Archive for September, 2011

September 29, 2011

Greens in soupland

We moved into our house only a few months after our son was born. He was nursing and in addition to feeling elated, frazzled and very tired, I was hungry. All the time.

One of the things I was hungry for, I discovered, was fresh raw kale from my neighbor’s garden. She’d bring out a bag and beg me to fill it from one of her elbow-height kale plants.

The first time I accepted her offer I felt like I was imposing. But tearing at the base of the leaves, I settled into her generosity and munched as I tucked away handfuls for later, sometimes folding whole leaves into my mouth. Oh! Was there ever something in those leaves my nursing body needed. Maybe vitamin A, C or K, calcium or potassium. Kale is high in all of these, and more. Or maybe I was just sleep deprived.

It’s funny how the eating habits in our culture have changed. I don’t think I’d heard of kale or chard before I was in my thirties. And collards registered as nothing more than a fuzzy detail I might have recalled from a novel set in the old South. My father-in-law, who worked in the grocery business for many years, says back in the day he prided himself in his PLU number recall capability. Since he knew the code for every variety of produce in the store, I imagine all the tired parent customers – passels of hungry kids in their shopping carts – gravitating toward his checkout line.

Today, he says, he wouldn’t be able to keep up with all the different types of produce. No one can anymore. In the greens aisle at the co-op the other day I saw two varieties of kale, chard, dandelion greens and collards. And there are a slew of Asian greens to try, falling on a continuum between salad and sauté greens -  from mizuna and tatsoi to bok choi and napa cabbage.

Then there’s my new favorite, broccoli raab. This bunch appeared in our weekly box in July. As of this week we have another. This time the raw leaves have a bitter edge. This doesn’t stop me from eating them raw (bitter isn’t bad in my book) but it does make me think they’re a suitable substitute for the soup I’m sharing with you today. (Chie will return with original recipes in a few weeks.)

For those of you who follow the blog on our Facebook page, think of today as a study in substitutions. I included kale and white beans on your shopping list. Those are the official ingredients for this comforting soup. But in the interest of using local, available produce, this time I used our gorgeous broccoli raab and these cranberry beans, both grown by Calliope Farm. Why make an extra trip to the store when I have these available?

Garlicky Broth with Kale and Sweet Potatoes

from the October 2000 issue of Natural Health magazine

I received a typed copy of this recipe  several years ago from my friend, Brooke (you can also find it here).
At the top she wrote, “First, you must prepare your immune system for a boost – the likes of which it has never seen before.”
Yes, indeed. This recipe calls for a lot of garlic. The first several times I made it,  I couldn’t bring myself to put more than half of what the recipe calls for. But the broth is wonderful and mellow with the whole lot of it. I promise.

2 ½ tsp olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 ½ tsp dried Italian seasoning
6 cups vegetable broth or combination of bean cooking liquid and water
3 cups cannellini beans, cooked and drained (reserve cooking liquid)
1 lb sweet potatoes, scrubbed and diced
4 oz kale or other hearty green, tough stems removed, leaves chopped coarsely (about 4 cups)
12 medium garlic cloves, minced
salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil in soup pot over medium heat. Add onion and seasoning. Sauté until onion is soft and golden, about 6 minutes.

Stir in broth, beans, potatoes and kale.
For this batch I shelled and cooked fresh cranberry beans and substituted broccoli raab for the kale. I also used the reserved cooking liquid for the broth and made up the difference with water.

Bring just to a boil. Reduce heat to low and simmer for 10 minutes.

Add garlic to simmering soup base.

I halve garlic cloves and press with the skin on.

Simmer until potatoes and greens are tender, 15 to 20 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

September 22, 2011

Fennel into fall

Who would have thought she’d leave so gently? Summer is sashaying away, the flirt, giving us a wink over her shoulder. It looks like we’ll step over Fall’s threshold tomorrow with the strings of our sunhats still caught in her screen door.

With our faces still lifted to the sky (sometimes, that morning mist has been stubborn) it’s a good time to talk about fennel. After all, Prometheus used a stalk of it to steal fire from the sun. Just like us: skimming along on some contraband rays.

Soon every day will be like it was on Monday. I was indulging in a rare five-hour writing day. It was a good, overcast day for something like that. When I shuffled into the kitchen around noon, I was pleased to see that it was sunny outside. Really sunny. So I thought I’d take a bona fide lunch break and eat out on the deck before heading back up to my desk.

Silly me. Fall is fickle and will have none of my plans. By the time the peach and zucchini were sliced and the hummus in a dish, the sun had gone back behind the clouds. Ah, well.

The change of season doesn’t have to be accompanied by a sigh of regret (though this year, for some reason it’s harder for me than usual). We get to engage in those swooning sorts of sighs that come with the discovery of a new apple variety or the first winter squash of the season. Baskets of Washington-grown apples, from this year, are starting to appear at the food co-op. Soon I’ll get to pick our neighbor’s apples and turn them into sauce. And I’m already testing pears at the market, trying to gauge how many days it will be until they’re perfectly ripe.

But fruits aren’t the only new arrivals. There are crates of quiet, helpful vegetables on display. The staples. Potatoes, onions, garlic. And these layered, elliptical roots that are making their way into my kitchen more and more every year. These fire scepter anchors.

Fennel bulbs.

A few years ago, when I started receiving them in our weekly box, I didn’t really know what to do. I’m not a big fan of anise, and fennel’s flavor, though milder, is in the same family. I fretted over them as they grew rubbery in the bottom drawer of the fridge then shrugged my guilty shoulders as I slipped the too-far-gone ones into the compost bin.

Then I read that you can think of your fennel bulb as a substitute for an onion. Da-ding!

Now I look forward to having them around so I can slice and sauté them with garlic for a soup base. It gives the soup a faint licorice undertone that’s more comforting than I thought it would be.

Chie tells me she likes them best grated or sliced raw, which is how you’ll find them in this lovely salad.

It may be the beginning of fall, but we don’t have to give up on fresh local salads just yet.

Late Summer Salad
by Chie

This sweet, fragrant root adds a nice touch to so many dishes. It can be roasted, braised, grilled, sliced or
grated raw into salads or stewed in soups. Here is a light and simple salad that brings out each flavor:
nutty arugula, fragrant and crunchy fennel, juicy pear.

 1-2 bunches arugula, washed, dried and stemmed
1 fennel bulb, sliced thin
1 pear (Bartlet, Star Crimson, Orca, Comice), sliced thin
Pecorino Romano, shaved
1-2 lemons
extra virgin olive oil
sea salt
freshly ground black pepper

Toss the arugula and fennel in a medium bowl with the lemon juice, extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper.

Arrange on salad plates.

Slice pears and arrange on top of the greens and fennel. For extra flair, grill pear halves and slice before adding.
When choosing pears, make sure they’re soft when gentle pressure is applied.
Try Star Krimson and Bartlet. Both are grown by Brownfield Orchards and are available at the Co-op.

Add a few slices of shaved Pecorino to each plate and indulge.

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September 19, 2011

Apples and changes

We’re inviting you back on Thursday to check out our new format. Chie and I will join forces and bring you one mouthwatering, all-inclusive post every week.

Until then, let me content you with this basket of fruits from the Farmers Market. White peaches and Chehalis apples. You haven’t heard of Chehalis apples? They were developed in their namesake city, just down the road, and grown right here in Olympia. They taste like the mellow, smiley grandchild of Granny Smith. The one who loves to hum and always has a few strands of grass stuck to her sweater.

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September 15, 2011

Julienne soup

by Chie

Savoy cabbage from Sunbreak Farm.

I’d been wanting to make my own sauerkraut for a long time and here was a great opportunity: our dear neighbors gave us a couple of heads of green cabbage from the farmers market the other day. A sweet gift from sweet and thoughtful craft folk who make beautiful, loving sterling silver jewelry. My son thinks the world of them.

I already had half a head of red cabbage and another small head of green waiting to be used. So I opened one of my standby cookbooks, Nourishing Traditions by Sally Fallon, to find a recipe I’d looked at many times. It seems so simple: julienne cabbage then muddle it with salt.

My kindergartner was curiously excited to be a part of the chopping and he asked me to set him up.  Away he sliced at the red  cabbage as I sliced the green. He’s been using a real knife since he was about three years old. I suppose it’s the ease that I have with knives or the way I trust him with it. He is so responsible and uses it with careful strokes. His skills amaze me at times.

Now we have a gallon jar half filled with sauerkraut and waiting to be enjoyed. Soon it will be ready, like the pink sauerkraut my sweet mother-in-law made recently with a friend. They used a good portion of red cabbage (or purple, as my son calls it), as we did.

Julienne Soup

My mom told me that one of her favorite midnight snacks during college was sauteed
cabbage with onions and ham. Cabbage is comforting in that way. It’s a versatile veggie
that can be used in soups, salads, raw, steamed, braised, fermented…you name it.

Here is a simple soup featuring cabbage and mirepoix (the fragrant base of onion, carrots and
celery that add richness to a dish)  that my mom used to make. This is my version.

1 onion, sliced
½ head green cabbage, sliced
2 medium carrots, julienne
5 ribs of celery, julienne
3 cloves garlic, sliced
3 T butter
fresh thyme
2 bay leaves

Celtic sea salt
freshly ground black pepper

Saute the onions in the butter. When translucent, add the carrots and celery. Saute until fragrant.

Add and saute the cabbage and garlic until wilted. Cover with broth and add the herbs.

Simmer for a few minutes and adjust taste with sea salt and pepper.

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