Sometimes life is like a bowl of sour cherries… but I’m not complaining!

Yes you heard me right, sour (tart) cherries are now ripe and ready for picking in the Leona Valley (just North of Los Angeles, CA near Palmdale).  SOUR cherries?? you’re probably thinking, why would I want those?  Because, let me tell you my friend, they are the way to true cherry pie bliss.

And cherry jam bliss…

and real Maraschino (pronounced “maraskino”) cherry bliss.

No, you don’t need any red #40 to make these, but you do need real Maraschino Liqueur.

I have to admit that two years ago I had never tried a sour cherry.  To be fair to myself though, most Californians haven’t.  It’s more of an East coast/European/Persian thing.  Why that is, I’m not really sure.  Maybe because sweet cherries grow so well here.

This all started when I discovered the Manhattan cocktail a few years back.  I loved this cocktail, but hated the garish garnish.  For some reason those noxious things people call “maraschino” cherries just freak me out.  I knew there must be something more.  What was the origin or inspiration for these cherries?.  A little googling around and I was on to something.

The first Maraschino cherries were cooked up somewhere on the Dalmatian coast near Croatia and Italy.  They were made from small, black, sour cherries that grow wild on the hillsides around those parts.  Their name was the Marasca cherry.  A sweet liqueur known as Maraschino had long since been distilled from the fruit, stones (pits), and leaves of these wild cherry trees, but until the 1800’s no one had ever tried to pickle the Marascas in their own liqueur.

Some years later American tourists discovered Maraschino cherries and brought jars home to share with their friends.  They were a big hit and news spread quickly.  Before long, they were all the rage in America’s finest saloons acting as garnish for delicious pre-prohibition cocktails like the Manhattan.  But, sad as it is, the salad days of the real Maraschino cherry in America were numbered.  Things changed when a guy from Oregon, with too many cherries (and chemicals) on his hands, developed a way to preserve them in a less than appetizing way.

How on Earth did these offensively colored new substitutes catch on?  I can only guess.  I’m sure the Temperance Movement didn’t help.  God forbid children should be tempted to sneak one of these liquor soaked cherries!

The new and improved “Maraschino Americano” was also incredibly cheap compared to the imported varieties, and you know how we Americans are when it comes to the cost of food.  The cheaper the better.

Yum…

Thus began my personal quest to re-create the original Maraschino cherry as closely as I could.  A google search for “sour cherries Los Angeles” yielded few results, but I finally found what I was looking for.  It was a place called Cherry Tyme Sour Cherries in the Leona Valley about an hour and a half North of Los Angeles.  Bingo, I thought!

But wait, it was August and all the sour cherries were long gone according to the pleasant lady on the phone.  I had just missed the season!  As you can imagine I was devastated, but the lady offered me one bit of consolation.  I could leave her my e-mail address and the next year they would let me know when the season opens.

Sure enough, the next July I received an e-mail stating it was “Cherry Tyme!”  I recruited my dad to go up there with me and help pick.  We came away with 13 pounds of fresh, sour cherries of three different varieties: Montmorency, Balaton, and Morello.  The Montmorency were large, pale, very sour, and extremely delicate.  I used them for my pies, and they left me with memories I won’t soon forget.  The Balatons were small, firm, dark skinned, and not quite as sour as the Montmorency.  I thought these seemed most like the wild Marasca cherries of the old country, and used them for my Maraschino cherries with great results.  It’s been a year since I put them up and they’re still firm and delicious!  The Morello cherries were medium sized, dark fleshed, sour, and very flavorful.  For some reason they were the most attractive to me.  They embody a perfect balance between the other two varieties, and I used them to make my preserves.

Pitting was a bit of a challenge without a proper cherry pitting tool, but we got pretty good with bamboo skewers after the first hundred or so.

The cherry massacre!

The fun starts tomorrow morning June 27th at Cherry Tyme in Leona Valley.  Their hours are from 8:30 am to 4:00 pm; open daily until all the cherries are gone.  Bring your own boxes!

Cherry Tyme Sour Cherries:

39913 107^th St West

Leona Valley, Ca 93551

(661) 270-0649

cherrytyme@email.com

Hope to see you there!  Recipes coming soon.

The Sidecar cocktail is said to have been invented by an American Army captain living in Paris during the first World War.  He was driven each night in a motorcycle sidecar, so it goes, to the small bistro where he helped conceive and christen this drink.  On those wintery Paris nights, having been chilled to the bone by his ride in the sidecar, the captain found nothing more warming and rejuvenating than the combination of Cognac Brandy, Cointreau, and lemon juice mixed in equal parts.

Perhaps he was nostalgic for a Daiquirí back home in Florida, and with no access to rum or limes, started improvising with what was on hand.  I can only guess at what his true inspiration was, but it led to a cocktail that could be considered one of the most classic and well known around the world.

On a more sinister note, the Sidecar’s popularity has noticed a steady decline over the past few decades.  This is due in large part to the fact that many bartenders are using cheap brandy, triple sec, and commercial sweet and sour mix to prepare this drink, instead of Cognac, Cointreau, and freshly squeezed lemon juice.  Trust me please, it would be false economics to cut corners on this particular drink.

I should mention, before posting the formula, that there are two popular schools of thought when it comes to the proportions of ingredients in this cocktail.  The more classic “French School” adheres to the equal triad described above, whereas the newer “English School” swears by a ratio of 2:1:1.  Having tasted both variations side by side earlier this evening I have to conclude that neither school is in the wrong.  The French Sidecar is light, refreshing, delicate, and well balanced, with prominent, though not overpowering citrus elements.  It felt like Spring in Paris.  The more complex and serious English Sidecar felt like fall or winter.  The Cognac was able to take center stage while Cointreau and lemon played backup.  The harmony was beautiful!  I recommend this method if you’re using a really fine Cognac or Armagnac and want it to to shine through.

Sidecar Cocktail (French School)

Ingredients:

• 1 oz Cognac or Armagnac
• 1 oz Cointreau
• 1 oz Freshly squeezed lemon juice

Sidecar Cocktail (English School)

Ingredients:

• 1 1/2 oz Cognac or Armagnac
• 3/4 oz Cointreau
• 3/4 oz Freshly squeezed lemon juice

Method:

1. Combine ingredients in a shaker half full of ice.
2. Shake or stir vigorously until very cold (no less than 20 seconds).
3. Strain into a chilled cocktail glass.
4. Garnish with a strip of organic or well scrubbed orange or lemon rind (optional).
5. Enjoy!

Notes:

• Any quality brandy can be substituted for the Cognac.
• Any quality orange liqueur can be substituted for the Cointreau (Grand Marnier, Marie Brizard Grand Orange Liqueur, etc.).
• Always use fresh squeezed lemon juice (Meyer lemons can be used with delicious results, but you may want to cut back on the Cointreau to avoid an overly sweet drink).
• Some people like to sugar the rim of the cocktail glass, but I’m not one of them.
• Experiment with different proportions and find the combo you like the most.
• For more good reading on the Sidecar cocktail go here.

A couple of months back we marked a delicious anniversary. We’ve been part of the Eatwell Farms CSA for over a year now, and I still open each produce box with the anticipation of a six-year-old on her birthday, feasting my eyes on each item before tossing it to one side in pursuit of the next. There are strawberries to taste, carrots to trim, tomatoes to smell, garlic bulbs to hang, and fresh, pasture grazed eggs to examine.

Our Eatwell box is part of the reason we don’t go to the Ferry Building on Saturday mornings as frequently as I would like–we usually have plenty of produce at home. But another reason is that, well, it’s easy to go a little wild. I’ll often come home with unlikely and unnecessary things like cape gooseberries (just to taste), pounds of cucumbers (for when the current pickles run out), and bags of mixed hot peppers (only $3!). One Saturday recently, I came home with a pound of wheatberries. No, we didn’t really need them, but I’d been reading about them in our Eatwell newsletter for months.

Our farmer, Nigel, started growing wheat a few seasons back when it became difficult to find organic feed for the chickens, and he has recently been offering a limited amount at the market.  On this particular Saturday, back when it was still summer, one of Nigel’s sons sat atop the bags of red grain, pouring berries from the scoop enticingly. However, when I asked about the small grinder on display, I learned that a pound of grain might take ten or fifteen minutes to grind. “Or you can soak the wheat in milk overnight and make it into pancakes in the morning.” Really? I forked over my one dollar and tucked my pound of wheat into one of our overflowing canvas bags.

According to Nigel, the pancakes are as easy as switching out the flour in your favorite pancake recipe with wheatberries.  At home that evening, I poured one and one half cups wheatberries into the blender, covered them with an equal amount of buttermilk, added the sugar, oil, and vanilla, and left them to soak overnight.  In the morning I switched the blender on and briefly puzzled over the damp paste that was developing.  Of course, I should have exchanged the flour for wheatberries by weight; unfortunately my aha moment came about 12 hours too late. Here was a blender full of half ground grain in a soupy thick mess of flour, and not enough wheatberries left to start over another day.

Luckily, pancake mix is forgiving.  Going by look and feel, I added more liquid, doubled the levening, folded in an extra egg.  And, just as Nigel promised, the pancakes turned out beautifully.  Several batches later, here, in honor of Eatwell Farm, is my favorite new pancake recipe.  The pancakes turn out a wonderful golden brown, and they are surprisingly light.

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups hard red wheat berries
2 cups buttermilk
1 cup low fat milk
4 tbs olive oil
2 tbs brown sugar
3 eggs
1 tsp vanilla
4 tsp baking powder
2 tsp baking soda
pinch salt

Method

The night before you make the pancakes, place the wheat, buttermilk, milk, olive oil, sugar, and vanilla in a blender, cover, and allow to soak overnight. In the morning, blend the mixture until mostly smooth. This part may take a little while. I gave my blender a couple of breaks so as not to burn out its motor. The mixture need not be completely smooth. A few small chunks of wheatberry give the pancakes a nice texture. Pour the batter into a mixing bowl and add the eggs, whisking to combine. Sprinkle the salt, baking soda, and baking powder over the batter and stir to combine well. Cook the pancakes immediately and serve hot!

Makes about twelve 8-inch pancakes

This is a straight-up, kick in the ass, try it if you dare sort of salsa. It’s also quick, simple, and surprisingly complex, thanks to the carrot and two wonderful varieties of chiles.

We almost always keep a homemade salsa around the house, and I’m not usually the one to make it.  But after finding fresh ancho chiles at the farmers market, I was inspired to try my hand at developing a signature salsa to rival Will’s.  I’ve been told that in Mexico most folks don’t put garlic in their salsas.  I have to admit that I never asked anyone while we were living down in Oaxaca, partly because I’d rather not know.  I love garlic in salsa.  I suspect that, like with most Mexican cooking, the differences are regional.  At any rate, this recipe doesn’t claim to be authentic – just delicious!

I got my ancho chiles from the fabulous Tierra Vegetables.  If you can’t find fresh, dry will work fine, but you may want to use a little extra liquid.

Spicy Smokey Chile Salsa

Ingredients
1 cup dried chile de arbol, stems removed
3 fresh ancho chiles
5 cloves garlic
1 cup vegetable stock
1 cup water
1 tbs grated raw carrot
1 tsp salt

Method
In a dry cast iron pan, roast the dried chile de arbol, stirring frequently, until they begin to darken.  Make sure to turn on the hood fan for this – the roasting chiles will be quite pungent!  Remove chiles from the pan and place them in a blender.  Place the fresh ancho chiles in the same pan and roast them until they begin to blister and soften, turning a few times so that they cook evenly.  Remove stems and place them in the blender with the chiles de arbol.  Add the rest of the ingredients and blend until smooth.  Adjust seasoning to taste and transfer to a glass container for storage.  Makes about 2 cups.

Warning: this salsa is hot!  If you want to make it less spicy, you can remove the seeds from some of the chiles, or substitute a milder chile for the chiles de arbol.

Yes, indeed. In Bavaria soft pretzels are often eaten for breakfast – with sausage, beer and, of course, mustard. Here, we’ve been eating them as a midnight snack (mostly because they’re irresistible right out of the oven, and I’ve been starting them way too late in the day); then eating them again for breakfast, minus the beer and sausage. If you roll them shorter and thicker, they’ll rise in the oven until most of the holes have been filled in. Then they can then be sliced in two horizontally and used as the bread for a not-too-sloppy sandwich.

The recipe comes from Local Breads, an amazing book that has been batting its eyelashes at me from the shelf for nearly a year. Sure, I’ve opened it; drooled over the recipes, learned the photographs by heart. But I never found the time to bake from it until a few weeks ago. Since then I’ve made the pretzels three times, and I now double the recipe. (You should too – eight soft pretzels is just not enough unless you’re baking for one and don’t intend to share!)

It’s been lovely, really – Andy and I, plus an assortment of friends and house guests, all chatting about life, love, and literature around the stock pot, watching the pretzels boil, sinking into a tired and contented silence as they bake, then reviving for more on love and philosophy as we tear into the soft warmth of their flesh, our talk shepherding the night toward morning. It’s romantic, I know, but it really does happen, and it could happen to you if you bake these. No promises, but I tell you, late nights and soft pretzels create a kind of unanticipated alchemy (aside from the anticipated but still magical alchemy of baking.)

Bavarian Soft Pretzels

Yields 8 pretzels. Recipe can be doubled.

Ingredients

3 1/4 cups unbleached bread flour
3 tbs unsalted butter
1 1/4 cups tepid water
1 tsp instant yeast
2 1/4 tsp sea salt
1/3 cup baking soda for boiling (note: you needn’t double this amount for a double recipe)
Kosher salt and/or sesame seeds for topping

Method

In a large bowl, mix flour and butter and work butter into the dough with your fingers until evenly distributed. Add water and mix until absorbed, then add the salt to one side of the dough and yeast to the other side and work in both. Turn the dough out onto a floured counter top and kneed for 10 to 12 minutes until firm and smooth. Round dough into a ball and allow to rise, covered, in a oiled bowl at room temperature until light and springy, about 1 hour (it won’t double in size.)

If you are doubling the recipe, divide the dough and cover one half. Proceed as for one batch, then repeat. Place the dough on a lightly floured counter top and from into a rectangle. Use a chef’s knife to cut into 8 equal pieces, form each piece into a ball, and allow to rest covered for about 5 minutes. Roll out each piece with your hands until it is about 18 inches long, tapering the ends slightly. To form the pretzels, grab hold of each end and cross the left end over the right with the looped portion nearest you. Now create a twist by crossing top piece under. Finally, lift the twisted ends and flip them over onto the loop. Press the ends down to seal.

Place the pretzels on a oiled baking sheet, cover with plastic wrap, and refrigerate for 2-24 hours.

When you are ready to make the pretzels, preheat the oven to 350 degrees and bring 4 quarts of water to a boil. Add the baking soda slowly and turn the heat down to a simmer. Place the pretzels into the boiling water one at a time, simmering on each side for 15 to 20 seconds. Remove from the water, draining well and return to the oiled baking sheet. Repeat until all pretzels are boiled.

Sprinkle pretzels with kosher salt and/or sesame seeds and bake until they are a rich brown, about 35 minutes. Enjoy warm or at room temperature with a good mustard. They are best fresh, but can be stored, well sealed for a couple of days.

I can’t tell you much about the Kona Inn, but if you’re craving some delicious banana bread I promise this recipe will bring you satisfaction.

When Stepmother left me and my sister as young adults she knew we would be left craving some of the fine baked goodies we were brought up on so she was kind enough to leave us each with a thoughtfully prepared binder of her favorite recipes. I’ve held on to my binder all of these years since then, and this banana bread recipe is one of my all time favorites. It turns out so moist and flavorful you will be tempted to eat it all before it has a chance to cool.

Kona Inn Banana Bread

Yields: Two Loaves, Prep Time: 20 minutes, Baking Time: 45-60 minutes

Ingredients:

• 2 cups granulated sugar
• 1 cup softened un-salted butter
• 6 ripe bananas, mashed (approximately 3 cups)
• 4 eggs, well-beaten
• 2 1/2 cups cake flower
• 2 teaspoons baking soda
• 1 teaspoon salt

Method:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
2. With an electric beater, cream together sugar and butter until light and fluffy. Add bananas and eggs, beating until well mixed.
3. Sift together dry ingredients three times. Blend with banana mixture, but do not over mix.
4. Pour into (2) lightly greased loaf pans. Bake for 45 minutes to one hour, until firm in the centers and the edges begin to separate from pans.
5. Cool on a rack for 10 minutes before removing from pans.
6. These freeze beautifully.

I love elaborate breakfasts, but a couple of simple poached or soft boiled eggs, a slice or two of buttered toast, and a cup of good coffee is the most satisfying breakfast of all. When it comes to eggs, do as Julia does – bring water to a boil and gently slide in your eggs, cooking uncovered for 6 minutes. Then drain, cover with cold water and let sit for 1 minute before serving in an egg cup with ample salt and pepper.

The coffee is equally simple: individual drip cups, fresh Blue Bottle beans, and a long dash of cream.

So . . . what do all of these dishes have in common?

• crab apple blossom drops with Meyer lemon sour mix
• warmed olives with fava beans and rosemary
• nasturtium pesto
• watercress, nasturtium, and miners’ lettuce salad with pine nuts and fresh flowers
• and braised dandelion and nettle with wild mushrooms

Yep – they are all made from ingredients foraged from the Bay Area! We cheated a bit, I’ll admit, buying a few things that couldn’t be conceivably foraged, and allowing for a few other foods that could have been foraged with a lot of difficulty – i.e. pine nuts and wild mushrooms. We also admitted the fava beans that conveniently came in our most recent Eatwell Farm box.

Another admission: I’m more likely to be found “foraging” for my house keys than clipping nasturtium leaves from the backyard. But oh, what abundance awaits those who go looking through local fields and paths (and even farmers markets) for edibles.

Now, please don’t go stealing the first tomatoes from someone’s community garden plot, and don’t go eating every wild plant you can get your fingers on! Foraging should be about about finding the fascinating and nourishing foods that surround us, overlooked, every day, but it’s important to use careful judgment, both about what to eat and what to pick. Don’t eat anything you can’t positively identify (as edible!), and always leave some behind for other people, for the birds, and to allow the plant to continue thriving.

We assembled all of the dishes for a small dinner party that some friends held, and the cocktail and the nasturtium pesto were the biggest hits. I can already see a completely foraged dinner party in our future!

Crab Apple Blossom Drops

We used the delicious Hanger One from St. George Spirits, and it was well worth it.

Ingredients

• 7 oz vodka
• 1 cup crab apple blossoms (reserve enough flowers to garnish each drink)
• Rind of 1 Meyer lemon (in wide strips, pith removed)
• 3 oz lemon juice
• 3 oz simple syrup
• 3 oz triple sec
• Sugar (for rims)

Method

Place the vodka in a glass jar and add the lemon zest and flowers. Gently bruise the flowers in the vodka, cover, and allow to infuse overnight. The next day pour through a fine strainer or cheesecloth to remove flowers and lemon rind.

To assemble the drinks, coat the rim of each glass with lemon juice and dip in granulated sugar. Place infused vodka, triple sec, simple syrup and lemon juice in a cocktail shaker with ice and shake until chilled. Adjust flavors if you like, adding more simple syrup, lemon juice or vodka as your tastes dictate. Strain drink into glasses and garnish each with an edible flower. Makes six small cocktails, or twice as many shots.

Nasturtium Pesto

Ingredients

• 1 lb nasturtium leaves (or use half nasturtium leaves and half Italian parsley leaves)
• 1/2 cup good quality olive oil
• 1/2 cup pine nuts
• 4 cloves garlic
• 1/2 tsp sea salt

Method

Combine ingredients in a food processor and blend until smooth, adding a little more olive oil if necessary. You could use a mortar and pestle, but with the nasturtium leaves, the pesto tastes better very smooth, so be prepared to grind for quite a while! Adjust seasoning to taste and use as you would traditional basil pesto.

• crab apple blossom drops with meyer’s lemon sour mix
• warmed olives with fava beans and rosemary
• nasturtium pesto
• watercress, nasturtium, and miners’ lettuce salad with pine nuts and fresh flowers
• and braised dandelion and nettle with wild mushrooms

Oh, dear reader, I know the signs. A blog in its last death-throes. The “sorry”s and “back soon”s and promises of reform, the ever decreasing posts. I recognize the symptoms, and I’ll admit it’s not easy to keep alive these little homes we carve out of thin air. But this one’s not going away. Just give its authors time to crawl out from under the mounds of school work and work work, of books and papers and dishes and (yes) a few DVDs; they’ll be back around any day to visit their favorite spots and share their favorite adventures. Until then, I’ll leave you with this recipe for homemade chocolate, Oaxaca style.

I began thinking about chocolate a few weeks ago. Really, I was thinking about pleasure. We were eating at NOPA, which surprises us by how good it is every time we go there and, since we were with a good friend who we rarely see, we were more extravagant than usual. We started with cocktails, then shared a variety of small plates and main dishes, a good bottle of wine, a couple of desserts (their desserts are fabulous), and more drinks. It was a good meal, and it started me thinking about a New York Times Op-Ed from back in February 2006 (Go With Your Gut, by Harriet Brown), which suggests that the more we enjoy what we eat, the more nutrition we derive from it.

It’s a tempting thought, not least because, well, don’t we all wish our every indulgence might yield some hidden benefit? But it makes sense, too. Our bodies, if we can remember how to follow their lead, know what to hunger for.

So here is chocolate:

This recipe comes from Susanna Trilling, by way of her Seasons of My Heart cookbook. I modified it to include less cinnamon and sugar, and prepared it using a food processor, rather than the traditional grinding stone or mill methods. You can find raw cacao at natural foods stores (we got ours at Rainbow Grocery) or online. This chocolate is unrefined and a bit granular. Though it is delicious straight, it is at its best prepared as hot chocolate, the traditional use in Oaxaca. Melt one stick in 12 ounces of hot milk or water, crushing and stirring gently with a spoon. It is also excellent for baking, though the cinnamon gives it a slightly different taste.

Homemade Chocolate, Oaxaca Style

Ingredients
1/2 ounce Mexican cinnamon sticks, broken (or about 2 tablespoons ground)
1 pound first-class fermented cacao beans
10 ounces – 1 1/4 pound finely granulated sugar

Method
In a cast iron pan, toast the cinnamon until fragrant, stirring constantly, then set aside to cool. If using cinnamon sticks, grind in a spice mill or coffee grinder until fine. Add the cacao to the pan and toast, stirring constantly until the beans begin to crack and brown. Allow to cool, then remove and discard shells.

In a food processor, combine cinnamon and cacao beans and mix until finely ground. Add about 8 ounces of sugar and mix again until sugar is fully incorporated. Taste for sweetness and continue adding slowly until desired sweetness is achieved. Do not add more than the chocolate can absorb. The original recipe called for 1 1/4 – 1 1/2 lbs sugar. I used about 10 ounces. Grind the mixture until it is shiny and very smooth.

Turn onto a large wooding cutting board and pat into a square 1/4 inch thick until it is shiny. Slide a chef’s knife under the chocolate to release it from the board, flip it, and pat the other side until shiny as well (you may need to transfer it to a second chopping board to turn it over). Cut into pieces 1 inch by 4 inches and place on wax paper to solidify, up to two hours depending on temperature and humidity. Store chocolate in a sealed plastic bag or glass container.

Eat and savor.