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A recent study found that cherry tomatoes grown in salt water can turn out tastier and heartier than ones grown normally, partially because the plants have to fight harder to fight the environmental stress and produce more compounds to help them cope. These compounds contain antioxidants like Vitamins C and E, which have healthy effects on those who consume the fruit.

The solution only contains 20% seawater. Unfortunately, not all genotypes of tomatoes react in the same way to the salt water. Some die because they cannot counteract the free radicals from the solution, so don't try to do this with larger tomatoes; it probably won't work. In the study, the water was constantly circulated and the pH controlled by a computer, so the researchers promise that the tomatoes won't taste salty.

The researchers, based at the University of Pisaone in Italy, are encouraging the growth of tomatoes in brackish water, because it will not only lead to juicier, healthier tomatoes, but will help to preserve our freshwater supplies.

This week, NPR's Kitchen Window series gives us some insight into the simple, wholesome recipes of the Shaker culture, in which food is carefully used and never wasted. They grew and prepared their own food, which was nutritious and well-rounded, and sat down to meals with often 300 at a table, everyone sharing in the bounty.

Here we get a few recipes adapted from "The Best of Shaker Cooking," including Peas and Potatoes in New Cream, Cream of Asparagus soup, and the 5-ingredient Shaker Lemon Pie. One Shaker chef explains the pie like this: "You've got to watch it, take care of it, pamper it...you can taste the difference."

Could a restaurant be so appealing, so irresistable, that you'd wait a year to get a reservation?

This one apparently is: Talula's Table in rural Pennsylvania, has been called the most difficult reservation to get in the country. Talula's is about an hour outside of Philly, has only one large farm table that seats 12, and is run by a husband and wife team. There's a store that sells cakes, pies, soups, and over 150 different kinds of cheeses (the co-owner spent her life studying cheeses).

But the real treat appears to be the restaurant. The eight-course tasting menu, which features fresh and primarily local ingredients, is the same every day for about 5-6 weeks, and then changes depending on what's in season.

The day that one NPR reporter visited, the menu was as follows: egg custard; mushroom risotto; hand-rolled rigatoni with snails; pampano roasted with a mango-saffron broth; pork osso bucco; lamb; blue-raisin chutney semolina; and for dessert - deep breath - a coffee-infused bavarian creme with bittersweet and white chocolate over a piece of buttery shortbread, covered in a blood orange jelly.

And for the record? If you want a reservation, call them tomorrow starting at 7 a.m. The first person to call that day gets the next reservation a year from now, and the process repeats itself the next day, and the next, and the next...

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You can't help but really like Ellie Matthews. Ten years ago, she won the Pillsbury Bake-Off with her Salsa Couscous Chicken recipe, a blend of salsa and the flavors of Morocco.

Now she's written a book about her experiences: "The Ungarnished Truth: A Cooking Contest Memoir."

NPR's Steve Inskeep recently chatted with Matthews. Turns out, she's an unbelievably down-to-earth, sweet woman with a self-deprecating streak that you can't help but appreciate. Throughout the interview, she insists that she's not anyone special, that she "doesn't claim to be a better cook than anyone else." Typically, Matthews says, she will "buy ingredients that look good, wrestle them into a pan, and serve a meal."

"I'm not a fussy cook," Matthews said. "I don't put four different kinds of sea salt into something, or 18 different kinds of vinegar" (it could be assumed that the book title partially refers to the fact that her final recipe for the contest wasn't garnished or artfully arranged, but she won anyway).

What's more, she didn't even really seem all that impressed with the prize money. She simply enjoys cooking, and was a little disappointed when she won because she knew it would disqualify her from participating in the contest again.

As for what she did with the money? She admitted, "I'd like to think my life is just more than just what I buy on a whim or how I indulge myself," and then said that if she was, say, at a plant nursery, she could maybe splurge on a new plant for her garden.

Again: how can you not like this woman?

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I once whined to my mother (aka: Knower of All Things Culinary, and Go-To Person for All of Life's Quanadries) that I couldn't make a decent crepe without a crepe pan, and she waved my complaint away with her hand, insisting that while a crepe pan is nice, it's definitely not necessary.

On NPR's Kitchen Window series, we're reminded of this glorious food. Really, how can one simple butter-flour-milk mixture hold so much potential? NPR provided two simple recipes - one for a sweet crepe, and one for savory. I decided to tackle the savory one, substituting Morningstar faux chicken strips for real chicken. (The greenish blob on the top is 365 Brand Pesto - I really have to work on presentation).

As I attempted the little devils, I came to some important conclusions:
1). Let the butter soften before mixing it in the food processor. Otherwise, you will wind up with weird lumps in your batter.
2). Make sure your pan is really, really hot and really, really well-oiled.
3). If you do not like gummy, rubbery crepes, add ONLY 1/4 cup of batter and cook until the thing is lightly dotted with brown spots.
4.) If at first you don't succeed...

As you can see by the myriad conclusions, it took one or two tries before I figured it out. Granted, they aren't as good at the ones at Philly's Beau Monde, but I was pretty darn proud of myself. But if anyone has any tips for next time (I still have some batter left), please - I'm all ears!

(Oh - and mom was totally right about the pan thing).

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