2011 CSA Week 7

The heat and dry conditions felt sudden last week, but we have since had a decent rainfall and time to come to terms with the fact that it is, after all, July. Before last week I had since March 1st ridden my bike to the farm every workday but one. Riding not without a significant tendency toward distraction and wobble, laden with soil from the farm and wearing a backpack over-filled with vegetables, singing top-40 radio hits in my head and sort of out loud, thinking of myself as a solitary, begrimed counterpoint to the spandex-clad pelotons that populate Dover roads, it could be obstinacy--a simple pleasure congealed to compulsion--that kept me uncovered on the occasionally cold and wet days of our extended spring, but whatever the reason you'll know that the single day I chose to drive was particularly inclement. I think of it now because it was the day in early April on which we planted the beets that were in the share this week and last. We worked that morning in a cold, unremitting rain, transplanting the beets one at a time into soil saturated by water enough that we could call it mud and watch it harden in the following days to a slick crust hardly conducive to the production of healthy plants. We dried ourselves at intervals by the woodstove and completed our work with a semi-useful stubbornness, and the beets eventually overcame their disadvantageous origin and found their way in the compacted ground. Their harvest during this first week of summer weather reminds me of their beginning, and of the fact that however jarring the sudden arrival of this season may feel it is inextricable from the season past, stitched to it by the work we began in April and continue today. We've followed a thread through sucking a mud and a cold day that would keep anyone off their bike, and here we are: a warm month and an abundant harvest.

The share this week:

Lettuce

Red Russian Kale

Rainbow Chard

Collard Greens

Red Beets

Napa or Green Cabbage

Summer Squash or Zucchini

Fennel

Green Beans

Sugar Snap Peas

Cinnamon Basil

Parsley

Spring Onions

Raspberries

Notes about the food:

* Parsley, which for the purpose of this week's photo shoot I have inexplicably situated on top of a toy wooden bus, is another one of my favorite things we grow. Although it is often relegated to the role of garnish, I insist there is no shame in enjoying it--stems and all--as a stand-alone snack or prominent component of any meal. But, because I suspect you are unlikely to share with me the lonely joy of eating a full bunch of parsley like it's a candy bar, I am including two recipes that are not shy about the fact that parsley is an intensely nutritious, intensely flavorful dark leafy green that deserves better than use as a neglected scrap alongside your hamburger. The first is from The Food Network, the second from a 2003 issue of Gourmet:

Parsley Salad

4 ounces Italian parsley

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

2 tablespoons lemon zest

6 tablespoons walnut oil

2 teaspoons dark sesame oil

1 teaspoon honey

salt and freshly ground pepper

3 tablespoons toasted sesame seeds

Wash and dry the parsley. Remove leaves from stems and set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the lemon juice, zest, walnut oil, sesame oil, honey, and salt and pepper, to taste. Add the parsley and sesame seeds and toss to combine. Allow the salad to sit for at least 30 minutes before serving so that the flavors to meld.

Beet and Parsley Salad

2 medium beets without greens

1 cup packed fresh flat-leaf parsley leaves

1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste

1/4 teaspoon sugar, or to taste

1/8 teaspoon black pepper

2 teaspoons extra-virgin olive oil

2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar

Trim and peel raw beets, then cut into very thin slices. (If you have one, a mandoline is the best kitchen tool for this.)

Toss beets with parsley, salt, sugar, and pepper in a serving bowl until sugar is dissolved. Add oil and toss to coat. Sprinkle vinegar on salad and toss again. Serve immediately.

* The first thing to know about fennel is that its taste is reminiscent of black licorice. When used as a garnish, the fronds will imbue any dish with this flavor, and a small amount of them will go a long way. The licorice taste is more subtle in the bulb, and will be affected by cooking. The bulb is versatile: it adds crunch when chopped into salad, it is easily sauteed or baked, and it is delicious when lightly glazed with olive oil and grilled. I hope you'll experiment freely. For more involved recipes that incorporate fennel, as well as beets, chard, and kale, consider the following soups:

Beet and Fennel Soup with Kefir

From Bon Appetit, January 2011

Note: Kefir is a drink that looks and tastes like yogurt, usually made from cow's milk or goats milk. It's in the dairy section. Can't find it? Substitute plain yogurt. I think this soup is also good served cold.

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 cup chopped onion

1 cup chopped fennel bulb

1 1/2 teaspoons fennel seeds

2 large beets, peeled, cut into 1/2-inch cubes

2 cups low-salt chicken broth

1 cup unflavored kefir

Additional unflavored kefir

Fennel fronds (for garnish)

Heat olive oil in large saucepan over medium heat. Add chopped onion, chopped fennel, and fennel seeds. Saute until vegetables soften, about 5 minutes. Add cubed beets and stir to coat. Add chicken broth and bring to boil. Cover; reduce heat to medium-low. Cook until beets are tender, 18-20 minutes. Puree soup in batches in blender. Return to same saucepan. Whisk in 1 cup unflavored kefir and season soup with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Rewarm soup, but don't boil.

Ladle soup into bowls. Drizzle with additional unflavored kefir; garnish with fennel fronds.

Barley Soup with Greens, Fennel, Lemon, and Dill

From Bon Appetit, February 2010

4 cups water

8 cups vegetable broth

1 cup pearl barley, rinsed

1 teaspoon fine sea salt, plus additional for sprinkling

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, plus additional for drizzling

3 cups chopped onion

8 cups coarsely chopped kale leaves (one 7-ounce bunch)

6 cups coarsely chopped chard leaves (one 7-ounce bunch)

5 cups spinach leaves (about 5 ounces)

3/4 cup sliced green onions

1/2 cup chopped fresh dill

1/2 cup chopped fresh fennel fronds

3 tablespoons chopped fresh mint

1 to 2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

1 7-ounce package feta cheese, crumbled

Bring 4 cups water, 2 cups broth, barley and 1 teaspoon sea salt to boil in a large pot. Reduce heat to medium-low, cover, and simmer until tender, about 40 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat 2 tablespoons oil in heavy skillet over medium-high heat. Add onions, sprinkle with sea salt, and saute until golden brown, stirring often, about 15 minutes. Add sauteed onions and remaining 6 cups broth to pot with barley.

Add kale and chard to soup. Simmer until greens are tender, about 15 minutes. Add spinach, green onions, dill, fennel fronds, and mint; simmer 5 minutes. Add 1 tablespoon lemon juice. Season soup with sea salt, pepper, and additional lemon juice, thinning with more broth, if desired.

Divide soup among bowls. Sprinkle each with feta cheese, drizzle with oil, and serve.

* We are introducing the summer squash and zucchini slowly. The plants have begun to produce enough for the CSA, but barely. Beginning this week we'll harvest everything and divide it among the shares, and as the summer continues the plants will produce more and they will be joined by a second succession of everything squash-related, so don't feel antagonized if you receive as few as 1 squash per share this week--more are on the way. I'll provide further notes about the varieties we are growing as their abundance increases.

Miscellaneous Notes:

* Have you been to the movies recently? I saw The Tree of Life last weekend, and I've hardly stopped thinking about it since. If you think that ours might be a world in which gain and loss are constant and simultaneous, and that any accounting of such things must consider equally the cosmically-scaled and the infinitesimal, you might enjoy this movie. Anyway, it's something we can talk about while you collect your vegetables, if you want.

2011 CSA Week 4

I have had other reasons to think about the cyclical nature of our work. (And this is why you read the blog, right? Recipes, tips about the food, and notes from my ongoing attempt to navigate the flow of time?) Last fall, when the CSA season ended and November slowed our work on the farm, I left the area and stayed away for the coldest parts of the year. (Joshua remained for a longer time, putting the farm to bed and ensuring that all would be orderly upon our return at the end of winter.) I packed my things and moved out of the house where I had been renting a room, knowing that I'd return to Dover and to the farm but unsure whether I would return to the same living situation. And so, when I did return after four months to the same room I had recently vacated, the psychological distance created by my departure was disproportionate to the time that had passed, and as I moved back in I had the disorienting sense of nostalgia for a living space I also felt I had never left. (I was happy to be back. The house was built in the second half of the eighteenth century, and the room I occupy is in the oldest part of the house. The ceiling is inches above my head and the wooden furnishings rattle at my step, so I often feel like a giant. It is likely that easy access to nutritional resources more complete than those widely available in 1760 has helped skew the height:ceiling proportions in my favor, but I like to walk between the dresser and the bed and think that with my stature and dignified beard I would have needed only to develop a calm yet assertive oratorical style to have been president of this colony back in the day.)

To leave the farm and then return to its routines resulted in a similar sense of disconnection from the time that had actually elapsed. When we began to harvest for the CSA this spring it felt as if no more than the usual week had passed since we last performed such work. The intervening months were compressed by the recurring nature of our tasks, and I had the sensation of occupying an elongated present across which my experience was spread thin, as if I had started harvesting turnips sometime last year and have yet to stop. The future, too, stretches to meet us. Last week we sowed 90 trays of seeds--a few of which are pictured above--that will grow to be the last crops we harvest this fall. As the season begins we are preparing for its completion. Of such shards and inklings of past and future are each of our days constructed, and we undertake our work always in the midst of their confluence.

The share this week:

Lettuce

Red Russian Kale

Rainbow Chard

Collard Greens

Kohlrabi

Sugar Snap Peas

Strawberries

Scallions

Oregano

Notes about the food:

* A CSA member reported to us that she recently enjoyed chard cooked with caramelized onions and olives, and she was kind to provide a recipe:

Chard with Caramelized Onions

1 large yellow onion, chopped

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 teaspoon brown sugar

1 bunch Swiss chard, rinsed and chopped

1/4 cup kalamata olives

2 tablespoons capers

1/2 teaspoon coarse sea salt, or to taste

freshly ground black pepper to taste

1 lemon, juiced

1. In a cast iron skillet, cook the onions in olive oil over medium-high heat until they begin to brown. Stir in brown sugar, and continue cooking for a few minutes.

2. When onions are brown and tender, stir in chard and olives. Cook until chard is slightly wilted. Stir in capers and salt, and continue cooking until chard is completely wilted, about 3 minutes. Season with black pepper and squeeze lemon over the top.

* Collard Greens are the latest addition to our springtime arsenal of leafy greens. I tend to cook them lightly and eat them while they are still moderately tough, but almost any recipe will recommend that you cook them for a longer time than the other greens we offer. They are especially fibrous in a way that is similar to the kohlrabi greens; I recommend pairing the two in either of the following recipes, both of which are easily varied to suit personal taste.

From Uncommon Fruits and Vegetables:

Braised Collards with Ginger and Chili Pepper

"Collards treated this way become chewy-soft, with an earthy freshness and pleasingly nippy bite."

1 pound collards, cleaned and cut in thin strips

2 cups chicken broth

3 tablespoons butter

3/4 cup chopped onion

1 teaspoon minced garlic

1 tablespoon fresh grated ginger

1 jalapeno, stem and seed removed, minced

black pepper to taste

1. Combine greens with broth in non-aluminum pot. Simmer, covered, until tender but not mushy. Timing will vary, but 35 minutes is average.

2. Heat 2 tablespoons butter in large skillet; stir in onion and garlic. Soften slightly over moderate heat. Add ginger and jalapeno and stir for a moment.

3. Add collards and stir over moderate heat until liquid has almost evaporated. Remove from the heat, stir in the remaining tablespoon butter and black pepper.

Note: You can substitute turnip greens in this dish, or combine a variety of greens for a particularly interesting effect: kale, kohlrabi, Swiss chard, mustard greens--any and all.

Spicy Collards

"Based on a dish that is part of a complex Ethiopian assembly, this relatively uncomplicated treatment demonstrates another useful approach to a favored Southern green. Serve the soft, aromatic leaves--which become more like spinach than cabbage when cooked this way--with a complimentary grain, vegetable, or egg dish for an unusual vegetarian meal."

1 1/4 pounds small-stemmed collard greens

2 tablespoons butter

2 tablespoons minced shallots

1/2 teaspoon grated fresh ginger

1/4 teaspoon cardamom

1/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/8 teaspoon nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste

1. Drop collards into a large pot of boiling, salted water. Boil until tender; timing varies, but about 15 minutes is average. Test often. Drain leaves well, then chop fine.

2. Heat 1 tablespoon butter in pan; stir in shallots and cook on moderately low heat about 3 minutes, until soft. Add ginger, cardamom, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt. Toss for a minute.

3. Add collards and stir 3 minutes, to season and warm thoroughly. Remove from heat and stir in remaining butter, cut in small pieces. Serve warm or at room temperature.

* As for the kohlrabi, it has had two weeks to grow since it was last in the share, and you'll see it has not wasted that time. Now you can do everything you did with kohlrabi previously, but you can do it bigger.

* I mentioned last week that of the varieties of kale that we offer I think Red Russian makes the best raw kale salad. The following recipe actually calls for lacinato kale, which was in the share last week, but is good with either. If you have both on hand, make the salad with some of each. (In the case of the Red Russian variety, always tear rather than chop it. The massaging action this provides will sweeten the leaves.) From In the Kitchen with a Good Appetite:

Raw Tuscan Kale Salad

1 bunch kale

2 thin slices country bread, or two handfuls good, homemade coarse breadcrumbs

1/2 garlic clove

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt, plus a pinch

1/4 cup grated pecorino cheese, plus additional for garnish

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus a pinch

freshly squeezed juice of one lemon

1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes

freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Slice (or tear) kale into 3/4-inch ribbons. you should have 4 to 5 cups. Place kale in a large bowl.

2. If using the bread, toast it until golden brown on both sides and dry throughout. Tear into small pieces and pulse in a food processor until the mixture forms coarse crumbs, or crumbs to your liking.

3. Using mortar and pestle or a knife, pound or mince the garlic and 1/4 teaspoon of salt into a paste. Transfer the garlic to a small bowl. Add cheese, 3 tablespoons oil, lemon juice, pinch of salt, pepper flakes, and black pepper and whisk to combine. Pour the dressing over the kale and toss very well. (The dressing will be thick and needs lots of tossing to cover the leaves.) Let the salad sit for 5 minutes, then serve topped with bread crumbs, additional cheese, and a drizzle of oil.

2011 CSA Week 2

While assembling this post I inadvertently defiled the formatting of most of the previous posts on this website, and it has taken me a long time to correct the mistake. So, this week, instead of a paragraph about the weather and other immediate concerns of the farm, I am typing this short apology and then removing myself from the presence of the computer. Which is too bad: There were certain to be sentences about tornado warnings, lightning that filled the evening sky like a strobe light, and rainfall that cleared the heat from the air and refreshed the plants in our fields. I woke the morning after the storm feeling rested, but with the sense that my dreams had been tumultuous in accordance with the tumult outdoors. Of this and more I'll squander the chance to write because of computer-induced fatigue. Massachusetts is rarely subject to anything tornado-related: Our thoughts are with those communities in our state more severely affected by the storm.

The share this week:

Lettuce
Spinach
Green Curly Kale
Rainbow Chard
Bok Choi
Red Komatsuna
Kohlrabi
Spring Onions or Scallions
Sugar Snap Peas

Notes about the food:

* Please note that at the bottom of every post there is a list of "labels." These are what I was editing and streamlining when I damaged the website. Each label is a link to every post that shares the label. This means, for example, that you can click kohlrabi below and you will be redirected to every post from this year or last year that includes a recipe for kohlrabi. If you are feeling baffled by a vegetable and want more information or cooking tips, follow those links!

* Kohlrabi is one of my favorite things we grow. It's a relative of broccoli, and you can think of the bulb as a swollen broccoli stem that is sweeter and more refreshing than you might expect. The greens, including the stems, can be cooked as a substitute for or alongside any of the greens we are distributing this spring, but I do think the bulbs are best eaten raw. As the plant matures in the ground, the bulb will continue to grow and the skin will become tough; when that happens it is best to peel the bulb, but at their current stage of growth I don't think peeling is necessary. Try this recipe for slaw that was published in The Washington Post in 2010:

Asian Kohlrabi Slaw

3 medium kohlrabi bulbs, grated
2 carrots, grated
2 scallions, white and light-green parts, chopped
Leaves from 10-15 stems of parsley, chopped
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated ginger
1 tablespoon sesame oil
4 tablespoons rice wine vinegar

1 tablespoon sweet red chili sauce

1 tablespoon Sriracha hot chili sauce

Combine kohlrabi, carrots, scallions and parsley in a large bowl. Whisk together the sesame oil, vinegar, sweet and hot chili sauces in a small bowl to form an emulsified vinaigrette. Drizzle the vinaigrette over the vegetables and toss to combine. Serve chilled or at room temperature.

For a variation, mix the kohlrabi slaw with soba noodles, blanched snap peas, and broccoli florets.

*Last week I mentioned that the bok choi and red komatsuna make an appealing stir-fry when sauteed together. Here is how I've been doing it:

Chop 1 spring onion or the white and light-green parts of 2-3 scallions, and saute in 1-2 tablespoons of olive oil. Chop the bok choi and komatsuna, separating the stalks and the leaves. Add the stalks when the onion or scallions have been in the oil for a few minutes, and stir constantly. If you want additional greens (I usually do), add some chopped kale or kohlrabi leaves shortly after the stalks; when those greens have begun to wilt, add the leaves of the choi and komatsuna. These will cook down fast; I add a handful or two of peanuts as they do, and a few dashes of sesame oil just before taking the pan off the heat. I serve these stir-fried greens alongside brown rice --to which I add a dash of soy sauce and a dash of rice wine vinegar once it is cooked--and some spears of uncooked asparagus.

* We are extremely happy with the rainbow chard. It's a lovely plant in the field, and our beds of it are healthy beyond expectation. Try this recipe from Farmer John's Cookbook:

Mediterranean Swiss Chard

1/4 cup olive oil
1/2 cup thinly sliced onion
1 clove garlic, minced
1 bunch swiss chard, coarsely chopped (leaves and stems)
1/3 cup raisins
1/4 cup pine nuts, toasted
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed lemon juice
salt
pepper

Heat 3 Tablespoons of the oil in a large skillet. Add the onion; cook, stirring occasionally, until golden. Stir in the garlic and cook 1 minute more. Add the chard in batches, adding more as each batch wilts. (The only water you'll need is the water clinging to the leaves from rinsing.) Keep the pan covered between batches. When all the chard is added and the leaves are wilted, stir in the raisins, pine nuts, lemon juice and the remaining 1 tablespoon of oil. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

CSA Week 19

I have been thinking recently of the ways in which humans have an adversarial relationship with the conditions that surround them. We insulate ourselves against the cold, we expose ourselves against the heat, and we create light against the dark. We constantly work to make a sphere of our own influence against what the world offers, and when we are unsuccessful, or when the conditions are insurmountable, we are uncomfortable. I appreciate farming in New England because we are regularly forced to work in a variety of the conditions that antagonize us, without recourse to full shelter when it is raining, or cold, or hot. We experience the world as a world relatively unencumbered by our efforts to modify it. On mornings such as this morning we experience rain as rain--that which wets the ground and those things upon it--and in it we are damp things, working. It is a privilege to know what it is to be wet or cold, and to know that those conditions can be fled when the work day is over, and we are grateful for it. There is a poem I like by Wendell Berry (a guy whose work I avoided for a while, for irrational reasons); I think of it in relation to this premise, and I apply it to a lot of things in life:

To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.

To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,

and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings.

Try it in the most basic sense: leave the lights off as the day becomes dark so that you may know evening as evening and night as night and neither as things electrically illuminated; spend one minute being cold in the outdoors on a winter morning before putting on your coat, and for one minute know winter as winter. The ability to experience the world in a passive way without fully relinquishing our combative relationship with our surroundings--to know that we can be dark or cold and can then modify our environment to suit our comfort--is a special thing.

What was I saying? Oh--we harvested the share this morning in the dim light of a late dawn, in the spitting rain of a cold autumn day. It was fine.

Lettuce

Swiss Chard

Radicchio

Carrots

Radishes

Hot Peppers

Sweet Peppers

Eggplant

Heirloom Tomatoes

Sweet Potatoes

Leeks

Parsley

Onions

Garlic

Husk Cherries

You-Pick Tomatillos, if you want them

*If you are familiar with radicchio, you know that it usually has the appearance of a tightly packed head that is the size of baseball or softball and is crisp like a cabbage. We've harvested some of the plants slightly before that stage because we have found that some of them are bolting (going to seed) before the head is fully formed. What we're offering, then, are beautifully colored heads of radicchio that are akin to lettuce in terms of texture and firmness. They still have the distinct bittersweet flavor of mature radicchio, and are excellent cooked as well as in salads. Two recipes with prefatory by Elizabeth Schneider, from Uncommon Fruits and Vegetables:

Salad of Radicchio, Red Pepper, and Avocado

"Brilliant-colored, this refreshing salad of bitter radicchio, crisp red bell pepper, and creamy avocado spotlights radicchio's unique qualities."

2 small heads radicchio (about 1/2 pound)

2 medium red bell peppers

1 medium avocado

2 Tbsp lime juice

1/4 tsp salt, or to taste

Pepper to taste

4 Tbsp olive oil

1. Core, rinse and thoroughly dry radicchio. Cut into bit-sized pieces. Stem and seed peppers, then cut into thin julienne strips. Quarter and peel avocado, then cut across into thin slices or dice. Combine all in a serving bowl.

2. Blend lime juice, salt, and pepper. Gradually beat in oil. Pour over the salad and toss gently to coat the leaves. Serve.

Spaghetti with Radicchio, Anchovies, and Garlic

"When I first saw cooked radicchio, I was taken aback: where was the gorgeous garnet leaf with its sturdy crispness? But after a few tastes I began to understand the subtle changes the escarole-like leaf underwent when subjected to heat: an intensification of flavor and broadening of range to reveal its bitter-to-mellow-to-sweet spectrum. Although its brilliant red is lost once sauteed, radicchio gains an altogether new taste coloring."

1 pound spaghetti

1/3 cup full-flavored olive oil

2-3 tsp finely minced garlic, to taste

1 pound radicchio

2-ounce can anchovies in olive oil, sliced (do not discard oil)

2 Tbsp minced chive

1/4 cup minced flat-leaf parsley

Black pepper to taste

1 cup finely grated provolone

1. Drop spaghetti into a large kettle of well-salted boiling water; stir until water returns to a boil. Cook until just barely tender

2. Meanwhile, heat oil in a large skillet; stir in garlic; cook over moderately low heat until just golden. Add radicchio and toss for a few minutes over high heat, until just wilted.

3. Drain pasta and toss in a heated bowl with the anchovies and oil. Add radicchio, chives, parsley, and plenty of pepper and toss well. Add half the cheese and toss. Serve at once with the remaining cheese on the side.

*When preparing the leeks, let's not stray from the standards, especially when they are fully appropriate for autumn:

Potato and Leek Soup

The white and pale green part of 2 large leeks, split lengthwise, washed well, and chopped

1 Tbsp unsalted butter

1 1/2 cups water

1 cup chicken broth

1 pound potatoes

2 Tbsp minced fresh parsley leaves or

In a large heavy saucepan cook the leeks in the butter with salt and pepper to taste, covered, over moderately low heat, stirring occasionally, 8 to 10 minutes, or until they are soft but not browned. Add the water, the broth, and the potatoes (cut into 1/2-inch pieces), and simmer the mixture, covered, for 20 minutes, or until the potatoes are tender. In a blender puree 1 cup of the soup, stir the puree into the remaining soup with the parsley, and season the soup with salt and pepper.

Or let's stray slightly, and incorporate the sweet potatoes. Like the recipe above, this is from Gourmet Magazine via Epicurious.

Sweet Potato-Leek Pancakes

1 large russet potato, grated

2 cups coarsely grated red-skinned sweet potato

1 leek, halved lengthwise, thinly sliced crosswise (white and pale green parts only, about 1 1/4 cup)

1/4 cup all purpose flour

1 large egg

1 tsp salt

1/2 tsp ground black pepper

1/2 tsp ground nutmeg

5 Tbsp vegetable oil

Applesauce

Sour Cream

Preheat oven to 275. Mix first 8 ingredients in a large bowl to blend. Heat 2 Tbsp of oil in a large nonstick skillet over medium heat. Working in batches, drop sweet potato mixture by 1/4 cupfuls onto skillet. Using spatula, gently flatten each mound to a 3 1/2-inch diameter round. Cook pancakes until brown and cooked through, about 3 minutes per side. Transfer pancakes to baking sheet and place in oven to keep warm. Repeat with remaining batter, adding more oil to skillet as needed. Transfer pancakes to plates. Serve with applesauce and sour cream.

*We couldn't be happier with the Swiss Chard. The leaves are large and undamaged by insects, and their colors are deep and full. We think they make beautiful bunches, and we hope you've been enjoying the abundance. A CSA member shared this recipe with us:

Sweet and Sour Swiss Chard

1 pound swiss chard (multiple colors preferred)

1 medium onion (diced)

1/4 cup dried cranberries or raisins

2 cloves garlic (minced)

3 Tbsp white or cider vinegar

1 1/2 tsp sugar

salt and pepper to taste

Rinse chard, pat dry, and remove stems. Chop stems diagonally into small pieces. Stack leaves, roll up, and slice in 1-inch strips; keep separate from stems. Set aside.

In deep saucepan saute onion in 2 tsp olive oil over medium heat until softened, about 5 minutes.

Add remaining ingredients along with chard stems, cover and cook for 8 minutes. Place chopped leaves on top of the mixture (do not stir in), cover and cook another 2 minutes. Remove from heat, stir and serve.

CSA Week 18

To work the same five acres of land for a full season is to cultivate a sort of stillness. Not a stillness that is to be confused with idleness, but a stillness that is the result of the fact that during our working lives we rarely stray from this small piece of land, and of the fact that while here our efforts are concentrated on plants and soil that are never farther from us than a short walk, and are usually within arm's-reach. Plants and soil are by nature still things; they change constantly but slowly enough that we must tend them with patience, caring for them over the course of months as if we are rooted to the same spot as they. This has been on my mind because I had an unusually social weekend, first with an assortment of friends in the Pioneer Valley and then on the farm of a friend outside of New Haven, Connecticut. For more than two days I was in motion between people and places, and I was excited and happy and my attention was lifted from the ground and spread to several simultaneous points, and at the end of each day I was exhausted. This is a good thing, but it was a jarring contrast to the careful and stationary attention the farm requires. My heart moves slowly between states of being, and the varieties of stillness and motion have been on my mind as I acclimate again to the careful and focused pace of the farm.

Does that make sense? I probably should not use this blog to pursue trains-of-thought about potentially vague subjects. Until I don't, let's agree to practice a stillness that is neither idle nor vacant. Let's lie down with the cat, or watch the sky, or grow a plant, or sit down and carefully eat an array of vegetables. To that end, here is what's in the share this week:

Swiss Chard
Lacinato Kale
Heirloom Tomatoes
Sungold Cherry Tomatoes (while supplies last!)
Eggplant
Red Beets
Hot Peppers
Sweet Peppers
Onions
Garlic
Cilantro
Husk Cherries
You-Pick Tomatillos, if you want them

*Eggplant can be delicious when battered and fried. Here is a recipe that you can use as a template, but be creative when making the batter. Eggs can be beaten and used for some of the liquid, and nutritional yeast is a good addition if you have it.
1 medium eggplant, trimmed, unpeeled, and sliced into uniformly thin strips
Olive oil for frying
3/4 Tbsp sea salt
8 oz. bottled soda water
3/4 cup + 1 Tbsp all-purpose flour

Prepare eggplant: Put slices in a bowl, add 1/2 Tbsp salt, and let sit 20-25 minutes. Pour off liquid before dipping in batter.

Make the batter: Pour the soda into a bowl, stir in flour 1/4 Tbsp salt slowly, using a whisk or fork to mix.

Fry: Bring oil to high heat. Coat eggplant in the batter, use fork to place pieces in the oil, and fry 5-6 minutes, until golden brown on both sides and batter puffs up. Drain on absorbent paper towel just long enough to remove excess oil. Serve hot.

*Sadie Miller sent a recipe that I've been saving for a time when we had both kale and chard, and that time is now. The recipe calls for only one of the greens, but I think you should use a little of both. It also includes garlic and cilantro, both in this week's share. (If you see Sadie, by the way, and you probably won't because she lives in Belchertown, congratulate her--she was recently engaged to be married.)

Giant Chipotle White Beans

1 pound of large, dried white beans (corona, giant limas, gigantes, or any giant white bean you can find), rinsed, picked over and soaked for up to 24 hours

Chipotle-tomato sauce:
2 Tbsp extra-virgin olive oil
2 big pinches of red pepper flakes
2 pinches salt
1 large clove garlic, chopped
1 14-ounce can crushed tomatoes
1 Tbsp fresh oregano leaves
1 1/2 Tbsp adobo sauce from a can of chipotle peppers

Cilantro Pesto
1 medium clove garlic
1/3 cup fresh cilantro
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil
big pinch salt
2/3 cup kale or chard, washed, de-stemmed, and finely chopped
1 cup queso fresco or feta cheese (or a combination of the two)
1 1/2 cup whole-grain bread crumbs, toasted in a skillet with a Tbsp of olive oil

Drain and rinse the beans after their overnight soak. Then place them in a large saucepan and cover with an inch or two of water. Bring to a boil and simmer until the beans are cooked through and just tender. This can take anywhere from an hour to two hours (potentially more) depending on your beans, but do your best to avoid overcooking. Remove from heat, salt the beans (still in bean broth) with about a tablespoon of salt--enough that the bean liquid is tasty but on the salty side. Let the beans sit like this for ten minutes or so before draining and setting the beans aside.

In the meantime, make your tomato sauce. Place the 2 Tbsp olive oil, red pepper flakes, couple pinches of salt, and chopped garlic into a cold medium saucepan. Stir while you heat the saucepan over medium-high heat. Saute just 45 seconds or so until everything is fragrant--you don't want the garlic to brown. Stir in the tomatoes and the fresh oregano and heat to a gentle simmer, this takes just a couple minutes. Remove from heat and stir in the adobo sauce--carefully take a taste...If the sauce needs more salt add it now. More chipotle flavor? Go for it.

Make the cilantro pesto by combining the clove of garlic and cilantro in a food processor. Pulse while you drizzle in the olive oil. Season with a bit of salt and set aside.

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. In a 9x13 baking pan (or large oven-proof casserole/dutch oven) toss the beans with the tomato sauce and the greens. Sprinkle with the cheese and bake in the top third of the oven for roughly 25 (if you're using queso fresco) to 40 minutes. I look for cheese to start browning and any visible beans to get a bit crusty. Remove from oven and let sit for about ten minutes. Top the beans with the breadcrumbs and just before serving drizzle with the cilantro pesto.

*A CSA member actually asked us to post more pictures of ourselves. I'm complying because I'd forgotten how adorable your farmers were back in June: