To Foie or Not to Foie…It’s the most divisiv |
I Love Produceby Chef Nikki Bowen
I love produce. For as long as I can remember, I have. As a kid, my parents would take me to the farmer’s market and the smell of fresh corn, basil, tomatoes, and even string beans would intrigue me. My mom (who never considered herself a foodie or even a good cook) would carry home summer-ripe cucumbers, slicing them and dressing them in a light, and slightly creamy, vinaigrette. The firm flesh of the cucumbers mixed with the acidity of the vinaigrette created the most amazingly refreshing salad, the perfect complement to any summer meal. I was brought back to my childhood summers today while preparing to teach a cheese-making class at Datz. To complement the mozzarella the class was making, I prepared panzanella. For those not familiar, panzanella is Italy’s gift to the world. Don’t misunderstand… I love a good marinara, and there is no substitute for fresh pizza, but in the summer months, there is no comparison. Ripe, sweet tomatoes, refreshing cucumbers, and peppery basil are tossed with hot, toasty bread squares and then drizzled with extra-virgin olive oil and white wine vinegar. I saved this incredibly aromatic mixture for the class and added their fresh mozzarella. I never tire of seeing the reaction of first-time fresh mozzarella consumers, and this experience was particularly rewarding. The taste of their mozzarella mixed with the freshness of these summer treats was an overwhelming onslaught of taste sensations. Produce, bought in season and locally, is awe-inspiring. How many hours until the farmer’s market opens? |
Easy, CheesyFor the third time this week, I am pouring a glass of wine while my curds gently soak in their water bath. Already sliced on the plate are some green zebra tomatoes I stumbled upon, champagne mangos (where have these been hiding my whole life?), flaked pink salt from the Murray River in Australia, tender treviso and a basil vinaigrette made with white balsamic vinegar. In less than five minutes, I¹m going to have fresh mozzarella. In ten minutes, dinner. Not just any grocery store mozzarella. No. No. No. We’re talking fresh mozzarella. The creamy, slightly salty tang and gentle toothiness of hand-pulled mozzarella. Mozzarella that I’m making myself. Sometimes a few simple ingredients come together to create something spectacular. The individual elements compliment each other so well that, when combined, the results are so delicious they border on magical. Think bacon and eggs; chocolate and strawberries; brats and beer; mango and mozzarella. Moist, sweet and soft, with a springy yielding texture unlike any other cheese, the process of making fresh mozz is very simple, and the results are blissful. Indeed, the fresh cheese classes at Datz are among the most requested.
Start with a pound of fresh mozzarella curd and three quarts of 150° water. Don¹t believe me? Take the class on Sunday May 16 ($25, 6 pm) and find out. Mango Caprese with Basil Vinaigrette
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Fiddleheads for you and for me!When I was small, maybe 7 or 8, my mother instituted the rule that every Friday night was New Vegetable Night. The childhood burden of new and strange vegetables did not fare well in our household. Unfairly blamed on my mother’s cooking, my brother and I took to pouting and temper tantrums to avoid eating anything green. It wasn’t long before New Vegetable Night became Pizza Night instead, and peace was restored in the Lee household. Twenty years later, no longer so closed-minded, a new vegetable appeared on my plate on Friday night. And strangely, I ate it with wonder and abandon. Well… perhaps not so strangely. This was culinary school, and the lesson at hand was fiddleheads. Fiddleheads, the tightly furled shoot of the Ostrich Fern first discovered by the Maliseet and Mi’kMaq tribes in Eastern Canada, are a springtime delicacy all the way up the East Coast. Until that night, I don’t recall ever having seen them, but they tasted like I imagined they would – like asparagus. (They smell and taste of the earth in the same way that fresh scallops taste of the ocean.) They were crunchy and earthy and green tasting and paired well with the pappardelle, crispy prosciutto and salty Parmigiano-Reggiano also on my plate. It’s one of the few things I miss about living in the northeast – these succulent signs of spring. Asparagus. Ramps. Fiddleheads. <sigh> Desperate for a harbinger, Chef Jason Dame and I ordered them from Sid Wainer, but just the other day, I found them at The Fresh Market. (You’ll have to wait for a new shipment because I bought them all.) Jason and I served them alongside wild mushrooms in a ragout topped with a mammoth diver scallops. Oh! And finger limes. Today, I’m using up what’s left in a spring risotto – asparagus, fiddleheads, meyer lemon and creamy cana de cabra (because that’s what in the fridge). And I’m thinking that maybe my mother was on to something after all. FIDDLEHEAD FAQ Want to know more about fiddleheads? Here are the basics on stalking, preparation and storage: What do they taste like? They taste like asparagus. How can I tell if a fiddlehead is ready to eat? In the field, you can tell the fiddlehead is still young by how tightly it is furled. If the furl is loosening into a fern, it’s gone by. How long will a fiddlehead stay fresh? Most chefs like to use them the same day, but you can blanch or steam them for less than a minute, lay them on a cookie sheet and freeze them solid. Then you can keep them in a bag in your freezer. What’s a simple way to eat a fiddlehead? Steam or blanche the fiddlehead for three minutes, douse them with butter and lemon, and serve as a side dish. How long is fiddlehead season? Fiddlehead season lasts about three weeks. Since the timing varies from Virginia to Canada, you can usually order them for about six weeks from somewhere.
NOTE: Not all ferns are edible, so stalkers should arm themselves with information or get a knowledgeable partner to go out with. Also, don’t be too greedy. Stalkers ask that people take no more than a third of an outcropping so the crop can be sustained |
