The year 2017 is upon us! I'm a January baby, so this month always feels like a fresh start. I'll be turning 54 in a couple of weeks; well past the halfway mark, which is a bit startling somehow. I think about death a lot—have done ever since my father died when I was 26 (he was 64), and then my husband died when I was 40 (he was 41) and my mother died that same year (she was 76). For me, a big part of living is preparing to die and I don't feel this is morbid or maudlin. I want to die in peace and without regrets and this means striving to live in a state of grace. For those of you who haven't yet made it to this age and are curious about what lies ahead, here is what I can report: I have plenty of energy, dreams and plans. The world continues to be full of surprises and challenges. I am never bored. Slowing down is something I do to improve the quality of my life. There is always something new to learn, including about myself. The longer I live, the more I turn to nature for guidance, nourishment and wisdom. Any time I can be outside or interacting with plants is a source of joy for me and making bitters is an extension of that. 

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Use it up. Wear it out. Make it do. Do without.Eleanor Roosevelt said that, probably during the Depression or some wartime crunch. But I love its sentiment: the idea that what we have is enough. "Making do" is not really something you see advertised alongside Big Gulps and $35,000 handbags. Last weekend in the Times' opinion section, I saw this piece about a divorced Brooklyn mother of two who fell on hard times and resorted to starting a victory garden and baking her own bread to get by. (A former Bergdorf Goodman shopper and unwilling to give up perfume, she now makes her own from fragrant herbs!) It was very inspiring, and it gave me serious pause when I went to write "mint tea" on the grocery list that's posted on the door of our fridge. Instead, I went out to the garden and harvested huge armfuls of fresh mint. I had cut the unruly plants back a month ago—and frozen and preserved some leaves then—but they had grown in more vigorously than ever. While I was out there, I also snipped lots of other things to dry and use over the coming winter months.
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Salsa verde has more than one guise. In Italy it is a cold rustic sauce vaguely resembling a pesto of sorts but very light, fresh and tangy. Generally it features parsley, capers, onion, garlic, anchovies, vinegar, olive oil and lemon, but may also contain a bit of crumbled white bread, pickles, mustard and other green herbs. It's an opportunity for you to experiment a bit and make it as you like. This is most definitely not the salsa verde you would find in a Mexican restaurant. That one contains tomatillos and chiles and is a whole other conversation; or post, as the case may be. Nor is it quite the same as Argentina's famed chimichurri, which is missing the umami wallop of anchovy. Incidentally, if you still think you don't like anchovies and you leave them out of this sauce, you will be depriving yourself of a great taste sensation. I understand how you might be turned off by the little oily fillets with their hairy-looking bones and fishy aroma, but once they become part of something else—a Caesar dressing, say, or this sauce—they lose their identity and simply impart a rich depth of flavor that is like nothing else. Not to mention they're really good for you. So, salsa verde: the perfect summer sauce to slather on everything grilled, from fish and shrimp to chicken and steak. My other favorite way to eat it? As a dip for garden-fresh raw or lightly blanched vegetables.
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Still no camera (I'll retrieve it when I go into the city tomorrow), but G is clamoring from Southeast Asia for evidence of incipient spring in our garden so the iphone will have to do. (I'm actually impressed with the quality.)It's been nothing but rain rain rain for the last several days, though things have cleared up somewhat now and the bugs have already begun their relentless onslaught. Lots of new life is unfurling. Today I will venture into the woods on my first foraging expedition of the season. I'm obsessed with finding ramps, morels, nettles and fiddleheads. Last year I had no luck, nor have I been able to find a mentor in the area. All I need is a little nudge in the right direction. Meanwhile, in my own backyard, many things are cropping up. In the damp, shady bed beneath our bedroom window, the lemon balm you see above (also known as melissa) is off to a good start. This wonderfully fragrant member of the mint family will be pressed into service all summer long for tea, to flavor panna cotta and in poultices for soothing bites and scratches.
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Back from a restful week in Antigua—sadly without G, who is currently climbing palm trees in the Philippines. I went solo to a wonderful Easter lunch at Stephanie's yesterday. Took lots of photos of the beautiful table and the delicious pork roulade, and then promptly forgot my camera! But I'm sharing it with you nonetheless, recipe and photos courtesy of Saveur. This was perhaps the best pork loin I've ever eaten, juicy and flavorful, perfumed with herbs and sauced with a savory onion jus. The pork came from Fleischer's, a fantastic upstate resource for organic and grass-fed meat. Also on the menu: frisée salad with preserved lemon and asparagus tips; pea soup with tarragon; mashed potatoes; roasted carrots; baked Alaska. On a lark, I made some carrot marshmallows with honey, cumin and chile salt. More about those, and photos, later this week.
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Fall is encroaching on our garden. Though we'll still be getting kale, chard, broccoli and collards for weeks to come (inshallah), the basil suddenly turned punky and the last tomatoes are hanging heavy on the vine. It was a banner year here in Eldred, and G's photos tell the story...

Another week gone by and, I'm pleased to say, another two of my recipes singled out by the editors of Food52. I still haven't actually won any of their contests, but lots of honorable mentions do add up. This time it was my Scarborough Fair Chicken and my Golden Rösti (made from yellow beets). I'll share the former with you first. My dear friend Marilee was recently asking me for a good roast chicken recipe, and I think this one is deliciously reliable. The name, of course, refers to the old English ditty and the herbs mentioned therein: parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Add some butter, lemons and shallots, and you're in serious business. The chicken you use really matters—and here I'm going to flog the organic argument once again. Despite the American propensity for enormous breasts, they're just not worth keeping our chickens in captivity in order to force-feed them the required diet of (subsidized) corn. Go for a nice free-range roaster and you'll enjoy better flavor and a freer conscience.
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As in, cold enough to freeze the balls off 'em. Love that British expression. Somehow a bit classier than the old witch's teat reference, still hanging on from the days of the Salem trials. My point being: it was damn cold today. We were out snow-shoeing in 13 degrees. I have a deep dread of slipping on the ice, but those metal teeth really do grip into even the slickest surfaces. Realized that the large and interesting tracks we had seen the other day and were sure were from a bear turned out to be our own. How embarrassing. Now I'm finally convinced that the bears are hibernating and so I can stop imagining Werner Herzog-worthy scenarios where one chases me into a snowdrift and mauls G who has run to my defense. Tromping on crusted snow, I could almost see the North Wind puffing out his cheeks and blowing an icy blast our way. It sent the delicate top layer of powder gusting through the air, like a frigid version of the apocalyptic ash that's always drifting down in Cormack McCarthy's brilliant The Road. (Read the book; skip the movie. Sorry, Viggo.)
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My friend Bryan Thomson—a supremely gifted hair colorist AND an herbalist extraordinaire—has inspired me to delve deeper into the world of natural medicine. I began using this book about 10 years ago during an extremely stressful time of my life when my skin was bad and my hair was falling out, and I soon found myself making yellow dock poultices and steaming my face with dried strawberry leaves. Did it work? The short answer is "Yes." But, more to the point, I discovered a new way to approach my own health; one that let me be more in charge and that led to a deeper understanding of how to treat stress and other physical ailments with herbs and nutrition. This is not to say that I won't take a pill. But I like to avoid that and will first try many a remedy of my own devising, based on the ancient wisdom derived from nature. This tonic is a great example.
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I feel a soapbox moment coming on again. Sorry. But I just can't remain silent when it comes to soda because IT'S THE DEVIL. Why would you want to drink anything that falls under the category of "soft" drinks, anyway? Gross. Did you know that soda is not only worthless to your body, it actually causes actual harm?! I'm sure you've heard by now that soda consumption is linked to type 2 diabetes and obesity. The sugar it contains combines with bacteria in the mouth to form acid, and even the diet version contains carbolic acid—this means weakened enamel and more cavities! The phosphorous and caffeine contribute to osteoporosis. And I just read that soda consumption may be linked to chronic kidney disease, development of metabolic syndrome (a heart risk) and fatty liver, a chronic liver disease. YUCK! SPIT IT OUT! AND DON'T LET YOUR KIDS NEAR IT!
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