Let them eat fruitcake

I started baking fruitcakes about five weeks ago. A first, for me. When I was little the Christmas cake held little appeal for me, despite the effort and time that went into it, on my mother's part (I did like the marzipan, though) - too much fruit and too little cake, perhaps? And since then I have grown out of any sweet tooth I may have had, and rarely eat cakes and cookies and candies at all. But I wanted to give some home made gifts this year, and 'tis the season. So.

One cake will be reserved for ourselves, and the rest will be gifts, to be delivered around the neighborhood: our landlord, our building's managing agent, local friends.

Sahadi's had beautiful glacé citrons, which I have never seen, before; their flavour is quite unlike candied orange and lemon zest. The other fruits were big, fat, moist dates, raisins, currants, startlingly red cherries (is there ever a natural-colour option?), the aforementioned orange and lemon zest, plus pecans and almonds. For spice - mahlab and cinnamon, which work well together.

There is not much flour, compared to fruit, a flour to fruit ratio of about 1:8

There are loaves, large and small, and there are little round cakes. They are all dense and heavy. They are sprinkled with brandy every week, and live wrapped in linen (antique handkerchiefs with handrolled edges- I knew I was keeping them for a reason! - they came from a long-shuttered junk shop on 5th Avenue in Brooklyn), then wrapped in clingfilm and finally put into airtight containers. The smell when you pop the lid is wonderful - fruity and spicy and very good.

I could not resist trying one of the small ones last night. You just need a thin slice or two - they are very filling, and what you crave after  a long walk, with tea. Or Grand Marnier. Maybe I can save one or two for my Frigid Forage on New Year's Day.

Someone said that fruitcake pairs very well with Wensleydale cheese. Has anyone tried that?

One cake has already been delivered to its new home, in Park Slope - a gift brought along for a Christmas party. Somewhere in there is a dollar coin, washed and dipped in brandy.

That royal icing is rock hard, over a layer of thin marzipan, which was coaxed to stay put with a brushing of rosehip jelly. And clearly I am no master mason; more of a spackler.

(The gorgeous ribbon is a gift from my friend Mustafa, who brings silky wheels of it from Istanbul to wherever he is going, for ribbon-lovers.)

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                 Book a Frigid Forage - New Year's Day

Dog of the day

Whippet pajamas.

On Atlantic Avenue, outside Atlantic Fruit and Veg., tonight.

Later, after I had shopped, I passed the walking whippet, with his owner, a tall man of the same vintage (once dog and man years have been calibrated), walking east, with their shopping cart.

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                 Book a Frigid Forage - New Year's Day

The front

For record-keeping purposes, here is a Before picture. It does not look like anything, right now. Except...before there was this, there really was nothing.

This is the south-facing front of the house - where junipers and trimmed Taxus (yew) are dotted about in a gravel desert. But behind them was an empty little piece of earth with some weeds, and our windows look onto it. So. For some more privacy, and mostly for flowers and for pollinator-friendliness, I planted. I know. It's crazy. We rent. But prettiness wins.

I couldn't help it.

And fall is an excellent time to get started.

I am hoping that the perennials I have chosen survive both winter - if we ever have winter - and also the soil, which is an unknown. It is very dense, packs like concrete when watered, looks poor, has lots of gravel, and in some places plastic was put down to suppress weeds, so I have left that. I am not investing in the soil in the front, but I have added a mulch of fallen leaves and added Plant Tone, too. And I have watered with a watering can when planting. Mostly, I have planted in two's (threes would be better) so that one plant type grows into one big clump. In theory. From the street it will be mostly invisible, - as you can see, below - but if it fills out it will be a nice spot for cup of coffee. Or a cocktail.

So, chosen for sun-preference, toughness and drought tolerance:

Some North Americans: Agastache 'Blue Fortune,' which grows tall and has plenty of bee power in its long-lasting blue blooms; pink Echinacea 'Pow Wow' and some gifted nameless ones, for their conspicuous flowers, plus bee friendliness, again; Amsonia, because I have always wanted Amsonia, and the little blue flowers in mid spring will be welcome, followed by lush and fine leaf texture and very nice golden fall foliage. For fall, golden rod (Solidago) and asters.

Exotics? Calamintha, because it is the hardiest perennial I know and I can think of nothing that blooms so prolifically for so long. Bees love it, and it has those minty leaves; clarey sage (Salvia sclarea)- a biennial with wide grey leaves and which will send up very tall flower spikes, giving wonderful height. Oreganum laevigatum 'Herrenhausen' - I could not resist the winter-purple leaves at Gowanus Nursery and I was given an excellent deal, at the tail end of the growing season. Plus thyme and marjoram, and perhaps other herbs, later.

From the back garden, a flopping sedum of the 'Autumn Joy' type - it made lots of flowers but needed more sun; and day lilies, probably Hemerocallis fulva, so orange (and edible) flowers.

Sunland.

Next picture in May? That is a very long wait.

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                 Book a Frigid Forage - New Year's Day

Domestica

Weekend cocktails of a dark evening: martini for him, with lemon-garlic olives. And an Inverroche gin, Northeast Vermouth No. 1 (raspberries made it pink) and quince syrup concoction for me (still nameless).

That first vermouth is one I made last summer in Harlem, and we still have one bottle - it is packed with herbs and spices, including the indigenous American ones I have come to love: sumac, bayberry, spicebush. The syrup was a pretty gift from a Japanese lady who attends many of my forage walks and who is a delightful source of treats such as pickled ume plums, ume syrup, and this seasonal syrup. Maybe the cocktail should be a Quince Kiyoko.

The cauliflower I steamed, then pureed in the food processor with a little butter and a splash of cream. You have to work it quite a while before it is perfectly smooth. It was a bed for slices of a Friday night roast chicken and its delicious pan juices.

The hazelnuts became a cake:

In early autumn I went to a house warming party in Harlem, given by our former upstairs neighbor and friend, Wolfgang, who also had to move, and who relocated further north. Along with bubbly and Campari and fresh rolls topped with smoked meats he served the most wonderful hazelnut cake; I had just led a long forage walk in Central Park and wolfed my slice - moist, nutty, an aroma of orange. He was kind enough to give me the recipe, which is his mother's. My chocolate icing was not as beautiful as his but I know what to do next time. I added the cranberries that I candied last week (it took six days - gentle heat, fridge, gentle heat, fridge, increasing the sugar every time), and took the cake to dinner with friends last night, a 10 minute walk, door to door, whereas before it would have taken an hour's subway ride from Harlem).

Today is all about plants (at least for me; the Frenchman is building himself a new computer from scratch - hey, he likes it). A very generous gift of plants and pots from a gardening neighbour arrived yesterday, ranging from echinacea and columbines to a tall potted willow. And there are some goodies waiting for me at the Gowanus Nursery.

I must get them into the ground and into place.

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New Year's Day Forage Walk

The December salad bar is still open

Above, a second sowing of arugula, planted in late September.

Remember the variegated arugula plant? Still going strong - and most of our salads come from this first sowing, planted when we moved in, in late August, and enjoyed as early as September.

The second sowing of red mustard.

And at last! The mâche (lambs lettuce) came up once the temperatures dipped regularly overnight. 

I still pick fava bean shoots every week. I will leave them in the ground, and maybe they'll add a nice bit of nitrogen to the soil.

The fenugreek is surprisingly cold hardy, but we have only had one or two frosts. The weather has been unusually mild.

Unless I need radicchio or crave a crunchy Romaine, I do not buy salad leaves anymore, for our nightly salad. Which is wonderful. I grew a lot of gorgeous greens in our roof farm pots, in full sun, but this amount of in-ground space does make a big difference, and I am very relieved that the leaves seem to do well with no sun at this time of year - what you see in the last photo is reflected from the windows of the houses opposite us (where Beeskwee - actually Biscuit - the barking golden retriever lives).

I wish we could be like Italy and Norway, and install giant mirrors on the neighboring rooftops, to direct humane daytime sun into our shadowed valley.

In the spring I shall expand the salad selections...

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New Year's Day Forage Walk

Contact

Well, yes. I have.

I don't suppose they'd give him back, if I called.

Judging by the triple 6 in the phone number I'm guessing this is a hoax, anyway.

I was thinking what to do with Estorbo's ashes. It makes no sense to hang onto them. They live in a lurid little purple gift bag from the pet crematorium, in the back of a closet. Along with a clay-impressed paw print given to us by his well meaning vet, but which I cannot bear to look at.

Two options appeal to me: Scatter the ashes on his old rooftop, where he hunted and jumped and observed the world. Then he'd blow about in the wind that made him flatten his ears. Or put them on a little paper boat (the Frenchman is very good at making them) and float him into the Buttermilk Channel (between Brooklyn and Governor's Island), about which he used to tell tall tales - he herded his cattle over there for summer grazing. That would be neater, and would also ensure that no one inhaled cat dust by accident.

And if you have no idea what I'm going on about, hold steady. Regular programming will be back, shortly.

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New Year's Day Forage Walk

Cape sumach - Colpoon compressum

Just to throw everyone into confusion, here is an early Cape Town summer (one year ago, exactly).

This appealing fruit belongs to Colpoon compressum. I found it above Kirstenbosch, and fell in love.

While edible, the shrub is little known, now, and little used, though I am sure my local foraging friends will change that, once they find it.

It has suffered a couple of botanical name changes - one previous classification is Osyris compressa, by which much literature still knows it (Tony Rebelo set me straight, on iSpot). Common names include Cape sumach, and wild plum. It is less sumac-y in the sour sense than plumlike: the flavour is sweet and dark, and the seeds large. I ate as I walked.

Colpoon is one of those largely ignored or unknown shrubs that ought to be used more in Cape Town's gardens; it is drought- and wind-tolerant, both excellent attributes for a plant hanging on in the wind-whipped summer Cape Flats and mountain edges.

If I had enough fruit for a large haul I'd ferment it for a wild soda pop, and keep it a little longer for an alcoholic and effervescent buzz. Or puree and strain it for fresh fruit sauces and jams.

And that was the brief summer intermission.

Back to a Northern winter, soon. If it ever arrives.