Fun with fungi

"Here I am, all ready for eating," I hear a little voice call from under my back porch.

Another small voice chimes in, "Me, too!"

No, those aren't the imaginary voices of the microgreens I started a handful of weeks ago. The cutting lettuces and baby spinach have a higher pitched, chirpy tone when they're ready. There is something calling out that has a distinctly... fungal... lilt.

(In case you're worried about my mental well-being, let me assure you that I don't actually think my mushrooms are talking to me. Everyone knows that mushrooms don't talk. They sing.)

Is it possible that at long last, my homemade shiitake logs have fruited? Those beautiful logs that Jeff hauled over in the trunk of his car, lugged from the side of the road in Takoma Park, where Park Service crews were chopping up a large white oak felled after a heavy thunderstorm back in the late summer of 2011? The ones that he and I drilled, inoculated with hundreds of shiitake spore plugs, and meticulously covered with melted beeswax (to keep nondesirable things from reproducing in the depths of the nutrient-rich logs)?

Those logs were a LOT of work to get ready for mushroom growing, let me tell you, and I was perhaps not overly kind in my references to the non-fruiting logs over their year and a half of seeming dormancy. I may have audibly maligned them when six months went by, then nine months with no sign of even a single, tiny shroom. Grrr....

I got so irritated after about a year that I lugged them around, finally forming two makeshift raised beds under my back porch "so that they could at least serve some function instead of just sitting there taking up space." Becky came to visit soon  afterwards and seeded the beds with spinach, baby chard, lettuce mixes. At least I had some salad greens through the late summer and autumn of 2012. Now could it be that they were just slow growers, that those previously unfruitful (har, har) fallen-tree chunks have taken off at last, that I am about to be up to my eyeballs in fresh, organic, homegrown mushrooms?? They look promising...

I called Jeff yesterday, when I discovered the two sizable (probably shiitake) mushrooms sprouting out of the logs, excitedly telling him about our maybe-successful-after-all mushroom log development. He congratulated me. He also recommended a few nearby hospitals "just in case." There is a high probability that they are shiitakes, being that the logs were stuffed with shiitake spores. But what if they're not?

To be honest, I am a little nervous. What kind of end to a life story would that be: death by misidentified mushroom consumption in one's own backyard? Tell me honestly: don't mine look like the ones cousin Caroline and I harvested from her shiitake logs at Mountaindale Farms a couple summers ago? At least a little bit?

Anyone want to come over for mushroom stirfry tonight?

You can quote me on that

Did you catch last week's Food Section in the Post?

I almost missed it, busy as I have been, but luckily Kenton's mom sent me a copy. She thought I'd get a kick out of the feature article on the wacky world of DC-area farmers' market newsletters. I did enjoy reading about some of my market friends' fun and quirky weekly updates. Just below the second page of the article, my eyes fell on a short piece on new markets opening this season... one in which I am quoted. Extensively. I am pleased that the reporter contacted me a few weeks ago about including the soon-to-open Suitland market in a piece about innovative new community farmers' markets. I am just a little anxious about the details.

It is true that I will be the market manager. It is true that the market will benefit the neighborhood and nearby federal workers. It is true that we will have awesome local farmers from Maryland and Virginia... What is not exactly right: the market doesn't start until next month. (To be fair, back over the winter, the community had discussed an April start date, but we'd still much to work out, so we moved the opening to June.) And there were a couple of things that I had tried to emphasize that were completely left out. In particular, the amazing partnerships that brought the whole thing about.

Reading the piece, it sounds like I am putting this market together all by myself. That is hardly the case. The lion's share has been handled by my friends and colleagues, Jessica and Janet, who have been working with farmers and other small food producers and extension officers over the cold weather months. Where is the mention of the STEER Center -- the driving force behind the market that "has been in the works for several years"? Yes, yes, I am sure there are character and column limitations, so the friendly reporter couldn't include everything I wanted. (She was writing the piece -- not me -- and to her credit did hit on a number of the key details.) Me, while I am very much looking forward to opening day on June 4th, I am hardly a veteran in the neighborhood. I only got involved with the Suitland community a year and a half ago, when I helped some middle schoolers start a garden. True, I do love those students, and am elated that the program has since evolved to include a hoophouse -- the source of the "hyper-local produce" mentioned in the Post article -- but the idea of a market in the Suitland community had been discussed for years before I came on the scene.

What reporters decide to include can be funny. Just the other day I was laughing out loud while reading a chapter of my friend Forrest's (excellent) book that touches on a much more extreme interaction with the local media. (Not much time to myself lately, so it's taking me awhile to get through the preview copy Forrest gave me, er, wow, over a month ago. And now it's available on Amazon. Shoot. I'd better sign off of the computer and get back to reading Gaining Ground before Forrest comes out with the sequel!) There's a great scene in chapter 10 where a reporter comes to interview Forrest as he's just starting his first season of selling free-range meat on the family farm in rural VA. The young farmer walks his guest around the farm, pointing out the happily grazing animals, answering questions, and clarifying -- he thinks -- any confusing points. The article comes out, and Forrest stares disbelievingly at the selective interpreted quotes taken out of context in the local paper. His explanation of the complexity of flavor that comes from the unique blend of grasses and clover, the terroir, in the resulting beef is printed as "You can taste dirt in the meat." I don't want to give away the whole take on manure management -- you're just going to have to pick up a copy of the book for yourself. It's too funny.

Luckily for Forrest, "[e]vidently, weed-fed cattle with meat that tasted like dirt had a certain appeal after all." And luckily for me, a lot of other good details were included, but I want to make sure that the official interwebs record clearly states that I am not single-handedly starting up a farmers' market in Suitland. It is very much the labor of love of quite a few people, unmentioned in the final article. It is for you that I write. Thank you. For everything. Looking forward to our grand opening in a few weeks!

(Did I mention the market starts on June 4?)

Like father, like daughter

I couldn't help but notice dad was wearing one glove when he came to pick me up from Kenton's for family dinner tonight in good old Northern VA. What's with the single glove, padre? "That damned devil knife again. It's too sharp! I was just cutting a watermelon and...."

Turns out dad doesn't have a great track record with sharp knives, either. At least his are labeled. He peeled back the glove to show me the injury. Kept the band-aid on, though: not long til dinnertime, after all.

Are these things genetic? (Same thumb and everything!) I wonder what I've inherited from my mother's half of the chromosomes....

Backyard greens

No matter how tired I am -- and I am T-I-R-E-D after what seems like two weeks packed into four days so far this week -- I can't help but get excited when I get to harvest things from my garden and it them within minutes. Tonight marked the inaugural harvest of baby kale, chard, and arugula this spring. Oh, sure, I've chomped on a leaf here and there while doing garden work, but this is the first time there was enough for a full salad. Yum! Why should it matter that the arugula and dino kale unintentionally grew out of my compost pile? So what if the Swiss chard is in its second year? It's delicious, especially with a simple and fresh dressing.

Simple salad with lemony dressing

Ingredients

• juice from 2-3 lemons (about 1/3 cup of juice)
• handful of fresh herbs (rosemary, basil, chives, thyme, sage, oregano, etc), finely chopped
• 1 cup olive oil
• salt and freshly ground black pepper
• pinch of sugar (optional)
• 1 large bunch of greens (spinach, baby kale, baby beet greens, tatsoi, chard, lettuce, etc.), washed and torn into bite-sized pieces

Directions

Whisk together lemon juice and herbs in a medium bowl. While whisking, slowly pour olive oil in a slow stream. Add salt and pepper (and sugar) to taste. Blot the washed greens dry using a towel or salad spinner. Toss greens in a large bowl with dressing. Devour.

That's all. Enough salivating over my keyboard. Now it's time to juice some lemons, pick a few herbs, make some of that dressing and get eating....

Focus on folic acid

I do not purport to be a nutritionist. I work with them sometimes, but my realm of expertise is food enjoyment: making and eating and teaching and getting others excited about good food. As such, I was invited to work with a group of staff and patients over at Howard University Hospital last weekend. It was part of a workshop series geared toward improving the quality of life of folks dealing with sickle cell anemia. As participants trickled in around noon, we got cooking. More precisely, we got grinding cumin seeds and tearing kale and shaking vinaigrette as participants helped me prepare some sweet and savory salads from the beautiful seasonal produce I'd pre-washed and brought along.

I'd learned that patients going through treatment for sickle cell disease often have low folic acid levels, so I was specifically looking for easy, tasty, inexpensive recipes using folic-acid-laden ingredients. (And since the workshop was to take place *in* a hospital, I couldn't have an open flame, so I found myself making salads.) In spite of themselves, a number of folks admitted to really enjoying the trio of salads. The massaged kale salad was a crowd pleaser once again, with the apple beet salad a close second. (Carrot salad always comes in third -- why is that?) All were loaded with folic acid, also known as vitamin B9. It was a lot of fun, and I'm looking forward to the next workshop with this group (which will focus on container gardening).

So, what does folic acid do, anyway?

I was wondering the same thing myself when the hospital staff approached me about teaching a cooking class with an emphasis on folic acid. So I did a little research. Being a food educator doesn't mean I know everything about everything related to food, you know. (I do know a heck of a lot about cooking, though. And eating.) Vitamin B9 is super important in red blood cell formation, and is a major factor in preventing and treating anemia. Even if you aren't anemic you'll want to make sure you're getting plenty in your diet. Folic acid deficiencies are also apparently linked to other health issues, from macular degeneration to depression to a whole spectrum of birth defects. Planning on having kids? Ladies, make sure you're getting enough folic acid before and during pregnancy. (Calm down, mom and dad, I'm not planning on having kids in the near future. You can be sure I'll be eating plenty of kale salad when that happens, though.)

What kinds of foods are high in folic acid? Many of my favorites!

• Avocado (hooray!)
• Asparagus
• Beets
• Berries (strawberries, raspberries)
• Brussels sprouts (send me an email, I'll give you 14 different recipes)
• Carrots and celery
• Cauliflower
• Citrus (oranges, lemons, grapefruits)
• Corn
• Dark, leafy greens (kale, collards, spinach, beet greens)*
• Legumes (beans, peas, lentils)*
• Okra
• Seeds and nuts
• Squashes 

*Note: foods marked with an asterisk (*) are also quite high in iron, so check with your doctor before consuming large quantities while on iron-level-spiking medication for sickle cell anemia.

 

[Photos courtesy of Don Cash]

Spring has sprung

This weekend may be one of the most gloriously beautiful spring weekends on record. I did my darndest to spend as much of it as possible outside. (I have the bug bites to prove it.)

Saturday afternoon I made my way out to Northern Virginia for a garden consultation with mom. After a delicious lunch -- we're related, so of course there would be a proper lunch #2 -- we took a walk about the front yard and then a field trip to a local nursery for supplies.

Oh, boy, do I lose it around pretty flowers and vegetable seedlings -- it's a good thing mom and I got out of there within an hour or I'd have spent my entire tax return. (Oh, wait: I owe money this year. Damn it. Well, all the more reason to get myself out of the heirloom tomato section asap.) Then she put me to work back home, transplanting some beautiful purple sweet potato vines into the front beds, pruning shrubs, and taming the overactive rose bushes along the side of the house. I made it out of there before she got me digging holes for the geraniums -- there were a LOT of geraniums -- and I absconded with dad's car to whisk Kenton into the city for the remainder of the weekend. Dinner out on the back patio was just lovely. I do believe that's when the nefarious ankle biting happened. (Silly me, I thought it was too early for mosquitoes, and was focused on the wine and the pleasant company of our friends Patricia and Peter and the experimental winter squash lasagne. Oooh, but they sure itch now.)

Sunday was spent largely outdoors as well. That morning as I perused the stands at the Dupont farmers' market I was unable to resist the lure of herb transplants. Thankfully limited by the cash I had on hand after doing the bulk of my shopping for the week, I biked home with two little plants in my pannier, along with quite the haul of produce, cider, eggs, bread, and yoghurt. Kenton joined me out in the garden for some brunch and then some garden time. Doesn't he look serious, meticulously recording in my garden journal the varieties of and arrangement of seeds planted in the hand-rolled newspaper pots?

Yes, awfully serious fun. Heirloom burgundy okra. Wisconsin pickling cucumbers. Four different kinds of basil. And lots more than I might have space for, should they all germinate and become legit plantlings. But we'll figure that part out later.

Meanwhile, I was crawling around some of the planters and in-ground beds, cleaning up and reseeding some of the flowers and salad greens. And some seeds I'd saved from last year. Celosia. Marigolds. Bell peppers. Jarradale squash. And putting in my new sage and thyme additions, of course. It felt good to have my hands in the dirt after so many months. I can't wait to see what does well this year. I'm a little behind on my March Madness seedling bracket, but my money's on the hot peppers.

Check out my mussels

Awhile back -- goodness, nearly two months ago, now that I look at the calendar! -- I hosted my second beer dinner of the season. (I was especially proud of myself for including some Tall, Dark, and Belgian in 3 separate elements: mustard, mussel sauce, and bread.) What is more suited to a beer dinner than mussels steamed in Belgian-style beer? I couldn't tell ya. Plus, it was high time to break in the new cast-iron skillet from Cousin Sonia.... It's hard to go wrong when you start a sauce with some thick-cut, pastured bacon.

I love beer. And bacon. And, lord, do I love mussels. Mind you, I had recently decided that I would NOT be ordering mussels OUT anytime soon, following my reading of the scandalous chapter of Kitchen Confidential that detailed the horrific practices of mussel storage common in the restaurant industry. They sit in the fridge in a bowl of their own excrement, to give you the long and short of it. Ick! As if there were not enough things keeping me up at night. (I had read up on how one should safely and hygienically store live bivalves in the fridge: in a colander with plenty of airflow and a damp towel on top.)

The evening before the dinner, as Kenton and I picked up a couple of pounds of fresh mussels at the local Whole Foods, I got to thinking about clams and mussels that I regularly saw sold live on beds of crushed ice, right out there in the open air. "How it is that they stay alive out of the water, and in my fridge for a day or two?" I mused. Kenton was stumped as well. So were our dinner guests when I posed the question during our beer floats. I pondered, I looked online. Nada. So I called in the experts. I recently got a note back from my friend -- and card carrying seafood aficionado -- Marco, of Taylor Shellfish, with an explanation:

"To answer your question, mussels, clams and oysters are adapted to the intertidal environment. This means that twice a day they are out of the water for a few hours (more or less). Because of this they are very good at sealing their shells tight shut with a small drink of salty water. When you steam mussels with beer this salty “liquor” mixes with the beer and make that tasty broth that soaks into crusty bread so well. (I have recently gone gluten free, so I now only dream about soaking up mussel broth with crusty bread, but alas.)

In any case, the short answer is that the same kinds of shellfish that are well adapted to the intertidal environment also tends to have a long “shelf life,” and if properly handled can last for days out of the water."

Hmmm. Makes sense. Clearly this food educator still has much to learn -- thanks for the explanation, Marco. And happy (almost) Easter, readers! Hope you learned something today. I did.