photos this week

Broccoli rabe

Broccoli rabe is probably a new vegetable to just a handful of us but that stuff they're passing off as broccoli rabe in the grocery store is a pale, sad version of what turned up in our shares this week. Spicy, slightly bitter broccoli rabe is beloved across the Mediterranean and in China and is thought to be more closely related to an herbaceous wild turnip that found in Northern Italy than to broccoli. And the Italians have certainly taken a shine to it and leaned how to cook it up over the past thousand or so years. They really know what they're doing so I don't really stray too far from their formula: smashed garlic + broccoli rabe + red pepper flakes + olive oil + smoking hot pan + salt = deliciousness. I ask you, why bother? But I did feel proud this weekend when I took it all to a new level and stocked my freezer to boot. I threw a single sausage link in with the smashed garlic and broke it up against the sides of the pan and let that cook down until brown and crisp, then I threw in the broccoli rabe and let that all saute together for about ten minutes. When It was coolish I coarsely chopped everything up and folded it all into a batch of black pepper parmesan scones which are almost too simple to deserve a recipe but that never seems to stop me... three cups of self rising flour, cut in a whole stick of cold unsalted butter (just don't look while you're doing it and tell yourself that you're only going to eat one), one egg, a cup of butter milk, a teaspoon of freshly ground black pepper and a heaping cup of coarsely shredded parmesan. I quickly folded in my broccoli rabe mixture, no over mixing here, and dropped big spoonfuls of the dough on a buttered baking pan and let them bake at 375 for thirty minutes. We did eat a couple piping hot from the over but it was really satisfying to wrap them up and pack them away in the freezer. They are like a little insurance policy against some cold, deep December evening when all I can scare up for supper are bowls of tomato soup. Made from tomatoes I hope to be canning in a few weeks. Is it worth it to go to the trouble of prepping and sauteing a bunch of greens just to bake them into scones for the freezer? I believe so. And I think on that on the cold night that those scones make it to my supper table a little bunch of greens will have become a part of something sacred.

Leafy little lettuces

I adore leaf lettuce. Salad mix. Spring mix. Whatever you want to call it. After a grey winter what I crave is a huge plateful of those delicate little leaves. They are such a tonic to the body and the spirit. I hope our gardeners can feel it in their souls when a collective CSA member sigh of pleasure goes up and out into the universe upon opening up our beautiful stash of veggies each week. There, right on top are those bulging bags of salad greens peppered with golden yellow calendula blossoms. Ahhhh... My favorite salad at the moment is a basically a big plate of greens sprinkled with calendula petals, crisp wheels of cool cucumber, toasted walnuts, finely sliced spring onion, a handful of mulberries all drizzled over with THE springtime dressing. Let's dedicate this recipe to the loving, dirty hands that bring us this gorgeous food each week and call it Garden Goodness dressing. Into your food processor or blender put one large ripe avocado, four tablespoons of yogurt or buttermilk, a couple gratings of parmesan cheese, salt and pepper to taste, a couple sprigs of dill and parsley and buzz away. Happy Salad Days.

Arugula days

Arugula is one of my favorite example vegetables when making a case for local eating. Buy it in a store in say, August and what do you get? Beautifully packaged, perfectly crisp, entirely flavorless greens. Arugula is a coy little garden offering with those delicate little green leaves and a surprising, strongly peppery bite. The flavor is sparkling and zesty but there is also an earthy, mushroom-y note in the background. Not exactly the pallid little grocery store green we can buy packaged up in all that nice plastic after all? No. Arugula has a bit of a temper and prefers the cooler days of Fall and Spring to Summer. We should enjoy it when it is most abundant. And since arugula is not slouch in the flavor department I like to prepare it simply and serve it up with other full bodied ingredients. Say....parmesan, pine nuts and garlic. Arugula does make great pesto. But we can do better than that. If you haven't found a reason to to try baking pizzas outdoors over the coals in your grill allow the promise of a blistery, lightly charred crust and melted goat cheese all topped with a tangle of arugula be the ultimate excuse. Start of with your favorite pizza dough (if anyone is interested just email me, I have a fantastic dough recipe that always yields a crisp, chewy crust). My best advice on pizza dough is rest, rest, rest. After you have divided and shaped your dough into smaller portions, hands off for about fifteen to twenty minutes. If you just dive in with floured hands and immediately start pulling, rolling, stretching... you will end up frustrated at the difficulty of the task and have a tough little pizza on your hands. Just wait and you will find the dough relaxed and ready to practically shape itself. Once shaped and ready for toppings give that perfectly stretched or beautifully lopsided crust a generous turn in a dusting of coarse corn meal to keep to dough from sticking to the live coals. Top the pizza however you like but air on the side of full flavors and fewer ingredients and you won't be disappointed. With arugula, I especially like a handful of walnuts crushed with a clove of garlic, some sliced spring onions a drizzle of olive oil and some chevre. Transfer the pizza carefully from a plate or cutting board directly on top of the screamingly hot, burned down coals and cover the grill with the vents open. A step away for about four minutes. Just long enough to make this salad: Arugula, sprinkle of salt, grind of pepper, splash of balsamic, good slug of olive oil. Toss, toss, toss. Now go get your pizza, a long handled pair of tongs is very useful here. And top it with that gorgeous, simple arugula. And open up that bottle of prosecco languishing in the back of the fridge, arugula has come for dinner.

Turnips... don't turn up your nose

The humble turnip has gained some ground in the past few years thanks to the movement for local, seasonal eating. And thank heavens because people have been missing out on this flavorful little root crop with delicious greens (make a mental note, turnip greens sauteed with garlic and a squeeze of lemon were made to be on pizza. I'm just saying). Turnips love being slowly simmered in a low oven alongside a pot roast. Just think of a bed of turnips, carrots, onions and mushrooms bathed in those meaty, winey, garlicky juices. Getting hungry? How about peeling and boiling some turnips with a batch of potatoes and then mashing in some butter, cream, salt and pepper, a couple of egg yolks and some shaved parmesan. Typically, when I think about how to include turnips in a meal I lean on rich, creamy, buttery ingredients but with their rich, earthy flavor turnips can also hold their own against dark, roasted spices. My Moroccan spice roasted vegetables became pretty popular at Innisfree during my tenure. You can make them as mild or vibrant as you like depending on how much red pepper you use. Peel and cut your turnips and any other root vegetable you like into very large chunks. I have used carrots, golden potatoes, sweet potatoes, parsnips, beets... anything you have is fine. Make a spice blend of two tbs. of cocoa powder (the darker the better), two tbs. cumin seeds, two table spoons of coriander seed, one tbs. cinnamon, one tbs. crushed red pepper flakes, a shake of cayenne pepper to taste. Toast the spices in a hot, dry skillet until the just begin to smoke and become fragrant. Pre-heat the oven to about 480 and arrange the vegetables in a single layer on a sheet pan. Drizzle with oil and toss with the toasted spices and a good shake of salt and pepper and a small handful of brown sugar. Bake for about thirty-five to forty minutes until the vegetables are deeply caramelized and just tender. This stuff is just killer. I can't count the times I've been asked for the recipe or to make up a batch for a holiday potluck. You will not be disappointed and I think the turnip is looking a little less humble.

Radishes

Aren't radishes what Benjamin bunny risked life and limb and blue jacket for in Mr. McGregor's garden? Poor thing. He might have been planning a picnic with a batch of shaved radish and cucumber sandwiches with compound butter. Radishes are great on a salad of course. On the street in Mexico vendores keep them in a bath of vinegar and ice to scatter over savory tacos. But the French and the English are the real radish experts. For the french radishes are like garden fresh penicillin. "C'est tres bon pour le foie", a little old french innkeeper kept telling me as she passed me slice after slice of dark buttered bread piled with spicy radish shavings. She was lovely and kind and her wrinkled little forehead was etched with worry for my liver and those of my twenty-ish traveling companions. She was probably right to worry, we had been a little over exuberant in our pursuit of knowledge about French wines. She was also right about the meal of bread and radishes. It was light, cool and clean on the palette. Just what the doctor ordered. I still make this when I get my hands on a bunch of pretty little pastel radishes but these days I'm more likely to enjoy it with a glass of white wine or a icy cold beer than use it as a hangover remedy. First I make a compound butter. Take a stick of room temperature butter and blend it with about a tablespoon each of washed, dried, minced radish tops and finely sliced green onion. Blend together with a bit of salt and set aside. Slice a fresh baguette lengthwise and toast in a hot oven while slicing a bunch of radishes and a cucumber. Not too thin, this isn't a little tea sandwich. This one is crunchy, chewy, pungent and peppery. When the baguette is toasted and cooled slightly, spread on the compound butter (any leftovers would be fantastic on a piece of fish with just a squeeze of lemon), and pile on the veg. Sliced into generous portions this is a delicious stand alone lunch. Sliced in smaller pieces it is a perfect warm weather cocktail nibble.

Swiss chard never let any body down

I ask you, what did I eat before swiss chard? I can't make anything bad with it, what's not to love? It is great as a filling for calzones or ravioli. Perfect in quiches and completely disappears into my three year old when I toss it with hot cooked pasta and butter. But the preparation I keep coming back to is a simple saute of caramelized onion and garlic. I feel strongly that exact quantities are unimportant here. Use amounts that you enjoy. Deglaze the pan with about a third of a bottle of white wine and allow that to cook off at a high simmer for about five minutes then throw in a big handful or two of dried cherries or cranberries or raisins and let them soften in the cooking liquid. Add about a tablespoon of butter to the pan and then pile in loads of roughly torn swiss chard and just allow it to wilt and absorb some of those flavors. Turn off the heat and toss in about a cupful of toasted pecans or walnuts and the juice and zest of one large lemon. Now, you could eat that alone standing over the stove, I know, but you could also roll it into some pounded chicken breasts and bake them or mix it into a pound of ground pork for a super fancy meatloaf or do what I do, invariably. Toss the swiss chard, cherry, onion, pecan mixture with a pound of piping hot orzo, throw in some more butter, more lemon juice, a handful of chopped parsley, coarsely ground black pepper, a shake of crushed red pepper flakes and a generous grating of parmesan. That can be dinner night after night without complaints.

Beets... garden gems

When my husband and I got married he insisted upon a roasted butternut squash risotto. I said I could not get married without a roasted beet salad on a bed of baby greens. That is just the kind of woman I am, recklessly eating hot pink beet salad in my wedding dress. My priorities are pretty obvious. Luckily my sweet husband loves me for it and he doesn't let anything come between him and a good meal either. We're a good fit. So after four years of wedded bliss we're still eating and loving roasted beets on salad. And my husband is what I call a "happy eater" which was great when I wanted him to try grilled beets and red cabbage with walnuts, feta and sweet and sour dressing. It only sounds complicated and I actually made this inside on miserably, cold drizzly night on a stove top grill pan. Slice the washed beets about a quarter inch thick, toss with a tiny little dribble of olive oil and set aside. Slice a head of red cabbage through the middle and oil the cut sides. Get the grill pan nice and hot and lay on the veggies. Should it arise, resist the urge to poke and prod them so that they can char and caramelize properly. Toast some walnuts in a dry skillet until fragrant, crumble a bit of feta and make up the dressing. Three tbs. walnut oil, two tbs. cider vinegar, big squeeze of honey, squeeze of Dijon mustard. Whisk. When the cabbage is nicely charred chop it roughly and toss with a bit of dressing. Lay over the beet slices, toasty nuts and cheese and finish with a bit more dressing. Delicious. It had been raining for days but after we ate this for supper the rain stopped. It was the salad. I'm sure of it. You'll see.

Romaine Lettuce and the perfect Caesar Salad

I don't think I need to sell anybody very hard on the deliciousness and insane simplicity of a really good Caesar salad. So... I'll skip all that and get straight to why you should be making your own at home. 1. You have an abundance of perfectly crisp, delicious romaine on hand. 2. After reading the title of this post you're really dying for a Caesar salad. 3. It takes virtually no time to make, unless you want to get all fancy like and make your own fresh croutons, which I highly recommend and that can be accomplished in mere moments. 4.It will be perfect with what ever you were planning on grilling for supper. 5. No good cook should pass up the opportunity to make their own Caesar. Here goes: Wash any grit from the lettuce, tear it to your preferred size (I like to leave the leaves whole) and then roll up the leaves gently between two dish towels. Refrigerate until ready to serve. With the back of a fork mash two cloves of garlic with pinch of salt and three whole anchovy filets. You like anchovies. I promise. Scrape all of that into a bowl and whisk in two tbs. of mayonnaise, one perfectly fresh, raw egg yolk, the juice of one lemon, a good grating of parmesan, one tbs. of milk and salt and pepper if desired. Done. Chill that until serving and whip up a batch of fresh croutons. Cut a loaf of crusty bread on the bias making long angled strips. Toss those with a bit of good olive oil and some minced garlic and arrange them on a baking sheet in a single layer and then run them under the broiler on high for about a minute or two.It wouldn't hurt to watch them pretty closely to prevent burning. Now... just dress those chill leaves of romaine with a few huge croutons, a nice drizzle of that dressing and some shards of pungent parmesan cheese. That is a serious salad. If you want you can scare up someone to split it with but, for me, eating a whole head of lettuce like that couldn't be easier.

Bok Choy

I love bok choy raw in spicy, lime drenched, gingery salads. Toss in some toasted sesame seeds, scallions and shredded carrots and everything is right with the world. But I might love it even more in warm dishes because when cooked it becomes so silky and buttery in texture while still having a bright, vegetal flavor. We can all live happily without any lame, bland cooking greens. And we will now that we have bok choy. You can also sneak over to this week's meet your veggies page on scallions for the quick fried rice recipe that typically uses up my share of bok choy on a busy night. That's what I'll call it from now on Busy Weeknight Bok Choy Fried Rice. Enjoy.

Tat Soi

If there was a beauty pageant in the garden I think Tat Soi might be the quirky, dark horse, come from behind winner. A runner up definitely. It is just so darn pretty with those beautiful darkly emerald wrinkly leaves grown so perfectly into a perky little rosette. You just want to pinch Tat Soi's cheeks. Or eat it. Let's do that. And let's used Innisfree Kitchen Cook Sharon's recipe for a wilted Asian greens salad. Quickly blanch the leaves in boiling water and then cool it down by plunging it into an ice bath to stop the cooking process. Gently press out any excess water with a dish towel and toss that with a bit of minced ginger, a clove of minced garlic, a teeny bit of sugar and healthy splashes of tamari, rice wine vinegar and a generous squeeze of Sirracha. Chill and done. Tell everyone you know about Tat Soi and thank you to Sharon for the wonderful recipe. She made this for lunch one day while we were cooking together and I seriously went home three hours later and made it again. I had to be reminded to share.

Dill... the hardest working herb in cooking

Nice to see yo again Dill. Lovely, feathery, frondy, flavorful dill... I've missed you. I've used you dried all winter long and it just wasn't the same. But, when a lady really needs some dill she'll take what she can get. Ahhhh... does dill really make every thing better? Is it just me? It is one of those things for which there is no passable substitution so I look forward to the long, abundantly dilly weeks of summer all year. It is really a beautiful and useful plant in the garden, bees and butterflies love the pungent, pollen heavy flowers when it blooms. The flowering heads are really pretty in floral arrangements. And while dill refuses to be disturbed or transplanted, it reseeds vigorously and it those seeds are super tasty. I can't share my super favorite use for dill just yet... but perhaps later on a recipe page.... as the cucumbers and green beans tumble in. I do believe that my failure-proof lacto-fermented dill pickles are in our future. You WANT that recipe. But for now a quick to prepare rub for veggies, tofu, potatoes, meat, fish, anything you want to grill. When  fresh dill is exposed to high heat it chars beautifully and caramelizes opening up a big mouthful of complex flavor. What I like to do is choppity chop chop a bunch of dill on the coarse side, smash a clove or ten of garlic, and toss that with the juice and zest of one lemon (because you know dill and citrus are best friends), a pinch of salt, a pinch of sugar, a good squeeze of dijon mustard, a shake of crushed red pepper flakes and a teeny little bit of olive oil, just a bit to help things stay juicy as they soak up all these good flavors. Rub or toss that on seriously just about anything that isn't nailed down. Wait a while, overnight if you can possibly stand it. And then you are in grilling nirvana. As an extra, super bonus this rub mixture can also be blended into ground beef or chicken in place of other traditional meatball ingredients or brushed over a sliced open baguette that is then grilled or broiled for bruschetta. I just dare you to try and not top that with some gorgeously, drippingly, juicy tomatoes in July.  Happy Dill Days to everyone eating at your table.

Scallions

If you ask me scallions' purpose in life is to be a baked potato's best, best friend. I insist upon scallions on nights when we have salad and a baked potato for supper. But they also lend such beautiful pungency to any simple meal with Asian flavors. One of my favorite weeknight leftover revival meals is quick fried brown rice with bok choy and scallions (which I do believe many of us have on hand at the moment). Here is goes: Left over, cold brown rice (You just cannot cannot cannot make fried rice with freshly cooked rice it will be slimy, gummy, starchy and just plain gross. The beauty of fried rice is that everything goes into one big wok-y type pot and comes out deliciously, steamy and fragrant in mere moments.), a bit of minced garlic and ginger, as much bok choy as you care to see on your plate torn into biggish pieces, a big bunch of scallions sliced on the diagonal, a tablespoon of brown sugar, sesame seeds, tamari, salt and oil with a high smoke point. Get everything prepped before starting and this goes fast. Heat the oil in the wok-y type pan until it is screaming hot and throw in the ginger garlic and scallions. Stir, stir, stir.  Let that go for about ten seconds. Stir, stir, stir. Throw in the sesame seeds give them about five seconds to toast. Stir, stir, stir. Add in the greens and allow to just wilt and become vibrantly green. Stir, stir, stir. Rice. Stir, stir, stir. Season to taste with salt and tamari. Stir, stir, stir. Serve, serve, serve.

Kohlrabi

I do love a challenging new ingredient, a novelty or an oddity every now and then but I know what everyone eats day in and day out are veggies that are flavorful and easy on the palette. I have found kohlrabi to be both. The texture is crisp and snappy and the flavor is slightly broccoli-ish. Turns out this little  green or purple garden weirdo is mild and very versatile. It likes to stand in for grated cabbage or broccoli in fresh slaw and is lovely shaved over a salad of tender greens and say, celery. I hear tell that some folks go to the trouble of peeling and cooking kohlrabi much as you might treat a potato or some other starchy root vegetable. But one day when I was out of crackers but had kohlrabi on hand I simply sliced it thinly into rounds an spread it with a fresh, soft goat cheese. It was springy and light and crunchy and refreshing, exactly what food should be as we wander into warmer summer weather

Cliantro...hello lover

Salsa, oh yes. Guacamole, oh yes, yes. Thai curry, oh, yes. Raita, salsa cruda, fajitas.... Cilantro is freshness and vibrancy and a little springtime fiesta in my mouth. Is there poetry about cilantro? If there isn't, there should be. I'll work on that. But in the meantime let's have a cocktail to celebrate this springy, zesty little herb. How about and good old margarita, with a glass rimmed in coarse salt, sugar and finely minced cilantro. Ole! Not a tequila drinker?  How about a Bloody Maria? Muddle some fresh sliced jalapeno, a bit of garlic, and some minced cilantro in the bottom of a pitcher and pour over a good glug, glug, glug of vodka. Fill with tomato juice and stir. Serve in tall glasses over cracked ice a nice squeeze of lime juice and another sprinkle of cilantro. Say hello to your new summertime brunch cocktail.

Sugar Snaps and Shell Peas

I never need to worry about what I'm going to do with my peas. My three year old is happy to relieve me of the task and even though the outer pod of a shell pea isn't meant to be eaten he is undaunted. However, I do know that the pods of shell peas are perfect for stashing in a bag of veggie scraps in your freezer until you collect enough odds and ends to put on a batch of stock. A vegetable stock made with peas would be wonderful base for a pea or celery soup on a deep, cold winter evening. Just toss all the veggie scraps and pods with a bit of olive oil and roast in a hot oven until they get a good bit of color and caramelization. Then cover them with water in a stock pot and simmer very gently for about three or four hours, then strain and refrigerate for use within a week or freeze.

Spinach

I hardly think anyone needs help thinking of a way to use spinach, but I won't let that stop me. It is so sweet and mild and versatile and completely packed with nutrition. Spinach is always in our fridge and a favorite salad green of mine. I also use it as a replacement for basil in pesto since I must hang my head in shame and admit that I do not like basil.  My husband loves it. My three year old son calls basil "eating leaves" but we can all agree on spinach. And we start the morning with it nearly every day in summer in a  gloriously green smoothie. Get out your blenders, it goes like this: Ice lots of it. Three bulging handfuls of spinach. A banana or two. Two heaping tablespoons of peanut butter, almond butter, soy nut butter, whatever blows your dress up really. Some kind of milk, almond is our favorite. Flip the switch, pour, chug, ahhhhhh. You just might be back for another at lunchtime. I cannot imagine any child turning this down. Should a little one be a bit averse to drinking something green you could tell them that it is super healthy power slime (which my boy loved) or just give it to them in an opaque cup until they're hooked.

Kales and cooking greens

I will do my best to hold back here but I can't promise much restraint as my love affair with bitter cooking greens goes way back to my Texas childhood. In my birth state a love of greens like collards, mustards and turnips is deep and religious in its fervor. They were on the table more than one night a week, tender, flavorful and lovingly prepared. Usually with a lot of fat, porcine in origin. Texans are not fearful of the ham hock. Luckily and later in life I found my way to cooler climes in the foothills of Virginia where delicious greens like Winterbor and Curly Kale flourish. I wasn't familiar with them but I thought I couldn't go wrong with a cooking method I'd learned from the adorable mother of an old boyfriend. She was also from Texas and knew good greens without them having to slap her in the face. However, she was also a practitioner of holistic medicine and a yogi who had long ago sworn off animal products and unhealthy fats. She showed my the way and I have not looked back. This is my favorite method for cooking hearty greens of any kind. Wish I could take credit for it.  Wash and chop everything into a very large bite size and fill a large cooking vessel with just enough water to cover the greens about two thirds of the way. Salt and pepper the cooking water  generously, you want the cooking liquid to be flavorful as the salt helps to leach and mellow any bitterness. Add is a good shake of crushed red pepper, a glug of olive oil and five or six garlic cloves peeled and smashed with the side of a knife. Cook on a high simmer for about ten minutes and then turn the fire down to medium low and continue cooking for another ten to fifteen minutes until the greens are tender but not mushy. Pour in a good slug of cider vinegar and serve. Preferably with cornbread and a mess of blackeyed peas. But if you happen to hail from Texas then you were going to do that anyways.

Garlic Scapes

Ahhh... garlic scapes. These snakey green tendrils are a true seasonal delicacy and very flavorful. You can use them exactly as you would garlic in sauces or sautes while you wait patiently for your first taste of green garlic. I love to make a vinaigrette with finely minced garlic scapes using just a bit of oil (I like the richness of walnut oil) and white wine vinegar, a big dab of dijon mustard, salt, cracked pepper and sugar to taste. Whisk everything together and pour over warm boiled potatoes and serve over a bed of fresh greens. The potatoes just drink up the vinaigrette and I cannot think of a more elegant treatment of potato salad. As a bonus any leftover vinaigrette is a lovely marinade for fish, tofu or chicken.

Flats of new parsley

What can't you do with parsley? For me this humble little herb is so much more than a garnish. It is a Vegetable with a capital V. And while these little babies in the greenhouse are lovely there is nothing I like better than to harvest from a tall, verdant stand of flat leaf parsley by mid summer. Parsley is believed to be a cleansing herb, purifying to the blood and liver. I'll believe it. A bite of something loaded with the cool, mildly bitter leaves can cure me of almost anything. It finds a way onto our dinner plates nearly every night. One of my favorite simple suppers from pregnancy is still a plate of hot orzo tossed with a big handful of chopped parsley and a few cups of raw spinach. The heat from the pasta just barely cooked the greens and I tossed in a bit of butter and shaved parmesan. Not really a recipe but it was so fresh and satisfying I'm sure the non-pregnant can appreciate it as well.

Photos this week

photos this week