Summer Pasta Recipe: Sun Dried Tomato & Artichoke Pesto, Cherry Tomatoes, and Fresh Basil with Linguine or Farfalle

Cooking with Less Fuss, More Flavor

Enjoying more fast farm food from the kitchen garden

Tomatoes and basil on the third day of fall? You bet. The calendar may say summer is over, but the kitchen garden keeps to its own schedule, and mine says that tomato season is finally (finally!) in nearly full swing. The beautiful green and purple basil I've been picking since the end of June is still going gangbusters, too.

There's no better—or simpler—way to celebrate your garden fresh tomatoes and basil than to toss them with hot pasta, but adding this quick sun-dried tomato and artichoke pesto to the mix brings the dish to a whole other level.

I've made this with larger tomatoes chopped into chunks, but cherry tomatoes really work best. A mixture of red and yellow looks especially nice. I like to make this with fettuccine or farfalle (because bowties are always so much fun), but other pasta shapes would probably be good, too.

Tuesday Farm Photo: Farm Fresh Eggs, They're What's for Breakfast

Yep, these yolks are really orange.

If you've never tasted eggs that were laid by lucky chickens allowed to flap and scratch and eat real food, I urge you to you go out and find some as fast as you possibly can—even if they cost $6 a dozen (which is only 50 cents an egg). They're worth it, and you won't believe how wonderful they are. The shells go way past white, too—think deep dark browns, pale blue greens, creamy tans. Gorgeous!

Can't justify the extra expense? Compare it to eating out—or what you'd pay for one coffee drink at Starbucks. And think of the happy hens and hardworking farmers you'd be supporting. Want to get to meet our fine feathered flock? You'll find lots of chick pics here.

Look for farm eggs at your farmers' market or locally owned natural foods store, which is where I used to sell my excess eggs when I had 25 laying hens, and where I now buy eggs to supplement the meager output from our current little (and mostly very aged) flock. You can also search on Local Harvest for everything from eggs to elephant garlic.

Wanna go one foodie step further? Serve your extra special eggs on toasted homemade bread, such as my popular Farmhouse White. So how do you like your eggs?

What else do we eat for breakfast?
Blueberry Breakfast Bars
Apple Blueberry Crumb Bars
Spicy Pumpkin Pecan Raisin Muffins
100% Whole Grain No Sugar Bran Muffins
Ginger Pear Bran Muffins
Cranberry Christmas Scones
Savory Feta Cheese and Scallion Scones
White Whole Wheat Scones with Currants & Oats
Oatmeal Toasting Bread
Italian Rosemary Raisin Bread (with cheddar & apricot jam)
Sometimes Lettuce Salad
And Sometimes Chocolate Cake!

© FarmgirlFare.com, the cluck happy foodie farm blog where fresh raw eggs for breakfast are the secret to our dogs' healthy bodies and shiny coats (Bear has never had a bath in his life)—and one of us eats our fried eggs on toast with strawberry jam.

On Loving Lettuce & Eating Salad for Breakfast

I Never Get Tired Of Looking At Lettuce

Over the years I’ve come to the conclusion that I do not think about salad the same way normal people do. The first step toward this realization occurred one Thanksgiving dinner when I was passed a beautiful wooden salad bowl. Peering inside, I saw a mouthwatering mix of butterhead lettuce, red onion, and avocado tossed with a creamy dressing. There was just one helping left, and as I was about to place it on my plate, I glanced around the table and noticed that only one other person had any salad. The contents of that bowl were supposed to feed seven more people!

Then there was the phone conversation I once had with a long-distance gardening friend. He had called to announce that he and his wife had made an interesting discovery about growing lettuce.

"If you just pull off some of the leaves instead of plucking the entire plant from the ground, the leaves will keep growing back. The way we figure it," he said brightly, "you only need three lettuce plants to feed two people for the entire summer."

I decided not to mention the three heads of lettuce I'd consumed earlier that day for lunch—or the 200 square feet of salad greens in my organic heirloom garden.

A few weeks ago I was harvesting a pile of mesclun to send home with a gardenless friend. "That’s plenty!" she said as I continued to pick.

"That," I politely informed her, "is barely enough for one serving."

And when I set a bowl of salad in front of a houseguest recently, he looked down at it, looked up at me, and said, "Please tell me this is for all of us."

"You don’t have to finish it," I reassured him. But I probably will.

So I’m a little obsessed with salads, which I eat nearly every day of the year. And while pretty much anything green, leafy, and not poisonous is fair game for my salad bowl, lettuce holds a special place in my heart.

For there are certain times when absolutely nothing, not even chocolate, will satisfy my soul and stomach except some freshly picked butter lettuce from the garden. Even if it’s 1:30 in the morning. And we’re in the middle of a thunder/lightning/wind/hail/rainstorm. And my terrified, 50-pound, thunder-phobic dog is trying desperately to climb into my arms as I crouch down harvesting lettuce in the wet darkness with a 98% dead flashlight. But oh, how that salad hit the spot.


European Mesclun Mix From Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds

The lettuce season this year was surprisingly bountiful. Lettuce is an iffy thing to plant for spring in southern Missouri. We usually have at least a few days in the 90s in April--which in itself can be enough to ruin your crop--and it's always a toss up as to whether May will behave itself and stay mild or jump headfirst into summer. This year it behaved, and I harvested gorgeous lettuce every day for weeks.

On June 8th, with temperatures threatening to soar upwards, I grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped what was left in the two 4' x 8' raised beds I'd direct seeded at the end of March, leaving the base of the plants in the ground. It amounted to several pounds. Because I make it a point to plant varieties that are heat tolerant and slow to bolt, despite quite a few days in the upper 80s I was still picking unbitter bounty on June 19th (while crossing my fingers the stuff in the fridge wouldn't rot). Today I enjoyed the last of the spring lettuce. July 1st--I think that may be a record.

My salads will now be lettuceless for the next several months, but if you live in a place where summers are mild (oh, how I envy you!), it's not too late to plant, and growing your own lettuce from seed is easier than you might think. Click here to visit my kitchen garden and learn how.


Fast Farm Food

With such an abundance of wonderful lettuce hanging around, it was only a matter of time before I figured out a way to eat it for breakfast. For the first time in months, I was out of my beloved blueberry bran muffins, and morning found me flailing around the kitchen, half starved, my mind a blank. I'm the kind of girl who needs to know what she's going to have for breakfast when her head hits the pillow the night before.

Incapable of doing anything else, I turned my mind toward thoughts of lunch. Before long I'd convinced myself that freshly laid fried eggs on a bed of lettuce wasn't really all that different from the scrambled eggs with chopped Swiss chard I sometimes whip up. Thinly sliced pieces of homegrown lamb salami crisped up nicely in place of pancetta or proscuitto or bacon and left me a little grease to fry the eggs in. A few chopped scallions, a drizzle of creamy dressing (yes, even foodie farmgirls sometimes buy bottled salad dressing--organic of course), and some freshly grated pecorino romano finished things off.

It wasn't until everything was arranged on my plate that I realized I'd just spent about five minutes making a meal that had not only come mostly from the farm, but was healthy and beautiful as well. I snapped a photo and dove in. I guess I need to run out of bran muffins more often.

© 2007 FarmgirlFare.com, the award-winning blog where Farmgirl Susan shares photos & stories of her crazy country life on 240 remote Missouri acres.