I’m sipping a local rosé at a corner table in Nonna Italia ristorante, not far from the ferry stop in the charming old town of Stresa, on Lago Maggiore, Italy. Stresa is north of Milan in lake country, the beautiful region known for mountain vistas, ancient villas and George Clooney’s pad, even though George is at Como, one lake over.
Donato and Roberta Tagliente are the owners of this friendly spot that gets more crowded than a jar of Italian anchovies. During the week, come early or late and dine comfortably; weekends are a madhouse, especially in August, when Nonna Italia is open daily and outside tables spill into the narrow cobblestone walk street.
Summer hours (June through September): Open seven days, but closed for lunch Mondays and Tuesdays except for August, when it is open for lunch and dinner seven days a week.
Winter hours: Closed Tuesdays and for two weeks during Christmas and the New Year holidays.
Pizza Baby for kids and kids at heart
Friendly servers Maya and Alice (fluent in several languages) effortlessly take care of everyone, even though the place is packed with people downing pizzas, risotto and their famous “mixto” plate of three local cheeses, jams and honey, prosciutto, coppa and pancetta with gnocco fritto, fried and lightly salted pizza dough squares, instead of bread.
About 15 years ago, when Puglia-born Chef Donato had a tiny takeout pizza stand, he came up with the idea of a child-friendly pie that invited grumpy kids to dig in with a grin. Pizza Baby was born. He’s now a local celebrity (watch out, George) at 2-year-old Nonna Italia, where children clamor for a sun-shaped pizza with a smiley face.
Don’t get me wrong, this pizza is definitely not just for kids. Donato starts with Italy’s best 00 flour and lovingly forms each ball of yeasty raised dough by hand. Pizza Baby is the same size as a regular pizza, but Donato clips the 14-inch circle of dough with a pizza wheel in 1-inch cuts around the edge in eight evenly spaced spots.
He then brings the dough between two cuts together and pinches it tight to form a triangle; he does this eight times around the pie, finally gently pulling at the points to nudge the dough into a neat circle. The same intensely delicious tomato sauce that’s used for all the restaurant’s pizzas is ladled on top and spread around. Donato then generously covers the sauce with local mozzarella like a heavy winter snow on nearby ski slopes; a paddle slides underneath, and in a flash it’s into the hot oven. A few minutes later, a golden crust with slightly charred edges and bubbly, melted cheese lets you know that the pie is done.
Again using the paddle, Donato slides the pizza onto a serving plate. Now for the fun part: He affectionately arranges two black-olive half eyes, a cherry tomato nose and a curved slice of cucumber for the sun’s bright smile.
As I bite into one of the super-crispy, slightly thick and oven-charred raised triangles, I notice how the yeasty dough’s air pockets add to the sublime texture. This is definitely a flavorful pizza for grownups who love a great crust. Happy faces all around.
View the videos below to see how easy the process is to make the sun shape, and then try your hand at making a Pizza Baby at home. Preheat your oven to the highest setting, and then place the rack and a cookie sheet (or, better yet, a pizza stone) at the lowest level. Use homemade or purchased dough and sauce, and have the few toppings at hand.
Main photo: Nonna Italia’s Pizza Baby. Credit: Nancy Zaslavsky
Mexicans have foraged verdolagas (purslane, or Portulaca oleracea), a native of India and Persia, for centuries, and it remains a favorite green from Tijuana to Cancun. Because the annual plant isn’t a bit fussy about a sprout site, and because it’s a succulent, it germinates easily from a cutting or seed and needs little water once started.
Wild purslane is thrilled with most any sunny spot, where it spreads flat on the ground quickly from a single root and multiplies like chickenpox in kindergarten after it goes to seed. Sadly it’s less cherished in the U.S., where the plant is best known as a common weed and a gardener’s biggest nightmare. Farm-grown purslane, unlike in the wild, grows vertically, and can reach knee high for easy harvesting.
Green with a red blush on some of the 40 cultivated varieties, its edible ½-inch to 2-inch long leaves look like delicate baby jade plants. Larger leaves and stems are crunchy with a mouth feel like cactus paddles and okra but more delicate, with a tangy, slightly salty citrus-pepper bite.
With purslane, flavor depends on when it’s picked
In the book “In Defense of Food,” Michael Pollan calls purslane one of the most nutritious plants on earth. It contains more omega-3 fatty acids than any other leafy vegetable, on par with some fish. When the plant is thirsty, it switches to photosynthesis: At night, its leaves trap carbon dioxide, which converts into malic acid, and in daylight, the acid transforms into glucose. Purslane has 10 times the acid content in the morning vs. when it’s picked in the afternoon, so expect it to be slightly sour in breakfast quesadillas and almost sweet at dinner.
Mexicans cherish the plant’s citrus taste and look forward to the warm summer months when it is widely available. Tiny, delicate half-inch leaves are perfect for salads and to tuck into sandwiches; thick, larger leaves and thick stems cut into pieces are best for a more toothsome bite in cooked dishes, especially soups and rustic stews, where their natural pectin is appreciated for thickening qualities.
I suggest looking for luscious cultivated bunches at a greengrocer, Mexican market or farmers market rather than scrounging around town hunting for miserly sidewalk shoots. Unless you’re a fan of foraging, you probably won’t have a clue what time of day the store-bought purslane was picked; even so, its juicy leaf texture will woo you back for more.
Once picked or purchased, keep purslane fresh for another day or two in a container out of the sun with cut stems in a few inches of fresh water. Most people cut off and discard the thickest, chewy stem bottoms and use only delicate stem tops and leaves in recipes.
As in other Mexican soups and sauces, flavor and texture are everything. This soup is perfect for the family or when friends stop by; if fussy grandmothers are invited to a special-occasion dinner, strain the finished soup for a traditionally upscale smooth liquid.
Purslane from Coleman Family Farm at the farmers market in Santa Monica, Calif. Credit: Nancy Zaslavsky
Purslane, Corn, Squash and Squash Blossom Soup (Sopa de Verdolagas, Maiz, Calabazas y Flores de Calabazas)
Prep Time: 10 minutes
Cook Time: 50 minutes
Total Time: 60 minutes
Yield: Makes 6 servings.
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup chopped white onion
2 to 2½ cups scraped kernels from 3 ears summer sweet corn
3 yellow zucchini or crookneck squash, about 6 inches each
3 cups purslane leaves with delicate stems, 2 tablespoons of the tiniest half-inch leaves reserved for garnish
2 large handfuls squash blossoms, 6 reserved for garnish
1 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
½ teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 cups low-sodium chicken or vegetable broth at room temperature
⅓ cup grated Mexican queso añejo or Parmesan cheese
½ cup Mexican crema or sour cream
Heat the oil in a large pot over medium heat. Toss in the onion and cook, stirring every few minutes until translucent. Add the corn kernels, stir and continue cooking 5 minutes. Cut the squash in quarters lengthwise and then into half-inch slices. Scoop into the pot and stir, cooking another 5 minutes.
Pull off leaves and delicate stems from the thick purslane stems, enough to have about 3 cups. Add them to the pot and stir. Turn down the heat and simmer gently 5 minutes.
Remove the five sharp green sepals at the base of each squash blossom. Snap off the stems from six of the prettiest blossoms and reserve for garnish. Slide the other blossoms and stems into the pot. Cook, stirring for a minute, and then turn off the heat.
Ladle half the hot vegetables into a blender or processor. Pour in 1 cup broth. With the air vent open, purée 30 seconds and pour into the used mixing bowl. Ladle the remaining hot vegetables into the blender with another cup of broth. Purée 30 seconds, but this time pour it into the cooking pot. Scrape the purée from the bowl into the pot with a rubber spatula. Pour in the remaining broth. Bring to a fast boil (big bubbles you can’t stir down), and then lower the heat to a bare simmer for 2 minutes.
Ladle into serving bowls. Garnish each with one of the reserved squash blossoms in the center, a sprinkle of grated cheese, some tiny purslane leaves and a small dollop of crema.
Main photo: Purslane, Corn, Squash and Squash Blossom Soup. Credit: Nancy Zaslavsky
Back in the late 1970s, the cheese industry was just that: a commodity-style big agriculture business. Over the past 40 years, however, an offshoot of wholesale cheese manufacturing began to bloom, giving birth to the robust artisan cheese movement we know today. One little shop in London is, in part, responsible for this transformation.
Neal’s Yard Dairy, originally tucked into a charming courtyard in Covent Garden, is widely recognized as one of the finest purveyors of farmstead and artisan cheeses in the world, but its path to getting there started in an unassuming storefront, selling bulk cheeses of unclear origin.
Cheese shop seeks out handmade cheeses
In 1979, recent food science graduate Randolph Hodgson stumbled upon a job in Neal’s Yard Dairy’s fledgling London cheese shop. The dairy made several fresh cheeses as well as crème fraiche and Greek-style yogurt. Hodgson procured additional cheeses from a wholesaler to round out its offerings but found he knew very little about their sources. This made them difficult to sell in the method that the shop employed — offering detailed tastings to customers.
A farmstead cheese called Devon Garland arrived one day from Hilary Charnley, which was intriguing to Hodgson because now he could put a cheese with a cheesemaker. He went to the farm to learn more, and Charnley suggested other local cheesemakers to visit in the area. Suddenly the door opened up to new opportunities for both Neal’s Yard and farmstead cheeses from the British Isles. He came back laden with cheeses from the Devon countryside and, in the process, learned more about how cheese is made, aged and handled.
From there, Neal’s Yard Dairy grew to include more handmade cheeses from the United Kingdom and Ireland, and the backrooms and bowels of the store became areas for maturing and storing the cheeses. Each cheese was prominently labeled with the name of the cheesemaker and where it was from. Knowledgeable cheese mongers waited on each customer, finding out what they liked and giving them tastes of whatever they wanted to try.
Because the cheeses are properly pampered, the freshness and flavor is unparalleled. “Neal’s Yard Dairy has played a critical role in supporting and promoting fine British cheese,” cheese expert and food writer Janet Fletcher said. “I think of it as a highly reliable brand. Randolph Hodgson has been a tireless advocate for traditional methods and quality, and his influence has been enormous. Montgomery’s Cheddar, Colston Bassett Stilton, Lincolnshire Poacher, Duckett’s Caerphilly … a lot of these classic British cheeses would not be known in the U.S. if not for NYD.”
But Hodgson did far more than just find great cheese made down on the farm. Neal’s Yard Dairy was, and still is, committed to preserving and promoting traditional cheeses as well as improving the public’s awareness and appreciation of them. The goal has always been to create a market for these heritage cheeses and support a livelihood for the people who make them. And it is precisely this model that encouraged others to jump into the artisan cheese business — making, selling or both.
Sue Conley and Peggy Smith from Northern California’s Cowgirl Creamery spent time at Neal’s Yard before they opened their operation. In fact, the first time they actually made cheese was at the dairy. It was 1995, during a visit to learn about all the facets of the business: cheesemaking, retail, aging and wholesale.
Cheeses at Neal’s Yard Dairy in London. Credit: Brooke Jackson
“A light went on for us during that trip,” they write in their recent book “Cowgirl Creamery Cooks.” “We looked at each other and said, ‘We could do that too — we can find cheesemakers in California and create a venue where their products can be sold!’ ”
With the increased focus on slow food and the diversification of the dairy industry in many countries because of the low cost of milk, more people are making cheese than ever before. Twenty years ago, the U.S. had about 75 artisan cheesemakers; now they number in the hundreds. Likewise in the British Isles, where a massive artisan and farmstead cheese revival began in the latter half of the 20th century with more creative dairy people hopping on the bandwagon each year.
Neal’s Yard Dairy has encouraged many of these folks and helped them learn their craft. That influence has spread across the pond, according to Fletcher. “The cheesemakers that NYD nurtured have certainly inspired our [U.S.] cheesemakers,” she said.
Cheese lovers visiting England must make a pilgrimage to Neal’s Yard Dairy, a temple to all things that really matter about cheese. Stepping into the shop near Covent Garden (a second store is located at the Borough Market), the unmistakable barnyard aroma of cheese surrounds you, and wheels and wedges of the stuff create turrets and towers on every available surface. Cheese mongers slice tastes of anything you take a fancy to, and the quality and freshness rate among the top taste experiences for any cheeses sampled. The Colston Bassett Stilton, a cheese I’ve eaten often, had a cleaner flavor and creamier texture than I’d ever encountered, and several cheddars sampled were superb.
Although it may be foolhardy to assume Neal’s Yard Dairy is responsible for the explosion in artisan and farmstead cheesemakers in Britain and the U.S., its continued influence on this burgeoning business is undeniable.
Main photo: Cheese at Neal’s Yard Dairy. Credit: Brooke Jackson
Home away from home. World Cup fans can think back to the lands of their ancestors and use food to recall family memories. But what happens when you’ve moved overseas, specifically to Asia? Inevitably one of the first lists you start is the food you need to pack so you can bring that “taste of home” with you. For my wife, a specific brand of tea tops the list.
We have moved to major tea-producing countries in recent years, includingChina and India, yet she insists on bringing a stash of her favorite tea, arguing the tea bags of the same brand in our new home are simply not the same. And I have to admit, she has a point — manufacturers use different formulas for the same product to cater to local preferences and tastes.
I can guarantee that in the luggage of most expats moving between countries is some food item. These products often reveal a glimpse of the simple things that matter in your life, things you feel you cannot live without. Among your clothing purchases, hard-to-find toiletries and other belongings, there’s a treasure trove of goodies, such as wine gumdrops, marshmallow Peeps, Easter chocolates or your family’s homemade preserves or chutneys.
As you unpack your shipment, you may wonder what made you decide to bring certain items. One friend shared how puzzled she was that she had purchased a large quantity of Rice Krispies and marshmallows, as she did not regularly eat either. A few months later, she realized she thought she would have a regular craving for Rice Krispies squares.
As you settle into a new country, exploring local food markets and tasting new dishes are invaluable ways to learn about the culture and place you now call home. As exciting as this is, it can be a challenge for many to eat unfamiliar foods at every meal.
During the early days of what can be a stressful transition, or when you have a bout of homesickness, it’s natural to turn to the food that nourishes your soul, that you feel keeps you centered and provides you with the comfort of “home.”
Expats look to friends, family to deliver their favorites
When family or friends visit, they become food mules, transporting ingredients you can use to prepare a treasured dish. Sometimes they may be hesitant, as my Mexican friend explained when she shared the difficulty of acquiring freshly ground masa because relatives were concerned immigration authorities would think it was cocaine.
Others will go to great lengths. I was privileged to share a meal at a friend’s house of “imported” Canadian beef that was frozen, wrapped in newspaper and packed in a visitor’s luggage for the 24-hour trip. It arrived fully frozen.
In talking with my expat friends, I’ve discovered that the longer you live overseas, the smaller and more focused your must-have food list becomes. It’s not that your cravings disappear. Many are simply satisfied on vacations or trips home. Rather, as expats, we learn to adapt our wants, finding somewhat suitable substitutes and becoming more resourceful or simply making do. You also learn that the limited space in your (or your mules’) luggage is valuable and reserved only for prized essentials.
Although more specialty shops are opening with a limited selection of imported goods, allowing expats to more easily access essentials like olive oil, olives, cured meats, cheeses, chocolate and occasionally specialty grains and flours, often the products are of average quality, sometimes stale and cost anywhere from two to five times the price you pay at home. Another challenge is they are not regularly stocked, and when they are sold out it may not be available for another few months or longer.
It’s that time of year when many of you are in a state of transition and thinking about what to bring with you to your new home. Apart from reading expat blogs or talking to acquaintances who have lived in your new country, the best resource to find out what staple ingredients are available is to consult a cookbook about the food of the country you are moving to. A quick read of the glossary and pantry section will give you a good idea of items you can easily and affordably purchase.
Below is a list of what I like to call “expat pantry essentials” — items either hard to find or that tend to be really expensive when living in Asia. Use it as a guide to help you focus your needs as you prepare for your move overseas and so you don’t question why you bought it when you finally unpack.
Expat pantry essentials
The greatest complaint I hear from expats is that their baking recipes do not work. Sometimes it has to do with poor-quality ovens, but I think most of the time it has do with the ingredients. Baking powder can be bought virtually everywhere, but the chemical composition of the ones overseas can be quite different than the ones you may be used to.
Real vanilla extract
Chocolate chips (cut-up chocolate bars are great alternatives.)
Coriander, cumin, cinnamon, black pepper, turmeric and cardamom are generally available. If they are only found whole, they can easily be ground to make a powder. The spices and spice blends below are much harder to find.
Kosher salt/Maldon-style sea salt
Indian spice mixes or specialty spices (garam masala, chaat masala, amchur powder, anardana powder)
Dried fenugreek leaves (methi)
Chilies may not seem an obvious choice, but each chili has its own unique flavor profile. This is particularly important when trying to make dishes with a Latin American flavor.
Chipotle chilies in adobo sauce or dried
Jalapeño chilies in brine
Dried chilies from the southern U.S., Mexico, Latin America and India
Grains, pulses and specialty flours
These items tend to be much more expensive than in your home country, especially if they are organic. When not regularly purchased by other expats, there is a greater chance of them sitting on the shelf becoming stale.
Flax seeds (whole or ground)
Pulses/lentils (Du Puy lentils, urad dal, black beans)
Bean and nut flours (chickpea, hazelnut, chestnut)
Gluten-free flour mixes
Red, white, and balsamic vinegars are available. Specialty vinegars are not. Natural syrups are much more expensive. You may be able to find one or the other with marmite and vegemite, but lovers of each will tell you they are not the same. Scandinavians need the occasional taste of pickled fish.
White balsamic vinegar
Apple cider vinegar
Natural peanut butter (low sugar; but a homemade version can easily be made)
Coffee and specialty teas
A comforting, familiar cup of coffee or tea each morning often helps prepare you for the challenges ahead in your day. Bringing your favorite from home eases the daily transitions.
Preferred tea brands from home
Specialty alcohol and bitters
Traditional liquors such as vodka, gin, rum, bourbon and cognac are typically available. National liquors such as aquavit, arak, pisco, schnapps, slivovitz, tequila or bitters will be much harder to find. A packed bottle or two and duty-free purchases are typical for the expat.
Seeds for vegetables and herbs
Small seed packets of hard-to-find vegetables such as kale, Swiss chard, assorted lettuces or Mediterranean herbs such as rosemary, thyme, oregano, lavender, sage, tarragon and Italian parsley are invaluable if you have an area to plant a small garden because it will be rare to find such ingredients in local markets.
Main photo: Expats often pack their suitcases full of their favorite foods from home. Credit: Cameron Stauch
The process of canning food can seem daunting at first. There’s a long list of equipment to assemble, complex instructions to follow, and the nagging feeling that if you do it wrong you may inadvertently spoil the fruits of your labor. I’ve done my fair share of canning, but after moving four times in the past five years, I’ve been repeatedly thrust back into beginner mode. Even for an experienced food preservationist, canning food in an unfamiliar kitchen is like being a newbie again.
With each move and each misplaced box of Mason jars, I have returned to basics. And nothing is more basic to a well-stocked kitchen than canning. I enter my new kitchen like all first-time canners — open to many possibilities as I begin to work in unfamiliar territory. With these tips and strategies you’ll stay organized and ready to preserve that bushel of fragrant peaches you couldn’t resist at your local farmers market.
5 best canning tricks for beginners
1. Create a canning center somewhere in your home.
Nothing will derail your project faster than an inability to find your tools. The location for your canning center doesn’t have to be large or fancy. It doesn’t even need to be in the kitchen. For the past year, I’ve kept my canning supplies in two giant plastic storage containers. One container corrals my canner, various small tools and my favorite canning recipes. The second container is full of canning jars stacked in their original storage flats or carefully wrapped in packing paper. Choose any color you like for your system. (My containers are bright blue — unlike any other storage container I own.) Just make sure that you can identify your canning supplies at 20 paces, even in a crowded storage room or basement.
I hesitate to tell anyone to be a hoarder, but it is necessary to have a selection of jar sizes on hand if you want to can a variety of foods. Whether you’re new to canning or you’ve purged your home of jars before a cross-country move as I did, you’ll need to stock up on jars. Look at your favorite recipes — or recipes you want to try — and see what kind of jars (and how many) the recipe requires. I hoard every canning jar that comes my way. I also watch for sales at my local hardware store and big box stores. Canning jars start going on sale in late summer, especially in stores that consider canning a summer-only pursuit.
You can free up space for your jar stash by purging your home of unnecessary kitchen equipment. I get rid of any tool I haven’t used in two years and generously gift my friends and neighbors with tools I no longer use.
3. Test your equipment before you want to use it.
If you don’t use all the burners on your stove on a regular basis, check them to make sure they’re operational — especially the largest front burner. Check all glass canning jars for nicks and cracks. Be sure that metal rings are free of rust. It’s easy to break a thermometer or discover that the batteries have corroded inside your favorite kitchen timer since you last used it. The time to discover these problems is before you have a flat ofripe strawberries sitting on your kitchen counter. If the tools and jars look OK, wash them in hot soapy water (except electronic devices, of course) and let them dry thoroughly before starting your project.
4. Allow twice as much time as you think you need for the process.
It’s amazing how long it can take to read directions, especially for a beginner. Recipes are usually written for experienced cooks, and I’ve found that they often underestimate the time required. Read the amount of work time suggested by your recipe and double it. This will give you time to hunt down missing tools and still finish your project before you need to pick kids up from school or make dinner. If you finish early, congratulate yourself and use the time to make yourself a cup of tea after all your hard work. The dirty dishes can wait.
5. Conduct a test run.
I do a dry run of every canning project as I start to boil water in my canner. (This is yet another reason to double the time required for any recipe.) It may seem silly — especially if you’ve already read the directions once — but it’s easy to make mistakes or take the layout of your kitchen for granted while working under pressure. You won’t realize how far away your stove is from the closest available countertop until you try to unload a dozen boiling jars from a steaming canner. And potholders always seem to run away just as the timer goes off. A dry run will help you work out the kinks in your process and put the tools you need in the place you’ll need them.
Main photo: Using the best beginner canning tips yields homemade apple butter, sweet pickles, rose water marmalade, tomatoes and green beans, even on busy days in cramped kitchen quarters. Credit: Susan Lutz
In our house, asking for cherry pie means one thing: sour cherry pie. Just as there are “eating apples” and “cooking apples” that differ in acid level and sugar content, these same differences exist between cherries. Sweet cherries — like eating apples — are delicious raw. Sour cherries, with their higher acid level and lower sugar content, will make you pucker if you pop them into your mouth straight off the tree. While a pie made with sweet cherry varieties (such as Bing or Rainier) can be cloying, a pie made with Montmorency or North Star cherries has the perfect balance of sweet and sour.
It’s been my experience that people who say they don’t like cherry pie have never tasted a sour cherry pie. Surprisingly few folks know that sour cherries exist, partly because it’s hard to find sour cherries (Prunus cerasus) in many parts of the country. Sour cherries, also called tart cherries, are thought to have originated in the region between the Caspian and Black seas. Cherry trees still grow wild in that area, which includes part of Russia, Georgia, Armenia and Azerbaijan. The Greeks were cultivating sour cherries by 300 B.C. and the popularity of these tart cherries spread quickly to Italy and throughout Europe.
French colonists brought sour cherries to North America and by the mid-1600s cherries were plentiful in Virginia, my home state. Today most sour cherries commercially grown in the U.S. are produced along the Great Lakes in western Michigan, as well as in parts of Wisconsin, New York and Pennsylvania.
My love of cherry pies came early courtesy of my mother. She truly is famous for her pie baking skills — at least in her Virginia town where the local paper has profiled her and her homemade pies. She has forged some deep relationships with local sour cherry growers, who reserve gallons of cherries for her each summer. Even in a bad winter – like this last one, which killed off much of the cherry crop — my mother somehow leaves a supposedly “sold out” orchard with brimming boxes of cherries unavailable to the typical customer.
The harvest season for sour cherries is short — just a few weeks at the end of June and early July. This delicate fruit doesn’t ship or store well, so the first step in making pies for the rest of the year is preserving the fruit. Sour cherries may be canned in the traditional way, but it’s even easier to freeze them.
Although my mother often gets gallons of cherries at once, she freezes them in small batches. Seeding cherries is no small effort and it’s nice to spread the work out over a longer period of time. But the biggest advantage to this method is that you can freeze the precise amount of seeded and sugared cherries you need to make one pie. My mom actually prefers making pies from frozen cherries because it’s easier to control the amount of juice that goes into the pie filling if you separate the liquid from the cherries during the thawing process.
How to preserve sour cherries
To freeze, wash and seed four cups of cherries and place them into a large bowl. Sprinkle cherries with ½ cup of sugar, stir to combine, and let rest for 30 minutes. Freeze sugared cherries in 1.5-pint freezer containers or quart-sized freezer bags. Be sure to label your containers with contents and dates. Frozen cherries can be stored for up to one year. When taking frozen cherries out to thaw, put them in a colander with a bowl underneath to collect the juice.
If dealing with fresh sour cherries seems like too much work or sourcing them is an impossibility, you can often find jarred or canned sour cherries at Trader Joe’s or Middle Eastern markets. These canned sour cherries are usually Montmorency cherries and they’ll work fine. Just be sure that you’re not buying cherry pie filling, which is usually more sugary goop than cherries.
The hardest part of making a sour cherry pie is finding the cherries, but making cherry pie does require a certain amount of practice. The following recipe comes straight from my mother. I cannot guarantee that it will make you the focus of local newspaper profiles or will make your kitchen a place where neighbors drop in simply on the off-chance they can get some pie. But it will make you a convert to sour cherries.
Mom's Sour Cherry Pie
Prep Time: 2 hours
Cook Time: 1 hour
Total Time: 3 hours
Yield: 1 (9-inch) cherry pie, plus an extra round of pie dough
Recipe courtesy Linda Lutz.
2 quarts sour cherries (fresh or frozen)
1 cup and 1 teaspoon granulated sugar
3 cups plus an additional 4 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon plus a pinch of salt
1 cup vegetable shortening
1 egg, beaten
⅓ cup plus 1 tablespoon cold water
1 tablespoon white vinegar
¼ teaspoon almond extract
1½ tablespoons butter
Wash and seed cherries.
Place about 4 cups fresh sour cherries into a medium bowl and add ½ cup of the sugar.
Let sit for at least an hour to allow cherries to draw juice, stirring occasionally.
To make pie dough, place 3 cups of the flour and 1 teaspoon salt into a large bowl.
Measure 1 cup vegetable shortening and add in small pieces to flour mixture. Using the tips of your fingers, pinch the shortening into the flour mixture until the flour-covered fat balls are the size of slightly flattened peas.
Beat one egg in a small bowl. Add water and vinegar to beaten egg and stir to combine.
Slowly pour liquid into flour mixture, stirring gently with two fingers until all liquid is added. Have a light touch with dough to keep it flaky. Stir no more than is necessary to work dough into a ball.
Divide dough into three parts and shape into flat rounds. Wrap dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate while you making pie filling.
Drain cherries into a colander, reserving juice.
In a saucepan, combine ½ cup sugar, 4 tablespoons of flour and a pinch of salt. Slowly stir in reserved juice.
Cook mixture until it begins to thicken, then add cherries, almond extract, and 1½ tablespoons of butter. Cook over medium heat for 5 minutes.
Remove cherry filling from the heat and let cool while preparing pie dough.
Take two rounds of pie dough out of refrigerator and unwrap them.
Working with one round at a time, roll pie dough out on flour covered pastry cloth or countertop.
When the round of dough is about half its needed size, use fingers to pinch any cracked edges back together. Continue rolling dough until it’s large enough to cover your pie pan. Dough should be no more than ¼ inch thick, but a generous 1/8-inch thick is even better.
Place first round of dough into bottom of pie pan and roll out the top crust using the same method.
Pour cherry filling into pastry lined 9-inch pie pan. (My mother prefers a glass pie dish so she can see how the bottom of her crust is browning.) If filling appears too thick at this point, add a bit of water before pouring filling into pie crust.
Cover with top crust and cut approximate10 half-inch long slits in the top crust.
Sprinkle the top of the pie with 1 teaspoon of granulated sugar.
Cover the outer edges of the pie crust with aluminum foil or a metal pie edge protector to keep the edges of the crust from burning.
Bake at 425 F for 35 to 45 minutes or until golden brown. If top crust seems to be browning too quickly, lay a piece of aluminum foil over the top of the crust for the last 10 minutes. Let pie cool before serving.
You can use up to 1½ cups sugar, but we like cherries pies tart.
Extra round of pie dough can be frozen for future use. Keep dough round in plastic wrap and place in a freezer-safe plastic bag. Pie dough will keep in the freezer for several months.
Main photo: Mom’s Sour Cherry Pie is always a crowd-pleaser. Credit: Susan Lutz
I’m browsing the superfood aisle at Whole Paycheck, wondering if the companies that sell these products just discovered they’re super or they’re food. They discovered they’re superprofitable — that’s for sure. High in antioxidants or other powerful nutrients, their chia and hemp seeds, cacao nibs, maca powder and goji berries are going for $18 to $25 a pound. And South American acai, camu and maquisuperfruit powders sell for a whopping $80 to $138 a pound! Apparently there’s nothing dense about the marketers of nutrient-dense foods. But since there’s no USDA certification for superfoods, who’s to say my maca’s not mediocre?
I don’t see any scientists using the term “superfoods,” and critics say there are plenty of whole foods that are really and truly nutritious. Still, there must be some authority deeming these foods so super. I’m picturing this superfood czar in a corner office of the jungle surrounded by mountains of seeds, berries, roots, nuts and nibs with a big, red rubber stamp that says, “SUPER!”
Hey, I’m as good a judge of super as the next foodist. Maybe I could cash in on this new cash crop! I’m thinking the best way to do it is to discover my own superfood. First I’ll pick a country — one that’s outside the superfood spotlight yet has vast jungle offerings. There are already Brazilian and Amazon superfoods; Incan, Andean and Aztec superfoods; Turkish, Persian, Kashmir and Chinese superfoods; Mediterranean and African ones, too.
Hmm … Bhutan might work. It’s got amazing biodiversity with the Himalayan mountains, rainforests and jungles and is still largely untouched by the West. They must have something I could forage to make my fortune. I can already see a jungle-to-table logo on the packaging. And since the Bhutanese are Buddhists who coined the term, “Gross National Happiness,” they should be pretty chill over my intention. But berries and seeds are so last year. Wouldn’t it be neat if I could find a berry and seed superfood in one? A berryseed would be the super-est food ever!
The Koch sister of sustainability
Yep, I’ll swoop into Bhutan, find all the berryseeds, form a corporation, get the local women to harvest them, create a women’s cooperative, and then donate 10% back to them and claim my company is all for their benefit. Ooh, I like it. I just need to get Fair Trade, USDA Organic and Rainforest Alliance certifications, and I’ll be on my way.
Adair Seldon in Cascais, Portugal. Credit: Niles Seldon
It shouldn’t be too hard. I’m sure there are lobbyists swarming that corner jungle office. I can hardly wait to hobnob with the palm oil-maker mucky-mucks at trade shows in Indonesia. I’ll be the Koch sister of sustainability. I’d hate to give up this lucrative career as a food blogger and all, but the world is awaiting my product for health, healing and happiness — all while benefitting an underserved community — me!
I’m thinking I’ll sell more product if I can pinpoint exactly what it’s so super for. Maybe I’ll search for a berryseed that curtails lethargy in women. What a lofty, pro-planet goal! When my superfood cures this debilitating symptom, women will have enough energy to make the same wages as men. Yessss! After the Bhutanese women spend a few back-breaking seasons picking and harvesting my berryseeds, lethargy in women and income inequality will be totally eradicated! First I’ll empower the Bhutanese women — then I’ll empower every woman on the planet! Watch out, world! Women are coming to save humanity from Greedy Guy Syndrome!
Well, I better get packing. Let’s see … gardening gloves, mini shovel, BPA-free container for my berryseeds and, oh yeah, my Dzongkha Bhutanese dictionary. I wouldn’t want to say anything culturally insensitive when I demand access to my berryseeds. I want the Bhutanese people to know I understand and respect them — that we’re all equals on this sacred planet. Well, except for women. But with my berryseed twofer, we’ll be one soon enough.
Saving womankind feels great! I don’t know why I waited so long! Really, you should try it! But pick another country for your superfood. Bhutan’s mine.
Main photo: Why stop at superfoods like blueberries when you can invent new ones? Credit: Nolan Hester
As a longtime pescetarian and proponent of healthy eating, I’m delighted when people mention adding seafood to their diet. My heart sinks, though, when I hear that these additions consist of imported shrimp and tuna or farmed Atlantic salmon.
Although I appreciate any attempt to eat more wholesomely, I wish Americans would make wiser, more environmentally sound choices when it comes to shellfish and fish.
According to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, 91% of our favorite seafood was shipped in from overseas in 2011. Meanwhile, our own waters teem with nutritious yet highly invasive species such as Asian carp, northern snakehead and lionfish. In an age of increasing concerns about the environment and sustainability, our dependence on imported and ecologically unsound seafood makes no sense. It’s time for us to stop making unviable choices and start eating America’s glut of destructive, nonnative fish.
Eating invasive fish aids sustainability
Think that the need for invasivores – people who eat invasive species — might be overhyped? Consider Asian carp, specifically bighead, silver, black, and grass carp. They were introduced in the late 1960s to control parasites, algae and weeds in Southeastern U.S. aquaculture.
Unfortunately, these aggressive fish didn’t stay down on the farm. After escaping and crowding out or killing off native aquatic life, Asian carp now rule over large stretches of the Mississippi, Missouri and Illinois rivers. Today, they threaten to take over the Great Lakes and other water systems.
This story is not unique. Dumped out of exotic aquariums, the flamboyant and venomous Indo-Pacific lionfish has infiltrated the coastal waters of Florida, spreading as far north as North Carolina and as far south as the Caribbean. Left unchecked, the lionfish has destroyed entire reef populations and drastically reduced biodiversity.
Native to Africa and Asia, northern snakeheads have likewise decimated wildlife in the Potomac, sections of the East and West coasts, Florida and Hawaii. Able to live several days out of the water, they wriggle over land to ravage nearby ponds, reservoirs and lakes. As a result, snakeheads are particularly troublesome.
Although America spends millions of tax dollars attempting to contain or eliminate these and other invasive fish, they remain prized foods in their native lands. In China and Southeast Asia, cooks grill, fry, poach, braise, steam or stew snakehead.
Zester Daily contributor Kathy Hunt preparing for a cooking class. Credit: Sean Dippold
In Cambodia, this freshwater fish serves as an essential source of protein and stars in the traditional curry dish amok trey. Firm, white-fleshed and moderate in flavor, it makes a fitting substitute for overfished darlings such as monkfish and snapper.
Low in mercury and PCBs (polychlorinated biphenyl), Asian carp also abounds with culinary possibilities. Along with smoking, steaming, grilling and frying, it performs well in soups, curries and stews. Mild and white-fleshed, it’s a good stand-in for the depleted Atlantic cod and Icelandic pollock.
Lionfish, too, is a pleasant-tasting replacement for environmentally unsafe fish. In July 2010, the Washington Post prophesized that lionfish could be “the new sustainable ‘it’ seafood.”
Pan-seared lionfish with rice and beans. Credit: Kathy Hunt
Mild in flavor and white-fleshed, it offers a versatile alternative to popular but eco-unfriendly choices such as grouper and orange roughy. It responds well to most cooking techniques and pairs well with a number of ingredients.
Although lionfish does possess venomous dorsal spines, its meat is safe to eat. I say this from experience. This past winter in the Florida Keys, I had several lovely, light lunches of speared, filleted and then pan-seared lionfish topped with a spritz of lime juice or dollop of mango chutney. Obviously, I lived to write about it.
Our aquatic enemies may be tasty and a snap to cook, but not everyone will want to devour a fish called “snakehead” or “bighead carp.” This is where smart marketing comes into play. Most people would avoid the unattractively named Patagonian toothfish. However, tucking into an exotic Chilean sea bass has proved to be A-OK with diners. Same fish, different designation. Provide snakehead and Asia carp with fancy or friendlier names, and watch how opinions change.
Lionfish. Credit: Frank Wilmer
Exposure will likewise aid in gaining converts. Invasive species-themed dinners have already taken place in Chicago, Miami, Dallas and Baltimore. Along with raising public awareness of these marauding creatures, the events aim to tantalize the public’s palate. Chefs create tempting specialties such as snakehead po’ boys, European green crab stew, lionfish sashimi and Asian carp croquettes. Bite into a moist and flavorful snakehead taco, and you’ll never fill your tortillas with shrimp or tuna again.
With a bit of consumer education, exposure and smart marketing, we could control — if not eliminate — America’s invasive seafood species problem. In the process, we would reduce our dependence on unsustainable, imported seafood. It’s time for us to take note of the invasive species’ culinary appeal and start catching and consuming our nemeses.
Main photo: Lionfish. Credit: iStockphoto / kiankhoon