Blueberries may, quite possibly, be nature’s most perfect food. According to these helpful folks at the High Bush Blueberry Council, they border on some kind of super fruit—low in calories, loaded with fiber and vitamins, and packing enough antioxidants that one might safely hoover up an entire grill’s worth of free radicals without turning into the picture of Dorian Gray. (Have a great Memorial Day, everyone!) In season, Steve likes to finish his morning routine with a fistful of berries dumped into his daily bowl of Greek yogurt. Michelle, less militantly pro-probiotic, prefers toasting a slice of Blueberry-Orange Bread from a recipe in Annie Somerville’s Everyday Greens for breakfast while we still have fresh berries around. The bread, which is sort of like a blueberry muffin in loaf form, is really simple to make and keeps well for several days.

Fortunately Gourmandistan is bracketed by berry farms, our current hauls arriving from downriver in Daviess County while we wait for some Hoosier conservative religious clan (Mennonite, Dunkard Brethren, breakaway Amish or some other severely-dressed sect we’re too afraid to ask about) to bring Northern berries in a few weeks. This slightly longer season has relaxed Steve, who so far has restrained himself to buying only one gallon (8 pints) per week. This amount currently suffices for breakfasts, snacks, desserts and some blueberry preserves so perfectly full of sugary-tart blueberry flavor they’ve convinced Michelle to turn out another batch.  As for desserts, there are few standard sweets that can’t be bettered with blueberries.  Steve eagerly awaits blueberry-peach cobbler, but for now we’ve just scratched the surface with Nigel Slater’s Blueberry Batter Pudding (really just a riff on a French clafoutis):

As this blueberry dawn won’t last forever, soon Steve will up his quota in order to start freezing batches for cold weather cobblers. This will most likely cause some alarm and dismay among his fellow market-goers as Steve buys up all the available berries. But Steve employs several furred and feathered alarm clocks who demand attention at the crack of dawn, so he can be the first in line. Baked goods and preserves are the only blueberries he can enjoy this winter—and when it comes to seasonal fruit if you snooze, you lose.

BLUEBERRY-ORANGE BREAD

(adapted from Annie Somerville’s Everyday Greens)

Preheat oven to 350°.  Butter and flour a 9″ x 5″ loaf pan.

Sift flour, baking powder and salt together in a bowl.  Combine zest, juice and sour cream in another bowl.  Beat butter and sugar until fluffy in an electric mixer.  Add eggs one at a time.  Add dry mixture and wet mixtures alternately to the batter.  Scrape down bowl as needed.  Fold in berries.

Spread batter in prepared loaf pan.  Bake until browned and cooked through (until a toothpick comes out clean), about 90 minutes.  Cool on a wire rack.

About five minutes after his favorite fruit farmer, Sandy Deutsch, made a facebook post about picking sour cherries, Steve called and demanded her entire haul. The next afternoon we faced an all-to-perishable pile of crimson, scarlet and neon red cherries, perhaps six pounds in total, that needed to be dealt with quickly. We also knew it would likely be our only chance at local cherries in 2012. Tiny sour cherries, also known as “pie cherries,” have a very brief appearance at our markets, if we see them at all. They don’t travel well, it seems, and their season is very short—so we wanted to make the most out of this year’s bulk purchase.

We started by pitting a couple of pounds, sitting side by side at our kitchen table with a couple of bowls between us. As Michelle wielded a knife or simply ripped the tender flesh asunder (we own only one cherry pitter), Steve plunged his pitting stake through fruit after fruit, until our kitchen (and especially Michelle’s shirt) looked like a serial killer had decided to stop by for dinner. Michelle used the mutilated cherry corpses for jam, but just like two years ago the little buggers had their revenge—though full of good cherry flavor, the jam turned out too thick and Jell0-ish for Michelle’s taste.

While not a total loss (Steve will valiantly suffer a slightly-chunkier-than-usual bowl of morning yogurt for several weeks), Michelle set her eyes on a new challenge: a lattice crust cherry pie. Once again she waded into the cherries, using the pitter this time with grim determination until she had her pie plate of cherry meat, and shaped out a couple of buttery crust rounds. Letting Steve sleep off a tiring Saturday morning chicken coop cleaning, Michelle patiently cut strips of dough and braided them on top of her cherry mixture. Steve woke to the sweet smells of sour cherry pie, which turned out to be one of the best he’s ever eaten.

The sturdy crust not only looked wonderful, but caged in the sweet and sour cherry filling so that a slice could be lifted and shoved into one’s mouth almost whole. (Not that Steve would ever do such a thing. Not when you were looking, anyway.)

We pickled the remaining cherries in an Asian brine, and look forward to seeing how they’ll taste paired with pork or perhaps a rye whisky drink.

But what we’ll really look forward to is next year, when cherry season will once again briefly be upon us.

SOUR CHERRY PIE

(adapted from Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse Fruit)

Combine flour and salt in bowl of food processor. Add shortening and pulse until incorporated.  Add butter cubes. Using short pulses, incorporate into flour mixture until the butter is reduced to pea-sized pieces. Sprinkle about 5 TB of the water over and pulse to incorporate.  If needed, add some or all of remaining 2 TB of water and pulse further.  The dough should be crumbly and somewhat dry.

Divide dough in half.  Press each half into a disk and wrap in wax paper.  Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.

Roll out one piece of dough to an approximately 13″ circle on a clean piece of wax paper dusted with a small amount of flour.  Place crust in a 9″ (preferably glass or ceramic) pie plate, with a 3/4″ overhang. Brush off excess flour with a dry pastry brush.   Place in refrigerator.

Roll out the second piece dough similarly.  Cut into 1/2″ thick strips.  Return to refrigerator while making pie filling.

Place a pizza stone wrapped in aluminum foil on a lower rack of the oven.  Preheat oven to 400°.

Mix cherries, sugar, tapioca and kirsch together in a bowl.  Let stand for about 30 minutes, tossing occasionally.

Add filling to the pie shell.

Arrange half of the dough strips on the top of the pie, about 1/2″ apart.  Weave the remaining strips criss-crossed over the others.  Fold the bottom crust over the ends of the lattice strips, and pinch.

Brush cream on the top crusts, then sprinkle sugar over.  Dot the fruit in between the lattice with small pieces of butter.

Bake atop the pizza stone until top crust is browned and the fruit is bubbling.  The original recipe said it would take 45 minutes.  It took 55-60 minutes for us, using a heavy Emile Henry ceramic pie dish.  Watch crust closely and if rim is getting too brown, cover the edges with foil.  Remove from oven and cool on a wire rack.

Unlike what one hears on other channels of satellite talk radio (*Ahem* PATRIOT NETWORK *Ahem*), this bit of information turned out to indeed be true. The ice cream was rich and delicious, and much more berry-forward than anything we’ve ever seen out of our ice cream machine. Next time, Steve wants to add some strawberry pieces to the mix before freezing. Though unfortunately for ice cream, the weather has started to improve—meaning more perfect berries that will not be safe from Steve’s depredations.

These are a lot prettier than the ones we made the ice cream with.

STRAWBERRY ICE CREAM

(adapted from Mark Peel & Nancy Silverton at Home) (makes about 1-1/2 quarts)

Stirring occasionally, simmer the milk, cream, 2 tablespoons of sugar and 1-1/2 teaspoons of corn syrup in a 2-quart saucepan over medium-high heat for 20 to 25 minutes. Adjust heat as needed to make sure the mixture doesn’t turn color. When the mixture coats a spoon, remove it from the heat.

Purée the berries in a blender. Stir in the remaining 2 tablespoons of corn syrup and the lemon juice. Add the remaining cup of sugar (or less to taste).

Add the cooled cream mixture to the berries, and quickly blend. Refrigerate until completely cooled (overnight is okay).  Then pour the mix into your ice cream maker and freeze.

Check out these recipes from the archives:

Steve knows that if you want to make it to the top as a Vegas showgirl, you must learn to like brown rice and vegetables. (Spoiler alert: sneakily kicking someone down a flight of stairs also helps.)  Steve would be more than happy to use this blog post to share more helpful tips gleaned from Paul Verhoeven’s 1995 masterpiece (ask him how ice cubes can “lift” your career!).  But Michelle, mindful that this is a family blog, insists on associating ideas other than electrified pool sex with these humble staples of healthy living.

Michelle likes this brown rice-based dish because it’s something you can make in big batches and portion out for a week’s worth of lunches to take to work. It packs enough hot, sour, salty and sweet to not become tiresome (even to Michelle, who generally hates leftovers unless they’re turned into something else) before the servings run out. It’s  fairly simple to make, works with any number of fresh vegetable combinations, and can even be tolerated without tofu. When she’s eating it, Michelle thinks about the benefits of meatless, make-ahead lunches. Steve? He mostly thinks about Elizabeth Berkley’s career.

BROWN RICE BOWL

(adapted from theKitchn) (makes 4-6 lunch servings, depending on your appetite)

Preheat oven to 350°F.

Drain tofu.  Wrap in towels and place under a weight (such as a wooden cutting board or two) for 10-15 minutes to reduce moisture.  Cut tofu into small cubes (1/2″ or so).  Toss in a bowl with some soy sauce.

Spread the tofu cubes on a lightly oiled baking sheet. Bake tofu for 10-15 minutes and flip over. Continue baking for another 10-15 minutes until tofu is toasted and chewy. Remove from oven and set aside.

Cook rice in a rice cooker or in a pan on the stove along with lemongrass (remove stalk after cooking).

Heat some vegetable oil in a skillet over medium heat. Add onion and cook, stirring occasionally, until it caramelizes.  Near end of cooking time, add scallions and garlic, then ginger and red pepper flakes. Season with salt and pepper.

Season cooked rice with soy sauce and lime juice.  Stir in tofu cubes, onion mixture, vegetables and herbs.  Add more seasoning if necessary.

Sprinkle chopped nuts on top before serving.

“There’s only one Derby-Pie®. When you see the name Derby-Pie® and the registered trademark symbol, you know you’re getting the pie produced exclusively by Kern’s Kitchen…”

We Gourmandistanis cannot condemn either trademarks or litigation. Our livelihoods come from creating valuable corporate properties (Steve) and litigating for corporations (Michelle).  So, please, do not tell your friends and neighbors that Gourmandistan is giving away the recipe for Derby-Pie®. That would be wrong—very, very wrong. This is Alice Medrich’s “Chocolate Pecan Pie,” which is very, very different from Kern’s Derby-Pie®. “Chocolate Pecan Pie” uses pecans instead of the walnuts found in a Kern’s Kitchen Derby-Pie®.  (Also, as far as Gourmandistan knows, the words “chocolate,” “pecan” and “pie,” either individually or in concert, have never been trademarked in any way.)

Many who infringe on Kern’s Kitchen’s intellectual property use semisweet chocolate chips which tend to make these pies too sweet for our tastes. Medrich’s suggested bittersweet chocolate really did improve things, bringing out better flavors from the bourbon and dark brown sugar. This recipe definitely elevated our opinion of what we can confidently call the “Big Race At That Track With The Two Things On It Pie.” (Kentucky Derby, Churchill Downs and the “twin spires design” are registered trademarks of Churchill Downs Incorporated.) Also the crust recipe, which called for more butter than Steve’s trusty pâte brisée, turned out rich and crispy, making Steve want to explore this pie again.

We may use walnuts for the next round, and perhaps rum or brandy instead of bourbon. Whatever we do, we would never call it Derby-Pie®. Mock Derby Pie, perhaps—but never, never Derby-Pie®.

Recipe notes:  Medrich writes in her 2003 Bittersweet: Recipes and Tales from a Life in Chocolate that she worked on this recipe “over a period of a dozen years.”  It really is just about perfect.  Although semisweet is listed as an option, we used standard bittersweet chocolate. It was, as the instructions in Bittersweet specify, baked in a 9″ glass pie pan.  In our oven, it took a tad longer than the referenced 10 to 12 minutes to bake, more like 18 minutes. We topped it with some sweetened whipped cream spiked (of course) with a little bourbon. It’s Derby week, after all.

In Spring you can find a number of Louisvillians who will quite possibly bet you they can go Ptolemy one better. They will not only insist that the stars, moon and sun revolve around the earth, but that the axis of our universe pivots on a mid-sized American city built at a fossil-laden kink in the Ohio River. Doctrinal proofs include The Great Gatsby, Muhammad Ali, Louisville Slugger bats, the opening scene of Stripes, and of course “The Most Exciting Two Minutes in Sports.”  (If encouraged, they will also remind you of “Golden Boy” Paul Hornung, Diane Sawyer, Tom Cruise and Modjeska candies.)

We Gourmandistanis understand that some of our readers may not even know of the Kentucky Derby, much less be planning some entertainment around it. However, we do admit to being veterans of decades of Derbies. Recently, a few of you have asked us for Derby party planning advice. Steve’s instinct was to say “avoid them.” Michelle, however, thought it would be nicer to actually try to explore some standard Derby dishes, perhaps making them better. Our first task was improving the foundation of many a Derby fête: beef tenderloin with Henry Bain sauce on Camelot buns.

Despite the beliefs of our geocentric brethren, “Henry Bain” and “Camelot bun” may be gibberish to many of you, and deserve a bit of explanation. Henry Bain sauce is a robust reddish concoction meant to be served with game, but gets slathered on tasteless beef tenderloin at just about every Derby gathering (and at miscellaneous Kentucky parties throughout the year). Spicy and peppery with some sweet undertones, the sauce was invented by Henry Bain, an African American who, according to The Encyclopedia of Louisville, worked his way early in the 20th century from “elevator boy” to “Captain Henry” at Louisville’s tony Pendennis Club. There are about as many local variations of the sauce as there are bad Derby wagers, but this Derby season we chose to start with the Courier-Journal’s recipe, then toning down the spice a bit because we actually wanted to taste the beef and cutting back on the watery Worcestershire so the finished sauce wouldn’t turn the bread to mush. Instead of a whole tenderloin, Steve seared and then oven-roasted a couple of local beef filets that he’d seasoned a few hours earlier with salt and pepper.  Then we sliced and served the beef while still warm on our improved “Camelot buns,” which turned into one of the real “winners” to “show” at our “place.” (We’re hip to track lingo, you dig?)

“Camelot buns” are sort of like Louisville’s Bethel Bakery cookies, only the actual Camelot Bakery closed years ago, leaving various local vendors carrying their particular versions of butter buns. (“CookieGate,” by the way, may be one of the few times Gourmandistanis have ever felt a bit sorry for Mitt Romney, who quite possibly correctly identified the bakery cookies as looking kind of crappy.) Sold in bags by the dozen, these crosses between biscuits and buns are expected to hold up to a hefty dollop of Henry Bain sauce as well as a cold slab of cooked beef, but are too often gummy and tasteless. We were determined to do better, and a bit of searching turned up a rather mystifying recipe for “luncheon rolls” from famed Louisville caterer Jennie Benedict’s recently republished 1922 Blue Ribbon Cook Book that indicated neither oven temperature nor flour amount nor rising time. (Benedict, for those who still haven’t dedicated their lives to learning about Louisville, invented the cucumber-and-cream cheese tea sandwich spread known as Benedictine which also often turns up on Derby buffets, an accomplishment Steve curses to this very day.) Our first batch of these triple-rising yeast rolls was a delicious near miss, but our second effort (with an additional egg yolk) produced almost perfect replicas—the only “blemish” being that they tasted worlds better than any store-bought “Camelot bun.”

So if you must do Derby, do yourself a favor and make some of these buns for your tenderloin and Henry Bain sauce. And remember, this May 5th the eyes of everyone will be on Louisville. (What’s that? Cinco de Mayo? Is that some sort of quaint local festival?) Stay tuned—more Derby dishes are on the way!

BUTTER BUNS

(adapted from Jennie Benedict’s Blue Ribbon Cook Book ) (makes about a dozen)

Add sugar and salt to hot milk; dissolve in yeast when milk has cooled to just lukewarm. Stir in 3/4 c. of flour, cover and let rise for 30 minutes or until bubbly. Add melted butter and beaten eggs, then add enough flour to form a slightly sticky dough ball. Knead (by hand or in a stand mixer) for about 3 minutes, then cover and let rise again until doubled in bulk. Roll out dough to about 1/8″ thickness, then cut into approximately 2-inch rounds. Place half of the rounds in a buttered baking pan. Brush with melted butter, then place remaining rounds on top. Cover and let the rounds rise again until just about doubled in height.  Brush the tops with butter, then bake in a 375° oven for about 10 minutes until golden brown.

HENRY BAIN SAUCE

Blend chutney in a blender or food processor.  If too thick, add a bit of the catsup or A-1 sauce.  Combine with other ingredients.  Season to taste with Tabasco.

Makes 4 pints, which is obviously enough for several Derby parties.  Can be frozen.

Michelle has made a myriad of pies—from savory meat to sweet, sweet berry. A cavalcade of crusts, fillings, flutes and folds have traveled through her hands; hundreds upon hundreds of recipes have filtered through her head. So when the mood strikes Michelle for something sweet (and that mood strikes very, very often whether she acts on it or not), she can take ingredients on hand and pop out a pie. This little lemon tart is one such synthesis. It made a recent appearance in our kitchen, as we’re still awaiting the arrival of local fruits. If you keep discs of pâte sucrée in your freezer as we often do (and you certainly should) the filling is a snap, so you can have a sweet tart treat in no time.

Michelle's great-grandmother's yellow rose, making its very brief annual appearance.

LEMON MASCARPONE TART

Beat eggs, yolks and sugar together.  Add lemon juice and zest, beating until incorporated.  Beat in cream and mascarpone.  When thoroughly mixed, add to the tart shell.

Bake in a preheated 350° oven for about 20 minutes, until filling is set.  Cool on a wire rack.  Dust the cooled tart with confectioners’ sugar.

Serve with whipped cream—or, as we did, with cream whipped with a bit of mascarpone and confectioners’ sugar.