Still Gasping

So, I'm behind on this series. Shocking. I thought it was a bit ambitious from the beginning. I mean, there's a lot of the summer to cram into only a few days, so not only did I have to cook, but I also had to go to the beach, complain about my mosquito bites, drink summer wines with friends, curse my bathing suit, provide support when the husband nearly passed out blowing up not one but two kiddie pools, etc.

But these past couple days were like a little fall preview. It's cooler. I noticed that leaves were already falling out in the suburbs. The air smells different (although that could be Newtown Creek). It made me anxious. And I think that a lot of other people were anxious too. Just yesterday, yesterday, I saw some sweet woman frantically trying to find a nice ear of corn in a small little bin in the corner of the supermarket. Back in June, that bin would have looked like a mini-warehouse and it would have been prominently displayed outside the supermarket doors.

With that image in mind, I immediately made some zucchini bread. It was the only right thing to do.

The husband was skeptical. I have to admit I was too. I am not a huge zucchini fan. To me, zucchini is like a bad cucumber. A mushy vessel for water. Gross. But, I've always wanted to like it. The best way to do that would be to transform it into a baked good. Right? Absolutely.

Zucchini Bread

1-1/2 cups all purpose flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/2 tsp baking soda

1/4 tsp salt

1-1/2 tsp cinnamon

2 eggs

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup butter (1 stick), melted

1 tsp vanilla

1 cup grated zucchini

Whisk together all the dry ingredients and set aside. Mix the eggs, sugar, butter and vanilla together into well combined. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, then stir in the grated zucchini. Bake in a loaf pan in a 325-degree oven for about 40 minutes.

I found a lot of information on how to grate zucchini on the web. Do you grate the whole thing, with the skins? With the seeds? There are a lot of opinions. In the end, I grated the entire zucchini using the grater attachment on my food processor. It took all of five seconds. One medium sized zucchini turned into 2 cups of the grated stuff. I froze the extra. Realistically, it will live in my freezer for 8-9 months before I throw it out, but for right now, I feel thrifty and hopeful.

Gazpacho

We went over to my mom's house for dinner last night. My mom lives in the Gulf region, and the moment after the very moment she heard reports of the BP oil spill, she bought every shrimp available and treated them to a deep freeze. This meant garlic shrimp for dinner. After debating whether the toddler could eat shrimp (we decided no), I remembered that I had planned to make gazpacho as my final tomato dish. Perfect! A Spanish-themed dinner. What could go wrong?

Well, upon arriving at my mom's house, I discovered that she owns neither a blender nor a regular sized food processor. Ack! How did people make soup in the dark ages? There was a brief moment of panic until my mom produced a mini-chopper. Improvisation set in, and the result was a light, fresh-tasting, and chunky, chilled tomato soup.

4 large tomatoes
1 tsp minced garlic
1 yellow pepper
1/2 hothouse cucumber
1 lemon, juiced
1 tsp (or so) olive oil
salt
pepper
some cilantro (of course, I didn't measure a thing)

When I started making the soup, I tried peeling the tomatoes. I abandoned this task, though, because my mom also does not own any knives sharper than a spoon except for a ginormous steel blade that looks like it could gut a crocodile. So, I chopped the tomatoes and pureed a little less than half until it was just liquid. I then dumped everything into a large bowl.

Next, I chopped a yellow pepper and then pureed about 1/4 of it until it was mostly liquid. I also chopped the cucumber in small pieces, and then added both the yellow pepper and cucumber to the tomatoes.

Finally, I added the lemon juice, the olive oil, salt, pepper, and the cilantro. We chilled it for only like 15 minutes before we decided to just eat it.

The verdict: excellent! The end result was definitely a cross between soup and salsa, but it had enough soupiness to please everyone. The spouse even had a seconds in lieu of eating more shrimp. I'm speechless.

Tomato Ice Cream

I've been talking about making a tomato ice cream all summer. Reactions are split down the middle. Half of my friends and colleagues think that it would be a delightfully refreshing summer treat (their exact words). The other half look puzzled and say "that's weird." If "weird" is the most negative comment I can get, then why not try it? And, seriously, it's a lot less weird than some of the ice cream flavors that I've been reading about this summer. Government cheese ice cream? Um, no thank you.

After deciding that I was definitely going to make this ice cream, I did some research. My go to is The Perfect Scoop by David Lebovitz. No tomato ice cream recipe!?! Unthinkable. I had to go online. One word sums up my search: gross. I was on my own. So, here's what I came up with:

2 lbs beefsteak tomatoes

1 cup whole milk

1/3 cup sugar

1 pinch of kosher salt

Peel and chop the tomatoes. Add all of the ingredients to a blender. Whiz! Strain the mixture into a bowl:

Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Simple. But when you don't know what you're doing, simple is usually best. My reaction: "what a delightfully refreshing summer treat!" The spouse's reaction: "that's weird." You can't win them all. But, I do plan to eat a scoop with a little cheesecake.

Tomato Flatbread (sort of)

I set out to make a tomato flatbread this week. I had good intentions, and a flatbread seemed like something I could make in my kitchen, especially since flatbreads are made without yeast. You see, I am afraid of yeast. It all started when I tried to impress the spouse with Hot Cross Buns on Easter. Disaster. I am not sure what is in those little packets, but we are not friends. Instead of delicious, plump, pull-apart, lick-the-dough-around-my-tongue, buns, I got cinnamon-sugar rocks. In short, the spouse was not impressed.

Things being what they are, though, I did not have the time or the inclination to make the flatbread this week. What is a girl to do? Buy pre-made stuff! I snooped around the upscale market in my neighborhood. They always have fancy-pantsy things. And voila! A packaged pizza crust! Wrapped in plastic! With drawings meant to evoke Italy! Using words like "stone ground"! Genius.

The "flatbread" followed:

1 tbsp olive oil

1 large beefsteak tomato

1 red cipollini onion, sliced or chopped

2 ounces goat cheese

basil leaves

sea salt

pepper

Remove the crust from the package (already I love this). Brush olive oil over the crust. Cut tomato into slices. Lay slices on the crust. Sprinkle with onion, cheese and basil leaves. Season with the salt and pepper. Pop it into the oven, and bake according to package directions.

The spouse's reaction: "This is the best pizza I've ever had." That's why we've been married for five years. Also, he's probably right. Just saying.

Stuffed Tomatoes

I saw Giada De Laurentiis make herb stuffed tomatoes on the Food Network a couple years ago. At the time, I was not a fan of beefsteak tomatoes. They seemed pretty bland, and in my experience, they were almost always mealy. But, Giada's tomatoes came out of the oven bursting with color. Little red orbs with a crunchy golden topping freckled with bright parsley and cheese. I decided that I had to try it one day.

That day was yesterday, but of course I changed it up a bit. Instead of stuffing my beefsteak tomatoes with parsley and provolone, I used Italian sausage and Parmigiano-Reggiano. I could have eaten at least ten of them, but I only made four halves, two for me and two for the spouse (though the toddler eats bacon, pernil, and other pork products, she does not fully understand the joy of sausage).

Sausage Stuffed Tomatoes

2 Italian sausage links

1/4 tsp dried oregano

2 beefsteak tomatoes

1/2 cup panko

1/4 cup (or so) Parmigiano-Reggiano (okay, I didn't measure)

2 sprigs fresh oregano

Remove sausage from the casings and brown in a small skillet. Add dried oregano and cook, stirring, for about a minute. Place cooked sausage in a medium bowl and set aside.

While the sausage cools slightly, cut the tomatoes in half. Hollow out the insides to form four cups, reserving the tomato pulp. Chop the pulp and add to the bowl with the sausage along with the panko and cheese. Chop the fresh oregano and add it to the mixture.

Place the tomato halves into a buttered dish. Fill each half with the sausage-panko mixture. It will look like this:

Bake in a 375-degree oven for about 20 minutes until browned. There's no picture of that because we ate them immediately and without restraint. Delicious.

Tomatoes!

I recently spent a lovely Saturday afternoon at the Union Square Greenmarket with the toddler and the spouse. If you don't have kids, then you don't know that this is a real treat. Why? Well, it's a huge production.

You plan to leave at 9:00 a.m. but inevitably, after battling tantrums, diaper disasters, oatmeal bombs, and ill-timed naps, your outing begins around noon. Normally, a noon start isn't so bad, but that is the beginning of prime local-food hipster time on a Saturday. The local-food hipster prides him/herself on knowing, and tasting, the differences between Columbia-county raised pigs and Washington-county pigs, grain-feed beef and grass-fed beef, cultivated mushrooms and wild mushrooms. You get the gist. They love the farmers' market, but they also love sleeping in after doing whatever it is hipsters do at night. They tend to dislike strollers, preferring slings and other carrier-contraptions. Perhaps as a result, they do not step aside for strolling children, forcing the toddler and the spouse to experience the Greenmarket very, very, very slowly. This makes both the toddler and the spouse cranky. Not good since they are usually already annoyed by the subway trip to Union Square (though the spouse is getting nice arms from carrying that "lightweight" Maclaren up and down the stairs), and one or the other is probably hungry, thirsty, tired, or otherwise uncomfortable.

So, imagine my surprise when no one complained, cried, or had an unexplained meltdown on our latest trip into the belly of the beast. Everyone was in such a good mood that I joyfully sampled jams, cheese, bread, and fruit without being told to hurry up or without hearing any whining. Truly amazing. Moreover, the spouse did not even look embarrassed when I engaged several folks in conversations about ripeness, recipes, and the such.

It was during one such conversation that I noticed Gail Simmons next to me buying some tomatoes. Me and Gail at the same tomato stand? Too much. Of course, I bought everything that she did. Yellow something or other and some funky striped cherry tomatoes. Who can remember what they were called? The toddler, the spouse and I ate them all within a few hours, and that exceptional day inspires the tomato edition of the Last Gasp of Summer Series.

This week, I'll try making stuffed tomatoes, a tomato flatbread, gazpacho, and, of course, tomato ice cream. In the meantime, you can get your (heirloom) tomato, Greenmarket fix courtesy of New York Magazine.

The Thing About the Muffins

So, I have two confessions about the faux-healthy blueberry muffins. First, I decided that I liked the recipe in Joy of Cooking so much that I barely changed anything about it. And second, by the time I got around to making the muffins, I had already eaten all of the blueberries in my apartment. As a result, I made my blueberry muffins with frozen blueberries.

I know that frozen fruit is supposed to be an adequate substitute for fresh fruit. Supposedly, the fruit is frozen at the peak of freshness. But, after eating multiple pints of the fresh stuff, I have to admit that the frozen berries were kind of a letdown. Not as sweet. In fact, kind of chemical-y. Like a bad blueberry ice-pop (remember to make those next year . . . yes, a blueberry yogurt ice-pop).

The upside of making the muffins with frozen blueberries was that I avoided the dreaded bright-blue Frankenberry Muffin. I made those last year for a baby shower brunch. Thankfully, my friend was expecting a boy, so I pretended that the blue hue was simply thematic. This time around, however, there was pleasant blue studding and maybe a blue ribbon or two, but who wants to sacrifice taste for looks? Not me.

Whole-Wheat Blueberry Muffins

Follow the Joy of Cooking recipe for Blueberry Muffins using the Northern Corn Bread recipe (you know you own that kitchen bible, but if you don't, you should unless you're like a professional chef or something). The only changes I made were these:

1. In place of 3/4 cup all-purpose flour, I used 1/4 cup whole-wheat flour and 1/2 cup all-purpose flour.
2. Instead of using both milk and buttermilk, I used all whole milk.
3. I did not use any sugar to make the batter. Instead, I rolled the frozen berries in about 2 tablespoons of sugar before I added them to the mix.

Why didn't I attempt something wild and crazy? Why bother? These are good muffins people. There is a reason why the Joy of Cooking has been around for over 75-years.

Blueberries Part II

Savory Blueberry Chocolate Sauce

Chocolate is a tricky thing. It's all over: in cookies, cakes, candy bars, in milk, syrups, and coffee. But, most of the chocolate out there is bad. I know people will be upset with me for saying so, but it's just true. It wasn't true when I was about eight years old. Back then, I regularly sold my home-cooked, lovingly prepared school lunch to other third grade fools, so I could buy the generic, brown-colored sugar-chalk that passed as chocolate bars at the corner store. Of course, I thought they were divine. Even better if they featured a little rice crisp. But a funny thing happened on the way to adulthood, and now these same treats seem sickeningly sweet and weirdly textured (with the exception of M&Ms which are simply little nuggets of goodness).

This is all to say I was pretty sure that when I mixed blueberries with chocolate, I wanted more of a savory experience than a hyper-sweet gooey mess. I instantly thought of mole. A google search of blueberry mole led to a trip to Hell's Kitchen, a restaurant serving "progressive Mexican cuisine," which apparently includes a pork shank coated in a delightful, smooth, dark-colored, and deep blueberry mole. Fantastic. Slightly sweet, but with an undertone of something spicy and complex. Just fantastic.

I could attempt to make it, right? Please. I have a full-time job and a toddler. But, I could make something like it? Not even close. Something vaguely inspired by it? That's what's below.

1 tbsp vegetable oil

1/2 sweet onion, chopped

1 tbsp minced garlic

1 jalapeno, minced

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp allspice

1/4 tsp dried oregano

1/4 tsp ancho chile powder

1/4 tsp cumin

salt

1 14-oz can diced tomatoes (c'mon you know it's easier)

1 pint fresh blueberries

1/4 cup golden raisins

1/3 cup sliced almonds

1-2 oz unsweetened chocolate, melted

Heat the vegetable oil in a small skillet. Saute the onion until soft. Add garlic, jalapeno, and spices. Cook for about a minute. Salt to taste.

Using a blender, combine the onion mixture, tomatoes, blueberries, raisins, and almonds. Puree and then mix in the chocolate.

Done. Okay, not smooth or creamy. Kind of jerk-like. But, still good. I served it with chicken thighs. I browned them on the stovetop, removed them from the pan, added a little chicken broth, melted some of the sauce in that, added the chicken back to the pan and then smeared the sauce on top of the chicken and baked it in a 375 degree oven for about 25 minutes. My husband ate it without complaints, as did the toddler who has a fondness for spicy food.

Blueberries

I love blueberries. They're small. Perfect for snacking. They're sweet-tart. Who doesn't love a little zing in their sugar? They're dusty-colored. That's deliciously weird. They're grown in Jersey. I grew up there! They stain my countertop. Okay, I don't love that part, but as you can see, blueberries are near-perfect. What then could I do to make blueberries even more wonderful? Put it in ice-cream, mix it with vodka, bake it into a faux-healthy muffin, and eat it with chocolate.

Blueberry Ice Cream

1 pint blueberries

1/2 cup sugar, divided

1 cup heavy cream

1 cup whole milk

dash of kosher salt

4 egg yolks

1/4 tsp vanilla

In a saucepan, combine cream, milk, and salt over medium heat. Bring to a simmer. Meanwhile, in a large bowl, combine egg yolks and 1/4 cup sugar with a whisk. Once the cream mixture has reached a simmer, add one ladle of it to the yolk mixture. Whisk well. Pour the yolk mixture into the cream mixture and cook over low heat, stirring constantly until the custard can coat the back of a spoon. Remove from the heat and cool for about five minutes. Stir in the vanilla.

Strain the custard through a fine mesh strainer into a clean bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least three hours.

While the custard chills, mash blueberries and 1/4 cup sugar in a small bowl. Cover and set aside in the refrigerator. Once the custard has chilled, add blueberry mixture. Then, pour the custard into your ice cream maker and freeze according to the manufacturer's instructions.

This recipe made about 1.5 quarts of ice cream. It was fairly good right out of the ice cream maker, but the next day I had ice cream with chunks of blue ice. Should I have simply let the ice cream sit out longer before serving it or is this some other kind of problem? Ideas? Also, I think that the ice cream could have benefited from a little alcohol. Maybe creme de cassis?

Spiked Blueberry Lemonade

1/2 cup blueberries

1/2 cup sugar

1 cup water

1/4 cup fresh lemon juice

vodka

(agave nectar)

Combine blueberries, sugar, and water over medium-low heat until sugar dissolves, blueberries burst, and a syrup forms. Remove from heat and allow to cool.

(You will have a lot of syrup. Think pancakes. Think of drizzling it on cut fruit. Think of eating it by the spoonful. But don't make your syrup too thick because that's gross.)

For one drink, combine the lemon juice, syrup and vodka in a shaker with ice.

How much syrup? How much vodka? Whatever you want. Because I have only one measuring cup, I used an old shot glass from college to do all post-lemon juice measuring. I liked 2 shots of syrup and one shot of vodka. My husband thought it was a little tart, so we added some agave nectar until my non-blueberry loving spouse was satisfied.

Later this week . . . Whole Wheat Blueberry Muffins and Savory Blueberry Chocolate Sauce!

Last Gasp of Summer Series

August is a depressing month. The summer seems like it has just begun, but it’s quickly coming to a halt. And with the inevitable progression of the seasons, it feels as though we must all hurry up and do something. We must work hard at enjoying the summer before it is too late. Children refuse to leave the pool even as their entire bodies shrivel in tepid water, couples linger a little longer during late-night strolls in the park even as they are too tired to pass flirtations, and I purchase every summer fruit that still appears in the supermarket aisle without regard to taste, ripeness, or quality. Why? Well, those glossy red cherries that were so ubiquitous only a few weeks ago are already gone. Not even a bruised stray remains. Squash blossoms came and went in a flash. Those weird vegetables at the farmers' market? Gone. All gone.

So, knowing that I have several long months of apples and giant, rock hard squashes, I buy melons and peaches, corn and tomatoes, and anything being advertised as “fresh,” “juicy” or “summer’s best” with desperate abandon.

Which leads me to my first blog series: last gasp of summer. For the next five weeks before Labor Day, I’ll explore one summertime ingredient and give four recipes featuring that fair-weather friend. Why four? There’s one recipe for each day of my fantasy four-day weekend spent in a cabin somewhere on a lake abutting a mountain near an organic farm that gives me free pies.