Insect Farm, Tokyo

 

I am always happy to get an email from my friend Hiroko and doubly happy when she brings news from Tokyo's swingin' produce scene.

Recently she wrote to me,

I went to a town in Tokyo called Ebisu in Tokyo last Sunday and stumbled upon a farmers market. It was pretty small, maybe too small to call a market, so they called it "Marche" (as if the serving size is always smaller in France than in the US).

She actually wrote more, but of course I was chock full of questions about this first paragraph, and I made Hiroko go back and explain.

What do you mean, “town in Tokyo”? Does Tokyo have towns? And how far away is Ebisu from your “town” in Tokyo?

Hiroko patiently explained,

Tokyo has 23 wards (called "ku," like Meguro-ku, Shibuya-ku) and cities (called "shi," like Tama-shi), and small towns in them. Ebisu is in Shibuya-ku, Tokyo - and is about 15 minutes train ride from where I live. Ebisu housed famous brewery, which produced Yebisu Beer (that is available in the U.S) . The fancy mall where this marche was held used be a beer factory with beautiful red brick architecture, but was kind of abandoned after the shut down of the factory. It kind of reminds me of the the South Street Seaport.

 

Back to her original comments: 

 

Because it was in one of those fancy urban malls it seemed more for tourists than for locals to get fresh produce. But actually there were a couple of good stands - I got some organic herbs and peppers. One of the shops was called "Insect Farm."

 

I asked the lady there what's in the name, and she said "We are organic, so there are a lot of insects in our farm." I thought it was so cute I took some pictures.

 

I was surprised by the routine use of English, so I asked Hiroko, Would the use of English be routine in a tourist area?

 

Hiroko wrote,

 

Yes, pretty much. Train/subway stations, other main attractions of the city usually have Japanese/English signs, some even have signs in Chinese and Korean.

 
(Hmm, so why does Japan have a reputation as being challenging for (admittedly spoiled and self-entitled) English speakers?  Oh, it's spoken English that is the problem, not written English.  And Japanese students typically study English for at least 6 years, unlike the US, famous for its foreign language deficit.)

 

I asked Hiroko to translate the prices and compare them to the standard costs in Tokyo. She wrote,

 

The bunch of sage I'm holding was 150 yen, about $1.25. It's a reasonable price for organic herbs.  [Hiroko, that's cheaper than NYC prices!]

The big bunch of French celery is 300 yen [around $2.50] and a bunch of borage is 150 yen [around $1.25] . A bag of assorted color bell peppers is 300 yen [around $2.50]. 

 

The apples in the photo cost 150 yen a piece and 500 yen for four. The muscat grapes are 1000 yen a bunch. It is a bit expensive compared to the regular market price, but they were organic.

I asked Hiroko if most of the market apples were the Japanese-origin apples that are now popular in the markets here - Fuji and Mutsu. She wrote,

We have quite a bit of varieties -  Akibae, Shin Sekai, Shinano Gold and Kogyoku. My favorite is Fuji to eat and Kogyoku to cook. Kogyoku has tart flavor and crisp texture, and it won't get mushy when cooked.

 

Despite succumbing to the charms of Insect Farm, Hiroko concluded,

That small Marche made me missing Honeycrisp apples, hot apple cider, and other stuff at Union Sq. Green Market.  And I miss Autumn in NYC.

We miss you too, Hiroko! Our fingers are crossed for a visit to NYC in 2016!

What the heck is that? Pumpkin scapes

It was the word "scapes" that first lured me.

To me, the word "scapes" refers to garlic scapes, the stalks and flower buds of a
garlic plant. I have very positive feelings about these scapes.

Farmers used to cut off garlic scapes to direct the plant's energy toward its bulb. (Then one day a farmer realized that the scapes tasted good, really good, and a new vegetable was born.) These pumpkin greens probably had a different path - they were the edible vines of a pumpkin plant, so why not use them? After all, pumpkins are the vegetable equivalent of tail-to-snout pigs, with everything usable from fruit to seeds to decoration. 

Still, I had never heard of eating pumpkin scapes/greens, so I directed a few questions to the seller at the farmers' market.

"Why are these called scapes, and not pumpkin greens?" I asked. "Good question," he said.

"What do they taste like?" I asked. "Ha!" He replied. "Another good question! Someone told me they taste like pumpkins, like beet greens taste like beets. But I really don't know. You should buy them and tell me."

"What should I do with them?" I asked. He smiled and shook his head, then said, "I really don't know, but you can't go wrong-" I joined in here, "...by chopping them up sautéing them with garlic."

The seller might not have been a master salesman, but he had a point about the preparation. What the heck: I bought them.


The pumpkin scapes had something going for them besides their name. I'm a sucker for the tendrils that vines shoot out as friendship-feelers to anchor themselves. I'm always entertained when I see a vine plant lasso in another plant, a piece of patio furniture or anything else in its path - a gate, a broom handle - to support its own stability. Sometimes the shoots are long and aimless, the bid for "friendship" unsuccessful; other ones are kinked and doubled upon themselves for extra strength.

Won't you be my neighbor?

The bunch of pumpkin scapes had no shortage of charming shoots. Some reminded me of old style telephone cords.

It turns out that pumpkin greens are popular throughout Africa, South Asia and the South Pacific. In Kenya, a traditional mashed potato dish called mukimo can feature chopped pumpkin greens. The Malaysian dish masak lemak labu uses both pumpkin flesh and pumpkin greens cooked in coconut milk. Guam, Bangladesh, India, Zimbabwe - all have cuisines that make good use of pumpkin shoots, sometimes simply boiled with salt, but more often seasoned with locally celebrated ingredients such as peanut butter (Africa) or mustard seeds and turmeric (South Asia) - and, of course, onions and garlic. A test nibble on some leaves revealed why no one seemed to advocate for use in salads: many of the pumpkin scapes had a weird, prickly texture. Their taste was mild, unlike the bitterness of many greens, and I suspected I could get away with a quick cooking time.

I planned a garlic saute, but I decided to celebrate the full "scapeness" of these pumpkin greens by enlisting garlic scapes rather than garlic bulbs in the dish.

I gently sauteed some finely chopped garlic scapes in a large skillet, then added the pumpkin scapes, which I had chopped very coarsely.

The cooking time was indeed brief - 5 minutes or so. The resulting dish wasn't photogenic or fit for company - dig those long stems! - but it wasn't intended to be. This experience was a getting-to-know you, focused mainly on taste. 

And taste was in rather short supply. The pumpkin scapes had a vegetal, mild flavor. They lacked the bitterness of greens like broccoli rape and collards, which some might see as a plus, but they also lacked the oomph and personality of these greens. There was nothing to highlight or temper. I definitely did not discern any pumpkin flavor. 

The pumpkin scapes' flavor void was filled by the garlic scapes' ebullient personality. This was not at all an unhappy outcome, but I could have enjoyed the rich, garlicky flavor without the pumpkin scapes as well.

So by all means use the pumpkin greens if you have a pumpkin patch growing anyway. Add the greens to soups and stews for added nutrition and color. Just don't expect this supporting player to become a star.

Washington DC Markets

The Lincoln Memorial.

The Air and Space Museum.

The Dupont Circle Farmers' Market.

Yes, it's a Produce Savant trip to Washington DC!

I hadn't been to DC for many years. On my last visit, I was so produce-starved I ended up buying a banana from an ice cream parlor. But things have changed since then.

I was delighted to find that farmers' markets have become popular and readily accessible since my last visit. When I asked the staff at our hotel about farmers' markets, I received some helpful and straightforward ideas, mercifully free of any good-thing-I'm-paid-to-deal-with-members-of-fringe-communities response.

But we found our first market serendipitously, while walking downtown. This market was held at the U.S. Department of Agriculture. 

The USDA market offered a two-fer: vendors plus the opportunity to see produce growing in the surrounding gardens. The selection of farm stands was small, but offset by the friendly vibe and the extreme convenience of finding the market without going out of our way. 

The market's modest size showcased the courtly manners of the vendors. These manners, coupled with the prominence of certain vegetables like lima beans and okra - while our markets in New York do have them, they occupy less actual and mental real estate - gave the market a semi-Southern vibe, not inappropriate for this semi-Southern city.   

 


Would it be snarky to note that the USDA farm stand that attracted the longest lines featured King Corn? Yes, skip over the fairy eggplant, tomatoes and okra to get to the market's real attraction, kettle corn.

Of course, like all travelers, we had to keep it moving.

Our next destination was the Eastern Market, a public market in the Capitol Hill neighborhood that first opened in 1873 - about 20 years earlier than Philadelphia's wonderful Reading Terminal Market.  Its 19th century building was gutted in a fire in 2007 but renovated and re-opened in 2009. My carnivorous friends were very impressed by the market's butcher stand. For us herbivores, the market was a little small. We were ready for some destination produce markets.

Next stop: the market at 14th and U Streets. 

I enjoy exploring urban neighborhoods like U Street, which added to the fun. This market had a nice selection of farm stands.

Although the prices seemed a bit high by New York standards - more on this later - the vendors did have a more formal system of discounting small and bruised produce than is common in New York.

I have to admit my favorite vendor was not a farm stand but rather No 1 Sons, produce picklers. As a connoisseur not only of farmers' markets but also their signs, I was doubly wowed.

Our final market: the huge Dupont Circle farmers market. 







This one is operated by FreshFarm, which also runs conveniently located markets in neighborhoods such as Foggy Bottom, Union Market, downtown Silver Spring (Maryland) and "by the White House." 







FreshFarm restricts participation to "farmers/producers who sell what they grow, raise or produce on their own farm or facility." All farmers must hail from the Chesapeake Bay Watershed region, which by FreshFarm's reckoning includes a 200 mile radius of Washington DC and the states of Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, West Virginia, and Virginia.


I enjoyed the extensive samples and some C-SPAN policy wonk celebrity sighting. I can't wait for the Us Magazine spread: "Celebrities are just like us - they shop at farmers' markets!" I'm just not sure that pundits count as celebrities.

I couldn't help but notice that the prices at the market - Dupont Circle especially - were steep, noticeably steeper than NYC's Union Square Greenmarket. I mentioned this to a FreshFarm staffer, and she responded matter-of-factly, "Oh, DC is much more expensive than New York in general." 

Huh!  This was news to me (and various chart-makers) - NYC's real estate costs are especially ridiculous - but we're happy to step aside. 

Lest you think the Produce Savant is a philistine with limited interests, I should add that I did visit many of Washington's great museums. Here are some highlights from the National Gallery of Art! 

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What the heck is that? Purslane

One of the fun things you can do in the Union Square Greenmarket is snoop in chef’s shopping carts. Today I snooped in this cart. Sure enough - this seems like the norm this time of year - there was some purslane on top.

Let's go for the close-up:

Purslane is a chef’s darling, but to many folks it’s a weed. As horticulturalist Sandra Mason  writes, "Purslane, Portulaca oleracea, is probably in your garden right now, but not because you invited it to dinner."

Once you know what to look for, you'll find it, as I did, in a green patch around an urban traffic light and in a mall parking lot.

And don't think these purslane patches aren't here to stay! Purslane has made its way all over the world - not surprising, given purslane's legendary hardiness. As Mason notes,

Seeds of purslane have been known to stay viable for 40 years in the soil. You may find that fact either depressing or exciting... Purslane grows just about anywhere from fertile garden soil to the poorest arid soils. A rock driveway is nirvana to purslane... Again depressing or exciting. Running a tiller through purslane is called purslane multiplication.

I first encountered purslane as a desirable vegetable in Turkey, where it is prized in a variety of dishes - stews , meze appetizers, and salads. In New York, I frequently see it sold in the East Harlem vegetable stalls that cater to Mexican shoppers. And it's sold at many farmers' markets, where it is snapped up by chefs and a small but cultish following of laypeople. (And, occasionally, curious shoppers who interact with both groups.) This stand at a farmers' market is hoping to entice the uninitiated. 

So what's purslane's appeal? Of course, if you have a lot of it growing in your garden, by all means forage away. Purslane is extremely nutritious - in addition to being a good source of fiber, Vitamins A, B and C and several minerals and anti-oxidants, purslane has more Omega 3 fatty acids than any other leafy plant source. Chefs like it because it is a juicy succulent with an unusual tangy, almost lemony taste. Whenever I've seen someone buying purslane, I've asked them what they planned to do with it. Here are some of the responses: 

• Mixed green salad
• "Hide it in a sandwich for extra nutrition"
• Chopped salad with tomatoes, cucumbers and onions
• Salad with watermelon
• Wilted, like spinach or other greens, underneath a hunk of protein
• In a soup
• "I'm Turkish, so with yogurt or with lamb"

Purslane does indeed go well with tomatoes - juiciness meets juiciness - and I was intrigued by the watermelon suggestion. Another juicy idea!

This combination was a winner! As it happened, this particular watermelon wasn't that impressive on its own, but as a salad ingredient it was aces. (As an aside, I'm always on the lookout for ideas for disappointing produce (check out some entries in the When Bad Produce Happens to Good People series on this blog), and treating a fruit as a salad vegetable often lowers the bar satisfactorily.)  A good addition to this salad would be something salty - olives, capers - or just some salt itself. 

The other idea that appealed to me was wilting the purslane. Purslane can get a little slimy if it's overcooked, so a light hand and quick cooking time are in order. You could saute some chopped garlic in oil first or proceed without it.

Sometimes I like to eat the tangled web of purslane with chopsticks.

One final tip: Purslane stems may be sold without their roots or with them.

If the roots are intact, expect clumps of sod too.

Give the purslane a soak and thorough hosing.

Give them a haircut too - no need for rat-tails here!

A couple of times I've pinched tip of what I assume is a purslane stem's seed head and planted it in one of my flower pots. The success of this plant plan is by no means guaranteed: I've killed a few "weeds" in my time - this year, a lovely pot of spearmint - so I don't know if this ever-propagating plant will visit me next year. If not, no big deal. That's what farmers' markets are for.

Fruit Seasons In Photos

A colleague who lived in Belgrade in the '70's once described the joy that accompanied the arrival of new potatoes in the springtime, a joy of course based upon privation. "After a while, whatever was in your root cellar was withered, and there are only so many ways you want to eat pickled and fermented vegetables," he said. (Of course in 2012, foodies beg to differ on that latter point. And it's officially a trend!)

I certainly eat my share (and yours, too) of imported produce. But sometimes I feel that same joy he described.  So let's salute some of the seasonal produce of the past year, courtesy of the Union Square Farmers' Market.

Spring and Summer

Sugar snap peas!

Asparagus!

Watermelon - with seeds!

Berry-palooza!

Did you know "green beans" came in other colors?

Are you as corny as New York in August?

Just the tip of the summer tomato tree

Georgia? I'm in a New York State of mind

Fall and Winter

I just learned that in the UK fried potatoes don't count as one of the recommended daily 5 fruit & vegetables. But still.

Savoy cabbage

Winter Squash

The quintessential fall fruit, denying that it is boring (and perhaps inspiring a blog entry)

One of NYC's iconic fall fruits - Concord grapes (plus friends). Oh, if only this was a scratch 'n' sniff website!