Beets. Booze. Battlestar Gallactica.

Yes.  It's been eons since my last post.  Exactly a month, I believe.  Day to day, I've felt overwhemingly uninspired.  Yet somehow I'm sitting here now with a mental list so long of things I want to mention that I'm not sure where to start, what to leave out, and worried that even my most devout of followers may drift back to their Facebook walls before finishing my entry.  So let me start with some highlights of the food we've been having.  The mid-summer fruits and veggies have been spectacular.  For the last several weeks, my family has been feasting on roasted zucchini and summer squash, hot house tomatoes served with fresh mozzarella, sweet, crispy summer corn, escarole, carrots, organic blueberries, and gorgeous onions (what?  you had no idea onions could be gorgeous?  neither did I.)  Oh, and let's not forget the beets.  Lots and lots of beets.  The blueberries were unbelievable.  And this is coming from someone who spent most of my childhood summers in Maine.  They were huge, and juicy and sweet.  They were also gone within the first 20 minutes of being home.  But I can rationalize that it's better for everyone if my kids devour a whole pint of organic blueberries rather than a pint of oh, say... gummi bears.  On Saturday, I ran back over to Marini's to pick up two more pints.  Totally worth it. 

When I first saw the onions in our CSA basket, I was a little stumped.  They were big, perfectly round, perfectly white, and had large stalks of scallions (right?) growing out of the top.  One look at them and I had absolutely no idea what to do with that much onion.  The answer:  The Grill.  Walt recently purchased a little, table-top size grill which we use on our back railing.  Probably a safety hazard, but whatever.  We have used the grill almost daily since it arrived.  It turns out that the grill is somehow the answer for every cooking dilemma.  So I sliced the onions, stalks on.  And marinated them in a little red wine vinegar, oil, S&P.  Then grilled them.  They were spectacular.  They smelled wonderful on the grill, and they made a perfect side dish for the sweet steak tips we had that night.  I should mention that all of this was essentially a side dish to the several (4 maybe?) glasses of wine that I drank while waiting for Walter to get home.  Also, this fabulous meal (and liquid accompanyment) was subsequently followed by some tipsy Facebook posting.  The bad news is that the whole world now knows that I am an official Fanilow.  The great news is that most of my crazy chorus friends are also closet Fanilows (I know.  This should not be a surprise.)!  No wonder I love these women!  Although, out of respect for my friend Mary Kreiner, I should probably clarify.  Mary is NOT among the Barry admirers.  Nor would she want (under any circumstances) to be confused as such.  And to her, I say: "I CAN'T SMILE WITHOUT YOOOUUU.   I CAAAAAN'T LAUGH.  AND I CAAAAAN'T SING (now that would be seriously tragic!).  I'M FINDING IT HARD TO DO ANYTHING!!!"

So here's the story with the beets.  I do love beets.  And I finally did get my Mom's recipe for her beet greens.  It turns out, they're extremely easy to prepare.  So when a gorgeous bunch of beets showed up in my CSA basket a few weeks back, I opted to swap my bunch of pickling cukes for a second bunch of beets.  I figured it would be a great idea to make one big batch of beets/beet greens and just have them on  hand in the fridge to snack on  since it was going to be a crazy week (I was making a girlfriend's wedding cake for that weekend) without lots of time for cooking.  And it WAS a great idea.  In between batches of cake baking and frosting hardening, I had a delicious, healthy option to snack on. 

Did you know that eating a shitload of beets will turn your pee red?  Bright red?  Cherry-berry candy kool-aid red?  Because, amazingly, I did not.  And let's just say that six weeks after losing my Dad to bladder cancer, that would have been some good info to have.  So what's the lesson here?  Overdosing on beets  with a family history of bladder cancer will get you a life-long relationship with a Urologist.  Why, hello, Dr. Blander. 

A few weeks back, Walt and I took a mini vaca at the NY Finger Lakes.  I went to graduate school nearby and haven't been back for a number of years.  We were able to spend two full days (one at Cayuga Lake, the second at Seneca Lake) hopping from winery to winery and tasting some great wine and eating some awesome food.  We stayed overnight at a B&B that was so wonderful, it's worth mentioning here.  Barrister's was one of the best bed & breakfasts I've ever stayed at.  It was charming, clean, comfortable, the owners (Ken and Diane) provided unbelievable service and Ken's breakfasts were a Foodie's delight.  Breakfast each morning was three courses.  Over my three mornings there, I ate candied bacon, ricotta tarts, grand mariner french toast and peach & blueberry cobbler.  But my favorite bite of food had to be the sweet potato medallions that tasted like I was eating a creme brulee.  It was just a perfect bite of food.  Here's a link to Barrister's:

Barrister's Bed & Breakfast  

If you ever have the chance to visit this area, it's a well-kept secret.  Totally worth the trip.  When I was in graduate school (at Syracuse), my parents visited during my summer break.  The three of us spent a day at Seneca Lake.  I can still remember eating lunch with my Mom and Dad on the back porch of a German-themed winery.  After countless glasses of wine, my Dad had started referring to the waitress as 'Heidi'.  To be fair, she was wearing leiderhosen.  That was a great trip with them.  On day three of my trip with Walt, we were back at Seneca Lake.  Walt was doing a beer tasting and I couldn't even fein interest.  Instead, I took my sample of the home made rootbeer outside and sat on the swing.  I was enjoying the sun, thinking about the last time I was there with my parents and the happy memories I had of that trip.  At that moment, I looked up at the sky and noticed a cloud that was distinctly shaped like a pontoon boat floating by.  What are the chances?  On some level Dad was there with me again.  

So, on a more serious note, I had my 6-month check in with my wonderful endocrinologist (that actually wasn't sarcastic-  Dr. Kobroski is one of the best doctors I've ever seen.  If you live on the north shore, I highly recommend him.).  Why am I being followed by an endocrinologist?  Thyroidectomy last summer, blah, blah, blah.  In the past year since having my thyroid removed, I have made some tangible strides towards overall better health.  However, since my previous check in back in January, I have seen substantial improvement in some of the less-tangible areas of my health.  Namely, my bloodwork.  At my appointment last week, I learned that my cholesterol, blood pressure, livers, and blood sugar are all way down.  In fact, everything is now at a very healthy level, including my livers, which is a first since before having children.  While I have been steadily trying to improve my diet over the past year, I firmly believe that the dramatic increase in fresh fruits and veggies over the past two months has contributed to this greatly and had almost a 'cleansing' effect on my 'inner self'.  If that isn't the singly, best reason to participate in a program like this, then I don't know what is.  So, rest assured that the Hartfords will be signing up for another half-share of Marini Farms' CSA next summer as well.  However I'll have to start accepting suggestions for a new name for my blog. 

On a side note, I had the pleasure of meeting Mike Marini today.  I made a trip over there to let him know about my little online operation here, as well as to ask if he'd be interested in purchasing ad space in a program for MVC's annual show (WHICH IS COMING UP ON OCTOBER 2ND AT MERRIMACK COLLEGE AND PROMISES TO BE SMASHING!!).  I really hate asking other people for money, but I rationalized that this is all just part of the circle of supporting local business, culture and community.  And to his credit, he had a wonderful reaction and did not hesitate to support my a capella endeavors.  So thank you, Mike, for backing up this pholosophy of "supporting local".  I really do appreciate it and you have permanent customers in my family!

Life Through a (Toy Story 3) Lens

I'm sure that the masses of you who are now following me in my quest for produce nirvana are, by now, probably stumbling around in the dark, lost in my absence from recent posting.  Not to worry!  Here I am.  Back from a seemingly uninspired week of later-than-usual bedtimes, ready to leap tall buildings in a single bound!  Lots of food to catch up on, so here we go...

Week #3:
Romaine lettuce
Butter lettuce
Peas
Basil
Hot house tomatoes (2)
Zucchini (2)
Spinach
Beet greens

So, lots of salads.  Again.  But that's not really a bad thing.  Although it would help if salad was a culinary favorite in the 4 & under population.  But I digress.  On Thursdays, my sister Betsy (who took it upon herself to decide that in the movie version of my blog, she would be played by Sophia Vergara of Modern Family.  I on the other hand would be played by Julia Roberts, because really?  You can just never go wrong with Julia, in my humble opinion.)  comes to Ipswich to hang with the kids while I go to chorus.  Which is to say, she babysits while I go party with a bunch of seriously fabulous, slightly crazy women who all happen to like to sing.  Did I mention we are award-winning?  So anyways, back to the food.  Before chorus that night, Betsy and I dined on a delightful salad of really delicious butter lettuce with goat cheese, and some sausage, panko and marscapone stuffed mushrooms (I had filling left over from Father's Day).  I thought it would be both yummy and economical to slice the leftover muchrooms which did not get stuffed and toss them into the salad.  But when I looked over at Betsy's plate, I saw an empty plate with a tidy pile of mushroom slices pushed to one side.  So maybe more economical than yummy. 

Walter's birthday was also this week, so on Saturday, we celebrated with steamed lobsters.  Knowing that I am probably a long-shot anyways for Mother-of-the-Year, I planned accordingly by giving the kids early naps, early dinner, and having them fully ready for early bedtime.  I mean, what good is lobster dinner if you can't enjoy it in peace?  For anyone reading this who is already horrified, let me soften the blow.  I would *never* even think of using Benadryl for anything other than it's intended medicinal purpose.  So there.  You can all put down your phones and stop searching for the child abuse hotline number.  Walt and I sat down at around 7:30, enjoying dinner an each other's company.  At 9:00, I heard little footsteps coming down the stairs behind me.  And there she was.  Amelia, with her best attempt at an innocent "How-did-I-get-here?? face, but really looking more like Curious George spying the cookie jar.  She wiggled up onto the chair next to mine, with her eyes as big as dinner plates, and fixated on the giant bowl filled with lobster body shells. 

"Can I have one of those?", she says with her arm alrady elbow-deep in the bowl.  We let her check out the empty body, and then I showed her how the miniature claw moved at the end of each of the legs.  She couldn't get enough.  I offered her a bite of the lobster meat, figuring she'd spit it out.  I mean, this is the same child who usually refuses to eat kid staples like chicken nuggets and pizza.  In fact, Amelia is a kid who is very sensory and tactile defensive in every way.  She's not a fan of most foods, new sensations, transitions, swings, and God forbid we ever leave the house without a stash of clean napkins.  But there she was, giggling and eating the lobster pieces as fast as I could get them out of the shell.  She was fully intrigued with the lobster bodies, touching the eyeballs, and curious about the antennae.  When I explained what they were, she responded with, "Tickle me with it, Mom!"  And so I did.  She had an absolute ball.  Did I mention that she was doing all this while wearing the remnants of the giant claw pieces over her own fingers, like mittens?  So I guess sometimes food really is about more than just food.  Sometimes it's about growth. 




The next few days got away from me in terms of cooking some of the veggies from that week's share, but by Tuesday I figured I'd better cook my way through some of the produce for the sake of making room for tne new stuff we'd get the next day.  So, I prepared sort of a mish-mash of vegetarian assortment and ended up with:

Tomatoes, mozzarella and basil-  This was fabulous and probably my favorite.  I mean, who doesn't love fresh mozzarella?  I used a rasp to shave some fresh garlic into it, and tossed the whole thing with some homemade balsamic viniagrette.  Really yummy.


Sauteed beet greens-  I wasn't sure how to cook these exactly.  I made sure to rinse them well.  Repeatedly.  My Mom makes seriously outstanding beet greens and I have no idea how she does it.  Note to self:  get this recipe.  So I ended up sauteeing them in a pan on the stove with some garlic and oil.  I figured that even though they were huge, they would probably cook down to nothing, the same way spinach does.  It turns out that this is true, however they remain humungous until they cook down to nothing.  So, long story short, either use a BIG pan, or please cut the damn greens in half.  Don't let your culinary pride (or secret desire to think that you could cut it as a wild-card contestant on Top Chef) get in your way.  For everyone else's viewing pleasure, I will upload a photo (not to be missed!!) as soon as I have access to my camera cord.  I hope no one will hold this small faux pas against me, particularly Tommy Clicks!

Carla's Scrumptious! Peas-  Anyone who watches Top Chef will already know what I'm talking about here.  On the Chicago season of Top Chef, the remaining  5 (I think?) contestants were asked to draw names of famous chefs, and create their desired menu for their "last supper."  The ever-adorable Carla Hall drew the also adorable Jaques Pepin, who requested a dinner of quail and peas.  Upon first taste, the gastronomic experts at this table (which, by the way was cleverly set up to replicate Christ's own Last Supper) could not swallow their food fast enough to proclaim Carla's peas a triumph.  Jaques Pepin went so far as to adorn them as "Scromp-tious!"  Now, I have Never (yes, that was an intended capitalization) been a fan of peas.  Fresh, frozen, sauced, in casseroles... nothing.  I think they taste like soap, just greener.  But Carla does cook with love, and Jaques was just so French and convincing in his assessment.  Also, I happened to have a large container of fresh peas from our CSA share sitting in my fridge that had to be used.  So I figured this was going to be my adult turning point with peas, when I stopped hating them like a child and finally realized their savory worth.  I googled the recipe, and sure enough, Carla's sctompt-ious! peas have a cult-like following out there in the culinary/online world.  So the recipe really turned out to be realitively simple:  Mash some soft butter with lemon zest, fresh thyme, fresh tarragon, salt and toss this with the blanched peas.  Easy enough.  This took about 3 minutes.  Shucking the damn peas  out of the pods took closer to 30.  And, very sadly, when I finished I had a soggy, green thumbnail, and approximately 1/4 cup of peas to show for it.  Hmmph.  Figuring I might be missing something very obvious, I ate one of the pea pods.  I mean, maybe I was missing the best part of cooking with fresh peas.  Let me just say that I'm pretty sure I achieved my fiber count for the week right there.  Back to the few peas in the bottom of the bowl.  Tossed with the butter compound, they were pretty good.  But let's be honest, I dare anyone, anywhere to find anything that is not scrompt-ious! when tossed with lots of butter.  Right?  To top it all off, and I can't believe I'm going to type this out loud, but it was so disappointing to open up each pea pod and find that the cute little peas nestled in there did NOT have sweet little smiley faces on them like the pea pod toy on Toy Story 3 (which I only know because it's been the movie of the month at my house lately).  I mean on some level, I really expected the faces to be there.  Oh well, I suppose it would have been hard to eat them if they were smiling up at me, talking to the other veggies in their cute, celebrity voice-over animation voices.  So, yes, the peas were yummy, but I can't say I'm totally a convert.  That's OK.  It will leave me with some excellent opportunities for the swap table next time. 

Earlier in the day on Tuesday, I noticed something, or perhaps heard something, or saw or smelled something that triggered very strong memories of my Dad.  Somedays I feel OK.  And then, occasionally, I'll have moments like these.  When something instantly reminds me of him and I miss him so much it hurts.  This day, I found myself wishing I could talk to him just one more time, not even sure what I would say if I had the opportunity.  Dad knew that I loved him.  And I knew that he loved me.  But now I look around and still seem him everywhere I look.  And he always knew what to say to make someone not feel so bad about something.  I was about waist-deep in wallowing in my own sadness, that I wasn't even aware that my one-year-old had come into the room.  I was broken from my reveries of my Dad to the sweet, sing-songey sounds of: "uh, oo, ee."  I looked down to see Anthony moving his deliciously chubby little index finger from one freckle to the next on my leg.  My sweet little man was counting my freckles.  What could make anyone feel better than that?  I knew we named him after my Dad for a reason. 

Artichoke Regrets

So here we are, in the midst of week two.  I realize that Sunday evening is a bit late to start dishing about what I had in my CSA share this week, but I will totally blame my procrastination on my sweet friend Beth.  She blatantly sabotaged my blog time this week by hosting a most fabulous wine club overnight at her family's spa-like summer house in Manomet.  It was too fabulous for words.  Each month, one person from the club hosts, which means that they choose a theme for new wines to try, then go shopping for a bunch (around 8 or so) of wines fitting that theme.  Everyone else comes, with either an app or a dessert for the group to sample.  This month I got to sample a great variety of summer-y wines and so much food that I needed to be rolled out of bed the next morning.  It was so much fun.  I don't know why everyone doesn't start a club like this.  Good wines, amazing food, and seriously fabulous company.  Mad props to Beth who made some roasted peppers with goat cheese and proscuitto that were perfection.  I may have had some the next morning at breakfast.  And to Linda and Jan, the tres leche cake was positively sublime.  So there you go.  As you can see, I was way too busy chatting about this week's veggies because I was being held against my will and forcefed app after app. 

So, when I arrived to pick up my share this week (red basket in hand), here's what I found:

-asparagus
-2 bunches of beet greens
-lettuce
-spinach
-strawberries


On Wednesday, I made roasted balsamic radishes with their greens, and served them with swiss turkey mushroom burgers with red onion and roasted red pepper.  If you look at the picture below, yes-  this would be the meal served on the ever gourmet "fish bread".  What can I say?  When you have a picky four year-old, that's life.  Try not to be too jealous.  anyways, the radishes were really yummy.  They stayed crisp in the middle and softened a little on the outside.  But the radish greens were by far the best.  The leaves roasted until they got nice and crispy, and the sweet vinegar added some awesome flavor.  Total win! 

On Thursday I sauteed the spinach with some fresh garlic and olive oil.  It was excellent.  Savory, and meaty, and satisfying.  But note to self:  the  instructions on your shampoo bottle also apply to cooking (very) fresh spinach.  Lather, rinse, REPEAT.  I was confident enough to think that one thorough soak and rinse was sufficient enough to remove every last bit of sand.  But not quite.  Oh well (as my Mom would say!).  My loss is your gain. 
 
Finally, here we are at Sunday. Father's Day.  I asked Walter what he'd like to have tonight.  I could have predicted that he'd choose scallops, but that's fine with me.  They're easy.  They're never bad.  I opted for seared sea scallops with parmesan cous cous (Kuzco, as Amelia now calls it- as in "The Emperor's New Groove") and a warm goat cheese salad.  I still don't know what species of lettuce it was, but if that wasn't the most spectacular lettuce I've ever tasted.   Small-ish leaves, crispy and green at the bottom, soft and wine-colored at the top edges, lots of tender grooves to catch the goat cheese and viniagrette.  Amazing.  I will have to ask when I go back this week. 

So today was a hard day.  Maybe the hardest yet.  Maybe I just wasn't prepared.  For a week, I've been telling myself that Father's Day was just another day.  But today did feel different.  Sadder, somehow.  I found myself thinking about my Dad constantly today.  Tony loved good food.  Yesterday I made Walt mushrooms stuffed with sausage, panko crumbs and marscapone cheese.  My Dad loved those.  I'm pretty sure he would have been pleased with tonight's dinner too.  Tony was a great cook as well.  He had a number of specialties, some coming directly from his Italian lineage.  Dad made stuffed artichokes like no one else.  They were big, and salty, and garlicky and so tender.  And on special occasions, they were always there-  a few hours after dessert, when you were starting to feel like you might have the tiniest bit of room in your belly again.  For years I've had the thought, every time I've torn into one of Dad's artichokes, that I really wanted to learn how to make them.  And then when Dad was diagnosed with cancer, it went to the top of my list.  But I was always afraid to ask him to show me.  It just felt like asking him to pass on 'artichokes' to me was like indirectly saying that he wasn't going to make it though his illness, and I guess I was never willing to go there.  When he went into the hospital this last time, at the beginning of May, I remember thinking; "That's it.  As soon as he goes home this time, I'm having him show me the artichokes no matter what."  As it turns out, that was not to be.  But someday, I will figure these things out.  I can't predict how many batches it will take to get them as fabulous as Dad did, but it will happen.  And I will channel Tony to do it.  I really want my kids to be able to taste these someday and appreciate a bite of where they came from and how they got here. 


Walt and I are capping off our day with fresh strawberries dipped in warm, melted white chocolate.  Hug the people you love and tell them often how special they are to you.  Share memories and traditions and stories through food, and please please please don't wait for anything (except your next meal) to start doing it.  Cheers to Walt, and Tony, and all the dads out there today. 

On the Lookout

Strawberries are practically their own food group in my house.  They are easily one of my top three favorite foods, and my two kids can  eat their own body weight over the course of a week.  My husband is more of a raspberry/blackberry kind of guy, but that's his problem.  Not mine.  So I decided that it would be a good idea to get over to Marini Farm to fill up my PYO basket early, before the picking season kicked in and the fields were picked over. 

This past weekend I took my favorite  yard-saling buddy, my 4 year-old daughter Amelia, with me on the excursion.  I wasn't sure she'd want to come, but she was thrilled at the idea of taking her new binoculars, which we had purchased just that morning at an awesome yard sale, so she could "be on the lookout for the strawberries".  Who could argue with that offer?  Weather-wise, it was an awesome day for picking.  Not really.  It was chilly, slightly windy, and drizzling.  When I asked the cashier where the strawberry field was, I think she thought I was crazy for committing to an hour or two of work on a crummy day like this. 

I had my doubts, but Amelia was a trooper, and we had a really wonderful afternoon.  We crouched up one row and down the next, on the hunt for plump, red berries hiding underneath the outer leaves of the bushes.  Me, with my hat on and picking tray in hand.  And Amelia with binoculars hanging from her neck and a single pint box to collect her treasure.  I showed her how to gently pull the berries from the stem and to choose the red berries and not the white ones.  Amelia, who has never been a fan of new things or transitions, was a little thrown by the drizzle and would reassure me (her), every two minutes "Mom.  OK.  If it starts to rain, we'll just head back to the car and get going home.  OK?"  Ok, Amelia.  No problem. 

About 20 minutes later, I realized that the questions had stopped and the fear was gone.  I looked up from the spot where I was picking, and saw Amelia running towards me, basket in one hand, half-eaten berry in the other, pink stains dripping down her chin, and mud halfway up to her knees.  She was beaming, ready to show me the 3 berries she'd managed to find and not eat. 

Seeing Amelia like this was one of those priceless moments where I feel this instant desire to bottle the moment somehow so that I can pull it out whenever I want and always know good it feels to feel this happy over something to innocent and uncomplicated.  And it's moments like these when the thought instantly runs through my head, "I should call my Dad and tell him about this" or, "Dad would get such a kick out of this.  I should text him a picture."  And on this day it hit me.  I can't do that anymore. 

Anyone that knows me, or my family, knows that my Dad passed just three weeks ago.  After 18 months, he lost his battle with cancer.  My sweet, kind, loving, loyal and supportive father.  And while I have many days when I feel OK and (sort of) at peace with how things have turned out, in this particular moment, I am crushed.  It had become part of my daily routine to find any reason I could to call my Dad during the day and share something funny that Amelia had said or done to make him smile.  Amelia always made Bippy smile.  They were a special pair.  Shortly before Dad passed, a friend, who has also lost a parent, told me that after my Dad was gone, I would eventually feel happy again, but it would be different.  In this moment, it was impossible not to question the possibility of feeling truly happy again, knowing that my father wouldn't be there to be part of it. 

Amelia kept plugging on, through the drizzle, picking and tasting.  Standing on top of the nearest dirt pile, searching through her binoculars for the next bunch of strawberries to pick, doing her best pirate imitation.  When she finally tired of picking berries (or I suspect when she got so full she simply couldn't eat another bite), Amelia decided to pick some flowers for her Dad.  When I had nearly filled my tray with ripe strawberries, Amelia asked if it was time to head home for some hot coacoa.  Sounds good to me! 

On our way back to the car, we waved up at Bippy in heaven.  Amelia told me that picking strawberries was really fun and that I was a good strawberry picker.  I buckled her into her carseat and, without missing a beat, she held up her binoculars and informed me that she was on the lookout for our green house.  In the end, it was a great afternoon.  Who knew that strawberries could be so bonding?  I miss my Dad terribly.  But I have a feeling he was there watching all the moments that I want so badly to share with him now.

Vegetables with Accessories

Sometime during this past winter, as we were all settled in under 4+ feet of snow, my husband asked me if I would be interested in purchasing a CSA share from a local farm in o ur area.  Since, sadly, the most recent GLEE episode is often the extent of my cultural and world knowledge, I had no idea what he was talking about.  As is turns out, local farms will often sell 'shares' to their growing season.  For a set price prior to that year's season, an individual can opt for a weekly share (or half share) of whatever is in season that week, and do this weekly over the course of the entire season. 

Marini Farm was offering half shares to their growing season for $375.  My initial reaction was that the price seemed somewhat high for a summer's worth of vegetables.  However, the more I thought about it, the more I reconsidered.  Local, fresh veggies straight out of the ground had to be a tastier option than what's available at my local national-chain grocery store, and I'm a total fan of supporting local business.  Also, since having my thyroid out last summer, I've become committed to living a healthier lifestyle, making better choices about what I put into my body, and setting a better example for my two kids in general.  Besides, I rationalized, this might be just what I need to make sure that I cook/use/eat all the produce that I buy instead of watching half of it liquefy in the bottom drawer of my fridge. 

Over the course of the remaining winter and spring months, I wondered frequently if we had made a good choice, or if I had just committed myself to eating an obscene amount of lettuce and cherry tomatoes.  Either way, I found my curiosity brewing at the thought of picking up a surprise basket of unknown veggies each week.  It almost felt like I was going to be a contestant on an epidode of CHOPPED.  How bad could that be?

So last Wednesday kicked off week #1.  After work, I headed to Marini to pick up our first week's produce.  When I arrived, I was given a brand new collapsable, nylon shopping basket, insulated with a drawstring cover.  In a sporty shade of red, no less! I was told to bring the basket each week when I picked up my share.  Who knew vegetables came with such fabulous accessories?  Dare I say that this made the $375 worth it?  That might be a stretch, but this was certainly looking promising. 

So here's what we got week #1:

-3 heads of lettuce-  red leaf, green leaf, and some other type (Boston, maybe??)
-1 bunch of asparagus
-1 bunch of radishes
-1 pint of strawberries
-small bunch of mint leaves
-small bunch of rhubarb stalks

I was also given a large tray-sized box to use to pick strawberries at the PYO at some point during the season. 

So far, I've used everything but the radishes and rhubarb (but don't count those suckers out yet!).  The lettuce made for some really great salads, and surprisingly yummy wrap sandwiches.  Yes, yes, I know... not super creative, but come on.  It's lettuce. 

On Friday, my friend Jessica came over to talk wedding cakes (I'll be making hers next month).  As an appetizer, I lightly steamed the asparagus and served them with slices of yellow pepper on a plate with two kinds of hummus, which I drizzled with a fabulous balsamic reduction.  It was delicious.  The asparagus was still just a little crunchy, and the savory hummus with just a speck of the balsamic in each bite was perfect.  I think I caught my adorable husband licking the plate when I wasn't looking.  I'll take it as a compliment. 

On Sunday, I used the strawberries to make strawberry-chocolate chip shortcake.  One of my all-time favorite things to make in the summer.  Or in January.  I don't really care.  I just love strawberries, and the chocolate chips in the biscuits kick ass.  Seriously, how can you go wrong?  I use Bisquick mix as a base, add butter, sugar, and milk and mix with a fork.  Then I sprinkle sanding sugar over the tops before they go into the oven, for a little crunch just on top.  The strawberries get quartered, then drizzled with real maple syrup.  That's it.  Warm biscuit with melted chips, strawberries, whipped cream.  Nothing fancy.  Just perfection.  In the last 24 hours, my four year-old has consumed her weight in chocolate chip biscuits (validation for me).  My 18-month old has consumed his weight in fresh strawberries (validation for Marini Farm). 

I'd say we're off to an excellent start. 

Red leaf salad with goat cheese and vinagrette
Flatbread with caramelized onions, ham and creme fraiche

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                    Strawberry-chocolate chip shortcake