In Jennie's Kitchen

french onion tart

 

A few years back Isabella and I were strolling through a neighborhood supermarket. Her eyes locked with a display of blueberries, and in her sweet little voice she asked if we could buy some.

It was January.

Close friends can already predict my answer. The rest of you might think me insane.

I told my then four year old daughter she couldn't have blueberries. I know, you're wondering why would anyone do such a thing.

For me the answer was very simple. Blueberries in January were a want, not a need. I didn't feel guilty at all. I didn't think I was denying her anything. I might even go so far as to say I was giving her the gift of reducing her carbon footprint.

Meanwhile, I had a draw full of apples from the Greenmarket. Locally grown apples that didn't require a passport to enter our food system.

Were they organic apples? No.

In fact, they were low-spray which means the farmer used as little pesticide as possible to cultivate his crop. But, yeah, I suppose you could say they were tainted depending on how hard and fast you draw the line.

Sure you might think peeling the skin solves the pesticide problem, but it doesn't. Residues remain, plus you lose the boost of fiber and nutrients found in the skin.

So, yes, I'm a contradiction of sorts, and perhaps the apples are an unfair example.

In truth, many local farmers are using organic methods but can't pony up the bucks for the certification. One stand I frequent knows how important growing methods are to his customers and purposely labels his tomatoes, berries and root vegetables as no-spray and pesticide free.

His apples, though, are always sprayed. I guess that's the nature of apples. I've only found one farmer at the markets I haunt that sells organically grown ones.

But enough about the apples. That's not why I brought up the organic vs. conventional question.

I had a "lightbulb" moment this morning while reading this post.

Suddenly it seemed clear to me why those of us who can afford to eat locally, seasonally and support our farmers' markets have a serious obligation to do so. I'll even go as far to say if you think you can't afford to eat this way, give your budget a once over. Start with the Starbucks habit and I bet you can add an extra $30 a week to your food budget.

Motherhood was certainly a moment of reckoning for me. Set with the task to feed another helpless human being, every item I purchased suddenly seemed to require research and more thought than I'd expected a mere apple would ever conjure.

My battle armor is on. I'm ready for your best shot. Before you fire the canons though, think about the best way to change the current food system and give a voice to all the people who don't have the luxury of choice.

When faced with a limited budget, the only answer is to make their dollars stretch in a way that allows them to put food on the table for their families.

For others, it's a matter of location. The same farmers' markets so many of us cherish, perhaps take for granted, are not a given across the country. Sometimes the nearest grocery store is miles away.

I get that. Really, I do.

This is why I utter the next words with convinction.

If those of us who can afford to choose really grasp the gravity of our buying power, then maybe we can give a voice to those struggling to put wholesome food on the table. Is it a pipe dream to think we can make real change to the conventional food system this way?

Maybe. But I'm not giving up on it.

For the time being, the blueberries nestled in the freezer from last season are just fine for me. They've got some strawberries to keep them company too. And while I panic that the peaches I canned may not last until the next season arrives, I'm well aware that's a pretty good situation to be in compared to so many other people.

French Onion Tart

Serves 6 to 8

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The seedling of an idea for this recipe started while I was making cheddar cheese crackers for the kids. The thought occurred that it might be an interesting base for a tart crust.

As I wandered through the farmers' market later that day, in search of some "late winter" inspiration, a bunch of humble onions set the ball rolling. It was at the moment I knew I wanted to recreate the flavors of a French onion soup into my tart. While the directions seem long, it really does come together effortlessly, and well worth the time it takes to caramelize the onions.

In case you're wondering, the flour is local, from Farmer Ground Flour, the onions were from Rogowski Farm, the eggs from Grazin' Angus Acres, and the paprika from Ray Bradley—a nice nod to my local farmers indeed.

homemade pasta + 10-minute bolognese sauce

By now most of you know I'm a big supporter of local farmers' markets. It's where I do most of my shopping, including buying eggs, beef, chicken, pork and an assortment of in season fruit and vegetables. A couple of weeks ago, someone asked me on twitter how to know which produce was organic. It was a great question and one I hadn't really considered myself until a year ago.

Before the tomato blight hit us in the northeast last year, it never occurred to me that those small family farms would use anything but organic farming methods, even if they can't keep up with the paperwork or application fees required by the USDA to attain the official title of organic. Then I read an article about the blight. In it the owner of one of my favorite farm stands was quoted as saying he'd be using pesticides to treat his tomatoes.

lemon blueberry muffins + half white flour

There is a fine line between being a "know it all" and a confident learner. Life has too much to offer to think we can possibly consume, let alone understand it all before our physical time on this earth is done.

And yet, there is an exceeding pressure, on kids and adults alike, to be perfect. It's an unrealistic goal. And a boring one too. Heck, if we become perfect, what pleasure would there be in waking each morning?

Three years ago when I ventured out on a freelance career, I had one main goal in mind—never miss a school event, recital or bringing birthday cupcakes to my daughter's classroom ranked pretty high up there. I knew what kind of mother I wanted to be. I wanted to be active and involved. I wanted to pick her up from school each day and talk about her favorite part—always lunch and recess, and her least favorite—none to report so far, which is good, I think.

That idyllic situation seems like a fairytale most days. Two kids later, a mountain of homework and studying to be done—she's only in first grade for heaven's sake, sometimes the things I wanted to cherish just feel like a chore.

That is until bedtime. Yes, I'll admit, I'm excited come 7:30pm because it means I'm close to reclaiming some "me" time. But it's also the time we unwind and get lost in a book. Oh, the way the baby's fingers dance across the bookcase until she finds just the right one. She then backs up into my lap—or daddy's if he's home from work in time, and gets comfy for a story. Good Night Gorilla is a favorite right now, as are some French board books we bought to help her sister with school.

Once she goes to bed, it's Isabella's turn. She takes out her level books, and now that she's becoming an accomplished reader, she actually enjoys this part of the evening. Before it was a struggle, and honestly it used to drive me and the Mr. crazy. I mean, I'm a writer and we both have a fierce love of books. How could we possibly have birthed a non-reader? She had to come into reading on her own terms, as with every milestone she's reached so far.

Wondering how I'm going to connect this to those blueberry muffins, eh? Easy. Venturing into any unknown territory is always frightening to some degree. Whether it's worrying about decoding language or wondering if a recipe you have in mind will really work, it's a constant reminder that life is about taking chances. Think of it as the eternal search for the unknown—then hit rewind because after we crack one code, we inevitably move on to another quest.

But the muffins. What is so special about these blueberry muffins. You may also be asking why am I making blueberry muffins when berry season is long off. I went crazy buying them up at the farmers' market last year, and thankfully have a stash left in the freezer. I also bought a big bag of Wyman's frozen wild blueberries. And if you live in NYC, check your local Greenmarket. I've seen a few farmers selling some frozen ones from last year's harvest.

But I'm misleading you. After all, frozen blueberries are not that special to warrant this long-winded lesson on patience, learning and open-mindedness. I'm talking about the flour I used to make them. I came across it at the Grand Army Plaza Greenmarket. It's local organic "half-white" from Farmer Ground Flour. The label describes it as a medium protein bread flour, commonly referred to as brown flour in Europe, that "retains some of the bran and germ for nutrition and flavor".

Oh, one more thing. I should probably tell you I don't like whole wheat flour. It's too earthy for my palate. I love mushrooms, and that fresh dirt smell they impart when you get them fresh picked from the farmers' market, but please keep it out my baked goods. So, it was with a little apprehension that I bought a sack of this expensive flour—$6 for a two pound bag. Still, I was intrigued at the idea of tasting a locally milled flour. When I got home, a google search pointed me to this website for a Croatian product that looked similar, but that was about it. It seems to be relatively unknown, otherwise.

On first inspection, this flour looked and felt beautiful. It was quite soft in texture, almost like cake flour, and didn't have that strong scent of regular whole wheat flour. My mother-in-law was coming that evening for her 79th birthday celebration, so I decided to use it in a lemon-glazed raspberry cake. A risky, if not insane decision considering I'd never worked with this flour before and I was developing a new recipe.

Good Morning Garden

It's been almost three months since I ventured out into the wilderness. Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating, since the great outdoors is only a 400 square foot back yard in Brooklyn, but gardening and I have never been a perfect pair. While I can cook up anything that comes from the ground, most living plants suffer a deadly fate under my care. Things are looking up though. The vegetable garden I planted on Mother's Day (thanks to my in-laws for the generous check that got it all started) is doing better than I expected.

The eggplant is finally blooming, having started as beautiful lavendar flowers. The tiny white flowers on the jalapeno plant blossomed into spicy peppers that gave a kick to my pico de gallo last week. And even though it sounds like tomatoes have a doomed fate in the northeast, I've got some coming in. Look, there's even celery.

 

Our farm to table lessons have been realized at many a meal. Early in the season we enjoyed salads using red leaf and romaine lettuces—incredibly easy to grow. Dishes have been seasoned with parsley and basil. The first batch of collard greens were hot and smoky, after cooking down with a generous amount of Tabasco and bacon. My big fear is the tomatoes will be ready while we're away in Cape Cod for two weeks, but that'll just ensure our neighbors visit often to water the rest of the backyard.

Here's what didn't work. Brussel sprouts and broccoli. I'm sure the lackluster results for these crops were operator error. While the broccoli did bloom, the heads were so tiny, I would've needed to plant way too much to yield anything worthwhile. I'm guessing there are different varieties. I don't like to think of myself as a quitter, but next year I'm just going to use that space for extra collards.

 

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