Batter-Splattered

dipnet fever

I got to go dipnetting for the first time this past weekend and I now have more salmon than you can shake a stick at. It was crazy fun. Two of us fisherwomen netted about 55 big fat red salmon in a couple of hours, not to mention a king salmon and a flounder.

You can read all the details about dipnetting at the article linked to above and take a look at the slideshow here, but basically you take a gigantic net like this one and wade out into the water chest-deep and hope a salmon swims into your net.

It's something only state residents can do. The head of a household can catch 25 salmon plus 10 extra for every member of your household.

All those little dots in the water in the distance are dipnetters -- it's a circus:

Little fisherwoman (so stylish) checking out her family's catch, at the ready with a club to whack the wigglers:

Fishing from shore is apparently very challenging so it's nice if you luck out at the last minute like me and get to go out on a boat. It's way easier that way. And a bit dangerous what with all the boats zipping around and wakes and waves, which only adds to the crazy fun, of course.

So many boats:

 

You zoom upriver and then float down with your nets in the water.

Our catch:

Those are huge ice chests, by the way, and surveying our plunder led to the question: who the hell is gonna clean all these fish? Hmmmm.

Taking a rest after a successful fishing trip -- notice the fish scales stuck all over me. And fish slime and river water swamp in the bottom of the boat. Awesome.

 

Oh. And who had to clean and filet all those fish? We did. It pretty much sucked.

But two gigantic icechests full of salmon are now sitting in our chest freezers. I cooked up a couple of fresh filets and with the first bite I decided all that filleting was well worth the effort. Maybe. Anyone know a good fish processor?

or as i like to call it: my holy-crap-this-is-good-soup soup

I started out thinking what am I gonna do with all those collard greens I planted?

 

 

I mean, I like collard greens. Don't get me wrong. But the way they were thriving out there in the garden box, especially that one plant that's hogging all the sun, the situation was getting critical. So I went out in search of a collards recipe that didn't involve bacon.

And don't get me wrong. I like bacon. Collards and bacon go hand in hand on any other Monday night but I was in the mood to branch out a little, ix-nay some of that fat and grease, and that's when I found this recipe.

Lentil and green collard soup.

Red lentils, to be exact, although I think they should be called orange lentils. But nobody asks me.

 

I figured this soup was gonna be really healthy-schmealthy but rather flavor-less but... well... you saw the title to this post. It's super tasty and I'm keepin' it in my out of control stack of keeper recipes. That stack is as crazy as the kale out in the garden box. Oh, I've got a recipe for that kale too.

Try the soup for yourself. If you don't like it, I'm afraid we can't be friends anymore.

You could make this vegetarian-style but I made mine with chicken broth. The original recipe calls for water which seems like it really would be flavorless to me so maybe use vegetable broth instead. And I kinda cooked my lentils to death because I didn't believe the recipe's cooking times. I always have to cook beans for way longer than the recipe calls for just to get rid of the crunch, but this recipe was right on.

Here's my version.

Lentil and Collard Green Soup

Serves four

1 tablespoon olive oil

1 large onion, chopped

1 tablespoon salt

1 cup dry red lentils, rinsed and drained

6 cups chicken broth

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 bunch collard greens - rinsed, stemmed and thinly sliced

Pepper to taste

1 tablespoon ground cumin

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 tablespoons minced garlic

1/3 cup lemon juice

Heat 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large saucepan over medium heat, stir in onion and salt; cook until softened and translucent, about 4 minutes. Stir in lentils, and cook for 1 minute. Pour in broth, then bring to a boil over high heat, then turn heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until the lentils are tender, about 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Add collard greens and pepper to taste, and cook until wilted, about 10 minutes. When the lentils are tender, stir in the collard greens and season with cumin, cinnamon, and garlic; allow to simmer 10 more minutes. Stir in lemon juice before serving. 
   

glazed lemon cookies

Kristi was so right when she recommended this recipe to me a couple of months ago.

Glazed lemon cookies. Why did I wait so long to bake them?

Glazed Lemon Cookies

Makes 24

2 cups all-purpose flour (spooned and leveled)

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon finely grated lemon zest, plus 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup granulated sugar

1 large egg

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Lemon glaze (recipe below)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, salt, and lemon zest. In a large bowl, using an electric mixer, beat butter and granulated sugar until light and fluffy. Add egg, vanilla, and lemon juice and beat until combined. With mixer on low, beat in flour mixture.

Drop dough by heaping tablespoons, 1 inch apart, onto two baking sheets. Bake until edges are golden, 15 to 20 minutes, rotating sheets halfway through. Let cool 2 minutes on sheets, then transfer cookies to a wire rack to cool completely. Spread cookies with lemon glaze and let set, about 1 hour.

Lemon Glaze

2 c confectioners sugar

2 T lemon zest

1/3 c lemon juice

Beat ingredients together until smooth.

artsy craftsy

 

I've been going to so many artsy-craftsy workshops in the past few weeks that I feel like I've been to summer camp without having had to sew my name in all my clothes and without all that homesickness. I would appreciate a care package from mom occasionally though.

First, I went to this festival and carved a bird into a block of hard sand. Molten iron was poured into it. And I glazed a raku pot and had it fired in a kiln.

And I took a class on making bowls and coasters out of mail order catalogs. This has turned out to be very addictive.

 

I call this one "Pottery Barn."

new bowls

Hey hey look at my new bird bowls.

 

Got 'em at Target this weekend. Melamine and only $2.50 each! I've been trying to resist the urge to buy more dishes but these were calling my name. Just need to reorganize a few cabinets and surely I can find a home for them... or just put them out on the table with some fresh rainier cherries.

 

Killer Shrimp Soup, an approximation

 

Read the reviews for this recipe and you'll understand why I had to try it out and why I've been yearning to eat at this restaurant for the first time on its grand re-opening this summer. The words 'shrimp soup' don't sound particularly appetizing to me but the reviews for a restaurant that serves this one thing and this one thing only have me very intrigued.

No one's exactly sure what the secret ingredient is. There are tons of variations suggested in the reviews with everyone trying to figure out just the right combinations of ingredients to nail the original. Use beer not wine! Use cheap beer not the good stuff! Stir in some milk at the end! Well, I took their advice and used beer instead of wine but I went for the good stuff because I wanted to sip the leftovers.

This is essentially a rich and spicy long-simmered buttery and brothy tomato soup. Before you attempt it for an after-work dinner one night, be forewarned: it simmers for three hours. That's right. Three hours. And you'll probably want to cut corners like I did, thinking oh two hours oughta do it, but it really does need that three hours of simmer-time. I taste-tested in the first hour and it was just meh. The second hour it was starting to come together. But in the third hour, something magical happens and the soup really comes alive.

I used fresh rosemary and freshly-caught sidestripe shrimp.

Shrimp shells are both kinda gross and kinda pretty:

 

It's been a cool and foggy summer thus far and while I like that sort of weather, the thought of spending a sunny sand-between-my-toes day at the beach in Los Angeles sounds just as tempting as a bowl of this legendary soup in all its glory, served up by rockabilly waitresses with tattoed arms. 

For now, here's my version of the recipe:

Killer Shrimp Soup

Serves four

4 cups chicken broth

1 tablespoon rosemary

2-1/2 cloves garlic, minced

1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper

1/2 teaspoon celery seed

1/4 teaspoon fennel seed

1/2 teaspoon cumin

Pinch of red pepper flakes

1/2 cup clam juice

1/4 (6 ounce) can tomato paste

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup beer

1T worchestshire

1 pound shrimp, with tails

1/2 (1 pound) loaf French bread

In a large pot, combine broth, rosemary, garlic, pepper, celery seed, fennel seed, clam juice, tomato paste, and butter. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low, and simmer 1 hour, stirring occasionally.

Stir beer and worchestshire into the soup, and continue to simmer and occasionally stir 2 hours.

Just before serving, stir in shrimp. Continue cooking 3 minutes, or until shrimp are opaque. Serve with bread for dunking.