Farmers Market – Page 2

Golden Phelps

It’s summer and trees are heavy with stone fruits. Nectarines, freckled with yellow, orange and red, drip with abundant juice. Peaches, heavy and fuzzy like an animal, feel alive in your hand. Plums—purple, ruby and gold—are so ripe they glisten like translucent jewels.

With fruit this good, it’s hard not to want to buy a lot. Problem is, what to do with it all? Cobblers and crisps are a good option, but this summer we’ve probably eaten more than our share. I’m ready for something different. Why not a great summer fruit cocktail?

The following cocktail was inspired by one the US’s greatest, food-loving Olympians, Michael Phelps.

The Golden Phelps

Six leaves of purple basil
1 ripe plum, seeds removed and quartered
1 orange, juiced (reserve half of juice for the next cocktail!)
Splash of simple syrup
2 pieces of candied ginger, sliced
1 ounce dark rum
1 ounce light rum

Add the basil leaves in a cocktail shaker and muddle for 2 seconds to release the herb’s oils. Add the plum and one sliced piece of candied ginger. Continue to muddle. Fill shaker with ice. Add juice of the orange, simple syrup and rums. Shake. Taste for balance. Add more simple syrup or orange juice if needed.

Strain and pour over ice, leaving room at the top for adding pieces of muddled fruit and basil to glass. Garnish with candied ginger and basil.

Dive in and enjoy!

August 1

A dish with Alice Waters

There’s something so wonderful about cooking from a recipe. By following the directions, ingredient for ingredient, you are, in a sense, channeling the culinary spirit of the chef that created the dish. When the dish is complete and you sample the flavors, you are able to take an objective view of the dish. You can marvel at the ideas that brought those singular flavors together. You may note the subtlety of flavor or the unexpected abundance of it. By cooking dishes created by the masters, you begin to understand the inspirations of a Chef from the inside out.

Last night, in preparation of returning my many Alice Water’s cookbooks to the library, I made simple dessert—based on an amalgam of two recipes and what ingredients I had on hand. Some of the adjustments were mine, but the style of the dish is all Alice.

My first bite of this semi-sweet, rustic crisp made me feel like I was enjoying a dessert that Alice Waters and Lindsay Shere had made especially for me.

Nectarine and Blueberry Crisp
Adapted from the Chez Panisse Café Cookbook and Chez Panisse Fruit

½ cup almonds
1 cup all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons brown sugar
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon
a pinch of salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter

5 ripe nectarines, pitted and cut into 1 inch pieces
1 cup blueberries
¼ cup sugar
3 tablespoons unbleached flour
zest of one lemon, chopped fine
1 tablespoon aged rum

For the Topping

Preheat oven to 375 F. Toast the almonds until they smell nutty and are slightly more brown, about 7 or 8 minutes. Chop the almonds to a medium to fine consistency. Combine the flour, the sugars, the salt and spice in a mixing bowl. Add the chilled butter in pieces and mix with your fingers until it becomes mealy. Add the nuts and mix until the flour mixture holds together when squeezed. Put aside. (The topping can be prepared up to a week in advance and refrigerated).

For the Crisp
Mix the fruit in a medium-sized bowl and then add the sugar. Taste and adjust for sweetness. (*Note, don’t over sugar the fruit—there’s something quite beautiful about a semi-sweet crisp. Don’t be afraid to let the fruit express itself in its truest form.) Dust the flour over the mixture and stir gently. Spoon the topping into a small cooking dish is just big enough to hold the fruit. Mound a small amount in the center of the dish. Then, gently add the crisp mixture on top. Lightly push the crumble on top of the fruit mixture.

Place a cookie sheet on the middle rack of the oven (to catch any overflow juices) and put the crisp dish on top. Bake in the oven for 40 to 50 minutes, or until the top is lightly browned and the fruit juices are thickened and bubbling. The delicious smell of baked fruit will help you know when it’s close to being ready.

Serve with rum flavored whipped cream or vanilla ice cream. Finish the ice cream with a sprinkle of Maldon sea salt.

June 23

Art of the bar

Maybe it’s because I grew up in a sea-side village in Massachusetts, but fresh fruit wasn’t something I was accustomed to. Fresh fish, yes. But fresh fruit? Ah, no.

Exotic bananas, kiwis and citrus fruits could be bought for an inflated price at any of the major New England based grocery stores, but they were purchased knowing full well they were treasures from far away. Crisp apples, juicy pears, fat strawberries, tart blueberries, soft raspberries, mouth watering melons and delicate concord grapes were mine, but only for the fleeting dog days of summer and cool nights of fall.

As a bartender in Cambridge, Mass., I made plenty of cocktails. I made the classics (Martinis, margaritas, and simple mixed concoctions) with brand name liquors with sour mix from a plastic bottle, canned pineapple juice, coconut mix, orange juice from Florida, or soda. Fruit, for an east coast bartender like me, was never a featured element. Lime, orange and lemon were visual flourishes, only to be used as a garnish.

Calfornia Flavors

It wasn’t until I moved to California that I tasted a fresh cocktail. My understanding of what a drink could be was changed forever when I tasted my first handmade Mojito. I was floored (literally) by the fresh flavors of lime and mint and the balance of acidity and sweetness.

Suddenly, I understood that cocktails shouldn’t be a barely disguised alcohol delivery system–it should be a delicious, refreshing, appetite enticement made with as much care as a diner’s first course.

During my time working in California restaurants, I learned how to make cocktails with hand-squeezed citrus, freshly muddled herbs and specialty liquors and perfected the art of balancing sweetness and acidity. Then, when I starting running a restaurant that specialized in hand made cocktails, I was free to show my creativity behind the bar and create amazing cocktails from fresh, seasonal produce for the restaurant. It was, by far, the most fun and rewarding part of my job.

Though popping open a ready-to-drink bottle of wine can be undeniably easy, making a great cocktail at home doesn’t have to be difficult.

Creating a cocktail

Here are a few simple rules to follow when making a fresh cocktail:

1) Use great, fresh ingredients
Fresh fruit and citrus should be juicy. If you discover you’ve purchased “dry fruit” (fruit that just isn’t giving up its juice easily) either toss the fruit or, if you don’t want to go back to the store, double up on the amount of fruit you use in order to get the correct flavor.

2) Maintain balance
Acidity and sweetness must always be in balance with each other, as well as the alcohol. Don’t let one ingredient hog the limelight. Everything in well-crafted drink, must perform together, in unison.

3) Taste
Don’t be afraid to take a little taste of what you’re making to make sure it’s right. A great bartender, like a chef, must always taste in order to maintain consistency.

4) Experiment
Don’t be afraid to try something new. Buy fresh fruit and taste them. What flavors would go well with it? What does it remind you of? A favorite pie? A childhood popsicle? These trusted flavors can lead you and your cocktail making to great places.

The following is a recipe I created this weekend after tasting the sweetness of a ripe pluot, fresh from the market.

Dapple dandy
Half plum, half apricot, the pluot’s intense sweetness and playful acidity is the perfect center point for this refreshing summer time drink.

1 ripe pluot, cut into thick wedges (a ripe plum could work, also, though you may need to add more lime juice to balance the flavors)
Juice of one lime
Simple syrup* to taste (about 2-4 tablespoons)
1/8 tsp. almond extract
1-1.5 ounces premium vodka
Ice

Muddle the pluot wedges (in either a cocktail shaker or pint glass) until most of the juice is released. Add the juice of one lime and almond extract. Fill shaker with ice. Add vodka and shake to mix well. Taste. Pour into glass and serve.

Enjoy!

*Making your own simple syrup is easy. It’s just one part sugar to one part water. Boil water, add sugar. Take off heat when sugar dissolves. Let cool. There’s a simple, step by step recipe here.

April 29

Taste of Spring: Favas

When I shell peas, any kind of fresh bean in a pod, I am instantly transported back to the early days of my childhood. Pop open a pea pod and that sweet, almost green smell brings me a vivid sensory memory of the old farmhouse we once lived in and the lush vegetable garden my mother lovingly tended by hand. When I sat down in front of my television the other night to peel six pounds of fresh Fava beans (also known as an English “broad bean”), I was immediately transported to my days as a make-believing six year old, sitting cross-legged on the screened-in porch, shelling a bowl of peas.

While a caught up on my Tivo’d recordings, I snapped the tiny green caps off the end of my Fava bean pods and, recalling the same wonder I felt as a child, I zippered open its belly with the pod’s center “string”. Once inside the pod, I was like a child observing nature’s ingenious design. I marveled at the white spongy material that held the tender beans in place and protects them from harm. Curious, I popped a fresh Fava from the shell and put one in my mouth. The flavor made me cringe a little as I discovered that fresh Fava beans are too bitter to be eaten raw. Considering how long it takes to shell a fava bean, it’s a good thing that the beans’ fresh, green, earthy flavors are just perfect for short cooking time.

Many chefs cook young, fresh Favas in the pod while others recommend shelling the beans and cooking them in salted water for salads, side dishes and purees. After an hour of shelling, I decided upon a recipe that was not only extremely easy to prepare but also something uniquely original. In a city filled with fava bean purees and fava bean salads, it was rather refreshing to find a decadent dish such as this.

The following recipe from the Silver Spoon is sure to please the adults at the table, along with curious six year olds with a hankering for shelling fresh peas.

FAVA BEANS IN CREAM
Adapted from the Silver Spoon cookbook

3 pounds Fava beans, shelled
1 cup heavy cream
2 oz Fontina

Cook beans in salted water for 10 minutes. Drain the beans and then tip into a skillet. Add cream and simmer gently for 10 minutes, or until thickened. Stir in fontina and cook until it is just starting to melt.

Serve immediately.

March 25

Deconstructed Creamsicle Recipe

Getting to know a place eventually requires a trip to the market. Step into a local market and discover valuable cultural information, right there on the supermarket shelf. City markets filled with ready-made convenience food show a wholly different snapshot of daily life than the mom-and-pop corner store with a deli counter and an aisle of mismatched necessities.

It wasn’t until I started frequenting farmers’ markets that I really started to understand just how different California was from Massachusetts. Back east, vegetables were named simply: potato, lettuce, corn. In Massachusetts I never thought of varietals, hybrids, heirloom, and organics. But at the markets of California, I saw fruits and vegetable I’d never heard of. I experienced produce that tasted more real than anything I’d experienced before.

Suddenly, a tomato wasn’t just a tomato. An orange could be any number of different things.

After scanning cookbooks in search of the perfect ending to a culinary celebration with my friend Leah of Spicy Salty Sweet, I found Suzanne Goin’s recipe for “Creamsicles” and sugar cookies in Sunday Suppers at Lucques. Before thoroughly reading the recipe, it was easy for me to conceptualize the dessert. I would serve sugar cookies with a bowl of vanilla ice cream, topped with freshly squeezed orange juice. It wasn’t until I actually read the recipe that I realized I was about to enter into uncharted citrus territory.

Continue For an Incredible Deconstructed Creamsicle Recipe »

February 10

Sunday Market Chicken Sandwich

It was a beautiful day in LA today. The streets were packed with runners, people walking their dogs and cars sped past with families eager to make the most of the warm weather. After weeks of unseasonably cold Los Angeles weather, things are starting to heat up again.

At the Hollywood Farmer’s Market this morning everyone had a smile on his or her face. The pedestrian streets were packed with happy families and hand-holding couples in short skirts and tee shirts–their bare limbs basking in the glory of our newly returned sunshine. With the cold snap a week behind us, the farmer’s fare looked lush and plentiful. Satsuma oranges and golden yellow Meyer Lemons glowed in the sunlight. Tomatoes were plump and avocados were soft to the touch. Carrots of all shapes and sizes–tiny sweet ones, large rabbit teasers–attracted hundreds of eager eyes to their bright colors.

I quickly emptied my pockets of singles and twenty-dollar bills with all that I loaded into my Mexican lobster market bag. I bought firm little Persian cucumbers, fresh mint, a heavy bunch of red and white Swiss Chard, a fat handful of green and purple scallions, sun kissed Meyer lemons, Japanese oranges, hand picked spinach, ripe avocados and a batard of freshly made bread from the Bread Man.

Back home, after showing my husband my market finds, we got inspired to make sandwiches. After frying up some fresh chicken breast and spicy chicken sausages from Trader Joes we had the freshest lunch in town.

Sunday Market Chicken Sandwich
Fresh French Bread–warmed in the oven
Sautéed chicken breast
Juice of half a lemon
Mayonnaise
Fresh market spinach
Whole grain mustard
Olive oil
Malden sea salt
Mild flavored cheese

Warm the bread in the oven at 250 while you sauté the chicken in a little olive oil. Squeeze half a lemon and a pinch of salt to season the chicken. When the bread is warm inside and has a bit of crunch cut into it halfway to create a pocket for the food to go into. Spoon May onto the bread, whole grain mustard then add spinach and cheese. Add chicken and drizzle with a little olive oil and salt. Put in oven for 3-5 minutes to warm up the cheese.

Persian Cucumber Salad

5 little cucumbers
A healthy drizzle of olive oil (your best stuff) to dress
A good-sized bunch of mint (finely chopped)
2 scallions (finely chopped)
Salt and Pepper
A splash of red wine vinegar

Peel the cucumbers and slice ¼ inch thick. Add finely chopped scallions. Drizzle the whole thing generously with olive oil—enough to coat everything and to make a nice dressing. Add a splash of vinegar (about 2 tablespoons) and season with salt and pepper to create a balance of acidity with the oil and salt. Put in freezer to make cold. Serve within minutes.

December 29

Umami in my Sunday Market Seen-Better-Days Vegetable Soup!

Almost every Sunday you can find me at the Hollywood Farmer’s market with a smile on my face and a pocket full of dollar bills. If you see me just before noon, you’ll see me struggling to carry a cup of coffee in one hand and a week’s worth of fresh fruit and vegetables in my overloaded Lady of Guadalupe shopping bag, in the other. I like to limit myself to one bag, because it keeps me from buying too much produce that I’ll never get around to using.

Usually by week’s end, I am successful in creating dishes that include all of my market fresh ingredients. But come Saturday night when almost a full week has passed, I can usually find a few neglected vegetables in the refrigerator’s crisper that need using. Take for example last week. Even though I intended on cooking a beautiful Christmas dinner with some friends, the electricity was intermittent because of the Santa Anna winds, so at the last minute my husband and I ended up eating take-out Chinese instead. We enjoyed not cooking, but come Sunday morning when it was time to take accounting of what was needed at the market, I discovered a crisper full of wilted bunch of carrots with the greens still on, a head of cauliflower just starting to show signs of turning, a butternut squash and a handful of onions. Being mindful of our household budget, I decided to skip the market and make a pot of soup for the week from the vegetables at hand.

SUNDAY MARKET SEEN-BETTER-DAYS VEGETABLE SOUP
*only to be made as penance for when you’ve failed at making use of most or a good amount of your market vegetables.

Open the crisper. Take out all the produce you haven’t used all week. Forgive yourself for being lazy/busy/distracted by your life.

Separate the fresh ingredients from the produce that looks like it has seen better days. Seen-better-days produce like wilted veggies, limp carrots, half used onions and any other green that has lost its spunk, should be used for building the stock. The other vegetables should be saved for adding to the soup once the stock is made.

Put a large stock pot of water on the stove on high. While the water heats up, add the stock making vegetables. The fun part about this, is everything can go in. Carrots with the tops on. The whole bunch of wilted celery. Half up a few onions and whatever else you have laying around. Don’t worry about making this stuff look pretty. It’s all going to get tossed out once the vegetables are cooked down.

**Cook’s note: If you have one of those amazing pasta stock pots with the internal pasta basket, throw the vegetables in there. That way it will be easy to remove the cooked down/stock making vegetables.

Bring the water/vegetable pot to a boil and immediately bring down to a simmer. Let stock simmer until your kitchen fills with the aromatic smell of soup. At least an hour or more. While this is happening, prep your semi-fresh or fresh vegetables. Good veggies for soup are cauliflower, squash, kale, pea tendrils, onion, carrot, celery, etc. Cut your ingredients into uniformed bite sized pieces.

The stock is ready when the water has a distinctly new color (green/brown) and should have a sweet, vegetable flavor. When the broth is almost sweet with vegetable flavor, remove the cooked down vegetables from the broth.

Add the fresh ingredients, a bay leaf and some salt. Simmer for at least an hour.

Begin tasting your soup for seasoning. Enjoy this moment as you taste all of the flavors of the market intermingling. What flavors are more pronounced?

Once you know the basic flavor of the soup, add at least two to three tablespoons of soy sauce to the soup. Taste again. Believe it or not, this little step is going to make a HUGE difference in improving the flavor. By simply adding soy, suddenly the soup tastes hearty, as if you added chicken or beef stock. **Why is this? Well, according to a recent Wall Street Journal article, there’s something in soy sauce that elevates food to a whole other level and gives it a FIFTH FLAVOR. The Japanese call this satisfying meaty/savory flavor, Umami. But I digress. Add more soy if needed, according to your taste.

Simmer for another hour if you want the flavors to really come through. For a hearty soup, add hearty pasta noodles or leftover rice. You can also serve the soup over day old bread.

Serve the soup in warm bowls and finish it with grated Parmesean, to bring out even more satisfying flavors of umami!

Keep some soup in fridge for tomorrow and freeze what’s left in to-go containers or Tupperware for later in the week! Enjoy!

December 2

Church of the Market

Thanks to my New Age mother and my unusual upbringing as a yogi-blessed protestant that received yearly psychic, rune and tarot readings as well as comprehensive astrological charts, I’ve been the kind of person that could find God (a higher power that touches everyone and everything), just about anywhere. I’ve found God in incense scented temples, Renaissance churches, and quiet road side shrines. I’ve felt God in the crashing waves of the Atlantic, in the olive groves of Italy, in the tall branches of the California redwoods, in the smile of a newborn and, most recently at the Hollywood Farmer’s market.

It’s not surprising that I’d find God at the intersection of Hollywood and Vine. The city I live in is, after all, named after angels and the streets there are paved with stars. Look around the block and it’s not too hard to find bleeding heart Jesus’ on a tee shirt and a brightly painted picture of the Lady of Guadalupe tacked to the taco truck’s window. Not far from the fresh fruit vendors stands, I’ve seen Hasidic Jews on roller blades talking about the Talmud on their cell phones.

Going to the Hollywood Farmer’s market gives me the chance to settle down, be quiet and get right with God. I swear the vegetables talk to me. I get whole sermons from a juicy Clementine. I’ve heard homilies in a freshly cut peony. At the church of the market, the choir is made up of chefs in a produce trance, the blind guitar player named Pepe, and red-faced babies in strollers, busy chewing on a handful of grapes. The freshly cut samples, pierced through by a toothpicks, are my communion.

I don’t know what it is about the bright colors of the fruits and the earthy smells of the vegetables, but every Sunday I go to the farmer’s market I come back a better person. Tasting a sun warmed grape or a glistening orange slice silences me immediately. I close my eyes and become mindful of every flavor. Some times, when I smell a ripe apple or a juicy pear, I remember what it was like to be a five year old enjoying a piece of fruit. In those moments, I am both a child and an adult, overwhelmed with happiness, humility and the appreciation of the simple things. My worries melt away and the incessant buzzing of my brain working out the details of my life quiets down to nothing.

Going to the Hollywood Farmer’s market not only feeds my belly for the week, it satisfies my soul. I find solace in the Swiss chard. I get comfort in a handful of ripe tomatoes. I won’t say that religion is the answer for everyone. But I’m willing offer a guess that a visit to the Hollywood Farmer’s market might be.