Green Bean Casserole, Redux

I just realized that Thanksgiving is next week, not two or three weeks in the future as I had somehow convinced myself. Luckily I contacted my turkey connection this last week, congratulating myself for being so ahead of the game. (Oops!) So now the long list of possible sides is being compiled, to be added to the "must haves" of turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy and pie, and the voting and deal-making is getting fierce. Real Good Food contributor Jim Dixon's recipe for reconstructed green bean casserole, using still-in-season foraged chanterelles, is high on the list.

Green Bean "Casserole"

I can't eat the old school version anymore, but I came up with this homage that provides the same flavors but tastes much better. If you can get chanterelles, use them, but any mushrooms will work.

Slice a pound of mushrooms and put them in a skillet with some salt but no added fat [or oil] over medium high heat. The mushrooms will start giving up water right away, and you want to cook them in their own juices until it's almost gone before adding a generous drizzle of extra virgin olive oil. (If we're having the usual November weather, chanterelles can be very wet, and this technique concentrates the flavor and improves the texture. It also works with most mushrooms.)

After you add the oil, add a finely chopped shallot and a good shot of dry sherry (a good fino is perfect). Let that bubble away for a few minutes, then add a pound of green beans that you've cooked in boiling, salted water for 3 minutes and drained. Pour in about a half cup of heavy cream, bring to a boil, and cook for a maybe 5 minutes or until the cream has thickened and the beans are tender. Adjust the salt, add some black pepper if you feel like it, and serve topped with crispy fried onions from a can (Lars is a Danish brans sold at New Seasons that's better then the ubiquitous French's). You could make your own or substitute bread crumbs or nuts, but I think some kind of crunchy topping is required. Have a great Thanksgiving.

In Season NW: Taking Full Advantage

I'm kind of getting the gist of this zombie apocalypse that seems to be the meme of the moment.

What? You haven't heard of millions of the undead rising from their graves from…fill in the blank here…radiation, a rogue virus, too much TV, whatever, to attack and, usually, eat the brains of uninfected humans who then become zombies themselves. This army of the undead then threatens to take over the world unless, and here comes the kicker, some plucky someone or group of same stops them. Yay for Earth!

Carbonara with padrons? Delicious!

The reason I'm getting that "imminent apocalypse" twinge is because almost everyone I know seems infected by the need to can, preserve, pickle, dehydrate, freeze or otherwise squirrel away every last fish, tomato, peach, mushroom, pepper or meat they meet. The number of people I know who have bought hot water-bath canners, dehydrators, kraut crocks and pressure canners is positively mind-boggling.

Tomato bean salad.

I'm finding it kind of intimidating, if you must know. I mean, I've done my fair share of syrup-making, tomato roasting and pig-butchering, but this mad dash to preserve every last shred of summer is a little obsessive. I can only imagine what it must be like for folks who don't have the wherewithal to do any or even a little.

Niçoise, anyone?

So here's my point: I'm putting out a call to simply enjoy the fruits (or peppers or tomatoes or corn) of the season right now, at their peak of ripeness and freshness. Of course you can preserve to your heart's content if you're able, but really, the best way to enjoy the richness of the harvest is, not surprisingly, right when it's harvested.

Stuffed poblano egg casserole.

To that end, I've been throwing padrons from Viridian Farms into carbonara, green beans into salads, tomatoes into pasta and shallots into salad dressings. Basil from the garden has gone into pesto, peppers have been stuffed and baked into an egg casserole and albacore loins have been grilled till they're black and blue. As Dean Martin once crooned, it's the stuff memories are made of, and the memories I'll be calling up when the rains return this winter. Not to mention those that I'll be looking forward to remaking next harvest season.

Get the recipes for the tomato tart (top photo), carbonara (throw the padrons in after the bacon has rendered its fat) and the tomato and green bean salad.