Freezer and Pantry Valentine: Part 3. The Pudding

Make an impressive three course meal for two on Valentine's Day using ingredients you already have. For the pudding, make hot and gooey apple-chocolate bread pudding. (I told you it was impressive.)

Opposites attract, so avoid arguing over fruit or chocolate and have both.  After all, it IS Valentine's.

Apple-Chocolate Bread Pudding for Two

a hunk of stale bread (french stick is good but anything will do), cut into chunks 
1 apple, peeled and chopped (or maybe some frozen berries, or perhaps a handful of raisins or other dried fruit) 
1 egg (non negotiable, sorry vegans)
1/2 cup milk (or cream, or mmmmm maybe chocolate milk.....) 
3 tbsp sugar, I used white, but use what you have, or honey or maple syrup.....
knob of butter, cut into small pieces
a handful of chocolate chips (or chopped chocolate or, I don't know, mini marshmallows...)

MAKE AHEAD: You probably don't want to be running around like a crazy person feeling harassed and frustrated on Valentine's Day.  So get this ready before you pop your main in the oven, you could assemble it hours ahead, more time for the egginess to soak into the breadiness. Pop it the oven as soon as the quail comes out and impress your love with a heartwarming dessert.

Chances are good you've got all the ingredients already.  The
uneaten end of a loaf of bread, that apple which inexplicably
no one is eating, chocolate chips lost way in the back of the
freezer... eggs, milk butter, sugar.  Okay, maybe you don't
have the exact items, but you've got something that will work.

Your oven will be nicely preheated to 350F from cooking your quail.

Butter two individual ramekins.

Stuff the ramekins full with bread mixed with the apple, and chocolate - save a wee bit of the chocolate to sprinkle on the top.  Really jam it those ramekins.

Whisk together your egg, milk and sugar.  Slowly pour the egg mixture over the bread giving it time to soak in, you may want to encourage this by pressing the bread down a bit.  

Top with a few teensy bits of butter and reserved chocolate.

Place the ramekins on a shallow pan and bake uncovered for 30 minutes, or until the custard is set and the top is golden brown.  Let cool a few minutes before serving, to avoid comically blowing on each other through the first half of the dessert course.

~~~

'bou likes fruity desserts and I don't believe something counts as dessert unless it contains chocolate, whipped cream or meringue.  With this pudding, I look like I'm being considerate of caribougrrl while giving myself a little chocolate valentine.

caribougrrl is always complaining (under the guise of teasing) about the British obsession with making dessert out of stale bread, but I think she's starting to get used to them.  And for godsakes, I put an APPLE in it.  

But don't kid yourself, the next time she's away I'm going to make this with chocolate milk and mini marshmallows.  Just don't tell her...

Be My, Be My Dutch Baby

In these northern climates, we really should be taking a cue from the south and use Mardi Gras as an excuse to fend off the dregs of winter with beads, sequins and feathers.  Instead, we will sit at home with our pancakes. 

Rather than the usual humdrum stack of hotcakes, the least we can do is add some excitement and make one uber-impressive big puffy pancake.

Dutch Baby Pancake with Spiced Apples

Dutch baby is a lot like an enormous Yorkshire pudding. The pancake itself is not overy sweet, and the ginger and black pepper give the apples a surprising but pleasant heat... a perfect counter to the sweet and slight tart of the apples. Nevermind how good it tastes though, the wow factor when you pull it out of the oven will make you feel like you didn't work hard enough for it.

for the pancake:


In the spirit of Fat Tuesday, use up some of the good stuff.

4 eggs
1/2 c. unbleached all-purpose flour
1/2 c. (scant) whole wheat flour
1 c. milk
4 tsp local honey
1 tbsp lard or butter


for the apple topping:
 
2 or 3 med-sized apples*
juice of 1/2 lemon
1/2 tsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp fresh ground black pepper
1 tbsp honey
1/2 tbsp butter or lard

*we used Spartan apples; by this time of year almost any apple picked last fall, particularly if it wasn't stored well, is more of a cooking apple than an eating apple... use a tart apple for best results

When the dutch baby is done, it's puffed up all over and golden brown.  It will collapse as it begins to cool, don't worry about that.  Just make sure everyone's in the kitchen to see it emerge from the oven.

Pre-heat oven to 425F.  Put a cold cast iron skillet in the oven during the pre-heat so that the pan is good and hot when it's time to cook the dutch baby.

Put eggs, flour, milk and honey in a blender (in that order).  Blend on a low-ish speed to combine, then on a not-quite-high speed for 30-45 seconds.  Let sit at room temp while the oven finishes heating. 

When the oven is hot, open it and drop the lard onto the pan, quickly close the door.  Whiz the batter in the blender again to mix.  By now the lard should be melted.  Working quickly, open the oven and pull out the rack with the pan, pour the batter into the hot fat, push the rack back in, and close the door.  Turn the oven down to 400F and cook for 20-25 minutes.  DO NOT OPEN THE OVEN until at least 20 minutes has passed. 

Tart apples sweetened with a touch of honey are a good complement to
the heat of the ginger and pepper.

When you put the pancakes in the oven, get the apples started.  Toss the apple with lemon juice as you slice.  Melt butter in a skillet over medium heat, add apples and toss to coat, let cook 2 minutes.  Add spices, toss to coat, and cook until the apples soften, about 6 minutes, stirring occassionally.  Drizzle with honey, put a lid on the skillet and turn the heat down low to finish cooking (about 3-5 minutes).  Stir just before serving.

The pancake is done when it is puffed up high (including the center) and is golden brown. If you peek at it at 20 minutes and it's not done, close the door quickly and wait for 3-5 minutes longer.

To serve: Spoon apple mixture over dutch baby and sprinkle with icing sugar, to taste.

Mimic the outdoors inside: icing sugar creates a bit of snowfall on the apple-topped dutch baby.

 

~~~

Newfoundland is a quirky place. I don't mean that disparagingly, it's just the way of things. One of it's quirks is around Mardi Gras.  Every year, people dress up in costumes and converge on George Street in St. John's for a big outdoor street party.  Lots of dancing, lots of drinking, prizes for the best costumes... sounds not so strange for a Mardi Gras event, right?  Except it's in October.  The part of October more commonly known as Hallowe'en.  By which, I mean the weekend closest to (so, also, never on an actual Tuesday).

Maybe that's because it's still warm enough in October to mill around outdoors with a plastic cup of booze in your hands, dressed in a costume of questionable decorum? (Though that still doesn't explain calling it Mardi Gras).  The real Fat Tuesday, on the other hand, occurs in the worst part of winter... right when the rest of the civilized northern hemisphere is starting to believe spring will actually happen sometime soon; but we know it won't, not here.  That same trick of the Atlantic Ocean which keeps Newfoundland warm-ish through October pulls a fast one in March and does not let us shake winter off for a good long time yet. 

Having watched the entire available library of Treme while stuck indoors so much over the last few months, Fefe Noir and I have, admittedly, developed a little bit of New-Orleans-style-Mardi-Gras envy.  What we NEED this time of year is a big old silly street party, a way to defy the bleak outlook.  Fight the winter with beads, sequins, feathers and outdoor dancing. 

Realistically, we will stay in... but maybe we'll get all dressed up and listen to some marching band jazz while we eat our pancakes.

Hedgerow Under Frost

Fefe Noir's British heritage leaves her with a soft spot for desserts made from stale bread.  This is a handy predilection with a house full of apples and a freezer full of not-quite-successful sourdough bread.

Hedgerow Under Frost

(an interpretation of Peasant Girl with a Veil)

Rosehips add fantastic colour and depth of flavour to apples.

1-1/2 lbs apple and rosehip pulp* 
lemon juice (optional)
sugar**, to taste

8 oz sourdough bread crumbs
3 oz granulated sugar
2 oz butter

3/4 c. whipping cream
1 oz dark chocolate, shaved or grated

*mill the waste from apple-rosehip jelly after it's finished dripping  OR cook 1/2 lb rosehips with 1-1/2 lb apples in a bit of water with lemon juice until soft, then run through a food mill, then press through a sieve to separate pulp from seeds and skins to yield about 1-1/2 lbs pulp

**or honey, or syrup, or runny jelly from a batch which failed to set (wonder what gave me that idea...) 

Gently heat the apple-rosehip pulp in a heavy-bottomed saucepan, adding sugar to desired sweetness (the heat will help the sugar dissolve).  When gauging how much sugar is enough, taste it, bearing in mind that the crumb layer is quite sweet. So make a wee bit less sweet than you would want if it was on it's own.  You may need to add water if the pulp is very dry.  If you are using a liquid sweetener (like honey, syrup, or failed jelly), you can skip the heating but mix well to incorporate.  If you are boiling apples and rosehips specifically for this recipe, stir in the sugar while the pulp is still hot.  Allow apple-rosehip mixture to cool while you make the other layers.  

Mix the breadcrumbs and sugar together.  Melt the butter in a skillet over medium heat.  Add the crumb mixture to the pan and fry until dark brown and crispy, but not burnt (see photo).  This requires patience.  If you give up too soon, you won't have caramelized breadcrumbs, you'll have butter-toasted crumbs with butter-saturated sugar... which isn't quite right.  While frying the breadcrumbs, stir frequently, adjusting the heat as necessary to prevent burning.  Properly toasting these breadcrumbs takes 30-40 minutes on our nearly-reliable electric stove.  Cool to room temperature.

Before (L) and after (R) for the breadcrumb mixture.  The crumbs are done when they are golden brown and crunchy.

Layer apple-rosehip mixture alternately with crumbs in a glass dish, finishing with a layer of crumbs.  Chill.

Whip cream until stiff peaks form.  Spread over chilled apple/crumb layers and sprinkle with dark chocolate.

~~~

This is a variation on the traditional Peasant Girl with a Veil.  Since Fefe included rosehips in it, and since all the apples were wild-picked, and since even the bread was made with wild-apple-yeast-inoculated sourdough, and since we think that in this day and age we really shouldn't be serving desserts named for peasant girls, we thought it deserved a re-naming.  We considered Pleasant Girl with a Veil, but we couldn't say it without giggling. 

Hedgerows, fields, river flats, forest edges, city parks... you may be surprised at how easily you could come by the major ingredients for this dessert.  Not that we would fault you for using market apples and bread because what's really important about this dessert is that it's frugal.  Don't throw out the stale bread.  Don't compost jelly making waste until you've milled the pulp from it.  Apples going a bit soft because you were overenthusiastic and bought more than you could eat?  Throw 'em in a pot with some water.

We know this is a thrifty recipe because (a) caribougrrl finds it endlessly entertaining whenever Fefe introduces another British*** recipe that uses stale bread as a major ingredient and (b) the back of the note paper where Fefe copied her mother's recipe is a testament to our financial stability the first time we made this (see photo).  That might have been the same week we discovered that dog shampoo leaves human hair with a lovely sheen.

Nonetheless, we remain convinced that everyone deserves a good dessert, no matter how economically creative they need to be (or not).  If you aren't saving stale bread to save money, save it to reduce waste anyway.  

***okay, caribougrrl's sample of British people who cook with stale bread are all from the same family.  And okay, it seems Peasant Girl with a Veil is of Scandinavian origin... and okay, it's not just the Brits and Scandinavians that have a way with stale bread...

Les Pommes de Terre & les Pommes de l'Arbre

In the continuing effort to make good use of the bounty of feral apples, we've made an apple ketchup.  Serendipitously, we've recently found some locally grown blue-right-through potatoes.  A match of epic greatness: blue potato oven fries with spicy apple ketchup.

Blue Potato Oven Fries

4 medium-smallish blue potatoes
2-3 tsp avocado oil*
1 tsp salt

*or use another oil with a high smoke point (like safflower or peanut)

Preheat oven to 450F.

Not just blue-skinned, these lovelies have a beautiful
purple-y-blue flesh as well.

Pour boiling water into a heat proof bowl large enough, but leaving room, for the potatoes.  Wash potatoes, leaving the skin on and cut into french-fry-sized sticks.  Drop the cut potatoes into hot water and let sit until edges are just softened (but not soft).  When the oven has reached temperature, drain potatoes and pat dry with a clean tea towel.  Rinse and dry the bowl (or get out a new one, but why make more dirty dishes than necessary?).  Place the potatoes in the bowl, drizzle with oil, sprinkle with salt and mix until fully covered.

Arrange on a baking tray lined with parchment paper in a single layer.  Turn oven down to 425F and bake for 22 minutes, turning after 12.  Total baking time will depend a bit on how thinly you sliced them, and the particular variety and age of potato used... so rely on your instincts as much as our guidance.  When they are done they will be cooked through and look browned and blistery.  Which is a long way of saying: when done, they will look like french fries.

Feral Apple Ketchup

Adapted from Marguerite Patten's 500 Recipes: Jams Pickles Chutneys


Use the pulp you put aside after making apple jelly:

After making apple jelly, run the contents of the cheesecloth
through a food mill to obtain apple pulp for this recipe.

for each 2 lbs apple pulp:
1 onion, chopped
2 large cloves garlic, chopped
2/3 c. malt vinegar
2-1/2 tbsp cider vinegar
1-1/4 tsp coarse salt
3/4 tsp pickling spice
1 tsp curry powder (the commercial americanized stuff will do, but bonus points for using your own)
1/2 tsp tumeric
1-2 dried hot chili peppers, crushed between fingers to release the seeds (we used gundu chilis, but any dried red chili will probably do)
3 oz. organic cane sugar
2 pint or 4 half-pint jars, sterilized

Put onion, garlic, vinegars, salt and spices into a heavy-bottomed saucepan.  Bring to a boil and cook at a slow boil until onion and garlic are soft.  Stir in apple pulp and return to a boil then remove from heat.

Working in batches, run the mixture through a food mill with the smallest-holed plate (or press through a sieve).  Return to heat and boil slowly until the desired consistency is reached.  Because the pulp has already had most of its liquid drained, it may be done almost as quickly as it reaches a boil.

Pour or ladle into sterilized jars and heat process for 10 minutes at sea level.  If you've made a small batch, skip the heat processing and store in the refrigerator.

~~~

~~~

Lately we have fallen in love with the Adirondack Blue potato variety grown locally at Lester's Farm in St. John's, NL (if you're in the St. John's NL area, they also sell Adirondack Reds which also carry the colour through the flesh).  Admittedly, a good part of that love is superficial and entirely related to the beautiful purple-blue colour, but it's also a good potato: not too starchy, not mealy but not too wet.  We can attest that it's lovely boiled or roasted and it makes some of the best oven fries we've ever done.  That said, the success of the fries depends largely on using a an oil with a high smoke point: these are baked at 425F which is too high for olive or canola oil if that's what you're used to.  Splash out for avocado oil if you can (something too bitter for salad oil, by the way... which surprised us because avocados are delicious raw... but is a fantastic cooking oil).  We bought ours half-price when the nearby chain grocery was clearing it out (the bad news, we can't even buy it full priced there any more).

This whole pairing really started with the feral apples we've I've been picking compulsively.  Fefe Noir has been busy making dried apple rings and using the scraps from the apple rings and the apples too small for drying for making jelly.  Which leaves a great big mass of skins and seeds and stems and pulp.  There's a lot of goodness still in there which we didn't want to waste.  After running it through the food mill, the texture reminds me of extra-thick tamarind paste... so I told Fefe Noir she should make a samosa dipping sauce.  She looked at me.  You know that look? The one when someone's been all day in the kitchen, overheated from canning, then in all the excitement of preserves and jars and steam you innocently come up with a really good idea for more preserves and suggest it?  Oh yes, that's the look she gave me.  So I quietly milled the apples and put them in the freezer. (The remaining skins, seeds and stems fed our composter.)

The next morning, flipping through a recipe book over breakfast, I happened across instructions for apple ketchup.  Simply to prove I wasn't crazy thinking that the apple pulp would make a nice savoury sauce, I wrote a note that said "APPLE KETCHUP, p. 70!" before I left for work.  Instead of trying to convey the phone call I got later that morning, I will assume that you are smart enough to catch my error...

You will be glad to know, however, that I did step up and make some ketchup.  Yes, I got in the way in the kitchen, mucked up plans for an uneventful evening, and created general chaos.  But even Fefe will admit this ketchup was absolutely and completely worth the headache of it's manifestation.  I'm not sure it's the right thing for samosas, but apple ketchup will certainly elevate your french fries, burgers and grilled cheese sandwiches.

A Glut of Feral Apples

Due to caribougrrl's inability to walk past an apple tree without picking some, things have gotten out of hand.  In an attempt to clear the dining table to accommodate some dinner guests tomorrow, Fefe Noir spent some time putting them up.  She thinks this will also reduce the number of little apples the cats liberate and re-purpose as toys.

A small portion of the feral apples littering the house, and the borrowed cute little ancient British apple corer.

Dried Apple Rings

Keep apples handy by washing them in a bowl near your
work area.  Once cored and sliced, drop immediately into
lemon water.

feral apples*, **

juice of one lemon

*the number or weight of apples you need depends on how much room you can make in your oven

** you could use cultivated apples if that's what you can get

Start by digging all your wire cooling racks out of your cupboards and finding baking sheets they can sit on steadily (the little legs are not precariously balanced on rims; the legs either sit properly on the baking sheet or fully overhang it).  Once you've got racks and trays matched up, sort out how many will fit in your oven.

Preheat oven to 150F.

Fill a mixing bowl 3/4 full of water and add the lemon juice.

Make a guess at how many apples it will take to fill the space on your wire racks with round slices.  Wash that many.

Dry the apples one at a time.  Using an apple-corer, core the apples.  If you don't have an apple corer, beg borrow or buy one.  Since feral apples are tiny, Fefe borrowed her mother's ancient British apple-corer which is narrower than the ones generally available for sale in North America these days.

Slice the apples fairly thinly (but most importantly, slice them fairly evenly) into rings.  Drop the rings in the water and keep coring and slicing.  Reserve the cores and uneven ends and apples with bad spots (cut the bad spots out for your compost bin, put the rest of the apple aside with the cores) for making apple jelly (see below).

When you think you have enough, lay them out in a single layer on the wire racks.  If you didn't slice enough, do a few more.  If you sliced too many, put the extra aside with the cores for apple jelly.

Lay out in a single layer on the wire rack.

Dehydrate in oven for 2.5 to 4.5 hours.  Check them once in a while.  If you sliced them thickly, they will take a long time.  If you sliced them very very thinly, you will get apple chips.  Take them out when they are dry and shrunken and the consistency you were aiming for (you will have to bite into one to check).  If your apples are very juicy, they will take longer than if they are dry-ish.

If you are reluctant to give up oven space, or you oven is too small, there is good news:  you can dehydrate apples in your car!  (Provided you live in a sunnier place than Newfoundland)

Feral Apple Jelly

Following Marguerite Patten's 500 Recipes: Jams Pickles Chutneys (yikes!  see if you can borrow it from your local library or find it at a yard sale)

Use the scraps from your dried apple project and top  up
with additional apples as needed for the jelly.

feral apples*, including scraps from apple rings (see above)

water

sugar

*or crabapples, or cultivated apples

Using as many apples as you want to or need to (but a minimum of 2 lbs).  Wash the apples if they've been exposed to pesticides or road side dust or if you will feel better having washed them.  Cut the big ones in half or quarters, leave the tiny ones whole.  

Put the apples into a large saucepan.  Add 1 cup of water per pound of fruit.  Simmer the apples until they are pulpy.  Watch them fairly closely and stir once in a while so you don't burn them.  Fefe's took about an hour but that can change depending on the total volume in the pot, how vigorous a simmer you have, the variety of apple, the growing conditions this year, etc.  So watch them.  So while you are waiting, do things that keep you close to the kitchen... for one thing, set up your jelly bag or muslin or other drip system.

Fefe Noir stole caribougrrl's beside table and
turned it over to set up the cheese cloth for
the jelly drip.

To strain the jelly, Fefe used a double layer of cheesecloth suspended from an upturned side table (see photo) and placed a large mixing bowl underneath.  Once the cheesecloth is securely tied, and the apples are fully cooked, transfer the stewed apple and all the liquid into the strainer by adding one ladle-full at a time. Leave overnight to strain.

Do not squeeze the cheesecloth.  You will be tempted to, because there will be a slightly disappointing amount of precious liquid in the bowl in the morning but do. not. squeeze.  This is jelly, not jam.  Sure, it will only make a little bit, but that's okay because if you have too much you will get tired of it anyway.

Use the liquid for the jelly and run the pulp through a food mill or push it through a sieve to remove skin, seed, stems, etc.  There's a lot of goodness still left in that pulp, so if you won't be needing it immediately (for baked good or desserts, ketchup or other sauce), it can be frozen for a short period until ready for use.  

Measure the liquid and put it in a heavy bottomed saucepan.  Add 1/2 lb sugar for each cup of liquid. Stir to combine and heat to dissolve.  Bring to a rapid boil and watch constantly, boiling until set.  There is a lot of pectin in apple jelly so it will set quickly, keep a cold plate handy for checking the set frequently.  Fefe's took about 10 minutes.  She also suggests that you don't start unloading the dishwasher because if you're distracted, your jelly might boil over or burn and the smoke detector may go off upsetting the dogs and creating mayhem as apple jelly shellac adheres to the surface of your stove.  Hypothetically, that is.

Pour into sterilized jars leaving some air space at the top.  If you are planning to store the jelly, heat process appropriate for your altitude and take the usual precaution of refrigerating any unsealed jars and using quickly.  We're practically at sea level and Fefe Noir processed ours for 10 minutes.

~~~

The Madonna cat is obsessed with the feral apples.   As it turns out, they make great cat toys (so long as you don't mind apples rotting under your sideboard...).

The Fruits of our Labour Day

The end of summer, that time when it feels more like a new year than New Year's does, puts us smack dab at the height of the best foraging of the year.  And if you don't believe me, ask any black bear. 

Clockwise from top left:  Feral apples,  wild blueberries, wild blackberries, feral red currants, wild beaked hazelnuts.  I swear, we only planned to pick blackberries.

We had a great dinner with some old friends recently, and like always with these friends, we had a fantastic time, a fantastic meal, and spent an extraordinary amount of that time talking about food.  I was surprised to find out that one of them carries some pretty big hesitancy around wild foods.  (You know those moments when you remember that not everyone has the same ideas and opinions that you do?  You're surprised but you shouldn't be.  Those moments that remove your philosophical bubble and give you some context of reality.  Yeah, that happened to me.)  She does make exceptions for familiar berries, so when we set out on our Labour Day trip to pick blackberries, we figured we should base a post on them so our friend doesn't think we only eat the dangerous sorts of foraged food.

Blackberries are one of the best trips we make every year, maybe because they aren't as abundant as other berries, it's that much more satisfying getting them.  It took us a couple of years after we moved here, but we did find a good blackberry spot, one you can actually drive up to: but it's never that simple, is it?  See, if you get on the trail a couple of kilometers east, there's a few other good pockets of blackberry along the way.  So we geared up for a slow afternoon of walking the decommissioned rail bed and picking en route.

Throughout Newfoundland, the bed of the decomissioned railway provides a trail network, both formally  and informally.  It's very walkable but if you are using it on foot, be aware that you are sharing it with ATVs, dirt bikes,  and the occassional pickup truck or even car.

So that single-minded mission of blackberry picking?  Well, since we were headed out and about anyway, we decided to start with a detour for a single-stop, quick trip down another section of the railway trail for a particularly special harvest.

Red Currants

We tried to be good citizens and share the feral currants with others, but when no one else harvested any, you betcha we went back for more.

Red currants don't actually grow wild here (skunk currants do, but I don't think we've stumbled on any as yet), but there's this fantastic red currant bush growing on the side of the trail on one of our regular dog-walking routes.  Undoubtedly, it's ended up there by an act of natural dispersal, or by being dumped in the ditch with a load of garden waste.  Every year we worry someone's going to dig it up and transplant it home, but so far that hasn't happened.  We picked a load of the early ripe berries a month ago, leaving a lot of berries behind because we wanted to share with other local walkers and with the birds and beasts, but time went on and no one else seemed to be using them.  And then they became fully ripe and the bush was filled with shiny translucent jewel-like berries, and we couldn't take walking past them anymore, thus, we started our Labour Day black berry trip with a pair of scissors and a colander to catch the berry clusters as they fell.

Blueberries

Right, well, it can't be helped.  As often as I promise Fefe Noir that I won't get sidetracked by blueberries on blackberry day, I just cannot.walk.past.them.  I mean really, could you?

Plump blueberries grow just about everywhere in Newfoundland.  There is nothing better than free berries.

Blueberries are everywhere in Newfoundland.  That might be a small exaggeration, but it's really nearly true.  Not only are they everywhere, but they're big for wild blueberries and they're so thick, the shrubs are weighed down by them.  

Where the trail runs parallel to a river, the river flats are filled
with giant blueberries, rosehips, juniper berries, raspberry
patches and, yes, even blackberries.

Both of us grew up in Ontario and spent summer trips up north ("up north" is a pretty vague place which, depending where you start from, could refer to anywhere in the northern two-thirds to three-quarters of the land surface).  We both have strong recollections of picking blueberries up north... dispatched with a margarine tub or a plastic toy bucket, accompanied by at least one parent and all the siblings, picking these blue treasures into containers that never seemed to fill.  Ku-plink, ku-plank, ku-plunk, just like Sal. The thing is, all hands on deck, sometimes an entire afternoon would produce only enough blueberries for a batch of muffins or pancakes for breakfast the next morning.  So, although Fefe Noir made a show of rolling her eyes at me she did, of course, humour me my compulsion.  In almost no time, we had about a quart of them picked.  Blueberries are Newfoundland's magic.

Blackberries

The wild blackberry is a precious fruit: patchy rather than abundant and soft so requiring careful picking.  But well worth it for that burst of rich acidic sweet flavour.

Despite the distractions, the blackberries were happily waiting exactly where we expected them, and it seems to be a good year.  We moved from patch to patch, scratched and pricked, fingers stained purple from the picking.  Occasionally I was seduced again by some particularly nice patch of blueberries (Fefe is much better at the steady blackberry pick than I am), but we amassed nearly 2 lbs of them, with enough unripe berries left behind to look forward to another harvest this fall.

As we were walking between the first and second blackberry patch, we were talking about Where'd You Go Bernadette, musing about blackberries, erosion, food and weeds, when suddenly Fefe stopped dead in her tracks and slowly lifted her arm to point ahead.

Feral Apples

We have a place we go to later in the fall, when the partridgeberries are ripe, for feral apples.  But a tree hosting these small but round and rosy, scab-free apples cannot be ignored.  Our foraging backpack always has a cloth bag in it for this sort of emergency, so we filled it up before continuing on.  Fefe bit fearlessly into one and pronounced them fit for eating raw.  I took a bite too, but thought maybe it needed some salt to counter the sour.  

(Which is a bit ironic, I suppose, since about half an hour previously we had walked past a grove of pin cherry, beautiful dark red berries.  I know they're edible, but not particularly palatable.  They're very ascerbic.  Anyway, when we were walking by, I'd said, "those are the ascerbic cherries" and promptly picked one and put it in my mouth.  I always think that initial profound taste of cherry will be worth the acid which immediately follows, but I'm wrong.  My mouth dried up immediately and my face stuck into a rigid pucker. I thought I got away with it, since Fefe was walking in front of me but she turned around and looked at me with disbelief.  "Really?" she asked, "did you eat one of those cherries AGAIN this year?")

Beaked Hazelnut

On the trip back to the car, we were a bit more casual about berry picking, mostly enjoying the view, when I suddenly nearly put my foot on one of the most unusual looking seed casings.  As I stopped, foot in mid-air, Fefe was already stood still, arm raised to point at it.  I shouted, "BEAKED HAZEL!" and put down my pack and the bag of apples, plucked the seed casing off the ground and opened it up to reveal a perfect hazelnut shell.  Funny enough, a couple days earlier, Hank Shaw had published a blog post on beaked hazel, which I'd read with deep jealousy since beaked hazel don't grow here.  So I thought.  So it turns out I was wrong.  In eleven years of stomping around the woods and bogs and barrens of Newfoundland, I'd never seen a beaked hazel.

In all of caribougrrl's excitement, she tore apart the first beaked hazel before Fefe Noir had a chance to photograph it, but this is another one found along the side of the trail, likely dropped by blue jay or red squirrel.

It had to have come from reasonably nearby, I figured.  I think I figured that, but perhaps Fefe Noir pointed it out but my mind was already in that single-mission state where I don't hear anything directly... so with complete disregard for anything or anyone else around me, I started to wander, fighting through thick shrubs, trying to remember where we'd seen that bunch of blue jays flitting around like they ruled the world.  Finally I looked up and there it was.  "BINGO!" I yelled.  Then I waited.

"Where are you?" 

"I need that empty bag from the pack!"  

"Hello?"  

Eventually I heard Fefe tell me to keep talking so she could find me... struggling along with all our stuff including 12 lbs of fruit.  Fortunately for you, she photodocumented her trip to find me.

From somewhere on the other side of this thick shrubby stuff, caribougrrl shouted that she found beaked hazel.

Fefe Noir had to ask caribougrrl to keep talking because seeing anything in this is nearly impossible.

Fefe Noir could hear she was getting close but could not spot either caribougrrl or any beaked hazel.

Aha!  There she is behind that beaked hazel tree.

Fefe Noir got distracted by blackberries.

Ironically, right there beside where Fefe left the pack: beaked hazel, trailside.

Funny how sometimes the most exciting part of a foraging trip is the part you never expected.  

The processing seemed to take hours, but our freezer is happier for it.  The hazelnuts are still drying/ripening, and apples are slowly making their way into desserts and mains and preserves.  

~~~

A couple of Feral Apple Desserts

The thing about feral apples is that no matter what variety they started out as, if they aren't pruned and kept, they tend toward a wild-type fruit.  Tart, high in pectin, and small.  Perfect for cooking.

Apple-Blackberry Crumble

Fefe adapted this recipe from a borrowed copy of Catherine Kirkpatrick's 500 Recipes for Budget Meals.

1 lb. apples
1/2 lb. blackberries
about 2 tbsp water
4 oz. brown sugar
3 oz. butter
6 oz. unbleached all purpose flour
3 oz. granulated sugar
1/4 tsp. lemon zest

Pre-heat oven to 350F.

Peel, core and slice apples into a saucepan; add the blackberries, water, brown sugar and lemon zest.  Cook over low heat, covered, until apples are softened but not mushy.  Transfer apple mixture to a greased pie dish.

In a large bowl, rub the butter into the flour to form large crumbs. Add the granulated sugar and mix until just combined; do not over mix.  Sprinkle the crumble mixture over the apples.

Bake until golden brown, about 30 minutes.

Apple-Honey Custard Pie

Fefe made Mollie Katzen's recipe from the Moosewood Cookbook, substituting clover syrup for the honey, skipping the cinnamon and sprinkling pine nuts on top.  If you've never cooked from the Moosewood Cookbook, check it out of the library.