Category: Food

Garden to Table

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Summer garden bhaji is what I decided to make with my friend Meg’s gift of fresh veggies this week. A bhaji is basically a stir fry of shredded vegetables with turmeric, onions and other spices ( if desired). Meg’s garden bhaji was a combination of cabbage, green peppers and okra. I added the juicy red cherry tomatoes to a dry shrimp sauté. Some simple dal, lentil soup and rice complete deshi dinner night. Stir fry or bhaji is an easy solution to having little bits of a variety of vegetables.  A good wok is worth having in a busy kitchen. Mine just lives on my stove. This garden to table dinner is a product of west Lafayette, good friends who garden, south Asian cooking techniques and spices. Its a dinner that reminds me of my friend down the street with her bountiful garden, my Bhabi (sister-in-law) who first  taught me how to make a bhaji, my baby girl’s craving for “home food,” my southern-raised beloved’s request for dal and how I need to make this for my vegetarian, Indian-food aware friend, Kathy.  Food is magic in its ability to bring such diversity together, just like a mixed vegetable bhaji. 

Who inspires your dinner plate tonight?

Diapers, Chickens and Smart- Hard Design Thinking

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Chef Gabrielle Hamilton of Prune, writes in Blood, Bones and Butter of how running a restaurant prepared her for parenthood,

“I thought of telling them how changing a diaper reminds me, every time, of trussing a chicken. How sleepless nights and long grueling hours under intense physical discomfort were already part of my daily routine long before I had children. How labeling every school lunch bag, granola bar, juice box, extra sweater, and nap blanket with permanent Sharpie is like what we’ve been doing every day for thirty years, labeling the foods in our walk-ins. How being the chef and owner of a restaurant means you already by definition, mastered the idea of “systems,” “routines,” and “protocols” so that everyone who works for you can work smart-hard rather than work stupid-hard. So that by the time you are setting up your household and preparing yourself for adding children, you have a tendency toward this kind of order, logic and efficiency.”

This is a good description of design thinking across seemingly unrelated activities: parenting and running a restaurant. It also describes how working prepares us to parent rather than the other way around. I so enjoy her vivid imagery and hyphenated characterizations like, long herbal-tea-soaked conversations of “spirituality.” It is worth reading as a full course or in small bites of sentence fragments to be washed down with our own food memories. She describes such a rushed and gritty culinary education coupled with an equally elegant and comforting childhood. She lives in at least two worlds simultaneously: the spinning world of the ferociously hungry traveler and the opulent world of the aesthete. I’d like to eat at her restaurant, Prune and taste both worlds. Here are a few sentences from the chapter describing her restaurant philosophy,

“To be picked up and fed, often by strangers, when you are in that state of fear and hunger, became the single most important and convincing food experience I came back to over and over, that sunny afternoon humming around my apartment, wondering how I might translate such an experience into the restaurant I was now sure I was about to open down the block.”

further on she describes the table atmosphere in detail that would make her stage designer father beam with pride,

“There would be no foam and no “conceptual” or “intellectual” food; just the salty, sweet, starchy, brothy, crispy things that one craves when one is actually hungry. There would be nothing tall on the plate, the portions would be generous, there would be no emulsions, no crab cocktail served in a martini glass with its claw hanging over the rim. In ecstatic farewell to my years of corporate catering, we would never serve anything but a martini in a martini glass. Preferably gin.”

I clap with glee at the irony of her profoundly intellectual, anti-intellectualism. What a designer!

Eating Well = Living Well

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“Let’s all stop a moment in our busy day and return to some eternal verities. It’s quite a mystery, albeit largely unacknowledged, to be alive, and quite simply, in order to remain alive you must keep eating. My notion, scarcely original, is that if you eat badly you are very probably living badly. You tend to eat badly when you become inattentive to all but the immediate economic necessities, real or imagined, and food becomes an abstraction; you merely “fill-up” in the manner that you fill a car with gasoline, no matter that some fey grease slinger has put raspberry puree on your pen-raised venison. You are still a nitwit bent over a trough.”

One of my favorite quotes from:

Jim Harrison, The Raw and The Cooked: Adventures of a Roving Gourmand, New York: Grove Press Books, p. 29.

Cover Image from Amazon.com

Ohhhhhhkra! Two ways.

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Who knew okra flowers were so stunningly beautiful! Apparently everyone who grows them. This beauty is from my super-gardener father-in-law, Dennis’ garden. I know…. okra can be sticky, fuzzy, and slimy when cooked. But somehow the beauty of the flowers helps me forgive those small okra vices. Not only did I get to marvel at the beauty of Dennis’ garden (which also included green beans, corn, peppers, eggplant and my favorite…. Tomatoes), I was also happy to receive the gifts of those blossoms. This is not fancy and abstract “farm to table” restaurant cooking. This is messy, personal and beautiful home garden cooking. My equally super-canner mother-in-law, Rachel, transforms the summer garden into bags of frozen fried okra, salsa, pepper jelly, creamed corn and more to enjoy year round. What a gift! Thank you, both for sharing the love, beauty and deliciousness of your garden. 

What to do when given a basket of goodies? I searched for recipes, of course! As you know, my fellow eaters, so much is out there. Most, very good. In the end, I didn’t want to take attention away from the okra experience by focusing on a new recipe. You know what it’s like….nervously shifting back and forth between screen and actuality, measuring, gauging, checking the images (like a correspondence theory of truth, hoping to match an idea with a reality, …..Very unsatisfying).

Instead, I decided to make two versions. My childhood version of okra, my mom’s favorite, Bengali bhaji, which basically means sautéed thinly sliced vegetables with sliced onions, tumeric, salt, chili peppers and other spices if desired. We had the okra bhaji with rice, salmon tikka (a south Asian version of bbq spice) and light a sweet and spicy tomato sauce ( made from garden tomatoes). I sent a picture of the dinner to my mom. She approved.

I also made fried okra to freeze, my new favorite. Did not turn out as yummy as Rachel’s, despite her gracious efforts to explain the process. Still very good. I cut the pieces a bit larger and added hot sauce to the buttermilk. I am concerned that the crispy bites will not make it to a freezer bag. Fried fish and okra is beginning to sound good for dinner tonight. 

What are your garden-cooking stories? Do gardeners cook differently from non-gardeners? Maybe they demonstrate an object oriented practice, by which the vegetables are not just ingredients but ways to absorb a beautiful and bountiful summer. It is magical, to be able to eat the experience of summer in the dead of winter, isn’t it? Or now…gotta go…time for dinner.

Wishing you happy summer eating or eating summer,

Hungryphil

Dear Meg, my friend who asked for the recipe. I just cut the okra in bite size pieces, soaked them in buttermilk, hot sauce, salt and pepper, as desired. Shake off excess. Coat with a cornmeal and flour mixture. Shake off excess flour. Fry in oil. Enjoy!

Food Poem – Short-Order Cook by Jim Daniels

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An average joe comes in
and orders thirty cheeseburgers and thirty fries.
I wait for him to pay before I start cooking.

He pays.
He ain’t no average joe.

The grill is just big enough for ten rows of three.
I slap the burgers down
throw two buckets of fries in the deep frier
and they pop pop spit spit…
psss…
The counter girls laugh.
I concentrate.
It is the crucial point—
They are ready for the cheese:
my fingers shake as I tear off slices
toss them on the burgers/fries done/dump/
refill buckets/burgers ready/flip into buns/
beat that melting cheese/wrap burgers in plastic/
into paper bags/fries done/dump/fill thirty bags/
bring them to the counter/wipe sweat on sleeve
and smile at the counter girls.
I puff my chest out and bellow:
“Thirty cheeseburgers, thirty fries!”
They look at me funny.
I grab a handful of ice, toss it in my mouth
do a little dance and walk back to the grill.
Pressure, responsibility, success,
thirty cheeseburgers, thirty fries.

“Short-order Cook” by Jim Daniels from Places/Everyone. © The University of Wisconsin Press, 1985.

From the Writer’s Almanac:   http://writersalmanac.org/page/4/

Life is like a bowl of blueberries

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Our local Prelock Blueberry Farm includes us in the growth of the blueberries by keeping us posted through facebook and other media outlets.  After much anticipation, this year the farm officially opened it’s gate July 6th. http://www.prelockblueberryfarm.com/

This is quite a cause for celebration. Nothing comes close to the taste of fresh off the vine fruit warmed by the sun accompanied by girly giggles. This is also as close as I come to actually participating in a “farm to table” experience. The pie we baked yesterday evening was made of blueberries alive just two hours prior to being enjoyed in the basement against the blaring sounds of tornado sirens, thunder and lightning. In the context of American supermarkets and international produce, this seems almost magical. It is not without irony that the store bought pie crust just crumbled to pieces and gently forced me to make a homemade pie crust. I know, I know…..pie crust is very easy…what am I doing buying processed pie crust anyway….bad hungry philosopher. Point taken. Ava and Lucy picked the blueberries, Jim carefully inspected the 10 pounds of blueberries for stems and bugs, I made the pie and some blueberry sauce. It was a shared process of production and consumption. A rare event in our household. Even Lucy our picky eater announced that the pie was “pretty good.” Yes….it was a magical event indeed.

Now I’m going to ruin this heartwarming story with a bit of philosophical analysis. What made the destruction and consumption of these tiny blue globes, delicious to human, bears and birds alike, so enjoyable? What is the difference between a carton of blueberries picked at our local Payless and a bucket of blueberries picked at our local Prelock Blueberry farm? The answer is worth a long discussion that ranges from skill, atmosphere, process, beauty, labor, taste etc. All gardeners and farmers answer this easily…..the love, understanding and effort, makes it different of course. Somehow, in knowing more we enjoy it more ( as all efforts to “cultivate taste” argue). Investment and knowledge increases appreciation and by extension pleasure. Considered consumption. Slow design proponent Alistair Fuad-luke calls this “reflective consumption.” We killed the blueberries but also gave them a glorious funeral. Hmmmm….that’s a bit of a downer. The point maybe that being invested in the process makes us “care” more. Slow food and farm to table efforts try to capture this pleasure of caring to various degrees of success. Makes me think of how philosopher Hannah Arendt defended the pleasure of the mind or Aristotle defended the pleasure of the good. My explanation of last evening’s blueberry pie may require a dissertation.  So I’ll stop now and ask you……… Why do you go to pick-your-own farms, be it apples, strawberries or blueberries?

Blueberry pie recipe from TidyMom:

http://tidymom.net/2012/rustic-blueberry-pie/

Boil, Steam, Eat – no recipe required 

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 This year we celebrated the American Declaration of Independence on July 4th with the simplicity of steamed and boiled seafood. A deviation from our usual BBQ chicken and accompaniments, but well worth it! Aside from the seafood, corn and potatoes we had melted butter, ghee, sweet rolls and sweet tea on the table. It was fun, messy, steamy, decadent and delicious.

Frankly, I think the kids would’ve been happier without the old bay seasoning. I, on the hand, had to resist the urge to make a curry with the crab legs. Hmmm… Now that I think about it…. Maybe a few curry dipping sauces next year? Simplicity is difficult.

If you’re in the U.S, I hope you had a delicious and bright holiday too!

Baking Experiment: Elvis Pound Cake

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Its the cup of heavy cream that makes this pound cake so moist. The extra whipping of the eggs, sugar and cream doesn’t hurt either. It was a fun and very easy recipe to make. Tastes, fantastic! Sweet crust, smooth light texture and very buttery. Very highly rated and reviewed. Only seven ingredients: sugar, eggs, cream, flour, butter, vanilla and salt. Makes two loafs. I’m looking forward to layering my leftovers with strawberries and whipped cream.

http://www.saveur.com/article/Recipes/Classic-Elvis-Pound-Cake

Food Poem- Grandma Shorba’s Ragamuffin Stew by Freya Manfred

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During World War II, Grandma Shorba
handed plates of bread and meat to strangers
who asked for work in exchange for food.
After chopping wood and mending fences,
the lean, stoop-shouldered men went on their way.
“May God watch over them,” Grandma said.

I was glad I didn’t have to follow them
down the long train tracks silvering west.
I didn’t want to sleep beside a strange campfire
around the bend, in the next world.
But I worried how they’d survive, and asked
my parents if they could live with us.

My begging only made everyone nervous.
Maybe Grandma’s stories of The Good Samaritan
and the Loaves and Fishes weren’t true?
If I’d been in charge, I’d have asked those men to stay—
but Gramma, who trusted God,
fed them, then sent them on their way.

“Grandma Shorba’s Ragamuffin Stew” by Freya Manfred from Speak, Mother. © Red Dragonfly Press, 2015.

From the Writer’s Almanac, June 10, 2015

http://writersalmanac.org/

Tasting Milwaukee (Summer 2015)

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Dear Milwaukee,

I apologize for having given you little thought except for being the backdrop for That Seventies Show (and also, Laverne and Shirley and Happy Days). You are much more than a stage prop. You are quirky, obsessive and gritty with style. Your passion for the fermented and the fast is unparalleled.

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http://www.safe-house.com/mainmenu.html

My ode to you appropriately begins with the Safe House, one of the many hidden oddities of the city celebrated on the television show Man finds food. The lack of blaring signage was refreshing. I’m not supposed to reveal the location or the password since that would rob visitors of the fun. We had delicious burgers and fries, as well as a Wisconsin cheese plate to start.

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http://www.thepfisterhotel.com/

Oh the Pfister Hotel, you made me feel like a princess with your lavishly ornate 1893 flair throughout. You were gracious and charming without a hint of snooty ostentation. I felt welcomed in my road-trip casual clothing despite being surrounded by bridal party glamor and beauty. The 23rd floor lounge with it’s morning breakfast buffet and dainty afternoon snacks was a wonderful “fancy but absent mom’s living room” to plot, plan and chill between explorations.

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http://mam.org/

Thank you, thank you, thank you for inviting Spanish architect Santiago Calatrava to design your art museum. It is magnificent. When we first arrived we saw the atrium filled with yogis through the locked doors. It gave us time to walk around the building and enjoy how perfectly sited it is. Anchored yet moving. It conjures images of a sailboat, wings, fish fins, bones, scales and more. Witnessing the fountains spring and the wings open when the museum did officially open was just magical. To see the sailboat transform into a seagull was an experience I will fondly and gently hold for a very long time. Thank you, Milwaukee.

http://www.lakefrontbrewery.com/

Then there was lunch (salad and fried fish) at the Lakefront Brewery perched on bar stools ON the lakefront followed by the most comedic learning experience in the form of a tour. I learned more about beer than I ever wanted to know that included the sex life of yeast. Katy, the tour guide, channeled her middle school teaching experience very well in managing a group of avid beer connoisseurs (many of whom were on their third brewery tour for the day!). TripAdvisor.com ranks this as the number one tourist attraction in Milwaukee. Yes, Milwaukee I admire your deep obsession with fermentation.

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A stroll through the historic third ward and the Public Market was worth all the smells and sights. And gave us space to walk off our lunch and get ready for dinner.

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http://braiselocalfood.com/

B…r…a…i…s….e………….I say with the same longing that I speak my husband’s name. Braise lured us in with it’s promise to deliver Wisconsin on a plate. And, oh my, did it. It felt wrong to corrode and objectify the experience by whipping out an iphone. Sorry, no pictures. Again, I learned a lot, tasted new flavors…like smoked trout on a Johnny cake, tea soaked chicken, rhubarb-radish granita, golden beet salad….so much more. Chef Swanson’s pairing of bright and velvety flavors marked every dish. Not the most exciting or inviting part of town but sure was worth seeking out. As I said, you are a city with marvelous hidden secrets.

There is no way to top a dinner at Braise. So, back to our cloud soft bed at the Pfister to conclude day one in Milwaukee.

Day two began with coffee at the Pfister lounge. I am told they have a lovely Sunday brunch as well. At the time we were still recovering from your gastronomic generosity the day before, dear Milwaukee.

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http://www.harley-davidson.com/content/h-d/en_US/home/museum.html

We spent the morning at the Harley Davidson Museum’s celebration of beautiful speed. I found my new hero there. In 1929, in order to prove girls can ride too, Vivian Bales rode her motorcycle from Albany, Georgia to the Harley Davidson headquarters in Milwaukee. Just amazing (and humbling). Where is my passion, I demand! I want to be “The Eater Girl” or ah…yes….”The Hungry Philosopher.” Somehow this doesn’t sound as inspiring. I’ll have to think on it. Suggestions?

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http://www.coquettecafe.com/

Back to the Historic Third Ward for lunch at the Coquette Café. We took advantage of downtown dining week and enjoyed a three-course menu. The leek-potato soup was the best I’ve ever had.

http://www.pabstmansion.com/

We completed our visit with a tour of the Pabst Mansion. An eccentric mansion in style, very consistent with the general “do your own thing” vibe of Milwaukee. The house combines nautical and beer making themes. What a town!

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Our last stop as we drove back to Indiana was at the Cheese Castle. Our trip just wouldn’t be complete without purchasing a cheese head and various Wisconsin cheeses.  Tourist traps exist for a reason. We willingly walk into them. I am not ashamed. I have cheese to eat tonight and to remember the wonderful time I had visiting you, dear Milwaukee.

Thank you for your hospitality and your artful love of the rotten and the odd.

Yours truly,

Hungryphil

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And, a BIG thank you to Jim (as reflected on the Museum entrance) for being the best travel partner and willing photographer ever. Exploring wouldn’t be as fun if not for all the people we’ve met together along with way (even the disoriented person who almost hit our car!).

Thank you to all the online advisers… food network, trip adviser, Yelp and more.

Thank you to my car, Clementine, wonderful weather on Saturday, weekends, summers and all the little and big things that make adventures of learning and sharing like this possible.

I wish my fellow hungry philosophers many happy tastes of summer! Thank you for being a sweet part of mine. And your willingness to read this!