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.

Dare I say I’ve gone strawberry crazy?

I am quite happy to inform folks that I have bushels of strawberries in my possession. I excitedly contemplated all the delicious things to make: wine, jam, ice cream, scones, lemonade… As I thought, I realized I was quickly eating through my stash. So sweet in their natural state, I started thinking, Applying them to a dish would be sacrilegious! (They do much better in my belly unadulterated.)

The more sensible part of me methodically began pulling stems and lining the berries on a baking sheet to freeze, then bag for a future use (as there was no way all could be eaten before spoiling). As I lined a cookie sheet with strawberries I realized how nicely uniform so many of them were. In fact, they appeared to be a perfect little army dressed for strawberry battle in some distant fruit land– perhaps protecting Strawberry Shortcake (the cartoon or the dessert)? Each berry was outfitted with a gnome-like cap. (How adorable.)

As I admired my infantry, the Giant of Terror in the Land of Berries approached. Oooo, strawberries! D exclaimed as his colossal hand reached into my helpless army patch and snatched up soldiers. One after another he ate my freshly stemmed friends. “Stop eating my strawberry army!”

“Uhhhh… Your what?”

“Nothing… They’re just my strawberry army. You can’t eat them, eat these.” I shoved over the random piling of discarded strawberries sprawled on the counter, not perfect enough to join my forces.

So now sits a bag of berries marked “not for giants” awaiting recipes in the freezer. If I can rein myself in they will be saved for a blistery day in late December. While I ponder future berry times I’ll whip up an occasional strawberry smoothie: 2 parts frozen berries, 1 part heavy cream. It is the purest and sweetest milk shake I ever had.

Strawberry Smoothie
Serves 2
1.5 cups fresh frozen strawberries
3/4 cup heavy cream (or whole milk)

Method: Place ll ingredients in a blender and blitz until smooth. Add more heavy cream to thin out if necessary.

If you can still find some fresh berries this late in the season a favorite application was in salad. You may add or subtract from any of these ingredients.

Strawberry Salad
Serves 4-6
1 head romaine, or similar crisp lettuce, washed and separated
1 handful arugula, washed
1 bulb kohlrabi*, sliced into matchstick size cuttings
1 bunch fresh herbs (thyme, basil, parsley work well), loosely chopped
1 cup sugar snap peas, washed and stemmed
4 ounces goat cheese or fresh ricotta, crumbled
1/2 cup strawberries, sliced
1/4 cup walnuts, chopped
mustard vinaigrette (recipe follows)

Method: Toss all prepped ingredients and serve with dressing on the side.
*Kohlrabi is an odd looking vegetable, but worth a try (it’s very high in vitamin C). The flavor is similar to cabbage, but crossed with the crispness of a perfect apple. It is a great addition raw to coleslaw or salad. Just cut off the stalk and slice (I don’t even peel mine).

Mustard Vinaigrette
This dressing will keep so make enough and store in a small glass container. Season to preferred acidic taste.
1 part whole grain mustard (Dijon makes an excellent one)
1 part lemon juice
1 part olive oil
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon cumin

Method: Add all ingredients to a jar and shake just before applying to salad. (This dressing is great over fish like halibut or salmon.)

NOTE: This strawberry salad recipe was entered into Healthy Cooking’s recipe event, because hey, what’s more healthy than fresh ingredients? No substitutes needed!