I don’ t know if you have noticed but it seems cheese plates are taking their place on menus everywhere. They show up in the starting line and at the finish—whether you are tasting a flight of wines or wrapping up a splendid meal.

So once in awhile, we embrace the fad, and order ourselves a humble little plate of cheese. Often part of the fun is selecting a few cheeses from a list: a cheese plate of 1, 3 or 5 distinct cheeses. And then a little plate of cheeses arrive, sometimes with a sprig of thyme and quite often with some jellies, reduction sauces, a few olives or carefully placed almonds.

We recently ordered a plate of 3 cheeses, to liven up the notes of our respective glasses of vino. Our little plate of came with miniature wedges of cheeses, a few walnuts and a small ramekin of honey mustard dipping sauce.

We seem to rank them, when we have cheeses plated side by side. Of course, I never actually write down the name of the cheese, so that ‘one we liked the best’ remains nameless. But I will say this: it was a firm goat cheese (from… I think Spain), mild in flavor and lolled easily across our palates when paired with this ‘honey mustard sauce’.

Of course the following week I produced a similar appetizer in our home (with, I might add, a much larger wedge of cheese), complete with dipping sauce.

Honey & Cheese:

Buy: wedge of cheese, or two or three. I don’t find this sauce ideal for triple creams or sweet brie. Try matching this sweet and tangy condiment with a mild, semi-hard cheese. Or pick a few and find your own favorite.

3 T honey (I used clover, but lavender or blackberry honey might be interesting…)
1 tsp dijon mustard (I used one sans seeds)
big grinds of black pepper to top

Stir honey and dijon, grind pepper, serve.

Carrot chips? And how. I could have a pile of these, call it a meal, and be the better for it.

They aren’t bad for you, like many chips. They are not deep fried; no preservatives or other unmentionables are added. All that will rest on your palate is thinly-sliced, roasted carrots. All you need is a glugg of olive oil, a hearty pinch of coarse salt and carrots.

I am a big fan of trying new vegetables, or new shapes or new products. My family snacks on a lot of baby carrots; in the store recently I saw a bag of sliced carrots. They looked like ruffled chips. As I often do, I figured: different shapes, more interest. Why not? (if you don’t have waffle sliced carrots, just buy regular carrots, slice them 1/4 inch thick, at a slight diagonal. A mandoline might work if you can maintain slices between 1/4 - 1/8 inch).

Dinner appeared (as it often does: out of no where, and an hour too soon) and I tossed them on a cookie sheet with a sprinkle of oil and coarse salt. And tossed them so each carrot had a smear of oil; they are awesome. WAY better than fries or chips. Don’t believe me? Try them.

It just gets better: the other day at the grocer, I saw tri-colored carrots. Have you seen them? You can buy orange, white or purple carrots. I will be buying those next—this humble little side dish just became hip.

Carrot Chips
1 LB carrots, 1/4 inch slices on the diagonal
3 T olive oil (or so)
1-2 large pinches coarse salt

Toss carrots with oil, in bowl or with hands. Spread in single layer on cookie sheet. Sprinkle with salt. Roast in 400 degree oven for 25-30 minutes. (Sometimes I pump it up to 425).

The truth is, you shouldn’t make these.

They aren’t good for you. In fact, not only are they not good for you, they are bad for you.

But if you are at a coffee shop and order the cherry studded scone or the nanaimo bar or that big slice of white chocolate and strawberry cream cake—then you know what you are getting yourself into. It is an indulgence: something you might enjoy once in awhile but would never include in your daily routine.

The coffee shop where I often spend my office hours has been carrying heavy, sugar and butter laden pastries for some time. But recently, I have noticed a trend in their pastry case. It is the presence of the oldies—the classic cookies and bars my mom used to make when I was a kid—the bars we piled high at our school bake sales. Really, I think the coffee shop means to impress us with what we have come to expect: sinfully delicious treats that sit by our coffee and beg to pamper our taste buds. Perhaps they are grabbing recipes from the way-back archives, hoping we will be impressed with these new hip treats. Like all great fads, it is the old that is new again; but beware, healthy eating has nothing to do with it (I think that about covers the disclaimer, don’t you?).

… and this bar is no exception. I shudder to think it has corn syrup in it. I need to figure out how to make these old fashioned bars (ones I would scarf down in high school, before heading off to practice) without the corn syrup. Suffice it to say, if you were raised back when I was raised and you ate Special K Bars (named after its ONLY redeeming ingredient), then this recipe is authentic. I shall make a variation at some point, and upgrade it for today’s health considerations.

These bars are one of very few foods I cannot say no to. If I make them, I will—as I did in the good ole days—stand by my counter and keep cutting out ‘just one more small square.’ That is why I don’t make them; I leave it to the coffee shops to provide me with too-expensive, small squares of [limited] indulgences. Much easier to pace yourself that way.

Special K Bars
1 cup white sugar
1 cup white corn syrup
1 1/2 cups smooth peanut butter
6 cups Special K cereal
1 pkg butterscotch chips
1 pkg semi sweet chocolate chips

Bring sugar and syrup to boil, remove from heat and cool slightly. Add peanute butter and stir to blend. Place cereal in bowl; pour peanut butter mix over cereal and stir to blend. Press into 9×13 pan. Melt chips together and spread over bars (I sometimes put it in the fridge to help the chocolate harden, but it isn’t necessary). Remember: I warned you. Tread lightly.

It has taken me a few weeks time to muster up the courage to write about this very book. For no other reason than the fact that it is my blog’s namesake. It is like commenting on fashion after reading the annals of Vogue, or sharing your thoughts on politics to the nearest, listening governor. Even better, it is being a backseat driver (we are talking caboose) or being a sideline parent yelling recommendations to the referee, from his/her ideally angled position.

This book is called the Heirloom Tomato. Author Amy Goldman wrote two similar books on melons and squash; both of which were front and center in Martha Stewart magazine. She is guru to tomato, and this book includes no less than a scientific, historic and neighborly description of 250 tomato varieties. The photos are museum quality, mountable to my every wall (oooh, I like that idea: tomato pictures on my every wall). The photos by Victor Schrager reflect his talent and serve justice to all tomatoes involved.

Can I even be unbiased? If I were to pick a coffee table book out of 200 of the most impressive, I would be magnetized to this one, and all of its tomato love. My biases aside, author Amy Goldman can be credited with giving tomatoes their due. She champions them, preserves their seeds, documents and scientifically defines them. Over half the pages in the book archive countless varieties—each with a cover-worthy photo. But then she does not leave us hanging: she touches on the importance of biodiversity, shares her gardening methods and provides a mound of recipes to round out this tribute to tomatoes.

I named my blog as an example of a food that I found intriguing and versatile. But cooking and growing tomatoes myself, and seeing—and reading about—the dedication of someone like Amy Goldman, makes me fall in love with my blog’s namesake all the more.

It cheers me to have this book displayed in my home. It cheers me to know I have cherry tomatoes outside, basking in the sun. It makes my heart swell with happiness to think of the jars of roasted tomatoes I have in the refrigerator and the frozen, homemade tomato sauce I have stored in the freezer. Tomatoes add much to my life: and it satisfies my soul to know someone cares enough to carefully cull seeds from massive amounts of tomatoes, to save them from oblivion. Tomato seeds are being saved in a vault; tomatoes are here to stay.

I cannot wait to make her recipe for creamy tomato soup, baked black cod with tomato butter, tomato chips and the Thai tomato cocktail. And you will know when I do, because I will be talking of tomatoes—literally.

A few highlights from The Heirloom Tomato:

• You will appreciate the importance of crop diversity, and will wish you could taste beyond the grocery store variety. You may decide to frequent more Farmer Markets, or order your own tomato seeds.
• This book is fitting for agricultural historians, casual and master gardeners, cooks and coffee table owners.
• Tomatoes are documented by: size and weight, shape, color, soluble solids (Brix ratings to determine sweetness), flavor, texture and best uses, plant habit and leaf type, yield, maturity, origin, synonyms, and seed sourcing.
• Vegetable MD Online was regularly offered by Goldman, as a resource for gardeners.
• Seed Savers Exchange (www.seedsavers.org) is a brilliant resource for ordering your own heirloom seeds.
• You will learn how to grow—and save—pure tomato varietals; Goldman provides step by step instructions for seed processing.
• Tomatoes in all their historical glory, offer over 5000 cultivated varieties; Amy trialed more than a thousand, many of them twice to validate her results.  In this book you will find 250 gems.
• A cool place to buy cookbooks, including this one: ecookbooks.
• Click here for a list of articles about Amy Goldman.
• Click here for the Martha Stewart article on The Heirloom Tomato.

You know I love talking about tomatoes—and I could go on and on—but I seriously need to go outside and water my own humble tomatoes.

I loved this company even before I tried their pistachios. And not just because they sent me a box full of goodies—though that didn’t hurt.

I love them because of their branding. So few foodstuffs impress me when it comes to creative marketing, but this company is dedicated to giving pistachios their [fun] day in the sun. Remember Cracker Jacks? When I was a kid, it was all about the sailor icon and the cute little message inside. Or the baseball cards with their flat stick of gum, so you could enthusiastically chew gum while sifting through new cards.

Or Kool-Aid, remember that big pitcher of Kool-Aid that was always bashing through walls and creating a trail of thirst-quenching fun? I still am not sure whether it was about quenching thirst or party-crashing, but it certainly involved a big smile and an even bigger entry. Today I think of Jones Soda as having clever marketing, with the excerpts they include on their bottles. No doubt there are more food companies that actually aim to make you smile or laugh out loud or chew gum with gusto. But today’s winner is the Everybody’s Nuts! company.

They have a mascot named ‘Stach‘ and clever little comics enclosed in the boxes of pistachios. Their website includes ‘make your own Stach comic’, Stach games and a fan club. You should check it out: www.EverybodysNuts.com.

I love companies that go out of their way to impress people. I could shake their hand; but they would probably rather I eat their pistachios. And that really is the point: for me to taste-test their pistachios and give you my two cents. And, if you know me, you know that means including the palates of my family. My Junior High boys and all their lofty opinions. So here goes:

Roasted No Salt Pistachios: these are the chocolate chip cookie variety. Have you ever heard that phrase? They are good. They are plain. They appeal to most. Once you start adding things to the chocolate chip cookies—think raisins, oatmeal, pecans—then not as many people prefer them. But a smaller group of people will like it that much more. Which is why you make more flavors to be favorites of smaller groups. Since I am one of those who prefer the chocolate chip cookie PLUS, I also like nuts PLUS, and won’t be bothered to buy these plain pistachios again. Especially since I have these other flavors to choose from. Survey says: good but not terribly interesting.

Roasted With Salt Pistachios: The salt takes it up a notch, for those of us who like salt. Good—especially for those who don’t like the extras—but to us, not terribly interesting.

Salt and Pepper Pistachios: Wonderful, and will buy again. For three reasons: 1. our family loves Salt & Pepper Kettle chips, and well, this offers the same dynamic flavor with a lot more health (nuts or chips, nuts or chips… Nuts!). 2. Yesterday I discovered they sell big bags of them at Costco, and 3. they are perfect for school lunches.

European Pistachios (think picture of nuts with berets): YES, a resounding yes. My boys loved these, as did we—the parents. These little ’stachios include salt and malt vinegar. Those are popular touches to french fries in parts of Europe. But, far healthier to use them on nuts (fries or nuts, fries or nuts.. Nuts!). And they are good for you in that ‘quick open another one and shove it into my mouth’ kind of way. We will buy these again.

More fun information on pistachios:

• I really liked this site (clean and well-organized, full of good info): Pistachio Health
  
• Here is a list of articles that discuss the heart and health benefits of pistachios
• Recycle the shells to replace missing game pieces, grind up as mulch and/or put in the bottom of flower pots for drainage.