As I was saying . . .

Ahem. Where was I? Oh yes. 

5TH OF JULY BUT STILL CELEBRATORY SUPPER

Salad of Bulgar, Steamed Green Beans and Kale, Sautéed Fennel

Fried Veggie Sausages with Caramelised Onions

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Caraway Rye Bread

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Rhubarb and Blueberry Crumble

SALAD OF BULGAR, GREEN BEANS, KALE, AND FENNEL

Mum's been on a Grain Salad kick lately. Now, by "kick" I do not mean "cooking a lot of them." I mean, "leaving the Mark Bittman article in the Times magazine out on the kitchen table and saying things like "That looks really good. I'd love to eat that."

Subtlety = not really her strong point

Anyway. The good thing about her newfound obsession is that I totally share it. I LOVE grain salads because they involve two of my favourite things: veggies and carbs. But the best thing about them (as Bittman says and shows with his handy dandy interactive graphic) is that they are so open to experimentation.You can seriously combine almost anything and still come out the other end with something delicious, healthy, and (importantly) pretty. For Mum's birthday I made the Artichoke, Pea, and Fennel salad with Farro which [that's the sound of a Beetle Horn, you guys] was a success. Plus it had the added benefit of serving artichokes to people who (for some reason that still escapes me and probably always will) like them. 

Whatever. 

For this one, I went a bit lighter with the veggies so that the grain could stand out even more. I felt like the Farro had been more of a taste afterthought than a proper ingredient, you know? It was a plus one as opposed to a legit invited guest. 

That decision was really made by the veggies in question: green beans and kale, both of which were delightfully spontaneous choices at the farmstand. There are few things you need to do to either of them to make them better than they are, and a quick steam for both leaves them still crunchy, green, and flavourful. I am always happy when I get green beans that are not cooked to death, and, um, actually still bright green. The kale in question was even cute little baby kale, which is a) adorbs and b) has a much sweeter, lighter taste than its stronger and sometimes bitter older brother. (did I just write a new ABC primetime drama? I think I did.) 

The green beans steamed first, then the kale in two batches (it goes in so big and yet reduces to nothing almost at once) but literally 6 minutes for the green beans and maybe 3 for the kale and the show was over.

Now, steamed veggies are all well and good, and goodness knows I pretty much live off of them, but one does have to have a bit of flavour. And that's where sauteed fennel comes in. First off, Fennel is amazing. Let's just get that out there. It's got that awesome onion / leek undertone but on top there's this amazing licorice sweetness that you don't get with anything else. When you saute it, that sweetness really comes out, and you get something that's almost a caramelised onion but SO MUCH MORE, YOU GUYS. SO. MUCH. MORE. I sliced it fairly thickly, so instead of tiny pieces you really got these hunks of smoky, spicy, sweetness that were perfect with steamed beans and kale. 

I mean we almost didn't need the bulgar . . . but yeah, we did. 

Bulgar has a very nutty taste almost like quinoa but not quite. Sorry, that's a sucky description but I'm not sure how else to phrase it. I guess maybe halfway between quinoa and brown rice? How's that? I hadn't realised but was delighted to discover that Wooster was one of the uninitiated. So the first few minutes of Friday night supper went thusly: 

W: So what's the grain here?

Me: Bulgar.

W: [happily] I've never had this before!

Me: Really? Isn't it so good? 

W: [really happily] It's really good!

[ten minutes go by]

W: [reaching for thirds, CRAZY SUPER HAPPILY] Turns out, I LOVE BULGAR!

So there you have it, dear reader. Put the bulgar on first as it will take about 25 minutes to simmer. Steam the beans and kale and toss them together in a large bowl with a tiny bit of olive oil and salt. Take the bulgar off the heat, make sure all the water has absorbed, and mix that in. Let the fennel cook for about 15 minutes to really get it good and cooked and brown. Then when it's done spread it over the top (if you can avoid eating all of it directly out of the pan, that is, thank goodness it was still hotter than hell when I did it). 

Spread prettily over the top. Like you do. 

FRIED SAUSAGES WITH CARAMELISED ONIONS

I shall not, dear reader, insult your intelligence by telling you how to fry sausages. It's one of the basic skills of like and if you don't know how then a) you probably aren't reading this blog anyway and b) YOU SHOULD REALLY GET ON THAT ALREADY. Again, contents of your sausage is totally up to you. Meat or soy protein, you call it. Both are delicious. And I know I don't have to tell you that caramelised onions are one of the greatest gifts ever given to mankind. Holy Hell they are awesome. 

AWESOME. 

Fry the onions first (I used two small white ones) and throw the sausages on after that so that they can absorb some of the taste. When the sausages are done (cooking time dependent on what kind, obvs) and nice and brown and awesomely-fried looking [see below, these were GLORIOUS] plate them on top so that they can be served up all together. That is the point, after all. 

The accompaniment for these was the Caraway Rye Bread I'd made the day before. The bread that Beatrice said was "perfect for sausages and mustard." So . . . 

BEATRICE DOESN'T JOKE AROUND, YOU GUYS.
SHE WOULD NEVER MAKE A STATEMENT LIKE THAT UNLESS IT WAS TRUE.

And now for pudding . . . 

I'm sure you know where I'm going with this.

And this. 

Yep.

RHUBARB BLUEBERRY CRUMBLE

Again, I've made this before, and it's the basic Joy of Cooking recipe for a fruit crumble, adjusted to my own personal opinions on just how much topping should be involved, and the fruits being used. Here's a link for a close online approximation of what I was working off. The basic idea here, you guys, is that you can't go wrong. You're making something that involves berries, sugar, oatmeal, and cinnamon. You really have to WORK and screwing this one up to the point that it doesn't taste awesome. 

The best part of this crumble is that WE GOT REAL BLUEBERRIES. Allow me to explain. 

These are not blueberries. 

THESE are blueberries. 

The above are giant, tasteless, genetically enhanced THINGS that have nothing to recommend them to the culinary world at large. They are almost always from New Jersey which . . . I'M JUST SAYING. 

The below are perfect, tiny, sweet yet strong MAINE BLUEBERRIES. They are bursting with flavour, and are the only things that I actually consider "blueberries." In Maine, you literally step out your door and there's a bush of them waiting to be picked. And then you can pretend that you are Sal in Blueberries for Sal and eat them all before they hit the bucket and then maybe run into a baby bear except hopefully not because then the Momma Bear would NOT, as Robert McCloskey would have you believe, let you escape alive. She would in fact eat your head. 

[Beetle Note: It must be noted that however much I love blueberries and blueberry picking, I am sorry but One Morning in Maine is SO. VASTLY. SUPERIOR. in terms of literary merit and awesomeness. I know I'm in the minority here but I don't care.] 

It was lucky, therefore, that the farmstand had actual blueberries. Otherwise it would have been a very different crumble. And that would have been sad. 



It's really almost red white and blue . . . HOW ABOUT THAT? 

I ended up doubling the topping because I like a crumble to be nice and covered. Also, it was a lot of rhubarb and a lot of blueberries. I left it in the oven for a bit longer to compensate for enhanced volume, and I can't really say anything but . . . 

I will close with a few pictures of the table:

And also by saying that in keeping with the "Ostensibly Patriotic yet Really Monarchical" Theme of the weekend, we watched a movie based on a French comic book rather than Mariah Carey signing "Hero" Meghan Hilty singing "God Bless America." We did not regret our decision.

So that, dear readers, is the last big post before I GO OFF TO TEACH. I'm headed out Saturday morning and will be setting up my classroom bright and early on Monday. [eep. starts hyperventilating and dies.] 

I shall I think have a few more baked items to share with you in the next week or so, but please don't forget me if I don't have time to chat as much as I do now. I shall be nurturing young minds and training up the future Pulitzers of tomorrow, etc., and I couldn't be more excited. But I don't like neglecting you.  

I hope that you will still love me when I return . . .