TasteFood

Home Grown Food

I may be exposing my suburban roots, but it thoroughly impresses me when an entire meal can be harvested from a back yard.  Nowadays, there is plenty of talk of local, sustainable food, and happily this concept is growing through local farmers' markets and CSA's, movements such as Slow Food, and committed practice by chefs and home cooks alike. Last week, the BlogHer Food Conference offered panel discussions on urban farming, canning, preserving and foraging. NOMA, the acclaimed Copenhagen restaurant crowned number one in the world this year, creates its menu from ingredients which are locally foraged. Times are changing and hopeful as we return to our land, our communities and our kitchens.

I do my best to buy locally grown food, grateful I live in a part of the country where we have an abundance. I remain mindful of what and how we eat, aware that this is a learning curve - a process to move through in order to change a pattern of living and eating into a way that feels intuitively correct. Yet, as I pat myself on my back, I cannot help but feel like a self-aggrandized neanderthal when I think of my husband's family in Denmark. My state of attempted permanent mindfulness is their norm, naturally and reflexively. While I write about it to convey an epiphany, they feel no need to articulate it, because it's their way of life. Like breathing.

When we lived in Denmark, and now when we return to visit, a frequent outing was to my sister and brother-in-law's farm in the countryside. Each visit culminated in a family dinner based on food harvested from their property. The last meal we shared with them went something like this:

It began with homemade salumi made of venison and duck hunted from the nearby forest.  As we nibbled on the lean slices of salami, my brother-in-law went outside to harvest bucketloads of crayfish from their lake. He returned with a basket teaming with crustaceans. In one arm he cradled a number of enormous porcini mushrooms, which he had spotted growing by a grove of trees on the way to the dock. In the meantime, after I had rather naively inquired as to whether there was a salad I could help make, my sister-in-law returned from her garden where she went to gather some vegetables. She profusely apologized that she did not have any lettuce, while she heaved her basket on to the table. It brimmed with heirloom tomatoes, chard, new potatoes, red potatoes, yellow carrots, crab apples, garlic, zucchini, crookneck squash, red onions and grapes. She declared that this was only one day's worth of a harvest. It should all be eaten, since there would be just as much to harvest tomorrow. So, we got cooking.

The porcinis were cleaned, sliced, and dressed with olive oil and salt. I made a salad of colorful heirloom tomatoes, red onion and chard; potatoes were roasted in olive oil and garlic; apples and carrots were sliced and put in lemon water for the children; we sautéed the zucchini and crookneck squash; the crayfish were boiled and cooled; homemade bread was warmed and sliced; the table was laid while we gamely tried to find room for all the plates and food. As we tucked into our meal, my brother-in-law told us to save some space for the pigeon and duck he had braising in the oven that he was eager for us to taste, adding that he had saved the largest porcini mushroom for a cream sauce which would accompany the birds.

This was a delicious, abundant meal created from food hunted or grown on the property. The further beauty of it was that there was no need for a written recipe. Each dish reflected the main ingredient, either cooked or raw, enhanced with salt, pepper, some olive oil, perhaps a little vinegar and lemon or a simple sauce. It was delicious and sating - a feast for a king despite our hosts' humble means.

I still have so much to learn.

 

Salad of Mixed Heirloom Tomatoes, Red Onion, Chard and Basil

Best made with vegetables picked from a garden you know. Serves 4-6.

2 pounds assorted baby heirloom tomatoes, sliced or halved, depending on size

2 cups mixed red and green chard leaves, stems removed

2 small red onions, peeled, thinly sliced

1 cup purple and green basil leaves, stems removed

1/2 cup extra-virgin olive oil

3 tablespoons balsamic vinegar

Sea salt and freshly ground black pepper

 

Arrange tomatoes in the center of a serving platter, alternating colors. Arrange chard leaves around the edge of the platter. Top tomatoes and chard with red onion slices. Garnish with basil leaves.

Drizzle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Sprinkle with salt and pepper.

 

 

In Season: Blood Orange and Olive Oil Cake

Blood oranges are in season in California. I never know if I should eat them or just look at them. Beautifully mottled in crimson on the outside, and strikingly hued in magenta, orange and burgundy within, they are a feast for the eyes as well as the palate. 

Native to Sicily, these orange gems have found their way around the world to eager consumers. In the US they grow from December to May, and now is the time to indulge in these citrus wonders. Tart and sweet with a hint of raspberry, their unique flavor complements sweet and savory dishes. 

This week we have been in blood orange heaven. I received 2 brimming bags of blood oranges from a friend who has a grove of citrus trees on her property. It's all she can do to harvest all of her fruit, and is always looking for takers. How could I say no?  Aside from eating the fruit straight up and juiced, blood oranges have found their way into salads, salsas, sauces and dressings in our meals of late. Yesterday I made a Blood Orange and Olive Oil Cake, not only with the citrus from my friend's property, but with the olive oil her family makes from their olive trees. With all this homegrown love, I immediately thought of GYO: Grow Your Own, the foodblogging event created by Andrea's Recipes and hosted this month by House of Annie. This is my contribution: Happy Spring!
 

  

Blood Orange and Olive Oil Cake

Makes one loaf

Finely grated zest of two blood oranges
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup freshly squeezed blood orange juice
3 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 3/4 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup fruity olive oil

Preheat oven to 350 F/180 C. Butter a loaf pan. Add zest to sugar in a large bowl and mix well to incorporate. Stir in buttermilk and juice. Add eggs one at a time, mixing well with each addition. Stir in vanilla.
Whisk flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt together in a separate bowl. Whisk into eggs. Fold in olive oil a little at a time. Pour into prepared pan. Bake until golden on top and center of a knife comes clean when inserted in the middle, about 1 hour. Remove and cool on rack 10 minutes. Remove from pan and cool completely. The flavors will develop if the cake can sit for several hours or overnight.

You might enjoy these other recipes with blood oranges from TasteFood:

Grilled Feta with Blood Orange, Red Pepper and Mint Salsa  

 Mint and Feta Stuffed Leg of Lamb with Balsamic Blood Orange Sauce 

Roasted Red Beet, Blood Orange and Ginger Soup

and these recipes with blood oranges from the foodblogs:
Blood Orange Cocktail from The Hungry Mouse
Blood Orange Tart from Lottie and Doof
Blood Orange Pots de Creme from Seriously Good
Pomegranate and Blood Orange Sorbet from Recipe Girl

   

Provençal Vegetable Tian with Goat Cheese and Basil Coulis

Tiring of Ratatouille?  I am a big fan of the Provençal-inspired stew of summer vegetables, but by the end of August I find myself seeking cues for inspiration in a hungry quest for different ways to use the heaps of squash, zucchini, eggplant and tomatoes harvested from our summer gardens.  So, prompted by this month's Grow Your Own event hosted by Andrea's Recipes, armed with a shiny new lime-green enameled cast iron pan, and inspired by a scrumptious article on tians in my favorite French magazine, Côté Sud,  I decided to create a Provençal Vegetable Tian with homegrown heirloom tomatoes and basil. 

Tian is the the French word for a casserole baked in an earthenware dish, layered with seasonal vegetables and cheese.  Originating in the south of France, and possibly influenced by the North African couscous pot, the ingredients are decoratively arranged and slow cooked for simple, rustic, flavorful results.  What better way to present a typically Provençal selection of vegetables than in a tian?  The sliced veggies are tossed in a coulis of puréed basil leaves, garlic and extra-virgin olive oil to give moisture and the unmistakable flavor of summer.  Crumbled soft goat cheese adds a creamy, tangy depth to this vegetarian dish.  Baked until the vegetables are tender but not too soft, this tian is delicious straight from the oven or even the next day.  Just like a good ratatouille - but different.

 

Provençal Vegetable Tian with Goat Cheese and Basil Coulis
Serves 4-6

2 cups loosely packed fresh basil leaves
1 garlic clove
Extra-virgin olive oil
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 medium, firm eggplant/aubergine, stemmed, quartered lengthwise, cut in 1/2" thick slices

3 large ripe vine or heirloom tomatoes, cut in 1/2" thick slices
2 small yellow onions, peeled and thinly sliced
2 red or orange sweet peppers, halved, seeded, cut in 2" square pieces
1 medium zucchini, cut in 1/4" thick slices
1 medium yellow squash or 2-3 large patty pan squash, cut in 1/4" thick slices
6 oz. (180 grams) fresh goat cheese, crumbled

Prepare Basil Coulis:
Combine basil and garlic in bowl of food processor. While the machine is running, pour in 1/3 cup (80 ml.) oil in steady stream until consistency resembles a vinaigrette; add more oil if necessary.  Season with salt and pepper to taste.  Set aside.

Grill Eggplant:
Arrange eggplant slices in one layer on oven tray.  Brush with olive oil and sprinkle with salt and pepper.  Grill in oven until eggplant turns golden brown and softens, about 8 minutes.  Remove from oven.

Assemble Tian:
Preheat oven to 325 F. (170 C.)
Lightly oil an earthenware baking/gratin dish.  In a large bowl, toss slices of grilled eggplant, tomatoes, onions, zucchini and yellow squash with 3/4 of the basil coulis.  Arrange slices overlapping on the diagonal in baking dish.  Crumble goat cheese over vegetables.  Sprinkle with salt and freshly ground black pepper. Bake in oven 50 minutes.  Remove and allow to cool briefly.  Drizzle remaining basil coulis over tian.  Garnish with whole basil leaves.  Serve warm or at room temperature.

 

Coriander on My Mind: Seared Sea Scallops with Cilantro Gremolata and Pea Purée

 

You say cilantro, I say coriander.  In the U.S. the leaves are called cilantro while the seeds are called coriander; in Europe the leaves are called coriander, while the seeds are called, er, coriander.  Whatever your linguistic disposition, this is one herb the world apparently can't live without.  Featured in the cuisines of the Middle East, North Africa, Europe and Asia, coriander has a culinary history dating back to King Tut: the seeds were found in his tomb.  Native to the Mediterranean, coriander was introduced to the Americas by the Europeans in the 1600's and has been growing like the dickens ever since, figuring prominently in American Southwestern, Mexican and Latin American cuisines. 

Also known as Chinese Parsley, the entire coriander plant is edible, including its root.  Its leaves and stems are best served fresh and used as a final addition to dishes, as the delicate leaves do not stand up well to cooking. Its seeds are the dried ripe fruit of the plant, frequently used whole for pickling and spicing, or toasted and finely ground into the dried spice known as coriander. 

Coriander is an acquired taste for many, including myself, but now I can't get enough of it.  Fortunately, in Northern California, the winters are mild, and I can grow coriander (or cilantro) in pots on my terrace year round.  Presently we have an abundance, and I know just what I will do with it: This month I am participating in the GYO (Grow Your Own) event hosted by the Daily Tiffin blog.  The concept is to create a recipe that features or uses something that has been growing in your garden - or pot, in my case.  I will harvest whole bunches of the coriander before it flowers, and make a Gremolata which I will serve with Seared Scallops and Pea Purée. 

Seared Sea Scallops with Cilantro Gremolata and Pea Purée
Serves 4 as main course, 8 as appetizer, or 16 amuse bouches

Simple as it sounds, a gremolata is extremely versatile. Use as a marinade or rub for fish, chicken and meat.  Toss with pasta and rice.  Mix into salads, tabbouleh, and salsas.  Use as a topping for crostini or garnish.  Its simplicity showcases the herb it features, whether it's cilantro, parsley, basil or mint.

For the Cilantro Gremolata:
1 cup finely chopped cilantro leaves and stems
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons finely grated lemon zest
Pinch sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

For the Spring Pea Purée:
2 cups shelled peas
1 garlic clove, minced
2 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper

16 large sea scallops (1 1/2 lb./750 g.)
Sea salt
Freshly ground black pepper
1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil

Prepare the Cilantro Gremolata:
Stir the cilantro, garlic and lemon zest together in a bowl.  Add salt and pepper to taste.  Set aside.

Prepare Pea Purée:
In a medium saucepan, bring 4 cups/1 liter of water to a boil. Add 1 teaspoon salt and the peas. Reduce heat and simmer until peas are tender. Remove from heat, drain peas, reserving 1 cup (240 ml.) cooking liquid.  Combine peas, garlic, 1/4 cup (60 ml.) reserved water, olive oil and lemon juice in food processor and purée until smooth. Add more water as necessary to achieve desired consistency. Keep warm.

Prepare the Sea Scallops:
Sprinkle sea scallops all over with salt and pepper.  Heat olive oil in skillet over medium-high heat.  Add scallops and cook, turning once, until brown on both sides and just cooked through, about 2 minutes per side.
While the scallops are cooking, spoon pea purée on serving plates.  Top with scallops.  Sprinkle scallops and purée with gremolata.  Drizzle lightly with extra-virgin olive oil. Sprinkle with freshly ground black pepper.  Serve immediately.

What to Drink?
Savignon Blanc, Dry Riesling, Chardonnay

 

Looking for other creative uses for cilantro?  Then try:
      Spicy Cilantro-Peanut Slaw from Kalyn's Kitchen
      Sesame and Cilantro Vermicelli Salad from Simply Recipes
      Roasted Yellow Tomato Salsa with Cilantro from Karina's Kitchen