The first reddest, ripest strawberries arrived at the Brookline Winter Farmer’s Market on June 9. And they’ve only gotten better since.
We’ll be visiting Lineage, Harvest, Oleana and the Fireplace this week on behalf of the Federation of MA Farmers Markets’ 6th annual Strawberry Fest!
Check back soon to learn how some of Boston’s best pastry chefs are using fresh, local berries in awesome desserts.
I can’t believe this Sunday is the last week of the Brookline Winter Farmer’s Market.
And they said it couldn’t be done. “The Arcade can’t accommodate an indoor market,” they said. “There aren’t enough year-round vendors to participate,” they lamented. “Apart from potatoes and beets, farmers can’t sell veggies 52 weeks a year,” they complained.
Wrong, wrong, and wronger, still.
And here’s the biggie: “Who wants to shop for vegetables in the snow?”
A lot of people, apparently. At times, up to 1,500 a week.
Take that, naysayers. Eating and buying local isn’t a movement, it’s a way of life. Customers are proving it weekly at farmer’s markets in Brookline and across the country. They’re investing their time, energy and money one root vegetable, one dozen fresh eggs or one bunch of parsley at a time, building sustainable economies that support food justice and craft and artisan production. And eating more healthfully, too.
For all my enthusiasm and optimism, I was clueless when I named the market. The Brookline Winter Farmer’s Market? Not so much. I mean, come on. We’re around for 32 weeks a year, beginning in the Fall and running straight on through the Winter until the last weeks of Spring. We’re the Brookline Three-Season Farmer’s Market. And proud of it.
I love a lot of things about the market.
I love the vendors. They’re tops on my list. Without exception, they are intrepid, reliable, hard-working, and conscientious. In a world full of shortcuts, short tempers, and getting the short shrift, they stand apart, as stand-up people often do. They care. It’s really the only explanation, and the only way to be if you’re as passionate as they are about the work they do.
I love the crowds. They every-week regulars who seek out the same vendors and buy the same products weekly to stock their pantries. The pleasantly surprised folks who have discovered us by happenstance. The parents with small children munching on a french roll from Clear Flour Bakery. The elders with shopping bags tied to their walkers. The teenagers who stealthily seek out a chocolate covered popover or Almond Joy cupcake.
I love the questions from customers. Like, what can you possibly sell in the spring? The chance to remind folks about growing cycles, about greenhouse growing, about traditional and modern growing methods is a big part of what a farmer’s market does best. We teach about unrecognizable vegetables, we suggest recipes, cooking methods, how to store or prolong shelf life. Throw away those greens atop the beets? What? Are you crazy?
So, a big thank you to all of you for making us part of your weekly to-do list. An even bigger thank you to Howard Leeder and his team for making the Arcade available for the market. Thanks to our weekly neighbors, the full-time tenants at the Arcade, who have welcomed us and made us feel at home.
Hope to see you all on Sunday, and remember, the Summer market starts Thursday, June 13 from 1 pm to dusk in the Centre Street parking lot.
Chances are, if you had passed through the Valle Peligna between the burghs of Vittorito and Corfinio, Abruzzo, Italy in 1791, one of Alice and Roberta Pietrantonj’s relatives would have offered you a satisfying cup of red wine in welcome. After all, Abruzzo is the birthplace of Montepulciano d’Abruzzo grape varietal and, ‘a bottle of wine begs to be shared.’ 
Fast-forward to October, 2012, some eight generations later, and Alice and Roberta offer similar warmth and hospitality on my visit to the Pietrantonj Winery. It’s clear immediately that the sisters share the same love of the land, passion for tradition and dedication to the family heritage of producing superior wines that predates them by over two hundred years. Over the centuries, and under the keen tutelage of recent relatives, the wine list has expanded to include nine award-winning varieties. Continue reading
“Our philosophy requires that everything is hand-crafted with extreme care and attention, from basic raw ingredients.”
So states chef and cookbook author Yotam Ottolenghi, who brings his rule-breaking culinary sensibilities to five eponymous London restaurants and take-out shops, including the newest, NOPI, in SOHO. His style is innovative, imaginative and instinctual; he is, quite simply, a man obsessed with basic, uncomplicated food prepared from the finest local, seasonal and fresh ingredients.
Last July, I was lured to Vermont by the promise of over 200 artisanal cheeses, and a sampling of more than 20 locally produced chocolates, craft beers and wines. It didn’t hurt to have a chance to be alone with my husband for an entire weekend. The scent of the hay in the air, and the song of the crickets at night were added bonuses.
The night before the Cheesefest we basked in the romantic glow of the waning Thunder Moon as it rose over Lake Champlain, the setting sun casting the Adirondacks in purple, black, grey, and lavender relief across the calm blue water.
Luciana turns toward me, a frown on her beautiful face, her brows furrowed in confusion. “I think there’s something wrong with my gnocchi. Can you taste them?”
We’ve ordered the same dish, potato gnocchi with pancetta and clams, mine sans clams. By the time Lu is sampling her first bite, my plate is practically licked clean, thanks to bad timing in the kitchen, we suspect. Lu knows her food, so I oblige her.
Together for one of our traditional birthday celebratory dinners, Jamesie (the nattily attired birthday girl), Luciana and I are at a newish and much bally-hooed suburban restaurant that will remain nameless. We’ve chosen to come because both Jamesie and I have had great dining experiences here recently, and we’ve decided it’s just the place to celebrate her birthday.
Let me say right off the bat that every restaurant can have an off night. When I cooked for Michela’s back in the dark ages, I had a few perfectly crafted plates of pasta returned for a variety of reasons. (Lack of salt was never one. Anyone who has eaten my food knows of my love affair with salt.) Based on the feedback, I would return a newly prepared dish, keeping the diner’s preferences in mind. Restaurants are a subjective business, and the customer’s ultimate satisfaction is the goal.
This is not that story. Continue reading
