At the beginning of the year, I promised myself that I would seek, cook, and eat seasonal produce once it came summer. So here I am, the beginning of June is upon us, the farmers market has just begun with its fresh garlic scapes and herbs, and farmers are opening up their u-pick fruit fields.
Sweet strawberries and sour rhubarb are ripe during early June in Indiana. My town of Franklin held its Strawberry Festival this past weekend in tandem with the first farmers market of the season. During the festival, locals lined up around the block for $5 strawberry shortcake, a perfectly sweet start to the weekend. I bought goodies from the market — fresh eggs, a quart of juicy berries, green tomatoes, garlic scapes, and mint. It was a lively bunch of produce, the first big harvest of the year. I was overwhelmed and excited by the idea that I could go to the market on Saturday mornings and plan the week’s tentative menu based on what looked best from the available crop. But along with that... I also felt the sacredness of it all, the tender, fragileness of the season that is here for a moment, and gone the next if I am not paying attention. I know summer and all it's glory just started, but it soon pass whether I am here for it or not.
Ramp and morel season came and went in a flash. Soon, we’ll move on from strawberries and rhubarb to cucumbers and tomatoes, carrots and green beans, corn and apples. I hope to stop and rest here in this precious moment, amongst the white onion and sage. I hope to pay attention and savor the blend of flavors that present themselves.
This is is about fruits and veggies, but it is also about something more. Sure, the strawberry season will come around again next year, but life will look a little different then. Paying attention to the food in season means slowing down enough to pay attention to the life at my fingertips. I’m pressing pause now — stopping to smell the roses, bake strawberry tarts and rhubarb muffins, feel the breeze flow in through the open kitchen window. I don’t want to take shortcuts or scroll endlessly on the LED screen. I’m thankful for the vines that grow outside my bedroom window which produce pink berries and the tree branches with green leaves that sway in the wind. The long summer nights, where it’s 9 pm and the houses and powerlines look like shadows against the deep cobalt sky. The way I stay up late to write this is when I have work to tend to in the morning. I’m beginning to realize that eating seasonally means paying attention to the season that I am in to it’s fullest.
I’m letting myself be in this moment. I find myself on these long balmy days under the tent at the Saturday farmers market, at my stove cooking dinner on a Tuesday, at work with the rain dripping down the window, on the porch with my family near the end of a long weekend. I invite you, too… let yourself be in this moment, wherever you are. Enjoy the sweet and sour that this season serves up — soon it will move on whether we are ready for it or not.
Strawberry rhubarb tart
Over the weekend, I baked 16 muffins and a whole tart with the number of strawberries and rhubarb I had in my fridge. This tart was easy to assemble and yummy in every way. I didn’t have any vanilla ice cream nor whip cream, so I took a bit of heavy cream, a pitch of sugar, and my milk frother to create a homemade whip cream of sorts. I hope this can complete your rainy Sunday everything like it did mine.
Ingredients
One batch of Aaron’s Tart Dough (from Samin Nosrat’s book, Salt Fat Acid Heat)
2 cups of diced rhubarb (10 oz or 2-3 stalks)
2 cups of diced strawberries (12 oz)
½ cup sugar adjust to taste
1 tablespoon lemon juice
4 tablespoons of tapioca or corn starch
1 egg whisked to be used as egg wash
1-2 tablespoons of sugar to sprinkle on the crust
Serve with
Vanilla ice cream or
Whip cream, store bought or homemade
Instructions
Make one batch of Aaron’s tart dough according to instructions.
Once the dough is cooling in the fridge, combine the diced rhubarb and strawberry in a bowl. Add the lemon juice, sugar, and tapioca or corn starch. Mix well and let rest for at least 30 minutes, stirring every once in a while.
Once the tart dough has chilled for at least two hours, flour the counter, your hands, and your rolling pin. Roll out the dough into a 14” circle. It’s okay if the edges crack some. Then transfer the tart dough onto a flat baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
Use a slotted spoon to transfer the rhubarb and strawberry filling to the center of the tart. Try to avoid adding any of the access liquid. Leave the outer 2 to 4 inches of tart dough free of any fruit filling. Next, fold the edges of the tart dough over the filling. It will not cover the entire filling, this is mainly meant to contain and keep the filling inside.
Refrigerate the tart for at least 30 minutes. Breath.
Pre-heat the oven to 400F.
Before placing the tart in the preheated oven, brush the edges with the egg wash and sprinkle with some sugar.
Bake the tart for about 35-40 minutes or until the crust is a deep golden yellow.
Let the tart cool for 15 minutes before cutting into it. Serve alone, with vanilla ice cream, or whip cream. Share with family, savor, and enjoy.
This week I’m…
Reading: “9 Great Reader Comments on Rituals” and "14 Great Reader Comments on Rituals." These articles on reader’s comments about rituals from Cup of Jo put mundane life into wonderful perspective.
Eating: Three Cheese Tortellini with alfredo sauce from Richard's Brick Oven Pizza. My favorite of all pastas.
Watching: These two Instagram reels (Reel #1. Reel #2) of Cavalier King Charles Spaniel puppies. My desire to buy a spaniel grows stronger and stronger by the day.
Listening: To the 2016 Penny and Sparrow album Let a Lover Drown You.
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