Homework

Whooboy, it’s been a time around here, chickens.  I’m deep, deep in the crunch, though not yet in the weeds thank God, with a book deadline July 15.  So if postings get a little catch-as-catch can, fear not, it’s just that the book has eaten my head, my hands, and probably my cooking time, as well as pretty much everything else.

I did get to cook yesterday, though, as a celebration of both my finally finishing a complete draft of the whole book (cue vuvuzelas!) and a dear friend’s birthday (cue birthday cake!).  I made a Mexican feast: carnitas, frijoles, pico de gallo, veggies from the garden, sliced avocado, and bought a kilo of fine, fine tortillas from Tortilleria Sinaloa across town in Fell’s Point.  (I never want to live in a town without a good tortilleria again.)

So tonight I’m having leftovers.  Chopped chard and purslane from the garden topped with a bunch of carnitas and several large spoonfuls of pico de gallo.  In the little dish, some Korean-style pickled daikon.  And in the big quart Mason jar, a big ol’ vat of iced tea with plenty of lemon juice.  Just think of the pickled daikon as Korean curtido.  Muy rico no matter what.

Oh, I took photos.  But would they really express the satisfaction, a long day of writing behind me, an evening’s worth still to go, of spending a half an hour in the kitchen with the cool crispness of bok choy and cucumbers and scallions?  Would they convey the sizzle of the tofu hitting the hot oil in the wok, so loud it made me flinch even though I expected it?  I’m fairly sure they wouldn’t give the remotest impression of how mud-luscious (oh e.e.!) the sensation of mashing soaked fermented black beans with your fingertips can be, or how tantalizing the pungency that rises to the nose when you do it.  And as for the visceral gratification of whacking a peeled whole cucumber with the flat of a cleaver blade until it cracks into chunks, well, I think we can agree that no photograph could do that justice.

We ate a shrimp-broth based egg flower soup, black bean sauce tofu with bok choy, and smacked garlic cucumbers.  No rice, we usually don’t unless company’s in the offing, the better to spare my temperamental metabolic system.  Thumb-thick, winey-ripe blackberries for dessert.  Salutary indeed.

And so, back to work.

Some of this weekend’s greens haul, a nice smallish head of napa cabbage, was cut into ribbons, sauteed with onions and garlic, and used as a base for a fava bean and ham hock broth.   Some of the scraps of ham perch on top, for extra juju. Especially with a starchy broth like a bean broth, using greens as a base is an excellent idea, and balances the textures well, whereas using a starch like noodles or rice would just get stodgy.

And speaking of ham hock… Miriam asked, in a comment on the previous post, where to look for local, sustainably-farmed meat and poultry.  This will be a Baltimore-centric answer, so I hope that’s what you were looking for, Miriam.

For convenience, you can go to Mill Valley General Store, at 28th and Sisson (2800 Sisson St. is the actual address).  They’re open Thurs-Sun and they carry meats from Gunpowder Bison, Wagner’s, Five Cow Farm, and I think perhaps others.  I know they’re working on bringing in chickens also. Mill Valley also carries a fine, well-chosen selection of local dairy, eggs, and produce and the freshness is impeccable.  I am particularly fond of the Five Cow Farm beef, which is always salutary.

At the Waverly farmer’s market on Saturday mornings,  you’ll find Broom’s Bloom’s stall.  They sell chicken, pork, and lamb, as well as eggs, all raised north of town.  Gunpowder Bison also has a stall at Waverly.  I’m not sure if Truck Patch Farm is selling at Waverly or only at the downtown (Sunday) market this year, but if you like pork, Truck Patch is  my favorite and I recommend them highly. (Truck Patch is also bringing in beef, I seem to recall, starting nowish… haven’t tried it yet but I expect it’ll be good.)

There are a couple of other meat vendors at the Sunday market under the JFX, but I haven’t actually shopped around too much as I so often get my meat at the Saturday market or at Mill Valley.  One whose meat I can vouch for, though, is the goat from Jeanne Dietz-Band at Many Rocks Farm.  It’s very well reared, well cut, and of high quality.

My standbys are Truck Patch for pork, Many Rocks for goat, Broom’s Bloom for lamb, Gunpowder for bison, and Broom’s Bloom again for chicken.    That said, I keep an eye out for specials and unusual items as they show up.  I recently had a lovely beef heart from Broom’s, and this ham hock was from them as well.

Since a few folks have asked questions in comments to previous posts, I thought perhaps it might be interesting/useful to make it plain that I am happy to try to answer questions from readers.

I’ll also make a point of trying to answer them as separate posts, because it occurs to me that answering them in comments makes them hard to find, and unlikely to be stumbled upon by readers browsing blog entries or entry titles.

Do please ask your questions in a comment to this post — on the hanneblank.com/blog site, not in whatever other location you may be reading it as a feed (I’m talking to you, LiveJournal people who leave LJ comments on RSS feeds imported to LJ… ).  Or, if you prefer, you may email to hanne dot blank at gmail.  Or both, I suppose.

I look forward to hearing from you, either way.

I feel very fortunate today, for I have had the great good luck to become friends with the kind of people who will greet me with the phrase “I’ve got way too much produce on my hands, I need to get it out of here, take as much as you want.”

And who will then encourage you, as you are filling sacks upon sacks of amazing, beautiful, fresh veggies, to stuff your bags even more full.

My refrigerator is literally crammed, stuffed like a Strasbourg goose, with bags of bok choy and Chinese cabbage, kale, garlic scapes, collards, zucchini, spinach, and rocket.

I’ll be making garlic scape pesto later on, some of which will be tossed with sauteed zucchini.

The bok choy has a date with destiny in the form of mushrooms, garlic, and a hot wok.

The collards are already lined up to be shredded, steamed and put in the bottoms of bowls to have a brothy blend of fava beans and ham hock ladled over it.  Perhaps some browned garlic over the top, little semi-crisp, sweet garlicky, salty chips.  I made the beans and ham hock yesterday, needing to use up the hock, with no idea how I would serve them.  Now I know. Obviously I was just making something to go with the greens.

The rest will fall into place, and by “place” I mean our bellies, by and by.

I am grateful for the kindness of friends.

I’m dining alone tonight, my Belovedary down at Camden Yards watching the Orioles lose.  It’s a nice night for it.

Dining alone can be a challenge.  Even I sometimes get tempted not to bother cooking if it’s just me, especially when I am, as I am tonight, working late on a deadline.

I try, though, to do it anyway.  Gently, as a kindness, and not grumpily and rushed as if it were an insult to have to get some food into edible condition for my own continued upkeep.

The summer’s first slim zucchini, gently sauteed in olive oil with plenty of garlic and a pinch or so of dried crushed marjoram and oregano.  That’s the secret of zucchini that is meltingly tender but not disintegrating: slow, gentle sauteeing, not too much movement in the pan, use enough oil, and let things brown just a little to bring out the sweetness and provide a tiny bit of structurally crucial crust.

Eggs scrambled over a low heat with a couple handfuls of thinly chopped fat ends of sweet new green onions mixed in.

Salt, pepper, a glass of cold, smooth, friendly Vouvray that’s almost too sweet for this meal.

Here’s to solitude.

It occurred to me yesterday, as I stood in the SuperFresh reading labels on cartons of soy milk, trying in vain to find one that didn’t have sugar in it, that I don’t eat as well as I do — by which I mean a minimum of processed and prepared foods, virtually no junk food, plenty of good wholesome home-cooked whole foods prepared in tasty ways — because I’m so damn discriminating and disciplined.  Truth is, I often eat like I do because I’m picky, arrogant, and lazy.

I am forever picking up prepared foods in supermarkets, scanning the labels for hidden dairy products (to which I am allergic), and then, finding none and having no ostensible reason not to buy the items, I put them back on the shelf.

What goes through my head is not “No self-respecting foodie would eat something made in 5000 pound batches and shipped from Arkansas.”

It’s also not “Oh my God, I can’t believe I almost bought that nutritional nightmare, I can feel my arteries clanging shut at the mere thought of putting that in my mouth.”

It’s generally more along the lines of “Oh, the hell with it.  You know that is never going to taste as good as you think it will, and the texture will make you grumpy because the texture is never quite right in the pre-made versions, even though they sure do charge enough for it.  I mean, seven dollars!  That’s highway robbery!  Why should I pay someone to do poorly what I could do perfectly well for myself for less?  I could make it at home for four and then at least I’d know it tasted good, because at least I can trust myself not to screw up the texture…”

And then I go home and can’t be arsed to actually make whatever it is, because as it turns out I am not actually going to overcome the bounty of inertia with which I have been so copiously blessed to make my own batch of vegan coconut-lime sugar cookies  or deli-style mayonnaise-a-go-go potato salad or whatever it was that I was fondling with intent.

With the result that I am compelled to cook and eat what’s actually in my refrigerator and pantry, which, because I am that kind of person, is primarily occupied by a) bags of leaves, b) cartons of righteous all-volunteer eggs from groovy liberal-arts-degree chickens, c) many many bottles and jars of non-Western condiments, d) dried beans and whole grains, and e) garlic.

Virtue has nothing to do with it.

Goodness, Wednesday dinnertime already?  That was how I felt when I walked into the kitchen tonight, with honestly no idea what to cook.  But I had boiled a batch of chickpeas yesterday, and we had a pound of kale in the fridge.  Beans love greens and greens love beans, but how to make it interesting?

The answer I came up with was to roast the chickpeas in a very hot oven, with lightly smashed whole garlic cloves, olive oil, and some crushed dried Aleppo pepper… and to braise the kale in a bit of water until it was tender… and to make a bit of a ragout that would bridge the two.  The ragout was a quick and dirty one, several onions caramelized with oil, with a handful of oil-packed anchovies, then the leftover half a can of diced tomatoes left over from Monday’s dinner.  Simmered for a while, they made a lovely chunky sauce that went well with both the kale and the chickpeas.

I think I may make it again.  On purpose, next time.

Pazi dolmasi is Turkish stuffed chard.  Normally you’d make it with very large chard leaves, and stuff them with a meat or rice filling much as you would if you were making stuffed grape leaves.  Then they’d be baked, probably with a bit of tomatoey or lemony sauce to keep things moist.

The chard leaves in my garden are not very big yet, so I decided to deconstruct my “stuffed chard leaves” into a quicker, easier dish.  The filling, in this case, I made with some ground bison, because I happened to have some on hand.  You could use lamb, which would be more traditional, or a mix of roasted chopped eggplant and cooked rice, which would also be very nice. The chard is cut into ribbons, and then wilted in a hot cast-iron pan.  Because it’s young chard, the stems are no obstacle, and need only a little cooking.

This is a very approximate recipe

• 1 pound ground bison or lamb
• 2 small or one medium onion(s), diced
• 4-6 cloves garlic, roughly chopped
• approximately 1 tablespoon dried or fresh mint
• approximately 1 tablespoon dried or fresh dill weed
• small amount (a little more than 1/4 teaspoon) ground cardamom, or 2 large dried green cardamom pods, crushed
• small amount (about 1/4 teaspoon) ground allspice, or three dried allspice berries, crushed
• 1/2 teaspoon crushed dried red pepper
• freshly ground black pepper
• 1 cup diced fresh or canned tomato
• approximately 1/2 cup dried currants, tart cherries, chopped dried apricots, or other tart *unsweetened* dried fruit
• olive oil
• salt to taste

Heat a heavy pan until it’s extremely hot and add enough oil to put a light film over the bottom of the pan. Add the onion and saute until it is starting to get caramelized, then add the garlic and saute until fragrant.  Add the meat and break it up with a spoon or spatula. As the meat releases its juices and some fat, add the seasonings except for salt (don’t salt until the end), and continue to cook for 5-7 minutes.  Add the tomato and stir well, then add the dried fruit.  Simmer approximately 10 minutes, perhaps a little more; add a small amount of water if the pan begins to get dry.  Before serving, taste, and salt/pepper to taste.

Serve over a bed of chopped wilted or steamed chard.

This is a lovely savory dinner, easily made.  It can be stretched by combining the filling with an equal amount of cooked rice, if you desire. If you want a garnish, toast a handful of pine nuts in a dry heavy pan, and scatter them over the top.

The filling also makes a fantastic sandwich component, which means you need never worry about what to do with leftovers.  I recommend warm, fresh pita stuffed with a healthy handful of fresh lettuce or spinach, some sliced cucumber, and perhaps some thinly sliced radish, then a helping of this filling.  Drizzle your sandwich with plain yogurt or a mint-garlic yogurt, if you like.

Having written out my kimchi fried rice recipe last night, I thought I would follow up with a short list of essential stir-frying tips learned from many years of both excellent teachers and trial-and-error (which is sometimes the best teacher of all).

Equipment:

• Do not stir-fry in a nonstick pan.  Stir-frying requires very high temperatures and nonstick coatings can emit toxic gases (particularly fatal to birds) at high temperatures.
• Stir-fry over gas or live flame.  Period.  If you have only an electric or induction cooktop at your disposal, and you still want to stirfry, go to an Asian market and buy yourself a portable butane burner and a passel of cans of butane.  These are easy to use, safe, inexpensive, and deliver a reasonable number of BTUs for stir-frying.  You may also want one of these even if you do have a gas stove, because many Western home gas ranges have a pretty anemic output even at full blast.
• If you use a wok, make sure it’s stable when you set it on the burner.  Use a flat-bottomed wok, a good sturdy wok ring, or if you are lucky enough to find one, a cast-iron wok grate designed for Western-style stoves.  It’s too dangerous to do otherwise.   Don’t argue with me, you don’t like boiling oil burns any better than I do.

Prep:

• Do your prep first.  All of it.  Everything should be prepared before you heat the wok.  Sauces should be mixed, garnishes readied, every ingredient chopped or whatevered, and set aside in individual bowls.  90% of the time you spend making a stir-fried dish will be prep time.
• Arrange your mise-en-place so that you can reach everything easily from where you stand at the wok.  You won’t have time to go running around the kitchen to find things.
• Part of your prep is to have your serving bowls at the ready.  You won’t have time to go finding them once you start cooking.  Make sure they are in easy reach, clean, and ready to go.

Method:

• If you are afraid of using the highest heat your stovetop can put out, don’t bother stir-frying until you are comfortable with the idea.
• Use as much heat as you have at your disposal.  Every so often you will cook something where you’ll want to bring the heat down, when stir-frying, but traditionally this is done by moving the wok off the heat slightly, not by using a cooler flame.
• Hot pan, then cold oil.  Hot oil, then cold food.  What this means: the pan should be heated until it starts to smoke before you add anything else including cooking oil.  Once you add oil to a pan, it must get hot — not warm but hot — before you add the cold food.  Doing it any other way will lower the temperature of pan and oil too much and you will not be able to stir-fry anything.  Stir-frying requires keeping the pan at a consistently high heat.
• The pan should constantly talk to you.  If at any time after you start cooking there is not some kind of sizzling noise coming from the pan, you have overfilled it or there is too much liquid in the pan.  If either of these things is true you are no longer stir-frying.  (Note: sometimes you don’t want to stir-fry, and that’s okay, but if you are supposed to be stir-frying, make sure that’s what you’re doing.)
• Some things must be precooked before being stir-fried.  Stir-frying is a quick technique.  But not everything cooks quickly, or can.  Sometimes you will need to pre-cook things before you can stir-fry them.  Vegetables may need to be blanched.  Meats may need to be pre-cooked.  Noodles always need to be pre-cooked and well drained.  Things may also be stir-fried initially on their own, then removed from the pan, only to be added back into the stir-fry later on. Westerners often have this idea that stir-frying is invariably one-pot cooking and that stir-frying is the only cooking method that figures into any stir-fried dish.  This isn’t necessarily true.
• Some things must be drained and/or dried before being stir-fried.  Too much moisture in the wok results in a braise, not a stir-fry.  (And again, braises are fine things.  But they are not stir-fries.)  With too much moisture, things won’t cook the way you want them to, and textures will be mushy.  It is easier to add liquid than it is to take it out, so dry and drain things well, especially vegetables after washing.
• Do not expect to be able to clean as you go.  You won’t have the time.  You will finish stir-frying with a stack of dirty dishes from your mise-en-place, a dirty wok, a dirty wok spatula, and a hot meal that is ready to be eaten.  This is as it should be.  Go eat while the food is fresh and hot and good, then come back and clean up after.