CSA Week 3 Notes

CSA Week 2 Haul. June, 2008. photo Jenonymous/Group News Blog.

“Closer to my reality” CSA Eating

Okay, this past week, I had what I’ll call a “closer to my reality” CSA eating experience. As mentioned, this past week’s share was:

Veggie Share
strawberries
sugar snap peas
butter lettuce
radishes
mizuna

Now here’s the rub—not only did I eat out one night during the week, but I was out of town Friday thru Sunday. So, how to eat all my stuff without wasting it? Well, I re-did the rinse/dry/store in lined bowls thing for the lettuce, and left the snap peas in their bag (and made a note to just eat them faster.) I left the strawberries uncovered in their little cardboard thingie and just set the radishes down in my crisper drawer, which once again I had lined with fresh paper towels.

Guilty TV Product Confession: I also went here:

www.greenbags.com

and got some of their stuff. The site is one of those TV product total rip-offs where they try to get you to upgrade shipping, but all kinds of other crap, and whatnot. However, I did also manage to get two of those things that open clamshell packaging, which I actually need.

www.packageshark.com

The irony is, of course, that they come in clamshell packaging. But I digress. Both lettuce and mizune are in those bags; let’s see how they work out.

And then it was off to the races with the salad thing again. This time around I had the herbed vinegar from week 1. So, it was time for salad with nice cheese on it, salad all by itself, and interesting things with radishes and the remainder of the Jerusalem artichokes (both of which I really had to take my veggie brush to—again, they didn’t just have surface dirt, but were really caked over.)

I was exhausted when I got home on pickup nite—mega-stress at work—but I did make a nice arranged salad which I just drizzled with some of that herb vinegar, heavy olive oil, salt, and pepper. Then I had strawberries for dessert. I also did a bunch of salads with either smoked or canned fish on it. If I remember, I’ll hard-boil some eggs and do those on greens. I should also probably try making herbed egg salad or something, or maybe crunchy egg salad with radishes/other crunchy edible root or rhizome in it.

I must say I’m happy about how much I have managed to replace my bought (high-fat, high crap factor) meals despite a nuts schedule. The way I see it, every little bit helps even if it’s only a few meals a week.

Note: The mizuna is great raw even though it is traditionally eaten steamed. For salad, I tore rough bunches into thirds so that the stems became manageable mouthfuls.

I still need to buy a lunchbox with one of those pocket-thingies for a coldpac—if anyone has a brand that they like, let me know!

Here’s what I am due to pick up on Tuesday:

Fruit Share
strawberries (1 quart)
honeycrisp apples (we got 4)

Veggie Share
lettuce
strawberries (more on top of fruit share)(one pint, so I get a biggie and a littlie)
Swiss chard
snow peas
lavender

Herb Share
sorrel
lavender (in addition to the first bunch from above)

In addition, my CSA lets you order meat, dairy, and so forth from a collective site online, with once-a-month delivery dates. In addition to my share, I ordered and got:

Beef Liver (about a pound)
Honey (a pound)
Raw-milk cheddar-style cheese (about half a pound)
Ground Mutton (making Minstrel Boy’s Navajo Green Chili) (about 2 pounds)
A dozen eggs
Swiss-style raw goats’ milk cheese (half a pound)

The game plan is to cook up some of the liver and freeze the rest. I have some really good breadcrumbs; may just slice it thin, bread, and panfry perhaps with an herb pan sauce.

Suggestions Needed For:

What to do with the lavender? Yeah I know, other than dry it and put it in with my unmentionables. I was thinking lavender cream for the strawberries and/or lavender vodka.

What to do with the sorrel?

I think I’ll cook down the mustard greens this time. Maybe have them with the liver.

Oh, one last thing—went out to Orient Point this past weekend in Long Island and stumbled across a jumble sale held by a local synagogue while walking to the train. Wound up getting two copies of the Temple cookbook for $15 for both copies (I always get super-local cookbooks when I can, and always get a copy for Mom) and…drum roll please…an almost brand-new, stainless-steel, American-made 2-quart food mill from the 1960’s in the original box for…wait for it…ONE DOLLAR. The thing is made like a TANK—one nut screws off to release a STRONG spring so that you can take it apart and wash it. The steel is at least 12 gauge—gotta go dig out my gauge-checker disc from jewelry class. Improved tomato sauce here we come! *cheers* I mean, it literally looks like someone got it, opened the box, took the original label off (there is still an old label on the main unit), washed it, maybe used it ONCE, washed it again, and put it away. Forever.

The rest of the sale was kind of sad because you can tell that it was all the crap out of old people’s basements that was taken out by their kids/grandkids after they died. If I was a circuit-bender, I would have had my full pick of various kid’s toys from the '70s. Ditto for interior decoration opps. Case in point: I also picked up a HUGE mother-of-pearl abalone shell—from one of the sized ones that’s been illegal to sell for years now. Unlike many of these that I’d seen in the past, this one had not been used as an ashtray. It was covered in a HARD coating of grey dust which took a soaking and scrubbing to get off, but now I have a nice place to put my little collection of nice pebbles and shells that I picked up on the beach for a grand total of $3. It’s the kind of thing that someone probably picked up on a trip to Hawaii or Mexico twenty years ago. All I know is that new abalone shells aren’t bigger than 6” or so (mine is almost a foot across) and start at $20 even in the smaller junk shops. But I digress…on to the recipes.

Here’s what I did with last week’s share that was new for me:

Recipes from the stuff from Week 2:

Sprat Salad:

Mizune
Butter Lettuce
Snap Peas
Small can of sprats (I used smoked sprats from Lithuania that were on sale)
Quick Mustard Dressing

Put down lettuce, then mizune, sprinkle with snap peas.
Put sprats on top.
Dress with Quick Mustard Dressing. Eat.

Quick Mustard Dressing:

In a small cup, combine a good splash of vinegar (I used about a tablespoon or two) (I used my herb vinegar) and stir in spicy mustard (a shy tablespoon).
Add some mayo (about 1/2 to 1 Tbs) and whisk very fast with a small fork until smooth and lump-free. Add black pepper and more salt if necessary. Use immediately.

Astorian Radish Rounds:

Take a whole wheat non-pocket pita—I used a locally-made brand. Spread with a thin coat of butter (I used my unsalted herb butter with oregano and sage). Slice radishes super-thin and put on buttered bread. Salt. Cut into 4 pieces and eat immediately.

Strawberries, Honey, and Black Pepper:

Clean and hull strawberries. Drizzle with good honey and add a grind of black pepper. Eat.

Herb Vodka:

Take home-dried herbs and the end of a bottle of vodka (or the whole thing if you feel adventurous) . You’re supposed to have another empty vodka bottle around to strain off the herbed vodka once it steeps. I didn’t do that and just use a small screen to filter the stuff when I pour. I used the bottom 1/6th of a bottle of vodka and put in about 1 tablespoon each of dried sage and oregano. I let it steep in the freezer. This was amazing as-is after three or four days but would probably also make a killer martini. Next time around I may buy the small hipflask bottles of vodka and make small batches of different herbal vodka. I will also try to get some cheesecloth and make a “teabag” that I can yank out of the bottle rather than mess around with filters and funnels and whatnot.

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Community Supported Agriculture

Produce, Virtual Farmer's Market, Westchester County, New York.

An Experiment in Health and Biodiversity with a Side of Crunchy Feel-Good Local Food Supply Promotion (CSA: Week One)

Hey there. Jen here. I haven't had much to say lately, but something fun worth sharing has started for me. Namely, after two years of trying, I have finally gotten into my local Community Supported Agriculture collective.

For those not in the know, a CSA is a sort of "next step" after local farmer's markets. Basically, it's like buying futures on the stock market but with fresh produce. Before the season begins, you buy a "share" at the CSA. There are only a set number of shares available for any CSA, depending on the size of the area serviced and how many farmers are participating in any one CSA. Some places have one flat share for everything that season (fruit, veggies, flowers, herbs, etc.) My particular CSA is the Hellgate CSA, which has lots of separate shares. I myself got the "full monty" of everything they offer this season: A veg share, a fruit share, a culinary herbs share, a basil share (4 drops of basil, I picked the weeks off of a calendar), and a tomato share (which I also chose the date for—let's just say that on 8/26 I'll be wondering what to do with 20 lbs. of mixed artisanal tomatoes—I see sauce). Once deliveries start, you show up once a week at an appointed time and place and pick up your share of…whatever the farmers collectively have in that week. Everyone gets an identical box of produce. The idea is that produce doesn't rot in the market if the weather sucks, and the farmers get their money up front. Lots of farmers now pre-sell most of their crop to CSA's and commercial versions for restaurants. It keeps small farmers in business even if the crops fail or don't produce as well as anticipated. In good years, everyone wins. It also encourages the planting of artisanal crops and heirloom varieties, as opposed to monoculture mass farming. So it's less likely that one farm's entire planting will fail if they plant 40 different things, even if it's 10 varieties of carrots, 10 of tomatoes, etc.

In addition to all of this, CSA members in my case get to order local meat, poultry, fish, dairy, bakery, preserved, and bee-produced products from a huge list of local providers on a special secure website that now (hallelujah!!) takes PayPal. Two Tuesdays from tomorrow I'll be getting some organic ground organic mutton (thinking real Navajo-style green chili) and a pound of raw-milk farmhouse cheddar-style cheese.

You have to pick up your own share; most don't deliver and won't hold a share for you. It's a commitment. In addition, many CSAs require you to work the distribution and sorting of at least a few distribution dates. (I was able to buy my way out of working 4 shifts, but I still have to pick up my stuff myself.) I see it as a commitment for myself to pick up my share each week (which means getting out of work at a reasonable time on Tuesdays no matter what, just like folks with kids and daycare arrangements) and to cook and eat it in a pro-health manner. If I can't squeeze out time for the gym, this is at least one step I can take which will force me to eat more fruit and veggies (and eat out less—more $ for important stuff like electronics, books, and perfume ;) .)

I first found out about the CSA 3 years ago when it was fairly new. I found out too late to join (all the spots were gone) but I got on the wait list for the FOLLOWING year (previous years' members are given dibs on a spot automatically; someone has to drop out for someone else to get in if no new spots are created.) Last year, I got a spot...sort of. Someone wanted to split a share, as some folks find a full share too much for one person. That meant paying a total stranger a largish amount of money and then counting on them to pick up the produce for us to split on "their" pickup day.

Then Gilly got really, really sick. I had better things to worry about—not my health, but his. His wake was two days after what would have been my first pickup.

I sent a polite email to the CSA management declining a half-share and explaining my circumstances; my spot was gone in 10 minutes. However, almost a whole year later back in April, some kind soul there remembered me and my story…and emailed me immediately when a spot became available for this year.

So, in a rush of enthusiasm, I dropped a fair bit of coin on six months of fresh produce—first pick up is tomorrow; last one is the week of Thanksgiving. I am dedicated to not wasting any of the goodness, even if it means brown-bagging it to work (which is probably a much better habit to get into anyway as the food at the office sucks.)

I already have a locally-published green market cookbook as well as a slightly tonier tome, both courtesy of Amazon's Z-shops. However I am open to suggestions and in fact am actively soliciting them. I'm going to try to send along what I'm going to get each week (apparently we find out on Monday) and what I wound up doing with the prior week's drop.

Here's what I'm supposed to be picking up this Tuesday—not sure what kinds of quantities we're talking:
Share for June 10, 2008

Veggie Share
strawberries (surprised that this isn't in the fruit drop but I guess they're ready now so here they are)
curly peppercress
Jerusalem artichokes
spring onions
lettuce

Herb Share
flowering sage
oregano

Fruit drops start in two weeks.

Here are my ideas so far:

• Eat the cress as-is, as much as possible
• Poach the sunchokes; eat some fresh also; site for CSA also has recipe for a salad
• Eat the strawberries as-is unless I have a ton of them in which case I may make a cobbler for a party I'm going to this weekend (may do this anyway)
• Make my garlic slaw with the spring onions and use the rest to cook chicken with the herbs
• Herbs: I was going to make herb butter but may just pick up some white vinegar and make more-healthy infused vinegar and/or olive oils instead. Okay, I may make just a little sage butter and freeze it. Eat the flowers off the sage in salad if they are not too strong.

Any other ideas, folks?

Also, I got (probably) ripped off ordering those special "keep your produce fresh" reusable plastic bags. Anyone got a favorite brand/maker of these or other "how to keep your fridge from eating your veggies before you do" solutions?

Thank you again everyone for your support and input.

--Jen

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One Year Later

Gilly Bear on Steve Gilliard's hospital pillow. photo by Jenonymous Feb 25, 2007.

A Food Post for the Stomach and the Heart and the Mind

Hey everyone. This feels strange writing this right now. I tried for the past few weeks to try to think of something meaningful to write. At first I thought of a food piece, and then a political piece, and then a health piece. Then something happened that made me want to do all three. I got inspired over this past Memorial Day weekend. I couldn't help but think about what Gilly would have posted. I put off thinking about the post and kept pushing it to the back of my mind. Then, on Monday—after a four-day weekend—I got a surprise and very much welcome spur-of-the-moment invite to a friend's house to partake in a small family get-together and bbq. I had been out taking pictures at the park; I had been in all weekend sleeping and killing zombies online, and needed the fresh air. Then my cell phone went off, the invite came in, and I found myself running back to my apartment to grab a bottle of decent red and my jacket, then out to the bakery for some dessert, and then on to the subway to the far end of the outer boros.

On the train all I could think about was the Blog-a-Ques that Gilly and I would go to every summer. I thought of the dessert and the wine—would he have approved? We used to bring loads of food with us whenever we got invited to anything, and used to coordinate ahead of time. I remember grilling with him under the Brooklyn Bridge, on the Brooklyn side, the Labor Day before 9/11.

It's 9 PM now. I just got in; I'm typing in my work clothes. I'm going to go change and keep typing. Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares is in re-runs on BBC America. Gimmie a minute. I need to change and wash off my makeup and get a drink.

*aaah.* Better. Gilly actually "got" my infatuation with Ramsay; he said that if he ever wrote a book on management he'd buy it and read it. But I digress.

Back to food and memory. So, I was at this BBQ and towards the end of the evening, the hostess (who was familiar with Gilly's body of work) said something to the effect that "Gilly would have never supported Dem candidate X." And suddenly, the evening came into very sharp focus.

"No, we can't say what he would have thought NOW," I said.

And that, dear readers, is Important Point Number One I am trying to make with this post.

As much as we all love and miss him, we have to remember that nobody can say what he WOULD have done or whom he WOULD have supported.

HE'S GONE.

His troubles are over, but so is his active work.THAT is the tragedy here.His voice was silenced prematurely, and we will never know just what a strong voice he may have become, especially in this election.

We'll never read the book he was having me help him with the pitch letter for.

Still, these are selfish thoughts in a way.Gilly also missed out on all of the other things he wanted to do for himself.

I remember, before he went in for that second surgery, the one that he didn't get out of the hospital from, I was trying to give him a pep talk.I wanted him to envision himself as a healthy man, so that he could make real plans for the future and take some real care of himself. We talked about that on the day when I went to give him the bear in the picture.

"So what are you going to do, Gilly, once you get well and get that kidney?"

"I'm getting the money together from somewhere and going to England and seeing Manchester United play their home turf.First thing."

During the two times that I went to Europe while I knew him, he asked me for only one thing—home team footie jerseys from the city I was in.I still have a ManU knockoff from Thailand that Gilly gave me when he went and sprang something like $130 for the real item.

Here was a man who was so erudite, so well educated, so knowledgeable…and he hadn't ever even left the US. Come to think of it, I don't think he ever even went on an airplane. Really. I vaguely seem to remember him saying he'd been on one once ages ago, but that's it.

Imagine what he could have done had he taken that trip, seen a bit of the world?

We'll never know.

Which leads me to Point I am Trying to Make Number Two:

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELVES. IF YOU HAVE A HEALTH PROBLEM, DO NOT MAKE EXCUSES. DO NOT LOOK FOR LOOPHOLES. DO WHAT YOU CAN TO BE AS WELL AS YOU PRACTICALLY CAN BE GIVEN ANY LIMITATIONS THAT YOU HAVE.

Gilly got the proverbial memo too late; the first bout of open heart surgery just didn't sink in. It's almost impossible to Monday-morning quarterback someone's life when it's over, but I will say that had he pursued a little more exercise, a somewhat better diet, and (CRITICALLY) more aggressively pursued better diagnostic and preventative care, he'd probably still be here. I blame nobody, but the tragedy here is that even a slight improvement of any one of these things would have broken the "perfect storm" that sank him. Throw institutional racism and indifferent healthcare providers into the brew and it gets toxic real fast.

Having said that, Gilly and I both loved to cook, and to eat out together and with others. Somehow, a memorial post wouldn't be complete without a recipe or two. So, herewith, I give you a HEALTHY option that can be prepared in one evening after work, easily. Please enjoy:

Beer Can Chicken

Oven Fries

Garlic SuperSlaw with Garlic Dressing (adopted from the Wings of Life cookbook, alas out of print now)

SHOPPING LIST FOR THE WHOLE SHEBANG:

--One chicken, 3-6 lbs

--Waxy potatos of some sort; small, longish fingerlings are the best (enough for your crew-at least 2 lbs)

--Olive Oil (light grade)

--Spice Rub of your Choice

--Head of Garlic

--One Savoy Cabbage or bag of prepped shredded slaw salad mix

--One Medium Red Onion

--One Smallish Bunch Scallions

--Red Wine Vinegar

--Mayo Brand of your Choice

--Salt, Pepper (kosher salt if you have it)

--Heavy cream, or dairy substitute cream (ie soy cream) or milk

Equip and stuff:

--One can of beer or soda—if you have a tallboy beer can, use that—with the bev still in it

--Shallow jellyroll pan or baking pan

--High-sided pan to prop the chicken up in (or one of those chicken-beercan-cooker-sub thingies)

--Paper towels or clean dishcloths

--Blender (optional)

--Clean sink (really)

Instructions:

When you get home or get back from shopping, the first thing to do is heat up the oven. Put one rack in the middle and one on the bottom. Preheat to between 350 and 375, depending on how big your chicken is (use higher heat for a SMALLER chicken) and how flakey your oven is. You may want to put foil on the higher shelf to aid cleanup as oven-done beercan chicken tends to splatter.

Okay, now prep the slaw cabbage IF you are using the whole Savoy cabbage. Quarter and core the cabbage, and slice into slaw strips. Put the strips into the biggest bowl that you have and sprinkle the strips with kosher salt and toss very well. Cover in plastic and set aside to let it weep out.

Now prep the potatoes. Scrub and quarter the "long way" to make fingers—but don't peel—the potatoes. If they are bigger taters, cut into fat circle slices at least ¼" thick. Take the jellyroll pan and oil it very very well with the light grade olive oil (NOT the heavy stuff or it will scorch and smoke and mess up yer taters). Keep the olive oil out. Now, consider which spice rub you are going to put on the chicken—either a pre-done mix or seasoned salt or your own blend. Put the taters in the pan and add more oil. Now, add what my Mom calls "too much seasoning" and toss—use the same blend you'll use on the chicken if you want. Add more and toss. Add more and toss more. Make sure you also have enough oil as well.

Make sure that the taters have enough room and don't overlap if possible. Put in the lower level of the oven, uncovered.

Now go to work on the rest of the slaw. If you are salting the cabbage, keep letting it do its thing and save this for LAST. If you are using pre-cut slaw mix, start here. slice up the scallions, thin, up to about 3" into the green part (don't use the gross slimy ends of the scallions). Slice the red onion first in half and then into the thinnest crescents that you can.

Now onto the dressing. Only make this right before you're going to assemble the slaw.

Set up your blender. Peel at least 6 cloves of garlic. Proportions are suggested; I use 1/3 cup for each "part" here. Put in 2 parts mayo. Have the pepper grinder ready. Dump in the garlic and give it a whirl. Add in via a few splashes one part red wine vinegar. Whirl like HELL on the highest speed. Add a LOT of black pepper. IF you are NOT salting the cabbage (ie using slaw mix) add a LITTLE salt. If you are salting your cabbage, add NOT ONE GRAIN of salt. Then, pour in one generous splash of cream and whip like hell again.

Hand-toss the slaw mix (or the rinsed cabbage—see below) with the onions and scallions. Pour in the dressing and toss by hand, very thoroughly. Cover tightly and let hang out in your fridge while you work on the rest of dinner.

Remember the potatoes? Good. Don't worry, they are impossible to screw up. Stir them gently and go prep the chicken.

Take the chicken and rinse and dry well. Spray PAM or something on your pan and on your beercan chicken apparatus if you are using one. Season the chicken with lots of whatever you like on it. If you want, rub it down with some of the liquid from the can of your choice first—Gilly like using either Coke or beer—before you put the spice rub on. Now, either pour out half of the can's contents (or drink it) or pour it in the beer can apparatus. Stick the can or apparatus up the open wide end of the chicken, and balance the mess carefully in your pan. If you are using a can, GREASE THE CAN. CAREFULLY put the bird in the center of the upper rack of the oven.

Now, if you are wilting your cabbage, you can let it keep wilting for at least 15 more minutes. Go stir the potatoes again; if you need to, drizzle in a tad more oil. Now make sure your sink is CLEAN, especially if you rinsed the chicken in it. Fill sink with cold water and dump in the cabbage. Stir like a batch of laundry—rinse off that salt! Swish and drain in a colander, or just use a bunch of paper towels to squeeze out the water. Rinse again if need be. The cabbage should be wilted, and will taste salty—hence no salt in the dressing. Assemble salad as above.

Okay, now all you have to do is let the chicken cook. It should take around an hour. Do try to stir the taters at least once more. Towards the end of the cooking process, the oil will darken and thicken and the taters will shrink a bit and get a great crust of spicy goodness. If you need more time on the taters, you can always leave them in the oven for a bit more while the chicken rests.

Chicken is done when your favorite superstitious method for chicken doneness tests positive. I usually use the "if it smells done, it is" test.

If the taters are still in the oven, leave it on, obviously.

VERY VERY CAREFULLY and with GREAT CARE take the teetering chicken out of the oven and put on a stable surface. Use oven mitts.

Don't even think about getting the chicken off the can yet. Gently tent the whole mess with foil and let it rest for 10 minutes.

Get your cutting board or your serving pan ready. Using tongs and a mitt/glove, hold down the can with the gloved hand and use the tongs to pull the chicken off of the can. Or, if you have silicon gloves, use them to lift the chicken off the can. The can will be full of boiling hot liquid; you don't want 3^rd-degree scald burns; they suck. Be careful. Put the chicken on your board or your serving tray.

If the taters are still in the oven, they should be over themselves by now. Give a stir, and take them out of the oil and plate.

Give the slaw a deep stir from the bottom. Use tongs to make sure that the onions and scallions are well distributed.

Serve.

Enjoy.

NOTE: The slaw ages well and is even better the next day; make a day in advance. It keeps about a week in the cold part of the fridge. Also, the oven fries make the ABSOLUTE BEST hash browns as leftovers and are also good cold believe it or not.

Hash Browns: Using a smoking-hot cast iron pan, melt down a tad of butter with some olive oil. Brown-crisp a yellow onion. Toss in diced ovenfries and some red bell pepper if you feel fancy. Add a dash of very hot hot sauce and let sizzle down. Serve with eggs or tofu scramble or whatever—would also be a great hot side with fish, etc.

ENJOY AND BE WELL.

It's almost 11 PM. I need to sleep. Take care, remember, and preserve yourselves so that we can all stay on and fight.

Thank you.

---Jen

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How We Grubbed

The LowerManhattanite Family Thanksgiving Spread

(CLICK PIC TO ENLARGE VIEW OF TASTY FOODINESS!)

We didn't do the CRAZY spread this year, as my house wasn't Turkey Day Central this time around. The wheel of hosting fell to my sister—“da lawyah” for '07. But, at “Casa De LM“, we still did our own smorgasbord of yumminess for ourselves, the kids and a couple of friends whose folks were too far away to get to.

Okay, I still did the smorgasbord of yumminess. The wife, for all of her superhuman abilities, is vulnerable to the kryptonite of large-scale, high-intensity cooking. She's of the Rachael Ray quickie-dish school. Tasty stuff, but not the style conducive to major, multi-burner, multi-course pot-rattling.

That's my forté.

I've always found cooking relaxing. I can sink into the zen of sous-work—chopping and dicing, measuring an 1/8 of a teaspoon of this or a 1/3 of a cup of that. The timing out of things so all comes together within minutes of each other for servability...that kind of mental exercise is good for me, as it just pushes all the annoying workaday and “awful-world-around-me” stuff to the periphery of my mind—and stokes the creative me as I get to create tasty “art” that my family and friends seem to appreciate.

So, as per usual on Thanksgiving, I did the shopping on the weekend before, so I could limit my last minute runs to little things like a replacement Lemon Extract for the one that evaporated in the cupboard, or a small, travel-sized bottle of cognac for a sauce (as most sauces that require a spirit call for less than a cup of it, the “airline” bottles are a godsend). Everything went perfectly. The cooking started the night before at midnight, when I did the pies and macaroni and cheese (BAKED!) so the oven would be freed-up for the main cooking of the following day, and not run the risk of stray basting juices and conflicting aromas mingling there and tainting conflicting meal elements.

With that, here's the rundown of the menu—which I just had lunch today from leftovers of—YUM!

A.) Da boid! An 11 lb. EMPIRE KOSHER TURKEY. Got turned on to these decades ago as my mom and dad gew to hate the homogenized, bland taste of the ultra-ubiquitous “Butterballs”. A butcher friend gave my Dad a couple of Empires and said, “You'll thank me.” We tried them, and Daddy did come to thank the man. The Empire's being kosher means they aren't pumped up with the same preservatives and hormonal junk that the Butterballs are, plus, they have a “gamier”, meatier flavor, and appear to have actually been a real “bird” at some time, as opposed to a pen-bred, mechanically-stuffed “fowlenstein”. The dark meat from an Empire turkey will make you close your eyes and think of all things good. Man, what a bird! Prep was simple—night before, (after a day and a half on the thaw), unwrap, remove in-cavity neck-bone, wash in cold water inside and out, and pat dry. Get a stick of butter and either room-temp soften or microwave on low for 15 seconds to soften up. Get out your Kosher Salt, black pepper (I use a grinder), Lawry's seasoned salt, and most importantly— SMALL BOX OF BELL'S POULTRY SEASONING! Sprinkle about a half-teaspoon of salt, 1/8 of one of pepper, and a shake or two of the Lawry's over the melting butter. Then, shake on a big fistful of the Bell's. Let that set for a few minutes. Go to your turkey...and make sure your hands are washed and your nails trimmed for this part—using the tips of your fingers work at the skin's edge near the top of the breast and ease your fingers between the skin and breast meat. Once you've got that started, take your time and work your way down slowly nudging to get that separation of skin and meat—down around the sides and so on. You can do the same coming up from the bottom cavity opening and work around into the drumsticks. Flip her over and do what you can with the back, too. YOU'RE NOT REMOVING THE SKIN, just creating a secondary seasoning space. Once you've as much of the turkey done (you don't have do this with the wings and entire legs and back) as you can, go back to your butter and spice mix and mush it all together with your hands until it's a darkish paste.

Rub that all over the Turkey, AND IN BETWEEN THE SKIN AND MEAT IN THE SEPARATION YOU'VE CREATED. This allows for the seasoning to not merely settle in on the exterior, but settle in meat-deep and permeate as it slowly cooks. Rub the mixture in and on till you've exhausted the paste, put the boid on a platter and Saran wrap it and refrgerate for the next day's roasting. Come the day, take her out, put it in the roasting pan (breast side-up), and stuff it. (if desired.) Set the oven for 450º degrees and cook for 15 minutes. Flip it breast side down fr another 15, and then flip back to breast up for the remaining 1 1/2 -1 3/4 hours at 325º-350º degrees (for a 10-12 lb. bird—follow general length instructions for weightier fowl), basting with pan juices every 20 minutes until done. Poke breast with a fork—when no clear juices erupt from the puncture—she's a' done. Let cool for an hour or so before picking bits off to taste as I know you will.

B.) SAUTEED KALE WITH GARLIC AND TURKEY BACON. I'm apparently the only Black man in the country who does NOT like collard greens. I just don't like wet, sloppy, olive-colored greens on my plate. And kale holds up better under heat, is tastier and has a higher vitamin enrichment, so...I go with kale. Pick the leaves off the stem, wash em and dry 'em. Three tablespoons of olive oil in a pan—medium heat, toss in the kale and cook for a couple of minutes, nudging it around. Season with salt, pepper and Lawry's. Toss in your garlic—finely chopped—NOT FROM A JAR! and cook for another couple of minutes, nudging it around and mixing. It's gonna smell great. Lastly, toss in some crumbled turkey bacon bits for color and extra flavor at the end. Let that cook for another 90 seconds, still nudging and mixing. Remove from pan to a paper towel to drain away the excess oil and you're done. It's delicious, and even better the next day. (TIP: toss a teaspoon of olive oil in a pan the next day, and quick sauté the remainder for a minute , which will lightly crisp the kale. The texture is beautiful and the flavor wil have totally set in.) Mmmmmm-mmmmmm!

C. STUFFING/DRESSING. Call it what you wanna, I call it good! I use a cornbread stuffing in lieu of bread crumbs. You can use the pre-dried bag variety (a 14 oz.bag and a half), or bake your own home-made, or quickie Jiffy™ mix variety. Either way, make sure it's sufficiently cool and dry when it's time to whip this up. (crumble the pan-mixed and baked kind by hand of course) Sauté 3/4 of a cup of chopped onion, and 3/4 a cup of celery. Get some italian-style turkey sausage, remove three links from their casings, crumble and sauté as well. Mix in with the celery and onion. Toss in a half-cup of slivered pecans (or walnuts, if you like). In a large pot bring to a boil a cup and a half of water with a stick and a quarter of butter. Remove from heat. Mix in the cornbread chunks, and then the celery/onion/pecan/sausage mix until the liquid binds the concoction together nicely. Toss in a fistful of white and brown sugar, a diced Granny Smith apple and a 1/3 of a cup of apple juice. Keep mixing to bind, and then stuff what will fit into the bird. What remains goes in a baking pan and you tamp this down to fill and even the height.

Stuffing cooks in the bird, while the panned portion is put in the oven next to it for about an hour or so to bake up. I hereby absolve myself from all responsibility for your weight gain from this carb treat.

D. BISCUITS. A basic biscuit recipe—typical flour, cold water, butter and oil thingy— except I use coconut oil as it gives them a sweet, nutty little taste on top of the flaky goodness. Throw in a pinch of sugar, too.

E. CARMELIZED, CINNAMONED GREEN BEANS WITH SLIVERED PECANS. Wash and trim your beans, dry 'em, and toss 'em in a pan with two tablespoons of butter. Season with a little salt and pepper, then toss in your pecan slivers. Then hit with a teaspoon of cinnamon, another pat of butter, and then altenate tosses of white and brown sugar—A-B-A-B, all the while nudging and coating the beans in the cinnamony, sweet butter glaze under medium heat. This'll take all of ten minutes, and be worth every Goddamned one of 'em. Trust me!

F. BAKED MACARONI AND CHEESE. The bechamel vs. straight cheese sauce wars are right up there with Sunni vs. Shia, so take what you will from this. I favor the classic Mueller's baked recipe, available here. I also lean towards the corn starch base version, as the flour-based one tends to super-quickly thicken. And the rapper Big Daddy Kane gave me this next tip years ago (we shared cooking tips—he's a damn good cook himself—while working on a TV show together)—he uses a tablespoon of either French's yellow mustard, or Hellmann's Dijonnaise in addition to the dry Colman's mustard the recipé calls for. It gives the cheese (PLEASE USE A GOOD-QUALITY SHARP OR PREFERABLY EXTRA-SHARP) a nice extra bit of bite.

G. WHIPPED POTATOES. Easiest thing in the world. Peel 6 potatoes, dice 'em. Boil until soft to touch. Drain, Use manual masher to pulverize—BOOMP! BOOMP! BOOMP! Add whole milk—the hell with 2% and skim—while still mashing. Maybe 1/2 a cup until texture gets a little creamy, but still stiff enough to hold shape alá Richard Dreyfuss in “Close Encounters”. Add butter—maybe half a stick or so, and sprinkle salt to taste. Get your wire whisk and whip that son-of-a-bitch until softened a bit more. Maybe a minute. If needed, add more salt and butter till taste is perfect. You'll know when.

H. OLD SCHOOL NATION OF ISLAM-STYLE BEAN PIES. I know, you think it sounds nasty, but Goddamn if there's almost anything better with a dollop of vanilla ice cream and a cuppa joe. Won't give the recipé here, 'cause it's actually a family secret. My Dad was the perfecter of the pie's recipé in the 1960's, along with his aide Lana Shabazz, who would leave my dad's place to become Muhammad Ali's training-camp chef. All I will say is that it is a custard-based pie using eggs, sugar, extracts, spices, special milk, a thickener, and pureed, cooked navy beans, amongst other things and a special prep-order key to the pie's turning out properly. If you ever taste a store-bought Bean Pie, it's based on a large-scale translated version of this recipé, but invariably misses a couple of the special ingredients, and always the key prep-order my Dad mastered. That prep-order is what keeps the pie colored a certain way—mahogany brown exterior/golden, glisteneing interior, as well as balancing the flavor notes—sweet, nutty, with an warm afternote of the spice/extract blend.

Put it all together, and you get the LowerManhattanite Family and Friends Holiday Spread. Now, of course, I stayed up until 5:30 a.m. on the pies, mac and cheese and sous work, got up at 9:00 a.m. to do the main cooking and finished at 3:30 in the afternoon. We ate an hour later. I had a “Hyman Roth” (Dr. Brown's Black Cherry Soda, Bacardi Rum, splash of lime juice, sprig of mint over ice), and passed out until 1:00 a.m. (The all-nighter, and old Hyman put Papa away but good) today. Then had a slice of pie and slept until 10:00 a.m. Coffee and pie for breakfast...

...and then some of the spread leftovers for lunch. Sis and Mom came by for their pies, and some of the unpictured BAKED SWEET POTATOES WITH MAPLE PECAN BUTTER. Split sweet potatoes with a knife, then poke holes all around 'em with a fork. Rub 'em down with butter and place in foil wraps and place in oven for an hour. Get a stick of butter, softened slightly, an ounce of maple syrup and 1/2 cup of chopped pecans. Pop 'em into a food processor or an Osterizer™ and pureé 'em down into a soft mixture. Spoon out into a bowl or Tupperware case, cover and place in fridge for 45 minutes. It'll re-harden as butter does—but will be infused with maple syrup and pecan taste. (!) When taters are done, pooch the ends to open the middles, and hit with the special butter you just made.

Ohhhhhhhh, my!

And that folks, is how we got down grub-wise! I tripped over my son who was sprawled on the floor in front of the couch at 1:00 a.m.. Daughter was zonked in the easy chair. All was as it should have been, post feast. :) Will post more as the tryptophan/all-nighter induced sloth wears off.

My best to every one of you,
LowerManhattanite

How'd your own feasts go?

There's more...

Eating The Big Juicy With Larry

Yummy Finger Food, by U.S. Senator Larry Craig (R-Idaho)

Mouth watering goodness.

His favorite recipe is the Super Tuber. Really?

LM is right. This is fuuuuun.

1st Traveler's Choice Internet Cookbook

The Honorable Larry E. Craig
United States Senator, Idaho

Super Tuber

Super Tuber is a great snack that uses one of my favorite vegetables: The Idaho Potato. Of course, I suppose any type of potato could be used, but I cannot guarantee that a Super Tuber made with anything but a true Idaho potato would taste as good. Sincerely, Larry E. Craig, United States Senator

Ingredients

1 hot dog, cook's choice

1 Idaho baking potato, 7 to 10 ounces

Mustard for dipping, any style

Other condiments as desired such as cheese sauce, sour cream, chili, chives, bacon pieces or black olives.

Wash and dry potato. Rub with shortening or butter. With an apple corer or small knife, core out the potato center (end to end). Push hot dog through the center. Bake until potato is cooked through.

To Microwave: Place on microwave safe plate; cover loosely (to avoid splatters). Microwave on high about 4 minutes per potato until fork tender.

To Bake in Conventional Oven: Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Bake for approximately one hour or until potato is fork tender.

To Barbecue: Wrap in aluminum foil and place above medium hot coals, turning at least once during cooking. Cook until potato is fork tender.

Serving Suggestions: Allow potato to cool slightly. Eat as a finger food, dipping in your favorite hot dog condiments (mustard is my favorite).

Come and get it, boys...

Take it all, swallow the whole wiener.

Hat tip Crooks and Liars

There's more...

Holiday Food

photo Aaronsgourmet.com (Click for high def, you must see this Kosher bird full size!!!)
(Aarons ships a full take out line. Yummy.)

Holiday Meals

Melanie, my friend who blogs Bump in the Beltway and runs The Flu Wiki, already is thinking holiday food.

Evil Melanie. Bad blogger. Grrrr.

Just a Bump in the Beltway

Bagged Roast Turkey With Cornbread, Chestnut, and Sage Stuffing

large turkey (15 to 22 pounds)
2 large, plain brown grocery bags
1 clove garlic, minced
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
Sea salt

Remove giblets from turkey. Soak turkey in salted water to cover for 1 hour; meanwhile, prepare giblet stock and stuffing (see below). Drain and rinse turkey; pat dry. Rub cavities with minced garlic. Brush inside of bird with melted butter. Bird is ready for stuffing.

Giblet Stock

giblets and neck from turkey
2 ribs celery, chopped
1 clove garlic, minced
1 onion, quartered
1 parsnip, quartered
1 teaspoon each sea salt, pepper, marjoram, and sage

Combine all and cook in 1 quart water, covered, while turkey is soaking and stuffing is being mixed. (Stock will be used in stuffing and gravy.) Strain the stock through cheesecloth to get rid of foam and vegetables for a clear stock.

Stuffing

4 to 6 slices cornbread (depending on size of turkey)
2 cups cubed wheat bread
2 onions, diced
2 apples, peeled, cored, and chopped
2 cups chopped celery
1 cup chopped chestnut meats
1/2 cup grated carrot
2 tablespoons ground fresh sage
2 teaspoons sea salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1 cup unsalted butter, melted
1 cup giblet stock, strained
giblet meat, chopped fine

Crumble cornbread and toss with bread cubes and remaining ingredients. When stuffing is well mixed, stuff lightly into cavities of turkey, and sew them shut with needle and cotton thread. Tuck wings in and tie legs together.

Lightly oil the insides of both bags. Place turkey in one brown bag, and slide the second bag over the open end. Place bagged bird in roasting pan and roast at 350° F, allowing 20 minutes per pound. Check after three quarters of the time has elapsed, and add water if necessary. Cut away bags and let turkey brown during last 20 to 30 minutes. Use turkey drippings and remaining stock to make gravy.

This is a classic New England recipe but, as a midwesterner, I prefer plain sage bread to cornbread for the dressing. Chestnuts are not always easy to find and black walnuts make a perfectly fine substitution. I think it is a combination of the brining and the paper bags that makes this such a perfectly finished and moist turkey.

Figure on about 1/2-3/4 of a pound uncooked weight per serving (don't forget the leftovers! Buy extra plastic containers!) and buy a turkey that fits your guest list.

Of course, the rest of the meal has to include gravy, Aunt Marj's baked mashed potatoes and green beans with almonds, pumpkin pie with whipped cream and unsweetened tea (I'm not from around here, you know) along with cranberry sauce and Parker House roles with sweet butter. Yes, I use the bake and serve variety. There is enough going on with this meal without adding a scratch bread recipe into it. The kitchen is going to be a mess. Sure, I'm a little bit of a food Nazi, but I have my limits.

Aunt Marj's Baked Mashed Potatoes
1 large russett potato per person

Peel, quarter (or smaller, depending on the size of the spuds) and boil in salted water. The pieces all need to be the same size so that they will finish at the same time. Drain all the water out and let them sit in a colander in a few minutes to drain. When the surfaces are dry, return to the warm pot with one tablespoon of unsalted butter per potato. Begin to mash (great stress relief) and gradually add full fat milk or light cream, about 1/4 cup per potato, while mashing. When the potatoes are mashed to your personal specifications, turn them out of the sauce pan and into a buttered casserole with a cover. Bake covered at 350 for 30 minutes, then remove the cover, immerse the top of the potatoes with sweet butter and continue to bake at 350 until the top is golden brown. Everybody will fight over the crust. You are going to use a lot of butter, so save up your fat and cholesterol points for this meal.

Try the paper bag turkey. Your family will look at you like you have suddenly gone nuts UNTIL they taste it. Then, they will insist that you make it this way every year.

The Nebraska Poultry & Egg people say do NOT use paper bags because:

If using a cooking bag, follow the instructions provided with the bag, and reduce the amount of total roasting time. Never use a brown paper bag as they are made from recycled materials that may contain toxins. Make sure you use a meat thermometer to determine doneness.

Hmmm. Don't know what to say to that.

Turkey chefs... What say you all?

Oh... and the fear of setting the paper bag on fire?

Nah. Obviously you need to not let it touch the heating elements of your oven, duh. But paper burns at 451 F, and this recipe calls for 350 degrees. Watch your temperatures.

One more:

Just a Bump in the Beltway

My mother's awesome potato salad. To this day, I find the stuff addictive and at family parties I go short on the other courses in order to save room for a second helping of this.

American Holiday Potato Salad
Serves 6-8

3 pounds potatoes, cooked until just tender, cubed, cooled
5 or 6 hard cooked eggs, cooled, halved
1/4 to 1/2 cup chopped red onion
1/4 to 1/2 cup chopped celery
thinly sliced tomatoes and cucumber, for garnish, optional
A dozen thinly sliced stuffed green olives

Dressing:
3/4 cup mayonnaise (a little more or less, as desired)
1 to 2 tablespoons prepared mustard
1/4 cup cidar vinager
salt and pepper to taste

Combine potatoes, onions, and celery. Stir in mayonnaise, mustard, vinager and salt and pepper to taste. (Stir the mayonnaise and mustard in a little at a time, until you have the flavor and consistency you like.) Don't skip the celery leaves, they are big on flavor.

Top with thinly sliced tomatoes and cucumber, if desired.

Place the egg slices around the inside of the serving dish as a scallop design, alternating with heart lettuce leaves.

This is a peculiarity of mine which I share with my mother: when concocting the dressing, I add thinly sliced stuffed green olives and a couple of tablespoons of the olive juice. They add a nice zing. For a serving size of 6-8, about a dozen olives will do the trick. Thinly sliced, please.

Mom sprinkles some more olive slices around the top of the serving bowl. I like to add a dash of sweet paprika.

Diet and exercise people. *sighs* (Yeah, I know. But I've discovered it works! How rad cool is that?!)

If you want to make it through the holiday season without gaining 10 - 15 pounds, start exercising now and get the habit in place so you can survive the disruptions of all that food and holiday scheduling craziness.

Regular exercise (just one hour 2-3 times a week) will, literally, save your ass.

Damn... Now I'm hungry. And need to bicycle.

This is your fault Melanie. I blame you... Bad blogger.

There's more...

Sunday Eats

photo Kim Severson/NY Times (click for high def)

Alice Waters and Chez Panisse - New American Cuisine

The best meals I've ever were in Chez Panisse in Berkeley. Not even in the famous downstairs restaurant where reservations seemed always reserved far in advance and meals prix fixe past what I could afford in the 80s. I ate upstairs in the Café.

Oh my Gods the flavors, the tastes, the smells and how the food just looked.

The Grand Canyon down deep inside the canyon by the river a whole mile straight up to above the rim. Ice cold water in your mouth from snow melt high in the Tetons cresting a ridge, and Yosemite's Tuolumne Meadows in the spring as the sun rises through the mist over the still snow-bogged meadow. Thelma Houston live. Taking a bicycle at forty tearing down a hill with your children racing behind. The Golden Gate Bridge and Golden Gate National Recreation Area especially the Marin Headlands where I so often go to just be. Libraries, books, writing, and movies. The look on her face, coming again unexpectedly. And Chez Panisse.

Alice Waters gave us what is now called New American Cuisine. High-quality products in season, prepared simply to exacting standards (with enormous discipline) so the natural flavors of the foods and seasonings come through, displayed beautifully, from local markets, bountiful, abundant, overflowing with goodness. Food prepared by Alice Waters and her successors at Chez Panisse brings joy to all who partake, as if the divine reaches directly from the kitchens of heaven to the tables of earth.

Last week Alice Waters took the food reporter for The New York Times shopping at a farmer's market, showing a video camera precisely how she shops for food. The video is only available at The Times article, and you'll likely want to go watch. The rest of The Times article is also terrific.

NY Times

WHEN Alice Waters is coming over to cook lunch, the first thing you do is look around your house and think, I live in a dump.

Then you take an inventory of the pantry. The bottles of Greek and Portuguese olive oil, once a point of pride, suddenly seem inadequate. And should you hide the box of Kellogg’s Raisin Bran and jettison those two cans of Diet Pepsi?

At the end of the afternoon, when the last peach was peeled and my kitchen was stacked with dirty pots, it didn’t really matter. Ms. Waters was either too polite or too distracted to mention what was in my cupboard. It turns out she travels with her own olive oil, anyway. And homemade vinegar. And salt-packed capers.

Ms. Waters had agreed to spend a hot September day shopping with me at the Union Square Greenmarket and schlepping back to my first-floor apartment in brownstone Brooklyn to make lunch.

The menu was dictated by two things: the market’s offerings and the recipes in her forthcoming book, “The Art of Simple Food: Notes, Lessons and Recipes From a Delicious Revolution” (Clarkson Potter, October).

The book is more to Ms. Waters than an instructional guide. It is her attempt, through recipes, to save the American food supply. She wrote it because she still believes a plate of delicious food can change everything.

“We’re trying to educate young people and show them how to use that lens of ingredients as a way to change their lives,” she said. “Otherwise, it would be just another cookbook.”

The book is Ms. Waters’s ninth since she started Chez Panisse restaurant in Berkeley, Calif., 36 years ago. Unlike the others, the new book does not use the name of the restaurant. It reads more like an organic “Joy of Cooking,” designed to instruct novices on how to make a perfect vinaigrette but also intended to be as essential to experienced cooks as the final Harry Potter installment was to 12-year-olds.

“Food can be very transformational and it can be more than just about a dish,” she said. “That’s what happened to me when I first went to France. I fell in love. And if you fall in love, well, then everything is easy.”

(Currently, Ms. Waters is not in love, though she longs for “a good pal to be in the world with.”)

By all measures, Ms. Waters should be relaxing at this point in her life. She is 63. She has held court with princes and presidents. A year ago, with some prodding from her partners at the restaurant, she pulled back from the daily work at Chez Panisse. Now she is trying to become better at leveraging her role as the high priestess of the local, sustainable food revolution.

Although she is enthusiastically mocked in some circles for the impossible goals she articulates in a wispy cadence, chefs who once sniffed that her methods were more about shopping than cooking now agree that the heart of great food is selecting the best ingredients.

So why does Ms. Waters still seem so restless, so unsatisfied, so unrelentingly demanding that she can’t show up at someone’s house and trust that they might have the right olive oil?

Because true, radical change — a country full of people who eat food that is good for them, good for the people who grow it and good for the earth — is simply not coming fast enough.

She is dismayed by the presidential candidates and said she has vowed not to vote for anyone who does not talk about the awful state of the food system.

Although many school districts are trying to improve the food they offer, the results have been unsatisfying, she said. It’s useless to coat frozen chicken nuggets with whole-wheat bread crumbs and fill vending machines with diet soda. Only a complete and radical reform will do, and it must be led by the president of the United States.

“These are little Band-Aids,” she said. “The whole body is bleeding and we must stop it. We simply must.”

A revolution in how we eat means respecting food and the people who produce it, she said. In her world, every aspect of this revolution, be it related to agricultural policy, the environment or obesity, must begin with a plate of lovely, locally produced food and work backward from there.

The book is deceptively simple. As she writes, “Good cooking is no mystery.” Most recipes seem to be built on salt, black pepper, olive oil, fresh herbs and garlic. But they have to be specific kinds, like chunky gray sea salt for boiling water. “If you are not buying the right ingredients, this is going to taste like any other food,” she said.

The attention to detail is maddening and enlightening. She offers lovely notes on cooking eggs, and her passage on serving fruit for dessert is so thoughtful and useful it reads like gospel. She devotes a page and a half to making bread crumbs properly.

But in parts of the book she veers past purity to madness. Halfway into a recipe for gazpacho, while soaking ancho chili, grating tomatoes and mashing it all in a mortar and pestle, you start to look at the blender with longing.

Ms. Waters doesn’t like machines much, although she is partial to the toaster oven. She doesn’t use a computer and has only cursory knowledge of her cellphone. She wrote the book largely by dictating her notes to Fritz Streiff, her longtime co-writer, and collaborated with Kelsie Kerr, who has cooked at Chez Panisse, and Patricia Curtan, who also illustrated the book.

But she knows almost all the recipes by heart, which made it easy to figure out lunch.

Walking through the Greenmarket with her is an exercise in excess. She has never met a fresh herb she didn’t like, and I still have plenty of hyssop in my refrigerator to prove it.

Her good friend Doug Hamilton, a film director and producer, came along to help carry our reusable cloth shopping bags. He was a godsend. When you visit farmers with Alice Waters, you come home with a lot of stuff.

Farmers kept trying to give her baskets of food, but she insisted on paying because she believes contributing money to family farmers is a moral obligation. (In this case, The New York Times paid for everything.)

People literally started shaking when they realized they were shopping next to Alice Waters. When she offered to visit the Queen’s Hideaway, a homestyle restaurant in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, the owner, Liza Queen, waved her off, already nervous at the thought of it.

“Please don’t,” Ms. Queen said. “If you come in, we’d probably lose it.”

What a lovely article. I have the book on order. It's the word, by Alice. (I tend to fall in love with musicians, artists, cooks, writers, geeks, scientists, doctors, athletes, actresses, even bloggers and politicians and soldiers... the people who are attempting to make our world better. None of you have probably noticed this.)

You'll get to San Francisco sometime. It calls you, that famous place with the Golden Gate.

Make the pilgrimage across the bay to Berkeley, home of the University of California at Berkeley (all three of my daughters were born in Berkeley), right next to Oakland.

Find your way to Chez Panisse, the restaurant which changed American food. You'll need a reservation, although perhaps not at lunch or for the Café, but either way, plan your trip to make it possible. Write me a letter afterwards and tell me how it went. I genuinely want to know.

The Observer

Famously the downstairs restaurant once served for pudding a single peach on a plate. Not peeled. Not cut up. Just a peach. Chez Panisse was saying: this peach is so good nothing we could do would improve upon it.

I wonder whether some diners might not find the whole experience too doctrinaire, a lecture on a plate? 'I don't think they feel that way,' she says. 'Though there are some who say "I could cook this at home."' What does she say to that? 'I say "Great. Go and cook it at home." That's why we put all the names of the suppliers on the menu. I want people to be excited about where food comes from. There's nothing intimidating about Chez Panisse.'

The night I ate at Chez Panisse, the four-course menu was much like many others that I had read online. On a wooden plate in the middle of the cosy, wood-lined dining room was a dish of the most fabulously bulbous spring onions, huge things the size of a baby's fist. These turned up in a salad with artichokes and morels. After that came a tranche of wild king salmon in fish broth with lemongrass and a dollop of herb butter. At this point I was, frankly, disappointed. The ingredients may have been perfect, but neither dish sang out. The dressing on the salad was understated, the seasoning in the butter low-key.

Then came the 'Sonoma County Liberty' duck breast, grilled over open coals in the red brick-lined kitchen, which looks more like the kind of thing you would find in a farmhouse than a top restaurant. It was spectacular, the duckiest piece of duck I have ever tasted. Likewise the Lucero strawberries with the pudding were some of the most delicious it has ever been my pleasure to eat. Cooking like this - doing as little as possible to the ingredients - is not easy. 'New guys always want to do more,' says Jean-Pierre Moullé, one of the two head chefs in the restaurant, who has been here for 30 years. 'When I was first here I wanted to show off, too. But to cook simply takes discipline.' I ask him if Chez Panisse could now run without Alice. 'Technically, yes. But she is an important person. She's always keeping track.' And then, 'She's the conscience of Chez Panisse.'

Recipes from Alice's forthcoming book, used during her lunch with the NY Times.

NY Times

Recipe: Raspberry Syrup

2 cups raspberries or other berries

1 1/2 cups sugar, plus 2 tablespoons

1/2 teaspoon fresh lemon juice.

1. Combine berries, 2 tablespoons sugar and 1 cup water in a medium saucepan with a heavy bottom. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until berries begin to break down and release their juices, about 4 minutes.

2. Add 1 1/2 cups cold water and lemon juice. Bring to a boil, then immediately turn down to a simmer and skim off any foam that bubbles to top. Cook for 15 minutes.

3. Strain into bowl through cheesecloth-lined strainer, pressing on fruit to squeeze out juices. Return the liquid to the pan and add 1 1/2 cups sugar. Stir until sugar dissolves. Bring to a boil and cook for 2 minutes. Remove from heat and let cool. Store in a tightly sealed container in the refrigerator for up to 3 weeks.

Yield: About 2 1/2 cups.

More recipes from lunch:

• Recipe: Warm Olives
• Recipe: Aioli
• Recipe: Salsa Verde

Vitally important to Alice Waters' work bringing healthy food to American schools and children, and to our plates, is the American farmer.

Here is part of an interview called Nurturing Connections With Farmers which I cherry-picked (heh); the rest after the jump.

Seasonal Chef

SEASONAL CHEF: A lot of organic farmers are trying to teach consumers that cosmetic appeal is meaningless, that an occasional bug comes with the territory. And yet in your books, you stress the importance of aesthetic perfection in food. Would you serve flea beetle-bitten arugula in your restaurant?

WATERS: Yes, but I would think about how to use it. I probably wouldn’t make an arugula salad out of it. But I would throw it into the pasta. If it was an apple with little spots all over it, I wouldn’t put it on a fruit plate but I would make a tart out of it. I would choose something else that looks real good for the fruit plate.

SEASONAL CHEF: Why do you prefer organic produce?

WATERS: Taste, for sure. And I’m interested in it because I know I need to support the people who are taking care of the land and thinking of the future, people who are thinking about how communities come together. It’s my feeling that that can happen when the person growing the food is connected with the person who is eating it. A result of those connections is a sense of caring about somebody else’s welfare. That’s how you build up those bonds which ultimately leads you to a sense of a group made up of people who care about one another. I’m interested in organic food for all those reasons. But of course also because organic produce is pure and wholesome and delicious and alive when I get it. And nine times out of 10, it’s picked very ripe.

SEASONAL CHEF: Given that consumers seem to have an insatiable demand for convenience, can farmers markets compete with supermarkets?

WATERS: I think they can. When you come in contact with the people in the farmers market, and the food, and you taste it, you can never go back. There’s no comparison.

Yes, it takes a little longer to shop at the farmers market, but what you get, in my mind, is an experience that enriches one’s life. It’s an experience of connecting with people. It smells good. It tastes good. It has a good feeling about it. There’s no way that that kind of experience can’t seduce people and make the supermarket experience in comparison pretty depressing.

Also we have to begin to understand that a little bit of time shopping in farmers markets will save time in the cooking. If you buy ripe tomatoes, all you have to do is slice them. You don’t have to add salt and sugar, all that stuff that you do to doctor things up that don’t taste very good in the first place.

Also I think the message about the hidden costs of supermarket produce for your health and for the health of the community must be understood. I’ve always said give your money directly to the people who are growing it. They need it. And we don’t need a middleman.

SEASONAL CHEF: Do you think organic produce can gain acceptance in supermarkets?

WATERS: I love that supermarkets are getting organic produce. It brings a certain kind of consciousness to the general public. But organic produce in supermarkets is so overpriced and usually it is not very good looking and, in fact, sometimes rotten because it doesn’t have a long shelf life. People may buy something like that, spend a lot of money on it and feel like they got something that represents organic produce. So I can’t really decide whether it’s doing a disfavor or a service to the organic movement. In general I think it’s probably not a good idea to have it in a supermarket. But sometimes you’re dependent on supermarkets. And I would rather buy slightly second-rate organic produce than conventionally grown produce. Then I will make something of it.

I’ve thought there should be somebody in the supermarket who could hawk organic produce a little bit. But supermarkets don’t seem to be able to afford someone like that. There are millions of checkers and helpers all around the store, but supermarkets just don’t seem to understand the need to have someone like that in a produce section.

Food matters. Healthy food and fresh water nurture the heart of life.

Enjoy your Sunday. Eat something fresh and tasty.

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Recipe Time: “It's Apple Pie—You've Gotta Care About Apple Pie!”

Smell the cinnamon and spices--the buttery baked crust...mmmmm.

For a large part of my life, my father owned a bakery. Born before 1920, daddy was very old-school about a lot of things, but he was also a man of considerable idiosyncracies inconguous with his being a Jim Crow-South born, Army veteran, major-league playboy of a certain vintage.

Daddy was also what one would now call "a foodie".

He ran a restaurant and a bakery, and a dairy in my childhood and adolescence, and was quite hardcore about how food should be prepared. As he was serving people food for a living, he very much cared about what folks ate. It really mattered to him. I'd stand in the doorway of the the restaurant's smallish kitchen, watching him teaching his chefs about this and that--properly seasoning a chicken, how to tenderize meat, the way to manipulate a whisk while beating egg whites and cream of tartar into a meringiue--things like that.

But what he was hardest of core about was baking. There was a "way" to do certain things. Even if he and his crew were making up a batch of batter for 200 carrot cakes at a time--you didn't scrimp on technique and ingredients. He was a taskmaster, because people cherished their sweets--they were special things to be looked forward to. And when his guys--especially the second-shift crew, who worked largely unsupervised, would screw up a batch of pies or cakes, he would go ballistic. Imagine if you will, a Black Gordon Ramsay--losing it.

"Who the fuck wants to eat a BAD PIE?! HUH? NOBODY, THAT'S WHO! NOBODY WANTS TO EAT A BAD PIE!”, I would hear him thunder from his office above the bakery at whoever cut corners and botched a batch. Early one morning, I was coming to the bakery to fill in for a vacationing cake man when I happened upon my dad angrily setting up a presentation in the large office upstairs. Laid out on the table were an array of mal-formed, mis-colored pies and cakes he had gathered from the cooling rooms and was assembling as visual proof of baking fuck-uppery downstairs. But dead-center on the table were a quartet of ugly, burned, ill-baked pies--apple pies--that were simply awful.

"Wow. That's a mess.", I said.

"It's gonna be a real mess up here when I kick the asses of the fuckers responsible for this shit!" He growled. "Go tell the crew I said to get up here. Now. I don't care what they're doing--tell 'em I said come up here. You stay downstairs."

I did what I was told, and as the crew trudged warily upstairs I busied myself gloving up to ice cakes--large batches of cakes are often iced using one's hands in rubber gloves instead of spatulas. It's quicker. As I began icing, I heard my father's voice roar through the floorboards and echo down the staircase into the wrapping room.

"How would you feel if someone served you a pie that looked LIKE THIS? Sunday night, after dinner, nobody wants to eat a pie like THIS with a scoop of ice cream! Look at this! Do you care? DO YOU EVEN CARE ABOUT WHO'S GONNA EAT THIS STUFF AFTER IT LEAVES YOUR HANDS?! I mean, Goddamn...it's apple pie! People love apple pie! YOU'VE GOTTA CARE ABOUT APPLE PIE!"

He went on about how people are really particular about their sweets, and how the crew should think about that when they're baking. "Dessert...people look forward to that. Kids live for it. It's why you have a job. You keep 'em coming back when the stuff is good, and for it to be good, you have to care. Apple pie? Come on...you can't fuck up Apple pie! If you ain't gonna get apple pie right...I mean..."

He wasn't a flag-waving wingnut hung up on symbolism or anything like that. But he was a stickler for getting the classic things right--like apple pie. Bitter, hard fillings were taboo. Gooey mushy innards, too. Stiff, plastery, burned crusts with collapsed, soupy, ill-seasoned fruit within was something you just didn't do. And he--my father passed down his stickling for "getting it right" to us kids when it came to food...and baking...and specifically Apple Pie. Thus, the following recipé for that American favorite on this day--a day that pissed off the great Frederick Douglass with very good reason, and should give us all reason to pause and think about what it really means.

But dammit...who can say no to delicious apple pie with a dollop of vanilla ice cream on a warm summer's night? Especially home made. Try this recipé on fer size! :)

A two-pack of Oronoque Farms Vegetable Shortening 9-inch Pie Crusts.
5 to 6 large apples--Granny Smith or Winesap variety
1 tablespoon of Lemon Juice
1/2 cup of White Sugar
1/4 cup of Brown Sugar
1 1/2 tablespoons of Cornstarch
1 teaspoon of ground Cinnamon
A pinch of Nutmeg
1 large Egg White, beaten with a tablespoon of Water
and a teaspoon of Milk
2 tablespoons of Unsalted Butter cut into small pats

Pre-heat your oven to 425º degrees.

You can use the Oronoque Crusts or really any decent shortening crust (As I don't do pork, I go with vegetable shortening), but if you're hard-core as I generally am, you can make 'em from scratch using this recipé here. Keep 'em in the fridge for now. Not the freezer--but the fridge, under cellophane.

Peel your apples. You'll find the Granny Smiths more available--if you can get 'em from a Farmer's Market, that'll be best. But if you can get your hands on Winesaps, a delicious, sweet, snappy snacking/baking apple, do so--you won't be sorry. DO NOT USE RED DELICIOUS, GALAS OR FUJIS. These are eating apples, not generally good for baking. They make lovely applesauce though, but because of their water content, tend to cook "down" into a near-roux under long heat. Core the apples too, and cut 'em into thickish slices/slabs. Put these in a large bowl and quickly garnish with the lemon juice to prevent them from oxidizing, or browning in the open air. Lemon juice chemically reacts with the tannic acid in the apples and keeps 'em fresher.

While in the large bowl, toss the apples with the sugar--white and brown, the cornstarch, cinnamon and nutmeg until you have a nice brownish mix of apples and spices. It'll smell great! Get your pie crusts ready now. If it's the Crisco crust, take one, press it into the pan--a nine-incher, and roll the excess crust overhang onto the edge to double its thickness and create a thick edge. Brush the bottom and sides of it with the egg white mixture to temper the crust for baking. If they're the Oronoques, just brush the crust the same way. Spoon in the apple filling, and then dot the top of it with the cut-up butter pats.

Take the second crust and place it over the filled pie, pressing it down lightly over the mound of apple mixture. Roll its excess onto the crust edge and crimp it with a fork or simply press it into a thickened edge. Puncture the crust top with either a knife, cutting three or four slits in the center, three inches long to allow for the internal steam to vent while baking, or you could take a fork and punch in a decorative pattern of your choice--as long as there are enough holes to vent the steam. Brush the top crust all over with what's left of the egg white/milk/water mixture.

Put the pie on the oven rack, and knock the heat down to 350º F. Get a pinch of sugar and cinnamon, mix it in your hand. Sprinkle it around on the crust top. Then bake that sucker until the the apples are tender and you see juices bubbling through cracks in the crust's top and edges. Or when the crust is a deep, golden brown--this should take about one hour.

Let the pie cool on a rack before serving, and serve slightly warm or at room temperature.

Have yourself a slice of that bad boy with a dollop of vanilla ice cream, or a slice of white Canadian cheddar, or a nice cup of coffee.

And congratulate your bad self for a job well done. :)

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