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