LocalSeasonal Take 1: Caponata

caponata1.jpg If I may say so myself, tonight was a smashing success. A whole day into my challenge and I'm still thrilled that I took it on! On the menu this evening was kalamata olive sourdough bread from the market, homemade eggplant caponata, and greens with heirloom tomatoes, feta, and red onions that I pickled in fresh-squeezed lime juice till they turned a beautiful shade of purple.

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Some thoughts on preparing and eating tonight's dinner:

  • This is really the clincher, I think -- everything just tasted so fresh. The heirlooms were bursting with juices, like perfect summer tomatoes should. The greens -- a mixture of spinach and arugula, also from the market -- were beautiful and quirkily shaped, not like th uniformly-chopped salad greens you can by at the store. They were also super fresh, the arugula nice and spicy. Even the caponata, which I made with tomato sauce that I cooked up this weekend, tasted fresh. It doesn't take much to sell me on the virtues of maximizing fresh produce in my cooking, now does it?
  • The irony about cooking and preparing such fresh produce is that while my mouth waters at the site of my farmers market bounty far more than it does with the contents of a Safeway grocery run, I also eat so much more slowly when what's on my plate smacks with fresh-homemade-ness. When the food isn't fresh, or isn't in season, or for some other reason doesn't taste its best, I tend to just shovel it in and scarf it down mindlessly. When dinner is as fantastic as it was tonight, I find myself savoring every bite, thus feeling full earlier and eating less. I made like the French tonight -- I ate 1 slice of bread, 1 ladleful of caponata, and 1 helping of salad; and I didn't go back for seconds.
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  • There's something sensual about cooking with local, seasonal ingredients. For one thing, they're more delicate. I wash them, dry them, chop them, and generally handle them with far more care then when I'm chopping up a couple winter tomatoes (which I hope to buy less, by the way). Time with myself in the kitchen has always been therapeutic and restorative for me; all the more so when I'm working with the best produce summer has to offer.
  • Some of you no doubt are thinking that I picked a mighty convenient time to do this -- at the height of summer's produce boon. And you'd be right! No way around that. But I will say that there are few things I love more than a good winter stew -- and there are few things more comforting to cook as well. So without making any promises, I imagine that I might take away from this experience a desire to eat seasonally even when the season has limited produce to offer.

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Are any of you out there trying this or something like it? If so, do share your stories! For now, here's a blueprint for the caponata I made tonight. As I made it by taste-and-adjust, there's no precise recipe. You'll just have to get in there and try it yourself. :)

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Caponata

Olive oil (at least 1/4 cup) 1 medium to large eggplant, firm and shiny, in 1-inch cubes 1 1/2 cups tomato sauce or crushed tomatoes 1 small red or yellow onion, chopped 1 stalk celery, chopped very fine 4 cloves garlic, peeled and kept whole 2 Tbsp capers 1/3 cup raisins, dried cranberries, cherries, or currants 1 cup white wine 1/4 cup white wine or cider vinegar several sprigs of mint dried marjoram, oregano, tarragon, or other herbs salt and pepper chili flakes

In a heavy bottomed large saute pan, heat a healthy dose (a few Tbsp) olive oil on medium-high. Add eggplant and toss around the pan, allowing to scorch in places, about 4 minutes. After the eggplant is browned and softened a bit, remove and place into a bowl off the heat. Add a few more Tbsp of oil, turn heat to medium-low, and add onions and garlic, allowing to cook just until they start to brown. When that happens, add the celery, brown a bit, then add eggplant back into the pan, and add a bit of the wine, just to deglaze the bottom of the pan. Add the tomato sauce, and toss or stir to coat. Add the herbs, the capers and the dried cranberries/raisins/whatever, as well as a bit more of the wine (total about 2/3 cup). Cover the pan and allow to simmer, on low heat, for at least 20 minutes until the garlic is soft and mushy, the raisins/cranberries are plumped a bit, and the eggplant is soft. From here on out, it's a game of taste and adjust. If needed, add more wine. If the flavoring tastes right to you, just add water if you need to thin it out. Add salt and pepper to taste.

Serve room temperature, hot, or cold, with sliced [I like toasted] crusty bread, and perhaps a few cheeses.

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Price Information: eggplant from the farmers market, 1.69 per pound 1.67 per eggplant at the store beefsteak tomatoes from the market, 2.50 per pound 1 dollar each at the store greens from the market, 5 dollars for half a pound 6 oz. for 3.79 at the store -- about equal heirloom tomatoes from the market, 3.99 per pound not available at my store herbed feta cheese, 9.75 per pound at the market 8.58 per pound and nowhere near as good! half a kalamata sourdough at the market, 2.50 price varies -- can you get half a loaf at your store?

On balance, I definitely think I came out ahead here, and the price differential is slim to none in most cases. Food for thought...

Tzatziki

tzatziki1.jpg My wonderful mom reminded me that when we first made this, we also grated in 2 pickling cucumbers. I completely forgot to put them in the recipe here! Correction appended. Have you ever seen a recipe here at NDP that called for mayonnaise? No, I don't think so. Definitely not. That's because I hate hate hate mayo with, well, a passion. It makes my stomach turn just to think about it! Yuck. The grossness of mayo notwithstanding, at least 95.5% of all dip recipes list mayo as an ingredient -- incomprehensible, if you ask me. Why not pass up the mayo for some yogurt? Or sour cream, if that's your thing? Why ruin a perfectly good dip with mayo? Disagree if you must -- I get that mayonnaise is one of America's favorite condiments. Just not one of mine.

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Here's a delightfully fresh and mayo-less dip that's perfect for summer. It's a spin on Mediterranean tzatziki, a dill-spiked yogurt and feta dip. When my mom and I made some for our fathers' day dinner, we spruced it up with fresh chopped mint and parsley in addition to the dill, and added a bit of fresh lemon juice to finish it off. Just when I thought it couldn't be better, I made round two, and grated a bit of lemon zest in as well -- good call; a little zest goes a long way. I also experimented with some cumin, which was interesting though unnecessary. As usual, I can think of a hundred ways to tweak this so-called "recipe," like adding other spices, vegetables, herbs, juices, or even bases (yogurt, sour cream, cottage cheese, ricotta, etc) according to your taste. Don't be afraid to play around with it.

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Tzatziki

  • 1 15-20ish oz. tub of yogurt, sour cream, or (ick) other something (I used Fage brand greek yogurt)
  • 1 8-oz. block feta cheese, crumbled
  • juice of 1/2 a lemon
  • zest 1 lemon
  • 2 pickling cucumbers, grated
  • 1/4 cup fresh mint, chopped
  • 1/4 cup fresh dill, chopped
  • 1/4 cup fresh parsley, chopped (feel free to omit any herbs or add in any you like!)

Combine all ingredients; mix well to combine. Garnish with mint sprigs, dill, or lemon. Serve with crudites (chopped raw vegetables), pita chips, crackers, or anything else.

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Ramps in shallot butter

ramps11.jpg Nothing announces the end of gloomy winter and the coming of bright, bloomy Spring like ramps. Ramps resemble baby leeks, and taste like a cross between garlic and onion, only less pungent, more delicate green. Unlike leeks, ramps' green stalks are soft and can should be eaten. They're certainly Spring's hot item among chefs and gourmandes, and the most ramp-obsessed folks have been known to shell out as much as 20 bucks a pound for 'em. Now, you won't find me telling you they're worth that much -- after all, they were once mistaken as weeds and people spent time trying to rid their gardens of them -- but they are mighty tasty, and quite versatile. However, as they're expensive, I'd use them wisely.

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This May weekend was sadly wet, and we spent quite a bit of time indoors hoping for sun. Every so often the yellow showed its face for a fleeting moment, only to hide again behind the clouds. When taking an afternoon walk was pretty much out of the question, I decided to play with my ramps instead. I've been told they're great with asparagus in olive oil, or by themselves, but I don't have enough restraint to cook them plain. I knew I wanted to use butter, because let's face it -- nothing is worse for some butta in the pan. I did notice a pile of shallots in our potato/onion basket, and there's no combo like shallots and butter -- so I figured, as some ramps to the mix, and you might have some serious yum at your fingertips.

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Next time I'd serve the whole thing atop a slice of toasted baguette. While the dish was incredibly tasty, it may have been heavy on the onion/garlic flavor without something else to balance it out. It'd also be delicious over fish or chicken, or in roasted potatoes. As with sauteed onions, there are endless possibilities for how to use the ramp-shallot mixture. Just don't drown its flavor in a tomato sauce or anything, ok?

Ramps in Shallot Butter

1 shallot, 1 bunch of ramps, 2 Tbsp. butter, fleur de sel or sea salt

Slice off the roots from the ramps. Slice shallot thinly; saute in 1 Tbsp butter. Add second Tbsp butter and ramps, unsliced. Toss in pan so that butter coats vegetables. Saute about 1-2 minutes, until stalks are soft. Add fleur de sel or salt to taste.

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Edamame with some Latin flair

edamame11.jpg Edamame rarely find their way into my kitchen, and I really don't know why. They're a perfect addition to salads, an easy and elegant appetizer, and a perfect snack, but I can't think of the last time I bought them. No, really, I don't think I've every bought them. The ones in these pictures were leftover from my birthday party. Dina, another one of the birthday girls, made this easy recipe and I've been trying to figure out how to recreate it ever since.

See, Dina used sesame oil and this wonderful spice blend called Tajin; but she got the Tajin from Mexico, and it's not like I get to Mexico so often. (Update: in true American style, this stuff sells on Amazon for under four bucks; click here or on the link above to purchase. It's well worth a try.) In advance of posting this recipe, I attempted to recreate tajin with what I had around, and while I came pretty close, there are definitely some secret ingredients in the real thing that make it different. I used hot chili pepper, lime juice, and sea salt, which is a pretty good combo. And really, this recipe couldn't be easier -- or more addictive -- so give it a try.

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Edamame

  • 1 package edamame
  • about 1/8 cup sesame oil, or even less
  • tajin, or a mix of 2 Tbsp. chili flakes, 6 Tbsp lime juice, and 1 1/2 Tbsp. sea salt

Cook edamame according to package directions, until cooked through but still green. Transfer immediately into ice bath so that they keep their color. Transfer to a large bowl; toss with sesame oil to coat, and sprinkle with tajin to taste. Serve immediately. (They keep quite well in the fridge, for up to 2 weeks.)