Branching Out With Beans

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

August 19, 2010

Funny how I barely notice the produce at the farmer’s market that I’m not familiar with - I only have eyes for the fruits and veggies that have become part of our repertoire. But I managed to break out of my rut a bit recently by trying a couple new (to me) types of beans.

First, it was shelling beans, and my first purchase of cranberry beans. Between tips from the farmer at the market and googling for further ideas on how to cook them, I was all set. The farmer had suggested that the beans make a great soup, but in our 90+ degree kitchen that didn’t seem feasible. So I just cooked them in water for 20 minutes or so and ate them cold, dressed them simply in olive oil and lemon juice. I was disappointed that they lost their bright variegation in the cooking process and turned out a pinkish-gray, but I liked the texture and flavor. They really did have a nice fresh taste compared to dried beans. And shelling the beans was actually kinda fun.

Next, it was pole beans - I bought a sampling of “Marvel of Venice” beans, which are an Italian heirloom (pictured). I was surprised to hear that you are supposed to eat the flat yellow pod. Not much came up on the Internet on these, aside from seed catalogs. But I sauteed them in olive oil with garlic, salt and pepper, as the market stand worker suggested. They were just OK - I’m afraid that getting the full enjoyment out of these tender-crunchy pods is still in the future for me.

How to Make Polenta: Yet Another Solution

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

February 23, 2010

When I tried out Carrie Floyd’s Easy Polenta, it was easy and turned out well, but left a coating on the bottom of my pot. I assume this doesn’t happen with the recipes that call for constant stirring, but since the pot cleaned up fine I was happy.

Now, Mark Bittman weighs in with his suggestion for the “definitive” polenta-making process sans hassle. It calls for mixing 1 cup of water with 1 cup of cornmeal first, then heating, then stirring in the rest of the water as needed as it cooks. More work, yes, but might warrant a try.

Minestrone Musings

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

January 24, 2010

Since making a big pot of Minestrone Soup the other night, I’ve been ruminating about what it is that draws me to this dish and reflecting on all the versions of it I’ve tried over the years. From various cooking Web sites & magazines, plus my own small library of cookbooks, I’ve amassed a hodgepodge of these soup recipes. Some call for white beans, some kidney beans, others lentils. The greens run the gamut from spinach and kale to cabbage and Swiss chard. The liquids can include water, broth, tomato juice or a combination. For pasta, I’ve used orzo, tiny shells, and mini macaroni. I’ve experimented with barley minestrones and autumn minestrones with butternut squash.

Why the fascination with minestrone soup? I’m a sucker for a one-pot dish with a variety of healthy ingredients that can serve as a meal, and minestrone perfectly fits that bill. I’ve taken to cooking my own beans on a regular basis instead of relying on canned, and I think it makes a difference. I’ve become a big fan of greens and love any dish that lets me sneak them in. And the capper: Minestones are very quick and easy to make.

But many of my minestrones haven’t turned out great - I have a tendency to scrap crucial flavor-imparting ingredients at a whim. The recipe calls for pancetta? I’ve never bought it; why deal with the extra work just to up the fat content? The result: a great-looking but bland end product. Some minestrones are designed to be made with water; others demand chicken broth. When I don’t have the broth on hand and have to substitute water, it’s always apparent in the tasting.

But I’m learning. And I think this recent version may become a favorite. It calls for adding a Parmesan rind to the soup as it cooks. For me, it added just that little oomph that my minestrone needs. My other favorite is an Autumn Minestrone I found on Epicurious.com that is from the Moosewood Restaurant’s collection. It features cannellini beans, kale and winter squash - a combination that can’t be beat in my book!

Why Am I So Nervous About Entering the Naked Grains Recipe Challenge?

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

October 9, 2009

Well, for starters, I haven’t made up many recipes. This is only the second time I’ve tried to set down quantities and steps for a dish I’ve invented.

Secondly, I’m relying on memory - I created this dish at a family gathering this summer and pretty much made it up then as I went along. I brought the quinoa and fresh basil with me, but the rest of the ingredients evolved from what I picked up at a farmer’s market we toured that morning and what my sister-in-law had in her cupboard (a well-stocked pantry, I must say).

Third, I used double the amount of quinoa and eye-balled the amount of vegetables, so I’m trying to envision the quantities I’d use today if I were making this for my husband and me at home.

Let’s see...fourth, I’m an editor by trade. This compels me to labor over every word and check it all multiple times. Heaven forbid there’s a typo or something doesn’t look right.

Finally? As will be painfully obvious to anyone who glances at my entry, it’s a very basic recipe. OK, it’s lame. But, heck, what have I got to lose?

And I’m not saying all this to get pity votes. Really, I’m not. There was encouragement to blog about my recipe and lucky for you I found the time.

My Kitchen Companions

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

May 15, 2009

That familiar rite of spring is back: Standing over the sink washing fresh greens. It’s like bringing out the Christmas piano music for the first time after a year’s break - strange and new, yet happily familiar at the same time. You haven’t forgotten the skill, just need to tap into the memory stored in your fingertips. A little practice, and the rustiness is gone. Of course, washing greens takes no great skill, only time and visual attention. More than with most kitchen tasks, the mind is pretty much free to wander or focus on something else.

Which brings me to my kitchen companions. Tonight, it was “This American Life” on WBEZ, a perfect radio show for washing greens, with its compelling stories spooled out over a leisurely hour. This time it was a touching story of a Samoan adoption gone awry. Many times, Terry Gross will join us during dinner prep or clean up - calling up “Fresh Air” on NPR.org is sure to score an entertaining interview of just the right length.

But the day I discovered that the Chicago Public Library offered downloadable media really changed things in the kitchen. Books to me are like chocolate to others - I can never get enough. I scroll through the lists of available titles on-line and try to choose ones that will make good listening while chopping onions or scrubbing pans. I’ve journeyed through the lives of Anne Morrow Lindbergh and Sidney Poitier and solved a Margaret Truman mystery. Together, my husband and I have joined Barbara Kingsolver on her year of living local and Michael Pollan on his quest to understand a plant’s point of view. It may take a while to finish a book this way, but there’s no rush. The books expire and we renew them, as with any library system.

My kitchen companions don’t get offended when I must tune them out or turn them off to check my recipe, measure ingredients or finish a dish. They will still be there when I’m freed up to give my attention to them once more. They are the perfect cooking complement.

Bittman on Freezing

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

May 6, 2009

Expanding on Lara Adler's post here on what’s in her freezer, Mark Bittman’s The Minimalist column yesterday has more good suggestions for items that freeze well - I wouldn’t have thought to freeze egg whites, wine, or parmesan rinds - and tips for keeping track of it all. He emphasizes the importance of labeling and dating, which I don’t always do. I’d like to try freezing more fruits and vegetables - tomatoes and lemons caught my eye in the article. He also gives tips for avoiding freezer burn and reminds us that, while the freezer can extend life, the aging process is merely slowed down - food won’t last forever in there!

Prairie Grass Cafe

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

April 4, 2009

We’ve been talking about going to the Prairie Grass Cafe ever since we chatted with one of the chef/owners, Sarah Stegner, at a Green City Market event last summer. The restaurant specializes in using fresh, seasonal ingredients and they support local sustainable farmers. Once we made note of the restaurant’s name, we kept hearing good things about it; the clincher was praise from our favorite Chicago Sun-Times columnist, Neil Steinberg (not a food critic, but we credit him with having good taste). A recent special occasion prompted us to finally make the trek to Northbrook. Of course, since it’s taken me a few weeks to get around to writing about it, I won’t be able to properly recall the details. And they’ve changed their menu to the April spring-type selections (it was featuring March comfort food when we went), so I can’t cheat by looking on-line.

But by lucky coincidence, the Winter issue of Edible Chicago features an article about the main dish I choose on our visit, their signature Untraditional Shepherd’s Pie. It was a wonderful casserole of braised Tallgrass Beef chunks, Swiss chard, tomatoes, carrots & onions topped with a mash of potatoes, parsnips & butternut squash. Excellent, and more than I could eat in one sitting. My husband ordered the homemade Italian sausages, which were served with baked polenta, rainbow chard and some kind of light red sauce (lost to our memories). He had no trouble finishing his dish, even though the two sausages were larger than you’d usually see at a restaurant of this caliber. We started with a nice tomato basil soup and a beet salad, which I believe came with sliced pear, walnuts and a citrus dressing - I just remember that it was very tasty.

The restaurant has a comfortable feel. It’s a rather large room with high ceilings, but the atmosphere created by the decor is one of warmth. After waiting so long to make our first visit, the restaurant and food met my every expectation. I look forward to going back during the other seasons and encourage any Chicagoland residents to give it a try.

Judith and Julia

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

March 22, 2009

I recently read The Tenth Muse: My Life in Food by Judith Jones. It’s a wonderful memoir by an editor who befriended many great chefs and shepherded them into print, allowing generations of home cooks to benefit from their expertise. Although you don’t really feel like you know Judith herself very intimately by the end, you come pretty early to conclude she is well-connected and very good at her job, and that she has impeccable taste and instincts. Judith is a non-chef who simply loves food and experimenting in the kitchen, and her clean, direct writing style makes you think you can easily tackle the recipes she includes at the end.

Judith Jones is famously the editor who brought Julia Child’s “Mastering the Art of French Cooking” into print. My interest in Julia was first piqued when I read her posthumous memoir My Life in France (written with Alex Prud’Homme) a few years ago.

The book was a revelation. Young Julia fairly jumped out of the page in a new and fresh way that dispelled images of the caricature older Julia. In her completely open style, she draws you in so that from page one you are right there with her, walking the streets, smelling the air, tasting the food, and meeting the people of Julia’s France. She and her co-author neither overdramatize nor pull punches in describing her experiences at the Cordon Bleu, her first successes and failures with preparing French cuisine, and her extraordinary relationship with her husband. The book is funny, sad, loving, and (sometimes brutally) honest. Julia’s amazing combination of determinedness, aplomb, and old-fashioned hard work ensured her success in every ground-breaking endeavor she attempted – whether it was learning to cook traditional French food, opening a cooking school, compiling and editing a definitive French cookbook for Americans, or demonstrating how to cook on TV for the first time. It’s one of the most inspirational memoirs I’ve ever read.

Although becoming a “master” of French cuisine is not even something I aspire to, Julia’s memoir awakened in me a desire to experience that joy that can come from attention to the preparation and eating of good food, and Judith Jones reminded me of the pleasures that can result.

Is a CSA in Our Future?

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

March 15, 2009

I’m feeling it again – the urge to subscribe to a CSA.

I first felt the tug of community supported agriculture two years ago after hearing Michael Pollan speak on an “Omnivore’s Dilemma” tour (isn’t he often the culprit?). But I’m not one to jump into new experiences. I let the idea gather steam all winter by trolling through the Internet, visiting farm sites that offered shares and reading blogs of subscribers. I hit on a CSA that seemed ideal: a cooperative of organic farmers that also supplied many of the best restaurants in town and that offered half shares (one box every other week) and a convenient pick-up point. After a couple months of discussion with my husband, we were ready to make the commitment.

June couldn’t come soon enough. And we were bowled over at the beginning. Oh, the strawberries! Like nothing we’ve ever tasted. An extra allotment for subscribers who came to the farm and picked their own meant we had plenty to share and put away in the freezer. Yes, there were items we were not used to eating, like sprouts and garlic scapes and fresh chives. But we figured out how to incorporate them into our meals. Yes, there were items we completely unfamiliar with, like kohlrabi and Romanesco broccoli. But I enjoyed studying up on what they were and how best to use them.

As the summer wore on, we hit a few snags. A bout of above-average rain resulted in flooding at the farms, and subsequently the quality of the produce took a dive. When tomato season hit, we received only a token amount of this precious item that we so crave all winter. And we started receiving autumn vegetables during the traditional height of summer harvest. Our weekly CSA newsletter didn’t address these issues, so we finally sent an E-mail to the manager. We were given detailed responses that answered our many questions and even offered a refund for the remainder of the season. But we understood at the outset that joining a CSA meant accepting the risks that the farmers face, and wanted to finish out our subscription.

The biggest lesson we learned from our experience: A CSA will not supply all the produce a household needs. Farmer’s market visits are still necessary to supplement those staples or favored items that are missing from our box. The biggest mental hurdle we face to subscribing to a CSA: Making the commitment to be available to pick up our box during the appointed window. The biggest advantage to us of the CSA model: Menu planning that revolves around how to use what’s in our box - negating the eternal “what to eat” dilemma. Plus, we value the other well-known advantages that apply to farmer’s markets as well as CSAs: eating fresh, local, organic, and in season, and supporting our local farmers. But most of all, produce from these sources really does taste better!

Will we give a CSA a try again? As winter fades, the urge is strengthening…

Chicken Stretching

From JeanE23 — Blog by Jean Henrich

March 5, 2009

We snagged a cut-rate large roaster chicken at the supermarket last weekend and she very generously filled our bellies for four nights running.

• Saturday night: Chicken roasted (of course) with potatoes and carrots.
• Sunday night: A “veggie-lover’s” chicken soup, with broth courtesy of the chicken bones. Served with a homemade honey-oat quick bread.
• Monday night: Big salad - white-meat chicken chunks on a bed of lettuce with miscellanous veggies. Honey-oat bread on the side.
• Tuesday night: Chicken-broccoli casserole - and the last of the honey-oat bread.