Happy Monday! Wild Fermentation giveaway, and internet vacation announcement...

I am normally not so excited about Mondays, but people--it's almost July! July means peaches and apricots and plums, summer squash and cucumbers, and more blueberries. July also means that I'm going on vacation from the internet for two weeks, in order to take some much-needed R&R with my family.  Visiting with friends in Virginia and elsewhere, spending the 4th of July with loved ones, and generally exploring our little world.

With no computer.

I need this time away from the glowing screen of my old desktop. Time in the sun. Maybe at the ocean. Or in the mountains. Or... It doesn't matter. I'm going to sit with my feet up, nursing a glass of sangria and chatting with friends I haven't seen in a while.  Just no excess noise from the internet.

I've got a post or two scheduled for the time I'm away from my keyboard--quick reviews of a few of my recent cookbook acquisitions.  Hopefully reviews of these food-preservation books will be useful to you, especially as fruit is starting to ripen on the trees.  I hope to cover a few new favorites if I can write them before my personal cut-off time at 12 midnight. (I think the fact that I have to give myself a deadline to get off the computer is probably telling.)

I will probably not respond to comments or emails until the 15th or so, which brings me to my other item of business--a giveaway for July!   I would love to give to one of you a copy of Wild Fermentation, which is my new favorite book for food projects. (Even above my canning books! Imagine that.) I got suckered into buying a copy after trying some fermented garlic scape pickles at the farm a couple of weeks ago.  Also, I figured my husband would like the beverage-fermentation chapter(s).  I will have a review of the book up in the next several days (provided I write it before midnight tonight), but I promise you that this is the most fun "cookbook" I've read through in a while.  We've started kombucha, made "spontaneous cider" (part of which we bottled, and part of which is being left to become cider vinegar)... and I'm going to give sauerkraut another go. Maybe some pickles.  Oh, and I made a gluten-free sourdough starter that worked beautifully.

To enter the giveaway, you can do one or more of the following... Please leave a separate comment for each entry:

• Tell me in a comment why you want your own copy of Wild Fermentation.


• "Like" On Cardamom and Cast Iron on Facebook!


• Follow me on Twitter ( @ cdotoz ).


• Subscribe via email or RSS feed. (Please tell me where/how you subscribe.)


• Share this giveaway on Facebook and/or Twitter (mentioning this page/me), and comment here telling me you did.

I will draw a winner on the 15th of July!  Until then, happy eating, cooking, gardening, and vacationing.  Look for those review posts between now and then.

Product review: Equal Exchange coffee

Happy weekend everyone!  It's been a long time coming, no? Today I have the joy (<-- not sarcasm) of giving you a product review as part of your weekend reading. I've been a fan the Equal Exchange brand for quite some time, so when I was contacted a few weeks ago to do a review of their coffee I almost jumped up and down doing a happy dance. I haven't had the coffee in a while, since I've gotten into sort of a rut with my beans purchase, so I was looking forward to breaking open the bags when they arrived at my doorstep.  Since this is, technically, a product review and not a company review I'll start with the coffee. But, as you all well know, it's important to consider where your food comes from--and I'll get to that later.

I received two varieties of coffee in my parcel: one bag each of ground organic French Roast and organic Love Buzz.  I'd tried the French Roast long ago--in fact, it'd been my staple coffee a couple of years ago--so I knew I could count on at least that blend.  The French Roast has a lovely smoky aroma as you might expect with something roasted that dark. The smoke, though, is not overpowering--unlike a famous international coffee chain's French Roast--and really complements the flavor, which reminds me almost of crème brulée.  The overall experience is smooth, and really quite lovely.

The Love Buzz has a bit more...  je ne sais quoi. Though I enjoyed the French Roast, I was intrigued by the complexity of the this one. There's a lot going on in this coffee, but somehow it works really well.  I wouldn't pick it for making espresso, but a French press of Love Buzz would make for a very good morning. My initial impressions as I brewed a pot of this coffee were of dark chocolate and toffee; then I got a hint of tobacco. (I would like to say that I'm not incredibly familiar with the nuance of tobacco aroma, but this definitely reminded me a little of the smell of an unlit cigar. Not a heavy smell, but a hint there in the back.) The flavor was a beautiful balance of  berries and cream, as well as dark chocolate. Basically, take everything from a romantic after-dinner treat, put it into coffee, and you have Love Buzz.   I will be purchasing this one when I run out of my current stash of beans.

One of the reasons I like Equal Exchange is not that I enjoy the products--though I do--it's that the Equal Exchange coop is committed to sustainable agriculture, supporting small farms and fair wages.  I am finding more and more that I am uncomfortable sourcing coffee and chocolate from conventional suppliers, both because of environmental sustainability and working conditions. Equal Exchange is trying to change how the industry works by supporting farmers who do the right thing. I think we can all get behind that. If you'd like more information, please visit the Equal Exchange website and check out their wealth of information, as I hardly have enough room to adequately cover it here.

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A disclaimer:  I did receive free products for the review, and I was asked to review those products on my blog. That being said, I give, and always will give, completely candid reviews. If I love something, I will tell you. If it's just "meh"... I'll tell you that too.

Friday links 6/24

Oh dear, another week gone by. I'm getting out of my funk, though, so at least maybe I'll want to cook.  You know, I never thought I'd say this, but I'm kind of tired of dark leafy green season.  (We've been eating almost exclusively dark leafy stuff, meat, eggs, beans, and nuts for the past month. A few beets and cherries thrown in, but mostly life here has been a little boring.)  Last night I just couldn't bear it anymore and blanched, chopped, and froze about three pounds' worth of chard and kale. I just can't take it anymore.  Coming from someone who normally loves greens, this is what eating local will do to you. Come mid-June, even the thought of bushels and bushels of zucchini sounds good. It's a good thing particular veggies are only in season for a month or two at a time.

It's been a while since I posted a bunch of links, so how about today? After all,  I had a major fail in the kitchen last night. Do not, under any circumstances, use exclusively kale stems (i.e., what I had after a month of eating greens) into homemade stock. Even an onion won't help. My stock tasted like overcooked cabbage (not surprising) and completely ruined my rice and beans that would have otherwise rocked. We ended up ordering Thai food... It was that bad. So I don't have food for you today. Just some yummy looking food other people have made. That works for you, right?

First up, Ricki at Diet, Dessert, and Dogs has a delicious-looking (and healthy!) recipe for  raw chocolate almond butter.   Over at the Post Punk Kitchen blog, Isa has [yet another] drool-worthy post, this time for grilled peaches with ginger caramel.   Joy the Baker made a peach-raspberry crumble, combining two of my favorite summer fruits into one awesome dessert. If you're looking for something savory, how about these curry-spiced pommes frites over at the Sprouted Kitchen?

Lest you think that I've had fail after fail this week, I did have a pretty major (for me) breakthrough a couple of days ago: I made bread. Well, not just any bread--I made a gluten-free sourdough starter and subsequently a loaf of 100% whole grain, gluten-free bread out of just millet, teff, brown rice, water, salt, and flax. And it was good. I had to use all of the starter because of time constraints these next couple of weeks, but I got a lovely soured flavor, and a nicer crumb than I've ever gotten from bread using commercial yeast.   I need to experiment more this summer before I post a recipe, but needless to say I'm really excited about this development in my bread-making.  I'm going to play around with different grains in starters, too, so that not everything will be quite as distinct as with using teff.

Have a lovely Friday, everyone!

 

 

Roasted bay-scented baby beets

Do you ever have those weeks where everything... well, where your life is dictated by a certain guy named Murphy? That's how it's been here. Health issues, broken appliances, argumentative children... Yeah. One of those weeks. Also, it turns out that a whole bunch of expenses pop up right when you've paid off debt. The kind that have waited for a year and a half and should be taken care of before they become a major financial drain.  Oh, life as an adult.  If someone would have told me this would happen fifteen years ago I may have enjoyed high school and college more. Oh wait. I'm pretty sure someone did. (Sorry Mom--I should've listened.)



So that's been my life these past two weeks.  I'm over it.  Things are looking up even as I type this, with paint-stained hands and a kombucha halfway drunk. I've got some exciting things coming up--well, exciting to me. We'll be visiting family and friends up in New England this summer, then having family visit us from Seattle. I miss them terribly, though at least time is flying by with how busy our lives have become here in Virginia. We're more than halfway through our stint here, and I'm finally getting used to living near the District. We've found our niche. Finally. One of the tough things about living in a military family is moving every two to three years.  If you get stationed somewhere you love, you'll be leaving. If you move somewhere you hate, you'll probably start to like it about six or seven months before you have to move again. You'll have just made friends and figured out where you belong  in the grand scheme of things. And then you'll move again. Or the friends your kids have made will have to move halfway through your time at a certain duty station. (One of my daughter's playmates is leaving this weekend; her mom is also a friend of mine. Another friend moved a few weeks ago. They will be missed. ) Granted, I'm a little more optimistic about our next move, considering it will be to coastal California. But losing the friends will be difficult.

So I try to live in the present. We face so much uncertainty in life--especially when you're a bit transient, as military families are.  I feel grounded working in my garden or chopping vegetables. The feel of dirt under my fingernails is centering. My daughter's questions about when the cilantro will be ready for harvest. Hearing the sizzle of onions in a skillet. The past and future don't matter--just what I'm doing now.  I've found out a lot about living seasonally, even in the past few weeks of doing local, seasonal foods. There's a lot to be learned from the local growing season. I don't have as much convenience. I have to be focused on the now, not blackberry season in August, not pears in October. Strawberries and asparagus are gone; greens are at their peak. We're near summer squash season, though I'm sure I'll be less excited about them once it's over. It's all about the life cycle of plants, even if I'm not out there digging in the earth. (I'm still a city girl at heart, and about all I can manage right now is my herb garden.)



This week in our box from Great Country Farm we received baby beets--not enough to pickle, but enough to enjoy with lunch. We love them here. They're sweet enough to feel like a treat, but are still root veggies (and thus relatively healthy). I love the color variations--golden and chiogga being my favorites.  This is a very simple preparation, something that has become the norm around here with the fabulously fresh produce we've been getting. I've sliced the beets almost in half, added broken up bay leaves, and roasted them wrapped in foil for about half an hour to forty minutes, depending on the size, until soft. (Peel them if they're larger than the size of a golf ball.)  No recipe needed, and minimal equipment--just a paring knife, foil, and a baking sheet.   Enough prep to take your mind away from the rat race, but simple enough to keep you grounded at home.

Thoughts on jam, and June giveaway winner

Call me a conflicted jam-maker; it's probably the only real way to describe how I deal with preserving fruit. Don't get me wrong--I love jam. Good fruit preserves are divine on toast or almond flour muffins, as a glaze on meats (or vegetarian "proteins"--gah, I hate that description of food--like pressed tofu or tempeh on the grill), or on desserts. There's only one problem with fruit preserves--the sugar. Take a look at the jams available at the supermarket--even a 'natural' market like Whole Foods. There is so much added sweetener added to fruit preserves I feel my blood sugar spiking just thinking about it.  And really, sugar is sugar, whether it's white sugar or dehydrated cane juice, agave, honey, or fruit juice concentrate. Sure, I think a couple of those choices are better than others (raw honey over white sugar, for instance), but it's still added sugar.



Turns out, based on my extensive reading over the weekend in those (gulp) five preserving books I bought for the canning season, sugar is not used to preserve the fruit in jams or even canned peaches. It's there for structure and to keep fruit looking pretty. Or something. My mom used to can peaches with a relatively heavy syrup, and while the peaches turned out beautifully in February just as plump and peachy-looking as when they were picked, we probably consumed a fair amount of sugar even after rinsing the fruit.   To safely can anything without a pressure canner you need two things: pH under 4.6 and enough time in a water bath to get the middle of the jar hot enough to prevent toxin growth.  One of the books I purchased has a handy chart of average pH values for different fruits and vegetables. Tomatoes' acidity is right on the edge of pH safety--between 4 and 5, which is why you need to add some acid to ensure the proper pH.  Most fruits are safely acidic with pH values between 3 and 4.  Add a little lemon juice to the mix (around a 2) and you're golden. In fact, you only need 2 Tbsp [bottled] lemon juice for a whole quart of tomatoes to make it safe with the proper processing time. (I'll leave you to canning books for that instruction. Please do not take my word as an expert. I'm just typing up some of the things I have learned by reading this weekend.)



So jam. There's a reason there is low- to no-sugar-needed pectin out there: You don't need sugar to make jams, though it certainly will help keep the jam good for longer once opened and can help the structure.  If you use high-pectin fruits in your jams and boil the fruit a little longer you'll probably end up with a good product even if you don't use a lot of sugar. Or any, I suppose.  I have seen multiple recipes sweetened only with Splenda {shudder}. This past weekend I bought a flat of first-of-the-season raspberries and set out to make some jam sweetened not with cane sugar but local honey.  I added a little lemon juice both to brighten the flavor and for pH insurance (though raspberries are quite acidic on their own). All in all I think I used 2/3 cup honey or so and ended up with a relatively tart jam with bright flavor, gorgeous red color, and a hint of spice from a couple grinds of grains of paradise (which I am starting to love using). To keep the structure I used no-sugar-necessary pectin and boiled the fruit for a little longer. The end result is sweet enough to use at breakfast, but tart enough to use as a glaze for savory dishes--and not at all the cloying sweet stuff you find at the grocery store.  (I also got perfect results on the cold plate test before canning.) I call it a success.

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The winner of the June giveaway for a copy of Herbs & Spices is, according to my reliable friend random.org... Christine (commenter #3).  Congrats Christine--I'll be emailing you this afternoon.

What to do with an abundance of mint: Make tea!

I never would have discovered catnip tea were it not for my beasties and their love of Nepeta cataria. (Yes, I looked up the botanical name.)  Many of you with pets are already acutely aware of its effect on cats, though maybe your exposure has been limited to the dried variety you buy at the pet store.  I'm here today to urge you to grow your own and use it both for your cats' enjoyment and your own. Unfortunately the, errr, intoxicating effect is only for the kitties.



One of catnip's benefits is that it's part of the mint family. What does that mean, exactly? Well, at my home we drink mint tea when we don't feel well. It helps our digestive systems get back on track, soothes sore throats, and is generally nice as an alternative to green or black tea.  All mints are incredibly easy to cultivate, too, but be sure once you get a start to keep it well-contained. Like in a large pot. Seriously. Mint is one of the more invasive herbs as its roots grow outward, and [all mint] will live forever if you take care of it. Keep mint in a partial-shade environment with moist soil and you'll have one supremely happy plant. Catnip, peppermint, spearmint, even chocolate mint. Easy to grow, easy to enjoy.

Okay, so onto the catnip tea. I accidentally let our plant grow a little too long in between harvests, so I cut a bunch of it today in order to make an infusion.  I almost feel bad posting about something this easy and un-recipe-like, but I think it's worth mentioning.  All you have to do is put a handful of well-rinsed mint (leaves and flowers, if you have the latter) into a large, clean jar. Fill the jar with filtered water; screw on the lid; then put in a warm, sunny place (like a balcony or deck) and let it sit for a few hours or all afternoon.  Strain the tea into a clean jar if you want, then put everything into the fridge.

Oh, and also: You will probably never need pesticides for mint grown in a container on your deck. I've never had problems growing mint without -cides. (Besides, you wouldn't want poison in your tea, right? Right.)

Homemade liqueurs, or, how to preserve fruit without canning

I wrote last week about the advent of cherry season to our county's farmers markets, but not really what to do with them. Of course, in our home fresh fruit rarely lasts more than a day or two--no matter how much we've brought home from the u-pick farms or local markets. It's our candy, and all the better when that candy comes in a convenient crimson package about the size of a much-less-healthy malted milk ball. (What can I say? I have a natural sweet tooth, even if I am trying to cut back on sugars.) So cherries.  For those of you who are unfamiliar with cherry season and harvest, cherry trees can produce a lot of fruit. But, they do it quickly. Cherries are only in season for a few weeks, so when the little fruits are ready, they're ready.  One of the things I've started to become painfully aware of is that you don't get to pick when you're going to eat certain things if you're attempting to purchase seasonal, local foods.  Now, we're not becoming teetotalers of transported fruits completely--I'd much rather splurge on something like fresh fruit than packaged snacks or lots of processed gluten-free foods--but I'm trying to be more conscious.



My mom used to preserve fruits in the summer when I was little. My grandparents owned a time share at Lake Chelan, near Wenatchee, so we'd make a family trip out there in the summer and come back with cases of grade B peaches.  They didn't look quite pretty enough to sell at the supermarket, but they sure were tasty.  We also got Italian prunes from my paternal grandparents' tree in their yard, as well as lots of u-pick berries from the farms in Puyallup. (If you're not from Washington, please note that it's pronounced pyoo-al-up.) There was a lot of canning going on at our house. Hours and hours of steamy water baths, sticky jams, and fruit-pitting meant that we would have a cellar-full of fruit for the winter. Speaking of u-pick farms, can you think of something better than fresh blueberries off the bush in July? Picking berries for homemade jam is probably the last acceptable form of child labor. Granted, most kids end up with about a pound of berries in their little tummies by the time you get back to the car, so at least it's a fair wage. Or something. I never felt exploited, anyway.

So anyway, back to the canning. Mom never got a chance to teach me how to can fruits, though I imagine we would have had some differences of opinion on the necessity of using medium syrup instead of something a little lighter. But I wish I could have had the experience so many people did when she was growing up of hanging out in the kitchen, learning to preserve foods for the cold season.  I have only canned traditional jams and a couple of pickles so far--foods that require fairly little preserving skill other than attention to cleanliness.  This year, though, I will be canning like my mother--with a few differences, I hope. I've ordered several preserving books (why one, when you can get... five?) including Wild Fermentation, Put 'em Up, and one all about small-batch preserving. I figure those will get me through the year just fine. But those books aren't here yet, which is unfortunate because if you remember from before I went on this crazy story of my childhood I mentioned that it's cherry season right now. And I got ten pints of cherries at yesterday's Wednesday market in Leesburg. Yes, I said ten. What was I thinking? A good amount of said cherries are going to be eaten as is--how can anyone resist a bowl of fresh cherries?--but I had to figure out some way to preserve the rest.



So while I was trying to figure out what in the world I should do with all these cherries I remembered a post Julie Hasson did, probably a couple of years ago, on boozy cherries. Basically, cherries, sugar, and vodka in a crock for a couple of months. She mentioned that it was a great holiday gift idea. Bingo. I tend toward homemade holiday gifts anyway, so doing something a little fun this year sounded right up my alley.  I googled how to preserve fruits in alcohol and found loads of articles on this most basic of preserving methods. Drown fresh fruit in 80+ proof alcohol and a little sugar (if desired), and let sit for a few months.  Then strain the fruit (and use within a few days), funnel the liqueur into pretty, clean bottles, and get ready for the holidays.  All the articles I read point to a shelf life for the liqueur (not the drained fruit) of up to a year or so. Summer fruit becomes fancy Christmas gifts with very little effort. And you get to eat the boozy fruit, maybe over a Thanksgiving cheesecake. Or over vanilla ice cream. Or... I think you get the picture.

Last night my husband and I threw ourselves into experimenting with flavors. Some of them, I bet, will not work out.  He's in charge of the rumtopf this year with organic farmers market cherries, the peaches we'll receive, and a lot of rum. A lot. Like, we have two bottles' worth in the vat right now.  (PS: Thanksgiving is at my place. We don't drink nearly enough to deal with this on our own.) I loaded cherries into mason jars, spooned a little organic sugar over the top, threw some spices into a few of the jars, and topped with vodka. Our recycling bag looks like we are throwing parties in our humble little home. I promise you, I didn't even take a sip of the stuff.  I'm waiting for all that flavor to infuse.  In two jars I added a couple of sprigs of organic lavender flowers I got at the farmers market yesterday. They smell of my childhood, so I had to do it.  Another jar got some grains of paradise at my husband's request. Something spicy.  Yet another jar got star anise. Some I left plain in case the others taste horrible.



We ended up with a little vodka left over--enough for about a cup's worth of infusion. Infused vodka is another project my husband has been wanting to get at this year, so I let him have at it.  He chose my chipotle chai from World Spice to throw into the jar. I can only imagine what that will taste like in a month. It could be awesome, or it could be terrible. We'll see. That's the fun with experimentation.

Cookbook review: The Blooming Platter

A couple of months ago I was fortunate enough to be contacted by the folks at Vegan Heritage Press about possibly reviewing a copy of The Blooming Platter, a vegan cookbook by Betsy DiJulio published in May. While I've been putting off writing a full review until more of the ingredients were in season, I figured with farmers market in full swing it was about time I gave DiJulio's book its due.   The Blooming Platter is a lovely book, and very well-organized. That may be a weird thing to say [about a cookbook], but organization or lack thereof is something I truly look for first because frankly, if I can't find recipes I won't use them. This book is organized first by type of dish, then by season within the chapter.  In a seasonal cookbook, I find it truly helpful and inspiring to thumb through the recipes as I plan out my garden or trip to the farmers market.  There aren't any recipes with things like winter squash paired with eggplant, just gently laid-out ideas regarding what to make with what you can get wandering past the booths in that parking lot on Saturday mornings. And those ideas? They're good.  I have not had a chance yet to make all the recipes I'd like to prepare from the book. I have about twenty pages with their corners turned down, just waiting for that late summer and fall produce to roll in. I would prefer to give you a full review, but ultimately I think it better to give you a good idea as to what you can gain from checking DiJulio's book out--before you start gleaning bushels of zucchini from your little backyard garden.

The food, overall, is based on simple but well-balanced flavors that truly highlight the season's produce. Spring recipes yield fresh flavors and the colors of those leafy greens so abundant in April and May. My favorite of the springtime recipes was by far the spinach tortilla soup (though admittedly I made it with fresh chard leaves because that's what I was able to get from my CSA share this past week). Try it with the optional toasted pepita garnish, and you've got a kid-friendly and tasty weeknight dinner.  Other good choices include the red chard with toasted hazelnuts and the grilled radishes with spring greens with maple-curry vinaigrette. Try to tell me those dishes don't sound good. I have high hopes for the summer recipes.  Blackberry and corn salad? Yes, please. I am also just waiting for those beautiful purple eggplants to show up at the farmers market, mostly so I can make grilled eggplant with tahini-paprika sauce. I might just follow those with bourbon-broiled peaches.



I've got to say, for as much as I enjoyed looking through the main chapters of the book I think Betsy DiJulio truly shines with her sweets.  I mentioned the peaches, which I cannot wait to try, but there are also lovely recipes like macadamia shortbread tart with lemon mousse and fresh berries, baked apples baklava with cider sauce, and sweet potato layer cake with butterscotch-bourbon cream.  (Luckily these things are easily de-glutened, though I suggest converting the flour measurements to weights and substituting gluten-free flours appropriately.) Actually, the first recipe I tried from the book was a complete knock-out--chocolate carrot cake. Yes. Chocolate cake and carrot cake together? And the ganache is something completely out-of-the-ordinary, with a slight tang from non-dairy sour cream. Trust me--this one is worth making, whether you're able to make the cake with wheat flour or have to substitute a gluten-free blend. (Please excuse my photo... It truly doesn't do this cake justice.)

Now for the unpleasant part of my review:  I am going to have a hard time making a lot of these recipes as written because most of them include either soy or wheat, or both. That's not the author's fault, not conforming to what I can eat, but it is disappointing to have such a lovely seasonally-based cookbook not go to as good use as it could in my kitchen. I can modify recipes easily--and will--but The Blooming Platter won't be a book I can just pick up and cook from on an everyday basis. I wouldn't be as disappointed if I weren't so impressed with the book otherwise, so I suppose that is a good sign for those of you who can tolerate soy and wheat!

Bottom line:  I would recommend The Blooming Platter to anyone looking for a seasonally-conscious vegetarian cookbook. That being said, I would suggest that those of you reading who have sensitivity to gluten or soy to check the book out at the library before purchasing to more fully assess its usefulness in your kitchen.  Essentially, I recommend DiJulio's book with reservations.  There are some great recipes, but because of the reliance on wheat- and soy-based protein sources it's unfortunately not something I could hand to everyone as a reference for seasonal eating. If you have a friend or loved one new to seasonal or vegan foods, The Blooming Platter would be a great gift.  At least check it out long enough to make that carrot cake.

Late spring pesto with sweet basil and chard {vegan}

I don't know about you, but one of my absolute favorite parts of early summer is the smell of basil wafting in from my balcony garden.  That sweet, slightly licorice aroma is enough to bring me to my knees even before I've deigned to make pesto for a mountainous plate of linguine.  Linguine and pesto, pesto and linguine. If I ever disappear unexpectedly from writing this blog it's because I came into millions and moved to Italy so that I could shamelessly eat this stuff every day of the week. I might throw in gnocchi once in a while. Maybe.

As I wrote yesterday I got a nice pile of sweet basil from Moutoux Orchards on Friday. Unfortunately my own plants haven't matured quite enough to supplement the two cups' worth of farm-fresh basil leaves in order to make a full batch of that lovely green sauce. So, resourceful as I am I grabbed a few leaves of chard from the refrigerator and threw them into the food processor to round [the pesto] out.   Pesto is what you make of it; all the word "pesto" means is "paste." Last night's pesto was a glorious shade of green, chock full of garlic scapes, chard, basil, and even toasted pistachios. Add that to some brown rice pasta cooked to a perfect al dente texture, thin the pesto with a little starchy pasta water as needed,  and you've got one perfect meal.



Late spring pesto with sweet basil and chard (makes about2 cups)

2 cups packed sweet basil leaves

2 cups packed chard leaves

1 garlic scape, cut into 1-inch-long pieces

1/2 cup toasted pistachio nuts (roasted/salted is okay, but if you use salted nuts don't add the salt called for in the recipe)

juice of 2 lemons

1/2 tsp sea salt, or more to taste

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Place the basil, chard, scape, and nuts into the bowl of your food processor. Pulse until chopped fine.  Scrape down the sides of the bowl, then add the lemon juice and salt. Start the food processor to continue blending; slowly add the olive oil in a slow drizzle to emulsify.  Use immediately or freeze in an ice cube tray; then transfer the cubes to a plastic freezer bag for up to two months.

Garden update, more CSA info (week 2), and general love of all things green

Oh boy. Lots of stuff to cover today. Yesterday afternoon I picked up my little girl from her last day {sniff} at preschool and headed out to Purcellville to pick up our second week's share at Moutoux Orchard, so since I didn't write for you yesterday that's where I'll begin.  I've started a notebook cataloging what we've received weekly from both farms so that I can really keep track of our local growing season. I'm including notes about the ingredients, how I've liked using them, and what dates I've had access.  I've kept a book for my gardening adventures in the past and it's proved helpful, so, well, why not? (That way I also don't inundate you with things like "I am so sick of zucchini. Why won't it just go away?") I highly recommend that you try doing something similar if you're shopping local and/or receiving produce from a local farm's CSA program. Come December you won't remember exactly when you got the very best strawberries or whether a hot spell set the schedule off a little bit.



So yesterday when I went for our second pickup I was all set. Mentally, and physically. (Last week the amount of raw milk we got was rather epic, and considering it was all in half gallon glass jars we got a workout carrying it up a long flight of stairs from the car when we got home.) What would we get? Two products were gimmes--raw milk and lovely eggs from the farm's pastured chickens.  I'll spare you the details, but I definitely couldn't even handle raw milk after two days, so the only dairy I got this week was for my husband. That was helpful. Eggs are a little easier to carry, and we got lots. Being gluten-free and dairy-free and trying to cut out too many non-local ingredients, I've found that a quick scramble with eggs and some greens makes for a great breakfast. So eggs we got.



I don't usually talk about meat here, but I am so thrilled with what we've gotten from our CSA share so far. We've picked out some lovely pork sausage, soup bones for stock, and yesterday one of those pastured chickens. We have been eating more meat than we had previously, but still a fairly modest amount. All pasture-raised and cared-for.  This morning we ate a frittata with sautéed chard stems, garlic scapes, and some of that sausage. It was lovely.



As for the vegetables, it's still greens season here. So we got lots and lots... and lots... of greens. We came home with five large bunches each of Red Russian kale and rainbow chard, along with more garlic scapes, a couple of heads of lettuce, and some fresh basil that I'll be using in pesto tonight. All of the produce is a gorgeous shade of green (with hints of deep red, because of the varieties) with only a few of those little nibbles from the pest set--which I actually welcome, since it reminds me that there's nothing toxic on my food.



What we could have gotten, and didn't because they're not welcome here: whole grains and flours (spelt and wheat), and other dairy such as kefir, yogurt, butter, and yogurt cheese (which I would either bake with or consume myself... and can't). We probably took more veggies and eggs than some; others probably took more dairy and grains. It all works out.



Oh, and a quick update on my own little garden! We harvested our first batch of kale this week and put it into a salad. (It tasted like sunshine.) All the pictures here are of my little herb garden that's been getting quite the workout as well. As you can see, my dill is kind of taking over. So is the mint. I see a lot of pickles and mint tea in my future.  I also have cat grass and catnip for the beasties. (They've gotten a bonus treat this week because I've briefly let them out on the balcony to munch said catnip before the weather's gotten too hot.)  My rosemary and parsley are also doing well, and pretty soon I will be making more basil than is probably right and proper.

And now, I'm off to the farmers market for more honey and some fresh shiitakes. Be jealous.

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Have you entered the June giveaway yet?  Details here.

What to do with all those garlic scapes {CSA loot}

Last Friday we packed up the whole family--my hubby was even home from work early enough to go!--and headed out to Moutoux Orchard for our first pick-up of the year. I've already mentioned that we received a lot of raw dairy from our herd share, as well as loads of eggs with gorgeous, deep orange yolks. The veggies are moving along a little more slowly, though, so what we had to pick from was a bit slim. (Such is life... There are only so many early veggie crops, and the weather really dictates how everything is going to come up.) We picked up a couple of heads of butter lettuce and some Red Russian kale; both are easy to use and delicious.  But as I turned to the buckets of produce I was blown away by the abundance of garlic scapes. There. Were. Tons. Well maybe not tons, but certainly a lot. And who am I to let any part of a garlic plant--or anything else--go to waste? That's not my style.



So I brought home garlic scapes. About a reusable grocery tote full of those spirally green tops of the garlic plant, actually. My car smelled heavily of garlic when we got home--not a bad thing, but certainly a preview of my fire-breathing existence for the rest of the week.  Friday night I made pesto with some scapes and a can of white beans, some olive oil, and salt. Delicious, but I admittedly over-did the garlic a little.  Kitchen fails happen occasionally. And if you remember, Friday was my husband's and my anniversary. Luckily, he ate the pesto too. (Celia = not so smart sometimes.)



Thus the garlic scape adventure began, with a [very] pungent pesto.  But you know, I don't regret making it, even if it was on my anniversary.  I learned about an ingredient--its texture, intensity, color. I found out that I could make a gorgeous pesto with a little less garlic, lots of home-grown parsley, lemon juice, and olive oil without needing to salt it much at all.  I learned that I can make an infused vinegar with garlic scapes, and can pickle them to keep that flavor until the winter. But mostly, I learned that roasted garlic scapes are divine.  You know that gorgeous flavor extracted from a head of garlic roasted slowly in the oven with a little olive oil? You can do that with garlic scapes too.  There's no point in giving you a real "recipe" for this; all you have to do is pile the curly-q's onto a broiler tray, drizzle with good olive oil, sprinkle with salt, and put them into a 400 degree oven until they're caramelized and soft.   To make them even better, serve with a little homemade marinara (light on the seasonings) to cut the pungency just a bit.



If my little non-recipe isn't enough for your abundance of scapes this spring (or is it summer?--we've got a triple digit day forecast... ugh), how about trying Umami Girl's recipe for pesto? Or, chop it up finely, sauté in a little olive oil; then cool and make a compound butter. Best. Thing. Ever, on homemade bread. Maybe roast a lot and use the extras in a garlicky pasta sauce. (I vote for that one. I'm planning on throwing some in the crock pot this weekend.) Chop some up and use it in a stir-fry, maybe. Or in bean soup! Yes, in soup. The smell of all that garlic cooking for hours sounds fabulous.  Just don't make soup on the stove if it's supposed to be 100+ degrees... Just use your slow-cooker. (Trust me. That was a mistake I won't make again.) Or, finally, throw some pickled scapes into a cold soup, like some gazpacho.  It's almost tomato season, after all.

PS: Speaking of garlic, have you entered the June giveaway for a copy of Herbs & Spices yet? (It's got a ton of great ideas for garlic, hint hint.)

CSA loot, week 2: Cherries!

We got our second box from Great Country Farms yesterday.  In [the box] were a bag of baby collards with leaves the size of my palm, last-of-the-season strawberries and asparagus, some scallions, an herb start, a couple of heads of lettuce... and a pint of these babies:



Sweet cherries are here!

Oh--I'm not sure I updated with last Friday's pickup out at Moutoux Orchard. We got some beautiful Red Russian kale, tons of garlic scapes, a couple of heads of butter lettuce, lots of eggs and raw dairy from the herd share, and some meat (a roast, some sausage, and a little stew meat).  Interestingly--and this probably will be an ongoing experiment--I seem to be able to tolerate small amounts of raw milk. (I do this with the blessing of my doctor.) I may not be able to do tolerated it for long, but it would cut some miles out of our food sourcing if it works for me. At any rate, my family is enjoying the dairy quite a bit. Almond milk is still a staple, and will be forever regardless.  So we'll see.  I may have a few dairy recipes here and there if I can tolerate eating/drinking milk products from these local cows.

I was worried that our shares would overlap too much, but it looks like we'll be getting a good variety of produce between the two farms. I just got some canning equipment for the summer bounty of tomatoes and peaches, so I think we're all set.  I'll be somewhat limited this year because I decided to forgo a pressure canner, but I don't see myself canning a lot of summer veggies in any manner other than pickling anyway.  We'll see.

Have a lovely Wednesday!

Why I love baking for others

This goes back to my big "food is for sharing" post from a few weeks ago. From an email my husband received summarizing the bake sale last week:

Lastly, we would like to thank _______ and his wife for providing a portion of vegan, gluten-free, and dairy-free products, because of you this little girl whol couldn't be more than ten years old was able to partake in a strawberry chocolate chip blondie... I wish that you could have seen the face of the little girl and her mother when they realized that someone actually took the time to be considerate of this dietary need.

You can bet that I cried.  I don't care if anyone else liked the food I baked, so long as that little girl was able to walk away with a blondie.

Thought of the day: Seasonality

I've been thinking a lot these last few months on many of the issues surrounding local, ethical, and sustainable food production; much of this thinking--don't laugh--has been stimulated by my intent to throw myself completely into this year of eating as locally as possible. Now that we are receiving food from our CSA shares and our own balcony garden, I am trying to catch up on some required reading while I admittedly throw money at a group of hardworking local farmers to do the growing for me. (As an apartment-dweller, there's not much more I can do than buy local foods and support the farmers who grow it. It's not quite enough in my grand plans of garden domination, but it'll have to do for a few more years until we settle in one place for good. Hopefully with some land.) This weekend I started reading Barbara Kingsolver's memoir of her family's year of eating locally.  I am not so far into the book that I can give an honest and in-depth review. I can say, however, that I think Kingsolver hits the nail on the head with this passage from an early chapter of the book:

The A handful of creative chefs have been working for years to establish this incipient notion of positive American food culture--a cuisine based on our own ingredients... However, to the extent that it's even understood, this cuisine is widely assumed to be the property of the elite. Granted, in restaurants it can sometimes be pricey, but the do-it-yourself version is not.  I am not sure how so many Americans came to believe only our wealthy are capable of honoring a food aesthetic.  Anyone who thinks so should have a gander at the kitchens of working-class immigrants from India, Mexico, anywhere really. Cooking at home is cheaper than buying packaged foods or restaurant meals of comparable quality.  Cooking good food is mostly a matter of having the palate and the skill.

The main barrier standing between ourselves and a local-food culture is not price, but attitude. The most difficult requirements are patience and a pinch of restraint--virtues that are hardly the property of the wealthy. These virtues seem to find precious little shelter, in fact, in any modern quarter of this nation founded by Puritans. Furthermore, we apply them selectively: browbeating our teenagers with the message that they should wait for sex, for example. Only if they wait to experience intercourse under the ideal circumstances (the story goes), will they know its true value. "Blah blah blah," hears the teenager: words issuing from a mouth that can't even wait for the right time to eat tomatoes, but instead consumes tasteless ones all winter to satisfy a craving for everything now. We're raising our children on the definition of promiscuity if we feed them a casual, indiscriminate mingling of foods from every season plucked from the supermarket, ignoring how our sustenance is cheapened by wholesale desires.

Waiting for the quality experience seems to be the constitutional article that has slipped from American food custom.  If we mean to reclaim it, asparagus seems like a place to start. And if the object of our delayed gratification is a suspected aphrodisiac? That's the sublime paradox of food culture: restraint equals indulgence.

(text from Animal, Vegetable, Miracle by Barbara Kingsolver, in the chapter "Waiting for Asparagus: Late March" pp 31-32; published by Harper Perennial in 2008)

While other parts of the book (so far, anyway) seem to be the millionaire's food dream--e.g., fixing up a century-old farm with no mention of cost--I think the sentiment is right here. Kingsolver is talking about food culture as being intentional. Learning, knowing. While the book is based on the local, organic, sustainable food system near Kingsolver's farm, the concept of learning to cook from scratch with in-season ingredients (whenever possible, in most of our cases) is an invaluable live skill.  Most people can't do 100% local or organic, but intentional eating is going to give you better food even if you only buy conventional produce from the local supermarket. In-season food is better and less expensive. Cooking beans and rice from scratch is more frugal and more sustainable than that seven-layer burrito from a fast food joint. And, as my grandmother always told me, patience is a virtue. Kingsolver's right about asparagus: Those first stalks in spring are glorious.

Ginger-rhubarb bundt cake (vegan/gluten-free)

Now that we are at the end of rhubarb season I'm finally posting about those gloriously tart red stalks. I have made tons of different things with rhubarb this spring, including a Thai curry that was surprisingly delicious. But, since I baked up a storm this week for a bake sale at my husband's office and I seem to post recipes for baked goods more than anything else, I have a sweet rhubarb recipe to share with you today. This recipe for rhubarb bundt cake is in memory of my mom, who used to grow rhubarb in our back yard in Washington state when I was little. My sisters and I would eat stalks of rhubarb raw, dipped in sugar, while my mom baked up the best strawberry-rhubarb pie I've ever eaten.  So this is for her; I think she would approve.



Ginger-rhubarb bundt cake

200 grams superfine brown rice flour

100 grams "sweet" white sorghum flour

100 grams arrowroot starch

2 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp fine sea salt

1 tsp ground ginger

1 cup rice milk

30 grams flaxseed meal

2/3 cup non-hydrogenated vegan margarine (I used soy-free Earth Balance.)

1 1/3 cup agave nectar

1 Tbsp vanilla extract

zest and juice of one lemon

4 stalks rhubarb, finely chopped

1/2 cup finely chopped candied ginger

Preheat oven to 350 F. Liberally grease a 10-inch bundt pan; then dust with brown rice flour, tapping out any extra. Set aside.

Measure the flours into a medium bowl. Add the baking soda salt, and ginger. Whisk to combine. In a large bowl cream together the margarine and agave nectar with an electric mixer running at medium speed. Add the rice milk, flax meal, vanilla, and lemon zest and juice; slowly beat to combine. Add the dry ingredients in 3 batches, beating until smooth.  Fold in the rhubarb and candied ginger.   Pour the batter into the prepared pan, smoothing the top a bit if necessary.  Bake for 55-60 minutes, until a knife inserted into the middle comes out with only a couple of moist crumbs.  Allow to cool completely in the pan before turning out onto a serving plate.

June book giveaway: Herbs & Spices

This month I'm giving away a copy of one of my favorite reference books, Jill Norman's Herbs & Spices: The cook's reference. I am not going to write a long review of the book because there are only a very few recipes at the back.  I will say, however, that Herbs & Spices has been an invaluable tool for me as I work on recipe development as well as "just" cooking for my family. Look up any herb or spice you can possibly think of and you'll get a botanical description, as well as traditional usage and suggestions as to which other herbs and/or spices it complements. The flavors are categorized by type (e.g., anise, fennel, star anise, etc. under licorice) and you see photographs for identification. (Trust me--when you come across things like black cumin at the international market and buy some on impulse, these things come in very handy.)



You have four chances to enter for a copy of Herbs & Spices.  Here are the details:

• First, comment on this blog post telling me your favorite herb or spice and why you love it so much.


• Second, become a Facebook fan; then come back and comment on this post telling me you "liked" my page.


• Third, follow me on Twitter (username @cdotoz); then leave a comment here telling me you did.


• Last, subscribe via RSS feed. Once again, come back to this post and comment telling me you subscribe.

I will be drawing a winner on June 20th around lunchtime. Happy cooking!

Happy anniversary

... to my incredible husband.  Thanks for sticking by me through the difficult times, and for sharing the good times with me.  I'm a lucky girl. I can't wait to see what the next decades bring.

Grilled cardamom-glazed apricots

Ah, grilling season. I keep hearing that it starts Memorial Day, but I am of the opinion that as long as it's not blizzard-ing outside [the grill] is fair game. Granted, we're not allowed propane or charcoal grills at our apartment complex--I'm confined to my cast iron grill pan--but if I did have an outdoor grill you can bet I'd have been using it in January. Still, there's something lovely about the unofficial beginning of summer that makes me want to just grill something. Even if it's on my little stovetop pan.

I'm convinced most of the country was outdoors grilling burgers or sausages this weekend (veggie or meat), but I have lately been craving all sorts of fresh fruit on the grill. Pineapple works well. So do peaches, though I'm waiting for the local ones from our CSA share coming in July. On my last trip to Whole Foods I picked up some gorgeous apricots. I know, I know--not in season in Virginia. But they were so tempting, with their warm orange color with a hint of blush.  And so, tonight when I was thinking of dessert I immediately went for a few of those apricots, slicing them in half and brushing with a glaze of freshly-ground cardamom and agave.  A little exotic sweetness, perfect served with ice cream or with a glass of dessert wine on a warm June evening.



Grilled cardamom-glazed apricots (serves 2-4)

4 apricots, halved and pitted

1 Tbsp agave nectar

1/4 tsp freshly-ground cardamom

Preheat a cast iron grill pan over medium-high heat for 3 to 5 minutes.

In a small bowl combine the agave and cardamom. Brush the agave mixture onto the cut side of each apricot half using a pastry brush.  Place four of the apricot halves, cut side down, on the preheated grill pan. Cook for 4 minutes; then turn over and grill for an additional four minutes. Remove from heat and place on a plate. Repeat with the remaining apricot halves.  Serve alone or with vanilla ice cream.

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Shared at Cybele Pascal's Allergy Friendly Friday 6/3/11. Check out other recipes and links here.

Also shared at Simply Sugar & Gluten-Free's Slightly Indulgent Tuesday 6/7/11. Check out the other submissions here.