fortification fridays - brandied sweet-n-sour cherries

The New York Times published a recipe for brandied cherries last week, but it was based on sweet cherries. I'm after the holy grail, sour or pie cherries, those fragile ruby beauties that last for only a few days off the tree, and only a few weeks in the market. I threw together this recipe just before leaving for my Evel Knievel Tribute Road Trip with Mr. Reluctant. See you in a week or so!

Based on a recipe for something wonderful called Cherry Bounce, which uses vodka and wild cherries that grow in Louisiana instead of brandy and the mix of sweet and sour cherries I used below, my recipe makes as many brandied cherries as you like. Freeze the rest of the sour cherries you've been able to score with a little sugar to use for pies and cherry soup later in the summer.

Brandied Sweet-n-Sour Cherries

Sterilize two or more quart jars. Buy sour cherries and a few dark cherries, for pretty contrast. Wash cherries well and discard blemished cherries. They don't last long, so use them soon after purchase. Remove the stems but don't bother to pit cherries. The pits add a slightly almondy flavor to the liqueur.

Layer cherries with granulated sugar to cover each layer. Cover with a decent-quality brandy. Store in a dark place for a month. Shake every few days in the first couple of weeks to dissolve sugar and aid maceration. Enjoy over ice cream, use to fortify sangria, add to fondue, sip as a cordial or use as maraschino cherries in Manhattans and the like. That's all, folks!

our first tomato

It was sweet and delicious. I shared it with Sparerib. Happy Bastille Day!

fortification fridays - mound o' green beans

This is my favorite method of cooking green beans. It is especially good with summer beans, and it's based on the Chinese dry-fried string bean recipe you see in Szechuan restaurants. The secret is the initial cooking over high heat. The burned spots add character and a smoky taste. You can sex up these beans by adding pieces of ham or bbq pork, cabbage pickles, garlic, or even a little ground chicken or pork, but I like them plain.

Mound o' green beans

Serves: As many as you like
Kitchen needs: One hot burner

1 lb. or more fresh green beans, ends snapped off
1/2 red onion, thinly sliced
1 t. vegetable oil
1 t. sesame oil
1 t. la yu (hot oil)
5-6 szechuan peppercorns, or a bunch of fresh-ground pepper
kosher salt

Heat a large wok over very high heat. Wash and trim green beans. WIthout adding oil, place green beans in hot pan and let them burn a little bit in spots, turning every 2 minutes or so, until they look wilted. Turn down heat to medium, add onion, oil, and pepper. Continue to cook until beans are wrinkly and soft but still dark green, then add salt (more than you think you'll need) at end of cooking. Mound up on a platter and let people eat with fingers.

all i want for my birthday

...is a new porch light. Well, ok, if you bought me a dining room chandelier, I wouldn't complain. And a few guys to powerwash and paint the exterior of my house. And, um, that kitchen vent? And new cabinets for the kitchen and a fig tree and a carport and a patio and a garden retaining wall and a new bathroom.

This is like "Stone Soup," but opposite.

honey, I'm home

We are so fortunate to live in an amazingly fecund place, the Willamette Valley. This month's Sunset magazine (the Northwest version, at least) features an article on the area. I went to an orchard this weekend just outside of town, and although I was sorely tempted to pick peaches, I settled on a half-flat of the biggest raspberries I've ever seen, perfect green beans, kohlrabi, cukes, walnuts, and a jar of local honey marked 'M/F.'

M/F is "meadowfoam," a marsh plant that apparently produces beneficial oils. It also produces an unusual honey from bees that mess around in its pollen. The farmer told me it tasted like caramel, and she was right. I've never tasted anything like it. It has notes of burnt sugar and what can only be called marshmallow (see list of honey types below).

You can read more about meadowfoam here, which is where I purloined the lovely image.

I always knew honey came in different types, based on the local flowers, and when we moved to Eugene I was delighted to see blackberry honey available everywhere. Blackberry honey doesn't have a marked taste of blackberries, though, and the delight turned quickly to disappointment. It seems, however, that meadowfoam is a local product, perhaps a flash-in-the-pan like the emu or nutria craze, but until they let loose the meadowfoamettes, I'm happy to call this a Willamette Valley specialty.

From this list, you can see how wildly honey varieties vary. Which ones have you tried? Are the descriptions accurate? And more importantly, what should I make with my meadowfoam honey?

fortification fridays - cold cherry soup

It's no secret that I love Hungarian food. This soup is a wonderful, simple way to either start a summer meal or end one. I've also been having fantasies about using it as a sauce over, say, crepes. There is an even better variation with sour (morello) cherries, and more traditional, complicated ways to make the soup (using more spices, cream, an egg yolk, etc.), but this one does in a pinch. And in the middle of the summer, doing in a pinch is good.

Cold Cherry Soup

Serves: 6 in tiny cups (it's rather rich)
Kitchen needs: A stovetop or hotplate

1 lb. pitted, halved cherries (bing are prettiest, but you may also use sour cherries)
1/2 cup Syrah or other intense red wine (Hungarian Bulls' Blood is perfect)
1/2 lemon, sliced and deseeded
4 T. sour cream, mixed with 1 T. powdered sugar
pinch cloves and a few shakes cinnamon, optional

Place cherries in saucepan and barely cover with water. Add lemon slices, wine, and spices to boil, then simmer until cherries soften but don't discolor. Whisk in sour cream and powdered sugar mixture. Simmer until slightly thickened, watching carefully so it doesn't boil, then chill before serving. Cold is crucial. Serve with whipped cream and cinnamon.

Image courtesy of a blog that makes me really sad I don't read Hungarian.

a sucker born every minute

There's a "sale pending" sign on the turquoise cottage. Crazy.