The Endive Chronicles

As I mentioned in last weeks post, we made a trip out to Lucy’s Whey on a chevre hunting trip. What I did not mention was that I came away with much more than the Hoja Santo chevre for my tart. I also brought home blue cheese from Georgia’s Sweet Grass Dairy, Fiscalini cheddar and a little packet of plump, moist dried strawberries. I have a love of dried fruit and as we drove away my first instinct was to tear into the packet like a wolverine. Instead I decided to exercise a little restraint and create a special recipe in which to enjoy them.

I went through a number of ideas as I pondered what to do with my plump, sweet little treasures. My first instinct was to create a scone recipe, but Ina Garten already did that. Then I thought I’d go all cheffy on you with a platter of dried strawberries artfully arranged with swirls of balsamic syrup and clouds of rosemary cream. Sure it would have been pretty, but it’s been done to death. In the end I decided to create a recipe that would help integrate these little jewels into everyday cuisine and so, this weeks recipe was born.

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If I had to describe my week using a color it would be beige. Between fighting off a cold, my impending move to a place yet to be revealed and a debacle with fig pate, this week has left me decidedly non-plussed. So, how do I shake off this beige colored week? Why, by baking a brightly colored tart of course.

The first step in salvaging this week was to hop in the car and head to Lucy’s Whey for a really special chevre to use in the tart. Catherine and Lucy* helped me to choose the right one for my tart and in the end we settled on a Hoja Santo wrapped chevre that worked beautifully with the citrus and basil notes in the tart. Those ladies really know their cheese.

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Calvin was a sixth grader with a Mickey Mouse voice, hair 12 inches high (good for hiding pencils), a penchant for brightly colored pants and unrequited love for yours truly. Shortly before Valentines Day 1990, Calvin called to ask if I would be his girlfriend. I thanked him, but politely refused. When Valentines Day rolled around, it found Calvin sobbing his eyes out at the boy’s lunch table. My classmates spent the remaining part of the day aggressively trying to convince me to give this lovable nerd a chance. They were unsuccessful and I, the villain was left to walk home in tears.

That day seventeen years ago, I swore off Valentines Day for good, although my wishes were frequently ignored. When I was 15 my boyfriend gave me a giant balloon filled with glitter, strange candy, a bear and potpourri; resulting in one of the more embarrassing days I have ever had. At 18 there was cheap candy and sad flowers. Then at 21 there was annoyance coupled with exasperation over wishes ignored and tacky seasonal trappings received.

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