After more than a week of certain autumn the recent spate of muggy days have felt like a retreat toward summertime. This is the time of year when warm weather is equally as possible as cold, when the transition from one season to the next feels more like a series of fluctuations than a linear narrative of cooling temperatures and shortening days. Fall arrives and summer immediately asserts its lingering presence and so on in a series of interlocking days that fail to establish a middle ground between the two seasons until suddenly, one morning, it is irrevocably cold. In the midst of this unpredictability I was reminded of this time one year ago, and although the daily specifics of whatever jagged overlap of seasons characterized our work in September of 2010 are lost to me, I was aware--in the way that odd dates or events remain as arbitrary cairns in our memory--that this same weekend last September was unexpectedly warm and humid. I remembered visiting friends in Northampton on the 25th of September last year and my mild discomfort in the wet air and the difficulty I had falling asleep in an upstairs apartment, and I was struck by this unexpected annual symmetry revealing itself amidst our present discontinuous progress toward autumn: A welcome glimpse of the larger patterns in which we participate, one changeable day at a time.
The share this week:
You-Pick Husk Cherries
Notes About the Food:
* We had our suspicions last year that because we are farming a low, wet piece of ground it would be difficult for us to grow potatoes. We planted a small amount as an experiment, and our hypothesis was confirmed by the poor yield and small size of what we harvested. Well-drained planting beds are at a premium for us, and to successfully grow potatoes for the CSA would require a larger percentage of the most desirable parts our fields than we can spare, and the resulting space issues would jeopardize our other crops. We weighed our options and decided that even if it doesn't make sense for us to grow them, we'd like to offer potatoes in the share. So we budgeted accordingly, and this year we are happy to provide potatoes from Allandale Farm. It was truly a pleasure to arrange the purchase and to visit the farm in Brookline to pick up the potatoes. In addition to last week and this week, expect potatoes from Allandale in one more share before the end of the season.
Warm Potato Salad with Goat Cheese
For the Dressing
1 tablespoon white wine vinegar or sherry vinegar
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
Salt to taste
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard
1 medium garlic clove, minced
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
For the Salad
1 1/2 pounds potatoes
Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
2 to 4 tablespoons finely chopped red onion
2 tablespoons chopped flat-leaf parsley
2 ounces soft goat cheese
2 to 3 sage leaves, cut into thin slivers (optional)
Make the dressing. Whisk together the lemon juice, vinegar, mustard, salt, pepper, and garlic. Whisk in the olive oil. Taste and adjust seasonings, and set aside.
Scrub the potatoes and cut into 3/4-inch dice. Steam above 1 inch of boiling water until tender but not mushy, about 10 to 12 minutes. Remove from the heat and toss while hot in a bowl with salt and pepper to taste, the onions, parsley, goat cheese, and dressing. Sprinkle the sage over the top and serve.
* The New York Times (the source for all of the recipes in this post) described cabbage as a "versatile vegetable for hard times," and I was pleased to search for recipes that include cabbage alongside potatoes and uncover a plethora of adjectives synonymous with "rustic," many of which referred to a bygone notion of Irish peasantry. Nothing wrong with that:
Smashed Red Potatoes with Cabbage
2 pounds red potatoes, scrubbed
1 pound cabbage, quartered, cored, and cut into thin shreds across the grain
2 tablespoons butter or extra-virgin olive oil
2 heaped tablespoons chopped scallions
2/3 cup low-fat milk (more as needed), warmed
Freshly ground pepper
2 tablespoons minced chives (optional)
Cover the potatoes with water in a saucepan, add about 1/2 teaspoon of salt and bring to a boil. Reduce the heat to medium, cover partially and cook until tender all the way through when pierced with a knife, about 30 minutes. Do not drain the water, but using a skimmer or slotted spoon, transfer the potatoes from the pot to a bowl. Cover tightly and allow to sit for five to 10 minutes. Then, using a towel to hold the potatoes steady (because they're still hot), cut them into quarters.
Meanwhile, bring the water back to a boil, add more salt if desired and add the cabbage. Cook uncovered until tender, five to six minutes. Drain.
Heat the butter or oil over medium heat in a large, heavy nonstick skillet, and add the scallions. Cook, stirring, until they soften, about three minutes. Add the potatoes. Smash the potatoes to a coarse mash in the pan with a potato masher or the back of your spoon. Stir in the hot milk, and mix together well until the potatoes have absorbed all the milk. Stir in the cabbage, and season generously with salt and pepper. Add the chives, stir together until heated through, and serve.
Cabbage is also a versatile vegetable for fancy times, and such times may call for a tart:
Cabbage and Caramelized Onion Tart
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 medium onions, cut in half root to stem, then thinly sliced across the grain
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 small cabbage, shredded or chopped (about 6 cups)
Freshly ground black pepper
3/4 cup low-fat milk
1/2 cup, tightly packed (2 ounces) Gruyere cheese
1 pie crust (NYT recommends this recipe)
Heat 1 tablespoon of the olive oil in a large, heavy non-stick skillet over medium heat. Add the onions and cook, stirring, until they begin to sizzle and soften, about three minutes. Add a generous pinch of salt and the garlic. Stir everything together, turn the heat to low, cover and cook slowly for 45 minutes, stirring often, until the onions are very soft, sweet and light brown.
Meanwhile, heat the remaining olive oil over medium heat in another large skillet. Add the cabbage. Cook, stirring often, until it begins to wilt, then add salt and pepper to taste. Continue to cook for another 10 to 15 minutes, stirring often, until the cabbage is tender and fragrant. Stir in the onions, simmer together uncovered for about five minutes or until there is no longer any liquid in the pan, and remove from the heat.
Heat the oven to 350 degrees. Oil a 9- or 10-inch tart pan and line with the dough. Beat the eggs and milk in a bowl and season with salt (about 1/2 teaspoon) and pepper. Stir in the onions, cabbage and cheese, and combine well. Scrape into the tart pan, and place in the oven. Bake 40 to 45 minutes until the top is lightly browned.
*Cabbage is another cool-weather crop that we grow in the spring and fall, and so is bok choi. Add it to the arsenal of greens returning after a summer's absence, and try it in an easy stir-fry:
Stir-Fried Bok Choi or Sturdy Greens
12 to 16 ounces bok choi or sturdy greens, such as collards
1/4 cup vegetable broth or water
1 tablespoon Shao Hsing rice wine or dry sherry
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1/4 teaspoon cornstarch
1 tablespoon peanut or canola oil
3 garlic cloves, minced
1 slice ginger, minced
Salt to taste
1/4 teaspoon sugar
1 to 2 teaspoons sesame seeds
Rinse bok choi and cut crosswise into 2-inch pieces. Bring an inch of water to a boil in the bottom of a steamer, and place the bok choi in the steamer basket. Steam 1 minute, remove from the heat and rinse in cold water. Squeeze out excess water and drain on a kitchen towel.
Combine the broth or water, rice wine or sherry, soy sauce and cornstarch in a small bowl and place within arm's reach of your pan. Have the remaining ingredients measured out and near your pan.
Heat a 14-inch flat-bottomed wok or a 12-inch skillet over high heat until a drop of water evaporates within a second or two when added to the pan. Swirl in the oil by adding it to the sides of the pan and swirling the pan, then add garlic and ginger and stir-fry for 10 seconds, until fragrant. Add the bok choi or greens, sprinkle with salt and the sugar, and stir-fry for about 30 seconds. Stir the cornstarch mixture and swirl into the wok, then stir-fry for 1 minute, or until the greens are just tender. Sprinkle on the sesame seeds. Remove from the heat and serve.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
At some point in recent weeks, while I was preoccupied with the overabundance of rainfall and the fact that the viability of several of our crops was threatened by the inability of our fields to dry, September began, and the season turned to fall. The rain and its attendant stress distracted my awareness from what are usually milestones of relief, and when it cleared last week I was surprised and happy to be reacquainted with cool mornings and the softening light of a Massachusetts autumn. Our days unencumbered by precipitation, we have been able to take stock of our fields and prepare ourselves for the season's homestretch. It is true that the lifespan of some of our crops was shortened--you will receive the last of our beleaguered tomatoes this week--but not tragically so. The rest of what we will harvest this year is in the ground, and those crops are enjoying the same gentle conditions as those of us who tend them. As they ease toward maturity and we ease toward October and the last weeks of the CSA season, we are careful to appreciate the dual reprieve from summer's heat and its persistent inclemencies.
The share this week:
Notes About the Food:
* There are many days when I feel like I am underwater and the people around me are on dry land and I am talking to them and they are talking to me but we are not communicating, and on those days I think that one of the greatest tragedies of our lives is the fact that all of our joys are private. On those days I think perhaps we are all submerged and isolated and that it is impossible to express the truth of any of the things we feel. In this way our sadnesses, our anxieties, our periods of contentment are all private, and alongside them our genuine fondness for the things we love wells within us until we overflow, at which point it enters the world diluted by language and inflection, a watery and imperfect representation that keeps us separate from those with whom we would share our happiness.
Of course I am thinking of dandelion greens. Back in the share after a summer's absence, they are still bitter, they are still nutritious, and I love them. Alone, mostly. And if I despair of effectively sharing my affinity for the things, that's okay, it's among the least important of all that will remain permanently incommunicable between us.
You might prefer them with eggs and bacon. From Earth to Table:
Dandelion Salad with Poached Eggs and Bacon
For the croutons
2 cups stale bread, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons minced herbs, such as thyme or rosemary
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
For the salad
8 ounces thick-cut bacon, cut into 1-inch pieces
canola oil, as needed
1 tablespoon minced shallots
2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
1 tablespoon whole-grain mustard
4 cups dandelion leaves
For the eggs
4 large eggs
6 cups water
1/4 cup white vinegar
Preheat the oven to 350. Toss the bread with the oil, herbs, and salt, and spread on a baking sheet. Bake until golden brown, about 10 minutes.
In the meantime, start the bacon cooking in a large skillet over medium heat. Cook until the fat renders and the bacon is chewy and starting to crisp, about 7-10 minutes. Remove to a plate lined with paper towels, then add a little canola oil (if necessary) to make about 1/3 cup of fat, depending how much fat the bacon rendered. Add the shallots, vinegar, and mustard, and bring to a boil, scraping up any brown bits in the pan. Stir quickly to bring together into a dressing and keep warm.
While the bacon is cooking, bring the water and vinegar for the eggs to a simmer, then crack the eggs into a small dish or ladle. Slip them carefully into the water and simmer until the whites are just set and yoke is still runny, about 3-4 minutes.
In a large bowl, combine the dandelion greens with the bacon, croutons, and dressing. Toss to combine, then plate and top with the poached egg. Serve immediately while the egg and the dressing are still warm.
The following recipe was published in a 2007 New York magazine, with a note about the New York chef and restaurant from which it was taken. It pleases me because of my interest in Greece and for its use of the word "midribs" to describe a part of the leaf I had always thought of as "veins." I like midribs better:
Warm Dandelion Greens with Fingerling Potatoes and Cherry Peppers
"Pesky weed to some, seasonal delicacy to others, the jagged, bitter dandelion green is on of those Mediterranean peasant foods newly embraced for their health-giving properties--in this case a preponderance of iron, calcium, and vitamin A. Delicate young greens are terrific in raw salads, but in the Greek kitchen the mature leaf is often used in the generic "horta" preparation, (over)boiled and simply dressed with olive oil and lemon, the way Anthos chef Michael Psilakis's mother made it. Psilakis prefers to preserve the plant's bitter bite by blanching it quickly just to tenderize, then sauteing it with garlic and hot peppers, as in this warm spring salad."
2 bunches mature dandelion greens, washed, thick stems removed
12 pickled cherry peppers
Extra-virgin olive oil
6 cloves garlic, crushed and coarsely chopped
18 fingerling potatoes, roasted
1 1/2 cups pitted Thassos olives (Kalamata may be substituted)
Juice of 3 lemons
1 1/2 cups crumbled Greek feta
salt and pepper
Add dandelion greens to a large pot of boiling salted water, and cook just until the midribs (the part of the stem that extends into the leaf) are malleable. Immediately remove and shock in an ice bath. Lay greens on a dish towel to dry thoroughly. Stem and quarter the cherry peppers, discarding the seeds if a milder degree of heat is desired.
Add 5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil to a large pan over medium heat. In rapid succession, cook garlic and peppers until garlic begins to brown, add potatoes and stir to coat with oil, add dandelion greens and olives to warm, and deglaze with lemon juice, giving the pan's contents a quick toss. Take care not to overcook the greens and potatoes.
Transfer to a large serving bowl and add crumbled feta. Dress with olive oil and season to taste.
* As the weather cools you'll notice several crops that we grew in the spring--dandelion greens among them--return to the rotation. We schedule two plantings of much of our cool-weather produce, the first timed for early-season harvest, the second for autumn harvest. Kohlrabi is another example of a crop that does not tolerate the full heat of summer but with which we choose to begin and end our growing season. When we last saw kohlrabi it was pale green; this fall we are growing a purple variety. The color extends from the skin of the bulb through the stems and midribs, but you will recognize the crisp white interior as the same refreshment we saw in the spring variety. Here's a recipe from the BBC (why not?), which also calls for leeks:
Smothered Leeks and Kohlrabi
"Smothering is a way of cooking vegetables with a little fat and the least possible amount of water in a covered pan until very, very tender. Kohlrabi holds together well, adding its own natural sweetness."
3 leeks, trimmed and cut into 3/4-inch lengths
2 kohlrabi, trimmed and cut into 3/4-inch cubes
3 large carrots, cut into 3/4-inch pieces
6 garlic cloves
1 bay leaf
2 sprigs fresh thyme
water, to cover
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 1/2 ounces butter
Place the leeks, kohlrabi, carrots, and garlic into a wide shallow pan that will take them in a single layer. Tuck the herbs among them.
Pour in enough water to come 1/2-inch up the sides of the pan. Season with salt and pepper, and dot with butter.
Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to the absolute minimum. Cover the pan with a lid and leave to cook very gently for about an hour, stirring occasionally to make sure it doesn't catch. If necessary, add an extra splash of water, or if it ends up to watery uncover and boil the water off. Either way, your aim is to end with meltingly tender vegetables, perhaps slightly patched with brown toward the end of the cooking, with little more than a few tablespoons of syrupy liquid left in the pan. Serve warm.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Last year I noticed that on several occasions I put on rain pants before it began to rain and then proceeded to work comfortably in whatever inclement conditions ensued. This was a notable improvement of my previous tendency to wait until I was in the midst of a rainstorm to acknowledge the weather and don protective clothing, and I decided my new-found attention to preventative measures was a sign of maturity. And I was proud to count this rudimentary example of common sense among my attributes until earlier this season, when I realized during one of the heavy rainfalls of August that without my noticing my raincoat and rain pants had grown so old and permeable that they were best considered decorative rather than functional, and I was wearing them to no effect except an exacerbation of my wet condition. Intending to trick myself into acquiring a new rain outfit that would actually repel rain, I threw out the old set and then promptly undermined my claims of common sense and self-reliance by failing to replace it before our region was beset by 1. A hurricane, and 2. The extended aftermath of a tropical storm. If I have been unduly wet in recent weeks, and a little cold, it's my own fault.
Personal comfort aside, this August was one of the wettest on record, and September has scarcely been drier. By last Thursday our fields were saturated so that as the rain fell it pooled and then diffused itself in fast-flowing rivulets across many of our planting beds. We picked peppers that were underwater, and we stood in water well above our ankles to harvest cherry tomatoes. To see our plants submerged was a strange, disheartening experience, tempered only by the soggy awareness that there was not a thing we could do about it. It felt like the culmination of a waterlogged season, the point at which our summer of work might be fully undone. Since then we have had a few dry days during which to assess the state of our fields, and the situation does not feel as bleak as when the rain was pummeling the soil and the water was rising around our feet. Many of our planting beds are still choked with water, and the lifespan of the crops in those beds will likely be shortened, but our ability to produce food on the farm as a whole is not compromised. Each season is different, and the overabundance of water is part of this year's unique set of challenges. And if we're foolish enough to meet those challenges without a raincoat, we're not so foolish as to be ungrateful for what we've been spared: In a season in which farms throughout the northeast have been subject to flood damage far worse than our own, we consider ourselves lucky to accept the rain as it falls, to learn from its excess, and to work successfully in spite of it.
The share this week:
Red Russian Kale
Red or Chioggia Beets
Husk Cherries or Green Beans
Notes about the food:
* Kale is among the crops that have thrived in the cool, wet conditions, and after a few weeks of summertime absence from our harvest schedule, we're happy to have it back. Its success during trying times in our fields is indicative of the give-and-take of each season. 2010 was hot and dry well into the autumn, conditions that prolonged the life of our tomato plants and other heat-loving crops but were deleterious to the kale and cabbage and other cool weather crops that we plant for harvest in the spring and then again in the fall. Brassicas were almost fully absent from the share at this time last season, but those plants that were unable to produce in the extended summer of 2010 have grown vigorously in the reduced temperatures and increased rainfall of this season, and we have reason to be enthusiastic about the kale, broccoli, and the rest, even as the tomatoes--so strong at this time one year ago-- continue to weaken. One is coming and the other going, so for now, two recipes that include kale and cherry tomatoes during this week of their overlap:
Lentil, Kale, and Cherry Tomato Salad
1/2 cup brown lentils
1/2 cup green lentils
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1/4 teaspoon red chili flakes
1/2 pint cherry tomatoes, halved
1 bunch kale, roughly chopped
2 tablespoons fresh oregano
1 lemon, juiced
8 slices whole grain bread
1 clove garlic, halved
butter, as needed
salt to taste
Bring a large pot of unsalted water to a boil with the lentils. Reduce heat to simmer and cook until tender, about 20 minutes.
Meanwhile, heat olive oil, red chili flakes, and tomatoes in a small saucepan over medium heat. Continue to cook until tomatoes begin to soften, then set aside.
Bring a large pot of water to a boil over high heat. Add the kale and cook until wilted and a vivid dark green. Drain and rinse under cold water.
Drain the olive oil from the tomatoes into bowl or small jar. Add the oregano, lemon juice, and a generous pinch of coarse salt. Whisk with a fork until combined. Adjust the acidity and seasoning if necessary.
Toast the pieces of bread and, while still warm, brush with cut side of the garlic clove and spread with butter.
To serve, drain the lentils, toss with the prepared dressing, tomatoes, and kale and season to taste with salt. Arrange a slice of toast on each plate and spoon a generous portion over top. Sprinkle with a coarse finishing salt if desired.
Raw Kale Salad with Avocado, Cherry Tomato, Onion, and Toasted Walnuts
2 cups kale, torn into bite-sized chunks
1/2 of a small avocado, cubed
10 cherry tomatoes, halved
1 tablespoon toasted walnut pieces
1 tablespoon sliced red onion
1/4 of a fresh lemon
1 tablespoon olive oil
Place the torn kale in a mixing bowl, pour in the olive oil, and squeeze the juice from the lemon over the leaves. Sprinkle with salt and mix thoroughly.
Toss in cherry tomatoes, avocado, and toasted walnuts, and continue to toss until well mixed. Add salt to taste.
* This is the final week for edamame. You'll notice that some of the leaves on the plants have died back, and that the pods have darkened. These changes in appearance are normal as the plant ages, but you'll find the soybeans themselves unchanged. As I said before, I rarely eat these as anything other than a stand-alone snack, but they are also easy to incorporate as part of a more elaborate presentation:
Roasted Corn and Edamame Salad
2 ears fresh corn, unhusked, or 1 1/4 cups cooked corn kernels
1/2 cup edamame, steamed and shelled
1/4 cup chopped red onion
1/4 cup small-diced red bell pepper
1 tablespoon finely chopped fresh cilantro
1 tablespoon light mayonnaise
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 1/2 teaspoons finely chopped or grated ginger
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
Soak fresh corn in cold water about 30 minutes. Heat grill on high. Grill corn in husk, 10 to 15 minutes, turning once. Let cool. Remove husks. Cut corn from cob into a bowl; combine with remaining ingredients. Cover and chill in refrigerator until ready to serve.
* I rarely post about food that is not in the current week's share, but it is possible that you have been wondering how I have spent my free time lately, and the answer involves basil. Whether basil is in the share again this season is dependent on how the final planting recovers from being forced to grow in a lot of mud, but we're optimistic. Until then, if you have some basil at hand, and some free time, I recommend you revisit the cookie recipe from week 9. When I first posted the recipe I hadn't made it. Now, it is basically how I spend my weekends.
Monday, September 5, 2011
I have already used the Fourth of July as an excuse for a foreshortened update; may I do the same for Labor Day? Our calendars are not attuned to such holidays, but the roads were quiet as I biked to and from the farm, the mail was not delivered, and the prevailing atmosphere was of a second consecutive Sunday. On the farm we performed the weekly pre-harvest and prepared for imminent days of undesired rain. It was a typical workday, so please consider reduced attention to this paragraph as my way of involving myself in the the three-day weekend. And if I'm eliding the fact that, as on the Fourth of July, I may have attended an after-work cookout and eaten a hamburger and played some clumsy ping-pong, and in so doing left myself with a deficit of time to spend in front of the computer, you'll forgive me. Look at that garlic!
The share this week:
Mixed Herbs: Cilantro or Dill or Lemon Basil
You-Pick Husk Cherries
Notes about the food:
* You may have noticed that color has been creeping into the peppers. We began harvesting green peppers several weeks ago to lighten the load of each plant, and since then we have watched the remaining peppers become splotched, then streaked, then fully overtaken by color, and we are now able to offer red peppers alongside green, and those alongside yellow and orange. Purple is well represented too, and we are growing one variety of sweet pepper that is ripe when brown. It's not a color of the rainbow, but it's delicious, and I was pleased to recently overhear Joshua rightly ennoble its appearance by describing the coloration to a customer not as brown, but as mahogany. The following recipes, both from Gourmet, are a good way to try different varieties in one dish.
Roasted Peppers Stuffed with Cherry Tomatoes, Onion, and Basil
4 sweet bell peppers
1 pint cherry tomatoes
1 medium onion
1 cup packed fresh basil leaves
3 garlic cloves
3 tablespoons olive oil
Preheat oven to 425 and lightly oil a large shallow baking pan.
Halve peppers lengthwise and discard seeds and ribs. Arrange peppers, cut side up, in baking pan and lightly oil cut edges and stems. Halve tomatoes and chop onions and basil. Finely chop garlic and in a bowl toss with tomatoes, onion, basil, 2 tablespoons oil, and salt and pepper to taste. Divide mixture among peppers and roast in upper third of oven until peppers are tender, about 20 minutes.
Roasted Peppers, Onion, and Eggplant
3 large sweet peppers
2-3 small Italian eggplant, about 1 pound, halved lengthwise
2 1/2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 large sweet onion, halved through root end and cut into 1/2-inch wedges
Preheat oven to 400.
Place whole peppers in one third of an oiled, large 1-inch-deep baking pan. Brush cut sides of eggplants with 1/2 tablespoon oil and arrange next to peppers in pan. Toss onions with 1 tablespoon oil and place in remaining third of pan.
Roast vegetables, turning peppers occasionally, until skins of peppers blister on all sides, about 40 minutes. Transfer peppers to a bowl, cover, and let steam for 10 minutes. Continue roasting eggplant and onion until tender and browned, about 20 minutes more, and keep warm, covered.
Peel peppers and cut into 1/2-inch-thick strips, discarding stems and seeds. Season vegetables with sea salt and pepper. Serve eggplant topped with peppers and onion. Drizzle with remaining oil and season with sea salt.
* A CSA member sent us a recipe that makes prominent use of tomatillos. Well timed, because it also includes cilantro, an option among the herbs in this week's share:
Chicken with Tomatillo and Cilantro Sauce
1 pound tomatillos
3 serrano or jalapeno peppers
2 skinless chicken breasts, about 2 1/2 pounds
1 tablespoon olive oil
3 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1 teaspoon salt
1 medium onion, diced
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
Set broiler to medium-low. Place tomatillos in broiler and turn twice ever five minutes. Once the are blackened, remove from oven and puree in food processor until smooth. Set aside.
Set broiler to high. Broil chicken until brown, approximately 9 minutes, then turn and broil the other side.
Heat oil in pan and saute onion and garlic until golden and soft. Add tomatillo sauce and simmer 2 more minutes. Add cilantro and salt.
Place chicken in pan and simmer 20 minutes, until chicken in cooked through.
* We have been growing flowers on the farm, and although we have sold some at the farmstand and made them available to a few CSA members who have asked for cut flowers, they have mostly served to add beauty to our workplace. This week we'd like to invite all of you to cut a few stems while you are collecting your share. We'll provide scissors at the distribution stand-- If you're interested, ask us for details and we'll point you toward the flowers.