Plum Cake, for Rosh Hashanah or any other day

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by Caroline

plums before

You know how it goes. The school year begins and suddenly the calendar fills up: parent association meetings; soccer practices and games; school fundraisers. You try to get friends over for dinner and it takes a dozen emails and weeks of planning. Except, every once in a while, it comes together quickly, magically, like it did for us last night, in a matter of three text messages with a friend:

#1: “Can we swing by after temple to pick up your tent?”
#2: “Sure. Stay for dinner?”
#3: “Love to!”

And just like that, I had an outlet for the beautiful black and red plums from our CSA, and an excuse to try the plum cake recipe my Mom had spotted and emailed to me, captivated by the accompanying story about the author’s search for a way to update a beloved sour cherry cake recipe. The cake is a snap to make, requires no fancy ingredients
(you could skip the demerara sugar topping if your pantry isn’t stocked, like mine, with six kinds of sugar), and tastes delicious. Even the kids, who are generally skeptical of cooked fruit, enjoyed it (with the exception of one, who preferred the traditional apple slices dipped in honey). Again and again, we’re reminded, food is stories. For me, now, the story of this plum cake is of an impromptu holiday dinner with old friends. We may have to make a tradition of it.

plums after

Garbage Salad

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by Caroline

critical tools for garbage salad

When I was in 3rd grade, I ate lunch with my dad nearly every weekday. Although my school day went to 3 PM, the school didn’t permit children to eat lunch at school until 4th grade. I remember my mom grumbling that this was a conspiracy to keep moms from working outside the home, and she endured it awhile, but finally when her youngest child (me) hit eight, and having been out of the workforce since her oldest child was born (sixteen years earlier) my mom was ready to get back to work. She cobbled together a schedule for me of lunchtime playdates with friends and — since her job didn’t allow her the flexibility to drive home for lunch each day, but my father’s did — Lunch with Dad.

Lunch with Dad was great. We would sit at the dining room table, he at the end and me around the corner next to him, and play double solitaire between bites. I have no recollection of my meals – a rotating menu of sandwiches, I expect — but Dad always made what he dubbed Garbage Salad. He’d start with a plate, a big carrot and maybe one of the enormous white daikon radishes he’d grown in our front yard, and the box grater. He’d grate himself a bed of vegetables, then rummage in the fridge for good-looking leftovers and toss those on top, together with perhaps a scoop of cottage cheese and a sprinkling of peanuts and a splash of vinaigrette. He ate this nearly every day when he was home, the ingredients varying with the seasons and the contents of our refrigerator. Now that I don’t have kids coming home for lunch any more (happily, mine are fed well at school, from kindergarten on), I find myself reaching for the box grater, looking for good leftovers, and composing Garbage Salad, too.

You might want to rename your version of this salad, though sentiment and honesty will always keep it Garbage Salad in my house. As for the ingredients, I find people have strong feelings about cottage cheese, and while I like it well enough I’m not going to risk family harmony by bringing any into the house. Today, my version of Dad’s salad used more salad greens, because our CSA share is bursting with lettuces, plus a shredded beet, a shredded kohlrabi, a tomato, some leftover stir-fried green beans and some toasted pumpkin seeds. Sometimes I take the time to boil an egg and chop that into the salad, sometimes I toss in some cannellini beans. Tonight, we’re roasting potatoes for dinner, so any leftovers will likely go into tomorrow’s salad. The main thing is to get out that box grater and some shreddable vegetables – carrots, summer squash, beets, kohlrabi, parsley root, radish – and start with that base, because as my Dad taught me, they soak up your vinaigrette and make a delicious bed for just about anything you find to put on top.

Root Beer Float x 2

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by Lisa

We have a great debate going in our house: which goes in a root beer float first, the ice cream or the soda?

This has been an ongoing experiment all summer long, since we discovered Trader Joe’s has a good bottled root beer (& a caffeine free cola that’s pretty terrific, too.) We don’t drink bottled soda as rule around here (although we do indulge in homemade kidtinis), but I’ve been making an exception lately and I keep a few bottles of this soda on hand for fun and nostalgia.  It’s great for a weekend cocktail and floats make for an easy, fun dessert in the hot weather.  Especially for guests and grandparents.  Lately, about once a week Ella will mix up a cherry coke before dinner or we’ll have root beer floats after dinner.

In our effort to settle the ice cream/soda debate, we stumbled upon Bobby Flay’s adult version, which includes bourbon and is pretty much the perfect end to a barbeque if you’re a grown-up.

To wit, our method is this, and involves floating the ice cream on the soda. But you put the ice cream in first and get a slightly creamier drink.

Fill a large frosty mug with root beer (and a little crushed ice if you like. It’s nice if it’s colder, but it also gets in the way).  Float 1 scoop vanilla ice cream on the soda.  If you’re an adult, add a up to a shot of bourbon over the ice cream. Top the ice cream with fresh whipped cream.



For adults only

Sweet Corn and Pepper Cheddar Pizza

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by Lisa

We make pizza often–close to once a week and usually on the grill, usually with more or less traditional italian toppings. But this pizza was one of those dishes that came together because of what we had on hand:  1/2 a red pepper, a few ears of corn, a bag of herbed pizza dough from Trader Joe’s, and a good Irish cheddar.  It has become one of my new favorite pizzas. Afterwards I discovered that my creation is not unusual, but that’s all the more reason for you to try it. It’s a  fast and easy pie full of late summer’s bounty: sweet white corn, bright red peppers, fresh herbs layered over a not-too-sharp cheddar cheese.  It’s deliciously savory pie, tempered by the sweetness of the corn and peppers, and the colors are beautiful. It’s a perfect way end to these days that hover lovingly between summer and fall.

Of course, you can do this with any dough, but an herbed dough works especially well.  Try adding oregano, basil, marjoram, etc. to your own, or find a premade one that you love.

  • 1 recipe herbed pizza dough
  • 2 ears sweet white or yellow corn
  • 1/2 red pepper, very thinly sliced
  • polenta or coarse corn meal for sprinkling pan
  • a few ounces, to taste, white cheddar cheese

Preheat oven to 450 degrees.

Cook the corn for about one minute in boiling water, then turn off the heat and let the corn sit for 5 minutes. Cool and then cut the kernals off the cob.

Lightly sprinkle cooking surface (pizza stone or cookie sheet) with corn meal or polenta.

Roll out the dough on a lightly floured surface, then transfer to pizza stones or cookie sheet.

Top with a light layer of cheddar cheese, sliced red peppers and corn. Be careful not to add too much cheese–you want the cheese to blend the ingredients, not overpower them.

Bake at 450 degrees until cheese is melted and crust is nicely crisp and brown.


Learning to Eat: Kohlrabi

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by Caroline

Every summer, we visit my parents so we can glory in East Coast summer weather, grandparental (and parental) affection, and the abundance of my father’s garden. Depending on when we arrive, we might be gorging on berries or potatoes, and this year my dad promised both, but he also offered kohlrabi, a crop he had tried for the first time. “I hope you will pack your favorite kohlrabi recipes,” he emailed me before we arrived.

Well. Favorite cookie recipes, favorite muffin recipes, sure, but I had to Google kohlrabi to even know what it looks like. I’ll save you that step:

kohlrabi growing
kohlrabi on the way to the kitchen

So, as it turns out, kohlrabi is something like a turnip and something like a radish: crunchy and refreshing, with a slightly sharp tang. It’s delicious, and pretty versatile: you can eat it raw, grated into salad (recipe below), you can cook and eat the leaves (which we did, flavored with a little soy sauce and sesame oil), you can cut it into sticks and roast them (we did that, too) or make it into a gratin (which we might do when it’s cooler). Because yes, our CSA is now bringing us kohlrabi every week, so it’s a good thing we’ve learned how to cook it, because now we’ve really learned to like it!

Raw Kohlrabi Salad

First, make your vinaigrette; I like Deborah Madison’s mustard vinaigrette, from the indispensable Vegetarian Cooking for Everyone:

2 tablespoons red wine vinegar, or fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons sour cream or yogurt
2 shallots, finely diced
1/3 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons snipped chives
Salt and freshly milled pepper
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
1 tablespoon Dijon mustard
3 tablespoons capers, rinsed

Combine the vinegar, shallots, garlic and 1/4 t salt in a small bowl. Let stand for 15 minutes, then whisk in the mustard, sour cream or yogurt, and oil until thick and smooth. Grind in a little pepper, then stir in the herbs and capers. Taste and adjust the seasonings if needed.

Then, peel and grate a pound or two of fresh raw kohlrabi, or use a mix of kohlrabi, parsley root, carrots, and beets — whatever vegetables you happen to have on hand. Dress with the vinaigrette and serve.

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