Country ways are new to me. I grew up in a town, and now live in a city. But two years ago we bought a farm, an old farm that we've been fixing up, and this is the first winter we've been able to spend time here, now that we have winterized plumbing, more or less. Right now, I'm sitting by the wood-fired cast-iron cookstove in my down jacket, winter boots and gloves. I just unfroze the kitchen drain with a heat gun and shovelled the car out from a tall snowbank in the lane. I hope the pipes don't freeze tonight.

I'm an impostor at the farm -- my neighbour farms our fields. As for animals, we have barn swallows, hawks, pigeons, groundhogs, garter snakes, and the occasional rabbit that makes tracks in the snow.

'We discovered that brass cookware from India works beautifully on the cookstove -- especially for dishes that require long, slow cooking, like stews and curries, the kinds of food we most want to eat mid-winter at the farm'

I'm not a farmer, just a bystander. We come to the farm from the city to be somewhere different, like boarding an airplane and flying to another country. It's travel, no matter how many times we come, no matter how long we are here.

The food here's different, too. In local restaurants the french fries are made from real potatoes. The potatoes are cut and then deep-fried, sometimes double-fried, most often with their skins left on -- not those awful fake, dehydrated, frozen flour-dipped french fries so often served in the city. These are really good. But we don't eat out that much.

In the summer, we have an old Weber grill outside the house. We throw a bunch of wood inside the grill, let it burn down, then throw another pile of wood on top (we have a lot of old wood to burn), and let that burn down. Then we cook on beautiful hot coals. There is a Scottish butcher a few minutes north and a German butcher a few minutes south, and there are organic gardeners to buy from, even an organic dairy. And then, of course, there are tomatoes and fresh corn. We eat really well in the summer, up here at the farm.

But winter's another thing altogether. The food's just as good, but the cooking's different, cozier, soups and stews and simmering curries -- winter food. We cook on a cookstove, the Woodsman, a cast-iron campstove made by a foundry in Sackville, N.B. It's a pretty basic stove, inexpensive as far as cookstoves go, but it heats the house, dries wet socks, warms water for hot water bottles just before bed, and it cooks. The manual that came with the stove explained all about installation, tempering and safety, but it didn't say much at all about cooking. So, as I said, coming to the farm is just like travel.

Today I put dinner rolls into the oven at 350F, then cranked my fire a little too much and a few minutes later found them baking at 425F. Oven temperatures seem to rise and fall very quickly. We have an oven thermometer, but it's not that easy to read, and by the time I fumble around looking for the temperature, the temperature is already falling. So I've been trying to learn by touch, by how it feels when I put my hand in the oven at different temperatures. When the oven is 350F, it is easy to have my hand in the oven. I can stick my bare hand in the middle of the oven and count to 10, and still my hand won't feel at all too hot. When I do the same thing at 450F, I can barely keep my hand in the oven that long. It's not too precise, but it's a start.

My friend Ethan taught me a few years ago to hold my hand directly over the coals in our backyard grill, like grill chefs do in restaurants, and it helped me a lot cooking on a grill. With the grill, I can't say what a precise temperature is, measured in degrees, but I usually know by feel the temperature I am looking for. So it seems it should be the same with the oven, over time.

One of our biggest breakthroughs with the Woodsman was discovering that traditional brass cookware from India works beautifully on the stove (as do round-bottom woks of spun steel). The tin-lined brass pots have rounded bottoms that fit perfectly down into the stove-top burners, the four holes on the top of the cookstove that expose the fire when you take out the heavy, round cast-iron lids. We have been bringing pots home from India for a long time because they are so good to cook with and inexpensive. Because of the rounded bottoms, they never work as well as they might on North American stove-tops. But on the Woodsman they are great, especially for dishes that require long, slow cooking, such as stews and curries, the kinds of food we most want to eat mid-winter at the farm.

So if you have a cookstove, but you're not planning an upcoming trip to India, try looking for large tinned-brass cooking pots in Indian groceries and retail stores. Then again, it's a good excuse for a trip to India.

Note from the author: We're just beginners at this cookstove cooking. If you have any pointers, please send them to our Web site at hotsoursaltysweet.com. Thanks.

SOUTH INDIAN LENTIL STEW -- SAMBHAR

This richly flavoured stew of lentils (dal) and vegetables is a very common South Indian dish. It can be thick or thin, tangy and hot or quite mild in taste, but it is almost always soured with tamarind. When we are making sambhar, we try to make a lot because it freezes very well, and there is nothing so luxurious as defrosting a container of sambhar and having it ready instantly with rice for dinner. If you're making it from scratch, total cooking time is about an hour.

NOTE ON INGREDIENTS: The spices and flavourings -- tamarind pulp, turmeric, dried red chiles, cumin, fenugreek, coriander, mustard seeds, dried curry leaves and asafetida -- are all available at Indian groceries and at many Southeast Asian stores. So is the dal, a bright orange quick-cooking dal that's also sold in health-food stores. These ingredients keep almost indefinitely, if stored in well-sealed containers in a cool cupboard, except for the tamarind pulp, which keeps well in the refrigerator once opened. They're all great pantry staples.

-1/2 cup masur (red) dal

-2 cups water

-3 garlic cloves, coarsely chopped

-1/2 tsp turmeric

-1 heaping tbsp tamarind pulp

-1 cup hot water

-1 1/2 cups water

-1 tsp salt

-1 medium potato, peeled and cut into chunks

-1 medium onion, sliced

-1 cup coarsely chopped eggplant or okra

Masala (Spice Blend):

-1 to 2 dried red chiles

-1 tsp cumin seed

-1/2 tsp fenugreek seeds

-1 1/2 tbsp coriander seeds

-1 tsp black peppercorns

For Tempering:

-2 tbsp peanut or vegetable oil

-1 tsp black mustard seeds

-5 to 6 dry or fresh curry leaves (when available)

-1/2 tsp asafetida powder

You will need a large (4 quart or more) heavy pot, a heavy skillet, a spice grinder or mortar and pestle, 2 bowls and a sieve.

In a large pot, combine dal, 2 cups water, garlic and turmeric. Bring to a boil and then cook over medium heat until dal is very tender, about 25 minutes.

While dal is cooking, in a heavy skillet over medium-high heat, dry roast all masala ingredients together, stirring frequently with a wooden spatula to prevent burning. After about 2 to 3 minutes, when it begins to brown noticeably, remove from the heat and grind to a powder in a spice grinder or mortar.

In a small bowl soak the tamarind in the hot water for 10 minutes, then use your fingers to dissolve the tamarind in the water. Strain the liquid through a sieve into another bowl and set aside. Discard the pulp.

When the dal has cooked, mash it with a fork or a potato masher, then add the tamarind water, another 1 1/2 cups water, salt and vegetables. Bring to a boil and then simmer, half-covered, until vegetables are tender, about 30 minutes.

Just before serving, heat about 2 tablespoons of oil in a heavy skillet. When hot, add the mustard seeds, and the curry leaves and asafetida if you have them. Stir briefly until mustard seeds pop, cover until popping stops, then stir into the sambhar.

Serves 4 to 6 when served with rice

Adapted from Seductions of Rice, by Jeffrey Alford and Naomi Duguid (Random House Canada, 1998)

by Jeffrey Alford      National Post     2 March 2002

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