The plants have been drab, brown-grey for months now, the blooms and vines of 2012 blown into tangles and dried into rattling husks.  The only big excitement for the last long while has been when the gusts get so strong that the trees tip over, and I have to put on my coat and scurry out to mount a rescue mission.

I keep meaning to get out there for a proper spring cleanup. You know, trim back the dead, ready the soil for the new, maybe even plant an early crop of sweet peas. But each and every morning I’ve felt ambitious and stepped out into the wind, I’ve started shivering and quickly decided: another day.

Even without me, though, the garden has been quietly getting ready on its own. The delphinium, spotted today, is my first verified sign of green:

New leaves! Truly, I am amazed. It’s called spring, I know it happens every year, and yet I never quite believe it’s going to come.

And then there’s the parade of buds. Peach:

Viburnum: (they look like sloth claws, don’t they?)

And my super exciting flowering plum:

That one looks like little peppercorns about to explode. I can’t wait.

Spring, keep a comin’. Please!

Nadia may have a bit of the January blues, but I have to confess my dissatisfaction is not as time-limited. Winter, the whole thing, every single month of it, I hate it all. I look outside at my garden and there’s so much gray. So much sad, dried-out brown. The few bits of green that are left are shivering, and when I go out to get a closer look at the forlorn scene, I’m shivering too. Fortunately, I have one consolation, a consolation that started arriving in the mail a few weeks ago, just in the nick of time. Seed catalogs!

They’re full of pictures of plants in full bloom, fruits and vegetables in ripe abundance. The exact opposite of the winter world I’m living in. I can’t help but fall into the pages.

The names of the endless plant varieties featured in the catalogs are enough to cheer me up in and of themselves. Just try forming these words with your mouth and not feeling a tiny thrill of sensual pleasure: Royal Chantenay Carrots; Pearly Gates Morning Glories; Tigerella Tomatoes. See? Amazing.

My favorite seed catalogs so far this year, in ranked order, are:

1) The Territorial Seed Company. (All the links take you to the catalog request pages, should you want your own copy). This catalog is fat. The heft of it in my hands alone feels like a promise that spring is real and coming. It’s full color, with a nice balance of fruits, vegetables, and flowers, plus fancy garden supplies like cold frames and compost thermometers that make me imagine becoming a much gadget-ier gardener. I bet you’ll like it too.

2) John Scheepers Kitchen Garden Seeds.  This is a surprise favorite, because it doesn’t contain any of the luscious photographs I’ve been raving about. It’s all line drawings. But they’re elegant and evocative, and the descriptions of the varieties are unbeatable. Take their write-up on Turkish Orange Eggplants: “This showy gem yields small, egg-shaped fruits that mature from green to flamboyant, shiny orange-red….Best harvested early when they are still green so that you may enjoy their mild, ambrosial flavor and sweet fragrance.” How lovely is that? Flamboyant orange-red? Mild ambrosial flavors? Yes please!

3) Seeds of Change. This one is pretty, with bright photos throughout. It’s also peppered with charming garden quotes (for example: “Much Virtue in Herbs, Little in Men” — Benjamin Franklin) and full page “mood” photos of things like mountain views and potted herbs. All their seeds are 100% certified organic, and the whole catalog has a tone that makes me feel virtuous, just for flipping through the pages.

4) Spring Hill Nurseries. Flowers, flowers, flowers. Sometimes a sexy description of an eggplant does the trick, but sometimes you just need to look at big photos of peonies in full bloom.

5) Gurney’s Seed & Nursery C0. Seed catalogs have a long tradition of featuring cheesy photos of kids holding turnips the size of their heads or butter-smeared toddlers chowing down on cobs of corn. The other seed catalogs on my list are a little too slick and fancy to stoop to such hokeyness, but not Gurney’s! And I love them for it. Sometimes when it’s January and the world is cold and gray, you just want to see a smiling baby in overalls sitting on top of a giant pumpkin. No shame in that.

Did I mention that all those links take you to free catalog request pages??

Happy New Year, dear reader!  We do hope you had a relaxing, rejuvenating break, and are looking forward to attacking 2013 with gusto, zeal and bucket loads of energy.

Hmmm. Yes, that’s how I feel too. I’m not sure quite how it happened. After all, I really didn’t do too much over the holidays, well unless there’s such a thing as too much lounging around – no, surely not. But one week into the New Year, and I’m exhausted, sun-deprived, and just about ready to admit defeat.

Damn these January Blues.

I do know of one tonic though to beat off these feelings of doom and gloom and world weariness. You’d be forgiven if you think I was going to say chocolate (you know me too well), but actually I mean to suggest filling your days with zesty meals packed with bright colors and fresh flavors.  It’s not just an aesthetic thing either, bright foods, I mean vegetables (not M&Ms) are typically filled with all manner of nutrients. And citrus as we’ve already established in an earlier post is full of anti-oxidants, so enjoying a Mediterranean-style diet of fish, olive oil, citrus and verdant salads and bright vegetables is bound to lift your spirits, boost your energy levels and perk up your immune system.

The first recipe of the year then to ease you out of your doldrums, is a lemony grilled swordfish marinaded with freshly cracked black pepper and lots of extra virgin olive oil. To up the ante, I accompanied this with an aioli- that’s a fancy word for a flavored, homemade mayonnaise, that gets its zing from fresh lemon, lime or orange juice  and fresh basil.  If you don’t have time to make the aioli form scratch you can use a good quality store-bought fresh mayonnaise and just stir in extra citrus and shredded basil.

You can serve the fish on top of toasted, garlic-rubbed ciabatta “bruschetta,” and hey presto you have a swanky open-faced fish sandwich, or you can go down the healthy route and settle for an arugula and baby tomato side salad instead.

 Lemon Pepper Swordfish with Basil Aioli

Serves 4

For the Lemon Pepper Fish
4 x 6-ounce swordfish steaks (you can use tuna or mahi mahi, instead)
2 Tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Zest of 1 lemon
1 teaspoon freshly cracked black pepper
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 cups packed arugula
1-1/2  cups halved baby tomatoes

Citrus Basil Aioli
1 large clove garlic, crushed
1 large egg yolk
1-1/2 Tablespoons fresh lemon, lime or orange juice
1/2 teaspoon Dijon mustard
Pinch of salt
1/2 cup olive oil
3 Tablespoons shredded basil

Garlic Bruschetta (Optional)
1 ciabatta loaf
1 clove garlic, halved
1 Tablespoon extra virgin olive oil

Place swordfish steaks in a shallow dish.

In a small bowl combine all the other ingredients for the fish then pour over the swordfish. Using your hands, rub the mixture all over the steaks until well coated. Set aside.

Make the aioli: Place all the ingredients for the aioli except the basil and the olive oil in the small bowl of a food processor. Start the motor running and process for 10 to 15 seconds, then add the olive oil in a slow, steady stream until the sauce has emulsified and thickened. Transfer to a bowl, stir in the basil then taste and add salt, and extra lemon, lime or orange juice, if necessary.

Heat a ridged griddle pan on the stove until very hot. Place the swordfish steaks, two at a time (or all four at once, if your pan is large enough),  on the hot pan. Cook for 3 to 4 minutes on either side until well marked on the outside and medium on the inside. Remove from the pan and leave to rest.

If serving the fish on the bruschetta, wipe down the griddle pan then place the bread pieces, cut side down on the pan, and toast for a couple of minutes  until golden. Rub the toasted surface of the bread with the halved garlic and drizzle with the olive oil.

To serve, divide the arugula and cut baby tomatoes over the ciabatta, if using, and place the swordfish on top. Spoon a little aioli over or serve it separately. If not using the bread, simply arrange the fish alongside or over a mix of the arugula and tomatoes.

If you’re in charge of the spread this holiday season, you’re probably becoming increasingly nervous as the big day approaches. No doubt it’s of no help whatsoever  that people like me needlessly point out that Christmas is indeed only a week away. But, here is something truly valuable, a little recipe that might win you some much-needed extra minutes for those final moments of cooking, plating or…panic.

Nuts. Yes, nuts. Everyone loves them, and there’s so many to choose from. A bowl of pistachios or lightly salted peanuts or just-cracked walnuts can go a long way to appease a growling belly. But it’s the festive season and unadorned nuts just aren’t going to cut it with demanding guests expecting an elevated level of culinary execution. With this in mind, I have the perfect tidbit offering that will happily occupy  and satisfy the extended family, Candied Spiced Pecans. They are ridiculously easy to make, and can be whipped up days, nay weeks in advance. And they serve another purpose too. If anyone turns up unannounced and you don’t have a present in hand, simply bottle up these decadent nibbles, and hey presto, instant gifting.

I’ve tried several different methods for these pecans over the years, and I like to think of the recipe below as my ultimate opus…the final word on candied pecans. Technically, of course, they’re not really candied. Technically, candying something entails messing around with boiling sugar. I’ve messed around with boiling sugar before, and have the scar to prove it. Instead, I coat my pecans in whipped egg white which acts as a kind of adhesive. Combined with a sugar and spice mix the egg white becomes a gummy, sweet-savory coating that, almost by magic, turns into a crunchy, candy-like glaze after baking.

These pecans are quite simply irresistible, so make double what you think you might need!

Candied Spiced Pecans

 1 egg white
2 teaspoons vanilla extract plus 1 teaspoon water
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1/4  teaspoon ground cayenne
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup white granulated sugar
1/2 cup light brown sugar
1 pound pecan halves

1. Preheat oven to 250 degrees F. Line one large baking sheet or 2 smaller ones with parchment paper.
2. In a large mixing bowl, beat together the egg white, vanilla extract and water until it resembles fluffy mallow and you can create soft peaks when you lift up the beater. In a separate large bowl, mix together spices, salt, and sugars.
3. Add the pecans to the beaten egg whites, and stir to coat the nuts evenly. Remove the nuts, and add them to the sugar and spice mixture. Toss until all the nuts are evenly coated. Spread the nuts out on the prepared baking sheet(s) in a single layer.
4. Bake for about 1 hour and 20 minutes, stirring every 20 minutes.
5. Remove the pecans from the oven and leave to cool for 10 minutes. Transfer the nuts to a cooling rack taking care to carefully separate them if any are stuck together. Leave to cool completely – they will become crunchier when cool. Store in an airtight container for up to 1 month.

images: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

So let’s get to this. There are two big essentials for citrus happiness. Temperature is first. The reason oranges grow outdoors in Morocco but not in Manhattan is that below 55 degrees they shiver and start to bid farewell to this cold, cruel world. So that’s the first condition. Do you keep your apartment heated to above 55 degrees? I bet you do. The next condition has to do with hours of sunlight. Citrus trees like sunshine. Six to eight hours a day is ideal. Does your apartment have a window? I bet it does. Extra points if it’s south facing. (Don’t fret if not. Mine are north facing, and yet my three citrus trees are happily blossoming right now). In sum: if you heat your apartment and have a window, you can grow a citrus tree.

The next thing to know is that some types of citrus trees are better suited to indoor growing conditions than others. And, lucky us, turns out that many of the juiciest, prettiest types of citrus are on the list. Meyer Lemons, Kieffer Limes, Mexican Sweet Limes, Washington Navel Oranges, and Oroblanco Grapefruits — all indoor-compatible. Plenty of nurseries and plant stores stock citrus plants this time of year. If you can’t find one nearby, my favorite online purveyor is Four Winds Growers. (If you can spring for it, a 2-3 year old tree will bear fruit faster. With one-year olds, you can be waiting a while).

There are just a final few things you need to know. Water: citrus trees like plenty of it, but their roots hate sogginess. That means you need a fast-draining soil and plenty of drainage holes in the bottom of the plant’s pot. Rather than regular old potting soil, buy special citrus or cactus soil. Once your plant outgrows the plastic pot it came in, or if you decide to repot it to a prettier pot right away, use the citrus soil to fill in around the roots. Then water your citrus baby at least twice a week. You’ll also want to fertilize your tree for maximum leafing and blossoming and fruiting. Tomato fertilizer will do, with feedings roughly every six weeks. I have also happily used citrus spikes.

Last but not least, harvesting. Patience is the name of the game. Your lovely oranges, lemons, or limes can be hanging from the branch for a few months at what looks like full-size before they’re truly ripe. The real test is touch. If they’re rock hard, they’re not ready. If the flesh gives a little when you push, let the citrus feast begin.

Jumbo Pink Banana Squash. Yep, that’s a name you can get excited about. That’s a picture of banana squash up there at the top of the post. I happen to know A LOT about this squash because when I was in junior high, I worked on a farm after school. Doing what? Picking squash, including jumbo pink banana squash.

Jumbo is an accurate word. They’re huge. When you see them out in the field, it looks like a whole bunch of pigs have decided to lay down and take a nap. Unfortunately, out in the field they also smell like a bunch of pigs have decided to lay down and take a nap. (Squeamish readers, avert your eyes. The truth is banana squash in a field smells just like vomit). The good news is that the smell dissipates in isolation, and since I doubt you will be riding in the back of a truck, as I was, with a literal ton of banana squash, you won’t experience the odor. (Don’t worry, I was paid two dollars an hour for my labors, so it was TOTALLY worth it).

Banana squash’s jumbo size is just the start of their appeal. The flesh is deep and orange and sweet, like butternut squash trumped up with pumpkin. Roast a big wedge, add some butter and salt and pepper, and that’s all it takes, you’re in squash heaven.

Next up, Hubbard Squash.

image

Hubbard is a homely squash. Weird and blue, they almost look like they’re shivering out there in the late fall fields. But inside, they’re all warmth and wonder. They can range from bright orange flesh to a paler marigold, but either way, they’re hearty and particularly well suited for soups.

And here is something MARVELOUS: they can last in storage for up to SIX MONTHS!!! Not the 1-2 months of acorn squash or the 2-3 months of butternut squash. Nope. Six whole months. These are the squash to get you through a long pilgrim winter. Just keep them away from your apples, since the ethylene that apples release will speed up the squash spoilage.

Our final specimen of the day: Delicata Squash.

(image)

Delicata was once hard to get a hold of. That’s because the skin is thin and therefore not as well-suited to shipping as its thicker-skinned squash cousins. But thanks to the local food movement, it’s had a huge resurgence in recent years. Now you can find it almost anywhere. Which is great because it is delicious.

I’ll be honest, you can sub a lot of the stranger squashes for butternut in a recipe and not notice all that much difference, but delicata is DIFFERENT. It’s a small squash. The flesh is yellow, not orange. You can eat the rind, and those stripes look beautiful in a dish. But that’s all surface stuff. The real difference is how it tastes. It’s a softer, milder, and sweeter than other winter squashes. Some people say it tastes like sweet potatoes. I think it’s subtler even than that. The texture is more delicate, less stringy. The whole experience is surprising. It just tastes so…refined. Less grabby than the other winter squashes, more gently seductive.

Delicata showed up in my CSA for the first time this fall. I’d actually never had it before. It would be unfair to jumbo pink banana squash to cast it aside as my favorite so quickly — all that history! How could I? — but I will say this: I’m making a delicata side dish for Thanksgiving. Infer what you will.

Every now and then when I’m tinkering in the kitchen, all the stars in the culinary constellation align just right. That’s what happened when I baked this French apple tart at a photo shoot (the talented photographer, by the way, was Dan Jones). Admittedly, I had spent close to the best part of an afternoon painstakingly arranging apple slices in a perfect concentric design. No matter. They still could have shifted in the oven, or puffed up disruptively or worse still, burned. But they didn’t. Instead they behaved and stayed put, and like real troopers took on a beautifully autumnal golden hue with wispy, burnished edges.

As for the crust, sure it looks perfectly browned, but what you can’t see is that it was also meltingly tender, buttery, crumbly and crisp all at the same time. And look more closely. Spy that luscious, almost custardy almond frangipane sitting beneath the sheet of sliced apple? This really was a tart to trump all other tarts, and that’s why I propose you shake up the Thanksgiving spread. Leave the can of pumpkin in the cupboard and grab the apples instead.

Peak season for many apple varieties is September to November. But if you buy your apples at the grocery store or supermarket, you don’t really need to worry about making sure you get them immediately after they’re harvested. Freshly picked apples have a natural waxy coating that protects them from losing water and shriveling. Federal regulations mandate that commercial apples are washed to rid them of dust and any chemical residues. This also removes most of the natural waxy coating, so processors replace it with a harmless shiny shellac or carnauba spray which prevents moisture loss, enhances “firmness retention” and slows down the apple respiration rate. I know this doesn’t sound like a good thing, but it keeps apples fresher for longer; the more an apple breathes, the quicker it ages, and deteriorates in quality.

When cooking with apples, it’s important to take a moment and make sure you choose the right variety. The ones that are best eaten out of hand, aren’t always also the best ones to bake with. I love this visual guide from Epicurious which features an extensive list of all the apples you’re likely to come across not just in grocery stores but also in farmers’ markets and specifies flavor characteristics and best uses.

Once you’ve picked your variety, make sure you select the cream of the crop, so to speak. Avoid anything with soft mushy spots, blemishes or bruises. Crisp, firm and shiny are you want. Once you get them home, keep the apples in the fridge until you’re ready to use them – and no matter what else you do, don’t store them together with bananas, the ethylene the bananas release will make the apples soften.

When prepping, the best way to stop your sliced apples from turning brown is to steep them in a solution that’s 3 parts cold water to 1 part lemon juice. Incidentally, there’s nothing “wrong” with this color change, all that’s happening is that when an apple is sliced, the cells on the cut surfaces have been damaged and the iron within the cells is exposed. Oxygen reacts with this iron to form iron oxide, which is essentially rust, hence the browning. There’s also an enzyme present in apples called polyphenol oxidase that speeds up the oxidation process. Keeping sliced apples in water makes it more difficult for oxygen in the air to reach those vulnerable cut surfaces, and if you add lemon juice, the acid deactivates the  polyphenol oxidase enzyme.

French Apple Tart
Serves 8 to 10

For the crust
1- 3/4 cups, plus 1 Tablespoons  all-purpose flour
1 stick unsalted butter, straight from the fridge, cubed
1 large egg yolk, lightly beaten

For the almond filling
1-1/4 sticks unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup caster sugar
2 large eggs, beaten
1 Tablespoons Calvados (optional)
3 Tablespoons all-purpose flour
1-1/2 cups almond flour

For the apple topping
3 Granny Smith apples, halved, cored and thinly sliced, stored in acidulated water  (water with a squeeze of lemon juice) to prevent discoloration
1tbsp granulated Demerara sugar
3tbsp apricot jam or preserves, warmed and strained through a sieve to remove bits

You’ll need a 9-inch tart pan with a removable base.

A few weeks ago, we were talking about beans, and I was extolling the virtues of the Royal Burgundy bush beans I’ve been growing — their delicate violet flowers, the dark pods dangling like mysteries from their stems. But I also mentioned a slight sadness: the purple beauties turn green when you cook them.

Which led to a very good question from Matt B. “What’s with purple beans? Why do they turn green when I cook them? For that matter, why do dragon’s tongue and cranberry beans both lose their striping when cooked? Can I do anything to help them keep their color? Maybe a quick blanch? A vinegar bath?”

Here my friend, is your answer, with apologies for the delay. It’s because of anthocyanins. That’s the name for the group of chemicals that gives the purple color to purple beans and purple broccoli and purple peppers and red cabbage. Unfortunately, heat causes rapid decomposition of anthocyanin. And then what happens to your burgundy beans is a lot like what happens to leaves in the fall — as the dominant color chemicals break down, the other color chemicals that were masked but there all along finally have the chance to show through. In the case of burgundy beans, the masked color is bright green.

HOWEVER! There’s still hope for your purple beans (and the stripes of your cranberry beans). Anthocyanins’ strength is linked to acidity — lower acidity equals weaker anthocyanin expression. So, just as you suspected, the acid in a vinegar bath with help. Ditto with a lemon juice bath. And a quick blanch is a great way to minimize the heat breakdown.  Even with that, they probably won’t stay quite as brilliantly purple as they are when they’re raw, but you’ll definitely save some of the color!