Kitchen Home News

There are a few things that can make even the most stalwart summer-lover feel glad about the waning sun. One of those miracles is the wild fruit that is offered up just before autumn arrives, found in all the unruly places.  I have discovered abandoned lots that house shaggy crab-apple trees, grapevines left to wander over fences and grow down into alleyways and walking paths, and huge stands of wild rose that grow all over the valley hills.  The elderberries show off their dusty blue fruit now, teasing from just beyond my reach, and I've spotted several unruly apple trees from long-forgotten orchards still valiantly offering up their bounty. While on a walk in the hills with a dear friend this week, we came upon a very large stand of wild roses that were boasting bright red hips.  My nieces have been complaining about scratchy throats lately, so I harvested a small amount of the vitamin C-packed fruit and headed home to make syrup. Simple Rosehip Syrup Wash rosehips, and remove en

“When you’re young you prefer the vulgar months, the fullness of the seasons. As you grow older you learn to like the in-between times, the months that can’t make up their minds. Perhaps it’s a way of admitting that things can’t ever bear the same certainty again.”    ~   Julian Barnes ,  Flaubert's Parrot There is much talk of autumn arriving early this year.  And even more protesting that it is certainly not arriving yet, along with earnest pleas not to rush summer out before its due time.   For those of us who work in tandem with the land and the weather and the fauna that live alongside us, it can be exciting to see the seasonal changes when they show themselves. But change is constant.  We gardeners know that the moment the seed enters the soil, change begins, and does not stop until the fully flowering, fruiting, seeding plant is spent and begins its descent back into the earth again.   Goldenrod Mid to late August is the beginning of a between-time here in the Valley, that

Three weeks ago my nieces and I, along with my friend and her daughter, got up at 2am and headed south to Oregon to a mysterious and wonderful place called Faerieworlds .  It is an eleven-hour drive for us through the hottest, most parched days of summer, and nothing but heat, dirt and sweat greet you when you arrive. And we wouldn't miss it.   This was only our third year attending, but the feeling of being there among all those people who feel the 'otherness' of their being calling them to gather at that event, is something that will draw us back every year. This was the last year Faerieworlds would be at Mount Pisgah, just outside Eugene.  Next year I'm told it will appear outside Portland, and I'm glad for the extra hour or two off our driving journey. As always, the people were friendly and generous, the staff and security were incredible (one security person rescued us when we locked the keys in our car,) and the food and vendors were top notch.  The music, ge

We are easing into the deepest expanse of summer here in The Valley.  At the farmers market, there are still signs of earlier crops - an occasional grower that has found a way to shelter his lettuce through the fiercest heat of July and the reappearance of strawberries from ever bearing plants - but the full bounty of the sun-drenched season is now on display, nearly toppling over the market tables. That means onions and carrots share space with peaches, apricots, and nectarines.  Early plums and apples have appeared.  Pickling cucumbers and all manner of summer squash fill baskets in dizzying numbers. Heirloom tomatoes in wild colors and designs are proudly displayed and the poor hot-house growers (who were so valued in the cooler months) are passed by for field grown treasures.  The harvest is staggering. July was a whirlwind of constant garden care, due to the surprisingly lengthy heat wave. We are used to hitting or hovering close to the 100 degree mark for a week or so in July, bu