A Short Way to Tipperary

Posted on November 11, 2012 by marigold

Southwest Ireland (in green)

Because we didn’t want to drive on the left and thought a guide would help us make the most of our time in southwest Ireland, we joined Wolfhound Adventure Tours. Turns out that even for us, who always go it alone, this was a brilliant move, or, as the Irish would say, full of craic (pronounced “crack), meaning fun. The other ten Wolfhounders were great and Dave O’Connor, the man who runs the organization, is funny, incredibly smart, good at adapting to weather (although ours was terrific), spotting wildlife, discussing Irish history and myth, o playing exactly the right music at every turn, adjusting bikes and generally insuring that everyone with him has a wonderful time. Dave and the overall Wolfhound experience get an A+.

The Wolfmobile


In the Wolfmobile, a Mercedes van with an attached trailer for bikes, we first stopped at the Rock of Dunamase, the ruins of a grand (how Irish!) castle dating to medieval times. From there we moved onto the Rock of Cashel in Tipperary (cue song),

Rock of Cashel

supposedly the site of the conversion of King Munster in the 5th century.  We next drove to Hore Abbey that dates from 1266 and is overlooked by the Rock of Cashel.  At each spot we had plenty of time to wander over and around the rocks ruins and admire the scenery.

 

Ultimately, we found ourselves at Cahir Castle, a castle like those in fairy tales and once the stronghold of the Butler family, source of a great factoid:  the right of butleredge. This honor meant being the one who poured the first glass of wine for a newly crowned king.  Being the king’s butler translated into rolling in money. Next time you meet a Butler, see where he or she stands in the 1%. The Cahir portcullis still works so the noise has been incorporated in many films.

Portcullis at Cahir Castle

 

 

Another nifty Cahir feature: the machicolation, an opening above an entrance way, useful for dropping hot oil, sand or other nasty substances onto the enemy. The word derives from the Old French machecol, that comes indirectly from the Old French macher ‘crush’ and col ‘neck.’ I’m sure you’ll find many ways to incorporate this into your daily conversation.

 

Early in the trip we had our first taste of Guinness. At home I never drink beer but, citing Dave, the “tall and creamy pint “does indeed go down smoothly. Many more pints followed.  At one overnight our breakfast was spelt pancakes but more often we were offered (and gobbled down) what is known as ‘full Irish’ which includes most or all of the following: bacon,  sausage; black and white pudding—both other kinds of sausage;  eggs; baked beans and grilled tomato, the whole usually served with various breads including Irish soda bread. Fortunately, Wolfhound Adventures includes plenty of hiking, biking and other outdoor activities or the carb factor would be a killer.

 

Full Irish breakfast- the round items are the white and black puddings

 

 

 

 

 

 

This recipe is for an Irish stew with Guinness. During the trip, we ate a lot of stew and enjoyed every bite.

Beef and Guinness Stew

2 pounds stewing beef

3 tablespoons oil (canola or other neutral oil)

2 tablespoons flour

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Pinch of cayenne

2 large onions, coarsely chopped

1 garlic clove, crushed

2 tablespoons tomato puree, mixed with 4 tablespoons water

1 1/4 cups Guinness (in the US it comes in tall cans)

2 cups carrots cut into large dice

Sprig of fresh thyme (or use about ¼  tsp dried)

Chopped parsley for garnish

Directions

Cut beef 2-inch cubes and toss with 1 tablespoon of the oil. In a small bowl, season the flour with salt, pepper and cayenne. Toss meat with seasoned flour. Heat remaining 2 tablespoons oil in a large skillet over high heat.

Brown the meat on all sides. Reduce the heat, add the onions, garlic and tomato puree mix, cover and cook over low heat for 5 minutes.

Transfer the contents of the skillet to a casseroleand pour half of the Guinness into the skillet. Bring Guinness to a boil and stir to dissolve the caramelized meat juices on the pan. Pour over the meat, along with the remaining Guinness. Add the carrots and thyme. Stir and adjust seasonings. Cover the casserole and  simmer over low heat or in a 300 degree oven (my preferred method) until the meat is tender, 2 to 3 hours.

Check again for seasoning. Garnish with chopped parsley and serve. I’d drink a good red wine with this although the Irish would stick to beer.

Slainte
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In Dublin’s Fair City…

Posted on October 30, 2012 by marigold

Mythical Molly Malone, referred to as “The Trollop with a Scallop” and “The Tart with a Cart

A lot of the people you meet aren’t Irish.  Many tourists and a lot of the staff at the very nice Brooks Hotel come from elsewhere, in fact, a bartender told me that the second largest concentration of Polish people after Poland is Ireland—post-Celtic Tiger.

The Book of Kells resides at the Library of Trinity College.  I bought the small MP3  wanna-be accoustaguide that is a bit of a challenge and consistently had me standing in the wrong place.  The Book itself is written on vellum (calfskin), bound in four volumes and the pages on display are changed regularly. I saw one decorated page and two of script and enjoyed the exhibit that explains  how the Book was created, monks’ marginal comments like “It’s cold in here”, how the pigments were obtained and so forth. Then came the real treat: the Long Room of the Old Library that stores 200,000 of the University’s oldest books. The vaulted ceiling replaced the original, flat one in the 1850s when the University had to make more space to house volumes.  Around the perimeter of the room are  busts of men (but of course) including greats like Shakespeare and Jonathan Swift as well as many I’d never heard of.  A case holds what is said to be the oldest Irish harp in existence, dating from the 15th century.

 

At the Abbey Theater we saw a contemporary take on Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray that had received raves although the man playing Gray left both of us cold. Fabulous costumes though and wonderful photos of Abbey greats on the walls to be observed at “the interval” when people race for drinks and coffee as if their lives depended on it.

Oscar Wilde, fop extraordinaire

 

One of our most memorable dinners was at The Winding Stair above a bookshop of the same name. The stair does indeed wind and the food is fabulous as is the view of the River Liffy right below. My appetizer was breast of wood pigeon served with beet cubes, hazelnuts and peas shoots drizzled with an Irish balsamic reduction. The sea bream that followed included roasted celeriac –celery root on our side of the pond. The waiters wear jeans, ties and aprons with red, green or blue stripes and are very professional. The chef knows his stuff.

It appears that roasting celeriac is just like roasting other veggies, per my fave Mark Bittman. He calls it “Baked” but that’s just another way of saying “roast.” All you need (besides love) is:

Celeriac –ask at a good veg market. See how big it is and figure number of servings from there. You may need four or five depending on how many you’re feeding.

A raw celeriac all lumpy-bumpy

Olive oil

Coarse salt

 

Heat oven to 350.

Thoroughly wash whole celeriac and pat dry; brush the outside with olive oil, sprinkle liberally with coarse salt and bake for 1 to 2 hours (longer is usually better) until the outside is roasted and evenly crisp and the inside is tender.   (Personally I’d peel it to get the uneven spots off)

Remove from the oven, cut up if you like (you can also sprinkle with more oil and salt) and serve. ( If you didn’t peel you can eat the skin.)

Roasted Celeriac –yum

 

I’d serve this with lamb to stay in the Irish mode but it would also be terrific with a Thanksgiving turkey assuming you make enough.

 

Sláinte!    (this is Gaelic for “cheers” or “health” and pronounced slahn-CHA—after 11 days I still had trouble getting it right.)

 

 

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Let’s Do Lunch

Posted on October 18, 2012 by marigold

In the 1920s,  New York City housewives bought nuts from peanut vendors,  chopped them into a rough form of peanut butter and rendered the stuff spreadable with condensed milk or chili sauce. (My mother, nobody’s fool but someone whose idea of fixing dinner was “making” chicken salad by tossing pre-cut chicken with mayonnaise,) used to combine peanut butter with chili sauce and pile the result on a Ritz cracker for a quick hors d’oeuvre. Not sure if this makes her ahead of or behind her time.)

There is a lot to chew on at Lunch Hour NYC, the fun and very enlightening exhibition that chronicles 150 years of lunch history in the Big Apple, on view at the main branch of the New York Public Library until mid-February. The exhibit deals with many aspects of lunch including lunch at home, the power lunch, charitable lunch, quick lunch and the ethnic contributions to what, today, can be considered lunch.  Among the factoids:

  • Salad is a thing of the early 1900s when the first dieting craze hit.
  • The first Horn and Hardart Automat opened July 2, 1912 in Times Square.  Anyone remember how exciting it was to put money in and watch the little door spring open with your selection ready and waiting?

 

  • In the 1820s, oysters cost $.06 for “all you can eat.”  (This almost made me cry.)

Currently hovering in the $2.00 and up range

  • Schrafft’s, the haven for women at lunch, (although, towards the end of its run, the company installed cocktail bars  in an unsuccessful attempt to attract male diners), began as a candy company in Boston and vanished in the ‘70s. I adored Schrafft’s as did my grandmothers who almost always took me there for chicken salad sandwiches served by charming Irish waitresses.

On a more exalted outing, I went to The Forum of the Twelve Caesars, one of Joe Baum’s extravaganza restaurants. The exhibit has a Caesar’s menu from 1975 and menus from other bygone watering holes as well as a hot dog wagon, a display and explanation on the start of the school lunch program, cartoons from Sardi’s, (largely of people I never heard of),  a pretzel wagon, (note: pretzels were considered disreputable because of their association with saloons),  and a lot more. By all means go to the exhibit but skip lunch time because it will likely be crowded then and there’s a lot to, um, digest.

This recipe for Asian Chicken Salad includes a  two- way nod, one to Mark Bittman, my personal hero for his wonderful, never-fail recipes and easy-going attitude, and one to my mother, a non-cook who served great food.

Asian Chicken Salad for Four, Mark Bittman with some minor tweaks

1 1/2 pounds boneless, skinless chicken thighs or breasts (already cooked)

2 tablespoons soy sauce (low salt will work just fine)

1 1/2 tablespoons peanut butter or tahini (ground sesame paste)

1 teaspoon Asian sesame oil

1 clove garlic, peeled (I omit this)

A few drops of hot sauce, like Tabasco

Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1/4 teaspoon sugar

1 tablespoon rice or other vinegar

1 cucumber

1/4 cup minced cilantro leaves (or, for non-cilantro people like me, substitute ¼ cup chopped scallions)

The actual recipe starts by having you cook the chicken. I’m assuming you either roasted a chicken earlier in the week or bought a rotisserie bird.

In a blender, combine the remaining soy sauce with the peanut butter, sesame oil, garlic, hot sauce, salt, pepper, sugar and vinegar. Turn the blender on, and add hot water, a teaspoon at a time, until the mixture is smooth and creamy. (You will not need more than 3 teaspoons of water.)

Peel the cucumber (if it is waxed), slice it in half the long way, and scoop out the seeds with a spoon. Cut it into 1/2-inch dice, and combine in a bowl with the sauce. Toss chicken with the sauce and cucumber. Taste, and adjust seasoning if necessary; then, serve hot or cold. Mr. B suggests garnishing with cilantro—I’d go with scallions.

Sit down to a lovely lunch. Toast the Public Library. If you’re feeling benevolent, donate to the library.

 

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Birds of a Feather

Posted on October 13, 2012 by marigold

 

DUMBO beneath the Brooklyn Bridge

In Manhattan we have Dumbo (Down Under the Brooklyn Bridge), NoHo (North of Houston) and FiDi (the Financial District.)  Not to be outside the acronym loop, there is a splendid restaurant in southern Vermont with the moniker “SoLo,” named for its location, South Londonderry.  Solo has a creative, farm-to-table menu and is housed in an old house giving each room a slightly different personality. There is a good-looking bar in the front room and a handsome wine storage “room” adjacent to where we sat.

The Autumn Salad with local kale, fall lettuces, caramelized apples and sweet onions was incredibly fresh with a dressing made of a sheep’s milk cheese from Woodcock Farm, billed as “Autumn Snow.” The pheasant for two from nearby Someday Farm was a treat especially as I never have and never plan to do pheasant.

This bird was brined overnight and came with roasted and sautéed veggies including squash, cauliflower and lobster mushrooms which are actually a fungus that look lobster-like due to their color. All four diners gave the food three cheers.

Lobster mushroom in all its glory

 

Whatever happened to that dish of bygone days, pheasant under glass? Sounds like something Omar Sharif would have ordered for Barbara in Funny Girl. Technically it’s roast pheasant breast in a rich sauce of mushrooms or truffles, cognac and cream served under a cloche aka, a glass dome. The dome was removed with a flourish by an attendant waiter so the aromas wafted upwards to the diner before he (somehow I don’t see this as a women’s treat) dug in.

A metal cloche but the concept is identical

Talking of PUG reminded someone of a lower-brow dish also with an ‘accessory.’ Beer Can Chicken (or, as it’s also known, Beer Butt Chicken) is said to yield a very tender, moist chicken. (It’s also something I’ve never attempted.) There are innumerable variations including the use of a vertical roaster that the chicken perches on as well as differing points of view on the kind of beer to use.  I’ll leave the beer aficionados to respond.

Here is a recipe for Beer Can Chicken. Yes, it’s a bit late in the year for an outdoor grill recipe but that’s how it goes (and some of us grill outdoors whatever the weather.)

 

1 4-pound whole chicken

2 Tbsp olive oil or other vegetable oil

1 opened, half-full can of beer, at room temperature

1 T kosher salt

2 T chopped fresh thyme leaves, or 1 T dried thyme

1 T freshly ground  black pepper

Prepare grill for indirect heat. If using charcoal, put the coals on one side of the grill only. If using a gas grill, fire up half of the burners.

Remove neck and giblets from cavity of chicken. Rub chicken all over with olive oil. Mix salt, pepper, and thyme in small bowl and sprinkle over chicken.

Open beer can and be sure it is only half filled. If you like beer, drink the rest. Lower chicken onto the open can, so that chicken sits upright, the can in its cavity. Place the chicken on the cool side of the grill, using the legs and beer can as a tripod to support it.

Cover grill and walk away. After an hour, check chicken and refresh coals if needed (only with a charcoal grill). Continue to check chicken roughly every 15 minutes, until a meat thermometer inserted into the thickest part of the thigh reads 160°F – 165°F. A four pound bird should take about 1 ½ hours.

(If you don’t have a meat thermometer, poke it deeply in the thigh. If juices run clear, the bird is good to go.)

Carefully transfer chicken to serving tray. Warning: beer can and beer is very hot. Let chicken rest for 10 minutes and then lift off the can and pull out can with tongs.

Or, make a reservation at Solo and let them roast a bird for you. Much easier and they do the dishes.

 

 

 

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Godfather Redux

Posted on October 3, 2012 by marigold

Have you re-watched all three Godfather movies recently? If not, give them a shot.  The films are terrific, especially parts I and II– part III feels as though Coppola ran out of steam and stretched to tie it all up for a grand finale. The very end includes bits of the opera Cavalleria Rusticana without Pagliaccii— so often played together the opera world refers to them as as “Cav and Pag.”

The films were also a terrific way to revisit Sicily, a fascinating trip from some years ago. Coppola wasn’t on hand to film our climb up Mt. Aetna

Mt. Aetna on a nice day

that began with a bus trip from Taormina (clad in tee shirts and shorts); a ride up the mountain in a gondola ski lift, (now wearing sweaters and windbreakers we had brought as well as heavy parkas provided along with our lift tickets); a Jeep that shuttled us over a lava field and finally, a half-mile trek in ankle- deep snow.  What a hoot to gambol at the summit amid vents releasing steam from Aetna!

Coppola was also not there to witness our arrival via rented car in Palermo. Anyone who has been to Europe knows that in many cities street names are written in charming, highly illegible blue script on ceramic plaques placed high up on building walls.  Reading them in ordinary circumstances is a challenge—in a drenching rain and high wind it was close to impossible. A few expletives were exchanged before we found our hotel.

The food in Sicily was magnificent. In The Godfather, the men inhale gigantic plates of spaghetti with various ragus (while the women watch anxiously from the kitchen). We inhaled a lot of ragus as well as plenty of involtini, a layer of food wrapped around a filling. The layer is often eggplant; the filling cheese-related.  Sicily also provided an introduction to arancini,the filled rice balls that have recently become a trendy appetizer in upscale American restaurants.

Arancini

Panino con la milza, a roll stuffed with boiled beef spleen topped with caciocavallo–a sheep’s-milk cheese– which we enjoyed at Antica Focacceria San Francisco, is a must-eat in Palermo. (It sounds vile  but honestly, it was wonderful.) The restaurant itself dates from 1834 and is said to look pretty much as it did then (tiled floors, not-pristine long, wooden bar, darkly-encrusted pots.)

Everyone’s fave, a spleen sandwich

 

In the Godfather spirit, here’s a recipe for a very good ragu. If you absolutely can’t get ground veal and pork, you can substitute all ground beef. The result won’t be seriously authentic but it will still be delicious. FYI, if you end up with an overabundance of ragu, it freezes well and makes a great meal when you don’t feel like cooking.

Ragu on pasta

Ragu Godfather

5 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil (a very pretentious phrase I am coming to loathe. When does one use old,, third-pressing olive oil?)

3 tablespoons butter

1 carrot, diced

1 medium onion, diced

1 rib celery, diced

1 clove garlic, sliced

1 pound ground veal

1 pound ground pork

1/4 pound pancetta

1/2 tube tomato paste

1 cup milk

1 cup dry white wine

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

Parmegian-Reggiano, for grating

In a large, heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat the olive oil and butter over medium heat. Add the onions, celery, and garlic and “sweat” over medium heat until the vegetables are translucent and soft but not browned, about 10 to 15 minutes. Add the veal, pork, and pancetta and stir into the vegetables. (Add the meat over high heat, stirring to keep the meat from sticking together until browned and scrape up the brown bits)

Add tomato paste, milk, and wine and simmer over medium-low heat for 1 to 1 1/2 hours. Season with salt and pepper, to taste; remove from heat.

(I served this over tubular pasta but traditionalists would go for a spaghetti shape.)

Add the cooked pasta to the saucepan with the hot ragu and toss so pasta gets evenly coated.  Presumably while cooking you’ve been drinking some of the wine used in the recipe which will improve your meal and your attitude, should it need adjusting. Salute!

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The Great Out (and In) Doors

Posted on September 26, 2012 by marigold

Litchfield County, CT

Years ago, someone described what we refer to as our annual “camping trip” as a series of activities organized around meals.  How true. Although, depending on weather and locale, we generally work off at least some of the calories hiking, canoeing or biking.

This year, eight of us convened in one couples’ terrific house in northwestern Connecticut (a while ago we deleted the tents and sleeping bags in favor of beds and bathrooms. Age does have its privileges.)  Saturday was overcast but warm enough for one group to visit nearby Hollister House Garden.

A small part of Hollister House Garden

 

HHG bills itself as an “American interpretation of classic English gardens…formal in structure but rather wild in style of planting. “ For a garden to still be lovely in late October says a lot about its bones.  We marveled at the Autumn Crocus, (Colchicum autumnale, attention botanists), that looks a lot like the crocus that heralds spring, as well as  the many varieties of dahlias and the lovely Japanese anemone, the last plant to bloom in my southern Vermont garden.

Autumn Crocus–wouldn’t you think “spring?”

 

However beautiful the flowers, the rolling hills and the area’s houses, the meals were the stars. One breakfast included French toast with ham, accompanied by diced apples and golden raisins cooked together with honey. Saturday’s lunch, provided by me, was cold avocado soup with Parmesan toasts (full disclosure: I bought them), an antipasto pasta salad and dessert of lemon pound cake with lemon curd and homemade raspberry sauce spiked  with a splash of Black Currant cordial. We could have made it foodless until the next day were it not for Saturday’s dinner of ossobuco, not your typical camping food, with grated Parmesan cheese and a garlic, lemon zest and parsley gremolata to top it with as well as polenta adorned with mushrooms and salad. Sunday’s lunch included turkey meat loaf with a choice of sauces; great bread and sliced tomatoes to be fashioned into a sandwich or not, served with an innovative salad of edamame, (immature soybeans to the uninitiated), feta and dill. I’m deliberately omitting mention of appetizers and floods of wine.

Edamame out of the pod

One member of our group was a St. Bernard who does not carry any kind of keg but if she did, it would have been as well to fill it with Alka-Seltzer. She seemed to enjoy mealtime as much as the other “campers” as she had kitchen duty,  aka licking spills off the floor. (She gave the cuisine four paws up.)

 

No more treats–save room for lunch

Here is how to make the Antipasto Pasta Salad. Other than the pasta, you can adjust the ingredients to include more or less of any of them.

Antipasto Pasta Salad for 8

1 ½- 2 lbs. short twisted pasta (the amount depends on how many you’re feeding)

8 oz fresh mozzarella, cut into cubes

1 ½ jars roasted red peppers, julienned

¼ lb. pitted olives (I used a mix of types but you could use plain pimento- stuffed)

¾ lb thin-sliced hard salami cut in julienne strips

2 jars artichoke hearts packed in oil, drained and quartered

Capers—about ¼ cup, drained

1 cup packed fresh parsley washed and snipped

Dressing:

3 T red wine vinegar

1 T white balsamic vinegar

1 T Dijon mustard

1 pinch sugar

½   c. olive oil

¼ tsp salt

¼ tsp fresh ground pepper

Mix together and taste. I like fairly acidic dressing but if you don’t, add a little more olive oil.

Cook pasta according to directions. Drain well, toss with a little olive oil and cool.

Combine all the other salad ingredients and toss with dressing (this amount may be a little too generous. Add most of it,  toss and check). Add parsley.  Toss again, check seasonings, adding more salt and pepper if needed and serve.

Note: pasta can be cooked, cooled and chilled the day before. On the day you plan to serve it, let it (and any other ingredients that were refrigerated)  come to room temperature first.

And here’s the amazing bit: fun dissipates calories!

 

 

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Going to the Dogs

Posted on September 14, 2012 by marigold

Border Collie ready to roll

Sheepdog trials are fascinating and this year’s North East Border Collie Association’s, held September 8 and 9 at Merck Forrest in Rupert, VT, was no exception. Border Collies are in the MENSA category when it comes to smarts—those we saw competing had to collect a group of three sheep at the top of a hill (where, in essence, the baton was passed from the “holding” dog to the competitor), and guide them through a series of gates, down the hill in a relatively straight line to the shepherd. The sheep should move ‘quietly,’ as running would take weight off them and farmers want their animals at their heaviest when they come to market. Then the dog had to make the sheep move as a group counterclockwise around the shepherd;  guide them up hill to enter a chute; emerge from the chute and finally enter a pen.

I say get in that pen and I mean it!

The shepherd-to-dog communication is done only via whistle or voice.  “Come by me” means go left;   “away to me” tells the dog to move right and the whole thing is enough to make a somewhat dyslexic person like me nuts.  We listened to a running commentary on the PA system by a veteran shepherd incorporating terms like the fetch, the gather and the drive.

Most dogs we watched had their performance down to a science.  Then there was a young dog in his first major competition. He roared onto the field, was given the signal to start his fetch and couldn’t locate the waiting sheep (because the hill is very steep and the distance great enough so that the top is visible to the audience but not to the handlers or the competing dogs.) The bubble over that dog’s head read “I know there should be sheep here but where?”  Realizing the dog was becoming frustrated, the shepherd intelligently retired him. In two years, he could be a champion.

 

Farrier with portable forge behind him

The day included a demonstration by a local farrier (blacksmith) who worked on shoes to fit Daisy and Ellie, the Merck draft horses; games for kids; sheep shearing

Shearing

demonstrations;  an exhibition of a puppy learning the ropes and a mini-stampede by three ornery sheep who crashed out of a training ring but were successfully rounded up by a capable, senior dog.  Think of it as the US Open for Border Collies, who got their name in the early 1900s when the sheep industry flourished in the border counties between England and Scotland.

The dogs are the brains behind these trials; the sheep are awaiting a less pleasant future. This lamb chop recipe is somewhat messy when done on the stove per the instructions below.  My riff was to use much thicker chops and grill them outdoors. I made the sauce on the stove, pouring it over the cooked meat that was served garnished by more sage and the lemon wedges. No one refused seconds.

Seared Lamb Chops with Sage, Capers and Anchovies (New York Times)

Serves 2 (I served eight by cooking 16 chops, each about 1 1/2″ thick and doubling the rest of the ingredients)

6 baby lamb chops (1 1/4 pounds total)

Salt and pepper

3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil

3 anchovy fillets

3 tablespoons drained capers

15 sage leaves

1/8 teaspoon red pepper flakes

2 garlic cloves, finely chopped

Lemon wedges, for serving.

1. Rinse the lamb chops and pat them dry. Season them with salt and pepper, and let them rest for 15 minutes.

2. Over medium-high heat, warm a skillet large enough to hold all the chops in one layer. Add the oil and when it shimmers, add the anchovies and capers. Cook stirring, until the anchovies break down, about 3 minutes.

3. Arrange the lamb chops in the skillet and fry, without moving them, until brown, about 3 minutes. Turn them over, and toss the sage leaves and pepper flakes into the pan. Cook until lamb reaches the desired doneness, about 2 minutes for medium-rare. (Note: you’ll cook a good bit longer on the grill with thicker chops.)

4. Arrange the chops on serving plates. Add the garlic to the pan and cook for 1 minute, then spoon the sauce over the lamb. Serve with the lemon wedges.

Even if you don’t like anchovies, give this a try. The end result has no anchovy taste, just a complex, rich flavor.

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Say Cheese

Posted on September 9, 2012 by marigold

As a cheese, to say nothing of a goat and sheep lover, what could be more entertaining than the annual Cheese Tour encompassing farms in Vermont and nearby Washington County, NY? Our first stop was Consider Bardwell in West Paulet, VT, founded in 1864 by Consider Stebbins Bardwell (a name in a million) himself.

Today’s owners make award-winning cheeses, largely of goats’ milk, with Vermonty names like Mettowee, Dorset and Manchester. Equinox is an aged raw goat cheese named for a local mountain; Manchester is slightly nutty and also aged goat. Both are divine. www.considerbardwell.com

 

The tour map, more art than science, vaguely directed us to our next stop at Three Corner Field Farm on one hundred beautiful acres in Shushan, NY.  Here sheep are the stars. We were instructed to scrub the soles of our shoes with a disinfectant so as not to carry any harmful agents inside the barns.

Sheep grazing at Three Corner Farm

The hardy East Frisian sheep are kept outside all year which works because of their thick, wool coats. They graze on grass and clover and seem very happy although we didn’t solicit their thoughts regarding the upcoming November breeding season. www.dairysheepfarm.com.

 

A lunch break took us to Steininger’s, housed in a 150 year-old brick store in beautiful, downtown Salem, NY. A far cry from a chain operation, Steininger’s is family-run and a step back in time. I had (cheeseless) salmon salad on a bed of great lettuces and broccoli, cauliflower, tomatoes and carrots, the whole topped with a nasturtium. None of us sprang for either the desserts or the house-made chocolates, the place’s trademark items, although we did a little drooling.

Nasturtium-topped salmon and veggie salad

 

Our last stop was at Sweet Spring Farm in Argyle, NY where “Cossayuna” Nubian goats rule, producing various kinds of chevre, all yummy. Milton, one of the owners, ‘shepherded’ us through a tour of the milking process. The goats are milked in shifts, eight goats per shift, two milked simultaneously, and have their names—Sunshine, Mona, Ellis– displayed on a whiteboard with notes like “Mona’s tag is missing. She’s black and white.” www.sweetspringfarm.com

Nubians relaxing together

Pattypan and zucchini squash

At this time of year, squash of all kinds is ubiquitous. This recipe, combining squash with cheese,  makes fans even of ardent squash-haters. The cheese is Parmesan, not a local item nor from sheep or goats but hey…

Summer Squash Parmesan

Serves 4-6

2 cups young zucchini (or a mix of young zucchini, Pattypan and yellow squash—any hard rind squash will do)

Grated Parmesan cheese (from the supermarket in a plastic container but buy a good brand and select shredded—or be a hero, buy a whole piece and shred it yourself)

Olive oil

Kosher salt

Ground black pepper

Directions:

Wash and dry squash. If really young, there’s no need to peel it. Cut off tops and any brown parts and slice squash into fairly thin circles. (Pattypan may end up more like thin squares which is fine.)

Put 1 T. olive oil in bottom of a casserole dish (meaning oven-proof dish— the dish size is determined only by how much squash you use in turn related to how many people you plan to serve.)

Follow with a layer of squash. Sprinkle generously with salt and pepper, then with grated Parmesan. Keep layering squash, salt, pepper and Parmesan, ending with Parmesan.  You need only add more olive oil if you reach more than three layers. Then another 1 T should do it.

Bake in a 300° oven for 30 minutes.  If squash isn’t fully tender, bake a little longer, covering the top with foil if it begins to brown.  I realize the recipe is a little vague but it’s also very forgiving so give it a whirl.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Traffic City

Posted on September 3, 2012 by marigold

Cranes in Toronto

Traffic in New York City is horrific but Toronto’s has it beat by a mile. Partly, it’s because of the tremendous amount of building going on—cranes are the main feature of the skyline.  Who is going to buy all the condominiums going up is a mystery.

Getting from our hotel to anywhere was hampered a) because the hotel, which shall remain nameless, was out of the way and b) there was Busker Festival in full swing between the hotel and anywhere we wanted to go. (A busker is a street performer, sometimes fun to watch but in this case mostly a nuisance.) To be fair to Toronto, the public transportation is excellent—once you get to a stop.

Busker, this one not clad in full body paint

 

AGO, the Art Gallery of Toronto, was most recently redesigned by Frank Gehry in 2004. Gehry  inserted contemporary elements throughout the museum in a very artful blend of old and new. We had lunch in the Members’ Lounge (old) and fell into the Picasso exhibit showing works from the Picasso Museum in Paris, some of which we’d never seen before.

Dinner at Acadia was either a marvel (me) or not enough to eat (my husband.) It’s high-complex cuisine in a very informal setting. An appetizer of chicken cracklins’ with hot sauce, the pieces served on small puddles of whipped blue cheese, the whole presented atop a piece of (non edible) slate, was original and delicious.

The Distillery District is a must see. No mass marketers, lots of street sculpture, charming restaurants, cobblestone streets, boutiques and more, all in reclaimed buildings from The Gooderham and Worts Distillery, the largest collection of Victorian Industrial Architecture in North America. I took a Segway tour, something I’ve hankered to do for ages, and found it great fun. A Segway is incredibly easy to maneuver –wish they could replace cars in big cities but suspect the high price to own one gets in the way.

Ready for the Segway tour

Dinner at Cava,  aptly billed as “small plates, big flavors,” lived up to expectations as did a quick stop at Xococava (‘chococava’) their chocolate shop , artfully hidden nearby in a ho-hum shopping mall.  Their salted chocolates get an A+.

Once home, in a nod to Toronto’s  exceptionally good food, I made this cold avocado soup which I served  to dinner guests in small cups as a first course.

 

 

Cold Avocado Soup for 8

1 seedless cucumber, chopped (a misnomer—it does have seeds but fewer)

2 medium avocados, peeled and pitted

2 shallots, chopped

4 T plain yogurt

4 T fresh mint, chopped (or less, no need to be ultra-fussy)

More fresh mint for garnish

8 tsp fresh lime juice

1 1/2  tsp salt (you can always add more–taste)

1/2 tsp ground black pepper

1/2 tsp ground cumin

2 radishes, chopped

 

Put cucumber, avocados, shallots, yogurt, 2 tsp mint, lime juice, salt, pepper, cumin, and 1 cup cold water in a blender and process until smooth.

Chill for at least 1 hour. Serve garnished with a dollop of yogurt, chopped radish and mint leaves.

I made the soup again for the many family members in residence over  the Labor Day weekend where it was a big success with avocado-fanciers. Because we had it, I added a third avocado, more yogurt and a drop more citrus juice. This recipe is very forgiving–keep tasting after the initial blending and add more of whatever you feel it needs.

 

 

 

 

 

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Neither Bieb nor Bard in Stratford, Ontario

Posted on August 28, 2012 by marigold

The Bieb

The Bard

Canadians are big theater buffs if the Shaw Festival at Niagara-on-the-Lake and the Stratford Festival are any indication.  In Stratford with Canadian friends, we gorged on three performances in two days starting with Wanderlust, based on the poems of Robert Service (The Shooting of Dan McGrew and other works.) Service dreamed of the Yukon while toiling in a Canadian bank—got there in later years. The production is incredibly creative with a good score and excellent performances. Next day’s matinee brought Elektra by that laugh-a-minute guy, Sophocles.  This Elektra wears black pants, a white shirt, boots and a black cardigan; Clytemnestra first appears in a suit that would look right at home in Mad Men while the chorus is clad in drapey tunics and loose pants in muted colors. Why Orestes’ pal turns up in a Ninja suit and full length parka didn’t make sense to any of us, nor did the black garbage bags decorating the back of the stage. That evening, as the icing on the cake, we saw 42nd Street, all toe-tapping, Busby Berkeley-esque fun and yes, the ingénue did go out a youngster and come back a star. All four of us love Shakespeare but his plays on offer didn’t fit our schedule or were ones we’d often seen.

The Avon River is a beautiful place to stroll, full of ducks, geese and swans.

Avon swan-keeper with charges

A swan keeper busy feeding her gang romaine lettuce, (“head lettuce has no nutritional value”),  told us that come winter, the birds are put into a barn with an adjacent pond as the river freezes so thickly it’s fit for ice hockey, another Canadian passion.  The Shakespeare Garden—our nod to the Bard– is pure delight even so late in the season.

 

Although Justin Bieber hails from Stratford, we missed all related sightings, even the star in the sidewalk marking his former hangout as a busker. Can’t say it was a huge loss.

 

Vegetarian Stew

At one night’s dinner at the Keystone Alley Café, my husband—not a vegetarian—loved a Vegetarian Farmer’s Stew described as including lentils, pulses, cous cous and spices. (Note: lentils are a kind of pulse so title doesn’t make perfect sense.) This isn’t that exact  recipe but it’s also a veggie stew.

Vegetarian Stew

2 tsp vegetable oil

1 cup chopped onions

1 clove garlic, finely chopped

3 cups water

2 cups potatoes (about 2 medium), coarsely chopped

1 cup dried lentils, sorted and rinsed (use regular lentils, no need for the fancy lentil de puy)

1/4 cup chopped fresh parsley

1/2 t ground cumin

1/2 t salt

1/4 t pepper

1/4 t ground mace

8 oz small, fresh mushrooms, cleaned. Cut each one in half

1 28 oz can whole tomatoes, with their liquid

Heat oil in Dutch oven (or fairly large, heavy pot) over medium-high heat.

Sauté onions and garlic in oil.

Stir in remaining ingredients breaking up tomatoes with a wooden spoon.

Heat to boiling; reduce heat.

Cover and simmer about 40 minutes, stirring occasionally, until potatoes are tender.  Check for seasoning before serving; it may need salt and pepper.

When you serve, nod to either Bard or Bieb, your call.

 

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