My Similarities with a Fox

My first meal on a weekend will never be a salad. Monday through Friday, sure, I’ll put together something healthy. Something with kale. Something with yogurt and berries. But all I want Saturday revolves around the difficult task of bringing eggs to the farmers market.

This Saturday Truck Patch farm only brought about 20 cartons of eggs; they usually have triple. I grabbed a dozen right away. Weeks earlier, when Brian the farmer didn’t show up with many eggs, he told me the reason was it was too hot. The chickens wouldn’t lay. And I was like, dude, I totally get it. I wouldn’t want to do much of anything in this heat, much less squirt out a fucking egg. I figured the same thing happened this week. But no. Another natural occurrence took place – a predator ate the eggs. Brian found broken shells.

I can’t blame that fox or coyote for lapping up all those runny yolks.

Luckily though, they saved some for me.

Yolky Sun with Zucchini Rays

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Nothing Like a Little Revenge Cooking

Ed. Note: Our friend Julia, the pending med student and far mar worker, tells us what to do with that mysterious rhubarb. Julia previous spun Meyer lemons into syrup.

Last Saturday when I was working at the Mt. Pleasant Farmers Market, I spent all day singing the praises of rhubarb. I then realized that all I ever do with it is make crisps, so I decided to branch out and started searching for other things. Plus, my co-worker Nick thinks it’s a dumb vegetable, and very over-hyped, so I was trying to prove him wrong. Nothing like a little revenge cooking.

I love rhubarb because it adds something unexpected to sweet deserts. It takes on the sweetness, but also is fresh and bright and slightly sour. It just tastes like spring to me: new and tangy. I have to say, I think this roasted rhubarb recipe could be the gateway drug for the gorgeous magenta stick. And it’s going to be hard for me to go back to my normal crisps after this. It was so, so good.

Roasted Rhubarb with Vanilla and Orange

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I’ve Made Peace with Summer Produce

DSC_0093 (500 x 332)

“You still have tomatoes?” I whispered to Julia as I scanned what was left at the Mt. Pleasant Farmers’ Market.

She knew I wasn’t referring to what produce was available a mere 30 minutes before closing, but rather that tomatoes still graced the market the first Saturday in November. “They’re from the hothouse, I think,” she whispers back, eyes squinting out of secrecy.

“They’ve all been picked at this point,” Julia guesses, as she only works the stand, not farms the land. (Not that selling vegetables—and making change without a calculator!—is easy on a weekend morning.)

I didn’t try one of the last quarts of tiny yellow tomatoes. I’ve made peace with summer produce. I’ve said my goodbyes. I bought the last of my tomatoes two weeks ago, roasting them in a low and slow oven, and letting them linger in my fridge for just a few more weeks.

Using them sparingly at first—a few in an egg scramble, a few right to the mouth, a few on toast—I now must act fast before mold wins them over.

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Slow and Low Isn’t Always Preferred


For real, I’m not just trying to pimp out 100 Ways to Use a Tomato. I also am a tomato lover and need ideas on what to do with all of the tomatoes laying claim to my kitchen. Because I am a virtual worker I also have time to cook during the day, or at least be watchful of items while they are cooking.

This means I can finally soak and cook beans and not rely on cans. I can cook down tomatoes for a thick sauce. And while we’re on tomatoes, I can roast tomatoes in a low, slow oven. (And please give me suggestions for other dishes I can cook all day.)

I spied my inspiration in the third row, second column of the 100 tomatoes post: a parade of shriveled, red splotches.

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A Pain in the Ass, A Pleasure in the Stomach

Fava Bean Spread

I’ve heard about these suckers for a very long time. Raves. Raves. Raves. And as diligent as I am in eating what’s in season, I sometimes miss very short-seasoned produce. But this time around, in what one vendor labeled as the last available weekend, I scored a quart of fava beans.

Lord these beans take a lot of work. I didn’t follow a recipe, just the quick advice Mt. Pleasant Farmers’ Market manager Rebbie called out to me before 80P and I schlept back to our apartment.

She commanded that the process required 2 beers and a friend. One beer for releasing the beans from the pod and the next for releasing the bean from its skin. Because of my bachelorette party induced hangover, I skipped the beers but still persuaded 80 to be my friend in the process.

Fava Bean Spread 1 (500 x 332)

Sesame Enhanced Fava Bean Puree

First I took the fava beans out of the pod. After the de-podding, I boiled the beans for a minute and a half, shocked them, and then removed the skins. A not difficult, but slightly annoying process, especially as waves of hangover fell upon me. In case you’re wondering why I’m going through this multi-step process on what should have been a lazy weekend afternoon, it is because I wanted to bring a snack for the World Cup watching party.

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Needed a Little Heat

Katie's Bach Party 1 (500 x 332)

Oh it is on. It takes a while for vegetables to arrive at market here in DC. It’s a slow start with asparagus, strawberries and garlic scapes. But it’s coming now: I spied four different varieties of plums alone.

This week, however, was different. I came to the market with a specific mission. My friend Katie, who’s blogged here before, is getting married. And with nuptials comes a bachelorette party.  The night started with an hors d’oeuvre potluck and then bar hopping in Baltimore.

As a food writer I feel extra pressure to bring something amazing to a special gathering like this. I then freak out because there’s just too many options. What to make! Eek!

I decided to let the newly produce-busting market be my guide. Slices of peppered cucumber and radish encircled chevre. But that wasn’t the star. Neither was my other dish. Some girl shows up with seaweed to roll sushi. FML! (Not to mention the penis cake…)

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The True Purpose of Academic Achievement


I am officially dating a master.

80P graduated this weekend and because he will now have tons of time (um, besides the whole job search thing) he will be back to blogging. Okay, probably not. Maybe just picture taking. Anyway.

Momentous occasions, whatever the occasion, is really about the food. Fuck that MPP. Fuck that honors GPA. That’s not all that important when we get to use this event as an excuse to eat some really good food. 80’s parents were in town and the night before the ceremony they treated the master and his lowly BA-holding girlfriend to a lovely dinner at Restaurant Eve. The food was great but my favorite part were the sea beans. I’d never heard of them before and they were described as so salty they were like potato chips. SOLD! And salty and crisp they were, just like the ocean water that they grow near. They were green bean shaped, not black bean shaped. They were thin and dark green and so much fun to find on the fork, nicely contrasting with the soft flesh of fish.

After graduation we skipped the mob scene of the school’s brunch reception and went to Wagshal’s deli for sandwiches (and pickles!). But I only ate half my lox and bagel sandwich because we had 80’s classmate’s graduation bbq. See, everyone knows that graduations are not for the cap and gown but for good eats.

MCB, the host, provided kabobs and a few guests brought sides. I decided on couscous early on, as it’s become my party go-to. The problem, well not problem, but adjust-maker, was that I didn’t have all that much couscous  in the cabinet, which I didn’t check until 45 minutes prior to the party. But I did have Israeli couscous on hand so I went with it.

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