Queens Chronicle IV

I have been quietly slaving away at three jobs lately, oh the pity. But it's true, even D has voiced complaints-- many of which have hidden meaning like, "but there's nothing to eat, another meeting?!"

Well, here is the fruition of some of those meetings... Another piece in the Queens Chronicle.

If you live in Queens head to your local supermarket (or street corner news box) and pick up a free copy of the Queens Chronicle (Western Queens edition). The piece isone of the feature pieces, about CSAs (Community Supported Agriculture) and how great they are.

Alternatively, follow this link:

Queens Chronicle "Planning Ahead for Spring".

Also, if you live in Queens (especially Astoria) and a crazy person comes up to you and says, "Hi, are you interested in organic food?" It might be me. Take my brochure, I'm not crazy. If you read this blog you probably want the good food I'm selling anyway-- and sign up for the new Astoria CSA (www.astoriacsa.com)! If you don't know how to cook, we'll hold cooking classes. If you don't want a friend, I don't need to be one. But I'll still like you.



Enjoy.

Zucchini Pancakes

I can remember the moist zucchini-walnut bread my mother used to make when I was growing up. That, coupled with her infamous carrot bread, were worthy treats in the house and always much appreciated. In my years away from home I craved the breads (mind you, not cakes) and often called, requesting a loaf to be air-mailed to me without haste. Lucky for me, my mother usually obliged.

These days she has misplaced the treasured zucchini bread recipe. Sure it came from the depths of Joy of Cooking, we have failed to find the true source of the recipe; unable to replicate its sweet and wholesome moistness.

I bought these zucchinis craving that loved bread. Knowing D has a (vocal) aversion to squash—though once confronted with it will often happily eat it—I was sure I would be dining on these fruits alone. (And yes, zucchinis are in fact, a fruit.)

Knowing the bread eluded me, I began preparing these zucchinis much the same way my mother would have: by grating them into a tall pile. I continued on the fly: Throwing in a few more ingredients and sticking these on a hot buttered skillet. These might just be the next best thing—even better, D played a vanishing act finishing his in no time flat-- allowing me to dine with company.

Though I still crave that bread, I can happily buy zucchinis for the remainder of its soon-to-be-over season. We enjoyed these cakes so much, I’m thinking of attempting them in the bucket garden next year (even better, we would then have fresh squash flowers for frying!)

Oh, and that menacing darkness that hovers closely behind the zucchini cakes in this picture? Some leftover Louisiana-style beans made with a leftover ham shoulder—the combination was delicious! These pancakes are great for breakfast with a poached egg or as a dinner with beans (as pictured here). They can be added to a sandwich (a sort of veggie burger), had with a sour cream based dipping sauce, or simply snacked on the go. They are also quick and easy to make.

ZUCCHINI PANCAKES
Makes about 12 4-inch pancakes. Active time= about 30 minutes.
* 2 large zucchinis
* 2 eggs
* 2 teaspoons cumin
* 2 dashes Worcestershire sauce
* ¼ cup Parmesan cheese, grated
* 1 teaspoon chili pepper
* 2 dashes Tabasco sauce
* 1 teaspoon salt
* fresh ground pepper to taste
* 1 tablespoon butter or olive oil

1) Grate zucchinis. Grab up a small handful of grated zucchini and wring out the excess water over the sink. Set drained zucchini in a medium bowl, set aside. Continue until all zucchini is drained then dab with a paper towel to get remaining moisture out.
2) Add eggs, cumin, Worcestershire sauce, Parmesan, chili pepper, Tabasco sauce, salt and pepper to the bowl.
3) Use hands to incorporate all ingredients evenly.
4) Place butter on a medium sauté pan over medium-high heat. Once pan and butter are hot (butter will subside its bubbling and smell nutty), place small even handfuls of the zucchini mixture around the pan, use a spatula to gently press the pancakes flat. Allow to cook about 5 minutes each side, until golden brown. Serve warm, topped with fresh grated Parmesan.

Hop on over to Sweetnick's for ARF Tuesday!

Tags: zucchini pancakes, zucchini, squash, ARF.

Rainbow Salad

*Just Braise has moved. Please visit me at www.justbraise.com!*

As the nights begin to cool and we turn the first corner into the fall season, it is best to take advantage of the freshness still available. Late season produce are some of my favorites; full of the warm juices of summer. They include certain berries, corn, peaches, beets and nectarines (amongst others). Keep to the seasons and you are guaranteed some of the best tasting produce.

When I started going hog wild for the peaches at my local fruit stand, D and I were overwhelmed (but they smell so good!)—there are only so many that can be sliced and frozen for mid-winter smoothie binges! Pretty soon, every time I made a dish, I just tossed a few peaches onto the mix. D thought me crazed at first, tainting his otherwise prized pork and sandwiches, but pretty soon, the boy caught on.

One morning as we were rushing out the door I pulled out anything and everything fresh from the fridge. It ended with a very colorful salad that appeared to taste as good as it looked. A few hours later I received emails from D that his officemates wouldn’t allow him to get a bite in—they were all admiring the colors! While we ate separately, we came together later commenting on the perfect harmony that the salad offered. No longer questioning my peach plundering, D and I made this salad again and again—a fast and fresh summer pick-me-up that can be altered in many ways, remaining a delicious feast for belly and eyes.

The colors on this salad are stunning--- an ideal side for a summer picnic or BBQ. So go ahead and stock up on peaches. Put a few aside for the winter, and indulge in this salad while peaches are at their best.

RAINBOW SALAD w/ BASIL VINAIGRETTE
Serving Size= 2 persons. Active time= 10 minutes.
* 2 ripe peaches, each sliced into 8 wedges
* 4 radish, sliced
* 1 avocado, cubed
* 1 yellow bell pepper, sliced thin
* 1 small cucumber, cubed
* 1 small handful green beans, blanched and halved
* 1 cup lightly packed fresh basil
* ¼ cup Tarragon vinegar
* juice of 1 lime
* salt/ pepper to taste

1) In a medium bowl, gently toss cut fruit and vegetables: peach, radish, avocado, bell pepper and beans.
2) In a food processor or blender, combine basil, vinegar and lime juice. Blend until basil is finely chopped and well incorporated. Season to taste with salt and pepper and pour over salad.
NOTE: Other tasty additions to this salad include celery, mango (in lieu of peach), corn, new potatoes, or anything else you enjoy.

Lebanese Potatoes

I was never too fond of potato salad growing up; the same goes for coleslaw and most macaroni salads. Often heavy with mayonnaise, I felt true flavors were hidden under a thick suffocating whiteness. I grew tired of finding a good, let alone perfect, potato salad, and my life of avoiding the tot began.

People accused me of being anti-carbohydrate. It simply is not so! I would proclaim. I love baked potatoes, bread, and most every carbohydrate there is. Then there was a jab that I was a food snob. Okay, maybe a bit. But it is when the wet white blanket covers my pure fare that I cringe and must walk away, head bowed low in a quiet, mournful state—that pastiness just sticks to my mouth too readily.

Being a frequenter of BBQs and returns to the Midwest does not help matters. Some sort of mayonnaise-based salad is always happy to make an appearance. It is not that I cannot give new foods a try, but I follow a mantra that the lesser the mayo the better.

One day, my good friend A showed me the light.

I sat at her aunt’s home for a wholesome Lebanese-American Thanksgiving. It was complete with hummus, flat bread, ful, turkey and a bowl of Lebanese potatoes. For once, I saw a potato salad where, surprise upon surprises, the potato shown through. One bite, and I pocketed this recipe with delight.

It is the lightness of the salad and ease of preparation that draws me back to this dish again and again. I have made it for others with the same promising accolades; it is simple and delicious. Below I have spruced it up by adding green peas. The brightness of these peas gave the red potatoes a sensational contrast. For those who are have fought off one too many mayonnaise dripping salads, now is your chance to bring the potato back to flavor.

LEBANESE POTATOES
Serving Size= 6-8 persons. Active time= 10 minutes. Inactive time= 2 hours.
* 8-10 small red new potatoes, washed and cut in half
* 1 bunch parsley, washed and chopped
* juice of 1-½ lemons
* 1 cup peas, lightly cooked (optional; not traditional, but good)
* 1 bunch scallions, chopped whites only
* 2 cloves garlic, crushed
* 4 Tbl olive oil
* salt/ pepper to taste

1) In a medium saucepan, bring 4 cups of salted water to a boil. Add potatoes and cook until tender, about 20 minutes. Run cold water over to stop cooking and begin cool down.
2) In a medium sauté pan, flash-cook the peas with a small amount of water, about 4 minutes until peas turn dark green.
3) Place all ingredients into a large bowl. Mix well and refrigerate until cool, about 1-½ hours.

Garden Pasta

My first personal (known) encounter with Swiss chard was the other year. While I am sure I have dined on it in restaurants, I had never sought to purchase the funky colored vegetable before. While at the grocery, the vegetable caught my eye and I scooped it into my basket. As D often does when he notices I am plucking items for their unique beauty rather than possible utility he queried what we could make with it. “I don’t know, but we’ll think of something.”

We turned “something” into Braised Swiss Chard wrapped in Sole. Swiss chard’s bitter sweetness won us over and D rarely questioned my random fruit and vegetable acquisitions again.

Over the months the rainbow vegetable remained on my mind and I eventually bought seeds for planting them when the bucket garden was a mere dream. They would soon sprout into their glory and remain a site as the stalks matured.

One day, impatient for my own chard to mature, I hit up the vegetable market for a bunch. They became a perfect accent to a delicious cold summer soup.

Finally the glory of my rainbow swiss chard in the buckets was breathtaking. Glowing yellows, radiant reds and electric pinks made the calling to me. I plucked them from their buckets and presented them to D. What to make when the temperature is too hot to handle the kitchen? Some quick and easy pasta, requiring minimal cooking.

As residents of Queens suffered through blackouts in the high temperatures D and I considered ourselves fortunate with our minimized power—at least we still had the refrigerator (and if that failed a few buckets of bounty outside). We ran to the grocery to pick up fresh pasta. Requiring a mere 2 minute boiling time, it would serve as an ideal backdrop to a cold dish.

Whipping up a large batch of pasta, D and I had a fresh meal to last us through the week; no stovetops required.

GARDEN PASTAspan>
Serving Size= 6-8 persons. Active time= 10 minutes.
* 2 pounds fresh spinach pasta
* 1 bunch rainbow swiss chard, loosely chopped
* 1- 15 ounce can garbanzo beans (chick peas), washed and drained
* 1 red bell pepper, sliced into ¼-inch strips
* 1 medium Spanish onion, chopped
* 3 large garlic cloves, crushed
* ½ cup fresh firm ricotta cheese, crumbled
* ½ cup kalamata olives
* 2 Tbl olive oil

1) In a sauce pot on medium-high heat, bring salted water to a boil. Add pasta, cover and cook for 2 minutes. Remove from heat, wash and drain. Set aside in a large bowl.
2) In a large skillet on medium heat, warm 2 Tbl olive oil. Add pepper, onion, garlic and cook until aroma is loosened (about 3 minutes). Add swiss chard, cover and cook until leaves wilt (4-6 minutes).
3) Add swiss chard, peppers, onions, garlic, garbanzo beans, ricotta and olives to pasta. Serve warm or cold.

Below is Kitty and her beloved squirrel toy. We train her to search and destroy these little critters that attack my garden—if only she were allowed outside to put her training work. The glazed look in her eye? We get her good and high so she can forget her killer instinct (the squirrel is full of catnip). Check out this weekend’s cat antic WCB over at Eat Stuff.

(Re-Posted) Lebanon's Baba Ganoush

Below is a post I stuck up back in November 2005. It was one of my first posts. Two years ago, about this time, I went with a friend to Lebanon. Not to turn this into a political blog space or anything, but the events of the past two weeks have been on my mind (about 8 years ago I was in Israel and have a similar fondness for the country and people, Lebanon is just a little closer to memory now).

I guess because this has all been on my mind I made some baba ganoush tonight. It is a recipe a half-Lebanonese friend gave to me. This, along with her hummus, Lebanonese potatoes and Fol I make often. Maybe more will be made in the coming days...

Although I would like to make a few changes/ additions here and there, I think it's best to keep it unaltered. This is the Lebanon I remember two years ago. It will not be the same. Here is the original post:
--------------------------------------------------
November 2005

As the weather turns toward the worst, and gray days become a common thread, I cannot help but linger on the past, warm and fresh.

In the 1940's, France withdrew from Lebanon. To this day, it is in a summersault between old and new world-- reinventing and revamping its character. Walking down the streets, signs still read in French and Arabic (or Arabic and English). Fruit stands on every corner press fresh juice to order, and pistachio pastries laced with honey waft towards the nose. Out of the city, vineyards can be found on hillsides that neighbor crosses mounted high on a village church. It is a country that still understands hospitality, where no meeting between friends is able to last under two hours, and where you will always be offered a bottomless cup of fresh Arabic coffee, laden with cardamom.

Between 1975-1991, civil war tore through Beirut and its surrounds. From above, the city's white stone buildings are iridescent in the sun and the mountains roll away reflecting the cerulean Mediterranean. Salt is ripe in the air and mingles with trees as lizards dash through legs of a traveler to the safety of a forgotten bullet hole in a nearby structure. Roam the streets and notice wires crisscross overhead in a forgotten and haphazard desperation of gaining electricity during the war-- still in-use. Or suddenly come upon a blocked-off road, where the ground is yet to be re-stabilized. Inside bombed-out-building-carcasses, families create wall-less homes on top floors that overlook city lights. The new hottest club is constructed beneath sacred ground, and luxury high-rise buildings blossom around Roman and Phoenician ruins; barely visible and utter surprises to stumble upon amongst the ever –present cleansing and rebuilding. This is the crazy struggle between tradition and modernity.

The Muslim call for prayer rings out. It is a subtle undulation that flows off the salt air notifying the beach bums to rotate their tanning. Women walk the streets fully veiled or deeply bronzed in mini-skirts flaunting the latest fashions. Saudi oil heirs on vacation take to the corniche with their wives to find groups of men smoking nargeela, (Lebanese sheesha or flavored tobacco) lounging in home-brought plastic chairs while others fish in the sea where boys swim. Along this walk, the smell of cardamom is thick with Arabic coffee vendors hocking their product amidst others that grill and sell corn.

Food is fresh and fabulous. From cheeses, olives and fresh flat breads at breakfast, to the sweet fruits that complete every meal: fresh figs, dates, melons and mangoes. You dine on what is in season—not what is an able import. Flavors are intensified by this freshness of seasonality. The weather is perfect-- not too dry, and the peach-hued sunsets over the sea make up for any humidity that may linger.

Travel beyond the beach bum days and clubbing nights of Beirut. Hire a private driver and take the road to Balbaak and Ksara in the east, near Syria (easily done in one day). Some of the oldest ruins are found at Balbaak with an ancient population that continued to build upon what was already there, allowing centuries upon centuries of ruins almost indecipherable from the previous. In Ksara, cooling caves under a mountain vineyard, are host to wine tastings.

South near Saida, a soap factory is hidden in the old souq, where soap is still made “the ancient way”-- with boiled olive oil and ash. The juices and kebabs in the souq are the freshest I have tasted (fresh grapes taste like rose water, we are told “it’s the sea you taste”)—some of the best shwarma can be found here too. Continuing south, there are generations-old glass blowing studios on the way to the beaches and ruins of Tyre (a port town a stone’s throw from the Israeli border). This city, once a major trade route between Israel and Egypt, as well as the rest of the Mediterranean, has since been left in disrepair from civil war days, retaining its beauty.

North in Byblos we find where the written word began and paper spread throughout the world. Mountain peaks overtake the eyes where (surprise) temperatures dip low enough for skiing in the winter. It is difficult to leave such a paradise that is a true Eden.

If you cannot make it to this beautiful Garden, I beg of you to taste it in the home. These below recommendations are quick, easy, and require minimal cooking:

Gather some fresh Lebanese olives, feta, tahini (sesame seed paste) and flat bread (or pita) from a middle-eastern market (most groceries will carry these products as well). Ask for zataar (a thyme-based herb mixture with oregano and sesame) and lebne (a yogurt-like cheese). You will also need 1 large eggplant, extra-virgin olive oil, a lemon, garlic, plain yogurt (optional) and a selection of your favorite seasonal fruits. (When I eat these meals, I like to use the feta pictured at right. It reminds me of what I bought in Lebanon)

Place the olives in a dish to eat as-is. Do the same for the feta. Put the lebne on a separate plate, sprinkle with zataar and pour about 1 Tbl ev olive oil over the lebne. Serve with baba ganoush (recipe below), flat bread, and your favorite salad. Use the flat bread as a spoon to scoop up the baba and cheeses. (A popular great-tasting snack is to brush olive oil on a piece of flat bread and dust with zataar; pictured. Toast until lighly browned in a toaster oven. It tastes great with the lebne and feta seasoned this way).

Below, a family recipe for Baba Ganoush (thank you A for your Lebanese wisdom):

BABA GANOUSH. (10 min cook,15 min setting time, 5 min prep). This recipe has a great smoky flavor. Recipe is the same for hummus (with only about 10 min prep-- minus the eggplant and flames, everything else is the same. Just buy a can of garbanzo beans (chickpeas), drain the liquid, and use a blender instead of a potato masher).
-----------------------
1 large eggplant
2 Tbl tahini
juice of 1 lemon
4 Tbl olive oil.
1-2 cloves garlic, crushed (or to taste)
1/2 cup plain yogurt (Optional, this gives the Baba a creamier consistency. Without it, you
may need a few more Tbl olive oil to cut the Baba’s thickness)
fresh pepper (to taste)
sea salt (to taste)
brown paper bag
potato masher
large bowl
----------------------
1. Brush the eggplant with olive oil. On a stove’s open flame, cook eggplant. Rotate periodically (easy with long tongs) until all sides are crisp from flame and eggplant wilts thoroughly. The eggplant will also become saturated and heavy with juices (some of which may leak onto stovetop). For a large eggplant, this process should take about 10 min. (This method gives the Baba its smoky flavor. Another option is to wrap in foil and bake the eggplant for about 30 min. I have never done it this way, and cannot guarantee the smoky flavor, but I assume it would cut back on juices flowing onto the stovetop).

2. Place eggplant in brown paper bag and sit the bag in the large bowl (eggplant will continue to leak juice). This continues the cooking process of the inside of the eggplant and begins to cool it. Leave in bag 15 min.

3. Open bag, peel and discard as much of the eggplant's purple skin as possible. Cut off and discard vine head. Place remaining meat (with seeds) into large bowl.

4. Mash with potato masher (you are left with a better consistency than using a blender which can destroy the seeds and turn the Baba pasty).

4. Add remainder of ingredients, mix.

5. Top off with another Tablespoon of olive oil and maybe some paprika or parsley for color.

NOTE: A Palestinian friend of mine dices and de-seeds a ripe vine-tomato and stirs it into the Baba. An Egyptian friend swears tomato is wrong and one can never have too much garlic in Baba adding at least 5 cloves to her recipe. Both these are optional, tasty additions.

Lemon Meringue Pie

When in history did the versatile lemon receive a bad rap? Akin to vanilla (as boring as vanilla ice cream; as plain as vanilla), negative lemon phrases pop up more than we might think: You’re being a sour lemon; When life gives you lemons, make lemonade; That car is a real lemon; You’re standing around like a lost lemon. What did this sun-bright fruit do to receive such sad associations? Why hasn’t the lime, an equally sour menace, gathered similar treatment? How did the sweet orange elude all the sour of its citrus brethren?

Many believe the first citrus the people of the Mediterranean tasted was the lemon-- Which makes sense since it pops up in many Middle Eastern dishes. But its origin probably stems further East than that (many suggest India is where the egg-shaped citrus first came into being). Today it’s grown in almost any climate warm enough to sustain it and almost everyone enjoys its sweeter sensibilities: from lemonade and limoncello to lemon oil and lemon curd. Life would have a lot less zest without it.

Imagine the world without mass transport and an excess of refined sweeteners. Where lemons weren't flown into the market willy nilly and that golden glow remained in flowers, not fruit. What was that first sip of pure summer like? Lemonade, with its sweet sourness. How much of a treat do you suppose the lemon once was to some? How much we take it all for granted, our availability of something so simple, once so foreign.

To pucker up to the lemon, try this (sweeter) dish: Lemon Meringue Pie. This pie’s cloud of meringue could barely fit into the oven—royal treatment considering the lemon’s often lowly placement as a mere garnish. D and I found this recipe in the epicurious.com archives as we searched for a perfectly light, refrigerated summer cake. This is the perfect treat with a hint of the tropics and much less painless than it sounds. (This is essentially the recipe from epicurious—the only difference being I used a graham cracker crust.)

LEMON MERINGUE PIE
Serving Size= 10 people. Active time= 40 minutes. Cook time= 1 hour 14 mintues. Inactive time= 4 hours
GRAHAM CRACKER CRUST
* 1 cup plain graham crackers (about 6 full crackers)
* ½ stick unsalted butter
* ¼ cup coconut

THE FILLING
* 1 cup sugar
* 2 tablespoons cornstarch
* 6 large egg yolks
* 4 large eggs
* ¾ cup fresh lemon juice
* Pinch of salt
* ¾ cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch pieces

THE MERINGUE MOUNTAIN
* 6 large egg whites
* 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
* 1-1/3 cups powdered sugar
* 1 cup sweetened flaked coconut, lightly toasted

For crust:
1) Preheat oven to 350F. In a small saucepan (or in the microwave), melt the ½ stick of butter.
2) Using a food processor (or by hand crushing them with the back of a spoon), pulse the graham crackers into small crumbs. Once pulverized, add butter and ¼ cup coconut; mix until evenly distributed.
3) Put crumbs into 9 inch pie tin. Line the tin, pressing firmly against the bottom and sides.
4) Bake for 10 minutes. Once done, set aside to cool and continue on the filling:

For filling:
1) Preheat oven to 300°F.
2) Whisk sugar and cornstarch in heavy medium saucepan to blend.
3) Whisk in yolks, whole eggs, lemon juice, and salt. Whisk over medium heat until mixture thickens and just begins to boil around edges, about 6 minutes.
4) Add butter; whisk until smooth. Cool 10 minutes. Pour warm filling into crust.

For meringue:
1) Using electric mixer, beat egg whites in large bowl until foamy.
2) Add cream of tartar and 1 tablespoon powdered sugar and beat until soft peaks form.
3) Beat in remaining sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time, then beat until stiff glossy peaks form, about 7 minutes.
4) Gently fold ¾ cup toasted coconut into meringue.
5) Spread coconut meringue over warm filling, covering completely, sealing meringue to crust edges and mounding in center.
6) Bake pie 30 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 275°F; bake 30 minutes longer.
7) Sprinkle remaining ¼ cup toasted coconut over pie; continue to bake until meringue is light golden brown and set when pie is shaken slightly, about 15 minutes longer. Transfer pie to rack and cool completely, about 4 hours. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Refrigerate uncovered.)

Head on over to Sweetnick's for the weekly ARF roundup!

Vichyssoise

There is no doubt the French can cook. Grant it, one can say this about most any people, but I take a special leaning towards French cuisine.

I began learning French in elementary school, in part, because I loved French food-- A food snob before I knew it, one of my favorite restaurants was La Boheme, an upscale bistro. To encourage my love of all things French, whenever my family traveled, my father stalked out the local French establishments (hotels, restaurants) even with his abhorrence to it all. I would walk in and grandly correct his forgotten Spanish-esque pronunciation of a French word so that all could hear me, the French-spewing-girl-wonder.

Finally my family went to Paris. I attempted to disassociate myself from my rambunctious brothers as they hollered and tumbled through parks, museums and grand avenues. I believed myself to be of more noble blood, I spoke French afterall. Appalling to the masses (mostly me), in broken Spanish my father would ask for directions: “Whatever, it’s close enough, just change an ‘e’ to an ‘a’!”. Of course, this did not help his love of the country, nor the Frenchman’s love of Americans and they promptly tuff-tuffed their way out of the situation.

“Um, moment!” I ran after countless groups. In what I believed to be perfect (though limited) French, I asked for and repeated directions that were offered with accolades for my fabulous accent.

In restaurants when my younger brother wanted butter I taught him the word and made him ask for it. I checked us into hotels. I owned France—I was a sixth-grade Francophile.

In junior high school I met a girl who’s father was French—and a chef. Worlds collided and I latched onto her. Our friendship survived but my desire to learn the language was extinguished when three horrible high school language teachers dissuaded me from fluency. I thought the girl could cook and might teach me some skills, but was soon disappointed when I found her greatest feats included boxed cakes and microwaves (still pretty good). Regardless, we remained friends.

In the end, I still love the French and the food and can mangle my once-perfect accent into a phrase or three. I tell myself I will take a language course, a French cooking course, move to Paris… In the meantime, having D’s fluency in the language helps my lack of it, knowing how to read a recipe fills the cooking course gap, and the desire to step on a plane and move to France at the moment can be filled by my local (and reasonable!) French restaurant.

This recipe is a play on the classic Vichyssoise (I have added Swiss Chard). It is traditionally served cold and is surprisingly easy to make- the perfect summer soup.

VICHYSSOISE
Active time= 20 minutes. Cook time= 40 minutes. Inactive time= 2 hours.
* 4 leeks, whites only
* 1 large bunch of Swiss chard
* ½ bunch of parsley (optional)
* 6 russet potatoes
* 6 cups chicken stock/ broth (or vegetable)
* 2 cups cream (or milk)
* 2 Tbl unsalted butter
* salt/ pepper to taste

1) Coarsely chop the leeks (whites only), Swiss chard and parsley. Chop the potatoes into 1-2 inch chunks.
2) In a stock pot on medium-high heat, melt the butter. Once warm, add leeks, Swiss chard and parsley. Cook until wilted, stirring occasionally; 8-10 minutes.
3) Add potatoes and chicken stock; cover. Bring to a boil then reduce heat to medium. Cook for 30 minutes; or until potatoes are soft.
4) Using a handheld blender (or carefully in a blender in batches) purée the soup. Add cream, salt and pepper. Refrigerate for 2 hours, or until cold. Serve garnished with parsley.
NOTE: The pink over the soup pictured is sea salt.

Don't forget to check out Kalyn's Kitchen for a little WHB action.

In non-food related news Eat Stuff is back with WCB! Below we have Whisky pictured with a stuffed dog. This could be wrong on many levels, none of which I want to investigate.

Cold Corn Soup

My mother loves buttermilk. When I was growing up, she would buy vats of it and sit happily curled up with a clear glass of thick creamy buttermilk. She tipped the glass and the milk receded, leaving its history in filthy chunky streaks. If the glass was rotated with each drink, the clear would turn white and there was no telling how much of the vile matter was left.

My dislike towards buttermilk probably began when my mother first brought it home: “Ew! Buttermilk?! Why would you drink butter?!” I obediently tasted it, confirming my suspicion of its disgusting nature, spat it back into the cup and thoroughly washed my mouth clean with water and crackers. My brothers held similar sentiments to the fraud milk.

Regardless of her children’s opinions, every few weeks my mother would buy a quart of it. Her prized purchase, she coddled the slim carton like a newborn, setting it gently between the two mammothly awkward gallons of milk and silhouettes of my father’s beer in the refrigerator. We sat down to dinner, places set, milk all around: 2% milk poured for the kids, buttermilk for my mother. I watched my mother’s clear glass turn progressively scum-covered, grimacing with the thought of its improperly heavy consistency.

Sometimes we ran out of 2% milk. My mother, thinking she was so clever, would pour our glasses full of buttermilk. My brothers and I saw the scam before we ever sat down: “I’m not drinking that.”
“What are you talking about? It’s just milk.”
“That’s not milk. That’s that… buttermilk.”
“No it’s not.”
“Yes it is. I can tell because it’s not white.”
White, pristine, pure, the color of half a cow. The color of milk. Real milk. The only milk my brothers and I consumed. We went to the refrigerator to confirm our suspicion: there was no gallon of 2%: “See, I told you. It’s buttermilk.”
“No, it’s the last of the 2%. I threw the container away.”
…Walking to the trash compactor.
“Oh, I already took the trash out…”
A lie. The trash was full. I fetched a glass of juice and sat slumped with crossed arms as my mother’s glass grew opaque throughout dinner. I pushed my buttermilk glass her way, she happily took seconds.

More often than not, a fresh gallon of milk would grace the shelves of the refrigerator after an episode like this. Sometimes, time passed too quickly and the buttermilk remained an intruder on the dinner table. The episode repeated itself with little variation:
“I’m not drinking that.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s not milk. That’s the buttermilk.”
“No it’s not. I bought regular milk, look:” My mother would lift a glass and slosh the milk around a bit, coating the sides and comparing it to her own glass, “see, mine’s thicker,” she would proudly proclaim.
I knew her trick: “That’s just because you watered ours down. I’m not drinking that.”

Life continued and sooner than later my mother stopped attempting to pass buttermilk off as regular milk. If it was spied in the refrigerator, I pushed it off to the back recesses, allowing real beverages to hold court.

Strangely enough, I love buttermilk. I now happily reach for it every few weeks in the grocery and pull it from my refrigerator. I love it in pancakes and as the base to decadently rich frostings. It is delicious-- Just not alone.

It must have been with a severe lapse in my childhood trauma memory bank that I read a M.F.K. Fisher recipe and thought Cold Buttermilk Soup actually sounded good. Surprisingly refreshing so I copied the recipe down. Adapting it a
bit to suit my own flavors (scallops instead of shrimp, the addition of corn and broth and no sugar).

This soup has become a summertime favorite, especially when corn hits peak season.

COLD CORN SOUP
Serving size= 6 people. Active time= 15 minutes. Inactive time= 1-2 hours
* 1 quart buttermilk
* 2 cups vegetable or chicken broth or stock
* 4 ears of corn
* 1 pound of scallops (or shrimp)
* 1 cucumber, diced
* 2 Tbl spicy mustard
* ¼ cup chopped dill
* 1 Tbl butter
* salt/ pepper to taste

1) Using a sharp knife, carefully slice the kernels off the ears of corn. If using large scallops, cut into quarters.
2) Over medium heat in a large skillet, melt the butter. When pan is hot, add the corn and scallops. Cook about 8 minutes, stirring occasionally, until both change darker shades of their respective original coloring.
3) While the corn and scallops are cooking, dice the cucumber and chop the dill.
4) In a large bowl, place the buttermilk, broth, cucumber, mustard and dill.
5) Once corn and scallops are done, add to buttermilk mixture. Add salt/ pepper to taste. Stir and refrigerate until cooled.

Chorizo-Lime BBQ Ribs

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Summer brings a new culture onto the streets of New York City. It lives and breathes the pavement and it waits out the humid days for the cooling nights, begging for a release with rain. People move from their cramped apartments onto stoops, lawn chairs, handball courts, public pools, beaches, parks— even an air conditioned store to roam aimlessly for a cool down.

I walked home the other day and witnessed my neighborhood in a new light. Every winter we tightly latch ourselves into our undersized apartments, bundled under blankets and layers of clothing. I begin to forget the people that live in my neighborhood-- that I pass everyday on the streets-- that I ride the train with into Manhattan while we forget where we are and where we are going. As summer’s heat finally hits hard, the close quarters are too much and private life blends into public.

My neighborhood is a multicultural whirlwind of ethnicities and personalities. A perfect microcosm of New York City, I can walk two blocks in one direction to restock my sheesha; two blocks in the other for the best gyro in the City (or the best frappe according to the New York Times). I can go to the Mexican bodega for $1 tamales on the weekends, the Bangladesh deli for a fresh mango smoothie, or the Indian bakery for fresh gulab jaman. The list continues into the night.

But what emerges in the summer holds more than the variety of stores I relish. It is a look into the lives of others. Purple-haired women drink orange soda as their granddaughters regale their waning days of the school year. A group of kids playing soccer in the streets knock their ball too close to a passerby. A mother sits on the stoop as her son practices handball against their brick building. Young girls seek out the icy man for fresh coconut ices. Neighbors rehash old ties, friendly waves cross intersections, the weight of clothing is reduced, it is summertime and the people are happy.

The heat draws people out of their home physically and mentally. Each day I pass the local bargain shop and spy the cheap charcoal grills, waiting for the perfect time to purchase the one-season specialties. Spending time in the kitchen is cut short as the heat of the oven is viewed as sin. Hamburgers, quick chickens, easy seafood and of course, ribs, are easy on the mind because they lend us the notion of lazy-weekend-outdoor-eating with friends and loved ones.

With that said, I justify yet another round of ribs (pork this time)—perfect for a 4th of July BBQ. This one is dripping tangy citrus flavors off the chin with every bite. It is a thick and chunky sauce, loaded with freshness that screams homemade. It is something to impress friends with and all too easy to make. D believes the sauce recipe is too heavy on tomatoes, but I think it sits perfectly on the ribs— with that said, do what you will with the quantity.

CHORIZO-LIME BBQ RIBS
Serving size= 4 people. Active time= 35 minutes. Inactive time= 1 hour 20 minutes
CHORIZO-LIME BBQ RIBS
* 5 pounds pork ribs, have the butcher crack the bone but do not separate the ribs
* Chorizo-Lime BBQ sauce (recipe below)

1) Preheat oven to 400F. While oven is warming, begin to prep sauce ingredients below. Place rack of ribs on a large oven-proof baking sheet with a rim, cover with tinfoil. When oven is ready, place ribs on center rack for 15 minutes.
2) As ribs are baking, finish up the sauce on the stovetop. The sauce should be ready around the same time as the ribs in the first part of the baking process.
3) Remove the sauce from the heat and the ribs from the oven (once the 15 minutes are up). Lower oven temperature to 350F. Remove tinfoil and generously coat the ribs with the sauce. Cover with tinfoil and return to the oven for 1 hour.

CHORIZO-LIME BBQ SAUCE
Serving size= 4 people. Active time= 30 minutes.
* 7 ounces, about 4 chorizo links, diced small
* ½ bunch cilantro, chopped
* 2- 6 ounce cans tomato paste, no salt added
* juice of 3 limes
* 1 cup cider vinegar
* 2 Tbl molasses
* 2 Tbl spicy mustard
* 1 Tbl favorite hot sauce
* ¼ cup water
salt/ pepper to taste

1) In a sauce pan on medium heat, warm the chorizo and cilantro until the cilantro wilts and aromas escape, about 3 minutes.
2) Add remaining ingredients. Bring to a boil then remove from heat. Coat ribs and bake or enjoy as extra dipping sauce on the side.

Head on over to Kalyn's Kitchen to catch this week's WHB roundup!

Radish & Peach Sandwich

As previously mentioned the garden has produced crisp, slightly bitter and tremendously juicy White Hailstone radishes, smelling faintly of blossoms and soil. Pulled from the ground (rather, bucket) and washed clean, Kitty even had a taste of the thick green stalks (see picture from June 24).

Desiring more than a salad and noting the meager contents of my pantry I went to the inspiration of cookbooks. Cracking each one, I went straight to the index only to find many a radish laden salad. D grew hungry and impatient, Kitty kept at the stalks and I finally found what I vaguely remembered I had: the Best of Gourmet Paris. The cover image, burned in my memory, showcased two mouth-watering baguettes: one brimming over with a thick schmear of goat cheese covered with raspberries, the other a candy cane assortment of radishes over a blue speckled blanket of cheese.

Using the recipe as inspiration, I headed to the grocery for the best Roquefort I know: Société (with a nod to a certain Frenchman currently displaced in Nottingham, England whose mother used to work at the dairy). Then to the bakery for a (Greek) baguette. In no time, this amazingly simple summer sandwich was produced.

Though D thoroughly rejected my notion that peach would be a sweet and colorful addition to the sandwich, I won in the end and crowned my prized radishes. One bite and I am hooked on the summery nature of this sandwich. The bread, an airy bed for the slightly pungent and salty creaminess of the Roquefort. The garden radishes crisp, with each bite sprinkling dew upon my nose. The peach, pure icing on the cake—the perfect representation of summer that left warm juice dribbling down my chin.

Each ingredient complimented each other to perfection. With a few slices of radish leftover, I placed them on the side, gave them a sprinkling of Lots Wyfe Hawaiian sea salt, creating radish “chips” and popped them in my mouth as a palate cleanser. Hunger problems solved and more refreshing radish sandwiches in the future warming months.

RADISH & PEACH SANDWICH
Serving size= 2 persons. Active time= 8 minutes.
*4 medium-sized White Hailstone Radish (preferred)
* 1 ripe peach
* 4 Tbl Roquefort cheese (Société preferred)
* 1 loaf crispy bread (baguette)

1) Cut the baguette in 2 and slice open (this is an open-faced sandwich)
2) Smear Roquefort over the insides of the 4 bread pieces.
3) Chop radish into 1/4-inch thick discs and layer over Roquefort
4) Slice peach into half. Remove pit and slice each half into 8 wedges. Place over radish.


Check out some Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies over at WellFed's Paper Palate.

Head on over to Sweetnick's for more ARF friendly items!

Macerated Strawberries & Blueberry-Jalapeno Mojitos

Fruit is an all too easy summer fallback dessert. While the heat beats us down, time spent in a kitchen presents itself as a not too pleasant option. And now, while fruit begin their turn to the sweetest, is the perfect time to jazz up an already perfect food into superstardom. These two fruity dishes; one beverage, one dessert, allows you more time where you belong in the summer: outside.

The dessert is one that tastes far more complicated and time consuming than it is, a plus for any entertainer. The beverage, originally presented to me by fellow food-lover RF, is a surprisingly sweet compliment to a typically hot notion: jalapeno peppers.

D and I enjoyed these with company. We paired them together at the close of our meal. While the strawberries were a pleasingly sweet and luxurious dish, the blueberry mojitos were refreshingly smooth. Both offer a fabulous cool down in the intense heat of the upcoming season.

Head on over to Sweetnick's for more ARF friendly items!

MACERATED STRAWBERRIES
Serving size= 4 people. Active time= 8 minutes. Inactive time= 2 hours
* 1 quart strawberries, devined and quartered
* ½ cup + 2 Tbl sugar
* 1 cup orange liqueur (Cointreau)
* juice of 1 lemon
* 1 Tbl lemon zest
* 8 pieces chocolate biscotti
* 12 ounces mascarpone cheese
* 1 pint heavy cream

1) In a medium bowl, mix strawberries, ½ cup sugar, orange liqueur, lemon juice and lemon zest. Cover and refrigerate 2 hours to overnight.
2) Just before serving, make the whipped cream: In a chilled bowl with cold ingredients, beat the mascarpone with the heavy cream and 2 Tbl sugar until soft peaks form.
3) Assemble: layer on a plate or deep glass (for example wine glass) biscotti, then divide strawberries and liquid over biscotti. Top with whipped mascarpone-cream mixture. Coco powder can be dusted on top or mint sprig placed over.

BLUEBERRY-JALAPENO MOJITOS
Serving size= 4 people. Active time= 8 minutes
* 6 ounces white rum
* 1 bunch fresh mint
* 1 pint blueberries
* 2 fresh jalapeno peppers, diced
* juice of 2 limes + 1 for garnish
* 1 liter club soda
* 4 Tbl sugar
* crushed ice

1) Place ½ pint blueberries, 1 diced jalapeno, mint, sugar and lime juice in a pitcher or divide amongst glasses. Muddle (crush) to extract aromas and flavors.
2) Add remaining blueberries and jalapeno peppers, crushed ice, rum, and top with club soda; stir to incorporate.
3) Garnish with lime wedges and serve.

Blueberry Pancakes

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As the summer haze blanketed the Chicagoland area my mother used to stuff us into the Jeep. We would head north into Wisconsin to go fishing at the crack of dawn, or south to the great flea market in Sandwich, Illinois. The best weekend trips were making the loop around the tip of the Lake and heading into Michigan.

We left early and drove with the windows down, only to lock them tight and hold our breath as we passed through Gary, Indiana. To ensure a speedy trip, my older brother forced the younger one to urinate in old take-out cups beneath a blanket in the back seat while my mother kept us wired with the odd stop at a gas station—we had our own fill-up of Pixy-sticks, Sixlettes, and Lick-a-Sticks.

We would arrive in Michigan, buzzed on sugar and ready for the task at hand: blueberry picking. Is it possible that the $5 candy allowance was to negate any possibility of sluggishness for the harvest? My brothers and I grabbed our buckets and dashed into the fields, whizzing past those poor saps who failed to realize the benefit of an 8AM sugar high.

I chose the rare specimens-- the blueberries that bypassed nature and could have landed in a Coney Island sideshow. Plump with juice and ready to burst, I picked the berries that would never make it into a store-bought pint. The berries my radar found were the size of apricots. Destiny had allowed these prized specimens extra strength in their branch, they pulled the bush down, but were refused to fall. They remained freakishly alone, awaiting my chubby little fingers to pluck them out.

Eventually our fingers and tongues faded into blue, the sun became too hot, and our highs turned to hunger. We left the blueberry patch for a friend’s beachside summerhouse where we could cool down in the lake. As everyone changed into suits I grabbed my blueberry pint and sorted my prized possessions—no one was to eat my ginormous ribbon winners. I removed each of my overgrown blueberries from the pint and placed them at my bedside table before I allowed myself to join everyone in the water.

The weekend would end with a bonfire on the beach. I transplanted my special berries into a paper cup and coddled them as we headed home. I would exit the car, run up to my bedroom and slowly remove each blueberry, scrutinizing it for any imperfections before I gently placed it on my windowsill. There they remained to rot, untouched by another human, admired until they deflated into a mush.

This recipe base is the same that appears for D’s Strawberry Banana Pancakes.

CORN MOUNTAIN PANCAKES
Makes about 15 4-inch pancakes. Prep time= 10 minutes.
* 1 egg
* 1-1/4 cup milk
* 5 Tbl vinegar
* 2 Tbl molasses
* 1/4 cup butter, melted
* 1 cup flour
* 1 tsp salt
* 1/2 tsp baking soda
* 2 tsp baking powder
* 3/4 cup yellow cornmeal
* 3/4 cup applesauce
* 1 pint fresh blueberries

1) Beat together egg, milk, vinegar, molasses, butter, and applesauce.
2) Add flour, sifted with salt, baking soda and baking powder, stir until blended.
3) Add cornmeal, stir until just blended.
4) Warm a skillet on medium-high heat. Melt ½ Tbl butter. When pan is hot, use a 1/4 cup measure to scoop and drop even batter. Sprinkle fruit on top of batter. Cook until bubbles begin to appear, about 3 minutes. Flip, cook for another 2 minutes.

NOTE: Sliced apples, pears, blueberries, or any other fruit is amazing with this batter. Another option is to use buttermilk instead of regular milk and vinegar.

Chipotle-Mustard Glazed Chilean Sea Bass w/ Green Beans

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I first encountered the chipotle pepper a few years back. It was my birthday and a friend brought me an orange can of La Morena Chipotle Peppers in Adobo Sauce. He had passed a Mexican bodega on the way to the party, stopped in, and bought the cheapest bizarre food item he could find—the 50 cent-7 ounce can was perfect. It was not the only strange food-related gift I would receive that year: a small jar of mint chutney, a bag of stale cotton candy, a can of tuna fish and gunpowder tea were some others. All, much to my own surprise, were put to use—except the chipotle peppers—I just did not know what to do with them.

I cannot say I was afraid of the little shriveled smoked pepper. I just did not make much Mexican food at home (a friend of mine worked at a fabulous Mexican restaurant that offered me a good deal on my meals). I did not know what to do with it. As I said, this was a few years ago. My adventures in mixing world cuisines were not so daring, that can of peppers sat in my cupboard for at least 1 year.

After years of eating chicken mole at said establishment, I finally craved that bittersweet chocolate sauce one night at home. I called my friend for the recipe, attempted my own measurements (since they make it in large vats) and low and behold, I had all the ingredients-- chipotle chili peppers being one of them. I whipped up a batch and I might say, mine was just as delicious as the one I had been eating for years.

I no longer shy away from buying that little orange can of peppers. Their deep smoky flavor is unique and their subtle spice is superb. So when I was sent a bottle of Chipotle-Mustard, I knew it would be delicious. That mustard started popping up in my tuna fish sandwiches, replacing regular deli mustard. I used it on kielbasas, in dips, for dressings on salads.

Inspiration hit the other day as D and I purchased some Chilean Sea Bass from the fishmonger. The problem I often have with D: I want to experiment and he will say something in the realm of: “We purchased the most expensive fish in there, nothing should be added, it’s like drenching a filet mignon in sauce! Fish should be simple: butter, lemon juice, done.” I assured him that even though I had no idea what I was doing, I knew what I was doing. The more you cook, the more you understand flavors and how they might coexist. I was finally able to convince D that replacing plain mustard with chipotle mustard would taste good.

The result? The fish just melted in the mouth. It was a superb combination of smoky chili to sweet mustard to buttery fish. Served alongside green beans this meal will have to be made again—possibly with more chipotle oomph.

CHIPOTLE-MUSTARD GLAZED CHILEAN SEA BASS w/ GREEN BEANS
Makes 2 servings. Active Time= 8 minutes. Cook Time= 20 minutes.
* 1 pound Chilean Sea Bass
* 1 Tbl Silver Springs Chipotle-Mustard
* 2 tsp granulated sugar
* 1 Tbl butter
* about 20 green beans, washed and ends plucked clean

1) Preheat oven to 250F. Melt butter over stovetop on medium-high in an oven-safe pan. While the pan is warming, mix the chipotle-mustard and sugar in a small bowl. Wash and pat dry the Sea Bass.
2) When pan is hot, sear the Sea Bass, skin side up for 2-3 minutes. Flip and sear skin side down for 2-3 minutes. (The thickest part of the fish should still be raw).
3) Brush the chipotle mix over the Sea Bass, place the green beans around the fish and put in center shelf of oven, uncovered, for 20 minutes.


For non-food related activities we have WCB over at Eat Stuff. Below we have one very inactive post-op Whiskey drugged up and sleepy.

As well as one comatose self-drugged (cat nip) Kitty BoJangles (note the fluffy toy that is stuffed full of nip).

Strawberry Tart

I never liked Strawberry Shortcake growing up. I’m not talking about the dessert, but the doll. She was terribly pink and I never was a fan of pink. All high and holy on her board game; Rainbow Bright was much better. She sported moon boots even when they went out of fashion, a mini skirt that looked like a flotation device, had a tattoo on her face (so risqué), and her best friend was an unicorn! Okay, so now Rainbow and her friends look like they have spent all night at a Rave doing copious amounts of acid, but back then, she was cool.

Strawberry Shortcake did allow me to remember one important bit of information: dessert has two “s” like Strawberry Shortcake, while desert, cannot be a cake—or doll.

While I have pretty much gotten over my loathsome tendencies toward Shortcake (the doll) I must say the dessert is pretty darn good. And really, there is nothing better to usher in the warmer months than strawberries—Just do a Google search for ”strawberry festival” and you can see over 3 million people agree.

Unfortunately, it is the one fruit (or vegetable) I do not particularly enjoy picking for myself. I picked blueberries, corn, nectarines and peaches in heat that topped 100 degrees last summer. The strawberry fields… I stayed away from. It is just too laborious of a task to bend so low and rummage for the ruby in the haystack. (Note to self: borrow young child who does not mind stooping over for 1 hour to pick self fresh strawberries.) But humans do crazy things for love and this is why strawberries hold the status they do.

This dessert is no shortcake. It is a little bit classier, looks spectacular, tastes sophisticated enough to hold its own at dinner party, and yet is festive enough to highlight a BBQ. Made only yesterday, it has almost vanished, smacking a smile on D’s face with each bite.

*This recipe is adapted from an April 2005 Gourmet magazine. In mine, the cream cheese filling has been altered, as well as the topping. I also made a quick crust found in The Joy of Cooking. The original used kiwis, a store-bought pre-made crust, and incorporated no herb.

STRAWBERRY TART
Makes: 8-10 servings. Active Time= 30 minutes. Inactive Time=15 minutes
The Crust
*This is the recipe as it appears in the The Joy of Cooking.
For a double-crust 9-inch, or a single-crust pie with a generous lattice, use the following amounts. For a one-crust 9-inch pie, use half the recipe.
Sift Together:
* 2 cups all-purpose flour
* 1 tsp salt
Measure and combine:
* 2/3 cup chilled leaf lard or shortening
* 2 Tbl chilled butter
Cut half the shortening into the flour mixture with a pastry blender, or work it in lightly with the tips of your fingers until it has the grain of cornmeal. Cut the remaining half coarsely into the dough until it is pea size. Sprinkle the dough with:
* 4 Tbl water
Blend the water lightly into the dough. You may lift the ingredients with a fork, allowing moisture to spread. If needed to hold the ingredients together, add:
* 1 tsp to 1 Tbl water
When you can gather the dough up into a tidy ball, stop handling it.
-------------
1) Preheat oven to 450F. Roll out the dough and place it into your pie tin or tart mold. Bring the dough about ¼ inch over the edge of the tin; fold back to reinforce the edge.
2) Poke dough several times with fork. Cover bottom with tinfoil, add pie weights or dry beans or rice. Bake for 6 minutes. Carefully remove the foil and weight. Bake for 7-10 minutes more; until crust is golden.
3) Place on rack to cool. While cooling, make the filling (below).

The Filling
*Adapted from Gourmet, April 2005. Use a pie tin with removable bottom for easy serving.
* 6 oz cream cheese, room temperature
* 2 Tbl sugar
* 2 Tbl milk
* 2 tsp finely grated fresh orange zest
* 1 tsp vanilla
* 2 tsp fresh mint, chopped
* 10-12 ripe strawberries, tops removed, sliced in half
1) While crust (above) is cooling, in a bowl, beat cream cheese, sugar, milk, zest, and vanilla with a mixer until smooth, 2 to 3 minutes.
2) Add chopped mint; mix with spatula to incorporate.
3) Spread cream cheese filling evenly in cooled shell; top with strawberry slices.
NOTE: Can be made ahead and chilled. Tart should be brought to room temperature before serving.

Head on over to Sweetnick's for today's ARF round up!

Jicama Passion Salad w/ Shrimp

I will admit there are many foods I have yet to try in my life. A semi-picky eater as a child, then vegetarian for six years, left me many missed opportunities. So it is only recently that I am opening my doors to the new. Last week it was skate, over the weekend it was pork belly, and today it is passion fruit.

It is true. I must sadly come to terms to the fact that I have never (knowingly) had passion fruit before today-- okay, two days before: At a recent brunch I discussed with friend, R, how I love Looza’s Tomato Juice because it is 100% pure tomato juice—the perfect base for an excellent Bloody Mary. He dared me to try the Passion Fruit, “truly amazing.” So the next time I saw it in stock I took the challenge and bought some. Once in my mouth I was brought to the Caribbean.

So as I went shopping one day my eyes fell upon a plum-looking fruit. The sign read “Passion Fruit.” A bit pricey at $1.50 a piece; I decided it needed trying, regardless.

Originally from Brazil, passion fruit got its name from Spanish missionaries who thought the fruit resembled religious symbols, like the crown of thorns. In Spanish, it is known as granadilla or “little pomegranate,” possibly because like the pomegranate, it is the pulpy seeds that are eaten.

Passion fruits are small with an overwhelmingly sweet pulp that is often strained for juice or sauces (though the seeds can be eaten). A good source of vitamins A, C and fiber (some claim it to be the highest fiber source of all fruits) and high in potassium, the flavor and health benefits of these little wonders go a long way.

Passion fruits are available in shades of purple or yellow (a more tart fruit) depending on the variety. When purchasing, pick the largest fruit available. It should be firm and as it ripens, the skin’s ridgidity should keep, while becoming slightly shriveled when ripe. When it is ready to eat, slice it in half, scoop out the seeds, and use them as-is or strain the pulp and just use the juice. Either way, this fruit is pure indulgence that should be tried.

The combination in this salad was pure tropic. The light, watery crispness of jicama (hick-e-ma) pairs perfectly with the buttery smoothness of avocado. A sprinkling of cayenne pepper gives this salad a great kick. When drizzled with passion fruit seeds and a smattering of shrimp, this salad is utterly delicious.

JICAMA PASSION SALAD w/ SHRIMP
Serves 2. Active Time= 15 minutes. Inactive time= 1 hour.
* 1 lb large shrimp, peeled and de-veined
* 1- 12oz can lager beer
* juice of 1 lime
* 2 scallions, chopped
* 1 avocado, sliced ¼-inch thick
* 1 jicama, peeled and sliced ¼-inch thick
* 1 passion fruit, pulp only
* 2 tsp cayenne pepper

1) Place the cleaned shrimp, beer, lime and scallion in a bowl. Mix and let marinate in the refrigerator for 1 hour.
2) When shrimp are done, using a grill pan (or real grill) set to medium cook the shrimp, 2-3 minutes each side, until they turn pink/ char slightly and curl. Place in a fresh bowl in the refrigerator to chill while prepping the rest.
3) Peel and slice the avocado and jicama, arranging them on 2 plates. Remove the shrimp from the refrigerator and arrange it on the plate. Sprinkle with cayenne pepper and passion fruit pulp. Drizzle with lime juice (optional).

Strawberry-Banana Corn Mountain Pancakes

The door to a girl’s heart lies in a fluffy pancake. I do not take comfort in flabby, thin pancakes I have sometimes been served. Nor am I much a lover of the generic buttermilk pancake. Though good, I have grown tired of their monotony. Recently, I was served a wheat germ pancake larger than a Frisbee. I was more impressed by the size than the flavor. At this same meal, I was told my friend’s upcoming wedding will serve pancakes at the reception. From my favorite pancake spot I used to order 10 little dollar pancakes. Sometimes known as silver dollar pancakes, I enjoyed these because my tiny hands could cup a pancake, and easily be shoved whole onto my delicate palate. My grandmother makes pancakes without following a recipe, effortlessly puffy, requiring all grandchildren to drench them in her homemade jam. If another’s jam is brought to her kitchen she will “forget” to put it out amongst her own.

I have required D to make these pancakes for me often. They are his family’s “secret” recipe—taken from a cornmeal box long ago. They are the pancake of his youth and happily remembered breakfast table. The first time he made these pancakes for me he held the phone to his ear, mixing ingredients, as his mother retold the recipe she refused to write down. A few weeks later, he had called so often, the recipe was mailed to him.

The perfect fluffiness, the perfect denseness, the perfect sweetness, these pancakes are bold enough to stand on their own. One day, behind D’s back, I added chopped apples, mimicking my grandmother’s perfect pancake. When he turned around to witness the horror I had created he refused to proceed. Just go on, I encouraged. Before long he happily exclaimed the apple to be the perfect complement to the cornmeal and molasses base. Since then, D and I have made these pancakes in countless fruit forms: apple, pear, banana, blueberry, strawberry, peach...

We have also altered the original recipe slightly. Again to D’s horror, I emptied a jar of applesauce into the batter. You’ve ruined it, he moaned. Remember the apples, I pushed. When the pancakes were complete they were fluffier than ever. Since then, whenever applesauce is in the house, we happily add it, along with any fruit we may have.

D and I normally make a whole batch of these pancakes. Their subtle aroma fills the house and two or three days later we pop them cold into our mouth on the way out the door. We offer them to friends who are overly impressed with their not-so-simple looking nature. Little do they know how simple they really are.

The key to these pancakes is in the cornmeal and molasses. Only top-quality ingredients should be used. Last summer at the Indiana State Fair, D’s mother gifted us a bag of cornmeal from Sunny Slopes Farm. It is the perfect cornmeal for this pancake (they do not take online orders: 765.874.2170). A few months later when we ran out of cornmeal, I called Sunny Slopes. As I spoke to Mrs. Slope herself about the benefits of farm-fresh products I told her I would only buy direct from farms in the future. She laughed and sent me 2 lbs of cornmeal, complete with invoice. A few days later I kept my promise, ordering goat cheese I had fallen for from a farm outside of Poughkeepsie.

These pancakes are simple and delicious. Making them takes little effort. They are sure to become a household favorite. With this recipe, you may now discard all other pancake recipes (except for maybe the baked apple pancake). Play with the amount of molasses used. D and I actually use Sorghum, about double the asked for quantity. We also usually throw in fruit-- this is optional, but delicious. Do what you may, but never say these babies are dull, lacking flavor or fluff.

CORN MOUNTAIN PANCAKES
Makes about 15 4-inch pancakes. Prep time= 10 minutes.
* 1 egg
* 1-1/4 cup milk
* 5 Tbl vinegar
* 2 Tbl molasses
* 1/4 cup butter, melted
* 1 cup flour
* 1 tsp salt
* 1/2 tsp baking soda
* 2 tsp baking powder
* 3/4 cup yellow cornmeal
* 3/4 cup applesauce
* ripe fruit, sliced into 1/4-inch discs (optional)

1) Beat together egg, milk, vinegar, molasses, butter, and applesauce.
2) Add flour, sifted with salt, baking soda and baking powder, stir until blended.
3) Add cornmeal, stir until just blended.
4) Warm a skillet on mediu-high heat. Melt 1 Tbl butter. When pan is hot, use a 1/4 cup measure to scoop and drop even batter. Place fruit slices ontop of batter. Cook until bubbles begin to appear, about 3 minutes. Flip, cook for another 2 minutes.

NOTE: Sliced apples, pears, blueberries, or any other fruit is amazing with this batter. Another version is to use buttermilk instead of regular milk and vinegar.

Feelin' Fruity: Part IV Mango Tango Smoothie

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Just when I mention the winter ocean picking up the slack for the things we crave, I desire the joys of summer. With one mango to my name and a handful of blackberries, what else is there, but a delicious smoothie?

I am not talking about that slick electronic “BlackBerry,” I happily do not own and is the joy (and misery) of lawyers across the nation. The blackberry I speak of is plucked from the bush. They turn your clean hands a royal purple and are a sweet and pleasant fruit.

Native to many parts of the world, the blackberries we consume today have been used for over 2,000 years in medicinal and culinary purposes. Their thorny branches are also a tasty way to keep intruders away, though your delicious bush may be plucked clean, the thief will easily be caught purple-handed. The berry was once crushed and used as ink (forget the dog, I might eat my own homework). Today, amidst other disease research, blackberry tannins are being studied for their role in fighting cancer.

While in Latvia, my cousins mixed blackberry juice (as well as current juice, orange juice and vodka—or combination of all) with Balsam—their claim to a quick fix of whatever ails a person: from upset stomach; to hangover; to liver damage. I will say this combination was rather revolting, but alone, blackberry juice was thick and delicious. I have yet to find it in the United States, but maybe my search has not reached far enough.

Though I would not add balsam to this smoothie, a little banana never hurt the texture or flavor…

MANGO TANGO SMOOTHIE
Makes 2 smoothies. Prep time= 8 minutes. Use a hand-held or stationary blender.
* 15-20 blackberries
* 1 ripe mango (for peeling suggestions go here)
* 1 ripe banana
* ¼ cup plain yogurt (vanilla, low-fat, no-fat, regular or soy options work too)
* ½ cup orange juice

1) Place all ingredients in blender. Blend and serve.

Other smoothie options:
Berry Merry Smoothie
Apricot-Mango Smoothie
Berry-Banana Smoothie

Feelin' Fruity: Part III Berry Merry Smoothie

The weather in New York has been a tease this last week. Mild, breezy and spring-like, people are shedding their winter frocks and embracing the warmth. We should enjoy it while we can, but really, why give the people such a pure indication of a change when the bitter winds are sure pull around again? With this in mind, we must keep healthy. Keep up our intake of antioxidant rich fruits and vegetables, and more importantly, allow it to please out palate.

Herewith, a favorite installment of mine: the berry smoothie. There is nothing like a fruit smoothie to boost your energy. Pack it with energy inducing fruits and a scoop of yogurt, this sweet drink helps get you through the morning with a tropical state of mind, regardless of the dropping mercury. Today’s is an odds-and-ends of leftover fruits I found while cleaning out the freezer.

How surprised I was to uncover some long-forgotten blueberries. I also found a small stash of currants that I had purchased for New Year’s to drop in Champagne (this was a great trick: the light currants danced marvelously in the bubbly). Currants are just now making a name in the U.S. Long a European favorite, these poison-looking berries are rich in disease-fighting abilities; thought to be more potent than blueberries and pomegranate pulps. They are also packed with vitamin C, A, potassium, calcium and phosphorous. Even better: I met a man a few months back who planted the first currant farm in the U.S. to produce currant juice. It tastes delicious and I cannot wait until it hits my local store.

BERRY MERRY SMOOTHIE

Makes 2 smoothies. Prep time= 5 minutes. Use a hand-held or stationary blender.
* 10 blackberries
* handful of currants (red, black or white)
* ¼ cup ripe blueberries
* 4 ripe strawberries
* 1 ripe banana
* ¼ cup plain yogurt (vanilla, low-fat, no-fat, regular or soy options work too)
* ½ cup orange juice

1) Place all ingredients in blender. Blend and serve.

Other smoothie options:
Apricot-Mango Smoothie
Berry-Banana Smoothie

Huevos Rancheros con Guacamole

An ode to Mexican food: You hold comfort in the bean, spice in the pepper, butter in the avocado, dipping in the salsa, and manly challenges in the tequila’s worm-- I believe that covers all necessary categories for fun eating. One can also dine out on superb Mexican food for relatively cheap, making this the college student or starving artists’ favorite food. Is there any other country brilliant enough to incorporate chocolate in a main dish?

My personal belief is that Mexican food is aided greatly by the avocado. That beautiful green butterball is pure decadence in dining. Originally known for its sexual powers (throw away the Viagra boys!), the avocado’s original name was ahuacati or “testicle”. But alas, the Spanish Conquistadores could not pronounce the Aztec name, dubbing this delight aguacate. This fruit eventually became popular to sea-faring Europeans, who called the avocado, midshipman’s butter, spreading it on their biscuits.

I personally keep an avocado on hand for any emergency situation that may arise: for a salad, in a sandwich, sliced with eggs, blanketed in proscuitto… I could go on. My favorite way to enjoy an avocado though is in guacamole.

I received this recipe from a good friend who manages a Mexican restaurant. The food is so good I rarely attempt to shame myself with any recreation of their dishes. But guacamole is a life-saver, so it was the one recipe I had to have. I once made this over Thanksgiving: I handed the bowl to my brother, ran downstairs to put my wet clothes into the dryer, and returned to find the bowl was (literally) licked clean. He slouched low on the couch, the empty bowl resting in the cradle of his arm, while he giggled in delight at his deft eating abilities. I made another batch and ate it in front of him, making sure to keep it just out of reach, just like a good sister should. Stupidly, I taught him the recipe so anytime I was on my way home craving guacamole I found the avocado stash cleaned out.

The key to an avocado (and therefore guacamole) is to ripen it properly. Purchase a seemingly soft one only to slice it open and find it bruised and unusable. Purchase a rock hard avocado and the time spent waiting for it to ripen is heart-wrenching. I assure you, ripening the avocado in your own home is the wiser choice (as is the Hass variety):

Hass avocadoes are rough-skinned and smaller. They have a nutty, buttery flavor. The thin-skinned large, lighter variety is not as flavorful and more watery. It is best to purchase avocadoes when they are hard. Allow the avocado to sit on your counter (or fruit bowl) to ripen (or in a paper bag with an apple for faster results). This process will probably take about 3-4 days and the avocado skin will darken as it matures. The avocado is ripe when the skin gives under a little pressure (the innards are soft). Once they are ready, they can remain for a few more days on the counter or be placed in the refrigerator for about 2 weeks. When ripe, the skin easily peels off (once started with a knife) and the seed is easy to remove. If you do not use an entire avocado, sprinkle it with lime or lemon juice and wrap it air-tight to prevent discoloration.

For this meal, the most time-consuming preparation is in the guacamole: 5 minutes. This makes today’s meal one of the fastest and most delicious breakfast dishes available. This was made a) because I had a ripe avocado itching to be used and b) I had the broken ends of un-dipable tortilla chips I could not make myself throw away. It is important to keep guacamole simple and more importantly, dairy-free. Many Mexican restaurants will bulk up their guacamole with sour cream or yogurt and ruin the natural buttery flavor of the avocado. As long as your avocado is good and ripe, your guacamole will be great.

HUEVOS RANCHEROS CON GUACAMOLE
Makes 2 servings. Prep + Cook time= 8 min.
THE GUACAMOLE
* 1 ripe Hass avocado
* 1 garlic clove, crushed (optional)
* 1 small vine-ripe tomato, chopped and deseeded
* ½ medium (or 1 small) white onion, chopped
* ¼ cup corn kernels (optional, but adds nice color and flavor)
* 2 Tbl fresh cilantro, chopped (optional)
* juice of ¼ lime (be careful not to overwhelm your guacamole with too much juice)
* splash of hot sauce, your preferred brand

1) Slice the avocado in half and remove the pit. (If your avocado is ripe it is easy to remove the pit by hitting it with a sharp knife—watch your fingers—and wedging it out from there.) Slice each half into another half and peel off the skin. Place in a bowl. Using a potato masher or fork, break down the avocado meat, leaving it slightly chunky. Do not use a food processor or blender. This will pulverize and thin out your guacamole.
2) Add remaining ingredients and mix until evenly blended.
NOTE: My friend told me the restaurant uses red tomatillos. I have searched gourmet and regular groceries, Mexican delis, and my local fruit stands, but have never seen red tomatillos. I would like to say this ingredient is a lie, but I do know they exist. Use them if you can find them.

THE HUEVOS
* 4 eggs
* 1 Tbl butter

1) Just before starting the guacamole, get the eggs going. In a fry pan, melt the butter over medium-low heat. Crack eggs, cover tightly and allow to cook for 3-4 minutes until a light film covers the eggs but they are still gooey. Remove.

NOTE: I served these huevos with guacamole and salsa on the side. I added ¼ cup black beans to whatever salsa I had in the house (I believe it was an organic roasted tomato variety). The crushed ends of tortilla chips were mixed in eventually. One can substitute soft tortillas for the chips. Delicious.