This past weekend in Washington DC we experienced Full-Blown Spring: warm, almost hot sun, cloudless blue sky, trees outlined in new green emerging on drab hillsides, wide patches of daffodils, butter yellow, drinking in the light.

And, the cherry blossoms.

Oh, my. Blooms in Peak. Gorgeous ruffles of pink surrounding the Tidal Basin, shimmered pink in the water, showered pink in the breeze.
Ensconced by these lovely trees, The Jefferson Memorial, its marbled dome and columns gleaming white, ethereal, seemed to belong to another world.

We didn’t mind the throngs who joined us down at the basin—who could mind sharing in the beauty of such a place? A lot of people were walking with heads bent back, looking up, taking in all the pink. Children danced in the bluster of petals. Babies laughed when held up, face-to-face with the blossoms.

Delightful.

Of course, all of that Spring joy spilled into my daughter’s kitchen, where we prepared a Sunday feast featuring the season’s best:

Young Asparagus grilled in olive oil and thyme,
Butter lettuces dressed with strawberries and dulce di gorgonzola,
Orzo with leeks, shitake mushrooms, and sweet snow peas,
Fresh Ham roasted in rosemary-sage-garlic pesto.

Have you ever had a fresh ham? Likely you are familiar with smoked hams, some highly salted, redolent of hickory; others sugar cured rosy-pink, the rich hind leg of the pig baked under a fruity glaze.

Fresh ham, the uncured, non-smoked variety, is infrequently available, yet makes a wonderful pork roast–sweeter, more deeply flavored than, say, pork loin. I hadn’t cooked one in a number of years (I hadn’t seen one to purchase in as many…) and so when we found one at Whole Foods (at a surprising $2.49lb) we decided to make it the centerpiece of our Sunday DC Family Supper.

A pesto assertive with garlic, rosemary, and sage, is rough chopped with salt and black pepper, mixed with a little olive oil—as a medium—and slathered over the entire roast. You can’t have too much garlic or herb, really. This cut of meat can take it: the garlic gets toasty, the herbs and salt make an incredible crust. The pan fills with savory juices that make a rich brown gravy flecked with garlic bits.

It’s best to cook the ham uncovered, fat side up, on high for the first 30 minutes. Then, reduce the temperature to 350 degrees, and let it roast along for another 2 1/2 hours. You can rotate the meat in the oven, pour a (very!) little water in the bottom of the pan to keep the juices from burning–that’s all there is too it. But, that’s why a liberal coating of the herb pesto is so important.

While the meat is cooking, you’ll have plenty of time to make the spring orzo with leeks, mushrooms, and snow peas.

Roasted Fresh Ham
6-8 lb. fresh Ham, trim any thick fat, but do leave a layer
6-8 cloves Garlic
4 sprigs fresh Rosemary
1 bunch fresh Sage
2 t. Sea Salt
1 t. Black Pepper
2 T. Olive Oil

Rinse off meat and pat dry. Make coarse pesto by chopping all the garlic and herbs together with salt and black pepper. (You can pulse this in a food processor if you like, but in this instance, I prefer the hand chop.)

In a bowl, combine the rough-chop with enough olive oil to act as a vehicle for spreading. Coat the entire ham with the mixture.

Preheat oven to 450 degrees. Roast for 30 minutes, then reduce heat to 350 and cook for 2 1/2 hours.

Remove the roast from the pan and let it rest for 15 minutes (or longer) before carving. In the meantime, make the gravy. Mix a heaping tablespoon of all-purpose flour with 1/2 cup water, and stir into roasting pan on the stove top under low heat. Add more liquid as needed; gravy will thicken and be dark and luscious.

Serves 10-12, leftovers make an AWESOME roast pork sandwich.

And, I think that you’ll enjoy the orzo dish below; the silky pasta and mushrooms, savory leeks, and sweet crunch of snow peas balance the richness of the meat.

Orzo with Leeks, Snow Peas, Shittakes
1 box (1lb.) orzo or riso
2 Leeks, cleaned and sliced (I use as much of the leek as possible)
1 lb. Shittakes, sliced
1 lb. Snow Peas, strung and chopped
2 T. butter
2 T. olive oil
salt and pepper to taste

In a deep skillet, heat butter and olive oil together. Sauté leeks until soft and translucent. Stir in mushrooms and cook until they release their liquid. Finally, add the snow peas and sauté for another 3 minutes.
Remove from heat.

In a large (4 qt.) saucepan, bring lightly salted water to a boil and cook orzo according to package directions–about 10 minutes. Drain and add to the skillet of vegetables. Toss until all the ingredients are well mixed. taste for seasonings and serve.

Makes 10-12 servings.

Goodness, it’s been unusually Meaty around here of late at Good Food Matters, what with braised pork shoulder, the cauldron of Italian Meatballs, and now this vast platter of beef.

I do promise to bring balance to the blog with postings that feature vegetables, fruits, grains, and the likes. But, in the interest of good experiments, i.e. The Illustrious Vessel, we’ll press forward today with Doufeu, part deux.

For a number of years—-back in The Day—-we catered the large Seder for Congregation Micah. It was a great service offered to their community who were either unable to observe this Passover meal and ritual at home, or simply desired to celebrate it with a group (150-200!) of fellow members.

I am not Jewish, but had many Jewish catering clients, and so I had a basic understanding of what was needed for the service, what was acceptable—from a dietary standpoint—and what had to be avoided. The director of Congregation Micah provided us with all the guidelines, and a copy of the Haggadah, the special text.

Restrictions include: no dairy, no leavened grain, no legumes, corn, or rice.

It was a challenging and rich experience, to design a balanced menu, to properly (and tastefully!) prepare the meal, and serve all the components in their rightful order to so many people.

We learned some fabulous recipes—I make a mean Matzo Ball Soup, just thinking about it now gets my mouth watering!—

It was a great history lesson too, learning how the Seder plate holds symbols in the form of foods to bring mindfulness to the Exodus, the struggle from slavery to freedom.

We always prepared beef brisket, using a recipe given by a client long ago, that slow cooks the meat with onions, chili sauce, red wine, and ginger ale. The results were always remarkable: the beef rich and tender, covered in a sauce thickened with caramelized onions, deepened with wine, spiked with sweet-sour notes from the chili sauce and soda.

With the first day of Passover coming up on March 30th, I thought it would be the perfect time to try out my brisket recipe, with modifications, in the Doufeu.

I am happy to report that the results were Superb.

Searing the rub of salt, black pepper, and paprika onto the meat goes far in creating a lovely bronzed brisket—-critical to the braise.

I reduced the amount of liquids in my recipe for the doufeu to achieve the desired flavor profile. Plenty of onion is still needed though!

Brisket of Beef
2-3 T. Olive Oil
6 lb. Brisket, trimmed of excess fat
Kosher Salt
Cracked Black Pepper
Paprika
3-4 Onions, sliced
2-3 Garlic cloves, minced

½ cup red wine
½ cup ginger ale
½ cup chili sauce

Heat Doufeu on low. Add olive oil. Rub trimmed brisket with salt, black pepper and paprika.
Brown the brisket on both sides and remove.
Add about ½ of the sliced onion and sauté for a few minutes. Lay the brisket on top of the bed of onions. Pour over red wine and ginger ale. Spread the chili sauce over the top of the brisket, sprinkle with minced garlic and remaining sliced onions. Cover with lid, fill with ice, and turn heat down to lowest setting.

After 3 hours, remove lid, flip over the brisket. Cover and cook for about 2 more hours.
Meat will feel very tender when pierced with a fork. When done, remove brisket.
Slice brisket thinly, across the grain, and lay out on a serving platter. Cover with hot oniony gravy and serve.

This platter of sliced brisket was much-loved at our last community pot luck!

I do enjoy a cooking challenge. So, when our local Le Creuset store manager Joseph asked if I would like to test my recipes in their signature Doufeu, I said SURE!—even before I knew what in the world a Doufeu is.

I did some hasty internet research.

In French, Doufeu translates loosely to Gentle Fire. This rather handsome cooking vessel (LOVE this color: cerise, or cherry red!) was introduced in 1935, and is now being brought back as Le Creuset honors its 75th anniversary (while celebrating 85 years of making their revered enameled cast ironware.)

This deep oval “French Oven” has a couple of distinguishing characteristics that enable it to slow braise with minimal liquid, yielding tender meats layered with rich flavors. It’s all in the design of the lid.

The outer indentation holds a mound of ice. The lid’s underside has a series of little knobby spikes. As the Doufeu cooks, steam rises within, meets up with the chilled top. Condensation occurs, and drips liquid–via the little nodules–back down onto the roast.

Effectively, it self-braises. Nice science lesson!

For my first test, I chose a Pork Shoulder, which benefits from long, slow cooking. In Tennessee, this cut most often makes its appearance on the smoker, hickory-charred and pulled for barbecue. But, braised in cider with pears and thyme, it melts into succulence, the meat bathed in savory-sweet juices: wonderful winter fare served over brown rice.

TIPS: Preparation is simple. After trimming excess fat, liberally season the shoulder with salt, black pepper, and thyme. Heat the Doufeu doucement, gently. The initial searing of the meat is critical. Take time to achieve good browning on all sides before adding the pears and vegetables—you’ll be rewarded with a full-flavored broth.

Browned pork roast, sliced pears, onions, carrots, and leeks only require 1 cup of cider as braising liquid. Secure the lid, fill with ice, and let the Doufeu do its job…..for the next 6 hours!

Six hours, you say? Mais, oui.…I took the Gentle Fire notion very literally….perhaps too seriously. I had my gas burner on its lowest setting. The beauty of LeCreuset is that its very material allows heat to build—and hold. The ice was completely melted after the first hour.

After 3 hours, I decided to peek inside. Wow! The shoulder and accouterments were steeped in this marvelous stock. I flipped the shoulder over, reset the lid, and let it continue….

It filled my home with wonderful aromas.

After almost six hours of Low-and-Slow, the pears and veggies had all but disappeared into the broth. The shoulder was so tender; I easily pulled its singular bone out clean. I removed the roast from the pot, skimmed the stock and thickened it slightly with a Slurry ( cornstarch mixed with water.)

This is not meat to slice. You pull it. You chop it up. Then, return it to that amazing gravy. Surprising: with minimal cider and fruit, it was infused with peary sweetness.

I served this lush roast , alongside brown rice, asparagus, and a salad to my Book Club. The six pound shoulder had remarkable yield–Ten of us enjoyed dinner, and there were leftovers to serve another eight!

Everyone remarked on its soft richness, and the distinct layers of flavors–fruit, vegetal, earth, meat…

Cider Braised Pork Shoulder with Pears and Thyme
approx. 6 lb. Pork Shoulder, trimmed of excess fat
Salt and Black Pepper
few sprigs of fresh Thyme
Olive Oil
1-2 Leeks, cleaned and chopped
3 Carrots, diced
1 Onion, sliced
4 cloves Garlic, minced
2 Anjou Pears, sliced
1 cup Apple Cider

Season pork with salt, pepper, thyme. Heat the Doufeu on medium, add olive oil, and brown the shoulder on all sides. Lower the heat, add sliced pears, onions, carrots, leeks, garlic, more thyme. Pour in the cider.

Cover, and fill the lid with ice. Simmer along for 3 hours. Flip the roast.
You can “redo” the lid with new ice, if you want—or just leave it filled with water. Simmer at least another 2 hours. (The bone will pull out easily.)

Serve over rice, egg noodles, or roasted potatoes.

Our next Doufeu Test will be with Beef Brisket….

That’s Kara, intent on carefully stirring this big batch of Italian meatballs in hearty red sauce, the centerpiece of a meal made by her and fellow Brentwood Academy students attending our cooking seminar at Second Harvest.
For Winterim, she and eight others chose to come to our Culinary Arts Center to learn some kitchen skills and tasty recipes.

We are fortunate at our food bank to have a teaching kitchen. Each week, volunteers get hands-on experience in a commercial setting, preparing our Friday First Harvest Cafe buffet lunch.

Mark and I also feel strongly about teaching youth to cook—informing the palate and developing skills in the kitchen are as critical as reading, math and science (all of which come into play with understanding recipes, measurements, temperatures….)

We have designed a series of classes specific to teens. Periodically during the school year, we host these three-day seminars. On the first day, the kids make a big lunch for themselves. The next day, they cook a full course dinner to bring home to their families. The final day, they assist with our First Harvest Cafe: cooking and serving for the hundred-plus guests who attend.

In the summer, we offer COOKS RULE, week-long cooking camps that expand on some of the skills and recipes touched on in the smaller seminars. We have sophisticated menus exploring cuisines from around world and incorporating fresh local products from our farmers.

For this class, our students learned some Italian-American basics:
meatballs, tomato sauce, pasta, salad and red wine herb vinaigrette
The morning was spent preparing our lunch.

I developed these recipes to be straightforward and simple, without sacrificing flavor, and have found them to be well received by just about anyone interested in learning to cook. I’ve taught them to teens and to formerly homeless. Mindful of what people have access to, the meatball and sauce recipes indicate options for fresh or dried herbs.

We always emphasize that recipes are starting points, guideposts: free to adapt as you choose. It’s all about creativity. Cooking is foremost an art. Happily, there are myriad variations of meatballs and sauce out in the world, and there’s always another tasty take on a known dish.

Our students work in teams. We strive to have a good balance of lecture and demonstration with mainly hands-on work. And, really, that’s why they are there. Everyone wants to get her hands in the action. Mixing and rolling meatballs is a perfect means…..

Plus, it is a WHOLE lot of fun. We strive to have joy in our kitchen.
But, truly, that’s something we don’t have to work hard to achieve!

The meatballs are oven roasted. It’s an easy way to cook them, and drain off any excess grease before they are plunged into the pot of red sauce to simmer. (Of course, big batches of meatballs can made, roasted, and frozen—ready to use at a later point in time.)

While the sauce simmers, the students clean, spin, and toss greens with a vinaigrette they whipped up themselves. We prepare the pasta (linguine in this case) and set up our buffet…dine on our reward, a delicious lunch. Good work!

Italian Meatballs
1 lb. Lean Ground Beef
¼ lb. Sweet Italian Sausage, casing removed
2 -3 slices of French or Italian bread, torn into small pieces
2 teaspoons minced Garlic
1 small Onion, chopped very finely
2 Tablespoons dried Italian herbs (or finely chopped 2 T. fresh basil, 1 T. fresh oregano, 2 t. fresh thyme, 1 t. flat leaf parsley)
1 Tablespoon Worcestershire sauce
1 teaspoon Salt
½ teaspoon Black Pepper
6 Tablespoons grated Parmesan Cheese
1 egg, lightly beaten

Break up the ground beef and sausage into a large mixing bowl.
Add the bread pieces, garlic, onions, herbs, salt and pepper, Worcestershire sauce, parmesan cheese and the beaten egg.
Vigorously mix all the ingredients together by hand-almost like kneading bread dough-until all the herbs and bread pieces are well mixed throughout the meat.
The mixture will get a little fluffy and shiny when it is mixed well.
Shape into balls-about the size of a golf ball, (or smaller, if desired). Place the meatballs on a baking sheetpan.
Bake in a 350 degree oven for 25 minutes or until done.
Drain any excess grease and place the cooked meatballs into your thick Italian Tomato Sauce.

Hearty Italian Tomato Sauce
3 Tablespoons Olive oil
2 small Onions, finely chopped
3 cloves Garlic, minced
1 large (28 oz.)Can Tomatoes in juice-coarsely chopped, save the juice!
1 small can (6 oz) Tomato paste
1 Bay Leaf
1 Tablespoon Balsamic Vinegar
1 teaspoon Salt
½ teaspoon Black pepper
1 Tablespoon Basil
2 teaspoons Oregano

In a large saucepan (3-4 quart size) heat olive oil.
Add the chopped onions first and sauté until soft and translucent-about 7 minutes.
Then add the garlic and cook for another minute or so, stirring constantly.
Add the coarsely chopped tomatoes and their juice, the tomato paste, all the herbs and spices and stir well until it begins to boil. Reduce the heat and simmer for an hour, stirring occasionally.
Add cooked meatballs and continue simmering. Taste and adjust for seasoning.

Yes, but no ordinary chicken, no ordinary pot.

Seasoned with a pesto made of coarse grain mustard, garlic, sage, and rosemary, this free-range bird from Au Naturel Farms furthered the range of its Smiths Grove, Kentucky home with the tastes of Provence. With a savory paste both tucked under the skin and spread over the entire exterior, the trussed chicken got cooked to bronzy succulence in a Dutch oven.

And, yes, it was my trusty fig-colored LeCreuset, doing double duty on the stove top and in the oven. I credit the pot and the pesto for making this chicken glisten in a sauce that required no roux to thicken.

That grainy dijon mustard acts as a vehicle for holding the herbs and garlic in place, and adds a nice piquancy without being overtly, well, mustardy. I do believe, too, that it has thickening powers.

I hasten to add that I did toss in some cooked cranberry beans, which continued to cook, break down, and contribute a little more body to the sauce.

The process began on the stove top, where I browned the bird, and sautéed the sturdy mirepoix. A little water, a few glugs of red wine, and into the oven it went to finish off, for the most part, unattended.

After it emerges from the oven in all its glazed and stewy glory, you can carve the chicken at the table, and serve the vegetables and sauce on the side.

As my contribution to this month’s Third-Thursday Community Pot Luck, I decided to carve all the meat, and place it back to bathe in the sauce and vegetables. It was easy to serve to our group that way. ( cut the chicken into smaller bites, extend the liquid more, and you’ve got a rich soup.)

Some people spooned it over the potatoes dauphinoise, others decided the seven-jewel-grain-casserole was a perfect base, and still more chose to just let a serving swim on the plate with all the other wonderful dabs of dishes brought to the dinner. (Word: our third-thursday pot luck is AMAZING. forty local food lovers, forty unique dishes brought to the table!)

Provencale Chicken in a Pot
1 Whole Roasting Chicken
1 Tablespoon Olive Oil
2 Onions, chopped
3 stalks Celery, chopped
3-4 Carrots, cut into nice chunks
2 sprigs Fresh Rosemary
2 cups Red Wine
2 cups cooked White or Cranberry Beans
1 batch of Coarse Grain Mustard Pesto (see recipe below)

Dutch oven

Spread a nice dollop of the pesto underneath the skin of the chicken breast, and liberally coat the remainder all over the outside of the chicken.

Truss the chicken with kitchen twine.

Heat the Dutch oven on medium, add the Olive Oil and brown the chicken on all sides, starting with breast side down. This process should take about 15 minutes. Add vegetables and sauté them, about 5-7 minutes. Pour in red wine. Then pour in enough water to raise the level of liquid about 2 inches—about 2 cups.
Stir in the beans and place uncovered in a preheated 350 degree oven.
Roast for an hour, periodically basting the bird.

Serve either as a whole roasted chicken, with its savory brown vegetable sauce on the side, or carve up all meat from the roast, return to the saucepot and serve over crusty bread or potatoes.

for the Coarse Grain Mustard Pesto:
2 Tablespoons Coarse Grain Mustard
3 cloves Garlic
2 Tablespoons Fresh Sage leaves
1 sprig fresh Rosemary
2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
Salt and Black Pepper

Place all of the ingredients into a food processor fitted with the swivel blade. Pulse until the garlic and herbs are well chopped throughout the mixture.

Recently, Whole Foods and Le Creuset co-sponsored a pre-Thanksgiving fundraiser at our Second Harvest Food Bank. For a mere $5.00 donation to Second Harvest, you got to sample quite the array of T-Day mainstays and sides, as cooked up by the Whole Foods catering department.

Tasty stuff, too–including free-range heritage bird and gravy, green bean casserole, potatoes au gratin, sour cherry and pecan pies.

And, you got a raffle ticket–for which, Le Creuset donated a 5 1/2 qt. Dutch Oven as The Prize.

The luck of the draw: I won the raffle! I couldn’t believe it. Happy, happy. I was so tickled by this, I felt like a big goofy kid. Sometimes, it’s really nice to win.

The Le Creuset store manager, Joseph, let me pick out the color. I had get the Fig. Isn’t it gorgeous? This is my second raffle win in as many years (in the spring of ‘08 I won 2 blueberry bushes in a drawing at our farmers market) so, I guess you could say that I’m on a roll…

And, I must say that this wondrous Dutch Oven came into my possession at the most timely of moments–our Third-Thursday Community Pot Luck Dinner was coming up, and I had wanted to make some winey-frenchy-stewy dish using beef rump roast I purchased from Walnut Hills Farm. The recipe is part Boeuf Bourguignon, part Boeuf à la Mode–we’ll call it Boeuf à Ma Mode..(that’s beef, my style)

The heavy enameled cast iron pot went right to work, marinating the meat overnight.

Marinade (for about 5 lbs. Beef Roast)
2 cups Red Wine
1/4 cup Olive Oil
4 cloves Garlic, crushed
several sprigs fresh Thyme
Salt and Black Pepper

Mix up these ingredients and pour over the beef. Marinate overnight in the refrigerator, turning the meat at least once, after several hours.

The next day: Remove the beef from the marinade—save the marinade—and brown it well on all sides. While it’s browning, you can get your veggies ready.

Boeuf à Ma Mode
Marinated Beef
2 Shallots, chopped
2 large Onions, diced
3 ribs Celery, small dice
4 Carrots, small dice
2 Bay Leaves
Reserved Marinade
2+ cups Red Wine
2+ cups Vegetable or Beef Broth
1 lb. Cremini Mushrooms, chopped
2 T. Butter
Salt and Black Pepper
2 Tablespoons Dark Roux
Fresh Thyme and Rosemary

Sauté the vegetables in the browned drippings left by the meat–add a little more olive oil, if needed. These sturdy ones will go far in forming a rich flavor foundation for this stew, and will actually cook down so far —over time with the meat—as to almost disappear.

After you return the meat to the pot, pour in the wine and broth, and toss in the bay leaves.

Then, just cover, turn the heat down low, and forget about it for four hours. In the meantime, you can get your mushrooms ready.

Brown the mushrooms in butter, salt, and black pepper in a separate pot. Enhance with red wine.

When the meat is tender, remove it from the pot and cut into bite-sized pieces. (discarding any fat or gristle.)

Thicken the stock with your roux, stir in mushrooms and meat. Simmer and serve.

This rich savory stew served a lot of folks at the Third-Thursday dinner.

Delicious spooned over noodles or rice, this beautiful beef stew also makes a special, hearty meal when served with this colorful roasted winter vegetable medley. A real winner!

We have a good friend, Roger, who was born in South Africa of Hungarian parents, and therefore grew up immersed in an amalgam of food heritages.

He speaks–rhapsodically–of Peri-Peri Prawns, jumbo crustaceans caught in the Indian Ocean, spiced and grilled in a sweet-hot Portuguese-Mozambique meld…
… and, in turn, of traditional Eastern European dishes: hearty gulyas, savory stews infused with true Hungarian paprika—soul-stirring fare that speaks of Franz Liszt and gypsy violins and bleak romantic countryside rolling along the Danube.

Early in the summer, Roger gave me a bag of The Real Deal, which is what you must have in order to create this rich and rustic cuisine. Most paprika that we find at the grocery is flavorless, and used only for a dash of color over deviled eggs and such. Look for Hungarian on the label.

I have been waiting for the right time to put this Paprika to good use—so that I can say Paprikash! with bravado—I love the sound and rhythm of the word. This meant waiting for Tennessee warm weather to shift.

November: The time for Chicken Paprikash! has arrived.

It gave me the chance to do a little research. I found the most intriguing information from Marc of NoRecipes .

Marc has a great foodblog, and his story about Japanese and Magyar/Hungarian languages running parallel root lines is fascinating. I also appreciated some of his recipe tips (even though it’s a “no recipe” recipe site) and adapted my recipe from his.

There are not many ingredients—it’s really how they are prepared that makes the difference. Browning the chicken well, with salt, pepper, and paprika helps to form a flavor-packed foundation for the Paprikash. Cooking the peppers and onions with the browned bits left in the pot from the chicken lends a richer, deeper note to the stew.

Chicken Paprikash

Olive Oil
2-3 Bone-in, skin-on Chicken Breasts
Salt and Black Pepper
2 large Onions, chopped
2 Red or Yellow Bell Peppers, diced
2 Banana Peppers or 1 Poblano Pepper, diced
1/3 cup Hungarian Paprika
1 1/4 cup Vegetable Stock (or chicken stock)
1 cup Sour Cream

In a large skillet on medium heat, slowly brown the seasoned chicken breasts (dusted with salt, pepper, paprika) in some olive oil, taking care to brown all sides.

Remove the chicken and add diced peppers and onions. Sauté until soft and somewhat caramelized, scraping up all the browned bits on the bottom of the pan left from the chicken.

Pour in vegetable stock (or chicken stock, if that’s what you have.)
Add the paprika, and stir until it is well mixed. Return the chicken breasts and braise for 30 minutes or so.

Remove the breasts, discard the skin, and pull the meat off the bones. Cut into bite sized cubes and return to the skillet. Fold in the sour cream and continue simmering. Taste, and adjust for seasoning. Serves 4.

Lovely over egg noodles! Paprikash!

The whole chicken breasts,smothered, simmer in the paprika-infused broth (which the paprika causes to thicken.)

The meat is pulled off the bone, cut into chunks, and returned to the stew. At this point, the sour cream is folded in, and gently warmed.
The chicken will continue to cook.

Paprikash!

There, I have said it enough.

Savory-sweet, with a little heat, this is comforting, cold weather food: delicious over egg noodles, garnished with fresh chives and dillweed.

Now is the ideal time for these good things: pork and sage and honey poached pears and roasted sweet potatoes.

Have you ever grown sweet potatoes?

Earlier this summer, I found one abandoned in the back of my pantry that had sprouted and thought I might try my hand at it.

Following some instruction I found online, I submerged my forsaken one in a bowl of water. After a couple of days, the sprouts leafed out and had the makings of vines. I carefully snapped off these baby vines, (called “slips”) and placed them into a water-filled jar to root.

Again, growing quickly, threadlike roots formed, making 5 individual sweet potato plants. Over the 4th of July holiday, I moved them into their new home at The Hooper Garden. They grew vigorously, suffering only one setback of bunny munching, a tangle of vines competing for space with the wiley watermelon.

Last week a tinge of frost blackened many of the leaves, alerting me that it was time to harvest.

It became a treasure hunt; I had no idea how these tubers grow, nor how deep! So, I began my cautious dig for these buried treasures, (thinking about the truffle seekers!) following the viney trail and its vast underground network of roots. What a wonder–there were lots of them, some GIGANTIC, some regular, some baby sized.

Nature offers some pretty incredible returns—here’s the math:
One sprouted tuber produced Five plants produced Twenty-five sweet potatoes. Impressive.

Looks like I’ll be making lots of sweet potato treats!

For my initial use, I wanted to make it a part of a simple autumn supper.

I generally don’t eat much pork, but I had a piece of boneless loin, a thick medallion that I had gotten from West Wind Farms. It seemed a natural to companion it with roasted sweet potato slices and my honey-poached pears. The sage plant on my front steps is flourishing, another cool weather cuisine associate, which I like to place directly onto the pork and sauté. Crispy sage leaves are delicious.

This entire meal takes about thirty minutes to put together. Roasting discs of sweet potatoes couldn’t be simpler—just lay them out on a baking pan, brush with a little olive oil, dust with salt and pepper, and roast for about 20 minutes in a hot oven, say 425 degrees.

True, these are odd shaped. I had to cut away a blemish or two.

While the sweet potatoes roast, you can pan-fry the pork. After I rinse off the meat and pat it dry, I rub it with olive oil. Then, I place the sage leaves directly onto the meat, salt and pepper it, and then dust it in flour.

I heat some more olive oil with a little butter in a skillet. When that is heated, butter bubbly, put in the pork. I cook it about 7 minutes a side, let it brown, then flip and repeat. After it’s cooked, I deglaze the pan with some water, stirring the cooked-on bits. The small residue of flour will help this to slightly thicken.

Remember those honey-poached pears? Gently warm those on the stovetop.

Now, to assemble your plate:
Start with the sweet potato discs as your base.
Place the cooked pork medallion on top.
Spoon over the warmed pears.
Drizzle with your deglazed brown sauce.
Garnish with fresh sage.
Eat.

And enjoy!

Gigi is a neighbor and friend of mine who has boundless energy and a vision: She has transformed several lots along a funky stretch of Wedgewood Avenue near the fairgrounds into a stunning urban garden oasis.

She’s on a mission, too. Her Wedgewood Urban Gardens , replete with fruit, flower, and vegetable companion plantings, exist not just for beauty, or as a horticultural place of learning. Gigi is passionate about sustainability in a world of rapidly depleting resources and is creating a working, producing urban farm.

We’d been talking about community-minded things and decided that it would cool to host a once-a-month pot luck gathering of folks in our ‘hood—get a cross section of friends and acquaintances to meet, share food, and talk about what they’re growing/cooking/advocating. Nothing formal, mind you. We decided to lightly structure it—holding the pot luck on the third Thursday of each month—beyond that, guests could bring friends and whatever food and beverage of their choice.

For our launch of the “First Third Thursday” about thirty people came bearing splendid covered dishes and casseroles, cakes, salads, sangria! So fun! And, remarkably, there were no overlaps, or cop-outs. No fifteen bowls of potato salad. No limp bags of baby carrots and a tub of onion dip. Our convivial feast was heavy on fresh, local veggies—some harvested from personal gardens—with a tantalizing balance of desserts. (And, only one meat offering in the lot!)

Here are some that I recall: Watermelon gazpacho, roasted golden beet salad, grilled scallions and asparagus, grilled corn with avocado, brown rice-market veggie medley, fusilli with swiss chard, rosemary roasted fingerling potatoes and leeks, southwest bean casserole, squash gratin, mixed berry pie, pignoli-almond torte, chocolate-zucchini cake, and a Pavlova—luxurious, with its meringue shell supporting a cloud of whipped cream, strawberries, and kiwi.

I made two contributions: The first was this orange-fennel salad, using fennel bulbs from Gigi’s own Wedgewood Urban Gardens, layered with onions and lemon basil grown in my guerrilla garden (the easement across the sidewalk in front of our home.)

There’s something curious, almost comical about the look of fennel: wild-haired in the ground, I think of half-buried tribal heads emerging from earth. Once cut and cleaned they’re strange cartoon-like hands, or albino baseball gloves. At any rate, when shaved fresh for a salad, a little of these goes a long way–in a good way.

The distinctive anise flavor meshed with sweet onion, lemon basil, and orange is so refreshing to the palate, especially in this ninety-plus degree weather. Each layer has some curls of parmegiano-reggiano, and is further drenched in an orange vinaigrette, much like the one used in my Earth Day Salad.

The other dish I served was this chicken roasted with plums and peaches. Here, I have to give a shout-out to a fellow foodblogger, Zoe, a fine cook and graphic artist in the Atlanta area. This wasn’t her recipe, but her Apricot Rosemary Glazed Roast Chicken (posted June 15th), with gorgeous photos, was the inspiration.
(First, we eat with our eyes!)

On hand, I had an Au Naturel chicken, market peaches, and plums from my backyard tree. I brined the chicken overnight in an Asian-based solution—hoisin, ginger, brown sugar, red pepper, garlic—
and roasted it with sliced peaches and whole plums. Succulent and fruity.

One good idea often leads to another; whether it’s from our neighborhood feed or our on-line friends in food, sharing what we know rewards in all kinds of ways.

Layered Orange-Fennel Salad
2 Oranges: 1 1/2 to slice for salad, the other 1/2 for juice and zest
4 bulbs fennel, thinly shaved crossways
1 small sweet onion, sliced thin
1 bunch lemon basil, chopped
parmegiano reggiano—a few curls

Dressing:
1 Tablespoon Orange Zest
2 Tablespoons Orange Juice
2 teaspoons Dry Mustard
1/4 cup White Wine Vinegar
1/2 teaspoon Salt
1/2 teaspoon Black Pepper
1 cup Extra Virgin Olive Oil

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl, except for the olive oil. While whisking, slowly drizzle the olive oil in, until it emulsifies.

To Assemble:
Mix the onion and fennel together and lightly dress.
Place a layer of thinly sliced oranges on a platter.
Layer with fennel-onion mix,
Top with chopped lemon basil and curls of parmegianno-reggianno.
Repeat: Orange slice, then fennel-onion, then lemon basil, then parmegianno, until you’ve built a stacked fennel pyramid!
Drizzle with remaining dressing. Garnish with lemon basil and serve.

Asian Roast Chicken with Plums and Peaches
brine:
1 gallon water
1 cup brown sugar
1 cup hoisin sauce
2 Tablespoons chopped fresh Ginger
1 teaspoon Red Pepper Flakes
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1 cup sliced peaches/plums
1 cup Rice Wine Vinegar

1 Good Chicken
several plums and peaches

Mix up brine, and place cleaned chicken into a tub of it. Refrigerate overnight.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
Remove chicken from brine, drain, and lay into a baking pan. Surround with sliced peaches, whole and halved plums. Sprinkle with paprika. Truss.
Bake uncovered for 60-70 minutes.

Oh, vegetarian readers, take heed!

Rarely do I eat red meat—no pun intended. After six months and thirty-plus blog postings, this is my first red meat entry. There are times, though, when I do want it, almost feel like my body needs it.

Once I get that beefy iron-rich fix, I am sated for another long while.

I choose either a rib-eye or strip steak, from a grass-fed, pasture raised animal whose life, up until the day of slaughter, was a happy, hormone-and-antibiotic free existence. ( In the Nashville area, Walnut Hills Farm, Emerald Glen Farm, and West Wind Farms all follow these practices.)
Yes, it is pricey, but for those rarest of occasions, plus for ethics and flavor, it’s so worth the expense.

It’s also something that I eat alone.

I live with a vegetarian, and a tolerant one at that. He doesn’t have issues with meat being in the house, or in the skillet, just as long as it doesn’t touch anything that he’s going to put in his mouth. So, the potentially off-putting notion of me carving and gnawing away at some juicy piece of sirloin while he munches a Boca Burger is not the reason.

No, this solo carnivorous undertaking evolved into a funny tradition, born of a time when I worked crazy hours and lived by myself. After an intensive run of cooking all kinds of foods and catering all manner of events, when I had become too bleary to discern what I might enjoy or be capable of putting in my mouth, this was the panacea I discovered.

I would liberally season and pan-sear a steak, pour a glass of red wine, and sit down at a set table to slowly dine. And, slowly, I would restore. In the wake of overwork, that pan seared steak–dined on with the civil accoutrements of china and silver, savored in silence–became the centerpiece of this ritual of nurturing myself.

The marinade, or herb infused coating, is easy to make. It follows a manner used by the Tuscans in cooking their prized Chianina beef. Instead of lemon, I use balsamic vinegar (with a little Worcestershire) as the acid element. With the fresh minced garlic and flat leaf parsley, I add fresh thyme and chives. And, of course, a healthy dose of good olive oil, coarse sea salt and cracked black pepper…the flavors will astonish!

If you can, allow the marinade to permeate the meat for a few hours.

I have an enameled cast-iron grill pan, made by Le Creuset, that works really well for searing, charring, grill-marking the meat. But it’s fine to use a heavy-duty fry pan.You could cook your steak on a charcoal grill, too, but you’d miss out on being able to deglaze the skillet and capture all that cooked-on goodness.

Steak Florentine

2 Tablespoons Olive Oil
1 clove fresh Garlic
1 heaping Tablespoon fresh Italian flat leaf Parsley
2 teaspoons fresh Chives
1 teaspoon fresh Thyme
2 teaspoons Balsamic Vinegar
1 teaspoon Worcestershire Sauce
1 teaspoon Coarse Sea Salt
a few grindings of Black Pepper

New York Strip Steak, bone in

Put the olive oil, garlic, fresh herbs, vinegar, remaining seasonings into a food processor fitted with the swivel blade. Pulse the ingredients until the garlic and herbs are chopped throughout the mixture and the olive oil becomes somewhat emulsified with the balsamic and Worcestershire.

Rinse, pat steak dry, then coat both sides with the herbed marinade. Refrigerate and let it soak in the sauce for several hours.

Heat a skillet or grillpan until just under smoking hot. Sear steak for 2 minutes, rotate to get crosshatch marks and cook for another 2 minutes. Flip the steak and repeat.

Remove the steak and let it rest on a plate while you deglaze the pan with water ( or red wine)
Shake the grillpan back and forth, scraping up any cooked on bits, then pour over the steak.
Get your fork and sharp knife and dig in.