CARROT TOPS!

For the last few weeks, I have been stripping the bushy green carrot tops off of my carrot bunches, admiring their lush greenery, and then sadly relegating them to the trash pile. After my last two ventures into carrot tops (toasted, garlicky green grass and a rather noxious carrot top tea), I had given up altogether on carrot tops, thinking that perhaps there wasn't anything to be done with them. I started brainstorming ways to build a little compost pile on my rooftop...but...

This week was particularly difficult. The purple carrots were so beautiful and the carrot tops were so abundant. I felt remorse and shame as I sliced off the tops and threw them away.

While I was contemplating the sad fate of my carrot tops, I had a suddent guilt-induced flash of insight. Perhaps carrot tops could be used for medicinal purposes? I shuddered a bit, thinking on the carrot top tea/infusion I had tasted earlier, but I figured it was worth a try.

I found a lot of interesting facts about carrots, the history of carrot cultivation, and its various uses through the ages. Did you know the wild carrot is native to Afghanistan, where it was found in its original purple and purple-white hues? There are yellow and black varietals as well, and researchers have managed to create a particularly sweet varietal of purple carrot with an orange core. I wish I could do that for a living - create new varietals of edible plants. Sighhh... if dreams were pennies, I'd be rich.

I found several reports of carrot top and carrot seed infusions (yeck) and extracts being used for detoxification and as a diuretic. Apparently, poultices made from (wild) carrot mash also work as an external antiseptic.

I also stumbled upon a particularly entertaining 2009 NY Times article by Michael Tortorello.

The Toxic Salad (NYT)

Tortorello is more gifted than I. After cooking up some carrot tops, I believe my description of the experience was something along the lines of "garlicky toasted grass" and "interesting." In Tortorello's words, "The immature carrot greens were cheerfully bitter—say, like a $150 million Powerball winner paying his tax bill. If you can’t quite taste that simile on your tongue, here’s another adjective I could use to describe those carrot greens: toxic."

Yeah, basically. Apparently, carrot tops are mildly toxic, given their high alkaloid content. I might be just spreading internet hearsay along, but hey, I believe it. Those things are vile.

I like to read the readers' comments sections sometimes. You get such an interesting view into the lives of the most annoying netizens floating out there. NYT, WSJ, Huff Post all have very different varieties of lurkers, some more obnoxious than others. But there are also a lot of normal people and I will occasionally discover the odd gem here and there. Especially when I read inoffensive niche articles, like this one. After all, no matter how determined the would-be political commentator, it is difficult to connect leftover vegetable tops with the varying obstacles our country faces from the pernicious effects of greedy, no-good (fill in your politician or minority group of choice here - Romney, Obama, bankers, and politicans as a general group seem to be particularly popular choices these days).

I digress. While I was sifting through comments that had been posted and forgotten several years ago, I discovered quite a few interesting and useful things. I felt like a packrat, successfully scavenging scraps that would prove useful someday, perhaps.

- Rhubarb leaves are toxic.
- Parsnip sap and sunlight are a dangerous combination for your skin. The two together can cause serious blisters and rashes. Yikes!
- A nice reminder that tomato plants are toxic, except the fruit. In fact, all parts of the nightshade plants are usually toxic, with a few exceptions.
- Another nice reminder that the carrot/parsnip family is very dangerous for the unaware forager. Deadly water hemlock is all too tragically mistaken for wild parsnip or wild carrot - even a bite is fatally toxic to children (and adults).
- Rabbits like carrot tops, sometimes. So do goats, apparently.

Of course, this being the comments section, even if it is the comments section of a top notch paper with a fairly respectable readership, it is wise to take all these comments with a healthy grain or two of salt.

But anecdotal evidence is sometimes oh-so-helpful in ways that dry facts simply are not. One woman, after reading the article, exclaimed that in France, carrot tops are sold by the bunch in farmers' markets for making an excellent soup stock. Is this true? Who knows? But oh, how brilliant!

I should have thought of this. The lady casually mentions freezing large bunches of carrot greens for winter soup making purposes and I can't help but smack myself over the head for disposing of my poor carrot greens. I knew there was a good use for them.

I prefer eating my carrots raw, most of the time. Occasionally, I might roast them. But I don't like wasting them in soup, since I find the raw version ever so much tastier than the cooked version. I do like the flavor that they infuse into the broth though. And that, exactly, is what carrot tops are useful for. I can make lovely, carrot flavored soup stock without sacrificing my carrot snacking habit. Why, oh why, didn't I think of this before...?

Well, now I know. And fortunately, carrots are not a summer vegetable, like the tomato or the eggplant, so perhaps we'll be getting a few more bunches in the next few CSA shares. Thinking of carrot tops as herbs, like parsley or dill, makes a world of difference. After all, you wouldn't want to cook a dish of sauteed parsley, but you certainly would throw a handful into a soup pot. (At least, I would.) Prepared and armed with my newfound knowledge, I am ready to tackle these carrot tops again.

Please, don't doubt. I know this will work. After all, third time's the charm!


Afterthought: I think I know why every culture has soup in one form or another. And I know why every culture has it's own version of "buddaejjigae," which is essentially a mashup of anything and everything available to Koreans during the civil war (popular ingredients include ramen noodles, sour kimchi, random veggies, cheese, spam, or pasta). All ingredients are optional and can be used in any order.

Soup is just the most forgiving food to make (and one of the most economical and healthy too!)

Leftover vegetables bits (carrot tops, onion and potato peelings), the aesthetically displeasing, the odds and ends of an animal carcass (bones, gristle, tendons, innards, skin, bits of extra meat and fat), the excess herbs - they all make lovely additions to the soup pot and can be added in any whatever quantity is available. Even the strongest herbs, like cilantro or dill, can be thrown by the handful into soup, where their flavors will soften and commingle with the other ingredients, producing a flavorful but not overwhelming soup base.

Soup! How versatile you are!

This is turning into an ode to soup. I'll stop here.

The Good, the Gorgeous, and the Gross

I enjoyed a lovely salad for lunch yesterday, chock full of crunchy-sweet-spicy radish bits and tender baby greens. Such a nice change from the usual uninspired offerings I usually end up with around lunchtime...

I had to take about 20 minutes the night before to wash and prepare everything, but it was definitely worth it. Even the mini heart-attack I suffered while washing my salad greens.

Heart attack? How could a bowl of salad greens and a radish possibly trigger a heart attack? Ha.

Let's go back to that night. I had pulled out a few handfuls of salad greens and planned to rinse them and dump them into a plastic bowl to take with me to work. I was going to top the salad with chopped radishes and supplement with some almonds and viniagrette at work. Nothing too complex, since it was late and I was tired.

I rinsed my greens a few times, decided they were clean and began blotting them dry (I really need to get a salad spinner). Into my plastic container they went. Suddenly, one of my salad leaves moved. I stared for a moment, sure that my sleep deprivation had finally led to hallucinations. No, I saw it again. The leaf had definitely moved. I cautiously flipped the leaf over and sure enough, there was a nice fat green larva about the length of a quarter and the width of a pencil.

An undignified yelp and hop followed...

I couldn't bring myself to squash the bug, so I gingerly picked up the leaf (with a napkin) and threw it in the trash can. I know, I know. I'm such a girl and death by starvation is hardly less humane. I should have squashed it.

I spent the next 10 minutes washing each leaf individually. And that night, I dreamt of giant caterpillars. Somehow, they seem less friendly in real life than in The Very Hungry Caterpillar, which, by the way, is an epic childhood classic. I hope I still have my copy so I can read it to my kids :D

Anyways, there you have it. The first sighting of a hitchhiker in my CSA share. And a reminder to always wash every leaf. Carefully and thoroughly.

Salad: made with individually, carefully washed baby greens and a chopped up easter egg radish

Eat Seasonally, Save a Taste Bud!

I thought this was quite clever. So what's a girl to do? Share it, of course!

Adorable Eat Seasonably Calendar*

Why is knowing what fruits and vegetables are in season important anyways? Don't we have bigger things to worry about? Well, yes, I agree. #firstworldproblems...but only because in the "first world," we have the option to eat things out of season. Strawberries in December? Kale in July? Tomatoes year round? Sure, no problem, sounds great. Globalization has saved us...as long as you were born without taste buds. Didn't take me long to discover this.

When I was a young girl, May was positively the best time of the year. May meant the last day of school, beautiful weather...and cherries. All the cherries I could eat. And eat them I did. By the 3lb bag. As soon as cherry season hit, my mom would buy two bags. One for me and one for the rest of my family. I usually ended up eating both bags...


My devotion to cherries was unmatched and probably stemmed from the fact that I knew the cherries would be gone soon. Like a camel at an oasis in a desert, I gorged myself, knowing that in a few short weeks, I'd have no more cherries and one more year standing between me and my next 3lb bag. When I was 5 years old, I didn't know much, but I did know that one year = eternity. It's like 20% of my life!

My parents were poor assistant profs working hard to provide for the family, so while we were comfortable, my parents didn't splurge on unnecessary items when I was a little girl. But as my parents became more established (read: promoted to real profs!), my mom would surprise me occasionally with my favorite treats or a cheery bunch of jonquils or tulips. One late autumn day, I came home from school, peeked in the fridge, and to my surprise, I found a bag of cherries! I knew they were inordinately expensive when they were out of season, which is probably why my mom only bought one bag. With all the instinctive self-confidence that only young children possess, I just knew it was mine. But just in case...

Me: For me Mom? Really?

Mom: Yes, for you. For working so hard in school.

Me: *briefly overwhelmed by eternal gratitude and love, distracted quickly by cherries* (I prefer to remember myself not as being bratty, but rather very excitable with a tendency towards intense concentration on achieving my goals. In this instance, eating my cherries.)

Words can't describe my glee. One year of waiting had magically halved itself. I washed the cherries and squirreled away a bowl to my room, planning to enjoy my spoils in peace and quiet.

The first cherry was a disappointment. It was bland. I chalked it up as an outlier. After all, in a 3lb bag, there were always going to be some reject cherries that were too pulpy, sour, or ugly to be eaten. I tried another. And another. I may not have been the sweetest or cutest child, but I was fairly bright. After three cherries, I realized something was horribly wrong. These were not cherries. These were not even reject cherries. These were imposter cherries. Not only were they not sweet and juicy, they weren't even tart or pulpy. They were just bland and altogether unappealing.

A picture is worth a thousand words. So, The Incident, in picture form:

Picture Re-cap of Cherry Disaster #1



And because I <3 JGL and because 500 Days of Summer is the story of my life right about now, but mostly because I <3 JGL...

Picture Re-cap of Cherry Disaster #2


I looked at the bowl sadly and determinedly forced myself to finish every last, tasteless cherry. My mom made the effort to treat me to one of my favorite fruits and I wasn't about to throw it back in her face. (See? Not a brat. Just very focused.)

This encounter with out of season cherries was traumatic enough to convince me never to touch another bag of cherries until it was cherry season. I learned, through trial and error and induction, that the same rule applies to pretty much every other fruit or vegetable I can think of. The only exception are hothouse cucumbers, because hothouses don't have seasons. Duh.

When I went away to college and had to start buying my own groceries with my own dollars, I realized that finding in-season produce had yet another benefit beyond taste and quality. It's usually cheaper! Double winning :D

Each year that has passed since that fateful cherry incident has not necessarily made me any wiser, but it certainly has made me older. :( But fortunately, I don't think I've gotten (much) stupider. At least I haven't forgotten the In-Season-Produce-Wins lesson. Honestly, buying in-season produce is almost always the best option in a grocery store and it's getting easier to do every year. If you have a smartphone, it's super easy to look up growing seasons for a particular item. Alternatively, just look for whatever's cheaper and looks decent. That's usually a solid indicator of in-season produce. Careful not to buy produce that's on sale for being ugly, bruised and overripe though! Common sense is your friend.

If, tragically, you lack common sense...no fear! The absolute easiest and most foolproof way to get seasonal fruit and veg is...yup. You guessed it. By signing up for a CSA (or by visiting a farmer's market)! The very nature of a CSA/farmer's market means that you should end up with seasonal and super fresh produce. Since these are the two biggest contributors to the taste and quality of produce, I think it's safe to say that if you are lucky enough to find a good CSA with a reputable farm partner, you'll find it hard to go back to the flavorless, grainy, mealy produce aisles of your grocery store. As a final benefit, CSA's are local as well, which means you might be eating greener for the planet too. Whether this is true is up for debate, but hey, at the very least, you're supporting the local economy and helping build a community!

All this talk about seasonal produce and CSA's is getting me super excited. CANNOT WAIT...............here's to hoping the mild weather continues and that our farmers don't get hit by crazy rainstorms or freak frosts. :)

*Caveat: This calendar, though cute, is for the lovely residents in the UK. Which is not where I am. So...I'm using this as a broad guideline with a generous helping of common sense and my trusty phone internetz. At least until my CSA shares start arriving.