From 'Sock Pants' to Napkins

Years and years ago in a act typical of a self-sacrificing mom; my mother gave me her sewing machine.  Her brand new machine.  She it earned from an incentive program at work and I somehow convinced her to let me have it.  Now before you think I'm a terrible daughter, let me clarify that this was her second machine, the first still sits in the guest room in fine working order having clocked-in endless hours on Halloween costumes and 'sock pants.' 

Sock pants?
Are what Mom called her invention of sewing crew socks to the ankles of pants.  It gets cold in Northern California, and in an effort to keep her toddler son warm, Mom would layer up sock pants beneath a another pair of pants.  Imagine this poor sprout in preschool around nap time when the teacher asked everyone to "Please take off their shoes and socks." 

I've yet to make a pair of sock pants but I have made many of my own projects and inventions.  Recently, I revisited my very first project: cloth napkins.  It makes my heart sings to see that I have learned.  Learned that ironing actually does save time, that corner can be tidy, and that moms really are the best. 

How-to Sew Cloth Napkins

Cut some cotton fabric into squares (remember to take in account for the hem.) Mine were on the small size and measured 15" x 15" before sewing, the finished napkin was just shy of 14" but feel free to make them any size you like.

With the wrong side of the fabric up,  eyeball a 3/8" hem folding and pressing all around the perimeter.

Next fold the hem over one more time pressing the corners well.

Next trim the corners to remove some of the bulk material do this by unfolding the pressed corners and drawing a line through the intersection of the second hem line.

Cut on the line

Fold and press the cut end.

Refold the hemsforming a neat corner.  Here's the first fold

and the second

Ta-da!
Ok, so repeat for all the other corners. And press , press, press, this will make sewing a breeze.  Then run a straight stitch along the hem and you're done.

Spring and Fresh Homemade Yogurt

Spring is in the air and while wheat grass sprouts

and flowers bloom

I thought I'd reattempt making yogurt.

My last batch of "yogurt" was sadly nothing more than a bunch of warm milk. Fortunately, all was not lost, and I the never-to-be yogurt was transformed into some decent ricotta cheese. Left with a nagging feeling of dissatisfaction I put my plans for homegrown yogurt aside until... I found a steal on a brand new yogurt maker.

The basics of yogurt making is very simple: add some plain store-bought yogurt to some warmed milk and keep the mixture warm for a period of several hours and that's it. There are several methods of maintaining a warm environment including improvised ice coolers, heating pads (Alton Brown the nerdy host of Good Eats, suggests wrapping one of these around a cylindrical containing your milk and placing the entire lot in an insulated ice bucket) and even a thermos. My machine is essentially a domed heating pad with charming individual-serving glass jars. The benefits of making your own yogurt are like cooking your own food: it tastes great, you know what goes in it, it's cheap, and no plastic. Here's how to do it:

Fresh Homemade Yogurt

Allow a quart of milk (2% or whole) to come to room temperature or heat on the stove until just warm. Note: this method makes for a thinner consistency, other instructions may ask to heat the milk to a higher temperature then allow to cool to 100 degrees before proceeding. Add to the warm milk a small container (6-8 oz) of plain store-bought yogurt (make sure it contains "live cultures".) Stir well and pour into your culturing container.

After 4-6 hours you should have yogurt. Immediately refrigerate and serve when cool.

Since this recipe makes plain yogurt, I like to doctor it up with a drizzle of maple syrup or honey and some toasted almonds. This stuff is so good. I haven't figure out exactly why eating out of a jar is such a pleasure but I suspect it has to something to do with the weight of the glass. Who knew?

Lace 'em up

via cuartoderecha

Because It's Been So Long Peach Butter

Yesterday I woke-up early with the word peaches on my lips, only to fall back to blissful weekend slumber. An hour later, my hopes dashed of obtaining my 20 pound box of "seconds" (they go quickly) we headed to the farmer's market. As luck would have it I arrived late and got my box. "Seconds" incidentally, are the delicious, albeit less-than-perfect peaches sold in bulk for 25 bucks a box. Last year I came the same Forbidden Fruit stall to purchase their lovely fruit. You should see how these guys handle their peaches, like they're little balls of newborn; so tender and filled with promise. This year I decided I wanted to make fruit butter; the less-sugar cousin to jam that goes well with savory dishes as well as toast. Here's how to do it:

Simple Peach Butter
10 lbs. fresh peaches, approximately 25 medium peaches, or 16 C. crushed
5 C. sugar
1 lemon, juiced

Skin peaches by immersing them whole into boiling water for 1 minute. Remove them into a bowl of cool water. While the peaches are cooling, prepare in a large bowl 2 cups of water and the juice of 1 lemon, this will prevent the peaches from browning. Peel and pit the peaches placing them in the lemon water.

In a large (10 quart) stainless steel pot, crush the pitted peaches 1 cup at a time using a potato masher. Keep track of the number of cups of peaches you crush in the event you need to adjust the proportions of sugar to fruit. I’ve read many recipes that call for a ratio of 1/2 cup sugar to 1 cup of crushed fruit. I’ve reduced the amount here as I prefer a fruitier tasting butter; feel free to make your own adjustments.

On medium heat bring the crushed peaches to a boil being careful not to scorch them. Add the sugar and bring back to a boil. Preheat oven to 300 degrees. When the peach/sugar mixture comes to a boil, remove from heat and transfer 3/4 of the mixture to shallow baking dishes and place in the preheated oven. Stir the butter every 15 minutes. As it cooks down add the reserved peach/sugar mixture. When the butter mounds nicely in a spoon it’s ready. This will take 1-1 1/2 hours depending on the moisture content of your peaches.

When the butter is at the correct consistency, hot-pack as instructed in my Old Fashioned Raspberry Jam recipe or bottle in sterilized glass containers and once cooled store in the refrigerator. Makes 12, 1/2 pint jars

The Days Are Just Packed

There's a frenzy 'round here; we know summer's nearly up. We're savoring; filling up the days with the river, dipping toes and bodies; cheering our favorite tomatoes into reddening; breathing deeply of wet cement; picking berries; and feigning the reality of shorter days.

Last weekend in the It's beautiful and we gotta get out spirit Eddy and I paid a visit to a nearby lake (one of many) famous for its fishing, Georgtown Lake. We arrived late in the afternoon with plenty of time to set camp and fix dinner.

Near the lake I found the most charming strawberries that when stuffed into the cavity of half-eaten chocolate croissant, became dessert. So good. Bellies full of campfire steak and berries we slept to a neighboring campsite's guitar.

We headed for home the next morning, stopping in Phillipsberg a tiny main-street-drag of a town with an impressive candy shop. The cool dimly lit interior reeked of everything sweet.
Surprisingly there were few kids in the shop, mostly adults eyes-wide scanning sugar in hundreds of forms.

The onslaught of sugar took the most extreme proportions behind the sales counter, where the candy making at its best is conveniently demonstrated as you wait in line. Salt water taffy is stretched, truffles dipped in vats of liquid ganache, and bricks of homemade fudge are sliced and weighed. I left amped with a bag full of candy.

We returned to Missoula with a time to spare and I ended the day by picking organic raspberries at a fundraising event hosted at the Common Ground Farm. Every year at the end of the season you can pay ten bucks to pick pick all the berries you want. I went with a couple a friends and by 9:44 we had collected 30 pounds of fruit.

The next day I made a batch of Old Fashioned Raspberry Jam.

Below's the recipe; banish your fears of canning and try it out. The process is a simpler than it seems and by the end of it you will have an entirely renewed appreciation for canning plus half-pint reminders of summer packed days.

Old Fashioned Raspberry Jam
Makes 4, half-pint jars
adapted from The Complete Book of Small-Batch Preserving by Ellie Topp & Margaret Howard

4 C. raspberries (fresh or frozen)
4 C. sugar
4 half-pint canning jars with lids and rings

Wash 4 half-pint canning jars and rest them on a cake rack at the bottom of a tall stock pot. Cover the jars with at least 1 inch of water and bring to a soft boil. (A rack can be improvised by tying several canning rings together with string.) Keep a kettle of water on the boil to sterilize lids later.

Place sugar in a shallow baking dish in a 250 degree oven for 15 minutes. (Warming the sugar makes it dissolve more readily.)

Place the berries into a medium-sized heavy bottomed pot and place on high heat. Use a potato masher to crush the fruit. Bring to a full rolling boil for 1 min, stirring constantly.

Add the warm sugar to the hot berries and return to a full boil until the mixture gels, stirring to avoid scorching.

Gelling can be tested a few ways: 1.) When a candy thermometer reads 220 degrees 2.) When a cold teaspoon dipped into the syrup collects on the edge of the spoon and sheets rather than dripping off 3.) Using a chilled plate, place a dollop of hot jam and return it to the freezer for 2 minutes. After 2 minutes push the cooled jam with your finger and if the surface wrinkles it’s ready to be packed. You can also tilt the plate to see if the jam moves, if it moves very slowly it’s ready. The time it takes for the raspberries to reach gel stage varies anywhere from 5 to 30 minutes depending on the moisture content in your fruit. Remove jam from heat.

Place canning lids (not rings) in a bowl and cover with boiling water. The lids need to stand for a couple of minutes to soften the sealant material. Use a canning jar lifter, or tongs to lift your hot jar, pouring all of the water out.

Pour jam into a glass measuring cup to ease filling the jam jars leaving a 1/2″ of headspace. Clean up any dribbles on lip of the jar using a clean dishtowel dipped in boiling water. Grab a hot lid using a pair of tongs and place on the jar, screw on the canning ring until just snug. You want to avoid screwing the band on too tightly as air needs to escape later. Fill remaining jars.

Carefully lower the filled jars into the stock pot. Arrange the jars so that they stand upright and do not touch. Make sure the jars are covered with at least 1 inch of water and bring to a boil. Once the water comes to a strong boil process for 10 minutes. Higher elevations may need to add more time, these can be looked up online.

After 10 minutes turn off the heat and allow the jars to remain in the hot water for 5 more minutes.

Remove jars from water and place on a cutting board in an undisturbed spot. They should seal if not immediately, in 12-24 hours. You should hear a sucking sound and the lid will be concaved in the middle. In the event the jars don’t seal consume the jam immediately and store in the refrigerator. Properly canned jam can be stored up to a year in cool dark spot.

The Mysteries of Kombucha Revealed

Kombucha, what the hell is it you say?
Boocha, as we affectionately call it, is an effervescent beverage made from a culturing process that involves a kombucha colony, sugar, and tea. I've read that it has its origins in China and was consumed for its believed digestive benefits and all-around goodness. As a self-confessed addict (and at $3.25 a fix) I was in desperate need for a DIY hack. A few moments spent in front of a glowing monitor and the Internet spilled her information-filled guts — revealing a relatively simple process. All that was required was a mother colony, a batch of sweet tea, and a little patience. For around twenty bucks, there are several sites on the web from which one can purchase a culture also known as a mushroom, SCOBY (Symbiotic Culture of Bacteria and Yeast, yum) or mother. Hmm.... Twenty bucks felt steep for my tight pursestrings...to my delight, a friend shared it was possible to circumvent the initiation fee and grow my own culture using a bottle of the store-bought stuff. Again I consulted the wise Internet and sure enough, I uncovered a couple of recipes and even a video.
So where to begin? Growing your mother...

The Gear:
1 bottle of plain kombucha (I used the ubiquitous G.T.'s)
6 t. loose leaf black tea (Assam, Keemun, Darjeeling are some personal favorites)
1 C. sugar
1 gallon of filtered water
1 non-reactive container i.e. glass or plastic, I use a gallon-size glass cookie jar
a piece of cotton cloth large enough to cover the mouth of the jar, I use a clean dinner napkin
1 rubber band

Begin by brewing your tea. Place your tea (I use loose leaf but you may substitute an equal number of tea bags as long as the tea is black) in 2 large glasses and top off with boiling water. Allow the strong tea to brew until the tea comes to room temperature. In your gallon-size, non-reactive container measure 1 cup of sugar and add the strained, room-temperature tea. Stir the tea and sugar together until the sugar is dissolved. Fill the container nearly to the top with filtered water and add the bottle of kombucha; stir well. Place the piece of cloth over the mouth of the container and hold it in place with a rubber band. Now take your entire rig and place it in an undisturbed area, sheltered from direct sunlight. You are looking for a colony to form on the surface of the brew. It will take the form of a milky floating film. The rate of film formation is directly dependent on the ambient room temperature, so expect a longer brew time for colder seasons. I started mine in the spring and it took four weeks for a 1/4" momma to grow. Check on your colony nursery every couple of days, making sure the film is covered with tea and that no mold forms. Mold is bad. If molds sprouts, get rid of your batch and start over. Once you've grown a vital, robust colony, reserve 2 cups of the brew along with the mother. Discard the remaining sacrificial broth. Now you're ready to make kombucha.

The List: the brew is the same as above
1 C. sugar
6 t. tea to 1 gallon of water
kombucha colony
non-reactive container
cotton cloth rubber band
ginger, fresh a 1" x 2" piece (optional)

Whip up a batch of the same sweet tea as directed above and add the 2 C. of the reserved brewed tea and the momma. Make sure the colony is submerged, then cover the vat with the cotton cloth and secure with a rubber band. Brew time will again depend on the time of year and temperature. In the summer, brew times will be shorter (7-12 days) rather than 12-16 days in the winter. Give your brew a taste — if it's too sweet give it a couple more days; too tart — shorten the time for the next batch. Every time I start a new batch, I write the date on a piece of tape and affix it to the exterior of the jar so I have an idea of how much time has passed.

Bottling
6 pint bottles or containers with tight fitting lids. I save G.T. kombucha bottles for bottling — you can use whatever you like as long as the seal is secure and tight.

This recipe yields 6 pints of kombucha. Using a 2 C. measuring glass reserve two cups of brew, along with the mother colony, in a separate bowl. Decant the remaining brew into clean bottles. I usually fill the bottles to the top of the G.T. label followed by the ginger juice. If you're making plain kombucha, fill the bottles to an half inch of the top and cap tightly. For a ginger version (my personal favorite) grate fresh ginger, skin and all, and add 1 cup of boiling water. Once the water has cooled to room temperature, strain the grated ginger. After filling the six bottles to the level of the label there should be approximately 1 cup of brew remaining. To this remaining cup add your ginger juice and distribute this mixture equally among the six bottles of brew. Cap the bottles tightly and place in an undisturbed location at room temperature for 1-2 days. This resting time develops the effervescence — which you can test by uncapping a bottle and listening for the telltale fizz. At this point you can put the bottles in the fridge which will stop the fermentation process. Enjoy at your leisure.

One of the beauties of this process is that it's perpetual — you always have a batch of brew in the works — but as with all good things it also requires a bit of vigilance. Imagine yourself as teenage babysitter, for that's about how much work is involved and remember — mold is bad. With every batch the momma will thicken, forming a new layer often called the baby. This baby or new layer is capable of breeding its own batch of brew — hence the mail-order-boocha brides at twenty dollars a pop. Give one away free-puppy-style, or do as I do and keep the boocha family together in one incestuous flotilla.

Tamales de Picadillo* Oaxqueno or Smoky Pork Tamales

I've had a bag of masa harina sitting in my pantry for over a year now. Originally purchased to satisfy an itch for sopes, it has since sat in the dark corners of my pantry waiting patiently for an, Oh yeah masa? moment. That moment came recently in the form of tamales. Ah tamales, tamales. A deceptively simple outfit; a wrap of corn husk, an insulating layer of rich masa and a warm porky core — an elegant ensemble easily screwed by dry meal and bland innards. To get it right, I went to the authority on Mexican eats, Rick Bayless and his cookbook Mexican Kitchen, where I conflated a couple of recipes to come up with the following. This recipe is sooo worth the effort. It reads tediously and is exhaustive — but make it, just once. You won't be sorry. Do it, I dare you.

One of my key criteria for great tamales is the masa surrounding the filling. The amount must be in correct proportion to the filling. Texturally it must be moist and MUST be tasty. This recipe does it — and I think the secret's in the lard. Yes lard, L-A-R-D. Beautiful stuff. Let us fellow food lovers do our part for lard's sake and help it shake its bad rap. If we compare its stats to our benign and ubiquitous dairy-friend, butter, we find that lard is lower in saturated fat, higher in unsaturated fat and has lower cholesterol by weight than butta. Not convinced? How about the frugal argument that pork fat is cheap? It is. Ask your local butcher to set some aside and s/he will be more than happy to sell you their trash for pennies a pound. Here's how I rendered my own lard. The store-bought brick lard is partially hydrogenated and has a flavor akin to motor oil and is to be avoided. Clarifying you own fat is simple; take pork fat and cut it into 1-2 inch chunks. Place the fat bits in an oven-proof container with a lid in a 300-degree-oven for about an hour. The time to render will vary. I made an amount enough for one recipe and it took about an hour — a larger amount will take a couple of hours. Check the fat occasionally and give the entire lot a stir and make sure the cracklings don't burn. When the pieces of fat have transformed into the homemade cousins of bacon bits, a.k.a cracklings, strain them onto a dish lined with paper towels and liberally salt and pepper. The remaining liquid lard can be transferred into a clean and dry glass container and stored in the refrigerator for a couple of months. Delicious.

Tamales de Picadillo* Oaxqueno

adapted from Rick Bayless' Mexican Kitchen Makes 18 tamales

THE FILLING

1 1/2 lbs. boneless pork shoulder, trimmed cut into 2" cubes

2 cloves garlic peeled

1/2 large onion, diced

In a 3 qt. saucepan add pork, garlic, and onion and cover with an inch of water and a heavy pinch of salt. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to a simmer and cook 1 1/2 to 2 hours until the meat easily shreds. This may be cooked in advance and stored in the fridge until ready to use reserving the broth for making the masa.

3 chipotle peppers,canned in adobo sauce

7-8 plum tomates, halved

3 cloves of garlic unpeeled

1 T. lard or canola oil

1/2 t. salt

Roast garlic cloves and tomatoes under the broiler (I use my toaster oven) until the skins of the tomatoes start to blacken and the garlic begins to soften. Cool tomatoes and puree with garlic, salt and chipotles in a blender or food processor. Heat lard in a dutch oven and add sauce cooking on medium heat until sauce thickens, set aside.

1/2 large onion, chopped

2 T. lard or canola oil

1/2 t. cinnamon

1/4 t. black pepper, freshly ground

1/8 t. cloves, ground

1/2 C. raisins

1/2 C. walnuts, chopped and toasted

In the same dutch oven, heat 2 T. of lard or oil on med-high heat and add onions and saute until soft and add shredded pork. Continue frying until the pork begins to crisp and brown approximately 12- 18 minutes. Sprinkle in the cinnamon, pepper, cloves, raisins and the reserved chipotle sauce. Reduce the mixture until nearly all of the moisture is absorbed and add the toasted walnuts. Allow the filling to cool before assembling tamales. This step may be done in advance and stored until ready to assemble.

THE MASA

4 oz. package of corn husks

2/3 C. lard*, chilled or shortening

1 t. baking powder

1 3/4 C. masa harina, prepared with 1 C. + 2 T. hot water, allowed to cool

2/3 C. broth, reserved from cooking pork

1 t. salt

Place corn husk in a large pot and cover with water, bring to a boil, turn off heat and allow to sit about an hour until husks soften and separate. While the husks soak prepare the masa. In a stand mixer, whip the cool lard with baking powder and salt until light about 1 min. Add prepared masa in three additions, scraping the sides of the bowl between additions. Slowly add broth until the batter is light, and has a cake batter consistency. To test the batter, place a a scant teaspoon of batter in a glass of cool water — if the batter floats it's ready.

Set aside about 18 good corn husks. Shred a few of the extra husks into strips to be used to tie the tamales. Dry the interior with a paper towel and place the husk with the tapered end towards you. Spread a scant 1/4 C. of masa in a 4 x 4 inch square near the top edge of the husk. Add 2 T. of filling to the middle of the masa. Take the sides of the husk together and overlap them over the filling forming a cylinder. Fold the bottom portion of the cylinder up over the filling and secure with a strip of husk leaving the top of the tamale open. Place assembled tamales upright in a colander lined with extra husks. Place the colander in 1-2 inches of boing water in a large stock pot and steam of 1 1/4 hours. When reading the masa will separate easily from the husks. While steaming periodically check the water level and replenish as needed.

*picadillo is a filling of shredded or minced meat