What Is This?

Have a shifty at this latest and most extraordinarily delicious discovery. I will send one ounce of whatever it is for the most interesting guess, which may or may not be the closest.

The Beet that Ate Cincinnati (Borsht, באָרשטש,, Barszcz)

That is one really big beet I got this week. That is a smallish pumpkin, I will admit, but it is not one of those tiny little mini pumpkins. Big Red weighed almost two and a half pounds before peeling and trimming. Stoneledge farm also delivered carrots and cabbage, so it seems like a perfect time to make the first hot borsht of the season, especially now that I am inspired by this beautiful post by Pille at Nami Nami. I will double the recipe (because, you see, I have a very big beet).
For now let me note that this is a regular garden-variety hybrid beet that happens to have some pale spots, and not a chioggia beet. I do not especially care for chioggia beets (I think there may be only one other vegetable that doesn't excite me. Can you guess which?); they are tooth-achingly sweet to me, but why should that be a problem when I love desserts that are unbearably sweet for many other people?

Transparent Things

Viana La Place doesn’t like them, but I am close to the conclusion that everything that gets refrigerated needs to be in a transparent bag or container. If you are going to refrigerate an item in an opaque vessel, you might as well just skip the middleman and throw it on the compost heap right now, because you know that’s where it’s going.

קאָקאָשעס

אינעם נײַעם נומער פֿאָרװערטס שרײַבט שׂרה־רחל שעכטער װעגן װי מיקראָכװאַלניק־קאָקאָשעס קאָנען ענק איבערפּעקלען אױף יענער־װעלט, אױב עץ האָט נאָך געװאָלט הערן װײַטער אַ טעם פֿאַרװאָס נישט צו „קאָכן“ מיט די אָ שרעקלעכע כּלי־מװת.

קאָקאָשעס קאָן מען בעסער, גרינגער, און גיכער מאַכן אין אַ טאָפּ. עץ װײסט שױן װאָס הײסט אַ טאָפּ? אַ טאָפּ זעט אױס אַזױ. פֿראַגעס?

קאָקאָשעס

גיסט'ץ אָן אַ ביסל בױמל אין טאָפּ. גיט'ץ צו גענוג קאָקאָשעס זײ זאָלן באַדעקן דעם פֿלאַך, אָבער נישט מער.

דעקט'ץ צו דעם טאָפּ, און שטעלט אים איבערן פֿלאַם. עץ װעט באַלד הערן מוזיק פֿון די טאַנצנדיקע קאָקאָשעס. גיט'ץ אַ מאָל אַ שאָקל דעם טאָפּ. נאָך אַ צװײ־דרײַ מינוט, װען עץ הערט מער נישט קײן קלאַנגען, זענען זײ גרײט. עץ מעגט צוגעבן פּוטער און זאַלץ אױף װיפֿל עץ װילט.

איך האָב זיך הײַנט דערמאָנט אין „פֿאַרמער בױ(Farmer Boy)” אין װעלכן אונדזער העלד טראַכט װעגן קאָקאָשעס׃

Almanzo and sat on the footstool by the stove, an apple in his hand, a bowl of popcorn by his side, and his mug of cider on the hearth by his feet. He bit the juicy apple, then he ate some popcorn, then he took a drink of cider. He thought about popcorn.

Popcorn is American. Nobody but the Indians ever had popcorn, till after the Pilgrim fathers came to America. On the first Thanksgiving Day, the Indians were invited to dinner, and they came, and they poured out on the table a big bagful of popcorn. The Pilgrim Fathers didn't know what it was. The Pilgrim Mothers didn’t know, either. The Indians had popped it, but it probably wasn't very good. Probably they didn't butter it or salt it, and it would be cold and tough after they had carried it around in a bag of skins.

Almanzo looked at every kernel before he ate it. They were all different shapes. He had eaten thousands of handfuls of popcorn, and never found two kernels alike. Then he thought that if he had some milk, he would have popcorn and milk.

You can fill a glass full to the brim with milk, and fill another glass of the same size brim full of popcorn, and then you can put all the popcorn kernel by kernel into the milk, and the milk will not run over. You cannot do this with bread. Popcorn and milk are the only two things that will go into the same place.

From Farmer Boy by Laura Ingalls Wilder

קאָקאָשעס מיט מילך

פֿילט אָן אײן שיסל מיט קאָקאָשעס און אַ צװײטן מיט מילך. שיט אַרײַן די קאָקאָשעס, אײנע מיט אַ מאָל, אין מילך אַרײַן.

גײ װײס! עס אַרבעט!

Wow, it works! The popcorn dissolves in milk almost like Styrofoam in acetone. It makes a delicious bowl of cold cereal.

New Year Honey Watch I: Coffee Flower Honey

This heady and fragrant honey was a gift from Marion the Librarian and Mine-Freyde. Coffee flower honey—three of my favorite words right there. This honey is dark and chocolaty, very floral, and yes, you can detect just a wonderful waft of coffee.

Alice!

Look who dropped by Union Square last Friday!
I do hope you enjoyed your visit to New York, Alice, and were not too startled by the enthusiastic greetings of wild-eyed bloggers.
Whatever.

Fresh Edamame

One of the enduringly cool things about belonging to a CSA collective is that I frequently find myself in possession of produce I would not otherwise have had the nerve to pick out on my own (and I flatter myself that I have a fair share of courage when it comes to picking out produce). One such case is edamame on the vine. I mean just look at these guys! They are fuzzy, thorny, bulky, and I would never have guessed that there are edamame in there.

Fresh edamame are delicious for nibbling at any time and not as hard to prepare as they look.

Fresh Edamame

Pull edamame pods off the stems. I do not know if there is any way to make use of the soy stems or leaves. Bring lavishly salted water to a boil and cook the pods for 12 minutes. Later in the season you will need to cook them a little longer. Test for doneness. Drain the edamame and sprinkle the pods with salt. Eat them by popping the edamame into your mouth allowing the pods to salt your lips lightly. Ah, lightly salted lips!

See this post for more pictures and edamame-related vocabulary in Yiddish.

See Kalyn’s roundup of Weekend Herb Blogging for more leafy goodness.