We enjoyed the sour cream peach pie as dessert and being true New Englanders, at least where breakfast is concerned, ate the rest of the pie as breakfasts for the next few days, but that one pie didn’t solve the streusel vs. lattice debate. I had to make another pie. Fortunately, the market still had a supply of peaches. The elevated stature of peaches in mythology and folk tales suggested that I make a peach pie of elevated stature. Here’s how I did it: … read more

Last week, everywhere I went, people were talking about peaches, not just any peaches, but Pennsylvania and New Jersey peaches.

My peach extravaganza began by dropping three peaches into boiling water for a minute, then immersing them in cold water, slipping off the peel and slicing them into two bowls. I added a squeeze of lemon juice and a rounded teaspoon of sugar to each bowl and invited Charles to share a mid-afternoon snack in the garden. Perfection!Time to move onto peach pie. The lattice vs. streusel debate had me thinking. I remembered a recipe for a sour cream apple pie with a streusel topping and decided to adapt it. Here’s how I did it: … read more

Do you still have snow? Is the sap running? Have you seen mergansers on the river?

These familiar questions are heard at the post office, the Creamery, the market, and at community dinners in the early spring.

It was a bright morning last April, when I saw pink sprouts pushing up through the cold earth. Within a week, there were pink stems topped with dark green leaves. Rhubarb! It would be the first harvest from my garden. Along with the phoebes that nest in the rafters of the barn, it’s rhubarb that announces the arrival of spring in Vermont.

A lilac bush, a clump of rhubarb and a stonewall may be all that remains of a homestead abandoned a hundred years earlier. The dark green leaves, full of oxalic acid, are poisonous but the bright pink or drab green stems are loaded with flavor. It doesn’t need much attention, an occasion scoop of well-rotted manure and cutting back the flowering stalks when they appear will keep the harvest coming until early summer.

Technically rhubarb is a vegetable, but I think of it as a fruit that can be roasted and topped with a dollop of yogurt, baked in a pie or simmered with dried fruit to make chutney.

A week after the sprouts had appeared, it was impossible for me to wait any longer. There wasn’t enough rhubarb to make a pie, but there were enough stems for a ‘dessert for one’. That bowl of sweet-tart, roasted rhubarb satisfied my rhubarb cravings. Here’s how I did it:

Roasted Rhubarb

I put four stalks of rhubarb, cut in one-inch pieces in a bowl along with two tablespoons of sugar. While it rested in the sugar for half an hour, I weeded the rhubarb patch. When I’d finished weeding, I poured the rhubarb and the juice that had formed into a buttered ceramic baking dish. After roasting at 175-degrees C /350-F degrees for half an hour it was tender and surrounded with sweet pink syrup. I poured in a generous splash of heavy cream, added a sprinkle of freshly grated nutmeg and returned it to the oven for ten more minutes. It was edible proof that spring had come.

I like to eat it still hot from the oven, with an antique silver spoon that was my grandmother’s, but no one has complained when I have served it chilled as dessert or topped with granola for breakfast. Rhubarb from the garden with cream from a Vermont dairy and local maple syrup is eating local at its best.

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A piece of pie is often breakfast in New England. A slice of custardy rhubarb pie served with a steamy cup of coffee does the trick. It was my friend Kathy who generously served me my first piece of this pie. Here’s how I made it when I was able to harvest enough rhubarb: … read more

Saturday was a beautiful, cold, gray, windy, winter day.

I’m not complaining, the air above the frozen pond was white. (Can it be so cold that fog freezes?) The trees on the hill were  black and created a startling contrast to the white field. The alpacas were cozy inside their upscale fleece. Rosie, working on her version of a canine snow angel, was frequently distracted by the scent of creatures tunneling beneath the icy crust of snow. On the other hand, I wanted pie. Not a frozen pie from the market, not a pumpkin pie made from a tin of pumpkin, not an apple pie, I wanted a pie  that would leave pink streaks on the plate. I was missing summer pies.

What to do — I opened the freezer and found a bag of cranberries and remembered that I had once made a cranberry pie but I couldn’t remember how. I had to be adventurous, think creatively and get started. I had an unbaked pie crust in the freezer and I began by rinsing the cranberries and thinking of pies past. I knew that the birds would be pleased with the pie if I wasn’t. Luckily –

It look good enough to slice.

One bite

After the next

Sorry birdies — maybe next time.

Here’s how I made it.

… read more