Spring in Boston has been spectacular, and winter faded into a distant memory. Even the leeks forgot the 80+ inches, standing tall in the garden as if nary a flake of snow covered their leaves.
(I think the state flower of Massachusetts should be the "Bleeding Heart" in honor of all the liberals.)
Just as I harvested last fall’s leeks, I also cut my first salad of the season.
And to bring it full circle, I served them with smoked tomatoes from last summers’ harvest. How neat to have a completely fresh ingredients with 3 seasons on one plate and in harmony!
Leek and Goat Cheese Tart with Smoked Tomato Coulis This is a great dish as an appetizer, or served with pork or chicken for a main meal.
pie dough 3 slices bacon 4 leeks, cut into rounds and washed 1/2 tsp. curry powder 4 oz. goat cheese 1 cup half -n- half (or milk) 3 eggs 4 smoked tomatoes 1/2 cup chicken broth salt and pepper to taste
1. Roll out pie dough and form into pie tins, or 1 8” pan. Blind bake for 15 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, in a medium skillet over a medium flame, render the bacon with the leeks. Cook until the bacon is crisp and the leeks are soft. Drain off any excess fat. Add curry powder and cook for 1 minute more. Season to taste with salt and pepper.
3. Dot the goat cheese in the bottom of the pie tarts. Evenly divide 1 smoked tomato and the leeks among the tarts.
4. Mix eggs and half -n- half. Season with salt and pepper. Add enough custard to fill tarts.
5. Bake for 20 minutes at 425 for small tarts, or 40 minutes for a large one.
6. Puree remaining smoked tomatoes with chicken broth. Warm gently on the stove top. Season with salt, pepper and lemon juice. Add a touch of cream, just before serving, if you’d like.
By the time the second pig is in the scalder, the butchers are well on their way to figuring out the anatomy of the animal. The head is removed, and Jeff cuts out the tongue and cheeks, and trims the jowls. Karen holds the legs apart so that Rusty can deftly saw the animal in half with a butcher saw. Tal and I stand ready, each to receive a half. I initially grab the animal tentatively, so as not to bloody my coat, but I quickly realize that I must brace the 150 lb. side with my whole body in order to carry it the final 10 feet to the butcher table. Rusty demonstrates on the first half, and I follow along on the second half: I remove the tenderloin from the ribs. The ham and picnic (the front and back leg quarters) are cut off. The ribs are separated from the loin chops and the belly.
The second pig is brought into the barn, and we relax a bit. People with clean hands open beers or serve bourbon-soaked cherries. It’s cold in the barn and the propane heaters aren’t enough to take the chill out of the air. But the music on the radio is lively, and the spirit is good.
Before confronting the second pig, we break down the first one further: The skin and its underlying layer of fat (“back fat”) are removed for salt pork. The bellies are trimmed into bacons, and rubbed with salt and brown sugar to begin the curing process (in three weeks, when the curing is complete, they will be smoked to finish them off). Meat from the picnics are trimmed for sausages. Pork chops are cut to a generous 2” thickness.
By five o’clock the animals are all butchered. The bacons have begun to cure. The scrap meat has been set aside for sausage, as has the lard. The back fat has been salted.
Back at the house, Jeff has been busily preparing dinner: cleaning the kidneys to sauté, poaching the fresh tongues, making sauces. Drea is putting the final glazes on a chocolate cake. A stuffed turkey, the main dish, is already roasting in the oven.
We do a preliminary clean up of the barn and then take our much needed showers. Tal brings in the wines, Pinot Gris, Riesling, and Pinot Noir, a perfect pairing for our dinner:
Sautéed Pork Tongue with a mustard-apple sauce Sautéed Pork Kidney with a Tarragon Reduction Turkey stuffed with Peachy-Mamas and Glutinous Rice Fresh Mesclun Salad Chocolate Torte with Rosemary Crème Anglaise
The next day, there is still much work ahead: processing the meat for sausages and prosciutto. But now we can add to the breakfast menu: Fried Pork Nuggets (Chicharrones) with Creamy-Cheesy Corn Grits and homemade, smoked chile salsa.
After breakfast, we divvy up the tasks for making sausage. Karen and I are appointed the official grinders. Brett seasons, and Jeff cooks-up tasters. For each of the recipes, we pass around samples to see if we like the recipe… a little more salt? a little more spice? a touch of vinegar? When we finally get it just right, Bob and Ron stuff the sausages into pre-soaked casings. Jeff pricks and twists them, and hangs them out to dry. Once they are dry, Brett, Drea and Chris package them.
We start with Chorizo, utilizing the hearts, some meat and 30% fat. We season with chilies, fennel, cumin, onions, garlic and oregano. Next comes Sicilian Sausage laden with garlic and freshly dried fennel seeds, then Classic Italian Sausage, Liverwurst, and then the dried sausages: Soppreseto and Pepperoni.
The day has its challenges: The non-commercial grade meat grinders overheat, we run out of sausage casings. Our tempo slows… my mood sours a little as I grind five gallons of liver for the liverwurst, the liver turning into liquid mush as it oozes out of the grinder. Jeff offers to finish the liver for me. But it sours him as well.
Bob drives off in search of more natural casings. (We don’t use the pigs’ intestines because cleaning them is not only very laborious but also very smelly!) We wrapped the grinders with ice-packs, and made a round of cleaning the kitchen. Even the bourbon-soaked cherries do not enliven our spirits.
Three hundred pounds of sausage is an ambitious task without proper equipment. (It wasn’t until the grinders overheated that we realized we did not have the proper tools).
By seven o’clock, we have ground and stuffed all we could. We are mostly done. The soppresetos are in the basement drying, and we begin to clean up. Shareholders pack their cars with sausages and chops; they will return to the farm later for the cured meats.
We are tired, but energized by our accomplishments.
As Bob is packing his truck he notices deer prancing in the fields. Bob and Rusty shoot a deer… but that’s another story.
The phone rang… Brett was on the other end of the line telling me it was time. The weather forecast for the weekend was chilly and the pigs had finally reached their finishing weight. Did I want to come down to help with the pig matanza?
As a chef, I like to be as close to the source of my food as possible. I grab every opportunity to visit Brett’s farm to cook with tomatoes that are still warm from the sun, eggs that are only hours old, and chickens that actually have taste and texture. When Brett invited me to join the matanza (Spanish for slaughter, perhaps a euphemism for the rest of us) I knew I had to attend. Having experienced the hard physical labor, along with blood, guts and stench of a turkey matanza the previous autumn, I was a bit squeamish about pigs: Larger animals, larger gore-factor. Because I had not purchased a share in the animals, I had no obligation to attend. But with the hope of taking home some nonpareil pork, I eagerly accepted the invitation.
The pigs arrived on the farm in July when they were just 3 weeks old, and no more than 50 pounds, about the size of a basset hound. They lived in an old chicken coup. By mid-August, they were quickly outgrowing their home. Brett and his friend Bob built their new home: a pen the size of a football field that would house the pigs until the matanza, scheduled for the end of January, 5 months later. I helped drive stakes into the ground that would brace the fencing and electric wire. The pen was completed with a shaded area to escape the summer sun and a mud pit to cool off in.
By late January, the pigs reached their desired “slaughter weight” of about 500 pounds. And the outside air temperature was cool enough so that no additional refrigeration was needed to preserve the more than 1000 pounds of meat and sausage that would be generated.
Twelve of us arrive for the weekend. Most are shareholders, owners in a portion of the pigs, and all are Brett’s friends. Bob, Brett’s closest friend, who runs a pet store in southern Maryland, owns 2 pigs. Bob has been helping to care for the pigs: building the larger pen in August, feeding them and regularly hosing the mudpit, to ensure the drought did not dry it up. Ron, another local, owns one pig. Rusty and Karen who had been Brett and Chris’s neighbors in Arlington, are kindred spirits. Despite their urban home, they often come to the bay to hunt, fish and garden. Jeff is a chef in Bethesda, MD, and like me has become addicted to the quality of Brett’s product. Even though he cannot sell the Pig at his restaurant, he could not resist buying a share of one, and participating in the experience. His girlfriend, vegetarian and pastry chef, Drea, joins him. And finally, Tal arrives, a wine merchant to the DC area restaurants.
My Friday responsibility is to provide the evening meal. Brett suggests I cook chickens: he has too many. Of course, when I arrive on the farm at 1pm, they are still in their freshest state – squawking around the farm. By 6 o’clock, the chickens have been slaughtered, plucked and cleaned, and are happily braising in the oven.
At 5 a.m. Saturday morning, Brett heads out to the field next to the barn to set up the scalding pot. A large black cauldron sits atop a wood pit-fire . It will take about two hours for the water to reach 165 degrees Fahrenheit, the ideal temperature for soaking the slaughtered pigs so that the hair can be removed. About ten feet from the scalder, tables are set up for the initial cleaning of the animal. The pig will then be carried into the barn for further “processing”.
By 7a.m. the rest of us begin to stir. We feast on a true farm breakfast — fresh cream biscuits and fried farm eggs, washed down with coffee.
Then to work: The first pig to be slaughtered is always a challenge. The systems have not yet been tested and standardized. Several shareholders go down to the pig pen to lure the pigs to the edge of the fencing with donuts (really!). When the pig approaches, he’s shot in the head with a handgun rifle. It is swift, and he dies quickly (and happy that his last meal was a Krispy Kreme). The remaining pigs are knee deep in their insouciance and mud, and follow the same lure of donuts when it is their turn.
The first pig’s hooves are tied together with rope and then hoisted onto the tractor. Brett drives the tractor to the scalder, with the pig dangling by its hooves. After a quick hosing to rinse off excess dirt, it is rigged onto an A-frame pulley, then lowered into the scalding water for one and a half minutes, and moved over to the work table. The hair easily shaves off with a metal scraper.
Only the gutting is truly smelly. The pig must be cut carefully with a sharp knife down the underside of the belly, taking care not to rupture the bladder or intestines, which would taint the meat. Once cut, Brett reaches into the belly and pulls out the innards, tying off the bladder and intestines before dumping them into a wheelbarrow from which they are discarded into the fields, mulching the ground and providing a meal for the vultures overhead. The liver, kidneys and heart are saved.
Several work-hands then move the pig into a wheelbarrow, and precariously push their load into the barn. The animal is hung on several hooks, rinsed again with a hose, and the butchery begins.
Then the whole process is repeated with the other five pigs…..
They say no idea is original, nor is any recipe. Most recipes take inspiration from someone else’s ideas. And my recipe for Juniper Scented Duck with Caramelized Balsamic Sauce and Celeriac Puree is no different.
Lorenza de Medici has a recipe for wild boar stew that has all sorts of unique flavorings and techniques. The marinade and subsequent braising liquid calls for juniper (the pine berry that is also the prominent flavoring in gin), red wine, carrots celery and onions. Separately, she caramelizes sugar with garlic, and then adds red wine vinegar to create a sweet and sour flavor. When the pork is cooked, the meat is pulled out, and the braising liquid (along with all the mushy vegetables) are pureed to act as a thickener to the stew. She finishes the sauce with chocolate, prunes and almonds.
As I often do, I substitute proteins within a recipe… chicken for pork, pork for duck, duck for beef or tuna, and so on… for this recipe, I decided duck breasts would be a fine substitute for the wild boar. And since duck breasts don’t require a long braising time (and in fact suffer from that) more modifications were necessary.
The duck received the same marinade as the original recipe. I then poached a technique from Thomas Keller to cook the duck “sous vide” I removed the skin, rolled up the duck breast lengthwise, the duck was rolled in a blanched cabbage leaf and then wrapped in plastic wrap like a tootsie roll. The whole package is poached in boiling water for 8 minutes for a perfect medium rare.
I liked the idea of the caramelized sugar for a sweet and sour sauce. But since I didn’t have red wine vinegar, I used balsamic instead. I didn’t want to lose the essence of the marinade, so I cooked that until the vegetables were tender, pureed that, and added it to the caramelized balsamic. Going back to the original recipe, I finished the sauce with chocolate. And recognizing my personal preferences, I omit the bay leaves, candied citron, raisins and pine nuts.
The prunes transformed into a tart relish with fresh plums, shallots and thyme.
Celeriac Puree pairs magically with the sauce – complimenting both the sweet and sour flavor, as well as the juniper.
Of course, I couldn’t lose the duck skin. Those went into the oven until they transformed into cracklings.
All together, this was an elegant main meal for the Passover Seder last week. I serve this dish year-round, sometimes with duck, other times with pork tenderloin, and sometimes even with tuna.
Original Recipe:
3 pounds wild boar
2 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
2 celery stalks, roughly chopped
2 yellow onions, peeled and roughly chopped
½ bottle red wine
4 tbs. extra virgin olive oil
1 tsp. juniper berries
2 bay leaves
salt
1 tsp. black pepper
¼ cup sugar
½ cup red wine vinegar
4 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
2 oz. grated bitter chocolate
1/3 cup raisins, soaked in water
½ cup pitted prunes, soaked in water
¼ cup pine nuts
1 tbs. candied citron, finely chopped.
1. Twenty-fours ahead, put the meat in a good-sized, flameproof casserole together with the carrots, celery and onions. Add the wine and marinate for 24 hours, turning from time to time.
2. On the serving day, remove the meat from the marinade and pat dry. In a large skillet, heat the olive oil until it begins to color. Brown the meat on all sides. Strain the vegetables from the marinade add to the meat with the juniper berries, 1 of the bay leaves, salt and pepper. Pour some of the marinade over. Cover and simmer for 1 ½ hours or until the meat is tender, adding the remaining marinade, a little at a time.
3. Transfer the meat to a flameproof casserole. Puree the vegetables, then pour them over the meat and reheat. In a sauce pan, melt the sugar with the garlic and remaining bay leaf, and cook until lightly colored. Add the vinegar and bitter chocolate. Boil for a few minutes. Add the sauce to the meat together with the raisins, prunes, pine nuts and candied citron. Simmer for an additional 10 minutes before serving.
Julia’s Revised Recipe
Duck Roulade with Caramelized Balsamic Sauce, Roasted Plums and Juniper
8 duck breasts, skin removed
2 carrots, peeled and chopped
2 celery stalks, chopped
2 onions, peeled and chopped
2 cups red wine
1 tsp. juniper berries
8 big leaves from savoy cabbage (with no splits or tears)
1/4 cup sugar
2 cloves garlic, finely chopped
1/2 cup balsamic vinegar
2 oz. chocolate or butter
2 plums, quartered and chopped
6 prunes, pitted and chopped coarsely.
1 tsp. thyme, chopped
1 shallot, sliced or diced
salt and pepper to taste
1. Marinate duck with wine, juniper, salt, pepper, carrots, onions, and celery for up to 24 hours.
2. Bring a pot of water to boil. Cook cabbage leaves for 1 or 2 minutes, or just until wilted. Drain. Carefully, cut away large rib.
3. Remove duck from marinade.
4. Tear off a piece of plastic wrap about 20 inches long, and lay it across a work surface. Place cabbage leaf down. Roll duck breast, lengthwise into cylinder, and place cylinder of cabbage leaf. Roll leaf around breast. Trim edges, and roll tightly into plastic wrap. Roll both ends of wrap to secure shape and tie with kitchen string. Refrigerate packets until ready to cook.
5. Meanwhile, combine the sugar with the garlic and ¼ cup of water in a small sauce pot. Stir, over high flame just until the sugar dissolves. When the sugar begins to caramelize and turns a deep amber color, add the vinegar. Simmer for 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the sugar re-dissolves (it will seize up with the vinegar is added)
6. Cook marinade in a covered sauce pot over medium flame until carrots are tender. Puree the vegetables with a little bit of the wine and add about 1/2 – 1 cup to the balsamic sauce (taste after adding 1/2 cup and add more to taste). Swirl in chocolate and set aside in a warm place.
7. Toss plums with shallots and thyme. Season with salt, pepper, and balsamic vinegar. Roast in the oven for 15 minutes. Mix with prunes
8. Bring a large pot of water to a boil. Add duck packages and cook for 8 minutes, for medium/medium-rare. Remove from water and let rest for a few minutes before removing the plastic and slicing.
9. Serve with asparagus and celeriac puree
Celeriac Puree
3 knobs celery root (celeriac)
½ – 1 cup cream
truffle carpaccio
salt, pepper and lemon juice to taste
Peel celery root. Cut into 1/8th. Put in a pot of cold salted water. Boil the be-jeebies out of it. When tender, drain. Put in a food processor, and puree with approximately 1/2 cup of cream. Add lemon juice, 1 squeeze at a time, until it is seasoned to your taste. Adjust seasoning with salt and pepper.
I arrived in Hong Kong at 6pm, bleary-eyed from a 24 hour flight but also fully aware that I should get a bite to eat and try to stay awake until 9pm. I headed down Wanchai Road in search of food and adventure.
I was intrigued since I had never seen such culinary action in the US. And so the quest began to learn how to make these two dishes. The la mein has been a long saga without a happy ending, so I won’t regale the details here. The rice noodles on the other hand…
I took two cooking classes during my trip to mainland China, but had to wait until my trip to Vietnam to see the rice paper/noodle in action. As I explored various cooking school options, I focused on a course that would teach me had to steam rice paper or rice noodles.
A woman in the Mekong Delta making rice paper
In the class at The Red Bridge Cooking School, we learned how to steam the rice paper for fresh summer rolls. The chef gave us instructions for making the batter… soaking raw white rice in water over night and then pureeing it with 4 parts water for 7 minutes. The batter was already made for the students to then steam on the steamer-contraption they had set up. Imagine a tambourine (without the jingle) with a taut, translucent fabric set over a steamer. The batter is poured onto the drum and smoothed out with a ladle; I made one rather successfully. As I started to make a second, the instructor stopped me… “No, no, no. Only make one.” I was disappointed but also felt I had enough resources to try again when I returned home.
Attempt #1 was an unmitigated disaster. I tried to fashion a steamer-drum using a cotton napkin and an extra-large rubber-band. I soaked the rice overnight and then put it in the blender to puree. And puree. And puree. The batter never became smooth enough to make the thin crepe-like batters, but I tried cooking a few anyway. The napkin smoldered around the burner, the batter seeped through the napkin leaving the grainy rice on top. I was defeated and didn’t think about it again until I saw the recipe for steamed rice rolls on Ravenous Couple’s blog.
For their batter, they used rice flour and tapioca starch. This seemed doable to me. So I set out again to make the rice paper. Making a steaming device remained the unresolved challenge. But then the flash of brilliance passed before me just long enough to realize that a silk screen (typically used for making art and t-shirts) might also work.
Did you know that silk is flame-proof? I learned this in the Arab markets in Jerusalem. If the salesperson claims the fabric is pure silk, ask if you can take a match to it. If they say okay, they know that the silk won’t catch fire. If they say no, then fabric is probably made of polyester or other flammable material. This was a useful factoid to remember as the silk of the steamer dangled precariously above the burner.
At the local craft store, I bought a sheet of silk (though I could have also bought the whole silk screen set up, the size didn’t seem right for me) and a large rubber band. I wrapped the silk around the bamboo steamer. Success #1.
I then made a filling of pork and mushrooms to go inside the eventual rice papers. Pretty straightforward, and another check in the success column.
Batter… Easy. I measured out the flours and mixed with water. Check.
Cooking the batter was a bit of challenge, but after a few attempts I was able to successful ladle the batter onto my steamer-drum, fill it with the pork and roll it up.
As I was photographing the final dish, I thought to myself, “Self, this was good, but I don’t think it’s good enough to go through the effort. Glad I tried it.” And then I tasted it and thought, “Well, okay. That was pretty damn tasty. Let me think of an occasion when it would be appropriate.”
And then I started to clean the kitchen….
Steamed Rice Noodle Rolls with Ground Pork
4 oz. rice flour 3 1/2 oz. tapioca flour 1/4 tsp. salt 2 1/2 cups water plain oil filling (see recipe below) dipping sauce (see recipe below)
1. Mix together flours, salt and water. 2. Put silk-steamer over a water bath. Bring water to a boil. 3. Brush oil over silk. Brush oil over cookie sheet. Brush oil over spatula that will be used to turn noodle. 4. Ladle a scant quarter cup over silk-drum. Spread the batter so it's very thin. Cook for 2 minutes, or until it begins to look translucent. 5. Sprinkle pork on top of noodle, and use the spatula to roll it up, starting from the edges. 6. Gently remove from steamer and placed on greased cookie sheet until ready to serve. 7. Serve with dipping sauce, garnish with scallions and fried shallots.
Filling
1/2 lb ground pork 8 shiitake mushrooms, steams removed, caps chopped 1 shallot, peeled and diced 2 garlic cloves, peeled and diced 1 tbs fish sauce 1/2 tsp. sugar 1 tsp. oil pinch salt and pepper
1. Heat a medium skillet over high heat. Add the oil. When oil is hot, add shallots and garlic.
2. Season pork with salt, pepper and sugar. Add to the pan, breaking up the meat. Cook until there is no more pink.
Joan Gussow, author of This Organic Life: Confessions of a Suburban Homesteader, hasn’t bought a vegetable in 15 years. Everything she cooks at home has been grown in her backyard in Suburban New York. I listened to her speak about the importance of land sustainability and the health of our planet at the Slow Money Conference this past September. She acknowledges that people have fewer choices when eating purely local. But the rewards are insurmountable.
The audience was rapt, and all I could think about were lemons. Whether I could grow enough vegetables in my garden to sustain me year-round is questionable at best. But what I would really miss the most are lemons and limes… and for sure, I would not be able to grow them here in zone 6 without a greenhouse (as a reference, most of California and Florida are zone 9 or 10). They make so many of my recipes pop with flavor. They give a dish that je nais se quoi, a brightness that can’t be achieved through salt, sugar or butter.
Now that things in my garden are quieting down, I’m buying more and more from the supermarket. And farther away from Joan’s idyllic word.
This dish couldn’t be farther away from local… the ingredients, the flavor profile. The only thing sustainable in this dish were the scallions and jalapenos from my garden. Hey, we can’t be perfect all of the time.
From the garden: scallions and chilies.
Spice Rubbed Pork Tenderloin with Caramelized Coconut Sauce and Pineapple Sauce adapted from Jean Georges Vongerichten
1/4 cup plus 2 teaspoons sugar 1/2 teaspoons ground coriander 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cumin 1/2 teaspoon turmeric 1/2 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper Cayenne pepper 2 pork tenderloins 2 tablespoons water 1 stalk lemongrass, chopped fine 2 cloves garlic, minced 1/2 cup unsweetened coconut milk 2 tablespoons Asian fish sauce 1 Thai green chile, minced 1 lime juiced Salt
1 cup diced fresh pineapple 1/4 red bell pepper, diced 2 scallions, cut into rounds 2 tablespoons thinly sliced cilantro
1. In a small bowl, mix 2 teaspoons of the sugar with the coriander, cumin, turmeric, black pepper and a pinch of cayenne. Season the pork with salt and rub the spices over it. Cover and refrigerate for about 1 hour.
2. Meanwhile, in a saucepan, mix the remaining 1/4 cup of sugar with the water and bring to a boil. Add the garlic and lemon grass. Simmer until an amber caramel forms, about 10 minutes. Off the heat, pour in the coconut milk and stir until the caramel dissolves. Add the fish sauce and chile, then let stand for 5 minutes. Strain the sauce and season with salt.
3. In a medium bowl, toss the pineapple, red pepper, scallions and lime juice with a pinch each of salt and cayenne.
4. Heat a large skillet over high heat. Add a tablespoon of plain oil. Brown the pork on all sides, and finish cooking in a 400 degree oven for about 12 minutes or cooked to your desired doneness.
Serve Pork Medallions with Sauce and Pineapple Salsa. Jasmine Rice is a wonderful accompaniment.
This year, I planted several new crops: leeks, kale and beets.
I purchased the leeks on a whim. For $2, I got a little pot with dozens (if not hundreds) of leek-hopeful sprouts. Given my propensity to over-seed, I was skeptical about the density of the sprouts.
When I got home, I tried to tease apart the seedling and spread them out across 3 rows. The roots, already sufficiently established, knotted together. As I gingerly pulled them apart, the sprouts drooped…. I propped them up in the soil, half burying each seedling. Some leeks got sufficient room, others remained crowded. With all the rain, they managed to reinvigorate themselves. This week, I tried to thin them some more. Can you believe, the roots are still tangled? Seriously, though, as I tried to pull out one of the larger leeks, some of the smaller ones came along for the ride.
I’ve officially crossed over from novice blogger to experienced blogger. This comes thanks to Kristen’s (of Dine and Dish) great program, “Adopt-a-Blogger”. Kristen founded this program to pair experienced bloggers with novice bloggers in a sort of mentoring program. I missed being a novice (though I had some wonderful mentoring from Lydia — THANK YOU LYDIA!). And now I’m *experienced*.
So without further ado, let me introduce you to my adoptee: Katie from Eat This. She hails from a small town outside of East Lansing. She’s cooking up a storm of whole grain and natural foods while finishing up her PhD in neuroscience. I’m psyched to try some of her recipes because she’s cooking with interesting yet common ingredients, inspiring me to get out of my usual ruts. You know, things like venison, jicama and bulgur. Also, very cool — she has a "cookbook of the month." Each month she cooks several recipes out of one cookbook… it's a great way to really delve into one particular style or theme. So check out her blog and say hello!
Honestly, I still feel like a novice blogger… just this week I'll celebrate my one year blogiversary. As I peruse Katie’s site, it looks like she’s figured out a lot of the technical things of blogging that I’m still working on (like widgets). Since I know that so many of you are more experienced blogging than me, I ask:
What advice would you offer the novice? __________________________ I never posted these Vietnamese Spring Rolls that I made during my cooking class in Hanoi. ¼ pound ground pork ¼ pound peeled and deveined shrimp 1 small bundle of glass noodles 2 eggs 5 scallions 1 handful wood ear mushrooms 1 handful dried shiitake ½ carrot ½ kohlrabi ½ small onion 4 small shallots 4 garlic cloves Handful cilantro 1 tsp fish sauce3 1 tsp. black pepper 2 tbs. oil 1 pack rice paper Vegetable oil for frying
1. Soak Mushrooms in warm water for 15 minutes 2. Soften glass noodles in a bowl of hot water. When soft, drain and set aside 3. Remove woody stems from mushrooms, and slice thinly. 4. Chop onions, shallots, garlic, cilantro and scallions. Combine in a bowl with the mushrooms. 5. Chop shrimp finely, and add along with pork to above mix. 6. Cut glass noodles into short lengths and add to the mix along with bean sprouts and remaining ingredients (except rice paper and vegetable oil for frying). 7. Mix well and let rest for 10 minutes. 8. Dip each sheet of rice paper in hot water for 30 seconds. Place a spoonful of the mixture onto the paper. Tuck in the ends and roll into a tight cylinder. Continue until all the mix is used up. 9. To fry: heat about 2 cups of oil in a frying pan. When it’s hot, a chopstick will sizzle when placed in oil. Put spring rolls into the oil, seam side down. Fry until golden brown, turning continually with a low fire.
Since I started blogging almost a year ago, I've discovered a whole world of food writers and talented home cooks. I stumbled across Melissa's blog, Alosha's Kitchen after she posted a rant about Cook's County (a sibling of Cooks Illustrated).
Melissa just started cooking a few years ago, and I've enjoyed reading about her adventures in the kitchen and how she's developed her own "voice" — learning how to take other people's recipes and make them her own.
And I've been drawing inspiration from her recipes. Most recently, she posted a recipe for mustard and tarragon rubbed chicken with braised leeks. Everything about this sounded delicious… but as I started to organize myself, I began imprinting my own style on the recipe.
First, I used pork instead of chicken. I decided to serve the bread crumbs on the side so they'd stay crispy. And I opted to cooked the leeks separately in butter so that I could better time the individual components. Since the final dish looked a little drab, color-wise, I fried the only thing that had color in my pantry: carrots. I cut them into threads, dusted them with corn starch and fried them with parsley leaves in canola oil [[ the colors are still a bit drab, but they had a wonderful textural contrast to the rest of the dish]]. Here's Melissa's recipe.
This is what I did: 1 pork tenderloin 1 tablespoon each: scallions, parsley tarragon 1 tablespoon olive oil salt and pepper 1 tablespoon canola oil 3 tablespoon butter 3 leeks, white and light green parts, washed and diced 1 tablespoon chopped garlic 1 cup panko bread crumbs 1 tablespoon chopped parsley 1 small shallot, peeled and finely diced 1 tablespoon fresh tarragon 2 teaspoons whole grain mustard 1 tablespoon honey 1 cup chicken stock
Marinate pork with herbs, spices and olive oil for at least one hour or over night.
Meanwhile, melt 1 tablespoon butter in a skillet. Add leeks. Cook over medium heat, stirring often, until the leeks are soft and start to brown. About 15 minutes.
In another skillet, melt remaining butter over medium high heat. Add garlic. When garlic starts to brown add bread crumbs. Continue cooking, stirring constantly, until bread crumbs begin to toast. Add parsley and cook for 3 minutes more. Season with salt and pepper.
Turn oven to 400F. Heat an oven-proof skillet over high heat. Remove pork from marinade and pat dry. Add oil to pan and then pork. Sear on both sides, about 5 minutes. Put in the oven and continue cooking for about 5-10 minutes depending on the degree of doneness you desire
Remove pork from pan and let rest. To the pork pan, drain off any excess fat and add shallots. Deglaze the pan with white wine and reduce by half. Add mustard, tarragon, honey and chicken stock and continue cooking until sauce is thick and reduced by half. Season to taste with salt, pepper and lemon juice. _________________ That week, I also craved a steak and cheese sub after reading this post. I ended up making burgers with roasted peppers instead. As simple and delicious as these were, it was so far out of my normal cooking habits (I rarely roast peppers) and I thank Melissa for inspiring another delicious dinner.
Here it is folks – the one recipe that will impress all your friends.
When I first ventured on my own as a private chef, business was a little slow. To make ends meet, I picked up a few events for other private chefs. On one occasion, after a long night of dinner parties, we all returned to the head chef’s home where he cooked us dinner. He tossed a few extra duck breasts in a bowl with soy sauce, vanilla, garlic and thyme and then roasted them. When the duck skin rendered enough fat, he added a few sliced apples to the pan. The vanilla flavor filled my mouth with its intoxicating aroma.
This marinade has become a staple in my repertoire and amplifies both duck and pork tenderloin. Sometimes, I add a sliver of Tahitian vanilla bean for an added explosion of flavor. Sweet potatoes taste like cotton candy when scooped up with a slice of the meat.
Put pork in a bowl with remaining ingredients. Let sit for at least one hour or overnight.
Turn oven to 400F. Heat an oven-proof skillet over high heat. Remove pork from marinade and pat dry. Add oil to pan and then pork. Sear on both sides, about 5 minutes. Put in the oven and continue cooking for about 5-10 minutes depending on the degree of doneness you desire.
Serve with sweet potato puree and green vegetables. If you're feeling saucy, you can also serve with a port reduction sauce.
has a recipe for wild boar stew that has all sorts of unique flavorings and techniques. The marinade and subsequent braising liquid calls for juniper (the pine berry that is also the prominent flavoring in gin), red wine, carrots celery and onions. Separately, she caramelizes sugar with garlic, and then adds red wine vinegar to create a sweet and sour flavor. When the pork is cooked, the meat is pulled out, and the braising liquid (along with all the mushy vegetables) are pureed to act as a thickener to the stew. She finishes the sauce with chocolate, prunes and almonds.
, hasn’t bought a vegetable in 15 years. Everything she cooks at home has been grown in her backyard in Suburban New York. I listened to her speak about the importance of land sustainability and the health of our planet at the Slow Money Conference this past September. She acknowledges that people have fewer choices when eating purely local. But the rewards are insurmountable.
