Archive for August, 2007
Sorbet Swirl!
This is the dish I’ve been waiting to make all summer. Watermelon sorbet…with the Sorbet Swirl yellow watermelon no less…has been on my recipe “to do” list since the moment I saw the baby melon vines in the lower field at that farm. You see, I have an addiction – one might go so far as to say a handicap. I drool at the very sight of a watermelon. It’s hereditary. The gene’s been in my family for generations. I even wrote a short story about it a few years back, honoring my dear old dad, a man who knows his melons! (Hey you with the sick mind! Knock it off!)
If you’re in a hurry, just skip down to the recipe at the bottom. You’ll definitely want to try it. If you’ve got a few minutes, enjoy this essay from my personal archives.
Risky Business

I am not a fan of hot peppers.
There. It’s out in the open. I can stop lowering my eyes and muttering excuses every time a coworker offers me the hot peppers at the bottom of the pizza box that held our “working lunch”.
A customer at Headhouse this past weekend bought several of our Hungarian Hot Wax and Poblano peppers. As is my habit when someone makes a determined b-line for our table and buys gobs of a particular vegetable, I asked her what she had in mind for all those peppers. Turns out she adores the heat in her dishes and makes a hot pepper saute to put on her sandwiches throughout the week.

Hearing her enthusiasm, I had a flashback to much younger days, growing up in a rural farming community in central Pennsylvania. Every 4th of July, my small town hosted the county’s biggest one-day festival that focused primarily on two things — a parade burgeoning with homemade floats built mostly out of crepe paper and tin foil and ridiculous amounts of homemade food. Now, I could break away from my main storyline here to tell you about all the floats I rode on that won the grand prize…I was Lady Liberty, Pocahontas, Dorothy… okay, let’s just stop there.
Instead, let me tell you about a particularly popular item in the many food stands at the celebration – fried pepper and sausage sandwiches. At age eight, I started out working the soda stand, where a bunch of us kids concocted the Graveyard – a giant cup of every kind of soda we were selling that would literally rot your teeth out on the spot and make you see Yoda floating before you. The soda stand was right next door to the sausage stand.

Now, I was never a fan of sausage, but the smell of those fried peppers (and onions) made me hungry even after I’d eaten two buckets of homemade french fries with extra vinegar and salt. I hadn’t the guts to eat those peppers though until a few years later when I “graduated” to helping in the sausage stand. Alas, the delights of my nose far surpassed the delights of my taste buds. I wasn’t a fan of eating those fried peppers. But they never stopped smelling good.
The delectable smell popped back into my brain after talking to my pepper buyer at Headhouse. As taste buds are wont to do, mine have changed over the years and so I thought I’d give fried peppers another go. It was a risk, especially considering I don’t like hot peppers in particular. But I thought if I knocked out all of the seeds and balanced the hot ones with one sweet pepper, I just might have a chance.
Dear readers, it’s good to take risks. Very good indeed!

Fried Hot Pepper Sandwich Topping
1 poblano pepper
1 hot wax pepper
1 sweet/regular pepper
1/2 of a large onion
1 T. extra virgin olive oil
salt and pepper to taste
Wash and remove seeds and stems from peppers (reserve a few seeds from the hot ones if you like extra heat). Slice the peppers and the onion into similarly thin strips.
Heat the oil in a small skillet until nice and hot. Add peppers and onion and stir regularly until they are soft and brown around the edges. Add salt and pepper to taste and remove from stove.
Serve immediately on top of a burger or other sandwich. You can also make extras and store in an air-tight container in your fridge for up to a week, using it to garnish and enhance many quick dishes.
(makes enough to top 4 or 5 sandwiches)

Alone with Many Eggplants

While I was kicking back in my nylon armchair with built-in cup holder (whatever did Americans do before these souped-up lawn chairs came along?) at the campsite in Maine, I quickly flew through the pages of my latest favorite read. Alone in the Kitchen with an Eggplant is a fascinating compilation of literary glimpses into several foodies’ – some more famous than others – habits when cooking and dining alone. Besides the content, I was initially drawn to the cover graphics, as is often the case with me and new books that haven’t come to me on prior recommendation. In fact, the sliced eggplant “informed” (okay, I was trying to create a knock-off) one of my previous recipe photos.

You may have already run across glowing reviews of this book, but if not, allow me to share the “Cliff Notes” for two of my favorite essays. Steve Almond, a humorous writer from Massachusetts, made me giggle with a story about how heritage and breeding made it impossible for him to not feed visitors (I carry this same trait) and how he has concocted one particularly special dish to impress said visitors. Grill-curried shrimp quesarito with avocado raita sounds absolutely stunning, doesn’t it?? While he makes the ingredients in advance and stores them in his fridge in anticipation of company, he woefully admits to regularly consuming the quesaritos on his own in the end. It’s this confession that really rang true for me. I’m constantly “in preparation”, mostly mentally, for the next get-together at which I’ll cook this and that and I’d better get to the store to make sure I have the ingredients on hand… But in the end, so much of the time I cook only for myself. I don’t even get to cook for D so much as he doesn’t particularly fancy vegetables (*insert long tirade here about how ironic it is that a vegetarian doesn’t like vegetables).

Shortly after Mr. Almond’s essay came one by M. F. K. Fisher, a food writer of substantial fame. In hers was a similar tagline to that I’ve already described…she tried socializing and even going out to good restaurants, but in the end it was dining alone at home that seemed the most satisfactory. “But, and there is no cavil here, I felt firmly then, as I do this very minute, that snug misanthropic solitude is better than hit-or-miss congeniality.” Ah, you’re signing to the choir, Ms. Fisher, signing to the choir!
Really though, what I’m trying to convey, besides encouraging you to pick up this book, is the sensibility of making good food for yourself, even if you don’t dine alone. Make something good for yourself using good ingredients. To that end, I gave this North African Roasted Vegetable Salad a try because I love eggplant and there’s bushels of it coming from the farm these days. D doesn’t like eggplant unless it’s breaded and fried so I knew I’d be eating this alone. Having made it, I’m actually glad he doesn’t like eggplant…more for me!

Before I get on with the recipe, a parting comment on eggplant, or aubergene as I grew fond of calling it after living in Europe. The farm is growing a couple varieties this season, and I get many questions from customers at Headhouse market about their differences. The basic distinction is the shape – long and slender is an Asian, or Japanese, variety; fat and more round is an Italian, or Sicilian, variety.
My general recommendation for anyone who hasn’t used eggplant much is to use the Asian varieties for stir frying and dishes where you want it to cook fast and don’t really need it for taste. This variety is less bitter than the Italian variety. The plump Italian type is best used for what one might suspect…Italian dishes such as eggplant parmesan. But in truth, the two types are relatively interchangeable.
If you are not combining the eggplant with other strong flavors, you should first slice it, salt it, and let it release most of its moisture before cooking to cut down on any bitterness it might have. However, with the following recipe, there’s such a burst of flavor going on, there’s no need to tone down the eggplant. In fact, its bitterness enhances this particular dish.
North African Roasted Vegetable Salad (or Dip)
Adapted from Moosewood Restaurant Kitchen Garden Cookbook
4 or 5 Asian eggplants or 1 large Italian eggplant
2 bell peppers (use two colors for a prettier dish)
2 firm tomatoes
2 T. extra virgin olive oil
2 T. fresh lemon juice
3 garlic cloves, finely minced
2 T. onion, finely minced
2 T. fresh or 1 T. dried parsley
1 t. fresh or 1/2 t. dried chopped rosemary
Large pinch of salt
Freshly ground black pepper
Pinch of cayenne pepper
Preheat oven to 400 F. Prick the eggplants with a sharp knife and place on a foil-lined baking sheet along with the peppers. Place in oven and roast for 25 minutes, turning vegetables half way through. After 25 minutes, place tomatoes on baking sheet and continue roasting all the vegetables until the eggplants are deflated and soft, the peppers are browned and peeling slightly, and the tomatoes are soft and starting to juice. This should take about 10 minutes, more or less for some of the vegetables.
While the peppers are still hot, place them in a plastic bag and seal them to let them steam off their skins. Allow the eggplants and tomatoes to cool. After about 10 minutes, open the pepper bag and slip off the skins. Remove seeds and chop pepper flesh into 1/2 inch pieces and place in a medium bowl.
Slice eggplants in half and use a spoon to scrap out the mushy flesh. Give the eggplant a rough chop to cut down on any large pieces and place in the bowl with peppers. Over the sink or a compost bucket, gently squeeze the tomatoes until they release most of their juices and seeds. Chop the flesh into 1/2 inch pieces and add to bowl with eggplant and peppers.
In another small bowl, mix the remaining ingredients to make a dressing/marinade. Once well combined, pour dressing over vegetables and mix.
Allow the vegetable salad to sit for at least an hour to marinate. Can be served warm or chilled as an appetizer, side dish, or sandwich filling. If using as a dip, serve with toasted bread triangles or pita.
(serves 6 to 8 )

A Little of This and a Little of That

This:
I did a so-so job on my blog homework over vacation. My assignment was to seek out farmers markets in New England and then use the selected produce from them to cook up campfire delights. Alas, there were very few farmers markets until the next to last day, driving down the Maine coastline along Route 1. So, I was able to visit a few but wasn’t able to cook anything over the campfire. Still, prove that I made an attempt and hopefully earn an “A” for effort from you all, here are a few snapshots of what I found at the small seaside town of Belfast’s farmers market.



That:
Registration is now open for Cooking Straight From the Farm! This course, taught by yours truly, will encourage students to get personal with their food – see where and how it grows, rub off the dirt and take a bite right there in the field and gather more veggies to take in the kitchen for a cooking demonstration using several of this blog’s recipes. The blog coming to life…what a marvelous thing! The class size is limited to 10 so if you’re interested, I’d encourage you to sign up sooner than later. Class will be held on September 29th at Weavers Way Farm.
No Farm Required – Maine’s Wild Blueberries
Relatively rested and certainly nicely tanned, I’m back from hiking miles and miles around New Hampshire and Maine. Before I recant my tales, I have to thank Rachel once again for blog sitting for me! She certainly puts her garden to good use! I’m just wishing she wasn’t so far away in Maryland so I could get my hands on some of that cantaloupe gelato!!! Maybe she’ll swap for some of the watermelon sorbet I’ll be posting later this week.

For this post, I wanted to give you a glimpse into my vacation and the bounty of Maine’s local produce. Despite all my world travels, I had never been to Maine before, and I was struck by the beauty of the landscape and the earnestness of the community there. Everywhere there are examples of the honor system… firewood, zucchini, and even pints of wild blueberries all sitting alongside the road with handpainted signs instructing buyers to help themselves and put their payment in a nearby box.

You really couldn’t get away from the blueberries in particular. I think there was either a manned or an unmanned roadside stand for them almost every mile. I also got to pick my own along the trail on top of Mount Penobscot where the small scrubby bushes were growing despite the insanely windy and cold conditions (if it was that cold in August, I don’t know how anything manages to thrive up there – the power of nature!).

One evening, D and I decided to have a romantic sunset picnic at Pretty Marsh, a quiet little inlet on the less touristy side of the park. Earlier in the day while shopping in Bar Harbor, I saw that a local winery makes wild blueberry wine and deemed it a perfect addition to our shoe box picnic (lacking a proper basket, we packed our cheese and crackers in the box from my new hiking boots that was still in the car). In between snapshots of the sun setting and making a lame attempt to foil D at chess while nibbling on extra sharp cheddar, I managed to take this lovely picture of the wine’s label.

In the end, while I enjoyed my brief flirtation with Maine’s wild blueberries’ rustic romantic personality, I really wasn’t so fond of the blueberries themselves (although the wine was quite good). These rugged beauties are like anything wild… a little tough and gamey and short of sweetness. Still, there was something special about them, especially when nibbled during a long hike.


















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