Meatless Monday: Peach Paradise

Last week, in honor of National Peach Month, I presented a few facts about the much-loved peach, which arrived in this country, like so many good things, from somewhere else.

I had just purchased my first till of local peaches of the season. They were ripening on the counter as I wrote. I promised to let you know what I made with them. The answer is – Paradise!

Paradise is the Joy of Cooking’s version of fruit crisp, found in the 1973 paperback version on page 607, under the title Fresh Fruit Crisp or Paradise. Paradise it is — easy to make, and simply delicious, especially when warm. And the JoC version uses about half the butter of most other crisp recipes. 

My dog-eared and grease-stained copy of the Joy of Cooking, by Irma S. Rombauer and Marion Rombauer Becker, was once my only cookbook. Today I still return to it for three essential recipes — Paradise, Rich Sour Cream Coffee Cake (made with Greek yogurt and wheat germ in my version), and brownies Cockaigne, IMHO the only recipe to use when brownies are required for a crowd. 

Now, back to Paradise. The recipe is below – Original instructions followed by my tweaks in brackets.

Paradise, warm from the oven, crunchy and brown on top.

FRESH FRUIT CRISP or PARADISE

• Preheat your oven to 375° [350° if using a pyrex dish]
• Peel 4 cups tart apples, or the same amount of peaches, slightly sugared rhubarb, or pitted cherries. [5 large, just ripe, peaches]
• Slice into the baking dish or pie pan. [9 inch square pyrex dish]
• Season with two tablespoons lemon juice or kirsch, optional. [Sprinkle with 2 tablespoons lemon juice.]
• Measure into a mixing bowl the following:
• 1/2 cup all-purpose flour [1/4  flour + 1/4 cup quick oats + 1/4 cup chopped pecans]
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar [dark]
• 1/2 teaspoon salt, if using unsalted butter [Omit in either case.]
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon, optional [NOT optional]

• Stir together to combine.
• Cut 1/2 stick butter into small pieces. Combine with dry ingredients using your fingers until the mixture is crumbly.
• Spread over the peaches.
• Bake for 30 minutes, until bubbly.
• Serve warm, with sweet or cultured sour cream [One scoop of vanilla ice cream, or a dollop of whipped cream. Cabot’s from a can is fine.]

May you find the time to enjoy a taste of Paradise this week…

Paradise in a serving dish, but not for long…

Happy Monday. Thanks for reading. 

I often blog on food, food issues, or topics related to growing things on Monday in support of Meatless Monday, one of several programs developed in the Healthy Monday project, founded in 2003 in association with Columbia University’s Mailman School of Public Health, Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and Syracuse University’s Newhouse School of Communications. Meatless Monday’s goal is “to help reduce meat consumption 15% in order to improve personal health and the health of our planet.”

Meatless Monday: Salsify Makes a Comeback

Happy Monday everyone.

In 2010 celeriac (aka celery root), the chubby root vegetable with a pale and hairy visage, made the jump from farmers’ markets and specialty food shops to the produce bins of large supermarkets (at least here on the East Coast). Perhaps 2011 will be salsify’s year to make a comeback.

Only in Eataly have I tasted this root vegetable. It was early in November, the height of salsify season. Batons of Salsify was the only item that my cousin and I could not identify on the description of the antipasto plate. Rather than admit our ignorance, we decided to go for it. We were not disappointed.

The batons looked like baby carrots, only paler and not quite as plump. They had been braised until firm but not crunchy in texture and had a deliciously subtle taste. We could not imagine what form they had assumed when they were whole, but it was fairly apparent that salsify was a root vegetable.

Let me tell you the story of salsify, gleaned from cookbooks and googling. 

Salsify is indeed a root vegetable — long and tapering. Thomas Jefferson is said to have grown it. Scorzonera has a black skin; there is also a lighter-skinned variety with a grayish tinge. 

Salsify’s season is Fall to Winter. Late last year it could be found at a few green grocers in the New York boroughs, but this formerly favored root has not yet found its way back north and east to New Haven.

Renowned chef James Beard included salsify in his magnum opus American Cookery (1972): “Salsify was a popular root vegetable for many generations and then suddenly seemed to drop into disrepute. It was originally called oyster plant because it was said to have the flavor of oysters— so much so, says Mrs. Rorer [author of a 1902 cookbook often referenced by Beard], that vegetarians made Mock Oyster soups. The claim for its flavor I have never found to be true.” I would agree with chef Beard. I did not taste the oyster. Beard suggested scraping and boiling the roots (in “acidulated water” because the roots turn color almost immediately after peeling), and then provided three suggestions for serving: dressed with butter; sliced in a cream casserole; or puréed, combined with beaten eggs into salsify cakes, and then fried. James Beard is long gone, but his memory lives on at the foundation named after him. On this page of the foundation's blog you can learn more about salsify and see some celebrity top chefs featuring it in their recipes. 

The Joy of Cooking (1973 edition) urged readers to plant seeds for scorzonera if they plan to grow their own and advised that the roots taste best after being stored for several weeks at a temperature “just above” 32°. Once again there was advice about ways to avoid discoloration, including a suggestion to cook the salsify before peeling it. The Joy offered two recipes — one for salsify in cream sauce, the second for salsify fried with a cornflake coating.

A third cookbook in my collection — Fannie Farmer (1981 edition) also gave a brief reference to salsify. In this case salsify was described as a good accent in stews and meat pies and as a vegetable accompaniment to a variety of meat dishes. The recipes are basic — boiled and served with butter, or mashed with cream and butter. Fannie described the flavor as being “a little like oysters.” That’s more credible. 

None of the post 80s cookbooks in my collection made any mention of salsify. I did find this contemporary (in time and in taste) recipe for Damon Wise’s Pan-Roasted Salsify online. It actually sounds quite like what I ate at Eataly.

Now all I need are some roots. It has been suggested that salsify is a gardener’s plant — and that the best way to ensure a supply is to grow your own [or perhaps to get someone with a garden to grow some for you.] Heirloom seeds can be found at a number of sites such as this one. The variety in each case seems to be Mammoth Sandwich Island Salsify. 

The smell of dirt and spring is such a nice thought today. [It’s  2 PM. It’s under 13°. This is way too cold for the Connecticut shoreline…] 

Check back next Monday so I can tell you about my mushroom farm.

I try to blog on food or food issues each Monday in support of Meatless Monday, one of several programs developed in the Healthy Monday project, founded in 2003 in association with Columbia University’s Mailman School of Public Health, Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and Syracuse University’s Newhouse School of Communications. Meatless Monday’s goal is “to help reduce meat consumption 15% in order to improve personal health and the health of our planet.”

Meatless Monday: Learning to Deal with Kale

Something happened over the weekend:  the Meatless Monday site now lists me as a blogger-on-board, top right if you care to look. In appreciation, I’ve resolved to give my blog a bit of a schedule and to post on Mondays on a food-related topic on a more regular basis. So please bookmark this link (or mine), and check in every Monday for a new recipe or idea. While you’re at Meatless Monday, be sure to look on the site’s home page for the week’s featured recipes and the latest news on food issues, and to check out what some of the other bloggers have on their minds.

Today’s topic? My history with kale.

Kale is one of those good-for-you foods that I wish came with an instruction manual. It is only recently a part of my cooking repertoire, and then only after a lot of trial and error. I grew up in a Sicilian/Yankee household in a suburban Boston town. Kale was not something my dad grew in his garden. Nor was it something anyone I knew ate.

I have no memory of kale in the supermarket until the last decade or so. And I know (because I checked) that it was nearly absent from my first cookbooks. My 1973 Joy of Cooking (the same edition that describes how to cook woodchuck) gave kale a brief mention in a one-paragraph entry “About Greens,” which included a generic recipe that involved simmering a 2 lb. side of meat for 2 hours and then adding 2 lbs. of any of the aforementioned greens and simmering for 40 minutes more. Kale is not even listed in the index to the first Recipes for a Small Planet.

It was in the ’90s (I recall) that kale became a ubiquitous garnish on the restaurant plate where the lettuce used to be—for its beauty and durability I imagine. Not one to waste food, I usually ate mine, but unlike my experience with golden beets, I did not find myself craving more.

Sometime in the last 5 years, suddenly (or so it seemed to me), everyone from Dr. Oz to my friend Maggie, physical therapist to the aging, began extolling the benefits of eating kale. Kale has joined the short list of Super Foods! Among its many super traits is its high content of readily-absorbed calcium. I’m one to try any means possible to ward off osteoporosis, so my interest was piqued. And then I discovered that, unlike some other super foods, kale is kind to the pocketbook. A hardy crop, it is available everywhere from farmers markets to the supermarket for most of the year. And it won’t break the bank to buy it in the organic variety.

I decided to give it a try.

Experiment 1: I bought a small amount of kale at the supermarket, washed it well, chopped up the leaves, and added it to a salad. Too tough. Too much chewing. The kale got stuck in my teeth.

Experiment 2: I bought a larger bunch of supermarket kale. I washed it well and steamed it whole like swiss chard. No one told me the stems would stay that tough. I needed a knife to eat this dish.

Experiment 3: I bought some kale at the farmers market from a young woman who suggested I chop it up and sauté it in olive oil with some onion. This was better, but the stem was still too tough.

Experiment 4: I bought some kale at the farmers market. I washed it well. I removed all the tough stems. I chopped it and sautéed it with onion in some good olive oil. I added some fresh tomatoes (roughly chopped). This was pretty darn good served with some artisan bread.

This dish tastes even better than it appears.

Experiment 5:—Success, finally! Kale Stew with Tomatoes and Aromatic Spices. I bought a large bunch of organic kale—a dark, curly variety—at Whole Foods. I washed it well. I coarsely chopped a large yellow onion and minced two cloves of garlic, which I then sautéed in a large stainless steel skillet until they became soft.  I removed the stems from the kale, chopped the leaves, and added the kale to the pan, stirring until all the leaves were coated with the oil. I turned the heat down, covered the pan, and cooked gently until the kale was tender. I then added a 28 oz. of crushed tomatoes (I like Whole Foods Organic 365), and 2 teaspoons of Penzey’s Chili 9000 powder, which contains a long list of spices including ancho chili pepper, cumin, cayenne pepper, and cinnamon. (A good curry powder would probably serve as a fine substitute, but I am really fond of the way the 9000 tasted.) I then simmered the mixture, partially covered, for 1/2 hour of so until it became thick like a stew. I checked it for taste and added just a pinch of sea salt and a few grinds of black pepper. I served it over my favorite organic Texmati rice with a good dollop of Greek yogurt on top for a perfectly balanced meal. This is a delicious and hearty dish that an omnivore, or even a carnivore, will love.  

For more kale recipes, check out this site. Have no fear of failure. I’ve told you the most important hint. The kale stems belong in the compost pile, not on your plate!

I often blog on food or food issues on Monday in support of Meatless Monday, one of several programs developed in the Healthy Monday project, founded in 2003 in association with Columbia University’s Mailman School of Public Health, Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health and Syracuse University’s Newhouse School of Communications. Meatless Monday’s goal is “to help reduce meat consumption 15% in order to improve personal health and the health of our planet.”

Woodchuck Wednesday

A tale of three neighbors and a woodchuck (Marmota monax, aka Woody) who lumbered over a fence from one yard to another.

In the relatively quiet neighborhood of Beaver Hills, nestled between downtown and Westville in New Haven and known for its fine single-family homes, the woodchuck population is on the rise. Woodchucks (also commonly known as groundhogs as in Punxsutawney Phil, prognosticator of Spring’s return) have been dining in our friends’ gardens for years and are a common sight in Beaver Ponds Park, a few short blocks from their home. Over time our friends have modified their garden to suit Woody’s tastes — planting their tomatoes in hanging pots and in the ground growing only things in which Woody has no interest — primarily raspberries, herbs, and garlic. You see, one year Woody took up residence under their backyard shed, and despite all their attempts to make him feel unwelcome, he decided to call the shed his home.

This Spring Woody had a family, and pickings in this yard were too slim to support them all. Woody climbed some fences, did some exploring, and discovered two adjacent yards full of things he loved — tender veggies and sunflowers. One fine day he left mama and the babies behind to visit the garden next door. The neighbor had been away for two weeks. When he returned and saw the damage Woody had wrought, he became enraged. He owns a shotgun. He was ready and waiting for Woody to lumber over to his side. BAM — a shot heard ’round the ’hood! Woody was no more.

A second neighbor, also a victim of Woody’s passion for local produce, came running over to investigate. He happily took Woody home, skinned him, and cooked him for dinner.

Woodchuck is considered a delicacy, at least by some. In my well-worn edition of the Joy of Cooking (1973 edition) there is a section on “Game” with recipes I have read but never tried, including instructions for cooking woodchuck. On page 454, Irma Rombauer cautions the reader to “remove 7 to 9 small sacs or kernels in the small of the back and under the forearm.” She continues to explain that after “soaking overnight in salt water you can then cook by any recipe for rabbit or chicken.” A recent post “Cook thine enemy” at the Winona (Minnesota) 360 site explains that these sacs are scent glands. The author, Peggy, includes a recipe for and photo of the woodchuck fricasseé she prepared from the woodchuck her husband brought home (as well as photos of the naked and dressed woodchuck meat).

But before you hatch any plans for getting your own fresh “chuck,” you better check the firearms laws in your place of residence. Woody’s shooter did not need a license for his shotgun. But to hunt in Connecticut, a permit is required. Even with a permit, there is a hunting season. More importantly in this instance, there is a 500 foot rule — “It is prohibited to hunt with, shoot, or carry a loaded firearm within 500 feet of any building occupied by people or domestic animals.” The distances are far smaller in this neighborhood.

Unless you want to face criminal charges, I suggest using legal methods to rid yourself of these pests. I have read about how difficult they are to drive away, and I know they are clever enough to avoid Havahart traps (Woody’s eater was unsuccessful there). Since woodchucks have not yet made their way to East Rock/downtown where I live, I have absoultely zero experience in dealing with this problem, but my research has turned up one product that sounds promising. If you don’t yet have resident woodchucks, or if you can manage to drive them from your yard for a short while, perhaps Shake-Away groundhog repellent is the answer. This product is a powder made of fox urine that when sprinkled around the perimeter of your property is purported to have the same effect as if a fox had “claimed” the area as his own, thus creating a “wall of fear” which will keep the groundhog away. This sounds ideal as long as humans can’t smell it, as long it doesn’t require re-application after every rain, and, of course, as long as groundhogs are absent when the product is applied. Otherwise they will be afraid to leave! Good luck to all you gardeners in Beaver Hills is all I can say.

My thoughts on the subject? I sympathize, but NIMBY. I’ve bookmarked the Contech Scarecrow Sprinkler, which “scares away all invading outdoor critters with a blast of water and sound” just in case. It covers approximately 1200 square feet. I’m sure my human neighbors will love that.

And, for those of you pining for woodchuck meat, perhaps you should contact Peggy in Minnesota. She seems to have plenty.