Put You in Your Place Pilaf

In cooking school, one of the first things you learn about is mise en place. You learn all about a brunoise and a mirepoix and mincing and dicing and julienning. You learn about peeling and boning and filetting and all sorts of helpful techniques that will allow you to do your job in a more efficient, organized and, hopefully, flawless manner.

It is all very important, in a culinary sense, not so much in the getting along in the world sense. It is also widely thought to be mind numbing stupid work -not so creative, very monotonous and very time consuming. Secretly, I have always felt that there is no shame in wanting to julienne tomatoes or mince shallots for hours. I found myself, every now and then, envious of the dishwasher's fifty pound bag of potatoes and paring knife. It puts you in your place. You can think and chop and daydream and peel and pay attention to whatever is on the radio and slice and after, all is right in the world, or at least in your part of it.

The best, and in the weeds, the worst, thing about being alone in your kitchen, or galley, is that you have to do it all. There is no choice, unless you can corral an unsuspecting deckhand or small child into doing it for you when you don't have the time.

There is not a whole lot of mise en place that goes on in our kitchen. Meals are made on the fly with at least one chair getting drug across the kitchen floor on its way to 'help out' and at least two hands tugging at whatever cloth they can grab at knee height and the ever-loudening, 'up, up, up,' coming from the same area. Sometimes I like to pretend that I am more organized and that supper is a cooking-show-fabulous display of ramekins and tiny bowls with perfectly prepared ingredients being effortlessly thrown together to make something superb. I am sadly out of practice and easily distracted so what used to take five minutes now takes almost three full episodes of Pinky Dinky Doo, three, 'take that out of your mouth,' interventions (shoe, china tea pot lid and rubber band), a complete tidy up of all the chalk and the multicoloured drool on the floor from discovering that not one of the colours is delicious to eat, a rescue of the pile of 'precious artworks' being torn into tiny pieces and two trips over the contents of everything thigh level and below in our kitchen.

So, while I like to think that cooking like this is therapy, I am closer to needing therapy if I haven't saved the prep for nap time. It does make the witching hour easier though and supper has uniformly cooked pieces and looks a little prettier when you can manage it and, despite all the distraction, it still feels good to slice and dice and peel and chop everything into little bowls, even if it is in forty-five second intervals.

You can do all the prep work for this ahead of time, or as you go. You can then throw it all together, pop it in the oven and walk away for the better part of an hour.

The barley makes a great change from the usual rice and it is delicious. Little Daughter ate this for about three days. Big Daughter had seconds and asked for more a few days after it was all gone.

This makes enough for two adults and two children with a big salad as a main course. It might serve six people as a side dish and would be just fine with a roast chicken.

Barley Pilaf

1 finely chopped onion (3/4 cup)

1 large carrot finely chopped (1 cup)

2 ribs celery finely chopped (3/4 cup)

1 cup mushrooms finely chopped (1 cup)

1 large clove garlic minced 

2 tablespoons olive oil

1 cup pearl barley

3 cups stock (I used chicken stock because I had it, use whatever you have)

1 bay leaf

1 large sprig fresh thyme

Handful of chopped chives

Salt and pepper to taste

Preheat oven to 350º. Sauté onion, carrot, celery, mushrooms and garlic with olive oil over medium high heat in an oven proof pot with an oven proof lid, stirring occasionally, until onion is translucent. Add barley and reduce heat to medium. Stirring occasionally, let the barley get ever so lightly toasted. Don't let it burn. Add stock, bay leaves and thyme and bring to a boil. Cover the pot and place it in the oven for forty-five minutes. Remove the lid and leave in the oven for fifteen minutes more. Remove from the oven and check the seasoning, stir the chives through and serve.

Will the Real Edible Kind Please Stand Up?

When I was child, I once ate a horse chestnut. I remember thinking that people sang about, 'chestnuts roasting over an open fire.' I figured that they should probably taste fine freshly fallen off the tree as well. Little did I know that Aesculus hippocastanum is not to be confused with Castanea, also known as The Edible Kind. The bitter, drying taste I faced left me wondering what all the Christmas carol fuss was about. It wasn't until I was about twenty years old that I finally braved up to taste the 'real' thing. But, this isn't about The Edible Kind.

A week or so ago, I replied to a tweet describing the cupcake menu for the day at Nomélie Cupcakes. I asked what the heck a 'buckeye' was. Her reply was: @nsbonnielass a choc cupcake w/pb cream cheese filling dipped in ganache topped w/swirl of pb frosting http://tinyurl.com/2g4xqom. I followed the link and realized, 'they're conkers.' But, candy conkers.

So, I read a little about it, and thought of my husband and his love of peanut butter. I thought of his even greater love for chocolate coated peanut butter. I thought of his love for conkers. Really, still, in his fifth decade, the search for the perfect conker can easily double the length of an autumn hike. And, I made some peanut butter conkers because, as patiently as I wait, the real ones still haven't started to fall off the trees here and I fancied a bowl of conkers or horse chestnuts or buckeyes, whatever you choose to call them, for the centre of our table. 

I read some of the recipes following the link above and most seemed a little bit too full of stuff I don't consider to be food like wax. And, some things that I had never heard of like honey margarine. And, things that seemed redundant like peanut butter cups. One of the recipes seemed fairly reasonable save for the fact that, made in the quantities prescribed, I would have wound up with way too many of the little tasties. 

I went out got some of the bad, but oh-so-good, sort of creamy peanut butter for these. I figured with a recipe like this, there is no point trying to be virtuous. The original recipe called for margarine and I used butter. I did keep the shortening in the chocolate coating only because we had some shortening left over from a bird seed project we have been working on and, as I said above, with a recipe like this, there is no point trying to be virtuous.

Conkers adapted from a recipe tested by Carla Hall who is possibly a member of the Mid-Ohio Boogie Club (makes 30)

400 grams confectioner's sugar

1 1/2 cups creamy peanut butter

1/2 cup softened butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

6 ounces chocolate chips

2 tablespoons shortening

Mix sugar, peanut butter, butter and vanilla together. Chill for an hour.

Form into 30 conker/horse chestnut/buckeye shaped balls and place on a tray or plate. Chill for an hour.

Melt chocolate and shortening in a heavy bottomed saucepan over low heat or in a double boiler. Stir until all chocolate is melted. Cool until it is about body temperature.

Using a toothpick, dip each conker in the chocolate and place on lined tray or plate. When all are dipped smooth the toothpick holes closed with a wet fingertip. Chill until firm.

Keep in refrigerator or freezer until you are ready to eat them.

Warm Toasted Garlic and Lemon Vinaigrette and Some of Its Many Uses

Every now and then you realize that you have stumbled upon a culinary workhorse. It may, like in this case, be something that you have been using since the dawn of time. Or, at least since the dawn of your culinary exploration. It may be something that someone shows you and you suddenly realize that it has a multitude of uses.

It will most likely be simple. And, it should be made of things you would normally have on hand. Otherwise, what’s the use if you can’t just whip it up whenever you need it.

I have been using this warm, and impossibly simple, vinaigrette since I discovered the bounty of Provençal markets. It is perfect drizzled over a plate of sliced market fresh vegetables in any season. 

Poppy and I made a warm zucchini (courgette, for all you English folk) and summer squash slaw with some toasted almonds and tomatoes for lunch the other day and it was ‘exactly delicious’, as Poppy told me when asked how she thought it turned out.

Today, I was lucky enough to have five pounds of fresh scallops delivered to my door. I happened to mention it on Facebook and ceviche was suggested by Jason in reply. As today seemed to redefine grey, I thought that was a great idea to liven up the dreary moods moping around ours.

I was about to get into making it when I realized that I didn’t have any lime or any red onion or any fresh coriander/cilantro so I was going to have to wing it. 

I started to cut the scallops and decided to slice them very thinly instead. Then, as I was juicing the lemon, I remembered doing it the other day for the vinaigrette. All of a sudden I was digging a plate out and laying the scallops on it and getting everything ready to make the vinaigrette which was going to be drizzled over these scallops for a pretty decadent little rainy day lunch. Cue blue skies and sunshine.

Over the last few hours, I have decided that the possibilities for this little gem of a vinaigrette are almost endless - warm potato salad, drizzled over figs and goat cheese, a quick topping for a pasta. I think I could go on for a while here. I'd love to know if you find a use for it.

Warm Toasted Garlic and Lemon Vinaigrette

1 large clove of garlic julienned

Juice of 1/2 lemon

1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil

In a pan, heat olive oil. Add garlic and cook until it just starts to brown. This will happen quickly. Be careful not to burn it. Pour in lemon juice and stand back. When mixture starts to boil, this will happen quickly, remove from heat. Immediately drizzle over whatever you are drizzling it over.

Zucchini and Summer Squash Slaw (makes enough for 4 as an ample side dish)

1 medium zucchini

1 medium summer squash

3 small tomatoes quartered, seeded and julienned

1/2 small red onion thinly sliced

Handful of parsley leaves

1/2 cup slivered almonds toasted

Warm Toasted Garlic and Lemon Vinaigrette

Maldon sea salt and fresh ground black pepper to serve

Julienne the zucchini and summer squash or, if you have one, you can use a julienne peeler.

Put the zucchini and squash, tomato, onion and parsley leaves on a large plate or in a salad bowl. Drizzle the warm vinaigrette over. Toss to mix. Sprinkle the almonds almonds and some Maldon sea salt and black pepper on top. Eat.

Fresh Scallop Carpaccio (enough for 4 as a light appetizer)

1/2 pound fresh scallops with the tough ‘catch muscle’ removed

Finely chopped parsley

Fresh ground black pepper

Maldon sea salt

1/2 recipe Warm Toasted Garlic and Lemon Vinaigrette

Slice the scallops in 2-3 mm slices. Arrange on a serving plate, or on individual plates. Drizzle the hot vinaigrette over the top of the scallops. Top with parsley, salt and black pepper. Eat.

Yes, I do realize that there are now three scallop recipes here, here and here now but, hey, this is supposed to be about cooking in Nova Scotia. So, enjoy the bounty before I have to go somewhere else.

Ketchup - Moon Style

I had promised myself I was done pickling and preserving for this year. I don’t seem to be able to stop. I may be making up for last year when I had a week old baby and I was quite certain that the US Open would not have been able to proceed if Tilly and I weren’t  sitting in our chair watching. Perhaps, making pickles is my subconscious excuse to have the US Open on in the background this year because there is no way I can think of to justify sitting in the chair to watch, and Tilly won’t sit still anymore.

Regardless of the reason, I am very happy that, while I was watching the US Open last year, Stephen overbuilt our basement shelves, buckling as they are under the weight of dill pickles and carrots, pickled beets, beet and horseradish relish, bread and butter pickles, blueberry chutney and syrup, mustard relish and salsa not-quite-verde. The freezer lid barely closes, filled with Mason jars full of roasted tomato sauce, strawberry freezer jam, pestos and bags and bags of summer fruit. 

I have vowed to be done after today’s effort, just in time for the US Open finals, so it seems a fitting end.

***

As most children I know do, Poppy has an almost obscene love affair with ketchup. She asks, and is denied mostly, for it on everything. I think that ketchup smeared on everything is almost criminal. Don’t get me wrong, I think it has its place. No fried potato is fully dressed unless it has been plunged in a puddle of the stuff but, I just don’t think it belongs everywhere.

When Feisty Chef tweeted that she was making pickles in The Chronicle Herald earlier this week, I had to have a peak. One of the recipes was an East Indian Tomato Relish that looked like it might just change the face of ketchup as us Moons know it. 

I thought about it all week and, after some careful thought as to what needed to be done and the tweaks I would make, today was the day. Poppy, gowned in her paint splattered Hello Kitty apron and determined to make her own ketchup, pulled a chair up to the counter and watched while I blanched and refreshed 40 tomatoes. She then set about peeling all forty. She wanted to chop the onions but the tears allowed me some elbow room while she counted out the lids for the jars.

I left out the peppers that Feisty Chef uses and changed the quantities of vinegar and sugar. I also doubled the recipe and I am glad I did. It seems like a ridiculously huge amount of tomatoes and onions until it cooks for the better part of three hours and is reduced to about one-third of the original volume.

I added some spices as well but not too much because my intended consumer is four. I also decided to whizz it up with the immersion blender for a smoother texture. It is a lot of prep work and a long cooking time but, I think, the results were very delicious. It is a little more chutney-like than ketchup and next year, I will likely lose some of the sugar but I am really pleased. I would let Poppy dip her grilled cheese in it for sure.

When Poppy tasted it, with her food critic nose crinkle, she said, ‘it tastes good but it isn’t really real ketchup, is it?’

I replied, ‘Isn’t it?’ Under my breath, I was saying, ‘Get used to it toots, there is eleven pints to eat.’

Ketchup - Moon Style inspired by the Feisty Chef’s East Indian Tomato Relish

40 large field tomatoes

8 large onions - chopped

1 tablespoon mustard powder

2 teaspoons five spice powder

1 teaspoon cinnamon

4 tablespoons pickling salt

7 cups sugar

6 cups apple cider vinegar

Boil a large pot of water. Score the bottom of the tomatoes. Plunge them into the boiling water for fifteen seconds or so. Remove with a slotted spoon and plunge them into a large bowl of ice water. You will have to do this in batches so you don’t over cook the tomatoes.

Peel, seed and chop the tomatoes. Put them into a 14-16 quart pot. Add the onions and bring to a boil. Boil for 30 minutes, stirring occasionally.

Add the spices, sugar, salt and vinegar. Return to the boil and cook, lowering the heat gradually as the mixture thickens for about two hours. Stir as necessary. When it has cooked down to about six quarts, turn it off. Using an immersion blender, purée until smooth.

Pour or ladle into sterilized jars and seal. 

I then processed this for ten minutes in a water bath canner. You can use a big pot with a rack in the bottom and cover the jars with an inch of water.

This makes 11 pints.

Sea Candy

There is a little farm in the sea near here. Just off of Snake Island, near Graves’ Island, there is a farm hanging in the water. It has been there for at least fifteen years. Not many are aware it is there. In fact, until recently, I had almost forgotten it existed.

Margaret Webb, in Apples to Oysters, writes that no one seems to know it exists. Even the Department of Fisheries and Oceans seemed to have forgotten it was there. She began to call its farmer a ghost farmer.

It is there, of that I have no question. Its produce has been making its way to the little, but lively, Chester Seaside Artisan and Farmers’ Market on Friday afternoons. Making its way in the form of mussels and live scallops, lifted from their suspended net home only hours before. 

To the uninitiated, a whole live scallop could be a little daunting. Hundreds of little eyes stare out at you, the roe, especially in the summer, is fairly large and, to most, unfamiliar. But, one taste, for any seafood lover, would surely win them over. 

We are spoiled for fresh seafood here. Stephen, before he spent much time here, would roll his eyes when, after ordering mussels or scallops somewhere else, I would complain that they weren’t very fresh or that they had been frozen. He now understands and the eye-rolling has been replaced with a raised, ‘Are you sure you want to do that?’ eyebrow if I begin to order seafood he has deemed may be dubious in origin. Chalk up one for Nova Scotia.

These scallops are the freshest of the fresh, and if you ever happen to see them in a restaurant or a fish market, get them. They are alive, they are fresh. They are divine.

I have cooked them twice this summer, once with white wine and garlic and herbs like moules marinière. The second time was on the half shell on the barbecue, which meant, that even if they weren't tastier, at least someone else, namely Stephen, would do the cooking. 

When you cook them on the half shell, the scallop flavour is concentrated as the shell is heated and it is an even more perfect ocean taste. 

I spooned a little bit of a white wine reduction with shallots and garlic and fresh herbs and butter, of course, over the scallop. Then they cook in even more loveliness and are a perfect little bite. Serve them as the main course with a couple of salads. You can also serve them as hors d’oeuvres with a little cocktail fork but make sure that you and your guests leave room for supper. 

The scallops do have to be shucked, but not removed from their shells. This is dead easy as well. None of the fuss or muss of oyster shucking. You have to have a little speed but once you get the hang of it, you will whizz through forty or so scallops in no time. They will likely be slightly open but, if not, let them sit in the sink quietly for a few minutes until they let their ‘guard down’ and open up a little. It’s like the scallop equivalent of a couple of glasses of sauvignon blanc.

I have found myself fairly inarticulate in describing how to get these little guys loosened from their shells so you can shuck the scallops like this but don’t shuck them like this, even if it is a little entertaining, because, if you have checked with your vendor, these are perfectly safe to eat whole. Don’t throw all the ‘extra’ bits away. That is what makes them so darn good.

What you want to end up with are the scallops, whole, with all their extra bits on the more cup-like side of the shell (one side is flatter than the other).

I had a ‘large’ bag of scallops, this was about forty or so. That is enough for at least six adults, we had five with leftovers, as a main course. 

I used parsley, chives, fennel fronds and a little bit of sorrel. You can use whatever fresh herbs you have, just plain old parsley would be just fine.

If you don’t have a barbecue, you can cook these under your  oven broiler/grill. You may have to adjust the cooking time. When you are cooking these on the barbecue, make sure you keep the heat as high as you can, you don’t want these to boil, you want them grilled.

Barbecued Live Scallops

1 Large bag live scallops on the half shell

1 cup white wine

2 large shallots finely chopped

1/2 cup butter

2 cloves garlic minced

Fresh herbs finely chopped

Fresh ground black pepper

Put wine in saucepan over medium heat and reduce to 1/4 cup. Add shallots, garlic and butter and simmer until shallots are translucent. Remove from heat and stir in herbs and pepper.

Heat barbecue to high heat or your oven broiler. 

Spoon a teaspoon of the wine and butter mixture over each scallop.

Place scallops, in shell, on the grill as quickly and as carefully as you can, you don't want to spill the wine and butter. Close the barbecue lid and cook for about three minutes until the ‘meat’ is opaque.

Remove from barbecue and serve.