Creamy Goat Cheese Pasta with Asparagus at the Hip Donelson Farmer's Market

In the early days of this blog, I wrote about doing a riff on an asparagus and pasta recipe from the Everyday Food show on PBS. I didn't post a full recipe, but linked to the recipe on the show's web site. The show and its monthly magazine are long gone, and the recipe is now folded into the database for the larger Martha Stewart empire.

It's still a favorite of mine, although I usually make one of my variations rather than following it to the letter. The primary variation is what I demonstrated yesterday at the Hip Donelson Farmer's Market. The market is held every Friday and has a small -- but high-quality -- group of produce and food vendors, as well as a cafe run by a rotating list of local restaurants. There's live music and one or two cooking demonstrations offered by volunteers like me, using produce available that day from the market.

Cooking Demo at the Hip Donelson Farmer's Market

Just a quick note to say that I'll be doing a cooking demo at the Hip Donelson Farmer's Market tomorrow (Friday, May 31). The market opens at 4:00pm; my demo will start at 5:30pm. The demos at the market feature seasonal produce available that day from the farmers. Handouts with the recipe I use will be available at the demo. I will also post the recipe here afterwards.

Come on out and support local farmers and the community! For directions, see http://www.hipdonelson.com/market-maps/

'Tis the Season

Thanksgiving is behind us, and religious/cultural holidays, as well as New Year's, are ahead. For most of us, this means special-occasion foods, family heirloom foods. Feasting and snacking. Food gifting (store-bought or home-made). Increased cookie consumption, at the very least. I've been buried in work and other things, and probably will not be making much of a deal of the High Holy Days of Food this year. If I do, watch this space.

I am returning to Vivek's Supper Club this week (if you are in Nashville and would like to attend, some tickets are still available as of this writing: http://www.viveksepicureanadventures.com/supperclub. Obviously my hobby blogging content has been low, but I've been blogging for work (here and here), so the writing muse has been stretched thin. I fell down on the job with my promised topics from late summer ... just delayed, not abandoned.

In the meantime, enjoy this Ian Frazier classic on the feeding of children, read by Peter Sagal of Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me, among other creative endeavors:

Georgia Peaches in Nashville & Peach Chutney

I've lived in Tennessee a long time, but in all these years I have yet to find a decent fresh peach. It's astonishing, really. Most peaches I find at produce stands, farmers' markets, and even Whole Foods that are touted as "local" come from Kentucky or South Carolina. I don't mind a slightly distant provenance, but I'm sorry to say the peaches -- even ones from Tennessee -- aren't even very good. More often than not they aren't very sweet, or juicy, and sometimes have a weird, mealy texture. I don't think that's necessarily a function of the quality of peach that CAN be grown in those areas, but just what we wind up getting here in Nashville. I've heard Alabama peaches are good, but we don't seem to get those up here, either.

I long for the Georgia peach of my youth. I remember going to the Georgia Farmers' Market in Forest Park, just south of Atlanta and my hometown of Hapeville, GA. There were certain things we'd always load up on in the summer time in those huge outdoor sheds, peaches and watermelon being chief among them. We'd eat the peaches plain, after they'd macerated with a little sugar to form a syrup, or my mother would make peach ice cream. Of course the sepia-toned memories of childhood might make those peaches a little more tasty in retrospect than they really were, but I know they were always ripe and sweet and juicy, qualities that can be hard to find in the modern peach available to me now.

I wasn't even going to bother with peaches this year, so great was my disappointment last year. Enter The Peach Truck. Entrepreneur Stephen Rose grew up in Snellville, Georgia but was born in Ft. Valley, the epicenter of peach farming in Georgia. His aunt and uncle have a multi-generation farm in the area, Pearson Farm. Stephen's day job is in personal finance, but The Peach Truck is a sideline that grew out of his desire for Georgia peaches. He had also been disappointed by the quality of peaches in Nashville after moving to the area a couple of years ago. After describing his dilemma to his aunt & uncle, they suggested he try selling their peaches here. A year of discussion, and a spring of going door-to-door to local restaurants, and a surprisingly successful enterprise was born.

Pearson's is the peach source for some notable Atlanta restaurants, and now customers of Edley's, Burger Up, Capitol Grille, City House, and many more can enjoy creations made with Pearson's peaches.  The peaches are also available all week at the two Turnip Truck locations, and Thursday through Sunday you can buy directly from The Peach Truck itself. Stephen sets up shop from the back of a vintage pickup truck, parking in hip locales like imogene + willie in 12South, or even less hip venues like the monthly Flea Market at the Fairgrounds; you can find out where The Peach Truck is parked on any given day by following it on Twitter. In addition, this weekend they will be at the Nashville Farmers' Market, and there's currently a contest on Yelp to win a box of peaches. A bag of peaches from the truck is about 3 pounds worth and costs $6 -- about what you'd pay for gnarly Kentucky or South Carolina peaches from a produce stand. So far Stephen has been able to keep up with the burgeoning demand, and Pearson's predicts they'll be able to supply peaches through about July 15. Also, it turns out that the brutally hot weather that's causing us humans to go droopy 'round the edges is great for peaches, and this year is a bumper crop.

So what did I do with my precious booty? First, I peeled and sliced one and ate it and swooned. Then ... the dishes that usually leap to mind first when faced with a horde of fresh peaches are cobbler and pie. I did make a pie this week, and it was incredibly good. I'll probably make a cobbler with my next haul, using my mother's time-honored, super-simple Georgia cobbler recipe. (It's similar to this one on Pearson's web site:  Easy Cobbler.) Both pie and cobbler are especially delicious if you toss in a generous handful of fresh blueberries or raspberries, which come into season at the same time.

A favorite of mine, though, is Peach Chutney. Chutney can be made from many types of fruit and even vegetables; mango chutney is probably the most well-known in the U.S., owing to the ubiquity of Major Grey's Chutney in even the smallest supermarket. A Southeast Asian condiment, the chutney you usually find in the U.S. and Europe is simultaneously sweet, tart, savory, and often a little spicy. In addition to being a delicious addition to Indian dishes, chutney is terrific with chicken, pork, and some fish. It's also good on sandwiches or dolloped on cheese and crackers. It's especially good with a soft, creamy cheese like chevre or even plain cream cheese. (This last combination is kin to that Southern potluck staple of cream cheese covered in Pickapeppa or pepper jelly.)

I've used various recipes over the years, so I don't have a standard. Today I used a recipe from Epicurious.com, the parent site for Bon Appetit and the late, lamented Gourmet. I was quite pleased with the end result. Chutneys are fairly forgiving. You want the right balance of tart and sweet and heat and savory, but you can fudge things a little to make use of what you might have on hand. If you don't have white raisins but do have dark, go ahead and use the dark. For example, in this case I didn't have a whole red pepper but did have a mini red and a mini yellow, so in they went, and I didn't worry about making up the difference in volume. If I'd found the heat lacking in the final product, a pinch of red pepper flakes would have set things right.

Chutney is best made with peaches that are slightly underripe. When I snagged my 2 bags on Saturday, I was advised that they still needed ripening, and that they'd be ready to eat in a day or two. Actually, it was Tues before they were OK to eat out of hand, and by Wednesday they were perfect. On Monday evening, though, they were just right for chutney.

Fresh Peach Chutney

adapted from Epicurious.com
1/2 cup cider vinegar
3/4 cup loosely packed brown sugar
1 large sweet red pepper, seeded & diced (about 1/2 cup)
1 small white onion diced (about 1/2 cup)
1 small jalapeño pepper, seeded & minced (2 tablespoons)
1/3 cup white raisins
1 tablespoon finely chopped garlic
1 tablespoon grated ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 pounds firm (not completely ripe), fresh peaches, peeled & diced

Put the vinegar and sugar into a non-reactive pot, place over medium heat and bring to a boil. Add the red pepper, onion, jalapeño, raisins, garlic, ginger, salt and simmer 12 minutes. Add the peaches and simmer an additional 10 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the peaches are still firm, cook several minutes more.

Remove from the heat and allow to cool for 15 minutes. Serve at room temperature. Transfer all excess to a clean container and refrigerate, covered, for up to one week.

Those Bread and Butter Pickles

Of course summer is the season for enjoying in-the-moment the bounty of the garden & farm, but also the time to think ahead about how to extend the season. The abundance of fruits and vegetables available from produce stands, farmer's markets, and personal gardens can be a little overwhelming, but offers a great opportunity. Preservation methods like canning allow this bounty to be enjoyed long after the season has passed. Even if you don't have an economic need to put by stores for the winter, you can transform basic produce into tasty sides, condiments, and the like and enhance your enjoyment of the produce from your garden or your local farmer. You can even follow the same principles to make small-batch products with a shorter life; simply substitute the refrigerator for canning equipment.

The retro-hipster, slow-food, greener-living, domestic-arts-revivalist movement has made do-it-yourself scratch food production and preservation popular, even trendy. You can't crack open a cooking magazine or newspaper food section (or web site) in the summer the last few years without reading about people rediscovering how to put up preserves, make their own catsup, or whip up their own mixers for craft cocktails. The movement is just as strong in the restaurant world. Local restaurants sometimes seem to be in a veritable arms race to tout their house-cured or smoked meats, relishes, condiments, and the like. If they are not making such items themselves, they actively promote their use of local/regional artisan producers. You can't swing a cat in Nashville without hitting an indie restaurant that doesn't have a menu featuring Benton's bacon or Corsair liquor or Olive & Sinclair chocolate. It's a pretty exciting time if you care about good food made with care and passion.

But I digress ... I'm here to talk about pickles. I don't care for dill pickles -- my friends will testify that it's one of the few foods I actually abhor -- but I love sweeter types. Bread and butter pickles are a variety that strike the perfect balance between tart and sweet. They are great with bread and butter, as the name imples (a tasty artisan baguette and fresh butter are best, naturally). They are also terrific with a wide variety of cheese and the plainer sorts of crackers, and on sandwiches, burgers, and the like. I adore these on ham sandwiches in particular.

The basis for this recipe was suggested to me by a fellow member of a cooking bulletin board I frequent. A few years ago I was on the hunt for a clone of a commercial pickled Vidalia onion product G&R Farms used to produce, and this seemed to fit the bill. It does indeed work well as a pickled onion recipe, but I usually make it with the stated amount of cucumbers and onions. And yes, these are the pickles I referenced in that poem.

NOTE: I have only ever made these as refrigerator pickles. I follow all the guidelines for canned pickles, including sterilizing jars, using new lids, etc.; I just don't process the packed jars. Since I do not know the original source for this recipe, and I've tinkered with it a bit, I cannot vouch for it as a suitable recipe for canning. Canned foods must contain a certain pH, in addition to being prepared and processed properly, to be shelf-stable and safe. If you would like a reputable, tested recipe for canned Bread & Butter Pickles, check out the one in the University of Georgia Extension Service guide. While I have not made that recipe, it is very similar to this one. I also like the blog Food in Jars for additional canning information.

Bread & Butter Pickles

adapted from various sources

4 quarts well-scrubbed, thinly sliced (1/8"), unpeeled pickling (Kirby type) cucumbers
4 medium onions, sliced pole-to-pole and separated into slivers
1 well-scrubbed red bell pepper, cut into thin strips (optional)
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1/3 cup pickling salt (do not use table salt, sea salt, kosher salt, etc.)
large quantity of ice
4 cups sugar
3 cups cider or white vinegar
2 Tbsp mustard seeds
1 1/2 tsp turmeric
1 1/2 tsp celery seeds

Combine cucumbers, onions, peppers, and salt in a very large crock or ceramic, glass, or stainless steel bowl. Cover the vegetables with ice and mix well. Cover with another layer of ice. Let stand for about 3 hours, adding more ice if needed to keep the mixture well-chilled.

Combine the remaining ingredients in a large non-reactive kettle or stock pot and stir until sugar is dissolved. Drain the vegetables and add to the pot. Bring to a boil, stirring occasionally; remove from heat immediately.

Pack the pickles and liquid into hot, sterilized pint or quart jars, leaving 1/2 inch head space. Seal with sterilized, new jar lids. Allow to cool until then refrigerate immediately and keep refrigerated.

4 pounds of pickling cucumbers from Ashland City, TN by way of the Nashville Farmer's Market	The blossom end of the cucumber has enzymes that can soften the pickle; it's important to trim that off
I used my OXO V-Slicer (kin to a mandolin) to quickly reduce a pile of produce to slices of perfectly even thickness	The same 4 pounds of cucumbers, sliced. This came to a bit less than 4 quarts called for in the recipe, so I had some pickling syrup left over when all was said and done.
Vidalia onions, of course, for this Georgia girl	Cukes & onions mixed, ready for salt & ice
Salted & iced and left to crisp for 3 hours	Cookin'
Pretty little maids, all in a row	Ta-Da!