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Archive for August, 2010

Summer might call to mind lazy afternoons by the swimming hole, the creaky slam of a screen door, and the distant sound of children running through sprinklers, but for those of us involved in the business of food, there’s a distinct sense of urgency associated with tomatoes, peaches, berries, peppers, squash, cucumbers and sweet corn. Summer produce seems to ripen all at once, and comes on in massive quantities for an all-too-brief time. At the exact time when you want to be drowsily trailing the tips of your fingers in a cool stream, eyes half closed while someone else paddles the boat, someone instead comes in from the garden with a tub full of gorgeous heirloom tomatoes or sweet peppers that demand to be eaten, cooked, canned, or otherwise dealt with . . . right now. This is not food that is willing to wait, nor will it really be around long enough to allow being taken for granted or forgotten til later. The floral spiciness of a fresh sweet pepper, the crisp juicy crunch of a ripe pear, or the wine-dark tartness of a juicy, sun-warmed tomato make us forgiving of such demands, even in the hottest part of the day.
What do we do with all the riches the garden bestows in summer? I find myself inordinately pleased with myself when I remember a recipe that uses it all, and this was the game I played in the kitchen on Sunday night—use it all! Jars of minestrone, gazpacho, Southern chow-chow relish, peach chutney, and caramelized onions crowd the refrigerator shelves, and, thankfully, we hardly have to lift a finger all week. I love gazpacho for breakfast in the summer—energizing and refreshing, spooned from a giant glass jar while standing alone in the quiet kitchen, shivery cool, like air conditioning for my insides after the run that was too hot even before 10:00.  Later in the day, a dinner like this one, that doesn’t require turning on the stove or distract from marathon cooking and preserving sessions is a true blessing.
The true payoff for such demands is that this is food that requires very little. Is there much that I can do to a tomato to make it better? To a peach? This is the time of year when we think of ourselves less as cooks or kitchen artistes than as caretakers, facilitators of the perfection of what nature has created with sun and soil and water and human sweat. It is the time we are asked most urgently to be home, to connect, to preserve what we have been given, to say yes to color and flavor and sunshine and canning jars.

Warm Chicken Salad with Peppers, Pears & Toasted Pinenuts

Leftover roast chicken, wrapped in foil and re-warmed at 350 (save juices and drippings)

1 bunch of arugula, washed and torn

2 pears, sliced paper thin

4-6 small sweet peppers, slivered

1/4 c. pine nuts, toasted

2 Tbs. minced rosemary

2 shallots, sliced thin

juice of 1/2 lemon

2 Tbs. sherry vinegar

1 Tbs. whole grain mustard

1/2 c. olive oil

Combine chicken, arugula, peppers, pears and pine nuts in a large bowl.  Place rosemary, lemon juice, sherry vinegar & mustard in a small bowl and whisk to combine.  Continue whisking while slowly drizzling in olive oil until emulsified.  Whisk in roast chicken juices/drippings.  Add dressing to salad and toss until well combined.  Serve at once.

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In the days when I cooked for a living, people often asked, “Where did you go to cooking school?” They were always disappointed to hear that instead of attending the Culinary Institute of America side-by-side with Anthony Bourdain and Mario Batali, I instead have a master’s degree in medieval literature, although probably not quite as disappointed as the folks who financed that education. I always say I can answer any of the brown questions on Trivial Pursuit with about 95% accuracy, so the expensive education was not a complete waste.  Cooking was something I always did “on the side,” until I couldn’t stand it any longer and decided to immerse myself in food 24 hours a day, 7 days a week as a full-time (and then some) cook and restaurant owner, and then as a produce buyer and co-owner of Farmhouse Delivery.

Before all that, though, I taught 8th grade English for three years, perhaps the most challenging and rewarding years of my adult life.  Eighth graders are fascinating creatures—each day was a journey through uncharted territory, and connecting with fresh, creative, curious minds was a daily joy.  Why did I leave teaching, then?  In addition to the daily joys, there were also the long hours, the endless stack of essays, the sometimes overwhelming sense of futility, the repetitiveness, the being confined to a closed classroom all day, the beaurocracy . . . and the food sucked.

I brought my own lunch each day, but I was horrified to discover what the children were eating in the cafeteria.  Packaged, processed, sugary, and worse. I always enjoyed the rousing period just after lunch when my hormone-crazed classroom had consumed copious amount of Jolt Cola (“All the Sugar & Twice the Caffeine!”) and Mountain Dew.  Yes, not only was it approved for consumption, it was offered in machines in the hallway!  Eighth Graders!  Double Caffeine!

Somehow, five or six years later, when my own children begged to order food from the cafeteria, I forgot about the microwaved cheeseburgers assembled in some far-away factory, the orange “drink,” the high fructose corn syrup, and I agreed. When I asked that afternoon how they had liked it, Tess said, “The peaches were weird.  Not like your peaches.”

“What do you mean?” I asked

She shrugged, “They were ok, I guess, but they were kind of slippery and wet.”

Oh, right—I wish I could remember my first encounter with “heavy syrup.” That was the end of school lunches for my children. I discovered that what they loved about eating in the cafeteria was the autonomy, the sense of control over their own food choices. I am ever the fan of the teachable moment, so together we sat down and made a menu of choices—healthy, but fun—and each week, they placed their “orders” with me. Homemade pimiento cheese with roasted peppers and toasted pecans is a special favorite in the fall.  No more wet peaches.

I’m happy to have at least partially solved the lunch problem in my own home, but school lunches continue to be a concern for me, and should be for all of us, whether we have children in school or not. Many, if not most, of the children I taught all those years ago, ate their only real, hot meals of the day at school. Breakfast in the cafeteria was crowded, and tardiness was hardly ever an issue. The children came to school on time because they were hungry. Lunch did not wind up in the trash. Cafeteria trays were empty at the end of lunch. No school meant no breakfast and no lunch. It’s one thing to imagine junky food in the abstract, or as something that kids eat as part of an otherwise balanced, real food diet. But think of the real implications. We tell our nation’s children, “You are what you eat!” and then we feed them junk. What kind of message are we sending? What kind of nation are we creating? There’s a lot about public education that needs fixing, but let’s not forget what’s broken in the cafeteria too. Our children are not junk, and they all deserve better. Take action; send a message.

There are lots of folks right here in Austin who are working hard to make innovative changes for nutrition and real food in our schools.  I never cease to be amazed what the heros in our school system can do with an almost nonexistent budget.

Pimiento Cheese with Roasted Peppers & Toasted Pecans

plate by talented & lovely Farmhouse Delivery farm member Alyson Fox–to buy visit Alyson Fox Design

1 pound cheese, grated–I like a mix of white cheddar and colby

4-6 sweet peppers, roasted, peeled and chopped

2 small hot peppers (remove seeds and membranes for less heat), minced

1/3 c pecans, toasted and chopped

1/4 c. mayo

freshly ground black pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in a large bowl and serve with toasted ciabatta or crusty whole wheat sandwich bread.  Life-changing with juicy, ripe tomato slices.

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Late-summer crops are always full of memories.  Perhaps because I spent so much of my childhood summers in Louisiana with my grandparents, or perhaps just because summer cooking took over my grandmother’s life and filled her house with the steamy scents of roasting okra and frying catfish.  Summer afternoons were spent among endless jars of pickled okra, cool, crisp watermelon, juicy, ripe tomatoes, and peach preserves.  These are the taste memories that are strongest for me, and summer is the time I most often remember that I am a Southern girl, one who grew up on the sandy soil of Southwest Louisiana.

Not long ago, I discovered the lush and deeply evocative writing of Edna Lewis.  Her classic, The Taste of Country Cooking, is a gorgeously written history (in the guise of a cookbook) of a vanished time and place. Lewis, the granddaughter of freed slaves who went on to become a hugely successful New York city chef, recounts growing up in Freetown, Virginia—a place and time captured for us in the gorgeous prose and dreamy amber of her memory. Her recipes and stories are divided into seasons, and she recounts the joys of the first asparagus in spring—the taste must have been so alive, so green after months of winter when the ground yielded nothing fresh to eat. She talks about catching shad—fish that came from the ocean to the inland waterways to spawn in the spring. That was the only fish they ever had, and it only appeared in the spring. It was such a treat that it was served for breakfast. Summer brought watermelon cooled in the spring, and hand-churned ice cream. Fall brought earthy root vegetables and game, while winter meant long evenings near the fire and long-simmered holiday dinners. Each season had its rhythms, its joys, its celebrations, and its inevitable losses as one season waned to make room for the joys of another, the pain of loss forever salved by the glorious recompense of nature.

I Read Edna Lewis and remember that, for all its miserable heat, summer is a season to be celebrated too.  As enchanted as I often am with the cuisines and dishes of far-off places (and even though this week’s recipe borrows heavily from those far-off places), and while many writers assert that the United States has no food traditions or culture of its own, I am truly grateful to Miss Lewis for reminding me that I am from a place that has deep roots and taste memories, a place I am forever glad to call home.

Melon & Cucumber Salad with Crispy Shallots, Peanuts and Thai Vinaigrette

Shamelessly adapted from Olivia Restaurant

3 c. large chunks red watermelon

3 c. large chunks ripe canteloupe

2 cucumbers, peeled, seeded and sliced

2 large shallots, cut into thin rings and fried til crisp

1/4 c. roasted peanuts, chopped

1/4 c. fresh mint, chopped

1/4 c. thai basil, chopped

1/4 c. thai fish sauce

juice of 1 lime

pinch red pepper flakes

2-4 tsp. sugar, to taste

Combine fish sauce, lime, pepper flakes and sugar.  Whisk until sugar is dissolved.  Taste and adjust flavors as desired.  Combine melon chunks, cucumber, and herbs, add vinaigrette and toss to coat.  Place in serving bowl or on platter and top with peanuts and crispy shallots. Garnish with additional herbs if desired.

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