CrankyCakes

I spend so much time loving the food of Vermont that I sometimes forget to pass on other good things that cross my path.  Please let me rectify that in a round-up of recent goodies from here and there.

Boloco
We got to take part in the “Pairing is Sharing” event that Burlington’s Magic Hat beer and the Boston-based Boloco burrito chain offered to introduce a new burrito and benefit the on-line mentoring program icouldbe.org.  I especially loved the Buffalo Burrito, and liked Magic Hat’s fall Odd Notion, a spicy, orange-y Belgian ale.   The Leftover Queen got much better pictures than mine, if you want to take a peek.

with The Leftover Queen & CrankyGreg

pmg's Nicole & her lovely friend

Palm Plates
As a member of the Foodie Blogroll Community, we got our hands on some Palm Plates put out by Marx Foods.  I’m pretty averse to disposable things, but liked the sound of these made-from-palm-leaf dishes.  Less manufacture, less waste, and kind of crunchy-cute looking.  We put them to the test for a variety of uses.

Breakfast:

And dinner:

We washed them & dried them and took them camping:

As a costume:

We’ve now used them so far beyond their one-use intentioned purpose that it seems ridiculous to mention that there are a few cracks in them.  When I finally am forced to call them done, I’ll throw them in the compost pile and declare victory.  I’m glad there are products like these out there to choose from when disposable stuff is necessary.  Which it usually isn’t.

What’s Cooking

I started following this cooking-natural-foods-with-kids blog on Facebook, and ended up winning a cute little prize that deserves mention on its own, beyond the great content Michelle and her family are producing.  She sent a “matchbook garden” my way.  Adorable, and totally appealed to my love of the faux and the miniature.

I’m just waiting to find a friend who’s quitting smoking and I’m totally going to give this to them, since I don’t feel up to explaining the shades of difference between playing with pretend matches and playing with actual flammable substances to E. & Z.

Penzey’s

If you’ve ever asked me where you should get your spices, chances are good that I’ve directed you here.  I love this folksy company for their earnest love of food nearly as much as I appreciate the variety and quality of their herbs and spices.  That’s why I was really worried when the fall catalog came with the words “Arizona Dreaming” emblazoned across the front.  I just didn’t want to know if these folks supported the anti-immigrant stuff that’s going on in Arizona.  With great trepidation I opened the catalog and read this letter from Bill Penzey.

(image courtesy penzeys.com)

I nearly cried.  It’s all that’s good about food, and the ties it creates and the cultures it celebrates.  I ordered some of the spice mix, though I surely didn’t need another chili powder blend.  But we love it, and I love Penzey’s even more. When it’s time to restock your spice shelf, give these good folks a try.

And now, back to our usual Vermont goodness and cranky ways.

It was just one of those quirky and fun Vermont food days.   As Greg was getting some work ready for the Art Hop, I was scurrying around getting ready for an alfresco potluck dinner party tomorrow.

I had a fabulous score over at Resource: various used candle holders that would stand up to the wind, a few small rustic things for holding flowers, some canning jars, and this:

Then it was over to City Market for olives and wine for our dinner’s Mediterranean theme.  Right there behind the cheese counter where the olives hang out was Dave, cheesemonger extraordinaire.  And with Dave was a very nice looking person with a cooler who was giving Dave samples to try.

“Hi Dave.  Whatcha trying there?” I subtly asked.  I got to have a sample of Dancing Cow Lindy Hop (rich, sweet, and musty in a very pleasant way; Dave said it’s like a good authentic Stilton) and Plymouth Original (mild and fresh), both of which are fabulous Vermont cheeses that made me want to have an entire lifetime to devote to pondering terroir and the mouthfeel of the milks of different animals.

Then it was time to go collect our monthly delivery of our Applecheek Farm meat CSA share.  When I pulled into the parking lot at Bluebird Tavern, who’s nice enough to serve as the rendezvous spot, I found this little friend on a thistle pulling out seeds just like a goldfinch should.

And though I was forced to cancel dinner with friends tonight in order to attend an emergency meeting (more on that soon), this all left me in a pretty good mood.

So how about a give-away? Leave a comment here about what summer foods are making you happy by, say, September 1, and to enhance your vegetable slicing pleasure I will draw a name at random and send a Very Lucky Reader their very own vintage Feemster’s Famous Vegetable Slicer, as long as you promise to be much more careful with it than the picture on the box suggests.  Seriously: you must promise this.

Is it just me?

Wouldn’t you expect that your children and their two friends could stay at the petting zoo and playground for two minutes while you ran to get them a bottle of water since the poor little darlings were thirsty?

And if they had to run wild in the minutes you were gone, surely you’d think they could continue on with the petting zoo animals, or climbing the wooden tractor, or running across the wide, safe, open field.  What child of reading age would cross an acre, pass the “CLOSED” signs, and enter the corn maze?

This place, by the way, is a big old actual maze with paths that swirl around in traditionally confusing and re-doubling ways.  It wasn’t terrifying at 3:00 p.m., but I sure as heck wouldn’t want to be there after sundown.   I’ve seen the horror movies and I know what goes on.

Still, you and your younger child yourselves entered the forbidden rows, yelling for the trespassers and were at last reunited, after telling the offending three children that they were in TROUBLE and had ONE MINUTE to find their way to where you were (because if you tell people to do something impossible while YELLING, the laws of physics will change to accommodate your wishes), and then the farmer showed up to yell at them too.

So there we were with glaring adults and big-eyed children.  I was waiting for the finger-pointing and the meltdown and I was ready to dish out some Very Serious Consequences.  But that was when E. said, “Listen.  It’s my fault.  I went in and they came in to get me out.  I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed.”  The farmer looked at me and I think realized they were in much more trouble on the homefront than they were with the farm.  He asked, “So now you know you did something wrong?  And if I had a cable across that row you wouldn’t have gone in?  We want to make sure you’re safe, you know.”

I don’t know what you would have done but for me it was to give the children a hug.  And then we shared our first cider donuts of the season sitting around a picnic table talking about how to decide what’s allowed and what’s safe, about how smart it was to stay together and keep each other okay.

In the end it was one of those golden moments when our children show us the beautiful people they’re becoming, even if there’s plenty of crazy along the way.

And then we went home to make a dinner of our first 2010 local apples, some good Cabot cheddar, and a pile of crackers, since I had no energy left for cooking.  On the way, E. said, “Mommy, you know it’s not really my fault.  They should have signs showing how to get out of that place!  Can you believe there was only one picture of the whole thing?!”

Indeed.

And now that we’ve recovered I want to share with you this pure summer harvest celebration of a recipe that we enjoyed last week after a much less adventurous visit to our CSA farm.  It was Z.’s idea to mix, “corn … and cheese … and broccoli and water … and I’ll stir it all up!”  I’m sure he was thinking something more mudpie-ish, but to me it sounded like chowder, and that’s what we made.

Cheesy Corn Potato Chowder
About 6 servings

1.  Remove the kernels from:

• 3 ears fresh corn

and set aside.

2.  Heat until rippling in a large sauce pan:

• 2 T. butter or olive oil

3.  Adjust heat to medium-low, and add:

• 2 cups diced potatoes, with peels unless you really hate them
• 1/2 cup sliced carrots
• 1/2 cup chopped onion

Cook for about 10 minutes, stirring frequently, until carrots are softened, and onions are starting to brown gently.

4.  Stir in and mix very well:

• 1/2 t. salt
• freshly ground pepper
• 1/4 cup flour (substitute your usual thickener if you’re going for gluten-free)

Then pour in, 1/2 cup at a time, and bring to a simmer while stirring.

• 2 cups milk
• 1 cup water

5.  Stir in and cook at a low simmer just until broccoli turns bright green, about 3 minutes:

• 2 c. shredded cheddar cheese (I use Cabot 50% reduced fat cheddar)
• 1 cup finely chopped broccoli (or substitute spinach or chopped chard)
• the reserved corn

Heat through, and serve.

The Vermont plums are in, and they are damned good.   So good that I find myself leaving the farmer’s market each week of their short season with far more than I really need or have plans for.  Which was what was happening a couple of weeks ago when I ran into a friend who told me about her old neighbor who made dumplings with the plums that grew in her yard.

Of course the word, “dumplings” piqued my interest.  So with quarts of plums at the ready, I went home to find a recipe.  Here’s what I found, and have so far made two batches – one to freeze for winter, and one we ate fresh with grilled sausage and a great deal of delight.

Plum Dumplings
Adapted from AllRecipes.com
The original recipe’s yield says 25, but 20 seems to be closer to the truth

1.  Peel, quarter, boil until tender and then mash:

• 2 large or 4 small potatoes

2.  While the potatoes are cooking, prepare the plums.  Slice in half:

• 25 prune plums (Who knows?  Maybe you’ll get 25 out of the recipe and will actually need each one.  If not, you’ve got sugary sweet plums as a snack, so it’s a low-risk situation.)

Remove each pit, and sprinkle a bit of sugar into the spot where it was.  Place plums in a bowl while you prepare the dough.

3.  Make the dough by sifting together:

• 1 1/2 cups unbleached white flour
• 1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
• 1/2 t. powdered lemon peel
• pinch ground ginger
• 1 teaspoon sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

Make a well in the center and add:

• 3 egg yolks
• 2 tablespoons softened butter
• 1 cup mashed potato

Mix together with a wooden spoon until too hard to stir, and then knead until very smooth.

4.  Flour a cutting board well, and roll out half of the dough to 1/4″ thick.  Use a glass or biscuit cutter to cut out 3″ or 4″ rounds.  (Work fairly quickly so the circles don’t dry out.)  Place one round on the palm of one hand, rub the circle’s outside with a sugared plum to moisten the dough.

Stretch and seal the dough around the plum, trying your best to avoid any holes in the dough.  (If you do end up with a hole, just grab a scrap from the board and patch it.)

Repeat until all dough is used up, gathering and re-rolling as many scraps as you can.  (To freeze at this point, place in a single layer on a well-floured cookie sheet and stick in the freezer until hard, and then put in a container or bag.)

5.  Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil, and gently place dumplings in the water and boil for about 10 minutes. (Add about 4 minutes if you cook from frozen.)

6.  In a large sauce pan, melt together over medium-low heat and stir until warm and thick:

• 1/2 c. unsalted butter
• 1  c. brown sugar or your favorite jam or marmalade (we were lucky to have some peach butter bubbling away on the stove and so used that)
• 1/4 c. bread crumbs to thicken if you like.

I’d like to come up with some brilliant summation here, but I’m a bit distracted as I’m here with a 5-year old here who insists it’s my birthday (it’s not) and that I have to go off to a party with Batman, a plastic dinosaur and some wooden milk.  You, on the other hand, should get yourself some plums and eat them in any way you can think of.

My inner hoarder has come out to play and I’m in an absolute frenzy of food preservation.  So far:

• 26 jars of blueberry jam
• 8 jars of gooseberry jam
• 6 jars of gingered zucchini marmalade
• 6 jars of blackberry rhubarb chutney
• 4 pints of canned peaches
• 10 pounds of frozen blueberries
• 6 quarts of frozen blackberries
• 4 pints of frozen shredded zucchini and carrots
• 4 pints of frozen roasted tomatoes and garlic
• 3 freezer bags of various roasted vegetables
• 3 pints of frozen rhubarb
• 1 bag of Czech plum dumplings

My kitchen is now a living fruit fly museum, the house is a wreck and I’m busier than if I had an actual job.  Is this because having a basement filled with food helps assuage the upheaval of part-time contract work?  Because Z. is starting kindergarten and I’m trying to maintain an illusion of control?  Because it’s an especially delicious harvest year?  Who knows.  I keep claiming that I want to stop with all the fuss and crankyGreg keeps telling me that I won’t.  He’s probably right.

Maybe you need a recipe to help with your own neuroses, or for some more sane purpose like gift giving.  Here’s one I adapted to use up the blackberries that have been going crazy around here, as well as some late-season rhubarb and gone-to-seed cilantro.  It’s tart, sweet, and a little spicy in addition to being beautiful.

Blackberry-Rhubarb Chutney
Adapted from the Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving

Yield: 6 8-oz. jars

If this is your first foray into canning, read this and this.

1.  Prepare your canner, 7 8-oz. jars, and lids, and keep warm.

2.  In a large stainless steel saucepan, combine:

• 3 cups fresh or frozen blackberries
• 1 cup chopped rhubarb stalks
• 1 cup shredded peeled green apple
• 1 1/4 c. finely chopped onion
• 1 can of chopped pineapple in juice (or else 2 large grated peeled green apples)
• 2 T. finely chopped ginger
• 3 cloves finely chopped fresh garlic
• 1 t. orange or lemon zest
• 1/4 c. orange or lemon juice
• 1 c. red wine vinegar

Bring to a boil over medium-high heat, stirring occasionally.  Reduce heat, cover and boil gently for about 15 minutes.

3.  Add to the mix in the saucepan:

• 1 1/2 c. granulated sugar (make sure it’s cane sugar when you’re canning)
• 1 c. golden raisins (I left these out, but would have thrown them in if I had had them around)
• 1 c. water

4.  Make a spice bag with some cheesecloth or a stainless steel tea ball with:

• 1 T. coriander/cilantro seeds (fresh if you’ve got them on your bolted plants in the garden, dried if not)
• 2 hot peppers, as hot as you like.

Boil gently until thickened, about 15 minutes.

5.  Ladle hot chutney into hot jars, leaving 1/2″ headspace.  Remove air bubbles by poking a chopstick or similar implement around the sides of the jar, then adjust headspace by adding more chutney if necessary.  Use a clean damp cloth to wipe the rim, then center the lid on the jar.  Screw band down until fairly tight, but don’t over-force it.

6.  Place jars in the canner so that they’re completely underwater.  Bring to a boil and then process for 10 minutes.  Take off the lid.  Wait for 5 minutes, then remove jars, cool and store in a cool place once you’ve made sure the jars have a good seal.

There.  Don’t you feel better?

The vegan minister at our church retired recently, and we sent him off in fine Unitarian style with a big potluck picnic, music, bounce castle, and all manner of wholesome fun and well-wishing.

Though I knew most people in attendance are happy omnivores, I couldn’t bring myself to make something that the guest of honor wouldn’t eat.  And a quick review of what was in the fridge turned into this take on the summer classic, which seemed like one of those why-didn’t-I-think-of-this-before sorts of dishes once it occurred to me.   There was something especially fab about having it on the church picnic table right next to the genuine orange carrot-Jello mold, which I did indeed help myself to a big day-glo scoop of.

Vegan Insalata Caprese
Serves 8

Prepare tofu:

• 1 lb. package extra firm (not silken) tofu, pressed, then sliced fairly thickly, and marinated for 1 hour in 1 cup of water with 1/2 t. kosher salt and 2 cloves chopped garlic

While the tofu’s marinating, reduce to 1/3 cup over low simmer:

• 1 cup balsamic vinegar (don’t waste super-high quality stuff on this – run of the mill stuff will be fine)

Pat the tofu dry, then layer it in whatever shape suits you and your serving dish with:

• 4 ripe tomatoes, sliced into pieces about the size of the tofu
• 1 cup large basil leaves

Drizzle the vinegar over the top, then top with:

• 2 T. olive oil
• kosher salt & freshly ground pepper to tastev

Voila.  Now you’ve made the vegans happy.

Ah, blueberries.

My friend Robin tipped me off that she had heard that Charlotte Berry Farm was worth a try.  “$2 a pound and nearly organic,” went the rumor.  I packed up the boys and we went to check it out.

We arrived on a recent perfect summer day to just a few cars in the parking lot, a sign that said, “We’re glad you’re here,”  and a purple and rainbow boat that sure looked like it was there for kids to play in.

Things were looking pretty good.

Then we went inside, where I confirmed Robin’s information: pick-your-own blueberries cost $2/pound, and they’re grown using Integrated Pest Management practices.  The boys’ eyes got huge when they saw the corner of the farm building that was set up with books and toys, including an enormous box of Legos.  They settled in there, which the lovely person staffing the counter said was okay, and I got a flat and went out into the field.

The berries were so abundant that it took just about an hour to pick 10 pounds (all Bluejays).  And it was a pleasure doing so among the tall bushes that screened the sun from beating down on me.  While I was there, a big group from a local camp wandered through; shouting, “Jackpot!” when they found a big branch of berries.  E. & Z. wandered out to find me, and then went back to play.  I followed them a little while later, and treated them to a creemee.  What you need to know about this treat is that the farm juices the berries that are in season and flavors their ice cream with it, which is how I got this:

And then we went home, where I made a big old batch of jam, froze two batches of pre-measured-for-pie fruit, and ate berries all afternoon.  And given the reaction everyone around here is having to the jam, I think we’re going back next week to do it all again.

Colorful, easy and refreshing, this is a nice use for all the stuff starting to show up or wind up here in the gardens and CSA shares.

Making it also marked the last use of my favorite bowl, which has finally cracked through to such a degree that liquids seep out.  It’s now on the porch with some straggly hot pepper plants limping over its side.

Sweet Summer Salad
4 servings

• 4 ears of corn, boiled for 30 seconds (yes, only 30), and kernels cut from the cobs
• 1 qt. edible pod peas (snow or sugar snaps), strings removed, blanched for 30 seconds

• 3 cups watermelon, either cubes or balls
• 1 T. lemon or lime juice
• 1 t. fish sauce or umeboshi vinegar
• 1 dash vinegar based hot sauce

Mix it all together and serve cold or at room temperature.

There are no pictures or descriptions of animals actually being killed in this post.  But I’ll tell you the rest of what happened when we brought the chickens from Paula’s Williston farm to the slaughterhouse in Morrisville.

The boys and I got an early morning start, but arrived at Paula’s a little late, and the round-up was underway.  Paula’s daughter and her friend were shooing the chickens towards the adults, who were putting them 2 or 3 to a box and the boxes in the cars.

I was not good at herding chickens, but did show a quick aptitude for finding stinging nettles while trying to coax the birds in the right direction.  The boys were hanging out with Ventura the turkey (his day had not yet come), and the beautiful egg-laying birds, but kind of got into the spirit of laughing and getting these flappy big monsters into boxes.   The birds were 8 or 10 weeks old (the two batches were in their pasture together), and enormous, looking too heavy for their legs and kind of thumping from side to side as they ran.   As I was tucking them into their boxes all I could picture was me on the interstate with huge angry roosters flapping around my head, boys crying and trying to escape.

At last we were packed and off we went.  The birds occasionally made some inquisitive noises.  Z. said, “Don’t worry – nothing bad is going to happen little birdie,” to which E. replied, “They’re on their way to BE KILLED!  Something VERY bad is going to happen!”  His brother shushed him and told him not to say that because it would scare the birds and that wasn’t nice.

We arrived at Morrisville’s Winding Brook Farm, which I’d always been curious about as I see their meat on lots of local menus.   We pulled in to the small parking lot in front of their barn, and spotted the Ag. Dept.’s mobile slaughterhouse, a regulation-looking white trailer with the door open and a guy with a long rubber apron moving around inside.    The plan had been to drop off the birds, but instead we stayed to help, and before I knew it Paula was handing the birds in one at a time.

E. & Z. found a place they could bounce on a big piece of wood, and visited the guinea fowl and calves.  There was another family there, who we started talking to.  They were waiting for a goat they had purchased to be processed, and the little girl who was with them joined our group’s kids.  The girls gathered around Paula and petted and kissed each chicken as it was handed over.

While we were there, all sorts of people were coming and going.  Men in button-down shirts stopped in to talk for a minute; I assumed they were managers or buyers for local restaurant accounts.  Then another family came in, three men and a young-ish girl, speaking an Eastern European language.  One of the men pulled out a whetstone and long knife and started sharpening it.  I asked if they did their own butchering, maybe for halal meat, which they said that they did.  The knife-sharpener said they were there for a lamb, and asked if I could help by holding its legs since his friends refused to.   (I pondered whether I could, decided I probably would so as not to be a hypocrite of a meat-eater, but we left before it was an option.)

After the last bird had been handed in, we followed the kids around on a tour of the farm, cooing at goats and piglets and peacocks and all sorts of farm critters.

We left for a few hours, visiting some of my favorite Lamoille County food spots – Bee’s Knees, Applecheek Farm, and Elmore Roots Nursery (which was closed, but I spotted several things of interest, including native ginger).

Then it was back to the farm to pick up our processed birds.  The butchers gave Paula a big vacuum pack of necks, one of hearts, and then started handing us the vacu-packed chickens.  It cost $172 for butchering 35 birds, including extra ice to chill them to a safe temperature.  (They told us that the price goes up when the weather’s hot.)

And now here are 10 of them in the freezer.  I’ll let you know what I end up doing with them.

I’ve been meaning to take a minute to write about the chickens.

It’s just that I don’t exactly know what to say.

In the winter, my amazing friend Paula wondered if we might want to invest in a small flock of meat-birds she was preparing to raise on her family’s farm.  The plan was that we’d come out and help with some of the care and feeding, and then eventually help with the slaughter.   We wanted in.  Of course I was nervous about the slaughter part.

So then spring came and her little peeps arrived.  She moved them out to her barn, and Z. & I went out to visit.  We met the meat-birds, who Paula got me in the habit of calling “lummoxes” as they’re bred for quick growth, big size, and not especially for smarts.  (You chicken-knowers may detect some ornamentals in the bunch.  Don’t worry – they’re being raised to show at the fair this year, not for meat.)

We helped fill their water and mix in the oyster shell with grain, helped shoo the layers where they were supposed to go.

And then I went out one more time and did some more of the same; of course Paula’s been going out every day.  And now all of a sudden tomorrow is chicken slaughter day.  We’re not doing it ourselves, but are instead packing up the birds and caravaning to Morrisville where there’s a butcher who will slaughter, dress and pack the birds for us.  We go back a few hours later and pick them up, all ready to go into the freezer.

I’ve talked to the boys extensively about this venture, about how animals should be treated well even if they’re going to be eaten.  How we as a family try to make sure that the animals we eat had good lives and were treated well, and that getting to know our food is part of that.

I would have thought that Z., who is younger and so very sweet, would have been especially traumatized.  But it’s his brother who’s taking it hard, refusing to go along for the trip.  And who has announced that he won’t even look at the birds if he has to be in the car with them.  I think Z. is okay because he knows we’ll be going to Applecheek Farm and Bee’s Knees and he probably suspects there will be juice boxes and treats involved.  He’s definitely right.

I’m looking at that picture of the bird in the grass, thinking about how right now as I’m listening to the crickets chirp it’s having its last night as a living being.  If I’m going to keep eating animals, I have to be okay with that.  Am I?  It’s hard to say for sure.  I’d like to be able to smugly congratulate myself, knowing that my freezer’s about to be filled with animals who lived a good and dignified life, and weren’t treated horribly and then stuck in a warehouse freezer.  I know this is better.  And I know that this ambiguity is appropriate.

And now I just hope we get through tomorrow.