rainy days delight me

Ting. Ting. Droplets fall on my hand shovel and make the loveliest sound. The rain starts by tiptoeing and then breaks into exuberant dance.

The garden is magnificent in the rain. The banana trees have grown so tall that their leaves form a majestic umbrella. Perched beneath is the perfect spot to watch the earth quench its thirst. The smell of pine permeates the air except for intermittent whiffs of lemon jojoba conditioner in my damp hair.

The cool weather has had a remarkable affect on the lettuces and swiss chard. They are happily sprouting. Most of the tomatoes, however, have had a long, prosperous season and sadly are waning. I did manage to pick a basketful of tiny golden tomatoes that look like jewels. Small pear-shaped black plum tomatoes are just ripening so tomato heaven will last a bit longer.

I trimmed the red veined sorrel so that the tender new leaves won’t have to reach through the forest of the seasoned ones. Baby white eggplant dangle and sway in the wind.

It’s time to dry off a bit…..

chilly air...

Things have been extraordinarily busy which has left little time for writing…until this very moment.

The crisp air is settling in and making me crave all the delights of fall – one of my favorite times of year. I have been eyeing candy apples in shop windows and giant pumpkins being sold on street corners by the same men that picked them hours earlier.

Leaves rustle and shake themselves loose. Tuesday we’re expecting a much needed rain. I love the rain except when my roof has yet to be fixed. A few tarps will have to deter the droplets from sneaking in.

a bit of garden maintenance...

I've been working so much in the kitchen lately, I've neglected the garden. Granted it will be easier when all I have to do is open my back door and wander out in my pajamas to check on things. Soon, fingers crossed, soon.

On this warm morning I've driven over to the house and have several hours to spend in the garden. It was just enough time to tie the leggy tomatoes to their trellises, clear the bed that recently housed enormous squash plants (unfortunately, they got a bad case of powdery mildew and withered away), fill that same bed with Scarlet Nantes carrot seeds and pick the tiny dark seeds from my dried kale pods for future plantings.

I chuckle when I look down at myself. My fingertips are caked with chlorophyl and my arms are dusted with soil. What a grand way to start the day!

baby lemon bundts

Even when the majority of my week was spent whirring creamy cauliflower soup in the Vita-mix or searing juicy pork burgers for my clients, on weekends I find a sense of calm when I'm in the kitchen baking.

I love watching the flour fall in white heaps on the parchment as I drag my knife across the top of the measuring cups or the grains of sugar that disperse on the cutting board and sparkle as they catch the light. And I love peeking through the oven window to behold the magic of baking powder as it elevates the treats inside to new heights.

This weekend I experimented with the cast aluminum baby bundt pan I recently purchased from Surfas (a local restaurant supply store chock full of interesting food and kitchen items). With an abundance of garden lemons on hand, I decided a lemon bundt cake recipe was the ticket. The result were these wonderful little cakes. I'm not done experimenting though...they need a slightly brighter more lemony flavor. And while the organic powdered sugar does work for icing, it's not that beautiful snowy white color that stands out against the golden cake crumb. Another try and I think I'll be able to share the recipe. Until then, have a sweet day!

Masumoto's Elberta Peaches

There's a sweet peach fragrance clinging to the warm living room air; rows of sunshine colored Elberta peaches cover my pop-up table.

Four summer's in a row, I have been the lucky recipient of my friends Amelia and Ralph's peach picking invitation. And each year when I discover their email with the date for the picking extravaganza my heart skips a beat.

These peaches aren't any ordinary peaches. These organic peaches are from Masumoto's 80-acre family farm in Selma, California (approximately three and a half hours from Los Angeles). They are the juiciest peaches I've ever had, which means I stand over the sink when devouring them.

David Mas Masumoto (otherwise know as Mas), the wonderfully warm peach farmer and his delightful family came up with a brilliant way to share their Elberta peaches. They started a peach adoption program which means early in the year, those interested in peach picking, fill out an application and write an essay stating what they would do with the bounty of 'babies' (a term Mas uses for his peaches) that they will pick if chosen. Those accepted pay a fee for their tree and must commit to two weekends of peach picking which can be split with friends.

Our tradition starts out early Friday afternoon. We bring with us treats and wine that can be shared in the hotel room prior to dinner. Then we head to a local Mexican restaurant for super casual fare. The next morning we're at the farm by 7:30am and after Mas' explains the art of picking a peach, we excitedly find our tree, setup a ladder, buckets and boxes. We start by assessing the varied shades of orange, yellow, and green that determine the ripeness of the fruit.

While it's extremely satisfying finding perfectly ripe fruit on the tree, it's also acceptable to pick fruit that's not quite ripe. Slightly green or light yellow fruit will ripen sitting on a counter and will extend what I call 'peach heaven.'

We fill yellow buckets with warm, fuzzy peaches. The sorting process then begins. We line boxes with plastic sleeves that are numbered according to how many peaches will fit in each box and then sort the peaches by size and ripeness. All ripe small peaches go in one box while unripe small peaches go in another. We mark the boxes as to what's inside and continue this process until all the 'ready' peaches are picked from the tree, sorted and boxed.

If the pleasure of participating in this amazing experience isn't enough, Mas' family and a plethora of volunteers whip up a peachy breakfast that we eat under the sun dappled leaves of the peach trees.

Peach picking usually finishes by 10:30am and with full bellies and dusty cars piled high with boxes of warm peaches we head for the highway. All the way home there's talk of what delicious treats the peaches will take the shape of and how we can't wait to share our loot with our friends.

This is a summer tradition that I hope lasts forever.

Blueberry Streusel Coffee Cake

There is something about Sunday mornings that makes me want to bake. Filling the still air with the sounds of egg shells cracking and the Kitchenaid whirring is music like no other. As the timer counts down, the smell of sweetness fills the rooms and sneaks out vents and windows to drive passers-by crazy.

Yesterday, with a large container of plump, sweet blueberries on hand, I decided to make a blueberry-streusel coffee cake. It was barely out of the oven when I was asked, "When can I cut a piece?" Twenty minutes later, I too gave in to the smell and soon had streusel crumbs tumbling to the floor as I devoured one piece and then two.

This yummy treat is adapted from a Martha Stewart recipe and I think you will find it hard to resist just having one piece. Happy baking!

Blueberry-Streusel Coffee Cake

1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, room temp (plus more for pan)

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

1 cup sugar

2 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup sour cream

1 cup fresh (or frozen) blueberries (if using frozen, toss them first with a very small amount of flour so that they don't bleed into the batter)

1 cup streusel (see below)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Butter a 9-inch tube pan; set aside. In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt; set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla on medium speed until light and fluffy, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the flour mixture in three parts, alternating with the sour cream and beginning and ending with the flour. Beat until just combined, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.

Spoon about half the batter into the prepared pan. Arrange the berries in a single layer on top of the batter; avoid placing any berries against the pan's edge, as they may stick or burn if not fully encased in batter. Top with the remaining batter, making sure it is evenly distributed. Smooth with an offset spatula. Sprinkle the streusel evenly over the top of the batter.

Bake until the cake is golden brown and springs back when touched, 50 or so minutes (I've made this in different ovens and some times it takes longer. If you're unsure, use a cake tester..if it come out clean, voila). Transfer the pan to a wire rack set over a rimmed baking sheet and let the cake cool for 15 minutes. Invert the cake onto the rack, then reinvert (so streusel side is up) and let cool completely.

Streusel

(makes 4 cups....since you'll have extra...just store it in the fridge and when you have some yummy fruit from your garden or the farmers market, make a crumble).

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour

3/4 cup packed light-brown sugar

2 1/4 teaspoons ground cinnamon

1 teaspoon coarse salt

1 1/2 stick (3/4 cup) unsalted butter, room temp

In a medium bowl, combine the flour, sugar, cinnamon and salt; cut in the butter using a pastry blender, until large, moist clumps form. Streusel can be refrigerated in an airtight container for up to 2 weeks.

the chiquita

A hybrid snuck in....the Chiquita, a one-inch grape tomato with translucent skin. I didn't realize a hybrid was lurking in the bunch until I started researching this varietal. Darn.

It is a determinate tomato which means all of it's fruit ripen within a short period of time and it tends to stop growing once it reaches a certain height, which is good for smaller spaces.

I was hoping when I popped it in my mouth there would be an explosion of sweetness. No such luck. C'mon if plant breeders are tinkering by cross breeding compatible plants, I expect a spectacular tomato. Instead, it lacks flavor so even if the seeds could be saved (hybrid seeds typically can't be saved because they don't produce plants with identical qualities), I wouldn't bother. Seeds must be open pollinated to be saved which means they are capable of producing seedlings just like the parent plant.

Perhaps roasting these with herbs will be more inspiring.

the tomato collection - part one

Two days ago the first of the heirloom tomatoes were ready.....the gorgeous Turkish Striped Monastery which is said to have been collected at a monastery in Istanbul, Turkey. I discovered it at Tomatomania this year and since I have an affinity for most things Turkish, I snapped it up. It's purchase was determined by it's name and it's name alone since there weren't many details listed on the label. It is on the smaller side (approximately one and a half inches in diameter), full flavored with the perfect amount of acid. I will definitely be saving it's seeds for future plantings.

I've decided that as the various heirlooms ripen, I'll document and post details about each of them. This will help me remember what I've planted and hopefully serve as a planting guide for others.

And then when the plants are laden with fruit, I'll plan a tomato tasting party.

the unripe peach

On a casual walk through the neighborhood the other day, I discovered a broken branch with two green fuzzy specimens.  They were too pretty to leave behind and so I carried them home and set them on my table.  At first glance I thought they might be almonds but when I sliced one open for further investigation, the truth was discovered. The pit said it all. Unripe peaches. 

artichoke blossom

Of course artichokes are delicious but they are beautiful too. I let one flower and I think it's purple tentacles are stunning. It's in a vase on my desk keeping me company.

the tomato hornworm

Tomato season is upon us and soon my garden will be exploding with tomatoes of all shapes and sizes. All in all I planted about fifteen heirloom varieties this year.  Some were old time favs like Purple Cherokee and Green Zebra while the others will surely be tasty surprises. 

The one thing that wreaked havoc on my plants last year was the infamous tomato hornworm aka Manduca quinquemaculata. When it's in caterpillar form, it gets its name from the 'horn' on the very last section of its body. I have a love/hate relationship with this sneaky little creature.  Let me explain.  Somewhere between planting time and when the plants are getting nice and leafy, I’ll notice (hopefully) that bites have been taken out of some of the leaves.  Leafhopper? No. Once I really and I mean really start scanning the leaves for the predator, a strange, yet beautiful worm stares back.  This is the love part.  The hornworm in its various stages is stunning. They’re not noticeably beautiful when they’re tiny but give them a few weeks of munching and they turn into a caterpillar like no other. If left alone, they can get as large as four inches and they have a voracious appetite.  This is the hate part. They will eat an entire plant and move on to the next one.  Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I’ll spot the tiny (.10 cm in diameter) eggs on a leaf. A real give away is dark green (fresh) or black (aged) ‘poo’ on leaves.  If you spot this, look above that area and lurking amongst leaves will be your critter.

At any stage of their existence the most organic way to get rid of them is to find them, pick them off and discard them as you wish.  Just don't move them to another part of your yard, as they will burrow themselves into the earth to pupate. During summer, it takes only two weeks before a moth will emerge from pupae and repeat the cycle. When winter hits don't think you're rid of them. The pupae remains in the soil all winter and emerges as a moth the following spring.

the quince tree and other garden merriments...

A glorious day. There were all sorts of sightings but none would be complete without the bee that insisted on posing.  Wait until you see all of the other things I came across (to be posted soon).

One of the first things I do when I get to the garden is climb the path to the quince tree.  This odd shaped quince tree was rescued a year ago from the sale pile at The Urban Tree Farm in Santa Rosa.  It's odd shape is exactly why I loved it.  It took a beating in the back of the pickup...Santa Rosa to Oakland to L.A.  It is thriving now...I hug it every time I see it.  It has two special quince that hopefully I'll get to taste before the squirrels or birds do.  Here is one of my beauties....

the stuffy blues....

It's terrible being sick especially when you have to cancel various shindigs with friends.  The plan was to go to a wonderful grilling party at my friend Nancy's.  I bought all sorts of gorgeous figs and berries for the planned brown butter fig tart that I was to bring.  Darn.

Drinking my concoction of hot lemon juice, cayenne and Manuka honey, I lay on my crumpled white sheets an exhausted sight.  Temp 102...oh my.  The positive side is that if one must be sick than at least I have a lovely bright bedroom to be sick in.....this cheers me. Propped on pillows I can see bees zigzagging to and from the crevice in my backyard wall.  This also cheers me.  See there I go again with bees. While I'm on that subject, I saw a wonderful old Spanish film, The Spirit of the Beehive.  Not about bees, but they do play a subtle role.

tonight's buzz

I have a thing for bees.  Not just any ole' thing but a mystifying  connection to them.     

There are stories upon stories of my various bee incidences.  But we won't go into those now.

I will tell you that spending time in the presence of bees is magical. This afternoon, I positioned myself right next to the flowering thai basil. I sat for over an hour mesmerized at these tiny fuzzy bodies whirring around me. They didn't mind me one bit. They kept on doing their thing. Curling around each flower they landed on.  Gathering it's nectar.  Again and again.

summer is here...

I know because there's white nectarine, santa rosa and green gage plum juice cascading down my chin.  All in that order.  Sheer delight.  And now I'm eyeing the speckled apricot sitting on the sunny counter. 

Cherry Season at Leona Valley Organics

(posted on Edible L.A. blog)

It is such a treat when at the end of a bumpy dirt road there’s a magical surprise. And that is just what’s in store when you arrive at Leona Valley Organics located in the sun cloaked mountains, approximately 10 miles west of Palmdale.

There are two ways to arrive from Los Angeles: the terribly windy Bouquet Canyon route that doesn’t please those confined to the back seat row, or the14 freeway that is much more straight forward.  It’s a quick road trip and without traffic shouldn’t take you more than one and a half hours.

On a blustery June day, a few friends and I headed up to Leona Valley for a cherry-picking excursion.  I had never been to a u-pick farm and imagined the giant Michiganian backyard cherry tree from my childhood.  That amazing tree’s gnarled limbs reached high in the sky so it needed either a rambunctious child to climb her way to the cherries or a very tall ladder.  Fortunately, neither one is needed at this farm.

Rob and Olga Lambert planted 700 cherry trees (none of them are Lambert cherries) five years ago on three of their seven-acre lot.  It takes five years until the trees produce fruit.  Our visit was perfectly timed because this particular weekend was their first opening to the public and the Brooks cherries were ripe.  We discovered this after we were set free amongst the perfectly manicured trees with our white cherry buckets in tow.  A few important rules were mentioned: do not take the stem of the cherry when picking as the growth for the following year will come from those spurs and start by looking low on the trees – there is some amazing low-hanging fruit.

There are various methods of picking and it’s actually quite fun to watch.  Some wander from tree to tree, grabbing handfuls of what is at eye level.  Others excitedly stop at the first tree in sight and then depart after their bucket is full.  I, however, chose a much more methodical approach.  I wandered around looking at all of the trees before choosing the one that I would delicately reach in and pluck from.  The feeling of standing with “your” tree and coveting every hidden gem is quite transcending.  Just when you think there couldn’t possibly be one more cherry to pick, you crouch lower and another bunch appears under the mossy green leaves.

Not only were the Brooks a glorious shade of burgundy, they had a crunch and sweetness that I may just declare the perfect cherry.  Some cherry aficionados may scoff at this idea but don’t until you taste these juicy bites of heaven. 

It could be luck to have such wonderful fruit your first year, but my feeling is that the intense amount of passion and hard work that went into creating this farm is what makes the cherries taste so good.

Rob and Olga didn’t set out to be cherry farmers.  Rob stumbled upon the property fifteen years ago before he was married and thought that the decaying house once fixed up would turn a good profit.  What he didn’t expect was that Olga would fall in love with the land.  She soon realized that while cars were piling in at the various cherry farms around them, there were so many inspirational ideas that had yet to be done.   She envisioned a farm without piles of dead trees or branches that could poke your eyes out.  They both chuckle and exclaim, “yeah, we call them the eye-pokers.”

They saved up for ten years to be able to afford two wells so that their future cherry trees could be watered.   Rob takes it all very seriously.  He spent years studying their soil type so that he would know how to manage the water.  “You need to know how many inches of water your soil will hold.  Drip irrigation is meant to work in conjunction with your soil type.  There is no need to waste water,” he says.

They decided to become certified organic because no one else was doing it in the area.  It requires a tremendous amount of documentation and those records must be kept for five years.  There are no accidents here, everything is extremely well thought out and planned.

The cherries were planted in a way that would maximize pollination.  Three rows of Bings and three rows of Brooks are patterned throughout the orchard with every third tree in every three rows being a rainier.  Buckwheat and Sage Honey is sold from the local bees that pollinate the trees.

Currently, Leona Valley Organics is growing four varieties: Early Burlats, Brooks, Bing and Ranier.  The first to come into season (around Memorial Day) are the Early Burlats, which are a large and moderately firm fruit. Then are the Brooks, which are a 20-year-old hybrid of Burlat and Rainier that approaches Bing in quality when fully ripe.  Following are the Bing and Raniers.  The Bing have exceptionally large fruit with dark burgundy skin, almost black when fully ripe. The Ranier are a large crack resistant cherry.  It’s skin color is golden yellow with a considerable amount of red blush and very firm clear flesh with distinctive sweet flavor.  It has higher sugar and lower acid than Bing. 

Cherry season in Southern California is approximately one month long and typically finishes at the end of June. I’ve already been back twice and if you ask me what I’m doing next June, you’ll find me at Leona Valley Organics with cherry stained lips.

Note: I just got word that the farm got picked out early.  Their phone number is listed below if you’d like to be put on the mailing list for next year’s highly anticipated cherries.

Organic cherries are $3.60 a pound.  Honey sells for $6.00 for one pound and $10.00 for two pounds.

Leona Valley Organics, 39300 Bouquet Canyon, Leona Valley, CA  93551

661-270-0990

Saturday and Sunday 8am-5pm.  Open by appointment during the week.

welcome!

I'm so glad you're here. It means that I finally created a blog! My wish is to share tidbits from my explorations whether it be yummy recipes, garden discoveries, my photography, travel finds or other strange and unusual things that tickle me and make me go, "wow!"

Why is your blog called 'the puffy marshmallow chronicles,' you ask? When I was a little girl my grandmother for some silly reason nicknamed me 'Puffy' (perhaps my cheeks!?). My brother's name is Marshall and my nickname for him was 'Marshmallow.'  I decided to combine the two words since for me they represent an openness and wonderment in the world. I think that perspective is incredibly important and I try to live my every day with those same sensibilities. 

I hope you enjoy.