What’s a gal to do with a gallon of goat milk every week? Make cheese, of course. Or, as full refrigerator shelves would preclude, make goat cheese lasagna. With abundant ricotta, mozarella, and fresh chevre (the three easiest cheeses to begin one’s repertoire with goat cheese creating), I was completely lined out for a big dish of layered pasta and goodies. The garden added further color to such dominating white; several stray spinach plants allowed to grow haphazardly yielded a pound of fresh green leaves to layer within the goat. First of the season basil pesto and summer squashes round out interior components.

If you don’t have access to local, raw milk, or (horror of all horrors) no interest in making cheese, then go to your farmers market or grocery and select some cheeses to suit your tastes. But do try to use whole milk for the bechamel sauce; this is lasagna, not a diet plan. Here’s what you’ll need:

1 lb. lasagna noodles (homemade: 1 cup semolina, 1 cup flour,  3 eggs, 1 Tbs olive oil, dash salt); 20 oz. spinach, chopped well; 1 cup ricotta cheese; 1 cup grated Parmesan cheese; 1/2 cup pesto; 11 oz goat cheese; 2 small zucchini sliced; 1 1/2 cup bechamel sauce (3 Tbs. sweet butter, 4 Tbs flour, 2 cups milk, salt, pepper, nutmeg)

Cook noodles (or roll out fresh ones and don’t cook). Mix ricotta with 2 Tbs parmesan. Season with salt and pepper. Mix pesto with goat cheese. Blanch zucchini. Make Bechamel: melt butter in heavy saucepan. Sprinkle in flour and stir continuously about 5 minutes. Don’t brown. Bring milk to a boil, remove butter mix from heat and pour in milk at once. As mix boils and bubbles, stir vigorously with whisk. When bubbling stops, return to medium heat and bring to boil stirring for several minutes till thickened. Season with salt, pepper and nutmeg.

Spread 1/3 bechamel over bottom of 9 x 13 inch baking dish. Arrange 1/3 pasta over this. Spread all of ricotta over this, then sprinkle half the chopped spinach on top of this. Scatter 1/2 the zucchini on top of this. Add another layer of pasta, spread with half the remaining bechamel and all of the goat cheese/pesto mix. Sprinkle on remaining chopped spinach, and remaining zucchini. Do another layer of pasta, and spread remaining bechamel on top of this. Sprinkle with remaining parmesan, and some more goat cheese if you’d like.

Bake at 375 degrees F for about 15 minutes, until bubbling and lightly browned. Note: you can also add sauteed onions to the zucchini layers. Salt should be pretty good, especially with the salty pesto and parmesan components. Bon appetit!

This recipe for Oatmeal sandwich bread comes from the King Arthur Flour web site, where you’ll find over ten different ways to make an oatmeal loaf. I’m digging this version. One note – I split the flour into half hard white and half whole wheat, as I have local wheat flour available to me, and enjoy a bit more grain. Here’s what the original recipe calls for:

1 1/4 cups boiling water
1/2 cup rolled oats
2 tablespoons butter or margarine
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons molasses or maple syrup
2 tablespoons honey
2 1/4 teaspoons instant yeast
1/4 cup Dry Milk
3 to 3 1/4 cups King Arthur Unbleached All-Purpose Flour
1/2 cup pecan meal OR finely diced pecans or walnuts

Place the boiling water, oats, butter, salt, molasses or syrup, and honey into a medium-sized bowl, stir, and let the mixture cool to lukewarm.

Mix the remaining dough ingredients (using the lesser amount of flour) with the oat mixture, and knead – by hand, mixer, bread machine or food processor – until you’ve made a soft, smooth dough. Add the extra flour (if necessary) while you’re kneading. Place the dough in a lightly greased bowl, cover it, and let it rise for 1 hour; the dough should be doubled in bulk. Gently deflate it, shape it into a log, and place it in a lightly greased 9 x 5-inch loaf pan. Cover the pan with lightly greased plastic wrap or a proof cover, and let the loaf rise till it’s crowned about 1 inch over the rim of the pan.

Bake the bread in a preheated 350°F oven for 40 to 45 minutes, tenting it loosely with aluminum foil if it seems to be browning too quickly. Remove it from the oven when the internal temperature registers 190°F on an instant-read thermometer. After 5 minutes, remove the loaf from the pan and allow it to cool on a wire rack.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Have a casserole dish ready (either round, for a deeper dish, or 9″ x 13″ for thinner presentation).

Cook 1/2 lb. dry pasta and drain (I use multi-color corkscrews because I like their attitude).  Chop: 2 cups onion, 1 cup cabbage and 2 good handfuls of chard (if you have spinach to work through, go right ahead). Mince 3 cloves garlic. Heat a large skillet and add 3 Tbs olive oil. When hot, saute onions. Add cabbage after several minutes, garlic, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon caraway seeds. Cook over medium-high until cabbage is just tender (or less if you want crunch). Stir in the chard, and remove from heat. Add to the pasta.

Stir in: 1/2 cup milk (or buttermilk or cream); 1/2 cup yogurt; 1 to 2 cups cottage cheese, 1 teaspoon dill seed or frond, black pepper to taste and 1 cup packed grated cheddar cheese. Taste to adjust seasonings (yes! do this, nothing in this will hurt you). Put in baking dish of preference, sprinkle with an additional cup of packed grated cheddar cheese and a few sunflower seeds. Bake uncovered for 20 to 30 minutes, until heated through.

Note: I topped this with some crumbled bacon I had left over from breakfast. Yum.

Anemia has delightfully thrown me into another realm of gastronomy: my baby steps with haute cuisine. It’s like French Vogue for chefs, except you’ll find more affordable items on the ingredients list than those draped across the pages of such a fashion magazine. Outside drizzle obliterating leaf-raking from my chores list, I selected a five-pound tomb from the sagging cookbook shelves, spinning the pages like a globe trotter determining his next destination. My months-ago randomly purchased inspiration: two pounds of oxtail sitting clumped frozen and neglected at the chest freezer’s bottom depths. Luigi Carnacina and his “Great Italian Cooking” led the way to enlightenment with a selection of four recipes.

How to put this . . . cooking Carnacina (who learned from Escoffier), turned into a ‘make-your-own-adventure’ at ingredient number six: Brown Stock. Hereby instructed to refer to recipe No. 4 in his book, I flipped half the book over in search of this key element. Short about five different pices of meat, and anticipating an addition of five hours to my meal preparation, I took swift stock of my rainy day ambitions. So this is what it takes? No time like the present to solve another of life’s great mysteries. If he could do it, and has written it for me to follow, it must be some insanely tasty dish. Car keys and I launched into the chilly mist.

The grocery store pulsed with Halloween night sugar supplies. Shopper’s carts overflowed with colors and boxes unbeknownst to any honest food. I darted through the cleaning supplies aisle and rapped at the meat counter’s set of swinging doors. Then I popped my head in, just in time to see a three-inch diameter bone getting cut and wrapped. Finding an amiable white frock, I gave him my list and asked for some of the huge bones with marrow. Together we hunted down some shin meat (bone and meat, but not veal, as I wanted to watch cost), soup beef (shank, cubed), raw ham, pork rind, and spicy pork sausages. Discussing my preliminary goal of stock and secondary goal of an oxtail dish, he pronounced it sounded like a fine meal. I suppose an invitation should have been forthcoming from me. How odd that such an extension of shared culinary pleasure no longer naturally comes to one in these times?

We’d better start chopping while you are still reading. What follows produced an exquisite meal, forever changing my approach to cooking meat. Three cheers for little Buckie and Hamburger, currently eating their way through our pasture. May they one day encounter such a fine fate.

Start with a Brown Stock. You’ll need 1/2 pound cracked soup bones; 1 lb. veal shin (bone and meat, I used regular beef!); 1 lb. lean soup beef (shank or shin) in 2-inch cubes; 1 Tbs butter or rendered beef fat; 8 ounces lean raw ham, diced; 2 ounces pork rind, in one piece; 1 medium carrot, diced; 1 stalk celery with leaves, chopped; 1 clove; 1 bay leaf; 1 clove garlic; 4 sprigs parsley; 2 sprigs thyme; 1 tsp salt; 8 cups water.

Brown the bones, veal shin, and beef cubes for 15 minutes in a 450 degree oven. Melt the butter in a large, heavy pot over medium heat and add the ham, pork rind, carrot, celery, and onion. Arrange the meat and bones on top, add 1/2 cup of the water, and cook until the water has evaporated. Remove the rind. Add remainder of water, salt, clove, bay leaf, garlic, parsley and thyme. Brind to a rapid boil, reduce heat and simmer 4 to 5 hours, skimming scum from top and replenishing water if needed. Remove from flame and strain immediately through hair sieve or cheesecloth-lined colander. Chill, and remove fat before using. Makes about 1. 5 quarts. For a meat glaze, reduce this even further until it becomes syrupy.

You’ll also need a quantity of kneaded butter, which is slightly softened butter mixed with an equal amount of flour. I used 4 Tbs butter, somewhat melted, and 4 Tbs flour, and just mushed them together in a small saucepan. Set this aside.

You’ll also need some enhanced tomato sauce. Heat 2 Tbs olive oil in a saucepan. Add 1/2 a chopped onion, 4 Tbs ham, chopped, and brown them over fairly high heat for 5 to 6 minutes. Add 1 Tbs flour and mix well. Turn the heat down to medium and add 2 lbs fresh tomatoes (or 1 16 oz. can Italian-style plum tomatoes, drained). Season with 1 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp pepper, 1 tsp sugar, 1 sprig thyme and a bay leaf. Cook 45 minutes, stirring occassionally. You can strain it if you like.(Clearly this process is easier if you have some seasoned tomato sauce frozen or canned and awaiting selection from your pantry!)

Let’s get to that tail. For Oxtail Italiana, you’ll need: 4 lbs cut-up oxtail; 2 carrots, sliced; 2 onions, sliced; 1 stalk celery, sliced; 3 sprigs parsley; 2 sprigs thyme; 1 bay leaf; 3 cups Brown Stock; 3 cups dry white wine (I used 1 cup of Vermouth instead); salt and pepper; 3 Tbs butter; 1 clove garlic, crushed; 1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced; 4 Tbs kneaded butter; 1 cup Tomato sauce; 3 sweet Italian sausages, sauteed for about 15 minutes and sliced.

Whew! Make yourself a cocktail while you’re at it. This is a thing of beauty. Put the pieces of oxtail in a large, heavy pot with the sliced vegetables and the herbs. Add the stock and wine and sufficient water to barely cover the pieces of oxtail. Season lightly with salt and pepper, bring to a boil, cover the pot and simmer over very low heat for 3 to 4 hours, or until the oxtail meat is very tender and will separate easily from the bones. While the oxtail is simmering, melt the butter in a frying pan over medium heat, add the garlic, cook for 1 minutes, add the mushrooms, and saute gently for about 8 minutes; remove from the heat and reserve. When the oxtail is fully cooked, remove the pieces from the pot. Strain the cooking liquid through a fine sieve, return it to the pot (should be about 4 cups; reduce over high heat to this quantity, if necessary), bring to a boil, blend in the kneaded butter with a whisk, add the tomato sauce, and simmer for 10 minutes. Correct the seasoning and then add the oxtail pieces, mushrooms, and sausage. Simmer for 5 minutes and then turn the contents of the pot out into a deep hot serving dish. Serves 6.

I served this with some gratineed celery, recipe No. 1659 in Carnacina’s book. We’ll save that for another time . . . but do note that this dish is best served with biscuits or bread to mop up the amazing sauce.

Like the tightening of belts economy-wide, such a situation calls for culling (one of those farm words that has passed from frequent usage into feeling a bit cruel). Our kitchen walls host their own pop-art version of farmlife – feathers from an infamous fox kill of chickens earlier this year fan out from former picture holes left unplugged. Where will I put my own Araucana wing? Perhaps atop the framed lion painting, currently bedecked with a black snake skin tinsel. Many is the guest who actually enjoys this. Those who do not clearly do not come for lunch ever again, of their own accord.

In case you find an extra chicken on hand, as I plan to, give this one-pot recipe a go. Inspired by L.L. Bean’s Game and Fish Cookbook, as usual I have traded ingredients, lacking theirs. You’ll need: 3 sprigs each of fresh rosemary, savory and thyme (or 1 1/2 tsp dried, total of all 3); 1 chicken (moderate, not jumbo. Or duck!); sale and freshly ground black pepper; 4 Tbs butter; 2 small potatoes, chopped; 2 medium white onions, chopped; 3 Tbs sugar (I used Jaggery); 1/4 cup cognac (book suggested bourbon); 3/4 cup duck or chicken stock.

Rub the inside and outside of the bird with salt and pepper. In a flameproof casserole, just large enough to accommodate the chicken and veggies, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the chicken and brown on all sides (this is somewhat easier when the chicken is quartered). Add potatoes and onions and brown them, sprinkling the sugar over and turning until glazed. Pour the alcohol over the chicken and set it aflame, basting the bird (I used a match, go for the flame-via-burner flare if you have the skills).

Add the stock and puts the herbs over everything. Bring to a boil, then cover and place in a 325 degree oven for 20 minutes. Uncover, baste and raise the heat to 375 for another 10 minutes. Baste a couple times during this period. When done, remove the chicken and place on plates or serving platter. Scoop the veggies around it. Simmer down the pan juices until almost syrupy and pour over the bird.

Bon apetit!  Please note that the usage of adequate fresh herbs, and a homemade chicken stock really makes this dish exquisite. See further postings about making stock, having the patience to do so, and why it’s worth it.

STEP1

You’ll need: 1 medium sweet potato and 2 medium potatoes (not the football sized things on grocery store shelves) – cubed and boiled in salted water until soft (leave skins on); 3 Tbs butter (Jersey cow is best); 3 Tbs thick yogurt or sour cream; 1 cup arugula chopped fine; 1 cup shredded cheese; 1/2 cup milk (we used raw sheep). Note – use leftover potato water to cook with (soup base, biscuit liquid, etc.)

Beat all of the above slowly in a KitchenAid blender or with potato mashing equipment to mix and melt everything. Then beat faster, whipping this concoction.

STEP2 – You’ll need 1 Tbs mustard seeds, 1/2 Tbs ground pepper, 2 Tbs olive oil, 1/2 a yellow onion chopped, 1/2 c. green onion stems, 1/2 cup soppresatta chopped (or bacon, other pork cut), salt.

Heat a heavy skillet (oven worthy!) till it smokes. Add mustard seeds and pepper, turn heat down a bit, and roast. You’ll probably need a spatter screen to help contain the buggers in the pan. After a couple minutes, add the olive oil, yellow and green onions and soppresatta. Saute for 5 minutes, or longer depending on how soft you like your onions. Salt the mix during this time. Then, spoon potato mixture on top of onion/pork mix, spreading evenly. Broil for a minute or a bit longer, so that the peaks of the potatoes get golden.

We enjoyed this with a crisp salad of more arugula with some chopped fall apples, making us feel quite healthy in addition to the potato contentment. A glass of good red wine completed the atmosphere.

I do not claim any deep-rooted fondness for lima beans. Yet a simple pairing of slightly cooked sweet corn kernels, new potatoes and those large limas suddenly welcomed fall by bridging the bright flavors of summer into the earthier vegetables ready to feed us. Accompanied by very lightly grilled venison, a meadow radiated across my vision; red, brown, gold and fading green joined in setting the course for months to come.

To make this, you’ll need an ear of fresh sweet corn, a couple handfuls of lima beans (probably half the beans from pods out of one farmers market basket), a handful of new potatoes (baby baby sized!), salt, pepper, butter. Boil the potatoes until JUST soft, add the lima beans, continue boiling another 3 minutes. Add the sweet corn kernels (cut off the cob), and cook 1 more minute. Drain (reserve the liquid for baking), place vegetables in a bowl, and dress with remaining ingredients. Throw in some fresh thyme leaves (2 tsp) for additional flavor.

Perfect for a day such as this, rainy and preliminarily fall chilly, I recommend cooking this when you can pass in and out of the kitchen for an hour (or two!) prior to eating; that might sound demanding – you can also prepare this in a half hour, but the flavors develop somewhat differently with a longer simmer.

You’ll need: 4 Tbs butter; 1 small onion, chopped; one carrot, chopped, 1/2 bulb fennel, chopped (or celery), a tsp. of fennel seeds; 2-oz. piece of pancetta (I also use several strips bacon and any other cuts of pork left over from other dinners); 1/2 cup dry white wine; 1 cup tomato puree (optional); salt and pepper; 3/4 cup milk; several dashes of heavy cream; parmigiano-reggiano. Also – fresh pasta or dried pasta cooked (a tagliatelle style is good).

To cook, put the pancetta or other pork cuts into a heavy-bottomed, medium-sized pot, over medium heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until fat has rendered, about 10 minutes. Add the onion, carrots, fennel (or celery) and fennel seeds and cook, stirring frequently (I usually swing by every 5 to 10 min., doing necessary phone calls, or other household chores in-between) until soft and somewhat browned, about 15 minutes. You can also leave this to simmer for up to an hour.

Add the white wine and simmer until evaporated, roughly 5 minutes. Add the tomato puree if desired (sometimes I leave this out, preferring the sauce over pasta with just the flavors of veggies and pork). Stir well to combine, adding water if you desire; bring to simmer. Season with salt and pepper, then add half the milk and simmer. Add rest of milk after a couple minutes, continue simmering until sauce is thickened. This can take from 1/2 hour to an hour – just depends on how thick you want it. Stir in the cream and serve over your pasta of choice – again, bite size pieces are good versus long strands. Top with Parmigiano-reggiano.

Note: Sometimes I leave out both the tomato puree and milk, waiting just until vegetables are nicely soft and pork flavor fully developed. Then, I toss with about 1/4 cup of cream and the parmigiano over pasta, which makes for a lighter fare. Add a bit of fresh chopped basil atop each serving for a brilliant note of your fall garden.

This recipe is our take on several versions published in Saveur, No. 110.

1 – As fake road carnage. This is most popular on rural roads connecting Amish farms with “English”- inhabited areas. Simply drive (or buggy) to a lonely road, preferably an intersection; lift watermelon above head and let fall, or throw from vehicle with force, onto road. Think about the thrill of scaring someone and forget the sweet fruit deliciousness you just wasted.

2 – As insight into a hog’s life. This is for those melons so good you want to scrape out every last sugary cell. Simply cut a slice and proceed to eat with great relish and some speed. Keep going until your nose rubs over the edge, juice runs down your mouth and neck, and persons in your company tilt their confused expressions back and away in disgust. Think about how delicious the rest of the melon will be as your companions return to their socially accepted bar-b-que chicken pieces.

3 – As a nectar of the gods’. Sometimes you need to take it to another level. Fly away from your earthbound existence and into the provocative realm of sensorial bliss with watermelon nectar. Slice your fruit, and cut 2-inch chunks from each rind, directly into a blender. As the machine whirs, allow yourself to buzz into bee life, the constant self-transport induced hum that carries you to each flower’s sweetspot. Drink of the nectar in succulent silence, filling your belly til glassy-eyed rapture. Continue your day more enlightened than yogic calm. (Note: water is permissible, many times necessary to achieve this nectar. You choose the level of sweet experience.)

Should one require variation during this season of Lycopersicons, I recommend this quick assembling:

Cut an older loaf of bread into cubed breadcrumbs (a size you’d manage to put into your mouth, alongside a bit of tomato – more importantly, the size a polite guest could manage to cram in). Spread a couple of cups of these cubes into a baking dish, drizzle with olive oil, dash with salt, pepper, fresh thyme, oregano, savory, basil (use a good 1/3 cup of fresh garden herb selection). Toss, and roast at 425 degrees in your oven until golden ~ roughly 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from the oven and toss in a 1/2 cup chopped red onion, 1 1/2 cups chopped tomato, and 1/2 cup of cubed mozzarella (or another cheese you fancy).

This is absolutely the best when eaten straight away, so make an amount you and friends/family can finish.