Spring

I think most people who shop at farmers’ markets are willing to pay a little more for produce because it’s fresher. There are certain items, however, that are notorious for causing people to balk, such as passionfruit, figs, and, currently, cherries.

These fruits all share common traits: they are unique in flavor and appearance, their season is maddeningly short, and they elicit awe in their viewers. Seriously. This past Sunday, I was expecting harp music to start emanating from the cherry table. It’s no surprise; who can resist gushing over fresh cherries? Both kids and adults are smitten by their cheerful color and juicy sweetness. In fact, one farmer was generously offering samples of bing cherries (pictured above) and was practically sainted by grateful market-goers. It doesn’t take much to make us happy.

Despite our love affair with this precious fruit, some people can’t help but haggle over the price, which is about $6-8 per pound. Let me tell you something: No amount of pleading or applauding will get farmers to budge on the price. Why? Because cherries are difficult to grow. They are highly susceptible to insect damage and disease and need to be carefully monitored. They are also highly dependent upon good weather. Even if the cherries make it to fruition, they are prey to birds that are attracted to their bright red color and sweet juice, and typically need to be protected with netting or cheesecloth. Finally, they must picked carefully and are highly perishable, since they do not ripen once harvested. This all adds up to a labor intensive and expensive fruit to produce, which is why the price is high.

It was one of those days.  I had run all over town doing errands when suddenly it was 5 o’clock and I remembered that the fridge was uncharacteristically empty.  I got home, ran up the stairs, ran into the kitchen slightly panicked (the Mom must be fed) and saw that the Farmers Market Fairy had come.  Really. That’s what Linda calls herself.  And in that moment I could have kissed her.  

For years I had to be in the studio at KCRW every Wednesday morning for interviews so that meant I missed the Santa Monica market every week.  Until Linda came into my life and started shopping for me.  Now she’s my biggest luxury.  Sitting on my counter were fresh strawberries, kumquats, spigariello, spinach, green garlic, CHERRIES!, Roan Mills bread and peas.  Shelled peas, no less.  

It’s funny how things come together in the kitchen. This week I’ve had lots of fingerling potatoes lying around, as I’ve been developing recipes with them for Vegetarian Times magazine. As it happens, I also treated myself yesterday to a watercress gathering excursion. Nice to be out in the quiet of the early morning under clearing skies, walking along a damp compost-y path beneath a gradually thickening canopy of budding branches. (Buds—finally.) I had my little scissors, a bag, and my camera. Sadly, I couldn’t linger long—lots of recipe testing scheduled for the day. But I crouched low in the black mud, hung over the stream, and snipped enough crisp clusters of Leprechaun-green watercress to fill my bag. And then reluctantly carried on my way. Retreating out of the cool forest, I heard the buzz of cars on the roadway calling me out of my reverie.

Back home at lunch time (after another recipe test—Asian slaw), I looked at the fingerlings and the watercress and thought: Warm salad. It’s no secret that my favorite way to cook fingerlings is brown-braising. But right then, I wanted instant gratification, and I looked at the little knobby potatoes and thought slicing them into coins and quick-roasting them would get me my hit. Sure enough, the little coins were golden on the outside, moist on the inside after 20 minutes at 450 degrees.

People say we don’t have seasons in LA.  Oh but we do my friends, we do.  For example, now is Artichoke Season, a time when (if you’re lucky) you can find a farmer harvesting huge heavy artichokes with a long stem still attached.  The artichoke head that we eat is the bud stage of a giant gorgeous purple flower.  As the artichoke ages the “leaves” of the bud open ultimately revealing the choke which turns deep lavender.  For eating you want the bud pretty tightly closed.  And look for heavy artichokes.  Heaviness means freshness.  When the artichoke is freshly cut it’s cells are full of water.  As time goes by the water transpires and evaporates leaving the vegetable light and dry.

You can use the artichoke heads as you wish:  boiled, steamed, stuffed, trimmed and braised, hearts only.  But don’t throw away the stems.  If I’m feeling selfish I simply peel away the fibrous outer portion and munch the tender, crunchy, sweet and nutty inner stem.  If I want to impress then I make this artichoke stem salad.  You get one small portion for each stem.  So it’s fun to have a two course meal.  First, a pretty plated salad, then one big beautiful artichoke each to pluck, dip then scrape with your teeth.