Feasting

Right outside our kitchen window lies all this beauty.  Today, at the table, I am full of gratitude for not just the edible fruits of nature, but for the visual feast as well.  Hope you enjoy!

Crushed

I had such high hopes. When I bought the strawberries and told the vendor at the farmers’ market that I was making jam, he said, “Good timing. Next month will be too late – the weather’s changing and the berries won’t be as sweet then.” He also gave me a deal. Farmers seem to have a literal sweet-spot for jam makers. That’s the second time it’s happened to me this summer!

Then I picked up the rhubarb from the grocery store, since it is way too late for that at the farmers’ market. I needed rhubarb, because I despise strawberry jam. It’s that too, too sticky sweet thing again. Fresh strawberries are to die for, but add sugar and then cook them? You must be kidding me.

So I was going to make strawberry rhubarb jam. Because earlier in the year, while making a rhubarb pie for my mid-western sweetheart, I had tried this sauce recipe with the leftover rhubarb. And I just could not stop eating it! In spite of the fact that it had strawberries and sugar in it, and then it was cooked!

Clearly rhubarb was my key to all things strawberry. So home I went, practically whistling a cooked strawberry tune. (?????)

I found this recipe by a fellow Bay area blogger and went to work. The recipe seemed perfect for me, since it used no pectin and less than the normal amount of sugar. I was a little concerned about the long cooking time, but figured I would just cook it less. I also added an extra 1/2 cup sugar, because he used so little, even for me.

I was also worried that because rhubarb has little natural pectin and strawberries have even less, the jam would never set. So I let the strawberry, rhubarb, lemon, and sugar mixture set for 2 hours, hoping this would help release the pectin into the juice. Then I began cooking it.

And cooking it. And cooking it some more. At 35 minutes, it was still too thin. At 45 minutes, I feared it was still too thin. At about an hour and 5 minutes, I deemed it as ready as it would get. Yes, it set up. Yes, it’s edible. Yes, it’s infinitely more to my taste than plain old strawberry jam. But it’s not spectacular. And, darn it, what’s the point of making jam at home if it’s not spectacular, I ask?

So I folded some into whipped cream. That helped. How could it not? That will be just divine, filling a chocolate biscuit roulade. See how I have to speak, just to console myself about this? I could have simply said filling a chocolate cake roll, but no, not today. Not when my hopes are as crushed as the strawberries in my jam.

Next spring, I have promised myself, I will make spectacular strawberry rhubarb jam. I will make it by using the proportions in the sauce recipe I loved so much. In other words, I will use way more rhubarb in order to make my jam. I’ll keep you posted.

Farmer’s Market Dinner

Serendipity. One of my favorite words. Just saying it makes me happy, the way it rolls off the tongue. And when it actually happens in my life? Well, that’s a big bonus.

Yesterday, I grabbed a bag of arugula at the farmer’s market on a last-minute impulse. Later, at home, I visited a blog I hadn’t gone to in a while. While I was distressed to read all that’s gone on for Jennifer – and got waaaay too caught up in reading about the apparent scoundrel who stole one of her pictures – I also read back a few months in her posts.

And she made me want salad for dinner. And homemade vinaigrette. And I had great ingredients in the house. Wow.

I searched and searched her site for a recipe for even one of the vinaigrettes she mentions making, and she mentions vinaigrettes a lot. But, alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Couldn’t find a one. So, in spite of the fact that I am always disappointed in vinaigrette recipes (too mustardy, too much garlic, too oily, too sweet, too sour, never just right), I googled basic vinaigrette. And I found it. The perfect-for-me vinaigrette.

I really, really should have known. It was a Julia Child recipe. I should have started there years ago. Because it’s perfectly balanced. But I changed it a bit, to be more perfectly balanced for me. Of course. So here’s what I made, what I ate on my perfectly serendipitous salad last night, and what I ate again tonight. I’m sure I will make it a thousand times, and tweak it each time, and that’s the beauty of a basic vinaigrette. Thank you, Julia.

Basic Vinaigrette Dressing
adapted from Julia’s Kitchen Wisdom, by Julia Child

1 clove minced roasted garlic
1/2 tablespoon Dijon mustard
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 tablespoon lemon juice
1 1/2 tablespoon champagne vinegar
1/3 cup really good olive oil
1 tsp minced fresh thyme
1 tsp minced fresh basil
Freshly ground pepper

Shake all ingredients together in a glass jar (no oil added-in-a-slow-stream and whisking forever for me!), taste, and adjust seasonings so that it becomes perfect for you.

Tomato Season!

A couple of days ago, I promised to post pictures of my attempt at Slow Roasted Tomatoes. I am actually amazed that I still have a few left; they were so good that I had a hard time not eating them all, warm from the oven! You simply have to make them! My orange/gold cherry tomatoes worked beautifully. How can you pass on a recipe that turns these:

Into these absurdly sweet and perfectly juicy little bites:

in practically one step???? It doesn’t get any easier than that. Cut them in half, drizzle with olive oil, salt, pepper, fresh herbs if you wish, and pop in a slow oven. Tiny bites of heaven. I have to admit, I was partial to the ones I sprinkled with thyme – note the many olive oil spots on the parchment paper where tomatoes used to reside. I ate that many just while grabbing my camera to take the picture!

Given the amount of cherry tomatoes coming out of my garden, I’ll be doing this a lot in the next few weeks. I can’t wait to toss them with homemade whole wheat pasta, fresh garlic, and a little olive oil and sea salt. I’m sure I’ll use them to top grilled baguette slices that have been spread with goat cheese. And, most likely, if I don’t eat each and every one all by myself, I’ll pack some in jars as a sweet summer gift for friends and neighbors.

Glorious Garden

A few short weeks ago, I made a trip down to our garden plot with my son. We carried the plants you see here; we had started them from seeds a few weeks earlier. I knew it was pretty ridiculous to plant summer squash and cucumber plants at the beginning of August, but the growing season here is long, and I’m such an optimist about these things. Besides, the seeds hadn’t cost much, and I figure they are a science lesson made real for Miles (my son), even if they don’t produce a darned thing before it turns cold. (Yes, I am aware that according to some people, this part of California never even gets chilly enough to use that word cold, but vegetable plants tend to disagree.)

I mentioned a while back that I had a fixer garden plot. Here’s the story: when we returned to California from Texas, and I walked by the community garden, a few plots appeared neglected. This was in stark contrast to the last time (3 years ago) that I applied for a plot and there was a waiting list. A phone call and visit to the parks and rec department later, and I was the oh-so-proud renter of a plot. Not just any plot, however, because this is me we’re talking about here. I seldom choose the easy route. Out of 4 available plots, I picked the one that needed to be rebuilt. Yup. Rotting out. Falling apart. Calling my name. Volunteer tomato and potato plants crying out for love. You should have heard me. Honnneeeeeyyyy, puhleeezzzeee? The other plots might not get enough winter sun because of the large trees nearby, and this one, well, it’s trying so hard to grow things even without an owner. Will you puhleeeezzzeee help me rebuild it????

So it took a while to get that little project done. And we hadn’t even moved back to California until the first week of June. And so there we were, my son and I, planting little hopeful and incredibly late plants in August. But look how they’ve grown already! My ever optimistic (except when I’m not, and then it’s bad, very, very bad around here) self thinks we might have a squash or two by October!

Not to mention those volunteer tomatoes – look at what I saw peeking out today! Can there be any better thanks for our hard work hauling lumber during that unbelievable hot spell we had earlier this summer?

We took home that red one, as well as about 5 pounds of smaller golden cherry tomatoes, which by tomorrow will be turned into these. I can’t wait. I’ll take pictures. Promise.

Golden and Delicious

A few weeks ago, I read a post at Smitten Kitchen about a recipe for potato and summer squash torte. Okay, I thought, now that’s something I would never ever try without an endorsement from someone I trust. I mean, really, watery summer squash baked with creamy potatoes and cheese? What was someone thinking???? All that liquid surely ruining a good thing? But I was intrigued, because I trust Deb. Not trust with capital letters, yet, but certainly a tentative lowercase trust. So of course I had to try it, especially since the owner of a neighboring garden plot was on vacation and had asked others to water in exchange for vegetables. I was therefore the lucky recipient of some yellow crookneck squash for an extra few minutes spent in the community garden!

I popped outside to grab some fresh thyme from the pot on my deck and got to work. And it was so worth it. Nothing watery at all. Just creamy goodness, but somehow better (dare I say less-heavy, in a really good, melt-in-your-mouth way?) than if the squash hadn’t been included. It’s a recipe I won’t soon forget. I did make it in my cast iron skillet, as you can see, and it cooked in the amount of time specified in the recipe. I cut the potatoes by hand, and it wasn’t that hard to make the thin slices, though I fretted it would be. Yum!

Love, Actually

Backyard Blackberries

I must confess that I’ve fallen in love again . . . this time with a tart jam I just made. And for someone who considers herself a foodie, I have another confession: I don’t even know the variety of plum I used in this jam! Last week, as an I was on my way back to the car with my impatient son and I just remembered I wanted to make plum jam – please don’t whine – I’ll be super fast stop at an unknown vendor’s stand at the farmer’s market, I grabbed some very large dark purple, but otherwise nondescript plums.

Then, when I got home and cut one open, I found a lightly perfumed hard white interior. I don’t know what I was expecting, really, but it wasn’t that. I’m spoiled by extremely juicy and fragrant nectarines and peaches I buy at the farmer’s markets I frequent. I had hoped for something that essentially screamed RIPE PLUM as the skin opened. So I waited a few days before making jam while I thought about the three pounds of plums sitting on my counter. And I went into the backyard and picked as many ripe blackberries as I could wrestle from the thorny brambles that grow in one corner. And I decided to make blackberry plum jam. I figured the blackberries would lend a gorgeous color and rich flavor, which it seemed the plums lacked.

Now a disclaimer: I detest sickly sweet jams, and have avoided eating jam most of my life because of this. I also dislike the jelled consistency of most of them. Even though I made many jellies and jams years ago, I never ate them. They were just given away as holiday gifts. I made all of them from the standard pectin box recipes and from canning cookbook recipes. Sad though it may be, I never, ever considered altering the recipes to suit my taste. I never even considered I could like jam at all. Until I read Molly Wizenberg’s recipe for berry jam in the June 2008 issue of Bon Appetit. She, once again, single-handedly changed my life. No overstatement there at all. Something about her description of how simple and delicious pectin-free jam making could be made me drag my sorry behind down underneath the house to retrieve my ancient metal canning pot. She made me want to like jam! So a month ago, I made apricot jam using her recipe, which is simply apricots, sugar, and lemon, period. Then I made a second batch using lime instead of lemon, and I went crazy for the tart, fresh taste. I was hooked.

This time, I looked for pectin-less blackberry plum jam recipes on the internet, but gave up and decided to simply adapt Molly’s recipe. (She hadn’t listed plums as an option for her recipe, so I was worried it wouldn’t set well or something.) The recipe that follows is one part adaptation, one part necessity, and one part miracle. The miracle is that it produced the most perfect jam for me: tart, richly flavored, and perfectly, softly spreadable. (Please follow regular canning instructions found all over the web or here at Epicurious, where Molly’s recipe resides. Actually, it’s from a friend of a friend of Molly’s, but that’s how recipes are, aren’t they? You can also simply freeze the jam, which I have never tried, or refrigerate for up to 2 weeks. This recipe made five delicious 1/2 pints.)

Blackberry Plum Jam

2 1/4 pounds nondescript plums

8 ounces blackberries

2 1/2 cups sugar

2 TBSN lemon juice

Pit and quarter the plums. Toss them with the blackberries, the sugar, and the lemon juice in a large bowl and let sit for 2 hours. Prepare canning jars as per canning instructions. Transfer fruit mixture to a large pot and bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally. Use a potato masher to smash the fruit chunks. Reduce heat to medium and gently boil for 35 minutes, stirring often. At this point, take a metal spoon and dip it in the mixture. Hold it over the pot, let it drip a moment to cool, and then run your finger down the back of the spoon, through the mixture. If your finger leaves a clear path on the spoon, the jam has cooked enough. Otherwise, cook for 10 more minutes and try the test again. (I swear, I can NEVER, EVER get the other tests – frozen plates, drops sheeting off the spoon, to work for me, and my jam ALWAYS turns out just fine!) Once cooked, spoon into prepared jars and process according to jam canning instructions.

Sunday, Sunday

A Perfect Cup

Sometimes, the simplest things make me so happy.  How often does your steamed milk make a perfect spiral in your coffee on a Sunday morning?