Farm Bulletin: Regarding Black Radish & Storage of Farm Crops

All farmers must use their powers of divination when predicting not only which crops will do well in the coming growing season, but also what market customers will be looking for in the future. Contributor Anthony Boutard has a pretty sterling track record on both counts, as the line that forms at the Ayers Creek Farm stand—even before the bell rings—at the Hillsdale Farmers' Market attests.

Regarding black radish

Around here, we have a hunch that black radish is the kale of the future, one of those dismissed vegetables that will suddenly become a must-have because it is packed with outstanding nutritional qualities. In particular, it is renowned as a liver stimulant, which is why it is favored in northern European countries where the winter diet is rich in pork fat and the denizens imbibe beer generously to warm the gloom of the shortened day.

Crap, that sounds just like Portland.

Shredded black radish salad with vinaigrette.

To prepare it, we shred the root—peel on—with a mandolin and then salt it heavily for a half hour or so. This tempers its wilder, harsh nature and tenderizes the flesh. Rinse the salt off, then dress it as a salad with either lemon juice and olive oil or with a dab of sour cream. Treat it as you would a pickle, a nice morsel on the plate. Today, Sylvia and I had a mixed root salad with black radish, knob celery and carrots to accompany our purgatorio bean soup.

Adds a peppery crunch to pizza, too.

My father grew black radish and had a special German tool that sliced the root paper thin. He would salt the slices as an accompaniment with beer, and as kids we loved their sharp flavor even before attaining drinking age. I have not travelled in Germany during black radish season, but he told us that the taverns always served these radishes to keep beer steins empty, and to keep the livers working well. A healthy symmetry.

Some people cook them, but that is, for the moment, beyond my ken. Maybe we can get Linda to figure that out.

A Note on Storage

We keep onions, spuds, roots and greens in a cool, shaded, moist location. A breezeway or overhang that catches a bit of rain on a gust is good. A garage is okay if the roots are kept moist. Throw a wet dish cloth or two on top of the roots. Do not let the roots freeze, though—bring them in for the night if gets very cold. Onions, on the other hand, are amazingly resilient. They can freeze hard as a stone and are just fine, thank you.

Our cornmeal is stone-ground from the whole grain, so it is high in perishable oils and provides an irresistible bouquet for pantry pests. The meal is best stored in a mason jar in the refrigerator or freezer.* Glass protects it against odors from other foods. Frikeh lasts longer stored in this manner.

Mature beans and grains do well in a cool, dark place, not damp, but not very dry either. The cellar or garage is not a bad location, provided it is protected from rodents. It is not necessary nor do we recommend refrigerating or freezing them. Cayennes can be stored in the same manner. We deseed and remove the membrane from some and keep them in a mason jar in the kitchen, grinding them as needed.

Whole squash and sweet potatoes are organs of tropical plants, and die if kept in a cold place. They will last upwards of a year on the counter in the kitchen. Keep them at 60°F (15°C) or above. Both organs reach their peak quality in December and January. Do not bother trying this with Brand X sweet potatoes as they may have been put in cold storage and thus are physiologically dead already. Ours are treated with kid gloves because we propagate the new crop from them. We don't even put those we plan to sell into the van until we are ready to leave for Hillsdale, lest they get chilled overnight.

Sliced squash will hold a few days in the fridge. Otherwise, cook it and freeze the puree until needed.

Preserves unopened last well nigh forever in a cool dark location. Once opened, into the refrigerator they go.

*  I simply throw the zip-lock bags in the freezer, or package several together in a large gallon bag. - KB

Farm Bulletin: The Shell Bean, Explained

The first time I saw shell beans in the produce section at the market, I was intrigued. I'd cooked dry beans for years, but had never seen anything like these lovely little beans with their glowing, translucent skins and various colored specks and splotches. Would that I had this explanation from contributor Anthony Boutard of Ayers Creek Farm to read.

One of the earliest vegetable crops we planted at the farm was shell beans. It was one of those odd ideas that got lodged in our heads, yet we were clueless as to how handle them at a commercial scale. A couple of years later we would repeat the scene with flint corn and frikeh. One of the advantages of farm equipment is that you can plow under your blunders and failures, such as summer turnips, emboldening the creative streak. The beans were planted and we began began to practice the pitch. Sitting around on a hot summer's afternoon shelling beans is a great family time, just like shelling peas. Though, truth be told, as children we had regarded shelling peas and beans as a dreary chore taking us away from far better things.

In the spring of 2000 we planted several different varieties. In June, before the craziness of harvest began, Carol took a week off to visit her parents. In a rural country store, she saw a container of freshly shelled butter beans (limas). She joked that it must be a lot of work to shell all those beans. The woman directed her to a shed out back where they had a bean shelling machine. The big green wooden machine had hand-routed on its front panel "Roto-Fingers Pea-Bean Sheller" (top photo, in the Ayers Creek barn). The manufacturer was Welborn Devices in Laurel, Mississippi. A few weeks later, Larry Welborn shipped his first Roto-Fingers west of the Continental Divide. He quipped that it is highly unusual to find any identifying marks on the machines because, once a farmer had one, the information was obliterated to keep it away from any competitors.

The Roto-Fingers is a batch sheller. About 20 pounds of beans are shelled at a time, and it is a very gentle process. All of our dry beans are shelled in the machine as well. Fourteen years later, many tons of beans have gone through this contrivance handmade one at a time down there in Laurel, and it still runs perfectly.

Fresh shell beans are the equivalent of new potatoes or frikeh sans the smokiness. They are still developing their starches, and they have more of a vegetable flavor than the dry forms. Initially we harvested them very green, but over time we found they are better when they have a range of maturities in the mix. Not every dry bean is good fresh-shelled, and some are very dull indeed. In addition, some shell in a messy fashion and take a long time to clean. The beans, shelled or unshelled, should be refrigerated. Part of the mythology about shell beans is that they keep better in the shell. This is not true—the shells are big chunk of respiring tissue which generates heat and often mold in storage, compromising the beans inside. When harvested, the shell comprises between 50 and 60 percent of the bean's weight.

The soldier or johnson is a white bean from northern New England with a reddish figure around the eye that reminds some of a soldier and others, with a less martial mindset, see a piece of anatomy. Use it as you would a cannellino bean, very good in a cold salad with tuna and some minced shallot. Get a bit of albacore from Robin at Wild Oregon, or a bit of salmon. The flageolet is a small green bean which is often served as a side dish with lamb or in a gratin. The name comes from a French wind instrument similar to a recorder. Vermont Cranberry has the most robust in flavor of the three, yet will disappoint you when the beautiful pink bean turns a muddy brown as you cook it. At that point you are left to enjoy the distinguished flavor. A bit of acid will restore some of the markings.

Chastened after purgatory among the berry flats, the staff writer is even offering a recipe in compliance with the essential style manual for market farm newsletters. If you are inclined to ignore such instruction, there are two things to remember. Never eat shell beans raw. You will suffer a stomach ache that you will never forget. When cooking any type of beans, add any acid ingredients, such as tomatoes, after cooking. Otherwise, the beans don't cook well and stay tough. In some parts of the country, they add a pinch of soda or slack lime to the water to keep it on the alkaline side of neutral.

Cooking Fresh Shelling Beans

Judy Rogers offers this excellent method in her cookbook, The Zuni Café Cookbook.

For about 2 cups:
2 c. fresh shelling beans
1 carrot, peeled, split lengthwise and cut into chunks or minced
1 small yellow onion, quartered
1 bay leaf
Salt
2 Tbsp. olive oil

Rinse the beans in cold water. 

Place the carrot, onion and bay leaf in a 2-quart pan and add cold water to cover. Cover and simmer over low heat until the vegetables have softened and flavored the water, about 25 minutes.

Add the beans and enough additional water to cover. Some varieties may turn the water grey. Bring to a simmer then tilt the pot and skim any foam that floats to the surface.

Simmer gently, uncovered, until the beans are tender, 15-30 minutes, depending on the variety and point of maturity. Stir a few times to ensure even cooking and add water as needed to keep everything just covered. To test for doneness, cut a bean in half. The bean should be moist and tender with no pale, chalky core.  Remove the pan from the heat and stir in salt to taste. As it takes time for the beans to absorb the salt, taste the liquid, not the beans for the right saltiness. Stir in the olive oil and leave the beans to cool in the cooking liquid.

Cover and refrigerate up to 4 days in their liquid.

Shell Game

My first experience with shell beans was a disaster. I'd seen them in the store packaged in neat little bags labeled "cranberry beans," their irregular lipstick-pink spots dotting a slightly yellowish, waxy surface. I imagined braising them with some onions and garlic, something simple that would allow their flavor and texture to shine.

I brought them home, stuck them in the vegetable bin and, like so many impulsive purchases I've made in the past, promptly forgot about them. When I rediscovered them a month or so later when cleaning out the fridge, they were not a pretty sight, and I have to say that the shame of it put me off of them for some time.

Then the other night I had braised beans with roast chicken at Bar Avignon, and it was so simple and such a terrific combination it made me want to venture into shell bean territory again. I picked up a bag of soldier beans from Anthony and Carol at the Hillsdale farmers' market the next Sunday, bought some sausages at the store and stuck a post-it note to my forehead labeled "BEANS" so I wouldn't forget. (Well, not really, but I did leave them on the counter just to make sure.)

With some of the last tomatoes and a few leaves of kale from the garden, this easy braise took a little over a half hour to cook and was totally company-worthy. Leave out the sausages and it would be a great side or vegetarian main dish if you throw in some oregano or fresh basil leaves to pump up the flavor quotient. The sausages, of course, could be sweet Italian or any type you choose, but I'd say the simpler the better. Though browning them on the stove then letting them cook with the beans, rather than grilling and adding them at the end, let their juices seep into the stew and took it to a whole different level.

Shell Beans with Tomatoes and Sausages

2 lbs. sausages (I used brats)
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped fine
4 cloves garlic, chopped fine
4 large tomatoes, roughly chopped
4-5 leaves lacinato or other kale, cut in 1/4" slices
1 lb. shell beans
Salt to taste

Heat cast iron skillet over medium flame until fairly hot. Add sausages (in batches if necessary), allowing the surface to get a nice sear but not cooking them through. Set aside.

In Dutch oven, heat the oil and add onion and garlic and sauté till translucent. Add tomatoes and simmer till they start to break down, then add kale, beans and sausages. Bring back to a boil, then reduce heat and simmer for about a half hour or until sausages are cooked through and beans are tender but not mushy. Add salt to taste.

Farm Bulletin: The Meaning of Beans, Pt. 2

In Part 1, Anthony informed us about the difference between Fabaceae, Vicia, Vigna and Phaseolus. Part 2 gives us the skinny on shell, wax and bush beans, plus a long-kept secret recipe for dried favas.

Shell or dry beans. These are beans grown for their seeds, rather than the pod. That is, they are grown to be shelled. Typically, they are shelled when dry, and can be stored for several months.

Fresh shell beans are beans that are harvested when the seed has developed and perhaps nearing maturity, but not dry. Also called "shelly beans" in some regions. Typically, green bean varieties do not make good fresh shell beans, and visa versa. Flageolet, cranberry and cannellini are examples of good fresh shell varieties. They have a tough, tasteless pod and would not be welcome as green beans. All three are acceptable as dry beans, though we prefer them fresh shells. There is also a middle point in the drying referred to as "demi-sec."

Wax beans. Yellow snap or string beans. The yellow color is similar to bee's wax, hence the name.

Bush bean. As the name suggests, it is a bean variety that has a bushy habit. They produce beans in a shorter time than pole beans, and the beans tend to be ready about the same time. The beans that are bush beans include: garden beans (snap, wax and string, fresh shell and dry, green and wax) and bush limas. The tepary beans do not climb, per se, but have a viney habit, sprawling across the ground. This shades the soil around the plant.

The primary virtue of bush beans is that they can be harvested by machine. The machine is called a "Pixall Super Jack." Modern bush snap beans have been bred using a toughness gene that allows them to be stripped off the vine and then spewed into a big trailer where they are piled eight feet deep. A pretty impressive feat in endurance, but not necessarily a culinary virtue. We have found that even the best of the bush beans cannot hold a candle to the best of the pole beans, either in terms of flavor, or tenderness and texture. We wait patiently for the pole beans to mature.

Ful Medamas

Linda Colwell kindly gave us her now-legendary interpretation.

1 lb. favas, soaked in water for three days (refrigerated), changing water twice
3 Tbsp. olive oil
4 cloves garlic, thinly sliced
1 med. onion, chopped
2 tsp. turmeric
2 cardamom pods
1 dried Aci Sivri pepper, broken (or any semi hot dried pepper)
1/2 preserved lemon*
2 c. fresh chopped tomatoes or tomato sauce
1 c. pitted mixed green and black olives, chopped
1 c. chopped cilantro
Water or chicken broth to simmer favas
Salt

Once the favas have soaked, heat the olive oil in a deep pot. Sauté the garlic and onion with a pinch of salt. Add the turmeric, cardamom pods and Aci Sivri peppers to cook for 10 minutes slowly. Add the chopped preserved lemon, chopped tomatoes and the favas. Cook 5-8 minutes to begin simmer, add broth or water. Simmer favas over low heat and gently until favas are tender. They should be cooked in the middle but not falling apart. Finish with a seasoning of salt, stir in the olives, and chopped cilantro.

* For a fast version of preserved lemon: Cut a lemon in half cross wise and slit the sides to the end of the fruit. Sprinkle liberally with kosher salt and place in freezer over night. Prior to using, thaw lemon, rinse off salt and chop.