Cooking and gardening, from scratch

 

Christian's gardening on the front porch
In many households across thenation you’ll see a big ham on the Christmas table. Not in my house. I can’teven get the family to eat a ham slice. I ordered one from Central Market,expecting a small slice I could turn into ham salad for lunch, Instead I got alarge piece—one lb., pre-cooked, for just over five dollars. A bargain! Iremembered my mom cooking ham slice with pineapple and brown sugar, and I knewI didn’t want to do that. But what to do? I looked online and finally came upfor a recipe with a Madeira sauce. Right away I ran into trouble: Jordandeclared unequivocally she does not like him (I’ve known her for forty-eightyears—what did I not know this?); Christian declared he would try it, but hedidn’t want the mushrooms in the sauce; I didn’t even ask Jacob because nowthat he’s a senior, with golf, work, and his buddies, he rarely eats dinnerwith us. So I decided I’d cook it, without mushrooms, on a night Jordan was out,and Christian and I would eat alone.

We tried several times—and eachtime, Christian had a business meeting (read that as happy hour) come up.Fortunately I hadn’t defrosted the ham, but I was getting tired of having ittaking up space in my freezer. And now that it’s December, I’m trying to bejust a bit frugal and use what’s in the freezer rather than buying more. Sotonight, Jean and I had ham with madeira sauce and mushrooms. It wasn’t verygood, after all that. The flavor of the mushrooms was great, but the sauce wasrunny and by the time it sat in the sauce during the cooking time, the pre-cookedham was overcooked. The flavor was great but not much else. I threw the recipein the trash, but after some thought I retrieved it because I think I could doit right.

I’d sauté the mushrooms andthen make the sauce around them—madeira, chicken broth, shallot—and thicken itwith a cornstarch mixture. And I’d cut down on the amount of broth. Only thenwould I add the pre-cooked ham (the recipe probably was meant for an uncookedslice if there is such a thing). Not sure I’ll ever try that, but I might.Meantime I only used half the ham steak, so the other half will go into hamsalad for my lunches.

Tonight I also served butterroasted sweet potatoes—another failure. You peel the potatoes and cut intorounds. If you’ve ever tried to peel a raw sweet potato, you know thedifficulty. And while the rounds were good, it’s a lot easier to just bake asweet potato and serve it with lots of butter. These got a bit dry, but that’sprobably because my odd cooking arrangement means I have to cook, let sit whileI cook something else, and then re-heat. We also had sauteed spinach—so good,but one bunch of spinach gives two people tiny servings each—and a salad withhomemade croutons and buttermilk dressing. It was the best part of the dinner,and Jean, having turned down a second helping, stood at the sink to finish whatwas left in the salad bowl. The meal was, at best, a mixed success.

Now it’s on to Christmas. Nomore experimental cooking as we get ready for the big meal. Except tomorrow, I’mgoing to use those skinless, boneless chicken thighs in the freezer that havealso been challenging me for a chicken/wild rice soup. The rest of the week it’speanut butter.

If I am a dedicated if notalways successful cook, I am definitely not a gardener. Now, with a mobilitychallenge, I couldn’t get down in the dirt if I wanted to, but the truth is Inever wanted to. My dad gardened to relax—weekends, on hands and knees, wearingthe oldest, scruffiest clothes he could find. Mom was always afraid one of hisstudents would come by and catch him in the garden. But it was the place wherehe was most happy. Christian, too, is a gardener--a pot gardener mostly, who fills the front porch with a lavish display in the summer But he also runs a plant nursery and can revive plants, like orchids that die in my care or a kalanchoe. I have always sort of envied those who find joy workingin the garden.

So I saw a blanket-type thingwith holes that you spread over dirt in a large planter and—voila! Plants. Itseems the blanket is weed and insect resistant, and the holes have the seedswhich germinate without your help. You never have to do anything but watch yourplants grow. I may be old-fashioned, but I think for many that would robgardening of much of its benefit. I know my dad would disapprove, and I think sowould my botanist friend Susan Tweit who strongly believes in a visceralconnection to Mother Earth.

Those instant gardens are likeconvenience foods—they take away something elemental about the process, and in sodoing they rob us of the satisfaction that older generations felt. I may notgarden, but I will darn sure keep scratch cooking.