Found at the green market . . .

an eggplant


that in a day or two
will be
ratatouille.



But I hate to
cut it up.

New Greens

I'd never heard of minutina till I saw it at the
Two Guys from Woodbridge's stand at the Union Square greenmarket on a recent Saturday. With long, feathery leaves emerging from fat rootballs, it was irresistible. I bought a bunch and took it home.

Meanwhile, at another stand, I'd bought, also for the first time, a bunch of chickweed. After being told it was usually used in salads, I'd asked about whether it could be a substitute a kale or spinach in a stew. "Certainly," replied the boss of the stand.

Now, with a giant bunch of minutina in my bag, I figured I might as well use both greens when I made caldo verde that night.

But first I tasted both greens--found them mild and wild, with just a bit of tang, crunchy, and grassy.



Above: minutina, which weighed more than a pound, including the rootball. Below: chickweed, which weighed a bit less.



After the beans, chorizo, and onions had cooked a while, I added about a third of the chickweed (below), and stirred it in.



Next, I broke off about a third of the minutina leaves and tore them into thirds, then added them to the soup. (below).





Once I'd stirred in the minutina (above), it looked as if the soup might like more greens, so I added first more chickweed (below):



And then more minutina, which looked to me like Spanish moss, when I lifted a ladle to fill my bowl.




As it turns out, this wasn't my first taste of minutina. A couple of years ago, I'd bought a smaller bunch from a different vendor at the green market, who didn't know its name but said it tasted like spinach. I sauteed it in olive oil and garlic and folded it into an omelet (see my earlier post: Mystery Green).

Mystery green

What is it?
I still don't know.
The folks I bought it from at the greenmarket last month didn't know--though if I remember right, they compared the flavor to spinach--and it isn't to be found in any of my cookbooks.



It resembles puntarelle, but the stalks are thinner and the flavor much more delicate.





I sauteed the greens with olive oil and garlic, added a little cheese, and filled an omelet with them. They were a little chewy but delicious.

Eating Sunshine (or something else to do with basil)

After weathering the winter on my windowsill in fine fashion, growing from little more than a sprig in a miniature plastic pot to a leafy bush, which has twice produced enough pesto for a pound of pasta, my basil plant is on its last, spindly legs.

I don't get it--shouldn't it be thriving, now that it's summer and the west-facing picture window in which it sits is filled with light much of the afternoon?

Jim suggests that the plant may have gotten more out of the lower winter sun than the higher summer rays, but I'm not persuaded.

Still, there are leaves left, and some little ones coming on.

And many days, I pick a few, tear them, and add them to yogurt and a cut-up banana--something I first tried in February, when it felt like eating sunshine.

It still does.

Tis the season for dragon fruit and rambutan. . .

. . . and longan and papaya and all sorts of other tropical fruits in Chinatown.

Yesterday, biking back from the Brooklyn Bridge, I stopped there, in quest of mangos, bok choy, and snow peas.

Instead I fell for the dragon fruit (the big one in the photo) and rambutan (the little one)--neither of which I'd tasted.

They're so lovely, I'm still waiting to taste them.

Farm Stand at School

When I first discovered PS 11's Wednesday morning farm stand last year, it was nominally open 8 till noon, and I could drop by at 11 and still find terrific fruits and vegetables at great prices.

But word has spread, and now most stuff is gone by 10--some things sell out earlier.

Half the fun of shopping at the stand is being served by 3rd graders, watching them absorbing lessons in customer service along with arithmetic. The kids also learn about their wares--from the certified organic Stoneledge farm in the Catskills--how they're grown and how to cook them.

The stand operates from early June through late September, and this year, the kids have been there every week I've gone, even during vacation.

What I got this week: a bunch of scrumptious summer spinach ($1.50), 3 peaches($1), a cucumber (50 cents), and 2 peppers on their way to red ($1). I still had a patty pan squash from last week, when I bought other summer squash, eggplant, tomatoes, and a bunch of young leeks.

You'll find the stand in front of the school, at 320 W. 21st St. I understand the chefs show up by 8:00.

For further information about the stand, the farm, and recipes, check out:

http://ps11farmmkt.wordpress.com

and

http://www.stoneledgefarmny.com

Farm Dinner in NYC

Who'd have guessed that the longest continuously farmed site in New York State is in New York City?

Dating to 1697, its 47 acres now make up the Queens County Farm Museum, which I only found out about one Friday when I bought some scrumptious veggies at their stand at the Union Square greenmarket.

I'm eager to visit the farm itself, but unfortunately won't make their Summer Feast in the Field--that's happening tomorrow, August 11, at 7:00 pm.

Those lucky folks who do will first tour the farm and then dine on farm produce, mostly gathered that day. The chef is Tamara Reynolds, who hosts the Sunday Night Dinner in Astoria and co-wrote Forking Fantastic! Put the Party back in Dinner Party.

Here's her menu:

Kale and Cucumber Salad
***
Eggplant, Summer Squash, and Lentils with Pomegranate Molasses
***
Queens Farm Free-Range Chicken bathed in Adobo, wrapped in banana leaves and slow-roasted "Robert Rodriguez Style"
served with
Salt-boiled Potatoes
Collards in Spicy Potlikker with Smoked Pork
Panzanella, made with Heirloom Tomatoes
Turkish Beans, slow-cooked in Olive Oil and Garlic
***
Stone Fruit in Queens Farm Honey and Rum with Basil Whipped Cream

The dinner is BYOB and costs $75. As of today, tickets are still available.

Queens County Farm Museum
73-50 Little Neck Parkway
Floral Park, New York 11004-1129
(718) 347-3276

http://www.queensfarm.org/index.html

Perfect for a 100 degree day. . .

They offered only slivers of shade at that hour, but Jim and I hugged the walls on the west side of 9th Avenue as we made our way to Chelsea Market. Bathed with sweat by the time we got there, we were ready for something super cold . . . and we found it: shaved ice from people's pops. the ice shaved from a huge block, and flavored with fruit syrups.

We chose a combination of the two special flavors of the day--rhubarb and sour cherry. The cherry dominated, but both were tasty. At $2.50 a cup, I sense a habit forming . . .

http://peoplespops.com

The last slice

To the salon I attended on Sunday, one of the other guests brought a savory wonder: a kind of Spanish torta--a potato-and-onion pie--which he'd enriched with pesto and chanterelles. (Artichokes, too? I'm wondering now.)

The dish was rich, so the slices he'd cut were appropriately small, making enough to go around. After everyone had had a shot at them, I went back for seconds.

On the way out an hour later, I noticed, amazingly, one last piece in the pan. Tempting though it was, I resisted, thinking it should go to our host, Jerome, or to its creator, or to a remaining guest, if there was one, who'd had only one slice.

Or did it languish and get tossed. . . ?

I sure hope not!

Julie and Julia!

We all thought it was terrific--and Linda had seen it once already, on Friday afternoon with her daughter, and a much older crowd than ours.

"Funny," she said, "yesterday they didn't laugh, but they clapped more."

She saw it yet again a day or two later, with another friend--and thinks that won't be the last time.

The movie so delighted and inspired me that I decided to have some people over for dinner on Tuesday and cook some things (well, at least one thing) from The Book--a far cry from Julie's accomplishment but a signicant commitment from a rough-and-ready, down-and-dirty cook like me.

The things ended up being vichysoisse (which I'd never made before), ratatouille, and roast chicken. Despite my deficiencies in technique and deviations from the recipes (not peeling the potatoes, not degreasing or straining the sauce for the chicken, etc.), they turned out fine.

I wonder if all over the country, people who've seen The Movie are making such tribute dinners. . . .

"They should have had that book for sale in the theater lobby," Linda said. "Bet they could have sold a lot."

"But everybody who goes already has it," Jim said.

Recycling at the Park Slope Food Coop, Part III: Reward

"So you spent four dollars and two hours to do that," said Jim after I told him about my recycling adventure. Actually, it was more like slightly under four-fifty and four hours.

But I got something out of it, and not just the satisfaction of the recycling itself. I used the trip as an artist's date in Brooklyn--and a shopping opp.

My first thought was to explore some thrift stores and vintage shops, and I'd taken down a few names and addresses before embarking on my journey.

I only made it to one: Hooti Couture, 321 Flatbush at 7th Avenue, just north of the coop. I cooled off there, scanned the colorful wares, and chatted with the charming proprietor, but didn't buy anything.

Walking up Flatbush, I ventured into the New York Chess & Game Shop. It occurred to me that they might have an innovative board game I'd read about recently, which is notable for rewarding collaborative activities rather than cutthroat competition. Unfortunately I didn't remember the name. But from my vague description, they recognized The Settlers of Catan--sold out but on order.

At the triangle formed by Flatbush, Atlantic, and Pacific, I found a little community garden, densely planted, filled with delicate floral perfumes.

I had in mind to find some Middle-Eastern treats on Atlantic Avenue, but instead I found Blue Marble, and rewarded myself with a coffee and ginger ice cream cone. Only on the way out, did I learn that they use biodegradable utensils and cups for their organic ice cream.

Finally, I ended up at Trader Joe's on Atlantic Avenue, more spacious and far less crowded than the one on Union Square, and returned home laden with artichokes, coffee, cookies, humus, etc., etc.

At home, I put the big empty bag in which I'd toted my recyclables back on the chair in the kitchen, and began filling it up again.

newyorkchessandgameshop.com

bluemarbleicecream.com

foodcoop.com

Salt and Pepper Fruit Heads

Turns out that the peach-headed guitar-playing girl I'd been using for salt for a few years was actually the pepper shaker--it says so right on her skirt: P. But salt flowed freely from her two large holes.

Since I grind my pepper instead of shaking and had lost the cork that closed her companion, the pear-headed reed-playing salt girl, I must have decided a while back to switch their roles--or maybe had them switched all along.

A few weeks ago, the peach head broke right off in the hands of a child who wasn't even trying to dismember Ms. P. Obviously it wasn't the first time--there were traces of dried glue along her throat. I vaguely remember applying the stuff myself.

So I switched the salt and the cork back to the official salt girl, though not noticing till today the S on her skirt that so proclaimed her. She has three holes, each smaller than Ms. P's two, and two of them are blocked, probably with years of dried salt. So the flow she allows is much slower than Ms. P's.

Now I'm wondering if a painter at the Napco factor way back when made a mistake and reversed the functions of the fruit heads, or if the hole-driller made the pepper holes too big.

Anyway, if you have a small-holed pepper shaker around, try using it for salt if, like me, you prefer pinchs to gobs.

Dinners at the Farm

Last summer my friend Susanne regaled me with stories of cooking, once in the middle of a downpour, at dinners held on Connecticut farms over the summer. This summer I'm hoping to get to one.

The dinners, served, rain or shine, at candlelit tables under tents, feature farm-grown produce and include a tour of the host farm. They benefit several organizations supporting farmers and agricultural in the state. For six or more course, a cocktail and hors d'oeuvres, wine, and service, the $150 cost seems a relative bargain.

Dates for this year's Dinners at the Farm are July 16, 17, 18, August 13, 14, 15, 27, 28, 29, and September 10, 11, and 12.

For information, check out

http://dinnersatthefarm.com/Dinners_at_the_Farm/Home.html

Messing with a Classic, Part I

I grew up eating Hellman's mayonnaise in or on many things--it was my family's dressing of choice for artichokes and asparagus. Recently Jim bought a jar of Hellman's that boasted olive oil as an ingredient. Oh, goody, I thought--it'll be even better. Boy, was I wrong!

Unfortunately, besides olive oil, this new Hellman's contains, of all things, sugar. Sugar in mayonnaise??? Sure, if you like it in scrambled eggs or you're a fan of Miracle Whip.

I'm now wondering whether the original Hellman's exists anymore. Luckily the Trader Joe's organic mayonnaise I bought recently is a good subsitute. No olive oil, but no sugar either. I'm about to eat some on broccoli.

How to gain weight on a 50 mile bike ride

Actually, I can't prove I did--don't have a scale and didn't weigh myself before or after the North Fork Century last weekend. But I feel heavier, maybe by a pound or two, or at least by the weight of two slices of pie.

Briermere Farms of Riverhead provided pies at the second rest stop of the metric century route, where I ate those slices--first a huge piece of blackberry with a modest amount of whipped cream, and then raspberry, almost as big. The crusts were thin, dark, and crisp; the fillings fragrant, delicious, and not too sweet.



Before Pie: Christine and Kathryn
(photo by Jim)

After polishing off the raspberry, I was tempted to taste yet another--apple, raspberry-cherry, strawberry, blueberry--but contented myself instead with fantasizing about pie-eating contests. After all, I'd just eaten a third of a large pie, and it wasn't even Thanksgiving.

What I'd already had that day: for breakfast: a small slice of coffee cake, small pastry, half a bagel with cream cheese, coffee; at the first rest stop at the Harbes vineyard: a half-piece of pita with humus, a cupful of mixed nuts, good handfuls of strawberries and cherries, a small handful of blueberries, a miniature Larabar, a couple of pieces of candy, and probably more I've forgotten.

At the end of the ride, I had a hot dog, a veggie burger, an ear of corn, a can of Sprite, and a vanilla chocolate-dipped cone from the Mister Softee truck. Back home that evening, Jim and I ate some taramosalata with Afghan bread, cheese, and leftover greens and drank white wine we'd bought at a North Shore vineyard the day before the ride.

So maybe it wasn't just the pie that added the ounces. And maybe if I'd actually finished the metric century I'd planned to (Jim was the only one of the four of us who actually did), I'd have at least the illusion that I'd lost weight--unless I'd eaten too much of the foccaccia that Jim enjoyed at the tasting of Harbes wines at the final rest stop.

After Pie: Mitch, Christine, and Kathryn (photo by Jim)