FRESH FEELINGS EACH SEASON

WITH A SIDE OF SLOW-COOKED LAMB PLUS NETTLE DISCOVERIES

I’m having trouble getting started on this post. We’ve had rain and cold and grey weather until today, but none of that is the reason I’m a bit lost for words. I think it’s because the week was full of people and feelings that I am still reflecting on, as I re-live the flow of conversations, thoughts, and memories.

back garden hyacinth that returns each spring

Tashi’s older brother Dom, who lives in Vancouver, was here all week until Friday, his first visit since the Christmas holidays. It was great to have time with him. But now as we are fully into spring, with its brilliant new leaves, plum blossom and tender pink and white cherry blossoms brightening the city, we both feel burdened afresh by bereftness. Our first spring without Tashi is a hard reality.

first cherry blossoms this year, by Robarts Library

Friends dropped by each day in the afternoon for conversation. There were cookies and other things to snack on. The afternoon visitors would sometimes, and pleasureably, overlap with those coming for supper. People of all ages were here because Dom was visiting, and because Tashi’s presence and absence draws them to the house. It’s lovely for me, a treat, a balm, a gift. I am very grateful that threads of love and friendship continue among us all, connecting us still.

hellebore in the back garden

[And a recommendation: There’s a wonderful account on Instagram called @thegrieftable. The posts are short videos by a woman who lost her son and who is clear and analytical about the ways in which our bodies and minds express and respond to grief. Highly recommended.]

earliest stages of horse chestnut leaves and flowers, just emerging; new life to sustain us

KITCHEN EXPLORATIONS: talk of leftovers and lamb, plus nettles

Because of our many visitors, it’s been a week of cooking for a small crowd each night, a reminder of the patterns of last year. I realise that I developed reflexes then that I can still rely on: the scaling up of dishes, the stretching what I’ve cooked when extra people turn up, etc. But on Thursday I misjudged quantities. And that meant that there was no leftover rice. I cannot remember ever reaching the bottom of the rice pot at suppertime. It feels like a rule that there should always be plenty, with extra left at the end of the meal, so that I know everyone has eaten their fill. And I love leftover rice and depend on it. But this time the rice pot was completely empty. I felt a bit embarrassed.

I love this lane art, by Bickford Park. He’s not embarrassed, just cruising!

Do you aim to have leftovers? Or do you hope that everything works out evenly and tidily? I’m interested to know how other people think about these things.

I remember during university that I’d sometimes be invited for Sunday lunch at my aunt’s house. She’d make exactly enough: a small roast of something that was precisely geared to providing for those at the table, with nothing left over. Perhaps my aunt knew that her husband disliked leftovers. Perhaps she didn’t want the hassle of putting them away afterwards..

At the time I wondered how she managed to judge her quantities so exactly.. But since then I’ve come to understand that of course guests restrain themselves and share fairly, if they’re reasonable people and not starving. Everyone gets fed adequately, even if portions aren’t generous. But if there are no leftovers, there’s no way of knowing if people had enough or are still hungry at the end of the meal.

slow cooked lamb, cut up after cooking and waiting to be dished out

Because of the visitors we expected through the afternoon, I wanted to make something simple for that Thursday meal, something that required little care and attention. The answer was slow-cooked lamb. I had a small fresh shoulder roast and another small unlabeled lamb roast in the freezer. They fit side-by-side in my heavy Staub pot, so I loosely followed the recipe for that’s in my Salt book. There the roast is rubbed with a mixture of chopped ingredients that are then pounded in a mortar or ground in the processor: preserved lemon (I used plain lemon because I’m out of preserved lemon), garlic, rosemary, anchovies, olive oil, salt. The lamb cooks in a heavy casserole with the lid on at about 350F, bathed in some wine and with carrots added partway through. The whole thing takes two hours or more, but with no attention or work needed, so it’s ideal when there’s a crowd. Once the lamb is done it’s easy to cut it up. It’s a good idea to have rice t soak up all the lovely juices/gravy.

roast carrot & radicchio salad with sorrel; roast cauliflower

I took advantage of the oven being on to roast a sheet pan of cauliflower drizzled with olive oil and fish sauce. The cauliflower went out as a separate vegetable. I roasted carrots too, then combined them with chopped radicchio to make a salad. The dressing was a blend of tahini and yogurt, with a little lemon juice, olive oil, and salt. Chopped sorrel newly sprung to life in the garden was a nice extra on the salad.

If people were hungry from a shortage of rice, there was ice cream in several flavours plus a cherry tart with hazelnut frangipane that Dawnthebaker baked once the lamb and vegetables were done.

How lucky and warming to sit for supper with a room full of people talking, laughing, discussing, that a year ago would have included Tashi. Life goes on, enriched and enriching.

star tulip in my neighbour’s front garden

and nettles:

Yesterday afternoon several of us picked young nettles at our friend Carole’s place. We wore gloves, had no bare skin in contact with the nettles, and seem to have avoided getting stung. the picking was very easy for the plants were very small and tender. They broke off easily, and then each of us had a bag to drop them into. I’ve used them in a tea, but I had never gathered them early in spring, when they’re best for eating.

young nettles where I was picking; fresh nettles at shome the next morning

This morning I went online to a foraging site, foragerchef.com to get better informed. The best way to get rid of the stinging (caused by structures in the leaf called trichomes, according to foragerchef) is to either quickly blanche them or else steam them. I wanted to compare the methods, so I did some of each. They’re beautiful, brilliant strong green, once steamed or blanched.

steamed (for about 3 minutes) on the left and blanched (in salted water for about 1 minute) on the right

Now I have a stash of nettle greens to use for making pesto or perhaps a soup, or a frittata or omelet. These processed greens can be frozen, apparently, for longer keeping. I’ll do that with some of them.

Impatient to work with them, late this morning I heated a little olive oil gently in a cast-iron skillet and added a chopped garlic clove. I chopped some of the steamed nettle finely and put it in with the garlic. I added butter to the pan (yes it sure does make a smoother fried egg) and fried two eggs. Breakfast of the greens and eggs with toast was delicious… I already feel very rewarded for the nettle-foraging and processing!