Oops

I've moved. I was so focused on creating this blog and thinking of interesting things to say that I never noticed the misspelling when I named it late that first night. I'm too OCD to tolerate that - so I'm off to Greenpeccadilloes.blogspot.com

Thank you KFC

I heard about KFC's new sandwich, aka heart attack wrapped in paper, on Marketplace the other night and I couldn't bring myself to picture what a bacon sandwich with fried chicken where the bun should be would even look like. Thanks to one of my favorite local food bloggers, Steve Barnes at the Times Union, I didn't have to imagine anymore. I was also reminded that the item is not called heart attack wrapped in paper, but rather the "double down."

I've had a hard time cooking lately. Just not feeling it - partially because my boyfriend was out of town and I suddenly lived like a college student again and considered chips and salsa a perfectly appropriate meal (twice) and it's be

en busy and it's just easier to go to my local haunt for fried risotto balls and beer. But just the sight of the "double down" sent me running to my kitchen, nearly screaming for vegetables. In the midst of picking up for company, I was able to

grab whatever veggies I had lying around (broccoli, carrots and squash), some onion, garlic

and fresh ginger and give it all a quick saute. A bit of soy and orange zest mixed for a nice sauce. I tossed it all with udon, finished with black sesame seed and in no time eased the KFC-induced panic attack. I have to say, I think this was my most successful endeavor into asian flavors yet.

A productive day

I'm not sure how I'm even typing at this point. My hands are sore and blistered and my body is aching for bed but I'm enjoying the sense of accomplishment and anticipating my productive garden more than ever. I managed to construct my raised bed without incident, although I'll admit it took me longer than it should have to think to grab the drill in the basement. I also got a nice spot set up with a trellace for peas or beans, cleaned out and prepped the space for my herb garden and planted the beginnings of a strawberry patch. I did manage to get some general landscaping done as well, planted pansies and such, but that's really so I stop feeling guilty for having the crappy yard in the neighborhood, I'm mostly just excited about my veggies and berries. I'm re-inspired to cook. I'm nearly giddy about the buds on my blueberry bushes (we didn't notice them when we put an offer in on our house, but we also didn't notice two boarded up windows - long story- so I suppose it's a reasonable oversight. After closing in July I stumbled on three incredibly productive bushes and literally jumped up and down while clapping. I think my neighbors think I'm a bit nuts)

I even built a more organized spot for my compost pile, after flatly refusing to pay fifty bucks for a big, ugly, flimsy piece of plastic at one box store or another. I'll spare you the picture of my rotting vegetables. It was all hard work, I swear...

.

Bitter Puppy?

An update on my attempts to break Bozeman from his bad habit of chewing his leash - the hot sauce (despite my guilt pangs) was a failure as it appears my dog handles spice better than I do. This week I tried bitter apple. He made a face like "seriously lady, you've gotta do better than that," grimaced through the taste and continued to chew on his leash. I wanted to be frustrated but I suddenly flashed back to trying that awful-tasting Sally Hansen stuff you use to quit nailbiting...I was about 13 and instead of giving up the pathological chewing I would suck on my finger until the bad taste was gone and go to town. I'm mildly mortified that my dog and I handle our bad habits in a similar way. He doesn't know better, but it's not saying much for me.

Taking initiative

A big step in growing one's own food is having a place to put the plants in the ground. Easier said than done in our yard, which is shady thanks to our giant Linden tree (I only just learned what it was this week when my neighbors asked if we minded their giving it a trim) and full of good ole Albany clay. Shade and clay work nicely for our hectic schedules - we have lots of moss and clover, which really doesn't need all that mowing - but is not ideal for my urban agricultural ambitions. Enter the raised garden bed.

I've been nagging my boyfriend to build me a bed since the fall, so I could "work on the soil." I have no idea what that really means, but I thought I should do it anyway. We have a friend who is an expert gardener and suggested growing legumes and then setting it on fire. Somehow I feel I'm a bit accident-prone for that. Anyway, my backyard is still sans raised garden bed and my seedlings are actually still alive. So tomorrow, I take things into my own hands - the lumber is in the back of my car as we speak. It's been a long time since woodshop but I'm pretty sure I can handle a simple square frame. If not, I've got bigger problems...

We are trying very hard to cut down on eating out. It gets expensive and most of the time we can whip up a great meal that tastes better for a fraction of the cost. We both love to cook but don't quite feel the same way about cleaning up after. And we're bad planners. So when we roll into the house at 7pm and haven't thought about dinner, it's just so easy to get back in the car and go out.

I'm irritated at myself tonight that my sloth and exhaustion got the best of me. Granted, it's been a long week, but I have a whole bunch of fresh basil (cheap at the local asian market!), canned tomatoes and other mixings for a great, simple pasta, risotto or something along those lines. Instead we went out to a local mexican place, dropped fifty bucks on a couple of margaritas and some mediocre food. Tequila was worth it, the pound and a half of cheese in my chiles poblanos, not so much. One of my favorite things about our farm share is it typically guilts me into cooking. The Irish Catholic genes are good for many things, and guilt is high on the list. I look at a big box of veggies that will go bad if not used and I force myself to cook. Or I force my boyfriend to cook. Either way, we're usually happier with our meal, know where it came from, and we save a bunch of cash. I can't wait for June and our first delivery.

Spicy Puppy

My pup has a bad habit of chewing on his leash while we're walking. We use one of those retractor leashes, so I'd been concerned that it would fray and have been meaning to buy bitter apple or something to stop him from chewing. Of course I didn't get to it and the leash snapped over the weekend. Thankfully we were at my Dad's and he was safe.

So I decided that we are breaking this habit, pronto. Still haven't had a chance to get to the store for bitter apple, but a handy dandy internet search suggested a bit of hot sauce on the leash. Feeling guilty and mean, I set out for a "it's in your own best interest" intervention with the pup. I shook some hot sauce into a napkin and dragged it over the leash, filled up a big bowl of water and headed outside with him for some behavior modification.

My dog likes hot sauce. He licked the leash, gave me a "hmmmm, this is interesting" face and continued to suck away. Me - 0, pup - 1. Time for round two.