Greetings from Hawaii

Just kidding! 

We're stuck at home, as is most everyone right now. So instead of whining about Hawaii, I've been working on a Hawaiian style New Year's Eve dinner. 

The idea, and essential, inspirational ingredient came from Sunnie, one of my ceramic class buddies. She was the one who introduced me to custard mochi, a delicious dessert found in Hawaii. The first time I had it, I wanted to embarrass myself by eating the entire thing (or rather, I wanted to eat the entire thing and not get embarrassed), but somehow managed to only have seconds. And maybe one tiny little slice more.

Trouble is, you can't make custard mochi without sweet rice flour. Now try finding that during a pandemic. Sunnie did, and gave me a box. Thank you, Sunnie!

What else is on the menu? 

Rum punch

Spare ribs with huli-huli sauce

Ginger carrots

Green beans braised in coconut milk (I absolutely love coconut milk. I would probably eat braised dirt if it were simmered in coconut milk.)

Rice, naturally, followed by

Custard mochi for dessert.

And finished off with a very slow waddle around the neighborhood. 

Happy New Year to All!

When Life Gives You...

Yes, we do have a lemon tree, so we know what to do about that. But what about all the other stuff that is bursting out of the garden?

Tromboncino Squash & Blossoms

 
The cucumbers? Well, since I planted them for the neighbors and my best guy (although my best guy is out of town this week, so he's no help), I can give many of them away.

The zucchini? Ask first. Apparently it is not politic to drop off zucchini on someone else's front porch without warning. But when I have asked, pretty much everyone has accepted.

And those overlooked items, such as squash blossoms? A delicious luxury, if you are willing to put in the work to turn them into food. Not likely, knowing my neighbors.

So, I have been experimenting with stuffing them with ricotta and tarragon pesto. I don't fry them, but dipping in egg, rolling in bread crumbs and baking at 400° for 10 minutes turns them into a very tasty dinner. As is giving them a rough chop and adding them to nearly-set scrambled eggs (like I said, my best guy is out of town). And tomorrow I will simply let the bees have their way with them.

Luckily, the lemons are still green.

One Plastic Tub at a Time

It's not that we eat that much yogurt. And although the containers are really quite useful, it does add up.

For example, rather than buy plastic food storage containers, I use the spare yogurt, cottage cheese, etc. containers for leftovers. But it still adds up.

Yes, they are recyclable, but these days, it's getting harder and harder to find plastic recyclers, so actually, more than just my containers are adding up. And big time.

So now we're going back to our hippy-dippy roots and, once again, making our own yogurt. Easy to do, lots of recipes and instructions out there, so just hunt around. I do have a few tips, though, to help simplify the process:


If possible, use a stainless steel pot - much easier to clean out.

Don't make giant batches of yogurt unless you use a lot. Somehow mold likes homemade yogurt better than store-bought stuff (even the "no-preservatives added" kind. Funny.) and it really doesn't freeze well, no matter what people say.

A thermometer helps. I didn't buy anything special but simply use my meat thermometer.

Forget the ice bath, sink full of cold water, etc.. Just a waste of water. It takes around a half-hour or so for the hot milk to cool down sufficiently (110 - 115 degrees). So set the timer and go do something else. Something fun. And if it cools down too much, simply re-heat the milk.

Use a glass (not plastic, right?) container just for your yogurt. Also, it's far easier (and cleaner) to transfer milk to the glass jar than it is to leave the yogurt in the pot and do the transfer later. Besides glass holds in the heat better.

Swaddle that baby in a couple of kitchen towels (I very carefully warm up the towels in the microwave for 30 - 60 seconds first) and then place in that warm place. I use my stovetop - it has a pilot light - but spending time in the oven with either the pilot light or light on also works fine.

Swaddled Yogurt Jar

Glass Quart Jar of Yogurt

Each time you make yogurt, you can save some and use it for the next batch. Eventually though, you will probably discover that the newest batch just doesn't thicken quite as well. I guess we all get old and tired.

So ultimately, you will have to go and purchase some new yogurt to start the process again. But in the meanwhile, think of all those plastic containers that are not your responsibility.

There seem to be a number of techniques for making yogurt from non-dairy sources. I have not tried any of them, but I think my tips still apply. Or I could be wrong; it's happened before.

Onward to the cottage cheese containers...

California's Five Seasons

There is an old joke about the four seasons in California - earthquake, fire, drought and flood - although I always thought it was "mudslide" rather than flood. I propose a fifth season, a far more positive season: Roasted San Marzano* Tomato Season. It is a short season, lasting only a little more than a month, but the sights, scents and flavors are unbeatable. 

Ready for the Oven

Simply pick your tomatoes, wash and halve them. Cover the bottom of a roasting pan with olive oil (rosemary-infused oil is wonderful) and arrange the tomato halves. Add salt and pepper to taste, drizzle some more oil around and bake at 300° for about one hour. Eat with gusto and a friend. Or two. But not too many more, or you may not have enough. Leftovers (as if!) are great with pasta, in an omelette or just as they are.

Now I am very aware that all roasted tomatoes make for great eating, regardless of the variety, but the San Marzanos are simply the best. Somehow, they do not stay tomatoes, but are magically transformed into tomato candy.

*Yes, I know that not all San Marzanos are actual San Marzanos, but short of moving to southern Italy, the closest that I can come to the real thing is to grow them from seed, with the seed coming from Italy.

When the Chips are Down, Try Carrots

Kale chips, mustard chips, turnip top chips, carrot chips, sweet potato chips - this year, we tried 'em all. And all of them were pretty darn good. But which vegetable stood out from the crowd? According to the song, it's the cheese that stands alone. But in my chip world, it's the carrots.

I grew carrots this year, but they were too puny to easily turn into chips. Tasty, but pretty punk. To do chips properly, it's best to have those thick and stocky ones: the ones that under most circumstance, you avoid.

Recipes abound on the web, but here is pretty close to what I remember actually doing:

Preheat oven to 425°

Ingredients:
o   2-3 large, fat carrots, peeled
o   1-2 tsp. olive oil
o   salt and freshly ground pepper to taste
o   small pinch of cumin (optional)

Shave the carrots lengthwise in strips with vegetable peeler (I use an OXO Swivel Peeler; some recommend a Y-shaped peeler). Press fairly hard so that the strips of carrot are thicker than regular old peelings. It's a little awkward, but this is the hardest part, beyond sharing the chips with others.

Save the down-to-the-nub ends of the carrots for another cooking project.

Place the carrot strips in a bowl, drizzle with olive oil, add salt and pepper (and cumin). Gently toss with your hands until completely coated.

Put the carrot strips on an oiled baking sheet in a single layer. The strips can be touching, but not overlapping. They will shrink a lot, especially width-wise.

Bake for 12 minutes and then check. The carrots will probably need another 5 minutes in the oven, but you do not want them to get too brown. The edges of the chips should be a golden brown when they are ready to be removed.

Remove the baking sheet from the oven and place on a wire rack to cool. Do not try to move the chips from the baking sheet until they are crisp - 5 minutes or so.  Transfer to a tall glass and serve.

This makes enough carrot chips to fill two baking sheets and feed about six polite people or 2 very hungry ones. I suppose you can store them in an airtight container, but I have never seen any left over.

My Aunt Bess

Aunt Bess (right) with her sister (Aunt) Kate

Everyone has an Aunt Bess. Or should have one. Or at the very least, an Aunt Maude. You know, the one from whom you inherit things. Cool things usually, but not things that you really know quite what to do with.

Well, my Aunt Bess left a recipe for homemade mustard which is hard to beat. My dad loved it. Even as a kid, I loved it. And now that it is the season for salmon with mustard sauce, or crab with mustard-mayonnaise dressing, or even roast beef with mustard-horseradish sauce, it's time to share her wisdom with a wider audience.

I looked up my copy of the recipe but somehow I was doubtful that a mustard recipe would call for flour, so I double-checked with my mom. Turns out I was wrong: many mustard recipes - especially those including beer - call for either flour or cornstarch.

This annotated version comes directly from Aunt Bess, via my mom:

Aunt Bess's Mustard (original recipe from Bess)

6 level Tbs Coleman's dry mustard
6 level Tbs flour
6 level Tbs sugar
6 Tbs herb vinegar* (about)
1 level tsp turmeric
1 tsp dry mixed herbs

Mix dry ingredients together and add herb vinegar. You may need a little more. Place in jar and refrigerate overnight to blend. Keeps forever in fridge.

Herb vinegar:

1 quart white vinegar
1 tsp dry mixed herbs

Heat to boiling and allow to cool. One whole clove garlic may be put in also if desired.

If I remember correctly, she did not use Italian seasoning herbs - more like French herbs - tarragon, parsley, etc. types. I used plain white vinegar once without the herbs and boiling, etc. and it wasn't nearly as good. Likewise, only Coleman's mustard has the right flavor.

Enjoy. And Happy New Year!

Sugar Snap Peas Forever

We had a lot a sugar peas this year. I am not complaining, but over the course of two months or so, we had peas most every night for dinner. Sauteed with sweet red pepper. Mixed with fava beans and drizzled with olive oil. Peas with carrots. Peas with peas.

Like I said, no complaints, but at a certain point, something different had to be done. So I froze some, and then turned another bunch into Pickled Sugar Snap Peas. Good recipe, which comes from The Joy of Pickling by Linda Ziedrich. It doesn't involve canning. In fact, you don't even have to blanch the snap peas.

Everyone who tried them, liked them. A lot. And there were quite a few "everyones." (My best guy didn't try them because he doesn't really like those pickle-y things.)

I really like pickles but, for me, these were a bit too vinegary. Kinda like taking that first sip of a gin and tonic and unexpectedly inhaling all the gin upfront. Only this time, it's not gin, but vinegar. Granted, it's also flavored with peas, hot pepper and garlic, but a little strong, nonetheless.

The brine from the snap pea pickles has been very useful for salad dressings and marinades. Next season, however, I will experiment with a bit more sugar, a little less garlic and perhaps a piece of star anise. Then I will try and coax my best guy to give them peas a chance. After first plying him with a coupla of gin and tonics, of course.

Thank you Ms. Linda, for the great idea and the great way to store up some of those delicious peas. I will be adding your book to my shelf.

Kitchen Basics #1: Brown Sugar, Baby

It started out with an "Oops, I forgot," as well as an on-going effort to bring home fewer plastic bags. Once upon a time, it wouldn't have mattered, because brown sugar came in a paper box. Now it's a plastic bag.

In this house we use cane sugar. According to the SF Chronicle, cane sugar and sugar from sugar beets do not perform the same way, especially in baking.

White sugar still comes wrapped in paper, only - surprise! - in a Four pound package, not the once-upon-a-time standard of five. Apparently, the price of sugar has increased significantly since 2008, so we now get less while paying more.

(We also eat a ton more sugar these days. Well, maybe not a ton, but estimates are that Americans now consume anywhere from 70-140 lbs. of sugar each year, as compared to 5-10 lbs. or so, 150 years ago. I'm sure, though, that back then they pigged out on honey, molasses and rum instead.)

Before Mixing

But we were out of brown sugar, a necessary ingredient for the homemade granola that is served here almost every morning (hell is a place where granola is served every morning, no exceptions...). So, since it was my "oops," I had to make some:

       Brown Sugar

* One cup white sugar

* Two Tablespoons Molasses (for dark brown sugar)

Place both ingredients in a bowl and mix with a fork. It should take about 4 minutes - faster than a trip to the grocery store. Yeah, I know, it looks pretty unpromising to start, but trust me on this one, it really does work.

And because I am a fiend for vanilla, I store my sugar in a container with one vanilla bean tucked inside, a nice touch I learned from Patricia Wells' Bistro Cooking.

Ready to Use

Jill and the Romanesco Stalk

February 23rd

It happened last year - I was given a packet of seeds for my birthday from a stranger. I didn't even have to give up the old family cow in exchange. But still, the kid with the beanstalk probably got the better deal.

Nonetheless, I was pretty excited. Romanesco broccoli. I had been looking for these babies for a while (even in Italy, in fact, when I had to be consoled with puntarelle and radicchio seeds instead).

Romanesco is a variant form of broccoli, or cauliflower, depending on who you ask. (Most people you ask probably won't even know what you are talking about, but then most people don't eat their broccoli, either.) Those who know, though, know that it can be rather fussy about growing. Which is why it is difficult to find at the market and costly when you do.

March 3rd

(Years ago, inspired by the most perfectly-formed romanesco - a bridal bouquet of a broccoli - I asked the kind cashier at Monterey Market if she would marry me. It's not as if I really wanted to get hitched; somehow I just lost my head. She almost fell over, but wisely turned me down. We've continued just as friends.)

Right, then. I planted the seeds this past summer for a fall planting - the preferred time - and nobody showed up.  So I replanted, replanted and finally got two seedlings. One didn't amount to poo-poo, and the second one wasn't going anywhere fast until it got a load of full-strength horse manure dumped on its head.

March 10th

And then we got somewhere. What started out as a small inch-wide bud expanded to the size of a softball. Every day I had to go observe its progress. I was in love again. I was boring my neighbors. Harvesting was easy and the roasted cauliflower recipe from Epicurious was great. Just be prepared for major shrinkage. Or maybe my people actually do eat their broccoli?

I can't say that I will be growing romanesco again anytime soon. But even without the giants, the golden eggs and the bag of gold, I got a fairy tale's worth of entertainment.

March 16th
In the roasting pan