The Game Whose Name Must Not Be Mentioned

I am writing this blog while relaxing in a pale pink rose petal scented bubble bath trying to wash away the let down of the Game Whose Name Must Not Be Mentioned (at least if you care WTF the NFL says).  My Farmer's Market shopping spree yesterday fueled a cooking fiesta today.  I think I logged more yards than Peyton Manning washing, prepping, plating, and serving the bounty.  Our menu was simple because everyone is on a diet, has eating restrictions, or is saving their calories for alcohol consumption.  

The first play, a safety in favor of the Seahawks, was ushered in with soft, warm, garlic naan topped with an Indian-spiced tomato-ey eggplant chutney and cilantro sauce, some crudités, hummus, and Dubliner aged white cheddar with "everything" crackers.

The dismal first and second quarters were washed away with a couple of growlers of Altamont Shelter IPA and Altamony Mahogany Red.  I was starting to think perhaps the Broncos had chugged a few growlers of their own,  judging by their lackluster performance. If they hadn't, I bet they were wishing that had.  So much for the grand hopes of a major booty spanking that all of us Niners fans were hoping for.  As the 2nd quarter ended, we were ready to pull out the tequila with a Fireball chaser until we realized Bob won $100 in the office pool.  Some consolation, at least.

 

Finally, time for the Great National Half Time Chowdown.  Forsaking the traditional American artery clogging entrees like molten Velveeta nachos or sour cream and mayonnaise dip with onion scented chemical powder addititives, our visit to the Ferry Plaza market on Saturday inspired this menu:  soft tacos made with handmade blue and white corn tortillas, organic heirloom beans, smoked sliced portobellos and poblanos, homemade vibrant pink pickled red onion curtido juxtaposed with fresh ripe lime green avocado slices dusted in smoked sea salt, crema, and a really spicy hot green chile salsa (thanks Judy!).   We also had some coriander and oregano-brined slow smoked chicken legs for the meat eaters, and a dessert of tiny Bosc pears poached in maple-pomegranate molasses with a moist, dense whole wheat pumpkin gingerberbread crumble top cake on the side. 

The Ayocote Amarillo heirloom dried beans were really good, much different from a standard pinto bean.  Cooked with onion, oregano, and garlic, they form a dark, rich, meaty tasting broth which intensifies in flavor when cooked up in our La Chamba black clay bean pot.  The pot absorbs the flavors of the spices each time it's used, and these aromatic scents seep back into the broth, adding a depth of flavor that is lacking when a steel kettle is used.  

I made the poached pears sous vide - simple and predictable. The tart pomegranate molasses was offset by the maple syrup, and using a temperature of 175 degrees for two hours resulted in a pear that had just barely softened but still had a memory of its crunch.  I loved that we could find these little tiny sized pears at the Farmer's Market - you'd never see them in this size at the grocery store.

Alas, my bath water has sufficiently poached my feet and all the pink bubbles have lost their effervescence, so I guess I had better sign off.  Go Niners,  see you in next year's Sup3rb0w1!

Monkey See, Monkey Do

I love going to the Farmer’s market but today was especially fun for several reasons.  For one thing, the weather was beautiful and sunny.  Also - Bob was with me – a big treat because usually I have to shop alone.  But best of all, I was not at just any Farmer’s Market, I was at the CUESA San Francisco Farmer’s Market at the Ferry Building, my favorite market of all.  The shops at the Ferry Building are really fun to explore, with all my favorite vendors (think: Sur la Table, Acme Bread, Cowgirl Creamery, and stores devoted only to mushrooms, olive oil or “tasty salted pig parts” as their sign proclaims).  And the people watching is great too - this market is full of diverse vendors and lots of interesting people, especially chef-people, from big name restaurants that even if you could get a reservation, you’d have to take a 2^nd mortgage on your house to pay for the meal. 

And that leads me to the topic of cardoons.  Before today, I had no clue what a cardoon was. The name sounds like some kind of ancient Asian sailing ship or a district in Hong Kong.  When we first arrived at the market, I saw a man carrying an armload of long-stemmed greens with silvery foliage.   Later in the day, I saw another guy buying a big cart load of them.  He had boxes of other assorted produce on his cart too, so I figured he was from one of the local restaurants.  I pointed to the foliage and asked him what they were.  “Cardoons,” he stated matter of factly.  “Oh,” I replied, “What do they taste like, and how do you cook them?”  “They taste like a mild artichoke. We like to blanch them first, then sauté them in garlic, butter, and olive oil.”  Yummmm!  I love artichokes. And of course anything in garlic and butter is going to taste good.  How odd that leaves would taste like artichokes, but now that I looked closer at them, the leaves did sort of look like the leaves of artichoke plants. Being the nosy, I mean curious, person that I am, I had to ask, “So what restaurant are you buying for?  I’d like to go there and try them – they sound delicious!”  The guy looked taken aback for a minute and then he said – “Saison”.  Saison!  Saison is only one of the hottest high end restaurants in the City, on par with Napa’s French Laundry, IMHO.  I made some lame joke about not being able to ever get a reservation, and then as soon as he left I immediately bought a bundle of cardoons.  You may be saying “Monkey see, Monkey do!”  but I figured If they are good enough for Saison, then they are good enough for me.

The leafy bundle with celery-like stems are the cardoons

When I got home, I opened my iPad and immediately googled cardoons.  That’s when I learned you eat the stems, not the leaves.  Hmm.  I wish I had known that before – the stems on my bundle were really anemic looking, skinny and limp.  I followed a link and learned that the stems are covered in spines and you should wear gloves while peeling them.  Gloves?  Yikes, this was starting to remind me of my unfortunate experience trying to juice prickly pear fruits, in which I ended up with thousands of miniscule spines in my hands, forearms and stomach (don’t ask). 

I found a pair of kitchen gloves and then set off peeling the stems as described in the article. The web author’s pictures looked lovely, with nicely pared, bright green, firm celery-like stems.  Mine looked like a piece of limp, dried out celery you’d find in the back of your crisper drawer, which you have decided to clean out because it was exuding a foul smell.  Worst of all, my $4.00 armload of cardoons was reduced to about ½ cup of laboriously peeled and chopped stems.  So far, this experiment was not going well.

 

Trying to keep a good attitude, I blanched the stems in salted, boiling water, and then removed them to an ice bath as soon as they were tender.  I tasted one small piece at this point, and I have to say, it was pretty good. They had a very mild, subtle artichoke taste, with a texture like the bottom of the heart, where it meets the stem.  Next, I took a little piece of black truffle butter that I just happened to have on hand (that story is for another blog), and a bit of olive oil, and sautéed the pieces. They cooked down to about 1/3 cup but they did taste really good.  Sorry Bob, I didn’t save you any.  But you wouldn’t have wanted them anyway, given that you don’t like the flavor of truffle and you don’t eat butter.  Final Score: 6/10 – mostly because they were a lot of work for so little reward.  But – I will definitely try them again, this time I'll look for a bundle with some stems that are a little meatier and fresher.  I encourage you to do the same – if you like artichokes, you will certainly like these, and it’s always nice to have another tasty vegetable dish to add your repertoire.