Archive for the ‘food’ Category

Farming goes uptown

Saturday, October 24th, 2009
A tractor is loaded up with ramps from Paisley Farm.  Photo credit: Paisley Farm

A tractor is loaded up with ramps from Paisley Farm. Photo credit: Paisley Farm

So I’ve been in New York City all week working on my canning cookbook, published by Rodale (due summer 2010!) with  chef/collaborator Kelly Geary, owner of Sweet Deliverance NYC.

As part of the book, I’ve been interviewing a few farmers and growers.  Kelly went ahead and arranged for me to meet her farmers — the people who supply her catering/CSA business with all its vegetables — husband and wife team Mike Kokas and Jan Greer of Paisley Farm, located in the Hudson Valley of upstate New York.

Mike and Jan requested we meet in the city at a restaurant on the Upper West Side called Telepan.

I really didn’t know what to expect. I’ve been out of the city for so long, I have lost all pretense of knowing what’s cool or sophisticated or knowing what’s going on in Manhattan foodie world. So I show up at this restaurant, wearing a “chic” OP flannel shirt from Walmart and my customary green vest.  I looked like my usual hapless, country bumpkin self while the restaurant was, to my surprise,  fancy and gourmet (but cozy and warm).  Great, I thought, why don’t I just wear a pair of overalls?

I arrived at the restaurant a bit early–it was a few minutes before 5 and the restaurant hadn’t officially opened. A well-dressed couple was standing outside the front door.  The three of us stood outside  making idle chit chat for a moment or two before the doors were unlocked. The couple dressed and talked like they could be art dealers or architects or any number of glamorous professions. They were energetic and witty and looked like they probably lived on Central Park West.

Then chef and owner Bill Telepan — who I quickly gleaned is a household name in the farm-to-table foodie world and who has been written up in everything from the New York Times, Bon Appetit, Wine Spectator, Food & Wine — came out  and warmly greeted the couple, like the three of them were old friends.  (Bill Telepan is also very handsome. I could see him having his own show on the Food Network, or something.)

Well, you know what happens next: The couple turned out to be Mike and Jan from Paisley Farms! This incredibly sophisticated, well-dressed and worldly twosome standing next to me WERE FARMERS.

We were ushered into the restaurant and took a seat at the bar.  Turns out Mike and Jan have been supplying some of NYC’s finest restaurants — I’m talking Blue Hill, Gramercy Tavern, Telepan-level good restaurants — with farm fresh produce for the past 20 years.  That Kelly is already a member of this esteeemed tribe bodes well for her business (and, ahem, our book).

Jan and Mike must be quite good friends with Mr. Telepan because he kept sending all sorts of yummy dishes out of the kitchen for us to peruse — tart beet salads, smoked trout, an incredible bacon and egg-type appetizer and roast squab — I felt like a food writer for the Times, or something…. a food writer who dressed like a lumberjack.

As I conducted what turned out to be a very engaging interview (they’re ramp experts!), I registered that Mike and Jan are living proof that farming has truly entered a new realm of cache, one not seen since….when….Jeffersonian times? It was so nice to see with my own eyes that farmers are no longer treated like periphereal players even at the highest echelons of the culinary landscape.

It must be nice to go out to dinner in Manhattan when you’re Jan and Mike — they were treated like rock stars.  That standard will surely trickle down from here.

Is that a deer leg in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

Thursday, October 22nd, 2009

My husband came home from riding his motorcycle with a 25-pound leg of venison sticking out of his courier bag.

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It was already dressed and wrapped and ready for the freezer.

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The real puzzler is: What does one do with a LEG OF VENISON?  Maybe I’m looking at this wrong, but it doesn’t sound like good eating to me. I’d put it more in the road kill family.

That old chestnut

Thursday, September 24th, 2009

Sometimes I feel like my yard really is the Garden of Eden. Every time I turn around, there’s another plant or tree or shrub sprouting food I didn’t know was there.

The latest example: Chestnuts. We’ve lived here for a handful of years now, and only yesterday it dawned on us that we should probably harvest the nuts littering the ground beneath the two giant Chinese chestnut trees in our yard.

A chestnut peaks from its razor sharp, cactus-like shell. The shell HURTS!!!

A chestnut peaks from its razor sharp, cactus-like shell. The shell HURTS!!!

Luckily for my fingers, chestnuts seem to birth their way from their protective shells on their own....aided by nut-loving squirrels, of course.

Luckily for my fingers, chestnuts seem to birth their way from their protective shells on their own....aided by nut-loving squirrels, of course.

Last night's haul. I've never eaten chestnuts so I'm not exactly sure what to do with them. Any suggestions?

Last night's haul. I've never eaten chestnuts so I'm not exactly sure what to do with them. Any suggestions?

They taste, uh, nutty, but I notice the texture is a little more moist than nuts I'm used to eating. I wonder if I have to let them dry out for awhile first?

They taste, uh, nutty, but I notice the texture is a little more moist than nuts I'm used to eating. I wonder if I have to let them dry out for awhile first?

Say hello to the Aussie burger

Thursday, September 24th, 2009

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In honor of our Australian friend Paul, and my other Aussie friend Camilla, Jake and I have been wolfing Down Under-style burgers for the last two nights in a row.

From bottom to top, the ingredients in an Aussie burger are:

- Bun

- Hamburger pattie

- Fried egg  (our chickens aren’t laying yet so we had to use a smaller duck egg, which tastes more or less the same)

- Grilled pineapple ring

- Tomato

- Pickled beets

- A generous dollop of fiery sauce made from ketchup, mayo and Thai curry paste

- Bun

These things are SO FREAKIN’ DELICIOUS  I’m debating making them AGAIN tonight.

It’s like every meal of the day in one sitting.

Tomatillos: The “hot veggie” of summer 2010?

Thursday, August 27th, 2009

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I love tomatillos for four primary reasons:

Number one, it’s always  the last thing to be harvested in my spring/summer garden. These things like to take their sweet time growing. Sort of like the favorite friend who always shows up late to your party because she took so long getting ready?  But you like her so much you’re glad she showed up at all? That’s how I feel about tomatillos.

Number two, it’s the basis of all Mexican salsa verde, and I love salsa verde. I’m gearing up to can some this evening.

Number three, it’s one of the only vegetable plants I can think of — aside from asparagus and rhubarb — that is A PERENNIAL. You plant it once and it grows anew every year.  Can’t say the same for those blasted tomatoes!! Speaking of tomatoes….

Number four, they’re just as juicy (if not a little more tart) than tomatoes, so they could work as an acceptable substitute in many tomato-based dishes, considering the crazy tomato blight that wiped out my tomato crop this year!

So I wonder why more people don’t grow tomatillos?  I, for one, plan to triple my crop next year.

In fact, I’m calling it right now:  Because of the blight, watch tomatillos become “the hot veggie” of summer 2010…or heck, September 2009!  I can see the New York Times Food&Wine cover story now. You heard it here first.

Don’t be ascared

Saturday, August 22nd, 2009

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It’s just me holding a plate of deep fried Twinkies.

Deep fried Twinkies make me gleeful.  Very, very gleeful.

These were prepared by my 16-year old neighbor Brian, a preternaturally gifted young chef who comes from a long line of fabulous cooks from across the road. (Seriously, my neighbors the Watkins know cooking like Johnny Cash knew guitar chords.) He’s the kind of kid who already wins cooking competitions and is currently campaigning to become president of a national youth culinary association. Tom Colicchio will probably be bussing his tables one of these years.

Anyway, he come over last night during my intimate gathering of friends to indulge my request for lowbrow dessert: deep fried mini Mounds bars, 3 Musketeers and Snickers before showcasing his masterpiece, deep fried les Twinkies.

To deep fry desserts right, I was told to spear each treat on a skewer then freeze it that morning to prevent it from falling apart once it hits the hot oil (this also helps hold the skewer in place). I have also come to understand that superior deep frying depends upon a superior batter, and Brian’s is a (closely guarded?) Watkins family secret.

Sure enough, the Twinkie’s fried outer layer was light and crisp, and the cream-filled middle had melted into the outlying sponge cake, so each bite was crisp and creamy as opposed to merely cake-y.

They were so delicious I thought some of my guests required a moment of silence upon eating them.

The politics of toast

Sunday, July 19th, 2009
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Homemade bread and homemade strawberry-rhubarb jam tempered with chemical-rich JIFF peanut butter.

When I lived in New York, going out for Sunday brunch was part of the weekend routine. I usually ended up at either Petite Abeille in Chelsea or Le Pain Quotidien in Soho, both of which served excellent poached eggs and artisanal bread baskets to the upwardly mobile.

I don’t bother going out for brunch anymore. Because around here there’s nowhere to go except Country Kitchen, which serves buffet-style powdered eggs and Walmart bread to folks on their way to…Walmart.

Still, a gal likes to indulge on Sunday mornings. So this morning, I treated myself to two pieces of toast. I know what you’re thinking: Whoa! You go, girl! What’s next? A spoonful of Metamucil? Bear with me. The bread was homemade whole-wheat, lovingly baked by Jake. The jam was made from strawberries I picked myself and rhubarb given to me by my neighbor, “Buckmaster” Sam.

Now, this admission either makes you hungry…..or makes you want to hurl from the preciousness of it all.

As I sunk my teeth into the dense, berry-soused toast, it occurred to me that what I was putting into my mouth is exactly why people criticize the slow food/localism movement as a bastion of grand, organic-y fascism.  Eating this way is perceived as snotty and elitist, and not realistic for the average suburban-dwelling American.

Fair enough. But what’s the difference between making this stuff from scratch and paying for a similar artisanal experience at a restaurant like Le Petite Abeille? Aren’t they sorta one and the same? And does anyone—redneck or not—really like powdered eggs? Also, wasn’t making jam and bread yourself considered the norm, not the exception not so long ago?

As I looked at my breakfast, it occurred to me that I was…..psychoanalyzing toast.  I was becoming that douchebag who fetishizes food.  So I quickly slathered on some JIFF peanut butter.  To keep it real.


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