+of+copy+3+ayib.JPG "The Year is over, but we're still baking!")
Recipe: What To Do With Kohlrabi? Purée It!
These Resprouted Purple Kohlrabi Plants Are Very, Very Safe
Life is complicated. Something as basic as eating shouldn't be, but leave it to us humans to let this vital, natural act all but take over our lives. Even though most of us now have the luxury of hunting and gathering our food from the farmers' market and garden and grocery store rather than out in the wilds, we nevertheless think about it constantly.
But instead of worrying whether we'll be able to take down a bison to feed us through the winter, our days are now dominated by smaller, more specific—and yet still often overwhelming—details, such as figuring out how to produce meals that will simultaneously support our health, our budget, and the neverending desire to lose that pesky ten pounds.
But it's the often ridiculous rules and rationalizations we've come up with that really send us over the edge of edible obsession. You know, those little things that make perfect sense only because you've conveniently convinced yourself that they do.
For instance, some people believe that calories don't actually count if you've snitched the food from someone else's plate. Or that a healthy breakfast can consist of an enormous hunk of chocolate cake as long as it's accompanied by a large glass of milk (this would be me). Nitrate-fearing health nuts will gleefully wolf down a mile-long hot dog if they're sitting in a sports stadium, and people who would never allow a bag of refined sugar into their homes are routinely seen walking around carnivals with their faces buried in clouds of cotton candy.
Some people are more practical, only consuming certain foods if they're in season, or setting spending limits and refusing to pay more than a dollar for a can of tuna or 89 cents for a bunch of parsley. Then there's the inordinate number of us who know that when it comes to eating, absolutely anything goes if you're on vacation.
The Beauty Of Vegetables Is Highly Underrated
Ever since I moved to the country and started planting an enormous kitchen garden, many of my self-imposed food laws have to do with buying fruits and vegetables. If I don't—or can't—grow something, then I have no problem paying for it. I buy celery, carrots, and mushrooms year round (as long as they're the right price and the celery and carrots are organic).
But plunking down cash for so-so stuff that I have in great abundance at certain times of the year? I just can't get myself to do it. Swiss chard from the supermarket? Certainly not. Kale? I can't. Tomatoes? No way. It's the same with basil, turnips, arugula, cucumbers, green beans, lettuce, sweet peppers, pak choy, radishes, strawberries, and all sorts of other stuff. In a moment of weakness last summer I forked over two dollars for a miniscule packet of fresh dill (which grows wild in my garden but never when the cucumbers are ready) and the stress almost killed me.
I do, however, make a few exceptions for year round essentials that I grow but not well (or not enough of), such as onions, broccoli, and parsley. And if I could find a decent source for it, I would probably buy kohlrabi every single week.
Kohlrabi, from the German words kohl (cabbage) and rabi (turnip), is not actually a cabbage or a turnip. Cultivated in Europe since at least the mid 1500's, this cold loving member of the brassica (cabbage) family is low in calories, high in fiber, and a good source of several vitamins and minerals. Although kohlrabi has been grown the U.S. since at least the early 1800's, it still has yet to become very popular.
Sweet and mildly flavored, kohlrabi can be braised, boiled, stuffed, sliced, scalloped, steamed, julienned, roasted, and sautéed. You can grate it into slaw, toss it into salads, slip it into soups and stews, snack on it raw with dip, and stir-fry it. You can even wrap it in foil and grill it. I've seen recipes where kohlrabi was covered in cream, sautéed with anchovies, stuffed into empanadas, fried into cakes, served with hollandaise sauce, and turned into a cinnamon brunch bake. This vegetable is versatile.
Unfortunately all of these cooks are wasting their time—and their kohlrabi. For the only thing you should ever be doing with kohlrabi is turning it into purée. Trust me.
Purple Kohlrabi In My Kitchen Garden
Kohlrabi Purée Recipe
Adapted slightly from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins (authors of The Silver Palate Cookbook)
The Silver Palate ladies, who are self-described kohlrabi fans, say that "kohlrabi, once tasted, can become an obsession, for it seems to exude freshness," and liken it to an almost peppery version of broccoli. They do include two other kohlrabi recipes besides this purée in The New Basics Cookbook, but I'm sure that's only because their editor told them they had to.
Kohlrabi is usually available from May to December and comes in both white- (which is actually green) and purple-skinned varieties. The insides of both are white. Since my motto is Why go with green if you can choose purple instead? I always grow the purple variety in my organic kitchen garden. Look for kohlrabi bulbs that are about 2½ inches in diameter. Any larger and the skin may toughen and need to be peeled, and the insides can be woody. Freshly picked kohlrabi will keep for several weeks in the refrigerator.
You'll need both the bulb and the leaves for this recipe, which is where my problem comes in. By the time the bulbs have formed on the plants, insects have usually ravaged the leaves. (They'll grow back if given the chance, as you can see in the top photo of these old plants I discovered buried under weeds last fall, but by then the bulbs will no longer be edible. Fortunately the young leaves are wonderful in salads.) This spring all the leaves remained untouched, but for some reason most of the plants never formed bulbs. I'm still trying to figure out why; it may have had to do with the warm weather. But I did manage to harvest kohlrabi enough to make one batch of this glorious purée.
Kohlrabi plants are beautiful. Kohlrabi purée is not, which is why I haven't included a photo. This is actually a good thing, because if you believe that guests should only be served food that is pleasing to look at, you can save this recipe for a time when you only need to feed yourself.
Rosso and Lukins suggest serving kohlrabi purée alongside your favorite meatloaf instead of mashed potatoes, but I turned it into a main course and managed to devour an embarrassingly large amount while standing in the kitchen.
I've adapted the recipe slightly, mostly because I'm not the type of person who ever has 3 Tablespoons of chicken stock or 1 Tablespoon of lemon juice hanging around in the fridge. The mushrooms do add a nice flavor, but I've left them out before, and the purée still tasted delicious.
4 kohlrabi bulbs with leaves
2 Tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 ounces cultivated mushrooms (I used Baby Bellas), quartered
3 Tablespoons cream (or milk, chicken stock, olive oil, or water)
salt and pepper to taste
1. Trim the kohlrabi bulbs, peeling them if the skins seem tough. Rinse the leaves (discarding any that are yellow) pat them dry, and coarsely chop. Set aside. But the bulbs into 1-inch chunks.
2. Bring a saucepan of lightly salted water to a boil, and add the kohlrabi chunks. Reduce the heat and simmer until tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a skillet. Add the onion and sauté over medium-low heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring, another 1 to 2 minutes. Do not let garlic brown.
4. Add the mushrooms and the reserved kohlrabi leaves to the skillet. Cover, and cook 5 minutes. Then uncover, and cook, stirring, until all the liquid has evaporated, 3 minutes. Set the skillet aside.
5. Drain the kohlrabi chunks and place them in the bowl of a food processor. Add the mushroom mixture and all the remaining ingredients. Purée until smooth.
6. Transfer the purée to a saucepan and reheat over low heat, stirring, 2 minutes.
Makes 6 portions. (I love that they don't actually say it will "serve" six people, but that it does indeed make six portions.)
So what are your silly food rules? Come on, I won't tell anyone.
Copyright © 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the fresh veggie foodie farm blog where Farmgirl Susan shares recipes, stories & photos of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres—and we're nuts about kohlrabi.
Kohlrabi Purée Recipe
Adapted slightly from The New Basics Cookbook by Julee Rosso & Sheila Lukins (authors of The Silver Palate Cookbook)
The Silver Palate ladies, who are self-described kohlrabi fans, say that "kohlrabi, once tasted, can become an obsession, for it seems to exude freshness," and liken it to an almost peppery version of broccoli. They do include two other kohlrabi recipes besides this purée in The New Basics Cookbook, but I'm sure that's only because their editor told them they had to.
Kohlrabi is usually available from May to December and comes in both white- (which is actually green) and purple-skinned varieties. The insides of both are white. Since my motto is Why go with green if you can choose purple instead? I always grow the purple variety in my organic kitchen garden. Look for kohlrabi bulbs that are about 2½ inches in diameter. Any larger and the skin may toughen and need to be peeled, and the insides can be woody. Freshly picked kohlrabi will keep for several weeks in the refrigerator.
You'll need both the bulb and the leaves for this recipe, which is where my problem comes in. By the time the bulbs have formed on the plants, insects have usually ravaged the leaves. (They'll grow back if given the chance, as you can see in the top photo of these old plants I discovered buried under weeds last fall, but by then the bulbs will no longer be edible. Fortunately the young leaves are wonderful in salads.) This spring all the leaves remained untouched, but for some reason most of the plants never formed bulbs. I'm still trying to figure out why; it may have had to do with the warm weather. But I did manage to harvest kohlrabi enough to make one batch of this glorious purée.
Kohlrabi plants are beautiful. Kohlrabi purée is not, which is why I haven't included a photo. This is actually a good thing, because if you believe that guests should only be served food that is pleasing to look at, you can save this recipe for a time when you only need to feed yourself.
Rosso and Lukins suggest serving kohlrabi purée alongside your favorite meatloaf instead of mashed potatoes, but I turned it into a main course and managed to devour an embarrassingly large amount while standing in the kitchen.
I've adapted the recipe slightly, mostly because I'm not the type of person who ever has 3 Tablespoons of chicken stock or 1 Tablespoon of lemon juice hanging around in the fridge. The mushrooms do add a nice flavor, but I've left them out before, and the purée still tasted delicious.
4 kohlrabi bulbs with leaves
2 Tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
1 large onion, chopped
3 cloves garlic, minced
4 ounces cultivated mushrooms (I used Baby Bellas), quartered
3 Tablespoons cream (or milk, chicken stock, olive oil, or water)
salt and pepper to taste
1. Trim the kohlrabi bulbs, peeling them if the skins seem tough. Rinse the leaves (discarding any that are yellow) pat them dry, and coarsely chop. Set aside. But the bulbs into 1-inch chunks.
2. Bring a saucepan of lightly salted water to a boil, and add the kohlrabi chunks. Reduce the heat and simmer until tender, about 15 minutes.
3. Meanwhile, heat the olive oil in a skillet. Add the onion and sauté over medium-low heat until softened, about 5 minutes. Add the garlic and cook, stirring, another 1 to 2 minutes. Do not let garlic brown.
4. Add the mushrooms and the reserved kohlrabi leaves to the skillet. Cover, and cook 5 minutes. Then uncover, and cook, stirring, until all the liquid has evaporated, 3 minutes. Set the skillet aside.
5. Drain the kohlrabi chunks and place them in the bowl of a food processor. Add the mushroom mixture and all the remaining ingredients. Purée until smooth.
6. Transfer the purée to a saucepan and reheat over low heat, stirring, 2 minutes.
Makes 6 portions. (I love that they don't actually say it will "serve" six people, but that it does indeed make six portions.)
So what are your silly food rules? Come on, I won't tell anyone.
Copyright © 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the fresh veggie foodie farm blog where Farmgirl Susan shares recipes, stories & photos of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres—and we're nuts about kohlrabi.
Labels: food, kohlrabi, recipes, the kitchen garden, vegetarian recipes
posted by Farmgirl Susan at 12:41 PM
33 comments
for more information on the promotion and to see all the products.)
