the table awaits

Saturday morning, we piled the turnips high in the elementary school. They nearly reached the basket ball hoop.

The place was a madhouse. I love the crazy Berkshire Grown holiday markets. I love working them, mostly so I can hang out with so many people who are thinking about cooking for the holidays.

That's a particular breed of loony, that one.

I'm tempted to bring a bottle of wine with me, so I can hand out little glasses while people tell me about how nervous they are to meet their brother's new girlfriend, and about how she's a vegan and have I ever stuffed a squash for thankgiving? I want Joey to make me a T-shirt that says, "Oh honey, it's all going to be okay."

But there's no time for that. I'm shoving change in people's hands, and telling them how to caramelize white turnips (sliced thin, tossed with salt and pepper and olive oil, 425 degree oven for 15 to 20 minutes), and I'm trying to convince people that broccoli greens are a fitting replacement for spinach on the Thanksgiving table. We sold so many turnips. Endless turnips.

There was serious panic about brussels sprouts. There were not enough in that little gymnasium, and anyone with a stalk poking out of their reusable bag carried it smugly like a trophy. More realistically, we should have probably been wearing shirts that said, "WE'RE SORRY. WE HAVE NO BRUSSELS SPROUTS." Then, perhaps Elizabeth would not have lost her voice.

Oh, honey. It's going to be okay.

A few things to remember:

If you are traveling, bring snacks, lots of snacks. Give your kids their own snack supply.
If you are a drinker, drink while you cook. Do not wait until the meal begins to have your first glass of wine. If you are a "no drinks before 6" kind of cook, break that rule.
And while you're at it, put booze in your cranberry sauce. Put booze in your brussels sprouts. Why not.
Don't forget the fucking gourds on the table. Even if you've read this one before, it merits a yearly rereading.
Oh, no you don't. Just don't!
Don't mess with it too much. Just leave it alone.

Today, I'm packing up for our very first ever family Thanksgiving travel experience. Oh yes, Denver- I'm talking to you.

And if you are one of the millions making there way through the Chicago airport tomorrow night, I'll be the one with the husband looking for the Chicago Dog (even if it's in another terminal) while I keep the girls from trying to ride on each other's rolly bags.

Yes! Here we go!

(You guys are so great, you know that? I'm not sure I tell you enough. All this grateful talk is making me feel, well, particularly grateful. I hope you all are having a good week out there, and... thank you.)

at the market: radishes

 Radish-es! (I'm singing here, a little off key)
I can not stop singing your praises. You are, in essence, love with a root and a leaf. Round or cylindrical, sensual in your crunch and shocking bite, I will love you forever.

 These, in no particular order, are some of my favorite things about radishes.

1. Radishes get spicier as the season moves in. It is the heat and sun that gives heat to your radishes. So in April? Mild. In June? Wowsa.

2. Yes, you can eat the greens! Saute with garlic!

3. Radish butter.

4. I love that there is a radish called the French Breakfast Radish.  I believe that this name has inspired many people, including myself, to eat radishes for breakfast.



5. This is a very exciting way to use salt.

6. Radishes are wonderful to grow. Sow your seeds, don't even thin them out, and the radishes will be up before you can blink. When they start to show themselves poking out of the ground, take your pick.

7. Roasted radishes. Yes, Nigel Slater does say that we should "ignore any suggestion of cooking them," and he claims that "the writer is surely deluded." But still, roasted radishes.

8. Radish dip. On a bagel.

9. And then of course, there is the fanciness of the radish. Blame it in the French for elevating this anything but ordinary mustard. 

Radish-es!

at the market: the spinach recipe

"And what should I do with spinach?"

That was the question that I heard most at the market last weekend. Makes sense, considering that we had enough spinach on the table to feed a small country. Spinach lovers out there know that the possibilities are endless, but of course to answer that question, I start small, feel it out, try to assess which possibilities will make this one hungry person sing with spinach-induced joy, and if I can't get a read on them, I start out safe.

"saute it?"

On and off today I've been checking in with a workshop that Penny De Los Santos is teaching through creativeLIVE. She is an amazing photographer who works mostly for Saveur these days, but she is also one of those people whose passion is so infectious--to hear her talk just makes me want to take risks. She's teaching a three day workshop, and she invited people to make videos on why they would like to take her course (see my friend Nikki's lovely video here), and she chose 6 people to join her in a room in Seattle, but the rest of the world gets to participate too. Watch some if you can- any length of time with her is a gift.  My favorite thing she said today?

"Self-assign your dream assignment."

Yes!

And that brings me back to the farmers market.  Years ago now, the chance to work for Indian Line Farm at the market got me thinking about food in new ways, and it got me here, too. And I will never get sick of talking with people about how to cook spinach, at least I hope not. And whereas the basic sauteing if spinach with olive oil and garlic might be a standard for some, it is a new recipe for others. It is one of the things I love best about that place- do people ever ask how to cook a vegetable at the supermarket? I don't think so- they reach for what they know.  So I'm bringing the market back in here. It's all far too connected to keep the two worlds separate.

This week, let's saute some spinach.

 

Slice a clove or two of garlic, so that it is in whole little chips. Heat a few tablespoons of olive oil in a big saute pan.  Add the garlic, and cook until the tiniest bit of browning happens. Add a few handfuls of unchopped spinach (leave the stems on if its nice and fresh and not too big), adding more as it wilts and you can fit more in the pan.  Toss as you go- it will wilt quickly, then shuffle it around and add more to the pan. When all of the spinach is in the pan, add 1/4 cup milk. (This prevents the spinach from doing that strange thing where it makes you mouth feel numb.) Cover for about 10 seconds, then toss again and season with salt and pepper. The spinach will be just wilted- stop before it starts to brown. 

And for those who want to find new tricks for familiar vegetables, a few spinach inspirations around the web:

Winnie's baby spinach and violet salad with blue cheese

Joy's kale, spinach and pear smoothie

Heidi's spiced coconut spinach recipe

Jenna's spinach feta turkey burgers