Think Inside the Box: The Season Begins

My gradual locavore transformation has been complicated by an inborn desire to plan for and control, well, everything. I have spent a few summers adapting to the seasonality of local farmer’s market produce, and six months of an East Coast farmshare reinforced the preschool axiom: “You get what you get and you don’t get upset.” Now it is time to face both challenges together, as our in-season CSA with Stillman’s Farm begins and our larder’s contents follow the ebb and flow of one farm’s harvest.

Our first pickup seemed like cosmic payback for . That Sunday, I walked away from the table carrying a bag overstuffed with leaves: two heads of lettuce; two bunches of beets with their greens; and two bunches each of chard and kale. The following week I found myself with two more varieties of kale, another two bunches of beets, a selection of turnips and a full three heads of lettuce. That night I began to question the wisdom of signing my family up for the large share. At least nobody would want for Vitamin A.

Since lettuce can be the anchor of a perfectly respectable meal—even my four-year-old son will happily make a lunch out of salad “but no onions”—I dutifully set to work separating the heads, washing the leaves and spinning them dry. No-spray lettuce does take a little more work than the salad mixes you can buy at the grocery store (unless you are looking for a protein boost from the insects). But so far it has been worth the effort, with the Sunday night investment generating in quick, delicious salads all week long.

I knew I could make endless batches of kale chips and my kids would polish them off before the oven finished cooling down. An assortment of chard and beet leaves joined forces for a lasagna, which did not suffer for containing nearly twice the amount of greens called for in the recipe.

My family gets credit for sampling whatever passes through the kitchen, but I happen to be the only one here who actually likes beets. That first week, I had it all figured out. I peeled and roasted the beets, then paired some with goat cheese in  for properly appreciative guests. The next day for lunch I mixed the remaining roasted beets with yogurt for an ad hoc mast o laboo; though delicious, the vivid florescent pink result looked as if it should not exist outside of a mad scientist’s laboratory. Dipping into my Persian heritage again the following week, I reduced our second armload of beet greens to a garlicky mass, brightened with lemon juice and served for breakfast alongside labne and pita. The second round of beetroot is still in the refrigerator, taunting me: surely it is too early in the season to be weary of beets! Pickled, grilled, shredded raw into a salad—I foresee many variations on the beet theme this summer.

But my most successful vegetable experiment did not start with our farmshare. While browsing the Brookline market last Thursday for a few items to carry us through the weekend, I heard Kate Stillman raving about the Harukai turnips on the table. The small white “Japanese turnips” were reportedly sweet enough to eat raw and delicious just barely sauteed in a little butter. I impulsively added a bunch to the young arugula already in my bag, reasoning that the latter’s mild peppery undertone would be a suitable foil for “butter” and “sweet.”

Saturday night, I set out the ingredients for a light supper for two. Arugula, turnip greens and another handful from our neverending supply of beet tops overflowed their bowl, but I knew they would wilt to a neat pile. A red onion was sliced and ready to transform into a mellow base for the greens. Garlic scapes would provide a little bite without overwhelming the dish’s other delicate flavors. And, of course, there were the turnips, which were just as sweet as promised before they ever hit the pan. A few minutes in front of the stove, and our early summer supper was ready in less time than it took my husband to set the table and pour the wine.

And how was it? The next day, at CSA pickup, members were offered a selection of turnips to supplement the packed boxes. I did not hesitate before reaching into the bin that was piled high with Harukai turnips.

Harukai Turnips with Garlic Scapes and Spring Greens
Serves 2
Time: 15 minutes

• 1 small red onion
• 5-6 garlic scapes, divided
• 1 bunch Harukai turnips (about 4 small-medium) with greens
• 1 bunch delicate cooking greens, such as beet, spinach, or arugula
• 2 Tbsp olive oil, divided
• 2 Tbsp butter,divided
• sea salt
• freshly ground black pepper

1. Peel onion, halve lengthwise, and slice into thin half-moons. Cut off top of each garlic scape, just below the white bud, and discard tops. Chop bottoms of 4 scapes into 1-inch sections; finely mince remaining 1-2 scapes. Separate turnips from their greens; halve and thinly slice turnips (no need to peel). Wash all greens in several changes of cold water, spin or pat dry, remove any tough stems and chop leaves and tender stems into bite-sized pieces.

2. Heat 1 Tbsp oil and 1 Tbsp butter in a medium skillet or saute pan over medium-high heat. Add sliced onion and cook, stirring occasionally, 3-5 minutes or until softened and translucent. Stir in minced scapes, then add greens and a generous pinch of salt. Cover, reduce heat to medium-low and cook another 2-4 minutes, stirring once or twice, until greens are wilted. Uncover and remove from heat.

3. Meanwhile, heat remaining oil and butter over medium-high heat in a skillet large enough to hold turnip slices in a single layer. Add sliced turnip and cook for 2-3 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add chopped scapes and continue to cook, stirring, for another 2 minutes or until vegetables are crisp-tender.

4. Divide greens between two plates. Arrange turnips and scapes over greens. Top  with freshly ground black pepper to taste.