Monthly Archives: June 2010

Lots of late spring rain has resulted in pretty, purple and fuchsia clematis flowers.


I like to try out new flavors so yesterday morning I bought a bag of sorrel at the farmer’s market while shopping with Susan, her mom and her aunt. Strolling away from the vendor, all four of us suddenly made puckery faces as we sampled the green leaves and tasted the herb’s sharp, sour flavor. I wondered what the heck I’d just bought and whether I’d been the victim of some mischievous farmer’s joke.

This morning I hopped online hoping to find out what on earth to do with the stuff and came across a post on for Poached Egg on Toast with Sorrel. The recipe called for ingredients I had just purchased, like whole grain bread from Great Harvest, and also put to use fresh turnip greens I’d bought and just-laid-eggs from the chickens in my backyard. In an effort to temper the sorrel’s sharp flavor I added the turnip greens and a dash of Starlight Herbs‘ Moroccan seasoning to the sautéed herb as well as a thick smear of fresh avocado on the toast.

The result was a satisfying breakfast dish with a lemony bite enriched by the buttery avocado and the Moroccan seasoning’s exotic touch. I was going to snap a photo but all I have left is two empty plates that appear to have been licked clean.

Saute 1 bunch chopped sorrel leaves and 1 bunch chopped turnip greens in butter. You’ll start out with a lot of greens, but they wilt down to almost nothing. While cooking, add a few shakes of Moroccan seasoning, salt and freshly ground pepper to taste. Remove pan from heat.

Toast two slices of whole grain bread. Smush and smear half an avocado on each toasted slice. Top with sautéed greens.

Poach four eggs the way you like them; place them atop the toast. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

Serves two.

Saturday morning from the ninth floor

I’ve been feeling unusually giddy lately. My husband and I are a few weeks away from celebrating our 25th wedding anniversary. So last Friday night I kidnapped the man and turned him into my love slave. The next morning I released him so we could share an enjoyable breakfast and a stroll through the Saturday farmer’s market together.

Our hideout for the night was a ninth-floor lookout at The Grove Hotel in downtown Boise. My request for a room with a view was answered with a quiet end unit that, in one direction, looked down Eighth Street toward the foothills. We left the drapes on the plate glass window open throughout the evening, using the downtown skyline as our personal night light.

The next morning, under cloudy springtime skies we could see the farmer’s market vendors setting up their tables and portable canopies along the Eighth Street corridor.

After checking out of the hotel we stowed our bags in our car. Locking them up, we stepped into brisk morning air and opted to bypass the perpetual crowd waiting outside of Goldy’s Breakfast Bistro for a table. Instead we walked two blocks north to an under-the-radar gem, the terrific Le Café De Paris.

A pair of strong cappuccinos and a chocolate-almond croissant were barely touched before our breakfast arrived. Hardly a word was spoken as we savored dishes that were impossibly light yet unquestionably satisfying.

Thick Kurobuta ham slices in the perfectly poached duck eggs Benedict had my husband in throes of food ecstasy. I relished every heavenly bite of pain perdu (French toast) made from the French bistro’s tender, handmade brioche. Eating it was almost dreamlike, its texture so light and delicate that I wondered whether I’d really eaten it at all.

Adequately refueled, we headed west one block to the Capitol City Farmer’s Market, where we met up with my friend and usual farmer’s market companion, Susan. Bunches of bok choy and turnips, a couple of sweet winter carrots and a bag of fresh morel mushrooms were among the locally grown produce that made their way into my shopping bag.

“I feel like I’ve had a mini-vacation,” my husband told other friends we bumped into while strolling past the vendors lined up along the four-block stretch of Eighth Street. As warm spring sunshine gently eased the morning chill my honey and I headed home, looking forward to enjoying our official anniversary getaway.