FOOD ON THE FOOD

Where the Wild Things Are

Much of this glorious Memorial Day weekend was spent outside: eating ribs on the porch, sleeping in tents in the backyard, and catching frogs at Great Meadows.

I call my oldest son the frog whisperer. I mean, sure, there's a lot of commotion during the actual catching process, but then look:

The frog's just sitting on his arm. He was there for a while, too. Why isn't he jumping off? It's a wild frog!

Usually you can't get your hands on a frog, never mind ask them to pose for you. And even if you do catch one, they're slippery little guys that wiggle free and execute all of these hoppy evasive maneuvers until they're safely entrenched back in the murky shallows. I thought it was a fluke, but then it happened again later with a different frog. And here he is again with a toad:

(The amphibians couldn't stand the rest of us for even one second.)

Anyway, this post isn't about frogs and toads. It's about our other Memorial Day weekend activity: trying to rein in the wild kingdom that is our backyard. It's a jungle back there! A poison-ivy-canopied, possibly-tick-infested jungle. I'd like to say it's all under control now, but the truth is, it will never be under control, and therefore my willingness to exert myself wanes before it even waxes. As long as the boys can retrieve their wiffle balls without contracting hideous, weeping rashes, I feel my landscaping responsibilities are complete.

But there were a few pleasant surprises in the yard mixed in with the unpleasant ones:

Wild black raspberries! They're not ripe, yet, but they will be in a few weeks. What started as one cane a few years ago has turned into a veritable bramble with hundreds of potential berries. The plants are aggressive and thorny, but they're better than some of the other aggressive, thorny plants I fight with every year. The compact berries are delicious for snacking, as well as in cakes, jams, and salads. We may lose a few wiffle balls in the process, but I like to think it's worth it!

I think these are wild blackberry blossoms. I know I sampled a few blackberries one year on the steepest part of the slope, and they seem to have spread. They must like the poor soil and constant erosion we have. The problem is that they're in an inconvenient spot, so I always forget to check on them at the right time, which is later on in the summer. I'm pretty sure the birds remember, though!

My first blueberries! About eight years ago, I planted three blueberry bushes. Not once have I seen a single blueberry on any of them. I checked! Well, feast your eyes on that cluster of six berries in progress! Yeah, okay, so they're the only berries on the whole bush. So what? It's better than the other two bushes, which don't have any at all.

The long-standing principle in my yard is Survival of the Fittest/Most Delicious. Let the hardiest, tastiest plants win!!

Asparagus and Fiddlehead Soup

We've finally gotten some rain around here, and you know what that means: fiddleheads, ramps, and perhaps morels! I've seen fiddleheads and ramps at the market already. As for the mushrooms, I'm still waiting...

Fiddleheads are the coiled-up fronds of certain edible ferns. They taste like a cross between asparagus and green beans. You can use just asparagus for the soup, however, if immature fern fronds aren't your thing. For the aromatics, you have your choice of onions, leeks, or ramps. Ramps are foraged wild onions with a certain level of pungency that I enjoy. However, they were $17.98 a pound last week at Russo's, and so I will be using the 98-cents-a-pound spring onions until the price comes way down.

This soup tastes just like spring. Like a damp meadow without the mud and mosquitoes. Served warm, it takes the edge off of cooler days, and provides a sample of the warmth and greenery still to come.

Asparagus and Fiddlehead Soup

Always parboil fiddleheads before adding them to your dish to get rid of any bitter toxins.

1/4 lb. fiddleheads, soaked in two changes of cold water, drained
2 Tbsp. butter
2 medium leeks or 1 small bunch ramps or spring onions (white and light green part only), chopped
1 1/2 lb. asparagus, tough ends snapped off, remaining stalks cut into thirds
1 medium potato, peeled, cubed
5 cups veggie stock or water
1 tsp. kosher salt
Juice of 1/2 lemon
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh dill
Black pepper to taste

In a medium pot of boiling water, parboil the fiddleheads for 3 minutes. Drain and set aside.

In the same pot, melt the butter over medium low heat. Gently cook the leeks/ramps/onions, stirring frequently, until they soften but don't take on any color, about 4 minutes. Add the asparagus, fiddleheads, potatoes, stock/water, and salt. Bring to a boil over high heat, then lower heat and simmer until veggies are soft, 10-15 minutes. Set aside some fiddleheads and asparagus tips for garnish. Puree the rest right in pot with a stick blender, or let it cool and pour soup into a regular blender in two batches (never process steamy liquids in a blender unless you want soup all over your kitchen walls—make sure it cools first).

Reheat soup in pot with lemon juice, dill, and salt and pepper to taste. Serve hot with a dollop of sour cream or creme fraiche, a few fiddleheads or asparagus tips, and chopped dill.

Rhode Island-Style Calamari

It occurred to me that in just a handful of years, my oldest son will be a teenager. A teenager!! This doesn't seem possible, and yet I would be lying if I said it felt like only yesterday when there was a 10-pound butterball turkey in my belly (well, 9 lbs. 12 oz. once he peed all over the OR staff). It doesn't feel like yesterday at all. But certainly not double-digit years before yesterday. Already he eats more than me and has the same size feet. I'm a little bit scared about the amount of food he's going to require once he doubles his weight and towers over me like his dad—and his little brother isn't far behind. I'll be cooking morning, noon, and night!

Nevertheless, my oldest is a joy to cook for because he likes so many of the same things I like, doesn't mind a little spice, and will eat any kind of seafood you throw at him. He particularly loves the Rhode Island-style calamari at the Chateau in Waltham. "Rhode Island-style" means the crispy fried rings and tentacles are tossed with thin loops of pickled hot peppers. The combination is utterly addictive. I knew it couldn't be that hard to make at home, and I planned to wing it using a jar of pepperoncini and some cherry-red peppadew peppers I had in the fridge. Then I found a Jasper White recipe from The Summer Shack Cookbook that tossed the whole shebang with garlic butter, and I couldn't find a single thing wrong with that.

According to White, Rhode Island has the largest squid-fishing fleet on the East Coast. You'll start to see local squid from Rhode Island in the spring, throughout the summer, and into the fall. I request half bodies and half tentacles because I love the fried tentacles best (more surface area for the crispy batter!). Banana peppers are traditional, but use whatever pickled hot peppers you desire. This was a hit with the whole family. Sure, the little one picked out the hot peppers—more for us. At this rate, the kids won't be getting any smaller, but I guess that's the whole idea behind this parenting thing.

Rhode Island-Style Calamari

The real trick is not to cook them too long or they will turn out as rubbery as a bicycle tire. A minute or less is all I needed. Cook a few and test for tenderness before proceeding with the rest. The original recipe doubled the garlic butter (which you may feel free to revert to), but I think it's plenty flavorful with half.

1 lb. cleaned medium squid (bodies and tentacles)
3/4 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup cornmeal
2 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. ground black pepper
1/8 tsp. ground cayenne pepper (or 1 tsp. paprika)
Canola or peanut oil for deep-frying (about 6 cups)
1 cup buttermilk
2 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1/2 cup sliced pickled peppers (like banana peppers, pepperoncini, or peppadew), drained

Cut the squid bodies into rings. Leave the tentacles whole unless they look ridiculously large. In a medium shallow bowl, combine the cornstarch, flour, cornmeal, salt, pepper, and cayenne/paprika. Pour buttermilk into another bowl. Line a rimmed sheet pan with paper towels.

Heat a heavy, medium, high-sided saucepan with 3 inches of oil until it reaches 375°F on a candy thermometer. Meanwhile, soak a few rings and tentacles in the buttermilk. With a slotted spoon, transfer to flour mixture and toss to coat. Scoop back up with the slotted spoon, shake off excess batter, and drop gently into hot oil. Cook 30 seconds to 1 minute until batter is golden but calamari is still tender. Transfer to paper towels to drain and sprinkle with salt while still hot. Repeat with remaining calamari in 4-5 batches. If the oil drops below 350°F, let it heat up again between batches. Transfer fried squid to serving platter.

In a small frying pan, melt the butter. Add the chopped garlic and sauté just until golden, 1-2 minutes. Add the sliced hot peppers and toss to coat. Drizzle calamari with garlic butter and peppers. Serve immediately with marinara sauce on the side if you like.

Source: Adapted from The Summer Shack Cookbook by Jasper White.

Support Waltham Fields Community Farm!

It's that time of year when Waltham Fields Community Farm holds its annual fundraiser to continue its great work getting healthy food into the hands of the people, including the public schools and lower income folks. These gals (and guys) are super awesome, mightily strong, AND they put on a great party.

Come to Sprout at the Charles River Museum of Industry on Saturday, April 14 from 5:30-8:30 p.m. to enjoy great food, beer and wine, live music, and a fabulous silent auction. There's lots of cool stuff to bid on, including sought-after CSA shares at area farms; Red Sox tickets; gift certificates to local restaurants like Craigie on Main, Island Creek Oyster Bar, and 80 Thoreau; Cuisine En Locale's ONCE events; hotel stays in Boston, NYC, and Sonoma; quilts and pottery; even a handmade cigar-box ukelele. As usual, I will be donating a carrot cake. Bidding is likely to be fierce since Husband is joining me at the auction this year, and he loves that carrot cake beyond all reason. (Dude, I can make you one at home for free, stop jacking up the price! ...On second thought, keep jacking up the price!)

Food will be prepared by Newbury College culinary students, which, if last year was any indication, promises to be really delicious. Tickets are $45 for members, $50 for nonmembers, $30 for any third, fourth, or fifth wheels you might bring along (must be over 21). To purchase tickets, go here. For more information, go here.

Can't come to the party? You can still show your support for local farming through the eSprout Online Auction going on right now through Tuesday 4/10 at 11 p.m. Bid on sports, symphony, and theater tickets; getaway packages to Costa Rica, Telluride, and New Orleans; gift certificates to local restaurants like Picco and Posto; and a session with tattoo artist Erik Reith. It's like eBay for a good cause. Have at it!

New England Lobster Roll

And while we're talking about summer food, how about a lobster roll?

February has arrived and, even though it's been a relatively tame winter, I'm still sick of squash. I don't care what any groundhogs have to say about six more weeks of winter: I want it to be summer in my mouth, and if I have to spend my entire book advance on lobsters to make that happen, then so be it. Incidentally, I think we need to find a more translucent animal than a groundhog to make these kinds of shadow-based weather predictions. Like a jellyfish. Or something nocturnal like a bat. It's hard to see your own shadow in complete darkness. Are there any cute but completely blind animals?

Awkward segue back to lobsters: This is a very basic but totally delicious lobster roll technique. The idea is to let the lobster shine. The scallions and celery are barely there for a little color and crunch, not to compete with the lobster. There's just one thing I insist upon. Toast the buns. Toast them, people. It makes all the difference in the world.

Classic New England Lobster Roll

Serve with a green salad or not.

2 1-1/2-lb. lobsters, steamed (instructions here), cooled
2-4 Tbsp. mayo
1-2 scallions, chopped
2-inch piece of celery, finely chopped
1/4 tsp. salt (or to taste)
Squeeze of lemon juice
Pinch ground cayenne pepper
New England-style hot dog rolls (the ones that top-load and have flat sides for toasting)
Butter

Remove tail and claw meat (including the delicious arms!). Chop lobster meat into bite-sized chunks. Mix with mayo, scallions, celery, salt, lemon juice, and cayenne. Refrigerate until cold.

When ready to serve, heat skillet over medium heat. Butter the pan and the sides of the rolls (I do this by rubbing the stick of butter over the hot skillet, then rubbing the melty stick all over the sides of the roll, repeating until roll is sufficiently buttery). Toast buns several minutes on each side until golden. Let cool a few minutes, then stuff with dressed lobster. Serves 3-4.

Local Sources:
Lobsters: Rockport lobsterman via Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA

Tuesday Tease: Ice Cream

I'm working on quite a few ice cream recipes for my book. Why ice cream for a winter dessert cookbook? Because, as reader Sara says, ice cream knows no season. In fact, it's the dessert of choice in our house year-round. We own an ice cream machine and actually use it. I love to churn up a fresh batch of ice cream made with local milk and cream knowing it's free from the dubious effects of rBGH and antibiotic residues. The results are excellent.

If your ice cream machine is currently hibernating, I daresay you will soon be putting it to good use!

Cracking the Recipe: Lobster Bisque

Our New Year's Eve dinner, hosted by friends E and J, was possibly one of the best meals of the year. Kir royales. Radishes with cultured butter and sea salt. Lobster bisque. Pan-roasted duck with thyme-infused honey sauce. Roasted root veggies and a green salad. Lemon cream tart for dessert. Truly delicious!

I brought the lobster bisque. Since a few of you requested the recipe during my guilt-ridden lobster confessional, I thought I'd share. It's good timing, too, because my CSF (community supported fishery) is once again offering lobsters for sale. Every once in a while, Cape Ann Fresh Catch offers a special item not usually found in our fish shares. They call it "Neptune's Share" as it is priced separately and based on availability and nature's whims. That meant mussels last summer and lobsters this winter. You know I can't pass up these opportunities. (To get your own self some lobsters, go here.)

The recipe below is based on the lobster bisque from the Brewster Fish House, one of our favorite restaurants on Cape Cod. Instead of pureeing the lobster into oblivion (which is also good!), they suspend chunks of lobster in the silky soup. It's sweet and spicy, and I've wanted to learn how to make it for years. However, I'm not going to ask them for their recipe. They're not going to give it to me, and why should they? Just because I like it? Everybody likes it! I figure, if I want it that badly, I should try to figure it out myself. And guess what? I'm really happy with the way it came out! I mean, we're not giving up our yearly summertime visits to the Brewster Fish House anytime soon. Don't be ridiculous.  But this is deliciously, tantalizingly close!

Lobster Bisque

This is not a quick recipe by any means, but if you're going to slap down the money for lobsters, you might as well put some effort into it! You will need lobster crackers, some patience, and several hours to spare. I sometimes boil the lobsters the night before, letting them cool in the refrigerator until morning.

2 live 1-1/2-lb. lobsters
1 Tbsp. kosher salt, plus 1 tsp.
1 Tbsp. white vinegar
4 Tbsp. unsalted butter
2 onions, chopped
1 celery rib, chopped
1 Tbsp. flour
4 cups lobster stock
1 cup heavy cream
2 Tbsp. brandy
1/4 tsp. cayenne
White or black pepper to taste

Bring a large stockpot with a half-inch of water, 1 Tbsp. kosher salt, and the vinegar to a boil. Drop in the lobsters, close the lid, and steam 20 minutes until done. How do you know if they're done? Set a lobster on its back and stretch out the tail. It should snap back against its belly convincingly. Remove from pot and let cool until shells can be handled easily.

Over a large bowl, separate tails, claws, and arms from bodies of the lobsters. They should pull apart easily. To remove the meat from the tails, use kitchen shears or a sharp knife to cut straight down the middle of the underside of the tail. Pull back on sides of tail to separate the shell and remove meat. Dice tail meat finely as it can be chewy in larger pieces. Remove meat from arms and claws using a lobster cracker to crush the shells so you can extract the meat. Careful: shells can be jagged, pointy, and sharp. Cut claw meat into larger, bite-sized pieces. Place all the lobster meat in a small bowl, cover, and refrigerate.

Meanwhile, preheat the oven to 450°F, and set the bodies and empty shells on a rimmed sheet pan. Bake shells 20 minutes until toasty and fragrant. Transfer shells to a large pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil, skim the foam from the top, and simmer 30 minutes. You can get fancy with the stock (bouquet garni and such), but I did not. Strain out and discard the shells, reserving the liquid. You will need about 4 cups of stock. Freeze the rest for future bisques or lobster risotto!

Make sure the stock is still steamy when you start the soup. If not, reheat in a small pot. Melt the butter in a medium heavy-bottomed pot over low heat. Add the onions and celery, and slowly sweat the vegetables until soft, stirring occasionally, about 5 minutes. Do not let brown. Add flour and cook, stirring constantly, for 1 minute.  Add heated lobster stock slowly while stirring. Bring to a boil and simmer 5 minutes. Let cool completely. In four batches, puree the soup in a blender or food processor. Yes, I know we haven't added the lobster, yet. Patience! Also, make sure the soup is cool and that you don't fill the blender more than halfway or you will spray hot soup all over your kitchen. You want cool soup, small amounts of liquid in the blender, and a dishtowel placed over the top of the blender lid just in case. Pour batches of pureed soup into a bowl as you go.

When ready to serve, add the pureed soup back into the pot. Add in the lobster meat, cream, brandy, 1 tsp. salt (or to taste), pepper, and cayenne. Gently heat the soup until hot and steamy. Do not boil. After all this, you don't want to risk curdling the cream. Keep an eye on it. Serve hot in small shallow bowls.

Local Sources:
Lobsters: Cape Ann Fresh Catch, Gloucester, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Onions: Waltham Fields Community Farms, Waltham, MA
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

2011 Holiday Raffle: The Apple Lover's Cookbook

To kick off a month of atypical non-Grinchy behavior, I will be raffling off some of my favorite books to you, my loyal readers! If you've recently arrived here after reading the Edible Boston article on local food blogs, and you aren't sure you have what it takes to be a loyal reader, I'm hoping free stuff will convince you. I have a lot to give away and there are only three weeks until Christmas or something crazy like that, so check in often if you don't want to miss your chance to win. Once the clock strikes 12 on Christmas Eve, I'm keeping whatever's left like some sort of greedy Cinderella who misses the point of Christmas entirely.

Starting us off is Yankee Magazine lifestyle editor Amy Traverso and her great new cooking tome and apple encyclopedia, The Apple Lover's Cookbook. Think apples are all the same? Oh ho ho, you are so wrong. So wrong! Let Amy show you the error of your ways with a primer of 59 apple varieties, from quirky heirlooms to newfangled hybrids. Then be grateful that she was the one that had to do all that research and not you.

Moving on to recipes, there's literally not a single dish contained in this book that I don't want to eat. Apple crisp? Don't mind if I do. Apple pie? You bet! Cider doughnuts? Hell, yeah. Apple-gingersnap ice cream? STOP TORTURING ME!!! It's not just sweet stuff, either. There are recipes for sausage, apple, and cheddar strata, sweet potato and apple latkes, and apple cider-braised turkey with applejack-sage gravy. I made the braised pork shoulder with hard cider, Calvados, and prunes a few weeks ago, and it was so good that I refused to eat anything else for a whole 18 hours so as not to taint the memory. (That's a personal record for me, by the way.)

Quite simply, this is a book everyone needs to have. I mean, unless you hate apples. Is it even possible to hate apples? I might argue you're just confused. Maybe it's scrapple you hate? Anyway, to be entered to win, simply leave a comment on this post with your favorite variety of apple and/or apple preparation, and a commenter will be selected at random by one of those Internet-based number generators. Comments will close at 10 pm EST on Monday, 12/5. And if you don't win this raffle, there's still plenty of time to put the book on your Christmas list. That's the second best way to get free stuff!

Many thanks to W.W. Norton for donating a copy of this beautiful book!

Holy Mackerel!

Look at the salad Husband made for me! It's got lettuce, spinach, cucumber, red pepper, celery, chopped almonds, cheddar shavings, and smoked mackerel. Yes, smoked mackerel from Ducktrap River in Maine. Very tasty, cheaper than smoked salmon, and lots of omega-3s. Whole Foods carries it. We also like the Memphis-style smoked bluefish from Dave's Cape Cod Smokehouse, which you can find at the Wayland Winter Farmer's Market (starting January 7, 2012). Perfect for when you don't feel like cooking.

Creamy Braised Brussels Sprouts

Want to blow somebody's mind this Thanksgiving? Serve these Brussels sprouts. Yes, Brussels sprouts. No, this isn't some kind of sick joke. They're browned, smothered in cream, then braised until silken deliciousness is achieved. Cruciferous candy. Sure, there are plenty of lower calorie ways of making Brussels sprouts, but it IS Thanksgiving after all. And today, I'm thankful for cream!

Creamy Braised Brussels Sprouts

One bite and the ThirdGrader said, Brussels sprouts aren't as evil as I thought!

3 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 lb. Brussels sprouts (2-3 stalks worth), trimmed, cut in half or quartered
1 cup cream
Salt and pepper
Juice of 1/2 lemon

Melt butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Cook sprouts until lightly browned in spots, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. Stir in cream and bring to a simmer. Cover, reduce heat to low, and cook 20-25 minutes, stirring occasionally, until sprouts are tender and cream is reduced and lightly brown. Sprinkle with lemon juice to taste, perhaps more salt and pepper, and serve.

Source: Adapted from All About Braising by Molly Stevens

Local Ingredients:
Brussels sprouts: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Philosophical Lobster

Since I was born in Maine, bred in Massachusetts, and have a lobster prominently featured on my blog's masthead, one might naturally assume that I have a side of lobster with every meal as a matter of course. In fact, I hardly ever eat lobster. They're expensive and I don't love killing them. But I do find them very succulent indeed. We're lucky that my father-in-law has a few lobster traps so we get to enjoy the occasional free lobster dinner complete with ocean view. The richness of such a meal can tide you over for quite a while. In my own house, however, I cook lobster only rarely.

Cape Ann Fresh Catch, my fish CSA, offered lobsters for sale last week for the first time. I took this as a cosmic sign that lobster should cycle onto the menu once again. I've always wanted to try to recreate the wonderful lobster bisque from Cape Cod's Brewster Fish House. It's my favorite bisque ever and is notable because the lobster is not pureed into the soup, but rather cut into pieces so you get all the flavor of a bisque with the satisfaction of little lumps of lobster meat like a chowder. It's sweet and spicy and I love it.

That's what I was daydreaming about as a Gloucester fisherman dropped a pair of lobsters into my cooler. I happily drove them home, not a care in the world, until I'm standing eye to eye with one of them, a steaming pot of water nearby. I always forget about this part. The final act. The dread starts to bubble up from the recesses of my soul. Is the feeling worse now that I've had a chance to peek into the abyss myself? Perhaps. And yet I'm committed. I can't drive them back to the beach now. Not in rush hour traffic. Nobody will survive that!

There's no girlish squealing or Woody Allen-esque pacing and bemoaning that goes on during this process, mostly because I want the deed done as quickly as possible for everyone's sake. From the dark safety of the cooler to the dark danger of the pot, I aim for 10 seconds max. I snip off the claw bands with kitchen shears while my other hand holds the carapace firmly from behind. It's clear I have a feisty one on my hands. No sooner do the rubber bands shoot across the room unleashing his weapons than he somehow gets the blades of my scissors clamped in one of his claws, tail flipping up and down madly against his chest. I admire his will to live. I'm rooting for him, and yet too much struggling just delays the inevitable. I admit to administering some soothing words, which are all but useless to a lobster and entirely for my own benefit. No, the lobster is not going to calm down, Tammy. No, everything is not going to be okay. Not for him!

As I twist the scissors free, force him down into the pot, close the lid, and repeat the process for number 2, I wonder how I went from being a nurturing maternal figure to a cold-blooded murderer in the span of five minutes? That's when I realize that, no, I've been both all along. My love of meat is well documented. I just don't like to be the one who actually has to snuff out the life force. I prefer to let other people do the snuffing. Then maybe I can pretend the snuffing never took place at all. I'm a live and let live kind of gal. Unless I'm hungry, that much is clear. Or you come knocking on my door trying to sell me your service/product/religion/political view in the middle of dinnertime. Then all bets are off. My stockpot is really big. You've been warned!

Braised Brisket

Don't mind me, I'm just playing around with my new macro lens. You can pretty much count on me getting way, way too close to my food from now on. Just a heads-up.

This here is some luscious beef brisket and root vegetables braised until melty and scrumptious. Serve with mashed potatoes or over brown rice or barley and you've got yourself a rib-sticking meal that will fuel you through any unwelcome pre-Halloween shoveling. Hope those of you who lost power have gotten it back by now!

Braised Brisket

You can also do this in a slow cooker. Follow the recipe through the garlic part, then throw it all into the crockpot for 4-6 hours on high, 8-10 hours on low.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
2-3 lb. beef brisket
1 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. ground pepper
2 onions, chopped
4 carrots, cut into 1-inch pieces
4 parsnips, cored if woody, cut into 1-inch pieces
2 small celery roots (celeriac), trimmed, cut into 1-inch pieces
4 cloves garlic, minced
1/2 cup roasted tomatoes (or chopped tomatoes, tomato sauce, or ketchup)
1/3 cup apple cider vinegar
3 Tbsp. brown sugar
1 1/2 cups stock or water

Preheat oven to 325°F. In a large Dutch oven, heat 1 Tbsp. oil over medium-high heat. Season brisket with salt and pepper and brown on all sides. Transfer to plate.

Heat remaining tablespoon of oil in pot. Add onions, carrots, parsnips, and celery root, and sauté until browned, about 5 minutes. Dump in the garlic and cook another minute. Add the tomatoes, cider vinegar, brown sugar, and stock/water, and give a good stir. Return the brisket to the pot along with any juices collecting on the plate. Liquid should come about halfway up the sides of the meat. If not, add a bit more stock or water.

Bring to a boil. Cover with foil so that it’s flat against the meat and comes all the way up the sides of the pan (you might need two sheets), and cover with lid.  Place in the oven for about 3 1/2 hours, turning meat every hour and reconfiguring foil, until meat is super-tender and vegetables are soft and melty. Serve with mashed potatoes or grain of your choice.

Local Sources:
Brisket: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Carrots, parsnips, celery root, tomatoes: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Apple cider vinegar: Carlson Orchards, Harvard, MA

How to Clean a Hen of the Woods Mushroom

This will probably be my last mushroom post until next spring, so you can all breathe a deep sigh of relief. But first I have to tell you what happened after last week's hen of the woods post. To refresh your memory, that was the post in which I was being a big baby because I was unable to successfully lay claim to my very own hen of the woods mushroom, despite having found four. (Sheesh, Tammy, ever heard of a store? Shut up, whose side are you on?)

Within the course of 24 hours, that post was forwarded by a kind reader to someone who had several suspected hens of the woods growing right in her yard. I was invited to make a house call to a neighboring town to scope out the fungal situation. This is not the first time I've gone on a mushroom-related house call. Earlier this year, I was led to a house that had literally dozens of black morels popping out of the mulch. Can you imagine that? A flower bed full of morels right out your own front door??? I was dumbstruck! I had to be slapped across the face several times before I snapped out of it.

This time, I was much more composed. Once I located the house in question, I spotted the hens roosting at the base of an oak tree—all four of them. I drove by verrrrry sloooowly with the windows down, ogling them like Lenny and Squiggy, until I crashed into some trash cans! Okay, so there weren't any trash cans, but it's my story. I'll tell it how I want. I ran out of the car, ignoring the trash cans everywhere, and ran through my hen of the woods identification check list:

Location at base of oak tree: check.

Brown, ruffly structure: check.

Pores not gills: check.

Smells right: check.

Nooooo maggots: well, just a few. It's a ground-dwelling fungus, after all. One can't expect too much.

Not only was the identity of the mushroom confirmed , but I also had permission to take some mushrooms home (hooray!!!). That was the crucial missing link. So I did—specifically, two hens growing next to each other that had become conjoined into one 4-pound mass. I didn't just rip them out of the ground; I cut them at their bases to leave the underground mycelium intact. This helps encourage future mushrooms to grow in the same area in subsequent seasons. Remember, there are no poisonous look-alikes for this mushroom (also known as maitake and grifola frondosa). That combined with its tastiness makes it a mushroom everyone should know. Many thanks to M and H for getting it into my greedy little hands!

Tell me this isn't a pretty mushroom!

But, wow, I forgot what a pain in the ass they are to clean. I brushed off as much debris as possible initially, but there are so many crevices, you could easily spend an hour or more properly preparing this mushroom for eating. Plus you have to escort out all the creepy-crawlies that were using it as a luxury condo. Worms. Spiders. CENTIPEDES!!! Boy, for someone who likes to hang around rotting stumps, I sure am afraid of centipedes. (It's their speed that gets me. Their deadly speed!)

So in case you ever find yourself in possession of a hen of the woods, here are some tips for prepping this delicacy:

• Set mushroom in a large bowl and pick off all the acorns, leaves, and twigs.

• Brush off dirt with an unused paintbrush or other kitchen-grade brush using lots of quick, brisk strokes, working from top to bottom.

• Using a sharp paring knife, cut off the dirtiest parts of the base, and move mushroom to a clean cutting board.

• Wipe off the knife and cut through the remaining base into workable sections as if you're cutting up a cauliflower through its core.

• Cut off rotten, bruised, or moldy sections, and add to the bowl. Escort worms and bugs out of the crevices with tip of knife.

• Cut into smaller pieces, 1-3 inches wide depending on your purpose. Make a point to cut into any areas with lots of crevices to evict any lurking insects. (I find the central part of the mushroom to be plenty tender in young specimens, though it may be too tough in older ones.)

• Wipe off any remaining dirt on each piece with damp paper towels. You will go through quite a few of them. (I don't soak mushrooms in water. I find that makes them slimy, waterlogged, and hardly any cleaner.)

• What you end up with is something like little mushroom florets—two big plates of them from a four-pound mushroom. Cover with damp paper towels and plastic wrap with some holes poked in it.

• It's best to cook them right away, but they will last in the fridge for several days this way (the paper towels will need remoistening).

• Always cook the mushrooms well. One way is to sauté them in butter for 15-20 minutes until tender. If the pieces start to brown before they're tender, add some water and keep cooking.

• Inevitably, a little bit of grit ends up in your dish despite your best efforts. Just add extra black pepper. Any little worms you missed will be easily identified by their coiled-up forms at the bottom of the pan. Discard them immediately and think nothing more about what you just saw. Instead, think of all the invisible cancer-fighting compounds this mushroom contains. Yum!

Since it's such a big deal to me to find these, I like to make something really special. I layer the cooked mushrooms with lasagna noodles, browned sweet Italian sausage, lots and lots of braised celery root and leeks, mozzarella and parmesan cheese, and a creamy sauce. I bake two trays and freeze one away. It's totally worth the work.

Henpecked

Does anybody know what this is?

Bet you weren't expecting a pop quiz on wild fungi first thing in the morning, but I'll make mushroom foragers out of you yet. You've seen this before on this blog. It's a hen of the woods. Not a chicken of the woods. That's different. A hen of the woods is a ruffly mass that grows at the base of oak trees. It has pores on the underside instead of gills, and has no poisonous look-alikes. It usually grows back year after year in the same place. It is also amazingly delicious and doesn't make me vomit. In other words, A-list material.

Ever since a kind stranger bestowed upon me a hen of the woods last year (when I made that amazing celery root and wild mushroom lasagna), I've been trying to find one of my very own. I thought I found such a specimen over the summer, but it was growing on protected land (and people were looking), so I couldn't take it home. Then, a few weeks ago, I went on a group mushroom walk with Lawrence Millman. He just came out with a new mushroom book, Fascinating Fungi of New England, which is beautifully illustrated and written with a certain amount of wit. He brought us around the woods of Drumlin Farm and pointed out all kinds of fungi I hadn't seen before, like stinkhorns and white pine splotch. He seemed to have a particular fascination with slime molds, which I did not share.

On our way back, though, something caught my eye. I nearly peed my pants on the spot because some distance off the path was the most beautiful hen of the woods I've ever seen. It looked like two hens nestled together and it was pristine. Pristine, I tell you! I got out my trusty camera and proceeded to fumble around with the controls, including white balance, ISO, and the critical equilibrium between aperture and shutter speed, during which time the battery died. I shit you not. It died at that very moment. Meanwhile, people must have noticed that I found something camera-worthy because they made a beeline straight for it. A few of them started ripping pieces off of it to get a better look at the pores. I had to stab myself in the leg with my pen to keep from shrieking STOP!! DON'T MANGLE IT, GODDAMNIT. LEAVE IT ALONE!!! (Sheesh, Tammy, possessive much?) Finally, I flung myself on top of it using my body as a human shield. At this point, someone took note of the emotional pitch and I was politely reminded that this, too, was protected land and the mushroom should not be removed. But it's a farm, I said! A farm! And that's when a team of horses was harnessed to my belt loops and dragged me away, limp and pouting. Oh, Drumlin, you big tease!

Luckily, a nice young lady snapped a photo of the mushroom before it got too mangled and she sent me the link. See how pretty? You can tell somebody else took that photo because it's sharp and well lit. It takes more than battery power to take a photo like that.

Anyway, I've been on a mission these past few weeks to find a hen of the woods I can actually bring home and cook. In fact, I found two! BUT one was well past its prime, and the other, pictured above, was way too maggoty for me to actually eat. I considered it, I really did, but even I have some standards. Oh well. At least next year I'll know to return to the coordinates of those exact locations. And this time, I'll be all decked out in camouflage with my pocketknife in my teeth and a wild look in my eyes and no one will dare stop me!!!

Roasted Delicata Squash with Quinoa Salad

Now comes the time of year when the squash situation starts to get out of hand. Maybe you get one or two squashes from your CSA pickup, but then maybe you don't cook them right away, and soon you're getting two or three more the following week, and before you know it your Husband is threatening to drop-kick them all out the back door. And he'll do it, too.

Here's a surprisingly good way to segue from summer into fall and make a dent in your squash pile: baked delicata squash stuffed with a cool, vinaigrette-spiked salad of quinoa, apples, arugula, and herbs. Delicata may be my favorite type of squash for its sweet, delicate flavor and pretty, edible skin. The hollowed-out halves make a great serving vessel, and its sweetness pairs well with the nuttiness of the quinoa as well as the peppery arugula and tart apples. Refreshing yet comforting as summer turns to fall.

Delicata Squash with Quinoa Salad

Don't cut off the ends of the squash like I did in my picture. It's much prettier to keep them intact, plus the salad will be better contained.

2 delicata squash, halved lengthwise, seeded
2 Tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil
1 cup quinoa
2 Tbsp. golden raisins
1 Tbsp. sherry vinegar
1 tsp. honey
1 tart green apple (like Granny Smith, Rhode Island Greening, Roxbury Russet, or Northern Spy), finely diced
1 large shallot, minced
1 garlic clove, minced
2 Tbsp. chopped mint
2 Tbsp. chopped parsley
1 cup arugula (about 1 oz.)

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Brush cut sides of squash with a little olive oil (reserve the rest), and season with salt and pepper. Place squash cut side down on a baking sheet and roast until tender, about 45 minutes.

Meanwhile, in a smallish saucepan, bring 2 cups of lightly salted water to a boil. Add quinoa, cover, and simmer 10 minutes (or use a rice cooker). Stir in the raisins and simmer, covered, until the water is absorbed, about 5 minutes. Transfer quinoa to bowl and let cool.

In a small bowl, whisk the vinegar and honey with the remaining olive oil and season with salt and pepper. Add the dressing to the quinoa along with the apple, shallot, garlic, mint, and parsley. Toss well. Add the arugula right before serving and toss gently. Generously fill squash halves with quinoa salad and serve.

Source: Chef Michael Symon of Lola Bistro in Cleveland, via the cookbook Reinventing the Classics by the editors of Food & Wine

Local Ingredients:
Squash, arugula, shallots: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Apple: Autumn Hills Orchard, Groton, MA
Quinoa: Baer's Best, Hamilton, MA (via Russo's)
Honey: Reseska Apiaries, Holliston, MA
Mint: My backyard

Folded Tortilla Salad

Speaking of cheap meals, here's a nice lunch for $1 a serving. Basically, you make a big batch of the roasted tomatillo salsa you see right over there in the sidebar and purée it in a blender with a little water. Do that ahead of time. Then fry 3 corn tortillas (not flour) one by one in some oil about 20 seconds per side until crisping but not crispy. Dip both sides of the fried tortillas in the tomatillo purée and fold on plate. Top with more purée, shredded cabbage, sliced radishes, and crumbled queso fresco. Season with salt and pepper. It sounds a little weird, I'll admit, but talk about great Mexican flavor with lots of fresh veggies. Don't knock it 'til you try it.

Ingredient Sources:
Tomatillos, onion, serrano chile, cabbage, radishes: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Corn tortillas: Cinco de Mayo, Lynn, MA

A Very Important Vegetable Meeting

I've called you all here today because I had a couple of revelations about vegetables over the past week that you might be interested in. Or not, but since when does that ever stop me. I'm not really sure how to import PowerPoint presentations into my blog, so I'm just going to read them off:

Bullet Point Number One: Spaghetti squash is delicious layered like lasagna with tomato sauce, mozzarella cheese, and Parmesan. Especially if you use a nice thick homemade tomato sauce so it doesn't get too watered down. Simply cut squash in half, scoop out guts, roast cut-side-down on oiled sheet pan 45 min. at 350 F until tender. Scoop out the stringy contents of one squash shell into square baking dish, layer with sauce and cheese, repeat with second half. Bake until bubbly, 20-30 minutes. The kids didn't notice that it wasn't spaghetti and I didn't tell them. The result was that both of them gobbled up the whole thing even though neither one of them likes tomato sauce. I know! I've given up trying to figure kids out, but sometimes it works to your advantage.

Bullet Point Number Two: YOU MUST MAKE THIS EGGPLANT RELISH!!!

Put aside that maybe you don't like eggplant, not to mention that what the hell is it doing in relish form? Put those things aside and keep them there. My neighbor brought me a taste of this one afternoon and it changed my world. I then made two batches in a week, using up four of those long, skinny CSA eggplants and a bunch of little ones from the school garden, as well as two red Italian frying peppers we got in our farmshare. I am crazy for this relish. It's delicious scooped up with pita chips, makes a nice side dish next to lamb, and could totally work as a sandwich topping. Husband wants it as lasagna filling. It's awesome! AND it's totally healthy—there's nothing bad in here at all. To put this in proper perspective, I've just spent the past month making almost nothing but cakes, pies, and strudels, and the only thing I want to eat right now is this eggplant. Either my cookbook blows or this eggplant is really something.

And that concludes my presentation. This meeting is adjourned. You are hereby dismissed from work early to go make this eggplant relish.

Spicy Eggplant Relish

If you peel the eggplant, no one will know it's eggplant and everyone will eat it. Swear to god.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 cup minced onion
1 medium globe eggplant or 2-3 long, skinny ones, diced small (peeling optional)
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. salt
1 medium red bell pepper, minced
1 clove garlic, minced
1 Tbsp. lemon juice
Cayenne to taste

Heat oil in a large skillet. Add onion, eggplant, cumin, and salt, and sauté over medium heat until eggplant is tender, 10-15 minutes. Add pepper and sauté another 5 minutes. Stir in garlic and lemon juice and cook several minutes more. Add cayenne a few shakes at a time until you get the desired heat. Add more salt if necessary. Serve warm, room temperature, or cold with pita chips, lamb chops, roast chicken, or all by itself with a spoon.

Source: An old Moosewood cookbook.

Local Ingredients:
Eggplant, peppers, onions, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Farming Film

Thanks for the movie recommendations, you guys. Lars and the Real Girl got the most votes, so I'll be checking that one out ASAP and the others soon after. BTW, I rented Winter's Bone last week before I got your ideas, and that just solidified Husband's view that I'm not allowed to pick the movies anymore. It was good, don't get me wrong. Very good, but maybe a little bleak to pile on top of an already bleak workweek was Husband's point.

Speaking of movies, and especially speaking of movies filled with hope, there's a new documentary out about the resurgence of farming among young people in this country. It's called The Greenhorns, and there's a screening this coming Wednesday 9/28 at 7 p.m. at the Brattle Theater in Harvard Square. The film will be followed by a moderated discussion with several young local farmers, the roster of which hadn't been finalized when I last inquired but which included the lovely Ellery Kimball of Blue Heron Organic Farm in Lincoln (the little farm by the railroad tracks on Rt. 117). Tix are $5 (cheap!) and can be bought at the box office at 40 Brattle St., Cambridge or here.

Hope to see you there!

 

Scenes From the School Garden

Healthy Waltham and the parent volunteers did a great job with the school garden this year. Come see what we grew:

My kids helped plant the cucumber patch with the school librarian one July evening. Many thanks to Mrs. L for donating the plants and cucurbit expertise. They absolutely thrived.

Last year's first graders planted these pumpkin seeds. This year's second graders should be pleased to see how much their plants have grown, and how big the pumpkins have become (including one GIANT plant sprawling out of the compost, like Jack and the Beanstalk but horizontal.) A wheelbarrow was left right-side-up during Tropical Storm Irene and collected at least 6 inches of water. We sloshed it over to the pumpkin patch and the kids filled up their watering cans from there.

We didn't have as many cherry tomato plants as in years past in order to make room for other crops like fairy tale eggplant and peppers.

There was also a good showing from the Swiss chard, kale, broccoli, and green beans.

I can't take the credit for most of this. You know my gardening skills are flimsy at best. Parent volunteers and their pint-sized helpers came through all summer long to weed, water, and stake tomatoes. But I think it's fair for me to take a little bit of the credit for not killing everything!

Last week, I harvested about 20 enormous cucumbers, an armful of tiny eggplants, some green peppers, a bunch of kale, and a ton of green beans.

I brought the loot to the school cafeteria and the lunch ladies took what they would use. This in addition to all the great zucchini, summer squash, and salad greens donated to the school by my CSA, Waltham Fields Community Farm.

Now all we need in the school garden are a couple of apple trees, and perhaps some fall raspberries!

Slow Food USA $5 Challenge

Last week was Slow Food USA's $5 Challenge. The goal: to make food for everyone at the table for less than the cost of fast food. I have a little experience with cooking on a budget, so I took up the challenge—not to see if it could be done. I know it can be done. But to show that it can be done with local and sustainable ingredients. Everything came from sources within 100 miles of my home and was about as close to organic as you can get. No special trips for ingredients—I just used what was already in the house.

Here's what I made: grilled marinated flank steak and barley salad with grilled vegetables, shiitakes, and goat cheese. The tally? Less than $4 per person. And that's not counting leftovers. I have it on good authority that you can't even get a McDonald's "value meal" for that price, much less a McFlankSteak. The thing is, I feel like most of us who cook real food at home do this everyday, often for far less money than that.  I bet if you (yes, you!) did a calculation around what you made for dinner this Monday night, one serving would come in at less than the cost of a McDonald's meal. Probably a lot less. And better, too. Go you!

Sources:
Steak: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Red peppers, zucchini, onions: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Barley: Moraine Farm, Hamilton, MA
Goat cheese: Westfield Farm, Hubbardston, MA
Shiitake mushrooms, herbs: My backyard

Tuesday Tease: Doughnuts

Just a glimpse into the secret things going on inside my cookbook.

More to come.

Summer Squash Soup

Do you have a lot of summer squash? What kind of a question is that? Of course you do! Thanks to all the rain we got from Irene, it's like Field of Dreams out there with the bat-sized zucchinis.

So what do I do when I have too much of any vegetable? I purée it into oblivion and call it soup! The results can be kind of sketchy, I'll admit, but this one—based on the Spanish puré de calabacín—is actually pretty good. I kept the skins on so this otherwise bland-looking soup would have little yellow and green flecks throughout. It's thickened with nothing more than the starch of the potatoes, and finished with the herbs of your choice. I was happy with my lemon thyme, but regular thyme, basil, or marjoram would also work. Serve a bowl of this alongside some toasted scali bread slathered with mayonnaise and topped with thick slices of gorgeous heirloom tomatoes, salt and pepper generously applied.

Now that's summer!


Summer Squash Soup

A little grated cheese melted in there wouldn't be out of place, either.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped (or leeks)
2 lbs. summer squash like zucchini or pattypan, unpeeled, cut into 1-inch chunks
1-2 small potatoes, peeled, cubed small
2-3 cups water
1 tsp. salt
Sprigs of fresh thyme
1 tsp. chopped fresh herbs like lemon thyme, basil, or marjoram
Lemon juice to taste
Black pepper

In a medium pot, heat olive oil and sauté onion until translucent, about 4 minutes. Add squash and potatoes, and stir to coat in oil. Add just enough water to cover and stir in salt, pepper, and thyme sprigs. Close lid and and bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer 15-20 minutes, until squash and potatoes are tender. Let cool a bit and then pull out thyme sprigs. Using a stick blender or a regular blender, puree soup until smooth (if using a regular blender, do this in two batches). Thin with water, if necessary, and add herbs, lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste.

Local Sources:
Onion, squash: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Potatoes: Picadilly Farm, Winchester, NH
Herbs: My yard

Kind of Blue

On vacation last week, we got a hot tip that there were pick-your-own blueberries nearby. I was expecting a few neglected bushes in someone's yard well picked over by birds or maybe a row of anemic branches covered in netting. But, I tell you, these were the most beautiful blueberry bushes I have ever seen. More than 30 years old and two dozen strong, the bushy branches were dripping with fruit and raindrops, full of the wild flavor I remember from canoeing in New Hampshire as a kid, picking berries along the pond's edge. 

We picked five pounds of blueberries, and then we came back a few days later and picked five more! At $1.50/lb., you'd be a fool not to. Back at the lake house, I made blueberry pie, blueberry cobbler, and, now that I'm back home, blueberry cake. It seemed excessive at the time, but I could use another 10 lbs. right about now. Call me greedy.

If you're inclined to make impromptu pie in an unfamiliar kitchen with whatever ingredients are on hand, here's what I did: Mixed 2 cups flour with a tablespoon of sugar and a teaspoon of salt. Cut in 12 Tbsp. unsalted butter. Diluted buttermilk with ice cubes and a little cold water, and added a little over 1/2 cup, until the dough was just moist enough to hold together but not wet. I divided the mixture into two slightly uneven parts, kneaded them a few times, and formed them into two disks. Then I wrapped them in plastic wrap and refrigerated them for a couple of hours while I went for a swim.

Later, I preheated the oven to 425°F. I scooped out a heaping-pie-dish-worth of blueberries and dumped them into a large bowl with 1/2 cup sugar, a tablespoon of cornstarch, a few shakes of cinnamon, and a few squeezes of lemon juice strained through my fingers to catch the seeds. I stirred that gently, and then rolled out the larger disk of dough to fit the pie plate. I dumped in the blueberry mixture, rolled out the smaller dough disk, and draped it over the blueberries. After tucking the edges underneath, crimping them, and cutting steam vents, I brushed the top with buttermilk. Into the top third of the oven it went for 20 minutes, then I reduced the heat to 375°F for about 20 minutes more. Maybe less. I always forget that pies with top crusts cook quicker than those with drafty lattice crusts.

We ate our slices warm with vanilla ice cream and at least one child licked his bowl clean, the ultimate compliment. Not my kids, though. My kids won't eat pie! Can you believe that??

Anyway, there aren't any pictures of the pie. I was on vacation, goddamnit!

Ratatouille: Summer Vegetable Stew

To continue my series on vegetable dishes that I make all the time but never document, here is my recipe for ratatouille.  There aren't many completely meatless meals that show up on my table—let's be honest—but this is one of them. Basically a rainbow of stewed summer vegetables, this rustic French dish is perfectly homey if a bit homely. Lately, I've been serving it over brown rice, letting the garlicky tomato sauce soak in to temper the whole-graininess, but it can be a side dish, too. Fresh thyme and basil keep the flavors bright. This is "food on the food" at its best/worst. Your CSA zucchini and eggplants will thank you for it, but your kids most certainly will not!

Ratatouille

This takes about an hour and a half from start to finish (if you prep your other veggies while the eggplant and zucchini are draining). A fair amount of that time is at the stove so I wouldn't attempt this during a heat wave, but the nights have been cooling off recently...

1 medium eggplant (or two of those skinny ones you get in your farmshare), cut into 3/4-inch cubes
6 Tbsp. olive oil
2 onions, halved and sliced
2 smallish zucchini, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
2 lbs. tomatoes, halved, seeded, and chopped into cubes (or two medium cans diced tomatoes in juice)
6-8 cloves garlic, peeled and mashed into smallish pieces by pounding on the side of a knife
1 bay leaf
1/2 tsp. chopped fresh thyme
Fresh basil leaves, sliced into ribbons
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Place eggplant cubes in a colander and sprinkle with a few pinches of kosher salt. Set a smaller bowl on top to weigh them down and place zucchini into that bowl, also sprinkling with salt. Let sit half an hour. In small handfuls with a clean kitchen towel, give them a gentle squeeze to dry them (I don't rinse the salt--I just add less at the end).

Heat 2 Tbsp. of olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and lightly brown onions, about 6-8 minutes. With a slotted spoon, transfer onions to a bowl, reserving oil. Heat another 2 Tbsp. olive oil and lightly brown the zucchini, stirring occasionally. Transfer zucchini to the bowl of onions. Add another 2 Tbsp. oil and cook the eggplant until lightly brown, tossing every few minutes.

Return the zucchini and onions to the pan with the eggplant, and add the tomatoes, garlic, bay leaf, thyme, a few pinches of salt, and black pepper. Simmer 20-30 minutes over medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until vegetables are tender but not mushy. Discard bay leaf. Season to taste with pepper and perhaps a bit more salt. Serve over brown rice and sprinkle with ribbons of basil. Serves 4-6.

Local Sources:

Eggplant, zucchini, onions, garlic, tomatoes, basil: Waltham Fields, Community Farm, Waltham, MA

I Brake for Mushrooms!

Right before I went on vacation, I found my first hen of the woods mushroom!  The formidable fungus was thriving on the grounds of Garden in the Woods in Framingham, a boreal wonderland of native plants run by the New England Wild Flower Society.  I recognized the edible shroom right away.  Once you try something that delicious, you never forget it. The contours are indelibly imprinted on your brain. I couldn't take it home, of course, but it was fun to spot it in the wild nonetheless!

I was still basking in my mushroom triumph on the way to the Cape when TeenNiece, whom I've been unable to convince that fungus is anything but disgusting, made the casual observation that none of the other bicycles fastened to the various vacation-bound vehicles had milk crates strapped to the backs of them.  Only mine.  She complimented me on my uber-stylish "mushroom basket," which I'd never used in that capacity before, but, now that she mentioned it, is a FANTASTIC IDEA!  Then, right on cue, Husband launched into his very entertaining impersonation of me identifying mushrooms, characterized by bold, arrogant pronouncements coupled with a complete and utter lack of care.  He has a knack for coming up with the most unflattering voices that sound nothing like me but are somehow so funny that you simply have to accept them on the basis of their being 100% wrong. 

The mushroom-related torment continued for much of the week, especially since the yard of the cottage we rent was completely overrun with fungus (mostly inedible russulas and poison puffballs by my estimation, and there goes Husband with his voices again).  But the mobile mushroom basket?  That was pure genius.  I'll bring my pocketknife along on bike rides, collect any large mushroom specimens I find, then wheel my way back home distributing spores along the way.  Why didn't I think of that??

Swwweeeeeeeeeet!!!

I have some news to report, you guys, and for once it's not bad! 

It would seem that I'm going to be writing a book! A cookbook, to be exact. What's more, it appears that someone is going to publish it.  That's the tricky part, right there, especially in this economy.  But, wait, it gets better: An actual professional photographer is going to take the photos! I KNOW!!!  How did I score that??  I have no idea, but here's how I imagined it:

Them: So Tammy.

Me: Yes.

Them: About the photography for this book.

Me: Uh-huh.

Them: It's not that we don't like the style of your blog photos...

Me: You mean blurry?

Them: Well...

Me: Dim?

Them: Uh...

Me: With the attention to detail of a sleepy preschooler?

Them: ...We already have a photographer in mind for this project.

(pause while a single tear rolls down my cheek)

Me: OOOOHHHHHHH, THANK YOU, BEJEEBUS!!!!

Them: Who?

Me: Never mind.

Here's the scoop: The book is coming out in Fall 2013 by Running Press. It will be about seasonal winter desserts with an emphasis on local sourcing.  In other words, really cozy, delicious things made out of apples, pears, cranberries, nuts, cheese, maple syrup, etc. Yes, even squash. I'll be digging deep into the root cellar for this, and we'll also be spending a little time in the citrus belt because they have winter down there, too. Also, I love citrus. Basically, if it grows in the winter or can be stored in the pantry, it's fair game. The book will cost $30. I mention this so you can start saving now. That's a dollar a month starting today. Loose change is fine. It will be worth every penny, I promise. Did I mention the pretty photos? Only the best for my loyal readers (P.S. Don't get used to it!).

So I guess this would be the appropriate time to thank you guys for coming to visit me out here in cyberspace.  If not for you who are reading this anonymously in numbers that seem interesting to publishers—some of you since I started this blog five years ago—there would be no book at all.  And I might be resorting to selling myself on the street corner for not that much money probably.  Is there anything sadder than a prostitute peddling pumpkin pie on the side?  I'm not sure that there is.  So thanks are also in order to my agent, Melissa Sarver at the Elizabeth Kaplan Literary Agency, for sparing me that indignity.

A few more things: There will definitely be some swearing over the next year.  Like double the usual amount.  Maybe more.  Also, I could use some recipe-testers.  If you're willing to test a recipe or two to make sure they work in your kitchen, leave a comment or send an e-mail and I'll be in touch.  But right now, I need to tend to the first and most pressing order of business: a gym membership! Second order of business is a vacation. 

See you in a week!

Cherries

My god, the cherries I got at Russo's the other day were so amazing, the house is literally strewn with pits and stems. I have half a mind to brave the hoards during peak shopping hours just to get some more.  Then maybe I'll make some of this Cherry Bounce from The Runaway Spoon: sweet cherries preserved in bourbon for later use in holiday cocktails and possible fruitcake soaks. Doesn't that sound good?  That's IF there are any left.  I'm quickly closing in on the bottom of the bowl!

Butterfly in Lemon Tree

Look at this photo my sister took!  It's a swallowtail butterfly in a lemon tree in her Hawaiian backyard.  I think it's pretty obvious who got the photography gene in the family. 

This print arrived unexpectedly in the mail, and it's going to look great in my lime green bathroom off the kitchen (it's also available for purchase here).  If you find yourself in the Maui area getting married or vacationing and you want some pretty pictures taken, she's available for hire at Trish Barker Photography.

That concludes this public service announcement.

Ribfest Hush Puppies

Ribfest is a tradition of ours that started about 10 years ago with our next-door neighbors, and is somewhat legendary among our friends. 

It began as a potluck barbecue free-for-all with 40 people and three grills full of spicy, sticky ribs.  Because there was always a major extended downpour regardless of the date we chose, tarps were hoisted up between the two houses to keep the grills dry and the people around them slightly less dry.  Dining tables and card tables were pushed together like mismatched train cars winding their way around the first floor of our neighbor's house.  In later years, we all crammed ourselves onto our newly rebuilt front porch, piles of orange-streaked, wadded-up napkins littering the tables, rain pouring all around us.  It was fun, but a little crazy.  Turns out manning three grills at a slow, smoldering pace for 6 hours in the rain while keeping small children at bay is harder than it looks.

Over the years, the festivities have become scaled back to include mostly just ourselves and a few others.  The basic menu has remained more or less the same: our neighbors' spectacularly tender and flavorful ribs and their similarly amazing grilled beans.  My contribution has always involved hushpuppies, the deep-fried cornmeal fritters I fancied as a kid when we lived in the Chesapeake Bay area.  Depending on the year, I might also make collard greens, coleslaw, or fried okra.  Often, one or the other of us provides potato salad or cornbread or a green salad.  I always make a dessert. 

The main attraction, however, are the ribs.  Unfortunately, I'm not in a position to share the rib recipe.  I'm sorry to be a gigantic tease.  There's something magical about those ribs and I'm afraid if I learn the secret, the magic will be lost.  I can, on the other hand, share my recipe for hushpuppies—and I think you will find them to be completely irresistible.

 

Hushpuppies

For best results, use the finest ground cornmeal you can find.  Fry these right before you're going to serve them, as they don't improve upon sitting.  Give yourself a good 15-20 minutes to fry them all.  The recipe makes about 2 dozen, but you can double (or triple) the recipe as needed--just allow more time for frying and bring them out in installments.  Serve with corn and cayenne mayonnaise for a spicy kick.

2 cups yellow cornmeal, finely ground
1 Tbsp. flour
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1 Tbsp. kosher salt
1 Tbsp. granulated sugar
2 tsp. onion powder
1 tsp. garlic powder
1/4 cup chopped onion
1/4 cup chopped scallion
1/2 cup frozen corn kernels, defrosted (optional)
1 egg, slightly beaten
1 cup buttermilk, plus an extra Tbsp. or two if necessary
Canola or peanut oil for frying

In a large mixing bowl, stir together the cornmeal, flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, sugar, onion powder, and garlic powder.  Add the onion, scallion, corn kernels, egg, and buttermilk and mix well.  I often add another 1-2 Tbsp. of buttermilk if it seems too thick, but much more liquid than that may cause painful oil splatters to occur while frying, so use caution.  Let batter rest 15 minutes.

Meanwhile, heat two inches of oil in a large heavy pot.  Use a candy thermometer to monitor the heat.  The ideal temperature for deep-frying is 375°F, but it will fluctuate as you take things in and out of the pot.  Adjust the heat as necessary.  Usher small children out of the room due to aforementioned splatters.  Fry hushpuppies 4 or 5 at a time until they turn a rich terracotta brown, then flip and fry on the other side (about 3 minutes total, but this will vary with temperature).  Remove from oil with tongs or slotted spoon.  Drain on paper towels and sprinkle with kosher salt.  Eat immediately.  (The small crispy bits rescued from the hot oil are the cook's reward!)


Corn and Cayenne Mayonnaise

This recipe makes about twice as much as you need for a single recipe of hushpuppies, but it's also delicious with cornmeal-crusted catfish.  Can be made a day ahead of time if kept refrigerated.

1 cup canola or vegetable oil, plus 1 Tbsp. to fry corn
1 cup corn kernels
1 clove garlic, peeled
2 egg yolks
2 Tbsp. vinegar
1 tsp. Dijon mustard
1 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. paprika
1/4-1/2 tsp. cayenne
Lemon juice to taste

In a medium frying pan, heat 1 Tbsp. oil until hot and fry corn until nicely browned, about 2 minutes.  Let cool.

In a food processor, puree the cooled corn and garlic.  Add the egg yolks, vinegar, mustard, salt, sugar, paprika, and cayenne (start with 1/4 tsp.), and blend well. Through the feed tube, slowly add the oil with the machine running until fully emulsified. Taste to adjust seasoning, adding a little lemon juice or more salt and cayenne if necessary. 

Note: If your mayo should break, meaning separate into a curdled, disgusting mess, have no fear.  Separate another egg and add the yolk to a medium bowl (reserve the white in the fridge for another use).  Very slowly add the broken mayo to the egg yolk while whisking to incorporate until they are fully combined.  The new mayo should be smooth and more stable this time.  Dilute with water if too thick, whisking well.

Source: Adapted from The Cambridge School of Culinary Arts.

Local Ingredients:
Eggs: Codman Farm, Lincoln, MA
Scallions: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Buttermilk: Kate's, Old Orchard Beach, ME
Mustard: Raye's Mustard, Eastport, ME

A Little Mushroom Humor

Over dinner last night, I was updating everyone on the status of my most recently inoculated shiitake logs when I got some unexpected reactions.

Me: So I was outside waxing my log...

Husband: Please don't say "waxing my log" ever again.

Me: Why?  What do you mean?

Him: (sigh)

Me: So I was outside waxing my log and I had all this extra melted wax I wanted to save but didn't know how.  So I dug a little well in the ground, then I put it in the hole until it hardened. 

(TeenNiece laughs hysterically, falls out of chair.  Husband begins slow- clapping.)

Usually, I just get blank stares or eye-rolling when I talk about my mushrooms.  I'm so glad my family is finally taking an interest in my work!!