Rainbeau Ridge Weblog

Gizmos & Gadgets

In lisa’s kitchen, we offer cooking classes to inspire home cooks to master basic skills, learn new techniques and find inspiration stemming from the garden’s bounty.  We ‘promise’ at least on ah-ha moment in each class and after almost ten years we haven’t disappointed.

A running joke is that the kitchen generally has all the necessary tools and then some.  So when a chef says he needs a microplane, it’s there; a silpat, check; squeeze bottle, got that too;  mandoline,  immersion blender, no problem.  You might say any cooking program worth its salt would have these items.  I would agree.

But over the years I have acquired some kitchen toys that might not fall into the essential category.  For instance, there’s the pasta maker, no, not the roller type but the one that you add ingredients, point and shoot.  The apple/peeler/corer may have been fun for the first spiral it created and then got relegated to the bottom drawer.  And we can’t forget the onion goggles, a gift.

As unnecessary as they may be, gadgets are fun.  My daughter Bari came home recently from a party in NYC where a whipped cream maker was repurposed to extract flavors from ingredients and infuse liquor.  After hearing her description of this molecular gastronomic event, we rushed out to our favorite local store, Charles Dept Store in Katonah where we knew we’d find the device.  Returning home, we assembled strawberries and bananas, coffee beans, chocolate and almonds and set at infusing vodka, supplied by my sister Karen, co-conspirator in this kitchen chemistry experiment.  The results were delicious—but I sent the gadget home with Bar, knowing its fate if left with me.

Recently, back in lisa’s kitchen, we needed some freshly squeezed lemon juice so naturally it was time to talk gizmos & gadgets.  In its simplest form, taking a lemon, rolling it gently on the counter, slicing along the equator and inserting a fork, efficiently extracts the prized juice.  But then there are reamers (recently featured in Florence Fabricant’s New York Times column), citrus presses and of course electric juicers (yes I have two of those!).  While I love having the juicers when I’m doing multiple fruits for my sponge cakes, I can’t help but chuckle as I pull them out, use and clean them before returning them to disuse for many months.

At the end of the day, my vote is for simplicity.  To cook, you don’t need gizmos and gadgets—all you really need are a set of great knives (also available at Charles) and fire. 

Desperately seeking bluefish-- from pond to plate

Without any real forethought, Mark & I set out on a weekend away.  It was our anniversary and for business reasons, we needed to be in Boston (one of our favorite cities) so we improvised from there, retracing old haunts from Massachusetts to Rhode Island to Connecticut and home.  The routes were familiar but the food fest was new and fabulously delicious!

 

The tickling of the taste buds began in Boston’s financial district at Radius, run by Chef Michael Schlow.  From James Beard to Food & Wine to all the Boston Magazines, the awards and accolades are too numerous to count.  Lunch was a treat, the flavors of spring were harmonious as well as beautifully presented and accented with the help of some molecular gastronomy.

 

Although hunger didn’t drive us, the reviews did—we moved on to Providence, where despite passing through a million times, we’ve never spent a minute.  Our dinner reservation was at Local 121.  As you can imagine, I was drawn there by the attention paid to local fare—from veggies to fish to brews.  Honestly, the food of Chef Dave Johnson was among the best I’ve had in a long time.  The flavors were complex yet uncomplicated.  Without a doubt Mark & I couldn’t get enough of the bluefish pate.  You might wonder what the big deal was -- it was smoky yet light, lemony but not acidic—we might have made a meal of the pate alone but entrees arrived and did not disappoint.  My honey-miso glazed salmon might make you a skeptic thinking this dish is ubiquitous but I swear it was magical.  With no room for dessert, we left vowing to return.  We’ve even plotted about routing through Providence on our next trip to Beantown just to get back to Local 121.

 

It turns out, Providence is a quite a food town.  Numerous restaurants, too little time.  We considered a movable feast but would have needed a designated driver!  We did take in the Saturday farmer’s market, Farmstead Cheese Shop and artisanal bakeries (like a busman’s holiday…).  At the market in the park, we found a local fisherman selling none other than smoked bluefish—the very same that is used in the divine pate of Local 121.  Unfortunately, we were 36 hours from home so a purchase seemed out of the question.  We did find out that the fish monger would be at a Sunday market in CT but…

 

Fresh fruit smoothies in Newport, pastries on Federal Hill, brunch in the jewelry district and dinner in an iconic Italian eatery, I’m afraid to get on the scale.  Despite the range of fare, we schemed the whole ride home about bluefish—would Mt Kisco Seafood have it? Could I smoke it on the grill? Who would debone it?!?  The mystery was solved when we diverted off the interstate into small town CT to stalk the fishmonger—as they husband and wife duo were packing up their last few pieces of seafood, we snagged the treasured fish.  Inspired by the garden, our shaved beets with mint and tarragon, sautéed zucchini and garlic scape pesto accompanied our dinner in the best restaurant ever—home!

A Different Lens . . . Fowl Play

Want a good laugh?  Try to imagine this.  Your friend Julie can officially say she caught a flying baby turkey.  In midair.  Yup, in the basement of the farmhouse.  How’s that for a visual?  I’ll tell you how it happened as I welcome you back to our Cineplex where comedy is a regular feature, particularly in this one wing of the farm complex. 

It all started when a couple of our high school volunteers were cleaning two of the cages that house 22 baby turkeys that hatched a little over three weeks ago.  It’s a bit of a chaotic assignment to begin with, meaning the turkeys aren’t always the most cooperative.   As the volunteers started the cleaning process, two of the birds escaped and kept escaping their grasp.  Instinctively, I raised my hands and grabbed the turbo-flying turkey like I was catching a perfectly thrown Tom Brady pass, only it wasn’t quite as graceful as it sounds.   Still, I caught the little guy and it surprised the hell out of all of us—me more than anyone, for sure.  We broke out into hysterics.  Turkeys are not the smartest of all farm animals, but they’re often a great source of humor.

Another humorous turkey incident occurred just before the babies were old enough to be transferred out of the basement.  While Ron was working in the turkey pen, a few of the adult turkeys broke into the peacock section of the bird “paddocks".  Talk about an odd juxtaposition of feathery friends—who knew turkeys and peacocks and their female counterparts would get along so well?  And because they get along so well, the new poults have their own pen to themselves while their elders live with the peacock and peahens!

This brings me to the grand ‘ol musical, another feature that pops up every now and then on the farm.  Genki (Japanese for Uber healthy, being the only survivor of her 3 other siblings) has recently been integrated with her own kind.  We originally thought she was a peacock; it took a couple months for her markings to come in.  To our collective surprise we discovered he was a she.  We had to keep her isolated from the other adults (another potential killing field “amongst their own kind”) until she was fully-grown. 

Blair and I kept her company on many a cold winter night, climbing into her pea hen house, preening and petting her while I would sing, “The Hills Are Alive With The Sound Of Music,” and Blair would do her very best Maria Callas by singing opera.

As a little side note—I missed my Royal Wedding photo op, with adult Genki adorning my head, making for a great headdress, hands down, and no competition on this one!

Not too long ago another wonderful discovery took place while I was milking a few of the nervous goats.  Turns out that my mellifluous singing relaxed them almost immediately.  There’s a theme here.  I found myself singing to Llulu the lama while on our walks (yes, like a dog on a leash), and also singing to the tomatoes while they were in their recovery.  Who knew singing show tunes from The Sound of Music for my eighth birthday would become so useful in my adult life on the farm?  It’s crossed my mind to invite Julie Andrews to Rainbeau Ridge.  I’m sure it would make her sing, too.   And I do believe Lisa will be naming one of the kids Julie.  So, Dear Julie Andrews, if you happen to read this blog . . . you’ll see these hills are definitely alive.

-Julie

Lucy and Ethel, Rainbeau Ridge Style

For the last couple of days I’ve been eying the strawberry patch in my backyard.  Like so many magical perennials, the berry plants somehow endured the frigid winter and reappeared this spring, most recently prolific with flowers.

Having just talked to our cooking class attendees about the joys of fresh, local, organic strawberries and how they should freeze them to help get through the winter, I was anxious to enjoy the first red fruits but torn about consuming now vs saving for the winter.  That decision was made easier as the unseasonably warm temps coaxed forth so much fruit, swelling their size, shining up their color.  

The sun-kissed berries burst with flavor.  I found myself picking three and eating one, picking two, eating one.   And they kept coming!  Lifting up the leaves that camouflaged the fruit, I discovered more and more as I went down the rows.  In a Lucy & Ethel chocolate factory moment, I couldn’t seem to pick fast enough or consume enough.  With red juices staining my fingers and lips, I decided to call it a day and bring my treasures inside. Sharing some with family, others were headed for my frozen stash.

There are a lot of reasons to look forward to tomorrow—now I have one more! 

-Lisa

A Pleasant Day in Pleasantville

A day at the farmer’s market is the ultimate in marketing your product—you know from the look on a customer’s face, instaneously, whether your product is a hit or not.   We offer samples to passersby, most accept eagerly; some insist they do not like goat cheese—but an occasional soul will try bravely.  From fresh and clean to more robust, the preferences sort out and after a few weeks, the regulars beeline back to the tent to purchase their favorite.

For us it’s an early start to the day, packing up cheeses, ice, tents, tables and decorative touches. With the car fully loaded, the ride down the Saw mill Parkway is easy this time of the morning.  Hoping the weather is in our favor (both for customer flow and our comfort), we find our spot and begin unpacking.

Last weekend was the 2011 season opener —as vendors unloaded, some up since 3am, making the long drive from their upstate farms, returning ones greeted each other and newbies checked out the scene, figuring out which 10 foot section belongs to them.  Several vendors had participated in the ever growing indoor winter markets but for many of us it’s been six months off.  So it’s a reunion of sorts, family coming back after the long winter holiday.  Greetings, news updates, hugs, and more break the quiet of the early morning as it morphs into a calm buzz in anticipation of the first customers.

For customers it’s a reunion too—emerging from homes on these lovely spring days, walking dogs, chatting with neighbors, sampling the day’s products.  As they stream towards our tent, a smile of recognition on their faces, they offer warm greetings as they tell of missing the cheese for all these months.  I beamed at the sight of a one year old, who I knew as a bump in his mom’s belly when she asked whether our cheeses are pasteurized a year ago.  Couples banter as they try to remember which cheese was their favorite.  Others boast at having eaten at area restaurants and enjoying, as an insider of sort, the cheese there. 

If I have any doubts about why I do this, a day at the market is a good reminder why!

-Lisa

A Different Lens . . . Now Playing

I bet you’re wondering what’s playing at the Rainbeau Ridge Cineplex this month.  Of course, we have our usual full range of comedy and drama, but if you like horror films we’re featuring a story about some fierce creatures making their presence felt with a vengeance. 

Grubs, mealy bugs and bean aphids are on the attack.  The title of their blockbuster smash is, “Seek and Destroy.” As spring unfolds these over-wintered alien monsters rear their ugly heads and zero in on almost everything that has been transplanted or direct seeded on the farm.   They’re on a mission from hell to decimate everything they land on.   These nasty little creatures are equal opportunity bullies -- they don’t care what plants they mess with.   They love the 6 varieties of cabbage we planted.  They’re obsessed with the Napa, broccoli, purple and cheddar cauliflower we’re growing.  And literally, right before my eyes, I witnessed a throng of beetles razing whole plant beds; it was like a David Copperfield disappearing act. 

Oh, and we got quite a scare from the potential reappearance of Late Blight.  As you may remember, when LB touched down on the East Coast 2 years ago, it took down all the tomatoes in the North East. Talk about having a freak out, we had over 300 tomato plants, 75 of which were to be transplanted and the rest made available for the farm’s annual plant sale.  It was the same fungus that brought down Ireland during the Great Potato Famine. That episode sent me into a full-on panic attack until we reached out to one of the legendary farmers I’ve been so lucky to be in contact because of Lisa’s wonderful connections.  The legend that is Annie Farrell (she co-designed a great deal of the farm for Lisa) suggested a remedy that saved all 22 tomato varieties just in the nick of time before they were to be transplanted into the pool garden (drilled holes and filled with soil when the farm was started), while the balance of tomatoes, tomatillos, peppers and eggplant were also rescued so they could be sold at the sale this week as well (I'm so proud that we had over 20 varieties of healthy tomato plants to offer, along with more than 13 peppers and tons of eggplants).  Good thing these horror films have happy endings.    

To be honest, I was struck by my obsession with all these creatures.  Where did it come from?  Why was I losing sleep thinking about bugs and their impact on everything we do here?   Then it hit me.   Under my adult peace/love and all things natural veneer I realized what a terror I was as a little girl.  I loved killing bugs with potions I created in the kitchen.  I took great pleasure in burning them to a crisp with micro-fine glass.  It’s the stuff therapy is made of and while I can’t change the past… it has fueled a different kind of obsession these days.  

As an adult, my interest in these creepy crawly characters demanded that I hit the farm library and read anything and everything I could find about bugs, fungus and diseases.  And if it wasn’t in the library I spent nights on the internet trying to Google as much information as possible.  The farm has made me a different person.  I’ve said on more than one occasion how what a wonderful opportunity this has been to date, but this was bugging me (sorry, I couldn’t resist).  I was reading everything I possibly could.  If there was something I didn’t know, I would call the organic insecticide companies and talk to their experts for further clarity and education.  If there’s such a thing as a healthy OCD, I had it now.   No joke. 

If I was still unclear about something I’d reach out to Jerry, my contact at the Cornell Garden Extension Program for our county.  I’ve been having bi-monthly phone conversations with him since Isaac left, and Jerry’s finally making it to the farm this week.  Upon Lisa’s suggestion we’ve invited him to join our weekly garden co-op meetings.   I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wanted Jerry to myself to answer my laundry list of questions, but that would take hours, if not days.   And my true egalitarian nature is to share, so I’ll abandon any selfish thoughts for the benefit of us all, because Jerry’s wealth of knowledge has to be shared.  

What we experience here is a Close Encounter of the Extraordinary Kind, where horror stories and alien visits morph into incredible learning experiences that help us all grow.   Yes, life here at Rainbeau Ridge can be other-worldly.  Just like the movies… only here we don’t have to suspend our disbelief… what happens in our farm Cineplex is real.  It’s visual.  Emotional.  Thrilling.  Scary.  Heartwarming.  Sustaining.  And just plain amazing!

-Julie