Preserving our Roots

Carrots and beets, that is! Every home garden should have a row of fall carrots—that most reliable of keeping vegetables -- and one of beets for winter eating. If you don’t have a garden, most market farmers have extra root vegetables at the end of the season, and would be happy to supply you with them.

This year my row of fall carrots got a late start, so I have ordered extra from a friend. Next week I will put her large, sweet storage carrots and beets –unwashed, but with tops cut just above the root and clods of dirt brushed off—into damp wood shavings in lidded plastic tubs in my unheated cellar. Then, through the long winter, a ready supply of locally-grown, fresh vegetables is only a few steps away—at the bottom of my cellar stairs.

Carrots and beets like cold, damp storage, such as an unheated cellar. Onions, garlic, and squash want cool, dry storage—the closet of a spare bedroom on the north side of the house, or an attic, or cool entryway off the kitchen. When you start thinking about it, its not hard to come up with places where you can squirrel away winter vegetables, and you’ll be glad you did. They taste so much better than anything you can buy in the supermarket, come January.

Before canning and refrigeration, the most common method of vegetable and fruit preservation was cold storage of food in its natural state. When the first English settlers arrived in New England almost 400 years ago, they were unprepared for the harshness of our winters. The houses they built resembled those they had known in English villages—but with a difference: in the New World they needed cellars to preserve the harvest which was essential to their survival. Many of our older houses have stone-walled cellars, whose purpose originally was not to house furnaces and hot water tanks, but to store food during the winter. Now most basements are too warm for keeping food. But all is not lost if you don’t have an unheated cellar. A corner furthest from the furnace can be partitioned off to achieve the desired coldness (32 – 40 degrees). A basement window well with the light blocked can be used for mini cold storage, as can the steps of a bulkhead door. A handy piece of equipment to have is a wireless thermometer. I tuck one down cellar near the vegetables, and monitor it from the kitchen.

The beauty of storing root vegetables in damp shavings in tubs with lids is that high humidity is maintained (without having to humidify a large space) and rodents are kept out. Experts recommend that a change of air is necessary to keep the vegetables fresh, but I have found that opening the bins several times a week in the normal course of collecting food seems to do well enough. Moisten the shavings evenly before layering with the roots. The vegetables may touch but not crowd each other. Put a good layer of wood shavings between each layer of vegetable. Cardboard boxes work well, too. The wood shavings tend to dry out faster in cardboard than plastic, and will need to be refreshed with water every month or so. I have not experimented with them, but clean sand or sawdust can be substituted for wood shavings. Parsnips, turnips and kohlrabi can also be stored this way.

This year we ate our last stored carrot July 1—eight months after we put it away. It was still sweet and amazingly crisp—and it had never been refrigerated. To my mind, that is independence!


Carrots are the workhorse of winter cooking, receding somewhat into the background as the aromatic base for soups and stews. Beets, while not quite as versatile as the carrot, are delicious roasted or grated raw in salad. Both are nourishing; packed with vitamins and minerals. Studies done in France, where the carrot is revered as the savory basis of almost everything, suggest that raw carrots alleviate digestive ailments, lower blood cholesterol, and reduce the risk of lung cancer in smokers. Beets, which were developed by German gardeners in the middle ages, are so concentrated, nutritionally speaking, that many vitamins are derived from them. Beets and their tops contain substances that detoxify the liver and clean the blood. In Europe beets are used in cancer therapy.

Roasting root vegetables sweetens and caramelizes them. Large carrots often have a woody core which is best cut out before cooking. Beets bleed when cut, so if you don’t want their juices staining other foods in the dish, cook them separately or roast in the oven with skins on, and slip off the skins when cooked. (I happen to love the jewel-like stain beets impart to other root vegetables when cooked together!)

Oven Roasted Carrots and Beets

Preheat oven to 400 F.

6 medium carrots
6 medium beets
¼ cup olive oil
Salt and pepper

Wash, peel and trim the ends of carrots and beets and cut them into pieces that are roughly the same size and shape.

In a large bowl, toss the carrots and beets together with the olive oil, and season generously with salt and pepper. Spread the vegetables evenly in a baking pan in a single layer, and roast, uncovered, stirring and tossing occasionally, until the vegetables are tender, for 20 to 45 minutes.

Serves 4 to 6


Salad of Beet, Apple and Endive

2 medium beets, trimmed, peeled and quartered
1 medium apple, peeled and quartered
1 head of curly endive, or lettuce, rinsed, dried and torn into pieces
Balsamic vinegar, or blueberry vinegar
Olive oil
1 shallot, peeled and chopped
Sea salt and freshly ground pepper
Fresh chopped parsley
Goat or Roquefort cheese, crumbled (optional)

Grate the beets and apple in a food processor, or by hand. Put into a bowl with chopped shallot, 1 TBL vinegar, and 2 ½ TBL olive oil. Mix, and let rest for 15 minutes to marinate.

Prepare the greens: right before serving whisk 1 TBL vinegar with salt and pepper to taste in a bowl. Add 2 ½ TBL olive oil in a thin stream, whisking constantly. Add the endive or lettuce and toss so that the leaves are coated with the dressing. Arrange the leaves on a serving platter. Toss the beets one more time and mound atop the lettuce, leaving the lettuce showing around the edges.

Garnish with crumbled cheese, if desired, and chopped parsley.

Serves 4 to 6

Pesto, but Hold the Basil

Now that basil flourishes in my garden, releasing its heady fragrance at the touch and making a grand gesture of sliced tomatoes or the simplest of pasta dishes, I am reminded to put up some jars of pesto for the winter.

No sooner are we in mid-summer swing in our short growing season than fall and an unexpected frost are right around the corner. Basil is the tenderest of plants; its leaves will blacken at the first nip of frost. A year’s supply of this most delectable herb can be lost in a twinkling of an eye to the first cold snap, while we are too busy harvesting everything else in the garden.

The aromatic pungency of basil is distinctly Mediterranean—its flavor and fragrance take us on a Roman holiday. Basil is the queen of global gourmet, tasting dramatically of summer’s heat--a fine match for other southern European imports like tomato and pasta.

Pesto comes from the Italian, meaning to pound, or crush. Known since Roman times, this pungent sauce of crushed herbs, garlic and oil originated in the Genoese countryside, where a particularly intense basil grows wild. The addition of cheese and nuts is a regional variation. (Commercially prepared pesto generally contains both.) A version called pistou made simply with basil, garlic and oil comes from Provence, where it is used to flavor the hearty vegetable soups which are a specialty of that region.

Pesto is traditionally made by crushing the herbs and garlic in small batches with a mortar and pestle; a food processor makes the job easier, though purists would say that the mortar and pestle bring out more flavor. The herbs and garlic are chopped finely in the processor, then oil is added in a thin stream with the motor running until blended to a smooth paste. Cheese, nuts or other flavorings are added last.

Several years ago I began thinking about what herbs and greens more suited to our northern climate could be preserved pesto-style in oil to liven up our winter fare of bean soups, stews, and roasted root vegetables. At this stage in my life I am more interested in native-ness than novelty. I no longer want to spend time pampering plants that are--however attractive—out of place in our climate and food culture. Nothing about basil relates to the scents or tastes of the North; Basil and balsam? Basil and venison? Basil and potato? --quite incongruous!

Here is my short list of alternatives to basil for pesto making:

Over the years I have grown to appreciate parsley for its vigor, versatility, and year-round ability to make simple foods special. Its sweet-sour flavor is enhanced by garlic and goes beautifully with traditional New England food, from venison to braised cabbage and corn salad. I have harvested parsley from under the snow in December, and if I had to grow only one herb, this would be it. While I still preserve basil for winter pastas, I keep a jar of parsley pesto always at hand. My favorite variety this year is Gigante d’Italia, a flat-leaved Italian heirloom with an unusual sweetness (from Fedco Seeds).

Kale, Swiss chard, and arugula (rocket) thrive in our cool fall temperatures and also make delicious pesto. Kale and chard should be cooked before processing. I use chard pesto as a sauce for roasted beets. Spicy arugula can be combined with basil, walnuts, garlic and lemon juice for an interestingly different sauce. Try a pesto made with mint, garlic, pine nuts and lemon juice with crumbled goat cheese and lamb.

Basic Parsley Pesto made with garlic and oil is my kitchen essential; great as a base for salad dressings, sauces, or brushed on grilled meats and fish. A dollop of it will enliven any soup. Nuts or cheese can be added to the basic recipe even after the mixture has been frozen and thawed.

2 cups packed parsley leaves, washed and dried
4 large garlic cloves, peeled, green centers removed (or to taste)
½ -1 cup good quality olive oil
Salt and freshly ground pepper, to taste
Freshly squeezed lemon juice (optional)

Using the steel blade in the processor, drop garlic cloves into the bowl with the motor running to finely chop garlic. Add the parsley leaves and continue to process until they are chopped fine. Add oil in a thin stream until the pesto has reached a desired consistency (thinner, if adding cheese or nuts). Taste, and add salt and pepper, or a dash of fresh lemon juice for more zest.


Kale Pesto made from Tuscan kale (cavolo nero) has a distinct flavor, delicious as a spread on hearty bread, or an enrichment to bean and vegetable soup. I grow Tuscan kale just for this purpose. Kale, cabbage or Swiss chard may also be used in this recipe. Kale is tougher and may need more cooking; cabbage produces a more delicately flavored pesto.

1 lb Tuscan kale, kale, Swiss chard or ½ cabbage
3/4 tsp coarse sea salt
2 garlic cloves
½ cup or more extra virgin olive oil

Carefully wash the kale, chard or cabbage in a sinkful of warm water. Remove the tough central ribs of kale or chard and the core of cabbage. If using cabbage, cut the head into chunks.

Steam the greens or cabbage for 10 or 15 minutes or until tender. Kale will take longer to cook than cabbage. Refresh briefly in chilled water, and drain and squeeze to remove all excess moisture.

Puree the vegetable, garlic, oil and salt in the food processor to form a smooth, stiff paste. Store in the refrigerator in a glass jar, covered with a layer of oil, where it will keep for a week or more.


Note: Pesto can be stored in the fridge for up to four weeks (herb pestos last longer refrigerated than cooked vegetable versions), and frozen for up to one year. I use small mason jars for freezing. When pesto is exposed to the air a natural enzymatic action will cause it to darken. This discoloration does not indicate spoilage. Top pesto with olive oil as you use it to prevent air from discoloring the pesto.

Blueberry Pleasures

My neighbor, Mertie Abbott has been picking wild blueberries for as long as she can remember. During her childhood she and her sister looked forward to a day of picking with their parents. Her mother would make a picnic lunch of fresh biscuits, home-canned meat and cucumbers, and they would travel by horse and wagon to places where the blueberries were plentiful on abandoned farms, or along the railroad bed on the way to Rangeley. Years later Mertie and her own young family would camp on Mt. Blue to pick blueberries. They had no tent, and her daughter Elaine remembers with delight sleeping under the stars on those special trips.

Mertie’s face lights up with pleasure when she recounts these stories of gathering ripe blueberries. The pleasure of a family day together off the farm, the pleasure of being outdoors in the sunshine, the pleasure of a simple picnic (even now she remembers how good those homemade biscuits were!), and later, the pleasure of opening a jar of blueberry jam during the long Maine winter.

At 83, she still picks berries, and there is always a delicious pie to be pulled from her freezer. She is often accompanied by her daughter and great-grandchildren.

The Abbott family’s yearly blueberrying has enriched their connection to each other and to their native countryside, providing a long-lasting enjoyment no trip to the supermarket can begin to duplicate.

Wild, lowbush blueberries are part of Maine’s food heritage and culture. Before the advent of commercially canned and frozen foods, people picked and canned for themselves. Now, most of the wild fruit is eaten by birds and animals.
Berries and wild apples are perhaps the greatest neglected resource we have. Rich in antioxidants, vitamins and minerals, the tons of wild fruit in our back yards could nourish every man, woman and child in Franklin County.

If we get out to pick it.

Lucky you if you happen to have a patch of wild blueberries nearby. Blueberries are choosy about where they grow: usually an open hillside where the soil is acid enough. If their conditions are stable, the plants will survive in the same spot for years. In Franklin County wild blueberries are ripe for picking from late July into September. (The higher the elevation, the later the ripening.)

Keep fresh blueberries cool but do not refrigerate for the best flavor. Blueberries freeze extremely well. If you pick your own from the wild or from an organic farm, you can freeze them without washing. Gallon-sized freezer bags hold about four pounds of berries. Once frozen, it’s a snap to thaw out any amount for pancakes, a pie, or jam. They are delicious mixed into yoghurt or hot oatmeal for breakfast. A dessert sauce is embarrassingly easy: gently cook a cupful of fresh or frozen berries with sugar and a little water until tender.

Wild blueberries have a bright, tart flavor that is enhanced by the addition of some sugar in cooking. But don’t overdo. Some jams are so sweet you can’t find the blueberry in them! A dash of lemon juice or lemon peel also enhances their flavor in jams and cooked deserts.

Blueberry Scones

I make these scones with frozen blueberries for a treat after an afternoon of cross-country skiing. The prep time is about 10 minutes, and they are so good you won’t want to have them too often! It is a great way to use up raw milk (available locally) that has begun to sour in your fridge.

2 cups of sifted flour
½ tsp salt
2 tsp baking powder
¼ tsp baking soda
¼ cup butter
1 cup blueberries, semi-thawed
½ cup of buttermilk, soured milk or plain yoghurt
1 TBL honey or unsulphured molasses

Sift together flour, salt, baking powder and soda. Cut in butter to size of peas. Add berries and mix lightly. Make a hollow and gradually pour in milk and honey or molasses. Stir well. Pat dough with hands, to avoid crushing berries, to ½” thickness. Cut in triangles. Place on greased baking sheet. Bake in 425 F oven 12 – 15 minutes. Split, spread with butter, and serve hot. Yum!

6 – 8 scones


Low Sugar Blueberry Jam

A jar of this jam will not last long! This recipe came from a French cook who loved our blueberries. It uses less sugar than standard American recipes and no additional pectin. Use any amount of berries you happen to have: the proportion is half the weight of sugar to berries.

3 pounds of blueberries, rinsed
1 ½ pounds sugar
1 tsp. freshly grated lemon zest
2 TBL fresh lemon juice

Cook the berries over high heat in a non-reactive pot, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon and crushing them with the back of the spoon, for 5 minutes. (The water left clinging to the berries will be enough to prevent them from scorching.)

Add the sugar, zest, and lemon juice and cook the mixture over low heat, stirring, until the sugar is dissolved. Increase the heat to medium and boil the jam, skimming frequently, for 15 - 20 minutes, or until the jellying point has been reached. (A spoonful of jam should solidify on a saucer which has been chilled in the freezer.)

Ladle the jam into warm, sterilized jars and seal.

3 pounds of blueberries makes 1 ½ quarts of jam.

The jam can be made with frozen berries: they will need more cooking time.

Note: the USDA recommends using a hot water bath as part of the canning process. I have never had a jar of jam spoil using this recipe, which does not include a hot water bath. Use common sense and err on the side of caution with any food preservation technique.