mac and cheese . . . and greens?

chard cuttings from overwintered plantsWhat to do with all the chard that has wintered over in your greenhouse or cold frame, or more temperate winter climates? Clip the freshest leaves, or anything you are willing to eat (all of it in my case), and try this macaroni and cheese recipe for vegetable lovers. Yes, keep reading; there is plenty of cheese, as my Midwestern roots require. (adapted from Mollie Katzen’s Moosewood Cookbook)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Have a casserole dish ready (either round, for a deeper dish, or 9″ x 13″ for thinner presentation).

Cook 1/2 lb. dry pasta and drain (I use multi-color corkscrews because I like their attitude).  Chop: 2 cups onion, 1 cup cabbage and 2 good handfuls of chard (if you have spinach to work through, go right ahead). Mince 3 cloves garlic. Heat a large skillet and add 3 Tbs olive oil. When hot, saute onions. Add cabbage after several minutes, garlic, 1 teaspoon salt, and 1 teaspoon caraway seeds. Cook over medium-high until cabbage is just tender (or less if you want crunch). Stir in the I ran out of cheese - make sure you have enough on hand!chard, and remove from heat. Add to the pasta.

Stir in: 1/2 cup milk (or buttermilk or cream); 1/2 cup yogurt; 1 to 2 cups cottage cheese, 1 teaspoon dill seed or frond, black pepper to taste and 1 cup packed grated cheddar cheese. Taste to adjust seasonings (yes! do this, nothing in this will hurt you). Put in baking dish of preference, sprinkle with an additional cup of packed grated cheddar cheese and a few sunflower seeds. Bake uncovered for 20 to 30 minutes, until heated through.

Note: I topped this with some crumbled bacon I had left over from breakfast. Yum.

Recipe for anemia

hamburger and buckie - where's the beef?I lay astonishingly vanquished, a day after consuming my first meal treatment for anemia, enchanted with the pleasures of cooking under the direction of Escoffier. What better way to play the hand of a rainy day and anemic diagnosis? No sooner had the blood test results returned with potential blood transfusion numbers, than I began the hunt for ingredients and recipes. Such an ailment as anemia should be enjoyed, and I hereby respectfully submit the notion that not only should we choose sustainably produced meat, we should prepare it with our hearts set on pleasureful flavor. Pumping iron into my blood is not solely a quick cutting of greens from the garden, served alongside grilled venison from the chest freezer. Nor is it the option of slugging back supplements before, during and after my meals, pill-popping like a Tic-Tac addict.

Anemia has delightfully thrown me into another realm of gastronomy: my baby steps with haute cuisine. It’s like French Vogue for chefs, except you’ll find more affordable items on the ingredients list than those draped across the pages of such a fashion magazine. Outside drizzle obliterating leaf-raking from my chores list, I selected a five-pound tomb from the sagging cookbook shelves, spinning the pages like a globe trotter determining his next destination. My months-ago randomly purchased inspiration: two pounds of oxtail sitting clumped frozen and neglected at the chest freezer’s bottom depths. Luigi Carnacina and his “Great Italian Cooking” led the way to enlightenment with a selection of four recipes.

How to put this . . . cooking Carnacina (who learned from Escoffier), turned into a ‘make-your-own-adventure’ at ingredient number six: Brown Stock. Hereby instructed to refer to recipe No. 4 in his book, I flipped half the book over in search of this key element. Short about five different pices of meat, and anticipating an addition of five hours to my meal preparation, I took swift stock of my rainy day ambitions. So this is what it takes? No time like the present to solve another of life’s great mysteries. If he could do it, and has written it for me to follow, it must be some insanely tasty dish. Car keys and I launched into the chilly mist.

The grocery store pulsed with Halloween night sugar supplies. Shopper’s carts overflowed with colors and boxes unbeknownst to any honest food. I darted through the cleaning supplies aisle and rapped at the meat counter’s set of swinging doors. Then I popped my head in, just in time to see a three-inch diameter bone getting cut and wrapped. Finding an amiable white frock, I gave him my list and asked for some of the huge bones with marrow. Together we hunted down some shin meat (bone and meat, but not veal, as I wanted to watch cost), soup beef (shank, cubed), raw ham, pork rind, and spicy pork sausages. Discussing my beginning of the brown stock, before adding beef piecespreliminary goal of stock and secondary goal of an oxtail dish, he pronounced it sounded like a fine meal. I suppose an invitation should have been forthcoming from me. How odd that such an extension of shared culinary pleasure no longer naturally comes to one in these times?

We’d better start chopping while you are still reading. What follows produced an exquisite meal, forever changing my approach to cooking meat. Three cheers for little Buckie and Hamburger, currently eating their way through our pasture. May they one day encounter such a fine fate.

Start with a Brown Stock. You’ll need 1/2 pound cracked soup bones; 1 lb. veal shin (bone and meat, I used regular beef!); 1 lb. lean soup beef (shank or shin) in 2-inch cubes; 1 Tbs butter or rendered beef fat; 8 ounces lean raw ham, diced; 2 ounces pork rind, in one piece; 1 medium carrot, diced; 1 stalk celery with leaves, chopped; 1 clove; 1 bay leaf; 1 clove garlic; 4 sprigs parsley; 2 sprigs thyme; 1 tsp salt; 8 cups water.

soup beef cubed, bone with marrow, beef shin with bone, left to rightBrown the bones, veal shin, and beef cubes for 15 minutes in a 450 degree oven. Melt the butter in a large, heavy pot over medium heat and add the ham, pork rind, carrot, celery, and onion. Arrange the meat and bones on top, add 1/2 cup of the water, and cook until the water has evaporated. Remove the rind. Add remainder of water, salt, clove, bay leaf, garlic, parsley and thyme. Brind to a rapid boil, reduce heat and simmer 4 to 5 hours, skimming scum from top and replenishing water if needed. Remove from flame and strain immediately through hair sieve or cheesecloth-lined colander. Chill, and remove fat before using. Makes about 1. 5 quarts. For a meat glaze, reduce this even further until it becomes syrupy.

You’ll also need a quantity of kneaded butter, which is slightly softened butter mixed with an equal amount of flour. I used 4 Tbs butter, somewhat melted, and 4 Tbs flour, and just mushed them together in a small saucepan. Set this aside.

You’ll also need some enhanced tomato sauce. Heat 2 Tbs olive oil in a saucepan. Add 1/2 a chopped onion, 4 Tbs ham, chilled stock, with separated fat on topchopped, and brown them over fairly high heat for 5 to 6 minutes. Add 1 Tbs flour and mix well. Turn the heat down to medium and add 2 lbs fresh tomatoes (or 1 16 oz. can Italian-style plum tomatoes, drained). Season with 1 tsp salt, 1/4 tsp pepper, 1 tsp sugar, 1 sprig thyme and a bay leaf. Cook 45 minutes, stirring occassionally. You can strain it if you like.(Clearly this process is easier if you have some seasoned tomato sauce frozen or canned and awaiting selection from your pantry!)

Let’s get to that tail. For Oxtail Italiana, you’ll need: 4 lbs cut-up oxtail; 2 carrots, sliced; 2 onions, sliced; 1 stalk celery, sliced; 3 sprigs parsley; 2 sprigs thyme; 1 bay leaf; 3 cups Brown Stock; 3 cups dry white wine (I used 1 cup of Vermouth instead); salt and pepper; 3 Tbs butter; 1 clove garlic, crushed; 1/2 pound mushrooms, sliced; 4 Tbs kneaded butter; 1 cup Tomato sauce; 3 sweet Italian sausages, sauteed for about 15 minutes and sliced.

Whew! Make yourself a cocktail while you’re at it. This is a thing of beauty. Put the pieces of oxtail in a large, heavy pot with the sliced vegetables and the herbs. Add the stock and wine and sufficient water to barely cover the pieces of oxtail. Season lightly with salt and pepper, bring to a boil, cover the pot and simmer over very low heat for 3 to 4 hours, or until the oxtail meat is very tender and will separate easily from the bones. While the oxtail is simmering, melt the butter in a frying pan over medium heat, oxtail pieces and veggies, awaiting drenching in beautiful brown stockadd the garlic, cook for 1 minutes, add the mushrooms, and saute gently for about 8 minutes; remove from the heat and reserve. When the oxtail is fully cooked, remove the pieces from the pot. Strain the cooking liquid through a fine sieve, return it to the pot (should be about 4 cups; reduce over high heat to this quantity, if necessary), bring to a boil, blend in the kneaded butter with a whisk, add the tomato sauce, and simmer for 10 minutes. Correct the seasoning and then add the oxtail pieces, mushrooms, and sausage. Simmer for 5 minutes and then turn the contents of the pot out into a deep hot serving dish. Serves 6.

I served this with some gratineed celery, recipe No. 1659 in Carnacina’s book. We’ll save that for another time . . . but do note that this dish is best served with biscuits or bread to mop up the amazing sauce.

One-pot chicken, II

the hen considers the panFarmyard beauty woven into farmhouse decor has recently inspired me in artistic and culinary pursuits. A wandering yet mapquest-guided drive to Whimsical Farms led me into the inspirational world of Trebs. Noticing her collection of bird wings nestled amongst gorgeous antique china sets, I returned to my own laying ladies, my eye discerningly focused on plummage as object. As it turns out, several have not been laying for many months . . . despite diet alteration, heat cycles and general pampering.

Like the tightening of belts economy-wide, such a situation calls for culling (one of those farm words that has passed from frequent usage into feeling a bit cruel). Our kitchen walls host their own pop-art version of farmlife – feathers from an infamous fox kill of chickens earlier this year fan out from former picture holes left unplugged. Where will I put my own Araucana wing? Perhaps atop the framed lion painting, currently bedecked with a black snake skin tinsel. Many is the guest who actually enjoys this. Those who do not clearly do not come for lunch ever again, of their own accord.

In case you find an extra chicken on hand, as I plan to, give this one-pot recipe a go. Inspired by L.L. Bean’s Game and Fish Cookbook, as usual I have traded ingredients, lacking theirs. You’ll need: 3 sprigs each of fresh rosemary, savory and thyme (or 1 1/2 tsp dried, total of all 3); 1 chicken (moderate, not jumbo. Or duck!); sale and freshly ground black pepper; 4 Tbs butter; 2 small potatoes, chopped; 2 medium white onions, chopped; 3 Tbs sugar (I used Jaggery); 1/4 cup cognac (book suggested bourbon); 3/4 cup duck or chicken stock.

Rub the inside and outside of the bird with salt and pepper. In a flameproof casserole, just large enough to accommodate the chicken and veggies, melt the butter over medium heat. Add the chicken and brown on all sides (this is somewhat easier when the lovely stock, with rosemary savory and thyme as main flavor chicken is quartered). Add potatoes and onions and brown them, sprinkling the sugar over and turning until glazed. Pour the alcohol over the chicken and set it aflame, basting the bird (I used a match, go for the flame-via-burner flare if you have the skills).

Add the stock and puts the herbs over everything. Bring to a boil, then cover and place in a 325 degree oven for 20 minutes. Uncover, baste and raise the heat to 375 for another 10 minutes. Baste a couple times during this period. When done, remove the chicken and place on plates or serving platter. Scoop the veggies around it. Simmer down the pan juices until almost syrupy and pour over the bird.

Bon apetit!  Please note that the usage of adequate fresh herbs, and a homemade chicken stock really makes this dish exquisite. See further postings about making stock, having the patience to do so, and why it’s worth it.

it’s really that good for you

potato dreamDigging out the potatoes and sweet potatoes last week led to cooking adventures in quest of something different. With inspiration from Shepherd’s pie and creamy, whipped potatoes desired everywhere, Michael concocted our newest pan-o-potats (and sweet potatoes). The following really is that good for you, when imbibed in moderation. Ah, that famous rule for eating.

STEP1

You’ll need: 1 medium sweet potato and 2 medium potatoes (not the football sized things on grocery store shelves) – cubed and boiled in salted water until soft (leave skins on); 3 Tbs butter (Jersey cow is best); 3 Tbs thick yogurt or sour cream; 1 cup arugula chopped fine; 1 cup shredded cheese; 1/2 cup milk (we used raw sheep). Note – use leftover potato water to cook with (soup base, biscuit liquid, etc.)

Beat all of the above slowly in a KitchenAid blender or with potato mashing equipment to mix and melt everything. Then beat Calhoun asks star to playfaster, whipping this concoction.

STEP2 – You’ll need 1 Tbs mustard seeds, 1/2 Tbs ground pepper, 2 Tbs olive oil, 1/2 a yellow onion chopped, 1/2 c. green onion stems, 1/2 cup soppresatta chopped (or bacon, other pork cut), salt.

Heat a heavy skillet (oven worthy!) till it smokes. Add mustard seeds and pepper, turn heat down a bit, and roast. You’ll probably need a spatter screen to help contain the buggers in the pan. After a couple minutes, add the olive oil, yellow and green onions and soppresatta. Saute for 5 minutes, or longer depending on how soft you like your onions. Salt the mix during this time. Then, spoon potato mixture on top of onion/pork mix, spreading evenly. Broil for a minute or a bit longer, so that the peaks of the potatoes get golden.

We enjoyed this with a crisp salad of more arugula with some chopped fall apples, making us feel quite healthy in addition to the potato contentment. A glass of good red wine completed the atmosphere.

sthuffering sthuccotash

venison and succotashIt has been an eve of what if’s . . . like what if people still exclaimed ’suffering succotash!’ Ah yes, the good old days. We’ve all enjoyed them, and fall’s approach reminds the emotions of splendor past. As the sun drops lower in the sky, warm hues slant across earlier afternoon lawns and the forests fill with red-orange chill, many are the nostalgias that hang ripe from the last harvest vine.

I do not claim any deep-rooted fondness for lima beans. Yet a simple pairing of slightly cooked sweet corn kernels, new potatoes and those large limas suddenly welcomed fall by bridging the bright flavors of summer into the earthier vegetables ready to feed us. Accompanied by very lightly grilled venison, a meadow radiated across my vision; red, brown, gold and fading green joined in setting the course for months to come.

To make this, you’ll need an ear of fresh sweet corn, a couple handfuls of lima beans (probably half the beans from pods out of one farmers market basket), a handful of new potatoes (baby baby sized!), salt, pepper, butter. Boil the potatoes until JUST soft, add the lima beans, continue boiling another 3 minutes. Add the sweet corn kernels (cut off the cob), and cook 1 more minute. Drain (reserve the liquid for baking), place vegetables in a bowl, and dress with remaining ingredients. Throw in some fresh thyme leaves (2 tsp) for additional flavor.

relative chill

an echinacea flower with yet another happy fall pollinator gathering sustenanceTemperatures dip gracefully into the 60s, lower still at night, and warm food once again beckons. Yet unwilling to concoct stews or other hefty plates, I am inspired by a simple Italian style Ragu; it juxtaposes the fresh, bright tastes of items off the garden vines and stems alongside a slowly heated, heartier base. Despite using my favorite pas de deux, butter and pork, this dish manages to dance between lustily flavorful and light to digest.

Perfect for a day such as this, rainy and preliminarily fall chilly, I recommend cooking this when you can pass in and out of the kitchen for an hour (or two!) prior to eating; that might sound demanding – you can also prepare this in a half hour, but the flavors develop somewhat differently with a longer simmer.

me with fennel bulbYou’ll need: 4 Tbs butter; 1 small onion, chopped; one carrot, chopped, 1/2 bulb fennel, chopped (or celery), a tsp. of fennel seeds; 2-oz. piece of pancetta (I also use several strips bacon and any other cuts of pork left over from other dinners); 1/2 cup dry white wine; 1 cup tomato puree (optional); salt and pepper; 3/4 cup milk; several dashes of heavy cream; parmigiano-reggiano. Also – fresh pasta or dried pasta cooked (a tagliatelle style is good).

To cook, put the pancetta or other pork cuts into a heavy-bottomed, medium-sized pot, over medium heat. Cook, stirring occasionally, until fat has rendered, about 10 minutes. Add the onion, carrots, fennel (or celery) and fennel seeds and cook, stirring frequently (I usually swing by every 5 to 10 min., doing necessary phone calls, or other household chores in-between) until soft and somewhat browned, about 15 minutes. You can also leave this to simmer for up to an hour.

Add the white wine and simmer until evaporated, roughly 5 minutes. Add the tomato puree if desired (sometimes I leave this out, preferring the sauce over pasta with just the flavors of veggies and pork). Stir well to combine, adding water if you desire; bring to simmer. Season with salt and pepper, then add half the milk and simmer. Add rest of milk after a couple minutes, continue simmering until sauce is thickened. This can take from 1/2 hour to an hour – just depends on how thick you want it. Stir in the cream and serve over your pasta of choice – again, bite size pieces are good versus long strands. Top with Parmigiano-reggiano.

Note: Sometimes I leave out both the tomato puree and milk, waiting just until vegetables are nicely soft and pork flavor fully developed. Then, I toss with about 1/4 cup of cream and the parmigiano over pasta, which makes for a lighter fare. Add a bit of fresh chopped basil atop each serving for a brilliant note of your fall garden.

This recipe is our take on several versions published in Saveur, No. 110.

pink nectar

an early spring beeHow to use a watermelon:

1 – As fake road carnage. This is most popular on rural roads connecting Amish farms with “English”- inhabited areas. Simply drive (or buggy) to a lonely road, preferably an intersection; lift watermelon above head and let fall, or throw from vehicle with force, onto road. Think about the thrill of scaring someone and forget the sweet fruit deliciousness you just wasted.

2 – As insight into a hog’s life. This is for those melons so good you want to scrape out every last sugary cell. Simply cut a slice and proceed to eat with great relish and some speed. Keep going until your nose rubs over the edge, juice runs down your mouth and neck, and persons in your company tilt watermelons getting 'juiced' - nectar of the godstheir confused expressions back and away in disgust. Think about how delicious the rest of the melon will be as your companions return to their socially accepted bar-b-que chicken pieces.

3 – As a nectar of the gods’. Sometimes you need to take it to another level. Fly away from your earthbound existence and into the provocative realm of sensorial bliss with watermelon nectar. Slice your fruit, and cut 2-inch chunks from each rind, directly into a blender. As the machine whirs, allow yourself to buzz into bee life, the constant self-transport induced hum that carries you to each flower’s sweetspot. Drink of the nectar in succulent silence, filling your belly til glassy-eyed rapture. Continue your day more enlightened than yogic calm. (Note: water is permissible, many times necessary to achieve this nectar. You choose the level of sweet experience.)

seeing red

michael snags some bites prior to dinner. he is sampling chicken cooked in apple cidar vinegarWith this recipe, I take ownership of my heritage: I am Newcomer. Yes, I have fallen for tomatoes. Just the latest in a long list of tastes acquired, ahem, rather late in life. Tomatoes are my new drug of choice. Succulent, bursting, each lunch hour provides my usually fertile food imagination with only one desire: tomato, sliced on fresh toasted bread, a smear of pesto, and a quick trip under the broiler with a bit of cheese molten on top.

Should one require variation during this season of Lycopersicons, I recommend this quick assembling:

Cut an older loaf of bread into cubed breadcrumbs (a size you’d manage to put into your mouth, alongside a bit of tomato – more importantly, the size a polite guest could manage to cram in). Spread a couple of cups of these the last word on summer salad and tomatoescubes into a baking dish, drizzle with olive oil, dash with salt, pepper, fresh thyme, oregano, savory, basil (use a good 1/3 cup of fresh garden herb selection). Toss, and roast at 425 degrees in your oven until golden ~ roughly 10 to 15 minutes. Remove from the oven and toss in a 1/2 cup chopped red onion, 1 1/2 cups chopped tomato, and 1/2 cup of cubed mozzarella (or another cheese you fancy).

This is absolutely the best when eaten straight away, so make an amount you and friends/family can finish.

salty tart on the tongue

getting everything laid outI came to pickles late in life, needing experience with bitterness before I could develop desire. Sweet foods? No problem. That must be a natural for most of us. I never believe it when people say they don’t like sweet stuff. Super sweet frosting? Yeah, I understand. But how could you not love the natural sweet of fresh berries or best of all, a peach?

Back to pickles, those reincarnations of the abundant cucurbit plants. I am under the impression of having planted a mini Gherkin variety put out by Happy Cat Organics. They’ve turned out to be anything but miniature due in part to my every-other day harvest schedule and abundant rain. Further, the rampant vine syndrome of Lynea’s Gardens. It was a typical case of mistaken identity; I planted what I thought to be three cucumber plants in one area . . . two of those plants have matured into honeydew melon-wheel barrow of harvestbearing vines.

Moving on. Neighbors have graciously accepted some cucumber gifts, resisting their urges to throw excess zucchini at my windows I am sure. And I have set the gas range a-roaring with boiling water baths and vinegar/water concoctions to transform summer’s abundance into food we’ll eat during winter. Here is a pickling recipe with a couple options, earnestly passed along by a new acquaintance eager to share her mother’s wisdom. I just may receive another on-farm visit from this gal, so eager is she to get her own two hands back into such time-honored rituals.

You’ll need three clean large mouth 1-qt. Ball, Mason or Kerr Jars with new lids, and as many cucumbers (cleaned and sliced) as will fit in them. Also: 2 1/2 cups Heinz Apple Cider Vinegar (5% acidity) and 2 1/2 cups water; 12 cloves garlic (peeled), 1/4 cup pickling salt; lots of fresh dill or your own concoction of pickling spices.

notice my poor filling of the first attemptsIn a very large soup pot, bring water to a boil (enough so that placing the 3 Jars in this water covers them by a 1/2 inch). Using sturdy tongs, dip the Jars into the boiling water to sterilize. Do the same with the lids. Then, in 3-quart saucepan, combine water, vinegar, garlic cloves, and pickling salt. Bring to a boil. Now divide those garlic pieces between the Jars, and add your pickling spices of choice and/or dill. Slide in the cucumber slices (or whole, tiny, cukes). Take the boiling vinegar/water and pour it over the contents of the three Jars, filling each to within a 1/2 inch of the top of the glass. Slide a slim utensil down into the Jars to help release air bubbles. Next, place the lids on the Jars firmly, screw down several times. Place the Jars into the boiling water bath and process for 15 minutes. After removing them, allow to sit, and follow-up check to see that the lids popped ‘down’.

I also tried this recipe using white vinegar and green beans. I’ll write of the result when I pop open the jars in months to come. I am curious to see if they turn out mushy (as some other blogs have noted). Might have to do more ’sweet’ pickle recipes despite limited refrigerator space they require.

every last drop

beet and carrot tops get ready to reduce into a stockI know you all love to throw extra food stuffs into the compost bin, but on occasion consider making stock from leftover veggie parts. Didn’t eat your beet greens? Have a sack of carrot tops? Stray sweat pea or green bean? Extra herbs? Throw it all in a pot, add water to cover, and let it simmer for an hour or so.

Such concoctions invariably taste a bit different each time, but nevertheless help you extract every last nutrient from the luscious bounty of summer. Stocks freeze well, for example in sturdy plastic containers. Maximize your veggie bits and pieces now and you’ll have delicious nutritious stocks for the entire year.

Use stock when you cook grains, prepare a soup, make a sauce, etc.