I’ve been adding almost daily to overflowing baskets of ruby red Juliets. Friends and family are sent home with armfuls. Neighbors who stroll past me watering my flower beds in the evening ask me about my tomatoes and I send them home with handfulls too. These red fruit have brought smiles when most needed.
This has been a particularly stressful week at Gothic Cottage. I felt like a caretaker of an infant and a toddler, without the added advantage of diapers for cats. An incontinent Yoshi has struggled through much pain and left me struggling to find enough newsprint to line the floor. He relieved himself all over Vancouver Island’s Splendid Other Coast, Tilda Swinton, and Fashion’s Fall Fling with Splatter Prints. In the midst of the incontinence chaos Chika was hit by a car and is nursing wounded legs and trauma to her bladder.
Ashley’s arrival on Friday couldn’t have been better timed. With fresh news from the vet that there was one more drug which may save Yoshi’s life and Chika loved up on kitty ecstasy, I could relax a little bit. Stacey tipped me off last week to the Rebar cookbook’s slow roast tomato recipe - perfect for roma type tomatoes and so easy. The tomatoes cooked through the washing of floors, the laundering of bedding, the cleaning of litter, a visit to the vets, and a pick up at the train station. They were in the oven a little too long at over four hours but I had faith in my Juliets.
I also had the perfect test subject in my old pal Ashley - she’s not a tomato fan and she’s an amateur cook. Ashley knows good food and I wanted to treat her to something tasty. Anyone who brings me a $35 bottle of knockout Norman Hardie pinot noir straight from Norm’s winery in Prince Edward County is going to be treated to fine food! For a starter I stacked the shriveled but brilliantly deep red roasted Juliets atop homemade garlic crostini and humous. And for the main I just tossed a good serving of the toms into a simple pasta dish with garlic braised green beans, chickpeas, olive oil, lemon juice and grated Parmesan.
And the verdict? Ashley couldn’t believe that there was no sugar or honey added to the tomatoes. She couldn’t believe that they came from my garden. She couldn’t stop saying how delicious they were. And we hadn’t even started the main course yet.
We ate Juliet garlic crostini again last night and now back in Toronto, Ashley has a travel-friendly portion of my Juliets roasting in her oven as I write. I think I found a winner. These little flavour bombs are the best way I’ve found to put Juliets to bed, and all the better if you’re inundated with distractions and in need of a gourmet hit at home.
10 tomatoes, halved (I used enough halved Juliets to fill two baking sheets and found the following portions sufficient for this quantity of tomatoes)
¼ cup (60 mL) extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp (5 mL) salt
¼ tsp (1.2 mL) cracked pepper
2 tbsp (30 mL) minced thyme or rosemary
1. Pre-heat oven to 250 F. Slice tomatoes in half and arrange, cut side up, on a parchment-lined baking tray. Brush lightly with olive oil and sprinkle with salt, pepper and chopped fresh herbs.
2. Roast tomatoes for up to 4 hours, or until they are visibly dehydrated yet still meaty. Cool and refrigerate for up to one week.
Rebar’s Garlic Crostini
1 baguette, plain, wholegrain or sourdough
¼ cup (60 mL) extra virgin olive oil
2 garlic cloves
Pre-heat oven to 350 F. Slice baguette ½” thick on the bias. Arrange on a baking tray and brush with oil. Bake until golden (5-10 minutes). Cut garlic cloves in half and rub the cut side of the clove on the toasted bread.
I realize that food photography rarely makes the mark when lighting isn’t cooperating. But this salad is so insanely delicious I can’t wait til the sun decides to come out again to share it.
Hooray for ripe tomatoes! These orange cherry tomatoes aren’t mine - I picked them up from a Mennonite family’s organic stall at the Guelph Farmers Market this morning. The feta is also local, from Rivers Edge Goat Dairy. If you can find fresh ingredients, I guarantee this salad will tickle your tastebuds! It’s the perfect balance of sweet and savory, and in my opinion one of the best ways to enjoy ripe cherry tomatoes.
It’s also the ideal compliment to Rebar’s basil vinaigrette, which I have two cups of thanks to Heidi. Last Monday she left me with a large bag of licorice-y basil from her Ottawa garden on the strict provision that I use it to make the Rebar dressing. If you have a bottle of organic olive oil - the kind my culinarily-inclined friend Ashley has instructed me to “ONLY use for dressings and dipping because it’s so mind-blowingly tasty” - use it here! This is a dressing to splurge on. You won’t regret it and you’ll be enjoying the lovely flavour of your basil all summer long.
Recommended bouncy listening to accompany preparation: Silicone Soul, Right On, Right On (yes, just one song, it’s that snappy!)
My taste buds are dancing for the early Ontario peaches!
What a perfect treat in the sunshine. I have plans to stock up and store some for the cold months. Any suggestions for outstanding recipes? Peach chutney, peach jam, sliced frozen peaches… what am I missing? I have this weekend entirely to myself, which I’m so looking forward to. The last time I had four consecutive days all to myself was early May. But in the interest of not living off baking in my solitude, a little preserving when the sun goes down is the goal.
For those of you spending the weekend with family and friends, this French recipe for Peach Apricot Compote with Red Poppy Cream served with lady fingers is sure to knock the socks off your company. Let me know if you’re able to find the flower syrup without taking a trip to Paris… apparently pomegranate or strawberry syrup can be substituted.
In any case, please do pass on yummy fruit preserving recipes and I promise to share mine too!
The morning after Roddy and I arrived back in Canada I had bags of energy. I guess that’s what a fabulous holiday blesses you with - high spirited enthusiasm. I was so excited to greet my mom in her pajamas and hug her in her kitchen with the smell of baking filling the house.
I made these cookies on recommendation of my dear friend German Jenny (the name has stuck - I have an abundance of Jenns, Jennies and Jennys in my life). Their German name is vanille kipferl but I’m pretty sure we call the cookies almond cresents over here. I made a double batch over the holidays which I gifted to friends (including Jennie B - also of German heritage but not to be confused with German Jenny) and family (my mom - see fingers above - was the first to try these divine wonders). I missed them so much in Scotland I made them again at Shona and Al’s to share with revelers at the bonfire party. They didn’t taste the same though.
When Roddy and I returned to my folks place for a night after our vacation I nosed through a bag of goodies my mom had set aside for me. It was mainly filled with stuff I had left lying around their house over the holidays, but I was most amused by a little bag of an unassuming ingredient. I must have had visions of ground almonds dancing in my head that night, for when I woke I was like a whirlwind in the kitchen whipping up one last batch of vanille kipferl. It felt like my last breath of freedom before the holiday was over and I returned to work. Like running into the ocean or down to the lake for one last dip.
The Christmas spirit caught up to me quite late last year. Maybe it’s because Roddy left for Scotland in early December and I was all by my lonesome for a couple of weeks here at the farm. Now that I am armed with this fabulous recipe I think I’ll be milking the season with these bad boys by late November. YUM! I miss them already…
Food never looks attractive under harsh lamps and unnatural lighting, but I couldn’t resist sharing this fantastically simple and delicious recipe. I’ve developed an intense fondness for a veggie that’s often overlooked these days. It’s not very striking, but cooked the right way this veg becomes the stuff of dreams.
The humble parsnip is my new go-to comfort food. Tonight I was craving salty and sweet - chips and chocolate, right?! I thought so, but then I remembered what was waiting in the crisper: parsnips and beets. Perfect! I tossed the two root vegetables with olive oil and salt, roasted them, et voila! Salty and sweet, tender and crunchy morsels. With a simple accompaniment of mayonnaise and spicy dijon mustard for the ’snip chips, and a garnish of parsley you have the perfect craving buster meal!
I love the rosey blush the parsnips bear from being kissed by the indelible beetroot. Deep red, white and green make this an excellent festive side dish too. Beautiful! How do you like your snips? I need to expand my recipe bank for this fine root.
Parsnip Chips
Servings: 2
2 large parsnips
1 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
2 pinches coarse sea salt
Preheat oven to 400 degrees Celsius. Slice the parsnips into thick cut chips. Toss in a bowl with olive oil and salt, tip onto a baking sheet and arrange so that the skins make contact with the baking sheet. Roast for 20 minutes or until tender and skins are browned. Serve hot with favorite condiments (and parsley if on hand - it looks pretty and it’s loaded with nutrients!).
NB: If you’re roasting beets as well, just toss four peeled and quartered beets with the parsnips, oil and salt, but throw them in the oven 10-15 minutes before the ’snip chips to give them enough time to cook through.
Our five zucchini plants have been working overtime pumping out massive zucs. Up until last week I had been able to keep up with the supply by concocting yummy desserts. One a week for the past month to be precise. I’m not one to bake the same dessert four times in a row, however, I found a quick and finger licking recipe that proved itself to be a winner. It also saved many overgrown veggies from being tossed into the compost.
This chocolate zucchini cake recipe is incredibly delicious. It was created by Parisian cookbook author and food blogger Clotilde Dousilier, who tested many recipes before creating her own hybrid. For my first attempt this summer I tried my aunt’s healthy version. It tasted like a low calorie snacking cake. The next three cakes were Clotilde’s recipe, and they blew my aunt’s right out of contention. This fluffy, chocolately cake is a godsend for anyone stuck with zucs that grow with vigour and take up too much valuable refridgerator space. Not only is it a big winner on taste, it’s also a generous cake. So even with three sets of wandering fingers returning for top-ups, this cake is substantial enough to last a few days.
And the best part? You don’t have to suffer cake overload or tooth rot during the growing season (like I did). Instead, grate your zucchinis, divide them into 2 cup servings in freezer bags, and freeze for cakes throughout the winter and spring. I also recommend employing the services of a fit young man to grate overgrown clubs. Since mid August some of our runaway courgettes have grown into such unfathomable beasts that I can barely grip them with one of my small hands.
Chocolate & Zucchini Cake
Servings: 12-16
1 ½ (180 g) cups all purpose flour
½ cup (40 g) whole wheat flour
½ cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp baking powder
½ tsp salt
½ cup (110 g) butter, softened
1 cup (160 g) light brown sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 tsp instant coffee granules
3 eggs, at room temperature
2 cups zucchini, unpeeled, grated (about 280 g, two medium)
1 cup (170 g) chocolate chips
Topping:
40 g light brown sugar
½ cup (70 g) hazelnuts, toasted and chopped
Preheat the oven to 180°C (360°F). Grease a 3 L springform cake pan, and flour it or sprinkle with cocoa powder.
Sift cocoa. Mix all the dry ingredients and set aside ½ cup. In a separate bowl cream the butter and sugar, then add eggs and vanilla to the wet mixture. Add the dry mix to the wet and combine. Add the reserved ½ cup of dry mix to the grated zucchini and chocolate chips to coat them, then add to the main mixture, creating a thick batter.
Pour into a spring form pan and smooth out surface with a spatula. Combine the topping ingredients in a small bowl, and sprinkle over cake. Bake for 40 – 50 minutes or until a skewer comes out clean.
NB: In one version of this recipe I used Rapunzel’s Organic Cocoa and the result was noticeably more chocolatey - well worth the splurge. I also omitted the coffee granules and hazelnuts, and the cake didn’t suffer from the loss.
Life without music is a life not worth living. Life without a record player is possible, but strained.
When Roddy and I moved out west we ruthlessly downsized and lived with only the necessesities. Among the “stuff” that didn’t make the shortlist was a record player. I continued to collect records, but only the bare necessities that my small collection would be incomplete without. For example, I couldn’t just walk on by Dionne Warwick when her greatest hits were going for a mere two dollars!
My little collection on the coast, however, was a source of pain without a means to relish in the sweet melodies. The stack tormented me and as the months wore on I acquired a severe case of vinyl withdrawl. This may sound melodramatic, but records have always been a massive part of my life. When I was wee, time spent indoors revolved around what music was spinning on the turntable, and my family had masses of records stored at floor level to give me easy access. While living in the UK, I gave up two nights a week for 3 months to work behind the bar of a club so I could soak up live house music and get paid for it. And I still get a kick out of listening to Roddy’s funky house mixes from his DJing days - a panacea for watching him spin in the flesh.
This weekend my two year vinyl hiatus finally came to an end. I fled my farm duties for a break at my family’s cottage just south of Algonquin Provincial Park. Before even jumping in the lake, I placed the needle gently over Elton John’s ‘Your Song’ so I could relieve 730 days of built up harmonic tension.
I am now a whole person again.
With renewed enthusiasm and uplifted spirit, Gladys Knight and The Pips accompanied Jude, my mom and I in baking a pie with scrumptious local rasperries, strawberries, and blueberries. I’m sure it was the soul diva’s sweet voice that inspired me to reach for the maple syrup instead of the sugar. So I have an old record player to thank for this locavore original.
Maple Berry Pie
Servings: 8
2 10” pie crusts
4 ¼ cups mixed seasonal berries (cut to equal sizes if necessary)
1 cup maple syrup (more for sweet tooth)
4 tbsp flour
Preheat oven to 425 F (220 C). In a large bowl, mix together berries and coat with flour. Add maple syrup and mix thoroughly. Place in one pie shell, cover with the other and pierce top pastry to release steam. Bake for 35-40 minutes or until pastry is golden on top and base is cooked.
NB: I’m not a fan of sickly sweet desserts so this pie suits my pallet to a tee - it’s a bit tart. If you prefer sweeter pies, experiment with more maple syrup or augment with another sweetener.
My dad’s rhubarb patch has been keeping us busy. It’s e-n-o-r-m-o-u-s, and has given us enough fruit for 2 large pies, 2 dozen muffins, and frozen bags of rhubarb to last into the winter.
Rhubarb muffins are now old hat, so this morning before work my mom, dad and I made our second rhubarb pie of the season. I haven’t honed my pastry making skills yet, so I’m hoping my mom’s guidance will yield flaky results when I’m on my own.
Here’s the custard-y recipe my dad found in Janette Haase’s new book From Seed to Table. It’s the perfect balance of tart and sweet - absolutely delicious:
Fresh Rhubarb Pie
Servings: 6-8
2 9” pie custs
6-8 cups chopped fresh rhubarb
1 ½ cups sugar
½ cup flour
1 tsp grated orange rind
2 eggs
Preheat oven to 425 F (220 C). In a large bowl, mix together rhubarb, flour, sugar, orange rind and eggs. Place in one pie shell and cover with the other. Seal the edges and brush with butter if you wish. Bake for 10 minutes and then reduce heat to 350 F (175 C) and bake for another 20-25 minutes or until pastry is golden. The moisture content of rhubarb depends upon the amount of rain it’s had, sometimes the pie can be quite runny but the juices are delicious so I never worry about it.
Anyone know how to substitute honey or maple syrup for sugar? I want to try but have no idea what ratio to follow.
I drool just thinking about rhubarb. I’m a huge fan of tart fruit in baking, jams, compotes, or just blobbed onto yogurt or ice cream. Raspberries, gooseberries: anything that makes me pucker. But rhubarb is my favourite, and it’s the first local fruit to make an appearance in the locavore calendar year.
Jenny and Philip have a beautiful bushy patch in their “field” at Backyard Farm. Roddy and I got a sizable haul after transplanting Jenny’s baby lettuces, and it went straight into rhubarb muffins (wheat-free and dairy-free). I adapted this recipe from Canadian Living and they’re the perfect tea time treat.
Rhubarb Muffins
Servings: 18 muffins
2 ½ cups rice flour
1 tsp baking soda
½ tsp salt
1 cup packed golden sugar
½ cup walnut oil
1 egg from next door
1 cup soy milk (with dash of vinegar)
1 tsp almond extract
2 cups chopped rhubarb
Topping:
½ cup packed brown sugar
1 tbsp butter, melted
½ tsp cinnamon
Prep:
In large bowl, combine flour, baking soda and salt.
In separate bowl, blend sugar and oil; whisk in egg, soy milk and almond extract. Stir into dry ingredients along with rhubarb just until flour is incorporated. Spoon into greased or paper-lined muffin tins, filling ¾ full.
Topping:
Combine sugar and cinnamon and sprinkle over batter. (My batter was quite wet because I swapped all purpose flour for rice flour, so I added my topping after the muffins had baked for 10 minutes. I also didn’t add butter to my topping because I’m preserving what we have – but I’ll include it next time)
Bake in 350 degree F (180 C) for 20-25 minutes or until toothpick inserted into centre comes out clean (mine needed 25 mins). Let cool in tins for 10 minutes before removing to cool completely.
Please pass on tips for making these muffins even more local (how much honey/maple syrup would you substitute for sugar, have you found a local flour producer, and obviously local milk is better than soy - perhaps my gut can handle raw milk?)
