This week's share included the following delectables, appearing clockwise below:
- Oregano and lemon balm
- Broccoli rabe (otherwise known as rapini -- and NOT a form of broccoli)
- Hakurei turnips
- Napa cabbage the size of me
- Southern curled mustard greens
- Mizuna
- D'Avignon radishes
Now, what to do, what to do. Time this week is especially limited, and the farm is making next week's delivery a day early in order to celebrate the Jr's high school graduation. So, I knew I needed to call on the creativity deep within. I poured myself a dark and stormy.
The broccoli rabe, mizuna and mustard greens each can be prepared according to my standard formula: olive oil, garlic, crushed red pepper, salt. [By the way? Broccoli rabe? Not related to broccoli. Actually closer to the turnip, of all things.] I so enjoyed last week's radishes steamed and tossed in lemon balm ... so that takes care of that. Cabbage is a meal in itself, especially when stir-fried in the electric wok (seriously people: life is better with an electric wok), and then the turnips can complement whichever meal follows the radishes. But how on god's green earth will I fit all of this in for the few days I am able to cook?
Time to get busy.
Tonight's kitchen quickly became a whirlwind. I first turned to the fact that I had four different greens for what likely would amount to two or three cooked meals. Can't do that. Luckily, I also lamented the end of my sorrel quiche. Would mizuna turn out as well? Only one way to find out ....
Mizuna is one of those greens I had never heard of, let alone touched or tasted, prior to participating in a CSA. Mizuna is otherwise known as Japanese mustard -- with pointy leaves, it has a sharper taste than most greens but not so peppery as arugula. I have noticed a wider discrepancy between stem and leaf thickness -- this is important when cooking to ensure you have cooked everything evenly. The stems should be cut very small, while the leaves cut in larger pieces. Mizuna is also, in my opinion, very pretty.
So, first things first. I put together a quiche along the lines of Sorrel Not Squirrel (this time with an extra egg and pinch of cayenne), and it bakes now even as I type. Breakfast! Ooo la la!! Once that was in the oven, I set about to scrubbing the radishes, cleaning the broccoli rabe in another several changes of water, chopping garlic and lemon balm, and prepping the trout. Yes, trout.
You people out there who think cooking is just so hard, so time-consuming -- you must understand that fish filets cook with the least amount of effort and in no time flat. So long as you buy decent fish (I head either to the fish market in my neighborhood or one of a zillion Whole Foods in a three-mile radius and ask for what is fresh), have salt and pepper handy, maybe another favorite seasoning or two (paprika!), then you can eat healthy, delicious fish with minimal effort and pat yourself on the back. Sprinkle with what you have to sprinkle, broil or slap in a pan with a tiny bit of olive oil, and voila, moments later, delicious, healthy fish.
Tonight, however, I grabbed the cast iron, the cornmeal, and the canola oil. I had a hard day. Time to fry.
Here was my order of business, once the quiche was in the oven. First, get the radishes sliced and on to steam. Next, heat the canola in the cast iron (just enough to cover the bottom -- nothing too nuts), rinse and pat dry the fish, then sprinkle with salt, pepper, and Old Bay. Coat the fish in cornmeal (I do this using a plate) and set each filet gingerly into the hot oil (medium to medium high flame). With the fish bubbling away, heat my olive oil in an Al-Clad, add the garlic and a few crushed red pepper flakes, then the broccoli rabe and a dash of salt. Turn, turn, turn to coat, and cover. Medium, low-ish flame. By now, my radishes were soft. Chop up my lemon balm, heat olive oil and a SMALL dab of butter in another Al-Clad, add the radishes, a bit of dill (I cheated: I have freeze-dried fresh chopped dill in the fridge, which is a godsend in moments such as these), and the lemon balm, toss about with minimal splashing. Uncover the broccoli rabe --yay, almost done! -- and turn down the flame after another turn turn turn with the tongs. Flip the fish. At this point, I stepped back and realized there is a hell of a lot happening on this stove.
And a quiche in the oven to boot!
In the end, the effort was well worth it. And, truly, the effort was minimal, despite the knowledge that I have a cast iron pan to deal with (tips welcome here). The only downside to such delicious food is that the preparation takes longer than the consumption, because let me tell you what, this did not last for long (and neither did the dark and stormy) ...
The broccoli rabe, mizuna and mustard greens each can be prepared according to my standard formula: olive oil, garlic, crushed red pepper, salt. [By the way? Broccoli rabe? Not related to broccoli. Actually closer to the turnip, of all things.] I so enjoyed last week's radishes steamed and tossed in lemon balm ... so that takes care of that. Cabbage is a meal in itself, especially when stir-fried in the electric wok (seriously people: life is better with an electric wok), and then the turnips can complement whichever meal follows the radishes. But how on god's green earth will I fit all of this in for the few days I am able to cook?
Time to get busy.
Tonight's kitchen quickly became a whirlwind. I first turned to the fact that I had four different greens for what likely would amount to two or three cooked meals. Can't do that. Luckily, I also lamented the end of my sorrel quiche. Would mizuna turn out as well? Only one way to find out ....
Mizuna is one of those greens I had never heard of, let alone touched or tasted, prior to participating in a CSA. Mizuna is otherwise known as Japanese mustard -- with pointy leaves, it has a sharper taste than most greens but not so peppery as arugula. I have noticed a wider discrepancy between stem and leaf thickness -- this is important when cooking to ensure you have cooked everything evenly. The stems should be cut very small, while the leaves cut in larger pieces. Mizuna is also, in my opinion, very pretty.
So, first things first. I put together a quiche along the lines of Sorrel Not Squirrel (this time with an extra egg and pinch of cayenne), and it bakes now even as I type. Breakfast! Ooo la la!! Once that was in the oven, I set about to scrubbing the radishes, cleaning the broccoli rabe in another several changes of water, chopping garlic and lemon balm, and prepping the trout. Yes, trout.
You people out there who think cooking is just so hard, so time-consuming -- you must understand that fish filets cook with the least amount of effort and in no time flat. So long as you buy decent fish (I head either to the fish market in my neighborhood or one of a zillion Whole Foods in a three-mile radius and ask for what is fresh), have salt and pepper handy, maybe another favorite seasoning or two (paprika!), then you can eat healthy, delicious fish with minimal effort and pat yourself on the back. Sprinkle with what you have to sprinkle, broil or slap in a pan with a tiny bit of olive oil, and voila, moments later, delicious, healthy fish.
Tonight, however, I grabbed the cast iron, the cornmeal, and the canola oil. I had a hard day. Time to fry.
Here was my order of business, once the quiche was in the oven. First, get the radishes sliced and on to steam. Next, heat the canola in the cast iron (just enough to cover the bottom -- nothing too nuts), rinse and pat dry the fish, then sprinkle with salt, pepper, and Old Bay. Coat the fish in cornmeal (I do this using a plate) and set each filet gingerly into the hot oil (medium to medium high flame). With the fish bubbling away, heat my olive oil in an Al-Clad, add the garlic and a few crushed red pepper flakes, then the broccoli rabe and a dash of salt. Turn, turn, turn to coat, and cover. Medium, low-ish flame. By now, my radishes were soft. Chop up my lemon balm, heat olive oil and a SMALL dab of butter in another Al-Clad, add the radishes, a bit of dill (I cheated: I have freeze-dried fresh chopped dill in the fridge, which is a godsend in moments such as these), and the lemon balm, toss about with minimal splashing. Uncover the broccoli rabe --yay, almost done! -- and turn down the flame after another turn turn turn with the tongs. Flip the fish. At this point, I stepped back and realized there is a hell of a lot happening on this stove.
And a quiche in the oven to boot!
In the end, the effort was well worth it. And, truly, the effort was minimal, despite the knowledge that I have a cast iron pan to deal with (tips welcome here). The only downside to such delicious food is that the preparation takes longer than the consumption, because let me tell you what, this did not last for long (and neither did the dark and stormy) ...
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