Arugula Salad

In a writing career in which I have published, at the last tally, over two hundred recipes and counting, along with defending why my recipes have so many steps (because experienced cooks will know what to skip while new cooks panic less when they have specifics), the most frequent question I get is about side dishes. Every cook has their specialties, but none of us ever has enough side dishes. I am doing my part to ameliorate that. On Urban Home Blog you can locate good, easy recipes for everything from capellini with lemon and capers to wild rice, from potato gratin to fennel salad, from nana’s fire and ice to my grandmère’s vinaigrette to Mama Diva’s greens.  As readers, you respond to the side dish recipes – last year’s most clicked link of new content was the recipe for an iceberg lettuce wedge with blue cheese dressing.

No side dish is more important than a fresh salad. I wonder if I have written any phrase more often than “serve with an arugula salad,” but I find, surprisingly, that I have never actually published a recipe for one. We will be spending some time this spring in the salad patch, but first things first: below you will find the remedy to my oversight as we prepare a knockout side dish: arugula salad.

Arugula virtually defines the term “fresh,” for no green tastes more alive than fresh arugula. Arugula is known for its peppery flavor, which is among the strongest flavors in the salad bowl. It’s interesting, though, that it’s only fairly recently that arugula has become a familiar ingredient on the American table, and it is on that table that arugula is used primarily as a salad green. As recently as the 1990s arugula, though not unheard of, was an exotic ingredient that one might encounter in a restaurant or a farmer’s market but not in the clamshell that we have gotten used to seeing in the supermarket.

Arugula is a leafy green but not a lettuce, and it is a very old cultivar. There are records of its cultivation as far back as ancient Rome. There, along with parsley, a clump of arugula was added to the plate as much for its antiseptic properties as its flavor. In that time before toothpaste but in the context of other appetites for which ancient Rome was also known, the fact that something cleaned the mouth qualified that substance at least somewhat for status as an aphrodisiac.

From Roman culture arugula proceeded into Italian cooking, where it became a common ingredient in soup and atop pizza. It is tossed with pasta not just in Italian cooking but in eastern European cooking. In the latter, arugula is also served with cheese and boiled potatoes as a cold plate. In northern African cooking, arugula is a breakfast dish, especially if accompanying a piece of fish. Back in Italy, it is even used to make a digestif.

Here is a recipe for arugula salad. It is probably the simplest recipe I have ever published, but like all great ingredients, arugula is so perfect on its own that it benefits from care but rebels at fuss. Therefore use the freshest ingredients for your arugula salad, and welcome these bright flavors to compliment your weeknight dinner, Sunday supper or plate for one.

ARUGULA SALAD

Arugula can also be labeled roquette, rocket or ruccola. Look for bright green spear-shaped leaves that display no brown, black or yellow discoloration. The freshest arugula will be sold as a bunch with the roots intact, but there is nothing wrong with the cleaned arugula in the plastic bag provided it is not treated with preservatives; your best bet is one labeled “organic.” A lemon press is an essential item for your urban kitchen; you can get a good one here.

1 - 2 bunches fresh arugula or one bag prewashed organic arugula
1 lemon
Extra-virgin olive oil
Large-grain salt such as kosher or gray sea
Freshly ground black pepper

1. If using fresh arugula, pull or cut the leaves of the arugula from the sandy roots; discard the roots. Rinse the leaves under cool running water until they no longer feel gritty; place on several layers of paper towels to dry.

2. Clean the lemon under cool water (if the lemon is not organic, use a commercial produce cleaner, following the label directions). Once the lemon is clean, roll it along the counter under your palm. Use a sharp knife to cut the lemon in half.

3. When ready to assemble the salad, drizzle the bottom of a salad bowl with a two count of olive oil. Add a sprinkling of salt and several grindings of fresh black pepper.

4. Position a lemon half into a lemon press. Hold the lemon over the bowl and use the press to express some lemon juice onto the bottom of the bowl.

5. Distribute a layer of arugula along the bottom of the bowl. Hold the lemon press over the arugula and use the press to express some lemon juice onto the arugula. Sprinkle the arugula with salt and several grindings of fresh black pepper.

6. Continue layering arugula into the bowl and then dressing the arugula with fresh lemon juice, a sprinkling of salt, and several grindings of fresh black pepper. When the press runs dry, switch to the other lemon half.

7. Just before serving, drizzle the top of the salad with a five count of extra virgin olive oil. Use your hands to mix the oil into the dressed arugula. Serve immediately.

Salmon witth Lentils

We had our first kiss of spring in the northeast this weekend. The season’s first buttercups raised their new yellow heads to a few hours of golden sunshine before being joined, by the end of the day, by the navy blue heads of bachelor’s buttons that had just opened. I took advantage of the nice day to open the windows – I have often written about what are, to my mind as well as my grandmother’s, the proven benefits of a cleansing breeze. For the first time since last autumn, I didn’t need a heavy coat for a trip into Manhattan to pick up a few provisions to send to John out west. California has a lot to recommend it, but it doesn’t have Bagels on the Square, McNulty’s, Century 21 or J & R.  With my new portable DVD player, my upcoming flight to Los Angeles will pass a little quicker, and a hot cup of Gotham Blend, rationed as if it was wartime chocolate, will be waiting for me in the kitchen of our west coast urban home – as will, as the night progresses, a glass of that inarguable California contribution, pinot noir.

My journeys took me homeward around dinnertime, so I decided to stop into my favorite pub. When the Sparrow Tavern opened around the corner from our apartment in Astoria a few years ago, they instantly won my admiration for having the chutzpah to open smack dab across the street from the Bohemian Bier Garten.  Like a diner, to which it is more than passingly related, a pub succeeds when, as an anchor of a neighborhood, it is also a reflection of it. It’s in the etymology of the very word: “pub” comes from “publick house,” a place, typically an inn, where locals gather but travelers also feel welcome. Publick houses embody the sacred obligations of hospitality: food, drink and camaraderie conspiring to create welcome. Welcome becomes familiarity and at a pub, whether it’s your first time there or your umpteenth, you feel as if you’re home. Everyone needs a pub to call their own, and along with Tavern on Jane, I call the Sparrow mine.

Food and drink are the backbone of any pub, and while they don’t have to be fancy – in fact, to many, fanciness in a pub is a serious infraction – they must be good. The Sparrow’s kitchen turns out such good fare it has been featured on the Food Network. The hamburger is the measure of any American pub’s kitchen, and the Sparrow’s is very good, but the star of the menu is the fries, which are tossed with fried herbs and finished with duck fat. At the bar, the wine list is curated with an eye and a mouth towards California reds. I always have a pour of Wyatt, a deft red blend in which the muscle of cabernet sauvignon and the sinew of merlot dance gracefully together and duet beautifully with food.

This is another service pubs provide, for without them, solo diners would be consigned to a lot more nights of eating out of a box, a cereal bowl, a paper wrapper or not at all than we already are. I’m slightly ashamed to admit it and as a lifestyle writer I probably shouldn’t, but there have been nights where if it hadn’t been for a pub, I wouldn’t have eaten dinner at all. This is one of the reasons why a pub’s menu is varied. The menu is designed not just to offer the obligatory calories that, theoretically, tone down drunken hijinks but to appeal to solo diners by selection, portion and, again, camaraderie. In a pub, even if you’re eating alone, you are not eating alone.

It also offers talented chefs a chance to express their talent and their acumen. Though a pub’s menu is designed around basics, it is also designed to have character. Chefs working in pubs can expect to employ the basics of deep frying and grilling, but they also get to introduce dishes that cooks in a focused restaurant do not. Often this takes the form of highlighting a local ingredient, preparation or technique, and often the justification is simply that the chef likes it. We who are washing our beer down out front are the beneficiaries of this practice. The best slab of lasagna I ever had in my life didn’t proceed from an Italian home- or restaurant kitchen; it was in a pub in SoHo so old it still has gaslight. That same pub rolls its own pumpkin ravioli and mixes from scratch the cream sauce in which these are served. Another pub, unfortunately long since shuttered, served exemplary plates of both napa cabbage slaw and bleu cheese popovers. And another I can think of is known for its fried chicken.

One pub meal I never tire of is salmon with lentils. You encounter salmon on menus because it is a fish that almost everyone likes, but chefs can have a limited imagination with this fish. Simple grilling is the standby, usually as the crown on a main dish salad, and on the west coast, planked salmon is not uncommon. There is justification to the classic approach, as the rich character of this fish does not demand fuss and, in fact, is harmed by it. To illustrate this we turn, as our beloved pub chef does, to the masterful cooking of the French. In French cooking as in many other cuisines – notably, American – for key ingredients, there is often a city dish and a country dish. Whereas the city preparation of salmon might involve poaching in vermouth and a drizzle of mustard sauce, the country preparation is to serve salmon, simply roasted, over a bed of lentils. Roasting brings out the rich, satisfying character of salmon that is, in turn, an expression of French country cooking and an important skill for both home cook and chef to master. Here is a recipe for salmon with lentils, easy enough for those nights you didn’t make it to the pub and find yourself cooking for one. Serve your salmon with a crisp green salad and either a glass of chilled rosé or a good beer.

SALMON WITH LENTILS

The best salmon will be found at the fish counter. Look for rich pink flesh with ivory marbeling and no rosy or red spotting. Don't be shy about asking the fish monger where and how the fish was caught; you only want wild-caught Alaskan salmon.

1 8-ounce boneless salmon fillet
½ cup green or red lentils or a combination of the two
1 cup low sodium chicken stock
1 cup cold water
1 medium shallot
1 rib celery
1 small carrot
1 clove garlic
1 dried bay leaf
1 bunch fresh flat leaf parsley
½ tablespoon sherry or red wine vinegar
Extra virgin olive oil
Butter
Salt
Freshly ground black pepper

1. Heat the oven to 300 degrees.
2. Remove the salmon from its packaging. Place the fillet on a plate, silver skin side down. Use a clean paper towel to blot the fillet of excess moisture if any. Sprinkle the fillet with salt and several grindings of fresh black pepper.
3. Rinse the parsley and set aside to drain on a double layer of paper toweling.
4. Place a medium saucepan on the stove top. Add a two count of olive oil and a pat of butter to the saucepan.
5. Peel the carrot and rinse under cool water. Cut off and discard the top and bottom tip of the carrot.
6. Lay the carrot on a clean cutting board devoted to vegetables. Cut the carrot in half lengthwise; halve each half. Align the four quarters on the board and cut across them, forming tiny wedges. Cut across the larger wedges to form tinier pieces. Scrape the carrot into the saucepan.
7. Rinse the celery rib under cool water. Place the rib lengthwise on the cutting board. Cut across the top and the bottom of the rib; discard the calloused top and bottom of the rib. It is okay if some leaves remain. Cut the rib lengthwise in half; halve each half. Align the quarters and cut across the quarters to form dice. Scraped the diced celery into the saucepan containing the carrot.
8. Sprinkle the carrot and celery with salt. Turn the burner on medium to start melting the butter and cooking the carrot and the celery while you prepare the shallot.
9. Remove the root and stem ends of the shallot; remove the papery outer skin. Halve the shallot from root to stem; halve each half. Cut each quarter into crescents and then cut across the crescents to form dice. Scrape the diced shallot into the pan with the carrot and the celery.
10. Peel the garlic and remove the root end. Half the clove; remove and discard any sprouting from the center. Press the garlic through a garlic press into the mixture in the sauce pan. Use the tip of a knife to get all of the garlic into the pan.
11. Use a silicon spatula to mix all of the ingredients in the pan together. Use the spatula to stir the vegetables until the carrots and celery begin to express their liquid.
12. Once the carrots and celery begin to express their liquid, measure the lentils into the sauce pan. Use the spatula to incorporate the lentils into the vegetable-garlic mixture. Slowly measure the chicken stalk into the pan, and then slowly measure the water into the pan. Use the spatula to stir the lentils and the vegetables into the liquid. Add the bay leaf to the mixture in the pan.
13. Cover the pan and cook the lentils until tender, approximately 15 – 18 minutes. Check the mixture at 10 and 15 minutes.
14. After you cover the pan containing the lentils, line a small baking pan with a length of aluminum foil, shiny side up.  Spray the foil with non stick cooking spray. Drizzle the sprayed aluminum foil with a three-count of olive oil.
15. Gently place the seasoned salmon, flesh side down and silvery skin side up, into the baking pan. Make sure the flesh contacts the olive oil. Place the pan containing the salmon into the oven.
16. Cook the salmon until the fleshy top is crispy, approximately 15 minutes.
17. While the salmon and the lentils are cooking, place the cleaned parsley on the cutting board. Cut the leafy ends of the parsley into small pieces.
18. Once the lentils have absorbed the cooking liquid, turn off the burner and remove and discard the bay leaf. Measure the vinegar into the pan containing the lentils.  Add a generous handful of chopped parsley to the lentil mixture. Use the spatula to stir the mixture together.
19. Once the salmon is cooked, turn off the oven and remove the pan from the oven.
20. Gently layer a generous portion of lentils onto a plate or bowl. Gently place the roasted salmon, flesh side up and skin side down, on the lentils. Garnish with fresh parsley and several grindings of fresh black pepper. Serve immediately.

Weeknight Dinner: Chicken Stir-Fry

Stir fry occupies a curious place in the American kitchen and at the American table. Tablewise, it is another illustration of the strange and, it must be admitted, sometimes racist history of Chinese food in America. This is a distinction it shares with other dishes such as chow mein and chop suey.  Like most Chinese-American dishes, these have their roots in authentic Chinese cooking. For example, modern chop suey is identified as an evolution of the tsa tsui, a rough translation from the Mandarin for "a little bit of this and little bit of that," that was the pieces of meat and vegetables that were prepared at dinner time by Chinese immigrants who worked on the railroads in the American West.

Due to the railroads, the locus of Chinese immigrant culture at this time was the West, with San Francisco its epicenter. Chop Suey Parlors arose in San Francisco's Chinatown, a trend that spread west with key stops in Denver, Chicago and New York City. In these dining rooms, not only was chop suey on the menu, so were egg rolls, fried rice and a great many other dishes common to Chinese heritage but at that time alien to the American palate. Through these dining rooms, Americans were exposed to Chinese cooking, though not exactly an authentic version of it, and they liked it. Even today, most Chinese-American cooking comes right off of the takeout menu.

There is no good answer to the question of why Chinese cooking, of all the cuisines that contribute to the American table, is among the least authentic in expression.  In a theory that points, unfortunately but plausibly, to xenophobia, versions of which I have encountered everywhere from Ruch Reichl to food blogs, one could extrapolate that the American mind and the American palate experience authentic Chinese cooking as just plain off-putting.  In China as elsewhere in the world, people ate whatever was available, and, also as elsewhere in the world, that included what could be picked or caught. Many such ingredients weren't readily available on the North American continent (even though their counterparts were),  but they also weren't particularly necessary. Chinese cooking is highly adaptive -- the design of the wok itself speaks to that -- and so Chinese cooks took what was at hand and used the techniques of their own cooking to create dishes with those ingredients.

Chinese American cooking can be said to be the result of Chinese cooks adapting their tools and techniques to American ingredients. Aside from the adaptability the maneuver displays, it displays practicality, for as the restaurant culture spread, Chinese cooks could present their efforts to American eaters. The racism is unfortunate and undeniable, but while a culinarian acknowledges that and apologizes as warranted, what's fascinating is that a distinct hybrid cuisine emerged. And not only has the cuisine emerged, it has claimed its own place at the table and done so while pushing its own great grandparent away.

Which brings us to stir fry. Stir fry is one of the fundamental techniques for the Chinese practice of preparing food in a wok. There are two ways to stir fry: chao and bao. In wok cooking, the chef's goal is to bring out the wok hei - roughly translated as "the essence of the wok" - and display that in the dish. Chao and bao are methods with which to express wok hei.  The measure of the wok chef's facility is the distinction of flavors and textures within the final dish as that dish expresses the spirit of the wok.

For chao, food is tossed into a hot wok in a specific order and with a small pause between each for mixing: oil, dry season, meat, vegetables, liquid. The process is swift but there are allowances for the wok cook to mix food in the wok, even remove one ingredient in order to prepare the next. For bao, the wok is heated to red-hot and the  ingredients are added in rapid succession, without pause, while the wok is agitated by the cook.

For the most part, woks didn't arrive in the American kitchen until the 1970s, when thanks to the renaissance of foodie and consumerist cultures of the day, woks along with other then-exotic kitchen tools from French presses to pizza stones started appearing in stores. But as a technique, stir fry had arrived as a common practice in the non-Asian American kitchen as early as the 1950s, and you didn't need a wok to do it. By then, the zip top canned Chinese dinner of infinite suburban week nights was an established pantry item. For more adventurous home cooks of the time, Beverly Pepper's Glamour Magazine After Five Cookbook (©1951/2) provided the recipe for an Oriental Hodgepodge (their term, not mine) in which noodles, chunked chicken, mushrooms, bamboo shoots and soy sauce were flash-sautéed in hot oil.

Since then, stir-fry has become a skill fundamental to the American home kitchen. For our stir fry, we are saluting Chinese cuisine's deep, robust flavors but we are making no claims to authentic Chinese cooking. This is a Chinese -American kitchen stir fry of chicken, vegetables, soy sauce and ginger, to be served over rice. If you have a wok, it can be prepared in one, but it can also be prepared in a sauté pan; the recipe below is written for both. Once you master the simple technique of stir-fry, you will find that, with a few ingredients, a satisfying weeknight dinner is never more than a flash away.

CHICKEN STIR FRY

A wok is a good item to have in your urban kitchen but it is only essential if you do a lot of Chinese or Chinese-American cooking. You can get a good wok here. Remember that you will have to season your wok before its first usage; the seasoning instructions should be included with the wok.

1 tablespoon peanut oil plus more if needed
3 medium cloves garlic
1 3-4 inch piece fresh ginger
1-1-1/2 pounds whole boneless chicken breasts
1 pound fresh Asian mushrooms, such as shiitake, oyster or a combination
1 red bell pepper
1 bunch scallions
1/2 pound fresh snow peas or 1 8 ounce package frozen snow peas
1 teaspoon cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon dried red pepper flakes
1/2 cup chicken stock, homemade or low sodium canned
2 tablespoons soy sauce
2 teaspoons rice wine vinegar

Prepare the ingredients
1. Place a cutting board, two mixing bowls, a colander, a plate and a small bowl or cup near the cooking surface.
2. Place a drop of commercial vegetable cleaner in your palm and rub your palms together.  Rub the pepper with your palms until it begins to feel  clean. Rinse the pepper and your hands under a stream of cool water.
3. Place the cleaned pepper on the cutting board. Cut the pepper in half from cap to bottom. Cut away and discard the stem; cut away and discard any white pith from inside each half. Rinse each half under warm water to remove the seeds; if saving seeds for planting, do this step over a fine mesh sieve to catch the seeds. Cut off the rounded top and bottom of each half; cut into bite-sized pieces (it is okay if they are uneven). Working one halved pepper at a time, flatten each remaining pepper, skin side down, against the cutting board. Cut each flattened half into 1/2-inch strips. Scrape the pepper into the colander.
4. Lay the scallions on the cutting board. Align the scallions side by side and across the bottom. Use a sharp knife to cut across the bottom of the row of scallions to remove and discard the stringy root ends of the scallions. Use the knife to cut across the green tops of the scallions to remove and discard the browned or papery tops of the greens. Though it will not be uniform, some green should remain on each scallion. Use your hands to pull away and discard the papery outer skin of each scallion where present; not all scallions will have this.
5. Use the knife to cut each scallion in half lengthways from green top to white bottom. Use the knife to cut each scallion half in half lengthways from green top to white bottom. Align each scallion quarter lengthways and use the knife to cut the gathered scallions crossways into thirds. Scrape the julienned scallions into the colander with the pepper.
6. If using fresh snow peas, pick through them, discarding any that display discoloration. Place the snow peas in the colander with the pepper and the scallions.  If using frozen snow peas, remove the snow peas from the packaging and place the frozen block of vegetables into the colander with the pepper and the scallions.
7. Rinse the vegetables in the colander under a stream of cool water.  Leave the colander in the sink to drain while you prepare the mushrooms and the chicken.
8. Brush the fresh mushrooms with a mushroom brush or a soft toothbrush to remove debris if any. Use a paring knife to remove the calloused end from the bottom of each mushroom. Cut larger mushrooms into quarters. Transfer the prepared mushrooms into one of the mixing bowls.
9. Remove the chicken breasts from their packaging. Use a sharp knife and a clean cutting board reserved for poultry to trim the breasts of the tenderloin if it is present. The tenderloin is the strip that is attached to the meaty portion of the chicken breast, separated by a membrane. Freeze the tenderloin for another use. Slice each chicken breast it in half horizontally by placing the palm of your hand on the top of the thickest part of the breast and holding your knife parallel to the cutting board. Slice carefully, watching your hands and moving the edge of the knife away from you. Slice across the cutlets to form strips. Transfer the strips to the plate. Cover the plate with parchment paper or a layer of paper towels.
10. Peel each clove of garlic and remove the root ends. Halve each clove; remove and discard any sprouting from the center. Slice each half longways into slivers and then slice each sliver longways into matchsticks. Transfer the garlic to the cup.
11. Use a vegetable peeler to remove the rough outer skin of the ginger. Carefully use the tip of a sharp knife to cut away and discard any spots that display dark or pale discoloration. Cut each rounded protuberance from the ginger; set these aside for another use. Cut across the trimmed center of the ginger to form coins. Stack the coins and cut across them to form matchsticks.  Transfer the ginger to the cup containing the garlic.
12. Pour the chicken stock, soy sauce and rice wine vinegar into the remaining mixing bowl. Add the red pepper flakes and the cornstarch. Use a wire whisk to incorporate the cornstarch into the liquid.

Make the stir-fry
1. If using a wok, follow the instructions provided with the wok to correctly position the ring on the burner. You may have to remove the grate from gas burners; again, consult the instructions. Position the wok on the ring and turn the burner to high. If using a sauté pan, place the pan on the burner and turn the heat to high. For either pan, place the lid within reach.
2. Measure the oil into the pan. Swirl the oil around the bottom of the pan.
3. Add the garlic-ginger mixture to the pan. Use a silicon spatula to get all of the mixture into the pan. Swirl the mixture in the pan.
4. Add the chicken to the pan. Use a wooden paddle or heat-safe spatula to move the mixture around in the pan around until the chicken browns.
5. Add the pepper-scallion mixture to the pan. Use the paddle or spatula to move the mixture around in the pan until it is well combined.
6. Add the liquid to the pan. Use the paddle or spatula to move the mixture around in the pan until it is well combined.
7. Put the lid on the pan.  Let the mixture cook, covered, for 3 minutes.
8. Remove the lid from the pan. Use the paddle or spatula to move the mixture around in the pan.
9.  Add the mushrooms to the pan. Put the lid on the pan. Let the mixture cook, covered, for 3 minutes.
10. Remove the lid from the pan and set the lid aside. Use the paddle or spatula to move the mixture around in the pan, testing for doneness and ensuring that the ingredients are well distributed throughout the dish.
11. Turn off the burner. Serve immediately.

Caring for Cut Flowers

So how did you do on Valentine’s Day?  Did you score a box of chocolates, some naughty underclothes, a fancy dinner, a mushy card?  Maybe all of the above and then some?  I hope so, and I will add my point of view that, as a lifestyle writer and despite some marketing efforts to direct us otherwise, this holiday doesn’t refer just to romantic love but to affections of all kinds. Yes, lovers have their ways of celebrating this holiday, but so do families and friends. However and between whomever it is celebrated, Valentine’s Day offers a mid-winter breath of fresh air, as after the deep digging in of January’s post-holiday rest period we emerge, as ready for a kiss of spring’s early promise as for a chaste peck on the cheek or a more focused effort on the mouth.

However we celebrated Valentine’s Day, chances are it involved flowers. Even during these times of economic challenge, most florists report that Valentine’s Day is their busiest delivery day of the year. (If you’re curious, as I was, Mother’s Day, though neck and neck [is that hickey and cameo?] with Valentine’s Day, is second). No one could be surprised to learn that the red rose is the official ambassador of Valentine’s Day, but what do you think comes in at number two? If you think a rose by any other color smells just as sweet you’re right, but after roses the most popular floral arrangement for Valentine’s Day is the fragrant tussie mussie. A tussie mussie is a compact cluster of flowers. Valentine’s Day floral arrangements presage spring, so the Valentine’s Day tussie mussie typically incorporates such spring blossoms as dependable carnations, vivid tulips, fragrant hyacinth or freesias, and a few roses if there were any to spare.

Once fresh flowers are delivered into the home, they become part of the household, however temporally. They provide beauty and I, for one, am convinced they facilitate harmony. If you doubt this, just ask any hapless mate who forgot to order flowers last week if disharmony resulted, and what it took to restore it. Anyone who’s encountered an arrangement of them, from modest to spectacular, will affirm that cut flowers have a definite presence. Most decorators cannot fathom designing a living space without plants, floral or otherwise. Whether your flowers are cut or living and whether your garden is indoors, outdoors or both, plants add so much to a home. They really do become members of the family, and they merit your care.

Florists refer to the care of fresh cut flowers as conditioning. It is simple to provide for cut flowers, and below are some guidelines to help you do that. In return for your learning to condition cut flowers, they will reward you with the beauties of color, fragrance and form for as long as their vase life allows.

CONDITIONING CUT FLOWERS

There’s no delicate way to phrase this: to cut a stem from a flowering plant is to remove an appendage from a living being. Don't worry: if the cut was done properly, there should be no harm to the parent plant. This is among the reasons to always and only obtain cut flowers from a certified florist or to correctly take cuttings from your own garden.

Caring for cut flowers is the skill of prolonging such qualities of the plant as color, fragrance or form that are represented by the cutting while understanding the specific needs of the cutting in order to provide them. Though some species of cuttings have their own requirements, the primary needs of all cuttings are water, nutrition and a sterile life support system.

The most pressing need for a cutting is water. A flower stem is filled with vascular cells that behave like straws, absorbing water into the cells of the cutting through a mechanism known as capillary action. As long as the cut end of the stem is submerged in water, capillary action continues, but some harm is done to the capillary process upon the cutting as air molecules cluster around the cut and form a barrier to the open end of the capillaries. This is why a cut flower’s demand for water is continuous and must be satisfied: the longer that cutting goes without water after the cut, the less vascular capacity remains. The less vascular capacity the stem retains, the shorter its vase life will be. It is vital to place a cut stem into water as soon as possible after cutting – the ideal timing is immediately – which is why some gardeners actually cut stems under a spray of water.

Flower food is the term for what's contained in those little packets that florists supply with cut flowers. These packets contain a formulation that supports the processes of the cut stem. Typically, the components of these formulae are a biocide, an acidifier and a sugar. The biocide is a compound that destroys the microorganisms (principally bacteria and fungi) that begin to collect at the site of the cut as well as those present in the water. There are biocides that can be dusted onto the cut -- one primarily encounters these at flower farms -- but most floral biocides are dissolved in the water that houses the stems. The acidifier supports the stem's vascular system, and the sugar acts as a nutrient.

Most florists supply flower food with an order of cut flowers, and you can order a good one here. You can make your own effective compound by adding a drop of household bleach (click here for an explanation of what compound at what level must be listed on the label to qualify) and a tablespoon of sugared lemon-lime soda to the vase water. Whether you choose to fortify the vase water with commercial plant food or a home-made compound, always use cool filtered water, and be prepared to change it often, treating every change of water with a new dosage of food.

Fresh cut flowers are delivered either as arrangements or as individual stems, and arrangements are categorized either as fancy or informal.  Fancy arrangements are those that are designed either professionally or avocationally and anchored into a display vessel. Informal arrangements are gatherings of flowers housed together in open water. Individual stems are either chosen on site at the florist or taken as live cuttings from a private garden. These distinctions inform conditioning. After admiration, the first step upon receipt of fresh flowers is to determine what kind of arrangement they are, and then condition them accordingly.

Fancy arrangements will be anchored into a display vessel using a crosshatched or spiky cage known as a flower frog, a block of drenched foam known as floral foam, or a combination of these. You may also encounter such tricks of the trade as floral tape. For arrangements packed into foam or arranged into a frog, use your finger to feel under the greens to monitor the moisture level and to locate a place to add water. Mix floral food into cool, clean water in a watering can with a thin spout. Working carefully, water the arrangement either at the spot you located with your finger or, if the arrangement allows, into the center of the arrangement. The water level should reach just below the lip of the display container. Monitor the arrangement daily, and water as indicated. So conditioned, fresh arrangements should last 4 – 8 days.

Informal arrangements may be presented in a vase or, as may individual stems, may be wrapped in cellophane or tissue and either presented that way or in a box. For wrapped flowers, the cuts will be either wrapped in drenched paper or housed in individual water-filled vials. For informal arrangements or individual stems, the best conditioning for your flowers is to refresh them with cool water and then arrange them in fortified water.

To do this, clean the bathroom or kitchen sink with a disinfecting wipe and stop the drain. Place an unfolded towel on a flat, sturdy surface near the sink. Fill the sink with a shallow pool of cool water.  Working quickly but delicately, place the flowers into the shallow pool of water in the sink, making sure that all of the cuts are submerged. If they aren’t, run the tap on cool until the pool of water is deep enough for the cuts to be submerged.  For flowers delivered with individual vials of water dressing the cuts, work below the water line to remove and discard the vials with the cut ends of the flowers submerged in the sink.

If the arrangement was delivered in a vase, once you have placed the flowers into the sink, empty the water from the vase down the bath/shower drain. Add a drop of household bleach to this vase or one from your own collection and fill the vase ½ full with warm water from the bath/shower spigot. Swirl the bleach-water compound in the vase and then empty the compound down the bath/shower drain. Rinse the vase and fill it ½ full with cool water. Mix flower food into the water in the vase. Place the filled vase upright on the towel beside the sink.

Working below the water line, use floral clippers or strong household shears to administer a new cut to each stem ½ inch above the previous cut, while keeping the cut end of each stem under water. Still working below the water line, use the clippers/shears to remove any leaves that will be below the water line once the flowers are in the vase. Working quickly but delicately, lift the re-cut flowers out of the sink and position the flowers in the clean, fortified water in the vase. Monitor the arrangement daily, and change the water as indicated using the steps above. So conditioned, fresh arrangements should last 4 – 8 days.

When placing flowers in a room, do not subject them to extremes of light, heat or electronic activity, as such exposure shortens the vase life of fresh flowers. Do not position fresh flowers near heating units or electronic equipment (including television, stereo, computer equipment and chargers) or in direct sunlight. Tabletop is the traditional placement for fresh cut flowers, but that can extend to shelves (including windowsills if the light is indirect), countertops, and dressers and nightstands. As a rule, cut flowers do well in cool (though not freezing) conditions, and some, such as orchids, must be kept cold.

Exposure to adverse conditions leads to listless flowers, a condition known as wilt. Wilting flowers may exhibit discoloration or drooping flower heads, shed their petals, or emit an unpleasant odor. Though a conditioning bath in the sink as detailed above can sometimes revive wilting flowers, for the most part when a flower starts to wilt, that is an irreversible process. Preventing wilting is another reason why conditioning is so important, and another reason why it is so important to obtain flowers from an accredited florist.

It is worth noting that many cuttings that find themselves in the flower vase are not flowers at all. Some of these survive perfectly fine in the vase and some should not have been cut for arrangements to begin with. For example, many vegetable cuttings from kale to peppers can contribute wonderful color, texture and interest, but be prepared to replenish these as they will not last as long as the blooms in the arrangement will, and you may find that chlorophyll from some vegetable cuttings will leach into the water. Fresh herbs can contribute much to an arrangement, or even make a lively one of their own. Flowering branches are a wonderful addition to arrangements, especially during autumn and winter, and like herbs can make wonderful arrangements on their own. Other non-flowering stems that can contribute to an arrangement include palm, fern, ginger, bamboo and holly.

Some plants should never be included in the vase. For example, though both bromeliads and poinsettias have flowers, the most widely recognized colorful parts of these plants are not their flowers, they are leaves pigmented differently than green. Though cuttings from these plants can be propagated by someone who knows how, they do not easily survive life in the vase. Nor do cuttings from cacti and succulents. In all of these instances, doing a cutting for any reason other than one done correctly for propagation harms the plant. It goes without saying that poisonous plants should never be approached at all.

Roses and other flowering branches and woody stems require adjustment to the conditioning process. Strip any leaves that will be submerged while leaving thorns, hips, buds, berries or secondary branches alone. Working individually, use strong garden clippers to re-cut each stem at an angle one inch above the original cut. Use a tack hammer to lightly distress the new cut, which broadens the space across which the vascular system can spread. Place the conditioned stem into fortified water into a display vessel, and monitor as above.

You need only to learn these basic precepts and to master these basic skills to become a certified amateur florist, but don’t neglect building a good relationship with a local florist.  Your local florist will appreciate your business and will respond to interest in their profession. They are an invaluable resource for questions about floral design and flower conditioning. Most importantly, whether you ask your florist for a few blooms to tuck into a vase in your home or to deliver an arrangement on your behalf to another location, one with whom you have a relationship will be able to interpret your sentiments and represent them through the magical language of flowers.

Field Trip: Li-Lac Chocolates

If pressed, most New Yorkers who relocate to Southern California will admit that they miss the four seasons. This year, I learned that spending January in the land of endless summer has a lot to recommend it. As I remarked on the day of, I don’t recall the last time I had a sunny day for my birthday. But now I’m back in the northeast, where winter’s worst has been weathered, and we’re halfway to spring. I find myself edging, groundhoglike, out of the burrow of my east coast urban home, and onto the walking streets that define the New York experience just as surely as the freeway defines LA.

Rereading last autumn’s column about a stroll through Greenwich Village reminds me that my New York is centered in the Village and that the Village is at its most glorious on a crisp autumn day. But then that’s true of the northeast in general, as ochre images of cider mills and maple trees fill the storybook pages of our imagination before winter blasts us back to black and gray reality. Readers of Urban Home already understand that autumn is my favorite season, and I am not certain if I will be able to stay away from New York City when that time rolls around this year.

Of course, though we’re on the way to spring we haven’t actually gotten there, and as I reestablish my linkage with my east coast urban home, it becomes less about comparing the two locations and more about appreciating each one’s special qualities. You’ve heard the phrase “comparing apples and oranges."  How about comparing the Big Apple to the Big Orange?

Over the course of the winter, Urban Home Blog focused on growth, expansion, moves, changes, and California. It’s always important to recognize our own roots, and after a commitment to move forward with the acknowledgements of looking back, we started the year with a good breakfast from my grandmother’s Oklahoma kitchen. We inaugurated the first in a series of articles about the necessary skill of cooking for one. We even had some fun with the irony of the Manhattan on the rocks as LA's cocktail of standard. And, as Valentine’s Day dawned – which John and I spent, for the first time in our twenty years together, apart – we indulged in the sweet, inspiring history of that great Los Angeles institution, See’s Candies.

Back on our Greenwich Village stroll, a cobblestone apex typical of the West Village street grid finds us facing Li-Lac Chocolates. This windowed store overlooks the stretch of Federal homes that house a bed and breakfast, a charming wine store, and the compass point of the Tavern on Jane on one side, with the Corner Bistro and an authentic Village coffee house around the corner. This is a relatively new location for Li-Lac. Vintage Villagers remember Li-Lac's quainter accommodations on Christopher Street. Li-Lac had been in that location since 1923, when a Greek immigrant opened the doors to a tiny room devoted to selling chocolates in the front and hand-dipping them in the back.

George Demetrious had studied the art of chocolate in France. His intention in opening the Christopher Street location was to honor the art by preparing and packaging his chocolates in the tradition of a chocolatier. Chocolate and fillings were prepared in large copper kettles. The chocolate was tempered on chilled marble tabletops. Each candy was hand-dipped and finished with a swirled "signature" to identify the filling. Though Mr. Demetrious died in 1972, his recipes and techniques are still used for Li-Lac's chocolates today.

Li-Lac has been a true artisan's business since its inception. Ownership has passed through a line of Li-Lac devotees, both employee and customer. Mr. Demetrious bequeathed the legacy of Li-Lac to an employee named Marguerite Watt, who in a plot device worthy of Roald Dahl was hand-chosen by the chocolatier to succeed him. She inherited the equipment, recipes, and lease on the increasingly gentrifying Christopher Street.  She ran Li-Lac with fidelity to Mr. Demetrious' vision until her retirement. At that time, she sold the business to a devoted customer who lived around the corner from the Christopher Street shop. As a caterer, he often stopped by for bulk orders for his own business, and as he and Marguerite got to know each other, she began to feel that his would be the most capable hands to which she could trust the Li-Lac legacy.

Mr. Demetrious' faith in Marguerite was well-earned, for that was the correct judgment on her part. After Marguerite sold Li-Lac to him, Edward Bond became a significant contributor to the Li-Lac story. Anyone who visits Li-Lac today remarks upon the impressive selection of molded chocolates. That is a legacy of Ed Bond, who acquired the molds with a vision to add exemplary molded chocolates to the hand-dipped lines. Every New Yorker who orders a chocolate Easter bunny, Halloween scarecrow, Thanksgiving turkey, or Christmas tree from Li-Lac has Mr. Bond's vision to thank for that tradition. Ed even designed the flowered packaging still in use today.

Further conservators of the Li-Lac legacy have included Ed's sister Martha, the Merritt family and its current owner, a former advertising executive. Each owner of Li-Lac chocolates inherits a Village institution. A visit to Li-Lac is as much a part of Village living as McNulty's, the Halloween parade, or the Strand. Li-Lac is one of the few candy stores in town where you can buy a single piece of candy, and when you do, you are buying a piece made in the mode of its predecessors. George Demetrious brought more than a reverence for the art of chocolate to that storefront on Christopher Street. He opened the doors to a chapter of Greenwich Village history. Li-Lac has been around long enough to witness the Village transform from an epicenter of immigrant culture through beats, hippies and Pride to gentrification. Every sweet bite contains the taste of history.

Field Trip: See's Candies

We make a lot of fuss about grandmothers at Urban Home Blog.  We even have a content area devoted to her kitchen -- when you're done reading this article just move your mouse to the right, and click on "Grandma's Kitchen." It is no secret how important my grandmother was to me. Writing about that is a cornerstone of Urban Home Blog; in fact is much of the reason I write about lifestyle to begin with. I have also written about a German nana and a French grandmère, but all grandmothers are important. Some make fudge and some make moonshine, some go to church and some dance on pool tables, some grow lavender and some grow hemp. No matter the grandmothers you have, you are lucky to have them. And, universally, their symbol is the kitchen.

If ever there was a grandma whose kitchen's output you want to have access to, it is Mary See. And, luckily for your taste buds if not exactly for your waistline, you can. For Mary See was not just the inspiration for but the expertise around which a candy empire was built, and still revolves. Mary See was the See in See's Candies, an iconic confectionery, a good ole American success story and, most importantly, just about the best candy you will ever scarf.

It was not all that long ago that candy-making was an expected part of a homekeeper's repertoire of skills. Yes, professional confectioners existed, and an occasional splurge there was welcome, but in that time, the barometer of excellence was the home kitchen rather than the professional one. Just as households canned their own jam and bottled their own ketchup, so did they make their own candy. These skills were sources of pride, pursued with the intention of achieving excellence. As with canning and bottling, candy making is both an art and a science, and domestic guidebooks from the times contained highly detailed instructions for these special skills. As with any artful kitchen skill, some cooks discovered they had an affinity for candy-making.

One such was Mary See. Though See's is associated with California, Mary Wiseman was born in Canada, in a small town in the Thousand Island area of the St. Lawrence River. Mary and her husband Alexander See ran an area resort. Charles, the oldest of their three children, would become the candy company's founder.

In 1919, Mary found herself a widow. Concurrently, Alexander, a successful pharmacist, lost his business to fire. This was post gold rush and post Armistice, and Alexander found himself competing for work with veterans of both. He got a job as a salesman for a bulk chocolate manufacturer. He was as successful at this as he was at pharmacy, which reinforced the enterprising dimension of Charles' character. In 1920, the world's attention was on an emerging metropolis far down the American Pacific coastline, where the heretofore unheralded occurrence of a film colony was impelling a burgeoning economy in a land where sunshine was equated with promise. As did many, Charles moved his family to Los Angeles. In a maneuver that would bind the Sees forever to the cultural landscape of California, he brought his mother along.

Mary See had always been known for her candy making. She was a master confectioner whose recipes had been perfected during decades of work. She insisted on the highest quality ingredients and her awareness of process and detail -- crucial qualities for any cook, but drawn into sharp focus in candy making -- was legendary. She had been making candy so well and for so long that it was little effort for her to translate her proprietary recipes from small batch to large batch. And that was fortunate, for her son envisioned a string of shops selling her candy, made with her legendary prowess and packed into boxes stamped with her picture.

The first See's Candy Shop opened on Western Avenue in 1921. A gleaming kitchen was in the back, while the selling floor out front was decorated, appropriately for the early days of the movie colony, in what would become See's signature black and white style, which in turn referred to Mary's sparkling clean kitchen. Graphic black and white is a hallmark of the early days of art deco, and those influences are visible in photos of early See's shops from the streamlined lighting fixtures to the curvy uniforms of the attendants. But, as is perhaps distilled in the act of opening a confectionery to begin with, high style was the setting for business acumen: the black and white shops looked vibrant and clean, and made Mary's candy the star of the show.

Actually, it just about leaped out of the case, for See's Candies was almost immediately a success.  The second store soon opened in the Graumann's Chinese building, and by 1925 there were a dozen shops in Los Angeles. Mary's candy and Charles' business skills were so good that See's weathered the Great Depression not just well but with kindness. In order to keep as many stores open and as many people employed as possible, they lowered the price of the candy -- not incidentally allowing a few more customers to smile than might otherwise have been able to.

As See's was building a successful business, Los Angeles was becoming the largest city on the west coast and, alongside and some would say ahead of New York City and Washington DC, the preeminent metropolitan influence for the country. See's was an undeniable part of this, as See's stores and pavilions opened everywhere from shopping promenades to Worlds Fairs. But in whatever geography you are eating See's candy, you are partaking of a phenomenon as endemic to Southern California as In N Out Burger. Of all of California's contributions and symbols -- from Cobb Salad to sourdough, from wine country to the beach, from Haight-Ashbury to Hollywood -- to find one that has put as many smiles on as many faces as See's Candies, you have to look to the movies themselves.

Mary See died in 1939. Every home keeper leaves a legacy. Mary See's legacy is a testament to the power of domestic talent. Today See's operates over two hundred shops throughout the west as well as licensing kiosks in airports and large shopping centers. The See family no longer owns See's, but Charles' founding principals and, most importantly, Mary's confectionery talents still guide the company. The candy is still made according to Mary's recipes -- and, yes, her picture is still on the box.

Terrariums

In writing about sourdough last month, I wrote about Candlemas. That was because I wanted to be sure than anyone who was baking bread for Imbolc not only had time to prepare the starter but the chance to recognize the sacred act of bread baking. Candlemas and Imbolc are the ancient celebrations of the strengthening of the sun after the dark six weeks pursuant to the winter solstice. February 2 marks the halfway point to the spring equinox. There are plenty of ways to celebrate, and the ancient treat of bread and jam are among them. As Imbolc, Candlemas is the complimentary holiday to Lammas, the midpoint between the summer solstice and the autumn equinox. At Lammas, we celebrate the wheat harvest by grinding flour and the fruit harvest by making jam, and at Imbolc we remember those warmer days past and yet to come by baking bread and opening a fresh jar of jam.

It is no coincidence that Candlemas is also Groundhog Day. Yes, we love our yearly check-in with our favorite over-sized, ill-tempered rodent, but all of creation seems to feel the quickening towards springtime. We still spend more time indoors than out, but winter's fireside activities are yielding to the promise of spring's open windows. Seed gardeners traditionally start seedlings at this time, pressing seed into soil in order to germinate tender new growth by the equinox. The urge to welcome growth will continue to assert itself in ways from spring cleaning to a stop by the florist's for a few blossoms to plunk into a vase. January leads us to February, from staying inside for reasons ranging from blizzards to holiday bills to venturing out again for reasons ranging from a ceremony to welcome the strengthening sun to a panicked last-minute run for roses and chocolates. Just ask that groundhog -- winter is about burrowing and spring is about sticking your head out of the burrow.

When John and I set up our Los Angeles apartment, John surprised me by sharing that he had always liked terrariums and suggesting we include one in that space. Not only was this a great idea, it was an appropriate one, as we were setting up housekeeping in January. It may not have been snowy but it was still winter, and if living in two climates teaches anything, it is that the spirit of time interacts with the character of place. January teaches the richness of the possibilities within constraints. What exemplifies this better than a garden that thrives because it is encased?

A terrarium is a miniature garden encased in glass. It is a specialized form of dish garden, but without the glass enclosure, it isn’t a terrarium. Terrarium gardeners must be aware of the distinction because it the glass enclosure not only provides creative expression and learning possibilities, it dictates the kinds of plants to be used and their care. A terrarium is an ecosystem. Condensation forms when moisture is introduced into the sealed environment, and with a little help from the terrarium’s caretaker, the natural processes of botanical lives engage between the plants, the moisture, and the growing medium. Though the terrarium gardener will occasionally need to perform such tasks as watering, trimming or, it must be considered, pest management, in many ways, a terrarium is self-sustaining.

Plants thrive by being in the correct, localized environment for their requirements. For many plants, terrarium living is an ideal situation. Plants suited to terrariums thrive in them. Appropriate plants for a beginner’s terrarium include small ferns, bromeliads, ivy, bird’s nest, nerve plants, begonias, mosses and air plants. Once you get used to these, you can build more exotic terrariums using such plants as orchids, some succulents, lichens and fungi, or carnivores. To determine what plants are suitable for your terrarium, memorize the phrase "small, low and high." This refers to the three key requirements for a plant to thrive in an enclosed environment: small in size while responsive to low light and high humidity.

Vessels for terrariums should be constructed of breathable glass and should provide an opening for air to circulate. This winter, I've seen terrarium vessels at home stores including Crate and Barrel and West Elm. The local nursery can supply plants, growing media, vessels and, often, classes. Tovah Martin's The New Terrarium is an excellent book on the subject, and there are many online gardening communities.

As you construct your terrarium and find the perfect low-light location to house it, take this time to tend to all of the leafy members of your family. Visit with each of your plants as you water, feed and reposition them for light exposure as indicated. Gently trim overgrown plants and reward them for bravely enduring their haircut by replenishing their top soil. Honor the cycle of growth and decay by feeding this spent growth into the mulch. As you care for your new terrarium and all of the green members of your family, time will pass, and soon it will be spring.

TERRARIUM

Activated charcoal is available at many nurseries and any store that sells aquarium supplies. Regular potting soil works just fine for this simple, basic terrarium.

Terrarium supplies
Glass vessel large enough to accommodate plants
Activated charcoal
Potting soil
Selection of plants suitable for terrarium living

Gardening supplies
Gardening gloves
Trowel
Large plant-safe container dedicated to gardening
Spray bottle dedicated to gardening
Moisture meter

Build the terrarium
1. Gently rinse the container with warm water and set aside to air dry.
2. Position a layer of newspaper or a large cardboard box on your working space. Put on gardening gloves.
3. Working over the newspaper or box, use a trowel to measure two to three scoops of potting soil into a clean container reserved for plant care. Measure one-half scoop of activated charcoal into the soil. Use your gloved hands to mix the charcoal into the soil.
4. Once the container is dry, move the container to the working surface. Measure one-half scoop activated charcoal into the container. Use your gloved hands to distribute the charcoal across the bottom of the container. If warranted, add more charcoal to the container until the charcoal reaches a layer of one-inch.
5. Use the trowel to add a two-inch layer of charcoal-infused potting soil to the container. Use your gloved hands to pat the soil down. Continue adding charcoal-infused potting soil to the container and patting it down at successive two-inch marks until the soil layer reaches one-fourth to one-third full.
6. Remove the terrarium plants from their growing containers and gently shake them to remove any packed soil or other growing or shipping media.
7. Position the plants on the soil. There should be room for your fingers to pass between the plants.
8. Use the trowel or your hands to gently add enough potting soil to the terrarium to cover all roots and to stabilize the plants. Pat the soil down.
9. Use a spray bottle to thoroughly water the soil and mist the plants. For the first couple of days, check the terrarium and water/reposition/trim the plants if and as indicated.
10. Place the container in an area where it will receive plentiful but indirect light.

Care for the terrarium
• For the first two days, visit the terrarium a few times to note how the ecosystem is doing. It is good to see moisture collected on the inside wall of the vessel and plants with full leaves and good, bright coloring. Adjust potting depth, moisture level, et cetera if and as indicated. If any plants seem not to be adjusting to or to be harming the system, remove and repot elsewhere/discard as indicated.
• Once the terrarium establishes its ecosystem, visit the terrarium weekly for large terrariums and twice weekly for small terrariums. Use a moisture meter to determine when to water/mist. Trim plants and or perform pest control if and as indicated.

Care for specialized plants
• Caring for all plants is a commitment; specialized plants require special commitment. All specialized plants should come with planting and care instructions. In addition, gardening for specialized plants is supported by the local county extension, nurseries, and online communities. For terrariums, the three most common specialized plants are orchids, air plants and mosses.
• For orchids, follow the planting and care instructions included with the plant to ensure that you are correctly caring for the roots.
• For air plants, position the plants after you have positioned the soil-dwelling plants. Follow the watering instructions included with the plant.
• For mosses, gently tear sheets or clumps of moss and distribute across the top of the soil. Gently mist the moss so that it has the chance to “grab” the soil.