This entry is also posted on Dr. Sukol’s blog, Your Health is on Your Plate.

About a year ago, a friend of mine got interested in the raw food movement.  Raw foodists prefer their food, as advertised, raw.  Uncooked.  She said it changed her life.  OK, lots of people say stuff like that.  But I have to admit that I see the difference – she is more relaxed, and brimming with beauty and energy.  Four kids?  No problem!

So she had been wanting to introduce me to her new style of cooking, and we decided to get our families together for dinner.  No deal.  We couldn’t make it fit all our crazy schedules.  We resigned ourselves to the fact that we had to put the idea on hold until things settled down a bit.  My daughter was a little disappointed, having been introduced to the raw food movement as a college student in Toronto, but the boys were secretly relieved, skeptical as they were about the idea of eating “raw food.”  I decided to withhold judgment for the meanwhile. 

Then last night I had the good fortune to attend a picnic in the woods complete with tiny electric lights, an enormous bonfire, spectacular grilled salmon, great company, children of all ages, and a talented guitar player.  Something for everyone.  And a raw peach pie, courtesy of my friend, who was also in attendance.  It was fantastic.  I couldn’t stop thinking about it afterward.

This morning I called her for the recipe.  She measured one cup each of raw almonds and brazil nuts, and placed them in a water-filled jar to soak overnight.  The next day she drained the water, and placed the nuts in a food processor with 1/2 cup unsweetened coconut flakes, 1/2 teaspoon vanilla, and a scant 1/2 teaspoon of cinnamon.  She processed the contents until the consistency of meal, and then added 6-8 dates (Medjoul variety, the finest and sweetest) to make a dough.  She pressed the dough into a pan to form a crust, and then placed it in the freezer to firm up while she finished the recipe.

Next she cut 6-8 peaches into chunks, and mixed them with 1 teaspoon cinnamon, 1 teaspoon lemon juice (optional), and 1/4 teaspoon grated nutmeg.  I was surprised to learn that the less sweet the peaches, the more important it was to include the lemon juice.  Then she slid the peach mixture into the crust, and refrigerated it until it was time for dessert.

Now, here’s what I want to know, and I’m going to need your help, dear readers.  First, you have to make this recipe, or take it to the family cook in your kitchen, and help them make it.  Then, you’re going to take out your glucometer or borrow one from a friend or relative.  Now you’re going to check and record your sugar, eat a slice of raw peach pie, and recheck your sugar 1 hour later. 

How much did your blood sugar rise?  Send a comment and let me know.  If I’m right, this pie will not spike your blood sugar like a traditional one made with a flour crust.  So, depending on how insulin-resistant you are, you may be able to eat a slice of this pie without hesitation, without worry, and without spiking your blood sugar.  And even if you are diabetic, you may be able to eat a slice, knowing that the blood sugar spike will be modest instead of astronomical.   

And did I mention how good that pie was?  I went back for a second piece before I’d finished the first.  OK, yes, I’m hooked.

Last Sunday, July 25, 15 people gathered at Oregon’s Museum of Science and Industry for Portland Tuv Ha’Aretz’s 2nd annual Jewish edible garden bike tour. Portland is laid out in grids, like Washington, D.C. Last year’s tour covered NE Portland; this year we set off to explore neighborhoods in SE.

Our ride leader, Tuv member Beth Hamon, is an old-school bike geek. Last year she created spoke cards for our ride (when you do something for the first time, it’s an innovation; twice is minhag) So of course she made a new one for this year’s ride. Here’s a picture:

Our route took us through the Sellwood, Mt. Tabor and Hawthorne neighborhoods. We started with a trip down the Springwater Corridor, a 40-mile multi-use trail that runs partway along the Willamette River and goes past some fantastic bird habitats.

We visited four gardens, ranging in size from a single raised bed to an urban micro-farm, complete with bees and a small orchard. All the gardeners talked about what they grew, how long they’d been growing food, and some offered perspectives on how their Judaism informs their gardening. For some, the conection is simply that they are Jewish and enjoy putting their hands in the dirt. Others talked about earth stewardship and one gardener deconstructed the Hebrew word pardes (orchard), as a way of explaining his approach: “Pardes begins with a Peh, which stands for p’shat, a simple explanation for things (what you see is what you get). The next letter, Reish, stands for remez, which means “hidden,” and suggests all that goes into making the plants grow: water, healthy soil, air, sunlight. Daled is drash, a commentary, and the final letter, Samech, stands for sod, which means “secret”, as in ‘The Secret Life of Plants,’ something you have to study and understand over a period of years.”

We ended our 14-mile loop with a picnic lunch at Sewallcrest Park, next to an enormous community garden. It’s worth mentioning that community gardens are very popular here; we have a three-year waiting list, with more than 1,000 people waiting for a plot.

Here’s a link to our Flickr page for more pictures of our ride. One rider used a nifty little GPS device he wore on his wrist like a watch to map our route. Here’s another link that shows where we went.

If you’d like to plan a similar event, please feel free to contact me for information.

Here in the City of Angels, the thermometer has rocketed into the triple digits. It’s more like gehanna than heaven.

That means it’s time to celebrate Los Angeles’ cultural diversity and make some agua fresca.

An agua fresca is a cold beverage made with blended fruit or juice and water popular in Mexico and Central America. It is similar to a licuado, except a licuado is made with milk and more closely resembles what we call a smoothie.

To make an agua fresca, take 1 to 2 cups of peeled, seeded fruit and blend with the water. Add a sweetener such as agave nectar or honey to taste — but this may not even be necessary with fresh summer fruit. A tablespoon or so of lime or lemon juice will make the flavors sparkle. Garnish with mint, citrus slices or chunks of fruit on a skewer and serve over ice. Peak summer fruits may not even need sweetening.

An agua fresca can be made with chunks of seedless watermelon, cantaloupes, honey dew melons, strawberries, papayas, pineapples or even peeled and seeded cucumbers. A watermelon agua fresca is particularly good blended with fresh mint. A savory agua fresca, such as one made with cucumber, is best with cilantro.

An agua fresca has all the goodness of fresh summer fruit. It’s a thirst quencher fit for angels on a hot summer day.

In his blog Torah Flora, Dr. Jon Greenberg shares his unique insights and vast knowledge on Judaism and plants (or as he more articulately puts it, “biblical ethnobotany”). Some of us had the chance to witness that knowledge first hand today at the New York Botanical Garden, where Dr. Greenberg gave an enthusiastic group a “Torah Flora Tour.”

The goal of the tour (and blog), according to Dr. Greenberg, is to “use knowledge of plants and nature to better understand Torah and Halacha.” He cites a long-lost relationship during the biblical era between Judaism and nature, and a wish to reconstruct it.

Turns out this relationship goes well beyond the obvious of using Lulav and Etrog on Sukkot and bitter herbs on Pesach (though he discussed those as well, with exhibits A, B, and C proudly on view). This symbiosis exists in ways we have overlooked in our learning, in the very language of Tanach. Dr. Greenberg quoted Devarim in comparing a bitter man to wormwood, and wondered about the true identity of the desert Juniper in Jeremiah. It seems we’ve always turned to our green, leafy friends, for culinary, spiritual, and literary inspiration!

With every plant we passed, Dr. Greenberg pointed out its identifying marks and place in Jewish history (confirmed and fabled; Legend has it that it was a Jewish friend who showed Thomas Jefferson how to eat tomatoes…), and threw in some fun facts to sweeten the deal. He quoted sources with impressive speed and skill, citing the Talmud, Rambam, and Josephus in his fascinating botanical history lesson. Eventually, my intended event-reporting soon became a long list of “Who Knew?” facts and ideas I couldn’t wait to share on JCarrot!

For instance, while many Midrashic sources list the four species of Sukkot as metaphorical representations of people or senses, the Rambam sees them in an entirely original light: as an agricultural history of the Jews: The Lulav (date palm) grows in the desert, where the Jews wandered for forty years. The Aravot (willow) is a water-loving plant which finds its home on river banks, and represents our people’s crossing of the Jordan River on their way to Israel. The Hadasim (myrtle) grows in the Israeli highlands, where the people eventually spread out and settled, and the Etrog (citron, a cultivated fruit) represents the orchards that finally signaled the Jews’ agricultural growth in the land.

But the lessons didn’t end with interpretations of Judaic ritual items, oh, no. Some of the highlights of the tour were the “fun facts,” the stuff we might not use but sure are glad to know! For example, did you know that the word “scallion” comes from the Latin name for it, “Ascelonium”, so-called since the plants were imported from Ashkelon? I sure didn’t. Or that the original Maror (bitter herbs) probably wasn’t horseradish at all, but sea holly, the “prickly lettuce?” Dr. Greenberg and his wife offered us some samples of this spicy plant. Man, is it bitter. It could kick wasabi and romaine lettuce both to the curb come Hillel sandwich season. Funny thing is, sea holly starts out sweet. But as it matures, it becomes bitter and spiny, until it reaches a point where it’s no longer edible; just like the Jews’ experience in Egypt started pleasantly and ended in unbearable oppression!

As we walked among the rows of flowers and fruit, grateful that temperature had dropped a few degrees for the occasion (“I’ve got connections up there,” Dr. Greenberg joked), we came across familiar plants with hidden stories. “Not all of our favorite vegetables were always popular,” Dr. Greenberg shared, explaining how potatoes and tomatoes, both members of the Nightshade family, were once thought to be poisonous. In fact, eggplant took quite a while to find an audience. Quoting an Italian source from the 1890’s, he told us how the purple food was described as “a disgusting vegetable fit only for Jews.” Gee, thanks, guys. I’ll take that Eggplant Parmesan to go.

Dr. Greenberg spoke with such aplomb and excitement; it made me glad that I’d driven across the Throgs Neck Bridge to be there. Where else could I have heard so much about our shared history with nature? Next time I’m choosing my farmers’ market apricots, I’ll think for a moment about how some sources identify it as the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in Eden.

At one point, we arrived at an ordinary, flowering sage plant.

“What does this look like to you?” Dr. Greenberg asked.

“A Menorah!” some brave or eager volunteer announced.

“Exactly. And where did we light the Menorah?”

“In Jerusalem, on Har HaMoriah.”

“Right. ‘Moriah’ is Hebrew for ‘sage.’”

Wow.

Dr. Greenberg will be speaking next at the Association of Orthodox Jewish Scientists in Southbury, Connecticut on Sunday, July 25^th. Those interested can register for the event at aojs.org.

The affects of our crazy winter weather are not passed us yet. Generally, we think of bad weather as leading to increases in the prices of food.  Examples include, damaged oranges when the temperatures drop below freezing or farmers having to charge more since, they had to remove 3 feet of snow from their potato crops. But this time, the cold winter is going to make your produce cheaper.

Florida’s cold weather caused a delay in the harvest date for Florida’s strawberries. The delay caused Florida and California to strawberries to hit the markets at the same time. Last week, 80 million pounds of strawberries were picked – a new record for this time of year. In 2009, a pound of strawberries cost $3.49, while this year strawberries will go for $1.25 per pound.

I don’t have any go to strawberry recipes, but since the high is over 90 degrees in Washington, D.C. today, I have been researching frozen fruit cup recipes. I think I am going to make this one from Cooks Recipes.

1 (6-ounce) can frozen concentrated lemonade
1 (6-ounce) can frozen concentrated orange juice
2 1/2 cups water
1 cup granulated sugar
8 ounces fresh or frozen strawberries
3 bananas, peeled and sliced
1 (8-ounce) can pineapple chunks

Combine lemonade, orange juice, water and sugar in a large bowl. Add strawberries, bananas and pineapple.
Spoon into individual serving dishes.
Freeze for at least 1 hour before serving.

The month Nisan begins tonight and with it, so many associations. Last year, I wrote about the practice of refraining from eating Matzah from Rosh Hodesh Nisan (i.e. tonight) until Passover. Most people make, if any, the association of dreaded Pesach cleaning and preparation. I’ll be writing some about that in a few days or next week, God willing, but for now, let’s stick to things connected specifically to Rosh Hodesh Nisan.

One association fewer people make is that Birkat haIlanot, the blessing over blooming trees, is typically said in the month of Nisan:

ברוך אתה ה” אלוהינו מלך העולם שלא חיסר בעולמו כלום וברא בו בריות טובות ואילנות טובות ליהנות בהם בני אדם

Barukh Atah Adonai Eloheynu Melekh haOlam, sh’lo hisar b’Olamo kloom, uvara vo b’riyot tovot v’eelanot tovot lehanot ba-hem b’ney adahm

Blessed are you, Hashem our God, King of the universe, for nothing is lacking in His universe, and He created good creatures and good trees in it so that people can enjoy them.

( * There are a few variations of the blessing. This is the way it appears in the Shulhan Arukh. I suppose if you’re learning this for the first time, you’re learning it from me; say it the way you were taught it.)

The occurrence and wording of the blessing make sense: we tend to bless God for those things that benefit us and happen at specific times (think holidays.) We also make blessings on anything enjoyable (Birkhot haNehenin.) But there is more to this practice than simply making the blessing. First, you have to see the tree. It is not enough to know that this is when it will happen or to hear that someone else saw it. Second, it is the blossom or flower of the tree that you must see. Third, we say the blessing only when we see this happen to/on a tree that produces edible fruit. Finally, each person says this blessing only once per year, upon seeing such a bloom for the first time.

Among the purpose of blessings is to compel us to see the beautiful in the ordinary and in the extraordinary and to appreciate these as gifts from God. Birkat haIlanot has a particularly beautiful way of doing this. “One who goes out,” says the Shulhan Arukh, “in the days of Nisan and sees trees from which a flower is blossoming, says [the above blessing.]” (OH 226:1) Truthfully, the later scholars tell us, the blessing is not connected only to this month, but that this is the time when trees typically bloom in warmer countries (the Shulhan Arukh was probably compiled in Tz’fat and was based on material “the Mehaber” previously compiled there and in Adrianople, Turkey.)

This blessing fits into a category known as Birkhot haRe’iyah, blessings of seeing, made when seeing things: rainbows, lightning, certain people, oceans and, of course, trees in bloom. Sometimes it is hard to look at something in nature and see a spark of God in it, have a spiritual experience from it. How much harder it is to look at people, especially the ones you don’t like, and see God in them. All the soft-spoken rabbi talk about “the image of God” in the world won’t make that easy. These blessings help. Notice that the rule isn’t that one should go out looking for such a tree. When you go out, starting around now, it says, you have to observe everything around you; don’t necessarily look for a tree, but when you spot one–which means you have to observe everything around you–say this blessing.

Of course, the timing of the blessing makes sense because people mark Rosh Hodesh Nisan and it’s around now that trees start to bloom in many parts of the world (at least in the northern hemisphere.) But I posit that there is another reason. We start paying attention to blossoming trees tomorrow because in a certain way, that’s what tomorrow is all about. Rosh Hodesh Nisan is a time to remember that redemption is on its way. Just as we must do with trees, beginning tomorrow, if not all the time, we have to start looking around. Miracles can (Nisan from Nes, miracle) happen at any time anywhere. Maimonides even defines a miracle this way: when something unusual but within the limits of the natural order happens at precisely the right time. Usually we don’t notice miracles until after they’ve happened. Most scholars hold that you can’t say Birkat haIlanot after the actual fruit comes out; the whole point of the blessing is to thank God for potential. Right now (Rosh Hodesh begins in a few minutes here on the East Coast) is a particularly auspicious time to be thinking about potential. Our redemption as a people and as individuals is as close and as evident as the blossoming trees. Only by remembering to bless it will we remember–and merit–to see it.

Hodesh Tov!

Do you love your CSA (or Tuv Ha’Haretz) but also want sustainable products that are not found locally where you live?  Things like olive oil and dates are local to the Mediterranean Sea – not New England.  But for folks in the greater New York area committed to sustainable agriculture, some of our CSAs have recently partnered with a new company that supports small-scale farming and economic development in the Negev Region of Israel.

Negev Nectars, a new business that launched last week, will be bringing gourmet, sustainably produced foods to CSAs (and Tuv Ha’Haretz) to the United States.  Negev Nectars members will be sent olive oil, jams, chutneys, honey, dried herbs and other unique products (check them out here) three times a year just before Hanukkah, Passover and Rosh Hashanah.  Negev Nectars can be shipped all over the U.S., although your share can be picked up at participating sites.  Currently Negev Nectars can be picked up at the Tuv Ha’Haretz in White Plains, NY and Forest Hills, NY with additional sites coming soon in New York and New Jersey.

A Negev Nectars membership is more than just an investment in Israeli farms employing responsible growing practices; it is also an investment in the future of the country and the region. Farmers such as Doron Akiva, the olive grower, and those at the highly regarded organic kibbutz, Neot Smadar, irrigate their fields and orchards with brackish (salty) well water when the plants can handle it, and employ the most up-to-date water saving technology for desert conditions.

The ethos behind Negev Nectars is akin to what’s going on in the sustainable food world in the US “For those of us not living in California, local organic olive oil is impossible to find,” said Jeffrey Yoskowitz, Director of Operations and Marketing. “Many of our products are specific to the Mediterranean and the desert, and supplement the fresh produce from farmers markets and CSAs very nicely.” He added that no matter the distance, you should get to know your farmer.

The Delicious Pie, Sans First Slice

On Sunday night as my mother and I stood outside and began the slow, sad process of dismantling our Sukkah, I started to think about autumn and more specifically, why it ranks as my favorite time of the year. The end of the fall holidays always hit me hard, perhaps even harder than the thought of returning to my daily routine. And yet there I was, shivering in my pajamas and thanking Hashem Almighty that it was fall in New York.

Considering my deep loathing of the snow and my firm belief that the winter should be spent hibernating (with only rare breaks for hot chocolate and cookies), I’m always surprised by my love of its seasonal predecessor. But then I remember that the fall is the start of a brand new year for us Jews. Everything is open before us, and we haven’t had much chance to mess up yet. My favorite flavors come into the Farmers’ Markets: apples, butternut squash, fresh figs, and best of all, pumpkins. And for me, the fall comes with a wonderful combination of those two notions.

Since the next day was Columbus Day (or as I like to call it, the most arbitrary day off of the year), my mother, two of my

close friends, their grandma and I decided to indulge in the autumnal wonders and leave the city for an afternoon of apple and pumpkin picking. Monday turned out bright and brisk and the leaves were colorful, as if all of New York State had decided to flaunt its fall-ness for our benefit. I couldn’t have been happier.

And the apples couldn’t have been bigger or juicier or more plentiful. We shivered in the cold, lugged the ever-heavier bags of produce and ate way more apples than should ever be allowed, but by the time we returned to our own Queens, we felt as though some of our end-of-holiday rut had been patched up with fine produce.

That’s the remarkable thing about the fall. It is essentially nature’s last hurrah before it goes to cold slumber for a few months. Poets have lamented its impermanence and schoolchildren dread its arrival (heck, us college kids do too). But to quote the amazing and genius Calvin and Hobbes, “It’s nature’s own fireworks display.” The colors, the feel of the air and the tastes of the fruit are incomparable. Even after our apple-induced sugar highs wore off, I was newly elated and ready to face the everyday routine to come, because I had something I hadn’t the day before: an unnecessary bushel-sized surplus of apples. And a surplus of apples could only mean one thing: pie.

Now my apple pie with its cheddar cheese crust is baking in the oven, filling the house with a warm, sweet-and-salty smell. The homemade crust for pumpkin pudding pie is settling in the fridge, waiting to be rolled and baked into my favorite of all desserts everywhere. All in all, not too bad. Bring it on, cold weather.

Here’s my recipe for apple-cheddar pie:

You can use a store bought crust if you wish, but I prefer to make it at home.

Crust:

2 ½ cups white flour (or 1 ½ cup white flour & 1 cup whole-wheat flour)

1 tablespoon sugar

½ teaspoon salt

1 cup (2 sticks) butter or margarine, cut into ½ inch pieces

1 cup extra sharp cheddar cheese, finely grated

½ cup water

Filling:

7 cups apples (peeled, cored and sliced)

1/3 cup sugar

1 tablespoon lemon juice

2 tablespoons corn or potato starch

2 tablespoons unsalted butter or margarine

Cinnamon, nutmeg, powdered cloves to taste

1 teaspoon honey

Topping:

2 tablespoons finely grated cheddar cheese

For the crust:

Mix the dry ingredients, then put them into a food processor with the butter/margarine. (My food processor is too small to fit it all, so I do this in shifts. A little dry mix, a little butter, mix, then again). Pulse until the mixture is yellowish and crumbly.

Place mixture in a bowl. Add the cheese and mix well.

Use your fingers to sprinkle a little bit of the water at a time onto the dry ingredients, then knead them together. Continue until you have a thick (but not sticky) dough. Divide the dough in two, shape the halves into balls and flatten into disks. Then wrap them in plastic wrap and put it in the fridge for at least an hour.

After the hour, on a well floured surface, use a heavy rolling pin to flatten one of the dough disks into a circle about a foot in diameter. Place this into a 9 ½ inch pie dish and sculpt the edges so that they are higher than the rim. Place this into the refrigerator.

For the filling:

Put the apples into a large bowl, add most of the sugar. Mix together, and then put it aside for ten minutes to juice.

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.

Add lemon juice to the apples. Mix the remaining sugar, corn or potato starch and spices together and add to the apples. Mix well and pour into the prepared shell.

Drizzle honey on top of the apples and dot here and there with pieces of butter. Take the remaining half of the dough and roll into a circle about 11 inch circle. Place this on top of the apples. Moisten the edges and press the top and bottom pastries together at the edges.

Don’t forget to cut ventilation holes in the top crust! Very important! Poke several of them or slice a few longer slits, like I did. Then take remaining grated cheese and spread on top of the crust. Put in the oven! (Make sure there’s a pan or cookie sheet below the pie to catch drippings or you’ll have some real oven scrubbing to do).

Bake for 30 minutes. Then lower the temperature to 375 degrees and continue to bake for 40 minutes.

Take it out, serve warm, and yum! Savor!

Mmmmmmmmm

Around this time of year, my kitchen is overflowing with bowls of local apples from my friend’s farms.  On Rosh Hashana, Farmer Leon brought over a few honey crisps which as the name implies are crisp, delicious, and spicy sweet.  I saved a few of these special gems for a break fast cake.  While I was making the cake, my friend Heidi called and said she was making the cake too and her break fast version was featuring peaches and blueberries.  The recipe below can be made with any type of seasonal fruit and as the name says, the cake is super easy to whip up and very delicious.

Directions:

Cream one stick of butter with one cup of sugar.

Add one egg.

Mix in 1 tablespoon vanilla.

Combine one cup of flour with one teaspoon baking powder.

Add dry ingredients to the wet ingredients alternating with ¼ cup of milk.

Put mixture into pie dish.

Spread ¼ cup (or more) of applesauce with rubber spatula on to the top of cake.

Slice up 2-3 apples (or berries, peaches, pears, etc.) and place on top of the cake in a circular design.

Sprinkle top of fruit and cake with ¼ cup cinnamon/sugar.

Bake at 350 for 40 mins.