may have imbibed a little too liberally (note to self for next year: more lime juice, less tequila).

I didn't take any pictures before or during the party (which I guess is a sign I was having too good a time), but the next day, I took a few of our decorations--papel picado (which I'm keeping up in our living room until they fall apart) and a couple of my Southwestern tablecloths (let's face it, at least 25% of the motivation for a fiesta is to display my tablecloth collection--another 25% to cook and eat really good Mexican food and 50% to enjoy time with friends and lift spirits in the middle of a long, cold winter).

In other news, I registered M for high school last week. And I don't even feel the tiniest bit weepy or nostalgic about it. He outgrew his little K-8 school long ago, and I'm so looking forward to seeing him stretch his wings in an environment that will offer new challenges and opportunities. It's been a rocky road to get to this point--our town does not have a high school and so we have the choice of at least six area schools, each of which is almost exactly the same distance (a 25-minute drive) from our home. M's first choice was in the exact opposite direction from where I work, with no bus to our town, while my first choice is roughly ten miles out of the way of my office and has a bus that stops at the end of our road. I played the "I'm the mom and I know what's best" card. This has been really the only source of conflict between M and me since he became a teenager (knock on wood), but I think he's finally come around, or at least resigned himself. It's really a wonderful school and, like I said, I'm excited for him to move on.

I also finished E's replacement mitten before February ran out, which means I don't have to count a tiny heart as my February knit. I threw it in with several loads of wash and got it to kind-of, sort-of felt. We have a front-loading washer, which does not do a very good job of felting (though it has managed to shrink a couple of hand-knits that accidentally got tossed in with the laundry). I'm hoping that if E wears it in enough wet snow, it will shrink naturally.

We got our first harvest from this cool oyster mushroom growing kit we got for Christmas. We've been patiently moving it around the house, trying to find the optimal growing place (turns out ignoring it in the basement in bright sun did the trick). The harvest was small, but that's a good thing in this family where 3-4 people out of five hate mushrooms. In looking for recipes, I learned that oyster mushrooms are among the most widely-cultivated, however recipes were hard to find (though there were numerous recipes for mushrooms plus oysters, which sounds revolting), so I just sautéed them with a little butter and salt and put them on toasted baguette, which was delicious.

Over the weekend, I also went to a paint night out at my friend Helene's art gallery. It was so much fun. I could have just kept piling paint on my canvas all night long. I'm afraid I've found another hobby I don't have time to keep up with (by the way, the painting looks much better in a teeny, tiny photo than it does in real life). I bought supplies to repeat the lesson with the boys, if they'll let me. I'll keep you posted on how that goes.

February's frigid temperatures carried right through to the end (we woke up March 1, to -13 degrees F). Getting dressed in the morning takes a good half hour just to pile on the layers and snow pants have become acceptable office wear (for me at least).

But we got a couple of Sundays in a row where temperatures topped the freezing point: 34, even 37 degrees F.

We've carried on snowshoeing right through the winter, regardless of cold or wind, but what a difference 20 or 30 degrees makes.

I just feel so much more alive when I walk through the woods and don't feel like my face is going to freeze and fall off.

We found another trail of otter tracks on the river this past weekend, complete with holes where they enter and exit the cold, dark water below and a little scat present (this one appeared to come out of its water hole and leap a couple dozen feet to poop; very tidy of it). 

The scat was all crawdad parts and maybe a few fish scales. Mmm.

I spent a little time in the gravel pit, sitting on a log and writing in my journal, which is something it's just been too cold to do all winter. I even found this tiny patch of green moss (cohabiting with a purple liverwort). A sign of spring?

Over the weekend, I also cleared away all of the hearts and snowflakes and other signs of winter inside, replacing them with green wherever I could. And now it's March. My least favorite month. I always get depressed in March. This one is going to be extra challenging because C has to travel a lot for work, which means I have to double-up on duties: getting the kids on the bus, cooking and cleaning up, keeping the house warm (this is a terrible role for me; I'm much more apt to just keep adding sweaters rather than start a fire). And I can't believe Daylight Savings Time starts this weekend. The thought of having to wake up in the dark when it just started getting light out by six a.m. in the last few weeks fills me with murderous rage. Do you think I could just hibernate until April?

Oh, wait that IS my kitchen sink.