MOVING FORWARD WITH ENERGY

WITH GARLIC IN THE GROUND AND OVEN COOKING EXPLORATIONS

Only last weekend we were in the afterglow of New Years and the huge Wolf moon, with snow and ice and every kind of hard winter upon us.

winter-white roses from my friend Trisha

In the last few days, plenty of rain and much milder temperatures, plus sun that felt warm on the skin at midday, have melted snow off the streets and sidewalks, leaving only an occasional crusty lump here and there. This is not good news for skiers, or for kids with toboggans. But it’s a break for me.

Yesterday I realised that a window of opportunity had opened and that I might finally be able to plant my garlic. I had a lift of the heart. It was good to feel energy, momentum, ambition, enough to power me out into the garden in plastic clogs, spade in hand, to see if the ground was soft enough to dig. The answer was both yes and no. The top inch or two were still a hard layer, a crust made of soil glued together with frozen water. But a sharp jab of my spade was enough to break through to the soft moist earth below. Hurrah! I went into the house, separated some garlic bulbs into cloves, and put them in a pot of lukewarm water to soak

garlic cloves soaking

Back outside, under mild grey skies, I dug two short trenches in the garden, lifting off chunks of the top crusty layer as I went. I was able to lay the soaked cloves in the earth at 8 inch intervals, just as I should have done two months ago. I took a few photos as a record. And once the garlic cloves were all placed, I used the shovel to break up the pieces of crusted earth - bam, bam, bam - then pushed the lumpy cold dirt onto the trenches to cover the garlic generously. I tamped it all down with my feet and the job was done.

little lumps of potential life, and the tool that made it possible

We’ll see if the garlic survives its rough treatment and germinates. Fingers crossed. If it does, I’ll view it as a gift, rather than as an encouragement to procrastinate. After all, it was the exhaustion of grief that kept me from digging the garden in November. Let’s hope next November is a more light-hearted season

a bonus, heartening sighting in the garden yesterday: parsley still green and vital

Tomorrow night I’m flying to Chiang Mai. I’m looking forward to seeing friends again (it’s been two years since I was last there) and to warmth, markets, different aromas, a change of pace. My friend, writer, editor, researcher Simon Thibault, will be house-sitting, so my next task is to make a list of this and that for him (house idiosyncrasies, garbage day, plant watering, etc). I’m so grateful that he can do this. Houses in winter, especially old houses like mine, are prone to many issues, from broken drainpipes to leaks of many kinds. I’m hoping he has a smooth happy stay here.

Looking ahead, I imagine all the patterns large and small that have been embedded in the house this last year now needing to evolve into new patterns, new feelings. I feel a bit naked at the thought of leaving these patterns and this shelter. It’s like an echo of my uncertainty, almost timidity, before my first travel after two years of Covid lockdown

snow plus melting ice crystals this week

There’s rebirth here, and there’s vulnerability too, as I find my way forward. I’m trying to embrace them both.

KITCHEN EXPLORATIONS: of ovens and potatoes and more

The oven comes into its own in cold weather. It’s such a great cook’s tool for many things, not just for baking or for the classic Sunday roast or Christmas turkey. And potatoes have played a big role in my kitchen this last month. (We still have relatively smooth- skinned local spuds here in Toronto, beautiful simply boiled with their skins on.) I have a few examples of recent potato-forward oven-made meals to talk about.

First, boiled potatoes, chopped into large chunks, and roasted with chicken thighs: I prefer bone-in skin-on thighs, or boneless, but always with skin on. I do a simple version of the Kachin chicken recipe in my Burma book: I pound a mix of chopped ginger, garlic, and hot chile with salt in a mortar (or use a processor). Then I spread the mixture onto the chicken thighs and preheat the oven to 400 F/200 C. If you have (freshly cooked or instead leftover) boiled potatoes, strip off the skin, cut them into large chunks, place them on a baking sheet or in a roasting pan, brush them with a little olive oil and sprinkle on salt. Move the chicken onto the pan with the potatoes and cook in the centre of the oven for about one hour. As it cooks the chicken flavours the potato. The combo is terrific. Be sure to make plenty

oven-roasted brussels sprouts

Another possibility is to slice cooled boiled potatoes fairly thinly, brush them with olive oil, sprinkle on salt, and roast them on a baking sheet or roasting pan in a 400 F/200 C oven until browning at the edges. If you have the oven on, you might as well cook other vegetables at the same time: a tray of trimmed sliced brussels sprouts drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with a little fish sauce or salt; wedges of cabbage or a one or two large leeks sliced in half lengthwise and brushed with a little olive oil and fish sauce.

You can serve the vegetables separately or instead try combining a couple. Most recently I sliced and roasted some leftover cooked potato, combined it with coarsely chopped roasted leek, and dressed the combo with a yogurt and vinegar dressing spiked with a touch of soy sauce. It was a lovely surprise. Ideally I’d have had some fresh dill or other herb to sprinkle on top

yogurt-dressed roasted potato and leek; yes it’s brown food, and so delectable

If my small kitchen explorations here give you the urge to embark on exploring more ways to make use of your oven, there are many resources to help. I don’t own British food writer Diana Henry’s book From the Oven to the Table, but I’m sure there are loads of excellent recipes and ideas in there.

an orchid that Tashi’s friend Aram brought to the hospital in late October, still in bloom

AND A NOTE: A week ago, on the first Sunday in January, there was a Sacred Harp home singing at my house. We were 12 people, of varied experience. We sang from both the Shenandoah and Northern Harmony books. There were many familiar tunes, and others we were sight-reading. A lovely challenge and a pleasure. Singing is such a reviver; I felt it literally helped bring me back to life.

A SECOND NOTE: My friend Hilary gave me this book over Christmas. It’s a classic in Japan, won a mystery story prize in 1960. The translation into English is very fluid and seamless. Why am I mentioning it? Because it was perfect time travel, not reconstructed history, but written in and set in an era, the late fifties, which feels very remote in terms of patterns of daily life in Japan. It’s a great read.