When Life Gives You Lemons, or Too Many Eggs...

...MAKE POUNDCAKE

A report was published in August of this year by the Natural Resources Defense Council claiming America as a country throws away 40% of our food every day, the equivalent of 20 pounds of food per person each year.  Not all is household waste, of course.  There is much American food production that never reaches the consumer. Nevertheless, the statistic is astounding to me. Forty percent is a surprising number, yet I know with surety our household contributes regularly to this waste.

Our garbage goes out to the curb on Sunday and Wednesday nights and I usually choose Sunday night as my night to clean out the refrigerator--purge the vegetable crisper, get rid of the overripe cheeses, empty the leftovers that didn't make the cut, pour out milk past its prime--you get the picture.  And let me say by way of apology composting is on my "to do" list.  My intention, as is yours I am sure, is to use what I have and not be wasteful.

I recently found myself behind the curve on egg acquisition. I am in a produce club here in town that grants me an array of local goodies each Monday afternoon consisting of fruits and veggies, milk, eggs, cheese, a meat item, fresh baked bread and an assortment of other surprises like honey, granola and jams. Yummy and thank you Windmill Market! But when I joined, I had just bought eggs and a good friend had surprised me with another dozen from his yard. The second week rolled around and I was looking at a stack of eggs in my fridge. I counted 3 dozen of the little suckers, most of them big, beautiful, brown farm eggs produced by free range local chickens, some of whom were known by name to their owner. At the risk of sounding a little bit like a bad impression of Bubba from Forrest Gump, let me say that I had made deviled eggs, egg salad, scrambled, poached and fried eggs, omelets, a Cobb salad studded with boiled egg quarters and STILL couldn't seem to get ahead.

I ponder these problems at spin class, a necessity when one has been cholesterol loading for the past week on farm eggs. What to do, what to do?  And I remember as I pedal in time to the music that one of my Christmas gifts from my mom was a tube pan, yet to be used. So my first thought was angel food cake.  Don't they take something like 12 egg whites?  But if I am honest, I just don't get that excited about angel food cake.  Poundcake excites me. Especially when I am on a spin bike. My mother makes a killer poundcake and although she generally doesn't give out the recipe, I am special. I understand I am not supposed to blog her poundcake recipe, but I am fairly sure if I adapt it and change it just enough, she will not banish me, nor will she cease sharing her best recipes with me. So here goes. I used all ingredients I had on hand, in particular making a container of whole milk ricotta cheese the star of this poundcake because that's what I had in my refrigerator.  I bought it for a pasta dish that didn't happen and felt good about repurposing it for this cake.  The results did not disappoint. You will notice I was so anxious to taste the warm cake I was not able to get a photo first.  I offer no apologies!

LEMON RICOTTA ALMOND POUNDCAKE

1-1/2 cups softened butter (3 sticks unsalted)
8 ounces whole milk ricotta cheese
3 cups sugar
6 large eggs (room temperature)
1-1/2 tsp. almond flavoring
1 tbs. lemon zest
1 tsp. lemon juice
3 cups sifted all purpose flour (sift first, then measure)
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 cup sliced almonds, lightly toasted

1.  Preheat oven to 300 degrees or 275 degrees for convection.  I put my almonds in a pan and let them toast in the oven as it preheats.  This works perfectly in my oven, but make sure you don't have a hot element that will burn the almonds instead of toast them.

2.  Grease and lightly flour a large tube pan.  I use Crisco because my mom does.  You could use butter if you don't keep Crisco in your pantry.

3.  Sift flour and measure 3 cups.  Mix in salt.

4.  In a large mixer bowl, combine the butter and ricotta cheese at low speed.  Beat 2 minutes until creamy.  Add sugar and beat 5-7 minutes, scraping the bowl often.

5.  Add eggs one at a time, beating just until the yellow disappears.  Add the almond flavoring, lemon juice and zest.

6.  Add the flour mixture gradually, beating at low speed just until blended.

7.  Pour batter into the pan and sprinkle the top of the batter with the toasted almonds.  Bake for about 1-1/2 hours.  Use a cake tester to make sure the cake is done.  Cool about 10-15 minutes before removing from the pan.  I use a small cooling rack to remove from the pan and then flip the cake very carefully so that the almonds are facing up on another cooling rack.

Note:  To any of my egg farming friends who read this, do not hesitate to share your eggs with me.  I need an occasional glut so that I can justify baking splurges such as this!

Ugly Carrots

These guys won't be winning any beauty contests anytime soon!

Not a winsome one in the bunch! These four contestants are all hairy, two with strange knobby projectiles, one oddly twisted and the last with a forked tongue.  If the criteria for carrots was strictly visual, these would be passed over without much deliberation. But the old adage that "beauty is only skin deep" rings true here with much certainty. These carrots 'sho nuff may be ugly, but they win the taste competition hands down.

As a matter of fact, the science of food production that makes our fruits and vegetables uniformly pretty and keeps them pretty longer has had the complete inverse impact on flavor. The subjects above have had an intimate relationship with dirt, and they look like it.  At the same time, they have absorbed all the tasty nutrients from the soil and have an unparalleled natural sweetness.  Any chance you get to eat an ugly carrot, I'd say take full advantage.

This year an abundance of ugly carrots has made its way to my kitchen.  As a member of Bee Natural CSA, the one thing we have had EVERY week is carrots.  The first couple of weeks as I picked up my share, the carrots began to snowball.  I had more each week than I could possibly assimilate into my meals.  But then I began to get innovative.  Grated carrots gave additional sweetness to my homemade marinara.  I cut carrot sticks every week and put them in a plastic container so we could snack on them all day long and eat them instead of chips with our sandwiches.  I discovered the delicate simplicity of roasted carrots, cut into chunks and tossed in olive oil, sprinkled with salt and pepper and cooked in a hot oven until slightly browned and caramelized. And then I did a Google search for carrot muffins and struck pure gold.  What I found was a recipe for zucchini bread with a sidebar noting that grated carrots can be substituted for zucchini.  With my abundance of carrots, I could certainly experiment. The other grabber in this recipe was that the sweetness came from honey instead of sugar.  Honey is another CSA bonanza with monthly distributions.  A touch of cinnamon and nutmeg will make your house smell like heaven while you are baking, and the whole wheat flour alleviates any guilt while scarfing down a piece or two.  A little slather of butter doesn't hurt things a bit, and my sister declares a little cream cheese makes it a winner at breakfast.

My own musing here makes me wonder if we are kind of like carrots.  If we concentrate too much on our outer selves--what we wear, how we look, what we possess--is there some sacrifice on the inside?  Perhaps we are at our God-created best when we focus on inner authenticity.  I just can't help but wonder.

Ugly Carrots, Local Honey and Farm Eggs

WHOLE WHEAT CARROT OR ZUCCHINI BREAD

1-1/2 cups carrots or zucchini, grated

1/2 cup oil or 1/2 cup butter, melted

1/2 cup honey or 1/2 cup brown sugar

2 eggs beaten

1 tsp. vanilla

1-1/2 cups whole wheat flour

1/2 tsp. baking soada

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1-1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 tsp. nutmeg

1/2 cup nuts, chopped

1/2 cup raisins (optional)

1.  Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

2.  Beat together oil and honey.  (I use grape seed oil.)

3.  Add eggs, vanilla and carrots.

4.  Sift dry ingredients and add to carrot mixture.

5.  Add the nuts last.

6.  Bake in a greased 9" loaf pann for 45-60 minutes.  Note:  I use an oven thermometer to check the oven temperature when baking, and even so, I have had great variability in the baking time of this bread.  I think it may have to do with the size of the eggs.  I start checking it at about 35 minutes with a cake tester.  You want the tester to come out dry, but you don't want the bread to get too brown or it will be TOO dry.

Make Hay While the Sun Shines--or Something Like That!

Harvest is upon us in a big way in South Alabama and I am almost in a panic!  My theme right now is "no regrets."  I don't want to look back in November and wish I had eaten more peaches, more tomatoes, more fresh corn, more fresh anything during this happy time of year.  And living in the coastal south has meant a not-so-subtle shift in my North Georgia thinking when it comes to the bounty of summer.  It is upon us a little earlier here, before I am mentally ready and if I blink, I may miss something.

Being a member of the only CSA in Baldwin County (Bee Natural Farm) has certainly given me a leg up on the fresh / local / organic / sustainable ladder.  The good stuff comes to me weekly whether I am ready for it or can keep up with it.  Are you an I Love Lucy fan?  There are certain iconic episodes, such as the one where Lucy visits a winery and is mistaken for one of the workers and ends up stomping grapes.  And all of us of a certain age can remember the episode where Lucy and Ethel take jobs in a candy factory. The supervisor shows them how to package the candies as the conveyor belt delivers them at a quite manageable rate.  Soon, the conveyor belt picks up speed and Lucy and Ethel resort to a number of humorous methods of keeping up with the job such as stuffing the candy into their mouths.  That is certainly what I would have done!

But now the good stuff is arriving almost quicker than I can keep up.  A trip out of town or a meal out at a restaurant may mean something goes to waste, and we can't have that.  Especially, I tell you, the fresh peaches.  I will not, WILL NOT you hear me, let one of these peaches perish.  I think I made it clear last year how I feel about peaches. I offered recipes for peach cobbler and homemade peach ice cream, hallelujah, praise the Lord!  But when it comes to peaches, I am just like Forrest Gump's friend Bubba is about shrimp and I can offer you a gazillion things to do with a few fine peaches. Today I offer you a rustic peach tart.  My good friends at The Joy of Cooking want to pretty it up and give it a nice, French name, so they call it a Peach Galette.  You'll like it, whether it is rustic or prettied up.

In order to do this, I have renewed my acquaintance with the homemade pie crust.  I gave up on that relationship for a long time in lieu of the Pillsbury kind you keep in the freezer and take out at the last minute.  I have absolutely nothing against that shortcut, but I am living with a tiny little refrigerator that has a freezer about the size of the glove box in your car, if your car is an undersized compact that barely has room for your owner's manual.  Getting anything out of the freezer requires you first say a brief prayer asking mercy from your creator that something frozen and heavy not fall out and crush your toes.  Then you position one arm so it is ready in an instant to shove jumpers back up into the space. And then you go for it.  I keep frozen butter up there at all times because to me, getting caught without butter would be like forgetting to wear my skivvies, and that ain't going to happen EVER.  Especially the part about the butter.  So my kitchen is much more a "make it from scratch" place these days instead of a "keep it ready to go in the freezer" kind of kitchen.  There are a few "make it from scratch" things that I keep in the freezer after they are made, like pizza dough and tomato sauce, but now I am giving you much more information about my freezer and my skivvies than you ever wanted.  So I think I'll just tell you about my Rustic Peach Tart, or my prettied up Peach Galette, with a nod to The Joy of Cooking for their help in all things pertaining to making it from scratch.

Now we all know you can use any recipe for pie crust that suits your fancy, or you can take the Pillsbury frozen one out of your spacious built in sub-zero.  But we must be honest with ourselves and admit homemade DOES taste better, every time.  But sometimes quick wins out, and that's okay.  The way this crust folds over on the fruit, it looks rustic and homemade either way.  I have found a recipe for a "flaky" pie crust in JOC that absolutely works like a charm every time and can be whirred together in your food processor without too much work.  You do need a little advance time to let it cool down in the refrigerator (about an hour) before you roll out the dough, so be forewarned. You can put it in the freezer (your spacious sub-zero) for about 15 minutes and accomplish the same thing, but if you leave it too long, you've got a rock on your hands rather than pie dough. You can also use any fruit in this.  I've been using mostly peaches with a few waning strawberries from my refrigerator tossed in.  Blueberry season should be here about tomorrow, so I have great plans to toss peaches and blueberries in together.  I quote a lovely woman named Ursula, from whom I took cooking classes in Atlanta for many years, when I tell you, "You are the boss in the kitchen."

Rustic Peach Tart
1 recipe Flaky Pie Crust (follows)
2 cups thinly sliced peaches or other fruit
2 plus tablespoons sugar
dash cinnamon (optional)
1 tablespoon butter

1.  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.
2.  Roll out the crust until it is about 1/4 - 1/8 of an inch thin.  Cut it into a nice circle.  I use the top from my Le Creuset pot as a guide.

3.  Slide the crust onto a piece of parchment or directly onto a baking sheet.

4.  Rub a little butter over the crust.  This will help keep the fruit juices from making the crust soggy.

5.  Pile fruit into the middle of the crust, leaving a couple of inches around the perimeter.  Sprinkle with 2 tablespoons of sugar and a dash of cinnamon.  Dot evenly with the butter cut in small pieces.

6.  Fold and pleat the border of the dough over and around the fruit.  Sprinkle 1-2 teaspoons of sugar over the folded crust.

7.  Bake until golden brown, around 25 - 35 minutes.  Don't worry if fruit juices bleed out a bit during cooking.  It just adds to the rustic nature of the tart.  It is also a good reason to use parchment between the tart and the baking sheet, making for much easier clean-up!  Serve with sweetened whip cream.  And if you've done everything from scratch so far, oh earth mother that you are, whip your own cream for this!

Flaky Pie Crust
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons powdered sugar (or 1 Tb. white sugar)
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) butter (best frozen)
3 ounces cream cheese (best frozen)
2-3 tablespoons cold heavy cream

1.  In a food processor, combine the dry ingredients for 10 seconds.

2.  Cut the butter and cream cheese into 1/2 inch chunks.  Scatter over the top of the dry ingredients in the food processor.  Pulse for 1-2 second bursts until the fat is the size of peas.

3.  With the machine off, drizzle in 2 tablespoons cold heavy cream.  Pulse until the dough begins to clump into small pieces.  Try to press the dough together with your fingers; if it will not cohere, add another tablespoon of cream and pulse again.  Note: each time I make this it takes exactly 3 tablespoons of cream to get the consistency I want.

4.  Gather it out of the food processor and put it on a floured surface.  Mash it all together with your floured hands and shape it into a disc.  Cover in plastic wrap and let it cool in the refrigerator for about an hour before you work with it.

Different can be Good

Pumpkin Squash from Bee Natural Farm

People are creatures of habit.  Perhaps some of our most ingrained habits surround the foods we buy and how we cook them.  We trace the same path each time we head into the supermarket, filling our carts with the safe and familiar. Most times we pass by the unfamiliar with little or no curiosity.  A truth I have come to realize is that if my local grocer carries an item on a regular basis, there is some shopper out there who buys that ingredient fairly often, at least often enough to keep it in stock on the shelves. Therefore there must be some culinary options for the unknowns that are pretty darn good.

For many years, I passed through the produce section regularly without giving much notice to the bin of squashes.  If anything I probably registered them as a decorative element, bringing to mind the "horn of plenty" we see at Thanksgiving each year, placed there to make me think there is some sort of real harvest happening close by. Ambience, that's what they were to me.  And then about a decade ago I was propelled into the land of unknown squashes.  First, I began to see more and more things made with butternut squash, and actually TRIED butternut squash ravioli and found it to be amazing.  As a matter of fact, I love butternut squash ravioli, simply dressed with a bit of brown butter and fried sage leaves.  Ooh la la, not much better!  So, I investigated the squash bin to see if I could identify ye olde butternut squash.  There she was, looking indeed like a big nut of some kind.  Alongside the butternut was another little squashy that looked like a big old acorn.  Hence the name on the label, "acorn" squash. I tucked that knowledge away in the back of my mind knowing it would come home to roost at a later time.  And indeed it did.

Several, several years ago, at Thanksgiving--the official celebration of harvest and all things good and plentiful on the table--acorn squash jumped back into the forefront of my vision when I perused a special recipe section in the Atlanta Journal Constitution food section.  They featured a recipe for "Acorn Squash with Maple Georgia Pecans and Goat Cheese."  This recipe was included as a vegetarian main dish alternative in the traditional Thanksgiving feast.  Well, they had me at goat cheese.  I never met a recipe with goat cheese I didn't like.  This was no exception.  Omnivore that I am, I did not give up my Thanksgiving tryptophan (read Turkey.)  But I did try this recipe and have made it a few gazillion times since because it is so good.  It is a great alternative to the baked potato, or mashed sweets, or rice, or other starch you place alongside your meat.  It is indeed also a great centerpiece entree in a Meatless Monday meal.  It adds heft to greens and a salad, and the denseness of the squash balances out lighter offerings quite nicely.

One of the highlights of my life this year is that I became a member of the Bee Natural CSA in Baldwin County.  It is the only true CSA in this region and sports a two year waiting list.  When I moved to this area, I plopped myself onto that waiting list, called annually to plead my case, and then got THE LETTER this January saying that I had been accepted.  Remember Steve Martin in a movie called, The Jerk, finding his name in the phone book and announcing, "I'm somebody now"?  Picture me jumping around in my kitchen waving the official letter in my hands proclaiming my secure footing in this world.  I AM A CSA MEMBER.

My first pick-up this spring gave me a choice between a couple of cellared items: sweet potatoes or pumpkin squash.  Committed to taking the food road less traveled, I chose the pumpkin squash, which looked quite a bit like my old friend the acorn squash, only a little less green and a bit more like a diminutive candidate for a good old Halloween carving.  Not having a clue what the inside would be like, but taking my cue from the butternut and acorn varieties, I cooked it up with my tried and true pecan and goat cheese accompaniments.  This was such a good dish that I chose the pumpkin squash over the sweet potatoes the next three weeks.  Maybe you've got a little squash friend making an appearance in your CSA box, or maybe you'd like to get a little better acquainted with the squash bin in your supermarket.  Or maybe you have done baked potatoes until you just can't stand to butter up another.  Or perhaps I had you at "goat cheese."  Something different (with a little goat cheese on top) can be VERY good.

ACORN (OR PUMPKIN) SQUASH WITH MAPLE PECANS AND GOAT CHEESE
adapted from the Atlanta Journal Constitution and the Georgia Pecan Commission

Note:  Each squash makes 2 servings.  Quantities listed are for 1 squash.  This can easily be doubled, tripled or quadrupled to feed as many folks as you have invited round the table.

1 acorn squash, halved crosswise and seeded
dash of salt
1 Tbs. melted butter
1/3 cup chopped pecans
1 Tbs. real maple syrup, plus more to drizzle
1/4 tsp. fresh thyme leaves or a dash of dry
2 ounces goat cheese (feta would work)

1.  Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

2.  Line a baking sheet with foil or parchment paper.
3.  Sprinkle the inside of the squash halves with salt and brush with melted butter.

4.  Turn upside down and bake for 30 minutes. (I slice the pointy end off the squash so it will eventually sit flat on a plate.)

5.  In a bowl, combine the pecans, maple syrup and thyme.

6.  Place a heaping tablespoon of the pecan mixture in the hollow of each squash half.

7.  Place a one ounce round of goat cheese (or one ounce crumbles) over the pecan mixture in each squash half and top with the remaining pecan mixture.

8.  Bake upright 10 minutes.  Drizzle with more syrup as desired.

Light and Fresh

From Bee Natural Farm CSA, Baldwin County

We herald the arrival of spring as we would a visit from a long absent friend. Cold toes and fingers begin to thaw.  Tiny green leaves appear tentatively on trees and shrubs, then seem to grow more confident each day.  Camellias give way to daffodils, then azaleas and dogwoods.  Birds sing and chirp with gusto as they begin to build their nests in earnest.  God's hand is seen at every turn.  It seems no accident nature points to a Master Designer this time of year as Lent gives way to a glorious Easter celebration.  The new birth seen all around us is the emphatic exclamation point for the power of Resurrection.

It is with great thanksgiving and praise I begin to noodle around in my kitchen this time of year.  We are on the threshold of great eating, when words like "local" and "seasonal" become more than just theory.  The most ardent locavore among us has by now surely succumbed to the less than ideal vegetal offerings found in our supermarkets and we have certainly been disappointed by the lack of flavor and freshness we have found there.  But now we return in droves to our local farmers' markets as diligent farmers and gardeners begin to harvest their first fruits.  We delve into our CSA boxes with the fervor of a six year old ripping through Christmas paper after weeks of hungrily surveying the neatly wrapped packages.

It is April and salad is the star of the show rather than a minor first act.  In January and February we may have a salad with our meal, but only because that is how we are accustomed to putting a meal together.  In April, a salad is composed with great tenderness, inspecting the different textures and colors, knowing we can hardly go wrong with ingredients so fresh.  There are as many ways to dress a salad as there are people who eat salads.  But as I put together delicate greens, crunchy radishes, crisp carrots, and spring onions, I want a dressing that will let the flavors and textures shine. This light dressing, yogurt meets avocado and fresh lemon juice, works for me and it may be just right for your spring salad, as well.

Avocado Yogurt Dressing
1 avocado
1/2 lemon
1/2 cup plain yogurt (Greek or regular)
1 Tbs. chopped fresh dill
salt and pepper to taste
milk for thinning

1.  Remove avocado from its peel with a large spoon.  Mash with the back of a fork.

2.  Squeeze a bit of lemon juice over the avocado.  Work into the avocado with your fork.

3.  Add mashed avocado to the yogurt.  Squeeze any juice remaining in the lemon half into the yogurt.  Mix well.

4.  Add chopped dill to the avocado mixture.  Add salt and pepper to taste.

5.  Thickness will vary depending upon what kind of yogurt you use.  Leave it nice and thick and it is a perfect dip for veggies.  Thin it with milk, about a teaspoon at a time, until it is the consistency you want for a salad dressing.  Leave it thick enough to cling nicely to the salad ingredients.