Catching up, sort of

For the record, I really want to write a post about different hops, malts, yeasts, and all the other random cool facts I've been learning lately. But that requires time. Time that I don't seem to have. In the meantime, I'll lean back a little more toward food.

As any regular or occasional reader of this blog knows, I like to push the locavore idea. A lot. But as I will quietly (and guiltily) admit, I am not always great at following my own advice when it comes to sticking to local production and seasonality. In fact, as I look back at what I purchase and cook and consume, I follow the seasonal doctrine far less than it seems like I should. Truth is, I just haven't found the balance between what I want to have around and what is available. And I'm lousy at preserving things for use out of season.

Since market season is kicking in around here, my pledge is this: to the best of my ability, produce that we prepare over the next several months (and perhaps longer) will be grown in season and locally when possible. My inspiration for this has been the kale and carrots I've purchased over the past couple of weeks. They reminded me what it was like to have food that had real flavor and real connection to soil near us. The next impetus was actually working on a friend's farm (more on this in another post); I hope to do this more in coming weeks and have a better appreciation for what connects us to what sustains us. The final push was using a rutabaga in tonight's red curry. It was a last minute whim, and one I'm glad for. The flavor was delicious, and it was nice to take a step or two out of my box. Moreover, it was good to see the kid eat it and enjoy it.

So... if I can be good about it... and find the time amidst work, parenting, trying to start a business, and life in general... stay tuned for a balance between posts about beer and posts about seasonal eating and connections to where and how food is grown in the region. Hell, maybe I'll even get into canning and pickling. If all goes well, this may even connect to how the ingredients for beer can be produced locally. So, yeah... stay tuned.

Cheers!

Locavore fun.

I got a call from a coworker yesterday asking me if I wanted a piece of venison. He'd pulled a back strap (filet) out of the freezer and had a small chunk of it left. Of course I do, I said. Not being a hunter and without a reliable source, I've never had the chance to prepare venison, but it has been on my list.

The piece he gave me was a little over half a pound, and I decided to prep it for dinner last night. Figured I wouldn't tell the kid what she was eating until after dinner. With distractions like homework and letters to Santa, I needn't have worried. She hung out in the kitchen while I prepped the meal.

I'd done some research on preparations and came down to the following: quick marinade in red wine, olive oil, salt, pepper, and sage. Three minutes on each side to brown it with a touch of olive oil in a hot cast-iron skillet. Seven minutes in a 400-degree oven. Transfer to a plate and put the skillet back on the stove for a reduction. Reduce the reserved marinade with extra wine and a splash of balsamic vinegar thrown in. Serve with couscous and snow peas.

The meat came off a perfect medium rare. With a drizzle of sauce, it was tender and lean and just phenomenal. The kid even ate her whole serving and gave it two thumbs up. I decided to compliment it with a wine produced only a few miles from where the deer had been shot — Villa Appalaccia's Toscanello. I've wanted to pair this bottle with venison since I first poured it at a wine festival two years ago, and I'm pleased to say my gut instinct was dead-on. The pairing was phenomenal. The layers of fruit and pepper from the sangiovese/primitivo/cab franc blend complimented the flavors of the meat so that holding both in your mouth produced a brilliant synergy of flavor.

The kicker on the whole thing was getting around to telling the kid what she'd had. "I ate deer?" she asked. When I said yes, she said, "Hunh. It was good." One more foodie-parent victory...

a few notes and a brief cooking note

First, the notes.

Note 1: I began using a chimney this summer to start my grill. I love it, but I haven't gauged the fires properly yet. Between the chimney and the hardwood charcoal (not briquettes!) that I've been using, I get amazingly hot fires. Too hot, really. I've had a devil of a time figuring out timing and heat, as a result.

Note 2: I need to branch out while at the farmers market. I bring home a nice harvest and prepare it well (usually!), but I don't change up my game nearly enough. I don't buy many new ingredients. I don't challenge myself to stretch my wings beyond some of my tried and true preparations. If all goes well, we will take part in a winter CSA, and I will expand my cooking repertoire.

Now a cooking note:

In midsummer, I found myself with locally raised lamb steaks, corn, and peaches. I'd also snagged a loaf of parmaggiano and red pepper bread. The lamb went in with a chili-, sage-, and rosemary-spiked rub. The peaches were drizzled with a good balsamic. The corn was soaked (in husks) in salt water. The bread was sliced and drizzled with good olive oil. We were using my neighbor's gas grill. The corn went on first. It roasted for close to half an hour on the upper rack with a low convection fire. The fire was brought up and the lamb and peaches went on the grill. The peaches were to the side and the lamb spent 4 minutes on either side. The bread went on for the second half. The ingredients were stacked — bread first, lamb second, peach on top. We pulled an arugula salad with shaved parmaggiano on the side and called it dinner.

The flavors mixed beautifully. The lamb was perfectly medium rare and its juices infused the bread. The sweet and caramel of the balsamic-drizzled peaches countered the chili and spice of the other ingredients. With the salad and the corn, the meal was a damn-near perfect explosion of local, summer flavors.

Touring Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden

A little over a month ago, Jonah Holland was kind enough to invite me and Sarah of Roaming Virginia for a private tour of Lewis Ginter Botanical Garden. I brought Buttercup along, figuring it would be a good chance for her to get the inside scoop on one of her favorite places around town.

I'd been in touch with Jonah via Twitter, and we have a slew of mutual friends in Richmond. Given how many of us have kids and are loosely or directly involved in creative professions, sometimes it seems like a little thirty/forty-something parent mafia, all slightly interconnected. In any case, after meeting Jonah, she took us out for our first stop at the community garden.


Ginter received a grant this year to grow 10,000 pounds of vegetables for the local food bank. It was/is an ambitious task driven by volunteer support and community contributions. When we visited, they had already harvested nearly 2,000 pounds of vegetables and received a few hundred more from personal donations — people with gardens more successful than mine.
We had a chance to speak with the associate director, who explained that they'd opted to go with conventional rather than organic methods out of expediency and cost — they'd been offered a substantial supply of mulch. Still, they weren't treating the plants and sought more organic or natural methods of pest control. Regardless, it was clear that the program was proving to be a success — after all, affluence shouldn't determine whether a person can afford fresh, local produce.

Next up was a stop at the Butterflies Live! exhibit. Here Buttercup was able to show off her stellar knowledge of butterflies and moths. There were some truly remarkable specimens, including one with a wingspan of nearly a foot. The butterflies and moths flit freely around, and you're cautioned before entering not to touch them if they happen to land on you. The brilliant part is that you can visit repeatedly and be assured of seeing different varieties of butterflies and moths.

After a bit more wandering around, we landed in the children's garden. Buttercup knows the place well, but it was still a pleasant surprise to come across blackberry bushes bursting with berries and fairy houses. It was a further reminder that it would be grand to see a bigger cross-section of Richmond using and taking advantage of the gardens... butterflies, squash and all.

The Duck

I’d read a slew of different recipes and preparations, and none of them quite struck me. For some reason, smoking the duck seemed like the way to go. I’d been experimenting with smoking in the Weber for over a year now, and this seemed like yet another good test.

Prep started on Sunday night. I rinsed the duck off and patted it dry. In a bowl large enough to accommodate it, I combined sea salt, cracked pepper, and dry green tea leaves. In the cavity I stuffed three lemon halves. Another full lemon was squirted over the duck, and I rubbed the mixture and lemon juice to coat the skin. The bowl was covered and put in the refrigerator over night. I also began a soak of three cups of hickory chips in water and hard cider.

The next evening I fired up the Weber. When the fire was intense and the hardwood was at a searing heat, I added more charcoal (hardwood, not briquets) and then added the drained hickory chips. On the clear half of the grill, I put the drip pan and poured in a quarter bottle of cider vinegar. I put the grill top in place and closed the lid to bring the fire down a notch. (This is the one step I could have let go a little longer to get the heat down to a slower smoke.) After about ten minutes, the duck went on.

I took the liquid left from the duck’s overnight sojourn as a base for the brush sauce. I added about a cup and a half of good red wine, a splash of dijon mustard, a tablespoon of olive oil, more pepper and a couple pinches of sugar. I whisked it together and let stand. Thirty minutes in and at intervals thereafter, I brushed it on the bird.

The skin turned a perfect reddish-brown fairly quickly. At two hours, I decided to pull the duck off. The cavity had a fair amount of liquid in it from the fat and the lemons so I used tongs to pour this off in the drip pan.

The result? Excellent. The skin was perfectly crisped, but the meat was moist and flavorful. The salt, lemon, and tea had combined to balance out the smokiness nicely. Served with cauliflower mashed potatoes and a market salad of arugula, purple cabbage, and radishes, it was a brilliant meal.

There are a few tweaks I’d like to make, but this is definitely one to try again.

weekend round-up, pt. 1 — the market report

The market trip this weekend needed to be abbreviated to accommodate an errand down to The Weekend Brewer in Chester, particularly since we arrived a little later than had been planned. (Non-Buttercup weekends sometimes slip off schedule.) That said, market trips are increasingly hard to abbreviate since the market has become a complete scene. The evolution is not at all surprising, particularly as it grows. What it means, however, is that it is more difficult to get a survey of all the good stuff.

Beyond the social explosion and the lines waiting for Nate's tacos and breakfast burritos, the growing season is bringing all sorts of bounty to the market. Asparagus has given way to squash, and broccoli has given way to cucumbers. There are a whole range of beets, radishes and turnips showing up. We even have a lamb producer added to the meat vendors.

This week's roundup included:

• Arugula


• French Breakfast Radishes


• Cucumbers


• Fennel


• Purple cabbage


• Eggplant


• a duck (!) from Faith Farms

There were a few other random items too, but it's the duck that has me perplexed. I've never cooked one before and plan to smoke it today or tomorrow. Stay tuned...

In coming weeks, I hope to stretch the market report a bit. It will probably take a little more focus and punctuality, however — especially if I want to get there before Blanchard's sells out of whole beans.

market round-up

When we got to the market this weekend, the air was still cool. In the course of an hour, however, the temps shot up. This made poor Buttercup a little wilty since she'd decided the purple velvet dress was proper market garb. It also nailed me a bit since we'd enjoyed a neighbors gathering late into the evening.

As a result, we hit Victory Farms for a nice smattering of lettuce, cucumbers and squash. Asparagus was on tap from one of the other farms — and thankfully we were there early enough to get the nice small shoots. There was a new pound of Yrgacheffe beans from Blanchard's Coffee. There was a chorizo taco from Nate, who makes his own chorizo and so much more. And then that was the point at which the heat and the rest got to me. The cup of coffee I'd bought disappeared and was in none of the places it should have been. Buttercup lost steam — not a good omen on the day of her ballet recitals.

More's the pity since the pickings around the market are really picking up steam. Lettuces are giving way to squashes. More fruit should be coming in soon, and tomatoes and peppers can't be far off. Hopefully, the next market trip will have a little more vigor and a little less yawn behind it.

catching up — the market edition

The market is certainly picking up steam these days. We're up to three goat cheese vendors — 2 dairies producing some interesting varieties and Faith Farms who sells another farm's excellent chevre. In addition to the regular meat producers, a new one had arrived selling bison. Had I not already decided to pick up a fresh chicken, I might have added some bison to the week's purchases, just for kicks and giggles. Greens, broccoli, squash and the tail-end of the asparagus are popping up all over the place. Strawberries are still in — and deliciously sweet — for another week or two. There were plenty of plant vendors and flowers, but I opted not to pick up any since I have just begun to get my garden (now only in containers) in decent shape. The crowds were strong, which was particularly heartening to see on Memorial Day weekend The only problem with such strong crowds, however, was that Blanchard's Coffee was completely sold out of beans by the time I got there. Then again maybe arriving a little earlier than 10:00 might have made the difference...

The other highlight? Our little friend here. And, boy, did the crowd part when he came running out, squealing.

Market report

Thanks to a rather late evening Friday night, I was late getting to the market this weekend. Compound that with having to run back for Buttercup's ballet pictures and the Strawberry Street Festival, and my trip was a bit quicker than I had hoped for. That said, the turnout still seemed excellent. Berries are beginning to come in, as are early season squash. The tastes I had of goat cheese from the dairy that is coming in this year were good, but I'm very spoiled about my goat cheese and haven't fully committed to buying any.

Looking around at the plants, I realized I need to spend some time thinking about the garden this week. The seedlings are a little beaten up after the torrential rains this past week, and given that Buttercup was a little random in her planting, I am not certain what we actually have coming up at the moment. So the goals of the week will be determining what can be salvaged versus what needs to be supplemented with plants and whether we will be able to do the garden bed versus containers.

That rambling aside, here's the quick rundown...

• beautiful lettuces
  
• carrots
  
• asparagus
  
• arugula
  
• strawberries
  
• wheat bread
  

If we make it on time next week, the list should be a little more interesting...

Market wrap-up

Saturday was the opening day for the growers market at Forest Hill Park. The market's formal name is "the South of the James Market" which still strikes me as an unnecessary level of branding for a community market — but we like to give names and brands to things here in Richmond.

Anyway, the market had a stellar opening. Buttercup (aka the kid formerly known as Banana) and I were only able to make for an hour, but it was a busy hour. Vendors like Norwood Cottage and Blanchard's Coffee were already starting to run out of items. Victory Farms and Faith Farms both seemed well-stocked, but knowing our propensity for over-buying I stayed light on the purchases. Pleitez Produce (or whatever they are calling themselves these days) had been bumped from their anchor location at the end to a side stall where they continued to shill out-of-season items like huge grocery-store-ready strawberries for $5/quart and bouquets that were almost certainly not grown in the area.

The plants and other items available were beautiful, and I hope to pick some up to plant next week. We'll have to see what's actually coming up in my initial plantings, however. There were many, many craft vendors back for the season, and I suppose we'll see how the actual mix holds up.

That said, this week's finds included:

• lettuces (several beautiful heads of mixed varieties)
  
• carrots
  
• italian raab, which Buttercup wanted but did not like when she tasted it later
  
• scallions
  
• pork chops
  

I tapped all of the produce for dinner that evening. I recommend sauteing the raab on an extremely hot griddle with scallions and a bit of olive oil and chili. Beautiful!

starting a garden

I haven't really kept a garden since the summer Banana was born, and I was only tangentially responsible for it then. This year, however, I've decided to plant a small garden again. We'll do some containers as well, but I'm shooting for a small raised plot in the backyard. My plan is to put some tomatoes in it, some herbs, and maybe a cucumber or squash or two. Maybe some lettuce, though it's a bit late to get lettuce in. We shall see.

In any case, it's a bit of an adventure, and one that excites me. I enjoy getting closer and closer to my food production. I also enjoy things like the experience of watching Banana plant and care for a garden with me. We started it last weekend, in fact — a start that requires me to figure out what we seeded in which yogurt container. Should be an adventure...

Foodie Fail

One of the things I've enjoyed about living in Richmond is the number of excellent restaurants around town. With recent entries like Stronghill Dining Company and Café Rustica and excellent standbys like Can Can, Edo's Squid, Millie's, and many others, we don't lack for good dining options. My only quibble is that many of these places tend to run on the expensive side. While that neighborhood joint in NYC might have entrees hovering in the mid- to upper-teens, most entrees at these restaurants push the mid-twenties to thirty range. Thankfully, a number of restaurants have introduced small plates on their menus, meaning you can pull together a little more variety in a meal for the same tab as two entrees and a shared salad. The other recent development is the impact of the locavore movement on restaurants, with far more places pushing the farm-to-table model.

It was in this spirit, that we went to Mezzanine last night. Mezzanine is one of the latest entries in the RVA dining scene. The owners took over a space that had been cursed in the past and opened it up to create a pleasant, open space. They also took the local sourcing mission to heart and promised to focus the menu around locally-available ingredients and seasonal preparations. With a reasonably-priced wine list to boot, the place should be a winner.

Should be.

We were given our choice of tables upstairs. Though the space was warm and cozy, the noise levels seemed higher than they should.

Initial quirks aside, we dug into the wine list. It had a nice variety of bottles from $19 to $45+. We asked the waiter about a couple of bottles, and we went with his suggestion of the 2007 Marquee Grenache/Syrah/Mourvedre blend. It was a nice blend with flavors of all the grapes coming through — or rather that was the waiter's rather vague description of it. It was well-rounded and had enough fruit and dryness to balance much of our meal.

When it came to ordering, the waiter explained that they'd recently turned over the menu so he couldn't describe many of the items. This became a theme in our ordering. The menu offered some standard openers — the requisite beet salad, the house green salad with local greens — and a wider array of small plates and entree choices than I would have expected given their goal of sourcing locally.

There was only one strict vegetarian item on the menu — a quinoa in curry with Dave & Dee's oyster mushrooms and grilled bok choi — but L decided to go with the small plate of crab cakes instead. We opted to split the beet salad because beets, microgreens, goat cheese, and blue cheese always seem wonderful. I opted for the butternut squash and lobster bisque and then asked the waiter's recommendation between a small plate of a 5 oz. grass-fed NY Strip with a grilled onion and ginger topping and a stuffed quail over seafood jambalaya. Our waiter's response was to tell me that he hadn't had either but that he had heard more people compliment the steak than the quail. I went with the prevailing "opinion."

The food arrived with amazing speed. While I appreciate this in a lunch joint where I'm getting out for under ten bucks, I worry when the meal will quickly push a hundred bucks if my lobster bisque arrives in literally minutes of ordering. Moreover, shouldn't a bisque in a purportedly high-end restaurant come with a more imaginative side than a package of Premium Saltines? That's the kind of thing I expect from Denny's. But how was the soup? It was okay. L is not a fan of heavy cream, but she agreed it had good flavor. It had the sherry flavor you'd expect from a bisque, but the lobster and butternut squash blended together so as to become indistinguishable. Midway through the bowl, I was also left wondering where the lobster was. Even a few chunks of meat would have been enough to bring the soup from passable to good.

Minutes after the soup arrived, the beet salad arrived. The cold beet salad. So cold, in fact, that it had clearly just come out of the refrigerator. So cold, in fact, that there was almost no flavor to the beets or the goat cheese. When I mentioned it to the waiter, he said that they had assembled it ahead of time and plated it when it was ordered. As for the presentation, the beets were thick with a thin layer of goat cheese between them, a very light helping of microgreens and just a few crumbles of very pedestrian blue cheese mixed with the candied walnuts on the plate.

At this point, I was hoping for redemption. I'd heard so much about the place and still had hope that things would improve.

When my steak arrived, my first thought was that it looked like a small ribeye rather than a NY strip. On top of that, it had the curious grid pattern that some chain restaurants apply to steak to make it appear grilled. The flavor of the meat was good, but the cut was tougher than it should have been. And while it was nicely done inside, the steak itself was not hot at all. It had either been grilled ahead or sat out for a while. At this point, I was hungry enough and had seen enough of the service in the place that I didn't feel like asking them to redo the plate.

L's crab cakes were small, but nicely turned out. The waiter recommended using another plate to eat them since the serving dish didn't provide enough space for cutting without mashing them into the sauce they each sat in. The crab cakes were mostly lump crab meat with very little filler. The sauce balanced the crab flavor nicely, but still at $18 I would have expected more than three very small crab cakes.

In the end, the bill with tip came to $98.14. The meal came to a huge disappointment. I could see all the potential in the dishes and in the other menu items I saw coming out, but there were far too many missteps. All in all, Mezzanine struck me as a restaurant cutting corners and doing the minimum rather than really pushing the envelope. Perhaps it was an off night. Perhaps the nights my friends have been there, the menu was in better shape or the kitchen staff was more attentive to what they were serving. Either way, my next hundred-dollar meal is likely to be some place I am certain will make the meal worth experiencing again.

dinners

My standard for dinner preparation is increasingly being held up to two standards: taste and ease of preparation. Banana crashes too early and I'm too fried after an average day to pull together some of the complicated meals I've tried in the past. Beyond that, I've begun to embrace the power of simplicity. To that note, tonight's dinner.

Center-cut pork chops from Faith Farms, kale and peppers from Victory Farms, and couscous. How many extra ingredients and preparations? As few as possible.



I added a little sea salt and cracked pepper to the pork chops before searing them in butter in the Calphalon Everyday Pan (my best kitchen purchase yet). After they were browned, I added some white wine, and once the pan was deglazed and the wine cooked off, I added a bit of balsamic vinegar. Total ingredients: 6

I briefly steamed the kale and peppers, then poured off the water and added a pat of butter and some salt and tri-color cracked pepper. I would have added a bit of lemon if I had any fresh. Total additional ingredients: 2

The couscous simply had butter and a bit of cracked pepper added. Total additional ingredients: 1

In the end, the meal was remarkably simply and easy-to-prepare. It tasted delicious—even though I omitted garlic for the evening, and was as local and healthy as possible. Banana even asked for seconds.

good stuff

First Saturday in November. Apples. Dads. Kids. And finally, beer.

The apples were courtesy of the Vintage Virginia Apple Harvest Festival in North Garden, south of Charlottesville. And the beer was courtesy of Blue Mountain Brewery.

The owner and brewmaster of Blue Mountain was with Goose Island in Chicago for several years before moving to the South Street Brewery in Charlottesville. He's turned out some really nice beers at Blue Mountain now. Their pale ale is excellent. The kolsch is nice and light. And the nitro porter is excellent. I also enjoyed the growler of aged hefeweizen I brought home. In addition to some nice brews, they have a stellar location looking out to the Blue Ridge and link in nicely to the locavore movement by growing their own hops and serving as much locally produced food as possible on the limited menu.



What I also appreciate, though, is the space they've created. The room is open and inviting, with big windows looking out to the deck. Because it's non-smoking and fairly sedate, it's also a very parent-friendly environment. In fact, it's exactly the kind of place I wish we had here in Richmond: a place where adults and kids can relax, eat, socialize.



My only complaint (and suggestion): Two dollars for a bowl of mini pretzels? Really? Kind of absurd. They should be free. Really.

catching up, pt. 2 — the garden edition

Our garden this summer produced the following:

• limited quantities of two kinds of cherry tomatoes
  
• a healthy basil crop
  
• no parsley
  
• no melons
  
• two peppers which were devoured on the plant
  
• one roma tomato
  
• one oddly shaped, but tasty cucumber

Next year, I'll do a little more planning.

market report

So, there's really nothing unusual to report about this week's Forest Hill Market run. I got many of the usual items... except for a hunk of raw cow's milk cheese from Avery's Branch Farm. Named Sevenwood, it's a very nice hard, washed-rind cheese. The flavor tends more toward sharp and grassy rather than nutty and creamy. A good cheese, but not necessarily a local cheese, I suspect. I don't have firm confirmation on this, but evidence from their web site and other information suggests that they haven't entered the cheesemaking business, just the cheese-selling business. It's unfortunate; after all, the pleasure of buying at the market is buying from a direct connection to the soil on which something was created. Minus that the market simply becomes a bastardization of shopping at a nice grocery store.

Mind you, I'd have no problem if the folks at the dairy readily admitted--the way the Faith Farms people do--that they are not the direct producers of certain products. We'll leave it at that for now.

market report

In the past few weeks, Banana and I have been slower to get going on Saturdays. We've arrived at the market close to 10, almost an hour and a half later than usual. Thankfully, the produce has been so plentiful we've been able to come away with a decent haul. Admittedly, we've missed out on some cuts of meat, shiitakes, raspberries, and some other excellent market purchases of which the supplies are less plentiful. What we have not missed out on are the crowds. The little market that could has become the the monster market. When the decision to start the market was made, the manager of the year-old Byrd House Market put up the money to rent the space out of her own pocket. She should be deservedly proud of her contribution to the community, and it would do the city good to see that a market can succeed—and thrive—without being micromanaged by the powers-that-be.

Now, stepping down off my soapbox, here is the week's haul:

• Sungold tomatoes and peppers from Amy's Organic Garden
  
• Basil and heirloom tomatoes from Victory Farms
  
• Cantalope, cucumbers and corn from two farmers whose names escape me
  
• Peaches—the last 3 at the Saunders Farm stand
  
• Amish Roll Butter and Chicken from Faith Farms
  
• coffee beans from Blanchard's Roasters
  
• Whole wheat bread from Newtowne Cottage
  

For lunch, I made a salad with cukes and tomatoes, garnished with basil. One of the tomatoes I cut up was the one below. It was the only one of its kind among the heirlooms, and now I really wish I'd asked the people at Victory Farms what kind it was. First of all, I'd like to be able to find it again; second, heirlooms have some really remarkable names. Anyone who can identify the variety, please let me know in the comments.

Forest Hill Farmers Market, again

So, this week's haul was a little smaller since Banana will be staying with Banana mére for the week. That said, the purchases included:

• Raspberries, black raspberries, and blackberries (as Chris Vaughn noted, the latter were probably not grown in VA. Bummer.
  
• Green leaf lettuce
  
• Carrots
  
• Baby radishes
  
• Coffee beans
  
• Sunflowers

My apologies to Jesse at Faith Farms for not getting any of the ribs she pulled out of the cooler for us. I had a moment when I realized, wisely, that we wouldn't be able to use any new meat for almost a month.

Forest Hill Farmers Market, again

The market continues to grow. This week, a new farm and a pasta maker arrived. There were, of course, new craft vendors, but I have yet to be drawn to any of the craftspeople.

We're well into the growing season now, with shifts in what is in season, as well as what has been affected by the intense, early heat. Lettuces, strawberries, and asparagus are going out of season. Cucumbers, summer squashes, various berries, carrots and tomatoes are coming in. The success of the market has, however, taken its toll on some of the vendors. Faith Farms, for instance, has found that they can't keep up with demand. They're not unhappy about it, but it has forced them to rethink their business a little bit. It's a good problem to have. And it forces the buyer to be more creative — rather than coming with a set list of items, sometimes you have to cook with what's available.

That said, our market haul this week:

• baby lettuces, probably the last for a little while
  
• scallions
  
• baby carrots — last week's were phenomenal
  
• mixed basket of squash
  
• cucumbers
  
• sunflowers — Banana's treat
  
• locally roasted organic Yergacheffe — Blanchard's is roasting some really nice beans these days, but as a Rostov's regular, I feel like I'm cheating.
  
• a whole chicken — spoiler alert for vegan friends: it was slaughtered yesterday.
  
• raspberries
  
• the first tomatoes of the season
  
• green beans

It's a decent haul. We're still not being as adventuresome as I'd like, but I'm still limited in my cooking time these days. And it's hard to tell what even a foodie 6-year old will eat, sometimes.

catching up on the weekend

Richmond hit record high temperatures this weekend, and at least one of my market finds was among the casualties of the heat. Strawberries at the end of their growing cycles just can't handle any length of time in the ninety-plus degree heat my berries were subjected to. By the time I got them into the refrigerator, the majority of the quart had begun to rot. Thankfully, they were the only casualties. The rest of the market finds included:

• pac choi
  
• arugula
  
• summer squash
  
• small cucumbers — very spicy!
  
• baby carrots — tender and flavorful, a revelation in such a common item; the grower who produced these also grew some remarkable micro-greens
  
• basil
  
• green garlic — lent an unusual spice to a batch of pesto
  
• eggs
  
• goat cheese
  
• sirloin tip steak
  
• flowers — to make up for the bouquet I neglected to get Banana a week ago at her dance recital