The Mulberry Tree

My grandfather, born in a mountaintop village in modern day Turkey, planted fruit trees in his Delaware home. He planted peach trees, pear trees, apple and mulberry trees to ease his homesickness for the dripping nectars of his youth. When I was much younger, I’d always beg my mother for stories of her childhood. She’d tell me about her school plays, her tennis matches, the time she dug up a colony of slugs, but she never retold any of these stories more often than she retold the mulberry tree story.

Every June, the mulberry tree in the backyard of 403 Crest Road, Wilmington, Delaware, would drip with bleeding, deep purple ornaments of fruit. The mulberries attracted flocks of birds, who’d happily peck away amidst the branches of the tree, singing many pitched songs: the offbeat symphony of the mulberry tree. My mother liked to climb the branches and join in. The mulberry tree was the only tree in the garden with its own personal love song. My mom loved how the mulberries dropped to the earth’s surface and created a carpet of vibrant, sticky syrup. She loved the tree so much that she decided to preserve the mulberry syrup. With the help of her friends, she collected, crushed and jarred the fruit. Like her ancestors in the ancient mountains of Armenia, she was making kini, wine. She stored her mason jars away in a dark corner of the kitchen cupboard. Two months later, she opened the jars only to find a moldy mass collected on the top of her “wine.” As disheartening as this was, she never stopped loving her tree. The fruit never disappointed. Never mealy, always sweet and slightly crunchy, mulberries were the best treat of the summer. This all changed, however, one summer day, when my grandfather announced to my mother that termites had infested the tree. It needed to be cut down. My mother was stricken. Termites? How could this be? The tree seemed perfectly healthy! She silently said goodbye.

Years later, my grandfather told her that there were never termites in the tree; he cut it down because of the mess it made. My mother was angry. The “mess” was part of the mulberry’s charm, its own celebration of existence. She never understood why my grandfather would cut down a tree that he loved in his childhood.

When I was five years old my parents and I moved to a new house. In the backyard were two mulberry trees. However, the branches were barely reachable. Sometimes if we strained and stretched our bodies, we could grasp the sweet fruit, but that wasn’t very often. The stained ground below was simply a reminder of the delicious gems that we were denied by our own shortcomings in the height department. However, I do remember clipping off the leaves and bringing them to my friend every day one spring when I was about nine years old. She kept silk worms as pets, and silk worms being the picky eaters they are, only eat mulberry leaves.

A couple of weeks ago, my mom and I went on a bike ride along the river. About thirty minutes into the ride my mom, who was ahead of me, pointed towards a tree on her left and pulled over. I hopped off my bike and went to see why she was pointing to a tree. She handed me a pump, purple berry. No explanation necessary. We proceeded to stuff our faces with mulberries. It turned out that next to the tree, were two more mulberry trees. One tree bore the common purple fruit, while one bore pink fruit and the other white.

Mulberry season has just ended here in Massachusetts, but if you are lucky enough to find a tree bearing fruit in your neck of the woods, please indulge in this often overlooked summer delicacy!

Recipe:

Mulberry Juice

I don’t have exact measurements for this one, as I’ve actually never tried making it, but I thought I’d include it just the same because it sounds like an interesting experiment. Apparently my great grandmother would gather the mulberries in Delaware and make this beverage for the whole family.

-Boil a heap of mulberries and some sugar
-Cook the fruit down until it becomes a sticky sap
-Strain the syrup through mesh or cheesecloth
- Pour a bit of syrup into a glass, add water and ice

Enjoy!

Rum Balls Revisited

After my family's wild and crazy vegan festivities of the New Year's Eve, our fridge was stocked with all sorts of vegan leftovers. Everything was quickly eaten; everything except for five or six squares of rather dry vegan brownies. For some reason my friends and I had decided to bake a low-fat version of vegan brownies, with only applesauce as the binding ingredient. Unfortunately, the brownies were dry and uneventful- the one leftover that my family refrained from.

A few days passed by and the applesauce brownies continued to dry out. I decided to experiment and make rum balls out of them. However, I didn't have chocolate chips or cream to melt together and add to the brownie crumbs. Instead, I omitted the melted chocolate, threw in a couple of hefty tablespoons of cocoa powder, generous splashes of rum and a spoon or two of jam. Although it tasted great, the batter was far too wet to be shaped into balls. I threw in some chopped walnuts, but they didn't help much. I then realized we had a handful of Italian butter cookies and almond macaroons leftover from the holidays. I crumbled the macaroons and butter cookies and threw them into the bowl. The mixture became dry enough to handle and the results were delicious!

The rum balls had a decidedly almond flavor and a slight crunch. I even rolled them in pistachios because I ran out of walnuts. The bright green of the pistachios against the deep color of the chocolate added a festive touch to a revisited favorite.

Experiment with your rum balls and see what you come up with. You really can't go wrong.

New Year's Eve Rice Pudding

A little over a week ago, my parents and I were discussing the pros and cons of new year's resolutions. We realized that we could barely remember our resolutions from past years. Our resolve was never as exemplary as the resolutions themselves.

As a result of this conversation, my parents decided to stir up their usual New Year's routine. Instead of an evening of over indulgence and declarations to sleep more, exercise more, eat less (etc.), they decided that their last celebration of 2009 was to atone for their excesses of the decade. They hosted a vegan potluck. We spent December 31st cooking up a vegan storm: Roasted asparagus and roma tomatoes with toasted bread crumbs, pine nuts and garlic. We nestled a sautee of paprika-bathed cabbage, portabella mushrooms and walnuts in flaky filo dough (brushed with oil). For dessert, we made dense, fudgey vegan brownies glazed with raspberry preserves and rice pudding made with almond and coconut milk.

The days leading up to the party we received countless phone calls from our guests. They wanted to add eggs, cheese and butter. "Does it really have to be strictly vegan?" they asked. We were adamant. No eggs! No cheese! And certainly NO butter!

Although we had to survive lots of grumbling and complaints, our friends brought very creative and flavorful dishes. Our dining room table became an array of homemade bread, japanese pickles, coconut rice, cashew curry, linguine with garlic and olive oil, chickpeas and eggplant...(the list keeps on going)

All the food was delicious, but the dish that I grabbed from the refrigerator the next morning was the rice pudding. I have a special place in my heart for rice pudding. My grandmother would make it for me every time I went to her house for dinner. Her rice pudding was made with whole milk, a dash of cream and a sprinkling of rose water. Being the butter embracing Armenian grandmother that she is, she'd probably disapprove of this vegan version of my favorite dessert, but hey, there are times for heavy cream and there are times for almond milk.


Rice Pudding

1 cup short grain rice (I use arborio)
1 cup coconut milk (light works well)
3 cups almond milk
dash of salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract (or a dash of rose water)
1/2-3/4 cup sugar or maple syrup
ground cinnamon for sprinkling on finished rice pudding
chopped pistachios for garnish

Bring 2 cups of almond milk and one cup of coconut milk to boil with rice and salt. Once boiling, lower the heat of the stove. Rice should simmer for 30 minutes or so. Stir constantly! Add remaining almond milk or coconut milk throughout the process, as the rice will absorb the milk. If an additional cup of milk is not enough, feel free to add more. When the rice is tender, and you have your desired consistency (anywhere from soupy to firm), stir in your flavoring and sweetener. Taste the pudding and adjust sugar or extract to your personal preference. Pour into a bowl and chill till ready to serve. I like rice pudding best after it has been refrigerated, but it is also delicious at room temperature.

Remember to decorate your pudding with the ground cinnamon and pistachios!

Rum Ball Ruminations

My father has always been a rum ball enthusiast. When I was younger we would make biweekly pilgrimages to the Blacksmith House, the only bakery (at least to our knowledge) that made rum balls within a one hundred mile radius. I loved eating those dainty, moist treats sitting next to my father on our special park bench. Our tradition, however, only lasted a few years. By the time I reached third grade, the Blacksmith House had closed.

My father loved the rum balls from the Blacksmith House, but for him, nothing could compare to the rum balls that we ate in Quebec City. I don't remember the name or location of the bakery in Quebec City, but I do have fond recollections of their dense, chocolaty confections. Unlike our own local bakery, this particular bakery made very large rum balls, the size of my five year old fists. The pastries only contained a hint of rum and chunks of toasted walnuts. To this day my father will declare the Quebecois rum ball to be the most delicious in their category.

However, it has been many years since our family has made a journey to Quebec and my father has gone rum ball-less for many years. We've tried a few recipes, but we could never get the texture quite right (we realized that the bakeries used chocolate cake as a base, not cookie crumbs or wafers).

This Christmas, I decided to give my father the gift of rum balls. I looked far and wide for a recipe, and ended up creating my own. He claims that they were just as he remembers.

The measurements aren't exact here, so feel free to play around till you get the consistency and flavoring that you like.

Rum Balls

1 9x12 inch chocolate sheet cake (or the equivalent)

1/2 - 3/4 cup dark rum

2/3 cup liquid from a jar of apricot preserves

1/2 cup heavy cream

1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips

1/2 cup roughly chopped walnuts(optional)

chocolate sprinkles or chopped walnuts (for rolling the rum balls)

First, break the cake with your hands until it becomes a mountain of crumbs. Meanwhile, heat the cream in a sauce pan until it is just about to reach its boiling point. Add the rum and preserve liquid to the cake crumbs. Taste the mixture and add more rum or preserve liquid according to your taste. When the cream is warm, pour it over the chocolate chips and stir till the chocolate is melted. Add the chocolate mixture a little bit at a time to your cake crumbs (I barely used 1/4 of it, but if you are a chocolate fan, feel free to add more). If you are adding walnuts, do so at this point.

After the chocolate addition, the crumbs should be completely moistened, with a somewhat gooey texture. Taste the goo and adjust the flavors accordingly. Grab a a small handful of the mixture (it really depends on how large you want your rum balls to be) and roll it into a ball. Then roll the ball in the sprinkles or chopped walnuts. Place finished rum balls on a plate and refrigerate until ready to serve.

May your new year be as sensational as these rum balls!