3-4 hard-boiled eggs (depending on amount of chicken used)
10-oz pouch or 12-oz can chicken breast, drained
1 small or medium apple, cored and diced, peeling optional, or a handful of dried fruit (golden raisins are good)
enough mayonnaise to stick it together, very approximately 2-3 Tbsp
1 tsp curry powder, plus to taste, optional
Mash eggs with a fork. Break up the chicken and stir in. Add apple (or other fruit), a spoonful of mayo, and a tsp of curry powder (if using). Stir together, adding more mayo if needed (this will vary greatly depending on how well you manage to drain the chicken). Add more curry powder if needed; remember that the flavor will strengthen overnight. Serve on a lettuce leaf or make into a sandwich (I recommend a seedy or cracked-grain bread).
Before using, check whether you need to add mayo or curry powder.
The rest of the story
I've had a few curried chicken sandwiches and liked them; so I tried to make some, using the same method as I do for tuna sandwiches, and it came out pretty good (although not as high in iron as the tuna). Also, our excellent local Food Bank hasn't always had tuna this year (I heard somewhere last spring that their demand had increased 500% with the pandemic), so I was looking for things to do with the chicken they've sometimes substituted. You could probably make this with tuna instead, why not? It's an excellent way to use up apples that are starting to lose their crispness but are still good (and have some crunch left); you don't notice the soft edges through the squishy rest of it.
This recipe should also work with chopped celery instead of the apple, but I haven't tried it that way yet. If you're eating it on boring white bread, you can try adding some chopped nuts or sunflower seeds as well (I find it a bit too crunchy on good bread, YMMV). If you don't like curry, cinnamon might be good instead, but I haven't tried that either. For a hotter curry, add a dash of cayenne pepper.
BTW, if you find that regular eggs don't really agree with you, try cage-free or even organic eggs (not if you have a full allergy, of course). I know they claim there's no difference, but those tests were probably controlled for things like diet. I'm one of several people I know who find it's worth springing for a slightly better egg; and things with eggs in them, like mayo and ice cream.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
Showing posts with label dana. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dana. Show all posts
21 September, 2020
12 July, 2020
Pork chops and pears agridouce
2 thick pork chops
pepper to taste
1/2 tsp. ground ginger, to taste
approx. 1 Tbsp. oil
2 firm winter pears, such as Bosc
1 Tbsp. lemon juice (optional)
1/2 -1 tsp. ground cinnamon
3 Tbsp. brown sugar
approx. 2 tsp. butter (optional)
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
Put a little oil in a skillet, just enough for frying, and add pepper and ginger. Stir and heat gently until ginger starts to darken, then add pork chops and brown. Place in a baking dish large enough to hold chops and pears in a single layer (best if it’s a very cozy layer, though). Peel pears, cut in half and core. Place cut side up in the dish and sprinkle with the lemon juice. Put a dab of butter in the cavity of each pear. Mix cinnamon and sugar and sprinkle over chops and pears. Pour vinegar over it all. Cover and bake at 350F for 40 minutes. Remove cover and cook another 10 minutes or until chops are cooked through.
Makes two servings (with lots of extra liquid that might be good for cooking rice in)
Adapted from: Cooking for two today / Jean Hewitt.
The rest of the story
I use agridouce here to connote a Euro/Western kind of sweet-and-sour that is more common in classical and medieval recipes but has almost disappeared from modern ones.
The original recipe called for dry sherry, but I don't usually care for any kind of wine in my food (it's rotten grape juice, after all, and no matter how carefully it's been rotted, it still tastes like rotten grape juice to me and you're welcome to it). Usually I substitute an appropriate broth, but this time I didn't have any on hand; what I did have was a nice bottle of balsamic vinegar. So I thought, same stuff fermented with a different yeast, that's all, and tried it.
This also works with thinner chops, but you'll need to adjust the cooking time. It's really best with 1-inch, bone-in chops, but quite forgiving. Don't use Bartlett-type eating/dessert pears, they go to mush when baked.
A couple of other little caveats:
- 3 Tbsps looks like a LOT of sugar, but use it all for your first attempt; if it really comes out too sweet you can cut it back next time, but you've got all that vinegar to balance.
- Be careful taking the lid off, and even just opening the oven; there's a wave of vinegar steam lying in wait to attack your eyeballs and sinus membranes if you give it half a chance!
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
pepper to taste
1/2 tsp. ground ginger, to taste
approx. 1 Tbsp. oil
2 firm winter pears, such as Bosc
1 Tbsp. lemon juice (optional)
1/2 -1 tsp. ground cinnamon
3 Tbsp. brown sugar
approx. 2 tsp. butter (optional)
1/4 cup balsamic vinegar
Put a little oil in a skillet, just enough for frying, and add pepper and ginger. Stir and heat gently until ginger starts to darken, then add pork chops and brown. Place in a baking dish large enough to hold chops and pears in a single layer (best if it’s a very cozy layer, though). Peel pears, cut in half and core. Place cut side up in the dish and sprinkle with the lemon juice. Put a dab of butter in the cavity of each pear. Mix cinnamon and sugar and sprinkle over chops and pears. Pour vinegar over it all. Cover and bake at 350F for 40 minutes. Remove cover and cook another 10 minutes or until chops are cooked through.
Makes two servings (with lots of extra liquid that might be good for cooking rice in)
Adapted from: Cooking for two today / Jean Hewitt.
The rest of the story
I use agridouce here to connote a Euro/Western kind of sweet-and-sour that is more common in classical and medieval recipes but has almost disappeared from modern ones.
The original recipe called for dry sherry, but I don't usually care for any kind of wine in my food (it's rotten grape juice, after all, and no matter how carefully it's been rotted, it still tastes like rotten grape juice to me and you're welcome to it). Usually I substitute an appropriate broth, but this time I didn't have any on hand; what I did have was a nice bottle of balsamic vinegar. So I thought, same stuff fermented with a different yeast, that's all, and tried it.
This also works with thinner chops, but you'll need to adjust the cooking time. It's really best with 1-inch, bone-in chops, but quite forgiving. Don't use Bartlett-type eating/dessert pears, they go to mush when baked.
A couple of other little caveats:
- 3 Tbsps looks like a LOT of sugar, but use it all for your first attempt; if it really comes out too sweet you can cut it back next time, but you've got all that vinegar to balance.
- Be careful taking the lid off, and even just opening the oven; there's a wave of vinegar steam lying in wait to attack your eyeballs and sinus membranes if you give it half a chance!
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
02 March, 2020
Chick/chick
or, Chicken and chickpeas (garbanzos)
about 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken (thighs recommended)
1/4 cup chopped onion, to taste
1/4 cup chopped celery, to taste
1-2 chopped carrots, to taste (optional)
15.5-oz can or about 2 cups cooked garbanzos (chickpeas), drained if appropriate
1/4 to 1/2 cup barbecue sauce, to taste
Boneless, skinless chicken thighs usually come sort of rolled back around the space where the bone was; if your slow cooker is big enough, unroll them and lay them flat over the bottom (optional: it just lets them cook more quickly and makes them easier to shred). If using chicken breasts, cut them into 2-5 pieces. Top with the onion, celery, and carrots, cover, and cook about two hours, until the chicken is done and starting to break apart when poked. Add garbanzos and at least enough barbecue sauce to moisten everything well. Continue to cook (still covered) until the garbanzos are heated through, and up to another hour or so. Freezes well, especially if you leave out the carrots (they can be a bit grainy after freezing).
This one was a plain case of "what the .... can I do with these garbanzos without going to the grocery store?"
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
about 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken (thighs recommended)
1/4 cup chopped onion, to taste
1/4 cup chopped celery, to taste
1-2 chopped carrots, to taste (optional)
15.5-oz can or about 2 cups cooked garbanzos (chickpeas), drained if appropriate
1/4 to 1/2 cup barbecue sauce, to taste
Boneless, skinless chicken thighs usually come sort of rolled back around the space where the bone was; if your slow cooker is big enough, unroll them and lay them flat over the bottom (optional: it just lets them cook more quickly and makes them easier to shred). If using chicken breasts, cut them into 2-5 pieces. Top with the onion, celery, and carrots, cover, and cook about two hours, until the chicken is done and starting to break apart when poked. Add garbanzos and at least enough barbecue sauce to moisten everything well. Continue to cook (still covered) until the garbanzos are heated through, and up to another hour or so. Freezes well, especially if you leave out the carrots (they can be a bit grainy after freezing).
This one was a plain case of "what the .... can I do with these garbanzos without going to the grocery store?"
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
21 July, 2019
Chicken and peach in barbecue sauce
1 large chicken breast half (about 1 lb or a little less) cut stir-fry style (skinned, boned, cut across the grain in 1/4-inch or thinner slices) -- pork would also work
oil for cooking, if needed
about 1/2 Tbsp ground ginger, to taste
1-2 tsp garlic powder, or 1 clove garlic, crushed, to taste
1 large peach, pit removed, peeled, sliced in 8-10 slices
1/4 cup each chopped onion and celery, or to taste
barbecue sauce to lightly coat
Start chicken cooking over low heat, in a little oil if needed to prevent sticking (if using a non-stick frying pan, you probably won't need any oil). Sprinkle generously with ginger and garlic powder. Prepare the peach; unless you're a lot faster than me, this will take about as long as the chicken's head start should be. When the chicken is mostly cooked -- chicken white (but ideally not browned) on the outside but probably not done in the middle, check the amount of liquid in the pan; pour off some if needed, it should be moist but still more frying than boiling. Add the peach slices, onion, and celery. Sprinkle again with ginger if desired. Turn up the heat to about medium and saute/stir-fry slowly a few minutes. Drizzle with barbecue sauce, stir in, and continue cooking until peach slices are soft and chicken is done.
The rest of the story
First, a note on barbecue sauces: I like the really vinegar-tangy ones generally, and especially in this dish. If you prefer a sweeter sauce, you may want to add a little extra vinegar here or it'll come out pretty sweet.
This is another of my "what needs to be used up?" inventions. I'm very fond of mixing fruit with meat, so when the Food Bank gave me peaches that needed to be used up LAST week, this was the natural result.
I've since gotten some crescent roll dough and thawed some ground turkey; this week's peaches will go into a similar recipe using the ground turkey instead of the chicken breast (ground pork would probably work too, but I have a lot of ground turkey to use up), cutting the peaches into smaller pieces, and wrapping the result in crescent roll dough to make little pies.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
oil for cooking, if needed
about 1/2 Tbsp ground ginger, to taste
1-2 tsp garlic powder, or 1 clove garlic, crushed, to taste
1 large peach, pit removed, peeled, sliced in 8-10 slices
1/4 cup each chopped onion and celery, or to taste
barbecue sauce to lightly coat
Start chicken cooking over low heat, in a little oil if needed to prevent sticking (if using a non-stick frying pan, you probably won't need any oil). Sprinkle generously with ginger and garlic powder. Prepare the peach; unless you're a lot faster than me, this will take about as long as the chicken's head start should be. When the chicken is mostly cooked -- chicken white (but ideally not browned) on the outside but probably not done in the middle, check the amount of liquid in the pan; pour off some if needed, it should be moist but still more frying than boiling. Add the peach slices, onion, and celery. Sprinkle again with ginger if desired. Turn up the heat to about medium and saute/stir-fry slowly a few minutes. Drizzle with barbecue sauce, stir in, and continue cooking until peach slices are soft and chicken is done.
The rest of the story
First, a note on barbecue sauces: I like the really vinegar-tangy ones generally, and especially in this dish. If you prefer a sweeter sauce, you may want to add a little extra vinegar here or it'll come out pretty sweet.
This is another of my "what needs to be used up?" inventions. I'm very fond of mixing fruit with meat, so when the Food Bank gave me peaches that needed to be used up LAST week, this was the natural result.
I've since gotten some crescent roll dough and thawed some ground turkey; this week's peaches will go into a similar recipe using the ground turkey instead of the chicken breast (ground pork would probably work too, but I have a lot of ground turkey to use up), cutting the peaches into smaller pieces, and wrapping the result in crescent roll dough to make little pies.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
24 April, 2019
Honey-glazed shrimp (3 versions)
Version 1 is my solo version of the recreation of an ancient Greek dish from Dalby, Andrew; Grainger, Sally, The Classical Cookbook. J. Paul Getty Museum, 1996. ISBN: 0892363940
Versions 2 and 3 are honey-vinegar variations I tried; they're not bad, but kind of bland.
Version 1: classical Greek version
per person:
4 oz. cooked shrimp, fully thawed and drained if frozen, shelled if appropriate
1/2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. fish sauce
1/2 Tbsp. honey
garnish:
generous pinch dried oregano
pepper to taste
Version 2: agridouce (sweet and sour) version
per person:
4 oz. cooked shrimp, fully thawed and drained if frozen, shelled if appropriate
1/2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp. water
1/2 Tbsp. honey
garnish:
pepper to taste
Version 3: sesame version
per person:
4 oz. cooked shrimp, fully thawed and drained if frozen, shelled if appropriate
1/2 Tbsp. toasted sesame oil
1 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar
1/2 Tbsp. honey
1/2 Tbsp. soy sauce or water
garnish:
1 tsp. toasted sesame seeds, to taste
pepper to taste
Saute ingredients (except garnish) 2-3 minutes, until shrimp are heated through but still tender. Remove shrimp and keep warm. Reduce sauce by half and pour over shrimp; sprinkle with garnish. Serve as an appetizer, with nice crusty bread, or over rice or noodles as a first course.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
Versions 2 and 3 are honey-vinegar variations I tried; they're not bad, but kind of bland.
Version 1: classical Greek version
per person:
4 oz. cooked shrimp, fully thawed and drained if frozen, shelled if appropriate
1/2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. fish sauce
1/2 Tbsp. honey
garnish:
generous pinch dried oregano
pepper to taste
Version 2: agridouce (sweet and sour) version
per person:
4 oz. cooked shrimp, fully thawed and drained if frozen, shelled if appropriate
1/2 Tbsp. olive oil
1 Tbsp. balsamic vinegar
1 Tbsp. water
1/2 Tbsp. honey
garnish:
pepper to taste
Version 3: sesame version
per person:
4 oz. cooked shrimp, fully thawed and drained if frozen, shelled if appropriate
1/2 Tbsp. toasted sesame oil
1 Tbsp. rice wine vinegar
1/2 Tbsp. honey
1/2 Tbsp. soy sauce or water
garnish:
1 tsp. toasted sesame seeds, to taste
pepper to taste
Saute ingredients (except garnish) 2-3 minutes, until shrimp are heated through but still tender. Remove shrimp and keep warm. Reduce sauce by half and pour over shrimp; sprinkle with garnish. Serve as an appetizer, with nice crusty bread, or over rice or noodles as a first course.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
18 March, 2019
Moroccan chicken thighs
6 boneless, skinless chicken thighs (about 1 to 1 1/4 lb)
2 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. pepper
1/4 tsp. turmeric
dash allspice
1/4 to 1/3 c chopped figs
Arrange thighs in a single layer in a slow cooker; top with spices (adjusting all quantities to taste) and fig pieces, stirring to coat. Cook on medium about 2 to 2 1/2 hours; stir and reduce heat to lowest setting. Serve over rice, coucous, or noodles.
Adapted from: Healthy slow cooker cookbook / American Heart Assoc. (9780307888020) (although so freely it might be more accurate to say "inspired by...")
Notes and comments
The food bank often has boneless, skinless chicken thighs, which happen to be my favorite type of chicken, so I'm lucky. I particularly like them in paella, but that's enough work that it's more of a company dish, so I watch for other recipes.
This was my first experiment with this recipe, and it's a lot of cumin. It's kind of bland otherwise, so I think if I make it again I'll halve the paprika, omit the cumin, double the cinnamon, and add a small amount of ground cayenne pepper. And maybe add more figs. And some garlic and ginger -- I add garlic and ginger to just about everything. At that point it's practically Orange Cinnamon Chicken, so I'll probably just make that instead. But if you really like cumin, here's your new chicken thigh dish.
One problem, not the recipe's fault, was that one of my spices was not ground finely enough; the dish ended up slightly gritty. Maybe changing spices would fix this, or maybe you should re-grind your spices before adding them.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
2 tsp. paprika
1 tsp. cumin
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. pepper
1/4 tsp. turmeric
dash allspice
1/4 to 1/3 c chopped figs
Arrange thighs in a single layer in a slow cooker; top with spices (adjusting all quantities to taste) and fig pieces, stirring to coat. Cook on medium about 2 to 2 1/2 hours; stir and reduce heat to lowest setting. Serve over rice, coucous, or noodles.
Adapted from: Healthy slow cooker cookbook / American Heart Assoc. (9780307888020) (although so freely it might be more accurate to say "inspired by...")
Notes and comments
The food bank often has boneless, skinless chicken thighs, which happen to be my favorite type of chicken, so I'm lucky. I particularly like them in paella, but that's enough work that it's more of a company dish, so I watch for other recipes.
This was my first experiment with this recipe, and it's a lot of cumin. It's kind of bland otherwise, so I think if I make it again I'll halve the paprika, omit the cumin, double the cinnamon, and add a small amount of ground cayenne pepper. And maybe add more figs. And some garlic and ginger -- I add garlic and ginger to just about everything. At that point it's practically Orange Cinnamon Chicken, so I'll probably just make that instead. But if you really like cumin, here's your new chicken thigh dish.
One problem, not the recipe's fault, was that one of my spices was not ground finely enough; the dish ended up slightly gritty. Maybe changing spices would fix this, or maybe you should re-grind your spices before adding them.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
03 March, 2019
Slow-cooker turkey with cranberries
skinless turkey breast half or 2 turkey breast tenderloins (1 1/2-2 lbs)
up to 1 Thsp vegetable or olive oil
up to 2 yellow onions, thinly sliced, to taste
2/3 cup port (optional)
2 cups chicken or turkey broth
1 Tbsp cornstarch
8 oz. dried cranberries
1 stick cinnamon or 1/2 Tbsp ground cinnamon
1 orange or tangerine, peel on (but washed and blemishes trimmed off), thinly sliced
Trim fat from turkey if needed; place turkey in slow cooker and start it warming while you make the sauce.
Cook onions in oil until lightly browned, about 10 min. Combine port or some of the broth with cornstarch, mixing to remove lumps. Add to onions and stir well. Add remaining stock and simmer, stirring, about 7 min., until sauce thickens and becomes translucent. If using ground cinnamon, stir it into sauce now.
Pour sauce over turkey. Cover with cranberries and orange slices; add cinnamon stick if using that form. Cover and cook on low 6-8 hr., until turkey is done and sauce is thick.
Adapted fom: The gourmet slow cooker, vol. II : regional comfort-food classics / Lynn Alley. Ten Speed Press, 2006. 9781580087322
The rest of the story
Our local food bank often has turkey -- especially ground turkey, but larger chunks are frequently available. They also have a lot of chicken, but I've been trying to get more protein and iron and it seems turkey is the thing for that. So I dug around and found this turkey recipe.
Not too surprisingly, it turned out pretty similar to cinnamon orange chicken, a little less bland with the cranberries and not quite so much in need of rice or noodles under it. I wonder how it would come out with cranberry juice (real juice, not that flavored sugar-water "cranberry juice cocktail" stuff) instead of some or all of the broth. Hmm, and maybe ginger, cardamom, and/or grains of paradise with the cinnamon. When cranberry season comes around next year I'd also like to try it with fresh cranberries (by the time I finish this batch, get another suitable package of turkey, and want to make it again this season will be over). In the meantime I've got quite a lot of chopped figs....
Possibly it was supposed to be more oniony. I only used 1/2 cup of pre-chopped, frozen onions, since I consider onions more of a seasoning than a vegetable.
The food bank tends to have lots of onions in the late fall and winter, but like supermarkets they usually only have fairly large ones, much bigger than I'm going to use in one dish. I've read that it's not healthy to keep an onion once it's been cut, so I could potentially waste a lot of half onions here. So instead, I bring home several onions, chop them up while I'm hanging about the kitchen watching something cook, and stick them in the freezer. This way I have actual onions ready to go, no more bother than onion powder but a lot nicer. I'm unlikely to make stuffed onions or use the things in huge honking wedges, so that pretty much covers my onion needs. If I did decide to use larger pieces of onion, I could always start again with a new onion; the frozen ones will keep.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
up to 1 Thsp vegetable or olive oil
up to 2 yellow onions, thinly sliced, to taste
2/3 cup port (optional)
2 cups chicken or turkey broth
1 Tbsp cornstarch
8 oz. dried cranberries
1 stick cinnamon or 1/2 Tbsp ground cinnamon
1 orange or tangerine, peel on (but washed and blemishes trimmed off), thinly sliced
Trim fat from turkey if needed; place turkey in slow cooker and start it warming while you make the sauce.
Cook onions in oil until lightly browned, about 10 min. Combine port or some of the broth with cornstarch, mixing to remove lumps. Add to onions and stir well. Add remaining stock and simmer, stirring, about 7 min., until sauce thickens and becomes translucent. If using ground cinnamon, stir it into sauce now.
Pour sauce over turkey. Cover with cranberries and orange slices; add cinnamon stick if using that form. Cover and cook on low 6-8 hr., until turkey is done and sauce is thick.
Adapted fom: The gourmet slow cooker, vol. II : regional comfort-food classics / Lynn Alley. Ten Speed Press, 2006. 9781580087322
The rest of the story
Our local food bank often has turkey -- especially ground turkey, but larger chunks are frequently available. They also have a lot of chicken, but I've been trying to get more protein and iron and it seems turkey is the thing for that. So I dug around and found this turkey recipe.
Not too surprisingly, it turned out pretty similar to cinnamon orange chicken, a little less bland with the cranberries and not quite so much in need of rice or noodles under it. I wonder how it would come out with cranberry juice (real juice, not that flavored sugar-water "cranberry juice cocktail" stuff) instead of some or all of the broth. Hmm, and maybe ginger, cardamom, and/or grains of paradise with the cinnamon. When cranberry season comes around next year I'd also like to try it with fresh cranberries (by the time I finish this batch, get another suitable package of turkey, and want to make it again this season will be over). In the meantime I've got quite a lot of chopped figs....
Possibly it was supposed to be more oniony. I only used 1/2 cup of pre-chopped, frozen onions, since I consider onions more of a seasoning than a vegetable.
The food bank tends to have lots of onions in the late fall and winter, but like supermarkets they usually only have fairly large ones, much bigger than I'm going to use in one dish. I've read that it's not healthy to keep an onion once it's been cut, so I could potentially waste a lot of half onions here. So instead, I bring home several onions, chop them up while I'm hanging about the kitchen watching something cook, and stick them in the freezer. This way I have actual onions ready to go, no more bother than onion powder but a lot nicer. I'm unlikely to make stuffed onions or use the things in huge honking wedges, so that pretty much covers my onion needs. If I did decide to use larger pieces of onion, I could always start again with a new onion; the frozen ones will keep.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
18 November, 2018
Turkish Delight (Lokoum)
2 1/2 cups water
4 cups sugar
1 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup fruit juice*, whatever flavor you like (grape juice, orange juice, etc.)
1 tsp cream of tartar
a few drops of food coloring (optional)
toasted chopped nuts (optional)
oil for coating pan
powdered sugar for coating
Bring water to a boil; stir in sugar until thoroughly dissolved. Mix cornstarch with juice and cream of tartar, stirring to remove any lumps. Gradually stir into boiling syrup. Continue cooking, stirring frequently, 20 min or to 220F. Add food coloring and nuts if desired. Pour into an oiled 7" square cake pan and let stand until set and cooled. Cut into 1" squares and dust with powdered sugar (one method is to shake a few squares at a time in a plastic bag filled with powdered sugar).
*Make sure you've got 100% juice, preferably unsweetened; juice drinks can be as much as 90% sugar water and what you're really after here is the flavor, you'll be adding plenty of sugar yourself.
Adapted from something called Eastern Mediterranean Cooking; sorry, I didn't record the full citation.
So,
a few weeks ago I was standing in line, waiting my turn at... let's call it "the miscellaneous station" at the food bank, where they give out oddball items like crackers, pop, salad dressing, or that awfu... I mean, ahem, that interesting "baconesque" popcorn. I could see around the couple of people in front of me, in a basket of assorted strange things, a box of Aplets and Cotlets. Yum! But there was only one box, would one of the people in front of me snag it? The first one chose coffee; bleh, but OK, that's popular. Good. The next one chose... chiles en adobo? Really, canned peppers over Aplets and Cotlets? Well, no accounting for taste and all that, and my gain, but really? Of course, once I got it home I saw that it was a little over a year past its pull date, but it was still perfectly good, only a little dried out at the edges.
Then I remembered I'd once copied off a recipe for lokoum, the original sweet that inspired Aplets and Cotlets, so I dug it out to share.
My grandmother (the southern matriarch one, not the butterboo one) lived in Cashmere for many years, and when I was about in my "tweens" she took me on the Aplets and Cotlets factory tour. In those days they only made the two products, and their factory was a smallish place in the middle of town; I'm sure they've grown and probably moved since then. They've certainly added more products. The thing is, that tour was one of the first times I was conscious of a product being local and localness being significant. Of course, at the time I thought it was a national brand and was impressed; now I think it's even cooler that it's a special regional delicacy.
And yes, I know some people think it's inedible. Some people like nasty things like coffee and blueberries and cream cheese frosting, so we'll all just have to agree to disagree and rejoice in our diversity. Anything else would be boring.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
4 cups sugar
1 cup cornstarch
3/4 cup fruit juice*, whatever flavor you like (grape juice, orange juice, etc.)
1 tsp cream of tartar
a few drops of food coloring (optional)
toasted chopped nuts (optional)
oil for coating pan
powdered sugar for coating
Bring water to a boil; stir in sugar until thoroughly dissolved. Mix cornstarch with juice and cream of tartar, stirring to remove any lumps. Gradually stir into boiling syrup. Continue cooking, stirring frequently, 20 min or to 220F. Add food coloring and nuts if desired. Pour into an oiled 7" square cake pan and let stand until set and cooled. Cut into 1" squares and dust with powdered sugar (one method is to shake a few squares at a time in a plastic bag filled with powdered sugar).
*Make sure you've got 100% juice, preferably unsweetened; juice drinks can be as much as 90% sugar water and what you're really after here is the flavor, you'll be adding plenty of sugar yourself.
Adapted from something called Eastern Mediterranean Cooking; sorry, I didn't record the full citation.
So,
a few weeks ago I was standing in line, waiting my turn at... let's call it "the miscellaneous station" at the food bank, where they give out oddball items like crackers, pop, salad dressing, or that awfu... I mean, ahem, that interesting "baconesque" popcorn. I could see around the couple of people in front of me, in a basket of assorted strange things, a box of Aplets and Cotlets. Yum! But there was only one box, would one of the people in front of me snag it? The first one chose coffee; bleh, but OK, that's popular. Good. The next one chose... chiles en adobo? Really, canned peppers over Aplets and Cotlets? Well, no accounting for taste and all that, and my gain, but really? Of course, once I got it home I saw that it was a little over a year past its pull date, but it was still perfectly good, only a little dried out at the edges.
Then I remembered I'd once copied off a recipe for lokoum, the original sweet that inspired Aplets and Cotlets, so I dug it out to share.
My grandmother (the southern matriarch one, not the butterboo one) lived in Cashmere for many years, and when I was about in my "tweens" she took me on the Aplets and Cotlets factory tour. In those days they only made the two products, and their factory was a smallish place in the middle of town; I'm sure they've grown and probably moved since then. They've certainly added more products. The thing is, that tour was one of the first times I was conscious of a product being local and localness being significant. Of course, at the time I thought it was a national brand and was impressed; now I think it's even cooler that it's a special regional delicacy.
And yes, I know some people think it's inedible. Some people like nasty things like coffee and blueberries and cream cheese frosting, so we'll all just have to agree to disagree and rejoice in our diversity. Anything else would be boring.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
18 September, 2018
Potato harvest time
Fried potatoes with fennel
1/2 to 1 bulb fennel, to taste
a handful of potatoes (i.e. as many potatoes as you care to hold in one hand -- one big one, two medium ones, several small ones)
butter or oil for cooking
a little salt and plenty of pepper
Remove stalks and fronds from the fennel (save them for your next fish bake or some other use); separate the bulb into ribs, trim, and wash. Slice across the ribs, rather like chopping celery, to make strips no more than 1/4 inch wide (that is, the pieces should be the width of the fennel rib by about 1/8 to 1/4 inch); set aside. Scrub or peel the potatoes, depending on their age and your preference, and slice them no more than 1/4 inch thick. If desired, cut cross-wise into french-fry-like sticks, but they can also be cooked as disks or half disks. Get the potatoes cooking over moderate heat in the butter or oil, season, and add the fennel strips. Spread out the pieces as much as possible so they get a chance to brown, especially the potatoes, and turn them frequently until done and lightly browned in many places. Serves one as a meal, 2-3 as a side dish.
The rest of the story
Last weekend I helped harvest potatoes for the food bank, getting covered with dirt in the process and pulling a few muscles. I love digging potatoes -- well, technically someone else did the actual digging, I got to crawl around in the dirt collecting them as the shovel exposed them.
Digging potatoes is a bit like hunting for buried treasure, only the result is more certain. Or maybe more like a subterranean Easter egg hunt; in any case, I had a couple of hours of fun and the food bank got crates of lovely red-skinned potatoes. So I thought I'd post a nice simple recipe.
There should still be fennel available; if not, you can always bake them in cream instead.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
1/2 to 1 bulb fennel, to taste
a handful of potatoes (i.e. as many potatoes as you care to hold in one hand -- one big one, two medium ones, several small ones)
butter or oil for cooking
a little salt and plenty of pepper
Remove stalks and fronds from the fennel (save them for your next fish bake or some other use); separate the bulb into ribs, trim, and wash. Slice across the ribs, rather like chopping celery, to make strips no more than 1/4 inch wide (that is, the pieces should be the width of the fennel rib by about 1/8 to 1/4 inch); set aside. Scrub or peel the potatoes, depending on their age and your preference, and slice them no more than 1/4 inch thick. If desired, cut cross-wise into french-fry-like sticks, but they can also be cooked as disks or half disks. Get the potatoes cooking over moderate heat in the butter or oil, season, and add the fennel strips. Spread out the pieces as much as possible so they get a chance to brown, especially the potatoes, and turn them frequently until done and lightly browned in many places. Serves one as a meal, 2-3 as a side dish.
The rest of the story
Last weekend I helped harvest potatoes for the food bank, getting covered with dirt in the process and pulling a few muscles. I love digging potatoes -- well, technically someone else did the actual digging, I got to crawl around in the dirt collecting them as the shovel exposed them.
Digging potatoes is a bit like hunting for buried treasure, only the result is more certain. Or maybe more like a subterranean Easter egg hunt; in any case, I had a couple of hours of fun and the food bank got crates of lovely red-skinned potatoes. So I thought I'd post a nice simple recipe.
There should still be fennel available; if not, you can always bake them in cream instead.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
11 September, 2018
Nectarines
native to: probably China
in season in the Puget Sound region: July-August
Contrary to rumor, nectarines are not a hybrid of peaches and plums. Their scientific name is Prunus persica var. nucipersica or nectarina, meaning that taxonomists consider them a variety or breed of peach. They're a member of the Rosaceae family, related to plums, almonds, and damsons. Their flesh can be golden yellow or creamy white. As with many fruits and vegetables, white nectarines are generally sweeter while yellow-fleshed ones have more flavor. Most of the nectarines you'll find for sale are clingstones, meaning the flesh does not readily separate from the pit, but freestone varieties do exist. Nectarine trees require a cold winter to stimulate blossom production.
Nectarines originated in China at least a millennium ago and spread to Persia (hence the "persica" in their scientific name), then to Greece and Rome. The reached Great Britain around 1600 and were brought to the Americas by the Spanish.
Nectarines are rich in vitamins A, several Bs, C, E, K and also provide minerals and electrolytes such as potassium, phosphorous, magnesium, iron, zinc, copper, and calcium. They have antioxidants like polyphenols and carotenoids such as beta-carotene and cryptoxanthin, and their fiber is good for digestion. They also contain anthocyanins, catechin, chlorogenic acid, and quercetin derivatives, which combat obesity-related problems, and their vitamin C aids in the absorption of iron, helping fight anemia. Their lutein and beta-carotene are good for the eyes, while their vitamin C, zinc, and phenolic compounds support the immune system. Nectarines are even good for the skin, providing bioflavonoids and anti-oxidants that protect against damage from UV exposure (making their availability in July and August particularly appropriate).
Nectarine allergies are rare, but nectarine pits should not be eaten -- they contain substances that can metabolize into cyanide and sicken or kill someone who eats too many.
Read more:
label-style nutrition information
Spoon University
Nutrition and You
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
in season in the Puget Sound region: July-August
Contrary to rumor, nectarines are not a hybrid of peaches and plums. Their scientific name is Prunus persica var. nucipersica or nectarina, meaning that taxonomists consider them a variety or breed of peach. They're a member of the Rosaceae family, related to plums, almonds, and damsons. Their flesh can be golden yellow or creamy white. As with many fruits and vegetables, white nectarines are generally sweeter while yellow-fleshed ones have more flavor. Most of the nectarines you'll find for sale are clingstones, meaning the flesh does not readily separate from the pit, but freestone varieties do exist. Nectarine trees require a cold winter to stimulate blossom production.
Nectarines originated in China at least a millennium ago and spread to Persia (hence the "persica" in their scientific name), then to Greece and Rome. The reached Great Britain around 1600 and were brought to the Americas by the Spanish.
Nectarines are rich in vitamins A, several Bs, C, E, K and also provide minerals and electrolytes such as potassium, phosphorous, magnesium, iron, zinc, copper, and calcium. They have antioxidants like polyphenols and carotenoids such as beta-carotene and cryptoxanthin, and their fiber is good for digestion. They also contain anthocyanins, catechin, chlorogenic acid, and quercetin derivatives, which combat obesity-related problems, and their vitamin C aids in the absorption of iron, helping fight anemia. Their lutein and beta-carotene are good for the eyes, while their vitamin C, zinc, and phenolic compounds support the immune system. Nectarines are even good for the skin, providing bioflavonoids and anti-oxidants that protect against damage from UV exposure (making their availability in July and August particularly appropriate).
Nectarine allergies are rare, but nectarine pits should not be eaten -- they contain substances that can metabolize into cyanide and sicken or kill someone who eats too many.
Read more:
label-style nutrition information
Spoon University
Nutrition and You
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
01 September, 2018
Mammy's banana cake
1 c sugar
2/3 c butter
2 eggs
1 1/2 c flour
1 tsp. baking soda
4 ripe bananas
1/2 c chopped nuts (optional)
Mix in the usual fashion for a cake*. Bake in an 8- or 9-inch square pan at 350F for 35-40 min.
The rest of the story
This recipe originally came from my mother's "Mammy" (grandmother), who would have been cooking for children in the early 20th century in, approximately, Arkansas. Mom would have eaten this in the 1930s-1940s. I'm not sure which grandmother "Mammy" was -- 50% chance it was the one on whose farm my mother grew up during the Depression as part of a multi-generational extended family -- but I do remember my mother's delight at getting her hands on this recipe. We made it together within the week.
Then I misplaced it. I'd been looking for it for awhile now, because I was pretty sure I'd had it at some point. I particularly wanted it because the food bank almost always has bananas, but they're often very ripe and/or badly bruised (bananas bruise incredibly easily) -- perfect for banana bread (meh) or Mammy's banana cake! So now I'm almost as delighted as Mom was to have it again. Even if it did mean going through an entire file box of old printouts and photocopies.
As a side note, my family seems to have a tradition of losing and rediscovering grandmothers' recipes, and I am extremely grateful for the rediscovery part of that. And... let's see, my soapbox has to be around here somewhere... Labor Day weekend is coming up, a nice three-day with few socially-mandated activities connected to it; why not take this time to gather your favorite recipes from any remaining parents, grandparents, or even great-grandparents? And if you're a parent/grandparent/great-grandparent, why not gather up your descendants' favorite recipes into a notebook or (well backed-up) computer file as a first-apartment-warming gift? Your descendant is only six? Well, put it somewhere safe until it's wanted, but write 'em out now; your survival is not guaranteed. Your descendants are already on their second mortgage? Well then, it's about time they had their culinary birthright!
*There are about three different ways to mix cake batter, depending on the age of the recipe. When I make this cake, I just go with the given order of ingredients: cream the butter, sugar, and eggs, add the flour and baking soda, then the bananas and nuts. I need to do more research on this topic; I vaguely remember reading about a "new" method of mixing cake batter that appeared in the mid-20th century and made the process much easier, but recall none of the details (how frustrating).
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
2/3 c butter
2 eggs
1 1/2 c flour
1 tsp. baking soda
4 ripe bananas
1/2 c chopped nuts (optional)
Mix in the usual fashion for a cake*. Bake in an 8- or 9-inch square pan at 350F for 35-40 min.
The rest of the story
This recipe originally came from my mother's "Mammy" (grandmother), who would have been cooking for children in the early 20th century in, approximately, Arkansas. Mom would have eaten this in the 1930s-1940s. I'm not sure which grandmother "Mammy" was -- 50% chance it was the one on whose farm my mother grew up during the Depression as part of a multi-generational extended family -- but I do remember my mother's delight at getting her hands on this recipe. We made it together within the week.
Then I misplaced it. I'd been looking for it for awhile now, because I was pretty sure I'd had it at some point. I particularly wanted it because the food bank almost always has bananas, but they're often very ripe and/or badly bruised (bananas bruise incredibly easily) -- perfect for banana bread (meh) or Mammy's banana cake! So now I'm almost as delighted as Mom was to have it again. Even if it did mean going through an entire file box of old printouts and photocopies.
As a side note, my family seems to have a tradition of losing and rediscovering grandmothers' recipes, and I am extremely grateful for the rediscovery part of that. And... let's see, my soapbox has to be around here somewhere... Labor Day weekend is coming up, a nice three-day with few socially-mandated activities connected to it; why not take this time to gather your favorite recipes from any remaining parents, grandparents, or even great-grandparents? And if you're a parent/grandparent/great-grandparent, why not gather up your descendants' favorite recipes into a notebook or (well backed-up) computer file as a first-apartment-warming gift? Your descendant is only six? Well, put it somewhere safe until it's wanted, but write 'em out now; your survival is not guaranteed. Your descendants are already on their second mortgage? Well then, it's about time they had their culinary birthright!
*There are about three different ways to mix cake batter, depending on the age of the recipe. When I make this cake, I just go with the given order of ingredients: cream the butter, sugar, and eggs, add the flour and baking soda, then the bananas and nuts. I need to do more research on this topic; I vaguely remember reading about a "new" method of mixing cake batter that appeared in the mid-20th century and made the process much easier, but recall none of the details (how frustrating).
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
18 August, 2018
Using those blackberries
Cold-Process Blackberry Shrub
5 cups blackberries, gently rinsed
4 cups sugar
4 cups balsamic vinegar
Combine blackberries and sugar, stirring to produce some juice and coat berries. Cover and chill for 24 hours. Strain out the berries, gently pressing out any remaining juice. whisk in the vinegar, stirring until most of the sugar dissolves. Pour into a clean glass bottle and chill for 4 weeks before using.
Notes:
The original recipe called for red wine vinegar. I checked at the store, and what they had was the same acidity as the balsamic I used, 6%, so the result should be much the same (I'm just not that fond of the whole spoiled grape thing).
In my attempt, most of the sugar settled to the bottom of the berry glop, so at the very least you should probably give the berries a good stir before straining them.
I used my usual pseudo jelly bag technique like I did last year making blackberry juice concentrate, letting it drip all evening.
Next time I think I'll try mixing some of the vinegar into the berries before straining them to see if I can dissolve more of the sugar. My result seems sweet enough (before aging), so possibly some of the sugar is supposed to be filtered out with the berries. More experimentation is definitely called for!
Adapted from Port and Fin
So in a month or so, I'll be ready to try:
Blackberry-rum shrub
4 Tbsp. dark rum
1 Tbsp. blackberry shrub syrup
club soda to taste
Combine ingredients and serve over ice.
Adapted from Saveur
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
5 cups blackberries, gently rinsed
4 cups sugar
4 cups balsamic vinegar
Combine blackberries and sugar, stirring to produce some juice and coat berries. Cover and chill for 24 hours. Strain out the berries, gently pressing out any remaining juice. whisk in the vinegar, stirring until most of the sugar dissolves. Pour into a clean glass bottle and chill for 4 weeks before using.
Notes:
The original recipe called for red wine vinegar. I checked at the store, and what they had was the same acidity as the balsamic I used, 6%, so the result should be much the same (I'm just not that fond of the whole spoiled grape thing).
In my attempt, most of the sugar settled to the bottom of the berry glop, so at the very least you should probably give the berries a good stir before straining them.
I used my usual pseudo jelly bag technique like I did last year making blackberry juice concentrate, letting it drip all evening.
Next time I think I'll try mixing some of the vinegar into the berries before straining them to see if I can dissolve more of the sugar. My result seems sweet enough (before aging), so possibly some of the sugar is supposed to be filtered out with the berries. More experimentation is definitely called for!
Adapted from Port and Fin
So in a month or so, I'll be ready to try:
Blackberry-rum shrub
4 Tbsp. dark rum
1 Tbsp. blackberry shrub syrup
club soda to taste
Combine ingredients and serve over ice.
Adapted from Saveur
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
15 August, 2018
Blackberry foraging
It's blackberry season again! Blackberries are a sort of "gateway food" for foragers, being familiar, easy to recognize, and fairly available even without driving somewhere and hiking five miles into the wilderness. So, here for your consideration are my personal foraging guidelines:
Practice gratitude
Thank the plants and/or your preferred deity, or just take a moment to contemplate the marvel of bio-machines that convert earth, water, and sunlight into food. If you're setting out to collect a lot of berries, why not take the plants a little gift, like some water or weak worm/compost tea? Yes, the plants won't really understand what you're doing, it's all symbolic, but there are some indications that plants can sense our emotions or intentions, and anyway being nice to other living things is a good habit to get into.
Share
Take what you'll use, but don't pick too closely -- that is, leave the berries that will be at their peak tomorrow -- and try to leave some for the next forager (human or not). If you're young and athletic (or even just not all that ancient and reasonably vigorous) why not leave the easy-to-reach stuff for casual nibblers and the less agile? If you end up with more than you want, offer some to friends and neighbors or run it down to the Food Bank.
Especially, remember that humans aren't the only berry-lovers around, so if your patch is anywhere there might be wildlife, plan accordingly. Bears are particularly fond of berries, so go into the woods with plenty of friends and make some noise so other critters will know you're there and try to avoid you.
Expect scratches
Respect the plants, try not to trample or break more than absolutely necessary, and don't go berrying the day before you want to look stunning in a sun dress or show off your carefully cultivated muscles at the beach. Wear heavy clothes and plan to sweat, or dress more lightly and plan to bleed (no, that's not a threat; I personally always choose the second option and come home all scratched up -- but I have cats so I'm used to a certain amount of that anyway).
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
Practice gratitude
Thank the plants and/or your preferred deity, or just take a moment to contemplate the marvel of bio-machines that convert earth, water, and sunlight into food. If you're setting out to collect a lot of berries, why not take the plants a little gift, like some water or weak worm/compost tea? Yes, the plants won't really understand what you're doing, it's all symbolic, but there are some indications that plants can sense our emotions or intentions, and anyway being nice to other living things is a good habit to get into.
Share
Take what you'll use, but don't pick too closely -- that is, leave the berries that will be at their peak tomorrow -- and try to leave some for the next forager (human or not). If you're young and athletic (or even just not all that ancient and reasonably vigorous) why not leave the easy-to-reach stuff for casual nibblers and the less agile? If you end up with more than you want, offer some to friends and neighbors or run it down to the Food Bank.
Especially, remember that humans aren't the only berry-lovers around, so if your patch is anywhere there might be wildlife, plan accordingly. Bears are particularly fond of berries, so go into the woods with plenty of friends and make some noise so other critters will know you're there and try to avoid you.
Expect scratches
Respect the plants, try not to trample or break more than absolutely necessary, and don't go berrying the day before you want to look stunning in a sun dress or show off your carefully cultivated muscles at the beach. Wear heavy clothes and plan to sweat, or dress more lightly and plan to bleed (no, that's not a threat; I personally always choose the second option and come home all scratched up -- but I have cats so I'm used to a certain amount of that anyway).
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
11 August, 2018
(Red) amaranth leaves
Red Amaranth with Garlic and Oyster Sauce
1 bunch red amaranth, washed, shaken dry, picked over, and larger stems removed
2 Tbsp. cooking oil
1 clove garlic, crushed
2 Tbsp. oyster sauce
2 tsp. sugar
2 tsp. cornstarch mixed with 2 Tbsp. cold water
Chop amaranth leaves and small stems into bite-sized pieces. Heat oil and gently cook, stirring, until it begins to color. Add amaranth, increase heat to medium, and toss until wilted. Add oyster sauce and sugar, cover, and steam for a minute or two. Stir in cornstarch mixture and allow to boil until it thickens.
Spicy Amaranth
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 clove garlic, minced or crushed
1 tsp. minced fresh ginger
1 small jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. ground cardamom
1 lb. red amaranth leaves, washed, larger stems removed, torn as needed
1 tsp. salt, or to taste
1 Tbsp. lime juice
2 Tbsp. water
Heat oil, add the garlic, ginger, and jalapeno; toss for about 10 seconds. Stir in remaining spices and briefly continue cooking. Add amaranth leaves, salt, lime juice, and water. Stir-fry until the amaranth starts to wilt.
Adapted from Seasonal Chef
The long, chatty bit
native to: South America, probably Peru
in season in the Puget Sound region: August
I saw these at the
Olympia Farmers' Market (Piece by Piece Farm of food bank CSA fame had them, just lying there beside the lettuces) and they were so beautiful I just had to try them. And photograph them; they've motivated me to get back into putting photos in my posts.
It's been awhile since I posted a recipe, so I decided that would be my focus here (and it promptly turned too hot to cook without air conditioning, so I haven't actually tried the recipes yet). However, I did my usual internet reading and learned a few interesting things.
Amaranth is more familiar as a high-protein, gluten-free grain, and sometimes you have to read pretty carefully to determine if a website is talking about the leaves or seeds. The leaves are more common in Asian cuisine, often appearing in stir-fries and curries. There are some 60 species of Amaranthaceae. The common wild one is one of several weeds called pigweed, which, yes, is also edible. Other varieties can be used as a red dye and as ornamentals -- Love-lies-bleeding is an amaranth.
Amaranth "greens" (mostly red to purple) are also called Chinese spinach, although it's not a close spinach relative. Amaranth has a stronger, more bitter flavor and tougher leaves than spinach -- only the youngest leaves should be eaten raw. The larger leaves are better cooked, but should not be reheated or their nitrates could get converted to nitrites. The root is also eaten, but less commonly.
Amaranth is nutritionally similar to beets, chard, and spinach, but with more protein, vitamin C, carotene, iron, and calcium. A couple of sources mention it as a good source of lysine, but I think they're talking about the seeds rather than the leaves. It stimulates growth and healing, reduces inflammation, supports the immune system, and may help lower blood pressure.
The most interesting thing I learned is that amaranth leaves are good for skin and hair. The leaves can be applied to patches of eczema and their juice, used topically, revitalizes hair follicles and fights baldness. I've not looked into the idea, but it might be useful against mange as well -- but check with your veterinarian before trying it. I've no idea whether dogs and cats can safely eat amaranth; and if you put it on them, you know they'll eventually lick or chew it off.
Read more:
label-style nutrition information for cooked amaranth leaves
Organic Facts
Innovate Us
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
1 bunch red amaranth, washed, shaken dry, picked over, and larger stems removed
2 Tbsp. cooking oil
1 clove garlic, crushed
2 Tbsp. oyster sauce
2 tsp. sugar
2 tsp. cornstarch mixed with 2 Tbsp. cold water
Chop amaranth leaves and small stems into bite-sized pieces. Heat oil and gently cook, stirring, until it begins to color. Add amaranth, increase heat to medium, and toss until wilted. Add oyster sauce and sugar, cover, and steam for a minute or two. Stir in cornstarch mixture and allow to boil until it thickens.
Spicy Amaranth
2 Tbsp. vegetable oil
1 clove garlic, minced or crushed
1 tsp. minced fresh ginger
1 small jalapeno pepper, seeded and minced
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1/2 tsp. ground cloves
1/2 tsp. ground cardamom
1 lb. red amaranth leaves, washed, larger stems removed, torn as needed
1 tsp. salt, or to taste
1 Tbsp. lime juice
2 Tbsp. water
Heat oil, add the garlic, ginger, and jalapeno; toss for about 10 seconds. Stir in remaining spices and briefly continue cooking. Add amaranth leaves, salt, lime juice, and water. Stir-fry until the amaranth starts to wilt.
Adapted from Seasonal Chef
The long, chatty bit
native to: South America, probably Peru
in season in the Puget Sound region: August
I saw these at the
Olympia Farmers' Market (Piece by Piece Farm of food bank CSA fame had them, just lying there beside the lettuces) and they were so beautiful I just had to try them. And photograph them; they've motivated me to get back into putting photos in my posts.
It's been awhile since I posted a recipe, so I decided that would be my focus here (and it promptly turned too hot to cook without air conditioning, so I haven't actually tried the recipes yet). However, I did my usual internet reading and learned a few interesting things.
Amaranth is more familiar as a high-protein, gluten-free grain, and sometimes you have to read pretty carefully to determine if a website is talking about the leaves or seeds. The leaves are more common in Asian cuisine, often appearing in stir-fries and curries. There are some 60 species of Amaranthaceae. The common wild one is one of several weeds called pigweed, which, yes, is also edible. Other varieties can be used as a red dye and as ornamentals -- Love-lies-bleeding is an amaranth.
Amaranth "greens" (mostly red to purple) are also called Chinese spinach, although it's not a close spinach relative. Amaranth has a stronger, more bitter flavor and tougher leaves than spinach -- only the youngest leaves should be eaten raw. The larger leaves are better cooked, but should not be reheated or their nitrates could get converted to nitrites. The root is also eaten, but less commonly.
Amaranth is nutritionally similar to beets, chard, and spinach, but with more protein, vitamin C, carotene, iron, and calcium. A couple of sources mention it as a good source of lysine, but I think they're talking about the seeds rather than the leaves. It stimulates growth and healing, reduces inflammation, supports the immune system, and may help lower blood pressure.
The most interesting thing I learned is that amaranth leaves are good for skin and hair. The leaves can be applied to patches of eczema and their juice, used topically, revitalizes hair follicles and fights baldness. I've not looked into the idea, but it might be useful against mange as well -- but check with your veterinarian before trying it. I've no idea whether dogs and cats can safely eat amaranth; and if you put it on them, you know they'll eventually lick or chew it off.
Read more:
label-style nutrition information for cooked amaranth leaves
Organic Facts
Innovate Us
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
06 August, 2018
Galia melons
native to: Israel
in season in the Puget Sound region: August (mostly they're transported from central Washington; the Sound region doesn't really get warm enough for long enough to produce a good melon crop)
Also called Middle Eastern melon, Mediterranean melon, passport melon, honeymoon melon, or Israeli melon, galia melons are a cross between cantaloupes and honeydews. They look a lot like a smallish cantaloupe, with slightly paler skin that can take on a yellowish cast when very ripe and with somewhat less netting -- the network of little ridges that covers the rind. The flesh is where the real difference is, pale creamy yellow to bright green. They are sometimes considered a kind of honeydew but their flavor is more like a cantaloupe, if slightly milder and sweeter. If you want to get technical, they're a kind of muskmelon, a member of the Cucurbitaceae family known in scientific circles as Cucumis melo var. reticulatus. The seeds are also edible.
The main reason we don't see more of them is that they have a short shelf life, something like 2-3 weeks after picking (which in many cases would be just about the time it takes for them to reach a grocery store shelf). As longer-lived strains are developed, we're likely to see more of them.
They were developed in the 1960s by Dr. Zvi Karchi at the Ne´ve Yaar Research Center of the Agricultural Research Organization in Israel, named after his daughter, and released for commercial production in 1973.
Galias provide plenty of vitamins A and C, carotenoids, bioflavonoids, potassium, calcium, and iron, and also contain a fair amount of fiber, including pectin. They help with weight loss, promote digestion, and fight diabetes because of all that fiber; support the immune system with vitamin C and antioxidants such as bioflavonoids; work against certain types of cancer; improve vision with vitamin A and carotenoids; and protect the heart by reducing cholesterol and because their potassium acts as a vasodilator and lowers blood pressure. They have diuretic properties that flush sodium and toxins that cause kidney disease and eczema. They're low in carbohydrates and have alkalizing properties. In combination with lemons they can help cure gout. Their vitamins A and C, collagen, and basic high water content make them good for the skin. They even help bodybuilders, with their low fructose content, minerals, fiber, and moisture.
The only real health concern, minor as it is, is the high fiber content. Too much fiber can over-rev digestion, bind nutrients, and speed food through the intestines so things don't have as much chance to be absorbed by the body. This is only an issue if you eat a while lot of them, though.
Read more:
Only Foods
Organic Facts
Specialty Produce
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
in season in the Puget Sound region: August (mostly they're transported from central Washington; the Sound region doesn't really get warm enough for long enough to produce a good melon crop)
Also called Middle Eastern melon, Mediterranean melon, passport melon, honeymoon melon, or Israeli melon, galia melons are a cross between cantaloupes and honeydews. They look a lot like a smallish cantaloupe, with slightly paler skin that can take on a yellowish cast when very ripe and with somewhat less netting -- the network of little ridges that covers the rind. The flesh is where the real difference is, pale creamy yellow to bright green. They are sometimes considered a kind of honeydew but their flavor is more like a cantaloupe, if slightly milder and sweeter. If you want to get technical, they're a kind of muskmelon, a member of the Cucurbitaceae family known in scientific circles as Cucumis melo var. reticulatus. The seeds are also edible.
The main reason we don't see more of them is that they have a short shelf life, something like 2-3 weeks after picking (which in many cases would be just about the time it takes for them to reach a grocery store shelf). As longer-lived strains are developed, we're likely to see more of them.
They were developed in the 1960s by Dr. Zvi Karchi at the Ne´ve Yaar Research Center of the Agricultural Research Organization in Israel, named after his daughter, and released for commercial production in 1973.
Galias provide plenty of vitamins A and C, carotenoids, bioflavonoids, potassium, calcium, and iron, and also contain a fair amount of fiber, including pectin. They help with weight loss, promote digestion, and fight diabetes because of all that fiber; support the immune system with vitamin C and antioxidants such as bioflavonoids; work against certain types of cancer; improve vision with vitamin A and carotenoids; and protect the heart by reducing cholesterol and because their potassium acts as a vasodilator and lowers blood pressure. They have diuretic properties that flush sodium and toxins that cause kidney disease and eczema. They're low in carbohydrates and have alkalizing properties. In combination with lemons they can help cure gout. Their vitamins A and C, collagen, and basic high water content make them good for the skin. They even help bodybuilders, with their low fructose content, minerals, fiber, and moisture.
The only real health concern, minor as it is, is the high fiber content. Too much fiber can over-rev digestion, bind nutrients, and speed food through the intestines so things don't have as much chance to be absorbed by the body. This is only an issue if you eat a while lot of them, though.
Read more:
Only Foods
Organic Facts
Specialty Produce
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
22 July, 2018
Shrubs (not the kind sought by the Knights Who (Used To) Say "Ni!")
1/2 oz. (ca. 14.7 ml.) drinking vinegar/shrub
2 oz. (ca. 59 ml.) vermouth or sherry
seltzer or club soda to taste
Stir together and serve at once, probably over ice.
-------
2 oz (ca. 59 ml.) dark rum
1/2 oz. (ca. 14.7 ml.) drinking vinegar/shrub
3 oz. (ca. 88.7 ml.) club soda or seltzer
Stir together and serve at once, probably over ice.
Variations:
- Leave out the rum for a non-alcoholic version.
- Replace the club soda with ginger beer or tonic water.
Adapted from Serious Eats
The long, chatty bit
Vinegar is all the rage just now; would it be inaccurate to call it "the new milk"? Or maybe that's just the circles I move in; several of my friends are into the whole alkalizing thing, and apparently drinking vinegar, although it's an acid, has an alkalizing effect because of the way the body reacts to it ("nooo, don't give me acid! I'll just rev up my acid processing and base producing functions and make myself more alkaline instead, so there!" -- or am I the only one whose body is that contrary?).
Anyway, there was a new vendor at the Tumwater Farmers' Market this week, selling "sipping vinegar" -- try to say that 3 times without accidentally saying "sipping liquor" instead -- and giving out samples. The vinegar is called Wild Heart, but the company is called OH!SHRUBS.
I was vaguely aware of shrub as a kind of drink, something in the punch or cordial line, but after trying it, I was inspired to look a little further. Dictionary first: my aging Chambers defines a shrub as, in the UK, "a mixed drink of lemon or other citrus fruit juice, sugar, spices, and a spirit, esp. rum" (making it similar to the Rum Swizzle of Bermudian fame) and, in the US, "a cordial of fruit juice (e.g. raspberry) and vinegar." Seems the term comes from the Arabic sharab and the word is related to "sherbet." Further consultation tells me a cordial is not, as I'd always vaguely assumed, a liqueur-like drink of some sort, but rather a non-alcoholic refresher. Huh; well, there's my new thing learned today (I find I'm happiest if I can learn at least one thing every day).
But I kept thinking about that blackberry juice concentrate I have on my pantry shelf. Could I make my own "sipping vinegar" by mixing that with cider, or maybe balsamic, vinegar and possibly some cinnamon or grains of paradise? So off to the internet I went....
Wikipedia, which is quick if of dubious repute, adds that the first kind of shrub is a "fruit liqueur that was popular in the 17th and 18th century England, typically made with rum or brandy mixed with sugar and the juice or rinds of citrus fruit." It evolved from 15th century medicinal cordials and Persian sekanjabin and had fallen out of fashion by the late 19th century. The second kind is a "cocktail or soft drink that was popular during America's colonial era, made by mixing a vinegared syrup with spirits, water, or carbonated water." It originated from the 17th-century English practice of using vinegar instead of citrus juice to preserve berries and fruit (producing yet another kind of shrub) and remained common until refrigerators made it too much work. Drinking vinegar, Wikipedia says, is the sweetened vinegar syrup from which the cocktails are made, which can also be called -- you guessed it -- shrub. There are also "shrubs" made with alcohol and versions that use acidic fruit juices instead of vinegar, but for now let's look at the traditional vinegar-based shrub.
The idea of vinegar as a drink ingredient is very old, going back to at least 2nd century B.C. Rome, where posca was a popular soldier's and working-man's thirst quencher. Even before that, mixing sour wine or vinegar with herbs was a common medicinal practice.
Another vinegar-and-water drink worth mentioning is switchel or haymaker's punch, which was often flavored with ginger and in which sweetening was optional. I have heard switchel described as "colonial-era Gatorade," along with the comment that it only tastes good if you need the electrolytes the vinegar provides.
There are two ways to make the basic syrup kind of shrub or drinking vinegar. The more traditional way involves macerating (softening) the fruit in sugar for a couple of days, straining it, and adding approximately an equal amount of good vinegar (cider vinegar is traditional, although I've also seen balsamic mentioned); what might be called the quick-and-dirty method simply boils the fruit in simple syrup instead. There's a good description of both methods on the website Food52, and another version at The Spruce Eats. A long but interesting article at Serious Eats includes photos of the maceration process.
A very basic drink can be made by mixing 1 oz. of shrub (the syrup) with 5-6 oz. water, sparkling water, or club soda.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
2 oz. (ca. 59 ml.) vermouth or sherry
seltzer or club soda to taste
Stir together and serve at once, probably over ice.
-------
2 oz (ca. 59 ml.) dark rum
1/2 oz. (ca. 14.7 ml.) drinking vinegar/shrub
3 oz. (ca. 88.7 ml.) club soda or seltzer
Stir together and serve at once, probably over ice.
Variations:
- Leave out the rum for a non-alcoholic version.
- Replace the club soda with ginger beer or tonic water.
Adapted from Serious Eats
The long, chatty bit
Vinegar is all the rage just now; would it be inaccurate to call it "the new milk"? Or maybe that's just the circles I move in; several of my friends are into the whole alkalizing thing, and apparently drinking vinegar, although it's an acid, has an alkalizing effect because of the way the body reacts to it ("nooo, don't give me acid! I'll just rev up my acid processing and base producing functions and make myself more alkaline instead, so there!" -- or am I the only one whose body is that contrary?).
Anyway, there was a new vendor at the Tumwater Farmers' Market this week, selling "sipping vinegar" -- try to say that 3 times without accidentally saying "sipping liquor" instead -- and giving out samples. The vinegar is called Wild Heart, but the company is called OH!SHRUBS.
I was vaguely aware of shrub as a kind of drink, something in the punch or cordial line, but after trying it, I was inspired to look a little further. Dictionary first: my aging Chambers defines a shrub as, in the UK, "a mixed drink of lemon or other citrus fruit juice, sugar, spices, and a spirit, esp. rum" (making it similar to the Rum Swizzle of Bermudian fame) and, in the US, "a cordial of fruit juice (e.g. raspberry) and vinegar." Seems the term comes from the Arabic sharab and the word is related to "sherbet." Further consultation tells me a cordial is not, as I'd always vaguely assumed, a liqueur-like drink of some sort, but rather a non-alcoholic refresher. Huh; well, there's my new thing learned today (I find I'm happiest if I can learn at least one thing every day).
But I kept thinking about that blackberry juice concentrate I have on my pantry shelf. Could I make my own "sipping vinegar" by mixing that with cider, or maybe balsamic, vinegar and possibly some cinnamon or grains of paradise? So off to the internet I went....
Wikipedia, which is quick if of dubious repute, adds that the first kind of shrub is a "fruit liqueur that was popular in the 17th and 18th century England, typically made with rum or brandy mixed with sugar and the juice or rinds of citrus fruit." It evolved from 15th century medicinal cordials and Persian sekanjabin and had fallen out of fashion by the late 19th century. The second kind is a "cocktail or soft drink that was popular during America's colonial era, made by mixing a vinegared syrup with spirits, water, or carbonated water." It originated from the 17th-century English practice of using vinegar instead of citrus juice to preserve berries and fruit (producing yet another kind of shrub) and remained common until refrigerators made it too much work. Drinking vinegar, Wikipedia says, is the sweetened vinegar syrup from which the cocktails are made, which can also be called -- you guessed it -- shrub. There are also "shrubs" made with alcohol and versions that use acidic fruit juices instead of vinegar, but for now let's look at the traditional vinegar-based shrub.
The idea of vinegar as a drink ingredient is very old, going back to at least 2nd century B.C. Rome, where posca was a popular soldier's and working-man's thirst quencher. Even before that, mixing sour wine or vinegar with herbs was a common medicinal practice.
Another vinegar-and-water drink worth mentioning is switchel or haymaker's punch, which was often flavored with ginger and in which sweetening was optional. I have heard switchel described as "colonial-era Gatorade," along with the comment that it only tastes good if you need the electrolytes the vinegar provides.
There are two ways to make the basic syrup kind of shrub or drinking vinegar. The more traditional way involves macerating (softening) the fruit in sugar for a couple of days, straining it, and adding approximately an equal amount of good vinegar (cider vinegar is traditional, although I've also seen balsamic mentioned); what might be called the quick-and-dirty method simply boils the fruit in simple syrup instead. There's a good description of both methods on the website Food52, and another version at The Spruce Eats. A long but interesting article at Serious Eats includes photos of the maceration process.
A very basic drink can be made by mixing 1 oz. of shrub (the syrup) with 5-6 oz. water, sparkling water, or club soda.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
07 July, 2018
Locavore, sort of
This week my favorite Food Bank had all-you-can-eat strawberries, plus an abundance of raspberries. Not thinking much beyond "yum!" I grabbed a bunch... and was reminded why I can sometimes be such a locavore. The strawberries were from California and just about had enough flavor to be worth hauling up the hill -- since I was going anyway -- but the raspberries were all seeds and red water, not really even worth carrying from bowl to mouth. Granted, some of that was my fault, since they got pretty squished riding home in my panniers.
The point is, the farther food travels and the longer it sits in a distributor's warehouse, the older it gets. And with any kind of produce, the older it's going to get, the earlier it has to be picked and the less flavor it has time to develop. This is the best reason to buy your food directly from local farmers as much as possible.
Other reasons include the economic -- buying locally keeps your money "at home" -- and the ecological -- all those interstate trucks and international planes do nasty things to the air quality.
Don't get me wrong, I still love the food bank and am grateful to them, they just sometimes have things that aren't much good. In fact, one of the coolest things about the food bank is the chance to try stuff you'd never risk spending money on.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
The point is, the farther food travels and the longer it sits in a distributor's warehouse, the older it gets. And with any kind of produce, the older it's going to get, the earlier it has to be picked and the less flavor it has time to develop. This is the best reason to buy your food directly from local farmers as much as possible.
Other reasons include the economic -- buying locally keeps your money "at home" -- and the ecological -- all those interstate trucks and international planes do nasty things to the air quality.
Don't get me wrong, I still love the food bank and am grateful to them, they just sometimes have things that aren't much good. In fact, one of the coolest things about the food bank is the chance to try stuff you'd never risk spending money on.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
08 June, 2018
Raspberry Goop
4-serving package of raspberry flavored gelatin powder
2 c whipped cream substitute such as Cool Whip or Dream Whip (or whipped cream if goop will be used up immediately)
up to a quart of fresh raspberries, gently washed and allowed to dry
Prepare gelatin according to package instructions and chill to a thick syrup; do not allow it to set*. Fold in the whipped cream substitute to make a slightly unappetizing pink fluff; fold in raspberries. Chill until completely set.
Summer comfort food
I scored a big package of raspberries at the Food Bank today (yum). I didn't have the other ingredients for this dish on hand, so I just ate them (Food Bank raspberries have to be picked over and the still-good ones eaten immediately). Whenever I so much as think of raspberries, though, I remember this treat.
You see, when my parents first put in their vegetable garden (this was in the Spokane Valley and produced a strong candidate for the title of World's Bitterest Lettuce, as well as two rows of corn that demonstrated admirably the value of composting, the stalks growing shorter and shorter the further they got from the spot Dad dumped the lawn mower bag... where was I?) they answered a newspaper ad and bought a dozen raspberry starts. The seller, who was clearing out his large raspberry patch, started digging and for every "good" start he dug, he found at least one that was "too small" but he threw it in as well. My parents, being unable to just throw out a healthy plant, ended up with a double row all along the back fence, in excess of two dozen plants that all settled in happily and began producing berries.
At first it was great, lots of lovely raspberries. By August of the third year, my mother (being equally unable to throw out good berries) began to get desperate, having frozen and given away as many raspberries as she could, and with more ripening. She came across this recipe -- I think it must have been on a box of Jello -- and it was a great success. Better, it used up lots of raspberries. I don't remember the official recipe title, we promptly started calling it "goop" and it remains "goop" to us to this day.
It can actually be made with any pairing of gelatin and fruit; peach with sliced peaches is another favorite of mine, but I can't recommend orange with canned mandarin oranges, that's terribly sweet. Best of all, making it produces very little heat, especially if you heat the water in a microwave; that alone would make it a great summer recipe.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
-------
*Chunks of Jello and raspberries in whipped cream substitute, while also good, is a different dessert.
2 c whipped cream substitute such as Cool Whip or Dream Whip (or whipped cream if goop will be used up immediately)
up to a quart of fresh raspberries, gently washed and allowed to dry
Prepare gelatin according to package instructions and chill to a thick syrup; do not allow it to set*. Fold in the whipped cream substitute to make a slightly unappetizing pink fluff; fold in raspberries. Chill until completely set.
Summer comfort food
I scored a big package of raspberries at the Food Bank today (yum). I didn't have the other ingredients for this dish on hand, so I just ate them (Food Bank raspberries have to be picked over and the still-good ones eaten immediately). Whenever I so much as think of raspberries, though, I remember this treat.
You see, when my parents first put in their vegetable garden (this was in the Spokane Valley and produced a strong candidate for the title of World's Bitterest Lettuce, as well as two rows of corn that demonstrated admirably the value of composting, the stalks growing shorter and shorter the further they got from the spot Dad dumped the lawn mower bag... where was I?) they answered a newspaper ad and bought a dozen raspberry starts. The seller, who was clearing out his large raspberry patch, started digging and for every "good" start he dug, he found at least one that was "too small" but he threw it in as well. My parents, being unable to just throw out a healthy plant, ended up with a double row all along the back fence, in excess of two dozen plants that all settled in happily and began producing berries.
At first it was great, lots of lovely raspberries. By August of the third year, my mother (being equally unable to throw out good berries) began to get desperate, having frozen and given away as many raspberries as she could, and with more ripening. She came across this recipe -- I think it must have been on a box of Jello -- and it was a great success. Better, it used up lots of raspberries. I don't remember the official recipe title, we promptly started calling it "goop" and it remains "goop" to us to this day.
It can actually be made with any pairing of gelatin and fruit; peach with sliced peaches is another favorite of mine, but I can't recommend orange with canned mandarin oranges, that's terribly sweet. Best of all, making it produces very little heat, especially if you heat the water in a microwave; that alone would make it a great summer recipe.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
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*Chunks of Jello and raspberries in whipped cream substitute, while also good, is a different dessert.
31 May, 2018
Three-layer chef's salad
This one isn't so much a recipe as a technique; the ingredients listed are what I usually have on hand to use. It's all about how to make a nice one-person, main course salad with just a nice amount of dressing and without all the goodies gone in the first half dozen bites, but not requiring climbing up for the big popcorn bowl from on top of the cupboards so you can toss the thing peoperly.
Here's what I use:
romaine lettuce
leaf lettuce, preferably either very ruffled or with lots of beautiful red in it
spinach
medium white cheddar cut into short slivers
celery chopped into about 1/2-inch pieces
sunflower seeds
sunflower shoots
quail eggs, hard-boiled
some kind of meat in small chunks, often surimi (fake crab) or shrimp if the food bank has any
caesar salad dressing
Place about a third of each ingredient in a big bowl (or a quarter, if you prefer an even number of layers). Drizzle with a small amount of salad dressing, if you want dressing. I put my dressings in those squeezable plastic condiment bottles if they're not too chunky, to get a nice thin line and therefore fairly even coverage without anything getting drowned. Repeat until your ingredients are in the bowl and you have the desired number of layers. Admire your salad for a moment, then stir it gently as you eat to distribute the dressing more thoroughly.
If you're using a (big enough) spinner to dry your greens, you can use the same technique in washing the greens and loading the spinner. Then you're ready to go and don't have to dig down for anything or unpack the spinner into separate piles or bowls. It's all about not making extra dishes to wash.
Wow, a food bank CSA
As if free food weren't amazing enough, this year the Thurston County Food Bank is trying out a mini-ÇSA, four "boxes" of lovely fresh veg in May and June donated by local farms. You have to apply, I suppose to convince them you like produce and will make good use of the goodies. So I applied on the off chance, figuring families with children would probably get them all, but I won! Well, technically I was accepted into the program, but it felt like winning.
This week's box included a package of sunflower shoots, one of my all-time favorite "salady things." I got kind of addicted to them last year, at least to the point that I consider them pretty much essential to a nice chef's-type salad. So thank you Black Hills Organics for donating them!
Another thing that makes this salad season is that the quail at Lost Peacock Creamery have started laying in earnest this month. Hard boiled quail eggs are the perfect size for a salad, you can use them whole and not have stray bits of yolk wandering loose in the salad, and they're a better source of protein than plain chicken eggs.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
Here's what I use:
romaine lettuce
leaf lettuce, preferably either very ruffled or with lots of beautiful red in it
spinach
medium white cheddar cut into short slivers
celery chopped into about 1/2-inch pieces
sunflower seeds
sunflower shoots
quail eggs, hard-boiled
some kind of meat in small chunks, often surimi (fake crab) or shrimp if the food bank has any
caesar salad dressing
Place about a third of each ingredient in a big bowl (or a quarter, if you prefer an even number of layers). Drizzle with a small amount of salad dressing, if you want dressing. I put my dressings in those squeezable plastic condiment bottles if they're not too chunky, to get a nice thin line and therefore fairly even coverage without anything getting drowned. Repeat until your ingredients are in the bowl and you have the desired number of layers. Admire your salad for a moment, then stir it gently as you eat to distribute the dressing more thoroughly.
If you're using a (big enough) spinner to dry your greens, you can use the same technique in washing the greens and loading the spinner. Then you're ready to go and don't have to dig down for anything or unpack the spinner into separate piles or bowls. It's all about not making extra dishes to wash.
Wow, a food bank CSA
As if free food weren't amazing enough, this year the Thurston County Food Bank is trying out a mini-ÇSA, four "boxes" of lovely fresh veg in May and June donated by local farms. You have to apply, I suppose to convince them you like produce and will make good use of the goodies. So I applied on the off chance, figuring families with children would probably get them all, but I won! Well, technically I was accepted into the program, but it felt like winning.
This week's box included a package of sunflower shoots, one of my all-time favorite "salady things." I got kind of addicted to them last year, at least to the point that I consider them pretty much essential to a nice chef's-type salad. So thank you Black Hills Organics for donating them!
Another thing that makes this salad season is that the quail at Lost Peacock Creamery have started laying in earnest this month. Hard boiled quail eggs are the perfect size for a salad, you can use them whole and not have stray bits of yolk wandering loose in the salad, and they're a better source of protein than plain chicken eggs.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
18 April, 2018
All that ground turkey...
(Originally written 13 Sept. 2017)
Pie-like Objects (PLOs)
1 1b. ground chicken, turkey, or pork
1/4 c. chopped onion, or to taste
1-2 ribs celery, chopped, if available
1/4 tsp. garlic powder, or to taste
1 tsp. ground cinnamon, or to taste
ground black pepper to taste
salt if desired
1/2 c. blackberry juice, concentrated to a light syrup (see recipe below)
dough for 8-16 crescent rolls
Cook meat, onion, celery, and spices, stirring to combine and to break up the meat, until nearly done. Add juice and finish cooking. Remove from heat.
Form crescent roll dough into 4-8 squares; if working with precut triangles, you may find it easiest to offset them so the narrow points stick out, then seal the seams and tuck the ends along the sides. Divide the meat mixture between the squares and wrap the dough to form bundles or turnovers. Bake according to the directions for the rolls, until light brown and done. Cool well on a rack before refrigerating; do not cover until well chilled or they may get soggy..
"Pies" that stay sealed will keep better than ones that split, so eat the split ones first.
Blackberry Concentrate
When ready to start, rinse blackberries gently (they will keep better unwashed and not too tightly covered). Dump them into a pot and smush them a bit with a potato masher or your widest spatula. This gives you some burn-preventing liquid without adding water which will then just have to be cooked off again. Cover and simmer on medium-low heat (about 4 out of 9 on my stove), smushing and stirring occasionally for... awhile. Until it's had enough and is all runny. Half an hour or so, once it starts bubbling and you (probably) turn the heat down.
Rig a jelly bag. If you're like most people these days, you won't have a proper jelly bag; it's easier to lay a couple of layers of cheesecloth in a strainer. Make sure enough cheesecloth hangs over the sides that you can pull the corners together and make a bag, and put strainer and cheesecloth over another pot, or a large bowl, and dump in the berries and juice. After the first 1-2 hours, gather the cheesecloth corners and tie them to form a bag; hang the bag over the pot/bowl, possibly from the knob of a cupboard. You'll probably want to use a loop of twine for this, because the cheesecloth will be pretty messy. (If you have friends or family who are into horror or goth, be sure to show them your hanging bag and "bloody" hands.) Let the berries drain awhile longer, a couple of hours to overnight.
Time for a break. Clean up, put the juice in the fridge, and throw away or compost the berries and cheesecloth. Now aren't you glad you dont have a jelly bag to wash? Make sure you have enough clean canning jars (I recommend 8 oz. jelly jars or those cute 4-oz. pots) and unused lids if you're going to can it.
When you're ready to continue (don't leave it more than a few days or you'll lose momentum), set the juice back over medium-low heat and simmer, uncovered and stirring occasionally, until it reduces to about half the volume or you're out of patience. If you have a candy thermometer, aim for the low end of the syrup range, about 210-215F (100C). While waiting on this, put water in your canning kettle and find whatever you put in the bottom to protect the jars (I use a washcloth since I lost my little wire thingy years ago). Start it heating. Arrange lids and (upside-down) jars in a shallow pan of water and get them boiling to sterilize them. Set out a kitchen towel to put the jars on while filling and, later, while cooling (NOT a good towel; use the same one you've been drying your washed and hulled strawberries on all summer). Find your jar-lifter or tongs and other canning tools as desired. Isn't that juice cooked to syrup yet?
When the juice is finally syrupy, fill the jars, leaving 1/4 inch or a little more headspace. Close jars and load the canner, adding more water if needed to cover the jars. Boil 10 minutes. Remove jars to the towel and listen for the pops while cleaning up; some may even seal while being removed from the canner.
Complete information on canning (.pdf file).
The Blackberry Chicken Calzone experiment
I wanted to start off my new blog with something creative and unusual, so in the best "what needs to be used up?" tradition I attempted... let's call it Blackberry Chicken Calzone. Unusual, I think I managed. Edible...?
It all started with the blackberries in a friend's back yard. She had eaten, frozen, and smoothied as many of the things as she could handle and they were still coming over the back fence like a tsunami; would I like to pick some for myself? Please?
So with one load from her yard and another from a local park (because now I was in full berrying mode and, after all, it's free food), I started out by making juice. This is an easy way to get rid of all those seeds. Then, since I still had blackberry jelly from last year and the row of canned grape juice next to it suggested I wasn't going to drink it as juice, I decided to cook it down into an unsweetened syrup sort of thing. The idea was to make sort of a blackberry version of pomegranate molasses, although later I realized that pomegranate molasses is sweetened.
Now that I had this blackberry molasses-oid, what to do with it? Remembering the original inspiration (I think it was a chicken fesenjan recipe?) and digging around in my freezer, I decided to cook some ground chicken in it. By tasting the juice and sniffing spices, I settled on a little garlic and onion, just because that's pretty much what goes on everything savory in my kitchen, plenty of cinnamon, and a bit of cubebs just because I hadn't used any for a long time. To be honest, I think they were too old to make much difference.
So far, so good. I had some pizza dough from the food bank in the freezer that I thawed for this little adventure. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be for a thin, crackery crust, if freezing killed the yeast, or if it was just too old, but it didn't rise. I stretched it out as best I could (with it ripping all the way), dumped the chicken in the middle, and pulled the edges over to make a sort of minimalist, one-filling calzone, then cooked it like the package said to, but it looked more dried than baked. Plus a lot of the bottom stuck to the pan. I gamely tried some of the fragments anyway, since that's what there was for dinner, and it wasn't actually too bad once you got past the appearance. Further experimentation showed crescent roll or puff pastry dough to be a better choice than the pizza dough, and that golden raisins or chopped dried figs made a good addition. The technique also works with other combinations of meat, juice/sauce, and additions.
Dessert was Trader Joe's shortcakes from the food bank via the freezer (thanks for donating them, TJ's!) under very basic strawberry sauce made by coarsely fork-mashing wonderful local strawberries from the Tumwater Farmers' Market, courtesy of their generous Market Match program.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
Pie-like Objects (PLOs)
1 1b. ground chicken, turkey, or pork
1/4 c. chopped onion, or to taste
1-2 ribs celery, chopped, if available
1/4 tsp. garlic powder, or to taste
1 tsp. ground cinnamon, or to taste
ground black pepper to taste
salt if desired
1/2 c. blackberry juice, concentrated to a light syrup (see recipe below)
dough for 8-16 crescent rolls
Cook meat, onion, celery, and spices, stirring to combine and to break up the meat, until nearly done. Add juice and finish cooking. Remove from heat.
Form crescent roll dough into 4-8 squares; if working with precut triangles, you may find it easiest to offset them so the narrow points stick out, then seal the seams and tuck the ends along the sides. Divide the meat mixture between the squares and wrap the dough to form bundles or turnovers. Bake according to the directions for the rolls, until light brown and done. Cool well on a rack before refrigerating; do not cover until well chilled or they may get soggy..
"Pies" that stay sealed will keep better than ones that split, so eat the split ones first.
Blackberry Concentrate
When ready to start, rinse blackberries gently (they will keep better unwashed and not too tightly covered). Dump them into a pot and smush them a bit with a potato masher or your widest spatula. This gives you some burn-preventing liquid without adding water which will then just have to be cooked off again. Cover and simmer on medium-low heat (about 4 out of 9 on my stove), smushing and stirring occasionally for... awhile. Until it's had enough and is all runny. Half an hour or so, once it starts bubbling and you (probably) turn the heat down.
Rig a jelly bag. If you're like most people these days, you won't have a proper jelly bag; it's easier to lay a couple of layers of cheesecloth in a strainer. Make sure enough cheesecloth hangs over the sides that you can pull the corners together and make a bag, and put strainer and cheesecloth over another pot, or a large bowl, and dump in the berries and juice. After the first 1-2 hours, gather the cheesecloth corners and tie them to form a bag; hang the bag over the pot/bowl, possibly from the knob of a cupboard. You'll probably want to use a loop of twine for this, because the cheesecloth will be pretty messy. (If you have friends or family who are into horror or goth, be sure to show them your hanging bag and "bloody" hands.) Let the berries drain awhile longer, a couple of hours to overnight.
Time for a break. Clean up, put the juice in the fridge, and throw away or compost the berries and cheesecloth. Now aren't you glad you dont have a jelly bag to wash? Make sure you have enough clean canning jars (I recommend 8 oz. jelly jars or those cute 4-oz. pots) and unused lids if you're going to can it.
When you're ready to continue (don't leave it more than a few days or you'll lose momentum), set the juice back over medium-low heat and simmer, uncovered and stirring occasionally, until it reduces to about half the volume or you're out of patience. If you have a candy thermometer, aim for the low end of the syrup range, about 210-215F (100C). While waiting on this, put water in your canning kettle and find whatever you put in the bottom to protect the jars (I use a washcloth since I lost my little wire thingy years ago). Start it heating. Arrange lids and (upside-down) jars in a shallow pan of water and get them boiling to sterilize them. Set out a kitchen towel to put the jars on while filling and, later, while cooling (NOT a good towel; use the same one you've been drying your washed and hulled strawberries on all summer). Find your jar-lifter or tongs and other canning tools as desired. Isn't that juice cooked to syrup yet?
When the juice is finally syrupy, fill the jars, leaving 1/4 inch or a little more headspace. Close jars and load the canner, adding more water if needed to cover the jars. Boil 10 minutes. Remove jars to the towel and listen for the pops while cleaning up; some may even seal while being removed from the canner.
Complete information on canning (.pdf file).
The Blackberry Chicken Calzone experiment
I wanted to start off my new blog with something creative and unusual, so in the best "what needs to be used up?" tradition I attempted... let's call it Blackberry Chicken Calzone. Unusual, I think I managed. Edible...?
It all started with the blackberries in a friend's back yard. She had eaten, frozen, and smoothied as many of the things as she could handle and they were still coming over the back fence like a tsunami; would I like to pick some for myself? Please?
So with one load from her yard and another from a local park (because now I was in full berrying mode and, after all, it's free food), I started out by making juice. This is an easy way to get rid of all those seeds. Then, since I still had blackberry jelly from last year and the row of canned grape juice next to it suggested I wasn't going to drink it as juice, I decided to cook it down into an unsweetened syrup sort of thing. The idea was to make sort of a blackberry version of pomegranate molasses, although later I realized that pomegranate molasses is sweetened.
Now that I had this blackberry molasses-oid, what to do with it? Remembering the original inspiration (I think it was a chicken fesenjan recipe?) and digging around in my freezer, I decided to cook some ground chicken in it. By tasting the juice and sniffing spices, I settled on a little garlic and onion, just because that's pretty much what goes on everything savory in my kitchen, plenty of cinnamon, and a bit of cubebs just because I hadn't used any for a long time. To be honest, I think they were too old to make much difference.
So far, so good. I had some pizza dough from the food bank in the freezer that I thawed for this little adventure. I'm not sure if it was supposed to be for a thin, crackery crust, if freezing killed the yeast, or if it was just too old, but it didn't rise. I stretched it out as best I could (with it ripping all the way), dumped the chicken in the middle, and pulled the edges over to make a sort of minimalist, one-filling calzone, then cooked it like the package said to, but it looked more dried than baked. Plus a lot of the bottom stuck to the pan. I gamely tried some of the fragments anyway, since that's what there was for dinner, and it wasn't actually too bad once you got past the appearance. Further experimentation showed crescent roll or puff pastry dough to be a better choice than the pizza dough, and that golden raisins or chopped dried figs made a good addition. The technique also works with other combinations of meat, juice/sauce, and additions.
Dessert was Trader Joe's shortcakes from the food bank via the freezer (thanks for donating them, TJ's!) under very basic strawberry sauce made by coarsely fork-mashing wonderful local strawberries from the Tumwater Farmers' Market, courtesy of their generous Market Match program.
Esperanta traduko: this post is also available in Esperanto, because Dana is a language geek.
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