Summer in Oregon is never really a predictable thing. Sometimes the sun let's us have Easter in sundresses, and sometimes it rains through Memorial Day, the Rose Festival, the first day of summer, the 4th of July, and runs screaming straight into fall.
So, it's no wonder that in my dad's garden, the shelling peas are now reaching maturation, and the garlic spears have finally poked their heads out to say hello. In fact, the entire garden is a mismatch of spring and summer fruits.
No complaints on this end, though. As soon as I can get to picking, I'm going to make a casserole of wild rice, fresh green onions, and garlic scapes. Nevermind that they're a few months late-- what a treat!
Saturday, July 6
Wednesday, June 26
Glazed Black Eyed Peas and Mustard Greens
Today is another market day, but it arrived with markedly less success than last week. Despite (or perhaps, because of) The World's Biggest Pan of Spinach Tion (which I ended up having to eat entirely by myself...) very little of the CSA was used by the time a new one was due. The usual route was taken: kale into chips, radishes into snacks, and big split salads when I was actually home for dinner. But, that still left a GIANT pile of vegetables.
Thus, an epic plan: cook EVERYTHING from last week until I had to pick up today's CSA. The result:
Leek and Green Onion Croutons
Rye Croutons
Balsamic Hazelnut Beets
Whole Wheat Pasta with Swiss Chard and Lemon
Raspberry and Banana Molasses Muffins
Glazed Black Eyed Peas and Mustard Greens
I thought I'd share the final recipe, as it was a big departure from what I usually cook. It's adapted from this recipe and was the result of one of those "Google! Tell me what to do with Mustard Greens!" searches that ended in great success.
Glazed Black Eyed Peas and Mustard Greens
1 can black eyed peas
1 giant bunch of mustard greens
1 sweet onion
1/4c veggie broth
Pinch of Szechuan pepper
Pinch of salt
Balsamic
Soy sauce
Honey
Cook diced onion in veggie broth until translucent and most of the broth is gone. Drain beans, and add everything except greens to pan. Cook on medium high and stir until the beans have just about soaked up the liquid, and what remains is thick. Pour immediately onto a bed of mustard greens.
Alteration: We're not a fan of slimy greens in this house, but if you prefer your greens cooked, wilt the greens with the onions for a few minutes. Empty pan onto dinner plate, and cook everything else in the pan.
Thus, an epic plan: cook EVERYTHING from last week until I had to pick up today's CSA. The result:
Leek and Green Onion Croutons
Rye Croutons
Balsamic Hazelnut Beets
Whole Wheat Pasta with Swiss Chard and Lemon
Raspberry and Banana Molasses Muffins
Glazed Black Eyed Peas and Mustard Greens
I thought I'd share the final recipe, as it was a big departure from what I usually cook. It's adapted from this recipe and was the result of one of those "Google! Tell me what to do with Mustard Greens!" searches that ended in great success.
Glazed Black Eyed Peas and Mustard Greens
1 can black eyed peas
1 giant bunch of mustard greens
1 sweet onion
1/4c veggie broth
Pinch of Szechuan pepper
Pinch of salt
Balsamic
Soy sauce
Honey
Cook diced onion in veggie broth until translucent and most of the broth is gone. Drain beans, and add everything except greens to pan. Cook on medium high and stir until the beans have just about soaked up the liquid, and what remains is thick. Pour immediately onto a bed of mustard greens.
Alteration: We're not a fan of slimy greens in this house, but if you prefer your greens cooked, wilt the greens with the onions for a few minutes. Empty pan onto dinner plate, and cook everything else in the pan.
Thursday, June 20
The False CSA Victory
Today was market day. I was all geared up to write a victory post announcing an accomplishment a full year in the making: finishing a CSA box before the next one arrives.
Then I discovered the bundle of turnip greens.
We turned kale into chips and leeks into croutons. Radishes became snacks and strawberries became dessert. Bok choy found a home in a Peri Peri fried pasta, and three bundles of spinach found their way into a barley tion. A full market share--supposedly for a family of four-- became sustenance for the two of us for an entire week. Nothing went wasted, nothing left behind.
Except turnip greens.
I swear I wasn't putting them off; there were just so many familiar vegetables to play with that I didn't take the time to stop and think on what to do with turnip greens. I ate so many (so. many.) of their bulbs this winter, but have never actually partook of their dense, light-colored leaves. In fact, these greens actually came to me as "mystery greens," and I had to admit to the farmers that I didn't recognize that bundle of food! A week later, there's a little yellowing, but otherwise the greens look perfectly good. So what now?
(1) Rip into small pieces and put into a salad, even though the leaves are a bit thick for my taste.
(2) Cut into ribbons and add to a fried pasta-- though I have no idea how I'd begin to season it!
(3) Dehydrate into chips. If the chips taste bad, grind into powder for soup or smoothie.
Nothing gone to waste, right?
Then I discovered the bundle of turnip greens.
We turned kale into chips and leeks into croutons. Radishes became snacks and strawberries became dessert. Bok choy found a home in a Peri Peri fried pasta, and three bundles of spinach found their way into a barley tion. A full market share--supposedly for a family of four-- became sustenance for the two of us for an entire week. Nothing went wasted, nothing left behind.
Except turnip greens.
I swear I wasn't putting them off; there were just so many familiar vegetables to play with that I didn't take the time to stop and think on what to do with turnip greens. I ate so many (so. many.) of their bulbs this winter, but have never actually partook of their dense, light-colored leaves. In fact, these greens actually came to me as "mystery greens," and I had to admit to the farmers that I didn't recognize that bundle of food! A week later, there's a little yellowing, but otherwise the greens look perfectly good. So what now?
(1) Rip into small pieces and put into a salad, even though the leaves are a bit thick for my taste.
(2) Cut into ribbons and add to a fried pasta-- though I have no idea how I'd begin to season it!
(3) Dehydrate into chips. If the chips taste bad, grind into powder for soup or smoothie.
Nothing gone to waste, right?
Wednesday, June 19
Why not?
I've always worried that blogging was, well... a little presumptuous. To be fair, it's presumptuous just like any other type of internet sharing--Facebook statuses, Twitter feeds, Pinterest links, Instagram photos-- but the whole idea of sharing your life on the internet requires a big assumption: that anyone is interested. It's assuming that your diary is scandalous enough to be read, your recipes are unique enough to be published, and your inner critic is worthy of a column. I'd like to think I'm a little more humble than that.
And yet, I read blogs ALL the time. I adore all the desserts from Sprinkle Bakes, Baker's Royale, and Bakingdom. Not Martha always has the best PNW-related links. And between Oh My Veggies, and Poor Girl Eats Well... I eat well, too! Even The Urban Farmer's Almanac, which doesn't receive a whole lot of time, is always worth perusing when it's updated.
So why not really blog? At the very least, I'll have an archive of my own discoveries!
And yet, I read blogs ALL the time. I adore all the desserts from Sprinkle Bakes, Baker's Royale, and Bakingdom. Not Martha always has the best PNW-related links. And between Oh My Veggies, and Poor Girl Eats Well... I eat well, too! Even The Urban Farmer's Almanac, which doesn't receive a whole lot of time, is always worth perusing when it's updated.
So why not really blog? At the very least, I'll have an archive of my own discoveries!
Tuesday, August 30
Cooking Light Bastardization Episode 2
It's hot outside.
If you don't relish the idea of being buck naked in the kitchen, you should probably make these tasty, no-cook fajitas. It's all the glory of a cold soup... without being a disgusting, cold soup. This looks like a simple list of obvious ingredients, but you won't believe how new, complex, and refreshing it adds up to be.
No-Cook Summertime Fajhitas
Corn tortillas
Avocado
Bell Pepper
Black beans
Fresh ear of corn
Spread however many tortillas you want on a big platter. Drain and rinse the black beans, if they're canned. Scoop a small amount onto each tortilla. Slice thin, long slices of avocado and pepper onto each one as well. Grab a serrated knife, and un-cob small rows of corn onto each pile. Eat naked.
If you don't relish the idea of being buck naked in the kitchen, you should probably make these tasty, no-cook fajitas. It's all the glory of a cold soup... without being a disgusting, cold soup. This looks like a simple list of obvious ingredients, but you won't believe how new, complex, and refreshing it adds up to be.
No-Cook Summertime Fajhitas
Corn tortillas
Avocado
Bell Pepper
Black beans
Fresh ear of corn
Spread however many tortillas you want on a big platter. Drain and rinse the black beans, if they're canned. Scoop a small amount onto each tortilla. Slice thin, long slices of avocado and pepper onto each one as well. Grab a serrated knife, and un-cob small rows of corn onto each pile. Eat naked.
Tuesday, August 23
Cooking Light Bastardization Episode 1
Welcome to the Cooking Light Bastardization Series!
My beloved best friend recently gifted me a subscription to Cooking Light. Which is awesome. Unlike cookbooks, which have a finite number of recipes I can completely change, Cooking Light delivers well over a hundred virgin recipes each month. My pen and my wrath are glorious.
But seriously, the magazine is bursting with culinary joy, and I won't let Not-Having-That-One-Ingredient-Syndrome stop me. Or the fact that I'm a vegetarian while these editors just love licking their hunks of meat. So, as a way to kick-off actually working on this blog I thought up a long time ago, I'm kicking off a little mini-series in conjunction. We'll start with what was supposed to be Stir-Fried Chinese Egg Noodles.
Dreamy Take-Out Noodles
/As in, what you always wish they tasted like when you break down and ordered them/
1 pkg fresh yakisoba noodles, or al-dente ramen if you're on a super-budget
1 cup green beans snapped into smaller pieces (Get them from the garden! 'Tis the season!)
2 cups chopped cabbage
1/4 cup soy sauce
3 tbsp sesame oil
3 tbsp minced garlic
1 tbsp sriracha
1 tbsp ketchup
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 small lime, juiced (muddle the peels in your ice water, you'll need it in this heat.)
If you're tempted to leave out anything, DO IT. Just don't leave out the sesame oil. Ever. It's one of my few golden ingredients. Anyway, throw everything except the noodles into a pan, and crank it up to medium-high. The concoction will start to boil, what with the cellular structure of the cabbage breaking down. When the cabbage is on it's knees, but there's still a lot of liquid, throw in the noodles. If you've been slacking, start paying attention now, since the noodles will soak it all up fast. Once the liquid is gone, continue to pan-fry for 1 minute for texture. If you haven't already eaten it all, you can throw in 2 eggs for protein. Just be sure to coat all of it very thoroughly and stir constantly.
Please be warned that this dish is bold, even for my kitchen. There's an awful lot of tang, and the brown sugar only barely takes the edge off. This is why it's awesome. Subtlety is for take-out noodles, which always sound horribly amazing, and then turn out to be plain noodles with a few pieces of wilted vegetables hidden at the bottom. If you need something more takeout-y, skip the soy sauce and stir fry everything together. Or, if you just feel like a little less 'zing,' replace about half the soy sauce with sweet orange marmalade. I'll give you points if you beat me to it!
My beloved best friend recently gifted me a subscription to Cooking Light. Which is awesome. Unlike cookbooks, which have a finite number of recipes I can completely change, Cooking Light delivers well over a hundred virgin recipes each month. My pen and my wrath are glorious.
But seriously, the magazine is bursting with culinary joy, and I won't let Not-Having-That-One-Ingredient-Syndrome stop me. Or the fact that I'm a vegetarian while these editors just love licking their hunks of meat. So, as a way to kick-off actually working on this blog I thought up a long time ago, I'm kicking off a little mini-series in conjunction. We'll start with what was supposed to be Stir-Fried Chinese Egg Noodles.
Dreamy Take-Out Noodles
/As in, what you always wish they tasted like when you break down and ordered them/
1 pkg fresh yakisoba noodles, or al-dente ramen if you're on a super-budget
1 cup green beans snapped into smaller pieces (Get them from the garden! 'Tis the season!)
2 cups chopped cabbage
1/4 cup soy sauce
3 tbsp sesame oil
3 tbsp minced garlic
1 tbsp sriracha
1 tbsp ketchup
1 tbsp brown sugar
1 small lime, juiced (muddle the peels in your ice water, you'll need it in this heat.)
If you're tempted to leave out anything, DO IT. Just don't leave out the sesame oil. Ever. It's one of my few golden ingredients. Anyway, throw everything except the noodles into a pan, and crank it up to medium-high. The concoction will start to boil, what with the cellular structure of the cabbage breaking down. When the cabbage is on it's knees, but there's still a lot of liquid, throw in the noodles. If you've been slacking, start paying attention now, since the noodles will soak it all up fast. Once the liquid is gone, continue to pan-fry for 1 minute for texture. If you haven't already eaten it all, you can throw in 2 eggs for protein. Just be sure to coat all of it very thoroughly and stir constantly.
Please be warned that this dish is bold, even for my kitchen. There's an awful lot of tang, and the brown sugar only barely takes the edge off. This is why it's awesome. Subtlety is for take-out noodles, which always sound horribly amazing, and then turn out to be plain noodles with a few pieces of wilted vegetables hidden at the bottom. If you need something more takeout-y, skip the soy sauce and stir fry everything together. Or, if you just feel like a little less 'zing,' replace about half the soy sauce with sweet orange marmalade. I'll give you points if you beat me to it!
Tuesday, October 19
Pectin-Free Blueberry Jam
Pectin is a natural substance. It's a gelling substance that can be extracted from apples or citrus peals. But when I pick up that little box of Sure-Jell at the store, I get a little skeptical. I think of the boxes brimming with local blueberries that I picked myself. I think of my little jar of organic lemon juice. And then I think... do I really need this little box of mysterious substance to make jam?
The answer, it turns out, is no; especially if you're an over-eager blueberry harvester like me and end up picking a lot of blueberries that are firm, beautifully ripe on the top, and a wee-bit pink on the bottom. I'm just not a fan of mushy berries, so I end up picking a lot of those that are a few hours behind their true-blue counterparts. Turns out this is a good thing, because those less-ripe brethren will turn your blueberries into jam.
Blueberry Jam
4 cups properly-ripe blueberries
2 cups shy-of-ripe blueberries
1-3 cups sugar
1-6 tbsp lemon juice (this will bring out the flavor a little more and counteract the sweetness a touch)
Throw it all into the biggest pot you can find and simmer it for 30-60 minutes, stirring every five minutes. If you like to get technical, the jam should be at 220 degrees. Don't worry about blending or mashing the berries, the heat and your wooden spoon will do most of that for you. The mixture is done cooking when the sauce starts to congeal on the spoon between stirrings. Pour into hot jars leaving 1/2 inch headspace, process for 10 minutes.
The answer, it turns out, is no; especially if you're an over-eager blueberry harvester like me and end up picking a lot of blueberries that are firm, beautifully ripe on the top, and a wee-bit pink on the bottom. I'm just not a fan of mushy berries, so I end up picking a lot of those that are a few hours behind their true-blue counterparts. Turns out this is a good thing, because those less-ripe brethren will turn your blueberries into jam.
Blueberry Jam
4 cups properly-ripe blueberries
2 cups shy-of-ripe blueberries
1-3 cups sugar
1-6 tbsp lemon juice (this will bring out the flavor a little more and counteract the sweetness a touch)
Throw it all into the biggest pot you can find and simmer it for 30-60 minutes, stirring every five minutes. If you like to get technical, the jam should be at 220 degrees. Don't worry about blending or mashing the berries, the heat and your wooden spoon will do most of that for you. The mixture is done cooking when the sauce starts to congeal on the spoon between stirrings. Pour into hot jars leaving 1/2 inch headspace, process for 10 minutes.
Nectarine "Applesauce"
Yours truly is allergic to apples. I think it's kind of a sick joke, actually, considering apples and their allergenic cousin, pears, are both the heralds of autumn and the miracles of fruit. If it were an eye-swelling, hives-inducing allergy I would be a lot less sad about it. In that case, I'd hopefully have some Pavlovian response and retch at the thought of apple pie. Instead, I fondly remember gathering apples and pressing cider with my family. I instinctively pick up fallen apples from the sidewalk and salivate when I serve a dutch oven full of buttery baked apples. You, of course, already know how amazing apples are, so why don't I just expose the cure to apples? Ta da: Nectarines!
Who would have thought that this summery Chinese fruit would be an answer to autumn woes? But it's true! On the stove or in the oven, nectarines will cook down to a few of your favorite apple dishes. So while I haven't yet tried a solid "Apple" pie, I do have some proof that nectarines are my little miracle.
Nectarine "Applesauce"
Nectarines
Sugar
Fresh grated ginger
Cinnamon
Nutmeg
Pit and chop enough nectarines to fill a blender. Blend up the fruit until you achieve whatever consistency you generally like in applesauce, then pour it into the largest pot you can possibly find. Keep chopping and blending until your pot is half full (the more you fill, the more of a mess you will make, as this stuff boils over as happily as spaghetti sauce). Turn the stove on to medium-high heat, or just enough to prevent a full-on boil. Stir often. Cook until the sauce is as thick or as runny as you like it-- really, all you're doing here is browning the mixture a little bit and letting moisture boil out. I prefer a thick, chunky sauce, so I blend minimally and cook each batch for 45-60 minutes. Just before you're ready to can, add a little sugar, but I warn you: it doesn't need much. Stir in some fresh grated ginger or a little cinnamon and nutmeg to taste. I alternate batches in order to appeal to the rest of my household-- I can always mix two jars later. Pour into hot jars leaving about 1/2 inch of headspace, process for 10-15 minutes.
Concord Grape and Nectarine Butter
Nectarines
Fresh, local, concord grapes
Honey
This little number was borrowed from Christie's Corner. I felt like this recipe was simple because I was already stuck in the kitchen on a nectarine applesauce marathon. I made a batch of nectarine sauce-- but this one was blended particularly smooth. While the sauce was cooking, I blended a few pounds of local concord grapes in a blender. Using cheesecloth--while wearing old, stained clothes-- I squeezed every last drop of juice out into the nectarine sauce. Then I cooked the sauce for longer than usual, adding to the thickness by sweetening with honey instead of cane sugar. And... butter! Pretty darn simple if you're already canning nectarines anyway.
Who would have thought that this summery Chinese fruit would be an answer to autumn woes? But it's true! On the stove or in the oven, nectarines will cook down to a few of your favorite apple dishes. So while I haven't yet tried a solid "Apple" pie, I do have some proof that nectarines are my little miracle.
Nectarine "Applesauce"
Nectarines
Sugar
Fresh grated ginger
Cinnamon
Nutmeg
Pit and chop enough nectarines to fill a blender. Blend up the fruit until you achieve whatever consistency you generally like in applesauce, then pour it into the largest pot you can possibly find. Keep chopping and blending until your pot is half full (the more you fill, the more of a mess you will make, as this stuff boils over as happily as spaghetti sauce). Turn the stove on to medium-high heat, or just enough to prevent a full-on boil. Stir often. Cook until the sauce is as thick or as runny as you like it-- really, all you're doing here is browning the mixture a little bit and letting moisture boil out. I prefer a thick, chunky sauce, so I blend minimally and cook each batch for 45-60 minutes. Just before you're ready to can, add a little sugar, but I warn you: it doesn't need much. Stir in some fresh grated ginger or a little cinnamon and nutmeg to taste. I alternate batches in order to appeal to the rest of my household-- I can always mix two jars later. Pour into hot jars leaving about 1/2 inch of headspace, process for 10-15 minutes.
Concord Grape and Nectarine Butter
Nectarines
Fresh, local, concord grapes
Honey
This little number was borrowed from Christie's Corner. I felt like this recipe was simple because I was already stuck in the kitchen on a nectarine applesauce marathon. I made a batch of nectarine sauce-- but this one was blended particularly smooth. While the sauce was cooking, I blended a few pounds of local concord grapes in a blender. Using cheesecloth--while wearing old, stained clothes-- I squeezed every last drop of juice out into the nectarine sauce. Then I cooked the sauce for longer than usual, adding to the thickness by sweetening with honey instead of cane sugar. And... butter! Pretty darn simple if you're already canning nectarines anyway.
Sweet Pickle Relish
I found this incredible recipe over at Heritage Recipes when I was in a pickle this summer--I mean it, I was knee deep in cucumbers. After dozens of chilled soups and Greek salads, the idea of eating yet another cucumber eventually turned my stomach, so I decided I'd put my newly-found canning skills to work and make... something with cucumbers.
I love a good dill pickle, but no one who shares my blood type within a thousand mile radius does, and letting canned goods go to waste is just as bad as letting cukes go to compost. So that was out. A good friend of mine had recently made delicious bread and butter pickles and would probably share the recipe (admittedly, I gave him heaps of crap for adding 4 cups of sugar to a pickle recipe, but he made me eat my words when I tried his creation). As appetizing as that sounded, I still couldn't imagine sitting on 6 quarts of pickles all by myself. But what pickle will non-pickle-eaters eat? Relish. Relish had so many more applications anyway, so I settled on a sweet variety. This particular recipe is so good you practically want to eat it with a spoon! Already it's been a hit at barbecues and I can't wait to mix it into a creamy potato salad.
To be true to the wonderful woman who posted the recipe, I've posted the original recipe. I will admit that I used about half the sugar and a few more red peppers with great success!
I love a good dill pickle, but no one who shares my blood type within a thousand mile radius does, and letting canned goods go to waste is just as bad as letting cukes go to compost. So that was out. A good friend of mine had recently made delicious bread and butter pickles and would probably share the recipe (admittedly, I gave him heaps of crap for adding 4 cups of sugar to a pickle recipe, but he made me eat my words when I tried his creation). As appetizing as that sounded, I still couldn't imagine sitting on 6 quarts of pickles all by myself. But what pickle will non-pickle-eaters eat? Relish. Relish had so many more applications anyway, so I settled on a sweet variety. This particular recipe is so good you practically want to eat it with a spoon! Already it's been a hit at barbecues and I can't wait to mix it into a creamy potato salad.
To be true to the wonderful woman who posted the recipe, I've posted the original recipe. I will admit that I used about half the sugar and a few more red peppers with great success!
Sweet Relish
6 lbs cucumbers (don't peal!)
4 cups onions
2 green peppers
1 red pepper
Grind and mix together with...
1/2 c canning salt
2 qts Boiling water.
Let stand for 1 hour.
Drain well, then add the following,
1 tsp. mustard seed
1 tsp. turmeric
1 pint vinegar
5 cups sugar
1 Tbsp. corn starch
Boil 1/2 hour and seal hot in pint jars.
Makes around 6 pints.
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