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A slow start, but season finally blossoming

5/16/2014

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Non-essential blooms were the first to hint that spring had arrived — snowdrop and crocus, hyacinth and daffodil, tulip and forsythia. They added color and vibrancy to a landscape too long held hostage to winter’s drab lifelessness.

Then, slowly, brave berries followed suit, first with leaves, then small, white blossoms — currants and honeyberries, chokecherries and blueberries. The sour cherry was right on their heels, a step ahead of the gooseberries and black raspberries. Already the strawberries have opened their first flowers.

Each day brings new friends returning to life — even the grapevine that my mentor was convinced had given up the ghost. All five vines have some greenery emerging, albeit to varying degrees. But if, as he suggested, the two vines hit hardest by the cold spells have to spend the season recovering without producing fruit, that’s a price I’m willing to pay.

On the other hand, we’re back to square one with sweet cherries. The BlackGold, which produced two cherries enjoyed by the birds last summer, isn’t showing any signs of life. Neither is the Black Tartarian we planted last spring.

At least Stark Bros., which late last year absorbed Canandaigua’s Miller Nurseries, has agreed to honor Miller’s warranty and send us a replacement. We’re on our own for the BlackGold.

I think this will have to be our last attempt. Growing our own sweet cherries just may not be in the cards, since we can’t seem to keep a tree alive for longer than two years.

The asparagus, though, are sprouting fresh shoots as quickly as I can cut them. Each morning I look out the window at the raised bed and am greeted with new growth. This weekend, we plan to blanch and freeze a batch or two so we can add these tender green spears to soups and frittatas next winter.

The rhubarb, growing equally fast on the other end of the same bed, has already graced our table as sweet bread — and received the seal of approval from Kevin’s grandmother. She wasn’t impressed by the homemade cinnamon rolls and blueberry muffins for our Mother’s Day brunch, but she made sure the rhubarb bread found its way into her “take-home” container.

It’s gratifying to be eating once again from the garden, and to know that in just a few short weeks, all of the current blooms will have morphed into essential fruit.

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Flight of fantastical maturation

5/9/2014

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Our eldest fledgling, who unofficially left the nest several years ago, occasionally stops in for rest, rejuvenation and food — before migrating back to his post-adolescent free-form life. It’s always good to see him, swap stories and share coffee, but before we’re ready, he’s often flying out the door with a wave and a “See ya!” 

He launched his unconventional life on a wing and a prayer, eschewing four walls and a lectern in favor of experience and musicianship as his educational institution. My husband, Kevin, and I have patiently extended love and support as he has weathered employment and economic ups and downs on his journey to adulthood.

Along the way, the once Hot Pocket-kid has surprised us by acquiring culinary skills and expanding his food interests and appetite. As a fussy 9-year-old, he was disappointed to be served homemade mac-n-cheese instead of his beloved boxed version. As a teen, he unknowingly ate more vegetables than he realized while we quietly served goulash over a bed of baby spinach and renamed chicken cacciatore “Chicken Geneva.”

Today, as a 26-year-old, he has not only learned to whip up catsup and mayonnaise from scratch, but has more than once successfully juggled the preparation of a full Thanksgiving meal for his friends. He takes pride in eating a wide variety of vegetables and cuisines and even chided us last fall for being unfamiliar with the wonders of jicama.

On his more recent visits, I’ve been delighted at his keen observations — asking about soup ingredients, sauté temperatures and sauce techniques. Since I often “wing it” for dinner, making the most of what’s on hand and seasoning as I go, he seems to know it’s best to question me in the moment.

This newfound common ground took another joyful leap forward last weekend, when our formerly flighty bird dropped by as we labored in the garden. After exchanging the usual pleasantries, he didn’t fly off to the wi-fi, he asked for gloves and offered to help!

It was good to work beside him and the afternoon flew by as we swapped stories and weeded, filling bucket after bucket of perennial greenery for the compost pile.

Before we were ready, he washed up, put his gloves away and flew off to his job with a wave and a “See ya!”

After that shock, now we’re the ones who need some rest and rejuvenation.

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Food is what makes our world go ’round

5/2/2014

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Food gives us great pleasure — eating it, preparing it, growing it, harvesting it, preserving it. My mother frequently observes that it’s our favorite topic of conversation, too. For what’s more primal and communal than sharing food?

Over the years, I’ve found it forms the framework of our lives together — whether my husband, Kevin, and I are preparing special birthday meals for our children, inviting fellow artists and friends over to nosh and natter, or planning an upcoming family gathering for Mother’s Day. Even daily dinners for the two of us serve as an opportunity to celebrate — whether it’s nutrient-rich fare designed to boost our immune systems during a viral outbreak or a light salad with fresh bread when it’s too hot and humid to stomach much else.

That’s why, at this time of year, we’re just as excited to see progress in the garden as we are to spy the back of the freezer. On the one hand, it’s comforting to know that we’ll be cutting asparagus and pulling rhubarb as early as this weekend. But it’s equally satisfying to realize that we filled much of our plates all winter with last season’s bounty.

Hardly ever is food a chore for us. Occasionally we haven’t planned ahead, which is far more of a hurdle when the cupboards are virtually bare of “prepared, convenience foods.” That’s usually when we rely on pesto to save the day. A few dollops prepared the summer before can be plucked from the freezer as the water boils and presto! Pasta is now a meal.

Sometimes it’s an urgent obligation: When the fruit or vegetables are ready for harvest, we better be ready to pick, prep and preserve them.

Always with the promise that at some point, we’ll sit down and savor the flavors, usually enhanced by a little butter or olive oil, onions, salt, pepper and garlic, and occasionally highlighted by basil, parsley, oregano, even ginger or cilantro.

But some of the best meals are simply pieced together from what’s on hand — like Wednesday night’s meal of oven roasted potatoes tossed with olive oil, fresh ground salt and pepper; steamed carrots lightly dressed with butter and parsley; red Marconi pepper strips crisp sautéed in butter; and pan-seared salmon in an improvised Asian citrus glaze.

Kevin polished off the last bite, swooning, “that was such a good dinner!” 

I had to agree.

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    Kevin & Mary Schoonover

    In addition to art, Mary and Kevin are turning their front lawn into an edible landscape garden.

    Mary's "Front & Center" thoughts appear in purple; Kevin's are in blue.

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