Rr is for Rutabaga

You say Potato, I say Potawtoe - You say Parsnip, I say Parsnip - You say Turnip, I say Rutabaga 

     Actually, you may be saying “waxed turnip,” but no matter what you say, when the word rutabaga is uttered out loud you can’t help sounding as if you're from Boston, or is it Jersey?  I’m fairly certain those two accents are not the same, but for some reason I can’t tell them apart in my head at the moment.  However, I am pretty sure those few times when you do say rutabaga you’re not really sure what the difference is between turnips and rutabagas.  So I will enlighten you.

     Turnips are an easy to grow and popular European root vegetable.   Rutabagas are also an easy to grow, wildly popular European root vegetable.   The Swedes and the Finns are especially fond of rutabagas.  Both these Cinderella-like veggies can be boiled and mashed (like potatoes and parsnips and cauliflower, alone in a combination of), sliced or diced and roasted in olive oil and a good pinch of pink Himalayan salt, cubed or grated then fried with some butter and fresh herbs (like latkes) or simply julienned and eaten raw in salads.   Rutabagas often commonly referred to as “Swedes”  (“Neeps” in Scotland) or yellow or waxed turnips until the late ‘60’s but the term waxed or yellow was confusing for the average store clerk and consumer so rutabaga is now the label seen in your produce section of the market.  They are larger in size than turnips, have flesh that is more yellow in coloring, with a swipe of purple, carry a bit more starch than turnips and have a longer shelf-life.  Both these cool weather relatives of the cabbage family are available year round, with peak season for turnips from October to about February and rutabagas peaking from July through April . . . wait, what?  According to several other resources detailing what’s in season now, this is the season for rutabagas.  As a matter of fact harvesting is going on as I write this Blog in Washington State, Maine, Canada and Siberia.  Makes sense with its frost hardy propensities and love of long cold seasons and moist soils.  Whew! that was close – so I will continue with rutabaga as my seasonal Rr food of the month. 

  When asked about the similarities or differences in taste between rutabagas and turnips, I encourage those inquiring to sample them side by side, taking a bite of one then the other.  The rutabaga you will find is a bit sweeter, especially when roasted.  Higher in starch content, of course that would make them sweeter and they are easier to peel than turnips.  Both turnips and rutabagas are strong in potassium (rutabagas more so), vitamins A and C as well as carrying a bit of fiber.  And rutabagas have almost half as much natural sodium in them than turnips. 

     So what do we do with these bi-colour, bulbous things you ask?  Think in terms of a substitute for potatoes, parsnips and cauliflower.  Since my eldest son is a smashed potato connoisseur, I decided to test his taste buds by adding rutabaga to his favourite smashed potato recipe.  For myself some ruta-fries.

 Ruta-fries Recipe

Ingredients
1 russet potato - washed and peeled
2 rutabagas - washed and peeled
1-2 tablespoons olive oil
1-2 teaspoons kosher salt
1-2 teaspoons ground pepper
1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

Procedure
Slice peeled potato and rutabagas into thin rectangles.  Spread slices onto a sheet pan lined with parchment paper.  Evenly drizzle olive oil all over potato and rutabaga slices then sprinkle with salt, pepper and cayenne.  Using your hands, move seasoned potato and rutabaga slices all around, mixing olive oil and seasonings onto both sides of the slices.   Bake in 400 degree, preheated oven for about 35-40 minutes, until crispy and golden brown.

These are absolutely delicious and they're baked which makes them even better for you!

 Recipe for Potato-Rutabaga Smash

Ingredients
1 russet potato - washed, peeled and cut into medium cubes
2 rutabagas - washed, peeled and cut into medium cubes
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup whole milk               1/4 cup sour cream
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder   1/4 teaspoon dried dill
salt and pepper to taste

Procedure
Place cubed potato and rutabagas in large saucepot and fill with water to about 2 inches above vegetables.  Bring water to a boil, then reduce to simmer and cook until vegetables are soft but not mushy.  Drain ALL the water from saucepot and using your potato masher or potato ricer, begin smashing.  Add milk and mash some more.  Add sour cream and mash a little more.  Finally add all the seasonings and give the mixture a final mashing until it is the consistency you prefer.  I like a few lumps in my smashings, something to bite into.  My son loves the smooth, creamy version.

The yellowish cubes are the rutabagas, the whiter ones are the russet

Rutabaga Smash topped with gravy and garnished with dill 

Qq is For Quince (eventually)

Finally, after a summer’s worth of extended weekend retreats and vacations, I’m back on my computer.  Writing has become a daily endeavor and going days without doing so feels akin to not brushing my teeth.  I really miss it when I don’t do it. 

First was my trip to El Dorado Hills to visit my little sister.  

Here we hiked with my niece and grandniece in the wide open spaces of Coloma, a sleepy historic town just outside of Sacramento.  Then there was an night of line dancing and every bedtime, late night sister-talk.  One afternoon Sis and I decided to chance it and took in one of those Meryl Streep’s movies where she felt compelled to share her big love (not-so-big talent) for singing.  But we had fun anyway.  Afterwards we went back to the house and I turned Sis on to the joy of Burrata with red, ripe Roma tomatoes, fresh garden basil Chiffonade and a drizzle of thick, rich balsamic.

A few days later I took a trip to Palo Alto to visit old school chums and Mother.  For someone who has not lived in the Bay Area for well over nineteen years, my cravings for home are incessant.  While there I went shopping, ate in quaint and artistic restaurants and strolled my customary walk up Hamilton Avenue to Homer and Forest to my brother’s old condo (tears, tears, tears).   The tree he and Aviva planted from a seed is now as lush and vibrant green as my brother’s spirit.  

Then there was my quick turnaround to the Pacific Northwest where I was able to give smooches and hugs to my favourite grandson.  

Lastly was my annual girls’ weekend to the cabin in Duck Creek Utah.  While each venture offered  good times and exciting meals, not to mention plenty of fodder for writing, I came home tired and spent.  But not so much after the trip to “the cabin.”  If you can call it a cabin, our dear friend K who spent years of her life as an interior designer has created an environment that exceeds the décor and ambiance of most homes I’ve cooked in. 

Duck Creek boasts grand vistas, wild life ranging from blue birds and hummingbirds to deer and bears, all encompassed by those strange and magnificent Hoodoos.  In my opinion the states of Arizona and Utah seem to bear God’s expression of whimsy and fun.  Stunning red rocks stacked high in creative and precarious arrangements.   I swear He must have worn the same expression as my young sons when they would call me over to show off their own near toppling Leggo towers.  Hoodoos, I find to be both eerie and astonishing.  I can’t help but stare and gape in quiet admiration.

This summer however, our trip to the cabin was four minus one.  Nancy, K and I arrived mid-day, without Sooz, to that familiar Grape Nuts crunch of the gravel beneath the tires of our truck announcing our official escape from society, technology and stress.  Almost immediately following the unloading of our bags and turning on of the water we opened a bottle of wine and K prepared an utterly sumptuous opened face BLT, warm and crunchy, topped with a slice of marbled yellow and white cheddar.  We sat out on the back deck taking in deep, deep breaths.  The transformation one feels when leaving Vegas for the wide open spaces of Utah are swift and complete. 

Since we couldn’t quite justify sitting and drinking for the remains of the day, a short hike was in order.  Changing into heavy boots and donning light sweaters we made our way down the slopping driveway allowing K to bring Nancy and me up to date on the status of her neighbors.  After another hour or so we headed back and someone (I’m pretty sure it was me) announced it was five o’clock somewhere and poured more wine.  Ruminations about dinner were uttered.  Usually our fourth member organizes our meals and snacks, but since she was not with us, we decided to wing it.  Winging it turned out to be just fine.  I prepared dinner that night; pearled couscous with bits of sweet dried apricots, spiced up with red pepper flakes and topped with filets of wild-caught grilled salmon then garnished with a handful of microgreens.  Afterwards we all headed off to bed, satisfied and exhausted.

The following morning, we took our coffee and K’s freshly baked apple-cinnamon and cheddar scones back out to the deck.  Morning chit-chat while feeding the squirrels and wild birds was followed by yoga out on the front deck.  Then we excitedly changed our clothes to ride the Rhinos to the “shoppy-shops.”   Since we were down a girl I would be driving one of the Rhinos all by myself.  Boy was I ready, but damn.  After pulling them both out of the garage, my Rhino wouldn’t start up again, dead battery.  I was regaled to riding in the back of the other one, with Nancy and K in front.  WOW!  What fun!  I was whooping and hollering all the way down the mountain.  Four hours later with our loot in tow, we headed back up to the cabin.  By now it was almost two o’clock, waaaay past time for our first glass of wine of the day and another of K’s open faced sandwiches.  The Devil Wears Prada (no singing) then off to bed.

A quiet afternoon of reading, talking and Hoodoo gazing and before we knew it, the dinner hour was upon us.  As chef in residence I prepared the second evening’s meal of salad Nicoise.   Instead of the traditional tuna I substituted marinated chicken thighs and rich, creamy cannellini beans.  Of course I included the traditional capers and Greek olives then crowned each plate with a soft boiled egg.  I love anything topped with an egg.  K prepared sumptuous stuffed mushrooms as a side.  Earlier she had played around with her iPad and was able to pull up a movie for us to watch before bed.  Another Meryl Streep movie

 In only two days we already had a ritual in place, coffee and scones followed by yoga.  Nancy had some of her own writing to finish that morning so K and I set out on a two hour hike.  Beautiful scenery and not a sole around, only us and the visible tracks of deer and elk.  As we began to make our way deeper into the dark woods I told K, “It feels like bears around here.”  Her reply?  “Oh don’t worry, I’m packing.” 

“You’re packing?  Where?”

“Right here,” was her answer, as she patted her side. 

K went on to explain the name and type of armament she had strapped to her side.  She is a licensed and accurate dead eye diva, so I knew I was good hands.  Unfortunately her explanation of the fact that our protection was so small, and only powerful enough to scratch and irritate a bear, thereby pissing him (or her) off, I grew more nervous than ever!  “Do you at least have a whistle?” I asked.  Nope, no whistle, at that I announced we were going back down the trail.  Whew.  Just in time too, within moments we heard the sound of breaking branches ahead.  We stopped, frozen and quiet.  It was just a crazy cyclist.  How he was riding over fallen trees and such rough terrain on a bike is beyond me, but there he was. 

K and I made our way to the road, climbed back into the Rhino bumping and jostling our way to the cabin where I shared the thrill of our adventure with Nancy and K exhibited her find of a perfectly heart-shaped rock.

So what does all of this have to do with the letter Qq?  Well, for our final meal in the mountains that afternoon I assembled a snack platter of membrillo and cheese .  Membrillo is a wonderful, soft treat with a consistency similar to jello, and is made from quince.  Quince is a fuzzy, yellow-green skinned fruit that taste kind of like an apple and pear combined.  They’ve been around for hundreds of years.  The Romans used the fruit and flowers of the quince tree for the preparation of perfume and honey, in addition to eating the fruit itself.  Since it is naturally high in pectin quince makes for great jams, jellies and of course pastes.  Membrillo is a dense paste made with the pulp of the fruit and cooked with sugar, vanilla bean, fresh lemon and water until it becomes very thick turning a dark, ruby red color.  The mixture is then poured into a parchment lined cookie sheet or other pan and allowed to firm up.  When ready, slices of this sweet and sticky wine-colored jell is accompanied with manchego cheese and marcona almonds.  The girls loved it.  I can remember seeing small packages of membrillo on my grandparent’s kitchen table, but don’t recall ever eating it.  Not until I was an adult did I learn about this uniquely sweet, astringent condiment.  It’s really quite lovely (had to get a Qq in there somewhere).  

Why is it that no matter whether you are camping in a tent, a fifth wheel or camper or find yourself in a cozy cabin nestled on top of a mountain, nothing compares to food eaten in the great outdoors?  Whether you are enjoying the sticky sweet of s’mores or membrillo, hot dogs extended on wire clothes hangers or small squares of quince atop a lightly toasted round of sourdough bread accompanied by the famous cheese of La Mancha.  I am certain Don Quixote and Sancho indulged and enjoyed this delightful treat as they rode their steeds amid those windmills. I encourage you to give the elusive quince and membrillo, which you're likely to find in a specialty food shop.

 For Nancy, K and I, there was that one little matter of the minus of our fourth friend but as we sat quietly at the round checkered pattered table, gazing out the massive windows while savoring our platter of this traditional Spanish treat, each of us felt that sense of calm and rejuvenation that comes with being in nature.   

Peach Cobbler Recipe

Peach Cobbler

So, we have Cobblers, Crisps and Crumbles, Galettes, Crostadas and Turnovers, and of course Grunts and Slumps!  All of these wonderful dishes are filled with hot bubbling fruit amid a sweetened carb topping.  Of course they can also be prepared with savory fillings.  But what exactly is the difference between these homey, mom and apple pie treats you may ask.

I'll start with the Turnover since it is a rather distant cousin to the others.  Turnovers are simply pastry dough circles or squares folded into triangles or semicircles.  The edges are pinched closed to prevent any yummy filling from escaping.  The biggest difference here, is that Turnovers are prepared with layers of flaky puff pastry rather than singular pie crust.

My Mother and I ate Turnovers for Breakfast every morning for about a year!

Galettes and Crostadas are actually free-form tarts. No tart pan with the removable bottom is needed.  For these redolent confections, one prepares a basic pie dough, rolls it out, fills it with their fruit of choice then folds the edges around and over the filling.  These can be baked on a parchment lined sheet pan or in a deep-dish pie pan.  A very rustic and wonderful dessert for those of us who are pastry-challenged.  As for the difference between the two - none.  Galettes are French, Crostadas are Italian!  That's it.

You Say Galette I Say Crostada - Let's Call The Whole Thing Off

Now Cobblers, Crisps and Crumbles have become interchangeable monikers.  So let me clarify.  Cobblers are fruit desserts topped with a batter mixture which is more like biscuit than pie dough.  However, I like to prepare cobblers with a batter similar to cookie dough (sweet) as do many other cooks.  If you allow your eyes to look at the dish as a whole, and kind of unleash your imagination, the finished product does somewhat resemble a Cobbled Road, hence the name.  Now a Crumble is another dish of baked fruit.  These are topped with an oat-based streusel.  Yum!  Love streusel!  The brown sugar and butter, when mixed with the oats give you lots of "crumbly" texture.  While a Crisp, it's closest relative, also has a streusel topping but does not include oats.  Both offer a dandy, buttery finish to a hearty autumn meal.

A Stunning Blueberry Crumble

And just are Grunts and Slumps?  Well, to begin they are exactly the same thing, and are quite similar to Cobblers.  The difference between Cobblers and Grunts/Slumps is that while Cobblers are baked in the oven Grunts and Slumps are cooked on your stove top.  Most commonly in a cast iron skillet.  Then name Grunt came about because someone, somewhere decided the sound made by the fruit bubbling up from the batter sounded like grunting.  And Slump is the name given because someone else, some place else, decided that's what the dessert looks like when served on your plate.  Apparently there are many who agreed, as the names have stuck.

Stove-top Grunt or Slump - You Decide 

Oh! and there's one more, a Buckle.  A Buckle also used ripe fruit combined with a batter, but true Buckle recipes use a batter that is more cake-like.

So there you have it.  You now know the difference between Cobblers, Crisps, Crumbles and Buckles, Grunts and Slumps, Galettes and Crostadas.  I'm not going to even touch Brown Bettys!

Set Up - Not A Whole Lot Of Ingredients

Recipe for PEACH COBBLER

Ingredients

3 tablespoons unsalted butter – melted        1 teaspoon fresh lemon zest

1 cup all purpose flour                                 2 teaspoons baking powder                               

¾ cup granulated sugar + 2 tablespoons

1 large egg – room temperature                  1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

¾ cup buttermilk                                          ¼ teaspoon salt

2-2 ½ cups sliced, ripe peaches                  1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Equipment – 6 ramekins, parchment paper or silicone mat (silpat)

Preparation                                                         Preheat oven to 350 degrees

1)    Line a large sheet pan or jelly roll pan with parchment paper or a silpat.

2)    Using a small pastry brush or a wadded up paper towel, brush the entire interior of each ramekin with the melted butter, set aside on your lined sheet pan until ready to fill.

3)    In a mixing bowl combine peaches, 1 tablespoon of the sugar, lemon zest and cinnamon, set aside.

4)    In a separate medium mixing bowl, sift together flour, ¾ sugar, baking powder and salt.

5)    Using a large bowl, whisk egg into buttermilk – stir in vanilla extract.

6)    Gently stir dry ingredients into larger bowl with wet ingredients in 2 batches.

7)    Spoon about 2 tablespoons of batter into the bottom of each ramekin.

8)    Evenly distribute peach mixture among the six ramekins then pour remaining batter over the top.

You may sprinkle remaining tablespoon of sugar on top of the batter.  I do.

Bake in preheated oven for 35-45 minutes, until cobblers are golden brown in colour.

Serve with vanilla ice cream, whipped cream or my favourite, crème fraiche.

Big Flavor In a 4-oz. Ramekin

It's All About What's Inside - Right?

The Comfort of Home

Among the tall trees, long before Google and Facebook moved in, even before the terms “dot-commer” and “Silicon Valley” were invented, we lived here.  Bicycles outnumbered automobiles and the few restaurants that existed downtown or on California Avenue were mostly closed on Sundays, with the exception of Peninsula Creamery and Jim’s Coffee Shop.  We ruled those bike lanes as most of us didn’t yet own cars zipping our way up and down the bike lanes, doing our best to avoid Officer Banks, who drove around town in his beige Ford Pinto (the local police department’s vehicle of choice) spending his time busting everyone’s chops, including my brother Lawrence, “Bags” and a few others whom I won’t reveal here.

      

Some weekends when we weren’t attending football games, basketball games, or dance and piano lessons our weekends were spent at Frost Amphitheater swaying and singing to the music of Tower of Power, The Chambers Brothers, Jefferson Airplane, Sly And The Family Stone, The Sons of Champlin and a host of other rock bands.  God, those concerts were SO fun and, believe it or not, only about $11.00 to $17.00 for your ticket!

I recently spent a few days back in my home town of Palo Alto for a gathering of school friends.   It’s funny, I haven’t lived in the Bay Area for over twenty years, but I often feel terribly home-sick .  As soon as I disembark from my blue limo (Super Shuttle) and inhale the crisp clean air I feel a sense of peace.  I am awash with joy and that “coming home” euphoria only those of us who really grew up somewhere can feel.   I savor the cracks in the sidewalks.  We don’t have cracks in our sidewalks in Las Vegas we keep everything looking brand new here.  The old U.S. Post Office on Hamilton Avenue, designed by local architect Birge Clark, with its humongous and ornate light fixture in the foyer hangs today as it did in 1932.  In Vegas we pretty much implode everything that is old, preserving only a few remnants of signage at our Neon Boneyard museum.    

Not much has changed along our streets

 Today Palo Alto is a financial hub.  The amount of money and affluence present is obvious in the shoes and watches worn by the IT and Technology residents who now live there.  While the streets are lined with the same quaint, uniquely-styled homes we were raised in they are now well above the million-dollar mark.

One of those million dollar homes

It’s true, parking has become impossible and the number of people milling around downtown is almost overwhelming.  Back in the ‘70’s, Palo Alto was a far quieter, practically boring place on the weekends.  There was the annual art and wine festival, now Palo Alto hosts a myriad of art festivals and events almost monthly.  Even the well attended Saturday morning farmers market with its abundance of ripe fruit, organic vegetables, artisan breads and cheeses didn’t exist back then.

Which brings me to the food segment of this week’s Blog.   I should be focusing on a seasonal food/herb/ingredient that begins with the letter Qq.  That would be quince.  But quince isn’t actually in season until next month, so I will write about quince for my next entry.  This week I’d like to share with you the details of my experience and delight in a homey-heartfelt meal prepared for a mere 140 or so of us old Palo Altons.

I pulled into the parking lot at the Palo Alto Arts Center on Newell around 6:30 p.m.  Oh my gosh, there’s Mark Macres, and he’s wearing a suit!  I thought this was supposed to be casual!  A feeling of diminished confidence seeped into my pores.  Fortunately it lasted only a moment.  When I pulled into my parking space, another car pulled in next to me and there were my wonderful and beautiful friends, Janis, Terri, Jill and Jill’s little sister.  Terri was wearing jeans, white, but they were jeans none-the-less.  As we made our way into the Art Center, I hadn’t been there since my family hosted Lawrence’s funeral service, I felt a small gasp of breath catch in my chest.  But the feeling immediately dissipated as I was met with smiles and hugs from Judy, Allyson and Skeeter.  It was funny to see how some of us change while others are essentially the same.  Most of us have gained a few pounds and wear the wrinkles of worry and joy over our children or bear the badges of loves known and lost, or for many here, badges of honor for sustaining the love of a still intact marriage.   Wine glass in hand, I had to only look into the eyes to recognize those I competed against in track in, or who I missed the bus with on our way to summer school science class, or one who sat next to me in the car for Driver’s Education with coach “what’s his name.”

Conversations abounded;  “You look great,” “Are you still living in the Bay Area?” “Are you married?” “How many kids do you have now?”  Sometimes needing a quick peek at the name tag before inquiring.  I struggled to find my friend Sue.  “Where’s Sue?” I asked.  “She used to have long dark hair I lamented but I can’t find her.”  “Well didn’t you used to have long dark hair too Deborah?” someone asked.  Good point. 

As the sun went down, Sandra decided it was time to serve dinner.  Sandi is married to her high school sweetheart, Vince.  Actually I’m thinking they were Jr. High sweethearts.  He played football, very well and as I recall, was always kind hearted.  Sandi was rather tall and had the best pair of long, shapely legs in school.  And she loved to laugh.  My most memorable recollection of her infectious laugh involved our beloved Tony Rodriquez, Dickie Gould (I think), and our drama teacher Mrs. Atkinson, who possessed her own flair for the dramatic.  

 It was the end of the school year and Mrs. Atkinson was sitting in her “director’s chair” facing the stage  directing a small ensemble of students in the art of projecting.  Tony, Dickie, Sandi and I were bored and for some reason decided Mrs. Atkinson’s dramatic flair needed some taming.  Every day of our ninth grade year, Mrs. Atkinson wore colorful silk scarves to accent the tailored suits she wore.  One of her more dramatic behaviors was the way she would toss one side of the scarf around her neck to her back whenever it would fall forward.  On this particular day Mrs. Atkinson was so focused on the kids on stage she left the rest of her students to fend for ourselves.  But there was nothing to fend for, nothing to do, no scripts to rehearse so Tony deferred to his most high of talents; making us laugh. 

 Mrs. Atkinson threw her the one side of her scarf back over her shoulder for the twentieth time during that 40 minute class, Tony came up with an idea, a wonderfully, awful idea.  This scarf was just long enough to extend a bit down the back of Mrs. Atkinson’s upholstered chair.  As Sandi, Dickie and I watch in silent horror and mischievous glee, Tony crept up behind her and with a few pushpins he pulled from one of the classroom bulletin boards tacked the end of her scarf to the back of the chair, thereby securing our drama teacher to her seat.  So intent on her task, Mrs. Atkinson wasn’t the least bit aware of Tony crouching down behind her and pinning her scarf.  Tony was very careful as he worked.  It was amazing to all of us, as now every student observed his movements that our teacher couldn’t feel or sense what was going on behind her.  No one uttered a sound.  Then sloowly he crept back to his seat on the drama room couch with the rest of us to watch the drama unfold.  All we had to do was sit and wait for Mrs. Atkinson to jump up from her chair in heated passion, as she always did, to correct the actors on stage.  It didn’t take long, within minutes she was lunging out of her seat towards the stage only to be bounced back by the pinned end of her scarf, which promptly brought her back down into her seat like Ricochet Rabbit.  We howled with laughter, every one of us.   Sandi and I laughed so hard, we ran, holding hands, to the girl’s bathroom.  Of course no one confessed or ratted out the tacking down of our teacher.  Now I know this may read like a sick, adolescent joke, but that’s just what it was.  Because we were adolescents, but we weren’t sick, just rather bored.  And it really was so funny!

Here's The Original

So Good!!

Now that we’re grown we no longer play pranks on teachers, but Sandra and I do stay in touch due to our mutual love of cooking, especially cooking for others.  It was Sandra who prepared the beautifully presented crudités in glass, for our little gathering.  The jambalaya with shrimp, the pasta and salad with homemade focaccia bread on the side.  And for dessert Sandi’s Cobbler Cups.  Now if you’re lucky enough to live in the San Francisco or the Bay Area, then you’ve probably enjoyed one of her Cobbler Cups while attending a Giants or 49er’s game.  But since we all went to school together and this was a special event Sandra shared her talents and showed us the love by providing us with two versions of her Cobbler Cups, peach and mixed berry.  She also does one with apricots.  Sandi’s Cobbler Cups offer a hearty serving of fruit tucked into a flaky, buttery pastry then it’s all topped with a generous scoop of rich and creamy vanilla ice cream.  It’s obvious by the taste and texture Sandra uses wholesome ingredients.  I’ve seen on FB Vince’s expansive garden and the effort he puts into canning his harvest of fruits and vegetables.  Sandi’s pastry is sweet but overly so, yielding but hearty enough to stand up to a cup brimming with fruit.  At first bite your mouth is greeted by a provocative play of homespun goodness.   It was hot that weekend and spooning something so symbolic of summer was the perfect finish to a meal that made us feel more like members of Sandra and Vince’s family rather than just an eclectic group of friends.  Thank You Sandra!!

I can’t give you the recipe for her Cobbler Cups, you’ll have to go to Levi Stadium or AT&T Park for her original version  (or I believe you can order them and she’ll ship to you).  But I can share with you my go-to recipe for fruit cobbler.  

*Cobbler Recipe to Follow . . . . .

Pp Is For Plum

What grows in clusters is dark in skin color, round in shape and comes in as many varieties as apples?  Why it’s a Plum!  Though, as I mentioned, there are hundreds of varieties, Plums are divided into two distinct groups, Japanese Plums (these actually originated in China) and European Plums.  The difference being European Plums are sweeter and the more delicate Japanese Plums tend to be juicer.

 Plums don’t often find their way into my grocery cart.  Probably because too many times I’ve bitten into one that has resulted in my making an involuntary sour face similar to when I’ve eaten a Sweet Tart candy.  However, I chose wisely this week and my Black Plums are extremely sweet and juicy.  Whenever I come across a Plum “spin-off,” Plumcots and Pluots, I do buy them.   I have yet to find the Aprium, another Plum hybrid, which is predominately apricot with some Plum edging its way in.   Apriums are shaped like apricots and have fuzzy skin.  Pluots are more Plum than apricot, round in shape and the smooth skin of its Plum parent.  Plumcots were created by American horticulturist Luther Burbank, and are the sweetest of all the Plum spin-offs. 

Not too many ingredients - oh, eggs too. 

 Being it’s still summer, fruit remains the strong hold for my seasonal alphabet of foods.  Plums are in season from late May to early October.  Look for Plums that are firm but not so hard they don’t give a little when you apply a bit of pressure.  Avoid picking those with cracks, soft spots or brown discolorations.  Once home, keep them in your refrigerator for up to four or five days.  This is when you can enjoy their juicy, sweet slightly spicy flavor.  Beyond that time frame, your Plums would best be served up as an ingredient in a sweet or savory dish such as a galette, crostada, jam or sauce reduction.  Notice I didn’t include Plum Pudding.    

During the late seventies I worked as a waitress and cook in a small restaurant in downtown Palo Alto, called the English Tea Room.  It was here I learned to prepare good chicken and beef stocks from scratch and how to boil and prepare beef tongue which we used to make sandwiches on the thinnest of bread slices.  As a college student, I enjoyed my supervisor’s tutelage.  I learned the differences between Bass Pale Ale, Watney’s Red Barrel and Guinness Stout (to this day my favorite beer).  Of course I am well versed in the proper English preparation of Welsh Rarebit and English Trifle.  But we never did prepare Plum Pudding.  Though we did sell it proudly encased in tin containers decorated with patterns of traditional Tartan prints.

Our staff did everything, from waiting and bussing tables to cooking and keeping the bar.  Where, of course, there was always a good game of darts going on.  While working at the English Tea Room my skill at playing darts finally exceeded my skill as an archer.  One night, after hours, the son of the owner sat and enjoyed his Guinness as I wiped down tables and tended to general cleaning.  Looking up from his stein of beer, a bored Steven decided to challenge me to a game of darts.   I was more than glad to set down my mop, wipe my damp hands on the front of my bar-maids apron and fetch my personal set of darts from my locker.  My set was not nearly as ornate and opulent as the one Anne Boleyn reportedly gave to King Henry the Eighth in 1530, but they were the right weight for my hand, had slim barrels for tight groupings and the flights were really pretty.  Steven poured himself another beer then trickled a bit of his serving into a small glass for me.  I was still under 21. 

Holding my dart at eye level, right foot in front of the left, weight forward, and holding my body upright, careful not to lean forward, I released my first dart smoothly and with only a minimal amount of push.  My dart landed in the Red Bull of the 18, doubling my score from 18 to 36.  My next two throws were comparable.  Steven grunted a “pretty good for an American girl,” then grabbed his darts.  Two were tight in the middle, 50 points for the Red Bull, 25 points for the Green Bull, the third hitting the metal break causing it to fall to ground.  Steven, who hated looking stupid in front of American girls, mumbled something about the number of Guinness he had consumed.  Surprising Steven I beat him at his game.  A testament to what American girls can accomplish. 

Another English favourite - Herring Pie. 

 We put away our darts at the urging of my supervisor, Valda.  Wiping her own damp hands on the bar towel that hung from the ties of her floral printed apron, Valda pulled up a stool and announced we were done for the evening.  She meticulously brewed a cup of Earl Grey tea for herself as Steven poured himself a small glass of port.  I was still nursing the small amount of beer he shared with me earlier.  The three of us continued the conversation Steven and I had started before our dart game about other English traditions such as cricket, the Edinburgh Festival and of course British foods, such as Bangers and Mash, Bubble and Squeak, Hot Cross Buns (there’s even a song about them and it’s the only tune my little sister learned to play on the piano) Simnel Cake (a spicy cake layered with marzipan and served on Mother’s Day) and Spotted Dick (another pudding-like cake prepared with currants), which brought me back to wondering way no one has bothered adding Plums to Plum Pudding.   It was Valda who explained that “Pud,” as it’s affectionately called by many Brits, why there are no Plums in Plum Pudding.  Apparently during medieval England times, when this dish was created, the word Plum was used when referring to currants or raisins, which Plum Pudding is filled with.    

 

To celebrate the Plum in its own right I’d like to partake of the wealthy Brit’s tradition who enjoyed French cuisine by preparing a French dessert,  clafoutis.  Originally created in the Limousin region of France, clafoutis is a custardy, cake-like batter topped with fresh fruit.  Traditionally made with black cherries, but this week Plums!

Smells so good while baking!

A very easy and a most forgiving dessert for those of who are pastry challenged. 

Ingredients

2 tablespoons unsalted butter – room temperature              1 ¼ cups half and half

6 tablespoons granulated sugar  + extra for dusting pan       1 teaspoon vanilla extract

½ teaspoon almond extract                                                         zest of one lemon

4 whole eggs                                                                                  ¾ cup all-purpose flour

2-3 plums, sliced thin                                 

Confectioners and crème fraiche for garnish

Preparation                                                                          Preheat oven to 375 degrees

Generously grease a cast iron skillet with butter and dust with granulated sugar.

In mixing bowl add sugar, eggs, almond extract, vanilla extract, lemon zest and half and half, blend until well combined.

Mix in flour, batter will be thin.

Pour batter into prepared skillet and scatter sliced plums into batter.

Bake in oven for 30 minutes

Cake will be puffy and golden brown, but deflates quickly.  Sprinkle finished cake with confectioners sugar.  Spoon a dollop of crème fraiche ( or vanilla ice cream) on each serving. 

Light, sweet and oh so simple!

OOooh Ong Choy

They look like Morning Glories, but . . .

     You may know it as Water Spinach or Kangkong.  Until searching out seasonal foods beginning with the letter Oo, I had never heard of Water or Asian Spinach.  When I saw photos of it growing in its natural habitat it was obvious this would make for a stunning addition to any garden!  Ong Choy is reported to do very well in hydroponic systems, with one report indicating it is a rather prolific ground cover in hot climates.  That’s Vegas!  But I can’t say I’ve ever seen this plant used as ground cover in our valley.  Any Master Gardeners out there with information on growing this plant as ground cover please share.  If it’s indeed do-able I’d be interested in trying.  I think it's lovely, as the flowers look similar to Morning Glories, to which Ong Choy is related.  Another surprise, sweet potatoes happen to be a close relative, though I don't see the connection.   

A summer vegetable, Ong Choy, literally grows in the water ways of tropical and subtropical climates, loves lots of direct sunlight (Vegas) and can be rather invasive due to its abundant and fast growing nature.  The entire plant is edible, though it is not recommended it be eaten raw.  Unlike American Spinach, Ong Choy is a bit heartier and takes longer to cook. 

 I was able to find Ong Choy at one of the markets on Spring Mountain, as this is a commonly used ingredient in Asian cuisine.  The stems are much thicker around than American Spinach and I was surprised to see they are actually hollow!  Yet the hollowness doesn’t speed up the cooking process, the stems still need to be cut and added to the wok or pot before the leaves.  Which also need to be chopped, as they tend to get a bit stringy, kind of like the stems of artichokes.  As a matter of fact, Ong Choy has that same nutty flavor characteristic found in artichokes.  High in vitamins A and C as well as a good source of calcium makes Ong Choy a healthy choice for pasta dishes and other vegetarian entrees. 

Summer at my house equals lots of grilling.  But you can’t grill every night.  So simple one-pot meals are a great alternative.  I decided to use my purchased Ong Choy in a stir-fry.  So easy and tasty with just a few ingredients.  Feel free to add your favorite stir-fry vegetables to the recipe below

Ingredients 

2 bunches Ong Choy – rinsed and towel dried             3 cloves fresh garlic – minced

3-4 fresh red chili peppers *                                              1 tablespoon rice wine vinegar

1 tablespoon fermented bean curd                                1 tablespoon fresh ginger – grated

1 tablespoon soy sauce – low sodium                          ½ cup raw peanuts – roughly chopped

1 yellow bell pepper - seeded and chopped                  1-2 clean carrots - shaved with a peeler
1 cup sliced mushrooms - any kind                              1-2 tablespoons grapeseed oil

Cooked rice or noodles for serving

* Special Tool: Wok or large deep skillet if you do not have a Wok

Procedure

1)      Cut and remove bottom ends of stems on Ong Choy – chop remaining, usable portion of stems as well as chopping the leaves

2)      Pour grape seed oil into hot wok

3)      Add garlic and sauté just until soft – don’t let the garlic burn, it will taste bitter

4)      Add the chopped Ong Choy stems and allow to cook about 2-3 minutes

5)      Add red chili peppers, Ong Choy leaves, grated ginger, rice wine vinegar, soy sauce, bean curd and sauté another 2-3 minutes

6)      Add chopped peanuts and cook one more minute

Taste for seasoning adding salt or pepper to taste.  Though you really shouldn’t need any since the soy sauce and bean curd are a bit salty and the red chilies should provide you with enough heat. 

*Remind your guest not to eat the whole red chilies – unless they can take the heat.

Serve over cooked rice or noodles                                                    Makes 4 servings

 

Ready to add the carrots and bell pepper

Never Say Nectarine

Nectarines on the left-Peaches on the right

Never say Nectarine . . . if you really mean peaches.  It’s surprising how many people confuse the two.  Similar in shape and coloring, peaches originated in China and were introduced to Europe and later the New World, by way of Persia, hence the old moniker Persian Apple.  Nectarines also originated in China, but have since undergone lots of propagation and modifications.  Peaches have fuzzy skin while the epidermis of the Nectarine is smooth.  Both have large pits in the center are in season from about May to October, with Nectarines coming onto the fresh produce scene a bit later in spring and finishing up closer to September.  Nectarines also seem a bit more delicate and sensitive than peaches as they are prone to brown rot and diseases.  Generous amounts of vitamins A and C can be found in both these fruits.  And while there are a great variety of both peaches and nectarines they are separated into two groups known as clingstones and freestones.  These terms refer to the ease or difficulty with which the pit can be separated from the pulp or meat of the fruit inside.

In terms of culinary, I suppose you could use peaches and nectarines interchangeably.  Although it has been my experience that peaches are juicier making them my preference over nectarines in pies, cobblers, and tarts.  Although Nectarines hold up really well in salads and in sauces melding the sweet with the savory.  Think of them as a luscious alternative to applesauce over thick, braised pork chops.  And while peaches or nectarines would make for a wonderful ice cream or sorbet, it has been my experience nectarines hold up better on the grill than peaches.  So that’s what we’re going to do this week. Grilled Peaches and Panna Cotta. 

Panna Cotta is an incredibly simple (takes about 7 minutes to prepare) and lovely dessert to have as part of your recipe repertoire.  Generally a warmed assembly of milk, heavy whipping cream, a sweetener and unflavored gelatin, poured into individual ramekins, then unmolded onto a plate and topped with fresh fruit or a colis.  Northern Italians lays claim as the originators of this creamy confection.  But there don’t seem to be any references to Panna Cotta (literally translated means cooked cream) in any Italian cookbooks prior to 1960.  It’s rumored the dessert was in fact created by a Hungarian woman who happen to live in Langhe, which is in the Piedmont Region of Northern Italy. 

What I LOVE about my decision to prepare and share with you my recipe for Panna Cotta with grilled nectarines, is that peaches and/or nectarines are reported to be the original fruit colis prepared to complement this dessert! 

Here’s the basic recipe with some alternatives included for Panna Cotta

                                                                                                               Makes 6 servings

Ingredients

1 envelope unflavored gelatin                     3 tablespoons cold water

1 ¼ cups heavy whipping cream                 2 cups honey or vanilla yogurt (Greek is best)*

½ cup fine granulated sugar *                      1 teaspoon vanilla bean paste

1 teaspoon fresh grated lemon zest           pinch salt

*you can substitute buttermilk or whole milk for the yogurt *you can substitute honey for the sugar *you can substitute espresso powder or rum for the lemon zest.

For the fruit topping – three fresh, ripe nectarines, 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 2-3 tablespoons honey, grape seed or vegetable oil for the grill and the ramekins.

1)1      Measure the cold water into a large mixing bowl.  Sprinkle the entire envelope of gelatin into the water and set aside.

2)2      In a heavy, medium saucepot, whisk together the heavy whipping cream, salt and sugar, over low heat just until sugar completely dissolves – Note: if you’ve decided to use buttermilk or whole milk in place of yogurt add that ingredient to the saucepot as well (yogurt is added later).   Do not let this mixture come to boil.

3)3      Remove saucepot from the heat and whisk in vanilla paste, lemon zest (and rum or other ingredient of choice)

4)4      Pour warmed milk/cream mixture into the bowl of gelatin and stir until well mixed.  Now whisk in yogurt.

5) 5     Pour panna cotta mixture into 6 individual ramekins that have been lightly brushed with the unflavored oil.  Place in refrigerator until cool and firm.

Meanwhile – cut nectarines in half and remove pits (hopefully you purchased the freestone variety). Lightly brush grill with oil and grill both sides of nectarines for about 2-3 minutes per side.  You should have nice marks showing before you remove the fruit from the grill.  Immediately after removing the fruit from the grill, slice the nectarines into thin slices.  Place nectarine slices into a large mixing bowl also lightly greased with the unflavored oil, then drizzle with honey and sprinkle with cinnamon.  Cover loosely until ready to use.

For plating up, slide a thin knife along the inside edges of each ramekin and invert the panna cotta onto a small dessert plate or shallow bowl.   Spoon the sliced, honeyed nectarines over each serving of panna cotta.  YUM!!!

For an even simpler preparation you can pour a generous spoonful of marmalade or a commercially prepared raspberry-chipotle sauce over each serving of panna cotta!  Sweet marmalade with its tart citrus taste is great over this and the raspberry-chipotle with its sweet/smoky heat over the cool panna cotta . . . oh!  Easy-Sneezy.