(If memory serves correct, this photo is of a wort kettle fermenting its way to beer at New Belgium Brewery in Colorado. D or A- any help on this? (And I know, a proper story is long overdue.))

 This post is featured on Sustainable Table as this month’s Adventure in Fermentation.

As promised, this month’s Adventures in Fermentation has us discussing the basics. What is fermentation, specifically in food. To start the conversation, let’s clarify that I truly mean the basics. I am no expert on the subject, just a food loving individual that has been fervently fermenting away for about 1 year now. My mind cannot hold down the chemical makeup, compounds and  gases part of the process, so this is a primer with further reading listed at bottom.

In short, fermentation is the process of turning sugars (carbohydrates) into alcohol (think wine) or acid (think vinegar). The final result depends on the bacteria present.

Something I find fascinating is that some bacterias are specific to a region. For instance, the beloved sourdough bread of San Francisco is specific to the lovely city, which is why sourdough bread in other regions rarely has that same tangy flavor as San Francisco sourdough. It’s so specific it is named after the city: Lactobacillus sanfrancisco. You can even purchase this bacteria online to inoculate your own starter with the culture. If you live in San Francisco you are lucky enough to simply leave a bread starter in your windowsill and Lactobacillus sanfrancisco will likely join the party.

Here’s another example: Ever wandered into a strawberry patch a few days after heavy rains and the field smells ever so slightly of wine? The fruit has begun the natural process of fermentation.

Many items you don’t think of as fermented foods are in fact, fermented. They come to us from an ancient tradition of fermentation, most often for food storage (when people are involved). Today, instead of relying on fermentation, we tend to rely on nuking all bacteria out of our food to create a dead zone, then refrigerate to keep growth away as long as possible. Most of us know wine and beer is fermented, even if we don’t know the process. Yogurt, cheese, miso, sourdough bread, kimchi, pickles, sauerkraut, soy sauce, salami, kombucha and more also arrive on our plate after fermentation has occurred.

In fact, without fermentation, it’s safe to say we probably wouldn’t be here today– or at least habitation in a large part of the world would have occurred after the invention of the refrigerator in the early 1900’s. That’s all well and good, you say, but you mention bacteria and that’s bad!

Oh sweet bacteria! Whether you like it or not, bacteria is present in our everyday lives. We breathe it, we walk on it, we touch it, we live it. In fact, without bacteria, digestion in our bodies would not be possible. It’s up to you to choose to fight it with the use of modern anti-bacterial soaps, scrubs, chemicals and pills, or live in harmony with it, making both you and the planet stronger.

I choose to live with bacteria. I’m not saying I walk around New York City licking subway poles, or if I get cut I don’t clean out the wound, but I might not wash my hands before I eat something. Since I made this decision, putting food that is alive and rich in bacteria into my body, I am sick less often, feel more awake, I digest food better, and in general feel healthier. In other words, I have created a thriving colony of bacteria in my stomach that are able to fight off infection more readily. Bad bacteria enters my system, good bacteria, already present in excess, attacks.

The following is summed from the great fermentor Sandor Katz’s book, Wild Fermentation.

Fermentation can produce alcohol (as in wine), lactic acid (cheese/yogurt), and acetic acid (vinegar). Fermentation preserves high amounts of nutrients in foods. It also begins breaking food down, making it not only easier to digest, but nutrients easier to absorb. Fermentation also transforms the food, producing new nutrients and removing toxins from foods (which is why some believe fermented soy is the only way this legume should be consumed).

Milk, especially when we pasteurize it, is indigestible for many people. By turning lactose into lactic acid, dairy products are not only easier to digest, they’re delicious and highly nutritious (which is why some producers are making big bucks selling “probiotic” filled products. Guess what– those probiotics, as in positive (or good) bacteria, should already be in the product if it is in fact real yogurt, not pasteurized after cultures were added!).

As we realize more and more, just like mono-cultures in our agriculture system are bad, mono-cultures in our eating habits are bad. By eating a diversity of foods helps a body receive a large range of nutrients. The same goes for fermented foods, and exposing your body to a wide range of microorganisms (bacteria).

Live bacteria are where these nutrients lie. Unfortunately, we bake bread before we eat it, and we pasteurize many products (like wine) killing any live bacteria that could help us. You can get your live bacteria rush by seeking out items that mention they are “unpasteurized,” “raw,” or contain “live cultures.” Or, you can ferment food yourself. The benefit of fermenting your own foods is that you harness your local bacteria, raising your resistance to allergies and bad bacteria in your own home or neighborhood.

Last month we discussed how to make our own yogurt. Next month we’ll explore another fermented food- any suggestions?

For further reading, check out:
Sandor Katz, Wild Fermentation
Wikipedia’s Fermentation (biochemistry) page
Microbial Fermentation

Adventures in Fermentation is my new blog series over at Sustainable Table. Apparently it was Twittered too (I’m not familiar) and placed on their RSS feed. I’ll be posting a fermentation adventure about once a month. Goal #1: Set Goals. Goal #2: Stick to Goals.

Throughout the Adventure I hope to cover:
Wild Fermented Pickles, Ginger Beer, Sauerkraut, Beer, Kombucha, Kefir, Kimchi, Bread, Olives, Miso and more! The next installment will speak more about fermentation in general, and perhaps provide a report back of an upcoming fermentation party I’ll be attending (I received the invite 3 months ago so I could ferment on my attendance).

I realize most of my readers are the quiet lurking type, but I would love to get some comments going about things you like to ferment, recipes you have, or funny fermenting stories.

The post is below, or head over to Sustainable Table to read it, and other great stories!

Welcome to the first installment of Adventures in Fermentation. In these postings we’ll explore the universe of fermented foods, happenings in the fermentation world, and delve into some recipes to try.

Fermented food and drink are not just wine, beer, and pickles! There is a whole universe of fermented foods to explore. In the next issue, I’ll talk more about what fermentation is exactly and its many positives, but until then, let’s jump right into something soft and cloudy: yogurt.

That’s right, yogurt is a fermented food (remember the term probiotic for the next posting). It is one of the simpler fermented foods to make, requires few supplies, and is something most of us are familiar enough with that you might be willing to try it.

Here’s a kicker that might get you making your own yogurt:
Yogurt on the market most of us are accustomed to has added thickeners (tapioca, citrus pulp, cornstarch, or other synthetic agents) added to make the end product a thick and even consistency (there are also a lot of sugars added). We sometimes also see “with probiotics” stamped on the container. Yogurt naturally is a probiotic food, so forget that claim. The real question is: Why eat all those extras if all you want is yogurt?

Yogurt that does not use thickeners, is much thinner, sometimes even lumpy. To make the consistency weightier, without thickeners, producers often drain the product losing a lot of whey in the process (which can be used to bake bread with). I have heard if you heat the milk to a higher temperature before adding culture you can thicken your yogurt further, but if you are using raw milk products, you run the risk of killing heat sensitive bacteria that makes milk digestible.

I enjoy homemade goat yogurt (made with goat milk) topped with granola, a scoop of homemade preserves, or simply as a yogurt beverage similar to kefir (another fermented food) full of all those great probiotics.

If you are interested in making your own yogurt, it is fairly simple. (read on for the details!)

You will need:
• raw milk or high quality organic milk
• yogurt cultures
• a large pot to heat the milk
• a cooking thermometer
• a glass jar to store your yogurt
• cheesecloth

If you have a friend with a batch of yogurt going, you can grab about 2 tablespoons of their finished yogurt per gallon of fresh milk to make your own yogurt. If not, I recommend purchasing cultures (both a thicker European culture or “tangy” culture) from New England Cheese Making Supplies.

The final yogurt recipe is dependent on the culture you use.

If you don’t want to bother with cultures, you can try using store-bought yogurt as your starter:

1/2 gallon organic (or raw) whole milk
1 cup organic yogurt

Heat the milk on medium-low heat in a saucepot to 165 F, do not bring to a boil. Remove from heat and allow milk to cool to 110 F. Add yogurt, stir to incorporate, cover with a clean kitchen towel and secure with a rubber band or tie. Place in a warm location, undisturbed, overnight (inside a turned off oven works great). The next day, transfer to storage container and refrigerate. To thicken the yogurt, strain it through multiple layers of cheesecloth or a coffee filter. Reserve whey that drains for baking.

More ideas:
Use goat or sheep milk for other tangy yogurt creations
Sprinkle with cinnamon and a drizzle of honey

Yogurt is not just for breakfast or a snack! Try some of these ideas:
Blitz your yogurt with chickpeas or white beans for a delicious spread
Serve a dollop over grilled lamb
Use on your sandwich instead of mayo
Mix with garlic and a chipotle pepper and top a quesadilla
Add a dollop to soup
Use it in baked goods, or whip it with powdered sugar as icing
Make a fruit smoothie

Two recipes in two days? I must be going crazy. More likely, I have a few heavy weeks ahead of me and I thought this to be the perfect Valentine treat for you and your honey. Also, if your schedule is looking to be as hectic as mine (or you want to indulge in something that tastes like it took forever to make), this cake whips together in minutes, requires no dreaded cheesecake water bath baking, is light as a cloud, and as pure as heaven.

A while back I had an opportunity to purchase raw goat milk. Despite dreaming of a goat cheese-lavender-honey ice cream since summer, I made yogurt. But with this recipe today, I am one step closer to my ice cream dreams. Why? Because this recipe certifies that the effort for ice cream will be a delicious payback. If anyone out there wants to try ice cream and report back, by all means go for it!

A few weeks back I was flipping through my food magazines when a goat cheese cake got me thinking about my goat cheese ice cream dreams. While it’s too cold now for ice cream (okay, honestly, it is never too cold for ice cream), a little cheesecake might be just the thing to test my combination. With some newly engaged friends coming over for dinner I had a perfect excuse too.

So I set out altering the cheesecake to my own likings. I think further changes can be made to bring out more intense flavors, like the addition of lavender oil (is that food safe?) to the cake. And maybe the topping could go for a tablespoon of heavy cream just to thicken it slightly. I also tried to find chocolate wafers, but couldn’t. (And refused the advice of a local shopkeeper who recommended using vanilla wafers and blitzing it with chocolate syrup.) The lavender is subtle in the crust, the honey is just right and the goat cheese is not at all overpowering. The finished cake is not too sweet, so test the sweetness, or just drizzle extra honey over the top.

Honey Lavender Goat Cheese Cake
Makes 12 servings. Active Time= 20 minutes. Inactive Time= 2.5 hours.
Crust:
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon organic lavender buds, no stems
8 ounces chocolate cookie (Recommended: Newman’s Organic Choco Alphabet Cookies)
Filling:
12 ounces goat cheese, at room temperature
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/4 cup honey
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups heavy cream, cold
Topping:
2 tablespoons honey
1 teaspoon organic lavender buds

1 buttered 9-inch springform pan.

In a small saucepan over medium heat combine butter, honey and lavender. Heat until everything is just melted together. Use a food processor to pulse cookies until grainy. Add butter combination to cookies and pulse until combined. Lavender will be mostly broken apart. Push into springform pan, refrigerate 30 min. Whip goat cheese, lemon juice, honey and salt until smooth. Add heavy cream, whip until thick. Pour into crust and smooth top using a spatula. Refrigerate at least 2 hours. For topping, just before serving, warm honey and lavender a few minutes to infuse. Drizzle over cake, straining and serve.

At twenty-six years old, my grandmother ran from her country under the protection of the night’s sky. She ran with four children under the age of seven, her husband, and a lifetime of recipes tucked away in her mind. That night they left behind their friends, livestock, farm, language, family, country and way of life, in an attempt to gain freedom. It was a process that would take five years in a refugee camp before being adopted into the United States. A process where they would not be able to return to their homeland or speak with relatives for forty years.

During her life in Latvia, well before women held jobs out of the house, my grandmother was head chef at an all-girls boarding school—those lucky girls. There, she cooked up piradzini (soft, doughy crescent-shaped rolls stuffed with bacon or mushrooms), kotlettes (ground meat patties), and my family’s all-time favorite nac rita atkal.

Nac rita atkal translates as “come back tomorrow.” “In the old days,” my grandmother, now ninety-two, will say in her still broken English, “parties lasted days, with friends sleeping between dancing and eating, close to the fire.” One has to imagine, in a country that can get so cold, where winter nights go on for days, a party that lasts until the one hour of sun-up isn’t a party, it’s a way of life. Snow is not a wispy blanket, but coats the ground in a waist-high thicket. “At those parties,” my grandmother still remembers wistfully, we made nac rita atkal.

My brothers and I know them simply as Latvian Pancakes. They are beyond a treat in my house. They are so good, that even in the six years of my noble vegetarianism, my grandmother knew to make me a veggie version of the savory snack to keep the household peace.

This is a recipe that must always be secretly doubled. One batch goes onto the table for immediate consumption (if it can make it to the table), while the other gets whisked away quickly and quietly, carefully hidden in an odorless, opaque, non-conspicuous container on the other side of the house until everyone is good and stuffed. Even then, it’s whereabouts and contents must be kept unknown except to the privileged few.

To this day, Latvian Pancakes are the one food my brothers and I still fight over to take home frozen. I ration mine down to the week, knowing precisely how many I can eat to keep my addiction at stasis before the next batch will grace my plate.

Unfortunately, it is impossible to write any of my grandmother’s recipes down. They are stored neatly in her brain, now getting a bit foggy, so my uncle has taken to video taping her kitchen movements. She moves quickly. Too fast to measure anything beyond how many eggs are used– which also varies depending on her mood, the outside temperature, the position of the sun, and countless other variables. “Grandma, how much flour?” I’ll ask. “This much,” she says thrusting her fist into the flour and tossing a handful into the mixing bowl. She stirs. “So… one cup?” I question. “No, more!” she declares adding more bit by bit until the batter is to her liking.

While I do not have my grandmother’s exact recipe for this pancake, I am able make a butchered version that is pretty good. After all, I have come to realize, it’s my grandmother’s touch and bittersweet memories of her home that make them truly perfect.

The pancakes are minced meat, always leftovers, usually beef, stuffed inside perfectly folded golden crepes. Turkey makes a decent filling, especially useful with Thanksgiving leftovers and roasted vegetables with mushrooms can pass as edible. Traditionally served with sour cream, apple or cranberry sauce, though also excellent plain, I argue there is no finer dish.

Nac Rita Atkal (Come Back Tomorrow or Latvian Pancakes)
About 25 pancakes
Crepe:
1-1/4 cups flour
1/2 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
8 eggs
1 cup whole milk
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup melted butter

In a medium-sized bowl, sift together dry ingredients. Create a moat in the middle, add remaining ingredients. Whisk together, smoothing out lumps. Refrigerate at least 2 hours, ideally 8 hours minimum. Note: If batter gets too thick, thin lightly with water.

Warm a dollop of butter on a 9-inch skillet over medium heat. Ladle in the batter, tipping the pan quickly to spread evenly, paper-thin. Brown one side golden, 2 to 3 minutes, then flip onto a plate. Continue with remaining batter.

Filling:
3-1/2 cups roasted beef (recommended: leftover brisket), roughly chopped
1/2 cup roasted mushrooms, chopped
1/2 cup chicken or beef stock
1/4 cup chopped onions, sautéed golden
1/4 cup sour cream (or 1/2 sour cream 1/2 gravy)
salt, to taste

Working in batches, pulse all ingredients in a food processor until chopped to the consistency of wet ground beef. Add salt if needed.

Working with the crepes golden (cooked) side up, place two heaping tablespoons in the center. Fold the bottom up over the filling, then the top down, then sides, forming a small tight, square pocket. (The uncooked side of the crepe acts like a glue to hold crepes together lightly.) Transfer seam-side down to a plate. Repeat until all crepes are filled.

Return the skillet to medium-high heat, warming a large dollop of butter. Place a layer of stuffed pancakes seam down. Cook 3 minutes until golden, turn and cook another 2-3 minutes. Transfer to a plate, continuing to cook assembled pancakes.

Serve with sour cream, apple and/ or cranberry sauce.

Homemade mayonnaise is my new favorite condiment. Forget the bleached out jellified gunk that can last years in the blue and yellow bottle. The homemade kind has a bright lemon flavor that will have you using it more like the star of your dish, rather than an extra. (The horrors of mayonnaise previously discussed here.) But the best part, once you’ve accomplished the basic formula, you can add all sorts of extra flavors, turning the seemingly blase item into something stellar:

The addition of garlic makes a fantastic topping for potatoes.

Add lemon juice and zest for a lobster dunk.

Fold in smoked paprika for shrimp.

And the list goes on. I had extra mayonnaise sitting around the other week, fried up an Ancho chile and pureed it with some mayonnaise. The result was a rich and complex mayonnaise with hints of dark chocolate and a lingering, yet not overwhelming spice. While sweet potato fries came to mind, I scratched it after a trip to the fish monger: fish tacos.

In the depths of winter we long for fresh vegetables, but fish always makes me happy. And because winter is the ideal time for some of my favorite catches (lobster and oysters– that’s right, simple pleasures) I can keep quiet until the buds break through.

Until then, fish tacos (or heck, lobster tacos with lobster prices so deliciously low) are a great way to trudge through these bleak months. Served warm or at room temperature, a little bit of spice mixed in will warm you inside out in no time.

Another taco bonus: storage vegetables make the perfect toppings. Don’t get stuck in the lie that all tacos should be topped with chopped tomato, lettuce, cheddar cheese and a dollop of sour cream! A little cabbage tossed with lime zest and juice (forget that lettuce) and crisp baby turnips thinly sliced (instead of a spring radish) and of course, some ancho mayonnaise (instead of cheese or sour cream) provides a winning combination. A sprinkle of fresh cilantro or parsley before you seal the deal and bite in is a delicious accent that works wonders.

Fish Tacos w/ Ancho Mayonnaise & Winter Storage Vegetables
Serving Size= 2 persons. Cook time= aprx 10 minutes. Prep time= aprx 20 minutes.
For the Ancho Mayonnaise (recipe adapted from Joy of Cooking):
2 dried ancho chile, stemmed and seeded
1 tablespoon peanut oil
1 egg
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon honey
1-1/4 cups olive oil
3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
For the Tacos:
4 mini flour tortillas
1/4 of a medium-sized red cabbage, sliced into 1/2-inch slivers
pinch of salt
juice of 1 lime plus zest
2 baby salad turnips, sliced thinly
1/4 cup fresh parsley or cilantro, chopped
3/4 lb Preferred white fish (a flaky fish, like mahi mahi works well, as do meatier choices like monkfish or lobster)
2 tablespoons olive oil

Make the Mayonnaise:
Heat a pan on medium-high, add peanut oil and fry ancho chile on both sides to lightly blacken. Set aside to cool slightly and cut into 1/2-inch wide slivers. In a blender, combine egg, salt, cayenne, honey, ancho chile and 1/4 cup of the olive oil. Blend until well combined. With blender on high, slowly add 1/2 cup more olive oil, then slowly add the lemon juice, then slowly add the remaining olive oil, stopping when a thick consistency is reached.
Make the Tacos:
Heat a dry pan on high heat. Add tortillas, scalding about 45 seconds on each side, until slightly browned and warm. Wrap in tinfoil and set aside. Reduce heat to medium-high and prepare vegetables while pan cool slightly: Slice cabbage and toss with salt, lime juice and zest; slice turnips; chop fresh herbs, arrange all on a platter for toppings. Rinse off fish, pat dry, then sprinkle with salt and pepper. Add olive oil to the pan and sear fish 3-4 minutes each side, until cooked through. Flake off bone, fold in 2 tablespoons of the ancho mayonnaise (or more if desired) and serve ingredients, assembling tacos with desired toppings as you eat.

If you are looking for some light (milky) reading, head over to Sustainable Table. I revamped the Dairy Page (http://www.sustainabletable.org/issues/dairy/) a while back and its finally posted. (Sadly, the last line was altered– raw milk and raw milk products are illegal in most states.)

I also edited their page on RBGH, you can find by following this link: http://www.sustainabletable.org/issues/rbgh/ 

I was going to post another post-summer wrap up when D told me I had to get these babies online– our Election Doughnuts.

We had a quart of raw milk go sour on us the other week so I’ve been attempting to use it up in baking applications. (Whereas raw milk will go sour and is still safe to consume (you can even consume it as a beverage), pasteurized milk goes rancid when it goes bad and should be discarded immediately when an off smell is noticed.)

I scanned baking books for quick recipes that required a lot of buttermilk (replacing it with my sour milk) and no matter how many cups I thought I’d be using up, I could swear this is a bottomless quart. Last week I made a loaf each of jalapeno cornbread and gingerbread, with milk to spare. But, it was a doughnut recipe I had been eyeing since the beginning of my search I was dying to try, but set aside because I didn’t think it used enough of the milk (only 3/4 a cup). This time, I hoped to finish off the milk.

We made this batter last night and fried up a few circular poppers before hitting the pillow, refrigerating the remaining dough (still unable to finish off the sour milk!). When a late afternoon snack was in order, and I rummaged for some cookie cutters that would work on the doughnuts, I pulled out a large square and a small star.

“This is weird,” D commented.

“No, cool.”

“Oh, wait, Election Doughnuts.”

A little more pre-thought and we could have made these rectangular (more flag shaped) with powdered sugar stripes (stencil some stripes)– maybe tomorrow with the last of the dough. As D transfered these out of the lard (that’s right, fried the good ol’ fashion way), I dusted them with powdered sugar and lamented, too bad we’re not having an election party tonight. But that just means more treats for us.

This batter was a bit of an experimentation. I prefer cake doughnuts, over yeasted (cake have a denser consistency), my favorite being the chocolate cake with sugar glaze. D is fond of the apple cider doughnut in fall months– also cake, so obviously a cake doughnut was in order. Step 1, doughnut style, over and easy.

Step 2 was to assemble a chocolate-cider doughnut without using D’s precious apple cider (he has found his new favorite beverage that combines apple cider, rum, brandy, lemon juice and maple syrup– or “all things perfect in fall” so I am not allowed to touch his cider). Instead, we went with semi-sweet chocolate and extra nutmeg for that fall flavor. Chocolate and nutmeg works, and the final doughnut had a hint of chocolate with a lingering nutmeg note. Nice.

Overall, I would have liked a little more rise in these doughnuts, but they were a good first time try. The finished consistency was good, but the chocolate flavoring isn’t there yet. Because I used semi-sweet chocolate, I reduced the sugar by 2 tablespoons. The end result was a doughnut that would make a good plain cake doughnut, but was not sweet enough to reach the chocolate cake or cider doughnut results desired, more sugar needed.

So if there is still time in your state, get out and vote– and eat your doughnut!

Chocolate-Cider Buttermilk Doughnut
Recipe TK

My local organics food store carries goat milk. For weeks I toyed with the idea of buying some, but ended with a pause, wondering what I would do with it. When I grew up, it was always a glass of milk at dinner, but these days I reach for water (or wine)– all essential to mind and body health and vitality. I use (cow) milk to silken an occasional omelette, in coffee, or to make ice cream or a milk shake. I always think, what would I do with goat milk? (Although I admit a goat milk, lavender and honey ice cream has been on my mind.)

A few weeks ago I was at a friend’s home and was offered goat milk. Really? So I tried it and all I could think of was that I was drinking liquid goat cheese, or chevre. Interesting. D suggested mixing in some honey and cinnamon. It became a deliciously sweet spiced concoction with that slight, but unmistakable goat cheese “barnyard” undertone of sweet hay and Earth.

When an opportunity arose to acquire some raw goat milk I thought I would give it a try. Not necessarily to drink, but perhaps make that ice cream, some chevre, or yogurt. I bought the cultures and when the coin toss came to pass, yogurt won out.

Though of course like anything homemade, I thoroughly enjoyed my goat yogurt over any yogurts I have had in the past, though the recipe needs some experiment.

Why?

Yogurt most of us are accustomed to on the market has added thickeners (tapioca, citrus pulp, cornstarch, or other synthetic agents) added to make them a thick and even consistency– not to mention sugars. If you have bought yogurt that does not use thickeners, you’ll notice it is much thinner, and sometimes even lumpy. To make the consistency weightier, without thickeners, producers will often drain the product, losing a lot of whey in the process.

I have heard if you heat the milk to a higher temperature before adding culture it gets thicker, but when using raw milk products, you run the risk of killing heat sensitive bacteria that makes milk digestible.

It is something that is by no means perfect. I would love a thick yogurt, without the use of heat– a more Greek style yogurt. Perhaps I need to grab a flight to Greece and learn from a grandmother.

Until then, I enjoy my yogurt with granola, a scoop of my own grandmother’s preserves, or simply as a yogurt beverage, full of all those great probiotics.

If you are interested in making your own yogurt, it is fairly simple. All you need are some cultures to get you started (recipe is dependent on the culture you use). Raw milk or a high quality organic milk is recommended.

An important garden lesson: you cannot stop a cucumber plant from going crazy– Actually, you cannot stop any vining plant from clinging and climbing wherever it sees fit. But let’s talk cucumbers.

I planted an heirloom variety known as lemon cucumber. Lemon because the resulting fruit is fairly lemon shaped and ripen from light green to a bright lemon yellow. When I checked on the plant two Fridays ago there were a number of flowers waiting to burst with fruit. I left for a week to visit D in upstate New York terrified I would miss out on a massive cucumber harvest. (Seriously, I had three different dreams about lost or unattended garden bounty.)

While upstate, I purchased a beautiful 3-gallon ceramic crock pot from a lovely antique dealer– really a gift for all those cucumbers ready to spring to life. When D and I returned Sunday we headed to the garden for our first massive harvest: corn, tomatoes, cucumbers, eggplant and ever more basil.

We’re overflowing with cucumbers now and decided to take action. Garden cucumbers head to the crock for brining and CSA cucumbers get crock treatment or turned into the great little snack you see pictured above. I’ll provide a picture of the brined cucumbers once the pickles are (hopefully) tasty and ready for the camera.

Until then, satisfy your cucumber (and tomato) bounty with this fresh and easy snack. I used a hearty cranberry-walnut bread as the base. Any other good bread will do, or go without bread, using the cucumber as a base. Top with any fresh herb and voila, a tasty garden treat.

Cucumber Bites
Serving Size= 5 piece. Prep time= 5 minutes.
5 small slices, or 2 larger slices cut small of cranberry-walnut bread
1 cucumber, sliced 1/2-inch thick
1 vine ripe tomato, sliced 1/2-inch thick
salt/ pepper to taste
5 slices, 1/4-inch thick, feta
fresh thyme for garnish (parsley, chives, parsley or cilantro will work too)
lemon spritz (optional)

Method: Toast bread until golden. Layer bread with cucumber and tomato. Season with salt and pepper then top with feta and a sprinkle of herbs. Add a spritz of lemon over top for some added zip.

I know, I know, all the controversy over foie gras. It’s so over, right? I’m staying out of politics with this one because I’ve heard pretty good arguments on both sides. (Honestly though, it’s not like I’m buying the stuff all the time.)

But I like the stuff. Actually, I think I may love the stuff (in small doses from time to time, of course). You know what else? I can get it more local than my mangosteens. Hudson Valley in fact, which is pretty much New York City’s backyard. A little more food for thought: With Chicago lifting the ban in May, are we a little closer to acceptance? (Obviously, not in California where the ban is in effect until 2012.)

Back in December D received a beautiful gift of foie gras and miraculously, some still exists tucked in the freezer, sliced and ready to go, wrapped in wax paper and excessive amounts of plastic wrap to fend off freezer burn. Still there because, simply, I don’t think about foie gras every day and because D practices what I like to call “boy searches,” whenever he looks for something. Ladies, you know what I’m talking about: Man opens drawer or cabinet and without moving declares an item not present because it is not face level, front row, with a neon sign screaming I’m what you’re looking for! My reply is something along the lines of, Yes it is. Bottom shelf, left side, behind the x. This doesn’t just happen in the kitchen.

A few months back we broke into the stash and took a handful of slices to a local wine bar and let the chef do what he may. Three amazing dishes were presented to us, wines to match, shared equally between us, my friend DR, the owner and chef.

But now while D is away, as cruel as it may be, the mice do play!

Oh… just a little crumb, he’ll never even notice– until of course he returns and reads this post. By which point it will be happily digested.

Strangely enough, I wasn’t thinking about foie at all when I suddenly had an overwhelming urge to eat some. I was writing away on a lonely Friday night thinking about peaches (I don’t always think about food, I was writing about peaches, okay). For some strange reason, foie gras popped in, blocking my peach receptors. The urge was so strong that I vowed my brain I would make foie gras the following day for a little snack if it would so kindly return to peaches.

I’ve been so good lately it’s a reward really. As I said, D is away and I have three times the amount of vegetables to cope with than normal. Not only is there a full Community Supported Agriculture share booming with summer harvest (seriously, 10 zucchini!?), there is also the garden shoving zucchini and basil down my throat. Perhaps like a future foie you could say.

While I methodically remove one item from the summer repertoire each night (a quart of pesto, frozen zucchini), I turned vegetarian eating through the non-preservable, refusing to purchase more food for the overflowing fridge.

Possibly this is where the overwhelming urge for foie gras came from: My own rejection of meat protein this past week lured me into the most forbidden meat of all: foie gras. I will continue to swear by it though: It was the peach’s fault! And how delicious they are together.

A closer look at the picture reveals I picked the worst of the foie (if there is such a thing)– The little scrappy lobe bits that weren’t real slices. And while I’m admitting things, I will also state that when the foie gras was finished from my plate, I licked the remaining fat clean off.

Seared Foie Gras and Peaches
Serving Size= 1
1 one-inch thick slice of foie gras
salt/ pepper
1/2 peach, sliced into 4 wedges
1/4 teaspoon fresh ground coriander
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon sugar
pine nuts
2 or 3 leaves of fresh chopped mint
1 tablespoon heavy cream (optional)

Method:  Warm a small skillet to medium-high heat. Sprinkle foie gras with salt and pepper on both sides. Mix the coriander, cinnamon and sugar and sprinkle over peach wedges, both sides. Sear peaches on both sides, until blackened, set aside. Sear foie gras on both sides, until blackened. Do not overcook the foie gras. The longer it cooks the less foie you get as it melts to fat! Place foie gras on a a plate, layer on peaches, sprinkle with a few pine nuts, mint and drizzle with cream. Serve with a mild cracker or melba toast.
NOTE: Heavy cream is optional in this dish. Already so creamy on it’s own, it doesn’t need it, but, well, peaches n’ cream.