pickles

peach jam

the best antidote to winter.

exotic fruit

a sensible lunch

blueberry lemonade

first harvest

small radishes, from the yard: crisp and slightly spicy, toddler x greatly enjoyed plucking them from the ground.

crepes kind of morning

with nutella and whipped cream, o-la-la.

french toast kind of morning

a fourth birthday

a little something

meals for a snowy day

lunch for a tiny, tiny king

1 roasted potato, 1/2 of a baked apple with nutmeg and cinnamon, and a spinach omelet with parmesan cheese. 

the baron would like to know if someone would come to her house and cook for her like this, please.

tea for two

the other day the baron decided it was time for baby try some tea, good habits starting early and all that. 

as only half of baby x's tea went into his lap *and* he seemed to enjoy the bit of it that went into his mouth, the baron declared their adventure a success.  woot.

breakfast and some things to do today

it's another grim and dreary day where the baron lives.  

the baron's bastardized version of a cafe mocha is a good way to get the day started... especially since she has a long day in the kitchen ahead of her (see that to-do list below).*

*reader, this is baby x's menu for the next week or so. is it weird that baby x is eating like a king - a tiny, tiny king - while the baron eats protein bars and water with the occasional piece of whole wheat toast thrown in for good measure?  sigh.

the end of summer

the baron and the husband had a very successful summer, as far as the vegetables go. (fruit, reader, was significantly less successful: three strawberries, a handful of blueberries and blackberries, and lots of peach pits don't add up to much.) sadly, summer is coming to and end, and the vegetable plants in the garden are beginning to wither... last weekend, the husband took out the cucumber plants, and it seems that the watermelon (one fully mature fruit so far) is not far behind. though the tomatoes, hot peppers, green beans and okra are still quite healthy and productive, the baron is quickly losing interest in the garden. she cannot, for instance, fathom canning ANYTHING ELSE. which means... free tomatoes for everyone!

the garden in july

the garden, to which the baron alluded in her last post, is overwhelming her. really. she looks at the full-to-bursting bounty and feels dread. who knew that, with just a little water, those plants would take off so aggressively.?

the other night, the baron had two dreams: in the first, the baron, her mother, and one of her lesser cousins are at disneyland with harlan and chester, neither of whom are on leashes. at one point, they pass a reflecting pool (the likes of which the baron has never seen at the actual disneyland). chester walks out onto the pool, turns to look at the baron, then lays down for a nap. on top of the water. like jesus the cat. cut to: the baron, in her dream, wakes up in the morning. she knows it has rained, and she decides to go outside to check the garden. somehow, the garden has become the size of a field and the baron has only planted tomatoes. tidy rows and rows of tomatoes. AND THEY ARE ALL RIPE. every one is ready to be harvested. and processed for canning. and then baron woke up, a sweaty tangle of sheets and panic.

doesn't that sound like a bad trip followed by a stress dream?

in any case, see the cucumber (one of anxiety-inducing thousands) below, and the watermelon (one of a more manageable 6) too.

it seemed such a good idea

reader, as you may know, the baron and the husband are very, VERY keen gardeners. every year, they wait impatiently for the last frost to come and go so that they might get their newly sprouted seedlings into the ground.

early this past spring, the husband built three vegetable boxes in the sunniest spot in the yard. in previous years, they had had some success with vegetables, but the bounty was not nearly enough, so the baron thought, to justify the time, effort and expense.

so.

it turns out that gardening by box is a really good idea. a really, REALLY good one. so good, in fact, that the baron should not have erred on the side of caution by planting multiples of everything. and, reader, it's not as though she planted a few of each... she actually planted, for instance, 10 green bean plants, 18 tomato plants, 10 okras... you get the idea.

her worst idea by far turns out to be 16 cucumber plants, planted in rows of four, all of which are bearing cucumbers at an alarming rate. the baron thought that she'd try her hand at canning this year (she loves pickles), but reader, it's getting kind of ridiculous. she's spent the past two weekends a fixture in the kitchen, sterilizing jars and lids, mixing vinegar and water and pickling salt, trying to find a way to fit one. more. cucumber. slice. into a pint jar. it's been harrowing.

but.

she's still enjoying it. except.

after her last afternoon spent pickling, she now has a total of 16 pint jars and 3 quart jars of pickles; so, a lot of pickles. and there are still so very many flowers on the cucumber vines. AND the tomatoes (18 plants, remember?) have only just begun to ripen. sigh.

the sun will come out

today the baron is thinking of her second job - a college one - at a sandwich shop in her home town, conveniently located right across the street from her undergraduate institution. it was a super set-up for her: class in the morning, then over to the sandwich shop by noon to work four or 8 hours, then home. or, sandwich shop at 7am until noon, then over to class. (though, really, it was usually the first scenario; as the baron figured out quite quickly that the smell of onions had real staying power so she always aimed to work AFTER school.) and, by the way? home was a fast 7 minutes from campus AND work.

the baron spent over two years at this sandwich shop, having been shepherded in by her good friend xtina. it was a long two years: the job lost its lustre pretty quickly (having mostly to do with the owner and his special brand of douchebaggery, and NOT AT ALL having to do with the daily promise of free sandwiches, snapples, sodas, macaroni salad and cookies; also, yes, the baron gained weight while working there), but the baron and xtina did the best they could to keep themselves entertained.

earlier this week, the baron posted something about june gloom, and about how it's been raining in maryland for the past several weeks. this morning - for a change - it was actually quite sunny out. and. this made the baron VERY HAPPY.

so happy that, when she pulled back the bedroom draperies, her first thought was this scrap of lyric: "the sun will come out... pastrami!" sung, of course, to the tune of "the sun will come out tomorrow" from 'annie'.

in the name of entertainment, the baron and xtina used to sing this song at the sandwich shop; they would substitute the word 'pastrami' for 'tomorrow' and you know what, reader? the baron now thinks that their creative edits IMPROVED the song. and what else? they might actually have sung this song TO PASTRAMIS, either whole hunks of meat or sanwiches.

anyway.

happy friday, reader.

from the yard in may

reader, you may remember - from about this time last year - that the baron and the husband are big BIG fans of working and playing in the garden. in previous years, they pulled out vegetable garden seeds and flats, to start seedlings inside well before the last frost date. this year, however, they were late seemed to make a tacit agreement NOT to do things that way. instead, around the last week of april, after the husband and built three very sturdy vegetable boxes, they direct sowed their vegetable seeds into the soil. below, the cucumber is making its way - so slowly - toward a chicken wire support structure.


besides the cucumber (of which they planted two varieties), the baron and the husband also planted: tomatoes (garden peach, cherry, black krim, pineapple, and mr. stripey (reader, how could the baron pass up a tomato called MR. STRIPEY!?!)); artichokes; asparagus; beans; watermelon; brussels sprouts; okra; two varieties of lettuce; mustard greens; and edamame. if everything goes to plan (though, really, how often does that happen?), the baron and the husband will be rich will the fruits (and vegetables) of their labors.

the baron's favorite type of plants are the ones that do something for her; her feeling is that - after putting time and work and water into something - there should be some kind of reward. in this way, the vegetable garden suits her well.

however.

there are some things in her yard that are even better. they are the fruit bearing plants that REQUIRE ALMOST NO WORK on the part of the baron.

for instance:

these blueberries - the baron has 6 plants of three different varieties - require nothing from her but mulch in the fall and water in the spring. and you know what, reader? if it rains, she doesn't even bother to water them.



also, here is a three year old blackberry bush, limbs heavy with fruit. and, it requires nothing of her. so far, the squirrels have not yet discovered it...


the dwarf peach tree, also very low maintenance. this year, the third that the tree has been in the ground, the baron and the husband decided to protect is from the yard's wildlife with netting. so far, no peaches have been ceded to squirrels.


a strawberry plant, in a strawberry pot, that miraculously survived winter and came back this spring. so far, it seems to require nothing but water and has so far yielded 3 tiny red berries... and below, it looks like 3 more will soon be ready for harvest!

no one wields a pair of garden clippers like the husband.

china from japan

reader, a few of you (the facebook ones) may know that the husband spent some time in japan when he was very, very young. while there, the husband's mother purchased this set of china, selected because it nicely matched the furniture in their on-base home.

since then, the husband's family has moved many times, and his siblings? they've moved even more. the husband's mother, an equitable soul if ever there was one, saved these dishes, making a mental note of this one more thing to be distributed to her children (of which there are 6, did the baron mention?). one of the husband's siblings received the family silverware, a sister received yet another set of china... and on and on.


it just so happens, it luckily happens, that the baron loves these dishes. they're pretty and a little '70s cheesy (which the baron is choosing to recognize as whimsy).


the set was originally service for 12 ('FOR 12!!' said the baron, before realizing that - with 8 proper family members - 12 settings were needed for company) and - sadly - not all have made it. what remains are 9 dinner plates, 11 saucers for 8 coffee cups (above), a footed gravy boat, a swerving dish (below), two serving platters (a larger and a smaller one), 10 soup bowls, and 9 bread and butter plates (the baron felt very fancy, counting her new bread and butter plates), a creamer, and a sugar bowl (first photo). on the whole, the set is in remarkably good shape - having survived the trip from japan to all over america, and the hands of 6 children to boot.

when they were first married, and their friends and family came to celebrate, the baron and the husband remained adamantly unregistered and requested no gifts. they might even have said, 'china? pshaw!!' but this? these dishes? the baron, usually hard-hearted and unsentimental, is actually quite touched to have a piece of the husband's youth brought, intact, into their lives. new traditions and all that.