Winter Harvest Dinner

Friday, February 03, 2012

Two weeks into my winter CSA share, I found myself confronting bags of turnips and carrots in my fridge, not to mention the onions, potatoes, and garlic in the pantry—plus a chubby buttercup squash on the kitchen counter. Possibilities were endless, but I decided to start out simply roasting the veggies while perusing cookbooks in search of a more creative way to use the squash.

Roasted Winter Veggies

a few of each: turnips, small yukon gold potatoes, and carrots, all peeled and chopped into bite-size pieces (well, I only peeled the turnips, it’s personal preference)
a garlic clove or two or three
half of a sweet onion, cut into chunks
small bunch of fresh herbs—I used rosemary, sage, and thyme scavenged from an overgrown neighborhood garden
2-3 tablespoons olive oil
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar (optional)
salt and black pepper to taste

Toss veggies with oil in a shallow baking pan, add herbs, and bake at 375F for approximately 45 minutes until veggies have softened (can be pierced by a fork) but aren’t mushy. I added a dash of balsamic vinegar about halfway into the cooking time just to add a little extra flavor.

While my veggies roasted, I peeled and chopped the squash and then got right to work on this:

Mole-Inspired Butternut Squash and Black Beans

Not authentic in the least, the mole-ish sauce inspired by Chili-Chocolate Mole in Veganonomicon by Isa Chandra Moskowitz & Terry Hope Romero adds a wonderful complexity to the ordinary mixture of squash and beans.

3-4 cups black beans (I soaked mine overnight and cooked them right beforehand)
1 buttercup squash, peeled, seeded (save the seeds for roasting!) and cubed

for the sauce:

¼ c sliced almonds
2 T sesame seeds
2 tsp anise seeds
2-3 tsp ancho chili powder
1 tsp red chili powder
2 tsp ground cinnamon
¼  tsp ground allspice
1 T brown sugar (optional)
1T cocoa powder (melted dark chocolate would be better if you have it)
2 tsp coffee granules (optional)
2 tsp molasses (optional)
3-4 garlic cloves, chopped
small onion, diced
1 T olive oil
1 can diced tomatoes

Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and toast the almonds, sesame seeds, and anise seeds until fragrant, about 2-3 minutes . Remove from pan and set aside. Saute garlic and onions in olive oil until soft, then begin to add the spices, sugar, coffee, and cocoa powder, stirring often for several minutes. Add the diced tomatoes and molasses, and when bubbles form, reduce heat and simmer 5-10 minutes, adding a little extra water or vegetable broth if the sauce seems too thick. Then combine the sauce, black beans, and squash in a casserole dish and bake until squash is tender. Top with roasted squash seeds and serve.

Viva La Rutabaga!

Thursday, February 02, 2012

February is Rutabaga Challenge Month at Farm to Philly!

Let’s face it: rutabagas are fugly—they sort of look like waxy, oversized turnips…on a good day. Most people don’t know what a rutabaga is or what it’s used for, a theory I put to the test recently when I point-blank asked a handful of people to tell me about the root vegetable.

So what is a rutabaga? It is, indeed, related to turnips—it’s a cross between turnips and cabbage, and it’s an excellent vegetable that’s in season NOW. Sometimes you might seen it sold as a “yellow turnip.” They’re good for you, nutritionally speaking—lots of beta carotene, a good source of fiber, and you even get a nice boost in vitamin C, calcium, and iron. And they’re versatile: you can eat them cooked or raw. You can also eat rutabaga leaves.

No doubt you might be wondering why rutabagas are covered in a wax covering, right? It’s an issue of extending the vegetable’s storage life. Because rutabagas are not the most sought-after vegetable ever, grocery stores need to keep them from going bad. A wax covered rutabaga kept in the refrigerator will keep for up to two months. If you take special care of your rutabagas—stored at 32 to 35 degrees with 90 percent humidity—you can store unwaxed rutabagas for up to six months.

If you’ve always wondered how to cook a rutabaga or just want to prepare them in some different ways, be sure to check back at Farm to Philly throughout the month.

From the Last Person on Earth to Try No Knead Bread

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

I’m probably the last person in the world to have taken to Jim Lahey’s No Knead Bread, I know.  I made a few attempts back when Mark Bittman first wrote about it in 2006, but they were all failures.  I have no idea why, but they were. (Bittman revised it two years later.)

So, after additional failures with Peter Reinhart’s bread recipes, I decided to give Lahey another try.  Please note that the common element among my attempts at the three recipe-writers – Bittman, Lahey, and Reinhart - is me, so I think the evidence clearly suggests that my baking is deficient rather than their recipes. 

Happily, my latest cracks at Lahey’s method were far more successful.  There have been many, many comments about Lahey’s recipe all over the internet, so I’ll keep my comments to a minimum.  In fact, I have only two contributions of my own.

One, whole wheat needs water.  Lahey’s whole-wheat bread recipe is actually 300 grams of white bread flour to 100 grams of whole-wheat bread flour. I’ve been slowly attempting to increase the amount of whole wheat; right now, I am at 250 grams of white to 150 grams of whole wheat.  I’ve noticed that I need to add additional water (20-30 grams) to properly hydrate the dough.  If you’re interested in increasing the amount of whole-wheat flour, make a couple of loaves of white-only, until you have a good sense of how wet the dough should be.  You should then be able to increase the whole wheat and water with confidence.

Two, shaping is key.  After the 18-hour rising, Lahey advises that you shape the dough into a ball.  The accompanying picture, however, suggests something different.  What I’ve found is that if you lay the dough out, pat it into a rough square, and pull on each end and fold it into the middle (I do each side at least twice), you greatly increase the surface tension.  It’s very similar to method of shaping ciabatta, which is another “wet” dough.  The shape of your dough, and final loaf in turn, will be more square than circle, but I find that that has its own appeal. 

Ultimately, Lahey has given me a recipe I can easily make during the week.  I don’t think twice about making a loaf (or two) after work on any given day.  For home cooking, what more could you want?

My Favorite Root Vegetable

Monday, January 30, 2012

I’ve never been able to understand why so many people dislike beets, since ever since I was a kid, I’ve loved their sweetness and their fun ability to turn everything they touch violently pink.  Another fantastic thing about beets is that they’re still in markets this time of year, like many other root vegetables, and if you can find them with the tops still attached, you also get a nice bunch of tender, mild-flavored greens for use in another meal.

Roasting is by far my favorite way to cook beets, since it concentrates their flavor and prevents them from going watery, as they would be if boiled. Here, they’re combined with French lentils and herbs as a topping for whole wheat pasta, mixed with locally-produced fresh goat ricotta.  You could use a creamy blue instead of the ricotta, since both beets and lentils can easily stand up to a more aggressive cheese.  This would also make a nice vegan dish without the cheese, although in that case it would be a good idea to add back some of the pasta cooking water along with the olive oil and herbs, for extra moisture.

Whole Wheat Penne with Goat Ricotta, French Lentils and Roasted Beets
Serves 4

2 small bunches of beets
1/2 cup French lentils
1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves
2 tablespoons garlic-flavored olive oil
1 1/2 tablespoons sherry vinegar
8 ounces whole wheat penne
4 ounces fresh ricotta, preferably goat
2-3 tablespoons fresh oregano leaves
3-4 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper to taste

Cut the tops off the beets, wash any dirt off, and wrap each one tightly in foil.  Place on a baking sheet and roast at 400 F until easily pierced with a sharp knife.  Let the beets cool enough to handle, then peel and cut into half-inch dice.

Boil the lentils until tender, then drain and mix with the roasted beets. Dress with the garlic olive oil, sherry vinegar, salt, pepper and fresh thyme.  Taste and add more oil or vinegar if needed.

Boil the penne in ample salted water according to package instructions, being careful not to overcook. Drain and toss with the ricotta, oregano leaves, salt and pepepr, and enough olive oil to moisten everything.

Plate the penne, and mound the lentils and beet salad on top.  Allow diners to mix the pasta themselves, as the bees will turn the pasta magenta if mixed ahead of time.

Membership Drive: Winter Harvest

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Bob Pierson and the good folks at Farm to City are looking to increase enrollment in the Winter Harvest Buying Club.  Their goal is 300 active members.  If you’re not familiar with it, Winter Harvest features over 500 items and 20 pick-up locations.  It’s a godsend in the winter - when you’d rather be inside than making a pilgrimage to the Reading Terminal.  I’ve been a member since November 2005, and without it, the winters would be that much darker.

If you’re interested, click here to enroll. 

On Notice!

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Just a couple of things to take note of:

• Interested in urban foraging? The Wild Foodies of Philly has regular meet-ups. There’s an event on February 5 that takes place right around the Philadelphia Museum of Art—expect Indian strawberry greens and chickweed!
• The 2012 Philadelphia Auto Show’s Black Tie Tailgate on January 27 will apparently feature some locally grown/produced foods—specifically locally made cheeses. There’s a Farm to Table Harvest Station, but the menu doesn’t indicate if anything being served is from local farms. Tickets are $225, but the proceeds (approximately $100 from each ticket) benefit the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.

Herbalists in Wonderland

Thursday, January 19, 2012

I apologize if I’m going a little overboard on this herb kick, but every week the power of these plants continue to amaze. After spending an entire week battling a cold with a thyme tincture three times a day, nettle/echinacea/ginger tea twice a day, and eucalyptus aroma therapy everytime I took a shower, I’m now feeling great. I won’t say that herbs cured me, but I will say that they eased the effects of the cold and allowed my body to naturally fight off the germs. And after a week of strict regiments of herbal therapy, I treated myself to a healthy herbal indulgence. No, not that conventional indulgence you may be thinking of. It was this indulgence you can see in the picture below.

What’s brewing in the tea kettle is kava infusion. Not the kind of kava that you buy in a Yogi Tea box. This kava is the actual root, chopped up and properly prepared with a warm water steep to fully get the effects. Kava is a very sacred and ceremonial drink popular among Polynesian and Micronesian peoples. The tea has a calming quality, almost like alcohol, but without the complete loss of those ever important motor skills that help with your coordination and good decision making. The scene that you see was set up by our local herb club which we call The Collecting Collective. Sorry about how dark the picture is, but that was the mood of the night. With the hanging tapestries and red lighting the scene was reminiscent of an arabic lounge. After taking my tea upstairs, the scene took on more of a Hong Kong opium den. Spread out over the entire floor were people sprawled out on pillows, sedately sipping their kava tea and puffing on spliffs rolled with an assortment of herbs (sorry marijuana was not present). My favorite was the calendula, mugwort, mullein blend. Not only did the mugwort give me some intensely vivid dreams, but the mullein actually soother my throat. It may seem counter intuitive to smoke something when you have a sore throat, but the native americans have been doing this for generations to cure bronchial problems.

Aside from the very relaxed scene and the euphoric effects of the tea, I think my favorite part was breaking away from the confines of alcohol and tobacco that people predominantly imbibe to unwind. As it goes with many things, you run into nothing but trouble when you take too much of one thing. By exploring herbs and integrating them into different aspects of my life, whether medicinal or recreational, it makes me feel good to know that there are hundreds of options out there to heal and to imbibe. So do some research and give it a try. And next time you need to calm down with a smoke, try an herbal cigarette, and next time you need a drink, find something a little more creative than alcohol.   

A Midwinter’s Cake

Monday, January 16, 2012

My aversion to sweet wine has probably meant that I neglect Italian desserts more than I should.  After all, this aversion to sweetness may conflict with Vin Santo, but it should mean an affinity for the cakes, tarts, and pies that Italians create to accompany those wines.  The affinity explains why I chose to make this bustrengo; the aversion why I neglected it in the past.

In Jamie’s Italy, from which this recipe was adapted, Jamie Oliver compares this to a French clafoutis.  The resemblance is undeniable, but I prefer the grit and heft (not to mention taste) of the polenta to the flour-only clafoutis.  Naturally, I’ve made some changes to the recipe in order to use local ingredients.  The dried figs were from my freezer, dehydrated and packed away last August.  The cranberries and maple sugar were from the Fair Food Farmstand.  The breadcrumbs were leftover bits from my own bread, and although widely available in local form, I chose white spelt flour over white all-purpose flour simply because that’s what I had.  Likewise, rather than use whole milk and the zest of oranges and lemons, I used buttermilk because, again, this was what I had, but I also realized the acidity of the buttermilk made the zest superfluous (i.e., less work).  Having previously made the bustrengo with zest, I can honestly say I didn’t notice the difference. 

If this seems like a lot of work or ingredients, keep in mind that most of the preparation can be done while the oven pre-heats - especially if you’ve prepared the breadcrumbs in advance.  In fact, you’re likely to spend more time waiting for it to cook than you are making it. 

Serve as breakfast on a midwinter morning alongside a steaming cappucino.

Philly CowShare: Share the Beef!

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

There are a million reasons to avoid buying from the grocery store when it comes to meat—the way the animals are treated, commercial production practices in terms of the environment, concerns about hormone use, etc. And some of us at Farm to Philly prefer to buy meat from local growers for those reasons, too. We also like that the food miles associated with local meat are seriously diminished. Luckily, it’s easy to buy locally grown meat in Philadelphia—whether you buy from the Fair Food Farmstand, direct from the farmer, at farmer’s markets, etc., we have access to everything from chicken to veal. However, there’s also another option we don’t see too much: the animal share. In case you didn’t know, we’ve got one in Philly CowShare. Last year, their first year in business, they sold fifty-five cows.

Philly CowShare offers locally grown, grass-fed beef shares at a variety of price points, the lowest of which is an eighth of a cow, or 40 lbs of beef. Oh, and if you go in on a whole cow with seven of your friends, you get a discount (Jessica Moore, one of the people who runs Philly CowShare, tells me that the meat isn’t discounted; rather, you get a discount due to a reduction in shipping charges). In addition to a variety of cuts (which are shared equally) and ground beef, you can also request bones, fat, and offal. Moore mentioned that the act of purchasing a whole cow tends to create a sense of community, and people often get together for cook-outs and meals that include cuts they get from th share, which is a nice side effect of the program.

Philly CowShare is attempting to redesign the normal supply chain of how we get meat. Their pillars of sustainability include:

• Financial (so the farmer makes a fair profit, but the cost of meat is still affordable)
• Environmental (which supports sustainable farming and better treatment of animals)
• Consumptive (CowShare issues a call out to consumer, asking them to eat sustainble meat, eat less meat, and eat whole animal)

In allowing Philly CowShare to be the middle man, it also frees up a farmer’s time. Moore calculated that if a farmer needs to sell a hundred cows (typical of a mid-size operation), assuming the need is eight people per cow and the farmer takes an hour with each customer, it would take five months to talk to everyone. Oy.

Unlike a regular CSA program, you can order a share at any time. Note, though, that it takes four to five weeks after a cow is butchered to deliver the meat—all the beef is dry-aged, so it takes a while. Right now they’re purchasing cows from three farms: Erdenheim Farm, Tussock Sedge Farm, and Herrdale Acres. They’re planning to add two to three additional farms in 2012.

Oh, and more exciting news: they’ll be adding pig shares in late spring/early summer 2012, along with grilling boxes consisting of hamburgers and hot dogs. Keep an eye on the Philly CowShare website or their Twitter account for that announcement.

If you’re a stickler for certified organic, Philly CowShare may not be for you—the people who run the program monitor the farmers, to ensure they’re using sustainable, hormone-free, and environmentally friendly growing practices, but they do not require a USDA organic certification (which can be cost prohibitive to small farmers) to participate in the program.

Your Friendly, Local Herb Club

Monday, January 09, 2012

I often surprise people when I reveal that I prefer the winter months. It must stand to reason that since I grow food, being confined to the house while the earth freezes and the plants wilt must be torture. But it must be the writer in me that finds a sort of refuge while I’m locked in my office, forgoing the world outside. And just when I feel at complete peace in my cocoon, we get a sixty-degree day like we did this past weekend, and all of the sudden my body cannot resist the urge to be out in the sun with my hands in the soil. It’s a co-dependent relationship that I’m constantly coming to terms with.

So to stay sane, I try and maintain a few projects in the winter that keep me connected to the earth in its deep freeze. Some days it’s dealing with the chickens, other days it’s tinkering in the greenhouse. But at least once a week, my favorite communion with the gods of nature is at our community herb club. The meetings are convened by local botanist and native plant hunter Zya. Armed with a few field guides and an appreciative understanding of the role herbs play in our ecosystem, each week Zya teaches us about a selected group of herbs. One week she’ll make an herbal infusion (I learned right off the bat not to call them teas because tea is it’s own specific leaf) out of thyme, hyssop, and raspberry leaf. Other weeks we’ll make tinctures like the juniper berry tincture we made last week.  I’ll admit that in the past the concept of making tinctures and infusions seemed like some supernatural, unattainable alchemy. But as I’ve come to find out, the ease of doing this is sometimes the most awing part. Just this past week we made a juniper tincture by:

Finely chopping up one cup of juniper needles (ours were harvested from the beach in New Jersey) and put in sterile mason jar
Mix with one cup of gin (sometimes people use vinegar if they don’t want the alcohol. But make sure the vinegar is warmed as it begins the steeping process)
Store in cool, dark place for 3-6 weeks (or for vinegar, much shorter, like 14 days)
Once it has steeped, strain the liquid through a cheese cloth

And there you go. You have a tincture with a shelf life of 1-3 years. You can even put the liquid in a little dropper bottle to give it that medicinal feel. But that’s only half the fun.  The other half is finding all of the cool things juniper berries are good for. At herb club we learned everything from the functional, like drinking Juniper tincture is good as an anti-inflamatory in your system to treat urinary tract infections (although it was said that over dosage can actually lead to more inflammation) or rubbing the tincture on your skin to cure warts or athletes foot, all the way to the fantastic, like the burning of Juniper needles in the cleansing of sacred spaces (actually, Zya told us that burning or smudging Juniper on your skin can get rid of body odor). And yes, on the equinox I plan to burn a bonfire of Juniper branches that I need to trim in front of my house, and stand over it while the gods cleanse my body.

But the most awing thing that we learn every Monday from Zya is of the important role that herbs have played in our bodies since the beginning of time. Now, I’m not advocating that herbs always be used in place of modern medicine for serious medical ailments. But by understanding the power that herbs possess, and by integrating them into your life, both your body and your mind will be the healthier for it. I’m sure this was probably all said on the tab of your Yogi Tea bag, but why don’t you get a few friends together and a book about herbs, and try it for yourself.

Winter Carrots to the Rescue

Sunday, January 08, 2012

Now is about the time I start thinking about spring—and it’s not just the batallion of seed catalogs popping up in the mail. I start to get tired of potatoes and other root vegetables, all the stuff that I canned or froze the past summer. I want something to eat with bright colors and flavors.

That’s when I break out my favorite carrot soup recipe. I noted on Twitter the other day that I planned to make it, and someone tweeted me back: “How do you make soup out of just carrots?

Oh, ye of little faith. Most people forget about carrots when it comes to winter vegetables. You can often find them at winter farmer’s markets, and if you grow them at home, you can generally leave them in the ground in the fall (with a little protection during colder winters) until you need them. And it’s not like carrots are usually considered the star of the show—maybe you throw them in soup as part of a miripoix, maybe you chop them up and throw them in a meatloaf or something.

I’ve seen lots of variations of carrot soup—usually paired with ginger and pureed until smooth. I prefer soup with a little bit more body, and this recipe fits the bill for me. I tinkered with it, of course, because I just can’t leave well enough alone. Most of the ingredients can be sourced locally, and the flavor is fantastic: hearty but bright.

2.5 lbs. of carrots (trimmed, peeled, and chopped)
half of a red onion (chopped)
2 cloves garlic (minced)
3 cups chicken stock
1 cup heavy cream
4 Tbsp butter
1 pinch of saffron threads
1 pinch of sugar
1 Tbsp. salt
.5 cup sour cream
4 Tbsp. cilantro (chopped)

Combine in a stockpot: carrots, onions, garlic, saffront, sugar, salt, butter, and 1 cup of stock. Bring to a simmer and then cover, cooking over medium heat while stirring occasionally for fifteen minutes or until most of the stock is evaporated. The carrots should be tender.

Add 2 cups of stock and the heavy cream; bring to a simmer. Stir in 3 Tbsp. of cilantro, sour cream, and more salt to taste. Use a stick blender to puree roughly half the soup. You can also do this using a regular blender, of course. I I prefer the soup slightly chunky.

Serve with a drizzle of sour cream or yogurt, a light sprinkling of more cilantro, and a few curls of carrot.

There are other ways to enjoy carrots as a main dish, of course:

carrot risotto
carrot pasta with cream and mint
carrot timbales
carrot quiche
carrot curry

The Post-Christmas Fridge and Freezer Clean: Part II

Sunday, January 01, 2012

At some point during the holidays, I get tired of the left over roast beast and various side dishes that crowd the refrigerator.  As nice as it is to take a break from cooking, the desire to make something new and different wakes me out of my lethargy and compels me to pull out utensils other than a spoon to scoop something out of the tupperware. Feeling replenished from either sleeping in or taking such an extended break from cooking (perhaps both), I took it up again with an ambitious project: the turkey pot pie.

Pot pies may seem like classic comfort food, but they require a great deal of preparation, particularly if you make every element from scratch.  And it is my feeling that if you are going to bother, then you should bother with the whole thing, pastry crust and all.  So, working from this recipe, I fashioned a pot pie from Christmas turkey, long-harbored root vegetables in my vegetable bin, and one of the many containers of turkey stock (made after Thanksgiving) still cramming my freezer.  Now, having claimed to make the entire pot pie from scratch, let me hedge that by admitting I rarely make a pot pie and never do so in the space of a single day.  On day one, I prepare the filling and make the pastry crust.  On day two, I make the roux and assemble and bake the pie.  This both reduces the workload considerably and prevents me from rushing to use the pastry dough before it’s chilled. 

In this instance, I made substitutions and adjustments based on what I had on hand.  First, and of least consequence, I substituted turkey for chicken.  Second, rather than use pearl onions, I opted for leeks.  I generally prefer the milder taste and silky texture of the leeks, and because they are sliced rather than whole, they integrate more uniformly with the other elements.  Third, I never care for the peas, so I just omit them altogether, increasing the other vegetables by a small amount to compensate; I also omit the Tabasco here as it just seems silly (though I might try a bit of horseradish one of these days).  Fourth, rather than potatoes, I used parsnips I had long been neglecting.  There is something slightly acidic (not to mention the faint taste of vanilla) to them that complements the sweet carrots and cuts through the bland richness of the roux.  Fifth, as with any recipe, I used local Daisy Flour.  Rather than the white all-purpose flour in the roux, I used white spelt flour.  Rather than the white all-purpose flour in the pastry, I used whole-wheat pastry flour.  Additionally, I used all butter instead of the mix of butter and shortening in the pastry; had I any lard (available at the Fair Food Farmstand), I would have substituted that for the shortening.

The end result was certainly worth the effort.  Best enjoyed with a good local ale.  My favorite is Stoudt’s Scarlet Lady Ale.

P.S. To make yet another meal, I simmered the excess pie filling in additional stock and topped with these cornmeal dumplings.  Also best enjoyed with a good local ale.

Mushroom Goulash

Saturday, December 31, 2011

While we’ve been enjoying a mild winter so far, many long months still lie between us and spring. This is a great dish to combat the winter blues with, being so savory and warming, and locally grown mushrooms, onions and herbs are readily available even in this pretty bleak period for produce.  It’s also a great vegetarian (or vegan, if you leave out the sour cream and use all oil instead of a mix with butter) option for New Year’s Day or Super Bowl parties, easily scaling up to feed a crowd.

If you like it hot, you can substitute Hungarian hot paprika or ground chipotle for the Spanish smoked paprika below.

Mushroom Goulash
Serves 6-8

2 tablespoons each unsalted butter and olive oil
3 large or 6 small onions, thinly sliced
16 ounces cremini and/or white button mushrooms, sliced
1/3 ounce mixed dried mushrooms, reconstituted in one cup boiling water, then drained and coarsely chopped
1 1/2 tablespoons Hungarian sweet paprika
1/2 teaspoon Spanish smoked paprika
2 cups hot vegetable stock
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup sour cream
Chopped parsley for garnishing

Cooked egg noodles or rice

Melt the butter into the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat.  Cook the onions, stirring regularly, until they have softened and begun to turn gold, then add the mushrooms and continue cooking until they have begun to wilt.

Sprinkle the sweet and smoked paprikas over the onions and mushrooms, and continue stirring over the heat for a minute or two.  Pour in the stock, adding a bit more if necessary to just cover the vegetables, and salting lightly.  Cover the pot, lower the heat and simmer until the onions have broken down and the mushrooms are cooked through, 30-45 more minutes.

Take the pot off the heat and stir in the sour cream and parsley.  Taste and add more salt and pepper as desired, then serve over the cooked noodles or rice.

Leftovers can be gently reheated the next day, though if you use low-fat sour cream, it may look a bit curdled, which won’t affect the taste.

Give Liver (Pate) a Chance

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Liver pate gets a bad rap. Well, let’s face it: liver in general is reviled. I recently announced that instead of Christmas cookies this year, I made pate. It was universally met with a disgusted “ew!” It’s a shame. There’s nothing better than a good liver pate on water crackers. It’s smooth and delicious. It’s also ridiculously easy to make, and you can prepare it using almost entirely local ingredients.

Let’s start with the livers. You need about a pound of chicken livers, and you can get those from any local producers of chickens. Mine came from Friendly Farms. Sure, they look a little disgusting, but get over it. Oh, and soak them in milk for two hours. People say this is how you get the disgusting flavor out of them…personally, I’ve had soaked and unsoaked livers, and I can’t really tell the difference. I say it’s all in how you cook them.

But let’s assume you’ve soaked your livers in milk and you’re ready to get moving. What else do you need?

1 cup yellow onion, diced
2 Tbsp. garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
1 tsp fresh thyme, chopped
salt and pepper
1/4 cup of bourbon
4 Tbsp butter
4 Tbsp butter, cold and chopped into pieces.

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Saute onions for about 3 minutes; add garlic, and saute for 30 seconds. Toss in the chicken livers, bay, thyme, salt, and pepper and cook all this down for about five minutes—basically you want the liver to still be slightly pink inside. Add the bourbon and cook until the liquid is mostly evaporated.

Let the mixture cool, remove and discard the bay leaf, and then toss everything (but the bay leaf) into your blender or food processor, along with the cold butter. Blend it up until it looks like something you so don’t want to eat and adjust the seasonings to your taste. Pour into ramekins and refrigerate for at least six hours.

If you’re taking them to a party, you can seal the pate with clarified butter to keep it fresher.

Sycamore’s Chef Tasting

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Philadelphia and the surrounding areas are now seeing more restaurants than ever that focus on locally grown produce and meats. As someone who cares about that sort of thing, it’s a thrill to have Sycamore. around the corner from my house. The other day I received an email about their Tuesday night chef tasting, announcing there would be no set menu—Sam Jacobson, the chef, was heading into Reading Terminal Market that morning to buy up what looked good and would serve accordingly.

Well, I can never turn down a mystery dinner.

The theme ingredient (I’m giggling because I sound like the Iron Chef announcer in my head right now) was wild Maine lobster, which isn’t exactly local, but many of the ingredients in the dinner were. So what were the courses eventually served up?

• Lobster salad—persimmon, jicama, baby fennel, marinated Napa cabbage
• Tempura-fried lobster tail—crispy pork belly, kimchi aioli
• Fragrant lobster risotto—lemongrass, kaffir lime, scallions, crushed marcona almonds
• Buttered lobster with hen of the woods mushrooms—heirloom carrots, parsnips, turnip creamed potatoes, sambuca lobster sauce
• Local butternut squash crisp—cranberries, amaretto ginger crust, maple mascarpone

Yes, it was delicious. Then again, I’ve never had a bad meal at Sycamore.

Other than the butternut squash, I can hazard a guess about what else may have been local. Can you?

Coincidentally, I was thrilled to see the kimchi aioli on the menu. If you’ve been reading Farm to Philly long enough, you know I love to make kimchi. I may need to experiment with that aioli, see if I can make a passable fascimile! With cabbage and some radishes in season, now’s the time to pickle.

Sycamore
14 S. Lansdowne Ave,
Lansdowne, PA 19050