Category Archives: Edible

Baby Kale, Avocado & Radish Salad—Susie’s Pink & Green #9

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photo-40Lately I have been obsessing about this Red Russian kale we are growing in the hoop house. I feel kind of silly, as it isn’t exactly a new thing—other farmers on the Island have been growing this variety and harvesting it young for a few years now. But I finally got around to planting a thick carpet of it (in order to harvest it as baby greens), and my, oh, my, is it tickling my fancy. It’s beautiful, yes. But tender, too. And almost sweet. (Even Roy likes it!) Which means now I have no business being cranky about kale salads. (I have come around on this, and even have a kale salad in Fresh from the Farm, but I am still not big on thick chewy mature kale leaves in salads—massaged, or not.)

I do think the hoop house kale is particularly tender, because it grows fast in those lovely conditions and doesn’t have to toughen up to the elements outside. But Red Russian kale is so delicious young, that I’d say, hoop house or not, rush out and buy yourself a packet of seeds and dump some in a pot of soil right now. In 28 days you’ll have a tender kale salad.

(If you live in Texas, maybe wait until fall’s cooler weather at this point.)

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DSC_4738Also, as most of you know, I am obsessed with the color pink. And this year we’re growing French Breakfast and Cherry Belle radishes in the hoop house, and they are nearly big enough to pull. Nearly big enough, yes. But since I am the boss, I get to pull them up whenever I want to.

In fact, since I realized I was heading towards yet another variation on a “pink and green” salad for my lunch today, I thought, “I’m going to put whatever I want in this salad!” So in went avocado, a few toasted pecans, a little blue cheese, and a drizzle of Perky’s Vinaigrette. Honestly, for your own variation, you could put just about anything you like in with that baby kale and it would be lovely.

DSC_4789If I sound like I am being obstinate, it’s because I have to go traveling again this week and am wishing I could just stay home and keep working outside until dark like Roy and I have been doing every night this week. (I’m not kidding, it really is satisfying.) But off I go so I’m having one last pink and green salad for the week.

 

DSC_4669And speaking of pink, we snuck off to get a quick peek at some trees in bloom at Polly Hill Arboretum Sunday afternoon (a stone’s throw from us).

I’d never seen this unusual magnolia, but fell in love with the pink blooms.

Of course.

 

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My Potato Farmers, Then and Now

10171130_10203818806489450_6846942003228336987_nMy mother took a lot (I mean, a lot) of photos of us growing up. We complained. Kids often do.

I have turned into my mother, of course.

My favorite (human) subjects are Roy and Libby. So far, Libby has been an incredibly good sport about this. However, you may notice that there are not many pictures of Roy straight on. That’s because he makes a funny face every time I try to take his picture. So I usually have to catch him doing something (which is really the way I prefer to photograph people anyway).

But this weekend he reached out to put his arm around Libby, very proud of the help she’d just given him with planting potatoes. I took a few shots and posted this one (above) on Instagram and Facebook (as I do with some sort of photo almost every day…usually of my other favorite subjects—food, plants, or farm detritus). Normally I don’t then use those daily photos on the blog, but this one brought forth such a warm response from so many people (even some I ran into in the grocery store!) that I thought I’d share it here with folks who don’t see those sites.

And because, in my ongoing surprise at how time flies, I realize this is my second favorite Roy-and-Libby-with-potatoes photo. The first (the pink bucket photo below) was taken in our first market garden in 2010. (Funny how Roy’s face is missing from that photo!) As I mentioned last week, this is now our fifth year of doing this—unbelievable.

Libby Riley, potato harvest

IMG_7017I looked back at the spring potato planting photos from that year, and sure enough, Libby was helping Dad. Right from the start, potato planting was a father-daughter thing. (Though in the beginning, Libby certainly wasn’t wielding the knife as she did this time to cut the potato seed up.)

Maybe this is because Roy wants to pass along a little Irish heritage to Libby. Or maybe it’s because potatoes are Roy and Libby’s favorite vegetable. But more likely it is because the big potatoes are an easy thing for kids to plant.

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Whatever the reason, this year the potato thing is out of control. Due to an ordering snafu, we are going to wind up with double the amount of potato seed we were supposed to have (which was much more than last year in the first place!). This small field (below) that Roy and Libby planted over the weekend ate up just a fraction of that seed. And Roy has already planted 300 more feet of potatoes out in the new big field. Not sure where the rest is going to go, but if you’re a farm stand customer, stand by for Red Golds, Red Thumb Fingerlings, French Fingerlings, and German Butterballs. Lots of ‘em!

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Even though it was a grey and chilly weekend, we stubbornly followed up our farm work on Sunday with a trip to get ice cream and a walk on the beach. Libby is a good sport about both photos and farm work (she also helped me plant more seeds in the hoop house), but we always want to do something fun (off-farm fun) when she’s with us, too.

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When we got to the beach, she immediately took her shoes off and started running about, teasing the surf, scooping up rock finds, doing a full-body sand-plant, chasing Farmer. I took pictures, of course. Later at home, looking at one of these (right) and at some photos I took of her the very first day I met her in 2009 (left), I realized that though she may be turning into a lovely young lady, she’s still a beach girl, through and through. Lots of traditions are worth keeping—even that one where the mom takes too many photos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Serious Spring Planting: It Isn’t Pretty; but It Is Pretty Exciting

DSC_4391While some folks celebrated the Easter weekend with egg hunts and sunrise services and delicious dinners, Roy and I planted. And planted. And planted.

Finally the spring window has opened up and the clock has begun to tick: Get the cool weather crops in now or you won’t have anything come Memorial Day…or your first potatoes won’t be ready for Fourth of July…or your greens will suffer in the June heat before you’ve gotten what you’ve wanted out of them.

This is the start of our fifth season growing and selling vegetables. It’s a big year for us, as we now have more than double the amount of vegetable growing area we’ve ever had in years past. Thanks to the “back four” (our version of the back forty) that  we leased to put the 500 chickens on, we’ve also carved out more space for veggies.

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We’ve spent the last year prepping a nice new 100’ x 100’ field in that back area (photo above and top), which will be the home to 100’ rows of tomatoes, eggplants, peppers, beans, and potatoes—all of which are moving out of the market garden to leave me lots of room for lettuce, carrots, flowers, etc. The soil in that field, though rocky, is rich and fertile. Best of all, since Roy has been hot-composting large amounts of chicken manure since last summer (turning over with the tractor every so often), we now have a great supply of composted manure to juice things up.

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Also, having rotated some of the chickens into a new pen a few months ago, we will have another 80 x 80 foot bonus area (photo above) ready to use (the soil is nearly black) before too long (most likely for squash). With the hoop house, the market garden, and a few other miscellaneous spots, that gives us about a half-acre of veg cultivation (not including berry bushes here and there—and more coming.). Based on what we’ve been able to do in past years with a small amount of space, we’re hoping for a great year. Of course there will be drought and crop failure and probably a plague of locusts. And most definitely a hurricane or two. But why not think positive at this point? Spring is all about hope, after all.

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DSC_4300Roy started in the back by planting two 100-foot rows of potatoes (more on the way), and trying out our new Earthway Seeder to quickly lay down four 100’ rows of arugula, two of kale, and one of chard on one end of the new field. I had too many onions to plant them all in the market garden so some went down next to the arugula. I started planting out flats of lettuce and bok choy, and seeded baby turnips, mizuna, mustard, tat soi, and more radishes. (And admired the peas, which have all germinated and are a few inches high.)

Then the challenge was to get the fabric row cover up over all of the greens, which will grow a little faster and stay somewhat protected from pests this way. Roy got more PVC plumbing pipe and we fashioned more hoops, which we hold in place by popping them over small dowels. Then we fought over who got the new Agribon (brand name for row cover, also called Remay) and who had to use the old stuff with the holes in it. This year we are swearing to use only boards, bricks, and rocks to hold the stuff down, as the pins make wicked holes. But the fabric always tears anyway, no matter what you do. This is not a big problem for crops like lettuce that just enjoy the little microclimate under cover, but don’t need protection from the flying pests. But the bok choy and the kale will quickly begin to look like swiss cheese when the little pests get through those rips and tears in the fabric.

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The result is a fairly unattractive sea of white fabric that kind of wrecks the whole concept of spring beauty. But it is satisfying to look at, nonetheless, as it means we’ve got stuff in the ground.

DSC_4384We also resurrected the clothesline this weekend (we spent last summer without it), and Roy finished moving the ducks and the Aracaunas to their new pen in the pine grove (also out in the back four).

The ducks are loving more room to move around, but some of the Aracaunas fly out every day. (The same five birds, actually.)

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Next up is planting out the rest of the lettuce and kale, starting the basil in the hoop house, starting more seedlings for the farm stand, planting carrots, and planting several more rows of potatoes. The work feels good—I’m calling it pitchfork yoga and planting squats. Hurrah for spring!

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Super-Quick “Confetti” Greens + (Surprise!) Broccoli Leaves

DSC_4266Even if I do not, the hoop house loves this weather. Or I should say the hoop house greens do. They like the cold nights and the many daylight hours of fuzzy sunlight. “Fuzzy” means grey and overcast to me, so I am not so happy about it, especially because it is freakin’ windy here, and the daytime temps haven’t exactly been soaring, so working outside isn’t really pleasant.

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But the greens inside the hoop house don’t have to deal with the wind, and they prefer these overcast days to the super sunny ones when the house gets pot-boiling hot.

DSC_4177It did get hot a few days while I was away; I could tell because some of the greens bolted and flowered. I lopped off most of the flowers (including a few spent mini-broccoli heads) so that the greens could get their energy back and keep growing. In the process, I discovered that the flowers are delicious (especially the kale flowers), which I kept nibbling.

I’m not really sure, since I’ve never overwintered this many different kinds of greens in a hoop house, but I think the kale and collards may be flowering because the plants are aging and/or because of the day length, in addition to the heat.

But mostly, it has been cool and perfect for the greens, so the leaves are unbelievably tasty—nutty and sweet, not at all bitter. The broccoli leaves are my favorite—I can’t imagine why they aren’t sold in grocery stores or at farmers’ markets (maybe they are somewhere!). Harvested young and tender, they need absolutely no prep before tossing in the stir-fry pan.

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None of this I would have known if I hadn’t finally taken advantage of the hoop house to plant broccoli and collards, which I normally avoid due to the cabbage pests out in the garden.

But here’s the good news—you don’t have to have a garden or a hoop house to do what I’ve been doing with the greens lately: Cooking the quickest side dish in the history of Vegetables-Meet-Fire. The secret is simply rolling your leaves up and slicing them across very thinly with a sharp knife. The slicing takes care of any tough fibers and the resulting “ribbons” cook in a heartbeat. I’ve often done this with mature collards in the past, but you can do it with any leafy veg.

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To get started, you can follow the basic recipe that I wrote for Fast, Fresh & Green (and updated slightly), below. I often just go with garlic and red pepper flakes, so the vinegar/honey/parm combo is optional here. But you could try finishing with sesame oil, soy sauce and sesame seeds or with lemon and minced capers or olives—whatever you like.

The greens also make a nice bed for fish (or lamb—it is Easter I realize!), a good addition to pasta dishes or frittatas, a nice pizza or tart topping, and an interesting fold-in to mashed potatoes or slow-sauteed root veggies like carrots and turnips.

Speaking of Easter, if you need asparagus side dish ideas, click here for a my favorite braised asparagus recipe, here for a nice saute, and here for roasting and grilling directions. Oh, and here for a nice asparagus bread pudding brunch recipe and here for asparagus bisque!

DSC_4277Super-Quick Sautéed Greens,“Confetti”- Style

I love using my large nonstick stir-fry pan for this and for so many things, but a large nonstick skillet works fine. Just crank up the heat so that the greens cook very quickly.

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½ teaspoon sherry vinegar (optional)

½ teaspoon honey (optional)

½ large bunch collard greens, broccoli leaves or kale

1 to 2 tablespoons vegetable, peanut, grapeseed, or olive oil

1 teaspoon minced garlic

Big pinch crushed red pepper

½ teaspoon kosher salt, more to taste

Shaved or coarsely grated Parmigiano-Regianno (optional)

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Combine the sherry vinegar and honey in a small bowl (if using).

Remove the leaves from their stems by holding the stem with one hand and pulling the leaves away from it with the other. Rip the leaves completely in half lengthwise. You should yield about 4 ounces greens. Rinse the leaves and dry them well. Stack them up on top of each other, roll them up tightly cigar-style, and, using a very sharp knife, slice them across into very thin ribbons (about 1/8-inch wide).

In a large (12-inch) nonstick skillet or nonstick stir-fry pan, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the garlic and red pepper flakes and cook until the garlic is softened and fragrant, 15 to 30 seconds. Add the sliced greens and the salt, and juke the heat up a bit so that the pan stays pretty hot. Cook, stirring to incorporate everything in the pan, until the greens turn bright green (at first) and then a darker green and are somewhat wilted, about 1 minute (do not cook much longer or they will begin to toughen). Remove the pan from the heat and taste. Stir in the vinegar/honey mixture if using, and serve right away, garnished with the Parmigiano if you like.

Serves 2

 

Coming Home, By the Numbers

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Eight days, seven flights, six airports and five presentations later, I am home.

Despite the scary numbers, it was a good trip, mostly because I saw a lot of old friends. And also, because, well, I didn’t pass out or throw up or otherwise get too anxious before speaking in front of large numbers of people! I am learning to relax.

Oh, and I also signed and sold lots of copies of Fresh from the Farm, so I did my job.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch (er, farm), Roy collected, washed, packaged and sold something like 2500 eggs. And fed, watered and cooped the 500 hens, of course. He also picked up our order of seed potatoes—100 pounds total.

And today I planted 500 onion starts that have been lying in wait on a cool floor upstairs (they arrived the day I left) – only about 700 more to plant tomorrow. (I think we doubled, like, every order this year. What’s a few hundred more?)

In the hoop house, 1500 seedlings greeted me. All very happy with this new temperate (relatively speaking) weather. And the overwintered lettuce and spinach (250 heads maybe) had gone bonkers—lush and lovely.

Well, speaking of numbers, I have three (3) magazine deadlines to meet, now that I am back, so I am keeping this blog short.

Here are a couple photo highlights from the trip, for those of you who aren’t doing the Face Book or Instagram thing!

10250165_10203673916947302_5060570121561797347_n My first glimpse of the Rocky Mountains from the car as we headed to Zone 4 Magazine’s “Plant to Plate” conference at Chico Hot Springs Resort in Pray, Montana.

10251908_10203683097736816_6683018090588025967_n I snuck in an early morning walk before the conference began.

1794668_10203676526772546_7213614658514022282_nAnd again the next morning…

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Then it was off to my 30th reunion at Duke University in Durham, North Carolina. The Chapel is the focus of West Campus.

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Glimpses of spring at Duke.

10246345_10203691366903540_9121335416286576095_n My freshman dorm room!

carolyn and bench picmonkeyTwo highlights: Left, my college room mate, Carolyn Kates Brown, holding my book while I hold her new book, a wonderful biography of Eudora Welty called “A Daring Life;” right, one of the many efforts Dan and Andra Spurr made to offer fun, goodies, and know-how to Plant-to-Plate attendees in Montana.

Counting my blessings on all my fingers! (At least the ones that don’t smell like onions…)

 

 

 

 

Farm Eggs+Spring Greens= Green Island Farm Egg Sandwich

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When I’m away from the farm, one of the things I miss most are our delicious eggs. (Well, I miss the egg farmer, too.) So as I leave today for a week, I’m indulging myself and posting one of my favorite egg recipes from Fresh from the Farm: A Year of Recipes and Stories. It’s a glorious open-faced egg sandwich, meant to challenge you to find as many local ingredients as you can when you put it (or something similar inspired by it!) together. (Recipe below.) In addition to the eggs, locally baked bread, local bacon, and Massachusetts-made cheddar, I also toss in a few of our own early Asian greens like mizuna and tat soi and drizzle with some honey gathered just up the road.

Since I’ve lately become seduced by Instagram, and one of my favorite subjects is our eggs, I thought I’d collect those eggy still-lifes and post them here as well. (You can see my daily Instagram photos here on sixburnersue.com as well, on the home page and at the bottom of the sidebar at right.)

Now, while I’m away, I only have to pop over to the blog to visit our eggs!

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The wash room. Roy does this twice a day. No joke.

 

photo-13 Hate to scramble this; it’s so lovely.

 

photo-16 This was our first duck egg.

 

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This morning Roy put out the chalkboard sign to market his duck eggs.

 

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Twelve minutes.

 

Note:  Lovely sandwich photo at top taken by Alexandra Grablewski and styled by Michael Pederson for Fresh from the Farm.

Green Island Farm Open-Faced Egg Sandwich                                        with Local Bacon, Cheddar & Asian Greens  

I love this sophisticated take on a breakfast sandwich, because it’s possible to include so many local ingredients in it. These open-faced sandwiches are a bit like giant crostini, so eat them out of hand and eat them right away!

Serves 4

4 slices bacon, preferably local

Four 3/4-inch slices peasant bread (from an oblong loaf) or challah bread (either way, pieces should be around 2 1/2 inches x 5 inches in diameter)

1 tablespoon plus 2 teaspoons unsalted butter, softened

2 to 2 1/2 ounces aged sharp Cheddar cheese  or any good local or regional semi-hard cheese, sliced thinly (about 10 to 12 small slices total)

4 fresh, local large eggs, preferably at room temperature

1 tablespoon heavy cream

Kosher salt

Freshly ground black pepper

1 to 2 teaspoons tender herb leaves (such as chives, chervil, cilantro, or parsley) or chive blossoms, plus 4 small tender sprigs or edible flowers for garnish (optional)

12 to 16 mizuna leaves (or other baby greens such as mustard, tat soi, arugula, or kale)

Honey, preferably local, for drizzling

Sea salt (optional)

Cook the bacon using your favorite method and drain on paper towels. Snap each piece in half so that you have 8 shorter strips of cooked bacon.

Arrange an oven rack 6 inches from the broiler and heat the broiler to high. Put the bread slices on a baking sheet and toast lightly. Turn the slices over, spread the untoasted sides with about 1 tablespoon of the butter, and put the baking sheet back under the broiler. Broil until the tops are golden brown. Arrange the cheese slices on top of the bread and broil until just beginning to melt.

Meanwhile, in a medium (10-inch) nonstick skillet, heat the remaining 2 teaspoons butter over medium heat. In a bowl, whisk together the eggs, cream, a generous pinch of salt, and a few grinds of pepper. Stir in the herb leaves or chive blossoms. When the butter has melted and is foaming, pour in the egg mixture. Let it sit until the edges start to set and then, using a silicone spatula, gently pull the edges of the egg toward the center, letting uncooked egg run underneath (tilting the pan if necessary). Continue to cook the egg this way, gradually gathering the soft folds of eggs together into a rough circle, about 6 to 7 inches around. (This is really just scrambled eggs with a little less scrambling.) When the eggs are mostly set, flip (use the spatula to divide the eggs in half first for easier flipping) and let the bottom side cook and brown up a bit. Transfer the egg to a cutting board and cut into four portions.

Arrange a few mizuna leaves on each of the bread pieces and top with a portion of egg. Top each with 2 pieces of bacon, another leaf or two of mizuna, and the herb sprig or flowers(if using). Drizzle all with honey, sprinkle with a little sea salt if desired, cut each piece in half, and serve right away.

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Mizuna is the spiky green; tat soi is also known as “spoon cabbage.”

 

Lovely Afternoon Light for Pea Planting with the Farm Dog

DSC_3963And so it all begins. The outdoor work, I mean. There is daylight enough for me to sneak in some garden time before a late supper, after I release myself from the office and the computer and the deadlines imposed by more travel coming.

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Farmer and I spent a lovely hour or two in the leaf-strewn garden (the leaves were our winter mulch for the beds) planting peas and moving a few odd winter greens around.

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We dawdled in the hoop house, too, finally warm and dreamy after days of cloud cover and chilling winds. Farmer is an excellent garden companion.

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Naturally I brought my camera along, mostly because I find it so interesting to look back at the stark reality of early April when August comes around. And vice-versa—I’ve been deep into my photo archives this week putting together three different Power Point presentations. Looking at all those pints of cherry tomatoes and bunches of zinnias not only reminds me that we do actually manage to grow a lot of food, but that warm (truly warm) days will come again.

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On an early April day, objects that will later fade into the summer collage now pop out in relief.

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DSC_3939DSC_3990 Even not-so-pretty objects look better in early spring.

I could do without the constant fiddling with Remay (the fabric row cover that keeps pests and a little bit of chill off early greens) this time of year, but getting my boots tangled up in it and stabbing myself occasionally with the fabric staples (in the very top photo) is surely a whole lot better than being inside staring at frozen, snow-speckled ground. If early April is what I’ve got, I’ll take it!

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Throwback Thursday: How to Cook a Baby Artichoke . . . Plus Post-Blizzard Travels with Susie

artichoke blog 1Apparently, there is a “glut” of artichokes in California right now. I love that word, “glut.” It has a nice thwack to it; plus it must be derived from the best of the seven deadly sins, gluttony.

So we’re very happy for California. (Note, there is no cynical tone in my voice. I just couldn’t be more thrilled that here on the East Coast—actually, one of the very most Eastern parts of the East Coast—we had a blizzard yesterday. Whee! Certainly Farmer enjoyed it.) Honestly, we are happy because we know that California will be sending some of these artichokes our way very soon. They’d better, lest we have to travel out there and get them ourselves.

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Meanwhile, I have been trolling through old photos and blogs to put together two presentations for my next travels (more on that in a minute). And I came across these baby artichokes (top) and my favorite method for cooking them (see recipe below). I’m hoping the “glut” includes baby artichokes, because I could eat a plate of these for lunch right now. Baby artichokes are really easy to prepare and so delicious. While we’re waiting (I just visited the Ocean Mists website—lots of good info there—and discovered that babies may be a few weeks away), you can get some excellent ideas for using standard-sized artichokes from Russ Parsons, Food editor of the LA Times. Here’s his recent piece that includes 12 artichoke recipes. (I want to make the fries!). And, as always, FineCooking.com comes to the rescue with more than two dozen artichoke recipes to browse through.

roy artichoke

I know a lot of you who read the blog actually live in California, so just to be clear—I love you! But now I’m going to focus on Montana. And North Carolina. Yup, in a week or so, I’ll be traveling to Montana to participate in Zone 4 Magazine’s spring Plant to Plate event at Chico Hot Springs Resort. I can’t wait! I’m going to do a cool tip demo and give a talk about how to cook all kinds of veggies—from baby bok choy to Swiss chard to beets. Plus a little Fresh from the Farm storytelling.

When I’m not on deck, I’m going to be sneaking around to observe all the cool growing seminars on things like grafting tomatoes, building a green house, and growing fruit trees. If you live in the area, I believe there are still a few tickets left (call 406-586-8540; dates are April 8 and 9.) I can assure you that it is going to be an awesome event, as Dan and Andra Spurr, the Editor and Publisher of Zone 4 Magazine, are old friends from our days together at Sailing World and Cruising World magazines, and they are super-organized and on the ball.

From Montana I fly directly to North Carolina for my 30th (yes 30th!) reunion at Duke University, where I am honored to be a featured speaker on Friday, April 11. I’m going to tell the story of my “career change” and how Fresh from the Farm came to be! It should be gorgeous in Durham by then—I’ll get to enjoy a real spring for once. I only wish Roy and Libby were going to be with me, but it’s just too much time away from farm and school this time. And I am certainly hoping I won’t be flying through any blizzards on this adventure.

But before I go, I have a few seedlings to tend to, some peas to plant, and some artichokes to track down.

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Brown-Braised Baby Artichokes with Lemon Herb Pan Sauce

Serve these over creamy polenta or a small serving of fresh fettucine for a lovely veggie supper. For a variation, cook a little bacon, ham or pancetta in the pan before cooking the artichokes; remove and crumble on at the end. Toasted almonds or hazelnuts would be good with these too. Baby artichokes vary in size—I have seen the same size box packed with 9 artichokes sometimes, 12 another. This recipe will work for 9 medium-small baby artichokes (2 to 2 1/2 oz. each). If your artichokes are very small, you can use 10 or 11 of them, as long as they fit in one layer across the bottom of the pan with the shallots. Be generous with the fresh herbs here.

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1 1/2 lemons

9 or 10 baby artichokes

1 1/2 tablespoons unsalted butter

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

4 small shallots, halved and peeled (or 2 medium or large, quartered)

Kosher salt

1 cup low-sodium chicken broth

1 to 2 tablespoons mixed fresh tender spring herbs such as chives, parsley, mint, tarragon and/or chervil

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baby artichoke prep

Cut the whole lemon in half. Squeeze and drop the two halves into a medium bowl filled half-way with water.

Cut the stems off the artichokes at the base. Working with one artichoke at a time, peel away all of the outer leaves until you are left with a mostly lemon-limey colored artichoke (it will be somewhat cone-shaped) with the top third still being a light green. With a sharp knife, cut about 3/4 inch off of the top, and, with a paring knife, clean up the stem end just a bit (don’t remove too much; that’s the tasty heart). Cut the artichoke in half lengthwise. Rub the cut sides of each piece with the other lemon half and drop the artichoke halves into the lemon water.

In a 10-inch straight-sided sauté pan that has a lid, melt 1 tablespoon of the butter with the olive oil over medium heat. Arrange the artichoke halves (with whatever water still clings to them) and the shallot halves (both cut-side down) in one snug layer in the pan. Sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon salt.

Cook, without stirring, until the bottoms of the artichokes and the shallots are well browned, 7 to 8 minutes. (If the heat on your stovetop is uneven—or the burner isn’t level, like mine—rotate the pan so that the bottoms get evenly browned.)

Pour in the chicken broth and cover the pan, leaving the lid slightly askew so that some steam escapes. Simmer gently, turning down the heat if necessary, until the broth is reduced to a few tablespoons, 12 to 14 minutes. Uncover, add the remaining 1/2 tablespoon butter, and squeeze the other lemon half over all.

Sprinkle most of the herbs over and stir gently until the butter has melted. Remove the pan from the heat, and stir again, scraping up any browned bits if possible. Taste for salt and immediately transfer the artichokes and the pan sauce to a serving platter. Sprinkle on any remaining herbs.

Serves 2 as a veggie main dish with polenta or noodles, or 3 as a side dish

 

The Lion and The Lamb

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You can just forget about those beautiful little bok choy seedlings I showed you in last week’s blog. They are, well, dead. As are four of our original hens (the “Ladies”) including Martha, Opti, Sugar, and Oreo—whisked away by a mysterious predator. You know that I usually take the high road in this blog, so, like Forrest Gump, that’s all I have to say about that.

Except for this one other thing: If October is my favorite month, March (especially this one) is my least favorite.

But there is an antidote to this frustration. And I am freely availing myself of it. Quite simply, it’s baby lambs.

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The lambs were all I could think about when I was flying back from Chicago on Monday. I love Chicago—the architecture, the people, the music, the food—and I loved getting to see a lot of my Fine Cooking magazine pals and other old friends at the annual International Association of Culinary Professionals Conference. Heck I even got to listen to the most famous chef in the world, Ferran Adria, and to eat fabulously awesome food at the Girl and the Goat. I navigated the subway to the airport and back without getting lost, managed to pack as light as I ever have—one carry-on bag—and didn’t have too much trouble slipping back into the meet-and-greet mode.

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But it was noisy and over-stimulating and crowded (especially with St. Patrick’s Day revelers tumbling tipsily in and out of the hotel lobby and elevators) and, these days, I’m really not into drama and buzz anymore. In fact, that’s why I originally came to Martha’s Vineyard six years ago (in February, and it just happened to be a lovely sunny winter that year!)—to quiet down my over-stimulated brain.

DSC_3709Wouldn’t you know it, I hadn’t been here a month when I encountered this phenomenon of baby lambs. Not only are they ridiculously cute and fascinating to watch, but they show up all over the Island right about the time little green shoots of chives and grass are popping up. (You know rhubarb and asparagus won’t be far behind.) By the time the daffodils are in bloom, most of the Island lambs have been born. And if you’ve never seen a grassy field of daffodils and frisky lambs, well, you can only imagine how good that is for the soul.

 

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This year (this weekend) Roy and Libby did the first lamb visit without me. We’re lucky to have newborns less than half a mile up the road at Whiting’s Farm. Their mommies are handsome Cheviot sheep, so they’re quite a site all together, munching and snuggling on fresh hay, with the beautiful sheep barn behind them. Roy and Libby gave me the report over the phone on Saturday, and as soon as I could this week, I spun my tires through the mud to get up there and gaze and photograph.

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Soon our friend Liz Packer will have baby brown and black lambs (extra cute), so we have those to look forward to. Since I turn around and go away again in two weeks, I guess I’ll think about Liz’s lambs as a treat waiting for me when I get back. It will be April by then, so good riddance to March. It certainly lived up to its reputation, coming in like a lion. Let’s hear it for going out like a lamb!

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Hope for the Seedlings + Sixburnersue’s Best Cabbage Recipes for St. Patrick’s Day

seedling pic 2Yesterday I was hiding out in the hoop house, pretending that I didn’t have a long list of things to do before getting on a plane tomorrow. It was warm and bright and still inside, the air spritzed with the fine smell of damp potting soil. I could have stayed there for hours, futzing over the hundreds of little baby bok choy seedlings that have popped up in the last week.

We planted the bok choy seeds with the grand scheme of getting an early crop into our south-facing bed along the outside of the hoop house. Roy has been prepping the bed and installing hoops and a plastic cover to warm the soil up for planting. Bok choy can go into 50° soil and by using transplants, you can have a harvest in about a month after transplanting.

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Even though we have the hoop house now, it isn’t heated, so the nighttime temperatures are still pretty chilly in there. (The greens in the raised beds have covers over them.) So we had to germinate the bok choy seeds inside. First, I mixed up the seed starting soil (with water) and spread it in 72-hole flats in the hoop house. Then I carried the flats inside, planted the little tiny seeds, covered the flats with plastic tops, carried them upstairs, and arranged them over the floor of Libby’s bedroom. Then I shut the door to keep the room cool and to keep Barney out.

So you can see, we still do not have a very sophisticated system of seed starting. And, by the way, though Libby’s room was the perfect temperature, and the seeds germinated very evenly, Barney did get in there more than once and pounced on the plastic tops. I think he got in because Farmer nosed the bedroom door open, thinking Libby might be in there.

Still, we’ll call that part successful. However, we’ve then had to carry the flats down to the hoop house every morning—and then back every night. The seedlings grow straight and sturdy in the gauzy overhead sunlight of the hoop house, so you want them there during the day. (Without adequate direct light, seedlings grow leggy and sideways, as most of you probably know. ) And very soon we’ll be able to just pop the plastic tops back on at night and leave them in there. But right now, because of this ridiculous weather (50° yesterday, 25° and snowing today) the flats have to go back inside the house at night. Argh!!

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Anyway, this is certainly not a big problem to be complaining about, and I’m only really recounting this as my way of saying I am oh-so-very-excited about spring coming. (And for making delicious things with bok choy, of course!). When I get back from Chicago, I will plant more flats—of lettuce, spinach, kale, and chard. (That is—IF I get back! I’m supposed to get out of downtown Chicago and to the airport on Monday, and isn’t that St. Patrick’s Day? And isn’t there, like, a fairly large parade in Chicago?! Oh well.)

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Since I won’t be actually here on the Irish holiday, I thought I’d better share my favorite cabbage recipes from Sixburnersue with you today. I’ve never been one for boiled cabbage, so for a simple preparation, I go with something like this Quick-Sautéed Cabbage recipe. For something fancy, there’s always the Savoy Cabbage, Apple, Onion & Gruyere Rustic Tart. But probably my favorite holiday cabbage side dish (with the same flavor profile as the tart, just with potatoes added) is this St. Patrick’s Day Cabbage, Onion Apple & Gruyere Gratin.

I may not get to eat one of these dishes on St. Patrick’s Day this year, but I do have some cabbage to look forward to—I planted some cabbage seeds directly into one of the hoop house beds last fall, and I now have a few tiny cabbage plants starting to form heads. With any luck, I’ll have cabbage on say, May Day! And baby bok choy even sooner. Can’t wait.

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