• the quotidian (8.19.13)

    Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
    everyday; ordinary; commonplace

    Unidentified fruit: it tastes like slightly sweet, watery styrofoam.
    THIS CAKE. 
    I have made it three times in the last week. 
    I think about it all the time. 
    I eat it all the time. 
    I’ve contemplated dedicating an entire blog post to 
    expound upon its glory even though I’ve already done that
    Seriously, people. 
    This zucchini cake, with its 100 percent whole wheat, puddles of soft chocolate, 
    and crunchy coconut cap, reigns supreme. 
    You. Must. Make. It. Period. Exclamation Point.
    !!!!!!!!
     
    Solution to an overly sunny hammock nest.
    Selling something. 
    (Psst! Hey kids! We live on a driveway, not a road!)
    Waiting to go to church and listening to Farmer Boy.
    Letting his freak flag fly: my Class-A Dork.

    A chipped tooth (the star marks the spot): what happens when your friend 
    shoots you in the face with a BB gun.
    (Also, shark mouth. I am so ready to resume his orthodontia treatments.)
    I made her let me play with her hair again.

    A copper crown for Sunday morning.
  • starfruit smoothie

    Recently, heaped baskets of starfruit, or carambola, have infiltrated the market. I never worked with starfruit before. And up until this year, I don’t think I had ever tasted one, either.

    perfectly ripe: yellow, firm, and tinged with brown

    We had starfruit smoothies in Masaya and were quite smitten by the sliver of starfruit perched on the lip of the glass. It lent a magical quality to the whole affair. Like maybe there were fairies hovering by the blender.

    Starfruit and pitaya: it doesn’t get more tropical than this.

    The smoothies were delicious, and the raw fruit garnish tasted good, too. Crisp, juicy, and clean. They say starfruit is like a cross between apples and grapes in both taste and texture. It sounds complicated, but it’s true. Take one bite and you’ll see.

    Since I was a novice at handling starfruit, I first watched two youtube videos—one on how to cut up a starfruit and the other on how to use it in a smoothie—before proceeding. I thought it’d be a tricky process, what with the five pointy sides. But it’s really quite easy.

    First, wash the fruit.

    Second, chop off the ends as you do a cucumber.

    Third, run a knife along each of the five ridges to remove the peak of each strip. You can eat the entire fruit, but that part is a little on the tough side.

    Fourth, slice the fruit into rounds, er, stars.

    Fifth, using a knife, poke out the seeds. The seeds are edible, but we’re aiming for a creamy smoothie, so out they go.

    Once you have a cup or two of stars, you can eat them straight up or toss them in the blender with any combination of fruit. I did a simple smoothie—bananas, starfruit, sugar, and milk—but there are so many wonderful options. Use coconut milk or yogurt in place of the milk. Or add in a mango, strawberries, or fresh pineapple.

    The starfruit gives the smoothie some tang and a boost of light brightness. And, according to wiki, lots of good stuff like potassium, antioxidants, and vitamin C. (Oh, and wiki says the fruit tastes like a mix between apples, grapes, pears, and citrus. In other words, it’s an entire fruit salad unto itself.)

    I want to purchase more carambola and use them in cooking…though I’m not sure how. Do any of you have experience working with this fruit? Any good recipes to share?

    Starfruit Smoothie

    2 starfruit, prepped, seeded, and sliced, several slices reserved for garnish
    3 bananas, frozen
    2-3 tablespoons sugar
    1½ – 2 cups milk

    Dump all ingredients into a blender and whirl until smooth. Divide between 3 or 4 glasses. Garnish each glass with a fruity star, pop in a straw, and serve.

  • from market to table

    Friday morning, my husband and I walked into town. It was raining. We were both wielding umbrellas which made companionable walking a bit of a challenge. No one lost an eye, though.

    Once in town, we went our separate ways: him to pick up a box at the bus station and me to squeeze my way through the market and juggle money, list, umbrella, and big heavy bags of produce.

    Fridays have become my main market day. We stop by the market for necessities on a daily basis, but even so, by the end of the week the refrigerator is pretty bare. All the vegetables and fruit that we eat come into our home in raw form and only as much as we can carry comfortably in our hands or haul in a taxi. In other words—and I’ve said this before—there is no stockpiling bushels of potatoes, canning up jars of spaghetti sauce and peaches, or freezing bags of broccoli and blueberries.

    This means there is nothing to pull from when making a meal. You want a green vegetable? Then buy a pound of green beans, snap them, and cook them up. Some fruit to round out a meal? Get a pineapple and chop it up.

    It’s taken me about seven months to get used to this new form of buying and cooking. I think I’m finally catching on.

    Wednesday and Thursday are busy days at Bezaleel, leaving me with hardly any time to cook, let alone forage for food. So come Friday, the market is a priority.

    Here’s what I picked up last week: 9 oranges, 3 pounds of potatoes, 4 pounds of apples, 1 bunch of squash leaves, 1 pineapple, 1 pound of onions, 2 pounds of tomatoes, 2 starfruit, 1 bag of tostados, 2 carrots, 1 cucumber, 1 bunch of cilantro, 10 mandarin oranges, 3 limes, 2 tree tomatoes, 3 peppers, 1 pound of green beans, 4 peaches, 1 tayuyo, and 1 ounce of dried chilis,

    After the kids got home from school, I spent the next several hours getting the food a step closer to being edible. I made a chili sauce, cut up a carrot for the kids’ snack, stewed the squash leaves into a soup (more on that later), cooked a pot of rice, and roasted some onions, peppers, carrots, zucchini, and a giant head of broccoli for the supper’s stir-fry. I also made a zucchini cake.

    Saturday morning, the cooking storm continued with bread, a big pot of dried beans with onions, garlic, and dried chilis, pie crust (so an apple pie is just that much closer to being a reality!), and starfruit smoothies. I also put away the granola I had started the morning before. Oh, and there were breakfast pancakes, too.

    There is still a lot of work to do to finish readying the market purchases for consumption: cutting up the pineapple (a simple task, but one I hate), that pie, snapping the green beans, and figuring out a plan for the potatoes, peaches, cilantro, limes, tomatoes, cucumbers, and carrots. But at least I’ve made a dent. The new week will begin with a well-stocked refrigerator—full of both cooked food and produce—and an overflowing fruit bowl.

    For sure, I think longingly of my freezers back home. Two big ones filled with containers of soup and pesto, bags of broccoli and peas and corn, jars of meatballs and roasted tomatoes, boxes of strawberries and applesauce! Just thaw, heat, and eat! What a novelty! What a luxury!

    However, when I leave here I’ll probably miss the abundance of fresh food and the simplicity of having all my cooking options laid out right before my eyes on the concrete patio floor, no secrets, no surprises.

    Neither style is easy. Both take work. In Virginia, my summers are crammed with growing, harvesting, and putting up. In Guatemala, I do it from scratch (minus the growing, thank goodness) on a daily basis.

    What’s your method for getting fruits and veggies to the supper table? Do you buy lots of produce on a weekly basis, year round, cooking it up as you go? Or do you prefer to stockpile for quick meals?