FOOD ON THE FOOD

The Scariest Pie I've Ever Made

I received a huge quantity of quinces a few weeks ago from the Quince Lady (who I wrote about in my cookbook). This was great news because homemade quince paste is one of my most favorite things to eat in the whole wide world. I'm always raving about it to anyone who will listen (proof: my gushing quince segment on NPR's All Things Considered).

After cooking up a new batch of unbelievably good quince paste, I was casting about trying to decide what to do with the remaining quinces. I settled on a tarte tatin, a French fruit tart traditionally made with apples and cooked upside-down in a skillet. After baking, you flip it over to reveal an open-faced pie with the crust on the bottom and glossy, caramelized fruit on top.

These particular ornamental quinces are extremely tart, and require vast amounts of sugar you can't even imagine. Mountains of sugar. So I went ahead and cooked everything down in a cast iron skillet, letting it simmer low and slow until the fruits took on a rosy tint which eventually deepened to the color of black cherries. I even made my own puff pastry for the occasion, laying it on top, tucking in the edges, and baking it until golden-brown with the juices bubbling thickly around the sides.

When it cooled down enough, I flipped it onto a plate. It was beautiful. I took a few pictures and then I cut a small piece from the edge. But the first bite was terrible. It tasted strangely bitter and metallic. I used the same proportions of sugar to fruit as I had for the quince paste, and yet the result was radically different. It should taste good, I insisted, so I kept tasting. And tasting. But it never got any better. Something was wrong. I threw it all in the trash.

I was disappointed and perplexed, but that's how experiments go sometimes. Hours later when I walked into the bathroom, I froze when I saw my reflection. My teeth were blue. You know how sometimes when you're at a party with red wine, you'll notice that some people's teeth and lips are a little purply. It was like that, only five times worse. I dropped whatever I was holding right onto the floor. Without breaking eye contact with my hideous reflection—lips peeled back and frozen into a skeletal grimace—I fumbled around for my toothbrush and toothpaste, praying this wasn't a permanent condition. It wasn't just a couple of teeth, it was ALL of my teeth, top and bottom. It reminded me of the time my sister attempted to dye her dark brown hair blond in junior high and it turned out alien-green, requiring an emergency trip to the hair salon.

Luckily, thanks to the magic of baking soda and/or my frantic brushing, it all came off. Later on, when I was washing the dishes, I noticed that the "pre-seasoned coating" on my newish cast iron pan had corroded away on the bottom and partway up the sides of the pan. Normally, I prefer to season my cast iron with years of bacon fat and love, but I needed that size pan on that particular day and all the store had was one with some kind of shiny coating. I bought it against my better judgment. My hypothesis is that the acidity of the quinces caused the coating to dissolve right off the pan and into my tart. And presumably also into my digestive tract (ain't nothing gonna be sticking in there for a while, I can tell you that).

No wonder it tasted so godawful!

Now I look at that photo of my pie with entirely different eyes. As Husband remarked, it looks kinda creepy. Like it's covered in assorted blood clots and small organs. Husband watches too much Walking Dead, but, nevertheless, that's exactly what it tasted like. Platelets. Vampires, take note.

So, no, I won't be sharing any recipes today. I'll stick to quince paste, thank you very much. If you want a bloody pie, blue teeth, and a non-stick colon for Halloween, you'll just have to go about it some other way.

School Garden Update: October 2014

This year's school garden saw a mix of success and failure. Many things thrived. The herbs flourished. The sungold tomatoes produced well. The nasturtiums blossomed all summer long. We had at least five pumpkins, though a couple were found smashed open. There were a wide variety of plants that we successfully started from seed. But it soon became clear that at least one deer family made the garden its primary food source for the summer. Here's what I learned.

Things Deer Love
Apple trees: leaves and bark
Cherry trees: leaves and bark (and fruit)
Strawberry plants: everything but the stems
Swiss chard: ditto
Kale: ditto
Cucumber: ditto
Green beans: ditto (with a strong preference for haricot verts)
Sweet potato leaves
Melon plant leaves
Pumpkin plant leaves
Carrot leaves
Beet leaves

FYI, it's hard for a plant to grow without leaves.

Things Deer Don't Seem to Care For
Tomato plants, thank god
Onions
Garlic
Eggplant
Herbs of any kind
Rhubarb
Snap peas
Radishes
Zucchini
Nasturtiums

The biggest tragedy was the plight of the apple trees. I had dug several deep holes and planted the rootstock, then lugged five gallon buckets of water over to their location every week all summer long because the hose didn't reach. They seemed to be thriving. Then I went to water them one day and found that all the leaves were stripped off and a lot of the bark. I strung up strong-smelling dryer sheets to dissuade the deer, changing the scent every few weeks to throw them off. A couple of leaves grew back, spotty and discolored, but then the deer came back and ate those, too. Both trees promptly died. It was heart-breaking after all that work.

Now I understand what I'm dealing with. I have to somehow learn to coexist with these eating machines. I have a few ideas, starting with this hoop-like structure with poultry netting that I built for what will be next year's greens bed.


Any other ideas are most welcome!

Chicken Enchiladas

I know, I know, my food styling has regressed to pre-2008 standards. But hungry kids have no patience for all that camera foolishness, and who could blame them?

We get lots of tomatillos in our farmshare in the fall, and salsa verde is what I always make with them. I'll branch out eventually, but in the meantime, the salsa itself is very versatile. You can eat it with tortilla chips as a snack, you can make a tortilla salad, you can serve it over roasted or pan-fried fish, you can slow-cook a pork shoulder in it, or you can make enchiladas. The kids won't come near a tomatillo with a ten-foot pole, but somehow they manage to eat their weight in chicken enchiladas. Go figure.

Chicken Enchiladas  

Make the salsa verde the day before so dinner comes together more quickly. If you have neither tomatillos nor time, you can substitute jarred salsa verde instead.

1-1½ lbs. tomatillos (about two pints)

1-2 chiles, like serranos or jalapeños

1 medium onion, chopped
1-2 Tbsp. chopped cilantro

Lime juice, to taste

½ tsp. kosher salt, or to taste
1 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1½ pounds chicken thighs
½ cup water
10-12 corn tortillas
½ cup shredded Cheddar cheese or Monterey Jack

Preheat the oven to 375°F. 

Remove the husks from the tomatillos and rinse off the sticky resin in warm water. Cut the tomatillos in half and place them cut-side down in a baking dish along with the whole chiles. Roast until soft, 20 to 30 minutes. Let cool slightly so you can handle them comfortably. Remove the stems from the peppers and transfer them and the tomatillos to a blender or food processor. Add the onion, cilantro, lime juice, and salt. Puree until smooth. Add a little water if necessary to keep everything moving. (At this point, you can cover and refrigerate until ready to use.)

In a large frying pan, heat the oil over medium-high heat until hot and shimmering. Season the chicken with salt and pepper, and then brown the chicken on both sides in two batches. Remove the chicken to a plate and pour the salsa verde into the hot pan, stirring and loosening up all the browned bits from the bottom of the pan. Stir in 1/2 cup of water. Add the chicken back to the pan, bring to a simmer, cover with a lid, and reduce the heat to medium-low. Simmer until the chicken is cooked through and tender, about 15 minutes for boneless chicken breasts, a little longer for chicken on the bone. Remove the pan from the heat and transfer the chicken to a plate. Shred the chicken into bite-sized pieces and remove the bones, if any. Stir in a little salsa verde to flavor and moisten the meat. Season with more salt and pepper if necessary.

To assemble, spoon a thin layer of sauce on the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish. Wrap the stack of corn tortillas in a damp paper towel and gently heat them in the microwave for a minute or two until warm and pliable. One at a time, spoon a line of chicken down the center of a tortilla, fold the sides around the filling, and place seam-side-down in the baking dish. Continue until you run out of ingredients or space (any leftover chicken filling can be used in burritos for lunches). Spread the remaining salsa verde over the top, being careful to cover every square inch of the tortillas so they won't be dry. Sprinkle with shredded cheese. Bake 10 to 15 minutes until the cheese is melted and the enchiladas are heated through. Serve with sour cream and a salad of your choice.

Local Ingredients:

Tomatillos, chiles, onion, cilantro: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Chicken: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA

Tortillas: Cinco de Mayo, Chelsea, MA

Cheese: Cabot, Cabot, VT


Black Walnut Cake

Remember how much I hated black walnuts, the wild relatives of regular English walnuts? And how I couldn't imagine anyone putting such a strong, weird flavor into dessert?

Well, look what I did: I turned them into dessert!

Don't blame me, blame the library sale. Last weekend, I grabbed my newly acquired copy of The Art of Pennsylvania Dutch Cooking, opened it up, and this was the first thing I saw:  


I had planned to make dinner, but instead I made cake. I mean, just look at that recipe headnote. A more enthusiastic endorsement I can't imagine (especially considering that all the other desserts in the book sounded a lot more delicious).

My family was away on an overnight, so there was no one around to stop me from stirring a bunch of funky nuts into an otherwise perfectly acceptable cake batter. The recipe called for baking the cake in two layers and frosting the whole thing with boiled icing. The cynic in me was still convinced that this concept couldn't possibly work for a nut that tastes like the inside of a toolbox, so it was just a question of how far I wanted to take this little adventure. Not as far as frosting, apparently. Instead, I baked the cake in a loaf pan figuring if things turned out badly, I could always try to pass it off as some kind of (disgusting) savory nut bread.

I was very skeptical, my friends. Verrrry skeptical. But you know what? It's actually really good. I've been eating this cake for breakfast all week.

Feeding My Book Habit

I was wandering around the local library the other day following signs for a book sale. When I finally found it, the woman at the table was apologetic: it was the last day and pretty picked over. She seemed worried I wouldn't be able to find anything I'd like. But I knew better. There's always something strange hiding away just for me.

Books were $5 per giant box. Over the course of an hour, I managed to fill up my box with all kinds of wonderful things and a few questionable ones, too. There was a mint condition Calvin and Hobbes book. Was this some kind of mistake? Who passes up a perfectly good Calvin and Hobbes book? There was a hardback copy of Robinson Crusoe with only a little water damage to the back end. I've started reading it to the kids before bed. The 11YO, who's already read it along with every other book in the library, interrupted to tell his brother the beginning is super-boring, but it's about to get awesome, just wait. 

For me, there was a hardcover copy of Feasts for All Seasons by De Groot, a collection of fantastical menus with seasonal recipes like roast venison with chocolate sauce. If I ever get around to making this dish, I know just the deer for the job (more updates on him later). I found a gardening book I sorely need, an untouched copy of The Best Food Writing 2011, and A Little Treasury of American Poetry published in 1948. I snapped up Barbara Kingsolver's debut novel The Bean Trees, which I'm enjoying. And then there were all the old, unphotogenic cookbooks, including The Art of Pennsylvania Dutch Cooking, which has not one, not two, but three recipes for Shoo-Fly Pie (recipes contain no actual flies, but do involve copious amounts of molasses and lard and therefore will be occupying my oven immediately).

There were books I judged purely on their cover, like The Hills at Home. I have no idea if I'm going to like this book or even read it, but I can stare at the cover art for hours.


I kept running across this one really old book with a blue fabric embossed cover and broken binding that I just wanted to hold. I couldn't even read the title it was so faded, and I couldn't find a title page, either. I put it back three times, but it kept jumping out at me so I finally just put it in my box. I didn't take a closer look until I got home and realized it's called Arthurian Romances by Chretien de Troyes. Great. Just what I need. Romance.

There were a bunch of other books, too. Only time will tell if they're worth keeping. Like the book of duets for saxophone and piano. Each kid plays one of those instruments, and even I've been known to tickle the ivories once in a while, if by tickle you mean pound them unmerciful when they don't do my bidding. I can tell you already, it's going to be one hell of a Christmas concert this year. Brace yourselves, grandparents!

But I'm so excited to keep exploring my box of books! I'm already marking my calendar for next year's library sale. I'll just have to make sure I go on the last day again so everybody goes through and gets rid of all the crap I don't want!

Some Wild Mushrooms I Found

Here's a cool mushroom I stumbled across last week: a lion's mane or bear's head tooth mushroom (Hericium americanum), a choice edible according to the books. I did not sample it as Husband was away on business and therefore unavailable to drive me to the ER should I have any sort of dramatic allergic reaction.

However, I did take home this little hen of the woods.


It's not the prettiest specimen I've ever found, but it was delicious nonetheless. Also, it was a manageable size so I didn't have to spend forever cleaning it.

Some other mushrooms I found:


A little gem-studded puffball.


Black trumpets. I don't even know how I saw these among all the leaf litter, but there they were, growing out of the moss right underneath my feet on the trail. Most of them looked partially desiccated and were loaded with grit. They're now fully dehydrating as we speak. I'm thinking maybe when I soak them to use for soup or risotto, I can pour off the flavorful liquid, leaving all the sediment behind.


Here are some remnants of a lobster mushroom. Have you ever seen these? They're bright reddish-orange on the outside, creamy white on the inside, like a lobster (hence the name). What's actually happening is that a type of parasitic mold (Hypomyces lactifluorum) infects a russula or lactarius mushroom, which gives it that unique color and improves the flavor of the host. For more information on this mushroom and its edibility, read this.


And, finally, a lovely chicken mushroom. It reminds me of a flamenco dress, with its cascading, brightly colored ruffles. Despite this being a delicious and popular edible, I learned from last year's chicken mushroom that my heart races for 24 to 36 hours after eating it, so I really ought to stay away. Allergies to wild mushrooms are very common, so, when sampling something new, always start with just a little and wait 24 hours to see how you react.

Disclaimer: I am not a mushroom expert. I'm just a passionate amateur. Do not use me as your primary source. Do not eat a whole bunch of mushrooms just because they kinda look like one of my photos. And, if you do, do not forward me your hospital bills. Buy some mushroom books and join a local mushrooming club so you can get some hands-on experience with experts in your area. Then enjoy the woods!

Unexpected Trout

We recently went camping at Cape Cod's Nickerson State Park. The weather was unbelievably gorgeous, an extension of the flawless weather we had all summer: warm, dry, sunny. Such streaks make me feel like we're going to pay come winter. Think Pompeii, but with snow.

Meanwhile, back in paradise, Husband enjoyed fishing in the nearby pond, where he caught a pickerel and a rainbow trout.

Husband always throws the fish back after the obligatory Kodak moment, and they immediately dart away. But the trout was having issues. His hook had been stubbornly lodged and it was difficult to remove. I'll spare you the details, but he wasn't going to make it despite Husband's heroic attempts to revive him, stopping just short of mouth-to-mouth.

But we were camping, after all. I waited a few seconds out of respect before I brought up the concept of dinner. My kind-hearted husband looked mildly disgusted, but, I mean, the fish was already dead. I can't think of any more appropriate camping food than local trout. Sure, I'd just driven to the local fish market and bought a couple of swordfish steaks and a pound of mussels for the grill, but, you know, free trout!

I carried the fish back to the campsite in a bucket. I cleaned and gutted the fish, removing the gills and the blood line along the backbone, and then stuffed the cavity with lemon slices and herbs. Then we grilled it whole over the campfire. It took a little time to remove all the bones in the dark with my miner's headlamp, but the meat was mild and tasty, and went nicely with a green salad.

We enjoyed our swordfish and mussels, too, but perhaps next time I'll wait until Husband is done with his fishing before I run off for provisions!