The bluebird of happiness has landed on this fig. I’m not sure who Vern is, but after taking a couple of bites out of his namesake, I’d had to say, “Thank you, thank you very much.”  (That was my Elvis voice.) The fig is a syrupy sweet bon bon of deliciousness, almost jam-like in its center. The skin is thin and beautifully mottled green and brownish purple.

My Vern’s Brown Turkey fig tree is relatively young and in a pot. I’m still figuring out just where to plant the tree to foil the deer militia posted in my woods. They have a serious appetite for leafy greens. I live in Zone 8, and this fig tree looks promising. 

Other figs I grow, photos and info:

• Negronne Fig (a.k.a. Violette du Bordeaux) 
• Dessert King Fig 
• Peter’s Honey Fig
• Bayernfeige Violetta Fig 
• How to tell when a fig is ripe and ready for picking

Whether praising peaches, exalting raspberries or ogling apricots, I’d have to say I gush over seasonal fruit. What I don’t grow well (and that’s a big category this year), I try to buy locally. I just received a box of fruit from the Washington Sate Fruit Commission, a cardboard treasure chest layered with summer’s finest jewels: peaches, plums, and Italian prunes.  (Told you I gush.)

Inspired by a visit to Sweet Preservation and pressured by the waning days of summer and the said box before me, I knew it was time to jar up some sunshine for my winter reserves. Such variety and bounty called for making a favorite: Late Summer Chutney.

First of all, what the heck is chutney?  To quote the dictionary, it’s a relish of East Indian origin, often compounded of both sweet and sour ingredients, as fruits and herbs, with spices and other seasoning. Me, I define it as a fruity condiment your pantry (and plate) should not be without.

Notes: Chutney is one of the easiest preserves to make, you basically, wash, chop, add, stir, wait, cook, and can. I love chutney as an accompaniment to meats and cheeses, on sandwiches, tossed in salads or naked by the spoonful (naked referring to the chutney). And as with most of my cooking, there’s a lot of room for improvisation. Mix and match fruit, add more of what you like and less of what you don’t (though I would stick to the vinegar and sugar proportions).

RECIPE: Late Summer Chutney

Ingredients:

• 1 pound apples
• 1 pound peaches
• 1 pound pears
• 1 pound plums/prunes
• 2 onions
• 1.5 cups of golden raisins
• 1 orange: zest and juice
• 2 cups of cider vinegar
• 2 cups brown sugar
• spices
  • 2 teaspoons mustard seeds
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
  • 1/2 teaspoon cardamon
  • 1 teaspoon chili flakes (Like heat?  Add more.)
  • 1 teaspoon cinnamon
  • 2 inches grated fresh ginger
  • pinch of salt
  • grind or two of black pepper

Preparation:

1. Mince onions, add to pot, cook on low until translucent or caramelized.
2. Core and remove seeds
3. Chop fruit into uniform bite sizes, add to pot, stir.
4. Add all of the remaining ingredients and stir.
5. Bring up temperature, stirring to dissolve sugar and blend thoroughly
6. When combined, turn off heat and let it cool, stir, and refrigerate overnight
7. Next day, simmer until fruit is tender but still holding shape and mixture thickens, about 15-20 minutes.
8. Place in jars, leaving half inch head space, press down chutney with spoon to remove air bubbles
9. Lid, and seal in hot water bath. I usually seal for 10 minutes.

I peel the apples and pears, but not the stone fruit.  Peach and plum skins are relatively tender, plus they turn the chutney a beautiful red color.

Right: The heated chutney before being cooled and placed in the fridge.  Left: Overnight the fruit gets a little pickled (who doesn’t), firms up and takes on a new color.   

I used to cook chutney to death, like a lumpy pastier version of Major Grey’s chutney. Not so any more, I simmer the fruit until all of the ingredients are incorporated and standing liquids have mostly evaporated. This makes for a fresher tasting, crunchier chutney–part side dish, part condiment, all delicious.

The finished product is summer in a jar, a jar you can open at will. Make a batch and capture some sun; you’ll need it this January.

Chutney love indeed indeed; Boz pining for peaches, hankering for apples and letting me know about it.

Fig in a blanket: sweet, savory, earthy, and easy to make

As a blogging goes, I try not to repeat myself. (If only I could apply this to real life.) While no one likes reruns, remakes are another story.   So if you’ll indulge me, I’d like to request a mulligan, a recipe do-over.

I first wrote about my Cheesy Fig Bombs in 2008. With a new crop of figs before me and some experience behind me, the recipe deserves a re-visit and surely some better photography.

Homegrown figs: Negronne (Violette du Bordeaux) Fig and Dessert King Fig

RECIPE: Figs in a Blanket

Figs stuffed with goat cheese, wrapped in bacon

Ingredients:

• Fresh figs
• goat cheese, chevre
• thin-sliced bacon

Preparation:

1. Trim fig’s stem (remove any woody part)
2. Slice fig in half
3. Place a dollop of goat cheese on sliced side of fig
4. Gently press cheese into fig
5. Place figs on baking sheet or ovenproof pan

Preparation, cont’d:

1. Cut a bacon strip in half.
2. Place bacon over cheese and fig.
3. Trim bacon so it overhangs fig.
4. Bacon shrinks, so it should touch cooking surface, like an oversized blanket.

 Preparation, cont’d:

• Set oven to broil setting.
• Place figs two rack levels below broiler.
  • You want a slow broil
• Broil about 10 minutes, keep an eye on them throughout.
• Bacon will shrink, crisp up a bit, and encapsulate the fig.
• Goat cheese will melt and the fig will carmelize a bit.
• Remove when bacon is half chewy, half crispy. (See first photo.)
• Let cool to touch before eating
• Devour at will.

As you can see from the response above, this recipe is a crowd pleaser–disappearing within minutes of leaving the oven.

Related: Fig trees I grow, photos and updates

• Bayernfeige Violetta Fig
• Dessert King Fig
• Negronne (a.k.a.Violette du Bordeaux) Fig
• Peter’s Honey Fig
• How to tell when a fig is ripe.

With buckets of blackberries dotting my counter, I was telling a friend that I should blog about How to Freeze Berries. Arched eyebrow notwithstanding, and a facial expression reserved for super lame ideas, he said, “Really, Tom? It’s not as if it’s rocket science. Perhaps, you could follow up with a post on How to Boil Water.” (No berry crisp in his future.)

“So you’d think, ” I said, but after witnessing some freezers filled with zip-loc blocks of berry sludge, I knew my peeps needed help. And so here it is: How to Freeze Berries. Sure, it’s not rocket science, but the results can still transport you to another world.

 Blackberries, raspberries, loganberries, marionberries, boysenberries, blueberries: Bring ‘em on!

How to Freeze Berries

1. Roll berries out in a single layer on a baking tray with rim.
2. I don’t wash them; makes them mushy and they stick to the tray.
3. Remove any creepy crawlers, dandelion seeds, errant grass clippings, or scary-looking  berries.
4. Place tray in freezer until frozen solid.

Part Two: (See, it is like rocket science)

1. Remove tray from freezer.
2. Berries will be a hard and as mobile as marbles (thus the rimmed baking tray)
3. Scoop up the berries and place in zip-loc bag.
4. Seal bag (but first remove as much air as possible).
5. Pop bag in the freezer.
6. Remove when you need a cup or two or three of berries.
7. Reseal and return remaining berries to freezer.
8. They keep for a year or until next season’s crop (as if they’d be around that long). 

Why do I freeze berries?  Blackberry pie on demand dear friends, blackberry pie on demand.

Yesterday, I stood on my porch grousing about the legions of dandelions encamped on my lawn. Hours later, my goddaughter Isabel stood among them, delighting in their presence.  Where I saw weeds, she saw limitless bouquets.  Where I decried a villain, she beheld a beauty. Sometimes all you need is a bouquet of perspective to transform the irksome into the acceptable (but I’m still getting out the mower), and truthfully, sometimes the road to wisdom is a longer route for some of us. 

Front porch sages Boz and Gracie provided further insight,  advising it’s a better day for napping than mowing anyway ( a truth I can readily subscribe to). 

What I was blogging about one year ago: Peter’s Honey Fig: My New Favorite

Summer is a powerful elixir for most Seattleites. We drink in summer (i.e., July and August) like a tonic that cures the ailments brought on by the previous ten months. We cling to it. We exhaust it. We mourn its loss and revel in its memory. 

On one such summer evening, I was enjoying a barbeque with friends in my old neighborhood Green Lake. Hosts John and Beth had assembled us on the front porch of their handsome Victorian for the fine sunset and apparently a little more.

John appointed Becky as our front porch croupier, securing post-its, pens and pocket-change bets. As the sun finally retired to the west side of the Olympics, the show began. John directed all eyes to the chimney across the street. One by one, diminutive creatures squeezed out of a hole in the mortar and took rapid flight in our direction. The crowd cheered, and the counting began. The person coming closest to guessing the number of flying chimney sweeps claims  the kitty. The final tally was 21 bats, so my guess of 19 bats was enough to secure the win.

This fall or winter or spring, when the smell of wet wool and damp dogs consumes my truck cab and psyche, and the windows are too fogged up to see if the ferry has docked, loaded or left,  I shall revisit the memory of this summer night, a summer night when the winnings exceeded the sum of the wagers. Thank you, John and Beth. (And next summer, same bat time, same bat station?)   

Boz assures me, no bats at our house.

My culinary redemption is complete. As some of you may recall, my last attempt to make ketchup did not end so well; my kitchen looked like Freddy Krueger had stopped by for lunch.  (Witness the tomato carnage in How Not to Make Ketchup.)

The good news is confidence has been restored and validated.  My homemade ketchup recently placed first in the Savory category of the Vashon-Maury Island Heritage Museum’s annual Strawberry Festival Jam Contest. Yep, there’s a shiny wide blue ribbon pinned to my kitchen door jam, after being told wearing it as a lapel pin was not a good look. (Runners-up can be a bitter lot).

When asked if I would share the recipe, I replied, “Heck, yes.” No one should hoard recipes, and besides the beauty of making ketchup is the end result is always different, revealing the tastes of the maker one spice at a time.

And to my Northwest garden pals, relax; the following tomato photos are from 2009. My current tomato harvest would barely fill a thimble with gazpacho.

To make a richer more deeply flavored ketchup, I roast garlic, tomatoes, peppers, and onions.

Boz oversees quality control and is quick to point out that ketchup is no apple butter. (Duly noted, Boz.) 

Vindication can be as delicious as a well made batch of ketchup.  (The red ribbon is my second place showing for peach-bourbon jam.)

Behind every blue ribbon is a path paved with tomato sauce and kitchen mishaps.

It’s Easy to Make Great Ketchup

I want to emphasize how forgiving this ketchup recipe is; add a little more of what you like and/or a little less of what you don’t. Don’t bother peeling tomatoes; it’s a big old waste of time. I use a mixture of paste, slicing and cherry tomatoes, basically whatever is coming out of my garden at the time. I usually make ketchup in September when I’m tripping over tomatoes and flush with jars. Another tip: because it’s a rich ketchup, I use pint jars. Quart jars scream commodity; this is anything but.

RECIPE: Tall Clover Ketchup

 Ingredients:

• 10 pounds tomatoes
• 3-4 sweet bell peppers
• 4 onions
• 2-3 heads of garlic
• drizzle of olive oil
• 1 cup cider vinegar
• 1 cup balsamic vinegar
• 1/2 cup white sugar
• 1/2 cup brown sugar
• 2 teaspoons kosher or sea salt
• 2 teaspoons ground pepper
• 1 teaspoon nutmeg
• 1 teaspoon celery seeds
• 1 tablespoon of fresh grated ginger
• 1 teaspoon of ground cloves
• 1 tablespoon mustard powder
• dash or two of Worcestershire sauce

Preparation:

1. Quarter tomatoes, onions and peppers
2. Leave garlic heads whole but cut tips off to expose fresh garlic
3. Place veggies on baking sheets, drizzle lightly with olive oil
4. Roast tomatoes, peppers, garlic and onions at 400 degrees F
5. Remove from oven when ingredients become pasty and lightly carmelized
6. Peel roasted peppers
7. Remove garlic and onion skins
8. No need to peel tomatoes (a little texture is good)
9. Place roasted veggies in large non-reactive pan
10. Add all remaining ingredients, mix well
11. Simmer very very slowly, watching at all times (trust me on this)
12. After about 15 minutes on  low simmer, turn off heat, add a lid and let it rest until cool
13. When cool, puree in the pan or in a blender. I use an Immersion Hand Blender right in the pan.
14. It will be chunkier than storebought ketchup
15. Return to heat and simmer slowly, always watching.
16. I turn the heat off after 15 minutes and let it evaporate
17. Repeat step 15 and 16 until ketchup is as thick as you like
18. Seal, process in a water bath for 15 minutes (using pints)
19. It also freezes well.

Makes about 8 pints depending on how meaty your tomatoes are.

Blue-ribbon redemption for these tomatoes and this humble (most of the time) cook.

What I was blogging about:

• one year ago:  Boz the Bulldog: Fine Art’s New Poster Boy
• two years ago: Build a Wattle for Your Pole Beans

This apricot jam recipe is golden on all levels, a mixture of simple ingredients creating a whole greater than the sum of its parts.  As my favorite jam, it’s a dollop of sunshine I can count on any time of the year.

I have given up trying to grow apricots in the Maritime Northwest (my first public admission). They’re fussy little trees that are beacons to any imaginable plant or insect problem nature can dispense, blooming well before pollinators appear, succumbing to peach borers and rotting at the roots where standing water prevails. 

Don’t think I’ve tried; I could make a log cabin in dead apricot trees. Nope, this boy has seen the light.  Apricot Eden is only two hours east of the Cascade Mountains, and they deliver. 

Introducing Alsatian Apricot Jam

This apricot jam comes from the Alsace region of  France, which borders Germany and Switzerland, a culinary destination known for unapologetically rich food and good wine. The recipe does not disappoint, transforming fresh and dried apricots, wine, vanilla and orange zest into a lavish spread of sensory overload. (Hyperpole? I think not.) 

RECIPE: Alsatian Apricot Jam

Adapted from Mes Confitures: The Jams and Jellies of Christine Ferber

Ingredients:

• 3 pounds fresh apricots
• 12 ounces dried apricots
• 4 cups sugar
• Juice of 1 lime
• Juice of 1 orange
• Zest of 1 orange
• 2 Vanilla beans
• 10 ounces of Gewurztraminer wine

Preparation:

1. Chop dried apricots, place in bowl, add Gewurztraminer (you want a fruity wine), soak overnight
2. Quarter fresh apricots, remove seeds
   1. In nonreactive pan, add fresh apricots, sugar, orange zest/juice, lime juice and vanilla
   2. Simmer about 10 minutes, mixing all ingredients together until sugar dissolves
   3. Remove from heat, cover, refrigerate overnight
3. Next day, add dried apricot mixture to fresh apricot mixture
4. Stirring, simmer until thickens, and remove vanilla bean
5. Put the jam in jars and seal in water bath

I tend to simmer only for a short time and shut off the heat, letting the jam cool. When convenient, I reheat for a short time again  to thicken the jam through evaporation. This jam sets up nicely and without much fussing. (Photos are from my latest batch–one of many.)

What I was blogging about:

• One year ago: Horse Manure: Crappy Soil Amendment for Your Garden
• Two years ago: How to Build a Better Berry Basket (or Bucket)

When the universe speaks, it’s good to listen. Should you ignore the headsup, you may find yourself bottoms up, doused in your favorite beverage. (Truth be told, I managed to keep my sweet tea upright both times.) I could say these motel chairs are old and the metal weak, but denial is a quick road to pretzel-shaped lawn furniture.  (Notice there are two chairs, that tells you something right there.) Sure, I could choose to loose a little weight, I just didn’t think a motel chair would be the messenger.

Guess I better go check the hammock hooks…and health of the trees.

The Top Ten Reasons I Grow Raspberries

1. Easy to grow–they just want good drainage
2. Birds prefer blueberries and cherries
3. Minimal thorns (if any)
4. Sweetness–flavor and perfume that can’t be beat
5. Self-pollinating–no need to worry about planting two varieties
6. No bending over to harvest–can’t say that about a strawberry
7. Easy to prune–just remove last year’s dead canes
8. Easy to pick–fruit yields to pull when ripe
9. Prolific harvest–a small patch returns a lot of berries
10. Freeze well–freeze single layer on cookie sheet, then place in ziploc bags
11. Versatile fruit–desserts, smoothies, drinks, vinegar, jams, sherbet, sauces
12. Shortcake prefers them (as do I)

Okay, so I went over with my alotted top ten, but I assure you once you start growing raspberries, you’ll be adding to my list.  By the way, my favorite variety for the Puget Sound area is Tulameen.

Oh, and just one more reason: Good help is easy to find.

Added July 26, 2010: My pal Deb in Juneau, Alaska had some ten-digit deliciousness to show off as well. Her photo technique is ingenious. In my photo-edited pic, I’m all left hands, but Deb proves a more resourceful photographer. She wrote, “ I shot with my chin, used the tongue of the boat trailer to hold the camera.” Yep she’s part great gardener, part gifted MacGyver and all good friend. Thanks Deb –  raspberries in Juneau–impressive.

What I was blogging about:

• One year ago: Seattle: Just How Hot Was It?
• Two years ago: Let the Art of Nature Drift By

My pal Annette over at Sustainable Eats (along with a couple of her blogging compadres) started Simple Lives Thursday, a blog hop that shares what others are doing in the realm of agriculture, real food, producing more and consuming less.

And since I’ve never met a deadline I didn’t stretch, I’m debuting her Simple Lives Thursday on Fashionably Late Friday. Hopefully, Annette will forgive my faux pas, and I promise to be on-time next Thursday, or a jar of jam is in her future. (Bribery in canned goods, this is a bad trend.)

Sure we import the requisite carnie folk, funnel cakes and midway rides to the island, but Strawberry Festival is really more about the homegrown events and venues unique to Vashon. You can run the other way or you can embrace the crowds, craziness and corndogs. Umm, deep-fried food on a stick…I choose the latter.

Why I love Vashon Strawberry Festival.

1.  It’s an event where farming is fashionable. 

2.  I get to shore up some bragging rights. 

2. The talents of neighbors and friends are on parade. 

3.  Shimmying and shaking take center stage. 

5.  Street dance fever takes over downtown (thanks to the Portage-Fill Harmonic and Captain Dick and the Portholes (though cameras should not be allowed).

6. Nice rides rule the road.

7.  You’re hard-pressed to find any strawberries (raspberries are another story).

8.  And probably the best reason of all, the company can’t be matched. 

Strawberry Festival Activities include:

• Saturday Street Dances
• Grand Parade
• Classic Car Parade
• Vashon Artists in Ober Park
• Kid’s Carnival
• Beer Garden, Wine and Jazz Fusion
• Kiwanis Pancake Breakfast
• Bill Burby Fun Run
• The Fireman’s Water Challenge
• And a whole lot of great Music
• Related links: Photos

What I was blogging about:

• One year ago: Tomato Plants: Leave the Little Suckers Alone
• Two years ago: The Grow Report: Cherry Trees