March 2007

Now it's time to try cooking these vile things.

We'll start out with a big mess of them. Wash them off. Here they are. Disgusting!

Ok, now a test run. We'll trim off the root part and here's what we're left with.

Throw it in a hot skillet with some olive oil and salt for a minute or so and here's what we've got:

The taste: Not that bad. Still bitter, but not wholly unpalatable. I don't mean to get all foody on you or anyting, but it kind of seems like the bitterness of the greens makes the olive oil seem sweeter. The salt helps.

Ok, now I really need some actual dinner. Put a bunch more of the dandelions in the skillet and add them to some reheated leftover rice and grilled chicken with some sri ratcha on the top:

Not a bad-looking meal. Cristy will be proud of me when she gets around to reading this in a year or so.

While I was eating this, I kept thinking about the bibimbop I always order at the Korean barbecue place in Nob Hill, wondering if they use dandelion in it. Could be dandelion. It would be funny if it was. It would be hilarious!

So far so good on the vitamin K poisoning, too.

Spring is officially here. I guess I have to start actually eating weeds. Ugh.

OK. The obvious one here is the dandelion. They're all over the back yard as usual. All the literature I've ever read says that you have to eat them in early spring, before they have flowered, or else they'll be bitter.

All right. I've got some here that haven't flowered yet.

And some that have.

So I'll pick some that haven't flowered.

And wash them off.

And taste them.

Horrible, vile, bitter. If every Johnny Edibleplants in the world hadn't already said that these were edible, I'd swear they were poisonous. On closer inspection, I see that most of them have little embryonic flower buds near the base. Maybe this is why they're bitter. Maybe this plant can only be enjoyed in Albuquerque in February (which would be kind of cool in a way but it's also irritating to me because it doesn't do me any good now). Or maybe they're always bitter here.

Let's see what others are saying about dandelions...

Here's a likely suspect: A nice lady becomes rhapsodic over gathering and consuming dandelion greens:

The greens have a slightly bitter note, they are elegant in a salad and they make a tasty potherb. I also put them in stir fries and soup.

Well no shit they're bitter. I can imagine them in a soup.

Dandelions support digestion, reduce swelling and inflammation, and treat viruses, jaundice, edema, gout, eczema and acne. This sunflower relative boasts potent medicinal properties with laxative and diuretic properties (its French name, pissenlit, wet the bed, aptly names its effectiveness).

Have I mentioned yet that this kind of stuff sort of pissenlits me off? Nearly every book I've read about wild plants has long passages like this that tell you that the herb in question is a cure-all for every single disease known to man. Acne? Really? So I should just rub my face in a pile of dandelions when I get a pimple? Or should I mash them up and make a poultice? Come on, if it cures acne, then let's see the science, some examples, something. It's also reassuring to know that dandelion can be used to treat "viruses." What the hell is edema, anyway? No, don't tell me. I don't want to know.

But that's enough picking on the nice dandelion lady. I feel bad now. At the end of her article she includes a helpful chart that demonstrates dandelion's nutritional superiority over that cheap pretender broccoli. Dude, when I'm done eating my dandelions tonight, my vitamin K levels are going to go through the fucking roof!

That's right. I haven't given up yet. I'm going to eat these horrible things at dinner tonight and tell you all about it. It's a good night for something risky like this because Cristy is gone at a conference, so I don't have to watch her make all the three-year-old scrunched up faces she makes when she eats something she doesn't like. On the other hand, if I overdose on vitamin K, there will be no one around to call the the paramedics.

via Boing Boing

Well. Yesterday the weather report said the high would be 69 degrees, "mostly sunny," so I attempted to make chicken again using this recipe at solarcooking.org for "Chicken in the pot."

I followed the directions for the recipe to a T. To a T, I say, except that the recipe calls for 1 can of chicken broth, but instead of using "1 can," I used "what was left over in the fridge in one of those boxes of chicken broth that Cristy buys." Cristy is always harping on me about using enough liquid in these recipes, but what she refuses to understand is that I like finding things out for myself the hard way. That way it really sinks in.

Anyway, the meal got into the oven at approx 10:30 am and came out at 4:30 pm. I would have left it out there longer, but around 4 the sky started to cloud over in a very unpleasant fashion. The chicken was done, but guess what? The vegetables were still crunchy. The chicken was done because I had layered it at the bottom of the pot and covered it with the broth, but the vegetables were essentially being "air cooked," which is probably not the best method for cooking vegetables.

In any case, I had to keep it hot until about 6 anyway so I tossed the whole thing into a crock pot and set it on high for a couple hours. We ate around 6:30. I told Cristy that my feelings wouldn't be hurt if she didn't want to eat the vegetables, but she saw through that lie and ate them. Really, it wasn't bad. Another two hours in the crock was really what the vegetables needed. Oddly, the chicken smelled and tasted to me like Kentucky Fried Chicken. I think it had something to do with the amount of black pepper in the recipe.

So was it a success? Sort of. Next time I'll use the proper amount of chicken broth. Also, there's only a month or less of cold weather ahead of us this season, so the sun is going to be getting stronger and stronger until it reaches it's skin-blistering climax in July.

One other thing. A few people who I talk to about solar cooking express doubt about how hot the oven gets. The oven doesn't really get hot: the pot in the oven gets hot. Even a day like yesterday in early March when the sun is still pretty weak in Albuquerque, the pot in the oven was so hot that it couldn't be comfortably touched. By comparison, put something in your crock put on low (or even on high) and when it heats up, touch the ceramic part of it. You can touch it without burning yourself.