Garden

Our journey north yesterday was so much fun! Visiting River Brook Farm in Cochecton really got me excited about the arrival of the new season—though in the wake of gale force winds and freezing rain that still seems a ways off up here. Still, nothing says spring like cuddling with a baby goat. They are so silky and sweet-smelling, so lovable and mischievous, nibbling on your hair and your fingers and your collar. As you can see, I was in ecstasy. It was also great to see the farmers, Alice and Neil, whom we hadn't visited in a couple of months. They're all revved up for planting season, super-organized and already cutting bags of salad greens—spinach, mache, miner's lettuce, etc—from their greenhouse. And they've still got several kinds of potatoes, jars upon jars of rare heirloom beans, and hardy vegetables like squash and celery root.

After a prolonged stop at the farm, we made our way up to Delaware Delicacies, Ray Turner's smokehouse in a remote corner of Hancock, New York.
Read More...

Have you heard about the plight of the bats here in the northeast? They’re suffering from something called white-nose fungus, a scourge that has killed more than a million bats since it was first noticed in upstate New York in 2006. The sugary looking smudges of fungus that accumulate on bats' noses and wings seems to thrive in cold, damp hibernation caves. It disturbs the bats’ hibernation sleep, waking them up and sending them out, confused and disoriented, into frigid temperatures. This dangerously depletes their stores of fat and they frequently die of starvation. The fast-spreading disease has already been detected in nine states, and biologists fear it could wipe out certain bat species entirely. Because bats can consume their own weight in insects in a single day, their decimation could have serious consequences. A rise in the number of agricultural pests could mean that farmers will react with more pesticides, which would find their way into the water table.
Read More...

Just managed to push the door open and pop outside to document this incredible snowfall. As you can see, huge branches have come down from the weight of the snow which has been accumulating since early this morning. It's already past my knees! I have never stepped into such deep snow. What a feeling of sinking—sort of scary but thrilling!

I think I have to go outside and properly clear the doorway so I don't get snowed in. I've already brought in a load of firewood in case the power goes out again. What a week for G to be away! I am butch-pilgrim-chick! Frontier woman! Too bad cooking for one is such a lonely enterprise because this is chicken-&-dumplings weather! Maybe I'll treat myself to some pasta...

I brought this lavender and rosemary back from LA with me, stuffed into a plastic bag in my suitcase. It seems like they are growing everywhere there. Such a treat when the only living thing in our garden here is the hardy winter rye we planted to help restore our vegetable beds. For the past few days, I've been able to reach out and pinch these lovely sprigs, releasing their sharp-sweet fragrance onto my fingertips. (The smell of lavender has been proven to reduce stress.) Don't you just love having flowers in the house? Their beauty goes through so many phases, even when at last they droop and give up their petals. I especially like it when they come from the fields or my own garden. I'm dreaming even now of those two weeks in June when I'll have all the peonies I can handle. Check out these beauties from last year...
Read More...

I was lucky enough to be featured on a really wonderful website/blog that I have mentioned before and of which I am truly enjoying being a part: food52. I'm so thrilled to be singled out by Amanda Hesser and Merrill Stubbs, two cooks and writers whose recipes and career trajectories I admire greatly. The spotlight has brought some new visitors to gluttonforlife, some of them bloggers as well, and I want to welcome one and all. So thanks again for your support and kind words. They mean the world to me.
Read More...

On my way out to snowshoe this afternoon, I came across this poor mourning dove at the bottom of our drive. Her head was nowhere in sight. Yet another mystery of nature I cannot solve. As you can see, she had just dined on some of our delicious birdseed. I hope this isn't too gory for you. (If it is, you may not want to read on.) At 35 degrees, it seemed almost balmy outside today! Within minutes of commencing my 90-minute trek, I had to shed my hat and gloves and tie my jacket around my waist. Despite all my good intentions, this was my first exercise in a week. There were those 3 days in the city, and a few days where it was barely 13 degrees but, still, I'm a weak woman and one who needs to work off a large and indescribably delicious helping of soft-serve green tea ice cream from Mitsuwa. (Yes, we paid a visit to Edgewater, NJ, on our way back from the city and stocked up on all manner of wonderful Japanese ingredients, including fresh bamboo shoots, yam noodles, taro and chrysanthemum leaves.) So there I was, huffing and puffing along, thinking about how it had been months since I'd seen any evidence of the coyotes that used to "mark" the path when what should I come upon?
Read More...

If only G were not out of town, this is how we would have looked today. Instead, I forged out into the wilderness on my own, snowshoes strapped onto my boots, hood up and ski gloves on. The sun was like a 40-watt bulb, its pale yellow light barely cutting through the grey haze. The path was silent, the new snow muting my Yeti-like footfalls, and just one delicate waxwing flitting along beside me. I rounded a bend and there were three deer, noses to the ground. Another step toward them and they bounded away, their upturned tails like ivory plumes vanishing into the woods. (With the clarity that comes to me when I'm fasting, I realized that I will always have this place. When I'm old, I will return to it—in mind if not in body—and it will still afford me this sense of peace.) Back home, I had a steaming cup of mint-lemon balm tea, brewed from herbs dried from the garden this summer.
Read More...

For nearly half the year, there is no activity in the garden. Unless you count the relentless piling of discarded vegetable matter onto the compost heap. Given how intense things become once the springtime thaw arrives, this hiatus is actually something of a relief. As a novice gardener, I am always in terror of falling behind, forgetting to mulch or weed or water at the right time. I've given up planting new bulbs because somebody (squirrels? voles?) seems to get them before they can bloom, and the ones that do come up always seem disappointingly sparse. I'm sure this is somehow my fault but I prefer to focus on the where I've actually had luck (thus far mostly limited to peonies, cucumbers, rhubarb and irises). And while the whole undertaking lies dormant, I look forward to getting outside to enjoy other pursuits. Up here, starting about now, this tends to involve snow.
Read More...

[gallery]

photos by george billard

It's been two months since we closed the door on the Bowery loft and made the move up to our little 1935 cedar-shingle cottage in Sullivan County. I moved to New York City on June 6th, 1985, right after graduating from Harvard. I remember seeing Rubén Blades at the Village Gate that first night in town. It was quite a wild ride for nearly 25 years (with a 4-year hiatus in Los Angeles), but the time just felt right for something else. G and I had been spending increasingly more time upstate, and loving it. To date—and winter has not kicked in yet—I have no regrets. Living in nature is magical, inspiring, relaxing. I was working for Johnson & Johnson last year on the launch of a new product and came across some research that said just being in nature reduces stress. Your eye alights upon a wildflower or a monarch butterfly or a bald eagle—not on a homeless person or dog poop or a steaming manhole. Don't get me wrong, I love the city. It's just that this suits me fine right now. A couple of days ago, when our nature-loving friend Philip was visiting from the city, we went to check out the nearby Basha Kill. This beautiful wildlife preserve lies in the valley between the Shawagunks and the Catskills, once inhabited by Native Americans and then, in the 1700s, by European settlers.
Read More...

How jealous are you that we saw this amazing lynx while driving back from the city on the Palisades Parkway the other night?! (OK, maybe not this very one. It was dark and we were going 6o miles an hour, so stopping for a photo really wasn't on. But I swear, it looked just like this.) Suddenly, there it was—standing stock still at the edge of the road, illuminated by our headlights, a halo delineating the little tufts at the top of its ears. We were both gobsmacked for a moment and then turned to each other and said WTF was that?! As soon as we walked in the door, we googled it and it was immediately clear that we had seen a Canadian lynx. It is extremely rare to see them in this area but evidently there was some attempt to increase their population in these parts about 20 years ago. I can't really describe to you how beautiful it was: silvery, majestic, sleek. I will carry this vision with me forever.
Read More...