To The Bone

I am sitting here writing this sipping herbal tea, with four medications swirling somewhere in my system. My knees hurt from old meniscus injuries. I bought an antacid for the first time in my life last week. Even before getting sick, I’d been finding myself getting out of breath more easily. I feel physically weaker, which makes sense because I don’t think I’ve lifted a weight in five months. Four days ago it all came crashing in on me.

A solo mushroom hunt became something larger than a day in the woods There’s one. Oh! Another. And another. Ooooh. This could be good. Really good. I kneeled, picked the pretty porcini mushrooms, trimmed the dirt off their stems, and placed them gently into my basket. I’d taken all of maybe five steps into the woods in central Minnesota. Fall has arrived, and the wet breeze from the south meant we’d be getting even more rain later in the day.

I am sitting on a rickety folding chair, facing the waning sun in a dessicated cornfield that has long since been harvested. A steady, 25-mile-per-hour wind blows from south. It’s 109 and dry. Feels like I’m sitting in front of the world’s largest hair dryer. Three scraggly wild sunflowers wave in the wind in front of my chair, a poor barrier for most game. But doves are oblivious, and not terribly clever. It’ll do. I watch one wing its way toward me, fighting the wind. Good.

“Are you excited about harvesting wild rice today?” Cat asked as I blearily pulled on a long-sleeved shirt, ratty jeans, and my knee-high, cross country skiing socks. Um… ish? Even though this was my first time ricing, I knew it would not be like mushroom hunting or berry picking. Gathering wild rice, or any wild starch, usually means work. Hard, sweaty, often grueling work. Definitely Type II Fun for a modern human.

I am standing in my pocket prairie, scissors in hand. I’ve been nipping off old flower heads for a month now, deadheading to keep the show going in my little green world. One more week. A few more blossoms. I do this partly because my office looks out on the mass of coneflowers and coreopsis, ox-eye daisy and anise hyssop, mountain mint and Mexican hat.

I had a long conversation with a chef friend the other day about fine dining, our craft, and what it is we’re really doing. She had done her time in Michelin kitchens, armed with tweezers, plating dishes with sometimes dozens of elements. “I remember those dishes as being beautiful, but… inaccessible. And hard to eat. And sometimes prettier than they were delicious,” she said. “I don’t do that anymore. I just want to feed people. I want to nourish them.

I thought a big catfish had just eaten my nightcrawler. I was wrong. Big, powerful head shakes. Sullen, willful fish. More irked than freaked out. I was fishing very light tackle with light braided line, but I still wasn’t super concerned about breaking this fish off — until it decided to start swimming in and around Nate and Jamie’s lines. A flash of gold, and we saw the fish just under the surface of the Minnesota River’s murky waters. Carp! Big one! Now I was excited. And nervous.

I am standing at my kitchen counter, holding a wild bean so green Ireland would be jealous. It should be fine. I’ve answered most of the questions in my mind, my theories are strong, the physical evidence in front of me is going the way I’d hoped. Let’s give it a go. I ate the bean. It was slightly crunchy, sweet, a bit slippery, meaty, with just a hint of acidity, which I did not expect. Very, very much like a fresh fava bean. Which is what I’d expected.

I wrote generically about making herb oils (among other things) earlier this week, so I thought I’d give paid subscribers the details on exactly how I do it. I’ll give you the generic recipe, then places where you’ll need to switch things up depending on the ingredient. You’ll mostly start with fresh herbs, although there are occasions where the dried herb is superior. Use a neutral oil, too. I use grapeseed oil because it’s cheap, flavorless, and has a high smoke point.

The inside of my fridge. Judge me if you want… It has been said that my kitchen is full of ingredients, not food. There is some truth to that. While yes, I usually have Kind bars and crackers around for quick calories, mostly what I do is make good things to eat, using fun, quirky, and intensely flavored ingredients — almost always of my own creation.