Savoring Summer

Ready and Set for Pickling

Meandering through the back roads of Rhode Island today, time-traveling back in history to the days of homesteading and into old colonial farmsteads, showing their well-worn years and maintained through several generations still tilling the land. Cows languidly lying beneath the oak trees in the late September sun. Goats continually eating their weight in grass and brush, clearing the land. Black sheep scattering through a wind-kissed field next to the tall stalks of corn ready to be harvested from now into the early Autumn. The same feeling I get when traveling through Tuscany with my friends Pat, Wende and Judy Witts-Francini on our food tours. A lazy day spent exploring and laughing with friends that I've known now and in lives past.
Stopping at a farm with my friend Katie to buy some ears of "popping" corn that will be dry in time for a late night snack on Thanksgiving night around the table with a game of cards amongst friends. The farmer proudly displaying a photo taken from the air of their corn maze in the shape of a large and looming, yet friendly enough cow. Taking the road further we come into a town that "feel's just right". You know the feeling. A place that you know has been waiting for you to discover it, patiently by the side of that road. North Scituate. We stopped for lunch at a small restaurant, or coffee shop, or meeting place. A spot right out of a movie set, The Village Bean. Waitresses cracking their dry New England wit with the regulars who lean patiently against the counter, glancing at us "newcomers" eating our turkey sandwiches. Then, back down the road again to my friend Doreen at Pezza Farms for a half bushel of tomatoes for my upcoming "You Say Tomato, I Say Tomatl" class at the Grange. I can never resist the freshness of her produce. A few pounds of hot cherry peppers destined to be made into gifts of jam to spread on cream cheese, to glaze a chicken or pork tenderloin. But today, a quick recipe for some pickled tomatoes to peck on before dinner or to add to my martini, in lieu of the usual olive. Very simple. Very good.

Tomatoes packed in their jars

Pickled Tomatoes

2½ pints Grape Tomatoes

8 Pepperoncini Peppers, jarred
4 Dill sprigs, fresh; stemmed
4 Garlic cloves, gently smashed
1 tsp. whole black peppercorns
1 Cup Cider Vinegar
1¼ Cups Water
2½ Tbl. Kosher Salt
1 Tbl. Sugar

Combine peppercorns, tomatoes, pepperoncini, dill, and garlic in a sterilized 2 quart glass jar with a tight fitting lid. Bring vinegar, salt, sugar, and 1¼ cups water to a boil in a saucepan; stir until salt and sugar dissolve. Pour vinegar mixture over tomatoes to ½” from the top and wipe rim clean.

Seal jar and let it cool completely. Refrigerate for up to 2 weeks.

Alternately – Process the jars, lids and rings in boiling water fully covered for 20 minutes. Remove and dry upside-down on clean dish towels. Add the tomatoes to the jars, fill with the liquid to ½” from the top, wipe rim clean for a perfect seal and top with lids. Screw on rings tightly and place in a large pot covered with water by at least 1”. Bring water to a boil and process for 10 minutes from the minute it begins to boil. Remove carefully back onto a rack and let cool for 24 hours without touching them. They’ll keep for several months this way unrefrigerated in your cupboard.

A gift for myself and my friends

A Late Summer Picnic for One

Oh don't let that title mislead you or conjure up feelings of sorrow for your dear author. A picnic, whether shared with friends, a canine pal or just by myself affords me the purest and simplest of pleasures that I can ever imagine. Something spontaneous. Impromptu. Such a magical, carefree word that is, Impromptu. What's in the cupboard? What's in the refrigerator? What kind of a feast can I produce with what is on hand? Simplicity is best, I think. Taking advantage of what the current season has to offer. Naturally, tomatoes of all colors come to mind. Some sharp, salty and piquant cheese to balance the sweet acidity of the fruit, along with the bitterness of some homemade oil cured olives. Remembrances of a lesson about olive-making taught to me by my Grandmother so many years ago in the scary basement of her house. That magical and mysterious, dusty gallon jar sitting on an old, wooden shelf by the washing machine. One trip they were green, swimming in a brine. The next, they were darker remnants of their former verdant selves. Still another trip and they were shriveled and coated in olive oil with red pepper flakes heaped in her blue and white plate, sitting on the dining room table being picked at by eager fingers.

As a boy, I was told to try everything at least once. "You never have to have it again if you don't like it.", was the familiar mantra that still rings to this day from my Mother's lips. That saying has led me far in life, especially now that I cook and teach people how to cook and experience the beauty of the process. It was also a way of her training my mind to be open to new things in this life. Try it all. See it all. Feel it all. Experience it all. Isn't that really the grand lesson to learn from the word "Life"? I think at times we travel down the same worn out food path that our eyes never look up and see the wonder that is given and surrounds us. For me, food always offers something new to experience. To see. To feel. To smell. To taste. And, even to hear. The snap of a green bean. That crunch of an apple.

Here in New England, Fall is on its way. There's something in the air. My mind is beginning to think of warming, comfort food. Roast chickens with crackled skin, braised beef in Chianti, root vegetables caramelized in the oven over high heat to bring out their natural sweetness and goodness. I assure you that I'll include more recipes with sustenance. More beef, more chicken, and more of the pleasures that our local waters in Rhode Island provide for us. Honest flavors. Simplicity and warmth. Something to take on a picnic under the shedding, multi-colored leaves with a loved one or friends.

Or maybe, just maybe you might want to indulge yourself on a luxurious, unapologetic picnic for one.

Corn, Off the Cob and Into the Bowl

Hot August memories of driving with my parents in that same Ford Country Squire station wagon to The Corn Palace to get the freshest ears that were picked that morning. My sister and I squabbling about something and my mother's red, laquered fingernails reaching to separate the two of us from the front seat, while my father bellowed, "You don't want me to stop this car do you? I will!" That was enough for the two of us to quiet down, but still glare at each other when my father wasn't looking in the rearview mirror. My mother patting her French twist hair-do to make sure that it was in place, a subtle signal for the two of us to keep quiet.
My sister and father were the "corn experts" in the family. They could detect the freshness, the sweetness and knew everything there was to picking out and buying the best ears for our dinner. When I was younger I considered corn to be solely a vehicle to sop up that precious butter that held more interest. That glistening and well-anointed cob, dripping its salty slick down my arm as I devoured those kernels from one side of the cob to the other. My front teeth acting like voracious keys on an old-fashioned typewriter carriage, back and forth, back and forth.
But, while it's gratifying to eat a buttery ear of corn right off the cob, (although now with no butter or salt, but simply a splash of juice from a lemon or lime) there is so much that I really love to do with those sweet, milky kernels once they have been freed from the ear that they had clung. No, I'm not going far back to the times of the local Pequot and Narragansett Indians and dry it, grind it in the old stone mill that I just happen to have lying about in the backyard and serve up some Rhode Island Johnnycakes. That's another lesson. Oh, I could sauté the corn in some sweet-cream butter with a few simply snipped garlic chives from the garden, some diced tomatoes and christen it with crumbs of a salty feta or a ricotta salata. Or, I could add it to my Hush Puppies that are crisp on the outside and pillowy soft on the inside, spiced with some heat from the Kung Pao peppers that I've dried and cherished from last year's garden.

I'd rather share with you a recipe that contains the ulitmate in creaminess and the maximum in flavor from each kernel (and the cob) to create a soup that is lusciously simple. My Summer Corn Soup with Tomato Gremolata. The gremolata is an accent that enlivens it more with "Summer". But, feel free to add a couple of tablespoons of fresh crab or lobster to each bowl. Sauté a few shrimp and then chop them up to sprinkle on top. Or maybe use it as a base for a chowder inspired by the unlimited imaginations that I know you have within you.
   

Summer Corn Soup

With

Tomato Gremolatta

 

2 Tbl. Butter, unsalted

½ Yellow Onion, medium; diced

½ Russet Potato, large; diced

1½ Cups Milk, plus 1 Cup

1½ Cups Corn Stock* (okay, you can use veg. or chicken stock if you must)

4 ears of Corn, cut from the cob, or

     3 Cups of Corn kernels, frozen

½ tsp. Sea Salt or to taste

In a medium saucepan over medium high heat, melt the butter until it begins to foam. Add the onion and thyme; cook until the onion is translucent, about 8 minutes. Add potato, 1 ½ cups of milk and stock, and bring to a gentle simmer. Simmer for about 10 minutes and add corn kernels. Cook for an additional 10 minutes.

Remove soup from stove and take out the thyme sprig. Using a hand held emersion blender, purée the soup until the corn and onions are smooth (if using a blender, work in batches, puréeing until smooth).

Return soup to a medium low heat and add salt and remaining cup of milk. Stirring occasionally, cook for 5 minutes.

Remove from stove and serve with the garnish of your choice. If the soup is too thick, thin it out with more stock.

*Corn Stock

4 Corn Cobs, kernels removed

4 Cups Water

8 Black Peppercorns, whole

1 Bay leaf, small

2-4” Thyme sprigs

In a small stock pot, add all of the ingredients and bring to a boil. Once the water begins to boil, lower it to a simmer and cover for 1 hour.

After the hour has finished, remove the cover. With tongs, take out the cobs, bay leaf and thyme sprigs. Turn heat back to high and boil, reducing to 1 ½ -2 cups. Use as directed.

Hot Summer Corn Soup with a Cool Tomato Gremolata & Sauteed Shrimp 

Tomato Gremolata

1 Heirloom tomato, seeded and diced ¼ ″

½ Cup Italian Parsley, chopped fine

½ Lemon, juiced and zested

1 Green Onion, finely chopped

Salt and freshly ground Black Pepper to taste.

3 Tbl. Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Mix all ingredients and set aside for drizzling on the soup.

On Becoming Italian

A Bouquet of Herbs for a Friend

Once in awhile you have the sheerest of pleasures to meet someone who, as my father used to say "fits like an old shoe." Comfortable. Someone that seems you have known in a past life. Paths that must have crossed in the long forgotten mists of time. The warmth of the greeting and common interests shared and savored as you walk the cobblestone streets together. Those of you that travel with me on my tours throughout Tuscany know her and have experienced her generous and warming spirit. There can be no other accolades that describe Judy Witts-Francini enough. She is the Diva of Divina Cucina fame (www.divinacucina.com). Her knowledge and insights into Italian culture, from an American perspective, literally transform you into the Italian you long to be when traveling there. One that sits down to eat with locals willing to share their passions, be they food, wine or just some of lifes simple pleasures. Sometimes all it requires is a smile shared between two people who don't speak each other's language, and yet that smile says all that needs to be said.

At the Central Market in Florence

There are no pretenses when you're with her. What you see is truly what you get. Her curiosity is infectious. Driving with her through the Tuscan hills and all of a sudden she remembers a little dairy that is making the Marzolino cheese, a sheep's milk cheese only produced in March. We drive further and stop at a local market that is held in one of the many small towns and select our produce for our meals that day. The choices are endless, but with the seasoning of a well-heeled general, Judy helps focus her little troops with a few glorious ingredients and not the entire market stall. 
If I were to come up with only one word (and that would be difficult) to describe the way Judy cooks, it would be - Simple. Simplicity of ingredients, each contributing to the ultimate outcome and complimenting one another to paint a masterpiece in taste. 

Clockwise from Top Left - Lemon Thyme, Italian Parsley, French Thyme, Sage, Rosemary, Lemon Zest, Garlic, Sea Salt

It's this time of year that I have an abundance of herbs that I begin to think of preserving for the coming months. Sage, Rosemary, Thyme. The freshness of these combined with the pungency of some garlic cloves and perhaps a little lemon zest and salt all chopped together and made into a heady melange of perfumes reminding me of the Tuscany that I love. Of the stalls brimming with the freshest produce the likes you have never seen before. The tastes given to you by vendors to feed into that complete sensory overload that you will remember and recall whenever you become "homesick" for your adopted country. An herb mix to sprinkle on your chicken or pork dishes. Maybe a baked piece of Cod or Sea Bass. Possibly some carrots pulled right from the garden, washed and tossed with some olive oil and roasted until just tender. But, most importantly, you will recall that new friend who shared this recipe with you that you swear you have known all of your life. The one who helped you "become" Italian and experience life as you know it should be lived, the Divina - Judy Witts-Francini.

The Final Chop Waiting to Dry

Tuscan Herbs

1 Cup Rosemary leaves

1 Cup Sage leaves

1 Cup Italian Parsley

½ Cup Thyme

Strips of Lemon zest

2-3 Garlic cloves, sliced

1 tsp. Salt, plus more as needed

Place the herbs, garlic and lemon zest on a large cutting board, sprinkle with the salt and using a chef’s knife or mezzaluna begin chopping until all is combined to a fine texture. About 20 minutes – really!

Once you have finished chopping and are satisfied with the degree of fineness, place in a wide bowl or on a baking sheet and leave out to dry. Depending upon the weather, this can take a few days to a week. Every time you pass by, “fluff” it and release some “Tuscany” into your surroundings. When dried, place in a jar and use to season your cooking. This mixture does not need to be refrigerated. And, remember that this mixture already has salt, so use accordingly with your recipes.

Note – Any combination or amount may be used. This is a recipe that is not written in stone and you can use what is on hand and constantly replenish what you have used.

Tomatoes - Summer's Gift of a Cool Saturation of Flavor



Garden Perfection

I realize that we see tomatoes in the markets year round, but I truly believe that they are there only to serve as a reminder of what we are really waiting for, a recipe or dish made with tomatoes ripened to such perfection that the redness is not just on the surface, but infused to the core of the fruit. Until around July, the ingredient missing most in these pretenders to the throne of taste is the heady scent that only the sun can lend to the skin and flesh of a native-grown tomato that ripens outdoors. Oh sure, you can buy a "vine-ripened" imposter that has been raised in a greenhouse, bathed in warmth. But there is nothing like a locally harvested gem begging for you to taste its lusciousness and recall how Summer truly tastes. Meander and hunt for them in farmers’ markets, or beg some from a friend who grows them if you don't have a patch of your own. Look up local farms in your area that sell them and gather a few, savoring the simplicity and purity that only a tomato raised in the heat of the sun can provide. I remove the skin by plunging the tomatoes into hot water for a minute or two; it is not too much trouble to do and allows them to soak up more of the grassiness and "olive-y" flavor of a perfect extra virgin olive oil.

This simple salad reminds me of my childhood experiences of sitting around the table on a late Summer afternoon. My father breaking into a loaf of freshly baked Italian bread and the family gathered around my grandmother’s dining room table. I can still instantly recall the sight and perfume of that heavenly puddle of greenish oil and pink tomato juice in bottom of the cracked black and white bowl with the farm scene on it. I would gladly help clear the table and carry the bowl into the kitchen and drink up what was left of that mid-Summer treasure hidden from view from those still seated in the dining room. Now I am happy to eat just this as a meal in itself, especially this month when locally grown vegetables reach their zenith of flavor. Some tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil, maybe a bare sprinkle of a good balsamic vinegar to wake up the palette and a scatter of fresh oregano leaves. Light and simple. Summer is at hand and the vigor and brightness that it brings to our tables can only be summed up in the simplicity of that word - Tomato.

Jewels Fit for a Crown

The Farm

I always speak of "the farm" in my cooking classes. Depending upon the context it could be "the farm" I visit most frequently near me in Rhode Island, Pezza Farms. Or, it could be "the farm" that my Aunt Doris had up in Gorham, Maine that we used to visit during the various seasons. There's a special place in my heart for farmers because of my Aunt Doris and Uncle Bud. Both up early, tending to the chickens, the cows, Liza the pig and the horses. Not to mention the fields on their 40 acres. I fondly remember visiting in the Summer and picking the small, wild Maine blueberries. And in the Winter, chopping a tree down for Christmas in the back forty and bringing it home to the family farmhouse that had been in the family for generations, trudging through the snow-covered woods with our cheeks so "Norman Rockwell-ian" rosy and then begging for one more sleigh ride, my sister and I bundled next to Uncle Bud at the reigns before we came in for hot chocolate and bed.
Yesterday, my friend Katie and I visited Pezza Farms and had a wonderful chat with Doreen Pezza. She can tell you anything and everything about growing this and that. What a font of knowledge to glean from, especially for anything that you may want to grow in Rhode Island. Within a blink of her blue eyes, she'll gather what you want, where you want to put it and how you're going to cultivate it and with such enthusiasm that before you know it "you just have to raise one of 'those' too"! Somehow you always find room. But, my main purpose was to see what produce she had to offer. The most beautiful heirloom cherry tomatoes beckoned, along with some fresh cries from gorgeous green beans. And then, in came Doreen's son with a bushel of sweet corn just picked. Well, how could I resist that? Never. The supper question was solved. Something easy, fresh, local and alright, alright...healthy.

Sautéed Cherry Tomatoes and Green Beans

With

Somewhat Fried Eggs

15-20 Cherry Tomatoes

1 Tbl. Extra Virgin Olive Oil

2 Garlic cloves, small; minced

2 Anchovy Filets, packed in oil; whole

Green Beans, a good handful*

2 Eggs, large

Salt and freshly ground pepper to taste

Italian or French Bread, sliced and toasted**

Wash and slice each cherry tomato in half, place in bowl and set aside. Preheat a medium non-stick skillet or 3 quart non-stick sauté pan over medium high heat for about 3 minutes. If you prefer a regular skillet or sauté pan, add another tablespoon of olive oil.

Jewel-like Cherry Tomatoes with Anchovies

Turn down heat to medium and add the olive oil and heat to a shimmer. Add the minced garlic, sautéing until lightly golden. Continue with placing the tomatoes and anchovies into the pan as well and cook until the tomatoes begin to soften and the anchovies begin to disappear, about 5-7 minutes. Scatter the green beans on top of the tomatoes and cover until beans begin to soften yet still retain some “bite”.

When beans have cooked, remove them from the pan and set aside. Remove tomatoes to a bowl, saving any liquid that is in the bottom of the pan. Crack each egg into the bottom of the pan in any remaining liquid and cover until desired degree of doneness is achieved.

Place a slice of the toasted bread onto a plate and spoon the tomatoes on top, followed by the green beans. Place the eggs on top of that and add any remaining pan juices. Season with salt and pepper. Serve at once.

*The amount of green beans is entirely up to you. Asparagus is a wonderful substitute as well.

**For added flavor, rub each slice with a cut garlic clove after toasting.

Apologies for the blurry photo. I was so hungry!

Note-
I had a nice chilled glass of a Semillon with this, but other balanced white wines would be fantastic with this dish as well; Pinot Grigio/Pinot Gris, Sauvingon Blanc and the like. Just don't choose anything too "oaky".

It's Too Darned Hot!

This is the time of year that I tell myself, "Fall is the next season" to lend some sanity to a Summer in New England. The heat is stifling. Maybe if I had been raised in it I might have some form of acclimation. But truly, I've been a good boy and no one deserves this kind of weather. Why, when we are young do we not feel the fever of a burning July day (and night) so easily? Is it the amount of fat we've accumulated? The variety of medications our lovely doctors have prescribed to keep us going? Or, is it simply the age thing?
Whatever the reason, thoughts of braising, stews and hot soups fly right out the open window when I feel this way. Salads, fruit, cold soups, even simple bread and cheese with a cold, crisp hard cider or a cool glass of my favorite French Rosé wine from Provence all take precedence in my menu planning. The Early Girl tomatoes are showing up at the local farmer's markets, along with assorted heirlooms and they all beg "Pick me Joe! Pick me!"
This is the time of year that the tomato reigns absolutely supreme. The kings and queens of produce. No other time of year do they taste this good. No hot house or supposed "vine-ripened" imposters are even considered for the multitude of ideas that call. Tomato sandwiches on my good Irish Brown Bread spread simply with homemade mayonnaise. Nothing can beat the taste, bringing  back memories of picking them in the garden as a little boy with a salt shaker tucked into the back pocket of my blue, railroad striped overalls.

Jewels waiting for their setting

Today, some beauties gave me that "come hither" look and demanded to be made into a cold soup. Something that I make when even a Gazpacho seems too much to think about preparing. My simple Chilled Tomato Soup with some grilled corn, feta and (feeling very French lately...more like wishing I were there lately) dotted with a basil pistou. I hope you like it and dream about the south of France with me and the sound of the cicadas ringing though the breeze while the dogs nap silently in the shade of an old pine tree. Thoughts and tastes like these get me through these sultry days. An Fall IS the next season.
Photos will follow. I promise.

Chilled Tomato Soup

with

Grilled Corn, Feta and Basil Pistou

1 Garlic clove, medium

¼ Cup Basil leaves

Sea Salt

¼ Cup, plus 2 Tbl. Extra Virgin Olive Oil

2 ears Corn

2 lb. Heirloom Tomatoes, perfectly ripe

3 Tbl. Lemon juice, fresh

Freshly ground black pepper

½ lb. Feta cheese, crumbled

Make the Pistou-

Place the garlic, basil, and a pinch of sea salt in a food processor and puree until smooth. Add 2 Tbs. of the olive oil and mix well. Let rest at room temperature for 1 hour.

Grill the Corn-

Heat a gas grill to high or prepare a hot charcoal fire. Cut off the tip of the corn’s husks (to make it easier to remove the husks once grilled). Grill the corn in the husk for 15 to 20 minutes, giving it a quarter turn every 5 minutes, keeping the grill covered (the kernels should be cooked but not charred). When it’s cool enough to handle, remove all of the husk and silk. With a sharp knife, cut the kernels off the cob. Set the kernels aside.

Make the Soup-

Core the tomatoes and cut them into chunks. Working in two batches, put half the tomatoes in a blender with 1 tablespoon of the lemon juice and ¼ cup of the olive oil in each batch. Season with a generous pinch of sea salt and black pepper, and blend on high speed until smooth. Strain through a fine sieve, pressing on any solids to get all of the liquid through the mesh. Taste and adjust the seasonings if necessary. Chill until ready to serve.

Mix the corn and feta together in a bowl. Divide the soup among four chilled soup bowls. Spoon the feta/corn mixture onto each serving. Stir the pistou and then drizzle it over the soup. Serve at once.

A Fresh & Light Supper or Lunch

Note-
Sometimes I can't resist putting thick slice of toasted leftover Italian bread rubbed with a cut clove of raw garlic in the bottom of the bowl and covering it with the soup for more substance.