Kohlrabi Latkes. Trust Me.

Ever seen one of these beauts?

It's okay, I hadn't either, until my brilliant CSA farmer gave them to me. It's called kohlrabi, which means "German turnip," although it's in the cabbage family. I first tried slicing and eating these raw on a salad. Really not a fan. But I think we've discussed here how much guilt I carry about wasting food. I'm also a touch on the competitive side, so the idea of being beaten by a vegetable just doesn't suit.

Now, there's an added challenge here: my sweet boy has a tendency to distrust vegetables. Something about an apple pie that was actually zucchini... I don't know. It's his emotional food baggage, I respect that. But I also need some help eatin' all these dang vegetables.

Well if there's 2 things I love, it's hanging out with people in my kitchen and promptly feeding them. So when our dear friends Nick and Kara returned from a long vacation recently, I was way too excited to have them over to play Medford's Test Kitchen. Luckily for me, Nick will eat anything and Kara is way too polite to ever tell me no. Ever. So together we tested an idea I had for using up these kohlrabi: kohlrabi latkes. We ate, critiqued, and tried again. Here is what we came up with:

Peel and grate these.

Finely chop this.

Do this to those. (You may want to squeeze them out with a couple of paper towels. If you don't get enough water out, you'll have soggy latkes. Gross.)

Crack these into a bowl with the grated business, plus a handful or two of breadcrumbs. (Or try Jessi's fab trick of making your own oat flour!)

Add these to the taste of your liking.

Do this in that. (I used canola oil. I use olive oil for everything, but I was frying these at medium-high, so I didn't want the oil to burn. Pick your favorite oil. Then tell me how much you love it!) Try 3-4 minutes on each side.

This made about 12 little pancakes, which was sufficient for two dinners for 2 people. I ate mine with soy sauce the first time we made them. This time I used sour cream and some Trader Jose's turkey chili.

Holler!

Figgy Pudding? No way.

It's Fig Jam!

It's about jam time!

Jam-a-lam-a-ding-dong!

Oh, jam it all to heck...

(I'm sorry, my mother got the better of me.)

Last fall, Mrs. D. made this amazing fig jam and I have been desperately waiting for Papa Joe's fig trees to start raining.

The time, my friends, has arrived.

Here we go...

• 12-14 good-sized figs, washed and quartered
• 3/4 cup of sugar
• 1/4 cup of water
• 2 or 3 tablespoons lemon juice
• 1 cinnamon stick

Dissolve the sugar into the water over medium heat, then add the figs, lemon juice, and cinnamon stick and simmer.

Let 'em get to know each other.

Very well.

Very, very well. The recipe I was given suggested 1 hour. Perhaps my clocks were broken. 1 hour was much more like 2, but we all know how good I am at making mistakes, so I could have had the heat all wrong.

Wrong never tasted so right...

I assure you, that jar has been cleaned of all salsa flavors and aromas.

So I made some toast, spread some jam and discovered something:

I'm not a huge fan of figs.

What's a girl to do? Like most fruits, I like the flavor of figs, but am not too wild about them in high-density forms. But I do love Fig Newtons! I remembered seeing a recipe on one of my new favorite blogs, Peas and Thank You, for something like a Nutrigrain Bar. Perfect! I made a few modifications, and here you have it:

• 1 1/2C. wheat flour
• 2 1/2C. TJ's steel cut oats
• 2t. baking powder
• 1/2t. salt
• 1/4C. sugar
• roughly 1C. applesauce
• 1/4C. vegan "butter"
• Fig Jam!

Couldn't find the jam in the fridge? That's probably because it was hiding in a salsa jar.

Lessons Learned:

1. I need a rolling pin. The two doughy halves were very thick and a little dense.

2. The applesauce is a rough estimate because you just need to get the dough wet enough to be workable. You mix the dry, then the wet, then combine. If it's too dry, add more applesauce a little at at time. It's kind of like making play dough. Who knew all those years teaching preschool would come in handy?

Now... Can anyone think of a fun way to make Fig Newtons my own? I mean, Paul Newman got lucky. Fig Newmans? Too easy! How the sheez am I supposed to do that?

Fig Newt-agriffs?

Fig Carissatons?

Cafigsa Hanewtonagriffs?

Mmmm Sauce.

Alright, are you ready? It's sauce time. Hunker down, this is going to be a long one. That's how sauce rolls.

Let's start this party by making one thing clear: everyone has a different recipe for sauce and I strongly encourage you to make up your own. There are a few undeniable basic elements (um, tomatoes, duh), but otherwise, you've got a lot of freedom. And you know me; I almost never make it the same way twice. One rule I hold fast to: I only make sauce on the weekends. You'll see why.

So we've been getting plenty of tomatoes (to-MAH-toes, as my farmer calls them) from Luna Farm and I've been trying to be creative with them. When we got these bad boys from Steve's grandfather, however...

Please note that the cantaloupe is used here for size comparison purposes, not sauce-making purposes.

I knew it was sauce time. Steve's Papa Joe has been organic since long before organic was cool. He has more biodiversity and richer soil in a 20x30 foot garden than I've ever seen. It's just stunning. I'll post pics of him and his Garden of Eden soon!

So we've got these maters.

I always start my sauce with onions and garlic sauteeing in oil. Today I used half of a large white onion and one entire head of garlic from Papa Joe. Once those onions are a little bit softer, I add some aromatics. Take your pic. If you've got fresh stuff on hand, knock your socks off. The dry stuff works fine. I like rosemary, thyme and oregano. (Side note: I never cooked with thyme until I lived in Italy; I learned thyme as "thymo," so I have trouble calling it anything else. Please forgive, I promise not to go around acting like Giada. I will never, never, never pronounce it "pan-CHATE-tuh" or "moootz-a-rell-uh.") Many people use one or two bay leaves in their sauce. Please, dear friends, if you love me at all, please don't tell my grandfather that I don't use bay leaves. You see, I love to eat. So the thought of putting something in my food that I ultimately have to pull out is just upsetting. Please don't tell PeePaw I said that.

Steve's mom uses baby carrots in her sauce and I always find it a pleasant surprise, so I decided to try it. We had some white Luna Farm carrots kicking around, so I sliced them on the bias and tossed those in to soften.

In the meantime...

start choppin'.

Many people remove the skins and seeds from the tomatoes. I'd love to know where they find the time. Mrs. D uses some sort of contraption and that sounds lovely, but I don't have one of those thingamajiggies. I usually just leave 'em on and call it "rustic." Anyone who has a problem with it is welcome to come and make me some sauce. For now, I'm trying something new: the blender. (I know I promised you a cushy life, Blendie, but come on... they're just tomatoes!)

This worked beautifully.

Here's a step I would try next time: drain off some of the liquid. I thought if I pureed the tomatoes, it would make a bit of a paste while also chopping the tomato peels to smithereens, but it didn't quite work. Back story: I've been trying for ages to make sauce without using tomato paste. There is nothing wrong with paste. It's perfectly natural (provided you buy a natural brand) and, as Steve loves to remind me, even his grandmother used it (and trust me, her kitchen was the Holy Grail of all things delicious), but I'd like to avoid it. If I can make an entire meal using real whole food, I will be so proud of myself.

My pride will have to wait.

So once the onions, garlic, carrots, and spices are all enjoying their little party, pour in the tomato puree. Steve and I both like a few chunks in our sauce, so I added some chunks of tomato to the mix. As I said, most people don't like the peels. Peeling is a pain. When your tomatoes are this big, however...

It's no big deal to peel it by hand. Which I did. I squished up the chunks in a strainer to get some of the excess juice off, and tossed them into the pot.

Huge. H-U-G-E

And that's really it. Everything dances around on low heat for a while (I'm sorry, were you hoping for a time?) until your whole house smells like heaven and you wish it was raining cappellini.

One for the fridge, one for the freezer! (And yes, I reuse old jars without peeling off the labels...)

Then take some pictures and tell me how it turns out!

Healthy Comfort Food

No, that's not an oxymoron. I promise.

Sometimes you just need a little comfort food. You know that feeling: all you want is carbs, carbs, carbs. Tell me I'm not alone in this one (and don't you dare tell me if I am). Last Thursday, as I unpacked our veggies from our CSA share and processed those that I wanted to store for fall and winter, I thought about the ones I couldn't save. Leaves, for example, don't store quite as well as firmer fruits and vegetables like squash and zucchini. Here's how I basically tackled several foods that were going out of style like, well, like it's going out of style, but still satisfied my need for comfort.

A few pounds of potatoes, cut into similar sized pieces (to ensure even cooking), boiled in salty water.

1 red pepper and 1 red onion, diced, sauteed in olive oil and...

a pinch of cayenne and a pinch of red pepper flakes.

1 small head of cabbage, more or less shredded, added to the saute pan...

with about 1/3 cup of salsa.

Once the potatoes are cooked through, add them to the pan and let that saute until the cabbage has softened.

Be advised: If you do not saute that cabbage enough, it will be bitter. Like your ex-'s new lovah is way hotter than you are bitter. Cook it well!

Top with sour cream and guacamole and enjoy.

Oh, Hello. Welcome.

Dear Blender,

I want to thank you for your faithful service. For over a year now, I have subjected you to harsh work conditions; thank you for not calling OSHA. I've asked you to grind hazelnuts, tackled rock-hard chickpeas, and puree basil to smithereens. You've done them all to the best of your abilities, and with a smile, but it's time to rest. I'm relieving you of your extra-curricular duties. I'm letting you go back to your cushy life of milkshakes and smoothies. Don't worry, I adore smoothies. So we'll stay close friends.


Hello, Food Processor! Welcome to the house! I know it hurt your feelings when your old owner, BQ, called you "old, loud, and awful!" He didn't mean it. He was grumpy because he's moving to Western Mass. I love you. My partner, D-Mart, loves you. And, yes, oh yes, basil loves you.



Welcome.

• 1 part basil leaves
• 1 part olive oil
• 1 handful of pine nuts (or walnuts, yum!)
• 2 or 3 cloves garlic
• a pinch of salt
• 1 part grated parmesan (or romano--hello!)*

*If you want to freeze your pesto (which I highly recommend--save it!), leave out the cheese and add it when you're ready to cook it.

Mmmm, Oatmeal.

I, like Jessi, have a thing for oatmeal. It's been unseasonably crisp and cool here lately and, to be honest, we were running low on all forms of breakfast groceries. I remembered this recipe I had seen over on Peas and Thank You and wanted to give it a whirl.

• 1/4 cup of Trader Joe's steel cut oats
• 3/4 cup of milk

Microwave that for 2 minutes, stopping to stir once. Use a tall bowl, here, or you'll make a mess. Like I did. After two minutes, microwave for 30 seconds at a time until the oatmeal is nice and soft. Once it's cooked, add

• 1 t. baking cocoa
• 1 T. peanut butter
• 1 T. agave nectar
• 1/2 frozen banana

As usual, measurements are not exact.

Oatmeal, coffee, and the New York Times online. That's my kind of weekday morning.

*Note: coupled with some coconut black iced tea, it's also a fab post-run breakfast on a Sunday. As I'm presently discovering.

Guilt-Free Snack Alert!

My farmer gave me three beautiful eggplants in my share this week. Aren’t they so beautiful? I honestly feel bad eating her veggies sometimes.

One is called a Fairy Eggplant and one is called an Orient Express. Guess which is which! I’ll randomly choose one of the correct answers and cook the winna some dinna!

So Lyd said all three were delicious when cooked whole on the grill. Yum! I was cooking for one this Thursday, so I fired up the George Foreman and let those babies char while I unpacked the rest of my vegetables. I prepped my basil for it’s ultimate destination: pesto! (Recipe to follow soon.) I photographed my battalion of tomatoes so I could make you folks some sauce soon (yes, you get that recipe too!) I was so caught up in my “artwork,” I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard a loud POP!

I pulled my eggplant off the grill and discovered this.

Cleaning up the mess, I licked the spatula (like you do) and discovered a heartbreak: I’m not wild about eggplant by itself. Secretly, I’ve always known this. It’s one of the things that made me a terrible vegetarian (possibly the most anemic year and a half of my life).

So my eggplant has exploded, I’m not in love with the flavor, and by now I’m starving. I need to lock it up. No, you lock it up! Then it hits me…

BABA GANOUSH!

Into the blender:

1 can chickpeas (drained and rinsed)

3 or 4 cloves of garlic (or 7 or 8 if you’re like meJ)

2 T olive oil

2T lemon juice

2t sea salt

3 small eggplant, grilled, skins removed

I enjoyed mine with Trader Joe’s Flaxseed and Veggie tortilla chips (with some Identity Crisis tortilla chips thrown in there too).

Seriously, make this and love yourself. Then send me your pics!

Weekend Tradition

What's your favorite weekend tradition?

One of mine is breakfast.

I adore Mark Bittman and every word he has every written (I think.) The man taught my clumsy self how to make an omelet--no easy task!

This is how we do it...

Some of my favorite additions are spinach and cheddar or black beans and goat cheese. Coupled with a few slow cups of coffee (no weekday-style chugging here), this is one of the best parts of my weekend.

Jessi has an even better idea for those hot summer weekends when the thought of cooking just pushes you over the edge! Keep scrolling down!