Trips Off the Tongue Has Moved

http://tripsoffthetongue.com

This new website is Barbie approved.

Trips Off the Tongue will have a new home website soon.

Excuse my silence.

I appreciate all who are following my food journal. I am in the process of creating a new site specific to my love of baking, sharing and tripping over dogs in the kitchen.

Thanks for your patience. I hope to have the new site ready within the week. It's a steep learning curve for me.

A warm aloha,

pam

A Mary Oliver poem

for how many years have you gone through the house
shutting the windows,
while the rain was still five miles away

and veering, o plum-colored clouds, to the north
away from you

and you did not even know enough
to be sorry,

you were glad
those silver sheets, with the occasional golden staple,

were sweeping on, elsewhere,
violent and electric and uncontrollable--

and will you find yourself finally wanting to forget
all enclosures, including

the enclosure of yourself, o lonely leaf, and will you
dash finally, frantically,

to the windows and haul them open and lean out
to the dark, silvered sky, to everything

that is beyond capture, shouting
i'm here, i'm here! now, now, now, now, now.

– Mary Oliver, "From The Book of Time"  in The Leaf and The Cloud: A Poem

Keep Digging: Beyond Images, a Faux Rhubarb Goat Yogurt Scone

Sometimes the presence of one thing amplifies the absence of another.

In this case, the shadow growing behind each new memory this Mother's Day was the absence of my father. He was my greatest scone-devouring fan, even offering to bankroll a bakery for me when I graduated from college in 1986. Hindsight….

Besides roasting a turkey and baking macaroni and cheese for Sunday's festivities, the wild mountain apple also made two appearances for brunch: as the previously posted lemonade and then as a coffee cake, which I'll post in a few days. Both were big hits. I'm choosing to share a new scone recipe today, in memory of you, Dad. 

Walking around my childhood neighborhood the week my dad died 

I found this ball in the gutter. I read it as a sign he'd arrived safely.

Rubber band bracelets were part of my father's daily attire.  

Moving on.

I can't post a goat on my site without waxing poetic for a moment about my Capricorn father, a goofy and exuberant influence on my love of all-things-kitchen. 

The muskiness of the homemade goat yogurt nuzzles into the heady perfume of the mountain apple with more grace than overt lust.

While I do not eat these apples raw, many do. Their super power for me is in their rhubarbishness. My Nova Scotia Nana made me rhubarb pie every summer when we'd visit her in Halifax. She'd serve it with both blend (half-n-half) and ice-cream. She grew the rhubarb in her garden and also near Grand Lake, where she and Grandpa had a cabin we referred to as "camp."

Faux Rhubarb Goat Yogurt Scone
The original recipe can be viewed here.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees

Notes: I use a food processor, but it’s not mandatory. If you don’t have a processor, work the butter into the dry ingredients until it is the texture of gravel. They will still come out flaky and perfect.

I live in a hot climate so always use frozen butter.

Combine:

3 cups flour

½ cup white sugar

1 tablespoon baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

Add:

¾ cup frozen unsalted butter

Mix until gravelly.

Transfer from the food processor into a large bowl.

Add:

1 cup chopped mountain apple

1/2 cup chopped Madjool dates

1/2 cup golden raisins 

Fold in:

1 to 1 1/2 cups goat yogurt. 

Because I follow Yvette Van Boven's method for making yogurt, it's quite runny compared to store bought. This is the only liquid I use. I add enough to pull the dough together, that's why the measurement is not exact; it all depends on the humidity that day. There should be dry ingredients still visible in the bottom of the mixing bowl. If you are using thicker yogurt, I would add one cup of yogurt and drizzle in enough orange juice to pull the dough together.

Plop spoonfuls of dough on to an ungreased cookie sheet. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar.

Scones bake faster on the black cookie sheet. If using black, bake 18 minutes; if using aluminum, bake 22 minutes.

The Tree That Keeps on Giving: Wild Mountain Apple Lemonade

Bring 31/2 cups water to a boil with 5 cups chopped wild mountain apple, 3 1-inch strips lemon skin, 3/4 cups sugar, 5 sprigs of mint.
Simmer 20 minutes.


Strain.
Press all liquid from fruit with the back of a wooden spoon.
Add a cup of lemon juice.
Serve over ice with soda water to make it bubbly.

This beverage has been approved by Barbie.

She's Never Been an Eater: Mom's Peach Coconut Smoothie

This is the smoothie my mom drinks everyday without complaint. I have to say, "without complaint," because this 120 pound 85 year-old is not a fan of our mostly vegetarian lifestyle. Although she did tell me this week that my quiche was my best effort yet. Thank you eggs, flour, milk and frozen pie crust.
I boost this smoothie with coconut oil to feed mom's brain and for her gut, either Straus Family Creamery Maple yogurt or their peach kefir. I add protein powder for obvious reasons and coconut milk for a healthy fat. This is a case where every item is organic.

Caroline's Peach Coconut Smoothie

1/2 cup coconut milk

1 tablespoon Coconut oil

2-4 tablespoons peach kefir or Maple yogurt

A heaping scoop of protein powder

1 small handful frozen peaches

Barbie. A Triceratops. A Squash. And Quinoa Choyote Cherry Cake

Barbie says, harvest the smallest choyote so you can eat the entire squash -- skin, seeds and all.

Large choyote require peeling

and seeding.

Mom's hands and the cake in a loaf pan.

Much cuter baked in remekins.

The Stuff:

1 cup quinoa

1 cup flour

1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

2 choyote the size of apples, peeled and cut into 1/2 inch cubes

7 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

3/4 cup dark brown organic sugar

3/4 cup cherries

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg 

1 teaspoon ground ginger                                                                                                                                               

The Work: 

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Combine the quinoa with plenty of water and bring to a boil. Cook 10 minutes or until quinoa is tender and the seeds' "tails" (the little white part) are beginning to uncurl. Drain well and set aside.
3. Dip a pastry brush in the melted butter and use it to grease the inside of a 9-inch by 5-inch loaf pan or 10 little white ramekins, which I prefer for their cute factor.
4. Put the remaining melted butter in a large bowl, and mix with brown sugar and cherries until evenly distributed.
5. Add choyote and cooked quinoa and stir to combine.
6. In a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and ginger and nutmeg.
7. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir to evenly combine.
8. Scrape the mixture into the prepared loaf pan or ramekins and bake for 50 minutes if in a loaf pan and 43 minutes if in ramekins, until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean and the top of the cake is golden brown.
9. Let cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then turn out onto a cooling rack. Let cool completely before cutting to help cake maintain its shape.  Serve with homemade whipped cream.

Adapted from Home Made Winter.

Grow your own so you may harvest small.

Try Share -- Kauaians Do It Best

Across the corrugated tin "fence" that separates our yard from Priscilla and Henry's orchard, I receive a 2 x 2 foot box filled with mountain apples. 

The tree she stands beneath is massive; it must top out at 40 feet and is at least 10 across. The blossoms fall in hot pink strands that carpet the soil, in what I imagine, any 6 year-old girl would drool to have on her bedroom floor.

Such a vibrant tree putting out a pretty fruit that's disappointingly bland. This strange fruit is more pear than apple really; the flesh is soft and its shape too, reminds me of a pear. 

Priscilla routinely gives me quantities of whatever is fruiting in her yard. I can't possibly keep up with her generosity, so I try to come up with new ways to hand her a bit of her own harvest back over the fence. 

I've baked with mountain apples in the past, with mediocre results. But this time I'm armed with a new discovery, a book given to me by my husband earlier this month: Home Made Winter, by Yvette Van Boven. I could gush shamelessly about the charm, reliability and genius of this tome, but I'll leave it to you to visit for yourself. 

So far I've followed her guidance on making yogurt, butter, cakes, and now for the mountain apple, her chutney. I replace the apples with mountain apples and the tomatoes with canned tomatoes. I am also a fan of the organic dark brown sugar for its molasses content. The results were fantastic. Chutney is an Indian condiment, but for me it's divine on buttered bread or as my friend Meg advised, a fun addition to her coleslaw. Regardless, it's a wonderful remedy for an abundance of fruit.

In a second batch I made use of the choyote squash; farmers markets are overflowing with them right now. I used equal amounts of each. 

Mountain Apple Chutney

21/4 lb mountain apples or equal amounts choyote and the apple

2 cans of diced tomatoes with juice

2 onions

2 clove garlic

1/2 cup golden raisins

3/4 cup dark brown sugar

1 tablespoon black or yellow mustard seeds 

12 tablespoon hot style curry powder

a grind of nutmeg

2 teaspoon salt

21/2 cups cider vinegar

In a large pot place the diced fruit in 21/2 cups water. Simmer for 25 minutes. Don't allow to dry out. Add a bit more water if necessary. 

Add remaining ingredients. Stir until the sugar is dissolved, then bring to a boil. Lower heat and simmer 3 hours. Stir occasionally.

Spoon the hot chutney into sterilized jars. Makes around 41/2 cups and fills three large jars and one small. Wash double lidded jars in soapy water, rinse and put in a 285 degree oven for 10 minutes. Don't use metal lids, as they react with the acid of the tomato.

Seal and set them upside-down until cool. Yvette suggests waiting a month to eat. I gave away and my impatient friends said they ate immediately and loved it. So there ya go!

Joni-Mitchell-Would-Eat-This Granola – Naturally Sweet Yet Feisty

When I moved into the dorms at Northern Arizona University in Flagstaff, Arizona in 1983, my first roommate dubbed me a “granola” after her survey of the cassettes on my shelf. Jersey girl, Sharon MacKenzie nailed it. I was and still smack of all things hippy. Even my husband ribs me when we pass the rainbow children thumbing it to the North Shore.

“Hey babe, look, there’s your people.”

It’s annoying. And at the risk of cliché I’ll add: You can take the girl out of the tie-dye but you can’t get the tie-dye out of the girl. 

But this isn’t a blog on hippy cultural terms, this is a bona fide recipe for a maple syrup sweetened granola that sings with rustic clarity. Bear with me, I’m smitten.

As much as I love Anahola Granola, and include it in every care package sent to friends on the Mainland, I weary of its sweetness. Then I discovered granola guru, Megan Gordon; a chic in Seattle killing it with her savory granola blends. This recipe is an off-spring of her granola base and 101 instruction she shared with thekitchn.com, where she is a contributing writer. I recommend visiting her site as well. 

I have a hunch I’m not saving money making my own, considering we devour one full recipe in two weeks and I’m baking a new batch before the last jar has even emptied.  

It’s that good.

JMWET Granola

Yield: 6 cups

Set out all of your ingredients.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

Step 1.

Combine:

3 cups oats

½ cup sesame seeds

½ cup pumpkin seeds

½ cup almonds

Step 2.

Combine:

¼ teaspoon cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground cardamom 

¾ teaspoon kosher salt

Stir into oat mixture.

Step 3.

In a separate bowl, combine: 

¼ cup olive oil

¼ cup coconut oil

½ cup maple syrup

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Add to spiced oats, mixing well.

Step 4.

Spread mixture on a parchment lined rimmed cookie sheet. Bake 38 minutes, turning every 15 minutes for even baking. Three minutes before the end of baking add:

1 cup of coconut flakes.

Step 5. 

Dried fruit and roasted nuts go in after baking is through. Once out of the oven add:

1 cup roasted pistachio, chopped

1 cup dry cherries, chopped roughly

Cool, then store in mason jars. It’s so pretty you’ll want to store in glass just so you can admire the toasty beauty.

Since we’re on a hippy tack, here’s a poem about hippy babies I wrote eight years ago while sitting in Kilauea Bakery. 

Day of the Dread

Hippy babies are taking over all the funky cafes. Hippy

babies in their patchouli soaked diapers with their natty 

dread dolls. Hippy babies with their Buddha bellies 

spilling over their hemp diapers; running between your legs 

as you walk across the hard wood floor with caramel rivers 

of coffee rolling from palm to elbow; scalding your 

fingers. Hippy babies bouncing off table legs in striped pants 

and polka-dot shirts with tassels snapping in their wake. One hippy 

baby shows up and a commune of organic scone-flinging babies is sure 

to follow. As the floor blooms with all-natural crumbs, the hippy 

babies divine spirits from soymilk stains on the tables. Hippy 

babies swing from the philodendra vines, laughing too loud and smiling 

at all the seated babies with napkins tucked in their shirts. Hippy 

babies drooling 100% organic cookie drool down Bob Marley 

T-shirts that cost a dime at the Hippy Baby Boutique. Hippy 

babies chanting with bodhi beads and bangles around emaciated

wrists, playing ukuleles and drowning out Greg Brown and Natalie 

Merchant in their ganga-stained hippy-baby voices. We ask them

politely, please sit, please clean up after yourself. The hippy 

babies won’t have any of it. Who are we to infringe upon their freedom?  

Baby food For Grown-ups – Thai Green Risotto

Cardamom pods and their dusky inhabitants.

Triple happiness: garlic, ginger and The Heat

Lemon grass: olfactory bliss.

Green onion, earth's own sparklers.

Soupy goodness.

Breakfast is served; baby food for grown-ups

8:20 a.m. I return from a dog walk hungry. 

You know a dish is comforting when you can lift the lid from the pan still sitting on the stove top from last night’s dinner, spoon it into your mouth, and sigh. 

This green curry began as a recipe from 101cookbooks.com where it was called a “porridge,” and rightly so, it has all the trappings of a fairy tail that ends with a nap. 

Nine days ago my 85 year-old mother moved in with us. I’m exhausted. Being her caregiver means assuming the physical body of another person: fetching, bending, lifting, wiping and the inevitable cheer leading, required to buoy the spirit. And my feet hurt. In a very unHawaii-like fashion, I’ve taken to wearing shoes indoors due to the dozen dead lifts performed each time I move her from point A to point B.

This green curry is pure comfort; as nurturing as a warm bowl of polenta fresh off the fire or a chocolate chip cookie still all melty and messy. It really was exactly what I needed Sunday night; and apparently this morning too.

Even my mom ate it. A person I consider the very opposite of a “foodie.” As long as I can remember, this little woman has been on diets. As long as I can remember, she’s lived on cottage cheese, butter Buds (a god-only-knows-what, butter substitute) and egg white biscuits. 

My husband and I love ethnic foods bursting with heat and flavor. Mom’s intolerance for big flavors naturally influences our usual daring menu. The coconut cream, cilantro and spinach base of the curry, combined with the sweet meat of a yam, worked to satisfy everyone. In fact, my mother has never liked rice. And yet, she wasn’t able to identify the brown rice so saturated with sauce it was reminiscent of a risotto, thus the new name.

Thai Green Risotto

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

1 tablespoons fresh lemongrass, minced

3 cloves garlic, minced

6 kefir lime leaves

1 teaspoon ground cardamom

1 ¾ cups uncooked brown rice

5 cups water

2 teaspoons kosher salt

1 14-ounce can full-fat coconut milk

1 tablespoon minced ginger, peeled

2 Hawaiian peppers, more for extra heat

1 cup cilantro

½ cup green onion tops

1 cup frozen spinach, thawed

2 yams, boiled whole and peeled
Cilantro for garnishing

Warm olive oil in a deep pan, add kefir lime leaves, coriander and rice. Stir constantly until rice is toasty and fragrant, 7 minutes. Add the water. Stir in a teaspoon of salt and allow to simmer gently, stirring occasionally, for 25 to 35 minutes or until many of the grains have burst.

Bring a pot of water to a boil. Simmer whole yams for 12 minutes until al dente, peel and cut into bite-size chunks.

While the rice simmers, combine coconut milk, lemongrass, ginger, chile, cilantro, garlic, green onion tops, spinach and a teaspoon of salt in a blender. Blend into a smooth sauce. I chose to reserve ¼ cup of this yummy sauce to have on hand for another dish later in the week. 

Add the green sauce and yam to the rice soup and simmer for 15 to 20 minutes. I add one cup of stock at this point because I like it soupy, but that is preferential. Up to you.

Serve in bowls garnished with cilantro and green onion or just stand by the stove and eat directly from the pan in the morning. 

Is That a Banana? What's a Girl to Do With a Huge Rack

A Banana Blossom

The Extraction

My Mule

Dehydrated Bananas

Brushed with Chocolate

And Sprinkled with Macadamia and Coconut

Nana's Cookbooks -- Mrs. R. Forster's Meatloaf

The day before my mom arrived to live with us, I discovered three of her mum's cookbooks in zip lock bags wedged between cookbooks on my kitchen shelf. I completely forgot I had them.

When a sister and I emptied our childhood home five years ago, they were one of the few things I brought home to Kauai. The cookbooks are from the Imperial Order of the Daughters of the Empire, Evangeline Chapter, Halifax Nova Scotia. Those are the words on the yellowed cover.

Hundreds of tiny paragraphs describe everything from Fairy Fluff to Meatloaf. For my mother's first meal, I made a meatloaf contributed to the cookbook by a "Mrs. R. Forster." Yes, the vegetarian household took a radical turn, and yum, it was delicious, and no, Wes did not partake.




Here's the recipe exactly as Mrs. R. Forster wrote it. I clarify some points at the end of the recipe instructions.

1/2 pound sausage meat
2 lbs. round steak ground
1 egg lightly beaten
1 can condensed tomato soup
1/2 cup minced onion
2 cups soft breadcrumbs
1/4 cup water
1 1/2 salt, pepper
2 tblsp. poultry seasoning
Turn into a greased loaf pan, and bake in a pan of warm water in a hot oven for 1 hour.

I used organic ground beef from Costco and the ground pork from Cost-U-Less. I didn't have canned tomato soup. I used half a can of tomato paste. My mom says a "hot" oven is 375 degrees. I reduced cooking time to 48 minutes because I prefer meat undercooked a bit. This is a rock solid recipe that made really good sandwiches for the following week.

Enjoy! We did.

One Confession, One Digression, a Haiku and Soursop Coconut Scones

Scones are my super power. 

And with great power comes great responsibility. For one, a person with a super power should use it only for good. So my wielding It as a bribe for doing good in the world of non-profit organizations is justified, right? 

The confession: Take for instance the two years I worked as volunteer coordinator for Kauai Humane Society. Record numbers of volunteers would turn out for mailings if I sweetened the deal with fresh baked scones. 

Proof positive, there are too few bakers in the world, so a flaky pastry warm out of the oven is a much coveted thing. 

In 1985, at Macy’s European Coffee House in Flagstaff, I trained to be an early morning baker with a hippy chic named Sue Bug. Sue was the only employee with a “bug” at the end of her name, the rest of us answered to “bob,” as in Tim Bob, the owner and Lynn Bob, the manager. Friends I still know from that time refer to it as the Macy’s “Bob” era.

It wasn’t long before other people began to notice how my scones were different from those made from the same recipe. At Macy’s in the 80s we measured dry ingredients in giant metallic scoops and our spices, by the handful: x scoops of flour and sugar to x handfuls of cinnamon, cardamom, all spice or what-have-you. 

Another baker working there at the time explained the excellence of my scones according to karma: “You had a grandmother who baked scones for you in a past life.” 

I don’t know about karma or if the size of my hands happened to be the best size for measuring dry ingredients. What I do know is when Sue Bug trained me, she emphasized texture and appearance of the dry ingredients as I added liquid at the end of preparation. This is why the following recipe has no exact measurement for the soursop juice. Because of the humidity of our tropical climate, I can’t count on an exact measure. I begin with a scant ¾ cup of juice and drizzle in according to texture from there.

This is not the Macy’s recipe. The original recipe came from Julia Smith, a lovely Westside kupuna who has since passed, so I’m unable to trace its roots. I’ve been tweaking this recipe for 10 years so feel pretty safe calling it my own. 

At the Café 

Crossed legs, chin on fist

Her gaze studies vacant air

Words collect like dew 

Digression

Location: Sitting at a window in Ha Coffee Bar in Lihue, I sigh with contentment. In five days my 85 year-old mom moves back in with my husband and I. To my left is my friend Lois Ann working on a paper for her teaching program and across from her is Kim, writing a post for her blog. I’ve been writing with these two women for 8 years. Ours is a friendship that grew from our love of story and matured into a hui of respect and mutual support seasoned with laughter. This writing life would be so lonely without them.

Back to the recipe:

I begin with a base that evolves into either date/cherry, date/cranberry, mango/coconut, carrot/walnut and most recently, this soursop/coconut version. I change sugar types according to the texture I seek, and introduce wheat or rice flours on occasion. This recipe is amenable to many types of fresh or dry fruit. Just add fruit to dry ingredients and feel free to switch the liquid according to taste. I use either buttermilk, orange juice or soursop juice. I always prefer something grown close to home and the soursop is 30 feet from my kitchen door. 

Soursop Coconut Scones

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees

Notes: I use a food processor, but it’s not mandatory. If you don’t have a processor, work the butter into the dry ingredients until it is the texture of gravel. They will still come out flaky and perfect.

I live in a hot climate so always use frozen butter.

Combine:

3 cups flour

½ cup white sugar

1 Tbl. baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon salt

Add:

¾ cup frozen unsalted butter

Mix until gravelly.

Transfer from the food processor into a large bowl.

Add:

¾ cup coconut flakes. I prefer the wider ribbons vs. the thin shredded style

2 cups chopped Madjool dates

Add:

½ cup sour cream. Mix in lightly.

Add a scant 3/4 cup liquid, in this case soursop juice. Only add enough to pull dough together. There should be dry ingredients still visible in the dough. Plop spoonfuls of dough on to an ungreased cookie sheet. Sprinkle with cinnamon sugar.

Scones bake faster on the black cookie sheet. If using black, bake 18 minutes; if using aluminum, bake 22 minutes.

Another Ode to Mother Nature’s Condiment -- The Sunflower Seed

Macy’s European Coffee House in Flagstaff, Arizona is where I cut my teeth in a commercial kitchen. The word “commercial” hardly captures the glow of this funky café and eatery on Beaver Street just blocks from Northern Arizona University, where I went to school.

Macy’s is where I fell in love with the kitchen as an entity; a magical environ where cinnamon, folk music and hippy women ruled. Filling three-quarters of the kitchen was the bakers’ table – a waist high stage where mounds of dough were tossed on a floured surface and coaxed, twirled and stretched into sugary danish, scones and bagels. 

The joy of working with dough on a wide surface, where the body can gain leverage with ease, makes the average home kitchen an annoying space in which to bake. That aside, Macy’s is where I met myself as the woman I would grow into with age. I couldn’t know this at the time, but it is in the kitchen where I commune with the best parts of myself. 

Macy’s was primarily espresso drinks and vegetarian meals. The sandwiches, soups and salads were simple and everything was made fresh. We tossed tamari sunflower seeds on green salads, and today, my own kitchen is rarely without them.Where sprouts offer a fresh, bright crunch, these have a  totally different mouth feel and flavor. 

Here’s how you make them:

Pour a pile of say 2 cups raw seeds into the center of a rimmed cookie sheet. Drizzle with 1-2 tablespoons tamari or shoyu sauce. Spread in an evenish layer on the sheet. Bake in a 350 degree oven for 7 minutes. Cool and scrape from sheet to pour into your container of choice. There is always a jar of these toasty, brown darlings on our counter top.

Yes they can be bought on Kauai for around $10/pound at Papayas, or $7/pound at Hoku Foods, but that’s pretty pricey and they are so quick and easy to make.

Enjoy!

When it comes to these green gems, bigger isn't better -- Choyote Squash Tacos

A missing onion for one of my standard taco fillings led to a nice alteration. This simple combination of sauteed choyote squash and eggplant worked well in a corn tortilla piled with sunflower sprouts from farmers market, and these pickled red onions from Mollie Katzen’s Moosewood Cookbook. 

A prolific vine of choyote squash grew wild in my backyard for nearly a decade, then suddenly disappeared. Luckily I see them at farmer’s markets regularly; with one cautionary note regarding the size available there. There is a trick to choosing and preparing them: eat the babies, avoid the adults. Baby choyote should fit in your palm. They are simple to prepare since the entire squash is edible. You can eat the skin of the young squash and the seed too.  

The adult fruit, on the other hand, requires peeling and seeding, which doesn’t sound hard to do, right? Well, there’s a sticky substance between the meat and the skin. The glue gets all over my fingers and doesn’t wash off without serious scrubbing. It’s pretty annoying. In the adult squash the seed has hardened, so you must slice around the pear-shaped seed. The flavor of the larger fruit tastes the same, it’s just more work.

Choyote Eggplant Tacos

3 Tbl. olive oil

4 small diced Japanese eggplant

2 small diced choyote squash with skin and seed

1 tsp. each of chili powder, oregano and cumin (Optional)

Salt to taste

Corn Tortillas

Sunflower sprouts

Molly Kazen's pickled red onion

Heat oil,  then sauté eggplant 4 to 5 minutes until tender. Add choyote and continue to sauté 2 to 3 more minutes. Choyote are naturally sweet, so don't over cook. They have such a nice crunch when al dente. Also, eggplant and choyote are such a complimentary pairing, if you're looking for a neutral palette, they really don't need the spices.

It's time for something green that is totally unIrish -- Salsa Verde

My dog walking buddy, Meg, dropped in for a soursop margarita last weekend. As an impromptu snack I whipped up a salsa verde in under 5 minutes. The brilliant color alone makes an impression. Besides, it’s yumalicious.

When it comes to red salsa, I always simmer it on the stove top in lieu of serving as salsa fresca because those raw onions give me dragon breath. But for a zesty tomatillo salsa that is pure freshness in the mouth and easy to assemble, all you need is a knife, cutting board and food processor or blender.

I can practically drink it. In fact, I bet is would mix well with vodka. Why not? Think Irish Bloody Mary. I’ll let you know.

These tomatillos came from Costuless, but there was a farmer selling tomatillo last summer at the Wednesday Kapaa Farmer’s Market. As much as I love to cruise the tables loaded with local produce, I rarely attend the Kapaa market anymore even though it's barely three miles from home; the 3 p.m. market set on black asphalt and timed to collide with the middle school traffic has lost its shine. 

I order most my produce from John and Nandanie Wooten. I call the order in by 9 am. Monday, Tuesday or Thursday, then pick up at 3 p.m. from their Anahola farm. Their number is 823-6807.

Salsa Verde

In a blender of food processor blitz:

10 tomatillos quartered

3 cloves chopped garlic

4 leaves of kale, Swiss Chard or lettuce

1 handful chopped cilantro

2 jalapenos, sometimes I use fresh and other times the pickled canned ones.

3 green onion

½ cup water

1 pasilla pepper, I roast the pasilla on a gas flame, peel and seed.

1 tsp. salt

Enjoy.