Spring Greening

Dear Winter, I think you may finally be done. I know, you really didn’t get a fair shake this year.

A few snow flurries at best, near-freezing temps even as late as last week for a night or two here and there

- but that was about it.

Spring is officially here; the calendar and something mysterious called the Equinox say so. Better luck next year.

In the meantime, the April showers and May flowers are on their way, and with them comes a new crop of spring vegetables. I, for one, am ready.

It has been a particularly good week at the Reed Hacienda when it comes to fresh foods. I have been a CSA member many times in the past, but have fallen out of the loop lately, schedules being what they are. But this year I re-upped my subscription and our first basket arrived this week.

If you are unfamiliar with a CSA, let me catch you up - it’s not a Southern thing, as the initials might suggest. It’s a farmer thing and stands for Community-Supported Agriculture. The basics are this: the subscriber (that would be me) pays a fee at the beginning of a season or cycle to the farmer. The farmer takes the money and plants things, doing all the work that has to be done to take care of a crop. Then for a certain number of weeks or months, the subscribers get a share of what is harvested. As the season progresses, the basket changes. You might have an idea of what you’re going to receive each week, but it can change based on weather and such. In a sense, you’re investing in the farm - what happens to the farm also happens to you, and usually what happens is you eat some very interesting things over the course of the season.

In previous CSA’s, I learned to like things like kohlrabi. It sounds like a character out of a Star Wars movie. I probably wouldn’t have bought it on my own. It’s a little wild looking. But now I’ve eaten it three or four different ways, and I am not afraid of Obi Wan Kohlrabi.

This week we got four or five different kinds of greens, some still attached to the roots we know as turnips and radishes. Before this goes to press, I will likely cook up a big pot of what my old Cub Scout buddy calls “Dancing Greens” at the Starkville Cafe. You put them all in the pot together, throw in a little love, and let them dance. This dance will include radish greens, turnip greens, collards, and a variety of mustards - some very attractive ones, at that. (They’ll be the first ones asked to dance, I’m sure.)

My standard method is to hit my greens with a little bacon fat, salt and pepper, then let them dance in the water till they are a step or two beyond tender. Not long ago I threw a smoked turkey leg in the pot, and that added a level of flavor I really wasn’t expecting. When I’m feeling especially frisky, I might sauté them in a little Captain Rodney’s Boucan Glaze for a sweet and spicy bite.

The big green question, however, is this: what do you do with the potlikker at the end? Hopefully you are not pouring that elixir of healthiness down the sink when the greens are gone. All those nutrients that we Southern folk like to cook out of our veggies are sitting in the peridot liquid, waiting to be respected for what they are. Not long ago I had a couple of pints left from a pot, and over the next day or two drank it hot from a coffee mug. Of course, you can also sop it up with a piece or two of cornbread, or use it as a base for soup. Mary Mac’s Tea Room in Atlanta serves it as an appetizer with cracklin’ bread. I haven’t tried this - yet - but I bet it would be amazing if you cooked rice in it instead of plain ol’ water. Sounds like a good weekend cooking project.

Now back to our roots. I saw I would be taking home a batch of radishes and turnips, and asked Farmer Sam what I might do with them. Turnips are usually cut up and added to the pot of greens. Radishes tend to get sliced for salads or quick-pickled. He suggested roasting them. I thought that was a grand idea, so I pulled out my copy of The New Southern Garden Cookbook, written by Sheri Castle, a prolific recipe developer and one of my favorite people to see at food meetings. The subtitle of the book told me I was in the right place: “Enjoying the Best from Homegrown Gardens, Farmers’ Markets,