Stephencooks

Pesto Variations

  

Pesto, of course, is not news, as wonderful as it is. It comes at us in supermarkets, on restaurant menus, and in so many guises and pairings that it's become an almost annoying commonplace. So why blog about it? Because we still can't get enough of it: on pasta, smeared on bread, in a sandwich, in a little blob on our scrambled eggs, wherever and whenever!  In the season when basil comes in armloads I'm making and freezing as many little containers as I can.

Another reason not to blog about it is that it's been done so much better by so many talented people. Take a look at Melissa's evocative post on her beautiful blog The Traveler's Lunchbox to see just one shining example. What, I ask you, could I add to the world's appreciation of pesto when there are people like Melissa who can do it so much better than I could?

But of course, there's always a new adventure around the next corner, no matter how well you think you know the trail. Last night I made another bucket of pesto, and, I decided to just throw in everything green and flavorful that I had in the refrigerator. Basil, of course, but also a huge bunch of turnip greens from last week, as well as tarragon, sage and parsley. The result, when it appeared on the table, had not only a fresh, interesting taste but seemed to glow a brighter shade of green than the usual basil pesto. (Honest, that's not spinach linquine in the picture -- it just turned that color when tossed in the "everything pesto!")  It was so striking and delicious that E convinced me to take a picture and agree to post it, even while I was protesting that "pesto's been done to death!" Paired with a simple salad of bibb lettuce, Wolf Pine Farm purple tomatoes, Vidalia onions and blanched baby turnips, and served with a crunchy marinated olive bread from Standard Bakery, this slight twist on the standard made a perfect late summer meal.

Summerhouse Scallops with Roasted Pears in Wine-Butter Sauce

  

It's getting harder and harder to get away from it all in this world, but earlier this month we found a welcome respite from cell phones, Internet and war only ten miles off the Maine coast on Monhegan Island. A little rock, 1.7 miles long and half as wide, with a few houses, no cars, and spotty cell service, it's mostly owned by a private preservation organization (Monhegan Associates, Inc.) and mostly occupied by a few artists and a lot of pine trees, rocks, weeds, birds, flowers and an abiding quiet. There's nothing to do there except visit the artists' studios (usually open a couple of hours one or two days a week), hike the primitive trails, read, sleep...and, of course, cook and eat! We had a great time, and came back nicely refreshed and recharged.

Summerhouse cooking is a vexing little subset of real cooking that is characterized by dull knives, unfamiliar and hard-to-control stoves, strange water and, of course, the absence of all your tools and everything you have in your pantry in the way of seasonings and staples. We rented a tiny cabin on Monhegan -- a bedroom, a kitchen with a table, and a bathroom, with a deck -- and the kitchen was pretty much the standard you can expect. There was salt and pepper and some previous guest had left a small bottle of canola oil. Propane stove, the dull knives (and there's NEVER a sharpening steel), half a roll of paper towels, a few pots and dishes.  Of course, everything you need costs about double at the little island market.

The first night we ate out (at the Island Inn) but it was at the same time too much like civilization and not civilized enough to justify the island-premium price of the meal. And, to be honest, sitting on the deck at the cabin was better by far than eating in any restaurant. So, of course, I cooked...

We had brought a bag of food with us -- mostly fruit and fixings for trailside sandwiches -- and I quickly made friends with the island fish market, next to the town wharf, where diver scallops and fresh, line-caught swordfish, cod and halibut came in off the boats every afternoon.  I had wine and a couple of pears we had brought over and I found a huge patch of chives in the side yard, so seared scallops with roasted pears and a wine-butter sauce seemed to be just the right way to go...and the simplicity of the dish was perfectly matched to the simplicity and timelessness of Monhegan.

Fish Chowder with Fennel and Corn

  

I was in Harbor Fish Market at the sliced fish case, discussing the $20/lb "sushi-grade" tuna with one of the staff when I spotted a tub of "chowder medley" in the back of the case for $6.99. Now I'm not opposed to paying $20 for a top grade piece of fish, and I have no doubt that if Harbor Fish says it's sushi grade, it is. (It's called "trust-your- fishmonger," since there's no regulation of the designation.) But this time (maybe because I don't right now have any sort of grill available, and my favorite way to do tuna is on the grill) the medley won out.

"Chowder mix" in a lot of fish markets is a collection of odds and ends that's been sitting around for days in hopes of being sold before it's pitched. But at Harbor Fish, they cut and sell so much fish that the medley is always from today's cuttings. And they don't put the delicate pieces of haddock, cod, etc., in the mix -- it's all tuna, swordfish, hallibut, etc. -- fish that will hold together when cooked.

I didn't really know what I was going to do with the fish but when I got into the kitchen and scrounged around in the refrigerator to see what I had to work with I decided fairly quickly to improvise a quick and simple chowder. Bacon, pancetta, corn and fennel gave this take on traditional fish chowder a slightly smoky, interesting flavor, and the meaty chunks of fresh fish, coated with the flavorful broth, delivered their slightly different flavors for a very nice casual summer meal, with a big salad, of course.

Lamb Chops with Farm Fresh Veggies

  

This was a meal made almost completely from produce grown on small Maine farms or backyard gardens -- and what a meal! Elise said it was "one of the most flavorable meals I ever ate" and then made me promise to put that in this post!

It's tomato roasting time! CLICK HERE for my post on how to do it.

We visited some local farms recently and bought a great-looking pack of lamb chops from the Noon Family Sheep Farm in Springvale, Maine. Later in the week my neighbor Kit generously allowed me to snip several stalks of mint from their garden, and the same day I stopped in at our old house -- sitting empty awaiting the sale closing -- and harvested oregano from the herb garden. The carrots, kohlrabi, onions and collard greens in the dish all came from our CSA share, and the rosemary came from the windowsill pot in my apartment.

Maine Blueberry Caramel

 

The Maine blueberries are here! The Maine blueberries are here! Maine's wild blueberry season is short (about 5 weeks or so, starting in late July or early August), and only 1% of the crop is sold fresh, which means we have to grab the few chances we get each year to enjoy the real blueberry deal. Fat, gooey, tasteless cultivated blueberries from unlikely places like New Jersey and California are available all year round in your produce section, but their relationship to the real wild blueberry is distant indeed.

Maine has about 60,000 acres of land in wild blueberries, mostly in the coastal zone. Due to biannual pruning to maximize harvest, only half of the blueberry fields are productive in any given year. Maine is the largest producer in the U.S., producing 25% of the total North American crop. Canada produces 25% (also wild) and the rest of the production is cultivated in other U.S. states. 

These tiny orbs of flavor bring back memories of 40-years-ago wilderness pies baked in a reflector oven at the end of a long day of paddling. with breaks to gather buckets of streamside blueberries on the portage paths, in Northern Michigan and the Timagami and Boundary Waters lake chains in Ontario. Though nothing could bring the entire experience of those canoe treks back completely, this food creates a strong connection for me with cherished memories.

Making pie, of course, requires a commitment of time, a modicum of skill and more than a little patience, even in a kitchen instead of around a campfire. However, this blueberry caramel is quick and easy and delivers about 98% of the flavor and goodness as a pie (and almost certainly with less calories, depending on what sort of cookie you choose to spoon it over). Of course, a good creamy vanilla ice cream is mandatory, and if available I like to spoon the blueberries over a sweet biscuit -- from a box, as in the picture above, which keeps it quick and easy, but I won't stop you if you want make your biscuits from scratch (or Bisquick shortcake, if you're still in a little hurry!).

Haddock Fillets with Mushrooms, Tomatoes, Onions and Pancetta

  

One of the best wild-caught products of the New England fishery is the simple haddock. Usually breaded and fried, and almost always used for fish and chips in the U.S. since cod has ascended to a higher price bracket, the delicate flavor and texture of this fish is easily lost due to harsh cooking methods or overpowering flavorings, so for my money, gently poaching haddock fillets in a flavorful broth is one of the best ways to enjoy this wonderful fish.

For this dish I wanted to explore the possibilities bringing wild mushrooms together with poached haddock (inspired partly by Jasper White's "Lobster and Cod Braised with Leeks and Mushrooms in a Savory Broth" in the wonderful book, Lobster at Home). The dish is really quite simple -- make a little broth and poach the fish in it --  though it does have a fairly long ingredients list and takes a little time. However, the result is, I think, fully worth the light amount of effort it takes.