Summer is Coming 2020

I know, I know, it doesn’t seem like summer is coming, not when you consider what my yard looked like on May 9th:

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But as I type this post from my lawn chair while my dog stalks our baby chicks on their “field trip” outside, I can vouch that summer is almost here. (She’s supposed to be one-eighth livestock guardian dog, and she guards them…one-eighth of the time.)

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If you read about the birth of our chicks in my last post, allow me to update you. We hatched eleven of them—and named the eleventh #SpinalTap in tribute. That is her below. (No, I don’t really know her sex, but I hope she grows into a productive egg-layer!)

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How else have I been keeping busy? Just like during sabbatical, I have been cooking a lot. We continue to order from Blue Apron, which is delicious, but now we are also getting a meal kit from Purple Carrot. This is a vegan-based food company that was originally associated with Mark Bittman (and I believe he still partly owns).

purple-carrot-meal-kitNormally, I would be eating from my employer’s dining hall for free during the boarding school year. While I am staying in New Hampshire, though, we are about a thirty-minute drive from a dedicated grocery store. Moreover, even if Market Basket were closer, purchasing ingredients for good dinners is not cheap, even with the values at such an amazing store. (Click the link to understand why this store has developed such a loyal following.)

I also love “cooking by the numbers,” as I call it. We are not going out to eat, not going to the movies, not going out for a drink, and not traveling. This is how I am treating myself. And, best of all, I am learning something. During sabbatical three years aago, I learned how to cook from scratch using Blue Apron, and their meals are restaurant-quality food. Purple Carrot is now teaching me to incorporate more vegetables in my repertoire—and, big plus, shipping those vegetables to me. (Thank you, delivery drivers!)

My first turkey dinner from scratch (in 2018): roast turkey breast on mashed potatoes with sautéed Brussels sprouts and real cranberry sauce, à la Blue Apron.)

Purple Carrot exposes its customers to good vegan substitutes for meat, like seitan. (Beware if you have a gluten allergy, though.) It also teaches me more ways to cook tofu and tempeh. I am not vegan, but I love it all. Best of all, the Purple Carrot menus are very international, including lots of Japanese, Thai, South Asian, Mediterranean, and Mexican dishes (or inspired/fusion). The spices and ingredients are excellent. Blue Apron has a cosmopolitan offering as well. For example, in both kits I’ve recently cooked food with za’atar, a Middle Eastern spice that I’ve loved since living in Lebanon twenty years ago.

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If you cannot go to the store for your greens, why not cook the ones you have? I have enjoyed my limited foraging career. We have plans to get some mushrooms started on an old log in the shade, but right now I am teaching the dandelions who’s boss. They are a bit bitter, but if you blanch them before you sauté them, that helps. Also, serving them with cheese or pine nuts or figs makes them quite yummy. Above is my before-and-after photo…and if you’re wondering about the bread, that’s all Mr. Hallock’s doing:

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I am about to finish my term of online teaching—and, no,  the experience is not the same as in-person instruction, but it has been better than nothing. Most importantly, though, I feel lucky to still have my job. If I have teach online or adapt yet again to a hybrid classroom, I will figure it out. While there are so many people out there suffering and/or risking their lives (shout out to my cousin who is pulmonary specialist on the ICU frontlines), the least I can do is make the best of what I have. Make lemons into lemonade. Or, better for me, make a shandy out of Natty Lite and grapefruit flavoring.

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Or, as Wile E. Dog would tell you: make an old dirty leather glove into the world’s best toy. Stay safe and healthy, everyone!

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Sugar Sun series glossary term #15: pandesal

Pan de sal. Salt bread, literally. Think of them as delicious little rolls that go with anything. My husband made pulled pork shoulder for an American Fourth of July while we lived in the Philippines, and I realized the pandesal was born to be a slider. It was like they were made for our cross-cultural family extravaganza.

Of course, they weren’t. They were made for the Almighty. The Spanish brought wheat flour to the Philippines because how else can you make a proper Christian host for communion without wheat? Early versions were cooked directly on the oven’s red brick floor, according to food historian Felice Prudente Sta. Maria. This method gave the bun a crisp hard shell.

Americans, though, introduced metal pans in the name of hygiene, it is said, resulting in the softer bun which still dominates today. (They also introduced a reliance on American wheat by eliminating tariffs on US goods coming into the Philippines while still charging tariffs on Philippine goods sent to the States. A good old double-standard, but I digress.) Either way, the original pandesals were larger: 9 to 15 centimeters long, 7 to 9 centimeters wide, and 4 to 6 centimeters thick (according to a source in Sta. Maria’s fantastic book, The Governor-General’s Kitchen).

These days, a typical pandesal is about the size of a fist—or the maximum amount of bread you can stuff in your mouth at one time. I’ve tried. Instead of salty, they also tend toward the sweet, some being made with milk or even condensed milk. (This is similar to a Portuguese sweet bread roll, probably an ancestor or cousin of the pandesal.) Finally, they are rolled around in bread crumbs before baking, which gives it a great texture.

They are lovely for dipping in Spanish tsokolate or coffee or anything you want. They are considered by many as the national bread of the Philippines. When fresh and hot, they are manna from heaven.

Creative commons image by Alyssa Sison.