tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-86031078294730436542024-03-18T17:04:45.031-04:0066 Square Feet (Plus)One woman, 12 seasons, and an appetite for plantsMariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.comBlogger4537125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-4639949654050350792023-12-07T13:45:00.006-05:002023-12-07T13:49:59.887-05:00What and How to Eat Now<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dJLdk66kT0uwCLUcdJDAqcKaET1z2YEzchH1fikuCr4wkwTDtGkPhTtZsZPP75ukLhm375fzTxtc6kx88UHzz_R09dVNwF8nBmLlzy8-B5i-p0vIFXDNC7Z1GHjWJU8Aij6C7gFv_cvC_wX1LpL2kC8fKhrgTo4jSdlyvGsS15Z1yKvqFQWCkL_E7oVr/s1800/Forest-Toddy_hot_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7dJLdk66kT0uwCLUcdJDAqcKaET1z2YEzchH1fikuCr4wkwTDtGkPhTtZsZPP75ukLhm375fzTxtc6kx88UHzz_R09dVNwF8nBmLlzy8-B5i-p0vIFXDNC7Z1GHjWJU8Aij6C7gFv_cvC_wX1LpL2kC8fKhrgTo4jSdlyvGsS15Z1yKvqFQWCkL_E7oVr/w426-h640/Forest-Toddy_hot_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Hot toddy no alcohol, Marie Viljoen" width="426" /></a></div><p>Here's a quick round-up of some seasonally appealing <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/author/marie-viljoen/">Gardenista</a> pieces I have written. Follow the links to read: </p><p>First up, Forest Toddies. On the cold-weather walks I lead, I sometimes make a hot toddy to warm frigid fingers. (It stays steaming in Thermos flasks.) It's alcohol-free but manages to taste grown up and complex. Everyone asks how it is made. My current hot toddy recipe is based on fresh apple cider, with the addition of citrus and herbs, a whisper of fir, and sometimes even a beneficial mushroom. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAwyq320vmofLrbu7zrava1DYMGDJKGf8VLgf71DSG35y08RpS3fIMOjY1g7vdlfqc0G3rEiEJ5p0VJjgAGu1LTZV8aQAI2EOuBCgwIAJIH1O-xNH7k_SghCKnudsd8K1OP7aqpjaRrvzSZkB9o_qG8mtaLFNKgDbFpnLFGYD5Cj0gwA6Pc5p1NPKA3C7/s1800/Forest_toddy_virgin_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHAwyq320vmofLrbu7zrava1DYMGDJKGf8VLgf71DSG35y08RpS3fIMOjY1g7vdlfqc0G3rEiEJ5p0VJjgAGu1LTZV8aQAI2EOuBCgwIAJIH1O-xNH7k_SghCKnudsd8K1OP7aqpjaRrvzSZkB9o_qG8mtaLFNKgDbFpnLFGYD5Cj0gwA6Pc5p1NPKA3C7/w426-h640/Forest_toddy_virgin_marie-viljoen.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p>When I've made the toddy and allowed all the flavors to infuse, it is strained and bottled, to live in the fridge. For the last month the Frenchman and I have been sipping a version of it (it welcomes improvisation) every evening, to see what life is like without a 6pm cocktail (no surprise, life goes on, without a hitch, but it's a useful experiment). But you can also drink it cold, shaken up with the hooch of your choice. I recommend bourbon. Good for parties.</p><p>Here is the <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/virgin-hot-toddy-recipe/">Virgin Hot Toddy recipe.</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSbBvwz-6_xFm1IXnUOctgzYs-FuZ0Ph3n7kfwe6wWUxitp5hdnUN6RHVpDi3uIiWCKMJSVx52HOe6UX3nj_jy918EzReQCJS1EnOOpTO6Z-wbasY04__sYWnSxdR-tJlE1t3hQDXAZcOygqXZuTsjxgUEqRa-OHVQpk6ie1wHAGl3OC85XQR-Ufs8uuK/s1824/Yuzu_seeds_marire-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1824" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbSbBvwz-6_xFm1IXnUOctgzYs-FuZ0Ph3n7kfwe6wWUxitp5hdnUN6RHVpDi3uIiWCKMJSVx52HOe6UX3nj_jy918EzReQCJS1EnOOpTO6Z-wbasY04__sYWnSxdR-tJlE1t3hQDXAZcOygqXZuTsjxgUEqRa-OHVQpk6ie1wHAGl3OC85XQR-Ufs8uuK/w422-h640/Yuzu_seeds_marire-viljoen.jpg" title="Yuzu, Marie Viljoen" width="422" /></a></div><p>It's yuzu season, and the aromatic, golden citrus are a highlight of my growing and eating year. Our own little tree had it's first proper crop this year (last year it produced three, I think), and it still has some plump fruit ripening on its branches. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhtqiZdaqg2LOMzDbMWxlbEUvCNKy6eQRP_68A_Tez-Ut98IxQ0uBT2w90nQi-8lJx_UtxexXX1PYQjUh8uqPb3_CcpAsz5vbphTWXh6TnU0c4E6zIjtI_VaraPitomjPdmk-21kFhZORiuVXJew9iNDaOb-ykdHoBsR43RHDHEPS40g1Js8xJZBy2zNn/s1600/Yuzu_yubeshi_outdoors_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfhtqiZdaqg2LOMzDbMWxlbEUvCNKy6eQRP_68A_Tez-Ut98IxQ0uBT2w90nQi-8lJx_UtxexXX1PYQjUh8uqPb3_CcpAsz5vbphTWXh6TnU0c4E6zIjtI_VaraPitomjPdmk-21kFhZORiuVXJew9iNDaOb-ykdHoBsR43RHDHEPS40g1Js8xJZBy2zNn/w480-h640/Yuzu_yubeshi_outdoors_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Yubeshi, Marie Viljoen" width="480" /></a></div><p>Yuzu are the essential ingredient for <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/yuzu-season-make-yubeshi/">yubeshi</a>, a cured, savory-sweet Japanese confection, intended to be sliced and nibbled with hot black tea. </p><p>You can buy high-quality yuzu fruit online (they make a special gift) in the US from <i><a href="https://www.flavorsbybhumi.com/shop-1">Flavors by Bhumi</a>,</i> New Jersey-based growers who also source unusual citrus fruit from other growers in the country. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_9_fM_jtAqjdWUs-PVLSj1PrVUqLzGMQ7xeZzWp8fPdiUikt_QyJiswA5cgK9g3QVExV9RUpE6SHaPI6bsIV2CyqRKZEkvUl55dAwQWT2Zj5xrqW6TKjY8OQWPxCyIB7XVz2Cm-HdzWXk3UBW3g4p8MxVjkXdGHGNpT_IR9F1-Z12vMbK0Qu-v_HRwae/s1704/Rosehips_fermented_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1704" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_9_fM_jtAqjdWUs-PVLSj1PrVUqLzGMQ7xeZzWp8fPdiUikt_QyJiswA5cgK9g3QVExV9RUpE6SHaPI6bsIV2CyqRKZEkvUl55dAwQWT2Zj5xrqW6TKjY8OQWPxCyIB7XVz2Cm-HdzWXk3UBW3g4p8MxVjkXdGHGNpT_IR9F1-Z12vMbK0Qu-v_HRwae/w450-h640/Rosehips_fermented_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Rosehips for syrup, Marie Viljoen" width="450" /></a></div><p>Are there still rosehips, where you live? They tend to become sweeter with cold. But sweet or astringent, here is my recipe for <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/rosehips-ripe-simple-syrup/">rosehip syrup</a>. No boiling at all, just sugar, fruit, and time. The leftover hips make a very appealing candy-like snack, if they are large enough for the seeds to be scooped out easily.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgtP1eXA2pggz2O9VbalqjyFxmyWm3Ed41hKTdP-hdFAsFsdSjrNNnOSakQvHTpVg_Z5m450u7waQhcdgpwElvgVrNTmPjNQrhxorK2JlpiNJe8g-gfV2awpD1BXmBk8sDbD3_gWQlO3mZTpOeNS3QOdDMIUcDCz6xA2c4g3NXE-ArqAsFZZuu3Qk3n2y/s1750/Hardy_orange_seeds_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1750" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUgtP1eXA2pggz2O9VbalqjyFxmyWm3Ed41hKTdP-hdFAsFsdSjrNNnOSakQvHTpVg_Z5m450u7waQhcdgpwElvgVrNTmPjNQrhxorK2JlpiNJe8g-gfV2awpD1BXmBk8sDbD3_gWQlO3mZTpOeNS3QOdDMIUcDCz6xA2c4g3NXE-ArqAsFZZuu3Qk3n2y/w438-h640/Hardy_orange_seeds_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Hardy orange trifoliate orange, Marie Viljoen" width="438" /></a></div><p>What is the hardiest of citrus fruits? Clue: It is also the thorniest. Trifoliate orange, also called <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/hardy-orange-cold-climate-citrus/">hardy orange</a>, and more lemon than orange (very sour), and more yuzu than either (its skin is very fragrant). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxORwiWo1ZyztgRATQ-J739bgwxK6LrVWvxBIargZ5YTo_jcFXXY3P-HoN-o1jaPYSJQKBvZWou6MNHswlhX8paRaEDhzQnt3rYf7mXzpxVUdJzdklJJuH8vR03Hvg2IIkyFj7uO9hb3aGlpJu-YUT0C7370Qw07DA1ySJmjCOEPNL6H_o2AC8jRGY3QN/s1800/Hardy_orange_cheong_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZxORwiWo1ZyztgRATQ-J739bgwxK6LrVWvxBIargZ5YTo_jcFXXY3P-HoN-o1jaPYSJQKBvZWou6MNHswlhX8paRaEDhzQnt3rYf7mXzpxVUdJzdklJJuH8vR03Hvg2IIkyFj7uO9hb3aGlpJu-YUT0C7370Qw07DA1ySJmjCOEPNL6H_o2AC8jRGY3QN/w426-h640/Hardy_orange_cheong_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Hardy orange cheong, Marie Viljoen" width="426" /></a></div><p>It makes a very good fermented syrup or <i>cheong - </i>transliterated Korean for marmalade, except the marmalade is is not cooked, and is traditionally stirred into boiling water for a therapeutic tea. The best-known cheong may be made with yuzu, but I use hardy orange in exactly the same way. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_8VphrMLhFISMwefGEwU7bh_cIrxhv9faIHou95ybYoyIGI32oENDr8S_CP5rPnslzlk6W8PsGMxdrDeFA9bwrI7hlQ5fMWgnOxqu6DXQscz8dSICjQp9bbZILfVCGTSMGBQsFYOYhyphenhyphenYC2kHxa5z1Hi1jfktlm_oX3xxRINRm5fZ4keP3Z-eeaS3Ag1P/s1701/Juniper_festive_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1701" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9_8VphrMLhFISMwefGEwU7bh_cIrxhv9faIHou95ybYoyIGI32oENDr8S_CP5rPnslzlk6W8PsGMxdrDeFA9bwrI7hlQ5fMWgnOxqu6DXQscz8dSICjQp9bbZILfVCGTSMGBQsFYOYhyphenhyphenYC2kHxa5z1Hi1jfktlm_oX3xxRINRm5fZ4keP3Z-eeaS3Ag1P/w452-h640/Juniper_festive_marie-viljoen.jpg" width="452" /></a></div><p>Finally, dark afternoons, long nights, cold weather? We need bright colors and beneficial microbes to sustain us through winter. It's time to make <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/juniper-native-spice-tree-near/">fermented red cabbage</a> (aka sauerkraut) with fresh juniper (<i>Juniperus virginiana</i>, but yes, you can use store-bought). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILHG-0qu0314vf0vBFA0-hbdwrhZQ4tVOAaj5dv1XooRn0Dqx9KeYYjWd_dH_zdtI1Lqa_pjXqofabzi37OuAQoM76jTpaplLWrxMQtAANrdUe1jIoyFigu3A4kA3xmU4ZPhMvJ7pf8y8ewVy7ooU4p25Fhq_Mq87k14JLYKNqZjiRJO_eLNPsMY7nAUU/s1800/Sauerkraut%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjILHG-0qu0314vf0vBFA0-hbdwrhZQ4tVOAaj5dv1XooRn0Dqx9KeYYjWd_dH_zdtI1Lqa_pjXqofabzi37OuAQoM76jTpaplLWrxMQtAANrdUe1jIoyFigu3A4kA3xmU4ZPhMvJ7pf8y8ewVy7ooU4p25Fhq_Mq87k14JLYKNqZjiRJO_eLNPsMY7nAUU/w426-h640/Sauerkraut%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p>The tangy kraut is good to eat as soon as five or six days (above) after the process has begun, and is then still very crunchy. I like it best around the three-week mark, by which time it has moved to the fridge...</p><p>Happy reading, and bon appétit! </p><p style="text-align: center;">______________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Find me daily on Instagram</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/">@marie_viljoen</a></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-53457322291606247642023-10-21T10:54:00.006-04:002023-10-21T10:55:11.699-04:00The sill<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfs0Zr5GgrenQhk0ENMwJHx7PdPjU6hsQMlvRkN2bNt7T1n0CdJVKPw8oyyChW9NG6_hsY4KGxKGGn23QGtmKwzdp8Ry7qoZsw4rTmrXvw4bFNjJBdDOiU__V8YbbHp5SZVwR3qHNVb6qm8MzbsOFAVRPYGXr8oR4Y6to9eoWBiJSmAWHJDHiIFf1rwhC/s1702/autumn%20olives,%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1702" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpfs0Zr5GgrenQhk0ENMwJHx7PdPjU6hsQMlvRkN2bNt7T1n0CdJVKPw8oyyChW9NG6_hsY4KGxKGGn23QGtmKwzdp8Ry7qoZsw4rTmrXvw4bFNjJBdDOiU__V8YbbHp5SZVwR3qHNVb6qm8MzbsOFAVRPYGXr8oR4Y6to9eoWBiJSmAWHJDHiIFf1rwhC/w452-h640/autumn%20olives,%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" title="Autumn olives, Marie Viljoen" width="452" /></a></div><p></p><p>Austere, like the flavor of autumn olives. Clear, tart, enough sweetness to keep your attention. But definitely autumn.</p><p style="text-align: center;">_____________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">daily posts at Instagram</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/">@marie_viljoen</a></span></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-67787575647928621642023-10-11T12:42:00.003-04:002023-10-11T12:42:19.501-04:00Picnic like you mean it<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMumA-drENKdrCXXHvkFNX5K7TJoAaHgBSoZ9VDGiM_nnT7da8zN6URWDBdsSEFqHcwRYJNEOLsuh3CRpmh3Sht_mqWbpc7DvYsfy2RgPJdajKOlonVAxLwVEjkqMomAoOp1ZSwzk3-dW8J7frvN8yiN9o7PAo9SnZYN36ANCAGUGWwZI0GaPjH1TXxpM1/s1200/HARRIMAN%20POINT,%20MARIE%20VILJOEN.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMumA-drENKdrCXXHvkFNX5K7TJoAaHgBSoZ9VDGiM_nnT7da8zN6URWDBdsSEFqHcwRYJNEOLsuh3CRpmh3Sht_mqWbpc7DvYsfy2RgPJdajKOlonVAxLwVEjkqMomAoOp1ZSwzk3-dW8J7frvN8yiN9o7PAo9SnZYN36ANCAGUGWwZI0GaPjH1TXxpM1/w640-h480/HARRIMAN%20POINT,%20MARIE%20VILJOEN.jpg" title="Harriman Point and high tide, by Marie Viljoen" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><p>The water comes up, and then it goes down, and then it does it again. This is high tide, and we perched on the edge to picnic. But at low tide we have walked across the shell-crunching wet sand to that island with the trees, to picnic, there. Once, we watched a mink swim across the water to explore the rocks. There are sometimes seals, poking their faces up to look like whiskery buoys tethered on the water. And almost always we see a loon, patrolling offshore.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPFH1_T-dZonaUxqzWuwnh0-yRcLBlVL8Tw8BXqLt24Jjp4yDHz5nZShvX0-XBuAZCsK0g4qKd2XAW5EkppvLArjJJCysLd1qefwt6GN5OId8lLXFwHrijF3GxGVznAqShur5FD2XstIVhdUUOG_PUhXY0Qp9v7-BTCvJEBuFox8-ekftUO8nyxYxNdYZ/s1600/Picnic%20like%20you%20mean%20it,%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUPFH1_T-dZonaUxqzWuwnh0-yRcLBlVL8Tw8BXqLt24Jjp4yDHz5nZShvX0-XBuAZCsK0g4qKd2XAW5EkppvLArjJJCysLd1qefwt6GN5OId8lLXFwHrijF3GxGVznAqShur5FD2XstIVhdUUOG_PUhXY0Qp9v7-BTCvJEBuFox8-ekftUO8nyxYxNdYZ/w480-h640/Picnic%20like%20you%20mean%20it,%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" title="Picnic like you mean it, by Marie Viljoen" width="480" /></a></div><p>I don't know when last we took wine on a picnic*. A <i>day</i> picnic. I carried it as a surprise for the Frenchman, who that morning had told me about a couple at the local co-op: They exited with a bottle of rosé. They took it back to their car, opened it, tossed some stale coffee out of a mug, and poured the wine into the mug before driving off, sipping. "It wasn't even chilled!" he said, unsure which act was more outrageous - drinking warm rosé or driving and drinking.</p><p>So we each had a few swigs (Tortoise Creek Zinfandel), straight from the bottle. It was completely delicious in the cold air, after the hike, between bites of sourdough sandwiches with tomato and prosciutto, a Chebris (sheep and goat cheese), and a fennel saucisson, all from the very appealing <a href="https://www.bluehillwineshop.com/">Blue Hill Wine Shop</a>. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0odov2t-qSaycASwJpbECM95VGJrRKm-oE6FO2r3DIoceqUNIxJAPHNv1vW4u7NQEhNeQYoXTFd594WnKBEUd4Hl8XOybSSwd8_hRTFVvMEFUDWSl1SxD5ZhJOq2DQJMnu2W-eKTAFQKld4keY4OUQAuPbKZX3tHE8tbBvT7onmoWK2G8vEYf2p4-wHZO/s1600/Harriman%20Point,%20fall,%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0odov2t-qSaycASwJpbECM95VGJrRKm-oE6FO2r3DIoceqUNIxJAPHNv1vW4u7NQEhNeQYoXTFd594WnKBEUd4Hl8XOybSSwd8_hRTFVvMEFUDWSl1SxD5ZhJOq2DQJMnu2W-eKTAFQKld4keY4OUQAuPbKZX3tHE8tbBvT7onmoWK2G8vEYf2p4-wHZO/w480-h640/Harriman%20Point,%20fall,%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" title="Fall in Maine, by Marie Viljoen" width="480" /></a></div><p>Then we walked a couple of miles back to our own car and drove (in a straight line) home. </p><p>*I grew up with wine at day picnics, brunch picnics, wine at lunch, wine at dinner...well, a lot of wine. (Also, not much water. But that is another story.)</p><p style="text-align: center;">_______________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Instagram: <a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/">@marie_viljoen</a></span></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-7549008928963456362023-10-08T20:05:00.005-04:002023-10-11T12:01:34.647-04:00October<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Bi1hrCkcK9AE0oz8ShZSvaPqTaiZM5WoPnz_O8C3AExy8WC5UvyvQRxdXyT5E9kmQCpCn5zEKUJo6yk85h7aX0nDyQl6Yr9WuvKSEJWyTyZdN0bQCnf2WdOo7VPGvwJANuwdb9-3emTDwZHKqY87TuIt5ESMvj62kT59bNfd4sfDmeUFCXMPeK3iYbIK/s1809/Rosehip_fall_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1809" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8Bi1hrCkcK9AE0oz8ShZSvaPqTaiZM5WoPnz_O8C3AExy8WC5UvyvQRxdXyT5E9kmQCpCn5zEKUJo6yk85h7aX0nDyQl6Yr9WuvKSEJWyTyZdN0bQCnf2WdOo7VPGvwJANuwdb9-3emTDwZHKqY87TuIt5ESMvj62kT59bNfd4sfDmeUFCXMPeK3iYbIK/w424-h640/Rosehip_fall_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Rosehips in Maine, by Marie Viljoen" width="424" /></a></div><p></p><p>Is one morally bound to discuss acts of war, if one is a(war)e of them, while walking in the autumn woods of a Maine shoreline, Downeast? Disaster stalks us. </p><p>Last night the wind let loose as a storm moved in and poised above us, and water rained so hard on the roof that clear rivers formed round the cottage that we are renting for a few days. Pools grew outside and I sent the Frenchman into the deluge to check our EV. Batteries and flooding don't mix well. We're just a week out from the flash floods that drowned our block and nearby neighborhoods.</p><p>Meanwhile, thousands dead; the story so complex, and terrible. And what is to come? War. What is it good for? It's good for politicians. For people in power. For certain kinds of business. For the makers and innovators of weapons and the technology that supports or thwarts them. For the contractors of conflict. And, rarely, for freedom.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtlohZ5os3p-Ttw1kTyD95yRF2raZ1RZg6dlZ0VPNAXGYIFnIee6jJk3OY8dB8Ye2Niz1m4Q-78j5U80-wDoKDgJOVY_VehzeF1gXDyhBlO6sFCii0BBEIMRGOKLDMARpM1YNlyXdlF_QWMdvEIGPP-Ur9Ua54yqmOLquFlTmTgrNeO-FYDkvTPrkZHqz/s1200/Barred%20island%20hike,%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvtlohZ5os3p-Ttw1kTyD95yRF2raZ1RZg6dlZ0VPNAXGYIFnIee6jJk3OY8dB8Ye2Niz1m4Q-78j5U80-wDoKDgJOVY_VehzeF1gXDyhBlO6sFCii0BBEIMRGOKLDMARpM1YNlyXdlF_QWMdvEIGPP-Ur9Ua54yqmOLquFlTmTgrNeO-FYDkvTPrkZHqz/w640-h360/Barred%20island%20hike,%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" title="Deer Islae, Maine, by Marie Viljoen" width="640" /></a></div><p>The woods here are wet and very green. In some places the moss is elbow-deep (I know, I measured). Weaponless but for eyes and intuition and and not a little reading, we have hunted mushrooms, with success. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8MOEufJLmJBrpkDWrl_kvIuyJ2hdMjEU3Ws0K6B3QDXN6pkPnyNRhfQxuuTca53868yTQfeRWYQSe6mC30PH3gtvF2vo4h5wt03W07ZhC2gkzrHoJ65jGH_VhdkB7LOWXOzRTUKixMdDVDjMQxgMlRPzm1lcA1pKYwx-86n0OxfPjnh6y8eqmTqwtYdef/s1600/Matsutake%20buttons%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8MOEufJLmJBrpkDWrl_kvIuyJ2hdMjEU3Ws0K6B3QDXN6pkPnyNRhfQxuuTca53868yTQfeRWYQSe6mC30PH3gtvF2vo4h5wt03W07ZhC2gkzrHoJ65jGH_VhdkB7LOWXOzRTUKixMdDVDjMQxgMlRPzm1lcA1pKYwx-86n0OxfPjnh6y8eqmTqwtYdef/w480-h640/Matsutake%20buttons%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" title="Matsutake buttons, by Marie Viljoen" width="480" /></a></div><p>Our suppers have been matsutake-filled, and tonight the stuffing for our little organic chicken, raised by a local farmer, is rice with <i>girolles</i> (yellow-foot chanterelles). </p><p style="text-align: center;">____________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">I'm mostly not here, but at Instagram:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/">@marie_viljoen</a></span></p><p><br /></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-28518413378825364412023-07-19T13:06:00.010-04:002023-07-20T10:08:25.616-04:00The chanterelle stream in the woods<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwojlXsng8gwq6Xweg-iynT6szjnlQRqTxtnZ_QfxN06qQnmN1LlrGGpJ6T5yTCPYpjpxfcgBJl--L2owlJUlMlV7CCGaFtU-NhalDT1ONs32J8gKANffMY5qTbUJQBAs7mEiwBhEoeG9p_bieozste4fusNkKREs8Pkz-e5swac9NMxVjMl_psQoIi9_/s1854/Chanterelle_river_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1854" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWwojlXsng8gwq6Xweg-iynT6szjnlQRqTxtnZ_QfxN06qQnmN1LlrGGpJ6T5yTCPYpjpxfcgBJl--L2owlJUlMlV7CCGaFtU-NhalDT1ONs32J8gKANffMY5qTbUJQBAs7mEiwBhEoeG9p_bieozste4fusNkKREs8Pkz-e5swac9NMxVjMl_psQoIi9_/w414-h640/Chanterelle_river_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Chanterelle Creek in 2019, by Marie Viljoen" width="414" /></a></div><p style="text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">In the middle of the summer-humid woods in the Hudson Valley is a stream where we picnic after hunting for chanterelles.</span><span style="text-align: left;"> Above: August, </span>2018 - the first time we saw it, water tumbling. There are crayfish in the water, with blue pincers.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipN6bUUuJ_zI9rWx4sydqWcclsPQnh3K7PzxbIh1dEXhftYOibQonpiv08ZQT5Rv2KCHnP6NGSoLGqxS06viSFd8R4Kgr-8h2PpLp1QQOr2irUQjdRGfU9-KF7Lm5CH00eAka3M4nYTGT-4Q9f5pezp4b0m7sFARJ7-Y5cfNBxcwGjzWSTK9q3szfrp8Bb/s1600/Chanterelle%20Creek%202021%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipN6bUUuJ_zI9rWx4sydqWcclsPQnh3K7PzxbIh1dEXhftYOibQonpiv08ZQT5Rv2KCHnP6NGSoLGqxS06viSFd8R4Kgr-8h2PpLp1QQOr2irUQjdRGfU9-KF7Lm5CH00eAka3M4nYTGT-4Q9f5pezp4b0m7sFARJ7-Y5cfNBxcwGjzWSTK9q3szfrp8Bb/w480-h640/Chanterelle%20Creek%202021%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2021 - Baskets of chanterelles collected.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4E9sVLF_V4XUFAtp7H1gZdBGKm43oPVvQUOFwk4UzoxoJVKJmoWf4-iVk9dDu5zxoYVFCvWFckL5PaLYHkG0p9wf8UsvmW6g5Nep4ABwTylOkzSPvDKlB58R5OROiY8jtoL0RSK8BGKXCtn98qbuOx8L_aEBmMUAD1MpmyEPLECuxYZ3lT-GZhvM9mYKd/s1709/Chanterelle_river_drought_2022_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1709" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4E9sVLF_V4XUFAtp7H1gZdBGKm43oPVvQUOFwk4UzoxoJVKJmoWf4-iVk9dDu5zxoYVFCvWFckL5PaLYHkG0p9wf8UsvmW6g5Nep4ABwTylOkzSPvDKlB58R5OROiY8jtoL0RSK8BGKXCtn98qbuOx8L_aEBmMUAD1MpmyEPLECuxYZ3lT-GZhvM9mYKd/w450-h640/Chanterelle_river_drought_2022_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Chanterelle Creek, July 2022, by Marie Viljoen" width="450" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">2022 - in a months-long drought. The crayfish were still there. Not a mushroom to be seen. </div></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQG43pv132yIvQki3o9TgoireJBHTK4b1ExPTKrjaWPoCxWej--0puDoGoNqO6G20Ig-0spm0UJcSzorMJa8kVhKXEvvcJ5ZlqhQgY5szl8sJhokzgFQADZdqtB_6rAMdMbNiXpBWh865cIVWU5FQKqvvzA7DFFjMkFUDYcaoqLwlUR17WBnZCITMQIZS/s1800/Chanterelle%20Creek%20July%202023%20by%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTQG43pv132yIvQki3o9TgoireJBHTK4b1ExPTKrjaWPoCxWej--0puDoGoNqO6G20Ig-0spm0UJcSzorMJa8kVhKXEvvcJ5ZlqhQgY5szl8sJhokzgFQADZdqtB_6rAMdMbNiXpBWh865cIVWU5FQKqvvzA7DFFjMkFUDYcaoqLwlUR17WBnZCITMQIZS/w426-h640/Chanterelle%20Creek%20July%202023%20by%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" title="Chanterelle Creek, July 2023, by Marie Viljoen" width="426" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">2023 - a recent weekend, after some small chanterelles (and lots of other mushrooms) were sighted, and the day before historic flooding in the Hudson Valley. What does it look like, after?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">As sticky and physically uncomfortable as these muggy hikes are, they are like a mesmerizing wonderland of interesting pale plants that coexist with the fungal world. The story, and a <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/time-forage-chanterelles/">chanterelle rice recipe</a>, are up on <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/time-forage-chanterelles/">Gardenista</a>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">______________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">25 July - NYBG class: <a href="https://www.enrole.com/nybg/jsp/session.jsp?sessionId=241CKG256&courseId=214CKG256&categoryId=11091">Summer Edible Plants</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">10 August - <a href="https://www.eventbrite.com/e/wild-edibles-walk-tickets-533910680217">Queens County Farm: Wild Edibles Walk</a></span></div>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-36501115585749221862023-07-13T13:23:00.004-04:002023-07-13T13:23:49.954-04:00American burnweed - a herb to eat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUlOkTRFGE4C8Kt5mFCSn1zkkKiRzvye0yPBpAfah3yFOiQVLHY4JeZtvV4NGPMKi1W6_jdEa0EPhruDLkWrH39lK-TEPyle0g7IDHY0PzePY2LPEBPjqLHbqe_fLPWsSKnfURvJDnwYjKniTNWj4G0HJ7QDyySLCbnYjjvf6_jbIm0-U0rPrV-ijyZluN/s1504/fireweed_%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1504" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUlOkTRFGE4C8Kt5mFCSn1zkkKiRzvye0yPBpAfah3yFOiQVLHY4JeZtvV4NGPMKi1W6_jdEa0EPhruDLkWrH39lK-TEPyle0g7IDHY0PzePY2LPEBPjqLHbqe_fLPWsSKnfURvJDnwYjKniTNWj4G0HJ7QDyySLCbnYjjvf6_jbIm0-U0rPrV-ijyZluN/w510-h640/fireweed_%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" title="American burnweed leaves on labneh, by Marie Viljoen" width="510" /></a></div><p>We lurch from apocalypse to apocalypse. Choking wildfire smoke, and now, unprecedented rainfall. Brooklyn escaped Sunday night's flooding rain; in fact, it has been drier than usual, while just an hour north, where we hunted chanterelles over the weekend, mild creeks and tame streams turned into torrential monsters, and cliffs into cataracts. </p><p>It is very hot, and meals have been cool. Above? Slivered baby cucumbers atop labneh, with Palestinina olive oil, New Jersey peas and...an indigenous plant foraged in Brooklyn.</p><p>In season now is an unheralded aromatic herb of North America: <i>Erechtites hieraciifolius</i> - known commonly as fireweed, American burnweed, or (ahem) pilewort (it has a long history of traditional medicinal use) is a soft, annual herb of deep summer. It is ultra-floral, very strongly herbal, and slightly bitter. I love it.</p><p>You can read all about <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/american-burnweed-recipes/">American burnweed in my story for Gardenista</a> (and snag a cooling-zinging mango salad recipe) and I hope you pounce on it when you see it, soon.</p><p style="text-align: center;">_____________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Find me on Instagram</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/"><span style="font-family: courier;">@marie_viljoen</span></a></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-23930080539653515262023-06-09T14:48:00.005-04:002023-06-09T14:48:44.113-04:00Apocalypse forage<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMxouBaxd3y-oGOy6dekwsL0WJ4glxzD_3qy6pl8V4qlO2dB2QIn3cVJj-uKkz2InRBlkT3JiJTsm68l9UzrCTJB87hcW1J32z1OE2lF3tTmd6a7oRDBcm0iE5NQXr3LSpMmBkDoeHqfNjLtB1nFtQW5bRUUW9qITLNGwsho6sQTg4fr2awziSveE0g/s1200/wildfire%20smoke%20NYC%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="835" data-original-width="1200" height="446" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsMxouBaxd3y-oGOy6dekwsL0WJ4glxzD_3qy6pl8V4qlO2dB2QIn3cVJj-uKkz2InRBlkT3JiJTsm68l9UzrCTJB87hcW1J32z1OE2lF3tTmd6a7oRDBcm0iE5NQXr3LSpMmBkDoeHqfNjLtB1nFtQW5bRUUW9qITLNGwsho6sQTg4fr2awziSveE0g/w640-h446/wildfire%20smoke%20NYC%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" title="Marine Parkway Bridge, by Marie Viljoen" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Some likened our apocalyptic skies this week, and the pervasive smell of smoke, to 9/11. But the smell of the Canadian wildfires was misleadingly wholesome and pleasant, like woodsmoke. Even through my N95 mask, from our Covid stash.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">9/11 was a terrible smell. Like burned wires and bone. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSxWHCUY4Bu_wTCbAH2eLCEUS77u4h7pnsz0wceCOPqo8GHgtz7DaRRL0YaLv2ki5Qz2Y0LNNS0ir9AgjeEcm8E6dpySPu7LtkmRfi4HIZY0mTszHoKWirjKRYjbcBWgsJDxuw-VGGW4WetNXoGbFpmAKmtnsF34pJmJEeP-6grCpd2AEcZVlqCS-rtA/s1608/apocalypse%20forage%20nyc%20-%20marie-viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1608" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSxWHCUY4Bu_wTCbAH2eLCEUS77u4h7pnsz0wceCOPqo8GHgtz7DaRRL0YaLv2ki5Qz2Y0LNNS0ir9AgjeEcm8E6dpySPu7LtkmRfi4HIZY0mTszHoKWirjKRYjbcBWgsJDxuw-VGGW4WetNXoGbFpmAKmtnsF34pJmJEeP-6grCpd2AEcZVlqCS-rtA/w478-h640/apocalypse%20forage%20nyc%20-%20marie-viljoen.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I went foraging, masked. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrEoiL4-rCy8rxJ5pWtTtNYF2ls_tv6eWwZJ_E_epZ4qbwJWtpdW-o1uUYtVS9Odmk4RS1U-arOqKCeik9jeM22ClZeqqjbSiKv--IoETcsZiBu9kvZuw_QGgkz09sIR4m76nML00pXeuALuPrsjZwPOJwG7eIGglkYD2MzRvyCrcxmgZXn58HnXAbQ/s1600/green%20peaches%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDrEoiL4-rCy8rxJ5pWtTtNYF2ls_tv6eWwZJ_E_epZ4qbwJWtpdW-o1uUYtVS9Odmk4RS1U-arOqKCeik9jeM22ClZeqqjbSiKv--IoETcsZiBu9kvZuw_QGgkz09sIR4m76nML00pXeuALuPrsjZwPOJwG7eIGglkYD2MzRvyCrcxmgZXn58HnXAbQ/w480-h640/green%20peaches%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>The air grew progressively worse; it hadn't been too bad when I set out. So the world was sepia. A few days before 9/11 I dreamed that my mother and I were hiding in a bombed-out building in lower Manhattan. This was the light in the dream. In the dream three old WWII-type bombers flew low over us.</div><div><br /></div><div>9/11 was a beautiful day, crystal clear and blue.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXMgBWogF-QD9ysH3QBzJhb_0fEm9n2340CDBD8pl5jt9lJT_B9ir7vesGl9uqkBxLhBPgevCBXo4hHT44IiXBZ0HaNM-I5FIAbXOJiV0zYgYi5DX4p0mec-mb48AXyxLyU5t1ugzHVCC4wxwzIA5aYAYXyHJmeOy9zW-cG6uPpGS5HzVWenFk2xeeQ/s1600/apocalypse%20forage%20-%20marie%20viljoen%20forager.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpXMgBWogF-QD9ysH3QBzJhb_0fEm9n2340CDBD8pl5jt9lJT_B9ir7vesGl9uqkBxLhBPgevCBXo4hHT44IiXBZ0HaNM-I5FIAbXOJiV0zYgYi5DX4p0mec-mb48AXyxLyU5t1ugzHVCC4wxwzIA5aYAYXyHJmeOy9zW-cG6uPpGS5HzVWenFk2xeeQ/w480-h640/apocalypse%20forage%20-%20marie%20viljoen%20forager.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div>I collected good things in the smoke and have many projects, now, most to fuel future forage picnics. The cones will be blanched, then pickled or/and turned into jam. The bayberry will be turned into a vivid green oil, to be frozen and scooped when needed. Also poached with summer fruits. The green peaches will be salted and fermented. their leaves will infuse white wine. The sweet clover will be dried for future biscuits, breads, and cakes.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">________________</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"> <a href="https://66squarefeet.blogspot.com/p/plant-walks-picnics-classes.html">Walks and Picnics</a></span></div><div><br /></div>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-35734509716854043392023-05-13T11:31:00.002-04:002023-05-13T11:32:33.269-04:00How to revive lilacs<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmzWRZ3_ga6Rusl8buvMmhnsSYo9LK6nrKXlSv4Y5ht63Zl8_ot2Tcv1bsX7gKWHYGVxbssFXB15QxdkXj8dFeM4Swq0ySCiV1wqfgRzenf8qBWOIJA4LpdwhCigmfhQ-GBL7jYRdmbrPk4VHVjob_pC-UDcsuJAhsCb0wnr0yDesO4m8ltj8NLY4AQ/s1200/lilac.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbmzWRZ3_ga6Rusl8buvMmhnsSYo9LK6nrKXlSv4Y5ht63Zl8_ot2Tcv1bsX7gKWHYGVxbssFXB15QxdkXj8dFeM4Swq0ySCiV1wqfgRzenf8qBWOIJA4LpdwhCigmfhQ-GBL7jYRdmbrPk4VHVjob_pC-UDcsuJAhsCb0wnr0yDesO4m8ltj8NLY4AQ/w640-h640/lilac.jpg" title="Lilacs in a vase" width="640" /></a></div><p>Lilacs, waiting for friends to come to Friday supper. </p><p>I bought the bunches at the Union Square farmers market on Wednesday, and, true-to-lilac-form, they wilted fast. Yesterday, to try and save my investment, I re-cut them, removed all the greenery, and submerged them entirely in a deep basin of water for about three hours. They perked up! Then, post supper-prep, I cruised the neighborhood, where the first roses have begun to open, and picked up some wonderful fruit tarts (Ladybird Bakery), an outstanding baguette (Winner NYC), cold wine (Big Nose, Full Body), and locally-made gin (Windsor Wine Merchants).</p><p>Thank you, Brooklyn.</p><p style="text-align: center;">_______________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Find me on Instagram</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/"><span style="font-family: courier;">@marie_viljoen</span></a></p> <p></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-65170752645435114992023-05-03T15:13:00.001-04:002023-05-03T15:13:05.186-04:00Chickweed<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rEP5aD11k5BNRJMEvjylJcLEJ_WZ6r68n0_CUZUcMxALB_ohD-pwntyGck3hq7wviA3qqr3J30WvWetoL6aGqwjCXZYvrr6t-ETajzzuTo00zETZxJnpD8QhJS6wV6OY6UNuJN3GGx72pHOfu9eWlz_qaASlueBFHECqbx8aKOLflL_MMT_GS2McNg/s1800/Chickweed_forage_marie-viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7rEP5aD11k5BNRJMEvjylJcLEJ_WZ6r68n0_CUZUcMxALB_ohD-pwntyGck3hq7wviA3qqr3J30WvWetoL6aGqwjCXZYvrr6t-ETajzzuTo00zETZxJnpD8QhJS6wV6OY6UNuJN3GGx72pHOfu9eWlz_qaASlueBFHECqbx8aKOLflL_MMT_GS2McNg/w426-h640/Chickweed_forage_marie-viljoen.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><br />Chickweed, a luscious, cool-weather green, has a unique flavor. Read all about it and get my super-easy <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/chickweed-taste-stars/">chickweed recipe on Gardenista</a>.<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-W_WAFhZjp0SgcReRfEvGIIpsZGSxaVSTPN9ovggoAs86HmkO0J_ITgyioLfu1d9XXOIbhLZ-RwmqY9mF5-b0vf-oI4ifs2lDTtoGNuJwfRw-r5FO6pHkvjtQC5Q82f6c0RHMU5NyzDVZurcsRaa90xr1c0kP3aFJsO3EE64TrH1qfLsUg4fuJt51g/s1800/chickweed_weight_marie-viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3-W_WAFhZjp0SgcReRfEvGIIpsZGSxaVSTPN9ovggoAs86HmkO0J_ITgyioLfu1d9XXOIbhLZ-RwmqY9mF5-b0vf-oI4ifs2lDTtoGNuJwfRw-r5FO6pHkvjtQC5Q82f6c0RHMU5NyzDVZurcsRaa90xr1c0kP3aFJsO3EE64TrH1qfLsUg4fuJt51g/w426-h640/chickweed_weight_marie-viljoen.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">_____________</p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-48614123967280390652023-05-03T09:46:00.006-04:002023-05-03T09:46:59.152-04:00May Day<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGGsQlRZnRPg15HULUmvbUEo12aV9jP9Y8lU_FoVftdEBPRyjSRWYH3n2jya6w48zNrdgmG9bs4jqTD4OLAMyvQ6snh084JPMK9Z6zp3ItLlojnoW0nSxtfwtgukoZvTUb5AkMlZ5mGycUrppyrBS9WY4dHCnX0C4cxNrLHVDATJBeiizoaVQ3y7g_A/s1200/Inwood%20Hill%20Park%20by%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDGGsQlRZnRPg15HULUmvbUEo12aV9jP9Y8lU_FoVftdEBPRyjSRWYH3n2jya6w48zNrdgmG9bs4jqTD4OLAMyvQ6snh084JPMK9Z6zp3ItLlojnoW0nSxtfwtgukoZvTUb5AkMlZ5mGycUrppyrBS9WY4dHCnX0C4cxNrLHVDATJBeiizoaVQ3y7g_A/w640-h360/Inwood%20Hill%20Park%20by%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p>On May Day, when the spoiled citizens of France took to their streets to protest their president's decree that they should retire at the age of 64, and not 62, I walked in the woods at the northwestern tip of Manhattan. </p><p>It had rained all weekend, and in the old hills, untouched by the grid that flattened so much of the island, water was running, everywhere.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2o2Bd-fgWbSYrb5BNNroOv4tMl7iHU3vjBxdZlAgKnjvX5gvjH6AMqmG-2pG9-1oNA7LIh_f-EdKNfrzMtfScshZBYN8CYvqtuDLaRB7VxAe_4YGq4OdL6JHn3RkI8KQrd4eurCKcbsmwW4cSyfmd8UNLVKqfU_mn9M_HZLSVNHIIBM3fijMJ1TttKA/s1608/nettles%20by%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1608" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2o2Bd-fgWbSYrb5BNNroOv4tMl7iHU3vjBxdZlAgKnjvX5gvjH6AMqmG-2pG9-1oNA7LIh_f-EdKNfrzMtfScshZBYN8CYvqtuDLaRB7VxAe_4YGq4OdL6JHn3RkI8KQrd4eurCKcbsmwW4cSyfmd8UNLVKqfU_mn9M_HZLSVNHIIBM3fijMJ1TttKA/w478-h640/nettles%20by%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="478" /></a></div><p>I visited a vast nettle patch and collected a bagful to blanch and freeze, for tarts and breads and biscuits and as-yet-uncreated mid-spring stews. Field garlic was at its fattest, too, and easy to pull from the sodden soil.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vm8feJw5kl7SBNcqehhR62fESPPvDaSOH_lu8ipINWMR1NhgZT45T8ACgE3crA2X-J-zKQH5FEihb5pQUzJ0jkdK1uhDtIRS6Z8lv1tfi9HpDQqN0W_Sus5VOWPDaRS4w9seONr3ruRFCTqsuai_5tLboL047BMh47nzJRa1SbwlqKjJ4hTXnocJ-w/s1560/wood%20ears%20by%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1560" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4vm8feJw5kl7SBNcqehhR62fESPPvDaSOH_lu8ipINWMR1NhgZT45T8ACgE3crA2X-J-zKQH5FEihb5pQUzJ0jkdK1uhDtIRS6Z8lv1tfi9HpDQqN0W_Sus5VOWPDaRS4w9seONr3ruRFCTqsuai_5tLboL047BMh47nzJRa1SbwlqKjJ4hTXnocJ-w/w492-h640/wood%20ears%20by%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="492" /></a></div><br />On logs obscured by fallen branches, in swathes of Japanese knotweed and emergent jewelweed, wood ears proliferated.<p></p><p>I saw a small handful of other people, mostly women, jogging, and walking, and the sounds that surrounded us for two hours were running water and singing birds. </p><p>As I left a man placed his large backpack on a rock in the forest and unpacked it, possibly to spend the day in contemplation of the million shades of spring green. But as I walked down my last hill I heard from his rock the fatal sound of flat bleating. The peace was shattered by his sack of bagpipes, playing a penetrating flaccid scale, each ascending note more defeated than the last. </p><p>My timing had been perfect.</p><p style="text-align: center;">________________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Find me on Instagram</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/"><span style="font-family: courier;">@marie_viljoen</span></a></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-37308607127357403612023-04-30T14:56:00.008-04:002023-05-02T19:25:52.647-04:00Forage picnic fare<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyIISxbjzVsj-E9brj-fKJARlraC12CbhtrX9WxNWFV5Isyj9OlwcQmXI-F1M0awPY3NSyTQGJJspsEyELKDdP1yLrhckFvjNNNT0cqGFoFROLJ2WUHpAn5YpPnhgkPTtWShyp_uEqAg4qgrz-ESLiNnKS4kpD89l3dcIdPdOjbf3gWyDkDIrCZs66zQ/s1392/focaccia%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1392" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyIISxbjzVsj-E9brj-fKJARlraC12CbhtrX9WxNWFV5Isyj9OlwcQmXI-F1M0awPY3NSyTQGJJspsEyELKDdP1yLrhckFvjNNNT0cqGFoFROLJ2WUHpAn5YpPnhgkPTtWShyp_uEqAg4qgrz-ESLiNnKS4kpD89l3dcIdPdOjbf3gWyDkDIrCZs66zQ/w552-h640/focaccia%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" title="Nettle focaccia by Marie Viljoen" width="552" /></a></div><p>Spring is packed with foraging, with picnics, with forays into green spaces, either alone or trailing two to 15 people, like a slow-moving, plant-obsessed comet. At the end of the group adventures, I spread out a picnic, sometimes on a bench, or on a slightly too-uneven log, or on grass, on a step, and everyone dips in, at first a little shyly, to taste some wild things. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKbIFZfMzpxacjP6yUsyzFk4hKmF3Uf405XX1ZfKcyULvw2bj8X2QAwRGTc6inmhsHERz403z783pELEf6dhgVwoTjkxr5zTu6-auYn9ayIQXMMGd1PN3wpky4IdlnaV2i94GWeU-eTfE4lzgy87Cpjy3jIvC-hz1XpIi7dtOQkxsnJznQRid3P7ajw/s1287/focaccia%20by%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1287" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoKbIFZfMzpxacjP6yUsyzFk4hKmF3Uf405XX1ZfKcyULvw2bj8X2QAwRGTc6inmhsHERz403z783pELEf6dhgVwoTjkxr5zTu6-auYn9ayIQXMMGd1PN3wpky4IdlnaV2i94GWeU-eTfE4lzgy87Cpjy3jIvC-hz1XpIi7dtOQkxsnJznQRid3P7ajw/w596-h640/focaccia%20by%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" title="Nettle focaccia rising" width="596" /></a></div><br />One of the regular features of these forage picnics is a focaccia, baked the night before, or that morning, and versatile enough to be able to convey the flavors of a season. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RNU9UkBw4BOUIfJgVruGd8lyOIMmn8T_6Hh5ztoGRSkZ64D8IOPZJKoYWHjcdrPnkCtSwm6e6oOBLndgK1-R4Db8MggFwmldxbSYSDb68eDa8SBARvqmNsb5-DIDeDvwflutriiwXgINYpWrzk9NStjSaBfw2vRjxo2d9gf0Np1JAKD5Ye0ozMLsBQ/s1406/dandelion%20focaccia%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1406" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8RNU9UkBw4BOUIfJgVruGd8lyOIMmn8T_6Hh5ztoGRSkZ64D8IOPZJKoYWHjcdrPnkCtSwm6e6oOBLndgK1-R4Db8MggFwmldxbSYSDb68eDa8SBARvqmNsb5-DIDeDvwflutriiwXgINYpWrzk9NStjSaBfw2vRjxo2d9gf0Np1JAKD5Ye0ozMLsBQ/w546-h640/dandelion%20focaccia%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="546" /></a></div><p>In April's case those flavors have been Japanese knotweed (first cooked gently in olive oil), dandelion flowers, ramp leaves, and lately, nettles - all pressed into the jiggly, bubbly dough just before I slide it into a blazing oven.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsG1UgQyll2hokaBHOiAFyBanvt8N8bxZrv_XWyt-2DsIbye3kmDopNsSlZfMdPtxAnFakXzOsBY9vzXqNp0LpyWlZnHHluLp86a2j_WU6oP5cFUDnY8QSG9eHkuZp3t6iHjj-p2YccasXY9R5Feg9hCgK7ia58pGpUMoQ8Q6GQcdu19zd300T5F1y7g/s1383/muscari%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1383" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsG1UgQyll2hokaBHOiAFyBanvt8N8bxZrv_XWyt-2DsIbye3kmDopNsSlZfMdPtxAnFakXzOsBY9vzXqNp0LpyWlZnHHluLp86a2j_WU6oP5cFUDnY8QSG9eHkuZp3t6iHjj-p2YccasXY9R5Feg9hCgK7ia58pGpUMoQ8Q6GQcdu19zd300T5F1y7g/w556-h640/muscari%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="556" /></a></div><p>Blanched muscari flowers are fun, and their flavor distinctive (more flowers in the dough).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilfoHjD1Dgea4R9AqsD07EMzqPWDSdYJt3wfxH7n0jkoytq0Vr_Mmk_dr2m-bsT0KZUpUM6dO3zXGEQqm-N6q_PIWjmIpdV9opss9pDQgqjnpjqcrc4LW45f5BLl2FGXAk4C1MSTSogoZRYwo-YGaxiaXhN2Uc-6hB5pgBXqvoLqDYlsnrRf1azzKEwA/s1293/muscari%20focaccia%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1293" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilfoHjD1Dgea4R9AqsD07EMzqPWDSdYJt3wfxH7n0jkoytq0Vr_Mmk_dr2m-bsT0KZUpUM6dO3zXGEQqm-N6q_PIWjmIpdV9opss9pDQgqjnpjqcrc4LW45f5BLl2FGXAk4C1MSTSogoZRYwo-YGaxiaXhN2Uc-6hB5pgBXqvoLqDYlsnrRf1azzKEwA/w594-h640/muscari%20focaccia%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="594" /></a></div><p style="text-align: left;">Although the ones atop the focaccia did lose their color...</p><p>I manage to snap pictures of them, briefly, for my notes - time is rather tight: Picnic prep takes about eight hours, not counting the actual foraging, marketing, or route-planning. (Or the planning, the posting, the emails, the weather-watching...) </p><p>So these are the snaps.</p><p style="text-align: center;">______________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Find me on Instagram</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/">@marie_viljoen</a></span></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-49655855245518448732023-04-26T11:58:00.004-04:002023-04-26T14:07:17.113-04:00The King (of Everything)<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdaI4ssIjPuU7SayjKrC0iqGBv_Ej3vmQWCIVzFpauLF1UWHOj1e1E2FCw0m2wSi1oQp1SK1i3DHPxGN9z1IdjCcqELZ7Wnp_v9xKwuCtaNdTaViUFDiVx0ctmRdJNZt_jjLdxR98DYLSH4DMubEcqNckYG8hwevmwZ6KkFpZZu5EZ36pfIds6U1DyZw/s1200/nkwe_pirelli_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdaI4ssIjPuU7SayjKrC0iqGBv_Ej3vmQWCIVzFpauLF1UWHOj1e1E2FCw0m2wSi1oQp1SK1i3DHPxGN9z1IdjCcqELZ7Wnp_v9xKwuCtaNdTaViUFDiVx0ctmRdJNZt_jjLdxR98DYLSH4DMubEcqNckYG8hwevmwZ6KkFpZZu5EZ36pfIds6U1DyZw/w640-h426/nkwe_pirelli_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Nkwe Pirelli" width="640" /></a></div><br />April has skidded past on green heels, leaving pollen devils whirling in its wake. So my blog-posting has suffered. But here is proof of life. <p></p><p>Nkwe Pirelli continues to entertain and amaze. It's been 10 weeks since he moved in with us and the spectre that both the Frenchman and I feared, in adopting a new cat ("What if he's boring, and just sits there?") has been banished. I mean, he does sit. Sometimes. And, mercifully, sleeps. But he is not boring. He has found his voice, is teaching us his ways. And we have laughed more in the last couple of months than in many years.</p><p>And that's not nothing.</p><p>Now, it's back to spring.</p><p style="text-align: center;">_____________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Find me (more often) on Instagram </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://www.instagram.com/marie_viljoen/">@marie_viljoen</a></span></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-62050935204236561552023-03-31T11:52:00.002-04:002023-03-31T11:52:17.474-04:00Wisteria Syrup and Sake Popsicles<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYK_YpGTfZcQH3tvqp-XjdqqT62F_DfaTp9C_bVmhMgw11ZsM9hUj6Z6EUg1PFActzU9Q68DV8KOmn5Gv-qvROMbaEM4g_ncxPYaBIqlfTQZwjDedf6t3rLbZhJ2Ci8ffyB13so_YJLT3qc6Ii8WzLxYvbgBLJeZmY583X3E8Q7oXK1SQRFw7-RrPMWQ/s1691/wisteria_sake_popsicles_marie-viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1691" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYK_YpGTfZcQH3tvqp-XjdqqT62F_DfaTp9C_bVmhMgw11ZsM9hUj6Z6EUg1PFActzU9Q68DV8KOmn5Gv-qvROMbaEM4g_ncxPYaBIqlfTQZwjDedf6t3rLbZhJ2Ci8ffyB13so_YJLT3qc6Ii8WzLxYvbgBLJeZmY583X3E8Q7oXK1SQRFw7-RrPMWQ/w454-h640/wisteria_sake_popsicles_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Sake wisteria popsicles" width="454" /></a></div><br />You need sake popsicles... <p></p><p>One of my more inspired ideas, I made them for the first time back at <a href="https://66squarefeet.blogspot.com/search/label/1st%20Place">1st Place</a>, where we had a huge old wisteria vine. To make them you need, well, sake (I like a cloudy one - so look for Nigori). You also need wisteria syrup for the flowers' unique perfume and flavor. They're still a month off from blooming in Brooklyn, but in this long, crazy country, they are already in bloom further south.</p><p style="text-align: left;">Find my <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/drink-flowers-wisteria-glass/">recipe for wisteria syrup and the popsicles on Gardenista</a>, and also (a slightly different version) in <i>Forage, Harvest, Feast. </i></p><p style="text-align: center;">______________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://66squarefeet.blogspot.com/p/plant-walks-picnics-classes.html">Wild Walks and Forage Picnics</a></span></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-61325631923220675582023-03-17T14:01:00.006-04:002023-03-17T14:02:50.315-04:00Pirelli<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoALlzUaloPb_O2CvaEt-bKLDy7pq99p99DpNhUoLNLR9fP2yoCHZX8PIHR52t448Va2fnOS8zARL4G5Ygbmllx95qnOgpzEbyDu1iDx5XW_0908rrYNriB0pIJ8SJBEqWC-tFMHv7Gl9vhSZd14imttCELm1zbAcGcLi_Zipk_wczDQBtl45T5GlWIA/s1200/Pirelli%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoALlzUaloPb_O2CvaEt-bKLDy7pq99p99DpNhUoLNLR9fP2yoCHZX8PIHR52t448Va2fnOS8zARL4G5Ygbmllx95qnOgpzEbyDu1iDx5XW_0908rrYNriB0pIJ8SJBEqWC-tFMHv7Gl9vhSZd14imttCELm1zbAcGcLi_Zipk_wczDQBtl45T5GlWIA/w640-h426/Pirelli%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" title="Pirelli, by Marie Viljoen" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"> I mean, Pirelli. You can tell he was made for the movies. </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">I am sure he knew Marcello Mastroianni...</div><p></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-82725806432878421112023-03-14T12:30:00.007-04:002023-03-14T12:32:16.012-04:00Nkwe Pirelli, Five Weeks In...<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWN07wAZr4xo-bFoaeVTL2jUsoAzU_GfuCOrWHCauXzlRNJareesyHEEnhDvtRm6kiYBCcNX0nLhLg3Tbd7B7PlWkTk-GEda6fnhC-jh6HdXVEXG1NDP4mPFyhg13LBfhJNXsUPAUgADDU5AZmmaTClRXoLd2jMPAl20-5POyMqTdJrpW8IHXl6I9IUQ/s1744/Nkwe%20Pirelli%20King%20of%20String.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1744" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWN07wAZr4xo-bFoaeVTL2jUsoAzU_GfuCOrWHCauXzlRNJareesyHEEnhDvtRm6kiYBCcNX0nLhLg3Tbd7B7PlWkTk-GEda6fnhC-jh6HdXVEXG1NDP4mPFyhg13LBfhJNXsUPAUgADDU5AZmmaTClRXoLd2jMPAl20-5POyMqTdJrpW8IHXl6I9IUQ/w440-h640/Nkwe%20Pirelli%20King%20of%20String.jpg" title="Cat in window, by Marie Viljoen" width="440" /></a></div><br /> Nkwe Pirelli, King of String (and PrrrP) in one of his favorite spots. Plenty of live bird-action out there...<p></p><p>Sometimes we address him as Pirelli, especially when he pulls a "crazy Pirelli"- suddenly thundering down the passage with his tail cocked like a monkey's (the reference is from the movie <i>Hunt for Red October</i>, when a Russian submarine captain - Sean Connery - pulls a crazy Ivan). I have never known such a thundering cat. Even when he walks you can hear his tough little pads (Pirellis, of course) on the wooden floor. And yes, I have asked our downstairs neighbor, also a cat owner, to let us know if it's ever a problem...</p><p>And sometimes we call him Nkwe, more as an endearment. (Nkwe means leopard in Tswana and Sotho, and he has the compact, lethal muscles of a leopard, as well as the tooth-and-claw, piercing talents...still plenty of street-swipe in him).</p><p>And no, he doesn't eat flowers. But he cannot be left alone with string, even for a few seconds. </p><p style="text-align: center;">_________________</p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-28957020451076719932023-03-13T19:51:00.002-04:002023-03-13T19:52:01.043-04:00How to grow ramps - and why<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWV1QhwEr8F4M-cb8vRbD4wNSquoiEUHWhG3BM0642-tl0ultPlT9tsoiSYsw2lBcwkrVro-iFVjuvgyXEgya10c2hS01GIL9nvM12u0csmU-KeKJ2W2HViDpR_F-_OrfRPrOFzx6E2o-3QhobYC5ZqXOdizft-Zr7RNwBH0GI6yL3EMg9ll_7dV-qHA/s1817/Ramps%20in%20pots.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1817" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWV1QhwEr8F4M-cb8vRbD4wNSquoiEUHWhG3BM0642-tl0ultPlT9tsoiSYsw2lBcwkrVro-iFVjuvgyXEgya10c2hS01GIL9nvM12u0csmU-KeKJ2W2HViDpR_F-_OrfRPrOFzx6E2o-3QhobYC5ZqXOdizft-Zr7RNwBH0GI6yL3EMg9ll_7dV-qHA/w422-h640/Ramps%20in%20pots.jpg" title="How to grow ramps" width="422" /></a></div><p>What is that green shoot? It has four friends, too. They are all - well, cough, all five - <i>ramps</i>, just up in a pot on our terrace after a curious winter (deep freezes in December, thaws, record-high February temperatures, more freezes, and a lot of rain).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMb1rPaH3NAXgzaNewRQL2jIF2FUHbIru-JvVVu7ixMJYkdvbYMJVzkSX7PDmMTEf4LtNPsp6ZuKjexfREOIDlpnS9EyywiN6oGHaJAXa9oEQrEUoOxGNYbr-ob11hbcCESV58JEGwvyB-2__iG3MFHNmg01xC4G3v-yxaTxNBh0g--Y9QMgE8cZMUJA/s1800/ramps%20on%20south%20facing%20slope%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMb1rPaH3NAXgzaNewRQL2jIF2FUHbIru-JvVVu7ixMJYkdvbYMJVzkSX7PDmMTEf4LtNPsp6ZuKjexfREOIDlpnS9EyywiN6oGHaJAXa9oEQrEUoOxGNYbr-ob11hbcCESV58JEGwvyB-2__iG3MFHNmg01xC4G3v-yxaTxNBh0g--Y9QMgE8cZMUJA/w426-h640/ramps%20on%20south%20facing%20slope%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" title="Ramps on a slope in the Catskills" width="426" /></a></div><p>When you have seen a mountainside green with ramps, five plants in a pot might not seem like much. But when you have seen a forest where ramps used to grow, and that is now bereft of their green leaves in early spring... those five cultivated ramps are a big deal.</p><p>Ramps are a wild onion - <i>Allium tricoccum</i> and <i>A. tricoccum </i>var<i> burdickii</i>, and they are a beloved wild, native, edible plant; so loved that they are being harvested into oblivion in some US states, and in Canada. </p><p>But they are not hard to cultivate. Love ramps? Have some land or a pot or a garden?</p><p>Find how to grow them in my<a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/leave-wild-ramps-alone-learn-grow-home/"> Ramp 101 story for Gardenista</a>. At least, that was the original title - it has been modified. I <i>do</i> harvest wild ramps in a place where they are abundant - leaves only. </p><p>And that is my mantra: #rampleavesonly</p><p style="text-align: center;">____________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Courier;"><a href="https://66squarefeet.blogspot.com/p/plant-walks-picnics-classes.html">New Forage Classes - March, April and May</a></span></p> <p></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-87158365116469888132023-03-03T12:24:00.011-05:002023-03-03T12:25:33.731-05:00Let it bloom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXMF-echi2oZoTY8P6DaT914DBU446IO4ZpmIdDM8W8ovPMj8mPwVkPiK1sE7H4qxlniV2Dax_zGCT6W-BCM-Mq1RFETtVJDf5m0gPhUuAejw28OMls4zPwtivyUozpoY4rGB_iVFoYKjvu3iHZYougCVh7lZujsUdPu1AeIn0ihIk7IyCszKg6qjyQ/s1586/Anemones%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1586" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvXMF-echi2oZoTY8P6DaT914DBU446IO4ZpmIdDM8W8ovPMj8mPwVkPiK1sE7H4qxlniV2Dax_zGCT6W-BCM-Mq1RFETtVJDf5m0gPhUuAejw28OMls4zPwtivyUozpoY4rGB_iVFoYKjvu3iHZYougCVh7lZujsUdPu1AeIn0ihIk7IyCszKg6qjyQ/w484-h640/Anemones%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" title="Kitchen scene, March 3rd" width="484" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div>Friday office. I could not resist (decided not to resist?) the anemones that were being sold at the Union Square Greenmarket on Wednesday. They were wrapped in tissue paper, in petite bouquets, still in tight bud. They remind me of childhood, where they bloomed in the cold spring of the Free State in my mother's garden. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was at market for the quinces, grown by Locust Grove Fruit Farm (NY), and kept in cold storage since fall, but they as fragrant as quinces should be. Today I am delivering them to two friends, will be poaching some to make a picnic snack for my class at the New York Botanical Garden tomorrow, and will bottle the rest.</div><div><br /></div><div>The artichokes? Sold very fresh, with stems, at a Brooklyn institution - 5 Guys from Brooklyn. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's March!</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">______________</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://linktr.ee/marieviljoen">Find my Classes, Books, Etc.</a></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-83313237542295484972023-03-02T14:34:00.005-05:002023-03-02T14:34:59.805-05:00Tulips: week in, week out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5fPv8-QR_GbR_w7eiar1SMPMEGT-4QleDGAxmszKcm0K7ioulK5hhdcN7WNmXhrFr_SUVnvjpx9F2NvzCvIslH771NLLpu00QDL5XZEnqSzUdyIEF9dEliE4rvPtpSWlo04A-Vw9RTlVxfAwhXFq8p3CG3p0XjwFYSZuzTcoFFKO1VqH35m3wAJL-w/s1811/tulips_cobalt_marie-viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1811" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs5fPv8-QR_GbR_w7eiar1SMPMEGT-4QleDGAxmszKcm0K7ioulK5hhdcN7WNmXhrFr_SUVnvjpx9F2NvzCvIslH771NLLpu00QDL5XZEnqSzUdyIEF9dEliE4rvPtpSWlo04A-Vw9RTlVxfAwhXFq8p3CG3p0XjwFYSZuzTcoFFKO1VqH35m3wAJL-w/w424-h640/tulips_cobalt_marie-viljoen.jpg" width="424" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;">Tulips and books. Read all about both, how to choose (the tulips), how to make them lean (or stand to attention), and...how to eat them. In my story for </span><a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/how-make-tulips-last-longer/" style="text-align: left;">Gardenista</a><span style="text-align: left;">.</span></div><p style="text-align: center;">_________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Book: <a href="https://www.enrole.com/nybg/jsp/session.jsp?sessionId=233CCKG247&courseId=212CKG247&categoryId=11091">My NYBG class, 4 March 2023</a></span></p><br /><p></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-79618240621705071642023-02-27T19:31:00.003-05:002023-02-27T19:32:54.010-05:00Witnessed:<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCw_70HEjlR7kM1AQrqT631cqP0KODHy7X2UP_LvkGHIcxgreGD7SYePlwxhvheXW5FcTItDIRKPfswfAFuayZB5QCNWB7pRfAsJ_q_7PpyFaJLQVhblgvIMCdoJNHfGKDm8dZGuAvfaUKUpCb4HvXhlvt4OUZHdTsdO3fMAEiHmovvqkTYfaRvC6ZA/s1200/Breezy%20point%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRCw_70HEjlR7kM1AQrqT631cqP0KODHy7X2UP_LvkGHIcxgreGD7SYePlwxhvheXW5FcTItDIRKPfswfAFuayZB5QCNWB7pRfAsJ_q_7PpyFaJLQVhblgvIMCdoJNHfGKDm8dZGuAvfaUKUpCb4HvXhlvt4OUZHdTsdO3fMAEiHmovvqkTYfaRvC6ZA/w640-h480/Breezy%20point%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">...the big blue of the beginning of Jamaica Bay, just off the tip of Breezy Point, Queens, New York City.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3vzFhhVA4Vw4K5YfEcRumXZdiFCUDm7khAii1jwtEvruF6sUZxQHZSD8Ylct6-p2TDGzu0SEKBib4LOgFSNgszEoWX6683YPPcf4WGx_tkkJOO74sqQbzzQOJt86MJs-xHxENfiHmnnYupck3eZ8yPBkhD0hMzoGiO2v60eFQ-lwzAkuPxuyVCZdhQ/s1200/Breezy%20Point%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA3vzFhhVA4Vw4K5YfEcRumXZdiFCUDm7khAii1jwtEvruF6sUZxQHZSD8Ylct6-p2TDGzu0SEKBib4LOgFSNgszEoWX6683YPPcf4WGx_tkkJOO74sqQbzzQOJt86MJs-xHxENfiHmnnYupck3eZ8yPBkhD0hMzoGiO2v60eFQ-lwzAkuPxuyVCZdhQ/w640-h480/Breezy%20Point%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">There are dunes, there is a wraparound beach. And on Sunday, there was clear water.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsdRHYFeRXg_LrM2mzX09lh4yG91Mffw0QOBBfB2dRgl8rw_8OB3rZE_5gXrgYQnr9kUkm4IE2D3JubD7-2PCwZXR_QsT63uDB1rKgNI7Bw9VMIn2wBzWbVd5GJA9Ped5IAHANOKqrlglktthfrdhe2y5O5VmuHq7dMFe-ud40R7-x9N4BYmroeQKsg/s1600/Breezy%20Point%20buoy%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvsdRHYFeRXg_LrM2mzX09lh4yG91Mffw0QOBBfB2dRgl8rw_8OB3rZE_5gXrgYQnr9kUkm4IE2D3JubD7-2PCwZXR_QsT63uDB1rKgNI7Bw9VMIn2wBzWbVd5GJA9Ped5IAHANOKqrlglktthfrdhe2y5O5VmuHq7dMFe-ud40R7-x9N4BYmroeQKsg/w480-h640/Breezy%20Point%20buoy%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The giant pumpkin is an iron buoy, about four feet across.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_qbstklAb30eHxGKskrp6nagzDKWsqua1TF9Ifm2gIykBVv0lY86N94bE4pVgOYk9Wz_H9mf6e-yPFcVWZ_i42V_U5UZuzie9iMg4yoyKpOX-E7VLI04CRs6VubkEHDd_cWoswF0qKSK2Hp6jmLtwLM6UpH6pPuZluBR02Te2GtwbU_0x5A4o3xJ5w/s1600/Breezy%20Point%20water%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiB_qbstklAb30eHxGKskrp6nagzDKWsqua1TF9Ifm2gIykBVv0lY86N94bE4pVgOYk9Wz_H9mf6e-yPFcVWZ_i42V_U5UZuzie9iMg4yoyKpOX-E7VLI04CRs6VubkEHDd_cWoswF0qKSK2Hp6jmLtwLM6UpH6pPuZluBR02Te2GtwbU_0x5A4o3xJ5w/w480-h640/Breezy%20Point%20water%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">The tide had been high, and was receding.</div></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfkChN_4iH6bBsXVHCZRp44dNwYpYKdD9ypbIiGVx-7TL55JT_jNheXRjZU1C6IiRutir7muf-d49I3OwtAmljQYm9xpP6oyXPK28LwdYW4uFyYWj1CTJ9DcaUKTUO2jl6WuoGYSh3CBAY6RfyUHWJ1cLWxz3frf9f4euN4AV3OZgcXpiQ8XJuAZ1hQ/s1200/Breezy%20Point%20-%20dunes%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbfkChN_4iH6bBsXVHCZRp44dNwYpYKdD9ypbIiGVx-7TL55JT_jNheXRjZU1C6IiRutir7muf-d49I3OwtAmljQYm9xpP6oyXPK28LwdYW4uFyYWj1CTJ9DcaUKTUO2jl6WuoGYSh3CBAY6RfyUHWJ1cLWxz3frf9f4euN4AV3OZgcXpiQ8XJuAZ1hQ/w640-h480/Breezy%20Point%20-%20dunes%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The dune grasses crest hills of sand that are part of the Gateway National Recreation Area - a federal preserve. The preserve surrounds the gated human community of Breezy Point, where even the residential side roads each have their own barrier of a boom to keep them separate within their separation.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Eglkbe_yqwEa3zA9yFijVfwyFizAVvA3tc8x7bd55-2yXs80K3izSniG_XUV5Z8TeA2QUPo0S4YVwZhRr-9QZLhSHpzTa5UzpK9pMnfVeWTwbv8FAb8aKedwA5UWu5iunIjqoX2p4T2cwzuEcPzmaqd_eeGs5uaSfltY86jiVvcHNEoV7pM0trWiog/s1200/Breezy%20Point%20winter%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="851" data-original-width="1200" height="454" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9Eglkbe_yqwEa3zA9yFijVfwyFizAVvA3tc8x7bd55-2yXs80K3izSniG_XUV5Z8TeA2QUPo0S4YVwZhRr-9QZLhSHpzTa5UzpK9pMnfVeWTwbv8FAb8aKedwA5UWu5iunIjqoX2p4T2cwzuEcPzmaqd_eeGs5uaSfltY86jiVvcHNEoV7pM0trWiog/w640-h454/Breezy%20Point%20winter%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>To access the point - whose barrier island mate, framing New York Harbor, is south, in New Jersey, at Sandy Hook - you can either walk along the beach for a couple of miles from a public access area, or drive and park, as long as you have a permit. We have a permit. This is a birding hotspot. And we did spot hundreds of northern gannets, flocking like a snow shower against the backdrop of Coney Island as they dive-bombed the blue water for fish.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEqQ5NDl4NFrCN3jqfQcVnndYzHuJ1HAxbEfzg4z-TN_CB966h2HDnE-aMCj4GKjjQ3uC2Oy8L2sHxi5wur4XEvmwTQr2w1d1vvXdLbURe2bZuXdZR6tkAxi1L3dujaZ_qGljBmWbjPfMCAGLTEwtlwwH-GL7eyctsDvurMgX_q_eDKwzwL2jh-10hA/s1600/Breezy%20Point%20animal%20tracks%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyEqQ5NDl4NFrCN3jqfQcVnndYzHuJ1HAxbEfzg4z-TN_CB966h2HDnE-aMCj4GKjjQ3uC2Oy8L2sHxi5wur4XEvmwTQr2w1d1vvXdLbURe2bZuXdZR6tkAxi1L3dujaZ_qGljBmWbjPfMCAGLTEwtlwwH-GL7eyctsDvurMgX_q_eDKwzwL2jh-10hA/w480-h640/Breezy%20Point%20animal%20tracks%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">In the quiet dunes there were prints.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDP8AYONKkjF9CDzjNo9LYCtfJQwBxzb_-wW9VxoNDWqnvXStfQQGTKOP4tm9qCb5qk6fbVmt_v6mjitFYF1q0vKvBZZzsWGB9BZ63aeCZu2fVTe9xsAHZiv0tqdtE-Q41OEUd8P44akn5Yt6FnMdYJW6gO7tck85plgAPtws1q_RwaUzRJ2xc8SY_0w/s1600/Breezy%20Point%20tracks%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDP8AYONKkjF9CDzjNo9LYCtfJQwBxzb_-wW9VxoNDWqnvXStfQQGTKOP4tm9qCb5qk6fbVmt_v6mjitFYF1q0vKvBZZzsWGB9BZ63aeCZu2fVTe9xsAHZiv0tqdtE-Q41OEUd8P44akn5Yt6FnMdYJW6gO7tck85plgAPtws1q_RwaUzRJ2xc8SY_0w/w480-h640/Breezy%20Point%20tracks%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggr5ftWD3KCOC2RZRp9-zO8eOeQocdtM1pqzgw7u1gDa5a_s8J8RImBd4-LhLrZCL2uitDuT15wXt_zjWbyS-HmhmwVHgrPsoNbID7E_-5a-ezLUxRYCvurLlSvLnl4pR32WfZNiLYO_niBIOuOue4kMWJvpRBwEAQtwZdGLznOYOnu2BBDg1FO5guzA/s1600/Paw%20prints%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggr5ftWD3KCOC2RZRp9-zO8eOeQocdtM1pqzgw7u1gDa5a_s8J8RImBd4-LhLrZCL2uitDuT15wXt_zjWbyS-HmhmwVHgrPsoNbID7E_-5a-ezLUxRYCvurLlSvLnl4pR32WfZNiLYO_niBIOuOue4kMWJvpRBwEAQtwZdGLznOYOnu2BBDg1FO5guzA/w480-h640/Paw%20prints%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-k80OqHgxOjvZnaivATQS7GwfTEf6aHnSK3f242TIsRrOQp_tFsOPKWfiUhcKByvrZiqBGNFSjzZ2g4mE4Mmi47dy0VJ04DPYBAWK3LA9bImgS5L3u9-SrGosT3cda6kDpJRIUwcquWvHQlo0uCIPlQaYFlp0px9WywcfyXO1b-xix5XZ9aZxUebnA/s1200/Breezy%20Point%20-%20tug%20in%20channel%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-k80OqHgxOjvZnaivATQS7GwfTEf6aHnSK3f242TIsRrOQp_tFsOPKWfiUhcKByvrZiqBGNFSjzZ2g4mE4Mmi47dy0VJ04DPYBAWK3LA9bImgS5L3u9-SrGosT3cda6kDpJRIUwcquWvHQlo0uCIPlQaYFlp0px9WywcfyXO1b-xix5XZ9aZxUebnA/w640-h480/Breezy%20Point%20-%20tug%20in%20channel%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">A tug left Jamaica Bay, drawing a barge. A cruise ship/floating petri dish sailed from New York Harbor. Thousands of souls, stacked, and ready for paradise.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-VzQUA1TaIMk0y-ndlXl5DSSj6ini6BNqIf0YIT5vOea99wyiKuXHIXhV7-Zs2Fo9oOwA_vZNRs7p7UnTlSFg5x-AO5aOUDNJ06sTW1w3ivx2Iy4FXYm8IY_tbMHyGEDal9eynxgWi3MIfytllaPJYTzC9mW9bNYE1fkB7In7bDAWgM37rXbtXgUfSw/s1600/Breezy%20Point%20water%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-VzQUA1TaIMk0y-ndlXl5DSSj6ini6BNqIf0YIT5vOea99wyiKuXHIXhV7-Zs2Fo9oOwA_vZNRs7p7UnTlSFg5x-AO5aOUDNJ06sTW1w3ivx2Iy4FXYm8IY_tbMHyGEDal9eynxgWi3MIfytllaPJYTzC9mW9bNYE1fkB7In7bDAWgM37rXbtXgUfSw/w480-h640/Breezy%20Point%20water%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And the outgoing tide, leaving fields of clam shells exposed.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzinpAyfxIucPg3nBKA58BjWJHCY0aIyQRYAkdp8K_94TpPctZ8oTrA1Ro75TzohXlF_Ge3RF2Ryn3ckxz_tJl7x5ew5t9FFtH3YM-Be4gdj0cc9LGu8JJdHJEuew5XGDdAEyuhaRLX1XlN6K2DJCTysQxbEHhDcYqAVz_T2blnTJvFFbmlEzAuVBQqQ/s1705/bud%20lite%20party%20breezy%20point%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1705" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzinpAyfxIucPg3nBKA58BjWJHCY0aIyQRYAkdp8K_94TpPctZ8oTrA1Ro75TzohXlF_Ge3RF2Ryn3ckxz_tJl7x5ew5t9FFtH3YM-Be4gdj0cc9LGu8JJdHJEuew5XGDdAEyuhaRLX1XlN6K2DJCTysQxbEHhDcYqAVz_T2blnTJvFFbmlEzAuVBQqQ/w450-h640/bud%20lite%20party%20breezy%20point%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="450" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">In a hollow in the dunes were the signs of a gated community's party. A quick, casual, walking inventory counted 80 Bud Light cans. A bottle of Malibu rum, and a lot of hard tea.</div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ayn3Bieg61mzQzOwRYr2DAuLE4znTdUiypnKYrwwZ_R3cKI0UNIpfZBmmJQ86oRg420Q0n6Nh8z9_8t80m7V9ML-yixrgw7-WJ_kY0GLbwj-8xcg06PGd64oIcHlrfp5A8rvMCpTKU4DrZCt789r7HYvk49DpHuA78vOm86J824Cwm_UgK9N_vGv5Q/s1600/breezy%20point%20epipen%20part%20in%20dunes%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3ayn3Bieg61mzQzOwRYr2DAuLE4znTdUiypnKYrwwZ_R3cKI0UNIpfZBmmJQ86oRg420Q0n6Nh8z9_8t80m7V9ML-yixrgw7-WJ_kY0GLbwj-8xcg06PGd64oIcHlrfp5A8rvMCpTKU4DrZCt789r7HYvk49DpHuA78vOm86J824Cwm_UgK9N_vGv5Q/w480-h640/breezy%20point%20epipen%20part%20in%20dunes%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Also an epipen and an abandoned toiletry bag containing an asthma inhaler.</div></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwmHSLB7mAi-WgjvKQGbN20FlfnS1AybCQmI72kS6kFWqxFjpjSaorACry2wxO6G8a4mzPg9Zjq7UraQdvAvWEifjmC-yARJBLL-PpHMGqF38EHDT057YFfGd4YCxdOqMZdgXNf_bfsi583cVKjOScHn-sgrjpHIda0fxCTYsIBzWMD92dqt8hq5ffQ/s1535/Breezy%20Point%20trash%20and%20party%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1535" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiwmHSLB7mAi-WgjvKQGbN20FlfnS1AybCQmI72kS6kFWqxFjpjSaorACry2wxO6G8a4mzPg9Zjq7UraQdvAvWEifjmC-yARJBLL-PpHMGqF38EHDT057YFfGd4YCxdOqMZdgXNf_bfsi583cVKjOScHn-sgrjpHIda0fxCTYsIBzWMD92dqt8hq5ffQ/w500-h640/Breezy%20Point%20trash%20and%20party%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="500" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">We drove back out from this lovely beach, past the boom-sealed roads, the private security force's (sorry: Public Safety)'s headquarters, and wondered, as we have, so many times, about what makes this large country tick.</div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">________________</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://linktr.ee/marieviljoen">Wild Walks, Classes, Stories</a></span></div>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-31301130920105912412023-02-21T14:23:00.002-05:002023-02-21T14:23:47.716-05:00Choose field garlic <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpi3AeSvm4mTiYIMs5yseRDqPCNBn9nfDFqGs2gX9Nf6AvXNXqAw8rXokcJWfZdA-7DXLGUzAOKvws7T8goWfKFNjhwiZzVn2yYvxQy75KOYkGqkQVjEdRqPp6rE4eegrgRHbeWZFaBcZK_-EOuuY_A6SSPalBRP6UzaeD52VxJDYQTmMgEF8KLNwHA/s1761/field_garlic_forage_harvest_feast_marie-viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1761" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkpi3AeSvm4mTiYIMs5yseRDqPCNBn9nfDFqGs2gX9Nf6AvXNXqAw8rXokcJWfZdA-7DXLGUzAOKvws7T8goWfKFNjhwiZzVn2yYvxQy75KOYkGqkQVjEdRqPp6rE4eegrgRHbeWZFaBcZK_-EOuuY_A6SSPalBRP6UzaeD52VxJDYQTmMgEF8KLNwHA/w436-h640/field_garlic_forage_harvest_feast_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Forage, Harvest, Feast field garlic chapter" width="436" /></a></div><p>It's field garlic season, where we live, and perhaps where you are, too. This chive-like wild onion (<i>Allium vineale</i>) is a winter-through-spring weed in North America, but a very tasty one. And infinitely more sustainable than ramps (<i>Allium tricoccum</i>).</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6rhqZEOJA83S6DlLpvSycmrzm7x7Iz32RRwglGbADGhN5K1TNUJwyAghtZdsUr_f-xzQkn6NoDHNJUQzzg9MG2Ruq6v6LMWDpHw1XMrNREXB1mvdSDyqozAEC4N4SG1wYqaxLNNvSSO7qZnfRkY8RHXZYHXtz6u-X1LpoaNFER5MuY7kenLnFiimMIg/s1746/field_garlic_deviled_eggs_marie-viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1746" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6rhqZEOJA83S6DlLpvSycmrzm7x7Iz32RRwglGbADGhN5K1TNUJwyAghtZdsUr_f-xzQkn6NoDHNJUQzzg9MG2Ruq6v6LMWDpHw1XMrNREXB1mvdSDyqozAEC4N4SG1wYqaxLNNvSSO7qZnfRkY8RHXZYHXtz6u-X1LpoaNFER5MuY7kenLnFiimMIg/w440-h640/field_garlic_deviled_eggs_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Deviled eggs with field garlic" width="440" /></a></div><p>Eggs deviled, and destined for a picnic. Their yolky stuffing is laced with fresh field garlic, mustard, and mayonnaise.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8NSbcLcG83IhxWUDLBl3MpxszOORspmewCOkeXs0bTl_DVwFd3-qmfw2YnjXvdDQMKnUilYVieYXxBBU7q9PftWoG-6iHD9PrcatTiaahJwWRN3RJOVbAN31AM68Bw737aj8OLqTibglDjlpFBP31csCxFLTe96g3L04p5-8rtOSbQYhPHZWpTddOw/s1655/field_garlic_soup_marie-viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1655" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgD8NSbcLcG83IhxWUDLBl3MpxszOORspmewCOkeXs0bTl_DVwFd3-qmfw2YnjXvdDQMKnUilYVieYXxBBU7q9PftWoG-6iHD9PrcatTiaahJwWRN3RJOVbAN31AM68Bw737aj8OLqTibglDjlpFBP31csCxFLTe96g3L04p5-8rtOSbQYhPHZWpTddOw/w464-h640/field_garlic_soup_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Field garlic soup" width="464" /></a></div><br />And a deeply soothing soup. You'll find its recipe in my story about <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/field-garlic-sustainable-alternative-ramps/">field garlic for Gardenista</a> (and yes, you can substitute chives, or scallion greens).<p></p><p style="text-align: center;">_________________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">Classes:</span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">4 March, <a href="https://www.enrole.com/nybg/jsp/session.jsp?sessionId=233CCKG247&courseId=212CKG247&categoryId=11091">Winter Foraging at the NYBG</a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">11 March, <a href="https://66squarefeet.blogspot.com/p/plant-walks-picnics-classes.html">Sugar Moon in Inwood Hill Park</a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">20 March, <a href="https://66squarefeet.blogspot.com/p/plant-walks-picnics-classes.html">Vernal Equinox Social, Prospect Park</a></span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;">25 March, <a href="https://66squarefeet.blogspot.com/p/plant-walks-picnics-classes.html">Bud-Break at Historic Green-Wood</a></span></p><p><br /></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-88755638922918281722023-02-20T13:09:00.002-05:002023-02-20T13:22:51.913-05:00Nkwe Pirelli - a tale told in parts<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXlGIGLAVCYXX7ni6mPUfok_Ui5KEADwj0hNpGZDJafXNJxEtgbzB6RmQx48s5wlsJxnZSIsPk4x-BgGo6b-fFbC8F1fkhDLAnyRbu98bvaYuSM_gkc9QHsDeB3FNuEXD_1Y3a0O50miAUAF91iEGqiS8cogzW-llBEz58UEEpUmUQu6FPV_u2VtAlA/s1769/Nkwe%20Pirelli.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1769" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaXlGIGLAVCYXX7ni6mPUfok_Ui5KEADwj0hNpGZDJafXNJxEtgbzB6RmQx48s5wlsJxnZSIsPk4x-BgGo6b-fFbC8F1fkhDLAnyRbu98bvaYuSM_gkc9QHsDeB3FNuEXD_1Y3a0O50miAUAF91iEGqiS8cogzW-llBEz58UEEpUmUQu6FPV_u2VtAlA/w434-h640/Nkwe%20Pirelli.jpg" title="Nkwe Pirelli, King of String, by Marie Viljoen" width="434" /></a></div><p></p><p>Meet Nkwe Pirelli, King of String. King of Prrp. King of Peep. And the cat-formerly-known-as-Percy. Also Inky.</p><p>It's complicated.</p><p>I met him about four weeks ago at my friend <a href="Sassee is another cat rescuer, who cares for various cat colonies in Brooklyn. Vet records were forthcoming then, from The Brooklyn Bridge Animal Welfare Coalition whose records were for Inky-not-Percy. They showed that he had been vaccinated in October 2022 and was negative for rabies and feline HIV. The records also said he was (already) neutered). And microchipped. So...were Percy and Inky even the same cats? I pursued the microchip, whose number was noted in the records. The BBAWC told me the chip had been registered to a company now owned by 24 PetWatch. Their website looks fab. If a chip is registered to them they will contact the owner when (if) it is scanned and they are alerted, then they contact whoever is registered on the chip. I called. They had the chip on record, per the BBAWC. The agent I spoke to, Matt, updated the cat's name (Percy-for-now), and color, my contact details, and then told me that for 24PetWatch to activate this new info would cost $50 a year. Or I could pay $200 for a lifetime membership. I said, I thought this was free? The money didn't bother me, in itself, but their website states plainly that this transfer of info for an existing chip is free. He was audibly aggressive, saying I should pay right now. And he recommended the lifetime. I said just send me the link so I can think about it, please. You could almost hear him go ugh! over the phone. He sent the payment link, I thought about it, read more on the 24PetWatch website (free, it said, in more than one place). Called back, got a different agent, told them the story, and they said, "Actually...transfer of info is free." And said there are extra layers of service built into the fees, but that the basic alert-you-if-the-chip is scanned is gratis. They said, too, that there had been previous complaints about the Matt person. They sent me log in info and password, and, at least in theory, 24PetWatch will message me if the chip is scanned. But would you trust them to do that? I did some reading online about the company and came up with nothing but bad reviews. Like one-star. All saying the same thing. Damn.">Serena</a>'s house, where I was delivering duck soup to nourish her new knee after surgery. Last summer I spent some time visiting her two cats - black-and-white Susie, and tabby Tiger - to entertain them while she traveled, and to water her garden during New York's months-long drought. During the soup visit, I thought that the kitty at my feet was Susie, at first glance. Black and white. Then I looked again. About twice Susie's size. "This is Percy," Serena said, "Susie's kitten! He's two!" I sat down, and Percy jumped onto my lap, where he began purring. I made appreciative noises. He made air buns. "You should have him!" said Serena. I ignored her, assuming her pain medication was talking. </p><p>A few days later, still thinking about this confident cat, I suddenly wondered whether she <i>really</i> wanted a home for him. I messaged her. "Don't give him to anyone else!" The Frenchman and I had a Big Talk. I visited then-Percy again. Serena showed me videos of the little black-and-white and also grey kittens that Susie, a feral cat, had reared outside her window, in the street - Serena had fed them, and adopted Susie. She gave me what contact details she could for Patti, a cat rescuer who, she said, had spirited the kittens away for care, and who had also taken Percy for a vet visit (I wanted vet records, and was worried about feline HIV). I wasn't sure where Percy had been in the interim. </p><p>I messaged Patti, who said emphatically that no, she had not spirited away a bundle of kittens, but that she knew Percy, who was in fact not Percy, but <i>Inky. </i>And that she had given Inky into Sassee's care. </p><p>To be continued...</p><p style="text-align: center;">______________</p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-62573544928988817442023-02-15T10:53:00.010-05:002023-02-15T10:55:58.631-05:00Radishes - it's time<p style="text-align: center;"> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwNwK0vwGS9GBq_qBkKuIEPlbvDMxHnq1CPbcFLAZzakwW8UJ7rKoj_dQ2xX_ia3iBMw_JIEGQz-wtmoaWPe8LSCH71R2peQoLxmlcXAdiDmItPYNyEy413vyJG3K7W20dBYIHO_B9kqoMFSSo_6hT3cvECcRSc8yHXnw9iwy-dQBFPGVQtbs-_ft9w/s1505/Radish_eggs_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1505" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicwNwK0vwGS9GBq_qBkKuIEPlbvDMxHnq1CPbcFLAZzakwW8UJ7rKoj_dQ2xX_ia3iBMw_JIEGQz-wtmoaWPe8LSCH71R2peQoLxmlcXAdiDmItPYNyEy413vyJG3K7W20dBYIHO_B9kqoMFSSo_6hT3cvECcRSc8yHXnw9iwy-dQBFPGVQtbs-_ft9w/w510-h640/Radish_eggs_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Radish toast" width="510" /></a></p><p></p><p>I love radishes.</p><p>They have a remarkable affinity for eggs - high on my list of Loved Things. Also, toast. (Perhaps everything has an affinity for toast?)</p><p>They were the first vegetable I ever grew, as a very small person living in Bloemfontein, in the heart of South Africa. So there is that, too. </p><p>In our Cobble Hill days (the terrace of the original 66 square feet size) I raised them on our so-called <a href="https://66squarefeet.blogspot.com/search/label/Roof%20farm">roof farm</a> - a collection of pots where fava beans, peas, tomatoes, aubergines, peppers and raspberries grew. And this year I will sow them again, this time in the windowboxes on our Windsor Terrace...terrace (the neighborhood name makes its Instagram hashtag a cinch - <a href="https://www.instagram.com/explore/tags/thewindsorterrace/">#thewindsorterrace</a>). </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCT8gtzy-f1P1T8uIuPvvrciSY9Thrsyr_IBjIWeDBzl6OcXgjuNAVrIOkfpAhpwkH6e_ZwIbUehqSmzJWA6ChtiGnTKjnUwYKmQaJDLC6jZV_PJnX7cpxO86HTjGNRlM5iD1E2LrAGWjhxINs2pIzDAs6aSixBRi4CVNiPnQ9uooAFeTsrzDcwQUJwg/s1747/Radish_cheesy_eggs_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1747" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCT8gtzy-f1P1T8uIuPvvrciSY9Thrsyr_IBjIWeDBzl6OcXgjuNAVrIOkfpAhpwkH6e_ZwIbUehqSmzJWA6ChtiGnTKjnUwYKmQaJDLC6jZV_PJnX7cpxO86HTjGNRlM5iD1E2LrAGWjhxINs2pIzDAs6aSixBRi4CVNiPnQ9uooAFeTsrzDcwQUJwg/w440-h640/Radish_cheesy_eggs_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Radish recipe" width="440" /></a></div><p>It's been years since I grew and harvested my own radishes, so recently I spoke to two vegetable gardeners - Hemalatha Gokhale and Randi Rhoades - whose work I admire a <i>lot</i>, and listened to their radish-growing wisdom, for a story for Gardenista. You will find it in this link: <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/radishes-early-easy-delicious/">Radishes: Early, Easy, Delicious</a>.</p><p style="text-align: center;">_______________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: courier;"><a href="https://www.enrole.com/nybg/jsp/session.jsp?sessionId=233CCKG247&courseId=212CKG247&categoryId=11091">4 March - my NYBG Foraging Class</a></span></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-17483314066768093872023-01-24T14:42:00.002-05:002023-01-24T14:42:57.476-05:00Gold dust - good for breakfast, if you have it<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHpoqlbV0vdVNZVMgvJNs192j9kijxyuIAQyb3MODelsUl3USmfMVilPyHT8UVlhcYFK2x3J8aWeFhsyf79weFY09HjDfNxiYo6211hu4Xu7HBRmzPyJnklInu_ZbYHRtPYEcq1e9yhHeqY8UptvC3VGCcqVbZoxukrfkBAqHbOXQ6m-3EJh9Qx10Dg/s1828/cattails_pollen_powder_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1828" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvHpoqlbV0vdVNZVMgvJNs192j9kijxyuIAQyb3MODelsUl3USmfMVilPyHT8UVlhcYFK2x3J8aWeFhsyf79weFY09HjDfNxiYo6211hu4Xu7HBRmzPyJnklInu_ZbYHRtPYEcq1e9yhHeqY8UptvC3VGCcqVbZoxukrfkBAqHbOXQ6m-3EJh9Qx10Dg/w420-h640/cattails_pollen_powder_marie-viljoen.jpg" width="420" /></a></div><p>Cattail pollen. Collected in a Cape Town summer... In December I hunted down and cut cattail flowers (still green but beginning to shed pollen), sifted out their copious pollen, did some baking, and sealed most of the delicious, golden powder in a jar. Into the freezer it went to keep and to take home to Brooklyn. </p><p>Problem is, it's still there. And I am in grey Brooklyn.</p><p>That's the part I did <i>not</i> share in my story about <a href="https://www.gardenista.com/posts/let-the-sun_shine-in-cattail-pollen-in-the-kitchen/">edible cattail pollen for Gardenista</a>. The rest you can read in the link, plus two fine recipes for using this truly delicious wild ingredient.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFsiVshQOp47haDF2uE0ELW34nAl-RaqOQNy7PuoLwbqP69bYhaXxoOugc3pgnEdTWq8ssZj2mN6mEj2zgvaIJVEsManZX3s0JsUeLwDWYo2iV4XRzRBFzOsBI7Z5aDTgXkWzaK873BbOuqADEb8usQ-78Y47DqR-f32526cQxh6eqvIYNjkD2RbEUA/s1800/cattails_pollen_biscuits_marie-viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvFsiVshQOp47haDF2uE0ELW34nAl-RaqOQNy7PuoLwbqP69bYhaXxoOugc3pgnEdTWq8ssZj2mN6mEj2zgvaIJVEsManZX3s0JsUeLwDWYo2iV4XRzRBFzOsBI7Z5aDTgXkWzaK873BbOuqADEb8usQ-78Y47DqR-f32526cQxh6eqvIYNjkD2RbEUA/w426-h640/cattails_pollen_biscuits_marie-viljoen.jpg" title="Cattail pollen biscuits by Marie Viljoen" width="426" /></a></div><p>The story ends well (at least, fingers crossed). A - good, kind, generous - friend is going to collect it in Constantia, and hand it over to her brother who is making a flying visit, and who will soon land back in NYC. </p><p>So there <i>will</i> be cattail biscuits, blinis, crackers, and madeleines on forage picnic menus after all. And then early summer will arrive in this hemisphere, and perhaps I will have find another source of the roast-corn-flavored dust to play with.</p><p style="text-align: center;">_______________</p><p style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.amazon.com/stores/Marie-Viljoen/author/B00E7GNGMW"><span style="font-family: courier;">My Books - Wild-Inspired</span></a></p><p></p>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-75677592477551290852023-01-17T19:47:00.003-05:002023-01-17T19:47:32.785-05:00Out<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZRbXs7aejhrH_vSCD89ouR26QQ1UDHgqPCmhY8KgIhdq27CETkqspt5-RpJXvrxjG7OrK3Io7E4i-_9RZfFZsghFnEBrv-Z_OCeA2r2ThHWuBGhP1RphawXpevy67AvlVzPcnbtrZYRWkMZgUz6UVucTyYvpMBIYt_2A_0yR_2A0WFzwElUxcYhkzA/s1200/Low%20Tide%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsZRbXs7aejhrH_vSCD89ouR26QQ1UDHgqPCmhY8KgIhdq27CETkqspt5-RpJXvrxjG7OrK3Io7E4i-_9RZfFZsghFnEBrv-Z_OCeA2r2ThHWuBGhP1RphawXpevy67AvlVzPcnbtrZYRWkMZgUz6UVucTyYvpMBIYt_2A_0yR_2A0WFzwElUxcYhkzA/w640-h360/Low%20Tide%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Martin Luther King, Jr. Day. Cold, windy, but some sun. We walked four miles along another narrow barrier island, part of the Fire Island National Seashore.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zlU17VVH8QjEUTER9CLSeVR6YB-RrWuhTBQBb3SoMbYNOte7jkIdgZqtc9dofPJVRdeLvRqac2RQ0EGy2zLNLk65iEfPSOZ3dWDguTMM3VTTQiIPMau8XNMjIaX3L0LfR1RNts6WJUd2cVf5uWJev7-RK_wPtza6y28FlDODs8tkouxKGuaiOuVZvA/s1200/Winter%20Beach%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zlU17VVH8QjEUTER9CLSeVR6YB-RrWuhTBQBb3SoMbYNOte7jkIdgZqtc9dofPJVRdeLvRqac2RQ0EGy2zLNLk65iEfPSOZ3dWDguTMM3VTTQiIPMau8XNMjIaX3L0LfR1RNts6WJUd2cVf5uWJev7-RK_wPtza6y28FlDODs8tkouxKGuaiOuVZvA/w640-h360/Winter%20Beach%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">A wide sky, a waning crescent moon, an empty beach.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkEZ-JWAl4t2wHt4RXmQUz9iWzAQTmrxjVRR0cwq00hmn_o5JtT_xT_9nc_5agVHNillHJ6D7FlU6obKURJAtb4tfexvYQLAE-rnuKugWOLrmuixmFGXymU529--aAdsTh-qL0gIqKXxCQUDqWxWpYjGOeGqo6s6y7oVTWrH0XwETnw4tz6fZe05gjw/s2131/Smith%20Point%20County%20Park%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2131" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkEZ-JWAl4t2wHt4RXmQUz9iWzAQTmrxjVRR0cwq00hmn_o5JtT_xT_9nc_5agVHNillHJ6D7FlU6obKURJAtb4tfexvYQLAE-rnuKugWOLrmuixmFGXymU529--aAdsTh-qL0gIqKXxCQUDqWxWpYjGOeGqo6s6y7oVTWrH0XwETnw4tz6fZe05gjw/w360-h640/Smith%20Point%20County%20Park%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="360" /></a></div><div><br /></div>We saw no fox, no snowy owl. Five sanderlings scurried ahead of us, skirting the creamy foam.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6vNvMauObBSNxmrriwwO-8VRbw1B-oyoxUZRnuAK3mgKecXM8o4yGW7OAr1GGDkkyiRoZmiIXPJXX2a5H9hHj9PhYGv3PWU0g3NbxNNJzH01oMu09iYJQ_onrSQDh-a7f7TJ76N-5HnsskZzE5CP_93sP2VZF7sPDwruvDUckshVQpP3W4GMElLtyw/s1200/Fire%20Island%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="676" data-original-width="1200" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz6vNvMauObBSNxmrriwwO-8VRbw1B-oyoxUZRnuAK3mgKecXM8o4yGW7OAr1GGDkkyiRoZmiIXPJXX2a5H9hHj9PhYGv3PWU0g3NbxNNJzH01oMu09iYJQ_onrSQDh-a7f7TJ76N-5HnsskZzE5CP_93sP2VZF7sPDwruvDUckshVQpP3W4GMElLtyw/w640-h360/Fire%20Island%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><div><br /></div>As much as our outdoor winter lives in New York lead us to places where we see endless horizons under unencumbered skies, our indoor lives are inverse. Insulated, warm, domestic. You might say cosy. At home, we have withdrawn. Out, we walk to find what makes out hearts beat.</div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqjdiq65sb88dId83_iVLSOyASg9-vucwyxquoevG7yi4n4Z8_K9Ft7xhbAfhUpa4VlfsPayotegNoBJn0n3LYHNzdMeawCHzRQhBsFZQ2Xf_rTntZETxJIw0XA0nowF7n4ysK8y2Ony1hp7n1bqgk40UKOo_5l8As1RBkwQxZw1d6z0nJJb7nz2nDw/s1600/Faux%20Fur%20TRapper%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlqjdiq65sb88dId83_iVLSOyASg9-vucwyxquoevG7yi4n4Z8_K9Ft7xhbAfhUpa4VlfsPayotegNoBJn0n3LYHNzdMeawCHzRQhBsFZQ2Xf_rTntZETxJIw0XA0nowF7n4ysK8y2Ony1hp7n1bqgk40UKOo_5l8As1RBkwQxZw1d6z0nJJb7nz2nDw/w480-h640/Faux%20Fur%20TRapper%20-%20Marie%20Viljoen.jpg" width="480" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">And yes. Sometimes it is very cold.</div></div><div style="text-align: center;">______________</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8603107829473043654.post-9929720587187542922023-01-11T18:45:00.004-05:002023-01-11T18:45:35.847-05:00Once, it was summer<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGF5xq0KiGuOTsevdfGZiZfBCbduGc3zsCOaEse40RH8qHjZ9o0UxHoL-wBhx0QSHgISjYXNUzHCObGRybqnKt_26cyQxx_anDYIv_AKuKymQyt8bynj5zg_n0PSKDSryoE2uhPlI__NR24BgdMT_nx28IxSVXwjku9XLHo64LtQpGDkS0I0NCYsDKA/s1800/brooklyn%20terrace%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1800" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGF5xq0KiGuOTsevdfGZiZfBCbduGc3zsCOaEse40RH8qHjZ9o0UxHoL-wBhx0QSHgISjYXNUzHCObGRybqnKt_26cyQxx_anDYIv_AKuKymQyt8bynj5zg_n0PSKDSryoE2uhPlI__NR24BgdMT_nx28IxSVXwjku9XLHo64LtQpGDkS0I0NCYsDKA/w426-h640/brooklyn%20terrace%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="426" /></a></div><p>Wait, what, summer? </p><p>Tidying up photographs, cleaning one of the two memory sticks I use in my Canon, I find myself drawn into meals eaten, seasons lived, flowers in bloom. This was June 2021. Yup - I have a <i>lot</i> of tidying to do. The terrace, and what is clearly a warm weather supper. The Frenchman's T-shirted arm pouring cold Sauvignon blanc. Salad - a deconstructed salade Niçoise. Grated carrot? I know. I take liberties (it was soused in lemon juice, with some chile flakes added - try it). </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHSL19OagPo3-BP7YAUDnKX-TIQn_7M6RphWgaPTMb3mpcAxK05YChMRBsrsbt3SI36KpXp53nnUxMt-grIJWoMwCBr8J1PAIgSIjpYeCDuvydepxTC4km4UCXmLHfj4TIo2L3uCTBrIi_GNG29-kpuiE2W3NJ6tBLTw96xwAPNrYoV2oJMVzyRqpgg/s1200/salade%20nicoise%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUHSL19OagPo3-BP7YAUDnKX-TIQn_7M6RphWgaPTMb3mpcAxK05YChMRBsrsbt3SI36KpXp53nnUxMt-grIJWoMwCBr8J1PAIgSIjpYeCDuvydepxTC4km4UCXmLHfj4TIo2L3uCTBrIi_GNG29-kpuiE2W3NJ6tBLTw96xwAPNrYoV2oJMVzyRqpgg/w640-h426/salade%20nicoise%20-%20marie%20viljoen.jpg" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div>I see radishes, too, halved cherry tomatoes and at the back - either eggs or potatoes? Maybe eggs on <i>top</i> of potatoes? And leaves. The tuna is always packed in olive oil, but was it Cento? Probably. The first purple basil from the garden. I usually only plant it in late May and have to restrain myself as it establishes itself.</div><div><br /></div><div>Formosa lilies. They will bloom again, if they made it through the freak deep freeze of December. January is as freakily mild. Who knows what February holds?</div><div><br /></div><div>But terrace days will come again.</div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">______________</div>Mariehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13632520557553405790noreply@blogger.com1