It is easy to make, and is an excellent choice if you are in a hurry or if the weather is very hot, a condition which causes problems in the making of many cheeses. Queso blanco is often diced into half-inch cubes. That way it can be used in many ways, stir-fried with vegetables, added to soups or sauces (such as spaghetti), or used in Chinese cooking as a substitute for bean curd. It browns nicely and takes on the flavor of the food and spices in the recipe.

• Makes 1 1/2 to 2 pounds
• 1 gallon whole milk
• 1/4 cup vinegar

Over a direct source of heat warm 1 gallon of milk to 180 degrees Fahrenheit, stirring often to keep it from scorching. Maintain this temperature for several minutes. Slowly add vinegar until the curds separate from the whey. Usually 1/4 cup of vinegar will precipitate 1 gallon of milk.

Pour the curds and whey into a cheesecloth-lined colander. Tie the four corners of the cheesecloth into a knot and hang to drain for several hours or until the bag of curds stops dripping. Take the mass of curds out of the cheesecloth. It will be a solid bag of curd. It may be wrapped in Saran Wrap and stored in the refrigerator until needed. It will keep up to 1 week.

Now all I had to do was figure out what to do with these tasty spring gems.  I knew I had bulgur to work with, one of those handy, need-to-keep-in-stock staples that is great served hot or cold.

Bulgur is more than cracked wheat.  Bulgur is made by cracking wheat kernels that have been steamed and then toasted.  This process imparts a rich, nutty flavor to the grain and a minimal cooking time.  For the purposes of salads, I simply soak the bulgur before using.  Cracked wheat and bulgur are often confused and the terms interchanged, but they can not be substituted without altering the recipe.  Cracked wheat is made from whole raw wheat kernels which are crushed and require a longer cooking time.

Bulgur comes in different sizes. In general, fine grade bulgur is used in recipes requiring a short soaking time.  Medium grades are used in baked dishes that are mixed with meats or other non liquidy ingredients.  The coarse grade tolerates longer cooking times without turning soggy and is ideal in casseroles and soups.  You can use them interchangeably, however, by varying the soaking or cooking time.   To use a coarse bulgur in a salad you are best advised to cook it rather than soak it first.

I can’t think of peas without thinking of my late mother-in-law’s Tabouli.  Now, while she was a traditionalist in most of her Lebanese cooking that she learned at the side of her mother-in-law, she was also very much her own person and wouldn’t hesitate to toss in a nontraditional ingredient if she felt it would be an improvement.  And I can testify that peas are definitely an enhancement to tabouli.  The biggest hurdle, however, to making my mother-in-law’s tabouli is that it requires ripe tomatoes.  My dilemma is always, do I make Tabouli with fresh peas (she used frozen) in the spring and tomatoes that are either trucked in from who knows where or do I wait for August when I can pick my own tomatoes off the vine.

I know this is a long winded way to tell you that I choose to make a salad with bulgur and the fresh ingredients at hand.  I also decided to be brash and call it tabouli—Spring Tabouli.  My mother-in-law would probably forgive me but my traditionalist husband and children probably will not.

To make a lovely spring tabouli salad, bring a rather large pot of water to the boil.  Place one cup of fine bulgur in a bowl, sprinkle it with a couple of pinches of salt and pour enough hot water over it to cover the surface.  Let it stand for about 15 minutes until just tender, fluffing with a fork occasionally.  Drain out any remaining water and gently squeeze the grains in your hands, removing excess moisture.  Set this aside.  Bring your pot of water back to the boil and plunge one bunch of asparagus cut into 1/2 inch segments and one cup of shelled peas or sugar snap peas into the boiling water for about 20 seconds, just long enough for them to turn bright green.  Drain and run them under cold water to stop the cooking.  Add them to the bulgur.  Finely slice 6 spring onions including the green part or an equal amount chives and one bunch of small radishes and add them to the bulgur.  Make a dressing by whisking together one garlic clove mashed to a paste with a couple of pinches of sea salt, 1/3 cup of extra-virgin olive oil and the juice from one lemon more or less.  Toss the bulgur with a couple of big splashes of dressing, taste and add more dressing, salt and black pepper if desired.  This salad is absolutely delicious as is but… there were a couple of things I wish I’d thought to add—a couple of chopped mint sprigs and some toasted chopped walnuts.  I think the mint would have added a nice zing and the toasted walnuts would have revved up the already nutty flavor of the bulgur.  Try it and let me know what you think.  Serves 6.

Even though it is not summer tomatoes off the vine season, I would be remiss to not include Sittu’s recipe for Real Lebanese Tabouli.  Wait for the really good tomatoes and you will not be disappointed.

Soak and drain one cup of fine bulgur using the method in the Spring Tabouli recipe.   Stem and chop 2 to 3 bunches of parsley, stem and chop 1 to 2 bunches of fresh mint, finely chop 2 bunches of green onions including as much of the green part as is tender, chop 4 to 5 firm ripe tomatoes and mix them into the bulgur.  Toss with the juice of 3 to 5 lemons, 1/4 cup of olive oil, 1/4 teaspoon of allspice, salt and pepper to taste.  Add one 12 ounce bag of frozen peas still frozen and gently stir.  Let your Tabouli sit for awhile to allow the juices to soak into the bulgur.  You will notice that this Tabouli has relatively little bulgur in it compared to most other recipes and no garlic.  Lebanese like to eat their Tabouli by scooping it up with pieces of Syrian bread torn from a big loaf or leaves of lettuce.  Serves 6.

Sittu didn’t measure her ingredients very often.  She cooked using her innate senses of smell, taste & sight.  I have a collection of notes scribbled while cooking with her.  Quantities were sketchy, ingredients were more predictable.  I encourage you to play with these recipes and make them your own.

Ramps, one of the first brilliant greens to sprout through the damp forest floor, can be found in great clusters, flourishing in sun-dappled shade.

I’m not an experienced forager but Liz is.  We headed out on one of those recent unseasonably warm days with plastic bags and small trowels in hand. As we approached a small bright patch I pulled out my trowel but Liz insisted we keep going.  This stand was too small to be responsibly harvested.  When we finally reached our destination I could see why we had waited.  We were standing in a sea of wild leeks.

The scallion-like bulbs were tenaciously rooted just beneath the surface of the leaf rich soil.  But with a little effort, making sure to dig deeply enough to thoroughly loosen the fragile bulbs, we coaxed them out of the ground.  To keep the patch sustainable, we harvested a handful and then moved five or so feet and then harvested another handful.  By constantly moving we weren’t overharvesting any one area and therefore ensuring a recurring harvest.  Ramps should only be collected when they are abundant and then only dug selectively.

When we arrived back at my kitchen, we soaked them in a basin of cold water to loosen the dirt and then ran them under more water, peeling off the slightly slimy papery wrapper and snapping off the roots.  It might seem like an awful lot of work (or money if you find them in the coop or at the farmer’s market) for a small portion of ramps but the entire plant is edible.  Unlike its over sized cousin the leek, with its tough indigestible green stalks, wild leeks have delicious edible tender leaves.

Ramps will keep in the refrigerator for about a week; store them in a plastic bag with a moist paper towel.  They are not available for long; if you find yourself with an abundance you can chop the green part off, air-dry them for a few hours and then freeze them in airtight containers.  The bulbs are best blanched first and then frozen.

Ramps, however, are best eaten when freshly picked.  I had a wealth of them so I decided to have a one woman cook-off.  I knew I could use them in any recipe calling for scallions, onions, garlic or chives, but I wanted the ramps to be the star.

My menu consisted of grilled leeks, a green salad, a savory tart and a Spanish style frittata.  To grill leeks, simply toss them with olive oil, salt and pepper and toss them on the grill.  A grill basket works well to keep the leeks from slipping into the coals.  Grill the leeks until they are tender and the greens have wilted. Serve as is or use as a garnish for mashed potatoes or over-wintered parsnips if you can get them.

For the green salad, I thinly sliced the leek bulbs and cut the green part into a chiffonade.  This I tossed with dandelion greens, arugula and escarole and dressed the whole thing with a few spritzes of lemon.  The raw leeks gave the salad an amazing flavor burst.

My search for ramp recipes revealed that many people seem to think they go particularly well with potatoes and bacon fat, but, then again, what doesn’t?  I adapted a recipe of potatoes, ramps & bacon employing the Spanish technique of making frittata.  It was really special.

Chop up 8 ounces of bacon and fry it in a 12” nonstick or well seasoned heavy skillet until crispy.  Remove bacon and set aside, leave the bacon drippings in the pan.  Very coarsely chop one pound of ramps including the green part and sauté in the bacon fat until limp.  Remove from pan and set aside.  Slice 2 pounds of potatoes 1/4 inch thick, add to skillet with some butter or olive oil if necessary to keep from sticking.  Add one cup of water, cover and simmer until the potatoes are tender, stirring occasionally.  Drain excess water if necessary.  Arrange the leeks and bacon over the top of the potatoes.  Scramble 8 eggs and pour over the top.  Bake in a 375 degree oven for 30 minutes or until the frittata is set.  Check by inserting a knife into the center if it comes out clean, the frittata is done.  Loosen the edges and bottom of frittata and slide out onto a plate.  Cut into wedges and serve.  This is delicious hot or eaten cold for a hearty snack as the Spaniards do.  Serves 8

The hands down favorite was a delicate wild leek tart.  Line a 12 inch tart pan with unsweetened pie dough and refrigerate.  Sauté 6 cups of coarsely chopped wild leeks (use the whole thing) in 1/4 cup of butter until golden and tender.   Whisk together 4 large eggs and one and one half cups of sour cream with 1/4 teaspoon of salt and 1/8 teaspoon of pepper.  Spread this mixture into the chilled crust, scatter with 1/2 cup of freshly grated parmesan cheese and bake in a preheated 425 degree oven for 15 minutes then reduce the heat to 325 and continue to bake 30 minutes more or until the crust is golden brown and a knife inserted in the center comes out clean.  Serves 6.

Spring kicks off the foraging season, now is the time to harvest ramps, fiddleheads and those elusive morels.  To find ramps, look in moist woodlands or in the produce department of your local co-op.  If you are inspired to harvest your own, please be respectful of the stand.  Gathering wild foods is a satisfying endeavor.

With all this news about raw milk in the papers and having heard my friend Liz wax on about the magical powers and unrivaled flavor of raw organic milk, I decided to visit Live Water Farm in Westminster West.  Bill Acquavita, his wife, Miriam and son, Taylor operate a small dairy farm with a herd of thirty Jersey and Jersey/Normandy cows.  I brought two empty gallon pickle jars with me.  Bill set them under the stainless steel spout of the milk chiller, its paddles slowly swimming, and dispensed two gallons of cream rich milk.  This was not the stuff off supermarket shelves; this was the stuff from my childhood– served from a ceramic pitcher, with a layer of heavy cream floating on top; it was thick and tasted of warm cows.

Arriving home, I found I that in my zeal, I had bought an excess of milk.   I hadn’t made yogurt for years but this seemed like a good time to resume the practice.  I had learned to make yogurt from my mother-in-law when I was just married.  She was Lebanese and yogurt was a major ingredient in many of her Middle Eastern dishes.  When she needed a large quantity, she economics dictated that she make made her own.  She would bring a gallon of milk to a boil on the stove stirring watchfully so as not to scorch — a scorched bottom would taint the entire batch with a bitter flavor.  When the milk had cooled sufficiently to allow her to hold a finger in it for the count of ten, she stirred in some yogurt that had been saved from a previous batch.  The lid was placed on the pot, the entire thing was double wrapped in fluffy bath towels, and left to rest on the back of the stove.  Later that day the pot was unwrapped, the whey was drained off, and the yogurt was ready to use.

If my mother-in-law’s approach of yogurt making is too loosey goosey for you, you can easily follow an in-depth recipe off of the internet or email me and I’ll send you one.
One of the best parts of producing an entire gallon of yogurt is now you get to make lebneh, a lovely cheese, which my mother-in-law made by setting yogurt to strain. If she did this in the evening, we would have a creamy slightly tart ball of lebneh in the morning drizzled with olive oil, served with marinated olives and Syrian bread.  To make your own lebneh; pour well chilled yogurt into multiple layers of washed cheesecloth draped over a colander.  Gather up the edges and tie with string.  Use the string to hang the bag from the faucet and leave to drain overnight.  In the morning, turn the strained yogurt out onto a plate and serve.  For a sweet version of this, add honey, raisins and chopped walnuts to the yogurt before straining.  For a savory version add fresh herbs, chopped garlic, a touch of salt & some cracked pepper.  Your yogurt cheese will last for about a week in the refrigerator, however, that would be rare in my house.

Although not a dietitian, Liz is my go to person for facts about nutrition. She tells me that whole raw milk is a traditional food with intrinsic healing properties.  The cholesterol and saturated fats (butterfat) inherent in raw milk along with its naturally active enzymes, proteins, beneficial bacteria, and vitamins create a complete and properly balanced food.  Raw milk is touted to promote health, protect against the development of allergies and help reduce asthma symptoms.  Pasteurized milk cannot be fully digested by humans and has had not only the nutrition but also the flavor knocked right out of it.

Most milk drinkers these days stick to the lowest fat they can tastefully tolerate; until recently I was guilty of the same.  I am now a complete convert to whole fresh raw milk.  Its flavor and nutritional values are without comparison.   I also like to support local businesses, especially farms.  You can go pick up your own raw milk at the Live Water Farm seven days a week from 5:30 to 8:00 am and 4:30 to 6:30 pm when Bill is milking.  Bring your own clean container, preferably glass.  I recommend wearing rubber boots or old footwear—you are visiting a true working farm.  Your olfactory senses will be sated with the pungent smell of cows, and if you’re lucky as I was, you’ll be greeted by a sweet faced calf ready to take your fingers into its mouth and lick you with its sandpapery tongue.

When spring arrived, there was an abundance of fiddleheads, free for the picking and ready for harvest when they reached a mere inch or two from the crown of the mother plant. My frugal ancestors ate them everyday and cleaned countless more to be “put up” as pickles and pulled out to favor the winter table.

It wasn’t until years later that I discovered the pleasures of consuming fiddleheads. When trying to describe their flavor, many people lazily compare them to asparagus but fiddleheads are a truly unique vegetable.  Their flavor is mild-mannered and earthy; they are pleasurably crunchy with a nutty, oh so slightly bitter bite. Nearly all ferns have fiddleheads, but those of the ostrich fern are unlike any other. No other vegetable matches the curious form and delicious flavor of a fresh Fiddlehead.

Fiddleheads are the whorled sprouts of the Ostrich Fern before it has matured.  Snuggly enfolded in their tightly wound coils is an intricate pattern of tiny, delicate leaves waiting to unfurl. The plump spirals poke their bright heads into the sunshine on the first really warm days of spring ready to be snapped off between thumb and forefinger with the flick of a wrist into the awaiting bushel baskets of local foragers.

Fiddleheads flourish in woodlands and along the shady moist banks of rivers and streams.  Here in Vermont, they grow in great profusion. However, there are many ferns that resemble the ostrich fern that are not edible.  These impostors are considered to be at the worst carcinogenic and at the least to cause severe intestinal distress.   Therefore, I like to leave the gathering and identifying of my fiddleheads to a seasoned harvester.

If you do venture into the woodlands be sure you know what you’re looking for; select fiddleheads with a tightly wound coil and only an inch or two of stem growth.   The best fiddleheads are 1 to 1.5 inches in diameter. Keep in mind that fiddleheads are not cultivated, to maintain their sustainability, three sprouts per plant is the recommended “catch.”   Each plant produces only seven sprouts, over harvesting will kill the plant.  Following these guidelines the ferns will grow to 4 feet tall lush and thick as ever by mid summer.
The quarrel about how one ought to cook fiddleheads spans the generations from old timers to new gourmands, no one can seem to agree.  Some will argue that changing the water during boiling is de rigueur and reduces the bitterness and content of tannins and toxins.  I’ve never found fiddleheads to be unpleasantly bitter and if I thought they were toxic, I wouldn’t eat them.  I prefer my fiddleheads lightly cooked and have never had an issue.  However, if this makes you uneasy or causes your stomach to flop then you should prepare them to your comfort.

For me, if meal preparation becomes confusing or tedious, I just won’t do it.  My children will substantiate this.  I prefer a simple preparation and since I’ve never experienced a glut of fiddleheads (in my adult life that is) I haven’t felt it necessary to overcomplicate the preparation. Fiddleheads are best enjoyed at their simplest; boiled to crunchy tenderness then tossed with butter, salt and pepper.  If I’m feeling adventurous, I’ll add a splash of vinegar, whip up a hollandaise sauce, or sauté with some good bacon and a few mushrooms (the elusive morel if you can find it).  Serve this over buttered toast and you are sure to receive accolades from friends and family.

Fiddleheads are available in the market for only a few weeks in springtime.  I buy mine from the Putney Coop.  Kim keeps a good supply throughout the short season.  Use them fresh, soon after harvest and plan on cooking them the same day; they quickly loose their flavor. Fiddleheads are easy to prepare following a few simple guidelines.  With a sharp knife make a fresh cut leaving no more than 2 inches of stem. To remove any of the residual papery chaff, rub them gently between your palms.  This is best done outside since the chaff is very light and will flutter around your kitchen.  After the chaff is removed I like to soak my fiddleheads in a couple changes of cold salted water to remove grit and any unwanted inhabitants.   Drop them in boiling salted water for tens minutes or steam for twenty, spread in a thin layer in your steamer basket.  A good fiddleheads snaps crisply when raw and after a brief cooking.  Steamed, boiled, roasted or sautéed, fiddleheads are an excellent source of vitamins A & C.  Per cup they contain only 20 calories and have 2.75 grams of protein.  Any way you choose to eat them, fiddleheads are a true New Englander’s reward.

Not that long ago, spring would have been a difficult season to start a weekly food column in Vermont based on fresh, local produce and provisions.  Now, however, thanks to the growing demand for both, and to area farmers striving to meet those demands, one can find plenty of fresh fare to eat and to write about.  With the use of greenhouses and up-to-date storage facilities, producers in our area are able to offer locally grown foodstuffs year round. And, if you know where to look, you can find grass fed beef, hand crafted cheeses, truly fresh eggs, free-range chickens and raw whole milk.

I spoke with David Schoales, manager of the Brattleboro Farmer’s Market, to find out what produce their farmers are offering this week.   At the market you will find baby greens of all sorts: spinach, Asian, mustard, dandelion, arugula, tatsoi, kale, lettuces; also, copious quantities of rhubarb, and, if you’re fortunate, ramps (wild leeks).  He also mentioned that you would find the best selection of seedlings and perennials in the area.

Remember that May is the month of taunting, and while the heat of the middle day sun is warming you at the farmer’s market, remember that when the sun goes down and the temperature drops, we’ll be looking around for a sweater and debating whether to relight the stove.    When the weather tricks the appetite, turn to ingredients that are equally good served hot or cold.  That way, you’ll be prepared for almost anything.  Go to the farmer’s market and pick up an assortment of greens: dandy lion, mustard, kale for a sauté, and a couple of pounds of spinach.  Don’t forget the fresh herbs. I like to buy some potted ones that I can use now and then plant while I await my seed crop.  I chose parsley, basil, dill, and tarragon.  My oregano, thyme and mint are already flourishing in the garden from last year.

You’ll have the option of either sautéing the greens with olive oil, a couple of chopped garlic cloves, a sprinkle of hot pepper flakes and a squeeze of lemon, or of assembling a salad by tossing the greens with a fresh herb vinaigrette, created by trimming the tips off your potted tarragon, basil, parsley, and dill, and whisking them with olive oil and a little sherry vinegar.  If you were lucky, you found ramps.  Ramps have a uniquely pungent flavor, a combination of garlic and onion.  Just wash them off carefully; use the bulb and as much of the green that looks moist and tender, chop and add to your sauté or salad.

With the spinach you can make either a warming meal or a hearty salad.  This is my favorite way to eat Putney Pasta’s cheese tortellini. Slowly wilt a few fat cloves of chopped garlic in 1/2 cup of olive oil.  (To peel the garlic, place the flat of your knife onto an unpeeled clove and wham the heal of your hand onto the blade, flattening out the cloves.  The skin will pop off and the clove will remain obediently on your cutting board ready for chopping.)   Cook one package of tortellini as directed, drain, and while its still hot, toss with the garlic and the garlic infused oil, about a pound of baby spinach, chopped sundried tomatoes, freshly shredded parmesan or asiago cheese, toasted pinenuts, salt, pepper and a few snippets of basil.  Serve immediately or let cool to room temperature.

The Brattleboro Farmer’s Market is open on Saturdays from 9 to 2 in West Brattleboro and on Wednesdays from 10 to 2 in the Brattleboro Co-op Plaza/Whetstone Pathway.  For more information, check out their website at farmersmarket05301@yahoo.com.