Eggs With Leftovers

Recently a friend gave me a dozen fresh eggs, courtesy of her backyard hens.  After sharing them with my coworker, I took home six and improvised a great dinner of fresh eggs with leftovers.  It's based on a recipe I saw years ago, now lost.  I wish I could remember more about that original recipe -- kudos to the long-forgotten cook -- but suffice it to say that my version had its origins in a cooking magazine.

This recipe serves 2 hungry adults and 1 finicky kid, or 2 hungry adults only, which is about the same amount.

6 eggs
2-3 tablespoons milk
salt and pepper
half an onion, thinly sliced
half a red bell pepper, thinly sliced
a quantity of cooking oil
about a quarter-pound each of cooked ham and cooked chicken
cooked French fries, enough to mix in the eggs and serve on the side (try sweet potato fries!)

The ingredients

Beat the eggs lightly with the milk, salt and pepper in a medium bowl and set aside.  Warm the oil in the skillet over medium heat and sauté the onions or about 8 minutes, or until lightly browned.  Add the red bell peppers and cook until softened, about 5 more minutes.  Mix in the chicken and ham and stir until heated through.

In the skillet

Now mix in the eggs and cook until almost set.  Then mix in some of the French fries, reserving most of them for serving alongside the eggs.  Serve with your choice of toppings -- we like fresh salsa!

Ready to eat!

Try this recipe anytime a generous friend gives you yard eggs!  You can substitute freely, using whatever leftovers you have -- this is just what we had on hand.

Tomato Forest Bids You Farewell

Well, two hard freezes in a row may have been too much for the tomato forest.  After Wednesday's heavy rains washed all the dead and dying leaves off the plants, there really wasn't much left.  Some of the plants in the very back still had bright green leaves and even flowers, but their time is past.  Which is fine, really.  It's almost time to plant spring tomatoes!

Ripening on the dining room table now...

This year, the fall tomatoes produced very well, but just a little too slowly for the weather.  You never can tell:  some years, we don't get a frost until very late, and some years it sneaks up on us.  Most of these tomatoes will ripen on the counter, and the ones that don't we'll eat anyway.

Heavy equipment optional.

Fried green tomatoes isn't just a movie -- they're the easiest things in the world to cook.  Slice them fairly thick, dip them in something like milk, buttermilk or egg, then dredge them in something like cracker crumbs, bread crumbs or cornmeal.  Then fry them up!  I like mine with some sort of sauce.  Marinara sauce is good, but it doesn't seem right to serve tomatoes with tomato sauce.  Try sour cream mixed with a judicious amount of prepared horseradish.  There are probably young people in this very house who would vote for ketchup -- but don't listen to that sort of nonsense.

Cheers, and Happy New Year to you all!

Making The Most Of A Poor Harvest

This is half the sweet potato harvest for this fall:  it's all from one leftover 'Beauregard' planted near the tomato forest.  You may remember that this one plant easily covered 20 square feet and was pruned by repeatedly driving over it.  Maybe that had something to do with it...

Only one bucket!

Anyway, when all was said and done, we only got about four pounds of potatoes from that patch.  We decided to eat it all in one sitting.  If your heart is in good condition, you can make this recipe too: Sweet Potatoes Anna, modeled after the buttery French classic, Pommes Anna.  Preheat your oven to 400°.

Makes the Chief Engineer very nervous.

Now's your chance to use your mandoline that's been gathering dust all this time.  Slice about 3 pounds of potatoes as thinly as you can.  Mine are really too thick, but it won't matter much.  Melt a stick of butter (yes, an entire stick).

Rinsed and drained

Butter the bottom of a cast iron skillet or other ovenproof shallow pan, then arrange fans of potato slices.  When the first layer is completed, brush it with melted butter.  Sprinkle with salt, pepper and maybe a little bit of chopped fresh or dried thyme. 

Ready for oven!

Continue making buttered layers of seasoned sweet potatoes.  You'll need to press down with a spatula every so often, so that the layers compress together.  When you run out of sweet potatoes, pour the rest of the butter over the top (if there is any), sprinkle a final time with salt, pepper and thyme.  Pop into the hot oven for 30-45 minutes.  Keep a watchful eye after 30 minutes: it may burn on the top before it cooks all the way through, especially if your slices are thicker.  It's done when it's easily pierced with a knife or fork.

No inverting: it's a weeknight.

Remove from the oven.  If you're feeling quite like a TV chef, you can invert it onto a plate.  Otherwise, just serve and eat.  Last night, we had braised baby bok choy with ours.

Delicious!

We're hoping for better production from our other sweet potato patch.  It's planted with 'Bunch Porto Rican,' more plants, but in a smaller spot.  We'll see!

Finally! Cool Enough For A Ragù

No, not that kind -- a homemade spin on a traditional Italian sauce.  When I was growing up, we called this "Spaghetti Roast," but it's really a sort of ragù, long-simmered and meaty.

I don't use a recipe when I cook this, but I tried to measure things in case you want to give it a try.  It's a forgiving sauce.  If you don't like a certain ingredient, don't add it.  Feel free to substitute whatever you like! 

Brown a little better than this!

I love Italian sausage, so I start with that.  I browned about a pound of Italian sausage in my largest, heaviest pan over high heat.  Sweet, hot, it doesn't matter.  My sausage was ground.  When it's in a casing, I slice it into half-inch pieces.  After the sausage is browned, remove it to a bowl.  There should be some fat still sizzling in the pan.  If not, add a small dollop of olive oil.  Next, add a 2-3 pound chuck roast.  Or whatever sort of meat you like when you make pot roast.  Brown well on both sides.  I probably didn't brown this one quite enough.  When the meat is browned on both sides, remove it to the bowl. 

Bell pepper, onion and celery: the holy trinity

Next, add a mix of chopped vegetables.  Today I used 2 stalks of celery, almost a whole white onion and a leek that was leftover from something else.  Also, a whole green pepper.  Watch the heat -- you want to brown these vegetables but not burn them.  When the vegetables are almost tender, add a few cloves of chopped garlic.  How much you add depends on how much you like garlic.

Seasoned but not cooked

Let the garlic cook for a minute or so, just until you can smell it.  Now deglaze the pan.  Usually I just add the tomato sauces, but I was lucky this morning and had a little bit of leftover red wine.  Into the pot it went.  I heated the wine, scraping up all the browned bits from the bottom of the pan.  Then I added about 100 ounces of tomato-type products: tomato sauce, canned diced tomatoes, stewed whole tomatoes.  Again, your choice.  Around my house, people give you a funny look if there are too many whole tomatoes in the sauce, so I use 2 large cans of tomato sauce, 1 large can of diced tomatoes, and a small can of whole tomatoes.

Here's the fun part.  You flavor the sauce with anything your heart desires.  I use oregano, basil, crushed red pepper flakes, salt, black pepper, a teaspoon of white sugar, two bay leaves and fennel seeds.  If you have tough old gardener hands, you just pour the seeds into your hand and mash them together between your palms, mortar and pestle style.  The more Italian sausage I use, the less fennel I put in. You have to taste as you go, but I start with about half a tablespoon of dried oregano, a tablespoon of dried basil, a teaspoon of fennel seeds and a half-teaspoon of crushed red pepper.  Salt and pepper to taste.

Not too hot!

Now nestle the browned meat down into the sauce, and bring just barely to a boil.  Then turn the heat way down, cover the pot and let it cook on very low heat, all day. Actually, at this point, you could put the whole thing into a crockpot and forget about it.  I usually don't -- just one more thing to wash!  The idea is to cook a very long time, though, on very low heat.  Don't simmer too hard or the meat will be tough.

Shredded into bite-sized pieces

After a few hours, take the chuck roast out of the sauce and let cool.  Then shred the meat into bite-sized pieces, using your fingers.  That way, you won't miss any stray pieces of fat or tendon that you want to remove.

Serve over hot cooked pasta!

Spoon the cooked meat back into the sauce and stir well.  You can remove the bay leaves before serving if you like, but I don't.  Whoever gets the bay leaf in the plate gets to kiss the cook!

This recipe made 20 cups of sauce that freezes well.  Make it once and you can eat like a king every Sunday for the better part of autumn!

Time for Beets!

Beets.  It's what's for dinner

Time to plant beets, that is.  I figure, the time to get people excited about beets isn't harvest time.  By then, it's too late.  It's planting time!  Beets are easy to grow and delicious to eat.  You can eat the beet-tops too -- use them like spinach or chard.  You should try them at least once.  No other food has such a beautiful color.  Here's a recipe to get you started.

Shredded Beets with Fettuccine

Wear an apron.  Beet juice stains.

Wash and peel about 3 medium-sized beets.  Cut into chunks that are small enough to fit into your food processor.  Grate or shred the beets roughly.

Poppy Seeds

Toast 3 tablespoons of poppy seeds in a hot, dry skillet until they smell nutty, about 2 minutes. 

Yes.  5 tablespoons.  Vegetables convey virtue.

Remove poppy seeds and add 5 tablespoons of butter to the skillet.  Cook the butter over medium heat until beginning to brown. 

The bigger the skillet, the better.

Then stir in the beets, and season with salt and pepper.  Cook until the beets are the texture of cooked noodles, about 10 minutes.

Yum.

Meanwhile, cook one lb. of fettuccine noodles until al dente.  Drain and return to cooking pot.  Toss fettuccine with 1 tablespoon butter and 2/3 cup of grated parmesan cheese.  Season with salt and pepper.  Stir in the cooked beets and sprinkle with poppy seeds.  Add about a teaspoon of balsamic vinegar, more salt and pepper and mix again. 

White dishes make food look prettier.

Serve, topped with minced chives.  Makes enough for 6 normal people or 3 very hungry people.

For vegans, this is pretty good substituting olive oil for the butter.  Leave out the poppy seeds and parmesan and add toasted pine nuts instead.

Antique Cuisinart with the heart of a champion!

Don't you love that food processor?  It was my grandfather's -- part of my inheritance when he passed on.  Which was almost 20 years ago now!

Agriculture or Horticulture?

Farming or gardening?  What's the difference and does it even matter?  Merriam-Webster defines agriculture (and farming, for that matter) as "the science, art or practice of cultivating the soil, producing crops, and raising livestock..."  Horticulture's definition is very similar: "the science and art of growing fruits, vegetables, flowers or ornamental plants."  The definition of garden added herbs to the mix.  The difference seems to be whether or not the endeavor is commercial.  Plants for sale = farming.  Plants for pleasure = gardening.  This small semantic difference means a great deal in practice for me.  No matter how we love it, there's an optional air to gardening that doesn't exist for farming.

Public Library of Science, source here.

I think we plant people have erred when we try to apply the same principles across the board to both agriculture and horticulture. I think many gardeners now understand that vegetables can in fact be grown tucked into flowerbeds and patio containers.  I know lots of vegetable gardeners and not a single one of them has a 100-foot row.  Tilling every season is another practice, borrowed from agriculture, that is out of place in the ornamental garden.  (There's a bit of discussion out there now about whether it needs to be a part of agricultural practice at all, but that's for another time.)  And I, for one, am a little bit unsure whether chemical products tested in an agriculture environment will behave in the same way at home.  Mainly because I don't think gardeners behave the same way as farmers do.  Another discussion for later.

 

What concerns me today is what happens, though, when we try to apply good gardening techniques to farming.  I don't think it's appropriate to proclaim that one's own personal gardening preferences are suitable for agriculture as a whole.  For example, I don't use Roundup™ in my garden at home.  My yard is small and it's really just as easy for me to just pull a weed as it is to cook up some herbicide.  But I don't think it's out of line for farmers to use it.  As pesticides go, Roundup™ is on the low end of the toxicity scale.  It should be used responsibly and sparingly, but it's generally an environmental improvement over herbicides developed prior to 1971.

In 1850, 75% of American slaves were involved in the production of cotton.

Maybe I'm more sensitive to it because I garden in the South.  But I'm very much aware of what agriculture is like when farmers don't rely on certain beneficial chemicals.  I live in an area that was, in my lifetime, primarily cotton and sugar cane fields.  When these crops were introduced to Southeast Texas, they were only economically viable because some degree of forced labor existed.  First it was Native American labor, conscripted by Spanish missionaries.  Then it was slave labor.  Finally, prison farm labor provided the necessary manpower.  And guess what?  For most of that time, farmers used purely organic methods.  I'm not saying that organic gardeners favor slavery.  I am saying that some gardeners fail to look at the bigger picture.  For example, if cotton is not defoliated using certain chemicals, it must be hand-picked.  And picking cotton is no romantic, back-to-Nature experience.

Marinated cucumbers, organically grown

I'm not opposed to organic food, either.  I grow it, I buy it, I cook it, I eat it.  But I'm a person with the resources and the inclination to do it.  And I think it's short-sighted for us as a plant-community to insist that organically grown produce is the solution to the food production problems we have today.  I don't use much in the way of pesticides, organic or otherwise, in my garden.   But I do think it's possible to grow healthy, affordable food using non-organic (conventional) methods. 

Black spot

I don't think it's fair to claim that what's good for me in my little tiny less-than-a-quarter-acre garden will work for a subsistence-level farmer.  If I get black spot on my roses, I just put up with it.  If a farmer loses his crop to an insect pest, that's an entirely different thing.  Let's all step back a bit and try to see a bigger picture before we go around making rules that apply to the whole wide world.

Off Topic: Coffee Roasting

Photo: Jeff Kubina.  Licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.0 Generic license.

 Thursday I had the distinct pleasure of meeting Will Benitez of Katz Coffee, a local coffee importer, roaster and wholesale purveyor.  I only wish I had good pictures of my own.

Illustration public domain.

Will showed me the roasting and production area and explained how coffee is selected, graded, imported and roasted.  I had never seen green coffee beans before, and I didn't know that the darker the roast, the less caffeine remains in most beans.  As a gardener, I have seen coffee plants (very handsome) and other tropicals in the coffee family, but only as ornamentals.  It's too cold here to grow coffee successfully -- did you know that all coffee is grown within 1000 miles of the equator?

 

We then visited the cupping room and tasted a wonderful Guatemalan-Sumatran blend.  I'm partial to Sumatran coffee anyway (at least, when I'm flush), but this blend seemed brighter and fruitier.  See how sophisticated I sound already?  Will demonstrated Le Nez du Café by Jean Lenoir, a professional coffee tasting training tool.  There are 36 little bottles of concentrated aromas that comprise the essence of coffee.  I tested myself on #17:  I guessed "almond" but it was "apple."  It's harder than it sounds!

Photo: Wolfie, licensed  under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 2.5 Generic license.

Katz is the roaster behind great coffee-house beverages at places like Onion Creek Café, Benjy's and t'afia.  As someone who grew up against the scented backdrop of Maxwell House, roasting over on the East Side, I love that there is a local, independent alternative.  Kudos to Katz!

Southern Peas

Yesterday was our regularly scheduled workday in the Fort Bend Master Gardener's display gardens.  There was the barest hint of not-so-very-hot in the morning -- you can almost imagine that Fall will one day arrive.

Purple Hull Peas!

Anyway, it was a great turnout and we're almost ready for all the fall planting.  However, it has come to my attention that some of us do not know a single thing about Purple Hull Peas.  You may regard this post as a public service, brought to you by a traditional Southern gardener.

Almost ripe!

Purple Hull Peas, like Crowder Peas, Lady Peas, Cream Peas, Zipper Peas, et. al., are "Southern Peas," annual vegetables that will not tolerate cold weather.  You can plant them anytime after the weather warms up substantially, and you can plant them in succession: they only require 60-90 days before harvest.  They grow like a cross between a pole bean and a bush bean, except that the flower is bigger and (I think) prettier.  Plant in full or mostly full sun and provide regular water.  The more fertility in your soil, the better your production will be. 

Fancy flowers!

Southern peas, like all legumes, are wonderful nitrogen-fixers and are often planted as a cover crop or green manure.  After you harvest your last crop, leave the roots in the soil to decompose or till the whole thing under. 

I found out the hard way that southern peas are also fed to cattle.  (It never occurred to me to wonder why people called them "cow peas" or "field peas.")  Once upon a homesick time, when I was young and living away from home (in New York City!) I wandered the streets, looking for black-eyed peas.  Finally, someone understood what I was talking about.  "Oh!" he exclaimed.  "We feed those to cows!"  Well, we eat them.

Snap the young ones and cook them too!

Start with a smoked ham hock.  If you have to ask what that is, you might not be from around here!  Put the hock in a large saucepan and cover with water.  Boil for about an hour, then remove from the water and cut away the meat.  Discard the fat.  Throw the water away and return the meat and the bone to the pot.

Now add fresh southern peas and enough water to cover them.  Bring to a boil, then simmer for about 30 minutes, until the peas are almost tender.  At this point, you can add the aggrandizements - chopped green onions, garlic or sliced jalapenos.  Your choice!  Add a bit more water if needed, salt and pepper; then cook until tender to the bite.  We eat them just like this, or over steaming hot white rice.  For a traditional touch, add a splash of liquid from Trappey's Peppers in Vinegar.  For an ultra-traditional touch, leave the Trappey's bottle on the kitchen table forever more. 

Works every time...

One more thing:  the old-fashioned way to shell these peas is to con a child into doing it.  Usually, this is accomplished by insisting that only grown-ups are qualified to shell peas!

Jalapeno Update: Chipotle!

The jalapeno harvest continues, unabated.  The little 6-pack I planted this spring now qualifies me as an pepper farmer, so we've been busy inventing ways to preserve the bounty.  The latest experiment: Home-smoked chipotle peppers!

Chipotle peppers are typically smoke-dried jalapenos.  Ours are smaller than the canned ones at the grocery store, but they'll do.  We smoked about a pound of them outside on the grill, with mesquite chips.  Soak the chips first and then maintain a temperature of about 275° for maybe 3 hours.  Traditionally, only the red-ripe ones are smoked but we used both. 

Minor fracas ensued when Abby thought we were throwing wood chucks, instead of wood chips, on the fire, but we got that all straightened out!

I followed a very involved recipe using dried chili paste but after some experimentation, I realized that I could have used any sort of sauce.  Try barbeque sauce, sriracha sauce, or any sort of tomato-based prepared sauce.  From scratch, use tomato paste, dried red chile paste, fresh garlic, brown sugar, cider vinegar, salt and water.  Adjust seasonings as you prefer.  I don't like the sauce itself to be too spicy because our peppers have been so hot!  Cook for about 20 minutes, until the peppers soften and the sauce thickens.

You can keep this in the refrigerator for up to a month, but I processed mine in a boiling water bath for 15 minutes.  I plan to store it in the pantry with the other 20 jars of jalapenos!

Should you compost your tomato plants?

Yes, compost everything -- you want to return all possible nutrients to your soil.  No, composting tomatoes spreads disease and weeds.

I'm ambivalent.  One the one hand, I don't usually have much trouble with diseased tomato plants.  I struggle mightily with insects, but haven't had much tomato blight or viral problems.  On the other hand, the old vines take forever to break down in my compost pile.  And I know for a fact that my compost doesn't get hot enough.

If I were trying to grow tomatoes from seeds, I'd never have any success.  But they are always popping up in the compost, after I've diligently spread it all around my garden.  Picture those huge, sprawling cherry tomato plants all over the garden!

Experts say you can safely compost tomato plants, even diseased ones, if you're confident that your compost pile reaches temperatures of 150 degrees, and you cure it long enough for all the plant material to completely die.  The worst of the tomato diseases, like late blight, cannot survive without a living host.  So in theory, if your compost-making process is perfect, disease won't be a problem.

If, like me, you don't have disease problems, go ahead and compost your old tomato plants.  My seedlings are as likely to come from kitchen waste as they are from garden debris.

Here's a good explanation of the tomato-composting issue.

Cold Noodles with Cucumbers and Peanut Sauce

Wondering what to do with the cucumber bounty from the garden?  Try this:  it reminds me of my college days, when only the most cutting-edge Chinese restaurants served cold sesame noodles.   Back then, we ate them topped with shredded chicken.  This is the tofu version.

Cook 12 ounces of noodles (lo mein, chow mein, thin spaghetti, or whatever you prefer).  Drain, reserving 1 cup of cooking water.  Plunge the cooked noodles into ice water to cool, then drain again.  Add the leaves only of 1 bunch of cilantro and 1 cucumber, peeled, seeded, and thinly sliced.

In a blender, mix 3/4 cup of peanut butter, 2 tablespoons mirin, 2 tablespoons soy sauce, 2 tablespoons rice vinegar, 1 tablespoon sesame oil and as much chili-garlic paste as you like.  With the blender running, add as much of the cooking liquid as you need to make a sauce that is thin enough to flow but thick enough to coat the noodles.

Mix noodles, cilantro, cucumbers and sauce in a large bowl.  Top with cooked tofu, shredded chicken, roasted peanuts or bean sprouts.  Serve cold or cool.

Well, that's one cucumber down!

Field Trip: Urban Harvest Market and Wabash Antique & Feed Store

This morning we were up early (for us) and off to the Urban Harvest Eastside Farmer's Market to see what we could see.  It was already hot when we got there at 10:00 am.  This market has a good variety of produce and other items for sale, and it's all labeled either "conventional" or "organic."  We bought tomatoes and flowers from Cuts of Color (Weimer) and basil from Garden of Eden (Westbury area).

A cold cup of peach lemonade from Radical Eats refreshed us and we were off to our next stop, the Wabash Antique and Feed Store.  This part of town has changed so much -- we almost didn't recognize it.  Our visit here was part of the bribery campaign required to get a 7-year-old up and moving on Saturday morning.  You can always count on something cute and cuddly to see there: ducklings, chicks, rabbits, quail, pigeons and more.  I bought a pretty Sweet Aussie Basil; Abby and Tom petted what needed petting.