Archive | March, 2010

My failures

6 Mar

The stunt is only 14 days. Two weeks. And as I’m nearing the finish line, I’m realizing there have been failures.

1. still have muffin top. even my fattest jeans are tight. i didn’t think the pounds would fly off–but i may have even added more. lesson: cheese diets don’t work and exercise might be a better idea.

2. acorn flour. my dear wonderful friend D brought me some acorn flour. I immediately began eating it. I made a weird gruel first with some milk. I ate it but reluctantly. then i remembered my failure with the gnocchi and tried again. I mixed egg, baked squash, and the acorn flour. it turned a strange brown color. i paid no attention and boiled a few in salted water. they sank like tiny turds and stayed that way until i prodded them. then they warbled up to the top, floating and glistening. as i brought one out of the drink, i thought: what if i’ve discovered some new genius recipe that chefs will soon be imitating? what if they’ll name the gnocchi after me? (starvation diets make delusions of grandeur). then the brown ball passed my lips and was chewed. it was, dear readers, a monstrosity of sog combined with grit. tasted like dirt. then i thought: i should fry these brown balls. like falafal. which i did. they actually tasted good, like a falafal type food. nutty and crunchy. then i went to bed and developed the most splitting headache i’ve ever had. failure.

3. i visited the good students at USF the other day. they have planted a beautiful garden, and some freshmen farm and live in the dorms as an interest group. they are adorable, and grow food for a farm stand and make value added products, and learn how to graft. it made my heart sing to see these good citizens fired up about growing food. And then, they offered me lunch. it included, homemade foccacia and soup with (sweet baby J) barley. i lost all resolve and sucked down all those forbidden carbs, comforting myself that at least the vegetables had been grown on their little farm. failure, but i would do it again.

however, i’d like to report one success in the last few days: i accompanied tamara wilder (the instructor for the rabbit hide tanning workshop here at the gt farm this weekend) to a dim sum restaurant post-class, and watched her eat approximately 27 dumplings. and never once, never, did it cross my mind to grab one of the pillowy pork and cabbage dumplings, dredge it into the sweet soy/ginger nectar, and have it explode in my mouth. not once. i swear.

Half Way There, oh oh

4 Mar

Did you see it? I was in the paper of record and then I got to do a guest blog, too.

It has generated some hate. Scroll down to comments. I know I could just erase their crazy talk, but somehow, I kind of love them. They’re like, “Hmmm, maybe she doesn’t know rabbits are kept as pets. I’m going to set her straight.” People: I know you keep rabbits as pets. That’s great! It’s not like I want to eat your rabbit. Christ.

Now: onto food. I’ve gotten used to feeling vaguely hungry. Which is a good thing for any chowhound. It means I can wait for something really good to come along. Which it did. Check out this beauty!


A friend came by and bestowed a couple chantrelles on me. I promptly fried them up with some chunks of poached rabbit (ahem), sprinkled some parsley over the top, and there you go, heaven on a fork.


Served with potatoes (running low) and kraut. For dessert: Bebe’s ricotta (she’s a wizard in the kitchen, her cloven feet really don’t impede her at all) topped with peach preserves. Heaven.

Speaking of kraut and whey. I attempted to make chickweed kraut. There’s a scrambling mess of chickweed near my office, and I heard you can make a fermented product out of it. I chopped the chickweed, added salt, poured in some whey, then poured in some liquid from a batch of “real” kraut. After a few days I sampled it. It’s actually kind of good. Chickweed has a nice grassy, springtime flavor to it. And don’t worry–it’s not just cat pee–I washed it, OK?

No Idea What Day It Is

2 Mar

A lot of fancy chef people don’t like squash. I love it, mostly because I love to grow them. My favorite squash–the triamble or shamrock squash–yielded a pretty good crop of five or six big ones this fall. I noticed that I hadn’t been eating them, partially because they are so beautiful, partially because what the hell would I do with an entire squash? During this little stunt, I found that I can eat a whole squash quite easily.

1. Squash soup obviously. I made mine with rabbit stock, squash, a jar of tomatoes, and a bit of milk.

2. Baked squash. God, look how gorgeous this looks! A ramekin of ricotta is lurking in the background….

3. Gnocchi. Squash gnocchi? Yup. With just a couple cheat tablespoons of flour, these squash dumplings per Ms. MFK Fisher were weirdly outstanding. The recipe called for 2 cups baked squash, 2 eggs, 2 tbs flour, and a pinch of baking soda. I let this concoction drain overnight, then dunked full spoons of the goo into boiled salted water. Amazingly, they held together and bobbed up to the top. I let them cook for a bit longer before scooping them out with a slotted spoon. Served with pepper and parsley. Baby! Like little carb and protein pillows. Note that I doubt I would make this dish again. The texture was kind of bizarre. But when you’re starving….

P.S. How did everyone else’s turn out, if you got Triamble seeds from me? I’ve saved the seeds, let me know if you’d like a few for your garden and I’ll send some over. Just email me at novellacarpenter@gmail.com with your address….