Tuesday, November 15, 2011

Huckleberry pie


There really is such a thing as huckleberry pie. I’ve just made it.
I learned about huckleberries from the country woman at the Farmer’s Market. Among all the young and optimistic organic farmers there, who I imagine are idealistic and out to save the world with local agriculture, there are a few old school folks. This woman is one of them: someone whose family has probably been farming for generations not because they want to get back to the land, but because they were already there. She is a big woman with a face that’s spent years in the sun, maybe without sunscreen, and she seems as though she’d be more comfortable telling you how to fix the tractor than debating the merits of sustainable vs organic designations. She knows a lot of stuff.
Last year, she taught me about “peppercress,” which she pronounced “pepper grass.” Peppercress looks like a pesky weed you’d pull out of your garden (and maybe she did, then slapped a price on the plastic bag full of it) -- but it tastes like a delicately spiced mustard green.
This year, Farm Woman sold huckleberries. I didn’t know they existed, really, beyond the pages of Mark Twain’s books.
These perfectly round, dark, purply-black berries are bitter unless you cook them, Farm Woman told me. People think they taste like blueberries, she said. I bought a quart (exactly enough to make a pie) and took her recipe to go with it.
Add enough sugar and lemon to these and she’s right, huckleberries become something like a blueberry, without the tartness. Depending on your piecrust, they make a respectable pie. Delicious, even.
The magic of huckleberries is that you can make something edible out of an otherwise unappealing plant growing out in your yard, I imagine sort of like a briar patch. And there’s the undeniable kick of nostalgia for bringing an old-timey sounding food out of obscurity and onto my table.
What’s for dessert? Huckleberry Pie. Don’t you so want to say that?

Garden Huckleberry pie
Modified from Homestead Farm, Charles County recipe

4 cups huckleberries
1 ¼ cups unrefined cane sugar
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
¼ teaspoon salt
1 Tablespoon butter
Juice of one lemon
2 tablespoons cornstarch
Pastry for 9-inch pie
Crumble topping (see below)
Stem, wash and drain berries. Place in a heavy pot, cover with cold water and bring to slow boil. Cook until soft – 5 or 10 minutes. Drain, and mash to break skins.
Add sugar, nutmeg, salt, butter, lemon juice and cornstarch. Cook about five minutes or until the mixture thickens.

Make crumble topping:
1 cup rolled oats
½ cup whole wheat flour
¼ to ½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon cinnamon
4 tablespoons butter, cut up
Stir first four ingredients together. Add butter and mash it into the dry mixtures with your fingers until it’s spread pretty evenly throughout.

Assemble:
Place the filling into the pie crust; top with the crumble topping. Bake at 350 for about 40 minutes.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Late season market


Standing at the Takoma Park Farmer’s Market, lines of people teem by with their market bags and baskets overflowing with the fall harvest. Our market is the kind of place where you comment to the stranger who’s picking over the big, fat green beans across the table from you, and say that even though they’re big, they’re tender, here, try a bite. And then you wonder out loud whether you should break them up or cook them whole, and the woman, who is wearing the most extravagant Sunday hat, with feathers flying off of it at least a foot from her head, says, in a sympathetic tone, “Oh, honey, you snap ‘em.” As in, how could you not know this basic cooking rule?
And I thought snapping beans meant just snapping the ends off, when it really means snapping them into bite-size pieces.
And then you see another neighbor who you thought would be the kind of person who would eat her green beans still crispy, and she admits that she likes them cooked to death, with bacon. The old-fashioned way.
This is how I get inspired to cook.
One stall this week has fresh black beans, with instructions on how to cook them (20 minutes, boiling). Wow, we eat a lot of canned or dried black beans, that’s something I’d like to grow. There are turnips and collards and carrots, too, bok choy and kale and onions, potatoes, four kinds of squash, pears and apples.
This is how I get inspired to garden.