fruit

Shopper's Guide to Pesticides iPhone App

maki — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 19:42:42 +0200

3 years ago, I mentioned a handy list of produce ranked by how much pesticide is used to grow them. The higher (=more pesticides) the ranking, the better it would be to stick to organically grown.

I recently got a new iPhone (yes…I’m the very opposite of an Early Adopter of tech gadgets) and discovered that the same list is available as a free iPhone app called DirtyProduce. Here’s a screenshot of the opening page:

It doesn’t do much beyond list the Dirty Dozen (the most heavily pesticide-treated fruits and vegetables), the Clean 15 (the last pesticide-used) and the full list of 47 produce items, but it’s handy to have around with you. Who knew for instance that peaches were the most pesticide-laden fruit or vegetable? I tend not to peel my peaches, and I ate, oh I don’t know, a few tons of them over the summer. I may start peeling them next season, or look for non-treated ones.

Anyway, if you do have an iPhone, take a look. And if you don’t, there is still the PDF list to print out and carry in your wallet.

EWG Shopper’s Guide to Pesticides

Homemade Umeshu (plum wine) and Ume Hachimitsu Sour (ume honey-vinegar drink)

maki — Mon, 22 Jun 2009 12:53:59 +0200

Since so many people liked my mom’s umeboshi recipe, here are two more recipes using ume plums from her. She doesn’t have photos for these, so I’ve taken a picture of her notes, with a little illustration she did of how to layer the ume and sugar for the umeshu (plum wine).

How To Make Umeshu (plum wine)

Although it’s called plum ‘wine’, this beverage is actually a cordial or a liqueur. It’s much easier to make than umeboshi, since the alcohol prevents any mold from forming.

Ingredients and supplies

To make umeshu, you need three ingredients: unripe green ume plums, rock sugar (called kouri zatou (氷砂糖) or ‘ice sugar’ in Japan) and shochu or shouchuu or another flavorless distilled alcoholic beverage, such as vodka. Rock sugar is preferred because it melts slowly, but you could also use granulated sugar. (You can buy rock sugar at General Asian/Chinese grocery stores - maki)

For equipment, you need a large, wide mouth glass jar with an airtight lid. I use a very large canning jar with a snap-on lid with a rubber gasket. You could also use a screwtop lid. The jar should be large enough so that when you put the ume plums, sugar and shochu in, it should only come to about half of the height.

You’ll also need a sharp tool such as a toothpick or skewer to take out the stem ends, and a scale to weigh the ingredients.

Amounts

Weigh your ume plums, then weigh out about half of that weight in rock sugar. If you want it sweeter, increase to 60%. If you want to less sweet, use less sugar, though I would not go under 40% since unripe ume plums are very sour.

I like to keep it simple, and use 500 grams of sugar for every kilo of ume plums.

I never weigh the shochu, but there should be enough so that it completely covers the ume plums in the jar. For a kilo of ume plums I use about 2 liters of shochu.

Incidentally, I usually make about 5 kilo (11 lbs) worth of ume plums in one session, and I make it every year! So, that’s 5 kg of ume plums, 2.5 kg of rock sugar, and about 10 liters of shochu.

Method

Wash your jar or jars and lid well, and sterilize them in boiling water, in a hot dishwasher, in a warm oven, or with some of the alcohol you are using (shochu or vodka), just as you would when making jam or pickles.

Wash and dry the unripe green ume plums, and take off the stem end bits in the same way as in the umeboshi recipe with a toothpick or other pointy tool. You don’t need to soak them in water to get rid of the bitterness as you do with umeboshi, though you can if you want a very smooth tasting umeshu.

Weigh your ume plums after washing and de-stemming them, to get the amount of sugar you need.

Put a layer of ume plums in the jar, then a layer of rock sugar. Repeat until all the sugar and plums are used up, and press down with a clean spatula to compact it all in the jar. Pour the shochu or vodka into the jar until it just covers the topmost layer of plums. The jar should only be about half full, since a lot of liquid will come out of the plums. If you fill the jar too much to start with, the liquid may overflow and burst the lid off!

Put the lid on securely, and leave the jar in a cool, dark place. You may want to shake the jar occasionally to help things along. After about 3 months, the plums will have exuded a lot of juice and will come floating up to the surface - remove the ume plums (you can store them separately if you like; since they are completely saturated with sugar and alcohol, they won’t go bad). After about 5 months, the umeshu is ready to drink, but I like to leave it for at least a year to let it mature. Umeshu really at its best after 2 years, and just mellows and improves with age.

Mellow umeshu has a beautiful light green color, like light olive oil.

Some people like to eat the ume plums that have been used to make the umeshu; it’s believed to have medicinal qualities. People say that an ume a day keeps your insides healthy. You can also float a single ume plum in your umeshu drink as decoration.

How to drink umeshu

You can drink umeshu straight, or on the rocks (over ice cubes) like any liqueur. I like to mix it with water, at about a 1:1 ratio, with lots of ice cubes.

Fruit ‘wine’ with other fruit

If you can’t get ume plums, you can use the same method with other fruit. Strawberry wine, or ichigoshu, is very popular in Japan: for 1 kilo of good, ripe strawberries, use maybe 100 grams of sugar, depending on how sweet the fruit is. After 2 to 3 months, the strawberries will become completely white! Take them out (I wouldn’t eat these), and let the strawberry ‘wine’ mature. You can try apricots, quince, regular Western plums, and so on.

How To Make Honey Sour with ume plums

While umeshu is delicious, it is very alcoholic. So for non-drinkers and my grandchildren, I make a non-alcoholic version with honey and vinegar, called Honey Sour (蜂蜜サワー).

Honey Sour is easier to make than umeshu. Just take equal amounts in weight of unripe green ume plums, honey and vinegar. The vinegar can be rice vinegar, white wine vinegar, or apple cider vinegar - any light flavored and colored vinegar will work. Combine it all in a sterilized large jar. After a while (3 to 4 weeks), take out the plums that will have come floating up to the surface; these can be eaten too, like the umeshu plums. You can rebottle the honey sour in sterilized bottles at this point if you prefer, which can be kept at room temperature.

Use Honey Sour in the same way as you would use umeshu - on the rocks, mixed with water, and so on. It’s also nice as a syrup on shaved ice (kakigouri). I like to bring a small bottle of it on hikes, where we mix it with clear, cold water from mountain streams. So refreshing!

You could try other fruit too. Quince (called karin in Japanese) are really good as a Honey Sour base.

Footnote from Maki: My mother’s drawings

I love the little drawing my mom did for her umeshu instructions. I think her drawings are great, and keep telling her so, but she doesnt seem convinced! Here’s one she did of breakfast a couple of years back, with a wedge of melon and a bowl of muesli. I’m trying to convince her to let me show more of her drawings!

Homemade Umeboshi (Japanese salty pickled plums)

maki — Thu, 18 Jun 2009 09:14:35 +0200

My mother came for a visit this week, bringing along a pot of her homemade umeboshi. I asked her to tell me how she makes them; not only did she write it down for me, she even had pictures she’d taken of her attempts in the past couple of years! So, here is my mom’s version of how to make homemade umeboshi. I’ve freely translated her Japanese explanation to English.

My mother [my grandmother - maki] used to make umeboshi every year. When I lived in New York, I was too busy working to do much cooking, let alone umeboshi! But now that I am retired, I’m trying to remember how to do things the old way. Homemade umeboshi is so much more delicious than store bought, so they are worth the effort.

Ingredients and equipment

You only need 4 ingredients to make umeboshi: Ume plums, coarse sea salt, red shiso leaves and shochu or shouchuu, a type of distilled alcohol beverage that is available all over Japan and is quite inexpensive. If you can’t get shochu, you can use vodka or another kind of flavorless distilled beverage.

You also need some bowls, flat baskets, a large, wide-mouth, a deep container made of ceramic or glass or non-reactive plastic (never metal), a weight or a sturdy plastic bag, and large jars to store your umeboshi.

Preparing the ume plums

In Japan, umeboshi are always made in mid to late June, because that’s when the ume plums are ready. Ume plums are picked when they are hard and very sour. The kind I use are from the Kishuu region, which is in Wakayama prefecture. Kishuu ume are widely regarded to make the best umeboshi.

I understand that ume plums are now available in the United States. When you buy them, make sure you choose ones that are firm, plump and unblemished. Even small blemishes or cuts on the plums could lead to mold, which is the biggest reason umeboshi can fail.

Once you have the ume plums, carefully remove any remaining stems. The best way to do this is with a cocktail stick. Try not to pierce the ume plum when you’re doing this - again, this can lead to mold.

Once the stems are removed, wash the plums in several changes of water, and then fill a large bowl with cold water and leave the ume plums to soak overnight. This gets rid of some of the bitterness in the plums.

After soaking overnight, drain and dry the plums. Made ready a bowl of shochu or vodka, and dunk the ume plums completely in the alcohol. This is to kill any kind of mold spores on the surface.

Preparing the red shiso leaves

Red shiso or perilla leaves give color and flavor to the umeboshi. Use about 10% of the ume plus in weight of shiso leaves - so for 1 kilo of ume plums, use 100g of shiso leaves. Wash them, take off any tough stemps, sprinkle with a little sat and massage the leaves until they are limp.

Salt to ume ratio

Use a non-iodized, coarse salt. I use a coarse sea salt. You can use kosher salt instead.

The amount of salt, or the ratio of salt to ume plums, determines how salty your umeboshi will end up. My mother used to make very salty umeboshi with about 20% salt! I prefer mine to be quite low in salt, so I use only 8%. The lower the salt content, the more prone to mold the ume become, so beginners may want to start with 12% or 10% salt. You can also de-salt the umeboshi a little before you eat them, by soaking them in a weak salt water solution (though this does dilute the flavor too).

Here’s the amount of salt vs. ume plums at different percentages:

8%: For every 1 kilo of ume plums, use 80 grams of salt
10%: For every 1 kilo of ume plums, use 100 grams of salt
12%: For every 1 kilo of ume plums, use 120 grams of salt

Make the pickling container ready

Use a large, wide-mouth jar or other fairly deep container. Wash it inside and out thorougly, then disinfect the inside. Some people do this by putting the container in boiling water, but the most common way is to spray it with some shochu or vodka.

Fill the pickling container

Start with a layer of coarse salt. Cover with a layer of ume plums, then a bit of the shiso. Repeat the salt-ume-shiso layers, until the ume are used up. Now, cover the whole thing with a plastic bag or sheet, then put on a weight that is at least half as heavy as the ume plums - in other words, 1 kilo of ume plums requires a 500g weight. While there are dedicated ceramic weights available, you can use anything you can find such as a bagful of water (as long as it doesn’t leak), a full water bottle, clean rocks in a plastic bag, and so on.

Once the container is full and weighted down, cover the top with a clean, porous cloth like a cheesecloth or openweave kitchen towel; secure this with a rubber band or string. Leave in a cool, dark area of your house, until the ume plums become soft and completely immersed in a reddish liquid. This liquid is extracted from the ume plums by the salt. This part of the process will take about a week or more.

Once the liquid is about 2 cm (an inch) above the top of the ume plums, reduce the weight by about half, and leave the ume plums in the jar in the liquid until it’s time to dry them in the sun.

Drying the plums

The hoshi/boshi part of umeboshi means ‘to dry’, and the following drying step is very important!

In Japan, we time the umeboshi process so that the ume plums reach the end of the salting stage around Doyou no ushi no hi （土用の丑の日), which falls on a different day every year, but is always around mid July. This date is always marked on Japanese calendars, along with other holidays and special days, just like Christian holy days are marked on European calendars. The significance of this day for umeboshi making is that it occurs after the rainy season is over, when the weather becomes hot and relatively dry (this period is called doyou no hi （土用の日), the doyou period). If you are not in Japan, just look at the weather forecast and aim for a period of a few days when it’s supposed to be nice and hot and sunny.

Once the ume plums are immersed in the reddish liquid, take the plums and the shiso leaves out of the jar. Reserve the liquid - this is umesu, or ume vinegar, and is delicious! (See instant radish pickle recipe that uses ume vinegar - maki)

Put the ume plums in a single layer on flat baskets, and the shiso leaves in spread-put clumps separately. Here you see that I have lined up the baskets on newspapers out on my apartment balcony. The newspapers protect the top of the table underneath!

Leave the plums like this in a fairly sunny place with good ventilation, for about 3 days. If it rains, take them inside. Turn them over at least once a day.

At the end of the drying process, they look like this. The drying tenderizes the plums, giving them a better texture.

The umeboshi are now done. You can store them as-is, in a jar, layering plums with the shiso leaves. Or you can pour back in some of the ume vinegar, to give them a softer texture. This is what I did with this batch.

Here’s another batch (from last year). I stored some wet in disinfected glass jars, and some dry in a ceramic jar.

Umeboshi improves with age for a few years. I usually start eating them 3 years after making them, though you can eat them the same year. At around 5 years I think they are at their best. After about 10 years or so they start to disintegrate and become mushy if kept wet, and rather shriveled like an old lady if kept dry - but they are still edible!

An alternate type of umeboshi: White umeboshi

You can make umeboshi without the red shiso leaves. This results in light brown umeboshi and an almost clear ume vinegar.

I hope you have enjoyed this how-to of a very traditional Japanese preserved food!

Real breakfast: Summer breakfast smoothie

maki — Mon, 14 Jul 2008 16:32:46 +0200

While this may be the breakfast I wish I had the time to make, this is the breakfast I have most days right now, when so many delicious fruits are in season.

I know that smoothies get a bad rap in some quarters for ‘not being really fruit’ or being too high in calories, but I say B.S. to that. As long as you know exactly what is in the smoothie, and you do not down smoothies as beverages to quench your thirst but take them as liquid meals, I think they are terrific ways of getting a lot of fruit inside of you or your loved ones.

For a breakfast smoothie, this is the formula we follow, for 2 portions:

About 2 cups of cut up fruit, at least 2 kinds, whatever is ripe and sweet. The smoothie in the photo has cantaloupe melon, peach, apricot and asian pear.
1 cup soy milk
1 cup ice cubes

All of this is blitzed in the food processor (you could use a blender too) until smooth. Water is added if it’s too thick. Then we drink the fiber and all. No added sweeteners are needed if the fruit is ripe enough.

The combination of fruit and soy milk is very filling, and holds me until lunchtime very well.

It’s really a summer-only luxury to be able to enjoy such naturally sweet, fruity smoothies, so I’m indulging in them as much as possible.

(The frosted glasses are vintage diner glasses that I got a couple of years ago at the Hell’s Kitchen Flea Market in New York. They are printed with the words “Real Fruit Flavor”, which is certainly true of these smoothies!)

Red, White and Blue Dessert

maki — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 15:48:36 +0200

(From the archives. If you’re planning a big Fourth of July party, consider this very colorful, cool dessert, which I made for a party 2 years ago. There are a lot of steps involved, but you can cut corners with storebought meringue and sugar cookies if you prefer.)

I love outdoor parties (except for the bugs!), especially when it means a barbeque. July the 4th barbeque parties are the best, and I miss them sorely when I am not in the U.S. This year though, we are going to have a July the 4th party on Sunday (since the 4th is not a holiday here), complete with grilled hamburgers, wurst, and chicken. Someone else is going to do all that grilling, so I am making the dessert.

A good dessert for a barbeque party is ideally something that you can make in advance - or at least, make most of it in advance and then just assemble it before serving. Ice cream or other frozen desserts fit the bill, but I wanted to do something a bit different. Since this is a July the 4th party, even if it will be a bit early, I needed to have something that looked all-American. And what’s more American than the flag? I think that the two nations most obsessed with their national flags are the Swiss and the Americans, so I’m sure my Swiss friends will appreciate the symbolism of red, white and blue.

Right now, local strawberries are in full season and really delicious. So that’s the red. The only edible blue I can think of short of using food coloring is blueberry, so though they are a bit early they had to do. And the white? Whipped cream and meringue. I even added a few star shaped cookies, made from a typically Swiss cookie recipe.

This red, white and blue bowl of fruity creamy goodness is a variation of a very English dessert called Eton mess. Eton mess is crushed strawberries and meringue folded together with whipped cream, and originated at the famous public school of that name where Prince William and (as far as I know) all royal family boys went to. I didn’t crush the strawberries - I sliced the big ones and left the little ones whole. I also gave them my favorite treatment: a short marinade in balsamic vinegar and a bit of sugar, which really seems to bring out the soul of the strawberry. Instead of dark balsamic though, I used white balsamic vinegar, which is mild, sweet and colorless. This left the redness of the strawberries without darkening it as the regular dark brown balsamic does. (If you can’t find white balsamic vinegar, rice vinegar is a good substitute.) Finally, instead of all whipped cream I used half whipped cream and half creme fraiche, just for a bit of added tartness and depth.

The most time consuming part of this is making the meringues. I’ve given a recipe for them which is easy to do if you have an electric beater. If you can find readymade meringues though, by all means use those.

The cookies are a type that is very popular in Switzerland called Mailander. I guess that means they originally come from Milan (Mailand is German for Milan), but they seem to be a part of Swiss culture now. They’re usually just served around Christmas, cut into little shapes. Here I have cut out tiny little stars and sprinkled them with sugar to give them sparkle. The cookies are so delicate that they crumble into the creamy, fruity, delicious mess.

The meringues and the Mailander cookies can be made way in advance (up to a week) of when you intend to make this. Here’s a rough schedule:

Day before or earlier: Make the meringues and the cookies, using the same eggs.
Night before: Prepare the strawberries and let them macerate in the balsamic vinegar.
1 hour before serving: Wash the blueberries and whip the heavy cream. Put them in the refrigerator.
Just before serving: Assemble.

The one I made and took a picture of is the rehearsal for the actual party - and of course, the model for this article! It’s not too sweet, and is really nice to eat. Don’t ask about the calorie content though…

Red, White and Blue Mess for July 4th

1 small carton of ripe strawberries
2 Tbs. granulated sugar
2 tsp. white balsamic vinegar or rice vinegar
1 small carton of blueberries
1 pint heavy whipping cream
1 carton creme fraiche
2 Tbs. powdered (icing) sugar
About 3 cups of roughly crushed meringues
Cookies for garnish

Wash and hull the strawberries. Slice the big ones and leave the small ones whole. Put in a bowl with the vinegar and sugar and mix. Cover and refrigerate several hours or overnight.

Whip the heavy cream until soft peaks form, then whip in the sugar. Fold in the creme fraiche.

Drain the strawberries, reserving the liquid.

In a large bowl, put in half the blueberries and strawberries, the cream mixture and the crushed meringue, and rapidly fold together with a large spoon. Put into a glass serving bowl and put the rest of the fruit on top. Drizzle with the reserved strawberry liquid. Decorate the top with the cookies.

Serve immediately.

Meringue Kisses

3 egg whites
3/4 cup granulated (or castor, or superfine) sugar
A pinch of cream of tartar (optional: I find I don’t really need this)

Equipment needed:

electric egg beater/mixer. Whipping meringues by hand may be a rite of passage in a fine French restaurant but not for a warm summer day in a home kitchen.
a plastic bag
scissors
baking sheet
parchment paper
mixing bowl, spatula, etc.

Preheat the oven to 120°C/250°F.

Line two baking sheets with silicon baking pads or parchment paper.

With an electric mixer/beater, whip the egg whites until stiff peaks form. Add the sugar a spoonful at a time, whipping all the time, until the whole thing is shiny and very stiff.

Put the meringue into a plastic ziplock bag, and squeeze the mix towards one corner. Cut off the corner with scissors to make a small hole. Pipe out the mixture into little mounds onto the baking sheets. (You can also make the little mounds with two spoons, but I find the bag method way faster.)

Bake for 40 minutes, then turn off the oven and leave there for an additional 5-10 minutes. Take out and let cool.

This will make more meringues than you need for the mess, but meringue kisses are great just as cookies.

Lemony Mailander Cookies

225g / 8 oz. unsalted butter
3 egg yolks
1/2 cup sugar
2 Tbs. lemon juice
2 Tbs. grated lemon zest
2 1/2 cups plain white regular flour (all-purpose)
Extra granulated sugar (or if you can find it, decorating sugar is nice; it’s more sparkly than granulated.)

Equipment needed:

baking sheets
rolling pin
silicon baking pads or parchment paper
small star shape cookie cutter
mixing bowl, spatula, etc.

Note: I do this in a food processor - it mixes up in no time. You can mix by hand too.

Cream together the butter and sugar. Add the egg yolks and mix. Add the lemon juice and lemon zest.

Add the flour gradually and mix until a soft dough forms. (If using a food processor, pulse to mix.)

Put the dough into a plastic bag and chill until firm.

In the meantime, preheat the oven to 150°C/300°F. Line two baking sheets with silicon baking pads or parchment paper.

Roll out the dough to about 1/4cm / 1/8th inch thick (or fairly thin..it’s not an exact science!) on a lightly floured surface. Working as fast as you can, cut out your star shapes and put on the baking sheets.

Bake for 10 minutes or until very lightly browned. Take them out and sprinkle with the sugar. Let cool.

This will make a lot more cookies than you need for the garnish - just pass out the rest, they are sure to disappear. Or, keep them for yourself to enjoy later.

Nature has the best recipe

maki — Sat, 30 Jun 2007 19:08:57 +0200

At the moment, cherries are everywhere here in Switzerland. Roadside signs proclaim “Kirschen” or “Chriesli” (the Swiss-German dialect for cherries), luring you to farms and fruit groves and farm stores. They’re on sale at the Migros supermarket too, for the busy person to pick up in a hurry.

When I get started on cherries, I can’t seem to stop until I’ve had my fill, and I do mean fill, of that sweet, dark juice with a hint of sourness. Fresh cherries are so good that I just can’t bring myself to do anything more than pop them in my mouth one after another, methodically spitting out the pits. I know there are numerous cherry recipes out there, but as delicious as things like cherry pie and cherry clafouti are, there’s really nothing to beat the naked, unadorned cherry.

The same goes for strawberries. I do like to treat them lightly with balsamic vinegar, or eat them the way kids do in Japan as ichigo miruku (strawberries and milk). But when you’re lucky enough to get top quality strawberries in their real season, juicy and sweet to the core, doing anything more than flicking off any dirt specks from the surface and eating them as is, leaving only the hulls, seems to be a crime.

I could go on and on. Ripe, soft apricots, fragrant peaches and nectarines, juicy plums, tender raspberries, really-ripe tomatoes…as the summer progresses, we can indulge in wave upon wave of fresh, sweet fruit and vegetables, ending in the fall with a crescendo of color and flavor (grapes, late plums, pears, apples) before things go quiet and grey again - cabbage and broccoli and other pedestrian vegetables, enlivened with flashes of imported citrus fruits and canned or frozen things from the warm months. Until the cycle starts all over again in early spring with rhubarb, asparagus, bitter spring greens, tiny new potatoes.

In past years, I’ve had a tendency to go a bit crazy sometimes in my zeal to keep and preserve some of the goodness of summer. This year, I’ve made a new batch of apricot preserves and frozen a bunch of strawberries. But really, is there anything better than a pure, unadorned, peach that is so ripe that the sweet juices run down your chin? Is there a need to scramble for yet another recipe, to fiddle around with perfection?

Strange words perhaps from a food blogging person. Food bloggers as a whole seem to be always looking for recipes, recipes, and more recipes. But food is not really about recipes. Food is about taste, enjoyment, pleasure.

We’re very lucky to be living in a time when really fresh and ripe, in-season produce is making a big comeback. We don’t have to just stand for fruit that are so hard you could hammer a nail with them. The producers are listening and responding to our demands for ripe, flavorful, fresh fruits and vegetables.

The older I get (and I’m not that old yet), the more I crave simpler, purer flavors. So this summer, I’m going to enjoy my ripe, juicy fruit with as little fiddling as possible. The memories will spice my winter meals almost as well as the frozen, pickled or otherwise conserved versions will.

Fresh is really best- a 'doh' moment

maki — Mon, 28 May 2007 17:36:49 +0200

Everyone knows in theory that the fresher the vegetables, the better they are. But I think that many of us fall into the habit of buying a bit too many vegetables, storing them in the fridge, and using them as long as they haven’t rotted away or become science experiments in some form. You know, things like carrots and celery, apples and other rather indestructible produce.

But once you see how produce does deteriorate, you start to wonder. Case in point I had some rhubarb stalks left over, and stored in the fridge for about a week after I bought them. (Normally I cook rhubarb right away, but it was cheap at the market so we’d bought more than we needed.) So, yesterday I took them out - they looked crisp and perfectly fine - and turned them into rhubarb crumble pie.

It was tasteless and terrible! It was like eating a rather stringy, bland mush. I’ve never had such a bad rhubarb, and I love rhubarb. We had a couple of mouthfuls and threw the rest away - it was that bad.

So now I’m looking all all those long-lifers in the fridge with a skeptical eye. Sure, carrots and celery may not change that much in taste…but they are surely leeching away nutrients and flavor day by day. And what about those stored apples that come out in the stores mysteriously in the middle of February? Okay, perhaps this is too obvious to even write about. But that awful, bland rhubarb really was an eyeopener…or is that a tastebud-opener…for me.

I guess that I’ve been judging ‘freshness’ with my eyes primarily. I’ve also gotten into the typical habit of shopping once or twice a week. That’s the American way, after all. But in Japan for instance most people - well, most housewives - shop daily, or at least several times a day, and only buy what they need. Here in Switzerland in particular and Europe in general people used to shop like that but the advent of supermarkets and hypermarkets is changing that pattern.

It’s really hard to shop every day, especially when you have to work. I’m going to at least try to keep the vegetable bins a bit less full and shop in smaller amounts though. No more huge economy-size bags of carrots anyway.

Happy Memorial Day to everyone in the USA, and Happy Whitsun / Pfingsten to many people in Europe!

Rhubarb berry trifle

maki — Thu, 19 Apr 2007 18:20:52 +0200

On rhubarb, stewed fruit and England

I first saw this curious plant called rhubarb during the time we lived for 5 years in Berkshire, England. I was 5 when we moved there. The rhubarb grew like a small jungle in a corner of the vegetable patch of the house we were renting, alongside some equally puzzling gooseberry bushes. Neither existed at all in Japan at the time, and my mother was at a loss as to what to do with them, until our next door neighbor lady told her how to stew them. The neighbor lady believed in stewing most fruit - she told my mother to stew or jam all of the raspberries too, since eating them raw may lead to upset small tummies. Thankfully my mother didn’t take her advice for all of the raspberries, and I still have memories of stickily enjoying bowls and bowls of red, ripe raspberries with clouds of whipped cream. One of the first things I did when I got my own garden was to plant several raspberry canes.

Stewed and cooked fruit figures quite prominently in my memories of English food at the time. This was in the ’70s. Whenever I was invited to tea at a friend’s house, there was usually always some sort of cooked fruit dish, be it a compote of peaches in the summer or apple and blackberry pie later on in the year. I think we only ate fresh, raw fruit at home, except for bananas and strawberries. I didn’t even know that gooseberries could be anything other than sour, green and only edible stewed with sugar, until I came to Switzerland and saw them left to ripen on a bush, turning a bright reddish-purple.

That penchant for cooking fruit does mean that there are many terrific fruity desserts (aka puddings) in British cookbooks. One of them is trifle. I’m in the midst of my annual rhubarb orgy period, and it’s one ‘fruit’ (though it’s botanically a vegetable) that needs to be cooked. Hence, the rhubarb trifle.

The slightly modernized trifle

A trifle is small pieces of sponge cake soaked in a sweet, fruity liquid, and topped with custard or cream. Some versions of trifle are quite alcoholic, but this one has no alcohol in it since I imagine my 8 year old self tucking into it. The components are simple: the fruit-liquidy mix, the cake, and the creamy topping. The key part that makes this trifle different is the rhubarb soaking liquid part, which is quite sour and not too sweet. I’ve added a few frozen berries (raspberries from last summer’s crop in fact) to make the red color more intense - if you have fresh strawberries by all means use those instead.

Trifle is traditionally topped with custard, cream or both. Here I have combined the two so to speak and topped it with vanilla ice cream instead - this is the slightly modernized part. It’s homemade but you can use a good store bought ice cream if you don’t want to bother, or don’t have an ice cream maker.

I think that the key to a good trifle is to not overload it with sponge cake, which makes it go rather stodgy. Add just a few pieces for the interesting texture. Note that I’ve used pieces of store bought roll cake here (called Swiss roll in England, but not really Swiss as far as I know) which adds some extra flavor. You can assemble it all in a big bowl, or in individual glasses as I’ve done here.

This is my pre-planned entry for Sam’s Fish and Quips event celebrating British food. See also my other two British-theme posts this week, Tasting Guinness Marmite and The Edwardians and their food.

Rhubarb berry trifle with vanilla ice cream

To keep the color as clean and red as possible, use only the red parts of rhubarb stalks. This may mean buying more rhubarb than you need. Use the green parts for another dish.

I’ve used cup measurements here throughout since it’s easier for this particular recipe, and everything is proportional. Note 1 cup = 250ml.

The ice cream part:

This makes more ice cream than you’ll probably need but…anything wrong with that? I don’t think so. You can skip this step and get some good quality store bought.

Vanilla Ice Cream

2 cups whole milk
1 vanilla pod or 1 tsp. real vanilla extract
4 egg yolks from pasteurized eggs or eggs from very happy organic hens
7/8th cups (a bit less than 1 cup) sugar
1 cup heavy cream

If using a vanilla pod, cut it open and scrape out the beans put the pod and the beans into the milk. Let the milk simmer for about 10-15 minutes on very low heat.

In a bowl, beat together the yolks and the sugar. Slowly add the heated milk (fish out the pod), beating vigorously. Add the vanilla extract if you are using that. Add the cream and whisk together. Let cool until ice cold. Put into an ice cream maker and churn following the manufacturer’s instructions. This, incidentally, is my standard vanilla ice cream recipe.

The rhubarb-berry part:

8 cups of cut up red rhubarb
1 cup fresh or frozen red berries (raspberries or strawberries or even red currants)
1 1/4 cups sugar
Juice of 1 lemon

Mix everything together in a non-reactive pan (stainless steel, enamel or non-stick. Not aluminum or iron in other words). Heat over medium-low heat - after a while it will become quite liquid. Simmer for about 20 minutes until the rhubarb pieces are soft.

Let cool to room temperature, and taste - if it seems too sour to you (remembering that you’ll be adding sweet cake pieces to it) add a little sugar and mix well to melt.

The cake part:

A store bought (Swiss) roll cake with a jam and cream filling

To assemble it all:

For every cup of the rhubarb mixture, add about 1/3 cup’s worth of cut up cake. Don’t overload the liquid with the cake, and reserve some for decoration. Allow the combined mixture to mellow and cool in the fridge for several hours.

To serve, scoop the mixture into individual parfait glasses or into one big glass bowl, a trifle bowl if you have one. The mixture should come up to about 2/3rds of the height of the glass. Top with scoops of softened vanilla ice cream, and decorate with slices of the roll cake.

Rhubarb, ginger and berry smoothie to chase away a cold

maki — Fri, 13 Apr 2007 12:45:07 +0200

I have a raging cold at the moment. Stuffed head, fever, ringing ears, streaming eyes, the lot. What makes it worse is that the weather is glorious outside, and here I am stuck inside, groaning a lot and feeling sorry for myself.

In times like this the only things I can even think about eating and drinking are fruity yogurt, juices, and tea. This smoothie, which is an adaptation from a recipe in the adorable Innocent Smoothie Recipe Book, combines two of those elements and is tart yet spicy in a nice chest-clearing sort of way. It also tastes wonderful. Although, I’m pretty sure it would taste even better if my mouth didn’t feel like cotton wool.

It’s a good thing I took this picture against the clear blue spring skies before the cold took over at full steam.

The glass in the photo is a vintage ’60s frosted-glass one I got at a flea market in New York. I have a set of 6. I love them and would kill anyone who broke them.

Rhubarb, berry and ginger smoothie

For the stewed rhubarb in apple juice:

1 carton of apple juice (1 litre or 1 quart) - organic, blabla preferred, or juice your own apples
4-5 stalks rhubarb, cut up

Stew the rhubarb in the apple juice until soft, about 10-15 minutes. This can be stored in the fridge for making the smoothies later.

For the smoothie:

1 cup stewed rhubarb and juice
1 cup fresh or frozen red berries - strawberries or raspberries or a mix
8 Tbs. plain yogurt
1 Tbs. ginger syrup (if you don’t have ginger syrup, use honey)
1 tsp. ginger juice (grate some fresh ginger and squeeze out the juice)

Combine all in a blender. Serve in tall cool glasses.

Makes 2 servings (which you may consume by yourself if needed as medication)

Notes

It’s also great without the ginger element. (The original recipe doesn’t have ginger.)

The Innocent Drinks Company is a U.K. maker of smoothies and other ‘healthy’ type drinks, with very hip and cute marketing. (They’ve recently branched out to Germany too.) In a way the book is another marketing ploy. It has cute bite-sized bits about saving the environment and so on, alongside the nice and sometimes quite imaginative smoothie ideas.

I do try to not over-indulge in smoothies since one glass of a smoothie can be like 3-400 calories, but nothing much else goes down as, eh, smoothly, when your tonsils are swollen.

Fake strawberries

maki — Mon, 12 Mar 2007 20:26:04 +0100

It smells like spring, and it feels like spring. It was so warm today that we left the windows open all day. The weather is so nice, and the sun shines so brightly, it’s really hard to concentrate on work. The garden is covered with snowdrops and wild pansies. And, there were strawberries! on sale! at the supermarket. They looked so red and tempting, I bought two boxes. By the time they got home though, some were already bruised beyond repair. The rest? Hard and sour, or tasting moldy in an odd way.

I guess I have to wait a couple more months for the real thing.

On a brighter note though, this felt strawberry cake from etsy seller kenshop looks nearly good enough to eat.

I wonder if I am alone in finding comfort in imitation food when the real thing doesn’t satisfy…