It’s not that I don’t have enough work from and in the garden already. Every week now, another fruit or vegetable needs to be harvested and processed. And yet, after visiting The Lavender Farmette, a local lavender farm, I just had to make some treats with lavender: Lavender Meringues, a favorite of ours and a great way to use up leftover egg whites. And, for the first time, Lavender Ice-Cream based on my standard ice-cream recipe. Continue reading
In the fall of 2008 my husband cleared our woods along the road, cutting out dead trees and brambles. The next spring, I spotted little shoots that looked like peonies. As they grew taller, I was sure they were peonies, though rather spindly and thin but oodles of them, at least a couple of hundreds, and in an almost straight line. That could not be possible! This has always been farmland, the area along the road had never been cultivated. Besides, peonies are imports from Asia, and they don’t just spread massively through seeds.
I contacted Doris Cross, a peony expert who is active in the Heritage Peony Garden and annual Peony Fest at the Museum at the Shacksboro Schoolhouse in Baldwinsville, New York. She suggested I look for an old foundation, saying that she dug peonies from underneath trees that had grown up around them for 60 years, and that peonies easily grow for a hundred years in one spot without a problem, “so think long range.” I did not poke around for a foundation because my husband was absolutely sure that there had ever been a dwelling. However I started digging out the peonies before they were overgrown again. First I tried with a few to see how they would do up on the windy hill by our house. I took a chance transplanting them in the spring instead of the fall and they made it.
After the trial transplants were established and one of them bloomed last spring – a beautiful, faint rose-color with a creamy yellow center and pink accents – I felt emboldened to undertake a large-scale rescue mission and dug out as many peonies as I could. Again I defied the rules of gardening. I did not have time the previous fall but I also did not want to delay the move any longer. It was tough work getting the peonies out of the ground, the soil being the texture of a thickly woven fabric, and I had to cut through surface tree roots. I planted as many peonies as I could around the house and gave several buckets full to friends.
The answer to the peony mystery came by chance through an aerial photo that my husband and I bought at the door (first time I ever did something like this, I still find it a bit embarrassing to admit but it is a nice shot). When we hung it up next to the old aerial picture from almost 30 years ago, I had a closer look. The area where I found the peonies was the only stretch free of any trees in the otherwise wooded area along the road.
Then the pieces of the puzzle started to come together. The area across the street from us, a few hundred yards away from the old Pennsylvania Dutch homestead, used to be a picnic area, long before the road was carved and paved. The peonies were planted so that the families had a nice view up the hill during their Sunday gatherings after church. Whoever did this must have had a real passion for gardening. Just as Doris Cross had written to me, peonies “were the house wife’s garden along the road”. Yet this was peonies en masse, maybe acquired by channeling away some of the household money over time, or cheaply bought wholesale, or bartered.
The peonies by the house are thriving and I am thrilled to see many of them blooming for the first time. There are a few more peonies to be rescued in the woods, to which I will get this fall.
Meanwhile I found out that peony flowers are edible. Of course I had to find a way to celebrate those resurfaced treasures by incorporating them into our Sunday cake.
Yogurt Mousse Cake
2 large eggs, separated
2 tablespoons warm water
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
¾ cup cake flour
Pinch of salt
2 cups heavy cream
1/3 cup cold water
2 scant tablespoons unflavored gelatin
2 cups Greek yogurt (0%)
1/4 cup lemon juice
1 cup sugar
1. For the sponge base, preheat the oven to 400 degrees F. Place a large piece of parchment paper over the bottom of a 9-inch springform pan. Make sure it is taught, then clip on the rim and cut off the excess parchment paper. Grease the sides.
2. Beat the egg yolks with the warm water and the sugar until light colored and creamy. Add the vanilla extract.
3. Sift the cake flour over the mixture and fold in thoroughly until no lumps remain.
4. Beat the egg whites with a pinch of salt until they stand in stiff peaks. Fold into the dough. Pour into the prepared pan and even the dough out with a spatula or a large knife. Bake in the preheated oven for 15 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Let cool for a few minutes, then take the sponge cake out of the pan and carefully peel off parchment. Let cool on a cake rack.
5. For the filling, whip the cream until stiff. Refrigerate.
6. Put the water in a small heatproof bowl and sprinkle the gelatin over it. Set aside.
7. With an electric mixer beat the yogurt with the lemon juice and sugar until the sugar is fully dissolved.
8. Bring water to a bowl in small saucepan. Lower the bowl with the gelatin into the water, making sure no boiling water spills into it. Stir until the gelatin is liquid and fully dissolved. Remove the bowl with the gelatin with kitchen tongs.
9. Immediately add 1 tablespoon of the yogurt mix and stir until completely incorporated. Add 4 to 5 more tablespoons the same way until the gelatin mix is cooled. It should be smooth and not contain any lumps. Dump the gelatin into the yogurt mix and beat with an electric mixer until well blended.
10. Fold the whipped cream into the yogurt mix until well blended. You may also give it a quick whisk with an electric mixer to blend the two, as long as you don’t overmix.
11. Place the sponge cake back into the springform pan and grease the sides. If the sponge has shrunk during baking, push it down gently so it completely fills the pan. Pour the filling into the pan and even it out with a knife or a spatula. Cover with a cake dome (no plastic wrap, it will cling and mess up the surface) and refrigerate until set, at least 4 yours. Run a large knife dipped in cold water all around the filling to loosen, then carefully remove the rim. Decorate with edible flowers or fresh fruit.
When we drove up north to the Hudson Valley yesterday, the edge of the woods along the highway was lined with shrubs that looked like elderberries in full bloom. I could barely sit still in my seat. Last spring was the first time I took a few handfuls of elderflowers from my plants to make elderflower jelly. It is delicious but I am not sure I will dare to do that again, as the yield of those shrubs is so modest to begin with.
Here were enough elderflowers to try all the elderflower recipes in the world, and then some! Once we reached our destination, I quickly excused myself and, equipped with a plastic bag and a knife, strolled into the meadows behind the house. I did not have to walk far before I found a big elderberry bush in full bloom.
On the way home, I started to wonder. The leaves looked slightly different from the cultivated elderberries I have in the garden… I’d better do some research before processing my botanical booty.
Of all the areas of gardening, I find plant identification with plant identification keys the hardest, and I usually take the easiest way out by just comparing photos. Yet this time I had to dig a bit deeper. I was glad I brought home a twig with a full set of leaves, in addition to the flowers.
I needed to make sure it was American Elderberry (Sambucus canadensis) and not Red Elderberry (Sambucus racemosa), which is unfit for consumption and whose berries are toxic. The flowers and fully ripened berries of the American Elderberry are edible (its other parts are indeed poisonous). From the USDA database and other reliable sources I learned that the smell of crushed red elderberry leaves is strong and unpleasant, the twigs are pithy with raised pores, and the flowers are conical, pyramidal clusters. What I had picked was American Elderberry. Also, it reassured me that on local Hudson Valley websites and blogs people were raving about the abundance of wild American Elderberry in the area.
So I was safe and happily went to work, making a large batch of elderberry syrup and elderberry vinegar. The rest of the elderflowers are drying on a tray lined with paper towels to make herbal tea against cold and fever.
Some recipes require soaking the flowers in salt water, I suppose to get rid of any insects. Although this removes some of the pollen, for vinegar this makes sense to me because unlike syrup and jelly, it is not boiled afterwards.
1 tablespoon salt
1½ cups packed elderflower blossoms, all stems and leaves removed
3 cups (750 ml) white vinegar
¼ cup plus 2 tablespoons (75 g) sugar
¾ cup (190 ml) white wine
1. Fill a large bowl with cold tap water. Holding each umbel by the stem, gently move it around in the water. Exchange the water as necessary.
2. When the water is clear, add the salt to the water and stir to dilute. The blossoms should be fully immersed. Set aside.
3. Bring the vinegar, sugar and wine to a boil and stir until the sugar is fully dissolved.
4. Drain the elderflowers and pat dry with paper towels. Place in a 1-quart sterilized jar with a lid and pour the hot vinegar mix over it. Cover and let sit in a dark place at moderate room temperature for 2 weeks. Strain twice through a sieve lined with several layers of cheesecloth. Fill in sterilized bottles.
Makes 1 quart/1 liter
Photo by Ted Rosen
The best I could do which chive blossoms in the past, was stick them in a vase. I am an admitted late bloomer when it comes to learning about edible flowers. This year I am at last discovering all the wonderful things you can do with them. I wish I had more chive blossoms right now.
The first bloom of the chives yielded just enough blossoms to make a tiny amount of chive vinegar. I absolutely do not like the taste, smell and especially aftertaste of raw onions. Letting a chopped shallot sit in vinaigrette for a mere hint of onion flavor, and strain it afterwards is my tolerance limit for raw onions. So I thought chive vinegar would be a good way to get the onion flavor without the onions.
Asparagus is one of the crops I do not grow in my garden because I can buy it super fresh from local farm stands. The asparagus was supposed to be for dinner tonight. Yet before I had even washed the dishes my husband and I had nibbled most of it for lunch before heading back to our offices.
No doubt, I will have to plant more chives for the blossoms alone, so I can make more of that vinegar.
Asparagus with Sauce Tartare
The formula for the vinegar is simple: Put freshly picked untreated chive blossoms, washed and drained, in a screw-top jar. Add apple cider vinegar, enough to immerse the blossoms. Cover and let sit at moderate room temperature, away from direct sunlight, for 5 to 7 days until the blossoms are completely discolored. Shake the jar once or twice a day. Strain and discard blossoms.
The Sauce Tartare is adapted from Julia Child’s Mastering the Art of French Cooking.
1 pound green asparagus
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3 large hard-boiled eggs
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
¼ teaspoon salt, more to taste
2/3 cup olive oil
1 tablespoon chive vinegar
2 tablespoons capers, drained
3 tablespoons finely chopped chives
Freshly milled black pepper
1. Wash the asparagus and trim the ends.
2. Bring water to a boil in a large deep skillet. Add the lemon juice and cook the asparagus uncovered at low to medium heat until it can be pierced with a kitchen knife. Drain, rinse with cold water, and drain again. Set aside.
3. For the Sauce Tartare, separate the yolks from the eggs, leaving the whites as intact as possible. Finely chop the egg whites and set aside. Mash the yolks with the mustard and the salt until no lumps remain.
4. Gradually add the olive oil and whisk thoroughly by hand until you obtain a thick smooth emulsion. Add the vinegar and whisk until fully incorporated.
5. Finely chop the capers and add them to the sauce with the chives. Season with salt and pepper. Spoon some of the sauce over the asparagus, and sprinkle with chopped egg whites.
Makes 2 servings
Lilacs, I was told a few years ago in gardening class, have so little wildlife value they might as well be made of plastic. Since I love lilacs, especially the Dwarf Korean lilac with its knockout scent, this was bad news. Ever since, I have eyed the lilacs around our house with a mix of doubt – whenever I spot bees swarming around a lilac bush, I am telling myself it cannot be that bad – and a bit of guilt, because every year I transplant lilac shoots and rejoice about them taking off so easily and growing fast with so little maintenance.
To put my scruples to rest, I am telling myself that we encourage a lot of wildlife on our property by providing shelter, food and a pesticide-free and insecticide-free environment. So the dozen or so lilac bushes really don’t matter.
Earlier this week, my favorite magazine arrived in the mail from Germany: Landlust, a stunningly beautiful yet very hands-on magazine about rural living, which The Economist described very aptly in a June 2011 article as the Germans’ “nostalgie de la boue”.
The latest issue had a recipe for lilac-infused ice-cream in it. I had no idea lilac blossoms were edible. After a bit of poking around on the Internet to make sure that lilac blossoms are indeed edible (not that I don’t trust the magazine editors) I decided to concoct my own recipe, a modification of the Honey Parfait from my cookbook Spoonfuls of Germany. I felt the airy consistency of parfait, which is made without an ice-cream maker, is a better match for the ethereal lilac aroma than a heavy, custard-based ice cream.
Now that I am on an edible flower roll, lilac syrup is next. The blossoms are steeping as I write this. It should be ready in about five days.
Lilac Honey Parfait
1 cup freshly picked lilac blossoms
1 cup heavy cream
3 large, very fresh eggs, separated
½ cup golden honey
Pinch of salt
1. Wash the lilac blossoms in cold water to remove any dust and insects. Drain in a colander and shake to remove excess water. Spread on a piece of paper towel, gather the edges and gently shake to dry even more. Place blossoms in a small bowl. Pour the heavy cream over the blossoms and push them down so they are fully immersed in the cream. Cover with plastic foil and refrigerate for 24 hours.
2. Strain the cream through a fine sieve. Push down the blossoms so extract as much cream from the blossoms as possible. Set the blossoms aside. Whip until if forms soft peaks. Refrigerate.
3. Beat the eggs whites with a pinch of salt until stiff. Refrigerate.
4. Put the egg yolks and the honey in a double boiler or a metal bowl place over a pot of gently boiling water. Whisk until the mix becomes thick and very foamy. At the end, add the blossoms and stir for another 1 to 2 minutes. Strain through the sieve and again squeeze down on the blossoms until no more liquid comes out.
5. Place the bowl over a bowl of ice water and continue stirring until cooled.
6. Fold the cream and the egg whites into the egg yolk mix. Pour the parfait in a pre-chilled container and freeze for at least 4 hours, or until firm.
Makes 6 servings