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Lamb Chops with Winter Greek Salad

February 8, 2011 by farmhousetableblog

There is a well-worn story in my family about the time I was taken to the zoo at six years old.  The monkeys capered, the giraffes stretched their necks, the peacocks preened, the seals clapped and tossed balls, and the lions roared.  I never saw any of it, though, because I spent the entire time picking up litter and worrying about people stepping on the ants.  My mother always finishes the story with a sigh, saying, “I might as well have stayed home.”

It  surprised no one in my family that the local food movement touched off a smoldering fire inside of me that continues to rage to this day.  The issues surrounding what we eat are the critical issues of our day: the economy, corporate supremacy, social justice issues, health, and the environment.  Most of us understand what’s wrong with our food system.  Many of us want to do something about it, but it may no longer be enough to “vote with our fork.”  Five years ago, I felt like if I could make food choices with integrity, I could make a difference.  I could teach my children about real food, I could support farmers and ranchers using sustainable practices, and I could make sure that food mattered to my family, that we continued to have reverence for an earth that provided us with good things to eat and offered a daily opportunity to come together and connect around the dinner table.  But now, I know that’s not enough.

Because, what we are up against is the cosmic, colossal arrogance of a corporation who thinks it can create and own genetic material, no matter what havoc it wreaks on the earth.  And this corporation has the full support of our government.  The genie is out of the bottle.  Soon it will be too late to stop the impact of genetically modified organisms on the planet.  Is it possible that we will hand over our right to grow and eat the food we want, the health of our planet, the future of our children to Monsanto?  The sad fact is that even with a petition 100,000 voices strong asking President Obama and Secretary of Agriculture Vilsack to reject Monsanto’s genetically modified alfalfa based on concerns for consumer health, impacts to the environment and lack of adequate scientific testing, they still chose to cave to corporate pressure rather than protect the rights of America’s farmers and citizens.  Will we stand for this?

Hell, NO!  How do you start a revolution?  By learning, by speaking out, and by joining others in the fight against injustice.  We cannot be complacent, we must be vigilant, we must care.  Let your voice be counted.  Please join me in the fight–I’ll see you at the capitol!  Be sure to eat a good dinner, too.  That fork still wields lots of power.

(see resources at the end of this post)

Lamb Chops with Winter Greek Salad

4 lamb loin chops

salt & pepper

small handful of mint leaves

small handful of Italian parsley leaves

2 cloves garlic, cushed and chopped

olive oil

For winter greek salad:

2 c. cauliflower florets, cut into small pieces and blanched briefly

1 small apple, cut into 1/2″ cubes

1 small bunch green onions, chopped

6-8 dry-cured black olive or kalamtas

small handful Italian parsley

juice of 1 lemon

olive oil

salt & pepper if needed

2-4 ounces feta cheese, cut into 1/2″ cubes

To grill lamb chops, season with salt and pepper.  Chop mint, and parsley,  Stir together with garlic and olive oil and set aside to marinate while you prepare the salad.  For the salad, combine cauliflower, apple, green onion, and parsley in a medium bowl.  Toss with olive oil and lemon juice, then set aside.  Heat charcoal grill or grill pan until hot.  Scrape the marinade off the lamb chops, and grill over medium-high heat until cooked to desired doneness (I prefer medium-rare).  Set aside to rest while you finish the salad.  Toss cauliflower mixture with feta cheese cubes.  Taste for salt and pepper, but keep in mind that the olives are very salty.  Pit olives and cut or tear into small slivers.  Place salad  on serving dish and sprinkle olives on top.  Serve Greek salad alongside chops.

Learn about GMOs:

Seeds of Deception

Organic Consumers Organization

Say No to GMOs

Speak Out:

Food Democracy Now! (this site makes it very easy to stay informed and get involved–sign up and you’ll receive emails with opportunities to sign petitions and scripts to call or write your legislators)

Join Others in the Fight:

Farm and Ranch Freedom Alliance (Judith McGeary works tirelessly to protect the rights of farmers, ranchers and consumers. Donate, support, and join us at the Texas Capitol on February 21st to help educate legislators about the changes we need to support local food).

And vote with your fork, too!

Posted in Recipes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment »

Sicilian Cauliflower Salad

January 28, 2011 by farmhousetableblog

I have a confession to make . . . my kitchen is filled with processed food.  Pancake mix, frozen waffles, canned chicken broth, prepared breadcrumbs, canned tomatoes, frozen vegetables, and all manner of little jars and bags of “flavor enhancers.”  But, ha!  Before you condemn me, let me also say that while my life is made infinitely easier by all these little cheats and shortcuts, I am off the hook, because I have processed it all myself.  It would be impossible for me to feed my family efficiently, healthfully, and deliciously, without all these mother’s little helpers, but that does not mean that I am willing to succumb to factory-produced salad dressings, packaged foods filled with chemical preservatives, and the like.

It’s all really just a matter of thinking ahead and using the freezer efficiently.  The only real altercations my husband and I have had occurred when we were first married and he repeatedly threw away all my little kitchen dibs and dabs that, to his neat-freak eyes, looked like garbage.  A roasted chicken carcass?  ”That’s like money in the bank, and you threw it away???”  I would screech.  The leftover vinaigrette in the bowl after dinner—down the drain?  Well, mister, we’ll just see how you like your crunchy broccoli and grilled shrimp pasta salad without dressing when you eat lunch tomorrow!  The first mantra of a prepared chef is, first and foremost:  Do Not Throw Anything Away.  I know, I know, no one likes leftovers (including me).  But here’s a different way of looking at things.  Turn leftovers into something else, and then they are no longer leftovers, but pre-prepped ingredients.  Leftover pot roast?  Shred the meat, sauté onions and garlic, and add to crushed tomatoes and wine for an amazing ragu that’s divine with papparadelle.  Last night’s vegetable side dish becomes tomorrow’s savory vegetable soup with the addition of a little chicken broth and some cannellini beans—grate a little parmesan on top and serve with hot crusty bread.  Bacon leftover at breakfast?  Crumble, chop, and stir into savory scones with a little grated cheddar, or add to smashed potatoes, or crumble on top of a tomato risotto.  This is how we save money and stretch flavor.  If you don’t have plans for using these leftovers right away, store them in freezer bags or containers, carefully label, and freeze for a night when you are pressed for time, or the cupboard looks bare.

The second rule of thumb is this: when you’re making a little, go ahead and make a lot.  When we make waffles on weekend mornings, there’s always batter left in the bowl after everyone’s been served.  It’s no extra work at all to go ahead and cook more waffles with what’s left (even make a double batch), cool, then freeze for weekday mornings.  Beats Eggo’s.  Making breadcrumbs or croutons for a recipe?  Make extra and freeze.  Roasted chicken for dinner?  Throw the carcass in a pot with an onion (cut in quarters, don’t peel) and water, and you have a pot of homemade chicken stock before you finish washing dishes.  Strain into containers and freeze for soup and risotto.  If you really don’t have time to make stock (what, do you have tickets to the opera?), just freeze the carcass and make it later.  Dicing onions?  Go ahead and do a few extra, and freeze for when you’re really pressed for time.  Making cookies?  Triple the batch, scoop into balls, and freeze flat on a cookie sheet.  When they’re frozen, transfer to a ziplock and bake as needed.  They don’t even need to thaw first.  Bake an extra loaf of banana bread, or whole wheat sandwich bread, or batch of cinnamon rolls, or anything you’re putting in the oven on a leisurely day.  Make a huge pot of chili, a bigger batch of meatballs, more Bolognese than you could ever possible eat at one time.  Your weeknights just got a lot easier.

Third, don’t ever let anything go bad.  The only thing I have not successfully frozen is lettuce.  I like to think of the freezer as a little time machine that gives me a minute to breathe.  There’s nothing more panic-inducing than vegetables and fruit slipping towards oblivion.  Take a trip down the freezer section of the grocery store, and you will see that’s there’s very little that can’t be frozen.  Get some good containers, and those over-ripe peaches can be turned into compote with a little sugar and vanilla bean, easy to stir into an ice cream base, pour on top of whole grain pancakes, or stir into pound cake batter.  Wilted greens and spinach can be washed, dried, chopped and frozen to star later in risotto, soups, dip, pasta.  Learn from the corporate giants, but beat them at their own game.  I do have an extra freezer, but it’s cheaper than a full-time prep cook, and I know intimately what’s in all our food.

Sicilian Cauliflower Salad

1 head cauliflower

1/4 c. pine nuts

1/4 c. currants

2 anchovy fillets, chopped to a paste

1/2 c. Italian parsley leaves

1/2 loaf ciabatta

2 cloves garlic, sliced paper thin

pinch red pepper flakes

4 Tbs. white balsamic vinegar

1/2 c. olive oil (plus more for sauteing)

1/4 c. balsamic vinegar

Cover currants with boiling water and set aside.  Tear bread into bite size pieces and set aside.  Toast pine nuts at 350 until golden and set aside.  Cut cauliflower into florets.  Blanch briefly in boiling water, drain, plunge into ice water and dry thoroughly.  Heat olive oil in a large skillet.  Sear cauliflower over moderately high heat until blackened in spots but still crunchy.  Remove from skillet into a large bowl.  Heat more oil in skillet and saute bread until golden and crunchy.  Add to bowl with cauliflower.  Add a little more oil to pan and saute anchovy paste and garlic until garlic just begins to turn golden.  Scrape skillet contents into a small bowl, and add chili flakes and white balsamic.  While whisking, slowly drizzle in olive oil, until emulsified.  Drain the currants and add to cauliflower and croutons along with pine nuts and parsley.  Toss with vinaigrette.  Place balsamic in a small skillet and reduce over medium heat to 2 tablespoons.  Place salad on serving platter and drizzle with balsamic syrup.

Posted in Recipes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments »

Roasted Winter Squash with Porcini and Cream

January 21, 2011 by farmhousetableblog

The landscape of my childhood was not a green square.  ”Out of the house!” my mother would insist on summer mornings.  We were not welcome back until lunchtime, when she would pass paper plates through the back door to us, cool, conditioned air creeping through the crack for a moment before it was slammed shut again.  No one asked us where we were going or what we were doing.  We dug holes in the sandy soil, built a fire inside, and boiled muscadines and flower petals to make potions, spread our shorts and t-shirts on the sandy bank of the slough so we could return home clean, waded through brackish water to conquer cities of abandoned concrete culverts, climbed trees, fought, spied through windows, frightened each other in the pet cemetery, slept outside, faced off mean dogs, caught tiny frogs and lightening bugs, and never got lost.  I imagined my children would do the same.  From the moment they were born, though, I was constantly bombarded with a single message: the world is dangerous, they must not go out in it, keep them close.  Maternal fear and protectiveness is a powerful instinct.  And so they have grown up safe, strapped in, fed well, protected.  I have searched my neighborhood online for sexual predators.  They have never, not once, ridden in a car without a seatbelt.  They do not eat high fructose corn syrup or trans fats.  Their water bottles are BP free.  We lock the doors at night.  They know what to do if someone tries to touch them inappropriately. They have our phone numbers memorized.  The batteries in our smoke detectors have been tested and are working.

Several weeks ago, I woke up in the middle of the night, gripped by a new fear: what is happening to their childhood?  Tess is 11, almost a teenager, and she has never explored the world on her own, woven a reality for herself out of bits of string and crossed fingers, never navigated secret paths, or looked to the sky to judge how far away the rain is.  Liam, not quite two years younger, has never come home with his pockets full of dead crickets and sticks, has not put a penny on a railroad track, has not followed his sister up a tree away from my watchful eye, buried anything nor dug it up later, has not eaten anything from the woods on a dare, or skipped rocks.  What startled me awake was the tiny frogs from my own childhood.  I woke up remembering that after a rain, you could run out into the ozone-scented air, the sky still purple, and collect them by the hundreds in a jar.  I haven’t seen them in years.  Where have they gone?  Have they been decimated by pollution, contamination, disturbance to their habitat?  I don’t know, but I do know that if I had spent every summer afternoon carefully sequestered inside or safe in a green square yard, I would never know that they had ever been there in the first place, and not able to worry now about where they’ve gone.  Not only have I been coddling my children out of the uninhibited joys of childhood, but I have been robbing their adult selves out of a precious belief that the world is beautiful, magical, worth saving.  So, armed with the knowledge that the world is actually safer than it was when I was a child, I sent them out into it.  For the first few days, I fretted, and they skulked around the door, trying to come back inside.  Soon, though, I began to need to call them home for dinner, and they came tumbling back, muddy, pink-cheeked and laughing, hungry for a warm dinner, their eyes wide with secrets and the shared knowledge of what they’d been up to.  I didn’t ask.

Roasted Winter Squash with Porcini and Cream

adapted from Roast Figs Sugar Snow

This is more of a method than a recipe–the quantities are adaptable and will vary depending on what sort of squash you use.  You could even use a small pumpkin, or a red kuri squash.

acorn, butternut or confection squash, tops cut off and seeds scraped out–if using butternut, cut lengthwise

dried porcini mushrooms, covered in boiling water and soaked until tender

very thinly sliced garlic (about 1-2 cloves per squash)

fresh rosemary, minced

softened butter (about 1 T per squash)

salt and pepper

grated parmesan (about 1/4 c per squash)

Preheat oven to 350.  Rub the cut sides and cavities of squash with softened butter and season with salt and pepper.  Drain porcinis and chop coarsely.  Place sliced garlic, porcinis, and a good pinch of minced rosemary inside each cavity.  Fill cream about 2/3 way up cavity.  Place in oven and roast until squash is tender.  Top off with a little more cream if it looks as though they’re drying out.  Near the end of roasting, sprinkle each squash with parmesan and return to oven until cheese is golden and squash are completely tender.  To serve, top with sprigs of rosemary and let guests scoop out squash with cream and mushrooms.

Posted in Recipes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 15 Comments »

Kale Caesar with Torn Bread Croutons

January 14, 2011 by farmhousetableblog

Last night I developed a serious crush on Kendall and John Antonelli.  About 15 of us were gathered in their stylish little jewelbox of a cheeseshop to taste and learn about cheese. “This is the cheese that made me fall in love with cheese,” John Antonelli tells us.  He is holding to his nose a piece of comte, a firm cheese, pale and creamy yellow.  I do the same and breathe in a complex scent–caramel and fruit, round with notes of hazelnut. On my tongue, the creaminess is cut through with a saltiness that heightens these elements.  John describes the cheesemaking process, and I realize what I’m tasting is the summer pastures of the Jura massif in Eastern France, each grass in these diverse pastures contributing unique nuance to the cheese.  Neighboring shepherds pool their milk from the Montbeliarde cows through the summer and huge wheels of cheese are aged by affineurs and brought to market bearing the flavors of the mountainside, each season’s cheese a little different, marked by that summer’s weather and the grasses that grew there.

And, so, I start to think. There are lots of things that bother me about industrialized agriculture, but what I think bothers me the most is the lie perpetrated by the industry that food does not have a backstory. For the truth is, that it always does. Even the most processed, adulterated foods were shaped by human intention. When our food tastes completely homogenous, when the fast food industry convinces us that every single hamburger must taste completely identical to the other billion being served all across the world, we forget that all food has a story intimately connected to the larger human story. The history and connection are not gone, they’re just hidden, perhaps because the story is not a pretty one, not one we’d like to think of as we shovel in a burger covered in processed cheese.

When I have dinner, I want to taste the peculiarities of central Texas soil, I want to know whose hands have tended our greens, that land, animals and people involved in my dinner were well treated, respected, happy to give nourishment to my family. Stop by the cheeseshop. It’s not just cheese the Antonelli’s are selling–it’s ideas as old as the mountains of France and as fresh as the high summer breezes there. Go, taste, and think.

Kale Caesar with Torn Bread Croutons

Adapted from Tartine Bread

Croutons:

Four 1-inch slices day-old country bread, torn into 1-inch pieces

2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

Salt

Kale Caesar:

3 garlic cloves

6 olive oil-packed anchovy fillets

1 tablespoon lemon zest

1 large egg yolk

Salt

2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice, plus more to taste

1½ cups extra-virgin olive oil (you might not use it all)

1-2 bunches kale or mustard greens, center stems removed and leaves torn into bite-size pieces

⅔ cup freshly grated Parmesan cheese

Preheat the oven to 400.  Toss the bread with olive oil and a large pinch of salt.  Spread on a baking sheet and bake until golden and crisp, about 10 minutes.

Place the garlic, anchovies, egg yolk and lemon juice in a blender or small food processor.  While motor is running, slowly add olive oil in a thin stream until emulsified.  When all the oil is incorporated, season to taste with salt and more lemon juice, if desired.

In a large bowl, toss kale with dressing, parmesan, and croutons.  Serve, topped with additional parmesan.


Posted in Recipes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 6 Comments »

Spaghetti Frittata with Sauteed Greens

January 7, 2011 by farmhousetableblog

A business partnership is sometimes more like a marriage.  It’s good to take a step back every now and then and remember what brought you together in the first place.  Twice yesterday, I was asked “How did you get into this business?”  I answered with the usual timeline of restaurant owner, chef, buyer . . . but that didn’t really answer the question.  I admit to being the type of person for whom all aspects of life must have a deep meaning and significance.  This doesn’t always make making a living easy.  Not so easy for the people who have to live with me, go on vacation with me, choose a restaurant with me, either.  I’m not so great at “hanging out,” which is not to say I can’t be free or loose or fun.  It all just needs to mean something, fit into a bigger picture.  When Stephanie and I met, we recognized in each other a similar desire to look under things, see inside them, understand more.  Both of us believe life must be grasped with both hands, and both of us believe in pursuits that bring about growth, change, vision.  A business is a constantly renewing source of new knowledge.  Ours especially challenges me to remain committed, connected and open–open about my own nature, about the nature of collaboration and connection, about our community, our world, and the role that what we eat plays in our lives.  Stephanie suspects that I’m in it just for the Rain Lily greens.  Well, yes, there’s that too.

Spaghetti Frittata with Sauteed Greens

adapted from Armandino Batali

1/2 pound spaghetti, cooked al dente, drained and cool

5 eggs

1/4 c. Italian parsley, chopped

salt & pepper to taste

pinch red chile flakes

1/2 c. parmesan cheese + more for serving

olive oil

1 bunch kale, collards, or broccoli greens

1 c. simple marinara sauce + more for serving

Preheat broiler.  Toss pasta with 1 cup marinara sauce in large bowl to blend.  Combine eggs, parsley and salt & pepper to taste in another bowl & whisk to combine.

Heat about 1 tablespoon olive oil in a large oven-proof skillet over medium-high heat.  Add pasta and toss til warmed through.  Pour egg mixture over; do not stir.  Reduce heat to medium low.  Cook until eggs start to firm up, and bottom begins to brown, lifting sides to let uncooked egg run underneath.  Remove skillet from heat.  Sprinkle frittata with cheese.  Broil until cheese melts and browns, about 3 minutes.  Meanwhile, wash greens and cut into 2″ pieces.  Heat oil in another skillet.  When it’s hot, add greens, with water still clinging to the leaves.  Saute quickly until wilted and season to taste with salt and pepper.  To serve, cut frittata into wedges and serve with sauteed greens, warmed marinara and extra cheese for sprinkling.

Posted in Recipes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , | 9 Comments »

Thai Red Curry with Pumpkin & Green Tomato

December 17, 2010 by farmhousetableblog

After weeks of slow death by heavy food, my palate craves something spicy and vibrant, and only Thai food will do.  Luckily, I’ve been schooled by the best teacher–Jam Sanitchat, owner of Thai Fresh.  Her cooking classes reveal how easy it is to master Thai dishes like this delicious curry, and how soul-satisfying they can be when made with local produce and meats.  I’ve made a vegetarian version here, but it’s just as delicious with pork or chicken.  I love the tangy acidity of the green tomatoes with the sweet and creamy pumpkin and coconut milk.  An everyday dish, to be sure, but worthy of its own celebration.

Thai Red Curry with Pumpkin & Green Tomato

1 butternut squash or small pumpkin, peeled and cut into cubes

2-3 green tomatoes (optional), cut into large cubes

1 Tbs. neutral flavored oil, such as peanut or grapeseed

3 Tbs. red curry paste

2 cans coconut milk

3 Tbs. fish sauce, or to taste

pinch sugar

juice of 1 lime

handful or fresh cilantro

1 package flat rice noodles, soaked in warm water until al dente, and drained

Heat oil in large saucepan.  Add curry paste and fry briefly, until fragrant.  Open the cans of coconut milk without shaking them.  There will be a layer of thicker coconut cream on top and more watery coconut juice on the bottom.  Scoop coconut cream off top of cans, and add to pot.  Continue to fry over medium-high heat for 1-2 minutes, whisking to combine.  Add remaining watery coconut milk to pot and heat to a simmer.  Add squash or pumpkin and green tomatoes.  Simmer until squash is tender.  Balance flavors with fish sauce, sugar and lime to taste.  Coarsely chop half the cilantro and add to curry.  Place rice noodles in serving bowls and ladle hot curry over the top.  Serve with handfuls of fresh cilantro on top, and extra lime wedges for squeezing at the table.

Posted in Recipes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , | 3 Comments »

Ambrosia

December 10, 2010 by farmhousetableblog

My father’s mother, Granny Mehaffy, was not known for her skills in the kitchen.  She was a grandmother who smelled more of scotch and tasteful perfume than vanilla.  She was tiny, bright, and brisk, and before we accepted an invitation to her house for dinner, we always settled on where we’d be going to eat afterwards.  One time, my father asked if he could bring a guest.  She loved company, so she said sure, and just split the Lean Cuisine four ways instead of three.  Truly.

She loved gathering people together; she just didn’t believe in eating much more than the bare minimum needed for survival.  There was one specialty for which she was renowned, however.  Perhaps because it could be made ahead, and was fashioned into a festive ring, tomato aspic graced the table at any more formal gathering.  Basically tomato jello, she often dressed it up a bit with cucumber chunks or avocado slices.  It always sat there, neglected and forlorn.  Maybe that explained why she thought people were never hungry.

My father always said that being grown up meant having more than one piece of bacon.  Clearly, she was not my inspiration for food.  But, nevertheless she lives on in the life I live every day.

Of course she was not a woman who “worked,” unless you count the garden club, symphony club, daily tennis, and junior league work, which I might.  But she had an office at home, and was very busy there, too busy to be mired down in the kitchen cooking.  Every day, she furiously typed letter to senators and congressmen, local officials and influential citizens.  Bangle bracelets jangling, she typed letters of protest against bad environmental policy, discrimination, poverty, racism, offenses against the English language.  She spearheaded Beaumont’s first recycling efforts and campaigned for the legalization of marijuana.  In the summer in West Texas, we walked along the Frio river, erecting No Littering signs (catchy rhymes constructed in perfect iambic pentameter that were perhaps lost on the locals tossing Big Red bottles and Frito bags into the river).  She voted, she wrote letters, she campaigned, and most of all she cared.  Her active citizenship was important.  Watching from the doorway of her office, I could see that passivity was not an option.  We can choose to make the world better, or we can choose to let the bad guys win, the ones making stupid choices, the greedy ones, the polluters, the ones who would hold back progress and education and the pursuit of happiness, by doing nothing.  That was our choice.  Not just on election day, but every day.  Now I find that this same purpose must inform everything I do as well.  So many things about her I treasure–a cheerful stubbornness, an optimistic sense that one day the world will all make sense, a full and total commitment to the proper use of the apostrophe for its and it’s,  and most of all a sense of joy in active civic engagement.

After she died, I waited at her house with my father for the Salvation Army to come pick up the last bits and pieces, and there on top of one of the boxes was her aspic ring.  I took it home, and it’s moved with me to every house ever since.  I’ve never used it, but that doesn’t mean it’s not important.  It’s a reminder that there’s a larger purpose to my life, that the small things do make a difference, that none of us should ever quit caring, or for one minute imagine that we’re off the hook for the way the world unfolds.

Ambrosia Salad

2 grapefruit

2 tangerines

2 oranges

2 cameo, fuji, or gala apples

1 pomegranate, seeds removed

1/4 cup pecan halves, toasted and coarsely chopped

1/4 cup sweetened coconut, toasted

1/2 cup vanilla yogurt

Follow these instructions for cutting grapefruit, tangerine, and citrus supremes.  Cut apple into chunks.  Combine fruit, citrus juice, and yogurt in a large bowl.  Stir in about half the coconut and pecans.  Place in serving dishes, and top with remaining coconut, pecans, and pomegranate seeds.

Posted in Recipes, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments »

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