Mommy's Little Darlings

Okay, Mother's Day is quickly receding in our mental rear-view mirrors, but I have yet to update you all on my trip.

It's not an exciting story; it was a quick, quiet visit. I drove down to my parents' home on Jekyll Island on Saturday, about 5 1/2 hours. When I arrived, I unpacked the cooler, first handing Mom the adorable little bouquet Miss Chef cut for her before I left. I made sure to give her full credit; she got major Mom Points for that one!

We had dinner--leftover lamb Mom made for the neighbors the night before--and just hung out for the rest of the night, chatting, reading and drowsing off in front of the tv. I was pretty tired from my week and the drive, and headed to bed early.

Sunday morning we went to church--my first gift to Mom was dressing appropriately and not grumbling. :) Nah, I'm not that bad. Mom left early, because she's in the choir; Dad and I stopped at Winn-Dixie on the way in to pick up a few last-minute ingredients for dinner. At church, Dad introduced me all around, and without exception each friend of theirs turned to me and said something like "Oh, you poor thing!" See?? It's not just my imagination; my parents are a handful!

After church, we went home and each figured out lunch for ourselves--typical Sunday afternoon for us. Then Mom & Dad started napping, while I started on dessert. I made a pound cake, and I was glad I started early, 'cause it needed an hour and 15 minutes to bake! Phew! I did manage to work a short nap in there, myself. No Rosie nudging me in the nose; Charlie is 14 years old and just as happy to nap as to play.

Soon after everyone came to life, I started on dinner. My biggest problem with these kinds of meals--other than forgetting to include a veggie dish--is timing. I try really hard to get everything done at the same time, but then it all gets done at the same time and I don't know which way to turn. However, I did figure the mashed 'taters should be done first, as they could sit in the oven for a few minutes. As it was, I had to call Dad in to finish them up; he was an able assistant, and made a few helpful adjustments on those taters.

So here's the menu Miss Chef helped me come up with: filets mignon cut from a tenderloin Mom already had; mashed potatoes with herbs from our garden; fresh asparagus from the farmers' market (also sprinkled with some of the herbs); and a salad Mom offered to toss together--spinach with cottage cheese and roasted walnuts. She honestly did a very good job staying out of the kitchen, which is an admirable accomplishment for her.

For dessert, I topped slices of homemade pound cake with some of the strawberries in syrup we had canned the week before. When I wished aloud for whipped cream to go with it, Mom mentioned the ice cream in their freezer. Problem solved!

Mom said everything was delicious---which of course she would, but I think she meant it anyway. I didn't think about taking pictures until halfway through dinner, at which point...well, I didn't think you'd be interested.

After dinner, we abandoned the dishes--and the dog--and drove to the oceanside beach for a short sunset stroll. I did manage to remember the camera for that!



Dad pointed out this impressive thundercloud. It was probably over Alix's house. Hey, Alix! (waves)

(Oh, and the picture at the top is the pavilion there on the beach.)

Then we drove home, woke the dog up, and spent the rest of the night chatting, reading and watching tv. I truly enjoyed my access to the Discovery Channel, National Geographic and so on. Dad even let me handle the remote for a while!

So that's it; I got up the next morning, packed and left. Mom sent me home with a couple of uncooked filets and a "volunteer" crepe myrtle that they'd been wondering what to do with. She certainly appreciated her Mother's Day gift. Now Dad's gonna be jealous if I don't come down next month!

In the meantime--back at the ranch--Miss Chef was working her little tuchus off. She worked 10 hours on Saturday, making the mistake of stopping in to eat lunch at the restaurant before her shift started. They were unexpectedly busy, and she ended up seating people, waiting tables, and working in the kitchen in her shorts and t-shirt! She never did get a chance to eat the lunch she'd ordered.

Sunday she worked 13 hours, from prep for brunch through cleaning up after dinner service. So Monday, which she had off, she sat on her butt while I drove home. She did pull herself together enough to go out to dinner at O'Charley's (yeah, we do hit those chain restaurants sometimes) and make a Wal-Mart run. Then we went home and shared a slice of pound cake with drunken strawberries (macerated in sugar and BOOZE.) Night night, sweet dreams!

Oh, but before I leave you, I have to update you on Herb! He has become an It...sometime on Saturday he pupated.

Sorry the picture's not the best, but I'll probably have another week to try again; pupation takes 9 to 11 days, according to this website. I knew it was coming, as Herb emptied his digestive tract on Thursday and stopped eating. It was great timing, since Miss Chef had asked me before I left, "Do I have to feed the caterpillar, too?"

UPDATE: Here's another shot I took Thursday night...one of about 10 that I took; I'm often frustrated with my camera's inability to do close-ups. But you can definitely see Herb has undergone a notable change, and you can see the white stringy "sling" that's holding the pupa to the stick. The jagged yellow "fins" down the bottom remind me of the classic old Godzilla movies. :)

Bonus Baby: This morning, when I was getting ready to leave for work, Miss Chef was awake, lying in bed and grumbling about the stupid bird in the bush outside. I'd been keeping an eye on a pair of mockingbirds building a nest in there, and when I peeked outside, this is what I saw:

Grouchy-looking guy, and noisy as heck. I told Miss Chef she was going to have to put up with the noise for another couple of days at least. For once, I'm glad I'm up with the sun anyway!

UPDATE #2! I saw this same fledgling--I think--in the backyard this afternoon. Mommy and/or Daddy hang around at a distance, chirping encouragement for baby to fly, I guess. Haven't seen him fly yet, but I need to keep an eye on Rosie for the next few days, as she's already shown an interest in this moving, fluffy toy. We had to rescue a baby robin from her maw a couple of years ago, so she's already got a record of flagrant feathered felonies.

Mother's Day

For them, our mere existence is a gift in itself.

Guest or Pest?

I went out to pick some oregano yesterday, and just look at was perched on the parsley!

No, not a canning jar with grass in it, a caterpillar. A bright, stripey-spotty Jamaican-themed caterpillar.

I'm a little hesitant to admit that my first instinct was to moosh it, because I thought it was a tomato hornworm. But then I took a closer look, and thought, "This may be one of those really cool garden-friendly bugs people try to attract!"

I thought I remembered reading something about parsley-eating larvae somewhere in a "how to attract wildlife" gardening article. So I googled something like "caterpillar on parsley" and came up with: swallowtail butterfly. Larva, that is. Which do, indeed, love them some parsley; in fact, one site even referred to them as "parsley worms." Worm, indeed; I don't think so.

In fact, unlike worms, these guys are more on the "pest" side of the equation. But we have two big fluffy parsley plants, so I figured we could spare some. I had originally taken the little guy inside for ease of identification, but then I thought, "What if I put him back outside and some bird gobbles him up?" So I've opted to adopt. For the time being, anyway.

And you know what? I don't think I ever did this as a kid. Oh, sure, there was the woolly bear I "adopted," insisting on carrying it in my hand to the grocery store, of all places. I remember I couldn't understand why mommy didn't want me to take it, until I dropped it down in the grating at the front of the meat cooler. I was devastated and guilt-ridden about my poor woolly bear being forced into permanent hibernation. I wonder if he's still curled up in a little ball down there, waiting for spring, dammit!

Well, anyway, today I'm enjoying watching my little green friend as he munches his way through leaf after leaf. Caterpillars poop a LOT for their size. I'm hoping it'll pupate and I can watch the butterfly emerge. Plus, I've even come up with a name for "him" (do caterpillars have gender?): Herb.

And then, tonight, when I went out to replenish his foliage, what did I spot, but another, identical parsley plucker perambulating upon the plant. Hmmm. That one's just gonna have to feed himself. Or herself.

Hey, I'm leaving town this weekend to go spend Mother's Day with...my mother, of all people. So chances are I won't be around the blogosphere 'til next week. Happy weekend to you all!

Strawberry Yields

Oh my gawd! I have been trying since Monday to post some pics of our all-day canning fest last Sunday. I've just been too busy trying to catch up with all the stuff we didn't get done Sunday, and too tired to get it all done after work. So here's a slap-dash catchup before you all forget we even picked strawberries in the first place. (3 gallons, if you'll remember.)

As it turns out, processing 3 gallons of berries in a home kitchen really is an all-day event. Well, we didn't really start until after noon, but we didn't pull the last jars out of the water bath until about 10:30 that night. So, half-day/half-night; still, that's a lot of hours.

Annoyingly, we spent half the day doing math: how many cups in a gallon, how much pectin to buy, how many jars of what size, how many batches of each recipe? I finally realized why my mom and her canning buddy used to spend all day long in discussion. I used to think "They do this every year; don't they have this figured out yet?" Ha! Too many variables, my friends, too many variables.

By the time we were done, my feet were sore, my legs were sore and my mind was shot. But we were both thrilled at what we had accomplished. Miss Chef estimated we saved ourselves about $50 overall--assuming we would go out and buy so many all-natural strawberry products.

It wasn't really about the money, though; it was proving to ourselves that we could do it. Because Miss Chef has about a dozen tomato plants in the ground, and we are searching for room around the yard for another 8 or 9 homeless seedlings. So, we have future canning plans. I've even invited my mom up already to help us out when the tomatoes start coming in. Should be interesting doing all that math with three of us!

Well, back to the strawberries. First of all, a little about the process. (Bear with me, canning experts, for I know there are several of you reading this--go ahead and skip to below the picture.)

All the recipes we used involve the "hot pack method." This simply means you cook the food before you can it. After placing the food in the jars and putting on the lids, you submerge the jars in boiling water for a specified amount of time. For our recipes, that was either 10 or 15 minutes.

All this heat serves to kill any bacteria that can cause food spoilage. There's all kinds of sterilization of equipment, but it pretty much just involves a lot of hot water.

From left to right, you see the stockpot with the burbling strawberry mix, the pressure cooker / canner (which we didn't use the pressure part of) which is boiling filled jars, and sterilized quart jars awaiting their strawberry bliss. Behind the quart jars you can just barely see my favorite canning utensil: the jar lifter, a fancy, big-ass tongs designed to securely haul those heavy glass jars out of boiling water without slipping. Indispensible.

So, what did we get? This, for starters:

The large ones are pints, the small ones are 8 ounces. On the left are about a dozen jars of strawberry jam. On the right, whole strawberries in syrup (the one on the far right was the last one to be filled, thus the low strawberry to syrup ratio). In the back, you probably can't tell, but there are 4 jars filled with green. There was a recipe for mint jelly on the next page, and we have a very enthusiastic mint patch, so we went for it. Miss Chef just happened to have bought a lamb shoulder roast at the market the day before, so it was a bit serendipitous. (or however you spell that)

Oh, but wait, there's more!

I really wanted to get a shot of these with the sun hitting the jars directly, because they are a gorgeous red! These jars deserve a little introduction.

We used a canning & preserving book put out by the Ball Company*, and of course, Miss Chef can't resist exploring every page of a cookbook! She found a recipe for strawberry lemonade concentrate which we both agreed sounded quite interesting. We decided to make a double batch, which required 8 cups of lemon juice. Miss Chef turned up her nose at pre-packed lemon juice; instead, she went back to the grocery store and returned with a huge sack of lemons. It took 34 of them, hand-squeezed, to get enough--plus a few oranges.

I didn't mind, though; I was busy stirrring the second batch of jam, so I got out of squeezing duty. Anyway, the deal with the concentrate is you combine it with an equal amount of water, tonic or--yummy!--ginger ale!! Miss Chef is a big fan of Vernor's ginger ale (her family's from Michigan originally), so it will be interesting to see how those two combine.

So far, the only thing we've tasted is the jam, and WOWZA! I suppose Mom's jam tasted that good, but my taste memory doesn't go back that far, so I have to say this is the best jam I've tasted. No corn syrup, no clarified pear juice, just strawberries, a whole lot of sugar, a little bit of lemon juice, and pectin. Yum!

That's it for now, folks, but Miss Chef has big plans for the next fruit crop...we'll see if we get around to picking blackberries when they ripen up. I'm quite sure I'll let you know!

*Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving (2006) Kingry, Judi and Lauren Devine

We also used the "Canning & Preserving for Dummies" book, which has a nice little section explaining pectin.

Strawberry Fields

Oh yeah, I've been looking forward to this day since Miss Chef and I talked about it last weekend...strawberry picking!

Charlotte has an exceptional number of farms within a short driving distance, and there are all kinds of pick-your-own fruit places. Strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, peaches...it goes on all summer. Last year we completely missed strawberry season. I'm not sure what Miss Chef's excuse was, but my excuse is I'm a Yankee. Back home, we didn't get into the height of strawberry season until June. Down here, it's been at least a week since the farms have been open.

So last weekend, we scheduled it. We had to; there are always so many things for us to rush around and do in our short time together, "big" events like these are always pushed back 'til next week. We sat down and decided to pick Saturday morning before Miss Chef had to go to work, and spend all day Sunday making jam and whatever else we could come up with.

Before heading off with our map in hand, however, we had a stop to make, of course: the farmers' market. (Well, duh!)

See that stuff on the right side of the board? Miss Chef makes those; the caramel is of course her own creation hatched in her creative/crazy little brain. When we stopped by to say hi to Michele around 8:30, she said she'd already sold two.

(Side story: While the three of us were chatting, I asked Michele, "Have you had all your kids already?" and Miss Chef was shocked--Michele's children are teenagers, so she had no idea why I was asking her that! Michele knew, though. And yes, her kidding season is definitely over.)

Okay, so we left the market and then headed off, map in hand to Springs Farm in Fort Mill, SC. Yup, we're less than 10 miles from the border, so we have no problem skipping into the next state. Local is local.

We bought our baskets--three gallons worth--at the market, then parked by the field and were assigned to our rows. The attendant directed us to start at the far end, which took a little bit of self-restraint, as we had to walk by all kinds of gorgeous, ripe berries just lying there!

Yum, yum! When we had picked up our baskets, and I saw how much empty space we had to fill, I said, "This may take longer than I expected." But the field was very clean, the berry plants poking up through black plastic, laying their luscious wares out for all to see. It was very easy, and the weather was perfect: warm, but overcast, so the sun wasn't beating down on our heads.

Miss Chef and I got to work, and almost before I knew it, my basket was full.

(This picture is now our desktop background; click on it to biggerize it, and you'll understand why!)

Miss Chef had the other two boxes, so I grabbed one to finish it off, carefully piling as many berries as I could, without them rolling off. I had to carry them back across the stony, lumpy field to the car, after all. I certainly didn't want to leave any lying in the row, and I had comic images of trying to pick up fallen strawberries as more dropped from my basket with every move.

Miss Chef was even more determined to get her full gallon's worth. She couldn't seem to stop! (She really loves strawberries...a lot.)

Finally, after a few halts on the way out, to pick the red, ripe few she just couldn't resist, we made it back to the car. Instead of my losing strawberries on the way back, I actually picked a few up that seemed to have fallen from somebody else's box. Good thing I left a little extra room on top, huh?

So, here's what we've got now...

...along with some red-stained fingers that, as Miss Chef said, made it look like we'd butchered a small animal. The camera also has a bright red smear across it as if we'd bludgeoned someone in the head with it. Should probably wipe that off...

So the strawberries are gonna hang out in the cooler overnight, until we get to processing them tomorrow. I'll be sure to take pictures of the results!

Oh, and you know what makes it even better? Chef Adam bought two gallons at the market for the restaurant for $15 each--even though Miss Chef had told him we could pick him some. He found it a little pricey, but I guess he wanted to maintain that relationship with the market. When we went to pick ours, we got three gallons for $7.50 each--half the price!

Miss Chef packed herself a little container of ours to take to work tonight, and told me she was going to eat them in front of Chef Adam saying, "half-price....mmmmm!"

They have a very special relationship.