Edible Tulip

Moqueca de Peixe - Brazilian Fish Stew

 

It's December. It half rained, half snowed today. We've still got a few weeks before we tip towards extending daylight. The season is a mad jamboree of fesitivities, some fun, some obligatory, but both time consuming. I have a weekend coming up that I've stamped MINE. I will read back issues of the New Yorker. Paint my toe nails. Take many epsom salt baths. Walk Simon. Walk Simon. Walk Simon. Make homemade bread. Make this spicy stew, originated in the northern state of Bahia, in Brazil - a tropical fish stew with aromas of garlic, lime and coconut milk. Anything, any flavour, any rhythm, any vision, that gets me closer to Brazil in early December is on the menu.

** My alterations: I chose fresh clams over clam juice. I also used tilapia in lieu of endangered sea bass. I used a 28-oz can of diced tomatoes, plus 3 flavourful hot house tomatoes chopped. I seasoned my stew with fresh tarragon and thyme instead of cilantro.

This recipe is adapted fromo Cooking Light, September 2001

 

Moqueca de Peixe

 

1/3 cup fresh lime juice

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 (1 1/2-pound) sea bass or halibut fillet, cut into 1/2-inch wide strips

1 1/2 pounds large shrimp, peeled and deveined

2 tablespoons olive oil

2 cups finely chopped onion

1 cup finely chopped green bell pepper

1 cup finely chopped red bell pepper

3/4 cup minced green onions (about 1 bunch)

5 garlic cloves, minced

1 bay leaf

2 cups chopped tomato (about 2 large)

1/2 cup minced fresh cilantro, divided

2 (8-ounce) bottles clam juice

1 (14 1/2-ounce) can fat-free, less-sodium chicken broth (or vegetable broth)

1 cup light coconut milk

1/4 teaspoon ground red pepper

 

Combine first 6 ingredients in a large bowl; toss to coat. Marinate in refrigerator 30 minutes.

Heat oil in a large Dutch oven over medium heat. Add the onion, bell peppers, green onions, garlic, and bay leaf; cook 6 minutes, stirring occasionally. Increase heat to medium-high; add tomato, and cook 2 minutes. Add 1/4 cup cilantro, clam juice, and broth. Bring to a boil; reduce heat, and simmer 10 minutes. Discard bay leaf.

 

Place one-third of vegetable mixture in a blender, and puree until smooth. Pour pureed vegetable mixture into pan. Repeat procedure with remaining vegetable mixture. Add coconut milk and red pepper to pureed vegetable mixture. Bring to a boil over medium-high heat; cook 3 minutes. Add fish mixture; cook 3 minutes or until fish is done. Sprinkle with 1/4 cup cilantro.

 

Black Bean & Sweet Potato Soup

 

I'm in a bit of an eating rut. It's a seasonal flirtation that comes around as the moon looms and the leaves all drop to the ground for cover. A hearty reliable butternut squash certainly never crosses my mind on a sultry summer night when I'm pairing zesty shrimp with arugula or tossing grilled peaches onto salad. Summer is for slipping off your shoes and encouraging the world to wow you. Fall is different. Melancholy wins the day. My salary these days is mostly spent on red wine and candles. And butternut squash and sweet potatoes and pomegranates and bok choy and Chinese broccoli and bean sprouts and ruby red grapefruits and red lentils and limes and avocados. I've been eating a lot of beans and greens and one too many members of the gourd family. This soup recipe is a good foil. It tastes entirely different but in essence it's made of exactly what I've been eating ritually and what I still crave. Why ruin a good thing?

The recipe doesn't have a lot of ingredients, and you can pick and choose your spices depending on personal preference. You can leave it chunky once cooked through, or you could do as I did, and use an immersion blender, and puree 3/4 of it, leaving a few whole cubes of yam.  

Right before eating, I put two smallish dollops of whole milk plain yogurt on top, swirled it into a faint cirrostratus cloud formation, and finished off with some finely chopped cilantro. The texture is so creamy and so powerfully subtle, it reminded me of the flavours I ate in the mountains outside of Guadalajara in Mexico where the volcanoes still smoke.

Blackbean & Sweet Potato Soup, serves 6 generously

2 Tbsp vegetable oil

1 large yellow onion (cooking onion), chopped

3 medium cloves of garlic, chopped

1 1/2 tsp coriander

1 Tbsp cumin

1/2 tsp chinese 5-spice

1/4 teaspoon dry mustard

Freshly ground pepper

6 cups water

2 chicken or vegetable boullion cubes

2 cans of black beans, rinsed and drained

1 large, or 2 smallish-medium sized, sweet potoatoes, peeled and diced

Sea salt

Topping suggestions: lime slices, lime juice, avocado cubes, chopped parsley or cilantro, yogurt or sour cream.

Serve with corn bread and sharp cheddar cheese with a side of spicy coleslaw or serve as a starter to a Mexican inspired meal of empanadas, fish or chicken corn tortillas, or chilaquiles.

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.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++

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.

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.