All I knew is that these fruit were beautiful in their battered French crate, perched on the edge of the market stall holder's table. If only I had recognized them as the much talked-about greengage (also known as Reine Claude plums or Edel-Pflaume). Next Thursday I will fill a paper bag and gorge on them all weekend long.
Meanwhile: Really, Mexican food? (excited)
These berries are just too beautiful to be true. Will you share a favorite recipe with me?
I eyed the pheasant eggs too but finally settled for the speckled neatness of these dozen quail eggs.
Who can resist a jaunty head or two of fresh garlic? You can use them in place of normal garlic, of course, or make some fresh garlic soufflés, as EB and I did recently (or, to be fair, as EB did; I was mostly busy comforting my small, cross daughter). Lazy cooks take note: We didn't bake them twice and the soufflés were still delicious.
Does everyone know about this raw milk, now available in eo and, presumably, other organic shops too?
Five years ago, quince was just a lovely word, and I couldn't have picked out a knobbly specimen in a line-up. But then How to Eat lived for a long time on my bedside table, and more recently I ogled Melissa's gems and began daydreaming about quince champagne cocktails. And so on a recent morning, my heart beat faster on spotting a colleague's free crate of organic quince advertised on the company intranet, and I leapt to accept. After reading about quince bought for $1 or $1.99 per fruit, I felt like a king cramming two kilograms into my backpack before heading home.
The house is fragrant (pungent, David would say) with the mysterious pleasing pineapple/nutmeg scent. Over the last couple of nights I've made a robust batch of quince paste, and plan to do a quince variation on the Verlet tart this weekend.
But this will make just a dent in my supply, and while quinces are hardy, I think it's only sensible to pass on the largesse and offer some fruit to a good home. So, dear readers, please email me at the link to the left or leave a comment, and we'll work out the details of when and where. I'm happy to advise quince novices, and will even throw in a piece of my membrillo for good measure...
I still smile in embarrassment when I recall asking a German waiter what Mangold was. Es ist halt Mangold he replied, flummoxed, and I decided the vegetable strudel sounded better anyway and ordered that instead. Eventually I spotted Mangold at the BioCompany and concluded it was akin to bok choy, and only recently did I bother to look up the word on Leo, where I learned it translates to chard.
Never mind: All this nattering is just to say that if you find a few of these bunches in the gorgeous ruby red variant, with leaves mostly intact and the stems radiant, then snap them up: the earthy beet-like sweetness is not to be beat.
With each bunch, chop off the knotted root end to free the stalks, then draw your knife roughly between where the stalks end and the leaves begin. Lay the leaves aside, then chop the stalks into 1/2 inch chunks and transfer to a bowl. Wash thoroughly. Cut the leaves into 1/2 inch strips, and wash as well. Mince two fat garlic cloves.
In a wide frying pan, heat a tablespoon of olive oil on medium heat 'til fragrant. Add the chopped stalks and cook for five minutes or so, stirring once. Salt sparingly. Add the minced garlic, and continue cooking with an occasional stir until the stalks are still crisp but the fibrousness has been softened by the heat (about 15 minutes total). Add the leaves and stir thoroughly from the bottom, then cook for 3-5 minutes, until the leaves are wilted and soft. Add another dash of salt, anoint with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice, then transfer to bowls or plates. Top, if desired, with a dusting of parmesan.
Oh, I searched, and for a long time the Vietnamese shop near Gaudystraße was my reliable source, but when they scaled back their produce selection I was out in the cold again, left to the vagaries of the Kollwitzplatz market, trolling through the half-dozen stands seeking the butternut squash I craved.
Then last Saturday, desperate to duplicate my mom's famous bhaji for Alistair and Sabine, I cycled to Helmholtzplatz more or less on a whim. Alongside the fetching little hokkaido squash at Gerd Carlsson's stand were four robust butternut squash, reasonably priced at €1.90 per kilogram; Carlsson reassured me that he has the squash in stock every week. So there you go!
After the crush of Kollwitzplatz, the Helmholtzplatz market is comfortingly small. You'll find Carlsson's stand at the northeast end beside the fishmonger's (opposite a stand that also has butternut squash, but at slightly higher prices). The Helmholtzplatz market is open Saturdays from 9 to 4 or 5.
(And because this site is already threatening to become Grapes Reified, let me also recommend - surely for a few weeks only! - the French muscat grapes also on sale at his stand.)
Update: Mid-October now, and I spotted two full crates of butternut squash in the Prenzlauer Berg BioCompany. Fingers crossed they keep stocking it, though I'll buy from Mr Carlsson as long as his supply holds out.
I can only echo Hungry in Berlin's enthusiastic words on Federweißer, which was just coming into the shops during my recent visit to the Moselle Valley. Those in Germany briefly should be especially vigilant about seeking out this speciality: Federweißer's cloudy golden depths capture the essence of late summer, and it is rare to drink something so changing; I like catching it just before it tips into tartness -- more or less straightaway after buying a bottle -- when the muscat note is still dominant. To buy, my favourites so far have been the bottles sold at the BioCompany and those stocked by my beloved neighbourhood wine shop Nix Wie Wein. (While a rich onion tart is the traditional pairing, I've grown fond of Federweißer alongside cheddar.) And do rush - I meant to write about Federweißer when I began Berlin Reified last fall, but by late October it had already disappeared...
Alas, the weather's turned wintry again, and a creamy porcini-studded brie on little crackers is just the snack to nibble at while putting together a plum tart. I heartily recommend a wedge from Clemens Santüns' stand at the Helmholtzplatz market.
