2011 CSA Week 21

I spent much of last week at a low point on the sine wave of my moodiness, a situation exacerbated by the imminent end of our growing season and the increasingly urgent sense that time is short. But it's okay, we have known since the CSA season began that the weeks would pass quickly, and the fact that time's passage has conformed to our expectations should be no cause for distress; this week I have been feeling better, and I have been enjoying the September 1984 issue of National Geographic.

"Dallas! Keeping the Dream Alive" is not relevant to our current experience, but there is an article set in Iceland and an article set in Oklahoma, the state in which Joshua and I sat in a coffee shop last January and composed the first of a few off-season emails to our returning CSA members. There are two articles related to farming: One that investigates issues of erosion and topsoil conservation, and another about patterns mowed into massive swaths of mono-crop agriculture, imperceptible from the ground but eye-catching if you are in an airplane above the Midwest. The first is of greater pertinence to our work at Dover Farm.

Each of those articles, though, is an ancillary pleasure to "Man and Manatee," which I must have missed when I was four years old, and is the reason the magazine captured my attention today. That strange lump next to the scuba diver is alive! It lives in the ocean, and is extremely gentle.

The share this week:

Lettuce

Lacinato Kale

Arugula

Bok Choi

Cabbage

Potatoes

Parsnips

Leeks

Sage or Dill or Oregano

Notes about the food:

* At this time of year we harvest those of our crops that have been longest in the ground. Many things we grow have a relatively short life-span in the field--lettuce, for example, and other salad greens, grow quickly enough that we can plant them, harvest them, and plant them again throughout the spring, summer, and fall--but some vegetables require the duration of the season to mature. Leeks were the first seeds we sowed this season, on the last day of February, when the greenhouse was surrounded by snow, and they now are one of the last things we'll harvest. Unlike crops we grow in succession, we have tended the leeks over the course of many months; to harvest and eat them is an event rarer than others on the farm, and it feels to us like the satisfying culmination of a season-long project.

Little Cakes of Leeks and Potatoes

5 medium potatoes

2 large leeks

4 tablespoons butter

scant 1/2 cup milk

vegetable or peanut oil for shallow-frying

Boil potatoes in deep, salted water. Trim and rinse the leeks, discarding the dark outer leaves, and slice them thinly. Melt the butter in a shallow pan and cook the leeks in it over low heat, stirring from time to time, until they are soft and melting; they should be ready in twenty minutes or so. If they color they will turn bitter, so cover them with a lid or a piece of wax paper.

Bring the milk to a boil in a small saucepan, then switch off the heat. When the potatoes are tender, drain them, put them back on the heat for a minute, covered with a lid or a kitchen towel, to dry out, then mash them with a potato masher, pouring in the warm milk as you go. You are after a thick mash, not a sloppy one, so stop adding milk when the consistency is thick enough to make into patties. Stir in the leeks and season generously.

When the mixture is cool enough to roll, shape it into rough patties. Don't be tempted to make them perfectly smooth.; they will be all the more interesting if they are a little rough.

Heat some oil in a shallow pan. When it is hot, slide in the patties, not too close together, and let them color lightly on both sides. They will cook quite quickly, about three or four minutes on each side. Lift the patties out with a spatula and drain briefly on paper towels.

Chicken with Leeks and Lemon

2 tablespoons olive oil

8 chicken thighs

4 medium leeks

A glass of dry vermouth

Juice and zest of 1 lemon

2 cups chicken stock

1 small bunch parsley

In a large casserole, warm the olive oil over medium heat. Add the chicken pieces, skin side down, and cook until pale gold in color. Wash the leeks thoroughly, shake them dry, then cut them into pieces the length of a wine cork. Lift the chicken out of the pan and add the leeks. Cover and let them cook gently until they are soft but relatively uncolored. Whatever happens, they should not brown. Once they start to soften, add the vermouth, the zest and juice of the lemon, and the chicken stock. Bring to a boil, return the chicken and its juices to the pan, season with salt and pepper, then cover and simmer for about twenty minutes.

Chop the parsley, taste the sauce for seasoning, and stir the parsley in.

* I have been enjoying a book called Tender: A Cook and His Vegetable Patch by Nigel Slater. The book itself is a satisfying shape and weight, it includes numerous recipes, it is illustrated with photographs of vegetables at their earthy best, and the whole package is somehow extremely British. It's from that book that I transcribed the leek recipes above, and Parsnips, another of our crops that has occupied the same piece of ground for most of the season (we sowed the seeds directly to the field in April), is another of the vegetables prominently featured. I appreciate the description that begins the parsnip chapter:

The soil-encrusted rood, gnarled like the bark of an old tree, hides a creamy flesh that is both earthy and sweet. Snapped it half, it smells of freshly dug ground. Roasted in butter, it smells of warm heather honey.

You'll remember that we offered parsnips in one share during the month of August. The roots were well-sized at that time, and they tasted good, but our reason for harvesting them was strictly to thin the planting and give the remaining parsnips room to grow. Compare the flavor of these to those harvested at the end of summer; the cooler days and cold nights since then will have begun to convert the vegetable's starch to sugar, and you can expect a sweeter result in the kitchen.

Roast Parsnips with Sesame and Honey

2 pounds parsnips

a little peanut oil

a little rosemary

2 tablespoons sesame seeds

For the dressing:

4 level tablespoons honey

3 tablespoons sherry vinegar

3 tablespoons peanut oil

Generous splash sesame oil

Preheat the oven to 350. Bring a pan of water to a boil. Cut parsnips in half lengthwise, and then into fat chunks. When the water boils, lower them in and simmer for ten minutes, until they show early signs of tenderness. Remove from the heat and drain.

Pour a glug of oil into a roasting pan, add the drained parsnips, and toss them with sea salt, pepper, and some chopped needles of rosemary. A tablespoon or so will do. Roast for about forty minutes, turning them in the pan occasionally, so that they end up with a pale, golden crust on all sides. In a dry, shallow pan, lightly brown the sesame seeds. They will take barely a minute or so to color.

Put the honey into a small bowl and whisk in the vinegar, peanut oil, and sesame oil with a small grinding of salt and black pepper. Remove the parsnips from the oven and immediately toss them in the honey dressing, scattering over the toasted sesame seeds as you go.

Parsnips Baked with Cheese

1 large onion

5 tablespoons butter

2 large parsnips

Leaves from 3 or 4 sprigs of thyme

3 1/2 ounces cheese, Gruyere or Cornish Yarg

Scant 1/2 cup vegetable stock

Preheat the oven to 400. Peel the onion and cut it into paper-thin rings. Melt half the butter in a shallow ovenproof pan and gently fry the onion until soft and translucent. Stop before it colors.

Slice parsnips into fine disks. I like to make them so think you can almost read through them. Remove the onion from the pan, place a layer or two of parsnips in it, brush with more melted butter and scatter over salt, pepper, some of the thyme, and a little of the cheese. Do this twice more, ending with cheese. Pour over the stock.

Cover with lightly buttered wax paper or aluminum foil, then place on a high rack in the oven and bake for twenty-five to thirty minutes. Remove the paper and test the parsnips with a sharp knife; it should glide in effortlessly. Return to the oven, uncovered, for about ten minutes to brown. Serve straight from the pan.

2011 CSA Week 14

We went to sleep on Saturday night expecting a hurricane and we woke Sunday morning to a tropical storm. Our scant meteorological training doesn't allow us to parse the difference, but through the window it had the appearance of nothing more than a very blustery day, and we felt lucky that our worst expectations were not met. We spent a pleasant day indoors and at night I enjoyed using a headlamp to navigate my room. And this morning, although my bike ride to the farm was significantly re-routed by fallen trees, the air was clear and lovely, blown clean by the weather, and we returned to a farm that showed few effects of the tumult. We made note of the standing water in many of the fields, we replanted some broccoli and cauliflower plants that had been uprooted and laid on their sides, and we then continued with work as we would on any Monday. The only casualty has been my ability to include pictures alongside what is written here, but I'll add them as soon as my computer access is no longer limited by power outages. It may take a few days, but check back if you want to see onions drying in the greenhouse, or what a few quarts of cherry tomatoes look like close-up. We hope that you and your family weathered the day safely, and that you have experienced no greater storm-related inconvenience than this small delay.

The share this week:

Red Beets
Carrots or Parsnips
Tomatoes
Sweet Peppers
Hot Peppers
Eggplant
Edamame
Italian Basil
Storage Onions
Sweet Corn

Notes about the food:

* For a long time I didn't enjoy working with tomato plants. They are fragile and susceptible to disease and they require extensive support in order to remain upright, and I felt that maintaining a large crop of them was picky, delicate work fraught with potential failure. I still think those things are true, but as I've spent more time working with tomatoes my confidence has improved, and as I become less reluctant to involve myself with the things I have become increasingly convinced that they are always worth the effort.

Our tomato plants were certainly battered by yesterday's weather, but despite my ongoing concerns about their fragility they fared better than we might have expected. Which is to say, they are still alive. Their stems were not snapped in the wind, and their fruit was not blown to the ground. They were not helped, though, by the rain: The greatest current threat to their longevity is the consistent precipitation that has kept their soil wet. In it, they show signs of a suffering that is probably irreversible, and our best hope is that it will be prolonged by as many warm and dry days as we can get. Until they succumb, we hope that you'll enjoy the continuing abundance of tomatoes, and consider each week that does not bring their complete demise a success.

Farro Pasta with Tomato Vinaigrette

2 garlic cloves, peeled
salt
2 1/2 teaspoons red-wine vinegar
1 1/2 pounds ripe tomatoes (heirlooms, Roma or cherry)
1/2 cup torn basil leaves
1 pound farro or whole-wheat tagliatelle or spaghetti
1/3 cup extra-virgin olive oil, plus extra as needed

Pound garlic, with a pinch of salt, into smooth paste with mortar and pestle. Stir in vinegar.

Core tomatoes and cut in 1/2-inch dice. If using cherry tomatoes, remove stems and quarter, or halve if small. In a large bowl, toss tomatoes with vinegar-garlic mixture and half the basil. Cover and marinate 15-20 minutes.

Meanwhile bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add pasta and cook until al dente, about 7-10 minutes. Reserve 1 cup cooking liquid and then drain well.

Add oil to tomatoes, and season to taste with salt. Toss pasta with tomato vinaigrette. Stretch sauce with a few tablespoons reserved cooking liquid until sauce turns juicy and coats the noodles. Taste and, if desired, add salt and an extra splash of oil or vinegar. Toss in remaining basil leaves. Serve warm or at room temperature.

* That recipe was printed in The Wall Street Journal, the Sunday food section of which I continue to stumble across and then cite on this website. This edition was a particularly fortuitous section of newspaper to find on the ground because it included an article about basil, and we have fielded a lot of questions recently about how to best store basil. I'll quote the article on that point, and I'll transcribe one of the several recipes it provides:

"Basil is happiest when it's treated like a delicate hothouse flower. As soon as you get your bunch home, trim about 1/2 inch off the stems, put the basil in a glass of cold water and put a plastic bag over the setup. Leaving plenty of air around the basil leaves, tie the bag closed around the glass with twine or a rubber band and refrigerate; change the water daily. Encased in it's greenhouse, really fresh basil will keep for five days or more. Alternatively, you can wrap the trimmed stems in a wet paper towel and store the basil in a sealed plastic bag in the refrigerator. For long-term storage, make a thick puree of basil and olive oil and freeze the almost-pesto in an ice-cube tray. When the basil is solid, pop the cubes and seal them in airtight plastic bags."

Basil, Mozzarella and Plum Salad

Bring a small pot of salted water to a boil. Drop in 1/3 cup packed basil leaves, cook for 30 seconds, then drain and run under cold water to cool. Squeeze as much water as possible from the leaves, then chop finely. Put basil and 1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil in food processor, add pinch of salt and process until well blended. Let rest 15 minutes, then pour through a fine-mesh strainer. Discard the solids and reserve the oil.

Toss 2 handfuls mixed salad greens with 1 tablespoon basil oil, salt and pepper, and divide among 4 plates. Slice 8 basil leaves and toss with 1/2 pound fresh mozzarella, cubed, 2 black plums, pitted and cubed, 1/2 jalapeno pepper, finely chopped, the juice of 1/2 lime and 2 tablespoons of the basil oil. (Refrigerate remaining oil for another use.) Season to taste with salt, pepper, and lime juice and spoon equal amounts of the mozzarella mixture over the greens.

* Edamame are green soybeans, and you'll receive them on the plant. To prepare, simply remove the pods from the stem and steam them until they are dark green, 10-20 minutes. For a snack or hors d'oeuvre season the pods with salt and fresh lemon juice and suck the beans from the pods directly into your mouth. (They are also good seasoned with soy sauce.) To incorporate as part of another dish, simply squeeze the beans from the pod once they are steamed.

* You'll certainly hear more from us about parsnips, so for now I'll mention them only in the context of a recipe that a CSA member recently shared. The timing is good, because this salad pairs them with beets, also in today's share:

Shredded Parsnip and Beet Salad in Pineapple Vinaigrette

For the pineapple dressing, put in the blender:

1 15 oz can of pineapple chunks, or 2 cups pineapple juice
1/2 cup red wine vinegar
1/4 cup grapeseed or olive oil
2 tablespoons maple syrup or agave or honey
1 clove garlic, minced
1/4 teaspoon salt

For the salad:

1 pound beets peeled and shredded (best shredded in a food processor)
1 pound parsnips peeled and shredded (best shredded in a food processor)
1/2 cup coarsely chopped mint

Mix the salad and dressing with tongs. Refrigerate 30 minutes before serving.