Yearly Archives: 2010

The Garden, The Recipes

Oh What A Week–In the Garden, and the Kitchen, Too

4 Comments

Maybe it’s a cheap shot to blame it on the stars, but when I heard there was a rare planetary alignment going on this week, I felt relieved. Apparently this is the kind of event that makes everyone feel a little crazy, a tad more pressed and stressed. Now we had our excuse for running around like chickens with our heads cut off all week.

We were dog sitting and house sitting. Still working madly on building structures in the garden, still harvesting greens and herbs for the farm stand every morning (photos above), still watering, weeding, and bug-picking. Amen. Roy was working on three different jobs, and I was developing recipes and taking pictures for a new book proposal.

Yesterday I spent a couple hours on my belly crawling around a hoop house clearing out nasty weeds. (This was pretty fun, actually. At least hot air rises, so it was cooler on the floor.) This morning we got up early to go rake up some hay from a friend’s field, still needing more for our garden pathways and for mulch.  (And this, I have to tell you, wasn’t just fun but incredibly calming. When the planets are conspiring to drive you crazy, grab a pitchfork and head for a golden rolling field dotted with apple trees and pines, cows grazing in the distance. All will be right with the world.)

So no complaining. Absolutely not. It’s all good stuff, and productive, too. Here’s a look at what emerged from our crazy week. And for this we thank our lucky stars.

Over in the kitchen of the lovely house we were camping out in, I spent some time salvaging tiny bok choy and kale leaves from thinnings I’d plucked in the garden (above left). Once I got the roots off  and washed them well, I had just enough leaves for a side dish— the fastest and simplest of sautés with slivered garlic. One morning I roasted and sauteéd a bunch of summer vegetables (yeah, a little ahead of the season) for a main-dish salad I’m developing. My doggy friend Wally (right) got pretty interested when I put the dish on the floor to photograph.

Back in the garden, Roy built a trellis for our pole beans (left) and a cool support structure for our tomatoes (center), both from bamboo that we had also gone on safari to retrieve. (Well, not really, but it felt like that. If you’ve ever been in a forest of bamboo–and tried to cut some down without a power tool, you’ll know what I mean. We got out the power tool.)  We also prepared the squash and eggplant beds and planted both. We  weeded the new lettuce bed and laid down a thicker layer of hay than we’d originally thought was necessary. Darn weeds.

Meanwhile, I lopped off several heads of Tat soi (left) and dinner-plate sized lettuces (right) every day for the farm stand. The next crop of baby lettuces and more arugula are not far behind, planted a few weeks ago. (It may be getting too hot for arugula now, though. It’s pretty spicy.)

Lots of other veggies are making progress, and I’m most excited about the peas which have started to emerge from a flourish of little white flowers. It’s hard for me not to eat the shoots and flowers right now, but I know I need to leave them alone to produce more actual peas.

I’m also ridiculously excited about the carrot bed, which I have been weeding and thinning meticulously. (And photographing–those boots of mine wind up in more garden shots than I can count!). We’re growing three kinds of carrots including Little Finger and Scarlet Nantes. We planted Sunburst Hybrid summer squash (the little Patty Pan shape) and Wee-B-Little pumpkins, among other squashes (middle). And under the row cover, more chard and bok choy are on the way.

Tonight we’re going to transplant the Brussels sprouts. Did I mention I love vegetables?

fruit desserts, The Recipes

Desperately Seeking Strawberries for Susie (and Ice Cream)

5 Comments

One of my favorite parts about the CSA I belonged to last year was the weekly strawberry picking in June. This year, with my own market garden, I knew I couldn’t join the CSA, but I was resting easy thinking the strawberry patch would be open to the public like it was last year.

Never assume anything.

Naturally, due to weather conditions causing blossom drop, the strawberry crop wasn’t large enough to share with non-CSAers. Big bummer, as there aren’t any other pick-your-own strawberry patches on Martha’s Vineyard.  Years ago I lived on Aquidneck Island (home to Newport, Rhode Island) and every June we’d head over to Quonset View Farms, high up in the middle of the island where the cold fog off the ocean just kisses the plants and fades away in time for daily sun baths. The soil must be pretty special there, too, as I swear I’ve never tasted strawberries so sweet and juicy. At Quonset View, it was hard to get out of the field without eating most of your berries.

Ever since then, I haven’t really been able to eat much in the way of commercial strawberries, which tend to be hard and white in the middle and short on flavor. I wait 11 months for the real deal. It’s kind of torturous, but pretty blissful when the local berries ripen. I try to pick enough to freeze some for later months, too, but they never last very long.

My longing was made even worse this year by the fact that Rebecca has been selling strawberry plants at the farm stand where my garden is. Every day that I pass by these beauties, another berry ripens on one of the plants, red and juicy and drooping seductively on its green stem, just begging to be eaten.

I finally broke down and bought a couple of the plants (and plunked them in the garden), mostly because my 7-year-old gardening (and cooking) companion Libby insisted. I tried to explain that strawberries are perennial and also that just a couple plants wouldn’t yield much, but she wouldn’t hear of it. So we have been ritually sharing each single berry on these two plants as they ripen.

I also finally got myself in the car and went down-Island to visit two farms that I thought might be selling their strawberries. It wouldn’t be quite the same as picking my own, but time was running out. I struck gold at both Norton Farm and Morning Glory Farm, and I finally had enough strawberries to do what I’ve been waiting a year for—to make ice cream.

Last year, the June-July issue of Fine Cooking magazine arrived just before strawberry-picking time, and it had in it the most amazing article on creating your own custom-flavored ice cream.  The recipe came from pastry wizard David Lebovitz, and the step by step “create your own” approach is a regular Fine Cooking feature. I thought the format was a brilliant choice for an ice cream recipe, because it allows you to flavor your custard with whatever infusions, add-ins, and/or mix-ins you like to make practically anything—from Hazelnut Chocolate Chunk and Double Ginger to Irish Coffee or Rocky Road.

For my first go-round, I knew I wanted something fruity. I have strong memories of home made fresh Delaware white peach ice cream. My father used to make it in a big old fashioned ice-cream maker on the front porch of our beach cottage in August when I was a little girl. Profoundly comforting. I knew peaches weren’t in season yet (and sadly, not nearly so good up here), but that strawberry patch was beckoning. So to test out the recipe, I chose pureed strawberries and vanilla extract for my flavor add-ins.

Wow. The ice cream was to die-for, rich and silky from the egg yolks and cream, and packed with true strawberry flavor. I fell in love with it. And I’ve waited a whole year to make it again.

Late last week, I got out my little hand-cranked Donvier ice-cream freezer and made sure the cannister was chilling in the freezer. I made the strawberry puree on Thursday (photo at left), and the custard Friday morning. I chilled both and waited for my friend Libby to arrive. Friday night, after a chicken kabob barbeque (with a salad of all our own salad greens and radishes, of course), we sat down to play Sorry and to freeze the custard, each one of us taking a turn at the crank as we went around the game board. When it was about the texture of soft-serve, we couldn’t wait any longer and spooned it into sugar cones. For a moment there wasn’t a sound but for a little slurping and crunching. And then, from Libby, “When can we make more?”

Here’s the recipe, adapted and collapsed from the “make your own” format. If strawberry ice cream isn’t your thing, or you simply want to try other flavor combos,  visit the cool interactive feature on Fine Cooking’s website.

Strawberry-Vanilla Ice Cream

Adapted from Fine Cooking magazine article by David Lebovitz; for more ice cream recipes, visit finecooking.com.

1 pound ripe strawberries, washed and hulled

1 1/4 cups granulated sugar

2 cups heavy cream

5 large egg yolks

1 cup whole milk

table salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Make the strawberry puree: In a blender, puree the strawberries until completely smooth. Strain the berry puree through a fine-mesh sieve into a bowl or glass measure. (Press on the solids to be sure to extract all of the juice.) Stir in 1/2 cup of the granulated sugar. Refrigerate the puree until ready to use. (Can be done 24 hours ahead.)

Prepare an ice bath: Fill a large bowl with several inches of ice water (half ice, half water). Set a smaller metal bowl (such as a stainless steel mixing bowl, at least a 6-cup capacity), in the ice water. Pour 1 cup of the heavy cream into the inner bowl. (This will help the custard cool more quickly when you pour it in later). Set a fine-mesh strainer on top.

Make the custard: Whisk the egg yolks in a medium bowl and set aside. In a medium saucepan, mix the remaining 1 cup of the cream with the milk, the remaining ¾ cup sugar, and a pinch of salt. Heat the mixture over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally, until the sugar dissolves and tiny bubbles begin to form around the edge of the pan, 3 to 4 minutes. In a steady stream, pour half of the warm cream mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly to prevent the eggs from curdling. (This is called “tempering” – a good step when making any kind of custard. Be sure to pay close attention during this.)

Pour the egg mixture back into the saucepan and cook over low heat (or medium low if your stove is electric!), stirring constantly and scraping the bottom with a heatproof cooking spoon or spatula until the custard thickens slightly and measures 175°F to 180°F on an instant-read thermometer, anywhere from 4 to 10 minutes. (The custard will be a bit more viscous and thick enough to coat the back of a wooden spoon, holding a line drawn through it with a finger.) Don’t let the sauce overheat or boil or it will curdle.

Immediately strain the custard into the cold cream in the ice bath.

Cool the custard: Stir the custard frequently over the ice bath until an instant-read thermometer measures 70°F. Add the vanilla extract and stir. Add all of the strawberry puree and mix well. (This is one of the totally fun parts—watching the pink and cream swirls come together!).

Chill and freeze the custard: Chill the strawberry-vanilla custard mixture in the refrigerator for at least 4 hours (or overnight—in fact, it holds for two days.) Freeze the ice cream in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions.

Note: This recipe yields about 1 quart. My small ice cream maker only makes one pint at a time. If you’re in that boat, simply keep the remaining custard chilled and use it in the next day or two.


salads, The Recipes

Here at Lettuce Central, We Love Our Vinaigrette

As if it weren’t bad enough to live with 400 seedlings in our tiny apartment all winter, now we have a LPU (lettuce processing unit) in the kitchen. This is not an official piece of equipment, but rather a collection of big stainless steel bowls, salad spinners, dish towels, and assorted plastic bags, trays, and coolers that I use to wash, dry and pack the lettuce and greens we’re harvesting from the garden in order to sell them at the farm stand.

There comes a point every evening and every morning when pretty much every surface is covered with lettuce or greens of some sort. I don’t yet have my system worked out perfectly, so my partner, Roy, is finding this chaos all very amusing. Only yesterday did I realize he’d written “Lettuce Central” on our blackboard next to the kitchen door a few days ago. I’d been so distracted, I hadn’t even seen it.

It’s all pretty swell though, as I am totally enchanted with the lettuces and greens, and with our success in growing them, despite their wobbly start as spindly seedlings in the apartment. And the best perk is the killer salads we are having every night for dinner.

But you don’t have to grow your own lettuce to make a really good green salad—just keep things simple. Stick with mostly greens (forget the big hulking cherry tomatoes and chunks of raw bell pepper—they’re distracting), and try a combination of tender lettuces and a little bit less of something assertive (I love Bibb lettuce with a bit of arugula or mizuna). You can even toss in a few baby herb leaves or finely sliced fresh herbs like mint, parsley or basil for a tiny surprise hit of flavor.

Take the extra time to buy individual heads of lettuce and bunches of greens—they’re much fresher and tastier than bagged lettuce. Wash them well, and be sure to spin them dry as dressing won’t cling to wet leaves. Lastly, make your own tasty house vinaigrette. Bottled salad dressings are full of things you don’t want to be consuming. Plus they taste, well, bottled.

A vinaigrette in its simplest form is 3 parts oil to 1 part acid (vinegar, or a combination of vinegar and citrus juice). With a pinch of salt or a dab of mustard to emulsify the two, you can make a vinaigrette in seconds. Or add an extra flavor or two—fresh pepper, minced garlic, lemon zest, chopped herbs—and you’ve got a custom dressing with only a few more minutes of work. Make a decent-sized batch, and you’ll have homemade vinaigrette in the fridge for a couple weeks of dinner salads.

Here’s a recipe for our favorite house vinaigrette.

Lemon-Sherry Vinaigrette for Summer Salads

_______________________________

7 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

2 tablespoons sherry vinegar

½ teaspoon freshly grated lemon zest

½ teaspoon fresh lemon juice

½ teaspoon honey

½ teaspoon Dijon mustard

¼ teaspoon minced fresh garlic

several grinds of fresh pepper

½ to 1 teaspoon thinly sliced fresh mint (optional)

________________________________

Combine all the ingredients in a bowl or glass measure and whisk until emulsified. Or combine in a glass jar with a lid and shake the jar until the ingredients are emulsified. Store covered in the fridge for two weeks.

Yields about 2/3 cup

The Garden

Lettuce for Sale! Get your Greens! We’re in business!

2 Comments

There is so much happening over at the vegetable garden that I haven’t even had time to write about it. After two years of trotting around this Island from farm to farm, getting to know farmers and watching how hard they work, you’d a thought I would have anticipated this. But no, I thought doing a “part time” production garden would tuck right into my schedule. A little cooking, a little writing, a little gardening. Ha! (Many “Ha!s,” in fact.)

The really tricky part is finding time to market your product when transplanting, weeding, and watering are calling. All of a sudden I have lovely lettuce on my hands—Royal Oakleaf, Lollo di Vino, Red Sails, Tom Thumb Bibb, Salad Bowl, Butterblush Cos—that needs to be harvested, and now! With this unusually hot weather we’ve been having, it is getting almost too hot for the poor things. All the hearty greens (Red Russian kale, Cavalo Nero, Mustard, Tat Soi) we transplanted several weeks ago are also ready to be harvested. The young leaves are just the right size for stir-fries and sautés, but the two of us can only eat so much of this stuff. And the gorgeous purple pak choi we grew is looking just perfect right now (except for a few little holes from the flea beetles).

Since it’s early in the season here on Martha’s Vineyard, we don’t really have the traffic up at the Native Earth farm stand on North Road to sell much volume, but I’ve decided to keep a cooler of greens and lettuce out there every day nonetheless, just in case folks stopping in to get some of Rebecca Gilbert’s tomato plants might be tempted by a bargain. Also, I convinced our kind land lady, Rhonda, (who also manages Alley’s General Store) to take a basket of baby lettuces today for the Alley’s farm stand. So we are officially in business. Now I’m off to buy more soaker hoses. I said we were in business, not in profit-mode!

P.S. The pygmy goats at Native Earth are due to give birth any day now! Can’t wait to see those little kids.

side dishes, The Recipes

Chop Chop! Don’t Forget the Stems in a Swiss Chard Sauté

6 Comments

The second coolest thing about Swiss chard is that it cooks so darn fast. (The first coolest thing being its amazing neon color—especially the Bright Lights and Rainbow varieties.) So I hate to spoil the party, but I’m going to. My recipe takes a bit longer than the standard sauté.

That’s because most recipes tell you to discard the chard stems and “use them for vegetable stock” or something else. (I know how many of you are busying yourselves making vegetable stock.) This is so you can then wilt the leaves like spinach and have a side dish in seconds. But if you have a few extra seconds (okay, minutes), you can simply slice up those stems and cook them until crisp-tender before adding the leaves to the pan. The stems add nice texture and make the side dish feel a little more substantial, too.

I’m a big fan of sweet and sour combinations with greens. Swiss chard has an especially mineral-y flavor, so I love to smooth out its rough spots with a flavor combo like maple and balsamic (in this recipe, along with ginger) or honey and sherry vinegar (or lemon). You can also use a caramelized aromatic (like sautéed shallots) to stand in for the sweetness and to add body. And garlic always plays well with greens. So fiddle around with flavors once you get your prep and technique down for this easy weeknight chard sauté.

(P.S. We just harvested our first Swiss chard, as well as Russian Kale, Lacinato, Tat Soi, Purple Pak Choi, Royal Oakleaf Lettuce, Tom Thumb Bibb Lettuce, and Lollo di Vino lettuce. We’re stocking a cooler out at Native Earth Farm stand with goodies, so stop by if you’re driving up-island. More details soon!)

Swiss Chard with Balsamic, Maple Syrup and Fresh Ginger

______________________________________

1 ½ teaspoons maple syrup

½ teaspoon balsamic vinegar

1 bunch (12 to 13 oz.) Swiss chard, unstemmed, rinsed and dried

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

kosher salt

1 ½ teaspoons minced, peeled fresh ginger

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

2 tablespoons chopped or sliced toasted almonds

______________________________________

In a small bowl, whisk together the maple syrup and the balsamic vinegar.

Pull or cut away the stems from the chard leaves. Cut or rip the leaves into large (2- to 3-inch pieces) and wash and dry them well. Rinse the stems and slice them crosswise into thin (1/4-inch) pieces.

Heat the olive oil in a large (11- to 12-inch) nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add the chard stems and a pinch of kosher salt, and cook, stirring occasionally, until shrunken and beginning to brown lightly, 7 to 8 minutes. (They will begin to crackle in the pan as moisture evaporates.) Add the fresh ginger, stir, and cook just until fragrant, a few seconds. Add all of the chard leaves and ¼ teaspoon kosher salt and toss until just wilted (45 seconds to 1 minute). Scrape the balsamic-maple mixture into the pan, stir, and remove from the heat. Add the butter and toss and stir until it is melted. Serve warm, garnished with toasted sliced or chopped almonds if desired.

Serves 2 to 3

salads, side dishes, The Recipes

A Potato Salad to Celebrate the Unofficial Start of Summer

1 Comment

I realize that this is Memorial Day weekend, not Fourth of July, so I may be jumping the gun a little by posting a potato salad recipe. But it’s been such a warm spring, and it’s looking like it will be a hot weekend all over the country, so I figured folks might be thinking about potato salad for picnics and barbeques.

Truthfully, this thought got me a little worried, as visions of store-bought, factory-made, gloppy potato salad came to mind.  There is nothing I hate worse than bad potato salad.

But then I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that many of you all will be making your own delicious potato salads. In fact, you might even be scanning the web, looking for a lighter, brighter take on the classic American-style recipe. So I thought I’d post a favorite from Fast, Fresh & Green that’s got all the fresh flavors of spring, but that’s also assertive enough to pair with the grilled fare of summer—a  perfect season-bridger.

I made some of this New Potato Salad with Fresh Peas, Lime & Mint this morning and added a few slivers of baby radishes we pulled up from the garden yesterday. The lime zest and juice are the ingredients that really make this salad feel fresh, but lightening the mayonnaise with Greek yogurt helps a lot, too. In fact, these are two good tricks to remember when making any kind of mayonnaise dressing for a salad: Lighten the mayo with yogurt or whisked cream for a silkier texture, and always add extra lemon or lime for bright flavor. And don’t forget to salt the potatoes while you’re cooking them!

This salad is great with grilled lamb and grilled shrimp, but it’s also good as a main dish for lunch with some Bibb lettuce or as part of a vegetarian supper or picnic.

New Potato Salad with Fresh Peas, Lime & Mint

This recipe yields just enough to serve 4. You can easily double it, but you may find you want just slightly more dressing if you do. You can always whisk together just a bit more mayo, yogurt and lime and fold it in, or  you can start out by doubling all the ingredients, but only increasing the potatoes to 1 3/4 pounds instead of 2.

___________________________________________

1 pound baby Yukon gold or Red Bliss potatoes, quartered or cut into sixths for similar-sized pieces

2 ½ teaspoons kosher salt, more for seasoning

1 pound fresh peas in the pod, shelled to yield 1 cup peas (frozen peas are fine, too)

1/3 cup mayonnaise

¼ cup thick Greek yogurt (whole or 2%)

1 teaspoon (loosely packed) freshly grated lime zest (from about 1 lime)

½ teasoon fresh lime juice

¼ cup sliced scallions

2 to 3 tablespoons finely sliced fresh mint leaves

freshly ground black pepper

__________________________________________

Put the potatoes and 2 teaspoons of the salt in a large saucepan and cover with plenty of water. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer and cook until almost tender, about 10 minutes. Add the fresh peas (if using) and cook for 2 to 3 minutes more. (If using frozen peas, simply submerge them in a little tap water to defrost; then drain and dry.) Drain the potatoes and peas carefully in a colander and rinse them gently with cool water for a few minutes. Spread the potatoes and peas out on a small rimmed sheet pan and let cool. If you are in a hurry, you can refrigerate the potatoes like this and they will cool in about 20 minutes.

Meanwhile, whisk together the mayonnaise, the yogurt, the lime zest and the lime juice in a medium mixing bowl. Add the cooled potatoes and peas, the scallions, 2 tablespoons of the mint, ½ teaspoon kosher salt, and several grinds of fresh pepper. Mix gently but thoroughly with a silicone spatula. Taste and add a little more salt if desired. Garnish with the remaining mint .

Serves 4

Ingredient IQ, side dishes, The Recipes, Vegetables

Fruit or veg? Crisp or chutney? Rhubarb Does Double Duty

1 Comment

Technically, I said I was going to write about fruit as well as vegetables when I started this blog. So I could give myself permission to write about rhubarb—if it were a fruit. Which it’s not. (Technically it’s a vegetable).

And technically I could have given you a crisp recipe, but I usually use Karen Barker’s great Rhubarb Brown Sugar Crumble recipe over on the Fine Cooking website. So instead I’m offering up my favorite savory concoction, Rhubarb-Dried Cherry Chutney.  (It’s quick and easy to make and would be really great if you’re grilling pork tenderloin or even chicken this weekend).

And technically (sorry, but I’m lacking in a diverse vocabulary today) I should have blogged about rhubarb when it first poked out of the ground here in late April. But I didn’t. Time slips, you know. Or skids. Or something.

Fortunately, judging by the picture I took at our farmers’ market last year (stalks, above right), rhubarb is still thriving in June.

I took the other photos in April a couple years ago when I first got to the Island. (Not technically, but actually.) I was so fascinated by these bushy plants, which I sometimes found growing near old farmhouses, that I often stuck my camera down beneath their leafy canopies to capture the luminous underworld below, a forest of pink and pale green stalks writhing in dappled sunlight. The flowers (not edible) were a surprise to me, too.

If I had ever snatched any of this farmhouse rhubarb (which I didn’t), I would’ve been sure to trim all the leaves away before cooking. It annoys me to no end when I see rhubarb stalks for sale with the (toxic) leaves still attached. Do not eat the leaves. Period.  And know that the stalks themselves are quite tart. Delicious, but tart. They must be cooked with something sweet, and preferably lots of it.

Sure, sweet strawberries are the classic partner for rhubarb. But in reality, rhubarb appears on the scene so many weeks ahead of fresh (local) strawberries, that it’s nice to have a recipe or two on hand that showcases rhubarb alone. A crisp maybe, or a chutney.

Rhubarb & Dried-Cherry Chutney

_________________________________

1 cup medium-diced fresh rhubarb

½ cup small-diced onion

1⁄4 cup coarsely chopped dried cherries

1⁄4 cup granulated sugar

1⁄4 cup sherry vinegar

1 Tbs. honey

1⁄2 tsp. finely grated lemon zest

1⁄4 tsp. kosher salt

_________________________________

Combine all the ingredients in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, cover, and simmer over medium to medium-low heat until the onions are mostly translucent and the juices are beginning to thicken, about 5 minutes. Uncover and simmer, stirring frequently with a heatproof spatula, until very thick, another 6 to 8 minutes. Let cool completely in the pan before storing in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks.

Yields about 1 cup.

The Garden

Seaweed & The Scarecrow: Lessons from the Garden So Far

4 Comments

It’s only mid-May, and already the vegetable garden is leading me by the hand, showing me things about myself and my world that I sometimes ignore, don’t appreciate enough—or might not choose to think about all the time. Like the fact that I have pale skin (#30 sun block, my new best friend), am not in great shape (achy back and knees), and HELLO, I can’t do everything myself. Lately, I’ve been feeling really, really grateful for my partner Roy, who, when I suggested the crazy “production” garden idea last fall, embraced the idea enthusiastically. I’m quite sure I’d be a complete nervous wreck by now if he weren’t on the case, what with my book just coming out, deadlines swirling, etc., etc.

I bring this up only because I thought if anyone else is contemplating a big garden project like this, you might appreciate the suggestion to do it with a partner. The funny thing is, it’s not so much the (physical) load-sharing I appreciate. (Though there’s plenty of that, like the hour Roy spent fertilizing seedlings last night while I did some writing). It’s the cerebral stuff—the great ideas and the practical solutions that Roy brings to the garden because he thinks differently than I do (and often acts more quickly, too). Watching Roy work out the solution to some garden problem we’re having often turns into an “a ha!” moment for me, stimulating some long-sleepy area of my brain. Better still, the solutions in action are almost always some of the most fun garden moments we have.

Last week we needed to take the row cover fabric off of our baby pea plants and little bok choys, but we were still concerned the crows might get to them. “We need a scarecrow!” Roy kept saying. Sure, that sounded like a good idea to me, but I know if it had been up to me, we’d still not have a scarecrow. It was Roy who rustled through his old clothes to find a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, a tee-shirt for the face, and a hat, and then stuffed them full of hay. He tied Mr. Scarecrow up with twine, took him to the garden and tied him to the deer fence, and all Libby (his daughter) and I had to do was come in at the last minute to draw a face on Mr. Scarecrow and take his (and Roy’s) picture! So far Mr. Scarecrow is doing a great job, even fooling several human passers-by.

This weekend it became clear that our newly planted beds of lettuce, chard, arugula, and spinach were in bad need of mulching. We’ve had very little rain this spring, we don’t yet have drip hoses in place, and the soil is so dry that it isn’t holding the water from our morning douses very well. We’re also trying to keep our expenses down, so buying mulch for all these beds isn’t a great option. “We need seaweed,” Roy said. At first, I couldn’t quite wrap my head around this. I’ve heard seaweed makes a great addition to compost, and I thought it was something you laid out (in its wet form) on your garden beds over the winter. It hadn’t occurred to me what a great mulch dried seaweed makes.

“Get in the car,” Roy said Saturday morning, dragging me away from the computer. “We’re going to the beach.” He had stuffed a couple of tarps into the back of the car, and off we went. It was one of those big blue-sky days, warm and sunny, breeze gently blowing. We wore shorts and tee-shirts, dug our toes into the sand, and scooped up two tarp-loads of dried seaweed. I looked around at one of the most breathtaking vistas on Martha’s Vineyard – Rugosa roses and beach plums already blooming along the sand dunes that spilled out across the shore—and thought, what in the world could possibly be a more enchanting activity? Back at the garden, it felt so satisfying to spread the seaweed around the seedlings (like this arugula, right), knowing the soil would now stay moister (and a little less weedy).

There are lots more ways that Roy has made the practical solutions fun for us—like the cold frame he made out of an old sliding door. At first we had it positioned outside the deer fence, but found that awkward. “Let’s move this inside,” Roy said. Now it sits centered along one edge of the garden, surrounded by pansies that Libby and I planted. It doubles as a perch; at the end of a working day, we close it, sit on top it, and look out to admire our beds.  And then there’s the bamboo pea trellis (another adventure to collect the bamboo) and the refurbished wooden wagon (from a church).  But again, it’s not the trellis or the wagon—the material things—that matter so much. It’s what the garden offers as a true microcosm for everything in life: Without our friends, without help, without fresh ideas, we—and the garden—can’t thrive. I know the garden has more lessons in store for me this summer, but I’m glad I learned this one early on.

side dishes, The Recipes

A Great Tip+Fresh Spinach=Popeye’s Garlic Spinach Recipe

2 Comments

Cooks love tips—anything that makes life in the kitchen easier, tastier, more fun. I once did a TV tour where all I did was demonstrate cooking tips (of course with no stove or running water) on morning TV shows all over the country. This was somebody else’s great idea, not mine, as I was sent off to do this with almost no media training. Fortunately, I was usually on for about 30 seconds between the local political scandal and the weather, so I’m sure nobody watched.  However, in one place—Fort Worth, Texas—where I am happy to say they place a great value on cooking at home—I was on for 12 whole minutes. This required a little bit of effort to prepare for (and I’m not talking about the serious make-up they applied to me before I went on the air. I looked like Susiezilla). I had to expand my 30-second schpeel into a “top ten tips” kind of thing—and talk a whole lot more slowly!

The host (and the viewers) loved that tip demo, and I remembered this when I was getting ready for my book signing at Bunch of Grapes bookstore last Friday night. I was asked to speak for 30 minutes (normally this would be the time when a fiction or non-fiction author would read from his or her work), and I didn’t want to bore everyone to death. Plus, I am always better in front of a crowd if I have something to do with my hands. So I did a tip demo.

I peeled fresh ginger with a spoon. Made pretty squash ribbons with a hand-held julienne peeler. Zested a lemon with a Microplane zester. Cut the bottom of a potato off to stabilize it first before slicing it thinly. Stacked basil leaves, rolled them like a cigar, and sliced them across into a “chiffonade.” That sort of thing. Once again, I got positive feedback from folks, and one friend asked me if I could post more of these tips on my blog. “Just give us a short blog every once in a while with a quick tip.” Quick I am good at, short I am not. So while this blog could really begin with the next paragraph, I’ve made you all suffer through these words to get to the tip. Someday I will get it right.

Here’s the tip. It’s about using fresh garlic. Instead of always chopping or mincing fresh garlic, try slicing whole cloves very thinly with a paring knife. These slivers, when gently sautéed in olive oil (keep the heat fairly low to prevent overbrowning), turn into delicious golden “chips.” Not only do the chips make for tasty nubbins in your final dish, but they gently infuse the olive oil with subtle garlic flavor. That olive oil, in turn, imparts a nice garlic flavor to whatever (ideally a green leafy vegetable) you next add to the pan.  (Minced garlic releases so much juice that it not only risks burning more quickly but can overpower a dish with intense garlic flavor).

I use this method (and these yummy garlic chips) to make my version of the classic side dish, garlicky sautéed spinach. (I named mine for Popeye.) The only other trick to my side dish is—your guessed it—really fresh spinach. By fresh I mean spinach still on its stems, in a bunch (not in a plastic bag). I realize how convenient bagged spinach is, and I’m all for using it when I’m making a big lasagna or that sort of thing. But to enjoy a simple spinach side dish, treat  yourself to a bunch of fresh flavor (that was a typo, I meant fresh spinach…or maybe I really did mean flavor). I especially like the variety with bodaciously crinkly leaves that give your side dish a little body, even when wilted. And I do mean wilted—that’s my last tip. Don’t overcook spinach. Just toss it in the infused oil until it collapses. Done.

Popeye’s Garlic Spinach For Two

____________________________________

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1 bunch fresh spinach (10 to 12 ounces), stemmed, washed well, and spun dry

3 medium-large garlic cloves, peeled, ends trimmed, and cut into very thin slices (1 1/2 to 2 scant tablespoons garlic “chips”)

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon unsalted butter

____________________________________

Heat the olive oil in a medium (9- to 10-inch) nonstick skillet over medium-low heat. When the oil is hot (it will loosen up), add the garlic slices and stir with a silicone spatula to distribute them in the oil. Turn the heat to low and cook, stirring frequently to keep the garlic covered in the oil, until the garlic softens and loses its white color, and the smallest pieces become light brown, while the larger pieces are just starting to become a light golden color, 6 to 7 minutes (don’t overcook the garlic or it will become bitter). You should smell a pleasant garlicky aroma, nothing acrid. Add half of the spinach and the salt and stir and fold the spinach with tongs until most of it is wilted and dark green, 1 to 2 minutes. Add the other half of the spinach and stir well again until the spinach is mostly all wilted, another minute or two. Take the pan off the heat, add the butter, and stir again to melt the butter and incorporate it with the spinach. Transfer the spinach with all of the garlic pieces to a serving bowl or bowls.

Serves 2

side dishes, The Recipes

A Whole Plate of Quick-Braised Asparagus, Just for Me

5 Comments

I am home today roasting a bazillion plum tomatoes for a nibble I’m going to pass at my book signing tonight. There are sheet trays of tomatoes in various stages covering almost every surface in the kitchen (which is now thankfully a little less cluttered, as many of the 465 seedlings have gone to the farm garden). Bottles of olive oil, cutting boards covered with garlic slivers and thyme sprigs, and bowls of tomato seeds for the compost cover every other bit of remaining surface area.

It would have been easiest to fix myself a peanut butter sandwich for lunch. But no, I had to get out the sauté pan, because I’ve been ogling the gorgeous asparagus I bought at Morning Glory Farm yesterday. Every year I look forward to these purple behemoths; they have amazing flavor and defy the spindly Chilean spears that haunt the fluorescent aisles of the grocery store. These asparagus—you can tell they grew in the dirt, broke ground one cold March morning, and burst onto the scene with the bravado of a groundhog.

Actually, I was really glad I got the sauté pan out, as this whole recipe—one of my very favorite preparations for asparagus—takes, start to finish, less than 15 minutes to make. And the depth of flavor the vegetable gets from the browning, the quick simmer in chicken broth, and the finish of a little Dijon, butter, and herbs, is just astounding. (Okay, I realize that sounds a little boasty, this being my recipe. But if you make it and disagree, please let me know.) And for once, I got to eat the whole dish myself. Lucky me.

Quick-Braised Asparagus with Dijon-Herb Pan Sauce

This recipe was adapted from my cookbook, Fast, Fresh & Green.

________________________________________

1/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth

2 tablespoons dry white wine or 2 teaspoons lemon juice

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1 bunch medium-thick asparagus, each spear trimmed to six inches in length (to yield about 10 ounces)

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1 teaspoon roughly chopped fresh thyme or 1 to 2 teaspoons roughly chopped fresh chervil

1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard

______________________________________

Combine the chicken broth and white wine or lemon juice in a liquid measuring cup.

In a 10-in straight-sided sauté pan with a lid, heat the olive oil and 1/2 tablespoon of the butter over medium-high heat. When the butter has melted and is bubbling, add the asparagus and salt and toss the asparagus well to coat. Arrange in one layer and cook, without stirring, until the undersides are nicely browned, 4 to 5 minutes.

Using tongs, turn each spear over and cook, without stirring, just until the other side is beginning to brown, about 2 minutes. (If the asparagus are very thick, go one minute more.) Carefully (it will sputter) pour the liquid into the pan and immediately cover it. Simmer until the liquid reduces almost completely (1 or 2 teaspoons will be left), about 2 minutes. Uncover, take the pan off the heat, and add the remaining 1/2 tablespoon of butter, most of the thyme or chervil, and the Dijon. Stir gently with a silicone spatula to mix the mustard with the melting butter and to incorporate any browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Transfer the asparagus to a serving platter or plates and pour the pan sauce over it, scraping all of the sauce out of the pan. Garnish with the remaining herbs.

Serves 3 (as a side dish) or 1 for lunch!