Posts tagged ‘spring’

June 6th, 2010

Steak with parsleyed butter

Well, it’s not every day that I open up a cookbook and see my butchers, Emil and Joe, staring back at me (downright dapper in their striped aprons). Such an event is a rare pleasure, really — one that I never imagined (or even thought about) having, but one I won’t soon forget.

And it’s not only Emil and Joe, but the lazy canal that slunks its way through Lambertville, the trout fishermen that I spy sitting along the water on my way to work in the early morning, and a beautiful ode to the Stockton Indoor Farmers Market — my market!! — spread among the pages of the Canal House cookbooks, a subscription cookbook-cum-food magazine, that comes out three times a year.

This is my home, and it’s not just me rhapsodizing about the beauty, and food, and good people along the Delaware River; Christopher Hirsheimer and Melissa Hamilton do too! That’s good company, indeed.

But even if you don’t live here, I imagine the Canal House cookbooks would be a rare pleasure, anyway. You’re invited into the lives of Hirsheimer and Hamilton, to where they live and what they eat; their memories, and snarky sentiments; their metaphors and declarations. The recipes are homey, familiar ones; recipes you can’t read without imagining friends around the table, happy faces, happy bellies; recipes that are a breath of fresh air alongside all of the restaurant chef books that are so popular now.

Take this recipe for steak with parsley butter. It involves little more than mixing some fluffy butter with herbs and grilling a steak. Anyone one can put the whole affair together in mere minutes. All you need is a bowl, a knife and a cutting board, and a grill (or pan) to cook the steak.

The hitch is finding the best the ingredients. It’d do good to search out a nice steak. If you live near me, you could get a rib-eye from Maresca, or a big old cowboy steak from Dee and Ben, which is what we opted for last weekend. Good parsley, too, will pay off big time — try to find some that’s a shade of deep, forest green, with pretty little white tips on each leaf. Homestead Farm Market sells my favorite parsley around here (the cheapest, too: a big bouquet of parsley runs around one dollar).

Without good ingredients, this recipe might not wow you; there’s few flavors here, so they really need to shine. If you have the parsley, but can’t find, or don’t want, the steak, this parsley butter works magic with a bowl of fresh pasta, or topped on fried eggs and toast, or in a myriad of other dishes. With the steak it’s particularly magical, and I’m a little blue that I didn’t invite friends over to share when Jim and I made this, as the cowboy steaks from Highland Farm Market can certainly feed a crowd. Recipes likes this want to be shared with a full table, if only so you can be that enviable hostess, cool as a cucumber after making such a deceptively easy dinner, and soak up all the oohs and ahhs from your guests.

IMG_7366

Steak with Parsleyed Butter

Printable Recipe

adapted from Canal House Cooking, Vol. 1

feeds 2-3, with leftover butter

for the butter
8 tablespoons (1 stick) softened butter, preferably from a local dairy, or a high-fat European-style butter
1-2 cloves garlic, minced
1 shallot, minced
Half a bunch parsley, leaves chopped
Salt and Pepper

for the steak
1 large (2-3 pound) bone-in rib-eye
Salt and pepper
An hour or two before cooking, take the steak out of the refrigerator and season liberally with salt and pepper.

Beat the butter in a bowl with a wooden spoon to make it smooth and a bit creamy. Add the garlic, shallots, and parsley, and season with salt and pepper. Stir to combine. The butter can be used right away, or covered and refrigerated for up to 3 days or frozen for up to 1 month.

Prepare a hot charcoal or gas grill.

Grill steaks on the hottest part of the grill until a good browned crust has developed on the first side, about 8 minutes. To ensure a good crust, resist the urge to move or fiddle with the steaks while they are cooking, but if flare-ups threaten to burn the meat, you’ve got to move it to a cooler spot on the grill. Turn the steaks and grill the second side for 5 minutes.

Move the steaks to a cooler spot on the grill to finish cooking them, turning occasionally, until the internal temperatures reach 120F for medium-rare, and 140F for medium, 5-15 minutes longer depending on the thickness of the steaks and the desired doneness.

Pull the steaks off the grill and let them rest for 10-15 minutes. Cut the steak from the bones and slice the meat. Serve both the bones and the meat, and top with parsleyed butter.



May 26th, 2010

Freezing Strawberries

Life. It tends to get in the way of blogging now and again, doesn’t it? It happens a bit too frequently with me, it seems, and I’m awfully sorry for being away so long.

strawberries

So, I’m popping in to say hi and to tell you to rest assured: Life has not gotten in the way of strawberry season. I have my limits and no one, not Mother Nature, or paperwork, or even The Big Dog in the Sky, who my dog constantly howls at (and who, to me, sounds just like the fire engine), will stop me from eating as many strawberries as I possibly can over the next few weeks.

DSC06202

I tend to go overboard during berry season, which is something I’m totally proud of. I pick and pick. I buy in bulk. I bought this flat from None Such Farm in Buckingham, PA where they were giving away one quart for every two you buy.

DSC06233

I froze four quarts of berries, for strawberry sorbet making later in the year.  I plan to freeze a whole, whole lot more.

DSC06359

Freezing strawberries is quick work. You soak them in cold water to remove any grit. Then hull them with a sharp lil’ pairing knife.

freezing

Spread them out on a sheet pan, not crowding the pan. (A quart of strawberries fits nicely on a quarter sheet pan.) Pop the pan in the freezer and let them freeze for about 4 hours.

DSC06368

Finally, divide the frozen berries into freezer bags. I date the bags, though I’m sure I don’t need to; frozen strawberries last (theoretically) for six months. In this house, they’ll be long gone by December.

May 7th, 2010

Asparagus and Sausage Strata

.
I live out in rural New Jersey. Did you guys know that? Probably, since I blab about it all the time.

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.

in winter4.16.10 - Clouded Sunlight

I wonder if everyone who lives here takes advantage of all the local food in spring, summer, and fall. I hope so, but I doubt it. I bet too many people are going to the Whole Foods or the Trader Joe’s to pick up their weekly groceries. I understand why they do it: supermarkets are easier. Everything is there, categorized. Everything looks good.

eggs

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.

bread

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.

I also know how to cook cheap meals with high-quality ingredients. I know where to get eggs from someone’s backyard chickens for $2.00 a dozen. I know where to find the best blueberries — for $5.00 a quart (less if you pick your own) — as well as unbelievably thick and creamy local heavy cream for cheaper than you’d find at ShopRite. I know when things come into season, and which farms have what.
strata

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.

But enough of that. Let’s talk strata. The asparagus at None Such Farm market is knobbly and woodsy and comes in all sizes. It’s hard to find a whole bunch of perfect, pencil thin ones, but the gorgeous shade of purple makes up for that. Baked in a strata, you needn’t have uniformly sized asparagus anyway, since you chop them into 2-inch pieces before sautéing them and then baking in the oven for an hour.
.
strata

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.

strata

Asparagus and Sausage Strata

Printable Recipe

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.

Related Posts with Thumbnails