Yes, yes, the hair is mostly grey now. People congratulate me on having a “good” color of grey. But what if it weren’t “good”? What if I had a weird, ashy, muddy color? Would I be forced to keep coloring it in order to look “good”? There is often some level of discomfort when I get into these conversations, because inevitably people (read: women) start to question their own commitment to artificial color. I do not judge. I religiously colored my hair for 15 years and, if the inconvenience of spending precious city time in the salon chair were not a factor, I might still be doing it. But the move upstate and all it has engendered do seem to have connected me to a more authentic expression of myself I find gratifying. That said, this post is about a different sort of grey altogether. Read on to find out more, and to check out my latest list of inspiring links.

grizzled comeback

I refer, of course, to The Grey, the new flick from Liam Neeson, the acclaimed actor who has been reincarnated as a fierce yet vulnerable action star. (If you haven’t seen Seraphim Falls, Taken or Unknown, you’ve missed out on this new persona.) Essentially an outlandish chase, The Grey, directed by Joe Carnahan (Smokin’ Aces, Narc) is the story of a motley crew of plane-crash survivors endeavoring to elude the pack of ravenous wolves stalking them through a frigid Arctic landscape.

huffing and puffing

The film works as a blunt and brutal thriller, but when it strays into more existential territory I thought it got a touch heavy-handed. This doesn’t mean I can resist Mr. Neeson’s wounded blue eyes and fierce leadership. I would follow him into the belly of the beast.

Heading in a different direction? Here are a few distractions for the weekend…

This fascinating TED talk about our relationship to technology

Some more ideas about how to ditch the city for good

A new magablog (did I just write that?) from the natural foodists (and that?) at Pressed Juice

Something excellent for your favorite kitchen compulsive (and the site has tons of other fun stuff)

A compelling reason to get to Philly early in the morning (notice who makes the spices)

Another fun alternative to the deli cup

My favorite things to sleep/lounge/loll about in

A bottomless pit of inspired imagery

A fabulous new oxymoron: locally-made copper

Another reason to dream of spring

The long-awaited answer to What on earth do I do with this?

The perfect Valentine’s Day gift for yourself

Have a beautiful weekend! xo

Angelica, known in some parts as Holy Ghost or Wild Celery, is a member of the genus Umbelliferae, which also endows the kitchen with parsley, carrot, parsnip, fennel, anise, coriander, celery, dill, cumin, lovage and caraway. Its subtly sweet flavor hints at many if not all these sister plants, with prominent notes of licorice and celery. Its botanical name, angelica archangelica, derives from the legend that it was the archangel Michael who told of its medicinal use, and every part of the plant has been prized for centuries for remedies addressing diverse complaints, especially digestive and bronchial problems. The leaves are used for tea; the roots and seeds flavor wine and spirits, including gin, Chartreuse, Bénédictine, vermouth and absinthe; the ground dried root and candied stems are added to baked goods; and the fresh leaves enliven salads, soups, stews, custards and ice cream. A flute-like instrument with a reedy sound can even be made of its hollow stem (entertaining for kids), and I’ve also seen the stems used as straws for drinks.

in full flower

Angelica comes up early and faithfully every year in my garden, along with the rhubarb and the bee balm. Many old recipes specify that angelica should be cut sometime in April for candying. Early May is probably also OK; you just want to be sure that the stems are still green and not becoming horsey and purplish. Once the plant blooms, it’s probably too late to harvest them for this purpose. The way the weather has been going this winter, I wouldn’t be surprised to see its green head crowning any time.

One note on harvesting angelica: The plant is full of terpenes, a resin-like organic compound that is released more actively in warmer weather. Be sure to wear gloves and long pants when cutting angelica, as any “juice” that gets on you will react with sunlight and can cause a terrible burn that may scar.

stem the tide

In the past, I have used the leaves to make angelica butter, but last spring I decided to candy the stems. To my shame, they’ve been sitting unused in a jar since then. This might be the moment to try some sort of extreme fruitcake, although it would also be good in gingerbread or biscotti, I think.

follow the hollow

A little research turns up surprisingly consistent recipes for candying angelica stems. It’s a bit of a process, as the stems can be tough and stringy, sort of like cardoons or old celery. I love this old gem, from The Accomplished Housekeeper and Universal Cook published in London in 1717:

“Gather your Angelica in April, cut in lengths, and boil it in water till it becomes tender. Having put it on a sieve to drain, peel it, and dry it in a clean cloth, and to every pound of stalks take a pound of double-refined sugar finely pounded. Put your stalks into an earthen pan, and strew the sugar over them. Cover them close, and let them stand two days. Then put it into a preserving-pan, and boil it till it is clear. Then put it into a cullender to drain, strew it pretty thick over with fine powder sugar, lay it on plates, and dry it in a cool oven, or before the fire.“

And that’s pretty much what I did. I added a touch of baking soda which helps the angelica retain its glorious green color.

drenched in sugar syrup

Over several days, you pour hot sugar syrup over the angelica stems four times, draining them and then drying overnight each time. On the last day, you drain the syrup into a saucepan and cook it to 245º. Then you add the angelica to the pot and boil it until the stalks look translucent. For longterm storage, you can either leave the stems in the syrup (refrigerate or can), or remove the stems to a drying rack and sprinkle them with sugar to crystallize them, which is what I did.

squirreled away

If your curiosity is piqued, but not enough to make your own, you can buy candied angelica here. They are out of stock now, but try checking back in the late spring.

In the meantime, in case you happen to have some candied angelica hanging around—or are simply inspired to try an old school fruitcake—here’s an intriguing recipe loaded with candied fruit, butter and eggs from none other than Martha Washington. I read both that she prepared it for George in celebration of their wedding anniversary, and that she baked it for her grandmother. Either way, it’s an 18th-century classic, worth revisiting 300 years later. Talk about history in the making.

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I am officially obsessed with black walnuts. It may be some sort of genetic thing. As far back as I can remember, my mother was always craving black walnut ice cream. It used to make an occasional appearance at our local ice cream parlor in Santa Cruz, but since that heyday it seems to have completely fallen off their still impressive roster of flavors. Were she still alive, I could now proudly present my mom with a bowl of the stuff, made by me from walnuts gathered on a friend’s land. This particular wild-crafted version may have been a one-time thing, though. Why? you ask. Well, that would be because of the incredibly labor-intensive ordeal it is to process black walnuts. After we’d endured it, we discovered that these nuts can actually be purchased at nutsonline for a mere $13 a pound. Shelled. By hand. (They must have some illegal Guatemalan children doing the work.) Anyway, G doesn’t agree, but I think it was worth the effort. Full disclosure: He did most of it. But the ice cream was incredible. Divine. The best yet. Made with a recipe from Jeni’s Splendid Ice Creams, of course.

in their green husks they look a bit like tennis balls

The Eastern black walnut, julans nigra, is a species of flowering tree in the walnut family that’s native to eastern North America. It’s a forest tree, also cultivated for its high quality wood. The extraction of the kernel from the fruit of the black walnut is legendarily difficult. It has a thick, hard husk that it easiest removed when green and pliable.

left to their own devices, they can turn black and moldy

If you don’t remove them when green, they turn black and can begin to mold. Apparently this affects the flavor of the nut as well, giving it even more cheesy, fermented notes. I’m not sure if this is true, since we did two batches—one green and one black— and I didn’t separate them. Either way, they were all delicious.

something’s rotten

G said it was horrible to remove the husks once they had gone all black and soft. There was a gooey reside that stuck to the ridged shells despite much brushing with wire bristles.

show me the glove

Industrial-strength gloves are essential any time you’re dealing with black walnuts to contend with their deeply staining pigments and tannins. They exude a brownish-black dye that was used by early American settlers to dye hair. This natural dye is still used for handicrafts and as a wood stain and dark ink. (Scroll down here to see artist Michael Capotosto’s mural painted with black walnut oil on my friend Scott’s wall.)

vise squad

G got a special table vise to remove the husks. This is the first step of the process, after you’ve collected the walnuts from the ground, where they fall from the tree when they’re ripe.

newly shelled

The thick hard shell is tightly bound to the husk by very deep ridges. Once removed, the nuts must be left to dry in their shells for several weeks. You can crack one open periodically to monitor the progress.

vise president

When the nuts were dry, G brought them inside, attached the vise to a bench in front of the fireplace, and proceeded to crack all the shells. (The mess it made almost gave me an anxiety attack.) Then the two of us sat there for many, many hours and picked the nut meats out. This is where a large family would be quite useful; a passel of kids, say, or even a few spinster aunts with idle time on their hands.

a tough nut to crack

Black walnut shells are not only much, much harder than English (Persian) walnuts, they are also much more furled and complicated inside. We used slender nut picks and all sorts of tools plucked from my arsenal of manicure supplies. This is the type of work from which you can go blind. I have to admit, I find this sort of thing rather fun.

go nuts

Once out, the nuts came to a paltry 4 or 5 cups. But their flavor goes such a long way. I know I’ve already waxed poetic about them, but you have to try black walnuts to appreciate how unique they are. Rich, complex, musky, winey, sweet, umami. Jeni describes them as having “notes of honey, celery leaves, vanilla and wine with a lush, fragrant finish.”

died and gone to heaven

And combined with cream? Nirvana. On Christmas Eve, we ate black walnut ice cream with a pear upside-down cake. A few days later, G and I polished off the rest draped in bittersweet chocolate sauce. That was perfection. But the cake was pretty good, too. I probably won’t make it again because it’s a little too “white” for me, but you might like to try it.

perfect pears

I used this recipe from Karen DeMasco, pastry chef at Locanda Verde (and, formerly, Craft) who has a way with all things sweet and baked.

fancy, but easy

You make some caramel (or, like me, use some coconut caramel from a jar you have on hand), artfully arrange some juicy slices of pear on top and pour a cornmeal-enriched cake batter over that.

cool off

It’s incredibly simple. The cake is pleasantly dense and not too sweet, the caramel seeps into the top layer and the pears give it a glamorous look.

right side up

For us, though, the cake was really an under-appreciated foil for that ice cream. Black walnuts are just that powerful. I like to think my mother stirred in her grave.

I believe this is the first time I’ve posted one of Jeni’s recipes for you. She has a very particular way of making ice cream that uses no eggs, but almost always incorporates a little cream cheese and a couple of tablespoons of corn syrup. These make a huge difference in the texture. You will be truly amazed at how smooth and creamy your ice cream turns out.

On New Year’s Eve, just before midnight, we went for a much-needed hike along a country road, four of us and a white dog that showed up like a ghostly spectre against the pitch-black night. We huffed and puffed in the bracing air, our stomachs heavy with brisket, risotto and many flavors of Jeni’s ice cream, straight from the source and drizzled with various homemade sauces (salty caramel, bittersweet chocolate, raspberry). It was actually the second hike of the day for G and me. That afternoon, we’d walked deep into the woods as we had our annual chat, reflecting back on the year gone by and discussing our hopes for one ahead. 2011 got a mixed review, mostly due to a certain broken leg that took the better part of 8 months (and counting) to fully heal. We are both committed to getting into fighting shape this winter and planning some physically challenging trips in the coming years, possibly including climbing Mt. Kilimanjaro. But in general we want to simply continue on our paths, doing more of what we love and getting better at it.

Here are a few highlights from the year, as I shared it with you in this space we inhabit together. The first is the multi-tasking goddess, above, a new icon for my blog commissioned from illustrator extraordinaire Liselotte Watkins.

a meating of minds

The amazing Mrs. Wheelbarrow initiated the madness that is Charcutepalooza, and I participated for a few months (until I had to fly off to Indonesia). I learned to make my own pancetta and sausage!

nice to sea you

There was fun in the sun in Todos Santos, Mexico, and Antigua.

a warm welcome to indonesia

I flew to the rescue of my injured husband, and wound up having a blast in the markets of Yogyakarta.

the sights and tastes were endlessly exotic

the culture there is ancient and rich

back home, we managed to get the garden going

and even hosted our annual july 4th bbq (my hero!)

i spent lots of time in the woods

and they yielded an incredible bounty of mushrooms

beyond my wildest dreams (oh, and my grey hair grew in)

there were fruity cocktails

and preserving galore

fun road trips

and countless outings in the city

the glory of eating only from local farms

and many treats from my own kitchen

there were shared bonfires

quiet evenings at home

and others out in the world

in all things, i was aided and abetted by the divine titi

and my own true love (making a rare appearance)

Remember, it’s about wanting what you have, not having what you want.

What’s on your mind for 2012? I’d love to know what you’d like to discover this year, and where you’d like me to take you. Do tell…

You’ve earned it. The right to put your feet up. To zone out. To nap. To sit in front of the fire reading that book that’s been tempting you for months. To try a new recipe, listen to music, have a long, meandering chat with a loved one. To trawl the interwebs for loot. To watch silly YouTube videos, favorite movies and fabulous TV shows. To stuff your face. To get drunk or high, or both. To go for a run, a ride, a hike. To pray, to celebrate, to review the past year and meditate on the future. To be grateful for what and whom you have. Remember, even though the kids are melting down and your mother-in-law is irritating and your sister is crying and your husband is gone: This is your time. Carve out some space for yourself and do exactly as you please.

Here are some links I’ve been compiling for you. May they bring you pleasure, inspiration, knowledge and fun, as you sip some delicious wine (or sparkling cider) and dream of what’s to come.

Enhance your kitchen with something from this list; or from here.

Make yourself a nice cup of tea, or play around with some of these recipes.

Dream about next year’s garden.

Sip something new; or this.

Try a new hairstyle.

Feel good (or better, anyway) about shopping for clothes.

Explore the possibilities of bitters; and salts.

Cook a big pot of this and make these.

Learn how to turn Facebook into something useful.

Fantasize about your own slice of paradise.

Treat yourself to a new mug.

Look at this.

Check out this blog; and this one; and this one; and this one; and this one.

I wish you the very merriest Christmas, peace on earth and more good will than words can say.

We came. We cocktailed. We conquered. I feel hungover this morning, but not from drinking. Last night’s event was both energizing and exhausting, and I think we can say it was an unqualified success. More than 200 people turned up at Warby Parker’s Holiday Spectacle Bazaar to visit Best Made Company‘s pop-up shop and sip Glutton for Life cocktails made with foraged ingredients and Stranahan’s Colorado whiskey. Although I think of myself as a bit of a grumpy misanthrope at times, I was deeply happy interacting with all the lovely people (old friends and new) that stopped by my little makeshift bar to sample the evening’s three specialties: The Nutty Professor, Pining for You and Drunken Indian Lemonade. The mood was very festive and everyone really seemed to be having a good time, especially after a cup of the Johnny Appleseed Punch.

truly spectacular

All hail, Warby Parker, for conceiving this ongoing holiday extravaganza, along with their co-horts, Partners and Spade. Not only do they make excellent, affordably priced and very stylish eyeglasses, but they are a company with a social conscience. And I would be remiss here if I failed to mention the three lovely muses, Kaki Read, Isabel Seely and Jamie Arendt. They went to heroic extremes to make sure last night’s event was a success and looked beautiful doing it.

a man on a mission

Kudos, too, to the always game and very debonair Peter Buchanan-Smith (above left), for inviting me to participate in such a great event. He is a true glutton for life, with an admirable approach to squeezing the most out of every moment. And he makes a mean axe.

axe me no questions

People were drooling over the gorgeous Best Made axes, on view and for sale through the weekend at the first yurt inside the Warby Parker Bazaar at 45 Grand Street. Every Williamsburger worth his whiskers should own one of these.

we are family

Things would have gone south very quickly for me behind that bar were it not for the support of my beloved sister-in-law (visible here for the first time). A recent graduate of ICE and currently spending time in the kitchen at Stone Barns (oh, the burning envy), she handled the chaos like a pro.

smart cookie

Other highlights included the truly scrumptious savory cocktail biscuits I ordered from CookiebarNYC, a new collaboration between the legendary Dorie Greenspan and her adorable son Josh. The two of them recently went on Martha Stewart’s show to talk about their new creations. I first learned about these adult cookies in November’s Food & Wine and meant to attempt to whip up some in my own kitchen. Casting about for something “brand-right” (can’t believe I just wrote that) to go with my cocktails, I found that you can now order these in quantity. We had 4 flavors, each one better than the next: cocoa-cayenne, cranberry 5-spice, sesame-sea salt and rosemary-parmesan.

wild things

I brought evidence of the foraged ingredients that went into my cocktails: white pine, black walnuts and red staghorn sumac. People were quite fascinated by all this nature stuff.

take a bough

White pine is loaded with vitamin C and was consumed by American Indians during the winter months to ward off the scurvy that plagued the pioneers. You can brew the needles for tea, or eat the tender inner parts of the bark. I made a simple syrup with honey and steeped the needles and thin branches in it. The flavor is very similar to the smell, though a bit more subtle: green, bracing, slightly sharp. I paired this syrup with lemon juice, the whiskey and a spritz of absinthe to finish which gave it an even greener, more herbal note. (If you can’t or won’t find fresh white pine, I recommend this as a substitute.)

nuts to you

The black walnuts were foraged from my friend Julia’s property and were something of an ordeal to extract. G said “never again.” Their shells are hard as a rock and the inner-workings so furled and gnarly that they require endless hours of excavating with small picks and nail files. The kind of obsessive work I actually enjoy, when I have unlimited time on hand, which is never. It was fun to give people a taste of the actual black walnuts, which are quite different from the usual kind. They have a strong umami element, an almost cheesy, winey, fermented flavor that is very rich and complex. I made a syrup with demerara sugar and steeped the walnuts in it overnight. This I combined with the whiskey and a bit of heavy cream for a truly delicious drink with a very unique flavor.

so sumac me

The American Indians also made a kind of tea with the velvety red cones of the staghorn sumac. Tart and beautifully scarlet, it earned the name Indian lemonade. If you can’t collect your own sumac, it’s easily found in the spice section because it’s a popular ingredient in Middle Eastern cuisine. Brew it as you would tea, and strain before using. It’s nice hot, with honey, or chilled and served over ice. I combined this “tea” with the whiskey and maple syrup for a riff on our house cocktail, The Eldred.

just saying

To those of you who stopped by, many thanks for sharing the moment. To all those who couldn’t make it, you were there in spirit. And now, you can head to the liquor cabinet and recreate these cocktails at home. Cheers!

(Note: I know I promised to post my holiday musical recommendations, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until Monday for that. I beg your pardon, dear readers…)

We took advantage of the nice weather the other weekend to really put the finishing touches on the garden. The beds got a last weeding and were cleared of everything but a few kale and collard plants. All the pots had to be emptied and many of the perennials trimmed back. Living closer to the land like this makes you much more aware of the seasons and so of the passing of time. I look down at my hands stuck in the dirt, the beginning of arthritis just starting to swell a few knuckles, and I see my mother’s hands. I was blessed with long, slender fingers and have been proud of my hands all my life, but this, along with my dark hair, is just one of the many vanities the years will strip from me. In return I have gained other things, including the pleasure of hearing G crow upon finding a cache of brilliant pink potatoes buried under the straw where he planted seeds late last summer. He had given up all hope of success in this department, so the discovery was that much sweeter. Have you ever seen such a vividly colored spud? I cut one open and was amazed to find that it was a rosy pink inside, and unbelievably crisp and juicy, almost like an apple. The freshest potato I’ve ever encountered and a sight to behold.

from the ground up

Potatoes are starchy tubers from the nightshade family and there are more than a thousand varieties. These are Cranberry Reds. The origin of the word “spud” has erroneously been attributed to a 19th-century activist group dedicated to keeping the potato out of Britain which called itself The Society for the Prevention of an Unwholesome Diet. It actually derives from early versions of the word “spade,” the tool used to plant potatoes.

the other artichoke

I came across a couple of gorgeous varieties of these Jerusalem artichokes at the Union Square farmers market and couldn’t resist buying a big bag. Then I had dinner at a friend’s house and he made a really delicious, creamy and earthy soup from them which further confirmed that I need to eat more of these “earth apples.” They’re actually a species of sunflower—thus their other name, sunchoke—and have nothing to do with either Jerusalem or artichokes. Sweet and nutty, they can be roasted, boiled or eaten raw, shaved thin in salads. They are high in potassium, iron and fiber. Some people find them challenging to digest but I haven’t noticed any adverse effects.

a vegetative state

A quick perusal of the vegetable bin revealed a veritable arsenal of roots, including carrots, parsnips and celeriac. I decided to roughly chop all this bounty, together with copious amounts of onion, shallot and garlic. Tossed with good olive oil, coarse sea salt and lots of aleppo pepper—a fruity, slightly spicy chile with a note of cumin—this was spread on a foil-lined baking sheet and tucked into a 375º oven.

a good roasting

What emerged after an hour or so, was a softer, sweeter, caramelized and more fragrant version. I ate a big bowl for lunch, with a bit more olive oil and sea salt. So unbelievably good.

homegrown spuds

G’s spuds are sweet and pure, tasting of the earth and sky. I married a potato farmer.

The nasturtiums were among the last things to flourish in the garden, along with mint, rosemary and a host of straggling green tomatoes. Kale and collards are still hanging on, but these vibrant blooms gave up the ghost with the first hard frost. Fortunately, I had harvested a bunch after listening to a recent episode on NPR’s Splendid Table. I think I’ve mentioned before my deep and abiding love for host and über-mensch Lynne Rossetto Kasper. My favorite part of the program is when listeners call in to ask for her advice on any number of food and cooking issues. No matter how challenging or arcane the question, Lynne always has the answer. And she’s so warm and nurturing! I want to go to dinner at her house. Anyway, a woman called in wanting to know what to do with her bumper crop of nasturtiums, and Lynne suggested she candy the petals. Although I didn’t want to do this, it got me exploring other ways to use my nasturtiums. Lots of people are eating the flowers raw in salads, and using the peppery leaves to make pesto. But the idea of crushing the petals into a compound butter really captured my fancy.

wouldn’t you want to preserve these intense colors?

Compound butters are made by whipping herbs, spices or aromatic liquids into softened butter. It’s then reformed, usually in plastic wrap or parchment paper, and chilled until it’s firm enough to be sliced. These butters can be melted on top of meats and vegetables or used to finish a sauce.

these buds are for you

Incidentally, you can also pickle the immature nasturtium seeds, these caper-like berries that are produced at the end of the bloom. They have a very strong almost horseradish-like flavor that is an intense version of the peppery taste of the leaves.

soaking the petals

The petals have the mildest flavor of all the edible parts of this plant, and a delicate, almost velvety texture. Once you’ve plucked them, it’s a good idea to give them a good soaking, unless you want a little extra protein in the form of some insect friends.

measure out one cup

grind the petals in a mortar and pestle

the colors are just insane

Pounding the petals releases a beautiful saffron-hued juice and seems to intensify all the colors.

use a flexible spatula to mix the crushed petals into the butter

Bring your butter to room temperature so it’s soft enough to mix easily. I used one packed cup of nasturtium blossoms to one stick of unsalted butter.

wrap it like a little sausage

Shape the compound butter into a log using saran or parchment paper, and refrigerate it until quite cold.

make it snapper

When I saw the gorgeous pink skin of this wild snapper, I knew it would be the perfect canvas for the nasturtium butter. When I roast a whole fish, I always serve it with a drizzle of olive oil and some coarse sea salt, but a slice of butter also works beautifully.

tomato-lemon chutney

With the last bowl of green, yellow and reddish tomatoes that sat languishing (and attracting fruit flies) on our kitchen counter, I made a batch of chutney. I used a couple of Meyer lemons, rind and all, some Indian spices (fenugreek, mustard seed, nigella) and that ginger-infused palm sugar and cooked it down to a thick, jammy consistency. I spread some of this inside and out on the fish before roasting.

fish out of water

I also stuffed all the cavities with more sliced Meyer lemon and sprigs of cilantro.

a bit of rye humor

While this 2 1/2 pound fish roasted in a 450º oven for about 25 minutes, I sipped my version of a Manhattan: rye whiskey, cherry liqueur, lemon juice, a little maple syrup and some preserved sour cherries, over ice with a twist of orange rind. I read recently that women who have one alcoholic drink a day are healthier overall and live longer. Hmmm…

butter it up

A slice of subtly peppery nasturtium butter with this flaky mild fish and a crystalline sprinkling of Maldon sea salt was pretty much perfection. G and I gobbled up the whole fish with pureed Purple Viking potatoes (my favorite) and garlicky sauteed chard on the side. This is a very easy weeknight dinner that comes together in under an hour. From what I gather, many of you would be glad to have more simple, time-efficient recipes for healthy meals. True?

I heard a rumor we are expecting snow showers next week—can you imagine?! An impending hard frost inspired G to bring in a huge batch of green tomatoes from the garden, the last ones clinging to the now-scraggly vines. Initially, I was a tad exasperated. But then I remembered to be grateful. Not to go all Pollyanna on you, but it’s an interesting challenge to turn everything into a positive. The old lemons into lemonade philosophy. Not that a bumper crop of green tomatoes really has anything to do with that. And once they were turned into a tart-sweet, highly spiced chutney—thanks to inspiration from Winnie’s Healthy Green Kitchen—I looked at those lovely jars stacked up and felt nothing if not happy. Like all the other animals at this time of year, I’m loading up the larder with stores for the winter.

greens keeper

I could imagine this recipe might work with tomatillos as well, but I think they would fall apart quicker and give you a gloppier consistency. Although they are totally different things, green tomatoes do have a similarly bright and acidic flavor.

more green stuff: serrano chiles

I’m sure you already know this, but to moderate the heat in chiles, you simply remove the inner white “spine” and attached seeds. This is where much of the capsaicin resides.

palm sugar infused with ginger

G made some new friends when he was on his (leg-breaking) shoot in Indonesia, and they sent us some of their wonderful products. Big Tree Farms, on the lush slopes of Bali’s second highest volcanic peak, are creators of artisan foods. I’m going to do a whole post on them soon, but wanted to introduce you here to their amazing palm sugars. For this chutney I used one infused with peppery ginger.

ginger-infused palm sugar

Most palm sugar comes in unwieldy clumps or “loaves,” but Big Tree has found a way to grind theirs, applying a dry heat to create a soft, crumbly texture that is very easy to use.

they also have a plain version, and one infused with turmeric

Decidedly Indian in flavor—thanks to ginger, garlic, chiles, fenugreek, mustard seeds, coriander, cumin and cayenne—this lovely, jammy chutney hits all the notes: hot, sour, salty and sweet. I ate mine with some of that mild dhokla from the other day, but I can imagine it perfectly accenting a curry, a piece of grilled salmon, a lamb burger or a cheese sandwich.

stirring the pot

You just dump everything into a big pot and walk away for a couple of hours, coming back occasionally to give it a stir. In the end, you’ve reduced a big pile of unripe (unwanted?) tomatoes into a luscious condiment that will turn others green with envy.