Getting Fresh: Apple Cake

Raleigh is a lovely place, but it's not known for its apple orchards, so they truck them in from other places, like Michigan and Pennsylvania.  You know those Pace commercials where the cowboys have near-coronaries after they discover their salsa is made in New York City?  That's how I feel about the apples I get here.  I'm sure they're swell and all, but I like Maine apples and that's that.  Mom, if you're reading this, send me a peck or two, would you?

Maybe my apple bias is why I wasn't all that thrilled with my latest attempt in the kitchen, Fresh Apple Cake.

I can't blame the recipe source: the King Arthur blog.  Those bakers know what they are doing for sure.  I think it was probably me.  I used too small a pan.  I overbaked.  My apples weren't cut uniformly.  I substituted apple juice concentrate for the boiled cider.  And there just wasn't all the apple goodness I was hoping for.

That being said, I think I should give it another try.  Everyone seemed to have great success with it except for me.  Any suggestions on perking it up a little?

Roasted Potatoes with Garlic. And More Garlic. And Some Other Things.

I've posted about these potatoes before, but let me sing their praises one more time.  Easy.  Healthy.  Garlicky.  They are everything you've every wanted in a potato.  And then some.  These potatoes complete you.

If you're thinking about your Thanksgiving menu already (and I am) these might be a nice replacement for the mashed potatoes.  Thanksgiving purists, no hate mail, please.

(Also, see those chives in the picture?  I grew them!  Oh, and my peppers say hello.)


New Potatoes with Roasted Garlic Vinaigrette
From Cooking Light

• 3 tablespoons olive oil, divided
• 1 1/4 teaspoons kosher salt, divided
• 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, divided
• 7 garlic cloves, unpeeled
• 3 pounds small red potatoes, quartered
• 3 tablespoons minced chives
• 2 tablespoons white wine vinegar
• 2 teaspoons Dijon mustard 

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.  Combine 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil, 1/2 teaspoon salt, 1/4 teaspoon pepper, garlic, and potatoes in a roasting pan or jelly-roll pan; toss well to coat. Bake for 1 hour and 10 minutes or until tender, stirring after 35 minutes.

When cool enough to handle (10 to 15 minutes) squeeze the pulp from the garlic cloves into a large bowl.  (Toss the garlic skins.)  Combine pulp, remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons oil, remaining 3/4 teaspoon salt, remaining 1/4 teaspoon pepper, chives, vinegar and mustard in a large bowl.  Whisk, then add potatoes and toss to coat.

Serves eight.  Approximately 170 calories per serving.


The food: Mustardy, garlicky potatoes
The verdict: Garlic breath is a small price to pay for such deliciousness

Garden Detective Needed

When I started my porch garden, I had a great little map made up so I knew where everything was. Lettuce here, chives here, this one's basil, and so on and so on. Then we went on vacation for a bit and I put all of my pots in shallow bins of water to keep them from dying of thirst. This was a good plan for the plants, but not a good plan for me or my map.

I've got everything figured out except for one pot in which I appear to be lovingly growing a weed, and for my parsley and cilantro. I can't figure out which is which. They aren't ready to cut, so I can't taste them, and neither of them have a smell yet. I think this one is cilantro, but it could be parsley. What do you think?

Remember that episode of Full House when Uncle Jesse can't tell his twins apart? I know how you feel, Uncle J.

Five Little Peppers and How They Grew

For this year's urban garden, in addition to the standards (basil and chives), I've started growing lettuce and bell peppers. The lettuce is swell and all, but what I'm really excited about is the peppers. I like to assess their growth every day. Yesterday I spent about 30 minutes photographing them. I'm about this far away from starting them a baby book.



Which could make it tough to eat them when the time comes. I'm getting so attached.

You're a Peach

The other day, someone from the North Carolina Department of Agriculture knocked on my door and said, "You have to learn to make a peach cobbler or get out. It's a requirement for residency." So I did and I gave him a bowlful. He's letting me stay.

Okay, that's not really what happened. But, as a relative newcomer, I am learning that North Carolinians take their cobblers pretty seriously. Especially peach. Especially when served with barbecue.

Here's the real story about my cobbler. Last weekend, I went to the farmer's market for corn. That was it. But then, once I got there, I got all farmer's markety. Ooh, peppers! Yes, please! And peaches! (Here's a secret -- don't tell that guy from the Department of Agriculture. I don't even like peaches! They're furry! Fruit has no right being furry.) The lady selling them was so wholesome looking, and the little girl on her hip was calling me ma'am and the balsa wood baskets the peaches sat in were so square. So I bought a few, fur and all. Unfortunately, I did not get to take the basket home with me. I just put my purchases in my Liberty Graphics canvas market tote bag (made with organic cotton -- a farmer's market must).

When I returned home and fell out of my farmer's market fog, I was left with a question: what am I going to do with these peaches.

As it often does, Cook's Illustrated provided the answer, this time in the form of a recipe for peach cobbler.

The thing I like best about Cook's Illustrated is that it gives the backstory to recipe creation, so you know what works and what doesn't. For instance, a cookie-like crust for this cobbler was found too sweet, so the author opted for a nice biscuit topping. Heavily sweetened peaches tasted like they came from a can, so the recipe calls for just a quarter-cup of sugar.

In the end, I think my only problem was that the peaches weren't quite ripe. The sweet biscuit topping was tender and just sweet enough, and the peaches cooked without becoming mushy. I'd recommend you give this one a try. With fresh peaches. Farmer's market and organic cotton tote bag are optional.


Peach Cobbler (from Cook's Illustrated)

For the filling:

• 2 1/2 c. ripe, firm peaches, peeled
• 1/4 c. sugar
• 1 t. cornstarch
• 1 T. fresh lemon juice
• Pinch of salt
  

For the biscuit topping:

• 1 c. all-purpose flour
• 3 T. plus 1 t. sugar
• 3/4 t. baking powder
• 1/4 t. baking soda
• 1/4 t. salt
• 5 T. cold butter, cut into small cubes
• 1/3 c. plain yogurt (I used sour cream instead)

Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Half the peeled peaches, scoop the pits and red flesh from the centers and cut each half into four slices. Toss the peaches and 1/4 c. sugar in a large bowl and allow to sit for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

After 30 minutes, drain the peaches in a colander set over a bowl. Reserve 1/4 c. of the juice, whisking it with the cornstarch, lemon juice and salt. Toss mixture with peach slices, then pour into an 8x8 baking dish. Bake for about 10 minutes.

While the peaches are baking, whisk together the flour, 3 T. sugar, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Using a pastry blender, blend in the butter until mixture resembles coarse meal. Add yogurt (or sour cream) and mix until just combined. (Overmixing will lead to tough biscuits.)

Remove peaches from oven. Roughly shape six biscuits and place them over the peaches, leaving at least a half-inch between biscuits (to keep the biscuits from being gluey). Sprinkle biscuits with the remaining sugar. Bake until biscuits are golden brown, about 16 to 18 minutes. Cool slightly; serve warm.


The food: Peach cobbler
The verdict: The N.C. Department of Agriculture says you must make it

How My (Small) Garden Grows

When I was a kid, I wasn't really into gardening. My mom, who had a pretty big vegetable plot, would occasionally enlist my help in weeding. "This," I thought, "is not fun." Not only was I out in the heat, pulling weeds, but I was pulling them from around bean plants -- the very plants that grew the green beans I'd be forced to eat later in the season. These were a special variety of green beans. I think their scientific name was "youcan'tleavethetableuntilyoueatthem greenis beanis." Or something like that.

Anyway, skip ahead a few years. Allie and I are living in Farmington and I decide it's time to give gardening another try. Not outside, since we didn't have any land. I was going to garden inside in pots.

Since my pots weren't big enough for, say, potatoes or onions, I settled on herbs, which I started from seeds. Allie wasn't too fond of the new hobby, since she doesn't really like dirt in the living space, whether it's contained in a pot or not, but she tried to be supportive. She also started calling me the urban gardener, which I thought was pretty good, since it was also a play on words. ("Herb-in" gardener.)



Things were going just fine until Allie, who has a super sensitivity (and huge aversion) to any food smell, opened the window one January to help clear the kitchen of the lingering scent of bacon. (In her defense, the old bacon smell is pretty gross.) Unfortunately, my little herb friends were on the windowsill and did not take to the Maine winter. They were gone before they knew what hit them.

Skip ahead a few more years. Here I am in North Carolina, taking advantage of the Tar Heel State's long growing season. I started out with rosemary, for a soup recipe my pal Rachel sent, but that never really took off, so now I'm working on some leafy basil and chives. I've got all kinds of things to do with chives, but I've got basil coming outta my ears and I'm stumped. I put it in salads, I've tried my own pesto -- I need some new ideas. Or some friends to share with. If you need some basil, let me know.

I'm already thinking about next year's "garden" and I'm not sure if it will include basil or not. Sure it's versatile. Sure it's easy to grow. Sure it looks cool on the porch. But Ben's taken to calling it "baahzil," inspired by some guy on local public television, and I'm not sure I can stand another year of that.