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Archive for August, 2011

Yes, this was a terrible incident, caused by Irene. She was a bitch in the worst sense of the word. It’s hard to talk about it: lost sleep, lost stuff, but in the long run, it was our fault for not being prepared. Oh yes, we were prepared, but not for everything, including not for how the water came in or for the tree that came down on the roof. We survived and that was the most important part. And we actually had a great family experience in the middle of the night, making crazy contraptions to divert the water. Very creative in the spur of the moment (spur being as important as moment). Rube Goldberg, step aside.

With no power and thus a deteriorating food supply but lots of veggies in reach, we went for the simple choices to nourish the workers. The onion and pepper pile on top of grilled sausages reminded me of the traditions of the great Italian festivals of New York like San Gennaro in our former NYC neighborhood, which happens in the next couple of weeks. This solved multiple problems: using fresh and frozen assets, providing nourishment, and recollecting us of joyous times spent together, both past and present, a family gift. 

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Minestrone made with the freshest organic vegetables from our CSA and local farms epitomizes the late summer harvest. It also produces a pile of trimmings that I turn into delicious vegetable stock, some used in the soup and more stashed in the freezer for another day. While we have a village of cylindrical compost piles in the backyard, we try to use as many of our vegetable scraps to feed ourselves before consigning the rest to the heap. Throughout the week, I may add to trimmings stored in the refrigerator if I know I’m going to make chicken stock or a vegetable broth.  I don’t go overboard with this, since refrigerating a swamp is not my idea of maintaining a healthy environment. 

I had made fresh shelling beans earlier in the day and I saved the liquid for the broth, adding water and the trimmings from all of the minestrone ingredients: onions, scallions/leeks, celery, potatoes, carrots, zucchini, beans, tomatoes, basil (stems) and garlic.  I also had a lone large mushroom in the veggie bin so in it went also along with a bit of salt.  I add some salt to bring out the flavor of the vegetables but typically wait until the end when the broth has reduced. When you make vegetable broth, it’s not necessary to throw in the kitchen sink. Try to use ingredients that are complementary, that you could imagine being combined into a dish. The mushroom here was a little of an anomaly but is a frequent ingredient in such broths because of its earthy richness.  

In addition to saving the trimmings of vegetables, I stockpile the rinds of Parmesan cheese, since I like to add one to minestrone and other soups (celery for example), which may end up with a dusting of cheese at the end.  The cheese rinds impart a richness and depth of flavor to the soup.  

Minestrone

1 large onion, chopped

1 leek or several scallions, sliced

2 stalks celery, chopped into the same size pieces as the onion

2 medium-large carrots, cut into ¼-inch pieces

2 medium potatoes, peeled and cut into ¼ -inch pieces

1 medium-large zucchini, cut into ¼-inch pieces

3-4 medium tomatoes, cut into thick chunks

4 slices thick bacon or salt pork, cut into small squares or cubes

Olive oil

4-6 c chicken stock or a combination of chicken stock and vegetable broth (and water)

1 piece of Parmesan cheese rind (1½ – 2 inches square)

Salt and pepper

1 c cooked dried white beans or fresh shelling beans

Optional: ¼ c raw rice

Garnish: Basil pesto made of basil leaves, garlic clove and olive oil

Garnish: Grated Parmesan cheese

Prepare all of the vegetables, reserving the trimmings for broth. (See below for making the broth, which can be done in about 20 minutes before making the minestrone if you plan to incorporate it into the dish.)

Saute the bacon or salt pork slowly in a little olive oil in a saucepan large enough to hold the soup.  Remove the meat when it is crispy and reserve it to add back to the soup later on.

Add the onions and leeks (or scallions) to the pan and cook slowly until translucent. Add the celery, carrots, potatoes, and zucchini, and stir to coat them. Let them cook for a minute or two and add the tomatoes, the liquid and the cheese rind. Season with a little salt and pepper. Simmer for about 15-20 minutes.

Add the beans and rice if using. Simmer for another 15-20 minutes until the rice is cooked. Add the reserved bacon, remove the cheese rind and adjust the seasonings. Serve hot with basil pesto and grated Parmesan cheese.

Vegetable Broth

Place trimmings from complementary vegetables in a large saucepan. Cover with water and add a little salt. Bring to a boil, lower the heat and simmer for 20-30 minutes. Drain and use right away or refrigerate or freeze it.

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You know that summer is coming to an end when shelling beans start ripening in the garden and appearing in the farm markets. These are beans that are often encountered as dried but that are at a certain peak to be eaten fresh. In my own garden, I have a miniscule amount of pink lima beans, planted as a cover crop to nourish the soil with nitrogen but harvested as a bonus.

 From a local organic farm, I have cranberry beans, white beans mottled in pink and magenta shades. These are so picturesque that it’s worth remembering them in their raw state: they turn beige when cooked, but transfer the mental image to a recollection of amazing taste and texture.

 The cooked beans, gently simmered with a few aromatics (onions, celery, carrots), turn creamy and wonderfully flavorful in 10 minutes or so; they are reminiscent of their dried counterparts but fresher in texture and taste. I toss them, still warm, with salt and olive oil, and when cooled, with crushed garlic and finely minced parsley.

 Since we are at the end of a great harvest of green beans, some of the pods are full of fat beans.  In a variation of the simple shelled beans, I added the fat seeds from green bean pods that I cooked until well done, along with sliced green beans with less developed seeds. This was a great combination of creamy and crunchy, a tribute to a season that is making the transition from summer to fall.

Fresh Shelling Beans: cooking and serving simply

About 1 lb shelling beans such as cranberry beans or lima beans

1 small carrot, cut into 1-inch pieces

½ stalk celery, with leaves if possible

1 slice onion

Water

1 tsp salt

1 tbsp olive oil

1 medium garlic clove, crushed

1 tbsp finely minced parsley

Shell the beans and clean them to remove little bits of shell and any dirt that clings to the pods. Place them into a deep saucepan with the carrot, celery and onion. Cover with water (double the depth of the beans) and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook until tender, around 10 minutes (but depending on your beans, it could vary from 5-20 minutes so check them periodically).

Drain the beans, reserving the liquid for vegetable stock (waste not want not). Sprinkle the beans with salt and olive oil and set aside to cool.

When cool, toss the beans with crushed garlic and minced parsley, adjusting the salt and oil to taste.

Variation: Shelling Beans and Green Beans

Cook the fresh shelling beans as above, and toss in olive oil and salt. Separately cook overripe beans in their pods in boiling water until tender. Remove the light green beans and add to the shelling beans. Use the pods to make a vegetable stock. Blanch young green beans in boiling water until tender. Cool and toss with olive oil and salt. Cut into 3/8-inch lengths and add to the shelling beans and toss the entire mix with crushed garlic and minced parsley, adjusting the olive oil and salt as needed.

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I was listening to A Splendid Table on NPR while driving between farm and farmers market a couple of Saturdays ago and heard Mario Batali expounding on gelato made from really, really ripe fruit. This was for me, so I thought, given the really, really ripe plums on my table that were going to be a fruit fly feast if not used up. That was, until I realized the amount of eggs that would be included in such an affair. I was going along with it for a while, since the concoction used milk instead of cream. Full stop. Fast left, back to the old sorbet technique for us.

I had in mind a fruitful bold expression, and once the creamy egg-loaded gelato was off the table, I turned to spices, in this case ginger and cardamom.  I’m always mindful of the icy factor in sorbets, but plums have a pretty good consistency by themselves. Our plums were so ripe as to be watery so I had to compensate. The trick was simple syrup (water and sugar in equal amounts) steeped with fresh ginger and a pod’s worth of black cardamom seeds. 

The combination of the deep flavored plums and the perky, even challenging depth of the spices made for a great sorbet, another keeper of a recipe. 

Plum Sorbet with Ginger and Cardamom

1 qt red plums

½ c water

½ c sugar

3 quarter-sized slices of ginger

1pod green cardamom, black seeds removed and lightly crushed

Clean the plums and set aside.

Make the spiced simple syrup by combining the rest of the ingredients in a saucepan. Bring to a boil and then simmer for 5 minutes. Cool. Remove the cardamom seeds.

Pit the plums, remove the flesh and place the flesh into a food processor.

Pour the syrup into the food processor with the plums and pulse until smooth. Refrigerate until thoroughly chilled and process in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s suggestions. Makes about 1 quart.

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Okra and Pork Stew

Okra at our CSA is in overdrive. We are harvesting one, two, and now even four quarts per week. While I’ve already pickled some, the rest has been cooked six ways to Sunday, as I posted last year: steamed, stewed, frittered and fried, not to mention gumbo.

Mark Bittmann of the New York Times recently wrote about an okra stew, which really was a pork stew in disguise. He claimed his okra “went away” in the process. While the recipe ingredients were generally to my liking, I played around a bit with the dish, using both okra and tomatoes in their fresh state. The fact that Bittman thought that frozen okra was fine and used canned tomatoes probably accounted for our different textural results.

 

While I am not a big fan of frozen vegetables (despite having grown up freezing bushels of produce from our garden), I do freeze soups, stews, chili, lasagna and other prepared foods, which can be defrosted easily for busy midweek meals. This one is a winner. I’ve made it twice this week, first to try it and second to accommodate our New York evacuees fleeing the hurricane.  And I hope to have some left over to freeze for a last-minute midweek supper this fall.

Okra and Pork Stew adapted from Mark Bittmann, NYT

2 tbsp olive oil

1 lb pork stew meat or meaty spare ribs, with or without the bones

2 small West Indian dried chili peppers

3 slices thick bacon, in 1-inch pieces

¼ c smoked ham in ¼-inch cubes

1 large onion, chopped

2 stalks of celery, chopped

2 medium carrots, chopped

½ green pepper, chopped

2 large cloves garlic, chopped

½ c dry white wine

Heaping quart of okra (about 1-1¼ lb), trimmed and cut into ¼-inch slices

5 medium-large tomatoes, chopped (2-3 c)

Salt and pepper

Optional: kernels from 2 cobs of corn

Optional: splash of cider vinegar

Herb garnish: cilantro or parsley, scallions

Heat the olive oil over medium-high heat in a Dutch oven. Add the pork and the chili pepper and brown the pork on all sides, removing it to a bowl. Add the bacon and ham to the pot and cook over medium heat until the bacon has rendered its fat and is starting to brown. Add the onion, celery, carrots and green pepper and stir to combine. Cook until the vegetables are tender and the bacon is brown. Add the garlic and cook until the garlic becomes aromatic. Add the white wine and cook for a minute or two. Add the okra and tomatoes and stir to combine. Add salt and pepper. Return the pork to the mixture and place in a 250-degree oven to cook for two hours, stirring occasionally.

The dish can be cooked to this point and cooled, kept refrigerated for a couple of days.

When ready to serve, heat the stew and add the corn kernels if using. Cook until the corn is tender, about 5 minutes. Taste for seasoning and add salt and pepper and a splash of vinegar if desired. Serve over rice or as is.

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Here are three of the many ways we’ve been enjoying beans over the last couple of weeks since they arrived in full force: tossed deliciously with dill pesto, combined simply with raw tomatoes and basil, and served lavishly with feta cheese, toasted walnuts, olive oil and mint. No recipes required, though I explain dill pesto at the bottom of the post.

 Luckily I held off planting green beans in my own garden since our CSA is bursting out all over, with quotas of 2-4 quarts that we pick each week. No exotic varieties, these are serious, down-to-green-earth BEANS, picked at 6-8 inches long, so a quart makes quite a few servings. I pickled a bunch of dill-flavored beans for the pantry, but the rest has been the basis of many flavorful summer salads. I say salad because of the veggie content and the fact that I served them at room temperature, but these have actually been main courses served alongside fresh corn and tomatoes.

 After topping and tailing the beans (nipping off both ends), I cooked them in large quantities of boiling water for just a few minutes, long enough to become tender but not so long as to become waterlogged. While it was once fashionable to cook green beans for a nouvelle-cuisine-minute just until they squeaked, the (old) truth is that they are best when cooked until tender, which allows their flavor to develop. I’m still puzzling over what I once thought was “de rigueur” to serve them only half raw. They benefit greatly from a pinch of salt and a drizzle of olive oil immediately after draining, which allows those flavors to infuse the beans.

Dill Pesto

Dill pesto is made in a similar manner to basil pesto: chop (in a food processor) dill fronds with a tiny bit of garlic (optional), a healthy pinch of salt, pine nuts or walnuts,  and a little olive oil. To retain bright green color, toss the pesto into cool beans.

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Foraging the breezy fields for that lacy white flower known as Queen Anne’s Lace, also known as wild carrot, yielded a few jars of pale pink, aromatic and delicious jelly. Pretty and magical. As with the violets and dandelions that I turned into royal fare in the spring, the best time to pick the flowers is in the morning, when they are most aromatic and before the natural oils evaporate (if that’s the right term). This is also true when picking herbs like mint, basil and lemon verbena for making jelly. Taste and smell are so closely related that these delicate concoctions need to capture the maximum flavor. These flower jellies are remarkably less subtle than I would have thought, in either color or taste.

The technique is simple and yields jelly in no time. The flowers are trimmed away from the dropping green bract and steeped in boiling water for 10-15 minutes to extract the flavor. The resulting water is grayish pink. Adding sugar in the ratio of ¾ cup of sugar to every cup of water and a tablespoonful of lemon juice, the mixture is brought to a boil on top of the stove. I add ½ tsp good quality powdered pectin (one of the few recipes where I use it since I prefer to develop it from the ingredients and method) and continue boiling to the gel point, about 10. Ladle into jars and seal. Either process it in a water bath canner or refrigerate it.

Queen Anne’s Lace Jelly

2 c Queen Anne’s lace flowers (see below)

Boiling water to cover (about 2 c)

Sugar (75% of volume of water, about 1 ½ c)

1 tbsp lemon juice

½ tsp powdered pectin (Pomona, Sure-Jell)

If you’re planning on processing the jelly for long term storage, prepare jars and kettle for water bath canning.

Cut the flowers from the bracts and shorten the stems, yielding 2 cups. Rinse them to make sure there are no critters around (ants love these sweet flowers). Pour boiling water over the flowers just to cover (about 2 c). Let steep for 15 minutes. Drain off the liquid, discarding the flowers. Measure the liquid and add ¾ of that amount of sugar (3/4 c sugar to 1 c water). Add 1 tbsp lemon juice.

Place a saucer in the freezer to test the gel. Bring the mixture to a boil in a wide saucepan and add ½ tsp of powdered pectin. Boil until a drop placed on the frozen saucer is wrinkly to the touch, about 10 minutes.

Ladle into hot jars and either store them in the refrigerator after they’ve cooled or process in a water bath canner for 10 minutes. Turn off the heat, remove the lid and let sit for 5 minutes before removing to a counter to sit undisturbed until cool.

Makes 3 four-ounce jars plus extra for tasting.

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I like playing with words as much as I like playing with food. So it struck a chord when Paper Chef suggested that a fourth ingredient for this month’s challenge — joining lamb, goat cheese and flour — would be an “A” word that evokes August. I immediately started a list: amaranth, angelica and arugula (all currently in my garden), apple, apricot and aubergine (in season here in August), and anise, artichoke, asparagus and avocado (available but from somewhere else).

 In the same way that a single word acquires meaning in the context of a sentence or paragraph or a whole story, a single ingredient becomes transformed into something greater within a dish or a meal. That transformation – whether in words or in food – is an inherently cultural act. Some people regard basic foodstuffs, especially vegetables and fruits, as nature. To me, any food is culture, as is the combination of words to make literature. We take conscious actions regarding what we eat: whether we forage it from the woods, fish it from the sea, grow it in our gardens, cook it in combinations, serve it to others, consume it ourselves. So as close as we can get to the source, the more we can exercise our own values and not someone else’s, hence our (at least my) preference for less processed, more local ingredients. 

Food is a great means of communication and connection within our own society and among cultures. The association of Paper Chef’s three chosen ingredients with the idea of a fourth sent me down a particular path. Lamb and goat cheese (though sheep would be more in line with the flock) pair well with aubergines, known here as eggplants, a combination that suggests the cooking of the eastern and southern Mediterranean and the Middle East. The week that Paper Chef #60 was announced, I had already prepared baked eggplant halves stuffed with a tomato and lamb sauce and topped with feta. I also canned an amazing batch of apricot jam from just-picked fruit and had some left over, so I decided that apricots would become the A for August.

 In preparing this meal, I thought of the Berbers, nomads who carried metal pans that they could heat over fires to make flatbread, the many regional traditions of cooked lamb, sweet-sour pomegranate molasses that I’ve been favoring lately, and serving fruits with meat. Mine are not authentic recipes (in other words, I did not learn them from people of the region who’ve been doing this for generations) but I thought that they worked in combination and were reasonably close to tradition, at least within my context.  

I served lamb meatballs flavored with cumin, Aleppo pepper (Yay A) and mint on flatbread that was coated with yogurt-tahini sauce and caramelized onions, and topped with a relish of red pepper and pomegranate molasses (a simplification of a traditional muhammara, which I thought would be too rich). The side dish was composed of pan-grilled apricots with goat cheese and pistachios served on top of chopped mint and arugula (another A word). Delicious.

Lamb Kofte (Meatballs)

1 lb ground lamb

1 medium slice of white bread, crust removed

1-2 tbsp milk or yogurt

1 tbsp grated onion

1 tsp crushed garlic

½-1 tsp ground cumin

½-1 tsp Aleppo pepper

1 tbsp chopped mint

Salt

Flour

Vegetable oil

Crumble the lamb lightly in a mixing bowl. Break the bread into small pieces and soak it in milk or yogurt until soft. Squeeze out excess moisture and add to the lamb. Add the onion, garlic, cumin, pepper, mint and salt, combining thoroughly but lightly. Form the meatballs into ovals about 1 x 1 ½ inches and set aside for a few minutes (in the refrigerator if longer) to set.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Dredge the meatballs in flour, shaking off the excess. Brown them in batches in vegetable oil for a few minutes, using medium-high heat, transferring them to a baking sheet as you go. Finish cooking them in the oven for about 10 minutes.

Yogurt Tahini Sauce

1 c plain yogurt (whole milk or low-fat)

2 tbsp tahini

Squeeze of lemon

Pinch of salt

Pinch (or more to taste) Aleppo pepper or cayenne

Pinch (or more to taste) ground cumin

Combine all ingredients, stirring to create a smooth sauce. Set aside for a few minutes to allow the flavors to meld.

Caramelized Onions

1 medium onion per serving

Vegetable oil

Sugar

Slice the onion in half through the stem end and then cut it horizontally into ½-inch slices. Saute it slowly in vegetable oil for about 15 minutes until it turns light brown. Add the sugar and continue to cook for another 5-10 minutes until dark and aromatic.

Red Pepper and Pomegranate Molasses Relish

1 medium red bell pepper

1-2 tbsp water

2 tbsp pomegranate molasses

Char the red pepper over a gas flame until blackened on all sides. Transfer it to a paper bag or covered bowl to steam for a few minutes. Remove the blackened flesh. Do not rinse. Chop into ¼-inch pieces. Place the chopped peppers in a small saucepan and add a tablespoonful of water and heat the pepper to cook it. Stir in the pomegranate molasses and cook the mixture until thick.

Grilled Apricots with Goat Cheese and Pistachios on Greens and Mint

1 ½ – 2 apricots per serving

Vegetable oil

Goat cheese

Pistachios (or walnuts) shelled and chopped

Arugula and mint leaves

Optional: olive oil, lemon juice, honey

Cut the apricots in half along the seam line (pole to pole). Place them cut side down in a hot frying pan with vegetable oil. Cook for a minute or less and remove to a plate. After the fruit is cool, add a small spoonful of goat cheese to the center, sprinkle chopped nuts on top and serve over mixed arugula and mint leaves. The greens can be dressed with a lemon vinaigrette, but I personally thought they were fine with just the juices coming from the apricots.

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The seasons for local summer fruit where I live are so fleeting that one could miss them within a couple of days. Cherries and apricots are often gone within a week’s time. Because local blueberries are so prevalent, it’s easy to become complacent, thinking they’ll be there to pick – or buy at the farmers market – throughout the summer. Not so. With local blueberries waning, it was time to put some up for the winter. Inspired by the delicious blueberry and basil sorbet of a few weeks ago, I decided to make a jam with similar ingredients, substituting aromatic lemon basil for the Genovese basil. I think lemon and blueberries have an affinity for each other. In another version, I might also add lemon zest and more lemon juice, both of which would help the jam to gel.

 Blueberry Jam with Lemon Basil

4 c blueberries

1 c sugar

Juice of 1 lemon (2 tbsp)

½ c leaves of lemon basil

Combine the blueberries, sugar and lemon juice in a bowl. Tie the lemon basil leaves in a small muslin sack and sink it in the middle of the berries. Let macerate for 2 hours or as long as overnight.

Prepare jars for water bath canning. Place a saucer in the freezer for testing the gel.

Bring the fruit mixture to a boil, skimming off the foam (you can add a dab of butter to control the foam.) This will gel in about 10 minutes.

Ladle into hot jars and process in a water bath canner for 10 minutes. Turn off the heat, remove the lid and let sit for 5 minutes before removing to a counter to sit undisturbed until cool.

Makes 4 four-ounce jars plus extra for tasting.

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August brings not only tomatoes but also a bumper crop of eggplant, not to mention a hankering for tangy food that offsets the heat of the so-called “dog days” of summer. This characterization of our weather is not a pejorative statement about one of our favorite animals, but rather a reflection of the ascendance of the Dog Star Sirius. Because of its brightness, it was associated since ancient times with the heat of the sun and bringing that hot weather to earth.  I think it’s ironic that two of the vegetables/fruits most associated with this sunny and sultry season are part of the nightshade family, which characteristically grows in the dark. (Thus never put your tomatoes in a sunny window to ripen; they’re better off in a shaded spot.)

This is a recipe that’s been repeated in a couple of versions in Martha Rose Shulman’s “Recipes for Health” column.  The combination is pretty common in Eastern Mediterranean cuisine (such as Lebanese food) and I changed Shulman’s methodology a bit. However, I was glad to reacquaint myself with sweet and sour pomegranate molasses and to further my pledge to clean out my pantry of miscellaneous ingredients before the fall, when I can restock afresh.

Eggplant and Chickpea Stew with Pomegranate Molasses after Martha Rose Shulman, NYT

1 medium-large eggplant

Salt

Olive oil

1 small onion, diced

1 clove garlic, minced

4 tomatoes, chopped  (peeling and seeding optional)

1 c cooked chickpeas (or 1 14-oz can)

2 tbsp pomegranate molasses

Black pepper

Mint and parsley

Slice the eggplant into ½-inch thick pieces and quarter them. Sprinkle with salt and let drain in a colander for 10 minutes.

Heat the oven to 400 degrees.

Dry the eggplant pieces, brush them lightly with olive oil and bake them in the oven, turning part way through, until lightly browned and tender, about 10-12 minutes. Set aside to cool, covered so that they stay moist.

Meanwhile, sauté the onion and garlic in olive oil to soften, add the tomatoes and bring to a boil. Boil for a minute or two to let the tomatoes release their juice, reduce to a simmer and cook for 10 minutes. Add the eggplant, the chickpeas and the pomegranate molasses. Cook for 20 minutes until thick.  The eggplant will have nearly dissolved. Adjust the seasonings, adding a little freshly ground black pepper. Fold in parsley and mint and let them absorb into the mixture. Serve hot or warm as a side dish or an appetizer.  I served this as a main dish with quinoa.

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