Yesterday was my 55 birthday. I woke up to wonderful greetings on Facebook, phone calls , emails, presents and the promise of a wonderful trip to Paris in the spring from my husband. I spent the morning working in the Western Reserve Herb gardens and the afternoon enjoying lattes and lunch with Jim . My day felt so blessed . Later that evening we went out to dinner with my sister, her husband and my niece and nephew to my favorite restaurant in town. I drank Sazerac's and enjoyed a wonderful meal and phone calls and pictures from my son and his beautiful girlfriend who had just arrived on Southern California after a week long trip across the country... More blessings.. More gratitude for what has been and continues to be an unbelievably abundant and happy life. One of the things about birthdays though is that when both of your parents are gone there is a missing that can't be denied. My mother was a wonderful baker and every year would bake me my favorite cake that she called a Reese Roll. It is a Texas sheet cake flavored with cocoa and rolled up jelly roll style with whipped cream and covered with chocolate frosting. When my sister asked me what I wanted for my birthday, I told her that actually the only thing that I wanted was to taste that cake again. When mom died and I broke apart the house I gave Ellen the copy of our moms favorite cookbook as she's the baker and I thought she'd love it. So unbeknownst to me she cracked it open yesterday and she and Molly ( my nephews lovely wife) baked my birthday cake. We returned home from dinner and they proudly brought me the cake festooned with candles. I bit into it and swooned...it was absolutely as wonderful as I'd remembered. Then with a little impish grin my sister walked into the kitchen and brought out the old cookbook. " you need to see this Beth... The pages are all covered in chocolate" and she set it down in front of me. Right there, tucked into pages of the cookbook was a little note written by my mom to me so very long ago... So long ago that I don't even remember ever seeing it. Ellen said that the instructions left in the note were literally the things that helped her and Molly bake the cake and that it had been wonderful, as if mom had been there the whole time with them. For me, seeing my moms words..."Dear Beth....Love, Mom" was such an extraordinary gift. I really had no words. I touched the little paper for awhile , kissed it and tucked it back into the book. My sister offered it to me but it needed to stay there folded into the pages where it had been hidden for so long. Just knowing that it's there is for me the most precious secret gift of all. My mother was wonderful and she was with me on my birthday. The gratitude for having known her never stops.... Some flowers you grow for the sheer beauty of their presence. If you've never grown this one, the glorious Night scented Tobacco, I hope that you'll try it next year. This is a flower that has absolutely no virtue other than it's beauty and incredibly romantic aroma. Truthfully...I would have to say that there is almost nothing lovelier than coming upon this flower late at night. Scraggly and wilted by day, as soon as night falls this Scented Tobacco releases it's sweet and sticky jasmine scent. That's how you'll know it... You'll walk around the garden and you'll follow your nose . Take a glass of chilled white wine with you and your lover for this may not be a medicinal herb but it is aromatherapeutic . There is nothing as wonderful as an evening spent in a beautiful moonlit garden with a glorious patch of these wonderful white flowers. The energy that the Night Scented Tobacco emits is narcotic and relaxing without any nasty side effects. To utilize it just sit with them and breathe in and out peacefully. Ask for their help... Let them work their magic on your frayed nerves. Keep your eyes gently closedt and relax... Let the scent take you into your center. Then ask if the plant has any guidance for you. Then listen carefully... I think you'll be pleasantly surprised. In my practice I utilize aroma for healing as much, if not more than actual supplementing. The living energies of all plants are powerful and can be called upon to promote healing from the aroma of the flower ( think Claire's conjuring of Black Jack Randall with lavender, opium and valerian in the Abbey) as easily and sometimes even more effectively than if you ingested the plant or even used the essential oils . Have fun experimenting and please feel free to let me know what you come up with! Xoxo, Milady “Well, I’ll admit you’re verra well preserved, Sassenach, for such an auld crone.”“Well nourished, is what I am,” I retorted. “Half the people on your estate are suffering from mild scurvy, and from what I’ve seen on the road, it’s even worse elsewhere. It’s vitamin C that prevents scurvy, and apples are full of it.” He took the apple away from his mouth and frowned at it suspiciously. “They are?” “Yes, they are,” I said firmly. “So are most other kinds of plants—oranges and lemons are best, but of course you can’t get those here—but onions, cabbage, apples … eat something like that every day, and you won’t get scurvy. Even green herbs and meadow grass have vitamin C.”“Mmphm. And that’s why deer dinna lose their teeth as they get old?” “I daresay.” He turned the apple to and fro, examining it critically, then shrugged. “Aye, well,” he said, and took another bite.” Excerpt From: Diana Gabaldon. “Dragonfly in Amber.” --------------------------------------------------------------------- One of the things that I love the most about the wonderful world that Diana Gabaldon has created is it's emphasis on seasonal living. Every year I look forward to the month of September for many reasons, but mostly because the harvest season with its totally unabashed abundance inspires me to begin really cooking again! Summertime is wonderful with all of it’s light fresh meals, but it’s the long slow braises of autumn and the scents of apple butter, chili and stews that feed my soul at this time of year. If we’re lucky this year, the Indian summer will bring with it bonfires, apples and clambakes and lots of fresh cider. As soon as I feel the first chill in the air I’ll begin to think about making Cidre’, that luscious French hard cider that my son and nephew love to drink all winter long as well as delicious slowly baked Apple Tarte’Tatins that emerge from the oven dripping with butter and oozing with creamy salted caramel. Our mornings will start with fresh cinnamon toast from the bakery around the corner spread with spicy homemade apple butter or a bowl full of hot oatmeal with a bit of butter,cinnamon, apple butter and some soft tangy goat cheese. I begin longing for these treats in the last weeks of August when plump red apples start falling from my trees and the smell of their ripeness begins to waft through my windows with the warm breeze. Riding the trails this time of year is an incredibly delicious experience with the warm windfall apples crunching under Henry’s hooves , the last of the ripening berries that I can steal from the birds and the sticky sweetness of the molding fallen leaves. When my son Alex was just a little boy,(he's the one in the picture above hanging a bird house in one of our apple trees!) I used to take him apple picking at a farm that was right around the corner. We’d spend the day picking apples and the fragrant concord grapes so ripe that they were covered with wild yeasts. We’d bring a lunch of fresh cheese and warm bread and we’d spend the day playing among the trees , choosing the best apples and coming home with huge bags of fruit. Alex was homeschooled and one year my husband came home to find two huge jars on the sink filled with cider and bubbling very mysteriously. “It’s an organic chemistry experiment dad….we’re making hard cider" my son proudly told his father! Jim looked at me in disbelief, but I didn't make any apologies and besides I knew that he’d love the results! I think that was the point that my husband officially began to question my sanity, but when the time came to fill the bottles with the sweet alcoholic brew even he got in on the action. There’s something about the act of putting things by that brings out the provider in every man and I’ll never forget the sight of him helping Alex siphon the liquid from the carboys into the bottles that we’d labeled so proudly. We let the cider settle for another month or two and then we opened the first bottle. It was perfectly delicious and amazingly fresh and tart! Apple cordial is easy to make as well. Just take many peeled and cored fresh apples, slice them and put into a bottle of spiced rum. Add more spice if you like, a whole vanilla bean, some whole cinnamon sticks , raisins and a bit of brown sugar or molasses. Shake and then let the whole thing sit for month. Pour it into several pretty bottles and give it as Christmas gifts. This is a wonderfully satisfying treat served in pretty glasses and sipped next to a cozy fire. Add one James Fraser and stir...... I have my own apple trees once again and this year I am planning to rent a cider press so that I can use my own fresh apples to make the first batch of cider that I will have attempted in many years. I’ll also make apple butter with bourbon and as much chutney as I can bottle. Making apple butter is one of the easiest things that you can do with a surplus of fresh apples. The traditional way calls for a huge copper pot and a bonfire , the way that it’s made every year at the Apple Butter Festival in Burton, Ohio. The Century Village in Burton has a wonderful festival every year where you can see apple butter being made in this way. We used to get up at 5:00 am to partake in this particular alchemy….that of turning apples, cider, cinnamon, butter ,sugar and smoke into the rich and golden spread. True apple butter made in this way takes hours to melt it down. First you build the bonfire and then you bring out the cauldron which is literally bigger than a kitchen sink! Add apples and cider and stir with a wooden paddle , every now and then adding more crates of peeled apples. Eventually, the apple butter experts come round and deem the pot fit for canning adding vast amounts of cinnamon, sugar and butter to the already delightful mixture. Every now and then you’ll buy a jar that has a bee in it…. signs of very good luck and a naturally made product! Lacking a bonfire but owning a wonderful copper pot, I make apple butter every year at home. It’s very simple and makes your kitchen as well as the rest of your house smell incredible. I embellish a little bit simply because I can, but in the end it’s apple butter plain and simple. Try this because its one of the most satisfying Autumn treats that you can make. You will need: Tons of apples, sliced,peeled and cored! Enough to fill your slow cooker and more.... A large bottle of fresh apple cider Several cups of brown sugar Huge amounts of cinnamon At least one stick of very good butter A slow cooker or a large copper pot is what I use, either will work very well! Here’s the simple recipe. Put the apples into the pot or cooker, add enough cider to cover and cook for as many hours as it takes to really cook them down . When it’s almost done add the cinnamon to taste, brown sugar and enough butter to have it be silky and smooth. Now to gild the lily as they say! This simple recipe although wonderful doesn’t quite do it for me. Real apple butter made over a bonfire has a bit of a smoky taste so at the very end I add a bit of organic liquid smoke. Sometimes, I leave it at that, but more than often I’ll add some single malt scotch somewhere towards the end of the cooking, something wonderful like a 18 year old Glenfiddich or a peaty Laphroaig. When it’s done to your taste, pour it into sterilized glass jars, leave a quarter of an inch at the top and fit the sterilized lid and ring onto the jar. Twist until finger tight and process in a boiling water bath for 12 minutes. Remove from the hot water bath, tighten the lids and let sit on a firm surface for 24 hours. Click here for Ball Canning Recipes If I want it to be apple chutney instead of apple butter, I’ll make it in the slow cooker and follow the canning instructions but instead I'll add raisins, lemons , walnuts and onions and a little bit of the liquid smoke. I play with the spices, sometimes adding fresh sage from my garden and sometimes add a bit of brandy or a touch of single malt. To serve add a freshly roasted chicken or a loaf of fresh bread and a large wedge of white cheddar. Please promise me that you’ll have fun with the harvest this year and make a promise to yourself to put something by even if your stillroom is the teensy kitchen in your apartment. In the end, that’s what food like this is about because it’s slow, creative and fresh. Let it become a real part of your seasonal experience and enjoy the journey as well as the results! Last but not least, I leave you with this little ditty...The Johnny Appleseed song. This lovely song is what my husbands family sings every time they get together. Because there are so many of them and they are some damn musical they sing it acoustically and in 4 part harmony. It's a gorgeous family tradition that has been sung at blessings, funerals , deathbeds and Thanksgivings for many years. Well here it is...the night that all of us have been waiting for. Even my husband is looking forward to the world premiere of Outlander, but I truthfully think that he's really looking forward to the picnic in that I've planned! So many things have been written about Outlander, but truthfully, the most wonderful part of the books is always for me the enduring love and passion that Jamie and Claire experience for each other. It's a passion that grows over time and distance and even with it's 18th century inconveniences has a tendency to spark to a full blown flame within a heartbeat. So I thought what better place to watch this first episode but at home, in bed with my adorable husband of 32 years. We've already seen it of course, but I think that he's looking forward to it again as much as I am.... Because we're having a picnic, that means finger food and because it's Outlander it's definitely a feast full of fresh herbs and spices! It's not at all Scottish but it will be delicious! I like to think that it's a nod to the time Jamie and Claire spent in Paris..... To begin with, we'll be starting with a Rusty Royale which is a cocktail of champagne and Drambuie with a fresh blackberry and a candied orange peel that has of course (because I cannot resist anything dipped in chocolate) been dipped in chocolate! With these I'm serving a bruschetta made with our favorite "chicken liver pate", which is lentils, mushrooms, white truffle oil , plenty of tarragon and lots of onion...all ground to a silky smooth consistency and spread onto slices of fresh baguette and topped with gruyere and grilled until oozy... Spears of endive with a dollop of homemade Boursin cheese and garnished with fresh lavender..... Fresh champagne grapes, ripe pear and a wonderful Rogue Creamery Smoky Blue cheese drizzled with cinnamon spiced maple syrup and served with more of that glorious French bread...... Slivers of roasted chicken on apple slices with onion and garlic jam and garnished with fresh lemon thyme... Last but not least...Fresh figs with whipped Marscapone and garnished with honey and just a touch of truffled salt and chopped anise hyssop flowers...... So time is running out and it's off to the store I go! If you want the recipes just ask and know that I'll be thinking of all of you tonight as we enjoy what is surely the start of the most wonderful television series ever! Wishing you an evening of adventure, passion, pleasure and absolute delight.... XoXoXo, Milady “And so, with the assistance of Jenny, ten pails of milk from the dairy shed, three chickens caught from the coop, and four dozen large leeks from the kailyard, I presided over the preparation of cock-a-leekie soup and roasted potatoes for the laird and tenants of Lallybroch. The sun was below the horizon by the time the food was ready, but the sky was still alight, with streaks of red and gold that lanced through the dark branches of the pine grove on the hill. There was a little hesitation when the tenants came face-to-face with the proposed addition to their diet, but the party-like atmosphere—helped along by a judicious keg of home-brewed whisky—overcame any misgivings, and soon the ground near the potato field was littered with the forms of impromptu diners, hunched over bowls held on their knees. “What d’ye think, Dorcas?” I overheard one woman say to her neighbor. “It’s a wee bit queer-tasting, no?” Dorcas, so addressed, nodded and swallowed before replying. “Aye, it is. But the laird’s eaten six o’ the things so far, and they havena kilt him yet.” Excerpt From: Diana Gabaldon. “Dragonfly in Amber.” I love the descriptions of the fields and kitchen at Lallybroch and I've imagined enjoying many a meal there. I love the thought of that warm kitchen in Autumn, with Jenny standing there in her apron cooking and all of the wonderful rich smells that await her family. I can only imagine how Jamie feels, so long away from home, everytime he returns to Lallybroch and it's warm sweet hearths. I want to sit in that drawing room with a glass of cider, a crackling fire and the wind howling outside... With that thought in mind and because It's been such a strange chilly summer , my stomach is telling me that it might be time for a soothing, rich Cock a Leekie soup. This is a very simple traditional Scottish soup,quite easy to make and all it needs is a loaf of good bread and fresh butter to complete it! It's quite good for you too. Onions, leeks and thyme are wonderful immune enhancers and so is fresh chicken stock. The next time you're feeling a little long in the tooth why don't you make a pot of this delicious soup? Every culture has their own version of this healing soup, but I truly love this one the best! A tankard of Thistly Cross Cider IS the perfect accompaniment to a steaming bowl of this soup! Note that I added a few things to the recipe, the Braeburn apple is not traditional but it is delicious addition and so is the fresh lovage! You will need; 1 large knob of butter 1 large onion, chopped Thick bacon- 1 cup small diced Enough chicken stock to cover everything! 3 large leeks sliced ( the white parts~ save the greens for stock) 2 cups of chopped fresh lovage 3 large Braeburn apples, cored, peeled and chopped . 1 cup of chopped prunes 2 cups of long grained white rice 1 pint of buttermilk 1 small soup chicken Salt and Pepper 1 tablespoon of fresh thyme 3 cups of diced herb roasted potatoes Melt 1 tbsp butter in large soup pot over med-high heat. Add onion, bacon and leeks and sauté until soft and golden brown. Stir in stock ,buttermilk, apples, salt , pepper and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and let simmer for about 20 minutes. Add the prunes and the chicken (which you've put into a muslin bag) and simmer for at least an hour and a half until the meat falls off of the bone. Take out the chicken and shred the meat, then put it back into the soup pot. Add the thyme and lovage and simmer for about 10 more minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Ladle into bowls, add about 1/2 a cup of potatoes to each bowl and serve with a loaf of fine bread and a tangy farmstead cheddar! Serves 6 My mother's natural blue gray pearls were actually her mothers pearls and her grandmother's and great grandmothers before her. They are beautiful and longer than opera length, their three strands wrapped around my neck still lay gently beyond my breasts. Even at their advanced age they are lustrous still and smell a bit like the essence of all of the women who have loved them. They are the most beautiful color, silvery blue like the sea before a storm and I've always wondered about the patience of the divers that found them. Because they are natural pearls and at least 120 years old there is a whole other lineage of women that I'm linked to through them, Free Divers who often risked their lives to obtain these coveted beauties. There was no other way to collect pearls before the 20th century and sometimes the divers had to go as deep as 40 to 125 feet into the sea and because of the extremely fickle nature of natural pearl growth, any pearls found were extremely rare. To harvest the pearls that I now wear, women that I've never met had to brave uncertain tides, dangerous creatures and possible hypothermia. More important even than the stories of these pearls are the untold stories that I will never know, but that I can feel. Women who had no other way to feed themselves became pearl divers and were probably paid what amounted to a pennies to fashionably adorn my my grandmothers. I cannot wear them ever without acknowledging their true cost. That being said....they are among the most sensuous things that I own, probably because of the natures of the women who wore them before me. I don't know anything of my great grandmother's except that they wore these to the operas and ballets and fancy balls that they frequented. My grandmother who was dead before I was born but who I am said to most resemble wore them in a slightly different fashion. She was a painter, one of the original women in a famous New York City artists colony at the turn of the century, sensuous and very provocative, at least until she married my grandfather, a kind gentleman farmer who was probably a very settling influence. In this highly unorthodox and very worn sepia photograph there is a woman that I could recognize as myself wrapped naked in a bearskin rug and holding a long cigarette holder. She is draped in pearls.....my pearls. When she died, my mother inherited them and wore them often. She would always wear them draped against gray silk and satin, nestled against her very ample chest. When I miss her the most, I go to my jewelry box and put them on. They still smell of her and it's a wonderful fragrance, lighthearted and giddy like the woman that she was when she was having fun being herself, always the belle of the ball. Someday, I will hopefully have a granddaughter of my own to give them to. I will savor that moment and pass them on with all of the stories. They say that pearls contain the essence of the souls of all who have worn them. In that case I am truly blessed. The women in my family were and are all wild and wonderful and the pearls seem to take on the very wild nature of us all. I remember my mother wearing them once when I accidentally walked into my fathers studio late at night....she was lying like a beautiful odalisque and he was painting her. It was quiet and the canvas shone like his adoration. I've never forgotten that moment and neither have the pearls. They share their stories with me andI'm busy creating my own stories with them and those will be for another time..... |
Beth Schreibman GehringI am obsessed Outlander fan who is also a Freelance Writer,Lover, Foodie, Gardener, Herbalist, Mystic, Aromatherapist, Healer, Blogger and Lover of all things Fragrant.... Archives
October 2014
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