Hey, guess what?  I’m in England right now!  Yep, that’s right.  I’m traversing the pond to take a whirlwind tour of gardens of the U.K.   Among them is a personal Mecca of mine - Perch Hill Farm.  Can’t wait to get back and tell you all about it!  In the meantime, here’s a new recipe to keep you occupied. 

This dish is a bit more geared towards those of you that grow your own garden as the beets/greens need to be very young, so much so that I doubt anyone out there is selling them this small.   Actually, it’s a fun trick I’ve developed in my garden this year.  When the time comes to thin out any extra seedlings from the crops I direct seeded – carrots, peas (for shoots), lettuces – into my vegetable beds, I save the tender young plants I thin and eat them whole.  So, these itty bitty beets – really just long red roots with tiny greens attached – were what I culled from the rows of what are now becoming beautiful big ruby orbs, which are due shortly to make their appearance in several recipes here on SFTF. 

For those of you who are vegetarian out there, I used the Morning Star chicken strips and found them perfect for this recipe.  The dressing is just a basic formula you can adapt a hundred different ways; add a dash of red pepper flakes, a pinch of fresh thyme, orange muscat champagne vinegar instead of balsamic, apple juice in place of honey, walnut oil instead of olive….the adaptations and flavors are endless.  The idea behind the recipe is to keep it simple and fast so dinner is healthy and delicious without being time consuming.   And to not waste some of the most tender, albeit small, harvests from the garden. 

Young Beet Greens and Chicken Salad
A Straight from the Farm Original

¼ C. balsamic vinegar
¾ C. extra virgin olive oil
1 T. ground mustard
1 t. ground ginger
1 T. lemon juice
1 t. honey
salt and pepper to taste
2 C. chicken breast, cut into thin strips
2 C. fresh baby beet greens, roots and all, washed and dried

Make the dressing by whisking together the vinegar, oil, mustard, ginger, lemon juice, honey, salt and pepper until well combined.  Set aside.

In a large skillet, cook the chicken over medium heat until brown and cooked through, seasoning with a pinch of salt and pepper.   Add the beet greens and toss to combine with the chicken.  Drizzle with half a cup of dressing and toss again.  Cook just until greens begin to wilt.  Remove from heat and taste.  Add additional dressing and salt and pepper as desired.   Serve immediately while warm. 

(serves 2)

I’m sure you’ve all had some version of a chicken and broccoli casserole in your day.  Usually it’s a tad ho-hum, isn’t it?  Comfort food though, I’d venture to say in its defense.  Well, today’s recipe – a spin on this homemaker’s favorite weeknight go-to meal – is anything but ho-hum, thanks to an infusion of warm Moroccan flavors.

Awhile ago, one of my roommates made this casserole, sharing with me that it was a long-standing treat in her house growing up.  I could certainly see why just from the aroma alone that flooded the house as it baked.  I had a few nibbles of it and asked for the recipe, but alas never did get the specifics in the end.   The flavors stuck in my mind though.  Hints of curry, lemon, thyme and lots of broccoli goodness!

I had one of those moments the other night where I stood with a glazed-over stare, holding the freezer door open in a horrifyingly energy inefficient way, wondering what the heck to have for dinner.  There were some vegetarian chicken strips in there which are definitely a staple in our house’s dinners, but I didn’t want to do the same ol’ thing, ya know?  

Then I shook my head, closed the freezer door, and opened the fridge door, prepared to impart upon it the same zombie stare.   I was jolted out of my haze when I saw the heads of fresh broccoli I’d just picked from my garden and remembered this delicious Curried Broccoli Chicken Casserole.

Curried Broccoli Chicken Casserole
Adapted from several sources, including my roommate

1 large head of fresh broccoli or 1 package of frozen florets
1 package of Morning Star chicken strips
OR 2 C. uncooked chicken breast cut into cubes
1 small can of cream of broccoli soup
1 T. curry powder
1 T. lemon juice
2 T. mayonnaise
pinch of salt and pepper
1 T. butter, melted
2 C. stale bread cubes*
1 T. dried herb mix (marjoram, oregano, basil, etc)
1 C. shredded sharp cheddar

*I used a baggett that I cut into 1 inch cubes and left sit out on the counter for the afternoon so they got a little stale. 

Preheat the oven to 375 F and grease a 9” x 13” baking dish with nonstick spray.

If using frozen broccoli, thaw it on medium power in the microwave.    Cut broccoli florets into small pieces (about the size of your thumb) and lay in the bottom of the baking dish.

In a skillet over medium-high heat, cook the chicken just until it begins to brown.  If using Morning Star strips, try to break them into slightly smaller pieces while they’re cooking.  Remove from heat and spread over the broccoli in the baking dish.
 
In a mixing bowl, combine the soup, curry powder, lemon juice, mayonnaise, salt and pepper.  Pour mixture over the chicken and broccoli, spreading it out as evenly as possible.
 
Toss the bread cubes with the melted butter and then with the dried herbs (if in a pinch, I think you could use premade seasoned stuffing cubes here).  Spread the seasoned bread cubes over the baking dish, pressing down on them lightly.  Top with shredded cheese.

Bake covered for 15 minutes and then uncover the dish and bake for another 15 minutes until the dish is bubbly and golden.  Serve immediately.

(serves 8 )

It’s about time for some health food around here.  The past several posts have all be scrumptious sugary goodness…and now my teeth are starting to hurt just a little bit and the thighs have really taken advantage of the “situation”.  Good thing I’m working up a serious sweat every day in my gardening gig.   My garden is growing gold these days.  I’m harvesting beets, carrots, lettuce, all sorts of herbs, broccoli, swiss chard, and young mustard greens.  But my two favorites have to be the kohlrabi and sugar snap peas. 

I had a friend recently tell me he’d never even seen a kohlrabi before, let alone eaten it.  Of course I made him try it offered him one to eat as soon as they came into season (about a month ago).  But before he would take a bite, he wanted to know what it tasted like.  I always have such a tough time with that question.  Kohlrabi tastes like…um, well, sorta like broccoli.  Yep.  And sorta like a mild radish.  Okay.  And maybe even a little like an apple.  What??   Well, that’s just my take on it anyway.   It’s definitely very crunchy and when it’s peeled, it looks like the white crisp flesh of an apple.  There is a mild sweetness to mine, but I’ve had other people tell me that’s not always the case with kohlrabi.  Another friend who overheard me trying to describe this to my kohlrabi-virgin friend declared it was just like eating a giant broccoli stem.  Hmmm, perhaps, though I like to give this alien-looking vegetable more credit than that.

I do believe my friend liked the kohlrabi, by the way.   And I know for sure he and everyone else who’s visited my garden as of late loved these sugar snap peas.  I can only tell you that if you’ve never had a sugar snap pea plucked straight off the vine and popped directly into your mouth, pod and all, then you’ve been denied one of life’s most delicious experiences.   Don’t even kid yourself if you are thinking right now, “Well, maybe I haven’t been there to pick them myself, but I’ve surely had the same great taste from the fresh peas I buy at the farmers market”.    Peas are the one vegetable everyone should try to grow themselves as they are never quite as good as they are those few precious minutes after they’ve been picked.   Really, mine rarely make it into the kitchen as I inevitably eat them standing before the vine, dirt in the crack of my hands to boot, about mid-way through my evening of gardening when my tummy reminds me I never made it into the house to have some dinner.   Obviously I made an exception to make this salad.  Talk about practicing self-control!

So, you see, when I think of the month of June, which is shockingly about to pass us by, and what I love most to eat in this month that bridges spring and summer harvests, a salad of peas, kohlrabi, radishes and even a few strawberries tossed with a homemade buttermilk dressing is just about the epitome of fresh crisp eating straight from the garden/farm.  What always surprises me the most is how delicious something so healthy can be.   If sugar snap peas were in season all year long here, I might finally give up my addiction to chocolate!   They’re just that good.

June Salad with Buttermilk Dressing
A Straight from the Farm Original

1/2 C. buttermilk, shaken up
2 T. mayonnaise
2 T. cider vinegar
2 T. minced shallot
1 T. sugar
1/2 t. salt
1/4 t. freshly ground black pepper
3 t. finely chopped herbs (oregano, chives, thyme)
1 lb. fresh sugar snap peas
1 large kohlrabi, peeled
4 large radishes
5 or 6 large strawberries

Whisk together buttermilk, mayonnaise, vinegar, shallot, sugar, salt, and  pepper in a large bowl until sugar has dissolved, then whisk in herbs.  Refridgerate for 30 minutes to overnight.

Wash all vegetables and berries, dry, and cut into small pieces.  Toss together chopped vegetables in a bowl.  Shake dressing up and pour over the salad, tossing to coat.  Sprinkle with toppings as desired (croutons, bacon, cheese) and serve immediately.

(serves 4 as a side, 2 as a main)

This is it, folks.  This is the last recipe in the official Rhubarb Fest here on SFTF.  Won’t you miss that glaring shade of pink font?  There may be a few stragglers to come, but both my kitchen and my garden have moved on from the ephemeral spring beauty of rhubarb to the boisterous abundance of early summer.   Now that my harvest basket is brimming daily with sugar snap peas, kohlrabi, beets, lettuces, radishes, broccoli and more, it’s tough to stay focused on one exclusive ingredient.  Can you blame me? 

But celebrating rhubarb has been fun, hasn’t it?  I discovered several new and delicious recipes, all of which astonishingly excluded strawberries, rhubarb’s bestest buddy ever!   Of course I saved the best for last.   This batch of Rhubarb Lavender Jam combines so many of my favorite flavors: sassy rhubarb, floral lavender, and wildflower honey, all of which came out of my garden in one way or another.    I also love that this jam does not require any pectin.  It’s not that I mind pectin in my jam.  I just mind the inevitable realization that I used up the last of my stash and never remembered to replace it (pectin’s tough to find in bulk here in the city so I buy mine at the little local store by my parents’ farm when I’m visiting). 

If you’re not a master jam maker – and I certainly don’t consider myself to be one like Tigress in a Jam, the creator of this recipe – this is an easy beginners batch.  The ingredients take minimal processing and you can’t really mess it up as you can keep cooking it if you aren’t sure that its ready to set up.  Rhubarb takes a licking and keeps on ticking like that.   And this jam does indeed set up beautifully.

If you’re not a big fan of lavender but you like the sound of rhubarb jam, I’m certain you could make this without the herbal addition.  Or, better yet, try an herb you do like, maybe rosemary, mint, or even chamomile.    And, yes, strawberries could make an appearance too if you don’t want plain ol’ boring rhubarb.   Oh dear, have I given you the impression that I don’t like strawberries?  Oh, but I do!  In fact, I have two large patches of alpine strawberry plants – one in my garden and one in large containers on my deck – that I just can’t wait to start picking from, likely beginning next week as the first berries are just taking on color.  But I really do like showcasing rhubarb as a  luscious “fruit” not to be upstaged by that perky juicy red berry. 

Oh, would you like to know my goal for next year?  To make this same recipe using only ingredients I’ve grown myself.  My lemon tree, which is currently sitting in a large clay pot in my garden and growing like mad, should be bearing plenty of lemons next spring.  And instead of sugar, I’m going to try using ground stevia, a sweet herb I currently grow to sweeten my homemade herbal tea blends.  I’m growing enough of it this year that I should have cups of it dried and ground for storing over the winter.   Fun, huh? 

Rhubarb Lavender Jam
Adapted from Tigress in a Jam

6 C. rhubarb, finely chopped
2 ½ C. granulated sugar
2 lemons
5-8 fresh lavender sprigs
7 oz. wildflower honey

Wash the rhubarb thoroughly and cut any thick stalks in half lengthwise.  Finely chop rhubarb and measure out six cups into a large ceramic bowl.  Add sugar, juice of one lemon, and the florets only of the lavender.  Stir gently to make sure all the rhubarb is coated and the sugar is not sitting at the bottom of the bowl.  Cover with a plate or foil and set in the fridge to macerate overnight.

The next morning, place one or two small plates in the freezer for later use. Gather five small jam jars and sterilize either in the dishwasher or by place a small amount of water in the bottom of each one an microwaving them for 3 minutes on high.  Empty out any remaining water and set aside.  Meanwhile, place the lids in a shallow pan, covered with water, and simmer on the stove until ready to use. 

Place the rhubarb mixture in a fine mesh strainer and collect juice in a non-reactive (stainless steel) pan. Add honey and bring the liquid to a boil. Skim any foam that collects on top and continue boiling until it is very hot and steaming, about 4-5 minutes.

Add the rhubarb mixture to the liquid in the pan and return it to a boil, carefully skimming any foam that gathers on top.  Add juice of the other lemon and continue cooking at a boil for 5-6 minutes, stirring and skimming as needed.

Take jam off heat and use a potato masher to break up any remaining solid pieces of rhubarb. Check the set of the jam by taking a plate from the freezer and dropping a small spoonful of jam on it and let it sit for a moment.  Pass a finger through the middle of the jam.  If it is set, there will be a clear line left behind.   If the jam runs back together, return the pot to the heat and boil for another minute or two and try the “set test” again with a fresh plate from the freezer.  Repeat as needed to get the jam to set.

Remove the simmering lids from the stove and drain off the water.  Put a sterilized jar in a small bowl (to catch any drips and to protect your hands from the heat) and ladle hot jam into it.  Wipe the rim and threaded mouth clean before screwing on the lid.  Turn upside down to cool and repeat until all jam is in jars. 

After an hour or two, turn jars up right and let cool completely.  Check to see if lids sealed by pressing on them.  If they give or pop, they are not sealed and must be stored in the fridge.  If they have sealed, store in a cupboard.  This makes a small batch so I did not bother to process them in a hot water bath.  If you wish to make larger batches or store for a long length of time, follow these instructions. 

(makes 4-5 half pint jars)

Who doesn’t love a tasty tender muffin that’s not too-too sweet for breakfast?  I certainly adore such muffins myself though I rarely remember to make them except when I’m expecting company and want to have something a little more unique than the standard bagel and cream cheese fare.  Thankfully, Rhubarb Fest is marching onward here at SFTF so I was prompted to search for a good recipe that would both use up some fading stalks and not require a second trip to the store in one day.  This batch of Cinnamon Rhubarb Muffins had a wonderfully subtle spicy tart flavor, putting them squarely at the top of my list for the next time I want to impress overnight guests.

While I was spooning the batter for these muffins into the tins, I got to wondering what the defining difference is between a muffin and a cupcake.   Is it just the presence or absence of icing that divides the two?   I mean, could I very well slap a cream cheese frosting on these diminutive rhubarb cake-like desserts and declare them “cupcakes!”, should I be so inclined?  Of course this required a little follow-up on my part, the perfect entertainment for me while the muffins baked.   Here are the definitions from Dictionary.com.

Muffin: an individual cup-shaped quick bread made with wheat flour, cornmeal, or the like, and baked in a pan (muffin pan) containing a series of cuplike forms.

Cupcake: a small cake, the size of an individual portion, baked in a cup-shaped mold.

Hmmm… no where do they mention the icing.  Okay.  So, the only thing I can see that sets them apart are the terms “quick bread” and “cake”.

Time to look up more definitions….

Quick Bread: bread, muffins, etc., made with a leavening agent, as baking powder or soda, that permits immediate baking.

Cake: a sweet, baked, breadlike food, made with or without shortening, and usually containing flour, sugar, baking powder or soda, eggs, and liquid flavoring.

What the!?!?  Both use leavening agents and cake is a “breadlike food” apparently.  Anyone else confused?  Time to hit up ye ol’ search engine and get an expert opinion.   The lovely folks over at CakeSpy.com have a wonderfully on-target expose on the subject matter.  I’ll refer you there for the full story, but wanted to pull out this quote that’s actually from Melissa Clark’s NY Times article where she too asks a pastry chef friend what the difference is between a muffin and a cupcake:

”Nothing,” he said, explaining that when it comes to breakfast, Americans have a Puritanical inhibition. ”Muffins are just an excuse to eat cake for breakfast,” he said.

So, now I don’t feel so bad.  I’m not the only one who thinks these individually portioned cup-shaped treats are virtually indistinguishable, save perhaps, but only perhaps, by the icing on top.  In the end, all I know is that I really needed that big cup of tea and the muffin to stop my head from spinning when it was all said and done!

Cinnamon Rhubarb Muffins
Loosely adapted from the Practical Encyclopedia of Baking

Batter
1 ½ C. flour
1/3 C. white sugar
1/3 C. packed light brown sugar
2 t. baking powder
Pinch of salt
2 t. cinnamon
1 t. freshly ground nutmeg
1 stick (½ cup) butter, melted
1 egg, beaten
½ C. milk
1 ½ C. finely chopped rhubarb

Topping
1/3 C. packed dark brown sugar
3 T. flour
3 t. cinnamon
1 t. freshly ground nutmeg
2 T. butter, chopped into small cubes

Preheat oven to 350 F.  Line 12 cup muffin pan with paper liners.  Melt the stick of butter and set aside.

Combine all the dry ingredients in a mixing bowl and stir to blend.  Make a well in the center and place the melted butter, beaten egg, and milk in it.  Stir until just combined (do not overwork the batter as it will toughen up the resulting muffins).  Stir in rhubarb and spoon batter into prepared muffin cups, filling them fairly full as these muffins do not rise a lot. 

For the topping, combine the sugar, flour, cinnamon and nutmeg.  Combine with butter cubes, using your fingers to work it until it forms nice crumbles.  Sprinkle a teaspoon or so of topping over each muffin. 

Bake until browned and springy, about 25 minutes.  Remove from pans and set on a dish towel or rack to cool.  Delicious served warm with a pat of butter. 

(makes 12)

Time for a change of pace, my friendly readers.  We’re still in the midst of the Rhubarb Fest in the SFTF kitchen, but I seem to have misplaced the cord I need to download the latest pictures from my camera (eek!) so we’ll dive into the drafts I was holding onto until after the pink-tinged wave of recipes had subsided.  Don’t worry.  We aren’t going to stray far from the theme of seasonal sweet treats using red-hued local produce.  Indeed, Strawberry Vanilla Ice Cream is a perfect companion for just about any rhubarb concoction. 

I can think of very few things that are more delicious than the combination of juicy just-picked strawberries and cold rich cream.  There’s something just downright luscious about it.  Every year when strawberry season rolls around again, I hunt down a pick-your-own place and go a little crazy.  It’s typically proven to be a rather expensive splurge, but it’s worth it.  This year I planted dozens of alpine strawberry plants (Fragaria vesca ‘Semperflorens’) in my garden and in containers around my deck.  They haven’t yet produced any fruit this year, though they do have plenty of flowers and buds presently.  The glory of the smaller and sweeter alpine strawberry is that it fruits all summer long, not just in June like the more robust and common commercial strawberry (Fragaria x ananassa). 

While I await the arrival of my first baby berry, I was happy to chunk up these local strawberries from the farmers market, freezing them with some thick and frothy raw cow’s milk that I brought back with me from my family’s dairy farm.  I know that you all probably think of supporting your local farmers all the time by buying your vegetables and fruit from them.  I would encourage you (even nearly beg you) to not forget to do the same with dairy farmers who are selling milk and cheese and even occasionally ice cream.  Right now the small-to-mid-size family-run dairy farms of our nation are suffering horribly from a crippling price slump in the milk market.  My brother, who is trying very hard to keep the farm that’s been in our family for five generations operating, tells me just the basic daily operations of farming are causing him to pretty much hemorrhage money.   The only apparent salvation is to sell our farm’s milk (and maybe cheese too) to the public directly and hope that they are willing to buy from us instead of the supermarket.  So, please, remember your local dairy farmers too when you’re making your purchases. 

And once you’ve gotten some of that delicious farm fresh milk, be sure to make homemade ice cream pronto!!  There’s nothing quite like it…a sweet and creamy summer dream to combat the current muggy heat. 

Strawberry Vanilla Ice Cream
A Straight from the Farm Original

3/4 C. sugar
1 C. whole milk (raw if possible)
1/4 t. salt
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped
3 egg yolk, lightly beaten
2 C. heavy cream
1 C. finely diced fresh strawberries
1/4 C. sugar

Combine sugar, milk, salt, and scraped vanilla bean and pods in a saucepan over low heat.  Stir until the mixture just begins to steam and simmer.   Place the egg yolks into a small bowl. Gradually stir in about 1/2 cup of the hot liquid to temper the eggs and return everything to the saucepan. Heat until thickened, about 5 minutes, but be careful not to boil. Remove from the heat, and pour into a chilled bowl and refrigerate for at least two hours or overnight.   

Using a slotted spoon, fish out the vanilla pods from the chilled custard.  Whip the heavy cream until it forms soft peaks and gently fold into the custard mixture. Pour into an ice cream maker, and freeze according to manufacturer’s directions.  Meanwhile, combine the diced strawberries with the remaining sugar and set aside.

When ice cream is done churning, scoop out into a container with a lid.  Fold in the strawberries while ice cream is still soft.  Cover container tightly and place in freezer to firm up, about 3-4 hours. 

(makes 1 quart)

We’ve hit the jackpot again, folks!  Another recipe that, should I ever have the good fortune to open a restaurant or become a caterer, would surely be a signature dish and have folks lining up at the door, whispering in reverent tones that they’ve come for the Rhubarb Fool Over Old-Fashioned Angel Food Cake.  That and the Roasted Rosemary Potato Leek Soup and the Georgia Peanut Soup and the Honey-Ginger Carrot Parsnip Latkes and the Roasted Root and Ricotta Pizza and the Roasted Sweet Potato and Cauliflower Mash and the Fresh Fig Compote and the Parsnip Spiced Cupcakes with Ginger Cream Cheese Frosting and the….   well, you get the idea.  I kind of have this all planned out, ya know.

But today’s post is all about this slightly messy and tremendously rich and tasty glass full of goodness.  Within it nestles angel food cake made with gorgeous farm fresh eggs from my friend E’s chickens layered with freshly whipped cream and stewed rhubarb that still has its tangy bite to balance the almondy sweetness of the airy cake cubes.   It’s the whipped cream and stewed rhubarb that make up the “rhubarb fool”, a term that is decidedly British.  If you’re feeling foolish for not knowing what a fruit fool is, stop on over at Joy of Baking and get the details. 

Now, I have to tell you a story.  Pull up a chair and get comfy if you haven’t already.  You see, I really wanted to name this dish “Rhubarb Slop”, but I figured it wouldn’t sell to the masses nearly as well.  But in my mind, this style of dessert will always be “slop”.  Huh?!?

As I was growing up, my mom made, with some regularity, a big old bowl of cake cubes (usually angel food), whipped cream (though I think she used Cool Whip) and whatever fruit was in season macerated in sugar, all tossed together in an alarmingly sloppy way, though it was ridiculously delicious and one of my perennial favorites as a child.  My poor mom always wanted us to call it a fruit trifle, but my impish brothers all insisted on calling it “slop” and I soon followed their lead, though today I feel my mother’s pain for having a delicious seasonal dessert defamed by such a title.   So, call it what you want as long as you promise not to make a fool of yourself by licking the slop off the bowl and trifling with the manners of those around you. 

Sick of reading about rhubarb (shame on you!) and wondering what else is in season right now?  Check out these fine recipes:

Kohlrabi and Carrot Salad
Roasted Garlic Scapes and New Potatoes
Garlic Mustard Pesto
Pea Shoots in Fillo Dough

Angel Food Cake
Adapted from The Practical Encyclopedia of Baking

1 C. cake flour
1 1/2 C. superfine sugar
1 1/4 C. egg whites (about 10 eggs)
1 1/4 t. cream of tartar
1/4 t. salt
1 t. vanilla extract
1/4 t. almond extract

Preheat oven to 325 F.

Sift the flour before measuring and then sift it again with 1/2 cup of sugar onto a piece of parchment or wax paper.  Set aside.   

With an electric mixer, beat the egg whites until foamy.  Sift over the cream of tartar and salt and continue to beat until they hold soft peaks.  Add the remaining sugar in 3 batches, beathing well after each addition.  Stir in the vanilla and almond extracts.

Sift the flour mixture, 1/2 cup at a time, over the egg mixture and fold in with a large metal spoon after each addition.  Transfer batter to an ungreased tube pan.  Bake until delicately browned on top, about 1 hour.

Turn the pan upside down onto a cake rack or tea towel and let cool for an hour or so.  If the cake does not unmold on its own, carefully run a sharp knife around the edge to loosen it.   Invert on a serving plate. 

Rhubarb Fool

2 C. diced rhubarb
1 C. white sugar
1/2 C. brown sugar
1 C. water
1 C. heavy cream

Combine the sugars and water in a small saucepan and heat over medium heat until sugars are disolved.  Add rhubarb and cook until soft, about 4 minutes.   Remove from heat and chill for at least 4 hours.

Whip heavy cream until soft peaks form.  Gently fold in, but do not overmix, cooled rhubarb.   

To serve as Rhubarb Fool over Angel Food Cake, top cubes of angel food cake with rhubarb fool.

(serves 12)

It’s been interesting, picking recipes for this Rhubarb Fest.  There’s bushel loads of recipes for strawberry rhubarb this and strawberry rhubarb that.  The rhubarb always seems to be thrown in just because, well, maybe people were getting tired of just plain strawberry or they were a little intimidated with rhubarb standing on its own ruby red feet, er, stalks.  Do you know what I mean? 

Truth be told, while I really do love those juicy berries, if I had to pick between having rhubarb or strawberries for a summer, I’d pick the rhubarb.  It’s no doubt in large part for the memories it drums up of my grandmother’s big old patch in her garden, though there were plenty of strawberries in that garden too.  I also really enjoy the tart ting and pink blush rhubarb brings to every dish it enters.   But not everyone does, as demonstrated by D’s latest remark, something along the lines of it tasting medicinal. 

But wait!  Lest you stop reading right there, let me assure you that this Spiced Rhubarb Sorbet is the best kind of medicine – delicious, mysteriously creamy (though not a drop of cream went into it), low in fat, and the perfect pick-me-up after one has spent a hot morning power washing the deck, among other things.  Don’t let the Pepto-Bismol pink put you off.  That’s where the resemblance to medicine ends, I promise. 

The notes of the spices play delicately and quietly next to the powerful crescendo of rhubarb in every bite.  This is not a sorbet for the rhubarb skeptic, that’s for sure.  I personally can’t stop eating it; the taste and texture are just downright addictive.  But, should you be not quite the Number One Fan of rhubarb (sorry, that coveted titled is already taken by yours truly anyway), I’m absolutely certain substituting strawberries for half of the rhubarb and cutting back the sugar to just a cup would yield a seriously scrumptious sorbet too. 

Spiced Rhubarb Sorbet
A Straight from the Farm Original

2 C. water
1 1/3 C. sugar
1 cinnamon stick
1 star anise
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped
3 C. diced rhubarb
1 egg white (optional)
1 T. vodka  (optional)

Combine the water, sugar, cinnamon stick, star anise, and scraped vanilla beans and pod in a heavy saucepan. Bring to a boil, reduce heat to low and simmer for 5 minutes.

With a slotted spoon, remove the spices from the saucepan. Add the diced rhubarb and bring to a boil once again. Cook until rhubarb is soft, about 3 minutes. Let cool slightly and puree in blender. Work the puree through a fine mesh strainer to remove the rhubarb fibers.

Chill over an ice bath in the fridge until very cold. Whisk the egg white in a small bowl before adding to the rhubarb mixture. Transfer to an ice cream maker and churn according to manufacturer directions. Add the vodka just before stopping the churning (vodka helps keep the sorbet from crystalizing in the freezer).

Transfer to a container with a sealable lid and place in the freezer until set up, about 4 to 6 hours.

(makes about 1 quart)

Guess what?  Today the blog turns TWO!   Part of me feels like this blog has been with me forever while the other part of me can’t believe it’s been two whole years already!  I adore writing and photographing for these delicious posts, and I can’t thank you all enough for coming around to indulge my creative fantasies.  In honor of this special occasion, I’m launching Rhubarb Fest here on the blog — an outright barrage of recipes for one of my favorite ingredients of all time and a beautiful one to boot! 

We’ll start off the pink-infused festivities and the third year of SFTF with this delightful recipe for Candied Rhubarb and Kumquats, which are basically Part II of the Chocolate Pavlova recipe in the last post.   Now, while the rhubarb is most definitely a local and very seasonal ingredient, you may be bulking at the idea of kumquats showing up here on SFTF.  While this dainty citrus is indeed often an import, I gleaned mine from a lovely group of trees grown indoors where I work.    I have also recently acquired a baby kumquat tree of my very own and hope it will put on fruit by next year.  These trees, which remain rather small and bear the fruit that reminds me of sour gummy worms, are very easy to grow as glorified houseplants that take their summer vacation out on the patio or deck.  I’d encourage you to look into getting one if you like citrus but wish you didn’t have to buy it in from far away. 

Back to the star of the show though.  This rhubarb is part of a bunch I got at the Headhouse Farmers Market.  Stored wrapped in an ever so slightly damp paper towel in a sealed ziplock bag, rhubarb will keep for a week or two, maybe even more, in the fridge.   It makes for wonderful warm sauces, jams, compotes, cakes, pies, “fools”, muffins, and even savory toppings for chicken.    This candied version is one of my favorite preparations to date. 

The combination of the candied rhubarb and kumquats is a match made in heaven.  Both retain their penchant for being ever so slightly tart and their bright hues, giving the candied results as complex flavor and some of the most beautiful colors you can find in the food world.   Atop the pillowy chocolate meringue and pile of whipped cream of the pavlova, these lovelies made for a sinfully rich dessert that demands your full attention. 

If you’re not up to making the pavlova recipe, use the candied rhubarb and kumquats to top just about anything –  pound cake, ice cream, waffles — or just grab them without shame out of their jars and lick your sticky fingers with glee.    The syrup created when the rhubarb is candied can be used to infuse club soda or ginger ale to make a refreshing summer spritzer.  Add a little vanilla vodka and crushed mint and you have a cocktail worthy of any garden party or reception.

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Candied Rhubarb and Kumquats
A Straight from the Farm Original

2 C. water
2 C. sugar
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped
2 C. kumquats, split in half and de-seeded
2 C. rhubarb, cut into 1 inch lengths
1 t. freshly grated ginger

*You can certainly just make one type of these or combine them both in one saucepan instead of cooking separately.  I wanted to do make both just a little differently so I’ve split the preparations for the two. 

Begin by bringing a large pot of water to a boil and blanching the kumquats for 2 minutes.  Use a slotted spoon to remove the kumquats from the boiling water and into a bowl of ice water.  Allow kumquats to cool for a few minutes in the water before draining off.  Set aside.

In a medium heavy saucepan, combine the 2 cups water, 2 cups sugar, and vanilla bean.  Bring to a gentle boil for a minute or two to create a simple syrup.  Carefully ladle half the syrup into another medium heavy saucepan. 

With both saucepans over medium heat, place the blanched kumquats in one and the chopped rhubarb in the other.  Add the ginger to the rhubarb pan only.   Monitor and regularly stir both pans, cooking at a simmer for 15 minutes or until tender. 

Use a slotted spoon to remove kumquats and rhubarb to separate bowls.   Keep both pans of syrup on the stove and bring back to a gentle boil, cooking until syrup is noticeably reduced, about 5-7 minutes. 

I placed my kumquats in a jar with their reduced syrup and stored in the fridge.   The rhubarb syrup I cooled and stored separately in a jar to use over French toast and to make a rhubarb spritzer.  The rhubarb pieces I drained very well and let dry on wax paper before rolling them in vanilla sugar and storing them in a sealed tupperware.

(makes about 1 cup of each fruit)

The evenings are getting long again with warm breezes and a sun that seems to have incredible staying power even though it hangs so heavily, winking at the horizon.  With summer twilights come a distinctive food memory for me and the predictable craving that follows.  There’s something about pavlova with seasonal fruit that is intrinsically tied to summer in my mind.   What’s that?  You’ve never hear of pavlova?  My, my, my, you are in for one amazing treat, especially with this unique twist of Chocolate Pavlova (with Candied Kumquats and Rhubarb).

I hope it’s not too pretentious to quote myself, but I really want to tell this story again since there are so many more of you reading now than when I first wrote it:

“I first came across fresh fruit pavlova while living in Belfast, Northern Ireland.  I can remember everything about the scene of my first bite – it was that delightful.  A crisp shell of a meringue with a melt-y middle topped with ever-so-slightly sweet fresh whipped cream and (for that first encounter) kiwis and blueberries spilling off the plate.   If ever the heavens should point a sunbeam directly on my head and issue forth an angelic chorus, it should have been at the moment of my first bite in that roadside Irish inn. 

Since then, I’ve learned this dessert really hails from New Zealand and was named after a Russian ballerina so I think it classifies as an international dish even though there’s nothing regionally distinctive in its flavors.  Don’t be intimidated by the length of the recipe directions.  It really is just a lot of mixing and that’s all.  These little puffs of marshmallow-y delight are well worth the 20 minutes of shouting required to be heard over the mixer.”

Today’s recipe features the most amazing pale blue eggs laid by my friend E’s Araucana chickens.  Aren’t they so very beautiful?  They were also impressively tasty in this meringue and formed stiff peaks in a flash.   I know I’ve got on a soapbox on here before about how much better local fresh eggs are than those bought in the supermarket so I’ll spare you the sermon this time.  Just do me a favor and see if you can find some local eggs, will ya?

Now, yes, this is a bit of a tease. I’m showing you some of the delicious candied fruit topping for this pavlova without giving you the recipe…just yet.   I promise, next post will have a simple recipe for candying kumquats and rhubarb and just about anything else your heart desires.  In the meantime, make your meringue bases in preparation for pulling out the big dessert guns at your Memorial Day picnics this weekend! 

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SFTF is on TWITTER!  Don’t worry, I won’t be talking about what I had for lunch or when my cat scratched me last.  Tweets will contain alerts to new posts and links to fun sites and resources that don’t merit a full post here on the blog.  Good stuff only, I promise!  Become a follower by clicking on the link below and make me feel special.

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CHOCOLATE PAVLOVA
Taken from Martha Stewart Living, April ‘09

4 large egg whites, room temperature
1/4 cup dark-brown sugar
3/4 cup superfine sugar
Pinch of salt
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons Dutch-process unsweetened cocoa powder

Preheat oven to 300 degrees. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment.

Mix whites, sugars, and salt in a mixer bowl set over a pan of simmering water. Whisk constantly until sugars dissolve and mixture is warm, about 3 minutes. Remove from heat, and whisk on medium-high speed until stiff peaks form, about 6-8 minutes. Beat in vanilla.

Sift cocoa powder over meringue, and fold until barely any streaks remain. Using an spatula or large spoon, spread meringue into 5 or 6 evenly sized rounds, about 4 inches in diameter. Be careful not to spread out too much; meringue will spread more during baking. Forma  little indentation in the center of each. 

Bake meringue until dry to the touch, about 1 hour. Let cool on sheet on wire rack. Meringue will keep, covered in the fridge, for up to 3 days.

To assemble and serve pavlova: Beat fresh whipping cream with a touch of sugar (taste to ensure sweetness is as desired) until soft peaks form.  Spread whipped cream over the chocolate meringue.  Top with fresh fruit or with candied kumquats and rhubarb as I did.  Serve immediately!

(serves 5-6)