Still Summer Harvest Muffins

It is late in August, nearly September, and even though fall is beautiful and I'm sure I'll relish it when it comes, like always, I do tend to feel a bit wistful this time of year, and savour each hot, humid afternoon like a cat, stretching its paws towards the sunlight playing on the trees outside our window. The berries from the market still give off that lovely aroma of fresh, ripe summer days. There is nothing cleaner than biting into the crisp flesh of sour apples, and crunchy walnuts are my topping of choice, lending a dark smoothness to my summer desserts.

Perhaps these fruit-and-nut emblazoned muffins will entice you to savour the last of summer's sweetness. Perfect for afternoon tea with a slice of melon or a few figs, and a dollop of butter.

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Wipe lard into muffin tin.
Chop approx. 1 c ripe strawberries, hulled, into 1/4 to 1/2 inch pieces.
Chop 1 ripe green apple, mix into strawberries, set aside.
Chop 1/2 c. whole or halved walnuts, set aside.

Sift together:
1 1/2 c unbleached flour
1 1/2 c whole wheat flour
3 tsp baking powder
1 tsp salt
1/4 tsp mace (or nutmeg if you don't have it)
1/2 tsp cardamom
2 tbsp raw unbleached sugar

In a separate bowl, whisk together:
2 eggs
2 tbsp plain greek yogurt
3 tbsp honey
1/4 c vegetable oil
3/4 c milk
2 tbsp water
2 tbsp flax seeds

Combine wet to dry ingredients and blend well. Fold in fruit and nuts and stir.

Drop by 1/3-to-1/2  cupfuls into greased muffin tin cups.

Bake for 6 minutes at 400, then reduce heat to 375 degrees. Bake for approximately 16 to 18 more minutes until tops are risen and slightly browned.

Yield: 1 dozen

Sweet, Sweet Sunday

Sunday is a day of rest, goes the old adage, and I do subscribe to it. But today I'm making jam with plums my aunt, uncle, cousin, and I picked last Sunday afternoon from the ancient tree in my yard. I also hung out a load of laundry earlier, a ritual I crave for its simplicity and tactile pleasure.

It isn't work if you love it and it relaxes, reaffirms you. No, I truly believe it's part of the dance of the good life.

Together we picked 25 pounds of fruit last weekend. My aunt usually makes a simple jam based on an old USDA recipe. The wonderful thing about fresh-picked damsons is, in spite of the fact that they are a clingstone fruit, there is usually very little waste. From the entire batch I only found three plums I had to discard due to blemishes or rot. They are sturdy and simple to clean; the stems usually pop right off without tugging.

Here's my recipe for the jam, or rather preserves since I don't grind up all the pulp and fruit skin in a blender and it uses less sugar. I like the texture of the simple combination of fruit in its own rich nectar, and the slow simmering preserves the most flavour:

Damson Plum Preserves

10 lbs fresh plums, washed & picked
3 c water
6 c organic cane sugar

Place plums and water in large dutch oven, cover, and heat slowly at medium temperature, stirring occasionally to prevent sticking. When the mixture boils, set timer for 30 minutes. Keep covered and reduce heat to medium-low, stirring occasionally. Stir with wooden spoon and press lightly to encourage splitting of the pulp, which will make the pits easier to remove later. Reduce heat if necessary to keep from boiling over, and continue simmering for an additional 20 minutes.

When the mixture has cooked thoroughly for at least an hour, pulp has absorbed the dark red coloring of the mixture and the liquid has reduced slightly, turn off and set aside half-covered for about an hour until it is cool enough to touch. Stir lightly and pour mixture through a sieve into a large plastic or glass bowl, pressing to get as much pulp as possible to separate from the pits. Stir and return to dutch oven; set mixture aside.

Working over a second clean bowl, carefully remove pits from the remainder of the mixture in the sieve and discard them. When the remainder has been picked clean of pits, return it to the rest of the mixture and combine with sugar. Stir thoroughly.

Place mixture back in heavy saucepan or dutch oven, cover, and heat slowly to boiling a second time. Be careful not to heat too quickly or scorching can occur. Cook carefully over medium- to medium-low temperature until mixture reaches 220 degrees. This may take an hour, more or less. Boil for ten minutes until jell stage is reached. Remove from heat and allow to cool slightly, checking for thickening.

Pour into hot, clean jars, seal, and process in water bath canner for 10 minutes. Alternately, I am told you can skip the processing if your jars have been boiled and sterilized. A friend does it this way:

... when I do jelly and jam I try to take the jars out of hot water or dishwasher and fill with boiling jam. Then put on lids and invert on counter for five minutes and then turn right side up and wait for ping. I don't use a canner for jelly or jam as the product is hot and sterile, the jar is hot and sterile, and the lids are hot and sterile and they seal nicely. Never lost a jar this way, only in pressure canner.

While the jam is cooling, go check the laundry. Stretch your arms up high. Breathe in the goodness.

Images and content copyright (c) 2015 Susannah Eanes. All rights reserved.

Sunday Night Dinner

The cold wet wraps around the house like a blanket. Nestled inside we are warm as toast, about to tuck into a simple dinner of soup and muffins.

Sweet Potato Muffins

Simply replace the banana in a banana muffin recipe with an equal amount of mashed, cooked sweet potato. Delish!

Split-Pea Soup with Rice and Carrots




To six cups chicken stock add 2 c. dried peas, 1 c. rice, 3 carrots (sliced), 1/2 c. chopped onion. Heat thoroughly over medium heat, stirring occasionally to keep from sticking, for about 45 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Serve immediately.

Autumn Vigil

The old tractor watches
Quiet waits
Until it has
Work
To do
Again.

Traveling Light

I find myself sick of traveling, frankly. All I want to do now is curl up with a book, stare outside, look at the window, ponder a bit. Listen to loved ones, think about what they've said, listen some more. This is a major change from past propensities, which was to pick up and go at the merest wisp of a suggestion. Travel meant going beyond the place that I was, seeing new things as much as re-connecting with old ones.

Reading this piece at Salon brought this home recently. This is a wonderful article, well-crafted and superbly worded, the author has the grasp of language that slips into your mind easily. The second-person point of view is difficult to do well, but she does it with single-minded aplomb, leaving no question of her genius. It is taken from a larger work, Stranger Things Happen: Stories, and when I saw this I stopped reading long enough to add to my "To Read" list at Goodreads. It was that good. She was speaking to me, I was sure, or at least someone who had shared my experiences - we were kindred and I followed her down the rabbit-hole with faith that was quite blind. I was expecting a swirling, satisfying finish, where all is right in the end.

Silly me.

As I wrote to my sister when I sent her the article, dear Ms. Link had it right at the outset, she took you along a steep, winding and bloody difficult path, but surely she stopped just short of where the journey really reached its final destination. She knows the fairy-tale path so well! How could she have missed the whole point?

Read the article, mind you, before you travel further, or you're not going to believe me. You'll think I'm making this all up. And read this interview with Kelly Link by Laura Miller, Romance and Other Myths, which is right as rain throughout except for those needling little thrusts both of them make at the insanity that is "true love." Ms. Link and I share some similarities, we have both lived a "peripatetic life," but for pity's sake at some point we all have to settle down sometime. Maybe it's just the propensity of some people to joust at windmills, but it would be a sad world indeed for those of us who crave the warmth of quiet home fires to think that all this patient belief in love is all for naught. Phooey. Inside a voice whispers, "She missed the point."

Yet I still want to read her work, if only just for the repeated satisfaction of re-discovering that this belief in love is really just belief in myself. She's right, of course - the too-hard, misbegotten journey where you press on until your feet are cut to ribbons from all the miss-steps you've made is a bit much. When you get to the end of that trial how do you even know you're there? You're too busy picking glass out of your feet and re-applying eyeliner, wetting your lips, rehearsing what you're going to say so he doesn't get the wrong idea, and trying to remember where you left the keys. It's all drama at that point, and who has the energy for that?

So you clear the air and start over. Throw out the dirty dishes, add to the archaeological treasures in the backyard. Sweep up the shards from the broken mirror, apologize. Let a brief, beautiful memory or a shared glance make you smile. Back up, turn the wheel. Don't go down that path. Refresh your mind in shared laughter, challenge yourself to swallow pride over what was lost through ridiculous circumstances and look how simple things become once you've forgiven him. Forgiven yourself for being so blind and wicked.

There are two, no three, other fictional heroines, very different and yet similar enough to make the comparison in this instance, because their epiphanies are more - shall we say, agreeable. Theirs are stories I can relate to, be satisfied with, because these women and men forgave, and forgot, and in so doing reaped the benefits of what I believe is a more fulfilled existence, because it is shared. I don't have words to say just why this is, but it's true. No man is an island. No woman, either. Jane went back to Rochester. Elizabeth married Darcy. Luke and Lorelai figured it out in spite of everything. I know of a few real-life couples who did this, too. Sara and Richard. Gwen and Gavin. Joan and Robin, whose story in An Unfinished Marriage is remarkably simple, which makes it all the more interesting and applicable.

Truce. Because every day with your partner is practice for how you'll succeed in the real world, and how you treat those closest to you mirrors how you treat yourself.

Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not keep a record of wrongs. Love never ends. Faith, hope, and love - these three, but the greatest of these is Love.

Preserving Summer Harvest

Chutney is a delectable, spicy preserve-like concoction that is made to be served with slowly-roasted beef, chicken, or pork but is also delicious embedded in an omelet or folded into a piquant casserole. Best when the freshest ingredients are used at the height of their summer goodness, it takes time and patience to chop, peel, skin, and dice all the fruits and vegetables that go into it, but when savoring your own prudent industry over a leisurely wintry meal, there’s simply nothing better to recall to mind the warmth and goodness of long summer days.

Last August 23rd, dear husband and I managed to put up a very good batch of Peach Chutney that we adapted from a recipe in Linda Ferrari’s classic Canning and Preserving, and I took pictures intending to share the results with folks here at the blog. The local peaches and the peppers from the garden were especially plentiful - and juicy - last year. However, real life being what it is, I never got around to making the blog post. Some people may wonder why I’m bothering to do it now, but I’m of the mind that it really is never too late to recall and make a note of good things like this. Jason & I used to make Chutney a lot; in fact, one of our family jokes was to make this very British preparation in early July, and tongue-in-cheek to call it “Fourth of July Chutney,” ‘cause we’re awesome like that. But I digress.

Being in the kitchen is one of my favorite memories of life with this man, who is much more at home around the stove & countertop than I am. While at times it may have been a little awkward as we worked around each others’ idiosyncrasies (random grumbles and mutual harrumphs notwithstanding), as I look back over the years I feel a warmth rise in my chest remembering the way his hands moved, assuredly and with the skill of long practice, and the delectable meals he’s prepared. So - here ‘tis, a year late, but still kind of wonderful – and I’m not just talking about the tangible results. There’s something magical about working together and producing something fine that goes beyond the immediate; it’s a shared experience that underscores the importance of living in the moment while affirming that even when it’s a bit of a challenge, the future is an opportunity worth preserving. Try it with someone you love.


Peach Chutney

7 lbs. fresh peaches, blanched, skinned and chopped
1 large onion, minced
1 c. dried currants
Zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 large gingerroot, peeled and finely chopped
Several red, green, and yellow peppers, sliced, seeds removed, and minced
2 c. cider vinegar
2 c. brown sugar
½ c. granulated organic cane sugar
1 tsp. ground peppercorns
2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1 tsp. whole cloves
½ tsp. ground mace
¾ tsp. ground allspice

Prepare fruit and vegetables carefully. Blend vinegar, sugars, lemon juice, zest, ginger root, and spices in a large heavy pot placed on the stove. Add peaches, onion, currants, and peppers. Cook over medium-high heat, stirring constantly, until slow boil is reached. Lower heat and simmer until thickened to correct consistency.

Ladle into hot, prepared jars, seal, and process for 10 minutes in a water bath. Cool for several hours or overnight and check for complete sealing of jars.

Makes approximately 7-8 pints. Store in a cool, dark place.