Foodie at the Farmers’ Market What’s cooking? Ground Cherry Shazam

Every once in a while, a new fruit or vegetable shows up at my farmers’ market, issuing a siren call of sorts to people like me who are intrigued with the unusual taste or texture, to see what can be made of these foods. The latest to appear in our New Jersey market was ground cherries. Not ground-up cherries, mind you, but ground cherries, which are closely related to tomatillos. In fact, in their paper-lantern shells, ground cherries look like miniature versions of tomatillos.

The taste, however, is nothing like tomatillos. They’re sweet-tart, with a flavor many think reminds them of pineapple. Not me. To me, it’s a more mysterious flavor – think tomato crossed with melon. The berries, known also as Cape gooseberries, reach about a half-inch in diameter, and are yellow to bright orange, with numerous seeds like tomatoes.

They’re wonderful in fruit salads, pies, tarts, and jam. I first had them in Portugal, where they were served as a garnish with dessert, husks pulled back like leaves and berries dipped in a micro-thin candy coating. They’re also delicious pulled straight from their husks.

I was aiming for jam when I started this project, but it never set (gelled). I asked a friend who’s a pro at jams and jellies if she thought I should re-boil it. “No,” she said. “I’d just call it syrup.” But it’s thicker than syrup, yet thinner than jam. I call it Shazam. When you taste it, you’ll know it’s the perfect name.

Ground Cherry Shazam on yogurt.

What can you do with Shazam?

■ Spoon it over fresh goat cheese as an appetizer with crackers;
■ Stir it into Greek yogurt for breakfast or dessert;
■ Spread it on toast; or
■ Drizzle it as a glaze over chicken or pork before baking.

Use your imagination. I’m saving some jars of it to give as Christmas gifts if I don’t eat it all first. And if you don’t want to make so much – or shell so many ground cherries – this recipe is easily halved.

Ground Cherry Shazam on crostini with hummus.

Ground Cherry Shazam

Makes 5 half-pint jars.

36 ounces husked ground cherries (from 6 pint baskets)
4½ tablespoons lemon juice (about 2 lemons), plus 2 long, inch-wide strips of lemon zest
3 cups sugar
2 large sprigs thyme
2 tablespoons Domaine De Canton French Ginger Liqueur (optional)

In a large, heavy-bottomed stainless steel pan or an enameled cast iron pot (I use a 5.5-quart Le Creuset French oven), combine the ground cherries, the lemon juice, and the sugar. Heat, stirring frequently, until the sugar has completely dissolved. Place a round of parchment paper on top of the mixture to keep a skin from forming, cover the pot, and refrigerate 8 hours or overnight.

The next day, remove the parchment paper, place the pan over medium high heat, and bring the mixture to a rapid boil. Continue to boil the mixture for 15-20 minutes.

In the meantime, place a small plate in the freezer. After 10 minutes, test for the preserves to set by dribbling a spoonful onto the frozen plate and let it sit back in the freezer 2 minutes. If it turns into a soft get that moves only slightly when you tip the plate, the jam is set. Remove the mixture from the heat. If after 20 minutes, the jam still doesn’t appear to be setting, remove it from the heat anyhow. (Now you, too, have shazam!)

Stir the thyme and lemon rind into the mix and cover the pot. Let the preserves steep for 5-10 minutes, then remove the thyme and the lemon zest and stir in the liqueur if using. I take a potato masher at this point and smash about half the fruit – I like the look of the tiny seeds and the variations in texture.

Ladle the shazam (or jam) into clean Ball jars. Store in the fridge or process as for preserves.

Celebrating the Goldilocks Season What’s cooking? Sunny Plumcot Sorbet and Lemon-Basil Butter Cookies

The Kitchen Goddess has been in Texas for a week, grappling with AT&T for a new modem because the house is too far away from the signal source to get U-verse. No internet, no blog. Grrr... I’m making up for that absence with TWO fine recipes that go together like, well,... cookies and fruit.

Now is the sweet spot of summer, when it’s not too hot and not too cold. So before we begin the great kitchen migration to soups and stews, lentils and lasagna, let us pause a moment for a final summer sorbet. And perhaps some cookies.

Not long ago, one of the stalls at my farmers’ market showed up with the loveliest little plums. Shiro plums, they said. Small, pale yellow orbs that turned out to be as juicy and delicious as they were beautiful. I bought a couple of boxes and made sorbet. It was so good, I wouldn’t let anyone else have it. Well, almost anyone else.

The next week, I went back to the same stall to get more so I could tell you all about them.

“They’re gone?!!” I said. “How can they be all gone? They just appeared last week!”

“I know,” said my friend manning the cash register. (I’ve become very chummy with many of these folks.) “But the crop this year was small. That’s the way it is with these trees – big crop one year, small crop the next. We’ll have lots next year.”

So now I’m waiting already for next year’s crop. Late July, early August – watch out for them.

Then by a stroke of luck, just this past week, I happened upon some greenish-gold plumcots at the grocery store. Larger and more heart-shaped than the Shiro plums, plumcots are a 50-50 cross between plums and apricots. (Okay, so it’s obvious.) But I’ll bet you didn’t know they were originally developed – and named – by Luther Burbank in the late 19th century. With the current fascination surrounding all things oddball from the food world, hybrids like plumcots are finally gaining some traction. Luther would be so pleased. Also apriplums, which are similarly 50-50 but developed through a different process. And pluots, which are a cross between a plumcot and an apricot and come closer to a 75-25 ratio of plum to apricot. Confusing? You bet. They all have a higher sugar content than plums, which means they’re slightly less tart. But I digress.

My research reveals an astonishing number of varieties of plumcots, with names like Harvest Gold, Emerald Beaut, Tropical Sunrise, Flavor Grenade, and Flavor Queen. The yellow, yellow-green, and green varieties appear to be the mildest and sweetest, so whatever you find at your grocery will likely do. And the really good news is that the flavor of my plumcot sorbet was almost identical to the Shiro plum sorbet.

Sorbet is soooo easy. I probably could have peeled the plumcots and just pureed the flesh, but I wanted the tiny extra tartness that comes from the skin, so I stewed them for 15-20 minutes. And instead of simple syrup, I added a mild version of minted simple syrup – the mint isn’t really noticeable, but it brings out the flavor of the plumcots in a way that is just magical. Sun on the tongue.

Sunny Plumcot Sorbet

Makes 1 quart.

1-1¼ pounds yellow or yellow-green or green plumcots
juice of 1 lemon (about 2 tablespoons)**
1 cup sugar
1 cup mint, chopped

Seed the plumcots and cut them into eighths. Put them into a large saucepan with the lemon juice and bring to a low boil. Cook 15-20 minutes on low boil, stirring occasionally to keep the fruit from sticking to the bottom of the pan. When all the fruit is soft, remove from heat and allow to cool to room temperature.

While the fruit is stewing, make the minted simple syrup. In a small saucepan, combine the sugar with 1 cup water and bring to a boil, stirring only until the sugar is dissolved. Stir in the chopped mint and let the syrup simmer undisturbed for 2 minutes. Remove the mint by pouring the syrup through a strainer into a heat-proof container, and allow it to cool to room temperature.

Put the stewed plumcots into a blender with 6 tablespoons of the minted simple syrup. (Save the rest for tea or your next batch of plumcot sorbet.) Purée 1 minute or until smooth. Process in your ice cream machine according to manufacturer’s directions.

**Serendipity is aimlessly wandering the produce aisle and finding these completely adorable pink variegated lemons. The equivalent taste in the wine world is that of a really good rosé – not actually sweet, but without the tang of a regular lemon. How can I say this? It tastes a little pink.

* * *

Don’t forget the cookies...

Having no garden in New Jersey, I was easily seduced by a giant bunch of basil at the market. I could make pesto, but desperately wanted some new idea. Basil sugar? I found a recipe for minted sugar, which is wonderful in iced tea or on fruit, then decided to try the technique with basil. Whoo-ee – a treat for the tongue and the nose. But what to do with a jar full of basil sugar? How about basil sugar cookies? Yes, sirree, they are mighty fine, if I do say so myself. Save some of the basil sugar for dusting on top of the little darlings, and serve them with ice cream, sorbet, pudding, or fruit. If you’re serving fruit, sprinkle a bit of basil sugar on it, too.

Lemon-Basil Butter Cookies

Makes 3 dozen.

1 cup + ¼ cup sugar
½ cup basil leaves, packed
6 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons Crisco
zest of one lemon
1½ teaspoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 large egg
1¼ cup flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
½ teaspoon salt

Make the basil sugar by combining 1 cup sugar with the basil in the bowl of a food processor and pulse until well combined and no large pieces of basil remain. Store in a jar in a cool, dark place for 30 minutes to an hour, to allow the flavors to mix.

Cream the butter and Crisco together until well mixed, then add  ¾ cup basil sugar (packed) and the remaining ¼ cup plain sugar and beat until light and fluffy, 4-5 minutes. Add the lemon zest, the lemon juice, the vanilla, and the egg, beating well after each.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt, and add to the wet ingredients at low speed until blended, scraping down the bowl once or twice with a spatula. Cover the dough with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least an hour.

Scoop dough to form balls 1½-2 inches in diameter, and place at least 2 inches apart on cookie sheets lined with baker’s parchment. Bake at 375º for 10-11 minutes, depending on how soft you like the insides. When cookies come out of the oven, dust with remaining basil sugar while they’re hot, and transfer to wire racks to cool completely. Store in airtight container.

And the winner is... What’s cooking? Italian Plum Ketchup

I couldn’t get any of the national accounting firms to come over for the drawing, so in the interest of ethical independence, my friend, Gusty Scattergood – who is also the author of the award-winning YA novel, Glory Be – came over yesterday to pull a name out of the bowl. The winner of the drawing for the Hamilton Beach Breakfast Sandwich Maker is... (drum roll, please):

I wish I had enough of those Breakfast Sandwich Makers to give one to each of you, but alas... You can, however, get one online or in many stores. For a start, I found them at Target, Bed Bath & Beyond, and amazon.com.

So for everyone else, today’s prize will have to be a different kind of treat – one that will also last quite a while, just not as long as an appliance.

One of the great late summer arrivals at the farmers’ market is a crop of Italian prune plums. Most of the plums you get at the grocery store are fat and round; these are more egg-shaped, and wear a beautiful powdery blue-purple skin – the color of royalty, which may explain why they’re also known as Empress plums. They have a wonderful sweet-tart taste, though the juice won’t dribble down your chin the way it does with the fat, round varieties.