FOOD ON THE FOOD

Adventures at Cruz Market

Not far from my house is a tiny Latin-American market about the size of my dining room. It is cramped and in no way aesthetically pleasing, but it's cheap and I can usually find whatever exotic ingredient I'm looking for.

However, the place has always struck me as a little bit sketchy. Maybe it's the industrial neighborhood, or the fact that there's no room to move around, but more likely it has something to do with the long, mysterious line leading to a door at the back of the store. There's always a line, and it's unclear what exactly is going on back there. Nobody talks. Everyone seems very serious and determined. What's everyone in line for? That's what I wanted to ask. But asking too many questions seemed like a good way to get myself banned from my most convenient source of goat milk cajeta and passion fruit concentrate. No, best to keep my head down, pay for my corn tortillas, and get the hell out of there. It's always the innocent bystanders that get shot.

But I found myself back there on an errand one morning. The place was deserted. There was no mysterious line coming from the back. I decided to do some recon. I meandered over to the beverage cases and pretended to be really interested in ginger beer. Come to find out, I'm really interested in ginger beer. (Note to self: GINGER BEER!) Then I sidled down a little further to a giant freezer jam-packed with whole chickens. Whole, unbelievably cheap chickens. Interesting, I thought. Very interesting. DON'T GET DISTRACTED, I scolded myself! Then, like the seasoned CIA operative that I am, I pretended to trip and sort of stumbled over to the back door. Okay, fine, I wasn't pretending. The shoes I bought on sale were mislabeled and are a half-size too big. At any rate, I noted that it was more of a half-door, a window, really, onto a tiny room. That's when a woman's face appeared right in front of me.

"Oh, hi!" I said in something that wasn't Spanish. "Whatcha got back there?"

I braced myself for the worst.

After a bit of linguistic maneuvering, she directed my attention to the most gigantic empanadas I have ever seen in my life. Empanadillas, to be exact. Bigger than my whole hand, they were stuffed with chicken and cheese, and blistered from spending ample time in hot oil, just the way I like them. She had beef empanadillas, too, and fried plantains and some sort of corn thing I couldn't sort out. Behind her was a tiny kitchen. WTF? Why had I never noticed the smell of food before? Have I lost my ability to sniff out deliciousness? I bought one chicken empanada for $2, and went back to my car feeling like a complete idiot—but a happy idiot! I ate the whole thing before I even started up the car. It was fucking delicious.

So, in case you're wondering what goes on in the back of Cruz Market, that's what. Empanadas. They're not illegal, but they should be!!

Cruz Market, 139 Felton St., Waltham, MA (kitchen closed Sundays and Mondays)

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.

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Chili

I need to sneak this recipe in before it gets too nice outside. Who wants chili in 70-degree weather? But I think we can expect a few more cold, rainy days in our future if I know Spring, and, when they come, keep this black bean and sweet potato chili in mind. Yes, it's vegetarian, but it's quick to make and boldly spiced as chili should be, making it very satisfying, especially when sprinkled with queso fresco or any other cheese you might have left over from the huevos rancheros. I'm always biased towards meat, so if I like a vegetarian recipe, that's a good sign!

Black Bean and Sweet Potato Chili

I cut back a little on the chipotle powder to keep things accessible for the kids. The flavors were still quite prominent. If you don't have chipotle powder, you can chop up one or two canned chipotles in adobo, or use a pinch of cayenne instead, or substitute some smoked paprika for a milder but smokier flavor.

2 tablespoons olive oil
1 medium onion, chopped
1 large sweet potato, peeled and diced
4 cloves garlic, minced
2 tablespoons chili powder
1 tablespoon ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground chipotle
2 1/2 cups water
2 15-oz. cans black beans, rinsed
1 14-oz. can diced tomatoes
1 tablespoon fresh lime juice
1/4 cup chopped fresh cilantro
Queso fresco (optional)

Heat oil is a large saucepan over medium-high heat. Add onion and sweet potato, and cook stirring often, until the onion is soft, about 4 minutes. Add garlic, chili powder, cumin, chipotle, and salt to taste, stirring constantly until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Add water, bring to a simmer, cover, reduce heat to medium-low to maintain a simmer, and cook until the sweet potato is tender, 10-12 minutes. Add beans, tomatoes, and lime juice. Return to a simmer and cook until slightly reduced, about 4 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in cilantro and more salt if needed. Crumble queso fresco on top. Serve with cornbread or cheddar quesadillas.

Source: Adapted from Eating Well magazine.

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!

Sesame Soba Salad with Shiitakes

Husband was out of town last week, so I took that opportunity to make all the food he hates. (Or all the food he thinks he hates.) Enter this sesame soba salad with mushrooms and tofu. He's never had this particular dish before, but it just seems like exactly the kind of thing he wouldn't want to see on the dinner table after a long day at work. You get a sense for these things after spending 20 years with someone. But like I said, he was gone, and it was the perfect repository for my recent flush of homegrown shiitakes.

The recipe is from Melissa Clark's latest book, Cook This Now, which you should seriously consider buying, not because of the bullying title but because your favorite blogger bullied you into it. (That's me, by the way. Your favorite blogger. In case somebody else jumped to mind.) The chapters are arranged by month so it's perfect for cooking with the seasons, especially if you belong to a particularly fertile CSA. It's one of those cookbooks where every single recipe sounds good.

Soba are thin Japanese buckwheat noodles, and here they're tossed with roasted mushrooms, fresh cucumbers and scallions, and a sesame and soy sauce dressing brightened with ginger and a bit of orange juice. There's also a recipe for tofu "croutons," which I was skeptical about, not being much for tofu myself, but then I ate half of the fried cubes before dinner was even served. Frying makes everything better, even tofu. 

I think you can pretty well imagine the kids' reaction to this meal. My eldest looked stricken when confronted with his plate. He's a great eater these days, but even he has his limits. Brown pasta? Tofu? Mushrooms that look like sea monster tentacles? Not a recipe for success. (Well, maybe the sea monster tentacles.) Both kids ate their mandatory quota of bites and then slunk off. But, boy, I thought it was delicious. I will definitely be making this again, though maybe just for my solo weekday lunches.

Sesame Soba Salad with Roasted Shiitakes and Tofu Croutons

When outdoor potluck season begins, consider this instead of your usual pasta salad.

8 oz. shiitake mushrooms, stems removed, caps sliced into thin strips
2 1/2 Tbsp. toasted sesame oil, divided
5 1/2 Tbsp. soy sauce, divided
1/2 lb. extra-firm tofu, drained, cut into 3/4-inch cubes
1 Tbsp. peanut oil or olive oil
1 1/2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed orange juice
1 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. grated gingerroot
1 medium cucumber, peeled
6 oz. soba noodles
2 scallions, thinly sliced
2 Tbsp. chopped fresh cilantro
1 Tbsp. sesame seeds
Salt to taste

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Set a pot of water to boil.

Toss the mushroom slices with 1 Tbsp. sesame oil, 1/2 Tbsp. soy sauce, and a pinch of salt. Spread them out on a baking sheet in a single layer. Roast, tossing occasionally, until mushrooms are tender and slightly golden, 8-10 minutes.

Pat tofu cubes dry with paper towels and heat oil in a large nonstick pan over medium heat. When it shimmers, add the tofu in a single layer and let it cook undisturbed for 3-4 minutes until golden brown on the bottom. Flip the pieces over and cook 2-3 minutes more until the other side is golden. In a small bowl, whisk together 2 Tbsp. soy sauce and 1/2 Tbsp. sesame oil. Pour it into the pan with the tofu and toss for 1 minute longer. Drain tofu on a paper towel-lined plate.

In a small bowl, whisk together the remaining 3 Tbsp. soy sauce, 1 Tbsp. sesame oil, orange juice, rice wine vinegar, and ginger. Let sit so flavors meld.

Cook the soba noodles according to the package instructions. My instructions were in Japanese, so I kept tasting them until they seemed done, about 6 minutes. Drain and run under cold water, draining again.

Cut the peeled cucumbers lengthwise into quarters and scoop out the seeds. Cut each quarter into slices. In a large bowl, toss the noodles with the cucumber, mushrooms, scallions, and cilantro. Lightly toast sesame seeds in a dry pan, tossing frequently, 1-2 minutes. Add sesame seeds to salad. Toss with dressing, top with tofu, and serve.