Showing posts with label onions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label onions. Show all posts

Monday, October 19, 2015

Bounty of Harvest




The bounty of harvest is in full production in October. This makes me very happy.

Usually I spend hours each fall dehydrating apples, parsley, sage, and any other produce I can get my hands on. Many foodstuffs come from the generosity of family and friends. Some are purchased. But the the parsley and sage are clipped straight from the garden, as they have aggressively taken over most of one raised garden bed.

This year, I have yet to fill the little dome of delight with sliced apples. But I have made a huge crock pot of applesauce sprinkled with cinnamon. The fragrance of cooking apples and cinnamon is a signature fall scent. Ahhh.

Yesterday our family was blessed with massive produce in the form of 50 pounds of potatoes (and I mean BIG spuds - I have never seen them this large), 50 pounds of onions, and a box full of Roma tomatoes. The overabundance is amazing. I do not want any of it to go to waste.

As of last night, the dehydrator has been running non-stop. The withered forms of onions rest inside, slowly drying out and waiting for me to scoop them into a container for future meals. The neighborhood is filled with wafts of onions (we got smart and put them on the patio, as our eyes were going crazy with burning).

The potatoes - what to do with the potatoes? Mashed? Baked? Gratined? I fear that one is enough for a small army, they are that huge!

And the tomatoes - soup? Sauce? Stewed? Dehydrated? (No, that does not sound appealing at all.)

I'm off to go another round with the tear-inducing onions. Last night was French onion soup. Tonight?

Ideas would be greatly appreciated. Oh, and if you need a spud or two, a few onions, and a handful of tomatoes, drop on by.

 
Thank you, dear friends, for sharing the (food) wealth!

Wednesday, February 4, 2015

Love is in the Air - Wacky Wednesday



Why art thou silent! Is thy love a plant
Of such weak fibre that the treacherous air
Of absence withers what once was so fair?

~ William Wordsworth, British poet
1832. "Why Art Thou Silent!," Yarrow Revisited and Other Poems (1885)

Maybe he was talking about red onions that look like hearts. They are a plant of weak, yet burning, fibre. Oh, yes, treacherous air! As my eyes burn while cutting the silent plant that once was fair, the absence of fumes makes me silent. And, I might add, onions are withered plants. Just look at the dried up stems.

Tongue-in-Cheek

Angie Quantrell loves onions and plants. Love is in the air this month of February. Have a love-ly day.