The Mother Garden - Fall 2016

It had been a while since my last pilgrimage to the Mother Garden (and to see my own mama and papa), so last night was the night for a semi-regular visit.  I got to take in the renovated kitchen, to enjoy some mommy food, and sleep in my high school bedroom.  And then there are the rewards of the Mother Garden.  It is of course past its prime, although in prime autumnal state.





Queens front porch. The little yellow and purple calabrochoa are on the left. I tried to find seeds, but it is very hard to tell with that plant which are the seeded ones. May just have to wait till spring and see what takes and perhaps pilfer a plant from the Mother Garden.

Front yard - before the side garden fence. One of the thriving hydrangea.

Tomatoes, winding down.

Tomatoes - still some ripening ones, despite the general wind-down.

Among the many peppers.

Yes, that is a doctored water gun. My papa uses it to try to dissuade the squirrels.  I think the squirrels may just laugh at his attempts.

View under the squash arbor.

Dancing lady orchid in full bloom, despite the recent cold.

Mums. I think my mama said this was a revived potted mum from Tet - one of the ones my aunt purchased for Tet decorations.

More mums - this one on the verge, but not quite there.

Bacopa - thriving.  I tried to find seeds for this one too; I could not. My mama is not sure whether it sets seed at all.

Peppers - pretty and multi-colored.

Seeds and dried stalks, with roses in the background.

More peppers. Mama loves peppers.

Snapdragons, still going strong.

Red mums.

A different cluster of red mums.

 

There were seeds, but not quite as many as I would have thought.  But some worth gathering for planting back into next year's urban terrace jungle.





Seed heads, against the garage walls.  I could not remember which these are - the pink cone flowers? The yellow coreopsis? I decided to forgo seed gathering.

Hibiscus seed pod.  I considered taking these.  But mine are still surviving.  And there were more seed heads not yet ripened.  They can be gathered during Thanksgiving if need be.

Seeds of the green shiso.

Not sure what this plant is. I thought it was flowering tobacco, but not sure that is right.  Mama compared it to a dragon head - so maybe that will be its colloquial name here for now.

Seeds of the dragon head flower.

And more dragon head flower seeds - pretty photo, no?

I decided to gather some.  They did not take last year.  But maybe this year....

Strawberries, dried and withered.

The last of the strawberries.  I decided to take some of the dried ones for propagation.

First Pizza

Among Sissy and me, when one of us suggests a plan that clearly is too aspirational, the other of us often takes her hands and begins to flap them, pantomiming little wings - a reminder of Icarus flying too close to the sun.  So were the origins of my first successful pizza from scratch - yesterday, not today.

 

Finished product - overhead view.



Yesterday's rainy Saturday began slowly, as Saturdays seem to run these days, with the change of seasons.  But the rains apparently caused a certain Match.com prospect's Long Island golf date to be cancelled, leading to his remaining in the city, leading to a drinks invitation in the late evening.  The invitation text came after he came out of the gym (I had told him I would be around this weekend).  I accepted, and declined my mother's offer to pick me up on her way through from a lunch club get-together in New Jersey to see her new kitchen; I wisely decided there was no way getting picked up post-3pm to travel to Queens could possibly leave me with enough time to return to the city for a 9:30pm date.  So sometimes I do recognize my Icarean tendencies and know to squelch them.

Mr. Match's reference to his having gone to the gym left me feeling somewhat guilty about not keeping up my own running; I also thought it might not hurt to try to appear a little more trim for the date - whatever little result may come from a last minute workout.  The rains, and wind, and definitely chillier temperatures, convinced me to move my exercise routine indoors - I decided to do the stairs, whilst taking various rounds of recycling down, picking up my mail and my next door neighbor's... stairs completely wind me; four sets of stairs felt like something at least approximating a respectable portion of the cardio from my usual weekend running routine.  All about trying to fit it in, wherever and however possible. 

The plan had been to get in the workout, be showered and out, and have close to 3 hours to make myself a pantry-clearing pizza to for dinner, and then a short walk to meet Mr. Match at a "speakeasy" in the neighborhood that I'd never even heard of.  The pizza-making part of the plan was where I got into trouble.  But the pizza was only to take 10 minutes to knead, and only 15 minutes to bake... I should just know to expect recipes to take longer, especially on a first go-round.  So by 8:30, with dough assembled and kneaded but pizza nowhere close to assembly, Sissy shared her leftover pizza, and that was my pre-drinks dinner.  Thank goodness - because that was the only thing in my stomach that absorbed the 2 drinks I had.  A lovely date, a nice guy, actually, a really nice-seeming, solid, smart, stable guy - we'll see whether anything comes of it; I am hopeful.  But I seem to have no luck with securing second dates... but maybe this time will be different.

So Saturday's ball of dough stayed in a plastic container, and was re-kneaded today, and finally assembled into a late lunch.  Voilà!

In the oven, at the beginning of the bake.

It was inspired by some leftover milk and the desire to use it up somehow, to upcycle it.  Now that Sissy no longer drinks milk (she is lactose-intolerant), and since I have weaned myself off my decades-long cereal habit, the milk sits longer than it should sometimes.  So was the case in the last round, and some of the leftover milk was frozen, but then sat thawed too long, before I went to use it.  It curdled and turned into cheese - did not seem like it would be quite right in my new oatmeal routine.  On "The Kitchen" I had seen a recipe for pizza dough with Greek yogurt - I figured my curdled milk could stand in.  AND it would be a way to use the little tomatoes I had been gathering.  AND it would be a way to use some of the Brazilian cheese living in the freezer since not being consumed at the Olympics opening ceremony party I was invited to back in August.  I thought a pizza bianca might be the inspiration - all the better for lack of sauce; the tomatoes could be the stand-in.  I actually ended up using a slightly different recipe - this one, seemed easy, simple - I skipped the mixer and just put it all into a bowl, after finding a separate recipe for self-rising flour.  Thank goodness for Google - what ever did we do in the days before it?  And the recipe worked!  Well, it required more yogurt to be added; the curdled milk wasn't quite enough for all the flour - that is part of the reason it look so long, adjusting the proportions.  The kneading took about as long as the recipe called for - quite satisfying, actually.  I don't usually knead - I may do more of it.  But it kept well in the container overnight.  And the rest was as per the recipe.



Post-bake, pre-adornment.

Post-adornment with the late-season basil Genovese.

But it truly came alive with the addition of the basil - and it was nice to have a use for the basil at the end of the season.  Only worrisome part is that the basil does not seem to be flowering or seeding.  Maybe the Mother Garden has some seeding basil; I will have to look when I am next there.

Posed, in front of the enameled cast iron pot for some pretty background color.

It was not bad at all.  The little tomatoes burst just as they were supposed to.  The Brazilian cheese isn't really a melty cheese, so maybe the pizza was a bit drier than otherwise would be the case.  Some of the curdled milk cheese taste came through in the dough - next time, we'll stick to just yogurt; will keep the excess milk frozen instead until it can be used.  Lessons learned.

 

All in all, a good food experiment.  It was today's heavy, late lunch.  It will be tomorrow's dinner of leftovers.  It looks pretty.  And it was relatively quick - worth a repeat.

Colors on the Drive

Life in the urban jungle requires compromises.  It's an axiom.  The very paradox of an "urban" "jungle" would suggest no less - life being threaded between a space at once thoroughly unnatural and teeming with the natural life force.

And so, to deal with a career that sucks an obscene amount of time and balance it with the desire to have just a normal, relaxed, sane existence calls for different inputs in the time/money grid.  Living out in Yorkville means a better space (with a terrace!), close to the river and a pretty little park, for a reasonable price (as prices go in New York City), but far from the subway (until the long-promised Second Avenue subway line opens), which would otherwise be the quickest way to get downtown.  But nature abhors a vacuum.  Before the great global recession, there was an express bus service; that went away.  There is a van service.  And, thankfully, the cabshare stand.  It is my daily weekday indulgence - $7 is a small price to pay for sanity and not having to deal with the hordes taking the Lexington Avenue subway downtown, and to halve my morning commute time.  (At the rates I get billed at, that 20 minute savings is worth a whopping $300 - to someone; so $7 seems fine for me to spend.)  Of course, sometimes, more often than ideal, I am forced to take my own "golden chariot," as Sissy has styled it - I am just a sadly habitual late-ling; many mornings I just need more me time to get out and start the day.

Such was the case this recent Friday.  But having the cab to my lonesome allowed me to take some shots of my morning commute.

The glistening East River, that leads to the Harbor, that leads to the ocean, that leads everywhere.

View of a garden of edibles - often featured on FoodNetwork shows; the crops are grown in milk crates lined with landscaping fabric to hold in the soil, set atop the concrete terrace.

The towers of Williamsburg - shiny, new, surely expensive - not very suited for hipsters, unless one assumes all those hipsters are being bankrolled by their mommies and daddies.

East River Park.

The "necklace" of the Brooklyn Bridge - its view so beloved that it was the subject of negotiations with users of the Brooklyn Promenade slating the view to be protected from the hotel development at Brooklyn Bridge Park.  But to no avail - the too-tall mechanicals don't seem to be coming off that building.

Getting closer to the Bridge.

Gotta love the new cab sunrooves!

  

I had already been meaning to, had made a point to try to remember to capture the sure signs of the onset of Autumn - there are trees by the side, visible on the FDR, that turn a beautiful, bright, almost glaring yellow - well before all the other trees have caught wind of the change of season.

The bright yellow foliage, approaching the Brooklyn Bridge/Civic Center exit.

View from the drive.

The tinted cab windows and Blackberry camera do no justice to the truly blazing yellow of the leaves.

If/when the office moves to the westside (and if I even last that long), I will miss the daily shoot down the FDR.  As lovely a way to commute as any, I'd say.

Closing In on the Last of the Harvests

Fall is definitely upon us.  The last couple of days have been cold - actually cold - in addition to windy.  So it seems not long now before any remaining little fruits and leaves wither away or get blown off.

Tonight, with scant other post-workday food options to be found in the kitchen, the never-eaten-upon-arrival Mulligatawny soup that comes as a standard-issue bonus with each of our Indian food orders from Mumtaz became the prime candidate.  Not clear why the Mulligatawny soup is always relegated to wallflower status on Indian dinner nights; the main orders are just the natural belles of the ball.  But, especially now with the loose vegetarian days, the Mulligatawny can take a star turn - it makes for a fantastic main course over the brown rice/quinoa blend.  Plant protein over plant protein - perfect!  And to think, the Mulligatawny never even used to receive the invitation - we just did not know what the mysterious sauce was supposed to be used with/for.  And then, one pick-up order, years back, the owner, perhaps mildly offended at our refusal, asked why we did not like the Mulligatawny soup?  Well, with that introduction, we accepted, and the Mulligatawny has been a guest at the ball ever since.

On its own, Mumtaz's Mulligatawny soup is rather mild, a bit boring.  Maybe it's meant to be a palate cleanser for our generally more-robustly-spiced main orders - if that's the case, then it's perfect.  But alone, perhaps a bit bland.  But some time ago, I discovered that whatever is the main spice in the soup (cumin?), pairs fantastically well with - ready for it? - shiso!  Bizarro, I know, but it works.  So, emptying the refrigerator and eating up the stores also serves as an opportunity to salvage the shiso for consumption before Fall inflicts any more of a toll.

Shiso leaves, stacked and ready to be scissor-chifinaded.

Chifinade of shiso leaves, over Mulligatawny soup, over brown rice/quinoa blend - enhanced with lemon pepper and garlic powder.  Quite tasty.

And, while it would have been easy to be too lazy to go out into the dark after work to harvest what little was left, it really was worth the effort.  The leaves are not so big anymore, so quite a few had to go into the pile.  The shiso has pretty much gone into full seeding mode, and I DO want it to come back next year, so I do not want to discourage seeding altogether.  Therefore, leaves were cut from several plants, somewhat sparingly, so as not to stress any one plant too much... do plants need to have leaves for their seeds to continue to mature?  Not sure, but better not to take the chance.

The shiso just enhances the flavor of the Mulligatawny; they are very complementary.  The upcycled Mulligatawny soup over the grains - perfect for an evening single-portion meal during a busy midweek evening.  Yay me, and thanks, Mumtaz!

Matthew on the Terrace

With the advance media coverage relentless on Hurricane Matthew, it seemed like we could get a whopper.  But, sadly for the Caribbean and the southeast, most of its fury was expended there, and largely spared us - fortunately for us. 

Matthew did come earlier than expected here, somewhat throwing off my weekend running routine - early rains on Saturday, and then winds and a temperature drop after the rains stopped today.  An experiment with indoor exercise - doing stairs in the building - was considered, but then delayed, finally put off permanently by Presidential debate viewing.  Balance requires far more discipline with weekend and off hours than I am naturally inclined to muster - I must either work on greater discipline or learn to let go of the guilt and stress of not getting done what I aspire to do... working on it.

With the rains precluding the usual gardening on the terrace, "accomplishments" came down to darting between drops to pick up wind-blown tomatoes and cursory inspections of the plants.

Menacing Saturday skies as Matthew moved in.

 

The strengthening winds led to a green tomato casualty.  Tomato was rescued.  Not quite sure what to do with it - last year, the green tomatoes gathered when the frost finally set in got turned into a savory "jam" - cooked and reduced down as a condiment.  Maybe I'll repeat that again - although not sure how long this little guy will hold out, whether it will still want to jam by the time there are enough of its brethren to form a critical mass.

On the bright side, these rains, and the rains we got in the preceding days/weeks, seem to have had a very positive effect on the geraniums.  They seem to have grown and strengthened by leaps and bounds - no way I could implement the preliminary plan of using jars (collected to hold votives for evening celebrations) as cloches to get them through the winter.  But maybe more than just the largest will be hefty enough to be dry-stored through the winter - if I can remember to mist them occasionally through the season.

And then the rains began.

The rain allowed for new projects - salvaging a honeydew Sissy bought over a month ago that was starting to go, to see whether it might still be edible.  It was actually quite delicious.  And, in the spirit of using the whole melon, the internet yielded recipes for pan-roasted honeydew seeds - high in protein, apparently.

 

VERY ripe honeydew, and very sweet - cut up and stored for consumption.

 

Honeydew rinds, showing the beginning of mold spots, on their way to the compost pile.

 

Pan-roasting the honeydew seeds in a bit of olive oil, garlic salt, chili powder, paprika, sea salt.

 

Quite tasty, although not very fleshy.  They were mostly seed shells, I think.  But they were snacked upon and added crunch to a saucy sauteed leftover veggie dish eaten for dinner.  And they were gone by night.

And then today, it was, as the meteorologists predicted, quite breezy.  The water catchers caught water.  All in all, not too bad as far as damage goes.  Although it seems we are dropping into the 40s.  I am not quite sure I am ready to welcome the plants indoors yet.  A rebound into the 50s is also predicted after the brief chill, so perhaps there is time yet.

 

"Angel hair" (aka cardinal vine) trellis - off-kilter.



 

Bike parka - badly rustled by the wind, with a gaping gash down the middle.

Compost bins - liquid overflowing the bottom catch buckets, out the overflow hole, ringing the concrete pavers.

 

"Ten o'clocks" (aka portulaca?) - waterlogged.

So many tasks still to be done - so it had better not go cold on us yet.  Bulbs to be planted, tropical plants located indoors, dead shrubbery to be uprooted and chipped or composted somehow, new planters to be prepped with drainage holes and set in place and filled, seeds to be gathered, labels to be set in place as a reminder about what goes where to guide next spring's planting....