Endless Simmer - A Food Blog

In years past, many farmers’ market regulars couldn’t wait for October’s bounty. By then, they had their fill of roasted eggplant, grilled zucchini, and caprice salad—the foods that transform summer’s heat into a satiable experience. When a chill hit the air, seasonal cooks would normally turn to hearty greens and silky winter squashes. But a change in the earth’s climate has altered kitchen plans, forcing many cooks to find new uses for the abundance of summer crops creeping into autumn.

“Go global warming!,” shouts Jaci Arnold, the self-described “biatch” of Richfield Farm in Manchester, Md., while selling produce at the Mount Pleasant Farmers’ Market. Somehow, heirloom tomatoes have found their way to 17th and Lamont Streets NW in mid-October. “We should have had a frost by this time,” Arnold says. “Everyone complains about global warming, but they’re still happy to have a tomato in October.” Although she doesn’t cook extravagantly, Arnold has heard some pretty strange ways people use up the never-ending warm-weather vegetables, most notably a yellow squash ice cream. In fact, funky desserts seem to be the standard among this particular group of farmers and sellers in Mount Pleasant.

Zachary Lester, owner of Tree And Leaf farm in Loudon County, Va., transforms his quick-to-wilt purple basil, Thai basil, and Italian basil into an herbaceous ice cream. Robert Audia, of Carroll County’s Audia’s Farms, says his wife upped the ante at this year’s annual squash festival by presenting a squash cheesecake. Tia Sumler of Truck Patch Farms in New Windsor, Md., meanwhile, suggests a labor-intensive tomato granita: She blends a few tomatoes, sugar, and cherry bomb hot peppers until smooth; places it in the freezer; and every 30 minutes (for a few hours) scrapes and stirs the mixture to create an icy, crystallized treat. Sumler acknowledges it’s a pain in the ass, but “If you’re home anyway, it’s well worth it,” she says.

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I’ve made a whole bunch of pasta salads in the past few years, each of them slightly different.  Some with a pesto flare, others dressed in extra virgin, dijon and lots of veggies.   And many variations in between, although never including mayo.

This most recent pasta salad was during my friend Julie’s wedding weekend, where one of the nights was dedicated to a grill session in her HUGE backyard.  I also realized I sucked at badminton, but that’s another story, just ask 80.

Earlier in the day I stopped by a farmers market in Jersey and picked up squash and zucchini to be grilled for the pasta salad. (Okay, now I was chatting with someone about this but we never found the conclusion, I’m hoping someone out there can help - zucchini is a squash, right?  And if so, why don’t the yellow squashes have their own name.  There are tons of other squashes with proper names - butternut, spaghetti, acorn…Why not the yellow squash?)

Okay, so I have the veggie, but I still haven’t decided on the sauce for the salad.  I automatically think to use feta, but decide to go to the grocery store and see what hits me.  I’m in the dairy aisle picking up sour cream for DAD GANSIE (my mom accidentally heated up his container in the microwave) and I stumble upon ricotta.  I’m not super familiar with the cheese, expect for in lasagnas, and every time I watch Giada’s show.  I dial up my chef-on-call, BS, and ask if he thinks ricotta will work in my dish.  We all know BS is game for anything, and without hesitation, he said to try it.

Now, the rest of the post is not meant to knock BS or anything, because he surely didn’t know about the massacre that I would soon create with the cheese he just gave the go-ahead.

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As much as I’d like to become more of a “reader,” I’m a pretty slow reader and therefore, I don’t finish the hott books until at least 2 years post their prime. Which, actually can suck: I finished The Da Vinci Code mere weeks before the movie hit theaters, resulting in my hating the film even more than the average viewer who finished the book, idontknow, four years before.

Anyway, I just finished My Life In France, Julia Child’s own tale of how she moved to Paris and started being really fucking anal about measuring. I mean, whole months of her life were dedicated to figuring out exact amounts of different ingredients. Of course, Julia’s my girl, and I’m in awe of her humility, but boy would she hate our nonchalant paradigm of cooking at ES.

This summer, though, I have a few books on my list as I plan to spend time out of the kitchen <gasp> and out on the Jersey Shore.

The Apprentice: My Life In The Kitchen [Jacques Pepin]

If you only watch one cooking show for the rest of your life, make it Jacques’ current show, Fast Food My Way. Jacuqes is an adorable, older, Frenchman. He is so funny, so talented and so entertaining to watch. And, he is a remnant of a soon to be gone generation, not just in the food world, but of a population that grew up during World War II. In a very selfish way, Jacques reminds me of my grandmother. I find comfort in him, his warmth and his excitement for food and life. I’m currently reading his memoir.

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NW D.C.: I was out with my wife at a well-known, hard-to-get-into place this past weekend and overheard a conversation at another table. The diner was complaining at their table about the service and indicated that “He is a senior member of a well-known area food blog, and the lack of service will be noted.” Well, the waiter calmed him down and comped the person a full bottle of wine. I checked the blog (will not mention) and sure enough there was an entry, and there was a mention of the lack of service, but no mention of the comped wine. Do the boards hold that much sway over restaurants that they are fearful of bad posts?

Tom Sietsema: It’s a big, bad — but never boring! — world out there in the blogosphere. I think restaurants DO care what is posted about them online. And I think some online scribes are taking advantage of the fact.

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Re bad blogger: Restaurants, like so many other places, rely on reputation. This chat has demonstrated that a bad reputation can devastate a restaurant. For a blogger to take advantage of that is despicable. The blogger in question should be outed. I for one would like to know who is blackmailing restaurants and I’m sure the restaurants would like to know who should no longer be considered a decent blogger.

Tom Sietsema: Ah, that’s a sticky, sticky path! I think it’s up to the monitors of the boards to police their chats and/or discussions. Here at the Post, for instance, reporters have editors — a safety net for which I’m very grateful. I don’t think the same can be said for many amateur food sites.

gansie: I’ve only wanted to do this once. Every other dining experience, good, bad or drunken, I’ve never felt the need to disclose the fact that I am reviewing the place. Clearly by the fact that I write this Ask Tom feature, I closely follow his guidance: never announce your critiquing presence. Even when my friends have wanted to leave little notes saying check fill-in-the-blank publication, I always take the high ground. But, no dining establishment tempted me as much as…

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About wine. Seriously, nothing. I do love going to wine tastings, swirling red liquid around in a large glass, sticking my nose in, and inhaling deeply.

I don’t smell sandalwood. I don’t taste notes of raspberry. Tannin, what?

But that’s okay. It still tastes great. And it’s free.

Anyway, here is an article I wrote for Express talking about the ways in which a wine lover can educate oneself. Maybe I should listen to my own directions.

Start Your Wine-ing: D.C. Vino Lessons [Express]

PS…After the jump learn about The Zinfandel Grand Tasting in DC next week.

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Through my work with Express, I’ve become a sell-out. I’ll explain. I’m in bed with the PR folks. The PR folks will host a “media dinner” I will then eat for free and in return write a *totally non-biased* review. I swear.

Anyway, at my latest comped meal Angie and I ate our way through a deliciously free meal at Restaurant K by Alison Swope, which I then reviewed.

As you’ll see, we tried the tamales. As Angie is from Texas and has a Honduran mother, she knows her tamales: even knowing the difference between the Tex-Mex and Central American versions. So while she clearly knew what to make of them, I am still sorting my way through the technicalities of the dish. Which made me totally laugh when I saw the following thread during Tom Seitsema’s WaPo chat.

one / tom is sure one hot tamale

Ashburn, Va.: This may sound stupid, but I have never ordered tamales at a restaurant just because I have no idea how to eat them. Do I pick them up, or do I eat with a fork? What do I do with the stuff covering them? (And what IS that? It’s not edible, right?) Do I put sauce on them? Please help end my tamale illiteracy!

Tom Sietsema: Tamales, which involve corn meal dough (typically) wrapped around cheese, vegetables or meat, are bundled in husks, which must be removed before you dig into the steamed filling. I eat tamales with a fork. Sauce is optional.

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Tamales. ..: true story. I’m an adventurous eater. My first time at Red Sage some years ago, I saw tamales on the menu. Having never had them, of course I ordered them. I didn’t know how to eat them so I ate them all. It took me some months before I figured out why the waiter had such a quizzical look on his face when he removed the plate.

Tom Sietsema: Funny!

I’ve admitted in this forum that I, too, ate my first tamale — part of it, anyway — with its husk on. Decades ago, I should add.

gansie: like i said before, i’m not so familiar with the tamale (read the review - i compare the dough to a matzah ball!), although i should be - it’s quite delicious! and i can’t lie, i’ve absolutely tried to eat the husk before.  and one more thing, does anyone know where the phrase “hot tamale” came from?

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Editors Note: By now, you may have noticed the comments by the former *lurker* miked. It took him a while to come around to the whole blogging thing, even though his woman, Edouble, is an ES contributer. So while miked will talk to me about recipes and now gChat about recipes, maybe one day we can get him on the blogging tip. You can spy on our virtual convo about omelets below. And, Maidelitala, don’t be mad miked stole your omelet thunder.

miked: have you every had a fluffy omelet?
i just made one and Maidelitala made them yesterday morning. i told her she should do a post.
1) separate yolks and whites
2) whip up whites till they get sort of fluffy/bubbly
3) pour fluffy whites into pan
4) pour yolks (if you like them) on top of fluffy whites.
5) put other omelet stuff there
gansie: yum! interesting…i never get that complicated w/ my omelets
miked: it doesn’t really take much longer—as long as you have the yolk-separating skills—you just do it while veggies, etc. are sautéeing.
gansie: and then for the omelet part
do you flip it to cook the other side or just put the filling in the runny-ish center?

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If you cook, or know someone that does, you’ve seen it. The face contortions, the grunting, the jar pressed against the stomach in an effort to muster that last bit of torque. I’m of course talking about stubborn jars that just won’t twist open. It happened tonight as Gansie was preparing dinner. Sitting in the living room, it of course was my duty to help out with jar opening. After getting past the inevitable whining that she has to ask a guy to help, she handed me the roasted red peppers. With a wry, knowing smile, I took the jar to show my masculinity. Two minutes later, all that was left of me was a throbbing arm. My dignity had long since departed.

I had to recover. Over the mocking comments from Gansie, I went for the rubber hot pad. This would give much more grip, I reasoned. Try as I might, nothing.

Next up, desperation. The synapses in my brain fired, at most, three times and decided that if I popped a hole in the top of the lid, it would break the suction. After much hammering with a fork and then knife, I was left with a dented aluminum top, but no peppers.

Then it hit me. I remembered what my mom used to do when I was young: slam the side of the lid on the floor. So after a couple of hits on a granite tile, an amazing thing happened. The freaking thing opened up like Tom Cruise on Oprah.

Here’s a pic of the damage to the lid:

I suppose the dent accomplished what I was trying to do with the knife and fork, release the suction.

If you are still reading this (no offense if you checked your email instead), what other tricks of the trade are out there? I’ve also heard that running a jar under hot water works. But I am sure there are tons of tricks that people know of. Comment away…

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Editors Note: Now that BK has taken a breather from bashing our friend, Alton, he’s now talking smack about vegetables.

Recently, I made pico de gallo and my hands reeked like onion for three days. Which stinks, both literally and psychologically, because it came out really well, but I am discouraged to make it again due to the odor. I tried some pretty aggressive soaps, but to no avail.

So I did a little research on the subject and found that if you rub your hands on stainless steel while running them under water, it would remove the smell. I gave it a shot with my stainless steel spoon rest (sadly, some of my spoons have chronic fatigue.)

Not surprisingly it worked. I loved this new discovery so much that I bought a stainless steel bar made to look like soap from MoMA. It now serves the doubly important role of removing onion and garlic smells from my hands and confusing people at my kitchen sink.

If only during my single days they would have made some sort of stainless steel gum that I could have used after garlic loaded Italian dinners. I may have done better with the ladies.

Pico de Gallo

No particular amounts. Just tomato, onion, cilantro, salt, pepper and white wine vinegar and little bit of diced cucumber to brighten it up.

Photo: 80P / Title: A Rose? Get it?

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