by Sara Barry | Jun 23, 2014 | summer, what's for dinner
I was late to the game when it came to 
both garlic scapes and grilled pizza, but last summer I finally figured out both, and they make the perfect pairing for an early summer dinner.
I’ve been waiting for garlic scapes—the curly tops of garlic that get cut off in late spring/early summer—to appear, and recently CISA told me it was time. I don’t grow garlic (yet). Somehow in the bustle of fall, I never manage to plant garlic . I’m determined to change that this year but for now, I have no scapes of my own. I pick them up at a farmer’s market or the local co-op.
Garlic scape pesto is bright green with a bright garlic taste. It’s easy to make and stores well. Both the color and the flavor will mellow a little if it’s cooked as it is on pizza.
Garlic Scape Pesto
- 1/2 lb. garlic scapes
- 1/3 c. lemon juice (from about one medium lemon), or more to taste
- 3/4 cup olive oil
- ½ cup grated Parmesan cheese
- 3/4 cup grated Pecorino romano cheese
- Roughly chop the garlic scapes and put them in the bowl of your food processor. Add the oil and lemon juice.
- Run the processor until you have a fairly smooth puree. It will be rougher than a traditional pesto, but you don’t want huge chunks in it.
- Add the cheese and pulse briefly or stir in by hand.
- Taste. Add more cheese or lemon juice if needed. If the pesto is too thick add a bit more olive oil.
Garlic scape pesto is great on crackers, toasted bread, pasta—and grilled pizza.
Like I said, it took me a while to figure out grilled pizza. How do you get the pizza onto the grill? Won’t the dough just fall through the grate of the grill? I finally read about it, realized it wasn’t that hard, and got mildly obsessed with it last year.
Grilled Pizza
- Start with your favorite dough. Roll or stretch it into an individual pizza size (too big and it gets hard to handle). Do not roll the edge—the dough should be flat from side to side. Sprinkle a pizza peel or the bottom of a cookie sheet with corn meal and place the dough on it.
- Prep all your toppings and have them grill side.
- Heat the grill and brush with olive oil. Slide the dough onto the hot grill and close the cover. DO not walk away. Grill for about 2 minutes. Seriously—it’s quick.
- Use tongs or a spatula to remove the crust from the grill and place it cooked side up on your cookie sheet. Cover the grill again to keep it hot.
- Spread sauce or better yet, garlic scape pesto, (go lightly so the pizza isn’t soggy) on the crust. Add cheese and t
oppings (again go lightly, especially with wetter ingredients).
- Slide the topped pizza back onto the grill and close the cover again. Lower the heat and cook for another 2–3 minutes and dinner is ready. Enjoy!
I used garlic scape pesto, basil Italian sausage from our local market, and roasted tomatoes for my pizza. The girls had sauce, mozzarella, sausage, and pepperoni. We had salad on the side, because the garden is really cranking out greens and the radishes are begging to be picked.
Welcome, summer!
by Sara Barry | Jun 17, 2014 | good enough gardening, writing
I’m on the porch watching a butterfly and bumble bee dancing through the rhododendron. My knees (and shins and feet) are still dirty from the garden. The garden that I thought would never get planted is a sea of green, the peas and greens and broccoli lost among the weeds. I look at all those weeds and think of the laundry piled up and the bags still to unpack from my weekend trip and the make up work that got sidelined as I focused on my dad’s health and my mom’s retirement party, and I’m overwhelmed.
My kids are exhausted and volatile from staying up too late the past two weekends for family events. My big girl is at the end of preschool. I don’t know if this transition is more momentous for me than her. And they are out of sorts, not quite getting the seriousness of the situation with my dad, but sense my stress and distracted attention.
So I look at that weeding that needs to get done and the laundry piles and the bags to be unpacked. I look at all the items that got shifted from my to-do list to my do-later list. I’ve barely written the past weeks, and I didn’t run at all last week, even though I know these two things help keep me balanced.
I don’t even know where to start, so I start small: two loads of laundry in the morning, one bag unpacked and tucked away, the quick emails and check ins for work just so I can cross multiple items off the list. Then I went for a run because my body needed it and my mind needed it. I came back with less time to get things done, but more focused, less overwhelmed.
I look at the garden again and decide I’ll start with the peas because they need it most. I work my way through one row and start the next, while my big girl cuts lettuce for a salad. Every time I look up at all the weeds to pull (and the flowers to deadhead and the green beans to plant and . . . ) I take deep breathe and refocus on the row I’m working on. I take a sip of my ice coffee and savor the shade as I dump the weed bucket. I take a break to push my garden helper on the swing, and when her TV show is on, I sit on the porch and watch the butterflies and the bees and take a minute to write, because we both need a little down time. It will all get done—one row, one bag, one load at a time—or I’ll figure out that some of it doesn’t need to get done at all.
Take a minute to write, Just Write.
by Sara Barry | Jun 5, 2014 | garden, kids in the garden, kids in the kitchen, spring, what's for dinner
It was a simple salad, but so satisfying.
There isn’t a whole lot going on in the garden, aside from the weeds that are ready to take over. A look at my garden journals suggests I’m always hopeful and waiting impatiently this time of year. I’m eager for anything to pick; my kids are too.
“What that red round thing?” my big girl asked, bending to show me. It was a radish—and there were more. We picked them, red, pink, and white. I looked around and realized that we had plenty of greens for a salad.
“And what about these?” K asked pointing to the purple chive flowers.
“Yes, we can eat those. And some johnny-jump-ups too.”
She picked flowers and some chives. Both girls helped spin the salad (a favorite kitchen helping job). E tore the lettuce, spinach, and mustard greens. And K asked to cut the radishes. I looked at the sharp knife. I looked at her. I handed her the knife, showed her how to place her hands, and watched. She sliced carefully, if not neatly. She tried a piece, and I was surprised she liked it. Maybe it will be a salad summer.
We tossed the greed, red, white, yellow, purple together in a wooden bowl—and served it with grilled steak, potatoes & onions, and asparagus (planting asparagus is still on my long-term garden to do list). I opened a bottle of wine from a friend, and the girls put johnny-jump-ups in their water. It was a lovely spring spread.
We’re on the verge of summer—a few more weeks before the official start, another week and a half before the end of school. I lose track of time around dinner, and bed time creeps later. We sat out at the picnic table last night in the late light. In my mind it was a glorious evening, though thinking back, it was kind of gray and the mosquitoes were starting to come out. Still we’re on the verge of summer, we were outside, and we were finally eating something from the garden.
by Sara Barry | May 29, 2014 | garden
My garden isn’t as far along I’d like it to be. Memorial Day is our traditional last frost date, and I usually try to get everything planted by then. Right now I have peppers and squash sitting in tiny pots waiting to get into the ground. I still need more peppers and some eggplant from the farmers market. And then there are seeds: corn, pumpkins, beans. I’m late on the broccoli and kale and chard.
But today, those starts and seeds waited. The peas and greens I have planted went unweeded. Instead, I spent my day here:
I weeded and loosened soil. I tucked in some lily-of-the-valley and pulmonaria and a new lavender. I moved the mums that were lost under the lilies and found a spot for the rosemary.
I worked with my big girl chattering away beside me, taking my weeds away in her wheelbarrow, asking me again, “What’s that called?”
“Bleeding heart.”
Usually I do this job alone, but I having her with me made me smile. She understood that I needed to work this space today, and I love that she wanted to help.
Working in Henry’s garden has become a tradition for his birthday. Nothing is reall
y right on this day, but working this space comes as close as anything I’ve tried. Some years, I revisit the story in my own head of his birth, of his life, of his death. More often though, my mind wanders as I work. What matters is the act of being out here, clearing space, tending life.
I didn’t get everything done. I left plants that needed to be divided. I wanted to mulch with compost and put back all the heart shaped rocks I moved out. There are still, of course, more weeds. I didn’t have enough time in the garden today. We didn’t have nearly enough time.
by Sara Barry | May 20, 2014 | canning, garden, parenting, writing
“So what do you do?” was a common question last weekend at my college reunion.
I answered, like most of us do, by describing my job:
I’m a freelance writer and editor. I’ve been working on textbooks and technical materials for years, but recently I’ve been writing more about parenting and gardening and food. I’m also a writing coach.
I could have answered like this too:
I’m pulling together a lot of things that I love and starting a blog about writi
ng and gardening and food. I’m planning online and in-person writing retreats.
I spend my spring, summer, and fall days in the garden as much as possible—planting, weeding, picking, dreaming.
I stand in steamy kitchens, filling jar after jar with jam or pickles or salsa or relish. I start with strawberries and work my way right through apples. I smile every time a hot jar seals with a ping and every time I open one to spoon some apple sauce or canned peaches out for my kids.
I scramble to figure out what’s for dinner most nights, trying to find some intersection between the food on hand, the time available, what my kids will eat, and what I want. I dream about leisurely meals with friends, catching up over a bottle of wine while
we chop and stir.
I help with fairy houses and set up forts. I grumble over load after load of laundry. I read stories over and over and over again. I hold the two-wheeler so my big girl can start pedaling and find blankie for my little girl. I wake up too early to “Mama, is it snuggle time?” and go to bed too late so I can read a little, write a little, relax a little (play Scrabble on Facebook a little).
What do I do? I write and help others tell their stories. I garden and cook and can. I love and take care of my kids (and if I’m good, myself too).
So what do you do?
