Radish Leaf Pesto

I'm beginning to see the fruits of my labor.  Well, in this case vegetables.  Radishes! 

 

As mentioned in the blog about dad, this past spring I was awakened to the joy of gardening.  Finding dad's seeds sparked my interest in not just growing those tomatoes, but many things in my garden.  I did an awful lot of reading, and I was reminded of something I had learned long ago... that radishes are an easy vegetable to grow, and one crop that flourishes in almost any season.  So in mid-April, the first seeds that went directly into my 4x4 bed was a row of radishes. 

 

Today I picked my first two.  The first one went to my neighbor who has been watching the process as I meet him almost every time I'm in my garden.  The second one was mine! 



 

Second radish from my garden

 

I immediately ran inside, washed off all the dirt from the radish and cut a few slices.  Crunch! Pow! The one-two punch!  First to bite into the fresh crispness and then, pow... that tangy, peppery flavor that gets you immediately on the tongue!

 

 

But now what to do with the leaves. Can I eat them?  ..Scramble to look for my phone and search the net for "are radish leaves edible".  I'm given a resounding YES from the first list of searches and I started bubbling with elation.  Immediately I think Pesto. 

 

I pulled out my food processor, threw in a couple of small cloves of garlic and watched them bounce in the machine until they chopped into tiny pieces.  In went the radish leaves.  I threw in some walnuts, just eye balling what might be right for the amount of leaves I had.  As the machine whirred away, I slowly drizzled in my extra virgin olive oil until I saw that beautiful dark green color appear.  In went some Locatelli cheese... Yes, I love and prefer the sharpness of Pecorino Romano in Pesto! Sacrilege!  Mmmm!  So yummy and peppery, kind of like the peppery flavor of arugula.  A few adjustments with oil, cheese, salt and, well, it was perfection!

 





Radish Leaf Pesto

 

Radish Leaf Pesto
made with walnuts and pecorino romano
www.seasonedchefservice.com



What a wonderful dinner.  Whole wheat Pasta with Broccoli tossed in a Radish Pesto Sauce.  The first of many luscious meals, made from the vegetables of my garden!



Whole Wheat Pasta
w/Broccoli
and Radish Leaf Pesto

A Gift from Dad

It seems appropriate that I should write a blog about my new little garden as Father's day approaches.  My dad was an avid gardener and through a little gift far beyond the grave, he inspires me today in my own little vegetable garden.

Sometime back in February I began a pre-spring cleaning project...  weeding out an overly filled junk drawer filled with lots of unnecessary stuff.   As I pulled away at bits of this and that, as is usually the case in these type cleaning projects, I came across 2 little gems!  I immediately recognized them as something dad gave me a long time ago.  The tiny little pill bottles inscribed with dad's shaky handwriting read "Domenics Tometos - 2001" and "Tometo Azzure - 2001".



Dad's Tomato seeds

 

I took that as a message from dad that I should probably begin gardening again. 

 

I immediately purchased a little seeding kit with 76 little spaces for all different kinds of seeds, reserving 24 for dad's seeds.  I realized these were 12 year old seeds, but I had complete faith they would grow, channeling dad the entire time I planted.  Dad's voice was with me.  He was saying, "be sure to plant them when there's a full moon."  What I thought was non-sense when I was much younger makes total sense to me now.  Many an Internet article validated dad's methods.

 

Burpee 76 seeding kit. Notice the seedlings at the top.
Those are dads seeds growing a bit lanky, but alive and well.



After a few days under the plastic cover of the Burpee kit, I began to see sprouts - those which were Domenico's tomatoes.  The Azzuro tomatoes didn't seem to want to sprout as easily.  What surprised me was that each seed seemed to have it's own time for sprouting.  Some popped up immediately, anxious to come to life.  Others took their time and shyly made their way to the surface as long as two weeks after sowing, which totally surprised me.  Each seemed to be as unique as we are as human beings:  we come from the same family but are each very different and unique souls with different personalities.


Time passed and I enjoyed nurturing all of my little seedlings.  In many ways I am understanding my father and relating to him in ways that I didn't when he was alive.  How wonderful to continue in relationship with him even though he is no longer in this physical world.  I've come to understand that my father's gentle approach with raising us and living his life was also how he cared for his garden.  Slow, steady, working every day, making sure each and every one of us was safe and secure and loved.  It's amazing how he cared for his garden in that very same way.


The soil in my garden is not as rich as dad's.  His years of care of the soil made for rich, deep, dark brown, lush dirt.  I will need to keep working at mine and someday it may be as rich as dad's.  To help things along, I planted 3 4x4 raised beds.  It was an easy to put together cedar wood kit purchased at Home Depot.  Little by little I pulled the grass, and churned the soil with a handy tool.  I'm not one to enjoy sweating to hard work, but this just didn't feel like work to me.  I felt as though I was preparing a space for babies.  Afterall, this was my nursery, the place for me to nurture my little ones.



Early spring preparing the beds for planting.
Notice my handy-dandy gardening tool to churn the soil,
thanks to my husband's good thinking!





My little seedlings had grown quite large, and perhaps a little tangled and gnarly.  I tested a few by removing them from their now too little home and placed them in compostable, slightly larger pots.  I took time to harden them outside as the temperatures warmed, careful they wouldn't blow too roughly in the wind.  The water levels were always carefully watched, and overall, most did well.  I lost a few along the way.  Even though I expected to lose a few, it saddened me. 



Tomato plants grew, albeit a bit tangled and gnarly.

I kept tracking the forecast, hoping each day that I'd not see less than 50 degrees in the overnight temperatures.  Mother's day passed, and still temperatures in the 40s overnight.  Finally in mid-May, all seemed fine for planting and I transplanted about 5 tomatoes.  I reserved some for later planting should the first few fail.  Being an inexperienced gardner, I didn't want to set them all out immediately because I just didn't know if they needed more time indoors or more time for hardening in their little pots. 


5 transplanted tomato plants on the left:
3 of Domenic's Tomatoes and 2 Azzuro.
 

Two of the five tomato plants shown above unfortunately didn't make it. Today is June 12th, and I planted 2 other healthy hardened ones in their place. Tomorrow I will add a few more. I am hoping for a pleasant Father's day with no rain. In honor of dad, that morning I will plant the rest. I'll imagine his hands lovingingly placing them in the soil. I'll imagine how beautifully he nurtured his garden. But most of all, I'll remember how much I loved him and he loved me.
 







 

Thanks, Dad, for all you've given me. 
This is for you.


 

An October evening meal in Barcelona

October, 2012

Razor Clams at a restaurant in the Barrio Gotico of Barcelona

Simply made with Garlic, Spanish olive oil and Parsley

That with a Shandy

Simply delicious!

 

Serendipity in Barcelona and Girona

If there is something that follows me when I travel, I must say that it's serendipity!   Something spectacular happens or its the perfect time of year for this or that.  On our honeymoon it was a secluded beach where a simmering volcano exploded in Montserrat.  In Yosemite, the Spring sun created snowmelt  making the waterfalls reach their peak.  In Alaska, Denali showed its peak to us - something we were told only happens 5% of the time.  And in Newfoundland, our spontaneous August trip coincided with a time when whales feed on spawning crill, and literally everywhere we saw water we saw whales swimming, diving, and even a few playful young ones breaching.

Such is the case of our days in Barcelona and Girona, Spain with my husband, Art, where once again, serendipity followed us.

We arrived in Barcelona on a lovely autumn day.  It was a couple of days before we were to set sail on our TransAtlantic cruise, Barcelona to Ft. Lauderdale.  At the airport we asked a friendly young woman at the information booth what might be a nice little town to travel to on Sunday.  We had already seen Barcelona a couple of times and wanted an easy short train ride somewhere different.  She suggested two smaller cities.  We decided on Girona, but wouldn't travel until the next day, arrival day of travel being a bit too exhausting.

We made our way to our Bacelona hotel - an awards night at a Holiday Inn in an obscure part of town.  We settled in and slept a bit.  This is rare for us as we normally hit the ground running and go until we drop, especially in Europe, wanting to savor every moment of time in our trip. The rest did us good...refreshing!

A taxi dropped us off at our hotel on a weekend day in what appeared to be an industrial area.  I first thought it seemed a bit of an odd, perhaps unsafe location.  But after our rest, we ventured out and found ourselves in the middle of a mini-Rambla.  People were out in drothes strolling, shopping and eating their tapas and sipping coffee.  We made our way to the subway into Barcelona, aiming for the stop Jaume.  This is where the hotel recommended a good restaurant.  We stumbled upon the restaurant which was not yet open.  Someone told us to return a bit later.  When we did, they said they were only accepting those who had reservations.

So, we spent the evening strolling through the Barrio Gotico of Barcelona.  There were plenty of restaurants to choose from, but for the moment we chose to stroll.  In the distance we heard music and suddenly there appeared crowds of people.  I asked someone what was going on. We were told the Barrio's autumn celebration was in full swing.  People lined the streets watching the dancing 12' "puppets" being paraded through the streets to the sounds of traditional Catalunian music.  I found  myself giddy and laughing just at the chance of falling upon such a lovely festival. 

Serendipity!

An autumn festival in Barrio Gotico of Barcelona
How lucky could we get!

 
We searched for a place to eat.  The evening chill seemed a bit much, so we weren't sure if an outdoor cafe would work.  But we didn't want to miss out on the music and festivities which would happen if we ate indoors.  We came upon a lovely outdoor restaurant that had pretty outdoor fire heaters that would surely keep the chill at bay.  I felt it was the right place, took a seat and smiled knowing that a wonderful meal wasn't too long away.  The music, the parade, the people watching - we couldn't have picked a better spot.  We shared a plate of beautifully grilled razor clams with just the right amount of garlic, olive oil and parsley along with a plate of Iberico ham, tomato bread, salads, and a small clay pot filled with a chunky beefy bean cassoulet. The perfect accompaniment... my favorite - a shandy!

After our meal we strolled some more and found ourselves lost with no idea where we were or where we were going.  It had been a long day, and it was time to return to our hotel.  We followed our ears and moved toward the sound of traffic, feeling sure a metro stop would be closeby.  And in a few steps, there we were at a metro station. 

We returned to our hotel and along the way, some of the restaurants and cafes were still open.  The earlier crowds were long gone and likely back in their homes.  What was left of the music spilled out onto the streets.  Men sat in cafes watching the soccer game and an occassional shout would come from one of those rooms.  We made our way into a little cafe, asked for a little something sweet to go with a cafe sin caffeine.  I don't know if that was French or Spanish, but they understood.  A few quick bites, sips and off we were, back to the hotel and a good night's rest. 

The next day would bring us Girona... another day of serendipity ahead.

. 

A New Beginning

The world of travel runs through my veins.  I'm also a foodie.  Those two things seem to go hand in hand.  Somewhere in my early 20s I decided  that I had to make a choice between a career in the travel industry or working as a chef.  The world of travel won when TWA offered me a position selling tour packages to exotic world destinations.  Of course, flying for nearly nothing in an empty open seat was the enticing benefit that greatly lended a hand in making my final decision.  That job led me to 22 years in the industry working in all kinds of positions, ever growing my salary and, yes, I got to travel to many parts of the world.

But the work eventually became stagnant.  I wanted to do something else.  My desire to create beautiful meals, serve others and do it in a business of my very own was always there in the back of my mind.  With a little divine intervention, I left a long-time position working for a travel information systems company to start my own business when an e-mail landed in my mailbox with the subject line "Business for Sale."  Shortly thereafter, a $3600 check unexpectedly arrived in my mailbox.  A little spiritual guidance, I'd say, letting me know it was time to follow my chef dreams!

Here I am, more than four years later, working happily in my business.  I create dinner parties, do personal chef meal services, cater events large and small while dancing in the kitchen with new chef friends, play with kids teaching them to make healthy food from scratch, and provide foodies with new kitchen tricks when they take one of my cooking lessons. 

When I'm in the next room and I hear happy chatter, I know the food is good.  Add a little wine to the mix, and laughter fills the room!  A wine and food pairing lesson, anyone?  Can there be any better way to make a living? 

I must admit, the past four years the spirits of the travel world have been nudging me.  Once you've been bitten by the travel bug, there is no getting that venim out of your system.  So, in December last year, I walked back into the doors of an airline company, part time.  That means flying is back in my life.  And experiencing foods in foreign lands is back!

Life is it's best when you can combine your loves.  I do have a third love.  That one is writing.  Good or bad, it's something I love.

So, I plan to bring everything to you here in my blog.  This is a new beginning for me.  I'm thrilled to be where I am in my life.  There will be no greater joy than to pass it all on to you!  I hope to whet your appetite and create a fire in your belly for all things food, related to travel, and all things travel, related to food.  Look out for restaurant reviews and new recipes from different parts of the world.  And if there's a beautiful something else that I must share, look for that, too.

Travel.  Eat well.  Be Grateful.
See you in your travels!

Gabriella - The Happy Traveling Chef