Strawberries and Cream Oat Scones & A Simple Salmon Berry Shrub

A couple of nights ago, I looked out the window to see the sky stained twilight blue, the last of the day's glow stubbornly pushing against the coming of night. It was 10 p.m. The days of extended light are stretching out toward their midsummer peak right about now. 

For me, this means one thing: it's berry time.

When it comes to berries of any kind, I am a greedy little child. I am a crazy fool who can't stop stuffing them into her mouth. I am that person whose tongue is stained red, purple and sometimes blue, juices leaking down her chin. And I don't care.

Before I lived in Washington, berries weren't that big of a deal to me. It sounds weird to say that now. But, in Southern California, where I grew up, we had citrus - tangy and bitter kumquats that my grandmother grew, endless supplies of yellow grapefruit from the backyard tree. Oranges and lemons from next door. These were the fruits that sustained me.

Then, we moved to the Pacific Northwest. Berry country. While I still love my citrus fruits, they don't grow here and berries have taken their place front and center.

So this is how it goes around here. First there are the local strawberries at the end of May, which last for about five weeks into June. Then in July, there are the raspberries, which I could eat forever. Then sweet and easy-to-love blueberries arrive and stay on into September.

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Cultivated strawberries from Everson, WA.

Around the same time as the blueberries, the wild blackberries appear growing in unruly thickets along fence lines, trails and streets both wide and narrow.

Himalayan and evergreen blackberry varieties are considered invasive ("class C noxious weeds," according to the state of Washington, for those who insist on the facts). I know people who loathe them because no matter how you beat them back from the edge of your property, they just keep returning.

Maybe it's because I'm not from here that I have to say but wait, wait! Taste them.

There is just something about walking along, plucking the blackberries from their thorny branches. Popping them into your mouth and letting the tart floral juices pool on your tongue for a moment before they trickle down your throat. It's intoxicating.

Not only is this is the closest thing any of us get to grazing like a wild animal. For me, picking wild berries is the closest we'll ever come to knowing what it was like before Adam ate that damned apple, when humankind resided in innocence and perfection.

But wait. There is, of course, more. Between the wild blackberries and local farm-cultivated berries, we have red huckleberries, currants, thimbleberries, wild strawberries and salmon berries throughout the woods and free for the taking.

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Wild salmonberries. They look a bit like raspberries. But also a bit like salmon roe. And, they taste floral and melon-y at the same time.

I'll pick and forage enough berries during these warmer months to make different jams, jellies, vinegar shrubs and baked treats. I'll also definitely freeze some of my loot so that during the long, dark months of winter, our family will have these sweet jewels to fill the short days with light.

This year, Kingston and I started our berry celebration once again at Spring Frog Farm in Everson. After petting their big black farm cat sufficiently (per the three-year-old), we plonked our knees into the dirt and reached our hands under the low-growing plants to pick heaps and heaps of strawberries.

Once we brought them home, we cooked up a batch of Rachel Saunder's Children's Strawberry Jam (our favorite) then baked these tender scones for you.

We hope you'll enjoy every morsel.

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Strawberries and Cream Oat Scones
Because this recipe uses oats along with all-purpose flour, these scones are a bit more fragile that you might typically expect. Using the oats is worth it though because the oats bring the butter flavor even more strongly to the fore than all-purpose flour alone would. (Note: Alice Medrich mentions this in the oat flour chapter of her wonderful book, Flavor Flours.) Just let the scones cool for at least 15 minutes and they will be more willing to be picked up and handled by a hungry eater.  

Makes 8 scones.

Ingredients
1 1/2 cup (180g) all-purpose flour
1 1/4 cup (116 g) old-fashioned oats, divided
2 teaspoons (12 g) ground flax seeds
5 tablespoons (65 g) fine natural cane or granulated sugar
1 tablespoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
6 tablespoons (85 g) cold butter, cut into 1/2 to 3/4-inch pieces
3/4 cup strawberries, hulled 
3/4 cup heavy whipping cream, plus extra for finishing
1 cold large egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Demarara or turbinado sugar for sprinkling

Instructions
Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

Place a piece of parchment on a baking sheet. Set aside.

Cut strawberries lengthwise into 1/4-inch slices, then cut crosswise into 1/2-inch pieces. Set aside in small bowl.

Put half of the oats into a blender or mini-processor, whizzing to fine consistency. In a large bowl, combine the ground oats, all-purpose flour, flax seeds, sugar, baking powder and sea salt. Add in the remaining (unprocessed) oats.

Toss butter into the flour mixture, so that all pieces are coated. Putting hands into an offering gesture, place some of the flour and butter into your open-palmed hands. Using your fingers and thumbs, press down on the butter, smearing it into the flour. Allow bits of the mixture to fall back through your fingertips and into the bowl. Repeat until you have worked the butter through most of the flour. You will notice that you can really start smelling the butter, which means that it is warming up and really getting worked in. Toss the strawberries in, using your hands to gently distribute the fruit throughout the mixture.

Whisk together the cream, egg and vanilla. Slowly drizzle it in a spiral motion from the outside in toward the center of your flour-butter mixture. Using a fork, quickly work the wet ingredients in. Take a bit of the dough without any strawberries and squeeze it. If it holds together, it has enough moisture. If it doesn't, add a few drops more cream. Test again by squeezing a bit of dough together. You dough will appear shaggy, but there is no need to fret.

Tip the dough mixture onto a lightly floured surface. Gather it together kneading quickly and lightly. Shape the dough into a 1--inch thick circle. Using a floured knife or pastry scraper, cut in half, then again into quarters. Cut twice more across the circle until you have 8 wedges. (Alternatively, you could use a biscuit cutter and make these into round shapes.) Place wedges on your prepared sheet.

It's best to let your scones rest for 20 minutes, or longer, if you have the time. Place them in the refrigerator or freezer to rest.

When ready, brush some cream onto the tops of the scones. Sprinkle generously with sugar.

Place scones in the middle of oven. Bake for 20-22 minutes, or until golden brown. Remove from the oven and allow to cool for 2 minutes. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Keeps in a sealed container for 2-3 days. Reheat them at low heat in the oven if you wish.

Adapted from Tara O'Brady's wonderful new book, Seven Spoons. Go out and buy it already, people. It belongs on your kitchen bookshelf.

Simple Salmon Berry Shrub

Makes about 2 cups.

Ingredients
1 cup salmon berries
1 cup raw unrefined cane sugar
1 cup apple raw (unpasteurized) cider vinegar

Instructions
Give your berries a gentle rinse and drain in a colander.

Place berries in a medium non-reactive bowl. Crush berries lightly with the tines of a fork to release the juices. Pour sugar over the berries, stirring so that all the berries are coated.

Cover mixture and place in the refrigerator for at least several hours and up to a couple of days.

When you uncover the bowl, you'll see that the berries have exuded their juices and combined with the sugar to form a syrup. Scrape berries, syrup and any remaining undissolved sugar into a fine-meshed sieved over a bowl and press through the sieve.

Combine the collected syrup, juices and sugar with the vinegar and pour into a sterilized bottle or large jar with a non-metallic lid. Any remaining undissolved sugar will eventually be dissolved by the acids in the vinegar.

Use right away or allow to age slightly in the fridge. Your shrub will mellow out and the flavors will come together the longer it is allowed to sit, up to one month. Use the shrub in a cocktail or enjoy simply with some soda water and a bit of citrus.

Note: If you can't find any salmon berries, feel free to substitute another type. Raspberries will do just nicely, for example.

Honey Graham Snack Bars

My friend Kari the travel writer came over with her kids, Grace and Sam, not too long ago.

These kids are full of energy. I mean, taking every toy vehicle available, from the Skuut to the Plasma Car to the old tricycle down the steepest driveway in the neighborhood and going as fast as they can to upending every toy bin in my son's playroom kind of energy. Never. A. Dull. Moment.

They're all about living fully, joyfully. And I love it. My son, Kingston, is a very cautious kind of child, so I think it's great for him to have time with them. We all need some balance, even the three-year-olds among us. 

On the late afternoon that they came over, the plan was to wander together to the pond about half a mile away, fling some old bread at the mallards and wood ducks then come back for a dinner of lentil soup, which I had already prepared.

Pretty simple, right?

Right. If you don't count Sam losing his boot in the pond when, in a fit of enthusiastic jumping and kicking, the blue rubber shoe flew off toward the water, landing with a loud splash, the ducks flapping and quacking in hysteria. (And they thought they we only getting bread!) Then, Kari in her own fit of motherly resourcefulness grabbing Grace's "leader stick," a tree branch she had collected somewhere along the way, to snag the boot and pull it back to shore.

Sam didn't have socks on to start with, so our solution was to take a clean doggy poop bag (oh yeah, good thing the dog was with us), which served as a makeshift sock once it was shoved into the sodden boot. Whew.

We squished along for a bit after that until we all realized that we were hungry! As I searched the pockets of my no-longer-waterproof raincoat, nothing came up. Nope, just a couple of dirty tissues (gross) and an old Cliff bar wrapper, remnants of our last adventure out.

Kari, on the other hand, was well prepared (probably as a result of her years of traveling all over the world). She handed out tidbits of energy bars made of coconut and oats and dried fruit and all sorts of tasty and nutritious things that sustained our little group.

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After we got home and the soup was eaten, but before Grace started singing songs from Frozen for us, I decided that I should be better prepared for the next walk.

So, I made these. I wasn't sure if I should call them bars or a cake. You will find, should you make them, that they are either a dense cake or cakey bars. Whatever you call them, they are packed with enough fruit and grains to sustain you during a long walk, hike, or any other activity that floats your boot. (Sorry!)

Honey Graham Snack Bars

Makes 9 bars

Ingredients
1/2 cup quick-cooking oats
1/2 cup walnuts
1/4 cup golden raisins
1/4 cup dried cranberries
1/4 cup dried blueberries
2/3 cup graham flour (or, substitute whole wheat flour)
2 tablespoons flaxseed meal
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
2 large eggs
1/2 cup whole milk
3 tablespoons honey
2 tablespoons olive oil

Optional:
2 ounces of white chocolate, for drizzling on the finished bars

Instructions
Line an 8-inch square baking pan with foil. Spray with nonstick cooking spray.

Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

Spread the walnuts on a rimmed baking sheet and bake in preheated oven for about 8 minutes, until golden and fragrant. Allow to cool a few minutes, then coarsely chop.

Transfer nuts to a large bowl then add the oats and dried fruit. Add the flour, flaxseed meal, baking powder, baking soda, and salt to the oats mixture.

In a small bowl, whisk together the eggs, whole milk, honey and olive oil. Add egg mixture to the oats mixture and stir until blended. Spread the batter evenly in the prepared pan.

Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until the edges are beginning to brown. When an inserted toothpick comes out clean, it's done. Transfer to a wire rack and cool completely.

When cool, use the liner to lift the cooked mixture from the pan and transfer to a cutting board. Cut into 9 bars. If you like smaller bars, cut them smaller.

If you'd like to gild the lily, melt white chocolate in the microwave for 30 seconds, then check. If your white chocolate needs additional time, add another 25 seconds. Drizzle the melted white chocolate over your bars for a rustic look and a delicious touch. The white chocolate will re-harden, allowing you to wrap the bars to take with you on your next adventure.

Adapted from Power Hungry.

Roasted Carrot and Kale Farrotto

My grandmother was way too busy to cook. After she came to live with us in L.A. in the seventies, she was always going to the dim sum parlor to yum cha with her friends. Or, she could frequently be found riding the bus around the brown, smoggy city with my brother, Simon, making him hand out to unsuspecting passengers tracts and flyers about Jesus and the Second Coming, two things in which she staunchly believed.

Growing up, nearly all the food we ate was Chinese, of the Cantonese variety. We lived in Chinatown and our mother did most of her shopping there, with eggs and freshly killed chicken from the place on Broadway, staples from the shop still at the corner of Hill and Alpine, slippery rice noodles from Bicycle Lee, who pedaled around the neighborhood hawking the most delicious wares from a metal box attached to the back of his two-wheel vehicle. 

The furthest afield we might have gone was downtown, such as the time when Granny (as we Americanized Chinese kids called her) purchased an enormous watermelon from the Grand Central Market, brought it home on the bus, and carried it up to the front steps of our house, shouting, "Ayyyaaaa, help!" because she was about to drop it.

There is really only one dish I ever remember Granny cooking, though: Oatmeal and ground beef porridge.

I know. Sounds a little strange, but it's what she came up with after my sister, Marilyn, learned how to make meatloaf in her seventh grade Home Economics class. The binder in the meatloaf? Not breadcrumbs or milk-soaked pieces of bread, but oatmeal. My grandmother seemed to think this combination genius. Soon after Marilyn made the Luther Burbank Jr. High School Home Ec special for us, Granny began whipping up her deconstructed version, complete with a soy sauce drizzle.

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Images of our oatmeal porridge-eating Granny. In the left photo, I am sandwiched between my mother and Granny.

When I came across a number of recipes recently substituting grains (farro, amaranth, etc.) in dishes where rice might more normally be used, I immediately recalled Granny's porridge. I imagined a pot of it simmering on our avocado green stove, the rich meaty smell floating through the rest of the house. Was her dish such a far cry from other savory grain dishes now in vogue? Maybe hers was a bit more rustic, but it was still filling, warming and worth eating on a cool, end-of-winter day.

When I began to think about it more, it occurred to me that what Granny was doing back then continues to occur today. People travelling across worlds to start over or just to visit briefly inevitably fold into their lives new ways of eating and seeing, thinking and being.

The oatmeal and beef porridge which we ABC (American Born Chinese) kids found to be such a strange combination had been created in the same spirit as that. Granny was taking the old Chinese technique of long-simmering rice and liquid (into jook, a savory porridge), and applying it to what for her was a new-world grain. In the end, she made a dish that was all her own.

Isn't that what the best of any kind of cooking, whether in a humble home kitchen or a critically-acclaimed restaurant is ultimately about -- being creative and using the best of what you have in a way that means something to you?

That's what I strive for, at least, with the hope that it will also taste good.

Speaking of which, this carrot and kale farrotto is something that falls squarely in that category, the tastes-so-good-I-can't-stop-eating-it one, that is. Cooked just like a risotto, using cracked farro instead of rice, this dish is filled with sweet, caramelized carrots and silky ribbons of kale, bits of parmesan that melt into the tender, nourishing grain.

Cheesy, sweet, nutty. This farrotto is something I can staunchly believe in. And, I am willing to bet my Granny would have loved it too.

Hope you like it!

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Let the light shine on your farrotto. Drizzle some herbaceous oil over top. Shower on the parmesan cheese.

Roasted Carrot and Kale Farrotto

Inspired by the many cooks and chefs exploring the beauty and flavors of grains. And by my Granny too, of course.

Serves 4-6.

Ingredients
1 1/2 lbs. carrots, chopped (about 1/2")
4 tablespoons olive oil, divided
1 small yellow onion, minced
2 cloves garlic, sliced
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 1/2 cup cracked farro*
1/2 cup dry white wine
2 quarts chicken or vegetable stock, heated to a simmer
1 bunch kale, stems removed, leaves cut into thin ribbons
1 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/2 cup finely chopped parsley
salt and pepper

Instructions
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Toss carrots with 2 tablespoons of olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Spread in a single layer on a greased or lined baking sheet and roast for 20 minutes, stirring at least once. The carrots should look like they are beginning to caramelize, with dark edges.

Heat 2 tablespoons olive oil and the butter over medium heat in a large saucepan or Dutch oven. Add the onion, garlic and a generous pinch of salt. Cook until onion is softened (do not allow to brown), about 7 minutes. Add farro and stir to coat with the oil mixture. Cook for an additional 2 minutes.

Add the wine and cook until almost completely absorbed, about 5 minutes. Add 1/4 cup of the hot broth and cook, stirring occasionally, until the broth is almost completely absorbed (there should be very little liquid when you scrape the bottom of the pan, but the farro should not be sticking). Reduce the heat if necessary. Continue to add broth in 1/4 cup increments, stirring occasionally and allowing the farro to absorb the liquid almost completely with each addition. Cook until farro is tender but still has some bite. (This should take about 30 minutes.) Add roasted carrots. Add kale and stir until wilted. Cover and let sit for 5 minutes.

Stir in cheese and an additional tablespoon of butter. Add 1/3 cup to 1/2 cup broth to moisten the farrotto. Add salt and pepper to taste. Spoon into shallow bowls. Sprinkle with additional cheese and drizzle with additional olive oil, if desired.

*A Note: I used cracked farro, but you may substitute whole farro if you wish. Please keep in mind that you'll need to cook the whole farro for much longer.