Cranberry season again

While searching through my recipes for how long to process the cranberry sauce I was canning, I came across these interesting recipes from 1921. Since the food bank often has fruit toward the end of its season, I decided to go ahead and share them. Enjoy!

Cranberry Butter
three pints cranberries
1/2 cup water
2 cups sugar (or 2 cups white corn syrup)

Cook the cranberries and water until the skins of the fruit are broken, then press thru a sieve. Cook this pulp until it becomes quite thick, add the sugar (or syrup, if you use it) and cook for 1/2 hour over a very gentle fire, stirring constantly. When slightly cool, turn into jars and cover closely. This makes a delicious and healthful spread on hot biscuits, bread, buttered toast or cake.


Cranberry pie
Have ready a partly baked pastry shell. When cold, pour in filling made from cranberry sauce recipes; put strips of pastry over top and finish baking in a moderate oven.



Cranberry Mock Mince-Meat
2 lbs. chopped apples
3 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup chopped citron
1 1/2 cups cranberry sauce
1/2 cup vinegar
1 1/2 cups chopped raisins
1/4 teaspoon each of cloves and cinnamon
1/2 cup water
4 tablespoons lemon juice

Put all ingredients into a kettle and cook slowly until thick.

Cranberry Mince-Meat
To the above recipe [i.e. Cranberry Mock Mince-Meat] add:
1 1/2 cups cooked beef hearts put through a meat chopper
1/2 cup stock in which hearts were cooked

From: Cranberries : twenty-five ways of preparing for table / Leila W. Hunt. Extension Service, State College of Washington, Nov. 1921 (Bulletin No. 76).



Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Butternut squash and apple soup

2 Tbsp. butter
1 cup chopped yellow onion
1/2 cup sliced celery stalks and leaves
1 large butternut squash, peeled and cubed
1 small cooking apple (such as Jonagold or Granny Smith), peeled, cored, and cut into chunks
6 cups chicken stock or water
2 cinnamon sticks
6 whole cloves
6 allspice berries

garnish:
chopped fresh chives
sour cream

Cook onion and celery in butter over medium-high heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Place the squash and apple in a slow cooker; add onion mixture and stock. Cover and cook on low about 5 1/5 hours, until squash and apple are tender. Grind spices in a mortar or spice grinder; add to soup and cook another half hour. With an immersion blender or, working in batches, in a regular blender, puree the soup until smooth. Reheat if needed.

Adapted from: The gourmet slow cooker, vol. II : regional comfort-food classics / Lynn Alley. Ten Speed Press, 2006. 9781580087322

This is another of those posts I prepared for the Tumwater Farmers' Market blog before it switched editors. There are several of these, which will appear this winter when I'm feeling particularly cold and uninspired.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Turkish Delight (Lokoum)

2 1/2 cups water
4 cups sugar
1 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup fruit juice*, whatever flavor you like (grape juice, orange juice, etc.)
1 tsp cream of tartar
a few drops of food coloring (optional)
toasted chopped nuts (optional)
oil for coating pan
powdered sugar for coating

Bring water to a boil; stir in sugar until thoroughly dissolved. Mix cornstarch with juice and cream of tartar, stirring to remove any lumps. Gradually stir into boiling syrup. Continue cooking, stirring frequently, 20 min or to 220F. Add food coloring and nuts if desired. Pour into an oiled 7" square cake pan and let stand until set and cooled. Cut into 1" squares and dust with powdered sugar (one method is to shake a few squares at a time in a plastic bag filled with powdered sugar).

*Make sure you've got 100% juice, preferably unsweetened; juice drinks can be as much as 90% sugar water and what you're really after here is the flavor, you'll be adding plenty of sugar yourself.

Adapted from something called Eastern Mediterranean Cooking; sorry, I didn't record the full citation.

So,
a few weeks ago I was standing in line, waiting my turn at... let's call it "the miscellaneous station" at the food bank, where they give out oddball items like crackers, pop, salad dressing, or that awfu... I mean, ahem, that interesting "baconesque" popcorn. I could see around the couple of people in front of me, in a basket of assorted strange things, a box of Aplets and Cotlets. Yum! But there was only one box, would one of the people in front of me snag it? The first one chose coffee; bleh, but OK, that's popular. Good. The next one chose... chiles en adobo? Really, canned peppers over Aplets and Cotlets? Well, no accounting for taste and all that, and my gain, but really? Of course, once I got it home I saw that it was a little over a year past its pull date, but it was still perfectly good, only a little dried out at the edges.

Then I remembered I'd once copied off a recipe for lokoum, the original sweet that inspired Aplets and Cotlets, so I dug it out to share.

My grandmother (the southern matriarch one, not the butterboo one) lived in Cashmere for many years, and when I was about in my "tweens" she took me on the Aplets and Cotlets factory tour. In those days they only made the two products, and their factory was a smallish place in the middle of town; I'm sure they've grown and probably moved since then. They've certainly added more products. The thing is, that tour was one of the first times I was conscious of a product being local and localness being significant. Of course, at the time I thought it was a national brand and was impressed; now I think it's even cooler that it's a special regional delicacy.

And yes, I know some people think it's inedible. Some people like nasty things like coffee and blueberries and cream cheese frosting, so we'll all just have to agree to disagree and rejoice in our diversity. Anything else would be boring.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Sesame noodles with broccoli

8 oz. whole wheat spaghetti, cooked, drained but not cooled
5 cups broccoli florets, lightly blanched, drained but not cooled
2 cups matchsticked carrots
3/4 cup thinly sliced green onions
1/3 cup chopped fresh cilantro
3 Tbsp. toasted sesame seeds

Sauce:
2 Tbsp. tahini
2 Tbsp. water
2 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar
2 Tbsp. soy sauce
1 1/2 Tbsp. dark sesame oil
2 tsp. honey
1/2 tsp. grated fresh ginger
1/2 tsp. chili paste with garlic (sambal oelek)
2 cloves garlic, minced

Combine noodles and broccoli; sprinkle with remaining ingredients. Whisk sauce ingredients together in a small bowl. Drizzle over noodles and toss to coat.

Adapted from: Cooking light, Apr. 2007

I prepared this post for the Tumwater Farmers' Market blog before it switched editors. There are several of these, which will appear this winter when I'm feeling particularly cold and uninspired.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Prawn and Galia Melon Salad

1 small galia melon, seeded, rind removed and flesh chopped or flesh removed with a melon baller
about 3 1/2 oz. cooked and peeled prawns
scant 2 1/2 Tbsp finely chopped fresh mint leaves
scant 1 1/4 Tbsp olive oil
scant 2 1/2 lemon juice
scant 1 1/4 tsp wholegrain mustard

Mix ingredients and season. Serve in melon rind halves if desired.

Adapted from Recipes Plus

I haven't tried this one yet -- it's been a bad summer for melons here -- but it sounds intriguing.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Potato harvest time

Fried potatoes with fennel

1/2 to 1 bulb fennel, to taste
a handful of potatoes (i.e. as many potatoes as you care to hold in one hand -- one big one, two medium ones, several small ones)
butter or oil for cooking
a little salt and plenty of pepper

Remove stalks and fronds from the fennel (save them for your next fish bake or some other use); separate the bulb into ribs, trim, and wash. Slice across the ribs, rather like chopping celery, to make strips no more than 1/4 inch wide (that is, the pieces should be the width of the fennel rib by about 1/8 to 1/4 inch); set aside. Scrub or peel the potatoes, depending on their age and your preference, and slice them no more than 1/4 inch thick. If desired, cut cross-wise into french-fry-like sticks, but they can also be cooked as disks or half disks. Get the potatoes cooking over moderate heat in the butter or oil, season, and add the fennel strips. Spread out the pieces as much as possible so they get a chance to brown, especially the potatoes, and turn them frequently until done and lightly browned in many places. Serves one as a meal, 2-3 as a side dish.

The rest of the story
Last weekend I helped harvest potatoes for the food bank, getting covered with dirt in the process and pulling a few muscles. I love digging potatoes -- well, technically someone else did the actual digging, I got to crawl around in the dirt collecting them as the shovel exposed them.

Digging potatoes is a bit like hunting for buried treasure, only the result is more certain. Or maybe more like a subterranean Easter egg hunt; in any case, I had a couple of hours of fun and the food bank got crates of lovely red-skinned potatoes. So I thought I'd post a nice simple recipe.

There should still be fennel available; if not, you can always bake them in cream instead.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Nectarines

native to: probably China
in season in the Puget Sound region: July-August

Contrary to rumor, nectarines are not a hybrid of peaches and plums. Their scientific name is Prunus persica var. nucipersica or nectarina, meaning that taxonomists consider them a variety or breed of peach. They're a member of the Rosaceae family, related to plums, almonds, and damsons. Their flesh can be golden yellow or creamy white. As with many fruits and vegetables, white nectarines are generally sweeter while yellow-fleshed ones have more flavor. Most of the nectarines you'll find for sale are clingstones, meaning the flesh does not readily separate from the pit, but freestone varieties do exist. Nectarine trees require a cold winter to stimulate blossom production.

Nectarines originated in China at least a millennium ago and spread to Persia (hence the "persica" in their scientific name), then to Greece and Rome. The reached Great Britain around 1600 and were brought to the Americas by the Spanish.

Nectarines are rich in vitamins A, several Bs, C, E, K and also provide minerals and electrolytes such as potassium, phosphorous, magnesium, iron, zinc, copper, and calcium. They have antioxidants like polyphenols and carotenoids such as beta-carotene and cryptoxanthin, and their fiber is good for digestion. They also contain anthocyanins, catechin, chlorogenic acid, and quercetin derivatives, which combat obesity-related problems, and their vitamin C aids in the absorption of iron, helping fight anemia. Their lutein and beta-carotene are good for the eyes, while their vitamin C, zinc, and phenolic compounds support the immune system. Nectarines are even good for the skin, providing bioflavonoids and anti-oxidants that protect against damage from UV exposure (making their availability in July and August particularly appropriate).

Nectarine allergies are rare, but nectarine pits should not be eaten -- they contain substances that can metabolize into cyanide and sicken or kill someone who eats too many.


Read more:
label-style nutrition information
Spoon University
Nutrition and You

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Mammy's banana cake

1 c sugar
2/3 c butter
2 eggs
1 1/2 c flour
1 tsp. baking soda
4 ripe bananas
1/2 c chopped nuts (optional)

Mix in the usual fashion for a cake*. Bake in an 8- or 9-inch square pan at 350F for 35-40 min.

The rest of the story
This recipe originally came from my mother's "Mammy" (grandmother), who would have been cooking for children in the early 20th century in, approximately, Arkansas. Mom would have eaten this in the 1930s-1940s. I'm not sure which grandmother "Mammy" was -- 50% chance it was the one on whose farm my mother grew up during the Depression as part of a multi-generational extended family -- but I do remember my mother's delight at getting her hands on this recipe. We made it together within the week.

Then I misplaced it. I'd been looking for it for awhile now, because I was pretty sure I'd had it at some point. I particularly wanted it because the food bank almost always has bananas, but they're often very ripe and/or badly bruised (bananas bruise incredibly easily) -- perfect for banana bread (meh) or Mammy's banana cake! So now I'm almost as delighted as Mom was to have it again. Even if it did mean going through an entire file box of old printouts and photocopies.

As a side note, my family seems to have a tradition of losing and rediscovering grandmothers' recipes, and I am extremely grateful for the rediscovery part of that. And... let's see, my soapbox has to be around here somewhere... Labor Day weekend is coming up, a nice three-day with few socially-mandated activities connected to it; why not take this time to gather your favorite recipes from any remaining parents, grandparents, or even great-grandparents? And if you're a parent/grandparent/great-grandparent, why not gather up your descendants' favorite recipes into a notebook or (well backed-up) computer file as a first-apartment-warming gift? Your descendant is only six? Well, put it somewhere safe until it's wanted, but write 'em out now; your survival is not guaranteed. Your descendants are already on their second mortgage? Well then, it's about time they had their culinary birthright!

*There are about three different ways to mix cake batter, depending on the age of the recipe. When I make this cake, I just go with the given order of ingredients: cream the butter, sugar, and eggs, add the flour and baking soda, then the bananas and nuts. I need to do more research on this topic; I vaguely remember reading about a "new" method of mixing cake batter that appeared in the mid-20th century and made the process much easier, but recall none of the details (how frustrating).

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Using those blackberries

Cold-Process Blackberry Shrub

5 cups blackberries, gently rinsed
4 cups sugar
4 cups balsamic vinegar

Combine blackberries and sugar, stirring to produce some juice and coat berries. Cover and chill for 24 hours. Strain out the berries, gently pressing out any remaining juice. whisk in the vinegar, stirring until most of the sugar dissolves. Pour into a clean glass bottle and chill for 4 weeks before using.

Notes:
The original recipe called for red wine vinegar. I checked at the store, and what they had was the same acidity as the balsamic I used, 6%, so the result should be much the same (I'm just not that fond of the whole spoiled grape thing).

In my attempt, most of the sugar settled to the bottom of the berry glop, so at the very least you should probably give the berries a good stir before straining them.

I used my usual pseudo jelly bag technique like I did last year making blackberry juice concentrate, letting it drip all evening.

Next time I think I'll try mixing some of the vinegar into the berries before straining them to see if I can dissolve more of the sugar. My result seems sweet enough (before aging), so possibly some of the sugar is supposed to be filtered out with the berries. More experimentation is definitely called for!

Adapted from Port and Fin

So in a month or so, I'll be ready to try:

Blackberry-rum shrub

4 Tbsp. dark rum
1 Tbsp. blackberry shrub syrup
club soda to taste

Combine ingredients and serve over ice.

Adapted from Saveur

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Blackberry foraging

It's blackberry season again! Blackberries are a sort of "gateway food" for foragers, being familiar, easy to recognize, and fairly available even without driving somewhere and hiking five miles into the wilderness. So, here for your consideration are my personal foraging guidelines:

Practice gratitude
Thank the plants and/or your preferred deity, or just take a moment to contemplate the marvel of bio-machines that convert earth, water, and sunlight into food. If you're setting out to collect a lot of berries, why not take the plants a little gift, like some water or weak worm/compost tea? Yes, the plants won't really understand what you're doing, it's all symbolic, but there are some indications that plants can sense our emotions or intentions, and anyway being nice to other living things is a good habit to get into.

Share
Take what you'll use, but don't pick too closely -- that is, leave the berries that will be at their peak tomorrow -- and try to leave some for the next forager (human or not). If you're young and athletic (or even just not all that ancient and reasonably vigorous) why not leave the easy-to-reach stuff for casual nibblers and the less agile? If you end up with more than you want, offer some to friends and neighbors or run it down to the Food Bank.

Especially, remember that humans aren't the only berry-lovers around, so if your patch is anywhere there might be wildlife, plan accordingly. Bears are particularly fond of berries, so go into the woods with plenty of friends and make some noise so other critters will know you're there and try to avoid you.

Expect scratches
Respect the plants, try not to trample or break more than absolutely necessary, and don't go berrying the day before you want to look stunning in a sun dress or show off your carefully cultivated muscles at the beach. Wear heavy clothes and plan to sweat, or dress more lightly and plan to bleed (no, that's not a threat; I personally always choose the second option and come home all scratched up -- but I have cats so I'm used to a certain amount of that anyway).

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

(Red) amaranth leaves

Red Amaranth with Garlic and Oyster Sauce

1 bunch red amaranth, washed, shaken dry, picked over, and larger stems removed
2 Tbsp. cooking oil
1 clove garlic, crushed
2 Tbsp. oyster sauce
2 tsp. sugar
2 tsp. cornstarch mixed with 2 Tbsp. cold water

Chop amaranth leaves and small stems into bite-sized pieces. Heat oil and gently cook, stirring, until it begins to color. Add amaranth, increase heat to medium, and toss until wilted. Add oyster sauce and sugar, cover, and steam for a minute or two. Stir in cornstarch mixture and allow to boil until it thickens.

Spicy Amaranth

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 clove garlic, minced or crushed
1 tsp. minced fresh ginger
1 small jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. ground cardamom
1 lb. red amaranth leaves, washed, larger stems removed, torn as needed
1 tsp. salt, or to taste
1 Tbsp. lime juice
2 Tbsp. water

Heat oil, add the garlic, ginger, and jalapeno; toss for about 10 seconds. Stir in remaining spices and briefly continue cooking. Add amaranth leaves, salt, lime juice, and water. Stir-fry until the amaranth starts to wilt.

Adapted from Seasonal Chef

The long, chatty bit

native to: South America, probably Peru
in season in the Puget Sound region: August

I saw these at the
Olympia Farmers' Market (Piece by Piece Farm of food bank CSA fame had them, just lying there beside the lettuces) and they were so beautiful I just had to try them. And photograph them; they've motivated me to get back into putting photos in my posts.

It's been awhile since I posted a recipe, so I decided that would be my focus here (and it promptly turned too hot to cook without air conditioning, so I haven't actually tried the recipes yet). However, I did my usual internet reading and learned a few interesting things.

Amaranth is more familiar as a high-protein, gluten-free grain, and sometimes you have to read pretty carefully to determine if a website is talking about the leaves or seeds. The leaves are more common in Asian cuisine, often appearing in stir-fries and curries. There are some 60 species of Amaranthaceae. The common wild one is one of several weeds called pigweed, which, yes, is also edible. Other varieties can be used as a red dye and as ornamentals -- Love-lies-bleeding is an amaranth.

Amaranth "greens" (mostly red to purple) are also called Chinese spinach, although it's not a close spinach relative. Amaranth has a stronger, more bitter flavor and tougher leaves than spinach -- only the youngest leaves should be eaten raw. The larger leaves are better cooked, but should not be reheated or their nitrates could get converted to nitrites. The root is also eaten, but less commonly.

Amaranth is nutritionally similar to beets, chard, and spinach, but with more protein, vitamin C, carotene, iron, and calcium. A couple of sources mention it as a good source of lysine, but I think they're talking about the seeds rather than the leaves. It stimulates growth and healing, reduces inflammation, supports the immune system, and may help lower blood pressure.

The most interesting thing I learned is that amaranth leaves are good for skin and hair. The leaves can be applied to patches of eczema and their juice, used topically, revitalizes hair follicles and fights baldness. I've not looked into the idea, but it might be useful against mange as well -- but check with your veterinarian before trying it. I've no idea whether dogs and cats can safely eat amaranth; and if you put it on them, you know they'll eventually lick or chew it off.

Read more:
label-style nutrition information for cooked amaranth leaves
Organic Facts
Innovate Us

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Galia melons

native to: Israel
in season in the Puget Sound region: August (mostly they're transported from central Washington; the Sound region doesn't really get warm enough for long enough to produce a good melon crop)

Also called Middle Eastern melon, Mediterranean melon, passport melon, honeymoon melon, or Israeli melon, galia melons are a cross between cantaloupes and honeydews. They look a lot like a smallish cantaloupe, with slightly paler skin that can take on a yellowish cast when very ripe and with somewhat less netting -- the network of little ridges that covers the rind. The flesh is where the real difference is, pale creamy yellow to bright green. They are sometimes considered a kind of honeydew but their flavor is more like a cantaloupe, if slightly milder and sweeter. If you want to get technical, they're a kind of muskmelon, a member of the Cucurbitaceae family known in scientific circles as Cucumis melo var. reticulatus. The seeds are also edible.

The main reason we don't see more of them is that they have a short shelf life, something like 2-3 weeks after picking (which in many cases would be just about the time it takes for them to reach a grocery store shelf). As longer-lived strains are developed, we're likely to see more of them.

They were developed in the 1960s by Dr. Zvi Karchi at the Ne´ve Yaar Research Center of the Agricultural Research Organization in Israel, named after his daughter, and released for commercial production in 1973.

Galias provide plenty of vitamins A and C, carotenoids, bioflavonoids, potassium, calcium, and iron, and also contain a fair amount of fiber, including pectin. They help with weight loss, promote digestion, and fight diabetes because of all that fiber; support the immune system with vitamin C and antioxidants such as bioflavonoids; work against certain types of cancer; improve vision with vitamin A and carotenoids; and protect the heart by reducing cholesterol and because their potassium acts as a vasodilator and lowers blood pressure. They have diuretic properties that flush sodium and toxins that cause kidney disease and eczema. They're low in carbohydrates and have alkalizing properties. In combination with lemons they can help cure gout. Their vitamins A and C, collagen, and basic high water content make them good for the skin. They even help bodybuilders, with their low fructose content, minerals, fiber, and moisture.

The only real health concern, minor as it is, is the high fiber content. Too much fiber can over-rev digestion, bind nutrients, and speed food through the intestines so things don't have as much chance to be absorbed by the body. This is only an issue if you eat a while lot of them, though.


Read more:
Only Foods
Organic Facts
Specialty Produce

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Shrubs (not the kind sought by the Knights Who (Used To) Say "Ni!")

1/2 oz. (ca. 14.7 ml.) drinking vinegar/shrub
2 oz. (ca. 59 ml.) vermouth or sherry
seltzer or club soda to taste

Stir together and serve at once, probably over ice.
-------

2 oz (ca. 59 ml.) dark rum
1/2 oz. (ca. 14.7 ml.) drinking vinegar/shrub
3 oz. (ca. 88.7 ml.) club soda or seltzer

Stir together and serve at once, probably over ice.

Variations:
- Leave out the rum for a non-alcoholic version.
- Replace the club soda with ginger beer or tonic water.

Adapted from Serious Eats

The long, chatty bit
Vinegar is all the rage just now; would it be inaccurate to call it "the new milk"? Or maybe that's just the circles I move in; several of my friends are into the whole alkalizing thing, and apparently drinking vinegar, although it's an acid, has an alkalizing effect because of the way the body reacts to it ("nooo, don't give me acid! I'll just rev up my acid processing and base producing functions and make myself more alkaline instead, so there!" -- or am I the only one whose body is that contrary?).

Anyway, there was a new vendor at the Tumwater Farmers' Market this week, selling "sipping vinegar" -- try to say that 3 times without accidentally saying "sipping liquor" instead -- and giving out samples. The vinegar is called Wild Heart, but the company is called OH!SHRUBS.

I was vaguely aware of shrub as a kind of drink, something in the punch or cordial line, but after trying it, I was inspired to look a little further. Dictionary first: my aging Chambers defines a shrub as, in the UK, "a mixed drink of lemon or other citrus fruit juice, sugar, spices, and a spirit, esp. rum" (making it similar to the Rum Swizzle of Bermudian fame) and, in the US, "a cordial of fruit juice (e.g. raspberry) and vinegar." Seems the term comes from the Arabic sharab and the word is related to "sherbet." Further consultation tells me a cordial is not, as I'd always vaguely assumed, a liqueur-like drink of some sort, but rather a non-alcoholic refresher. Huh; well, there's my new thing learned today (I find I'm happiest if I can learn at least one thing every day).

But I kept thinking about that blackberry juice concentrate I have on my pantry shelf. Could I make my own "sipping vinegar" by mixing that with cider, or maybe balsamic, vinegar and possibly some cinnamon or grains of paradise? So off to the internet I went....

Wikipedia, which is quick if of dubious repute, adds that the first kind of shrub is a "fruit liqueur that was popular in the 17th and 18th century England, typically made with rum or brandy mixed with sugar and the juice or rinds of citrus fruit." It evolved from 15th century medicinal cordials and Persian sekanjabin and had fallen out of fashion by the late 19th century. The second kind is a "cocktail or soft drink that was popular during America's colonial era, made by mixing a vinegared syrup with spirits, water, or carbonated water." It originated from the 17th-century English practice of using vinegar instead of citrus juice to preserve berries and fruit (producing yet another kind of shrub) and remained common until refrigerators made it too much work. Drinking vinegar, Wikipedia says, is the sweetened vinegar syrup from which the cocktails are made, which can also be called -- you guessed it -- shrub. There are also "shrubs" made with alcohol and versions that use acidic fruit juices instead of vinegar, but for now let's look at the traditional vinegar-based shrub.

The idea of vinegar as a drink ingredient is very old, going back to at least 2nd century B.C. Rome, where posca was a popular soldier's and working-man's thirst quencher. Even before that, mixing sour wine or vinegar with herbs was a common medicinal practice.

Another vinegar-and-water drink worth mentioning is switchel or haymaker's punch, which was often flavored with ginger and in which sweetening was optional. I have heard switchel described as "colonial-era Gatorade," along with the comment that it only tastes good if you need the electrolytes the vinegar provides.

There are two ways to make the basic syrup kind of shrub or drinking vinegar. The more traditional way involves macerating (softening) the fruit in sugar for a couple of days, straining it, and adding approximately an equal amount of good vinegar (cider vinegar is traditional, although I've also seen balsamic mentioned); what might be called the quick-and-dirty method simply boils the fruit in simple syrup instead. There's a good description of both methods on the website Food52, and another version at The Spruce Eats. A long but interesting article at Serious Eats includes photos of the maceration process.

A very basic drink can be made by mixing 1 oz. of shrub (the syrup) with 5-6 oz. water, sparkling water, or club soda.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Locavore, sort of

This week my favorite Food Bank had all-you-can-eat strawberries, plus an abundance of raspberries. Not thinking much beyond "yum!" I grabbed a bunch... and was reminded why I can sometimes be such a locavore. The strawberries were from California and just about had enough flavor to be worth hauling up the hill -- since I was going anyway -- but the raspberries were all seeds and red water, not really even worth carrying from bowl to mouth. Granted, some of that was my fault, since they got pretty squished riding home in my panniers.

The point is, the farther food travels and the longer it sits in a distributor's warehouse, the older it gets. And with any kind of produce, the older it's going to get, the earlier it has to be picked and the less flavor it has time to develop. This is the best reason to buy your food directly from local farmers as much as possible.

Other reasons include the economic -- buying locally keeps your money "at home" -- and the ecological -- all those interstate trucks and international planes do nasty things to the air quality.

Don't get me wrong, I still love the food bank and am grateful to them, they just sometimes have things that aren't much good. In fact, one of the coolest things about the food bank is the chance to try stuff you'd never risk spending money on.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Raspberry Goop

4-serving package of raspberry flavored gelatin powder
2 c whipped cream substitute such as Cool Whip or Dream Whip (or whipped cream if goop will be used up immediately)
up to a quart of fresh raspberries, gently washed and allowed to dry

Prepare gelatin according to package instructions and chill to a thick syrup; do not allow it to set*. Fold in the whipped cream substitute to make a slightly unappetizing pink fluff; fold in raspberries. Chill until completely set.

Summer comfort food
I scored a big package of raspberries at the Food Bank today (yum). I didn't have the other ingredients for this dish on hand, so I just ate them (Food Bank raspberries have to be picked over and the still-good ones eaten immediately). Whenever I so much as think of raspberries, though, I remember this treat.

You see, when my parents first put in their vegetable garden (this was in the Spokane Valley and produced a strong candidate for the title of World's Bitterest Lettuce, as well as two rows of corn that demonstrated admirably the value of composting, the stalks growing shorter and shorter the further they got from the spot Dad dumped the lawn mower bag... where was I?) they answered a newspaper ad and bought a dozen raspberry starts. The seller, who was clearing out his large raspberry patch, started digging and for every "good" start he dug, he found at least one that was "too small" but he threw it in as well. My parents, being unable to just throw out a healthy plant, ended up with a double row all along the back fence, in excess of two dozen plants that all settled in happily and began producing berries.

At first it was great, lots of lovely raspberries. By August of the third year, my mother (being equally unable to throw out good berries) began to get desperate, having frozen and given away as many raspberries as she could, and with more ripening. She came across this recipe -- I think it must have been on a box of Jello -- and it was a great success. Better, it used up lots of raspberries. I don't remember the official recipe title, we promptly started calling it "goop" and it remains "goop" to us to this day.

It can actually be made with any pairing of gelatin and fruit; peach with sliced peaches is another favorite of mine, but I can't recommend orange with canned mandarin oranges, that's terribly sweet. Best of all, making it produces very little heat, especially if you heat the water in a microwave; that alone would make it a great summer recipe.


Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

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*Chunks of Jello and raspberries in whipped cream substitute, while also good, is a different dessert.

Three-layer chef's salad

This one isn't so much a recipe as a technique; the ingredients listed are what I usually have on hand to use. It's all about how to make a nice one-person, main course salad with just a nice amount of dressing and without all the goodies gone in the first half dozen bites, but not requiring climbing up for the big popcorn bowl from on top of the cupboards so you can toss the thing peoperly.

Here's what I use:
romaine lettuce
leaf lettuce, preferably either very ruffled or with lots of beautiful red in it
spinach
medium white cheddar cut into short slivers
celery chopped into about 1/2-inch pieces
sunflower seeds
sunflower shoots
quail eggs, hard-boiled
some kind of meat in small chunks, often surimi (fake crab) or shrimp if the food bank has any
caesar salad dressing

Place about a third of each ingredient in a big bowl (or a quarter, if you prefer an even number of layers). Drizzle with a small amount of salad dressing, if you want dressing. I put my dressings in those squeezable plastic condiment bottles if they're not too chunky, to get a nice thin line and therefore fairly even coverage without anything getting drowned. Repeat until your ingredients are in the bowl and you have the desired number of layers. Admire your salad for a moment, then stir it gently as you eat to distribute the dressing more thoroughly.

If you're using a (big enough) spinner to dry your greens, you can use the same technique in washing the greens and loading the spinner. Then you're ready to go and don't have to dig down for anything or unpack the spinner into separate piles or bowls. It's all about not making extra dishes to wash.

Wow, a food bank CSA
As if free food weren't amazing enough, this year the Thurston County Food Bank is trying out a mini-ÇSA, four "boxes" of lovely fresh veg in May and June donated by local farms. You have to apply, I suppose to convince them you like produce and will make good use of the goodies. So I applied on the off chance, figuring families with children would probably get them all, but I won! Well, technically I was accepted into the program, but it felt like winning.

This week's box included a package of sunflower shoots, one of my all-time favorite "salady things." I got kind of addicted to them last year, at least to the point that I consider them pretty much essential to a nice chef's-type salad. So thank you Black Hills Organics for donating them!

Another thing that makes this salad season is that the quail at Lost Peacock Creamery have started laying in earnest this month. Hard boiled quail eggs are the perfect size for a salad, you can use them whole and not have stray bits of yolk wandering loose in the salad, and they're a better source of protein than plain chicken eggs.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

All that ground turkey...

(Originally written 13 Sept. 2017)

Pie-like Objects (PLOs)

1 1b. ground chicken, turkey, or pork
1/4 c. chopped onion, or to taste
1-2 ribs celery, chopped, if available
1/4 tsp. garlic powder, or to taste
1 tsp. ground cinnamon, or to taste
ground black pepper to taste
salt if desired
1/2 c. blackberry juice, concentrated to a light syrup (see recipe below)
dough for 8-16 crescent rolls

Cook meat, onion, celery, and spices, stirring to combine and to break up the meat, until nearly done. Add juice and finish cooking. Remove from heat.

Form crescent roll dough into 4-8 squares; if working with precut triangles, you may find it easiest to offset them so the narrow points stick out, then seal the seams and tuck the ends along the sides. Divide the meat mixture between the squares and wrap the dough to form bundles or turnovers. Bake according to the directions for the rolls, until light brown and done. Cool well on a rack before refrigerating; do not cover until well chilled or they may get soggy..

"Pies" that stay sealed will keep better than ones that split, so eat the split ones first.

Blackberry Concentrate
When ready to start, rinse blackberries gently (they will keep better unwashed and not too tightly covered). Dump them into a pot and smush them a bit with a potato masher or your widest spatula. This gives you some burn-preventing liquid without adding water which will then just have to be cooked off again. Cover and simmer on medium-low heat (about 4 out of 9 on my stove), smushing and stirring occasionally for... awhile. Until it's had enough and is all runny. Half an hour or so, once it starts bubbling and you (probably) turn the heat down.

Rig a jelly bag. If you're like most people these days, you won't have a proper jelly bag; it's easier to lay a couple of layers of cheesecloth in a strainer. Make sure enough cheesecloth hangs over the sides that you can pull the corners together and make a bag, and put strainer and cheesecloth over another pot, or a large bowl, and dump in the berries and juice. After the first 1-2 hours, gather the cheesecloth corners and tie them to form a bag; hang the bag over the pot/bowl, possibly from the knob of a cupboard. You'll probably want to use a loop of twine for this, because the cheesecloth will be pretty messy. (If you have friends or family who are into horror or goth, be sure to show them your hanging bag and "bloody" hands.) Let the berries drain awhile longer, a couple of hours to overnight.

Time for a break. Clean up, put the juice in the fridge, and throw away or compost the berries and cheesecloth. Now aren't you glad you dont have a jelly bag to wash? Make sure you have enough clean canning jars (I recommend 8 oz. jelly jars or those cute 4-oz. pots) and unused lids if you're going to can it.

When you're ready to continue (don't leave it more than a few days or you'll lose momentum), set the juice back over medium-low heat and simmer, uncovered and stirring occasionally, until it reduces to about half the volume or you're out of patience. If you have a candy thermometer, aim for the low end of the syrup range, about 210-215F (100C). While waiting on this, put water in your canning kettle and find whatever you put in the bottom to protect the jars (I use a washcloth since I lost my little wire thingy years ago). Start it heating. Arrange lids and (upside-down) jars in a shallow pan of water and get them boiling to sterilize them. Set out a kitchen towel to put the jars on while filling and, later, while cooling (NOT a good towel; use the same one you've been drying your washed and hulled strawberries on all summer). Find your jar-lifter or tongs and other canning tools as desired. Isn't that juice cooked to syrup yet?

When the juice is finally syrupy, fill the jars, leaving 1/4 inch or a little more headspace. Close jars and load the canner, adding more water if needed to cover the jars. Boil 10 minutes. Remove jars to the towel and listen for the pops while cleaning up; some may even seal while being removed from the canner.

Complete information on canning (.pdf file).

The Blackberry Chicken Calzone experiment
I wanted to start off my new blog with something creative and unusual, so in the best "what needs to be used up?" tradition I attempted... let's call it Blackberry Chicken Calzone. Unusual, I think I managed. Edible...?

It all started with the blackberries in a friend's back yard. She had eaten, frozen, and smoothied as many of the things as she could handle and they were still coming over the back fence like a tsunami; would I like to pick some for myself? Please?

So with one load from her yard and another from a local park (because now I was in full berrying mode and, after all, it's free food), I started out by making juice. This is an easy way to get rid of all those seeds. Then, since I still had blackberry jelly from last year and the row of canned grape juice next to it suggested I wasn't going to drink it as juice, I decided to cook it down into an unsweetened syrup sort of thing. The idea was to make sort of a blackberry version of pomegranate molasses, although later I realized that pomegranate molasses is sweetened.

Now that I had this blackberry molasses-oid, what to do with it? Remembering the original inspiration (I think it was a chicken fesenjan recipe?) and digging around in my freezer, I decided to cook some ground chicken in it. By tasting the juice and sniffing spices, I settled on a little garlic and onion, just because that's pretty much what goes on everything savory in my kitchen, plenty of cinnamon, and a bit of cubebs just because I hadn't used any for a long time. To be honest, I think they were too old to make much difference.

So far, so good. I had some pizza dough from the food bank in the freezer that I thawed for this little adventure. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be for a thin, crackery crust, if freezing killed the yeast, or if it was just too old, but it didn't rise. I stretched it out as best I could (with it ripping all the way), dumped the chicken in the middle, and pulled the edges over to make a sort of minimalist, one-filling calzone, then cooked it like the package said to, but it looked more dried than baked. Plus a lot of the bottom stuck to the pan. I gamely tried some of the fragments anyway, since that's what there was for dinner, and it wasn't actually too bad once you got past the appearance. Further experimentation showed crescent roll or puff pastry dough to be a better choice than the pizza dough, and that golden raisins or chopped dried figs made a good addition. The technique also works with other combinations of meat, juice/sauce, and additions.

Dessert was Trader Joe's shortcakes from the food bank via the freezer (thanks for donating them, TJ's!) under very basic strawberry sauce made by coarsely fork-mashing wonderful local strawberries from the Tumwater Farmers' Market, courtesy of their generous Market Match program.

Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.

Switchover

I had been thinking about starting a new blog for a year or so, but until this point my writings for the Tumwater Farmers' Market blog kept me busy enough. I wrote on e post but never got around to setting up the blog. However, at this point someone else took over writing the Market blog (and took it in another direction). The following earlier posts are "reprinted" from that blog for your convenience. Enjoy!

Definitions, pt. 1

adjust seasonings: usually, add salt and pepper to taste, although any other seasonings can be adjusted at the same point

agrodolce: an Italian sweet and sour sauce. ("Agridouce," by the way, is a word of similar meaning that I made up, I think from French usage, before discovering this term, and describes any dish of the European variety of sweet and sour flavor)

aubergine: eggplant

bloom (chocolate): the whitish layer of fat or sugar that forms on chocolate when it has had a hard life -- been poorly stored or improperly handled. While it may affect the texture of the chocolate, bloom does not make the chocolate unsafe to eat. Some don't mind it at all, others considered bloomed chocolate inedible.
More details.

bouguet garni: a little bundle of fresh herb twigs, intended to be removed before the dish it has flavered is served. The bouquet is traditionally tied in a little bundle with string, although the herbs may be placed in a small cloth bag instead (in which case they don't even need to be whole twigs).

BTU: British Thermal Unit, used to measure heat output. One BTU is the amount of heat needed to raise one pound (2 cups) of non-aerated water from 60 to 61 degrees F at normal air pressure. Now you know.

chiffonade: shredded or thinly sliced herbs or vegetables, often used as a garnish

corn flour: corn starch

cornichon: small gherkin (which is a small, young cucumber)

deglaze: remove dried juices from a pan by adding liquid and cooking, scraping the bottom gently to help dissolve the residue; a standard step in making gravy

divided (in ingred. list): not used all at once. This is mostly found in older recipes, and warns you that, for instance, 1/4 cup of that "2 c flour" is going onto the roux (q.v.) and only 1 3/4 cups will be used for the biscuits. The actual amounts to be used will be in the body of the recipe.

fines herbes: chives, chervil, parsley, and tarragon. A traditional mixture is 1 part each tarragon and chives, 2 parts chervil, and 8 parts parsley, but every chef has her/his own formula.


macerate: to soften fruit, especially berries, by marinating or otherwise treating them to make them release their juices. Sprinkling strawberries with sugar is a common example.

non-reactive (pan, bowl, container): one that won't react with acidic ingredients such as vinegar, tomatoes, or some fruit juices. Stainless steel, glass, ceramic, and plastic are all non-reactive; avoid aluminum, copper, and cast iron unless enamelled or lined with steel.

persillade: chopped parsley and garlic, usually added to dishes at the end of cooking

mirepoix: chopped onions, celery, and carrots. These ingredients form the basic flavoring of many foods, especially soups.

roux: a cooked mixture of butter and flour, often used in sauces.
instructions for making a roux
video on how to make a roux

syrup, golden, or light treacle: light molassess, more or less
more from Wikipedia

syrup, simple: sugar water, basically. It can be light or heavy. In bartending, the ratio of sugar to water is usually between 1:1 to 2:1; 1 C sugar to 3 C water is more common in cooking. The syrup should be cooked 2-3 min to dissolve the sugar.
more from Wikipedia

temper (chocolate): to subject chocolate to a series of temperature changes that make it less likely to bloom (q.v., above)
article on tempering chocolate

temper (milk, eggs): to warm delicate foods such as milk, cream, or eggs slowly to prevent curdling, by adding a small amount of the hot mixture to the cold ingredient before mixing them together.
more details

Some nut notes

To remove the bitter inner skins from almonds and filberts/hazelnuts, roast the nuts (on a baking sheet or in a shallow pan) at 200F until they become aromatic and golden, then rub them in a towel until most of the skin comes off.

To blanch almonds, put them in a saucepan of water and cook them 2-3 min.; drain them and rub the skins off with a towel, then spread the nuts on a baking sheet to dry. You can put them in a 200-degree oven and they'll dry in about 5 min. but be careful not to roast them.

"Fresh" nuts in a grocery store are often a year or more from harvest -- just the way the system works -- so if you can find a direct source you're ahead of the game. Burnt Ridge has locally-grown walnuts, hazelnuts/filberts, and chestnuts at the Olympia Farmers' Market in the fall and early winter, and Holmquist does mail order hazelnuts. They carry a variety called "Duchilly" which I can recommend; they're longer and sweeter than the usual "Barcelona" variety.

Bundt pan tricks

You know that bundt pan hiding in the back of the cupboard, waiting for you to need a fancy cake to impress someone? Here are a couple of other uses for it.

Corn off the cob: When you need to cut fresh corn off a cob, try sticking the stem end (after shucking) into the hole in the middle of a bundt pan and letting the pan catch all those scattering kernels.

Chicken roasting, with veg: Cover the hole in the middle of the bundt pan with foil to prevent leakage, then fill the pan with roastable vegetables such as potatoes, onions, carrots; even a bit of sausage if you like. Settle the chicken over the pan's center pillar by sticking it up the chicken's... that is, by inserting the pillar into the cavity of the chicken, "Beer can chicken" style. This way the juices will collect in the pan with the vegetables (and whatever) and you don't have to waste any beer.

These tips are from: Mad genius tips : over 90 expert hacks + 100 delicious recipes / by Justin Chapple and the editors of Food & wine. Food & Wine Books, c2016. ISBN: 9780848748425

Storing oils

Most sources recommend against storing olive oil in the fridge, preferring the classic "dark, cool place." If you do refrigerate it, they advise giving it 5 minutes or so to come to room temperature before use.

Other oils are apparently more forgiving of refrigeration, or maybe just beneath the notice of those who care about such things.

Some little tricks you may already know

Dental floss
Cut soft cheese such as Brie, Camembert, or chevre by placing unflavored dental floss under it, crossing the ends over the top, and pulling.

Cake can be split horizontally into layers in a similar manner. Use a ruler to place toothpicks evenly around the cake to guide the floss, wrap, and pull.

Dental floss is also a good choice for stringing food-coloring-dyed or painted pasta "beads" (or any kind of beads) when kids need something "crafty" to do. Please note that dental floss is particularly strong and probably won't break if the kids try to strangle each other with it or their new necklaces, so this should be discouraged.

Potato flakes
Thicken soup, especially the "cream" kind, by adding instant mashed potatoes. Add it little by little and give it time to absorb liquid and dissolve before adding more if you particularly want to stay soup-ward of mashed potatoes with stuff in. I find this especially useful for commercially-made soups, because the potatoes also cover up some of the saltiness.

Scissors
Chop bacon with kitchen shears instead of a knife and cutting board.

Cut pizza -- especially the thin-crust kind -- with kitchen shears.

Spoon
Spread jam, jelly, and nut butter with the back of a spoon -- it's easier than trying to dig the stuff out of the jar with a knife and then keep it balanced until you get it to the bread.

Wine bottles
Pit cherries by placing them stem-end up on the opening of a wine bottle and pushing the pit out with the handle end of a chopstick. If you wash the bottle out first, you can then use the pits to make flavored water or vodka. Add sparkling water to the pits, give them a good swirl, and strain the water into flasses to serve, or collect a good pile of pits, add vodka and a few whole cherries, and infuse for at least a week.

Slow cooker tricks

To convert a traditional recipe for a slow cooker, adjust the cooking time as follows:
Recipe time Slow cooker (on low)
15 minutes 1.5-2 hours
20 min. 2-3 hrs.
30 min. 3-4 hrs.
45 min. 5-6 hrs.
1 hr. 6-8 hrs.
1.5 hrs. 8-9 hrs.
2 hrs. 9-10 hrs.
You'll probably need less liquid, as well.

Doubling a slow cooker recipe is a little more complicated than with a normal recipe. Only add half again as much liquid as in the original recipe (for instance, 1 cup of broth in the original slow cooker recipe should only become 1.5 cups when "doubled"). You'll also need to cook it about an hour longer; check it carefully for doneness and cook longer if needed.

On those cold winter days when your hair sticks to your face and the cat's ears give you little static shocks, an unlidded slow cooker full of water (and any dried herb you care to add, optional) makes a passable humidifier. (If the cat will let you touch his paw with one hand, making skin-to-skin contact, you can pet him with the other hand without snapping either of you. Try slipping your hand under the paw rather than holding it, most cats object to having a paw trapped.)

Much of this information came from: Slow cooking for two : basics techniques recipes / Cynthia Graubart. Gibbs Smith, c2013. ISBN: 9781423633839.

Baking powder and baking soda

Chemically speaking, baking soda is a base -- alkaline -- and produces a gas when mixed with an acid. This is the source of both its leavening action and the more explosive effect that makes it a popular drain-cleaner and component of baking-soda-and-vinegar volcanos. Lemon juice, buttermilk, honey, molasses, and chocolate are all acidic enough to trigger leavening. Do not let baking-soda-leavened batter sit too long before baking it or the chemical reaction will run its course and the batter will start to deflate.

Baking powder pre-combines baking soda with a dry acid or two to produce the same effect. The most common kind, double-acting baking powder, contains two acids, one that starts leavening as soon as it gets wet and another that doesn't start working until it's heated. Some recipes will advise you to let baking-powder-leavened batter sit briefly before baking it, in order to, as it were, get the maximum lift from the first stage before heat sets off the second stage.

Baking powder loses strength as it ages. If you're not sure how long that can has been sitting in the cupboard, test it by mixing 1/2 tsp. of it into 1/4 cup of warm water; it will fizz if it's still good.

A possible substitute for baking powder is to add 2 tsp. cream of tartar, 1 tsp. baking soda, and 1 tsp. salt PER CUP OF FLOUR (not in direct proportion to the recipe's baking powder). Keep in mind, though, that you're edging from cooking into chemistry here and this work-around won't work for every recipe.