Edible Tulip

Spanish Chicken and Chorizo Stew with Israeli Couscous

 

  
 
It's Remembrance Day here in Canada and I felt honoured and humbled as I walked at dawn this morning through the ravine under a huge expanse of blue sky lit by a crescent moon. I walked free of fear from anything more ominous than the dog bylaw officer. I know how lucky I am to be born in this country. I will remember them. Thank you, veterans. Thank you. 

I haven't been posting regularly. Life shifted, hiccupped, and then scared the shit out of me. I'd apologize for the melodramatic tone of the last post if it was all smoke and mirrors and smelling salts. But it was a legitimately, alcohol-soaked tough time. Taglines would include an injured fox, a possibly rabid bat, a punctured foot, vertigo, urinary tract infections (canine), respiratory infection (feline), quitting a job for a new job only to quit the new job on the first day. Then there was starting another new job while having to go to the doctor 5 times in 28 days for a series of 12 vaccinations. I don't like needles. I don't like doctor's offices. I don't like sitting in waiting rooms anticipating a needle in the middle of H1N1/flu season. But all that's done with now. November is turning my way and I've got a renewed spring in my step, in addition to a new wool fedora with a side floral festival of feathers. Life's greatest pleasures are always found in the details. Don't not step on cracks, fall deeply into them, look around, and stay awhile. 

This meal melds nicely with the shoulder season of autumn - the days are still earthy, not yet frigid, and the body hasn't begun to crave the subtleties of comfort food. This stew is comforting but it ain't subtle - thyme, saffron and hot chile flakes make for a bold combo. Paired with the mellow taste and texture of Israeli couscous you've got a mouthful of contrasts: pillowy dough balls and chewy spicy chorizo followed by a shot of salty bitterness that is only welcome from a green olive. Pomegranate seeds added to the salad add a refreshing fruity punch to the earthy taste of greens. 

The salad was composed of butter lettuce leaves, chopped raddichio, pomegranate pims and chopped toasted almonds dressed in olive oil, a splash of white wine vinegar and a bit of coarse sea salt. 

Israeli couscous is really nothing like the north African kind that is smaller, nuttier and more redolent of bulghur. This tastes more like miniature gnocchi; it's soft and almost absent of flavour making it a perfect bed a complex dish like this stew. I don't like tomato based dishes served with rice - the aromatic nature of rice doesn't work as well with Mediterranean flavours, while Israeli couscous, made of wheat-based baked pasta, like an orzo, acts to passively boost the essence of the dish. Preparation requires boiling it for 10 minutes in salted water and then draining it as you would dried pasta. I tossed the cooked Israeli couscous with chopped parsley and scallions and seasoned with olive oil, lemon juice, salt and pepper.

Spanish/Moroccan Chorizo and Chicken Stew was a joint collaboration of a few different recipes. I took out the chickpea ingerdient in one and added green olives. I used herbes de provence instead of thyme because I wanted the complexity of spice (cumin) and floral (thyme, basil, oregano) plus a pinch of saffron threads. I browned pieces of chicken (doesn't matter what you use, thigh, boneless breast, bone in cuts) for a few minutes on each side in a bit of cooking oil. I set the chicken aside, and added onions and garlic and then pre-boiled links of Chorizo sausage that I had cut into 1-inch slices. When they were browned, I added the chicken, a bit of white wine, a handful of green olives, the spices, and a 14 1/2-oz. can of pureed tomatoes. I covered the saucepan and let everything simmer over medium-low heat for 30 minutes. There are a dozen variations on this type of stew and I'd love to try it with lamb sausage next and a caraway/cumin enhanced sauce.

Oh yeah, the cute floppy-eared guy at the bottom right, shyly nuzzling the dish towel? He's my sous-chef, and really good with scraps.

 

A Post on Tomatoes (now that the season is over!)

 

My apologies for my long spate of absenteeism.

Sometimes life gives you a big kick in the ass. You wake up in the morning covered in bruises the size of paw prints and apart from wrestling with your dreams in the bedsheets you wonder what else could make you bleed from the inside-out.

It's been one of those month-to-month-to-month stretches where the profundity of life feels overwhelming not in passing but in wait. Every time I turn a street corner, lost momentarily in the glorious sphere of daydream, only to bump back into life. Into life's sadnesses and hardships. I finally fall asleep at 4 a.m. after gaining the courage to sock a punch hard enough to knock out life's regrets for 2 hours but then when I look in the mirror while brushing my teeth I think damn these months have aged you and then life's regrets put me back in a choke-hold. It's a vest of visceral losses that I've found zipped up over my chest and padlocked.

Who has the key?

The more I scrounge in the dirt, fumble ashes with shaky hands, plume smoke out my nostrils into the back alley, freedom scuttles faster and further away. I can't seem to locate it. Whatever it is that will drive contentedness solidly to the soles of my feet. I have taken the past 7 months and chosen to re-live the memories of the past 7 years. The fleetingness of it all is what shocks me - I used to look at time as eternal, there was room to accomplish everything, time meant less about age and more about accomplishment, the months existed in order to change the parametres and re-create the look, but what I failed to see that with so much directionless pursuit all that time was spent treading water. You, you made it to Bali in your patched raft, procreated on the way, passed a sailor who spotted your entrepeneurial spirit through the scorched sea light and sold you his secret to success, but I, I am still standing in the field 7 years later looking for a bobby pin in the stack of hay corn husks dried and rustling at my back and the sun has started to set behind the Georgian peaks and it's getting too late.

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Alright. Now that I've got that weird mood out of my system, let's talk about tomatoes. These were picked in August at the height of the season and just when the sun's dramatic shift begins apparent because you're standing in the garden at cocktail hour picking beans and tomatoes and herbs and the light is like flints of gold brushed into all the tiny spaces between the needles of the glowering fir trees. I think the end of summer is rhapsodic. It's an immune system in overdrive - so many colours and sounds and blends the earth is scatting a jazz melody and the cicadas are on acid.

I haven't been that into food lately. Partially, it's my compromised budget; and partially, it's an anxiety reflex that diminishes appetite and quite frankly prefers the floozy company of alcohol. Tomatoes go nicely with alcohol, now that I think about, the sweet/tart ambrosia that seeps into your mouth like the soft liquid of a filled chocolate easter egg as you break through the shell, topped with a salty hard cheese, works in contrast to a bubbly Spumante.

My parents garden was a regular cornucopia of tomato varieties - teardrop in yellow, vine ripened, roma, cherry, and beefsteak. Mostly I ate them raw, with raw onion, and tarragon vinegar and sea salt, in a big bowl, while standing in the hot sun on the cedar deck watching the tiny red squirrels leap from tree top to tree top.

Cover slices of tomato with lots of old crumbly cheddar cheese on two slices of thick sourdough bread slather with seedy mustard and pan-fry in butter until the bread begins to brown.

Make a fresh tomato pasta sauce using cherry tomatoes, a bit of red wine vinegar, a few capers, salt and pepper and olive oil and a sprinkling of red chile flakes. Cook a dried pasta like penne and toss while hot with the fresh sauce. Adding cubes of mozzerella cheese ensures a chewy gooey delight.

Corn and tomato are a great marriage of flavours. Scrape off the corn niblets from cooked corn (boiled or grilled) and combine with red onion, tomatoes, fresh herbs, olive oil, and lemon juice.

7 Recipes To Do With Zucchini

Zucchini is one of the most prolific vegetables in the summer season in Ontario, coming into full force at the end of August. Even urban community gardens in the midst of city parks where it doesn't look like there's a heck of a lot going on, where the tomatoes are even late to turn colour and ripen this year, you can spot the zucchinis and summer squashes and vegetable marrows taking over the ground cover and blossiming into full form as a sort of 'ah ha' to their languishing plot mates. It's true they are a beautiful plant - huge, green foliage - and vibrant, smooth skinned cylanders of yellow and pale green and dark striated green  with the tenderest most exquisite edible flower. Definitely a sight to behold in a typically verdant vegetable patch. I think a lot of people like to grow zucchini, but making good use of them can be hard work. They aren't a favourite vegetable of anyone I know. And I tend to agree. They have a bland, foamy interior that, on its own, has very little flavour to distinguish itself. It's like the eggplant - the cooking method and accompanying ingredients are what gives it true personality. Here are a few ideas to help you use up any zucchini you've found yourself saddled with.

Seven Surefire Ways to Put Your Zucchini to Good Use

1. Standard GRILLED VEGETABLE side dish. A medley of eggplant, zucchini, and peppers. Cut into cubes and skewer the vegetables for grilling. Or cut into thick slices and strips, brush with olive oil and grill. Serve in a bowl layered with arugula and topped with an herbed yogurt dressing
2. Hollow out the flesh and chop it up with a mixture of feta, ricotta, basil and pine nuts. Put the mixture back into the ZUCCHINI BOATS and bake. Top with bread crumbs and finish under the broil if desired.
   
3. Make a RISOTTO with both the zucchini and the zucchini flowers. Use your favourite recipe that makes enough for about 6-8 people and replace whatever vegetable called for (corn, mushrooms, tomatoes) with 1 cup chopped zucchini and 2 cups chopped zucchini flowers. The zucchini and flowers will be added to the sauted shallots/onions and cooked until tender. The rice will be added to the cooked vegetables, and then the Marasala and wine, followed by the broth.
4. Add 1 cup of grated zucchini to any sweet bread, loaf or CUPCAKES you are making. You won't notice the taste and it will add an incredible amount of moistness. 
5. Make a FRITATTA (flat, open faced Italian style omelet) with 6 eggs, 1 1/2 pounds of grated zucchini, lots of garlic and whichever fresh herb you have on hand - marjoram, basil, thyme, oregano - all work well, plus 1/3 cup of grated fresh parmesan or dry jack or old cheddar cheese. Side with chopped fresh tomatoes and kalamata olives. Or maybe some skillet fried potatoes. And call it brunch.
   
6. Make a velvety creamy SOUP without using any dairy. A cooking onion, garlic, olive oil, and 2 lbs of zucchini make the stock with 3 cups of water. Coarsely chop zucchini. Cook onion and garlic in the oil until softened, add chopped zucchini and some salt, continue cooking. Add the water and simmer until tender. Puree soup with 1/3 cup chopped basil.
   
7. Replace meat with zucchini for a refreshing take on CARPACCIO. Cut zucchini crosswise very thinly. Paper thin. Toss with salt and let drain for 20 minutes. Rinse well and drain again. Toss mache or purslane or lambs lettuce or baby spinach with some crumbled fresh parmesan and drizzles of olive oil. Add the zucchini slices and toss some more. A great salad to serve with grilled fish. 

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Cold Noodle Salad with Shredded Chicken and Sesame Marinade

There have to be a dozen variations on the cold noodle salad, including the kind of noodles used, i.e., egg, rice, flour, wheat, and the sort of marinade that ultimately coats the noodles and provides the true incentive behind the dish. Peanut butter and sesame oil are both popular flavours for noodles; they are thick and powerful enough to carry the weight of the noodle, and to compensate for a sort of blandness that can accompany things that have cooled off, so to speak. We've been hit here in Toronto with a real heat wave, the hands over the eyes lying flat on the sofa kind of weather, and whereas I tend to eat cold salads at lunch all seasons of the year, I still typically cook my dinner. Not sure if it's just an excuse to drink wine while the food simmers, or whether it feels more traditional to spend time preparing a sit down meal for myself, which also tends to include aprons and stovetops. At any rate, the heat lately has forced me to think beyond my usual suppertime spot in front of the stove. So, I took the ingredients I might include in a standard dinner meal - protein, grain/noodle, ample veggies, sauce/chutney of some sort - and thought how they would work best in a dish that was served cold, or room temperatured. Chicken and noodles seemed obvious so I gave it a whirl, made a huge helping, and went to bat for the second time the very next night (which says something, because, I know you don't know me, but I detest leftovers!).

I'll write my recipe below, but I thought before doing so, I'd share variations on substitutions, because really? There are so very many. And don't for a second think I'm finding my cold noodle salad a eureka recipe or anything. This dish has been around forever; I've just not simply thought to try it.

Noodles: egg, rice, wheat, soba/buckwheat, udon (are these the same as soba?), or soy. Flat and linguine like, thin and tubular like, coiled and spring-y like, or slightly bland and gummy (but perfect for this dish!).

Sauce: soya, sesame, peanut butter, or tahini heavy. (I'm sticking with the Asian influenced marinades, not the cold pasta dishes that might use pesto, etc., which is a whole different kind of conversation). Minced fresh ginger and garlic plus a lot of lime juice are highly recommended. I don't like to add sugar to my sauce but I do love a hint of hot chili.

Vegetables/meat: fried pork, shredded chicken, cooked baby shrimp, or cubed tofu. Grated or julienned carrots, zucchini, cucumber, red pepper and daikon. Lots of scallions, including the greens. Mushrooms, if you like'em. Asparagus tips if they're in season. Snow peas and mung bean sprouts match the flavours well too.

My Cold Noodle Salad Recipe

The Marinade:

1/4 cup sesame oil

4 tablespoons soy sauce

2 tablespoons rice vinegar or lime juice

2 teaspoons chili oil

1 tablespoon grated ginger

1 garlic clove, minced

1/4 cup chopped fresh mint

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley (cilantro can be substituted)

Alterations: add chile/garlic thai sauce to the marinade, or add brown sugar and/or balsamic vinegar or cane sugar to sweeten the sauce, or splash a few drops of hot sauce into the mix.

The Noodle:

I used fettucine-sized Thai rice noodles which don't require actual cooking. They sit in a bowl of boiled water for 8 minutes and become soft; they are ready to eat once drained. These rice noodles weren't at all sticky/gummy and they had substance without an overreaching flavour so as not to drown out the real charm of the dish which is the marinade.*

*the first night I tried this dish, I used whole wheat spaghetti. I didn't like the earthy flavour of the noodle for this dish, it is better paired with stewed beans, pestos and roasted peppers/mushrooms, fresh tomato/caper sauces.

AllModern.com Contest: Win a Free Blomus Salt Mill

So, how pretty is this? Elegant. Sleek. A stainless-steel cylinder that would perfectly offset an antique pine plank table and a vase of violets. Rock salt, like the ubiquitous peppercorn, can add a subtle complexity to food. Sodium is an important element of our physical vitality. In moderation, of course, which doesn't necessitate a boring pop-a-vitamin ritualistic part of your day -- why not make the elementary act of seasoning your food something beautiful to behold? Clutch your hands around this sturdy cannister and crank it. As Cassiodorus, the fifth century Goth administrator, said "It may well be that some seek not gold, but there lives not a man who does not need salt." Amen to that.

For filling this salt mill, you can go extravagant and invest in specialty salts like Himalayan pink salt, Brazilian salt, red salt, Pacific salt, Hawaiian Alaea salt, found at Whole Foods or you can pick up coarse (chunky not sand/pebbly) sea/rock salt from the supermarket. I'd choose the first types of salt if you tend to season your food once it is cooked. If you prefer to salt your food while cooking, or prior to cooking, then you should use the straightforward coarse sea salt.

Edible Tulip is thrilled to team up with the incredible All Modern to collaborate on this contest for my readers. I chose the Blomus Salt Mill as the prize because I felt that it was a good fit for the food philosophy espoused on this blog: simple but sophisticated, subtle but flavourful, clean but never boring, and ALWAYS ready to add a bit of spice, salt, and sass to life! This product is just one of hundreds of beautiful things. Go check out their site and get inspired. All Modern has a fantastic selection of modern furniture and home accessories from many leading designers. Part of CSN Stores, All Modern is just one of over 260 retail sites that offer a diverse array of products from office furniture by Herman Miller to wall sconces by Murray Feiss.

CONTEST DETAILS:

This contest is open to anyone living in the United States and Canada.

All you need to do to enter is leave a comment with your name telling me what food you most like to salt OR write what dish you would prepare first to enjoy the first cracks of coarse milled salt. Facebook the contest. Link to it. Pass the word onto your foodie friends. And make sure to leave an imprint here so I can enter you.

Contest closes Wednesday, August 19th, 2009 at midnight. I will announce the winner, chosen randomly, on Friday, August 21st. Good luck, salty dawgs!

THE WINNER

And we have a winner! Anita of Shop Eco is the lucky pick chosen using random.org. Congratulations Anita!

Bulgur and Green Lentil Salad with Cracked Olives and Fresh Corn

This is a shot of the bulgur before it's been cooked. I bought a medium grind because I knew I was going to blend it with some hearty ingredients - green lentils, corn cut from the cob, chopped flat leaf parsley - and I wanted to taste the gentle nuttiness, not overpower it.

Bulgur has, sadly in my estimation, never had quite the popularity surge as other grains like quinoa. And people even use couscous in place of bulgur in traditional recipes like tabbouleh where bulgur is actually a historic element of the dish. I'm not sure why. Is it the name? Bulgur = vulgar. (Not to mention the various incarnations of spellings: bulger, bulgar, bulgher, bulgor). It has an unfortunate ring to it and I think it has prejudiced people against trying it. I actually love saying the word, 'bbbuullllggghherr". It requires lots of lip and tongue action and it has a defiant punch to it which makes me think of using it next time I'm in a scrappy argument with someone and they're going off about something that's making my skin itch and I'll just pull out the word and say it like a sucker punch BULGUR. It sounds like the answer to possibly anything.

I also think people, when they are shopping, tend to shy away from new grains, thinking well, maybe it takes forever to cook, or simply being unfamiliar with it, they wonder what on earth to do with it, so they pass by the cheap, plentiful medium grind of bulgur cracked wheat and pick up more basmati rice! No! To be truthful, bulgur is one of the most delicious grains out there - simple, nutty, tender, moist - and it is bar none the EASIEST to prepare: you pour some in a bowl and you pour enough water on top (hot, room temperature, whatever) to cover the grains and then you let it sit for about 15 minutes until the dried, previously steamed, cracked wheat has reconstituted itself and plumped up, absorbing all the water. Bulgur, once you have it in your house, is suprising good company - the sort of subtle guest you bring home for a party and he quietly goes around delighting everyone in the room.

Bulgur makes excellent pilafs with nuts and dried fruit in the fall. But it also is a wonderful addition to hearty salads, tabbouleh being it's most famous starring role.

Bulgur and Green Lentil Salad with Fresh Corn, makes about 6 cups

1/2 cup French green lentils, picked over
1 bay leaf
salt and freshly milled pepper
1 cup medium grind bulgur
4 medium cobs of corn
5 scallions, including some of the greens, thinly sliced
1 tablespoon finely chopped red ononion
1/4 English cucumber, diced finely
2 garlic cloves
grated zest of 2 lemons
6 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil
1 teaspoon paprika
1 cup finely chopped parsley
2 tablespoons finely chopped mint
1/4 cup cracked sicilian green olives

Cover the lentils with water in a saucepan, add the bay leaf, and 1/2 teaspoon of salt, and bring to a boil. Lower the heat, and simmer until tender, but firm, about 25 minutes. Meanwhile, put the bulgur in a bowl, cover with water and let stand until the liquid has been absorbed, about 20 - 30 minutes, and steam the corn cobs in an inch of water for 5 minutes. Drain, set aside to cool; once cool, cut the kernals off the cob, and place in a bowl.

Whisk together the scallions, garlic, lemon zest and juice, oil, paprika and 12 teaspoon of salt. When the lentils are done, add them to the corn kernals, and toss with the dressing. Press out any excess water from the bulgur and add the grains to the bowl with the parsley and the mint. Toss gently and thoroughly. Serve warm, or serve cold over tender lettuce.

August variations: add chopped tomatoes or cucumbers or green peppers.

Nut/Herb variations: replace the mint with chopped tarragon. Use half walnut oil in the dressing and add 1/2 cup chpped toasted walnuts to the salad.

Spotlight on Summer Herbs: Tarragon

A glimpse into the tarragon explosion in my mother's garden! The plants had done so well in the wet summer conditions that I couldn't resist cutting several stalks and taking them home with me. It's been a few days now and they are still green, not yet wilting, and no evidence of shriveling or browning at the tips of the leaves. I have set them in a tall ceramic vase in a few inches of fresh water. They look so tantalizing on my window sill that I was sort of smitten with them as I let the kitchen sink water run to cool down for the dog's water bowl and as I looked at them, sprouting out in their feathery come hither way, I thought I should write a tribute about tarragon and found myself immediately leaning over and nibbling 1, 2, 3 green petals as a way to instantly rekindle myself with their unique flavour. It's not the easiest taste to describe. To say it's licoricy is to sort of kill it before it takes its first breath - it's overkill. It's slightly anise tasting but in a zingy sparkling kind of way, light as a balloon as it soars low over a grassy pasture. It tastes green, slightly lemony, a bit fennel-like, not sweet but fresh, like the smell of the wind in the spring. Although most of us love rosemary and oregano and basil, we wouldn't typically be tempted to nose our way face first into a plant and chomp down. That's the beauty of tarragon.

Tarragon is a notoriously French herb and it seasons French food perfectly: vinegars, potatoes, green string beans, meats. Apart from simply tossing a bunch of whole leaves of various herbs - basil, parsley, chives, chervil, tarragon - with lettuce for a vibrant zesty dinner salad, here are some other uses.

~ roll a boned loin of pork in chopped tarragon. Add some brown sugar and a few caraway seeds. Wrap in plastic seal and refrigerate overnight. Roast.

~ tarragon makes a delicious vinegar flavouring. Simply add a few sprigs of new tarragon growth into a bottle of good quality white wine vinegar and set aside for 1 month before using.

CUCUMBER SALAD WITH TARRAGON VINAIGRETTE, serves 4

2 summer grown English cucumbers (a few red radishes trimmed and sliced thinly are a lovely addition; or, you can substitute the cucumber for fennel and make sure to cut it paper thin)
1 tablespoon creme fraiche
2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
2 to 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 1/2 teaspoons minced lemon zest
2 teaspoons chopped tarragon
1 tablespoon chopped parsley
Salt and ground pepper
2 cups watercress or mixed small salad greens

Trim the cucumbers, then slice thinly. Whisk the creme fraiche, oil, and 2 teaspoons lemon juice together; add the lemon zest, herbs, and salt and pepper. Toss with the cucumber. Taste and add more lemon juice if necessary. Serve mounded on a plate, over or surrounded by the greens.

Yellow Wax Beans, Plus Recipes

As discovered by my parents when their grandchildren were visiting for 2 weeks in July, the best way to get the kids, ages 3 - 6, to eat vegetables was to ask them to help harvest the garden for dinner. We'd bring them along to pick tiny tomatoes, sugar snap peas, yellow and green wax beans, sweet peas, and yellow zucchini and sure enough each of them would go through the motion of hunt, pick, one for the colander and one popped into the mouth!

Despite not much sunshine this summer, the beans seem to be one of the vegetables that is not only producing, but actually thriving in these damp conditions. I can't lift a drooping bean stalk without being confronted by a coiled collection of lemony-coloured long beans, masses of them, 50 to each plant. The beans didn't seem to match the seeds pictured on the package this year, or else the beans that grew, were reseeded from last year. The idea was to replant the super successful Haricots Verts - the long, skinny French green bush bean - from last year, but so far there isn't any evidence that they will appear this season; they are much smaller in circumference than a pencil, and they look marvelous stretched out like verdant matchsticks across a dinner plate. In lieu of my sophisticated leggy French bean, I will continue to eat, in what appears to be an endless harvest, the yellow wax beans that triumphantly strut their stuff, even in the shadows. Here are a few ideas of what to do with beans. If you have a favourite method or recipe using beans, I'd love to hear it!

I prefer my beans, like almost everything else in life, pared down, stripped to their essence, bathed in natural beauty, and matched with a partner(s) who compliments rather than distracts.

- take 1 1/2 lbs of beans, tip and tail them; drop into a large pot of boiling salted water and cook uncovered and begin tasting them for doneness around 3-4 minutes. Drain, and shake dry. Toss in a bowl with butter or olive oil, add sea salt and coarse pepper, and chopped fresh herbs: parsley, basil, tarragon, summer savory or dill.

- dress cooked, still warm/hot beans with a sauce/dressing: tarragon mustard vinaigrette, garlic mayonnaise/aioli, herb butter, pesto, or a yogurt based sauce with cayenne. Try tossing hot beans with an olive sauce like a spicy tapenade; they are a great match for a meaty fish like swordfish.

- try tossing toasted nuts with freshly cooked beans in a brown butter sauce; almonds and walnuts are my favourite compliment.

- toss freshly cooked beans with oven roasted cherry tomatoes, chopped garlic, and drizzle with olive oil; combine with chopped fresh herbs: parsley, basil or tarragon.

- for salads, or as part of a crudite platter, remove the beans from the boiling water and immediately immerse them in cool, iced water.

Herbed Baby Potato Recipe

Who needs a scarecrow when you can perch a skull on a fencepost?

He watches over me as I dig around the rocky soil waiting for the solid 'tink' sound of fingernail meeting new potato in the underworld. Later in the season is my preferred time for digging because by that point the potatoes have grown from the roots that have flown coop from the eyes of the rotten spud first placed in the soil and they have dispersed themselves wide and far, it's like a potato scavenger hunt. You can reach down three feet from the plant and find pearled globes buried like treasure. I do love a game of hide and seek and ends in gold. This year, however, because the rain has come so often, and the weather hasn't given the land the few scorchers they need to get going, everything is slow, behind, possibly stunted beyond help. The potato plants are green and healthy and there are potatoes but they are still all clumped together like a secret carbohydrate society directly beneath the plant. So I dig them up "bandicoot" style - referring to the scrambling about under the potato plant done by an Australian animal of the same namesake. The word has a sense of the magical about it and it makes me feel like tying a bandana on and smudging some eyeliner on before going out for the dig. 

I am always tickled pink when I see the glimmer of white through the sifting sand as my hand moves around. I start to wonder if this whole looking for a job in downtown Toronto is all wrong and that I should actually move to PEI perhaps and dig for a living. But I have a feeling, like most things in life, after a few repetitive hours of bending down and burrowing into flaked mud that it might get a tad monotonous, irritating even. Where the tides turn and suddenly finding the potatoes starts to make you crazy. So thank you to all who pick the potatoes that I eat when I'm not picking them myself.

Herbed Baby Potatoes, serves 4

Don't overcook new potatoes; they can get mealy and break apart into mush if they are over boiled. If they are roughly quail-egg sized, you can boil them whole, or cut them into quarters, if the potatoes are fist-sized. Place in cold water, bring to a boil and then cook uncovered for 10 minutes.

When they are freshly dug, and smallish, they are so tender they barely need any finishing other than to be tossed in a bit of olive oil with some coarse sea salt. This recipe goes a bit further with flavour but still keeps it simple enough so the potato remains the STAR. I like to serve 4-5 small potatoes per person.

- 20 baby new potatoes
- 1 tablespoon olive oil
- 1 tablespoon butter
- 2 cloves garlic, crushed
- 1 teaspoon each fresh rosemary, tarragon, and thyme, chopped
- coarse sea salt and ground black pepper to taste

You can either boil the potatoes and toss with all the ingredients (minus the raw garlic), or if you want a crispier exterier than you can boil the potatoes and drain them. Cut each potato in half. Heat oil and butter in a frying pan and add potatoes, cut side down. Cook over medium heat for 5 minutes or until the cut surface is golden and crisp. Add the garlic and cook for another few minutes. Repeat until all the potatoes and all the garlic are cooked. Add to a bowl and toss with the fresh herbs, salt and pepper.

Ontario Strawberries with Mint and Feta

  

As I write this, I've got home picked veggies in the sink plucked from my parents garden boxes: bright yellow zucchini, gorgeous long beans, dug up new potatoes, and tiny tendrils of baby lettuce. I also have hot Italian pork sausage ready to hit the barbecue. The "hot Italian" reference my father had a hey-day with but luckily it was short-lived as the folks have gone out to dinner and I'm left with the two dogs on the top deck alternately lazily snoozing (long afternoon walk to a hidden lake oasis) and wide-eyed watching the red squirrels leap from one Jack pine tree limb to the next. The evening, light grey cloud cover, random breeze, background of crow caws, is mine and eat and read in solitude is what I'll do to bring it to nightfall.

In amidst such bounty, not to mention an entire rural town partaking in a 100 mile week long eating challenge, I can see the beauty of the local agriculture not to mention the taste. Back in Toronto, I admit I get my bargain crunching hat on and when faced at the local supermarket with strawberries for $1.99 a pint versus those locally grown for $4.99 a pint I tend to go the frugal route. I save $3 bucks but I lose out on taste and I know it. I was in these parts last weekend eating wild blueberries, raspberries and strawberries all locally grown topping out a neighbouring farm's tiny deliciously sweet cantaloups. If there's a better way to start a morning, then please do let me know. I bring it in with a cup of Creemore coffee and a good wollap of a local dairy's coffee cream and it's well, you know, heavenly. Not possible for so many, but momentarily for me, a departure to the realm of sweet succulent indulgence.

Ontario strawberries taste different. They aren't large and ostentatious and full of empty promise. They aren't a vapid shell in a colourful exterior. They don't disappoint. It's a tangled experience of simple satisfation. And it's BECAUSE they aren't overly fruity that I like to experiment tossing them with other flavours, notably herbaceous and salty ones. They provide a good contrast. At lunch I would recommend quartering a handful of them and tossing them with an english cucumber that has been locally grown (it means it's fresh and you don't have to peel it and it tases neutral rather than bitter), chop up some fresh mint, add some salty brine based feta, and possibly a few sunflower seeds. Life has been worse.

POM Wonderful's Pomegranate, Pecan and Persimmon Salad

 

There is no doubt about it that pomegranates are interesting. They grow into that ruddy bulbous orb out of a flower. Their leathery surface defies the beauty of the sweet jewelled arils you find nestled in miniature honeycomb-like pockets. They are ridiculously messy to eat but if you're the kind of person who doesn't like to get her fingers sticky then you probably eat apples and bananas and crackers over mangos and pomegranates and pistachios anyway, in which case, what are you doing here on this mud puddle jumping avocado half licking utensil free site of nonsense? At any rate, even though pomegranates are one of mankind's earliest cultivated fruits, up until recently I rarely saw them displayed in the supermarket, or green grocer, except around the Christmas season. And then came POM Wonderful**, the cheery logo with the heart in place of the O, and the exceptionally successful marketing campaign that put POM juice in coveted display sections everywhere you shopped. I see POM juice more often in the drink section of stores now than I do cranberry juice and iced tea. I really applaud the work of a company to promote a fruit that has so many positive health benefits instead of an exercise drink loaded with sugar or a soda with no nutritional value. So, when Molly, from POM Wonderful blogger, sent me an email asking if I'd like to try a few free samples of POM juice, naturally I said yes. Because of customs regulations she couldn't ship me samples but she did send me a few coupons for juice and I took one up to my neighbourhood Kitchen Table grocery store because I knew they carried them (see how effective that logo is?? I've never bought POM Wonderful juice before but the sweet simplicity of its name resonates and I knew I'd seen it at my local store) and picked out one plain 100% pure pomegranate juice to take home and drink on ice. (Other flavours include pomegranate blends: blueberry, tangerine, cherry, all 100% pure fruit juice).

It tasted less bitter than I thought it might, and also less syrupy. I found it tangy-sweet, but less mouth puckering than pure cranberry juice i.e., it doesn't strip the back of your throat. Instead, it's a fruity refreshing zing of goodness. On ice, it's perfect; with soda water, it'd be marvelous; add a shot of vodka, even better.

A few quick health facts:

• POM Wonderful juice has more antioxidants than red wine and green tea
• POM Wonderful is the only brand to guarantee 100% authentic pomegranate juice (POM Wonderful is located in California which is the origin for their pomegranates/juice; most other pomeogranates and pomegranate products come from Iran, Turkey and the Former USSR, so take your chances with those labels and verity!)
• Pomegranate juice is known to have medically verified positive effects on heart health (hence the heart in the name POM), prostate health, diabetes, erectile dysfunction (50% improval over 4 weeks, now there's incentive!), and other age-related health conditions

**Wonderful refers to the variety of pomegranate grown specificially for POM Wonderful in the San Joaquin Valley in California. They are known for having a unique combination of super antioxidants, a sweet rather than too pungent taste, and a deep crimson colour.

(Disclaimer: The pomegranate salad picture is used, with courtesy, from the POM Wonderful website, which is an excellent reference source)

Pomegranate, Pecan and Persimmon Salad from the POM Wonderful website which features a broad range of delicious recipes using pomegranates for breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, and drinks

Salad:

- 1 cup arils from 1 - 2 large POM Wonderful pomegranates

- 8 cups baby romaine lettuce (substitute butter lettuce, or any other subtle, tender, sweet lettuce like Bibb)

- 1/2 cup thinly sliced green onion

- 2 ripe persimmons, peeled and cut into thin wedges

- 1/2 cup finely chopped pecans (feel free to substitute your own candied or roasted salted pecans in place of plain)

Dressing:

- juice from 1 large POM Wonderful pomegranate (cut the fruit in half, and juice with a citrus reamer) OR 2 tbsp POM Wonderful 100% Pomegrante Juice

- 2 tbsps white wine vinegar

- 1/8 tsp cinnamon

- 1 tsp honey

- 3 tbsp olive oil

salt and pepper to taste

Directions:

1. Score 1-2 pomegranates and place in a bowl of water. Break open the pomegrantes under water to free the arils/seed sacs. The arils will sink to the bottom of the bowl and the membrane will float to the top. Sieve and put the arils in a separate bowl. Reserve 1 cup of the arils from the fruit and set aside.

2. In a large bowl, combine the leaf lettuce, arils, green onion, ripe persimmons, and pecans.

3. Mix all the dressing ingredients together and toss into the salad.

Beetroot and What On Earth To Do With It

**beets from my parents vegetable garden

~ roasted beetroot are deliciously sweet and fragrant. Wrap individuallly in foil and peel after they are cooked.
~ if you are using smaller sized beets, wash and peel before placing in a large wrap of aluminum foil, and toss with olive oil, rosemary, whole garlic cloves and sea salt and cook on the barbecue on medium for an hour
~ eaten raw, beets are the perfect salad ingredient adding a garnet coloured festiveness to plain leaf lettuce. Wash, peel and then grate the beetroot. Squeeze the grated beetroot of excess liquid before adding to the salad.
~ wash and peel the beets and then cut into wedges. Cook in butter over medium-high heat on the stovetop until done and then quickly braise in red wine and stock with peppercorns and serve with game meats such as venison.
~ make a dip! Beetroot tastes fantastic raw in a dip and looks marvelous served in a white bowl with cucumber wedges and toasted pita crackers for colour contrast. Roast the beets without peeling them; once cooked and cooled, peel, puree with a bit of sour cream, and flavour to taste with garlic, cumiin and salt.

It's true I was a picky eater as a child. I remember feeling irritable before even sitting down at the dinner table. Irritable that I had to eat "with company", meaning my family, meaning my mother who breathed too loudly and who crunched her lettuce in a slow, methodical way that made my palms start to sweat, and my father who chewed with his mouth open while taking in gulps of wine simultaneously and the sensation in my mouth of what was going on in his made me gag and lose my appetite, my older sister who had a way of describing a mundane detail of the day, something like inserting a new lead cartridge into a pencil, with such importance and articulation that it was dessert at about the time I felt like raising a white flag, and my younger brother who was the only person I would have chosen to take with me should the house have begun to burn and I was anywhere between 5 and 18 years of age. Books became my distraction, my touchstone of sanity during the long boring hour of family dinnertime. I kept one on my lap and could speed read a paragraph between each pretend bite. I remember liking broccoli stems, not the furry florets that tickled the throat on the way down, and possibly mashed potatoes with small pockets of butter like shimmering gold in a sea of pale sand. I also remember hating everything else, most especially anything that had eyes or a tail or was once covered in fur or scales, and beetroot, pickled or boiled be damned, the smell of them cooking, the combination acrid sweetness, was as awful to me at the time as being tossed head first into a deep compost bin at the end of a sweltering August. When I moved away at the age of 16, I never looked at a beet again. In fact, I don't think I even had to try that hard, it was the 80s after all and local produce and the celebration of it hadn't reached the religious fervor of today, and people weren't really eating vegetables as anything more than a sprig of parsley as decoration or a side salad. I went away to University as a vegetarian and at the mercy of the local catering service lived on a dinner of boiled peas and corn on top of a mound of white rice for 321 days. And then I discovered both the flavour and art of raw vegetables and this was a long time back. Nowadays, almost every vegetable comes in an array of natural colours (white carrots, orange beets, purple potatoes, tiger striped tomatoes, etc.) and miniature sizes. This past weekend, while at the Creemore Farmers Market, I picked up two large hearty bunches of beets from The New Farm. They were glorious round globes of earth tones. After clipping off 2 large bags of beet leaves (to be used later in pasta sauce), I scrubbed the beets, cut them in half, added olive oil and coarse salt and roasted for an hour in the oven. It's true I have become a beet convert. After 15 years of not seeing or smelling one, I could say it's true that absence makes the heart grow fonder, or perhaps it's just that memories that used to punctuate all the senses have grown blurry lines. And I will mention to people who still have a hate on for beets, that when they are shredded while raw, and added to a salad, they really, truly taste exactly like carrot. I would not tell a lie, at least when beets are involved.

Musing Over the Politics of Food (Plus a Salad Recipe, Of Course!)

The two times I felt the most enmeshed with the producers of the food I ate was when I lived in smaller, rural communities. Roadside fruit and vegetable stands stayed open in all seasons except for winter. The farmers market in town was populated with all the farmers within a 10 km radius who wore overalls and sported several missing teeth. In the city, the farmers markets tend to attract sellers of expensive heirloom vegetables and exotic naturally raised meats and they are often young with goatees and wearing Blundstones. One is not necessarily better than the other, it just goes to illustrate how both farming and food have come since the early days of Wendell Berry. As a person who eats meals almost exclusively made out of fruits and vegetables, it makes sense for me to try to source locally, but for several reasons, I don't get all foamy at the mouth over the subject.

Some of it has to do with context. I recently spent the weekend in my old stomping grounds - southern Georgian Bay around Creemore, Ontario. Now this town is unusual for many reasons. It has a slightly sketchy typical small town aura but only in minute degradations and you have to look and smell really hard to find it. Otherwise, it's a blend of full time folks who are all actively engaged in the local BIA, and help to drive the town in the direction it's going which is running with a hot docs festival, a music festival, community fundraisers with big time names, and a main street checkered with successful independent businesses - a bookstore, a 100 Mile grocery store, a beloved children's toy shop, art galleries, pottery shops, salvage stores and an array of high end catering/coffee stores. There isn't a Tim Horton's in spitting distance, let alone a McDonalds, a Walmart, or a Canadian Tire. The hardware store and the meat shop are local derived and locally driven. The town also has a large weekend populace, including Margaret Wente and Andy Barrie. The farmers market has Michael Statdlander's bread. So let's just say, well the whole environment is intoxicating it isn't necessarily the most accurate indicator of what is going on in the world. That said, I give kudos to how supportive the residents are of their local farmers and producers. The Georgian Bay magazine, On the Bay, who I used to write for when I lived in the area, has a bunch of food articles in their recent release: how to cook and eat local, profiles of local farmers, write ups on local wine producers and reviews of in town restaurants. When you are up in these parts it is easy to swallow the yellow countryside as the sun sets and wade in the various running rapids let alone head to town and pick up homemade breads and fresh picked flowers and a vegetable bounty previously unseen. I was up there this past weekend and we ate flank steak and fresh fish from the 100 mile store in addition to local new potatoes, beets, beans, corn, melons, tomatoes, garlic plus organic milk and yogurt for the kids and Creemore Coffee blends. Such is the life. If you can have it, afford, be born into it.

As much as I admire those who parachute on weekends into small towns and buy local. It's admirable and the right thing to do. It shows engagement and support and those are two key things locals pick up on from their wayfarers. I also have questions about the whole politicising of food and how it is presented. I believe in organic but I've never really bought it. I agree with Margaret Wente that a little pesticide never really hurt anyone and I can't frankly afford organic. Basically, I buy it ON SALE. So there. I'm a foodie and I don't give a rats ass for organics. Local I agree with, but only to a point. I'm not going to pay a farmer from Guelph to drive into Toronto to deliver me fresh free range eggs. I can get those at my local grocery and save on the carbon tax. Plus I don't need to pretend to my friends, as I jet around the world first class, and work for a multinational, that I "care" because I know a single farmer in the province. That is not me. I make judicious choices not flagrant ones. Recently I worked a contract at the Ministry of Children and Youth Services. I was in the policy department and these people, these good, hardworking, passionate people, are scurrying around day and night, just so you know, writing policies and programs to help youth succeed after getting out of crown care or foster care or a group home. Have you ever thought about these kids? Probably not, neither had I. Until then. I met a few and not only were they mature and smart and savvy they were frustrated and angry about the lack of life skills they were given. These are kids in an urban environment who do not care about an organic yam from Peru in your good food box and how to prepare it rather they want to know how to survive. How to grocery shop. How to grocery budget. How to prepare a simple meal. So, for all of us locavores, and food activisits, what to do when a kid, one of many, says, well, I eat packaged cereal/eggos/crackers/junk all day and every day because I don't know a single thiing about what is good for me, how to shop, how to cook. So as I step away from this post gently, I am thinking that I care more about people eating well, eating nutritionally, than I do about where the food comes from. No Frills and Price Choppers should combine with local nutritionists or chefs and hold seminars once a month. The government should not only make nutrition/home economics related to food a requisite course in high school, it should encourage the combined relationship of food growers and crown care youth. Working on a farm or in a kitchen is often one of the most inspiring places to be. I grew up in a privileged environment and I know I would've glommed onto the experience. I can only imagine what some struggling youths might feel about having a purpose around where food comes from, why it's important, how to feed yourself and your family, and your loved ones, and the beauty wrapped up inside all of that.

And oh yeah, the salad. Well, I'm unemployed at the moment, working contract, figuring out next life steps. I'm careful about my money down to the penny. But I like to eat well. So, there's nothing that goes further in giving you a smack of vitamins than a huge head of Italian parsley. Chop it up finely and add it in doses to salads. Floss afterwards. Radicchio, the red, Italian bitter lettuce, can also be had for cheap in some green grocers. It adds colour. Then buy romaine or green leaf or whatever looks good, edible and isn't overly pricey. Wash, toss and chop. I bought a huge head of Ontario cauliflower because it was cheap and because I like it roasted with cumin seeds and the damn thing, like a head of cabbage, lasts forever.  I added a few cubes of gruyere cheese that was in a large block on sale in the no name section of Loblaws. It tasted delicious. I also added a tin of 99 cent flaked tuna. Some bulk sunflower seeds would have been good too. Or some grated beets. I just added a touch of canola oil and a dash of lemon juice and salt and pepper.

Eating On The Cheap! - Lentil, Parsley and Lemon Salad.

So, if you are anything like me, you are broke. Down to your last few dollars. Scraping the coins to buy your dog some lean ground beef for dinner, tossed with a raw egg, some maple syrup, and a clove of garlic. Buying things and chopping and cutting them at night for the next day at work so when you find yourself "peckish" mid-morning, mid-afternoon, or again, if you're like me, and get hungry when bored, then, sadly an all day emptiness, you can just grab another ziplock of whatever: grapes, cherries, almonds and dried apricots, baby carrots & hummous. I prepare both breakfast (cut up melon and berries, my new favourite melon in season being an orange flesh coloured honeydew: sweet and flavourful) and lunch (a large tupper of salad greens, a protein, or 2 (legumes and a sprinkling of nuts or seeds), a dairy (cubes of crumbled feta or diced hard cheese), and an array of pretty things: radishes, sugar snap peas, currants, pepitas, rose hued sea salt. I can't afford to buy breakfast and coffee and snacks and lunch these days. Nope, I'm still in penance for thinking it was a good idea last July to quit my job and move up north with my boyfriend whom I fought with. A lot. I had all sorts of visions in my hand, a century home, a beach, turquoise fresh water, small town charm, ice skating, getting pregnant, getting married, and, well, moving to Italy. By month three, it was pretty clear things were diverting south, downward, and fast. I spent a hefty winter alone in 12 feet of snow. Toronto has been refreshing in many ways but career wise I skidded myself short. I never thought I'd missed paid vacation days but oh, yes, dear god, I do. I keep interviewing with places where they work long hours and on Christmas Eve and until 5 pm on Fridays and again, Oh God, I didn't know how good I had it.

Anyway, back to food, and being broke, if you are as penny pinching as I am these days, well, I have the recipe for you. Provided you like beans and fresh herbs. Buy a large bag of dried split green lentils, the smaller the better. I rinsed and drained about 3 cups worth and added to a large pot with 5x that amount of water. I brought ot a boil and reduced to medium-low and cooked for about 20 minutes. I rinsed and drained and tossed into a large bowl. I chopped up into medium-smallish sized pieces a whole bunch of Italian flat leaf parsley. I tossed with the warm lentils, and added a few tablespoons of toasted sesame seeds, some sea salt, a squeeze of lemon, a few rounds of olive oil drizzles, and a last dash of red wine vinegar. The salad will last me all week. I will add several heaping spoonfuls to shredded red leaf lettuce and call it lunch. Split into five, it costs about 75 cents a day and is marvelously delicious and filling and healthy. Try adding a curry vinaigrette instead to add more punch. Also try adding cooked bulgur or whole wheat couscous. Or, heck, cherry tomatoes.

Lentils have a fair bit of calcium in them, and good amounts of vitamins A and B, as well as being excellent sources of iron and phosphorous.

How To Eat More Fruit

 

I'm back working downtown in an office which means I am back struggling to find ways to eat fresh and healthy homemade food throughout the long days. A couple tips that might help you if you face the same challenges.

1. Find a supermarket near where you work. I'm at Yonge and College and there is a Metro grocery store under the office tower. Not only can I pick up things for dinner on my break, I can also buy things to keep at the office: half melons that are ready to eat for breakfast, baby carrots, hummous, fruit that bruises during travel, i.e. nectarines, plums, peaches and bananas to keep on the desk. 

2. Take 15 minutes on a Sunday and cut up whatever fruit concoction you like and put it in a large container in the fridge. Above I have canteloup melon, an atulfo mango, and organic blueberries. I took one serving of the fruit and put it in a smaller tupperware. I have my breakfast ready to take with me to work each morning with no preparation required. 

3. Forget the attitude that the day is so packed with meetings that you won't have time for lunch and therefore nibble on crackers and the end of a baguette. Because the nibbling will turn into broken off pieces until you've eaten an entire loaf of bread. You won't feel satisfied because you won't have ingested any nutrients of value! Prepare lunches that are mostly devoid of carbs (an afternoon buzz killer, you'll be dozing off by 3 pm) and instead stick to vegetables, protein, and little fat. In the summer, large salads full of romaine lettuce, nuts, legumes and cubes of cheese provide tons of energy. A tin of tuna, mixed with cut up radishes, chopped cucumber and seasoned with sea salt, lemon and olive oil is easy to prepare and more nutritious than almost anything you could find at a salad bar. To make preparing lunches easier, I wash my lettuce and put it into large sealed freezer bags. When the huge plastic tubs of spring lettuces are on sale at the supermarket I buy those and use that lettuce throughout my work week. I make my lunches the night before as I'm preparing dinner then it doesn't become a separate chore to find motivation to tackle.