I want to start talking more about where I live, and the food I eat, out here along the Delaware River. Especially now, and in the coming months, when I eat like a privileged locavore instead of surviving on root vegetables, hot-house lettuce, and canned goods, as I do during those frigid winter months.
Spring in western New Jersey is a fantastic thing. The weather wobbles around for a while — chilly one day, sweltering the next — then, snap, it’s totally spring. The farms start producing and the markets open up. In April and May, there’s asparagus and spinach, and lots of it. Once the month of May rolls on we start to see peas, and finally, strawberries, and then it’s on.
The problem, though, is that nothing tastes good. Okay, that may be an overstatement. But only slightly. Unless you buy your produce from local farms with talented farmers, where you can pick up your fruit and vegetables just hours after they’ve been picked (or pick them yourself), you can’t really understand why the beautiful, organic, local strawberries from Whole Foods just aren’t very that good. Maybe it’s the bone-chilling temperatures of those stores; maybe it’s the large quantities a farm must have to harvest in order to supply a supermarket. Whatever the cause, a strawberry from one of our local farms — Manoff, or Solebury, or Terhune Orchards — is so much better than what you can buy in the Whole Foods, it’s not even a comparison.
However, I do understand that it’s not always easy to shop at small farms, and that for me — of all people — to talk smack about people going to Whole Foods would be ridiculous. I work part-time; I have 3-day weekends, every weekend; the Saturday and Sunday farmers market is right across the street from my house. If you wanted to roll your eyes and tell me to try juggling a full-time job, two kids, and a hungry husband and then see if I can eat local all summer long, you’d have a point.
But I also don’t make much money. Jim, who has a schedule similar to mine, doesn’t either. Since I quit my full-time job over a year ago, I’ve learned to pinch pennies. I buy clothes from consignment shops, I cut my own bangs, and I’ve been known to cruise yard sales at sundown, when people will give stuff away if you’ll just take it off their damn lawn already.
So I hope it won’t be too boring for those of you who don’t live nearby if I talk more on this blog about local food, where it comes from, and how much it costs. I hope it might actually be fun, getting to know me better through this information. Kinda like anthropology class, only tastier. Ideally, I hope to be able to provide some help to those of you nearby who don’t have the time to figure out where the best produce is, or when it’s coming into season here, or how to use it. I know it ain’t easy, and I’ve spent a good long time trying to figure it all out. It’s time to start sharing.
Strata is like the genius love-child of bread pudding and frittata. You add more eggs in a strata than you would in a bread pudding, so the result is less milky and custardy, more eggy. That eggy flavor totally makes me feel healthier too, even though there’s a hell of a lot of cheese and cream in there. And egg yolks in large quantities aren’t all that healthy, I guess, but they are a part of the good old American breakfast. You see, it doesn’t take much to convince me to eat cream.
Mother’s Day brunch would be pretty pleasant with a slice of this strata on each plate, especially with a mimosa on the side. Just remember, if you’re cooking for Mom, you do the dishes.
Asparagus and Sausage Strata
recipe adapted from Bon Appetit, June 2009
I used lamb and ramp sausage from Jamie Hollander’s in New Hope, which aren’t cheap. They are delicious though, and wonderfully spring.
Serves 8-10
6 large eggs
2 1/2 cups whole milk
1 cup sliced green onions
1 cup sliced shallot
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup finely grated Romano cheese
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 pound mild sausages, casings removed
1 bunch asparagus, trimmed and large stalks peeled, cut into 2-inch pieces
1 1-pound loaf rustic French bread, cut into 1/2-inch-thick slices
2 cups (loosely packed) coarsely grated Gruyere cheese
Preheat oven to 350°F.
Butter 13×9×2-inch ceramic or glass baking dish. Whisk first 7 ingredients in large bowl; sprinkle generously with pepper. Set aside.
Place sausage in large nonstick skillet; push to 1 side. Add asparagus pieces and sauté over high heat, breaking up sausage with fork, until sausage is cooked through and asparagus are brown in spots, about 7 minutes.
Arrange half of bread slices in prepared dish. Pour half of egg mixture over. Sprinkle with half of cheese, then half of sausage and asparagus mixture. Repeat layering. Let stand 20 minutes, occasionally pressing on bread to submerge. Bake strata until puffed and brown, about 1 hour. Cool slightly and serve.
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