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