History reveals that pot pies made their first appearance in the royal courts of the Middle Ages and they have been wildly popular fare ever since. Swanson made its first frozen chicken pot pie in 1951 and moments later it went into heavy rotation in my mother’s meal repertoire. For my money, nothing says “comfort food” quite like a pot pie.

With all due respect to Swanson and their products, I love homemade pot pies. Each cook has her own interpretation, likely passed down from generations before. Like snowflakes, each pot pie recipe is different.

An aside: It’s called a Chicken Pot Pie. There is obviously chicken involved and it is, in fact, baked in a pie. As for the second ingredient, I’ve seen little or no evidence of it’s presence in any of the dishes I’ve tasted. Worth pondering? I believe it is.

But I digress. Among many other lovely vegetables, this week’s CSA farmshare included, as you might expect, an abundance of summer squash, as well as a small bag of basil and a head of garlic. And I had an almost-full jar of marinara sauce in the fridge needing to be used. Who knows how I came to think about pot pies, but I did and thought I should try…

Pizza Pot Pie - Veggie Style

With relatively low expectations, I took less than half an hour and pulled it together with these ingredients:

2 tbls extra virgin olive oil

1 medium summer squash, quartered and sliced

2 cloves garlic, minced

1 medium onion, chopped

8 oz. mushrooms, sliced

1/4 cup fresh basil, chopped

1/2 tsp crushed red pepper (optional)

1 20 oz jar marinara sauce

1 cup Cabot mozzarella cheese, shredded

1 cup Cabot 50% Reduced Fat cheddar, shredded

1 box ready-made pie crust (2 per box)

I preheated the oven to 400º and brought the pie crusts to room temperature, then I put first crust in a deep dish pie plate and covered the bottom of the crust with shredded mozzarella.

Meanwhile, I heated olive oil in large saute pan then added onions, mushrooms, garlic, and squash. I cooked it over medium heat until softened, 8 - 10 minutes. (I had a bit of good red wine left over from the night before and added that, too. This is completely optional…but adds a very nice flavor and depth.)

To the softened veggies, I added the marinara sauce and let that simmer for about 15 minutes on a low heat.

I let the sauce mixture cool a while before adding it to the crust covered with the mozzarella.

Before adding the top crust, I sprinkled the cheddar cheese on top of the filling. Then I finished constructing the pie with the second crust.

Into the oven it went and 40 minutes later it came out, crust golden brown and sauce bubbling in a couple of places where it had escaped the bounds of the pie crust. (I would definitely advocate for a pie guard, like the one you see under the pie above or a cookie sheet to protect your oven.)

“How did your experiment in comfort food turn out?”  you might ask. Reader, it was delightful. The crust was light and still flakey, not soggy from the sauce. This turned out to be easy to make and lends itself to all kinds of variations. Meat eaters can add ground beef, chicken, or turkey. Chopped bacon, pepperoni, or pancetta would also be delicious. As for veggies, you can use as many or as few as you like, and any variety that strikes you fancy. The same goes for cheese. Cheddar, mozzarella, jack, provolone — it’s all going to taste pretty darn good in Pizza Pot Pie.

]]> http://www.candacekaru.com/pizza-pot-pieveggie-style/feed http://www.candacekaru.com/what-i-like-aboutcape-elizabeth-maine http://www.candacekaru.com/what-i-like-aboutcape-elizabeth-maine#comments Tue, 20 Jul 2010 01:08:37 +0000 Candace http://www.candacekaru.com/?p=813

Growing up in an Army family, moving every year or two, insured that I never really had a hometown. While I loved the adventure of my childhood and the freedom of leaving my childhood mistakes behind me, not having a place that was truly my own left a distinct void in my life. I never knew what a hometown might feel like…until 13 years ago when I moved to Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Living in this beautiful coastal town, a stone’s throw from downtown Portland, has taught me what a hometown feels like.

I love being a part of this community and knowing that, barring catastrophe, I will be here forever. I cherish the responsibility of helping make my adopted hometown better for my living here. I don’t even mind going into town hall to pay my painfully high property taxes, especially around Memorial Day, when the building is decked in proper celebratory bunting. Living in the heart of such beauty and tranquility doesn’t come cheap, but in my mind, it’s money well spent and seems cheaper than a lifetime of therapy, which I would surely need if I didn’t live here.

Cape Elizabeth Town Hall decked out in patriotic finery.

The best part of living here is impossible to convey with words and pictures. How can I properly describe the feeling of contentment I experience as I drive past the marsh coming home from a day or a week away?

How do I relate the muffled silence and wintery beauty of Robinson’s Woods after a snowstorm? Or tell you about the host of trails that wind around the town, through marsh and shoreline, ponds and forests. Walking and running these trails connect me to nature and to the friends who share their beauty with me.

Cape Elizabeth is less than five miles from downtown Portland, and yet it retains its rural character. There are acres of farmland and abundant opportunity to eat locally, whether it’s summer produce or year ’round seafood.

There are so many reasons I love this town. Can I show you just a few?

The Portland Headlight in Ft. Williams Park is said to be the most photographed lighthouse in the country. It has been featured in hundreds of print ads and television commercials. Its iconic presence guards the entrance to Casco Bay. On the first Saturday of August, Ft. Williams is the scene of the finish line of the TD Bank Beach to Beacon 10K, one of the country’s most prestigious road races.With more than 6000 participants and thousands more spectators, for the past 13 years Ft. Williams has been the scene of Maine’s biggest and most enthusiastic summer party.

Beach to Beacon’s founder and Cape Elizabeth native Joan Benoit Samuelson sure knows how to put on an event. Winner of the gold medal in the 1984 Summer Olympics, the first woman’s marathon in Olympic history, Samuelson remains a world-class athlete and a passionate supporter of her community as well as her sport. “Joanie’s race” attracts dozens of the world’s best runners, as well as recreational runners from around the country. About one tenth of the finishers are from Cape Elizabeth, a runner’s dream community to be sure.

Joanie’s statue marks the entrance to the town library, a popular gathering place for the town’s many recreational athletes.

Another hangout for runners, and readers, and bikers, and moms, and oenophiles, and strollers, and students, and just about everyone in town is The Local Buzz, a coffee house and wine bar that’s laid-back enough to be a comfortable place to bring kids, and cool enough to attract a hip after-dark crowd who can work their way through an impressive wine list and light dining fare.

The Buzz is Cape’s newest addition to the town’s list of restaurants and bistros. While the list isn’t a long one, our town offers visitors a variety of options.

The Good Table serves incredibly fresh, incredibly delicious food in a cozy, comfortable setting, for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  Their specialty cocktails are worth the trip, as are their various preparations of mussels, always one of the best choices on their menu.

The Lobster Shack at Two Lights offers Maine sea food people from away dream about, including a to-die-for lobster roll and breathtaking views of the Atlantic from the rocky coast of Maine. Two Lights is open from March to October, and while it’s at its most picturesque during the warm summer months, I love nothing more than to bundle up on a cool fall day and watch the sun set with a bowl of clam chowder and a beer.

And when I’m jonesing for a summer ice cream treat, I know I can head down the road to Kettle Cove Creamery & Cafe, where I’m bound to run into a neighbor or make a new friend while I wait in line for the best ice cream this side of the bridge.

Lest you think that dining in Cape Elizabeth might lack a certain dining sophistication, let me turn your attention to The Inn by the Sea and their incredible restaurant, Seaglass, winner of Wine Spectator’s 2009 Award of Excellence and Wine Enthusiast’s 2010 Award of Distinction. Combine their fine dining experience with yet one more killer view and it feels like we’ve got our culinary bases covered in Cape Lizzie.

There are so many things I love about this town, not the least of which is its rich history. The Spurwink Church, with its austere beauty and tranquil marsh views, was built in 1802 as the Spurwink Meeting House. It sits at the top of the hill overlooking the Riverside Cemetary, where I fully intend to spend eternity. Nothing like pre-need planning

This post has only scratched the surface of what compels me about Cape Elizabeth, a place in incomparable rugged beauty. What is even more extraordinary are the people who make this community the only place I want to call home.

So if you happen to be in Northern New England, you owe it to yourself to visit Cape Elizabeth…the way a hometown should be.

Moonrise on Spring Cove. Cape Elizabeth, Maine.

]]> http://www.candacekaru.com/what-i-like-aboutcape-elizabeth-maine/feed http://www.candacekaru.com/spread-the-word http://www.candacekaru.com/spread-the-word#comments Fri, 16 Jul 2010 10:31:56 +0000 Candace http://www.candacekaru.com/?p=802

Rainy weekend days often find me going through the enormous binder that holds recipes I have collected since college. The binder is a repository for most of my favorite recipes, even the ones I have found online. If I make a dish culled from a Twitter or Facebook recommendation and it works well in my repertoire, it goes immediately into the binder. These pages are annotated and often speckled with shiny dots of oil or a dusting of flour. They end up next to recipes purloined from aging waiting room magazines or yellowed newspaper clippings. The only way for a recipe to make it into the binder is if I have actually made the dish and plan to make it again.

I usually take time on the weekend to plan meals for the coming week, but when I have a little extra time, perusing my binder feels like a stroll down memory lane. I check my notes on certain dishes, remembering who I made them for and what occasion we were celebrating. Recently I came across a recipe from The New York Times Dining & Wine blog. The post, by Mark Bittman, appeared two years ago just in time for a summer party I was giving. It described a white bean spread with lemon and rosemary - a spread so versatile that in Bittman’s words: “Its most obvious use is as a dip, [but] it can also form the basis of a wonderful sandwich. Or serve it at the center of a plate of lightly and simply cooked vegetables.”

Bittman was right on. This spread is amazing, kind of like an Italian version of hummus. It is fragrant and earthy, simple and satisfying, and perfect for summer. It takes minutes to prepare, requires no cooking and yet is deceptively elegant. The ingredients are usually on hand, in case of an entertainment emergency. The recipe is also adaptable. I have tinkered with it over the past two years, adding a bit of crushed red pepper for heat, substituting basil for rosemary, and occasionally I even use grated Cabot Clothbound or Seriously Sharp Cheddar for depth and body.

Just last week, I saw a recipe on Twitter that substituted pureed chickpeas for the butter and flour used in many Macaroni and Cheese recipes. I tried that, but used the pureed bean spread in lieu of chickpeas. It was amazing!

So without further ado, I give you an elegant addition to your arsenal of crowd-pleasing recipes that are quick, easy and inexpensive.

TUSCAN WHITE BEAN SPREAD

2 cans white kidney beans (cannelini) drained

2-3 cloves garlic, minced

2 tsp. lemon zest

1 tsp. fresh rosemary, chopped

1/2 tsp. crushed red pepper

3/4 cup grated Cabot Clothbound or Seriously Sharp Cheddar (optional)

sea salt and ground pepper to taste

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

Zest lemons, taking care only to use the bright yellow skin. Avoid the white layer underneath, which is bitter. Mince garlic and rosemary.

Put beans, cheddar, zest, garlic, rosemary, and red pepper in the bowl of a food processor and pulse, slowly adding olive oil until thoroughly mixed and not quite creamy. Taste and add salt and pepper as needed. The spread can be served immediately or kept for several days in the refrigerator. Serve at room temperature to bring out all the flavors.

]]> http://www.candacekaru.com/spread-the-word/feed http://www.candacekaru.com/the-ex-files http://www.candacekaru.com/the-ex-files#comments Tue, 13 Jul 2010 11:02:03 +0000 Candace http://www.candacekaru.com/?p=765

“Success in marriage is more than finding the right person: it is being the right person.” - Robert Browning (1812-1889)

Maybe it’s my age, maybe it’s the time of year, but lately just about everyone I meet is going to a wedding. Or planning a wedding. Or getting married. I’ve found that weddings are a Rorschach test, revealing people’s complicated, conflicted, and often surprisingly hopeful views on the state of matrimony.

I sit at the very top of the “conflicted yet hopeful” list, because I am, dear reader, a two time loser. I’ve been married twice, both times solemnly repeating “’til death do us part” and both times meaning every word of the vows.

I have been known to joke that my first was a training wheel marriage, a kind of practice round for the real thing. But that isn’t true, and what’s more important, it doesn’t do justice to the intention that went into our union. The words I spoke at the ceremony were real for me. I wanted our relationship to be forever. But we were young - there should be a law against 23-year-olds getting married - and volatile and poorly prepared for the reality of joining our lives. We were both the product of divorce, with inadequate tools for the job at hand. We didn’t know how to live together or compromise or share.

But we were really, really good at fighting.

It takes passion and motivation to wreak the kind of destruction we visited upon each other. And in the end, the relationship crumbled under the weight of the damage we inflicted.

My second marriage was a long (19 years) and for most of those years, a happy one. We built a business, made and raised two extraordinary children, cultivated wonderful friends and created lovely homes. But, during our years together, we never worked very hard at being a couple. We seemed to have everything, but we never really figured out how to build a life for just the two of us. By the time the business was sold and the children were launched, we really didn’t have much in common. And we never found a way to get back to each other.

So, yes, you could say I’m a two time loser. But lately, as I plan for my daughter’s wedding and think about what I can tell her to make her own way a little easier, I’ve had a chance to reflect on my past, to try and tease out what went wrong so I can help her learn from my mistakes.

Here is what surprised me. Try as I might, I can’t bring myself to say either of my marriages was a failure. I was lucky enough to have married two extraordinary men. I am better in every way for having them in my life. In both cases, for very different reasons, I chose well.

If I have one regret, from either of these relationships, it’s that early on, I didn’t try harder. I wish, from the beginning, I had treated my husbands more like I have treated my children - with truly unconditional love, with endless second (and third and fourth) chances, with total acceptance and boundless tolerance.

So, while I am loath to claim any superior matrimonial knowledge, here is my advice to my daughter: From the very first day, when things get tough, try harder. Make it work. Plan for forever. Take every chance to get closer to your husband. Do not neglect your relationship, especially after you have children. Remember that after they’re gone, and believe me this happens sooner than you can ever imagine, it will be just the two of you again.

There is no greater accomplishment than a successful, happy marriage. And, if you ask me, no greater aspiration.

The more I see of man, the more I like dogs.  ~Mme. de Staël

When I lost my sweet little Canine-American companion, Meggy, three years ago, I thought it would take years for me to even consider getting another dog. Meggy was unique, for her breed and for her species. She was quiet and dignified, calm and oddly aloof, a woman of extremely discerning tastes in people and other dogs. Meggy did not suffer fools gladly. She had a great 15-year run and I was heartbroken when she died.

Meggy and me.

I mourned her for over a year and told myself that a new puppy was out of the question. Work, family and friends kept me in a state of perpetual motion, a state that left little time for doggie lust.

Then the siren song of online puppy porn called to me, luring me with its irresistible pictures of cocked heads, large eyes and tiny paws. Without much thought I signed up at a Yorkshire Terrier rescue site. That was the beginning of the end. Because the rescue people never got back to me, but I had opened the door and stepped through to the dog side.

I am living proof that people are attracted to dogs they most resemble. Could I be any more of a cliche? Like the Yorkshire terrier breed in general, I am compact, stubborn, focused, and demanding. We share other characteristics as well. We’re both independent, feisty, and high energy. Yorkies are can be bossy and single-minded. Me too. I even have Yorkie-colored hair. In spite of, or maybe because of, some of their more challenging characteristics, it is a simple fact that God loves a terrier. And so do I.

And so, fully aware that these dogs are also known as Yorkshire Terrorists, I continued to troll online for my perfect pooch. When I saw this picture on line, I knew I had to drive to Skowhegan, Maine get that little man.

And, reader, get him I did. As well as his brother.

As we crossed the line into Cape Elizabeth, T-Bone and Dunkin became Murphy and Duncan. And we became a family.

We’ve had our challenges, my boys and I. At six months Duncan was diagnosed with an anomoly called atlantoaxial luxation. His prognosis was grim, with little hope offered by the veterinary neurologist.

Evidently, Duncan did not get the memo. He seems to be thriving with no real medical intervention. Every day with him is a gift. He is, however, kind of a pain in the ass. And I mean that in the most loving way. His brother, sweeter and more social, is also no day at the beach. Their presence belies a combined weight of just over 10 pounds.

As they approach their second birthday, I cannot imagine life without them. And so I share with you a pictorial history of the men in my life.

Duncan & Murphy - the early days.

You know if you touch my hot dog I have to kill you, right?

Duncan is always cold, hence the outerwear inside.

Murphy is ever on the alert for bad guys.

Halloween. Let the rejoicing commence.

Snaggle-Tooth and Smiley enjoying a little porch time.

Let it be known throughout the land, the boys love their toys.

The happy couple.

My daughter and her fiance are getting married in October. This is an occasion for much joy and celebration. The groom is a wonder: smart and sweet, hardworking and easy on the eyes. They are great as a couple and I take enormous pride in the fact that I introduced them. The engagement has been a source of happiness for them and for their families. I want their wedding to be the happiest day of their lives, the perfect first day of their journey as husband and wife. While the undertaking is a noble one, there are days when it feels like a mission of Herculean proportions. As the Mother Of the Bride, I feel responsible for making this a day that will live on as a happy memory for all who attend. There are times — and these times have really surprised me — when I wonder if I’m up to the task.

Don’t get me wrong. I love, love, love throwing parties - the bigger, the better. I do this often and with gusto. If I have my way — and I usually do — this will be an amazing party, a fete to go down in history. But weddings, I am finding out, come with a unique and arcane set of challenges. It’s enough to make me shout: Man Over Board and then jump in to join him.

Cape Elizabeth, Maine.

The groom is Catching a Piece of Maine

The bride is flipping a piece of Maine

Let’s start with the guest list. It seems to grow and morph daily, each permutation representing the potential for discord. The groom comes from a large, close extended family and has an impressive group of friends. He has lived in our town his entire life. He is a well-known local business owner. The bride’s circle is somewhat smaller, but no less complicated. Both families have been expanded, and are a skosh more awkward by virtue of the detritus that comes with divorce. Exes and currents and special friends…Oh my! The bride, who also owns her own small business, has friends coming from around the country. The seating chart alone will present Massive Opportunity for Bedlam. The major players are already Making Open Bets about wedding related contretemps.

The Black Point Inn

What was initially conceived as a small, casual, backyard affair, has morphed into a magical wedding weekend. As the numbers grew, the event was relocated to a local inn, where, for two nights, the wedding party and out-of-town guests will take over the entire place. The inn is old and charming with sweeping views of the Atlantic. Early October, the height of Maine fall foliage, will showcase New England’s glorious autumnal extravaganza. Mother Nature will be in charge of exterior decor.  Good weather or bad, we’ve got it covered. If it’s a fair day, the wedding will take place outside with panoramic ocean vistas in the background. Should a Nor’easter hit, we can move the whole thing inside in front of a roaring fire. In any event, the occasion will definitely require Many Open Bars.

This looks just like “Little Mel,” my first car.

There is no doubt that wedding planning can be stressful, but so far, we’ve been lucky. The bride has been an absolute dream. After a half-hearted attempt at trying on dresses in Boston - yes, we made the requisite pilgrimage to Priscilla of Boston - she flew to New York, grabbed her Bestie and Maid of Honor and headed straight to Vera Wang. There, in a matter of minutes, she found and purchased a dress that cost exactly twice as much as my first car. The dress was the first of many indications that this event, while joyous, was headed to the land of Mostly Over Budget.

Flora Home. Each bouquet is a work of art.

For the most part, the details are falling into place with a surprising lack stress and confusion. This is due largely to the disposition of the bride and the help of my incredible baby sister, the talented event planner Stephanie Pilk of Flora Home Studio. Venue? Check. Flowers? Check. Photographer? Check. Food? Check. Music? Check? Guest list finalized? Check-ish. I’d say we have Many Obstacles Behind us.

The bride, as is her habit, has kept a cool head. Her laid-back approach to the nuptials has made me appreciate her basic character and essential good nature. Is she complicated and quirky and just a little prickly? Definitely. But combine those qualities with a wicked sense of humor and a biting wit, and I have come to realize, she is the perfect person to go through this truly bizarre experience with. All I can say is that planning a wedding, at least for this Bride and MOB have been a Major Opportunity for Bonding.

The Bride and her (very proud) mother.

The fabulous and inimitable Miss Kitty Bradshaw decided to celebrate the second anniversary of her blog by inviting 200 or so of her closest, and coolest, social media friends to a party. So when the invitation came, I could hardly say no. I hopped on a plane trailing my New York finery and prepared to be wildly entertained.

And, as usual, I was not disappointed. I arrived early…much earlier than our hostess so I could take a few pictures and check out the venue. The party was in the Fashion District at the gorgeous Apart Showroom which was spare and sleek, all brick and shiny surfaces. Samples of their fall line were on mannequins and lovely models around the room.

Melissa Diner, a sales executive at Apart, and her inanimate friends wearing pieces from Apart’s fall line.

Some people had more fun than others at the party.

I discovered that all the proceeds from the party were going to benefit the Lower Eastside Service Center, whose motto is “Helping Recovery Become Reality.” Peter Santoro, Director of Development for LESC and I discussed the many benefits of using social media to help raise the profile and efficacy of non-profits.

Valerie Walters, VP of Human Resources at LESC, & Stephanie Cipriani of LESC’s Angel Street Thrift Shop

One of the first bloggers I ran into was the utterly adorable and multi-talented Stevie, who in addition to writing his blog, stevienyc.com, is an event host and web personality and designer at Equali-Tee.com. Equali-Tee designed the official NYC Pride 2010 T-Shirt!

StevieNYC!

At no time during the evening could you miss that this was a social media party. There was texting and Tweeting and blogging and gowallaing and foursquaring and, well, you get the picture. If not, I got the pictures for you…

Texting and…

Tweeting and…

Blogging and…

Foursquaring and…

Well, you get the picture.

Kitty, who knows how to make an entrance, arrived fashionably late, but looking stunning in a lemon yellow fitted dress and bright red stilettos. I suspect the amazing footwear was from one of the event sponsors, Nina shoes. Nina had an incredible display of their fall line and a few select pieces from the Spring 2011 collection.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you…Miss Kitty Bradshaw!

Such beautiful shoes courtesy of NINA.

The food and drink sponsors, including my own Cabot Creamery, added to the evening’s festive spirit. Cabot supplied plenty of Kitty’s favorite Horseradish Cheddar as well as other cheddars for sampling. Tonnie’s Mini’s provided the world’s most delicious tiny cupcakes, perfect little bite-sized puffs of awesomeness. And Smirnoff Vodka made sure there were signature cocktails for a grateful crowd.

Cabot Horseradish Cheddar & Smirnoff signature cocktails, yummmmm!

And for a sweet, a Red Velvet mini cupcake that would make you weep.

Let me just tell you, there were a lot of beautiful bloggers and media glitterati at the party. You couldn’t point and shoot without getting a picture of someone cool…or hot!

Producer Hassan Heyward and Broadcast Journalist Meagan Williams

Patrice Williams (wearing Apart) who writes the blog Living Fly on a Dime

Terrell Blair of BookBanditz.com

A bevy of beautiful bloggers.

In the end, it was a joyous evening that benefitted a great cause, celebrated a much loved on-line celebrity and helped promote the social media ethos. I look forward to seeing the work of the many great bloggers I met and reconnected with.

And I can’t wait for the next Kitty Bradshaw extravaganza!

This week’s CSA farm share included a cornucopia of produce. Since this is my first farm share experience, I am still getting used to the immediate creativity required to do justice to the gorgeous array of vegetables and fruits that I brought home with me. Here’s a recap of what was included in this week’s share:

1 quart of strawberries

1 bunch of spinach

3 beets with lots of beet greens

1 small bunch of radishes

1 huge head of bok choy

1 container of mixed peas

1 head of lettuce

2 garlic scapes

So here’s what I decided to do…

First, I washed everything and put a bowl of strawberries out for everyone to nibble as the day went by.

Then, I began the preparing and chopping phase.

On deck, Roasted Rosemary Beets.

For this dish, I removed the beet greens from the beet, then washed and cleaned them both. I placed the beets on a large square of aluminum foil, drizzled them generously with extra virgin olive oil, added Maine sea salt and coarse ground pepper, and closed them into the foil. I put them in my toaster oven at 350º and let them cook for 30 -40 minutes - more or less depending on the size of the beets. After they had cooled to the touch, I peeled them and began to prepare the beet greens.

I stripped the leaves from the tough red stems and tore them into bite sized pieces. Next, I took the olive oil from the cooked beets (there was about a tablespoon in the foil package after the beets were cooked) which was now infused with lovely red beet juice and the scent of rosemary, and heated it in a large skillet. I added a splash more oil to cover the bottom of the pan. When the oil was shimmering, I dropped in a clove of finely minced garlic, which immediately turned deep red. After about 30 seconds, I added the greens, tossed them in the garlic and oil and cooked over a medium heat until they were wilted and soft, about 2-3 minutes.

I plated the cooked greens with a tiny cairn of beets and a wedge of Humboldt Fog, a tangy, ripened chevre that pairs nicely with the beets.

Roasted Rosemary Beets on a Bed of Garlic Beet Greens with Humboldt Fog Chevre.

Next up, Radish, Snow Pea and Bok Choy Slaw with Lemon Vinaigrette. I julienned the radishes, cut the snow peas on the diagonal into half inch strips, and shredded the inner most leaves of the bok choy, leaving the larger, darker green leaves for my next dish. I added a handful of julienned carrots for more color. For the vinaigrette I mixed the juice of one medium lemon, two tables of rice wine vinegar, and three tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil. I tossed the slaw with the dressing with a handful of chopped cilantro and served on a few of the innermost, pale green bok choy leaves.

Radish, Snow Pea & Bok Choy Slaw with Lemon Vinaigrette

The final dish of the evening was Bok Choy and Snap Peas in Scented Broth. Because I always have homemade chicken stock in my freezer, I brought some out as a base for this Asian-inspired dish. I thawed about 3 cups of stock into which I added one clove of minced garlic, about a teaspoon of minced ginger, a tablespoon of low-sodium soy sauce, and a few shakes from a bottle of Sriracha Hot Chili Sauce. This is a Thai sauce made of chili peppers, vinegar, garlic, sugar and salt and, depending on how much you use, imparts a mellow heat when added as a condiment.

When the broth had simmered for about a half hour, I added chopped bok choy and the snap peas, which my fancy friends call mangetout. I let these simmer for about five minutes and served while the vegetables were still crisp but tender and infused with the flavors in the broth.

Bok Choy & Snap Peas in Scented Broth

I saved the spinach for omelets the next morning, and the lettuce for salad at dinner. The garlic scapes will be added to my next pesto. And so, without too much effort, this week’s farm share has disappeared before my eyes.

Wonder what we’ll get next week…

Photo courtesy of Broadturn Farm

I grew up in a home where vegetables came from a can, or in a pinch, the freezer section of the supermarket. There may have been the occasional visit to a summer farm stand for tomatoes, but for the most part, farming was a distant and indistinct concept removed from my personal reality. During my years as a young professional in Los Angeles and Washington DC, this distance was even more pronounced.

Moving to Maine in the early 90s put me much closer to my food supply. I live less than a mile from three different working farms. There are farm stands in my town open six months a year. The neighborhood grocery store stocks local produce from May through November. My daughter is engaged to a lobsterman. Farmers’ markets abound.

And for the first time, this summer I signed up for a Community Support Agriculture (CSA) farm share. Localharvest.org has a CSA finder on their website that can help you find a CSA almost anywhere in the US. A farm share is a great way to introduce your family to the concept of eating locally. Here, from Local Harvest, whose motto is Real food. Real farmers. Real Community, are a few of the advantages of buying a farm share from a CSA farm near you:

“Advantages for farmers:

• Get to spend time marketing the food early in the year, before their 16 hour days in the field begin
• Receive payment early in the season, which helps with the farm’s cash flow
• Have an opportunity to get to know the people who eat the food they grow”

“Advantages for consumers:

• Eat ultra-fresh food, with all the flavor and vitamin benefits
• Get exposed to new vegetables and new ways of cooking
• Usually get to visit the farm at least once a season
• Find that kids typically favor food from “their” farm – even veggies they’ve never been known to eat
• Develop a relationship with the farmer who grows their food and learn more about how food is grown”

I decided to buy a fruit and vegetable farm share at Broadturn Farm in Scarborough, Maine. The farm also sells flower shares, has “pick your own” strawberry fields, and hosts and caters weddings and events.

In the interest of saving time and gas, I also joined a pickup group with two other families in my town. We alternate picking up the weekly shares each Friday. This week was my turn, so I brought my camera, three big canvas bags and headed out to the farm!

Pulling into the dirt road, I was surrounded by 200 acres of fields and woods.

As I head to the farmhouse, I see tiny cottages tucked into the woods.

The first person I met was Samantha, busy at work.

Stacy Brenner greeted me at the barn. She and her partner, John Bliss, run Broadturn farm while raising daughters Emma (14) and Flora (3 1/2). You can read their blog here.

Flora and her friend Briis helped me pick out the weekly offerings which included lettuce, radishes, garlic scapes, beets, bok choy, peas, spinach and strawberries.

Flowers, even edible flowers like Nasturtiums (above), are everywhere around the farm.

All God’s children, even his eight-legged ones, are at home on the farm.

Lots of early summer activity in the greenhouse.

Time to deliver the shares to my neighbors.

Home with the bounty of the week.

My first trip to the farm is under my belt. Next step - cooking up a storm. If you want to know more about Broadturn Farm or have more questions about CSAs and farm shares, check out the FAQ page on their website.

This particular reunion was billed as a 60th birthday party for the members of the Thomas Jefferson High School Class of ’68 but opened to members of the surrounding classes as well. I went with my sister, Roberta Pilk MacDonald and her classmate, Anne Miller Wotring. Their high school friendship was rekindled at an earlier reunion and years later has morphed into a working relationship.

We looked a little like stalkers as we took pics in front of the former Pilk Family palace.

Anne Miller Wotring and Roberta Pilk MacDonald bask in the shadow of the former Miller manse. Law enforcement was about to be called.

Taking a circuitous route to the party, a stroll down memory lane, we made stops at old haunts and photo opportunities at the houses we once made a habit of sneaking out of. Tales of bad dates and madcap hijinks were told; names were named, ancient gossip resurrected.

Giddy on remembrance of things past.

Some things don’t change. There was a crowd in the parking lot, exchanging greetings and beginning the process of reconnecting, but it also looked like some of us were stalling a bit before going in, reminding me that 16 or 60, pre-party jitters do not recognize age or maturity.

“Candee, is that you?”

Girding my loins and sticking a name tag the bodice of a dress I had spent hours choosing, I entered the fray. (An aside: I wonder why women put up with having to wear name tags in a place that gives men a socially acceptable pass to check out the goods. At length.) Upon entering, I was stopped dead in my tracks by a voice that called out “Candee!”

I haven’t been called Candee in almost 40 years. I put an end to the nickname bestowed upon me at birth on the day I arrived at college. I knew then that such a name, winsome and perfectly suited for a tiny girl with big eyes, would sound faintly ridiculous and rob me of a certain amount of gravitas as a grown woman. Candee Pilk is a name that works for a stripper or a 1-900 companionship provider. For a CEO or a Board Chair? Not so much. Candee was therefore relegated to the past as Candace went about the business of becoming an adult. But here in a suburban church hall those two short syllables sent me spiraling back almost 40 years. Feeling like a time traveler, I found myself in a room where everyone only ever knew me by my childhood name. For one night, Candee was reborn, leaving me feeling displaced from my own skin.

Wait, wait, don’t tell me…

One thing I can confidently say about reunions, unhappy and unsuccessful people are not likely to show up. They attract a self-selecting group that skews to folks who are reasonably secure, extroverted, and generally satisfied with life. This group was no exception. In spite of the fact that people were talking about adult children, new grandchildren, retirement plans, and AARP membership, there was a decidedly youthful vibe in the air, which fairly crackled with energy and enthusiasm.

Now…

…and then.

As the evening dropped into gear,  a kick-ass rock and roll band, comprised of former classmates relieved us of the burden and embarrassment of not remembering names and faces by playing at top volume. Dancing, the universal language of joy, took over where speech fell short. And like most high school parties, then and now, there was a noticeable gender divide. The women gathered together on one side, unselfconsciously dancing, laughing and singing along with the perfectly executed soundtrack of our youth. Across the room the men made desultory attempts at small talk, smiling indulgently at wives, partners, and old friends.

Louie Louie, oh no, me gotta go, aye-yi-yi-yi

In true social hall fashion, there were party snacks and cake. The (now-legal) adult beverages were strictly BYOB. And believe me, now as then, there appeared to be no shortage of that second “B.” Chatting, catching up, drinking, dancing, and eating. It was just like a wedding or a bar mitzvah except everyone at this party was the same age. I wondered why I had gotten so wound up about the prospect of this evening.

At some point, as if by telepathy, our trio agreed that it was time to go.  Leaving on a high note as the party was in full swing left us with memories of friends and days gone by refreshed, but not overworked. We left before we lost the magic that originally bound us to these people and that had once again brought us together.

The reunion ultimately became journey of self-discovery and, in a way, of redemption. In the intervening decades my time in high school had coalesced as an indistinct, but somehow naggingly unhappy, memory. Spending a few hours with some engaging, congenial strangers made me realize that we passed those distant years in individual, self-generated bubbles. In that isolation we created the amorphous facades that would eventually harden and set as we became actual people. We were children with crude tools and limited social skills playing at being adults. To varying degrees we were all clumsy and awkward,  trying our best but rarely getting it right. Our bubbles orbited the school, sometimes touching gently and other times colliding with a damaging intensity. High school was real life with training wheels, allowing us to make mistakes whose consequences were instructional in nature and rarely life-threatening.

In the end, the reunion allowed me to let go of the confusion and hurt, salvage the lessons learned and cherish the handful of very real relationships that have withstood time and distance. More important was my ability to appreciate how fortune has blessed me in the form of my sister. A paragon of popularity and beauty in high school, she has evolved into a complex, compassionate, compelling person who is my friend and my mentor. How lucky that we could make this journey together. And really, is there anyone in the world better than a sister to share post-reunion dish with?

I don’t think so.