Last Chance for May

Last day of May.  A spring that was slow to start but has exploded with a big ka-bang!  Every year I vow to do something with the wild elderflowers that grow all around my house.  I've heard you can make them into fritters, but I chose to make this elderflower cordial.  It is lovely in a glass of club soda or champagne, or you can use it as a syrup on pancakes or to sweeten berries.  It's simple to make.  You pick ten bunches of elderflowers, and combine them with 3 cups of sugar, 3 sliced lemons and 2 litres of boiling water.  Then it sits for two days at room temperature.  After that, strain through a fine mesh strainer and pour into jars.  Store in the fridge, or for longer storage, the freezer. 

Elderflower Cordial

This time of year, things get a little crazy as I race from one early summer activity to the next.  Flying from the kids' school to work to the grocery store to fitness class to the garden, I sometimes catch myself unaware of what I'm doing right now, too often thinking about what's next and how to cope with it.

Grow Spinach, Grow!!!

 I was in the Cafe kitchen, hurriedly prepping lettuce before a busy dinner service last Saturday.  I had too much to do and not enough time to do it.  An old familiar feeling crept over me, a kind of stressed out resentment.  And then, just as it came, it vanished with this thought: I am doing what I've always dreamed of doing.  And I am alive to do it. 

a Wine Tasting at the Cafe inspired this purchase

Our asparagus is bursting through the ground like mad, despite the fact that weedier asparagus beds never existed.  We moved a few huge asparagus crowns to our main garden, where I hope to take better care of them. 

I mulched this Asparagus right after I took this picture, honest!

 The raspberry canes I planted last year have all multiplied...

And the garlic is already over a foot high.

Last week Rowan and I planted twenty different tomato varieties from Glad Gardens and he sowed a row of broad beans from a free packet he picked up at the local school's Edible Garden Grand Opening.  We still have a long way to go before our garden's finished, but our spinach, kale and Swiss chard are up!

Bonus when you purchase Mushroom Compost at Valley Mushroom

 About a week or more ago I made a pot of tea for a friend from mint in my backyard, and gave her some eggs for a new broody hen of hers to sit on.

In exchange she brought me a jar of Vanilla Bean Rhubarb Jam.  It sat for about a minute on my counter before I had to toast some bread and try it out.  Pink with flecks of vanilla seeds, it looked amazing and tasted even better....

It inspired me to make this dessert.  I had wanted to try out a Panna Cotta recipe based on the recipe in Michael Smith's Chef at Home cookbook and knew it would be lovely with a sauce inspired by the jam.  I made this in two stages:  the Panna Cotta, a sweet custard-like dessert set with gelatin was made one day, and I made the Vanilla Bean Rhubarb Sauce the next.



Panna Cotta with Vanilla Bean Rhubarb Sauce

for the Panna Cotta:

4 C. Milk (whole Milk is lovely, but 1% will do)
2 Packages of Gelatin
3/4 C. Sugar
1 Bay Leaf
2 t. Vanilla (I used a vanilla bean, hence the little black flecks)

 Choose 6 ramekins or teacups to mold your panna cottas in and lightly oil them.
Pour 1/2 cup of the milk into a medium bowl and sprinkle the gelatin over to soften it.   Heat the remaining milk with the sugar, bay leaf and vanilla over medium heat until just beginning to steam.  Pour the hot milk mixture over the gelatin-milk mixture and whisk gently to combine.  Pour into your molds and put in the refrigerator to set for at least two hours, or overnight.

for the Vanilla Bean Rhubarb Sauce:

5 C. chopped Rhubarb (the pinkest you can find)
1/2 C. Sugar
pinch of Salt
1 Vanilla Bean

Place the rhubarb, sugar and salt in a medium saucepan.  Cut the vanilla bean in half lengthwise, then scrape all the seeds out with your knife and add them to the pot.  Drop the pod in, too.  Place over medium heat and bring to a simmer (you shouldn't need additional liquid).  After about five minutes, shut off the heat and let the rhubarb cool, then remove the vanilla pod.

To serve,  unmold the panna cotta by dipping the mold into hot water, then run a knife around the edge.  Place a serving plate on top, then flip over.  Add a big spoonful of the rhubarb sauce and maybe some whipped cream.

What I Had for Lunch Today

 I'm home alone today.  That means staying in my pyjamas, not brushing my hair and eating whatever I feel like for lunch.  So I made this.  It's a piece of homemade bread, toasted and topped with sauteed portabellos that I picked this morning.  No, I'm not a fungus farmer, but I bought three bags of compost from Valley Mushroom last week and they often continue to produce mushrooms for some time if you don't disturb them.  There is also asparagus picked from my very own weedy garden, and garlic I grew last year, and a poached egg from my own hens.  I may drive a really old car, but I sure am rich.

Roasted Asparagus and Fiddleheads with Parsnip and Sweet Potato

I had some of my favourite people over for supper last night.  Roasted Chicken is always a crowd-pleaser in my house, so we had that, and mashed potatoes, and some lovely roasted vegetables.  You may feel the same way I do about fiddleheads: I want to love them, but I need to grow up a little first.  Their incredibly short season means that I diligently give them a try, expecting rapturous delight each time.  This go-around, I decided to roast them alongside some of my favourite vegetables.  I had bought some spectacular asparagus harvested that day from Glad Gardens just outside Berwick (mine isn't quite ready yet, and I'm impatient) and I had the last of my Dad's parsnips in the fridge.  I cheated and threw in not-from-here sweet potato because I love it. Then I roasted everything with olive oil and voila: the perfect bridge between winter and spring. And I enjoyed every tightly curled emerging fern.

Roasted Spring Vegetables

1 large Sweet Potato, cut in 1" cubes
1/2 lb. Parsnips, cut in roughly 1" pieces
3 T. Olive Oil
1 t. Salt
1 lb. Asparagus, ends trimmed and cut into 1" lengths
1/2 lb. Fiddleheads, well rinsed and little brown ends trimmed off

Preheat the oven to 400.  On a cookie sheet, toss the sweet potato and parsnip with the olive oil and salt.  Place in the oven and roast for 15 minutes.  Take the sheet out of the oven and add the asparagus and fiddleheads to the pan.  Toss again, adding a little more oil if it looks like it needs it.  Place the vegetables back in the oven and roast for about 20-25 minutes more, tossing occasionally, until the vegetables are tender and browned.

Pre-Dinner Refreshment

Lobster and Fiddlehead Penne

There we go, once around the sun.  It's been about a year since I started this adventure, cooking and sharing recipes with you.  And now we've come full circle.  Fiddleheads are in season again, along with spring rains and the promise of summer.  Greenhouses are open, lawns are being mowed, spinach and lettuce are sprouting in the garden.

At the Union Street Cafe we've had a hectic week serving brunch to many many mothers and their families over the weekend and hosting the Lieutenant Governor (she had our Nearly Famous Fishcakes and Greek Salad).  My sister Meagan and decided to have our own Mother's Day celebration at home.  She had cooked lobster in the fridge, and I picked up some fiddleheads.  We stole alfredo sauce, a baguette, and a beautiful salad of Penner's organic greens from the restaurant.  And a bottle of Windermere wine.

Windermere is a gorgeous not-dry white wine made by Jost Winery.  The grapes, romantically named KW 94-2, were developed from crossing grape varieties in the 1980s at the Kentville Research Station.  They are grown just outside Berwick in Windermere by Jim Gray, one of our favourite raspberry growers. It goes well with some of the more wine-challenging dishes at the Cafe, notably our Chicken Curry.  Of course, it is absolutely sublime with creamy pasta with lobster and the season's first fiddleheads.

Lobster and Fiddlehead Penne

Colours of springtime!  Ribbons of beet greens or spinach would be welcome additions to this gorgeous dish.

1 lb. Penne
2 T. Butter
1 clove Garlic
1/2 lb.  Fiddleheads, well washed (trim off any brown ends)
1 C. Whipping Cream
1/4 C. freshly grated Parmesan Cheese
Salt and Pepper
2 C. chopped cooked Lobster (you could use thawed frozen lobster meat or prepare your own)
more Parmesan for serving

Bring a large pot of well-salted water to a boil, add the penne, and cook until almost tender (the pasta will cook again later and you don't want moosh).  Drain, reserving a little of the cooking water.  Meanwhile, place a large saute pan over medium-high heat and add the butter.  When it has melted, add the garlic and fiddleheads and saute for a few minutes.  Before the garlic browns, add the cream and bring to a boil.  Add the lobster meat, the penne, Parmesan cheese, a healthy pinch of salt and a few grindings of pepper to the pan.  Using tongs, toss while the cream reduces to a sauce that just clings to the pasta.  If you've gone too far and the pasta seems dry, add a little of the cooking water.  Divide into bowls and top with a little more Parmesan.

The Sweetest Parsnips

Parsnips may be a winter food, but it is in the spring that they are at their most sublime.  Allowed to rest in the ground through the coldest season, starches in the parsnip convert into sugar.  The same thing happens when commercial farmers harvest in the autumn and then store the parsnips at around 0° for at least two weeks.  My dad just harvested his parsnips, a fine crop of huge but tender white roots that smelled sweet, earthy, and mysterious.  As a kid, I thought parsnips tasted like unlit cigars.  I still find something exotic about their taste, especially when roasted, a taste like incense, and well, tobacco.  Maybe my taste buds are weird because I could not find them described this way anywhere.


Anyway, I've been hearing whispers of putting parsnips in desserts for years and decided that I had to try it.  I used Union Street Cafe's Morning Glory Muffin recipe, tweaked the spices and grated in rich, earthy parsnips in place of the carrots.  All went well.  They baked beautifully, and when they cooled, Molly and I slathered them with Cream Cheese Frosting.  They are subtly parsnip-y, a taste that fits very well, as it turns out, with cinnamon, nutmeg, and ginger.


Parsnip Cupcakes
I waited until the kids were halfway through eating their cupcake before I revealed the secret ingredient.  They still ate them and asked for more.

2 C. Grated Parsnip
2 C. Flour
1 C. Sugar
2 t. Baking Soda
2 t. Cinnamon
1 t. Ground Ginger
1/4 t. Nutmeg (freshly grated is awesome, but pre-ground works, too)
1 t. Salt
3 Eggs
1 C. Vegetable Oil
2 t. Vanilla
Line a 12 cup muffin tin with liners or grease well.  Preheat the oven to 350.  Combine the parsnips, flour, sugar, baking soda,
cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and salt in a large bowl.  In another bowl, whisk the eggs, oil and vanilla.  Pour the egg mixture over the parsnip mixture and mix gently until thoroughly combined.  Spoon batter into cups and bake for 20-25 minutes, until springy and firm.  Let cool on a rack while you make the frosting.

Cream Cheese Frosting

12 oz. Cream Cheese
½ C. Softened Butter
1 T. Vanilla
3 ½ C. Icing Sugar

Pulse in food processor just until smooth and creamy.Top each cupcake with a generous swirl of frosting and maybe grate a little nutmeg on top.

Roasted Parsnips
Perhaps the best way to prepare most root vegetables, roasting capitalizes on every bit of parsnip's natural sweetness and is super-easy to boot!

1 lb. Parsnips, peeled and cut into 1 inch chunks
2 T. (or more) Olive Oil
1/2 t. Salt

 Preheat oven to 400.  Toss parsnips, oil, and salt in a bowl, then spread in a single layer on a cookie sheet with sides.  Roast for 20-30 minutes, stirring from time to time, until parsnips are tender and caramelized.