Recipe: Blueberry Spice Crumble

Blueberries!

Memorial Day and blueberries, two welcome harbingers of summer, coincided for us last weekend. We  took a drive north on the 101 past Gaviota to Santa Barbara Blueberries, where the Little One and I had our first experience of picking fresh, truly ripe blueberries. (My husband also went, but he picked blueberries as a child himself.)
Honestly, it was a revelation. I somehow had not experienced fresh blueberries until I was an adult, associating them with the shriveled, syrupy things that come in cans with muffin mix. I was surprised then at how tangy and very sweet they can be, with such a pleasing toothsome texture. Last weekend surprise rose to the next level, and I was practically dumbfounded by the food euphoria of fresh-picked, warm-from-the-sun, plinking-in-your-bucket, dripping-off-the-bush blueberry goodness. Some of the berries we picked were as big around as quarters, and we popped them in our mouths like candy. Little One couldn't stand a minute without berries in both fists.

Did everyone else already know about this, and it was just me who was oblivious?

What I know now is, this was a first but will certainly become a much-anticipated yearly tradition. At $17 for a 2.5 pound bucket it seems a bit pricey, but for these berries (plus all we ate in the field) it was well worth it. Not to mention the sunshine, the oak trees, the other children and parents ducking among the rows, and memories of the children's book Blueberries for Sal. My daughter took to it right away -- the first of many learning adventures for her about where food comes from. I could not have asked for a better opening to what is sure to be a fine summer.

So, on to the recipe. We've been snacking on fresh berries at almost every meal. I also squirreled some into some cornbread muffins. But what I've been longing for is warm blueberry crumble, and tonight I made it. The topping is one my mother has made for decades, whose origin is unknown to me, and the filling is heavily influenced by the Spiced Blueberry Pie recipe in The Sunset Cookbook. Black pepper and cloves? Yes please, all the better when I pair it with some Ethan Grenache I've been saving.

BLUEBERRY SPICE CRUMBLE 

Preheat oven to 350° and butter an 8" x 8" baking dish.

For the fruit, stir together:

• 6 c. of fresh blueberries
• 1/4 c. each flour, granulated white sugar, and light brown sugar
• 1 tsp. each salt and cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp. each black pepper, nutmeg, and cloves

For the crumble topping, mix together with pastry blender until crumbly:

• 1 c. (2 cubes) softened unsalted butter
• 1 c. sugar
• 2 1/4 c. flour
• Dash of salt

Pour the fruit into the baking dish, and spread the topping evenly over it. Bake 45 minutes at 350°. (If your dish is anywhere near overflowing, you might put an old baking sheet below it in the over to catch any drips.)

To satisfy my summery craving, I served mine with candied lemon slices, which are approximately the easiest thing in the world to make.


CANDIED LEMON

Stir together one cup of sugar and one cup of water in a heavy saucepan and bring to boil. Add one or two thinly sliced lemons. Lower heat, cover and simmer for about half an hour. (Bonus: after removing the lemon, we saved the remaining syrup for some homemade soda!)

Enjoy, happy summer time to you, and thanks for reading.

Kale Chips to the Rescue!

As I mentioned last time, I have a pretty limited repertoire when it comes to cooking greens. I had never even heard of kale until I joined a CSA about four years ago. As I was picking up my box, wondering what in the world to do with it all, I overheard some other members talking about kale chips.

Kale chips? That either sounds very weird to you, or, you've been eating them for years. I've come to believe they are a regular standby for a lot of CSA members. Making chips reduces a large, unwieldy bunch of kale into a pile of delectable snacks that is easily consumable, for better or worse, in one sitting.

You'll find a variety of recipes online for kale chips, ranging from cooking them really hot for 15 minutes, to baking at a low temperature for over an hour and a half. I tried a middle-of-the-road recipes with my kale this week, and I think I got some middle-of-the-road results:

1 bunch dinosaur kale, stemmed and cut into pieces
1 T olive oil
Splash of apple cider vinegar
A few twists if salt from a grinder
Turn oven to 250. Toss all the ingredients in a bowl, and spread the kale thinly over two baking sheets. Bake for 30 minutes or until they're crispy but not burnt!

Mine got a little more done than they should have - I think I'll try a slower approach next time - but they are crispy and addicting nonetheless!

Do you have favorite recipes or ways to eat kale or other greens? I'd love to hear them.

Preserving Summer, Making the Good Stuff Last

I've been on quite the hiatus around here, but it's been in the cause of some very Good Stuff: a new native Californian, my baby girl. So it happened that soon after starting this blog I had to give up wine for a while. However, I've taken the opportunity to enjoy bounty of a non-alcoholic kind, cooking and eating lots of fresh produce. It turns out cooking for a baby is not that hard, and actually inspires me to eat more fresh, simple fruits and vegetables. It also keeps me motivated to use organic produce as much as I can, despite the expense. But more on those topics another day.

            Today, I am savoring the last slow, warm weeks of summer. And for this first time, this year I am trying my hand at some simple preserving, to make the bounty last for months to come.

            My first attempt, a true baby step, was in the spring. I have a peach tree and apricot trees in my yard -- they were here when we moved in to the house, and each year since then I have struggled to make the most of the abundance of fruit, baking cobblers and making ice cream and eating them right off the tree, spreading the gospel of real ripe, honey-flavored apricots (a completely different animal than the tart ones you find in a store), and giving away bag fulls  to anyone who would take them. In the end I always end up with a mess of rotten, sad fruit. All that goodness gone to waste. So, as the peach and apricot season seemed to be trailing off, and no one would accept another bag of almost-overripe fruit, I decided this year I would not fail. I sliced up the fruit (peeling the peaches first) and simply put them in freezer bags, about a cobbler's worth in each, and laid them flat in my little freezer. I'm looking forward to a fragrant, warm peach cobbler in October.

Just add sugar, spices, and a crust.

            Well, that worked pretty well. What else could I preserve? I enlisted my mother's help, and we transformed half a flat of strawberries from the farmer's market into beautiful ruby-red freezer jam. It's really a simple process, no hot water baths or special tools, but I was still a bit daunted -- I used the same recipe my mother and grandmother used, and I remember them sometimes getting runny batches. Perhaps I had beginners luck (or was it those magical strawberries?), because this jam is perfection. The fruit isn't cooked, so the flavor is intensely fresh and sweet. It's like sugary red sunshine. The only problem may be making it last until next summer.

Sunshine in a jar

            Making jam was a big step -- almost like "real" canning -- but also a comfortable one, since my mother has made it almost every year since I was a child. Next it was time to step into uncharted territory.

            In my wild domestic ambition, I planted tomatoes this year -- another first for me. I love a good little cherry tomato, sun-warmed and candy-sweet right off the vine, and I wanted to try my hand. But, I should have remembered the lesson of the peach tree: eating a few tomatoes now and again didn't prepare me for the onslaught my plant is throwing at me! Again I gave some away, but as the tomatoes piled up on my counter, I knew I had to do something.

            I turned to my most trusty cookbook, Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone. The recipes are wonderful, ranging from plain (What is this vegetable and what do I do with it?) to fancy (her apple galette with candied lemon slices is wonderful for Thanksgiving dessert). Best of all, though, is her encouraging commentary throughout the book -- personable and wise.

            Pasta sauce seemed like a workable way to use up a lot of tomatoes, although I've never made it before and wasn't sure how well it would freeze. Lo and behold, her margin comments included her tip for freezing tomato sauce: in freezer bags, portioned to meal-sized amounts, laid flat on the freezer floor. Just like my peaches. I felt I had made a connection with my hero chef, and achieved a new level in this quest to understand and enjoy good food. I will count this summer a success.

First attempt at pasta sauce from scratch

            I seeded and quartered the tomatoes, snipped in some fresh basil leaves, put a lid on and simmered it for about 10 minutes. Then I added some salt and pepper and some California olive oil, used an immersion blender to puree it, and I had made my first tomato sauce, adapted from Madison's "Fresh Tomato Sauce" recipe.

            To the portion I set aside for that night's dinner, I stirred in some pressed garlic and and freshly grated parmesan. I spooned it over tender pasta, topped it with broiled, peppered chicken. And then -- I ate it.

            And it was good.