Category Archives: Fruit

Teeny Tiny Prune Plums

14 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by in Blue, Color, Fall, Fruit, Purple, Stone Fruit, Summer

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I saw these babies at the market a couple of years ago and couldn’t resist taking them home:

DSCF9497So cute!  And they looked great for quick snacking.  Unfortunately, though they were called French Sugar Plums, they weren’t very sweet, and the lack of juiciness was unexpectedly disappointing.  They tasted so nondescript that I didn’t know how to respond – they weren’t bad, but that’s because they weren’t anything.  They didn’t even really taste like plums, just like they were some generically labelled Fruit.

French Sugar PlumsBut because I’d bought a whole pound of them anticipating snacks to last us at least a week, I started surfing the Internet for how I could use them up.  They’re also known as Italian Prune Plums, so there were suggestions for turning them into homemade prunes, but that seemed a lot of trouble for a food I didn’t really love anyway. Italian prune plumsAnd then I found The Cake.

Apparently, I’m slow to a whole bunch of trains, because this recipe was published in the New York Times every year for about 20 years, but I only found out about it recently.  But it’s what these plums were made for.  Their tiny little oval shapes wink at you as the syrupy topping settles into the crevices left by their big, fat pits DSCF9544(you don’t see syrupy topping in the link?  That’s ‘cuz I changed the recipe.  Scroll down.), and the heat of the oven transforms their blah generic flavor into something layered, complex, concentrated with sugar but not overwhelmingly sweet.  In short?  It’s the best coffee cake in the history of the universe.

Except it wasn’t.  I mean, it was clearly delicious and was clearly what these plums were made for (being baked, broiled, roasted or otherwise made delicious by the magic of fire), but I found it a bit dry.  So finally I decided to fiddle and futz, and now, if I do say so myself, it is the greatest coffee cake in the history of the universe.  It’s amazingly easy, moist, beautiful, and easily swappable with apples, pears, or other fruits that are not particularly juicy – I wouldn’t use peaches or overly ripe pears or something along those lines because the juice runs out underneath the seam of the pan and makes you have to clean your oven afterwards.  But feel free to swap out another liquor or flavor of your choice as well – I’m not a fan of orange myself, but I think cranberries or pears and cointreau might be very nice…

Slice of Coffee CakeModified Plum Cake  adapted from Marian Burros
1 cup flour
1 tsp baking powder
pinch of salt
14 tbs softened unsalted butter
1 cup sugar (can reduce slightly)
2 eggs
1/2 cup 2% or higher Greek style plain yogurt or European-style yogurt (thicker kinds with no sugar or flavorings added – you could probably sub in sour cream if you can’t find either of these, but I haven’t tried it)
15-20 prune plums depending on size of fruit and your pan
1-2 tbs brandy, amaretto, or other liquor
1 tsp cinnamon for tossing, 1 tsp cinnamon for batter
2 tsp sugar
almond extract (could use vanilla or combination of the 2)
springform pan, lightly sprayed or lightly buttered

Preheat oven to 350.  Halve the plums (over the bowl to catch the juices). The easiest way to remove the pit is to simply cut in half, and twist:French plum

 

 

 

 

 

Prune Plum

 

 

 

 

 

Then remove the pit.

Toss with approximately 2 tsp sugar, 1 tsp cinnamon, splash of almond extract, and generous splash of liquor. Let sit while you make the batter.

Mix flour, baking powder, salt and 1 tsp of cinnamon. Cream butter, yogurt and sugar and blend with well-beaten eggs.

Plum cake batterAdd in flour mixture just until combined without flour streaks. Spread into the bottom of springform pan (it will be very thick).

 

 

 

 

Press plum halves skin side down in concentric circles (if you want it to be pretty)

pretty plum cake

 

 

 

so flat sides of plums are level with batter.

 

messy Plum cake

Messy plums before cooking

halloween etc 137

Messy plums after cooking

 

If your plums were overripe and fell apart while you were taking out the pit, that’s okay.  It won’t look as glamorous, but will still look nice and taste just the same.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Spoon remaining syrup in bowl over the top of the cake.  Bake at 350 for 40-50 mins or until set in the center and pale golden. Separate the edges from the sides of the pan with a knife while the cake is still hot and let sit for about 5 more mins before removing the sides. Serve warm or room temperature.

plum cakeFor French Sugar/Italian Prune Plums:
Look for small, oblong, slightly plump fruits.  They should have a little bit of give when you squeeze them, but not be soft. Wrinkled skin means they’re on their way to prune-town; too soft means you’ll definitely need to cook them (but these should really be cooked when fresh for best flavor anyway, and if you’re making cake or sauce, the wrinkled ones will plump right up with a little liquid…)  DSCF9516Small bruises and brown spots can be easily cut out; large scales are a bad sign.  The fruit is too small to save when it gets a large blemish. They don’t smell like much of anything when ripe -at most, a slightly acidic, plum-like scent.

Peel?  No.
Edible seed?  No.  It’s a stone fruit.  Less ripe plums will actually pop off the pit very nicely; as they start to overripen they will hang on, so stick with fruits a little on the firmer side if you want them to look pretty when pitted.
Edible when raw?  Yes.  If you’re just eating them plain, let them ripen a little more so that you get the maximum juice possible.
Worth the price of organic?  Probably.  Imported plums are high on the lists for pesticide use, though domestic aren’t bad.  If you don’t know where yours come from, I’d err for organic.  If you know your farmer, you could probably get away with conventional.
In season: Late Summer into Early Fall. (In L.A., all the way into early January.)
Best with: Heat.  Cook them to concentrate the flavor and bring out the juices.  Otherwise, cinnamon, nutmeg, almond, vanilla, cream (and creamy substances – yogurt, sour cream, pudding, etc.), and orange all go nicely for sweet uses.  Because of their small size and subtler sweetness, they’re also ideal for use with dark meats or game, like chicken thighs, rabbit, lamb and duck.
How to Store:  In the fridge, they’ll keep as long as 2 weeks or more.  If they start to shrivel and get prune-looking, they’re still great for baking though less tasty for eating raw.

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Figs in a Blanket

26 Wednesday Jun 2013

Posted by in Black, Brown, Fall, Fruit, Green, Miscellany, Summer

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Growing up in a humid, mid-Atlantic suburb on the East Coast, the only figs I knew of were the Newton varietal – but man oh man were they tasty!  So when I moved to California and starting expanding my fruit and vegetable repertoire (not a difficult task, when my chosen produce at the time consisted of apples, berries, and iceberg lettuce), what could be tastier, I thought, than the inside filling of a cookie fruited cake.

black figsBleh.  Raw fresh figs do NOT taste like fig newtons minus the cake part, just FYI.  Some people, lots of people in fact, love them, but I am not one of them.  So I thought I hated figs.

But as with  most things in life sliced figs(I swear to you, I promise on all that is good and holy, at some point soon I will post a whole series of posts that are kosher and/or vegetarian and/or vegan and/or don’t negate all their yummy nutrients by simply mixing with bacon and/or goat cheese…but today is not that day) they just needed to be wrapped in pork product to change my view.

Raw figs have a hint of sweetness, and a somewhat earthy, flowery flavor.  When very ripe, they’re quite syrupy and gain sweetness, but to me the flavor is like a mushroom masquerading as a pear, with a suggestion of banana.  fresh figIt’s the mushroom quality I don’t care for, along with the slightly slimy texture broken by the rows of seeds that makes me feel a little like I’m biting into a raw sea creature.  Dried figs, on the other hand, are basically candy, a concentration of sugar so sweet and yet so complex that I knew there was something in there worth exploring, even if it wasn’t eating the fruit raw out of hand.

Do something to a fresh fig, however, and you’re in entirely different territory – and when I say something, I mean almost anything.  Poach in red spiced wine for a winter dessert served over ice cream, roast with any number of meats for a restaurant-quality entree, or bake into pies, galettes, tarts, cakes, or custards for a multi-layered flavor extravaganza of a dessert.  Figs are incredibly versatile, and incredibly delicious if you pair them with anything that stands up to their complexity.

figs and prosciuttoThere are several varieties of figs, ranging in color from dark almost black, to almost lime green.  They’ll get softer and softer as they ripen, and are at their sweetest when fully ripe (edible even to the point of mush if you plan on baking or something), but they don’t travel that well once they get close to that stage, so look for a little softness without bruises.  They should feel slightly heavy for their size, and should smell slightly sweet, not sour.  Very firm figs will not ripen further, so don’t buy them.  To prepare them, I like to slice off the hard bit of stem at the top, but otherwise everything is edible, skin, seeds and all.

I love sweet and savory together.  Medieval cuisine, aka gamey meats and dried fruit? Awesome.  Mediterranean couscous salad with raisins?  Bring it.  Chicken salad with grapes? My favorite.  My husband? Not so much.  And by not so much, I mean I sneak the fancy prepared salad bar at Whole Foods when I have to buy lunch, and that is the extent of my exotic pairings.  He doesn’t even do pork chops with applesauce or lamb with jelly (which, come to think of it, neither do I, so I guess our marriage is saved).  So imagine my delight when I not only discovered this dish, but discovered that he loved it.  Sweet, salty, savory – it could be a dessert if you put a sweet balsamic glaze on it, but makes an even nicer salad on top of a bed of arugula and a simple balsamic vinaigrette; but we like them just the way they are: delicate appetizers that you can pop in your mouth, the prosciutto crisp around the edges and the juices of the meat and fig mingling into a salty sweet syrup that pools beneath each morsel.  As fancy appetizers go, they’re fast, decadent, and would be elegant if we didn’t end up licking our plates afterwards.  A true endorsement, indeed.

figs are doneFigs in a Blanket

      • Fresh figs
      • Goat cheese
      • Sliced prosciutto (2 slices per 3 whole figs)

Options: balsamic vinegar, crusty bread, arugula, blue cheese

Slice the figs in half lengthwise.  Slice each slice of prosciutto into thirds lengthwise.  Place a small portion of goat cheese in the center of the fig.

goat cheese figWrap the fig and cheese in a thin slice of prosciutto

DSCF6335fig in prosciutto

fig wrapped in prosciuttoand place in a 400 degree oven for approximately 10 minutes, or until the prosciutto begins to brown and crisp at the edges.  (We cook them on an aluminum foil-wrapped sheet in the toaster oven for easy cleanup – it gets messy.) Serve warm, but not immediately – the centers get very, very hot and we always burn ourselves when we pop them in our mouth too quickly.

Other options?  Drizzle with balsamic for a little acidity to cut the sweetness, serve with crusty bread to sop up the syrup that will form on the pan, or serve over arugula for an elegant appetizer/salad.  Some versions call for blue cheese instead of the goat, so feel free if that’s your preference, but we’ve tried it both ways and in my opinion, the goat lends a sweet tanginess that goes better with the fig.  If you use blue, I would definitely add the drizzle of balsamic.

figs in a blanket

For fresh figs:

Peel/Trim?  No.  Everything is edible, though I do like to cut off the top stem – just a centimeter or two.
Edible seed?  Yes.  Technically, it’s an inside-out flower, but whatever, you can eat the whole thing.
Edible when raw?  Yes.  Best when very ripe.
Worth the price of organic? Unclear.  Figs aren’t that common,  so they don’t show up on various “Dirty Dozen” or “Safe” lists at all, and from looking into growing them, it looks like they’re easy to grow in the right climate, and the main problems that affect fig trees can’t be controlled chemically, so it’s probably a reasonable assumption that conventional figs are not heavily doused in chemicals.  If you’re buying dried, however, I would err on organic because whatever’s there is going to be concentrated in the drying process, as well as probably have sulfites added, as most conventional dried fruit does to keep them moist.
In season: Early Summer briefly, and then Late Summer through Fall for the main crop – though in a place like Southern California where they grow well, you can usually find them all summer long.
Best with: Almonds, hazelnuts, vanilla, orange, cinnamon, black pepper, rosemary, arugula or other sharp greens, gamey or strong meats, rich/creamy cheeses or desserts (custard, ice cream, etc.), deep red, jammy wines (port especially)
How to Store:  In the coldest part of the fridge for up to 3 days, max.  Don’t wash them before storing – if they get wet, they’ll mold quickly.  If they’re already soft or squishy, use immediately as they won’t keep.

Parsimony and Persimmons

02 Saturday Mar 2013

Posted by in Fruit, Miscellany, Orange, Winter, Yellow

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Alright, I took a serious long blog break.  I have unedited photos and half-written posts galore for you all, but somehow (oh, I don’t know, running a new business while parenting a 2 year old and a newborn?) I couldn’t seem to find the time to clean up the posts enough to post them.  So an entire winter has gone by full of turnips and cabbages and various hard squashes and I have left you, the four loyal readers that are out there, bereft of deliciousness.

Fuyu persimmonAnd I’d like to say, but no longer!  But alas, I tried persimmons recently, and, well, I was unimpressed.

I’ve seen persimmons at the market for years now, though before moving to California I had only seen them in still-lifes.  They look like a yellowish to deep orange tomato, or, frankly, rather like a heart ventricle.  [Can you tell my father was a doctor?]  They’re apparently quite popular in Asian and Mediterranean dishes, and that makes some sense to me, as those cuisines tend to not have overly sweet components…but I like sugar in a fruit, and persimmons ain’t it.Persimmon

There are two main kinds you’ll find widely: Fuyu and Hachiya.  The Fuyu tend to be more tomato-y looking while the Hachiya are more oblong, but be sure to ask before you buy.  Both kinds shouldn’t be eaten until they’re ripe, as I guess ‘green’ persimmons are horribly bitter (the Hachiyas are apparently so astringent that they’ll suck all the moisture out of your mouth! sounds horrid), but Fuyus will ripen to pretty firm, something like a pear when it’s just ripe but before it gets juicy, where Hachiyas should be soft and mushy before you eat.  The Fuyus can be eaten when they’re soft, too, but my guy (yeah, that’s right, I’ve got a persimmon guy) said they’re better when they’re a little firmer.  Look for green leaves, not brown, on a Fuyu, and let it get just a wee bit soft to make sure it’s ripe.  For Hachiyas, let them get mushy – go on solidity or lack thereof, not color.

Persimmon seedI didn’t expect the seeds inside, so I’m glad I sliced it open.  I went with Fuyus since spoonable fruit seems like, well, baby food, and I deal enough with that already, thank-you-very-much.  Let me be clear, persimmon lovers, before I get hate mail: I didn’t HATE the persimmon.  I just found it…useless.  It tastes something like an apple or a pear, but without the crispness or juiciness of either.  It’s basically just an innocuous fruit that’s twice the price of more familiar specimens.  That’s it.   You can eat them raw in hand like an apple or slice so you can remove the seeds, and many people like to cook them down into puddings and tarts.  I’ve seen colanders heaped with them at people’s houses and heard exclamations of excitement when the season hits, so I guess I’m turning it over to you, dear readers: What the heck do you do with these suckers to make them worth your while?  ‘Cuz I’m cheaping out.  No more persimmon experiments for me unless it’s going to be fantastic.

persimmon slicesPeel?  No, but you do want to chop off the leaves on top, and if you plan on cooking them, they’re often peeled for texture reasons.
Edible seed? No.  There will be 6 to 8, but they’re pretty big so you can pick them out easily.
Edible when raw?  Yes, though Hachiyas are more often cooked.
Worth the price of organic?  Unclear.  They’re not common enough in the U.S. to make some of the standard Dirty Dozen lists in any capacity – since apples are #1 on the list and other soft-skinned fruits rank in the top 20, I’d err on organic if you plan on eating the skin.  But they’re notably disease and pest-resistant for gardeners, so it’s quite likely that even conventional ones don’t go too heavy on the sprays.
In season: October through February.
Best with: cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg, cardamom, black pepper (warm spices); apple, pear, orange; cream in puddings, panna cottas and cheesecakes
How to Store:  On the counter until ripe, in a paper bag to speed up ripening.  Once ripe, Fuyus can go in the fridge for up to a couple of weeks; Hachiyas can go in the fridge for a few days.

Heirloom Tomatoes

03 Tuesday Jul 2012

Posted by in Fruit, Green, Orange, Purple, Red, Summer, Vegetables, Yellow

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Okay, I overbought on the tomatoes.

But you can’t blame me.  It all started last summer…we overslept one Sunday and raced to the market to try and get there before everyone packed up, which I highly recommend, by the way, if you’re looking for deals.  No one wants to cart crates of perishables back to the farm, so everyone slashes their prices.  Pickings can be slim, but they’ll also be cheap.

Which is how we found ourselves with a GIANT box of heirloom tomatoes for $10.  It probably weighed 20 lbs, maybe more.  It was awesome.  We couldn’t figure out what to do with them – we ate caprese salads and avocado salads and made fresh tomato sauces and fresh tomato soup and ate them raw and sliced for breakfast.  We were so worried they’d go bad that we stuffed them into every meal and somehow managed to finish them off by Saturday.

So the next Sunday we went back for more.  Imagine our shock and chagrin when we casually asked, “Hey, could we get one of those boxes like last week?” and the guy said, “Sure, that’ll be $40.”  Um, what?  Um, no.

Except we couldn’t stop thinking about them.  It’s been almost a year and I can still taste the sweet juice that dribbled all over my hands when I transferred the wedges to a plate, the sharp tang of balsamic and the creamy counterbalance of fresh buffalo mozarella, the aroma of garlic and lemon bubbling in the sauce.  See, once you’ve had fresh tomatoes, and I mean really fresh, I mean ripened by the summer sun and then hours later popped into your mouth, you become very, very spoiled.  I can’t eat grocery store tomatoes anymore.  I can barely eat homegrown Romas or Beefsteaks or any of the other standard-variety-bred-for-toughness-and-shipping varieties.  They taste mealy and bland and chemical-y.  They taste like what I always thought tomatoes tasted like, which is why I swore I must be allergic to them and literally THREW UP when my mom made me eat one as a child.  (Did I mention I was an actress in an earlier life?  Majored in Theater?  A bit melodramatic?  Oh, I didn’t?  Ah.)

So we’ve been tomato-free in our home since last fall.  Oh, we’ve probably cheated once or twice, picked one up for a certain something and been so horribly disappointed we don’t even remember it, but our salads are just greens and dressing these days, twiddling our tomato thumbs and waiting impatiently for the heat that will bring the heirlooms back to market.

So when we went to the market 3 weeks ago and a handful of farmers had them for sale, it was Veggie Christmas [Except when you taste these, you realize why they’re botanically a fruit.  They’re so sweet, they’re practically dessert.  Seriously.  I drizzled fig balsamic vinegar on one and it was too sweet to eat with the meal.  We had to save it for after dinner and have it with tea.]  Determined not to make last year’s Giant Box mistake and overspend, we bought a modest 3 happy fellows and took them home – where we promptly devoured them in about 12 hours.

So this week, when we were a little later to market and one seller slashed their prices by only 50 cents, we dove in.  They’re WAY too expensive, they really are.  Typical prices are $4/lb, and I’m not even sure that’s for organic.  $3/lb is considered a bargain.  But they’re so delicious and unusual and beautiful and you can just put them on anything – you can slice firmer ones or dice ripe ones for bruschetta or mush soft ones into sauce.  They can go in cold things like sandwiches or accidentally get warm like when you dice one on top of an omelette, or get really purposefully hot in ratatouille or soup, and there they’ll still be, sweet and bright and just a wee bit sour.  The really good ones, the heirlooms, the weird varieties, don’t hold up well.  They barely travel well from market to house, much less farm to store, so even heirlooms at the grocery aren’t the same as the ones you can get from the farmer, or grow yourself.  Look for firm but not hard.  A little give is okay; anything soft will turn within a day so eat it immediately.  They do get mealy as they over-ripen, but toss it into a sauce with half a good one to save the flavor and you’ll never notice.  Heirlooms come in every color and size imaginable – from teeny tiny to the size of a shrunken head, round and oblong and lobed and flattish,  in orange and yellow and  red (of course) and striped and purple to almost black and even ones that are still pretty green when ripe, so experiment and see which kinds you like the best – though I did ask a farmer this week and was informed that even green tomatoes should get a yellowish tinge as they ripen.  If it’s still completely green, even with green stripes, it’s not ready.  I like the orangey-yellows, the purples, and the deep reds myself.  Not sure what their names are, but since I’ve only got a few months to eat them, I’m not wasting any more time trying to figure it out.

The best way to eat heirlooms?  Simply.  A drizzle of olive oil, a shake of sea salt, and dive in.  But if you need stuff to go with them, keep everything nice and raw to really let the sweetness shine:

Caprese Salad: alternate slices of tomato, fresh mozarella (the kind that comes in a tub with water – preferably buffalo if you want to splurge, but cow’s milk tastes just dandy, too), and fresh basil leaves.  Drizzle with good quality olive oil, balsamic vinegar, and sprinkle lightly with salt.

Avocado-Tomato Salad: Chop avocado and tomato wedges into similar-sized chunks.  Toss with garlic powder and a dash of salt.  If the tomato is slightly underripe, you may want to add a teeny amount of olive oil or lime juice to get a little juiciness going, but I usually don’t.

Bruschetta:  Dice tomato and as many cloves of garlic as you can stand and mix with olive oil, salt and pepper.  Use more oil than you think you need – it shouldn’t be swimming in it, but all the oil shouldn’t get soaked up by the tomato either.  Let sit for up to a few hours – the longer it sits, the more the garlic will infuse the oil and mellow out, but we often don’t let it sit more than the two minutes it takes to toast the bread.  Lightly toast really nice sliced bread – go artisan here; skip the sandwich bread.  Top the bread with the tomato mixture, spooning the remaining oil in the bowl on to the bare parts of the bread.

Slightly-healthier alternative to above bruschetta: skip the olive oil mix.  Spread good bread with ricotta and top with diced tomatoes, garlic powder, and a dash of salt.  Add sliced olives if you want a little kick.

I could seriously go on and on.  Feel free to post your favorites below!  I’m sure this topic is going to come up again.  A lot.

Peel?  No.  I don’t even peel if I’m making them into a sauce – the skin is thinner than grocery store tomatoes bred for shipping, and I don’t mind it.
Edible seed? Yes.  I don’t like a ton of seeds or my concoctions to be too acidic, so if some of the insides leak out on to the cutting board, I don’t mind; some people strain the seeds, especially in a sauce, for texture purposes, so feel free to strain if you like.
Edible when raw?  Heirlooms are best raw, in my opinion, unless you have a ton you need to use up – then go for a same day sauce, not one you’re going to jar and freeze.
Worth the price of organic?  Questionable.  Tomato leaves are poisonous to a lot of animals (humans included) so tomatoes can survive pretty well on their own, and are pretty low on the list for foods that absorb pesticides like the dickens – they used to be high, but recent efforts have lowered their residue.  On the other hand, you’re eating the whole thing, skin and all, so it might be a good idea.  The good news?  Heirlooms are still considered something of a specialty item, so most sellers are organic anyway.  Hence the high price.
In season: Summer.
Best with: Garlic, balsamic, lemon, any kind of cheese but soft cheeses really let the complex flavor of the heirloom shine, almost any savory herb (basil, rosemary, oregano are all classics), zucchini, eggplant
How to Store:  On the counter.  Do NOT refrigerate!  Tomatoes leach out their vitamins in the refrigerator and lose their flavor.  Don’t cut into a huge tomato if you’re only going to use half, if you can help it – find something to put it in or have a few extra slices than you intended.  Ripe tomatoes that aren’t yet soft will keep up to a week; if they’ve got a soft spot, you’ve only got about 2 days max, so use it or lose it.

Pluots

10 Sunday Jun 2012

Posted by in Fruit, Purple, Stone Fruit, Summer

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Finally!  Fruit!

I’m a fruit fiend, frankly.  Peaches, nectarines, plums, cherries…and don’t even let me near a basket of strawberries.  Not if you want any, anyway.

But when you’re trying out new stuff, fruit is pretty old hat.  There may be 5000 varieties of peaches in existence, but when all is said and done, you eat it like a peach, amiright?

Still, the number of varieties can be daunting.  Take pluots, as I did at the market today.  Pluots are a hybrid of plums and apricots that go a little heavier on the plum than the apricot, but within that description, there are a whole range of varieties, and each one tastes a little different.  I very much like the ones that are often called Dinosaur Eggs or the other speckled varieties, but I haven’t seen those around just yet.  Maybe they’re later bloomers.

Pluot skin, of any variety, is a bit more speckled than plain old plums, but otherwise they really can look almost identical if you get the dark ones like I picked up today.  Pluot skin is smooth like plums, not fuzzy like apricots, and until you get your favorites memorized – and even then, unless you know your farmer or something – pluots are one fruit that you absolutely HAVE to sample.  Pluots will always have a touch of sour, but they can also be very sour.  Some of that depends on the ripeness of the fruit, of course, but I’ve found that a lot of it is varietal.  These were listed as Santa Rosa Pluots, which I’ve not heard of before, but am assuming they’re hybridized off Santa Rosa Plums.  They have a complex sweetness when ripe, with a tiny hint of sour, sort of the equivalent of really good plain yogurt.

Let them get as ripe as you dare, almost too ripe, to get them as sweet and juicy as possible. A ripe pluot will have a small bit of give rather than be hard, but they don’t smell very floral the way peaches or apricots do, and they only get quite soft when they’re almost overdone, so ask if you’re not quite sure how ripe yours are.  Since a lot of pluots have greenish skin, hints of green near the stem aren’t a good indicator.  Pluot meat can be anywhere from yellowish to almost purple, sometimes even greenish-purple, though if it’s greenish on the inside that usually means it’s not ripe.  Otherwise, the variety is as endless as, well, the varieties of pluots.

Because of their complexity of flavor, I prefer to eat pluots straight up (unlike every other stone fruit, which I prefer to bake into innumerable delicious items that all go great with ice cream…).  If they do get too ripe, or if they are far too sour, saute with a little cinnamon and eat as a saucy dessert.  If they’re too sour, add a little sugar to the mix, and you can always add a little butter, but when they’re simply overly ripe they really don’t need it.  If you have any recipes in which pluots really shine, post below!

Peel?  Nope.  The skin is delicious – a little sharp around the edges, a little bit of chew like apple peels, but perfectly lovely.
Edible seed? No.  It’s a stone fruit.  This variety at least, is not a freestone, which means a lot of peach meat will hang on to the pit – another reason to just eat it straight up.
Edible when raw?  Definitely.  Wait until ripe.
Worth the price of organic?  The consensus is yes.  Stone fruits are notoriously hard to grow, which means if someone’s growing them conventionally, they’re likely loading up on all sorts of chemicals to keep all the enemies at bay.  While pluots aren’t specifically listed on most “Must Buy Organic” lists, plums are high on the list, and since you’re eating the skin usually, I’d err on organic all the way.
In season: Summer.
Best with: A sunny day and a napkin.
How to Store:  Ripen on the counter, in a paper bag to speed the process.  Store on the counter if you plan on eating soon; put them in the fridge if you want them to keep a few days longer.  Once ripe, they’ll keep on the counter about 2 days, in the fridge maybe as many as 4, but that’s pushing it.

Pretty Sure It’s an Alien Egg…

07 Saturday Jan 2012

Posted by in Fall, Fruit, Green, Melons, Orange, Spring, Summer, Winter

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Okay, so this isn’t from the farmer’s market, it’s from the grocery store, but I mean, just LOOK at the thing:

How do you NOT wonder what the heck it is?  Yeah, yeah, read the sign.  Thank you.  The grocery store claims that it’s called a Kiwano Melon or Horned Melon (one store said “Horny Melon.”  Ha!  Yes, I’m a twelve-year old boy at heart.)  The Internet claims that it’s one of the few sources of thirst-quenching liquid in the Kalahari Desert.  Seeing as I am not in the Kalahari Desert, I just haven’t gotten off my duff to go to Trader Joe’s and buy some water lately, I was dubious, yet hopeful.  Trying foods you’ve never seen before is an optimistic endeavor – I keep hoping to find something a-MA-zing like Uglifruit, or better yet, crème brûlée I can grow on a vine.  (What’s uglifruit you ask?  It’s a seriously ugly fruit that I used to see at Whole Foods in Chicago in January.  They only grow it in Jamaica, I think, and for the life of me I can’t find one in Los Angeles.  I’ve been looking every winter for over ten years.  It’s like a peach decided to dress up like an orange on the inside and a troll on the outside.  It’s awesome.  If I can find one, it’ll be a post topic one of these days.)

So would the kiwano melon turn out to be my new extravagant long-sought love?  Alas, no.  But first, what to do with it.  A ripe kiwano is oblong-shaped and bright yellowish-orange with spikes all around.  Cut it open either horizontally or lengthwise and you’ll find this: 

Green, seed-filled goo.  I’m really selling this, aren’t I?  But it is what it is.  The interior is filled with little gelatinous sacks that each contains a seed.  For a little botany in your life, I expect the purpose is to protect each seed from drying out so there’s a chance a few can survive even the Kalahari sun.  Evolutionarily, it’s ingenious.  Practically, it’s a pain in the ass.  You see, to enjoy said goo to its fullest, you need to spoon some out, put a little in your mouth, and try to just eat the goo without eating the seed.  You sort of bite down on the tip of the seed to hold it in place and suck off the jelly-like casing.  It’s not something you want to do in public.  It’s messy, a little gross, and feels a little creepy, like you’re sucking on eyeballs or something.  Okay, now that I’ve made you NEVER want to try one, I should put in the disclaimer – it’s the consistency of jello.  If you like jello, you may not find this whole process that distasteful.  I hate jello.  It feels like I’m sucking on eyeballs.  So there’s that.

But I also have to add: to me, the only possible appeal of jello is how easy it is to eat.  It’s why they serve it to people in full-body casts.  So if you just take jello and make it hard to get to…well…you’ve lost me.  The flavor is pretty nonexistent as well.  There’s a hint of melon in there, but so subtle that it’s almost nil.  It’s like honeydew but without any of the sweetness and almost no juice whatsoever.  If this is how you quench your thirst in the desert, I have learned that I do not want to ever be stuck in the desert.  Some have said it’s reminiscent of cucumber, but there’s not nearly that much flavor to it.  It’s very, very subtle.

Now the lazy among you out there (me! me! oh that’s me!) might think, Forget the goo-sucking, you pansy.  Just eat the stupid seeds.  And you’re right.  You can.  I did.  You know when you’re enjoying a nice ripe cantaloupe and all of a sudden you get an accidental seed that slipped through?  It’s got that sharp taste of melon-flavored rock?  That’s exactly what the seeds taste like.  They’re not awful or anything; they just taste like melon seeds and make the whole mouthful taste like melon seeds instead of subtly-flavored goo and make you wonder why you paid three bucks for this alien egg.

Now it does have its good points, I’m sure.  For starters, my toddler kept coming back for more spoonfuls, seeds and all.  This is a child whose favorite food since he started solids is sauteed spinach, so granted, he’s a weird kid,but clearly there was something likeable about the thing other than the fact Mom was eating it with a strange expression on her face. I also think that if you like pomegranate seeds or similar in, say, a salad, but the flavor’s a little strong, this would give you the same textural effect without the berry flavor, so that might be nice.  As decor, the thing’s gorgeous.  They keep on the counter for months and look smashing in centerpieces, or you can hollow them out and they have very cool pockets you could stuff something more tasty inside as serving bowls.  You could also stab it with a pointy stick and make a very effective mace out of it, I imagine. 

It has its uses.  If you try one and like it, let me know.  More importantly, let me know WHY.  Were you stuck in the Kalahari?  Ah, that makes sense then.

Peel? Scoop, really.  A few websites say that the peel is edible with salt or sugar, but I haven’t been able to find any particulars.
Edible seed? Yes, but not preferred.
Edible when raw?  Yes, straight out of the shell.
Worth the price of organic?  They’re so rare as it is, I don’t know if there are even organics available.  Personally, I don’t think they’re really worth the price at all, except as a novelty.
In season: They need hot, desert conditions, but if those exist, they’re in season.  Currently, they’re grown in Africa, New Zealand, Australia, and California, and a different cultivar in Latin America.
Best with: cocktails seem to the popular use, and fruit salads.  The seeds are unusually high in iron, for a fruit.
How to Store: On the counter, not in the fridge.  They’ll keep for up to three months.

The Illustrious Avocado

01 Sunday Jan 2012

Posted by in Brown, Fall, Fruit, Green, Spring, Summer, Vegetables, Winter

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Alright, so an avocado isn’t the most exotic food to start a page called “Strange and Yummy,” but when you grew up with your vegetable choice of frozen peas, frozen corn, or the more mysterious frozen mixed vegetables – consisting of frozen peas, frozen corn, frozen carrots, and the dreaded lima bean – an avocado was a revelation.  Other than pre-sliced on my California Turkey sandwich at Au Bon Pain, I don’t think I saw an avocado in the flesh until I actually moved to California at the age of 20. 

If you’re an avocado newbie like I was, you might be wary of their alien bumpy skin, afraid of their fatty reputation, or worried about what occasionally appears to be green goo oozing out of the sides of the sandwich.  You shouldn’t be.  An avocado is nature’s mayonnaise.  Well, okay, if you hate mayonnaise, you might not like an avocado.  A ripe avocado is silky and almost eggy in its richness.  If you splash it with fruit vinegar you’ll notice that an avocado is technically a fruit, not a veg, but an avocado really shines with fresh garlic, ripe tomatoes, shellfish like crab and shrimp – especially with a sharp acid to counter the smooth, slightly sweet avocado, like a splash of lemon, lime or balsamic vinegar.  An avocado is equally at home mashed into a guacamole and served with chips or served in a crystal martini glass filled with fresh ceviche, in California rolls, in salads, and divine in a BLT. 

Okay, it’s definitely weird that a fruit can be fatty.  That just seems…wrong, doesn’t it?  I’d think it was unfair somehow, but the nice part at least is that at least avocados are full of the good kinds of fat – you know, the kind that gives you boobs instead of love handles.  Wait, that’s not what that means?  Oh.  Anyway, it’s full of yummy yummy good fat and lots of vitamin E, which doesn’t show up in tons of places and is absorbed best with food instead of supplements and is super good for you but now I forget why because all the knowledge on nutrition I used to have memorized has been replaced with versions of the Alphabet Song.  The perils of having a toddler.

So what to do with it?  First, you’ve got to know what to look for.  A ripe avocado should have a little give when you squeze it; if it’s soft or actually squishy, it’s overripe.  It might still be good in something mashed into oblivion, but it will be too squishy to holds its shape in anything else.  Don’t squeeze too hard or too obviously though – ripe avocados actually bruise pretty easily, and sellers don’t like people mushing up their produce. 

Avocados start out with bright green skin (some varieties are quite smooth, most regularly available kinds are bumpy) and turn brown as they ripen.  Again, too brown and it’s too ripe.  A little hint of green is a good thing to look for unless you plan on using it as soon as you get home.

 

Cut the avocado in half lengthwise, but watch out for the big pit, and watch out for your hand.  That’s how I got this scar:

Okay, you can’t really see it, but I know it’s there and it hurt like a sonofabitch when I stabbed myself with the tip of the steak knife.  I never use the right knife for the job, by the way. 

The inside will be greener towards the skin, paler towards the pit, and will usually get a little yellowish when it’s really ripe.  If it’s hard – not apple hard, even just green-tipped banana hard – it’ll be bitter and gross.  You want it soft and creamy – if there’s any separation of layers or brown spots, cut them out and use the rest.  See these?

That’s separation.  This guy’s getting close to guacamole time.

Something I just discovered from a grower this fall?  You can keep avocados in the fridge to stop them from ripening.  I know, I know, you can do that with almost everything, but I’d always heard avocados were counter fruit.  Not so!

You can use the sharp tip of a knife to jab the pit and pluck it out – envisioning some enemy’s eyeball if it makes you feel a little more badass when making a salad – but I’ve got issues with knives slipping away from me (see nonexistent scar above), so I like to sort of wrestle it out with a fingernail even if it mangles the pretty indent a bit. 

Use a big spoon to get between the thick skin and the avocado flesh and take out the whole half at once, then slice, dice, julienne or mash to your heart’s content.

So now to the yummy part…Yay!  I love avocados.  I could eat them almost every day.  I personally don’t like them even the least bit warm – maybe someone out there has a recipe that uses them cooked, but I haven’t seen one – so I don’t even like to put them on top of something like an omelette until it’s already on the table.  My favorite way to eat them is the simplest: cut one avocado and one tomato that’s roughly the same size into roughly the same size chunks.  Add a little raw red onion if you’re feeling snazzy.  Drizzle with balsamic vinegar and maybe the tiniest bit of olive oil if you want more of a dressing, sprinkle with salt and garlic powder and enjoy!

Except once you’ve had farmer’s market tomatoes fresh from the sun in summer, grocery store tomatoes in the dead of winter are pale pink lumps of tastelessness, so instead I’ll be eating today’s purchase in my secret non-dairy tuna salad recipe:

Mash half of one ripe avocado.  Drain one can water-packed tuna and mix together.  Add a splash of lemon juice and some garlic powder if you’re more adult-like, or a teaspoon of pickle relish if you’re a traditionalist.  Voila!  Tuna salad without the mayo.   I had some lovely pics of it piled elegantly on crackers, but when all is said and done, well, tuna salad, even with avocado, looks a little like pinkish mush.  And I accidentally deleted them from the camera while they were downloading.  But trust me, it tastes delicious.

This is how I get my son to eat avocado, by the way – he used to love it raw when he was just starting solids, but now he wants nothing to do with it, so I have to hide it in tuna salads so he gets that precious vitamin E.  What’s that for again?

Peel? Definitely – skin is inedible.
Edible seed? Nope.  Pit it.
Edible when raw?  Definitely.  At its best.
Worth the price of organic?  Not really.  Their thick skin protects them from absorbing most pesticides.
In season: Haas avocados (the most common kind available) from January through fall in California.  Since they’re a more tropical fruit, they’re usually in season somewhere in the world all the time.
Best with: shellfish, garlic, cilantro, tomatoes, red onions
How to Store: A heated debate, especially when cut into, which we’ll get into another time.  Whole avocados can be stored in the fridge to make them last longer or on the counter to ripen.  Once ripe, store in the fridge for two days to a week.  If you overbought, you can puree the ripe flesh with a squeeze of lemon or lime juice and freeze for up to five months.