Garden to Table: Eggplant

I harvested my first eggplant today! It’s especially exciting since I’ve tried growing this purple vegetable before with little success. My previous attempts yielded a total of one eggplant. When I tried grilling it, it was so small that it fell through the grates and instantly burst into flames.

This year, I’m already ahead of the game. The eggplant I harvested today was large enough for two people to share, and I have several more coming in on its heels. No doubt my success this year can be attributed to the fact that I did not crowd the plants. Each plant had a solid 18 inches of growing room in any direction.

The fresh eggplant had no traces of bitterness, even without salting. It cooked more quickly than the conventional variety, and the flavor was sweeter with a creamy texture.

This recipe is an adaptation from Eileen Yin-Fei Lo’s Chinese Kitchen.

2 Italian Eggplants
2 ½ tablespoons tapioca flour
2 tablespoons plain oil
1 tablespoon fresh ginger, chopped
1 teaspoon fresh garlic, chopped
3 scallions, cut into rings

Sauce:
2 tablespoons oyster sauce
2 teaspoons dark soy sauce
1 teaspoon sugar
2 teaspoons gin
¾ cup chicken stock
1 – 2 teaspoon chili paste or sriracha – depending on taste

1. Combine ingredients for sauce.
2. Cut eggplant into 1 inch cubes and toss in tapioca starch
3. Heat a large skillet over high heat. Add the oil. When oil is hot, add eggplant in a single layer.

4. Cook eggplant until it starts to brown, and toss. Add ginger and garlic and cook until fragrant.

5. Stir in sauce and scallions and cook until the sauce thickens.
6. Serve over rice.

Garden to Table: 20 minutes

Farmers' Market Report - Summer Bounty

In the farmers’ market this week, all the summer time favorites are finally available: fresh, local sweet corn, heirloom field tomatoes, cucumbers, blueberries, and peaches. In additional, the farmers graciously grow lots of staples and fillers so that we can prepare a full meal (though some would argue that corn and tomatoes is a complete meal) with just locally grown foods.

When I worked under Lydia Shire, at the now defunct Biba, she taught me how to appreciate color on the palate. She would garnish a fish or meat dish with something white (potatoes), green (watercress) and red (beets). Each garnish was bright and vivid, and with a back-drop of rosy lamb or florescent wild salmon, the colors on the plate just popped.

I think of her every summer as I compose one of my favorite dishes: Roast Salmon with Creamed Corn (yellow), Roasted Tomatoes (red) and Basil Coulis (green).

Creamed Corn utilizes just the kernels; the cobs can be saved for a stock or other recipe. . I’ve seen many neat tricks for removing the kernels, including this one on Simply Recipes. I usually just lay the cob on its side and use the full blade of the knife to slice down and back. Wasn’t it Newton’s law of physics: for every action there’s an equal and opposite reaction…. If the cob is on its side, then the kernels, don’t fall as far, and therefore don’t bounce as far away on the counter. Once I have the corn prepped, I can proceed with the recipe.

Given my inclination for a completely locavore meal, I think a steak from Austin Brothers Valley Farm would be better than farm raised salmon. Local striped bass would be lovely too, but no one at the market is selling fish.

To complete the meal, I would prepare a blueberry bread pudding: bread from hi-rise (sold at the farmers market and eggs also from Austin Farm. Though no one is selling milk, I know I can get fresh local dairy at the Harvest Co-op – avoiding the mega chain of Whole Foods and supporting the local supermarket.

Beef Tenderloin with Summer’s Trilogy
1 whole filet, weighing about 5#, trussed
salt and pepper to taste
1 tablespoon plain oil
3 ears of corn, kernels cut off
1 tbs. butter
1 large fresh red onion, diced
5 cloves garlic, diced
1/2 cup cream
1/2 tsp. curry powder
4 roma tomatoes, cut in half
1 tbs. olive oil
1 slice smoked bacon
1 tsp. fresh thyme
1 bunch basil
2 lemons, juiced
plain oil
salt and pepper to taste.

Season filet with salt and pepper.

Heat a large sauté pan, or grill over high heat. Add oil to pan. Sear filet on one side, sear until golden brown on the other. Finish roasting in 350 oven for about 10-20 minutes, or until desired doneness.

Meanwhile….

Toss tomatoes with olive oil, thyme, 2 tbs. diced onion and 1 tbs. garlic. Roast in 500F oven, until tomatoes begin to brown and blister. Meanwhile, render bacon in a skillet. When crispy, coarsely chop and mix with tomatoes. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Melt butter in a skillet. Add corn, 1 tbs. chopped shallots and 1 tsp. garlic. Cook until garlic and corn begin to brown. Add curry powder and cook for 1 minute more. Add cream, and cook for 5 minutes, or until cream is reduced by 1/2. Season to taste with salt, pepper and lemon juice.

In a blender, puree basil with 2 tbs. chopped onion, lemon juice and 1/4 cup of olive oil. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

After tenderloin is finished raosting, let rest for 10 mintues. Slice. Garnish with corn, tomatoes, basil coulis (and fresh summer zucchini too!)

Raising Clams

Have you ever seen a clam mate? Me neither. But when I was in Wellfleet this week, a town in Cape Cod renowned for its clams, I spotted a poster that explained the process. The male clams spit out sperm, and the female spew eggs. The eggs fertilize in the sway of the current and plant themselves in the sand. In about 3 years they grow to about 2 inches in diameter. In the warm, briny waters of Wellfleet Harbor, they develop a sweet, salty flavor.

The clam “farmers” take a more systematic approach to raising clams. They buy clam “seeds” by the millions. The seeds are smaller than a pinky nail. So they don’t get lost at sea, they are caged in a mesh box.

At low tide, the boxes are laid out on the sandy, harbor floor. At high tide, they are submerged. Same view of Pat's Clam bed -- on the left at high tide, or the right at low tide.

After a year, they are large enough to be transferred to the larger sand beds.

At low tide, the shores of Wellfleet harbor are dotted with trucks and clam farmers. In addition to raking up a daily yield to sell to local restaurants and fish markets, they are managing their beds. When beds are emptied of mature clams, they are raked clean of stray shells. Young clams are ready to be set. The rows are strategically lined so that they can drive their trucks between them and efficiently transfer the daily catch.

Pat Woodbury’s beds are on the east side of the harbor. Though most Wellfleet natives aren’t familiar with him, he’s famous in Boston for supplying the James Beard Award Winning restaurants: Summer Shack, Rialto and East Coast Grill, as well as many others. On the north side is Michael (whose last name escapes me). He supplies his mom’s restaurant, The Bookstore and Restaurant, in the center of town. At lunch, you can order his clams just hours after they were plucked from the waters.

Michael also let me dig some clams to cook at home. I prepared the classic Italian Pasta with Clams, White Wine and Garlic.

4 tbs. extra virgin olive oil
3 clove garlic, chopped
1/2 bunch parsley, chopped
2 dozen Wellfleet clams, washed.
2/3 cup dry white wine
1/4 tsp. dried hot chili flakes (optional)
2 tbs. brandy
1 lb. linguine or fusilli
1 tbs. grated parmesan

1. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Season generously with salt. Cook pasta according to package instructions.

2. In a separate skillet, heat 3 tbs. olive oil with garlic and chili flakes, cook for about 2 mintues or until garlic starts to lightly brown. Add the clams, and toss to coat in garlic. Cook, covered for 2 minutes.

3. Add wine and brandy to the clams, and cook, uncovered until the clams begin to open. Add half the parsley.

4. Toss pasta with clams and add the remaining olive oil and cheese. Garnish with remaining parsley.

Garden Updates: Emerging Sun

After a week of torrential downpours, capped off by overnight showers… you can imagine my delight when I peered out the window this morning to notice a sunflower standing bright.

In other joyful, garden news, I will likely harvest this week:

eggplant,

kohlrabi,

tomatoes (I can see the first blush of ripeness, can’t you??),

and

cauliflower

And to season, lots of basil, scallions and tarragon.

My Ten Favorite Dishes: #5: Guilty Pleasures

We all have our guilty pleasures…. The little indulgences that we know aren’t good for us, and perhaps don’t even fit our personality or lifestyle. I’m not embarrassed to share mine – as a self professed foodie and gourmand, I’ll admit mine in is Popeyes Fried Chicken. I’m “guilty” because I know how bad it is for me. It’s guilty because their chickens, despite proclamations on their website, probably live a life similar to those of I saw on the Perdue chicken truck. Guilt aside, I’m like Pavlov’s dog when I smell that distinctive greasy, salty aroma.

Growing up in Washington DC, with a soul-full, southern culture, Popeyes are as popular as any other fast food chains. I first experienced the crispy, seasoned-to-the-bone chicken when I was 16. The biscuits are buttery and light, and the red beans and rice has a smoky hint of ham hocks. Over the years, I’ve eaten fried chicken all over the south, and so far nothing has come close.

I moved into my first apartment in Boston because of its proximity to Popeyes. Alas, the last Popeye’s closed in Boston in 1995 and did not return until last year. Great fan fare preceded the opening with buzz on Chowhound – a decidedly foodie website. Apparently, I’m not alone in this guilty pleasure. True vindication came when the Boston Globe reviewed it… the first ever review of a fast food chain.

Popeyes reached a new level of refinement when Popeyes’ twitter recommended the best wine pairing was with a $45 bottle – Cakebread Chardonnay. Up until this point, I had always stuck with 7-Up. Not surprising, though, the best wine with Popeyes, according to a recent blind tasting, was a $5 bottle. You can read all about the Popeyes Wine Tasting here. What’s your favorite beverage to pair with Popeyes?

As if I need an excuse to eat Popeyes, it’s right next to Fenway Park! And what’s more American than Baseball and… Fried Chicken.

General Gau's Chicken: The Man Behind the Myth

Jennifer 8. Lee, author of The Fortune Cookie Chronicles, describes Chinese Cuisine in America as “the biggest culinary joke played by one culture on another.” General Gau’s chicken tops that list in that it appears on nearly every Chinese menu in the US as a chef specialty. While the General was real – a soldier from the Hunan region in China – his chicken is wholly an American invention. The dish varies from restaurant to restaurant, but the theme is consistent: crispy fried chunks of chicken tossed in a sweet and spicy sauce. Despite its inauthentic origins, it’s still a personal favorite.

My favorite Chinese cookbook, The Chinese Kitchen, by Eileen Yin-Fei Lo features a recipe that continues to receive rave reviews from my dinner guests. The sauce is nicely balanced, not overly sweet, and fragrant with ginger and chilies. My continual challenge – which most restaurants mastered – is frying the chicken nuggets so they stay crunchy after they’ve been tossed in the sauce. The chicken, marinated in egg and corn starch, is dusted with more corn starch just before frying. I’ve experimented with the oil temperature, twice frying and even trying to caramelize the sauce, to no avail.

When I was in China a few years ago on a summer internship from business school, I broke away on several occasions to take cooking lessons. The top technique on my list was learning how to get the crispy chicken nuggets even after they were tossed in sauce. My cooking instructor in Beijing happily obliged me.

The first secret is in the corn starch. He used “wet” corn starch. To make wet corn starch: combine ½ cup of corn starch with enough water to make a slurry, about ½ cup. Let the mix sit for at least ½ hour until the water and starch separate. Pour off all the excess water. What you’re left with is the wet corn starch. It’s slightly chalky, but dissolves into liquid when you run your fingers through it. It is this mixture that he tossed the chicken cubes in before frying.

The second secret, which really isn’t as critical as the first, is in cooking the sauce. The sauce must be reduced until almost all the water has evaporated. It is then reconstituted with a little oil.

4 chicken thighs, cut into cubes
½ teaspoon salt
1 egg
2 tbs dry corn starch
2 ½ tablespoons dark soy sauce
2 tablespoons hoisin
1 tablespoon sugar
1 tablespoon white vinegar
1 ½ teaspoons Shao-Hsing Wine
½ cup wet corn starch
3 cups plain oil
1 teaspoon chopped garlic
1 tablespoon chopped ginger
8 small dried chilies
1 bunch scallions, cut into rings.

Marinate chicken with salt, egg and corn starch for 30 minutes.

Meanwhile, make the sauce by combining the soy sauce, hoisin, sugar, vinegar and wine.

In a large pot, heat the oil to 350F. Toss the chicken in the wet corn starch and then add to the hot oil. Cook until crispy, about 5 minutes.

While the chicken is frying, heat a large skillet over high heat. Add 1 tbs. of frying oil to the pan. Add ginger, garlic, scallions and chilies and cook until aromatic.

When chicken is crispy drain and add to ginger mix. Pour in sauce and reduce.

Serve over rice with steamed broccoli.

Tales from the Farm – The Composting Cycle: From Food to Chicken to Eggs and Back Again

A few years ago, I was driving through the Eastern Shore of Maryland and drove past a Perdue truck. If you have ever seen this, I can assure you, you will never eat commercially processed chicken again. The flat-bed truck transported the chickens, each in an individual cage, 20 cages high. The top chicken is, literally, living high on the hog. The poor chickens on the bottom were coated in droppings from the 19 layers on top. And the birds in the middle are breathing in a toxic fume. It’s no wonder we have to worry about salmonella and other diseases in commercial chicken.

Farmer Brett also raises chickens. By contrast, these chickens are truly free-range. In fact, these chickens have more roaming room than most urban dwellers. And they eat better than most of us too – feasting on a rich diet of organic produce (the non-salable produce), weeds, grain and left-over food from the house. The chickens never receive antibiotics because they are not exposed to disease. Nor do they need growth hormones – they grow the old-fashioned way – with a healthy diet and plenty of exercise.

The chickens serve an important function for the farm. In addition to the obvious eggs and eventual meat, the chickens also help prepare the soil by weeding and creating "natural" compost. The chicken coops are strategically positioned around the barn with adjustable fencing that allows Brett to move the chickens. The chickens happily peck away at the weeds leaving a barren plot. To supplement their diet of weeds and grains, they act as a repository for non-salable produce and left-over food scraps from the house (all the things the rest of us would compost). In exchange, they enrich the soil with nitrogen generated from their, ahem, droppings. Further soil amendments are not required.

Let’s be honest, though, Brett raises chickens for the eggs and the meat. The soil enhancement is a bonus. Once the hens reach menopause, and stop laying eggs, they are “converted” into stewing chickens.

As one might expect, the meat has more flavor -- the result of all that exercise. The “meat”, the primary portion we eat from animals, is muscle – and they’ve developed just like ours when we go to the gym. The meat is darker (from all the blood flow) and with more texture (a euphemism for tougher). The eggs have a firmer texture too. They cook more quickly and fluffy than eggs purchased at the supermarket. The yolks are deep yellow, almost orange.

Over the years, I have taught many aspiring chefs and home cooks how to butcher a chicken. It’s pretty straightforward, I tell them, as long as you cut in the right place: the ligaments are soft and the bones thin. My first attempt at cutting up a chicken from the farm was surprisingly difficult. After a few struggled attempts of redefining butchery, I realized that all the exercise that makes the meat more flavorful, also makes the ligaments and bones stronger.

A fryer chicken, even in the free-range environment, still has some tenderness, because they’re only 6 weeks old. As such, they don’t require as much special attention when cooking. These menopausal hens, at 8 months, need a slow cooking to tenderize and soften the meat.

Here’s my favorite recipe for stewing chicken. I love the simplicity of it, and I usually have everything in my pantry so I can make it on a whim.

Harrira Stew
(serve 4)
serve with raisin cous cous

1 1/2 pound boneless chicken meat, cubed (preferably dark meat)
1 onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, chopped
3 tomatoes, diced, or 10 oz. canned tomatoes
2 1/2 pts. chicken stock or canned broth
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. ground ginger
1/2 tsp. ground cumin
8 oz. canned chick peas
chopped cilantro

red chili flakes or harissa (opt)

Put chicken, onion, garlic, and stock in a large pot. Bring to a boil over high heat. Skim scum. Add spices, tomatoes and chick peas. Reduce heat to simmer, and continue cooking until chicken is done, approximately 30 minutes. Garnish with cilantro and red chili flakes or harissa.

Raisin Cous Cous
2 cups cous cous
2 1/4 cup water or chicken broth
1 tsp. salt
1 shallot, chopped
1/3 cup raisins

1. Put raisins, shallots, water and salt in a pot. Bring to a boil. Pour in cous-cous. Stir to mix and cover the pot. Remove pot from heat, let stand for 5 minutes. Fluff cous cous with a fork.

Harissa
2 tsp. chili flakes
1 clove garlic, chopped
3 tbs. olive oil
2 tsp. ground cumin.

Put everything in a pan. Heat over low heat for about 5 minutes, or until garlic starts to brown. Remove from heat immediately so the garlic does not burn.

Garden to Table: Raspberries

The raspberries are starting to kick into high gear. I’m yet not harvesting enough in any given two day period – which is as long as I can keep them before I start snacking on them -- to make a pie or other berry-laden dessert. I do have enough to significantly embellish muffins or pancakes, which is what I did this morning.

Raspberries grow on thorny sprays of branches. Ripe ones hide under the foliage. To make sure I find all the ripe ones before they mold or rot, I have to inspect the plant from many angles: pushing away branches, lifting leaves and getting behind the plant. With careful inspection, I filled a 6 ounce ramekin with berries in 5 minutes.

I only wash the berries just before using them; otherwise the rotting process is hastened.

My favorite pancake recipe comes from The Joy of Cooking.

1 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. salt
3 tbs. sugar
1 tbs. baking powder
1 ½ cup milk
2 eggs, lightly beaten
3 tbs. melted butter
Butter for cooking as needed.

1. Sift dry ingredients together into a bowl and make a well in the center.

2. Mix wet ingredients. Pour into well of dry ingredients. Mix until just incorporated.

3. Heat pan over medium heat. Add butter. Ladle in about 2 oz. of batter per pancake. Cook for about 3 minutes. Flip, continue cooking. Serve immediately, or keep warm in a 200 oven until ready to serve.

For the raspberry pancakes, I dot each spoon of batter with berries.

When I’ve finished making all the pancakes, I add the remaining berries to the pan along with some maple syrup.

I pour the berry-syrup over the pancakes just before serving.

Garden to Table: 30 minutes

Digging for Gold

I love experimenting with Asian cuisine, especially Chinese recipes. I try to keep my pantry stocked with all sorts of spices and condiments so that when the mood strikes, I’m prepared to follow any direction. Friends have often commented that my refrigerator looks like it belongs to a Chinese grandmother and not a Jewish thirty-something. In the summer, my “pantry” is further supplied by growing scallions, cilantro and ginger in my garden. Yes, ginger.

We’ve all experienced this… we go to the market and buy a knob of ginger knowing that we only need an inch of it for any given recipe. The rest gets buried in the bottom of the vegetable crisper. And while it’s not so much waste that we should feel guilty, we still hope to use it up before it turns shriveled and mold. Some have suggested freezing ginger, but this sufficiently alters the composition that when eventually cooking with it, the aromas are a little more difficult to coax out.

During the summer, the best storage method is in the ground. I take a regular, ole supermarket hand of ginger and bury it in the garden. Invariably, I forget the exact location. The next time a recipe calls for ginger, I forage in the dirt until I find it. Fortunately, after a few weeks, the ginger as it continues to grow, shoots out sprouts to announce its location. After I break off what I need, I re-bury it in the ground again. This resilient rhizome continues to grow despite the multiple disruptions.

You can see the sprouts are attached to young ginger. The skin is thinner than "older" ginger, the flavor is more mild and the ginger itself is less fiberous.

A note of caution: One winter, I experimented with growing ginger in a pot indoors, and leaving a hand outside, buried. The ginger inside turned mushy, fiberous and hollow: a disaster. The wintered-over ginger was equally disastrous. If you've had success growing ginger in the winter in a snowy climate, I'd love to hear about it.

For more insight on fresh ginger, visit Lydia's blogs: The Perfect Pantry and Nine Cooks.

Thanks, Lydia, for taking great photos!

Peanut Dipping Sauce

This is great for an Asian style crudités or Chicken Satay.

5 tbs. fresh ginger, chopped
3 tbs. lemon grass, chopped
3 tbs. garlic, chopped
3 tbs. shallots, chopped
1 tbs peanut oil
chicken stock
10 oz. raw peanuts, toasted
1 tbs. mirin
½ lime, juiced
2 tbs. rice wine vinegar
3 tbs. soy sauce
2 tbs fresh cilantro chopped

1. Sweat 3 tbs. of ginger with lemon grass, garlic and shallots in peanut oil

2. Puree above in a food processor with peanuts, remaining ginger, and chicken stock to thin.

3. Season with lime juice, rice vinegar, mirin and soy sauce. Adjust seasoning to taste.

4. Stir in fresh cilantro

Recipes for the Impatient Gardener

I’ve always known my garden is a few weeks behind everyone else. As I spy the neighbors’ yards in early spring when the crocuses start to burst, mine are still under a mound of snow. And when I go to the farmers markets, they already have mounds of zucchini, while I only have flowers. Their kohlrabi is just winding down, and mine still has a few weeks to go before harvest. Nonetheless, I’m eager to push the garden along.

Two weeks ago, I reported that the tomatoes had flowered, but not produced fruit. A little on-line research yielded a useful tip… Cut the leaves below the first flower. This enables to the plant to focus its energies on producing fruit as opposed to maintaining the foliage. Sure enough, two days later the first bump of a tomato emerged. Now all tomato plants show fruit, though still several weeks away from ripeness.

At dinner Thursday night at Garden at the Cellar, we munched on Fried Green Tomatoes with Smoked Paprika Aioli. One friend opined that the origins of this dish come from resourceful gardeners using up end-of-the-season tomatoes before the first frost hit. Knowing the tomatoes wouldn’t have a chance to ripen, they picked and fried them. To offer this dish seasonally, it should only appear on menus in the fall. I would counter that fried green tomatoes are also a great option for the impatient gardener looking to cook something before the crops are truly ripe. Should you go this route, be sure to pick the tomatoes when the green has a “matte” finish. Once they become shiny, they’ve reached a different level of maturity and will get mushy when cooked.

Zucchini is the ideal crop for the impatient gardener. The plant produces flowers at a prolific rate. Most flowers are male and will not produce a vegetable, so there’s no harm in harvesting them. If the flower is attached to a thick stem, likely it will produce a squash. For me, I’m happy to just eat the flowers. I know in a few weeks, I’ll be up to my eyeballs in squash and peddling them the way I did sage.

Fried Green Tomatoes with a Squash Blossom Relish.
3 green tomatoes
½ cup buttermilk
1/2 cup fine corn meal
½ cup flour
1 tsp. salt
¼ tsp. pepper
Pinch cayenne
2 slices bacon
2 garlic cloves
1 tsp. capers
12 squash blossoms, stamen removed
2 tbs. canola oil

Slice tomatoes about ¼ inch thick. Soak in buttermilk. Season cornmeal with salt, pepper and cayenne.

Dice bacon, and cook in a skillet until the bacon starts to render fat, and the bacon just starts to look crispy. Add garlic and cook for until the garlic is lightly golden. Pour off any excess bacon fat and set aside. Add capers and squash blossoms and set aside.

In a large skillet, heat oil with leftover bacon fat. Dust tomatoes slices in the cornmeal dredge. Add to oil, and cook on the first side until golden brown, about 5 minutes on medium high heat. Flip and cook for 3 minutes more.

Drain tomato slices on a paper towel and serve with chutney.

Cooking from the Larder and Garden

Perhaps it’s a combination of rising food prices, my concern about the impact of wasted food on the environment (both up and down stream) or my general laziness to do anything in the heat of summer. In the past 24 hours I needed to cook 2 meals – dinner for myself and breakfast with a friend – and I decided to cook with what I have in the house.

What I have in the house is limited. Further complicating matter is that I like to have vegetables at every meal, but I don’t typically keep them on hand. My schedule is varied enough that I only buy things that will keep for at least a week or two. Fresh vegetables, which decline rapidly, I buy on an “as-needed” basis. The garden is still in the early summer lull – the spring crops are over, the summer crops haven’t yet ripened.

I piecemeal together the vegetables:

• Canned tomatoes from last years’ crop. Organic, truly vine-ripened. And since they’re really “jarred” they don’t have that tinny taste like commercially processed tomatoes. The yellow tomatoes won’t give a vibrant color to a meal, but they are exceedingly delicious.
• A few squash blossoms. As I just learned, zucchinis give off male and female flowers. The female flowers produce the vegetable, the males… well, the males don’t do much. J. The ratio of female to male is typically 1:5. Given that, I have no compunction about snagging all the blossoms that don’t have fruit behind them. That’s about a dozen over the course of two days.
• The celery is not yet fully sized, but I could probably lop off a stalk or two without harming the rest.
• The snow pea plant will be dug up in a few days, so I can snip off what’s left of the tender leaves and the last few peas.

The larder is pretty well stocked: eggs, milk, pastry crust, bacon, cheese, bread, black beans. And I have some left-over grilled vegetables – ¼ of a zucchini (from the farmers market) and ¼ of a bell pepper.

For the first meal, my dinner, the solution is obvious and easy: I pureed the canned tomatoes, warmed them and served it as soup with a grilled cheese sandwich. I garnished with some squash blossoms and fresh basil.

For the breakfast, quiche seemed like a great option because I have crusts in the freezer (left over from the strawberry-rhubarb pies. I could make a variation on an Alsatian Quiche with onions, bacon and cheddar (instead of gruyere). Instead, I opt for “summer vegetable.” I like that I can use up some leftover grilled vegetables, another can of tomatoes (I have about 8 pints left from last summer that I need to use before this year’s canning adventure begins) and the basil and scallions from the garden. The onions and bacon will keep for another meal.

Summer Vegetable Quiche

Pie Crust
1 ½ cups milk or half-n-half
½ cup pureed tomatoes
3 eggs
1 cup left-over summer vegetables: zucchini, red peppers, snap peas, celery etc.
½ cup cheddar cheese grated
Fresh basil, chopped
Fresh scallions, chopped
1/2 tsp. Salt
1/4 tsp. pepper

1. Combine milk and tomato puree in a sauce pot. Heat over medium flame until small bubble form on the edges.
2. While milk is heating, whisk eggs. Slowly drizzle milk into egg mixture until combine. Season with salt and pepper
3. Line pie pan with pie dough. Sprinkle vegetables, cheese and herbs on top. Pour egg mixture over the vegetables until the pie shell is full
4. Bake at 350 for 20 minutes or until quiche is set.

Dining at O Ya - Better Bring the Dough-Ya

O Ya – a Japanese restaurant on the edge of Chinatown with an American chef. It opened just a year ago to great fanfare when the New York Times restaurant critic Frank Bruni named it one of the 10 best new restaurants in the country. The buzz around Boston was that it rivals Oishii both in creativity, refinement and price. I clearly don’t have a problem spending money on good food (as I wrote about here and here), and if the food rivals Oishii, the place of my first culinary “petit mort,” you can count me in!

The cozy room seats around 40 people with 10 more at the sushi bar. Perched at the bar you can watch the three chefs – one for sashimi, one for nigiri, and the third for other appetizers – create culinary masterpieces. You can also peer into the spotless kitchen.

The density of the menu reminds me of the neighboring Chinese restaurant tomes. On one side of a single page menu, lists dozens of styles of nigiri and sashimi. Though, they offer traditional preparations, it seems silly in a place like this to not trust the chef’s creativity. On the other side are categories for waygu beef, pork, vegetables, chicken, truffles and a few other things. With the least expensive nigiri at $8, I was careful in my selections to make the best choices for my money – I knew the bill would add up quickly.

The intrigue ended with the arrival of the first dish. Enoki Mushroom nigiri was served with wild asparagus and a soy glaze. The two fingers had a lovely earthy, sweet scent. The wild asparagus was a fun visual addition, but with the strong flavors of soy and mushrooms, its appeal was lost. And for $12 I was disappointed. Two pieces of Wild Santa Barbara Spot Prawn came in at $20, and they were torched until cooked through. I had hoped for the raw creaminess that makes shrimp sushi so pleasing.

As I perused the menu for further selections, I wondered if it were possible to satiate my admittedly ample appetite for under $100. Three bite-size pieces of chicken thigh yakatori came in at $16 – though I will forgive this one for the generous slices of black truffle. I was down-right insulted when the soft shell crab arrived – only ½ a crab – also for $16.

No soy sauce or wasabi adorned a dish, nor were they served on the side. The kitchen did not send out any amuse bouche that would suggest that the $16 soft shell crab was also bank-rolling other refinements. In the end, two of us ate 6 small plate, drank a modest $40 bottle of wine and spent $105 each.

The flavors were lovely, though with small portions and none of the extra flourishes that Oishii offers, I doubt I’ll return unless someone else picks up the tab. And even then, I’m not sure… I wouldn’t want to take advantage of someone’s good nature in treating me to a meal.

Baking for Non-Bakers

Culinarians and Business-People are divided into two categories: cooks and bakers. Cooks are free-form and whimsical in their approach – a little of this, a pinch of that. Precision is not necessary, and often balked at. Bakers, on the other hand, are very structured. Recipes must be followed precisely to get the desired result. An extra pinch of salt could ruin a dessert, whereas with a savory dish, it could further enhance.

I am a cook! The exclamation point comes as a result of the only time I was fired from a job: as a pastry chef. Despite this setback, throughout my career, I’ve needed to make desserts – when at Chez Henri and the pastry chef was on vacation, the task fell on me. Or as a private chef, I always made my own desserts. I’ve learned to get by, and by home-cook standards, I’m pretty good. By professional standards, well… I’m a cook not a baker.

I have a few desserts that always impress. Their simple preparations don’t require the same level of precision as many other desserts. Surprisingly, one of my favorites comes courtesy of Thomas Keller. To be sure, he is not known for his simplicity. Each dish, each dessert, has several different components. The trick, for me, has been to determine where the line of diminishing returns is.

Thomas Keller, of French Laundry fame, dolls up the French classic, “Ile Flottante” by filling them with chocolate mousse. Ile Flottant, or floating islands in English, are poached meringues “swimming in a sea” of crème anglaise. He elevates it further by serving them with chocolate tuiles, mint oil and a chocolate shaving salad seasoned with sea salt. I opt against the tuiles and the chocolate salad. Instead of mint oil, I sprinkle freshly julienned mint for both the color contrast and flavor. I take my own liberties by adding Tahitian vanilla to the meringue which gives the dessert an expansive, yet melt-in-your-mouth feeling, almost like cotton candy.

Floating Islands Filled with Chocolate Mousse

5 egg whites (save yolks for crème anglaise)
1 cup sugar
½ Tahitian Vanilla Bean

3 egg yolks
4 tablespoons sugar
1 cup half-n-half
½ Tahitian vanilla bean

3 ounces dark chocolate, melted
¾ cup heavy cream

Berries and Mint for Garnish

1. Make meringue: Combine egg whites and 1 cup sugar in a mixing bowl. Set over simmering water and whisk until sugar dissolves and the mixture is about 110 degrees (slightly warmer than body temperature). Remove from heat and whisk with an electric mixer until stiff peaks form. Set aside ½ cup.

2. Brush 6 ramekins with oil. Fill each ramekin with the remaining meringue. Put in a baking pan with high sides. Fill the baking pan with water to come up half way on the ramekins. Cover with foil.

3. Bake meringues for 30 minutes at 300F. Remove ramekins from water bath, and let set in the refrigerator for 2 hours.

4. Meanwhile, make the crème anglaise: Heat half-n-half over medium heat with the vanilla bean. Whisk the egg yolk and the sugar. When small bubbles form around the edges of the pot, slowly drizzle the half-n-half into the yolks while whisking vigorously. Return the entire mix to the pot and continue cooking over medium heat, while stirring constantly, until it starts to thicken. Remove from heat instantly and let cool.

5. Make the chocolate mousse: Whip the cream until stiff peaks with an electric mixer. One third at a time, fold the cream into the chocolate. When completely combined, fold the reserved meringue into the chocolate mix.

6. Hollow out the inside of the cooked meringues with a spoon, making sure to keep the exterior intact. Fill the cavity with the chocolate mousse. Refrigerate until ready to serve.

7. To serve, invert the floating islands onto a plate. Spoon crème anglaise around. Garnish with mint and berries.

Adventures in Sweet Potatoes

Four Burgers opened up just a month ago in Central Square with the mission of serving high quality, simply prepared burgers and fries. In this modern era of eco-friendly dining, they do the right thing by composting, recycling, and serving ingredients with known provenance. The net result, for the most part, is fabulous: Juicy, meaty burgers with flavorful toppings and fries that taste like potatoes.

There’s been a small hiccup in the business—and that has been the sweet potato fries. While most would agree that anything fried and salted is better, these fries suffer in that they never get really crispy. Short of coating them with a non-organic/unnatural substance (as many lesser burger joints do), the options are somewhat limited. The composition of the sweet potatoes creates a layered challenge with sugar, starch and water issues at play.

Food science research leaves a gaping hole in this domain. For regular potatoes, culinary experiments have yielded the best technique… first soaking the potatoes in water to rinse some of the excess starch, cooking the potatoes a first time in 325F oil and then a second cooking in 375F oil to crisp them. Intermediate refrigeration between frying further alters the starches which better enables a crispy fry. Researchers have discovered that Idaho potatoes are the best variety, and farmers have refined the genetics to consistently produce a fail-safe potato. What works for regular fried potatoes does not translate to sweet potatoes because of the starch, sugar and water content. And while there are a few sweet potato varieties out there (White Hamon) that are better suited, they are not mass marketed, leaving the small restaurateur to experiment with the readily available varieties.

The starch issue is a complicated one… And after researching in Harold McGee’s On Food and Cooking, I discover this is more complicated than I can address with chain starches and branch starches and the chemical reactions of both.

The water and sugar contents pose a more straight-forward challenge. As we know, moisture is the enemy of crispy [[Think about meringues on a humid day or fried eggplant]]. In order to get “watery” foods crispy, we must first batter them to prevent the moisture from seeping out and soggying the crust. Sweet potatoes get crispy in tempura batter because they are sufficiently coated. Alternatively, in the case of regular potatoes, the minimal water evaporates before the fry crisps up – creating a fry with long-lasting crispiness. This is when the challenge of the sugar content kicks in: Sugar begins to caramelize about at 334F and starts turning bitter at 363F. This narrow window limits the opportunity for the sweet potato fry to rid itself of excess moisture and get crispy.

Armed with this (somewhat limited) knowledge base, Michael B. (owner of Four Burgers) and I entered the kitchen to begin experimenting. Our baseline was a sweet potato fry that was cooked in 350F oil until golden brown and soft in the middle. The fry was mildly crispy straight out of the oil, but quickly turned limp. The first wave of experiments involved coating the raw fries with a type of starch that would help absorb moisture and increase the starches that would crispy up the fries. We tried corn, wheat and potato starches. And with a nod to the tempura batter, we also made a mix of corn and wheat flours. The best yield was the corn starch. Straight out of the fryer, the potato was crispier than the original, but soon met a similar fate of limpness – though the crisp to limp time gap was greater. Other starches provided minimal improvement. The biggest complaint was that the floury coating took away from the flavor and “Mouth feel” of the potatoes.

The second round of experiments involved drying the potato first before frying. First, we “par-” fried the potatoes the way regular fries are. This seemed to produce a crispy fry but we soon realized that this extra step was minimal better than the baseline, and not worth the effort.

Par-Baking the potatoes yielded the best result. The potatoes dried out with a gentle heat. Unlike the fryer, the drying process did not brown (i.e. caramelize the sugars in) the potatoes. By the time we put them in the fryer, they crisped up quickly and stayed crispy.

Special thanks to Michael B. and his staff for allowing me to play in their kitchen! Stop by, have a burger and fries and let me know what you think!

Farmers' Market Report, Part 2: The Beet Goes On

Beets get a bad rap, though I’m not sure where it comes from. Perhaps it’s a hold-over from the days when the only variety available were canned, leaving them mushy, salty and bland. To me, they are a perfect balance of firm, refreshing texture with a sweet, earthy flavor. Best of all, they are nutritious, so I feel downright virtuous when I consume a bowlful like candy.

Last week, beets appeared at the market. They were shamefully small, and I couldn’t imagine there’d be much left after peeling. As much as I love beets, it seemed the farmers were rushing the process. This week, however, they were decidedly larger. With the greens still attached I know they are freshly harvested -- beets that have been in storage have the tops cut off as they wither in a few days.

Like tomatoes, beets come in a variety of colors, shapes and sizes – candy striped with white rings, golden, pink and red. They range in sweetness, the red sometimes cloying by comparison to the lighter colors.

Roasting beets intensifies the flavors and the sweetness. It also makes peeling easier. Before roasting, be sure to scrub the beets well to remove all the dirt. Toss them in some olive oil, wrap in foil, and bake in a 350 oven for an hour or so. Lately, my favorite preparation has been roasted with bacon and onions. While the beets are roasting, I sauté bacon and onions together until the bacon is crisp and the onions are caramelized. When the beets are cooked, I peel and slice them and toss them in the bacon-onion mix. Seasoned with a little lemon juice or mint, they are the perfect accompaniment to salmon (Crusted with pistachios and horseradish) or a pasta carbonara with peas or asparagus. Pureed with a little olive oil or chicken stock, it makes a delightful sauce for just about anything.

Beets with goat cheese are a classic combination. The tart, creaminess of the cheese balances with the sweet, firm texture of the beets. Though, I don’t eat nuts, walnuts add both texture and flavor that some say is the perfect compliment.

Of course, beets stain exceptionally well – hands, cutting boards and clothing. The best remedy is to wash with a paste of cold water and baking soda. Not only does it remove the red from your hands, it leaves them soft as well.

Beets and Goat Cheese Napolean with Buttered Walnuts

Beets
1 lb. red beets
2 tbs. olive oil
1 red onion, finely diced
1 tbs. red wine vinegar
1-2 tbs. fresh chopped thyme
4 oz. creamy goat cheese
salt and pepper to taste

1. Put beets in a pot and cover in cold water. Season water with salt. Bring to a boil over high heat. Reduce heat to a simmer. Continue cooking for 30 minutes, or until skins easily peel off.

2. When beets are cooked, cool under cold running water. Peel beets. Slice. Toss beets with red onions, vinegar, olive oil and thyme.

3. Put beets on a plate, and dollop goat cheese on top. Garnish with mesclun and buttered walnuts

Balsamic Mesclun
1 pound mesclun
3 tbs. balsamic vinegar
1 tsp. shallots
1 tsp. thyme
1 tsp. mustard
½ cup + extra virgin olive oil
pinch sugar
salt and pepper to taste

Put balsamic, shallots, thyme and mustard in a blender. Puree. With the motor running, slowly drizzle in the oil. Season to taste with salt, pepper and sugar

Buttered Walnuts
1 cup walnuts
2 or more tbs. butter
salt and pepper

Melt butter in skillet. Toss in walnuts and toast until lightly browned and fragrant. Season with salt and pepper.

Farmers Market - Part 1: Zucchini and Squash Blooms

Zucchini and other summer squashes proliferate in the garden at an astonishing rate. This plays out in the supermarket when the price plummets from $2/pound to $.49/pound during peak season. Grocers practically give it away, and home gardeners usually do.

For me, this is good news since most markets (farmers’ or traditional brick and mortar) don’t sell squash blossoms – the flower that precedes the vegetable. And with their prolific growth rate, I may actually get enough flowers to serve a meal to more than one guest. The few times I’ve seen them in the markets they can cost $1/each.

I’ve seen squash blossoms in Native American, Mexican and Italian Cuisines. This suggests to me that they are not a faddish new vegetable… they have been enjoyed for centuries. In Oaxaca, Mexico, Squash blossoms are a frequent filling for Quesadillas or a garnish for tortilla soup.

Harvesting squash blossoms requires careful timing. You want them before they bloom, though sometimes it’s tough to distinguish between a bloom that