Friends

The Appleton Farm Dairy Store: local milk, butter, & cheese

Monday, January 14th, 2013

 

“- until the cows come home,” means every afternoon around 2:30 in Ipswich.  A herd of thirty eight registered Jerseys come home to the dairy barn at Appleton Farms, the oldest continuously operating farm in America, a Trustees of Reservations Property.  The Appleton Farms Dairy Store, open to the public seven days a week, is now selling honest local terroir:  triple creme, cheddar cheeses, Greek yogurt, and delicate cultured butters, produced on the farm itself, with milk from the Appleton Farm Jerseys.

 

 

Heads bobbing, hip bones pointy from calving, full udders swaying, the gentle Appleton herd, anxious for the few cups of grain that rewards them as patient milkers, begin their languid march from pasture to barn at sundown, as dairy cows have done in paintings, prose, and poetry since we began eating cheese.  The slow pokes and day dreamers get prodded by Appleton Farm Dairy Manager, Scott Rowe (pictured below) and assistant Justin Sterling with a “hee-ah!” and a “git-up!”

 

 

Doe-eyed, soft cupped ears at attention, these chestnut beasts live well.  Except for milking (4:30 in the morning and 2:30 in the afternoon), they spend their time outdoors, eating a diet of 100 percent Ipswich hay, baled either on the 1,000 Appleton acres or on farms nearby.

“The goal is to make the cows as comfortable as possible, and to give them choices – when they can lie down, eat and drink,” Rowe explains.  Smelling of clean wood and sweet hay, the “tie-stall”-style barn allows enough room for the cows to lie down if they choose; it was once believed that prone cows produce better milk.

 

 

A particular Appleton Farms problem, the stalls, built originally for guernseys, are a little too high for the smaller Jerseys, who make a good show of hopping eight inches up to their places at milking time; some are more graceful than others.

Grass-fed, comfortable cows, Rowe says, translate into delicious milk.

“Our milk is tested by the state and by independent agents for protein, fat, and somatic cell count,” or the white cell count that indicates infection, classically mastitis, which plagues dairy farmers.  The Appleton herd’s somatic count is regularly 86,000 parts per million; “100,000 parts per million,” Rowe says,”is excellent.”

Milk from grass fed cows is considered nutritionally superior to their grain-fed brethren, as cows are basically machines translating the vitamins, linoleic acids (known to fight cancer) and omega 3 fatty acids of local grasses into cold glasses of sweet milk.  According to Appleton farms, Jersey cows metabolize hay more efficiently than larger breeds, allowing the highest yield of milk with a smaller carbon footprint.  (Appleton Farms, using a variety of methods – solar, electric vehicles, and organic farming -  prides itself on being almost carbon-neutral.)

 

 

Arlene Brokaw, Appleton Farms master cheese maker, rules the new stainless steel-plated creamery, separating curds from whey, pressing, salting, and then delivering the fresh milk tommes to the caves, dark rooms where mold, moisture, and time alchemize all into sharp, winey, crumbly cheddars and chalky, velvety rounds of triple creme.

 

 

 

Milk production varies but currently Brokaw is producing 600 to 700 gallons of cheese and yogurt a week.

 

 

Nine generations of Appletons farmed this 1,000 acres of rolling pastures ribboned by old stone walls and woodlands since 1636; Joan Appleton, heir-less, in 1998 donated the property and multiple buildings to The Trustees of Reservations, who promised to restore it as a working farm, “to engage people in real work,” Holly Hannaway, TTOR educator, told me.

“Appleton Farms always had a history of a dairy; in the 1860‘s, James Fuller Appleton had been instrumental in introducing the Jersey breed, valued for its high butterfat content, to the United States; we wondered, can we be a small American dairy again?”

In 2011, Appleton Farms, through the local Puleo dairy, began bottling and distributing its own milk in those cherished glass bottles.  The dairy processing operation was the last piece to being economically viable; what to do with a surplus of milk?  – what dairy farmers have known for centuries: transform it into valuable cheese, all of which can be purchased at the new dairy store on the Appleton Farms property.

Hannaway reminds that the store will be focused on dairy.  “It’s not to compete with but to compliment local agriculture in the community.  The cheese operation teaches how you can use land to compliment community.”   – those beautiful Appleton Farms meadows have economic and cultural value beyond the pleasures of landscape.

Along with Appleton Farms milk (skim, 1%, and whole) and staple dairy products – triple creme cheese, cheddar, cultured butter, and non-cultured butter, herbed rounds, and occasional surprises like fresh ricotta or Asiago -  the store will also support local vendors:  Topsfield cheesemaker, Valley View Farm, will be represented, maple syrup, honey, and A&J King fresh bread.  Local artwork hangs on the walls.  Of course, grass-fed beef, the other herd at Appleton Farms  – the White Park steer grazing out in the Great Pasture – is available in the dairy store, also.

 

 

Appleton Farms, 219 County Road, Ipswich, MA. Dairy Store Hours:  Monday – Friday, 11-6 and Saturday – Sunday, 10-4

 

Ceia Kitchen & Bar Cooks at The James Beard House

Wednesday, January 9th, 2013

 

(photo from Loring Barnes)

The Thursday night between Christmas and New Years Ceia Kitchen + Bar, the pearl of a restaurant from Newburyport, Massachusetts, prepared dinner at the The James Beard Foundation in Greenwich Village, New York. The provincial Cinderella, created and owned by Nancy Batista-Caswell, had received their invitation to the ball.

Ceia’s executive chef, Patrick Soucy, and his team Corey Marcoux, Andrew Beddoes, and Ian Thomas arrived at The Beard House a half hour early that day, too excited apparently to stay away any longer.  The Beard House staff later reported they had not seen the place packed so well in weeks (The Ceia dinner sold out), nor had they seen such an enthusiastic kitchen.

 

I was there, and am certain Soucy, Marcoux, and Beddoes never stopped smiling; they shifted great pans of butter-poached lobster and walnut-smoked rack of lamb buoyed by joy and the honor of shucking Chatham oysters in the kitchen of the first champion of American regional cuisine and local ingredients.  While Julia Child (a great friend of James Beard) was teaching Cambridge wives the how-to’s of coq au vin in the 1970’s, Beard was writing cookbooks on the beauty and value of Maine shrimp, three-bean salad, and Election Cake.

( photos from The Beard House and Eileen Miller.)

 

For many people James Beard symbolized a shelf of honest cookbooks packed with trustworthy American recipes and intelligent culinary history.  For me, being in the James Beard House was tender; my mother had most of his cookbooks, and they all came out for special dinners and holidays.  There were so many passages and stories about Beard, his friends, and his entertaining in those books that I heard his clippy, definitive voice as soon as I stepped off the Greenwich Village sidewalk into the narrow, gently lit foyer.  I could hear Beard’s words on Prune Whip:  “A classic over a long period, related to a souffle.  It’s good hot or cold, and is nostalgic, to a point.”

Or Baked Alaska:  “This has become a signature for elaborate dining in this country and is a dessert that causes ohs and ahs wherever it is presented.  I think it is greatly overrated, but it is a part of American life.”

It seemed as if much of the Henry James-style townhouse – the fireplaces, bookcases, and Americana wallpaper stamped with an ear of corn – was intentionally preserved as Beard’s home, but, like the grandmother’s house that never gets new furniture or fresh paint, much of it now just feels worn, which in fact makes Beard feel that much closer, as if the great man – a little older – were just upstairs adjusting the bow tie on his tux.

And yet for the much younger generation of cooks, for Soucy, Marcoux and Beddoes, the Beard Foundation is about the awards which began in 1991, and which crowned the cooking industry with credibility.  As Soucy says, The Beard Award, the Oscars of professional cuisine, made cooking “ok;” The Beard House, Soucy said, his voice still charged with awe when I spoke to him a week later, “is where all the big boys come to play.”

Along with the crested awards – distributed to a variety of professionals, from chefs to cookbook authors to restaurant designers -  The Beard House invites restaurants from around the country to prepare dinners in the Beard home, “a performance space for chefs,” Peter Kumpf who was one of the original conceptualizers of the Beard Foundation, described it.  The dinners are open to the public, and reservations can be made through Open Table; you can follow the Beard website, and see which restaurants from around the country will be showing up to cook;  This means you can dine at that great little Milwaukee restaurant featured in Food and Wine last month without having to fly to Milwaukee.  The hosted restaurant provides food, beverages, and their traveling expenses; the Beard House provides the kitchen, waitstaff, and linens.  Ceia’s night, the waitstaff rippled through the dining rooms, stacked on two floors to accommodate the town house architecture, answering  questions about Beard’s mirrored bathroom, and the odd placement of his shower, one wall of which was once all glass, opening up to his Greenwich Village neighbors.  At one point Nancy Batista-Caswell asked one of the Beard House waitstaff, “so, is this your gig?”  To which the waiter explained just how good the gig is:  “At the end of the day we interact with top American chefs; they’re making the best food, and there are no complaints.”

Petite, brunette Batista-Caswell, just thirty years old, had already quietly earned solid footing in the culinary world when she opened Ceia two years ago:  Johnson & Wales, work with Chris Schlesinger at The Back Eddy in Westport, and then developing and opening Bin Osteria for The Bin Hospitality Group.

Ceia’s wine list, Batista-Caswell’s personal creation, has gained the tiny restaurant a Wine Spectator Award of Excellence, which hangs beside a few more “best of’s,” including Boston Magazine’s 50 Best Restaurants of 2012.  Much of Ceia’s “Coastal European” inspiration borrows heavily from Batista Caswell’s Fairhaven, MA Portuguese roots; Ceia means “supper” in Portuguese.  Her mother often shows up to advise the kitchen.  The maitre D’ at the Beard House, also Portuguese, was delighted by Soucy’s elegant translation of some traditional dishes:  The first course, Sopa de Alentajo – a black garlic soup served with Iberico ham-wrapped crouton and topped with a poached duck egg, set the tone of the menu, re-interpreting the old world, retaining the best of it.

Soucy prides himself on being a farm-to-dinner chef, a challenge when preparing a serious dinner in December, but the five-course meal beautifully reflected both place and season: Iberico Porchetta with grilled clams, heirloom apples and a leek and cabbage vinaigrette.  Oxtail raviolo with root vegetables.  Walnut smoked rack of lamb with preserved lemon-stuffed olives.  A Musque de Provence Frittelle, that beautiful pink squash revered by Italians, made into a light pancake, and served with pumpkin seed ice cream, for dessert.

 

At my table butter-poached Maine lobster tail served with a corn sformato elicited the loudest mumbled mouthfuls of approval.  Soucy, knowing this dinner may be on the calendar, had picked the super sweet corn from Tendercrop farm in Newburyport at the peak of last summer’s season, and flash froze it.  He offered a brief table-side tutorial on how careful farmers space corn to allow the sun to hit the roots of the plant, resulting in the “super” to super sweet corn.  Soucy kindly provided the luscious sformato recipe.

A few updates:  Ceia has moved across the street to the former site of the Rockfish Grill, 38 State St., Newburyport, MA.  In February, Batista-Caswell will debut Brine, “a contemporary oyster, crudo, and chop bar with a market vibe” in the former Ceia location, 25 State St.

 

Preserved New England Corn Sformato

makes ten 4 ounce servings

Ingredients

1 quart bechamel sauce

1 1/2 cups ricotta (Soucy makes his own.)

4 large eggs, room temperature

1 cup fresh frozen corn puree

1 cup fresh shaved corn kernels

freshly grated nutmeg to taste

1/4 teaspoon ground clove

pinch fleur de sel or gray salt

freshly ground black pepper

3 tablespoons grated Parmigiana Reggiano

Instructions

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.  Slightly beat eggs and ricotta cheese.  Add the remaining ingredients.  Pour mixture into 4 ounce buttered and breadcrumb-dusted ramekins.  Place ramekins in a roasting pan, and pour in hot water so that it reaches half-way up the sides of the ramekins to create a hot water bath.

Bake for 35 – 40 minutes or until set.  Turn over onto plate and serve.

 

 

 

Batter Up Macaroons, Santa Bait

Sunday, December 16th, 2012

 

Batter Up Bakery of Manchester makes all kinds of delicious, thick, small-batch cookies, but their macaroons –  coconut towers, delicately crispy outside and tenderly yeilding inside – are Santa-magnets.  If you have any naughty vs. nice jitters, I recommend you find a bag now, so that Santa’s offering is very, very nice.

 

 

 

Batter Up Bakery cookies are available at:

The Meat House, 15 Enon Street, Beverly, Massachusetts

The Grove Boutique & Cafe, 17D Beach Street, Manchester, Massachusetts

Vidalia’s Market, 9 West Street, Beverly Farms, Massachusetts

The Cave, 44 Main Street, Gloucester Massachusetts

Fish Shack Chowder

Wednesday, October 31st, 2012

 

In the great tradition of barn-raising, volunteers in Lanesville have been assembling every Saturday morning since last spring in Lanescove to renovate The Fish Shack, one of the many fish houses that once lined the edges of the cove.   And, in the great tradition of community barn-raising, they needed lunch.

 

 

(“They’re called fish houses!” journalist Barbara Erkkila insists. The artists who arrived in Gloucester to paint the quaint harbor settings began calling them “shacks.”)

According to Nancy Gaines of the Gloucester Times, some of the Cape Ann fish houses date back two hundred years.  Some were constructed with materials from old shipwrecks.  The Lanescove Fish Shack is thought to be approximately 125 years old.  That was almost a finality when the City of Gloucester condemned the building, for years unloved, in June, 2011.  Still, when a December, 2010 storm lashed a great chunk out of the Lanescove seawall, toppling many tons of granite block, the Fish Shack stood, probably because the building was so riddled with holes that wind and seawater ran through it like a strainer.

In 2011 some Lanesville citizens rallied together, and petitioned the city to preserve this totem to bountiful fishing years, this nod to the grace of simple New England architecture, this Lanesville motif.

For a sum of $80,000, the group secured $20,000 in Community Preservation Funds, $3,000 from the Waterways Board, and $26,000 in private donations.  The difference has been finished in donated labor and materials, like the rough-hewn Lanesville forest lumber from Peter Natti’s sawmill.

 

Since last spring – or since Kyle Conant saw the crew working really hard and decided to order them pizzas -  generous lunch providers have come through.

Barbara Jobe, one of the instrumental figures in the “Save Our Shack” team, is loosely in charge of scheduling the Fish Shack lunches.  There has been three-bean chili with chicken, lentil soup with chicken, gazpacho on a hot summer day, pots of chowder, Smokin’ Jims pulled pork, Plum Cove Grind sandwiches, banana bread, brownies, carrot cake cupcakes, and something called “Milk Bread,” about which I’m dying to know more.

Some people order pizzas; some order sandwiches; everyone gets the community spirit of the whole thing, and wants to do what ever they can to help.

The Lanesville Bluefish Tournament even pitched together and gave $300 to the Fish Shack volunteers, money which has been escrowed into the official morning coffee fund.

I understand that Brian Church made the crew the best Fish Shack Chowder Ever, a thick creamy stew mounded with scallops, clams, shrimp, and great hunks of lobster.

 

My Saturday morning effort was a humbler chowder, served with pumpkin biscuits and the New England-branded Joe Frogger cookies.  Since Brian Church is keeping his recipe secret, I’m offering you mine, which doesn’t have lobster and scallops but is easy to throw together for a crowd on a hectic Saturday morning and, with the addition of clove, dill, and vermouth, makes a Yankee staple just a little bit sophisticated, just like Lanesville.  Joe Frogger blog and recipe coming soon.

 

You, too, could feed this happy crew!  Contact Barbara Jobe at lobsterluv@gmail.com.

 

 

Lastly, while I was serving lunch, we all noted one more Fish Shack in Lanescove that might need saving:

 

Fish Shack Chowder

 

serves 6

Ingredients

2 pounds haddock or cod fillets

2 medium potatoes, peeled and sliced

3 tablespoons parsley chopped

2 1/2 teaspoons salt

4 whole cloves

1 garlic clove peeled and crushed

3 medium Bermuda onions, sliced

1/2 cup butter

1/4 tsp. dried dill

1/4 tsp. white pepper

1/2 cup dry white wine or vermouth

2 cups boiling water

2 cups light cream

 

Instructions

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Put all ingredients, except cream, into a 6 quart casserole.  Cover and bake for one hour.  Heat cream to scalding and add to chowder.  Stir to break up fish.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Running Ransom Road,” by Caleb Daniloff – and a pasta recipe

Monday, October 8th, 2012

 

My first impression of Caleb Daniloff is that there is nothing of the Kentucy-Fried-Chicken-bloated, slogging runner he describes himself as early in the book Running Ransom Road.  Daniloff strides into the Commonwealth Avenue coffee shop where we’re meeting, a lean athlete, his solid 8-minute-mile pace evident even in street clothes.  The skin across his cheek bones is taught, a runner’s complexion.

My second impression is that there is not one flicker of the addled addict, the young man desperately living only to bury deeper who he is beneath one more bender, to perhaps scorch his famous father, Nicholas Daniloff, the UPI Moscow correspondent arrested by the KGB in an international incident in the 1980‘s.

 

In his running/recovery memoir, Caleb observes his father almost always from away – from away at boarding school, from the finish line of his father’s own first marathon, from the other side of the glass in the Moscow prison where his father’s being held; the son always sees a small, gentle intellectual with heavy black-rimmmed glasses, an aloof man who assembles life in facts and deadlines, with whom the troubled teenager believes he shares nothing.

In fact, sitting calmly across from me in his denim shirt, gray-blue eyes as direct and examining as lasers behind wire-rimmed specks, his voice surprisingly tentative, Caleb Daniloff seems to be just like that quiet intellectual he had tried so hard with drugs and alcohol not to be.  Caleb courteously asks me if I found the place ok.  Whether it’s speaking of his wife (the relationship for which he became sober) his daughter, or even his parents, the man’s thoughtfulness pulses softly.  It’s easy to see how demons could easily have had their way with this gentle personality.

Running Ransom Road is Daniloff’s Dantean journey through the streets of the cities where addiction ruled him, where, almost always stoned and loaded he did terrible, awful, nasty things to himself and others.  The marathon route is Daniloff’s Virgil.  The exhaustion mile nineteen imparts is the lens through which Daniloff views Boston, Burlington, Mt. Hermon, Moscow and Washington, the cities where he was that other person.

Here’s just one of those loathsome tales:  At his boarding school, after years of warnings from authorities, Daniloff disappeared just before graduation to a motel room to get stoned with who-knows-who, sending the school into a panic search for a missing student, and finally giving them no choice but, on graduation day, to expel him.  Guess who was the commencement speaker? – celebrity journalist, Nicholas Daniloff.

That’s just the beginning; the stories are painful:  barely ever sober at the University of Vermont.  In graduate school at Colombia, waking up alone in his apartment on Tuesday, the last he remembered it had been Friday.

Daniloff says that through the dense fog of gone-ness there was always writing.  He was writing poetry all along.  It shows here in the book.

About mile twenty in Burlington, Daniloff writes, “My spit was so thick I could chew it and my legs felt like frozen sides of beef pummeled by a boxer.”

Back in Vermont, newly sober, he says, “there was a lot of empty space between now and then, and most of the time I felt like a plastic grocery bag skittering across a desolate parking lot.”

It’s a beautiful read of an incredibly bad Holden Caulfield.  But Catcher in the Rye ends before the self-awareness and the honesty.  In Running Ransom Road, Daniloff skewers himself on the honest blade again and again.

Daniloff has written for Vermont Public Radio, NPR, “The Boston Globe” and often in “Runner’s World,” where he wrote a piece about his own experience with disordered eating, when a runner takes the numbers game to meals, maniacally counting calories and carbs in the name of lighter and faster.  Daniloff tells of hoping the dirt he is showering off his legs from the morning run will bring him down to the magical 157 pounds, the weight he is sure will allow him to break the 4 hour marathon wall.  He’s always aware that running as “a sobriety tool” is often about trading one addiction for another.

I’m a runner, but that’s the least of why the pages turned in Running Ransom Road;  there’s voyeurism, there’s Schadenfreude – don’t we all like a recovering addict story? -  but mostly I read because Daniloff’s self-examination makes each of his marathons a heartbreaking novella of frailty and hope.

Here’s a favorite pre-race meal from Daniloff.  I’ve made it twice now;  in my house it’s simply a favorite, although I’m sure I run better the next day when this is for dinner. Daniloff likes Costco pesto; I confess I make my own, leaving out the garlic.

 

Pasta Daniloff

serves 4-6

Ingredients

1 package Trader Joe’s apple chicken sausage

1 large clove garlic, chopped

2 tablespoons olive oil

1/2 cup pesto, or more to taste (Daniloff likes Costco’s brand)

1 pound spaghetti (I used penne)

1 heaping tablespoon salt

Instructions:

Heat a large skillet to medium.  Add the olive oil, and let it warm. Put in the garlic, and toss around until it just begins to brown.

Slice the sausages into 1/2 inch thick disks.  Add to the pan, tossing occasionally until both sides are nicely browned and the garlic is getting crispy.  Daniloff says not to worry if the garlic burns just a little.

Bring a pot of water for the pasta to a boil.  Add the salt, and then add the pasta.  Cook until al dente, approximately 12 minutes, and drain.

Stir in the pesto, and toss well.  Add the sausages and garlic, and toss again.  Serve immediately.

 

Janis Tester’s Ethiopian Food: Berbere and Doro Wat

Tuesday, September 4th, 2012

 

 

Janis Tester is an earth mother with an Ipad.   Slinging tweets while Chinese plum sauce simmers on her stove, declaring on facebook “I wanna live on a farm” as the homemade kimchee goes into jars, Janis Tester is beloved in certain food circles because the pleasure she gets thinking about what she’s going to do with a goat shank or a regal globe of a homegrown cabbage cannot be contained on a computer screen.  Janis’s blog, Bite Me New England, a name only a woman transplanted to Marlboro, Massachusetts after living a full life-time in California is allowed to use,  cannot be resisted by bloggers from Los Angeles to Gascony.  As California as a surfboard, as re-tweetable as Deepak Chopra, as authentic as Alice Waters, as process-smitten as Grant Achatz, as warm as a Jewish grandmother, Janis Tester is a food blogger’s food blogger.  

Follow her on Facebook and twitter and you, too, will soon be sipping a Manhattan, and downloading her recipe for Malaysian Spatchcocked Spicy Grilled Chicken,  “This would not be my blog if I didn’t give you ANOTHER chicken recipe,” Tester declares.

One post begins with Janis thinking about doing something with spherification, a favorite process of the Molecular Gastronomists in which unusual ingredients become caviar shapes by messing with negative and positive charges in an un-ionized solution.  Janis had intended to make lime, cilantro and tequila spheres for topping salmon, and maraschino cherry spheres to go in those manhattans.  Something didn’t work out; she made chicken instead, this one coated all over, even beneath the skin, with cilantro, garlic and chiles, filled with salsa, covered in Mexican beer, and baked.  Just another argument for real food when choosing between that and ions.   Vietnamese pork neck stew, Banana Blossom Salad, Morrocan Meatball and Egg Tangine – these are just some of the recipes you’ll find coming out of her kitchen and into the blog.

All this sounds nice, right, yet another foodie blogger willing to gut a fish and cure a duck?  The story gets better.

“You see, when my neighbors told me they were adopting two little kids from Ethiopia, the first thing I thought was, ‘what can I make them?’

Tester started with dabo, a honey bread, and went on to full Ethiopian dinners.  Staining pages from Jeff Smith’s “The Frugal Gourmet on our Immigrant Ancestors,” Tester made berbere, almost the whole spice drawer – from cumin to fenugreek -  in a toasted paste, a fundamental flavor in Ethiopian cuisine.

 

She made tibs, lamb stew with cardamon, cumin and more berbere.

She made doro wat, the tradtitional chicken stew with – yes, berbere  – and hard boiled eggs.

 

She made shiro, a spicy spread made with chickpea flour and berbere, which the kids spread thickly on injira and gobbled.  Yes, Tester even made injira, the foamy disks of dough made from Teff flour, a native Ethiopian grass.  Tester walked me through the recipe, multiple stages of adding and waiting and resting and watching it separate into layers, all with the hopes of achieving the wondrous foamy textured bread that scoops and wraps Ethiopian cuisine.

“Water is different in Ethiopia,” Tester said.  She thinks that accounts for injira’s variability even over Ethiopia; for Tester that fabled texture was just short of impossible to achieve, but her neighbor declared it just what she’d eaten in a home in Ethiopia.

One evening after the children had been here for a while, and their English was solid, Janice had prepared much of the above – doro Wat, injira, shiro - for a special dinner.  Everything was set; the house was redolent with all those spices; Berbere hung in the air.

The children came running in the front door, and the little boy called out, “mmmm, it smells good!”

“What’s it smell like,” Tester asked.  (They call her Auntie Janice.)

“Home.”

 

Janice and I discussed which recipe to include here, and we agreed that a recipe for berbere was the most important.   Without berbere, doro wat is chicken stew with hard-boiled eggs; Tibs is lamb stew with cardamon.  Make a batch of berbere, and your pantry is ready for Ethiopia.  Many of the recipes are available on Bite Me New England.

But I made Doro Wat, too, and am including Janis’s recipe for that.  I also made the spice-infused clarified butter, but Janis says you can easily substitute ghee.

I’d never had Doro Wat, or any Ethiopian food before, and the vote is it’s very spicy, no surprises when Ethiopian recipes seem to use cayenne like Indians use curry.  But the background flavors were delicious, too.  This was a complex spicy chicken, the way Mexican mole is complex, NOT the way buffalo chicken wings are one dimensional spicy.  By the way, Tester’s young Ethiopian friends love buffalo chicken wings.

 

Berbere

Yield: 1 1/4 cups

recipe by Jeff Smith in “The Frugal Gourmet on our Immigrant Ancestors”

Ingredients

2 Tsp Cumin Seed

4 Whole Cloves

1/2 Tsp Cardamon Seeds

1/2 Tsp Black Peppercorns

1/4 Tsp Whole Allspice

1 Tsp Whole Fenugreek Seeds

1/2 Cup Dried Onion Flakes

3 Oz Red New Mexican Chiles — Stemmed And Seeded

3 Small Dried Long Hot Red Chiles — Seeded

1/2 Tsp Ground Ginger

1/2 Tsp Freshly Ground Nutmeg

1/4 Tsp Ground Turmeric

1 Tsp Garlic Powder

2 Tsp Salt

1/2 Cup Salad Or Peanut Oil

1/2 Cup Dry Red Wine

Cayenne to taste

Instructions

Mix together the cumin, cloves, cardamon, black peppercorns, allspice and fenugreek seeds. Place in a small frying pan over medium heat. Stir constantly until they release their fragrance, about 1-2 minutes. Do not burn or discolor the seeds. Cool completely.

Combine the toasted spices and all the other ingredients except the oil and wine in a spice grinder or electric coffee grinder in several batches (I use the coffee grinder) and grind to fine consistency. Place the spice blend in a bowl and add the oil and wine. Add cayenne to taste (Jeff starts with 1 tsp and adds more as necessary). Stir until thick and store in a covered plastic container in the refrigerator.

 

 

 

 

 

Doro Wat Chicken from Bite Me New England

Ingredients

3 Lbs Frying Chicken Cut Into 8 Pieces

Juice Of One Lime

5 Cups Thinly Sliced Red Onions

1/2 Cup Spiced Butter

1/2 Cup Berbere Sauce

1/2 Cup Dry Red Wine

2 Cloves Garlic — Crushed

2 Tsp Cayenne

1/2 Tsp Grated Fresh Ginger

1/2 Cup Water

Salt To Taste

4 Hard Boiled Eggs — Peeled

1/2 Tsp freshly ground

Instructions

Marinate the chicken pieces in the lime juice for hour. In a heavy saucepan saute the onions in 2 tbsp of the spiced butter. Cover the pot and cook the onions over low heat until they are very tender but not browned. Add the remaining butter to the pot along with the Berbere sauce, wine, garlic, cayenne and ginger. Add 1/2 cup of water and mix well. Bring to a simmer and add the chicken pieces. Cook, covered, for 30-40 minutes or until the chicken is tender, adding more water as necessary to keep the sauce from drying out. When the chicken is tender, add salt to taste. Add the eggs and heat through. Top with the black pepper prior to serving.

In my photo I sprinkled cilantro on top, but Tester says there’s no cilantro in Ethiopia; thyme or rue would be accurate.

The Saketini

Sunday, July 29th, 2012

 

 

Stage and screen actress Jacqueline Knapp recently appeared beside Al Pacino and John Goodman in the television movie “You Don’t Know Jack” about the life of Jack Kevorkian.  She’s headlined in the Broadway production of Dancing At Lughnasa.  The soap of soaps, “All My Children,” gave her Texas ranch-woman character five episodes of plot-line.  Knapp is also the Associate Artistic Director of The Actor’s Studio, and sits on its Board of Directors.

Most relevant here, she summers in a Folly Cove cottage neighboring mine that her great aunt purchased years ago, and has been the family retreat for three generations.  Jacqueline always brings her Manhattan electricity when neighbors meet on The Howlet’s stone porch for cocktails, but a recent warm July evening, she and her partner, Skip Curley, cooled our crew with Saketinis:  icy cold Hendrick’s Gin and Sake floating a fresh slice of cucumber.

 

Cool, round and earthy, the drink was like cold stones and freshly cut grass.  A sip  was like the steel blade of a knife slicing a freshly picked cucumber.

Fishermen say that when bluefish are in the middle of a feeding frenzy the fresh scent of cucumbers rises off the sea water.  I’m not going to say why because the explanation is not pretty but this is a real phenomenon.

In a Saketini, I don’t think there is a drink that so perfectly compliments a steamy night on Cape Ann, the apple tree utterly still except for a branch rustled by plump robins settling into sleep, the bluefish dark and quiet beneath the cold waters of Folly Cove at our feet.

 

 

Because everything should be easy on a Thursday night in the summer, Jacqueline served our Saketinis in shallow glass ramekins; save the stem glasses for the holiday parties.

 

Saketini, Jacqueline Knapp-style

3 ounces Hendrick’s Gin

1/2 ounce Sake

one slice of cucumber

Pour ingredients into a shaker filled with ice and stir will.  Strain into a shallow glass ramekin.  Float a cucumber slice.

 

 

 

 

 

Annie Copps’ Open-Face Peach and Blueberry Tart

Tuesday, July 17th, 2012

In the late 1980‘s Annie Copps sauced and sauteed in Boston’s best kitchens.  It was a revolutionary time for restaurants; the word “local” wasn’t yet exhausted, but chefs Jasper White and Lydia Shire were just beginning to create five-star cuisine with American ingredients and traditions.  Michela Larson of Michela’s restaurant had banished red sauce from her kitchen, and was redefining Italian dining, spooning out curiosities like gnocchi, caponata and fresh pasta.  Todd English was just a quiet, heavy-browed guy with a mad passion for Mediterranean flavors and delicate crusted pizza.  Gordon Hammersley and Jody Adams were sous chefs, and Annie Copps was in the middle of it, on the line at Jasper’s, Michela’s and Olive’s kitchens.  Every Sunday off, Copps prepared dinner with her roommate, a young South Boston girl named Barbara Lynch, who also worked at Michela’s and Olives when she wasn’t buried in the great Italian cookbooks by Waverly Root and Elizabeth David.  Copps remembers watching  her zealous roommate studying, and saying to herself, “I’m into this; she’s REALLY into this.” Barbara Lynch went on to open five successful restaurants of her own, including No. 9 Park.  The women are still great friends.

But Annie Copps’ high-octane personality couldn’t be contained in one career.  She began flirting with a television camera in the 1990‘s, working with Jaques Pepin and Julia Child shooting their cooking show, at the same time beginning a masters degree in public health.  Oldways, an organization dedicated to preserving traditional ways of eating, derailed that degree.  Copps spent four years with them traveling to villages in Spain, Italy and Greece, putting together conferences with chefs, local public health officials and food importers, finding ways to promote specific regional foods in ways that would sustain those cultures.  The next time you put farro, bulgher, yogurt, avocados – even olive oil – in your shopping cart, know that most of those ingredients are grocery staples thanks to Oldways’ efforts.

Copps eventually came home to Boston for yet another career variation, this time as food editor of Boston Magazine from 2000 to 2005.  Yankee Magazine lured her away as their food editor from 2005 to 2011.

I’ve worked with people like Copps before – we all have.  Not only are they doing their job better than anyone in the room, but they’re so dynamic you can’t wait to get to work to be with them.   If you’re in the restaurant business, you stay late and sit at the bar with the crew just because that person is going to be there, and you know no one will ever stop laughing.  Copps operates with more horse power when she’s having a simple dinner interview than most of us on our sharpest days.

That’s probably why her next career move was to the Today Show, where, in three minutes and twenty-seven seconds she can teach America how to make lobster an affordable meal:  she whooshes through a warm lobster dip, then baked lobster tails accompanied by a cherry tomato and lobster salad.   And she cripples you with humor.  I had to watch the video three times to finally stop laughing and get the recipes right.

Copps is also currently co-host of WGBH’s Daily Dish, and spending autumn to winter teaching cooking classes on the Oceania Cruise Line, home to a restaurant created by Jaques Pepin.  Here’s Copps on Pepin:  “He’s a great chef, a wonderful man, and (at seventy-seven) still the last one at the party.”

I asked Annie for some sweeping comments on current food trends; she answered, “I”m happy to see foams and smears go.  I still love plates that look really beautiful, but not manipulated.  I want local, regional, and seasonal to stay; they speak volumes for the sustainability of communities.  I hope the word ‘foodie’ goes away.”

Copps is sometimes droll, sometimes ribald, sometimes killing.  Next to that, she’s a practical and smart cook.  Each of her recipes is that hallowed combination of simplicity, just enough surprise and glamour to be more than homey, and deliciousness.

Here’s a recipe for the best open-faced tart you’ll ever make.  As Copps says, “That dough is fantastic.  You can make it, and freeze it, and it is still so flakey (could be all the BUTT-er).  If you leave the sugar out, it’s a terrific top for chicken (seafood) pot pie.”

To see her present the tart and other easy summer desserts on the Today Show, click here.   - and check out the Today Show website for more of her recipes.

 

Annie B. Copps’ Open-Faced Peach and Blueberry Tart

 

Ingredients

1 ½ cups (6 ¾ ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour

2 teaspoons sugar

½ teaspoon table salt

11 tablespoons (5 ½ ounces) cold, unsalted butter

1 large egg yolk

2 tablespoons whole milk

About 3 cups sliced (1/4-inch thick) peaches (skins removed if you like), or just about any combination of fruits and berries (except bananas)

About 1 cup blueberries (pick through to remove any stems)

1/4 cup brown (or white) sugar

2 teaspoons cornstarch or tapioca

2 teaspoons vanilla or almond extract

almond paste (optional)

 

Instructions

In a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, combine the flour, sugar, and salt. Cut the butter into ½ inch cubes and add them to the flour. On low speed combine the butter and flour just until the flour is no longer white and holds together when you clump it with your fingers – 1 to 2 minutes. If there are any lumps of butter larger than a pea, break them up with your fingers.

In a small bowl, mix the egg yolk and milk, then add to the flour mixture (on low speed… about 15 seconds ought to do it). The dough ought to still be a little lumpy and perhaps dry. Dump it onto a clean and lightly floured work surface.  Work it with the heel of your hand, pushing and smearing it away from you then gathering it back together with a bench scraper, until the dough comes together. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap, then flatten it into a flat disk and refrigerate for at least a half hour (up to four days—you can freeze it for months and months).

Heat oven to 350 degrees.

On a floured surface, roll out the dough into a 13 to 14 inch-round–it’s okay if the edges are little ragged. Place on a baking sheet and stick it back in the fridge while you get the fruit together.

For the filling, you’ll need about 4 cups of fruit total and I am all for whatever makes you two happy, perhaps whatever is in season when you get a hankering for pie. Combine the fruits, sugar, cornstarch, and extract (if using).

If using almond paste, form about 4 to 5 tablespoons into a ball; flatten the ball, then roll out into a thin circle.

Remove the pastry from the fridge and let it sit for a few minutes.  Place the almond paste disk in the center (it’s okay if it tears—you can even break it up into pieces). Heap the fruit in the center of the dough leaving a 2-inch rim around the outside (or carefully arrange it in circular pattern if you are using sliced stone fruit or apples). Fold the edges of the dough over the fruit, pleating as you go.

If you are feeling fancy, you can make an egg wash and brush the exposed dough, then sprinkle it with sugar. Bake for 50-55 minutes, or until the pastry is light brown and juices are starting to run.

pastedGraphic.pdf

Marvin Roberts and a Fresh Raspberry Vinaigrette

Friday, June 29th, 2012

When giving a tour of his Witham St. garden, Marvin Roberts apologizes with a humility that reveals his northwest Ohio roots, “Geez, I’m sorry, I can’t remember the common name, but that’s Helianthus tuberosus.”

- Jerusalem artichokes.

Roberts identifies everything in his garden by their latin names; genus and species never fail; only his common English occasionally lapses.

Probably one of the most serious farmers north of Boston, Marvin Roberts doesn’t have a stand at the farmers‘ markets, nor is he hailed as a farmer hero by any local restaurant.  Still, his half-acre boasts Red Haven peaches, asparagus, rhubarb, cherries, blueberries, jerusalem artichokes, alliums from Walking onions to Egyptian onions, burdock, horseradish, kale, quinoa, herbs for any bouquet garni, and a raspberry patch as lush as a rain forest.

 

 

 

A couple of small pots by the door hold a watercress experiment.

There’s not a brown spot or a limp stem in the property.  Built upon fill – - for years, Roberts pedaled buckets of seaweed up from Good Harbor Beach – the garden is a mini-Findhorn, a fertile crescent in a densely packed Gloucester neighborhood.

I wrote about Roberts on my blog last year, and this year he kindly invited me back to visit.

With a Ph.D. in Botany, Roberts has taught in four different states.  His paper on the ballistic seed dispersal of the Illicium plant received international attention.  (Exploding llicium seed pods, the plant’s great evolutionary trick, can shoot 40 feet, a serious “ouch!” if you’re nearby.)

He keeps thermometers in his soil; most plants germinate at 60 degrees.  At one point in our tour, Roberts bent over with a tool to remove a rare thrust of what looked like common grass, almost lost to my eye between burgeoning horseradish and rhubarb.

“See this,” Roberts points, “ – sedge.  It’s a weed that’s driving me crazy.  I know exactly when it came here; I bought a bag of cheap potting soil from Shaw’s five years ago, ‘cuz it was on sale, and it was in the mix.”  Roberts went on to explain that sedge looks like a yellow grass but it’s not really a grass; it’s an aquatic plant. My point is that Roberts knows more about the provenance and botany of his weeds than most people, including myself, know of their summer squash.

Because he’s got both science and imagination (He referenced McGee’s great book on Food and Cooking, the Science of Lore of the Kitchen a few times in our conversation.) Roberts is a probably also one of the more inventive, adaptive cooks I know.  He told me about one thanksgiving he collected mussels from Plum Cove, and put them in his turkey stuffing.  Here’s my favorite story:  that same thanksgiving Roberts also collected red algae to make his own Blanc Mange.

Marvin generously gave me a jar of his homemade rhubarb, coconut, and almond topping for ice cream, which quickly disappeared, and he insists the recipe is just a jumble.  So I am including here a recipe from Amanda Hesser’s wonderful book documenting her year-long friendship with the gardener at the famous French cooking school, La Varenne.  This recipe is a wonderful use for all those quarts of raspberries for which Marvin will soon be fighting the happy birds.

 

 

Amanda Hesser’s Raspberry Vinaigrette

Ingredients

1 cup raspberries

coarse or kosher salt to taste

1/4 cup best quality olive oil (very important)

Instructions

Crush the raspberries with a fork on in your fists and push them through a fine sieve to extract as much juice as possible.  This should yield 1/4 cup of juice.  In a small bowl whisk the juice with a little salt, and slowly add the olive oil, a drop at a time, whisking constantly.  As the dressing emulsifies and thickens, you can add the oil in a slow, steady stream, until all the oil has been added and is well incorporated.  Correct the seasoning with more salt if necessary.  Hesser recommends this on soft bib lettuces.

*note:  if the raspberries are bland, add a teaspoon of balsamic vinegar.

 

Chris DelGross and Risotto Milanese Mexicana

Thursday, June 28th, 2012

 

Chris Delgross’s culinary faith lies in two trinities:  the mirepoix with which so many Italian dishes begin:  celery, onion, and carrots.  – and the start of great Mexican recipes:  onion, tomato and chilies.  DelGross cooks “Mexitalian Cuisine,” a unique style he documents on The DelGrosso Food Blog.  (No, that final “o” isn’t a typo;  the DelGrosso family lost the “o” when they immigrated, but DelGross added it back to his blog. Watch his risotto video here:  http://food.gloucestertimes.com/videos/Risotto-Mexicano.html)

A former U.S. marine, Chris DelGross lives in coastal Maine, and works for Rochester Electronics in Newburyport, MA as a test engineer.  Married with a seven-year-old daughter and a new baby almost here, DelGross is nothing if not ardent about cooking.  Whether it’s every day dinner, auditioning for MasterChef (He was called back, but didn’t make the final cut), or preparing the meal for his wife’s baby shower (caprese salad, homemade pizzas, baked shells with homemade bolognese), DelGross’s heart is one hundred percent present at the stove.

As a child DelGross woke up every Sunday to the smells of his father’s Italian sauce – a combination of meats – pigs feet, sausage, meatballs, chicken -  seared with garlic and onion, and then cooked with tomato paste.  Chris turned the handle on the pasta machine for the holiday raviolis.  Christmas Eve meant the feast of the seven fishes;  Easter was Shadone, an Easter Pie made with ricotta cheese, meats, and 14 eggs.

 

But, DelGross is zealous about his wife’s family cuisine.  The DelGross family travels every year to Mexico City, where DelGross says he almost never leaves his mother-in-law – Maria del Carmen’s – side in the kitchen.  Carmen has taught DelGross how to make bacalao vizcaina - shredded salt cod sauteed in garlic, onions and chilis, and served with fresh bollilos.  He’s learned about cooking tripe:  cleaned, boiled and stewed in gaujillos sauce.  And he’s learned the complex art of cooking with chilies.  The fundamental lesson, he says, is to always roast fresh chilies or toast dried chilies to evoke the flavors that make Mexican cuisine great.  The sugars emerge and the flavors transform when chilies are treated with heat; ancho chilies, for instance, smell like raisins when they’re toasted; guajillos smell like peanuts.

 

Along with impressing the people at MasterChef, Delgross recently won first place with his morel, wild ramp, poblano, and goat cheese soufflee in a contest sponsored by Marx Foods.  His culinary dreams include owning a Mexitalian food truck, serving dishes like gnocchi in a tomato poblano sauce, tacos with braciole, tortas with Italian meats, shells stuffed with chorizo.  (DelGross makes his own chorizo, along with his own ricotta and mozzarella cheeses, and of course pastas.)

DelGross designed this Mexitalian dish for another MarxFoods contest; a classic risotto Milanese made with saffron and butter, the dish crosses continents when DelGross adds with tequila, homemade chorizo, and manchego cheese.

He uses Integrale rice, a whole grain arborio rice with the bran still intact, but this dish can be prepared with traditional arborio rice, although it may need slightly less broth; just taste for doneness.

Integrale Milanese Mexicana

 

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups Integrale rice

1 clove garlic

1/2  medium yellow onion

1/3 cup Tequila Añejo

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil

½ teaspoon saffron

1 teaspoon salt

½ lb. Mexican Chorizo

¼ cup Manchego Cheese

5 cups Chicken Broth

 

Instructions

Place the 5 cups of broth in a saucepan and bring to a simmer.

Add the saffron to the broth and keep very warm.

Meanwhile, take the chorizo and heat over medium heat and cook for about 10 minutes, breaking it up with a wooden spoon as it cooks.

Place 2 tablespoons of the olive oil in a large sauté pan over medium-high heat.

Once it is hot, add the onion and garlic and cook until translucent, but not browning.

Add the rice and stir to combine.

Add the Tequila and cook until it is completely absorbed.

Start adding the stock about 1 cup at a time and stirring constantly until each cup of stock is completely absorbed before adding the next. After 4 cups of stock have been added, start tasting the rice (or about 20 minutes)

When the rice is al dente, remove from heat and add the remaining 2 tablespoons of butter and the cheese and stir vigorously.

Plate the risotto and sprinkle with the chorizo. Garnish with fresh parsley or fresh oregano.