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Posts Tagged ‘Vermont locavore’

I spotted a forager at the Farmers’ Market in Hanover.  He was busy behind another farmer’s stand, borrowing the scale to weigh his haul of early chanterelles.   He divvied out the cache of beatifully gouda-colored fungi into straw baskets.  $8 each.  6 hours of foraging had yielded six baskets, he told me.  I’m sure those six baskets were picked up in a flash, after which he probably ducked back into the woods.

chants

When cooking, they smell, and then taste, of nuts and apricots, earth and sunlit woods, fruity wine.

Lacking rabbit, I’ll cook them up and toss them over chicken.  Sauté until they release their juices, in butter, with pancetta, herbs, and minced shallot.  Maybe a few pinenuts.

Rosé…

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Pork chops, like buttercups, are my Proustian objects.  At the taste of a chop, especially one brined in cider or served with applesauce, I’m back on Old City Falls Road, at the big yellow house in Strafford, Vermont.  Up the steep hill behind the house and barn—a catch-all space housing tools, lumber, a VW bus, my Dad’s darkroom, a sauna—was the pond where I learned to swim and skate, and the pig pen.  My parents, on the run from suburbia back to the land, had set up a small homestead with a vegetable garden, chickens, pigs, a goat, and two little girls running around in Wonder Woman Underoos in January, because the wood stove kept the living room so hot.

The pigs, Gruntly Squatwell and Squatly Gruntwell, were contented animals until that particular date when my uncle and a few other guys would show up in their pickup trucks for the big pig roundup.  Then the pigs ran around and around their pen squealing for their lives, though they didn’t know it.

The result was a freezer full of pork.  For some reason, I remember the chops best of all.  Sweetish and salty, for me the essence of pork—until I tasted pancetta, but that’s a different kind of experience.  The best, more recent, pork chops I’ve had were grilled by our friend Donia, the energetic and lovely Palo Alto chef and writer.  Her cooking—whether in her restaurant or home—is less a performance than an expression of her nurturing nature.  The food is loved and cared for, as are the friends she feeds.

The technique here is so simple, it barely warrants the formalization of a recipe, but here goes:

Donia’s Pork Chops

In the morning, place four thick-cut bone-in pork chops (organic if possible) in a large baking dish, and pour in a fruity red wine—a Beaujolais, or a zinfandel, perhaps—just to cover them.  Turn them over once or twice during the day.  Just before grilling—preferably over charcoal—season them liberally with salt and pepper.  Grill to mid-rare over moderate heat.  Throw some perfectly ripe buttered halved peaches onto the grill too, for a taste sensation.  Donia also served cornbread and salad, outside on the deck.  What a memorable meal!

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This is a delicious side dish which is also very pretty.  These beets are sweet, as their name implies, and decorative, like Victorian stencilling.  Slice them horizontally to see the concentric pink and cream circles.  These organic beets are from Killdeer Farm.

chioggia

Dolce di Chioggia and Carrots

a small side for 4

Slice 8-10 Dolce di Chioggia beets 2 mm. thin–or even thinner if you have a mandoline.
Slice carrots on the diagonal to the same width.
Melt 1-2 tbs. butter in a large saute pan.
Slide in the beets and carrots and saute on high for a minute, then reduce heat and cover. Season with salt and pepper.  Cook over low-moderate heat until fork-tender.
Toss in a splash of red or white wine vinegar and a handful of chopped parsley.

Serve as a side with grilled chicken.

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We had the most delicious meal last night.  Sauteed broccoli raab, beet greens, and green garlic from Killdeer, polenta, and spicy grass fed beef sausages.  After our morning with the Jersey cows at Thistle Hill in North Pomfret, Vermont, yesterday, we drove up and down the winding roads and along River Road in search of more cows—this time the black Angus steers of Cloudland Farm.

cloudland steers
“Cloudland” is an appropriate name for the farm at the top of the mountain road of the same name.  There are some long tunnels of trees along this climb that then break open into gorgeous vistas.  Before the twentieth century, the whole hill was most likely a cloudland—open pastures that seemed to touch the sky, for sheep and cattle and countless stone walls.  New growth forest has filled in some of this land, but Cloudland Farm still maintains a thousand acres of pastureland for its herd of grass fed steers.  (They’ve farmed this land for one hundred years.)  Like the population of grazing animals, that of farming families has thinned over the decades, too.  This empty hilltop school is evidence of a once-thriving community:

cloudland school
(The bigger Pomfret school down in the valley is underenrolled, now.  Old farmhouses are being bought up by wealthy non-farmers whose kids have already grown up and stayed in the cities.)

While I shopped around in their farm store, Jack and his cousin stood in the driveway admiring all of the vehicular activity. There was a big John Deere tractor, a skid steer, two ATVs, and a kid-sized pedal tractor.  The boys were happy.

cloudland sign
So was I.  I bought a whole variety of frozen beef, and started thinking about dinner.  Outside, the sun was streaming down at intervals between the big cumulonimbus clouds that have covered this region for over a month, drenching it again and again.  Bill Emmons, the Cloudland farmer, was talking about how little haying he’s been able to do, because of the constant rain.  He was enjoying the chit-chat, but was also twitching to get away and grab this sunny moment to hay.  “I hope I remember how,” he joked.

Visit their website here.

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Named for the wily, widespread species of bird, Killdeer Farmstand, on Route 5 in Norwich, is one of my favorite places.  The organic farm of the same name, just a few miles away on the Vermont bank of the Connecticut River, supplies the most dependable abundance of produce.  We stop there almost daily.  Yesterday, it was our first stop after arriving back in VT from Cape Cod.  The first raspberries were in, along with the first green garlic, and there were loads of new potatoes, zucchini, squash, peas, a vast variety of greens.  Scapes will be gone soon, but they still had a big basketful, so I bought a bunch and made more scape mashed potatoes.  Yum!  Sometimes we make an entirely Killdeer meal.  The farmstand also offers Misty Knoll organic chicken, lots of local cheeses and ice creams, some meat, King Arthur bread, and cookies.   Soon, they’ll have sweet corn.

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scapes bin at the Norwich Farmers' Market

scapes bin at the Norwich Farmers' Market

I love garlic mashed potatoes.  Possibly even more delicious are mashed potatoes made with garlic scapes.  Last night, I boiled about a pound of new red and gold potatoes (skin on).  I tossed four curlicues of garlic scapes (1 per person) into the boiling water for a minute, just to soften them up a bit.  Then I roughly diced and minced them.  When the potatoes were fork tender, I used a hand-masher to blend in the scapes, milk, 2 tbs. of butter, salt and pepper.  The result was delicious, and as pretty as a pile of potatoes can be: creamy white flecked with green and pink, and tasting of the freshest garlic.  I love whole roasted bulbs of garlic, with that deep nutty caramelized flavor, mashed into potatoes.  This was different.  Garlicky, but greener, grassier, springy.

The only problem was that I made too few.  Everyone wanted more potatoes.

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wagon

Strawberries were the totems of childhood today, at Cedar Circle Farm’s 7th annual strawberry festival.  Of the milling, stooping, picking, licking population, about two-thirds were fewer than four feet tall.  Many wore the totem on their shirts, hats, or cheeks. The folks at Cedar Circle make this day as much a celebration of childhood as of strawberries and local food in general.  There were three horse-drawn wagons, a mural-drawing section of the barn wall, a coloring station, face-painting teenage girls, a sandbox, strawberry smoothies and shortcake, coffee for the parents, puppetry, kite-making, tractors to sit on, and live music.  And, of course, picking.

tractors

wagon ride

We hit the face-painting table first; the boys both got trucks.

my son, the sceptic

my son, the sceptic

cheek truck

Then we walked around the food stations.  There were local sausages from Hogwash Farm on the grill, organic pizzas cooking in a wood-oven on wheels, and strawberry shortcake with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream from Strafford Organic Creamery.  In honor of this berry, which has been cultivated since medieval times, everything was very forward-looking.  The food was served on compostable dishes with compostable utensils; there was a complex trash station.  Near the coloring table there was a photo-and-text display (a low-tech, stop-time PowerPoint presentation hung with clothespins) about “The Real Costs of Cheap Food”, which included descriptions of chemicals that flow and leach from non-organic farms into ground water, lakes, and rivers, and a definition of food miles (how far a food travels from farm to table, with the fossil fuels required a big consideration), and some charming spelling errors.  There was also a photo-narrative of strawberry growing, from bed preparation during the winter to picking in June.  This display included lots of pictures with hay around the edges, in the middle, and present as a general tone (hay keeps down the weeds) as well as shots of very tan, lightly clad interns happily working the dirt.

real cost

Cedar Circle grows eight varieties of strawberries, and an array of vegetables—all certified organic.

and flowers

and flowers

My mom and I, with the occasional help of Jack and his cousin Jeremiah who preferred sitting on tractors, and my sister, Bridget, who helped them up and down the tractor steps, picked four pounds of berries.  We chose two varieties: Wendy, known by its petite size and light sweetness, and Mesabi, which is bigger, and almost raspberry-like in flavor. The plants were so high that lifting the leaves to look for spots of red was like opening the curtains—in a doll’s house.  The pleasure of discovery became addictive.  It’s hard to stop, even when the basket’s full!

Strawberries fresh off the stem, warmed by the sun, melted into juice in an instant in our mouths.  There were many worshippers.

worshippers

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On our way home from the strawberry festival, after driving through the little downtown of Norwich in which all was quiet (it’s Sunday) except for Dan & Whit’s general store (“If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.”), we drove up Turnpike Road, kept going until it turned to dirt, and saw a sign: “eggs.”   We slowed down, and stopped at the table where a young neighbor was selling eggs and chocolate chunk cookies.

eggs 4 sale
We bought a dozen eggs and two cookies.  The eggs came from two breeds of chicken: New Hampshire Reds and Araucana.  The Araucana’s eggs are a pale greenish blue.  I boiled two for lunch, and found when I peeled them that the inner shells are a deeper turquoise.  The yolks were the color of black-eyed Susan petals.

My parents’ house is about a half-mile further on Turnpike Road.  It’s satisfying to eat a lunch so fresh, and in hues I’d love to paint.

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Saturday morning, Norwich Farmers’ Market.  We got there too late for the golden beets: I saw the last bunch go at 10:15.  Maybe next week….

peas

But oh, the potatoes and peas!  The Fairlee, Vermont farm, coyly called “Your Farm,” had baskets upon baskets of sugar snap peas–the kind you can eat right off the vine, pod and all.  Jack was working it like a boiled, salted edamame pod, but was happy finally to eat the whole thing.

eating pea

These peas taste so good raw, they may not last until later, when I’ll make a salad of new potatoes, scapes, herbs and peas.  New potatoes are here in abundance: they are so tender and waxy it’s almost tempting to eat them raw, but lightly boiled will agree with tummies much better. I bought a couple of pounds at the Hurricane Flats farm stand.  (This farm is located on the banks of the beautiful White River, a tributary of the Connecticut, in South Royalton, VT.)

potatoes

New Potato Salad

Potatoes are a blank slate, upon which a thousand personalities can be written.  Bacon is always a good friend to potatoes, as are peas, corn, green beans, and fresh herbs like dill, tarragon, thyme, and parsley.   Caraway seeds are interesting additions to a potato salad dressed generously with a dijon-based vinaigrette.  Here’s what I’ll do with my potatoes, scapes, and maybe peas, today.

Boil potatoes until fork-tender.  Quarter them, and toss with a spoonful of vinegar (red wine, champagne, or cider are good) and two spoonfuls of extra virgin olive oil, salt and pepper. (The quantities depend on how many potatoes you have; they should be dressed but not dripping.)

Then, add some crisped bacon/pancetta/prosciutto bits, and any combination of the above suggested veggies and herbs.  Today, I’m also going to add some lightly sauteed, then smashed, garlic scapes.

Let the salad sit and steep for awhile, and serve warm or chilled.

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Gorgeous green curlicues, Watteauesque arabesques…

scapes
Not to be confused with green garlic (long spring stalks with the bulbs attached) or ramps (wild leeks, whose season is earlier), scapes are the seed pod portion of the garlic plant that must be culled before they harden and pale from green to beige.  Snipping them helps the garlic bulb below fatten up.  Scapes’ season is fleeting, their flavor mere essence, evanescence.

Unlike the stronger-tasting bulbs, mild scapes can stand alone: blanched and tossed on a salad or ground into a pesto; sautéed with baby bok choy and thrown together with noodles; mixed in sneakily with green beans for an added dimension of flavor.

At the Hanover farmers’ market on Wednesday afternoon, I bought a small bunch.  Last night, my mom diced scapes and added them to her summery corn and edamame salad.  The night before, I sautéed them with local greens in a dish I make frequently, which is based on yaki-soba.  Here’s the recipe:

Garlicky Noodles and Greens
Serves 4

1 package soba (buckwheat) noodles
1 lb. fresh spinach, washed and torn up
2 heads baby bok choy, roughly chopped
5 garlic scapes, chopped
1 lb. flank steak or chicken breast, sliced
2 tbs. sesame oil
2 tbs. mirin
2 tbs. soy sauce
Thai hot sauce
Lime slices

In a small bowl, combine oil, mirin, and soy sauce; set aside. Sauté the meat until mid-rare, and set aside.  In the same pan, with a bit more oil, cook the greens and scapes, covered, over moderate heat.  After a few minutes, remove the lid, to let the water evaporate.  Meanwhile, bring a large pot of water to a boil, add the soba noodles, and cook for 5 minutes.  Drain, and pour into a warmed serving bowl.  Just before serving, put the meat back in the pan with the greens to re-warm.  Combine greens & meat with noodles, pour the sauce over, and toss to coat.  Add hot sauce and lime juice individually to taste.

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