Archive

Setting

  • The Markets: Any of the farmers markets in Chicago that I work throughout the week.
  • The Orchard (aka the Farm): 81 acres in Southwest Michigan, about 2.5 hours from Chicago

 

Cast of characters

  • Peter: My boss and chief fruit slinger.
  • Lupe: Farm foreman. Lives at the orchard and directs the day-to-day agricultural labor.
Picks of the month
  • Progressive International Cherry-It Cherry Pitter
    Progressive International Cherry-It Cherry Pitter
  • Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving
    Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving
  • Jarden #60000 Ball 12PK 1/2PT Mason Jar
    Jarden #60000 Ball 12PK 1/2PT Mason Jar
  • How to Pick a Peach: The Search for Flavor from Farm to Table
    How to Pick a Peach: The Search for Flavor from Farm to Table
2009 Categories
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    Friday
    03Jul

    Strawberry-raspberry etc. preserves

    The other day after I made strawberry-rhubarb preserves, I canned whole strawberries.

    Yesterday, I made strawberry preserves. I also made strawberry-raspberry preserves with balsamic vinegar and black pepper. This is ridiculous, but: It was the first time I've combined fruits in a preserve. And the first time I'd added other flavors and spices.

    As you can see, it's really off the hook around here.

    At any rate, normally I'd wait until late autumn before I tried the strawberry-raspberry preserves with balsamic vinegar and black pepper. But this morning I found that a jar hadn't sealed properly. It's not a big deal. It happens occasionally, though I think I went the whole season without it happening last year.

    I could have reprocessed the jar and sealed it. If it were anything but the S-RPWBVABP, probably I would have just done that.

    But I didn't.

    I buttered my cast-iron frying pan and toasted some bread in it. The toasted bread was drizzled with olive oil. Over this went a few dollops of strawberry-raspberry preserves with balsamic vinegar and black pepper.

    The ruby-red berries sat on a golden sheen of olive oil.

    So far this season, I'm up to eight half-pint jars of preserves and three pint jars of whole berries. After breakfast, I labeled the jars.

    I like the strawberry-raspberry preserves with balsamic vinegar and black pepper.

    But if the name were any longer I'd have to write "continued on next jar."

    * * *

    It would make me the happiest fruit blogger in the world if Fruit Slinger inspired someone to make and can preserves for the first time.

    You do need mason jars with sealable lids . You don't need a lot of special equipment. Yes, there are things you can buy that will make your life easier. But if you have the jars and a few pots — one of them large enough to hold the mason jars with an inch or so of boiling water above it — then you are ready to go.

    You'll need a way to lift the hot jars in and out of the water, too, so a jar-grabber is a good idea. But I managed without one for a while. So it can be done.

    Beyond that, you'll need a recipe. The Ball book is a good place to start. It gives you step-by-step instructions.

    My goal is to make you so sick and tired of hearing me talk about canning that you do it yourself in a desperate attempt to shut me up.

    I mean, it won't work. But I'm just saying.

    Thursday
    02Jul

    Waffled french toast

    While the espresso machine came to temperature, I warmed some maple syrup in a ramekin on the very lowest flame.

    The bread I had sliced the night before, after I was finished prepping strawberries for jam. It was left to sit out on the counter to get slightly stale.

    In a pie tin, I cracked two eggs. I stirred in some milk, a shot of vanilla, a pinch of salt and a dash of nutmeg. Two slices of bread soaked while I made my americano and preheated the waffle iron.

    This is waffled french toast, which I discovered thanks to this blog, which I discovered thanks to this blog.

    Yesterday I had a long discussion about raspberries with a frequent customer. She had plans to make jam, but wasn't in love with the raspberries.

    "They're still too tart," she said.

    "But don't you want tartness in your jam berries?" I shot back. "You're going to be burying them in sugar. Don't you want something that will stand up to that? Something that will be a little bright after all that sugar?"

    She bought six pints of raspberries.

    The waffled french toast was bathed in maple syrup. The tang of the berries stood up to it well.

    Wednesday
    01Jul

    "I'll let you have the final word on that."

    "What are we going to do with all these raspberries?" Peter surveyed the table — so many unsold baskets on yet another gray, rainy market day.

    "Well, I can pay you for some of them," I offered.

    What was this new thing I had with paying for fruit? I had already bought another $10 worth of strawberries off another stand today.

    This was becoming a bad habit.

    Peter looked at me. "I think we're beyond where you need to pay for fruit."

    He caught me a little off guard. "Well, I just meant it's a lot of berries and ..."

    "We are beyond you paying me for fruit," he said, matter-of-factly.

    "I'll let you have the final word on that, Peter."

    I took home three quarts of strawberries, two pints of blueberries, two pints of raspberries and two pints of cherries. I try to be conscientious when I take fruit — if something's left over or abundant, that's one thing. If my taking it deprives the farm of a revenue opportunity, that's another. 

    Today, I deprived the farm of a few small revenue opportunities.

    Oh, maybe yesterday, too: I took home three baskets of fraises des bois.

    But Peter told me to take those home. In fact, it was the first thing he said to me Saturday morning, when we threw open the back of the truck and found the flats of wild strawberries stacked on the edge.

    "Don't you think you should take some of these home and make jam out of them?"

    Yes, Peter. In fact, I do think that.

    Yes, I do.

    Tuesday
    30Jun

    Strawberry-rhubarb preserves

    I already had the rhubarb. I had to buy the berries.

    I showed up at the market Sunday to meet the guy coming in from Michigan with more fruit. And I helped him unload blueberries. And I helped him unload raspberries. And I helped him unload fraises des bois.

    But there were no strawberries.

    It's coming to the end of the season, but we were hoping to have more.

    Specifically, I was hoping to have more. For me. To turn into jam on my day off. I had visions of strawberry-rhubarb preserves. But I needed the strawberries.

    So I walked over to another stand and paid for fruit.

    They were gorgeous berries.

    Now all I needed was a recipe.

    I settled on honey-sweetened strawberry-rhubarb preserves, from Preserving Summer's Bounty.

    [And when I say I settled on it, I'm leaving out a whole uninteresting block of text wherein I describe how I twittered about looking for a recipe, and then got a helpful response from @floriole, but then discovered that the book she recommended — Mes Confitures: The Jams and Jellies of Christine Ferber  — was not available at the library, so I put it on hold for later. And then I wrote a friend about which recipe I should use — because he's at home with a baby and thus has plenty of time to just research my fruit queries — and exchanged emails with him about it. Did I say I was leaving this all out? I lied.]

    I'll warn you: This is going to take all day. Not all day in the slaving-constantly-over-a-hot-stove sort of way, but all day in the start-at-9am-and-finish-by-3pm sort of way — mostly because you have to let the berries and the honey sit together for a while, to draw out the juices.

    Ingredients:

    • 1 1/3 cup honey
    • 4 cups of washed, stemmed and thickly sliced strawberries
    • 4 cups of washed, diced and unpeeled rhubarb
    • 3 Tablespoons of lemon juice

    Directions:

    Drizzle 1/3 cup of the honey over the berries and let stand in a cool place for three to four hours.

    Combine the strawberries, their juice, the rhubarb, the lemon juice and the remaining honey in a medium enamel of stainless steel saucepan. (Using aluminum for this may give a metallic taste to the finished product.)

    Bring slowly to a boil, stirring occasionally.

    [Instant message exchange during the writing of this post: "How long does it take you to write a blog entry?" "Between 5 minutes and forever. This one is tending toward the latter."]

    Cook at a low boil for 15 to 20 minutes, until the syrup has thickened. Stir frequently to prevent sticking.

    Remove from the heat and skim off the foam. (I always set the foam aside, refrigerate it, and stir it into yogurt.)

    To can:

    Pour into hot, scalded half-pint jars, leaving 1/4-inch of headspace. Seal and process for 10 minutes in a boiling-water bath.

    * * *

    With this recipe, I filled four half-pint jars, with a few tablespoons left over.

    With the jars boiling away, I reached into the drawer for a spoon.

    The soft-pink preserves are lightly sweet and tangy.

    Friday
    26Jun

    Crème pâtissière with Cointreau

    Tarts are great. But the light sweetness of the pastry cream and the intense, concentrated flavors of the berries were enough to make me not want to bother with a crust.

    Here's how to make crème pâtissière with Cointreau.

    • 1 cup whole milk
    • 2 Tablespoons cornstarch
    • 4 Tablespoons sugar
    • 1 egg
    • 2 egg yolks
    • 2 Tablespoons butter
    • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
    • 1 Tablespoon Cointreau

    In a mixing bowl, dissolve the cornstarch in 1/4 cup of the milk. Combine the remaining milk with the sugar in a saucepan. Bring to a boil and then remove from the heat.

    Beat the whole egg, then the yolks into the cornstarch mixture. Pour 1/3 of the boiled and still hot milk into the egg mixture, whisking constantly.

    Return the remaining milk to a boil. Pour in the hot egg mixture in a stream, whisking constantly.

    Continue whisking until the cream thickens. Remove from the heat. If some of the egg has curdled, pass the pastry cream through a strainer. Beat in the butter, vanilla and Cointreau. (You can add a bit more than a tablespoon of Cointreau if you'd like; I probably did.)

    Pour the pastry cream into a shallow bowl or container. Press plastic wrap directly against the surface to prevent it from developing a skin. Chill immediately, from one hour to overnight.

    * * *

    I got to the farm Wednesday evening. Lupe and I unloaded the truck.

    "There's a bicycle in the barn if you want it," Lupe said.

    "Oh, yeah. That would be great."

    "You can use my truck if you want, but I thought maybe ..."

    "Yeah, definitely. The bike's a great idea, Lupe. Thank you."

    He filled the tires with air.

    The next day, I was off to the neighbor's house on the bicycle to check on a hot tip about wild strawberries. It didn't pan out.

    This morning, I was on the bike again.

    I rolled out of bed with the sun still lingering on the horizon. I grabbed my camera and hopped on the bike.

    It's not often I see a sunrise at the farm. I either leave before it or try to sleep through it.