Scapes and Sales

It's a treacherous dip into crumb-crusted highchairs and snowman-themed flower arrangements. An errant earring here; a cracked Crock Pot there. But in and among the junk, there's beauty. An exquisite spatula, or an antique whiskey bottle (in my case, American Four Aces Rye Whiskey, made in Quebec). Moments of small glory. Moments offering a pleasure not unlike the warm tinge of an American whiskey. Or a Canadian one.

In other words, I've been getting into garage sales. Especially the country ones, where Ball jars and rusted plows and the occasional Casio keyboard are all spread out on a farmhouse lawn, awaiting the scrutiny of seriously shopping middle-aged women, classifieds tucked under their arms.

My bike kept me in city limits this morning, but I managed a couple good finds.
























An oddly intricate kitchen towel (or is it a wall hanging?) for a quarter, for one. I loved the conversation:

Seller: Oh, do you have a rooster kitchen?
Me: Uh, not really. I just thought it was cute.

Then there was the woman with fake pearls and slightly hideous rhinestones and pocket-watches. I scored a lovely orange necklace (plus one, yes one, matching earring) for a dollar.

And at the Farmers Market, not a garage sale but close enough, I stumbled upon some lovely garlic scapes — the green tendrils that sprout from the bulbs we pulse into our pesto and chimichurri. Sort of a hybrid asparagus-green bean-chive, they're a vegetable in their own right, begging to be steamed or sauteed. The flavor's way more mellow than garlic. The texture smooth and snappy. The color brilliant. They are, in a word, perfect.




















Plus, I just love their thin curlicue stalks. They evoke the mysterious interwoven vines of a mossy forest, or a fairy tale garden. But thanks to big-shot press in the New York Times and elsewhere, scapes are no longer a secret.

A half-pound of (organic, obviously) garlic scapes set me back $2.50. I could have bought like 15 beanie babies for that. But they were well worth it. Trimmed and tamed, I sauteed the scapes in olive oil and tossed them all into an egg-pesto concoction with broccoli and tomatoes. It was the perfect lunch — bright and fragrant but, to be honest, easy. Sale-ing offered enough strain for one day.

Garage Sale Saturday Green Eggs 'n Scapes

• 1/4 pound garlic scapes (only available spring/early summer, so hurry)
• 1 cup broccoli, florets and peeled stems
• 1/4 cup tomato
• 3 eggs
• splash of milk
• 1/4 cup pesto
• 1 T olive oil
• parmesan for sprinkling

Wash the scapes and cut off the pointy ends. Cut into 2-inch pieces and set aside. Trim broccoli into bite-sized pieces and chop the tomato.

Beat eggs with milk, pesto, salt and pepper. Set aside.

Heat oil in a skillet on high heat. Toss in scapes, along with a dash of salt, and cook 3-5 minutes, tossing occasionally, or until bright green and tender. Scoop onto a plate and set aside. Reheat skillet and add broccoli and a splash of water and salt. Cover and cook on medium-high heat for 3 minutes. Uncover and add tomatoes; cook another minute until water cooks off.

Add cooked scapes to other vegetables, reduce to medium heat. Stir in egg mixture. Cook, stirring frequently until eggs are almost set (but still a little runny). Turn off heat, stir in parmesan, and allow to sit for a minute. (If you're me, take a picture at this point).














Enjoy. Makes one big serving, or one regular-sized serving with some leftovers. This is nothing more than a template; you could add or remove vegetables, ham, bacon, or really anything, and I'm sure it'd be good. Maybe even scape-your-plate clean good.

(sorry)