October 26, 2011
Hello, my name is Lauren, and I am a winter squash addict.
It started as a child with pumpkin pie and pumpkin bread, eventually progressing from all things sweet (muffins, pancakes, baked with butter and sugar) to all things savory (curries, chilies, soups and stews) to, um, all things. Just, all of them. Give me winter squash in everything.
Why am I telling you this? Because at the farmer’s market last Saturday I stumbled upon a most wonderful vendor: a farm that offers (miraculously, despite Irene-related damage) ten or fifteen different varieties of squash! And I’m not just talking your standard acorn and butternut — there were squash I’d never seen before, and I was mesmerized.
The best part is that while some of them were compellingly, dangerously huge (as some squash are wont to be), many of them — even those varieties that tend to fall into the first category — were of a managable size, some no bigger than a coconut. Tiny squash! What could be more compelling than that?? Not only are they, ahem, totally adorable, BUT you can try lots of different kinds without winding up buried in an overwhelming poundage of squash.
Having recently gained a new appreciation for taking everything in moderation, I promised myself two small squashes, and no more.
(You already see where this is going.)
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October 16, 2011
I should warn you that I briefly considered titling this an Apple Puree, just because calling this delicious mess “applesauce” felt… well, not quite right, somehow. I mean, that’s what it is — no question about it — but it tastes nothing like the jarred, store-bought apple sauce I was used to eating growing up… or even like some of the home-made applesauces I’ve had at various Thanksgivings and Passovers. Not like any applesauce I have ever had, actually.
But calling it a “puree”, while not inaccurate, seemed both too precious and too exacting: one might wonder what one is to do with an “apple puree” (should I bake with it? mix it with something? schmear it on a plate of fancily-prepared pork and miniature onions?), whereas one does not have to wonder what to do with applesauce.
So let me just re-emphasize: this rosy-hued, tart-sweet taste-explosion below is *not* the jarred applesauce so many of us grew up knowing and (not really) loving.
Speaking of, I’m a little in love right now, actually. I might even be blushing a bit. Can you tell?
[Resist urge to make a pun on blushing and cheeks and apples. Fail.]
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October 4, 2011
A gorgeous rainbow of baby heirloom tomatoes.
We over at the Urban Farm are rolling in them. Drowning in them, just about. No, really. I don’t think you fully understand me. I am telling you we are dealing with an onslaught, a true onslaught of tiny tomatoes, marching so steadily and relentlessly towards ripeness that it is difficult to keep pace with them. It is a problem.
It is, in fact, my very favorite problem of the month.
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