Fleur-de-Luffa

 

I don’t know about you, but I’m thankful to see a little green. No, I’m not talking about green beer and St. Patty’s Day. I’m talking about little shoots of garlic breaking through the field in rows and little green nubs of daffodils pushing up where the March sun touches the soil. And then, there are the photographs of seasons past at Fleur-de-Lys Farm.

 Over the years, the plants that have harvested the most questions from visitors are our lovely luffas. Luffa aegyptiaca is what it is known as in botanical circles. In the bathtub or the kitchen you might hear it called simply, luffa. In vintage seed catalogs or encyclopedias, it might go by the name of dishcloth gourd, Chinese running okra, vegetable sponge, or strainer vine. 

The 1888 Burpee’s catalog described luffa as “A natural dishcloth, and a most admirable one. Many ladies prefer this dishcloth. The fruit grow about 2 feet, and the vine is very ornamental, producing clusters of yellow blossoms, in pleasing contrast with the silvery-shaded, dark-green foliage. In the North this variety requires starting in a hotbed. The dried interiors of these gourds have already become an article of commerce; grown in Florida, they are sold by Philadelphia and NY druggists.”

Luffas have been a solid fill-in crop at Fleur-de-Lys. Like eggs, our luffa sponges are available year-round. Luffa seeds need to be started indoors in March, but after you plant the baby luffa vines in the ground around June 1 (in Pennsylvania), you basically stand back and let ‘em rip. The vines curl and twist and travel across the planting bed and clamber up any fence or trellis that gets in their way. They keep growing and going, over wires and pickets, scrambling until frost stops them in their tracks. Meanwhile, they push out these yellow searchlight blossoms that call to pollinators and photographers. Turn your back, and a fruit starts growing, peeking out behind a fan of leaves like a shy kitten. Next time you look, it’s putting your biggest baseball bat zucchini to shame.

As summer eases into fall, the mature luffas change from green to yellow to brown. After the first hard frost, I cut off the luffas from the vines and place them in our plastic hoop house to dry. When the solar heat begins to wane, I bring them inside where they continue to cure with the heat of our pellet stove. As they dry out, you can gently squeeze and pop the skin, breaking the blossom end cap and almost unzip the skin along its lengthwise ribs (like peeling a banana), exposing the plant’s fibrous vascular system … aka, the luffa sponge. Next, the fun part: shaking out the seeds. Once the seeds are removed (save them for next year’s crop) you can soak your luffa in hydrogen peroxide or bleach to lightened any dark spots.

Then, rub-a-dub-dub, you’re ready for the tub! According to a University of Georgia Extension publication, the luffa sponge induces blood circulation for the skin, providing relief for those suffering from rheumatism and arthritis. And potato and carrot skins love them too! By using a luffa as a vegetable scrubber, you don’t remove the valuable nutrients often lost by peeling. Luffas are machine washable, environmentally safe, biodegradable, and a renewable resource.

Yes, you can even eat them; when they’re young, about six inches long. My nephew/chef Wille sautéed a few for me last summer. With a little olive oil and garlic, they taste like any other young, tender squash … but they grow up to be so much more. Luffas are used as soles for slippers, insulation for army helmets, stuffing for mattresses and saddles, filters for steam engines and diesel motors, and can they can soundproof wall boarding. At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market, we sell luffa chunks for $2 each. 

Search for the green, Laurie Lynch.

March Madness, Windowsill Greenery: We have a limited supply of Fleur-de-Lys Farm luffa seeds if you’d like to give them a try.

Listen for the Green: Doug Tallamy, professor and chair of entomology and wildlife ecology, U of Delaware, and author of “Bringing Nature Home” will give a free lecture at Kutztown University’s Boehm Science Center, Room 145, March 21 at 7 p.m. Books for sale and book signing after talk.

Green with Envy:  What are friends for?  Bob Leiby, Lehigh County Cooperative Extension director and potato man, emailed asking if I had any “sprouted, spindly old potatoes” in my potato storage area that he could use for a class he was teaching. “The ones you had last year were excellent to make a point about the physiological age of potato seed.” And what about the physiological age of potato farmers, I’m feeling a little sprouted and spindly and old myself! 

Taste the Green: Remember the sauerkraut I mentioned tasting at the Pennsylvania German Cultural Heritage Center? Well, I got in touch with Becky, the woman who made the dish for Christmas at the Farm. Here is her story:

“Sauerkraut's been made for probably thousands of years just by using two ingredients, cabbage and salt. And that's all I use.”

Sauerkraut

5 pounds cabbage, outer leaves removed, cores removed, thinly shredded

3 Tablespoons kosher salt or sea salt (don't use salt with iodide)

Mix shredded cabbage and salt thoroughly. Let stand for 10 minutes to wilt. Transfer to crock. Using a potato masher, crush cabbage until juice forms and comes to the surface. The traditional way to weight down the kraut is to spread a clean, washable cloth directly on it. Tuck edges in all around. Place a plate that just fits inside crock so the cabbage is not exposed to air. Place a weight – stone, brick or a glass jar filled with water – on top. Check the kraut every few days. Fermentation causes gases and bubbles. Remove scum as it appears on the top, wash cloth and plate, and put back on top.

At a temperature of 68-72°, the kraut could be ready to eat in 3-4 weeks. Eat, can or freeze after this time period.

“This kraut is so much milder than the stuff in the bag or can. It's got a slight crunch, not mushy. I usually rinse mine before cooking with it to remove extra salt,” Becky suggests. “Modern adaptation: Place plastic food storage bags filled with water to weigh down the cabbage. The object is to keep the cabbage under the brine and to seal it from the air to prevent mold.

“For the recipe I used at Christmas, I really just eyeball the ingredients and taste. It's based on old recipes I've seen. I used my homemade sauerkraut on the bottom of the pot. I added a tablespoon or two of brown sugar, chopped apples, some apple cider, and a handful of onions. I placed the turkey on top and simmered that night over the fire. I had precooked the turkey that night for demonstration purposes. Turkey or goose and sauerkraut were a very traditional 19^th-century way to eat Christmas dinner.”

Green (as in inexperienced) with Blogs: I’ve gotten several emails from people who have tried to become “followers” but can’t, as well as those who have left comments that disappear. I’m trying to root out the problem. In the meantime, if anyone has any ideas, please let me know.

Fleur-de-DozenRoses

I’ve always felt that counting your blessings was better than counting long-stem roses in a box. I’ve assembled 12 of my recent "roses" to share with you. In the coming year, make the time to enjoy your own bouquet, filling it with new places, fond memories, nature, nurture, home cooking, celebration, reflection, humor, music, friends, family, and faith.

1.  My first rose or gift to you would be the inspiration to visit one of nature’s cathedrals. You need not travel further than your backyard, but in early December my son Richard and I were fortunate enough to be invited to Tiburon, CA, across the bay from San Francisco. You might remember our hostess, Trig, from an earlier newsletter on "Brownie Points".  We saw her in action, delivering boxes of her brownies to the Golden Gate tollbooth workers and hotel doormen, as she gave us a tour of the city that claims her heart. The place that claimed my heart was Muir Woods. Talk about long stems … my baby, 6'6" Richard, and the redwoods.

2. Wisdom is a rose, especially when it's easy to remember. At Domaine Chandon winery in the Napa Valley, we learned about The Half Rule. This can encourage you to visit a local winery, even at the last minute, when you have the urge to celebrate with something bubbly … and it prevents freezer explosions.

The Half Rule: To chill a warm bottle of sparkling wine, fill a bucket half with ice, half with water, and partially submerge the bottle for half an hour … and it’s ready to open.

To Open: Peel off plastic/metal covering. Keeping your palm over the wire crown and cork, make six twists to unwind the wire tail. Then, gently turn the bottle, keeping the cork cupped firmly in your hand until the cork releases. It should release with a whisper, not a pop. (Note: This takes some muscle and patience, but don’t worry, you have both!)

3.

Domaine Chandon Herbed Cream Cheese Spread

8 oz. cream cheese

2 oz. blue cheese

1 Tbsp. chopped walnuts

1 Tbsp. chopped chives

1 Tbsp. chopped parsley

Chop walnuts, chives and parsley briefly in food processor. Toss together with crumbled blue cheese and mix well. Process cream cheese until creamy; add blue cheese and walnut mixture; blend until thoroughly combined. DO NOT OVER MIX. Serve with French bread or crackers.

4. Marina came home from Vesalius College, Brussels, for the holidays and her beau Ziggy joined us for two weeks. On his first visit to the U.S. Ziggy wanted to see the White House, Times Square on New Year’s Eve, and the field where the Woodstock Festival took place.

On the spur of the moment, I decided to chauffeur them on a day trip to the Bethel (NY) Woods Center for the Arts, located on the bluff of what was once Max Yasgur’s dairy farm and, in August of 1969, three days of peace and music. The exhibit at the center (closed for the winter, reopening April 2) features artifacts, photographs, recordings, and newsreel footage from the festival and the times, setting the social, cultural, political, and music scene of the Sixties. Earlier in the month, I read a quote by Anita Milner: "I’m now old enough to personally identify every object in antique stores." As I was leaving Bethel Woods, I realized I was old enough to have the years of my youth featured in a MUSEUM.

5. A woman in my faith-sharing group really saved me this Christmas. Terry always brings great snacks and reflections to our get-togethers. This holiday she brought jars of Sugar-Coated Pecans, with the recipe attached. One nibble and I was hooked, and I whipped up batches for all of my relatives.

Terry’s Sugar-Coated Pecans

1 egg white

1 Tbsp. water

1 lb. pecan halves

1 cup sugar

¾ tsp. salt

½ tsp. ground cinnamon

Preheat oven to 250° F. Grease one baking sheet. In mixing bowl, whisk together egg white and water until frothy. In a separate bowl, mix together sugar, salt, and cinnamon. Add pecans to egg whites and stir to coat evening. Remove the nuts and toss them in the sugar mixture until well coated. Spread nuts on prepared baking sheet. Bake at 250° for 1 hour. Stir every 15 minutes. Store in airtight jars.

6. Sometimes you just have to breathe deep and make permanent the memories. If you have ever driven in the Fleur-de-Lys neighborhood at night between Thanksgiving and New Year’s, you undoubtedly have seen Clarence’s Christmas display at the former Eagle Point Hotel.  This year I was taken by the magic it seemed to hold over Magoo the Bouvier. I’d take him out for his nightly sit (no, I didn’t forget an h) – he’d sit on the hill next to the carriage house and just watch and listen to the tiny, twinkling lights and the tinny songs, a maze of motion and merriment – captivated. Then, when a car passed by, we’d hear, "Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas," and he’d cock his head and wonder. Each night we repeated our ritual as I drank in the scene so it would last me a lifetime. 

7. A musical rose blossomed the night my nephew Andre performed his guitar solo "Marie". The energy and tempo of the instrumental composition matched that of his grandmother, the matriarch of the Fedon family, and won her instant approval. (That's Marie and some of her boys with the Nittany Lion. Andre is in the middle, riding the lion.)

8. In December, my friend Dina, her son, and I went to the Pennsylvania German Cultural Heritage Center for Christmas on the Farm. The center, part of Kutztown University, captures rural life on an 1800s farm. It was a charming event where we tasted old-fashioned treats and got spooked by Belsnickel. On New Year’s Day, Dina had a gang over for traditional pork and sauerkraut. She was inspired by the sauerkraut we tasted at the Heritage Center that was cooked with apples over a wood fire in the kitchen hearth. Historical authenticity isn’t as high on Dina’s list as convenience. To prepare the feast she opened a pouch of store-bought sauerkraut, dumped it in a pot on her stove top, tossed in chopped apples, sprinkled some brown sugar, added a pork roast, and cooked it for a good, long simmer. We all had seconds and thirds.

9.  I started 2011 with knee surgery and a new insurance deductible – who says we don’t need health care reform? The evening after my surgery, with Marina as my nurse, I was sacked out on the living room couch, knee iced and propped up by pillows. As I rested there in the dark, I listened to Ziggy preparing a special "thank you" meal for me. This fellow knows his way around a restaurant kitchen, so he was completely at ease in mine. The lights were low, the pellet stove was burning, and yeah, I was on some heavy-duty painkillers. I lay there listening to the chopping, dicing, and whipping, and I enjoyed a symphony of sounds that created a musical masterpiece, as well as a culinary one.

10. Ziggy prepared a "starter," followed with a steak fit for the Queen of Fleur-de-Lys, and finally, strawberries dipped in white chocolate, mousse, and a luscious berry puree.

Ziggy’s  Starter

(Serves 4)

Chop a half bulb of fennel in little cubes and cut bacon in tiny slices. Saute until the fennel softens and then add a bit of cream. Make sure the cream does not cover the fennel-bacon mixture. As it starts cooking, remove from stove and add enough Parmesan cheese so that everything sticks together.

Sauce: Take two egg yolks and add a tiny bit of vinegar and water in saucepan. Beat the mixture until it foams. Then heat on the stove at a low temperature, and keep beating. Just before it starts to cook, you take it off the heat (otherwise you have a scrambled egg). Add pepper, salt, and ''some of that lovely pesto of yours … hehe!"
       
Scallops (12 large): Salt and pepper scallops and then grill at a high temperature for about 45 seconds on each side "otherwise you’ll get ping-pong balls, haha.''

Assemble:  Center a portion of the fennel mixture on a salad plate and sprinkle with watercress. Top with three scallops. Spoon a pool of sauce on either side. "Voila."

"I'm sorry I don’t have exact amounts," he wrote the other day. "I never really do but I'm sure you'll make it perfectly fine. The only hard part is the sauce. It's the same method as making a béarnaise sauce. Smakelijk!" (Flemish for "bon appetit!")

11.  When Celso returned from the holidays in Brasil, he brought with him homegrown and home-preserved gifts from his mother, Tania. The first was a jar of preserved guava with cloves that I savored for a week or so mixed with yogurt for breakfast. Then, there was a bag of  "pinches" – teeny guava-filled pastries, about the size of peanuts. They were gone in a day or two. Tania knows I have a passion for guava, and I can’t wait until May when we can find other common loves (besides Celso, of course). She and her husband are visiting for Celso’s graduation from Kutztown University.

12. "The heart is forever unfaithful, and the feelings of love will come and go, but true love is not about what you feel. It is about what you do."  "The Lost Diary of Don Juan" by Douglas C. Abrams

A bouquet for your thoughts – Laurie Lynch

Fleur-de-Shadow

 

Back in the days of Woodstock, my mother opened The Country Sampler in the sleepy village of Boalsburg in Central PA. While others were dabbling in psychedelia, I was a very un-hip teenager, wrapping gifts and helping with cooking demonstrations at “The Sampler”. 

One year my mother hosted Elaine Light from nearby Punxsutawney who had written a cookbook entitled “Gourmets and Groundhogs”. My mother sold the book at her shop, along with groundhog cookie cutters. That was when my mother and I began baking groundhog cookies for shop customers every February 2.

The groundhog cookie tradition traveled with me from Central PA to the Lehigh Valley, where my husband and I began our family. Nonna passed the tradition of Punxsutawney Phil and groundhog cookies to Marina and Richard, as well as her 10 other grandchildren. The kids took groundhog cookies to school in their lunch bags, and sometimes I sent in a whole batch for their classmates to celebrate our Pennsylvania winter holiday.

In the early 1990s, as a new mother, I began working part-time for a volunteer gardening organization in the Lehigh Valley. We needed an inexpensive way to recognize the dedication of our volunteers, and decided on a yearly potluck with special awards. December was too busy a month. January, too frozen. We seized upon the idea of holding the celebration on Groundhog’s Day, winter’s turning point for garden lovers to contemplate spring. To continue the theme, I ordered groundhog cookie cutters from The Country Sampler. At the ceremony, I dressed in tails and a top hat, a fellow gardener brought a stuffed groundhog, and I asked the new class members questions about groundhogs. With each correct answer the trainee would get a cookie cutter. And, of course, we served groundhog cookies for dessert. Believe it or not, the get-together continues today.

The years went by, and groundhog cookies went to Women’s Winter Weekends, Kutztown school events, Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market, and filled our home kitchen with a wonderful spicy molasses scent (not to mention filling our tummies).

As I entered 2011 alone in our farmhouse, I needed a pick-me-up. My soon-to-be-ending marriage was reduced to stacks of documents shuffling back and forth between attorneys. Knee surgery and snowstorms kept me inside, so I started baking groundhog cookies.

The first batch was mailed to Brussels so Marina and friends could partake of the silly Pennsylvania custom. Our Brasilian “son” Celso stopped by to help with farm chores and got his yearly dose. Richard visited and gobbled a few. And, of course, I’ve been  “tasting” them as well, to make sure they are as good as I remember.

At Kutztown University’s health fair last week, I picked up a packet of simple activities for dementia patients called Mind, Body and Soul. I was headed to State College for my monthly visit with my mother who is suffering from the disease, and my mind focused once again on groundhog cookies. It seemed the perfect diversion to share with my mother, as she had shared with me 40 years before. A bit of nostalgia, and sweet treats to eat.

On Friday I arrived in State College with a Ziploc of the cookie dough, and on Saturday, began rolling out portions between layers of waxed paper. I cut out our beloved groundhog cookies and I placed them in rows on parchment-covered cookie sheets. Then my mother joined in. She “painted” each one with a slightly beaten Fleur-de-Lys egg wash and pressed a raisin “eye” on each cookie. Then we slid the trays into the oven. Through it all, a circular conversation swirled in the kitchen.

What are these?  Groundhog cookies.

They’re really thick. Shouldn’t they be thinner? They’ll be fine.

Oops, that one lost a tail. No problem, we can fix it.

Where did you learn to make these? You taught me.

Are these rabbits? No, they’re groundhogs.

They’re coming out of the oven like Grant took Richmond. Why are you baking so many?  For the Groundhog’s Day party.

Where is the party? Seipstown Grange.

Are you going? Yes, and so are you.

Where did you get the mold? From The Country Sampler.

Oh, my old store. Yes.

Should I put the eyes on now? Sure.

These raisins are really big. The better to see you with, my dear.

Why are you making these cookies? For Groundhog’s Day.

Where did you get this recipe? From you.

Oh, I just have to try one. They’re kind of hard … but tasty.  Good.

And on it went. I lined up our treasured cookies on the trays, and she painted and placed the raisins. Row after row. Then, with my mind somewhere else, I slid one of the cutouts upside down amongst the others.

“That one’s upside down. You’d better watch out, I might just put a belly button on it.”

It made me smile. Laurie Lynch

Spicy Groundhogs

2 cups flour

½ tsp. salt

½ tsp. baking soda

1 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. ground ginger

1 tsp. ground cloves

1 ½ tsp. cinnamon

½ cup soft butter

1 cup sugar

½ cup molasses

1 egg yolk

1 egg, slightly beaten

Raisins

Sift flour, salt, soda, baking powder, and spices together and set aside. Cream butter and sugar until fluffy. Blend in molasses and egg yolk. Stir in flour mixture and mix well. Form into ball and wrap in plastic. Chill overnight. Roll out a small amount at a time between waxed paper to avoid sticking. Cut out groundhog shapes with floured cutter. Place on parchment-lined cookie sheets. Brush with slightly beaten egg. Decorate with raisins. Bake 8 to 10 minutes in 350° oven. (Depending on the thickness, I bake them 10-12 minutes.) Cool before removing from sheet. Place in tin for storage.

Groundhog Cookie Tasting: At Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market, 440 Hottenstein Road, Kutztown, on Wednesday, Feb. 2. If the roads are too icy, we'll continue into Thursday.

Groundhog Cookie Cutters:  Available from H.O. Foose Tinsmithing Company, 18 West Poplar St., Fleetwood, PA 19522 or on the Web at foosecookiecutters.com

Fleur-de-Lys Farm Market: Open for egg sales throughout the winter. Stop by or call ahead for availability, (610) 683-6418.

Written in Slate: “We can do no great things, just small things with great love. It is not how much you do, but how much love you put into doing it.” – Mother Teresa

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!