Salad Smackdown: Nectarine and Cherry Salad

Ginger Rapport's newsletters for the Beaverton Farmers Market are worth getting for the information and recipes she shares (click here to subscribe). Her deep knowledge of produce shines through, helped by her passion for cooking and education. Here she talks about the luscious Northwest peaches and nectarines tumbling into midsummer markets.

What is the difference between a peach and a nectarine? They are genetically almost the same with the exception of one gene, the one that determines if it will have a fuzzy or smooth skin. A nectarine is basically a bald peach. They may be used interchangeably in recipes but as far as fresh eating goes, people can have strong opinions about which is best. Many people prefer nectarines because they don’t like the fuzz on a peach. It is more of a textural thing than it is about taste. However, nectarines tend to be firmer, sweeter and more aromatic than their fuzzy cousins.

To peel or not to peel?

Both peaches and nectarines come in “freestone” varieties, which means that the fruit separates easily from the pit and “clingstone” varieties where the flesh clings tightly to the pit. Freestones are better for freezing while clingstones are better for canning.

If you are making a recipe that calls for removing the skin of a peach or nectarine, we recommend the following method:

With a paring knife, make a small "X" in the skin on the bottom of the fruit. Then drop it into a large pot of boiling water for 10-20 seconds. You may do multiple fruits at a time as long as you are able to get them all out of the boiling water within a few seconds of one another. You want to loosen the skin, not cook the fruit.

Roasted nectarines, anyone?

Immediately place fruit in a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking. Starting at the X on the bottom, lift the skin away from the fruit. It should peel easily if your fruit is ripe. If your fruit is under-ripe, peeling will be more difficult and may require a paring knife. (This is also how you peel tomatoes.)

Peach and nectarine season has a very small window where it overlaps with cherry season. One of our favorite—and totally easy—recipes that features both is this nectarine and cherry salad with roasted hazelnuts featuring Baird Family Orchards nectarines, Kiyokawa Family Orchards Bing cherries, and Ken and June's dry roasted hazelnuts.

Nectarine and Cherry Salad with Roasted Hazelnuts

1 1/2 lbs. nectarines (yellow or white) sliced
1 1/2 c. Bing cherries, pitted and halved
1/2 c. roasted hazelnuts, roughly chopped

Combine all ingredients (reserving some chopped nuts) in a bowl and toss. Garnish with remaining hazelnuts.

Click here to get more fabulous peach (or nectarine) recipes for desserts, jams, salads and even cocktails! The Beaverton Farmers Market is an advertiser and supporter of Good Stuff NW.

In a Slump? Just Add Peaches!

On our first camping trip of the summer, Dave baked perfect blueberry scones in his giant, footed cast iron Dutch oven—I found out it's named "Ol' Dutch" from the masking tape stuck to its carrier—and hash browns and eggs over the open fire on his as-yet-unnamed Lodge griddle.

He also had plans to make a peach slump in yet another, smaller Dutch oven ("Li'l Dutch"?), for which we'd lugged it and the four-and-a-half pounds of Baird Family Orchards fruit on our second trip of the summer. Unfortunately fate intervened when I threw out my back, forcing us to return home a day early.

Adding the dumpling topping.

Undaunted, with peaches ripening rapidly and temperatures soaring into the high nineties, it was untenable to turn on the oven, so he fired up the campstove in the back yard. It was both a great dry run for the recipe, which he borrowed from Corey Schreiber and Julie Richardson's classic Rustic Fruit Desserts, and a chance to find out exactly what a "slump" is. (Though originally we had been perfectly willing to try it out on our camp-mates, since we never shy away from experimenting on our friends.)

With peaches oozing out when served, it's divine.

A slump is defined by the authors as a "simple steamed pudding" similar to a cobbler but made on the stovetop rather than in the oven. In the case of this recipe, the fruit is mixed with sugar and cornstarch then cooked briefly to activate the cornstarch and thicken the mixture, then a very wet biscuit dough (resembling a batter) is spooned on top, covered and simmered. The result is a soft, dumpling-like top rather than the drier, browned biscuit-y topping on a cobbler, but this version has a lovely lightness to it that would pair well with cream or crème fraiche.

And yes, you can expect it to appear on some future outdoor excursion. Stay tuned!

Peach Slump
Adapted from Rustic Fruit Desserts

For the fruit:
4 1/2 lbs. peaches
3/4 c. sugar
3 Tbsp. cornstarch
1/2 tsp. salt
2 Tbsp. lemon juice

For the topping:
1 c. all-purpose (AP) flour
1/2 c. unsifted cake flour
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. cardamom
1/2 c. (1 cube) cold unsalted butter, cut in 1/2" cubes
1 c. buttermilk or milk

Peel, pit and slice the peaches, making sure to do this over a large mixing bowl so you can collect all the juices. Separately, in a small bowl, mix the sugar, cornstarch and salt, then add to the peaches with the lemon juice. Scrape peach mixture into a 10-12" non-reactive skillet or Dutch oven with a tight-fitting lid. Let stand for 15 min.

Over medium-low heat, bring the mixture to a low simmer, gently stirring it occasionally to prevent sticking. Simmer for 2 minutes until slightly thickened. Remove from heat.

Mix the flours, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, cinnamon and cardamom together in a large mixing bowl. Add the butter and toss until evenly coated. Using a pastry blender, cut in the butter until it is the size of peas. Add buttermilk or milk and stir until the mixture just comes together (it will be a wet dough).

With a large spoon or ladle, place the dough on top of the fruit in 8 or so portions, distributing it evenly over the fruit. Return to the stovetop and bring to a gentle simmer over low heat. Cover and simmer for another 18 to 20 minutes, or until the dough is puffy and cooked through when tested with a toothpick or bamboo skewer. Remove from heat, uncover and let cool for 15 minutes before serving.

If you want to make this on a camping trip, Dave recommends mixing the dry ingredients for the topping together and placing them in a gallon zip-lock bag, then taking the milk, butter, sugar, cornstarch and lemon (or lemon juice) separately, as well as pans, pastry blender, measuring spoons, mixing bowls, etc. As pictured in the photos, it's super easy to make on a two-burner camp stove.

Cocktail Class: Peach Caipirinha

Peaches are the most seductive fruit of summer: Their aroma, when ripe, is both tart and intensely, beautifully sweet. Just one sitting on my counter can perfume the whole kitchen. Apply slight pressure at the top, near the crown, and the flesh beneath the skin gives way slightly; peeling it is like slipping off the clothes of a lover.

Or as Wallace Stevens writes—so much more eloquently—in his poem, A Dish of Peaches in Russia:

With my whole body I taste these peaches,
I touch them and smell them.  Who speaks?

I absorb them as the Angevine
Absorbs Anjou.  I see them as a lover sees,

As a young lover sees the first buds of spring
And as the black Spaniard plays his guitar.

So the end of summer, to me, is about peaches. In cobblers and salads, stirred into the batter for scones, churned into sorbet, mixed into cocktails we carry out to the front porch and toast our neighbors passing by.

Peach Caipirinha

1/2 medium peach, peeled and pitted
1 heaping Tbsp. superfine (baker's) sugar
1/2 lime
2 oz. cachaca

Place half peach in a blender and purée. Add a few drops of lime juice to keep it from browning.

Trim ends off of lime so white rind is gone. Cut lengthwise and remove pith from center. Slice almost all the way through perpendicular to axis of lime, leaving rind side intact. Slice diagonally a couple of times, again, not slicing through. Cut in half, perpendicular to axis and put in glass, flesh side up.

Put sugar over lime. Muddle gently, squeezing out all the juice you can. Add puréed peach. Put into shaker. Fill with ice. Add the cachaca. Shake. Pour with ice into tumbler.

See all my peach recipes here!

Peach Sorbet, Take Me Away!

This summer is going down in the record books as a weird one, for sure. For the first time ever, I walked on the Oregon coast and, rather than the cool breeze wafting from the ocean, I felt a hot, suffocating wind blowing from the shore. For the last month we've had wildfires burning up and down the Cascades, bringing smoky skies for days at a time—last night the moon looked like a tangerine floating over the city—and today our neighbors' houses a block away are veiled in a grey haze.

Temperatures in the Willamette Valley have reminded me of my summers in Eastern Oregon more than the moderately balmy summers we're used to, and we've had to deploy fans and a window air conditioner to keep the house at a livable temperature for the pets and people inside.

The balm to all this Shakespearean drama in the weather has been, for us, the simple pleasures of late summer that we look forward to all year, exemplified by big, sweet tomatoes sandwiched between thick slices of country bread and the perfume of fleshy peaches eaten out of hand, bursting with sticky juice.

Just this morning I was down at our neighborhood farmers' market to pick up fresh corn, shiny deep purple eggplants and big heads of lettuce so alive I half expected them to speak to me. Dave had put in a request for fruit for sorbet, so a box of blushing Sweet Soleil peaches was dutifully purchased for that purpose. He's just finished churning the first batch, and I can't wait to have an icy dish on the porch after dinner as we wait for the first breath of the evening's breeze.

Bourbon Peach Sorbet

3 lbs. peaches

Juice of 1/2 lime

1 c. sugar

2 Tbsp. bourbon

Pit and quarter whole peaches, leaving skins on, and place in food processor with lime juice and sugar. Process until it's a fine purée. Pour it into a fine mesh sieve (in batches if necessary) over a large mixing bowl and, using a wooden spoon, stir and press the purée through the sieve. (This step is super easy and not time-consuming, so don't let it put you off.) Stir in the bourbon, then place a piece of plastic wrap directly on the surface of the purée. (This keeps it from oxidizing and turning brown.) Place the bowl in the refrigerator for 2-3 hours to chill completely. Put chilled purée in ice cream maker and process according to directions. Place in container in freezer for 2-3 hours (or overnight), then serve.

Peach Season? Make Salad!

A simple salad made from the freshest summer ingredients is always a good idea on toasty summer days when you want something cool and refreshing but don't want to cook. Contributor Jim Dixon of Real Good Food goes classic-with-a-twist in this panzanella featuring fresh peaches.

Peach Panzanella

I came home from the weekend farmers' market with more peaches than I could eat, thanks to my friend Trevor from Baird Family Orchards. I'll be making some desserts soon, but first a savory twist using peaches instead of tomatoes in the classic Tuscan bread salad called panzanella. Like tomatoes, peaches are both sweet and acidic, and they can often be used where you might find tomatoes.

The thrifty Italians don't let anything edible go to waste, and panzanella was traditionally made with hard, stale bread soaked in water to soften, then squeezed to a soft pulp. I prefer to use fresh or slightly stale bread that's grilled or toasted, then cut into small cubes. It'll eventually soften as it absorbs the liquids in the salad.

You'll need roughly one peach for each slice of bread, maybe 4 of each for a salad to feed four to six people. But first thinly slice a red onion and soak it in a couple of tablespoons of Katz red wine vinegar [regular red wine vinegar works, too]. Cut the bread in to half-inch cubes, the peaches into bite-sized pieces. Tear or slice a good handful of basil leaves into thin strips. Combine everything in a large bowl, add a generous amount (maybe four tablespoons) of extra virgin olive oil, a light pinch of salt (unlike Tuscan bread, ours will add some salt, so taste before adding) and some freshly ground black pepper. Mangia.

A Peach of an Offer

A text message from my friend Ann was all it took:

"Need peaches? A friend invited me to come pick peaches from her three overloaded trees. I thought I'd go this afternoon. Want to come?"

How could I refuse to help unburden those three trees? It verged on turning away from a lost puppy or refusing to help a poor lost soul.

In other words, I was so in!

With our boxes stacked in the back of Chili, we arrived at the aforementioned friend's home in the Cully neighborhood to find that, indeed, the trees were so loaded with fruit that several large branches had torn off under their weight. A few ripe peaches had fallen of their own accord and were lying in the grass gently decomposing in the warm shade, but few bees were buzzing around, making our job ever so much more pleasant.

A slight press with a finger into the flesh near the stem gave a good indication of ripeness—a bit of "give" is all you're looking for—and, since there was so much that was ready, it took us only about a half hour to get twenty pounds apiece. Even better, since it was obligatory that we taste test a couple, they turned out to be not only richly sweet and juicy, but a freestone variety that peeled with a simple tug at the skin near the stem. What a treasure trove!

When I got home it was incumbent upon me to make a dessert with them, and with peach cobbler near the top of my nigh-perfect dessert list, I whipped one up and stuck it in the oven. While it baked, I sliced up and froze a gallon-and-a-half or so on parchment-lined cookie sheets to be dumped into zip-lock bags for a surprise dessert in the dead of winter. The rest were made into peach jam in two batches over the next couple of days as the not-so-ripe peaches matured, more goodness to open up in the coming fall and winter, reminding me of that hot, sunny day under the peach trees with my friend.

Peach Jam

The first fruit of the season, whether berries, stone fruits, zucchinis or cucumbers, have naturally high levels of pectin, so you can make preserves without resorting to adding pectin, which some people feel changes the flavor of the fresh fruit.

15-16 ripe, medium-sized peaches
3 1/2 c. sugar
1 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed lemon juice
1/2 tsp. salt

Pit, peel and cut the peaches into 1/2" or so chunks. Put in large saucepan or Dutch oven and add the rest of the ingredients. Bring to a gentle boil over medium heat and simmer until the jam is thickened and sticks to back of a spoon. (You can also do the frozen plate test.)

I like my jam a little runny and it took about 2 hrs. or so to get to that point. I also don't like excessively sweet preserves, so judge the amount of sugar based on the sweetness of the fruit and your own tastes. If the jam is too chunky for you after it cooks, take a potato masher and squish it until it's the right consistency.

As far as canning, I simply take washed jars and fill them within a quarter inch of the top, put on the canning lids and rings and cool them to room temperature, then freeze them. If you have a hot water-bath canner, follow the directions for shelf-stable storage.

Counting My Blessings: Salads with Blueberries, Peaches

I will often begin dinners, not with the holding of hands and the saying of grace, asking the deity to please sprinkle holy fairy dust over the bounty of which we are about to partake, but with an apology. As in, "Please forgive me, my dear family members for whose digestive systems, indeed whose entire well-being, I am responsible for from now until I shuffle off this mortal coil, for I have no roughage or greenery to offer and thus have failed in my duties."

Or something to that effect.

A proper meal.

The guilt induced by these failings haunts me, brought up as I was was by the duty, indeed the holy orders, to build a pyramid based on the trinity of protein, carb and veg. Which means that often you will find me, while the casserole is baking or the chicken is roasting or the pasta is boiling, head down in the vegetable bin searching for anything that might allow me to be redeemed in the eyes of my family.

Peaches add a je ne sais quoi quality.

Recently that redemption has come in the form of little green hallocks of fruit brought home from the farmers' market, specifically some blueberries and peaches, that, when combined with leftover cabbage from tacos the night before or extra leaves not used in an escarole salad, gave me the benediction I was seeking.

Peach and Pepper Slaw with Mint

1/4 head green cabbage, sliced thin
1/4 head red cabbage, sliced thin
1/2 red onion, sliced thin
1/4 c. Mama Lil’s mixed peppers, chopped
2 medium-sized ripe peaches, chopped in 1/2” cubes
2 Tbsp. chopped mint
1/2 c. olive oil
1 tsp. salt or to taste

Combine all ingredients in salad bowl and toss.

* * *

Blueberry, Cherry Tomato and Escarole Salad

1 pint cherry tomatoes
1 pint blueberries
1/4 finely sliced onion
2 Tbsp. olive oil
2 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
Several leaves of escarole, roughly torn
Salt to taste

Put cherry tomatoes, blueberries, onion and vinegar in a zip-lock bag. Shake to combine and place bag in refrigerator for at least 30 min. to marinate. Remove from refrigerator and empty contents into salad bowl with torn escarole. Toss to combine. Adjust salt to taste and serve.

Jammin' with Peaches

My mother grew up in a tiny ranching town at the foot of the Blue Mountains in Eastern Oregon where winters were long and stores were few. Which meant that any fruits or vegetables that grew in their garden or that they could buy from local farmers were canned or preserved for the cold months. During my childhood she'd haul out the old blue and white-speckled canner and "put up" jars of cherries, peaches and jams that would line the shelves of the pantry, releasing the sweet flavor of summer on frigid winter mornings.

I never caught the canning bug from her, but every once in awhile even I'm tempted to preserve a little summery goodness in glowing glass jars. Though instead of lining my pantry they go in the freezer until a piece of bread or bowl of ice cream calls for some adornment. This year's stunning peach crop deserved to be enshrined in jars and celebrated on special occasions, so I did a little research and made the following freezer jam. I think my mother would be pleased.

Peach Freezer Jam

4 lbs. peaches
2 c. sugar (add more if you like sweeter jams)
1/4 c. lemon juice

Place three salad plates in the freezer—these will be used to test the jam to make sure it's jelled.

Peel and dice the peaches. Place in large pot or Dutch oven. Pour sugar and lemon juice over the top, stir briefly and let it sit on the counter for 1-2 hrs. This will allow the peaches to macerate, releasing some of their juices. Then mash the peaches until they're the consistency you like. (I prefer mine a little chunky.) Over medium-high heat, bring the fruit to a boil then reduce to a simmer, stirring often to prevent sticking. Cook for 30 minutes. Pull the first plate out of the freezer and spoon a small amount onto the plate. Let it sit for a minute, then test it with your finger. If it has formed a skin and doesn't seem too runny, it's done. If not, cook for another ten minutes and test again. Repeat until it suits your taste. (I like mine a little runny, the better to soak into a warm piece of toast or melt into a bowl of ice cream.)

Bring a shallow pot of water to boil on the stove and put the caps and screw-on lids in it. Boil for 1 minute to sterilize them. Spoon the cooked jam into clean, dry glass jars, leaving about 1/4 inch at the top. Cap and screw on lids. Allow to cool and then put them in the freezer.

Get more peachy recipes: Bourbon Peach Sorbet, Peach Cobbler.

Peach Sorbet with a Kick

I'm going to say it, and I don't care who hears me. The year 2013 is going to go down in history as one of the greatest vintages the Northwest has ever seen.

What? No, I'm not talking about grapes, silly. I'm talking about peaches. The juicy orbs I've been slicing and baking and slurping up this year have been stunningly flavorful, memorably so. It doesn't matter whether they're Sweet Sue, Red Haven or John Henry, or from old line orchardists like Baird Family Orchards in Dayton or newer ones, like Columbia Blossom in Mosier.

Nary…I love that word, so old-timey…a week has gone by since the beginning of August that I haven't dashed to the farmers' market or to the store to get more. Whether ready to eat right then and there or needing a couple of days to ripen completely, they've rested on the kitchen counter, perfuming the whole house with their sweet, peachy scent. Aaaaahhhhhh!

Pies and cobblers have been made aplenty, and Kevin Gibson's peach and purslane salad at Evoe (above left) was a revelation, but one of our favorite peachy desserts has been a peach and bourbon sorbet that has ended more than a few meals with a sweet bang. Soft, perfumey and with just a kiss of bourbon that underlines and deepens the peachiness rather than overwhelming it, this one is worth saving. Especially in a vintage as good as this year's.

Peach Bourbon Sorbet

3 lbs. peaches
Juice of 1/2 lime
1 c. sugar
2 Tbsp. bourbon

Pit and quarter whole peaches, leaving skins on, and place in food processor with lime juice and sugar. Process until it's a fine purée. Pour it into a fine mesh sieve (in batches if necessary) over a large mixing bowl and, using a wooden spoon, stir and press the purée through the sieve. (This step is super easy and not time-consuming, so don't let it put you off.) Stir in the bourbon, then place a piece of plastic wrap directly on the surface of the purée. (This keeps it from oxidizing and turning brown.) Place the bowl in the refrigerator for 2-3 hours to chill completely. Put chilled purée in ice cream maker and process according to directions. Place in container in freezer for 2-3 hours, then serve.

Market Report: Peachy Keen

There are certain aromas that turn my head when I walk down the aisle of a farmers' market. Basil. Strawberries. And lately, peaches.

There's something about that heavy, sweet smell that almost makes me dizzy, and I invariably pick one up, stick my nose right into its business end and inhale deeply. Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!

So when the need arose for a seasonally appropriate dessert for a dinner with friends, a vision of peaches simmered under a biscuit crust floated across my inner movie screen. I hied myself to the nearest farmers' market and went from booth to booth looking for ripe candidates. When you're baking with these sweeties, you want the peaches to be firm but have some give to them, though not as much as if you were going to eat them out of hand. And they have to have the aforementioned irresistible perfume or they're not worth buying.

I ended up with six big, juicy Maryhill peaches, enough for a decent cobbler, and within an hour had it in the oven. Talk about instant gratification!

Peach Cobbler

For the filling:
6-8 c. peaches, peeled and sliced
3/4 c. sugar
2 Tbsp. cornstarch
1/4 c. grappa, brandy, Cointreau or Grand Marnier

For the biscuit crust:
2 c. flour
2 Tbsp. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt
6 Tbsp. frozen butter or margarine, cut up
1 c. light cream or milk

Heat oven to 425 degrees.

In large bowl, combine filling ingredients and stir gently. Place in 9” by 12” baking dish.

Mix flour, sugar, baking powder and salt in food processor. Pulse to combine. Add butter or margarine in pieces and pulse until it's the consistency of corn meal. Add cream or milk and process till mixed and soft dough forms. Using spatula, scoop out onto heavily floured surface. Roll or pat out, using flour as necessary to make sure it doesn't stick, until dough is the size of your baking dish. Carefully lift it up and lay over fruit.

Bake 25 to 30 minutes, or until the topping is brown and fruit is bubbling around the edge. Let cool at least 10 minutes before serving.

Peachy!

Last weekend was unusual for us in that we had commitments every evening, something we normally try to avoid since we're more in the "homebody" category than the "party animal" section of the social library. But it was all good, from hanging with Armandino Batali of Seattle's Salumi at Foster & Dobbs on Friday to dinner with good friends on Saturday to a knock-out dinner with the bro' and w- on Sunday.

And, since a couple of desserts were going to be needed and I was covering the Hillsboro Farmers Market for next week's column in the Oregonian, I picked up ten pounds of ripe, juicy peaches from VanDyke Farms. With those luscious peaches perfuming the car, it was all I could do not to grab one and slurp it on the drive home, but stickiness is not one of my favorite things, so the box made it back to the house unscathed.

The first dessert was a variation on the cobbler recipe I posted earlier, substituting peaches for berries. The second was a peach and blueberry crostata that absolutely rocked, and is one I'll be repeating with all kinds of fruits as the season goes on.

Peach and Blueberry Crostata
adapted from Bon Appetit's Outdoor Entertaining

For the crust:
1 3/4 c. flour
1/2 c. hazelnuts, toasted
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp. salt
1/2 c. plus 3 Tbsp. chilled unsalted butter
1/4 c. ice water (approx.)

For the filling:
5 large, ripe peaches, peeled and sliced
1 c. blueberries
3/4 c. sugar, plus more for sprinkling
3 Tbsp. cornstarch
1/2 tsp. cinnamon (optional)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

Blend first five ingredients in processor until nuts are finely ground. Add butter in chunks, pulsing until mixture resembles coarse meal. Mix in enough water to form moist clumps. Gather dough into ball, wrap in plastic and refrigerate 1 hr.

For filling, place peaches and blueberries in large mixing bowl and gently combine with sugar, cornstarch and cinnamon.

Roll out dough on floured work surface into 15-inch round. Transfer to prepared baking sheet, centering it atop a nonstick tart pan bottom. Brush dough with egg white, then mound peach filling in center, leaving a 1 1/2 inch border. Fold dough border over filling, pleating loosely and pinching any cracks to seal. Sprinkle crust with sugar.

Bake crostata until crust is brown and filling bubbles, about 55 minutes. Cool tart 15 minutes on rack, then slide metal spatula under edges of crostata to loosen. Transfer to platter.