Our friends at Samascott Orchards had the cutest little heads of romanesco at the Greenmarket today. It was like when you go to the pound, "just to visit", and come home with a tiny pit bull for each member of your family. Or something. Anyway, if you're unfamiliar with this stuff, hit the market at the end of the day tomorrow and you might find it on sale. Then take it home and treat it like cauliflower made of gold. Roast it with olive oil and salt, or braise it with garlic and anchovies!
We recently caught up with our old friend, the pickler Jon Orren. When we first met him, the Brooklynite had just taken the leap away from normal life and toward entrepreneurship and the endless preserving of fruits and vegetables. A year and a half later, he has four employees, a commercial kitchen, and tomorrow, Wheelhouse, his line of pickled beets, pears, okra, etc. hits Whole Foods Bowery.
Orren will be in the store for a tasting in the afternoon, if you need help choosing between brines. ($8.99/16 ounces). The store will also carry Wheelhouse's Minor Threat sauce, made from milder habaneros grown specifically for Orren, who wanted the classic West Indian flavor without the overwhelming taste-bud fire. ($6.99/8 ounces)
In addition, Wheelhouse will make its Union Square Greenmarket debut next Monday (10/22), and will be there every Monday thereafter (so as not to compete too directly with Rick's Picks).
During college, I spent a semester in Rome, where I made friends only with vegetable stand operators, the butcher with a giant hairy mole who wanted to do me, and the salami man. Yes, I had a salami man. My school work was alarmingly easy, so I spent most of my energy on dinner. At the time, zucchini flowers were plentiful, and the dollar was good, so they didn't cost $5 a bunch, as they did this morning at the Brooklyn Heights Greenmarket.
Of course, zucchini flowers are incredible when stuffed with mozzarella and anchovies, dipped in a light batter, and deep-fried. But an easier method -- and a good way to stretch them out a bit -- is slicing them in half (north to south), wilting them in a pan, and tossing them with pasta. Start with some garlic that has been very slowly softened in olive oil over low heat, for sweetness, and add plenty of anchovies, some butter, ricotta or cream, or even a few raw egg yolks at the last minute.
This weekend at the Fort Greene Farmer's Market, we made a new friend -- the radish pod. If you like the idea of a small, pepper-shaped sugar snap pea with a mustard-esque kick, look for them at Conuco Farms.
Summer is progressing at the Farmer's Market. Today, there's a deal from Philip's Farm, and you better get it while those strawberries are still plentiful. With the blueberries, we suggest making a batch of cornmeal-blueberry pancakes:
Along with blueberries and raspberries, summer squash has hit the market. We like these guys roasted quickly, or sliced up raw in a salad.
And now, let's talk garlic and onions. These beauties are garlic scapes. There is a little covered flower, but don't think you're just looking to extract the "pearls" from inside, as we once thought ourselves. Chop up the whole firm green part and sauté them as you would garlic. The taste is delicate but with a little kick, especially when raw.
This here's your spring garlic. It's the garlic you're used to, but in its younger state. Each clove is surrounded by softer layers of protection, not the dried skins they develop later. The taste is very sweet.
And don't miss the spring onions. Again, these are the onions you know and love, but freshly harvested and there fore sweeter, milder, and without that punch they develop later.
Turnips are not just for roasting and braising and general meat-accompanying. EfV has to admit that we only recently realized the delight that is a Japanese turnip, or hakurei turnip. The discovery was made at Added Value's Red Hook Farm, where we attended a dinner to celebrate the end of the term for the farm's high school interns. The turnips, of course, were fresh out of the ground and simply cut into wedges and tossed with some fresh romaine and radishes. We had to restrain ourselves against the urge to dig them all out of the salad and chomp through a giant turnip pile all night. The hakurei were as crunchy as the best granny smith, and very sweet.
Look for Japanese turnips at Added Value's farmers markets, or at the Migliorelli stand at Union Square Greenmarket.
Red Hook Farmer's Market
6 Wolcott (Intersection of Wolcott and Dwight)
10am - 2pm, Wednesdays
The Red Hook Farm
Columbia and Beard Street
9am - 3pm, Saturdays
Yesterday, we spied, for the first time this season, our favorite garlic (small, sweet, flavorful) from Keith's Farm's garlic genius Keith Stewart. He'll be back on Saturday and we suggest you load up.
When the rain stops, we suggest you head to the Greenmarket and pick up some rhubarb for a crisp -- with some strawberries, perhaps! $2.25 from Samascott Orchards.
Life just got easier. If you need a snack, a house-warming gift, an hors d’œuvre for your cocktail party, side dish for your barbecue, palate-cleanser with your cheese, life to your salad, etc., pick up some sugar snap peas. We just loaded up on a giant pile of sweet, crunchy, flawless specimens from Kernan Farm at the St. Mark's Church Greenmarket (10th Street and Second Avenue, Tuesdays only). $5/pound.
You may be in some sort of asparagus tizzy, and we can't blame you, but don't miss the bok choy sprouts at DJ Farms (Union Square Greenmarket). When you bring them home (a bunch goes for $3), cut off the bottoms of the stems and put them in a glass of water in the fridge until you're ready to sauté. They have a sweet taste and will only be around for a few weeks!
Yesterday, the ramps were back at the market, and they do deserve top billing, since they will vanish soon, and because we will have to wait for so many of our other spring favorites. This is going to be a late season all around, it seems. But another exciting thing happened. Migliorelli Farms unveiled their first greens of the season, wintered over broccoli rabe. Welcome back, friends. And we look forward to the more promised soon.
Oh, happy day, the conveniently located mango stand is up and running on the corner of 14th and University. Do yourself a favor and take a stroll through the Greenmarket with mango juice, lemon juice, and hot sauce running down your arm. ($2.50 each, every day.)
We may have to wait a few weeks yet for asparagus and ramps, but at least the greenmarket is green again.
At Union Square right now, it's all about micro-greens, like the delicious spicy salad mix from JD Farm, or their gorgeous Italian arugula. At Yuno's Farms we spotted the youngest bok choy we've ever seen, with slender pale green stalks and crisp leaves--which means less water-log, more leafy taste. Also at Yuno's Farms, infantile broccoli rabe, with some tiny yellow flowers, but mostly leafy greens and stalks so small they barely need trimming.
Look for sorrel, pea shoots, baby mustard greens, baby spinach, tatsoi, and more. Oh, yeah, and the freakin' apples still abound, too.
Clearly, God is with us when it comes to Valentine's Day: It's too embarrassing for couples and singles alike to be seen outdoors on this shameful night. Therefore, he sent a slush flood to deter even the cheesiest from living out their sick fantasies, like this woman, who is combing the city for heart-shaped ravioli. Then again, just when you think you have someone all figured out, her avatar turns out to be two fists marked "THUG LIFE."
It's hard to categorize the season New York is in these days. It feels like winter, but last week we saw bare knees. Maybe next week, we'll have everyone over for a barbeque. The piles of watermelon radishes at the Greenmarket don't shock us. Nothing can.
These beautiful round roots—heirlooms of the daikon—are officially spring radishes, but can be harvested year-round. They're sweet and mellow, with a subtler spiciness than other radishes but, like any radish, can be eaten raw or cooked like turnips. If winter sticks around for a minute, try them in a braised dish, and if not, happy salad days.
The other addiction we recently developed thanks to Union Square is the goat milk ricotta from Lynnhaven. Really, any super-fresh ricotta would get us excited, but this one, from a goat who had volunteered her services just last night, really, um, got our goat (sorry). We're smearing it on toast, blobbing it on top of pasta, and can't wait strawberries to join the party. Who knows, maybe next week...
Not long ago, I returned home from the CSA hunched over, the weight of upstate bounty on my back. Beets, eggplants, squash, potatoes and kohlrabi are a heavy load. But little did I know, life was about to really take a turn for the worst. My boyfriend—let's call him Slobface—saw the kohlrabi, with its strange tentacles, and inquired about it. "Oh, that's kohlrabi?" he said. "That's what I'm telling you," I replied.
"Kohlrabi!" he said again. i looked at him, as I often do, with furrowed brows. Then, he broke into a startling and highly upsetting rendition of "Volare." It went like this: "Khol-rab-bay, whoa-oh. Kohl-rab-bay, who-oh-oh-oh..." and repeat, and repeat again.
This vanished from his mind as soon as it came, but I have a brain dysfunction which makes jingles and random phrases lodge permanently in the front of my mind, while crucial information cannot be called up when needed and precious memories spark only the vaguest recognition. Naturally, I now hate kohlrabi. I once thought of it as turnip-esque, good for stews. Let's never talk about it again.
If you're having a dinner party, it's easy once the cool weather sets in. you braise something. It's cooking for dummies, and you can even do it the day before if you have stage fright (hi). But what do you have next to those short ribs or that pork shoulder? Romanesco looks fancy and exotic but it's basically the beautiful, mellow version of cauliflower, with pointy, dense, alien-like flowers that don't fall apart when you sauté or steam them. You're welcome.
Also at the market right now are Concord grapes, squash galore, all kinds of peppers, potatoes, a surprising number of heirloom tomatoes hanging on for dear life, and of course apples. This fall I am going to make an effort to branch out in this department. Samascott Orchards has an alarming variety. I started with an Ida Red, my kind of apple. It was big and picture perfect, super crunchy, and a tad tart. I can't abide by mealy, people.
Tomato season, of course, peaked last month, but we could be positive and say we have just entered green tomato season. They are slightly tangy and crunchy, and if you can get my mom to make you some green tomato chutney, you'll really love it. Well, you could also make it yourself. Her's is a version of a Michael Romano recipe (from Second Helpings), which has lime, red onion, mustard seeds, cardamom, and curry leaves.
I tripped over something at the farmer's market the other day, and before a slew of curse words flew out of my potty mouth, I saw the culprit—a brussel sprout. And I couldn't be angry anymore. There are gorgeous heaping piles of them everywhere, on their weird stalks. Did you think they grew in the ground, like teeny tiny cabbages? That's OK.
My favorite brussel sprout preparation has nothing to do with those sad, water-logged steamed things you get in bad restaurants or from bad mommies. But it is labor intensive. Try to marry someone obedient and detail-oriented who will core each one and pull off the leaves. Then sautée the leaves in a little olive or vegetable oil until they wilt and brown slightly. Give them plenty of salt, a few handfuls of toasted pignoli nuts, and a drizzle of walnut oil.
It's also a good time to learn to love cauliflower, which as a child I thought tasted "like barf." Now I cut them into dainty "florettes," not wasting all the stems, and braise them with garlic and anchovies. Don't knock it till you try it. It's a perfect combination as a side dish or tossed with pasta.
Farewell corn and tomatoes. New York, it’s officially time to brace for winter. Well, let’s focus on the good part. When you’re done sloshing through the pee-slush outside, you can put on a muumuu and braise something for eight hours and then eat till you fall asleep.