Taste Adventure - Sour Cherries

Behold, the sour cherry. And the sour cherry pie. Oh, the sweet sour cherry pie.

Until about 10 days ago I always thought that sour cherries were an edible myth created by American food editors. Created to make do with smaller Bing cherries or like fried green tomatoes, something to do with unripe fruit. Then I was wandering through the tables of yet another BC fruit seller at the market, comparing prices for a small container of blueberries, when I noticed the sign. If it wasn't for the sign I probably wouldn't have noticed the sour cherries. They looked like a smaller, paler cousin to the giant Bings. So I snapped up a large container for a ridiculous price and daydreamed about all the recipes I've read over the years.

And then I remembered that I gave away all my magazines.

But really, there was only one thing to do. How could I not make pie to pop my sour cherry? Yes, I just said that. That's how monumental this is.

The first taste was surprising. You know the canned cherry pie filling you can buy? The kind that fills every commercial pie and black forest cake? Surprisingly, a plain sour cherry tastes exactly like that, just less sweet. I had kind of figured that this mythical creature was like grape juice - the real tasting radically different from the processed. That taste excited me immensely and gave me a huge boost of confidence. I figured there was no way to mess this up.

To give you an idea of the size of a sour cherry here it is next to an organic Rainier. The organic ones are smaller than the regular ones and that sour cherry seemed positively tiny in comparison to a regular Bing. They were easy to pit, simply coming apart between my thumbs.

The Monster and I pitted the cherries, we boiled the juices with some cornstarch and sugar, stirred in the rest of the cherries and a generous pat of butter. Then I made some pate brisee, chilled it, and when I rolled it out I knew I had a winner. I made the pies, mopped on some cream, and sprinkled them with raw sugar for some extra crunch. I put them in a hot oven, then I promptly forgot about them.

It was a near disaster in an already frustrating day. But I caught them just before complete failure. The juices ran just a little and those were the really cooked bits, and easily picked off. In the end, though, they were the perfect finish to an eventful day. And like any good first date, it ended well. So well.

I do have some cherry pie filling left. I froze the bit that was left in the hopes that I'll find more sour cherries this weekend. If not, then I figure I'm going to try and use regular Bings, perhaps with a bit of almond extract added.

Cherry Hand Pies
Makes 15-16 generously sized pies

Pate brisee (enough for a double crust pie)

5 cups pitted sour cherries, loosely packed

3/4 cup granulated sugar or vanilla sugar

3 tablespoons cornstarch

2 tablespoons water

1/2 lemon, juice

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 tablespoons butter

1. Make your pate brisee or pie crust recipe. Chill well.

2. Once you have pitted your cherries drain them. Pour off the juice into a small saucepan, with one cup of cherries and the sugar. Heat over medium high heat until the sugar is dissolved and liquid is boiling.

3. Meanwhile, stir the cornstarch and the water together. Once the cherry liquid is boiling add the cornstarch mixture. Continue to boil until the liquid is clear, a few minutes.

4. Remove from heat and add the butter. Once the butter is melted add the remaining cherries. Set aside to cool.

5. Once the mixture is cool take your pate brisee out of the fridge. On a lightly floured surface roll out the dough to a quarter inch thickness. Cut into roughly 4 by 6 inch squares or cut out circles about 5 inches in diameter, whatever is your preference.

6. Working one at a time, place 2 heaping tablespoons of filling on the center of each piece of dough. Fold one side over the other and seal well by pinching the edges together. You could finish by pressing a fork around the edge.

7. Place on a Silpat or parchment lined cookie sheet, brush with cream or milk, sprinkle with raw sugar, and cut two small slits in the top of each. Place in the freezer.

8. Preheat your oven to 400 degrees F.

9. Bake pies for 15-20 minutes, until golden brown.

This is the second week for Summer Fest '09. Make sure you take a browse around the other participants. A Way to Garden, Matt Bites, White on Rice Couple, and Steamy Kitchen, among others are leading the way. Make sure to share your own Summer Fest experiences here, there, and everywhere.

A Business Idea

My brother and his wife, and numerous friends of mine are fantastic with their kids' birthday cakes.  I default to cupcakes, but these folks are producing cars, trains, pirate ships, teapots, and yes, a box of crayons. Yes, I am jealous.

So my new business idea - feel free to steal it as long as you promise to give me royalties for life - is a bakery that specializes in kids' cakes.  This isn't Ace of Cakes perfection.  This is stayed-up-til-midnight-dotting-buttercream-on-cake-mix love. Someone should be baking and selling cakes that look like mom and dad made them the night before, so mom and dad can pass them off as homemade - to their kids and their friends.

Again, all I ask for is royalties.

The above cake was another homemade masterpiece by my brother and sister-in-law, in celebration of this little blue eyed wonder.

For The Love of Rhubarb

Walking the dogs the other night I was seriously tempted to do a little midnight gardening. Now, I'm a thirty-something mom with a mortgage, a real job (as opposed to a McJob), and significantly less alcohol running through my blood than I did 10 or even 15 years ago. Midnight gardening is not something I should be doing.  You know what I mean, right?  Sneaking into gardens to pull carrots, pick strawberries, and sneak raspberries?  Oh, maybe that's just what us bored kids in the 'burbs did.

So there I am walking the dogs in the near dark.  Business done, I notice this giant, neglected rhubarb plant in the corner of the alley.  Just tucked behind someone's garage, begging to be chopped down, this lush plant called to me.  "Pick me!  Come on, you know you want to do it. Pick me!"

The thirty-something mom in me prevailed and I went home with only a dog-poop bag in hand.

A few days later, however, we were working on the fence with the neighbour.  The girls wandered down the alley and when I chased after them I came across their rhubarb plant. I completely forgot that they have two of these plants.  Since they would never harvest and use all of it, and they really didn't need to store one more thing, I volunteered to take it off their hands.  Really, I'm that generous.

At this point it was necessary to bring out a bowl of sugar and introduce the girls to one of my favourite childhood treats - rhubarb dipped in sugar.  We pulled up a pile of wood, watched Hubby cut some of that wood and our neighbour shovel gravel, munching away.  Okay, I munched away, The Monster sucked sugar off and tried to peel her rhubarb, and Smilosaurus gummed the stalk and fought to put handfuls of sugar directly in her mouth.  Perhaps the introduction was a bit too early?

When it was time to get the girls out of the way of Hubby we came inside and baked. Conveniently, nature provides the perfect match for rhubarb, strawberries.  I know it seems a little cliche, but they really are made for each other.  There is a reason they mature together. Armed with the first of the BC strawberries I knew that nothing but a crisp was in order. Everyone else can have their cobblers, crumbles, and brown betty.  I love me a crispy crisp.

In my eyes, a perfect crisp has a slightly runny syrup, chunky fruit, and a crisp, oat-filled top. Pick your fruit based on the season, but don't mess with the top.  Ever.  No extra seasonings, no fancy additions.  Simple, plain, and balanced.  And whatever you do, please leave the nuts out. They just don't belong.

Where it does pay to be creative is in the filling.  Spice, limitless fruit combinations, and unexpected additions are all welcome here.  Looking to branch out  - just a little - from my usual strong vanilla accents with the strawberry rhubarb crisp I dug through my recently organized spices.  Cinnamon?  Nah, too predictable. Nutmeg?  Feels too wintery.  Cardamon? Ooh, now that could be nice.  Holy freakin' gawd, it was amazing!  Try this.  Now.

When it comes to cardamon, a little goes a long way.  It would have been a lot better if I had some whole pods to grind fresh, but a little ground, dried spice still worked wonders.  It really was a perfect compliment to the tartness of the rhubarb and sweetness of the fresh strawberries.  We invited our neighbours over for dinner.  Good fences do make good neighbours.  And rhubarb honestly got makes you a better neighbour.

Cardomon Strawberry Rhubarb Crisp

(serves 4 for dinner, and possibly a little leftover for breakfast, topped with yogurt)

Filling

2 cups sliced strawberries

2 cups sliced rhubarb

1/4 cup brown sugar

2 tablespoons flour

1 tablespoon cornstarch

1/2 teaspoon - 1 tsp ground cardamon (depending on how strong it smells) 

Topping

1/2 cup softened butter

1/2 cup brown sugar

3/4 cup flour

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 1/4 cup rolled oats

1. Preheat your oven to 350 degrees F.  Spray an 8 by 8 baking dish (or similar size) with non-stick spray or butter the pan.

2. Gently mix together the fruit through to the cardamon.  Pour into the baking dish and set aside.

3.  Cream the butter and brown sugar.  Add in the flour and salt.  Finally, stir in the oats.  Do not overstir or mix because you can break up the oats and that diminishes the crispiness.

4. Using your fingers, top the filling with clumps of the topping.  Do not press down.  

5.  Bake for 20-30 minutes, until the filling if bubbling and the top is lightly browned.  Let cool and serve with ice cream, whipped cream, or yogurt. 

In The Zone

This past week was the second one in the Kitchn's Kitchen Cure.  Our task this week was to organize kitchen equipment.  A rather large task in most cooks' kitchens.  For me that meant two drawers of utensils, a drawer with pots and lids, a plastic storage container drawer, my baking supplies spread round the kitchen, and one random corner cupboard filled with extra spices, a colander, our turkey frier pieces, and a bunch of other crap.

The first step was to pitch any and all duplicates.  After that I got rid of supplies I never use, like the old cookie sheets and pots that were broken or had no matching lid.  These went into the pile for Goodwill.

My second step was to take anything out of the kitchen that isn't used on a regular basis - springform pans, lobster eating utensils, and the aforementioned turkey frier accoutrements.  These all went to the cold storage section of the basement.  That has to be another organizational task before we frame the basement, but not for now.

After the purge and the subsequent clean it came time to reorganize things.  With PBS Kids on for The Monster and The Smilosaurus napping I took a step back to evaluate how I really use the kitchen.  Truly, I have zones that I work in: baking/prep, clean-up, stove, and serving.  Sure, the kitchen isn't designed this way and it takes some creative thinking, but my brain thinks it works.

The stove section includes the pots, cooking utensils, all our oils and spices on open shelves.   Clean-up includes the sink and recently installed dishwasher, with dish storage right above. The serving section is the countertop below the dish and pantry storage.  And by serving section I mean a space of uncluttered countertop closest to the table.

Finally, I created a baking station.  We bought some freestanding cabinetry a few months back. Smilosaurus started crawling and was getting into everything on our open storage units.  When the dishwasher went in we also lost some existing cabinetry.  These new units were great - large, sturdy, and full of storage potential.  But I just dumped stuff in them without really thinking about it.  This exercise forced me to take a step back and think about how to use them most effectively.  

It's no secret that I love to bake, as does The Monster.  So I took one unit, filled it with all the baking utensils and pantry ingredients, and parked the little chair she stands on next to it.  Now everything is in one spot.  We have a large countertop space, only interrupted with the knife block, cutting board, and the Kitchen Aid.  It is still my prep station, after all.  But we can mix, roll, cut, and generally making a mess and it all stays confined.  Hubby can be at the sink, Smilosaurus can crawl around, and none of us are falling on top of each other.

One of the changes I made was taking my baking pans from the tall cabinet by the sink.  It always made sense to have them there, standing up.  There was, however, this stupid hook thing hanging from under the counter.  Pans were constantly getting caught on it.  Yes, I could have taken it out, but that wasn't the only problem with the cupboard.  There was just too much stuff it and it wasn't easy for The Monster to get things from there.  Considering that our baking generally revolves around cookies and muffins, I needed a better option.

With the focused baking center I got that.  I took one drawer and put in all the well-used baking supplies.  And yes, the largest item - the cookie sheets are on top.  Who wants to pull out all the pie plates, measuring cups, loaf pans, and spoons to get to the cookies sheets?  So much easier now.  Of course, after all this I need to giving Hubby an orientation.

Well, PBS Kids is nearly over and its time to bake.  I think we are going to try oatmeal cookies with cranberries and the white chocolate chips I found while cleaning.