All posts by Susie Middleton

The Year in Photos: Green Island Farm, 2014

January

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2014’s best moment: Little Barney comes in from the cold

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February

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Paulie’s last stand.

March

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photo-12Egg production picks up big-time in spring.

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Turning over the new veg field in the “back four.”

April

10171130_10203818806489450_6846942003228336987_n DSC_4091Onion and potato planting in the damp new days of spring.

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May

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11 may photo-291 photo-293 photo-294And we’re off! Baby kale, Baby bok choy, radishes–and lots of seedlings.

June

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It’s all happening fast now–berries, basil, carrots, and…plenty of daylight

July

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Blueberries, black raspberries,  yellow pattypans, purple eggplants, sunny sung olds, cheery calendulas–June is color at last.

August

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Tomatoes, of course. And new chickens. And lots of ribbons at the Fair, oh yeah!

September

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Serious harvest time.

October

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October is the best.

November

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December

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photo-308 photo-305photo-307And to all a good night. Cheers to 2015!

Missionaries of Joy, Peace on the Farm

Xmas card 2014PicMonkey CollagebChristmas came early for me this year. I got the best gift I could have asked for—a visit from my Mom and Dad last weekend. Since they live in Delaware and I live on an island in Massachusetts, we don’t get to see each other all that often.

But next week, these two, Pauletta (aka Perky) and Bob, will mark their 60th wedding anniversary. So the trip north was an early celebration. Though we dragged them all over the place and they enjoyed meeting our friends, I think Mom had the most fun playing board games with Libby back here in our cozy living room. (I believe the cute photo of Perky and Bob below was taken in 1956 during a trip to Hong Kong while my Dad was a Navy officer stationed in the Philippines.)

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Among other things, we also got 200 more chickens last week. I got to help Roy clean the coops in advance of their arrival. Yay. My least favorite farm job without a doubt.

While our friends from Burr Farm were unloading the chickens (actually 16-week-old pullets), another friend, artist Heather Goff, was visiting the farm studying our older hens, looking for inspiration for one of her daily sketches. (She produces a stunning sketch every day, which I look forward to seeing on Face Book every night. You can see them all here.) I love this one.

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Now Roy and I are scurrying around finishing up deadlines. I had five quinoa recipes to turn into Vegetarian Times today. Summer recipes, testing in December. 

We finally got the Christmas tree inside this morning. We bought it last Saturday at Morning Glory Farm while Mom and Dad were here, but it has been sitting outside patiently waiting to go on duty. Barney the kitty, having already knocked one of my Nativity angels to the ground and decapitated her, has been running around the house in circles since the tree came in. (Farmer is just rolling his eyes and wearing his strap-on reindeer antlers like a good sport.) Can’t wait to see how the decorating goes. Tinsel should be popular.

Christmas Eve we will have dinner at our friend Judy’s house. Beef tenderloin. I will bring a potato gratin and Brussels sprouts. Chocolate cake for dessert. Simple, peaceful, lovely.

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We will madly finish wrapping Libby Joy Riley’s Christmas presents, which all seem to be in very large boxes this year. (Yes, Libby’s middle name is Joy.)

Then we are planning a trip to Boston after Christmas to see The Nutcracker.

The days will soon be longer. I’m glad. The darkness bothers me, I have to admit. But one of my favorite psalms (to paraphrase) reminds me that darkness may endure for a night but joy comes in the morning.

DSC_1798And as Pope Francis said this past Sunday, we should all be “missionaries of joy,” as it is the best gift we can give our friends and family during the holidays. Christmas is joy, he said. Maybe some days we have to practice being joyful if it isn’t exactly coming naturally. But really there is joy all around us. We just have to grab a little and pass it on.

Roy, Libby, Farmer, Barney and I wish you a holiday season filled with much (sharing of) joy and peace.

 

 

Feeling Cookie-ish, Part 2: Dark Chocolate Crackle Cookie Recipe

DSCN0945Chocolate and orange—Love it or hate it? This is one of the (grueling) debates we used to have in the Fine Cooking magazine test kitchen when it came time to test recipes for the holiday issues. There was always a chocolate soufflé or chocolate something that had orange zest or oil added to it. Some of us were firmly on the side of “no orange in my chocolate!” Me, I happen to be a fan. That bright, citrusy tang adds complexity by bringing out the fruity side of a good bittersweet chocolate.

But, yeah, in the scheme of things, these are not the kinds of debates that are going to keep us awake at night. (Although they are a good diversion from things that are!) And really, the one thing they remind me of this time of year is what a gift those test kitchen tastings were. After eight years at Fine Cooking—and hundreds of recipes tasted—I had this huge collection of taste memories to refer to whenever I needed a recipe for a special occasion (or any time, really). Of course the memories were tied to recipes printed in the magazines, and I still have all 130+ regular issues on the bookshelf right behind me. But lucky for you, they are all (mostly) online at this point (and available in a CD). And better still, recipes have been collected into specially themed magazines which are easy to reference. So when it comes time to start baking cookies in December, I just pull out my Fine Cooking Cookies issue. (You can purchase it for $7.49 in the Taunton Store right now).

Most of my favorite cookie recipes are from my favorite baker, Abby Dodge (the author of several outstanding cookbooks, including The Weekend Baker). I got to know Abby when we were mere children (ha!) in the early days of Fine Cooking. Abby was the magazine’s first test kitchen director.

She is a chocolate genius.

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So even though I realize this is supposed to be a blog about cooking and growing vegetables, I am going to share Abby’s Dark Chocolate Crackle Cookie recipe with you today. I simply have cookie-brain right now. After posting the Giant Molasses Crinkles recipe last week, I thought, well, I’ll just keep on cookie-ing for now! Since my Dad is arriving today and he is a fellow-chocolate lover (he used to secretly steal bites out of my chocolate Easter bunnies), I figured it was a good time to make what may be my favorite holiday cookie (at least in the top three).

And yes, there is orange zest in this chocolate recipe. But the wonderful news is that the cookie is delicious with and without it. I’ve used the suggested 2 teaspoons, occasionally 1 teaspoon, and sometimes none. All have been wonderful. There is a lot of cocoa and chocolate here, but the investment is worth it since the recipe yields a lot.        

photo-277Dark Chocolate Crackle Cookies

Recipe by Abigail Johnson Dodge from Fine Cooking Magazine Issue 89

These deeply flavorful chocolate cookies have a light, cakey, almost-brownie-ish interior. They are fragile when hot, so let them cool for several minutes on the cookie sheets before moving. You can freeze balls of dough for up to 1 month instead of cooking them all right away. Thaw them overnight before proceeding with the recipe.

Yields about 5 dozen cookies

 

 11-1/4 oz. (2-1/2 cups) unbleached all-purpose flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1/4 tsp. table salt

8 oz. (1 cup) unsalted butter, at room temperature

2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar

2 oz. (2/3 cup) natural, unsweetened cocoa, sifted if lumpy

2 tsp. finely grated orange zest

1 tsp. pure vanilla extract

3 large eggs

8 oz. bittersweet chocolate, melted and cooled until barely warm

3/4 cup (4 oz.) chopped chocolate (white, bittersweet, or semisweet)

1/3 cup granulated sugar; more as needed

Position a rack in the center of the oven and heat the oven to 350ºF. Line three large cookie sheets with parchment or nonstick baking liners.

In a medium mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (or in a large mixing bowl with a hand mixer), beat the butter, brown sugar, cocoa, orange zest, and vanilla on medium speed until well combined, about 4 minutes. Add the eggs one at a time, beating briefly between additions. Add the cooled chocolate and mix until blended, about 1 minute. Add the dry ingredients and mix on low speed until almost completely blended, about 1 minute. Add the chopped chocolate and mix until blended, about 15 seconds.

Shape the dough into 1-1/4-inch balls with a small ice-cream scoop or two tablespoons.

Pour the granulated sugar into a shallow dish. Dip the top of each ball in the sugar and set the balls sugar side up about 1-1/2 inches apart on the prepared cookie sheets. Bake one sheet at a time until the cookies are puffed and cracked on top, 11 to 12 minutes. Let the cookies cool on the sheet for 5 minutes before transferring them to a rack to cool completely.

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The Swirl of Winter and A Cookie for a Cold Day

photo-261It feels a bit swirly here in my world. I know swirly isn’t really a word (or at least not the right word), but often I need to merge two or three words to find something that sounds like what it is. Swish, whoosh, whorl, curl, squirrel. I’m looking for a word that says I’m feeling a little squirmy and wind-blown and short of breath. Partly because every time I walk out the door, the wind, the relentless wind, is cranking up again. Sending leaves scampering and tearing a thousand tiny branches from the trees. It’s getting dark so early, too, and even on the sunnier days, the skies seem to be the color of stone and riddled with buckshot clouds. Ominous, in a not very subtle way. In the short window of daylight, there’s not nearly the time we need to clean the fields, mulch the beds, gather tools strewn near and far. And those are not even things at the top of the list. How did it get to be December?

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Time is not slowing down the way I thought it would come winter. (Ha! Yet another reminder that I am not in control.) I clear my desk of one thing and four more piles show up. I go into the kitchen to test a recipe and come out with four more things I want or need to cook. There are cookbooks and magazines piled everywhere. And books I’ve been meaning to read. Farm paperwork to do.

I have a bad habit, too, of worrying about the future, especially on dark, cold, windy days. Like everyone else on the planet, I go from feeling like I’m absolutely going in the right direction to wondering what in the world I’m doing. I especially like to have self-debates about the merits of writing cookbooks as part of one’s income plan. Yesterday evening I found out that Fresh From the Farm: A Year of Recipes and Stories was chosen to be on NPR’s list of great reads for 2014. An honor and a total surprise. I let myself be very excited about it, just because you have to do that to be good to yourself. What does it mean? Will it help sell more copies? Who knows!

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But I know it is good to be back in the kitchen cooking now. And I see, looking back at some of my recent Instagram photos, that apparently swirly things are not all bad in my world. (I’m coming to the end of my second 100 days straight of farm photos on Instagram.) I take a lot of comfort in the concentricity of say, a sweet potato-parmesan-goat cheese galette I made for Thanksgiving (top photo). (And, believe it or not, concentricity is a real word). Or the curly life lines of a freshly sawn tree trunk.

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Or the uber-familiar circle of a favorite cookie. Like the giant molasses crinkles I made today, just because. Because December means cookies to me. Lots of cookies. (Cookies are the antidotes to grey days, don’t you know?) And because these giant molasses cookies are a recipe from Fresh From the Farm, part of a bigger pear dessert. (This is where I am supposed to remind you that cookbooks make great holiday gifts… And that cookbook authors will be eternally grateful to you for your purchases…) And because the cookies remind me of my best friend Eliza, to whom I wish I lived closer. And of my mom, who is coming to visit (with my Dad, of course) next week. It will be their 60th wedding anniversary this month.

I bet they wonder where 60 years went. Me, I look at the shiny splotchy warm patina of my metal tart pans and baking sheets in these photos, and I wonder where 20, even 30 years went. I’ve had these things that long. Clearly my memory bank is swirling around a lot these days, too, circling back.

Tonight we’re celebrating Roy’s birthday. With freshly caught bay scallops a friend dropped off for us. And a simple vanilla cake I made this afternoon. And cookies, of course. Here’s the recipe.

DSCN0858Big Molasses Crinkle Cookies

This is a softer, chewier version of a childhood favorite. It’s also a bit bigger (as in diameter), since I roll the dough into fairly large balls. They bake out at between 3 and 4 inches across. The dough needs to be chilled for 45 minutes to an hour, but it can also be chilled overnight if you like. The cookies freeze well, too.

Makes 16 four-inch cookies

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2 1/4 cups (10 1/2 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons baking soda

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon ground ginger

1/2 teaspoon ground cloves

Table salt

3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 cup dark brown sugar

6 tablespoons granulated sugar

1 large egg

1/4 cup unsulphured molasses

1 tablespoon vegetable oil

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In a small mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and 1/4 teaspoon salt.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, combine the butter, brown sugar, 2 tablespoons of the granulated sugar, and a pinch of salt. Beat on medium speed until light and fluffy, about a minute. Stop the motor and scrape the sides down. Add the egg and beat on medium speed until combined. With the motor running, slowly add the molasses and the vegetable oil and beat on medium-low speed until well combined. Stop the motor and scrape the sides down. With the motor running on low, spoon in the dry ingredients gradually and mix until just combined (you’ll still see some flour). Remove the bowl from the mixer and use a silicone spatula to finish gently mixing the last bits of flour into the dough.

Chill the dough in the refrigerator for an hour or so.

Heat the oven to 375° F degrees. Line two rimmed baking sheets with parchment. Put the remaining 4 tablespoons granulated sugar in a shallow bowl. Put a small bowl of water out. Roll the dough into big balls that are about 1 1/2-inches (or a smidge bigger) in diameter. Dip each ball in the sugar and roll around to coat. Put each on the baking sheet. Sprinkle each dough ball with a little water. Repeat, spacing dough balls 4 to 5 inches apart on the baking sheets. (You’ll get 4 to 5 cookies on a sheet pan.)

Bake until the cookies are set around the edges, slightly puffed (they will collapse as they cool), and crackled on the top, 11 to 13 minutes, rotating the baking sheets to opposite racks halfway through cooking. (Smaller cookies will cook in about 10 minutes.) Cool on the baking sheets. Repeat with the remaining dough, putting new parchment on the baking sheets.

Keep the cookies well wrapped in plastic inside of a zip-top bag in the freezer or well wrapped at room temperature for a day or two. To warm cookies, place on a parchment-lined baking sheet in a 350°F oven for 2 to 4 minutes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kitchen Travel: From Point A to Point B = Pumpkin Hand-Pies

photo-231Sometimes, in my efforts to use up food, I never know what I’m going to wind up with in the kitchen. This week, among far too many things I’d amassed in the fridge, a container of roasted squash was staring at me from behind a bag of kale. I have no idea what I’d been planning to do with it when I pulled it out of the freezer. Maybe make my Spiced Butternut and Cranberry Quick Bread from Fresh From the Farm? Usually I wait until closer to Christmas time to do that. And I know it wasn’t one of many different butternut soups I make. (Though soup is the main reason I roast and freeze winter squash “meat.”)

Puzzled, I returned to my computer, where I happened across an email from Food 52 with a “Genious Pumpkin Butter” recipe in it. I’m not really a fruit butter kind of gal, but I clicked on this because I loved the photo and the deep color of the pumpkin butter. When I got there, I realized why it looked so appealing. In a word (one of my favorite words): Caramelization. The pumpkin (or squash) is basically roasted twice, first to get the flesh tender and scoopable (and out of the skin); second with brown sugar, spices, and a little butter in a shallow baking pan so there is lots of contact with direct heat. You stir the squash mixture from time to time as it bakes and releases a lot of moisture, making it drier, much more flavorful, and deeply colored.

I’d already done the first part—check. So I measured the roasted squash I had (3 cups) and set about to make this right away. (I cut the recipe in half  and used a 7 x 11 Pyrex baking dish.) The house began to smell holiday-fragrant, and stirring the squash every once in a while was one of those comforting and tactile pleasures that make cooking so satisfying.

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I ate some right out of the pan not long after it came out of the oven–delicious. Like pumpkin pie filling only much tastier and more concentrated. Which reminded me, of course, that I now had to do something with the squash butter (thinking Roy was really not going to be interested in squash butter crostini for dinner.) So once again, fate (and web surfing) intervened, and as I was perusing The New York Times thanksgiving coverage, I came upon Melissa Clark’s simple pie dough recipe. I had just seen a recipe for cranberry hand pies on another site, and suddenly I knew what I wanted to do—make mini pumpkin (or squash) hand-pies.

After making and chilling Melissa’s easy dough, I promptly stopped looking at anyone else’s recipes, which might have been a mistake, because I haven’t made hand-pies in centuries. But I was already having so much fun with my old pastry cutters, flour flying all over the place.

photo-237 photo-235So only after I had already cut out circles that were rather small, cut little windows out of them, and spooned a heaping portion of roasted squash on to them, did I realize that folding one half of this circle of dough on to itself (to make a half-moon shape) was going to be a stretch and a squish. I should have made bigger circles and smaller cut-outs. Whatever, I said! And forged ahead again, baking them anyway, and then going on to use the rest of the dough to make full-circle hand-pies that held the filling more demurely. (The half moons were cuter, though, even if they were a bit stuffed.)

But wait! Half way through I also stopped and folded a couple tablespoons of mascarpone cheese into the pumpkin butter and tried that as a more “pie-ish” filling. The first one of those I tasted I loved and promptly filled the rest of the dough with that stuff. Later, after everything cooled–and more sampling ensued–I decided that I actually liked the straight roasted squash butter filling better. The crust was so flaky and buttery that it didn’t need a creamier filling.

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Well, in the end these things were very cute and very tasty. But of course I can’t give you a full recipe, because I was playing, rather than developing! But if you’re intrigued (and the little pies would be great on a Thanksgiving dessert buffet—they don’t even need to be warmed up), you can certainly grab the pumpkin butter and pie dough recipes and have at it yourself. I would say that in the end I got about 12 to 14  hand pies out of the one dough recipe. (And there is plenty of leftover pumpkin butter, so you could certainly make more dough to yield more pies.) The photo-236only other things you will need are a little egg wash (made from one egg yolk and a bit of cream) and some coarse sugar. I brushed a little of the egg wash around the edges of the dough circles before sealing them. And I also brushed the tops of the pies—for color and to help the sugar adhere. I used some raw cane sugar I happened to have around, but a cinnamon sugar mix might be nice to try, too.

P.S. If you’re in the process of making up your Thanksgiving menu, and you’re looking for side dish ideas, I’ve been posting my favorite side dishes on Face Book at Susie Middleton Cooks. And you can click here for a link to some of my older favorites.

P.P.S. My apologies for the fuzzy (and poorly lit) photos–my good camera has now left the repair place and apparently is being sent back to the “factory” for repair. Yikes.

 

Watching the Seasons Change And a Little Girl Grow Up

photo-189The cold is coming. It hasn’t reached us yet, but the rain ahead of it knocked the maple leaves to the ground en masse last night. I don’t mind the chill so much as the moving away from this week’s sweet foggy mornings. The gauzy curtains of mist were comforting and protective, setting up a make-believe border of quiet and stillness around the farm, letting me wander from one lazy farm chore to the other without compulsion, as if time were suspended.

photo-217It is all about the landscape now, this slow march to winter. I can’t take my eyes off the shifting shapes and colors and textures that nature randomly yet gracefully offers up on a daily, hourly, almost minute-by-minute basis.

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My good camera is still broken, but that hasn’t stopped me from exploiting the phone camera. Fuzzy images or not, they must be taken. I have to grab some of these moments. Especially the ones where a little girl (who’s not so little any more) wanders into the frame.

photo-187A good farm chore to do together: Removing tomato clips from the trellis while listening to music on the iPhone. First song up, of all things, Gabriel’s Oboe (the beautiful theme from the movie The Mission). Don’t worry, lest you think this is a bit morose for a 12-year-old, Taylor Swift was up next on the playlist. And a little basketball practice. (Next sport for Libby this winter.) More fun tossing those little clips into the bucket from a distance, don’t you know.

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Watching Libby grow up is like observing nature. There are so many subtle shifts that you don’t notice if you’re not paying close attention. And then one day a season has passed and a whole new one is right there, undeniably. It is stunning and heart-achy at the same time. Why can’t time stand still? I never used to think that—I was always projecting into the future, looking for something to come. Now, not so much. What is right here, right now is the best.

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Heirloom Seeds, A New Kale Cookbook, and A Passion for Veggies That Won’t Let Up

KaleGloriousKale_CVR_P6.jpg coverSafe to say I am pretty geeky about all things vegetable-y. I especially love to learn about new and different vegetable varieties. So when I got my hands on my friend Cathy Walther’s new kale cookbook, Kale Glorious Kale, I was in heaven. Right there on page four was this beautiful photo of nine different kinds of kale. We only grow three different kinds, but I would love to grow more. Down the road, farmer Rusty Gordon grows 13 different kinds at Ghost Island Farm. For the book, Cathy interviewed Rusty about growing kale, so I learned that Rusty’s favorite variety is Beira, a specialty kale originally from Portugal that resembles collard greens.

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Cathy also touched base with legendary plant breeder Frank Morton, of Wild Garden Seed Co. in Philomath, Oregon. I know his name from the research I’ve done on lettuce varieties, but I didn’t realize that he had developed the lovely and tender White Russian kale, a cross between Red Russian and Siberian, and the sexy Red Ursa. He mentions that Red Ursa has particularly sweet stems, and that sugar tends to concentrate in stems. Throughout Kale, Glorious, Kale, Cathy goes on to feed my curiosity with flavor-pairing charts, technique tips, growing tips, and fun kale anecdotes, many appearing as “The Kale Chronicles” throughout the recipe chapters.

Cushaw in Freeman GardenFreeman Root Cellar-2As it happens, the same week I got Cathy’s book, I was invited to speak at Old Sturbridge Village, a very cool living history museum in central Massachusetts that replicates an 1830’s New England village. The museum is very active in preserving heritage breeds of animals and in growing and saving the seeds of heirloom vegetables. Much to my delight, the folks who invited me to speak that night brought along a selection of heirloom vegetables from the working farm in the village to display around the room. I could barely keep my eyes off this bounty, and later on, I asked OSV’s Debra Friedman to give me a little background on some of the vegetables. I think Deb knew I was pretty excited, because wouldn’t you know it, guess what showed up in my mailbox this week? Seeds! Boston Marrow Squash, Green Nutmeg Melon, Canada Crookneck Winter Squash, Jacob’s Cattle Bush Bean, Red Wethersfield Onion—oh, my! Roy is going to groan when I tell him we need more room for heirloom vegetables. I am pretty thrilled, though. Thanks Deb.

photo-178I think Roy is onboard with planting more kale, though. Which is a good thing, as I am excited about all the delicious ways to cook it that Cathy offers in her new book. I’ve already made Kale Granola (recipe below), and it rocks. I’m sort of a granola freak anyway, and since I’ve been late to embrace the crispy kale trend, this gave me a chance to do both at once. But with Kale and Feta Pizza; Kale Caesar Salad; Tortilla, Shrimp & Kale Soup; Cider-Braised Kale and Chicken; Kale Latkes; and Cathy’s already famous Kale, Pumpkin Seed and Bacon Brittle (yes!), there is a lot to look forward to.  (She even has a gorgeous section on kale cocktails.) That is, if I can stop reading the “Kale Chronicles” or gazing at Alison Shaw’s stunning photos.

There doesn’t seem to be a limit to the kick I get out of vegetables. Reading about them, growing them, cooking them, photographing them. In fact, I don’t see this passion losing steam any time soon. So stand by–now that I’m back indoors with time to cook, I’m tinkering again!

photo-177Cathy Walther’s Kale Granola from Kale, Glorious Kale (Countryman Press, Sept. 2014)

Cathy says in her headnote, “The combination of kale, oats and nuts is crunchy and satisfying. Everyone likes to munch on this as a snack—it doesn’t even seem to last until breakfast to top yogurt, mix with fruit or serve with milk. It’s easy to vary the nuts and the dried fruit with your favorites.

 

5 cups curly kale (stripped from stalk, chopped or torn into large bite-sized pieces, rinsed and dried well)

6 tablespoons virgin coconut oil, divided (see Cook’s Note)

¾ teaspoon kosher salt

¼ cup light brown sugar

6 tablespoons pure maple syrup

3 cups rolled oats

1 cup broken pecans, broken walnuts, or sliced almonds

½ cup sunflower seeds

¼ cup sesame seeds

1 cup dried cranberries, roughly chopped

¼ cup dried apricots, chopped into ¼-inch pieces

¼ cup raisins, roughly chopped

 

1. Preheat the oven to 300° F.

2. Make sure the kale is well dried. Place the kale in a bowl with 1 tablespoon of the coconut oil and ¼ teaspoon of the salt. Knead or massage with your hands until the coconut oil is rubbed on all the leaves. Set aside.

3. In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining 5 tablespoons of coconut oil, and the brown sugar, maple syrup and remaining ½ teaspoon of salt. In another larger bowl, combine the nuts, oats, and seeds.

4. Take 2 tablespoons of the wet ingredients and combine with the kale. Rub it over the leaves. Pour the rest over the oat mixture and mix very well until incorporated and the oats are completed covered.

5. Line two 12×17-inch baking sheets with parchment paper or a silicone mat. Place the oats on one sheet, spreading them out evenly, and the kale on the other sheet. (The kale seems to crisp up better separately, but you can mix the kale and oats together and it will work.) Bake all for 25 to 30 minutes, mixing two or three times to prevent the outer edges from burning, and also rotating the pans. I sometimes switch the oven setting to “convection bake” if the mixture doesn’t seem to be crisping up. Remove the kale when it is crispy, but not browned. Remove the oats when they are crispy or nearly crispy and before the nuts are burned. Both will get crispier once they sit on the counter to cool.

6. When cooled, combine the kale with the oats. Add the dried fruit. Pack into mason jars for storage.

Cook’s Note (on Coconut Oil) from Cathy: “I’ve switched to coconut oil instead of canola oil for making granola (though substitute canola or another vegetable oil if that is what you have). I love the subtle flavor coconut adds, and nutritionists are recommending its healthier properties. In warmer weather, coconut oil looks like an oil; in cooler weather it tends to solidify. For this recipe, if it has solidified, I usually put the jar in a saucepan of hot water until it becomes liquid again. Also, if you mix it with cold maple syrup it tends to solidify again, which makes it hard to coat the oats and kale, so I usually just have the maple syrup at room temperature or heat it up very slightly before mixing the liquid ingredients.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Delicious Roasted Garlic and Cranberry Bean Dip

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Depending on the season, the month, the hour, the minute, my vote for “prettiest garden vegetable” changes. My allegiance is fleeting, I know, but I can’t help it when something new bursts on the scene. Right now, I am totally captivated by cranberry beans. This year’s variety, planted in July after the peas came out, is Vermont Cranberry Bean, and it took a little longer to mature than the similar Borlotti bean I’ve grown in the past. (In the confusing world of bean varieties, there happen to be several different shell beans with similar characteristics but slightly different growing habits that are referred to as cranberry beans.)

But with both the varieties I’ve grown, the “harvest me” sign is the same—the background color of the pod turns from green to white. (The “speckled” foreground color of course is bright pink.) Inside, the beans are plump and pinkish, also having lost all signs of greenness.

As the beans begin to dry out, their color darkens to a deep magenta (on the upper left in the photo above.) You can let the beans dry out either on the plant or in a dry spot if you want to save them to use over the winter. But I prefer to nab the beans at their plump, pinkish stage, because fresh shell beans are a real treat. Their defining characteristic is a very smooth, creamy texture, achieved after simmering for only about 25 minutes. Usually at that point, I will toss the beans in warm garlic and rosemary oil (and sometimes cooked pancetta) and serve them over arugula, Roman-style. Or I will use them as a great excuse to make minestrone. (Either way, their lovely color dulls, unfortunately.)

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But this year I wanted to do something else with them, and I landed on the perfect thing when I came across an old recipe of mine for a white bean and roasted garlic dip. How much better the cranberry beans would be, I thought, with their lovely texture. Sure enough, when I made the dip/spread/puree yesterday, the texture was almost fluffy and pillowy. And the flavor awesome.

photo-154photo-156I ate some of the puree on toasted ciabatta, but you could serve it with raw vegetables or pita as a dip or even use it as a bed for grilled or roasted lamb or pork.

If you don’t see cranberry beans or any other fresh shell bean in your market this fall, you can make this with dried beans (such as Great Northerns)  that you cook until very tender. Remember to save the cooking liquid to thin the puree a bit.

Roasted Garlic and Cranberry Bean Puree/Dip/Spread

1 ½ cups shelled fresh Cranberry beans (from about a pound of pods)
2 small spring fresh rosemary
6 cloves roasted garlic (see Tip below)
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
kosher salt

Put the beans, the rosemary, and a pinch of salt in a large saucepan and cover with cold water by at least an inch and a half. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and cook until very tender, about 25 minutes. You can add about ¼ teaspoon of salt after 15 or 20 minutes if you like. Remove the pan from the heat and use a slotted spoon to transfer the beans to a plate or bowl. Reserve the cooking liquid. (In other words, don’t throw it away, you’re going to use it!). Let everything cool for 10 or 15 minutes. Discard the rosemary sprigs, but don’t worry if a few wayward leaves are left behind to go into the puree.

photo-159In the bowl of a small food processor, combine the beans, the roasted garlic, the olive oil, 2 tablespoons of cooking liquid, and ¼ teaspoon salt. Process, stopping often to scrape down the sides of the bowl, until the mixture is just roughly chopped. Add more cooking liquid, a few teaspoons at a time, if necessary, and continue processing until you achieve a light, creamy texture. (Taste at this point to discern the texture, because the look will still be a bit coarse. You don’t want to process or add any more cooking liquid than is necessary, though this is probably a matter of personal taste!) Serve right away or refrigerate. It will hold well for a day or so. Bring it to room temperature before serving.

Roasting Garlic Tip

Instead of roasting a whole head of garlic, I usually break the head into individual cloves, toss them with olive oil, arrange in a small baking dish, cover with foil, and bake at 375°F for 30 to 35 minutes. Then I pop the cloves out of their papery skins. It’s a little quicker, and maybe a bit less messy, though some of the cloves will brown a bit from contact with the pan. Using all larger cloves is a way around this problem.

Slow-Sautéed Green Beans, Before The Frost Comes

DSC_3498We’re in between the color and the cold right now.

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But no frost yet. So we still have flowers. Round two or three or four on the self-seeding calendulas.

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And we still have green beans. Yay. Rattlesnake pole beans. Double yay. Lucky we are that the trellis hasn’t blown over in this Nor ‘Easter whiffling past. But even if it had, I’d be out there picking through the vines on the ground.

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I can’t pick every day now, though, because the plants are flowering less and yielding less beans. It’s not efficient to spend time going up and down the row, squatting up and down to check every vine, if you’re not going to come away with much.

photo-116So when I do pick, some of the beans tend to be on the larger side. If they are really getting fat, I leave them, because the Rattlesnakes will eventually yield edible seeds. Some of them (see photo at right) are already plump and podding.

But if they are just a little bit beyond the filet-ish stage, I have my excuse for a slow-sauté. Every year I talk about slow-sautéed green beans on Sixburnersue. (Sorry.) I love the technique because it brings out the nutty, earthy, satisfying side of green beans, while adding the delicious side notes of aromatic veggies and herbs that cook in the pan, too. And though it certainly isn’t required, a bit of bacon, ham, or pancetta in the pan never hurts.

Last night I made a vegetarian version of one of these sautés with the Rattlesnakes, some shisito peppers, and shallots, and served it over polenta. But because my good camera is malfunctioning (it needs to be cleaned, but my car is also malfunctioning so getting to the camera shop is going to be tricky!), I don’t have a nice photo of the dish to show you. It is probably just as well, because while these beans are delicious, they aren’t the prettiest.

Of course, because I love the technique so much, I had to include it in Fresh from the Farm: A Year of Recipes and Stories. So I thought I’d share that recipe (Slow Sauteed Green Beans with Shiitakes and Prosciutto) with you here, even though when I wrote it we were growing Kentucky Wonder and Fortex pole green beans, not Rattlesnakes. Now that I’ve discovered Rattlesnakes, there’s no going back. But any green bean (pole or bush), as long as it isn’t too thin, will work here.  Get out your skillet and go for it.

Slow-Sautéed Green Beans with Shiitakes and Prosciutto

Recipe copyright Susie Middleton from Fresh From the Farm: A Year of Recipes and Stories.

You won’t believe how crowded the pan is when you first load it up with all these veggies; but with this terrific (and straightforward) technique, the veggies will slowly soften, brown, and shrink into a delicious and tender tangle of deep flavor. The browning will start happening fast in the second half of cooking, but don’t jump the gun and stop the cooking too soon. Just stir more frequently and really let everything get a deep brown color for the most lovely flavor.

 Serves 4

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2 teaspoons maple syrup

2 teaspoons sherry or white balsamic vinegar

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

1 pound green beans, trimmed

7 to 8 ounces shiitake mushrooms, stemmed and halved (or quartered if large)

8 cloves garlic, peeled and halved

2 ounces thinly sliced prosciutto, torn into small (1- to 2-inch) pieces

4 medium sprigs fresh rosemary

Kosher salt

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In a small bowl, combine the maple syrup and vinegar.

In a large (12-inch) nonstick skillet, heat the olive oil over medium heat. Add the beans, mushrooms, garlic, prosciutto, rosemary, and 1 teaspoon salt. Toss well with tongs to coat. Cover the pan and cook, stirring occasionally, until all the green beans have turned bright green, are beginning to turn brown, and have begun to lose their stiffness, 10 to 12 minutes. Uncover and cook, stirring more frequently, until all the beans are very deeply browned (the mushrooms and garlic will be browned and tender, too), 15 to 17 more minutes. Remove the pan from the heat and taste a bean and a mushroom for salt. Season lightly if necessary (the mushrooms may have absorbed more of the salt). Stir in the maple-vinegar mixture. Remove the rosemary sprigs and transfer to a serving platter or plates. Eat right away.

Stuffing and Roasting a Long Island Cheese Pumpkin. Yes.

DSC_3456Totally out of character, I decided to stuff and roast a pumpkin. Totally in character, I decided to do this because someone gave me a very pretty pumpkin, one that seemed at first glance like it would be a more efficient holder-of-stuffing than a sugar pumpkin. Not that there’s anything wrong with sugar pumpkins. But, look,  these Long Island Cheese pumpkins (above) are pretty suave looking, don’t you think? Okay, maybe suave is a bad word, but elegant, graceful, or charming would do. Charming in a Cinderella-coach kind of way. In fact, there is something called a Cinderella pumpkin that looks quite similar to a Long Island Cheese pumpkin, only it’s bigger and redder.

The Long Island Cheese pumpkin came from Simon Athearn, farmer at Morning Glory Farm here on the Vineyard. Roy ran into him on a run to Morning Glory to pick up some regular field pumpkins we were buying wholesale for our farm stand. Simon is a good cook himself. (And among other things, a talented grower of Long Island Cheese pumpkins, as Morning Glory Farm has many of them this year. Take note, Islanders—go get yourself one!) He handed the pumpkin to Roy and suggested I make something with it. He mentioned he’d been filling his with a mix of potatoes and sausage. And he said that the squash itself was delicious.

When the pumpkin arrived at home, I was intrigued, because I actually tried to grow a few of these last year (no luck) and anything that has “cheese” in the name is okay with me. (The name comes from the fact that the pumpkin resembles a wheel of cheese, not from its flavor.) So I thought for once I’d put aside the little thing I have about stuffed vegetables.

I poked around and found a recipe by Dorie Greenspan, a cook and food writer I greatly admire. (She actually taught me a course on recipe writing at culinary school many years ago.) The recipe, called Pumpkin Stuffed with Everything Good, is from her book, Around My French Table. (But you can find it here on Epicurious.). The “everything good” part does not refer to a kitchen sink list of stuff, but a lovely combination of bread, gruyere cheese, thyme, a bit of bacon (I used sausage), garlic, some herbs, and heavy cream. Now that is my kind of stuffing, I thought.

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Ultimately, a recipe for stuffing and cooking a pumpkin can only really be a set of guidelines, but I have to say, Dorie’s “guidelines” (her tips, her timing, and the proportions of ingredients) worked beautifully—of course! Our 4-pound pumpkin was tender and the stuffing puffed in about an hour and 45 minutes. We took the cap off at that point to brown the top of the stuffing a bit.

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We let the pumpkin rest out of the oven for 10 minutes or so.  (Unfortunately, it was now too dark to shoot a nice photo in natural light, so this scary indoor one will have to do.) Then we scooped out the stuffing, which had a lovely ethereal, almost soufflé-ish texture, along with the tender bright-orange squash flesh. The stuffing was delicious, infused with the flavors of the thyme, sausage, garlic, and gruyere. And the squash, like its color, was bright tasting—almost a bit citrusy, I thought. Very nice, and not at all stringy. (It turns out that Long Island Cheese pumpkins are of the Cucurbit moschata species, along with butternut squash and other squash that tend to have less stringy flesh. It is also an heirloom that once was grown widely for pie-making, and is now making a come back in popularity.)  Altogether, the stuffing with the squash made a really nice “one-pot” (one-pumpkin?) supper, with leftovers.

Now I am curious about what the Long Island Cheese pumpkin flesh would taste like roasted and caramelized. (You’d have to cut the pumpkin into wedges or slices to do that.) I think it would be great with a bit of goat cheese, cilantro, and a drizzle of maple-lime butter.

So maybe that’s why we’re now in possession of a few more of these lookers. Tomorrow I am off to give a Fresh From the Farm book talk at Old Sturbridge Village. Maybe I’ll take one of the pumpkins with me for show and tell!. And while I’m driving, I’ll dream up something else to do with the rest! Though I would definitely make Dorie’s recipe again. Maybe even with a sugar pumpkin.

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