my potatoes

I am an entirely incompetent gardener.
I think I'll get better, someday. Until then, I sort of like being bad at it. It makes me feel like life is long and there is so much room for improvement. With all the food I produce as a bad gardener, I can't even imagine what a superhero I'll be in thirty years.
I'm surrounded by people who know exactly what their doing--I mean they really know. My friends Al and Elizabeth who run Indian Line Farm, one the the first CSA's in the country. My friends Jen and Pete of Woven Roots Farm which is beginning to produce vegetables four seasons a year. There's Naomi who's garden is one of those wonderlands you just want to move in to. I've got it on all sides, and everyone is happy to share their knowledge, their seeds, their bionic vegetable starts. I've got no excuse for being such a bad gardener.

So what's my problem?

Well, no matter how many lovely notebooks I have, no matter how determined I am to change my ways, my garden is, well, I'll say--painted with rough and sweeping brushstrokes. In February, I think through the whole season, I make drawings of all my possible successive plantings, but the reality is, once I have something in my hand, I just can't help but put it in the ground, no matter what my plan is. Last year, Jen brought me a few trays of cabbage starts that she had left over, figuring I would plant what I wanted and compost the rest. But I just couldn't compost those beautiful little plants. And that's how I ended up with forty cabbages.

This year, it was potatoes.
It didn't seem like I ordered that many seed potatoes from Fedco. It was my first year growing potatoes, and I wanted a little variety. It all seemed perfectly reasonable.

Do you know how potatoes grow? They grow from other potatoes, potatoes that have been cut up so that each piece has an eye from which a new potato plant might sprout. And so I cut each potato that came out of my Fedco box into a few pieces, I left them in a sunny window to get started with the sprouting process, and then I went to plant those little potato chunks in my garden.

They filled up almost the whole thing.

There was a little space for carrots, a small bed for onions and a corner for one cherry tomato plant. The rest? Potatoes.

I could have stopped- composted some of those seed potatoes, given them to a friend, anything! But no, the bad gardener in me had to plant every single one of those little potato sections.

Now if you've ever grown potatoes, then you know just what happened next. But I can tell you that I was fascinated and shocked by the activity of those little potato sprouts. What happened next? They grew into a jungle. A jungle of strange and dangerous looking tomato-y type plants. I was told to mound around them as they grew, and so every week, I mounded. I mounded until I was bringing in dirt from other parts of the yard, and until there were deep troughs between the plants. My neighbor said, mound! mound more! Your potatoes will be green and then they will be poisonous! I mounded more.

Then, there was fruit on the plants. Hundreds of little hard green tomato like fruit. I gave a visiting friend a tour of the potato jungle. "What is that?" I asked. "Can I eat it?"

"Only if you want to die a horrible death."

I mounded more. I stayed far away from the scary green fruit.

One day, I stuck my hand into the ground, and I pulled out a potato. It was barely connected to anything- it was just there in the ground. For each spindly plant there was a gaggle of potatoes scattered in the earth below, whole, perfect potatoes. I showed that first one to Joey and he gave it a look I hadn't seen since Rosie was born. "Our...potato?"

From that day on, he dug potatoes almost every day, just to dig them. I pleaded with him to let them mature, to wait until it was time to harvest, but in the end, he was a little boy in a candy shop. I couldn't deny him the pleasure. Whenever we had a guest, Joey would pull them by the hand, and they would dig together. He got glowy even when he just talked about digging potatoes.

When the plants died and it was time to harvest, I think we had already eaten half the potatoes. I was secretly relieved, because I really didn't know how we would store all those hundreds of potatoes. I had asked everyone I knew, and I had gotten all sorts of answers.

"Dig a hole in the ground. Shovel a path out to the hole in the winter." (nope)
"Fill buckets with sand. Keep the buckets in your basement. Make sure the temperature doesn't go above 50 degrees." (nope. basement's too warm)
"Dig a root cellar! Don't you want one anyway?" (Absolutely! Would you like to come and build it for me?)

And so, in the closet under the stairs, there is a Ball Jar box. In the box, you will find our potatoes.

They are only slightly forgotten. We tuck into the closet and caress their lovely skin, and here and there, we eat them. They are fantastic and delicious potatoes. But I must say, after this season of our great potato invasion, they are still mysterious. The forbidden fruit, the randomly placed earthbound potato--this is no summer lettuce mix.

Next year, the potatoes will come again. But I'll plant one bed, and then I'll share the rest of my seed potatoes with you.


Even as the cool wind blows in, we are still celebrating the summer. And yes, it's potato week! Our potatoes have found themselves in so many clothes this summer. There have been a regular batch of Greek Island Potatoes, of course, and then there was that hash. As the leeks have come in, they've been kissing the potatoes in potato leek soup, and there has been a potato salad or two. I've been dreaming about potatoes with horseradish and cream, and the season's coming around to beef stew time again. I think that potato box will be empty, soon enough.

And you? What are your potatoes wearing this week? Just to get your inspiration going, let's see what the crew is cooking...

Alison at Food2: Boil 'Em, Mash 'Em, Stick 'Em in a Stew

Kirsten at FN Dish: Twice-Baked Potatoes

Sara at Cooking Channel: Duck Fat Roasted Potatoes

Healthy Eats: A Day of Potatoes: Spuds for Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner

Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Baked potatoes and vintage "junior" cookbooks

Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Hatch Chile Potato Salad

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Taquitos de Papa, made with leftover mashed potatoes

Caroline at the Wright Recipes: Indian Spiced Potatoes with Chickpeas (Aloo Chole)

Paige at The Sister Project: French Fries to soothe a burnt-out cook's soul

Margaret at A Way to Garden: Potato Growing, Curing and Storage Tips

pickled garlic

It's garlic week.
I'm in recovery from the weekend, and I almost didn't make a thing today. (Yes, the wedding went well. It rained on us while we ate dinner, but the wine was good enough that that was okay. Thanks for asking.) I almost gave you a little rundown of other garlic recipes that I've made- you know, roasted leg of lamb with garlic sauce or roasted garlic, onion and potato galette, or of course the king of kings garlic lemonade, or I guess when you come to think of it, just about everything I make around here that isn't dessert.

But then I couldn't resist shoving all the other things I had to do aside so that I could make something for you here. Because the truth is, I've really been wanting to tell you about this book.

Yes, I have pastoral British envy. I want elderflower rhubarb fool after the heritage roast that I cut myself and roasted on a spit in my very old hearth. I want stone walls and children with accents even though they wouldn't really be accents because that's how they talk. Sometimes, I just want to live in the River Cottage Books.

This is a new one- little and unassuming, written by Pam Corbin, containing nearly zero paranoia about canning safety. Put it in a jar. Put it on the shelf. As long as you are noble of heart, it will be good.


And so, because it is garlic week after all, and because I have this big bowl of uncleaned garlic that I hastily dug up and shoved in the closet, I thought I might spend a few moments in my new favorite cookbook and jar up a bit of garlic.

I don't know how it will taste, but I'm thinking...good.
Let's get to it then, shall we?

Pickled Garlic
adapted from Pam Corbin, The River Cottage Preserves Handbook

makes five 4-ounce jars

1 pound newer garlic (do it now, not in January)
about 15 peppercorns
5 bay leaves
1 1/2 cups apple cider vinegar
1/3 cup sugar
pinch of saffron threads

Bring a large pot of water to boil. Sterilize your jars for about 10 minutes in the pot, then remove them. Submerge all of the garlic in the hot water, and keep it in for about 20 seconds. Remove, and the garlic will slide right out of its skins.
Put the vinegar, sugar and saffron into a pan. Bring the mixture to a boil.
In a separate little pot, bring a few cups of water to boil. Remove from heat and submerge the lids and bands of your jars. Leave them in the hot water.
Meanwhile, pack the garlic cloves into the sterilized jars, adding a bay leaf and peppercorns as you go. Pour the hot vinegar over the garlic, and top with the lid and band. If the vinegar is hot enough, the jar should seal (the center of the lid will suck down) within a couple of hours. If it doesn't seal, you can also process in a hot water bath for ten minutes, or store in the refrigerator.
Use within a year.

Although that telling breeze is starting to make its way into the window at night, we're still celebrating the summer around here! Oh, luscious garlic, what will all of these talented people do with you? I can hardly wait....

odd and Diane at White on Rice Couple: Garlic Knots

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Spicy Pickled Garlic

Sara at Food2: Easiest Recipes Ever, Starring Garlic

Michelle on Cooking Channel: Roasted Garlic

Liz at Healthy Eats: 5 Reasons to Eat More Garlic

Kirsten at FN Dish: Garlic Chicken Greats

Margaret at A Way to Garden: Growing and Storing a Year of Garlic

Caroline at the Wright Recipes: Ajo Blanco Soup, and Confit Garlic

The Gilded Fork: Garlic Dossier and Recipes

Food Network UK: Glorious Garlic

Paige at The Sister Project: Spaghetti with Garlic and Zucchini

Cate at Sweetnicks: Double Dose of Garlic—Cuban Black Beans and The Best Pork Ever

Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Italian Marinated Eggplant and Sorrel and Garlic Sauce

hot sauce

Okay, I get it. I will never cut a hot pepper without a glove on. I promise.
It's taken me a while to get to this point. I've deep fried chiles and I've turned them into salsa. I've caressed them, slipped them out of their skins, and carefully removed every seed. I like to get intimate with my hot peppers.


But today we took our relationship to a whole new level. Random, single and lonely hot peppers scattered throughout the refrigerator. Dainty cherry bells, withered jalepenos just past their peak, royal crimson lees, exotic Hungarian hot wax. They all roasted under that broiler together, and the smell of their popping skins was almost, you know, like that place I love this time of year. My eyes stung, my throat constricted around invisible spice, and I kept the girls out of the kitchen.

Then they sweat together in their covered bowl, and after a few minutes they were ready to shed their skins. I wanted to be close to them without the barrier of the glove, and I worked on pepper after pepper with naked hands.

I knew it was a mistake right away, but it was too late to remedy it. You know it's bad when the burn starts right away. I like a little danger in the kitchen, but I knew I was in over my head.

And then they were in the Cuisinart. The sting filled the air and I thought the smoke alarm might go off--if only it had a chili sensor. A little sweet, a little tang, and there it was.

Hot sauce. Really truly.

Midway through the day, I showed Joey my hands.
"Can you burn the skin off your hands with chili oil?" I asked him.
"Oh, man- you haven't been at the hot peppers again? When will you learn?"
No sympathy from him.

My hands are on fire. More than I can ever remember. I keep checking to see if they really are on fire. I'm not touching the girls. I'm not touching my face. I've tried all the tricks--this fire's burning until it goes out. I lived dangerously, and I'll pay for wanting to touch those chilis.

I ate that hot sauce on my dinner and... it was pretty worth it. But next time, I'm wearing gloves.

Hot Sauce

1 pound mixed hot peppers
1 cup distilled white vinegar
1 tablespoon salt
1 tablespoon lime juice
2 tablespoons honey

Preheat your broiler, and line a baking sheet with aluminum foil or parchment. Lay the peppers out on the sheet, and puncture each one with a fork. Place the tray under the broiler until the peppers are black and bubbling. This will take between five and ten minutes, depending on the heat of your broiler. Flip the peppers over, and broil until the other side is black and bubbly as well. Remove from the oven, and put all of the peppers into a heat proof bowl. Cover with plastic wrap. Let sit for fifteen minutes, and then the peppers will be ready to come right out of their skins. Put on your gloves now. Slide each pepper out of its skin, remove the stem, and remove as much seed as you can. Put the skinned peppers into a food processor or blender along with the vinegar, salt, lime juice and honey. Blend until smooth, about one minute. Store in the fridge, for (I'm guessing here but stay tuned) up to a month.

And of course it's sweet and spicy week at summer fest! Here's the peppered line up so far...

• Alison at Food2:
  Making Hot Pepper-Infused Tequila


• Michelle at Cooking Channel: A Peck of Perfect Pepper Recipes


• Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Pickled Serrano Peppers


• Kirsten at the FN Dish: Chiles Rellenos and More Stuffed Peppers


• Liz at Healthy Eats: 10 Ways To Eat Sweet Peppers


• Margaret at A Way to Garden: Oven-roasted peppers, and freezing how-to


• Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Homemade Harissa & Sweet and Spicy Peperonata


• The Gilded Fork: Dossier and recipes on peppers spicy and sweet


• Paige at The Sister Project: Grilled Tomatillo Salsa with Jalapenos


• Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Consuelo's Hot Chile Sauce and Hatch Chiles


• Food Network UK: It's Chili Weather


• Cate at Sweetnicks: Summer Panzanella

roasted green salsa

Well, it must be the end of August. I'm in over my head.
Downstairs, I've got 45 pounds of tomatoes to can, I've got three heads of cabbage waiting to be sauerkrauted, and I've got far too much basil to avoid making a massive batch of pesto.
Oh, August. I love that you can feed me all year I can only keep up. If only!

But I'm taking a break from all that for a few minutes. Let's not talk about it.
Let's talk about New Mexico.

Have you been to New Mexico? And more importantly, have you been to New Mexico in August?
It's been a few years since I was there last, and I'm sure I'm glorifying all over the place. But there is one thing that I know is grander in reality than it could ever be in my memory. If you've been there, and if you've been there in August, you know exactly what I'm going to say. Your nose is twitching, right?
There's a little bit of the first burning pinon, but that's not the dominant note- that smell? That smell is roasting green chiles.
I have no green chiles- I took green grass instead. But right now I want those chiles. So I roast everything I can, grabbing moments of that smell. I have no green chiles, but I have green tomatoes. Green zebra tomatoes, that is. And of course, I have tomatillos. And although they're not THE chiles, I do have some chiles.

And I'm here in New England, but I want spice. I'm one part Jew and one part Brit, but in August- my heart belongs to New Mexico.

So this week for our Summer Fest party, in this very last week of August, let's you and I take a break and sit for a few minutes. I know there's plenty to do, but there's time. There's time. Let's have a beer, and a chip or two, and let's see how spicy we can get it.

Roasted Green Salsa

3/4 pound tomatillos, quartered
3/4 pound green zebra (or really any) tomatoes, cored and quartered
1 red onion, cut into chunks
1 head garlic, cloves, separated and peeled
1 (or 2, if you're really going for it) jalepeno pepper, seeded and sliced
juice of 1 lime
salt

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment, and spread the tomatillos, tomatoes, onion, garlic, and pepper on to it. Give the whole mess a drizzle of olive oil and a sprinkle of salt. Roast for 30 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool to room temperature. Empty the contents of the tray into a food processor, add the lime juice, and whir until thoroughly combined. Add salt to taste.

And what kind of summer fest would it be with out the grand fete in honor of the tomato? None at all!
There's some pretty exciting whirring and baking and juicing going on this week. Here's a start:

Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef:
Heirloom Tomato Tart with Parmesan Crust

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: What to do with slow-roasted tomatoes

Alison at Food2: Heirloom tomatoes

The FN Dish: Tyler's Ultimate Tomato Salads

Margaret at A Way to Garden: More than one way to ripen a tomato

Gilded Fork: Celebrating summer lusciousness with a tomato dossier and recipes

Diane and Todd at White on Rice Couple: Sun-dried tomatoes (actually made in the sun!)

Paige at The Sister Project: 3 substantial, healthy, vegetarian tomatoey main dishes

Liz at the Cooking Channel: Easy Tomato Tart

Kelly at Just a Taste: Tomato Jam

Alexis at Food Network UK: The seven deadly tomato sins

Michelle at Healthy Eats: Top 10 Things to Do With Tomatoes


What kind of tomato magic are you conjuring in your kitchen? Share! Share!

stone fruit slump

We're all a bit silly around here this week. The end of the summer, perhaps, the changing of the air pressure--who can explain it? Or maybe it might have something to do with the ruby orbs so recently hanging on our little wee plum trees.


We planted our orchard two years ago- nine trees of various persuasions in the front yard. I loved them so completely and immediately that I started to feel like when people asked me how many children I had, I should answer "two... and nine fruit trees." I sang to those trees, caressed their leaves and watered them with the perfect trickle at the root for the perfect amount of time.

About six weeks later, blessed by a friend who was taking pity on our poor neglected marriage, we went to Montreal for the weekend- without the girls. We gave them both a quick kiss on the head and we were off, but not before I gave detailed instructions on the care and love of my nine little trees. My friend followed my requests to the letter, and I know that there was no way that she could have prevented the massacre that occurred while she and the girls slept.

When we returned from our weekend of romantic city living, the carnage was heartbreaking. Tender young tree bark peeled from the narrow trunk, graceful branches gnawed off at the joint, remaining limbs going every which way. The deer had gotten my orchard.

I knew that I should have put up a fence, but it was just so expensive. Even more, what would the neighbors say! I bombarded the ground around the trees with every strange repellent that people suggested- irish spring, human hair, pee, garlic. Nothing could keep them away, and I was afraid that my dear baby trees would never live to bear their first fruit.

Somehow, eight of nine survived the summer. They all looked pretty sad, but when I finally decided to put up a fence, I could have sworn that they perked up a bit. Indeed, my fence does not make me a favorite with my neighbors (honestly, one asked if I was keeping prisoners in there), but I say, Temporary! If the fence can protect these now-teenage trees for just a wee bit longer, the day will soon come when you can pick an apple as you walk by. I imagine endless fruit, fruit for all!

This week, there is just a bit of fruit on those adolescent trees, but every life-filled sphere makes us giddy. Last year, we got two plums, and this year there are more! The plums have the most lovely bloom on their surface, and of course Joey stole the first plum from the tree, took his paintbrush to its dusty outer, and gifted me with this image:


And so when it came time to decide what my offering for summer fest would be this week, the plum itself decided. It said, "Stew me on the stove, marry me with nectarines, and let's call it a slump!"

The slump is, of course brought to my kitchen this summer by my very favorite little book, Rustic Fruit Desserts. I have learned so much from this book! Of slumps, and grunts, and pandowdies. Of buckles, and cobblers, and fools. As I stand in the midst of my lovely little trees and I dream of the fruit to come, I know that I will be ready with this perfect book at my side.



A slump is a steamed pudding, a dessert for the day that you can bear the stove top but not the oven, a day when stewed fruit with buttermilk dumplings is just the thing.

I know! It is such a day! Onward!


Stone Fruit Slump

adapted from Rustic Fruit Desserts, Corey Schrieber and Julie Richardson

for the fruit filling:

4 1/2 pounds mixed plums, nectarines, or peaches, pitted, and sliced into one-inch slices

1/2 cup sugar

3 tablespoons cornstarch

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

juice of 1/2 lemon

for the dumplings:

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

2 tablespoons sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon sea salt

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon cardamom

1/2 cup cold, unsalted butter, cut into 1/2 inch cubes

1 cup cold buttermilk

Make the fruit filling: In a large mixing bowl, combine the cornstarch, sugar and salt. Toss the sliced fruit in with the cornstarch mixture and coat thoroughly. Stir in the lemon juice, then transfer fruit mixture into a large skillet or dutch oven. Let stand for fifteen minutes.

Bring the fruit mixture to a low simmer, stirring occasionally and gently. Simmer for two minutes, then remove from heat.

Make the dumplings: Whisk the flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, salt, cinnamon, and cardamom together in a bowl. Add the butter and toss until coated. Using your fingers, rub the butter into the mixture until crumbly. Add the buttermilk and stir until just combined.

Spoon the dough over the fruit, evenly distributing it in about eight servings. Return the pot to the stovetop and bring to a low simmer. Cover with a tight fitting lid, and continue to simmer for about twenty minutes, or until dumplings are puffy and cooked through. Remove the cover and let sit for fifteen minutes before serving.

And with such a worthy topic as stone fruit, I cannot even imagine the glorious summer fest submissions that lie ahead! Oh, love is surely a ripe peach, fragrant and fleeting. Here are just a few lovely treats from this week's line up.

Sara at Cooking Channel: Savory Stone Fruit recipes.

Todd and Diane of White on Rice Couple: Riesling Poached Pluots.

Margaret at A Way to Garden: What is stone fruit, anyhow? Plus: Clafoutis batter revisited.

Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Ginger and Vanilla Poached Peaches.

The FN Dish: Paula's Perfect Peach Cobbler.

Alison at Food2: Peachy Party Foods.

Kelly at Just a Taste: Peaches & Cream Cupcakes.

Liz on Healthy Eats: Puttin’ Up Peach Pickles, Compote and More.

Food Network UK: How to Poach a Peach.

Judy of Divina Cucina: Chocolate Amaretti Baked Apricots.

Cate at Sweetnicks: Blueberry Peach Smoothies.

Paige at The Sister Project: A Summer Fruit Whatchamacallit (not a pie, not a crisp, but delicious).

Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Cherry Apricot Pie with Ginger-Almond Crunch.

Alana at Eating From the Ground Up: Stone fruit slump.

Caron of San Diego Foodstuff: grilled peach parfait and coconut peach gazpacho.

The Gilded Fork: dossier & recipes featuring peaches, apricots, nectarines, plums, cherries, almonds, coconuts.

Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef: gluten-free peach-blueberry buckle.

Tara at Tea & Cookies: Making Peach Jam.

Tigress in a Jam: nectarine preserve with summer savory and white pepper.



And you know how it goes now... your turn!

shirred eggs with fresh herbs

I have been to Paris exactly three times.
The first was exactly as it should be, Eighteen, tormented lover who was, in turn, tormenting me. March, dismally gray, and all of our money on a disgusting hotel. We lived on bread only, with the occasional can of tuna fish for sustenance.
The bread was a revelation.
The second was eight weeks later, at the end of the same trip. This time too was exactly as it should be. Lover gone, and I, free and newly tattooed from my wanderings in Eastern Europe, had money this time, and the sun shone every day. A whole week with Sarah, who was staying with a friend who had a bathtub in her kitchen. There was wine that we bought on the corner, and several croissants a day.
As hard as I've tried, I'll tell you those croissants have not been forgotten.
My third visit to Paris was just last year, in the middle of my work trip, when I was, it seemed living someone else's life for a bit. I was only at the airport, so I wouldn't normally count it, except that I take my Paris visits where I can get them. And I flew into one airport and had to fly out of another, so technically I did drive through the city. And of course, right before I got on the plane, there was a croissant.
It was hard, with not flake in sight. That one's not sticking with me, though. It was the exception, I know for sure, and I forgive it entirely.

Despite these three limited experiences, France hangs around here in my own fabrications. Less than original, I know, but more and more, I find myself using France as an adjective rather than a proper noun, a word to emphasize the goodness of things.
I guess the word would be French.


Luckily, I have a few French people around to give it all a bit of authenticity. But either way, on good days these moments of France have their delicious ways of working their way in. When there is good cheese, and it is just at the right temperature, it is French, even if it was made right here in this part of the world. In fact, its localness might make it even more French- because it is local just like if I were in France. The verveine in my garden? French. Children in lovely unstained dresses? (as if!) French! Late dinner after the little ladies have gone to bed? Of course!


Using a country in my vocabulary without adequate experience of the place makes me feel like I've never left this country, like I've never left this town...like I'm smoking fancy cigarettes in my little kitchen just to bring in the exotic.

My passport has many stamps on it, after all. But sometimes I feel this way anyway. It is August, and I like to yearn a little.

As the moment came again to ponder my weekly summer fest offering, this month of missing led me to France. And for me, the most French place in my whole yard is the middle of my overgrown herb garden. And so I thought about herbs, and about what herbs want--about what I could eat to bring France right here. It had to be simple and effortless, perfect but able to be cooked in heels--chunky Julia heels. It had to be eggs.


Eggs and herbs have the most natural and romantic affinity for each other. Eggs hold herbs with strength and support, and for one like me who will eat fresh herbs all day long directly from the ground when given the chance, eggs are the perfect excuse. Really, I am not one for subtlety when it comes to herbs. And in the hope of really doing it, and really closing that bridge between me and my semi-imaginary France, it had to have cream and butter, and roughly ground salt and pepper. You might know it as shirred eggs, but today, we'll call it oefs en cocotte.

Oefs en cocotte are eggs baked in ramekins or gratin dishes or any little thing you might use that's, you know, French. They are sometimes over ham, but here over cream, and showered with a blizzard of herbs.
I know. When it snows it Paris, I'm sure it's snowing tarragon.
Sometimes they will be baked, but today we're putting them under the broiler because I am impatient. Impatience is not very French at all, but I'm working on it. More time sitting in that overgrown herb garden of mine should just about do it, I think.

Oefs en Cocotte (or, shirred eggs with fresh herbs)

serves one (while staring off at the distance)

3 eggs (make 'em good ones- it really counts here)
1 tablespoon heavy cream
1/2 tablespoon butter
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh herbs- any combination of parsley, rosemary, tarragon, thyme or basil
1 tablespoon freshly grated parmesan
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
salt and freshly ground pepper

Preheat your broiler to medium high. In a small bowl, combine the herbs, parmesan, and garlic. Crack the eggs into a ramekin or tea cup. (They must be ready so that you can act fast). Put the butter and cream into a large ramekin, small gratin dish or other oven safe dish. Put the dish about six inches under the broiler until the butter and cream starts to bubble and sizzle. Watch it carefully--it will burn quickly. Remove the dish from the oven, and pour the eggs into the hot dish over the bubbling cream, taking care not to break the yolks. Sprinkle the herb mixture over the top, and add a bunch of salt and pepper. Put under the broiler and cook for 3-4 minutes, or until the whites are cooked but the yolks are visibly liquid.

And oh, can you believe it... another week of deliciousness? This week we're talking about herbs, beans and greens, and it's going to be a good one. Here's what's cooking:

White on Rice Couple use fresh mint to make homemade mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Nicole at Pinch My Salt features Green Beans with Balsamic Browned Butter.
Margaret at A Way to Garden stores a year of herb and makes one-pot Farinata a polenta dish with greens.
Food Network UK is on the edge with herbs and greens.
Caroline at the Wright Recipes is cooking up Wax and Butter Bean Herbed Salad.
Jennifer and Mark at Gilded Fork have a virtual garden of recipes
The Best Bean Salads and a French Take on Greens, Beans and Herbs from the Cooking Channel
Top 6 Herbs from Healthy Eats
Leftover Herb Solution (Pesto!) from Allison at Food2
Recipes for The "Other" Summer Greens from the FN Dish
Kelly at Just a Taste -Makes Fresh Herb Ricotta
Caron at San Diego Foodstuff talks about Kale and Feta Empanadas and roasted Romano beans.


And you? What are you bringing to the pot luck this week?

street corn on the kabob

Well, here we are. It's week two of summer fest, and I don't even know what's going to happen. It could really get crazy.
Week one was a such a flurry of cukes and zukes inspiration. I will never wonder what to do with a zucchini again.

This week, we've moved on to another vegetable near and dear to my heart, one of those vegetables that I live for all year--in fact, this one is more than just a vegetable--it's a way the light falls while you're husking on the porch before the water boils, it's the search for floss when you've snuck away to the bathroom at a dinner party, it's one of the first foods my children really ate and took joy in. I would let them munch on the empty cob before they were really eating--and I'll never forget the look on Sadie's face when she found an errant kernel stuck to the cob. She lit up, and then searched excitedly for another one.

Corn doesn't really need a recipe. Boil it or grill it, a quick slather of butter and I'm done. But as I pondered what to bring to this week's summer fest, I went through all my favorites. There's that soup I can't seem to get enough of, and then there is of course popcorn in all of its versions. There is that warm salad that just doesn't photograph well but makes up for it ten times over in taste. And then of course there's the baked goods- the breads and the cookies that are all worth talking about again.

You might have noticed the guest list from that party last week- it was the place to be. From Margaret to Shauna to Diane and Todd, to Tigress and to Paige and so many fabulous others, the spread was fantastic and I wanted to bring something so great this week. Something different and creative and even delicious. I was stumped.
So I asked Joey for help, and I set him on the project.
For those of you who don't know Joey, he's a bit of an artist. He is officially a teacher, and he'll blush and shake his head if you call him an artist, but that's what he is. He says he just likes to make stuff, and then he spends eight hours on your birthday card, punching out tiny holes, lining them with tissue paper, and typing secret messages on the tissue paper. That husband of mine, he sure is an artist.

It took him all of five minutes to come to the idea. His eyes went all glassy, and then when he came out of his dream state, he had it.

Corn on the Kabob.

Now the problem with asking Joey to create a new dish is that he doesn't really care if you can make it. He doesn't even really care how it tastes. This is a guy who used to float math propositions with reeds and berries on the surface of the pond in college. He doesn't really care how it all works out. He cares that it's cool. And by cool, I do not mean in-crowd high school crowd cool. I mean full fledged geeky "cool!" if you get my meaning. That's corn on the kabob.

It all made sense in his head. "I'm going to cut the corn, and then stab it with an ice pick so that I can put it on a skewer, and then-"
"Um," (that's me) "I am not instructing people to stab the corn through with an ice pick. Can't you use something else?"
"Fine. A screw driver. And then I'm going to alternate it with something else, something the same width, like-"
"Zucchini?"
"Yes! Zucchini! And it will be like a striped corn on the cob, and sort of blown out by the other color- it will look wild!"
"And we could make a sauce?" (that's me. Because I know that I lost you at "ice pick" even though we changed it to screwdriver, and I want to give you a reason to stay with me. A sauce! A sauce! A really great sauce, actually.)
"Sure. A sauce, whatever. But isn't this going to be great? I want to make it right now!"
And so he did.


And of course it was cool! And even really good. And if the process of sticking a screwdriver through a corn cob does not scare you away, then you should do it, and you too will make art out of your food.

Luckily however, there are a lot of other things you can do with corn. And I have just the group to tell you about it. I'll post all of the corn-tastic links below. And of course, like you did so well last week- join in!

But first, of course, I will share Joey's recipe for corn on the kabob (made street-y by my little sauce). For all you artists out there...

Street Corn on the Kabob

4 ears of corn
2 zucchini about the same diameter as the corn
1/2 cup sour cream
the juice of 1 lime
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon chili powder, plus additional for sprinkling
1/4 cup grated parmesan cheese
10 mint leaves, finely chopped

Remove the outer leaves of the corn. Lower the inner leaves, but leave them intact at the base. Remove the silk. Using a sharp knife, cut the corn into 2-inch sections. The bottom section will still be attached to the husk. Using a screwdriver, poke a hole in the center of the cob of each section.
Cut the zucchini into 2-inch sections.
Assemble the kabobs: Starting with the section of the corn that is attached to the husk, arrange the corn and zucchini on the skewer alternately. When the skewer is filled, close the husk around it. Repeat with the other skewers.
Grill for about 12 minutes, or until corn is tender.
While the corn is grilling, combine the sour cream, lime juice, salt, chili powder, parmesan, and mint.
Serve corn hot, husk peeled back, slathered with sauce. Sprinkle with additional chili pepper, if you like a little extra spice.

And now, as promised... the corn party begins!

• Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Creamed Corn with Bacon and Rosemary


• Margaret at A Way to Garden: Vintage corn Americana slideshow, and no-frills creamed corn


• The FN Dish: Creamed Corn-Off: Battle of the Southern Cooks


• Alison at Food2: Freezing Corn


• Toby at Healthy Eats: Candied Corn and 4 other recipes


• Michelle at Cooking Channel: Browsing Corn Porn


• Judy/Tuscan Diva: Fried Polenta Crostini with Porcini Ragu


• Jennifer of Gilded Fork: Corn: Sweet Versatility (history, uses & recipes from cocktails to cornbread


• Chef Mark: Gettin' Corny! (Musings from childhood, tips & fresh-corn recipes)


• Caron of SanDiegoFoodstuff: Chino Corn Risotto with Chanterelles and Burrata


• Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Pickled Corn with Summer Onion and Basil


• White on Rice Couple: BBQ Chicken and Corn Pizza


• Shauna at Gluten Free Girl: a sweet corn risotto (and how to make corn stock with husks and mirepoix)


• Tigress in a Jam: Cream Corn Scones (the perfect way to use up left over roasted or boiled corn):


• Cate O’Malley at Sweetnicks: Corn and Spinach Stuffed Portobello Mushroom Caps


• Kelly at Just a Taste: Caramel Corn (plus pics of corn in its various popping stages)


• Paige Orloff of The Sister Project: Life-Changing Corn Pancakes


• Tara at Tea and Cookies: Farro Corn Salad with Tomatoes and Herbs


• Food Network UK blog: Talking Corn

cucumber mint sorbet with lime shortbread

Oh, ho! It's time for a party! I'm a little bit excited that I got invited and because I'm that sort of guest, I'm bringing all my friends along too! Are you ready for Summer fest 2010?

I do agree that it's good to know all the details before you actually commit to a party, and I'll tell you what I know. You never know when you will just say yes for the hell of it, and before you know it you're in the back of someone's jeep, squeezed in between two people you barely know, and the driver who may or may not be entirely competent is speeding through the dark to some undisclosed location. This is not that kind of party, I promise you. You will not be stranded, and wishing that you never went out. (You can tell I had some traumatic experiences in high school that I haven't quite gotten over) You will actually be safe at home in your kitchen, and you will be cooking fabulous things with friends.
I know! Let's get started!
So here's how it works. For the next few weeks, we'll be cooking with a few others around here. There will of course be a theme, because who doesn't love a theme, and those themes will revolve around the ingredients that most of us gleefully have coming out of our ears these days. I'll tell you what I'm making, and I'll tell you about what other people are making too, and then, if you're feeling bold, you tell me what you're making!
I know! Can you even wait? I can't!

This week, this very first week of Summer fest 2010, we are paying homage to both of those tenacious and all-powerful garden presences: cukes and zukes.

Having been raised on far too much zucchini frittata, I just don't do the zukes. Cukes however, are an entirely different story.

I might like cucumbers even more than I like radishes. I might be able to live on cucumbers for a very long time, as long they have just a bit of salt on them. Peeled or not, cut into spears or slices, I'll eat them with glee until the vines are empty.

As I tried to figure out what to bring to this first exciting week of Summer fest 2010, I thought I'd bring something for the kids, you know, the "mac and cheese at the potluck" if you will, because I do that sort of thing. But then I had such a day with girls, and there was one too many tantrums, and I changed my mind.

I am done trying to make food that the girls will eat. I am done! Stomping my foot done!
Those girls are wild and wonderful and unpredictable. They are exploring the world with imagination and abandon. They are growing at an astounding rate, and everything is changing from one day to the next. One moment they are speaking their secret language as they set off for an adventure, and the next, I am shocked and appalled to find a a perfect imprint of Sadie's teeth on Rosie's chest. There is a shadow of a bruise as well, and Sadie explains to me that she bit her sister because she was taking too long to brush her teeth.
I am done. I just can't predict what will make them clean their plates or make them cry at the dinner table. They can forage. There are plenty of potatoes in the garden.
Today, this one is for the grownups.

It turns out that I made dessert. And although you would think that anything sweet and cold would please the littles, not so over here. They gave it a try, and they were actually quite gracious about it. There was a pucker, and a "hmm" and a "can I just have the shortbread?"

More for me.

The truth is, I loved this. It was cold, and herby, and just sweet enough, and the texture was wild and unexpected. My friend Sarah was in the kitchen with me today, and her offer to whip up the lime shortbread as I stirred the frozen cucumber ice was too good to pass up. For the grownups, this was just the right dessert, and although Joey's pickle making obsession has gotten so out of control this year that I have had a hard time getting my hands on the cucumbers in this house (20 jars of pickles!), I was very thankful for the few that I had today.

Cucumber Mint Sorbet with Lime Shortbread
(with thanks to Joey for leaving me a few cukes, and to Sarah for the shortbread)

For the Sorbet:

4 pounds cucumbers, peeled, seeded, and cut into chunks
1 1/2 cups water
1 cup sugar
2 5-inch mint sprigs
1 5-inch tarragon sprig

For the Shortbread:

2 sticks unsalted butter
1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon rum
1/2 cup toasted roughly chopped cashews
zest of one lime

Make the sorbet-- In a small saucepan, combine the water and the sugar. Bring to a simmer over low heat, stirring to dissolve the sugar. When the sugar is dissolved, bring the mixture to a boil, and let it boil for two minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat, and submerge the mint and tarragon sprigs in the liquid. Cover and let sit for 20 minutes. Strain and discard herbs.
Puree the cucumbers in a food processor until entirely smooth. Combine the cucumber puree with the sweet herb syrup in a freezer safe dish. Place in the freezer and freeze for 3 hours, stirring every 30 minutes.

Make the shortbread--Preheat the oven to 275 degrees. Butter an 8 or 10-inch springform pan. Cream the butter and brown sugar in a stand mixer until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add the flour, salt, cashews and rum, and mix just until the flour is combined. Press into the prepared pan, and sprinkle the lime zest over the top. Bake until shortbread is just dry and starting to turn golden, 50-60 minutes.

So what else is everyone making this week? It's quite a spread, so far as I can see.

Margaret Roach of A Way to Garden is talking about why size matters (smaller! not bigger!), and she's sharing pickling and freezing tips.

Michelle Buffardi over at The Cooking Channel's Devour/The Blog enlightens us on zucchini's unexpected diversity, and at Food Dish/ Food Network, she's making Paula Deen's zucchini bread.

Alison Sickelka of Food2 blog starts off the meal with a few zucchini appetizers.
On zucchini appetizers:
http://www.food2.com/blog

Elizabeth Gray at healthy eats is offering a cucumber salad and a few other ideas for our favorite cukes and zukes.

Cate O’Malley at Sweetnicks is bringing Indian Cucumber Wraps.

And my friend Paige over at the sister project is hating zucchini, and telling us all about it.

Diane and Todd, the White on Rice Couple are stuffing cucumbers with prosciutto and feta (I hope they made enough- everyone's going to want one of those!)

Kelly Senyei at Just a Taste is bringing a cucumber and sesame salad, and she's giving us a special lesson in slicing cucumbers on a mandoline.

Still have more cukes and zukes?

Shauna at Gluten Free Girl made soup and soupcicles.

Tigress in a Pickle made so many pickles.

And Judy the Tuscan Diva has fried squash blossoms!

And there's more coming! I'll keep you up to date as the day goes on. How about you? No need to come to the party empty handed...