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 The problem with growing season is that it takes its own sweet time. I’m ready. Ooh am I ready. I’m sick of apples, carrots, turnips, even potatoes and all that heavy winter stuff that you can sauce up only so many ways before it gets really old.
My garden is hitting that tipping point where I’m ready for something fresh – problem is, all those tomatoes, peppers, basil, lettuce – are about an inch high in tiny seed pots on the dining room sill (it’s a big sill).
The barometer though is the raspberries. The leaves are starting and as of Sunday afternoon, the stalks are all cut back and the ground cleared of all the winter leftovers. Raspberries right around the corner?
Hah.
Try July and a second batch in late September. We got a loooong way (and a lot of weeds) to go. And I put the snow shovels away — big mistake maybe?
 I want to pretty much congratulate myself on calling it. The New Haven farmers’ market run by CitySeed was packed on Saturday. As crowded as it ever gets. I could have told you that – the weather and all.
Surprise – not much food. It’s always a bit of a disconnect when the weather and the growing season don’t match. Although I have to say, given the number of folks using greenhouses, hoop houses and such, there were a surprising number of folks with fresh greens. And the evergreens – eggs, meats, bakery stuff, milk and cheese.
But in the end, the market was about people – catching up, being seen, not being seen. Yup, Colin McEnroe was quietly winding his way through, large black dog in tow. And Patrick Horan of Waldingfield Farm had a lot more to talk about than food to sell. David Zemelsky of Starlight Gardens was out of arugula in a half an hour. And ficelles? Forget it – all eaten.
But it’s just the beginning.
 For emu eggs and general thoughts on life – check out the world according to Woozie Wikfors in the Hartford Courant.
And check out a few extra photos:
 Egg compared to the size of a large mixing bowl.  Egg unmixed. Check out the color and amount of yolk.  Mushroom, onion, herb and emu egg frittata right out of the oven.  Dinner is served.
Honestly I don’t know what’s really happened with the New York Green Cart plan and the idea to get produce carts into under-served neighborhoods. But it certainly was refreshing to see this up in Carnegie Hill anyway.
 Of course it was right next to one of those junk food doughnuts and giant sweet roll carts, and a block from a Dunkin’ Donuts, but little bites. Little bites – like one of those lovely looking grapes.
 This Washington Post story on food fraud, on one hand doesn’t surprise me, cynic that I am. On the other hand it makes me so sad that we live in a climate where people – remember there’s people behind this stuff – have no compunction about doing it.
Whatever happened to honesty in anything?
Somehow food fraud feels so much worse, since we have to eat to survive. Are there farmers among us claiming organic heirloom tomatoes when it’s just the usual hybrid drowned-in-pesticide suspects?
An honest mistake is one thing. Fraud and crime is another. We have enough troubles in our world, and truly food is right up there with food borne illnesses, badly handled processing of all sorts, uncontrollable imports and scares and worries we haven’t even considered yet. Can someone please give us a break?
 The store shelves at Hindinger Farm are a bit bare at this late date, just a few weeks before it closes for the season. The last of the farm-raised produce consists of acorn and butternut squashes, a lone cabbage or two and a dozen or so different apple varieties – all of them pock-marked by the hail that might have otherwise meant doom for something of a lesser constitution than this fourth generation family farm that sits high atop Hamden’s hills with a southern view that takes your breath away – all the way to Long Island.
But it didn’t mean doom.
And that’s the point here.
“I was up in the middle of the night when it was hailing,” Liz Hindinger says. “I could hear it. I’m sitting there looking out the window freaking out. Everything was just like – you put it through the shredder the next day.”
And then Liz and her brother George, who own and run this farm founded in 1893, went on and finished their season. They farm 100 of its 138 acres, and that includes about 50 acres of orchard. And they’ll be out there pruning their 18 different apples and their pears and peaches and nectarines and plums again this winter.
Not a stone’s throw away, it would be a different outcome for Nature’s Mirror Farm in North Haven – a half-acre spread is all that’s really left of hundreds of acres that once belonged to the Melillo family in the area that is now home to the Route 40 connector.
After a few years farming and selling at area farmer’s markets and to restaurants, the farm is changing course – looking at raising quarter horses and in general looking for more land elsewhere.
These are stark reminders of three things – farming is really tough, financially difficult work; farming is really tough, financially difficult work; farming is really tough, financially difficult work.
Get the picture?
Liz and George have seen the changes. “In Hamden there were a lot of farms,” Liz says. “Mix Avenue, that main avenue where all the apartments are was all farms and there was a farm down that way,” she says pointing south, “Mr. Benham’s farm. And then there was a farm adjacent to ours.”
All gone – as are most of the folks who used to freeze and can fresh food for the winter.
“I wish they’d get back into it, because it would be great for us,” says George.
“We used to sell so much bulk,” adds Liz. “We used to sell peppers by the bushel left and right. We used to sell eggplant by the bushel left and right.”
“Corn like crazy, broccoli by the box,” George finishes. “The problem is really you can get whatever you want 12 months a year. It’s not like you can’t get broccoli in the winter anymore or red peppers or corn or eggplant. You can get anything all year, so I think that’s where it started to change a little bit.”
But the Hindingers are still here.
“That’s the way we make our living,” George says. “We don’t want it to be a trend,” he says of the Buy CT-Grown campaign and local and fresh and all that. “We want it to be a habit,” he says.
An interesting way to view things. Think about it the next time you eye that asparagus in January, and actually consider buying it.
 November 2, 2009. Really!! Sometimes even life intrudes on blogging — and the regular public dissemination of thought processes just has to be set aside. Which doesn’t mean the thought processes go away – just their dissemination.
So with leaves just about down, chilly mornings de rigueur, and the clock pushed back to where it belongs I am inclined to observe … the end of summer, but not quite. You see raspberries are still growing in my backyard and in need of picking every day or so in a large – yes large — container. My freezer is packed with bags of them for use all winter (along with local peaches, blueberries and strawberries), but in the meantime I am enjoying the last fresh ones. Or at least I keep thinking they will be the last. After a summer of rain, cold and other nasty stuff, the raspberry deluge is unexpected and delightful, if full of false hope.
Around me the rest of summer’s fresh food has all but disappeared. The peppers are dwindling at the market. Lettuces and greens are shrinking. Winter squashes, turnips, carrots and potatoes are taking over. “Order your Thanksgiving turkey” – the signs say. My dairy vendor began sell eggnog two weeks ago. I am at once dismayed – but enjoying it immensely.
But all is not lost on the fresh front, as this winter will boast an ever-lengthening list of farmers’ markets. True, they’re always a little produce-starved, but better than nothing. You can check out an incomplete list here on the Connecticut Department of Agriculture website. BUT be sure to add these omissions:
New Haven: CitySeed’s Wooster Square Market runs weekly on Saturdays 9 a.m.-1 p.m. through Dec. 19. Then beginning on Jan. 16, it runs the first and third Saturday of the month 10 a.m.-1 p.m. Yes fans – twice a month this year instead of only once.
Fairfield: Saturdays, 10 a.m.–2 p.m. weekly through May 16. Indoors at the Fairfield Theatre Company, 70 Sanford Street
(across from the
train station). This market is now in it’s third year with many of the premium suppliers from the Westport summer market.
And in the world of fresh local produce, for those of you who are closer to New York State than most of Connecticut – click here to learn about New York State potatoes developed by Cornell. You may like Yukon Golds, but Cornell potatoes are designed specifically to grow in these environs.
And ask your growers – many Connecticut farmers are planting Adirondack Reds and Blues.
 Truthfully, it was a little questionable we’d get to this point – that late season deluge of local produce, given the early season situation of 2½ months of rain, drowned cherries, what seemed like the shortest strawberry season on record, and the late blight tomato disaster.
But it turned out all that rain was good for some things. For the guys who had tomatoes, boy did they have tomatoes. There were some instances of emergency pick-your-owns for peaches, which were so dense, tree branches were in danger of breaking. And the blueberry season – well it’s still going.
So we’ve definitely hit deluge and it doesn’t take much to completely overdo it at the farmers’ market. We’ve all been there — suddenly the leftover corn from last week is being crowded out by the dozen new ears you decided looked too good to pass up. Ditto the peaches, beans, squash, peppers, and yes tomatoes.
I’m not a canner so my M.O. is to use what I have some way for immediate consumption. Or freeze something cooked, like a sauce. Or freeze the raw items, which I do mainly with fruit to use over the winter in smoothies, since fruit tends to look pretty wretched when it thaws.
But really I’ve been cooking and baking – and EATING – a lot lately. I’m sorting through a stack of recipes I’ve set aside, figuring out which work and which don’t; going back and tinkering with old ones; and just throwing things together.
So some of my suggestions for all that stuff:
TOMATOES: I’m big on quick sauces. I take all my half-ripe, half-rotting, otherwise screwed up tomatoes – cut out the bad stuff and chop up the rest (including the under-ripe parts, skins, seeds). Into a big saucepan goes:
1. Olive oil
2. Some combination of onions/scallions/leeks (sometimes garlic) plus fresh hot peppers of varying heat (I’m long on jalapeños this year) – all sautéed until just soft.
3. Chopped tomatoes. Simmer the whole thing, seasoned with salt, until tomatoes begin to break down and excess liquid is gone. Depending on amount and size of pan – it’s about 20 minutes or so.
Obviously it can go on pasta, but it’s also a great sauce for fish, like grilled monkfish, swordfish or bass. And for those inveterate meat eaters, you can always start of with finely chopped pancetta. Crisp that up and then proceed.
FRUIT: These are recipes I’ve run into in the last few years. All are from gourmet, but they definitely needed some adjusting. The links will get you to the original recipe.
Peach Blueberry Cake – This is truly a slow cooker, and I’ve made it into a deeper cake so cooking time is closer to 2¼ hours.
For the filling: use 2½ pounds of peaches – 8-9 medium ones; 1½ cups blueberries; 1 tablespoon lemon juice; ¾ cup sugar; 2 tablespoons flour; 2 tablespoons tapioca. Best way to prepare filling is to put all the fruit in a bowl; mix it with lemon juice, followed by sugar, followed by flour and tapioca. There is no need to grind anything but the tapioca.
I recommend a 10-inch springform, with foil under it. Do not skip the foil on top.
You can use raspberries instead of blueberries, but you’ll need to increase the tapioca a bit.
Plum Blackberry Streusel Pie – I’d go for about 2¼ pounds of plums and 1 pound of blackberries. Increase the tapioca to 4 tablespoons, but keep the cornstarch the same. This pie expands – so don’t think you can do without the baking sheet underneath.
Buttermilk Raspberry Cake — 1 cup of raspberries is nowhere near enough. I use 2 cups and the recipe works just fine. Bake at 375; 400 is just too high. It might take an extra 5 minutes or so.
CORN: Grilled is best in my book. For leftovers just scrape it off the ear. Nothing fancy needed other than a big knife. Balance the corn on one end and scrape down all the way around. Flip it over and finish the rest. This cornbread recipe is based on one I saw in The NY Times. But frankly I’ve tinkered with it so much at this point, it’s pretty much my own.
Brown Butter Sage Cornbread With Grilled Corn (and optional cheese)
3/8 cup corn oil
¼ cup chopped fresh sage leaves
1 cup flour
1 cup yellow cornmeal
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt
1¼ cups buttermilk
2 eggs
3 tablespoons sugar
¼ teaspoon baking soda
1-1½ cups kernels scraped from grilled corn
5-6 ounces feta cheese, crumbled — optional
½ stick (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Heat oil in a 9-inch cast iron skillet. When hot, add chopped sage and cook until crispy. Scrape oil and sage into a bowl and set aside.
While sage is cooking, in a large bowl, sift together flour, cornmeal, baking powder and salt. In a separate bowl, whisk together buttermilk, oil-sage mixture, eggs, sugar and baking soda. Gently fold wet ingredients into dry ones until just combined. Fold in corn, and optional cheese.
Melt butter in the cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat, tilting pan to coat bottom and sides completely. Cook butter 2 to 3 minutes, until it starts to color and smell nutty. Scrape batter into skillet; smooth surface with a rubber spatula.
Bake until golden and a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean, 30 to 35 minutes. Let cool 5 minutes. Cut into wedges and serve.
Note: If you don’t have cast iron, brown the butter in any kind of pan and pour into an 8- or 9-inch square baking pan.
If you’re not a sage fan – use up some of your hot peppers. Chop them up and fold in with the corn. No need to cook them first.
Do you have some special end-of-summer recipes? Send them along.
 It’s something of a cottage industry at the moment – food writers on the subject of Julia Child. So as long as everyone else is piling on – it would seem not inappropriate to join in.
I met Julia Child a couple of times. Met. Rarefied setting, but seriously, just met. That means I got the chance to throw some questions at her in a reporters’ gaggle covering the Food & Wine Classic in Aspen, Colo. Totally appropriate for me to be there – I was a food editor in Colorado for a number of years.
Even among the big names – no make that huge names – there, she was the draw, the star. Her sessions had people hanging in the doorways. And more than anything, she had people laughing. It was 1995 and 1996. She was still physically imposing, but stooped and didn’t walk well. But the mind and tongue were sharp and she was hysterical — deadpanning on a second-thought pour of ALL the wine into whatever it was she was doing. I actually forget the dish.
But seeing Julie & Julia (yes delightful, yes Streep is, well – Streep, and stand warned you will be STARVING when you leave) got me remembering Child in 1995 in particular, and how it all relates to who we are food-wise today.
For the foodies gathered in Aspen – and that meant the non-press paying big, big bucks for some serious food – Julia Child’s demonstration session was called “Will the Real Salade Niçoise Please Stand Up!” The exclamation point was hers.
It was a two-full-page/four-column recipe for Salade Niçoise, which she said was the Escoffier version, and included a scolding in print and in person about things like cheap oil, frozen string beans and unripe tomatoes. And it included this: “I’ve had so-called embellishments, such as fresh tuna rather than canned, or shrimp or crab. But I don’t like embellishments! I want that canned tuna.” (Yes, I still have the program and the full recipe, and the exclamation points, again, were hers.)
Julia Child came of culinary age in a time and place in Paris where the everyday food was local and fresh, bought more or less as needed, and occupied a cultural place in society the way it really never has in the U.S. It was well before the commodity farming, industrial processing and rampant use of antibiotics, hormones, etc. we’ve seen in the U.S. – the backlash against which has spawned the local food movement of the last half-dozen or so years.
And so these unanswerable questions:
Was it ever fair to impose French food sensibilities (some would say snobbery) on an American public that just didn’t and to a large extent still doesn’t have access to these products at a reasonable cost or at all? For instance, the only way many people have to purchase duck (as in the pate de canard en croute that is the movie’s climax) is frozen, which of course will never get you the same quality in the dish Child created.
Is the classic way still the right way or the only way? The largely French techniques are still the core of cooking training – no question. And it’s probably like painting – learn the classic way, by the rules before you start screwing around with things. But, is there something inherently wrong with fresh tuna in a Salade Niçoise? Is food an exact science only, or is it meant to evolve and jettison older conventions to be replaced with newer sensibilities?
What would Julia Child think of the local food movement in swing now? Does it deny us certain foods she valued – that is to say classic French food made in the U.S. heartland from ingredients fetched, imported and flown from faraway, because that’s where they come from? Do food miles make Julia Child obsolete?
And just because something is classic in the French tradition, does it mean we should still eat it now? Tripe comes to mind, but hey, maybe that’s me. And yes, butter – good butter, OK, any butter – is delicious, but in truth is not meant for everything.
When Julia Child demonstrated her Salade Niçoise back in 1995, she advocated hard-boiled eggs made in a pressure cooker, but failing that she had a complex system of piercing eggs, a 17-minute steeping, chilling, re-boiling, chilling.
I totally think Julia Child did amazing things for the world of food. She made us see possibilities, test limits, be adventurous. She did as much if not more for television – opening a genre, putting public TV on the map, refining how to even approach food in a visual setting.
But her hard-boiled egg technique is NOT the best. It’s a pain in the butt. And if I want fresh tuna in my Salade Niçoise, I’m gonna use it. And here, in the half-decade since we lost Julia Child, I’m thinking she might not even mind … too much.
Cook’s Illustrated No-Gray-Ring Hard-Boiled Eggs
Place eggs in a pot, no more than one layer’s worth. Cover with at least an inch of water. Bring to a boil. As soon as the water boils, turn off heat, cover, and let steep precisely 10 minutes. Chill to stop cooking in an ice water bath.
On the off-chance there’s a high-altitude cook out there – my experience at 6,300 feet was that you need 12 minutes of steeping.
As for the whole Salade Niçoise recipe. Maybe.
 Denise Appel You think it’s easy to run a farm-to-table operation like the one at Zinc in New Haven? Take a stroll with owner-chef Denise Appel as she figures out how what’s in front of her at the farmers’ market can be what’s in front of you at dinner. Read about it in my story in Sunday’s New York Times Metropolitan section:
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The problem with growing season is that it takes its own sweet time. I’m ready. Ooh am I ready. I’m sick of apples, carrots, turnips, even potatoes and all that heavy winter stuff that you can sauce up only so many ways before it gets really old.
