China Bayles' Book of Days (18 page)

The tree itself has a lovely shape and color—twisted trunk, pale green canopy, tiny bee-laden flowers in May and clusters of beans in September. And I love the idea that mesquite always knows when spring has come and it’s safe to put out leaves. No late freeze, say the dozens of mesquites here at Meadow Knoll. Warm days ahead, and blue skies, and inevitably, summer. And mesquite beans. Oh, yes, and jelly.

Read more about mesquite:

The Magnificent Mesquite
, by Ken E. Rogers

When in the spring, [mesquite] trees and bushes put on their delicately green, transparent leaves and the mild sun shines upon them, they are more beautiful than any peach orchard. The green seems to float through the young sunlight into the sky. The mesquite is itself a poem.

—J. FRANK DOBIE, SOUTHWESTERN FOLKLORIST

MARCH 23

Today is National Chip and Dip Day.

Spring is nature’s way of saying, “Let’s party!”

—ROBIN WILLIAMS

The Merryweathers Dip Their Chips

The Pecan Springs herbies are always looking for an excuse for a party, so when Millie Winswell proposed that everybody bring a favorite dip to the March meeting to celebrate Chip and Dip Day, there was instant and unanimous agreement. Things got even more exciting when Bitsie Rae Smith suggested a competition. Who would do the judging? What was the prize? When nobody wanted to take on the politically challenging task of judging, it was decided that everybody would judge, and cast votes for the top three. Bitsie Rae objected that everybody would vote for her own dip as number 1, but Pansy Pride pointed out that since this was true, it wouldn’t matter—all those votes would cancel one another out. Pansy also suggested that the prize ought to be a secret until the magic moment when it was awarded. Everybody agreed to this, and they all went home to whip up their dips.

So who won?

Well, it was close, I’ll tell you, and the judging took quite awhile. But finally the last chip had been dipped and the last veggie dunked and the final vote was cast. And Denise Dolittle’s entry, A Dilly of a Smoked Salmon Dip, came out on top, by the narrow margin of three votes. Which just goes to show, Pansy Pride said, when she rose to award the grand prize, that everybody’s dip was a winner. Here’s how Denise did it:

A DILLY OF A SMOKED SALMON DIP

1½ cups flaked smoked salmon
¾ cup mayonnaise
½ cup sour cream
3 tablespoons chopped sun-dried tomatoes
3 tablespoons chopped fresh dill
2 tablespoons prepared horseradish
2 tablespoons finely minced green onion tops
salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in a bowl. Cover and chill at least 2 hours. Stir before serving. Makes about 2¾ cups. Serve with chips, crackers, raw veggies, and other dippables.

And the Grand Prize? It was wheeled out in a little red wagon, wrapped and tied with a fancy green bow. Everybody waited expectantly, holding her breath, while Denise pulled off the wrapping paper. And then they let their breath out, all at once, and everybody began to giggle, because the Grand Prize was . . .

Yep, you guessed it.

Harold Thompson’s concrete armadillo.

MARCH 24

It’s not easy being green.

—KERMIT THE FROG

French Green

It’s time for some green. Green French sorrel, that is.
Rumex scutatus
, that fresh-tasting, tart perennial herb that may be putting up its first green leaves in your garden. (Or you might have a larger-leafed garden sorrel,
Rumex acetosa
, with a not-so-tart taste.) Most cooks prefer French sorrel for that first green soup of spring: lemony-tart, crisp-tasting, and loaded with vitamin C. Here’s a recipe for a tasty soup that’s easy and quick to make. (See, Kermit? It’s actually easy to be green!)

SPRING GREEN SORREL SOUP

3 cups vegetable broth
2 tablespoons instant white rice, uncooked
1 bunch sorrel, stemmed and rinsed
½ cup half-and-half
salt and pepper to taste

Bring vegetable broth to a boil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Stir in rice, reduce to a simmer, and cook for 8-10 minutes, until rice is nearly done. Stir in sorrel and return to a boil. Remove from heat and puree in two or three batches in a blender. Return to low heat and stir in half-and-half, salt, and pepper. Heat and serve. Makes 6 servings.

Other uses for sorrel:

• mix with other greens for a salad

• add it to potato soup

• include it in a tangy sauce for poultry or fish

• add it to sandwiches with cream cheese and sliced tomatoes

• use as a garnish for salmon and tuna

• use a fresh leaf to soothe a canker sore

• the juice curdles milk, and has been used as a substitute for rennet in cheese making

• was used to staunch bleeding and to treat scurvy

Read more about sorrel and other spring potherbs:

The Greens Book
, by Susan Belsinger and Carolyn Dille

Our country people used to beat the herb [sorrel] to a mash and take it mixed with vinegar and sugar, as a green sauce with cold meat, hence one of its popular names: Greensauce. Because of their acidity, the leaves, treated as spinach, make a capital dressing with stewed lamb, veal or sweetbread. A few of the leaves may also with advantage be added to turnips and spinach. When boiled by itself, without water, it serves as an excellent accompaniment to roast goose or pork, instead of apple sauce.

—MRS. MAUD GRIEVE, A MODERN HERBAL, 1931

MARCH 25

Today is National Waffle Day.

The waffle is descended from the oublie, a flat cake cooked between two hot plates and stamped with a crucifix, used in the celebration of the Eucharist. Sometime in the thirteenth century, a craftsman forged the plates in a honeycomb pattern; in Holland, the resulting cake was called a wafel. The word seems to have first appeared in America in 1744, when a lady remarked: “I was not a little grieved that so luxurious a feast should have come under the name of a wafel frolic.”

A Waffle Frolic

There’s no rule that says that waffles are just for breakfast. Why not celebrate National Waffle Day by throwing a waffle frolic? Herbed waffles for brunch, lunch, or supper are bound to get rave reviews from anybody lucky enough to enjoy a plateful.

WAFFLES WITH SAVORY HERBS

5 ounces unsalted butter
1½ cups milk
2 eggs, lightly beaten
2 tablespoons minced fresh chives
1 tablespoon minced fresh thyme
1 tablespoon minced fresh parsley
1 tablespoon minced fresh sage

2 cups flour
4 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar

Heat butter and milk until butter is melted. Cool slightly. Whisk eggs into butter/milk mixture. Stir in fresh herbs. Sift dry ingredients together and add to liquid ingredients, stirring just to mix. Bake waffles according to waffle iron instructions, greasing iron well. Excellent with creamed chicken. Serves 4.

Four frolicsome toppers for waffles:

• smoked salmon and snipped dill with cream cheese

• chopped tomato, chopped scallions, basil

• avocado, sun-dried tomatoes, pine nuts, oregano

• poached eggs, artichoke hearts, snipped fresh parsley, chives, and thyme

Cook up some waffles and pancakes:

Pancakes and Waffles,
by Lou Seibert Pappas

A windy and a dry March is good for corn but evil for old folks and child-bearing women.

—DOVE’S ALMANACK, 1627

MARCH 26

Rhubarb Isn’t for Everybody

This truth was impressed upon me as a child, when my mother grew rhubarb in the garden. She called it pie plant, and made it into a pie. I made for my bedroom. I’d rather do my homework than eat rhubarb pie. I thought it tasted like medicine.

No wonder. Some five millennia ago, the Chinese and Russians were using dried, powdered rhubarb root as an effective laxative. They considered this plant enormously valuable, and used it as a cure-all for everything from the plague to the stomachache. When Marco Polo returned from China in the late thirteenth century, he brought back reports of this miracle plant, which whetted everyone’s appetite for it. But the dried root wasn’t easy to transport and the plant itself didn’t thrive in Europe. What’s more, the Chinese and Russians didn’t take kindly to foreigners who wanted their rhubarb. By the time of Henry VIII, rhubarb—when you could get it—was almost worth its weight in gold.

But the price of rhubarb was about to take a dive. In the 1630s, Sir Matthew Lister brought a Siberian variety to England. For a while, the plant was cultivated only for the root, which was used as a laxative even though it was only a relative of the storied Chinese rhubarb. But in a cold climate where fresh fruits were impossible to obtain in winter, its tart, fresh taste was a treat. And since rhubarb is high in vitamin C, it was a healthy addition to the dinner table. The rhubarb we grow in our gardens is no longer considered a medicinal herb. And the leaves aren’t edible, for they contain oxalic acid. But the stalks are used, with plenty of sugar, to make pretty ruby-colored pies, jams, sauces, and even wine.

And now that I’m older and maybe a little wiser, I like rhubarb just fine, especially when China bakes her rhubarb streusel pie.

CHINA’S RHUBARB STREUSEL PIE

1 unbaked pie shell
1½ cups frozen rhubarb, diced
1 cup granulated sugar
4 tablespoons flour
1 egg, beaten
½ cup brown sugar
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon nutmeg
2 tablespoons margarine

Mix rhubarb, granulated sugar, 2 tablespoons of the flour, and egg. Pour into pie shell. Mix brown sugar, the remaining 2 tablespoons flour, spices, and margarine, and sprinkle it over the top. Bake at 425° for 15 minutes, then at 350° for 30 minutes longer. Serve warm, with ice cream or whipped cream.

Read more about the history and migrations of rhubarb:

Rhubarb: The Wondrous Drug
, by Clifford M. Foust

MARCH 27

When Easter comes in early April, Palm Sunday falls in late March.

And on the next day much people that were come to the feast, when they heard that Jesus was coming to Jerusalem, took branches of palm trees and went forth to meet him, and cried, Hosanna: Blessed is the King of Israel that cometh in the name of the Lord.

—JOHN 12:12-13

“As Many Uses as There Are Days in the Year”

On the Sunday before Easter (the fifth Sunday of Lent), Christians remember Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem, when he was greeted by cheering crowds waving palms. Traditionally, in many Christian churches, palm crosses are carried in processions, blessed, and given to be taken home.

The palm tree of the Bible is the date palm,
Phoenix dactylifera
. Its leaves were used to cover the roofs of houses, its trunk was used for timber, rope was made from the fibers of the crown, and the fruit was one of the region’s major food staples. Both wine and an intoxicating drink (called “honey” by the Hebrews) was brewed from the flowers, and the leaves were ritually strewn in processions. Dates were used as a healing salve, a cardiac stimulant, and as a treatment in respiratory disorders. The ancient Arab saying that the palm tree has as many uses as there are days in the year seems quite literally true. So if you live in a tropical climate and have palms in your yard or your neighborhood, smile when you see them and remember that these herbal trees have blessed humans since the beginning.

THE “ENGLISH PALM”

In England and Europe, Palm Sunday was celebrated with other kinds of early-flowering greenery: box, yew, and especially branches of pussy willow, also called the “English palm.” In many places, young people went “a-Palming” at dawn, returning to the church with willow boughs and wearing catkins in their hair. (This custom was not always pious. John Aubrey, in his
Miscellanies
(1696) remarked dryly: “This day gives many a Conception.”) Once blessed, the greenery was taken home and hung up in the house, where it would protect the family from evil all through the year.

Read more about palms:

Plants of the Bible
, by Harold N. Moldenke and Alma L. Moldenke

Balls for Lent. Grate white bread, nutmeg, salt, shred parsley, a very little thyme, and a little orange or lemon-peel cut small; make them up into balls with beaten eggs, or you may add a spoonful of Cream; and roll them up in flour, and fry them.

—E. SMITH, THE COMPLEAT HOUSEWIFE, 1736

MARCH 28

Feelings, whether of compassion or irritation, should be welcomed, recognized, and treated on an absolutely equal basis; because both are ourselves. The tangerine I am eating is me. The mustard greens I am planting are me. I plant with all my heart and mind. I clean this teapot with the kind of attention I would have were I giving the baby Buddha or Jesus a bath. Nothing should be treated more carefully than anything else. In mindfulness, compassion, irritation, mustard green plant, and teapot are all sacred.