Stirring the Cauldron

New Moon Newsletters from Jessica Prentice

New Fruit Moon

August moondark kitchen notes
from Jessica Prentice

The moon is new! And the new moon is a most powerful time to make wishes. Wish now, and your wishes should bear fruit. Let them ripen on the vine before you pick them.

We are entering the moon cycle sometimes called the Fruit Moon in 16th Century England. And while I have always loved fruit as a metaphor, as an image, as an idea -- I must admit that I've been a little bit lukewarm on actual fruit. Perhaps this has something to do with my lack of sweet tooth and my well-developed taste for savory things.

Even as a child, I loved vegetables but was a bit indifferent to fruit.

This changed somewhat during the year I lived in Thailand. The fruit there was new and fascinating and always wonderfully ripe and fresh and close at hand. Meals were most often finished with slices of watermelon, or a bowl or bag of rambutans or mandarins. Small-talk in Thailand often centered on fruit. The names of the various fruits were among the most useful vocabulary I learned. Fruit was offered around a gathering, and no one hesitated to peel and begin breaking off pieces of fruit, or savoring it on the spot in all its juiciness.

I think Americans are a bit more squeamish and skittish about fruit.

Many of us think twice before digging our nails into the peel of an orange, or are put off by the prospect of a plum that will explode in our mouths. We don't want to pick through the pith of a pomegranate to get to the scarlet seeds. Fruit seems to encompass all the messiness, aroma, and unpredictability of nature. America likes its food packaged and contained, not too smelly or drippy, sweet but moderate. This goes some way to explain the fact that the most popular fruit in the U.S. is the banana. It comes in its own wrapping and is almost as convenient as a happy meal. It is also almost as consistent. The variety of bananas imported to the U.S. are sweet but not too sweet, fragrant but not too fragrant. They vary little in length or color, especially compared to the amazing range of varieties of banana you'll encounter in tropical countries. Our imported bananas are the least delicate, most shippable variety. And they are picked green and then gassed in transit to control the ripening process.

Despite all this, I like bananas. My commitment to eating local, seasonal foods has not eliminated the banana from my diet. It's a quick and satisfying breakfast or snack, and still infinitely preferable -- in terms of taste, nutrition, ecology and economy -- to the 'breakfast bars' and 'sports bars' that glare at us from every aisle. I can't stand those things.

But there is certainly no lack of wonderful local fruits, and working at a farmers market has forever changed my relationship to fruit. I think part of why I didn't much care for fruit growing up (and proponents of "five-a-day" nutrition programs for kids might take note) was that the fruit we bought at our local grocery store was pretty awful. Occasionally it tasted alright, but more often than not, apples were mealy and oranges were dried out. Peaches were crunchy, strawberries were flavorless.

Not so at the farmers market. While not every piece of farmers market fruit is perfect, much of it is truly wonderful -- fresh and tree-ripened and full of a huge range of flavor. Apples are crisp and oranges are full of sweet juice. Peaches are peachy and strawberries have that true flavor that laboratories find impossible -- however hard they try -- to mimic. Berries are sweet or tart according to their natures, and melons are complex and aromatic. Enough to make a fruit-lover out of even the most indifferent salt-head.

But other forces have conspired to make me appreciate fruit as well. My partner is a life-long fan of fruit, and a little fruit on hand at home goes a long way towards domestic harmony. For years I all but ignored the beautiful fruit at the farmers market, too distracted by the charms of leeks and greens, corn and cabbages. I began to force myself to really attend to the fruit in the stalls when I saw at home how happy a person could be over a couple of plums or oranges. I also took note of the fact that very few of them ended in the compost bin, having been eaten with joy and gusto as soon as ripe. Having fresh, ripe fruit around the house meant that often a slice of apple was waved in front of me, calling for attention, or an orange was magically peeled and juicy sections were offered on a helpful napkin. And so I ate. And it was good.

Another force in the conspiracy to get me to like fruit was the acupuncturist who informed me that I had a 'dry' constitution and I should eat more fruit. I'd always thought of fruit as a kind of natural sugar -- not really bad for me but not especially good for me either. Then I began to wonder if my constitution wasn't 'dry' because I was fruit deprived. Apparently, I should eat fruit in support of my holistic health. Those apple slices took on a whole new glow.

And then there was feng shui. I had begun (without any deep commitment to the project) to keep a fruit bowl on the table, stocked with a sampling of whatever was wonderful at the farmers market. I liked the way it looked and felt, and it meant that a snack or sweet was close at hand. (It also meant that some things molded in the bowl, or, worse, in a basket I had used for the same purpose). Then I bought a house, and was possessed with a predictable and typical West-coast fascination with feng shui -- the ancient Chinese practice of harmonious energy in the home. Color, furniture, decorations, placement -- all were seen through the feng shui lens, and we've done the best we could to make the energy of our new home harmonious and beneficial. Well, as it turns out, feng shui has something to say about fruit bowls: they should be kept on the dining room table full of fresh fruit, symbolizing prosperity and continuous sustenance for your family. (Big bouquets of flowers, on the other hand, are taboo on the dining table -- they make it hard for family members to see each other and so create energetic blockages). Fruit in the fruit bowl still molds occasionally and ends up as compost, but it's a small price to pay for wealth, health, and happiness.

So now, keeping fresh fruit in the house was not only good for my constitution and my marriage, but it was good for the feng shui of my home. It was now not only delicious and nutritious, it was imbued with positive symbolism. And if you haven't noticed by now -- it's the symbolic level that gets me every time.

So 2003 was the year that I truly discovered fruit. A sub-discovery was that of the Asian pear. Unknown to me as a child, ignored by me as a chef, as a home-owner and fruit-bowl-filler, Asian pears sustained me through the winter. They are really delicious -- mildly sweet and nuanced in flavor, fabulously crispy and juicy. They indulge my savory tooth as well, because they pair wonderfully with an aged, raw-milk cheddar.

We have just begun the Fruit Moon, and indeed our markets here in the Bay Area are bursting with local, organic fruit. Summer's harvest of peaches and plums, nectarines and pluots, strawberries and blackberries are joined by the very first of autumn's apples and Asian pears. It is a fruit-lover's dream. And the rest of us? If we go to the markets and buy fruit anyway, take it home and take a moment to slice it up and eat it, it might just make fruit-lovers of us all.

Wishing you a very fruitful Moon. I hope to see you all at the market. A recipe follows.

I Dream of Peaches and Cream

• 2 very ripe, sweet and juicy tree-ripened peaches, peeled and cut into big chunks (pit removed!)
• 3/4 cup raw heavy cream, crème fraiche, or yogurt
• a big teaspoonful of raw, local honey (orange blossom honey would be fabulous)
• 1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 1/2 teaspoon orange blossom water (found in specialty stores, middle eastern groceries, and some large supermarkets), or to taste
• a few ice cubes if you like cold drinks, or if it's a hot summer night

Blend all ingredients together using a blender or immersion blender, until smooth. Taste and adjust sweetness if necessary (add more honey if not sweet enough, more dairy if too sweet). Pour into a special glass like a wine glass. Drink as slowly as you can, savoring every bit. Serves 2, or 1 or 3, depending on the people and the peaches.