Kale. Again.

(Just so you know, the header sizing issue is about to drive me crazy. But, anyway....)

This one's for all you kale lovers/haters out there.

To sum it up, I found a great new way to tame the stuff. It's about fifty time easier than blanching, and it doesn't even involve my neighbor's iguana!

Interested??? Well check it out:

My CSA pick-up day is Thursday. A few weeks ago, I left for a ten day vacation on a Friday. Needless to say, I was in a mad rush to do something with the ten thousand vegetables sitting on my kitchen table. I gave a messload to my friend Laura, another messload to my friend Betsy, and I did my best to preserve the rest.

Somewhere along the line, I'd heard that you could freeze kale as is. It wouldn't last as long in the freezer as blanched kale, but you could get a good three or four months out of it. Well, I went for it, and it worked like a charm.

I'm not sure how previously frozen kale would work in a cooked dish, but it was just fine in this morning's smoothie. And by just fine, I mean I couldn't taste it.

Here's what I put in my smoothie this morning:

CSA kale, pick-your-own blueberries and strawberries, half of a frozen banana, some almond milk, and a scoop of chia seeds and cacao nibs:

I wish the cacao nibs were fancy chocolate chips, but they're totally not. They're unprocessed cacao beans and then taste one zillion times worse than baking chocolate. But they're good for your brain? I think? Anti-oxidants? I don't know. But I hope they're good for something--since they taste like ass.

As far as the chia seeds go, well, my raw foodist friend taught me about them. They're super high in omega-3s, they're hydrative, and they're good for your joints--something like that.

The good news is, my green smoothies never look green. They only act like they're green. Even my five-year-old son drinks 'em down without a fight: 

Now go toss your kale in a freezer bag. You'll thank me in the winter.

Local Loves

July 22, 2010

I've got to say, that the absolute best part of eating local has been meeting all kinds of new people who live just down the street. Sure I love the CSA girls over at Long Meadow Farm, but how about the granola makers and the honey producers of Maine? Believe me when I tell you that I love them, too.

And you know what? They deserve some serious pluggage, so here goes...

Have you tried Grandy Oats Granola? It's 100% organic, it's made in Brownfield, the owner is an absolute love who is insanely passionate about organic oats, and it tastes fantastical. As if that's not enough of a sell, Grandy Oats Granola is priced almost identically to Bare Naked, their primary non-organic competitor. You can buy it at Whole Foods, Hannaford, Health Food Stores, and straight from the website. Its calories come from organic nuts and organic dried fruit--not all kinds of added fat and sugar. And--this is a good one--the granola comes in a reusable BPA free container. Seriously, now that I've discovered Grandy Oats, I'll never buy tupperware again.

Another product I'm completely loving on right now is Root Cellar Preserves. While they're not local to Maine, they're local to New England via Massachusetts, and that's good enough for me. I bought a jar of their zesty sweet pickles at Whole Foods last week, and let me tell you, I'm now a certified pickle snob. I scoff at Vlassic and the lowly peasants who enjoy them. Ha ha (that was me scoffing).

And as an added perk, fifty percent (FIFTY PERCENT!) of their profits go toward the restoration of antique New England homesteads. We're New Englanders! Souless subdivisions can kiss our patriot asses! We like old stuff! Now go buy pickles to help save it all!

And then, there's the place that's so close to my heart it might as well just open up my chest cavity and crawl inside--Wildmirth Farm. Wildmirth is owned and operated by my new friend Monika, and this woman, far and away produces the most beautiful honey you'll ever have the privilege of tasting. Aside from that, she's generous and sweet and kind. She basically flits around Central Maine, gifting friends and strangers with hugs, and recycled jars of her complete amazingness. She's like a honey missionary.

This past week, she came to my house and left those two jars behind. One was for my family, and the other was for a sweet little friend who's working like heck to get his good health back. After all, he's three, the has a lot of things on his to do list--climbing, sliding, running around naked. He's my kind of kid.

Monika charges $7 a jar, but she strongly prefers a good old-fashioned barter. In exchange for my next jar of honey I plan to gift her with the joy of my children for an entire weekend while I jet off for a mini-vacation. I love bartering.

If you're interested in Monika's honey, let me know and I'll put you two in touch.

And finally, this week, my sister-in-law and I loaded up the car for a day-trip and took the kids up to Steep Hill Farm for some blueberry picking. Between the toots, the screaming, and the cousin-fighting, we sucked the peace right out of that place. But now that we've gone, and you can rest assured we won't ruin your experience, you should absolutely go.

Don't miss my post from earlier today. It's all about foods that should get busy more often.

Picked Our Own Strawberries

June 19, 2010

You've probably noticed that CSAs are more about vegetables than they are about fruit. And seriously, how's a girl supposed to make a half decent pie from a bunch of leafy greens and radishes?  Because of reasons like cost, taste, health, and my spotlesssly clean image, I've pretty much bought this 'eat local' thing hook, line, and sinker. So, in our quest for fruit, we decided to keep it close to home and headed out for a morning of strawberry picking at the strawberry farm.

The first strawberry that James picked was absolutely ginormous. See?

He was like, "Mom! This thing is huge! Take my picture while I pretend it's video game controller."

I was like, "James, SHHHHHH. That strawberry is local--you should pretend it's a horse comb, or a classic novel or something, not a video game controller!"

That kid is so ridiculously embarrassing. I wish he'd work a little harder at preserving his mother's reputation.

Here's a picture of the strawberry field:

I posted this picture for two reasons. First, I can't get enough the that guy in the overalls (love him!), and second, that woman on the bottom right is my 88 year old neighbor.

There she is again, motoring along on her hands and knees (she likes to call 'em her prayer handles):

While I was snapping that picture, this guy came up behind me and said, "Why don't you stop taking pictures of your grandmother and help her instead."

I gave him a straight look, and with my most matter-of-fact tone I said, "That's not my grandmother, she's my step sister."

He had no reply. Besides, she doesn't want any help. If she needs help this year, it means she'll need even more help next year, and she's only 88--totally not ready for that.

Here's what we left with:

Grand total? $35.68. They were $1.60 a pound. That night when I went to grocery store I checked the price of strawberries, and get this--$2.99 a pound. They were from Mexico--lovely place for a cruise, not so much for growing my berries.

So, what do you do with a zillionteen strawberries? Well, you let your kid eat so many that he has diarhea at the supermarket, you put a big bowl in the fridge, and you freeze the rest:

That way he'll be able to poop his pants in the middle of the winter, too.