Susie Middleton2013-05-26T00:39:10-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/author/index.php?author=susie-middletonCopyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc.HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Susie MiddletonGood old fashioned elbow grease.Eating Locally, Slowly But Surelytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.12704002012-02-13T18:53:19-05:002012-04-14T05:12:01-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/
It's funny when I think about it now, because coming from the on-demand, fast-paced arena of my old life, I thought I could transform myself into a model sustainable eater overnight when I moved to Martha's Vineyard. I was used to getting things done quickly so I threw myself into my new quest. I drove around and found the farms that sold fresh eggs (and the two or three with freezers full of bacon and pork chops and ground beef); I followed friends to their secret watercress steams and plucked mussels off of rocks in hidden coves. I watched a neighbor milk her goats, and another make cheese. I participated in Eat Local weeks and Living Local festivals, don't you know! I planted a little vegetable garden as soon as I could.
But still I was mostly dependent on the grocery store. (And, unfortunately, very dependent during the times I was developing recipes for two cookbooks, since I needed to work with standard products that would be the same for everyone across the country.) But I kept moving in a good direction.
First I joined a CSA, then I found a way to grow more of my own vegetables, and then I moved to a house where I could truly grow (and even sell!) a lot of vegetables -- and keep laying hens, too. I started learning to put things by, and to keep greens growing through the winter. This fall, I successfully cured and stored our huge crop of onions (we still have some!). I froze excess green beans and corn kernels and roasted tomatoes. I dug up our rutabagas and turnips in December and wrapped them carefully to keep in the fridge for months. We've got dried cranberry beans in the pantry, dried coriander seeds on the spice shelf, our own eggs in the fridge, and arugula in the garden. Somehow, the lip-service I've always paid to "cooking seasonally" has become a reality; there are no asparagus or strawberries in my winter fridge (just a few wild raspberries in the freezer), making the anticipation and satisfaction of spring eating all the greater.
While I was stumbling along my path of discovery, good things were happening all around me -- things I benefited from just as a bystander. A hardworking group of concerned citizens formed Island Grown Initiative and Island Grown Schools and brought local chicken to all of us (through a Mobile Poultry Processor) and local farm veggies and school gardens to kids across the Island. A new dairy started up, and another began selling delicious yogurt and feta cheese. Our Farmer's Market organizers got together to extend the season and host an indoor Winter Market. Slow Food planned "Meet Your Farmer" potlucks. A gleaning group formed and collected vegetables from generous farms to deliver to elderly housing, the jail, and the Island Food Pantry. You couldn't help but become more aware of locally grown food if you were just a tiny bit open to hearing about it.
Good things take time, I've finally learned. (Patience is new to me.) Looking back now, I realize that the road to eating locally and sustainably is a slow, deliberate one -- something you grow into, rather than rush into. It's hard for all of us quick-fixers to realize that if we want to change (or want the world to change), we must take a lot of baby steps, rather than flipping a switch. But I'm optimistic, especially today, because I just watched this video that will air on national television during the Grammy Awards tomorrow night.
If you haven't seen Chipotle Mexican Grill's animated short ad ("Back to the Start"), you will truly be moved by the way the video captures (ironically, in two minutes) the lurching and inelegant transition we made in this country from small farms to factory farming, and now back (we hope) to a way of raising animals and growing food that is at least a bit more sustainable than feedlots and manure lagoons. I know that's a big Hope, and that things sometimes seem to be moving in slow motion. But if a company as big as Chipotle can source and promote sustainable food and animal welfare -- and spread the message to a huge national television audience -- then I'm thinking anything is possible. Certainly I've seen what a small community like the one I live in can do in just a few years time. And while I'm not quite as far along as I'd like to be (I'm taking a canning class next!), I've found that plodding can be pretty good for the soul -- and the stomach.
Susie Middleton is the author of The Fresh & Green Table (Chronicle Books, 2012) and Fast, Fresh & Green (Chronicle Books 2010). She blogs about cooking and growing vegetables at sixburnersue.com.
]]>Problem-Solving Veggie Side Dish Recipes for Thanksgivingtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.11081492011-11-23T10:42:12-05:002012-01-23T05:12:01-05:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/Problem: The oven is full. The turkey's in there, maybe a pan of stuffing, too. But wait, you've got a second oven! Only you still have to bake the pie -- and the lasagna you always offer along with the turkey. So, um, where will the vegetables go?
Here are three solutions, no matter how many ovens you have. I've used them all over the years, much to my relief.
First: Quick-roast the veggies when the turkey comes out of the oven. (The turkey needs time to rest before carving, any way.) Crank up the heat to 450° or 475°, toss the cut veggies in olive oil and salt, and roast on sheet pans until tender and brown -- only about 20 minutes for most veggies. Make a quick dressing or pan sauce on the stovetop and dress the warm veg with it. Easy. You can do this with all kinds of veggies, including green beans, broccoli, cauliflower, and sweet potatoes. But I especially love these three recipes for Roasted Brussels Sprouts with Orange Butter Sauce, Vanilla and Cardamom Glazed Acorn Squash Rings, and Roasted Turnips and Pears with Rosemary-Honey Drizzle. (While I originally developed these for my cookbook Fast, Fresh & Green, I'm linking you to the versions on The Martha Stewart Show site because I doubled them here to serve more people for the holiday. Plus, as it happens, the segment I did last year demonstrating these dishes will re-air on Thanksgiving day if you are so inclined to flip the TV channel from the parade!)
Second: Take advantage of the stovetop. You can make a good amount of glazed carrots in a 12-inch nonstick skillet. Green beans are lovely if you boil them just until they lose their toothiness (about 4 or 5 minutes) and dress with warm brown butter and nuts or a warm vinaigrette. (Check out my Pomegranate-Balsamic Glazed Carrots and Green Beans with Crispy Pancetta, Mushrooms, and Shallots on finecooking.com) Tender cooking greens like spinach and Swiss chard (as well as baby kale leaves and finely slivered tougher kale and collards) need only a swipe through a hot pan rimmed with garlic-infused oil to be an ultra-quick last minute side. Give them a splash of vinegar and a quick grating of a good hard cheese to finish. Or dress them up a bit, like in my Tuscan Kale with Blood Oranges (you'd need to double that recipe for the holiday). But perhaps my favorite stovetop time saver is this tip: Make mashed potatoes (like these Mashed Yukon Gold Potatoes with Roasted Garlic on sixburnersue.com) an hour or two ahead of dinner and hold them, covered, over a simmering pot of water; they'll stay warm and creamy.
Third: Reheat. Heresy, I know. But sometimes you have to be heretical to survive on Thanksgiving. (Come to think of it, you'd be downright crazy if you didn't try to make at least some things ahead.) Some of my favorite Thanksgiving dishes are gratins and casseroles like this Gratin of Butternut Squash, Corn & Leeks and this Bourbon Sweet Potato and Apple Casserole with a Pecan Crust. While gratins and casseroles may suffer a bit in texture when reheated, they will actually taste even better; just be gentle and use a 350° oven for no more than about 20 to 25 minutes so they don't dry out. (Again, an open window of time while the turkey rests.) If the topping doesn't need to be crisp, reheat loosely covered, or drizzle on a little extra broth for moistening before reheating. Even better, pick a dish that's tailor-made for reheating, like this delicious sounding Mashed Potato and Rutabaga Gratin I spotted in the latest issue of Fine Cooking magazine from cookbook author Molly Stevens. Nothing heretical about that!
Susie Middleton is the author of Fast, Fresh & Green (Chronicle Books 2010) and The Fresh & Green Table (Chronicle Books, 2012). She blogs about cooking and growing vegetables on her website www.sixburnersue.com. She is the former editor and current editor-at-large for Fine Cooking magazine.
]]>Keeping It Simple: Three-Ingredient Veggie Dishestag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.8635532011-05-19T14:23:39-04:002011-07-19T05:12:01-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/
I've been thinking a lot about simplicity lately. The simpler my life gets, the happier I am. I've had to bang my head around a good deal to get this message through my thick skull, and it hasn't been pretty. But now that I've arrived safely in the land of Simple, I feel like I should pass on some tips. Especially cooking tips.
Sometimes I feel like a wretched vacuum cleaner salesman, the way I go on about how easy it is to cook vegetables, how delicious they are... how everyone should just cook more at home and we'd all be healthier! Skinnier! Happier! Just follow this recipe! Read my blog! Buy my book! It's easy, delicious, quick. For Pete's sake, who invented this character called a Food Writer?
What if we just stripped out all the hype and zeroed in on the practical stuff: What can I cook on a Tuesday night that everyone will like... that doesn't require a culinary diploma... and that doesn't involve an emergency run to the specialty grocer?
To answer that question, I thought it would be great to come up with a dozen suggestions that don't use any more than three or four ingredients (not including salt and some kind of cooking fat -- olive oil, usually). We're talking veggies here, since that is, honestly, my specialty -- no false advertising, I promise. I'll admit, I did adapt some of these ideas from a cookbook of mine, but it seemed like a good place to start. Here goes:
1. Sweet Potato Fries: Cut unpeeled sweet potatoes into short skinny sticks, toss thoroughly with olive oil and salt, spread in one layer on a lined baking sheet, roast at 450 degrees until lightly browned all over. Sprinkle with more salt and serve with a squeeze of lime and/or sour cream.
2. Sautéed Sugar Snap Peas and Salami. Cut a couple slices of deli salami into thin strips. Heat a little olive oil in a big nonstick skillet over medium-high heat. Add a few generous handfuls of sugar snap peas and cook, stirring constantly, just until they begin to blister and turn brown. Add the salami strips and continue cooking until the salami is mostly crisp and browned, another few minutes. Remove from heat and serve right away, tossed with fresh mint if you like.
3. Avocado, Bibb and Lime Salad. Cut a ripe (pitted and peeled) avocado into small chunks, toss with olive oil, lime juice, salt, and, if you like, some chopped tender fresh herbs (anything you've got on hand, like chives, mint, basil or cilantro). Pile into individual leaves of Bibb lettuce.
4. Stir-Fried Baby Bok Choy. Cut a couple little heads of baby bok choy lengthwise into quarters and wash well. Heat a few teaspoons of peanut oil or canola oil in a stir-fry pan, or wok over medium-high heat. Add one clove of thinly sliced garlic and the bok choy. Cook, stirring or flipping constantly (kitchen tongs are handy here) until the bok choy is well-browned and tender.
5. Grilled Asparagus with Lemon Butter. Heat a gas grill to medium-high. Toss trimmed asparagus spears with olive oil and salt to coat. Put directly on grill grates and cook 2 minutes per side, just until grill marks appear. Off the grill, drizzle the asparagus with a little melted butter mixed with 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated lemon zest.
6. Grilled Portobello & Arugula Salad. Remove stems from mushrooms, scrape out gills with a spoon, drizzle with olive oil and balsamic vinegar. Heat gas-grill to medium and cook mushroom caps, stem side up, until liquid pools in caps and the underside is well-browned. Flip and grill for a just a couple minutes more. Arrange arugula on plates. Slice mushroom caps and arrange over arugula. Drizzle with additional balsamic and olive oil (or your favorite salad dressing). A smattering of crumbled blue cheese or a few halved tiny tomatoes would be nice with this, too.
7. Roasted Fingerlings with Watercress. Slice fingerling potatoes cross-wise into 1/2-inch coins. Toss with olive oil and salt, spread in one layer on a baking sheet, and roast at 450 degrees for about 20 minutes, until lightly browned underneath and tender. Mound on a bed of watercress, make a quick dressing from lemon and olive oil (and a bit of Dijon if you like), and drizzle over all.
8. Caramelized Carrots with Fresh Ginger. In a skillet or sauté pan that has a lid, heat a little butter and olive oil together over medium heat. To the pan, add a half-pound of carrots, peeled and cut into short, thin sticks. Season with salt, cover and cook slowly, stirring often, until the carrots are golden and tender, about 12 to 15 minutes. Add a teaspoon of minced fresh ginger to the pan, along with a teaspoon of cold butter, and stir and cook for a few seconds until the ginger is fragrant and the butter is creamy. Serve with chopped fresh mint or cilantro, if you like.
9. Tomato and Peach Salad. Cut small cherry tomatoes in half or beefsteak tomatoes into 1-inch chunks and put in a mixing bowl. Add one or two peaches, peeled and cut into small chunks. Toss with a little bit of orange juice, sherry vinegar, and olive oil. Add slivered red onions and torn basil or mint leaves, if you like. Serve right away.
10. Crunchy Limey Slaw. Toss about 2 cups shredded Savoy cabbage with a few teaspoons of fresh lime juice, a couple teaspoons of sugar, and a half-teaspoon of salt. Add chopped fresh cilantro and sliced scallions, if you like. Let sit and toss occasionally until just barely wilted, about 20 minutes.
11. Toasted Fresh Corn with Scallion Cream. Cut the kernels off of three or four ears of corn. Heat a little butter and olive oil in a large skillet over medium heat and add the corn and a little salt. Cook, stirring frequently, until the corn is just lightly browned (or "toasted"). (Any more and it will start popping out of the pan.) Add a tablespoon or two of very thinly sliced scallions and cook until slightly softened. Add a tablespoon of cream and lots of fresh pepper, stir and remove from pan.
12. Roasted Broccoli with Dipping Sauce. Cut two small crowns of broccoli into small florets and toss with olive oil and salt. Spread in one layer on a lined sheet pan and roast for 12 to 15 minutes at 450 degrees -- just until crisp around the edges and brown on the bottom. Make a quick dipping sauce of soy sauce, brown sugar and chopped fresh ginger. (A bit of lemon or lime juice and sliced scallions are optional). Eat the florets with your fingers, dipped in the sauce.
Susie Middleton lives, cooks, and grows vegetables on Martha's Vineyard. She is the author of Fast, Fresh & Green (Chronicle Books, 2010) and Fresh & Green for Dinner (Chronicle Books, 2012). She blogs about vegetables and life on a farm-ette on www.sixburnersue.com.
]]>Eating Less is Good, But How About Eating (and Cooking) at Home?tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2011:/theblog//3.8174882011-02-02T16:00:47-05:002011-05-25T18:30:24-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/vegetable cookbooks, I am certainly happy about at least one aspect of the government's new dietary guidelines: the recommendation that we fill half our plates with vegetables. And in general, I applaud the straightforward advice to "Eat Less" and move more. But something has been bothering me, and I realized what it was this morning as I was reading some of the documents associated with the new guidelines. Nowhere in the guidelines' takeaway points for consumers do I see the suggestion to "cook your own food." The guidelines, in fact, are too cryptic about this one fact: Bad fats, excess sodium, and refined sugars are the darlings of processed food and fast food, not home cooking.
As a cook, this worries me for a few reasons. First, I'm afraid that for the average consumer, the guidelines (though I realize their principal use is for food-service professionals) will be confusing. It's hard to get a quick grasp on some of the suggestions. As Marion Nestle points out, the guidelines "steer clear of actually naming bad-for-you foods, which would be helpful for today's busy consumer, and they use too many euphemisms."
And I am even more worried about the misunderstanding that can result from just getting the sound bites: Less salt! Less fat! I don't want people to think they need to cook with less flavor. Because if people are going to eat better, they're going to have to stop eating out so much -- or grabbing food on the run -- and start eating more food at home, which means cooking for themselves. And cooking good food involves seasoning judiciously with a little salt to bring out the best flavors; it involves cooking with good fats like olive oil, not only to keep vegetables and other foods moist and flavorful and to bring out their best flavor, but also to help access their nutrients.
The simple truth is that there's no way the processed food and restaurant industries can react quickly enough and effectively enough to single-handedly reduce obesity through less fat and salt in their products and by decreasing portion size. I surely wish they would or could, but I don't have a lot of confidence in the speed with which this can happen. Any major shift in our eating habits in this country (and a reduction in the enormous costs associated with poor diets) is going to involve a return to more home cooking, which, by its very nature, emphasizes whole foods, balance, and smaller portions.
Eating better means developing a repertoire of tasty home-cooked dishes (and snacks)--and infusing our home cooking with some of the fun flavors and textures we get from take-out food. I'd love to see more ideas circulated, not just in USDA documents, for replacing store-bought or take-out food with good home cooking. (I've included some thought-starters below.) And on the next round of guideline development, I'd love to see the USDA pair a few cooks with the nutritionists and scientists. Maybe then the guidelines could include more concrete suggestions for ways to implement the ideas in your own kitchen at home, and could more overtly promote home cooking. (There is some acknowledgment in the full document for the need for better cooking skills.) But I'd love even a shift in the repetitive use of the direction to "choose" this or that type of food. How about "cook" this or that type of food, instead. "Eat less," is good. "Eat (and cook) at home," is better.
Replace take-out French Fries with Home-Cooked Oven Fries. Cut unpeeled Yukon Gold potatoes into sticks, toss with olive oil and a little salt, roast at 450° for 25 minutes until golden brown. Try with parsnips and sweet potatoes for yummy root fries, too.
Replace Bottled Salad Dressing with Homemade Vinaigrette. Make an easy vinaigrette with 3 parts olive oil, 1 part wine vinegar, a pinch of salt, a few grinds of pepper, a smidge of garlic, and a dab of mustard. Eat salad every night!
Replace Frosted Deli Cupcakes or Snack Cakes with Berries, Greek Yogurt & Honey Parfait. Make the easiest dessert or whole-foods snack ever by layering raspberries or blueberries with Greek yogurt, a drizzle of honey, and a scattering of granola or toasted oats. Assemble ahead and take to work, too.
Replace Take-Out Chinese with Stir Fry at Home. Buy a stir-fry pan, chop lots of veggies and a small amount of meat or tofu in little pieces, get oil hot, stir-fry, add fresh ginger, garlic, and soy sauce. Delicious in 15 minutes. Serve on whole wheat noodles instead of white rice.
Turn No Vegetables into Lots of Vegetables. Roast veggies every night: Cut a combo of carrots, sweet potatoes, butternut squash, turnips, etc. into small dice, toss with a little olive oil and salt and roast at 450° 'til golden and tender. Add greens by wilting baby spinach or very thinly sliced collards or kale in a skillet with a little chopped garlic, red pepper flakes and olive oil. Or use the stir-fry pan to make the quickest ever broccoli, mushroom and bell pepper stir-fry.
Susie Middleton is the author of Fast, Fresh & Green: More than 90 Delicious Recipes for Vegetable Lovers (Chronicle Books, 2010). Her next cookbook is a collection of vegetable main dishes, to be published by Chronicle Books in 2012. Susie blogs weekly about veggies at Sixburnersue.com.
]]>Call Me a Vegivore, Call me Whatever, Just Cook Something, Please! (Recipe Included)tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.7856412010-11-18T16:25:23-05:002011-05-25T18:15:22-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/Americans are eating less vegetables than ever. (And I was particularly annoyed that I had to find this out from my very favorite New York Times reporter, Kim Severson. I hate when nice people deliver bad news.) The next minute I feel a strange squirminess, when I read that Vegetables are the Trend of the Minute in New York. (Should I be happy or worried about this?) This news was also delivered to me via a favorite reporter, Tom Philpott, of Grist.org, who cited an article in New York magazine about the new "vegivore" (someone who loves vegetables, rather than someone who hates meat.)
Philpott points out that this "trend" (to cook and eat vegetables as a main event, but not necessarily sans meat on the plate) has actually been building among cooks and eaters for many years, and he cites the enthusiastic carnivores who began heartily embracing the likes of Deborah Madison's Vegetarian Cooking for Everyonein the late1990s. He fast forwards to the present, kindly mentioning that Susie Middleton's cookbookFast, Fresh & Green (a collection of 90+ vegetable recipes organized by cooking technique) is a worthy contemporary successor to Madison's works. I bring this up, not only because I am always happy to be mentioned in the same breath as Deborah Madison, but also because Philpott can articulate what I struggle with. "If ideas championed by the likes of Madison and Middleton are suddenly the foodie trend of the moment in New York, I hope the trend has legs and staying power."
Me too! Me too! But the creeping-doubt-syndrome returns when I think about the quotes from people in Severson's article who think vegetables are "a pain," "intimidating," and "a lot less fun" than some other foods. I understand these sentiments to a certain extent, as I feel like you a) have to enjoy spending a little bit of time in the kitchen and b) have some basic cooking skills--in order to prepare tasty vegetables. Even though I offer 9 different ways to cook vegetables in my book (with lots of tips and instructions and easy flavor-boosters), I do say at the get-go that this is a cookbook, and you will actually be cooking, not assembling. But the payoff is huge, I go on to say.
It all comes down to flavor. I think the authors of the New York magazine article hit on one major reason for the popularity of vegetables in New York--people are beginning to realize that vegetables taste good (thanks to some good cooks and chefs who are preparing them well). For me, flavor is a huge motivation - for eating or cooking. (Well, isn't it for everyone?) I love things that taste good, and once I started caramelizing onions, roasting tomatoes, and browning my broccoli, I started to eat more vegetables. I love high-heat cooking methods (especially roasting and sautéing, but grilling and stir-frying, too), because they bring out the sweeter side of veggies.
My theory on this whole "why aren't Americans eating more vegetables" conundrum is that many folks have not eaten enough really tasty vegetables or they're at a loss on how to prepare them. (When I'm out demo-ing, I hear from a lot of people who tell me they're stuck in a vegetable rut, either because they're not sure how to cook veggies more than one way, or they're afraid family members won't eat the veggies if they try something different.) Since I'm not a vegetarian or a nutritionist or a specialist in any kind of diet, I come at this conundrum mostly from a cook's point of view.
To me, the solution boils down to encouraging folks to get in the kitchen and mess around a little with vegetables. To that end, I offer a good place to start (see below), because, after all, I can write ad nauseam about this stuff, but the truth lies in the cooking, or more accurately, the recipe: If the ingredient list is short, the directions are easy to follow, and the results turn out to be tasty, maybe you (or I or someone who doesn't think he likes veggies) will make this again, because it's kind of a kick and pretty darn delicious.
So whether you're looking to get friendly with vegetables or looking for an easy and delicious Thanksgiving side dish, the recipe below for Vanilla Cardamom Maple Glazed Acorn Squash Rings could be your ticket. And if you already love to cook, pass this on to someone who's tentative.
P.S. You can see me demo this and other quick-roasting recipes from Fast, Fresh & Green, on The Martha Stewart Show Wednesday, Nov. 24 at 10 a.m. on the Hallmark Channel.
Vanilla and Cardamom Glazed Acorn Squash Rings
The buttery glaze that tops these delicious squash rings is more subtly flavored than it sounds. But it adds just the right amount of sweetness and interest to the earthy flavor and silky texture of roasted acorn squash. You might think a cumbersome vegetable like an acorn squash might take a long time to cook, but it's easy to quick-roast it by cutting it into pretty rings or half-rings (as I do here). Because of the relatively thin slices, I find the skin perfectly edible, but it's also easy enough to eat the flesh and leave the roasted skin behind (just pick a slice up and nibble it!). These are perfect for Thanksgiving, too, as you can pop the sheet pan into the oven when the turkey comes out to rest. (They take less than 25 minutes to cook.) And with a second baking sheet, you can easily double or triple the recipe. Rotate the baking sheets halfway through cooking.
1 small acorn squash, (1 to 1 1/4 lb.)
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, plus 2 more teaspoons if needed
2 teaspoons pure maple syrup
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon ground cardamom
kosher salt
Preheat the oven to 475˚F. Line a large heavy-duty rimmed sheet pan with a piece of parchment paper.
With a sharp chef's knife, cut the acorn squash in half lengthwise (through both the stem end and the pointy end). Scrape out the seeds and fibers with a spoon. Put each half, cut side down, on a cutting board. Slice off about 3/4 inch from each end and discard. Slice the squash crosswise into 1/2-inch thick half-rings. If you want, you can trim away any remaining fibers from the rings by running a paring knife around the inside of each. Put the half-rings on the parchment paper.
In a small saucepan, melt the 2 tablespoons butter over low heat. Remove the pan from the heat and add the maple syrup, vanilla, and cardamom. Stir well. Use a pastry brush to lightly brush the squash pieces with a little less than half of the mixture. Season the pieces very lightly with salt and turn them over. Brush this side with more of the mixture, but reserve about 1 tablespoon for brushing on after cooking. (If using a larger squash and you wind up with a little bit less than 1 tablespoon of liquid, add 1 or 2 teaspoons more butter to the saucepan.) Season the tops very lightly with salt.
Roast the squash for 12 minutes. Use tongs to flip the pieces over. Continue to roast until they are nicely browned (the bottoms will be browner then the tops) and tender when pierced with a paring knife, 10 to 12 minutes more.
Flip the pieces over again when they come out of the oven so that the browner side is up.
Reheat the butter mixture briefly over low heat if necessary (or to melt the additional butter). Brush the butter mixture over the squash slices and serve.
Serves 3
Note: If you want to cut whole squash rings (a little trickier) rather than halves, trim away about 3/4 inch from both ends of the squash first and carefully slice it crosswise into 1/2-inch rings. Run a paring knife around the inside of the rings to remove excess fibers and seeds.
This recipe is from Fast, Fresh & Green: More than 90 Delicious Recipes for Veggie Lovers, by Susie Middleton, published by Chronicle Books, 2010. Susie blogs about vegetables on her website, sixburnersue.com, and is currently at work on her second cookbook, Fresh & Green for Dinner, a collection of vegetable-centered main dishes to be published by Chronicle Books in Spring, 2012.
]]>Farm Stand Economics: From a First-Time, Micro-Grower's Point of Viewtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.6736792010-08-06T14:38:06-04:002011-05-25T17:15:21-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/Fast, Fresh & Green -- a collection of vegetable side dishes -- just went into its third printing!). But with weeding, watering, harvesting, cleaning, stocking the farm stand, re-seeding beds, and chasing after various pests in the garden, it's not really a 25- or 30-percent time suck. More like 50%. It's hard work, and it's tiring. But here's the thing: I love it.
Since this is National Farmers' Market Week, I thought I'd share a little of my first-time growers' experience. I just read that farmers' markets, farm stands, and U-pick operations still (despite a big leap this year) only account for .4 percent of the food economy, so I'm happy to be doing my part (.000001 percent, maybe?) to make local food more available. Better still, I now know what I suspected all along -- that folks who get into small-scale growing are not in it for the money, but for the pleasure of working outdoors and growing their own food -- and a little extra for neighbors, too.
Our plot (I talked my boyfriend into being co-conspirator in this plan) is teeny-tiny by any serious growing standards. It's not even half an acre. But it is large by backyard garden standards (we have 20 75-square-foot beds, and a lot of mulched pathways), so it yields significantly more than our 2.5 person household could eat, especially since we turn the beds over regularly as crops expire. We just replaced the fading peas with basil seedlings; just sowed another crop of bush beans; and we're even trying a second crop of potatoes. Our autumn weather is mild here on Martha's Vineyard, so we'll see what happens. At any rate, the goal is to produce as much as possible to sell at the farm stand.
The garden is actually on the grounds of a working farm, Native Earth Teaching Farm, which has an existing farm stand building right off the road. (Though we are in a fairly remote part of the Island.) The farmer, Rebecca Gilbert, rents small community gardens to Island folks, and kindly agreed to share a bigger plot with us in exchange for a small fee, some labor, and a percentage of whatever we'd sell at the stand. We got an existing garden (complete with deer fence) and water supply -- and a great spot next to the baby goats!
From the outset, my modest goal (or so I thought) was to recoup my initial investment of about $1600. I don't think I'm going to get there, despite an early boost from a $400 grant from the Martha's Vineyard Agricultural Society. Our start-up expenses included growing lights, soil, and plastic trays for starting seedlings indoors this winter; drip hoses, agricultural fabric (row cover) to keep flea beetles off of cruciferious veggies, compost, and hay mulch for the garden; plastic bags and berry boxes for the farm stand; the garden fee; a little bit of lumber for various structures, including a cold frame; and a few tools. We tried to use found materials whenever possible -- all of our trellises are made from bamboo harvested from a friend's property on the Island, we collected seaweed for mulching the lettuces, and we raked (more) hay (who knew so much mulch was needed to keep the weeds down?) from a friend's field. We bought many of our garden tools at yard sales, and we rebuilt a junky old cart that was headed for the dump. But still, little stuff adds up.
Selling at the farm stand has been a trial-and-error sort of thing. I discovered that people like buying lettuce and other salad greens washed and bagged (out of a cooler) better than buying whole heads of pretty lettuce standing fresh in a bowl of water. (I also discovered that arugula is still VERY popular). So I have spent a lot of time picking greens, taking them home and washing and drying them (I had to buy an extra salad-spinner), and cooling them in the fridge. I kept prices pretty low with these spring and summer greens, as I wanted to encourage repeat customers.
As the summer went on, we realized that in our attempt to experiment with a lot of different vegetables, we hadn't planted enough of some easy sellers. Our Red Gold and French Fingerling potatoes were winners, and at $4 and $5 a pound, good money makers. But they're all gone now. My big bunches of fresh baby carrots and pints of shell peas were hits with the young moms and toddlers who were our biggest traffic early on. (They come to see the animals). I could have sold more if I'd had them, for sure.
And then there have been those low-traffic days when we've hardly had a customer--despite a big blackboard sign we made for the road. During these times, I wished I'd had a better marketing plan, or had gone ahead and plunked down the $400 (plus cost of tent) for a booth at one of the smaller farmers' markets for the summer. But in the blink of an eye, traffic would pick back up at the stand, and I would realize that we really weren't growing enough for a farmers' market. (Which of course, would have been an even bigger time commitment, too, and a bigger risk of over-harvesting without selling.)
Now we have a whole different conundrum. It's August on Martha's Vineyard, the President arrives in two weeks, and our annual population has just increased many times over. There are hungry folks (sophisticated city eaters) swarming over every inch of this Island (even up our way), and what do we have? NO tomatoes! We have 40 tomato plants, hundreds, maybe thousands of green tomatoes -- and every kind of pest imaginable conspiring to destroy them before we can harvest them. (This is an organic garden, of course.) The minute the tomatoes turn pinkish, the birds peck them and the worms find them. (Fortunately, some strategies we started a few days ago are already working, and it looks like we'll have Sun Golds for the weekend. But pests, including potato beetles and squash vine-borers, are a real challenge for first-time -- and experienced -- growers.)
It's all about supply and demand. We're getting lots of traffic at the stand this week (the demand), but we don't have quite the supply we need. If all of those tomatoes ripened and made it out to the stand over the next few weeks, it could be possible to make enough money in the month of August to propel us pretty close to our goal. It's funny, but all of the things that affect big growers -- supply & demand, time & money (no grower properly accounts for his or her time -- if at all), the vagaries of nature, and the economies of scale (mid-size may be better than small or big!) -- affect mini-growers, too, just in a less dramatic way.
My boyfriend is quick to point out that we haven't bought a vegetable at the grocery store in months (except for my recipe development ingredients) and that we also did not spend the $400 on a CSA share this year (which, as an aside, was a great value for everything I got over 22 weeks last year.) If you added the value of the food we've harvested from the garden for ourselves onto the ledger, things would look a lot rosier.
But to me the picture looks rosy, anyway. Because the experience of growing those tiny seedlings in out apartment this winter, of watching them take hold in the garden, and of then witnessing them produce the most beautiful array of delicious edibles you could imagine, is irreplaceable. Also, for me--a girl who left her office job because she couldn't stand to be inside all day--the garden is a great relief from the computer. It's a necessary balance for a good life.
Susie Middleton's first cookbook, Fast, Fresh & Green, was published by Chronicle Books in May, 2010.]]>Fast, Fresh & Green Hits Home With Easy, Delicious Vegetable Recipestag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.6429892010-07-12T11:59:49-04:002011-05-25T17:00:24-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/Last week, I watched a goat give birth. It was maybe the most amazing thing I've seen in my whole life. On Wednesday, I harvested potatoes and peas and arugula from my very own "market" garden -- and made $22 selling them at the farm stand (woo-hoo!). That in itself was the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. And then, on Friday, I picked up a copy of People magazine and read a review of my new cookbook, Fast, Fresh & Green, which, as luck would have it, has turned out to be an instant hit.
The juxtaposition of these things seems stranger than fiction to me. Here I am, living on an island, where I arrived two years ago to pursue a simpler, quieter life. This wasn't a casual move. I had to reach a spiritual bottom in order to understand that I needed to be reconnected with the source of my food to be happy. I was a cook and a writer, but in my day (and night) job as the stressed-out chief editor of a cooking magazine, I didn't even have time to get to a farmers' market.
So I traded in my closetful of frilly skirts and pointy-toe shoes for blue jeans and mucky barnyard boots. Swapped the big house for a tiny apartment, the secure salary for the pitiful income of a freelance food writer, the restaurant dinners for local chickens and potlucks at the Ag Hall. I left the office for the stove and the garden, and shed the madness of I-95 for the joy of a ferry ride.
I couldn't be happier or more satisfied. But selfishly, part of me thinks that now I should just get to be citizen Susie, instead of food writer Susie Middleton, who has to go out in the world and promote herself! I just want to grow my vegetables, cook my vegetables, write about my vegetables... oh, yeah, writing. Well, therein lies the truth: If I really just wanted to do my own thing, I wouldn't blog about it, and I wouldn't have written Fast, Fresh & Green the way I did. (The book, by the way, is a collection of more than 90 easy vegetable side dishes organized by nine great techniques for cooking them. I was very lucky to have the wonderful Chronicle Books design and publish the book, so it's not only useful, but pretty, too.)
I didn't write Fast, Fresh & Green for people who are already great cooks, with years of cooking experience under their belts. Nor did I write it for vegetarians or people who are really happy with the number and variety of vegetables they eat every day. (Although many of these folks are, in fact, enjoying cooking from the book.) I wrote the book for everyone who wants to cook with more vegetables. For everyone who cooks for picky eaters who don't think they like vegetables. For people who want to learn basic cooking skills, to cook at home more, and to eat a little better. That's a lot of us.
And what totally makes my day -- makes this food writing thing almost as cool as the goats and the farm stand (and it has nothing to do with People magazine) -- is that folks who've never cooked vegetables are cooking from Fast, Fresh & Green. And people who've been stuck in a vegetable rut tell me they're cooking their way through the entire book! They tell me the recipes (see below for a sample) are easy and delicious, and best of all, that they don't have to run around all over town to find exotic ingredients. I find this so awesome, because I feel strongly about helping people get back in the kitchen.
I think everyone with good cooking skills has a responsibility to share them these days, whether it's with a friend, a small child, or a blog audience. Because cooking at home isn't just one of the keys to a sane, balanced life (I should know!); it's one of the best tools we have as individuals to help (collectively) turn the ship around. The ship carrying the obesity and diabetes epidemics. The ship made of overly processed corn syrup-saturated food, steered by the behemoth known as Big Ag. (One wonders how this ship even floats.) The ship that leaves behind it a wake of citizens disconnected from the natural world of food--the natural world where vegetables are grown and animals raised in symbiotic ways that are sustainable in the long run.
So on days when I feel frustrated about these conundrums and wonder what one individual can do in the face of powerful forces, I consider the simple miracle of home cooking, of eating whole fresh foods, and of the joy that comes from sitting down at the dinner table to eat food that you cooked yourself or even gathered or grew yourself. To celebrate that joy, here's a recipe from Fast, Fresh & Green that makes the most of one of summer's sweetest treats--fresh corn, off the cob.
Summer Corn-off-the-Cob Saute with Chile, Lime & Cilantro
Use this recipe as a template and feel free to make substitutions. Instead of cilantro, use mint or basil (or a combination), replace the lime with lemon, or try a combination of cumin and coriander in place of the ancho chile powder. You could also use a little diced bell pepper in place of some of the onion, or you could add 1/2 teaspoon of minced serrano or jalapeno pepper to the onions.
When you saute corn, it always releases a bit of starch, which will brown on the bottom of the pan. This is the reason I suggest letting the saute sit for a few minutes in the pan after cooking. As the vegetables rest (especially the onions), they will release some moisture that will loosen some of the delicious browned bits, and you can then stir them in.
Melt 1 tablespoon of the butter with the olive oil in a 10-inch straight-sided skillet over medium-low heat. Add the onions and 1/2 teaspoon salt, cover, and cook, stirring occasionally, until translucent, about 5 minutes. Uncover, turn up the heat to medium, and saute, stirring frequently, until lightly browned, another 4 to 5 minutes.
Add the remaining 1 tablespoon butter, the corn kernels, and another 1/2 teaspoon salt. Cook, stirring frequently and scraping the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon, until the corn is tender but still slightly toothy to the bite, 4 to 5 minutes. (It will begin to intensify in color, glisten, and be somewhat shrunken in size). Add the chile powder and cook, stirring, for 1 minute. Stir in the lime zest and remove the pan from the heat. Let the corn saute sit undisturbed for 2 minutes (moisture released from the vegetables as they sit will loosen browned bits) and stir again, scraping up the browned bits from the bottom of the pan.
Season the saute with a few generous grinds of pepper and a good squeeze of the lime. Stir in half of the cilantro. Let sit for another couple of minutes if you have time. Stir and season to taste with more salt, pepper, or lime juice. Stir in the remaining cilantro just before serving.
Serves 4
Tip: I find the safest way to cut corn off the cob is to snap the shucked ears in half first. Then put one half, cut side facing down, on a large cutting board and slice down the cob with a sharp knife using a sawing motion. Keep turning the cob until you've cut off all the kernels. Repeat with the other half. For convenience, I also put a large (old) dishtowel over my cutting board before I start. When I'm done cutting, I can fold the corners of the towel up and easily transfer the kernels to a bowl. Any way you do it, be aware that corn kernels do have a tendency to go flying when you cut them.
Susie Middleton is the former editor and current editor at large for Fine Cooking magazine. She blogs about cooking and growing vegetables on Martha's Vineyard at sixburnersue.com. Her first cookbook, Fast, Fresh & Green, is available at your local independent bookstore (and online, of course.)
]]>Fresh Eggs, Grace, Rebirth, & Popoverstag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.5242042010-04-03T11:37:20-04:002011-05-25T16:00:23-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/
Some days I let gratitude slip away. I forget to be thankful for all the amazing little things in my new life. But most days I pinch myself when I wake up, just to make sure I haven't passed on to another world.
In a way, living on the island of Martha's Vineyard is like another world for me -- so different from the frantic Connecticut suburb I came from. Back there, to get anywhere, I had to encounter Route 1 - bumper-to-bumper cars, McDonald's, Kentucky Fried Chicken, TJ Maxx, Home Depot, and millions of harried people rushing, rushing, rushing. And Route 1 is where the giant Stop n Shop lives, where you go to get your highly processed, mass-produced, Big Ag-"farmed" food.
Here, on my way into town, I pass not one, but three farms where I can stop in to the barn, leave a few dollars, and help myself to a carton of fresh eggs. Often I get to say hello to the hens, or the farmers who keep them. I always peek inside the carton to see the colors of my eggs. Sometimes they're the color of last night's foggy spring twilight -- hazy grey and dusty blue all at once. Sometimes they're just brown and speckly; sometimes they're pointy, sometimes petite. But always their yolks are plump and perky and marigold-yellow.
I'm not sure I can adequately explain the joy that cooking with these eggs gives me, but for me, its grace. My idea of grace is an otherwise inexplicable gift in one's life, the gift of something you didn't know you needed so badly. For me, the malaise of my old life was watered by a disconnection from the natural world -- the world of where my food comes from. I can't say that I could articulate that then, but now, many dozens of fresh eggs later, I can.
I'm thinking about this a lot on Easter weekend, when we celebrate the power of rebirth, and the possibility for change. Three years ago, I would never have believed I had the power to make a whole new life for myself. But then, that's grace. Whether you celebrate Easter or welcome the amazing green rebirth we call Spring with some other kind of celebration, it's a good time to think about the tiny gifts you get in life -- and the power in accepting them.
I'll be celebrating tomorrow with eggs, of course. Another gift in my life is the willingness to accept treasures from the past -- to carry forward the best of my old life into my new. And my father's famous popover recipe is a childhood memory I will always hold close. In our house, making these puffy, custardy wonders has always been a Christmas morning tradition. But really, I think they're the perfect Easter morning celebration.
Popovers
For the lightest, puffiest popovers, put your eggs and milk out on your kitchen counter over night to let them come to room temperature. In the morning, the batter comes together very quickly in a blender.
1 ¼ cups whole milk, at room temperature
1 ¼ cups all-purpose flour (scoop, don't pack, when measuring flour)
½ teaspoon salt
4 large eggs, at room temperature
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled (more butter for serving)
Heat the oven to 425°. Spray a nonstick popover pan with nonstick spray. Combine the milk, flour, and salt in a blender and blend thoroughly. Add the eggs to the blender and blend until smooth. Lastly (with the blender running, if possible), blend in the melted butter.
Divide the popover batter equally among the 6 cups. Bake for 20 minutes. Reduce the oven temperature to 325° and continue baking until the popovers are very puffed and a deep golden brown, about another 15 minutes.
Serve warm with more butter.
Makes 6 popovers.
Susie Middleton is the author of a new veggie cookbook, Fast, Fresh & Green (Chronicle Books, April 2010). Visit her at sixburnersue.com]]>Friday Night is Pizza Night--At Hometag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.4781412010-02-26T10:56:37-05:002011-05-25T15:40:24-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/The Week of Eating In, and you're probably thinking, well, I kind of deserve to go out. Plus, it's nice to be kind of social on a Friday night. If you're tempted, maybe if you read this Huff Post on all the waste we generate when we eat out, you might hedge back towards staying home tonight. But flipping over to the positive, I have an even better reason for eating in tonight--home made pizza.
Because our eat-out options are limited in the winter on Martha's Vineyard, and because my boyfriend and I often have his 7-year-old daughter on a Friday night, we've gotten in the habit of making Friday night Pizza Night, at home. It's a totally fun activity; I put out a lot of toppings and everyone makes his or her own. I usually have a few different types of cheeses, both grated (parmesan, mozz, fontina) and crumbled (goat cheese is a favorite--I like white pizzas.) I saute some mushrooms and some onions, dice up sundried tomatoes and olives, cook a little bit of local sausage for the meaty eaters, and have some fresh herbs, sea salt, and good olive oil on hand for finishing. (If you've got time or the inclination to make some other toppings--maybe this weekend for next week's Pizza Night--you can find great recipes for roasted garlic, basil pesto, caramelized onions, and roasted tomatoes on www.finecooking.com.) As for sauce, you can make a quick tomato sauce from canned tomatoes, or you can buy (inexpensively and it doesn't have many additives) a jar of pizza sauce (kids like this).
Best of all, pizza dough is way easier to make at home than you think. During my years as an editor at Fine Cooking magazine, one of my very favorite stories was this one on Make and Freeze Pizza Dough by Evan Kleiman. This super-easy dough is made in the food processor, and takes about two seconds. (You'll have the flour, salt, and olive oil on hand. The only challenge for you snow-bound kids today will be finding a package of yeast.) There's very little kneading involved (also kid-friendly, if a bit kitchen-messy), and the dough divides nicely into 6 or 8 "individual" pizzas so everyone can customize his or her own. You can easily make a second batch if you want to have more friends in. The dough balls rise in a little less than an hour in a warm kitchen--just the right amount of time to have some drinks with friends in the kitchen while you put together your toppings.
Ideally, you'd bake your pizza on a pizza (or baking) stone (at 500 degrees), but if you don't have one, try baking your pizza on the back of a heavy duty sheet pan that's been pre-warmed in the oven. (Some folks also improvise a baking stone with unglazed terra cotta tiles bought at home stores. I've been told that imported tiles can contain lead, so do be aware of this.) You can also use a sheet pan (sprinkled with corn meal) to improvise a pizza peel (usually the easiest way to get a pizza in and out of the oven.)
Any way you do this, it's impossible not to have fun. Once you try it with a few friends or your family, I think you'll find yourself looking forward to Eating In on Friday nights.
]]>My Go-to Eat-In Pan: A Cast-Iron Skillet For Veggiestag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.4747332010-02-24T10:35:27-05:002011-05-25T15:40:24-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/
Lately I have been stuck (I mean blessed) with massive amounts of turnips, carrots, potatoes and onions. It's that darned (I mean wonderful) winter CSA share I've got. I've also been on deadline, a little short on time...and surprised when dinner hour arrives sooner than I thought. Yikes, I've got to improvise something with all those rootie-tooties again--something my boyfriend, Mr. Meat and Potatoes, will eat.
To the rescue: My cast iron pan. There's an amazing alchemy that happens to root vegetables (diced up and tossed with happy amounts of good olive oil) when they are very slowly sautéed in a cast iron pan. Cast iron retains and distributes heats so well that you can cook the vegetables over fairly low heat (avoiding the risk of burning before being cooked through), stirring only every once in a while, until they are deeply golden and cooked through. You'd think you'd need to boil or par-cook root vegetables in some way before sautéing them, but the secret to slow-sautéing successfully is to actually overcrowd the pan at the start (not usually good advice for sautéing moister veg), so that the roots steam a bit, too, while they are caramelizing. The end result is so incredibly sweet and intriguingly delicious, that I promise you--anyone will eat these. The added bonus is that once you get these veg in the pan, you can go back to doing other things for the next 35 or 40 minutes, simply stopping by every once in a while to stir and maybe adjust the heat.
For these sautés, I use a combination of vegetables (all cut the same size) that I think will cook at about the same rate. (Choose from turnips, rutabagas, carrots, potatoes, and celery root.) I always dice up some onions or leeks, too (or slice shallots), and add them about halfway through cooking, when they will add moisture and flavor. (Any sooner and they'd burn before the roots are done.) I always throw in some rosemary, thyme, or sage sprigs.
If you want to add these veg to your Week of Eating In strategy, you don't really need a recipe--just some guidelines and proportions:
Slow-Sauteed Turnips, Potatoes & Carrots: For a 10-inch cast-iron pan, dice ½ pound trimmed (but unpeeled) purple-topped turnips, ½ pound unpeeled Yukon Gold potatoes, and ½ pound peeled carrots. Pour 3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil into the pan and place it over medium-high heat. Add the veggies, several herb sprigs, and about ½ tsp. kosher salt. Stir well. Reduce the heat to medium. As the vegetables cook, stir and flip them with a metal spatula every so often, and, if necessary, gradually reduce the heat as they brown so that you hear a consistently gentle sizzle from the pan. (Any louder and the veg may be browning too quickly.) After about 20 minutes, add a medium onion, diced, and continue stirring and flipping until the vegetables are caramelized and cooked through, about 15 more minutes. Remove herb sprigs before serving.
If you don't have a cast-iron pan, you can certainly do this kind of sauté in a stainless steel straight-sided skillet. Just keep in mind that you might need to add a bit more oil or watch the temperature a little more carefully. But a cast iron pan is such a versatile thing that I think you won't be sorry if you get one. (Click here for a great video of making cornbread in a cast iron pan.) If you're not in a rush and you like the idea of reusing, chances are you can find a well-seasoned pan at a flea market or in an older relative's kitchen. But these days you can also get a pre-seasoned 10-inch Lodge cast-iron skillet for only about $15. They're great for sear-roasting chicken (browning on the stovetop and then plopping in the oven), and you can even use them on the grill.
Susie Middleton's vegetable cookbook, Fast, Fresh & Green, will be published by Chronicle Books in April. Follow Susie on twitter @sixburnersue.]]>Eat Your Veggies--Deliciously (Try a Carrot Stir-Fry for Starters)tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.4730212010-02-23T10:23:44-05:002011-05-25T15:35:18-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/to encourage people to cook more at home. So I would be really remiss if I didn't post during Eating In week. In fact I'm a little embarrassed that I'm just getting around to it now; the problem is that I've been busy, well, cooking. With a 7-year-old. All weekend. This little person is a total gift in my life (though a very high-energy one!) For some reason, when she comes to visit, she likes nothing better than to stand on a little stool at the end of my kitchen counter and mix, stir, spoon, drizzle, and ladle whatever is on the menu. This weekend we made homemade pizza with about 15 different toppings. We also made roasted tomatoes, which we call tomato candy. Yum. Surprisingly, this 7-year-old is really open-minded about vegetables.
That's a good thing, since my house is vegetable central. I spent the last couple years developing more than 100 vegetable side dish recipes for my first cookbook, Fast, Fresh & Green, which is being published by Chronicle Books this spring. I also develop a lot of vegetable recipes for Fine Cooking magazine, and now for my under-construction website, www.sixburnersue.com. All of this is a bit ironic, as I myself wasn't terribly open-minded about vegetables as a kid, and as an adult, I'd still rather eat chocolate than just about anything else. But not all the time. I really do believe--and it's something I wish I could shout out loud--that everyone would eat more vegetables if they learned how to cook them deliciously. I am hoping that Huff Post's Eating In Week might help some folks get friendly with vegetables, so I thought I'd share some recipes that I've found to be crowd-pleasers.
Today I'm posting a carrot stir-fry, as carrots are so darn friendly that just about every generation likes them. Of course, if you've got bad memories of mushy, overcooked carrots, you might be wary. Just remember two things when cooking carrots: Cut them into evenly sized pieces so that they all cook at the same rate (I like sticks). Then remember that high heat--sautéing, stir-frying, roasting--will caramelize their sugars and turn their flavor from slightly mineral-y to sweet and toasty. One caveat--carrots can dry out with too much dry, high, heat, so finishing them off with a little liquid (or roasting them with a thorough coating of olive oil) will yield the perfect texture.
Gingery Stir-Fried Carrots with Cranberry and Orange
If you don't have a nonstick stir-fry pan, use a large nonstick skillet instead. The bowl shape of the stir-fry pan is an advantage, as there is lots of surface area for the carrots to brown up, and they also steam a little bit from their own moisture as you toss them around the pan. The result is delicious flavor and perfect texture. My favorite stir-fry pan is a 12-inch Circulon.
Serves 3
1 pound carrots
1 tablespoon cranberry juice (unsweetened)
1 tablespoon fresh orange juice
1/8 teaspoon balsamic vinegar
½ teaspoon kosher salt
1 tablespoon vegetable oil
¼ cup (about 2 small) sliced scallions, white and green
2 teaspoons minced fresh ginger
pinch red pepper flakes
1 teaspoon unsalted butter
Trim and peel your carrots and cut them into sticks that are 2 to 3 inches long, and between ¼ and 3/8 inch thick. Combine the cranberry juice, orange juice and balsamic vinegar in a small bowl.
In a large (12-inch) nonstick stir-fry pan, heat the vegetable oil over medium-high heat. When the oil is hot (it will loosen up), add the carrots and salt and stir well with tongs. Cook, stirring only occasionally and spreading out the vegetables after every stir, until the carrots are browned in places (they should have lost their stiffness; some will be slightly blackened), about 10 minutes. Adjust the heat up if the carrots are not browning after a couple minutes; lower the heat if the carrots are browning too much after five or six minutes.
Turn the heat to low, add the scallions and ginger, and stir until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Turn off the heat, add the cranberry/orange/balsamic combo and stir until the liquids have mostly reduced and been absorbed. Take the pan off the heat, add the butter, and toss and stir gently until it melts. Serve warm.
Recipe by Susie Middleton. Follow Susie on Twitter @sixburnersue.]]>You, Too, Can Join the Food Revolution: Cook Dinner at Home!tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.4615252010-02-13T17:32:51-05:002011-05-25T15:30:22-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/
Needless to say, folks around here eat dinner at home. A lot. Especially this time of year, when even the pricier restaurants close for a month or two. My town has exactly zero restaurants open for dinner in the month of February. In summer, we have more options on Martha's Vineyard, but some years back the year-round population (which is a demographic significantly different from the perceived demographic most mainlanders conjure up based on the publicity generated around summer visitors) voted to prevent fast food restaurants from getting a foothold on the island. (We don't have Wal Marts or Home Depots, either.)
What we do have out here is a lot of potlucks. It's potluck central. Whether we're raising money for a local fisherman who needs cancer treatments or screening a movie at the community center or just celebrating the solstice, tradition calls for a potluck. To me, these things make so much sense. First off, you get to share the load for cooking dinner. (I'm thinking this idea might translate well for busy families anywhere who want to try more home cooking and less fast food.) Secondly, they provide a much-needed social outing, as winter on a (snowy) island can be a bit isolating. This year is particularly tough, with a high percentage of Islanders out of work. But again, there's an aspect to potlucks that people everywhere could benefit from -- practicing the lost art of cooking for neighbors. Most of the local churches out here have weekly soup suppers, too. And it goes without saying that when someone dies, armloads of home-cooked food show up at the back door (not the front, of course, this being New England).
While small-town life on an Island might drive a lot of people crazy, I think in many ways the resulting culture of home cooking (and the forced separation from fast food) is a gift. Our physical boundaries help us in other ways, too, by creating a natural food community that can come together a little more quickly and nimbly to affect change. For example, while the national media has recently been focusing on the monumental efforts to create Edible Schoolyards in some big cities, here on the Island a whole community of parents, teachers, kids, and small business people, led by the non-profit group Island Grown Initiative (IGI), decided to join forces two years ago to build vegetable gardens in each of the Island's seven schools. Not only have they accomplished that goal, but they've also put in place a robust curriculum -- and teacher training -- to assure that the gardens are as exciting and educational to kids as they were intended to be.
One of IGI's other successful programs began when they initiated a dialogue between local farmers and school cafeteria chefs. The lunch ladies had been working with the same abysmal budgets and restrictive contracts that schools everywhere do, and not a leaf of local lettuce had landed on the lunch plate of a local school cafeteria in years. (And this on an island with a rich agriculture heritage.) Now local farmers -- some only miles up the road from a local school -- are finding ways to deliver excess produce to the schools at a price they can afford, and it's a win-win for everyone.
Recently, while I was out in the "real world," I began to think about how incredibly lucky we are here because of all these things. I was thinking of this because I often get discouraged when I read the sustainable news; I begin to think that real change will be long and hard -- and maybe even impossible.
But for the first time in a long time, I felt a great surge of hope when I listened to sustainable guru Fred Kirschenmann speak at the Edible Institute in Santa Fe a few weeks ago. (The first Edible Institute was organized by Edible Communities to precede the annual gathering of the publishers and editors of the now 62-strong Edible magazine group.)
Listening to Kirschenmann, I began to think that maybe people really are beginning to understand that the problems with our food system are not just economic or political, but that fundamentally, our food crisis is a social, cultural, and spiritual one. Kirschenmann argued that the food revolution has truly begun, and to take heart; while there may only be 3 to 4 percent of us onboard right now, we don't have as far to go as we think. He said that only 25 percent of colonists were in favor of the American Revolution; and look how that worked out! He also argued that people are hungry to redevelop a true relationship with food. (And that commodities aren't cozy.) And that more and more folks are wanting to know where their food comes from, to learn how to prepare it, and to maybe even grow some.
Soon after I got back from that trip, Michele Obama announced her Let's Move campaign. Wow, I though, that percentage of revolutionaries may grower faster than we think. Michelle Obama is a godsend. I think she gets the whole picture: Yes, it's a necessary and great idea to get junk food out of schools, but until parents decide it's a good idea to sit down and eat dinner together several nights a week, our relationship with food isn't going to change.
And then, just yesterday, I listened to Jamie Oliver's absolutely mesmerizing and inspiring TED address, and I thought, he just may be the biggest revolutionary of all. Really, I could just hug that man; here he is dedicating his life to the cause -- to helping obese people, one-on-one, learn to cook real meals. It makes me feel like we cooks can make a difference. And by we cooks, I mean anyone who can roast a chicken or stir-fry broccoli. If you can do those things, show someone else how to. If you can't, call me. Well, maybe try Jamie first.
Follow Susie Middleton on twitter @sixburnersue. Susie's vegetable cookbook, Fast, Fresh & Green is coming this April from Chronicle books.
]]>Frost on the Turnip: Eating Green in Januarytag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2010:/theblog//3.4166932010-01-08T15:28:38-05:002011-05-25T15:10:21-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/Morning Glory Farm is our only farm on Martha's Vineyard with an actual retail store) closes for the winter on the last day of December, and so ends the opportunity to raid their freezer for local beef, pork, and chicken. So there I was, doing my best bag lady impression, stuffing my rumpled canvas totes full of spare ribs and chicken legs, all on sale for the store closing.
In retrospect, it seems I made a good decision to try and eat mostly locally again this winter, what with the dubious quality of some of the other delicious offerings available to us at grocery stores, like those tasty ammonia-seasoned (yet still E.coli-contaminated) ground beef patties. Yum. And I have to say, so far so good this year with the strategy: I've got plenty of freezer space, and I've learned how to hold some things better.
Last year, I tried holding squash and potatoes in a cool closet, but they were in canvas bags (not enough air circulation) and they rotted in a few weeks. This year, I've relegated the butternut squash I (also) got at the Morning Glory fire sale to a very cool attic. Spread out on open shelves, they seem to be holding just fine. I've also discovered (partially by experiment and partially by accident), that the beets and turnips I accumulated over the last couple months of my CSA share are holding perfectly in the vegetable bin of my fridge. They're wrapped in dishtowels, and popped inside ziptop bags (recycled, I promise!). There's no sign of rot and some are 10 to 12 weeks old.
Also, since I had my little tiny vegetable garden this year, I decided to leave some carrots in the ground (along with a few Swiss chard and arugula plants) after the first frost. I covered them with a blanket of white Remay, which soon was buried under a blanket of white snow. After the snow melted, I uncovered the Remay and harvested perfectly delicious carrots (and Swiss chard--arugula was a tad wilty!). I wish I had parsnips in the ground as they supposedly love a freeze.
The only real problem is that I am beginning to look askance at the large supply of turnips and celery root I have. It's hard to keep things interesting on the culinary front when you eat root vegetables with every meal. But you also make some great discoveries. My new favorite thing is addictive celery root "chips," made by slicing peeled celery root paper thin, tossing with olive oil and salt, and roasting until crisp. The other day, I also came across an old recipe I had developed for The Providence Journal nearly 2o years ago for a delicious turnip, celery root, garlic and rosemary soup. ("Eureka!" I thought. "This uses everything in one dish!"). If you're in root-vegetable winter-wonderland like I am, try this silky pureed soup:
Trim, peel, and dice 1 pound celery root, ½ pound purple-topped turnips, ½ pound Yukon Gold potatoes (weights before trimming), and 1 large onion. Peel 12 large garlic cloves and cut them in half. Melt 3 Tbs. butter in a Dutch oven, sauté the onion until tender, add and sauté briefly 1 tsp. chopped fresh rosemary, 1/2 tsp. ground coriander, 1 tsp. sugar, and 1 tsp. kosher salt, and then add in all the remaining vegetables and 7 cups chicken or vegetable broth. Simmer 30 to 40 minutes until the vegetables are tender, turn off the heat, let sit to cool a bit, and puree in batches in a blender. Return to the pot, taste to season with salt, pepper, and a tiny bit of lemon juice, and stir in a ½ cup of heavy cream if you like. (It's still great without.) Serve with toasted pine nuts and a little more chopped fresh rosemary for garnish.
Lest you think it's all roots and bones all winter around here, I have to tell you the best part about eating locally in the winter: Freezer-diving for summer fruit. Yesterday I dipped into my cache of frozen raspberries (that we picked at Whippoorwill Farm for weeks last fall), and let them defrost in a bowl overnight. As they warmed up, they sort of melted into a brilliant ruby-red pool of liquid that tasted like the very essence of summer. Twirled into my yogurt (goat's milk--yum!), it tasted almost as good as an ice cream cone on a hot summer night--and certainly was more appreciated.
At some point, I'm going to run out of roots. Never fear, thanks to the best idea to come along in years--our new monthly winter farmers' market--there'll be no need to go turnip-less. I'll even get some delicious winter salad greens from a local greenhouse. That's a good thing, as all roots and no greens makes dinner a bit drab.
]]>The Meat-Eaters Guide to Eating Less Meattag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2009:/theblog//3.3824812009-12-07T10:17:41-05:002011-05-25T14:50:26-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/fond, though growing up in my family, we called it "crispy," and fought over who'd get to scrape it off the bottom of the roasting pan. Whatever you call it, it's the deeply caramelized juices that have gathered beneath a roasting bird and reduced down into a rich, mahogany salty-sweetish treat that's not only more satisfying to nibble on than the best potato chips, but also is the foundation for the tastiest gravy.
That's why I'm so happy I went to the home of a great cook for Thanksgiving dinner; her gravy, made from the deepest, darkest of pan drippings, was nirvana. Or at least the closest to gravy nirvana I may come for a while, as I think my meat-eating days may be numbered.
Like watching the dark clouds of a gathering storm, I have been reading, reading, reading about the horrors of factory farming over the last couple of years, knowing full well that the truth would soon be upon me like a sudden downpour. Little by little, I've stopped buying meat at the grocery store -- unless I'm lucky enough to find some with either the Certified Humane or Animal Welfare Approved label on it -- and taken more and more comfort in the pasture-raised beef, pork, and chicken I can buy at two nearby farms (even though it's a little more expensive).
But right before Thanksgiving, I (like a lot of HuffPosters) decided to read Jonathan Saffran Foer's Eating Animals. A few pages in, I knew my storm had finally arrived. And it wasn't the showers I expected; it was more like hail. I'd figured I'd learn more about the inhumane practices of factory farms; what I didn't anticipate was Foer's exploration of the inherent suffering of all animals (including fish) raised and killed for human consumption. Ack. And Foer is not subtle. With all due respect to Foer, I sometimes felt like the book was written in capital letters. Every night as I read a few pages before bedtime, I had the urge to put it down and pick up my copy of Mary Karr's new alcoholism memoir, Lit. I figured it'd be cheerier.
But I held on, and like most people who just barely escape serious storm damage, I've determined to build my house a little stronger. I will be even more vigilant about sourcing my meat (and any kind of meat product, including that ubiquitous canned broth). Ultimately, though, despite Foer's provocations, I decided I'm not yet ready to go vegetarian. For a couple reasons. One, I still believe that the natural world thrives on balance, and that the small diversified family farm is key to a balanced ecosystem. I want to support small farmers. (Read Nicole Hahn Niman's "The Carnivore's Dilemma" for more on this.)
But secondly, and maybe more importantly, as a cook and a food writer, I feel like the most responsible thing I can do at this point is to take up the middle ground (never the sexy choice) of eating less meat rather than no meat. We need big change fast: The latest studies estimate that our current system of intensive livestock farming is responsible for 51% of greenhouse gases. We Americans eat, on average, 200 pounds of meat per year. Realistically, we are not going to convert a nation of meat-eaters to vegetarians overnight. (If you're the cook in the family, you know what I'm talking about). But there are some pretty easy steps that we can take to cut back, to cut down--maybe even greatly reduce--the amount of meat we eat. If you're a meat eater hoping to eat more consciously, I offer a few of the strategies I'm trying in my own quest for a balanced, sustainable diet. (I'm sorry, but these tips aren't for vegans or vegetarians.)
1. Eat meat at no more than one meal a day. If you have bacon or sausage for breakfast, don't have a turkey sandwich for lunch and pork tenderloin for dinner. Lately, I've found that a steamy bowl of soup makes a satisfying breakfast--not traditional, but filling. Grilled or roasted vegetables make great sandwich fillings for lunch. 2. Eat meatless dinners twice a week. Try having a make-your-own-pizza night at home with good store-bought dough and lots of vegetarian toppings like sundried tomatoes, caramelized onions, and sautéed mushrooms. Making custom fried rice (kids love "7-treasure" rice) or custom pasta toppings are fun vegetarian dinner options. 3. Redesign your dinner plate. Serve a portion of meat that's no more than 4 ounces, and make three-quarters of your plate vegetables and grains. 4. Use meat as a flavoring rather than a main dish. To make vegetable dishes feel more substantial, start by sautéing just a small amount of meat, like sausage or ham, along with onions and garlic, before adding greens or other vegetables. Serve over polenta as a main dish. 5. Learn to make a few good one-pot meals that stretch meat. I recently made a big batch of spaghetti sauce with 3 pounds of local beef, and it yielded a generous 12 servings, which I froze in portions for weeknight pasta dinners. Chilis, lasagnas, pasta sauces, and stews are good meat-stretchers. 6. Turn eggs into meals. Eggs are incredibly versatile, so instead of confining them to breakfast, think of them in main dishes: frittatas, stratas, and savory bread puddings are easy to make and leftovers are perfect for lunch. (Be sure to find a local source for your eggs.) 7. Eat shellfish. If you're not a coastal dweller, it may seem anathema to you to eat mussels or oysters. But they're both on Monterey Bay Aquarium Seafood Watches Super Green list, so they make a good sustainable fish choice. Farmed mussels, in particular, are widely available now, and they're inexpensive, delicious, filling, and versatile (add them to just about any soup base). 8. Turn salad into dinner. A warm salad can be really satisfying and is a good meat-stretcher too. Start with a quick sauté or stir fry of a bit of meat and some veggies and turn out over greens. Dress with vinaigrette warmed in the pan. Serve with crusty bread. 9. Bring your lunch to work. Forget the deli or fast food. You will feel so much better and more satisfied if you bring your own: Think soup, salad, frittata, or even a ploughman's lunch of cheese, fruit, and bread. 10. Spend more time in the kitchen. There is no getting around this one. By eating less meat, you'll be cooking more vegetables and grains, which take more prep. Set aside a Sunday afternoon to cook ahead, too, and refrigerate or freeze for the week. Use your new commitment as a good excuse to take some cooking classes; cooking from scratch is about the best thing you can do for both your well-being and the environment.
]]>Where the Wild Things Grow: The Zen of Foragingtag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2009:/theblog//3.3422952009-11-02T11:49:48-05:002011-05-25T14:30:27-04:00Susie Middletonhttp://www.huffingtonpost.com/susie-middleton/
At the very least, it would be a great excuse to get outside on one of those seductively warm and breezy October days when the sunlight already has the cool, distant quality of winter, but the earth beneath your feet is still radiant from the waning summer heat, and the fluffy carpets of fallen leaves feel like soft bedroom slippers for your soul.
I invited along my friend Roy, who, as it happens, has a pretty good eye for wild hazelnuts, edible mushrooms, and yellow-rumped warblers (not edible). We didn't turn out to be very good group participants, falling behind repeatedly as we stopped to stuff our pockets with Autumn olives and hickory nuts or to stare at mesmerizing formations of lime-green lily pads on quiet ponds hidden by scrub oaks and stumpy pines. (This is a shortcoming of mine--straying from the pack; I've always been told to stay in the middle where it's safe, but there is something about lingering on the edges that invites adventure.)
Straggling, we almost missed the best part of the walk. We came upon the group clustered around Russ in a grassy clearing by the edge of a large pond. He'd knelt down and was ruffling a delicate carpet of tiny green leaves and wispy vines. He lifted one of the vines to reveal a plump, blushing-pink berry--a wild cranberry, as it turned out. Wild cranberries! Oh my! I was instantly charmed and thrilled. Cultivated cranberries (from bog to plastic bag) I knew; but here at my feet was something growing the same way it had grown more than four centuries ago when the Wampanoags introduced the "sour berry" - a great source of winter nutrition - to the Pilgrims.
As the rest of the group moved on to finally sample Vitis Labrusca, that wild "fox" grape (intensely musty flavored; there's a reason they don't make wine from these grapes), Roy and I lingered by the cranberries, picking a few so that I could make just a tiny batch of souvenir native cranberry sauce. I'm not sure why these berries thrilled me so much, but hovering there, I felt the same way I had felt hunched over a slippery rock harvesting mussels a few months back, and the same way I felt reaching the top branch of a wild blueberry bush to pick those summer treats. Of all the conscious efforts I've made in the last few years to get reconnected with the source of my food, the satisfaction I've gotten out of (responsibly) gathering some of it has been most surprising.
Before you think I've completely gone off my rocker, I have to say that I'm not in any way advocating foraging as a part of the physical solution to our current food problems. For me, it's a spiritual thing, just like growing some of my own vegetables, joining a CSA, picking apples at a local orchard, going fishing, or buying meat from a local farmer. It's not so much the food as it is the physical act of gathering and preparing it--sitting around the kitchen table shelling stubborn hickory nuts with a friend, sharing a loaf of pumpkin-cranberry bread with a neighbor--that feeds me spiritually.
And it's just one tiny way that I combat the angst I feel some days (like yesterday, when I started reading Eating Animals) about the severity of what I consider to be a worldwide spiritual crisis--the imbalance of the relationship of men and animals and plants in our modern life. I wonder, as a food writer, and as a citizen, what in the world I can do to help. It's not as if we can all travel to Washington and lobby against big agribusiness. But we do eat three times a day, and as Wendell Berry says, "Eating is an agricultural act." And a pleasurable one at that. Rediscovering the pleasure in gathering, growing, and preparing our own food--not to mention sharing that pleasure with others--isn't just a good way to combat stress and restore balance to our own lives; it's an acknowledgment of our place in the world, of our connection to our neighbors, and our desire to participate in the solution.
