Fennel and Beet Salad and the End of Summer

I know. I know. It looks like Christmas. In September. What with the candy-cane striped beets and the green of the scallions.

But if you squint your eyes a little it still looks like summer. Right? Imagine the beets are the seersucker stripes of a bright beach umbrella and the green is the soft green of oceanside grasses rippling in the breeze.

I can't help but smile when I cut into one of these striped beets. They look so joyful and festive. They just beg to be included in a salad. Too bad they lose that gorgeous colour when cooked.

Summer is ending, even here in the north where everything is later. The garden is already well past its glorious prime and the nights are getting colder. We listen for the first frost warnings. Will we have to rush out to cover the tomatoes tonight?

My kitchen counters are crowded with bowls of cucumbers, tomatoes, and a few monstrous zucchinis, all waiting hopefully to be included in the next meal or put up in jars for the winter. The fruit flies are having a circus, hovering over the bounty and hiding out from the cool nights outside.

We had a glorious holiday, Raymond, I, Andreas and my mom, doing a road trip to Vancouver, down the Oregon coast, San Francisco, Napa Valley and back home through Nevada, Idaho and Montana.

Every minute was full of new things to see and do. I love those kinds of holidays. Along the coastal highway we explored beaches and marveled at the ancient redwoods.

In San Francisco we walked and walked. Did all the touristy things.Marvelled at the beautiful buildings. In the Napa Valley we found the sun, and wine-tasted in some spectacular settings. In Nevada we lamented the miles and miles of sage and rock. All wonderful.

But I think the highlight for me was a three-hour period. An evening cooking class that Raymond surprised me with for my birthday in San Francisco. (When did he get so smart?)

What an amazing evening if you are an addicted foodie and cookbook collector. (Cough, cough. Me?)

Our lively and talented instructor, Emily, of first class cooking taught me and my fellow students all kinds of wonderful kitchen tricks, as we prepared a tomato and peach Caprese salad, pistachio crusted snapper, quinoa salad and baked plums with almond macaroons. All in her beautiful apartment with a San Fransisco city view through her glorious floor to ceiling windows. And then we got to sit and share the meal. Heaven, Nirvana, Himmel.

And now we're home again, with the memories and photos to relive the many amazing things we saw and did.

                                                    

 

   

Home again.

With a lovely bag of fennel that a friend dropped off from her garden. (Thanks, Ronaye.)

                So while I shave the fennel, I think back on my travels and dream of the next ones.

I love the slight licorice flavour of fennel and wanted to amp that up by adding the ground anise and anise seeds to add more layers of flavour. If you don't have both, just use a bit more of whichever one you have, or leave them out altogether. Or replace them with less assertive poppyseeds. Still good.

I often use extra virgin olive oil in salads, however, I like to use neutral-flavoured grapeseed oil in dressings when I want the oil to take a backseat to other flavours, like in this one. 

Fennel and Beet Salad

1 medium fennel bulb, about 1 lb (450 gm)

2 medium striped (or regular) beets, about 4 oz. (115gm)

3 green onions (scallions)

Dressing:

2 Tbsp (30ml) freshly squeezed lime juice (1/2 a large juicy lime)

1/4 cup (60ml) grapeseed oil

1/2 (5ml) tsp ground anise seed

1 tsp (5ml) whole anise seeds

1 tsp (5ml) dijon mustard

1/4 tsp (2.5ml) sea salt

1/4 tsp (2.5ml) pepper

Cut the fennel bulb in half, then slice it thinly with a knife, turning the bulb as you slice so that you have relatively even shards.

Cut the tops and roots off the beets and peel any toughened bits from the skin.  Slice the beets very thinly on a mandoline, then stack several slices at a time together on a cutting board and slice them into pencil-wide strips. (If you are using regular beets, put the slices into a seive and rinse them well under cold running to remove any of the juices that may stain the fennel. Shake the seive and let them drain until almost dry. This makes the salad look less pink. If you are lucky enough to get a hold of the striped beets you can skip this step.)

Slice the green onions finely. Put the vegetables into a bowl and prepare the dressing.

Lightly crush the fennel seeds in a mortar and pestle to release some of their aromatic oils. Place all the dressing ingredients in a small jar and shake vigorously to combine. (The dressing can be prepared ahead of time to allow the flavours to blend and the fennel seeds to soften a bit, but it is also fine prepared just before serving.

Pour the dressing over the vegetables and toss gently to keep the beets' colour from bleeding.

Garnish with some bits of fennel fronds.

Serves 4 to 6.

                                            

Sauerkraut Potato Salad for Barbecue Season

If you're a German you gotta love sauerkraut. That's just how it is.

But you take it for granted.

I grew up helping my mom shred and pound crocks full of the stuff every fall and never paid much attention to it. In fact, I groaned severely if I had to lend a sauerkraut-making hand when I'd rather be out with my friends, or reading in my room...or even cleaning my room.

I stepped around the bubbling, fermenting crocks of it, and other lacto-fermented vegetables, like pickles, green tomatoes and even apples, when I snuck down to the cold room to find the treats or pop that were sometimes stashed there. I rolled my eyes and apologized when I brought friends home after school and smelled the tangy cabbage aroma wafting from the kitchen (even though it made my mouth water). I ate my mom's delicious sauerkraut simmered with smoked pig skin, her addictive sauerkraut salad, and our favourite sauerkraut-and-prune-stuffed Christmas goose, without really thinking about them.

And the health benefits of fresh raw sauerkraut? Who cared? 
(There's an old saying that if the Germans ate as much sauerkraut as the French think they do, there'd be no disease in Germany.)

For many years after I had my own family, I received my yearly supply of canned or frozen sauerkraut from my mom every fall without much real appreciation for the gift I was getting. Yes, I liked it, and it was a handy quick side-dish for sausages on  the days when I forgot to take dinner out of the freezer. And when I was pregnant I once ate a whole quart of it - cold, with a fork, and straight from the jar. (What can I say about pregnant women and their cravings? -Except that maybe a whole jar of sauerkraut isn't the smartest idea.)

It isn't really until the last few years that I have truly begun to appreciate it. And last fall, under my mother's guidance, I made my first batch myself. I brought the 5-gallon pail of sauerkraut home the 8-hour drive from my parents' place and rinsed and nurtured it until the day we could have our own first taste.

I think I'm hooked.

Where has it been my whole life?



Now I enjoy finding new ways to use it. This week I had a bag of sauerkraut defrosting and I was thinking of potato salad, when the two melded in my mind and this dish was born.


It was an immediate hit.

It was even better this morning for breakfast.







Sauerkraut Potato Salad
(I love the taste of caraway seeds, having grown up with them in my mom's homemade rye or whole wheat bread, but if you don't, try using mustard seeds.)

2 lbs (1 kg) small potatoes
1 1/2 cups (325 ml) drained sauerkraut (save the juice)
2 tsp (10 ml) caraway seeds
1/4 cup (60 ml) grapeseed oil
1 tsp dijon mustard
1/2 cup (125 ml) sliced chives or green onions
1/2 tsp (2.5 ml) coarsely ground black pepper
3 Tbsp (45 ml) reserved sauerkraut juice


Steam the potatoes in a steamer basket, or steamer insert in a pot, until they are just tender.

While the potatoes are steaming, plunk the pile of sauerkraut onto a cutting board and chop it roughly so there are no long strands. (Don't go crazy and chop it too fine - just a series of slices 1/2 inch apart horizontally, then vertically). Put it into a large bowl and toss it with the grapeseed oil, dijon mustard  and caraway seeds. Leave it to sit until the potatoes are finished steaming, so the caraway seeds can soften a bit and release their flavour.

Cut the cooked, potatoes into quarters or halves, depending on their size, and gently toss them, while still hot, with the sauerkraut mixture. This allows them to absorb more of the flavour.

Sprinkle with the chives, pepper and reserved sauerkraut juice, then toss gently once more.

 Serve warm or at room temperature.
 Feeds 6 (4 if they are hungry Germans)

Throw some bratwurst on the barbeque, crack open a cold beer and summer supper is served.

                                                                          Prosit!