The second child

I am a first-born. My arrival on the scene, though not entirely planned, was a serious game-changer in the lives of all involved (not least, of mine). And for a number of years, give or take some rough patches along the way, I enjoyed the full focus of the sun, so to speak, on my little life.

And then my brother was born on April 11, 1985. Cue the thunder clouds.

Of course, in the end, the world is better place for his existence. And had I been the one making those decisions that no one actually makes, I would choose for him to be born. But there's something back-seat-y about the arrival of a sibling, something like the Spears-cum-Aguilera-cum-Simpson phenomenon: In with the sparkly new pop diva, out with yesterday's.

Parents don't apologize for this natural order of family events, and goodness knows the public is so unforgiving as to support an entire industry that mocks yesterday's pop divas (thank you, US Weekly). But I believe that I have pranced a few steps in this little dance recently, and I am going to hold myself to a different standard:

I'm sorry, my little potatoes.

And I'm sorry, all you pretty seedlings, so patiently lined up on the dining room table. I'm sorry, Arugula, for not trumpeting your first sprout yesterday. And I should be ashamed, Chard, for not shouting from the rooftops that Erik and I ate half of one dinner this week courtesy of your hard work throughout the winter.

I am a jerk: I got chickens and ignored my garden because it doesn't squawk and do uber-entertaining dumb things with ping-pong-balls.

So for the record, today I planted two varieties of heirloom potatoes (all-blue and French fingerling). Some of the spinach didn't take, so I replanted a bunch of that last week. Lettuces are poking out of the dirt like algae on a pond, and not much of anything is happening with my carrots (what is new...).

The container garden on the porch is swinging into gear, though I may have been a bit impulsive (who, me?) and planted several herbs too early, as there's a frost tonight. And some of my young plants may have bit the dust due to my aggressive "hardening off" schedule.

So yeah, we have chickens, and they're fascinating and have sucked all the oxygen out of this once-garden-centered blog, but soon the oxytocin is bound to wear off and I will seek my jollies from the green grow-y things again.

I love all my children the same. Honest.

I just wish my plants would grow as fast as the chicks.

And chirp.

Crawling out of my hole

When a thing is born, what does it first do?

Write a novel? Wash the dishes?

Nah. It cries. And sleeps, and learns to crawl.

Are rules the same for the re-born? And is too grandiose to suggest that in a way, this is happening to me?

It's not about the new year - it's about the final days of a deal that I reluctantly made with myself last spring, when I thought my company was going down and me with it (yay, newspapers). I decided to launch myself into the industrious, ambitious, obsessed business world to see if I could "make it" outside of the only job I've ever known.

In doing so, I made this deal and traded in my entire life. No more pottery, no more twice-daily yoga, or long hikes, or friends, or painting, or GARDENING, or blogging (which you are surely to not notice, as no one reads this anymore, therefore, there's no you there).

However, I did not lose my job. I just gained another full-time job, and for the past 9 months, been doing them both - and nothing else.

Boring.

That, though, is ending. I can't say for sure how, but I desperately want my life back, the connection to the earth and things that grow and have nothing to do with this man-made world of concrete and invisible economies.

This was a pre-meditated rebirth - meaning that I've been planning for it for months. Stage One was full of crying and being totally unimpressive, like most infants.

Stage Two came this weekend. I dusted off my seed catalogues, recruited the ever-supportive Erik and set about to make Plans for this year's Garden. Or, ahem, gardenS. We're expanding the operation.

On tap this growing season:

kale (dwarf blue curled scotch and lacinato)

potatoes (French Fingerling and All Blue)

tomatoes (Sidduth's strain Brandywine and Black from Tula)

Chinese cabbage (Joi Choi)

beets (early blood turnip)

carrots (Paris market and Danvers)

zucchini (green tiger)

summer squash (summer crookneck)

winter squash (table queen acorn-type)

dill

cucumbers (sweet success hybrid)

chard (Fordhook giant)

corn (Reed's yellow dent)

sunflowers

garlic (German extra hardy)

eggplant (listada de Gandia)

purple pole beans

ground cherries (Aunt Molly's)

lima beans (Big Mama)

spinach (America)

bell peppers (purple beauty)

hot peppers (mustard habanero)

asparagus (Jersey giant)

arugula

basil (sweet Genovese)

cilantro

strawberries (3 types)

lettuce (8 types)

And Erik has finally agreed that this is the year of the Chicken! So eggs are hot compost are coming to a blogger near you.

It is January 2 and about 12 degrees outside. Most would agree that it's winter. But for me, it's springtime. And parts of me that have been crusted over by ice and buried in a snowbank are beginning to thaw. Beginning to believe that my life can be drawn back into it's old, more earthy orbit, and that soon my eyes will be filled with visions of green and growth and tiny, fluffy, helpless chicks wobbling about, squawking, just barely born.

And I will totally understand.

Back in Beantown - recipe time.

In honor of Beantown, and my successful standby-on-a-full-flight journey home, I thought I'd post a quick recipe.

Yes, I did go straight to the garden as soon as I got home, but I'm too zonked right now to consider writing anything that requires serious thought or explanation. So on to the beans.

For this recipe, you need:

1. Beans (duh) -- like pole beans, snap peas, any sort of longish, skinnyish beans. I used these (blue coco snap beans from my garden). You'll need a bundle that would fit comfortably in both hands, but you can always use more if you want.

2. Eggs (3-4), hardboiled

3. Red-skinned or some other smallish potato (about 4-5 medium or 8-10 small), cut into chunks.

4. Can of anchovy fillets in olive oil, 5. a can of tuna, and 6. beans of some sort (such as cannellini or garbanzo). I used a can, but you can always boil your own.
7. Shallots or mild onion - or just an onion - sliced thinly. I used the runt onions from my garden that I failed to plant correctly (so they didn't actually grow very much). Lesson learned.8. Olive oil, apple cider vinegar, salt and pepper, fresh lemon juice (1/2 lemon is sufficient, but more is nice)

9. Pitted olives of some sort, chopped up. My favorite are the olive-cured black ones, but Kalamata olives work great, too.

The very best way I've found to prepare hard-boiled eggs is to place them in an empty pot and add cold water until it covers the eggs by about an inch. Once it boils, cover and remove from heat for about 15 minutes. Then place them in cold water until they're cool enough to peel. This way you avoid dropping eggs into boiling water, burning yourself, and accidentally making egg drop soup. If you already know this marvelous kitchen tip, please excuse my ignorance, and send me another tip I should know, but don't.

Boil the potatoes that you've chopped up until they are cooked through, but still firm. Once cooked, drain and place in cold water to stop the cooking. Don't over-cook them or they will become mush. Part of the appeal of this salad is the firmness of the potato flesh contrasted with the creamy saltiness of the sauce.

Quarter the hard-boiled eggs, and add them to the drained and cool potatoes.And for the beans: you boil them, but only a little. Remove the strings/ends if necessary (the older, tougher beans may need this) and prepare a pot of boiling water. If you have purple beans, prepare to be really impressed. Invite a kid to the stove, invoke your best Abracadabra! and blow their little mind.

Watch:Then this:. . . and 30 seconds later, this:I could do this all day. Purple, green. Purple, green. purplegreenpurplegreenpurplegreeeee....
Don't get too mesmerized, or you'll overcook the poor dears. Drain when tender, and plunge into cold water to stop the cooking. When cool, drain and add to the rest of the stuff. Add the beans, olives and onions, too. Don't bother mixing yet, or you'll unnecessarily traumatize the potatoes.

(PATOP - People Against Traumatization Of Potatoes)

Then you make the tuna sauce (don't get scared off by this one):

Put the drained tuna and anchovies into a food processor/blender. Add a little olive oil (couple tablespoons) and some vinegar (1/3 cup or so), lemon juice and some pepper. You can toss in some garden herbs if you have them available (basil, parsley and a touch of cilantro work well). And blend the heck out of it until it's smooth and creamy.
Taste it. You may need to add more vinegar, lemon juice or perhaps salt, but this will be fairly salty.

Pour it all over everything else:

Stir up, and enjoy the heck out of it! (And tell me what you think.)