Rhubarb Swirl Cake

I took several lessons straight to heart as a young Connecticut country kid. One was that foraging for random things in the woods was a great way to get poison ivy on your hands (oh the misery). And that running around barefoot all summer in the clover covered lawn was a guarantee of many bee stings to the toes, which I now file under -- wish that was still a problem. And lastly – don’t ever, ever eat rhubarb’s toxic leaves.

My good friend Sarah, another city transplant who grew up in the fields of Connecticut’s countryside, said she also remembered foraging for rhubarb in the springtime. Once snatched up, she would dip the raw stalk briefly into the sugar bowl before each bite. (Pro tip)

Even now, I could lead you by the hand with my eyes closed to the place where the rhubarb grows. Each spring it matures in an uncultivated space on the right side of my mother’s garden, just outside the fence. There, it mingles with weeds, and grasses, and pricker bushes, waiting to be plucked and tucked into something sweet.

The rhubarb arriving every year was something I always looked forward to. The deep satisfaction of the seasons changing seemed to be important to me, even then. It’s arrival meant that the weather was getting warmer, school was almost over, summer was so close you could smell it. It meant that we were going strawberry picking so soon. However, I have no associations with actually consuming it. You see, my mother never really did anything with her rhubarb.

I wish I could tell you all that I have fond memories of strawberry rhubarb pies swirling around in my springtime memories of growing up. But in truth, it seems my mama wasn’t ever too big on pie. Which is why I’m probably not too big on pie. I have no consistent culinary memory link to it. I have one vague recollection of her making a crisp.

Rhubarb was one of the first things I picked up at the farmer’s market last year when I started going. I picked it up with only faint purpose since I had no idea what I was going to do with it. I knew it was seasonal, I knew it was fleeting and still --- those seem to be only two things I need to know to spend my entire savings account at a market stand. I ended up making this. And then I made it a few more times with the rhubarb I’d begged my mother to pick from her garden and freeze for me. A few weeks ago when I was not-so-patiently waiting for rhubarb and strawberries to show up, buried within my too full freezer I discovered a baggie of both rhubarb and strawberries from last summer --- a bonafide win. They soon found themselves stirred into a pot with some vanilla to make some more. I have new associations and now (strawberry) rhubarb compote means that spring is here.

Once I finally got my hands on some actual rhubarb, swirling some saucy fresh stuff into some cake was definitely an upgrade. Say you want those swirls even more shockingly pink, (if you couldn’t tell by my instagram feed), strawberries are here people(!!!) Use this compote recipe to swirl in instead. I, however, really liked the puckery rhubarb all by itself. I also love this rhubarb sauce’s demure shade of pink. Almost like it’s not quite calling attention to itself until it hits your tongue and it’s an explosion of pleasant tartness.

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Rhubarb Swirl Cake

adapted from this recipe by Cannelle et Vanille

Yield: 1 nine inch square cake

Ingredients:

Rhubarb sauce:

2 cups diced rhubarb

½ cup raw sugar

juice of half a lemon

Cake:

3 eggs

1 cup raw sugar

1 cup full fat greek yogurt

1/2 cup melted unsalted butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 cup white rice flour

1/2 cup millet flour

2 tablespoons tapioca starch

1 tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

powdered sugar for sprinkling (if desired)

Directions:

In a small saucepan over low to medium heat stir together the diced rhubarb, ½ cup of sugar, and the lemon juice. Stir occasionally. Keep at a simmer. It will take about 30 minutes for the rhubarb to breakdown and come to desired consistency. Once it is thick and jammy, turn off heat and allow to cool down a bit.

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

Line a 9-inch square cake pan with parchment paper.

Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together the eggs, sugar, yogurt, melted butter, and vanilla extract.

Add in the white rice flour, millet flour, tapioca starch, baking powder and salt. Whisk again to thoroughly incorporate.

Pour into the cake pan and spread it out evenly.

Dollop four thick lines of the rhubarb compote onto the top of the batter. Using a toothpick, knife, or skewer drag through the rhubarb lines to create a swirling design throughout the top of the cake.

Bake cake for 40 to 45 minutes minutes or until it’s edges have turned golden brown and a cake tester comes out clean.

Let cake cool in pan. Using the edges of the parchment paper, lift the cake out of the pan. Dust with powdered sugar, if desired. Cut into squares.

Note: You will probably have some rhubarb compote left over. Swirl it into other things like yogurt or ice cream or oatmeal. Sometimes I just eat it with a spoon, but that’s just me.

Sunday Morning Reads

For your Sunday morning cuppa joe

pro tip: cutting up a peach {tasting table}

for the someday when i have big fat lawn for a garden and chickens {homesteading freedom}

feedback on the dan barber’s “garbage” burgers {grubstreet}

food carts get sustainably solar {wired}

brilliant read on modern romance {time}

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, salads are only boring if you’re not trying hard enough {bon appetit}

how to clean your le creuset {epicurious}

guilty (how not to spend your retirement savings at the farmer’s market) {the kitchn}

Monday Market Haul - 6/1/2015

strawberries, buttermilk, spinach, asparagus, rhubarb, and dill

it starts with a crick in the wrist. the left one. the one nearly forgotten, was broken midair on a trampoline at age eleven. don’t think much of it.

the cat, hot and miserable, lays in the middle of the coffee table. somehow this is a respite, or probably, she just wants to hangout.

but then suddenly, too early for the sun to be setting, it gets so dark. it’s gloomy and a welcomed breeze sets in. the air becomes damp and heavy.

the cat disappears. under the bed --- just in time for the first lightning strike and rumble of thunder.

with a whoosh, the skies let loose and the sound is rhythmic and lulling and uncharacteristically pleasing in the moment. the allowance for a lazy sunday afternoon. wafting through the window, it would be nice if the air smelled a little less of wet garbage, and a little more like wet grass, and mulch, and wood. the way it did in the "old" days.

with a lovely, guiltless, dreary afternoon of really good television under the belt, dinner needs to get made. the chicken bought that morning is somehow rancid. partners in most things, hands are held in the evening’s drizzle on the stroll back to the market. in the moment, the lightning strikes far off in the distance don’t seem foreboding...

leaving the market with a fresh pack, the skies have erupted again. adult-like considerations are assessed. wait it out? are these shoes good for running? can these clothes get wet?

fuck it.

a frenzied four block dash ensues. and then maybe, just maybe, before dipping inside, a quick kiss is stolen in the rain.

---

what happened to summer? i promise it’s still here, just look at that market haul!

Sunday Morning Reads

For your Sunday morning cuppa joe

do you know the mother sauces? {lucky peach}

common farmer's market mistakes {bon appetit} 

a butcher on grass fed beef {food republic}

the science of canning {lucky peach}

can't wait to stock my freezer with roasted peppers {tasting table}

cooking with "endangered foods  " {food republic}

interesting food words {first we feast}

secret to a great cookbook {npr}

farm to table: what it takes  {ICE blog}

how to make butter {bon appetit}

Spring Vegetable Brown Fried Rice

Do you smell it? Let’s try and guess what I might be talking about.

Am I talking about the May flowers that are making our eyes water and our noses sniffle? Perhaps I'm speaking of freshly cut grass or the smell of burgers sizzling on a grill. You probably don’t know what I'm talking about because you live somewhere beautiful and green and sane.

No. No, instead I’m talking about what Deb Perelman of smitten kitchen aptly describes in a post of hers as “eau de hot trash.” A distinct sign of rising temperatures in New York City, the overflowing trash buckets begin to literally bake in the sun. By 10a.m., if you close your eyes you might think you’ve commuted directly into a landfill.

Planning on visiting our fair city this summer or one day soon? Don't worry, you get used to it.

It seems that we’ve all but totally skipped spring. I’m not totally unhappy about it because I love this stinking hot weather and like I said, you get used to it. I like to think of myself as a cold blooded reptile. Now I can slither out to a nice sunny rock (my mother’s deck) and warm up my bones. You know what else likes this sunny weather? Strawberries. In season local strawberries, literally sunkissed and still warm to the touch, are worth these smelly, smelly mornings. They just started popping up at the New York greenmarkets and soon I will take a drive with my mother and we will handpick and drag home way too many pounds of them. Strawberries also mean that not far off in our futures are those other elusive summer standbys. In other words --- I’m dying for an August tomato.

This doesn’t mean that I’m sick of springtime’s well-timed fare. It arrives just when you’re about to go nuts that your market haul was a handful of wintered-over carrots and past-their-prime apples. Fresh and green comes to save you in the form of asparagus, peas, and the ever exclusive ramp. These three spring stars are the basis for this quick fried rice-esque side. Since ramp season is fleeting and just about over, feel free to sub any other springtime allium in if you can't find them anywhere. I also made it once with quinoa and it was just as good. Super simple, super seasonal, with minimal time spent at the stove. Plus, with similarities to the stuff that you can grab at your corner Chinese joint, it is so, so good cold from the fridge.

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Spring Vegetable Brown Fried Rice

Ingredients:

3 tablespoons neutral oil like avocado oil for sauteing

2 eggs

salt

1 cup chopped ramps (can sub spring garlic, spring onions, or garlic scapes)

1 cup asparagus chopped into 1-inch pieces

1 cup frozen or fresh peas

2 cups cooked brown rice (or white rice, or quinoa)

soy sauce to taste

sesame oil to taste

Directions:

In oiled pan over high heat, crack the eggs directly into pan as if you were going to fry them. Season with a bit of salt. Let the whites set for a few seconds then puncture the yolk with the spatula and begin to pan scramble them. Once the eggs are fully cooked remove from pan and set aside.

Add a bit more oil to the same pan and add the vegetables. Season them with a bit of salt. Saute over high heat until asparagus is bright green, peas have thawed, and ramps have wilted. This will take 2 to 3 minutes at the most. Once cooked, remove from pan and set aside.

Add a bit more oil to the pan and then add cooked rice to the pan. Stir rice to coat in oil and reheat. If you aren’t using a nonstick pan, the rice will probably stick a bit. Just do your best to scrape it up as you go. Once rice is fully broken up and heated through and beginning to “fry”, add the eggs and vegetables to the pan with the rice. Drizzle a touch of sesame oil onto the stir fry and a couple dashes of soy sauce to taste.

Stir the sesame oil and soy sauce into the stir fry to incorporate. Taste for seasoning, add more soy sauce if needed. Once all components are fully combined, remove from heat and serve.

Serves 4 to 6 as a side. Add protein to bump to a main.

Sunday Morning Reads

For your Sunday morning cuppa joe

the power of fermentation {lucky peach}

love these life hacks {buzzfeed}

cooking with waste {food52}

^related or "i wish i had a garden" {food52}

australia making moves on the food pyramid {food and wine}

raising kids on a farm  {lucky peach}

lower your contribution to the california drought by eating locally {ny times}

the real reasons new york bagels are the best {first we feast}

Ramp Ricotta Meatballs

At what point do we all start getting indignant about turning on an oven? At what point do the words meatballs and braise sound too heavy and hot to bear even listening to just because the warmth outside has climbed beyond our collective comfort zone?

I've never been one to not cook because it’s too hot outside. Not sure if you remember, but I had my oven ripping during a heatwave at the end of August in name of pulled pork for dinner. It was so hot in my kitchen that whipping cream refused to whip and these baked peaches had some very lackluster cream drizzle as their garnish. In actuality it was way too hot to have my oven going that day. But that was at the end of August --- very different from these end of spring chilly mornings.

I, for one, have had no problem packing these babies up these past chilly mornings. To top it off, I don’t know about your offices, but mine borders on arctic level temperatures most days. It’s nice sometimes to inhale something comforting and warming after spending the morning with numb fingertips.

I’d also like to think of them as a transition food. They could be considered winter fare for sure. But that springy dollop of ramp ricotta folded into the meat mix not only keeps them moist but adds a fresh spring spin on something normally considered hearty.

While I nestled these little nuggets among some sturdy kale, they would be just as tasty on a bed of fresh baby spinach  leaves which would really lighten the meal up to spring standards. Truthfully, they would also easily fit in among some red sauce --- spaghetti and meatball status, but that brings up unwanted memories of harsh winter weather, which I am desperately trying to forget.

Let’s dismiss that from our minds together and focus on all of the ramps, and peas, and spinach, and rhubarb this spring has brought us!

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Ramp Ricotta Meatballs

with garlicky braised kale

Ingredients:

1 egg, beaten

¼ cup almond flour or oats

½ cup leftover roasted ramp ricotta (recipe can be found within here)

salt and pepper

1 pound ground meat

olive oil for frying

2 bunches kale, chopped into 1-inch pieces (approximately 6 cups)

3 cloves garlic, minced

1 cup chicken stock

¼ cup shredded parmesan

dash of butter

red pepper flakes, if desired

Directions:

(Recipe for ramp ricotta can be found within this recipe)

In a large bowl, mix beaten egg, almond flour, ramp ricotta, and salt and pepper until well combined. Add in the ground meat and begin to gently incorporate until well combined.  Take care not to overwork the meat, let’s keep it tender up in here.

Roll tablespoonfuls of the meat mix into golf ball sized meatballs. You should get about 25 balls out of this.

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

Once the meatballs have been rolled, heat olive oil in a medium to large ovenproof skillet over medium heat. When oil is hot enough, begin browning meatballs one small batch at a time. Brown the meatballs on all sides and set on a paper-towel lined plate to drain. Continue in batches until all meatballs are browned. Set aside.

Immediately add kale to the same pan. You may have to do this in batches as kale wilts down. Toss to coat in olive oil and meat fat. Salt and pepper to taste. Once kale has wilted down a bit, make a space in the middle of the skillet and add in minced garlic. Saute until fragrant and then mix into the kale. Add the cup of chicken broth, butter, and the parmesan. Stir. Season to taste, add pepper flakes here if desired.

Remove skillet from heat and nestle those little meatballs into the kale mix. Garnish with a bit more parm if desired and then throw into the oven to braise for about 15 minutes.  Serve.

Serves 4 to 6

Monday Market Haul - 5/18/2015

Carrots, shallots, lilacs, lacinato kale, rhubarb, asparagus

It’s been about a year since I started looking into eating locally and seasonally. I don’t quite remember what started it all. Was it an article on supporting local organic farming? A TED talk on sustainability? What’s this C-S-A thing I keep hearing about? It may have been an impassioned archived blog post or two from the likes of smitten kitchen about the taste of an August tomato.

Although I hadn’t thought about it that way before, I knew exactly what she meant. Suddenly it all clicked. It all made sense. I had grown up picking summer tomatoes from my mother’s garden. I remember hauling zucchinis the size of my leg up the back lawn to the kitchen for dinner. I like to tell people I was eating kale before it was cool, because some of my fondest memories of summer dinner was eating wilted kale with garlic over pasta on the deck overlooking mama’s bountiful garden. Every year (still!) my mom and I get up early one morning in June, drive 45 minutes to a local farm and pick strawberries right off the vine. They're still warm from the sun and they taste like the absolute essence of summer. I already had all the puzzle pieces rolling around inside me, they just needed to click into place.

I haven’t looked back --- eating and cooking seasonally and locally has led me to gain new perspectives, forage a whole new life path, and help to solidify my passion in food. I couldn’t do it without having such lucky, easy access to one of the best farmers’ market in the city. So what I’m really saying is:

Happy 45th birthday GrowNYC! My life wouldn’t be the same without you!