Almost too pretty to drink: Mint + Rose Infusion

This gorgeous infusion is inspired by a recipe from Gayla at You Grow Girl in her book by the same name. (Did you know you can also follow her on twitter? Follow @yougrowgirl.)

The recipe is basically this:

1. Put some edible herbs (like mint, lavender, lemon balm) in a clean jar.

2. Cover with tepid water.

3. Set the jar out in the sun for 3 - 6 hours. Viola! Tea.

From this process you get a subtly infused tea. Gayla recommends this method over boiling the herbs as extreme heat can bring out bitter oils in the plants and ruin the infusion.

Also, make sure the plants are clean and take the tea inside after about 6 hours and put it in the fridge, so you don't get bacteria buildup.

A friend gave me a giant container of edibles in the spring and it included spearmint. Guess what I've now got coming out of my ears? Mint is practically a weed, it grows so quickly and is so aggressive. (Good thing I love mohitos.) If you want to grow it, and I absolutely recommend it for its versatility (and mohitos), just make sure you always keep it in a container!

One new thing I learned about mint this year is you have to use the top 6 inches of leaves and leave the rest behind--they older leaves are too bitter. I found this out by unwittingly giving a "mature" leaf to Clara and listening to the resulting whining and gagging for about a half hour.

My infusion is a little tender, meaning the flavor is light. I'm not sure if this is normal or if perhaps I need to use petals from newer rose flowers. Thoughts? The mint is definitely the dominant flavor, and the rose is there if you look for it. It's very refreshing on its own and a bit of a treat with a touch of simple syrup.

Honestly, I think my favorite thing about this little recipe is how pretty it looks while it's "cooking."

Chicken Soup with Rice

The first night after the Eat Local Challenge was over, I got a nasty cold. I was achy and cranky and not up to cooking.

So I ordered take out. Thai Food from Thai Ginger, one of the best-loved Thai places in North Portland.

And, it was…salty. That’s what I noticed first. The vegetables were quite cooked and salty. But then the Pad Thai was super sweet and oily. Before I could bring it up Clara noticed, too. “Salty,” she said, with a bit of surprise. (She’s getting a very keen palette, that one, though it doesn’t often seem to be working in my favor.)

After a month of eating food that was either my own local “good grub” or fancy Northwest Palette, this food that is usually one of my favorites seemed really foreign and off.

But I appreciated the leftover white rice the next night when I made chicken soup. I’d roasted a whole chicken over the weekend to carry though the week, something I’ve been doing often. The only problem I’ve found is that these organic chickens I’m buying barely have enough meat for two meals. I need to find some local farmer with fat chickens.

lemon thyme (I really love this photo)

Hopefully, enough rosemary

These are yet two new additions to my herb garden. I’ve been blowing through the rosemary so fast my little plant was about down to stumps and I was going to have to start wandering the neighborhood with scissors. I fell in love with the lemon thyme in the garden of or cabin on Orcas Island. Both go great stuffed under the skin of roasting chicken.

Anyhow, we had leftover chicken and this white rice and I had a container of frozen stock I’d made previously thawing in the fridge. After we eat all the meat off the carcass I make stock and freeze it, then bring it out as we finish the next roasted chicken to make soup.

I’ve included measurements in this to give you a place to start, but they’re all approximate and totally open to adaptation. This is one of those dishes you can tailor to whatever you’ve got in the pantry, which is pretty much how we roll, if you hadn’t noticed. Edited to add: My friend, Leah, pointed out that celery is always a good addition to chicken soup and I totally agree. In fact, I prefer it with celery. I just haven't accepted that I have to start buying Cali-grown veggies yet.

This soup was a bit thick since I had relatively little liquid and the rice with potatoes made it starchy, but I liked the heartiness. The tarragon was a nice change of pace, though the next day I had the leftover for lunch and the nutty, garlic flavor had intensified significantly.

There is just no way to make roasted chicken look good in photos.

Chicken Soup with Rice

2 - 4 cups of chicken stock, depending on how thick you want your soup
about 2 cups of chopped roasted chicken (or ½ cup per serving)
2 – 3 carrots, chopped
3 – 4 potatoes, cubed
½ cup onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced or chopped
1 tsp. dried tarragon
salt and pepper to taste
1 cup cooked rice; white, wild or brown, depending on taste

That's the rice. And veggies, of course.

The Knob Creek is my "cough medine." Add hot water to a shot for a soothing nightcap.

1. Heat the stock in a sauce pan on medium heat until just steaming. Add garlic and onion and let warm for a few minutes.

2. Add carrots and potatoes and let simmer, covered, for 5 – 8 minutes, until just tender.

3. Add chicken and tarragon, then salt and pepper to taste and stir. Next add the cooked rice. Simmer 5 – 15 minutes until flavors meld to desired taste.

Mmmmm.

Keep it Simple

It’s the witching hour. We’re all starving. I’ve been running all day and now it’s past 5 o’clock and who knows when my husband will be home to watch these kids. I’ve got great food in the house—oh, I had the best intentions-- but I’ve been too busy with work and playdates and the bajillion other things going on to plan out whole meals.

The baby is dribbling water from her sippy cup all over the kitchen floor and her muddy little feet are painting brown streaks that I’ll have to wipe up later. Clara is pressing my patience to the wall asking question after question jumping from idea to idea so quickly my answers come out as tongue-twisters. If I answer at all. The fact that she dances around the kitchen like a mayfly while she does this makes me wish I’d made it to yoga more often so I could do that ujjayi breathing thing.

Even the radio, tuned to NPR, is exhausted with its habitual recitation of death and destruction.

I’m pulling chicken and lettuce and carrots and broccoli out of the fridge, happy for the fresh, lovely farmers’ market finds, but frustrated because I don’t have a chunk of uninterrupted time to really concentrate on a recipe or try something new.

“Can I help?” Clara is just getting to the age where she’s interested enough in cooking that I can give her something simple to do and she’ll be entertained for 1.354 minutes. Tonight it looks like I’m just chopping things and throwing them together and I can’t think of an activity for her that doesn’t involve a sharp knife.

“No, honey, I’m just going to make something really fast.” First I can’t think of anything new to cook and now I can’t even conjure up enough imagination to find something for this poor child to do. I understand the allure of pre-made, frozen dinners.

She heads for the door to the back deck where I’ve got a few herbs growing in pots.

“Mom, how about we put some rosemary in the salad?”

Rosemary? She knows what this is? And what to do with it?

Since she was a baby I’ve been rubbing her hands in the rosemary bushes we pass on our walks and encouraging her to breath in its spicy smell. She pulls a sprig off the smallest plant, brings it up to her nose and inhales with her whole body.

“Mmmmm,” she sighs. “That smells yummy!”

The dinner is simple and fine. Moist and flavorful chicken breasts fried in a little olive oil with salt and pepper. Enough to make leftovers for lunch. Salad with romaine lettuce, broccoli and a little rosemary with a dash of balsamic (my guilty, non-local pleasure).

Maybe I’m over-thinking this food and cooking thing. Simple and improvised seems to be working just fine.