I love the scents of autumn. When the cool nights start nudging their way into the day, when I wake up to frost on my windshield, I start craving certain smells. October betrayed us this weekend by delivering a few days that demanded shorts and t-shirts, but it was still my first fall weekend as far as my nose is concerned.
Okay, I know, bread actually rises better when the weather is warmer. I struggled to get my dough to rise enough on Friday because it was chilly in the house. Also, salt inhibits rising, which means the more you put in, the longer it will take. The friend I was baking for has a slightly irksome habit of salting my bread, so I thought I’d cut out the necessity by adding more to the dough. The trouble was that I was baking between shifts, so I only had so much time. The bread was a tad flat, but the extra salt brought out a sweetness in the dough that was worth the compromised loaf height. And our apartment smelled like fresh bread for hours. I primarily am a maker of sourdough (which uses no fat, added sugar, or dairy), so the particular lusciousness of white bread rising as the yeast feed on milk and sugar is something I luxuriate in when I make it.
Cream of Winter Vegetable Soup
For my friend, I made a batch of butternut squash soup, which smells like squash, sage, and apples. It’s a mild scent for a soup that lingered pleasantly behind the bread on Friday. My favorite soup scent is the earthy tones of Parsnapple Soup (1 large tart apple and 1 medium waxy potato per pound of parsnips, an onion, a bunch of garlic, chicken or vegetable stock to cover, with a goodly dash of cumin, cardamom, and coriander, typical soften-cook to mush-blend cream soup method, served with a dollop of whole sour cream). The smell of a parsnip cooking fills me with a visceral sense of well-being that is hard to explain; the notes of those Indian spices make me feel like I could do anything. Parsnapple Soup is the scent of invincibility. Plus, I got two chances to use my szhiszher (known in more normal culinary circles as an immersion blender) this weekend, and that’s just fun.
Apple Spice All the Things
Pumpkin spice is nice, but I don’t get what the big deal is about. Pumpkin is nasty, friends. It smells good, I’ll grant you, and I am enjoying the gift my mother gave me of Yankee Candle pumpkin products. What really flips my lid, floats my boat, and tickles me pink, however, is that winning combination of apples and cinnamon. John and I went apple picking last week, one of my annual autumnal joys, and as always, I insisted on picking the biggest bag of apples. As always, I’ve been staring at the bag for a week thinking, “Good Lord, what am I going to do with all those apples?” Soup (see above), for one. This amazing apple cake, for another. I always need to try something new, too, and this year, my goal was jelly. It’s not nearly as much work as I remember it being when I made it with my mother, but then, I think we made enough apple jelly to feed a regiment for a year. Quantity does increase workload in this instance, my friends. I followed this guide very successfully (although I ignored her recommended apple selections and went with straight up Cortlands because there is no other apple for me) to a jelly that tastes like apple honey. Two cups of juice with two cups of sugar makes this:
That darker jar in the background is Apple Pie Sauce. My mother informed me that I was a silly goose for “making the gravy from the whole bird” when I told her that I made the jelly first and then salvaged the pulp for apple sauce by picking out the skins, but I don’t see what the difference is. There must be an easier was of getting the skins out though. I left them in firstly because I like the pink color they impart to the sauce and jelly and secondly because peeling apples is sort of a hassle and thirdly because I was hoping that some of their nutritional content would end up in what is essentially my soft apple candy. But picking them out by hand makes me feel like I’m missing some and losing a lot of apple pulp. The pulp was deliciously smooth by the time I got through squeezing jelly out of it–if I were being healthy, I could have eaten it straight. Hand-picked apples, however, are about luxury, not health, so I added a couple tablespoons of brown sugar and a goodly dash of cinnamon to make the sauce dessert-worthy.
One of my most beloved professors and mentors from college introduce me to home-brewed ginger tea. Throw away every tea bag in your cupboard that claims to be “ginger” something or other. Once you taste this snappy stuff, you won’t be able to drink that crap. Ginger Tonic is better than drugs when it comes to head colds–I always make a batch when the first cold of the season hits. It’s like a spa day for your innards. Even the smell makes me feel like I could run up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art. It’s also super simple to make: Buy a chunk of fresh ginger. Peel it and cube it. Throw it in a big, heavy-bottomed pot full of water and cover. Bring to a boil. Leave at a simmer for a few hours, adding water to keep the level high. Let it sit overnight. *In the morning, bring it back to a boil for at least a minute. Serve with juice from half a lemon and a generous tablespoon of honey (less honey if you have hardy taste buds). Add a water to replace what you took out. Repeat from * until you’re bored of drinking it or the ginger flavor gets too weak. I can usually go through a half dozen lemons before I get bored. I leave the pan covered on the back burner of my stove, but if you’re not heating it every day, beware mold. Do not use that bottled “from concentrate” lemon juice crud. It is wonderfully suitable for making buttermilk and marinades, but the off flavor will be terrible with this tonic. Trust me–the fresh taste is worth the money in this case.
And Lastly, Lilies
John has bought me flowers exactly twice since we met each other: a red rose on our second date and a bouquet of roses on my 25th birthday, which almost made up for the fact that I had to bake my own birthday cake that year. I’m happy with this paucity of purchased flowers because the cut flower industry is responsible for transporting a ridiculous amount of water out of Africa, among other things. Not to say that all cut flowers ever are taking water away from people who need it more than window decorations that I’ll throw away in a few days, but I don’t know which ones are locally and responsibly produced, so I’m happy to avoid them. Since John started doing photography for a grocery store ad, however, we’ve never been lacking fresh flowers around the house. When the ad needs flowers, the flowers come home to be enjoyed before they go in the trash. This week, John brought home the most amazing lilies which have been filling the house with that wonderful lily scent.
In short…my nose has been happy and my hands have been busy this weekend.