Last Night’s Dinner

When temperatures rise, our whole way of eating changes – we often make dinner out of nothing but a good, lean protein and a whole mess of veggies. Again, it’s about stripping things down, simplifying flavors so that the freshness of the good stuff we bring home from the market shines through.

Last night was another of those meals. A couple halibut filets, seared in olive oil until golden, and served on top of a beet “carpaccio” – red and golden beets sliced as thinly as possible (and since my mandoline slicer has disappeared since our move, I did it the old fashioned way), steeped briefly in vinegar (champagne vinegar for the golden beets; sherry for the red), then layered on our plates. They got a sprinkling of lemon thyme, some thinly sliced purple scallions, Maldon salt, freshly ground pepper and a drizzle of grassy olive oil before the fish went on top, and I finished the plates with a salad of baby mustard greens and picked flat-leaf parsley.

The flavors were fresh and vibrant, and dinner was ready in minutes, with minimal cleanup – leaving us more time to enjoy the warm evening. Isn’t that what summer cooking is all about?

“I love how we eat this time of year. Everything is so fresh and good we don’t have to do much to it.”

It’s so true. A little salt, good olive oil, and the kiss of a hardwood fire is just about all you need to get the best out of summer’s bounty. Gild the lily with a little balsamic vinegar or lemon, or shards of salty Pecorino Romano, but exercise restraint. Good ingredients need little adornment.

So I didn’t. Click the photo to see my notes in Flickr.

Another end to a busy weekend, but it was a good one, if a little hot and sticky at the end. I can’t complain too much - after all, it is summer, and the heat is helping bring forth all sorts of good things to eat. Like these raspberries, for example. They are bursting out all over our yard, ripening as quickly as we can pick and eat them. Not a bad problem to have.

Speaking of berries and things that go with them, I really need to tell you about this salad I made earlier in the week. It doesn’t technically fall under the “Weekend Eats” category, but since I didn’t get around to doing a proper post I want to mention it here. I brought home some rhubarb from one of the farmers markets in Boston, and Mike cooked it down to a puree. We figured that way he could use it in cocktails and I could incorporate it into meals, and I did just that, combining it with a little balsamic vinegar and olive oil to dress a salad of tender spinach, strawberries, crushed hazelnuts and lots of black pepper. It was lovely - tart and creamy and really delicious. We had the salad alongside simply sauteed Bomster scallops, but the salad would be an awesome main course with a little feta or goat cheese crumbled on top.

But back to the weekend, which we kicked off with another beautiful bird from Pat’s Pastured, expertly grilled by my guy. He made another compound butter, this time seasoning it with plenty of garlic scapes, thyme and summer savory, and he also chucked a couple of foil-wrapped baking potatoes right onto the coals to cook while the chicken grilled.

My contribution was a simple salad and sparkling conversation (ha). Mostly, I ooohed and aaahed and licked my fingers, happily munching away on my meal.

Oh! But I did bring home the wine for Friday dinner - and funnily enough, it was the second Chenas we drank this week. Not a common varietal, at least not for us, but we really loved both of the versions we tried.

Saturday morning came and again we made our way to Hope High, not as early as we would have liked, but still in plenty of time to pick up what we needed: another chicken for later this week, various veggies, and six (count ‘em) more bunches of garlic scapes, destined for pesto.

We also picked up another fresh, gorgeous lobster from Matunuck, which turned into lunch:

I’d been craving a lobster roll since our ill-fated attempt to get into Summer Shack in Boston on Thursday evening with friends visiting from Brooklyn, so I figured I’d make some myself. I boiled the lobster for 10 minutes in salted water, removed the meat from the shell, and when it cooled a bit I chunked it up and bound it with a mix of mayo, creme fraiche, lemon juice, salt, pepper and summer savory. I divided the mixture and spooned it into two buttered, toasted whole wheat hot dog buns, lined with a little soft buttercrunch lettuce. They were a little drippy, but divine, particularly with cold Amadeus white bier.

Mike took the reins after that, with a lovely round of Blue Moon cocktails and an even lovelier pork butt, slow-cooked for hours in our new Weber Bullet smoker.

He also put together a delicious vinegar sauce for the pork, and I provided the sides: my basic potato salad, subbing in some garlic scape pesto and (yes, again) summer savory for the usual dill, as well as a tomato and cucumber salad over more of that buttercrunch lettuce.

Just looking at this makes me want to eat this meal all over again.

The only thing we ate at home on Sunday was breakfast - we had a full day of errands ahead of us, and a Zipcar to take us around, so I wanted to fortify us for our travels with something substantial:

My spin on croque madame, a simplified version with grated gruyere mixed into a spread rather than a sauce Mornay.

I’m still completely dazzled by the eggs we can get here - Wishing Stone Farm’s are probably the best we’ve gotten anywhere.

Tired from our day and struggling in the oppressive heat, we decided on a late lunch/early dinner at El Rancho Grande. A couple of cold beers and several plates of food later, we headed home full and happy, already looking forward to our next visit.

Heavenly carrots from the Copley farmers’ market - I wish I could remember the name of the farm. I’ll be back for more and will make a note of it.

This is totally Amy’s fault. I know it’s not the most sustainable option, and it’s definitely not local, but this snapper caught my eye at Whole Foods and I couldn’t leave without it. The filets are simply pan-seared and served on top of peas, favas, carrots and shallot, sauteed ever-so-briefly in butter and finished with a little white vermouth and fresh dill.

To go with the fish, a lip-smacker from our most recent mixed case. Yum.

There will come a time when I’m sick of summer squash. But that time is a long way off.

There will never come a time when I’m sick of pasta. This one’s tossed with the aforementioned summer squash, the rest of our first summer tomato, soft goat cheese, lemon juice and zest, and a sprinkling of opal basil. Simple and delicious.

This really is the most exciting time of year to cook, isn’t it?

I said to Mike the other night that I want my old life back. Which isn’t exactly true… in fact, it’s mostly false. I adore where we live – both the city and the dwelling. I love working in Boston again, rediscovering old haunts and staking out new ones. I am incredibly happy with how this move has helped me physically, and how the clean air, slower pace and quieter surroundings have been for our mental health. Making this move was the right thing at the right time, and I have no regrets. But it has come with a price.

I step out the door in the morning, and I don’t arrive home until almost 13 hours later. It’s a long day for me – for both of us. And I still cook, most nights, and there have been so many meals over the last couple of weeks that I have wanted to share here, but I just can’t seem to make the time. Heck, I can’t even keep up with comments, email, any of it.

My new laptop is great, but I’ve been less than impressed by the MBTA’s free wi-fi. Service is spotty, if it works at all, and the time I thought I could carve out at either end of my commute to process photos, draft and publish blog posts, and generally keep up with life on the internets just hasn’t materialized. And I miss it.

It’s funny, this thing we do. You read someone’s blog, look at their photos, get a glimpse into their homes and their lives. You comment and reply to comments. You make connections. And being away from it, not having the time that I would like to have to keep up with this little part of my life has been difficult and frustrating. And yes, I suppose the fact that when I get home at the end of the day, I’m mostly interested in sitting with my husband and the cats, having a cocktail while we talk about our day and prep dinner rather than rushing off to get online means that my priorities are where they should be, but I miss having the time to fit it all in. I wish there were more hours in the day, even just one, so that I could fit it all in.

I hate to complain, because in the grand scheme of things, this is so very minor. When I started this blog, it was a way for me to catalogue what I was cooking, and in a way, to keep track of what was going on in our lives at the time. When we decided to move here one of the first things we did was scope out the food scene, and eating our way around our new city has been a wonderful experience that I wish I were keeping a better record of.

Summer’s here, and as we all know, it goes by far too quickly. Here’s hoping I can save a few snapshots of it for posterity.

Since we got Pollan-ated, buying humanely raised, free roaming chickens has been a priority for us. When we still lived in NYC it was easy – we could rely on “the bearded guy” (in our case, Mike of Tamarack Hollow Farm) or a few other trusted Greenmarket purveyors for the good stuff, and while we pay far more than for a supermarket bird, we have found it to be well worth it in terms of quality and flavor. That we were spending more also meant it was imperative to use every bit – one whole roasted or grilled chicken would yield a great dinner the first night, then remaining meat would be shredded and incorporated into soup or pot pie or taco/enchilada filling or chicken salad, and the bones and trimmings would be frozen and used for stock.

When we moved, we hoped we would be able to find chicken of the same quality that we had grown accustomed to. We had heard great things about Antonelli’s on Federal Hill, but the birds we brought home, while unarguably fresh, were lacking in the flavor department. We were incredibly disappointed, and though we knew hat in a pinch we could (and did) fall back on the air-chilled, organic free range birds sold at Whole Foods and the like, we missed the whole connection of being able to talk to the person who actually raised those chickens. It may sound hokey, but it’s true, and it’s important to us.

The Hope High farmers’ market kicked off in full force last Saturday, and as we have done for the last several preview weeks, Mike and I made the short walk down to get there bright and early. Though we had always brought home good things to eat from the pre-season market, the offerings were a bit sparse, so we were thrilled to see so many new stands when we arrived. Among them was Pat’s Pastured, selling grass-fed ground beef from Watson Farm, and pastured pork and chickens from their own Casey Farm. We waited our turn and made our selections, then we waited for our beautiful bird to thaw in the fridge (apparently local laws prohibit them from selling fresh meat, so everything must be frozen).

Yesterday, our chicken was finally ready to cook, and while I was on the train home, Mike got the grill going, spatchcocked the bird and rubbed it down with a compound butter spiked with his chile powder and smoked paprika. We enjoyed a cocktail on the patio while it cooked, and from the smell of it we knew we were in for something good.

When the chicken was nearly done, I prepared the sides – black-eyed peas, doctored up with shallot and smoked paprika, and collards from the farmers’ market, stemmed and chopped, quickly sautéed in olive oil then covered and left to steam through, and finally hit with a splash of sherry vinegar before serving. Mike warmed up a little of the barbecue sauce he made over the weekend to serve on the side, and once he carved the chicken into serving pieces, we sat down to give it a taste.

It was exactly what we’ve been missing – ultra-crispy skin, juicy and richly flavored meat, absolutely delicious. We all but forgot about the sauce since the chicken was so good on its own, and we hadn’t even finished our meal before we were talking about what to do with our next bird, and about stockpiling some in the freezer when the market season nears its end in November. I can’t wait to walk up to the guy at Pat’s Pastured on Saturday, introduce myself and thank him for the first of what I’m sure will be many great chicken dinners.

I’m not sure but I think the excessive heat we’ve had the last two days has impaired my ability to successfully put a meal together. I didn’t even attempt it on Monday night (we ordered a pizza), but since Mike had installed the air conditioner, I figured I’d give it a shot last night. After all, we had a package of Bomster Scallops thawed in the fridge, and I was anxious to see what the fuss is all about. I figured they’d be a good option for a quick dinner anyway, as scallops really take just minutes to cook, and they wouldn’t heat up the kitchen too much.

I decided rather than searing the scallops, I’d give them a brief soak in buttermilk before coating them in cornmeal. The first problem I encountered is that our buttermilk had frozen in the back of the fridge (as did our crème fraiche, which is why the lemon-savory cream I planned to serve with the scallops didn’t materialize – strike two).

I pressed forward, figuring the buttermilk slush would re-liquefy soon enough (it did). But then I used the wrong pan. Now, you all know how much I love our cast iron skillet, and I use it for darn near everything, but the thing just got too nuclear hot for these scallops – my first batch stuck to the pan, leaving charred cornmeal in the bottom, the scallops still raw.

I quickly grabbed our nonstick pan and got that heating for the next batch, and it worked better, though the crust itself was pretty unsuccessful – the scallops gave off so much liquid after I pulled them out of the pan that the crust was soggy by the time I plated. They were tasty, but not at all what I had intended.

I was more successful with the accompaniments – black rice cooked with shallot and lots of fresh summer savory (already chopped for the lemon-savory cream that was not to be), and blanched shaved asparagus, all dressed with a healthy squeeze of lemon juice. It was light and fresh tasting, not to mention lovely to look at, and I’ll likely revisit the combination in the future. I’m betting it would be great with a poached egg on top.

I wouldn’t call this meal a complete disaster, but it was disappointing. The scallops themselves were, as advertised, really delicious, and I look forward to picking up more at the farmers’ market this weekend and giving them another go next week. But I’ll skip the cornmeal crust.

(On an unrelated note, check out Mike’s first contribution to the Tales of the Cocktail blog, up today.)

So how was your weekend?

Where did our June weather go? After a stretch of mostly sunny, beautiful and warm days, we woke to grey, gloomy and COLD. How am I supposed to play with light, bright springtime flavors when all I want to do is curl up under blankets with a mug of tea to get the chill out of my bones? I really must protest.

My crankiness about the weather aside, soup is often the first thing I think of making on damp, rainy days, and I suppose I could have gone with an elegant, light puree of peas or asparagus, but I wanted something a little heartier. Not winter-strength hearty, but a soup with a little more heft.

I rummaged through the fridge and pantry and came up with a pound of chicken and red pepper sausage, roasted red pepper strips with garlic and herbs in olive oil, some of my homemade chicken stock, canned tomatoes and a box of Puy lentils. I removed the sausage from its casings and crumbled it into my soup pot with a little bit of olive oil to brown while I chopped up an onion and a couple of cloves of garlic. Those went into the pot next, along with the roasted peppers and a generous dollop of harissa paste for some heat. Once everything was nicely toasty, I added the tomatoes (half of a large can, plus juices), stock, and a cup of the lentils, lidded up the pan and let it cook away until the lentils were tender. I adjusted the seasoning and tossed in a couple of handfuls of another kitchen staple – some frozen chopped spinach.

While the soup cooked I sliced a couple of thick pieces of the sourdough loaf Mike baked yesterday and re-warmed them in the oven. (I’ll let him go into more depth about the bread if he wants to – but trust me when I say it’s pretty awesome to come home from work and walk directly into a kitchen filled with the smell of bread baking, and sharing the first slice still warm from the oven is pretty freaking amazing. I think we’ve eaten half of the loaf already. It’s delicious and I am, as ever, a lucky girl.)

This soup was a winner with its light and savory broth, the lentils and spinach providing a little earthiness, and the sausage lending a satisfying meatiness. The heat of the harissa was definitely present, but it was more of an overall warmth in each spoonful rather than a knock-you-over-the-head pepperiness. This was not the most seasonal dinner, but I can see us coming back to this in September and October, when autumn’s chill is in the air and we’ve got an abundance of late-season, home-roasted peppers.