If there's one thing Bay Area backyard gardeners can count on at this time of year, it's kale. Our cool, typically damp winter weather is tailor-made for hearty winter greens, ones that can thrive through hard frosts, even snow. And though winter's rains may be passing us by, with a little irrigation, the crinkly kale, dino kale, red or white Russian kale should be growing like crazy in whatever pot, plot, or raised bed you've got planted.

Shop the farmers' markets these days, and while the first, $8/lb sugar-snap peas may be starting to appear, the backbone of the veggie tables are dark-green, iron-rich greens: punchy mustard greens, mellow collards, rainbow-ribbed chard, plus green or burgundy beet tops, the gift of two-veg-in-one that comes free with every bunch of sweet roots.

So: time to love your greens. We served a lot of greens during my time cooking at the Headlands Center for the Arts, yet we were pretty content to do them the same way each time. A handful of minced shallot was flung into sizzling olive oil, chopped greens were added, then the whole was stirred and stirred until just wilted and tender. To finish, we tossed in a quick splash of sherry vinegar or a couple of lemons, sliced into eighths and crushed a little to release the juice and aromatic oils. I do mine at home much the same way, with slivered garlic instead of shallots, and a healthy shake of red pepper flakes for a little burn. Nice with rice and tofu, nice with polenta and sausage, nice leftover cold out of the pan, eaten with your fingers while doing the dishes.

Now, though, during greens' moment in the sun, dinner is not enough. Greens need to find a home at every meal. A lot of farm mornings began with eggs and kale, as we counted down the weeks until the potato harvest. I love green eggs and ham, made from emerald-green minced nettles sauteed and stirred into scrambled eggs with a bit of proscuitto draped on top. And, then, for lunch, there are kale chips, kale Caesar salad, pasta with kale, Portuguese caldo verde with kale, potatoes, and linguica sausage, kale every way.

But have you thought about a kale sandwich? I did, this past weekend, when I was making breakfast and lunch for a staff and board members' retreat, 25 people needing muffins and sandwiches to help them forget that a sunny, beautiful beach was just five minutes' walk away from where they were trapped around a darkened conference table with spreadsheets and PowerPoint. My solution? Quinoa-almond-citrus salad, lentil-beet-mint salad, chocolate-chip oatmeal cookies, apple-cherry cider, turkey sandwiches, and the veggie crowning glory, kale sandwiches. Oh, you may laugh, but they were lively, colorful stacks that turned out to be much more than the sum of their vitamin-packed parts. The elements? Sauteed greens and onions piled on whole-wheat focaccia dabbed with Dijon mustard, layered with thin slices of roasted winter squash, topped with Weirauch Farm and Creamery's Tomme Fraiche or creamy Doubloon cheese, and finished with a smear of tart-tangy plum chutney or punchy arugula pesto.

It takes a while to make a sandwich when you're making everything from bread to pesto from scratch. So, while homemade focaccia is always the best, feel free to substitute any good bread of choice, from Acme's herb slab to the sesame loaf baked by Morell's Bread (pictured here). The chutney, luckily, I'd made earlier in the summer, to rescue a batch of less-than-stellar jam. Boring, slightly-too-sweet stone-fruit jam, it turns out, can make a very successful base for chutney, once it's jazzed up and cooked down with cider vinegar, chopped onions, and plenty of aromatic spices. If you don't have a pantry full of chutney on hand, I'd recommend any of Alison McQuade's excellent, small-batch chutneys, sold under the name McQuade's Celtic Chutney. Or, you can retrieve that slightly shriveled, almost-wilted bunch of arugula from down in the vegetable drawer and buzz it together with a couple tablespoons of walnuts or pine nuts, a couple cloves of garlic, salt to taste, the juice of a lemon, a splash of water and a few tablespoons of olive oil. Puree until smooth, and taste. It will probably taste too tannic from the walnuts, too sharp from the arugula, and leave you wishing for summer's fragrant basil.

No worry, though: a solution is at hand. Crumble in a moist, creamy-mild Doubloon cheese, made by Weirauch Farm and Creamery in Petaluma. Instantly, the spread is tamed, its punch tempered with creaminess. When you're picking up your Doubloons, get another one, this one rolled in herbes de Provence, along with a wedge of their springy, buttery Tomme Fraiche.

Now, onto your squash. Butternut, kabocha, pumpkin, whatever hard-shelled winter squash you've had languishing on the counter since your last CSA box. Not acorn, though; too pasty and stringy. You want dense, sweet and nutty for this. Peel and seed your squash, and slice the flesh into thin half-moons. Oil lightly, sprinkled with salt and pepper, and roast at 400F until tender.

While the squash is roasting, slice up an onion, red or yellow. In a wide pan, saute it in olive oil until tangled and translucent. You can let it go farther and get browned here and there, halfway to caramelization. Keep some texture, though; you want recognizable loops, not onion jam. Wash but don't dry your greens, which don't have to be kale but should be some mixture of sturdy greens, rather than something weepingly delicate like spinach. I used a mixture of collards, mustard, and beet tops, but any tough-ish greens will do. Shred your greens and toss them into the hot pan full of onions. Stir and season with salt and pepper until greens are wilted and just tender. Take a bite; you shouldn't feel like you're chewing on a raincoat, but they shouldn't be boiled to mush, either. Pull off the stove and let cool.

Now, the assemblage. Slice your focaccia horizontally, if using; otherwise, slice your bread. Spread chutney or pesto on the inside of one piece. Add a few pieces of Tomme Fraiche, or crumble on a tablespoon or so of Doubloon. On the second slice of bread, spread a dab of Dijon mustard. Pile on some greens and onions. Layer on some slices of roasted squash, as if you're laying out a row of cards in solitaire. Put the halves together with a firm but gentle squish. Enjoy!

Alison McQuade at the Clift Hotel

McQuade’s Celtic Chutneys are made by the San Francisco-based “Chutney Chef” Alison McQuade. This writer has seen McQuade’s chutneys used for private and catered events, as accoutrements with cheese and meat platters…and more. McQuade hails from Glasgow, Scotland, and has lived in the U.S. for the past thirty years. BAB contributor Amy Sherman reported in 2005 how McQuade got her start:

“One year I made chutney to give away as Christmas presents. It was my grandmother's recipe and I went online to make labels and get jars. I gave some to my hairdresser and she asked me to bring some more over for one of her customers--I thought that was a wee bit cheeky! This was a gift after all. But it turned out she had a tasting going on and her customer was one of the owners of Cowgirl Creamery. My first paying customer, she said she wanted 60 of each flavor.”

Consumers can find the chutneys locally at Cowgirl, Irish Castle Gift Shop, Falletti Foods, Cheese Plus, and Whole Foods SOMA. This growing chutney business is the winner of a 2006 Independent Food Festival & Awards. McQuade shared with BAB some recent product developments: “I'm currently introducing a new line of jellies -- pomegranate habanero, serrano pepper, pear chocolate jalapeno, zinfandel chocolate and pinot noir.”

McQuade: “I have lived in ‘Tenderloin Heights’ for years and love this area with its proximity to shops, restaurants and the park at Grace Cathedral … only two blocks away!” She’s hoping “at some point in the very near future to start a little soup kitchen with the help of some local neighbors. There are so many aging and sick people around us here in San Francisco. I'd like to pitch in and help a little more. I work with Dinner With Grace, [which is] a Grace Cathedral run service where volunteers cook food on Tuesday night twice a month. On the Wednesday, we deliver the food and eat with the residents of nearby SRO hotels.”

Here are McQuade’s favorite food and drink spots:

THE FAVORITES:
I love the Shakshuka from Cafe Zitouna (North African) on Polk Street. It's generally breakfast food, but they serve it all day with lamb sausage and it's just amazing!

Lahore Karahi -- I'm constantly in search for the best mattar paneer. I've found my favorite version yet is here. Unfortunately, they've been closed the past couple of weeks but are about to reopen so I can get my fix.

Farm:Table does such lovely bites for breakfast. I love their daily boiled eggs served on baguette gussied up with bacon and greens, mushroom, radish and even chutney! They tweet their menu every day and it's always mouthwatering! [SFoodie noted McQuade’s curry-gold habanero chutney served with said eggs last year ]

Sugar Café (soups made from scratch every week day by Ignacio the soup king): I crave his cauliflower cheese soup.

The Huntington Hotel for happy hour is one of my favorites. They oftentimes provide appetizers and there’s always something the chef has just whipped up on the spur of the moment.

GUILTY PLEASURE
Zante's Indian pizza: I will often have that delivered on a rainy night (they deliver all over the city). That's all I need … served with a refreshing amber beer!

WINE TIME
I have two favorite wine bars -- Hidden Vine (which is about to move to the financial area) but I'm one hundred percent certain something interesting is going to take its place.

Also, the Rosebowl Florist and Wine Bar, a little hidden gem in opera plaza. Deidra keeps this rather small place stocked with an interesting and well-priced selection of wine. She'll often put out little plates of food to keep the regulars happy. A nice lively selection of people frequent this place almost every evening.

FOOD SHOPPING
I do like to shop in my neighborhood as well as the Ferry Building, where I get all my fresh fruit and vegetables. I like to support the mom and pop stores and the one near where I live, Mayflower Market is the friendliest and best stocked of all the little markets. They have an incredible range of packaged food, organic, juices, [and a] and sandwich counter. Often times, the Mom will be making some delicious meatball dish with spices from scratch and she always insists everyone has a taste.

I also love to shop in Japantown--especially at Nijiya, where they have an excellent selection of fresh fish and sashimi. I always leave with some crackers or little cookies individually wrapped. They make for interesting and well-received presents!

Need a present for yourself? For readers who don’t live near any of the stores that sell McQuade’s, the products are newly available on Amazon.com.

Website: McQuade’s Celtic Chutneys
Twitter: @mcquadechutneys
Facebook: McQuade's Celtic Chutney

Fig chutney with cheese, crackers, and cashews.

Did you like your presents? Although I was hoping for cashmere socks, the funniest, etsy-est thing I got this year was a little poster from my sister, printed in block type, that read, "Today I will be happier than a bird with a French fry." Words to live by, my friends!

And what else do you have, in the holiday aftermath? The days after Christmas are often the best part, when the stress-inducing members of the family have gone up to the Wharf or down to Disneyland, and you're left with the fun sibs, the leftover booze, and a fridge full of leftover cold turkey and ham.

What's better than a stiff drink and a ham-and-turkey sandwich with people you never have to impress? I'll tell you: a ham-and-turkey sandwich dolloped with chutney, that's what. And not just any common-or-garden chutney, no sirree Bob, but McQuade's Celtic Chutney, made by red-headed Scotswoman Alison McQuade in small, aromatic batches, just like you would at home, if you were lucky enough to come from chutney-making people.

Hailing from Glasgow, McQuade comes by the Celtic appellation honestly, but her chutneys have a distinct California twist, thanks to the spark of heat and spice that zaps each one. Habanero and apple, fig and ginger (made with dried figs), and spiced apple are her mainstays, with other varieties rotated in depending on what's in season.

Walking through the darkened downtown San Francisco restaurant where McQuade rents kitchen space in the off hours, I could smell the sharp, sweet zip of spice and vinegar the moment I stepped in from the street. Back in the small, fluorescent-lit kitchen, McQuade and an assistant are stirring two pots on the stove, each half-full chopped figs, cider vinegar, brown sugar, raisins, apples, lemon zest and a plum pudding's worth of spices—nutmeg, ginger, allspice, cloves, cinnamon—all cooking down to a rich and fragrant gloss.

On the counter are boxes of fresh Fuyu persimmons, a backyard gift from the owners of the Hidden Vine wine bar nearby, a favorite hangout of McQuade's. They'll go into a new winter favorite, persimmon-habanero chutney. At the cozy Farm:Table cafe just a few blocks away (where McQuade often starts her day), jars of ruby cranberry-mandarin Christmas chutney are stacked up by the cash register. For McQuade, the chutney business is as much about building relationships and forging community as it is about filling jars.

Much of McQuade's ingredients are sourced locally, from farms like Torey's Farms, which she loves for their top-quality stone fruit and citrus. Cooking in small quantities (each batch usually fills about 30 7-oz jars) allows for a lot of flexibility. If something good turns up—fresh spring rhubarb, those backyard persimmons, a great deal on bananas or pineapple—she can adjust (or invent) a recipe on the spot, tossing the new variety into her ever-evolving product line.

Like many small-scale food artisans, McQuade had a long professional career first, working for the British Consulate and at law firms in both New York and Los Angeles. Missing the chutneys her grandmother had made while she was growing up in Scotland, she set to making a few jars for family and friends, bringing them to parties and giving it as gifts. Her hairdresser happened to try some, and a few days later called her from the salon. Get down here now with your chutney, she demanded. There's someone here who needs to try it. McQuade, mystified but intrigued, grabbed a few jars and headed over. The woman in question took a taste and asked for 60 cases on the spot.

She turned out to be Peggy Smith, one of the founders of Cowgirl Creamery, whose cheese shops have remained one of McQuade's best customers. That was 5 years ago, and now McQuade's chutneys are available in shops throughout the Bay Area, including Bi-Rite, Falletti's, Tomales Bay Foods, Whole Foods, Cheese Plus, and more. Restaurant and bars like Range, Hidden Vine, and the St. Francis Hotel's Clock Bar have found uses for her sweet-spicy-tangy spreads, adding it to cheese plates, even putting it into cocktails themselves.

Lately, she's been exploring more savory ways of using her chutneys, like shrimp stir-fry made with habanero chutney, or pork roast glazed with fig. Scrambled eggs, cheddar cheese, blue cheese, just about any kind of cold meat or sandwich: they're all the better for a smear of chutney to keep out the cold. Even peanut butter's better for a chutney hookup: the late (and much-loved) novelist and food writer Laurie Colwin often waxed rhapsodic about chutney, fondly recalling a tiny, perfect peanut butter-and-chutney sandwich she'd been served once at a cocktail party.

For next year, McQuade is working on a line of savory shortbreads flavored with fresh herbs like thyme and rosemary. Will they go with chutney? Did you even have to ask?

Canning for me conjures up childhood memories of being in the kitchen with my mom and her friends, usually on a hot steamy Texas summer day, and "putting up" bread and butter pickles, fresh raspberry jam (with seeds!), and ripe whole tomatoes. Even with the sweat pouring down your face, there's no better time to can than in the middle of the summer, at the height of the season, when everything is bursting with flavor: crisp cucumbers, ripe red tomatoes, juicy stone fruits, plump berries. Better still when you can pick that fruit out of your own garden.

We are lucky enough to have a big shady plum tree, right smack in the middle of our little garden, right smack in the heart of the Mission in San Francisco. If you think that isn't fair, then start making friends with people who have fruit trees and vegetable gardens; we always seem to have more than we can eat or harvest and are looking for others who will enjoy it.

Tales of plum wine gone awry (think essence of gasoline) from years past still haunt my flat and the flats above me. And last year we missed the boat and the plums ripened before we could harvest them. Which meant tracking slimy fruit globs into the house, sticky matted fur on the cat, and drunken birds and rats feasting on the fermenting fruit. In an effort to avoid that joyous occurrence (have I not painted a lovely picture?), my roommate Gary (staunch believer in preparing for the revolution) made a concerted effort to rally the troops and plan for the big harvest.

So a few weeks ago, when the tree was bursting with perfectly ripe, big juicy green plums, we set aside our sunny Sunday and three of us--armed with our giant canning pot, a ladder, and numerous plastic grocery bags--plucked all of the plums we could reach.

After throwing around elaborate ideas of jams and jellies and syrups and pickles and more, including drawing up a chart of flavors that go well with plum (including but not limited to cardamom, ginger, and whisky) as well as different preparations (including roasting the plums) we arrived at a consensus: to prepare a simple plum jam that would let the tart yet subtle plum flavor shine, and a more interesting plum and apple chutney.

It took all day, but after a while, the cold beers came out, the sweat started pouring down our faces, and it was all worth it.

G-Street Plum Chutney
Makes about 14 8-oz jars

2 cups sugar (or a bit less if the plums are very sweet)
1 1/2 cups white vinegar
1 cup water
1 teaspoon salt
2 sticks cinnamon, broken into 1-inch pieces
1 2-inch piece fresh ginger, peeled and thickly sliced
1 teaspoon whole allspice
Cheesecloth
About 6 1/2 lbs plums, pitted and quartered
2 large apples, such as Granny Smith, peeled, cored, and diced
1/2 large yellow onion, peeled and finely diced

In a large, heavy pot, combine the sugar, vinegar, water, and salt. In a 6-inch square of cheesecloth, tie the cinnamon sticks, ginger, and allspice into a pouch and add it to the pot. Heat the mixture over medium-high heat until boiling, stirring occasionally. Reduce the heat to medium and simmer for about 5 minutes until the mixture becomes syrupy.

Add the plums, apples, and onions. Cook, stirring often, over low heat, until the mixture is thickened, about 40-60 minutes. Remove the spice bag. Seal in hot sterilized jars.

For proper canning instructions, check out:

A very serious and official guide

A good online step-by-step guide

Paul and Bernice, who are awesome!

special thanks to Gary and Keith for the lovely plummy pix