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.