Thursday, May 24, 2012

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Radish Butter and Wordsworth

Berkshire native Alana Chernila, local politician, mother of two, and author of the new cookbook, The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying & Start Making (Clarkson Potter), dispenses change and cooking ideas at the Great Barrington Farmers’ Market. She shares her peak-of-the-season recipes with Rural Intelligence to help us make the most of what’s growing in the region’s farms, fields, and gardens. This week, Alana garnishes her recipe with a sprig of poetry.


I think Wordsworth is such a good poet for the Spring! I crave him like I crave fresh greens. He talks about nature in a way that just makes me want to get away from my computer and sit in the woods.

“Wisdom and Spirit of the universe!
Thou Soul, that art the Eternity of thought!
And giv’st to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! not in vain,
By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul;











Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man;
But with high objects, with enduring things,
With life and nature, purifying thus
The elements of feeling and of thought,
And sanctifying by such a discipline
Both pain and fear,–until we recognise
A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.”






-William Wordsworth, from Influence of Natural Objects: In Calling Forth and Strengthening the Imagination In Boyhood and Early Youth

Radish Butter

Combine 1 softened stick of butter with 6 finely chopped radishes, 3 snipped chives, a hefty squeeze of lemon, and the best salt in your cupboard.

Mix, and enjoy.
—Alana Chernila

Editor’s note: For best results, try this recipe with your own homemade butter. Alana shows you how to make your own butter in just five minutes in this story.

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Posted by Bess Hochstein on 05/19/12 at 05:09 PM • Permalink

Rhubarb Cinnamon Polenta Cake, with Thanks to Nigel Slater

Berkshire native Alana Chernila, local politician, mother of two, and author of the new cookbook, The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying & Start Making (Clarkson Potter), dispenses change and peak-of-the-season cooking ideas at the Great Barrington Farmers' Market. Lately she has been devouring Nigel Slater's latest book, Ripe: A Cook in the Orchard, from which she adapted this recipe for rhubarb, which is cropping up like wild in our region.


There are only a few plants growing in my garden right now. I’ve been trying to get out there to get my seeds in, but still, it patiently waits. But now, there are chives, and sorrel, and mint. And then, of course, there is rhubarb.

Years ago, I was driving down Tyringham Road. This is a beautiful stretch of road between Lee and Tyringham in our corner of Western Massachusetts, with a valley and mountains and enticing winding roads coming off of it every which way. I was in the car with my friend Molly’s mother Lin, although I can’t remember why. She is a true urban gardener, and for decades now, she has maintained a one or two wonderful little plots of land filled with food and flowers. We drove by a small ranch house on that street, and right by the driveway, there were a few potted rhubarb plants and a handwritten sign–rhubarb $5. Lin pulled over, claiming that this was the rhubarb for me.

“I can tell. These plants are going to do well.”

She’s a scientist, and she knows these kinds of things. So I bought my plant, and I took it home, and I put it in the ground.

Now, when it comes to gardening, I often feel like I’m groping around in the dark. I am surrounded by gardeners and friends who are usually happy to answer even my simplest questions, but still, I feel like I have to plant and water and see something grow in my yard in order to know how it works. (That is, if it works–otherwise there are different lessons to be learned!) I am looking forward to some time decades from now when I can say I really know how to garden, and when the success doesn’t shock and amaze me every time.

But this rhubarb and I–we started a relationship then and there. And every year it comes back, poking out of the ground with its prehistoric and ungraceful looking foliage, and I cheer and I feel like a queen (even though it comes back without an ounce of help from me). Then I greet it with a torrent of new rhubarb recipes. The plant always produces deep into the summer, and by then I have other things to bake, and so every visitor has to wait as they’re walking out to their car while I holler, “Hold on! Let me send you home with some rhubarb!” True story. Ask anyone.

This a good and upstanding rhubarb cake, full of complexity and self respect. The batter involves uncooked polenta, which gives the whole shebang a bit of crunch. It’s a perfect tea snack and is even better on the second day. Around here, it also served quite nicely as a breakfast. I don’t know anyone who would say no to a piece of this with a cup of dark coffee.

It’s adapted from a recipe by British gardener and food writer Nigel Slater; I feel like he would be happy that I have altered it to my own tastes. This cake also doubles beautifully.

Rhubarb Cinnamon Polenta Cake

Adapted from Ripe: A Cook in the Orchard
(serves 8)


For the filling
1 pound rhubarb

1/4 cup superfine sugar

4 tablespoons water

For the crust

3/4 cup coarse polenta

1 1/2 cups plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon (he calls for “a pinch”)

1/2 cup superfine sugar (he calls for 3/4 cup)

Grated zest of a small orange

10 tablespoons cold butter, cut into 1-inch pieces

1 large egg

2 to 4 tablespoons milk

1 tablespoon demerara sugar (granulated will do here if that is what you have)

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Put a baking sheet in the oven. (You want it to get hot, you’ll use it later in the recipe.) Butter an 8-inch springform cake pan, then line the bottom with parchment.

2. Cut the rhubarb into into 2 to 3-inch pieces. Put them into a baking dish, scatter them with the sugar and water, and bake for about 30 minutes, or until soft. Drain the fruit in a colander and reserve all of the cooking liquid to serve with the cake later.

3. Meanwhile, put the polenta, flour, baking powder, cinnamon, and sugar into the bowl of a food processor and give it a quick pulse to mix. Add the orange zest and butter and pulse again several more times until the mixture is uniform and the butter is the size of small peas. Beat the egg with 2 tablespoons of milk, and add that mixture to the batter while pulsing again, stopping as soon as you have a soft, sticky batter. Add a bit more milk if it’s not sticky.

4. Press about two-thirds of the batter into the cake pan with a wooden spoon or your fingers, taking care not to have any holes. Cover with the drained rhubarb–then put lumps of the remaining batter over the rhubarb, leaving holes for the fruit to poke through. Scatter the demerara sugar over top.Place on the hot baking sheet in the oven and bake for 45 to 55 minutes, or until slightly golden.

Allow to cool for at least 20 minutes before removing from the pan. Serve with the cooking liquid drizzled over top, with something creamy on the side (creme fraiche, ice cream, or Greek yogurt). —Alana Chernila (0) Comments

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Posted by Bess Hochstein on 05/12/12 at 01:16 PM • Permalink

Ramp, Asparagus, and Ricotta Frittata, and an Apology

Berkshire native Alana Chernila, local politician, mother of two, and author of the new cookbook, The Homemade Pantry: 101 Foods You Can Stop Buying & Start Making (Clarkson Potter), dispenses change and cooking ideas at the Great Barrington Farmers’ Market. She shares her peak-of-the-season recipes, like this frittata that captures the essence of spring, with Rural Intelligence to help us make the most of what’s growing in the region’s farms, fields, and gardens.
 
 
Before we get into it–an apology.

I’m just a little bit sorry for including ramps in this recipe. I’m sorry this recipe includes a food for which you might have to forage, most likely with someone who either 1) despite living in Brooklyn, seems to know her way around the woods better than any of the Boxcar children; or 2) is some old reclusive friend of your great uncle who offers to show you his “ramp spot.” Although I do come into a little bunch of ramps now and then, most of the time, I see beautiful recipes with ramps, and I feel that they are out of my reach. It is not a particularly inclusive ingredient.

And with all that, how did I manage to find these ramps to scatter and roast with asparagus? The short answer is–they were a gift.

In April, we had a little book party at The Chef’s Shop, hosted both by them and The Bookloft. The promise was snacks, book signing, and demonstrations, and we got most of that accomplished. My mother and I had been cooking for two days straight working on the snacks. I signed lots of books, and one demonstration happened, but I learned that cooking and signing are not complementary activities.

At one point my friend Christina walked in with her mother, and after I squeezed out from behind the table to give her a hug, she presented me with a bunch of ramps that she had foraged from the farmers’ market in far away Saratoga Springs. Over the next few hours, those ramps sat on the table, and their perfume made me drunk. I was hungry, and just a little preoccupied by those ramps and what I would do with them.

Toward the end of the afternoon I started squeezing lemons for ricotta. By the time it was ready there were just a few stragglers patiently waiting for their dixie cup of ricotta. I passed out the ricotta, happy, tired, and looking forward to a big glass of water (then a big glass of wine), and there they were, side by side on the table, warm ricotta and ramps. It was all I could do not to pull a cast iron pan off the display shelf and make this frittata right there. Like I said, I was hungry.

Ramp, Asparagus, and Ricotta Frittata

This might be my favorite in a long line of frittatas. It’s heavy on the ricotta, and the result is a bit denser and more substantial than a typical frittata. If you don’t have access to the ramps, no need to worry. As ramps are wild leeks, regular old leeks will do. Scallions or chives would also make a fitting replacement, but I’d recommend that you reduce the quantity by about half.
(serves 6)

One large bunch asparagus, trimmed of the tough stalk area (11-12 ounces after trimming), cleaned and dry

1 bunch ramps (4 to 6 ounces)

olive oil

7 large eggs

1/2 cup whole milk

1 1/2 cups ricotta cheese

1 1/4 teaspoons salt (use less if your ricotta is salted)

2 tablespoons all-purpose flour

a few grinds of fresh-ground pepper

2 tablespoons butter

1. Preheat the oven to 400 degrees. Lightly grease a baking sheet with olive oil, and lay the asparagus on it. Drizzle with a bit more olive oil, and roast for 10 minutes.

2. Meanwhile, prepare the ramps. Cut off the root, and remove the loose outer skin around the bulb. Cut off the leaves, rinse, roughly chop, and set aside. Clean the bulbs of any excess dirt. Then, add the bulbs to the roasting asparagus and roast for another 5 minutes. Allow to cool for a few minutes, then roughly chop the asparagus and ramp bulbs.

3. In a blender, combine the eggs, milk, ricotta, salt, flour, and pepper. Blend until smooth.

4. Heat a 12-inch cast iron skillet over medium heat. Add the butter, and as it melts, spread it around the sides of the pan as well as the bottom. Add the ramp leaves and cook, stirring often, until the they wilt, about 1 minute. Then add the asparagus and ramp bulbs, then the egg mixture. Do not stir!

5. Preheat the broiler setting on your oven to a medium heat (if you have that option). While it heats, let the frittata cook on the stove top under your watchful eye. It will start to barely bubble and firm up, but what you’re really watching for is that moment when it starts to separate from the sides of the pan. If you smell any hint of burning, remove it from heat. Transfer to the oven, and watch carefully. Within a few minutes (or quicker- some broilers are fast!), the frittata will be golden and firm all the way through. Let cool for a few minutes before serving.

This is also great cold, and excellent picnic fare. —Alana Chernila

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Posted by Bess Hochstein on 04/27/12 at 01:33 PM • Permalink

Berkshire Borscht: Amy Cotler’s Locavore Version

You won’t believe the depth and character of this meat borscht, a hearty meal-in-one soup from my book, The Locavore Way.  It’s a winter favorite in my house that continues to get better over the course of several days and freezes well, so double or even triple the recipe. The recipe calls for chuck roast, which works well, but you can pretty much use any meat, adding bones for flavor and then removing them at the end of the cooking time. The yogurt or sour cream topping and all the vegetables but the tomatoes are available now, and if you have tomatoes you put up last summer they would be a wonderful addition.
—Amy Cotler

Berkshire Borscht
Makes about 2½ quarts.

Ingredients:
3/4 pound beets
1-1/4 pounds boneless beef chuck roast (or any stewing meat), cut into bite-sized cubes*
flour
3 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 quart water or beef stock, or some of each
1 (28-ounce) can diced tomatoes, drained
3-1/2 cups shredded cabbage, any kind
2 carrots, diced or shredded
2 celery ribs, diced or shredded
2 small or 1 large onion, chopped
1 tablespoon tomato paste
1 to 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar
1½ to 2 tablespoons lemon juice
2 to 3 cloves garlic,minced
salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
1 tablespoon sugar (optional)

Optional Toppings:
Yogurt, sour cream or crème fraiche
Chopped fresh dill

Preparation Tip: Use a food processor to shred the veggies, radically cutting down on preparation time.

1. Preheat the oven to 400°F. Wrap the beets in foil, and roast them until they are easily pierced with a fork, about 1-1-1/4 hours. Set the beets aside until they are cool enough to handle. Removing any remaining stems. Slip off and discard their skins, peeling any that stick. Dice the beets by hand or grate them in the food processor. Reserve.

2. Meanwhile, toss the meat in a bowl with a little flour until lightly coated. Remove the meat, leaving most of the flour
behind. In a large pot, brown the meat in one layer in the oil over medium-high heat, shaking the pan and turning the meat as it browns. (Do it in two batches if necessary.) Don’t worry if some sticks or if the meat doesn’t brown evenly.

3. Add the water and/or broth and tomatoes, and simmer gently until the meat is almost tender, about 1 hour or more. (Taste it!)

4. Add the vegetables, including the beets, and tomato paste. Simmer gently for another 30 minutes or until the meat is very tender. (If necessary, add extra water or stock to reach the texture of a thick soup.)

5. Season with the vinegar, lemon juice, garlic, salt, pepper, and sugar, if using. Simmer for 15 minutes. Serve with toppings if you like.

*If you use meat with bones, double the weight.

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Posted by Dan Shaw on 02/23/11 at 04:02 PM • Permalink

Antique Apples: Montgomery Place Orchards’ Pie Contest

By Kathryn Matthews

Double crust or crumb top?  A lard, shortening or butter crust?  Wolf River, Ananas Reinette, or Hudson’s Golden Gem?  These were among the tough decisions that contestants in Montgomery Place Orchards’ sixth annual apple pie contest had to make.

Not to mention: a panel of pie lovers, who have been recruited as judges, can be an opinionated, fickle lot.  One man’s slice of pie heaven is what another might slip to the dog. 

Yet, hope springs eternal.  On Saturday, October 16th, I set my apple pie (#13) alongside 32 other pie hopefuls on a long table inside the Montgomery Place Orchards farm stand in Annandale, while spectators and fellow-contestants milled about in anticipation of the results. 

My competition included veteran pie bakers, such as Judy Foote (right), 70, a retired accountant in Red Hook who has been baking pies for 50 years.  “I baked 15 pies for my son’s wedding, and we never got to the wedding cake,” she confided, adding that she has also given “pie seminars” to two daughter-in-laws, various friends and former co-workers. 

There were veteran contestants, too, like Rhinebeck lawyer Lisa Rosenthal, 50, competing in her fourth Montgomery Place pie contest.  “I didn’t want the pressure of defending my title,” said Rosenthal, who won first prize for her double crust pie last year.  Instead, she switched categories and entered two different crumb top pies, determined not to leave empty-handed. 

Pie contests can spark friendly competition within families.  The Rhinecliff Hotel’s executive chef, Brian Kaywork (left), 36, won first prize for his Crumb Top pie last year.  This year, he tried his luck in the Double Crust category, where he competed against his mother-in-law, Vickie Lieb.

Four members of the close-knit Lowney-Dipper clan were also participants: Michelle Lowney (who has won a red ribbon for her crust) and her nine-year-old daughter Elizabeth of Red Hook each entered a pie.  So did Lowney’s mother, Debbie Dipper, and her sister-in-law, Laura Dipper, of Elizaville.  “My sister-in-law Laura was the first contestant; it snowballed from there!” said Lowney.

The pie contest was, in large part, a celebration of antique apples.

Talea and Doug Fincke (right), who have been growing fruit—and some produce—on 40 acres at Montgomery Place Orchards since 1986, also run its popular farm stand.  (Historic Hudson owns the land that they farm and all buildings on the property, including the stand.).  The couple’s son Adam, 21, and daughter Caroline, 23, pitch in, too.

The Finckes grow over 60 varieties of apples.  Locally, they’re famous for their antique apples—heritage varieties that are obscure or non-commercial—that they began planting eight years ago.  Come fall, they now harvest over 20 different varieties of antique apples, some with poetic names like Black Twig, Hidden Rose and Coe’s Golden Drop, as well as two of Thomas Jefferson’s favorite varieties, Newtown Pippin (of early 1700s Long Island origin), and Esopus Spitzenburg, first grown in Ulster County, New York, in the late 1700s.  “We work on a historic farm, and we wanted to grow historic apples that Doug could also use to make hard cider,” explained Talea.  Between September and November, five or six varieties of antique apples are usually available at any one time at the farm stand.

The contest began in 2004 as a fun, hands-on way for customers to learn about different heritage apples and which ones are best for pies.  Pie contestants must use apples from Montgomery Place orchards, and when they sign up, they receive a half-peck of apples (their choice, a mix of varieties is permissible) from the Finckes for the competition. 

There were two categories of pies:  Crumb Top and Double Crust.  Prizes, which included a $75 gift certificate to Mercato Osteria Enoteca in Red Hook; a $50 gift certificate to the Rhinecliff Hotel; and a $25 gift certificate to Warren Cutlery, were awarded to the top three winners in each category.  The best part: after the winners are announced, the contest turns into an all-you-can-eat pie buffet for spectators and contestants alike!

Every year, the Finckes recruit judges based on a specific theme.  Past panels have been comprised of chefs, pastry chefs, grandmothers, “Titans” (men over 300 pounds!) and local farmers.  This year, the six judges—expected to “defend” their top pie picks—were all lawyers: Red Hook Town Councilman Bill O’Neill; Attorney for the Town of Red Hook Christine Chale; Kelly Mosher, Angela Lore and Kelly Flood-Myers, three Red Hook-based lawyers, and Barrytown weekender David Schulz of Levine, Sullivan, Koch and Schulz in Manhattan.  “Not one single person turned me down for the job!” said Talea.

After deciding to enter an all-antique apple pie in the double-crust category, I chose three heritage varieties: Northern Spy (a New York heirloom from the 1840s, which has been grown at Montgomery Place Orchards for over a century); Baldwin (of Massachusetts origin, circa 1740); and Cox’s Orange Pippin (England’s favorite dessert apple, discovered there in the early 1800s as a chance seedling).

My practice “test pie”, sampled by various friends, had been well-received, bolstering my confidence that the flavor of my 100% antique apple pie would hold its own.

Unfortunately, even the best-laid plans can go awry.

As I prepared to roll out my pie dough (all-butter crusts rule!) the Friday evening before the contest, I realized, in a moment of panic-stricken horror, that I had left my “lucky”—and only—pie plate back in the City.  It was late.  All stores were closed.  Frantic, I called my neighbor, Nancy, rousing her from a deep slumber.  She came to my rescue, kindly lending me her pie plate.

Turns out: it was ceramic and shallower than my glass pie plate.  Type A anxiety engulfed me.  How much longer would it take the pie to bake in a ceramic pie plate?  How would I be able to tell if the crust was truly done?  What if my apple filling didn’t fit?

Well, beggars can’t be choosers.  I had no choice but to adjust.  I rolled out and filled my pie, and slid it into the oven. 

Just as the oven door snapped shut, I remembered—too late—that I should have added bits of butter to my apple filling before sealing the top crust.

Jinxed!  I could only hope that my combination of antique apples would carry the day.

So, what were the judges looking for?  As the results were being tabulated (three contestants with the highest overall scores in each category would receive prizes), I cornered two judges for answers.

“There’s a big difference between a good-looking pie and a good-tasting pie,” said David Schulz, who, after sampling 19 pies in the double crust category, noted that the best looking pies often disappointed in the taste department.  His criteria?  “I want to taste the apples—not a whole lot of other ‘stuff’.  I like the apples to retain their shape and their texture—I don’t care for applesauce in a crust.  And, very important: I like a flaky crust.”

Asked about the biggest challenge in judging 14 crumb tops, Christine Chale replied: “What challenge?  I was eating pie!”  Still, she has her gold standard for crumb tops: the flavor of the apple should shine through; the filling should retain its shape but not be chewy; the pastry should not be soggy;  and the topping should be crispy and not too thick.  Go light on the cinnamon and hold the exotic spices (like anise) and added flavorings.

After 2 p.m., Talea announced the results.  Nine-year-old Elizabeth Lowney (right) won first prize in the crumb top category.  And, with a squeal of delight, Vickie Lieb accepted first prize for her double crust pie; she had bested Kaywork, her chef son-in law (who did not place this year).

For her diligent, two pie baking efforts, Lisa Rosenthal was rewarded with third prize in the Crumb Top category.  The crumb top recipe that she used from Rose Levy Beranbaum’s Pie and Pastry Bible beat out the crumb top she made from Classic Home Desserts by Richard Sax.  The difference?  Her winning crumb top had a moister topping (melted butter, flour, brown sugar, ground walnuts and cinnamon) and a cream cheese-and-butter crust.

As for my pie?  Other than adding two additional antique apple varieties (last year, I used only Northern Spy), I entered the exact same apple pie as last year—lightly spiced with fresh ginger and a hint of cardamom.  In 2009, I won a red ribbon for “best filling”.  This year: nada.

Not that I’m complaining: taste is subjective.

Congratulations to the winners!

Montgomery Place Orchards Farm Market
Route 9G (near the intersection of Rt 199)
Annandale-on-Hudson
845.758.6338
Through October; Tuesday - Sunday: 9 a.m. - 6 p.m.; closed Mondays
November 1 - 24, Thursday - Sunday: 9 a.m. - 5 p.m.

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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 10/25/10 at 06:46 PM • Permalink

Vickie Lieb’s 2010 Blue Ribbon Double-Crust Apple Pie

by Kathryn Matthews

Lieb says her prize-winning double crust apple pie is based on an old Pillsbury recipe that she has modified through the years.
 
For the crust:
3 cups flour
2 sticks butter
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup water
 
Combine flour, butter and salt until pea-sized clumps form.  Add water, blending ingredients just until dough just forms.  Do not overmix Chill dough for at least 1 hour.
 
For the filling:
3/4 c granulated (white) sugar
1/4 c brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons flour
4 Jonagold apples, peeled, cored and sliced
4 Northern Spy apples, peeled, cored and sliced
1 tablespoon lemon juice
2 tablespoons butter
 
For the egg wash:
1 egg yolk
2 tablespoons milk

Combine the sugars, cinnamon, salt and flour in a mixing bowl.  Arrange apples in layers in pastry-lined pie pan, sprinkling cinnamon-sugar mixture over each layer.  Sprinkle with lemon juice.  Dot with 2 tablespoons of butter.  Place top crust on pie over filling.  Flute edges.  Using a sharp knife, gently create slits in the top crust to allow steam to escape.

Beat eggs and milk to combine. Brush on pie crust. 

Sprinkle white sugar crystals on top for decoration.

Bake at 450° for 10 minutes, then at 375° for 40 minutes, or until apples are tender when pierced with a fork.

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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 10/24/10 at 06:49 PM • Permalink

Pie Wisdom from a Pro

By Kathryn Matthews
 
If you want to dazzle family with a home-baked pie—apple, or otherwise—but, you’re a neophyte baker, or, you think that your best pie could be (much) better, take heart.  Baker extraordinaire and owner of Tivoli Bread & Baking Company Mikel Gonnella, who also sells his popular multigrain bread and baguettes at Montgomery Place farm stand, offers these pie-making tips.
 
The Crust:
 
Gonnella, who has judged a few pies in his time, knows what pie crust for a double crust pie should NOT be: Gummy.  Dry.  Burnt.  Raw. “Tented”—with dead air space between the cooked filling and the crust.
 
Instead, aim for a crust that is flaky in texture, tastes like butter, and a top crust that rests nicely over the cooked filling.
 
How to get there:
 
•Butter (unsalted) is best. 
When it comes to pie crust, Gonnella advises using straight butter: “To me, a pie crust is all about the butter.”  Crisco is a no-no.  “I don’t like what it is, and I don’t care for the end result,” he said.  For “hard-core pork fanatics”, Gonnella gives a reluctant go-ahead to use lard.  “Personally, I don’t use lard because I can always taste it in the dough”.
 
•Use good butter.
“You want to be able to taste the butter in a crust—so make it a quality, flavorful, unsalted butter,” says Gonnella, who uses Cabot at the bakery.
 
•Keep butter cold—as much as possible. 
For best results, use cold butter, work with it quickly—and in cool conditions.  For example, don’t attempt to make a butter pie crust on top of an oven set on “broil”!  And it’s best to make your pie crust early in the morning, when it’s cooler.  “You don’t want the butter to start melting as you’re working with it,” says Gonnella.
 
•Add a little sugar.
Yes, Gonnella adds a little sugar—about 2 teaspoons—to his pie dough, which he says, lends it a nice color.
 
•Don’t overmix the dough
To avoid overmixing the dough, Gonnellao makes his pie dough in two steps. 
 
First, he breaks up the butter, combining it with flour, sugar and salt in a standing mixer, which he favors.  If you don’t have one, use a pastry blender.  A food processor is okay to use, but, be aware that, its high speed makes it is easy to overmix the dough within a few seconds, says Gonella, who advises pulsing ingredients for no more than 15 seconds. 
 
Blend dough until moist clumps, the size of small peas, forms.
 
Then, transfer dough to a large mixing bowl.  Add half the water. Rake the dough with your fingers, going underneath and flipping it over to gently fold in the water.  The goal is to get the dough to stick together, says Gonnella.  Once it does, press into an inch-thick disk, about 4-5 inches in diameter.  Wrap well in plastic wrap.  Refrigerate for up to a week.  Freeze up to three months.
 
The Filling
 
•Less is more. 
“I like to make fruit pie filling with as few ingredients as possible because tasting the fruit, itself, is the point.  My filling will usually include seasonal fruit, sugar and a thickener, like flour (for an apple pie) or minute tapioca (for a cherry pie).  If it’s an apple pie, Gonnella advises, “start with good apples, a little sugar and a little cinnamon—that’s all you need.”
 
•Use a diverse mix of apples
Gonnella advises uses at least 2 to 3 varieties—ideally, 4 to 5 varieties—of apples for pie filling.  “This way, you’re not banking the success of that pie on just one apple, which might retain a hard crunchiness, or cook too soft.  Try mixing good pie apples, like a sweet-tasting Cortland and Northern Spy, with tarter heirloom varieties.
 
•Sugar in moderation
Taste your apples.  Sweet apples require less sugar; tart or sour apples, more.  “You could get away with 1/2 cup sugar with sweet-tasting apples, but you may need up to 1 cup sugar if the apples are very tart or slightly sour,” says Gonnella.
 
•Thicken with flour and butter
How much flour to use is a judgment call, says Gonella: “If my apple pie filling is really wet, I’ll use 3-4 tablespoons of flour; if it’s drier, I’ll use less.  Then I drizzle on half that amount in melted butter before I put on the top crust.”
 
•Easy on the spices.
“I’m not looking for garam masala—or any other exotic spice blends—in my apple pie.  An apple pie has a standard to uphold; it should taste like an apple pie,” says Gonnella.

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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 10/23/10 at 06:26 PM • Permalink

Smashed Potatoes & Celery Root with Chive Butter

Knobby celery root doesn’t look like a vegetable to cuddle up to, which is why most Americans don’t cook it (and why CSA members often leave it behind when they make their pickups.) But scratch its skin for an earthy aroma that’s celery-like with a distinctive edge. When classically paired with ordinary potatoes, it elevates both vegetables, so that together they become something more than either alone. Note: If you’re a vegan or down on butter, use olive oil instead. —Amy Cotler, The Locavore Way: Discover and Enjoy the Pleasures of Locally Grown Food

Smashed Potatoes & Celery Root with Chive Butter
Serves about 6

Ingredients

1/3 cup butter
1/2 bunch of chives, chopped
Salt
3 pounds baking potatoes (about 6), such as russet, peeled and cut into eighths
1 small celery root (about 1 pound), peeled well and cut into ½-inch pieces
½ cup milk, chicken broth, or vegetable broth + more if needed
Freshly ground pepper

1. Melt the butter and add most of the chives and a generous pinch of salt. Reserve the extra chives and keep the butter warm over a very low flame.

2. Fill a large saucepan with about 1½ inches of water, inserting a steamer if you have one. Add potatoes and celery root. Bring the water to a boil. Cover tightly, turn down to a simmer, and cook until the vegetables are soft, about 25 minutes.

3. Drain the vegetables and place in a large bowl, preferably warm, or right in the pot. Use a potato masher to smash them, adding about 2 tablespoons of the butter, and stirring in the milk to reach the desired level of mositure. If you don’t have a masher, fear not — you can make do with a large spoon or standing mixer. Do not use a food processor, however; it will make the vegetables gummy. Season with generous amounts of salt and pepper to taste. Blend until well combined but a little lumpy. (Or if you’re a purist like my husband, blend until smooth.)

4. Mound the vegetables into the bowl or serving dish.  Drizzle with as much or as little of the chive butter as you like. Sprinkle with reserved chives. Serve immediately.

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Posted by Dan Shaw on 10/20/10 at 09:45 PM • Permalink

Baked Peaches or Pears with Ginger Snaps and Chocolate

 
Local peaches and pears are in. Eat them out of hand until you can’t stand it. Today I stuffed them with ginger cookies, almonds and chocolate. They barely made it to the fridge, but they’re good warm or cold.—Amy Cotler, author of

The Locavore Way, Discover and Enjoy the Pleasures of Locally Grown Food
 
 
1 ounce ginger snap cookies (5 small, 4 large)
2 tablespoons sliced almonds
1 tablespoon dark chocolate chips or grated chocolate
1 tablespoon brandy or cognac
1 tablespoon sugar
1 egg yolk (small egg, if possible)
2 firm-ripe pears or peaches (cling free peaches*)
1 teaspoon butter, optional

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

2. Pulse cookies, almonds and chocolate in the food processor until they are crumb sized. (Don’t over process. Better too large than too small.) Transfer to a small bowl and add the rum, sugar and egg yolk. Mix thoroughly.

3. For peaches, cut them in half and remove the pits. For pears, cut them in half lengthwise; scoop out the core with a spoon. To make room for the filling, scoop out about a tablespoon at the center of peach or pear half. Finely chop the scooped out flesh and add to the ginger-chocolate mixture. Spoon a little of the filling into each half. Then top each with the optional butter, either chopped or shaved thin.

4. Place stuffed fruit in an oven-proof dish and bake for 45 minutes or until the filling firms up and forms a crust. Let cool. Transfer to a serving dish.

*Late season peaches are usually cling-free, meaning that you can cut around the pit and pull the two halves apart easily.
 
Today’s Personal Produce Rant
Eat produce for its flavor, not its caché. At least in principle, no one is opposed to biodiversity, but I have a pet peeve about the growing popularity of varieties that don’t cut the mustard. (Especially when old favorites are fneglected.) Give me GREEN beans like meaty Roma varieties. Like white asparagus, yellow beans miss the point—we like them for their green beany flavor.

Seedless watermelon, don’t get me started—all sweet, no watermelon flavor. The same for super-sweet corn, which isn’t corny enough for my taste. Instead, savor heirloom varieties right after they are picked, but before they turn to starch. (Supersweet doesn’t get starchy, because it’s designed to get sweeter over time, but tastes like saccharrin.) And, while fashionable white peaches are excellent for their subtlety, where’s their acidic bite? Gone flat. Yellow tomatoes have less acid, true, and some are extraordinary, I agree, but a good Brandywine screams, “I’m red, ripe, and have swallowed the sun!
 
Know Your Farmer

We’ve got a long road ahead of us, as big-agribusiness still rules the roost. But this excellent website is packed with good information tipping us in the right direction, including a September 14 article, Scientists Agree: Toward Sustainable Agriculture Systems in the 21st Century. (Took ‘em long enough!)

This website recognizes the importance of regional food systems with direct farm to consumer sales, and that’s good news for us all. Direct sales have increased from $551 million in 1997 to $1.2 billion in 2007, with Massachusetts leading the way. These kinds of sales—in CSAs, farm stands and farmers markets—are about relationships between people, not corporations, and that builds more humane communities. Direct sales also leave more dough in farmers’ hands and fresher food on consumer’ tables. They also boost local economies, because food dollars stay close home, rather than being shipped out to corporate headquarters. All good.

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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 09/29/10 at 10:15 AM • Permalink

Surprise Red Pepper Soup

This intense soup combines the local harvest and eastern seasonings with a touch of butter to round them them all out. It’s terrific eaten immediately with crusty bread—I couldn’t help myself—but radically better the next day. Serve for lunch or as a first course, rather than as a soup entree. Triple the recipe to thaw when the ground is rock hard and the world is white. See variations below, including a cold version, which is excellent Indian summer fare, and the one pictured here, with cooked corn shaved right off the cob into the soup. (You’ll love how the kernels break apart in your mouth.) Serves 4.—Amy Cotler, author of The Locavore Way, Discover and Enjoy the Pleasures of Locally Grown Food

2 red bell peppers
1 cup peeled and chopped ripe tomatoes (1 huge, 2 medium)
1-1/2 tablespoons unsweetened butter
1 small diced onion
1/4 of a seeded and minced jalapeño
1-1/2 teaspoons coarsely grated fresh ginger
2 garlic cloves, minced
2 tablespoons fermented black beans, unwashed
2 cups chicken broth
1 tablespoon sugar
Chopped cilantro and/or sliced scallion er

1. Roast the peppers on the stove top, on a grill or under a broiler. Cook them whole, over high heat, turning them as needed until they are completely blacked, 3-7 minutes. Transfer to a small bowl and let stand, well covered, until cool enough to handle. Remove tops, peel and seeds. Chop and reserve.

2. Drop the tomatoes into a pot of boiling water for about 5-10 seconds. Remove with a slotted spoon. When cool enough to handle, slip off the skin(s). Slice in half and discard seeds. Chop. You should us 1 packed up of chopped tomato with juice.

3. Heat butter in a medium pot over low heat. Add the onion, jalapeño, ginger, garlic and cook, stirring occasionally until the garlic is aromatic but not browned, 2-3 minutes.

4. Add the fermented black beans, peppers, tomatoes and 1 cup of the chicken broth. Simmer for 10 minutes and then puree in the food processor or with an immersion blender. Add the remaining 1 cup stock and simmer for an addition 10 minutes to marry the flavors. Add the sugar and taste. If you used homemade chicken broth you may need salt.

5. Serve warm, sprinkled with cilantro and/or scallion greens or see the variations below.

Variations:
Garnish with corn: Shave the kernels off 2 cooked ears of cooked corn right into the soup. 

Serve cold, using a flavorless oil instead of butter.

Add 2 - 3 tablespoons of warm orzo to the center of each bowl before sprinkling with herbs.

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Posted by Marilyn Bethany on 09/22/10 at 08:08 AM • Permalink

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