Mycophagy, Man: Tales of Foraging and Wild Mushroom Tagliatelle

Boletis edulis; Porcini

Me and Mushrooms.  Mushrooms and me. 

This love affair has been going on for my whole life.  But it was in August 2013 that I officially began dabbling in the world of amateur mycology - that is, the amateur study and collection of mushrooms - because that was when Matt, as a wonderful anniversary gift, got us a Saturday outing on an amateur mushroom hunt in the Rockies together.  I've been meaning to write this post since then!

cross-section of porcini ready to dry in the oven

We left Roman with a neighbor that sunny Saturday morning and headed off into the mountains of Jefferson County, Colorado to an undisclosed location to hunt Porcini - or King Boletes - boletis edulis.  (And for the record, who the heck knew Porcini grew in Colorado?!  Apparently it's a big thing.)  But I had been dabbling in the world of mycophagy - that is, the practice of consuming fungi, or being fungivorous (love that word!), my entire life.  I've mentioned before that as a small child rather than having an imaginary friend I had an imaginary mushroom I chewed on all day.  It's odd.  Very odd.  But very me.

I love mushrooms.  I seek them out at specialty shops on a regular basis.  And now, instead of paying a hefty price for barely passable fresh chanterelles and dried porcini from central Asia, I know how to collect them myself, right here in Denver and the surrounding areas.  I also know how to dry them, prepare them, and even discovered how to make porcini powder from the dried and blended underpart of the cap.  So many new secrets, discoveries, delicacies.

findings from the forest in Evergreen

Mushroom foraging was something of a revelation for me.  As Matt put it, rarely in life does one come across something that is so true and inherent a passion.  Not only did mushroom foraging come naturally to me (I'm pretty sure I had all the characteristics memorized the first time around), but I also became obsessed with it instantly.  The weekend after our first forage, during which I found the largest king bolete of the group, Matt and I returned and looked for more mushrooms.  He had a very hard time pulling me out of the woods after 3 hours.  I was unstoppable with my Danish knife, paper lunch bags and backpack.  A few weeks later, I booked my next foraging excursion with the same company and guide - Graham Steinruck of Mycotours.  I became friends with Graham and began to get mildly connected to the semi-secret underworld / sub culture of amateur mycology and mycophagy.  I couldn't stop talking about mushrooms, drying mushrooms, eating mushrooms.  Everywhere I went, I was looking for them - even while driving.  My neighbors even started bringing mushrooms back from their hikes for me to identify.  It was a pleasant surprise to have a new and convenient hobby - one I'd always wanted to take up but never had the time or access to do so.

One of my favorite aspects of mushroom foraging is the traipsing-through-the-woods part.  Matt and I took Roman with us on a couple of other forays - to the original spot in Jeffco and to a new spot up in Evergreen where we encountered a Czech man who gave us a giant load of porcini he didn't want.  We had so much fun being disconnected from society - no cell phones or computers - and just letting Roman run through the woods and explore.  He became a gatherer like me and I gave him his own paper bag to fill with different specimens (none of which we'd ever eat, of course, given the possible cross-contamination).  He loved it.  And I couldn't help but revel in this shared experience of gathering food together in a way that had been done by families for centuries all over the world.  It was a bonding experience, and one I look forward to repeating when the season starts up again next summer.

Until then, here are some photos of some of my mushrooms and a quick and delicious recipe for one of my favorite ways to eat wild mushrooms: a simple white wine and cream sauce on tagliatelle pasta.  Yum.

Our findings on that first foray

 My Favorite Mushrooms of Colorado

so far

**CAVEAT: Please do not try to collect these without expert help or knowledge!**

On that first foray we found a great representation of some of the most common mushrooms to be had in the Colorado mountains.  Clockwise from bottom left, here is what we found and dined upon:

1. Suillus Brevipes or Sticky Cap Mushrooms: (the light cream colored ones on the bottom left) Many experienced foragers turn their noses up at Suillus Brevipes but they are one of my favorites.  They are a meaty mushroom in the bolete family that have a dark brownish-grey cap which you peel off in order to eat them.  They are abundant in the pine forests of Colorado.

2. Lycoperdon perlatum or Gem-studded Puffballs: These are the cute little balls that look exactly as their names would suggest.  They are some of the easiest to identify and Roman's favorites.  They have little tiny white "gems" that come off like powder when you touch them.  The key is to make sure they don't have a stem, and to cut through them from top to bottom to make sure they are 100% white in the center, otherwise you might risk eating rotton or poisonous variations.  They have a tender, fluffy consistency.  These are the miniature versions of the Giant Puffballs or Calvatia gigantea.

3. Sarcodon imbricatus or Hawk's Wings: (dark brown scaly ones in the center) These are some of the easiest mushrooms to spot.  They are also very abundant in the CO hills and mountains and have a dark, tell-tale collection of teeth on the underside of the cap.  For this reason they are also often known as hedgehog mushrooms.  These are some of Matt's favorites to eat - though I find their taste strong and strange.  Their texture is similar to that of a portobello, but stronger and, for lack of a better word, gamier.

4. Boletis edulis or Porcini: What you see in my picture are representations of both the King Bolete and the more commonly prized Italian porcini.  The King boletes, as the name implies, are much larger than the oft-pictured small, chestnut colored, fat-stemmed porcini.  Both are delicious but hard to find without any wormholes as they are also favored by insects.  When you can get them, they are wonderful fresh, dry, in pastas and soups.  There is still some debate about whether the North American variation is exactly the same as the European one but that is something I consider something of a ridiculous quibble - they are delicious no matter what.  We ate the small ones fresh and I sliced and dried the larger ones, worms and wormholes and all.  Nothing wrong with a little extra protein. :)

5. Lactarius Deliciosus or Saffron Milk Cap: (the bright orange one with blueish-green spots) These are also some of my favorite mushrooms and often overlooked by porcini / chanterelle obsessed amateur mycologists.  I love their texture and just think they're really, really pretty.  There are some mildly poisonous variations of these but as long as you see that they "lactate" a bright blue-green liquid when cut, you are pretty safe (assuming you've also checked off the list for where and how to find them as well).  I love their orange-saffron color and find their Latin name pretty fun to say as well. :)

6. Yellowish gray ones: can't remember what these are.

7. Auricularia auricula-judae or Wood ears:  We were very fortunate to find some wood ear mushrooms on our first outing.  They are not particularly common here and I love them.  They are commonly found in Asian cooking and have a cartiledge-y texture that I find unique and wonderful, especially in Chinese Hot & Sour Soup.  They grow on the bark of elder trees, most commonly.

 8. Little Brown ones at the bottom: can't remember what these were either.

*  *  *

Wild Mushroom Tagliatelle

Serves 2 good eaters

Ingredients

2-3 tbsp butter1 tbsp olive oil
1 shallot, chopped finely
1-2 cloves garlic, sliced
~1/4 cup good white wine or dry vermouth
~1/4 cup light cream 
1/2 lemon, juiced
1lb wild mushrooms, sliced: you can use a combination as I did or just use porcini / whatever good wild mushroom is available at your local market
2-3 tbsps Italian Parsley, chopped roughly, for garnish
1lb tagliatelle (or pappardelle) pasta
Salt & pepper

Buon appetito!
Heirloom tomato salad with parmigiano and balsamic
to accompany lightly sauteed wild mushroom tagliatelle.

Method

1. Set a pot of salted water to boil for the pasta.  When boiling, and about five minutes from serving time, add the pasta.

2. Add butter and oil to a large sautee pan over medium-high heat and allow the butter to melt completely.  Then add the shallot and garlic and allow to cook for 30 seconds to a minute, tossing them around.

3. To the pan, add the mushrooms and sautee, allowing them to brown on one side for a while before moving them around too much. If the pan gets too dry, add salt and pepper to draw moisture from the mushrooms.  2-3 minutes

4. Once mushrooms are sauteed, add the wine or vermouth and deglaze the pan.  In the meantime, make sure the pasta is going and almost ready.  Then add the cream to the pan and allow it to bubble and simmer for a minute or so in order to reduce. Salt & pepper.

5. Remove the pasta from the water before it is fully cooked (after about 5 minutes or so).  Add to the sautee pan, turn off the heat, and toss gently in the mushroom sauce.  Squirt the juice of half a lemon over the dish and garnish with chopped parsley.  Serve immediately.

'Tis The Gift To Be Simple: Shaker (Meyer) Lemon Pie

Two glorious discoveries to share:

1. Shaker Lemon Pie is now in the running for my favorite pie of all-time.  Sorry, cherry.

2. I finally found my forever-pie-crust recipe.  The one I've been waiting for all these years. The flakiest, butteriest, best-est pie crust I've ever made.  It didn't come out perfectly this time because I used the wrong pie dish and sprayed butter on the top of my pie (do not do this!), but I know when done right it will be just what I want.  Thank you Smitten Kitchen and your pea-sized-butter-pieces-comment.  You have changed the way I make (and enjoy) crust forever. :)

And a belated Happy St. Patrick's Day to everyone! 

St. Patrick's Day sneaks up on me every single year.  Matt is part-Irish so he always likes to celebrate.  We used to go to our favorite Irish Pub when we lived in New York.  These days, I tend to go home-made and buy the boil-it-yourself Corned Beef packet and make some cabbage, potatoes and carrots to go with.  This year, our Sunday night plans changed at the last minute and so we had to put-off St. Patrick's day until last night, Monday.  As an unplanned addition to my belated Irish meal, I remembered I had a bag of Meyer Lemons sitting in the fruit drawer that I'd been waiting to find the right recipe for.  Four lovely, yellow lemons, waiting to be made into something delicious.  What could be less Irish than four lovely Meyer lemons, right?

Well, that is when the English-Irish meal came together in a much-belated attempt to reconcile the two with no politics involved: Corned Beef & Cabagge and Shaker Lemon Pie for dessert.  Bold.  Very bold.

*  *  *

Simple Gifts.

'Tis the gift to be simple, 'tis the gift to be free

'Tis the gift to come down where we ought to be,

And when we find ourselves in the place just right,

'Twill be in the valley of love and delight.

When true simplicity is gain'd,

To bow and to bend we shan't be asham'd,

To turn, turn will be our delight,

Till by turning, turning we come 'round right. 

Written by Shaker Elder Joseph Brackett in Alfred, Maine

Pleasant Hill, Kentucky, Summer 2012

The Shakers are a widely-forgotten, American Protestant sect whose leaders were originally descended from the English.  They are known for their simply, Puritan-esque way of life - and their lovely, austere furniture and wood-working.  As fortune would have it, when we were about to leave Maine, my watercolor teacher Charles insisted we go to the Shaker village in Kentucky on the epic drive over to Colorado.  He said it was pretty.  He said it was interesting.  But, most of all, he said the Shaker Lemon Pie would change my life.
So we went to Pleasant Hill.  And pleasant it was.

Shame about the pie.

 After one beautiful - nearly ethereal - evening and night in Pleasant Hill, Kentucky, among the buildings and farms of the Shakers, I've fallen in love with many aspects of the Kentucky Shaker way.  The awe-inspiring, spiral staircases.  The unique and unexpectedly beautiful combination of Shaker design and architecture with the rolling hills and high-white-fences of the Kentucky countryside.  The mindset that less is more - that simple gifts are life's real treasure.  It was such a beautiful surprise, that one little day with the Shakers.  I'd go back again, just to watch Roman walk down the dirt road towards the sunset.  But...I wouldn't go back for the food.

Sad to say, but since the essential disappearance of real Shakers in Pleasant Hill, the food and quality thereof has gone somewhat downhill.  I don't doubt that when Charles had the Shaker Lemon Pie it was every bit as delectable as he described it.  But when I had it, it was so painfully forgettable I was almost ashamed to admit to Charles I'd gone and had it, because I didn't want to tell him that it was no longer the pie of his yester-year dreams.


It was then that I made a mental note to try making some Shaker Lemon Pie myself by finding an authentic Shaker recipe and using the best ingredients I could find.  Enter the Meyer Lemons.

I learned the hard way a couple of years ago that too much citrus does-not-a-good-dessert-make.  I tried Nigella's Clementine Cake to get rid of the million cuties I had in my house and it was SO gross (and I almost never use that word to describe food) that I had to throw the whole thing out (a first for me, actually).

I was, therefore, wary of using the entire Meyer Lemon in the Shaker Lemon Pie.  But I did it anyway.  And, happily, the result was one of the most complex, delicious pies I've ever had.  Ever, ever, ever.  And despite all the warnings from cooks that the flavor might be slightly bitter and too "sophisticated" for a child to like, Roman ate his up greedily.

Did I mention I love my son? :)

Shaker Stairway; Shaker Lemons

So here's the winning recipe.  The texture finds itself halfway between Lemon curd and lemon custard.  The pieces of candied rind add slightly bitter-but-fruit-filled notes to each bite.  Try this at home when the Meyers come back out next year.

Verily, I say, 'tis one of life's simple gifts.

*  *  *

Shaker (Meyer) Lemon Pie
Serves 6-8

if you're not greedy :)

The Shaker-like Non-Negotiables of This Here Pie:

1.  You MUST use Meyer Lemons.  Regular lemons will not do.  Too tart.  Too much pith.  The list goes on.

2. You MUST use a mandoline to slice the aforementioned Meyer Lemons.  Unless, of course, you are an accomplished sushi chef who can slice lemons paper-thin on a consistent basis.  And, let's face it, you're not.

3. You MUST let the lemons macerate for a WHOLE DAY.  Do not short-cut on this step.  I'm convinced this is what drew the bitterness out.  I cannot emphasize this enough.

4. You MUST respect this pie enough to make the amazing all-butter crust I mentioned above.  Follow the Smitten Kitchen recipe and process and pay particular attention to the fact that she leaves gigantic pieces of butter in-tact in her crust dough. DO NOT OVER CUT!

Ingredients
2 Meyer Lemons, thinly sliced with mandoline
(as thin as it will go); use the whole lemon!

2 cups sugar
1/2 tsp salt
4 Eggs
3 Tbsp flour (optional)
2 all-butter pie crusts (1 top, 1 bottom); chilled for at least 1-2 hours

Additional
Melted butter or egg-white to brush on top crust
Sugar for sprinkling on top

Method
1. Mix lemon slices (remove seeds) with the sugar and salt and set aside, covered, at room temperature for 24 hours.

2. Pre-heat oven to 425F

3. Roll-out your chilled crusts.  Drape the first over the pie dish with 1/2 inch overhang.

4. Mix the lemon mixture with the eggs and flour.  Pour into lined pie dish.

5. Drape top cover over.  Press crusts edges together to seal and crimp decoratively.

6. Slice top of pie for steam-venting purposes.

7. Glaze with butter or egg-white and sprinkle with sugar, if desired.

8. Bake for 25 minutes at 425F.  Reduce to 350F and bake for an additional 20-25 minutes.

Cool completely before serving.  Cheers!

A Time to Cheese.

Alluring cheeses at Borough Market, London 2010

In life there are times to cook, and then there are times to cheese.

Some days you just can't bring yourself to whip even the simplest of dinners up, and, lucky for me, I live with two men who will happily sit down to a table of bread and cheese as a complete meal.  Confession: I can't say I'm entirely with them.  I need something to go with the bread and cheese (prosciutto? olives? avocado? homemade jam? Membrillo!), but maybe that's the Mexican in me coming out.  My ancestral tendency to leave the cheese to the Europeans can't be entirely escaped.  (Translation: I'd still rather have some huevos rancheros.)  But despite all that, I do have to agree with my 3 year-old, there are most definitely days when you just have to cheese.

I remember well the feeling I had as the cheese cart was wheeled over to us at Daniel in NYC back in 2006.  (Brenda's inner-monologue: "A cheese course?! Amazing. OMG - what the hell do I choose?!")  It was the same feeling I used to get when I'd timidly walk to the cheese counter in Agata & Valentina and then run off pretending I didn't want cheese anyway.  Or how I felt going into the infamous Murray's Cheese with my chef brother-in-law for the first time.

Overwhelmed.

Slightly scared to ask questions.  Worried I'd pick the wrong one and end up not eating it, or, worse yet, not pick anything at all.  Then worrying the monger / waiter would judge me based on what I did pick.  Dreading that with one wrong turn I might end up with a shoe-box apartment that was not only stiflingly small, but also smelled like stinky feet.

A good meal.
Image credit: Marcus Ciardiello

  It has taken a couple of years (about seven, actually) for me to feel somewhat comfortable going to a cheese monger.  I didn't grow up eating a lot of cheese - outside of Oaxaca and Queso Fresco, of course.  As a remedy, it helped to live in London for almost four years.  There, cheese - good cheese - is available at even the worst supermarkets (well, not at the rather unfortunate Iceland, but you get the idea).  I dove head first into deliciously crumbly, aged Cheddars.  Dabbled in the world of wonderfully fruity Wensleydales.  And occasionally even tried a Stilton or two - ever-eyeing the Potted Stiltons at Fortnum & Mason - though I've, admittedly and somewhat shamefully, never been a huge fan of blue cheeses.

At some point in there, I also made a brief foray into the world of luxury food marketing and had the opportunity to visit Casa dei Giovani - and their cheese farm (a side business to their charity-fueled olive oil) where I took home a small wheel of handmade Pecorino plucked from the aging barn where the sheep themselves were tended to.  I carried it home to England, gently tucked in between my clothes on my carry-on.  I never looked at cheese the same way again.

These days, I am decidedly more adventurous in my cheesing.  I don't buy imitation Parmiggiano - Matt and Roman are far-too addicted to the real-thing to ever go back.  And I am lucky to, even in Denver, have grocers near me that carry wonderful, wonderful cheeses from both local (US) and international makers. 

After tasting many, many cheeses I feel it's truly an art and something that takes time to appreciate.  Each is different, unique and worth getting to know.  I still have some I like better (goat) than others (sheep), but at least now I can eat cheese for cheese's sake - without having to drown it in Membrillo or cold cuts.

Here are some of my favorites lately - maybe next time you don't feel like cooking, grab a few, sit down, and enjoy one of life's acquired-yet-simple pleasures.  Go on, cheese it.

*  *  *

Brenda's Top Five Favorite Cheeses

Lately, anyway, and in no particular order

Camembert, fruit, saucisson & olives: an old standby.
Image Credit: Marcus Ciardiello

 

 

1. Cypress Grove's Humboldt Fog, American, Goat's Milk
This is a cheese I discovered in Maine, though it's made in California.  I love the tangy goatness of it.  So delicious and creamy - kind of a crowd-pleaser, actually.  And yet somewhat more sophisticated than the average goat cheese because of the distinctive layer of vegetable ash running like a vein through the center.  I love that America is producing such great cheeses now - no longer have to only buy French, Swiss or Italian.

2. Gorgonzola Dolce, Italian, Cow's Milk
My local King Soopers Supermarket is a hidden gem of delicious and reasonably priced cheeses.  They have a bargain bin where all the pieces are under $5 - a deal for good cheese.  In one of those a couple of weeks back I found a great looking piece of Gorgonzola Dolce.  Being a professed blue-hater, I had no clue that this would be the cheese for me.  Developed specifically to be milder than regular gorgonzola, it packs a gentler, kinder punch.

3. Parmiggian Reggiano, Italian, Raw Cow's Milk
Does Parma make any bad food?!  This is a classic but it bears repeating: everything tastes better with a little Parmiggiano on it.  I've always cooked with it, but it's only been in the past few years that I've started eating it alone, serving it as part of my cheese plates, and letting Roman snack on it.  It's a strong flavor, but one that is complex and infinitely satisfying with its crumbly, yet substantial feel.  While I almost always buy the Italian original, it's worth noting that there are now some nice American counterparts (counterfeits? :)) from, of course, Wisconsin.

Personal goal: to one day have a whole wheel in my house for the holidays, and finish it. :)

4. Taleggio, Italian, Cow's Milk
What a stinker this cheese is!  But it's creamy and receives the honor of being classified as "truly delish" by yours truly.  I have to admit that I especially like when it's really aged and becomes runny.  I don't like keeping it in the fridge for long because it really does make it awkward when you have visitors who don't like / know much about stinky cheese and its surprisingly large stink-span.  I also think it's cool that this type of cheese (washed-rind, smear-ripened) has been around since the Roman times.  Cicero cheese, anyone?

5. Saint-André
This cheese is almost too much.  Triple-cream?  Seriously?  
Predictably, it's one of Matt's favorites - a self-professed cream-freak and lover of cow's milk cheeses.  And after having it several times, I've also come around to loving it.  I especially love the white, fluffly, billowy little mold skin that covers the outside of the cheese.  If left to properly come to temp, this cheese is the closest thing you'll find to eating really, really sophisticated cheese-flavored-butter.  Ok, something about that almost grosses me out.  I can't eat much when we do have it (not that Matt minds), but I do love having an indulgent slice or two.

Make-Your-Own-Rilletes: An Adventure in & Rant on Preserving Meat

my homemade pork rilletes

 Valentine's Day this year was fantastic.  Matt treated me to dinner and drinks at a couple of local Portland establishments that we'd never been to.  The first was an amazing restaurant called Grace where we had an aperitif in what is a converted decommissioned Methodist church from the 1850s.  We didn't have any food there but I can highly recommend their bar as having very interesting and delicious cocktails as well as fabulous and out-of-the-norm ambiance.  After a drink we headed to our final destination: a tiny restaurant called Figa that I'd been eyeing for months, on Congress Street, toward's the Mujoy Hill end of the city. 

Matt and I are happy and dedicated consumers of preserved meats (especially Matt).  As such, we were very excited to see a fantasmagoric charcuterie plate available as a starter at Figa.  Matt always gets the charcuterie plate or the antipasto plate (if we're doing Italian).  It's his thing.  And I always sit there and pretend I prefer my appetizers (in this case roasted bone marrow with an oxtail ragu and caper berry gremolata served with crazy delicious bread).  But I inevitably break down and beg for a couple of bites of this and that.  This and that, in this case, was cured pork jowl, duck pastrami, chicken neck & rabbit terrine (among several others), served with homemade pickles and melba toasts.  It was a reminder of just how much I enjoy cured meats and preserved meats in general and how much it annoys me when people act like they are "gross" or "unnatural."  Yes, people do that.

In fact, just last week I got into a semi-heated-conversation with a rather opinionated and ill-informed lady over whether aged meat was "gross" or not.  She was howling about how disgusting it is that in Japan Kobe beef is "just hung out to dry" in the open and how it is unsanitary and revolting.  This is a huge pet peeve of mine - when people a) are overly vocal about personal opinions to a large group (except on blogs, of course :)) and b) when they are actually kind of wrong about said-vocal-opinions.  This woman truly believed with all her heart that there was an inherent difference between dry-aging beef and aging things like cheese or salami.  And that the former was also, by virtue of being aged, a disgusting and "wrong" thing to eat.  I can understand that argument if it's based on not liking the flavor of aged beef, but to brazenly proclaim that something is just "gross" without having eaten it or knowing how it's made is beyond my tolerance level.  Argh.

I bought this fantastic postcard for Roman this Christmas
at the Fort Worth Science & History Museum

I got roped in.  When I pointed out to this woman that she eats mold all the time if she likes aged cheeses or salami she got flustered and annoyed and proclaimed that "well, salami is not the same thing - there's a PROCESS to it."  As if people in Japan just randomly hung cow carcasses out in the open for 28 days and then ate them!  There is a process to all of it, lady.  And most of those processes are well-established and closely regulated (thanks to our sometimes overzealous but necessary USDA and thousands of years of collective meat-curing experience!).  Go read up before you start proclaiming (at least in front of me). 

And so, having simmered down slightly, I valiantly ask the following as rhetorical pieces of intellectual stimulation:

What is it about preserving food that freaks modern-day-eaters out?  (I clearly recall the shreaks of horror that came from the chefs on Chopped when they were given whole-chicken-in-a-can as one of the secret ingredients; does look kind of gross but once one of the chefs explained how and why his grandmother used to can whole chickens on their farm, it no longer seemed wrong.) 

Why is it that people so hate (and demonize) canned foods?  (It has become a line of demarcation for those horrible food snobs out there.  I think I'll scream if I hear one more person say how gross canned food is.  I even had a guy who worked at an Italian deli tell me he thought preserving tuna in olive oil was "unnatural.") 

What is SO disgusting about dry-aged beef?!  Granted, it's not my favorite either but...just sayin'.

ALL that aging, curing and preserving means is that the meats were preserved, aged, sealed and saved -  so that in a time when refrigeration wasn't as prolific people could still have meat all year round.  Is that wrong or gross somehow?  We are very lucky to live in a time of 24/7 refrigeration and utter convenience, but that doesn't mean that there's no value in understanding the art of food preservation.  Apart from being practical it is a different, tasty and vastly interesting way to prepare foods that also allows for a completely different level of availability, economy, and nose-to-tail eating.

* * * 

Anyway, now that my horrifically-long introduction-rant is over with, let's get to the whole point behind it: I mentioned briefly back in November that I was making Pork Rilletes as one of the appetizers I was serving at Thanksgiving dinner with the in-laws.  It was my foray into the world of homemade preserved and cured meats and it was a smashing success.  Not only were the rilletes amazingly delicious but they opened my eyes to a whole world of lesser-cuts-made-magical.  And best of all, through all of my research for the best rilletes recipe available, I came across some awesome websites and books on the subject that I feel compelled to share.

My Top 5 Books / Websites on Preserved & Cured Meats

yes, I do know this is a hate-me or love-me post :)

Thyme & bay pork rilletes

5. The Paupered Chef: Pork Rilletes Recipe

I used this as a visual guide for my adventure in pork rilletes.  I am still in awe that the Paupered Chef actually made pork rilletes for his entire wedding (!).  I found this the most pragmatic visual guide to homemade rilletes online.

4. Charcutepalooza & Michael Ruhlman
This is a giant, year-long blog challenge.  Every month there's a new charcuterie-challenge - everything from duck prosciutto to homemade salami using Michael Ruhlman's book (link above).  Very cool.

3. Cured Meats

This blog is a focused study on home-curing.  Highly informative, simple, and delicious-looking.2. 

2. Hunter Angler Gardener Cook

I am kind of overwhelmed by this website but I utterly love it.  I totally aspire to that holistic approach to food - eaten, appreciated, grown and prepared with appreciation from every angle.

1. Pork & Sons

The original recipe I followed was an overly simplistic one written by Stéphane Reynaud of Pork & Sons in an article promoting his book for an Australian magazine.  And it had been sitting in my recipe book for close to 3 years before I managed to fish it out again.  It was an inspiration more than a guide, but it truly made this burgeoning pork devotee want to buy this "definitive guide to pork."

"Summer by the Sea" on My Plate: Samphire in Beurre Meunière

summer by the sea, on a plate

It is rare these days that I find something in the supermarket that I've never seen before. I've spent many a morning or afternoon, as Roman can attest to, trawling the aisles, checking out every nook and cranny to see what new has come in and what old has gone out. I regularly come home with new ingredients, spices, herbs - anything I've never tried. It is one of my favorite things to do and I consider it a luxury that Matt eats pretty much anything I put before him, no matter how odd or unorthodox, and gives his honest two-cents.

I've just re-joined my local gym, having avoided it successfully since Roman was born. Maybe it was the memories of late April afternoons spent floating like a whale hoping Roman would turn to the "optimal" birthing position, maybe it was just laziness, but it took a year for me to get back into it. I did my first aerobics class ever today. It became clear very quickly why I'd never done one before when after only 10 minutes I felt like my chest would collapse into itself and my arms stopped moving on command (let's not talk about my legs). But I stuck it out. And lived to eat another day.

Incidentally, it's after an intense workout that I most crave fresh summery foods - cucumber, tomato, lettuce, fish. Directly after the gym today I rushed to my local Waitrose and picked up some Tilapia (a fish I rarely see in the UK but which reminds me of home). And next to it, resting on ice in the fish counter, my prize for the 30 minutes of aerobic hell I'd just gone through: something I'd only heard of and seen twice in cooking shows: Samphire!

I quickly grabbed a pack, and rushed off to my kitchen, eager for a fresh, summery and tasty adventure.

* * *

Samphire: My "Summer by the Sea" on a Plate


samphire and Cornish wooden fish

Why Summer?
I know technically summer hasn't started, but for me, mentally, summer always starts as soon as May hits. As a kid in Texas, May was the beginning of the end. Pools opened, school wound down, and before you knew it you were running out those double-doors, practically flinging your clothes off to reveal the swimsuit you'd been secretly wearing to school for the past week, feral screams echoing behind you, exuberantly, shamelessly cannon-balling into the local pool.

I didn't grow up by the seaside, but I always wished I had. Maybe it's for that reason that I'm obsessed with seafood and fish. It's my way of vicariously transporting myself to a beach campfire where fresh catch is simply seasoned and thrown on a large romantic fire and cool white wine flows freely. I think Samphire is and has always been the element missing from that beautiful dinner-time mirage.

Sadly, Samphire is only a summer thing. It has a very short season from June to August (though apparently in the UK you can get it in May too!), so now is the time to pounce.


Why Samphire?
What is Samphire? It's seaweed, simply put. But a whole lot prettier than Nori or the stuff that tangles itself in your toes and freaks you out at the beach. Salicornia sp. is a seashore bush common in the UK and has bright green, succulent stems. It was once used in glassware manufacture, where it got its nickname glasswort. In fact, in the 14th Century glassmakers would locate their workshops near regions where it was plentiful as it was so useful to them. Most know it as "marsh samphire" not to be confused with its less tasty and nasty looking companion "rock samphire" (source).

I had to try it the moment I saw it. It's a deliciously bright green, and looks like every drawing of the perfect green seaweed you've ever seen in a cartoon or book. It is fresh and summery looking and tasting. The perfect accompaniment to my fake summer by the sea.

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Tilapia and Steamed Samphire
with Beurre Meunière

Serves 2

This recipe can be used just as a side dish - the perfect accompaniment to any simply cooked, fresh seafood dish, but I used the sauce for both the samphire and Tilapia.

My version of beurre meunière deviates slightly from the traditional recipe in that I use half lemon juice, half sherry vinegar, and add shallots and lemon zest for a little more substance. It is substantial in flavor, but otherwise such a simple, classic sauce that it doesn't detract in any way from the Samphire or fish. The perfect summer dish, if you ask me. : )

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Ingredients

100g Fresh Samphire, rinsed well
4 filets of Tilapia, boneless and skinless
2 tbsp flour

For the Beurre Meunière:
1 regular or 2 small shallots, finely chopped
125g or 4 oz unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
2 tsp sherry vinegar
2 tsp fresh lemon juice
1/2 tsp lemon zest, or finely chopped lemon skin
1 tbsp parsley, chopped

Method
1. Season the fish with salt and pepper, then dredge in the flour.

2. Melt about 1/4 of the butter in a saucepan and allow it to come to a bubble. Add the filets of fish one at a time and cook for about 1-2 minutes on each side, until the fish is just opaque and slightly golden. Remove the fish to a warm plate.

3. Add the rest of the butter and allow it to come to a bubble over lowish heat. Allow it to brown slightly (as if you were making a roux). When it is golden and nutty smelling, add the shallots and cook for a minute.

4. Add the lemon juice, vinegar and parsley and cook for 30 seconds, remove from heat but keep sauce warm.

5. Steam the samphire (this can be done while you are making the sauce and should only take 2-4 minutes if it is fresh).

5. Serve immediately: plate the samphire first, with a filet of fish or two over it. Spoon the sauce over both and garnish with a thin slice of lemon.

Defying Racial or Ethnic Categorization: Mexican Tabbouleh

It may be Lebanese, but the color palette is distinctly Mexican :)

Growing up most of my life there was always a dilemma when I had to fill out a government issued document which requested I specify my "race" and "ethnicity." Back then (and maybe now too - haven't filled one out in a while) the "racial categories" looked a little like this:

Please select ONE:
White
Black
Native American or Alaska Native
Asian
Other: (please specify) _______________

So where exactly did I fit in? Apparently I am not the only one who had this problem. I suppose as a small child my parents probably made the decision for me, but as an adolescent, and in a world where being "other" was as good as wearing your underwear on the outside of your clothes for the rest of the 8th grade, the decision was an uncharted mine field of worries and insecurities.

Brenda's Adolescent Stream-of-Consciousness Thought Process

*deep breath*

Am I white? Well, white usually means European...and light eyes. But I have Spanish blood. Isn't that European? And some Spaniards have light eyes. But I don't have light eyes, or light skin. Although it's not really "dark." But I tan well. Well, I'm definitely not black, definitely not Native American...and definitely not Asian. But wait, technically Mexicans are kind of "native" to the Americas. And they were in Texas far before the whites. And anyway what makes them different from the Karankawas or the Comanches? I guess they didn't live in teepees. Whatever...but am I white enough to be "other white" or am I just "other?" Why don't they just put HISPANIC!? Or wait, is that an ethnicity? Maybe I'll ask the teacher. No, she won't know. Who cares anyway? Aren't these things supposed to be voluntary? Ugh, what-ever. Other. I guess I'm "other."

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And then there was the dreaded "please specify" blank where I had to decide what kind of "other" I was - whether I should write "Hispanic," "Latina," "Mexican." I felt like going up to the teacher and saying in my best Wire-esque Sen. Clay Davis accent, "Shiiiiiiiiit lady, if the school and government aren't clear on what is and isn't a race, how the hell am I supposed to be? This is some shameful shiiiiiiit." But I'm not that ghetto. Or brave.

It was actually kind of laughable in the end. The choice - at least I believe so - never really mattered much in terms of how I saw myself or how my teachers and good friends treated me. In reality, oddly, it was a chance for reflection on my racial identity and how that fit - or didn't - with everyone around me. I suppose that's a strange but good opportunity I would not have been afforded had I been able to just check the "white" box without a single doubt in my mind from the start.

But it wasn't until many years later, in college, that I found out that technically I would not have been so very wrong to do so. As that's when I started noticing government documents had added new racial categories including "White Hispanic" and "Black Hispanic." That made my life a little easier because then at least I didn't have to be "other" anymore. : )

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White Hispanics: The Mexican-Lebanese & Tabbouleh

I bet you didn't know it but there is a huge Lebanese population in Mexico. Those two cultures are not necessarily an obvious match, but they seem to have melded quite nicely and even turned out several delicious hybrid foods and people.

If you want some of the history behind this in a concise readable manner, check this article out about the Lebanese in Puebla, Mexico. In the meantime, here are, to me, the four most interesting points regarding Mexican-Lebanese gastronomy, life love and the defying of racial categorization. >: )

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Top Four Interesting Points Regarding Love, Mexican-Lebanese,
Tabbouleh and Racial Categorization to boot.
salads, brides - the whole nine yards

4. Tacos Arabes?!
If you've ever seen a Mexican Tacos Al Pastor taco stand, you know how similar it looks to a kebab shop. The meat is skewered and roasted vertically on a spit (or trompo, in Spanish), much like shawarma or the Turkish döner kebab. Thanks to Lebanese immigrants, almost everywhere now, you can buy "Tacos Arabes" in Mexico which refers to meat shaved off the shawarma-like spit and served on thick flour tortillas - the closest thing to pita or "pan Arabe" you'll find in most Mexican households.

And the traditional "kebab" was taken one further step away from its originally heritage when Mexicans invented "tacos al pastor" or "shepherd tacos" which are also roasted on a trompo with a giant chunk of pineapple at the top. Though they pay homage to their origins in the name, these tacos are generally made of pork, not lamb, and always served on corn tortillas - the Mexican way.


3. White Hispanics?!
What is a "white Hispanic?" Well, turns out it is a Hispanic who is racially white. I am still unclear on what that means exactly - but my best guess would probably be something like: "Hispanics with European ancestry." But then that doesn't really fit people like Salma Hayek (acress extraordinaire) or Carlos Slim (richest man in the world), or me for that matter, now does it? So basically it seems to be a definition of exclusion: people who are not racially black, Asian or "native."

When you put it that way, it all seems rather convoluted and unnecessary, dontcha think? : )


2. The Tabbouleh Test?!
Tabbouleh is not a complex dish, but it does include several components, and how one chops, blends and proportions these components makes a big difference in terms of taste and authenticity. Is the bulgur soft enough? Is the dressing too acid or too oily? Are the tomatoes and cucumbers too small or too large? And is the parsley pervasive or an afterthought? As a Mexican home cook, I'm not too bothered one way or another as long as it tastes good. But if you're a Lebanese man's fiancee, there is a lot more at stake!

In Lebanese culture it is customary to test a future bride's worthiness by having her make Tabbouleh for the women of the husband-to-be's family. The woman is judged particularly on how finely she can chop the parsley and whether or not she allowed any of the tough parsley stems into the mix. I don't know if I would have made it.


1. Mexican Tabbouleh?!
I always found it rather odd that my mother grew up eating Tabbouleh on a regular basis in a fully-Mexican household deep in the heart of Mexico City. But once I started reading about the Lebanese influx into Mexico, it all made sense.

Despite the salad being of Lebanese and Arab origin, it has become extremely popular in Mexico and throughout Latin America. My family has modified it slightly to fit their Mexican palate, and I have further made it my own with tweaks here and there. It appeals because it is fresh, inexpensive, and delicious - and goes well with almost any meal, as a starter, side or even main. And if you're one of those people who thinks parsley is nothing more than a garnish found at diners - this is the dish that makes that under-appreciated herb really shine.

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Brenda's Mexican Tabbouleh
Serves 6


An ethnically ambiguous version of Tabbouleh.

This is a great springtime salad, and let's face it, despite the last clouds and cool breezes hanging about, spring has sprung my friends!

I have altered this traditionally Lebanese salad by reducing the amount of parsley, adding copious amounts of lime (I am Mexican after alll!) and garlic, and mixing in generous amounts of ripe avocado. I serve it as a side dish with breaded chicken Milanese and mashed potatoes, or as a full lunch accompanied by some pita and a couple of hard boiled eggs.


Ingredients
1 cup bulgur wheat
1 cucumber, peeled
1 medium ripe tomato
2-3 ripe haas avocados, chopped roughly
4-5 limes (or lemons), juiced (about 1 cup juice)
3 cloves garlic, finely minced
1 cup parsley, finely chopped (no stems!)
1/3 cup good olive oil
salt and pepper to taste


Method
1. Pour raw bulgur wheat into a large, flat container so that it is in a thin layer. Pour lime juice over it - there should be extra lime juice around the wheat, which will soak in. Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate for 4-6 hours or until the bulgur wheat has soaked up all the lemon juice and is soft.

2. Dice the cucumber and tomatoes into small squares and add to the bulgur wheat. Add the parsley, garlic and avocado.

3. Pour the olive oil over everything, salt and pepper to taste and then mix. Add more lime juice or olive oil as necessary. Serve cool.

بالهنا والشفا
Bon Appetit

Randomized and Semi-Legitimized Self-Absorption Continues.

Celebratory holiday-cracker paper crowns: random and semi-legitimate in a good way

A year ago I started this blog, kicking it off with an almost-but-not-quite self-deprecating confession of a blogger-wannabe and rounding it off with the infamous "25 Random Things About Me" post, or, a long, drawn out way to semi-legitimize my own brand of self-absorption, courtesy of the 20 million people who tagged me in their "20 Random Things" post on facebook (yeah, I made it 25 because I had more to say).

Honestly, why do people bother? What makes them or me think anybody wants to read 20 random pieces of information about them, almost all of which are entirely useless in the real-world and probably only interesting on a highly questionable level? Well, (again with the honesty) let's be honest, someone could probably (and probably already has) write his dissertation on the 20 Random Thing post phenomenon alone, much less blogging and why people are drawn to do it or read it. All of this writing and telling of random things that are self-absorbed and only semi-legitimized got me to thinking - why not kick off this year's blogging with 20 more random things about myself?

As if you haven't already gleaned enough insider information from my posts, here it is, all in one convenient location and with more detail than necessary (we all know that's how I roll), all random, and all about little old me.

PS: I'm not reading last year's post until I'm done writing this. It'll be interesting to see how similar they are. :)

PPS: Happy 2010. I'm less than a year from 30. But who's counting?

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20 Random Things About Me
*fiendish-introductory-bugle-ditty*

1. Eggs are not my favorite food, but if I had to name the one food I have consistently eaten almost every single day of my life (when given the choice) and not gotten sick of, it would be them. Sunny-side up. None of this "over-easy" bullshit.

2. In the past year I have gone from claiming to hate baking to loving and often indulging in it. I used to take the "I'm-too-creative-I-just-wing-it-all-the-time-that's-why-I-prefer-cooking approach." I now consider that philosophy and those who ascribe to it arrogant, lame and lazy. Just follow the damn recipe. The results are worth it.

3. This year over Christmas break I tried a "buttered rum" for the first time while dining with good friends at the Griswold Inn. I can now say with clarity why it is that I always hated the butter-rum dum-dums: those flavors should only be savored in liquid form. All the faster to consume them.

4. I, in part, ended up majoring in Classics at University because I had a crush on one of the Art History professors who gave the lecture in my intro to Art History class freshman year. (Let me be clear, the feeling was not mutual, but I got a hell of an education out of the deal. :) )

5. When I grow up I want an orchard. And I want it to have lots of different fruit and flower trees including but not limited to: lemon, lime, cherry, apple, orange, pear, fig, almond, mulberry, oak, olive, bay, sycamore (far from the house because I'm allergic), mimosa, magnolia...

6. I hate walking through the perfume section in department stores because it gives me a headache.

7. I think I'm addicted to food. Maybe now is not the time for that confession, but there it is. :)

8. I reiterate that I think I would never get sick of eating giant shrimp, especially ones grilled on a hot summer day, having been previously marinated in olive oil, garlic and pepperoncino, with a squirt of fresh lemon juice.

9. One of the only books I've ever read more than once is Tuck Everlasting (a girl named Amy gave it to me for my birthday in Fourth Grade). I read it once a year (if not more) up well into high school, and it made me cry inconsolably every single time.

10. My favorite Jolly Rancher is Sour Apple and my least favorite is Watermelon. That has always and will always be true, I suspect.

11. I once hitch-hiked from North Germany to Amsterdam with some friends and, contrary to what everyone would have you believe about hitchhiking, I indeed lived to tell the tale. That said, I'd probably flip if Roman or any of my future kids ever wanted to do it themselves. :D

12. I poach eggs in the microwave on a pretty regular basis, and feel no shame whatsoever about that.

13. I love to shop at the Salvation Army for nick-nacks. LOVE it.

14. I find myself happiest around people who abstain from discussing their political views in overzealous-addict-like-kool-aid-drinking-semi-religious fashion.

15. One of my new favorite foods is Keema Gobhi.

16. I want desperately to learn to ski well - both downhill and cross-country and seriously regret not taking those sports up as hobbies in the pre-child life.

17. My favorite teachers in school were always my English teachers.

18. And yes, I did almost always sit in the front of the class, but I was not a suck-up.

19. I love to pick pomegranates apart, one little nugget of juicy deliciousness at a time, and make it a personal challenge to not burst a single one every time I do it.

20. I often indulge in talking to an imaginary cooking show audience while I cook, and think my food actually comes out better because of the feedback I get. :)


Who knows how much blogging I'll actually do in this second year, but here goes nothin'... :)


This post is brought to you by the Theme from "The Monkees." Because it doesn't get any more random and semi-legitimate than that.

Life Coaching and Mindless Eating.

Thanks to my dear friend and bride-to-be (not mine!) Krista at Bohemian Ghoulash for the inspiration for today's post. While strolling the streets of Chicago she was kind enough to spare a thought for me and take this picture, which she then sent via cyberspace in order to encourage my random but apparently obvious-enough preoccupation with Life Coaches and their sheer hilarity. (Yes, someone is bound to be offended by that - whattayagonnado?)

Anyway, here's the picture:

For only $10.00 you too can learn your future, be healed AND get a coach for all things life-related!

Thanks for that Dori.

Am I officially a jerk? :)

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The other thing Krista threw my way was a cool little quiz in the New York Times.

Go here to take the quiz (just write your answers on a piece of paper) and then read the follow-up article that explains your cooking personality here. (What else do you really have to do on a Wednesday afternoon?)

Krista seems to be particularly apt at finding interesting quizzes on one's kitchen-personality. I'm all about this kind of quiz for a couple of reasons:

Why I'm "All About" Random Food Personality Food Quizzes

and taking quizzes in magazines in general

3. Seventeen (or approximately so) Again
These quizzes take me back to the days of "What is your dating style?" or "What chocolate truffle best describes your love language?" in Seventeeen magazine. As adolescents my friends and I poured over those silly quizzes, swearing they held the answer to our future love-lifes in their clutches. That and M.A.S.H. (and I don't mean the Vietnam war show for all you old fogies). Yes, there is an electronic version of it now. Where was that 15 years ago?!


2. Super-fancy Nutritional Jargon
These types of quizzes arm us kitchen-pro-wannabes with just enough legitimate sounding but fun kitchen terms to make us (or at least me) feel highly scientific discussing our place in the family as kitchen-wench. I plan entirely to enthrall Matt and my chef brother-in-law with terms like "Nutritional Gate-keeper" and "Innovative Cook" vs. "Giving Cook." Both Krista and I were "Innovative," in case you're curious. *enthusiastic high five to self*


1. Food for Thought. Or Thought for Food. Whatever.

Plus, this quiz reminded me of a really cool discussion regarding food and the sociological / gender-related place it has in our lives that my friend over at Tangled Noodle recently did a three-part feature on. Interestingly, both the quiz and her discussion come from the book Mindless Eating by Dr. Brian Wansink (apparently quite the hot ticket!). They are sure to give you some super-food for thought if you're a nerd like me in this regard. :) Check it out.

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