A Leap of Faith at Restoration Farm

For members of the CSA, this day couldn't come soon enough - opening day for the 2011 season at Restoration Farm.

The supply of frozen berries, greens and butternut squash soup put up for the winter is almost consumed. And, we've endured a lot this past winter. Endless snow and rain. Wars and revolts. The acrimonious threat of a government shutdown. Scheming associates. Friends moving on. Even exploding food trucks.

We need a place that offers solace, nourishment and community. Perhaps the name Restoration Farm is not accidental.

Becoming a member of a CSA is a leap of faith, committing to share in the success and (hopefully few) mishaps of the growing season. But when you think about it, dropping a tiny seed in the ground is perhaps an even bigger leap of faith.

The faithful return for a glimpse of the farm, and we walk the footpath to the fields again after many months. The stresses of the week fall away.

Many staff and volunteers have been busy throughout the winter, and the farm continues to evolve. New projects are underway to nurture and inspire members. For the first time, animals will be part of the rhythms of the farm. Head grower Dan Holmes talks about how these new endeavors weave into the fabric of Restoration Farm. He says it is all about creating a healthy cycle – a sustainable loop within the farm – where chickens are cared for and forage naturally, along with planting and harvesting vegetables, providing healthy food for members.

A new hen house is home to six breeds of heritage hens. Within six months, they will start to lay eggs.

Red and green lettuce is poking up through the brown earth in the Spring Field.

The ubiquitous kale – that vigorous, healthy green - is showing signs of life.

Twenty five members have committed to a monthly pastured chicken share. Tricia is managing the “Hardscrabble Chicken” project and she gives me a peak at the broiler hens in a brooder that were hatched just days earlier.

As they mature, the birds will live within a bottomless pen which allows them to access grass and bugs. The pen is moved to new pasture each day.

The herb garden has been expanded with beds for basil, additional herbs and cutting flowers.

This summer there will even be blueberries in the Sweet Field, in addition to strawberries, raspberries and blackberries.

Already, the lush green strawberry plants are covered with white blossoms.

As we walk along the berry fields Dan makes a comment that lingers in my memory. Good, healthy vegetables will always be harvested - that’s a given. But it’s the actions of the faithful members - who volunteer, and participate and create - that sustain the cycle of life at Restoration Farm.

The first distribution of vegetables will not occur for weeks, but I’m keeping the faith, already imagining the meals and relationships that lie ahead.

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Zany Flies Solo - Empanadas and a Really Good Friday

Times have been tough without my pal Zany. When I haven’t been feeding my sense of abandonment with an endless diet of Peanut Butter and Fluff sandwiches, I’ve had to endure one bad catered business lunch after another consisting of slimy pasta salad and dry cookies the size of hockey pucks. I’ve been trying to organize a new lunch team, but so far, the candidates have been dubious at best. One of them even told me he couldn’t make a food truck run one day, because “he felt fat.” How do you respond to that?

Through it all, Zany has been an ever-present force on email. Despite the move to Chicago, she’s even more tuned in to New York truck food news than ever before. I heard the news that the Frites ‘n’ Meats Truck had exploded from Zany first. Still, I’ve worried about her. Chicago can be a lonely city for food truck aficionados. Is she keeping up her strength? Is she eating well? Is she consuming the minimum daily requirement of meat and fried foods? I learn more when the following missive - the first official "guest post" ever on Culinary Types - appears in my email box from Zany:

Dear TW -

Forty-four. That’s how many days it was since I graced the line of a New York City food truck. The drought of culinary adventure was leaving me weak and delirious. In fact, when I saw it, I was confused and thought it was a hallucination.

It was Good Friday and I had effectively accomplished little on my work holiday. It was around noon when I mustered the energy to put on my gym gear. I shuffled to the table to grab my iPod when out of the corner of my eye – there it was. Thirty-eight floors down and two blocks over was a parked, blue pastel truck with a growing crowd of people. I paused and my inner Zany hit me – “It’s a food truck, you idiot!” Easter had come early.

I gasped, causing my husband, Luigi – the Italian baker, to come dashing into the dining room exclaiming, “What happened?!” I lowered my hands from my mouth and whispered, “It’s a food truck.” Luigi – after scolding me for my sheer excitement – trudged back into his home office.

I threw down my iPod, opened the computer, and within five minutes identified the vehicle as the 5411 Empanada Truck. I quickly changed, ran into Luigi’s office and furiously started digging through a box. “Now what,” he demanded. “CAMERA – I NEED the camera,” I explained. “It’s empanadas…I’ve just got to go.” Luigi had many more questions – like “I thought you were going to the gym,” “What’s an empanada,” and “Can you get me one” – but I didn’t have time. It was 12:30 p.m. and I had to make it to the truck before lunch was over.

As I hurried out the door I felt a renewed energy. “TW would be so proud,” I thought as my smile spread and I quickened my pace. And then my step got slower. I had no TW. No Mad Me-Shell. Not even a Marie-Antoinette. I was alone.

When I joined the back of the line, I began to feel better.

In true Zany fashion, I craned my neck to examine the line and menu options, and suddenly the rain drops came. My excitement outweighed my prudence and I didn’t bring an umbrella. As I pulled my scarf over my head I mumbled, “Marie-Antoinette would never stand out in the rain.”

The line moved quickly but by the time I made it to the front, two of the six empanada options were sold out. I shared in the collective groan when a woman crossed the “beef” and “sweet corn” flavors off the board. When the kind gentlemen asked, “What would you like?” I was anxious, but with confidence I did what TW would’ve done. I asked for one of everything they had.

With brown bag in hand I ran back to my apartment, but caught the “local” elevator that made eight stops before my floor. As I impatiently tapped my foot, I noticed another smart food connoisseur carrying the same brown bag. I leaned over and in a low voice said, “So you got the empanadas, too?” He smiled and we quickly exchanged pleasantries about food trucks. Another passenger joined the conversation and commented, “I hear food trucks are really big in New York.” The smile disappeared from my face as the elevator reached my floor and I stepped out.

Back in the apartment I laid out the beautifully packaged spread – ham and cheese, spinach and cheese, barbeque chicken and caramelized onion. I called out to Luigi to join me.

Feeling bad about skipping the gym, I broke into the spinach and cheese empanada first. The pastry shell was perfect and there was a distinct hint of parmesan.

We tried the ham and cheese next. Its taste was as unique as its shape. The weight of the cheese and the thickness of ham made this empanada a true comfort food.

While I had been tackling the empanadas by finger, Luigi came to the table with silverware. I decided to cut him some slack, but asked, “So what do you think so far?” He replied, “The ham and cheese is too heavy for me.” With a blank stare I replied, “You’re going to have to do better than that.”

We tore through the barbeque chicken next, which had a tangy, sweet sauce. I took a quick break to text Mad to let her know that she would definitely enjoy that empanada. She quickly wrote back to say she was jealous of my lunch, but it was OK because she was off gallivanting on a boat somewhere in Tennessee.

Luigi and I wrapped up lunch with the caramelized onion empanada. We both didn’t know what to expect, but the sweet flavors of the onion drew us in. We almost had to rock, paper, scissors it out to determine who took the remaining piece of this empanada, but Luigi recognized it was in his best interest to let me have the honors.

In a final attempt to elicit some good discussion, I asked Luigi again about his opinions. He didn’t seem to get it. He simply ranked his opinion of the empanadas – onion, barbeque, spinach and ham and cheese – and resumed his working day. I sighed in disappointment – even Marie-Antoinette could do better.

Then I did what I should’ve done at the outset. I turned to The Boss and he was eagerly waiting to sample everything.

Yours in condiments,

Zany

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Carrot Cake sans Carrots

Happy Easter and Happy Spring! If, by chance, you’ve just been visited by the most famous rabbit of all (and I don’t mean Bugs) you might want to take a moment to reflect on the Big Bunny’s favorite food – The Carrot. Here’s a little carrot trivia to crunch on:

• The carrot originated in Afghanistan, but the varieties grown there were purple and yellow. The ubiquitous orange root didn’t come until later.



• Both the ancient Greeks and Romans cultivated carrots.



• In 1607 the settlers at Jamestown in Virginia introduced carrots to North America.



• Thomas Jefferson – who loved vegetables – harvested 18 bushels of carrots at his Monticello home in 1814.



• The state of California is the top producer of fresh carrots in the United States.



• The carrot consists of 87 percent water.



• Beta carotene gives the carrot its orange color, and the carrot delivers 30 percent of the Vitamin A in the U.S. diet.



• One cup of raw carrots contains about 50 calories, 4 grams of dietary fiber, 6 grams of sugars and over 400 percent of a single daily serving of Vitamin A.

None of these nutritional benefits are present in this whimsical Carrot Cake inspired by a recipe in the April issue of Food Network Magazine. It contains absolutely no carrot, and while the original recipe recommends purchased frozen pound cake and tub frosting, I decided to make a vanilla pound cake recipe and a batch of cream cheese frosting from scratch as the base ingredients for the recipe. Once that’s done, the rest is basically a kitchen craft project of trimming and frosting the cake and precise alignment of dozens of orange jelly beans.

I suspect there’s enough sugar here to assure I’ll be hopping down the bunny trail by late afternoon.

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Winner of "The Encyclopedia of Sandwiches" Giveaway

Congratulations to Jane of the delicious blog, Jane' s Sweets & Baking Journal. She's the random winner of the giveaway of "The Encyclopedia of Sandwiches" by Susan Russo. I'll be contacting Jane via email to arrange for delivery. Jane is an amazing pastry chef and bread baker, so there will likely be some incredible sandwiches in her future, too!

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

One a Penny, Two a Penny, Hot Cross Buns

The catchy phrase above is actually an early form of a marketing jingle that English street merchants used to sell hot cross buns on Good Friday centuries ago.

Today, the jingle is less prevalent, but mass-produced hot cross buns certainly flood the supermarket during the duration of Lent, costing a bit more than a penny or two. There’s a certain charm to the verse, but it would give me pause if the bakery manager at Stop & Shop broke into song.

This is my second attempt at making hot cross buns, and my first success. The sweet yeast dough is enriched with egg, butter, citron and raisins and scented with nutmeg and cinnamon. As the fragrant aroma fills the kitchen, I look into the history of this traditional Good Friday baked item that many believed held extraordinary powers – perhaps an eighteenth century super food.

The earliest recorded mention of hot cross buns is from Poor Robin’s Almanack in 1733, although stories of buns stamped with a cross to mark the crucifixion of Christ date back as early as the Middle Ages. Some believed hot cross buns could cure disease and others thought the loaves would never mold or decay (one would suspect the commercially-produced buns contain enough preservatives to deliver on that promise).

Other historians believe that associations with the bread of the Eucharistic meal – also stamped with a cross – and the imagery of Christ as the bread of life contribute to the supernatural lore associated with hot cross buns.

One custom involved people hanging hot cross buns in their homes all year long to protect against sickness, fire and other calamities. It would be an interesting experiment to try, but I don’t think my hot cross buns will last that long.

(Don't forget you've got just a few more days to participate in the giveaway of "The Encyclopedia of Sandwiches." Leave a comment on the previous post and mention your favorite sandwich by 11:59 PM EDT on Saturday, April 23, and you'll be eligible to win a copy of Susan Russo's new book.)

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

A Giveaway: Susan Russo's "The Encyclopedia of Sandwiches"

Sandwiches are my guilty pleasure, but I’m hardly a gourmet when it comes to slapping some filling between two slices of bread. For me, it’s all about fast flavor. I like the simple preparation, the quick satisfaction of hunger and the easy clean up. Some sandwiches are pantry specials - the ingredients always within reach in a pinch. I can go for days existing on Fluffernutter Sandwiches or Tuna Salad made with Miracle Whip, and I still crave several favorites from my youth - Bologna with Yellow Mustard on White Bread or Cream Cheese and Jelly (cut in four small squares, of course).

You might say I need to expand my sandwich horizons. Fortunately, my pal Susan Russo, "The Food Blogga" has come up with the perfect answer. She's just published "The Encyclopedia of Sandwiches" with Quirk Books. Matt Armendariz provides the sumptuous sandwich photography.

Take a look inside, and you will truly appreciate the artistry of the sandwich. Susan delves into the history and tasty trivia behind some retro stacked favorites (who knew the hot dog was once called a “Frankfurter Sandwich?), and creates some new classics that take the art of the sandwich to a whole new level. Not only are the recipes lip-smacking, but it's an engaging read.

Susan is known for healthy and delicious California cuisine and fresh farmers market fare - so I tracked her down to find out what it was like to turn her culinary prowess to the archetypal finger food, in her new role as the Queen of Sandwiches:

TW: How many sandwiches did you make while researching the book?

Susan: Well, I made the 110 sandwiches in the book (some more than once), some variations and several that didn't make it. So I'd say about 200. And if you're wondering if I gained weight - yes!

TW: Do you think the sandwich has been overlooked or underrated in the past as a culinary institution?

Susan: Until fairly recently, the sandwich was underrated. Nowadays sandwiches are hot! I think the introduction of international sandwiches such as the bahn mi and Italian porchetta have made the sandwich seem suddenly sexier. It also helps that over the last several years, exclusive restaurants such as Campanile in Los Angeles have created artisanal (and expensive) grilled cheese sandwiches, thereby elevating the humble sandwich's status. And with so many celebrity chefs including Tom Colicchio and Rick Bayless opening up sandwich shops, the sandwich's status just keeps soaring.

TW: Your dedication included your husband and notes that he has eaten every sandwich in the book. Did he have a favorite?

Susan: The Muffuletta. I think he actually sang when he ate it.

TW: Was there a piece of sandwich history that surprised you the most?

Susan: Yes. I was surprised to discover that the homey PB & J was once considered a delicacy due to its high price. It wasn't until the introduction of mass-produced peanut butter in the 1920s that it became the iconic American favorite we know today.

TW: Some readers might be surprised to see our favorite "Food Blogga" including the Spamwich in the book. What's your response?

Susan: Well, since the book's title is The Encyclopedia of Sandwiches, I just had to include the Spamwich. I'll admit I'm not a fan, but I didn't let my personal tastes affect my choices in writing the book. But there are plenty of people who really enjoy the Spamwich. If you can believe it, Hawaiians love the pink stuff so much they eat an average of six cans per year. You can even find it at some McDonald's and Burger King restaurants.

TW: What's your go-to bread?

Susan: Crusty Italian. I like a muscular, chewy bread.

TW: What's your "guilty pleasure" sandwich?

Susan: A potato chip sandwich with peanut butter and pickles. I can't believe I just admitted that.

TW: What do you see as the essential ingredients for an outstanding sandwich?

Susan: I think it's subjective, so my honest answer is your favorite bread, your favorite fillings and anything else you want to squirt or pile on top!

To celebrate the publication of Susan's new book, I'm giving away one copy of “The Encyclopedia of Sandwiches” to a reader of this post chosen at random. Simply leave a comment before 11:59 p.m. on Saturday, April 23rd that mentions your favorite sandwich and you'll be eligible. Sorry, but we are only able to ship within the United States. The winner will be selected and announced on Sunday, April 24th. Meanwhile, I'm off to buy some Spam and a jar of pickles. Or maybe I’ll really go crazy and indulge in a Banana Fluffernutter!

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

The Milk Truck and Moonshine

It is not an exaggeration to say that with Zany’s untimely departure, I fall into a deep depression and lose my appetite. Food has lost its flavor, and I subsist for days on nothing but peanut butter and Fluff sandwiches. My college roommate Ford McKenzie decides an intervention is needed and summons me to Brooklyn for a serious meal and a stiff drink – in that order.

I arrive in Brooklyn on the afternoon train, and we head for the Brooklyn Flea, an indoor market at the site of the former Williamsburg Savings Bank building. Ford looks dapper in a weekend uniform of denim jeans and black leather jacket. We are joined by my de-cluttering consultant Rosemary. Several years ago, she famously revamped my kitchen cabinets, but has yet to figure out the best way to sweep out the cobwebs in my brain. Always stylish, today she looks a bit like Catherine Denueve with a touch of retro bling and her blonde hair swept back in a leopard print scarf. We fit in perfectly with the Brooklyn hipster crowd, assuming nobody asks for ID.

There have been sightings of a mysterious “Milk Truck” that serves grilled cheese sandwiches at the Flea. I scan the surrounding streets, but there’s no truck in sight. Ford suggests we enter the Flea, but my stubborn streak is showing. “What good is going inside?" I say. "A food truck would be on the street.”

We wander the vendor booths, eying the range of antiques, crafts, funky sunglasses and artisanal pickles. I quickly make a purchase of several retro Pyrex mixing bowls. Rosemary thinks I have too much kitchenware, but she gives me a free pass on this one.

We follow the signs that read “Food Court This Way” and eventually find ourselves deep within the basement vault of the bank. There, we discover a collection of tables covered with red-and-white checkered tablecloths, kids in strollers, Gen X and Gen Y, dogs, fry tables, and the distinctive aroma of grilled cheese. In one corner of the vault, the Milk Truck has set up shop with a several tables and a griddle.

“But, where are the wheels?” I demand to know. “Food trucks are supposed to have wheels.”

“There’s no truck. It’s still a concept,” explains Ford. “He’s working here while he renovates a truck and gets the permits, and then he’ll go mobile.”

I’m having a little trouble accepting the fact that I can’t even smell a hint of 10W-40 or axle grease in the air, although the scent of melted cheese is starting to win me over. Rosemary wastes no time, consults the chalkboard menu and gets on line to place an order. She requests “The Classic,” because as she puts it, “I’m a classic.” It’s made with aged Wisconsin Gruyere and cultured butter on Levain Pullman bread. I select “The Classic with a Twist” – aged Wisconsin Gruyere on rye with champagne-pickled onions and mustard.

Ever the iconoclast, Ford chooses a “Ham & Cheese” made with Applewood smoked ham, Vermont aged cheddar and Coleman’s Mustard on Rosemary Pullman bread. Fearing that we might still be slightly dairy-deprived, we order two milk shakes – Vanilla Bean and Bittersweet Chocolate.

The meal is udderly brilliant. Imagine the best Saturday afternoon childhood lunch you’ve ever had and then quadruple the pleasure. The sandwiches arrive in grease-stained paper wraps and are crisp, hot and supremely savory, dripping with stringy melted cheese. I consume quite a bit of the shakes – because bittersweet chocolate is good for you – and become transfixed by the swirls of vanilla beans in the vanilla shake. We are flush with the love of lactose, and I must admit I’m feeling a little better.

For something completely different, our next stop is Bushwick. The landscape is industrial, and we wander the street for a bit, searching for some sign of the Kings County Distillery. The business was established about 11 months ago by partners whose hobby was making whiskey. Word-of-mouth spread rapidly, and now there is a seven-day-a-week operation in a renovated Bushwick warehouse. The owners are part of the burgeoning food and drink culture in Brooklyn – people in their early thirties who are crafting the kind of products they want to enjoy.

There is a decidedly no-frills approach. The walls are painted the color of butternut squash, and everywhere we look there are white plastic buckets filled with bubbling corn porridge – the fermenting mash that will eventually deliver a crystal-clear (and legally-produced) “Moonshine” or a slightly-more-aged bourbon whiskey. The finished product is bottled in flasks, and slapped with a label that looks like it was typed on an antique Underwood typewriter.

So what’s the process for aging quality whiskey? Surprisingly (or maybe not) Ford has the answer: “Good scotch is aged ten years or more. Bourbon and rye are aged one-to-six years. Moonshine is aged the amount of time it sits in the back seat of your car during the trip from the still to your house.”

The Kings County Distillery Moonshine is, well, edgy. But isn’t that what life in Bushwick is all about? The master distiller Colin Spoelman describes the taste of the bourbon whiskey “like a wet twig with cinnamon and vanilla spicy notes.” The description is dead on. I buy a bottle, because I need at least one more bottle of bourbon in my liquor cabinet.

Zany would have loved the Kings County Distillery. Mad Me-Shell would have signed a lease and moved right in.

Before departing for home, Ford decides he has a craving for Sicilian fried rice balls. Don’t ask me. My craving meter is set precisely on M&Ms. We park just around the corner from Arancini Bros. on Flushing Street. Their slogan is “We’ve got balls.” (I’m serious. Do you think I make this stuff up?) The guy at the counter gives us a "Frequent Baller Card" for future purchases. The fried rice balls are made with Arborio rice and contain a variety of fillings. They are the size of baseballs, and make for a substantial supper. One never goes hungry in the company of Ford McKenzie.

Night falls, and when I arrive home, a giant Super Moon is beaming over my humble abode. A celestial event? Or is it the moonshine?

No Zany? Food trucks without wheels? Urban moonshine? How will I survive this Brave New World? At least there will always be longtime friends (I didn’t say old), the comfort of grilled cheese and people with balls to help navigate any uncertainties that lie ahead.

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved

Amber Waves of Grain

Late last fall as I was picking up my share of vegetables at Restoration Farm, I was pleasantly surprised to see some autumn lettuce had become available. Another member was picking up her share and offered me two heads of lettuce.

“I can’t think about salad anymore,” she told me. “I want something warm and comforting.” I gladly accepted the tender leaves of red and green lettuce.

Now, months after – and some two feet of snow later – I often wonder if that woman is longing for a green salad. The late spring lettuce is still a long way off, so I’ve been contemplating salad of the cold weather variety. At the final farm pot luck of the season, I tasted a wheat berry salad, and I’ve been considering the possibility ever since. I loved the bite and nutty flavor. But, wheat berries – also called hard red winter wheat berries – can be tough to find in your average supermarket. I finally made a trip to Whole Foods to buy it in bulk for literally pennies.

The wheat berry is a whole-wheat kernel packed with fiber and nutrients – vitamins B6 and E, magnesium, niacin, iron and zinc. The bran and the germ contain the majority of nutrients found in the kernel. The tawny grains are soaked overnight and then simmered for an hour on the stove. If anything defines the word “toothsome” it is the wheat berry. The plump, cooked grains have a hearty, chewy taste, and “pop” nicely in the mouth.

Once cooked, it’s simple to dress the wheat berry up a variety of ways and create a hearty winter main course salad. This recipe is a rainbow of color against the monochrome of winter white and combines the sparkle of orange zest, earthy red beets, crunchy orange carrot, sweet raisins, sharp scallions and plenty of those legendary amber waves of grain. One serving has 10 grams of dietary fiber. That’s plenty of nutrition, comfort – and salad – for a chilly night.

©2011 T.W. Barritt all Rights Reserved

A Treat for Lent or St. Patty’s Day?

I’m not a fan of Daylight Savings Time arriving in March. For several years now, it has screwed up my internal clock. I mean, for years I’ve been conditioned to expect the change of clocks in April. When it happens in March, I get crazy. I start getting religious occasions and holidays all mixed up.

For example, these flaky, golden Cloverleaf Rolls were supposed to be Hot Cross Buns, a traditional Lenten recipe. To make it just a little more confusing, the yeast dough recipe listed in my cookbook is for Parker House Rolls.

Huh?

Perhaps I should start from the beginning. I’ve recently discovered that the 75th Anniversary Edition of the Joy of Cooking is rather a good reference book for classic breads and yeast dough. The recipe for Hot Cross Buns caught my eye. Joy of Cooking has a narrative format. Instead of the ingredients at the top, they’re interspersed throughout the directions. The Hot Cross Buns recipe starts with the directions, “Prepare Dough for Parker House Rolls, Above.” Immediately, I switched to the previous recipe (apparently Parker House Rolls are a good foundation recipe for lots of different breads). I’m cruising along, ready for the first rise, when I realize – as Bugs Bunny used to say – I should have taken a right at Albuquerque. I missed the point when I should have jumped back to the Hot Cross Buns recipe. The citron, the raisins, and the cinnamon and extra sugar are sitting on the counter untouched. Too late to retrace my steps and correct the mistake. As we often say, particularly in Lent, the Devil is in the details.

Fortunately, I was at just the right point to complete the recipe for Cloverleaf Rolls. (Are you dizzy yet?) All I needed to do was roll the dough into these little balls and pop them into muffin tins and bake.

With that quick save, I follow the Cloverleaf Rolls recipe to its conclusion, the house smells like warm yeast rolls, and the rolls break into lovely segments that catch the melting butter. It’s the perfect treat for St. Patrick’s Day, and would actually be a nice accompaniment for Corned Beef and Cabbage.

My Lenten penance for my carelessness will be to commit the recipe for Hot Cross Buns to memory and try again next weekend.

©2011 T.W. Barritt All Rights Reserved