use real butter

Recipe: charred savoy cabbage salad

[Thank you for all of the wonderful comments and birthday wishes you left for Jeremy! He was totally flummoxed, but in the good way. You guys are so sweet. xo]

At certain times of the year my schedule is completely dictated by the life cycle of plants. Plants. In spring it is the wildflowers in the Southwest. Come summer, it’s the wildflowers of the Colorado Rockies. In autumn – I chase fall colors. That’s probably the toughest season because the leaves are most fragile, early snowstorms can blow in, windstorms kick up and strip the aspens. Wildfire season can turn our lovely Colorado air into something reminiscent of California’s Inland Empire. The autumn shoot is fast approaching and I’m making my plans which is to say, I’m leaving the next several weeks wide open because you have to be ready to go when the leaves say so. I have that luxury in Colorado. But sometimes you just hedge your bets and plan a more distant trip based on the maximum likelihood that the leaves will have something good to show while you’re there. You buy your plane tickets and tell yourself that even if the colors aren’t spectacular, it doesn’t matter… because you’re in Yosemite.

valley view

I’ve learned over the years as a nature photographer and a general lover of the outdoors that Nature is completely out of your control. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be prepared though. Arming yourself with good information can be the difference between a successful shoot and coming home with mediocre snaps. So when I was in Yosemite last February to shoot Horsetail Fall during that magical, but fleeting window when the setting sun illuminates the trickle of water coming down from El Capitan, I had some of the best information available to me. Michael Frye, a well-known Yosemite photographer of 25 years and my mentor, had asked me to beta test The Photographer’s Guide to Yosemite app on my iPhone.

horsetail fall

I stood in the snow with a dozen other photographers, waiting to see if the clearing storm would allow the sun to hit the falls. There were at least a hundred photogs milling about between the parking lot and other spots nearby. Some people had no idea where to fix their lens – because it’s hard to know unless you’ve seen it before. I pulled up the app on the iPhone and showed them Michael’s gorgeous capture so they could puzzle out where to train their eyes. Even though I was just beta testing, it was so incredibly handy to have. Alas, the setting sun hinted, but never spilled out enough for the shot. All of the other days I was there, we were socked in with clouds and snow.

locations

maps

The app is essentially Michael’s book and then some! It guides photographers through Yosemite to the numerous attractions throughout the national park. There are detailed descriptions of locations, how to get there, where to go for the best views, the best times of year and day to shoot, several of Michael’s beautiful photographs, plus relevant photography advice from a master. If you’re not completely familiar with the park, no worries – there are nice maps provided too. I’m all about the maps.

half dome at sunset

misty meadow

Or if you want to know what your best bets are based on your visit, you can filter your search by entering the time of year and time of day. It helped me plan the logistics of my trip such that I wasn’t wasting precious time driving from one side of the valley to the other. The good news is that Michael’s Yosemite App is out of beta and available for purchase! You can purchase it here on iTunes. I think anyone visiting Yosemite might want this app on their iPhone. Even if you aren’t planning to make any photos, the guide will put you in the right place at the right time to experience the grandeur and the majesty of Yosemite at her best. Congratulations on the release, Michael! Read Michael’s post on the release.

el cap from gates of the valley

As is typical of where I live (in the mountains), we have snow in the forecast for these last days of summer. We had snow on the first day of summer too. This makes for all kinds of happy over here at the House of Butter. Cooler weather means 1) getting my ski on and 2) getting my cooking mojo back. It’s back! I first had this fantastic salad in Seattle at Delancey last spring. It was surprisingly good. I really should never doubt the magic of cabbage. I love cabbage.

pretty, ruffly savoy cabbage

quartered

I was with Shauna, Danny, and Lu. Danny and I tasted the salad and looked at one another as we analyzed it. Danny said it was pretty straightforward. Of course, Danny is a chef. I went home, tried to replicate it and my salad was woefully NOT DELANCEY’S SALAD. And then the other day I got a hankering for the salad again and asked Brandon if I could have the recipe because I’m such a loser that I couldn’t figure it out myself. Brandon – the guy who runs Delancey – is a gem of a fellow and a great cook. He sent me his instructions. When I asked if it was alright to post it, he said sure! Brandon is swell.

char the cabbage on the grill if you don’t have a wood-fired oven

chop the quarters up into bite-size pieces

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: chicken tikka masala

It used to be that I would measure a mile by the number of times (four) around the track. Then it became segments of a route through a lush residential neighborhood during field hockey practice runs. When Jeremy and I met and began hiking and backpacking together, I loved to stand on a high point and look back at where we had started. A short six miles could wind up a valley, around a mountain, over a ridge, and climb to a pass. It’s one thing to read it on the topo map and understand this in a cerebral sense. It’s another thing entirely to behold the majesty of the landscape before you.

golden grasses and rocks mantle the peaks and ridges

We had not hiked Mount Audubon since my birthday almost four years ago. Back then, Kaweah was still strong enough to summit with us and I was unaware I had cancer. A lot can happen over the course of four years and yet the trail was as we remembered it, more or less. When we ski in the backcountry, we’re always looking up and around us. When we hike, we’re usually scanning the trail ahead. I remember that cairn, that split boulder, that bifurcation of the trail, that stream crossing, that trail junction. I know where to expect to see families of marmots, pika, and ptarmigans. I like to think of the mountain structures changing on their geologic time scales – that is, they seldom change in our lifetime – and the mountain environment changing with diurnal or seasonal cycles due to avalanche, rock slide, fire, rain, vegetation, freeze and thaw, wind.

this pika is harvesting plants for the long winter ahead

adolescent ptarmigan in hiding

another pika checking us out at 13,000 feet

jeremy on summit

New trails are exciting, but familiar trails are comforting for me. I suppose it’s like that for cooking or anything for that matter. As far as food goes, my usual progression is to like a dish that has been served to me and then crave it such that I want to learn to make it myself. Except with Indian food. I had this mental barrier. Despite most of the ingredients being things I’ve used or at least heard of, I just didn’t know where to begin. My good friend, Manisha, has been so patient with me. I ask her the same stupid questions over and over and she patiently replies over and over and yet I still didn’t have the guts to make my own Indian food… until last week. It’s such a westernized Indian dish, but it is a favorite to be sure. I had to make chicken tikka masala.

chicken, yogurt, lime, garlic, oil, and spices

mince the garlic, juice the lime, dice the chicken

Everyone says it’s easy to make. They’re right. It is. It’s just a pain to make it for the first time and shoot it too. I tripled the batch to make up for the time investment (hey, you can freeze it). First marinate the chicken in a mix of plain yogurt, lime juice, oil, garlic, and spices. The range was 1 hour to 24 hours. I like the idea of marinades, so I went for 24 hours. Booyah!

put it all in a bowl

mix well then refrigerate

When the chicken is ready, you can either bake it or grill it. I chose to grill it. Just skewer the cubes without packing them too tightly together (because you want the chicken to cook evenly) and grill or bake until they are cooked. Turn them over half-way through the cooking time. On our grill it took a total of seven minutes: four on one side and three after flipping the skewers. Lovely.

skewer

grill (or bake)

**Jump for more butter**

Recipe: bourbon peach hand pies

use real butter was on CNN’s Eatocracy blogger spotlight yesterday if you want to check out the post.

It wasn’t a typical autumn hike, but then again – what’s typical? Autumn can be moody, so pick your permutation: sunny, windy, hot, dry, cool, rainy, overcast, misty. This day was rainy, misty, chilly. We chose a mostly valley hike in the trees with the last mile or so rising above treeline to an alpine lake nestled against the Continental Divide. There is something to be said for walking out into the woods, the mountains, the weather. I like to do it for exercise, but there is so much more than the physical benefit that gets me outside. The clutter in my head dissolves which allows me to think with greater clarity about those things that are important. As I’ve said in the past, I am insignificant when I’m out in Nature. It feels good. It feels right to me. It makes me happy.

young aspen collecting beads of rain

autumn is coming – just look at that glorious red fireweed

Alright, it doesn’t always make me happy. I’m a fan of fun #2, remember? Fun #1 is stuff like lounging on the beach sipping fruity cocktails or stuffing your face on a cruise ship. No interest whatsoever. Fun #2 involves some amount of pain and suffering which is eventually forgotten in favor of “Yeah, we really DID have fun, didn’t we? Right? Right?!” We hiked in a steady, soaking rain in 40°F for several miles up a few thousand feet. The trail became a stream where it was steep and deep puddles or thick mud where it was level. Perfect hypothermia conditions. Arriving at the lake, we saw that the Divide was obliterated by thick clouds that were pouring into the basin. And then I noticed a subtle change in the sound on my jacket hood. Tat tat tat became splat splat splat.

snow at 11,650 feet

jeremy gets bonus points for suffering my photography in the wet and freezing cold

Snow!! The winds were picking up above treeline, so we decided to head back before the weather worsened. We hadn’t seen anyone on the trails all day and then I heard Jeremy call out “hiker!” I looked up and saw a short woman clad in rain gear making her way up the trail toward us. We stepped aside to give her room. She stopped and asked where we had come from, beginning a friendly conversation as the rain continued to fall. Her friends were further back. She told us she had started ahead of them because she’s slow, that she had just recovered from a serious illness.

I looked at her closely. Her face was wrinkled, her hair gray. She had no eyelashes. Her eyebrows were thin… thin in that way I recognized. She referred to her illness in this code language. After a few more exchanges on the wildflowers, the weather, the glorious mountains, I softly asked if she wouldn’t mind telling me what her illness was. I suspected. I was right. She had cancer, had undergone her treatments recently and now she was out in the Colorado high country – in the freezing rain and snow – loving the beauty and feeling rejuvenated. I smiled and nodded. I placed my gloved hand gently on hers, “Yes, I too felt that after my treatments.” I still feel that today.

It’s not something I care to discuss with people unless they ask, but the empathy I shared with this tiny woman – a stranger – moved me to let her know that I understood. She’s had cancer three times and she is seventy-six years old. A fighter in her own quiet way, just trying to live and appreciate this amazing life. And basically kicking ass! I want to be hiking like her if I ever get to seventy-six. She shook her head and gazed at me sadly, “You’re much too young to have had cancer, my dear.” We smiled through quiet tears under the rain. We hugged. I squeezed her hand and she squeezed mine back. Strong. I think we just want to be assured that everything will be okay, except you don’t ever really know. That may be why she and I appreciate our time outside the way we do.

Not more than a few hours later I’m warm and dry at the Boulder Farmers’ Market, selecting perfectly ripe Colorado peaches while telling the farmer at the stand that it was snowing on the Divide that morning. I get to have snow AND juicy, sweet, organic, local peaches in the same day. That’s a mingling of seasons right there, folks. I wanted more peaches because I used up the last batch making something wonderful.

say what you will, but i swear colorado peaches are the best

flour, butter, sour cream, lemon, peaches

I grew up eating a lot of fruit. Fruit was usually our dessert if we had any dessert at all. I still operate in that mindset, although I must admit that the one dessert that really hits me at times is pie. Why not put some of that summer fruit in a pie? And then sometime during the planning of the pie, I’ll just eat the fruit outright and that’s the end of that. But this time I found a recipe for bourbon peach hand pies from Smitten Kitchen that I had to try because I needed an excuse to buy a bottle of bourbon and test a new flaky pastry.

cut cold butter into the flour and salt

whisk sour cream, lemon juice, ice water together

pour in half the liquid

mix it with your hands

pat the loose clumps of dough together into a ball

**Jump for more butter**