EllenFork

Summer Taste of Spain

When I arrived in Madrid for my Semester Abroad in late August of 2004, it was sizzlin' hot. I mean, fry an egg on the sidewalk hot. After hours of groggy, confused sleep on my international flight, I stepped out onto the blistering pavement of the Arrivals section at the hazy airport to meet my host mother, Maria Elena. She whisked my roommate and I off into the sprawling urban jungle of Madrid in the tiniest car I'd ever seen, all the while speaking to us in rapid-fire Spanish. We just smiled and nodded, sure that we would never, ever understand anything she said. We whirled through space and time, ending up in a beautiful residential neighborhood near Retiro Park. Now, don't judge, but I'm from Nashville where most people I knew lived in houses with at least a little bit of yard. I was not prepared for the tiny, apartment where I would be spending the next few months. Nor was I prepared for the lack of A/C! Maria Elena escorted us to our tiny quarters and threw open the window to let in some (hot) air. Home sweet home!

Above is the view from our window. We overlooked some kind of recreation facility, and sometimes my afternoon siesta was disturbed the the shouts of some bratty children at this cool looking pool. Jealous, much?

Lucky for me, Maria Elena was not of the ilk of host mothers who timed our showers, or forbade us entry to the kitchen. She was friendly and cute and fun- the smallest, blondest Spaniard I'd met to date, who loved to Flamenco dance and was constantly dieting. One of our first meals prepared by this gracious hostess was Gazpacho. First of all, it was wayyy to hot to fire up the deep fryer (Which she had! There is an amazing amount of fried food eaten in Spain!) and second of all, Gazpacho is "más sano", or healthy. At least three times a week (or more) we would sup upon the cool, refreshing liquid food, always accompanied by bread with salt and olive oil and a simple salad. Maria Elena's version was very simple: tomatoes, cucumber, garlic, olive oil (that her friend in Andalucia sent her by the barrel-full) and salt, whirred to liquid perfection in her crazy efficient blender. I think sometimes she added bread to give it more texture. Unlike the Gazpachos back home, there were no chunks, just a silky smooth concoction. I could eat it every day, forever, pretty much.

So, now that we're in the dog days of August here in exotic Norther Virginia, the tomatoes are plentiful and juicy. It's time for some gazpacho. So yesterday, as I perused the market in search of the right 'maters, I came upon a huge pile of fat, ripe yellow heirlooms, which may have been Lemon Boys (there was no sign). Bam. Fate had determined that my gazpacho would be a beautiful yellow variety. I decided to stay true to the simple nature of Maria Elena's Gazpacho, more or less, with the addition of some vinegar. This is also a traditional ingredient in Spanish Gazpacho, and I'm not sure why Maria Elena never used it. Anyway, I would fly back to Spain right now for a bowl of her version if I could. Hopefully you will enjoy my version, below!

 

Yellow Gazpacho

Ingredients:

• 3 lbs yellow tomatoes
• 3 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
• 1 seedless cucumber, peeled and chopped (reserve a little bit for garnish)
• 1/3 cup olive oil
• 4 tbsp sherry vinegar (sherry is typical, but I used Banyuls)
• 1 tsp salt (plus more to taste)
• Optional garnish: crumbled pancetta or bacon, slice of fresh mozzarella

First, bring a pot of water to boil. Blanch the tomatoes in the boiling water for 30 seconds or so, to loosen their skins. Cool them in some ice water, then slip off their skins with your fingers (this should be really easy, if it's hard they might need a bit more time in the water). Core and then coarsely chop the tomatoes, making sure to reserve any juice.

Peel the cucumber and reserve enough for a few slices, for garnish. Coarsley chop the rest of the cucumber.

Throw all the tomatoes, cucumber, garlic, olive oil, vinegar and salt into the blender and set to "LIQUIFY"!!! Make sure you yell that when you hit the button, too. Taste it. Add more salt, garlic, vinegar, whatever, until it tastes just the way you like it. I like to be able to discern the vinegar a bit, without a whole lot of salt and with a little garlicky bite. It's hard to mess this up, guys.

At this point, some people would strain the soup, but the tomatoes I used were meaty and juicy, with few seeds so I didn't find it necessary. If your soup is too thick, add some ice water. Chill until ice cold!

When cold, ladle into bowls and add garnish, if you like. For the garnish, I decided to add a little American twist: bacon. I crumbled a bit of bacon over a slice of cucumber and a slice of mozzerella and added it to the soup... it sank to the bottom immediately. Instead, I recommend crumbling a bit of the bacon in the center of the bowl, and adding the mozz/cucumber slice on the side, kind of like a lime on the side of your G&T. Whatever, it's your soup.

Lastly, enjoy! And, imagine yourself at a sidewalk café in Madrid, eating soup and drinking Rioja... or at Maria Elena's kitchen table, talking about the Special K diet and teaching her kids dirty words in English. Your choice.

Salud!

This Pudding Has Nothing to Do with Bill Cosby.

Hi guys. Yeah, it's me. I've come crawling back to you. But I have a little something for you, something that will hopefully distract you from the fact that my last post was monthssss ago...

Since we are now in the throes of summer, tomatoes are both plentiful and ENORMOUS. On a recent visit home, my mother presented me with some incredible looking heirloom 'maters from the Amish. I'm not completely sure where these Amish live in relation to Nashville, but these tomatoes look like they came from the Land of the Lost, seriously. Anyway, when I caught sight of these monstrous beauties, I knew something had to be done. They had to be sliced into a million pieces and consumed, immediately.

Now, you don't need to get all crazy and fancy with tomatoes like these; their natural tastiness should be able to shine through without a lot of extra flavors. Naturally I turned to Judy Rodgers' Zuni Café Cookbook for a recipe that would do these fruits justice (yeah, tomatoes are FRUITS and don't you forget it). And since I was taking this dish to a potluck at a farm (which I wrote about here), I needed it to be as seasonal and fresh as possible, something for which Ms. Rodgers is renowned. The following recipe brings out the freshness of the tomatoes with a delicious acidic vinaigrette and the most pungent, summery scent of all- tons of fresh basil. And, this dish requires NO HOT OVENS!!! So, run out to your farmer's market RIGHT NOW and get some big, ugly ol' heirloom tomatoes! 

Tomato Summer Pudding   from Zuni Café Cookbook by Judy Rodgers

Yields about 6 servings

Ingredients:

• About 8 ounces day-old, peasant style bread (I used about half a baguette), sliced 1/4 thick
• A few cloves of garlic, peeled
• Extra-virgin olive oil (for vinaigrette, so use as much as you think is needed)
• 3 tablespoons red wine vinegar or sherry vinegar (I used red wine)
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper
• About 2 1/2 lbs very ripe tomatoes, preferably a few different varieties of heirlooms (I used purple cherokees and a big yellow one whose name I do not know)
• About 1/4 cup fresh basil, parsley or cilantro leaves, very coarsely chopped (obviously I used basil, WHY WOULD YOU USE PARSLEY IN THIS RECIPE?!!??!)
• 1 medium shallot finely diced, or a scant 1/4 cup thinly sliced red onion (I used shallot)
• 1/2 small cucumber, peeled and diced
• 1 cup Sweet 100, Sungold, or currant tomatoes, to garnish (I skipped this, but if I'd had a really pretty branch of these lil guys, I might've included it)

Preheat the broiler. Crisp and brown the bread lightly on one side. Rub the crispy side with the raw garlic, then brush the soft side with water. Stack bread and place in plastic bag to steam and soften.

Combine olive oil, vinegar and salt and pepper to taste, to make a mild vinaigrette.

Core the tomatoes. Cut in half from stem to blossom end, then slice crosswise into slices about 1/4 inches thick. I did this on a plate, rather than the cutting board, in order to capture all the juice. The juice is added to the vinaigrette. Pick out the shoulders and bottoms of the tomatoes and coarsely chop them. Salt lightly and scrape into a strainer. Set this over the vinaigrette, smash ad press the tomato bits with a spoon and leave to drain.

Build the pudding in a soufflé dish, wide bowl, gratin dish, or other comparable vessel that can hold about 1-1/2 quarts and is at least 3 inches deep.  Rub the entire dish with raw garlic. Then, cutting the bread into appropriate shapes, carpet the bottom of the dish with the bread. Try not to overlap the bread, or leave big gaps. Then make a solid double layer of tomatoes. Scatter with a little of the shallot (or red onion) and cucumber and herb.  Whisk, then drizzle a few tablespoons of vi over entire thing. Add another layer of bread and press with a spoon to encourage the tomatoes to release their precious juices. Repeat this a few more times, ending with a top layer of tomatoes. Save leftover vinaigrette for garnish. Poke pudding a few times randomly with a skewer, to allow juices to mingle throughout.

Now cover with plastic wrap and find a flat-bottomed dish that will fit just inside the pudding dish. Place on top and press down, weighting it with something heavy from the kitchen (can of tomatoes? brick?). Set this aside at room temp for an hour or so.

After the hour has passed, Judy recommends checking to see if the pudding is juicy enough, but sliding a knife down the side of the dish and prying the pudding away from the side. If it oozes, its juicy enough. I had absolutely no problem with this pudding being juicy enough, due to the nature of the tomatoes and my liberal drizzling of vinaigrette. Make sure you taste the juice of the pudding, so that you can adjust if it is too oily or acidic. Rewrap and press until ready to serve.

I topped my pudding with more shallot/cuke/basil, because I had some leftover and because it's beautiful in contrast with the color of the tomatoes. This pudding is SO GOOD. It IS summertime, in your mouth. And, at the end of the night, there was absolutely NOTHING LEFT. I left the farm (read about that potluck here) with a dirty dish and a smile.

'

Weird, Wild Food: Fiddleheads

See those things in that picture up there? They're not alien tentacles, if that's what you're thinking. In fact they are plant matter: Fiddlehead Ferns. They are baby ferns that have not yet unfurled their little leaves. I remember first seeing them in my grandmother's wildflower garden in the front of her house. She took me out there and showed them to me, nestled amongst the other native foliage, curled up like little snails.

I was probably about 5 years old, but I remember thinking how funny and wild they were, these little plants that looked like animals growing out of the soil. Most of my memories of my grandmother revolve around her growing and nurturing things, myself included. She grew sunflowers and jack-in-the-pulpit, all kinds of herbs, a raspberry patch and wild Tennessee flowers. She and my grandpa had a huge garden in the 2 acres behind their house, where they grew anything you could think of- potatoes, tomatoes, corn, cabbage, lettuce, lima beans, squash everything. Some of my earliest memories are of running through the rows with cornstalks towering above me, kicking thick clumps of  dirt and staring into the blue sky, framed with green leaves and the silky tops of the corn. When I think of my grandmother I think of the earth, of the heady feeling of watching something grow from the soil and knowing that there are many secrets hiding within.

Now I'm older, but still looking for secrets. There are so many wild and wonderful things out there! One of them being these out-of-this-world looking ferns in the picture above. I picked up these little monsters from Far West Fungi, located in the Ferry Building in San Francisco. The friendly woman behind the counter there gave me an ice pack and wrapped them up nicely for their trip back to DC. Although I tossed the ice pack before airport security (and no one asked me any questions about the suspicious plants in my purse) they braved the trip from Cali unscathed. Unfortunately for them, their luck had run out and they were promptly submersed in boiling water upon arrival.

The recipe below is adapted from one of Emeril's recipes- he is from New England where fiddleheads are plentiful. I added extra truff oil, because let's be real here... THE MORE TRUFFLES THE BETTER. But even with all the truffles in the world, you still might not totally love fiddlehead ferns. That's right, they're cool, but they also taste kind of like grass. They definitely taste like they came from some rich, loamy soil in the woods somewhere. And just so you know, make sure that you cook them thoroughly. Apparently they are somewhat toxic when raw and can cause stomach pain. So, yeah. That being said, if you find some ferns, give them a try at least once- they appear for a limited time only each year.

Fiddlehead Ferns and Truffle Pasta

Ingredients:

• 1 lb Fiddlehead Ferns, trimmed and washed
• 1 lb angel hair pasta
• 2 green onions
• 2 tbsp olive oil
• t tsp red pepper flakes
• 2 tbsp black truffle oil
• salt, pepper to taste
• grated parmesan to taste

Directions:

Fill a pot with salted water and bring to a boil. Prepare a bowl of ice water.

Wash the fiddlhead ferns and trim their ends. They are kind of like asparagus- their ends get a bit dry and woody after a while.When the water is boiling, drop in fiddlehead ferns and blanch for about 4-5 minutes. Make sure they are crisp-tender but cooked through. Using a slotted spoon, transfer ferns from boiling water to ice water.

Add angel hair pasta to the same pot, and cook until tender, about 10 min (or follow package directions).
Chop the green onions. In a large skillet, heat 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Drain and add ferns and onions to skillet. Add red pepper flakes and saute for about 2 minutes.

Drain pasta and add directly to skillet. Toss with truffle oil, salt and pepper. Serve in bowls and top with freshly grated parm.

EAT IT.

Green Beans Fit for a Queen

A few months ago, I submitted five of my favorite local foods to a DC blogger, Metrocurean. She does a post every Friday, called Five Bites on Friday featuring readers' picks from area restaurants and purveyors of fine foods. You can read the original post at this link. Annnnyway, one of my favorite things are the Marcona Almond Green Beans at Bar Pilar. I love a lot of things on their menu, but there is something so surprising, so incredibly savory and delicious about biting into one of these green beans. They have lots of delectable little plates (tapas) of both the vegetable and protein persuasion. To a carnivore like me, it is really saying something when I tell you that these green beans are as satisfying as something meaty. One of the things that stands out at this tiny, often crowded restaurant is the simplicity and quality of the ingredients that go into each dish.

Anyhow. This dish was at the top of my list, and soon after the post was posted I received an email from the chef at Bar Pilar, Justin Bittner. This is one of my favorite things about blogging guys! I was very excited that a) Mr. Bittner was glad to hear someone out there loves his green beans (which I'm sure he's already aware of, duh) and b) that he sent me the recipe as a result! It appears he typed and sent this recipe via iPhone, which in and of itself takes some patience and dedication. I promised that I would make the recipe, and well, here we are. You, reading this blog and me, with a big plate of green beans. Life just isn't always fair, y'all.

So, thank you Justin for the recipe! If any of you are in the Washington, DC area, you should make a stop by Bar Pilar on 14th st NW. You won't be disappointed. Now, without further ado: the recipe. 

 

Photo credits: these were randomly sprinkled throughout google image search- if these are your pictures, let me know and I will credit you!

Bar Pilar Green Beans

Firstly, Bar Pilar uses fresh green beans from Tuscarora Organic Farms. You can get your beans from your favorite produce aisle or farmer's market. I'm going to warn you that this recipe is not exact, but not to worry. You'll get it, I'm sure.

Collect as many beans as you are capable of eating, snap the ends off. Fill a large pot (3 gallons maybe) with water and add kosher salt until it is "as salty as the ocean". Chef Bittner says that a lot of water helps cook the beans faster, keeping them greener, while the salt changes the temp at which the water boils (which I think helps cook them faster, keeping them crisper and greener as well). 

Prepare a bowl of ice water for dunking the beans.

Bring water to a rolling boil. Add beans to the pot by the handful. When they change color slightly, pull them out and dunk them in the ice water. Repeat until you are out of beans. Dry on towels after they cool.

Heat a skillet with a couple tablespoons of whole butter (I used Plugra) until the butter foams. Add beans and season with salt and pepper. When they brown slightly, add some chopped shallots, thyme, oregano and marcona almonds. Adjust seasoning, transfer to a plate. Sprinkle with fresh lemon juice and finish with a sprinkling of sea salt.

While I clearly do not possess the skills of Chef Bittner, I think my beans turned out pretty well...and they were gone almost immediately. But next time I get the craving, I think I'll head over to Bar Pilar to get my fix... along with a dozen other tasty morsels and some more fancy cocktails.

Salud!

A Fresh Haul (and a Happy Salad)

Yesterday I woke up in a world covered with a dusting of snow and the promise of more (lots more!) to come. And yet, despite the chill and the barren view of leafless trees and grey skies from the window, I decided it was a farmer's market kind of morning. Well, I think every morning is a farmer's market morning but only on Sunday am I allowed the privilege of going.

So I bundled up and set off towards Dupont Circle. There was a cheerful hustle and bustle as market-goers rifled through bins of beets, turnips, apples and winter greens. The mushroom lady was there in her a cave of a tent filled with mysterious fungi. The flower sellers were there with big buckets of lilies with unopened buds, and Ranunculus, which look like wild, romantic peonies. The smell of mulled cider wafted through the crowd. The folks from Eco-Friendly were there, smiling in the cold and gently explaining the benefits of humanely raised, organic meats to customers. I love Eco-Friendly Foods for their truly friendly attitudes and their incredibly tasty meats. Every visit yields some great meat, good cooking suggestions and a feeling of satisfaction.

I usually do not approach this booth with a recipe in mind, instead I choose based on the cuts available. I've ended up with many varieties of sausage, spare ribs, beef shanks osso-bucco style, pork loin and other treats. Once I've chosen something, I fill in the gaps from the vegetable stands.

On yesterday's trip, I was filling in the gaps around a duck breast procured earlier from The Organic Butcher of Mclean, an adorable little spot in Mclean, Va. In the end I left the market with fresh brown eggs, french breakfast radishes, half a loaf of Spelt, sweet potatoes, erba stella, pork sausages, and half a young chicken, frozen, not to mention the empanada and cider my young man and I consumed while walking around. Not a bad haul, but in the end not the gap fillers I meant to snag.

Sunday dinner ended up being duck breast and salad. Saving the duck breast for later, I'd like to share this easy salad and dressing with you. I borrowed  from this Food + Wine recipe. I changed a few things based on the contents of my pantry, and the fact that I looooove frisée, that bitter, thorny looking cousin of Endive.

Frisée Salad with Garlic-Anchovy Dressing

3-4 big handfuls of Frisée (I made this for two people, but you know how much lettuce you need)
6 French Breakfast Radishes, sliced
2 Ribs celery, chopped
1/2 Seedless cucumber, cut lengthwise then sliced

Toss all veggies together in a bowl.

Dressing:
4-5 Anchovy fillets, minced
1/4 good olive oil
3-4 cloves garlic, minced
1 1/2 tbsp lemon juice
Freshly ground pepper, to taste

In a saucepan, combine oil, anchovies and garlic over moderate to low heat. Stir occasionally until the garlic is golden brown, making sure not to burn it. Add lemon juice and pepper and pour over the vegetables. Serve immediately.

The nutty, salty flavor of the anchovies mixes in so nicely with the spiciness of the garlic, creating a complex flavor. The lemon adds a little bit of bite. And combined with the crunchiness of the vegetables, it ends up being a very light and flavorful salad. It got rave reviews from my dining companion, who gobbled it all up and asked for more. This might be my new favorite salad...and yours, too!