Fiddle-dee-dee

I wouldn't always go near fiddleheads. They were, most definitely, on my list of avoidables growing up. I remember my mom bringing them home, all excited about the fresh, springiness of them. In those days, anything that closely resembling something from the garden garnered skepticism from my picky, young self.

Nowadays, no convincing is required; in May, I’m actively on the lookout for fiddleheads, and they can pretty easily be found at this time of year -- when we're drowning in the riches of asparagus and spring greens -- at farmers' markets.

As with asparagus, the season for fiddleheads is short. They are, after all, the tightly-curled, newly unfurling heads of the ostrich fern. Leave those ferns any longer and you'll have plants, not fiddleheads. The croziers, as they're otherwise known, are typically collected in the wild and found in coastal areas (big on the east coast), although, these days, farmers are beginning to grow them commercially, too.

Fiddleheads aren't meant to be eaten raw. The Canadian Food Inspection Agency wants you to wash them in several changes of cold water, remove all of the brown, papery husk, and boil them for 15 minutes or steam them for 10 to 12 minutes before eating them. This is because, back in the '90s, there were a number of food poisoning cases related to fiddlehead-eating; scientists believe there's a naturally-occuring plant toxin there that can be killed off by heat.

Hopefully I haven't turned you off of these little green beauties. They're perfectly safe to eat; I'm seven months pregnant and have no intention of abstaining.

Fiddleheads are a natural partner to lemon and are a natural fit in pretty much any recipe that calls for asparagus.
Last year I made these Italian-style fiddleheads one night and clearly remember thinking that the recipe, from Lucy Waverman's Lucy's Kitchen, was a definite keeper. Don't be put off by the anchovies. The recipe doesn't taste fishy; the chopped fillets just give the greens a salty fullness that you simply won't get if you omit them. You can use oil-packed or dry sundried tomatoes, but beware of some of the commercial oil-packed varieties as they're insanely salty. In that case, a quick rinse might not be out of the question before you chop.

Trim the brown ends off the fiddleheads and you'll be left with little circles. There are a few tricks for getting the brown husks off; try putting your fiddleheads in a paper bag and shaking it up or whirling them around in a lettuce spinner. Follow this with several washes.

You may notice this recipe doesn't have you boiling the fiddleheads for 15 minutes, as per the CFIA's recommendations. I've followed this recipe's cooking times exactly and have lived to tell about it but I'll leave it up to you as to whether or not you want to exercise more caution.

Waverman suggests fiddleheads done in this style can either be eaten as a side dish or tossed with short pasta for a meal. Mixed with some quinoa or couscous, it would make for a yummy and healthy lunch, too.

Sauteed Fiddleheads Italian Style

8 oz fiddleheads, washed well

2 tbsp olive oil

1 tbsp butter

1 tsp chopped garlic

1/4 cup chopped sun dried tomatoes

2 tbsp chopped anchovy fillets

pinch chili flakes

1 tbsp balsamic vinegar

salt and freshly ground pepper

Bring a pot of salted water to a boil. Add fiddleheads and boil four to five mnutes or until tender-crisp. Refresh under cold water until cool and drain well. 

Heat oil and butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add garlic, tomatoes and anchovies. Saute for about one minute or until garlic is softened. Stir in fiddleheads and chili flakes and cook until fiddleheads have absorbed flavours, about two minutes. Sprinkle with balsamic vinegar. Season with salt and pepper only if needed.

100 Mile Challenge

If you committed to a diet of food that was solely grown within 100 miles of your house, what would you miss most? Coffee? Spices? 

It's a valid question for Waterloo naturopaths Rachel VandenBerg and Michael Torreiter, who, this week, are hoping to round up 100 committed locals to join them in eating 100 mile food for 100 days this summer.

Authors Alisa Smith and James MacKinnon, a B.C. couple, were the first to try it and tell about it. They devoted themselves to local eating for a year and chronicled their experiences in the much-discussed 2007 book The 100 Mile Diet.

They then took the project to everyday folks in Mission, B.C., having six families there try 100 days of eating food grown and produced within a 100 mile radius of Mission, and the results recently aired in a Food Network Canada program called The 100 Mile Challenge.

Torreiter and VandenBerg, who run the Healing Path Centre for Natural Medicine on King Street in Waterloo, first thought of the idea a couple of years ago and were going to try it then. Other things got in the way at the time, but fast forward to now, and the doctors are ready to take on the task. They hope to find at least 98 other willing participants.

This Tuesday, they'll hold a recruitment session of sorts at The Canadian Clay and Glass Gallery from 7 to 9 p.m., where all are welcome. Regional public health planner Marc Xuereb will give a presentation on local eating, growers will be on hand, and there will be a Q and A session about how the 100 days will work. The whole affair will be catered with locally produced food.

Though the 100 days won't officially start until Saturday, July 4 (timed to coincide with our abundant growing season), VandenBerg says they're getting the ball rolling now because they "wanted people to avoid the stress of being unprepared. This way we can paint a picture of what these 100 days will look like and people have time to figure out what prep work they'll need to do."

Over the course of the three-plus months (the project wraps up over Thanksgiving), there will be potluck events, organized farm expeditions and workshops. VandenBerg says they'll be open to suggestions from participants as to how the experience can be enriched for everyone.

Local food growers and sellers are thrilled about the project and many are enthusiastically offering to help out in any way they can. It will, after all, mean increased sales for those who run small food-based businesses in the region and are constantly struggling to market themselves against commercial grocers and big box stores.

Asked what they think participants will find it hardest to give up, Torreiter and VandenBerg have a few thoughts.

"Coffee and chocolate," they both say, right off the bat.

"Sugar might be tough but we do have honey and maple syrup," adds VandenBerg. "Nuts and seeds might be a problem. And people pretty much can't have anything that comes in a package so the loss of convenience will be tough. I think making everything from scratch will be the hardest thing."

Indeed, Torreiter laughs at the thought of getting out a pasta maker late on a Friday night and telling the kids to wait a couple hours while he makes up homemade dough and then cranks it out.

Though reducing carbon footprints and supporting the local economy are often the top reasons for eating 100 mile foods, Torreiter thinks the health benefits will also be well worth the effort. (One local eater in Mission, B.C. unexpectedly lost 42 pounds.)

"As naturopaths, we're interested in healthy eating and anything that gets people back to a whole foods-based diet," says Torreiter. "The prevalence of processed foods is just huge. Giving that up will be hard for people."

If you think you're up for the 100 Mile Challenge, visit www.healingpathcentre.com or call the office at 519-578-7000. Or just head down to the gallery Tuesday night.

Maybe one bite of those homegrown regional canapes will have you signing up on the spot.

Empty Bowls

My appetite for soup begins to wane at this time of year as I look less often for belly warmers and, now that the fresh stuff is creeping its way back into my kitchen, begin to lunch more on the cool and crisp.

An excellent reason to revisit soup this week, though, comes via the Empty Bowls fundraiser, a joint effort between the Waterloo Potters' Workshop, Canadian Clay and Glass Gallery, and several local restaurants and bakeries that raises funds for the Food Bank of Waterloo Region.

This is the 11th year for the event, which will be held at the gallery this Thursday afternoon and evening. According to coordinator Lori Cowell, a member of the potters' workshop, it's quite a hot ticket in town (so much so, that its 450 $40 tickets were completely snapped up within a couple of days of going on sale April 1).

The Empty Bowls concept is not unique to Waterloo region. It started in 1990 when a Michigan high school teacher and his class made ceramic bowls for a fundraising meal. Guests would be able to keep their bowl so that, when empty, they'd be a reminder of hunger in the world.

The concept has spread throughout North America, with cities hosting events in support of food banks, soup kitchens and other organizations that fight hunger. "Everyone runs theirs their own way," says Cowell.

Over 50 local potters began making the 600 or so bowls for the event many months ago -- some by hand and some using a wheel -- using donated clay. Musicians, florists and lighting and printing companies have donated their services, as well.

As will the 10 restaurants and six bakeries that provide the grub. As guests arrive for one of two seatings (either from noon to 2 p.m. or from 4:30 to 6:30), they choose their own bowl, give it a wash, then make their way around the main gallery, sampling soups and breads as they please. Soup comes from, among others, The Rude Native, Sole and King Street Trio and bread from such bakeries as Nougat, Golden Hearth and City Cafe.

Thiru Maran, owner of Waterloo restaurant Classic Indian, has been participating in Empty Bowls for eight years now. Though his mulligitawny soup has been sought-after in years past, this year he plans to make Thakkali soup, which he describes as cream of tomato, Indian style. "it's got a little kick to it but people like it," he says of the soup, which is featured on his restaurant's menu.

As for why he participates in Empty Bowls, Maran explains, "We are landed immigrants. We came here with a couple of suitcases and had the willpower to work hard and make it happen, and the community has been very supportive. This is a way to give back and be involved."

Gusto Catering is participating for the first time this year. Their commitment to using local ingredients and building relationships with farmers has them sourcing greenhouse tomatoes from Elmira's Floralane Produce to make a Mediterranean-style roasted tomato soup with cardamom cream.

Sounds lovely, doesn't it? But not to worry if you didn't score tickets (though there's always next year). Gusto owner Dominic Ellis and executive chef Doug Westover have provided their recipe, which serves six to eight. Get out your best pottery, break off a piece of crusty bread and do give thought to the meaning that empty bowl holds when you've finished eating.

Roasted Tomato Soup with Cardamom Cream

3 pounds plum tomatoes

8 tbsp olive oil (separated)

1 large red pepper, seeded and quartered

1/2 tsp fennel seed

4 tbsp fresh thyme, finely chopped (separated)

4 cloves garlic, minced (separated)

1 medium Spanish onion, chopped

1 large stalk celery, sliced

1 large carrot, sliced

1/3 cup sherry

1 small red chili, seeded

8 green cardamom pods , roasted

6 cups chicken stock

1/2 cup 35 per cent cream

coarse salt and black pepper

Preheat oven to 400F. Core tomatoes and slice in half lengthwise. Toss in a bowl with 6 tbsp olive oil, 2 tbsp thyme, 1/2 of the minced garlic, 1/2 tsp fennel seed and the red pepper. Place tomatoes (and pepper) cut-side up on a large parchment-lined baking sheet, pour over remaining oil from the bowl, and sprinkle with salt and pepper. Roast uncovered for 45 minutes to an hour or until desired roast has been reached. (If too dark, the tomatoes become bitter).

Heat remaining oil in a large saucepan over medium heat. Add onion, celery, carrot and remaining garlic. Cook, stirring often, for five minutes or until softened. Add sherry, two whole cardamom pods (to be removed later), red chili and stock. Bring to a boil, stirring often, then cover and reduce heat. Let simmer for 25 minutes or until very sort. Remove cardamom pods. Add roasted tomatoes and remaining thyme. Simmer 10 to 15 minutes longer, then puree in the blender or food processor (or use an immersion blender). Strain, discarding solids.

Meanwhile, in a separate, small sauce pan, add the remaining cardamom pods to the cream and bring to a simmer (but don't boil!) Set aside and strain when cool.

Season soup with salt and pepper and serve with a swirl of cardamom cream.

Monforte Renaissance

Ruth Klahsen is a master of metaphors. According to a blog the artisanal cheesemaker writes for the website of her company, Monforte Dairy, perfect cheese is the Super Bowl of her craft, the ever-dangling carrot that gets her up every morning.

These days, Klahsen also sees herself as a little like an obstetrician or a midwife birthing a baby. She's doing something challenging and at times profoundly difficult. But ultimately, the rewards will be great.

Until last year, Monforte Dairy was based in Millbank, Ont., just west of Waterloo Region in Perth County. It was producing a good three-dozen types of sheep and goat milk cheeses and had doubled its sales every year for the previous five. Klahsen was a darling of Ontario chefs and food connoisseurs.

But then the rent went up for the factory space she was using, so much so that renewing the lease wasn't an option. Operations had to cease and local lovers of Monforte products -- everything from pecorino to 0ricotta to organic garlic scape cheddar -- found that their sources (Vincenzo's and the Knechtel Cheese stand at the Kitchener Market) had none to sell.

The great news is that Klahsen and her support team have plans to resume production in a Stratford building, once a 6,000 square foot addition has been constructed.

"Floor plans are looking firm, and we're meeting with the architect and landlord this week," Klahsen told me.

In addition to the dairy, the site will have a cheesemaking school where budding professionals will apprentice (and, possibly, where foodies and kitchen tinkerers might be able to take weekend classes). The plan is for Monforte to acquire ownership of the building after five years.

The most interesting aspect about Monforte's expected "renaissance," however, is how Klahsen is raising money using the community-supported agriculture (CSA) model, which has typically been used for growing and selling fruits and vegetables, not for making cheese.

CSA programs create a direct link between customers and producers. Customers prepay for their product, which gives the business (and the farmers who supply it) much-needed capital to get started. Customers then reap the rewards when the "harvest" begins.

To fund the dairy, Klahsen has begun to sell cheese subscriptions.

There are three types. The most affordable subscription, for the average Joe, will require a $200 investment and will net the investor $250 worth of vouchers that can be exchanged, beginning in 2010, for $50 worth of cheese a year for five years. The other investment options cost $500 or $1,000 and will, obviously, mean getting vouchers for a greater amount of cheese.

As Klahsen sees it, $200 subscriptions are almost as meaningful as $1,000 subscriptions, although they do "whoop and cheer" for those, too, she says.

"I love the $200 one," she says. "If someone puts in $200, they've really had to think about it and be careful about their financial choices."

So far, Monforte has sold about 310 subscriptions. It has set a goal to raise $1 million and hopes to reach it by the end of the year.

Already, it has obtained $143,000. Investors are told they will get their money back if the goal isn't reached.

"If it wasn't for this grassroots thing, we wouldn't have a chance," Klahsen says, noting that the banks just wouldn't come through for her.

"We'd be done. I'm so grateful we have this as an option."

Most crucial, she says, is that the rebuilding of Monforte will help sustain the operations of several farmers. Before production ceased, the dairy was using sheep and goat milk obtained from 19 Mennonite farmers. Now it's down to one, using that milk to make hard cheeses at a dairy in Lindsay, Ont. That cheese won't be ready to sell for several months.

Once operations get going next year, Klahsen hopes to keep as many as 25 farmers going.

"That's the most important thing we do in all of this," she insists.

"I love making cheese, but that doesn't mean a hill of beans if farming isn't sustainable."

For more information about Monforte cheese and its CSA program, visit www.monfortedairy. com or phone 1-877-437-5553. Klahsen is also holding a "town hall" information session at 2 p.m. on Sunday, May 17 at Stratford City Hall.

Rhubarb

"I always know spring is coming when my freezer starts to get empty," a colleague said to me recently. 

In certain ways, I agree. I am down to about my last 12 strawberries, now carefully measuring them out for smoothies (what's that, one per week between now and the end of June?).

At the same time, my freezer remains as full as ever. This is for two reasons. First, I'm guilty of overly selective rationing -- always saving my precious frozen local blueberries and raspberries for a rainy day. 

Second, I am guilty of hoarding -- freezing several bags of rhubarb, for example, with the thought that two of us will eat it all winter long, because I couldn't bear to just let the stalks wither and die. 

And so as the ruby red leaves of the rhubarb plant beside our house begin to unfurl from the ground at lightning speed, I find myself with about four pounds of frozen rhubarb from the end of last season that need using up. What to do? Here most people are eagerly awaiting stalks long enough to actually break off, and I, having spent the last few weeks busily scouring books and magazines for rhubarb recipes, am setting myself up to be sick of it. 

Last weekend, I made a decent dent in my stash by way of a cross between a cake and a pie. A biscuit dough makes up bottom and top pie shells, and rhubarb, citrus zest and a little sugar make the filling. The biscuit soaks up all the tart juices, and it's easier to handle than pie pastry. It'd be nice with brunch but we had it after supper one night (all that was missing was the vanilla ice cream).

Perhaps a savoury chutney would be a good option for the rest. The overwhelming amount I've got will cook down nice and small, then it could be canned, then stashed again or just given away. After all, it does me no good to be sick of rhubarb just in time for the fresh stuff. Making something with the first rhubarb of spring has become a rite I'd hate to lose my enthusiasm for.

Whether, like me, you've got a freezer full of rhubarb to attack, or whether you're anticipating the first harvest of your backyard plant, here's the recipe for that scone cake, which serves six to eight, from The San Francisco Ferry Plaza Farmers' Market Cookbook. Don't do as I did and forget the ice cream.

Rustic Rhubarb Scone Cake

For the dough:

3 cups unbleached, all-purpose flour

1 tsp baking powder

1/4 cup sugar

pinch of salt

1/2 cup chilled, unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

3/4 cup of buttermilk

For the filling: 

1 pound rhubarb (about five stalks), chopped

grated zest of one orange 

1/2 cup sugar

1 egg white, lightly whisked with a little water

sugar for sprinkling on top

Preheat the oven to 350. Butter a 10-inch deep dish pie dish and set aside. 

To make the scone dough, sift together the flour, baking powder, sugar and salt in a large bowl. Add the butter and, using a pastry blender, two knives or your fingers, work the butter into the flour mixture until the mixture has the consistency of coarse cornmeal. Gradually add the buttermilk, folding the wet and dry ingredients together until a soft, shaggy dough forms. Turn out onto a floured work surface and knead lightly just until the dough comes together. Don't work the dough too much, or it will be tough. Divide the dough into two equal portions.

To make the filling, combine the rhubarb, zest and sugar in a bowl and stir to mix well.

Roll out half the dough into a 12-inch round on the floured work surface and transfer it to the prepared pie dish. If it falls apart, don't worry. Just gently pat it back into place. Fill the dough-lined dish with the rhubarb mixture. Roll out the remaining dough into a 12-inch round to form a pastry lid. Brush the rim of the bottom crust with water and put on the lid. Press the to crust to the bottom crust to seal.

Brush the whisked egg white evenly over the top crust and then sprinkle lightly and evenly with sugar. Make three or four steam slits in the lid. Bake until the crust is golden brown and looks dry and the fruit is soft when tested with a knife tip through a slit, about one hour.

Serve warm or at room temperature.