fall gardening for spring

Fall around here is mesmerizing. The trees ringing the pasture are orange-ing, the mornings are misty and cool, the fireplace is keeping us company again come evenings, and the elk are bugling right outside our back door (and under stars and moon we hear the wooden clack of antlers crashing in battle). 

Our garden is dying back (except the zucchini, which seems to be raging, raging against the dying of the light), and it's bittersweet. For next season, we'll be gardening in the pasture in front of our house. New neighbors are moving in next door, and so we're picking up our fencing and greenhouse and shifting to a new plot. I was somewhat devastated at first; that garden, my first very own garden, felt like my child. But good things abound: we hope to befriend the neighbors, we think this new plot will get more sunlight, and it's twice as big (yes, we measured). More space for more veggies! Our landlords are pretty awesome to let us till up their sheep pasture to grow things. 

We harvested our soup beans, potatoes, and winter squash. We'll still be harvesting carrots, beets, kale, fall lettuce, chard, some basil, and hopefully brussels for a while to come in the old space. 

This evening, we planted one row in the new space of favas and shallots. Not to be harvested until spring and midsummer, respectively. How odd, to tuck seeds into the ground knowing that a whole winter and spring of waiting lies before us. It's an investment in the future. 

mutton

About a month ago, we added to our home butchery repertoire mutton. Or, as my uncle's girlfriend Eve says, the French way, moo-tone. Which does sound much more elegant. I think mutton has a bad rap, and that was evident in the price we paid for it (half of what we'll pay for lamb later this fall). But this ewe grew up on lush pastures right outside our back door, lived a quiet and peaceful life, and I have to argue that it's taste-able in the mutton curries and roasts we've cooked so far. It's fall-apart tender and, when paired with either red wine and herbs and garlic or toasted Indian-style spices and ginger, just delicious. You would be hard pressed to differentiate it from beef. I'm serious. 

Researching specific mutton recipes has been somewhat difficult online. The BBC has a few; some very Indian websites have some (confusingly written!). But not much. So we've taken the tips we gathered from Eve and from some articles on the BBC, and basically crafted our own recipes each time we've cooked it.

This is the curry I came up with. It would be equally yummy with lamb or beef. The key is toasting the spices and then concentrating all the flavors slowly with the tomato juice. Also simmering the meat for a loooong time, until it's as tender as pot roast. 

Spice mix

1 tbsp fennel seeds

1 tbsp cumin seeds

1/2 tbsp coriander seeds

pinch peppercorns (maybe 1/8 tsp) 

seeds from 5 cardamom pods 

generous pinch red pepper flakes

1 cinnamon stick 

shake of paprika 

Toast all the spices but the paprika in bottom of dutch oven until aromatic. Set the cinnamon stick aside. Then grind the toasted spices and the paprika in a spice grinder and set aside. 

Curry

2 tablespoons butter

1 onion, chopped 

1-inch piece of ginger, peeled and minced

4 garlic cloves, minced 

1 (14-oz) can diced tomatoes 

Grapeseed oil

1 pound mutton, cubed into 1-inch chunks 

1 can coconut milk 

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F.

Melt the butter in same dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion, cook until glossy, and add the ginger and garlic. Cook until aromatic. Add the ground spices and cook until more aromatic. Add a splash of the juice from the diced tomatoes and cook until it’s evaporated and a golden crust is on the bottom of the pan. Add more juice, scrape the pan, and cook again until evaporated and another golden crust coats the pan. Continue this cycle with all the juice you can get out of the tomatoes—probably four or five rounds of this. The last round, use the juice to scrape up the browned bits and then transfer everything to a bowl before it has a chance to brown again. 

Pour in a splash of grapeseed oil and wait for a moment for it to heat up. Add the mutton pieces and brown on all sides, turning quickly—you just want to seal the juices. Add the onion mixture back to the dutch oven along with the remaining tomato chunks, the cinnamon stick, and the can of coconut milk. Bring to a simmer. 

Cover and transfer to the oven for about an hour and a half, until the meat is tender and easy to shred with a fork. Salt to taste. Remove the cinnamon stick. 

Serve with bulgar or brown rice.