Is there a worse time than May for a gardener to go on an almost three-week trip? Probably not. Therefore doubts kept creeping up on me as I was getting myself and the garden ready, covering the unplanted garden beds with black plastic so they would not turn into a weed patch, laying out soaker hoses, prepping seedlings, and writing to-do lists for the gardensitter – my husband.

He has been a gardener much longer than I am, and the garden is in good hands with him. Yet it is not easy to relinquish the care of one’s tender plants to someone else. I am sure my husband would have much more serious concerns if he were the one being away that long during this time of the year. He would find hay instead of a lawn upon his return because I have never touched a lawnmower in my life.

The division of yard work between us somehow fell into place without us ever talking about it, and it works perfectly.  When we take visitors on a garden tour my husband always tells them that I handle everything under three feet tall: the flower and perennial beds, the vegetable garden, and the berry patch. He takes care of the lawn, trees, shrubs, and the many other tasks of a groundskeeper. Right now he needs to work double shift, rain or shine.

It is not only the logistics of the garden that made me second-guess the timing of my trip. It is also all the “events” that I will be missing. The crabapple blossom had just started when I left. I will be away when the alliums and the lilac bloom, and when the two new quince trees we planted will develop their first leaves. The day of my departure I saw the first fava beans, a premiere in my garden this year, breaking through the soil. I also saw a third seedling of the blue false indigo emerging, which thrilled me because coaxing the seeds into germination was a patience test. And, I noticed tiny yellow buds on the kale plants that I left in the garden from last year to collect the seeds, and I would love to see them fully open.

My precious gardensitter sends me email alerts about late frosts, usually a screenshot of the local weather report with the subject line, “What needs covers?”. And he does something else that is not in his job description: he takes a camera along on his daily maintenance rounds.

To celebrate that spring is finally here, I fetched one of the last jars of Concord grape juice today. As I mixed it with seltzer water it occurred to me that there would not be any of this homemade soda if it weren’t for the steam juicer. Therefore I simply must rave about this wondrous invention.

A steam juicer is a large pot where the base is filled with water and the top colander holds the fruits or vegetables. As the water boils and softens the fruit, the juice drips down from the colander into the juice kettle, from where it is released through a drain tube. The drain tube has a clamp so for the first hour or so, depending how hard and juicy the fruit is, you let the juice accumulate in the kettle, then open the clamp and let the juice run into a bowl placed underneath.  I’ve had the steam juicer for several years yet I still relish the moment when I open the clamp – it feels a bit like digging for water or oil when a jet of the precious good eventually comes bursting out of the ground.

The yield is much bigger than with a jelly bag, it takes a fraction of the time, and it is no hassle at all to clean, just make sure you wash the steam juicer right after using; only the colander needs a bit of soaking sometimes. Except for grape juice, which I can as is with about ¼ cup sugar per quart of juice, I use most of the juice for making jelly.

The drawback: steam juicers are expensive, especially the stainless steel models cost $100 and up. I do not recommend aluminum because it reacts with acid. A steam juicer is a small investment but for me it is an essential canning tool, just like a few good tools are essential in the garden. A rototiller for the garden? Never! A steam juicer for the kitchen? Absolutely. I cannot do without it.

As a first grader on my way to school, I walked by a mansion whose front lawn was filled with thousands of crocuses in early spring. You had to peak through openings in the wall to see them, which made it even more tantalizing.

When I started to garden, I knew what I wanted – a view just like that! I envisioned looking out on a sea of purple from the kitchen window, and splashes of color along the driveway that would greet us every time we came home. So in two consecutive falls, with the help of my mother who herself is not a gardener but always ready to help, I planted more than 700 crocuses in different colors.

Almost a decade later, the crocuses are still there, doing well, slowly naturalizing. There is just one thing I did not consider. At the time when the crocuses bloom, the grass is still brown so you have to walk up close to see them. There is no sea of purple looking out the kitchen window, and I am afraid there never will be. To really enjoy the crocuses, you have to go outside and visit them, which I just did. A few had broken in the wind so I brought them in.

Half of me feels quite stupid about this, and the other half laughs. It seems to me those crocuses floating in water are smiling at me, too, saying, “Never mind, we still like it here.”

Once in a while even resolved home cooks like me agree to take-out pizza. With it we usually order a serving of garlic knots sitting in a puddle of very garlicky garlic oil. Seeing the ample, almost untouched amount of pesto in the freezer a few weeks ago made me feel almost guilty about eating garlic knots from somewhere else so I thought of ways to combine the two: pesto knots.

When it comes to pesto, I am a minimalist. I only use homegrown basil and garlic, salt, a good extra-virgin olive oil, and roasted walnuts. No pine nuts because the real, good kind from Lebanon is very expensive, and I find the Chinese pine nuts inedible. And no Pecorino or other cheese because I prefer to add it to the dish right at the table.

Immediately after processing the pesto, I fill it in small disposable paper cups and place them in the freezer until they are solidly frozen. I then remove the cups and tightly pack those pesto lollipops (lollipops without sticks, that is) in a large zippered freezer bag.

The yeasted knots are fun to make, and both times I made them we did not have trouble finishing them within a day or two (they can also be reheated in the oven).

Now that I have averted the danger of having to spread pesto on our breakfast toast in June to use up last year’s supply, I am starting to wonder whether this year my basil plants might get hit by basil downy mildew, a new highly destructive and quickly spreading disease. In gardening, everything is possible. Meanwhile, I will eat another pesto knot and enjoy it.

Pesto Knots

1¼ cups warm water

2¼ teaspoons active dry yeast

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon salt

3½ cups flour (whole wheat or half whole wheat and half bread flour)

½ cup pesto

Extra-virgin olive oil for drizzling

1. Mix the water with the yeast and let stand for a few minutes until it starts to foam.

2. In a large bowl mix the olive oil, salt, flour, and the yeast mixture. Knead to a smooth dough using your hands or the dough hook of an electric mixer. The dough should be slightly tacky; add more water a teaspoon at a time as needed.

3. Cover and let rise for 2 hours.

4. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F. If you have a baking stone, place it on the medium rack of the oven.

5. Briefly knead dough for remove any air bubbles. Divide it into 24 equally sized pieces using a sharp knife or a dough cutter. Roll each piece into a 6-inch rope of even thickness and twist it into a knot. If the dough starts to feel a bit dry, moisten your hands before shaping each knot.

6. Place the knots directly on the hot baking stone, or on a baking sheet, about 2 inches apart. After placing them in the oven spray them immediately with cold water. Bake in the preheated oven for 20 to 25 minutes, or until the knots are golden brown.

7. In the meantime mix the pesto with a few tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil. Immediately when they come out of the oven, toss the knots with the pesto to coat them evenly.

8. Place the coated knots on a large plate or baking sheet in one single layer. If you pile them up hot as they are they will sweat and get soggy. Eat warm, or reheat in a preheated oven for 350 degrees for a few minutes.

Makes 24 pieces

For the past three days I have been knocked out with a cold. Between feeling sorry for myself over cancelled weekend plans, and watching the entire first season of the US remake of the Danish crime drama The Killing (great program, by the way), I remembered that I had dried some elderberry blossoms for tea last May.

Elderflower tea is an old home remedy against common cold and fever. The formulas vary. I used 1 heaping teaspoon of dried elderberry flowers per cup boiling water, steeped it for 10 minutes, and sweetened with local honey from our neighbor. In grey chilly January weather, sipping the hot tea from blossoms collected on a beautiful sunny day already feels good.

Hot elderberry juice with lemon juice and honey is also an excellent cold remedy but I don’t have any elderberry juice this year, and can only hope that the elderberry bushes transplanted last fall will love their new, less wind-beaten location in moister soil and produce lots of berries in the future.

Frozen yogurt is always a great dessert – it feels like a special treat yet with only four ingredients, it is easy to make. I keep the freezer bowl of the ice-cream maker in the freezer all the time so it is always ready to go.

Yesterday I wanted to make blueberry frozen yogurt from the blueberries I picked at a blueberry patch last summer. Only when I was about to strain the cooked fruit through a sieve did I realize those were not blueberries! Those were the precious Concord Grapes I had set aside for my Stuffed Flatbread.

I was too far along to change course, also short of time and lacking a better solution what to make with 1½ cups grape concentrate. So I went ahead with my standard frozen yogurt recipe. To give it a hint of Christmas flavor, I added ¼ teaspoon freshly ground cardamom. It turned out fine; in fact, it got a full approval rating at the dinner table from my family and a guest. Funny, I would have never thought of making Concord Grape Frozen Yogurt, and now I have a recipe that is worth keeping.

Against my usual habit, I had not labeled the bags with blueberries, thinking their content was far too obvious. Then I simply forgot that I had snuck in a bag of grapes in late summer. Lesson from this: always read the label – after you make sure there is one.

One of the things I strongly dislike in cooking is removing the skins from roasted peppers. I always end up with chunks of peppers to which the skin sticks stubbornly. I tried roasting them over an open flame on the gas stovetop once; it was messy and rather unsuccessful so I went back to broiling them in the oven. Also, I do not like the idea of letting the peppers sweat in a zip plastic bag, like some recipes tell you. I try to avoid generating non-biodegradable waste whenever I can.

As I was browsing through the freezer last night thinking what I could bring to Phoebe’s Pure Food vegan/raw food potluck tonight, I knew I had to make something with bell peppers: the freezer is filled with them. So I made a veganized version of a lentil salad recipe a relative gave me many years ago.

After letting the peppers thaw slightly and pressing them flat, I broiled them until their skins were really charred.  I stood in front of the oven and fought against my instinct of rescuing the peppers, to which I had tended to all summer in the garden, from cremation. Then I stacked them in a plastic food storage container, which works great as a sweat box.

As for removing the skins, it was a cinch, they all came off beautifully. Now I can only hope the salad tastes as good as I feel about my newly overcome kitchen pet peeve.

Lentil Salad with Red Bell Peppers

1 cup brown or green lentils

1 teaspoon vegetable soup base

3 red bell peppers, halved, stems and seeds removed

3 tablespoons lemon-infused extra-virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons lemon juice

1 garlic clove, passed through the garlic press

1 teaspoon ground cumin

¼ teaspoon chili powder

¼ teaspoon ground mustard

1 teaspoon salt, more to taste

Freshly milled black pepper

1. Rinse lentils and put them in a small saucepan. Dilute vegetable soup base in 3 cups water, add it to the lentils. Bring to a boil, then, reduce the heat and cook, covered, for 15 to 20 minutes. Towards the end, check for water and add a bit more if necessary. Do not overcook the lentils; they should still have some bite. Drain the lentils and rinse under cold water, drain again.

2. Place the peppers on a cutting board and press them down with your hands to flatten, trying not to break their skins. Place them on a jellyroll pan under the broiler and broil until the skin is charred and forms blisters. Turn the pan around if necessary to ensure even broiling. Place the peppers in a food storage container with a lid and let them sweat for 10 to 15 minutes. When they are cool enough to handle, remove the skins. Chop the peppers coarsely.

3. In a small bowl, whisk the olive oil with the lemon juice, garlic, spices, 1 teaspoon salt, and pepper.  Toss the lentils with the peppers, then, add the dressing and toss again. Season with salt and pepper and refrigerate until serving.

Makes 6 servings 

I eventually cut down all the basil before the onset of cold weather. After stripping the leaves off the stems, I washed and spun them dry in the salad spinner, and spread them out on trays lined with kitchen towels. After the leaves were completely dried and brittle I crumbled them finely. The mix of green and purple looks especially nice. However the crumbling process created quite a bit of “basil dust” that made me gasp for air so I am seriously thinking of wearing one of those disposable air filter masks next time.

A basil jungle is not such as bad thing after all. Now I have a jar of dried basil that I am portioning into pouches to send as little favors to friends and family who did not get to taste fresh basil from my garden this summer.

Baking bread is always a comforting thing do to, especially in the wake of an upcoming monster storm like the one that will hit the East Coast of the United States tonight.

I just pulled a large loaf of bread from the oven. This is a new variation with pumpkin seeds and pumpkin seed oil, my latest culinary discovery and a specialty from Austria. I was lucky enough to find the real thing at our local supermarket for a decent price.

A small bottle of the intensely flavored dark, nutty oil goes a long way. Pumpkin seed oil is only drizzled onto salads, soups and desserts. I have also added it to a homemade pumpkin frozen yogurt and will post that recipe soon though that will have to wait. Now I better bring in the potted plants and help with the other storm preparations…

Whole-Wheat Pumpkin Seed Bread with Pumpkin Seed Oil

I let the dough rise in a bread rising basket sprinkled with cornmeal. You can also shape it into a large round loaf, or divide the dough in two and bake it in two greased loaf pans.

Sponge:

2¼ teaspoons active dry yeast

1 cup lukewarm beer (leftover beer is fine) or water

1 cup cracked wheat

2 tablespoons honey

1 cup whole-wheat flour

Dough:

2 cups whole-wheat flour

2 cups bread flour

2 teaspoons salt

2 teaspoons gluten

1¼ cups water

2 tablespoons pumpkin seed oil

¾ cup hulled pumpkin seeds

Cornmeal (optional)

1. Mix the yeast and the beer in a large bowl. Add all the other ingredients and mix well with a spoon. Cover and let rise for 1 hour.

2. Mix the flours, salt and gluten and add to the sponge. Gradually add the water and the pumpkin seed oil. With the kneading attachment of the electric hand mixer, or with the stand mixer with kneading hook set on low, knead until an elastic dough forms. At the end, incorporate the pumpkin seeds until well distributed. If the dough is too dry, add a little warm water; if it’s a little tacky, don’t worry and please don’t add more flour, otherwise the bread will be too dry.

3. Lightly oil a large bowl and place the dough in it. Turn the dough over once so it is evenly coated and cover with a kitchen towel. Let rise in a warm place for 1.5 hours.

4. Sprinkle a rising basket or a baking sheet with cornmeal. Knead the dough briefly but vigorously to remove any air pockets. Shape into a long log and place it in the rising basket.

5. Let rise for 45 minutes. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.

6. Flip the bread from the rising basket onto a baking sheet lined with parchment or a baking mat. Place it in the preheated oven and spray the bread with water. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes. If the bread makes a hollow sound when you knock on the bottom, it’s ready. Remove from the pan and let cool on a cake rack.

One of my favorite things in October are the crabapple trees on a sunny day like yesterday. With their branches bare of leaves, the tiny vibrant apples stand out even more against the blue sky. I wanted to spend more time taking in that stunning view. And since I had set my mind on trying out crabapple butter this year, what better way to spend time near the crabapples than picking!

Usually by mid-October we have already harvested a bucket of crabapples for jelly (what is left on the trees is eaten by the wild turkeys), only this this year we haven’t gotten around to it yet. Picking crabapples is a two-person operation – to reach the branches we have to drive the truck underneath each tree.

Yesterday I was home alone, and without the truck. I fetched a stepladder, fully aware of what I was doing was pretty risky business on that steep hill. I certainly did not want to get stranded with a twisted ankle or worse for a basket of crabapples so I was very careful and restrained myself from any climbing maneuvers. And I left alone the clusters of beautiful crabapples that beckoned to be picked but I could not safely reach.

I neither had the time nor wanted to spend hours standing by the stove stirring, therefore I cooked the crabapple butter in a cast-iron Dutch oven in the oven. In the summer I made plum butter that way and it turned out great. It was late when I finished so I did not can the jars until this morning. That was not a problem, I simply slowly reheated the crabapple butter, stirring constantly until the surface, which had dried out a bit overnight, became smooth again.

To prevent the surface from drying out in the jars, I added a tablespoon of juice to each jar on top of the crabapple butter. I happened to have some quince juice on hand so I used that but I think that apple cider or apple juice would be ideal, and orange juice would work just as well.

Crabapple Butter

4 pounds crabapples, stems removed and picked over

1 teaspoon cinnamon chips

2 cloves

4 cardamom pods

1 star anise

1 teaspoon dried ginger chips (or 1 thumbnail size-piece of peeled fresh ginger)

2 cups sugar

Juice to pour on top (apple cider, orange or apple juice)

1. Wash the crabapples several times in cold water. Put them in a large heavy pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil, then cook over medium heat for 30 to 45 minutes, until the apples are soft and can easily be crushed with a wooden spoon.

2. Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Tie the spices in a piece of cheesecloth.

3. Pass the cooked crabapples through the fine sieve of a food mill. You should have about 4 cups of pulp. Return it to the rinsed pot and add the sugar. Cook over low heat and stir until the sugar dissolves.

4. Pour the pulp in a medium-size Dutch oven, or another ovenproof dish with a tight-fitting lid. The dish should not be too large, otherwise the butter will scorch. Add the mix from the pot and bury the spice bag in it.

5. Cover the pot and place it in the middle rack of the preheated oven. Set the timer for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, stir well and scrape down the sides and over the bottom of the dish. Repeat this every 30 minutes for about 3 hours, until the butter is so thick that a spoon leaves a trace.

6. Remove the spice bag. Fill the hot crabapple butter in sterilized canning jars and push it down with a knife to remove any air pockets. Pour 1 tablespoon juice on top of the butter in each jar. Process the jars in a boiling water bath for 10 minutes.

Makes 4 to 5 8-ounce jars