Yogurt and Granola: Part I

The Yogurt

It turns out that I am very impressionable when it comes to internet food fads. I was all over the no knead bread a couple of years ago, for example, in all its permutations. And when Harold McGee wrote about making yogurt in the "Curious Cook" column in the NY Times a couple of weeks ago, I said, "I want to make yogurt." Then, when I read the article in Slate about the woman making pantry staples from scratch, including yogurt, I said, "I want to make yogurt."

I also realized, however, that I've been saying that I wanted to make yogurt for a lot longer than just a few weeks. It probably goes back to the one time in my life when I had an ample supply of homemade yogurt, when I lived in Jaipur in 1999-2000, and one of the perks of my (otherwise complicated) study abroad job was living in a house that someone else was in charge of. That someone was Jaimala.


(She's in white, with her sister Mala, in a field near their house in Jaipur, where I saw her a few years ago.) In the 9 months I lived there, Jaimala made me very lovely Indian food that I still think about today. And she also made yogurt at least a few times a week, though the weather was sometimes a factor. (It took too long to set in the winter, and it went bad too fast in the hot season.) She was supposed to give me yogurt-making instructions--we talked about it--but it didn't happen.

Two years later, when I was living in Varanasi, I didn't need to make my own yogurt. On the way between my job and my flat was a grungy-looking little sweet shop that made good yogurt. They kept it in a big round pan in the front case, covered with newspaper or cardboard to keep the flies away. I would stop by and ask for 5 rupees worth, and the boy who worked there would scoop it into a little clay cup with a deft flick of the wrist. I ate some pretty much every day. When I was back in Varanasi in January, I was heartened, somehow, to see the same boy manning the shop, and I nearly went back for some, for old time's sake.

So, in short, my yogurt making was a long time coming.

I decided to go as simply as possible the first time around--whole milk, no flavoring. I bought a quart of High Lawn Farm milk and used, as my starter, 2 tablespoons of Desi Natural Dahi, which, as I mentioned yesterday, is the closest thing to homemade Indian yogurt as I've found here. (I'm also partial to Sidehill Farm yogurt so I may try that as a starter another time and see what the difference is.) After that, I basically just followed Harold McGee's instructions. I heated the milk up til it was steaming and had little bubbles but wasn't boiling. I let it cool down until it was somewhere between very warm and hot. I mixed a little bit of the milk in with the yogurt starter, and then I mixed that back into the hot milk. And then I poured whole thing into a container (which, admittedly, I'd forgotten to warm), closed it up, wrapped it in a shawl and tucked the whole thing away into a bowl in the oven.



After four hours, it was still liquid, so I left it in the oven overnight with the light on. And in the morning, there waiting for me, was a lovely quart of yogurt. I put it in the refrigerator to chill, and when I could stand the wait no longer, I took it out and ate some, first by itself and then doctored up.

It was lovely, everything yogurt should be. I can't believe it took me so long to do this.

This morning's bowl, however, was even lovelier. Grapenuts are all well and good (especially in ice cream), but homemade yogurt calls for homemade granola. This morning, I obliged. More about that tomorrow.

Meatless Monday: Chickpeas Three Ways

The truth is, all of my days are meatless and the vast majority of them are fish-less, but with 27 days of blogging still ahead of me, I thought an organizing principle, at least for one day a week, couldn't hurt.

Being both a (mostly) vegetarian and a person who spends time in India, I've eaten many (many) chickpeas in my day. It's not often, though, that I find myself eating them three different ways in one week, as I did recently. I love how versatile they are and how you can make things with them that have nothing in common except for the chickpeas.

Warm Chickpea Salad with Shallots and Red Wine Vinaigrette

This was one of the very first recipes I made from Orangette, and after one bite, I knew that it (and the site) was a keeper. It's easy and quick to make (half an hour, tops), doesn't have a ton of ingredients in it and tastes fabulous. The shallot gives it zing, the carrot gives it sweetness, the olive oil and red wine vinegar make it pleasingly moist, and the chickpeas provide a solid base for the rest. It's also adaptable. You can add some shaved parmesan, for example, or some tuna. I added tuna the last time I made it and it reminded me of a dish I used to make when I lived in Delhi and was feeling peaked--"protein salad," consisting of chickpeas, red onion, olive oil, and tuna.( The tuna came from the Lakshadweep Islands, which I adored, especially since I never heard anything about the Lakshadweep Islands otherwise.) It was, I now realize, a cruder version of this very salad.

You start with the shallots and garlic sitting in the vinegar to mellow:


Then add grated carrot, olive oil, parsley and the chickpeas:


Season to taste, and that's it.

It may not be the prettiest dish you'll ever make, but man is it good. It's lovely warm and equally good cold the next day. And given that Molly got the recipe from Lynne Rosetto Kaspar who, in turn, got it from someone else, it's well-traveled and well-tested. Of course, it would still be delicious without the pedigree, but it's nice to know it has a lot of fans.



Warm Chickpea Salad with Shallots and Red Wine Vinaigrette
From Molly Wizenberg at Orangette, adapted from The Splendid Table Weeknight Kitchen, which in turn excerpted it from Fresh Food Fast: Delicious, Seasonal Vegetarian Meals in Under an Hour

1 large shallot, thinly sliced
3 Tbs red wine vinegar
1 garlic clove, minced
¼ tsp sea salt, plus more to taste
2 (15-ounce) cans chickpeas, drained
1 large carrot, coarsely grated
½ cup flat-leaf (Italian) parsley leaves, chopped
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
Freshly ground black pepper

In a large bowl, combine the shallot, vinegar, garlic, and salt. Set aside for 10 minutes to allow the shallots and garlic to mellow.

In a medium saucepan over high heat, bring 2 quarts of water to a boil. Add the chickpeas, and blanch for a minute or two. Drain.

Add the carrot, parsley, and olive oil to the shallot mixture. Toss in the chickpeas, and season as needed with salt and pepper. Serve immediately, while still warm.

Serves four.

Heather Carlucci-Rodriguez's Chana Punjabi

I saw this recipe in the Wednesday food section of the NY Times a month or two back, and I hoped against hope that these chickpeas might even faintly resemble the chickpeas I adore beyond measure that are served at my beloved Bengali Sweet House in Bengali Market in Delhi:


(When I was there in January, I nearly got a shot of the enormous vat of the blessed chickpeas themselves, but I couldn't get an unobstructed view, and I felt a little bit self-conscious to be snapping away in a crowded restaurant.)

The sad news is that these chickpeas do not resemble the beloved ones from Delhi. The good news is that they're good in a different way--tangy and savory and satisfying. And now that
I know that Heather Carlucci-Rodriguez runs a little Indian take-out place in NYC called Lassi, it gives me yet another Indian food destination next time I'm down there.

Luisa over at The Wednesday Chef has written an excellent post on these chickpeas, so I'm going to direct you over there for the recipe: Chana Punjabi

Chickpea Crepes

Technically speaking, these crepes are made with besan--chickpea flour--rather than chickpeas themselves. Still, they are chickpea-related, so I thought they would count for this post

I found the recipe in the Washington Post's daily food blog, A Mighty Appetite, (The recipe was under their Meatless Monday category.), but it is taken from a brand new cookbook by Monica Bhide called Modern Spice. I know Monica ( in an internet sort of way) and know that she's a lovely writer and also a fabulous Indian cook, so I had no doubt that these crepes would be good. They did require a trip to the Asian grocery store--for the besan and some of the spices (and for cheap cilantro)--but it was totally worth it. Because I decided to make these sort of at the last minute, I didn't have time to make the potatoes mentioned in the article. Instead, we ate these just with plain yogurt, also from the Asian grocery store. (It's called Desi Natural Dahi, and it's the closest thing to the kind of yogurt you get in India that I've found here.) These were also quick to make and spicy and savory and a bit crispy and a bit soft all at once. I put the leftover batter in the fridge and finished it up the next day, and they were just as good the second time around. I'm looking forward to making them again, with the potatoes, this time, or a fried egg, as Kim O'Donnel talks about, or maybe just with yogurt again, except with my very own yogurt.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. More about the yogurt tomorrow.

For now, Monica Bhide's Addictive Chickpea Crepes.

Where the Tree Used to Be

When I moved here in late 2004, there was a dying birch tree in the garden. I'm not sure if it was planted in the garden on purpose or if the garden had grown around it, but there it was, not exactly smack in the middle, but a definite presence. In the winter, the branches froze and fell off, and by the next summer, it was a spindly and wobbly and quite clearly dead.

Last year (or maybe the year before), Alex had had enough of the spindly dead birch tree, and one day, he cut it down. This did not take a huge amount of effort--he tied some thin rope around it to guide it as it fell, and he used a small hand saw to cut it. The whole thing took maybe 15 minutes. What was left was a tall spindly stump:

I planted the false indigo in front of the stump, and I pulled out the blackberry brambles from around the stump. I used the stump as a reference point, and it gave some focus to that section of the garden. Okay, maybe not the most attractive focus, but focus nonetheless.

And then yesterday, I was digging around in that section of the garden. There's some Greek oregano that's grown a bit too enthusiastically for my taste (given that I've never used it for anything), and I was digging some of that up, along with the lemon balm that likes to spread. (I like lemon balm for the scent but, again, I've never used it for anything, so I don't mind losing some of it.) I kept digging up chunks of rotting wood, and then I pressed on the stump, and it moved. Like a loose tooth, it wiggled rather ominously and did not feel entirely moored to its base. I couldn't really think of any reason that the tree really needed to be where it was. So with a bit more wiggling and a yank, it was out.


Now, I have to admit, I'm slightly flummoxed. On the one hand, I have what amounts to an unexpected space for a small perennial bed (especially if I'm vigilant with the oregano). On the other, the bed looks strange with no stump in it. The garden looks strange without the stump. I look out and think I can see it, as if it's my vestigial dead birch tree.

The space doesn't look that big above, but I realized that if I take out or move the lemon balm and the other misc. plants in the immediate vicinity like the ferns and the little violas, and if I cut back more on the Greek oregano, I'll actually have a decent sized bed to work with:


I have to admit that, in general, I'm a pretty haphazard gardener. I don't usually plan things out ahead of time--I see plants I think I'll like and buy them (or accept them from friends) and come home and find a space for them. If they're in a place that's really not working, I'll move them. And because I moved to a house that had an established garden already, I'm also working around what was already here, the good choices--most of the bulbs, the hydrangeas, the gorgeous peony--and the less good ones--the yellow irises by the back door, the motley front beds I never get around to trying to fix. This bed, once it becomes a bed, will be my first real opportunity to plan a perennial bed, even a small one. It's an intriguing prospect, a challenge. The first task is to move what's there and doctor the soil some. After that, who knows what I'll come up with. I'm excited to figure it out.

Late Breaking Blogathon Additions

I was delighted to learn today that two of my favorite people are joining the May Blogathon.

Yay for Lisa at Mappa Mundi
and
Debi at The World Without.

I'm so happy to have their company in this!

First Farmer's Market of the Season

I'm always delighted when the farmers' market comes back in the spring. It's especially nice when it happens on a sunny Saturday. I tried really hard to be restrained today--it's easy to come home laden with plants that will still be sitting next to--but not in--the garden the following week. I tried hard to limit myself to what I thought I would be able to plant in the next few days (with the understanding that there are lots of seeds I want to plant also).

The haul:

• 1 coral bells for the bed (part-shade) under the stone wall in the back
  

• 1 blue salvia for the main garden--I had one that was quite lovely last year and seems to have died from unknown causes, unfortunately

• 1 perennial bachelor's button for the main garden

• 1 flat leeks (not sure if these will be at home or the community garden)
  

• 1 flat shallots (ditto)

• 2 bags spinach

Re: the spinach--I opted for 2 $1 bags from the old Polish guy who sits at a table (sometimes with his wife) at the very end of the market. He never has much--bags of spinach, bags of butternut squash, blueberries in mid-summer, onions. But I like to buy the spinach from him and not just because the only other spinach on hand was $4 a bag at one of the organic stands. Last year, I heard someone quizzing him on whether he used any chemicals on his spinach, and he got indignant. His argument was along the lines of, "Why do you need to put that stuff on spinach? I've been growing spinach for XX years, and I've never put that stuff on my spinach. Why would I start now?" Etc. It seemed pretty certain that, whether his spinach was officially organic or not, he didn't put any stuff on it, and that was good enough for me. If there's enough excess green garlic at the community garden (not what I planted on purpose last fall, which still needs a bit more time), maybe I'll make the inaugural batch of Molly from Orangette's spinach and green garlic soup. But not right now. It's late afternoon, the sun is still shining, and the garden is calling my name.

Blogathon Roll Call

I'm going to put these links up on the side soon, but for the moment, here are the other participants in this month's blogathon. (There may be a few more to add in the next day or so, but I wanted to get the initial list up today.) I'm not familiar with most of these blogs, so I'm looking forward to exploring some of them (and seeing how everyone is doing under the pressure of daily posting) over the next month.

Vera Marie Badertscher: A Traveler's Library -- Books and movies that influence travel.

Heather Boerner: Self Employed Serenity -- Advice for the self-employed among us.

Melanie Bonsall: Expert Editing -- The online home of this editor, proofreader and writer.

Jane Boursaw: Film Gecko -- May Movie Madness and other film-related stuff.

Danielle Buffardi: Horrible Sanity -- Random thoughts of a mother and freelance writer.

Sona Charaipotra: Sona Charaipotra for entertainment topics and Ishq in a Backpack on travel and food.

Rosie Colombraro : Trust the Universe -- There is always a Plan B.

Jackie Dishner: Bike with Jackie -- Improving your life with the B.I.K.E. spiritual navigation tool.

Ron S. Doyle: Ron S. Doyle -- Online home of this Denver, Colo., freelance writer and founder of Twittercize and Blog Salad

Kelly Estes: Big Government in Your Wallet -- A political blog

Jennifer L.W. Fink: Blogging 'Bout Boys -- With 4 boys between 3 and 11, this writer knows her subject.

Sydne George: I'll Have What She's Cooking -- Good eats.

Debra Gordon: Wine on Tuesdays

Nancy Hall: Floating Ink -- How to fit making art into your every day life.

KT Hinderer: Write Beyond the Cubicle --Musings of a full-time freelance writer and editor.

Heather Holliday: Zazou Marketing -- Putting your best words forward.

Elizabeth Humphrey: The Write Elizabeth -- Introducing creativity into daily life.

Leah Ingram: Suddenly Frugal -- Tips for frugal living.

JoAnn Jagroop: This Dame Cooks -- Recipes from Alaska to the South Pacific.

Sara Lancaster: No. 2 Pencil.com Blog -- Blog of this Boulder, Colo., freelance Web & marketing writer.

Jerad Lopatin: Sign in Ink -- Everyday life as motivated by astrological happenings.

Sarah E. Ludwig: Parenting by Trial and Error--Parenting by learning, growing, staying flexible.

Lisa Mann: Sonoma on the Cheap -- One of the "On the Cheap blogs," this one for Sonoma, Calif.

Joy Manning: What I Weigh Today -- A food writer reflects on weight and body image issues.

Amy Rauch Neilson: Amy Rauch Neilson -- This blog's official launch date is Monday, May 4.

Jennifer Netherby: Jennifer Netherby -- Musings of a freelance writer.

Michelle Rafter: WordCount -- Freelancing in the Digital Age

Kate Reilly: Polka Dot Suitcase -- Finding fun in everyday life.

Meredith Resnick: The Writer's Journey

Melissa Sais: Digital Mom -- Raising kids in a digital world.

Brette Sember: Martha and Me -- One Martha Stewart makeover every day.

Kathy Summers: Eco Pregnancy and Baby and Health Writing Hints.

Jodi Torpey: Western Gardeners--Your online guide to gardening in the West.

Sarah Webb: Webb of Science -- Where science meets life.

May Blogathon

Given my sporadic presence here this last month or so, I'm feeling slightly dubious about my ability to be a prolific (or, at least, daily) blogger, but I'm going to try. Michelle Rafter, a fellow participant at Freelance Success, has offered up the second annual May Blogathon challenge. I had just started my blog last year when she and others did the first one, and I wasn't feeling quite up to the challenge. But perhaps because I had a lame April, I'm feeling more inspired this year. We'll see how it goes. Tomorrow, I'll post a list of all the other bloggers participating, and the month of blogging will begin.

One tidbit I can offer now, however: By the time the local news caught on to the story of the roving gang of snow blower thieves, 10 snow blowers in my little town alone had been taken. (And this was over a week ago, so who knows how many more are gone now.) My insurance company was speedy, and a check arrived yesterday for replacement cost minus the deductible. Since I'm not going to get a new one til the fall, this gives me some time to come up with an appropriate snow blower protection scheme. According to one friend (Hi Cara!), this sounds like I'm planning to "hire a couple of mafia goons to stand outside [my] garage and look menacing in case anyone else tries to rip anything off." Alas, the real plan probably won't be nearly as interesting . . .

Happy May!