The Lost Chihuahua & A Summer Cocktail

There's the saying that we should "pay attention to the signs." And then there are young children like my son, who are fascinated by the familiar, yet not always recognizable squiggles, lines, and edges written on an actual sign.

Two weeks ago, as we were driving past the lake by our house, Kingston pointed at a sign and asked, "What that say?"

This was one of several large yellow posters placed high up on telephone poles in the near vicinity. I'd seen them but hadn't given them much thought once I'd driven past.

I explained to Kingston that the sign in front of us was for a lost dog. Someone, maybe a family, had lost their chihuahua. Of course, I then had to explain what a chihuahua was, since he had never met one.

Over the following days, he became fascinated by the idea that a little black dog cherished by someone was gone, and that there was a person, perhaps an entire family, searching for it. 

He entered into this thought with the innate enthusiasm that is common to most three-and-a-half-year olds. For instance, he began to make up songs about the chihuahua and sing them loudly, not caring one iota where we were -- next to the dog treat section of Trader Joe's, in the library, at the park. Every version naturally included a rousing chorus that went, "Lost chihuahua, where are you?" (repeat at least twice)

Then, a day or two after his musical efforts began, Kingston informed us that he was a dog and that we should call him not by his given name, but by "Dog." As in, "Good boy, Dog," which we should say as we patted him on the head.

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Bedtime was also overtaken by the lost chihuahua, as together we wove ever-more elaborate tales about the poor, lost dog who was heartbroken over his separation from his beloved family, especially the boy who would snuggle with him every night in bed. How he missed his boy!

Such enthusiasm. What was it all about? What did it mean? 

Then last week, I was reading Maria Popova's wonderful, Brain Pickings, which featured a piece on the writer, Neil Gaiman. His insight on stories about animals and why children are drawn to them, resonated with me:

“Animals in fiction … are your first attempt to put your head into the “other” and to experience the other, the idea of another…

The most important thing that I think fiction does [is that] it lets us look out through other eyes … but it also gives us empathy. The act of looking out through other eyes tells us something huge and important, which is that other people exist.

[…]

One of the things that fiction can give us is just the realization that behind every pair of eyes, there’s somebody like us. And, perhaps, looking out through animal eyes, there’s somebody like us; looking out through alien eyes, there’s somebody like us.”

— Neil Gaiman

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Other people exist. There's somebody else like us. What Mr. Gaiman posits seems absolutely spot on.

I can't help but think of Kingston's fascination with the lost dog and the way he has taken to calling it the "poor, poor chihuahua." 

What if we could see the world as children again? Would we foster more empathy within ourselves if, as adults, we regularly practiced being a horse, a cat, or even...a black chihuahua? Would we end up being more loving, more fully realized human beings?

Could be. I say we give it a try.

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The Lost Chihuahua
My own imagination took over as I tried to think more about the chihuahua as a child might. The poor dog, separated from the people it loved needed a bit of comfort. Silly as this might sound, I thought it might like a cocktail to soothe its frazzled frou-frou soul. 

I thought it might find something bubbly like prosecco a suitable choice. Prosecco mixed with something fruity, maybe since it was living in this (our hippie) town, something "alive," possibly fermented. Maybe it would like a touch of an herb, say, a sprig or two of mint. 

This is how the Lost Chihuahua was found in the form of the perfect summer drink. While you are enjoying this light and fizzy beverage, don't forget to make a toast to the real lost chihuahua. Cheers!

Makes two drinks.

Ingredients
1/4 cup, homemade berry shrub (or substitute a purchased berry kombucha)
1 1/2  cups (14 oz.) Prosecco
two sprigs of mint, for garnish
a few berries of your choice, for garnish (I used alpine strawberries from my backyard)

Instructions
Pour half the shrub into each double-rocks glass already filled with ice. Add half the Prosecco to one glass, then the other half to the next glass. Give each drink a stir. Garnish with sprigs of mint and berries. That's it!

Snap Pea Salad with Red Chile, Feta, Mint and Lettuce

With all the beautiful produce showing up recently, it's been hard not to have salad on the brain. In fact, it's easy to start daydreaming about being Yotam Ottolenghi, the vegetable master, flipping all sorts of gorgeous possibilities around in my mind. Red chile? Snap peas? Feta? Yes.

There is much to hope for in a good salad. When seasonings and textures are in harmony and the freshest ingredients used, a salad can be invigorating. Uplifting, even. This is especially true on those hot days when we feel droopy to the point of not wanting to eat - or hope for - much of anything.

Salads can veer off into wild exuberance, with acidity, for instance, nearly taking over only to be pulled back from the edge by just the right amount of salt. Crunch can get piled on top of more crunchiness and crispness, each element steeped in its individual flavor. If they are put together right, a mouthful is bliss on a sunny day.

I know people like my neighbor, Heather, however, who dreads putting a salad together for fear of not doing it right or making it "too bland." I'm not sure where this fear comes from, but it must be set it aside. 

Those intimidated, would-be vegetable artists need to step up to the task of salad making with courage and determination. Not to do so would mean missing out on life.

"Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the people," writes the very wise Anne Lamott in Bird by Bird.

But really, when it comes to warm weather produce and what to do with it, this line could be rewritten as: "Perfectionism is the voice of the oppressor, the enemy of the salad."

This means, be brave and pull it together. Don't be afraid of making a salad with what you have. Don't worry too much about the outcome. Dare to let your veggies be great. 

Walk through the farmer's market or the produce section and grab what pleases you. If you are fortunate enough to be asked by a neighbor (such as mine) to water her garden while she is visiting Southern California or even have a small plot of your very own, pick what is ready and calling out to you. 

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Step back and gaze at the pile of things you have collected and thunked down on the counter. In what ways could they possibly be encouraged to live happily together?

Maybe just a dressing will do? The simplest one I can think of for a large head of lettuce washed, torn, and thrown into a bowl is made with the juice of half a lemon, a few glugs of good olive oil (twice as much as the juice) and a generous pinch of salt.

Knit them together with a quick, energetic whisking. If no lemon is in sight, a lime will work just as well. Or use a vinegar instead.

Taste as you go along. Make sure that you have yin to balance out the yang of your vegetables. If something is crisp, add an element that may be soft or silky. Tart? Add sour. Bitterness? Add sweetness. And so on. Just have fun with it and should anything go amiss, it can always be corrected. 

In the worst case, when you can't quite figure it out (with practice, this will happen with less and less frequency until it becomes a non-concern) you will at the very least, still have something fresh and healthy to eat.

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Snap Pea Salad with Red Chile, Feta, Mint and Lettuce
Our neighbors did ask me to water their veggie garden while they were away for ten days recently. They had plenty of snap peas, which I had to snatch away from Kingston, who ate them out of hand. I had the lettuce, chile, onion and a hunk of feta in the fridge already. Mint and tarragon were in my herb box on the back deck. So, this was a salad about using what I had. These, for me, are always the most enjoyable kinds of meals. Simplicity itself. 

Serves 3 to 4.

Ingredients
2 cups snap peas
1 small fresh red chile
1 small fresh banana pepper (optional)
1/3 cup crumbled feta cheese
6 or 7 Boston or Butter lettuce leaves (larger, outer leaves)
Fresh mint, enough leaves to make 1 teaspoon when roughly chopped
Fresh tarragon, 1 sprig, leaves torn off
1 teaspoon black sesame seeds, plus more
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 tablespoon olive oil
salt and pepper

Instructions
Cut snap peas on the diagonal into 1/2-inch pieces. Mince the red chile. Cut banana pepper lengthwise then again crosswise into thin pieces, about 1/8-inch each (if using). Roughly chop mint and tear or cut tarragon into small pieces.

Whisk together lemon juice and olive oil. Add salt to taste, keeping in mind hat the feta will add saltiness as well. Just a small pinch was enough for me.

Add torn lettuce pieces to the snap peas and peppers. Drizzle dressing over the veggies and scatter sesame seeds and then the feta. Add a grind or two of fresh black pepper. Toss salad gently but thoroughly with your hands or with tongs. Make sure all of the vegetables are coated with a bit of the dressing.

Serve in a big salad bowl or on individual plates. Scatter a pinch more of the sesame seeds over the salad before serving. Eat immediately.

Roasted Blueberry and Lemon Balm Ice Cream

Blueberries are the friendliest and easiest to love of all the berry types available to us here in Western Washington. Sweet, slightly tart and free of tiny seeds or pits, when the blues are plentiful, we snack on them all day. 

We freeze pounds and pounds of them every summer. Usually they lasts us until about February, March if we're lucky.

Last August, Kingston and I were down at Bow Hill Blueberry Farm picking enough beautiful organic fruit to keep us happy through the cold months.

After our busy morning, our trunk packed with fruit, we paused for some ice cream. Kingston hopped around on the bench out front, eager for us to dig into the single-serving container. Together, we scooped up the creamy goodness with tiny wooden spatulas. 

The ice cream was made by a certain San Juan Island purveyor. It was just the right temperature for cooling off on an already warm morning. We both certainly enjoyed it a lot. But as I was eating it, I kept thinking that I wanted more of that spark of cheerful blueberry flavor.

So, when we opened this week's box from our CSA to find the first of this season's blueberries, last summer's blueberry ice cream at Bow Hill popped into my mind. A note in the CSA box suggested that we make blueberry shortcakes, but I had other ideas of course. Ice cream!

And off I went.

Inspired by my favorte ice cream maker, David Liebovitz, I drizzled Lyle's Golden Syrup over the berries and put them in the oven. After half an hour, the downstairs of our house smelled intensely like blueberries. The extra water content in the berries had oozed out and evaporated, leaving behind a thick purple syrup alive with berry flavor.

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A bunch of lemon balm was also in our CSA box. I tore off a leaf and bit into it to discover a deep lemony aroma with strong floral notes. Blueberry and lemon are ideal partners. The lemon balm, which contains both herbaceous and floral scents, would add a citrusy quality with undertones of more.

This is an ice cream with deep blueberry flavor. Each bite is full of the whole, roasted berries which are both toothsome and fruity.

Kingston and I served this to his Dad and his Uncle Jack, who is also a Dad, for Father's Day. The guys ate everything without uttering a word. 

"Does it taste blueberry-ish enough?" I dared to ask while they were still eating.

Silence. Then, nods all around. 

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Blueberry and Lemon Balm Ice Cream
A perfect treat for Father's Day, Midsummer's Day, or any time, really. It's for anyone who loves blueberry flavor, plus more.

Adapted from David Liebovitz.

Ingredients:

For the roasted blueberries:
1 lb. blueberries, fresh or frozen
2 tablespoons Lyle's Golden Syrup (or substitute honey)

For the ice cream custard:
1 3/4 cup whole milk
1/2 cup (100 g) sugar
2 teaspoons finely chopped lemon balm
3 strips of lemon zest
1 cup heavy whipping cream
5 egg yolks

Instructions:

For the blueberries:
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Place blueberries in one roasting pan (use two if needed) large enough so that the berries remain in a single layer. Drizzle the Golden Syrup over the berries. Place in the preheated oven and roast for 30-35 minutes, stirring at least once. Roast until the berries have given up some of their liquid and a thick, purple syrup has formed. Place berries in a container and set aside to cool.

Blueberries may be prepared up to three days ahead.

For the ice cream custard:
In a large bowl, prepare an ice bath. Place a smaller bowl in the ice bath and set a fine-meshed strainer on top. Pour heavy cream through the sieve into the bowl.

In a small saucepan, combine sugar and milk. On medium-low heat, warm the mixture. When warm, add the lemon balm and lemon zest. Turn off heat, cover with lid, and allow flavors to infuse for 30 minutes.

After the 30 minutes, reheat the milk over medium-low heat until it is hot, Stir together egg yolks. Add a few tablespoons of milk to the yolks and stir quickly. Add a bit more milk and stir again. This warms up the egg yolks and prevents them from curdling.

Pour the yolk mixture into the heated milk-sugar mixture and stir quickly using a heat-proof spatula. Continue stirring and scraping the bottom. This will prevent lumps and clumps from forming. As you stir and scrape, you will eventually notice that the bottom is becoming easier to scrape. It almost feels silky, as if the spatula is gliding across the bottom of the saucepan. This is a sign that your custard is nearly done. It is fully done when the mixture coats the spatula.

Pour the custard through the sieve and into the bowl of cream. Mix quickly and vigorously so that everything is combined and cools slightly. Cover the bowl and place in the refrigerator to cool completely. Overnight is best.

When the mixture has thoroughly cooled, place it in your ice cream maker and churn according to manufacturer's instructions. Once you have started the churning, add the blueberry mixture. When done with churning, place the finished ice cream in a freezer-proof container and put in the freezer for a few hours to harden a bit more.

Serve plain or with some fresh berries, and garnish with lemon balm leaves.

Strawberries and Cream Oat Scones & A Simple Salmon Berry Shrub

A couple of nights ago, I looked out the window to see the sky stained twilight blue, the last of the day's glow stubbornly pushing against the coming of night. It was 10 p.m. The days of extended light are stretching out toward their midsummer peak right about now. 

For me, this means one thing: it's berry time.

When it comes to berries of any kind, I am a greedy little child. I am a crazy fool who can't stop stuffing them into her mouth. I am that person whose tongue is stained red, purple and sometimes blue, juices leaking down her chin. And I don't care.

Before I lived in Washington, berries weren't that big of a deal to me. It sounds weird to say that now. But, in Southern California, where I grew up, we had citrus - tangy and bitter kumquats that my grandmother grew, endless supplies of yellow grapefruit from the backyard tree. Oranges and lemons from next door. These were the fruits that sustained me.

Then, we moved to the Pacific Northwest. Berry country. While I still love my citrus fruits, they don't grow here and berries have taken their place front and center.

So this is how it goes around here. First there are the local strawberries at the end of May, which last for about five weeks into June. Then in July, there are the raspberries, which I could eat forever. Then sweet and easy-to-love blueberries arrive and stay on into September.

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Cultivated strawberries from Everson, WA.

Around the same time as the blueberries, the wild blackberries appear growing in unruly thickets along fence lines, trails and streets both wide and narrow.

Himalayan and evergreen blackberry varieties are considered invasive ("class C noxious weeds," according to the state of Washington, for those who insist on the facts). I know people who loathe them because no matter how you beat them back from the edge of your property, they just keep returning.

Maybe it's because I'm not from here that I have to say but wait, wait! Taste them.

There is just something about walking along, plucking the blackberries from their thorny branches. Popping them into your mouth and letting the tart floral juices pool on your tongue for a moment before they trickle down your throat. It's intoxicating.

Not only is this is the closest thing any of us get to grazing like a wild animal. For me, picking wild berries is the closest we'll ever come to knowing what it was like before Adam ate that damned apple, when humankind resided in innocence and perfection.

But wait. There is, of course, more. Between the wild blackberries and local farm-cultivated berries, we have red huckleberries, currants, thimbleberries, wild strawberries and salmon berries throughout the woods and free for the taking.

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Wild salmonberries. They look a bit like raspberries. But also a bit like salmon roe. And, they taste floral and melon-y at the same time.

I'll pick and forage enough berries during these warmer months to make different jams, jellies, vinegar shrubs and baked treats. I'll also definitely freeze some of my loot so that during the long, dark months of winter, our family will have these sweet jewels to fill the short days with light.

This year, Kingston and I started our berry celebration once again at Spring Frog Farm in Everson. After petting their big black farm cat sufficiently (per the three-year-old), we plonked our knees into the dirt and reached our hands under the low-growing plants to pick heaps and heaps of strawberries.

Once we brought them home, we cooked up a batch of Rachel Saunder's Children's Strawberry Jam (our favorite) then baked these tender scones for you.

We hope you'll enjoy every morsel.

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Strawberries and Cream Oat Scones
Because this recipe uses oats along with all-purpose flour, these scones are a bit more fragile that you might typically expect. Using the oats is worth it though because the oats bring the butter flavor even more strongly to the fore than all-purpose flour alone would. (Note: Alice Medrich mentions this in the oat flour chapter of her wonderful book, Flavor Flours.) Just let the scones cool for at least 15 minutes and they will be more willing to be picked up and handled by a hungry eater.  

Makes 8 scones.

Ingredients
1 1/2 cup (180g) all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cup (116 g) old-fashioned oats, divided
2 teaspoons (12 g) ground flax seeds
5 tablespoons (65 g) fine natural cane or granulated sugar
1 tablespoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
6 tablespoons (85 g) cold butter, cut into 1/2 to 3/4-inch pieces
3/4 cup strawberries, hulled 
3/4 cup heavy whipping cream, plus extra for finishing
1 cold large egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Demarara or turbinado sugar for sprinkling

Instructions
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Place a piece of parchment on a baking sheet. Set aside.

Cut strawberries lengthwise into 1/4-inch slices, then cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces. Set aside in small bowl.

Put half of the oats into a blender or mini-processor, whizzing to fine consistency. In a large bowl, combine the ground oats, all-purpose flour, flax seeds, sugar, baking powder and sea salt. Add in the remaining (unprocessed) oats.

Toss butter into the flour mixture, so that all pieces are coated. Putting hands into an offering gesture, place some of the flour and butter into your open-palmed hands. Using your fingers and thumbs, press down on the butter, smearing it into the flour. Allow bits of the mixture to fall back through your fingertips and into the bowl. Repeat until you have worked the butter through most of the flour. You will notice that you can really start smelling the butter, which means that it is warming up and really getting worked in. Toss the strawberries in, using your hands to gently distribute the fruit throughout the mixture.

Whisk together the cream, egg and vanilla. Slowly drizzle it in a spiral motion from the outside in toward the center of your flour-butter mixture. Using a fork, quickly work the wet ingredients in. Take a bit of the dough without any strawberries and squeeze it. If it holds together, it has enough moisture. If it doesn't, add a few drops more cream. Test again by squeezing a bit of dough together. You dough will appear shaggy, but there is no need to fret.

Tip the dough mixture onto a lightly floured surface. Gather it together kneading quickly and lightly. Shape the dough into a 1--inch thick circle. Using a floured knife or pastry scraper, cut in half, then again into quarters. Cut twice more across the circle until you have 8 wedges. (Alternatively, you could use a biscuit cutter and make these into round shapes.) Place wedges on your prepared sheet.

It's best to let your scones rest for 20 minutes, or longer, if you have the time. Place them in the refrigerator or freezer to rest.

When ready, brush some cream onto the tops of the scones. Sprinkle generously with sugar.

Place scones in the middle of oven. Bake for 20-22 minutes, or until golden brown. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for 2 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Keeps in a sealed container for 2-3 days. Reheat them at low heat in the oven if you wish.

Adapted from Tara O'Brady's wonderful new book, Seven Spoons. Go out and buy it already, people. It belongs on your kitchen bookshelf.

Simple Salmon Berry Shrub

Makes about 2 cups.

Ingredients
1 cup salmon berries
1 cup raw unrefined cane sugar
1 cup apple raw (unpasteurized) cider vinegar

Instructions
Give your berries a gentle rinse and drain in a colander.

Place berries in a medium non-reactive bowl. Crush berries lightly with the tines of a fork to release the juices. Pour sugar over the berries, stirring so that all the berries are coated.

Cover mixture and place in the refrigerator for at least several hours and up to a couple of days.

When you uncover the bowl, you'll see that the berries have exuded their juices and combined with the sugar to form a syrup. Scrape berries, syrup and any remaining undissolved sugar into a fine-meshed sieved over a bowl and press through the sieve.

Combine the collected syrup, juices and sugar with the vinegar and pour into a sterilized bottle or large jar with a non-metallic lid. Any remaining undissolved sugar will eventually be dissolved by the acids in the vinegar.

Use right away or allow to age slightly in the fridge. Your shrub will mellow out and the flavors will come together the longer it is allowed to sit, up to one month. Use the shrub in a cocktail or enjoy simply with some soda water and a bit of citrus.

Note: If you can't find any salmon berries, feel free to substitute another type. Raspberries will do just nicely, for example.

My Bird's Nest Soup

Chris and Aslan, two of the very capable guys from Flying Colors Painting Company came by our house recently to pressure wash and paint the exterior. We shut all of our windows, as (sensibly) instructed. Then the wet, noisy process began.  

I have to admit, it was exciting, especially for our family's younger set, who stood patiently by each window watching, moving to the next suitable viewing point as the areas of washing shifted and water cascaded down around us.  

Since our house is adjacent to the woods, we end up with a lot of dampness and dirt, moss and leaves over the whole structure. Because of where it sits, our house (and yard) is the perfect receptacle for catching all the stuff that gets blown about and out of the woods. After many years of going without, the washing was much needed.

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The other thing that happens due to our location is that certain animals, birds especially, seem to view our house as an extension of the woods. This means that in the Spring, all sorts of interesting activities start up around us.

This year, a pileated woodpecker appeared (again), hammering away at a metal vent high on the east side of our house. The noise echoed loudly enough to set my back teeth on edge. This went on for what seemed like weeks. Bunnies hopped out past the rhododendron and onto our lawn. The deer -- well, if you've been reading this blog, you've already heard plenty about them.

For me, though, the most interesting visitors this year were the pair of robins who settled under one of the eaves out front. We watched them every day after they first arrived. They were so busy gathering twigs and bits of soft, sphagnum moss from the lawn that they didn't even notice us at first. 

I admired their work ethic and drive to protect the nest. My son and I would quietly lean over the edge of the porch together to examine its changes each day. The nest was beautiful in a fecund sort of way and surprisingly large, with wisps of light green hanging down from it.  It looked like something out of a children's book.

The hatchlings arrived and quickly became strong enough to fly off. Thankfully, the robins were done with the nest before the painters came.

After the pressure washing was done, the nest, which had been knocked out of the eave lay sideways and empty on the ground. Everything does have its time and season.

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My Bird's Nest Soup
When I was growing up in Chinatown, we would enjoy traditional bird's nest soup at wedding banquets. The authentic Chinese version is made from the spit of swallows, which lends the soup a viscous quality. Even as a child, I never found it (or the idea of it) either weird or disgusting. It was always just utterly delicious. This clean, simple and completely non-traditional version is my ode to Spring and our robin visitors. It makes a perfect light lunch or supper.

Serves 2.

Ingredients
1-8.8 ounce package of angel hair nests
6 cups good-quality chicken or vegetable broth, preferably homemade
1/3 of a bunch of fresh spinach, leaves wash and torn into pieces
2 very fresh, large eggs
1 teaspoon vinegar

Sesame oil for drizzling
Cilantro, parsley, basil or other soft-stemmed herbs, chopped
Fresh pepper and salt

Instructions
Place broth in a medium pot over medium heat. Once the broth comes to a simmer, turn to low to keep it hot. Taste for seasoning. If the broth is homemade you may need to adjust for salt.

Split the torn leaves between two wide soup bowls, placing them at the bottom. Set aside.

Bring a medium pot of water to boil. Salt water generously. Add two angel hair nests and cook according to package directions (mine were Delverde brand and took 3 minutes). Don't break up the nest shapes. They will cook through even undisturbed.

Bring another medium pot of water to boil. Add vinegar. Crack one egg at a time, placing eggs into separate ramekins or small cups. Using a wooden spoon, stir the water to create a vortex motion and slip one egg at a time into the water whites first.  Cook for three minutes. With a large metal spoon, scoop each egg out one at a time, cutting off loose strands of white with the edge of the spoon. Place one egg on top of each angel's hair nest.

Ladle hot broth along the sides of the bowl, making sure to cover the spinach and part of the pasta nest. The heat of the broth is sufficient to wilt the leaves.

Drizzle with sesame oil and garnish with fresh herbs and pepper.