5 minute read
Cherries & Tar
by IAN KNAUER
Ian Knauer, author of the acclaimed new cookbook, The
Advertisement
Farm, weaves for us a tale of battling his ancient farmhouse kitchen floor and the reward of sharing a family meal to celebrate its imperfections.
Stephen Hamilton illustrates Cherries & Tar with four seasonal farm dishes from Knauer’s new cookbook.
The Farm: Rustic Recipes for a Year of Incredible Food sorts recipes by the season. Stephen Hamilton chose to follow the same model with his food photography.
thyme-roasted butternut squash
View Ian Knauer’s recipe on page 67 »
If you’re looking for a sure-fire guarantee that your great-grandchildren will curse your name, I’ve got two words for you: linoleum and wallpaper. My family’s farmhouse was built just after the Civil War and has been passed down from generation to generation with little renovation. But some time around the 1940’s, someone got the hair-brained idea to cover the kitchen floor with linoleum and the walls with a pink floral print. Now it’s my turn to keep the place in good shape, and, I’m a cook. The old stove with two small working burners (and two more that have been kaput for years) just wouldn’t do. I could have kept the job simple and just replaced the stove. But the wallpaper had started to peel off on its own and while I was at it, I could rip up the linoleum exposing the expected perfect patina of pine floorboards. I told myself it wouldn’t be hard, just scrape, paint, and sand. I figured it would just be a couple days before I was whipping up Cherry-Sour Cream Crostatas in my new farmhousechic country kitchen to share with my friends and family. I have never been so wrong about anything in my life.
chicken with a ton of garlic
View Ian Knauer’s recipe on page 68 »
My motivation to renovate is not just driven by my stomach and my love of shared meals.
I wrote a cookbook about the farm and the family, and PBS has signed on to air a cooking show based on the book and the place. It will be filmed in the kitchen of the farmhouse. A sponsor has donated a cooking range. I want it to look as nice on camera as it does in my mind and heart. I love this place; my roots grow deep here.
The wallpaper took me an agonizing week to remove. The linoleum was another story. In fact, the linoleum itself wasn’t so bad; it was the tar paper between it and the floorboards that had (probably some time around the 1970’s) ceased to be paper and just became tar. Finding it made me want to cry, but I had an idea. I rented a drum sander. I would just shave off the top layer of the wood–which needed to be done anyway–taking the tar up with it. One foot into the project, the sandpaper was gummed to the point of no return. I no longer wanted to cry–I just cried.
cold-spring-night asparagus soup
View Ian Knauer’s recipe on page 69 »
I spent the next two weeks on my hands and knees applying hot water to the tar with a sponge before scraping it away an inch at a time. My pace was 3 square feet an hour. My knees stuck to the floor. My sweat poured off of me and into the freshly exposed ancient wood. I cursed my ancestors aloud. And, it is still not finished, but the area of the floor that houses the stove was the first order of business. Finally, the range was installed. To celebrate I called my family and friends to join me for a meal at the farm.
As they arrived in waves on a hot summer Saturday, everyone took turns admiring the stove and rolling their eyes at the remaining sticky patches of floor. But the promise of fresh produce can be a great distraction. The garden that I planted with my sisters last spring was in full bloom. We wandered through rows of tomatoes (and weeds) picking everything we would cook before we gathered on the front porch to eat.
It is true that hard work makes everything taste better, but roasted cherry tomato and homemade ricotta crostini are pretty wonderful even without hours of tar scraping under your belt. Little basil leaves always fall in just the right nooks when scattered over grilled ratatouille pizza. Blue cheese and freshly pulled beets is a marriage that no chef can outdo, especially when tied together with dill.
It is dinners like this one that remind me of my grandfather. He too loved this place and poured his time and sweat into its earth. But, he liked to remind us that the work and upkeep of the farm will always be here. There will always be a list of chores too long to finish in one lifetime. And, the most important work we can do is to love and feed each other and spend time together as a family. It is the easiest job of all–made even easier with Cherry-Sour Cream Crostatas.