These little lantern-like flowers are harbingers of blueberries!

It all started when I won two blueberry bushes in a raffle at the farmers market last year.

“Where shall we plant them?” I asked Bill.

The best place, we assessed, was in a small sunny patch of the front yard alongside a smattering of perennial herbs and flowers already growing.

But, once in place, two bushes didn’t seem to be enough.

“We need two more,” Bill said.

We bought two more.

Four blueberry bushes full of little ripening globes in the front yard opened up a world of previously unconsidered possibilities. Why shouldn’t other summer favorites be included?

Seeing no wrong answer, we expanded our tiny urban garden patch for Tomatoes, planting two Bradleys, one Cherokee Purple and one Mortgage Lifter. Then, I found a packet of heirloom cherry tomato seeds left over from a lawn and garden fair promotion and got several started in containers for the garden. Volunteer vines from last Halloween’s pumpkin assortment sprouted up and joined in.

We called it the Upper Forty—as in 40 inches.

“Gonna check on the crops in the Upper 40,” I’d say.

It was such great joy to walk out the front door and pick blueberries for the morning’s yogurt and cereal. Or peek under pumpkin blossoms in search of developing fruit. Or patiently monitor the redness of tomatoes.

“Not now,” Bill would caution. “Maybe tomorrow.”

We live on a busy boulevard in midtown Nashville, but with ample sidewalks and a bike lane, it’s an active neighborhood of walkers, runners, and cyclists. Our little patch of fruits and veggies seemed to be giving a great deal of joy—if not, providing at least a modest curiosity— to many of them.

“Is that a real pumpkin?”

“I didn’t know you could grow blueberries here.”

“Nice lookin’ tomatoes.”

“Can I grow that in a pot?”

So, this year we decided to grow the Upper Forty—increase our urban farmette. We widened our patch. So far, I have planted assorted lettuces, chard, pak-choi, kale.

Baby Romaine

Red Russian Kale

Then, we made our radical move. A testament to our hippie heritage, we seized the little plot of earth–the easement–across the sidewalk from our house. If you happen to stroll our way, you may see the row of onions and the many mounds emerging with potato plants.

Potato plant from sprouted eyes

All of this is to say that growing these bits of food is good for many reasons. In no way do my endeavors compare with my farmer and master gardener friends; I can’t wait for the bounty that they’ll have to offer.

But it feels right to have our Upper Forty, not only for the delicious fruits and vegetables we’ll bring to the table, but for the beauty and pleasure they provide to our little piece of the hood. If I can grow things, so can you!

With spring and summer, there are many good things to come. Look forward to recipes for all sorts of salads and dressings, blueberry buckles and tea breads, swiss chard gratinee, squash strata, tomato-basil pie….

Use this as a place to share:
Do any of you have a garden or farmette? Vertical containers? Pots of herbs?
Growing pains? Growing tips?

Blooming Chives

Ah, I mustn’t forget—-the plum tree in my backyard. It’s dripping with fruit. If I can beat out the squirrels, we’ll have plum sauce, plum tart, plum vinegar, and more…Stay tuned!

Beginnings of Plums

Use what you’ve got.

Sometimes you don’t have what is called for, but chances are you’ve got something else that would serve just as well.

Call it an adage or philosophy–this way of thinking brings together creativity, practicality, and economy, and can be most useful in problem solving. I had to remind myself of this when it came time to prepare for a cooking demonstration for this year’s Earth Day Celebration.

I had been asked to feature things that I’ve been growing in my tiny urban farmette. Figuring I’d have an abundance of mesclun, scallions, garlic, fresh herbs, I had envisioned presenting a variety of vinaigrettes, tossing them on the myriad greens, passing out samples of sumptuous salads.

But, Mother Nature and my seeds did not cooperate with this vision. Our burst of warmth in late February-early March gave way to cooler temperatures and wetter weather. My seedlings, which eagerly sprouted up in my window box greenhouse, remained inert, post-transplant.

They stood in the ground, I believe, and shivered.

It was plain in my two-days-before-the-event assessment that I would have plenty of chives and Italian parsley, but only four scallions of size and a handful of petite greens—slim pickings for a food demo and tasting.

Time to play my “what’s-in-the-pantry game”; surely it held some wonderful things to pair with my local garden offerings.
And, indeed there were: I found quite the assortment of white beans and peas, all in almost-empty bags and boxes.
Time to put these dribs and drabs to good use.

I chose black-eyed peas, yellow-eyed peas, navy beans, great northern beans, baby limas and flageolets—visually, a pleasing look—variants of white—and all similarly sized to throw into the pot together. In my fridge, I had celery, carrots, and an orange.
An idea began to form:
A light, nutritious white bean medley salad, with crunchy bits of celery, carrot, and scallion, dressed in a refreshing vinaigrette of orange, Italian parsley, and chives.

It was well-enjoyed by the Earth Day cooking demo attendees, but because our intention was to not use paper at the festival, I had no recipe cards to share.
So, here for all of you who kindly attended and all of you, dear readers, is the appropriately renamed for its use-what-you’ve-got sensibility:
my Earth Day Salad.

White Bean Medley
1 cup assorted White Beans and Peas
2 T. Olive Oil
1 medium Onion, small dice
3 cloves Garlic, minced
¼ teaspoon Salt
pinch Red Pepper flakes
1 Bay Leaf

Soak the beans and peas for at least four hours. Rinse.
Heat a 2 quart saucepan. Add olive oil. Sauté onions until translucent, about 2 minutes. Add garlic, salt, and red pepper flakes. Continue sautéing for another 2 minutes. Add beans/peas, stirring so that all are coated. Add 4 cups water. Stir. Cover and cook on medium heart for at least one hour, stirring occasionally. Add more liquid if necessary.
Remove from liquid and cool. Remove bay leaf. Taste for seasoning.

Orange-Herb Vinaigrette

6 Tablespoons Olive Oil
1 heaping Tablespoon Orange Zest
¼ teaspoon Salt (or more, to taste)
a few grindings of fresh cracked Black Pepper
pinch Red Pepper flakes
1 Tabelspoon Orange Juice
2 Tablespoons White Balsamic Vinegar
1 heaping Tablespoon Italian Parsley, chopped
4-6 sprigs Garlic Chives, or Chives, snipped into small pieces

Start with the olive oil in the bottom of the salad bowl. Add the zest and allow to infuse for a few minutes. Then add salt, black and red peppers, orange juice, vinegar, parsley, and chives. Stir together well, and then proceed to the next step:
Creating the Salad
3 large Scallions, including green tops, chopped
3 ribs and leaves Celery, finely chopped
3 Carrots, finely chopped
cooked Bean-Pea Medley
4-6 pieces Red leaf lettuce, coarse chiffonade

Add carrots, celery, and scallions to the salad bowl. Stir so that all the ingredients are well coated.
Next, add the bean-pea medley. Fold these into the mixture, again so that everything is well coated with the vinaigrette. Fold gently so you don’t break up the beans. Finally, fold in the shreds of lettuce.
Taste for seasonings–adjust for salt, top with a little more zest and black pepper.
Serves 8

Cooks Notes:
Serve the salad room temperature. The longer it sits in the vinaigrette, the more pronounced the fresh flavors become.
The salad is vegan, but lends itself readily to other ingredients.
Try adding these:
Soft Goat Cheese
Crumbled Feta
Toasted Walnuts or Pinenuts

Even though I was delirious with overseas flight fatigue, my first meal at our friends’ home in Bologna, Italy remains vivid, one of those high points in epicurean experiences: Heather served up bowls of handrolled tortellini filled with ricotta, puddled in an herbed brown butter sauce. The pasta was paper-thin, tender; the ricotta creamy rich. And the butter sauce! Brown butter can elevate cardboard to a lofty state; in this case, it took an already sublime dish into the gastro-stratosphere.

Soon, my brain, beleaguered from a navigation of the hopeless maze of terminals in Charles DeGaulle airport followed by a frenzied search for a missing boarding pass, hit alpha-wave calm as I immersed myself in the comfort-coated bowl. I was in Bologna, home of Europe’s oldest university, stronghold of the Italian Communist Party and center of a culinary tradition that earned it the name La Citta Grassa .

Oh, Learned-Red-Fat City, I slumped into a chair, bowl in hand, I have arrived.

I felt certain that in the time she had lived here, Heather had immersed herself in Bolognese ways and had crafted these impressive stuffed pastas.

“Well, I had considered it, of course,” she said. “But then I realized, why bother? We have the ladies.”

“The ladies?” This sounded intriguing. “Who are these ladies?”

“The pasta ladies,” she said. “We’ll go visit them.”

A couple of days later, I accompanied Heather on a shopping trip. After perusing the open produce stands—where I learned that One Mustn’t Touch; the vendor selects the veggies for you—Heather introduced me to the ladies of Le Sfogline.

Run by Renata Venturi and her two daughters Daniela and Monica, Le Sfogline is regarded as the best pasta shop in Bologna, perhaps all of Emilia-Romagna province. It’s small. In the front room, you may find Signora Venturi presiding over the service counter: a glass display case filled with the creations of the day. Behind her, an open door reveals the pristine kitchen where the women, with long, tapered rolling pins, turn out pasta sheets that are both massive and impossibly thin.

We studied the case contents: tagliatelle, papparadelle, varieties of stuffed tortellini, lasagne. Everything beckoned; it was so hard to choose.
Tutto Bene, Si!
We decided on a pan of lasagna Bolognese:layered with meat in a milky brown sauce, and two dozen pieces of what fast became my favorite: plump ravioli di zucca—pumpkin.

Lately I’ve been thinking about the ladies and their fine work as I’ve noticed changes in my Volunteer pumpkin. The jarrahdale blue that so valiantly grew in my front yard has been occupying a place of prominence on my dining room sideboard since I harvested it last fall. Over the winter, its blueness has unexpectedly given way to light peach. I decided that meant it was time to cook it. It deserved to be prepared in a Bolognese manner.

Now, in no way do I have the deftness of hand-rolling that the ladies of Le Sfogline employ, but I do have a bonafide hand-cranked made-in-Italia pasta machine. I chose to make lunette–little moons–circles of pasta, filled with roasted pumpkin, folded over and gently crimped.

My little moons were not so perfectly plump and lovely as the handiwork of the ladies, but I believe they would have approved of my results.
Mine had a kind of haphazard look to their craft, but were nonetheless delicious. My Volunteer Pumpkin had roasted up sweetly, and required little more than salt, pepper,nutmeg, and parmesan to enhance. To the brown butter sauce, I added coarsely chopped toasted almonds: a crunchy counterpoint to the smooth dish. And, borrowing a Mario Batali trick, I grated an amaretti cookie over the top right before serving, for a pleasant little candied shock.

Lunette di Zucca (Little Pumpkin-filled Moons with sage brown butter)

Pasta:
3 cups Flour
4 Eggs
2 T. Olive Oil
2 t. Salt
Water—1-2 Tablespoons, if needed

In a food processor fitted with a pastry cutter, pulse the flour with the eggs, olive oil, and salt. Add water if it seems too dry. As you pulse, the texture will change from coarse cornmeal to a smooth, collected mass.

Remove,form into a ball,and cover tightly with plastic wrap. Place in the refrigerator for at least one hour. The pasta can be made in advance and allowed to rest overnight.

Filling:
4 c. Roasted Pumpkin
½ t Salt
¼ t. Black pepper
1/8 t. Nutmeg
½ cup grated Parmesan

Puree the pumpkin with the seasonings. Add the parmesan last. Note: Pumpkins vary in water content. Some “pie pumpkins” are dense; my heirloom pumpkin was a little watery. If the mixture seems a loose, place in a strainer lined with cheesecloth (same method used when making mascarpone) over a bowl. That extra liquid will separate quickly.

Assembly:
Slightly flatten the doughball and cut into 4 wedges. If you are using a pasta machine, start with setting 1 and roll the dough through. Repeat. Then move to setting 2 and roll. Repeat the process until you reach desired thinness—at least at setting 6.
Cut out round shapes–about 3″ diameter. (I used a drinking glass as my template.)
Place a small amount—about a teaspoon—in the center of each circle. Fold over, press ends together and slightly crimp. Makes 3 dozen.

Bring a pot of lightly salted water to a rolling boil. Drop in the stuffed lunette, a few at a time. Gently boil for about 5 minutes—the lunette will float to the surface when done. Remove, drain, and dress with butter sauce. Top with toasted almond pieces and grate a little amaretti cookie over the dish.

Sage Brown Butter Sauce:
1 ½ sticks Unsalted Butter
4 heaping Tablespoons chopped Fresh Sage leaves
Salt to taste–about ¼ teaspoon

On medium heat, melt the butter and add the sage leaves and salt. Increase the heat. The butter will begin to bubble; the milky solids will begin to brown; the sage leaves will crispen.
Stir well. Once the mixture has a toasty brown color, remove from heat—it will continue to cook from the residual heat and you don’t want this to burn!

After Saucing the Pasta:
Top with:
½ cup Toasted Almonds, coarsely chopped
Amaretti cookie, to grate over the little moons (optional)

The seeds from this Volunteer have been saved. We’ll plant these pumpkins purposely this year!

Back in my catering days, one of the constant challenges was to create an appealing dinner menu that would meet the following criteria: it could be prepped well in advance, transported over a piece of space-time, and finished off with aplomb at the client’s appointed hour. Sure, there were opportunities for something to go awry at any stage, but it was during that middle section—time traveling with food—- where the chances of The Undesired increased.

Yes, during what we caterers call The Schlep, strange, unforeseen things could happen.

Key elements could go missing; dishes could shift in transit; something could ooze/spill/flip/be dropped/lose temperature/overcook. The catervan driver could run into strangling traffic, miss the main turn, vanish in some Bermuda-Triangle-like anomaly. With even the most carefully laid plans, there remained that element of surprise. As my partner Bill says, “I’m livin’ in the mystery.”

The plate I’m offering here is one of those beauties you’d be proud to serve your guests at a dinner party. Most of the work, such as it is, can be done well before everyone’s arrival, leaving a couple of finishing touches to serving time.
And, lucky you, there’s no livin’ in the mystery of the schlep in the process.

Consider this menu:
Citrus Smoked Salmon with orange-balsamic glaze, served on a bed of
sauteed fresh spinach and caramelized onions, with
Crispy Parmesan-Polenta Triangles

Thick salmon steaks are perfumed with fruity olive oil and blood orange zest. Juice from the orange and lemon is reduced with balsamic vinegar to an acid-sweet syrup, ready to drizzle over right before serving. Both steps can be done hours, if not the day, before.

The same is true for the polenta.

I love a pot of creamy corn meal, but for a fancier dinner, I prefer the look and texture of the crispened triangles. Once poured into a pan and cooled, (again-best done ahead) the polenta cuts easily into interesting shapes that take only minutes to flash in a skillet.

Fresh spinach sautés in seconds, making a nice bed upon which to place the fish.

Citrus Smoked Salmon
4 Salmon Steaks
Extra Virgin Olive Oil
1 Orange (used for zest on salmon and juice in glaze)
Sea Salt
Cracked Black Pepper
Fresh Chives

Rinse off steaks and pat dry. Lightly coat steaks with olive oil.
Zest the orange and rub it onto both sides of the salmon.
Sprinkle with sea salt and black pepper, top with a few strips of chive.

On a smoker-grill that is at medium (300 degree) heat: place steaks and lower grill lid. Smoke for 15-20 minutes.

Orange-Balsamic Glaze
¼ cup Balsamic Vinegar
½ cup Orange Juice
2 teaspoons Lemon Juice
¼ teaspoon Salt

Put all four ingredients into a non-reactive saucepan and stir well. Put on low heat. Stirring occasionally, allow the mixture to reduce by at least half.
If you make this ahead, refrigerate, and gently rewarm at serving time.

Parmesan-Polenta Triangles
4 cups Water
1 teaspoon Salt
1 Tablespoon Butter
1 cup Polenta (can use yellow corn meal)
½ cup grated Parmesan

Olive Oil

Add salt and butter to water and bring to a boil. Pour in the polenta and reduce heat, stirring constantly. The mixture will begin to thicken. After cooking for almost 20 minutes, add the grated parmesan, continuing to stir until well-incorporated.
Pour into a 9”x13” baking pan and allow to cool. Cover and refrigerate.
Before serving time:
Heat a skillet.
Cut polenta into triangles and brush with olive oil.
Cook triangles for 3 minutes on each side; they will brown and crispen.
(these will stay warm in the oven set on 200 degrees)

Firm, chilled triangles slip out of the pan with ease.

The salmon is quite good, even without the orange-balsamic reduction spooned over it.

You can use whatever variety of orange you fancy. Save a section for garnishing. When they are available, I will get blood oranges. I’m at once intrigued and freaked out by them.