The
Main Street Farmers' MarketKeep fresh:
For our lovely newsletter,enter your email address below.
We
will not give your name to anyone.
Our newsletter comes just once a week.
Our newsletter comes only during the Market season.
You may safely unsubscribe, if you wish, at any time.
Our email
Every week, throughout the Market season, we send out an attractive newsletter by email. You can see a sample here. It's a good reminder that the Market is coming. It is also useful, entertaining and short. Please sign up!
Our archived articles (from past newsletters)
Below you will find an archive of our general newsletter articles, or at least the ones we liked best. We'll add new ones and drop others as the season progresses. We have a seperate archive of the nutrition articles ("Eating Well") written by Stacy Edwards, Registered Dietitian for the Health and Wellness Institute of the Washington Hospital.
You can see those nutrition articles here: Eating Well!
Heat's Hot: Then and Now
This is the season for peppers of all varieties. However the name "peppers" is a complete misnomer. It was actually a clever sales pitch by Columbus who first brought these back to Europe, perhaps on his very first voyage. He wanted his discovery to be associated (or perhaps confused with) the rare and expensive black pepper from the Orient (which was the original object of his voyage). The Dutch, who imported the real black pepper, objected strenuously and tried, with partial success, to require that these be referred to by their Mexican name, chili.
The original chilies are still with us, wild and free. They offer up tiny but brilliantly red pods at the top of the plant pointing upward. This is an open invitation to birds, which don't taste the powerful "heat" these peppers contain. Birds eat chilies with pleasure, spread the indigestible seeds around (with a little useful fertizer as well), and thereby propogate the plant. While the fiery capsaicin doesn't bother birds, it does serve a very useful purpose in discouraging mammals from eating the pods. Even if chili seeds escape a mammal's grinding molars, mammalian digestion will so damage them that they won't grow. So having very hot seeds has always been a good way to preserve those seeds for disbursal by birds.
People, however, are perverse. Unlike other sensible mammals that leave hot chilies alone, Central Americans began eating them long ago. And they started improving them. The two most important changes were getting them to grow bigger and getting them to drop down inside the bushy plant, where they would not be so obvious to birds. And once Columbus showed up, chilies spread across the world with startling speed. Unlike the tomato, the potato, and corn (which took a long time to find acceptance), hot chilies swept the world's trade routes and were embraced almost instantly by nearly all cultures to which they were introduced. Within just a few years of Columbus' first voyages, they were being traded to India and Southeast Asia. And they were then quickly carried back into the Middle East, the Balkans and Europe. They were being eaten in Italy by 1526, in Germany by 1543, and in Hungary by 1569.
Remarkably, the plant that won such nearly instant acceptance was NOT the mild, sweet peppers that we first think of when someone says, "cut up a pepper." Sweet peppers did not become popular in most countries until the beginning of the 20th Century, when there arose a demand for a greater variety of fresh vegetables. It was the fiery hot pepper that was embraced with such enthusiasm. Spices, not veggies, were what the world craved.
-SD
With thanks to Alan Davidson, The Oxford Companion to Food
and Dave DeWitt and Paul W. Bosland, The Pepper Garden.
Too Hot?
(a bit of practical advice)
If you find (like so many mammals before you) that you have eaten chilies that are a little too hot for comfort, reach for milk or rice to soothe your burning mouth. Capsaicin does not dissolve easily in water, so that won't quench the burn. Alcohol does dissolve the capsaicin, but doesn't soothe nearly as well as milk. Cucumbers are also recommended. In India, cucumbers and yogurt are combined (this dish is known as "raita") to comfort the tender of tongue.
-SD
Buy Local - It's Better
See this chicken? It is one of Mike and Donna
Eisenstat's
flock and is shown in its natural setting - running around the farm. In
fact, at their farm, if you leave a car door open, you will shortly
find chickens inside. So if you buy local eggs from them, or from any of our vendors, you will be buying eggs from chickens
that are well treated and live the sort of farm life that we expect
chickens to enjoy. If you buy local, you don't have to worry about how
the major corporate farms treat their chickens (and trust me, you don't
want to know). When you buy local, you buy kindness with your eggs.
See this pepper? It is one of those grown
organically by Blue
Bird Farm. It was picked just hours before I found it at the Market. If
you buy local, you are buying produce that has usually been picked that
morning. It has been picked ripe, ready for sale. It may be an
heirloom, or organic, or just an extremely nice specimen. But whatever
it is, it is as good and wholesome as vegetables get. When you buy
local, you can ask how and where your vegetables have been grown and
rest easy with the knowledge that your food is as good as it gets.
See this truck? It belongs to Frank and Karen
Zrimm. It
carried a load of vegetables to our Market from the Zrimms' farm near
Avella. It traveled all of 20 miles to get to our market. That isn't
much gas, nor much of a strain on the environment. Short of growing
your own food, buying local is as gentle on the environment as you can
be.
See this farmer? This is Frank Zrimm. Say "Hi,
Frank!" He and
his wife, Karen, operate a vegetable farm near Avella. They bring you
wonderful vegetables, picked fresh each morning every Market day. And
they bring themselves as well. You can talk to them about the weather,
the vegetables, the life of a farmer, or whatever you like. They are
nice, friendly people. Anyone would be lucky to count them as friends.
When you buy local, your purchases are personal. You give your money to
people you like, people you can know. And your money helps them and
helps your local community.
Buy local. It's kind, good, gentle, and personal. Shopping doesn't get better than this.
- SD
Market Quick - Quesadillas
All of us have those moments when we don't know what to fix and don't have a lot of ambition.
Here's a quick, easy dinner. And almost all of its ingredients are available from the Market. Look for a few of your favorite veges, some nice cheese, and a small dish of your favorite salsa. The only ingredients we don't have are the tortillas and sour cream, so pick up those at the grocery today and you can have this very simple and delicious dinner tomorrow.
Market Quesadillas
The Filing: All you do here is briefly saute some of your favorite Market vegetables. The pan above contains some sweet corn, tomatoes, hot peppers, and summer squash. But anything you like will do.
The Quesadillas: Simply put a tortilla in a dry, hot pan. Spoon a little of the vegetable mixture on it, add a layer of the cheese of your choice, and cover it with another tortilla. Turn it after a few minutes and fry the second side. Don't worry if a little of the cheese and vegetables fall out. They'll do that. But they fry up nicely too. Flip a few more times if you need to. You are looking for crispy, browned tortillas and melted cheese. Serve when ready, cut into easier-to-handle wedges.
The Condiments: I like these with sour cream and salsa. But suit your own tastes.
This dinner isn't only fast, but delicious. And, unusually for me, it is healthy as well. Keep it in mind the next time you are feeling tired or a little lazy. After all, we all deserve a break now and then.
-SD
Tomatillos
(and other "tomatoes" with husks)
Tomatillos are rather curious fruits. They look like little green tomatoes, but are entirely enclosed by papery husks. They are in the same family as tomatoes and, like tomatoes, were a major crop for the Aztecs in Central America. Unlike tomatoes, they never really made the big trip to Europe. But they are very good, especially for salsas. They have a slightly sweet flavor with a very pronounced lemony bite and a lovely green color. They are used, as result, for dishes with a fresh, bright taste. The Market has had them fresh for several months and they are always available at our salsa vendor in the form of a green (tomatillo) salsa. They will keep well, wrapped in paper, in the refrigerator for several weeks. And you can freeze them whole, thawing them and smushing them as needed. A nice recipe for a roasted tomatillo salsa from the famous Mexican cook Rick Bayless can be found here.
There are other fruits in the same genus (Physalis), most of them smaller. Some are known as "ground cherries" and are sweet and another is known as the "Cape Gooseberry" (after its tart flavor and principal place of cultivation - the Cape of Good Hope in Africa). A friend just had something similar in a market in New York described as a "husk tomato" and reports that it tasted of both tomato and pineapple. This was surely one of these other species of Physalis, although it is hard to know exactly what she was offered. The name "husk tomato" is widely used and is often applied to the tomatillo as well.
-SD
Market Style
(a short slide show)
I am pleased to say that many of our shoppers brighten up our Market considerably. Some even class-up the place. So here is a little photo homage to a few of those elegant market goers we've managed to photograph.
-SD
Know them by their deeds
(a rough classification of beans)
Beans are complicated. Most beans are all one species: Phaseolus vulgarus. Yet the familiar Lima bean, azuki bean, mung bean, and black-eyed pea are all different species of the genus Phaseolus. And the broad bean and the soya bean each have their own genus. But even the common bean (P. vulgarus) is hard to classify. Even describing it as "the" common bean seems odd, given how many different beans are all lumped together in this one species. South and Central American farmers were not content with one useful and delicious legume and so, over the last 5000 years or so, turned that single species into so many varieties that it is hard describe them in any tidy way. So we are advised by The Oxford Companion to Food to follow the practical wisdom of cooks everywhere and group them by their use.
Eaten very young, pod and all:
This is your familiar green bean, wax bean, and the like. They have been selected for tender pods when young. The Aztec's called them "ayecotl," which was corrupted in the French to "haricot' (remember, that "h" is faint and the final "t" is silent). Many of these beans where once stringy, but the strings are now mostly gone. So they snap nicely when fresh. When young and tender (as they should be), they can be boiled, steamed, sautéed, or even enjoyed raw.
Eaten young, but shelled:
These are the soft, fresh, "shelling" beans. You may have had the French flageolet bean, which is described as "a true delicacy" by The Oxford Companion to Food. These are thin skinned, require very little cooking, and melt in the mouth. While I have eaten and enjoyed these in restaurants, I've never cooked them myself. But I vow to do so this year. The Market often has several varieties, including something known as the cranberry bean (which is splashed with vivid red). So join me in branching out a bit. Let's try the fresh shelling beans this summer.
Eaten young, but shelled and popped:
This was news to me. There is apparently a group of beans that are picked young, shelled, tossed into a pan with a little hot oil, and popped like popcorn. Because they have tough seed coats, the steam inside can't get out and cooks the bean, which expands to about twice its original size. In the process, the pressure inside the bean forces open the seed coat. They don't explode with the force of popcorn, but are said "to open like butterflies spreading their wings." These beans were cultivated by the Inca, are soft, and taste like roasted peanuts when popped. They are thought to have been an adaptation to cooking at high altitudes, where water is so hard to boil that the cooking of normal beans is impractical or worse. But they don't grow well outside the tropics. So while I'd love to try these, I don't think we are going to see them at the Market, even if we waived our locality rules.
Eaten when mature, shelled, dried, and boiled:
These are your familiar hard beans: Navy beans, pinto beans, kidney (and cannellini) beans, and Mexican black beans. These are allowed to fully mature and are then dried. They keep well, but are so hard that they either must be cooked for a long time or soaked, before cooking, for an even longer time. They have a rich, full flavor and are very nutritious. You can taste these now, in the black bean salsa available at the Market and in the "mean beans" served by our BBQ vendor.
With thanks to the Oxford Companion to Food, Alan Davidson, Oxford University Press, 1999
-SD
On a Summers Night
(Gazpacho)
There are many dishes that might be described as "Market Meals," but none of them sample the summer's bounty like gazpacho (a Spanish tomato soup served very cold). It is perfect for a hot summer's night.
Like all simple and wonderful things, people have invented many variations. I learned to love gazpacho from Anna Thomas' 1972 recipe in The Vegetarian Gourmet. This was a fancy gazpacho, enriched with mayonnaise and thickened with 3 eggs (well mixed in with the soup which was then ever so slightly cooked before being refrigerated). And it was luscious. But love and 25 years of pleasant accommodation with my wife have changed me (hopefully for the better). I now prefer a simpler, cleaner soup, spiced up a lot and served with huge, crunchy, home-made croutons.
Gazpacho
(with thanks to The Joy of Cooking, 1995 edition, and my wife)
2 large ripe tomatoes (seeded and coarsely chopped)
1 large green pepper (seeded, membrane removed, and coarsely chopped)
1 Spanish onion (coarsely chopped)
1 large cucumber (peeled and coarsely chopped)
1 clove of garlic (coarsely chopped)
½ cup mixed herbs (whatever you have, possibly chives, parsley, basil, chervil, tarragon, etc.)
3 cups of water, stock, or V-8
½ cup olive oil
3 Tablespoons of lemon or lime juice
1 ½ Teaspoons salt (to taste)
½ teaspoon paprika
Blender these together (you may need to do this in batches). My wife emboldens this soup. She uses V-8 instead of water or stock, adds more lemon or lime juice to suit her taste, tosses in a splash of gin or vodka, and then adds a generous sprinkle of Tabasco sauce.
Chill the soup until cold. While it is chilling, make the croutons. Slice some bread into thick slices, then into coarse cubes. Melt lots of butter in a large frying pan with a splash of olive oil, add a crushed or diced garlic clove, and throw in one of the herbs you used in making the soup. Sauté them briefly. Toss in the bread cubes. Get them all nice and buttery. Then brown them in a hot oven or under the broiler. If you use the broiler, please learn from my example and don't walk away to do something else. Smoke and flames lie in that direction! Oh, yes they do.
Serve the soup very cold with a few of those big croutons floating on the top.
Nothing better suits sitting on the back porch, watching a summer evening slip into night, than this lovely cold soup, some crunchy croutons, and the company of someone who knew you when your tastes were different.
-SD
Plain and Simple
This article doesn't feature anything exotic, anything strange. It is merely a story about how quality ingredients transformed an ordinary meal into something startlingly good - and then did it again!
A few weeks ago, we bought one of those beautiful (if rather large) frozen chickens from West Liberty Poultry, the Market's visiting vendor of pastured poultry. We also bought some potatoes and fresh corn. We roasted that chicken, cut the corn from the cob and sauteed it in butter, and mashed the potatoes with lots of cream, butter, and half & half. Then I used the pan drippings to whip us up some gravy. OK, those potatoes were not especially healthy, and the entire meal was just as American as can be. But it sure wasn't dull. The corn was crisp, the potatoes luscious, the gravy savory and salty, and the chicken - well that chicken was amazing. It just brimmed over with chickeny goodness. Though I often buy premium grocery-store chicken, I was startled when I put my fork to my lips. And I wondered to myself if that rich taste was what chicken was like, back when it was considered a rare treat and came from nearby family farms.
But not only did this lovely meal please our family of three (including a hungry college student), but it did this TWICE. The chicken was big and there was lots of gravy, some potatoes, and a little corn left when we were full. So before putting it away, I diced up the remaining chicken, mixed it with the gravy and corn, and spread the remaining mashed potatoes over the top. That went into the fridge. Two days later, after a busy day for all, it was slipped into a hot oven. It came out bubbling and golden. I hardly need to tell you that this chicken version of shepherd's pie was delicious. And easy. Best of all, I was reminded twice that plain and simple can be just lovely.
- SD
Grilled Eggplant
Eggplants have just arrived at the Market. This being the height of summer, grilling them seems like a good idea. Grilling eggplant is very easy and results in a dish that is best served at room temperature (which makes taking it places easy). Best of all, it ends up being delicious. There are many versions, but here is one that brings me compliments whenever I take it to a picnic, party, or summer dinner. But I can't claim any credit. That goes to Anna Thomas, who shared it with the world in her 1996 cookbook, The New Vegetarian Epicure).
3 large eggplants
salt
2 cloves of garlic
1/4 cup of olive oil
1/4 cup of balsamic vinegar
(This is not calling for the rare, costly variety of balsamic vinegar.
For advice on choosing balsamic vinegars, look for the article
under this one.)
black pepper
1/2 large red onion, thinly sliced
3 Tablespoons (or more) slivered fresh basil leaves
grilled eggplantsSlice the eggplants into 1/2 slices (leaving the pretty purple skin on). Salt them on both sides and put them aside to weep in a glass dish or platter. (This removes some of the water they contain). Let them weep for 30 minutes to an hour. Then pat them dry with paper towels, squeezing them gently to get out more water.
Mince or press the garlic and put it in the olive oil. Brush that garlicky oil over both sides of the eggplant slices. Then grill the slices over a hot fire until they are slightly charred and tender. This doesn't take long, so don't put them on the grill and walk away. I've made some nice black hockey pucks that way.
Once they are grilled, spread out 1/2 of them in one layer on a platter, prick them here and there with a fork, sprinkle them with 1/2 of the balsamic vinegar and salt and pepper them to your taste. Scatter 1/2 of the red onions and 1/2 of the basil over the top. Then repeat with the remaining eggplant slices, making a second layer.
Then let it sit a bit, if you can. You can leave it at room temperature for a few hours and it will be perfect. If you want to keep it longer, you'd best refrigerate it. But it is best served at room temperature, which, of course, is perfect for picnics and pot-lucks.
- SD
Enjoying Balsamic Vinegars (without breaking the bank)
The finest artisan-made balsamic vinegars are old, rare, and extraordinarily expensive. And they are not used like normal vinegars, but rather are used in tiny quantities drizzled over meats and fruit. But you don't need, or even want one of these for the grilled eggplant described above. Hey, you are using a quarter cup of the stuff!
Ordinary mass-produced balsamic vinegars are just fine for this use. Better yet, they can be improved immensely just by adding a little brown sugar. Use a generous pinch per tablespoon. And most grocery stores now have at least a few balsamics to choose from. (Our Giant Eagle, in particular, now stocks a wide range of balsamic vinegars.) I'd choose one from the middle of the price range, but that's up to you. You are looking for a rich, warm taste. If the one you have is thin tasting or harsh, use it for salad dressings and buy another brand when you run out. You'll quickly find something delicious.
Credit for this advice goes to Lynne Rossetto Kasper, author of The Splendid Table. She is a great Italian cook, hosts an NPR cooking show of the same name, and knows her way around Italian condiments. Thanks, Lynn!
- SD
Carrots: A political vegetable?
Carrots have not always been orange. When Arabs introduced carrots to Europe for the second time, in approximately the 1300s, carrots came in two varieties: a purplish-red carrot with a juicy, succulent root and a yellow-green carrot with an inferior flavor and courser texture. The first evidence of orange carrots is their depiction in a Dutch painting from 1559 (Christ and the Adulterers by Pieter Aertsen of Amsterdam). It is widely said that orange carrots were developed as a tribute to William of Orange, the powerful king of the Netherlands at that time and are orange to this day as a result. This story is widely repeated, but I have my doubts.
One of the major problems of doing history is simple human nature. We all like a good story. And we just can't resist spreading a good story around. A time-honored expression (attributed to many different people including Mark Twain) puts it nicely: a lie will go around the world while truth is putting its boots on. Anyone familiar with the internet knows this only too well. But, of course, this also complicates doing history. You can't trust a story just because it is widely repeated.
So were carrots made orange in order to flatter a king? I have no idea. But the story doesn't pass my smell test. In my experience, people prefer one variety of vegetable over another because one tastes better, keeps better, grows more easily, or is better at resisting disease. Politics, as a rule, doesn't seem to enter into these more practical considerations. It's possible that some eager grower tried to curry a little Royal favor by proclaiming that his carrots were more patriotic than his neighbors'. But I just can't see shoppers and farmers, trying to fill their shopping baskets or their fields, paying much attention to such a thin, symbolic attribute.
So as you shop tomorrow, look for the tender, the sweet, the beautiful vegetables. I'll wager you will be doing the same thing Dutch shoppers were doing 500 years ago.
- SD
Corn's astonishing transformation
Most people have heard that a course grass called teosinte is an ancestor of corn. And a few of you will know that it still grows in the remote mountains of western Mexico. But biologists have long disagreed (and disagreed passionately) over how teosinte contributed to the appearance of corn some 9000 years ago.
Put simply, ears of teosinte are so different from ears of corn that most of the scientific community simply couldn't believe that teosinte was corn's sole or even principal parent. After all, teosinte may have corn-like foliage, but it has a tiny sprig of seeds, each protected by a hard shell and attached very loosely, so that the sprig of seeds shatters easily, dispursing the armored seeds. (In the picture above, teosinte is shown on the right and a very primitive corn is shown on the left.) Corn, on the other hand, has soft, naked seeds firmly attached to a huge cob and the whole ear is then securely wrapped in modified leaves so that the corn seeds cannot easily fall from the plant. This structure has meant that corn can no longer reproduce in the wild. Its seeds are trapped in the cob and generally rot there if left unpicked. These two arrangments are so different, biologists had generally assumed that some mystery plant, some ancient corn-like plant now extinct, interbred with teosinte to produce the corn we know.
But science regularly upends its own established opinions. Advances in genetic research have now shown that corn is teosinte, merely reshaped by domestication. Corn and teosinte are genetically identical in almost every respect and can interbreed successfully. It took only one little change in a single gene, which in turn altered one amino acid, to transform the armored seed of teosinte into a soft, naked seed. And thereafter, it only took generations of farmers, each picking the best seeds for next year's crops, to produce a plant with large cobs of seeds, well wrapped so that they could not escape harvest.
We think of genetic engineering as something that takes place in a lab somewhere. But corn is the dramatic result of an older form of genetic engineering practiced by peasant farmers everywhere. The humble Mexican farmers who transformed teosinte into corn knew nothing of chromosomes and genes, but could recognize a better version of corn when they saw it. And in doing so, they shaped our modern world in ways we can scarcely imagine. Think of them briefly the next time someone mentions ethynol or you eat something sweetened with corn syrup.
- SD
Nice butt you have there! (And by that I mean your shoulder.)
Parts of the pig can be a bit confusing. We all know where the hams come from. But once your remove the hams, where is that big piece of meat known as the "butt?" And why would we care?
The answer to the second question is the easiest. Pork butt (or whatever you call it) is the most succulent part of the pig. Oh, hams are marvelous and I'd feel deprived without bacon and ribs. But for sheer indulgence, give me a good pork roast. And by "good," I mean a pork roast that has enough fat to keep the roast tender and moist. And by "tender and moist," I mean a pork roast that is succulent, juicy, and almost falls apart under the knife. And where do you find such a roast? You find it in that rather complex hunk of meat known to as the "butt."
[In a fit of pique a few years ago, I actually wrote a letter of complaint to the Pork Board (a national marketing association for pork) complaining that the succulent roasts of my youth had disappeared. I blamed an industry effort to pretend that pork was chicken. To my surprise, a representative wrote back admitting they had gone too far, that pork had gotten too lean. He recommended that I shop for locally raised pork.]
So where is that pesky butt? Strangely enough, the butt is the pig's shoulder. And that's the other name widely used for this splendid cut of meat. We're not quite sure why the front end of a pig became known as a butt. It may refer to practice in Colonial America of packing preserved pork shoulder in barrels for shipment; barrels often referred to as "butts." But this is mere surmise and the use of the word "butt" for this part of the pig may be one of those small, historical facts that are lost while the words linger on. It is rather amazing how often words outlast the things that originally gave them meaning.
Language aside, do yourself a favor. Buy a nice big pork roast at the Market. Call it a butt or call it a shoulder, but get one. There are thousands of ways to prepare it, from a simple roast with mere salt and pepper to a spicy one slathered in paprika from the Republic of Georgia (which I highly recommend). However you prepare it, I wish you succulent eating!
- SD
Edible Flowers
There are many edible flowers that you can use to grace a salad or plate. Most are prized for their beauty and some have a distinctive taste. We always get at least a few edible flowers at the Market. Here are three that you might see this spring or summer.
Johnny-Jump-Ups (Violas): These are lovely early blooms with a mild wintergreen taste. It is an early spring flower and we've had them at the Market already. They are lovely additions to a salad and compliment many drinks, cold soups, and desserts.
Nasturiums: These lovely blossoms have a nice peppery taste similar to watercress. They can be used whole and are especially nice in salads or as garnishes.
Borage: These are lovely, corn-flower blue, star-shaped flowers with a mild cucumber taste. They are wonderful gracing lemonade, gin and tonics, sorbets, cold soups, and dips. These are often candied, producing beautiful blue, sweet garnishes.
- SD
Basil ... Basil ... Basil!
OK, I'll stop channeling Sybil Fawlty right now. (You fans of British TV will understand.) But I would like to announce that the Market is offering basil seedlings in several distinct varieties and will shortly be offering fresh basil leaves in these varieties for cooking. So here is some guidance in the selection and use of the most common basils.
Sweet Basil (Ocimum basilicum): This is your standard garden and cooking basil. Its fabulous flavor is essential to summer-time pesto and is used in virtually every cuisine. Most of you know it well. So let's skip on to the others.
Cinnamon Basil (O. basilicum 'Cinnamon'): The name pretty much says it all. This basil is like Sweet Basil, except with purple stems and a noticable taste of cinnamon. The cinnamon flavor comes from the very same chemical that makes cinnamon bark cinnamony. While it has this slightly spicy taste, it can be used for almost anything that sweet basil is used for. (An eight-year-old friend of ours begs her mother to let her eat the leaves of cinnamon basil straight from the plant.) So give it a whirl! But don't cook it. Its special spicy taste is lost if it is heated too much. So try sprinkling shredded cinnamon basil on your dishes after cooking.
Lemon Basil (O. americanum): Here too, those who named this plant stuck to the descriptive. It is like sweet basil, but is a different species and is considered a cross between Sweet Basil and African Basil. It is very lemony and noticably sweeter. It is great with seafoods, pastas, and other dishes where some tartness is desired. Like Cinnamon Basil, it should be used raw or nearly raw to preserve its distinctive taste. Try flavoring butter with this delicious herb and then brushing the butter on grilled or broiled fish or meats. Or just sprinkle it on raw.
Thai, Purple, and Anise Basils (all varieties of O. basilicum): These varieties are all somewhat muted versions of Sweet Basil, often with a slight anise or licorish taste. If you like your basil less assertive, try one of these.
Holy or Sacred Basil (O. sanctum): Now this is a different species altogether and comes from India. It is very pungent and smells somewhat of camphor. While it finds some occasional use in cooking, it is generally used for medicinal or religious purposes. A devout Hindu household will often have a small protected planting at the back of the house called the "basil fort" which is carefully tended to preserve the overall welfare of the home.
- SD
To and Fro
Instead of our usual written article, here is a little photo collection featuring our customers, coming and going, with a variety of conveyances. Just click on the link below.
- SD
A Classic French Soup (with Green Garlic)
Briefly in the spring, the Market has green garlic. These look like scallions (green onions) and you can use them in much the same way. But the leaves, stem, and bulb offer a delicate, gentle hint of garlic.
Here is a classic French Soup in which green garlic is especially nice.
1 pound green garlic (about 8 to 10 plants)
1/2 pound new potatoes
2 medium onions
1/4 pound butter
2 quarts chicken or vegetable stock
salt & pepper
(cream to taste, Julia Child would suggest 4 to 6 tablespoons)
Slice the green garlic, using both stems and leaves if tender. Peel and dice the onions. Melt the butter in a saucepan and saute the onions until soft. Add the green garlic and potatoes. Cook together for five minutes or so. Then add the stock, bring to a boil, and simmer until the potatoes are tender. Add salt and pepper to taste. You can then serve this as it is ("rustic") or puree it with a blender until it is smooth. In either case, you can add cream to make a richer soup. I put in even more than Julia suggests. But that's just me.
There are countless variations on soups like this one. Instead of green garlic, feel free to substitute any other vegetable that appeals to you. Just make sure that it will be soft and suitably cooked by the end. The potatoes, onions, butter and stock create the basic soup. You can then vary this by whim or by seasoned judgment. In either case, it's likely to be delicious.
With thanks to GourmetSleuth.com, Julia Child (The Art of French Cooking), and my wife.
- SD
In the Season (opening 2008)
For me, these odd-looking morel mushrooms are the very definition of spring. Morels are picky. They appear, if they appear at all, in late April - and then just for a week or so. They are suddenly here and suddenly gone. I'm lucky to find a few. But when I do, we celebrate the season in a pretty simple way: we fry them in butter and eat them with asparagus. It's a tiny, insignificant ritual. But this simple meal, repeated through the years, both reminds us of springs past and welcomes in a new one.
The wonders of modern shipping are slowly stealing away these moments. Strawberries in January and lettuce the year-round make our lives better. And I'd be heartbroken if the splendid cheeses of Italy and the coconut milk of Vietnam were not shipped to my local stores. But I'd like to raise a toast to all of you who, in some small way, enjoy the quiet drama of eating in the season. Early peas, late hard squashes, tender corn in between. The quiet sweep of the year is played out in your farmers' market. Let it show in your menus, in your snacks, on your table. We'll make it easy by offering up the season's bounty, in its season.
- SD
Fall and Farewell (2007)
The squadrons of geese and the falling leaves
tell us that winter is coming soon, even if today's weather is still
dithering. Tomorrow will be our last Farmers'
Market until spring returns. We'd like to thank you for the support
you have shown the Market and its vendors this
year. We hope you have eaten well and had fun.
Hopefully, we'll all meet again when the Market resumes in early May. We'll send you a newsletter to let you know when the Market will resume. Until then, we'd be grateful to hear any suggestions that might help us improve the Market. The Market volunteers will meet in mid-winter to begin planning for next year and we promise to give all your suggestions careful consideration.
I doubt that you will be surprised, but the few organizing volunteers that bring you the Market work too hard. We would love a little help. If you have an hour to spare late on Thursday afternoons and can help us close down the Market, if you'd like to help us promote local musicians and book them at the Market, if you have a way with kids or a talent for special activities, or if you have some other interest or talent that would benefit the Market, we'd love to have your help next year. It's rewarding work and brings many people much pleasure.
So farewell until spring. And thank you.
- SD
Carrots: Leaf to Root
My parents
were rather crafty. They left a huge box of thick, blunt,
still somewhat earthy carrots in my childhood closet, which had the
dubious virtue of being very cold. They had clearly bought or
been given this wealth of produce and were trying to preserve it as
best they could. Because I could never leave anything alone,
much less something left in my closet, I ate one. Then
another. Pretty soon, I was pressing them on my
brothers. Through mere proximity, I discovered that I loved
carrots - or at least the fat sweet ones that lurked in my dark closet.
This personal discovery came rather late in the long history of the carrot. The rather bitter wild carrot is still with us and its origin appears to lie in Afghanistan (where there are still many forms of this ancient plant). Carrot seeds have been found in the prehistoric lake villages of Switzerland, so the plant was clearly introduced to Europe very, very long ago. But it appears that this first carrot wasn't used for its roots, but rather for its foliage and seeds, which have a pleasant smell. Greece and Rome came and went without any interest in carrot roots. Carrots were mentioned, but only as herbs. Sometime between the Eighth and Tenth Centuries A.D., Arab traders reintroduced the carrot to Europe, but this time the variety of carrot being offered had a large, dark, purplish-red root (again, the likely product of Afghani cultivation). And it was sweet! In the European Middle Ages, sweeteners were scarce and expensive. So the carrot was welcomed into European kitchens and gardens all over again and, this time, was used in cakes and desserts. Carrots were put to the same purpose (and for the same reason) in Britain during the privations of WWII. And we still consider carrot cake a treat (although ours is rather lush and sweet in comparison to the originals).
The carrot is still used for its sweetness, although now mostly in savory vegetable dishes. But be warned. For while carrots are a remarkably healthy and delicious food, eating a wildly excessive number of carrots in a dark closet will turn you orange ("carotenodermia"). Yes, it will.
- SD
Corn Chowder
Some of you may say that I have a fixation on
corn. This is,
after all, the third article on corn this year. But October
is the end of the season for sweet corn. The quality of
late-season sweet corn is usually very high because cool nights help
the ripening corn stay sweet. But fall corn is a fleeting
pleasure and will soon be gone. So in celebration of all
transient things, and especially the sweet ones, here is a splendid way
to enjoy this last flourish of summer [with thanks to Fine Cooking
(Sept., 2007) and its contributing editor Tony Rosenfeld].
Ingredients:
Sweet corn kernels, sliced from about 5 ears
Scallions (green onions), 10 to 20 sliced (whites and greens
separated)(see Notes below)
Bacon, 3 slices (or more to taste)
Butter, 1 Tbs or so for frying
Jalapeño pepper, one green, seeded and finely diced
Salt, approx. 1 tsp.
Black pepper
Chicken broth, 3-1/2 to 4 cups
Potato, one (a boiling potato is best) diced into about ½"
cubes
Fresh thyme, ~1-1/2 tsp.
Heavy cream, 2 Tbs. or to taste (I use much more).
Procedure:
Chop up the bacon and fry until crisp. Remove it and put it
aside. Pour off all but about a tablespoon of the bacon fat
and add the butter to the pan. Toss in the diced white
portion of the scallions, the diced jalapeño, the salt, and
some black pepper and sauté them all for about 3 minutes or
until the scallions are very soft.
Add the broth, corn kernels, potatoes, and thyme. Bring the soup to a boil, then turn down the heat to medium low and simmer it until the potatoes are tender (about 15 minutes). (At this point, if you want a thick soup, you can blender up one cup of this soup and return the resulting puree to the soup. But I skip this step myself and still find the soup enchanting.) Add the cream and toss in most of the sliced green portion of the scallions. Simmer the soup a few minutes more to wilt the scallions and blend the flavors. Season with salt and pepper, and serve sprinkled with the reserved bacon bits and the last of the green sliced scallions.
Notes: My wife adds a few diced scallions as a garnish at the end, but uses regular onions instead of the large number of scallions called for above. And, you know what -- it is delicious. So use what comes to hand. And even rather old corn still tastes good here. So when the fresh, local corn is gone and the Market is but a memory, you can ease your disappointment with this recipe.
- SD
Winter Squash
In many forms and species
All squashes, summer and winter, belong in one closely related group: the genus Cucurbita. We think of their "fruits" as a vegetable, but botanists consider them a special type of berry. The division of these into "winter" and "summer" squashes is really little more than an indication of when we eat each variety. Summer squashes are those we eat when the fruit is still young and thin-skinned. Winter squashes are those we allow to mature and harden into a form that permits long storage. There are many varieties of winter squash, but here are a few:
Butternut:
This is
the pear-shaped creamy colored winter squash that
most of us associate with Thanksgiving. Its species name is Cucurbita
moschata. It is quite thin skinned and easy to peel (a rare thing in a
winter squash). Its nutty flavor and small, convenient size make it
very popular.
Acorn:
This is the ridged, dark,
acorn-shaped winter squash with bright orange flesh. It is a
completely different species, C. pepo. It is tasty and just the right
size for two, but quite hard, so use care when cutting it open.
Delicata:
This squash is also a C. pepo, but produces long, pale oval
fruits with green stripes running the length of the fruit. It
is becoming quite popular because of its creamy, very tasty flesh with
a hint of sweet potato. They are easy to cut.
Spaghetti: This
doesn't look anything like an acorn squash, but is in
the same species, C. pepo. More curiously, it cooks up into long
spaghetti-like strands (though they are more vegetal in texture than
starchy spaghetti). People dress them with sauces for a low-calorie
"spaghetti" or just enjoy their odd texture with butter and salt.
Hubbard:
Now we have hit the serious winter squash. These babies are
usually huge, ugly, hard to hack up, and worth all the trouble. They
are delicious. They are also a curious blue, or a brilliant knobby
orange. And they keep a very long time. Of course, one is far too much
for one family and you might consider using a hatchet, axe, or saw to
break one up. But when cooked, there is, to my mind, no better or
bigger squash flavor. Yum!
Pumpkins: Oddly, pumpkins come from several different species. The little pie pumpkins are usually C. moschata - the same species as the Butternut squash. But there are some varieties of mid-sized pumpkins (and some really tiny ones) that are C. pepo - the same species as Acorn and Delicata squashes. And the monster pumpkins are the same species as Hubbards: C. maxima. The rule seems to be that if they are orange and smooth, they are "pumpkins." Not surprisingly, recipes for pumpkin can be made with other winter squashes without anyone being the wiser. Still, it is a joy to cook up a few cheerfully orange pie pumpkins for your Thanksgiving pies. Your reward will be pies with a delightfully light and fluffy filling, a nice change from the heavier filling you get from canned pumpkin.
- SD
What's in a Name? For eggplants, a lot.
Have
you ever
wondered why we call them "eggplants?" After
all, most eggplants look like big purple truncheons. Or at least some
of them do. The eggplant has an amazing array of forms and nearly as
many names. We have the British "aubergine," a name derived quite
directly from ancient Sanskrit (a language of ancient India). And this
is only fitting, as the eggplant probably arose there. But in modern
India, they are called "brinjal" which arose from an ancient Arab name.
In Italy, they are "melanzana," a corruption of the Latin "mala insana"
(or apple of insanity). And in the Caribbean, they are called "brown
jollies." OK, I don't get that one. But perhaps it is a corruption of
the Indian "brinjal."
But this range of names is
easily exceeded by its range of
shapes, sizes, and colors. There are huge teardrop-shaped eggplants in
pure white or deep purple. There are long, thin, snake-like eggplants
from the orient. There are tiny green pea-sized eggplants, favored in
Thai curries (when they can be found). There are ping-pong ball sized,
white and green globes (available from our local oriental markets and
some gardens) that are used in curries from many Asian countries. And
round, red ones from Spain that resemble tomatoes. There are even a few
varieties, in white or purple, that are the size and shape of eggs.
As so often is true in
history, our name for the thing is the
long-preserved result of an accident: the first eggplants to reach
Europe just happened to be of this egg-like variety. Had things turned
out differently, we might be hitting each other over the head with them
and calling them "clubplants" or something equally silly.
With thanks to The Oxford Companion to Food, Alan Davidson
- SD
Collards and Kale, The Big Greens
These guys are really, really big. And a little intimidating. But they are easily cooked into submission and will reward you with vitamins galore and a robust vegetable taste that nicely balances big meat dishes. These flavors are an important part of Southern cooking.
To prepare them, wash them (several times for kale, which may otherwise harbor sand in its crinkly leaves). The water left on the leaves after washing is enough water for cooking them. So just stuff them into a big sauce pan with some salt. Cover them and let them wilt over medium heat until tender. Collards will take about 15-20 minutes, kale about 15-25 minutes. Drain them, chop them if you like, dress them with melted butter and vinegar or lemon juice. You can garnish them with crisp, crumbled bacon if you like.
A traditional southern recipe calls for adding some ham bits to the pot as you cook them, then dressing them with diced scallions, lemon juice, and a pinch of nutmeg. But you get the idea. Experiment away!
-Thanks to James Beard's
American Cookery
- SD
Corn off the Cob
Now perhaps I'm a little self-indulgent. I certainly do enjoy gnawing the kernels off a steaming ear of corn. But even better, in my opinion, is that same fresh, sweet corn served up by the heaping spoonful. So to help you indulge yourself, here are two quick ways to serve fresh corn off-the-cob. (I promise an article on corn chowder soon.)
Getting
it off
the cob:
All you need is a sharp knife and a
little care. Shuck the ears and remove the silk.
You can then use that sharp knife to cut away the kernels.
You will be able to feel when you are cutting close to the
cob. If you have trouble holding the ear of corn as you cut,
try breaking the cobs in half first. Then just stand up the
broken cob on a cutting board, broken end down. You can then
cut off the kernels by cutting along the cob down towards the cutting
board, which will help steady the cob and will keep your fingers out of
the way.
Sautéed
corn:
This couldn't be easier and is the pure essence of sweet
corn. Melt some butter in a frying pan over fairly high
heat. Toss in the corn. Salt and pepper to
taste. Sauté briefly. I like mine
slightly undercooked with a slight crunch. You may prefer it
cooked a little longer. Just taste as you go. This
will only take minutes.
Creamed corn:
Same as above, but after cooking the corn for a minute or two add some
heavy cream. I add a lot, but then, you know I'm
self-indulgent. Turn the heat up high and boil that cream
until it thickens some. This too will only take a few
minutes. (You can add even more corny goodness to creamed
corn by supplementing the cut corn with all the little soft bits you
can scrape off the cob. Just scrape the cobs with the edge of
your knife and add the resulting paste to your corn before cooking.)
Now that's summer on a spoon!
- SD
Fresh and
Frozen Fish:
What is the story?
A friend of mine was visiting
the famous Pike Street Market in Seattle
a few years ago. He noticed that the frozen salmon fillets
were often more expensive than the "fresh" fillets. So he
asked. The vendor replied, "My frozen salmon is fresher than
my fresh salmon."
While nothing beats eating fish within minutes or hours of its capture, very few of us will ever enjoy that particular freshness. Let me state the obvious. We live near Pittsburgh. The "fresh" fish that we see in our groceries is more accurately described as "chilled" fish and may have been caught and killed a week ago. And while it has been kept cool, it cannot compare with fish that has been flash frozen on the boat within a few minutes or hours of its capture. Properly handled, such fish is quickly cleaned, sealed in heavy plastic with very little air, and flash frozen at 50 degrees or more below zero. And this does a terrific job of preserving the quality of the fish. If you have any doubts, consider this: the tuna that you last enjoyed in sushi - that bright, little jewel of fish - was almost certainly flash frozen on the boat. That's right. It was frozen into a giant log of tuna that was so cold it would blister your bare finger. It's lovely flavor and delicate texture resulted from the genuine freshness that is conferred by prompt and proper freezing.
I am delighted to say that our fish vendor (Wild Alaskan Salmon) offers fish that has been cleaned and flash frozen on the boat before it ever reaches land. It is as fresh as we can get. So bring a cooler and enjoy the freshness that only freezing can bring.
[A note on defrosting: to preserve the high quality of flash frozen fish, thaw it slowly in the refrigerator. Just shift it from the freezer to the refrigerator on the morning of the day you want to use it.]
- SD
The "One
Rotten Apple" Mystery
(Who done it? - Why its that sneaky
ethylene!)
"One rotten apple will spoil the barrel." This
little saying is the voice of experience. The wisdom of the ages, in
fact. One rotting apple will quickly ripen and then rot all
its neighbors. But no one knew why. Oddly, the first step in
solving this mystery had to wait until Victorians switched from
lighting rooms with tabletop whale oil lamps to lighting their homes
with wall or ceiling mounted gas lamps, burning a form of gas extracted
from coal and supplied by underground pipes.
This change was important because it brought a formerly rare form of gas into common use throughout "modern" cities. By the mid-eighteen hundreds, sharp-eyed gardeners noticed that leaks in these gas pipes would cause plant damage, typically stunted growth with thick, twisted stems. By 1901, a simple hydrocarbon gas, ethylene (C2H4), was identified as the culprit. Still, no one knew why ethylene had this effect. It wasn't until the mid-1930's that scientists discovered why: plants use ethylene as a hormone! They all produce it, in quantities great or small, to regulate many events in their growth, including ripening.
But like all hormones, a
plant needs just the right amount at just the
right time. Too much exposure during growth produces the
unhappy symptoms observed by our great-great-grandparents.
And too much ethylene during ripening (such as that produced by a
rotting apple in the confined space of a barrel) can have disastrous
effects on nearby fruits and vegetables. Storing
apples and baking potatoes together in a poorly ventilated space will
result in liquid potatoes. Carrots stored in too much
ethylene become bitter. Green beans get soft and spotty. And
broccoli turns yellow. So it is important to store the major
ethylene producers away from the many other fruits and vegetables that
are especially sensitive. Because the list of sensitive
plants is very long, it is easier to remember the plants from our
Market that produce large amounts of this tasteless, odorless gas:
apples, pears, plums, peaches,
nectarines, melons, and tomatoes.
Don't toss these into your vegetable bin along with other fruits or vegetables. And you can slow the ripening of these fruits by providing good ventilation. Store them in a single layer, open to the air, so the ethylene will be wafted away. They will last much longer if you don't pile them up together in a closed container or bag.
Handled with care and attention, you can use this natural process to speed up the ripening of many fruits. Putting a very ripe apple in a bag with some hard pears will speed their ripening considerably. Commercial fruit processors now regularly use ethylene gas to quickly bring fruit harvested green into marketable ripeness. But use care! Inattention can spoil the whole barrel!
(A much more complete list of ethylene producers and ethylene sensitive fruits and vegetables can be found on page 4 of the .pdf file found here.)
- SD
The Beet
(and the Manglewurzel)
And two tasty salads
In ancient times, people occasionally ate the thin little root of the wild sea beet, which grew along Europe's Atlantic and Mediterranean coasts. In Germany, this sad little plant was coaxed into growing a somewhat longer, although still skinny root, yellow in color, that was fit for animal feed. It's German name, "mangoldwurzel" was soon corrupted by popular wit into "manglewurzel," (or "root to eat if you are starving"). The beet didn't start to swell into a round shape until the 1500's and didn't become red until the 1600's. It's been improved a lot since then and is today an under appreciated jewel.
One of the best ways to fix beets is to roast them whole. Wash them, trim off the leaves leaving an inch or so (so all that nice red juice doesn't leak out), wrap them in foil, and roast them in 350-400 degree oven for about 45 minutes (or until they are tender). You can also put a lot of small beets in a roasting pan with a little water and put foil over that. But in any event, once roasted, the skins just slip off and all that beautiful red juice is still in the beet. Let them cool, slip off the skins, slice them (or cut them into wedges or cubes), and you will have a sweet, bright, and beautiful vegetable that can be used in many, many ways. It's summer, so I'll describe two very different beet salads.
Roasted Beet,
Walnut, and
Goat Cheese Salad:
Roast, peel, and
cut up your beets. Put some vinegar (or lemon juice) in a
bowl (enough to lightly coat the beets) and whisk in a little salt,
pepper, and sugar. Splash that over the beets and let them
sit for a while (5 minutes to several hours). Toast a handful
of walnuts in a skillet (or that hot oven) for a few minutes.
Crumble some goat cheese (or a nice blue cheese). Wash some
lettuce, spinach, or other pretty green. When ready to serve,
arrange some beets on the greens and sprinkle with the walnuts and
cheese. Be as arty as you like in the arrangement.
The green leaves, red beets, white cheese, and browned walnuts can be
very dramatic. Drizzle with some of the leftover vinegar or
your favorite vinaigrette.
Roasted Beet,
Sour Cream,
and Horseradish Salad:
Roast, peel,
and cut up your beets. Dress them and some diced onions (or
shallots) with some vinegar, lemon juice, or your favorite vinaigrette;
add some salt and pepper; and let them sit a bit. In the
meantime, mix some sour cream with grated horseradish (roughly 1 Tbsp
of horseradish per cup of sour cream - or to taste). When
ready to serve, pour off any surplus vinegar/lemon juice/vinaigrette
from the beets and onions and mix the now slightly pickled
beets and onions with the sour cream mixture. The resulting
creamy salad is a startling pink and tastes delicious.
- SD
The Ways of Cheese: Fresh Cheeses
"Cheese is one of the great achievements of mankind... created anew every day in the dairies of the world." Harold McGee, On Food and Cooking, the Science and Lore of the Kitchen (2004).
If cheese is milk's leap towards immortality (as
was suggested by radio host Clifton Fadiman) then fresh cheeses are its
baby steps. These are cheeses in which the milk has been
curdled and the whey drained off, but little else has
occurred. They are typically soft, white, and very
mild. Cream cheese, cottage cheese, the French formage blanc
(available at the Market), the German quark, the Italian mascarpone and
ricotta, the Spanish queso fresco, and the Indian paneer are all
examples. Some are a bit firmer (like paneer or American
farmers' cheese) because they have been handled more and most of the
liquid whey has been squeezed out. Others are handled very
delicately and so retain more whey and remain very soft (like formage
blanc). Some, such as cottage cheese, start with plain
low-fat milk and are cooked slightly after the curds have
formed. Others, such as cream cheese start with very rich
cream and are not cooked. Some start with cultured milk, some
with plain. Most are curdled with rennet (a product
originally obtained from calves' stomachs) but some, like ricotta, are
heated to high temperatures and are curdled by the addition of acid to
the hot milk. But however they are made, they are delicate
and short-lived. Enjoy them while they are young.
Your pleasure is their only hope for immortality.
For more details, see The Cook's Thesaurus at http://www.foodsubs.com/Chefresh.html.
- SD
The Humble Kohlrabi
What is that?
Yes, it does look like a squashed tennis ball with long leathery leaves. And yes, they are sometimes purple. I associate them with my still very German great-grandmother, the fearsome Ururgrossmutter Dettinger. (Their silly name means "cabbage turnip" in German.) And while my great-grandmother was a scary woman, the kohlrabi isn't really a scary veg. It is merely a close relative of the cabbage with a very short and very fat stem. The small young specimens that are now available in the Market have a sweet cabbage and turnip-like taste when peeled and eaten raw (which is how I like them). They make a crunchy snack with a nice sweetness. They also make great slaw and crunchy additions to salads. But you can also cook them like boiled potatoes (boil them until tender, peel them, and serve with butter and salt). But whatever you do, don't be afraid of them. Save that for your scary great-grandmother.
- SD
The Three Fennels:
Feathery and Fine
The
original wild fennel was recognized as a
useful herb throughout ancient Europe and Asia and its chopped stems
were widely used in ancient Roman cooking. It is a relative
of celery and has lovely tall, feathery foliage and attractive bright
yellow blossoms. But its seeds are bitter and are now
commonly used only in certain central and eastern European dishes
(where the seeds of sweet fennel would not produce the right effect at
all).
The first known mention of Sweet Fennel occurs in an edict by
Charlemagne in 9th Century France. But it became very popular
and was promptly carried by Arab traders to India and China.
These seeds have a sweet anise flavor, as do the leaves, and are used
today worldwide. The stems are also used as a vegetable,
especially near Naples, Italy. The flavors of sweet fennel
are especially good with fish. But you will also see sweet
fennel seeds in Italian sausages and a variety of other dishes. Despite
its different taste, Sweet Fennel is probably not a separate species,
just a variety favored by man. Occasionally, when a sweet
fennel plant gets very old, it starts producing bitter seeds, just like
its wild ancestors.
And then there is Florence Fennel, yet another variety of the old, wild fennel. But this one has been cultivated for its qualities as a vegetable. In this form, the stem is greatly compressed with the overlapping leaf stalks forming what looks like a bulb. Sliced and used fresh, this bulb is crunchy and sweet and makes a nice fall salad with apples, cheese, and an oil and vinegar dressing. It can also be braised, fried, or steamed. But no matter how it is cooked or served, it offers up a delicate flavor of anise.
- SD
Green Garlic
Another herald of Spring
Have you tried green garlic? I hadn't until a few weeks ago. But it certainly deserves attention and is now available at the Market. It is the same plant that grows the familiar garlic bulbs, but is harvested when young, before the bulbs have grown. It looks like a large scallion (green onion) and has a delicate garlic taste that is present in both the stalk and leaves. And green garlic can be used much like scallions. Slice them raw for crunch in salads, sandwiches, and on top of cooked dishes. Or sauté them as an ingredient in a cooked dish (they will become very sweet and impart a subtle garlic flavor). I tried them for the first time this year and found them delicious.
- SD
Know your smoked salmon
The two major types
Smoked
salmon comes in two major varieties: hot-smoked and cold-smoked.
Not surprisingly, hot smoked salmon is placed close to a smoky fire,
slowly cooking the salmon as it is bathed in the smoke. The result is a
deep-red color, a firm and flaky texture, and a distinctly smoky taste.
This is the most familiar form of smoked salmon and is the type that
you should use if you want to include smoked salmon in a dish that will
be cooked further, such as an omelet.
An equally delicious, but
very different product
results from smoking
the salmon at a distance from the fire, so the meat can be kept at room
temperature during the smoking process. This produces the very soft,
moist and silky meat known as "lox." Because cold-smoking does not cook
the salmon, the fish is first cured for several days in a salt brine
and only then is smoked. In some cases, such as Norwegian gravlox,
sugar, herbs, and spices (and sometimes vodka) are added to this brine
to give a particular flavor to the salmon. Lox is thinly sliced and
best served just as it is, with sour-cream and crackers, bread, or a
bagel. Dill, capers, lemon, onion, cucumber or delicate pickles are
also great with lox.
Our salmon vendor, Wild Alaskan Salmon, offers both varieties.
- SD
Rhubarb:
Some Curious Facts
Although rhubarb is biologically a vegetable, in 1947 a US Customs court in Buffalo ruled that rhubarb was a "fruit," at least for the purposes of the law. We do eat it like one.
Rhubarb is leafy member of the buckwheat family and is native to the coldest parts of Asia: Siberia, Mongolia, and the Himalayas. Although the ancient Greeks and Romans used the roots of a related species as a medicine, rhubarb was not quickly accepted as food. Perhaps because its leaves contain toxic amounts of oxalic acid, rhubarb didn't appear in English cookbooks until the early 1800's. But it's rosy stems soon thereafter became a favorite English dessert and a harbinger of Spring for us all.
- SD