FOOD ON THE FOOD

Sugared Cranberries

It doesn’t really feel like the holiday season quite yet. The temperature seems too warm, the Halloween candy is still plentiful, and our pumpkins are in various states of non-frozen decomposition on the front stairs.  (For those of you following along on Husband’s Facebook page, our Jack-o’-lantern’s disgusting metamorphosis is finally complete—or is it?)

But now comes the scariest time of the year: holiday shopping season. It puts Halloween to shame. I shan’t be leaving the house until December 26. God help them if the kids outgrow their shoes during that time. Sorry, kids, no way am I going to Target today. Just wear socks and sandals. Oh, it’s snowing out? Tie a bread bag around each foot, you’ll be fine.

I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that the perfect holiday gift is a mere click away. People always say they have too many cookbooks, but they don’t really mean it. True, they might not be willing to buy one for themselves, but they will always happily accept one under the tree. Trust me. And don’t forget your Aunt Mildred. She seems like a Wintersweet kind of gal, and she’s very sorry for what she said about you that time she got into the cordial!


Sugared Cranberries  

These festive treats are sweetly tart and fun to eat. Use the freshest, bounciest cranberries you can find—not frozen.

1 cup fresh cranberries, washed, picked over
1 cup water
1 cup granulated sugar, plus 1/3 cup for coating
2 strips orange peel (no white pith)

Set the cranberries aside in a small glass bowl. In a medium saucepan, stir the water, 1 cup of sugar, and the orange peels together over medium heat until the sugar dissolves. Bring the syrup to a bare simmer and remove from heat. Let the syrup cool 2-3 minutes, and then pour it over the cranberries. Set a small bowl on top of the cranberries to submerge them. Cover the bowls and refrigerate for 8 hours or overnight.

Strain the cranberries and set them on a plate. Remove the orange peels, cut into thin strips, and add to the berries. Sprinkle about 3 tablespoons of sugar over the berries, a little at a time, tossing well to coat. Let dry for 2 hours. Sprinkle another 1-2 tablespoons of sugar over them, rolling the berries until well coated. Let dry another hour before serving. Store uncovered at room temperature for 1-2 days.

Source: From Wintersweet by Tammy Donroe Inman (that's me!)

Smoked Bluefish

Earlier this summer, we were hanging out at Nickerson State Park by one of the kettle ponds. Husband’s brother was in town from Colorado, and the men were fishing while the boys and I swam. When we reconvened on the beach, an older man noticed the fishing poles and started talking to us. He’d brought his family to that campground every year for the past 20 years, and they liked to smoke trout, salmon, bluefish, whatever they could get their hooks or hands on from the nearby waters. Then he proceeded to outline his entire smoking process in great detail. An old Russian recipe, he said.

You can imagine how excited I was by this point in the conversation. Forget salmon, my head was swimming with notions of smoked bluefish. I had no note-taking apparatus apart from my feeble brain, but I wrote down as much as I could remember once we got back to our cottage rental. This is exactly the kind of puzzle I like to solve. A bunch of clues to work with, some mysterious unknowns, and the vague promise of dinner.

Back home with my charcoal grill, I got right down to business. The recipe below is what I did. It’s not an exact replica of that old family recipe, but a close accounting of what I remember from the conversation, plus some smoking tips from the Internet (specifically Dave’s Cupboard, Barefoot Kitchen Witch, and Hunter Angler Gardner Cook), and my own personal additions. No smoker necessary. The technique is for a regular old charcoal grill. The resulting fish came out so well, I couldn’t even believe it. Neither could Husband. It was great smoky fun for an afternoon (and evening, as I found myself outside in the dark at 9 pm with a headlamp unsure of how to tell when the fish was done).

A hearty thank you to the man on the beach. I hope he will forgive me—I don’t think we ever exchanged names, but I owe him a bottle of vodka.


Smoked Bluefish

This works for salmon, trout, or whatever other fish you feel like smoking. For wood chips, my source recommended alder, but I couldn’t find it so I used hickory instead.

Brine
1 quart cold water
1/2 cup kosher salt
1/4 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. lemon juice
1 tsp. black peppercorns
2 bay leaves

1-lb. fillet of bluefish (or more!)
Freshly ground black pepper
4 cups wood chips (like alder, hickory, or apple), soaked in water

In a large baking dish or gallon-size resealable storage bag, stir together all the brine ingredients until the salt dissolves. Rinse the fish well and submerge it in the brine. Refrigerate 4-48 hours until ready to smoke. The brine adds flavor and keeps the fish moist during the smoking process, not to mention helping with preservation.

Pat the fish dry and let it sit in the refrigerator for several hours so the surface dries out further. This step enables the smoke to adhere to the outside of the fish forming a flavorful pellicle. That’s what they call the shiny, dark, lacquer-like surface of properly smoked fish. I’ve read that you know your fish is dry enough when the surface feels slightly tacky, but mine never felt more than just dry and it came out fine. The point is, you don’t want to smoke a wet piece of fish or it won’t turn out as smoky as you want.

Smoke the fish at 200°F for the first hour, then 150°F for the next 2-3 hours until done. For a charcoal grill, you need to get your coals started at least an hour ahead of time, maybe two, in order to give them time to cool to the right temperature. I filled my chimney starter less than halfway up, lit them, let them ash over for 20 minutes, then spread the ashy coals on one side of the grill. I replaced the grate, adjusted the bottom vent so it was halfway closed, and replaced the lid, making sure the top vent was fully open. I inserted a thermometer through the top vent to keep track of the temperature, and when it was 225°-230°F, I added 6 or 7 more coals, and a handful of wet wood chips over the top. Then I sprinkled black pepper over the fish and put it on the other side of the grate away from the coals for indirect heat, skin side down, and closed the lid.

I watched the temperature creep slowly back up to around 200°F. Then I’d check the heat every 15 or 20 minutes. If it went over 200°F, I’d close the bottom vent a bit. If it got too cool, I’d open the bottom vent a bit. (If you close the bottom vent entirely, you’ll put the fire out, so open up the lid and double check that the vent is still partly open if you're not sure.) When the smoke stopped coming out of the top vent, I added a handful of wood chips on top of the coals. Every hour or so, I added more new coals to the pile to keep the heat going. Oh yeah, and you want to do all this while opening the grill lid as infrequently as possible to prevent the giant influxes of oxygen that stoke the heat. There’s an art to this, and I’m still learning, but this worked for me. The heat stayed between 150°F and 220°F for four hours, until the fish felt firm but not dried out like jerky. For food safety reasons, you want the internal temperature of the fish to reach 160°F at some point in the cooking process. Consider that my disclaimer.

Smoked fish will last up to 2 weeks in the fridge, but ours was gone long before then. Eat it on toasted baguette with goat cheese, red onion, capers, and dill. Flake it onto salads. Make a sandwich. Or paté. Mix it with pasta. Serve it over curried rice. It’s delicious!

Maple Balsamic Slow-Cooker Ribs

I was all ready to pack the slow-cooker away to prove that, yes, winter is finally over now that it's May, but then I remembered: We still have another month of baseball and soccer ahead of us. A whole month of practices and games, 80% of which eat into the weekday dinner hours. Maybe I shouldn't be so hasty. Crockpots aren't just for the winter, after all. With a little advanced planning, they can save us from the temptation to eat from the concession stand three to four nights a week instead of having a proper meal. Which is something I would totally do and then not tell you.

So here's one of those 8 o'clock post-game meals the kids loved. Serve these tender, sticky, sweet and sour ribs with leftover mashed potatoes and microwave peas (for example) and you'll have dinner on the table in under 20 minutes. That's enough time for both kids to emerge from the shower squeaky clean and willing to eat whatever you put in front of them. Especially when it's awesome.


Maple Balsamic Slow-Cooker Ribs    

Throw the ribs in the crockpot before work and then finish them in the oven right before dinner so you get the best of both worlds: the tenderness of long, slow cooking combined with high heat caramelization.

1 3-lb. rack of spare ribs, cut between the ribs into 4 slabs
Salt and black pepper to taste
6 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed
2 bay leaves
1 sprig fresh sage
1 cup water
1/3 cup maple syrup, preferably Grade B
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp. soy sauce
1-inch piece of fresh ginger, smashed
1/4 tsp. salt
1/4 tsp. black pepper

Blot the ribs dry with paper towels and sprinkle both sides generously with salt and pepper. Arrange 4 of the garlic cloves in the bottom of the slow-cooker along with the bay leaves and sage. Set the ribs on top, overlapping slightly. Pour in the water. Cover the pot and cook on low for 6 to 8 hours or on high from 4 to 6 hours until the meat is very tender and threatening to fall right off the bone (times may vary).

Twenty minutes before serving, combine the maple syrup, balsamic vinegar, soy sauce, remaining 2 cloves of garlic, ginger, salt, and pepper in a small pot. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the mixture thickens slightly, 5 to 7 minutes.

Preheat your broiler on high. Carefully remove the ribs from the crockpot and arrange on a rimmed baking sheet. Brush one side with the sauce and broil about 2 minutes until glazy and caramelized but not burned. Keep a close eye on the meat as broiler times may vary. Remove the pan from the oven, flip the meat carefully, and brush the other side with sauce. Again, broil 2 minutes. If you have any sauce left, you can flip once more, apply the glaze, and broil for one minute longer, but you don't want to dry out the meat, so leave it at that. Let cool slightly. Serves 4.

Local Sources:
Pork: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Maple syrup: Williams Farm Sugarhouse, Deerfield, MA

Chicken Pot Pie

Hey, everyone, it's March 14th, which means it's Pi Day! Enjoy your allotted 3.14 pieces of pie. The great thing about a non-repeating number that never ends is that you can always have a tiny bit more pie, mathematically speaking, so enjoy the loophole while you can!

In honor of the day, I have a pie recipe for you. That's two in one week if you count the chocolate tart. The inspiration for this chicken potpie came from Joanne Chang's new cookbook, Flour, Too. If you don't know who Joanne Chang is, then you must not be from Boston because if you were, you would know her bakery and you would know it well. It's paradise. Especially when you're walking from the ICA in the fricking freezing cold with the horrible, horrible wind. The whole place just swaddles you with warmth and butter.

I pulled this potpie filling straight from the book (actually, it's chef Cory Johnson's recipe). But I already had some of my own pie dough in the fridge, so I used that instead of the cookbook version. It's a dough I've been playing around with that has cornmeal and buttermilk. The other difference is that I only had enough dough for the top crust, so I didn't bother with the bottom crust. The crisp, flaky top is the best part anyway. Plus then I didn't have to do any blind-baking (score!). If you want the full Flour recipe, well, you'll have to buy the book. But if you're willing to slum it with the likes of me, here's what I did. It's still pretty awesome.

 

Chicken Potpie    

If you just want a regular pie crust, no funny buttermilk-cornmeal business, just omit the cornmeal and sub in icy cold water for the buttermilk.

Crust
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup fine cornmeal
1/2 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces
3 to 5 tablespoons buttermilk

Filling
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 medium onion, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 large carrot, peeled and thinly sliced
1 celery stalk, thinly sliced
1 small russet potato, unpeeled and cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 pound boneless, skinless chicken breasts, cut into 1-inch pieces
5 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1-1/2 cups chicken stock
1 cup frozen peas
2 teaspoons chopped fresh thyme
1-1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
2 tablespoons heavy cream

For the crust, add the flour, cornmeal, sugar, and salt to the bowl of a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter pieces and pulse in 1-second beats until you have chunks of butter the size of peas, 8 to 10 pulses. Add 3 tablespoons of buttermilk through the feed tube, and pulse until the dough starts to clump. If it doesn't clump after 12 pulses, add a little more buttermilk, pulsing the motor after each addition, until the mixture clumps together. (You can also cut the butter into the dry ingredients with an electric mixer, a pastry blender, or your fingers. Add the buttermilk in increments, fluffing with a fork, until the dough holds together when pressed.) Dump the dough onto the counter and form it into a ball. Flatten it into a disk about 3/4-inch thick and wrap it in plastic wrap. Let the dough rest in the refrigerator for 30 minutes.

For the filling, heat the butter in a large saucepan over medium-high heat until it foams. Add the onion and cook for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring occasionally, until it softens a bit. Add the carrot, celery, and potato and sauté, stirring, for 4 to 5 minutes until the vegetables start to soften. Add the chicken and continue to cook for another 2 to 3 minutes, stirring, until the chicken pieces start to turn opaque. Stir in the flour, mixing to coat all of the meat and vegetables, and cook 2 to 3 minutes longer. By this time, the filling will start to look a bit sludgy and a brown film should be forming on the bottom of the pan. Add the stock and bring to a simmer. Add the peas, thyme, salt, pepper, and cream and stir well. Simmer, scrapping up the browned bits clinging to the bottom of the pan, for about 5 minutes or until the filling thickens. Remove from the heat and spoon into a 9-inch pie plate or other similarly sized casserole dish.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Roll out the dough on a well-floured surface into a circle about 1/4-inch thick and at least 10 inches in diameter. With a bench scraper or spatula, flip one side of the dough over the top of the rolling pin, gently loosening the dough if it sticks to the counter, until it is fully draped over the pin. Center the dough over the filling and unfurl. Gently tuck the edges of the dough down into the gap between the filling and the sides of the plate to enclose. Crimp the edges decoratively if you want or leave as is. Cut a few steam vents into the dough with a paring knife. Place the pie on a baking sheet to catch any overflow. Bake for 30 to 45 minutes on the top rack of the oven until the crust is golden brown and the filling is bubbly. Remove from the oven and let sit for 15 minutes before serving. Pie will keep for several days covered in the fridge. To reheat, I actually lift off the crust and heat it on a pan in the toaster oven and heat the filling separately in the microwave. Then I reassemble. That way, the crust is nice and crisp instead of soggy.

Source: Filling adapted from Flour, Too by Joanne Chang

Local Ingredients:
Chicken: Chestnut Farm, Hardwick, MA
Carrots: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Buttermilk: Kate's, Old Orchard Beach, ME
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA

Parsnip Soup and Righteous Clichés

I have a milestone birthday coming up this year, like many of my friends. And as much as I'll be glad to reach it, I'm also bummed out about this whole aging thing.

You know what I'm talking about. Back in high school, everything is poised to get better. The braces will be pried off soon. The glasses can be traded in for contact lenses, maybe even the kind that turn your muddy eyes a cool shade of aquamarine like a mood ring. You're finally easing up on all the Aqua Net (step away from the can of hairspray, Tammy). The ugly duckling becomes a swan and all that crap. Meanwhile, you're making a little cash throwing together sandwiches on the weekends and you feel real smart with that diploma in your hand.

The world is yours for the taking!

In high school, you can't wait for college. In college, you look forward to getting out of college because all this studying is putting a damper on your social life. Plus, you want a fun job with a decent paycheck. You want a mode of transportation besides your own two feet. Dates at fancy restaurants. A place to live that's not a dump. Vacations. Soon you have some stuff, and you like your stuff, but you want something more. You want love. You want a family of your own. Then you get a family of your own and, for the whole first year, you can't believe what a horrible mistake you've made. No more dates at fancy restaurants. Your place becomes a dump. Vacations take on an entirely new and unwelcome meaning. Sometimes you wish you'd just stayed home.

But then you learn to stop being so selfish all the time and things gets better. Your family becomes your whole life. Does anyone else have kids as awesome as yours? NO WAY! IMPOSSIBLE! And then you realize something. Your kids are halfway through their childhood already. They're going to spend the whole second half hating you. And then they're going to leave.

They say you get better with age, but in what way specifically? Nicer? I don't think so. If anything, I'm getting more crotchety and even less charitable behind the wheel of a car. Wiser? Uh-uh. By my calculations, I'm getting stupider by the day. I've always been a wee bit forgetful, but this is ridiculous. I left my coat somewhere last week. At the library? At Walgreens? Where? How did I not notice my coat was missing? True, it felt colder, but all that ran through my head was: That's New England for you. One minute you're toasty warm in your nice winter jacket and the next minute you're shivering by the parking meters fumbling for change while the icy wind sucker punches you in the spleen and there's no logical explanation for it whatsoever. (I still haven't found it, by the way. My coat. It's puffy and gray with a big hood.)

The other night I looked in the mirror and realized that it's all downhill from here. This is as smart/healthy/attractive as I will ever be for the whole rest of my life. And, I'll be honest, the bar didn't seem very high.

Is this what a midlife crisis looks like?

Spring Parsnip Soup     

This recipe is stupefyingly simple. I don't even use stock anymore, just water. It's silky and surprisingly sweet. Snip a few chives on top and you have something tasty and healthful to warm you up on a chilly spring day when your coat is nowhere to be found.

1 Tbsp. unsalted butter
1 medium onion, chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
3 cups water (or veggie stock)
1 pound parsnips, peeled, cored*, diced
Salt and pepper

Melt the butter in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat. Sauté the chopped onion and celery for 4 to 5 minutes until soft and translucent. Don't let the vegetables brown. Add the garlic and sauté for 15 seconds until fragrant. Add the water or stock and the parsnips. Bring to a boil. Reduce the heat and simmer until the parsnips are soft, 15 to 20 minutes. Let cool and purée in a blender or with a stick blender until perfectly smooth. Season with salt and pepper. Serves 2 or 3. The recipe can be doubled (just be sure to purée the soup in half-batches if using a blender).

*Some parsnips have a woody central core that runs from top to bottom. To remove it, I usually just slice the peeled sides right off the core, which is a slightly different color. (Then chop up the sides and discard the core.) But if you're not sure exactly where or how big the core is, you can also quarter the parsnip the long way. Then you can see it a lot better. Just trim along the interior edge of each quarter with a paring knife to remove it.

Goat Cheese Ice Cream

I love the public library for many reasons, one of which is free access to a huge collection of cookbooks. I take great pleasure in parasitizing old and new releases alike, serendipitously latching onto a select few food titles and not letting go. Sometimes they're not exactly what I expected once I get them home, but other times, they're so much more.

Such was Rustica: A Return to Spanish Home Cooking. I have a soft spot for Spain, having spent a formative period of my life exploring its less famous corners. The food in this cookbook is not necessarily the food I remember. It's more the style of the food that strikes me now, so in tune it is with the seasons and the local bounty. Not everything appeals to me (Cold octopus terrine? No, thank you.), but much of it does. White beans with wild mushrooms. Shrimp fritters. Simple tomato salad. Quince pies with ricotta and honey. I ended up flagging so many pages that I finally made Husband buy it for me for Valentine's Day (nothing spells love like a list of demands).

Last week, I made the goat cheese ice cream (helado de queso de cabra). I spooned some dried cherries soaked in anisette over the smooth, rich custard. Whoa. This ain't ice cream cone material. Save it for something special. One small scoop in a fancy bowl with a spoonful of cherries is all you need. Amazing!


Goat Cheese Ice Cream with Dried Cherries and Anisette     

The original recipe called for fresh cherries, but, since they're out of season at the moment, I substituted dried tart cherries and macerated them in anisette. It's lovely, but if you're not fond of anisette's licorice flavor, feel free to substitute brandy, red wine, or water.

5 large egg yolks
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 1/2 cups heavy cream
8 oz. soft goat cheese, crumbled
3 oz. dried cherries
4 oz. anisette

In a large bowl, mix the egg yolks and sugar until combined. (Save the leftover egg whites in the freezer for macaroons or pavlovas.)

Pour the cream into a small saucepan and heat it over medium heat. As soon as it comes to a boil, remove the pan from the heat. Gradually whisk about 1/2 cup of the hot cream into the egg mixture to temper the eggs and prevent them from scrambling. Slowly whisk the egg mixture into the pot of cream. Heat the mixture over medium-low heat for about 5 minutes, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon, until it thickens enough to coat the back of the spoon. Do not let it boil. Remove the pan from the heat and stir in the goat cheese. Let cool completely. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions. Pour into a container and freeze until scoopable, 6 to 8 hours.

For the cherry topping, simmer the dried cherries in the anisette in a small saucepan for 4 to 5 minutes, or until the cherries are soft and the liquid is reduced to a syrup. Remove from the heat and chill until cold. (I like the resulting subtle anise flavor, but for a stronger hit, add a splash of anisette off the heat.) Serve a scoop of ice cream with a tablespoon or two of cherries and syrup drizzled over the top.

Source: Adapted from Rustica: A Return to Spanish Home Cooking by Frank Camorra and Richard Cornish

Local Ingredients:
Goat cheese: Vermont Butter & Cheese Creamery, Websterville, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Eggs: Chip-In Farm, Bedford, MA

Autumn Vegetable Cobbler with Cheddar Crust

The temperature is dropping, my fridge is full of root vegetables, my counters piled high with squash: it's about time I shared with you my new favorite fall dish!

I'm calling it a cobbler, because I'm still in dessert mode, but it's basically a vegetarian pot pie or savory casserole. Tender chunks of autumn vegetables scented with tomato, garlic, and marjoram are topped with a cheddar biscuit crust. I used carrots, celery root, and acorn squash, but you could sub in a parsnip or two for some of the carrots, and use any other kind of winter squash you like. This recipe is based on one from Bistro Cooking at Home, a book written by Boston's own Gordon Hamersley. I had many a fine meal at Hamersley's Bistro back in the day when I wrote the food column for the South End News. Since then, this book has allowed me to engage in a little fine dining without having to pay for a babysitter or try to remember where the hell to park (reminder to self: NOT on Washington Street).

Anyway, this dish isn't fussy, but it does require a fair amount of cooking time to get those veggies to be so meltingly tender. Plan accordingly. I've had several requests for the recipe at a recent dinner party, so here it is.

Autumn Vegetable Cobbler with Cheddar Crust (print-friendly version)

Don't be alarmed by the amount of liquid you add to the vegetables. It looks like too much, but it's not. Trust me, it will absorb and thicken into a lovely gravy-like sauce. I think fresh marjoram is absolutely perfect here, but you could also use fresh thyme or a teaspoon or so of dried marjoram, thyme, or oregano. 

Filling
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 red onion, cut into 1-inch pieces
3 medium carrots, cut into 1-inch rounds
1 medium celery root, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
1 acorn squash, peeled and cut into 1-inch pieces
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
1 cup dry white wine
3 tablespoons tomato paste
3 cups water (or veggie or chicken stock)
1 tablespoon chopped fresh marjoram
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Topping
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon plus 1 teaspoon baking powder
6 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
1 to 1-1/3 cups heavy cream
1-1/2 teaspoons finely chopped garlic
Pinch of coarsely ground black pepper
1/2 cup grated sharp Cheddar cheese (not shredded--you want small flecks)

Heat the oven to 400°F. In a large sauté pan, heat half of the oil and half of the butter over medium-high heat. Add the onions, carrots, and celery root, and cook, stirring occasionally, until the vegetables are browned, about 7 minutes. Transfer the cooked vegetables to a 13x9-inch casserole dish or roasting pan. Melt the rest of the oil and butter in the hot skillet. Add the acorn squash and sauté until lightly browned, about 7 minutes. Stir in the garlic and cook for another couple of minutes, then add to the casserole dish.

Increase the heat to high and add the white wine, tomato paste, and water (or stock) to the sauté pan. Bring to a boil, scraping up the browned bits stuck to the bottom of the pan, lower the heat, and simmer for about 3 minutes. Add this liquid to the casserole, sprinkle with marjoram, and season with salt and pepper to taste. Cover with aluminum foil and bake until the vegetables are just tender, about 30 minutes.

While the vegetables are baking, make the topping. In a food processor, whiz together the flour, salt, and baking powder until combined. Add the butter cubes and pulse until the mixture resembles a coarse meal (20 to 30 pulses). Empty the contents into a bowl and stir in 1 cup of cream, garlic, and pepper. If the mixture is too dry, add more cream. Mix in the grated cheese just until it holds together. Let rest. (You can also make the biscuits by hand, cutting in the butter with two knives or a pastry cutter.)

Remove the veggies from the oven and take off the foil. Using a large spoon, dot the surface of the vegetables with Ping-Pong ball-sized dollops of biscuit dough. The topping should be lumpy and bumpy. Return the casserole to the upper third of the oven and bake, uncovered, until the topping is cooked and browned, about 25 minutes. Let cool 10 minutes before serving.

Source: Adapted from Bistro Cooking at Home by Gordon Hamersley and Joanne McAllister Smart.

Local Ingredients:
Onion, carrots, celery root, squash, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA
Butter, cheddar: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Marjoram: My plant that I somehow managed not to kill this year

Labor Day Pulled Pork

Okay, people, I've been wanting to share this recipe with you for years, and I can't wait any longer! I had hoped to get better at barbecuing first. I've been waiting and waiting until I could competently maintain low, smoldering coals for six hours at a time without letting the fire go out. But it always goes out. Then I overcompensate by building a flaming inferno that rages on seemingly forever, until I grow bored and start doing something else, and then the fire goes out again. It would seem I don't have enough stamina for the slow-burning fire marathon that is southern barbecue. I can get the coals really, really hot or really, really cold. There is no in-between.

Cue crockpot!

I was skeptical the first time I made pulled pork in a slow cooker. Wouldn't it be a shadow of its barbecued self? But you know what? It's great! It's fantastic! On a scale of 1 to 100, awesome minus 2 is still awesome! Yes, it's not as wood-smoky as it otherwise would be. I added a little smoked paprika to the spice rub to help out with that. Yes, it still takes a looong time to cook, but you don't have to DO anything. No coals to tend, nothing. It cooks all day while the cook's away/at play/on the bidet.

This time, I cooked up two pork roasts at the same time. I knew we'd eat it all and we did. The 9YO is over the moon for this stuff, and ate three big piles of pulled pork after deciding the roll was interfering with the full meat experience. Then he threatened to sneak downstairs at midnight and eat some more. He won't get too far, though, because my money's on Husband to beat him there, hiding in a dark corner of the dark kitchen, hissing, eyes aglow like a startled raccoon. Me, I won't try to compete. I can eat all the pulled pork I want in my dreams and never have to leave the bed!

So, it's up to you this Labor Day if you want to cue up the BBQ and do some actual labor or cue up the crockpot and labor ironically. Either way, you're in for some good eating!

Cheater's North Carolina-Style Pulled Pork (print-friendly version)

Start the night before by applying the dry rub and shaking together the barbecue sauce for best results. However, I've thrown it all together that morning and it still comes out great. I'm partial to the vinegar-based barbecue sauce for which North Carolina is known, but if you have your own favorite sauce, feel free to sub it in. Serve on a roll with coleslaw!

Sauce
1/2 cup apple cider vinegar
1/2 cup white vinegar
2 teaspoons light brown sugar
1/8 to 1/4 teaspoon ground cayenne
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon black pepper

Rub
1 tablespoon paprika (I like to go half and half with sweet and smoked paprika)
1 tablespoon kosher salt
1/2 tablespoon black pepper
1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon ground cayenne
3- to 5-pound pork shoulder or Boston butt, bone in or out
1 tablespoon vegetable oil (optional)

Shake together all the sauce ingredients in a mason jar until the salt dissolves. Refrigerate.

Mix all the spices together in a small bowl. Dry off the meat with paper towels and rub the spice mixture all over. Wrap tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight. If you don't have that kind of time, proceed to the next step.

In a large Dutch oven or other heavy-bottomed pan, heat the oil until hot. Brown the meat on all sides to get a tasty outer crust. Again, if you're in a hurry, you can skip this step. (It does make it better, though.)

Transfer the meat to a slow cooker. Pour about 1/2 cup of the barbecue sauce over the meat. Cover and cook 4 to 6 hours on high or 8 to 10 hours on low. The meat should be very tender when poked. Remove it to a cutting board. Pour the liquid in the slow-cooker into a measuring cup and let it sit undisturbed. Shred the meat with a fork, pulling it apart and place it in a large bowl. Pour off the fat from the top of the liquid in the measuring cup, and reserve the dark sauce below. Pour a few tablespoons of the dark sauce over the meat and toss (not too much, as it can be salty from the rub).

Make sandwiches by piling pulled pork onto bulky rolls, dressing with the remaining barbecue sauce or more of the brown pan drippings, and topping with homemade coleslaw.

The Barbecue Method

If you want to try your hand with the barbecue, here are my notes. This should work, theoretically, if you're diligent about adding enough coals every hour. It does take some practice, but if the fire does go out, just throw it in the slow cooker on high and call it a day!

Soak 4 cups of wood chips in water for 30 minutes (I use hickory). Preheat the grill (I use a chimney starter filled 3/4 of the way up with charcoal, bottom stuffed with newspaper, and lit from underneath with a match). Once the coals are ashy (about 20 minutes), dump them onto the bottom grate on one side of the grill. Place the cover on the grill, poke a thermometer through one of the holes in the vent, and close the vent a bit to get the temperature down to 300°F. Once there, add some soaked wood chips to the coals and replace the top grate.

Add the meat to the grill on the opposite side as the coals. Try to maintain a grill temperature between 200° and 225°F. Don't let the fire go out (haha, have fun with that!). To get the temperature higher, open the vent more. To get the temperature lower, close the vent more. Every hour, add 10 or so more coals and another handful of wood chips (grill grates often have hinges that allow you to lift up one side to add more coals/chips). Baste the meat with barbecue sauce and replace the cover immediately. Smoke 5 to 6 hours. When the meat is tender and nearly falling apart (an internal temperature of 190° to 195°F), remove the meat from the grill. Let rest. Shred the pork.

Local Ingredients:
Pork: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA

Stir-Fried Indian Cabbage

When I went through and categorized all of the recipes on this site a few months ago, I was shocked—shocked, I say—to discover that the Indian category was so empty. I mean, we're not having Indian food every night, but there are definitely a few dishes that come up over and over in the rotation (if you can call my whim-based menu-planning a rotation). Vikram Vij's goat curry is one I want to post about in the cooler months because it is completely unbelievable, as well as a variation on Madhur Jaffrey's lamb korma, another personal favorite.

But today we're talking about cabbage. Because sometimes I get sick of coleslaw. Sometimes I just want something different, and the only way to make any serious headway through the piles and piles of shredded cabbage is to cook it down quickly with garlic and Indian spices until it's so fricking delicious, you just eat it like candy. And I haven't even gotten to the health benefits, which include, but are not limited to, cancer prevention and inflammation reduction. But that's not really why I eat it. I eat it because it's delicious. The rest is a perk.

This dish only takes 5 minutes on the range so it won't heat up the house too much. Serve it with chana masala (chick pea curry) with brown or basmati rice, and you've got yourself a meal!

Stir-Fried Indian Cabbage (print-friendly version)

Adjust the cayenne to your liking. The original recipe called for something like 1/2 teaspoon of cayenne, but that's too much for me, never mind the kids. But do put in at least a pinch.

2 Tbsp. canola oil
1/2 tsp. mustard seeds
1/2 tsp. ground turmeric
1 lb. green cabbage, thinly sliced (about 1/2 head)
2 garlic cloves, peeled, smashed with the side of a knife
1 teaspoon salt
1/8 tsp. ground cayenne

Heat the oil in a large frying pan or wok over high heat. When super-hot, add the mustard seeds and cover with a splatter screen or lid to keep the seeds from flying out. When the seeds stop sputtering, add the turmeric, cabbage, garlic, salt, and cayenne. Toss well. Stir-fry until the cabbage is crisp-tender, 2 to 3 minutes.

Source: Adapted from 5 Spices, 50 Dishes by Ruta Kahate.

Local Ingredients:
Cabbage, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Waffles –or– Overcoming Fear of Electricity

Sometimes you have to eat waffles for breakfast AND dinner. Like yesterday!

Husband's vintage waffle iron has been sitting unused for more than a decade. Why? Because I didn't have a decent waffle recipe. And because I'm really afraid of his vintage waffle iron. I don't like that the electrical wiring is visible and situated so close to non-removable parts that require washing. Water is an excellent conductor of electricity, as you know. I am aware that "technically" I won't be electrocuted while washing the waffle iron as long as it's not plugged in, and I know it's not plugged in because I checked it 50 times, and there isn't even an electrical outlet near the sink. BUT STILL, my mental danger bells keep ringing so loudly, over and over again, that I don't even feel like making homemade waffles anymore I have such a headache.

But all that changed thanks to one recipe. And it came from a book that I think you should know about, The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying and Start Making by Alana Chernila. I'll be raffling off a copy this week, so stay tuned. I made the waffles for breakfast on Sunday morning, slathered them with butter, moistened them with just a bit of maple syrup, then piled strawberries and blueberries that we picked at Carver Hill Orchard on top along with some fresh whipped cream. Holy crap were they ever good. So good, in fact, that when we got back from the Red Sox game and I didn't want to make dinner, we just reheated the leftovers and had them AGAIN.

Take that, Danger Bells, it's double waffle time!!!

Waffles (print-friendly version)

Feel free to sub in half whole wheat flour if you like.

2 large eggs, separated
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
3/4 cup buttermilk, warmed
1 cup whole milk, warmed
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/2 tablespoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt

Preheat the oven to 200°F.

In a small bowl, whisk together the egg yolks, melted butter, buttermilk, milk, and vanilla. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. In another medium bowl, whip the egg whites several minutes with an electric mixer until they hold soft peaks that droop slightly when the beaters are lifted.

Stir the milk mixture into the flour mixture until combined. Stir in a big spoonful of beaten egg whites until incorporated. Then, with a flexible spatula, gently fold in the remaining egg whites.

Grease the waffle iron either with cooking spray or brush with oil. Scoop 1/2 to 2/3 cup of batter into the hot iron. Cook according to the manufacturer's instructions or until golden and crispy on the outside. Keep warm in a single layer on a sheet pan in the oven until ready to serve. Top with butter and maple syrup, or whatever fresh fruit is in season. Jam is also acceptable. Whipped cream doesn't hurt, either.

Source: Adapted from The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying and Start Making by Alana Chernila

Local Ingredients:
Eggs: Eric's Eggs, Starksboro, VT
Butter: Cabot, Cabot, VT
Buttermilk: Kate's Homemade Butter, Old Orchard Beach, ME
Milk, cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Berries: Carver Hill Orchard, Stow, MA

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.

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

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

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

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 discard. 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.

Spicy Eggplant Relish

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

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

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

Spinach, Chickpeas, and a Possible Anchovy Component

Are you getting bags and bags of greens in your CSA?  Here's a simple lunch you might enjoy: wilted spinach stewed briefly with chickpeas, garlic, and cumin.   It's a Spanish dish I gleaned from Ximena Maier's lobstersquad many years ago, around the time she drew my banner illustration.  This dish was something I often packed for lunch while substitute teaching because it's healthy and delicious lukewarm right out of my lunch bag.  And guess what?  It's even more delicious now that the school year is OVER!!!  WOOOOO!  YEAAAHHHH!!!!  TAKE THAT!!!!!!!

Anyway, I made this for lunch last week alongside marinated anchovies on slices of baguette.  These are not the incredibly salty anchovies that are listed on pizza menus or mashed into puttanesca sauce (which I also like), but rather fresh anchovies marinated in wine vinegar and then bathed in oil.   They're mild and almost refreshing.  You can find them in tapas bars all over Spain (called boquerones en vinagre), but also at Russo's in the refrigerated case near the smoked salmon.  They're great with beer.  And summer vacation!  Mark this combo down as one of my favorite lunches ever.


Spinach and Chickpeas with Garlic and Cumin

If I happen to have some olives kicking around, I might add those, too.

1 Tbsp. olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
½ tsp. cumin (or more)
1 14-oz. can chickpeas, drained, rinsed
½ cup tomato sauce
1 lb. spinach or Swiss chard, washed
2-3 drops Tabasco
A squeeze of fresh lemon juice
Salt and pepper to taste

Heat oil in a medium pan over medium heat and sauté onion until transparent, about 4 minutes.  Add garlic and cumin and cook another minute until fragrant.  Add chickpeas, tomato sauce, and spinach.  Cover pan and cook about 4-5 minutes.  Season with Tabasco, lemon juice, salt and pepper, and cook uncovered another minute until most of the excess liquid evaporates. 

Local Ingredients:
Spinach: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA

Rhubarb-Blood Orange Parfaits

Last year, I saw a sudden spike in my blog traffic and, come to find out, Tori Spelling had tweeted about my rhubarb pie post.  Yes, that Tori Spelling. 

It really threw me for a loop.  You mean to tell me the busty Beverly Hills 90210 teen star cooks?  With rhubarb?  And is able to spell it correctly?  These were the thoughts that instantly ran through my head, proving that not only am I a judgmental a-hole, but I also confuse actors with their television roles, despite knowing better, and simultaneously freeze them in time—say, 1992 in this case.  For all I know, the actual Tori Spelling of 2011 in whatever zip code she currently resides is super-smart and a fantastic cook and a warm and wonderful person unspoiled by wealth and fame.  And if that's true then fuck you, Tori Spelling.  You can't have rhubarb, too!  Save something for the rest of us!!!

Over here in Waltham 02453, my modest success this week was helping somebody who didn't like rhubarb to like rhubarb.  (My victories are small but sweet!)  The idea behind these rhubarb-blood orange parfaits is to layer lightly sweetened rhubarb compote with fresh whipped cream.  It's a lovely balance of sweet/tart, and a nice prelude to strawberry shortcake.   Keeping the layers separate provides more flavor contrast while folding them together mellows the rhubarb tang.  If you've ever heard of a dessert called a "fool," that's what it is: cooked, sweetened fruit lightened with whipped cream.  As in, I pity the fool that doesn't like rhubarb fool!  Anyway, I've been dying to try this with wild Japanese knotweed, but I keep missing the window of time when the shoots are young and tender.  Too busy chasing down mushrooms, I guess. 

What I'm trying to say is, Rhubarb Haters and/or Shannen Doherty, this one's for you! 

 

Rhubarb-Blood Orange Parfaits

You can use a regular orange, of course, but I found that the blood orange deepened the color of the fruit compote, making for prettier contrasting layers.

1-1/2 lb. rhubarb, washed, trimmed, cut into 1/2-inch pieces
1 cup sugar
1 medium blood orange, zested (about 1 tsp.) and juiced (2-3 Tbsp.)
1 tsp. vanilla
Pinch salt
2 cups heavy cream, cold

Place rhubarb in a medium saucepan with all but 1-2 Tbsp. of the sugar (reserve remaining sugar for whipped cream).  Add orange zest, juice, vanilla, and salt, and bring to a simmer over medium-high heat.  Reduce heat slightly and gently simmer 7-10 minutes until rhubarb is soft but still chunky.  Let cool.  Transfer to medium bowl and refrigerate several hours until chilled.

Just before serving, whisk the heavy cream in a medium bowl until the wires leave trails.  Add the remaining sugar and continue whisking until thick and an upswing of the whisk leaves medium peaks.  To assemble, layer rhubarb mixture and whipped cream in each of four bowls, beginning with rhubarb and ending with cream.  Serve immediately.

Source: Adapted from Raquel Pelzel.

Local Sources:
Cream: High Lawn Farm, Lee, MA
Bowl: The Concord Shop, Concord, MA

Goat Gyros

Okay, enough with my crazy mushroom obsession.  Time to get back to something a little more mainstream.  Like goat gyros!

Wait, don't leave!  Goat is good, I promise.  Remember that time I made Vikram Vij's goat curry and then never wrote out the recipe for you guys, apparently?  Well, it was really delicious, trust me.  So good that when goat came up in our Chestnut Farms meat CSA again, I dove for it.  This time it was ground goat, and I knew right away what I wanted to do with it.  Gyros! 

First things first: pronunciation.  You may, if you choose, mentally read the word gyro as "YEE-ro" with a Greek accent.  Or, you can do what I do and pronounce it "JAI-ro" because I'm never going to change.  Or, if you're too embarrassed to pronounce it in public at all, just make it yourself.  I mean, when it comes right down to it, a gyro is just a souped-up meatloaf sandwich.  One with slightly different flavorings and served in pita with lettuce, tomato, red onion, and a generous slathering of cool, creamy, garlicky tzatziki sauce.  But, still, a meatloaf sandwich nonetheless. 

My trusted Internet sources suggested that ground goat can be very lean, so I mixed it half and half with some ground pork.  It wasn't dry at all.  Feel free to substitute the goat/pork mixture with ground lamb (or ground beef, for that matter).  It was super tasty, but this sandwich will be to-die-for during the height of tomato season.  Mark it down!


Goat Gyros with Tzatziki

The meatloaf technique is borrowed from Alton Brown.  The water bath seems a little fussy for meatloaf, and I may throw caution to the wind next time and go without it, but I'm including it here anyway.  I mean really, Tammy, how hard is it to put water in a pan?   Get your yogurt draining several hours before you start unless you're using Greek-style yogurt.

1 lb. ground goat
1 lb. ground pork
1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic
1 Tbsp. dried marjoram
1 Tbsp. dried rosemary
2 tsp. kosher salt
1/2 tsp. ground black pepper

8 large whole pitas
Head of lettuce
4 tomatoes, diced 
Red onion, thinly sliced

Preheat oven to 325°F.

Process onion in the food processor until minced, 10-15 seconds.  Dump onion into center of a non-linty dishtowel.  Gather up the sides of the towel, twist, and squeeze hard over the sink until most of the juice is extracted.  Shake onion back into food processor and add ground meat, garlic, marjoram, rosemary, salt, and pepper, and process until pasty and gross, about 1 minute, scraping down the bowl halfway through.  Don't worry, it gets better.

Scrape meat mixture into a loaf pan, pressing it into the sides.  Place loaf pan in a larger roasting pan and fill that pan with water halfway up the sides.  Bake about an hour and change until it's cooked through and smells great.  Remove from oven and drain fat.  I took another loaf pan, set it on top of the meatloaf and put some heavy tomato cans inside to weigh it down (I did this instead of weighing it down with a foil-wrapped brick per the original recipe).  You could probably skip this step, too, if you wanted.  Let rest 15 minutes.  Slice for sandwiches.

To serve, nuke a stack of whole pita rounds for about 20 seconds until warm and bendable.  Line each with lettuce leaves.  Arrange your meat down the center (I find one or two slices broken up to be sufficient). Scatter diced tomatoes and sliced red onion, and spoon tzatziki sauce generously over it all.  Fold up an inch or two of the bottom of the pita and, while holding it in place, fold one side over, then the other.  Insert a toothpick or two in the bottom or wrap with foil.  Dollop a little extra tzatziki sauce on top and you're good to go.  When I reheat the leftover meat in the days that follow, I do so not in the microwave but in a pan with a little olive oil so I can brown each side while it heats.


Tzatziki Sauce

If using Greek-style yogurt, use maybe 1/4 less than the recipe calls for since you don't need to drain it. 

16 oz. plain yogurt
1 medium cucumber, peeled, seeded, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, finely minced
1 Tbsp. olive oil
2 tsp. red wine vinegar or lemon juice
1 Tbsp. fresh mint leaves, finely chopped
1/4 tsp. kosher salt

Place the yogurt in a cheesecloth- or tea towel-lined strainer over a bowl, and drain for two hours in the fridge.  Gather the chopped cucumber in another tea towel and squeeze over the sink to remove liquid.  In a medium bowl, combine drained yogurt, cucumber, garlic, olive oil, vinegar, mint, and salt.  Refrigerate until ready to use.

Wild Morels: How to Find Your Own

Wow, that is one phallic-looking mushroom!  But let's not get distracted.  I promised you hints for finding morels and hints you shall receive, at least for the yellow morel (Morchella esculenta).  Please note that these are only suggestions based on my own limited, amateur experience and, let's face it, a healthy dose of beginner's luck.  Still, they're better than nothing. 

Hint #1: THEY'RE OUT RIGHT NOW!!!  Late April through early June. 

Hint #2: You'll probably want to read some books before you go.  The field guide I have is the National Audubon Society Field Guide to North American Mushrooms.  This is the book I bring to the woods.  Another book I love is The Complete Mushroom Book by Antonio Carluccio, an Italian chef and forager.  It has great recipes and amazing photos.  Total mushroom porn.  This is the book that moves between the kitchen and the bedside table.  But the book that really made the idea of foraging for my own wild mushrooms accessible to a novice was Start Mushrooming, which was recommended by a Harvard-trained mycologist friend.  It teaches you how to identify six edible varieties of wild mushrooms safely.  Morels are one of them. 

Hint #3:  As far as habitat, I found my first two morels under a blossoming apple tree.  Old farms and apple orchards are prime hunting grounds.  Be sure to ask permission before foraging on private property.

Later, I found a bunch in the woods under what looked like a dead oak tree. 

Morels love dead elms and stressed-out ash trees, too, I hear.  Watch out for poison ivy.  Since morels are associated with the roots of certain trees, you'll often find more than one around the base of the trunk, sometimes as far as 10 feet out.  Mine were much closer. 

Morels seem to grow all over Massachusetts, but my luck turned when I headed away from the city a bit, say 30 minutes due west of Boston.  If you want ideas for trails, check out the Bay Circuit Greenway maps.

Look at this morel growing through a maple leaf.  Weird.

 

I also found a bunch of poisonous false morels on my trek, like the one below:

I didn't touch them.  They are the poisonous look-alikes that the experts warn you about.  I don't think this one really looks like a morel, though, do you?  I mean, something would have to be seriously wrong with that morel for it to be a morel.  Like if it were growing out of a toxic waste dump or something.  But false morels can look a lot more like true morels, as in this photo.  Can you tell the difference?   Real morels have more of a conical shape and a pitted, honeycomb appearance.  False morels tend to be wrinkled (as if deflated), misshapen, and brain-like in shape.  Another difference: real morels are completely hollow inside while false morels are chambered and often filled with a whitish, cottony material.  Cut your morels in half, top to bottom, to double check your answers. 

Finally, we come to the disclaimer portion of this post.  Here it is: Don't be an idiot.  Don't eat anything you're not 100% sure about.  Always cook morels thoroughly—never eat them raw as they contain a toxin that is deactivated with cooking.  Furthermore, some people have allergic reactions to certain mushrooms that are edible to the majority.  I am one such person.  So, if you've never had morels before, or any other wild mushroom, it's a good idea to start with a few bites and then wait 24 hours to see how things go digestively before you gorge yourself. 

Good luck on your morel hunt!  It's such a thrill to find them!

Mother's Day Morels

Guess who found morels on Mother's Day?  ME!  It was ME!!!  Seven of them!!!  Can you believe it??

Actually, I found more, but it's proper mushroom etiquette to leave some behind.  It was hard, but I did comply.  Barely.  Your next question, I'm going to guess, is where exactly I found these morels (especially if you arrived here by Googling "morels Massachusetts" or "morels Boston").  But I'm not telling you where I found them, so don't ask.  If you do ask, I'll be happy to draw you a perplexing map—one you will be unlikely to decipher since my sense of direction is terrible and I can't draw for shit.  However, if you do manage to figure it out, the trail will magically lead you to the morel bin at Russo's because why not just buy them from the store if you're going to have someone tell you exactly where to look.  That's missing the whole point: the thrill of the hunt!  You have to find your own spots.  I've clocked nearly a dozen hours in the woods over the last week and a half to find these and I've loved every second of it.  Except for the part where the mosquitos were biting me.  I didn't love that part.  But the rest was awesome and you'll love it, too.  (Just bring bug spray.)

Here I am cutting my very first morel with the pocketknife Husband gave me for Mother's Day.  I literally could not believe my eyes when I first spotted it.  I froze for a second, then began frantically fumbling around for my camera as if it would disappear at any moment.  Then I saw another one about a foot away.  The rest I found in another location.  Thank god nobody else was around to hear me giggling and talking to myself as I collected them.  I mean, except for the jogger who came charging up behind me out of nowhere.  (Dude, the next time you run up behind a woman like that in a completely isolated area, you might want to announce loudly and clearly that you're not a rapist or you're likely to get a pocketknife to the heart.)

When I brought the mushrooms home, the children were very excited and unanimously declared them to be "yellow morels, not black morels."  (They keep stealing all of my mushroom books.)  Husband insisted that I get a second opinion about the edibility of these mushrooms before I cooked them—a second opinion besides the children's.  I thought I might as well set a good example for you guys for a change, right?  So I grudgingly returned the stick of butter in my hand to the refrigerator and proceeded to contact Russ Cohen, local wild edibles guru.  He confirmed that they were, indeed, yellow morels.  Huzzah!  I'll let you imagine the seven-bite feeding frenzy that followed!

In my next post, I'll share some tips for finding your own morels as well as my favorite mushroom books.  And, yes, I'll get that post up this week, keep your pants on. 

Porchetta

Just in time for Easter, I've come up with a recipe for porchetta that reminds me of Nonni's.  If you don't know what a porchetta is (pronounced por-ketta), it's a pork roast rubbed with garlic, fennel seeds, black pepper, salt, and whatever else you fancy (I like rosemary).  It's popular in the Marches region of Italy, except I hear they do a whole pig roast over there.  I'd probably burn the whole neighborhood down if I tried that, so we just do a boneless shoulder.

Nonni bought her porchettas pre-rubbed from the local butcher in her later years, so a recipe never got passed down.  A few years back, I tried the recipe in the Zuni Café Cookbook, which was delicious but wasn't quite the same.  This is my attempt to recreate the flavor of those New Haven-style porchettas using the amazing pork from our Chestnut Farms meat CSA.  And, for the record, I LOVE our meat CSA.  Husband took one bite of this and said it was the best pork he ever had in his life!



Porchetta

Here's the secret: let the meat sit with the rub for 2-3 days in the refrigerator before roasting.  (If you start now, it'll be done by Sunday!)  The other not-so-secret secret: don't overcook the pork.

3-4 lb. boneless pork roast (or you can debone it yourself)
5 garlic cloves, peeled, minced fine
1-1/2 Tbsp. dried rosemary
1 Tbsp. fennel seeds, crushed
1 Tbsp. ground black peppercorns
2 tsp. kosher salt

In a small bowl, mix together the garlic cloves, rosemary, fennel seeds, pepper, and salt.  If your roast is tied, untie it or remove the netting.  Open up the meat to expose all of its inner surfaces and rub the inside with half of the garlic-herb rub.  Close it up and retie it with kitchen string (2 or 3 pieces should do it).  Rub remaining garlic-herb mixture on the outside of the roast, coating all sides.  Cover roast tightly with plastic wrap and set in a pie plate or other dish to catch any juices that might seep out.  Let sit in refrigerator 2-3 days. 

Preheat oven to 350°F.  Remove plastic.  In a large pan, roast until internal temperature reaches 170°F and juices run clear (2- to 2-1/2 hours).  Let rest 10-15 minutes.  Slice and serve with roasted potatoes, roasted asparagus, and stuffed artichokes.  Leftovers, by the way, make great sandwiches, quesadillas, and burritos.

An Easy Fish Supper

Here's a recipe we love: white fish braised in a Spanish red pepper sauce.  Talk about a delicious meal that's good for you, too.  Pristinely fresh fish from Cape Ann Fresh Catch simmered in a bright orange puree of onions, garlic, and red peppers.  The sauce is actually thickened with nuts—almonds to be exact—so you get a creamy, full-bodied sauce without the cream.  Serve this over rice with a green vegetable on the side, like roasted asparagus or garlicky greens, and you're in business.   Also?  It's fast.  Thirty minutes tops from start to finish. 

That's right, you owe me big for this one!

Fish in Spanish Red Pepper Sauce

This is delicious with monkfish, but you could also try hake, pollock, and haddock, too.

2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 onion, chopped
2 red bell peppers, diced
1-1/2 tsp. salt
3 cloves garlic, minced
1/3 cup dry sherry (or Madeira)
1 cup fish stock (or bottled clam juice)
1/4 cup slivered almonds (skinless)
1/2 tsp. black pepper
Several shakes of paprika
Dash of cayenne
2 lbs. monkfish, haddock, pollock, hake, or cod, cut into 2- to 3-inch pieces
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh parsley

In a large frying pan, heat the oil over medium heat.  Add onions, red peppers, and salt, and cook, stirring occasionally, until onion is soft, about 5 minutes.  Stir in the garlic and cook 15 seconds.  Add the sherry and simmer 1 minute.  Add stock or clam juice and bring to a simmer.  Reduce heat and simmer, covered, for 10 minutes.

Let cool slightly, then pour vegetables into blender.  With a dishtowel pressed over the top, puree until smooth.  Add the almonds and spices, and puree again.  Pour sauce back into pan and bring to a simmer.  Add the fish and simmer, covered, until done, 10-12 minutes.  Serve sprinkled with parsley over rice.         Serves 4.

Source: Adapted from Food & Wine.

Snow Day 3: Maple Sugar on Snow

By the third snow day, I was pretty ready to be done with snow.  We had already spent the past two days doing every possible no-cost snow activity I could think of: shoveling, sledding, snowball fights, snow-fort construction, snow-fort demolition, and my personal favorite: cramming as much snow as possible up the sleeves of our coats and then crying about it. 

Still, we had all that beautiful snow, so I decided to try something new: making maple taffy (also known as maple sugar on snow).  Have you heard of it?  Basically, it's a soft candy made by heating up maple syrup to a certain point and then rapidly cooling it down.  That's where the snow comes in: you pour the hot syrup directly onto the snow.  Then, once cool, you take a popsicle stick and roll the taffy onto the end like a lollipop.  The cold temperature of the snow cools the taffy into a soft, sticky mass.  The snow also tends to stick to the taffy, making it as icy cold as it is sweet. 

A half cup of maple syrup makes a snack for 4 to 6.  Scope out an area of snow that is clean and not yellow ahead of time.  You want the snow at least two inches deep as the top layer will melt and sink when the hot syrup comes in contact with it.  You need a candy thermometer, a small pot, and a willingness to babysit the pot as it boils to make sure that the syrup doesn't bubble up and over the sides of the pot.  It really wants to.  Just lower the heat as necessary.  When the syrup reaches a temperature range of 234° to 238°F (recipes vary), turn off the heat and immediately bring the pot and your popsicle sticks outside.  Pour the syrup onto the snow in lines about 6 inches long.  Adhere a popsicle stick to one end of the amber ribbon and roll it onto itself.  Rest it in the snow while you complete the others.  Eat immediately (off its icy bed, the taffy tends to fall apart).  Once you're done, you can use the stick to dig any residual maple syrup out of the snow and eat it like a snow cone.  For me, this was half the fun. 

So there it is: possibly the only exception to the "Don't Eat Yellow Snow" rule!

 

Local Ingredient Sources:

Maple syrup: Williams Farm Sugarhouse, Old Deerfield, MA

Crispy Hash Browns

Wow, you guys.  Never have I gotten so many desperate pleas for a recipe as I have in the past few days after the mere mention of hash browns.  It's nice to know that I have such a discerning/obsessed readership.  Now that we've had a chance to dig ourselves out of the foot and a half of snow that fell yesterday, I'm happy to share my technique.  It produces a well-seasoned potato patty that's crisp on the outside and soft on the inside.  In short: perfect.

 

Crispy Hash Browns

3 medium Yukon gold potatoes (or other starchy potato)
Kosher salt and black pepper
Olive oil

Peel and grate potatoes using the large holes on a box grater (watch your knuckles!).  Line a colander with cheesecloth or non-linty dishtowel.  Set grated potato on towel in colander and sprinkle with several pinches of kosher salt, tossing to distribute.  Let sit 5 minutes. 

Heat a large skillet (I like cast iron) with 2 Tbsp. olive oil on medium heat.  (If you're making the hash browns to go with sausage and vegetable hash, you may have some fat left over in the skillet so you can use less oil).  While the pan is heating, gather up the sides of the towel, twist, and squeeze the potatoes hard over the sink so all of the moisture drips out.  Repeat several times.  You want the potatoes dry, dry, dry before they hit the pan.  You should be left with a wad of potato pulp about the size of a baseball.

When the pan is good and hot, take 1/3 of grated potatoes, pull apart, and spread out into a potato pancake no more than 1/2-inch thick.  You want the potato loosely packed with lacy edges.  Sprinkle with black pepper, press down with a spatula, then leave it alone for about 10 minutes.  Time will vary depending on your pan and the flame.  When you see the edges start to brown significantly, carefully loosen with the spatula and lift up an edge.  If the hash brown is merely golden on the bottom and kind of sags, let it cook more time.  What you want is a crust on the bottom that can withstand the weight of the hash brown itself.  It's called hash brown for a reason (just take care not to make it a hash black).  Flip and repeat on the second side.  When nice and crispy brown, let drain on paper towels and season with salt.  Repeat with two more batches of potatoes, squeezing any additional moisture that may have been drawn out by the salt, and adding more oil to the pan as necessary.  Serves 2 adults and 2 kids (who split the third).

A few other notes: You could probably use a food processor fitted with the grater disk, though it takes less time to grate three potatoes by hand than it would for me to locate and later wash all of the parts of the food processor.  Don't let your peeled/grated potatoes sit out too long before cooking or they will turn brown.  Also, be sure to rinse out the squeezing towel with water soon afterwards so it doesn't stain brown.  If you need to speed up the frying process, use two skillets simultaneously.  Finally, if your kids turn up their noses at your beautiful hash browns, just say they're like hamburgers made out of French fries and suddenly at least one of them is chowing down.

Local Ingredients:
Potatoes: Waltham Fields, Waltham, MA/Picadilly Farm, Winchester, NH

Sausage and Root Vegetable Skillet Supper

Don't you just love breakfast for dinner?  Or "brinner" as my oldest calls it. 

To me, brinner usually means that Husband is making his amazing blueberry pancakes and I'm off duty, a double score for me.  Sometimes it means I'm frying up bacon and eggs.  More recently, though, I've been whittling down my root vegetable stash by making sausage and vegetable hash.  It makes fine cold- weather fare for breakfast, brunch, or brinner.  It is best served with hash- browned potatoes on the side or, as Husband easily convinced me, broken up so the crispy, lacy bits mingle with the rest of the vegetables.  My super-simple hash brown technique is here.  In the meantime, go find yourself some squash.


Sausage and Root Vegetable Skillet Supper (with Crispy Hash Browns)

If you don't have access to these particularly delicious breakfast sausages, you can substitute high-quality ground pork mixed with a healthy dose of salt, ground sage, and black pepper, as well as a touch of cayenne and ground coriander.  You could also use bacon.  Feel free to omit the root vegetables you don't like and replace them with others that you do, like carrots, sweet potatoes, and rutabagas.

1/2-1 lb. farm-fresh, breakfast sausage patties
1-2 Tbsp. bacon fat (or oil, if you prefer)
1/2 butternut squash, peeled, 1/2-inch dice
1 medium turnip, peeled, 1/2-inch dice
1 medium celery root, peeled, 1/2-inch dice
2 parsnips, peeled, sides sliced off the woody core, 1/2-inch dice
1 red onion, 1/2-inch dice
2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh rosemary
1 Tbsp. chopped fresh thyme
Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat the oven to 350°F. 

In a large skillet, preferably cast iron, melt the fat and brown the sausage meat, breaking the patties into bite-sized pieces as you go.  You want the pieces fully cooked and golden-brown on several sides.  When done, remove meat and set aside.  Reserve skillet (unwashed) for hash browns.

While sausage is browning, wash, peel, and chop the squash, turnip, celery root, parsnips, and onion.  Combine on a large rimmed baking sheet with olive oil, rosemary, thyme, salt, and pepper.  Toss with your hands until well-coated.  Roast for 40 minutes, flipping once, or until the vegetables are tender and golden. 

Meanwhile, make the hash browns.  Combine the vegetables, sausage, and hash browns in the skillet and brinner is served.

Source: Inspired by an adaptation of the Red Lion Inn recipe in The Boston Globe.

Local Ingredient Sources
Sausage: Chestnut Farms, Hardwick, MA
Bacon fat: From bacon from Codman Farm, Lincoln, MA
Squash, turnip, red onion, potatoes: Waltham Fields, Waltham, MA
Parsnips: Sugar Mountain Farm, Whately, MA (via Russo's)
Rosemary: My half-dead plant

Sauerkraut

Today marks a return to my sauerkraut obsession, which has been neglected for far too long.  Oh, you thought I had given up?  Never!  I will not rest until sauerkraut perfection is achieved once again as it was the very first time I attempted it in 2008 when I had no idea what I was doing.

Feel free to play along with your own cabbage.  In 3-5 weeks, when our sauerkraut is ready, we can compare notes/swear words and if you blog about it, I’ll do a sauerkraut roundup linking over to your posts.  Okay?  Here ya go:

 

Sauerkraut

The technique is from Sandor Ellix Katz’s book Wild Fermentation.  A similarly good method can be found in The Joy of Pickling by Linda Ziedrich.  I like to add garlic and other flavorings, but using only cabbage and salt is great, too.

5 lbs. cabbage, cored, shredded thinly
3 Tbsp. sea salt
3 cloves garlic, peeled, crushed
1 Tbsp. juniper berries
2 tsp. caraway seeds
1 tsp. fennel seeds
1 tsp. celery seeds
1 bay leaf

In a large bowl, mix the cabbage with the salt and other flavorings with your hands.  The salt draws the water out of the cabbage and creates a protective brine in which the cabbage can ferment and sour.   Pack it all into a large crock as tight as you can, a little at a time, with your fists or a potato masher.  Set a plate on top of the cabbage.  It should fit snugly inside the crock without getting stuck.  Set a clean jug of water on top.  The weight will help force more water out of the cabbage as well as keep the cabbage submerged as the water level rises.  Cover the whole crock with an old pillowcase to keep out flies and dust.  Check the cabbage over the next 24 hours to make sure it has released enough water to be completely submerged.  If not, add more liquid in a ratio of 1 Tbsp. salt to 1 cup of water (stirred until salt is completely dissolved) until the cabbage is completely covered. 

Let crock sit in a cool dark corner for 3-5 weeks, checking every couple of days to skim off any foam and rinse the plate.  Check the brine level.  Water will evaporate over time, so you may need to add some fresh water to keep the cabbage submerged and prevent it from rotting.  During the fermentation period, do NOT add salt water—only fresh.  To find out why, read here.  When sauerkraut, reaches the desired flavor, use on reubens, make bacon and sauerkraut strudels, bake with bratwurst or pork chops, or eat it all by itself.  Get it right and it's worth the wait!

Local Ingredient Sources:
Cabbage, garlic: Waltham Fields Community Farm, Waltham, MA