I was struck by how much this pumpkin stem reminded me of an umbilical cord. Which, in fact, it is. Through this ropey connection, now so beautifully gnarled and withered, the plant takes life from a root ball that is essentially the placenta. And the resulting pumpkin? A baby, of course! Chubby cheeked and ruddy, with sweet, tender flesh. The comparison goes South when you consider the tough exterior—this baby means business. Hardy enough to spend the cold months solo down in your root cellar (or most any consistently cool, dry place), pumpkins are a great sort of sustenance during the winter. They can go sweet or savory: custard, ice cream, quickbread, ravioli, risotto...they are endlessly adaptable. At a recent lunch, the discussion had already turned to Thanksgiving recipes, so I want to make sure you consider my favorite pumpkin custard with candied pumpkin seeds and gingered crème fraîche as a candidate for your holiday dessert. It's foolproof, can be made ahead, and I've never heard anyone complain about the lack of crust (usually sodden anyway).
Read More...

Clearly, this was a banner year for winter squash. We planted a single plant and in return reaped this one mini Blue Hubbard in the foreground, above. But at Riverbrook Farm, they've been harvesting them by the barrel. In the back is a Cinderella pumpkin, a beautiful French heirloom also known as Rouge Vif d'Etampes. It first became available in the U.S. in 1883. The bumpy one at left is called Marina di Chioggia, another heirloom, this one with roots in the Italian coastal town for which it's named. The rich sweet flesh is deep yellow-orange and especially prized for making gnocchi. (Stay tuned later this week!) The other greyish one is an Australian variety—can't remember what it's called. They had at least a dozen varieties at the farm and I was a bit overwhelmed by the choices. Resting on top is the lovely striped Delicata. I would imagine it got its name from its thinner skin, or possibly from the fine-textured golden flesh that has a sweet, nutty flavor. I roasted mine and stirred chunks of it, along with flecks of smoked ham and fresh sage, into a risotto made with brown carnaroli rice.
Read More...

Squash and gourds have arrived! I'm planning to really load up when I visit the farm next weekend as Alice has so many gorgeous heirloom varieties. For now I just grabbed a green kabocha and a gorgeous brilliant orange mini Hubbard. Hubbards are my favorite variety, and we actually managed to produce a blue one ourselves in this year's garden. They have a wonderfully sweet and rather dry flesh that roasts up beautifully. Last fall, I invented this very easy and delicious way to stuff any whole squash; I find that roundish ones work best. Small ones are ideal for one or two people, or you could do a great big one for a dinner party. The presentation is lovely and rather dramatic. I use whatever vegetables I have on hand, and it's an ideal way to use up leftovers, because rice, stale bread, bits of ham—anything, really (dried fruit, seeds, tofu)—can go in there. A little cheese is always nice, so now that G is back on dairy (sad to report that 2 months without it, plus a whole slew of tinctures and Chinese herbs, did nothing for his chronic gut pain) I mixed in some fresh mozzarella from our local dairy. This is a very cozy and hearty dish, economical and full of nutrition.

Read More...

The tomatoes just keep on coming. Every morning, G goes out to the garden to poke around, and inevitably returns with a handful of cherry tomatoes, some kale, maybe a squash, and lately the big yellow beefhearts. This week I made an Indian dal with lentil-flour flatbreads and a tomato chutney spiced with curry leaves and black mustard seeds. Tomorrow, I'm planning to serve icy cold bloody marys made with fresh tomato juice and spiked with celery bitters and horseradish. What do you make when you have a surplus of tomatoes? It's been raining for about 24 hours straight at this point, so a pot of soup is really a no-brainer. I think this creamy, dairy-free version is just what the doctor ordered. 
Read More...

The last of the tomatillos came off the vine this week. You know they're ripe when the papery husk grows tight. I love how these are tinged with lavender. They're a different kind than the smaller, all-green ones we harvested last year, though they have the same vegetal yet citrusy flavor. I whipped up a large batch of sauce—a slight variation on my usual recipe—some of which I'll use for enchiladas, and the rest will be frozen. The light, tangy sauce is chunky with bits of onion and pepitas (green pumpkin seeds) and is beautifully spiced with jalapeño, garlic, cumin and coriander.

I finally made the tomato aspic! I found the perfect mold the other day at a local antiques shop that sells lots of great kitchen paraphernalia. (They also had some wonderful lidded earthenware crocks that will be perfect for pickles.) And with our many heirloom tomatoes crying out to be used the time was—dare I say?—ripe. The whole process could not have been easier, and I am already fantasizing about delicious desserts that will not hover forever about my waistline. Concord grape jello? Hello? I'll be playing around with honey and agave nectar as sweeteners, and seeing what happens when I substitute agar agar for the gelatin. Savory aspics are divine in their own right. A slice of cucumber aspic with tiny poached shrimp, perhaps. Beet aspic with creamy goat cheese and walnuts? Gorgeous! But let me tell you about the tomato aspic and how it plopped out perfectly, with a gentle wiggle and a color like the blush in a virgin's cheek.
Read More...

A tomato by any other name...My friend Nina told me that she dubbed my delectable Spicy Tomato Jam (which I can't recommend highly enough as a way to use some of the many tomatoes flooding your farmers market at this very moment) Love Apple Jam and gave jars of it away as the favor at her wedding. Genius! Tomatoes were probably given this lightly erotic moniker due to their alleged aphrodisiac qualities. We all know how lusty those Italians are, right? At any rate, if you're not making jam with your love apples, you're undoubtedly dabbling in sauce. ("Gravy," if you're Italian-American, or have watched too many Sopranos episodes.) We have several divine varieties of heirloom tomatoes that G brings in by the armload every day and I've been making batches of sauce and freezing them—in glass jars, in ziploc bags—to squirrel away for the winter months. Can you just imagine eating spaghetti with sauce made from your own tomatoes in the middle of January?
Read More...

Bear with me as I learn to use G's camera. I prefer to do things I'm already good at (I know that's so wimpy), so this means going beyond my comfort zone. That said, I'm having fun with it and it may ultimately mean more photos of dishes in progress, which might be helpful for you. Now, to artichoke hearts. I love the rich, buttery goodness that lies nestled within all those leathery leaves, the secret heart buried in this armored flower. But I'm not the hugest fan of the canned variety, finding them a bit slimy and strangely acidic, nor of the marinated kind in a jar that often swim in insipid oil. So what's a glutton to do but try to make them from scratch? Believe it or not, I couldn't find a recipe that didn't start with either big globe artichokes or a bag of frozen hearts. And what I had were these little beauties...
Read More...

There's scarcely a better way to combat a heat wave than with a cold soup. The recent rise in mercury has prompted a spate of dinners at home consisting of nothing more than salads, so the occasional soup is a nice substitute or supplement. They keep fairly well and can be easily transported to work in a glass jar or thermos. (Try to wean yourself from phthalate-ridden plastic containers; invest in a set of these.) Food52's cucumber challenge several weeks ago prompted a number of cold soups but most of them contained dairy, which we're currently avoiding because of G's latest protocol. Fellow blogger and extremely talented chef Pork to Purslane (currently residing in Amsterdam) submitted one that is rendered supremely creamy with the use of avocado. I adapted it according to my what I had on hand and my craving for a bit of spice.
Read More...

As promised, here is the recipe for lacto-fermented dill pickles. In case you've forgotten, that means they are preserved with salt and bacteria—there's no boiling of the brine or anything. It really couldn't be easier. With some cucumbers, some dill, a few cloves of garlic, salt and water, the magic of pickling takes place. They sit out on the counter for about 3 days while the lactobacillus does its thing. I made both spears and chips, and I think I'm going to like them even better after they've been refrigerated. I like that cold, crisp snap. Today I'm making ice cream and popsicles, so I probably won't post again until Monday, when you'll get a chance to see how the Pulled Pork Fest turned out. I hope you have a wonderful holiday weekend, full of sunshine and friends and treats and relaxation. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness: it's what we're all still entitled to, from sea to shining sea.
Read More...