Springtime in Portland: Reluctantly Celebrating the Signs of a New Season

Every year, I tell my friends - and neighbors, and strangers, and, most fervently, myself - that this sunshine, this greening, this blossoming of the city of Portland is a trick. I say it's mean, cold-hearted trick known emphatically as Fake Spring, a phenomenon which draws us in year after year, luring us with daffodils and cherry blossoms. I climb up on my Dr. Bronner's soap box and preach the dangers of optimistically starting those raised beds and staring too long from the office window at the brightness outside. This is a specter of a new season. This is a trap. We're coddled with temperatures in the fifties, drawn out to play Frisbee in the streets, and warmed like sleepy lizards by the sun, only to fall heavily back into rain, chill, and frost for a few more months. A truly mean trick. And every year, without fail, I fall for it.

Classic Strawberry Cream Pie

A few days ago I came home to a kitchen table overflowing with pints of strawberries, filling the house with their ripe perfume. My first emotion was a hit of sadness, as I'm missing some of the best weeks of Portland's own strawberry season while I'm down here in Los Angeles, but my second emotion could only be described as OH-YES-ITS-PIE-TIME!



After a brief Tastespotting search, I came across a recipe for a classic Strawberry Cream Pie from the Better Homes & Gardens Dessert Cook Book, published in 1960, the age of REAL DESSERTS, and after a few modifications (like replacing some of the whipped cream with sour cream for a cheescakier flavor), I had a really gorgeous pie that showcased the berries in all of their glory.

This was the dessert of my "Last Supper" before getting my wisdom teeth out yesterday, and it was a perfect accompaniment to big, meaty beef ribs with my dad's improvised BBQ sauce (think crushed pineapple, beet juice, chipotle hot sauce, red onions, garlic, tomato sauce, molasses, honey, mustard, apple cider vinegar, and grilled pickled jalapenos), crunchy coleslaw with my secret creamy dressing, and grilled ratatouille with lots of fresh basil.

By contrast, the past two days have been filled with frozen yogurt, mashed potatoes, and tomato basil soup, which, let me tell you, is going to get old real fast. I keep having daydreams of Screen Door fried chicken, toasted Kettlemans bagels, crispy cucumbers, and, well, anything not mushy. At least I can still write about/read about/watch movies about food. Yes, at least there's that. Eat crunchy things for me!

Classic Strawberry Cream Pie
Adapted from Laura Flowers and Better Homes & Gardens Dessert Cook Book, published 1960.

1 9-inch pie crust (I use the 'Foolproof Pie Dough' from Cooks' Illustrated)
1 recipe cream filling (below)
3 cups fresh strawberries
½ cup water
¼ cup sugar
2 teaspoons cornstarch

Pre-bake pie crust using pie weights or dried beans. Let cool. Fill with chilled Cream Filling. Quarter two and a half cups of the strawberries, place in large bowl. Crush remaining half cup berries (I used a potato masher); add water; cook 2 minutes. Mix sugar and cornstarch: gradually stir into berry sauce. Cook over low heat, and stir until thick. Cool slightly; pour over bowl of quartered strawberries, mix well. Arrange over cream filling. Keep refrigerated until served.

Cream Filling

½ cup sugar
3 tablespoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons enriched flour
½ teaspoon salt
2 cups heavy cream
1 slightly beaten egg
½ cup sour cream

Mix first 4 ingredients. Gradually stir in cream. Stirring constantly, bring to a boil; reduce heat and stir until thick. Stir a little of the hot mixture into egg; return to remaining hot mixture. Bring just to boiling, stirring constantly. Cool, then chill. Beat well; fold in sour cream. (I'd let this cool for a few hours, at least, maybe even overnight before piling the strawberries on top. That gives it more of a cheesecake-y texture that is really amazing)

Inside-Out Carrot Cake Cookies

I have a habit of sneaking root vegetables and other clandestine, healthy foods into my baked goods, including beet brownies and a zucchini chocolate cake that once prompted my friend Calvin to exclaim, "We may be BFF forever, but I will never let you molest my desserts with vegetables."

I think even Calvin would like these cookies, seeing as carrots have somehow passed the cultural acceptability test. Why is that? What makes a carrot any less of an "un-dessert" food than a beet, or a new potato, or beans?



Since the middle ages, whenever sugar was expensive or hard to come by, certain fruits and vegetables were used to add sweetness to puddings and baked goods. Carrots (and sugar beets, I might add) have a very high sugar content and were able to add that extra something to cakes and sweets. The popularity of carrot cake peaked in the Second World War, due to sugar rationing, and by the 1970's, there was no looking back. Those little iced orange and green carrots on top of a thick layer of cream cheese frosting became a staple in bakeries, cafeterias, and American kitchens. I asked for a carrot cake year after year for my birthday as a kid, and I still love the textures and colors of the old favorite, though I'm now more inclined to favor the natural orange (or other heirloom colors) over the artificial neon colors of yesteryear.



Though we now combine carrots with the sugar they were intended to replace, it's hard not to feel a little virtuous when you pour in a cup of grated, raw carrots to a bowl of cookie dough. This take on carrot cake is a really fun, portable way to bring individual, hand-held desserts to a BBQ. I incorporated more spices and mixed carrots directly into the frosting, which gives great color and texture to the sandwich filling. If it feels a little decadent to eat two cookies at once, slathered with icing, just think of it as a small portion of cake. But don't argue with yourself too much over the merits or demerits of the inside-out carrot cake cookie, or they'll disappear before you make up your mind.

Eat well!

Inside-Out Carrot Cake Cookies with Carrot Cream Cheese Frosting
Adapted from Gourmet, April 2004

Ingredients

1 1/8 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ginger
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, softened
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons packed dark brown sugar
1/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 large egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups coarsely grated carrots, divided
1 cup pecans, chopped
1/2 cup dried cranberries
8 ounces cream cheese
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup powdered sugar or 1/4 cup honey

Preparation

Put oven racks in upper and lower thirds of oven and preheat oven to 375°F. Grease 2 baking sheets or line with parchment paper (these can get sticky, I recommend the parchment).

Whisk together flour, spices, baking soda, and salt in a bowl.

Beat together butter, sugars, egg, and vanilla in a bowl with an electric mixer at medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Mix in 1 cup of the carrots carrots, all of the pecans and cranberries at low speed, then add flour mixture and beat until just combined.

Drop 1 1/2 tablespoons batter per cookie 2 inches apart on baking sheets and bake, switching position of sheets halfway through baking, until cookies are lightly browned and springy to the touch, 12 to 16 minutes total. Cool cookies on sheets on racks 1 minute, then transfer cookies to racks to cool completely.

While cookies are baking, blend cream cheese, butter, and sugar (or honey) in a food processor until smooth. Add the other cup of grated carrots to frosting, mix well.

Sandwich flat sides of cookies together with a generous tablespoon of cream cheese filling in between.

Enjoy!

Flowers of the Portland Farmers' Market

Although the farmers' market is always one of the most colorful places in Portland, it seems as though this year is the most vibrant yet. Flower vendors are more abundant than ever, and farmers that once sold your typical fruit and veg fare are now stepping it up with a large selection of potted and cut flowers. All told, this makes for some stunning sights, as the colors catch the Saturday morning light on my weekly rounds of the market blocks. My sister and her partner Mike were visiting me last week, and as it was Mike's first time in Portland, he was amazed at the amount of flowers that line the streets, from landscaped yards full of tulips and irises, to corner flower shops bursting with colorful displays, to the marigolds and cosmos that are the cornerstone of my early balcony garden. We're entering the time of year when Portland is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful towns in the world - when all that water pays off and the clouds lift (at least for a few days at a time) - and nothing makes the City of Roses quite as beautiful as her flowers.

I thought I'd share a few shots of this year's floral offerings at the farmers' market. We're already seeing the first strawberries and early zucchini, and lettuces are now standard, but flowers are still taking center stage. Take a moment and feel yourself in the sun today - we've made it safely out of the winter, and it's going to be a beautiful year.

PFM Saturday: Getting Lost in the Crowds

Portland is still doing that April thing (you know, with the sun, then the rain, then the clouds, then the sun, then...) and I'm less than two weeks from the end of classes. Lemonbasil has always been the best during the summer, and that's a combination of the produce available at the peak of the year and the fact that I have TIME to cook, style, shoot, and blog about new recipes, restaurants, and market events. This summer, being the first summer of the rest of my life as a non-student, is bound to have a defibrillator effect on the old blog - I'm already making lists of the events I want to cover, the videos (!) I want to make, the recipes I want to craft, but those thoughts are stolen moments from this giant thing I should be doing: my thesis. It's so near completion, and I'm utterly terrified about tying up all of my loose ends and actually submitting a final, 120+ page document, that the blog has made a necessary move to the back burner.



Even if I'm not blogging as much as I'd like to, It's such a haven to wander the market in a big raincoat, hiding behind a lens, and getting lost in the crowds downtown. It was such a rare treat to have my parents in town last week, but the market is usually a relatively solitary experience for me. I love my farmer friends, PFM staffers and volunteers, and all the happy faces of shoppers, but Saturday morning is really a meditative alone-time, allowing me to think about the week passed, the week ahead, and the fleeting seasons. There were tomatoes at the market this morning. Tomatoes! Spring's going to slip away before we know it. I'm very lucky to have the market--every week--pulling me to dust off the camera and distract me from the grey cartoon rain-cloud of academia that travels over me all the time. Oh, man, this post is kind of morose. Sorry about that. Here! Have some pretty pictures with sunshine, food, and cheerier things than my melancholic pout:



















(Oh! And in case you didn't know, you can know follow me on Twitter @allisonejones, with market updates, irreverent musings, and exclusive, uh, exclusives.)

Eat well!

Portland Farmers' Market Saturday!

This morning at the market felt like a holiday! My parents are in town from California, so I was able to show off our gem of a farmers' gathering, brag about our asparagus, treat them to their first Pine State Biscuit sandwich, and introduce them to my favorite farmers.




Not that I ever forget how amazing our market is, but there is an undeniable joy and invigorating pride that comes with introducing the market to outsiders--I say that like we're some sort of secret club...which is maybe not too far from the truth. My parents have an amazing year-round garden, both at home and at the school where my mother is a special-ed teacher, but it's astonishing how hard it is to get local produce "with the farmer's face on it" in Southern California. They have a few markets here and there, but they are always amazed to see how easy it is to get to know the people who grow/raise/make/artisanize food in Oregon. I'm on a continuous campaign to get them to move up here, and every trip to the market is one more tally in the Pro column.



A couple new developments at the market this week - the ASPARAGUS is out in full force, the rainbow carrots are showing up the ol' orange variety with their ostentatious colors, and the plant starts are all getting a little bigger.



I even spied some large potted cherry tomatoes with plenty of yellow blossoms! I took advantage of my parent's formidable carrying powers by turning them into my own "veggie valet" and was able to get one of Ron and Joan's Salad Bowls from Rainyway Farms that I'd been eying for a few weeks.



I also picked up a cherry tomato start and took advantage of the AMAZING Growing Gardens potting station with plants, soil, and fertilizer supplied by Portland Nursery and Whitney Farms.



I bought a $2 tomato plant and the lovely ladies from the PDX non-profit Growing Gardens gave it a lovely new home, complete with watering tips, for free. Yep, free. They'll be in the center of the market all month, so get out there and buy some plants!





I have a tiny little balcony in a downtown brownstone apartment, but my folks are going to help me set up a little kitchen garden. I already have a bunch of herbs in my kitchen window, but I want to use as much space as I can to grow my own edibles. If I can do it in ten square feet, so can you, especially with the help of some amazing volunteers and farmers at the market. They grow things for a living, and are always happy to give gardening tips, so ask away!



We've also just launched the Official Portland Farmers Market Blog, and I'll be a regular contributor. We'll have interviews, recipes, market news, and videos from the most happening place in town. I'll still be Lemonbasil-ing as much as I can, so keep me bookmarked! I hope to see you down at the market next week.

Enjoy Spring and Eat Well!

Here's your weekly dose of Portland bounty, fresh from the market: