Quack Quack

Ducks are a miracle!

Think about it. They can quack better than anyone, they wear those fancy waterproof bird costumes, their rubber counterparts have been given a very prestigious placement in the bathtub, they can swim and fly, their babies are so cute you want to poke them and squeeze them and eat them whole (ew, gross! Not in a real eating way! In a nuzzling way! Sheesh!), and, ahem, adult ducks might be, um, sort of delicious (okay, yes, in an eating way). And, man, can they lay some special eggs or what? See those things? Green! Pink! Yellow! Brown! White! Big, little! Great work, ducks.

These particular eggs I purchased from Millie, who sells her honey at the farmers' market that I go to in northern Michigan. Apparently, her bees are not the only talent in her household -- these ducks have produced a really incredible product, too. Some of the eggs in the box were so big that the lid wouldn't even close, and some were such bold colors that they looked like they had been attacked by the PAS Easter egg dyeing kit. And that Millie, well, she's a doll. There's a handwritten sign by each of her products on her table: Millie's Honey, Millie's Tomatoes, Millie's Fresh-Washed Eggs, Millie's Herbs. And, indeed, the eggs were possibly the cleanest eggs on the earth, and she was so proud of her ducks that I wanted to buy all the eggs in her cooler.

The eggs lasted for almost a month. They were so special that I parceled them out, one by one, using them in ways that would really make them shine. They made their appearance in an omelet, in scrambled eggs, in pasta dough, in quiche, and one even received special hardboiling privileges. The yolks were deep orange and huge, their shells thick and solid, and everything the eggs touched became gold! More soon, when you hear me go on and on about my new quiche obsession. Unless you think that four quiches in a week isn't categorized as an obsession. Perhaps just a protein interest? An attempt at perfecting my pastry or finding the perfect combination for the custard? Perhaps...an excuse to flaunt my duck eggs? Ah, yes. That must be it.

Phew.

My mission is complete.

Off! Into the rainy morning I went, thinking Asian pears, I'm coming!

And there they were. Waiting for me. Lots of them. And, yes, I came home and promptly ate three of them. They were just like I remembered!

And I did my homework this time. I learned that the variety is Seuri, and it is sometimes called the "bubble gum pear" or "candy pear" because of its super-sweet taste. Which it is. Sweet. I won't bore you with details of Asian pear agriculture, but I will tell you, there are many, many, many incredibly fine details, and it is an amazingly complicated procedure. If you find yourself in need of a quick tutorial, you might want to take a look at this absolutely amazing story of Oriana, who has 500 Asian pear trees on a farm west of Chicago. She has sold her pears at Green City Market for years, but she very recently was added to the roster of farmers at my neighborhood farm market, which suits me just fine. If you can find someone with more of a true passion for Asian pears than her, well...you can't!

So I have fifteen Seuris, and I will visit Oriana tomorrow, and, well, then I will likely complete my physical transform into an Asian pear at that time. (Can an Asian pear write and cook? I hope so.) 

Phew. My obsession has finally settled down. Now that's relief.

Now I can find something else to obsess over, like these adorable, brilliant baskets, or the exquisite simplicity of this incredible new bakery here in town, or this crazy-good chocolate-jalapeño gelato. Or, honestly, just this September weather that has draped its splendor all around me. 

Yes. For good things and pulses of complete happiness, I think it's best to just look around you.

Choose Your Own (Peach) Adventure

Peach Refrigerator Jam

Do you like peaches?

Yes=make this jam!, No=go find something better to do!

If you said Yes,

Buy, find, or steal some really good peaches

Peel skin off peaches

Slice or chop peaches

Put peaches in a big pot

Are you using about 8-10 peaches?

Yes=add 1 C water, No=um, use another amount

Does this seem like enough water to start cooking the peaches?

Yes=go ahead to the next step, No=add more!

Add a tablespoon of sugar or 2 tablespoons agave nectar

Wait, taste it! Don't burn yourself!
Does that taste like too much?

Yes=don't worry, it'll be okay. Add a little lemon juice to balance it out, No=add more

Cook gently, stirring every once in a while

As peaches get softer, mash them in the pot

Is it starting to look like jam?

Yes=stop cooking it, No=keep cooking it

Cool it off for about 15 minutes and put it in a jar

Refrigerate

Are you hungry?

Yes=eat it now, No=wait, don't eat it yet

Clean up your kitchen!

You don't feel like cleaning up?

Right, I don't feel like it=do it later!
Wrong, I can't wait to clean up=do it now!

The Unlikely Pear

Pears are among us, it being September and all (wait, really? It's September? I am so sorry if I was the first one to break it to you. Although it might come as some consolation that September is actually a pretty great month. It features completely delightful weather, a full span of farm market fun, and it still mostly feels like summer, save for the start of school and all. Which is good. School is good.) And so, when one has pears, one often has unlikely pears, and perhaps even a pair of the most unlikely pears. As you will see above.

Exhibit A is a half-pear, half-apple, so you may call it whatever you like, as long as you are respectful. "Fruit mutt" is not so nice. Asian pear, some say. Apple pear, others say. Either way, this thing just wants to be known for its deliciousness and handsomeness. The worst choice I ever made was buying only one of these at the farmers market yesterday. Oof, I panicked! I already was making my way through herds and herds of uptight humans -- I was muled up (you know, muled up) with ears of corn, cabbage, apples, and, of course, all of the other heaviest stuff that they had available. I couldn't carry one more thing! And who's to say that the apple-pear would be a success, anyway? Well, as it turns out, me. It was perfect. Perfect consistency, perfect flavor, perfect everything. I'm one motion away from calling the farm and asking them to save me a bushel of those amazing things. I have no idea which variety it is, though, so I will end up referring to it as the "roundish, greenish, smallish, smoothish kind." That should make sense to any farmer. Nichols Farm, I swear I'm not crazy! Wait for me!

Exhibit B is a full bred pear with special contours and qualities. I am trying to see how long I can keep it. I have officially had it for 29 days, and it is exactly as hard as it was when I received it. The best thing is that I got the pear as a present from someone who knew how much I would like to have a pear that looked like this. And I do! I like having a pear that looks like this. Thankfully, it is apparently a rock, so I will have it forever. Meanwhile, I will wait for more (edible) pears to come into my life. Starting...now.