Straight from the Farm

Now, we all know that the old adage claims the early bird gets the worm, but that’s not entirely true.  Many farmers markets start slashing prices about an hour or two before closing.  As the farmers start thinking about breaking down their tables and repacking their crates, they’d rather unload the remaining produce through a few ridiculously cheap transactions than put those highly perishables veggies back in the truck.   I could recant many a funny tale from the Allentown market about patrons lining up beside the stand, three or four deep, oogling a pint of this or that, but waiting for the cry “Half price!  Everything’s half price!”   Once that shout rang out, the proverbial free-for-all ensued with more than a few smack downs over a particularly juicy item.   Strangely, it was usually the little old ladies that were in the thick of it! 

At the Headhouse Farmers Market on Sunday, I was once again shouting “Eggplants, three for a dollar!” (previously priced a buck apiece) and “Get your fresh herb mixed bunches for a buck!” (a third of the original price for the separated herbs) and so on and so forth.  Now, don’t you all go thinking this inside scoop means you should only show up at the last minute at the market and gobble up the goodies for real cheap.  There is a downside — namely, the produce has usually been picked over and you’ll have to accept a few bruised fruits and past-peak veggies.   Plus, it’s important to buy at full price to support the farmers who no doubt would prefer to turn a profit. 

But moving past the merits of full price and cheap, there’s a whole ‘nother category: FREE!   This category is available mostly to those of us manning the stands.  Once all the tables are broken down and the trucks pulled up for loading, an exchange of, “I have way too many of X left, you want some?” and, “Hey, yeah, I’ll take X, but you’ve gotta take some Y or Z from me cuz I can’t be bothered to take them home,” begins taking place.   Thus it was that Flat Rock Farm, another great Philadelphia urban farm, so generously gifted me with an abundance of fresh herbs, among other things. 

Since I already had a bunch of basil from Weavers Way Farm, I was practically able to roll in the heavenly scents of sage, marjoram, oregano and two kinds (purple and green) of basil.  I decide there was only one thing to do to use up this herbal bounty, considering how much I had and how steady a supply I have between my own herbs and the farm.  It was time to begin brewing herb infused oils.   These may very well be my homemade Christmas gifts this year. 

This simple technique allows the discerning chef to extend the flavors of the summer season the way a hoop house extends the industrious farmer’s growing season.  Once made, the oils retain the fresh and powerful flavors of the herbs for months.  Use some basil-infused oil on a nice ripe tomato in December and you’ll swear it was July.   And the palette of these oils is limited only by your imagination.  Use the same “brewing” method for any number of combinations.   

Who’s got a good combination to share?  And what dishes have you enhanced with herb-infused oils?  C’mon, share the love! 

Herb-Infused Oil

1 c. canola, sunflowers, light olive, soy or any other mild oil
1/2 c. chopped fresh herbs*

*Use any single herb or mix of herbs.  For this particular post, I used sage, marjoram, basil and oregano.  You can also add lemon zest or garlic for additional flavor.

Wash and dry herbs thoroughly.  Remove leaves from stems and roughly chop to release the natural oils.  Place herbs in the bottom of a mason jar or clean empty spagghetti sauce jar.  Add oil and seal tightly.  Swirl oil and herbs to combine a bit.  Let jar sit for 4 to 5 days at room temperature. 

Once herbs have infused the oil over several days, strain oil through fine mesh seeve to remove herbs.  Return oil to jar and seal tightly again.  Store in refrigerator for up to 6 months.  Use as you would any other oil, but expect some wonderful extra flavor. 

(makes 1 cup of oil)

I have a lot of brainstorms, many of which happen in (and wreck havoc on) my kitchen.  I tend to eyeball an object and contemplate how to transform it into something else, even if it’s perfect just the way it is.  By the way, I blame this trait on my mother, who can never just buy something at the store when she can “make that better and for less!”.  The dear woman collects an amazing assortment of bric-a-brac to that end, and somehow it’s always useful instead of just adding clutter to an overflowing “junk” drawer.   She’s got an eagle eye for creative reuses.

With such genes in my pool, I stared long and hard at the lemon cucumber.  They’re just so odd.  And round.  As one gleeful customer at our Headhouse Farmers Market table on Sunday declared – “Looks like a lemon; tastes like a cucumber!”  I couldn’t just chop them up and make yet another tzatziki dip.  These funky spin-offs of the traditional variety are proving to be a top seller this season, and for good reasons.  Allow me to count the ways lemon cucumbers surpass the standard:
   1) They’re cute.
   2) They have a really crisp texture and last longer in the fridge.
   3) They add extra color to the typically green salad.
   4) They are a perfect serving size so you don’t have to put that half a
       cucumber wrapped in cellophane back into the crisper drawer.
   5) They make great bowls for soup! 

Yep, you read that right.  My most recent culinary-related brainstorm (I’ll refrain from telling you about my most recent non-culinary one…) was to turn lemon cucumbers into hor’dourve-sized soup bowls.   And I have to say, I was quite tickled with the results. 

Once the “innards” are scooped out of the cucumbers, they hold about three tablespoons of soup and can stay in the fridge for up to a day.  My favorite part was that after I’d slurped (oh so lady-like am I) the soup out of the “bowl”, I got to eat down the sides that had soaked up the flavors of the soup.   If you’re not into the idea of eating your dishware, you can make the soup with just four lemon cucumbers, processing three and dicing one to add after the soup is smooth. 

As a second “Oh my goodness, I’m a freakin’ genius!” moment, last night I spooned the leftover soup onto some just-drained pesto parmesan gnocchi and tossed in some fresh diced tomatoes.  Words can’t even begin to describe how delicious a combination this was.   So, um, yeah – soup or sauce, cucumber or china bowl, this is one heck of a wicked good brainstorm!

CUCUMBER ALMOND SOUP
Adapted from The Cook’s Encyclopedia of Soups

6 larger lemon cucumbers
1 smaller lemon cucumber
4 garlic cloves
1/2 t. sea salt
3/4 c. toasted almond slivers
2 slices of stale bread, cut into rough pieces 
2 T. grape seed oil (or other mild oil)
1 1/2 c. plain yogurt
1/4 c. cold water
2 t. lemon juice
pinch of white pepper
1 large basil leaf (for garnish)
1 t. lemon zest (for garnish)

Thoroughly wash and dry cucumbers.  Slice a 1/4 inch off the top (stem side) of the 6 larger cucumbers.  Using a spoon and knife as needed, scour and scoop out the insides of cucumbers and put the insides in a blender and set the “bowls” aside.  Dice the smaller cucumber and set aside.

Mince the garlic and sprinkle with salt.  Using the back of a wide knife blade, work the salt and garlic together until it forms a smooth paste.  Scrap up the garlic and add to blender. 

If walnuts aren’t already toasted, do so by spreading on a baking sheet and placing in 200 F oven for about 15 minutes, until golden.  Add toasted almonds to blender, reserving a couple for garnish.  Pulse blender to start processing the ingredients.   Add the bread and continue to process. 

When the mixture is fairly smooth, slowly add the grape seed oil and combine well.   Next add the plain yogurt and process again until well combined.  Finally add the cold water and lemon juice.   Taste and season a needed with white pepper. 

Stir (not blend!) the diced cucumber into the soup.  Carefully spoon the soup into the cucumber “bowls”.   Put tops on and chill for at least an hour.  Before serving, remove tops and garnish soup with ribbons of basil, a pinch of lemon zest, and an almond sliver.  Serve immediately.

(makes 6 hor’dourve servings) 

Without fail, every trip to a diner sees eggplant parmesan on my plate.  I mean, seriously, you could bet your entire life savings on me getting eggplant parmesan – for me it’s the quintessential diner food.  It also gives me terrible heartburn afterwards, which no doubt begs the question – why do I repeat the experience every single time?  Well folks, I love the combination of breaded goodness with marinara sauce and cheese.  If I ate chicken, I might switch it up once in awhile but those days are behind me.  So it is that I routinely take on the heartburn demons for the sake of melty crispy indulgence. 

That is until I discovered this recipe, which brings together all the delights of my beloved eggplant parmesan without the dreaded after-effects.  I’d love to tell you where I got the recipe, but it’s one of those that I scribbled down on a piece of paper and put in “my” cookbook – a battered (both figuratively and literally thanks to all those food bits attaching themselves when I have it out to make a recipe) spiral notebook stuffed full of handwritten slips, newspaper clippings and torn magazine pages.  Anyway, the recipe has morphed greatly over the many times I’ve made it so it probably matters little where I originally got it.  By the way, do any of you keep a similarly crazy haphazard collection of clipped/torn out recipes?   My mom always had one so it seems normal to me, but I’m starting to wonder if I’m just a pack rat and not this “aspiring chef collecting menu ideas” that I feign to be. 

Where was I?  Oh, yes, a fantastic knock-off for eggplant parmesan.  If you have picky eaters at your table (i.e., kids or boyfriend), you need to give this recipe a try.   Don’t forget the garlic bread on the side (slice a baguette in half, toast it in the oven, rub cut sides with a fresh garlic clove and spread on some good butter).  And the leftover eggplant is excellent for lunch the next day so make some extras. 

PANKO BREADED EGGPLANT SLICES

2 medium or 3 smaller eggplants
1 T. salt
2 c. panko bread crumbs
1/2 c. finely shredded parmesan cheese
2 t. finely chopped fresh basil OR oregano
freshly ground black pepper
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 T. milk
2 c. tomato sauce
2-3 oz. goat or feta cheese, crumbled

Partially peel eggplants, leaving on a bit of skin for color and substance.  Slice eggplants into even rounds a little thicker than 1/4 inch.  Lay out some paper towels and place eggplants on top in a single layer.  Sprinkle generously with salt and allow to stand for at least 10 minutes and up to 30 minutes. 

Preheat the oven to 400 F.   Pat eggplant slices dry with additional paper towels.  Line baking sheet with parchment paper.   In a shallow bowl, beat eggs and milk together.  In a second shallow bowl, combine panko bread crumbs (crush them in your hand first to make them a bit finer), shredded parmesan cheese, herbs and pepper.  Toss well with your hands to be sure to evenly distribute the cheese. 

Dip each slice of eggplant in the egg and then into the bread crumb mixture.  The bread crumbs might be reluctant to stick so press firmly and don’t worry if you can still see the eggplant through the crumbs.  Lay breaded slices in a single layer on the lined baking sheet.  Place full baking sheet in the oven.

Bake for 20 minutes or until golden on the outside and tender in the middle.  While eggplant is baking, bring tomato sauce up to a simmer and set out the goat or feta cheese.  When ready to serve, pile eggplant slices on a plate and top with sauce and crumbled cheese.   If you make extra to use for lunch the next day, store breaded eggplant and sauce separately and combine just before serving. 

(makes 4 substantial side dish servings) 

I have always enjoyed a nice helping of okra, usually battered and fried.  But I hadn’t run across this southern sweetheart’s plant prior to my work on the farm.  Talk about your “straight from the farm” pleasures – this particular plant packs a double wallop.  First, I was instantly mesmerized by its blossoms.  Creamy ivory petals hug a deeply purple heart and fuzzy-chick-yellow pistil…the sheer sensuality of its beauty instantly reminded me of a Georgia O’Keefe painting.   

After I stopped starring at the flower and got to harvesting the okra - the plant’s undeveloped seed pods – I was again engrossed with how tender and delicate the okra was when it was harvested.  The stuff I had gotten in the past from the supermarket just didn’t hold a candle next to the soft pods in my hands during this mid-morning Saturday harvest.  I couldn’t slather these tender babies in batter and subject them to scalding oil. 

I went to my sagging shelf of cookbooks and pulled down a few of my most trusted.  I had always thought of okra as a southern dish, which no doubt it is.  But it turns out it must be popular in the Mediterranean too, or so one would assume since I found the recipe I was looking for in World Cook’s Collection: Mediterranean Kitchen.   Despite to book’s title, I would still classify this recipe as one with more southern than mediterranean flare. 

Regardless of the recipe origins, there’s no denying this dish is pure comfort food.  The flavors are warm but not hot.  The texture is soft but not slimy the way some okra dishes can get.   And the overall end result is a full tummy that hasn’t missed having a “main dish” when this okra is served over rice.   Really, it makes quite a nice lunch.       

OKRA WITH CORIANDER AND TOMATOES
Adapted from World Cook’s Collection: Mediterranean Kitchen

1 lb. fresh ripe tomatoes
1 lb. fresh okra
3 T. olive oil
2 small onions, thinly sliced
2 t. crushed coriander seeds OR 1 t. ground coriander
3 garlic gloves, minced
1/2 t. sugar
1 lemon, zested and juiced
salt and ground black pepper

Bring a pot of water up to a boil.  Plunge the tomatoes into the boiling water for 30 seconds, then transfer to cold water.  Peel off the skins and roughly chop.

Trim off okra stalks and keep whole otherwise.  Heat oil in a skillet and sauté onions and coriander until the onions soften and color slightly, about 3-4 minutes. 

Add the okra and garlic and continue to sauté for another minute.  Turn heat down and add tomatoes and sugar.  Stir well and simmer gently for about 20 minutes, until the okra is tender.  Stir once half-way through.  When okra is tender, add lemon zest and juice along with salt and pepper to taste.  Stir well and serve immediately over rice or by itself.

(serves 4 as side dish)