Fleur-de-HolidayGreetings

Feliz Natal
Joyeux Noel
Vrolijke Kerstmis
and a Happy 2011!

Laurie, Marina, and Richard Lynch

Fleur-de-SouloftheFarm

A Fleur-de-Lys First: Brussels Sprouts

Twas the week before Thanksgiving, and all through the farm, I was digging and snipping and packing, then Darn! … (Well, it almost rhymes) … my trusty hard drive started wigging out. Luckily I got it to Jeff the Mac wizard before everything crashed.

With visions of repair bills dancing in my head, I escaped to a daylong class entitled Intensive Training in Organic Vegetable Production. What some people do for fun.

Now I’ve taken enough Penn State Cooperative Extension classes in my day to know that the dirt on my hands and wedged into the soles of my work boots is not dirt, it is soil.  But never did I take a look at my field through a microscope!

We learned about reduced tillage, high soluble salts, and even had a class called Organic Disease Management – Which Fungicides Really Work? (The short answer: None.) Then, we focused on soil quality: things like electrical conductivity, bioassays, aggregate stability, soil compaction, nematodes and micro-arthropods.

For the soil quality session, our class broke into small groups. Within minutes, I broke into a sweat. Back in October, Tianna Dupont, Extension Educator for Sustainable Agriculture, called to say that I had won a soil test for being one of the first farmers to sign up for the course. We’ve taken many soil tests on our farm, checking for pH, nutrient levels, organic matter, so I had no qualms. The day she planned to collect soil samples I was going to be out of town at a conference. I told her to help herself, and promptly forgot about it.

So, we’re in these small groups and Penn State Extension Vegetable Plant Pathologist Beth Gugino is unpacking bean plants she grew out in soil samples -- our soil samples -- to gauge the health of our soil. There was a pot marked FdL.

“Oh my gosh, in front of all these farmers, I’m going to be exposed. Much of the time I don’t know what I’m doing. What dastardly disease am I propagating in my soil, unknowingly? I’m a sham, a charlatan, I can’t believe I was so stupid to even come here.” Yes, sometimes our minds say nasty things to us. Then, luckily, another voice in my good ole brain speaks up.  “Wait a minute. The bean plant in that pot marked FdL looks pretty good. I mean, it’s green. That’s got to be good news. The leaves look healthy. Maybe everything is OK.”

Then Beth tells us what she looks for in a good root system, showing us photos of robust healthy roots vs. wimpy, spindly roots. Beth should know. When she was a graduate student, Beth was a member of The Cornell Soil Health Team, which came up with cost-effective ways to measure the physical, biological and chemical properties of soil health. Tip No. 1, look at your roots.

Beth knocks the side of the FdL pot on the table, easing out the plant grown in FdL soil. The moment of truth: the clump of soil hides all. Then she gently taps the soil off, turning the plant as she goes, coaxing the roots out and revealing … whew, the finest set of healthy roots I ever did see! Just look at those delicate root hairs, the white hypocotyls, and yes, attached to the sides of those gorgeous roots are rhizobium nodules that fix nitrogen.

We rotated to three more stations. FdL soil showed top-of-the-line aggregation, miniscule amounts of soluble salts, and finally, a high population of predatory nematodes – with teeth! Now, this sounds scary until Tianna explains that nematodes are considered beneficial indicator organisms, indicating that the soil is healthy.

Tianna likes to talk about nematodes the way I like to talk about Brussels sprouts. These nematodes, she says, are microscopic roundworms that graze on bacteria and fungi in the soil, major players in the soil food web. Tianna calls them “little soil cows” that eat and excrete. Predatory nematodes gobble up soil-dwelling insect pests. Heck, people actually buy these beneficial creatures to improve their soil! 

After a day of Intensive Training in Organic Vegetable Production, the take-home message was loud and clear: Soil is the soul of a farm. And I thought I was just growing Brussels sprouts. May you give thanks every day of the year.  Laurie Lynch

FdL T-Day in CT: The Fedon Family's Thanksgiving menu was coordinated by my sister Lee Ann and our chef-in-training nephew Wille. It took a pickup truck to transport the Fleur-de-Lys harvest (and a few items for my niece’s May wedding) to Connecticut. Only the made-ahead pies and cranberry sauce were missing a touch of Fleur-de-Lys. We had FdL kale chips, FdL rainbow carrots, FdL celery root in the stuffing, FdL smashed potatoes, FdL roasted sweet potatoes with FdL Jerusalem artichokes, FdL Brussels sprouts, FdL sage on the turkey, FdL parsley, thyme, garlic, and shallots in almost everything, and golden FdL egg yolks in the fresh mint and chocolate chip gelato.

At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market in December: Eggs, shallots, garlic, kale, Jerusalem artichokes, Sayings on Slate, lavender wands, and luffa sponges. This is the month we shake straw on the field to tuck in the garlic for its long winter’s nap.

Written on Slate: It’s like being at the kids’ table at Thanksgiving – you can put your elbows on it, you don’t have to talk politics … no matter how old I get, there’s always a part of me that’s sitting there. – John Hughes

Fleur-de-KaleKaboom

Winterbor Kale with Rainbow Chard

 Call me a garden geek or a vegetable virtuoso or a kitchen kook but I get sooooo excited about experimenting with different types of vegetables and new ways of preparing them.

So pardon me while I go absolutely crazy about this latest kale recipe.

Right now, the stalwart in the Fleur-de-Lys Farm garden is kale. I have three varieties growing – Red Russian, Black Tuscan Kale, and the frilly Winterbor. They’ve been going strong all summer long and really came into their own with the cooler weather.

So what do you do with kale? That’s probably the most-asked question I get from customers.

This isn’t a vegetable I grew up with either.  But years ago, when the “Seeds from Italy” catalog arrived, I ordered seeds of Black Tuscan Kale. Then I tried the recipe for Priest Stranglers (Strozzapreti) with Black Kale, Sage, and Potatoes in Deborah Madison’s “Local Flavors” cookbook. Potatoes with pasta? I thought to myself. Well, let me tell you, I fell in love with it, and the kids did too! You can’t go wrong with butter, sage, and garlic, and a generous amount of Fontina cheese. The name isn't half-bad either -- Strozzapreti refers to the pasta shape, twisted like Gemelli.

Then I expanded my kale offerings to Red Russian and saw it over-winter last year. Amazing. This year, I included the curly-perm-leafed Winterbor.

Besides Strozzapreti, I tell people, kale is a good match with potatoes, can stand alone as a healthy side-dish braised with a little water, or it can dress up a soup. Young leaves can be tossed in a salad. Blah, blah, blah.

Kaboom! I was sitting at booth with a fellow volunteer and we started gabbing about food. One thing led to another, and she gave me her recipe for Kale Chips. When I got home, I grabbed a bunch of Winterbor kale, followed the easy recipe … Kaboom! A star was born.

Kale Chips

Preheat oven to 400°. Strip leaves off stems of a bunch of kale. (Feed stems to the chickens, if you have them, or compost.) Place leaves in a bowl and toss with a splash or two of olive oil, coating well,  and add a sprinkle of salt. Spread out leaves on cookie sheet with edges and bake for 15 minutes. Kale Chips turn dark green-brown and are crisp when done. Serve immediately.

My friend serves Kale Chips with a dip when neighbors drop in. I used them as a bed for chunks of roasted butternut squash – the crispy leaves melt in your mouth and contrast nicely with the smooth texture of squash. To me, Kale Chips are like savory cotton candy with a crunch! Eat well, Laurie Lynch

SOS: Calling all egg cartons! Drop off empties at the shop, please.

Early Thanksgiving: I can’t begin to list all of the people who have shared a smile, a meal, a prayer, a shopping trip … during these last several months. But this past week I injured my knee and superwoman Dina came to the rescue with a beautiful flowered cane for hiking up Hen Hill. She also shared words of wisdom that help me maneuver through this old house. “The good go up to heaven, the bad go down to hell.” She wasn’t giving a sermon on morality – she was telling me the safe way to navigate stairs. When you are climbing up the stairs, you lead with your strong leg and the weak leg joins it. Going down, it’s just the opposite, with the weak leg stepping down and the strong one catching up. And, I can't forget a mega thank you to the guys who chased the lloose llamas back into the pasture.

Early Christmas: I’m looking for a home for a 4’x4’ dwarf banana tree. Go Bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s! Eat local and eat bananas too!

Small World: Meirinha, Richard’s Brasilian Mom, sent a youtube link: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eky88KYlC4Q

to get me dancing … at least mentally (bum knee). She signs her emails “sdbs” which is Portuguese text talk for “surra de beijos” (“a spanking of affection”) and then added a “hee hee”, I’m guessing, in Portuguese: “ihihi.” Love these cultural exchanges. BTW, Andre Rieu, featured in the video with the Brasil Symphony, was born in the Netherlands and studied violin in Liege, Belgium, where Marina lived for a year working as an au pair.

  

Eggstreme Variety: You won’t get eggs that look like these in your local supermarket or factory farm. We love diversity, and so do our hens. Their bloodlines go back to Australia, Belgium, France, Chile, Japan and the good old USA.

Fleur-de-Beaucoup

For Fleur-de-Lys folks, one of the joys of Kutztown and the surrounds is the abundance of art gallery and studio tours showcasing homegrown talent. And this month is no exception.

Salon des Beaucoup at Eckhaus Art Gallery features the art of a mother-son team, Kris and Justin Tuerk.

On one wall is a sampler of the time-treasured arts of quilting and calligraphy; on the other, computer-generated color-jam circa 2010.  On mom's wall, there are scenes of the stony fields of the Isle of Skye; on Justin's, photos of rock 'n rollers. You can see fabric batiks, jewelry created from a handful of 1 million plastic bread-bag clips, a lineup of Converse High Tops,  Indie films on a nearby monitor, and a Labrosone Confabulation (literally, a conversation between brass instruments). Beaucoup eclecticism.

Equally fascinating, through newspaper clippings and journals, you can witness the transformation of Kris over the past 30 years: rooting her way through various art forms while raising Justin and Ryan, stretching and reaching, and finally blossoming into Kutztown Area Middle School’s art instructor. Her business card says it all: Sculpting Futures. Stop in and enjoy it, Laurie Lynch

Salon des Beaucoup at Eckhaus Art Gallery, 157 W. Main St., Kutztown, will be open through Nov. 25. Gallery hours are Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays from noon until 9 p.m. and Sundays from noon until 6 p.m. On Wednesday, Nov. 17, Kris will be at the gallery from 4 to 9 p.m. for a special open house where she will also sell her market bags, aprons and other fabric creations. 

This week at Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market: kale, celeriac, Jerusalem artichokes, eggs, garlic, shallots, heirloom potatoes and sweet potatoes. We still have a good supply of German White garlic and a just-found batch of Music garlic (lost in my house ...) for planting.

Freshly dug Jerusalem artichokes

For "Tuerky" Day (my apologies to Kris and Justin): visit Fleur-de-Lys for your fresh parsley, sage, and thyme. (Rosemary went to potted-plant heaven during the drought). Also available, winter savory and chocolate mint!

Handmade for the Holidays: We've got Deb Zvanut's Baskets in the Woods hand-woven creations and F-d-L lavender wands.

Blog Bounty: Vanessa brought over a wonderful pork-and-apple-stuffed butternut and I supplied the chard pie, and together we figured out how to "wrap text" and insert a second photo!

Written on Slate: No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November!

Fleur-de-Roots

Jerusalem artichoke sunflowers

 

Imagine gazing at Belgium’s dense, flannel-gray sky painted with autumn leaves in hues of red, orange and yellow as the boat you are motoring on slides through the canal waters near Antwerp, your boyfriend by your side. That’s how my daughter Marina spent a day of her semester break … the rest of the week, she assures me, will be spent doing nothing but writing her research papers.

Honestly, I can imagine it. Last Christmas, Marina gave me the book “A Culinary Journey in Gascony” by Kate Hill. Kate runs a sort of barge-and-breakfast on a French canal boat and I devoured every description and recipe as I toured the waterways from Bordeaux to Toulouse from my living room couch.

In the depths of last winter I was so smitten with the book that I made a trip to Wegman’s for celeriac, so I could try Kate’s Soupe aux Deux Celeris (aka Two-Celery Soup). I made it for the gang of cousins in State College at Nonna’s house. Suffice to say, when planting seeds this spring, I sowed a flat of Giant of Prague celeriac. Celeriac is a plant that likes moist soil, so during this droughty summer I was a wee bit concerned. When I harvested the celeriac last week I got some fine-looking nobs, but certainly, no giants.

Soupe aux Deux Celeris

1 large celery root (or three of mine)

1 small bunch celery and the tasty yellow leaves for garnish

2-3 shallots, peeled and chopped

2 oz. bacon, diced

1 tsp. butter

Salt and pepper to taste

2 Tbsp. crème fraiche

Freshly ground nutmeg

Peel celery root and chop into large chunks. Chop celery stalks. Set aside. Place shallots, bacon and butter in 3-quart saucepan over medium heat. Stir until bacon is cooked. Remove from pan and set aside. 

Toss celery root and celery into pan and coat with bacon fat. Add salt and pepper and cover with 1 quart water. Let the soup come to a boil, then turn down heat and cook until celery is soft. Remove from heat and swirl in dollop of crème fraiche. Serve soup topped with shallots and bacon, as well as a sprinkling of fresh pepper, ground nutmeg and a sprig of celery leaves.

 

 Rooting for More

Joining the celery root in the Fleur-de-Lys refrigerator is another root vegetable that is native to North America, although it goes by the unlikely name of Jerusalem artichoke. Jerusalem artichokes are actually the tubers of towering sunflowers. We’re selling these for eating or planting – but be forewarned. It is said that if you plant a Jerusalem artichoke, it will never leave the spot, because, dig as you may, a tuber is always left deep underground, ready to sprout the next summer.

I always wait until we’ve had a few good frosts before harvesting Jerusalem artichokes so the starchy inulin is converted into fructose. Back in the 1600s, European culinary writers were enthusiastic about this North American Indian tuber until it was discovered, as Englishman John Goodyer wrote, the tubers “cause a filthy, loathsome, stinking wind within the body”, according to Sally Fallon’s “Nourishing Traditions”.

Fortunately, inulin dissolves in hot water, so flatulence can be avoided by cooking. Lemon juice added to the cooking water will also prevent the iron-rich flesh from turning black. A long period of cold storage (several frosts) will also help the inulin break down. I’ve got a cast-iron stomach, but I’ve never had any stomach distress by adding slices of raw Jerusalem artichokes to a winter salad – but again, be forewarned.

Raw or slightly cooked Jerusalem artichokes are recommended for people with diabetes, according to Fallon, because most of the starch is unavailable. She recommends mixing them with plenty of butter or cream, so the absorption of simple sugars into the bloodstream is gradual.

To cook Jerusalem artichokes, scrub them clean of any soil and drop them into boiling water for about 10-12 minutes, adding fresh lemon juice to the cooking water during the last five minutes. Drain. Slice and sauté in butter. Sprinkle with salt and pepper, and little lemon zest if you like.

Enjoy these new tastes! Laurie Lynch

A Shameless Commercial: In “Nourishing Traditions” Sally Fallon recommends peeling Jerusalem artichokes. I prefer leaving the peel on but scrubbing them well with the vegetable brushes I sell in the shop. I love these soft but sturdy brushes and use them day in and day out for washing hen eggs.

A Shameless Compliment: A woman came into the shop a few weeks ago to buy Music garlic for planting. She asked if she should use cow manure or chicken manure as a soil amendment. I told her I’ve never had cow manure, so I use what I have – chicken manure. She said, “Well, then that’s what I’ll use. I want to do it just like you do it.” After she left, tears were rolling down my cheeks. I’ve always kidded a friend of mine about her fan club (she is a professional singer) and now, as I approach my swan song, it looks like I have a fan club too.

A Shameless Plea: Does anyone know if it is possible to add more than one photo to a blog? I wanted to show closeups of freshly dug Jerusalem artichokes and celeriac, but couldn't figure out the technology. And whoops, I thought the Jerusalem artichokes photo would replace the large fall photo of the chalkboard.

Written on the Slate Chalkboard at Nonna's home as a gentle reminder from her grandson: “In every life we have some trouble, when you worry, you make it double. Don’t worry, be happy.” Bobby McFerrin

Fleur-de-Discombobulate

There are just some words you can’t help but love. “Discombobulate” is one of them. I think this is probably the first time I’ve ever typed it, but I remember my Mother using it often when I was growing up. Dis – com – BOB – u – late seemed to spring from her mouth, giving me a serious case of the giggles.

Right now, it seems a fitting way to describe my life. Confusing to the hysterical, ya-just-gotta-laugh, extreme.

As fall eases in and the temperatures drop, my appetite jumps into “freshman 15” gear, due, in no small part, from growing up in a college town where “new year” is synonymous with “new school year”. Yes, you can’t grow up in State College-Happy Valley without the fall blitz of football, tailgating, and pizza. My husband Paul refined the college town pizza fetish to regular Friday night homemade pizza family feasts in Coplay and then in Kutztown. The kids and I were spoiled.

In my first fall as an empty nester of one, a maddening craving for pizza came over me. I could taste the tomato sauce, the oven-sweetened onions, the greasy pepperoni, the stringy mozzarella cheese. I had all of the toppings so I dashed to Weis and bought a plastic envelope containing two “gourmet” mama-something pizza crusts. No sweat. Brush olive oil on the crust, top, and pop in the oven. When I pulled the pizza out of the oven, I knew I was in for disappointment. My nose is my guide to all things edible … and the fresh-baked fragrance just wasn’t there. I took out the pizza shears, one of my all-time favorite kitchen gadgets, and cut a wedge. With the first bite I knew I would have been better off using the cardboard box from a local pizza joint to arrange my beloved toppings on. I ate some, and gave the crust (we call them pizza bones) to Magoo.

It was so bad that I knew enough not to waste toppings on the second crust. But I also didn’t want the unbaked pizza crust cluttering up the frig. So, I figured I had two choices: bake the plain shell for the chickens or for Magoo, the Frisbee dog.

I chose the former. The girls love bread of any kind. It was a good choice.

Magoo, the Frisbee dog, turned 2 this month, about the time Bouviers “grow up”. He’s been housebroken for some time but has a little too much enthusiasm for greeting people. “No Jump!” is his middle name. But, he is a smart dog and does sit nicely when commanded in French:  “Assieds“, a lesson he learned last Christmas break when Marina was home. In time for his second birthday he learned to return the Frisbee to me after fetching it, and, just this week, he caught a toss in mid-air. The only problem is Frisbees don’t last long with his sharp teeth – a week at the most. Aunt France, the ultimate pet spoiler, brought him a bright blue Frisbee earlier this month when she came to plant garlic, and within hours it looked like a sieve – I bet you could grate mozzarella on one side!

The second pizza shell was a candidate for a Frisbee ... but the morning after my first solo pizza-making experience I was glad it wasn’t my choice. Magoo barfed up the pizza bones.

By then I was quite desperate for a good pizza dough recipe. I emailed my nephew Wille, a Culinary Nutrition student at Johnson & Wales. He sent back his recipe within two hours. I scanned it quickly. 12 quarts of bread flour?  1½ cups of salt? I skimmed further. “This recipe probably makes about 48 pizzas … sorry I can’t break it down for ya, midterms this week!”

Well, I wasn’t about to break it down either. Life was too discombobulated. I went out of town for a two-day conference, then spent the weekend with my Mom and Richard. This week, I’ve been playing catch-up: digging sweet potatoes, planting garlic, tinkering with the pellet stove, toting bags to Goodwill, sleeping in four-hour blocks (divorce insomnia), writing cover letters, scouting references, filling out FAFSA forms, getting vehicles inspected, and other errands. As I sat in a waiting room, flipping through a magazine that was probably circa 2004 or so, I found Bianco’s Pizza Dough. And guess what, Wille, it makes four 12-inch pizzas.

Bianco’s Pizza Dough

2¼ teaspoons active dry yeast (one ¼-ounce envelope)

2 cups warm water (105° to 115°)

5 to 5½ cups unbleached all-purpose flour, plus more for dusting  (I substituted about 2 cups duram semolina flour for 2 cups of the all-purpose flour.)

2 teaspoons fine sea salt

Extra-virgin olive oil for bowl

Assorted pizza toppings

1. Dissolve yeast in warm water in a large bowl and let stand for 5 minutes. Stir in 3 cups flour and salt, stirring until smooth. Stir in additional 2 cups flour; continue adding flour (up to ½ cup), 1 tablespoon at a time, stirring until dough comes away from bowl but is still sticky.

2. Turn dough onto lightly floured work surface, and knead with lightly floured hands. Start by slapping dough onto counter, pulling it toward you with one hand and pushing it away with the other. Fold dough back over itself. Repeat until it is easier to handle, about 10 times. Finish kneading until dough is smooth, elastic, and soft, about 10 minutes.

3. Shape dough into ball and transfer to lightly oiled bowl; turn to coat. Cover with plastic, and let rise in warm place until it doubles in volume, 3 hours.

4. Preheat oven to 500°. Make sure bottom oven rack is as low as it can go.

5.Remove dough from bowl and place on floured surface, cutting into 4 pieces. Shape into balls, dust with flour and cover with plastic. Let rest 20-30 minutes, allowing dough to almost double.

6. Holding the top edge of 1 dough ball in both hands, let bottom edge stretch down, carefully moving hands around edges to form a circle, as if turning a wheel. Place on lightly oiled pan. (Refrigerate other dough balls wrapped in plastic.)

7. Arrange toppings.

8. Heat oven to broil and place pizza on bottom rack. Broil about 3 minutes until bubbles begin to form on crust. Reduce temperature to 500° and bake until crust is crisp and golden brown, about 6-8 minutes more.

I simplified the directions (the original called for a pizza stone) and pulled my first made-from-scratch pizza out of the oven and slid it onto a cooling rack. It wasn’t the most beautiful pie that’s ever graced our kitchen, but it smelled perfect. I let it cool for a few minutes and reached for the pizza shears. They were nowhere to be found. Discombobulated once again. Laurie Lynch

This week at Fleur-de-Lys: eggs, garlic, shallots, red, white, and blue potatoes, chard, kale, sweet potatoes, peppers, tomatoes, and honey. A fresh crop of luffas is sunning in the hoop house.

Thank You: To Pat for helping me figure out the technological intricacies of blogdom. As the days progress, I hope to import past issues into the blog archive, and, if possible, create some sort of recipe key.

Written on Slate: “When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amore …”

Fleur-de-TGIR

 

Thank goodness it’s RAINING! That’s how I started the week out. Gosh, we needed this. It was so dry that my plastic rain gauge was screaming, “Water me! Water me!”  (Let me go on record to say I am careful what I wish for … today’s Morning Call headline forecasting 6 inches of rain in the next two days is none of my doing!)

But last weekend as I was working in the cooling shade of our conifers and Kentucky coffee trees, I also learned a hard lesson on the impact of sun and garlic growing. Yes, when you think of garlic you think of the sun-drenched fields of Italy, so the equation Big Sun = Big Garlic is a no-brainer.

I guess what I didn’t realized is how much the trees have grown to shade our original garlic field of a dozen years ago. The bulk of our 2009-10 garlic harvest was pitifully small, except for a plot of late-planted heirloom varieties that grew in our sun-baked kitchen garden, next to the house. Those bulbs are monsters!

So, I spent last weekend sorting varieties for planting Columbus Day weekend. It’s a family ritual that moved with us from our backyard garden in Coplay to our farm in Maxatawny Township, and I’m not ready to give it up. Who knows where I’ll be in nine months when it is ready for harvest, but I’ll face that challenge then.

This weekend we’ll be pulling the “old” tomato plants at the top of the main field and rototilling to prepare the soil in the sunniest part of the field for a dozen vintage varieties of garlic: Music, German White, Maxatawny, Spanish Roja, Lorz Italian, Siberian, Asian Tempest, Porcelain, Metechi, Persian Star, Georgian Fire, and Chet’s Italian Red.

For the rest of you garlic lovers who like to grow your own, we are selling bags of Music and German White for planting. Laurie Lynch

Rainy September days are great for roasting peppers in the oven (and eating them too!)

Roasted Red or Yellow Peppers

1. Cut peppers in half using a sharp knife, cut out stem, inner membrane and seeds.

2. Place halves down on waxed paper and brush with olive oil. Then flip peppers and brush oil on the other side.

3. Put peppers on baking sheet (I spray mine lightly with Pam to prevent sticking, just in case) and place on oven rack in the middle position at 450° . Roast for 30 to 40 minutes, flipping peppers occasionally until skin is partially charred and blackened.

4. Remove baking sheet from oven and transfer pepper halves into a bowl and cover with plastic wrap for about 10 minutes. The charred skin will loosen as the peppers cool.

5. With a paring knife, remove charred skins and place peppers in airtight container in the refrigerator for up to a week.

6. Roasted peppers are so sweet they don’t last long. But, just in case, I have a question: Has anyone tried freezing roasted peppers with any success?

Out of Our Shell: I grew Italian Rose shelling beans for my friend Joanne’s Italian co-worker. He loves the fresh/dried beans for soups and was like a kid at Christmas when I harvested the cranberry-marbled pods for him. Joanne and I also decided to try some in the kitchen … and then, Joanne discovered this NPR story on her Apple contraption:

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=129855166&sc=ipad8f=1008

Three Dog Night: We’ve got three dog crates for sale, medium, large, and super large with a puppy divider for anyone who needs to train a new puppy/dog. 

Keep It Local: Fun for all Sunday from noon until 5 p.m. at La Cocina Mexicana’s parking lot in Kutztown.

Eat It Local: At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market we have peppers and potatoes for roasting, eggs for poaching, garlic for planting (and eating), shallots (Picasso and Long) and zucchini for toasting, kale and chard for boasting, and basil for pestoing.

Written on Slate: As you think good thoughts you are planting good seeds inside you, and the Universe will transform those seeds into a garden of paradise – Rhonda Byrne

Fleur-de-NunRun

My mother is a walker. Several times a day she heads outside and sets a pretty good pace for a 60 or 70 year old, let alone an octogenarian.

So, when I heard about the Nun Run and Fun Walk at Sacred Heart Villa in Reading last weekend, I thought it would be something different to do for her visit. My friend Dina, my mom, and I went to support Sister Kathleen and her Missionary Sisters of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, chalk up a morning workout, and get great Nun Run T-shirts.

Dina ran the course while my mother and I started walking. We soon settled into a comfortable speed beside a woman pushing a double baby jogger. We introduced ourselves to the new mother, a theology professor at Villanova. (She couldn’t pass up a “Nun Run” either.) I asked the names of her 8-month-old twins.

“Thomas and Campion,” she replied.

Now my menopausal mental state has me forgetting names of good friends, recipe ingredients, and the location of my Turkey Hill 52-cent-refillable coffee mug. I’ve never been one to memorize poems or speeches or even titles of books – why waste the effort when I can “look it up”? But, in a voice much smoother than my own, the Fleur-de-Lys spirit flowed with the words, “Thomas Campion … There is a garden in her face, where roses and white lilies grow … I can’t remember the rest.” 

I shocked myself and I know I stunned the professor!

I was walking forward, but backpedalling fast. “Um, I love that quote because it reminds me of my daughter. We have an old building on our property and the slate roof had to be replaced so I recycle the slates for garden signs with my favorite quotes. The Thomas Campion quote is right next to the hammock, so I recite it to myself while I rest in the shade.”

When I got home, I decided if I was waxing poetic Campion I needed to Google the chap.  It turns out Thomas Campion was a Renaissance Englishman (1567-1620) , a poet, medical doctor, and author of a book on music theory.  He also wrote 100 songs for the lute in the Books of Airs (also spelled Ayres). The Fourth Book of Airs includes, “There Is a Garden in Her Face.” And now, almost 400 years later, there are two little boys in Pennsylvania, Thomas and Campion, and a lute song singing farmer, Laurie Lynch.

There Is a Garden in Her Quilt: Quilter Valerie, a weekly customer from Bethlehem, tells me she is always working on a quilt. But the quilt she is working on right now reminds her of Fleur-de-Lys, a patchwork of gardens, with sunflowers and a sun, birdhouses, and a central cathedral window. Can’t wait to see it.

Hamburg Sauce: That’s the name of the version of sauce Holly’s PA Dutch grandmother used to make, similar to last week’s Club Sauce. “She used it on everything, that is, if she wasn’t using horseradish on it already.”

You Say Potat-O, I Say Po-tot-O: My daughter Marina tells me that the French equivalent of “yum” is “miammmmm.” We’ve got potatoes at Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market this week, as well as garlic, shallots, peppers, tomatoes, basil, eggs, squash, beans, kale, and chard. Miammmm! Stop by and see our giant luffas too.

Keep It Local, Get It Global: I don’t “do” Facebook, and life in that fast lane blissfully passes me by … most of the time. After reading about the plight of Kutztown’s La Cocina Mexicana, in a recent F-d=L newsletter and then scanning Facebook, or whatever one does with Facebook, my daughter zipped off a few highlights of an upcoming FUNd-raiser via Skype chat from Brussels.

A Keep It Local event will be held in the parking lot of La Cocina Mexicana, 107 W. Main St., Sunday, Oct. 3, from noon to 5 p.m. This event is run by locals to support local businesses and build a sense of community, as well as to show local pride in being different. The info she sent explains, “Let’s face it, this town has characters, and we want those characters there.” The goal is to make the event “odd/off-the-wall/weird”. So, the day will include everything from mime to mariachi with lots of festive folks and fun, including a Pizza Pinata!

Written in Slate: There is a garden in her face,

Where roses and white lilies grow;

A heavenly paradise is that place

Where in all pleasant fruits do flow.  Thomas Campion

Fleur-de-TomatoStory

Granted, things are slowing a bit in the garden. The drought has been tough on the winter squash and pumpkins – our irrigation towers didn’t reach far enough. The potatoes and garlic are pulled but it is too soon to harvest the sweet potatoes, celeriac, and Jerusalem artichokes. The first planting of tomatoes is dwindling; the second is taking its time ripening. The peppers, kale, and chard are coming on strong, but the beans and cucumbers peaked and disappeared. I’m not sure what the fall lettuce and spinach and arugula seeds are doing; they sure don’t seem to be germinating …

So the shorter days of September are making room for a more leisurely schedule, especially this week while my mother is visiting. One morning we had coffee and scones at Global Libations to ease into the day. One afternoon a friend dropped by and joined us for lunch. Another filled me in on her summer in Canada exercising polo ponies and invited my mother to her farm. 

I have a sneaking suspicion my mother thinks there is too much gabbing and not enough working.

 “You were in the shop with that customer for so long. What did she buy?”

“Oh, a dozen eggs and a pound of garlic, but we were talking about roasting peppers and freezing pesto. Then she told me about her vacation.” These things take time.

So how do I explain that one of the joys of Fleur-de-Lys Farm is gathering stories from my customers? There is no per-minute charge or 99-cents-a-download fee.

Perhaps this heart-warming story and recipe with history will do the trick. It arrived via email from a woman named Jan. We have an early connection: she lived in State College, my hometown, while she was in first grade and her father was getting his Master’s degree at Penn State. Jan is in the midst of putting together a family cookbook and she sent along a recipe and a delightful snippet of family history.

Jan’s father Joe is quite the gardener and he loves to grow tomatoes best of all. This year, he is growing 80 tomato plants, and makes weekly trips from Mill Hall to Kutztown to share the bounty of his garden with Jan. Besides tomatoes, Joe loves Penn State football and dresses for games in a white tux embroidered with various Lion designs. Jan sent this  recipe for “Club Sauce”, a 1960s version of salsa that her family uses on just about everything, from eggs to hamburgers.

While the recipe is a great way to finish off the growing season (nothing from the harvest goes to waste), it also lends itself to tailgate parties. But what I like most is the tomato story that accompanies it. In the summer of 1952, Jan’s parents, Martha and Joe, planted a tomato garden in South Renovo. They sold the tomatoes they harvested that summer … to buy Martha’s wedding dress. Laurie Lynch

Club Sauce

12 large tomatoes

2 onions

3 sweet peppers

1 hot pepper

2 cups vinegar

2 cups sugar

2 tablespoons salt (optional)

Mix together and cook slowly until the consistency of salsa.

P.S. If you’d like to share a family story and recipe with Fleur-de-Lys friends, send it my way!

Paraprosdokian: This, my friends, is a figure of speech to which I was just introduced. It occurs when the latter part of a sentence or phrase is unexpected, causing the reader to reinterpret the first part. It is often humorous and sometimes, anticlimactic. Here is a tomato-themed paraprosdokian: Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

Written on Slate: There is nothing finer in life than true love and a home-grown tomato. Gary Ibsen

Fleur-de-Breeze

 “Heeeeeeeey, I thought you said I was retiiiiiiired,” Griffey whinnied in the wind.

The cool breezes that made for a perfect Labor Day weekend got me back in the saddle, taking Griffey the retired Mennonite buggy horse for a slow-going trail ride.

“Heeeeeeey, what’s thaaaaaat?” Griffey whinnied once again, balking at a pink arrow spray painted on Hottenstein Road, a leftover directional sign for a Friends Inc. bicycle ride.

Together, the tall, graying-on-the-face Standardbred and the tall, graying-on-the-head Mommabred discovered a farm road new to both of us. With heads held high above the tassels of field corn, we were swallowed in the expanse of blue with white poofy clouds floating above Sittler Valley. “Heeeeeeey, some viewwwwww.”

An incredible lightness of being blew through this Labor Day weekend, sweeping away the mugginess of a long, stifling summer. My thoughts dissolved into a memory of my father and me, a good 25 years ago, crisscrossing farm fields through drifting snow astride a pair of gray geldings, Lucky and Pepper. A year ago this weekend my father left this world, but for a moment, his incredible lightness of spirit returned. Laurie Lynch

Take a Stand: La Cocina Mexicana, 107 W. Main Street, Kutztown, may lose its location to a Pizza Hut! As part of Go Indie’s mission to help independent business owners, the Go Indie team has developed a video and Facebook page for La Cocina Mexicana.

Please watch the video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fATIcgV4aWc

Join the Facebook Page to help Sal Quintero keep his restaurant:

http://www.facebook.com/?ref=logo#!/group.php?gid=147902445242353

Other ideas: Let John Monaghan Realtors (610) 683-5333) know you oppose this move toward mallification.

Call Kutztown Community Partnership (484) 646-9069 or email kcp@hometownu.com to let them know you want to keep this independently owned restaurant in Kutztown.

Contact Pizza Hut Inc., 14841 Dallas Parkway, Dallas, TX 75254, or pizzahut.com, or call the customer feedback number, (800) 948-8488.  Tell them you think Pizza Hut might be a great idea for a Kutztown University dining kiosk, but our town wants to keep its independently owned flavor.

Send this message to others!

Visit La Cocina Mexicana for a meal to show your support!

Historical Note: When Sal retired his “Cocina Mexicana II Authentic Mexican Food” sign, it found a new home in my son Richard’s bedroom. “La Cocina” has been Richard’s favorite restaurant for as long as I can remember.

Small World, Big Heaven: Sal Quintero’s mother and Aunt France’s mother are buried in the same cemetery in Guadalajara, Mexico.

Another Historical Note: Dine Indie (Robyn Jasko and Paul David) supported Fleur-de-Lys Farm during our chicken zoning battle several years ago.

At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market this week: Potatoes, tomatoes, garlic, shallots, summer squash, asparagus beans, watermelon wedges, kale, chard, cucumbers, peppers, and eggs.

Coming Soon: heirloom sweet potatoes, both white and orange, and, after the first frost, Jerusalem artichokes, Brussels sprouts, and homegrown loofas.

Thank You: For all the emails, prayers, hugs, and support as I enter a “new chapter” of life.

Written on Slate: Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has. -- Margaret Mead

Fleur-de-Divorce

He only had to say one word: "Divorce."

Our family crumbled. Our farm and future collapsed. My whole being 

shattered.

"We've grown apart."

Geez, I thought we were growing children into young adults. A family. 

A quaint, local market for our retirement years.  Growing Easter 

chicks into laying hens. Growing Poona Kheera cucumbers, St. Pierre 

tomatoes, Music amd Maxatawny garlic, and red, white, and blue 

potatoes. Rainbow carrots, Bright Lights chard, and purple, yellow 

and green beans. Strawberries, elderberries, currants, blackberries, 

Asian pears, and still waiting on the pawpaws and quince. Oh, the 

pawpaws and quince. Jerusalem artichokes, Belgian endive, loofa 

sponges, lavender wands, and lovage straws. Zinnias, sunflowers, 

climbing nasturtiums, and naked ladies. Dill for pickles, basil for 

pesto, and rosemary for remembrance. Remembrance.

Over the years, these Fleur-de-Lys Farm newsletters have come easy. 

Often, they have written themselves as I pulled foxtail grass or 

pigweed, trying to keep optimism in the forefront. This one was 

different. Frankly, I haven't known quite how to write it but I do 

know that now is the time. None of us can predict what happens from 

one day to the next, but plan, we must. I hope to continue Fleur-de-

Lys Farm Market until the end of the year. And, I will continue this 

newsletter, until . well, as long as there are rosy stories to share.

But even if Fleur-de-Lys Farm soil isn't in or under my boots, it 

will flourish in my mind and my heart. As will the cast of characters 

over the years: the Cousin Campers, Allentown-Coplay friends/family, 

Celso, Bob and Jorga, Tweet and Tim, Cousin Rebecca and Aunt France, 

the Local Yolk*els, the tree huggers and Easter Peeple. Mr. 

Parrothead, Milton from Brooklyn, Joyce and Kim, Ruth E. and Ruthie, 

the Flounders, Paul from Easton, Dino Italiano, and TH Rich.  

Meredith, Valerie, Ginny, Vanessa, Linda, Joanne, Amanda, Josh, 

Denise, Adrienne, and so many others. DebZ, Sonnema and pa, Sister K  

and the Faithfuls, the sorority girls, the newbies, like Jen and 

Destiny, and all my little friends who help gather eggs from the 

nesting boxes on hen hill and giggle when the roosters crow.

You all have my sincere gratitude. It has been a pleasure to grow 

with you and for you. Laurie Lynch

Fleur-de-Seasons

 

Back in February of 2005, I gave a talk at a Winter Women’s Weekend called Eating Through the Seasons: A Calendar of Culinary Adventures.

I had fun preparing and presenting it with my right-hand-woman, daughter Marina. The other day, we were helping each other de-clutter … although we were several time zones and thousands of miles apart. She was in her kot in Brussels, sorting through her wardrobe, trying to weed out T-shirts from middle school and blouses that were uncomfortably short-waisted. I was in our living room, clearing out our only downstairs closet, ridding it of old rolls of wallpaper, bags of bags and boxes of boxes, trying to create an oasis of storage in a century-old farmhouse.

So, in the midst of all of that, I stumbled across a sleeve of handouts from my 2005 talk. I have the extra copies of recipes in the shop … while they last. Laurie Lynch

January: Nanna’s Mayonnaise (from Aunt France) and Oven-Steamed Beets

February: Spicy Groundhogs (cookies) and Herbal Infusion

March: Maple-Vinegar Bliss (from my Mom’s kitchen) and Arugula Salad

April: Boiled Eggs and Egg Salad

May: Wrapped Asparagus and Asparagus and Lemon Dip

June: Gratin du Pay san and Spinach-Strawberry Salad

July: Strozzapreti and Clafouti (from the kitchen of Paula Kutz)

August: Grilled Polenta and Edamame

September: Green Bean Salad

October: Pesto and Rosemary Chicken

November: Pumpkin-Ginger Scones and Roasted Tomato Sauce

December: Chard Pie

At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market this week: freshly dug potatoes: red, white and blue, Tiny Tims, and Yukon Gold. Also, German White and Music garlic loose for eating and bagged for planting, heirloom tomatoes of all shapes, sizes and colors, blackberries, Zephyr squash, lemon, Richmond apple, and Poona Kheera cucumbers, Picasso shallots, red, purple, and yellow sweet peppers, asparagus (yard-long) beans, purple, yellow and green beans, blackberries, and basil. Oh yes, eggs too.

Saturday Barn Sale: Tool chest for a pickup truck, truck wheels, whiskey barrel, dog crates, iron bed, books for children and adults, sporting equipment, parakeet condo, children’s table and chairs, canning equipment, baskets, games, Halloween costumes, must I go on? Just check it out anytime this week – official hours for the sale are Saturday from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m.

Calling All Cartons: If you have a stash of our egg cartons in your car or mudroom, please return them to Fleur-de-Lys Farm. We recycle our own egg cartons, and the pullets are laying!

Seeing Double, Sorta: Many of you know and love our farm manager, Nick the Cat. Well, this summer a stray showed up, an orange kitten. Nick was neutered way back when, but this definitely looks like his kittenhood self. We’ve been feeding it but the darn thing is so shy we can’t get near it. Lately it has made a friend: Nick. They’ve been romping through the bushes and wrestling on the ground, and the youngster even drinks  out of Nick’s favorite watering hole – the pig trough near the shop entrance. So cute!

Written in Slate: “What dreadful hot weather we have! It keeps me in a continual state of inelegance.” Jane Austen

Fleur-de-BLTs

I was in the kitchen the other day and happened to glance over my son Richard’s shoulder and discovered a masterpiece! A stained-glass-window BLT.

First, he toasted two slices of sprouted multi-grain bread. Then he smeared one slice with creamy mayonnaise. Next is where the artistry came in with our heirloom tomatoes: a slice of Violet Jasper, a slice of Egg Yolk, a slice of Tim’s Black Ruffles, and a slice of Green Zebra. I should have taken a photo. It was a mosaic of brilliant, shimmering colors. He topped the tomatoes with bacon, then Trout Back Romaine, finally adding the second slice of toast carefully. Then, he savored his carefully built sandwich. Richard’s visit was all too short but loooong on BLTs.

Picking tomatoes is among my least favorite garden chores.  Early in the season, there are never enough. And this year, Mother Nature played a trick on me. My favorite all-around heirloom tomato is a staple in French markets called St. Pierre. It’s a nice-sized, round, red, disease- and crack-free slicing tomato. This year, I’d see its red shoulders, reach into the tangle of green foliage, grab it … and come up empty-handed, or at least empty-tomatoed. It turns out we had a family of voles, AKA meadow mice. These varmints tunnel up under ripe tomatoes, gobble from the blossom end, suck out all the juice, seeds, and pulp, and leave only a red shell.

But even with the vole family, tomato scarcity turns to tomato surplus in a matter of days. And then, my arms are itching with tomato leaf fuzz that turns to streams of orange yuck as I wash with soap in the kitchen sink.

Now, with a few good rains, we have a mixture of perfect tomatoes and split rotting ones, so I’m on the double-bucket brigade. Good tomatoes carefully placed in the house bucket, others plopped into the chicken bucket. And boy, do the girls love those tomatoes!

Here is a short review of some of the heirlooms we’re harvesting right now (there is a second planting waiting in the wings).

Tim’s Black Ruffles: If tomatoes were dogs, this would be a Chinese Shar-Pei. This large, reddish, greenish, brownish tomato is pleated, tucked, and overlapped, just like the wrinkles on a Shar-Pei.  First year we’ve grown this but it’s a keeper!

White Wax: This creamy, pale yellow tomato came from the seed collection of William Woys Weaver’s Mennonite grandfather. WWW is a food historian, author, gardener and seed saver. The skin of White Wax glows like lit candle, hence, its name. First year we’ve grown a “white” tomato. Blemish-free and sweet.

Roughwood Golden Plum: A Roma-type tomato with an intense golden color that was developed by WWW through a cross between Yellow Brandywine and San Marzano. Named after his home in Devon, PA, Roughwood Golden Plum is meaty, has few seeds, and is reportedly drought resistant. First golden plum tomato we’ve ever grown.

Assilito Family Plum: A robust and flavor-filled local heirloom. My friend Teena gave me a single tomato last fall and I saved the seeds and raised this beauty to harvest.

Violet Jasper: The first Asian tomato I’ve grown, this Oriental jewel is the size of a banty egg (small) but larger than a cherry tomato. It is the color of weathered old brick with a hint of green iridescence.

Three heirlooms we’ve grown before and will continue to grow:

Egg Yolk: The size, shape, and color of, you guessed it, egg yolks. So prolific that I eventually give up picking them … And, just as in the hen house, sometimes you find a double egg yolk on the vine!

Green Zebra: Fresh, citrusy, not-too-sweet taste that always stops red-tomato people in their tracks.

Rose de Berne: We’ve grown this Swiss beauty, with its rosy hue, for years but it took on more significance this summer with our Miss in the Alps.

There’s always next year: Heirloom tomatoes recommended by tomato lovers and on my wish list for next year: Olpaka Plum Tomato (a Polish heirloom, just like my Mom), Black from Tula (a Russian heirloom with delicious, dark flesh), and Ananas Noire. This tomato is said to be a kaleidoscope of colors and flavors. The name is French and translates to “Black Pineapple”.  Ananas Noire was developed by Belgian horticulturist Pascal Moreau, so I must try it for my Flemish friend Ziggy.

There’s always last week: The Basil-Tomato Tart recipe and correction caught the eye of an old acquaintance, Elsbeth: “I had to laugh when I saw this … I’m reading it and sort of skipping around and then got to the recipe which started to sound very familiar. I gave it to Terese many years ago and my friend Jane, from Boston, gave it to me years before that … I love when things like this go around and show up at the most unexpected times!  I am sending your email on to Jane so she can see how well traveled her recipe is (and who knows where she got it?)  Brightened my day!”

Yes, sharing recipes is one of the joys of life. My nephew Wille, who will soon be starting his final year at Johnson & Wales in Providence, RI, spent the summer cooking in restaurants in Lima, Peru, to learn how to prepare seafood. Richard picked him up at La Guardia after his flight from Peru, and Wille whipped up this luncheon salad from our Fleur-de-Lys Farm display, a combination he recalled from working at the Yardley Inn.

Heirloom Tomato-Blackberry Salad

Bite-sized chunks of a variety of heirloom tomatoes, mix those colors!

Fresh blackberries

Fresh chopped basil

Balsamic vinegar

Gently toss tomatoes, blackberries and basil in a bowl, splash with balsamic vinegar, and serve.  Take care and enjoy the tomatoes of summer. Laurie Lynch

This week at Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market: elderberries, blackberries, heirloom tomatoes, potatoes, beans, summer squash, cucumbers, peppers, shallots, garlic for eating and planting, loofa sponges (and loofas growing on our fence), kale, and flowers – zinnias, cosmos, sunflowers, tassel flowers, salvia, snapdragons, African blue basil, and other gorgeous cottage flower bouquet delights.

Free Magazines! There is a basket of recent Bon Appetit and Saveur magazines in the shop, free for the taking. I also have bushels of old (1990s) Victoria magazines.

Barn Sale Bonanza: Saturday, Aug. 28, we will open our barns to bargain hunters from 8 a.m. to 2 p.m.  Boxes and boxes of books for children and adults, LARGE dog crates, sporting equipment, aquarium/terrarium, parakeet condo, children’s table and chairs, children’s rocker, canning equipment, iron bed, tool chest for pickup truck, and whatever else we can part with in the next several days.

Customer Appreciation Barn Sale Hours: If you’re visiting the shop anyway in the next 10 days, you can shop early. Just ask!

Craftsman Appreciation: A customer stopped by and was inspecting our squeaky screen shop door. “It’s supposed to squeak,” I explained. The fellow who hung it said a shop like ours should have a squeaky door. That carpenter was Tom Loch of Kutzown. He also built our bridge and restored the interior of half of our house after a fire years ago.

Enough Written on Slate Sayings for Sauce:

“Sonny, true love is the greatest thing, in the world – except for a nice MLT – mutton, lettuce and tomato sandwich, where the mutton is lean and the tomato is ripe.” – William Goldman

About Audiences: “They were really tough – they used to tie their tomatoes on the end of a yo-yo, so they could hit you twice.” – Bob Hope

“You know, when you get your first asparagus, or your first acorn squash, or your first really good tomato of the season, these are the moments that define a cook’s year.” – Mario Batali

“The federal government has sponsored research that has produced a tomato that is perfect in every respect, except you can’t eat it. We should make every effort to make sure the disease, often referred to as ‘progress’ doesn’t spread.” – Andy Rooney

“It’s difficult to think anything but pleasant thoughts while eating a home-grown tomato.” – Lewis Grizzard

Fleur-de-BasilBaby

On Saturday, the Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market chalkboard message was “Basil Baby 20”.

It was Marina’s 20^th birthday, so when I awoke, I did the same thing I did on the morning of Aug. 7, 1990: went into the garden to pick basil. And basil I picked! No wonder basil pesto is her favorite meal.

But I couldn’t make Marina pesto for her birthday this year … she’s having what she calls her “Carmen Sandiego Summer”. From her home base in Brussels she has visited Rome, Stockholm, southern France, and finally, Switzerland. For her 20^th birthday, she was at a resort in Gstaad-Saanen, working as an au pair for a family on holiday. With a backdrop of the Bernese Alps, she is experiencing the trials of toilet training, refereeing (in two languages) mealtimes with three rambunctious youngsters under 10, and collapsing in bed, exhausted, with sleepy requests for “Little Star” – the youngsters’ code for a few more rounds of  “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”

We set a Skype date since she had the afternoon off.  Richard was home so we started the festivities. When Marina zoomed in on Skype, we were ready, singing “Happy Birthday” with two slices of cake with candles burning bright. We told her to blow out the candles and make a wish, and we helped out on this side of the windy Atlantic. And yes, there were a few tears.

Richard thought it was pretty cool that he got to eat Marina’s birthday cake and she could only enjoy it vicariously. But then Marina’s room service meal arrived: pesto gnocchi, venison with elderberry sauce, polenta, and vegetables, and we had the virtual feast. So, despite the miles and time zones, our baby girl turned 20 with basil, family, and friends via the Internet. May your wishes come true, Laurie Lynch

More on Pesto: Marie wrote that she is growing basil for the first time and appreciated last week’s pesto recipe. But, she wondered if she had to buy a salad spinner to clean the basil.

My Answer to Marie:  No, you don't need to use a salad spinner -- I only use it if I prep the basil one day and make pesto the next. Usually, I just gather it in the garden, pick off the leaves and process them. If you pick just after the dew dries, why wash again? If you insist on washing your basil, just make sure you pat the leaves dry with a towel. Another suggestion is to snip off longer stems of basil plants and place them in water, just like a bouquet, and keep them on the kitchen counter (not in the refrigerator). That way, you can enjoy the basil for a few days before making pesto!

Basil-Loving Godmother: Last week Marina’s godmother Terese had Richard and I over for lunch and a swim with her three youngsters. Always the perfect hostess, Terese made this tomato pie that you all must try! We’ve got Assilito Family and Roughwood Golden plum tomatoes that would be perfect for this recipe, as well as fresh garlic and basil.

Basil-Tomato Tart

One rollout piecrust from Pillsbury

1½ cups shredded mozzarella cheese (6 oz.)

4-5 plum tomatoes

1 cup loosely packed basil leaves

2-4 cloves garlic

½ cup mayonnaise

¼ cup grated Parmesan cheese

Freshly ground pepper

Bake pie shell. Remove from oven and sprinkle with ½ cup mozzarella cheese. Cool on wire rack. Cut tomatoes into wedges and drain on paper towels. Arrange wedges on melted cheese in baked pie shell.

In food processor, combine garlic and basil, and chop. Sprinkle over tomatoes. In medium bowl, combine mayonnaise, remaining mozzarella, Parmesan, and pepper. Spoon cheese mixture over basil mixture, spreading to cover top. Bake at 375° for 35-40 minutes until golden and bubbling. As an appetizer, serves 8; full meal, serves 4.

Detour Done: The Eagle Point steel-grate bridge was painted bright green and is open to traffic.

Peeps to Pullets to Laying Hens: Richard and cousin Liam helped me round up the pullets so we could move them in with the laying hens. The former Easter peeps will start laying any day now. The black Crevcoeurs with their black-feathered “hairdos” appear to be stylish, French glamour queens … but the young men say they’re really lightening-fast roadrunners. Beep beep.

Written on Slate: Bisou magic! French for “magic kisses” and pronounced bee-zoo maj-eek, rhyming with “sheik”. When Marina’s charge accidentally stepped on her toe, the youngster bent down and kissed Marina’s toe, saying, “Bisou magic!”

Fleur-de-Lessons

There’s something going on in our neck of the woods. My guess is that the local foods movement has reaped a fascination with cooking for the 20-something generation.

First came a request from my nephew Andre: Next time you come to State College, can you teach me how to make jam?

It was one of those 90+-degree weekends and no AC in the kitchen, but we persevered for the sake of the preserves! Andre mashed and stirred and ladled and canned his way to a half dozen or more beautiful jars of blueberry jam on that muggy Saturday night. I’m sure more than a few beads of our perspiration flavored the batch.

And now, it’s elderberry season. We have a bumper crop and our wooden ladder stands ready, leaning on the hammock tree, for me to climb to the upper berry clusters that flip and droop when heavy with black, ripe fruit. Plenty for the birds, our customers, and us. We’ve gotten calls from as far away as Lancaster from people in search of the berries because so many wild elderberry bushes are being hacked down or sprayed with pesticides to eliminate the “weeds”.  One person’s weed is another’s treasure. A few days ago I was filling baskets of elderberries to the sounds and smells of a merry weed-whacker ridding his stream bank of anything taller than 2 inches.

Next on the cooking lesson hotline was a call from my son, Richard. He is living in State College with my mother and he was making dinner. He wanted to double-check the directions and yield for couscous.

I patiently waited until the next day to ask if the meal was successful.

“Nonna kept asking, ‘What do you call this rice?’” Richard told me. “But she ate it.”

Nonna didn’t need to know that couscous isn’t rice, but granules made by rolling and shaping moistened semolina wheat (or, depending on the country, barley, pearl millet or corn). I can’t type Arabic, but the Arabic name for this dish, traditionally served under a meat or vegetable stew, is pronounced “kuskus”, meaning well rolled or well formed, which is how we get the name “couscous”.

So, my son, who honed his tact and coping skills as a Rotary Exchange Student in Brasil, is polishing those traits as he lives with his 81-year-old grandmother. “It’s not rice, Nonna. It’s called ‘couscous’.  It is so good they named it twice – cous cous.”

Three is a charm, and my third cooking lesson request came from Destiny, the young woman who wrote about Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market for a Kutztown University writing project.

She emailed to see if I would share my recipe for pesto or show her how to make it. With 20 years or so of pesto-making under my apron, I don’t follow an actual recipe … so I had to make it first to measure how much basil fills the salad spinner, find the actual measurement of a good handful of walnuts, and figure out how much olive oil makes the sauce moist but not runny. Then, I made a date with Destiny.

I asked Destiny if she had a food processor.  “No.”  So, my first advice for the bride-to-be was to list a Cuisinart on her bridal registry. Then, we went through the following steps.

1. Place 4 or more cloves of fresh garlic and a cup of walnuts in the Cuisinart fitted with a metal blade and pulse a few times.

2. Add four cups of washed and spun-dried, fresh basil leaves. Pulse until leaves are chopped. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste.

3. Process the mixture while slowly pouring in 2/3-cup olive oil. Scrape bowl, pulse again, and then fill about four 1-cup containers with the pesto and freeze.

4. To prepare, thaw pesto. Mix with one pound of cooked pasta. Toss in one cup of freshly grated Parmesan or Romano cheese, and a sprinkling of pine nuts, if you’d like. Serve hot and yummy.

Destiny, who is planning a June 2011 wedding, left with a batch of fresh pesto, the recipe, and a Written on Slate engagement memento:

Love, be true to her.

Life, be dear to her.

Health, stay close to her.

Joy, draw near to her.

Fortune, find what you can do for her,

Search your treasure-house through for her,

Follow her footsteps the wide world over,

And keep her husband always her lover!

 -- Old English Toast to a Bride

This week at Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market: Taxi, Violet Jasper, Egg Yolk, and Tim’s Black Ruffle tomatoes, chartreuse Armenian cucumbers with long, wrinkly ribs, tromboncino squash, elderberries, blackberries, kale, chard, German White garlic, Picasso shallots, purple and red sweet peppers, red, white, and blue potatoes, eggs, honey, and our Veggie Sampler boxes (a selection of cucumbers, squash, and peppers).

… And, a Saturday Barn Sale: The Queen of Yard Sales snapped me and our outbuildings into shape last weekend and we’ve organized boxes and bins of assorted paraphernalia for your recycling pleasure. A bounty of baskets, boxes of Victoria magazines, tons of children’s books, sports gear for youngsters (cross-country skiis, baseballs and bats, rollerblades, skateboards, boogie boards, bicycles, etc.), games, gobbledygook, craft and canning supplies, and even an old-fashion iron bed.  One woman’s clutter and memories can be your treasure!  Laurie Lynch

Fleur-de-LlamaBeans

 

noun

1.  the pelleted manure of a domesticated pack animal of the camel family found in the Andes and at Fleur-de-Lys Farm. 

2.  the perfect way to heat up your compost pile and get all of that organic matter cooking!

3.  free and bagged, while they last. 

4.  the perfect excuse to come see the crocuses, winter aconites, snowdrops, Lenten roses, and yes, our beautiful llama lladies, Liberty and Fleurry.

Llaurie Llynch

Fleur-de-Detour

Things have been noisy on the back four acres this week. PennDOT is working on the steel-grate bridge that crosses Mill Creek on Eagle Point Road. What this means for those who drive to Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market by way of New Smithville is a detour. Instead of turning onto Eagle Point Road, follow the detour signs which will take you out Long Lane to Route 222. Turn right at the light, and then take the first right onto Hottenstein Road and keep driving until you see 440 Hottenstein Road. For those of you coming from Kutztown on Eagle Point Road, clear road to Fleur-de-Lys Farm.

The hammering, grinding, scraping, and spraying in the tarp tunnel encasing the bridge are enough to jiggle the teeth out of a woodchuck, so just think what the sound is doing to the hens on the hill. They may lay scrambled eggs. And imagine working inside that plastic tunnel in this heat!

Along with eggs this week, we have elderberries, blackberries, cucumbers, summer squash, peppers, tomatoes, potatoes, garlic, shallots, kale, chard, basil, dill, assorted herbs and flowers, and peace and quiet after 5 p.m., when the road crew goes home. Laurie Lynch

Written on Slate: Earth is here so kind, that just tickle her with a hoe and she laughs with the harvest.  Douglas Jerrold