locavore

That’s why I haven’t had a cheese steak.

My brother, who’s been living in Philly for the last eight months and will most likely leave as soon as he wraps up his graduate program, when I saw him over the weekend and related to him something I had just heard from Allen Christiansen at the U Penn Maya Weekend.

Namely that, tangled up within contemporary Mayan conceptions of ancestry, is the very potent possibility that we come to know the things that matter -- histories, remedies, right ways of being -- because the blood of the ancestors resides in our blood and helps us remember these things.

But unlike the euro-centric idea of ancestry which is top heavy with begats and begottens, in the Mayan world view one isn’t born into ancestry -- ancestry is tethered to place.

Nine months is usually what it takes to make the ancestors of a place your own: a period of gestation in which you live there, eat the local food[1] and contribute to the community.

After that you are of that place and the ancestors are your ancestors -- and once the ancestors have got your back, baby: you're golden. (Provided, of course, you do your part with the prayers and the flowers and the offerings and stuff.)


[1] Corn tortilla is the food that matters most to the Maya -- it bears a powerful resemblance to the Catholic Host in their world view.

hot tomatoes, cold rice and the promise of summer to come

2 large, ripe, firm tomatoes
sea salt
peppercorns at the ready (you will grind them fresh when it’s time)
1.5 cups Arborio rice
8 tbsp extra-virgin olive oil, divided + some more for drizzling
2 garlic cloves, finely chopped
2 tbsp chopped Italian parsley leaves
2 tbsp chopped mint leaves (oh yes. stay with me.)
2 tbsp chopped basil leaves
4 anchovies, coarsely chopped (still here?)
3 tbsp bread crumbs (homemade are best, of course) toasted

Halve the tomatoes horizontally and, using your fingers, gently remove some of the seeds to create a series of hollow impressions. Salt the tomatoes and turn them upside down on paper towels to drain for 20 minutes.

Cook the rice in abundant salted boiling water, like pasta, until al dente. Drain well. (I usually strain it in a fine sieve and rinse it under cold water). Transfer the rice to a bowl. Toss the rice in 4 tablespoons of olive oil and season with salt and pepper to taste. Let cool.

In a small bowl combine the garlic, herbs, and anchovies. Moisten with the remaining 4 tablespoons of olive oil. Lightly oil a baking dish large enough to contain the tomatoes without crowding them. Arrange the tomatoes in the baking dish. Stuff the herb mixture into the cavities of the tomatoes. Sprinkle the tomatoes with the bread crumbs and drizzle with a few drops of olive oil. Bake in a preheated 450 oven for 12 minutes, or until the tomatoes begin to soften but well before they lose their shape.

Divide the rice among 4 dinner plates, smoothing the rice so that it forms a bed for each tomato half. Remove the tomatoes from the oven and center a tomato half on each plate of rice.

Take a bite that mingles the hot tomato and the cold rice. Be delighted and amazed.

Serves 4. Unless you get greedy.

Freely adapted from the incomparable Viana La Place’s Verdura.

popular girl dip

Posting the dip recipe because all the ink has just about worn off the recipe card that my former mother-in-law passed along to me many many years ago when I was still married to her son.

The dip recipe, modeled after a hot artichoke dip that was served once upon a time (and may well still be) in a pub in Boulder, Colorado, must be preserved because it's the sort of dip that instantly makes one popular at parties where everyone's expected to bring a hot dish.

Just this week I offered it up for a Hanukkah party and received the emailed reply: I LOVE THE ARTICHOKE DIP!!!!

So that's what we'll be bringing.

It's also nearly entirely made up of highly-saturated fats -- which means it'll kill you quick if you consume too much.

But you'll die popular.

1 large can of water-packed artichoke hearts
8 oz. cream cheese (or cheat and use the Neufchatel)
1/2 cup mayonnaise
1/2 cup sour cream (don't cheat here. there's nothing more horrifying than imitation sour cream.)
1 cup Parmesan cheese
garlic to taste

Cut up artichoke hearts to your liking and mix together in a large bowl with the garlic and saturated goodness.

Bake at 325º for 45 minutes.

Serve with some kind of carbohydrate engineered for dipping. Crunchy French bread works; crackers do too.

to tamale or not tamale

Congratulations! You are now part of the few, the proud, the tamale cooks. You will notice that your life will be instantly different. You will be popular. People will invite you over. As you walk up to a crowd of people, you will hear someone say, "Isn't that the Tamale cook?" Yes folks, your simple life will never be the same. You have arrived. Please remember to be kind to the little people.

From http://www.sonofthesouth.net where I also learned that Goya is the Tamale Queen »

Trying to work up the nerve to make tamales for Christmas. Although to be honest, my tamale friends, I'm not entirely sure I can afford the overhead »

making soup

Good soup takes time. From the moment you decide you want a little soup, to the moment you sit down to enjoy it, a good twenty-four hours or more really should pass if, truly, the first words from your mouth on tasting your soup are: “That’s good soup.”

Which isn't to say it's impossible to toss together a pot of soup in a hurry and have a reasonably sufficient meal. But it takes a day for that soup to mellow into the rich wisdom one expects from a good bowl of soup. So save a little for later.

If it’s chicken soup you want you should first roast a chicken. Since soup is your ultimate goal you’ll need to ensure some leftovers from this first stage of soup making, so if you’re pretty sure your clan will pick the bones of one chicken clean on the first night it's served for dinner, you may want to roast two.

I like this recipe, from The New Basics, but any will do. The goal is to have leftover roast chicken by the time you’re done.

chicken with garlic, lemon, and rosemary
2 heads garlic
1 large onion
1 roasting chicken ( 4 to 4 1/2 pounds) with its giblets
1 teaspoon dried tarragon
salt and cracked pepper to taste
2 lemons, halved (Meyers are magical, if you can find them)
6 small sprigs fresh rosemary
2 tablespoons unsalted butter you can get by with just the olive oil, if you prefer
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 cup stock (I use veggie bouillon)

Remove the paper-like outer skin from the garlic heads and separate the cloves. Don’t peel, but do clean.

Cube the onion. (Or sliver it, if you prefer.)

Sprinkle the cleared cavity of the rinsed chicken with tarragon and salt and pepper. Place the lemons and the rosemary in the cavity and tie the legs closed if you like (I don’t).

Brown the chicken in the olive oil in a big dutch oven, turning it gently with wooden spoons trying not to break the skin, about 8 minutes on each side. Remove the chicken, scrape up the cooked bits, toss in the onion and garlic and the giblets (but not the liver. saute the liver real quick and give it to the cat. he'll love you for it. Charlie did.). Stir it all up and set the chicken back on top.

Pour on the stock, lower the lid (or seal it up with aluminum foil).

Cook covered for 30 minutes at about 400F / 200C (the recipe calls for 350F / 180C, but I find it comes out more moist if you start it off super hot and the lower it down for the last little while). Then uncover and cook for another hour or so, basting regularly.

Eat it up when it’s good to go, serving it with the pan juices, onions and the garlic cloves, which you can squeeze out of their skins onto french bread. If you thought about it you probably roasted some potatoes or sweet potatoes in the oven at the same time, and tossed up a green salad.

Yum.

Come time to do the dishes leave the dutch oven as is. Discard the lemon and the rosemary and pick off the left over chicken meat and refrigerate it for now -- but not all of it. Leave some on the bones to simmer -- because now you’re going to make some chicken stock.



The remainder is adopted from Jane Brody’s Turkey Carcass Soup -- rigged, really, to accommodate Thanksgiving leftovers. Works either way.

For the stock:

Break the carcass into pieces
Use any pan juices that look palatable

Roughly chop and add:
2 onions
2 ribs of celery unless you intensely dislike celery (I do)
2 carrots
1 turnip
1 leek
1 clove of garlic
bouquet garni of parsley, 1/2 teaspoon thyme and 1 bay leaf (tied up in a cheesecloth)
Enough water to cover the whole mess

Bring to a boil and simmer for 2 to 3 hours. Refrigerate overnight (in the same old dutch oven, if you like) so that you have an opportunity to skim off the fat that rises to the top.

Heat it up and then strain the stock. (Brody suggests picking off the additional meat and removing the bones, pureeing all that remains to freeze and use in future stews. I can’t testify to how successful this might be, because I’ve never tried it.)

Now you’re ready to make the soup. You’ll need:

1 small onion, minced or chopped how you like it
1 clove garlic, minced
a splash of olive oil
1 cup carrots, diced or chopped how you like them (I like larger pieces)
1/2 cup diced celery
1/2 cup chopped mushrooms (or more, if you live with lovers of mushrooms)
1 1/2 tablespoons flour
1 teaspoon marjoram
6 to 7 cups of the stock you just created
the chicken (or turkey) you saved
1/3 cup raw barley or rice or sub in Manischewitz egg noodles and/or Matzo Balls

Saute the onion and garlic until soft.

Add the carrots, celery and mushrooms, cook down for another five minutes or so.

Add the flour and cook about a minute -- so that it transmogrifies from “floury-mess” to “roux-like thing”.

Add the stock, marjoram and salt and pepper to taste. (If you're using rice or barley add it now. If you're using noodles hold off for a little while yet.)

Simmer for another hour before tossing in the leftover chicken and the noodles. Simmer aggressively for another 10 or 15 minutes to ensure the chicken’s warmed through and the noodles are tender.

If using matzoh balls, follow the steps on the back of the Manischewitz box. (It's a breeze and a treat -- especially if you've never had matzoh balls before.) If you're feeling like a maverick toss on a splash of hot sauce, like Tabasco or Frank's Red Hot. (I'm partial to Frank's.)

A sprinkling of parsley is nice, too.

Enjoy.

chutney

My sister's chutney recipe, which is really Iron Bloomers' recipe, via the magic of the Internet. (Although the haberno swap is all mermaid.)

Because @martingruner is looking to use up a whole mess of apples.

btw? Seriously good on scrambled eggs.

Ingredients

• 2 quarts chopped cored, pared tart apples


• 2 lbs raisins


• 1 cup chopped onion


• 1 cup chopped sweet red pepper


• 4 cups brown sugar


• 3 tablespoons mustard seeds


• 2 tablespoons ground ginger


• 2 teaspoons ground allspice


• 2 teaspoons salt


• 1/2 of a habanero pepper


• 1 garlic clove, crushed


• 1 quart vinegar

Directions
Combine ingredients; simmer until thickened about 1 hour and 15 minutes.

Stir frequently as it thickens to prevent sticking.

Pour boiling hot mixture into hot pint jars leaving 1/4-inch head space.

Adjust caps and then process 10 minutes in boiling water bath.

Note: For milder chutney an additional 1 quart of apples may be added.

chilled chopped lamb chop salad

Just pulled together a salad from leftovers that was an amalgam of ideas from all over: julienned romain from the classic chopped salad; cold rice and sweet corn from a salade Niçoise that I had once in Amboise; a mint vinaigrette adopted from the New Basics cookbook; and a hard-boiled craving for meat on my greens.

It made me happier than I have a right to be, and I wanted to share.

chilled chopped lamb chop salad
serves 2 to 4, depending on your appetites

chilled grilled lamb chops, leftover from last night’s dinner with friends -- as many chops as you need to feed the hungry people at the table (I was working with 5. we bought way too many.) bet this would work with hot, freshly grilled lamb, too.

a vine ripened tomato, chopped

three stems of fresh mint, chopped

one head of romaine lettuce, julienned

1/4 cup rice wine vinegar

olive oil -- 1/2 cup for the vinaigrette; a splash for the rice

2 tablespoons dijon mustard

1 cup arborio rice

1/2 cup sweet corn, frozen (or right off the cob, if you've got it)

salt & pepper

Cook the rice in rapidly boiling water, just like pasta. Toss in some salt and a little bit of olive oil. It should cook up in about 10 or 15 minutes -- sample periodically with a slotted spoon and when it’s *just* shy of al dente toss in the sweet corn.

Continue to boil briefly until both the rice and the corn are just right. Drain in a sieve and spray it down with cold water. (I used the spritzer from the sink, tossing the rice and corn in the sieve to make sure I got it all -- you could probably also submerge it quickly in cold water and then drain.) The goal is to cool the rice down to arrest the cooking.

Drain off the last of the water and toss the corn and rice with a splash of olive oil, salt and pepper, and set it in the fridge to chill for a little while.

Wash, spin and julienne the romaine leaves.

Cube the leftover lamb chops. Give Charlie a few scraps. Listen to him purr.

To make the vinaigrette: Whisk together the dijon and vinegar, then whisk in the olive oil. Add a pinch of sugar, pinch of salt and a sprinkling of fresh cracked pepper. Stir in the chopped mint and tomatoes.

Toss the cubed lamb with the vinaigrette, then toss the lamb with the lettuce, saving a handful of lamb off to the side. You’ll use this to top off the salad.

Divide the lettuce among salad plates. Spoon the cold rice on top of the lettuce, making a small mound in the center.

Top with the remaining lamb and sprinkle with grated parmesan. A sharp soft goat cheese would be nice too.

Eat it up, yum.

a suttonhoo original