I submitted an entry into the Queen Anne Farmers Market Holy Tomato! Contest last week. The objective: showcase the glory of the tomato. The parameters? None. What would you do? What do you think I did? Apparently I’m predictable as all get out, in more ways than one, since everyone who saw my dish (who knows me or my blog) took one look at it and knew I created it. I guess that means I have a niche, but sometimes it’s a little frustrating to be pigeonholed, especially if it’s the same hole you’ve been pigeoning around in more or less your entire life. I’ve always been, how do I say this properly, fringe-y. The first award I ever won was “most shocking pumpkin” at a pumkin-carving school contest when I was seven. Apparently sticking two meat cleavers on either side of the jack-o-lantern face was shock-inducing. Imagine a kid bringing that pumpkin to school in this day and age- seems crazy now that they let me get away with it.

The next award came along in junior high (this is not counting all the statewide spelling bee’s I so nerdily won, mind you) when I was voted “snazziest dresser.” WTF did snazzy mean in the 1990’s, people? I’m sure it was for the time I made a pair of bellbottoms out of upholstery fabric I found at the Goodwill and then tied 20 bells around the cuffs of each leg. I got sent home because my outfit was “disruptive.” Then in high school I was voted “most likely to be on the cover of Rolling Stone.” I have no idea where that one came from considering I haven’t played an instrument since the cello in sixth grade, and even though I KNOW I can sing, I’ve been assured by everyone else who’s heard me that I can’t carry a tune nearly as well as I can carry a glass of vino to my lips repeatedly, which is apparently my true Olympic talent. It was around that time I realized my calling was Halloween costume contests. I’ve never met a Halloween contest I couldn’t win, and enjoyed much success in that realm, due, in large part, to the fact that I’ve never dolled myself up like a “ho” and blasphemed the holiday by using it as an excuse to look cheap and tawdry. Not that I haven’t gone nearly nude, it’s just usually in more of an intellectual, complicated sort of way, and there tends to be fire shooting out my nipples or something equally as startling.

All this is to illustrate the fact that I’ve been eternally shoved into the odd box and I can’t seem to get out, no matter how hard I try to do something that might compel the masses. I’m really not counterculture- I have friends who drive Range Rovers, live in Beverly Hills and Bellevue, have fake boobs and get botox injections. I’m sure I know a Republican or two, even. I guess I just have a place in life and I might as well make myself comfortable and kick up my heels. Which is why I should have known my tomato entry would win “most creative” before I ever thought up what I was going to make. I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining- I am thrilled to add a notch to my bedazzled, Gaga-fied, chartreuse, shiny dragonskin belt. I just sometimes wish the ideas that come into my head as perfectly normal things to do wouldn’t be met with comments like “that’s so original” or “how on earth did you ever think of that?” I don’t try to be “creative” “original” or “complex,” especially on the plate. I just try to combine classic flavors in ways that seem delicious to me.

Once again, I deconstructed the classic BLT sandwich and presented it in frozen format. I did this last fall and I was not 100% thrilled with the outcome, so I went back to the drawing board, changed the “bread” to a maple-pecan Pizzelle, tweaked the bacon ice cream (by adding lots of bourbon), substituted pea shoots instead of lettuce in the sorbet, and finally messed around with egginess and creaminess in the tomato gelato. I garnished the plate with a candied heirloom grape tomato sitting on top of a pea shoot and piece of homemade bacon. It was pretty. It was classic. It was delicious (if you don’t mind me saying so). But I guess it was also “creative.” I’m just one big self-fulfilling prophecy so I better get used to it. The thing is, who wants to eat “creative?” Wouldn’t you rather eat “fan-fucking-tastic?” It’s kind of like the adjective I use when someone asks my opinion on something and I don’t want to insult them- “that’s interesting.” Or something you’d say to a five-year-old who just made you an indiscernible fingerpainting. “Very creative, little Suzie.”

photo courtesy of Queen Anne Farmers Market

That being said, I was thrilled to have won the award, and the ultimate accolade came when the lone chef at the judges’ table took out his iPhone and snapped a few shots of my dish. I don’t know what he was thinking, exactly, but whatever it was must have been inspiring enough to want to remember, so that made me very happy. All three judges popped the candied tomatoes like crack, and luckily I had brought an extra plate of them so was able to share some candied tomatoes with the crowd. They are so easy, and make great additions to other canapés and appetizers. For example you can candy a tomato and set it on a basil leaf perched on a round of mozzarella, or if you’re feeling really decadent top a cracker with a candied tomato and a slice of seared foie gras. I will leave you with the candied tomato recipe, though if you’re really interested in one of the frozen component flavors, let me know and I’ll email you that as well.

Candied Tomatoes

Note: increase the sugar and water as necessary if you have more tomatoes, or if your pan is not a very small saucepan, as you want enough depth to the candy syrup to be able to easily dip your tomatoes and coat them.

• 1.5 c granulated sugar
• ½ c water
• 24 grape tomatoes with stems intact, washed, and thoroughly dried

1. Boil the sugar and water in a small saucepan stirring constantly until the syrup reaches 330° as measured by a candy thermometer. Remove from heat. Working quickly, use tongs to dip the tomatoes into the syrup by their stems. Place them on a parchment-lined baking sheet to harden. If you want to affix them to the surface on which they will eventually set, do so within fifteen minutes so they retain some tackiness, but not right away, as they’ll be too hot.

As a blogger living in the Pacific Northwest, I’ve arrived.  You cannot be a blogger worth her salt and not make mention of morel mushrooms. It simply isn’t permitted. If you were living in Alba, Italy it would be imperative to wax lyrical about the wonders of truffles. In London you’d have to find a way to do a bang-up write-up of bangers and mash.  My friend in South Korea tells me eating small, live octopus is de rigeur for the truly initiated.  Here in the Northwestern part of the United States, it’s morels.

Fried up, chopped up, loved up or served up just about any way you can imagine, morels are the defining marker of a true (forgive the use of the following word) foodie.  They possess several characteristics that make them tres chic to us rain-addled fleece-covered Washingtonians waddling along slug-stomping in our Wellingtons.  First off, they are elusive and seasonal.  Secondly, they grow wild. Third, you typically have to hike to locate them. Fourth, they taste suspiciously of the terroir from which they hail.  And fifth, when you slice them into two hemispheres, each side looks suspiciously like a kayak. Pacific Northwesterners cannot get enough of kayaks.

I jest, I jest, but truly, I do love morels, and I can’t wait every year, for their season to roll around.  Even if you do have to hunt them in mukluks rather than Manolos.  I picked up a healthy handful at the farmer’s market the other day to serve as an appetizer. With morels, simplicity is key to letting the fertile flavor of the mushroom shine.  That’s why I didn’t want to overcomplicate this dish with frills like excessive sauce or even a starch to lap it up. The morels themselves can act as a firm base to balance the rest of the flavors of the appetizer, and yet still steal the show.  In this instance, I pan-fried them and served each half with a sous vide quail egg, a smattering of Parmigiano Reggiano, some homemade cubed bacon, and a touch of thyme.  It has to be my favorite way to eat morels.  If you do this, be prepared to join the clean plate club in about three seconds flat.

A great dish is more often than not comprised of three elements. This is no exception.  You have a healthy yet creamy vegetable in the asparagus puree. Mix in a staple starch but do it with a seasonal, unique base a la sunchokes. Finish the whole thing with a perfect protein (homemade bacon fits the bill, no?) and you have a plate fit for a prince, king and queen.  If you have your own little prince or princess at home you’ll probably agree that a meal that suits the tastes of a manly king, dainty queen and persnickety prince/princess is not exactly easy to come by. This one succeeds in full purple regalia. 

Sunchokes are underground tubers that form the base of our starch. They are underground in more ways than one, if you catch my drift. You won’t typically see them at the supermarket, instead you’ll have to journey to the farmer’s market.  They grow underground and are otherwise known as Jerusalem artichokes, a name that is completely nonsensical. This name came about because English speakers had a hard time pronouncing girasole, which means sunflower in Italian, and is how Italians refer to these electrifying tubers.  They are full of zingy flavor, so dumplings from them are perhaps a stretch of the imagination, but an elegant one at that. 

It is springtime and for many of us across the Northern Hemisphere that means the return of asparagus in all its splendor (morning after not withstanding).  I can think of no better way to appreciate the muskiness of asparagus than to pair it with smoky bacon and rich heavy cream.  I did just that with this puree, which gets smoky flavor from the bacon matchsticks that get fried first then removed to a towel-lined plate.  The bacon fat acts as the base in which everything else gets cooked, thereby rooting the soup in its rich, outstanding essence.  The cream and bacon matchsticks are icing on the cake as far as I’m concerned, but the good, buttercream kind, not the nasty fondant crap. 

I’ll share with you the recipe for the asparagus puree. The sunchoke gnocchi is more of a cook by feel rather than by rote kind of a thing, but if you’re desperate for that recipe as well, I can probably give you some estimation if you shoot over a comment or an email. 

Asparagus Puree

• 1 bunch asparagus, tips reserved for another use
• 4 oz bacon cut into matchsticks
• 1 large spring onion, roughly chopped
• Garlic powder to taste. 
• 1 tbsp chopped fresh Savory
• ½ tbsb chopped fresh Thyme
• 1 c chicken stock
• 1 c heavy cream
• Salt and pepper to taste

Fry the bacon matchsticks in a 12” nonstick skillet.  Remove to a towel-lined plate and reserve. 

Add the asparagus & onion to the skillet and fry for two minutes, stirring frequently.  Add the garlic powder (I use garlic powder that I smoke and make myself), savory, thyme and chicken stock, lid the frying pan, and simmer for 5 minutes or until the asparagus is tender. 

Add the cream, salt and pepper, heat just to the boiling point, and puree, either with a wand or in your blender or food processor.  Adjust seasonings and enjoy.

Disclaimer: this post will mention sous vide cooking, I know, I know, again.  It will have value for anyone, though, since good garlic powder is something all of us should have in our kitchen arsenal.

The lovely pulverized goodness that inspired this post came to be as a result of mucking and fuddling about with my newish favorite kitchen gadget- the Sous Vide Supreme.  Now that it’s been out for a few months there are plenty of converts and just as many naysayers on their respective bandwagons. All I can say is that it has revolutionized the way I cook, but no more than, say, my food processor or stand mixer. Funny how you don’t hear a bunch of divisive derision on either of those culinary staples. It’s not like by adding in the sous vide machine someone’s taking away your frying pan, blow torch, or dutch oven, it’s just another notch on the belt, people.  Ok, enough of my rant.  On to the garlic powder.

One thing I’ve learned from sous vide that I am now considering with various other cooking methods as well is that different foods are ideally cooked at different temperatures.  You would certainly cook a steak in the sous vide bath at 134°, though if you throw in some onions or garlic to give it extra flavor they won’t cook properly at such a low temperature.  In order to work around this quandary, you have to come up with a way to get the flavor you want without expecting the sous vide bath to do the cooking.  Same goes for lots of other flavor-enhancing ingredients in the sous vide such as wines, vinegars, ginger, some herbs, et cetera.  Often a chef will pre-cook an ingredient, or merely add it via sauce after the meat is done cooking on its own in the sous vide bath.  I really wanted to experiment with post and pre flavor additions in sous vide, however, to see if the slow and low approach lent any depth or detracted in some way.  This is how I came up with the idea of making garlic powder (aka pre-cooked garlic) to add at will to my sous vide concoctions.  I found a great post on the matter on Pablo Escolar’s blog and I decided to shake things up a bit by adding smoke. 

I was smoking some bacon and artichokes that day anyway, (bacon, always a success, artichokes, not so much) so I figured no harm done by throwing the garlic in the smoker and cooking it that way.  After two hours at 200° in the Weber Smoky Mountain, my garlic had taken on a burnt sienna hue and smelled like savory ambrosia.  I also really liked how I could truthfully state I was smoking cloves, but without the nasty smell and lung-hacking most clove-smoking high-schoolers experience.  Talk about umami- the fifth taste was all up in this piece that day.  That’s when the waiting game started.  Regardless whether you decide to make garlic powder by smoking or roasting the garlic first, unless you own a dehydrator you then need to air dry your garlic to the point that you can successfully pulverize it and it turns to powder, not paste.  I air dried my garlic for three weeks before I ground it in the mortar and pestle followed by the blender for good measure.  I didn’t mind much, though, because whenever I wanted to use some I just spirited away a clove or two from amongst the drying bulbs. 

I’ve been experimenting with the finished product for a week now and I couldn’t be happier with the result. The only thing I wish I had done differently is make more of it.  You might heed that if you try it.  For the trouble you go to, you may as well yield a greater quantity than half a cup, which is what I got from five heads of garlic.  In retrospect I probably would do twenty at a time- that way you would only need to repeat the process maybe twice a year.  It is absolutely perfect sealed into the sous vide bag with a grass-fed filet, a touch of fine salt and nothing more.  I considered pre-mixing some salt with the powder, but I kind of like to individually administer both because different foods require different amounts of both garlic and salt.  The smoke really lends a kick to the flavor, by the way.  Any notions I had of it softening the taste of the garlic are gone.  Instead, it intensifies it, much like smoke intensifies pork belly when making bacon whereas pancetta (which is the same thing sans smoke) has a more subtle flavor.

I’m three days into the United Way Hunger Challenge and I have $59.83 left to spend.  Good thing too, since tonight is Jonas’ birthday, and I have to at least make it somewhat special, which led me down an entirely different train of thought.  We agreed to do this challenge despite having several events (like a birthday) this week that would be tricky to work around.  I recall feeling a bit miffed at the beginning of the week, thinking “couldn’t it have been a different week?” and oscillating over whether to actually go through with it. 

Well midway through the challenge I look back at my three-day-ago self with disdain.  There are people who have to scrape together for kids birthdays, spouses anniversaries, holidays and the like on the budget I was given for a week only they have to do it 365 days a year.  What kind of little princess bitch am I that I mumble and moan feeling sorry for my family when we only have to do this for five days? And we are doing it voluntarily at that? And I’m writing about it and documenting it for my blog, which is an even further luxury?  The bright side is that in three short days I’ve learned to be a humbler person, and to appreciate my lot in life.  In fact, if everyone like me were to live on slightly more moderate means there would surely be more to go around, but that’s a different matter entirely. 

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As many of you know, I’m participating in the United Way Hunger Action challenge this week.  What does this mean? Well, since I have a family of three, in Washington State we would qualify for $18 per day in food stamps.  The goal of the challenge is to try and live on that amount for five full days, so my weekly budget is $90.  Throw in the fact that Wednesday is my husband’s birthday and I’m trying to make it special for him, which usually equates to an off-the-hook feast, and I’ve got quite the challenge.  I also plan to stick to my usual habit of buying mostly organic ingredients if at all possible; let’s see if it can be done.  You may think I’m lucky in that I can count three people yet Bentley is merely a toddler.  Not so, because he knocks back three gallons of milk a week, and at $5.00 a gallon (for organic) that drops my budget down to $75 right off the bat, not to mention the fact that he eats bananas like a monkey on crack- thank god they’re cheap! 

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