Water chestnuts are not locally grown here in Ohio, at least, not that I know of.

But, when they are fresh, they are truly divine, and I will buy them even if they were grown in California or Florida. Not only will I buy them, but I will buy several pounds of them, and use them in stir fries for a week, and the truth is, they are so delectably crisp and nutty-sweet that none of us ever tire of them. They are just that delicious.

I like coming up with new recipes to use them in, because that is more fun than just making the same several recipes–as good as they are–over and over again.

With super fresh local chicken, cilantro, green garlic and scallions all from the farmer’s market, as well as some really fresh baby bok choy, I decided to put together a new twist on the Cilantro Chicken I posted about a few weeks ago.

Here, I substituted fresh water chestnuts for the carrots, and added the baby bok choy along with about a half teaspoon of freshly toasted, ground Sichuan peppercorns. I love the combination of the nutty-sweet water chestnuts and the shimmery, flowery fragrance and tongue-tingling taste of the Sichuan peppercorns. They are amazing together, and I have used them in both Five Fires Beef and Sichuan Chicken with Garlic Sauce. And while these recipes are delicious, and I love making them, there is always room for another stir-fry recipe in my kitchen!

Let’s talk a little bit about how to handle fresh water chestnuts before we go on to the recipe. They should look like the ones in the picture here–there should be no sign of mold–no blue green spots, nor fuzzy white spots. They should be plump and firm. Some of them are sold cleaned and shiny, and others have a thin or sometimes thick layer of mud on them–I have found that the mud actually helps keep mold from attacking them. The shiny ones can have mold on the inside that you cannot detect until you start peeling them. The mud seems to seal any cracks in the skin that allow mold entry to the sweet interior flesh.

Store them loosely wrapped in the fridge for only a few days–five at the most–before using them. When you are ready to peel them, rinse them well, then cut off the top and bottom, and with a sharp paring knife, carve off the peel along the diameter of the chestnut. If you see any spots with blue mold or bright yellow flesh inside, cut those portions away, or if it is a big amount, toss that chestnut. The flesh should be bright white with the texture of fresh coconut–it should be quite firm. When you bite into them raw–and I suggest it–they are super crisp and VERY sweet, like the best candy in the world.

After they are peeled, rinse them again to get any flecks of peel off, and then slice them however you like. I tend to cut them into squarish slices, not rounds, just because it is easier to set them on the flat bottom or top and slice through that way than to set them on the round edge and cut round slices.

One other note on this recipe–I use fresh Thai chilies in it, but you don’t have to use chilies at all, or you can use dry Chinese or Thai chilies instead. You can add more chilies, or less, to your taste–I like a little bit of them, just to add zing that balances the sweetness of the water chestnuts. I like more garlic than ginger in this recipe, but if you want, you could make it the other way around. I will put my foot down and insist on scallions instead of onions for this stir-fry, though. Scallions have a green sharpness that goes perfectly with the cilantro and bok choy and really boosts the fresh flavor of the dish. Onions would be too strong.

Okay, enough stalling. Here is the recipe for you, which I hope you try and enjoy.

And remember, if you cannot get fresh water chestnuts, try using jicama instead. It has the same texture and a similar, if not quite as sweet flavor. Canned water chestnuts just won’t do for this recipe, so just pass on them this time around.

Oh, and one more thing–if you want to do a vegetarian version of this recipe, wheat gluten, also known as seitan, makes a great substitute for the chicken.

Cilantro Chicken with Fresh Water Chestnuts and Baby Bok Choy
Ingredients:

Serve immediately with steamed rice.

Americans need to go back to the land.

I don’t mean this in a 1960’s, leaving the city for a commune in the country, complete with goat milk, wheat grass and sprouted lentil loaves, kind of way.

I think we all need to get back to the land wherever we are.

We need to touch whatever bit of earth we have at our disposal, whether that means a planter on the deck, a grassy front yard, or an empty lot at the end of the block. We need to do more than touch that earth–we need to till it, plant seeds, tend them and watch them grow into food for ourselves, our families and our neighbors.

America used to be a nation of farmers, and we need to remember that and return to our roots.

Why?

Because of rising food prices, and looming threats of food shortages.

Because of lack of availability of fresh vegetables and fruits among the urban poor.

Because of soaring obesity rates, and lowered nutrition among the country’s poor.

Because eating locally is good for us and the environment, and our local economy.

And because we need to remember who we are, as a nation.

Gandhi once said, “To forget how to dig the earth and to tend the soil is to forget ourselves,” and he is right. As Americans have turned away from the land, as we have allowed farms to be turned into strip malls and condominiums, as we have turned away from self-reliance and embraced consumerism as a lifestyle, we have forgotten the soul of our nation. We have forgotten what once made us strong, and that was a deep connection to the earth, to our homes, to our neighbors.

We need to rebuild that connection, and in doing so, we will be better able to weather the coming economic recession, high food prices and possible food shortages which loom over our future lives.

And the thing is–gardening and growing at least some of our vegetables and fruits–can be accomplished anywhere. You don’t have to have forty acres and a mule, or even one acre and a rototiller. A small urban yard will do, or a series of containers on a rooftop or balcony or a vacant lot.

Urban agriculture is finally coming back into its own in the US, after last being seen as a real movement during WWII with the “Victory Garden” campaign when rooftops and backyards were planted in cities and larger gardens were dug in the country by people from all walks of life.

The New York Times features an article on the growing trend of urban farming in the US where individuals not only grow food for their families on vacant lots, but also grow enough vegetables to sell to their neighbors. Not only does this bring in extra cash for people in poor neighborhoods, it also brings much appreciated fresh food to people who have little choice in where to shop.

The Times reports that co-ops have been formed, CSA;s have gone urban and restaurants have taken to buying produce grown within their own cities.

Of course, none of this is new–there have always been urban farmers. What is new is the idea that urban farming in the US could help to substantially feed citizens while also boosting local income and microeconomic systems. (Cities in the UK and other countries are also embracing urban agriculture as well, but I am primarily talking about the US for now.)

For proof that city-based agricultural ventures, from backyard gardens to community gardens to full-fledged urban market farms, can produce a significant amount of food in modern times, we need to look beyond the US, however. We need to examine the current urban agricultural system of Cuba.

Cuba’s successful experiment in urban agriculture started as a means to feed Cuba without relying on food imports after trade embargoes caused food shortages. Currently, urban farms occupy around 86,000 acres, and in the past few years, these farms have produced 3.4 million tons of food annually. Urban farms grow 90 percent of the fresh vegetables for the city of Havana alone.

Considering that these government-led and supported urban agriculture programs only started a few decades ago, their success is astonishing, and to me, enticing.

Just think of what Americans could do with our abundance of land, in comparison to the smaller acreage available to Cuba.

Why don’t we do it then? Why don’t we all start planting our own “Victory Gardens” again, and take the time to learn how to grow our own food, and take back a measure of self-reliance once more? Why don’t we claim our own victories–against poverty, against processed foods, against corporate control, against our own complacency–and relearn what we have forgotten: how to dig the earth and tend the soil.

Let’s join other Americans and do it, in big ways and small ways.

Let’s remember ourselves.

Author’s Note: Our backyard is finally being terraced this year, and the first things we will plant in it will be asparagus crowns, strawberries and a bunch of annual vegetables. The ornamentals–the flowers and shrubs, and hopefully fruit trees–will wait for next year. The food comes first.

I bet you are wondering why I called this recipe “Kiss, Kiss, Bang Bang,” right?

Well, it has nothing to do with either James Bond, the movie with Robert Downey Jr. or the Torchwood episode of the same name.

It has to do with the nature of the recipe I am presenting.

This pasta sauce is such an explosion of strong flavors, that if you were to kiss someone after eating it, you would make a big bang of an impression upon them.

And probably not in a good way.

So, this title is a warning of sorts. If you are in a kissing mood after you eat this spaghetti, I suggest that you choose your target kissee wisely. The best strategy would be to feed your intended recipient of the kiss some of the pasta first, so that the two of you are equally armed when it comes to the strong flavors and aromas left in the mouth. The combination of caramelized onions, ramps, green garlic and goat feta is powerful–delicious, sensual and delightful, really, but you don’t really want to share it second hand. (Well, unless you know someone like me who thinks the aroma and flavor of garlic is just about the sexiest ever….) And the combination is strong enough, thanks to the ramps, that it will defeat the liberal application of Listerine, Altoids and Crest. (On the other hand, personally, I’d sooner kiss someone who has just eaten a raw garlic clove than someone who has washed his or her mouth out with Listerine. Listerine tastes like someone has been licking a hospital floor. Ick.)

So, the title is a warning, but it is also an advertisement for those who love big bangin’ flavors–if you love the sweetness of caramelized onions, the tang of garlic, the heady aroma of ramps, and the sword-sharp bite of goat feta, then this recipe is for you. Take all of those flavors, add the sweetness of tomatoes and the heat of a little bit of chilies, and you have a great, quick sauce for spaghetti that will not only chase the blues and blahs away, but will chase away anyone else you might want to be rid of as well.

The truth is–you can leave out the ramps if you must–especially if you have no way of getting them. Just add more green garlic or add some regular garlic to the sauce. Or just plain old leave it out. You can also forgo the butter in the recipe and just use olive oil instead, but I find that a bit of butter in addition to the olive oil softens the flavor of all of the alliums, and adds a certain richness to the sauce, making it cling deliciously to the spaghetti. You can also leave out the optional teaspoon of anchovy paste in order to make this dish vegetarian–the anchovy paste adds a great deal of umami flavor, but it isn’t necessary. I just think it perfectly rounds out the sauce and ties the different allium tastes together into a cohesive whole.

As for the goat feta, I was lucky enough to get some of the first batch of Chris Schmiel’s (of Integration Acres) home made feta from his goats. You may not be so lucky, so if you can’t get goat feta, use whatever feta you can get–the creamiest, tangiest, most sharp feta you can find.

One more thing–I used home-canned tomatoes and marinara sauce from last summer’s abundant tomato crop, but you can just as easily use store-bought canned tomatoes and jarred marinara. In fact, this would be a quick way to jazz up jarred sauce–just use the highest quality sauce you can buy, one without high fructose corn syrup, so that you get the truest, strongest tomato flavor possible.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang Spaghetti

Ingredients:

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon butter (optional–you could use another tablespoon of olive oil instead)
2 cups thinly sliced yellow onions
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup fresh green garlic, white and light green parts only, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon Aleppo pepper flakes
1 teaspoon anchovy paste (optional)
1 teaspoon or to taste chili garlic paste–I used my homemade paste (or use freshly chopped chilies or a few drops of hot sauce)
1/4 cup dry sherry or dry red wine
1 pint canned tomatoes
1 quart marinara sauce
1 cup thinly sliced green garlic–dark green tops only
1 cup thinly sliced ramp leaves
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 pound thin spaghetti, cooked al dente
1/4 cup crumbled feta cheese

Method:

Heat olive oil and butter in a heavy-bottomed skillet until the butter foams. Add the onions and sprinkle with the salt. Cook, stirring, until the onions turn a deep golden brown. Add the garlic and continue stirring and cooking until the garlic turns golden and the onions are a deep reddish brown. add the pepper flakes, anchovy paste, and chili garlic paste, and cook, stirring for another minute. Add the sherry or red wine, and cook, stirring, until the alcohol boils off.

Add the tomatoes, and cook, stirring, until the juice is boiled off and the tomatoes begin to break down. Chop at the tomatoes with a spoon until they break down, and add the marinara sauce and keep cooking until the sauce thickens slightly. Toss in the green garlic tops and ramp leaves, and season to taste with salt and pepper. Cook until the leaves wilt slightly, then add drained spaghetti to the pot and toss until the pasta is well coated.

Swirl pasta onto serving bowls and top with crumbled feta cheese and serve immediately. (Serves six as a main course with salad.)

Today was a gorgeous spring day: the sun was bright, the sky was a perfect robin’s-egg blue, and flowers bloomed, filling the birdsong-laden air with fragrance.

Zak’s favorite tree is blooming, the tree that always says “springtime” to him–the redbud.

A native to the eastern US, particularly the Appalachian mountain regions, the redbud is a very small leguminous tree which in the spring is covered with tiny magenta-violet blossoms that look like miniature sweet pea flowers. Of course, there is a reason for that–remember I said that the tree was leguminous, meaning it is related to garden peas, sweet peas, peanuts, locust trees, beans of all sorts and lentils.

These tiny, lovely blossoms are edible, a fact little known outside of Appalachia. They are most often eaten raw in salads or used as a garnish, although they are also sometimes added to sauces or soups so they barely cook, retaining their fresh rosy coloration. Their flavor is rather bean-like, lightly sweet and somewhat starchy, with a tiny tang in the finish.

Long ago, the greenwood twigs and bark were also used to season game meats, leading to the common name, “spicewood tree” by which it is still known in isolated areas of Appalachia.

I like eating the flowers–I like the fresh sweet bean flavor, and in the past, I have mostly used it in salads and salad dressings, although I have also cooked with it, most notably in stir-fried dishes. But, as much as I enjoyed adding redbud flowers to chicken with bitter melon, the application wasn’t really as seasonal and local as it could have been.

I mean, there are plenty of classic Appalachian springtime foods one can gather from the wild with redbud flowers. Ramps are a perfect example, as are morels and tiny baby sheep sorrel.

I lucked into a pint of morels at the farmer’s market on Saturday which had been gathered by Chris Schmiel, founder of the Athens County PawPaw Festival, cultivator and gatherer of pawpaws, black walnuts, spicebush berries, ramps, wild mushrooms and all the other fine bounty of our Appalachian woodlands. He also makes the most delicious fresh chevre I have ever eaten in my life. Moist and soft with no chalky mouthfeel and delicately flavored with just a hint of sharpness, it is amazing. I buy some every week starting in the spring and continuing into fall, as long as his goats continue giving milk.

This afternoon while we drove off to Lancaster to pick up some sewing machine needles, as I watched the scenery pass and saw all of the redbuds in joyous bloom, I had the inspiration of combining morels, redbuds and chevre into a pasta sauce. If I’d have had ramps, those would have gone into the sauce as well, but I was out of them. Instead, I used some green elephant garlic, which I bought from Rich Tomsu at the market on Saturday.

(When I told Zak about the idea, he grinned and said that what he liked best about local foods was the seasonality of them. That you only have redbuds, ramps, and asparagus for short periods of time, so you eat a lot of them, and feast, and it is like a holiday that you look forward to all year around. Because, as he said, yeah, eating local is politically satisfying and good for the environment, but what turned him into a convert was that it all tasted so good. )

Green elephant garlic looks an awful lot like leeks, (there is an excellent reason for that–elephant garlic is more closely related to leeks than to garlic) but I discovered while I was cooking it that it smells and tastes like a milder form of ramps. The green and white stalks worked perfectly in the sauce, which I decided to call “Enchanted Forest Pasta” because the conical shape and wrinkled visage of morels reminds me of what little gnomes wearing pointy hats might look like, and because I always think that eating flowers is somewhat fey and not entirely proper. There is just something fairytale-like about eating foods gathered from the woodlands, and I cannot help but think that I eating what elves and spriggans might eat if the did indeed exist.

Like most simple pasta sauces, this dish went together easily and quickly. The morels required the most effort, being as they tend to hide grit and dirt in their hollow centers or among the wrinkled whorls and crevices of their surfaces. I rinse them briefly in water, cut them in half, trimming the bottom of the stem if it is tough, and then I shake each halved cap in a small bowl, knocking loose any remaining dirt and sand. Then, I take the caps out of the bowl and set them aside to dry until it is time to cook them.

The only non-local ingredient that I used in this sauce (the pasta wasn’t local, either, nor was the Aleppo pepper, now that I think on it) was the handful of pine nuts I added to it. I just thought that they would taste good with it, and I wanted something with a bit of crunch other than the fresh buttered breadcrumbs I made out of the heel of a loaf of honey oat bread from The Village Bakery, which is just down at the bottom of the hill our house sits on. While the pine nuts were good, honestly, I think that the breadcrumbs would have been fine on their own.

So, here is the recipe–note that it has fewer ingredients than most of my recipes, and that makes it great for a weeknight for normal folks, for a weekend after a long night shift for a restaurant worker. It is a beautifully balanced dish–the meaty, earthy morels flavor the cream and thus the sauce, but are held in check from overpowering everything by the sweet sharpness of the green garlic, and the tang of the goat cheese. The breadcrumbs and pine nuts add crunchy brown notes and the redbud blossoms add as sweet, leguminous crunch and aroma. It is the essence of springtime in the Appalachian hills and valleys I have always called home.

This would be great with a baby spinach salad topped with roasted baby beet slices and dressed with a simple balsamic vinegar and olive oil dressing.

Enchanted Forest Pasta
Ingredients:

Serves four for a main course.

Spring is finally in full swing, with sunny days, cool nights and the warming earth is sending forth shoots, leaves and flowers to be enjoyed by all who long for fresh green vegetables after a winter of potatoes, turnips, squash, and frozen and canned veggies.

This recipe came out of what was in my refrigerator. Much of it came from the farmer’s market, so it is local, but I have to admit that the asparagus was from the grocery store (and California before that) and the peas were frozen, also probably originally from California. We still have a week or so to go for fresh peas and asparagus here. BUT, as soon as I get my hands on them, and maybe some morel mushrooms plucked from our damp Appalachian earth, you can be certain that I will be making this dish again.

It started out as pasta alfredo. Except that as I was digging about in the fridge, I thought to myself, “Alfredo isn’t really that nutritive, and it can be somewhat bland. Let’s add some onions and garlic–ooh, I have fresh local green garlic from the farmer’s market. And ooh–look, I have that asparagus I bought yesterday. Oooh. And the ramps from the farmer’s market–those will certainly add flavor. And frozen baby peas. And oh, look–that fresh goat cheese I picked up at the farmer’s market too. I bet that would be awesome.”

So, out of the fridge and pantry came all of the aforementioned bounty, and within twenty-five minutes, dinner was on the table: pasta with springtime vegetables in a sauce made from local cream, goat cheese and a sprinkle of imported Parmesan.

I think that the only way to improve this dish, other than using locally grown peas and asparagus, would be to add morel mushrooms to it. Zak would disagree with me, but that is because he suffers from funguphobia, which is a very sad thing. Sad for me, anyway, because that means I seldom get to indulge in my funguphilia. Zak, on the other hand, is perfectly happy avoiding mushrooms.

Anyway, here is the recipe, which is simple to put together and makes a great meatless meal in celebration of the fresh springtime foods, especially if you add a spinach and leaf lettuce salad with delightful radishes like we had from the market as well.

Zak calls this dish “Twigs and Berries Pasta,” because of the shapes of the vegetables and the penne I tossed with it, but I prefer my slightly more accurate name.

Appalachian Pasta Primevara
Ingredients:

(You could add baby spinach leaves to this at the end along with the ramp leaves, or some morels when you cook the onions.)