tilted skillet

slow-roasted tomato, onion, and garlic frittata

I really should’ve stayed home this weekend. My garden, currently dominated by watermelon vines dying a slow death (WHY?) and monstrous kale trees, needed tending. Our CSA box was actually overflowing this week, and I’d just picked up a month’s worth of meat, seafood, poultry, and pork from Real Food Bay Area. A box of stationery and these pieces of oddly-shaped paper called ‘envelope liners’ laid in wait on top of our printer, ready for a save the date printing extravaganza.

It was almost a three-day domestic goddess blitzkrieg, but instead I headed south to the land of sun, beaches, and more sun: San Diego! Between trips to visit the grandparents (affectionately termed by our family The Geriatric World Tour), quality beach time, and skeet shooting at my uncle’s secluded house in Alpine, I managed to fit in a bit of cookery.

We went to the farmers’ market and I marveled at the unusual produce we don’t often see in the Bay Area: green-shelled macadamia nuts, passion fruit, vibrantly-hued eggplants the size of my thumb, and thimble-sized gherkins that looked more like tiny watermelons than they did heirloom cucumbers.

I picked up some of the usual suspects, including pastured eggs, garlic, and fragrant cherry tomatoes. Before the skeet shooting and sunbathing commenced at my uncle’s house, I whipped up a frittata that perfectly complemented a big watermelon-strawberry salad and my uncle’s homemade smoked pork sausage.

Although I prefer to finish frittatas in the oven, there’s no reason you can’t cook them all the way on the stove if you don’t have an oven-safe skillet. If you go stove-only, keep the heat a little lower and prepare to keep lifting up the edges to let the uncooked eggs run underneath. A larger skillet will speed things up, but isn’t necessary. If you want to get really fancy, you can try to flip the whole thing over. This is a great way to throw 10 expensive eggs on the floor, if you’re into that kind of thing. Sometimes I am, but not when I’ve got a house full of hungry would-be skeet shooters.

spiced walnut-almond parsnip muffins

Parsnips really don’t get enough love. While in the same botanical family as carrots, parsnips are not just white carrots. They’re so much more! When cooked, parsnips take on a spicy sweetness that some liken to clove and cardamom. While I’ve never really been one to pick up such subtle flavor nuances (i.e., teasing out berry versus stone fruit flavors in a full-bodied red wine – say what?), I do know that parsnips deserve more than to languish in a forgotten section of the produce department at Whole Foods. I love them so much that I thought about growing them, but a little research revealed that 1) the leaves and flowers of parsnips closely resemble those of the super-poisonous weed hemlock, and 2) the leaves and flowers of parsnip plants can be so toxic that gardeners are advised to wear long sleeves and gloves, and treat any exposure as they would a chemical burn. Say it isn’t true, humble parsnip!

Well, it is true. Parsnips are no joke and I’m not going to pretend that I know what I’m doing in the garden. In fact, I only mildly surprised myself when recently I accidentally put tulip greens in an omelet (and fortunately lived to tell the tale…another day). For the time being, I’m pretty happy rummaging through a forgotten section of the produce department at Whole Foods for oodles of parsnips. While I’ve mostly been putting them to savory uses, I thought it’d be fun to play off the parsnips’ warm spice flavors with a sweet application. I immediately thought of carrot, err, parsnip cake, but scaled down for something I could grab on my way out the door in the morning. And since breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I wanted to pump up the protein and keep the sugar in check.

Thus, spiced walnut-almond parsnip muffins were born. If grated finely enough, it’s really hard to tell that parsnips give these muffins their alluring flavor and texture. A touch of both maple syrup and maple sugar heightens the sweetness of a mashed banana and shredded parsnips, while almond flour and eggs up the protein for a snack that sticks with you. Toasted walnuts provide a nice crunch, although I also toyed with adding white chocolate chunks. I think that having a vegetable in your breakfast means you’ve earned a little chocolate, too.

peachapalooza

There aren’t many reasons I’d leave work early on a Friday afternoon to jockey for position on the 101 en route to Selma, CA. In case you haven’t spent time in this garden spot, let me describe Selma’s whereabouts: southeast of Gilroy, the smelly garlic capital of the world; and just south of Fresno, a blazing hot and dusty town whose only redeeming quality is an In-N-Out Burger (according to at least one burger-phile I know). But if there’s one thing that never fails to motivate me, it’s food. Surprised? I’m not.

While the prospect of frozen yogurt or warm chocolate chip cookies can inspire me to brave a seven-block walk on a cold and windy SF night, the promise of organic peaches and nectarines ripe and ready for picking is enough to almost have me singing the praises of the Fresno In-N-Out. Almost. Just because In-N-Out only uses the meat from one cow to make one patty does not mean that the steer are raised in humane conditions, but enough about animal welfare. Back to peaches and nectarines!

In what might make a convincing post for the blog Stuff White People Like, we participated in a tree adoption and harvest at the Mas Masumoto Family Farm in, as previously established, Selma. To adopt a tree, wannabe farmworkers and fervent fruit-lovers apply to pre-purchase the harvest from one of the Masumotos’ organic peach and nectarine trees. After a competitive application process, selected ‘adoptive parents’ clear their calendars for a period of six consecutive weekends in the summer in anticipation of the birth (really extending the analogy, here) of their tree. Or, to put it another way, when all of the fruit is nearly ripe.

On the pre-selected birth/harvest date (this is like a C-section, friends), temporary farmworkers converge in the Masumoto orchard for a stiflingly hot morning of fruit-picking, sorting and packing. Of course doing so gives you a very brief and coddled (i.e., sweat-wicking clothing, ample SPF and plenty of water) experience of the extremely hard work many farmworkers endure, but, more importantly, it gives you fruit. A lot of fruit. Hundreds and hundreds of pounds of peaches and nectarines that will likely ripen on the same day and then descend into moldiness. Scary.

With my many peaches in tow, I headed home covered in dust, sweat and peach juice and spent my weekend doing what any normal 26 year old would do: jamming, canning and otherwise stuffing my face with stone fruit. In between processing jar after jar of peach jam, I snuck in a refreshing green tea-nectarine smoothie to both cool off after many hours spent at a hot stove, and benefit from a refreshingly cold caffeine kick. This smoothie would be great with any stone fruit, such as peaches or cherries. Bottoms up!

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Strawberry-Fig Newtons

Are there any foods you associate more with their texture than their taste? For me, anything gelatinous, chicken feet dim sum, crème brûlée and Fig Newtons come to mind. I haven’t had a Nabisco Fig Newton in a long time, but I distinctly remember my favorite way to eat them growing up: pressing an entire cookie to the roof of my mouth with my tongue and letting it dissolve into sugary nothingness. I always thought that the cookies, what with ‘fig’ in their name and all, were a more nutritionally virtuous choice than, say, Oreos.

At a recent meeting, our company’s Registered Dietitian used a nutritional index to show us how common foods – both processed and whole – measured up. Imagine my surprise and disappointment when Fig Newtons received practically the same nutritional score as that classic harbinger of highly-processed and additive-laden chocolate and ‘creme’, Oreos! As figs are naturally high in sugar, the addition of high-fructose corn syrup doesn’t help Newtons’ lackluster nutritional profile. Plus, bleached all-purpose flour is generally a nutritional no-no. Add to these dings an overly-long list of mysterious ingredients, and you might as well just have an Oreo. Buy maybe not a Double Stuf.

Naturally, all this talk about Fig Newtons made me want to eat one. While I sometimes indulge in Downtown Bakery’s oversized Fig Newtons at the Ferry Plaza Farmers Market, I realistically wasn't going to wait until Saturday and had heard through the office grapevine that our resident pastry expert was a Newton aficionado. A few conversations and days later, I set to work on my own version. These Newtons are more involved than your standard one-bowl drop cookies, but their flavor and texture are infinitely more complex. Also, as you can tell from the photo they’re substantially thicker than Nabisco’s Newtons. It’s a feat of trans fats and modern machinery that Nabisco manages to flatten the dough so thin without breaking. When homemade, the Newtons are inherently more rustic, charming and delicious. Just don’t try to flatten an entire one against the roof of your mouth!

Pancakes for the win!

I’m a breakfast opportunist. On weekdays, I tend to eat my morning meal in stages: a quick 5am lick of almond butter off the back of the knife as I make toast to pack for the morning Caltrain commute; post-swim, said toast with a few big gulps of water; a more substantial meal between 8am and 9am; and sometimes, if I’m still ravenous, a handful of nuts or piece of fruit to tide me over until lunch. 

Come Saturday or Sunday morning, though, all bets are off. I relish the rare weekend morning that doesn’t involve waking up early to volunteer at the farmers market, exercise, or schlep down the peninsula to work. Accordingly, I often celebrate these special mornings with exceptional breakfasts. From eggs and sausage to smoothies (okay, marginally healthier ice cream shakes) and pancakes, I don’t mess around with lazy-morning meals.

These pancakes are no exception. My dad, a big-breakfast aficionado, proclaimed them the ‘best pancakes I’ve ever had’. I asked if I could quote him on that, since he’s said that in another lifetime he’d like to be a short-order breakfast cook, and I figure that makes him the Sam Sifton of pancake prowess. Chock-full of oats and pecans, these pancakes don’t disappoint. I used a combination of spelt flour and whole-wheat pastry flour, but you could substitute all of one for the other. You might be wondering how the oats have a chance to properly cook in the couple minutes a pancake spends on the griddle. The key is a short soak in buttermilk, which tenderizes the oats and seems to partially ‘cook’ them in a way not unlike the effect of citrus juice on ceviche. I don’t like thinking about ceviche in the same sentence as pancakes, so that’s all I have to say about citrus and fish. 

As I write, I’m enjoying a leftover pancake toasted, split like a bagel and spread with almond butter. It’s way better than regular toast. Happy new year!

Soul-satisfying eggs & breakfast for appetizers

There’s somewhat of a cache around eggs here in the Bay Area. While you can walk into many grocery and convenience stores and take home a heavily-branded and questionably raised dozen for a dollar or two, I prefer to seek out and pay $6.50 for an unmarked carton of funnily-colored, sized and shaped – and, most importantly – delicious and ethically raised, eggs. Fortunately and not overly surprisingly, there’s a CSA (Community Supported Agriculture) for that. Vacaville-based Soul Food Farm produces pastured eggs, whole meat chickens (and assorted extras), and the occasional batch of chicken confit or olive oil, for an adoring customer base that ranges from farmers market shoppers and CSA customers like me, to chefs at lauded Bay Area temples of fine food and ethical sourcing.

Limited retail distribution and products of incredible quality gave Soul Food the somewhat-happy problem of many hungry fans with few places to get their poultry fix. Plus, the usually-inevitable markup that comes with third-party distribution results either in prices that seem high to even seasoned Bay Area good food shoppers, or, to a decrease in Soul Food’s potential profit as they lower their wholesale price to preemptively assuage price-conscious customers. Enter a CSA, in which members ‘subscribe’ to the farm by prepaying for a given amount of product and thus guaranteeing the farm a certain level of income. At least, that’s my interpretation of Soul Food’s, and many other producers of quality foodstuffs, challenges to – and partial solution for – maintaining financial viability.

I’m going to save a discussion about the difficulties small farmers, ranchers and producers like Soul Food face for another day, and get back to the eggs. Soul Food’s ‘girls’, as the laying hens are affectionately called, proffer unbelievably flavorful, nutritious and sometimes odd-looking eggs. Since the hens are free to roam on the farm, they eat a naturally varied diet that includes bugs, vegetables and grass. Their omnivorous consumption results in yolks that range from light yellow to dark, almost reddish, orange. Shell colors include blue, brown, white and a speckled amalgamation of the three, since the hens are heritage breeds and not the standard genetically-engineered breeds tragically crammed by the millions into battery cages.

All this means that the eggs are really good. So good, in fact, that I happily eat them for breakfast, lunch, dinner and incorporated into a myriad of desserts. There’s no doubt that Soul Food eggs are food fit for company, even at dinnertime. For a recent dinner party, I took a breakfast standby – the frittata – in a wine-friendly appetizer direction with the addition of abundant fresh herbs, spicy anchocress and slow-roasted Early Girl tomatoes, and a distinctly non-breakfast serving style. We didn’t have any leftovers, but I’d secretly hoped to repurpose any remaining frittata cubes in a savory brunch hash with crumbled sausage, sautéed peppers and diced new potatoes. If this is your intention, you may want to set some aside ahead of time because if your guests are anything like mine, they won’t have any qualms about eating breakfast for appetizers.