If you grew up in the late 70’s, early 80’s, the cartoon character, Strawberry Shortcake with all her scratch-and-sniff paraphernalia may be the first thing that comes to your mind when you hear her name. She and her cat, Custard are still around but hopefully some of us remember her namesake as the early summer dessert consisting of a creamy, slightly-sweet biscuit, cut in half, piled high with freshly sliced strawberries and topped with loads of whipped cream. You could say it’s old-fashioned but it’s the dessert that made shortcake famous and it has stood the test of time. I was surprised when Lily, almost 5, not only knew about the dessert but wanted to make one herself. Her strawberry shortcake was an excellent 1st birthday cake for her Dolly.

Beautiful, ripe, local strawberries are available from Billy’s Gardens at our farmers markets. I’ve been surprised at their sweetness considering how wet and cool our spring has been. The weather certainly hasn’t sweetened me up but having fresh strawberries to eat and Lily helping me bake is definitely helping.

The only part of  making strawberry shortcake that’s even slightly challenging is making the shortcake and that’s easy once you decide it’s okay to make a mess. Cleaning up flour isn’t my favorite chore but it’s so worth it to have freshly baked sweet biscuits. Slice your berries ahead of time, sprinkle with sugar and allow them to macerate so you’ll have plenty of juice to soak into the shortcake. If you feel like making it more sophisticated, add a little balsamic vinegar to balance out the sugar. Whip cream at the last minute or add creme fraiche, if you wish.

I used a version of Scott Peacock’s sweet cream biscuits for my shortcake. His biscuit recipe is one of many techniques to learn by heart in Alice Water’s new book, In the Green Kitchen. This book has a portrait, literally and figuratively, of several notable Slow Food chefs and foodies. Each one gives simple instructions for the most basic foods in their area of expertise. The idea is that once you’ve learned these techniques, you can cook without recipes and improvise to your heart’s content. Amen.

Shortcake or Sweet Cream Biscuits (for 7-8 biscuits)

2  1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1 t sea salt

1  3/4 t baking powder

2 T sugar

5 T cold unsalted butter

1/2 cup half-and-half

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 T unsalted butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

Place all the dry ingredients into a bowl and blend thoroughly using a whisk. Add the cold butter, cut in pieces and work in quickly using your fingers until about half the butter is coarsely blended and half is in larger pieces about 1/2 ” in diameter. (Leaving some larger pieces will result in flakier biscuits).

Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and pour in half-and-half and heavy cream. Stir briefly, just until dough is blended and begins to hold together. The dough will be soft and sticky. If it’s too dry, add a little more cream to incorporate the dry flour.

Place the dough on a floured surface and with floured hands, knead 8 or 10 times until a cohesive ball of dough is formed. Gently flatten and using a floured rolling pin, roll out to a thickness of about 1/2″.  With a dinner fork, pierce the dough completely through at 1/2″ intervals.

Using a 2 1/2″ to 3″ biscuit cutter or a glass, stamp out rounds as close together as you can. Try not to twist the cutter as you stamp. (This is a hard habit to break and I didn’t have the heart to mention it to Lily. For as much as her dough may have been “over-worked”, the results were still delicious).

Bake in the upper third of the oven for 10 – 15 minutes until they’re lightly browned. Remove from the oven and brush with melted butter. Cool on a rack.

Now comes the artistic part. Arrange the berries and whipped cream any way you like and remember to sneak in a bite or two whenever you feel the urge — which in our case was pretty often.

Gelati, gelato. Summer has to be just around the corner. Grilling and Folk Life are happenin’, it’s Memorial Day weekend and at my house the ice cream freezer’s humming. A bumper crop of Montmorency cherries in the front yard will ripen in the next few weeks while two or three quarts from last year loiter in the freezer (along with some ‘09 rhubarb sauce). I need gelato and I need to move last year’s cherries out of the freezer into someone’s belly. Party here on Sunday, I know what they’re having for dessert.

I’ve made gelato several times recently – it was delicious and easy. Truly easy: fifteen minutes or so to make the custard; later on whip the cream, fold it into the custard and then freeze it. Done. Local sour cherries will be available in a few weeks if you want to try this at home. And the chocolate gelato is seasonal any time.

Is gelato just the Italian word for ice cream? Are they the same thing or different? Yes and no. One source said yes and gave these reasons: gelato is made with more milk, less cream and contains 5-7% fat compared to 10% in most ice cream; it’s churned more slowly than ice cream resulting in less air being whipped into the mixture, creating a denser, ‘creamier’ texture; finally, it’s not kept frozen solid and is softer when served. These differences might explain why some of us think we prefer gelato. Another source, The Seasons of the Italian Kitchen Cookbook, says nah, gelato and ice cream are basically the same, but gelato tends to be prepared and consumed within a day or two, not preserved as ice cream is. When all is said and done, give me a bowl of Ben & Jerry’s Coffee Heath Bar Crunch ice cream, or . . .  gelato in a cone on a sunny afternoon. I’m a happy camper either way.

Our 20-year old ice cream maker is hand-cranked and churns the mixture slowly, which turns out may contribute to a creamier gelato. Turn your ice cream maker to low and slow if that’s an option.

Sour Cherry Gelato

Montmorency cherries are especially delectable, but substitute any sour cherry you like.

Sour cherries preparation: Place 2 C sour cherries, 1/4 C sugar, pinch of salt in a small sauce pan and simmer for 4 – 5 minutes/ Optional to add 2 T Triple Sec or Cognac at this point, simmer for 2 more minutes and remove from heat. If you want finer bits of cherry, blend or food process briefly. Refrigerate until later.

Basic Gelato Recipe, from The Seasons of the Italian Kitchen Cookbook. The addition of sour cherries is an innovation which worked out well.

Whisk together 4 egg yolks and 2/3 C sugar until pale yellow and thick/ Slowly add 1 C milk, stirring gently to avoid buildup of foam/ Stir in salt and a strip of lemon peel/ In a double boiler, with water boiling lightly, stir continuously with a wooden spoon or rubber spatula until the cream thickens enough to coat the spoon, about 8minutes/ Foam disappears at moment of thickening/ The stirring constantly is important – you don’t want the eggs to have a chance to scramble/ The result is a thickened, creamy custard/ Place the pan in ice water in order to stop cooking immediately/ Stir and allow to cool for a few minutes, then transfer to a bowl and refrigerate it all, including the lemon peel, for several hours.

When ready to proceed with freezing whip 1 C heavy whipping cream to soft peaks/ Gently fold whipped cream into the cold custard along with the sour cherry sauce/ Very gently/ When blended, place it all in an ice cream freezer and proceed according to directions.

Chocolate Gelato:

Make the basic gelato recipe as described above minus the lemon peel. Melt 6 ounces of chocolate with 3 T milk, stir together until smooth and stir into the still warm custard when it’s finished. Or, next time I’ll add the 6 oz. of chocolate directly to the custard right after it’s done and still piping hot. Either way, chill it all for several hours. Proceed with folding in whipped cream just before freezing as described above. Coarsely grate or chop some of the chocolate and sprinkle it over when serving. Add chopped filberts to chocolaty custard – it would add great crunch. You know, like Ben & Jerry do.

Use a locally produced chocolate if you possibly can, like Theo’s for example.

To make an espresso/coffee version, add 4 T instant espresso to the warm custard before putting it into the fridge. Or . . . espresso + the chocolate, or . . . the chocolate + the cherries. Don’t get me going. The final essential ingredient? Some sunshine.

Okay you muddlers, May is the beginning of mint season here in the Pacific Northwest. Kentucky Derby Day, the first Saturday in May, can be a little early especially if it’s been cool but we can usually scrounge up enough for a couple of juleps. In case you’re wondering, a muddler is the tool a bartender uses to gently crush leaves or fruit to release their juices and flavor. It’s key for all sorts of cool refreshing drinks including the mint julep or mojito — I have our recipes for both so check them out.  Muddling requires a light touch and sugar is often incorporated at the same time. If you don’t have a muddler, try the end of a wooden spoon handle.

We created this julep for our friend Joan, a grower of great mint who prefers vodka to bourbon and it’s actually quite delicious.

Joan’s Julep

Handful of fresh mint leaves plus a sprig for garnish

1/2 t sugar (we use Demerara)

2 oz. vodka

Place mint leaves and sugar in bottom of a chilled glass. Muddle gently. Add 1 oz. vodka and leave it for a few minutes to infuse while you crush ice.

Fill glass with crushed ice.  Pour 2nd oz. vodka over ice and pack it down with the back of a spoon. As ice melts and mixes with vodka, the liquid will almost reach the top of the ice.

Refill glass to the top with more crushed ice, pack down again and garnish with a sprig of mint.

I can’t wait until we can make this for Joan. I hope she’ll like as much as I do.

Mint grows well in our climate, sometimes a little too well. It can be greedy and take over other less vigorous plants so give it plenty of space or plant it in a large pot. It prefers plenty of water but can be drought tolerant. At least a half a day of sunshine is ideal but mine is happy with less in a shadier spot. My memories of mint growing up are that it grew well under a leaky outdoor faucet. Hopefully, you don’t have one but positioning it near a downspout can serve the same purpose. There are hundreds of varieties and I’m not even sure what ours is since it came with our house but the most common for use in the kitchen is spearmint. The farmers market and nurseries are loaded with plants now so even if you don’t have a garden, plant a pot of mint and use it often. It’s extremely versatile and works in all kinds of drinks and dishes, both sweet and savory, alcoholic and non-alcoholic. If you have kids around, let them pinch the tender new leaves, helping the plant become bushier and providing a little snack or an aromatic addition to potions of any description.

Even if you’re a teetotaler, fresh mint makes a refreshing tea, either on it’s own, added as a garnish to your favorite tea or in combination with other herbs from the garden. A sprig of tarragon, lavender, lemon verbena, lemon balm and even rosemary can make an excellent friend for your mint in a pot of tea. You can use a french press coffee pot to make a batch of mint tea and forgo the straining. Just load up your pot with mint, pour in hot water, let it steep for at least 10 minutes and then serve hot or over ice, sweetened or not. Take it outdoors and sit and sip in that lovely spot you’ve created in your garden but rarely take the time to enjoy.

For an adults-only dessert, try this lusciously creamy Mint Julep Panna Cotta from my latest favorite Southern cookbook, The Lee Bros. Simple Fresh Southern, which by the way was nominated for the prestigious 2010 James Beard Award in the American Cooking category. Once I started taking bites for this photograph, I couldn’t stop — take a bite, take a photo and so on… I had to keep telling myself that eating this dessert didn’t really count as drinking before noon — most of the bourbon is boiled off but the intense flavor remains. It’s a definite winner in my book — simply delicious.

Mint Julep Panna Cotta (6 individual servings)

1/2 cup bourbon ( I used Rebel Yell)

3/4 cup whole milk

2 cups heavy cream

1/3 cup sugar

1/2 cup packed fresh mint leaves removed from the stem

1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise or 1 t vanilla extract

1 1/2 t unflavored gelatin powder (like Knox gelatin)

Vegetable oil

Place bourbon in a small saucepan and set over medium heat. Boil for a minute or two until reduced by half. Set aside.

Combine milk, cream, sugar and mint leaves in a medium saucepan. Scrape the seeds from the vanilla bean and add to the pan along with the pod. (If using vanilla extract, you’ll add later). Set over low heat and slowly bring just to a boil, stirring occasionally. This will take about 30 minutes.

Meanwhile , place 3 T water in a small bowl and sprinkle gelatin over it. Set it aside for 10 minutes to soften and absorb the water.

Pour a little vegetable oil onto a paper towel and use to lightly but completely coat 6 small (6 ounce) ramekins

When the milk begins to boil, remove from the heat and add the gelatin, stirring until dissolved. Add the bourbon (and vanilla extract if using), then pour through a fine-mesh sieve into a pitcher with a spout.

Divide the liquid among the oiled ramekins. Allow to cool for several minutes, then cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate until set, up to 2 days.

You can serve the panna cotta in the ramekins or unmold them by slipping a thin knife around the edge to loosen the custard. Dip the bottom of the ramekin in hot water for a few seconds. Pat the ramekin dry, place a plate on top, then invert. If it won’t come out, give the ramekin a tap or set in hot water again.

Garnish with fresh mint leaves and serve immediately.

Taken from an adaptation of the Lee Bros. recipe by Imbibe magazine — a great source for seasonal cocktails.

That’s the beauty of individual servings, you’re supposed to eat the whole thing.

What can I say? She’s a babe. Eight weeks ago rhubarb lay dormant in her own leafy compost, today with hot pink stalks and abundant crinkly leaves ablaze, she struts her stuff. These first leafings are positively iridescent in their exuberance. (Don’t even think about eating them!) Enough for a small bowl of sauce.

The backyard scene is brimming with adolescent attitude. Lilacs on the brink, daffodils almost done now, and aromatic evergreen Clematis in full array. Small lettuce starts in the back row are growing like weeds, peas planted two weeks ago are just barely peaking out, surrounded optimistically by sturdy poles for their climbing, garlic and the leeks’ green leaves become more robust every day, chives have been around for weeks now, sorrel has come into its own, plenty of dandelions too, and in the far corner by herself, rhubarb.

Rhubarb in the garden is a lot like tending the kale plants each year, which is almost not at all. Once established, rhubarb literally takes care of itself and feeds us from March into June. With kale, it’s October through March and then florets take over for a few weeks, a prelude to their final seasonal bow.

I arrived home from a workshop late afternoon Saturday, brain improved perhaps, but frustrated that I’d missed a beauty of a day outside, the Vernal Equinox. First day of spring. Buoyed by scents of green and flowers and buds from the backyard, I slipped through whispers of fragrance on the way to the back door. The balmy day had stirred the earth and warmed the plants into celebration. It was a divine first-day-of-spring moment, frustrations swept away.

I’ll make the first rhubarb pie on Easter weekend as usual, and there will be a few more on the table throughout spring along with rhubarb crisps, rhubarb  sauce, rhubarb chutney. Today it’s Rhubarb Fool, made with a few of the earliest stalks, star anise and served with Greek yogurt. Traditionally you would use whipped cream for a Fool, but I have this delectable yogurt.

You might ask yourself, what is a Fool, dessert-wise? Plenty of ways to play with that name. I’m a fool for wordplay myself, but I’ll try to refrain. I said I’d try.

Fruit Fool is a classic British dessert, dated as early as the 16th century, usually consisting of fruit puree, whipped cream and whipped egg whites. It’s the perfect backdrop for any seasonal fruit.

Rhubarb Fool with yogurt is dessert- or brunch-worthy. To make it fancy (and traditional), substitute whipped cream for the yogurt if you’re so inclined, and make the little rhubarb curls for garnish, crunchy and delicious. It’s all easy and fast, especially if you have rhubarb growing in the backyard or in the neighborhood (ask first). Local rhubarb is available at Farmer’s Markets for the next few weeks too. Rhubarb might be one of those things you have to have grown up eating, which I, fortunately, did. If you haven’t tried rhubarb before give it a shot. Making a small pot of sauce is a deliciously easy start.

First Days of Spring Rhubarb Fool

Place a spoonful of this sauce in the bottom of a glass, then a spoonful of Greek Yogurt or whipped cream, more sauce, more yogurt and so on. Since the sauce is sweetened, this is good with Greek yogurt, plain and unsweetened, or a mix. Top it off with a drizzle of the sauce’s syrupy juice and a sprig of mint if you have it. Your Fool is ready. (It’s tempting, but I’m not going there.)

Ingredients:

4 C rhubarb, cut into 1-inch pieces

2/3  C sugar (let it cook a bit, taste it and add more or less sugar while sauce is still piping hot)

1 Star Anise, and/or 1 T finely chopped candied ginger

1/2 t salt

Bring it all to a gentle simmer in a saucepan, let it boil for 3 or 4 minutes, cover, turn off heat and let sit for another 5 minutes/ Place in a bowl and refrigerate before serving/ You could strain excess juice off the rhubarb, return it to the pan to simmer and reduce by about half/ This makes a nice syrup for drizzling over each serving. Assemble these ahead of time and let them sit in the fridge for a while – something good happens as it sets, can’t explain it. Drizzle with syrup and a crispy curl just before serving.

Candied Rhubarb Curls: A little fussy (not much), these are worth it. A garnish that make this super simple seasonal dessert smashing. Using a vegetable peeler, peel a dozen or so 6-inch strips of rhubarb off the stalk. Dip into sugar syrup, place on parchment so that they’re not touching each other, and bake for 45 minutes at 200º. The moment they’re removed from the oven, briefly wrap each one around the end of a wooden spoon and set aside. A few were too crisp to curl, but still delish. They’re a wonderful crunchy counterpoint to the soft yogurt and rhubarb sauce.

To make sugar syrup: place equal parts water and sugar in a saucepan (I used 1/4 C each) and simmer until sugar is completely dissolved.

Enjoy your Fool.

Thanks to Epicurious for inspiration for the Fool and crispy curls.

More rhubarb: Rhubarb Coffee Cake, Rhubarb Sauce & Crisp, Rhubarb-Thyme Jam, Rhubarb-Thyme Tonic

Valentine’s Day next week, and a  few days ago we toasted our Mixed Greens’ two-year anniversary (thankyou dear readers). In celebration – okay, Super Bowl too – chocolate pudding. Like retro sleek-winged sofas and my mom’s Russell Wright dishes of the fifties, chocolate pudding deserves a comeback and some respect. Plus, it was among our first posts so there’s the sentimental factor.

I know. Pudding? Trust me, this isn’t the grade school cafeteria version, but something out of creamy chocolate heaven for all of your sweethearts on Valentine’s Day. Not bad Bowl fare either. Chocolate pudding, a spoon, a Lazyboy, a remote and football. A chocolaty smooch. What more is there?

Poppy, my friend, I send one to you, a smooch. It’s been, still is a great ride!

We have a number of fabulous chocolatiers in the area, but Theo takes the cake, or the pudding, when it comes to an ethical, sustainable product. Use locally produced chocolate if you can, especially Theo. “The only organic, fair trade, bean-to-bar chocolate factory in the United States.” I called their headquarters in Seattle, a real person answered the phone (I’m smitten with just that) and took time to answer my question and explain. I wondered what was recommended for cooking and she suggested their Ghana and Jayne Goodall bars. I found them on sale at PCC and went with that.

Chocolate Pudding (6 – 8 servings)

Gather ingredients and this takes about 20 minutes, start to finish.

Ingredients: 1 C sugar/ 1/4 C cornstarch/ Pinch of salt/ 8 ounces of bittersweet or dark chocolate, chopped/ 2 2/3 cups whole milk/ 2 egg yolks/ 2 T butter/ 1/2 t vanilla. (Use pure chocolate, a good bar or cooking chocolate.)

Mix the sugar, cornstarch, chocolate and salt in a heavy saucepan. Whisk milk and egg yolks together in a separate bowl and then pour into the sugar mixture. Whisking continually, bring it all to a boil over medium heat and continue cooking for one more minute. Chocolate melts, mixture thickens and becomes the familiar dessert we know and can love again. Pudding!

Remove from the heat and stir in the butter and vanilla. Cool for just a few minutes and then pour into 6 or 8 bowls, depending on serving size. Cover with plastic wrap or waxed paper and chill. Top with a dollop of sweetened whipped cream and a little grated chocolate before serving.

Cut this recipe in half and it makes enough for about 4 servings.

Valentine’s, Super Bowl, Anniversaries . . . celebrate it all.

Welcome to Mixed Greens, February 11, 2008

Fondues are the perfect foil for winter blues, something gooey and melted wrapped around almost anything that we can dip or stick a fork into. For Pacific Northwesterners today is the year’s shortest day, longest night. Winter Solstice. Although we don’t dance around maypoles in chiffon, we do we have seasonal food rituals and celebrations having to do with the cold and dark, among them fondue.

We’re grateful for an excuse to dip winter vegetables like carrots, cauliflower, cabbage, fennel, potatoes and squash into almost any sauce, especially melted cheese; fruit and cookies into chocolate. I feel better just thinking about it. So the other day I did get to thinking about it, and thinking about it and thinking about it and I couldn’t stop. I headed for the thrift shop looking for fondue-making apparatus, and was determined to concoct my own even if I came away empty handed. I would melt whatever I could get my hands on and dip away. But naturally, what I could get my hands on were cheese and chocolate.

Turned out that I borrowed a fondue set from my sister-in-law, Deb. If you’re so inclined check around – fondue sets are out there in thrift shops. Brand new is an option of course. Not frivolous kitchen paraphernalia, if you love fondue, i.e. melted cheese, there’s good reason for the official set. Off heat, cheese and chocolate begin to congeal within a few minutes, drastically altering the silky pleasure of the perfect melt. If you’re dying for fondue right this minute and don’t have the equipment, it’s possible to serve prepared fondue in a bowl and reheat contents in a microwave as needed . . . serve fondue in an oven- or hot water-warmed bowl placed in a hot water bath . . . or, just stand around the stove and go for it.

However you get there, fondue sets the mood for cozy coffee table tête-à-têtes with friends and lovers gathered around, merrily dipping into melted whatever. There should be candle or firelight. It could be a savory reduced and thickened broth with bread or roasted vegetables as the dipping medium. It could be the classics like cheese and chocolate. It could be mostly local by using locally produced cheese and chocolate, a Washington white wine, and so on. Quick to prepare, savor it slowly.

Cheese Fondue Appetizer

Coarsely grate 2 1/2 – 3 C Gruyere cheese, mix with 2 T cornstarch and set aside/ Rub the inside of a saucepan generously with a clove of garlic/ In saucepan bring 1 1/4 C white wine, 2 T lemon, 2 T Kirsch or Calvados (optional) to simmer/ Simmer for 2 minutes/ Add cheese, turn heat down and stir until it’s all combined.

Pour fondue into pot with Sterno, low level flammable heat source, lit and in place, or into a microwavable bowl for reheating. Serve immediately with pieces of sturdy bread, apple, pear, lightly steamed broccoli or cauliflower, squash, fennel, tortellini, breadsticks . . . add tomato salsa to the cheese melt. With fondue, like salad dressing, once you have the basic structure there are myriad possibilities for variation. Lots of cheese, 3 cups or so, 2 tablespoon of cornstarch or flour, 1 1/4 – 1/1/2 C white wine, a garlic-rubbed pot, a pinch of nutmeg or paprika, a splash of Kirsch if you like, and heat for melting – the basic formula. Though fondue was invented, perhaps out of necessity, using white wine, Gruyere and bread, use some Gruyere and whatever else is in the fridge.

The following fondue recipes, just their names, inspire invention:

Three-Cheese Fondue with Tomato Chutney

Onion Cheese Fondue

Chipotle Cheese Fondue

Garlic Cheese Fondue

Crab and Cheddar Fondue

Blue Cheese Fondue

Mexican and Pizza Fondues

Roasted Pepper and Goat Cheese Fondue

You get the picture. Add cinnamon and sugar to Brie and you have a dessert fondue. And, there’s always chocolate.

Chocolate Fondue

So easy, and again there’s a pretty standard approach which can be embellished to suit your own fancy. Just chocolate and whipping cream. Start there.

Heat the whipping cream to barely simmering (3/4 C), add chopped or grated dark chocolate (2 C), turn heat to low, stir until it’s combined and it’s ready. Several sources suggest no more than 64% cacao content. Theo, Fran’s or Dilettante are excellent sources of locally produced chocolate.  Add more or less cream or chocolate as needed, a splash of cognac or brandy, chopped nuts, vanilla, a tablespoon of espresso, stand around the stove and dip away, or pour chocolate into a fondue pot, settle into a candlelit corner and take your time. Almost anything is dippable, especially pound cake, biscotti, marshmallows, graham crackers, dried fruits, bananas, apple, pear, strawberries when in season . . .

It’s the season for giving and Seattle Youth Garden Works is a cause worth supporting. Seattle Youth Garden Works has provided essential garden-based job training programs for Greater Seattle’s homeless and at-risk youth since 1995.

Baby it’s cold outside, and dark. This poem by Philip Larkin expresses the turn of seasons and *winter’s quiet secret.

First Sight

Lambs that learn to walk in snow

When their bleating clouds the air

Meet a vast unwelcome, know

Nothing but a sunless glare.

Newly stumbling to and fro

All they find, outside the fold,

Is a wretched width of cold.

As they wait beside the ewe,

Her fleeces wetly caked, there lies

Hidden round them, waiting too,

Earth’s immeasurable surprise.

They could not grasp it if they knew,

What so soon will wake and grow

Utterly unlike the snow.

I admit that I might have had a little problem with the traditional candied fruit and cake product. Winter’s culinary ritual perhaps, but show me one who loves fruitcake and I’ll give you ten who don’t. (Or am I way off about this?) Poetic justice happens and when I got married fruitcake was part of the deal, a large family’s holiday favorite. Oh great, I thought. Turned out to be not a problem. At all.

What changed? Solstice brings Roberta’s fruitcake and it’s good enough to savor, to long for, to put on the holiday table, to wrap up in a package for anyone you love. Abundantly endowed with dried apricots, dates, and walnuts this is the fruitcake that’s become tradition in our family. And there’s room for innovation like dried plums from the backyard, dried cranberries or apples, almonds or hazelnuts . . . the character, the beauty of this fruitcake is in its dried fruit and nuts with just a little binder, eggs, flour and sugar, no fat and nothing whatsoever candied.

I know I’m beating the drum, and loudly. Here’s the deal. My mother-in-law, Roberta, found our California Fruitcake recipe in a 1960s Sunset magazine, recognized its potential, made many loaves every Christmas for decades and distributed them widely to her children, friends and family, gradually converting dozens of Pacific Northwesterners to the other side of the fruitcake debate. And I have to say that every one of us is glad to be here, eating fruitcake and liking it, not as a courtesy, but in grateful adulation.

Thanks to Roberta’s culinary tenacity, and Sunset, loaves of fruitcake multiplied, along with our devotion to them. Family tradition now.

The thing about fruitcake in general is that we came to it, well, our ancestors did, out of necessity. Traditionally, fruitcake has been a way to savor fruit mid-winter, a way to use whatever had been dried from the previous summer. Fresh strawberries, blueberries, bananas, lemons and oranges are recent winter commodities (and, contribute to a hefty carbon footprint as they’re transported from southern to northern latitudes each winter). A hundred years ago you might have had dried fruit like apples, apricots, cranberries, grapes, peaches or plums preserved from the previous season, walnuts from a neighbor’s tree. Fruitcake was, and is, about using a previous summer’s preserved bounty in winter. Ingredients can be stored on a shelf in the pantry, back then it was the cellar.

Another thing about this fruitcake, OK any fruitcake, is that each slice is an eyeful, a collage, a fruity kaleidoscope of color and curve, a stained glass window of food . . . sigh.

That Sunset magazine’s gone, but each of Roberta’s children has a handwritten copy of the recipe. Culinary legacy is a pretty wonderful thing to pass on and Roberta has. (See Bert’s Brownies in a previous post.) Her children, her friends and cousins make this fruitcake, as will their children, and theirs.

California Fruitcake

Ingredients: 3/4 C flour/ 1/4 t baking powder, 1/4 t soda, 1/2 t salt/ 3/4 C brown sugar/ 2 C whole, pitted dates/ 1 1/2 C apricots, coarsely chopped/ 3 C walnut halves/ 3 eggs and 1 t vanilla, beaten together until frothy/ Parchment or waxed paper-lined small loaf pans/ Preset oven to 300º. Note that other fruits and nuts may be substituted. The dates, though not a local fruit, provide a rich base.

Sift flour, BP, soda and salt together/ Mix together with sugar in a large bowl/ Add fruit and nuts, stir together to coat/ Add eggs and vanilla to the fruit and dried ingredients/ It becomes a wonderful gooey mess of mostly fruit and nuts.

Spoon into small loaf pans – 4 very small or 2 larger pans – lined with wax or parchment paper/ Bake at 300º/ Time will vary according to pan size. Original recipe suggests 1 1/2 hours, convection baking requires less time, and a little more than an hour is about right in our oven/ Toothpick testing doesn’t work – you have to take a visual read on the fruitcake, even remove it from the oven for a moment, peel off a corner of the parchment, which I did, take a peak and return to oven if you like/ An hour and fifteen minutes, give or take, works for me/ Remove paper immediately after baking is complete. This is important/ Place on rack to cool/ Slice the fruitcake, savor its beauty and fruity deliciousness. Happy Holidays.

Previously published holiday favorites:

Roasted Cranberry Sauce

Cranberry Upsidedown Cake

Pear Ginger Upsidedown Cake

Spicy Candied Hazelnuts

December 25th Breakfast: Salmon with Eggs & Potato Gratin

We love her decisively pear-shaped bod and the way she fans the culinary flame at the swivel of her ample hip. Party animal. Local pears are in town for the holidays offering feastworthy fare from salads to chutney to desserts. Put your party dress on, grab a pear and get cookin’.

Etta’s Pear Upside-Down Gingerbread

Roasted Pear & Radicchio Salad with Hazelnuts & Creamy Blue Cheese Dressing

Radicchio’s bitterness is softened with grilling or roasting and is a zesty partner for honey roasted pears, toasted hazelnuts and blue cheese. A gorgeous winter salad, throw a few dried cranberries on top if you have them. A little extra effort is required for the roasting of the pears and radicchio, toasting hazelnuts, but it’s worth it, and the blue cheese dressing comes together quickly.

Roasted Pear & Radicchio Salad with Hazelnuts & Creamy Blue Cheese: Peel, cut in half and core 2 pears. Place sprigs of thyme on a parchment-lined baking pan, place pears, cut side down, on top of thyme. Drizzle with 2 T honey. Roast in a 350º oven for 15 minutes.

While pears roast, lightly oil, salt & pepper quartered pieces of radicchio. Roast with the pears, for 8 – 10 minutes, remove from the oven, cool and slice.

Lightly toast 1/2 C hazelnuts, or more ambitiously, make  sweet & spicy hazelnuts. Chop coarsely for salad.

Dressing: 3 – 5 oz. blue cheese (reserve half of it), 1/2 C sour cream, 1/4 C mayonnaise or yogurt, 2 T half & half or whole milk, 1 small peeled clove of garlic. Mix together in a blender, or by hand with a whisk. If it’s too thick, add a little more milk.

Assemble a mix of radicchio or mazuma and arugula among four salad plates – or whatever greens are available. Drizzle with plenty of creamy dressing. Top with 1/2 roasted pear, a few bits of the reserved blue cheese, and a generous handful of coarsely chopped hazelnuts. Grated fresh pepper. Good way to start a party.

Etta’s Pear Upside-Down Gingerbread

This Tom Douglas recipe arrived in the mail several years ago when he was doing monthly newsletters. We love it.

Makes a 10-inch cake, serving 10 or 12 people. Active time 30 minutes, total time 1 1/2 hr.

The Topping: Preheat oven to 350º/ 2 1/2 firm pears (like Bosc), 1/2 stick melted butter (1/4 C), 3/4 or 1 C packed light brown sugar.

Peel, core and slice the pears. 1 1/2 large pears, sliced, filled my pan./ Brush the bottom and sides of the cake pan with some of the 1/4 C butter, reserve the rest/ Press the brown sugar in the bottom of the pan and drizzle the reserved melted butter over it/ Arrange pear slices in a circular pattern over the brown sugar-butter mixture/ Set the prepared cake pan aside.

The Gingerbread Cake: In a large bowl whisk together 2 eggs, 1 C melted butter, the zest of 1 orange and 1 C sugar/Set aside.

In a small bowl whisk together 1 C coffee and 1/2 C molasses/ Set aside/ In yet another bowl, sift together 2 1/2 C flour, 2 t baking soda, 1 t salt, 1 t cinnamon, 2 t ginger, 1/2 t nutmeg/ Alternately add the wet (coffee-molasses) ingredients and the dry ingredients to the egg-sugar mixture/ When the batter is completely mixed, pour it into the prepared pan (over the pears, sugar & butter).

Bake at 350º for about 40 – 45 minutes or until done. Full disclosure. I made the mistake of taking this one out too soon. It looked fine, but needed more like 50 rather than 45 minutes baking time. Still, it’s delicious.

Remove cake from oven and allow to cool in the pan 5 – 10 minutes, then run a knife around the outside edge and carefully invert pan onto a large plate. Lift the pan away and there you have the circle of caramelized pears on top of the ginger cake. Dark and rich and gooey, with or without cognac-spiked whipped cream, this is another of the versatile pears’ party moves.

Pear Ginger Chutney Delicious with pork, chicken and turkey, a great gift. Doesn’t have to be preserved, it will hold refrigerated in a jar for two or three weeks.

Speaking of parties, we’re all invited to participate in the Eat Local Thanksgiving challenge. “The Eat Local for Thanksgiving campaign was created to shine a public spotlight on the connections that buying locally has to the environment, use of fossil fuels and energy, supporting our local community, and helping keep our local farmers farming.”

I might end up eating my words, but with Farmers Markets offering abundant autumnal fruits, roots and greens the challenge of putting local food on the Thanksgiving table is readily attainable. A little more thought might be required to find a local/regional turkey, but they’re around too.

COMING SOON: We’re updating, and we think, uplifting our site. Same MixedGreens header, same broads at the helm, but with more photographs, easier maneuvering for readers, we hope, and a photo gallery. A couple of weeks away give or take. Stay tuned.

Roberta’s hugs were never obligatory or cavalier. She would take hold of you, look you in the eye with a smile and go in for the real deal, a long lasting embrace including whispered words of affection. For that moment you were the world to her. And that’s how I held our Desolation Sound vacation last week. I opened up my arms, grabbed hold and savored a long repose that went on for seven days and nights.

There was intention to this trip. We love the place, have sailed here many summers, and wanted to return on our own behalf, and we had Roberta’s ashes with us, my mother-in-law, to place in a tool shed on the dock with others of her generation. Her dearest friends, including Ben, her husband. They had all loved the place together every summer for twenty-odd years. So the week was filled with our own exploration and adventure while we reminisced about her – that she and Ben first brought us to this place, that friends made there are like family now, that she, among a few others, led us to loving the wild B.C. coast, sailing, skinny dipping, conversation and good food.

Which brings us to the brownies. Her vacation menus were thoughtfully planned in advance of each month-long trip, lovingly prepared with a cocktail hour and something for dessert. Salad, while usually delicious, would sometimes include a few lettuce leaves past their prime – she hated throwing those only half rotten bits away. But, if you were lucky, she’d have made a batch of brownies. Bert’s Brownies.

So, while we were there we forced ourselves – it was rough, but somebody had to do it – to also be thoughtful about skinny-dipping, bird watching, conversation, the cocktail hour, appetizers, homemade bread, cinnamon toast in the morning (another ode to Bert), dessert, and especially her brownies. Two batches made last week, for after dinner and a bite with coffee in the mornings. It was a long hug in her honor, our week in Desolation Sound.

Bert’s Brownies

1/2 C butter

3 squares unsweetened chocolate

4 eggs

2 C sugar

1 C flour

1/2 t salt

1 t baking powder

1 t vanilla

This can easily be mixed by hand. Slowly melt butter and chocolate together in a saucepan, stirring occasionally/ Allow to cool a few minutes/ Beat eggs and sugar until well blended/Add vanilla/ While stirring, slowly add chocolate and mix thoroughly/ Stir in dry ingredients/ Add 1/2 C or more of chopped nuts if desired/ A 13″ x 9″ x 2″ pan is ideal, but anything close to that will work. I used a larger pan while on vacation and the brownies were a little flatter than usual, but fine/ Butter and lightly flour pan, bake in a 350º oven for 25 – 30 minutes.

It’s already August and if you haven’t used your ice cream freezer yet, the time has definitely come. There are very few multi-generational activities that evoke as many summer childhood memories as making and eating ice cream. Those of us who are lucky enough to live in the Seattle area not only have access to all sorts of delicious ingredients for making our own ice cream, there are also several shops where you can buy hand-crafted locally made ice cream (I’ll give you a list at the end of this post). Think balsamic strawberry, Vivace coffee, fennel seed, Olympia marionberry even Estrella Farms “Partly Sunny Blue Cheese” with hazelnuts. With all of these tempting flavors locally available, why make your own? Because it’s fun and that’s what summer is supposed to be all about.

I chose to make Salted Caramel Ice Cream after seeing a recipe on gourmet. com. Granted, it’s a little on the sophisticated side for kids but with a couple of chocolate chips sprinkled on top, Lily was more than happy to be my taster. The complex flavor of this intriguing combo depends on getting the salty-sweet balance just right. Don’t be tempted to add a couple sprinkles of salt on top, this recipe is right-on just the way it is.

The first step is making a “dry” caramel which is basically melted sugar — tricky because it is super-hot and reportedly hard to control. If you pay attention during this fairly fast process and don’t try to multi-task, it’s surprisingly easy and gorgeous to look at. My custard, on the other hand, turned into sweet scrambled eggs on my first go-round. I now think that was because I was using raw milk (from Dungeness Valley Creamery). I’ve since noticed that raw milk tends to thicken faster, even when heating it for my tea. I can’t find any evidence to document this as a problem in general when cooking with raw milk. It certainly tastes great but I had to toss my first batch of custard. Second time around, I added the hot milk to the eggs VERY slowly and had much better results.

Salted Caramel Ice Cream Recipe

1 1/4 cups sugar, divided

2 1/4 cups heavy cream, divided

1/2 t flaky sea salt

1/2 t vanilla extract

1 cup whole milk

3 large eggs

Heat 1 cup sugar in dry, large heavy skillet (using a light color skillet allows you to see the color of the caramel more easily) over medium heat, stirring with a fork to heat sugar evenly, until sugar starts to melt. Once it’s melting, stop stirring, pick up the pot (using pot holders, of course) and swirl it around so the sugar melts evenly. It’s done when all the sugar is melted and it’s a dark amber color.

Add 1 1/4 cups cream and cook, stirring until all the caramel is dissolved. When you first add the cream, the caramel may initially become a big lump. Don’t worry, just keep stirring and it will eventually dissolve. Remove from the heat, transfer to a bowl, add sea salt and vanilla and let cool to room temperature.

Bring milk, remaining cup cream and remaining 1/4 cup sugar just to a boil in a small heavy saucepan, stirring occasionally.

Lightly whisk eggs in a medium bowl, then add half of the hot milk mixture in a very slow stream, whisking constantly. Slowly pour this mixture back into the saucepan with the remaining milk over medium heat. Stir constantly with a wooden spoon until it thickens and coats the back of the spoon. Pour custard through a fine-mesh sieve into a large bowl. Stir in cooled caramel.

Chill custard several hours (3-6), stirring occasionally, until very cold.

Freeze with ice cream freezer following the freezer directions. Once it’s frozen, transfer to an airtight container and store in the freezer to firm up. It will keep about 1 week.

List of Hand-Crafted Ice Cream in the Seattle Area

Molly Moon’s Homemade Ice Cream – Molly has shops in Wallingford and Capitol Hill. Every time I’ve driven by the Wallingford shop there’s a line out the door so it must be really good. They “combine creamy dairy from happy, healthy, hormone-free Western Washington cows with sweet and savory ingredients” and “focus on seasonal fruits and herbs.”

Poco Carretto Gelato is a “mobile gelato cart that offers up to 10 delicious gelato and 6 sorbetto flavors using local and organic ingredients made by Chef Holly Smith of the award winning restaurant, Cafe Juanita.” They sell at several farmers markets and cater private events.

Bluebird Homemade Ice Cream and Tea Room This neighborhood cafe and ice creamery on Capitol Hill is focused on bringing people together. Their ingredients are “almost entirely local, organic whenever possible.”

Empire Ice Cream Once again, local and organic rules. You can find them at the Ballard Sunday Farmers Market, the University District Farmers Market, Eat Local and the Paragon Restaurant & Bar.

Half Pint Ice Cream ” A small, owner-operated homemade ice cream company.” Their “ice creams are made fresh weekly with local dairy and eggs and other local ingredients when possible.” They sell at several farmers markets in our area.

I hope I haven’t left any one out. I know there are others not that far from home because every time I go to Orcas Island I pick up at least one flavor of Lopez Island Creamery Gourmet Ice Cream. Yum!