October 22, 2008
Green City Market
Sitting in a plastic chair near a Lincoln Park field bustling with morning shoppers, the Executive Director of the Green City Market grins sheepishly as he admits that he didn’t think he liked tomatoes or cantaloupe until he started this job last May.
Lyle Allen says that he was used to “those mealy, nasty things you buy at the supermarket.” When he refers to shopping at the Green City Market as a “life-changing experience,” he knows what he’s talking about. According to the Green City Market website, this market features produce that is fresh, local, organic or otherwise sustainably cultivated.
Allen is seated in a shady section of the park, just off Clark Street. Just a few yards behind him, the market is in full swing, visible through a scant line of trees. It’s one of those rare, gloriously warm and sunny Saturdays in October and people are out in droves with their families, dogs and, in at least one case, a harnessed housecat. Dozens of yellow jackets buzz around uncovered baked goods, apparently unaware of the nearby bustling crowds.
As it does every Wednesday and Saturday morning, the straw-covered mud of this section of Lincoln Park has sprouted a small city of tents selling everything from goat cheese to more than a dozen different kinds of apples to grass-fed beef. A small band plays at one end of the park.
Shoppers linger over the piled fruits and vegetables, talking to the farmers, chatting with neighbors or enjoying a fresh crêpe in the shade by a horseshoe pitching court. Almost everyone seems to be carrying at least one bag of produce or a bunch of fresh flowers. On the whole, it appears to be a fairly young crowd; lots of parents in their early- to mid-30s have brought their young children.
Allen says that the market has not yet instituted plans to gather demographic data from its patrons, but he likes what he sees. “People come here, they hang out for hours, they shop, they visit the farmers, listen to some music, they can have lunch,” he says. Market attendance has soared. Allen says that by this time last year 36,000 people had visited the market, proudly adding that so far 75,000 people have visited the market this year.
It’s so busy at the market that farmers begin to run out of popular products a few minutes after Allen goes back to work. There is no more fresh goat cheese to be had today. Fortunately, the market has several cheese vendors: Sharp aged cheddars and fresh sheep’s milk cheese with a variety of flavors like lavender and honey or pumpkin and spice are readily available. The crowded Brunkow Cheese of Wisconsin table is grilling crispy cubes of buttery Brun-uusto baked cheese, which holds its shape instead of melting.
It’s very clear just by looking around that this is a seasonal market, without anything that’s spent several days traveling cross-country from a California hothouse by truck. Pumpkins are everywhere. Though Allen says he bought one of the last watermelons of the year it’s hard to picture watermelon among all of the crisp fall apples and colorful squash. The market will move indoors in a few weeks, but the temperature is in the mid-70s and no one seems to think much about winter.
Beth Erickson, an architect in her 30s, proudly displays a Green City Market canvas tote bag. “I’m amazed by the colors when I come here…just the variety. I like talking to the farmers,” she says. Early fall is one of her favorite times to shop at the market, though she says spring is her other favorite “just because we’ve been waiting so long all through the winter. When it finally hits I’m here every weekend,” she says.
Allen is trying to expand outreach to young people in the neighborhood. The market now has a Facebook page with 500 friends, he says, and he has plans to create a junior board to invite the next generation of not-for-profit supporters to participate in the market.
For the time being, though, Allen has a tried and true method for outreach to potential new shoppers: “I encourage people—whether it’s my friends or family, sponsors or funders—that you really have to come visit the market to truly experience it. It’s unlike any other market in the city. There’s such a unique vibe and spirit about it. And sample the goods here, because once you do, you’ll never go back.”
September 21, 2008
Fifteen London: Food That Makes You Feel Good
I’ll be honest: when my mother told me that she had made us a reservation at Jamie Oliver’s Fifteen restaurant during a layover in London, I had very little idea what she was talking about. I did some research, however, and got pretty excited about it.
Fifteen is actually a job training program, designed to give youths marketable skills, as well as a restaurant. It’s a pretty nifty idea, and it seems to be working pretty well. There are now several Fifteen restaurants throughout the world.
The appointed day arrived and, after pushing our reservation back to account for Eurostar delays, we arrived at the trattoria. It is a very modern, noisy, engaging space. We were shown to a table and got down to business.
After chuckling about eating Italian food on the way home from a trip to Italy, we noticed that the house prosecco was from a town we had actually visited a few days before. Valdobbiadene is a beautiful area in the Veneto, and we were told that it makes the world’s finest prosecco. Unfortunately, the vineyard we visited produced fairly standard sparkling wine, though the views were stunning. (As a sidenote: I have since discovered that my favorite prosecco, Jeio, is also from Valdobbiadene.) Naturally, we had to order some prosecco after all of this. It was light, dry, very drinkable and generally excellent. While waiting for our food, our server arrived with a basket of bread and a clay cup, which was filled in very short order with excellent balsamic and olive oil.
And there you have it: some of the finest food we ate on our trip to Italy, in a small side street in London. In the foreground are some of the lightest, fluffiest and, as you may have noticed, largest gnocchi I have ever tasted. They are dressed with fresh tomatoes, mozzarella, and basil. Divine. You can also see my mother’s equally excellent vegetable risotto across the table.
So, in short, Fifteen London is worth a visit if you are in London. We made our reservation well in advance, and people were being turned away as we arrived. You can find more information about the Fifteen restaurants and the Fifteen training program at www.fifteen.net.
July 18, 2008
Where There’s A Will, There’s A Whey
I tried to make cheese again last night and IT WORKED!! The kit that I purchased from cheesemaking.com mentioned a powdered milk alternative for those who can’t find the right milk, and despite my initial misgivings, I crossed my fingers and threw just over five cups of milk powder into some water. This time, I had curds! I could cut them with a knife! They came together into a shiny ball, just as they were supposed to! I was so wrapped up in all of the excitement that I completely forgot to salt my cheese, but that was quickly remedied by melting the curds and kneading them again with some salt. (This process may have made the cheese a bit harder, but I don’t think I care at this point!)
So, folks, I can give the Cheese Queen’s 30-Minute Mozzarella Kit an official French Toast stamp of approval–and just in time for tomato season!
The kit I used, as well as cookbooks and all sorts of other goodies, can be purchased online at cheesemaking.com or through Amazon.com. One caveat: the recipe in the cookbook is different from the recipe in the kit. The latter recipe seemed to produce better cheese, in my unscientific tests.
I’d also like to take this opportunity to apologize for any physical or emotional pain inflicted by the title of this post.
July 13, 2008
Sour Milk: Curds, Whey, but No Cheese
Well, today was the grand mozzarella experiment. I had ordered a starter kit, and a cookbook, and had waited impatiently for both. My little 4-year-old cousin and I were all aflutter about making our own cheese. I finally tried it after he went to bed, which turned out to be merciful. In a word, it was a dismal failure.
I took great care to heat the milk just so, and add the various acids and rennet at just the right moment. I nearly panicked when I realized that the thermometer that my mother had cunningly hung from the cabinet above the stove was encased in curds that were colder than the rest of the pot. I did everything as I was supposed to, and the result was a blobby mass of white stuff that smelled…well…I suspect that humanity’s evolutionary knowledge bank includes “thou shalt not eat things that smell like failed cheese experiments.” My mother was kind enough to taste it, and politely said that it tasted like ricotta–not good ricotta, but ricotta. I just couldn’t bring myself to try it, for some reason.
Of course, once I had spilled both the proverbial and the not-so-proverbial milk, I just had to figure out why my cheesy hopes were so thoroughly disappointed. I used milk from a local dairy–Oberweis–that claims to be only pasteurized, not ultra-pasteurized. (High heat destroys the protein, and inhibits curd formation.) It turns out that Oberweis pasteurizes their milk at exactly 173º F, which happens to be just one degree below the temperature at which milk becomes useless for cheese. A little research could have spared me some aggravation, though I think most people would assume that milk that not only comes in glass bottles but tastes more, well, milk-like than any other milk out there would make superb cheese. Oh well.
At some point in the very near future, I will try again with, of all things, powdered milk, which is supposed to work very well. If that doesn’t work, I will explore other local dairy options. Much to my mother’s chagrin, I have enough supplies for 40 batches. So help me, I will make decent cheese!
July 11, 2008
Food Lesson #4,361: Ice Cream Must Contain a Fair Amount of Cream
A few days ago, my family went blueberry picking. The berries weren’t quite sweet yet, but we picked thirteen pounds nonetheless. Things got really interesting when wires were crossed and someone washed all thirteen pounds at once, thus touching off a frenzy of blueberry consumption. (Blueberries spoil very soon after they are washed.
We’ve made blueberry scottish scones (scrumptious), blueberry indian pudding (which refused to thicken until my mother added the oatmeal she tosses into almost everything), blueberry and apple crisps and turnovers and, of course, there’s been a fair amount of yogurt sprinkled with fresh blueberries. Last night, however, we reached a critical point: use the blueberries or throw them out.
I had been toying with the idea of bastardizing a great strawberry sorbet recipe I have, so I decided to just go for it. After an hour or so of sorting blueberries, I began to throw things into a bowl. I began with most of the blueberries that were still good, a handful of strawberries that were also teetering on the brink of spoilage, and a hefty dose of simple syrup. My mother suggested that I add salt and vanilla, both of which were great choices. Then we began to go a bit crazy. I couldn’t find the mascarpone left over from my gelato experiments, but we did have a few tablespoons of heavy cream. That went in the bowl, and was joined by a serious splash of half-and-half. I processed everything with a stick blender, tasted and tweaked, and then poured everything into the ice cream machine.
Today came the vital post-freezing serve-it-to-your-family taste test. On the plus side, my little cousin who dislikes both fruits and vegetables liked it. On the other hand, it was really a granita. I was very disappointed with the texture. I guess next time, I’ll have to add much more dairy. Live and learn, right? In any event, the great thing about experimenting with food is that inevitably you either eat or throw out the results–there’s rarely any enduring evidence.
I very much doubt that I will ruin my next experiment by skimping on the dairy. See, I’ve been reading Barbara Kingsolver’s “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle,” and she’s well on her way to making me move to Appalachia so I can grow and can my own tomatoes. My cheese-making kit arrived tonight, and I’ll probably try my hand at making mozzarella tomorrow. I’ll be starting with a gallon of Oberweis milk. If there’s not enough dairy in the cheese I’ll know that I have a very serious problem on my hands!
June 3, 2008
A Summer Classic: Drier’s Meat Market
I’m always happy when summer finally rolls around. Summer means more time in Michiana, and more time in Michiana means grilling, and grilling demands regular trips to Drier’s Meat Market in Three Oaks, Michigan.
Every time I decide that I “don’t like” something, Drier’s comes along and proves me wrong. I “didn’t like” bologna, until I tasted theirs. It’s really a summer sausage, and each ring we buy seems to somehow vanish in under a week. To accompany Drier’s bologna, one simply must eat Drier’s horseradish mustard, which to this day remains the only mustard I have ever really liked. (Regular readers of this blog are probably familiar with my anecdote about bringing a jar of mustard to live in France with me. That would be Drier’s mustard.) As a fairly young child, I was horrified to discover that my beloved bratwurst was made with veal, a meat that I detested (mostly on principle, as it turns out). And then there’s the smoked ham–like the mustard, really the only ham I’ve ever liked. Some might argue that I prefer these products because I grew up with them, which is partially true–but for the fact that in many cases my parents had to make me try something I thought I didn’t like.
Then, of course, there’s the tub cheese, creamy, salty, and an excellent contrast to the mellow sweetness of the Carr’s Whole Wheat crackers we keep on hand for just this purpose. And the roasted turkey breast that tastes like Thanksgiving all over again. And the unbelievably sharp New York Herkimer cheddar. Like a good, old-fashioned smokehouse, Drier’s even has dog bones. (I’m afraid that I can’t comment on these, as they are quite possibly the only Drier’s product I haven’t personally sampled.)
Drier’s is one of those places that seems like it’s been there forever. It’s a quaint little storefront with sawdust on the floor and an old-fashioned door that closes itself with a weight. Nothing smells quite like Drier’s–the sawdust, the smell of smoke, the vague hint of spices. This is all well and good, but what keeps my family coming back for close to 20 years now is the meat. When it comes down to it, Drier’s is just a small, family-run shop that takes pride in the quality of its food–and the cult of loyal Drier’s customers proves that pride is entirely justified.
Drier’s Meat Market is located in Three Oaks, Michigan, about an hour and a half from Chicago. It is closed from January 1 until 2 weeks before Easter. During the summer, it is open 7 days a week: Monday-Saturday 9 a.m.-5 p.m. and Sunday 11 a.m. to 5 p.m. More information is available at Driers.com or by phone at 888.521.3999. In my opinion, no trip to Drier’s is complete without picking up some aged steaks (must be ordered in advance at 269.426.3224) at nearby Falatic’s Meat Market in Sawyer, Michigan–but that, as they say, is another story.
April 7, 2008
Grilling in a Galley Kitchen
Spring is finally beginning to, well, spring here in lovely Chicago, and as the weather warms up, I find myself thinking of summer-y food! Of course, there’s ice cream, and cold tea (mugicha!), and berries and fresh veggies…and, of course, anything grilled!
In my family, we grill at least a few times a week during the summer. The grills in my building are ready to go. By dinnertime, though, I don’t want to spend time cooking outside. No matter–tonight I came up with a solution.
I’ve been taking cooking classes for the last few weeks. It’s been a blast! I’ve learned so much about so many things. In my last class, we used a grill pan to cook prosciutto-wrapped scallops on a stove.
They were delicious, as has been the case with most everything I’ve made in classes, but that’s another post.
Long story short: tonight, in a desperate bid for a quick dinner for a friend, I realized that the griddle that I’ve had for the last year has a grill on the back. After the requisite face-palm, I ran over to my friendly neighborhood butcher and bought some of their wonderful Mediterranean turkey burgers. While I was at it, I grabbed some asparagus and a bag of sweet potato fries. A one-pot dinner is all well and good, but doing everything on a grill pan is even better!
When I got home, the fries went into the oven while I heated the grill pan, turned on my exhaust fan, and opened some windows. The asparagus and burgers went on the stove and 20 minutes later…voilà! A lovely grilled dinner, cooked in a tiny, indoor kitchen on a somewhat chilly evening that smelled faintly of summer.
March 8, 2008
Tarte aux Poivrons
Among the many powers food wields over us is control of our memories. Some foods can instantly bring the past alive, such as the madeleine that whisked Marcel Proust back to his childhood. I had one such experience this week with a tart–not a woman of questionable reputation, the kind with a crust.
While I was in Aix, I came to like many foods that I had previously chosen not to eat. For instance, I never really liked the flavor of cooked bell peppers. They are slightly bitter, and have a disagreeably slimy texture. When Anne brought a pepper tart to the dinner table one evening, I resigned myself to politely eat something I found distasteful. Fortunately for me, Anne’s cooking was generally magical, and this meal was no exception. I loved that tart–it turns out that goat cheese and tapenade harmonize very well with peppers. She made it several times that year and I looked forward to tarte aux poivrons days. When I left, it was at the top of my list of recipes to get from her. Anne’s tart still the only vehicle for cooked peppers that I really like.
I had a friend over for dinner this week, and I decided to make a tarte aux poivrons. Anne used a pre-made pâte sablée crust from Monoprix. (Monoprix is roughly equivalent to Target: it sells everything from food to yarn to accessories. Pâte sablée is basically a savory pie crust, and pre-made savory pie crusts are almost impossible to find in the United States.) I opted to use phyllo dough instead.
The tart was everything I remembered. It’s so quintessentially French: three simple ingredients complement one another to form a rich, creamy flavor that is altogether unique. Baking the tart upside-down kept the phyllo dough flaky; a crispy crust is an excellent counterpart to all of that goat cheese! A green salad with a Dijon caper vinaigrette rounded out a perfectly French dinner.
I dreamed about my reluctance to leave Aix for the next 3 nights.
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Tarte aux Poivrons, adapted from Anne David
serves: 4-6
1 box frozen phyllo dough (recipe uses 1/2 of 1 roll)
5 fresh green, red or yellow peppers
200 grams fresh goat cheese
4 ounces black olive purée (I used Alessi)
1. Roast, peel, and slice the peppers. There are two good ways to do roast peppers:
a. If you have a gas stove, light a medium flame. Place the peppers directly onto the burner, rotating until evenly charred. Place into a bowl and cover tightly with plastic wrap. The peppers will steam a bit as they cool, and the skins will come right off.
b. Roast the peppers for an hour at 350º. Plunge them into very cold water, so that the skins come off more easily.
2. Line a 10-15 inch tart pan with parchment. Preheat oven to 350º.
3. Arrange the pepper slices decoratively on the parchment.
4. Place dollops of goat cheese on the peppers. Aim for a relatively even cheese distribution–it doesn’t have to be perfect.
5. Spread tapenade over cheese and peppers.
6. Open phyllo dough, keeping excess covered as much as possible while you work with it. Place one sheet over tart, folding extra dough into the pan. Cover with a light layer of olive oil (I use a Misto sprayer, but a pastry brush would work as well). Place the next sheet perpendicular to the first and continue in this fashion until you’ve built up a decent crust, or until half of the roll of phyllo dough has been used.
7. Bake until crust is golden brown, about 25 minutes. Invert onto a platter and enjoy.
February 23, 2008
The Yeast of My Worries
I’ve always been something of a recipe masochist. I just love a good, complicated food project. I don’t think I’ve ever dismissed a recipe as too difficult, though I do occasionally realize that I lack equipment and should postpone a cooking session. I always learn something during such experiments, even if the recipes fail catastrophically. I frequently make excuses to cook lavishly: a dinner party “demands” a sausage and basil lasagna, for instance. I’ve been known to create a party around a new dessert recipe or another food idea. When I turned 17, I invited my friends over to make mezza luna ravioli. A few years later, we spent New Year’s Eve making a variety of homemade dim sum. A few years after that, my friends informed that that I was incapable of making dinner; they claimed that instead I always made experiences.
Given that history, it should come as no surprise that I decided to make homemade cinnamon buns for brunch today. I will be taking a bread class in the next few weeks, so I figured this would be a good indicator of my pre-instruction bread skills. I got up early, to give the dough time to rest and rise. I tried my hand at kneading, and scoured my apartment for warm spots (this process is much easier when one has cats to serve as furry, heat-seeking missiles). I was making a frittata at the same time, so it came as something of a surprise to me when I finally opened the oven to reveal something that resembled pressed roses.
Apparently, my dough didn’t rise.
The good news is that, as my guest so rightly pointed out, dough with cinnamon filling will never taste bad. We scooped up the excess filling and drizzled it over the flat buns. I ended up making a very elaborate but tasty cookie.
The lesson here: good food is made with good ingredients. Flat food is made with expired yeast.
