Sunday, August 16, 2015

Out the Old, In the New

I love Halloween. No, scratch that: I adore Halloween. Truly. In fact, if I could find a way to make it socially acceptable, I would dress up as a scary witch with a smooshed black hat and a warty, crooked nose. I'd go out, and yell "Trick-or-Treat!" right along with the tiny people. In fact, my height and relative arm-length advantage might make for a real coup d'etat in the candy score. I'd be like some mythical Halloween legend. Maybe, after some years and careful dedication to my part, I'd even garner the same attention as the Chester Headless Horseman! Ah. Now there's a story...

The place where I spent my first two years of college, in Chester, NH, had the tradition of the Headless Horseman. For a small town of (at that time) less than 1,000, it wasn't unusual to see at least that many trick-or-treaters filing up and down either side of the town's main road, Chester St. When it got dark, the Headless Horseman came, riding atop a huge black horse and carrying his pumpkin "head" in the crook of his arm. He'd ride up and down the street, scaring the little goblins, and adults, too! It was very cool, but also a little scary; even for this witch-in-waiting!

I love all the holidays, but there's just something special about getting to dress up and be someone you're not, for the sole purpose of extorting candy from your neighbors. Maybe the kid in me yearns to go back to those carefree years. Because, much as I love them--and I'm sure most New Englander's would agree--holidays in New England can be a little stressful, especially in the small, quaint towns. The town where I live, Amherst, NH--blanketed by snow as it usually is by Christmas--looks like something that just sprung off the pages of a Charles Dickens novel. We have a lot of tradition, history, and no small amount of good taste and decorum to live up to. It can be daunting. Thanksgiving, Halloween, Christmas...they're big holidays, and New England is intrinsically linked to them all, by history, geography, and even climate. The Puritans first Thanksgiving in Plymouth, Mass, Sleepy Hollow, NY and the Legend of the Headless Horseman, the picture postcard quaintness of a New England Christmas and the snow, and snow...and more snow!

So, as a lover of Halloween, I have sort of been biding my time, waiting for that invisible line to be crossed; the line that signals the end of summer and the beginning of Halloween season (err...Fall). That invisible line is APPLE PICKIN' SEASON! Because apple season, well, it's almost an unofficial holiday in its own right! We have festivals and carnivals, and auxiliary events dedicated to it. And if ever there was legislation offered up to make apple pickin' season an official holiday, I'd be the first one at the ballot box! But, for now bereft of its own official status as a holiday, apple pickin' season is what marks the change in seasons. Once it happens, I know to expect to see bags of Halloween candy piled in impossibly high displays at area stores.

So I had to do a double-take when I was out doing my weekly shop early last week and saw Halloween candy displayed in prime store real estate, at the front of the store. Reese's Cups normally come in orange bags, and for that matter, so do Kit Kats (reddish-orange, anyway). Snickers and Milkyway bars are usually in brown bags, which work equally as well as red, because Halloween does happen in the Fall, after all. But there was something different about these bags. They had little drawings of ghosts and skeletons and pumpkins... HALLOWEEN!! my inner child cried out. But no, my keen observation of other store patrons, their dress, the heat-induced crankiness of their little would-be goblins, and of course, the things in their carts (watermelon, salad makings, barbeque-ready meats), all pointed to the fact that we're still knee-deep in summer. How could this happen?

So I'm standing there, looking at this mountain of candy, and, before I knew what I was doing, I grabbed a bag of bright orange Reese's Cups and literally RAN over to the register with my loot (before good sense could overrule my oh-so decadent, Halloween candy-loving side!) I didn't even sneer at the woman in front of me when she turned to look at my purchase and boomed "Oh My God. They Have Halloween Candy Already Don't You Just Hate That?" Oh no, I love it, lady. Sincerely. Love. It. Now stop judging me!

At home, whilst munching away on a Reese's Cup, I start thinking about Halloween and the way it used to be when I was a kid. We stayed out late. We went inside strangers' homes. We went through homemade haunted houses and played tricks on each other and rode our bikes in full makeup and costume, bags of candy dangling dangerously close to the front tire spokes. And the family who left a bushel of apples on their porch? We were so displeased that we each left a note. Mine said something like:  "Thank you for the apples, but please hand out REAL food next year (and not just candy corn!). Yes, we were little hooligans, but we weren't mean, and we could use the apple as a bribe to get our mom to let us eat some of our candy that night! We were even allowed to eat the homemade stuff that didn't look iffy: Popcorn balls, Rice Crispy Treats, caramels... mmmm caramels. 

A few days after my trip to the store, the weather started to change. The oppressive humidity went away, and we had temps in the 70's with a nice wind that made it feel even cooler. Not bad for a New England summer. I started to think about turning on the oven. Then I thought better of it and decided that firing up the old stove might be a good compromise. An hour or so later, this is what I'd made: 

Uhmmm, it is now three hours later, and I'm finally able to get back on my computer. In the meantime, this was happening:


Didn't have the heart to bump him off the comfy chair he
appropriated not two seconds after I left it to get a glass of water.
Oh, and cats DO snore. And it's cute. Really cute.
Darn that cuteness.


And now for the recipe: 

Easy Homemade Salted Caramels to Put You in Mind of Halloween

1 regular size can of sweetened condensed milk (8 oz, I think?)
A few tablespoons of cream or evaporated milk
4 tablespoons of butter
1/2 teaspoon flaked sea salt, or good old Morton's salt in the blue container (use less if you use the regular salt)

Place everything but the salt into a heavy bottomed, non-reactive sauce pot. Stainless steel, enameled, or glass are good choices. I don't advise using "non-stick." Start it under medium heat, stirring constantly, until the sides begin to bubble. The heat will cause the sugars in the milk to turn to volcanize and tumble in on itself. At this point, it will look like a lava and be quite hot, so it's important to keep small children and curious pets well away from the stove during this step. Once the mixture is up to temp, turn it down to the lowest setting. Watch it carefully for overflowing and splattering, but resist the urge to stir it constantly. If you must, dip a silicone spatula in at the sides of the pan and gently fold inward, following the natural inward flow of the caramel. If you smell burning at any point, that means the heat was too high and you'll unfortunately have to throw it out and start over (unless you actually like the taste of burnt caramel). 


When the caramel reaches softball stage after a few minutes on heat, you'll want to move to the next step and start working it. Use your silicone spatula to scrape the caramel out onto a clean, non-porous surface. You can use a baking sheet, clean counter, or even a baking tile. I used a baking sheet and my Silpat silicone bakers' mat  for this step. 

Tip: To test that your caramel is ready to be worked, spoon a dime-sized amount onto a plate. Wait until you can touch it without burning yourself, then gently roll it up between your fingers. If it rolls into a softball and keeps it shape, it's ready to be worked.

Work the caramel using two large spoons, two spatulas, or even two large, non-serrated knives. Start by rolling it out flat, like you're frosting a cake. Sprinkle a little of the salt over the caramel, then "knead" it with the utensils until it cools enough to be worked by hand. Place it between two layers of wax paper and flatten it out with a rolling pin. Lift it up, fold it into thirds, place back in between the wax paper and roll out again. Continue to do this, adding a pinch of salt with each fold, until the caramel begins to glaze. You'll see it go from rather dull to shiny. Once you're at this point, you're ready to add the last bit of salt to the top. No more folding at this point. Just put the wax paper back over the salted top of the caramel and gently press down on it. Discard the wax paper, and cut the caramel into whatever shape you desire. I decided on 2" long candies of about 1/2" in width. You'll get about 20 candies this way, give or take (it's not an exact science). Cut strips of wax paper slightly larger than your candies, and hand wrap each, twisting the ends to close. 


These would make a great gift, especially loaded up into one or two of those pretty "old style" Mason jars from Ball Corp. They began re-releasing the colored glass jars a few years ago, and I have used both the blue and the green. There's just something about a colored glass Ball Jar that's homey and stylish, and...well, just spectacularly sweet! I would decorate my whole pantry with them if I could. 

Let me know how your caramels turn out!



Friday, August 7, 2015

Profit vs. Quality. The Ultimate Smackdown.

I recently learned that one of my favorite local restaurants was closing its doors. Roam Cafe in Wilton opened about three years ago. My first visit, for breakfast soon after they'd opened, was not, I admit, an altogether stellar one. My server was a tall, youngish woman sporting a sloppy chignon, short-shorts, and an expression that communicated she wasn't happy about being there, and even less so about having to serve me my veggie omelet and coffee. I chalked that first encounter up to the typical opening week "settling in" period, which I think all new restaurants must go through. My omelet was great, the coffee worth paying a premium for. For that I forgave the lackluster enthusiasm, because I've experienced similar nerve-wearing situations. I once made a vat of vegetarian (gasp!) chili for a town full of discerning and die-hard meat eaters; I opened and ran a college concession, catered a town meeting luncheon for the sitting governor, and have been the only server for twenty eight tables and an ice cream bar--when two servers who should have shown up--didn't.

Life in the food service world is hard and unforgiving. Now, it seems everyone is ready to jump online to rate their satisfaction (or lack thereof) over their dining experience. That's great, when it's a motivating factor to improve in the areas that need improvement. But it must be so frustrating to be working hard, only to see a review from one bad night, that may or may not have any grounding in reality (google bogus restaurant reviews). Roam Cafe was like other better restaurants; it had mostly stellar reviews, but a few that were not so. No big deal there. I like to think I've become good at figuring out which reviews are legit, and which are simply born of a fickle and impossible-to-please character; that customer who must always find fault with something--BAH!

There was a time I would have researched places online before deciding to where to eat. After all, eating out is an investment today. Where I live, it's certainly not out of the ordinary to expect to pay $25+ per person at a nice restaurant, for a sit-down lunch. Add anywhere from $15-$25 on to that for a nice dinner out, NOT including drinks and tip. And, nothing against this part of New England, but it's not like I live in a cultural mecca. Now, combine that cost with weekly morning coffees, the odd take-out meal, maybe a guilty bite at the local fast food or greasy spoon...and pretty soon you're spending your discretionary income to pay someone else to cook for you. Did I say "discretionary income?" Really, who worries about that? Who has that? Just call it: Pre-spent, or misspent savings.

Fortunately for us, we're not like that frog in a pot of warming water, who comes closer to frog heaven with each upward tick of the dial. We're noticing that our wallets are lighter, our bank statements less of a statement and more of a whimper. But the other side of this coin is what the stats prove: despite the known health risks long associated with "fast" food, we're eating more of it...instead of just eating out a little less often, we're choosing to spend our money at the Taco Bells or McDonald's, instead of at the Roam Cafe's of the world. And that's sad. Add to to all the cost, the relentless hours, the spiteful reviews, and I think that would be enough to do me in, or at least have me behaving like Seinfeld's Soup Nazi. "No soup for you!" Oh yes, it would be a cocktail for disaster.

My turn to play the diner! 1970-something. My sister and I played 
"restaurant"on Nana's back porch. Ambiance was in the details: Nana's 
good linens from Woody's, an old transistor radio, and an owl candle. 
I don't look too happy. Maybe spinach was on the menu?
On her Facebook page, the former owner of Roam Cafe offered an explanation for the closure, and one of those reasons supports the above. Cost. From an operational perspective, small locals have to act like large conglomerates. They must carry high cost insurance, they must pay for the costs associated with having employees, and they are weighed down with so much of the business part, that the big deal motivations for those who start out dreaming about opening their own restaurant--the food, the service, and the sense of community--simply must feel like added burdens to be managed. As one who has dreamed of opening her own small restaurant, Roam's experience hasn't just given me doubt--it's made me wonder how people do it at all. But they do.

On a related note: Fast food will always be fast food, but lately it appears these big companies are pulling out the stops to put on a friendly-neighborhood face. McDonald's is set to start offering table-side service, and Burger King stores are revamping their outward image to look more like a Chipotle's (still fast food, but with limited, simple ingredients we use in our own kitchens). Hmmm. Someone's grandma out there is very wisely shaking her head and calling this nothing more than "putting makeup on a pig." Right on, Grandma!

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Of Brits, Burdock...and Bubba Gump

The Brits enjoy a rather odd-sounding drink that combines burdock root and dandelion. My mother, Avril, comes from the North Yorkshire region of Britain. She met my dad, Charles, a U.S. serviceman, while he was stationed there at Menwith Hill in the early 1960s. The two married and moved to Germany, where my mother gave birth to my older sister, Gwen. Soon after, dad moved his little family back to the states, and settled in his hometown of Prince Frederick, Maryland. PF is a bedroom community of DC, on the western shore of the Chesapeake Bay. I made my arrival not long after that.

As for that burdock and dandelion combination: I'd love to try my hand at making my own version of the drink my mom remembers. Apparently it can be prepared as a bubbly tonic, or tea. Yes, tea. I'm loving that! Burdock has long been in use as an herbal treatment for everything from stomach upset to cancer. Dandelion, likewise, has shown to have curative benefits and is commonly used as a diuretic aid, and also to treat problems of the liver, among other things.

To say that I'm intrigued is an understatement; but I've learned enough from my preliminary research to know that a trip down the street to the local herbalist would be a good idea. Both dandelion and burdock roots can have undesired effects when ingested, or even used externally on the skin. Burdock, particularly, can be risky because it may accidentally be picked with Belladonna and deadly nightshade, which are toxic, according to WebMD. Yeah. The "deadly" part of deadly nightshade would be enough to keep me away, barring further research. A primer on identifying poisonous flora that grow alongside the beneficial herbs is warranted.

The use of herbs in medicine is a great idea. But I also like the way uncommon herbs enhance food flavor while giving a gentle boost of vitamins and minerals that may be missing in our western diet. And, since I'm not quite ready to trot-out my version of Susan's Amazing Burdock & Dandelion Elixer for What Ails Ya!, I am thinking a lot about herbals, flora, and in particular, roses, lately. And of course. For what girl doesn't like roses? (Ok, I'm sure they're out there...on an island somewhere).

Food grade rose petals can be
used in food, cosmetics, or in
their natural state, as an aromatic.
So here's the story: I spent my formative college years in a town that was very close to Canterbury Shaker Village. Lucky for me, the woman who manned the school's bookstore had some say in what was purchased, and as a woman in love with anything Shaker, she sold a little cookbook titled Seasoned with Grace: My Generation of Shaker Cooking, a book of Shaker recipes by Eldress Bertha Lindsay. I flipped thru it one day and was sold when I came to a recipe for sugared rose petals. That recipe was my first foray into the world of edible florals gastronomy. I plunked my $12 on the table (which, back then, was a lot for a broke college student in the late 80s!). Unfortunately, I gave away or misplaced that book in the intervening years. This is where the internet earns its chops. It is, after nearly a quarter century, still available for purchase!.

I've yet to make those sugared rose petals. I just never got off my bum and thought to buy edible rose petals (othewise known as "food grade" rose petals), at least, not until this March, when I found the very thing online for a relative song. So what's a girl to do with two huge bags of orgasmically good smelling rose petals? Answer: Lots of good stuff! First, I'm going to make rose petal jelly.

I don't have Eldress Lindsay's recipes, but a quick look online yielded a treasure trove of ideas for the surely tasty, and obviously very pretty rose petal jelly, like this one.

These multi-colored petals
will make a gorgeous jelly!
Before the summer's out I'll make another batch of butter pickles, and when the leaves start to turn the canning pot will be filled with apple chutney, applesauce, apple jelly, apple butter...oh Lordy, I'm turnin' in to the apple version of Bubba Gump!


Keep an eye out for all these recipes, and more!

Sunday, August 2, 2015

As Goals Go...


If you're like me and a lot of other people, you start out every brand new year with a resolution of some kind. Most of these begin with some version of "This year I resolve to get healthy." Ahh, those resolutions; they're fun to make but ever so much more fun to break. Soon the holidays are over and it's back to reality. Six months down the road, Spring is in full swing and those resolutions get quietly re-made-reinforced, and re-tooled for the reality of our lives. It can be frustrating, right?

So, this year, rather than resolve to trim down or wear myself out on the gym elliptical machine, I decided to set more realistic goals. See, I still want need to eat chocolate, even tho I know I shouldn't. So I knew I had to strike a bargain with myself, but one that I could live with: 1). I get chocolate if I eat a salad. 2). I get chocolate if I go for a walk. Okay, well, not quite that simplistic, but those are the basics of my goal reaching plan. I'm happy with it so far.


And I'm also ecstatically happy about this cucumber salad. It's versatile, robust, colorful, and light. Just looking at it makes me happy! It's also easy to make, and the ingredients are readily available this time of year. Even better if you can pull them out of your own, or a generous friend's garden. I like to serve this with seafood such as shrimp, lightly steamed in a light summer ale. But it's a very versatile dish and can easily stand on its own.



Country Style Greek Salad

Feeds 4, as a main meal, double that number as a side.


  • 1 large seedless cucumber (sometimes called an "English" cucumber), or two medium cucumbers, seeded
  • 1 pint of cherry tomatoes, halved
  • 1 half of a medium red onion, sliced thin and chopped into bite-sized pieces
  • 1 half each of a medium green and red bell pepper, cut into bite-sized pieces
  • 2/3 to 3/4 cup seedless Kalamata olives, sliced in half lengthwise (do not used canned olives)
  • 8 oz good quality feta cheese. Use the solid cake, not the pre-crumbled kind, and cut into roughly half inch cubes or slightly smaller
  • Basic Greek vinaigrette (recipe follows)
  • At least a 1/2 cup well-aged Romano cheese, shaved thin
  • Dill sprig (optional)

Preparation:


Zebra peel the cucumber then quarter it, lengthwise. Cut all four lengths into bite-sized pieces, approximately 1/2 inch long. Toss with the tomatoes, onion, green and red bell pepper, and olives. Gently fold in the feta cheese. A few minutes before serving, pour the vinaigrette over the salad and toss gently to incorporate. Toss half the Romano into the salad, and sprinkle the rest of the cheese over the top. Add the dill sprig if using. You should have about half of the vinaigrette leftover to serve at the table, in case your diners desire a little extra cheesy oomph with their salad.

Basic Greek Vinaigrette


Mix together 3/4 cup olive oil and 1 cup red wine vinegar. Add 1-1/2 teaspoons whole grain Dijon mustard, two tablespoons grated Romano cheese, the juice of a half lemon, 1 tablespoon dill weed, 1 garlic clove, mashed in a garlic press (use more if you like it stronger), and a half teaspoon each of basil and oregano. Add a half teaspoon each of salt and pepper and whisk quickly with a fork or in a cruet.

If you prefer a creamier style Greek dressing, lightly emulsify the oil and vinegar together, using an immersion blender, and adding the remaining ingredients one at a time while aerating.

It's best to finish this salad up by the second or, at most, the third day. Luckily, it has transformative powers: Add some chopped sun-dried tomatoes and spoon it into an Italian style hoagie smeared with garlic or red pepper aoli. Or, add it to leftover cold pasta with a little chopped ham or chicken. You could also mix it with a can of white cannelloni or chick peas, or serve it with tabouli and/or whole grain rice, combined with seasoned shredded beef on top of a crisped corn tortilla shell...the possibilities are endless, and I would love to hear what your imaginations come up with!