Girls in Trees

Cherry Plum Picking

“Of all the wonders of nature, a tree in summer is perhaps the most remarkable; with the possible exception of a moose singing "Embraceable You" in spats.”

- Woody Allen, Director, Actor and Writer

            If you were a girl, you probably remember being pelted with berries at some time in your elementary school existence. Most were pretty harmless – unless you got the squishy kind. The kind that goes splat on your back, leaves a stain on your my Little Pony t-Shirt and leaves you crying on the way home (no bad memories here…). More than likely that berry was probably Prunus cerasifera, or cherry plums.

            While other stone fruits (drupe is the technical botanical name), such as peaches, nectarines and apricots[1], get all the attention during July and August, cherry plums never go to the ball. And that is a pity, because once you realize they are there, your pantry will be full of amazing plum jam, plum wine and even, homemade plum sauce.

            But where are they? That’s the amazing thing. They are really quite common. In Northern Europe they are commonly used as hedgerow plants, mainly because they are quite easy to grow and need very little maintenance. They are also popular plants for landscapers as they tolerate urban environments quite readily, especially poor or clay packed soil. Furthermore, they are often the first plants to flower (in February or March), spreading some flower power during the dreary days of late winter/early spring.

Cherry Plum Leaves

            Their fruit and their leaf shape readily identify the plants. First, the fruit look like cherries in color and size (their scientific name, Prunus cerasifera, means “plum that bears cherries”), but if you take a bite of them, you will realize quickly that it does not have either the strong almondy flavor/scent of cherries (this comes from the strong presence of benzaldehyde). Plums, on the other hand, have a more lactones, lending themselves to the particularly “peachy” smell. Second, their tree (see picture) has small razor-edged leaves and their fruit is hanging on stems, much like cherries. Third, the tree itself is rather bushy – more like a shrub or small tree – with small branches. Some can grow up to 15 meters (75 feet) high, but those are not the norm.

            But the real question is, how do they taste? SOUR. Well, I have to admit, unlike apples or pears, you cannot eat them out of hand. But they make for great jam and fantastic pastries. You can put them in cake or pie, or make it into chutney to go with pork. And if you are a boozehound, you can also make it into slivovitz, the famous Balkan plum brandy (warning: the stuff is STRONG). Whatever you do – don’t let them go to waste. Every fruit deserves to go the royal ball.

Plum Cherry Crumble

Cherry Plum Crumble

            The nice thing about plums is their high pectin content. This means you don’t have to add any thickener, such as cornstarch, to the fruit – it will thicken on its own. Also, you don’t need to pick completely ripe fruit. It won’t affect the flavor and in fact, overripe cherry plums are a pain to de-stone – they are very mushy and mealy. And please note, the stones (pits) contain hydrogen cyanide – yes, as in will-kill-you cyanide. (This is also the chemical that gives bitter almonds, used in marzipan and amaretti, their characteristic flavor). The cyanide is contained also in the leaves, but trust me, you won’t be tempted to eat either the pit or the leaves; they are distinctly bitter. And not to worry hypochondriacs. The amounts of cyanide in both the pits and leaves are so miniscule that you won’t be going to the hospital – unless have a panic attack.  By the way, if you go tree climbing for these yummies, wear long pants and a tight fitting shirt to avoid being scratched by all the twigs and have some Advil on hand. I’m still sore from hours of climbing.

1 1/4 c. flour

3/4 c. oats (old-fashioned or steel cut – NOT instant)

1 1/3 c. of brown sugar, packed

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 tsp. ground ginger

pinch of nutmeg

pinch of salt

1/2 c. butter (1 stick) cut into small pieces and chilled

2 pds. cherry plums, halved and pitted

1 tbs. liquor such as amaretto, eau de vie, or kirsch (optional)

crème fraiche or ice cream for serving

1.     Pre-heat oven to 350 F. Mix flour, oats, 1/2 cup of brown sugar, cinnamon, ginger, nutmeg and salt in a medium bowl. Take the butter and rub butter into the flour mixture until it has a meal-like consistency. (If not using immediately, set aside in the fridge)

2.     In another bowl, take 1 cup of brown sugar, plums, and liquor (if using) and mix thoroughly. Taste and add more sugar if necessary (you may need to, if your plums are particularly sour). Place plums into a 9-inch deep dish pie or tart pan, sprinkle crumb topping on top and bake until the fruit bubbles and topping is browned, about an hour.

3.     Cool slightly and serve warm or room temperature with ice cream of crème fraiche.

---

[1] All stone fruits, including peaches, cherries, nectarines, plums, etc. are directly related to the Prunus genus (which are all part of the Rosaceae or rose family). Almonds also belong to this group of fruits as well (Almonds are the seed of the Prunus amygdalus plant). All fruits belonging to genus Prunus are not self-pollinating, thus they must have a steady pollinator –usually bees – to pollinate them. This is why the development of Colony Collapse Disorder (CCD) in bees is so devastating for California’s fruit production.

Me Talk Pretty One Day

When I first came to Denmark, I thought it was going to be something out of the Safety Dance music video: A bunch of medieval sprites singing 80’s New Wave hits in the Midsummer Night. It was fine until I heard Danish. Before I met my husband, I never heard Danish before. I assumed it sounded like the Swedish Chef on the Muppet Show. “Aweenda shmure da froog's legs. Börk Börk Börk!" How hard could it be to talk like the Swedish Chef?

            Plenty, as I found out through months of language classes. While the grammar was fairly simple (it’s a lot like English), and the vocabulary was much like German, the pronunciation was like nothing I had ever heard before. I thought I was a language-idiot, until a linguist told me pronouncing Danish was notoriously difficult. For several months, various situations occurred that made me look like a raving lunatic with animal sounds. There was the trip to the Halal butcher in which I made bleating sounds, while hopping on one leg and holding up three fingers. The milk “situation” had me trying to do charades for low-fat organic milk. And the worst was the bakery. I was so frustrated trying to get my loaf of dark rye bread (rugbrød) that I had a crying fit sputtering the words “ruuuggggg-brrrrroooot” for 20 minutes around the block.

             I received all sorts of advice on how to improve my Danish pronunciation, such as:

            “Well, uh, imagine walruses talking. It kinda sounds like that.”

            “Take a giant piece of cotton, stuff into your mouth, then talk.”

            “Stick your tongue out. That helps.”

            But the best was when Danes, either as a cruel joke or linguistics through fire, tried to have me pronounce this phrase: Rødgrød med fløde.

            It’s the 8^th circle of hell. It had the soft “d”, the throaty “r” and seemingly endless glottal stops. After years of trying to deal with this shibboleth, I basically decided that I was going to be resigned to mispronouncing Danish. At a certain point I realized if I stuck with food I was only able to pronounce I would be an anemic, scurvy ridden mess.

            But every summer fills me with enunciative dread. Why? Because rødgrød med fløde is the unofficial summer dessert of Denmark. And I still can’t pronounce it correctly.

            But does it matter? I live in a country that has some of the most progressive tax systems in the world. In terms of environmental policies, Denmark is hailed as a model for sustainable living. I can take public transportation or bike anywhere. And cars are considered unnecessary.

            If you ask me, rødgrød med fløde is a small price to pay for better quality of life. I could only wish that it could so easy for the rest of the world.

GOLDMINE! Wild Forest Strawberries

Rødgrød med Fløde

            Rødgrød med fløde is a summer berry compote with cream. Although it’s impossible to pronounce, it’s rather easy to make, especially now that it is berry season. And if you have freshly foraged berries, all the better. And it really doesn’t matter which fruits you have – any combination will be delicious. Just remember to have ripe berries and be sure to chill it thoroughly; otherwise the compote will be too loose. And try to avoid the ultra-pasteurized cream or cream with stabilizers in it. Guar gum does not go well with fruit. And if you have any left over, you can use it in yogurt, as a topping for pancakes, or make some biscuits for a quick shortcake.

Velbekommen!

Rødgrød med fløde

3 pds. various soft fruit (red or black currants, raspberries, gooseberries, strawberries, blackberries, cherries, rhubarb, blueberries, etc.)

1/2 c. sugar

1/2 c. water

3 tbs. of cornstarch

6 tbs. cold water

1 c. heavy cream

1 tbs. vanilla sugar

1.     If using rhubarb, chop rhubarb into 1-inch pieces.  Place fruit, sugar and water in a non-reactive saucepan and bring to a simmer.

2.     In a small bowl, combine cornstarch and cold water into a slurry. When the fruit has started to break down, add cornstarch mixture and stir until the fruit mixture has started to thicken to the consistency of a heavy syrup.

3.     Take fruit mixture off heat, cover, and chill for at least 2 hours, until cold.

When ready to serve, combine vanilla sugar with cream. (You can also whip your cream to soft peaks if you like). Place fruit mixture into individual serving bowls and top with cream.

Not Just for Paris Hilton and the Brits

“Bread feeds the body, indeed, but flowers feed also the soul.”

 The Koran

In continuation with our “You Can Eat That” theme, today’s foraging goodie is the elderflower (in bloom NOW). For those not living in Europe, going to some trendoid cocktail bar, or having a gay best friend (I am guilty of all three), elderflower is probably ringing a “Huh?” Elderflowers are flowers of the elder tree/shrub (genus Sambucus) that are the primary ingredient in St. Germain liqueur, cordial and presse.  While elderberries, the fruit of the elder tree has numerous uses in jam, pies, juice, etc., elderflower seems to be stuck playing the drink role in every play. When does it get a chance to shine on it’s own?

Elderflower Cluster

            First though, a little background. Like other urban foraging plants in the “You Can Eat That” theme, elder trees are pretty common across temperate regions on earth. Species vary from region to region, but most common to North America and Europe is the species Sambucus nigra (literally translated as black sambucus[1]). They flower in large clusters of cream and white flowers (see picture), which then produce blue/black or dark red berries (and when they come around, there will definitely be a recipe…I’m thinking PIE). Leaves stem from a single axis (also called “pinnate” for you plant nerds) usually in clusters of 5 to 9 leaves to a stem.

            Like many other edible plants, elderflower and its berries have been used for medicinal purposes, such as toothaches and flu. Some studies have suggested that elderberry extract could be a treatment for H1N1 flu virus (otherwise known has “bird flu”).[2] But lest you start hunting down every single elder tree for the elixir of life (I always thought it was Nyquil), every single part of the plant, except for the flowers and ripe berries are POISONIOUS. Just in case the poison part of poisonous didn’t get you, how about the word cyanide? Most of the plant, that is leaves, branches, twigs, seeds and roots, contain cyanide. In other words, don’t eat anything else beyond the flowers and the ripe berries (this especially is important for people with young children as they accumulate toxins much faster and in fatal doses than does of adults).

            But let’s get back to those lovely elderflowers. After a very unscientific survey of Google results, I realized that most of the recipes for elderflower were for beverages. But I did find out that the French and the Germans use elderflower syrup for pancakes or crepes. My line of thought is as follows:  pancake-dough-pastry-donut-fried deliciousness.  Why not tempura-batter the flowers and serve them up with cinnamon sugar for dessert?

            Made them and ate them. And now I am wishing that I made more before the last thunderstorm wiped out most of the flowers out of my neighborhood. Don’t make that mistake. As for the Koran- I think it needs to add an addendum: Flowers can feed both body and soul.

Elderflower Fritters

            As I have mentioned before, please follow the general rules for foraging (click here). But for elderflowers, there are some additional pointers. First, inspect the flowers for critters before you pick. Second, pick flowers that have just bloomed. They have the most flavor, fragrance and yummy pollen. And third, carry very gently. They are fragile and use immediately. They don’t keep.

            Once you get them home, clean them carefully in a bowl of cold water to get rid of any “friends” that may have come along for the ride. Dry them thoroughly on paper towels; otherwise, they will not pick up the batter properly.

            As for the tempura[3], the recipe is simple but technique is hard to perfect. With regards to the batter, use ice water. This is crucial in getting a crispy crust (this is the same reason why you need it for pie dough). If you have a cooking thermometer, by all means use it. Deep-frying is all about stabilizing the temperature of your oil so your batter does not become an oily sponge. Perfect frying temperature is 375ºF.[4] Lastly, do not overcrowd your pan. As soon as the batter hits the oil, the temperature drops dramatically. The more crowded your pan is, the more time it takes for your oil to heat back up to optimal frying temperature, and the more likely you will get undercooked, soggy, grease laden chunks of tastelessness. One more thing – serve immediately. Nobody likes cold tempura.

20 elderflower heads

2 qt. of neutral oil (any vegetable oil, except for olive oil, will do)

1/4 c. flour

1/4 c. cornstarch

1/3 c. ice water

1 egg yolk

pinch of salt

1/4 tsp. sugar

1 tsp. shortening

1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/4 c. powdered sugar mixed with 1 tsp of cinnamon for dusting

1.     Heat oil in a deep fryer, or Dutch oven or wok to 375ºF.

2.     In a medium bowl, mix flour, cornstarch, ice water, egg yolk, salt, sugar, shortening, and baking powder. Do not overmix; otherwise you will get a tough batter.

3.     Dip flowers in batter, one at a time, and carefully place into the oil. Fry as many as the pan can hold without crowding the pan, until golden brown, about 45 seconds to a minute. (You will have to do this in batches) When done, remove with a slotted spoon and drain on paper towels.

4.     Dust powdered sugar mixture on top. Serve immediately.

---

[1] Finding the etymology of the genus Sambucus requires some serious sleuthing and knowledge of Sanskrit. Apparently the elder tree has its roots in Hindu mythology, particularly with stories associated with Ganesha.

[2] See ^ Roschek Jr., Bill; Fink, Ryan C.; McMichael, Matthew D.; Li, Dan; Alberte, Randall S. (2009). "Elderberry flavonoids bind to and prevent H1N1 infection in vitro". Phytochemistry 70 (10): 1255–61. doi:10.1016/j.phytochem.2009.06.003. PMID 19682714; and Barak, V; Halperin, T; Kalickman, I (2001). "The effect of Sambucol, a black elderberry-based, natural product, on the production of human cytokines: I. Inflammatory cytokines". European cytokine network 12 (2): 290–6. PMID 11399518.

[3] This batter can be used for anything else: vegetables, shrimp, etc.

[4] There are numerous methods that suggest how to get the perfect frying temperature: bread cube, wooden chopstick, popcorn, etc. I find all of them to be imprecise. Use a thermometer. Don’t have one? Get one. They’re relatively cheap. A candy thermometer works nicely as well (it withstands high temperatures needed for deep-frying and it will hang conveniently on the side of the pot so your hand won’t become a casualty).

Hay Fever Makes for Good Eats!

Image via Wikipedia

"Dandelion

Oh, hardy flower, disdained as weed,

Despised for head of feathery seed,

Your unsung virtues rate a ballad,

Choice roots for wine, crisp leaves for salad."
-Betty Gay, Cookbook Editor

            Dandelions. A bane to suburban lawns everywhere. Not only did they inflame my mother’s allergies, but they also were the nemesis of suburban lawns everywhere. Nothing said déclassé than a dandelion filled lawn. My mother went to extreme lengths to get rid of them. Pesticides, lawn mowers, Garden Claw™, indentured servitude (meaning us kids). But it was a Sisyphean battle. For every dandelion we got rid of, more would appear. (It didn’t help that we would pluck the seed heads and blow on them, making their proliferation a foregone conclusion.)

            But in the spirit of “you can eat that,” dandelions, genus Taraxacum, are one of the easiest plants for the urban forager. The ease is due to their biological hardiness, their taxonomic spread (nearly 34 macrospecies and 2000 microspecies) and their simplicity of reproduction (asexual). Their root systems run deep, surviving up to 7 years, even if no other visible parts of the plant remain. Furthermore, this root system will bring much-needed minerals and nitrogen to poor soils and shallow-rooting plants. These characteristics make them a pioneer species in disturbed soil or in areas of reduced tillage. Furthermore, insects use dandelions as nectar source (why so many bees are around dandelions) and the seeds are eaten by a myriad of bird species, which allows for their seeds to be dispersed over a large range of land.

            Most commonly used as a homeopathic remedy for liver and bile problems, as well as a general anti-inflammatory.[1] Many eat dandelion leaves in salad, such as the Greeks and the Italians. It is used in making “dandelion wine” (in parts of Appalachia in the Eastern United States) and the roots are roasted and ground as ersatz coffee. What many do not know is that both Korean and Chinese use dandelion greens often in cooking, using them as a side dish and as an ingredient in soups. They can also be used in a number of ways that arugula or other bitter greens can, for example, in pesto or as ravioli filling.

            When gathering dandelion greens for culinary purposes, there are a couple of things you should do. First, follow the general foraging rules on my previous post (http://www.edo-ergo-sum.com/2011/05/who-are-plants-in-your-neighborhood.html). Second, look for small newly sprouted leaves (Large leaves have a high potassium content, and are quite bitter). This means you should pick your leaves in early spring or fall when they start to emerge from the ground.  And third, you will need a lot of them – about a large bag or basket-full of leaves, as they wilt considerably while cooking.

            Next time you see a dandelion, don’t think useless weed – think food and maybe your attitude towards the lowly dandelion will change.

Sautéed Korean Dandelion Greens

Koreans use this dish as part of the small dishes called banchan that are traditionally served at every meal. You can use this as a side dish to accompany Asian dishes or with the addition of some protein (chicken, tofu or whatever you have on hand), it can make a tasty meal with some rice (I like short grain brown rice). Make sure you rinse your leaves thoroughly, as they tend to sandy. And if you have slightly older plants, you may want to blanch twice, as to remove as much bitterness as possible.

1 large bag/basket of dandelion greens (about 8-10 oz.)

1 tbs. neutral vegetable oil

1 clove garlic, finely minced

1-2 tbs. soy sauce (use Korean soy sauce, if possible)

1 tsp. sugar

1 tbs. toasted sesame oil

3 tbs. toasted sesame seeds (toast seeds in dry pan until brown)

1.     Boil a large pot of water. Blanch dandelion greens until wilted – about 10 seconds. Drain thoroughly and set aside.

2.     In a small bowl, combine soy sauce and sugar until the sugar dissolves. In a non-stick skillet, heat vegetable oil until shimmering over medium-high heat. Add garlic and sauté briefly until fragrant. Add greens and sauté for 1-minute, then add soy mixture to the pan and sauté a minute more.

3.     Take off heat, and toss with sesame oil and sesame seeds. Serve warm or cold with rice.

---

[1] I am not really the best advocate for homeopathy. While I think that many plants have pharmaceutical benefits, I need a double-blind test to verify their usefulness. Once a scientist, always a scientist.

Who Are the Plants in Your Neighborhood?

Black Locust Tree

"Earth was not built for six billion people all running around and being passionate about things. The world was built for about two million people foraging for roots and grubs."

 -Doug Coupland (Canadian novelist and writer)

            If I were ever stuck on an island and had to bring one person with me for survival, my dad would be it. To those who have been reading this blog on a regular basis, this may strike you as funny. My father is not the easiest man to get along with – add contrariness with a touch of OCD, and you get a recipe for crazy parenting. It’s a miracle we still talk to him.

            But my dad has a skill that trumps all of that: He is the king of foraging. When we were children, my dad would constantly mortify us by, in his words, “borrowing from nature,” or in other words, stealing various plants and fruits on public parks, neighbors’ houses, schoolyards – you name it. Unless someone had a gun parked over the plant, he would take pluck and pillage. Mulberries, garlic ramps, wild grapes, dandelion greens, chrysanthemum leaves, the list goes on and on. Because my dad was the opportunistic forager, my poor mother’s purse basically became his foraging basket. My mother has yet to forgive him for ruining her Gucci handbag sometime in the late 80’s….

Single Black Locust Flower

         He is now visiting me here in Berlin and he is doing his Linnaean best to catalogue every edible species on our block. (And thankfully, he has learned to keep his hands to himself.) So for the next couple of posts, we will be picking and eating wild plants – all courtesy of Omnieater’s dad.

So today’s plant is the black locust tree (Robinia pseudoacacia). Native to North America, it has been introduced quite successfully to Europe, Southern Africa and Asia. The tree is common in urban areas, due to its ability to tolerate pollution, harsh winters and poor soil well (it’s a nitrogen-fixer!). Furthermore, as it grows large rapidly, it makes for an ideal tree for city beautification projects. In fact, if you look, you probably have them in a park near you.[1]

        While the bark and leaves are poisonous, the flowers and the seeds (they are legumes, thus produce bean-like pods) are edible. However, the seeds contain toxalbumin robin, a poison that must be heated to destroy its toxicity.  But the flowers (see picture), which have a 10-day blooming period, can be eaten right away. (In Korea, they are considered a hiking snack). They have a sweet floral/herbal taste that is similar to that of elderflower (which we will cover later when the season comes!).

           But what to do with them? Beyond the obvious garnish on a dessert, it makes for an excellent base for cordials, which then can be used for desserts, cocktails, marinades, dressings; basically whatever you would use a flavored syrup for. But before you go stripping your neighborhood tree, here are a couple of generic tips for foraging.

1.     If you aren’t sure of what it is, DO NOT eat it. Always double check with a good foragers’ guide. Also, if you are a novice forager, try to find an experienced forager to go with the first time around – so you don’t get lost or accidentally land in the hospital.

2.     Make sure the area from which you forage is free of chemicals and debris (as in dog poop) – thus your neighbor’s super manicured lawn is not a good choice (they are filled with toxic pesticides and fertilizers).

3.     Do not be piggy and strip a plant dry. Take what you need and save some for the animals that need them. Even in the case of plants such as nettle and dandelions, some form of life depends on them in the ecosystem. Remember, we share the earth.

            With that in mind, go forth and forage. And my dad? Well he still can be a pain. But then again, I can too. All his little personality bugs - his rectitude, the brute honesty, the competitiveness, and his Darwinian universe- are my personality bugs. And while my 16 year-old self would hate to admit it, I still have a lot to learn from dad – and about nature – human and otherwise. I can only hope to leave those lessons for the next generation – my daughter. And I hope that I don’t have to embarrass her by eating everything off the road.

Black Locust Flower Cordial

            This is dead easy. Just a couple of notes. Make sure your flowers are clean and dry. Second, use a non-reactive bowl (e.g. plastic or glass) as the citric acid will react with metal bowls. And third, you can usually find citric acid online or in the canning/jam section of the grocery store. And remember to sterilize your glass bottles and caps. If you don’t know how to do that, this website shows you how: http://www.wikihow.com/Sterilize-Bottles-and-Jars-for-Preserves

Yield: About 1.5 liters

20 large black locust flower heads

5 c. of water

7 c. sugar (granulated)

2 unwaxed lemons (organic is best for this recipe)

2 oz. of citric acid

1.     Shake the flowers gently to rid them of any insects, and place them into a large non-reactive bowl.

2.     Pour sugar and water into a large pot and bring to a boil. Stir until the sugar completely dissolves.

3.     While you make the sugar syrup, zest the lemons into wide strips (vegetable peeler works wonders) and place zest in the bowl with the flowers. Slice the remaining lemons, discard the ends, and place into the flower bowl.

4.     Pour boiling sugar syrup into the flower bowl and stir in citric acid. Cover the bowl with a clean, sterile cloth and let the mixture steep for 24 hours at room temperature.

5.     Strain cordial through a sterile cloth lined sieve into sterilized bottles. The syrup also freezes well as ice cubes or in plastic bags.

---

[1] The plants are quite common across North America. In Chicago, where I grew up, they were everywhere. The evolutionary hardiness, in terms of poor soil tolerance (in areas that are heavily polluted or disturbed, the black locust will readily grow to full size), has condemned it to an “invasive species.” (This is still up for debate within the biology community.)

Look What You Can Find Outside!

Stinky Leaf or Garlic Scapes!  First foraging harvest of the season.