Go to the Farmers' Market

I used to think going to the farmer's market was a fun, field-trip kind of experience. And then I read more and did the math of how expensive places like Whole Foods add up to be without necessarily offering better quality, and realized that for my money I prefer to support actual people as much as possible. I still get some things from WF and other places, but I really enjoy talking recipes and details with the farmers and walking stall to stall to see whose daily lot looks the most alive and why... I guess you could say that connecting to the growers helps me appreciate the food I'm going to prepare later at home.

The market is more fun than ever, now a weekly excursion - and even more frequent sometimes, to see growers I miss on other days. I've built it into my to-do pattern as a way of living, incorporating into my life the freshest fresh, seasonal foods. These photographs are the bountiful array from last week's trip at the Union Square Market in New York. Check online for your local farmers' market - almost every city and town has one, if not a few! If you are linked to a CSA  - community supported agriculture - even better. :)

We got our strawberries from Mountain Sweet Berry Farm and our eggs from Violet Hill Farm. The mushrooms are from Bulich Mushroom Farm; the pork chops from Flying Pigs; thanks to Hudson Valley Organic Gardens for the mung sprouts, and our radishes came from S&SO Produce. The mutsu apples are from Nemeth Orchards; our plants - the zinnias, are from Van Houten Farms, and the basil is from Nature's Healing Farm; the cheese is a sheep's milk aged gouda style and found at Valley Shepherd, and our cream-top whole milk is from Milk Thistle Farm. After collecting all these goodies and with our bags filled to the brim with as much as we could carry, we decided it was time to return home and begin the feast!

With local and personal in mind, I want to offer you a sneak preview of my next post... I am eager to share with you an interview I made with none other than the great food writer Betty Fussell, who has written stories on America's love affair with (and the history of) corn and beef, amongst many, many other things. She is an amazing person, and someone I am honored to call a dear friend. Please stay tuned for this very special story.

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Satisfying, Simple Eating

I am a big fan of throwing food together in a matter of moments. Sure, I love to go all out with pies, roasts, and other feats in the kitchen, but it is the simple creations that sometimes make time stop in its tracks with their small brilliance. This dish is exactly that. BIG on satisfying flavor, while - after the prepping of the artichokes - taking only a small effort to execute.

Artichokes are one of the esoteric vegetables, right up there with kohlrabi. That isn't to say that I don't enjoy it (because I adore it!), I just mean that I have to prepare with a capital "p" when I want to incorporate it into any dining plans. When I was a child, my mom would make steamed artichokes with an "aioli" for dipping. As part of the new wave of nutrition-minded mothers, she made our aioli out of yogurt, lemon juice, and a touch of store bought mayo. Not bad, actually. I remember relishing the ceremonial aspect of eating this strange & prickly vegetable: layer-after-layer, eating the flesh off the edge of each leaf, and all the discarded leaves piled in square metal saucers my mom would provide. Then came the dramatic finale of digging out the hairy choke so we could indulge in the tender heart. It was certainly eating with deliberateness.

In my recipe I have left the ceremony to the enjoyment of many elements together, like you with your beloveds and some good red wine. I've used baby artichokes (with some modification, you can use regular ones), and after trimming some of the tougher exterior parts and then braising them, you can eat the whole thing....yum!

 

If you like artichokes in any way - from your mother's cooking or recipes of your own - then make this! You will love it. And when all you have left is the braising liquid, use it as a sauce over pasta or add it to your favorite marinara or stew. Every element contributes new bounty - now dig in. :)

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Amazing Tsukiji Market, and a Guest Blog Appearance

Please tell me that you are still loving the photographs from Japan. Because, while it is becoming a cherished memory further in the depths of my mind, there are some incredible images yet to share. 

While traveling and since I've been back, I have been cooking up a treat for you all with a lovely woman halfway around the world. She is passionate about delicious foods and the photography that captures them so well. Sarka hails from Prague and currently lives in London, and has a penchant for a lot of the things that speak to my own heart (and after this long day, red wine is front and center!). Realizing that we have a lot in common, she invited me to guest blog, and today, one of my most incredible experiences while in Japan is shared here and at her blog, Cook your Dreams. We both hope you enjoy this shared adventure!

Which brings me to the phenomenon that is Tsukiji (pronounced "tskee-jee") Market in Tokyo. I'd taken a trip there before and marveled at the endless stalls of exotic and alien creatures. Many fresh from the kill, and still many others kept alive in filtered temporary quarters boxed in styrofoam, until their ends would come too. I can say in both experiences that walking through the wet, bustling aisles was a fascinating, gruesome, and humbling experience. Oh, and freezing. It escapes me to understand how these men and women survive countless hours in a day (for their lifetimes, mind you) in this wet, chilly stadium-market. One of the many enigmas of this incredible place....

Dried goods were part of an outdoor secondary market encircling the stadium

These were alive and moving...

Fresh clams

Left, the man occasionally placed his hands on that teapot to keep warm. Right, fresh tuna.

Carting away tuna heads

Left, 4-foot lengths of frozen tuna waiting to be carted. Right, discards.

After hours wandering around, I couldn't feel my fingers or toes. Small price to pay to witness the whirring kerosene-powered foot trucks; the careful and expert butchering of mollusks and tuna; the late-morning banter amongst colleagues, a sure sign that their work day was near its end and that the customary communal meal was next. 

J and I were starving, even through the empathy and pity we felt towards these incredible creatures. At one stall, a smiling older gentleman (pictured in the red jacket, well above) offered us advice on where to go for some of the best sushi we would ever have. And though numb and ravenous, we managed to find it and wait in a line that made satisfaction a further forty minute delay... but it was worth it.

Our sushi master preparing omakase - oyshi!!

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