Making sauce

Dad's tomatoes.

Mom's basil.

Ethel's pan.

Nicole Helget's recipe (garlic and onions, tomatoes and fresh basil, etc.)

Three hours of simmering in my kitchen with the bounty of these good people surrounding me.

A beautiful way to spend an evening.

Amy Kortuem: Zucchini Slayer - Part 2

The last batch of zucchini bread was disastrous. Tasted fine, but the exploding batter and the resulting mess in my oven and the smoke filling the house was not fun. Not fun at all.

But Amy Kortuem the Zucchini Slayer is not one to give up easily. This was quick bread, for crying out loud. What could possibly be so hard? I put out the call for a good recipe for a nebulous "next time."

Well, fate intervened. Last Friday, I got a Facebook message from a friend at work that there was another monster zucchini at the give-away table, just waiting for me. Fairly calling my name. I had taken the day off work, but drove up there to fetch this big beauty:

I think it's even bigger than the last one.

In the oven, using Grandma Freda's pans for luck.

 Success. SUCCESS, people. 

(Amy Kortuem the Zucchini Slayer does a victory dance around her kitchen 

with the butcher knife she used to massacre that zucchini in her hand...)

I decided to try Mary Bergemann's recipe (via my Mom) first. I have enough shredded zucchini in the freezer to make two more batches...next time I'm trying my friend Valerie's chocolate zucchini bread recipe. Stay tuned.

Amy Kortuem, Zucchini Slayer

It's that time of year - the Great Garden Produce Exchange. Almost every day someone brings in extra cucumbers, tomatoes and zucchini and puts them on the "share" table at work. I got to the table late last week...

 ...and this monstrous zucchini was the only thing left. 

"What a bunch of cowards," I thought. "I can take this thing on. It's mine." I carried it home in the crook of my arm like it was a newborn.

After a half hour of peeling and shredding and draining, it was ready to go.

(I love the colors of those free range eggs I got from my chiropractor

- it's important that your eggs match your Fire King Jadeite green kitchen.)

The monster made three batches of bread.  Five and a half loaves.

I took the spoils of battle to work the next day.

From the rate at which it disappeared from the treat table, I have to guess that it was good.

Because when I asked my co-workers how it was, all they said (mouths full) was, "Mffmph..."

 

The bread was good when I sampled it, but my oven looked like a war zone. Batter rose and oozed out over the edges of the pans and all over the bottom, which was covered in big, smoking, charcoal-zucchini bread nuggets at the end of the baking hour.

It could have been because the recipe called for 1 1/2 tsp. of baking soda and 4 tsp. of baking powder. I wonder if that 4 tsp. part was a typo? Mom sent me her friend Mary's "no-fail" zucchini bread recipe, which I'll try next time I come across another free zucchini.

What's your favorite zucchini or zucchini bread recipe? I'd love to compare it with my exploding version. 

Amy Kortuem, Victorious Baker.

What would life be without homegrown tomatoes?

My Dad gave me some tomatoes. Look at these beauties.

And this was the tip of the iceberg. I already froze 15 Ziploc bags full and ended up giving bunches and bunches more to my friend and neighbor (and famous author, awesome mother, super cook and gorgeous person) Nicole Helget. She gave me her tomato sauce recipe. I made a bunch of that, too.

This year, for the first time in...I don't remember how long...I didn't plant tomatoes. I was in Ireland around the time I should have been planting, and when I got home, I just never got around to it. I knew I could get tomatoes from Dad and from the farmer's market. 

But when it comes right down to it, there's nothing like going out and picking your own tomatoes off your own plant when you want them.

Kinda like this song says...

A harpist amid Monet's waterlilies?

Water lilies.

A harp amid the water lilies.

Could it be? Could it possibly be a gig at Giverny, home to Monet's water lilies?

I wish. I wish so hard...

...but it was a wedding at the Mankato Golf Club.

Next to the pond. Under the shade of a tent.

(Soooo smart to include that "shade must be provided" 

clause in my contract...)

I'm never gardening again...

...without this guy...

...and without this.

(Yes, this is why the "BEER" note was taped to my purse.)

When my friend Steve peered over the fence after he was done mowing Ethel's yard, I could see the surprise on his face. All the hard work we'd done last summer in the garden (read about it here and here) was disappearing. I'd made good progress against the weeds earlier this spring, but then I went to Ireland. And when I got home, weeding was the last thing I wanted to do (evidenced here). 

So we set a date and got down to business. Put on our gloves, got out the clippers and shovels, popped the tops on the Summer Shandy.

And commenced to drinking beer...I mean fighting the weeds.

One more night of work, and I think it will be clear. Then I think I'll have to bite the bullet and buy mulch. Last time I did, it took 44 bags. Not even kidding. Dad had to rescue me from the Menard's lot...the mulch-getter-Menard's-guy laughed at me when I said I was going to carry it home in my old Explorer. Laughed right out loud.

Oh, my adventurous life.

Mother's Day in the fairy garden

Mom told me that all she wanted for Mother's Day was for me to come out and help her in her fairy garden. It's a magical little corner of her garden she's carved out for miniature plants, a tiny cottage and all sorts of hidden sparkles. Come on in...

Careful where you step!

The fairies are waiting for you...

...to start dancing with them.

Follow the winding path.

Go under the arbor by the tiny blooming plant.

Leave your gardening tools by the door.

Sit a spell by the fountain, covered in mist.

Wait for the flowers to bloom.

(Don't mind the very large fairy planting trees.)

I hope your Mother's Day was filled with fun and magic, too!

After the rain

Rainy, rainy May weekend. Downpours, storms, sprinkles, mist. Every day felt like waking up in Ireland. Magical. Much-needed rain. The garden loved it:

Alpine strawberries - the sweetest ground cover.

Raindrops all in a row on the lady's mantle.

Pink and green tulips. Can't remember the name.

But there's just NOTHING better than pink and green.

Henryi clematis on the garden gate.

Hydrangeas-to-be.

Roses-to-be.

Old-fashioned honeysuckle. Like a fairy hat, hanging there.

Euphorbia, sunny amid the raindrops.

White bleeding heart. Oh, my heart.

The gardener, gazing into her gazing ball.

I wish it would tell the future.

Much garden magic.

My first garage sale

Sale runs today from 3-7 p.m. and Saturday from 7 a.m. to noon.
637 Nicollet Avenue, North Mankato, Minnesota (out of town? worth the trip!)

...I'm thinking it will probably be my ONLY garage sale. Wow, the time I've spent getting ready for this - sorting, cleaning, setting up, pricing. 

Loot sample. There's more. Muuuuuch more.

And the emotions I've gone through while doing so. Oh, my heart. Each piece that's going on the sale has some kind of lovely old dream attached to it. My friend Gwen and my Mom came over to help me set up the other night and each time they commented on something, my heart would clench and I'd say, "I love that! I was going to (paint it, fix it, make a room divider out of it, make curtains out of it, turn it into a pot rack for the kitchen, make a headboard out of it, turn it into a lamp, make pillows out of it, put it in my garden, use them as candlesticks...) but I never did." Gwen said I should have called this a "...But I Never Did" sale. True.

Now, it's time. As much as I've loved having all this great, shabby, vintage, potential-filled stuff waiting in the garage for me, it's time it goes to people who will love it and use it. I've talked here about how how my priorities and passions have changed over the last few years. My garden has been neglected. I've spent more creative energy on writing and my harp and traveling and seeking than on decorating my home and turning old window screens into a room divider (...but I never did). I've been sorting through years of accumulated treasures and have made countless trips to the thrift store. They know my truck by sound now.

 But you can't really take 100 old windows to the thrift store...

Here's a sampling of what else is going on the sale. And don't faint - I'm even selling some Jadeite. I know. I surprised myself, too.

Vintage linens, old windows, a vintage secretary desk.

15,000 vintage hankies @ $1 each.

The cutest old chicken coop you've ever seen.

(I was going to raise chickens in my backyard....but I never...you know)

Sweet vintage dishes and prints. Flowers...

 Accumulated little "doo-das" (as my Mom called them) awaiting creative touches.

Pretty. (And they go with Fire King Jadeite, if you must know...)

Used to be in my first apartment, then on the porch, then I was going to put them in a baby's room...

but then I just never had a baby.

As promised, Jadeite. Yes, there are more pieces than Jane Ray pattern cups and saucers.

The coolest assortment of terra cotta pots EVER. 

I used to plant something in every single one of these things. Can you imagine???

Everybody needs goddesses frolicking in the garden, don't they?

And more vintage linens.

So, here we go. It's supposed to be pretty cold this weekend. But I'll have the chiminea fired up to keep cozy. Hope you'll stop by.

Whatever, spring

You just couldn't wait, could you? You had to get all 80-degrees in March and all above-average temperatures in April and just totally confuse everything. We didn't have our spring wardrobes ready. We hadn't even put away our space heaters and we suddenly had to make room for oscillating fans.

But we adapted. Yeah, we're Minnesotans. We embraced the warm weather. "Spring is here!" we said with confidence to each other over the garden fences and on the sidewalks. We started up our mowers and dug our white shoes out of storage and started dreaming about aperitifs on the porch. But outside...

The violets think it's May.

The bleeding hearts are 

already blooming their hearts out.

And then, you do this to us. 

Freeze warnings, two nights in a row.

I'm sure it was you I heard laughing as we all raced around covering up our gardens. I'm sure it was you I heard snort with evil glee when you saw us pinning down the coverings with rocks against the wind you decided to whip up, just to top things off. I'm sure I heard you snicker and wheeze, "Good luck keeping Harry away from them..."

...when I had to bring the pansies inside 

and water them in the kitchen sink.

Well, if we have a bare and dull May, it's because you just wouldn't wait to do things right, could you? It'll be your fault if you miss out on...

The Angelique tulips. Remember them? Delicate pink and green.

The mini daffodils. So cheerful. So trusting.

The fern peony that gives you two extravagant,

bright fuchsia blossoms every year.

So fine. Fine, spring. Go away for a while. We prefer if you acted on time anyway. Doesn't bother us at all. We have plenty to do inside that we didn't get done because of your early tease. 

Like finishing our winter knitting with Jingle Belle.

Fine. Take your time. Maybe we'll notice when you come back.