But does he do fire escapes?

"Mycological landscaping" by a grower of organic mushrooms!
Open Minded Organics (via this article).

corn season is almost over!

I want to post this recipe for Corn with Ginger while there's still summer corn available. It's from Madhur Jaffrey's World Vegetarian, which I can't recommend highly enough. I've never been disappointed with any of the recipes I've prepared from it, and it also has incredibly helpful information about basic preparations for just about any vegetable or grain you can think of. This recipe is one of my favorites — aside from being delicious, it's healthy and really easy to make. It's highly seasoned so you could probably use frozen or canned corn without feeling cheated, but as long as there's still fresh local corn by all means use that.



Before the recipe, a brief note to those people who peel back the tops of the ears of corn at the market: Stop that! What exactly are you looking for, anyhow? If you are looking to see whether there are any creepy-crawlies, or whether the kernels are nice-looking, the top inch or two of the ear is not going to be dispositive. Exposing it, however, will dry out and ruin the entire ear. Bad, very bad. "Exposing the kernels to the air simply dries them and accelerates the conversion of sugars to starch that begins when the ear is harvested." In other words, you are prematurely aging the corn. I'm sure my readers would never do such a senseless thing, so let's move on!

Jaffrey notes that this recipe is "surprisingly good over a bowl of steaming polenta (corn over corn, yes, but very good) or stuffed into pita bread. It goes well with dried bean dishes and green vegetables. The corn may also be served cold, as a salad." I have always meant to try it with polenta, but somehow I end up making rice instead. This time I used a new find, a mixture of basmati rice and green and yellow lentils that I got at Dowel, my local Indian grocer. If you want to try making your own blend I think it's about 2/3rds rice and 1/3 lentils. (Any lentil that cooks in 20-30 minutes should work, and it's nice to add a bay leaf or a couple of lightly-crushed cardamom pods to the pot).


Corn with Ginger

[comments in brackets are from me]

• 2 tablespoons peanut or canola oil
  
• 1 teaspoon whole cumin seeds
  
• 1 teaspoon finely chopped peeled fresh ginger
  
• 1 1/2 cups (12 ounces) peeled and chopped very ripe tomatoes or canned tomatoes with a little of their juice [red or orange tomatoes are visually the nicest with the corn; this time I used a yellow summer squash because I'd eaten all my tomatoes]
  
• 1 teaspoon salt
  
• 1/2 teaspoon sugar
  
• 3 cups (1 pound) corn kernels taken from 3 to 4 ears of freshly shucked corn (preferably Silver Queen), frozen defrosted corn kernels, or canned drained corn kernels
  
• 1 fresh hot green chile, finely chopped (optional) [I used a jalapeño]
  
• 3 tablespoons coarsely chopped fresh cilantro [I didn't have any this time but I did have scallions that needed to be used]

Put the oil in a medium frying pan or sauté pan and set over medium-high heat. When it is hot put in the cumin seeds and let them sizzle for a few seconds. Stir in the ginger and cook for 30 seconds. Put in the tomatoes and stir for 5 minutes, letting the tomatoes reduce slightly. Add the salt, sugar, corn, and optional green chile. Reduce the heat to low and cook, stirring now and then, for 5 minutes, or until the corn is just done. Finally, add the cilantro and toss to mix well. Serve hot, at room temperature, or chilled.

building a better list:the Committee arrives at its first meme fashionably late

I was really happy to discover that Ann of the lovely A Chicken In Every Granny Cart tagged me to participate in this project started by Melissa of The Traveler's Lunchbox. Basically, the project is an opportunity for food bloggers to rectify the absurdly general and dull list of "50 things to eat before you die" that was compiled by the BBC, which appears to have been earnestly crafted so as not to arouse many longings amongst prisoners and/or persons residing at polar research stations. Number 5, for example, is "Chinese food." Thanks Beeb; I'll be sure to ask for that next time I order from Grand Sichuan. Those wacky Brits also inexplicably left their own awesomest cheeses off the list — no Stilton, no Double Gloucester, no Shropshire Blue, and no Cheddar!

As I write this, the improved list submitted to A Traveler's Lunchbox has swelled to an amazing 735 items. Here's my 5:

1. Scrambled eggs made the proper French way. They bear little resemblance to quickly-cooked, typical American scrambled eggs; they are so creamy and elegant that I think they should be considered an entirely distinct dish. Here is a Daniel Boulud recipe for them. It includes black truffles, but if you don't roll that way you can leave them out.
   
   
2. Cultured butter. It has character and a depth of flavor that supermarket butter will never even come close to, and it deserves to be as widely appreciated and in-demand as artisanal olive oil. I am not going to be churning my own anytime soon but Bobolink Dairy has an intesting explanation of how to do so here. They also have adorable cows and some of the best cheeses I've ever tasted.
   
   
3. A hamburger from Harry's Drive-In. Obviously not everyone will get to Colchester, Connecticut in their lifetime, so let's just say a burger like the ones made at Harry's: excellent fresh ground beef, sizzled to a crisp on the outside and just cooked on the inside on a very very hot, preposterously bustling griddle (the photo on the Roadfood site does not do justice to the massive, fragrant piles of burgers, hot dogs, and sliced onions being flipped and pushed this way and that of my childhood memories), and eaten on a paper plate at a picnic table in an out-of-the-way little town.
   
   
   
   Both photos are from the Roadfood write-up for Harry's.
   
4. An American Thanksgiving dinner. It's hard to muster a lot of enthusiasm for this one in August but I can't leave it off my list. I think that the people who claim to not be fans of roasted turkey are doing something wrong with theirs, and I think the essential accompaniments are individually and jointly wonderful. I've noticed a few international readers in my sitemeter (ciao, namaste, etc.!) so I'll explain the components. There should be: (a) A well-browned roasted turkey that was selected with care, preferably ordered from a local farm. When I was little, the week before Thanksgiving meant a ride to Grayledge Farm, where turkeys could be seen wandering around happily doing whatever turkeys do. (I think the farm is in the lower Connecticut river valley - either they keep a very low profile or I'm not spelling it right, because I can't find much information on them). The turkey should be large enough to provoke oohs and ahs, and to provide leftovers for many turkey sandwiches the following week. (b) At least one type of stuffing or dressing. There's a lot of leeway here but I think it should have sage in it. I haven't tried this recipe but it looks like a good one. (c) Mashed potatoes. They should be made with plenty of butter and preferably some family secret to perfect them (e.g., celery salt - so good!), and should not be too smooth if you have a family member who professes affection for lumps (or "potato rocks") in them. (d) A vegetable side dish, or two or three of them - roasted brussel sprouts, roasted parsnips and turnip puree are very nice. (e) Homemade gravy made from the turkey drippings. I've never made this myself because my mom makes an excellent gravy; maybe now that I have a blog I'll finally ask her to show me how. (f) Cranberry sauce. It is somewhat common for there to be two on the table: a homemade version made by simmering fresh cranberries with sugar and savory seasonings, and an ugly, quivering jellied one from a can to satisfy those who grew up with it and developed Thanksgiving Stockholm syndrome. For dessert there should also be (g) at least two pies. Pumpkin pie, sweet potato pie and pecan pie are favorites. Mincemeat pie deserves a larger following, and an apple pie would of course be entirely appropriate.
   
   
5. Spicy chocolate. I am not much of a chocolate fan (my cravings are far more likely to be for something salty, not sweet) but I really enjoy foods that surprise, and the combination of dark chocolate and a small amount of chile pepper is a gratifying one. There are many intriguing combinations I'd like to try — Vosges Haute Chocolate's Aztec truffle with ancho chili, Woodhouse Chocolate's quatre-épice, Dagoba's Xocolatl bar — so far, though, my favorite is a chocolate and black pepper cake that was published in the New York Times a few years ago. I've made it several times since then it has always been a pleasure. I have always served it with a lavender crème anglaise from The Gardeners' Community Cookbook and I'm going to keep doing that until I tire of the combination around age eleventy or so, but a berry coulis or simply a dusting of powdered sugar would be great too.
   
   Chocolate Black Pepper Cake
   
   NY Times, Dec. 29, 1999
   
   6 tablespoons unsalted butter plus more for pan
   10 ounces best quality bittersweet chocolate, chopped
   ¼ cup sugar
   ¼ cup honey
   ½ teaspoon kosher salt
   5 eggs, separated
   ½ cup ground almonds
   ⅓ cup flour
   2 teaspoons coarse-ground black pepper
   ½ teaspoon allspice
   ¼ teaspoon cinnamon
   pinch cayenne pepper
   pinch salt, for whipping egg whites
   powdered sugar, for sprinkling
   unsweetened whipped cream, for garnish
   
   1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Butter a 9-inch springform pan.^* In a double boiler, melt butter and chocolate, stirring constantly, just until chocolate is melted. Remove from heat. Stir in sugar, honey and salt, then egg yolks. Transfer to a large mixing bowl. Whisk in the ground almonds, flour, black pepper, allspice, cinnamon and cayenne, just until combined. Do not overmix.
   
   2. In a large bowl, whisk egg whites with a pinch of salt, until they hold stiff peaks. Using a rubber spatula, fold 3/4 of the egg whites into chocolate mixture. Pour chocolate mixture into remaining egg whites and fold gently, just until there are no clumps of egg white. Pour into prepared pan. Bake until firm and springy, 30 to 35 minutes.
   
   3. Remove cake from oven; cool completely on a baking rack. Remove sides from pan, sprinkle lightly with powdered sugar and serve slices with whipped cream.
   
   * Note: I've never used a springform pan; I've always used a domed, oval cake pan with a design on it and have never had a problem with the cake sticking.
   
   

we're back!

Vinalhaven was as lovely as ever. I wish we could stay as long as our neighbors there do ("until it gets too cold to sit on the toilet seats"), but I haven't been at my job long enough to push for working from afar and grudgingly returned home on Monday. It's really difficult to get to the island — the Maine State Ferry will only let you make a reservation for your car exactly 30 days in advance, and then only reserves spots for 4 cars on each ferry, which means that unless you are mindful of dates and adept with speed-dial you need to put the car in line the day before you want to take the ferry. The process for returning is a bit more of a hassle (!); if you don't have a reservation someone needs to get the car in line the night before around 3 or 4 a.m. and wait for the woman to come out of the office at 5:30 with her clipboard and assign you a number. This process, along with the fact that there's no cell phone service on 99% of the island and there is an active land trust organization to keep a sharp eye on development, seems to do a good job of keeping away the sort of people one goes to Penobscot Bay to get away from.

We rented the same cabin that we did last year. It's down a dirt road and surrounded by water on three sides, with no other houses visible except for distant farmhouse. We hiked a lot, and we spent a lot of time sitting on the deck drinking wine and watching the birds (osprey, bald eagles, kingfishers, a few others). There's not much else to do there if you're not a lobsterman and that's fine with us.


looking West from the bridge on the way to Lane's Island nature preserve

a view from the trail at Lane's Island

the hiking trail in the Huber Preserve brings you to Seal Bay

and the trail in the Williams Preserve brings you to the Basin

The more we hiked, the more I got into photographing mushrooms:





There's a nice view from the deck at sunset . . .


but at night, it's just DARK.


Of course I ate a couple of lobsters -


and a few other tasty things -


and will be posting recipes this week and the next!

the Committee has gone on vacation

and will be back next week!

Is Wednesday too soon to name this week's bestest sandwich?

Brie, mint leaves, and sliced orange cherry tomatoes:


Of course it is still early in the week, and I have not yet returned to Nicky's Vietnamese Sandwiches, the bánh mì place in my neighborhood that I inexplicably did not try until recently.


This is the "Classic Vietnamese Sandwich": pâté, ham, ground pork, pickled carrot, cucumbers, cilantro, jalapeño, and mayo on a baguette.
I really think sandwiches are underrated. The limitations of the form — a couple pieces of bread + stuff that fits between them — can inspire creative combinations that maybe wouldn't make sense in another context, they're totally portable, and if you have to eat a meal somewhere slightly dodgy (ahem, a law firm cafeteria) the sandwiches are usually the least-screwed-up option. I suspect someone at Food & Wine agrees with me on this, because their recipe archive includes tons of delicious-sounding sandwiches. Here are a few I want to try:

• Open-Faced Fried Egg, Asparagus and Guanciale Sandwiches — a Nancy Silverton recipe. The asparagus is cleverly roasted on top of thyme sprigs.
  
  
• Grilled Fontina, Mushroom, and Sage Sandwiches — these will be good when it's cold enough outside to start wearing sweaters.
  
  
• Summer Squash Sandwiches with Pecorino Butter — perfect for right now. The recipe does not call for salting the squash in an effort to draw out the water in it but if you were packing these for a picnic that would probably be a good idea. A recipe in one of my previous posts explains how.
  
  
• Bouillabaisse Sandwiches — halibut fillets, tomatoes, piquillo peppers and shaved fennel with saffron mayonnaise.
  
  
• Seared Pork and Pickled Eggplant Panini — a witty Italian-ish version of the classic Cuban sandwich from chef Barbara Lynch. The eggplant replaces the sliced pickles, and Taleggio replaces the Swiss cheese.
  
  

this Sunday's farmers' market

Or "greenmarket," if you are a fellow Manhattanite. (The Tompkins Square Park greenmarket, to be precise). I tried to not get too ambitious with my purchases this week because it appears that I'll be working a lot and won't have much time to cook. I'll have time for tomato sandwiches, though!


Organic heirloom tomatoes.

How sad these photos will make me in the middle of winter!

Orange cherry tomatoes from the same farm.

I also picked up a few other things:


peaches

yellow wax beans, which for some reason I had been craving all week

a purple bell pepper

some sort of small, yellow summer squash

hard-neck garlic

Ronnybrook Farm Dairy salted butter

I love their cultured butter too but they didn't have any this week

free-range eggs from Stannard Farm

as well as some of their bacon,
which was promptly turned into breakfast

Stannard Farm had flowers, too!

a tiny, unexpected feast: part 2 — in which Tiny Banquet rassles with unfamiliar greens

With the plum tart and marinated summer squash complete, it was time to figure out what to do with the puntarelle.


I had been thinking I would simply chop it up and add it to a fritatta, but I tasted a leaf after I washed it and wow, it was really bitter. Was it supposed to be cooked?

I looked in The Silver Spoon but there was no mention of puntarelle under "greens" or "chicory." (I later noticed that it is briefly mentioned in the section on dandelion greens, but there is no recipe specifically for puntarelle and I'm still not clear on its relationship to dandelion greens). I then went to the Food Network, hoping that there would be a Mario Batali recipe explaining how to use it. There are three, and each one calls for soaking the puntarelle in ice water for ten to fifteen minutes. Grazie, Mario! After its immersion the puntarelle was still bitter but now quite edible.

While my greens were soaking I tried some Manouri cheese, a Greek sheep and goats' milk cheese. It's a bit salty, but less so than feta, and the texture is similar to chèvre. It's delicious and fresh-tasting and would be excellent for breakfast or dessert too, drizzled with honey.



Now that the puntarelle was presentable I got started on the fritatta. (Frittata?) I am hoping that having a food blog will give me a bit more perspective on what works and what doesn't when it comes to fritattas, because at this point I make them often and each one is my new favorite, my new this-one's-the-best-one. They're a great way to use up small portions of vegetables, herbs, and cheeses that otherwise might go bad before they can be eaten, and they taste as good at room temperature as they do warm.

The particular combination of ingredients listed below worked really well together: The bitterness of the greens was well balanced by creamy ricotta cheese and spicy turkey sausage from DiPaola Turkey Farms (available at the Tompkins Square greenmarket on Sundays; I'm not sure of their Union Square schedule), and mint and summer savory are both superb with eggs.

this week's BFF (best fritatta forever)

1 to 2 teaspoons olive oil, plus an additional 2 tablespoons or so for cooking the egg mixture

6 to 8 ounces turkey sausage (not in casing)

6 to 8 eggs

salt, freshly ground pepper, freshly ground nutmeg

1 to 1 1/2 cups chopped puntarelle (arugula, watercress, baby spinach or just about any green that doesn't need cooking would be a fine substitute)

chopped fresh herbs of your choice (I used about 1/2 cup of spearmint — loosely packed — and two teaspoons of summer savory)

1/2 cup ricotta cheese (crumbled fresh goat cheese would be a nice substitute)

Preheat the oven to 425° F. Heat 1 to 2 teaspoons of olive oil over medium heat in a 9- or 10-inch skillet with an oven-safe handle and cook the sausage, stirring to break up the meat, until it is lightly browned (2 to 3 minutes). Remove the cooked sausage from the pan and set aside.

While the sausage is cooking, beat the eggs in a medium-sized bowl and season with salt, pepper, and freshly ground nutmeg.

Remove the cooked sausage from the pan and set aside.

Wipe out the skillet and return it to the stove. Add the eggs and cook over medium heat until they just begin to set on the bottom (less than a minute). Using a fork or silicon spatula, pull the edges toward the center of the pan, tilting the pan to distribute the runny parts evenly. Sprinkle the greens, the herbs, the sausage and the ricotta over the eggs and stir lightly. Continue stirring as needed until the mixture is nearly firm (3 to 4 minutes).

Transfer the pan to the oven and bake until the top is set and lightly browned (about 4 to 5 minutes). Serve immediately or at room temperature.


Fresh summer savory.

If you store your nutmeg with a tiny grater
it is no less convenient than the pre-grated kind.

The finished fritatta.
With the marinated summer squash and startlingly good plum part for dessert, this unplanned meal turned out to be a memorable one.

I am not going to show a picture of the finished tart in its entirety because the grated almond paste became, um, less than photogenic while it cooked. Viewed by the slice, its not so bad. The taste, however, was extraordinarily good. The plums remained very tart because I'd used so little sugar; I haven't got much of a sweet tooth at all so feel free to double the quantity of sugar to 1/4 cup should any of you decide to try it, but for me the tartness was perfect. The plums melted into the consistency of preserves, and the almond paste and lavender enhanced their flavor without stealing the show.