lamb abbey orchards

Kim: That's so damn cute. What a wonderful story. Thanks for sharing it. John

Sugarella: They weren't 'canned' in the way you'd can peaches or tomatoes. The prunes, sugar syrup and armagnac were heated as in the recipe, put into a large wide-mouthed sterile jar with a wire bale, and simple put on the shelf in a dark, cool pantry. We didn't bother refrigerating them because the prunes were completely covered with armagnac. I had a few last night and they were quite wonderful. John

I have never understood our culture's fascination with mayonnaise. I've always viewed it is the culinary equivalent of pus. If you want to make a decent turkey sandwich, you need only use the following ingredients: Sliced Smoked Turkey A few leaves of lettuce (preferable Bibb or Romaine) One Ripe Avocado Bread & Butter Pickle Slices (optional) I prefer it on toasted wholewheat flatbread, but I think the bread is a matter of personal taste. What's mandatory is the avocado, preferably mashed to the consistency of guacomole and liberally spread on both pieces of toasted bread where the mayonnaise should never have been in the first place. I sometimes throw a clove or two of minced garlic into the avocado mix as well. Let me know what you think if you make one John

I was reading through the suggestions for new ice cream flavors and ran across someone's idea for Prune & Armagnac ice cream. It made me realize that I've got a rather large glass container full of dried organic plums that have been sitting in a high quality armagnac for the last two years. My ex said he loved them over vanilla ice cream, but I've yet to try them. I'm sure they're still quite good. I checked them a few minutes ago and they were all quite plump and smelled rather boozy. I think it's safe to say the plums are drunk. By the way, they've been kept in a cool dark space in the pantry, sealed for the last 24 months. I just broke the seal. Aside from having them over ice cream, how else can they be used? Any suggestions? John P.S. I just Googled Prunes in Armagnac and found a wonderful page on The Splendid Table website, for anyone who may be interested: Prunes in Armagnac It recommends them not only over vanilla ice cream, but coffee as well. I think I may go with the latter. I'd love to hear any other recipes though. Thanks!

My ex and I made a huge jar (at his persuading) of dried organic plums in a high quality armagnac. They've been soaking in that liquor for the last 2 years and I never even thought to use them, not knowing quite what to do with them. I'm sure they're still good, considering the amount of armagnac that was used. So they're good on ice cream? Tell me more. I'd like to use them. John

I think Ben & Jerry's should create a flavor as an homage to Elvis' favorite sandwich: Grilled Peanut Butter with Bacon and Bananas. Given that a grilled PB B and B is usually grilled with butter, I'd probably go with hunks of Reese's style peanut butter woven throughout a butter brickle base with crispy bacon pieces and whole banana slices. The bacon is a necessity though. Maybe call it something like Heavenly Hounddog. . . I'd certainly buy it John

I'm guessing Alliumphobia isn't just a fear of garlic, but encompasses the whole Allium family (Garlic, Leeks, Shallots and Onions). It would probably even include the fear of those huge Giant Alliums that look like one of those huge pink Hostess Snowballs on a stick. . . Frankly, I think Hostess Snowballs are reason alone to be very afraid. John

Freud would have a heyday with this one . . . When I was a kid I refused to eat hot dogs unless the freaky looking ends were cut off of them. And I'm not even Jewish. Fortunately, I got over it by the time I was 8. And now I'm a card-carrying homosexual. Go figure. John

Ludja: I don't know much about the pears being grown abroad. Most of the varieties I'm growing are old French varieties, many of which I believe are still quite popular in France. Outside of France though, I couldn't tell you. The Welsh Perry Pears I imported were ones that I discovered on the website for the Welsh Perry and Cider Society: www.welshcider.co.uk. One pear in particular just fascinates me. It's about the size of a ping pong ball (see photo above) and earned the comical name Bastard St. Brides because it was such a bastard to collect off the ground once it had fallen. Thanks for the reply John

Russ: Those are both terrific! Thanks for sharing them. There is something quite amazing about eating a ripe comice and having all of that nectar run down your chin and down your arm. The Quinn quote, albeit a bit gloomy, is going up on the wall in my office. Cheers, John

Stephen: Thanks for the mention of the New Yorker article. I wasn't aware of it. I'm going to track down a copy. Cheers, John

Russ: Thanks for all of the great information. Agreed, the major pear varieties currently on the market are indeed old, old varieties. I'm guessing their predominance in the market is also very much attributed to the fact these varieties are good producers and don't have the disease susceptability that many varieties do (i.e. fireblight). The only exception to this that I'm aware of is the Comice (Royal Riviera) which is quite finicky and tough to grow, but Harry & David seems to have cracked this nut. I picked up a copy of The Book of Pears from amazon.com a year ago and found it to be an amazing little guide (and inexpensive, too) to the world of pears. I will look for a used copy of UP Hedrick's book too There are many old pears that are just sublime. Their flavor and texture and honeyed-sweetness would even exceed a perfectly ripened Comice. But they're quite rare and virtually impossible to find either because they don't ship well, don't have a long storage life, are too small, or because of light cropping are simply too expensive to produce in volume. The White Doyenne is a classic example. I believe it's Alice Waters' (Chez Panisse) favorite pear, but you'll never find it in a grocery store. You've got to know someone who's growing it. I'm growing many of these wonderful old varieties, but unfortunately they probably won't be available to anyone via shipping. They'll need to be gotten at a farmer's market in Maine. You bring up an interesting point about the cost of developing new pear varieties and the fact that pears are easily overshadowed by apples in the marketplace. One of things that surprised me when I ventured into the world of pears was their light productivity relative to apples. A standard pear tree (grown at about 300 trees per acre) will probably never produce more than 2 bushels of pears in a given year (roughly 90 lbs of fruit). A comparible sized apple tree (say on a MM 111 rootstock) can produce upwards of 8 bushels per tree at maturity. This disparity in productivity probably corresponds pretty closely to the disparity in profitability and monies put into new pear development. I don't know this for a fact. It's simply a hunch. But I wouldn't be surprised if this were the case. Pick up a copy of The Book of Pears. I got a used copy through amazon.com for under $10. It's a great resource and the photography is beautiful, too. John

When I turned five, my folks took me to Barnhill's ice cream parlor in the Akron, OH area for my birthday party. Just me and a couple of buddies. I remember it as if it were yesterday, although doing the math it was 37 years ago. The ice cream was pretty standard issue stuff, but it was my official introduction to the grilled peanut butter and bacon sandwich. What a combo. Soon thereafter, Skippy introduced a short-lived product called Peanut Butter with Smoky Bits. I ate it directly from the jar. But alas, after two years Skippy gave the product up, probably because it didn't appeal to the unrefined palates of most other five year olds. To this day, one of my biggest guilty pleasures is a spoonful of Peter Pan coated with Bacos (when I'm too lazy to crisp up some of the real stuff). Clearly, I didn't know what a Foodie was back then. But in hindsight, this was my indoctrination into the world of good eating. How about you? When did you first know you were a Foodie? And what was the memorable food item that pushed you over the edge?

In Danvers, MA there lives a scraggly old pear tree that's estimated to be nearly 380 years old. It's known as the Endicott Pear, named after John Endicott, the first governor of Massachusetts ( See Endicott Pear). And it still produces fruit. As I begin the process of creating my own heirloom orchard from the ground up, the idea often crosses my mind of who eventually will be eating the fruit from my trees long after I've become wormfood myself. I'd initially thought in terms of decades; now centuries and generations seem quite plausible, at least regarding pears. "Plant a pear for an heir," someone recently advised me. It's heartwarming to think that 100 or 200 years from now a pear cobbler could be made using pears from a tree I grafted in my kitchen on a blustery Winter day in 2005. There are a lot of varieties of heirloom fruit I'm excited to be putting into an orchard. By volume, most of what will be grown are apples--we're attempting 120 varieties--but there will be quite a variety of pears and plums, a couple of peaches and an assortment of uncommon apricots and cherries. There will even be three delightful Welsh perry pears, if they can make their way through USDA Quarantine without a hitch. We'll see what grows out here on the Maine coast. The pears are of particular fascination though. I think part of it is because one rarely encounters a pear selection beyond the standard Bartlett, Anjou, Bosc and occasional Seckel. How can the romanticist in each of us not be seduced by pears with exotic names like Fondante de Moulins-Lille, Bergamotte d’Été, Louise Bonne d'Avranches or Duchesse d'Angoulême, especially when it's described as "melting, extremely juicy, very sweet, slightly acidulous, with a rich aromatic flavor"? My dear Aunt Angela, a devout Catholic and apotheosis of self-restraint, receives a box of Doyenné du Comice pears from me each Christmas. In her words, one of these ripe fruit dribbling down her chin is "about as close as I’ve come to God." Who knew Divine Intervention was to be found in a Harry & David catalog? I recently discovered that there are only seven acres of pears currently being grown in Maine. Just SEVEN. Connecticut devotes nearly 250 acres annually; Oregon, over 19,400. I was curious if the lack of pears up here was because they simply don't adapt well to our Zone 5 coastal Maine weather and growing conditions. So I made a call up the coast to fruit aficionado Mark Fulford (he's trialed as many as 40 varieties on his farm) to get his opinion. His thoughts? Most heirloom pears do quite well up here, but many of the very best are too tender to ship and people in general simply aren't educated enough about the more exotic varieties to have much interest in them. And, as is often the refrain in these parts, if it ain't broke . . . In 2004, not long after I decided to close my eyes and jump into the orchard project, I walked into the island grocery to discover a cache of Seckel pears that had just been added to the otherwise meagre and predictable produce section. I grabbed a dozen of them, having read the Seckel is the definitive sugar pear. On my counter these beautiful hard little gems sat, day after day, until they finally had the slightest give to them. Flavor? Like old snow. It was such a disappointment. They were clearly picked way too young, probably in anticipation of being shipped across the country or beating another grower to market. Maybe the time is ripe for local growers to make these great old pear varieties available to the foodies of New England. Any takers?