FOOD ON THE FOOD

Fungus Among Us

It has begun.  My mushroom-growing experiment, that is.  Do you have any idea how fascinating fungus is?  Do you?  I don’t think you do.  Sometime, I’ll have to devote an entire post to the wonder that is the earth’s natural recycling process, as it will just about blow your mind, but right now I have to unburden myself of the pile of neglected posts accumulating on my desktop before they start self-composting.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a sucky gardener.  However, growing mushrooms is the opposite of gardening, and so I’m optimistic that I’ll have tremendous success.  If I’ve learned anything from my past failures, it’s this: diversify.  That way, you can have double (even triple!) the fun, while containing your losses somewhat.  So I’m trying three different strategies in the hopes that one of these will actually grow:

1.  Oyster mushrooms in used coffee grounds;

2.  Shiitakes out of felled logs; and

3.  Morels in my former garden spot with plenty of fireplace and BBQ ash.

Of the three, the third one is absolutely doomed to fail.  Everyone (apparently) knows that morels are impossible to grow and, yet, you can always count on someone like me plopping down a hard-earned twenty to test the odds.  But somebody eventually wins the lottery, right?  You just have to be foolish enough to play.

The oyster mushrooms have the best chance of working.  Why?  Because the patch I bought, which is basically a block of established oyster mushroom spawn in packed sawdust, was already producing mushrooms right inside the package it came in.  I ordered it from Fungi Perfecti, the company run by mushroom guru Paul Stamets who wrote that book I mentioned.  Basically, I just went to the children’s section of his site and bought whatever mushrooms were deemed easy enough for kids to grow.  Because that’s about the level of expertise I bring to the table.  I also got a Mushrooms of the World coloring book.  For myself.  

Here’s what I did to prepare the growing medium for my oyster mushrooms.  Dug a 5-gallon bucket out of the basement and washed it out.  Drilled five or six holes in the bottom.  Ripped up some old pizza boxes and soaked the cardboard in a sink full of water.  Placed the soggy cardboard in the bottom of the bucket.  Dumped Husband’s accumulated coffee grounds on top.  Realized I would need a LOT more than that.  Begged my neighbors for their coffee grounds.  Got a little bit more.  Realized I would have to take drastic action if I hoped to fill up the bucket by spring’s end.  Went to a local coffee shop and asked if they would dump their coffee grounds into my bucket.  They agreed.  (Thanks to Café on the Common on the corner of Main St. and Moody St. in Waltham).  It took about two days to get enough.

Worried that the coffee filters would degrade at a different rate than the grounds, I pulled them out and composted them separately.  I poured water onto the grounds and drained off the excess.  Then, I opened the oyster mushroom spawn.

See?  Mushrooms already.  They look leggy because they had no access to light in the box they came in.  The instructions said to cut off these mushrooms before proceeding.  Then, I broke up the spawn with my hands and mixed it into the coffee grounds, like so.

Now the mushrooms have all kinds of new material to decompose.  Then you compress the whole thing, mist it twice a day with a water sprayer, cover with the humidity tent it came with, and store it outside somewhere with indirect light. 

And now we wait.  It should take about two or three weeks for mushrooms to appear.  Let the betting pool begin.

Next up, shiitakes.  The logs should be ready for action in just a few weeks.

How2Choke

There’s a Web site out of Cambridge called How2Heroes that films fun, educational videos of local people demonstrating their food-related crafts.  You can watch Joanne Chang of Flour Bakery make her famous sticky buns, and learn about cheese-making from the farmers at Shy Brothers Farm in Westport.  They even have regular folks like you and me cooking stuff.  It’s worth checking out if there’s a topic or technique you’d like to learn more about, like maple sugaring, and you’re sick of the annoying personalities on the telly.

They contacted me a few months back about doing a video for one of my recipes.  I came up with what I thought was a very convincing string of excuses for why I didn’t think that would be possible.  That I would be washing my hair that particular day.  That I would be brushing it the next.  That I would be attempting to style it for the next three days in a row and, no, the following week I would have to start the process all over again.  But they were remarkably persistent, and so it would seem that my remaining cat fell gravely ill.  Then family members started dropping like flies.  Some more than once.  At least one was brought to the brink of death but then experienced a miraculous recovery, only to have a fluke household accident finish them off 36 hours later.  It was very hard to keep all the stories straight, frankly.

Finally, orphaned and petless, I had a Wednesday free to do a video on how to make a very simple maple ice cream.  You can watch it here, if you’re brave enough.  Brave because you’ll notice that I drew upon my trademark ultra-relaxed, super-confident, breezy personal style that puts everyone at ease.  Don’t smile, Tammy.  We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.

Given that the guys manning the cameras were as nice as could be, I can only surmise that the reason for my deer-in-headlights demeanor was that there was a second whisk that was lodged somewhere.  Somewhere unspeakable.  And every time I so much as hinted at letting my guard down, someone would come up behind me with a croquet mallet and take hard aim.  And now that you have that image in your head, this should be a hell of a lot more entertaining to watch. 

I’ll be sure to get myself good and liquored up next time.  If there is a next time.

Shear Deliciousness

A handful of spring events coming up in the next few weeks:

Drumlin Farm’s annual Woolapalooza takes place this Saturday, March 28 from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. with sheep shearing and sheepherding demonstrations, as well as a peek at the season’s new lambs.  Adults: $8 members, $10 nonmembers.  Children: $6 members, $8 nonmembers.  (Drumlin Farm, 208 South Great Rd., Lincoln, MA, 781-259-2206)

Homegrown is sponsoring a Soup Swap this Saturday, March 28 from 2 p.m. to 5 p.m. at Atwood’s Tavern in Inman Square.  Bring six 1-qt. frozen servings of your favorite soup to exchange.  Please also bring a donation to the Greater Boston Food Bank, either canned soup or cash.  (Atwood’s Tavern, 877 Cambridge St., Cambridge, MA, 617-864-2792)

If you like Indian food as much as I do, then head north to Salem’s Peabody Essex Museum for its Sensational India! festival on the weekend of April 4-5.  Award-winning writer and actress Madhur Jaffrey will be speaking and signing copies of her memoir, Climbing the Mango Trees.  Also, chef Shruti Mehta will demonstrate regional Indian cooking techniques.  Be sure to check out the music, dancing, film, paintings, and sculpture, too.  See Web site for schedule of events, which are included in the price of general admission. Adults $15, seniors $13, students $11.  Free: kids 16 and under, members, and Salem residents. (Peabody Essex Museum, 161 Essex St., Salem, MA, 978-745-9500)

Or, if you happen to be down the Cape that weekend, Truro Vineyards is reopening for the season.  They’re offering complimentary wine-tastings for all guests on April 3-5, 12 p.m. to 5 p.m.  (Truro Vineyards, Route 6A, North Truro, MA, 508-487-6200)

Spring Cleaning

I always have high aspirations for doing a thorough house cleansing and purging at this time of year, but the problem is that spring is the wrong time to do it.  Winter is the right time.  Winter, when you’re stuck in the house anyway and there’s no escaping the mushrooming filth.  Spring, on the other hand, is the time to get the hell out of the house and back into the world.  To escape said filth.  Spring is not the time to be forced into captive scullery work like a disregarded stepchild.

So, I stepped outside yesterday to breathe in the warm, fragrant spring air, and all the oxygen was sucked out of my chest by a wind so cold and bitter, I had to run back inside and cuddle up with a vacuum cleaner for warmth.  Maybe, just maybe, I thought, spring is also a time for rebirth.  A time to reinvent myself as someone who cleans the house once in a while.  Someone who takes pride in the appearance of her domicile.

Long story short, I did some spring cleaning on my blog instead.  If you put your laptop on your actual lap, your body temperature goes up by 30 degrees in five seconds flat.  Also, it has a soothing whirring sound unlike my Eureka upright. 

You may notice that there are some new links to local blogs over there on the left, some optimistically seasonal pictures on the right, and I finally fixed my FAQ page so the banner isn’t cut off halfway across (it only took two years).  I updated the questions themselves, too.  It’s not much, but it’s something.  The non-virtual dust bunnies will have to die another day. 

Bartering is Back

Here's this week's post on BlogHer:

Now that the First Lady has announced the creation of an organic vegetable garden on the White House lawn, I’m feeling empowered.  Like maybe it was my BlogHer post on the subject that may have tipped the scale in our favor.  So now I’m wondering what else we can revive, preferably a well-established idea onto which I can just piggyback at the last minute.  I know.  Bartering!

The direct exchange of goods and services for other goods and services without any money involved has been in place for a long, long time.  Since the dinosaurs, at least, like the time a Tyrannosaurus Rex reportedly bartered a delicious meal from a Stegosaurus in exchange for a swift and merciful death.  (Sorry, I’ve been playing with dinosaurs all day.)

Bartering made particularly excellent sense in the time period before currency was invented but after stealing was considered poor form:

Caveman1: What’s that?

Caveman2: A saber-toothed tiger I hunted.  You?

Caveman1: Half a mastodon.  (sigh)  Mastodon soup, mastodon stew, mastodon chowder.  I’m sooooo sick of mastodon.

Caveman2: Do you want to buy some tiger chops off of me?  

Caveman1: Only if I can sell some of this goddamned mastodon.

Caveman2: I like mastodon.

Caveman1: Okay, but I don’t have anything to give you to symbolize that I’m exchanging my mastodon for your chops.  I mean, besides the mastodon itself.  

Caveman2: Yeah, me neither.  I just have the chops.  How would we know that an actual exchange was taking place?  I mean, besides remembering what we had before.

Caveman1: There’s no way to tell.  What should we do?

Caveman2: I know.  We could just put them on either side of this rock slab and each walk to the other side and then run away with whatever's in front of us?

Caveman1: That'll never work.  We have to fight to the death.

Caveman2: (sigh) Okay, here I go again…

Once more, I apologize.  My prehistoric knowledge is limited to the Ice Age movies.

With the advent of currency, bartering fell out of favor for practical reasons.  For example, it’s hard to make change when you’re trading a mule for a bucket of eggs.  Also, coins and paper money meant that you could more easily conduct three-way, four-way, or even 16-way trades if the person who wanted to barter with you didn’t have anything you wanted (or if they had hideous taste) (or if, like me, they constantly offer poor trades).

Now that none of us has any money, bartering has gone mainstream, with sites like Craig’s List ready to set you up with someone who wants your used crap as much as you want theirs.  Bartering never really went out of style with the culinarily inclined, who might trade a jar of this for a jar of that to manage their surpluses or just to keep things interesting.  But now, with the miracle of the Internet, it’s taken on a whole new dimension.  Soup Swaps have sprung up all over the country from Seattle to Boston, where people make a batch of soup, portion it into a designated number of containers, freeze them, and then meet at a predetermined location to socialize and exchange with the other participants.  Joelen of Joelen’s Culinary Adventures hosts meal exchanges in Chicago called Brunch & Barter, where everyone meets for brunch and exchanges pre-portioned meals in much the same way.  It’s a lot like a holiday cookie swap but without the guilt and self-loathing that occurs when you go home and eat them all in one sitting.

But bartering doesn’t necessarily require that much orchestration.  It can be as simple as exchanging baked goods for fresh yogurt and raw honey from local farmers, as Kate of Living the Frugal Life demonstrates.  Or it can inspire some pretty interesting business arrangements, like the Will Work For Food Project.  The owner of a Boston-area design firm, Gates Studio, forged a relationship with several small area farms in which she offered marketing and branding services in exchange for locally grown food.  The response was overwhelming.

An economy in the toilet can mean new opportunities to get creative with your own skills and resources.  I'd like to see more of this.  Do you barter?

Dulcet Caramel, You Will Be Mine

Recently, a jar of Argentine dulce de leche caught my eye at Russo’s.  I didn’t even hesitate as I placed it lovingly in my basket.  After all, this is the time of year when I eat whatever the hell I want, from wherever I want, environment be damned.  It’s been a long winter and the summer is still achingly out of reach.  So, I figured, I could either fly the whole family down to Argentina for dessert or fly the dulce de leche up to me.  (It was a bitch of a flight, but I got the goods.)

This dulce de leche by La Salamandra, essentially caramelized whole milk, is by far the best I’ve ever had, with deep caramel tones and a full, rich mouthfeel.  Now the canned stuff will forever suck by comparison.  I spread it on crêpes for a mid-afternoon snack, then melted and poured it over ice cream for a mid-evening snack.  A banoffee pie even crossed my mind for a midnight snack, except by then I had already eaten the rest of it right out of the jar.  God, this stuff is amazing.

So, here’s a question.  Has anyone ever boiled cans of condensed milk for hours to make dulce de leche?  And did they explode?  Back in my twenties, I did this quite a few times without considering the dangers of cans under pressure.  Then I heard all of these second-hand horror stories about explosions and caramel-coated kitchens and I haven’t done it since.  Just curious what your experience has been.  David Lebovitz says you can make it in the oven without the can, which seems less controversial/exciting.  But I may never go back to cans again now that it seems like you can make better stuff with regular milk (do I hear local?), sugar, and baking soda in a pot.  Or at least the Argentines can.  As always, I will report back.  In the meantime, here’s a snack.

Crêpes with Dulce de Leche

My crappy 7-inch non-stick T-Fal from college makes awesome crêpes.  Don’t tell anyone.

2 eggs
1/3 cup flour
Pinch of salt
1 cup milk
1 Tbsp. butter
Dulce de leche

Whisk together eggs, flour, and salt in a medium bowl.  Slowly add the milk, whisking constantly, until smooth.  Strain batter into another bowl, cover, and refrigerate for 30 minutes.  The batter will seem like it's way too thin, but it's not.

Heat a 7-inch non-stick pan over medium heat until hot.  Grease pan with a little butter, then pour in ¼ cup of batter, swirling to coat the bottom of the pan evenly.  Cook 1-2 minutes, until the edges start to brown and the underside is cooked and developing toasty spots.  Flip crêpe and cook 1 minute more.  The first one always comes out like crap.  Persevere.

Transfer crêpe to plate and spread dulce de leche on half of it.  This is easier to do if the dulce de leche is room temperature.  If it’s coming from the fridge, you can nuke it slightly to loosen it up, but be careful or you’ll end up with a puddle that refuses to be wrangled.  Fold crêpe in half, then in half again, and devour.  Repeat.  Makes about 6.  (Also good with Nutella or whatever other fillings you might concoct.)

Source: Adapted from Saveur, from an article by Melissa Hamilton (I think).

Luck of the Famished

In honor of St. Paddy’s day, we were visited this morning by leprechauns.  Have a look-see:

What the hell?  What month is it again?  I just packed away my musket and everything.

We were alerted to the invasion by the 3YO, who was sitting on the potty, looking out the window and muttering happily to himself about “turkeys in the grass.”  Yeah, yeah, I said, turkeys in the grass, aliens in the sky.  Pipe down and do your business (potty training is a sore spot with me at the moment).  Then I saw that there were, in fact, turkeys out there.  Eleven of them.  Our tiny yard was filled feather to feather with wild turkeys.  With all the ruckus the kids were making in their so-called observation mode, the male puffed himself up into full tail-feather display (or it could have been my shrieking at the kids to be quiet that did it).  Then, one of the turkeys flew up into a tree, which was a very odd thing to see.  I always knew turkeys had wings, but I thought they were just ornamental.

I’m afraid there’s no pot of gold at the end of this St. Patrick’s rainbow.  But, there is a pot of soup.  Extra points if you use turkey stock.

Stracciatella (Egg Drop Soup)

Because, like so many Bostonians, my Irish is mixed with a little Italian.

6 cups chicken or turkey stock
2 cups fresh spinach or Swiss chard, washed, stemmed, roughly chopped
5 egg whites
1 Tbsp. lemon rind
1 Tbsp. grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and pepper

Bring stock to a boil and add spinach.  Lower heat and cook for 2 minutes.  Meanwhile, beat egg whites with lemon rind, cheese, salt, and pepper.  Dribble into simmering broth.  Stir gently and turn off heat.  Let sit for 5 minutes.  Stir in any additional salt and pepper it may need before serving.

Source: Adapted from Ciro’s Provincetown Kitchen by Ciro and Alethea Cozzi, one of my favorite Italian cookbooks, which I believe is out of print.

Four Stocks You Can Count On

In these troubled times, it’s hard to know the safest place to put your money.  I’ve never claimed to be any sort of financial expert, but I know where I’ll be storing my nest egg, and it ain’t under my mattress.  No, these 10 bucks are going straight into my stockpot.  That way, come June, I’ll know I have something left.  Take that, economy.

To continue our previous discussion, don’t let stock’s reputation get you down.  It just requires that you have access to a large pot, that you remain in the vicinity of your house for a few hours while it simmers away (not hard when you’re poor), and that you have some freezer space in which to store it.  Stock is a good way to clean out your crisper of limp celery, dehydrated carrots, and that leek you don’t know what to do with, as well as any onions that are starting to sprout.  I use parsley leaves often when I cook, so I save the stems for stock.  Any vegetables that are about to rot, I store in the freezer until it’s time to make stock.  Same with leftover wine, if you can imagine such a thing.  Ditto for bones, which is one of the benefits of buying local meat. 

Here’s the method for vegetable stock (broth, really), but use whatever you have on hand.  VegYear says potatoes are the secret to a great veggie stock, so I’ve learned something today.  You can then modify this basic recipe if you have access to bones.  Often you can get some for cheap or free from your local butcher or fishmonger if you ask.

Basic Technique: Vegetable Broth

3 onions (or leeks), halved (peeled or unpeeled)
2 garlic cloves, smashed (peeled or unpeeled)
2 carrots and/or parsnips in large chunks (unpeeled with tops is fine, washed would be nice)
2 celery stalks (or small celery root) in large chunks
Handful of parsley stems
Several springs of thyme
A bay leaf
A sprinkling of whole peppercorns
A cup of wine (optional)

Cover with water by several inches (vegetables will float, so use your imagination).  Bring to a boil and simmer for 30 minutes.  Let cool a bit, then strain and portion into freezable containers (or ice cube trays).

Here are some non-vegetarian stock options:

Chicken Stock
Add a meaty chicken carcass to the vegetables and add water to cover.  Simmer 2-3 hours, skimming off the foamy stuff that collects at the top.  Strain out the solids and remove the slick layer of fat from the top of the remaining stock.  Or leave it in like I do.

Beef Stock
I like to roast five pounds of beef, veal, or lamb bones for about 45 minutes in a 375ºF oven first to get those deep, meaty, caramelized flavors going on.  Then they go into the pot with the vegetables.  Simmer for 3-4 hours, skimming the foam off every so often.  Remove the fat if you like (this is easier to do when it’s been in the freezer for an hour or two, as it helpfully congeals).

Fish Stock
Fish heads or racks (meaning skeletons, not breasts) from white fish like haddock are ideal.  Oilier fish like salmon I’ve heard don’t make good stock.  You’re supposed to remove the eyes, which cloud up the stock, but I just leave them alone (somehow, gouging them out seems grosser than cooking them).  I like to use fennel fronds in place of carrots, but that’s just me.  Simmer for 30 minutes, skimming occasionally.

Now that you’ve invested in delicious stocks, how do you know when it’s time to cash out?  I find chicken and vegetable stocks to be the most versatile with a subtle flavor good for most soups or sauces.  I like them in risotto and polenta, too.  You can even use them to braise tougher greens like collards and kale.  Beef stock has a more assertive flavor, good for heartier soups and stews.  I use fish stock whenever a recipe calls for clam juice in chowder or any fish-based soup, and you could also use it to poach seafood.  Just remember to add salt whenever you cook with homemade stock.  You’ll need a fair amount, but it will be nowhere near what you get with bouillon cubes.

So, who’s with me?  Let’s hear it for frozen assets, the only investments you can really rely on these days.  At least until they shut off your electricity.  What else do you guys use stock for?

Stock v. Writer’s Block

Stock Novice called me out on one of my posts last week.  The one about onion soup where I was all, “Go grab yourself some homemade beef stock out of your freezer, which you surely keep jam-packed full of hand-crafted broths in well-marked, dated containers arranged alphabetically by animal.”  As if everyone pees homemade stock. 

Her question was a good one: How do you incorporate stock-making into your daily life?  I would follow that up with: And why?  And if we’re going that far, we might as well define stock, which is just broth made with bones and vegetables.  Why bones?  Because they have a lot of flavor (but you can make “stock” out of vegetables alone and nobody’s going to sue you).  I cook with stock for the same reason that I tend to favor fresh, local produce: because my cooking comes out so much better that way.  You get a high rate of return for a minimal investment, at least by my calculations.

The best time to embark on stock-making is in the fall, winter, or early spring when it’s cold and you want to be warm.  It will make your house toasty and delicious-smelling.  I make and use a lot of stock in the winter for soups, and the remainder gets put away for the summer.  Making stock is quite simple.  It is time-consuming, but the bulk of that time is completely unsupervised.  So, I might put a pot on after breakfast and let it go while I vacuum (meaning check my e-mail), clean the bathroom (meaning check Twitter), break up some squabbles (meaning yell from the other room and hope for the best), and do some laundry (meaning read blogs while actually doing laundry because I haven’t figured out how to get out of that, yet). 

In other words, if you’re at all homebody-ish and/or computer-oriented, then stock is a good way to justify your time.  Or, as a completely hypothetical example, to get out of an unwanted social engagement:

Friend: Hey, think you can help me move this weekend?

You: Didn’t you just move?

Friend: Yeah.

You: Oh, man, I totally wish I could, but I have the whole weekend blocked out to make stock.

Friend: Dude, that sounds so hard. 

You: It’s crazy hard.

Friend: Why don’t you let loose for a few hours?  Maybe grab one end of a pool table for me…

You: I can’t, man.  Fire hazard.  Talk to the stock.  When the stock’s a-rocking, don’t come a-knocking.

Tomorrow, we’ll talk about a fringe benefit of stock I like to call “edible composting,” as well as how to make four different kinds of stock.  And then, what the hell to use them for.  Perhaps I can drag this topic out for a whole year!  Stay tuned.

Taking Stock

I’m kind of burnt out, if you must know, so posting may be light this week and next.  I say “may” because as soon as I commit to taking a blog vacation, I suddenly get bombarded by inspiration in the most mundane things, and then I have to handcuff myself to the radiator so I don’t spend six hours on the computer when I’m supposed to be doing other stuff.  Stuff in the vicinity of the radiator, I guess.

Me: (in my best whine) I can’t think of anything to write about.

Me: Fine.  Don’t write then. 

Me: …

Me: That’s right, the blog is closed.  You’re cut off.

Me: Wait, no... 

Me: Don’t worry, there are plenty of other blogs for people to read.

Me: But what about all this important shit I have to write about?

Me: (sigh) Like what.

Me: Like, um…stock.  Yeah.  Somebody asked a good question about stock last week and they deserve an answer, goddamnit.

See?  Some might call it co-dependency, but I prefer to think of it as outsmarting writer’s block.  Tomorrow, we’ll see if it worked.

P is for…

For the past several weeks, the Kindergartener’s teacher has introduced a new letter of the alphabet to the class.  Friday’s letter was P.  P as in pickle, pie, pear, pomegranate.  The kids are then asked to draw something that begins with the letter P.  Here was the Kindergartener’s contribution:

Me: (uncomfortable throat clearing followed by raspy wheezing) …

Him: See, Mommy?  It’s a pan.

Oh.  Pan.  Phew.

Another Maple Post

It seems I forgot I was doing a maple post for BlogHer this week, too.  You can never have too much maple, I say.  Here's the abbreviated version (recipe links are in the original).

Sugar maples.  Who would have thought that a simple tree could provide us with one of the most amazing gifts in the whole wide world?  I mean, besides paper.  Oh, and shelter.  Shade.  Oxygen.

No, I’m talking about maple syrup.  The real stuff.  Liquid gold.

Do you ever wonder how the Native Americans figured out that if you make a hole in a tree, sap will come dripping out?  (Or are the Pilgrims going to take the credit for that, too?)  I have my own theories about this discovery and they involve spontaneous bow and arrow skirmishes between restless adolescent natives who complained that nothing exciting ever happened.  Just wait, said the tribal elders.  Excitement is on the way.  And while you’re waiting, boil that sap.

Sugaring season begins when the weather fluctuates from freezing cold at night to warmer, non-freezing temperatures during the day.  The change in pressure causes the sap to flow, usually at the end of February and often through most of the month of March.  Here in Massachusetts, the trees are already being tapped, clear sap pooling in galvanized buckets across the state.  Sap is about 2% sugar, with water comprising most of the rest of the volume.  Evaporators are often used to boil off the excess moisture.  It takes about 40 gallons of sap to make 1 gallon of syrup, which explains its price point. 

Personally, I grew up on Aunt Jemima Lite.  At some point, I graduated to Log Cabin.  Once I actually tasted real maple syrup, I found it to be too sweet.  Still, I was intrigued enough by the flavor to start mixing one part real maple syrup to one part of the fake stuff in those squeeze bottles you often see at diners.  Now I have to take it straight.  Four or five shot glasses over pancakes or sweet potatoes.  My personal goal is to try out all the different grades to see which one I like best.  It takes a while.  Those jugs last forever.

So, why would you want to switch from maple-flavored corn syrup to actual pure maple syrup that costs ten times the price during the recession?  I don’t really know how to answer that.  Like honey, maple syrup is one of the great culinary treasures of the natural world.  Sometimes you just have to treat yourself.

In Like an Onion, Out Like a Ramp?

I was all set to change the pictures over there on the right to warmer-weather food now that spring is supposedly in sight, but I decided to hold off while this Siberian cold snap is in full force.  So, soup is on the menu once again.  What can you do?  Talk to the groundhog.  At least it’s onion soup.  I’ll take a few more days of winter if I can have onion soup all week.  But then we seriously need to start warming things up around here.  Please?  Does anyone have any extra greenhouse gases stored up somewhere?  Or a few bloated cows?  Maybe we could talk.  I’ll bring soup, you bring cookies.  

Julia Child’s French Onion Soup

I used a local maple-smoked cheddar on top, but, I’ll be honest, I kinda missed the Gruyere.

4 Tbsp. butter
1 Tbsp. olive oil
8 cups thinly sliced onions (about 2½ lbs.)
½ tsp. salt
½ tsp. sugar
1 Tbsp. flour
8 cups homemade beef stock, heated
¼ cup Cognac
1 cup dry white wine
8 ½-inch-thick slices of French bread, toasted
¾ lb. Gruyere, coarsely grated

Over medium heat, melt the butter and oil in a heavy saucepan.  Stir in the onions, cover, and cook slowly until tender and translucent, 8-10 minutes.  Blend in the salt and sugar, increase heat to medium-high, and let the onions brown, stirring frequently until they are a dark walnut color, 25 to 30 minutes.

Sprinkle the flour and cook slowly, stirring, for another 3 to 4 minutes.  Remove from heat, let cool a moment, then whisk in 2 cups of hot stock.  Bring to the simmer, adding the rest of the stock, Cognac, and wine.  Cover loosely, and simmer very slowly 1½ hours, adding a little water if the liquid reduces too much.  Season with salt and pepper.

Divide the soup among 4 ovenproof bowls.  Arrange toast on top of soup and sprinkle generously with grated cheese.  Place bowls on a cookie sheet and place under a preheated broiler until cheese melts and forms a crust over the tops of the bowls.  Serve immediately.

Source: Adapted minimally from Julia Child’s The Way to Cook.

Local Food Sources:
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cheese: Grafton Village, Grafton, VT
Beef bones for stock: Southboro Belties, Southboro, MA (via Pete and Jen’s Backyard Birds, Concord, MA)
Wine: Truro Vineyards, Truro, MA
Bread: Nashoba Brook Bakery, Concord, MA (via Russo’s, Watertown, MA)

Maple Month

March is Maple Month, which means it’s time for pancakes and scones and pork chops and whatever else you might pour maple syrup on top of.  The possibilities are endless.  The taps are going all over the state, so get your asses over to a farm sometime this month and stock up.  Some maple-related events for the calendar:

If you’re up for a Sunday drive, the Hardwick Sugar Shack has an open house every Sunday in March from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m., where you can watch the syrup-making process take place from tree to table while sipping mulled maple cider.  They have horses, too, and I hear it’s pretty nice.  I’m thinking of heading out there myself.  (Hardwick Sugar Shack, 572 Jackson, Hardwick, MA, 413-477-0932)

Closer to Boston is Drumlin’s Sap to Syrup Farmer’s Breakfast on March 14 and 15 from 9 a.m. to 1 p.m.   Enjoy local sausages, potatoes, and, of course, pancakes with maple syrup made the old-fashioned way.  Cost is $14 for adults, $11 for children, kids under 3 are free.  Register soon as it tends to sell out.  (Drumlin Farm, 208 South Great Rd., Lincoln, MA, 781-259-2206)

A Long Overdue Conversation With My Dad

Even before a certain newspaper said certain things about the language on a certain blog, my dad has been chastising me for my “risqué” word choice and wayward subject matter.  Last Sunday was no different, except for the menu, which was (I’m almost ashamed to admit) bacon, cinnamon buns, hash browns, and mimosas.  It was the Lord’s day, after all.  (Apparently, the Lord doesn’t like vulgarity or vegetables.)

Me: So let me get this straight.  You’re trying to censor me?  On my own blog?

Him: I’m just saying you might want to tone it down a little.

Me: I am toning it down a little. 

Him: No, the bad language has definitely gone up over time.  If I were to go back to your earlier posts…

Me: Please don’t.

Him: …and chart a graph of profanity…

Me: A graph of profanity?

Him: …yes, a graph of profanity, I think you’d see that it has steadily gone up over the years.

Husband: It has.

Me: (to Husband) Oh, like you should talk.  (to Dad) So what?  It’s not like I’m using the f word in front of the kids.  We’re all adults on my blog.  With the possible exception of me.  I think I’m rather elegant in its usage?

Him: Elegant?

Me: Or something.

Him: Right.

Me: Maybe I like to swear.

Him: Apparently.

Me: Or maybe I’m rebelling.  You know, you did get off easy when I was a teenager.

Him: Rebelling?  What could you possibly have to rebel against?  You have the perfect father.  Modest, too.  The best kids.  The best…

Husband: …husband.

Him: …fine, the best husband.  See?  What’s to rebel against?  Everything’s coming up roses. 

Hmmmm.  That’s a toughie.  I wonder what in the fuck I could possibly be rebelling against?