Rhubarb Syrup

I was 16 before I encountered rhubarb in real life.  I'd read about it before-- most notably in Patricia Polacco's book My Rotten Redheaded Older Brother.  But that's beside the point.  Rhubarb is a fantastic vegetable.  I mean, how many other veggies do people bake with?  There's carrot cake, and I've seen a couple things with zucchini (anything to use them up!), but rhubarb!  Rhubarb makes excellent pie, cake, cobbler, jam, candies (In Germany you can get strawberry rhubarb gummies)...  The funny thing is, it's rather tart.  Or maybe that's why I love it so much.  As much as I love sweets, they're even better balanced with something tart (I feel this way about frozen yogurt as well, but again, I digress.)

     If you're unfamiliar with rhubarb, you should know that the leaves contain enough oxalic acid to produce toxic effects.  Don't eat the leaves.  The stalks also contain oxalic acid, but in lower amounts, so you can munch away at them, although you might not want to eat a whole garden in one sitting.  Interestingly, oxalic acid (in the form of calcium oxalate crystals) is also responsible for the toxicity of taro, the dietary staple of a number of Polynesian cultures.

Rhubarb Syrup
Rhubarb (I used about 4 stalks)
Sugar (I used about 3/4 C)
Water

     Clean the rhubarb, discard any icky or dried out ends (I find that by the time I get rhubarb home from the grocery store, the ends are a little shrivel-y).  Chop it into chunks.  This works best with a large and sharp knife.  Rhubarb can be surprisingly difficult to slice through.  Toss the rhubarb into a pot, and cover with water.  Dump in sugar (I do this rather indiscriminately) until you start seeing an accumulation of it that doesn't seem inclined to dissolve.  Turn on the heat, and bring the whole mess to a boil.  Reduce the heat and let it simmer about half an hour or so, until the rhubarb is tender, and the liquid has begun to thicken (it is a syrup!).  Taste test to make sure it is sufficiently sweet.  Simmer longer for thicker syrup.

      Strain the mixture into a container.  Use a sieve, pushing the rhubarb around to increase the amount of syrup yielded.  Set aside the rhubarb, too.  It makes a delicious ice cream topping!

      My favorite thing to do with rhubarb syrup is make rhubarb soda-- just put a few tablespoons of syrup in the bottom of a glass and add soda water.  The syrup is also great in cocktails or lemonade, and if you make it thick (I don't usually), it would probably be pretty good on pancakes or waffles.  I'm thinking I want to make a poundcake and soak it in the syrup, actually-- it won't be quite that simple, because that would ruin the texture (soggy poundcake... not so much).  When I get that figured out, I'll be sure to post it!

Radish-top Soup

'Tis the season for Farmer's Markets!  One of my favorite things to look at while at the farmer's market is radishes.  They are just beautiful.  Round, red, crisp, and leafy, rinsed and stacked up, they sit there and call to me.  Alas, I am not much of a radish fan.  However, Roots had some wonderful radish recipes, including one for a soup that uses the TOPS of the radishes (you know, the part that you throw out normally--yay complete eating!), so I couldn't resist.

Radish Top Soup
Radishes with fresh-looking, leafy tops
1/2 onion
2 or 3 stalks of celery 
2 carrots
2 medium-sized potatoes, peeled and finely chopped.
4 C broth*

      Begin by washing your radishes, including the greens.  Chop the greens off, discard any icky-looking ones, and set them aside for later.
      Chop the onion, celery, and carrot.  In a large soup pot, sauté them in oil until they are slightly tender.  Add the broth, potatoes, and salt, and bring to a boil, and reduce to simmer.  Simmer until the veggies are completely tender, then remove from the heat.  Immediately add the radish greens-- the heat will cause them to wilt, and (without going too deeply into thermodynamics) the overall mix will cool (only slightly) as the energy is transferred to the leaves.  I think of this because it makes me feel better about the waiting I'm about to do:  you need the soup to cool to a manageable, won't-crack-cold-dishes temperature.
      Impatient cooks, do not despair!  While you're waiting for your soup to cool, start matchsticking those radishes.  I don't know if "matchsticking" is a real term, but basically you're going to slice the radishes into ~1/8th inch slices, then slice the slices into ~1/8th inch strips-- like little matchsticks.
      Hopefully by the time you're done, your soup is relatively cool.  When it is, pour it into a blender or food processor (you may have to do this in batches), and blend/process until smooth.  Return the soup to the pot and gently re-heat.  Season to taste with salt and pepper.  Serve topped with those matchsticked radishes.

*Note on broth:  I used a bacon broth leftover from another recipe for a warm lentil and bacon salad (I'll post it as soon as I can find my recipe again; there are some measurements I don't remember.)  You can probably use any broth you want (keep it vegan, if you like), but I really felt the bacon flavor added something.

     My whole family enjoyed this soup.  They looked at me funny when I said, "radish tops", but they were all really pleased with the flavor.  The potatoes give the soup a wonderful creaminess that I hadn't expected, and those radish matchsticks added as a garnish provide a nice contrast with their crispness and sharp flavor.  I added leftover matchsticks to the leftover soup prior to storing it; I recommend against this, because they lose their crunch.  
     As I said above, I think a large part of what made this recipe so wonderful was the hint of bacon my broth imparted.  The take-home there, though, might be just to choose a broth with a flavor that you really like, and that will come through well.  If you have the best-ever chicken or veggie broth, by all means, use it.  You probably won't be disappointed.  
     Overall, I really felt that there was an elegance to this recipe as well as a fantastic flavor.  It comes from the presentation (those matchsticks!), but also from how well the ingredients are used.  The concept of using the greens gives a bit of novelty, and the creaminess attained without using cream is beautiful.  It is filling enough to make a meal when served with bread, but light enough to make a soup course (if you ever feel the need to).  I love this recipe even more after making it than I did before I started.

Make-it-up-as-we-go Manicotti

Oh, pasta, where would we be without you?  A silly question, I suppose, but I know that I grew up eating a lot of pasta.  It's cheap, it's quick, it's easy.  It goes with just about anything.  You can leave a 10-year-old to make it herself, "just follow the directions on the box and be careful not to burn yourself."  (Assuming the 10-year-old in question has spent a lot of time helping and/or getting underfoot in the kitchen.)   It's an excellent go-to when one has no plans for dinner/forgot to thaw the meat.  Which is how my mother and I wound up making manicotti recently.
There are a lot of manicotti recipes out there.  There's usually one printed on the side of the box.  My mom has a vague idea what her mom used to put inside those noodles, so after frowning at the side of the box for a while, "There's no egg listed here.  My mother always used egg," she decided to improvise, and I somehow wound up in the kitchen with my camera and my 2 cents to put in.  In the recipe below, my mom is responsible for the almost obscene amount of basil.  We have a very large, healthy basil plant in our herb garden; Mom must've pruned the thing.  I swear, she brought in enough to make pesto.  (Pesto-topped manicotti strikes me as a cool idea, actually, but I don't think she was feeling that experimental.)  I decided to sauté the onion and garlic so they'd have a milder flavor. We got to work, and this is what we came up with.

Basil Lover's Manicotti

1 box manicotti noodles (check to make sure they aren't broken)

1 container (16-ish oz?) ricotta cheese

1/3 C grated mozzarella

1/4 grated parmesan 

Salt and Pepper

1/4 C Onion, diced

1 clove garlic, minced

2 Tbsp Olive oil

Fresh Basil, about 1/4 cup chopped 

1 Egg

Tomato Sauce

Preheat the oven to 350 Fahrenheit. 

Boil the manicotti in salted water, referring to the box for the correct cook time.  

Meanwhile, combine the ricotta, mozzarella, and parmesan.  Briefly sauté the onion and garlic in 1 Tbsp olive oil, until they are just barely starting to brown.  Add that to the cheese mixture, along with most of the basil (reserve about 1 Tbsp for later).  Season to taste with salt and pepper, then add the egg.  (I do try to minimize the amount of raw egg I consume.)  

Grease a wide, shallow pan (a 9x13 baking pan or a gratin pan if you have one) with the remaining Tbsp of olive oil.  

When your noodles are done cooking, drain them, and immediately rinse them with cold water.  This prevents them from sticking to each other, and cools them to a temperature that your fingers can handle.  Stuff each noodle with the cheese mixture.  I like using my fingers for this, because I feel that I have more control that way.  If you're a utensil-user (not everyone likes having dirty fingers, I get it), my mom recommends using a fork rather than a spoon.  It's easier to detach the filling from a fork.  Arrange the stuffed noodles in a single layer in the greased pan.  I usually wind up with a leftover noodle or two, which makes me happy, because for whatever reason, I absolutely love eating manicotti noodles plain.  Or you can put slightly less filling in each noodle, and probably arrange them a little tighter, but I wouldn't want to do that.  Cover the noodles with tomato sauce.  You can drown them if you like, but all you really have to do is make sure each noodle gets its fair share.  Sprinkle the remaining basil over top, and bake for about 40 minutes.

It was pretty good.  You have to like basil, for sure, but fortunately, my family members all do.  Manicotti is great because it is moist and, when done right, flavorful.  This recipe was no exception.  If I were to make it again, I would probably incorporate a finished pesto, and probably use more mozzarella, because I love the gooey, stretchy texture that cheese has.