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.

Many people I know have a funny relationship with food: they are on constant diets, yet continue to gain weight. I’m not counting people with real health problems, but those consistently obsessed with weight loss and dieting (although I suppose this could be considered a real health problem psychologically).

We are a nation obsessed with our image and one of the most obvious ways to control our look, short of surgery or buying new clothing, is to control what we ingest. The problem as I see it, is that when we stop listening to our bodies and rely on special diets, we deprive ourselves of what our bodies actually need. If you don’t have strict enough control, you end up bingeing when you are confronted with the food your body craves.

Each of us is in fact a unique individual with special needs only our bodies understand– not a diet book that can supposedly work miracles on millions. If we can stick to real foods (fruits, vegetables, grains), without too much added salts and sugars, staying away from processed goods (which just make you crave more), our bodies eventually regulate and notify us about what is required for continued function. Of course, I’m no nutritionist.

There is one woman in particular I run into every month or so on the street: oh Stacey! You look like you’re losing weight!

It may or may not be true. This greeting, or, “Wow, you’re looking great,” are two common conversation starters people like to provide when it has been a while between sightings (and continues our obsession over our bodies). Every time I see this particular woman it is the same statement, followed by, are you on a special diet? Every time I see her I provide the same secret answer.

She asks, one because it is polite I suppose, but two, because she has a litany of legitimate health problems, many of which can actually be solved if she can create a healthy relationship with food. She is looking for the secret. Sure, I tell her. I’ve been frying my eggs in leftover bacon fat. I eat pork chops, roasted chicken, yogurt, cheese and a lot of vegetables, raw or sauteed in olive oil… You know, whatever is around.

Well you must cook a lot, she counters. I make lasagna, that’s it.

Well, that’s good, I say, that you cook. But in my mind I’m reminded of weekly food calendars, with hers looking something like this: Monday, lasagna; Tuesday, lasagna; Wednesday, lasagna… In the time it takes to make lasagna for a week, could she make, say maybe some chicken? Or in even less time some fish? Or really, anything other than lasagna?

Sure I cook (not as often as most people think), but most of what I make are quick meals that take just as long as opening a can and setting the microwave– and even faster than heading to a restaurant and placing an order. If it’s a food that takes longer to prepare, I make enough for leftovers I don’t mind eating cold or which can be reheated easily on the stove top (I don’t have a microwave).

So the secret special diet is that it is not a secret at all. It’s one people generations before us followed because there was no alternative: eat foods with ingredients you can name, know where they come from, or how they are produced or grown. Avoid processed and packaged food and drink, stay away from corn syrup, hydrogenated oils and bypass the advertisements telling you to load up on sugars, starches and new “low-calorie,” “all natural” treats… And maybe one other thing: Follow the variety seasons offer.

As I ate my breakfast this morning I thought about her question and was inspired to take a picture. Was I glad I was not eating lasagna? Yes. Was I glad this meal took all of 8 minutes to prepare? Yes.

There is no recipe to this meal because by the picture I think it is pretty straight forward:
sauteed asparagus
an egg, however you like it
a piece of cheese
slice of whole grain toast with butter
some other veggies or fruit, if available
fresh herbs, if available

Just Braise disappeared for a bit, but I assure you we kept eating. My energy has been focused on a food literacy project in NYC public schools and re-writing dairy pages for a non-profit. Once published, I’ll share my extensive knowledge of the dairy world with everyone. Until then, I have self-dubbed myself the NYC Milkmaid.

I assure you readers have not missed much. In the past few weeks dishes were sometimes brisk, consisting of leftovers, frozen soups and toasted bagels (we all have our days). While delicious, let us just say it was nothing to write home about. Can you blame us? As T.S. Eliot said, April is the cruellest month. What is a foodie to do when those root vegetables no longer look as crisp and inviting as they once did? What happens when dreams of spring greens appear so close yet feel so far?

We turn to the sea.

As I may have overly noted again and again, I live deliciously close to a handful of fish markets. I implore any of you who live remotely near to these dying markets (butchers, fish mongers and assorted now “specialty” markets) to shop these stores. The quality is often far superior than any supermarket and the workers (often the owners or extended family) know what they are selling and take their products seriously. When were these fish caught? Answered. How was this beef raised? Answered. Where was this pasta produced? Answered. It brings us back to the small stores so quickly falling through the cracks that are truly needed to connect us to a sense of community.

When D and I walked by one of these markets and saw the large handwritten sign, “Soft Shell Crabs are IN,” we knew we needed them. I stopped by a few hours later to pick some up and joked with the husband-wife team who own the place about prepping these babies:

Me: “What do you think is the best way to do these up?”
Husband: “Fry them! These babies are fresh! You know how I know? I made them last night, deeeelicious.”
Wife: “You didn’t make anything! You never make anything. You kidding me?”
Husband: “Well I ate them!”
Wife: “Yeah, you sure ate them, it’s about all you know how to do!”
Husband: “I know how to clean ‘em. I clean ‘em real good. I’ll clean them for you honey, you’ll see.”

Okay, so it was less of me joking and more listening in on an awkward domestic dispute about household chores.

But I had my soft shell crabs (with a free lemon I was told I would “definitely need”), I had my recipe, care of my bickering suppliers, and I had some homemade mayonnaise eagerly awaiting the chance to be turned into tartar sauce. (The mayonnaise is another story of love and loathing.)

In fact, the crabs were so fresh-tasting of the ocean, that after D and I finished off one each for dinner and then leftovers for lunch the following day, I bought four more to make crab tacos the next day! When they are back again I promise to pick more up and saute them in butter and lemon. (Soft shell crabs are blue crabs that have grown, shedding their shells. The waters have to be warm enough for them to grow. Soft shell crabs are now available from Florida to North Carolina. By the end of June we will have more local North East crabs. It’s a long and delicious season!)

My favorite application of the soft shell crab was in the above sandwich. I love the way the crab looks like it is ready to walk out and pinch you. As our spring greens have yet to grace our tables, we bulked up these sandwiches with some creamy avocado slices, a great balance to the crispness of the bread and zesty sauce.

You can ask your fish provider to clean the crabs for you. To clean yourself, simply cut off the eyes at front, remove the lungs from the sides, and the little bit of slime out the rear. Go here to see how The Minimalist does it.

Fried Soft Shell Crab Sandwich
Active time= about 15 minutes. Serving Size= 4 people
For the Crabs:
4 soft shell crabs
1 egg
2-3 dashes Tabasco sauce
2 cups whole wheat flour (or mixture flour and cornmeal)
1 teaspoon Old Bay
vegetable oil to fill 1 inch up the side of the pan

1) Begin warming the oil on medium-high heat.
2) Place the egg and Tabasco in a bowl wide enough to fit a crab, scramble until combined. In another bowl, mix the flour and Old Bay until combined.
3) Once the oil is hot enough (test by placing the end of a chopstick in, if it bubbles, it is ready) dredge each crab in the egg, then transfer to the flour and toss until well coated. Transfer the crabs one at a time to the hot pan. Do not crowd the pan. Fry 2-3 minutes each side until lightly browned, set aside on a paper towel to dry and sprinkle with another dash of Old Bay.

For the Tartar Sauce:
1 cup mayonnaise
juice of 1 lemon
2 teaspoons horseradish sauce
2-3 dashes Tabasco sauce
1 tablespoons dill relish (or chopped pickles)

1) Mix all ingredients to combine.

To Assemble the Sandwich:
Toast your preferred bread until golden (I used sourdough). Smear each slice with a hefty dosage of tartar sauce, splay sliced avocado along the sauce and top with a crab and the second slice of bread. For easy handling, cut the sandwich in half.

Happy New Year!Please take notice (some of you already have) that things have changed around Just Braise. I’ve implemented a new, cleaner design. I believe the new look not only displays my dishes more deliciously, but has a soothing feel that aids in digestion (much more so than the old blue/ orange harshness of last year)!

With every New Year we are asked to make Resolutions. I am sort of sick of the usual “lose weight,” ones that really just prep a person for the beach and allow the weight roller coaster to start up again in the fall. Really, do people still make these sorts resolutions or is it the media onslaught of fat trimming pills to pop come the New Year (has anyone else noticed these all over TV?!) that make us think everyone is making them. While I do think overall lifestyle changes are healthy, they should not be a New Year makeover.

Here are my “Resolutions”: Eat more food that is better for the environment, as well as the people that bring my food to my table (farmers and workers alike). To become better educated on where my food comes from, what is inside (packaging labels as well as gene splice) and the global impact my food choices have on us all. On a broader scale, I hope that more people have access to better food choices, more reasonably priced pesticide-free foods, hear less lies about GMOs, and increase worker rights on farms and in factories. Maybe these are not all resolutions, but simple hopes for the New Year.

As for the picture in this post…

D and I ate a lot of kale back in ‘07. I had never really considered the leafy green before. Like most people, I stuck with what was easy. Simply, more often than not, with what I knew. Sure I ventured out and bought new things here and there (much to D’s initial horror) because finding new delicious foods is always a positive.

But my local groceries don’t really carry much kale, which is unusual– it’s a New York food staple. It is so easy to grow, and more importantly, it is so healthy. Seriously, there is so much good information about kale it’s almost like the new chicken soup (see here, here, and here)! There are even whole blogs waxing poetic on kale (see here and here).

As a member of my local CSA I received a lot of kale. I’m talking every week. Initially, I chopped raw kale super fine and tossed it into salads. Mixed in with all the other vegetables it just became another complex, earthly flavor in those salads. Growing tired of that, I threw every bunch into omelettes. Sure, not very exciting, but now I was cooking the kale– One giant kale omelette after another. As the season tapered on and I realized I grew tired of my kale omelettes, I experimented with other methods.

While some folks in the CSA juiced their kale (adding in peaches, apple juice and more), some made kale pesto, others threw it into soups. I thought these methods, more often than not, covered up that great subtle bitterness I had come to love in the vegetable. So I thought, hey, it looks sort of like lettuce, and voila, the kale sandwich.

This method was so good D and I started making it nightly. We grabbed for extra kale at distribution (no joke) and when we ran out of kale, used other bitter greens (cabbage, broccoli rabe, collards). Still, our favorite green was kale. I added a creamy goat cheese to play with the earthy qualities of kale and come Thanksgiving, I made this sandwich for D’s sisters who ate it up– “that was kale?!” (Note that D’s sisters were subjected to kale salad earlier in the season and were not so into it, though the kale omelette did win hearts).

D and I eat these sandwiches open-faced and find them quite filling. You can cut these sandwiches into bite sized appetizer noshes and serve them at a party. If you have no bread, use crackers. If you don’t like goat cheese, use swiss, a smoky gouda, or whatever you find works best for you.

As for the celeriac chips. Need I remind folks that fried things are delicious? Celeriac, or celery root, is a variety of celery grown as a root vegetable. It sort of looks like a crushed brain when you buy it, but smells and tastes slightly, of celery. Just peel the skin and use it as you like. It’s great raw, as a soup, folded into mashed potatoes, or in this application, fried! Simply slice it thin, fry it 3-4 minutes in hot oil, drain on a towel and sprinkle with salt.

Kale Salami Sandwich
Active time= 10 minutes.
1 tablespoon butter or olive oil
1 bunch kale
2 slices good bread (I like to use sourdough)
2 tablespoons goat cheese
salami

1) Warm the butter or olive oil in a skillet on medium heat. Roll kale like cigars and slice into thin strips. Add kale into the skillet, coat with butter and cover.
2) Toast bread. Spread each with goat cheese.
3) Stir kale, when it has turned a deep green, add on top of cheese. Add a few slices of salami.

I realize this salad sounds all too simple. It is a variation of the classic Greek Salad that has become all too common in our restaurant going (or home) lives. Just below the “house salad” we now often find the “Greek salad.”

The downfall I find with the Greek salad is it leaves me wanting more. The cucumbers fail to fill me and there are only so many tomatoes I can eat before the acid hits my stomach and turns me the wrong way. I realize many folks have their own versions of this clasic salad, but this is my simple take on it (rather, one of many simple takes on it).

I made this a few weeks ago when I was alone. D often objects to eating salad as a mid-day meal, complaining the energy doesn’t last. I was so captivated by this salad I decided to try it out on D the following day. I knew he would love it, but would it fill him for a day running around?
The result… You bet so. Not only was D satiated until dinner, he even made several exclamations about the flavor combinations (which are really nothing so unique).

The trick is in the bread. Homemade croutons are a must. For this salad I used old sourdough bread cut into “fingers,” brushed with olive oil, sprinkled with sea salt and pepper and toasted until golden. They are great to pick up and munch on between bites, or used to scoop up leftover cheese and olive oil. They work in any salad and act as a tasty filler.

This salad might sadly be the last viewing of fresh local tomatoes. If you hurry, your local market might still have some end-of-season tomatoes left, but they are fading fast.

Greek Adaptation Salad
Serving Size= 2 persons. Prep time= 10 min. Cook time=3 minutes.
2 slices old sourdough bread
2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 cup green beans, picked and cut into 2 inch pieces
1 red bell pepper, cut into 1 inch pieces
1 ripe tomato, sliced into 8 wedges
1/4 cup crumbled feta
Kalamata olives
Salt/ Pepper
Parsley

1) Brush sourdough with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Slice into 1 inch thick strips and toast until golden.
2) Blanch green beans in boiling water, 30 second to 1 minute, until darkened. Dredge in ice water.
3) Gently toss green beans with sliced tomato, chopped red pepper, crumbled feta, 1-2 tablespoons olive oil and salt and pepper.
4) Sprinkle with parsley and top with Kalamata olives. Arrange croutons around salad or sprinkled over top.
NOTE: Want to make this even more of a meal? Add 1 can washed and drained butter beans!

D and I have received, dare I say, too many tomatoes from our local CSA (Community Supported Agriculture). Don’t get me wrong, they are probably the best tomatoes I have ever had. And no joke, every time one is sliced into D makes some comment about how amazing they are– like I didn’t hear it the first 30 tomatoes we sliced into the deep sweet skins. They really are amazing, but it’s too much for two people to eat.

The first week was fabulous. 10 tomatoes, all over 2 pounds. I gave one to my father who made some comment about the “pumpkin” I had given him a few days later. I brought a batch of gazpacho over to a party of 12 people (where everyone made some comment about how sweet it was), but 2 pound tomatoes go pretty far and I was still left with 7 tomatoes (that’s 14 pounds!). But we trucked on through leaving only 2 tomatoes over for the next week…

…When we received another 8, plus a pint of cherry tomatoes. That brought our tomatoes back to 10. Tomato salads galore: tomato with basil, tomato with mozzerella and basil, tomato with riccata, fresh tomato sauce, pizza with thinly sliced tomato, guacomole, sandwiches, tomato fritattas. We still had 1 left when we received our next shipment…

7 more plus 2 quarts of cherry tomatoes (total now 8 plus 2 quarts). I gave 2 to my brother’s girlfriend. She was going on and on about how horrible tomatoes were in New York City. Well, you’re not buying from the greenmarket, huh? She told me she missed the tomatoes her parents grew in Saint Louis. I gave her 2 tomatoes. She said she hadn’t smelled anything so good since her childhood.

It’s amazing an amazing feeling when you can give a gift so simple like tomatoes and have people calling you for days telling you how fabulous they were. We must really be neglected in New York City.

The dish above celebrates the sweet powerhouse of this summer’s tomatoes. I was looking for a dish to use those slightly past due tomatoes. You know the ones, a little too soft to eat, but you don’t want to throw them out. It was a hit, and took minutes, perfect for these days that are fading fast (with plenty of heat). I think of this dish as a Middle Eastern-Italian-South American fusion, but all summer.

Note: Quinoa (keen-wa) is a grain that is high in protein (surprise) and of course, fiber. It is originally from South America. It’s flavor is close to couscous, but a little wheatier in flavor (though it is gluten-free). It comes in light brown and red.

Quinoa w/ Summer Vegetables
Serving Size= 2. Active Time= 5 minutes. Inactive Time= 10 min.
1 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
4 shallots, skinned and quartered
1 ear corn, sliced from stalk
1 cup quinoa
1/4 cup fresh basil, tightly packed and loosely chopped
olive oil
Parmesan cheese to taste
salt/ pepper to taste

1) Bring a sauce pot to a boil. Cook quinoa according to package directions (usually 2 parts water, 1 part grain). Quinoa takes about 10 minutes to cook. (While water is coming to a boil prepare veggies.)
2) Turn on oven’s broiler. In an oven safe pan, put tomatoes, corn and shallots. Toss with 2 tablespoons olive oil, salt and pepper. Place under broiler for about 10 min. Check after 5 minutes, stir. Vegetables should be blackened once done.
3) Once done, mix vegetables with quinoa. Stir in basil and top with Parmesan.

Note: Add chicken or beef to this dish to make it a main course! This dish is great warm or cold.

It’s more like falafel is making me crazy! But how can you resist the freshness of flavors in Middle Eastern cuisine?

I came to love and loathe Middle Eastern foods in high school when I took a three week tour of Israel with my youth group. There were many days eating on Kibbutz with comments like, “are you kidding?! Cucumber, tomatoes and hummus again?!” But despite all the hummus consumed on that trip, I still cannot forget the hummus I had at the main marketplace in Jerusalem. Sweet, nutty and full of paprika, to this day I search to perfect my own recipe to match this memory.

I found falafel as an undergrad. It was fast food that didn’t seem so unhealthy and best of all, it was cheap. I could often be found between classes grabbing a falafel, standing just outside the small storefront nibbling away with tahini coating my lips and dripping on the sidewalk down below. I took friends visiting from out of town to the little shop and I even took D on our first date for a late night snack. But I have never tried making it myself.

Walking through the grocery I often spot and am tempted to pick up a box of falafel mix. As much as I love falafel, I cannot get myself to purchase the boxed mix. Yes, there are chickpeas in there, but get down the list and sure enough those hard-to-pronounce unknowns appear. I can’t make myself believe that off in the Middle East, or even my Lebanese or Egyptian friends here in the U.S., folks are whipping up boxed falafel. Where do these boxes come from?

To my surprise and horror, my own cookbooks I checked for reference suggested using boxed falafel mix. Wait, really? A cookbook calls for a box?! Truth be told, I don’t own a Middle Eastern cookbook (since I usually just reference friends and their parents for recipes). I took to the internet and researched away. Recipes I found seemed fairly close to hummus recipes before frying. I had some hummus a few days old in the fridge so I figured this would make good falafel– dry enough to form balls and fry. I also thought that my desire to use hummus, no longer desirable for snacking, would make sense historically. (Instead of throwing away old hummus, why not deep fry it?)

So I chopped some parsley, folded it into the hummus, formed golf ball sized nuggets and D threw them into a pan of hot oil. They fell apart. When I say fall apart I don’t mean the little balls broke apart and were still okay to eat. I mean the balls fell apart, totally crumbling into nothingness. D had to fish them out with a sieve the added comment, “Wow, we haven’t failed like this in a while.”

And when he says that he really means a long time. I cannot recall a time we made something so horribly inedible we had to throw it away. Sure, maybe it didn’t look (or fully taste) great, but one of us (me) usually not wanting to waste food, would suffer through eating it. What we had here was fried powder that was impossible to eat and had to enter the garbage.

We both took to the internet to find recipes and compare our separate results. The one major difference in falafel to hummus is that no liquids are added. When D and I make hummus we often add olive oil and yogurt to create a creamy result (that keeps smooth for days). The more falafel recipes we found, the greater the number that excluded these ingredients, as well as tahini. This kept the batter as dry as possible. (Which is why I thought our 3 day old hummus (with no yogurt), nice and dry, would work perfectly.)

We combined our favorite recipes and went in for Round Two. We stuck one in to test. Same result. The pictures on the internet lied. These little nuggets also fell apart as well. No golden balls of falafel came to our plates.

Back on the internet D began typing in “Falafel falls apart.” To his surprise, he didn’t even get to the first “l” of “falls” when Google auto-filled his results and he found multiple comments from ornery eaters attempting to make falafel.

Who knew these little buggers could be so difficult?

We did find the most common suggestions for falafel that falls apart is 1) Refrigerate for a few hours (we were hungry now) or 2) Add flour.

Back to our falafel balls, minus one brave comrade, I threw them back into the bowl and added almost 1/4 cup flour. Mixed it up, formed balls, flattened slightly (so oil would cover them completely) and coated the discs lightly with a more flour. I quickly told D it was not too late. We could just eat this dry hummus-like batter on our Barbari bread and it would be just fine. We threw a tester in again. Finally!

We topped stuffed the falafel into our Barbari bread (a flat bread originally from Iran that is an arms length long. Once a portion is torn off, it can easily be stuffed), added a yogurt and herb dressing, fresh tomatoes and topped it with some lip smacking sticky tahini. The best part of this falafel is that they remain crispy on the outside, but are soft and creamy inside.

Falafel
Prep time (getting it right the first time)= 12 minutes. Cook time= 4 minutes.
1- 15 oz can chickpeas (garbanzo beans), washed and drained
1/4 cup loosely chopped parsley
2 cloves garlic
1/2 teaspoon cumin powder
1/2 teaspoon coriander powder
1/2 teaspoon paprika
2 tablespoons red onion
1/4 cup flour (set aside 2 tablespoons in a small bowl for coating finished falafel balls)
salt/ pepper to taste
vegetable oil

1) Begin heating vegetable oil on high heat in a deep sauce pan (oil should come about 1 inch up the side of the pan).
2) Place remaining ingredients (minus 2 tablespoons of flour) into a food processor or blender. Process until fairly even consistency is reached, leaving some larger chickpea chunks, if desired.
3) Form golf ball sized balls of batter and flatten slightly. Coat lightly in remaining flour.
4) Add falafel discs to oil when hot and fry about 4 minutes, until golden on all sides. Serve warm served wrapped in pita or other flat bread.

And the yogurt-herb sauce we topped it with (along with tahini and tomatoes):
3 tablespoons yogurt
2 tablespoons fresh dill, chopped
2 tablespoons fresh parsley, chopped
juice of 1/2 a lemon
pinch of salt
Mix until combined.

I wait all winter for fresh fruit. Those imports that come from Chile, Mexico, Australia and other parts of the globe simply do not taste as good as the local stuff. Part of it is because fruits and vegetables bought in the grocery travel on average two weeks and 1,500 miles to reach your plate. This means they are picked well before ripe and sprayed with ethylene gas to appear ripe when they reach the markets, though are a far cry from tasting ripe. The biggest victim of this method is probably the tomato.

Local food obviously travels less to reach you making it more environmentally friendly. It also keeps the consumer in touch with the seasons. Why don’t apples taste as good in July? Where does all the acorn squash go in May? If food must travel less to reach its destination it will (hopefully) be picked closer to ripeness– or when fully ripe. So local food tastes better. To find out more about local food go here.

If you purchase from farm stands or greenmarkets even better: you have an opportunity to talk with the person who actually produced your food. This allows you to find out their farming methods and philosophy. Often times, this produce can be found low-spray or organic. To find out more about organic food go here.

The best food I have ever eaten has been the stuff I picked myself. A peach direct from the tree, arugula from my garden buckets and apples in an orchard.

The other weekend D and I went strawberry picking. I cannot remember the last time I picked strawberries but it was definitely a time when I was closer to Earth. Let’s just say a 4 inch plant is not a small distance from 5ft 11in me. 3 hours of squats will do more to your thighs than you think, especially when you rely on your legs to carry you around the city and up and down the subway stairs.

Picking fruits and vegetables connects me to more than the Earth. It makes me aware of how difficult not just farming, but especially harvesting is. Spend a few hours in 100 degree heat breaking corn from the stalks and you will see what I mean.

As D and I at times crawled around the field we popped a few of those sun-ripe and ultra sweet berries for a tasting. One taste was all we needed to let greed take over. 4 quarts, 3 hours and a belly full of berries later we were on our way to a vineyard for a little relaxation before the drive home.

The results? One quart went to my father and the other 3 were broken into 2 piles: “Eat Now” and “Savor a Bit.” A few days later both Eat Now Savor a Bot were resorted, sliced and transferred into a third “Use Me” pile. Use Me became the items pictured below: Strawberry Lemon-Limeade, Strawberry Scones and Strawberry Ice Cream.

Strawberry Lemon-Limeade
Makes about 1.5 quarts. Active time= 20 minutes
Juice of 4 lemons
Juice of 3 limes
1 cup strawberries, loosely chopped
Simple Syrup to taste

1) Make simple syrup: Place 1 cup sugar and 1 cup water in a pan over medium-high heat. Let simmer for 10 minutes.
2) While simple syrup is simmering, juice lemons and limes. Place the lemon juice, lime juice and strawberries in a 2 quart container. Fill container with water about 3/4 full.
3) Using a hand held blender (or regular blender) puree ingredients until a desired consistency is reached (leave some strawberries more solid if desired).
4) Add about half the simple syrup, taste, add more if desired. Add simple syrup until desired sweetness is reached.

More recipes soon…

D and I recently had some friends over for an intimate feast. We prepared many items we had never attempted before, something I often shy away from when we have guests– there is nothing worse than messing up something you have never attempted before. But cooking, like any passion, is all about trial and error and you’ll never get better without an attempt. All in all, the 5 hours spread ended deliciously well, mishaps included.

All vegetables, and most fruits, were brought to us by our local Community Supported Agriculture program. Each week I am thankful that we have invested in our farm and I proudly brag about “my farmers” who brought me my organic vegetables– just picked yesterday!

This weekend we celebrated the spring bounty.

The evening began calmly as pictured above. I started prepping items 1 week in advance: spanakopita (spinach from “my farm” with local sheep feta), rhubarb syrup (rhubarb from last week’s CSA drop boiled down with water and sugar) and a rhubarb tart (crust prepared and frozen and rhubarb chopped and frozen). The rest was finalized and started the night before arrival…

We welcomed guests C and M with choice of champagne or a strawberry rhubarb “martini.” I like to call drinks served in martini glasses and made with vodka “martinis,” as do most bars and restaurants. I suppose because it makes the drink sound more sophisticated. D is angered by this and claims it is a merely a mixed cocktail if it has no vermouth. Our Strawberry Rhubarb “Martinis” contained rhubarb syrup, vodka, mashed fresh strawberries and were topped with champagne. We also eventually threw some mint in there.

Next was the spanakopita. I received pounds of spinach, amongst other greens last week. S

o much I feared we could not eat it, but didn’t want it going to waste. I could not bare to simply freeze the spinach so bought some filo and feta, steamed and chopped the spinach, added nutmeg, crumbled feta, wrapped in filo and froze. Laborious to wrap individually, yes (a spanakopita pie would have been easier), but well worth it.

An assemble-one’s-own course followed next. I like the idea of the guest doing some work, it allows them to understand flavor combinations you use a little more and how they work together. If they don’t cook, it also makes them feel like they are creating something. You can see the beginnings of this course spread out above: Buttered and toasted crostinis, fig spread, goat cheese and topped with prosciutto.

The fig spread is a treasured find of mine and D’s. We uncovered it in the Middle Eastern section of one of our local markets– the one I can easily spend hours walking down the aisles because they have floor to ceiling goodies from all over the world. This spread hails from Lebanon and has three simple flavors: fig, sesame, anise. It is a fantastic addition to sandwiches, crostinis

and is really a power secret ingredient. It would be simple to make, but at$2 for an 8oz container with such a pure ingredient mixture, why bother? The prosciutto was from a local Italian deli.

We entered the main of our meal. The moment D said C and M would be over for dinner I proclaimed rabbit would be the headliner. I held fast through D’s skeptism. My thought: no matter what produce we would receive from our CSA, rabbit would be a perfect compliment. D still thought it was slightly disturbing to serve “rabbit salad,” so we broke the salad into more of a side.

We wanted the rabbit sweet to compliment the warming weather– a more savory base is fitting for fall and winter. I found a marinade based in orange juice, honey and cayenne which seemed perfect for this. I wanted to incorporate nectarines into the dish and thought to make a nectarine mousse. Unfortunately, as witnessed in the picture above, the mousse never set properly (recipe now in the works). It ended more a thick sauce that we poured over the rabbit and topped it all with crumbled bacon. The salad, red bib lettuce, sugar snap peas and radish were provided by our CSA.

Gluttony followed.

My newest acquisition is an ice cream attachment for my Kitchen Aid. I’ve been itching for an ice cream maker for a few years now and with a few Am Ex gift certificates in hand, it was a real steal. I went all out and made two treats for this meal. The first was a lemon-lime-ginger sorbet. This was a great sweet-tart intermission though I would add a little more ginger next time.

This was followed by D’s conquest: foie gras.

Let’s just put out that I know both sides of the foie gras debate before we get all the comments coming in. I think Gastronomica Magazine has a great article about it in their Winter 2007 issue. Let’s just say I can rarely afford it so rarely eat it. (But it is delicious.)

At this point my local butcher thinks I am crazy. Each day I go in I discuss and request more from them: free range veal, grass-fed beef, truffle butter, truffles, and this weekend, I asked if they would put rabbits and foie gras aside for me. They know me by site now and if I ask for a simple steak they ask if something is the matter– just steak?

We couldn’t afford the entire “foie” so we split if with one of the butchers who was happy to take home the other half. I asked for his discount, but he denied. Note to self: get in with butchers until discount is granted. D took care of the prep, slicing it in thirds, de-veining, salt, pepper nutmeg, layer, port, cognac, repeat. For whatever reason our most trusted cookbook failed us for the first time when it failed to mention that the foie must sit for a few good hours post-cooking to re-set– many recipes suggest 1-3 days. While we knew some sitting would be necessary, the foie was a little loose when served, still delicious (and is a great topping on salad for a luxurious dinner another night).

Lemon-lime-ginger sorbet repeat and then the finale.

I found a rhubarb streusel tart recipe on epicurious that I knew would be perfect. Not only did we receive rhubarb from our CSA the previous week, D is a big fan of anything with streusel in the name. How can you not love butter and brown sugar? Instead of mixing almonds into the streusel as called for I used the handy new ice cream maker and created my own almond ice cream.

This I believed was my true triumph. Something D couldn’t imagine tasting good– “almond ice cream just does not sound good,” yet he keeps coming back for more and requesting me to churn out new flavors– dare I attempt arugula custard? Not just yet… a cognac creation is next.

MENU:
Rhubarb Spritzer
Spanakopita
Fig-Goat Cheese-Procuitto Crostini
Roast Rabbit w/ Spring Greens & Nectarine Mousse
Lemon-Lime-Ginger Sorbet
Foie Gras
Lemon-Lime-Ginger Sorbet
Rhubarb Streusel Tart w/ Almond Ice Cream

Pictured above is a little piece of a hopefully sweet weekend (now if I win my office Oscar pool jackpot…).

Like most people, I presume, weekends are the time for me when some good cooking/baking can get under the belt. I have the leisure to wander the fruit/ veggie stands, fight for a spot at the butcher and joke with the fish monger about freshness. If it’s really cold outside a soup will be made and stored away for the week to come. If it’s mild enough to take my time shopping (no car), I have the opportunity to really let my mind wander, without worrying about exposed fingers falling off from the cold.

It is some of the worst days though, when the last thing I desire is to step outside. Not even my thick flannel pants I wear camping in the fall or my warmest sweater and thick mittens can convince me into the icy voyage. It is these days where the cookbook is a dear friend and a minimalist “whatever’s in the cabinet” recipe comes to the rescue.

It was on one of these bitter days that I picked up one of my new cookbooks and gave it a go.

I recently received a copy of The Cook’s Book from the publisher for review. An initial flip through offers some amazing color photos, many step-by-step, of recipes. It’s a great overall technique book that is easy to follow for a more experienced chef (I would not recommend it to a beginner). Much of what is inside is basics, how to’s and general tips and tricks of the trade—like how many minutes is a medium rare steak again? How do you fillet that fish? Yet many of the recipes can get very challenging, be it time consuming, a difficult step here or there, or a hard-to-find ingredient. (A more involved review in the weeks to come.)

That being said, my initial plunge into this book’s recipes have been extremely rewarding with many more to come. The first challenge was honey-lime truffles. These truffles were an absolute surprise– who knew I could make such delicious truffles? They were silken and luxurious, sweet and sour and a true Valentine treat.

The above pictured specimen was the next step with this book. I was looking more for a bread, but as I said, it was cold outside. I had to stick with what I had in the cabinets. The dates were a recent birthday gift, I was good to go.

D is a huge fan of cinnamon rolls. Mind you, not the ones that drip with a sugary white glaze, but straight up cinnamon rolls, raisins optional. They are the ones where the deep twisted chasms are filled with gooey spice and the bread is dense, yet sponge-like in a perfect marriage. In fact, D considers me quite the curmudgeon because I refuse to let him have one every day. If I delight him with a purchase there is usually a portion of a follow up conversation that goes something like: “you never let me have the things that I love,” while cinnamon-sugar oozes between his fingers and sticks to his beard he’ll claim “I’m just saving some for later,” instead of wiping himself clean. I am a cruel person.

When I saw this recipe for cinnamon date bread I knew it was the perfect merge of D’s love (cinnamon rolls), ingredients (all on hand in the cabinet) and my favorite (the use of liquor in cooking). The perfect breakfast. While my final version is not nearly as clean looking as the version pictured in The Cook’s Book, I can only assume that it is far better in sweet gooey purity. Below is the recipe as it appears in the book.

CINNAMON & DATE COFFEE CAKE
Serving Size= 1 bread; 4 people. Active time= about 30 minutes. Cook time= 30 minutes.
Makes 1 Bread
* 2-½ tablespoon unsalted butter, softened, plus extra for the mold
* 1-2/3 cups all purpose flour
* 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
* 2 teaspoons baking powder
* 1 extra large egg
* 5 tablespoons milk
For layering the dough
* 6 tablespoons brown sugar
* ½ heaped cup roughly chopped dates
* 3-½ tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
* 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
* 1-½ tablespoons dark rum [brandy works well too]

1) Preheat oven to 400F. Thickly butter an 8-½ in ring mold that is 2 in deep, or a cake pan of the same diameter. Line the bottom of the mold or pan with parchment paper.
2) Sift the flour, sugar, and baking powder into a bowl. Rub in the butter using your fingertips. Whisk the eggs with the milk in a cup until well combined, then stir this into the dry ingredients in the bowl. Work the mixture together well with your hands until you have an evenly mixed, soft dough. Scrape the dough out onto a floured work surface and lightly knead it for 10-15 seconds.
3) Mix together the brown sugar, dates butter and cinnamon and rum in a small bowl; keep to one side. Roll out the dough to a rectangle that is roughly ¼ in thick, 14 in long and 8 in wide.
4) Spread the date mixture evenly over the surface of the dough, then roll it up tightly like a jelly roll. With a sharp knife, cut the rolled dough in half lengthwise.
5) Twist the two pieces together, keeping the cut surfaces facing up, then curl into the mold. Bake in the middle of the oven for about 30 minutes. Let the coffee cake cool in the mold for 5 minutes, then unmold onto a wire rack. This is best served still warm.