Monday Market Haul - 7/20/2015

corn, cucumbers, jalapeno, zucchini, heirloom tomatoes, chives, mint, baby heirloom tomatoes, raspberries, blueberries, apricots, peaches

I had my first tomato sandwich of the season on Saturday. The tomato was a perfect, perfect tomato red. Best of all, it tasted like a tomato. It really just needed salt and to be eaten like an apple. I did fuss over it a smidge more. I rubbed garlic on warm toast then schmeared that with butter, since I’m not such a mayo girl. Layered those perfect slices on top. Showered it with salt and pepper and lastly just a sprinkle of parsley, since I’m not such a basil girl.

It was something to be savored since I’m pretty sure I haven’t stopped thinking of tomato sandwiches since last October. Juice dribbled down my arms. I ate it standing over the sink.

I know what I’m having for dinner tonight. I know what I’m having for dinner the rest of the summer.

Tomato season has arrived.

Sunday Morning Reads

For your Sunday morning cuppa joe

farmers' market love: the 10 best in america {food 52}

obviously essential - how to pickle anything {epicurious}

sorry i'm never gonna get off this soapbox about avoiding food waste {grubstreet}

and so it continues --- ways to use up herb stems {the kitchn}

new chef crush: magnus nilsson (also my next chef's table watch) {red bulletin}

the thought of bees "worrying" makes my heart just about break {ny mag}

in tune with above - pickled strawberries {food and wine}

food52's podcast "burnt toast" --- so fuckin’ solid {food 52}

Foraged Berry Butter Sauce

There was a day, deep, deep in January when it was probably too cold to be outside and all the vegetables were likely frostbitten and I was at the farmers’ market anyways. I believe I’ve told you about this before, but I will set the scene once again for the sake of this recipe’s story.

I was bundled up like it was the arctic, which I will maintain that New York basically is in the winter. The weary vegetables I had in my bag were few and mostly neutral in color. There were no bright reds, or deep blues, or vivid greens of summer. The sun was shining and it was bright, but only because of the reflection off the three feet of snow on the ground from the day before's storm. But still, I was there, a winter warrior.

Then I stumbled across the cozy stand that is Beth’s Farm Kitchen. Steam rose from a giant pot of soup. Grilled cheese with jam sizzled on a skillet. All of it was too enticing to pass up. So I sidled on over and tried pretty much every type of jam they had. Because, me.

Black Raspberry Jam, though, is where it all ended. The black raspberry brought me instantaneously back to mid-July summers in Connecticut.

This is where we go back even further, back to dreamy Connecticut childhood times where I would trot around barefoot (bee stings be damned) with a colander or sometimes just my hands and pick wild black raspberries and gooseberries from all over my yard. If I hadn’t eaten all of the ones I had picked, I’d bring them to my mother, who would make a simple yellow cake that she doesn’t even have a recipe written down for. Then she would take half a stick of ice cold salted butter and mash it up with a touch of sugar and the black raspberries I had brought her, just like her mother did before her. Yes, you read that right, cold butter. Stay with me.

She would then pour this berry butter sauce all over the fresh out-the-oven cake and I mean, it’s just the epitome of summer. Weird sounding it may be, a Mama Lunetta summer classic it is. It’s magical; butter just has a way of doing that to things. You will understand its sorcery when you try it, which I have to insist that you do. 

Just trust me.

Early Monday morning this past visit home, I was hurriedly packing to make the train back to the city and true to my mother’s nature, she went around the yard and picked a fresh batch of berries and tucked them into one of my bags when I wasn’t looking. I found them when I got to work and immediately knew their destiny...

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Foraged Berry Butter Sauce

Ingredients:

1 heaping cup of wild black raspberries

2 to 3 tablespoons raw sugar (or other sweetener)

4 tablespoons cold salted butter

Directions:

In a medium sized bowl, mash together the berries, sugar, and the cold butter. It’s best to use something like a pastry cutter to potato masher.

Mash until the berries have become soupy and mostly smashed and butter is dispersed throughout in very tiny chunks.

Pour over plain white cake. Or waffles. Or pancakes. But make sure to keep cold until using and then pour over something warm. That’s where the magic happens.

I haven’t ever done it with other types of berries, but this combination won’t be amiss with other components --- red raspberries or blackberries would fair well with more sugar, strawberries would be delicious, blueberries would be great.

The pancakes from the pictures are just these pancakes sans strawberries.

Makes about 1 cup of cold butter berry sauce.

Monday Market Haul - 7/13/2015

parsley, eggplant, whole wheat flour, white & orange cauliflower, eggs, lacinato kale, chive, tomatoes, romaine, sour cherries, strawberries, raspberries, corn, yukon gold potatoes, Andrew's local honey, summer squash, patty pan squash

I get unreasonably emotional at the farmers’ market. It’s one of those “I’m so happy I could cry” feelings. Especially in the summer, when the sun is out and beaming and stands are literally bursting at the seams with produce. I would walk around all day if I could. I got to the market much earlier than usual this past Saturday due to ambitious recipe testing plans for the weekend.

Even with being ahead of time by an hour, I somehow still got home at my usual hour of noon. Apparently when allowed, I will take complete advantage so that it doesn’t even matter how early I leave the house. Once I arrive in Union Square, I usually stop by this cute cafe that is conveniently built right into Union Square West called, Mighty Pie. There I get a coffee and then stroll through the park to Union Square East and start at that end of the market. I amble leisurely, stopping in at different stands, smelling herbs, feeling fruit, weighing vegetable prices in my head. Eventually I reach the other end, and I start my journey again, backwards. This time laying down cash for pints and pints of different berries, pounds of green beans, an ear of corn here, a stalk of rhubarb there, and on it goes.

When my bags are then what’s bursting at the seams, I waddle through the market, loaded down with vegetables and probably an inessential bunch of flowers and down into the subway. I find myself filling up with complete satisfaction and dare I say it, I almost get weepy.

I already admitted it was unreasonable, okay? Just look at this market haul though. I feel like it’s understandable.

What I Really Eat: Roasted Rhubarb & Strawberries

"What I really eat" are my Iron Chef meals. My pantry meals. Shit, my fridge is empty meals. The things that come out of necessity and lack of time. The ingredient list will usually be small and the execution usually simple. Something that is less of a recipe and more of a guideline. If something exceptionally awesome comes out of my Sunday night scramble, it will get posted as a “What I Really Eat” and probably be accompanied with a not-my-best photo.

I can’t be the only one who found a hidden half bag of rhubarb in my crisper. I can’t be the only one who bought way too many strawberries and now have the most melty batch ever hanging out in the fridge. I can’t be the only one who thought that even though it didn’t work the first two times, that maybe, maybe this time the recipe would work.

Am I the only one? It’s okay you can tell me.

I had lofty visions. There would be whey protein! And chia seeds! And almond milk! And most importantly the essence of summer in concentrate --- drippy chunks of caramelized, roasted strawberries and rhubarb. Then I would bask in that post yoga glow, drinking summer and recovery in a glass. I tried really, really hard to make the summeriest post workout shake I could. I now have the endless amount of essentially tasteless smoothie servings stacked up in my freezer to prove how hard I tried. Unfortunately for me and my next dozen yoga sessions, it just did not work. Short of using the entire batch of roasted fruit for just one serving, the sweet, puckery strawberry-rhubarb combo just did not translate through the rest of the shake. I guess I thought the flavors would be a bit more shouty. Also, I will admit that if I was trying for shakes not of the protein variety it probably would have worked much better.

On my last attempt I was a bit defeated as I packed up yet another batch bound for the freezer. But since I had resisted in dumping the entire batch of fruit into the blender, the remainder of the day I found myself scooping up spoonfuls of the roasted fruit straight to my mouth. If anything was worth sharing other than my tale of failure, it’s this dead simple recipe for roasted strawberries and rhubarb.

Recipe is obviously a strong word. Regardless, your morning yogurt or after dinner ice cream will be the better for it. I’m feeling wistful that I didn’t think to swirl it into a baked good. It just didn’t last that long.

---

Roasted Rhubarb & Strawberries

Ingredients:

2 cups rhubarb diced into 1-inch pieces

2 cups strawberries halved

2 to 3 tablespoons turbinado sugar or other sweetener (feel free to add more, I like it tart)

Directions:

Heat oven to 400 degrees.

Line a sheet pan with parchment paper. Spread fruit out across paper. Sprinkle with sweetener and then give it a good toss to coat evenly.

Put in oven until juices have released and fruit is bubbly and caramelized, about 45 minutes. Check at least once, and give it a toss if desired.

Makes approximately 2 cups of roasted fruit.

Sunday Morning Reads

For your Sunday morning cuppa joe

can I just say that I find it imperative to insist that everyone read this book

the tomatoes are coming {the kitchn}

great article on a girl who lived a year without processed foods {bon appetit}

wylie dufresne short film retrospective {time}

the secrets of foraging {grub street}

genius tip for packing veggies and dip {the kitchn}

is the empire of fast food slowly dying? {first we feast} (is it terrible that i'm a little happy?)

reduce, reuse, recycle at its best {food republic}

more tips for avoiding food waste (sorrynotsorry) {the kitchn}

Grilled Vegetables with Burrata & Pesto

In all honesty my kitchen isn’t the tiniest NYC kitchen I’ve ever seen. Technically I could probably do half a cartwheel in it. I could have a pretty good solo yoga session in it, if I ever felt the need. It is lacking quite a bit of counter space, but being a decently responsible adult I’ve been able to remedy that with the recent purchase of a shiny new stainless steel kitchen cart. I think that maybe if my boyfriend had one wish it might be that we had a bigger, deeper sink. You see, when I cook, there’s this charming little tendency I have to use every single dish/bowl/pot/pan we have in the house. But if I had a magic wand in my hand, I know what my wish would be --- a fanhood for my stove. Without one, it makes pulling out the grill pan and getting a nice sear going on some risky business.

But I took that risk of a thoroughly smoky apartment so that this dream salad could come into existence. Fresh with crispy vegetables, smoky from grilling them, herby from pesto and downright fucking sexy from burrata, this platter can do no wrong. All you people who have things like decks, and charcoal, and pools to attend to this weekend will not even have to sweat grilling up these badass veggies. And then you’re gonna top it all with burrata. Because, burrata!!

Now, I’ve waxed poetic on burrata previously. Here is yet another love letter. It’s like the best mozzarella you’ll ever eat, but better. The second it is punctured, its oozy, silky, creamy insides pour out just asking to scooped up with whatever else is on the plate for the best bite of whatever that is because, burrata. It’s not to be skipped!

Listen, I’m sorry but we’re gonna have to live with the asparagus in the pictures. Spring is obviously gone and summer has come to stay, so together we’ll have to dream of comparable summer produce to sub in instead. I think green beans are probably the answer. However, based on what I know of summer produce (which is that it is all amazing), it shouldn’t be any trouble to pick your favorite, grill it, throw it on the plate, and douse it with pesto. Nothing you pick could be bad, I’m sure of it.

Lastly, I don’t wanna say that ya shoulda made my pesto, but ya shoulda made my pesto. Recipe here! But I won’t hold it against you if you just add whatever your favorite pesto is on top of all this goodness instead.

Happy Fourth, y’all!

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Grilled Vegetables with Burrata & Pesto

Ingredients:

8 ounces sugar snap peas, trimmed and stringed

1 bunch of asparagus, trimmed of woody ends (can sub 8 ounces trimmed green beans)

2 to 3 small red spring onions, sliced in thin rounds and laid out flat

olive oil

salt & pepper

8 ounces fresh burrata, removed from the water

½ cup carrot top garlic scape pesto (recipe here or other fresh pesto)

Directions:

In a large bowl toss the snap peas and asparagus with a drizzle of olive oil and season with salt and pepper.

Drizzle the laid out onions with olive oil also, and season with salt and pepper, set aside. Try not to break the rings apart.

Heat up a grill or grill pan over a medium to high heat. Once it’s been brought up to temp, add a small batch of the vegetables in one layer on the grill. Turn the vegetables only once they have developed a nice set of grill marks.  Continue in batches until all vegetables have been grilled. The vegetables should still have a nice crunch to them.

To assemble, layer the vegetables on a big serving platter. Add the burrata to the top of the vegetables and drizzle the entire dish with a touch more olive oil. Season with a touch more salt and a heavy crank of black pepper. Add a few good dollops of pesto to the dish and serve. Alternatively, you could also toss the vegetables in the pesto before layering on plate.

Serves 6 to 8

Strawberry Cornmeal Pancakes

Once upon a time I went to film school. I spent four years studying the art of filmmaking and earning a rather questionable bachelor’s degree since our studio classes took extreme precedence over our regular humanities courses. Among the cast of characters I met along the way, my production professor was definitely the most memorable in the best way.

He had an enviable handlebar mustache, an unruly mop of charcoal grey hair, and was the type to wear sunglasses at night. He had a thick eastern European accent and was a goldmine of amazing yet basically untranslatable idioms. One of his classics was not to “confuse frogs with grandmothers” followed by “it rhymes in my language”. It tended to leave the majority of our class scratching our heads as he usually applied it any situation he felt it called for. I had an affinity for his sayings that had to do with food, for now obvious reasons. He always compared filmmaking to making soup. When he wanted you to think about something or work on something a little longer he would say, “let it simmer”. When adding to the conversation, he would “add bacon to the pan” but not because he liked bacon, but because “I just like the sizzle”.

Since starting this weird food writing journey, besides a brilliant piece of editing advice (“use the axe, not the tweezers”), the line I think of most happens to be about pancakes. When we were in film school, he was essentially applying it to first drafts of the screenplays, first takes of the shoot, first editing passes of the film. But now in my second life, I am applying his advice in the most literal manner.

Here’s what you need to know, and this is some deep shit, so get ready. It can be applied literally and figuratively as I’ve already pointed out. But basically, remember when making pancakes or anything else --- that “the first pancake is always bad”.

Oh man, it’s like the truest thing anyone has ever said. Legitimately changed my life. I think of it every.single.time. I make pancakes and never feel bad when the first one is terrible. Even these. Although I do have to say, practice can make perfect. I tend to over butter the first time around which kind of deep-frys the pancake. Sounds good in theory but that’s not what makes a perfect pancake. Low heat is important; the key to pancakes is patience. If the pan is too hot, the outside and the butter will burn, but the inside will be raw. So remember --- lower heat than you think, less butter than you think, more time than you think along with the most patience. And this, the best advice of all, remember that “the first pancake is always bad”.

Now just because I have no idea how to segue into this, can I let you in on a little secret? Not only are these pancakes so seasonal, made from mostly local ingredients, quite possibly organic and totally gluten free --- they’re also birthday pancakes. June 29th was sizzle & sass kitchen’s first birthday. Since my first post, every day behind the stove, the camera, and the keyboard in the pursuit of this site has never felt more right. This project has turned into a full-on passion and there’s really nothing I’d rather do with my days. Thank you to those of you who take the time to read these posts. Here’s to many more! Let’s toast with these pancakes.

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Strawberry Cornmeal Pancakes

adapted from this smitten kitchen recipe

Ingredients:

¾ cup rice flour

¾ cup fresh milled organic fine ground corn flour

½ teaspoon sea salt

½ teaspoon baking soda

½ teaspoon baking powder

1 cup buttermilk

2 tablespoons maple syrup or honey

2 eggs

3 tablespoons melted butter (plus extra for greasing griddle)

1 cup roughly chopped strawberries

Directions:

Heat oven to 200 degrees.

In a large bowl, mix rice flour, corn flour, salt, baking soda, and baking powder.

In a second bowl, whisk together buttermilk, maple syrup, and the two eggs. Lastly, whisk in the melted butter. Switch to a wooden spoon and gently stir in the strawberries.

Add the wet ingredients to the dry and using the wooden spoon, gently fold the batter until it just comes together.

Heat a skillet over low to medium heat. Melt just enough butter to lightly coat the skillet. Using a ¼ cup measure, scoop a ¼ cup of batter onto the skillet. The batter is a bit thicker and doesn’t spread as easy so I found that I needed to flatten the batter a bit into a pancake with my fingers. Let it cook on the first side for about two minutes, until golden brown and cooked through. Flip and cook until golden on the second side. Place in a 200 degree oven to keep warm, if desired. Continue with remaining batter.

Serve with whipped cream and maybe rhubarb sauce if you want to be annoyingly seasonal or plain ole’ maple syrup or overkill it with some homemade strawberry jam like I did the second these pictures were done.

Makes about 8 four-inch pancakes. If you're really awesome you could probably get 10. Serves 4 to 5.