Garden 2015: Mixed Bag of Tomatoes

Tomatoes this year? A mixed bag. The cherry tomatoes—one Sungold and a black cherry—were prolific, as was a full-sized green variety called Aunt Ruby's. The two Purple Cherokees, on the other hand, were disappointing, both in terms of healthy plant growth and yield. The darker tomatoes are our perennial favorites for their robust flavor and gung-ho willingness to lend a hand for slicing, as well as serving in sandwiches and tomato salads, so we'll probably opt for another variety next year.

A simple sandwich.

Fortunately, though, the farmers' markets and local supermarkets have given us plenty of supplemental, organic "heirloom" tomatoes—a term d'art used to describe not just old varieties, but almost any open-pollinated (i.e. non-hybrid) tomato, whether bred for commercial or private consumption.

Gazpacho.

And consume them we have, from simply sliced on a platter to wedging them between two slices of Dave's homemade whole wheat bread to a snack bowl of cherry tomatoes on the kitchen island, perfect for grabbing as you pass by. There's been cool gazpacho and panzanella, and more of those cherry tomatoes tossed in a grilled corn salad. And of course let's not forget the pasta with cherry tomatoes, garlic and anchovies that's one of our go-to quick dinners.

Tomato salad.

Even after all that, there was a moment when I walked in from the garden with another gallon of cherry tomatoes—we were also watering our vacationing neighbors' tomato plants, which were producing like crazy—and I would have shed some tomato-laced tears, but I remembered a tomato jam (top photo) I made a few years ago.

So if you get to that "too many tomatoes" stage and you've made all the tomato dishes you can think of, and even created a few more out of sheer desperation, here's a simple fix for the problem that you can enjoy any time this winter when the supply of the fresh article has dwindled.

Tomato Jam
Adapted from Mark Bittman for the New York Times

1 1/2 lbs. good ripe tomatoes(Roma are best), cored and coarsely chopped
1 c. sugar
2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed lime juice
1 Tbsp. fresh grated or minced ginger
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
1 tsp. salt
1 jalapeño or other peppers, stemmed, seeded and minced, or red pepper flakes or cayenne to taste.

Combine all ingredients in a heavy medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring often. Reduce heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until mixture has consistency of thick jam, about 1 hour 15 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning, then cool and refrigerate until ready to use; this will keep at least a week. [I put them in clean, lidded glass jars and freeze them. - KB]

Yield: About 1 pint.

Bittman's Bite

As much as I love staying at home, tapping away on my laptop on the kitchen counter, padding around to warm up some coffee in the microwave, tripping over a Corgi or two on the way there, I sometimes find it instructional to get out of the house once in awhile. Not by attending a class, mind you, but by putting myself in an unfamiliar situation to see what happens.

Like going with a friend who's a dog breeder into the backstage "Best in Show" world of professional dog shows. Or spending a couple of days helping sort grapes at a winery. Or, like last night, attending a book reading/talk at Powell's downtown. Of course, the person doing the talking was Mark Bittman, columnist for the New York Times Dining section, author of several cookbooks and at least one book, Food Matters,about our broken food system.

He presented himself exactly the way he comes across in his writing and his videos—laid back, plainspoken yet thoughtful and funny in an off-the-cuff sort of way. His topic these days is that broken food system and, in his opinion, that people have forgotten how to cook. That in the post-war 50s our food system was taken over by industrialized agriculture, which promoted the idea of modern convenience foods, making "old-fashioned" cooking with simple ingredients look like way more work than it should be.

Part of his solution to the epidemic of obesity and diabetes is to start teaching people how to cook again, using simple ingredients readily available, what he termed "a new CCC—Civilian Cooking Corps." And while he said that some of the changes need to be made on a national level, involving dislodging entrenched interests, he feels many changes can be made on a local level in our own communities.

Granted, none of what he said was new or startling. But the fact that a journalist at his level is championing the cause of good food and health is a positive sign, one that made me glad I ventured outside of my comfort zone.

End of a Summer Affair

I think it's finally played itself out and, frankly, it came just in time. Tomato season, delayed as it was, had built up the kind of frustration normally only seen on series TV. Remember Diane and Sam on Cheers? How about Niles and Daphne on Frasier? And, it goes without saying, Next Gen's Picard and Riker. Talk about heat!

But, as with all torrid affairs, the tidal wave of passionate paroxysms passed, leaving piles of fruit still needing attention, if only to rid the kitchen of the fruit flies attracted by the heat of the moment. Even with the freezer filled up with sauce, and some cherry tomatoes dried in the oven, there was a pile of slicers on the counter that were getting dangerously close to composting before my eyes.

That's when I saw a recipe for a tomato cobbler on Mark Bittman's website. (I swear I'm not stalking him. Really.) And, in a sign from the deity if ever there was one, it turned out that the recipe called for exactly the number of tomatoes I had and all of the other ingredients were in the pantry, so no trip to the store was required.

Basically the same concept as a chicken pot pie only using tomatoes, it's a brilliant idea and one that would lend itself to a multitude of fillings and variations on the crust. Which is a nice way to remember a summer romance, don't you think?

Tomato Cobbler
Adapted from How to Cook Everything Vegetarianby Mark Bittman

For the filling:
3 lbs. tomatoes (8-10 med.), roughly chopped (a combination of colors is gorgeous)
1 c. sundried tomatoes, roughly chopped (optional)
1 Tbsp. cornstarch

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the crust:

1-1 1/2 c. flour, plus more for rolling out dough

1 c. cornmeal

1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt
4 Tbsp. (1/2 stick) butter or margarine, frozen, cut into large pieces
1 egg, beaten

3/4 c. buttermilk or milk
1 c. sharp cheddar, grated, optional
1 c. corn kernels, optional

Preheat the oven to 375˚.

Put the tomatoes and sundried tomatoes (if using) in a 9" by 12" baking dish and sprinkle with the cornstarch and some salt and pepper. Toss gently to combine.

Put the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a food processor and pulse to combine. Add the butter or margarine and pulse a few times until the mixture looks like coarse bread crumbs. Add the egg and buttermilk and pulse a few times more, until the mixture comes together in a ball. If the mixture doesn’t come together, add a spoonful or two of flour. If the mixture is too dry, add a few drops of buttermilk.

Turn out dough onto floured board. Mix in cheese and corn (if using) by hand, flattening and shaping into the approximate size of the baking dish. Place on top of tomatoes. You can also drop spoonfuls of the batter on top and smooth a bit with a knife. Bake 45-50 minutes, until golden on top and bubbly underneath. Cool to just barely warm or room temperature. To serve, scoop servings out with a large spoon.

Bitten Again

Mark Bittman must be a really busy guy. Aside from his weekly Minimalist column in the New York Times, he has a very active blog, regular speaking engagements that take him around the country and one of the hottest apps on iTunes based on his book, "How to Cook Everything."Not that he had much to do with the app…it was written right here in Portland by my friend, fab programmer and co-founder of Culinate.com, James Berry.

He used to have his own blog on the New York Times site, Bitten, but it's since been mooshed in with the newspaper's other food blogs and retitled Diner's Journal. (One might wonder if the Grey Lady was a little jealous of his traffic numbers and wanted to draft off his success. But I digress.)

Our own black cherry tomatoes simmering to perfection.

I've referenced Bittman's recipes multiple times on this blog, and realized recently that there was one that I hadn't told you about. It's one of my favorite easy dinners, especially during tomato season, and it calls for garlic, anchovies and cherry tomatoes. Yes, really, just three ingredients. Well, and pasta to put it on, optional red pepper flakes for zing and some grated parmesan. But it's that simple sauce that's the beauty part, rich and flavorful and the perfect combination of comfort and freshness.

Pasta with Cherry Tomatoes, Anchovies and Garlic

Adapted from Mark Bittman's recipe for the New York Times

Salt
1/4 cup extra virgin olive oil
10 garlic cloves, peeled
2 or 3 dried red chiles, optional
20 anchovy fillets, more or less [I usually use 1 tin, drained]
2 cups halved cherry tomatoes
Freshly ground black pepper
1 pound cut pasta, like penne
Chopped fresh parsley leaves for garnish
Grated parmesan 

Bring a large pot of water to a boil and salt it. Put olive oil in a medium skillet over medium heat; a minute later, add garlic and chiles, if using. Cook garlic so it bubbles gently. When it is lightly browned all over, add anchovies. Cook, stirring occasionally, for about a minute, until anchovies begin to fall apart, then add tomatoes. Adjust heat so tomatoes bubble nicely, and cook until mixture becomes saucy, about 5 minutes. Taste and add salt and pepper as necessary.

Meanwhile, cook pasta until tender but not mushy. When it is done, drain it, reserving a little cooking water to thin sauce if necessary. Pour sauce over pasta, sprinkle with parsley and serve with parmesan alongside.

Asian Inflection

In an alternate universe, my comfort food of choice would be kimchi, made the way my mother learned it from her mother and aged the way it had been for generations in big clay urns on the roof of our house. Or maybe the tastes I crave would be fish sauce-tinged, burning with the heat of the little hot peppers my father grew in his garden outside our front door, the seeds brought from his mother's garden in her village in the mountains.

This particular fantasy assumes that there would be culinary skills passed down to me from my (imaginary) mother or grandmother, recipes peculiar to her village or region. But, alas, my white bread mid-century upbringing brought with it a knowledge of potato-chip crusted tuna casserole and pot roast rather than Bun Tom Thit Nurong. Sigh.

Browning the meat in the spices.

So I, like Blanche DuBois, am left to the kindness of strangers when I need my Asian fix, in this case the estimable skills of Mark Bittman, himself the child of Jewish parents who has moved beyond the borders of that cuisine to adopt those of other cultures. His coconut braised beef, for example, first published in 2005 and then again just a week or so ago, is a brilliant adaptation for braised chuck roast with a Thai twist. Its inclusion of chiles, lime zest, coconut milk, garlic and ginger is as near as I've come to the real thing, made from ingredients I usually have available.

Maybe it's time to sign up for that cooking class in Vietnam. What do you think?

Coconut Braised Beef
Adapted from Mark Bittman, The New York Times' The Minimalist

2 hot dried red chilies
3 garlic cloves, peeled
1 1/2" piece ginger, peeled and roughly chopped
1 Tbps. chili powder (I used 1 dried aci sivri pepper)
1/4-1/2 tsp. fish sauce
Juice and zest of 2 limes, or 2 Tbsp. rice or other mild vinegar
2 Tbsp. canola, grapeseed or other neutral oil
2 lbs. beef, preferably chuck, cut into 1-inch cubes
2 c. coconut milk (or 1 can, about 1 1/2 cups, plus 1/2 cup water)
Salt to taste

Put chiles, garlic, ginger, chili powder, fish sauce, lime juice and zest in bowl of a food processor, and process until everything is minced, or mince by hand and combine.

Heat oil over medium-high heat in a skillet that can later be covered. Add spice paste and cook, stirring occasionally, until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add beef, and cook, stirring occasionally, until browned and covered with sauce.

Pour in coconut milk, and bring mixture to a boil. Lower heat, cover, and simmer, stirring only occasionally (but making sure mixture is simmering very slowly, with just a few bubbles at a time breaking the surface) until meat is extremely tender, at least an hour and possibly closer to 2.

Uncover and cook until sauce is very thick and caramel-colored, stirring frequently so it does not brown. Season to taste with salt, and serve with white rice.

Corny Salad

Some foods are perfectly matched to their seasons. Lamb shanks in the fall, beans and sausage in the winter, pasta with young greens in the spring.

So when I saw this recipe for a corn and tomato salad in Mark Bittman's Minimalist column in a recent New York Times, I knew it was going to appear at dinner soon. Then a friend gave us several ears of her sweet homegrown corn and it was clear the time had come.

Easy, tasty, and totally company dinner-worthy, it's a perfect side dish or, with a loaf of crusty bread, it could be a meal all by itself. You can watch a video of Bitty making it here.

Pan-Roasted Corn and Tomato Salad
From Mark Bittman, the New York Times Minimalist column

1/4 lb. bacon, chopped
1 small red onion, chopped
4 to 6 ears corn, stripped of their kernels (2 to 3 cups)
Juice of 1 lime, or more to taste
2 c. cored and chopped tomatoes
1 med. ripe avocado, pitted, peeled and chopped
2 fresh small chilies, like Thai, seeded and minced (I used poblano)
Salt and black pepper
1/2 c. chopped fresh cilantro

Cook bacon in a large skillet over medium-high heat until it begins to render fat; add onion and cook until just softened, about 5 minutes, then add corn. Continue cooking, stirring or shaking pan occasionally, until corn begins to brown a bit, about 5 more minutes; remove from heat and let cool for a few minutes. Drain fat if you wish.

Put lime juice in a large bowl and add bacon-corn mixture; then toss with remaining ingredients. Taste, adjust the seasoning and serve warm or at room temperature.

Winter Warmer

To the tune of Let It Snow, with apologies to Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne:

When the weather outside is frightful,You can make a meal that's delightful.
Just cook something low and slow
And let it snow, let it snow, let it snow!

With the accumulated snowage rapidly approaching a crazy foot and a half here in Portland and the relentless drumbeat of Christmas throbbing in my ears, I'm deep in comfort mode. And around here that means chunks of meat and vegetables simmered for hours in stock and wine. So when I saw a recipe for a beef stew with prunes on Mark Bittman's blog, Bitten, I knew it would come in handy this week.

Skijoring in Vermont. My question is: they see a bunny, then what?

His recipe called for chuck which, like pork shoulder, oxtail, ham hocks and other "less-desirable" cuts of meat, can feed a crowd (or be eaten over several days) for not much money without sacrificing on the flavor front. Plus, when the social luster of your family is wearing thin after being house-bound for a week together and you run into your neighbors skijoring through the streets with their dogs, you'll have this in your back pocket to lure them to your dinner table.

Beef Stew With Prunes

3 Tbsp. olive oil
2 lbs. lean boneless beef, preferably chuck, in 2-inch cubes
Salt and pepper to taste
1 onion, peeled and chopped
3 plum tomatoes, stemmed and chopped (canned are fine)
1 tsp. sweet paprika, more to taste
1 cinnamon stick
1 bay leaf
1 c. chicken stock
1 c. dry red wine
2 Tbsp. sugar
1 c. pitted prunes
1 Tbsp. sherry vinegar or other vinegar, or to taste
Chopped parsley leaves for garnish

Place a deep skillet or casserole that can be covered over medium-high heat, and add oil. Brown meat well on all sides, seasoning with salt and pepper, for 10 minutes; remove with a slotted spoon.

In same pot over medium-high heat, sauté onion and tomatoes with a large pinch of salt and some pepper. When they soften, about 5 minutes, stir in paprika, cinnamon, and bay leaf. Return meat to pan, and add stock and wine; bring to a boil, then lower heat, cover, and simmer for 30 minutes. If mixture starts to dry, add a little water or stock.

Remove cinnamon and bay leaf, and stir in sugar and prunes. Simmer until prunes and meat are soft, another 30 to 45 minutes. (Dish can be made in advance to this point; let sit for a few hours, or cover and refrigerate for up to a day before reheating and proceeding.) When meat is very tender, uncover pot and add vinegar; if necessary, raise heat so sauce thickens and becomes glossy. Season to taste with salt and pepper, and serve hot, garnished with parsley. Excellent with polenta, couscous or saffron rice.

Commented On

As I've mentioned before, I love Mark Bittman's blog, Bitten, on the New York Times website.

His approach to food is thoughtful, simple and matter-of-fact while putting a premium on flavor. It's one of the few food blogs that I check on almost every day, and I leave the occasional comment. Well, today one of those comments was chosen as one of the "Comments of the Moment" on his front page. Woo hoo!

Jammin' with Mark

I've said it before, I'll say it again: I love Mark Bittman's approach to food. It's not fussy, it's not complicated, it's not full of the smoke-and-mirrors stuff you see in books and on TV where celebrity chefs are more about impressing you with their huge egos than teaching you how to cook great food.

So this post on his blog caught my eye in a big way, and you can bet this jam is going to be appearing on a pantry shelf near us in the very near future. Plus you can watch the video to see how the man himself does it!

Tomato Jam

1 1/2 lbs. good ripe tomatoes(Roma are best), cored and coarsely chopped
1 c. sugar
2 Tbsp. freshly squeezed lime juice
1 Tbsp. fresh grated or minced ginger
1 tsp. ground cumin
1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/8 tsp. ground cloves
1 tsp. salt
1 jalapeño or other peppers, stemmed, seeded and minced, or red pepper flakes or cayenne to taste.

Combine all ingredients in a heavy medium saucepan. Bring to a boil over medium heat, stirring often. Reduce heat and simmer, stirring occasionally, until mixture has consistency of thick jam, about 1 hour 15 minutes. Taste and adjust seasoning, then cool and refrigerate until ready to use; this will keep at least a week.

Yield: About 1 pint.

Photo from NYTimes.com

Ssssssssssmokin'!

You know how just last month I was raving in a post about a Puerto Rican pork dish that we made after seeing it in Mark Bittman's NYT column? You can completely flush that one, because we've done old Marky-Mark one better.

Here's the deal: You take a large, and I mean around 10 lbs., bone-in pork shoulder. You make the pernil sauce and rub it all over that shoulder. Then get out the Cook'n Ca'jun, crank up the fire and lay that hunk of pig on the grill. Then about, oh, say, eight hours later, after you've had a beer (or so), kept the fire stoked with coals and hardwood, filled the water bowl a couple of times and turned the meat once or twice, you check it.

And there, right before your very eyes, is the smokiest, loveliest chunk of roasted pork you've ever seen. Caramelized and black on the outside, juicy and tender inside with the legendary "smoke ring" that barbecuers live for.

This is truly a "best and highest use" of the holy pig we've ever had the pleasure to prepare, not to mention consume, and bodes well for summer dining. If, like me, you live to see your guests' eyes roll back in their heads and have them fall off their chairs moaning like they're possessed, you've got to try this.

Pure Pork

Speaking of Mr. Bittman, we have him to thank, at least partially, for the fantastic dinner we had last night. We'd invited four friends over for dinner to celebrate the start of one couple's new venture and, because of a proclivity for the pig shown by most of them, decided to make the Puerto Rican dish called pernil.

When I first read the recipe in Bittman's column and subsequently watched the podcast, I knew it would be appearing at dinner, and soon. But my brother, who was equally intrigued (and is equally pork-centric), decided to make it for the dinner he'd offered to cook for my birthday. Being the self-sacrificing person I am (and, incidentally, never ever looking a gift meal in the mouth, especially one made by him), I didn't whine that I'd wanted to make it first. So I watched and took notes instead.

As the video makes perfectly clear, this is one of the simplest dishes to prepare and perhaps one of the cheapest. It calls for processing onions and spices to a paste, then smearing it all over the meat. Stick it in the oven with a little water for six hours and it's fall-off-the-bone tender and delicious. The cost for an 8 1/2-pound bone-in pork shoulder was just under $17 and made enough for seven with lots of leftovers. Incredible!

And a note on the wine that R generously contributed. Its label had badly deteriorated in a humidity-related incident, but you could still make out that it was a bottle of 2004 Saint Joseph Offerus, a Rhone valley syrah from producer J.L. Chave. Drinking perfectly, this came off more like a Burgundy with loads of fruit and finesse, subtly developing the spicy, peppery notes that Rhones are known for as it opened up over the course of the dinner. Terrific stuff, and fit the flavors in the meat like a glove.

Oh, and the sides were very simple, just fingerling potatoes roasted with garlic, salt and pepper and olive oil, and a simple green salad with balsamic-and-mustard vinaigrette. I can tell you we're going to be looking up lots more recipes for this cut of meat, and it'll be starring in many dishes this summer, especially considering the new toy that Dave picked up.

Pernil

1 pork shoulder, 4-7 lbs.
4 or more cloves garlic, peeled
1 large onion, quartered
2 Tbsp. fresh oregano leaves or 1 Tbsp. dried
1 Tbsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. ancho or other mild chili powder
1 Tbsp. salt
2 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
Olive oil as needed
1 Tbsp. wine or cider vinegar
Lime wedges for serving.

Heat oven to 300 degrees. Score meat's skin with a sharp knife, making a cross-hatch pattern. Pulse garlic, onion, oregano, cumin, chili, salt and pepper together in a food processor, adding oil in a drizzle and scraping down sides as necessary, until mixture is pasty. (Alternatively, mash ingredients in a mortar and pestle.) Blend in the vinegar.

Rub this mixture into pork, getting it into every nook and cranny. Put pork in a roasting pan and film bottom with water. Roast pork for several hours (a 4-lb. shoulder may be done in 3 hours) [as mentioned above, my 8 1/2 lb. shoulder took 6 hrs. - KAB], turning every hour or so and adding more water as necessary, until meat is very tender. Finish roasting with the skin side up until crisp, raising heat at end of cooking if necessary.

Let meat rest for 10 to 15 minutes before cutting it up; meat should be so tender that cutting it into uniform slices is almost impossible; rather, whack it up into chunks. Serve with lime.

Yield: At least 6 servings.

Bittman's Blogging

Here at the homestead we are all up ons about Mark Bittman. He's been doing his Minimalist column in the NYT Dining section for several years, preaching that good food doesn't have to be complicated or time-consuming to prepare. And for the last few months he's also been doing a (near-) weekly video podcast. In these five-or-so-minute-long videos, he demonstrates the recipe that he wrote about in his column that week, and they are uniformly engaging and informative.

And as different from typical food TV fare as you can get. Not only are they filmed casually, he makes messes and even the occasional gaffe which, like my personal goddess of the kitchen, Julia Child, he uses to show that mistakes happen and they're not fatal.

Now he's even started a blog where he discusses various food topics and recipes, as well as his travels, and (gasp!) even answers comments. I'll be putting it on my feed list, and I'll keep you posted if anything intriguing pops up.