Catch up Post: From Salmon to Pot-Pie

Posted on August 27, 2011

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It’s been a busy summer in the cooking and traveling and cooking-while-traveling departments.

Seattle Salmon

This means that I’m finally now thinking about what needs to be documented (and much of the experience can never be captured here—scones coming out of the oven on a misty Seattle morning, to waiting fingers, homemade (Claire) jam, and accompanied with fresh Peets coffee. And salmon fresh off the grill with basil, thyme, pine-nuts and garlic–another Seattle treat. The list really goes on.

Shower foods

Obviously in CT we make peach crisp, with farm stand peaches, and this time we also got to do some camping out food experiences; aka-quick, drink all sorts of really good wine and beer because it “may not last” (or we may not last), and roast lamb crusted hotdogs over an open fire, served with a salad of garden tomatoes, avocados, and argula.

Wilson jam and scones overlooking the lake

I think my favorite part about culinary “roughin’ it”–and man, we did a great job of keeping ourselves fed while the winds howled–was using a mortar and pestle to grind exquisite fairway coffee. So fun. Life without coffee would be nasty poor brutish and short. So come hurricane or highwater, I’m going to find a way to get those beans crushed!

pestle and mortar coffee

Washington vines

But I do want to put down a few of the more important recipes I’ve tried.  After all, this is my trial and error, my documentation-of-attempts spot.

And I’m almost “over” summer foods and ready for fall comfort dishes–hence I whipped up a chicken pot pie last friday, with CSA carrots and garlic (hence it became known as garlic pot pie because, who knew, farm fresh garlic is potent in a way we were not prepared for).

The labor pie

 

The chicken pot pie was symbolic too. It was the food that I cooked when I was in “pretend labor” as we like to call it, exactly one year ago, waiting for my little peanut to show herself. As I put her name on the pie once more, and fed it to her myself with conversations surrounding “hot” and “pie” and “Remember, I made this last year and ate it all right after coming home from the hospital” (Me to my husband), and “hot” again to lil miss, I just smiled to myself because food is a beautiful expression of who we are, what we care about, and we build layers and layers of memories around special foods, special meals, and singular culinary experiments.

 

lemon bars-cough-out of a box

St Ema wine

Oops. Yummy.

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