Frittata... WITH MEEEEEEEEEEEEEAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

If you discovered my blog sometime within the past week, you may have been duped into thinking I'm a vegetarian. Not so. I'm just a pauper who gives a damn what she puts in her mouth, and if I have to sacrifice something to lower my grocery bill, meat it is. I refuse to buy the cheap stuff that comes from inhumane, unsustainable, and unhealthy factory farms.

But when my mom is charitable enough to give me a pack of nitrate-free, hormone-free Applegate Farms turkey bacon, I ain't gonna turn it down.

As a matter of fact, I may have been overzealous with it in this case:

Yup, that's for one frittata. Singular. Bearing in mind that there were two other fatty sources of protein (cheese and eggs) present as well.

But hey, how was I supposed to know turkey bacon doesn't shrink like regular bacon?

On the plus side, I think both my husband and I made ourselves sick enough off it to get through the rest of the week feeling grateful for our chickpeas and red beans.

Here's how to make the same frittata I made. If you're not a card-carrying Atkins dieter, you may want to reduce the amount of bacon. And if you're among those feeling betrayed because you thought I was always going to be here for you with meatless recipes, feel free to throw in some tofu bacon or whatever it is you folks with will power like. (Anyone still confused regarding the name of my blog, please feel free to check out this post.)

Frittata With Turkey Bacon, Watercress, Shallot, & Swiss Cheese

Ingredients

3 eggs

1 Tbsp. plain yogurt or Oikos

1 Tbsp. olive oil

1 shallot, chopped

4 strips turkey bacon, chopped

1 c. watercress, chopped

1/2 c. Swiss cheese, diced

Directions

Heat your broiler.

Beat the eggs and yogurt together in a mixing bowl. Set aside.

In a large pan or skillet with an ovenproof handle, heat the olive oil on medium. Add the shallot and saute two minutes. Add the bacon and saute two minutes more. Add the watercress and saute three to four minutes more, or until the onions are soft and translucent and the bacon is thoroughly browned.

Turn the heat down to medium-low and distribute the cheese throughout the pan.

Stir the egg mixture and pour it over the pan's contents. Tilt the pan around to distribute evenly.

Within a few minutes, you should start to see bubbles all over the frittata. At this point, tilt the pan again to check for doneness. You should be able to see a layer of cooked egg underneath the raw that comes about halfway up your fixins.

Stick the pan under the broiler for two minutes or until it has just begun to brown on top. Remove the pan and immediately plate the frittata to keep the bottom from overcooking. To do this, shove a spatula in at the edge and rotate the pan so that the frittata comes loose (you may have to dig under it a little to free it, especially in spots where there are big hunks of cheese). Position the pan low over the serving platter so that the edge is even with where you want the edge of the frittata to end up. Tilt the pan and shake it gently. When the frittata is about halfway off, you can guide it a little with your spatula to ensure that it doesn't break in half.

Voila!

Serves 4-6 as an appetizer, 2 as a main course.

My husband and I split this for dinner. The watercress shrank a lot more than I thought it was going to, so to round out the meal, we each had some roast eggplant tossed with a handful of basil and a standard Balsamic vinaigrette. This versatile dressing/sauce/marinade is so easy I could make it in my sleep without even taking that creepy medicine that makes you sleepwalk. Just whisk three parts olive oil to one part Balsamic vinegar with a dash of dijon mustard to emulsify.

Now, how is it that a pauper like me can afford fancy-schmancy produce like shallots and The Incredible Shrinking Watercress? I must be quite the hypocrite, huh? Perhaps, but not in this case. I mentioned the other day that, thanks to a tip from a reader, I discovered a great local market in the Orlando/Winter Park area called Harvill's. All the produce I bought earlier this week came from within the state of Florida... and here's the best part:

My total for enough fruit, veggies, and herbs to feed two for a week was TWELVE DOLLARS.

If that sounds pretty standard to you, bear in mind that my husband and I do not eat like normal people. There's no cereal, pretzels, salsa, jars of spaghetti sauce, etc. in our house. When we snack, we snack on fruit and peanuts the way the cavemen did it. When I make a tomato-based sauce, it's from tomatoes and herbs. And I have a salad for lunch pretty much every day. So imagine my elation to spend TWELVE DOLLARS on what normally comprises the vast majority of my grocery bill. TWELVE DOLLARS. I'm just going to keep saying it until I believe it. TWELVE DOLLARS...

On another positive note (TWELVE DOLLARS), I am exceedingly proud of how well my food photography is coming along. I have a secret, which I will reveal to you at some point in the future I'm sure. But for now, here are a few extra shots that I liked and couldn't find anywhere to include in the body of the post:

Drop by tomorrow for a stellar Chickenless Cook of the Week, and start racking your brain about what to do for the TV Dinner challenge.

TWELVE DOLLARS!!

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Chickenless Cook of the Week: Anonymous

That's right, anonymous. No pictures. No name. No identifying features whatsoever. Just a lovely stock photo of cows in a field.

Now, it's not that this person chooses to remain anonymous... on the contrary, his home page has his name and picture right on the banner. I'm the fussy freddy behind all the discretion, and with good reason. This week's chickenless cook is technically a criminal.

First, a crash course in civics:

A long, long time ago, back when people didn't understand what germs were and thought they were the work of the devil or something, they used to keep their dairy cows in unsanitary conditions and feed them items that the FDA would not deem safe for their consumption today. (Not that the condition of your average cow is so hot in the US at present, either; but for the sake of argument, let's say dairy farms are basically cleaner than they were at the turn of the century). Folks in cities frequently got sick from milk that had been transported from rural areas. Up sprung the practices of pasteurization and homogenization. Big bad creepy-crawlies like typhoid stayed out of the milk supply, farmers were still allowed to transport their milk long distances, and for a long time everyone was content with the arrangement.

But as Bob Dylan would say, "Don't speak too soon for the wheel's still in spin." Today, organizations like Real Milk argue vehemently that the benefits of raw dairy outweigh the risks, as long as sanitary standards are upheld.

Trouble is, they're not allowed to test this theory. Sale of raw dairy for human consumption is illegal in a number of areas throughout Europe and the United States, all the territories of Australia, and all the territories of Canada. In my home state of Florida, only criminals deal in the raw.

Enter my anonymous cook of the week.

An acupuncturist by trade, he started volunteering on farms years ago, and developed a side business selling local products such as fruits, vegetables, herbs, and- you guessed it- raw dairy. Anyone who wants to partake can sign up on his website. Every two weeks he schleps around picking up from farms (all are within a three-hour radius). Customers can then pick up their pre-ordered contraband at his Altamonte Springs home.

Let's take a side trip and discuss the logistics of this business for a moment. Surely he uses less gas fetching your food from local sources than a chain grocery store uses importing your food across the globe. Thumbs up so far. However, those thumbs are attached to hands that are not "on". You still won't understand where your food comes from, any more than if you had bought it at Super Wal-Mart. You won't get to judge for yourself the living conditions of any animals involved, or whether the fertilizer they use on their plants is organic. You are entrusting your health and ethics to a third party. Thumbs down on that- no matter how trustworthy your third party happens to be, perpetuating a "get it all in one spot" mindset discourages diligent research and, by extension, responsible eating.

So far, I have thumbs pointing in each direction. Here's where your thumbs come in.

I considered expense when deciding whether or not to use this service. When you buy directly from a farmer, there's no middleman to jack up the price. Now, if you're a busy person, chances are it's either because you have a job that keeps you that way or are a single parent with a steadily-working spouse. In either case, you may find it worth paying a bit more for the convenience of attaining assuredly-local food from one source. In my case... well, I have more time than money, so my thumbs went down. This is a personal rather than a societal consideration, and I thought it would interest my readers to spread the idea around. Perhaps you would like to patronize a business like this in your neck of the woods. Perhaps you would even like to start one. In either case, I would strongly support you, even though I don't happen to be the ideal customer for your services.

I would also like to hear from your thumbs as far as the legal issue is concerned. We're moving back into the realm of societal consideration now, but the reason I saved this for last is because I'm not sure where I stand in the raw dairy debate. I am more than okay with the legal sale of booze and cigarettes, so long as their labels clearly warn of the health hazards. But I'm not crazy about the idea of selling something that could cause a typhoid outbreak. Potential benefits include increased nutritional value and assistance with immunization... both important, to be sure, but worth being legally allowed to place your children in danger of life-threatening disease?

If that were the whole story, I would say no. But I don't know the whole story.

What have you heard? I understand that mostly small farms engage in this activity, so is it possible that the risks of consuming raw dairy are being exaggerated by lobbyists working for large corporations? Or are raw dairy traffickers a health menace, as deserving of punishment for their crimes as drug dealers?

In an earlier post, I asked you to leave a kind word for my cook of the week; and I would still ask that if you can't say something nice about him personally, don't say anything at all. I chose him for a reason: because he is one chickenless SOB. No matter what can be said about the legality of his business practices, I personally admire him for helping people get the local foods they appreciate and deserve.

That being said, would you use a service like his? If not, is it due to any of the factors I've mentioned, or is there something I haven't considered? What is your opinion on raw dairy in general? On local dieting? Please feel free to leave a comment or write dontbeawuss@gmail.com.

Thanks for taking the time to read this in between trips to the costume shop or the party supply store. Happy Halloween and look forward to hearing your thoughts!

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Witnessing the Final Days of Organic Farms?

And here I thought my blog wasn't big enough to get noticed! The lovely people of Costco must have seen my post about being up shit creek financially. This exclusive invite arrived in the mail today. Wow, "Join Costco as an executive member by Nov. 29, 2009, and receive a $20 Costco cash card." Well, okay, Costco, but don't expect a shining review of your grocery section just because you buttered me up with a "special offer."

Last night my husband and I had another one of those touchy discussions about our finances that makes me cry. We decided we could swing one more month at the house if we make some serious budget cutbacks. Even if I don't have a sufficient workload by then (for those of you who don't know, I'm a freelance writer, so my income is subject to fluctuation), at least we will be more prepared for a move and it will be on more comfortable terms.

So what do budget cutbacks mean? Well, for starters, strict organic dieting will be out of the question for awhile. I find it sad that, in this country at least, the organic food movement is considered a luxurious lifestyle choice. I understand that organic farms lose more of their crops to pests, which drives up the price. However, I can't help but think it's also a result of demand in the wealthier classes. In general, people who have money to spend go to Whole Foods; people who don't go to Costco. And they're happy that way. When I go to "review" the grocery section at Costco, chances are I'll be the only customer even looking for organic fruits and vegetables.

When did treating one's body right become a trend among the well-off? Before there was such a thing as government certification programs, organic food was the cheapest of all. It was the food that you grew yourself, or that your neighbors grew and sold to a local market. It wasn't a trend, it was a way of life. All the fancy restaurants served exotic dishes. If you wanted something grown far away, you had to pay dearly for it. Isn't that how it should be? What's changed?

What's changed is that the world has gotten bigger. And now that the world is big- anyone at all curious about what foie gras is can do a Google search and yield over 3 million results- the trendsetting folks at the top of the financial pyramid, those with the time and inclination to pursue food as hobby, are experiencing their typical ennui. "What happened to those simple times?" they ask. "What happened to fresh apples plucked right from the tree in your backyard? What happened to those adorable old men with grubby hands and suspenders selling watermelons off the backs of their trucks in summer?" And so all that stuff is coming back, but not the way it used to be. This time, it's expensive. This time, because the world is big, organic organizations think they ought to sell big. In other words, the ultimate goal is to go wholesale-same as any other farm.

For now, it seems like a good business decision on their part, despite the fact that running a commercial organic farm is costlier than running a commercial farm that dumps pesticides all over everything and calls it a day. Organic farmers have to pay more attention to which crops they grow and when; employ creative pest solutions; and understand that, no matter what, they will lose a greater percentage of crops than conventional farms. It's natural that they should charge a little more, and because the trend among the wealthy is leaning that way, it's an investment many farmers are willing to make.

In his The Collapse of Complex Societies, Joseph Tainter asserts that the bigger an organization gets, the more it has at stake and the more likely it is to fail. I find this interesting because we as working Westerners (many of you reading this are monetizing bloggers, which means you are entrepreneurial Westerners to boot) tend to believe there are nothing but benefits when it comes to expansion. I'll be the first to admit that I started this blog hoping to grow my readership over time. Not necessarily for money purposes, but because... well, how else are you going to know you do a good job? So the focus was not merely on sustainability, but on growth; and that's the way it is for plenty of folks. Our entire economy here in the States and in many other Western countries focuses on growth. If you don't have growth, you're nothin.'

So what are some of the drawbacks to non-local sale of organic produce? Well, for starters, if you're shipping in bulk, you're going against organic principles by using a ton of gasoline. Already the trend is starting to shift from "just organic" to "local and organic" as those consumers who can afford to be picky become more aware of this hypocrisy. And the ones who can't afford it, as we already mentioned, tend not to even be interested in affording it. They think, "That organic stuff is just for rich snobs. I'll take my Bubba burgers and Bud Light any day, thank you." Obviously I am generalizing here, but if you think it's an untrue generalization, ask around in a low-income neighborhood. There's a sense of pride that comes with being able to score food cheap, to rough it while the "snobs" eat organic with their pinkies in the air.

So where does that leave large organic farms? Nowhere. Once the "just organic" trend passes among the upper classes, they're toast without a local customer base. Bankrupt. Kaputt.

Solution? If organic farming is your passion, buy a small plot of land. Maybe even suburban or urban land. Grow as much as you can using as little space as possible. If you already have a big, complicated commercial farm, sell it now. Focus on sustainability. Offer your product locally. Sell at flea markets and farmers' markets. Do CSAs. Barter with your neighbors. Subsist on your own crops and the ones you trade for on a local level. Instead of feeding into the societal delusion that we've traveled back to a time when old men with grubby hands and suspenders sold watermelons off the backs of their trucks, become the real thing. Take that plunge. Will you get rich? No. But according to Tainter, getting rich is just making it more complicated for yourself. You'll have further to fall: more land and more customers equals more loans to repay, more shipping costs to cover, more orders to screw up, more equipment to break, more staff to compensate, more pests to kill, more at stake if your crops fail, more at stake if the trend you've chosen to capitalize on passes, more migraines... to quote a popular permaculturist slogan, "work makes work." The more complicated you make it for yourself, the worse off you will be in the long run.

I look forward to hearing all your thoughts on this. I've touched on some controversial politics here, so if you don't want to leave a public comment, feel free to write dontbeawuss@gmail.com. As always, thanks so much for visiting!

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Home Again!

I promised pictures from Virginia. Above is one of a tractor. You can find more at Doveland Farm. Hint: If you love animals, it's worth taking a peek.

We had a great time and feel indebted to our host, Sandra, who barely made us raise a finger. She housed us, cooked for us, showed us around the area, and even taught us the ancient mystical art of buying stuff at auction and flipping it. We got a 40s era radio and record player for forty bucks and are commissioning our engineer buddy to turn it into an MP3 player. I'll put pictures up when it's done so you can bask in its vintage elegance and get in touch if you're interested... though I'll tell you right now it may challenge my husband to part with it when the time comes.

On to more food-related matters!

Here in FL we have to solarize our soil to keep nematodes from latching onto our veggies' roots and sucking their little veggie lives away. For months I've been meaning to start a small herb patch that wouldn't need such extravagant treatment. On Monday, I finally got around to planting some parsley and chives. Hooray!

I've been reading up on home permaculture, and the number one point every author makes is that nothing will look like you think it should. There are no nice, neat little rows in this type of gardening. If your yard looks like a forest, you're doing it right.

So, am I doing it right? In the picture below, do my parsley and chives look planned, or like they just sprung up?

I know I promised to update you on the mystery project taking place in our yard. All I can tell you is that the site of said project has moved- it will now be located nearer the house. We'll probably get started on that tonight when my husband gets home from work. Exciiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitedddddddddd.

In the meantime, we dug a few beds at the old site of the mystery project. Like my herb garden, there will be no discernible rows, just lots and lots of symbiotic foods growing close together. We are currently solarizing the beds:

Solarization involves turning the earth a bit, then laying sheets of opaque plastic over the exposed soil and weighing it down to keep weeds from creeping in at the edges. As you can see, my husband and I can't afford to visit Home Depot right now, so we cut up garbage bags and weighed them down with everything from scavenged planks to beer bottles. That fence you see in the background? Yup, you'd better believe our neighbors just put it up today. The instant we have enough mature veggies to fill a gift basket, they're getting one on their doorstep. Thanks for not demanding that we clean up our hillbilly mess, neighbors!!

One last update: we're spending this weekend at Green Flamingo. Probably fishing and barbequing, in addition to volunteering on the farm. I get to eat fish again! (As mentioned previously, I seldom buy fish at the grocery store.) It's gonna be sweeeeeeet. Will have pics Monday.

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Baba Ganoush Floridian with Black-Eyed Peas and Rosa Bianca Eggplant

I am happy to report that one of the main components of this dip/spread, the rosa bianca eggplant, was purchased at my farmers' market from a grower out of Lake Wales (approximately forty-five-minutes from my Orlando home). The black-eyed peas, however, I am not sure about. I bought them at Publix, which is one of the most popular grocery chains down here in the Southeast. The label claimed they were "distributed by Publix Supermarkets/Lakeland, FL." On the one hand, there is a good possibility that they were grown in Lakeland; many of the chain's generic products are. But if they weren't... do I really want to support that kind of local-washing? Not to mention the fact that Publix is a far-reaching corporation; a shopper in Tennessee can purchase the very same beans that I can. Which I definitely don't support. When you spend money on produce, it should go back into your community, not into the pocket of a CEO thousands of miles from you.

The only sure way to avoid inadvertently contributing your dollars to this practice is to grow it your damned self. My husband and I have decided on a tentative design for our backyard garden, which is based on the mandala model he read about in The Permaculture Home Garden by Linda Woodrow. However, it will also make use of aquaponics, a principle we are currently learning from Toolbox for Sustainable City Living, which I mentioned a few days ago in this post. (So far it's a fascinating read... will have the book review up soon!)

I cannot tell you how badly I am geeking out over this. Someday soon I will be using my own black-eyed peas in this recipe. No more dependence on big chains. No more wussiness. Only tasty, tasty baba ganoush.

Baba Ganoush Floridian with Black-Eyed Peas and Rosa Bianca Eggplant

Ingredients

1 medium rosa bianca eggplant, cubed

1 1/2 c. fresh or reconstituted dried black-eyed peas

1 large or 2 small cloves garlic, pressed

1 Tbsp. tahini

1/3 c. plain yogurt (whole milk or oikos)

1/4 tsp. black pepper

Salt to taste

Directions

Preheat oven to 425. Salt eggplant cubes and roast in a single layer on a nonstick surface for 20 minutes. Meanwhile, simmer the black-eyed peas in water or stock over medium heat until soft. They should be done around the same time as the eggplant. Let both cool completely before proceeding.

Drain the beans, reserving 2 Tbsp. liquid. Place all ingredients, including reserved bean liquid, in a food processor and process until well-blended but still thick. Complements crudites, pita triangles, toasts, and other appetizer foods; also makes a delicious sandwich spread. Black-eyed peas loooove spice, so try sauteing a chopped or sliced jalapeno with onions or garlic as a topping. Serves 6-8.

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Sea Salt

It was exactly as easy as I thought it would be. Used a simple doubled-over cheesecloth to filter. 32 oz of ocean water took about an hour to boil down and yielded a little less than a shakerful.

I thought it would smell like the beach in my hou

se while it was boiling down, but it kind of just smelled like soup. Maybe I make my soup too salty.

Used it in a lamb braise this evening... yum yum!

On the minus side, look what it did to my pot:

Luckily, it didn't take that much elbow grease to clean out.

Overall, I vote it's much worth the effort, so long as your mom lives on the beach and you visit her frequently. For those of you who don't match that description... I dunno. Get some salt mining tools.

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Take THAT, Malabar Spinach

Herbed Malabar Spinach Flans Topped with Sweet-n-Spicy Roast Peanuts

Ingredients:

1/3 c. shredded Malabar spinach, well packed

1 Tbsp. minced fresh parsley leaves

¼ tsp. fresh thyme

1 garlic clove, pressed

Pinch salt

1 egg

1 Tbsp. + 1 tsp. whole milk

1 Tbsp. + 1 tsp. heavy cream

¼ c. grated Parmesan cheese

Handful shelled peanuts

Pinch dried cayenne

Drizzle honey

Salt-n-pepper

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375.

Smash the hell out of the Malabar spinach with a mortar and pestle until its insides bleed out and it is purged of all its un-spinach-like evil. Add the parsley, thyme, garlic, and salt and do it AGAIN, just to make sure its dead. Let sit for about 15-20 minutes at room temperature; partially to let the flavors mingle, and partially to be sure that the spinach has learned its freaking lesson.

Beat the egg, milk, cream, and parm together. Add the spinach goop and beat again. And again. And again.

Grease or spray two individual-serving-sized casserole dishes or oven-safe molds. Pour in mixture and bake 25 minutes or until toothpick comes out clean when inserted. Wait ten minutes for the flans to cool. Meanwhile, toss the peanuts well with salt, pepper, cayenne, and honey. Stick them in the oven while the flans are cooling. When the flans are cool, remove the peanuts from the oven and carefully overturn the flans onto serving plates. Top with hot peanuts. Shout maniacally, “Bwa-ha-ha, Malabar spinach! You thought you were so tough, didn’t you? Well, look who’s laughing NOW!!”, then serve. Makes two flans (Aww…)

Thanks a million to Citron et Vanille, who reminded me that savory flans exist.

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Salt, Books, and Pineapples (Not a Recipe)

Did I neglect to mention that I live in an unmatched subtropical paradise? This pic was taken in the town where I was raised, about an hour's drive from where I currently reside. Go ahead, it's okay to be jealous (all two of you who aren't also Floridians).

I started thinking the other day about how to include "extras" like sugar and salt in a local diet and discovered that, according to numerous amateurs with internet access, making one's own sea salt is a snap. It's just filter and boil; ba-da-bang, ba-da-boom. Apparently it takes about 2 liters to make 6 oz., so for my test run, the contents of this 32 oz. pistachio container should suffice.

In case you were worried about me wasting an hour's worth of gas to make this trip for a few lousy ounces of salt, I was in town visiting my mom anyway, so ha.

Results will be in by this weekend. Stay tuned!

In other news, I'm excited that I didn't have to wait for Christmas to pick up these books.

The Urban Homestead by Kelly Coyne and Erik Knutzen, and Toolbox for Sustainable City Living by Scott Kellogg and Stacy Pettigrew. Both are available on Amazon if you'd like to read along with me. Book reviews imminent.

Now I leave you with this picture of a pineapple I brought to Green Flamingo yesterday for planting.

Mmm, pineapple. I even brought it in the box that the books came in, since Liz and Mary spread flattened boxes underneath their soil to keep weeds from coming through. So I am already developing more of a waste-not-want-not mentality. Go me!!

If you have an inspiring true DIY story about farming/gardening, home saltmaking, urban homesteading, or anything else you'd like me to share, please let me know. Also, starting next Friday, I will be paying tribute to a Chickenless Cook of the Week. Despite the name, this honor may go to any non-celebrity engaged in any food-related profession or hobby who demonstrates a healthy sense of adventure. I said this blog would not follow a single diet philosophy, and I stick by that; so don't be afraid to email me suggestions for non-locavores. Anyone who uses food to make you go, "Yowza!" is eligible.

Now quit reading and go cook something already.

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Farm-Fresh Malabar Spinach With Broccoli and Red Onions in Garlic Cream Sauce

I was disappointed to learn that, even lightly steamed and served in an "Ow! Sweet merciful Dionysus, my arteries!" sauce, Malabar spinach has the same texture as sinus-infection lougies. Major bummer, being that the rest of this side dish was THE BOMB. Next time I'll steam the hell out of it, despite my compulsive wariness of overcooking.

Farm-Fresh Malabar Spinach With Broccoli and Red Onions in Garlic Cream Sauce

Ingredients:

2 c. broccoli florets

½ red onion, sliced thin or diced large

Approx. 2 c. well-packed Malabar spinach (why, oh, why don’t I have a kitchen scale yet? And don’t give me any of that “because your grocery bill is too high as it is” nonsense!)

3 Tbsp. chicken drippings or clarified butter

3-4 cloves garlic, chopped

2 Tbsp. flour

½ c. milk

½ c. heavy cream

Salt-n-pepper

Directions

Steam the veggies separately, then combine (the onion can be steamed with the broccoli if desired, but the spinach will take a much shorter time).

Meanwhile, heat the drippings or butter in a small saucepan over medium-low heat. Add the garlic and sauté until soft. Whisk in the flour. Continue whisking until you’ve made a roux the color of brown sugar. Add the milk and cream. Continue whisking until the sauce thickens. Remove from heat.

While they’re still hot, salt and pepper the veggies to taste. Add the sauce to the veggies slowly, stirring as you go (you will probably have leftover sauce.) Serves 4 as a side dish.

Any extra sauce will keep for a few days in the fridge; and in fact, like many garlicky sauces, it’s better as a leftover. It’s good with chicken, root veggies, pasta, rice… the list goes on. Stir well before serving.

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Pick Your Battles

Reading over some of my posts, I've discovered that I look like a big fat hypocrite. In one sentence I'm telling you that I have to know where my food comes from; in another, I'm telling you I just broke out a can of coconut milk from coconuts that were likely grown thousands of miles away on an unfamiliar farm. And I don't have a lick of defense.

I started this blog to learn things like that about myself. The citizens of every culture are conditioned by their media to care about specific issues. Animal rights is a big one here in the States, as are the organic and localized agriculture movements. We also hear a good deal about the dangers of overfishing. So like many concerned American cooks, I seek out the local growers at my Sunday farmers' market; and what I don't find there, I buy from the organic produce section at my neighborhood grocery. My meat has to be hormone-free and grass-fed. I buy cage-free eggs only. I tend to steer clear of fish unless I personally know who caught it.

Then, also like many concerned American cooks, I go home and wash my carefully-screened animal and vegetable products down with non-organic beer from Mexico. Because I have not been specifically guilted into giving up non-organic beer from Mexico.

The point is, I learn something new every day about food that appalls me... and yet I still have to eat. My husband and I have not yet saved up enough money or gained enough experience to live on a farm, so we're stuck here in the suburbs of downtown Orlando, depending on others for sustenance. I am forced to pick my battles.

I plan to pick a hell of a lot more of them from now on.

Expect to see some changes in the coming months. Expect to see me start using this blog the way it's intended, to encourage chickenlessness in myself and others. Expect to see a backyard garden and other examples of urban homesteading. Expect to see me volunteering on more farms. Expect pickier recipes.

(Just don't expect me to give up my beer.)

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

The Chickenless Chick: Volunteer Farmer

The non-wussiest place that I get food is Green Flamingo Organics. In order to grow this parsley and many of my fridge's other contents, two chickenless ladies named Liz and Mary toil daily in the Florida sun, surrounded by Florida bugs, sacrificing Florida indoor plumbing, to achieve their dream of a sustainable farm life. As of a few weeks ago, so do I, as a volunteer; and I encourage every cook to seek out a similar experience. I could extoll the benefits of supporting local agriculture, but my husband talks many of your ears off about this on a daily basis. So here's a motive that has more to do with the theme of this blog: You'll develop a new appreciation for weird food. Allow me to demonstrate.

Do you know what this is?

It's Malabar spinach. That's right, spinach. I had no idea spinach grew on a vine like that. Now, when I got it home, I learned that this particular type releases a gelatin-textured substance into your mouth when you chew it. A few weeks ago, I would have been grossed out. But because I worked on this spinach myself, crushing the berries in my hands and scattering the seeds on the ground, I wanted to like it. I pictured how idyllic it was out there on the farm, how the landscape would have missed it if it were gone. So yesterday I brought home more. And if I don't like what I do with it this week, I'm going to bring home more still.

Palette-expanding, no? I'm rather proud.

I believe that creamed spinach or another more gelatin-textured dish may be in order. If you have any ideas, feel free to let me know. And be sure to visit Doveland Farm for more pics of Green Flamingo.

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.

Down-Home-Style Thai Chicken Soup

Some of you on Doveland Farm may remember this picture:

It's called Down-Home-Style Thai Chicken Soup. I invented it after the lovely Elizabeth and Mary of Green Flamingo Organics gave me an SUVload of okra that I had no idea what to do with. Of course, since this blog is all about inspiration, I won't be offended if you don't follow the recipe verbatim. I encourage you to play around with the concept and email me with pics of your results!

Down-Home-Style Thai Chicken Soup

Ingredients

3 Tbsp. butter, divided

1 white or yellow onion, diced large

2 c. sliced okra

3 carrots, peeled and sliced

1 celery rib, sliced

3 cloves garlic, chopped

Generous handful Thai basil leaves, shredded

10 ripe tomatoes, cored, seeded, and diced; or 1 24-oz. box No Salt Added diced tomatoes (I prefer Pomi)

2 c. chicken stock

Juice of 1 lime

2 chicken breasts cut into bite-sized pieces

1 c. pre-cooked rice

1 12-oz. can coconut milk

Salt-n-pepper

Hot sauce to taste (check out www.aefoods.com for some excellent all-natural varieties)

Directions

Melt 2 tbsp. of the butter in a stew pot over medium heat. Add the onions, okra, carrots, and celery. Sauté until the onions are translucent. Salt and pepper.

Add the garlic and basil to the pot and saute 2-3 minutes more. Add the tomatoes, chicken stock, and lime juice. Raise the heat and bring to a vigorous boil, then reduce heat to medium low. Let simmer 35-45 minutes. (Add more broth or water a couple tbsp. at a time if it starts to get low.)

Meanwhile, melt the remaining tbsp. of butter in a separate pan. Season the chicken pieces generously with salt and pepper, then brown them in the pan over medium heat.

Add chicken and rice to the pot. Cook 10 minutes more.

Add the coconut milk, and salt to taste. Cook until heated through and serve. Remember to pass hot sauce around at the table. Serves 6 as an entree.

Beat the eggs. Whip the cream. Show no mercy.