Not just for veggie lovers, Veggievangelist talks about food in general. A former professional candy maker, Veggievangelist loves trying out all sorts of recipes, much to the chagrin of her family.
On the first day of summer, my garden gave to me: a carrot and a beet.
On the second day of summer, my garden gave to me: two small pumpkins, a carrot and a beet.
On the third day of summer, my garden gave to me: three dead cilantros, two small pumpkins and a carrot and a beet.
On the fourth day of summer, my garden gave to me: four dying cuke plants, three dead cilantros, two small pumpkins and a carrot and a beet.
On the fifth day of summer, my garden gave to me: five lima beans, four dying cukes, three dead cilantros, two small pumpkins and a carrot and a beet.
On the sixth day of summer, my garden gave to me: six fire ant bites, five lima beans, four dying cukes, three dead cilantros, two small pumpkins and a carrot and a beet.
On the seventh day of summer, my garden gave to me: seven towering sunflowers, six fire ant bites, five lima beans, four dying cukes, three dead cilantros, two small pumpkins and a carrot and a beet.
On the eight day of summer, my garden gave to me: five hundred striped paste tomatoes, seven towering sunflowers, six fire ant bites, five lima beans, four dying cukes, three dead cilantros, two small pumpkins and a carrot and a beet.
I could go on, but this is what I do to entertain myself while weeding in the garden. It's been a long, hard, hot summer. Fire ants be damned.
This is one of my favorite summer sandwiches. The term Bahn Mi is Vietnamese for bread in general, but this style of sandwich has come to define the name Bahn Mi. In my many lifetimes, I have had opportunities to work in strange parts of Atlanta (and New York for that matter). One of my favorite was an office right off Atlanta's Buford Highway, a road that gives our city its international reputation. There are a number of blink-and-you-might-miss-it restaurants from virtually any country you can imagine. My co-workers and I would frequent one Vietnamese place in particular (just down the shopping strip from our favorite Chinese restaurant) owned by a feisty woman named Suzanne. She married an American soldier and came over after the end of the war. She would tell the best stories about her resourcefulness and we could not disagree. Gang members would try to shake her down and failed. Come for the pho, leave with a story. Here's one of the sandwiches she served to perfection.
Bahn Mi
2 baguettes, sliced lengthwise, but not completely through (you will stuff the sandwich)
1 l lb. pork tenderloin
1/2 cup shredded carrot
1/2 cup grated peeled daikon radish
2 tsp. sugar
1/2 cup cider vinegar
1/4 tsp. Kosher salt
3 Tbsp. chili garlic sauce
1 1/2 tsp. sugar
1 cucumber thinly sliced
1/2 cup cilantro leaves
1 thinly sliced jalapeno pepper
1/4 cup thinly sliced green onions (optional)
1/4 cup mayonnaise
(Vegetarian option: Use tempeh instead of pork)
Combine shredded carrot, daikon, vinegar, sugar and 1/4 tsp. Kosher salt in a small bowl. Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour (or up to a day before). Preheat oven to 400 degrees and prepare a baking pan with cooking spray or oil to prevent sticking. Mix the 1 1/2 tsp. sugar and chili garlic sauce together and spread 2 Tbsp. of the mix over the meat. (I leave a little at the end without the chili for the children). Bake the tenderloin for approximately 20 minutes, or until the meat thermometer registers 155 degrees). Remove meat from the oven and allow to cool. Once cool, cover it and refrigerate. Mix mayonnaise and the remaining chili mixture and refrigerate. When ready to prepare the sandwiches, spread mayonnaise and chili sauce on the sides of the baguette. Slice the pork and arrange in the bread along one side. Drain the carrot/radish mixture and place some in each sandwich. Continue with cucumbers, jalapenos, cilantro and green onion. Cut each sandwich into equal portions. Should serve 8. If you're cutting carbs, make this as a salad without the bread.
Rub pork tenderloin with chili garlic sauce and sugar before cooking
In any case, I have another dish that is perfect for NOW! Fresh corn is in season, as are fresh tomatoes. I can't say that my cilantro is in good shape. Let's say for now that it's reseeding itself and by fall, I should have a bumper crop. So, to take advantage of two of the finest crops that you absolutely, positively must eat now, I give you:
Corn and Tomato Salad with Cilantro Dressing
Corn and Tomato Salad with Cilantro Dressing
Adapted from Bon Appetit, July 2006, Credit to Lovoni Walker
Ingredients:
3 cups fresh corn kernels, cut from about six small ears of corn, cooked)
5 medium tomatoes, chopped
2/3 cup finely chopped red onion
In a blender, puree the following:
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup fresh cilantro leaves
2 Tbsp. white wine vinegar
1 Tbsp. fresh lime juice
2 tsp. packed light brown sugar
1 clove garlic, peeled
salt and pepper to taste
Place corn kernels, chopped tomatoes and red onion in a mixing bowl. Add dressing just before serving and toss to cover. Serves six to eight.
Crashing. My first thought was "Camp, it does a body good."
Making pickles
Cooking pickle brine
Getting four inches of rain in one day and finding a sunflower keeled over
And doing something I've never done before: composting pickles
Our summer's been one interesting day after another. The heat has been part of it, with Atlanta breaking an all time record of 106 degrees. I know in most parts of the country there's been similar stress, and for some friends in the Mid-Atlantic region, a week without power. My hat's off to those folks. I would have lost it.
One of the side effects of the extreme heat with no rain in sight, is that the cucumbers have either died outright or turned bitter. I didn't know that about cukes until a farmer at the market told me he'd be ripping his out this week because the cukes are bitter. Which brings me to pickles. I love, love, love making this particular recipe for pickles. I think I did 50 jars of them last year. This year, bupkus. I realized too late after making six jars last week that the cucumbers were bitter. Worse than the vinegar I was trying to brine them in. Blech. So, this morning, I dumped all of the cucumbers into the compost. Sad times around here.
But, I encourage you to test some cucumbers and make this for yourself. They are a marvelous addition to your dining. They're refrigerator pickles, so you keep them in the fridge. You can put them up, but I find that it makes the cucumbers kind of soft. They make awesome gifts.
Kinda Sorta Sours
Adapted from Alton Brown, Food Network
Prep Time: 20 minutes
Cook Time: 5 minutes
Inactive Prep Time: At least one hour
Makes approximately eight quart jars
Ingredients:
3 sweet onions, thinly sliced
2 cucumbers per jar, for a total of about a dozen large cucumbers
16 cloves of garlic, smashed and peeled
6 cups water
6 cups cider vinegar
3 cups white balsamic vinegar
3 cups sugar
1 cup plus 1/3 cup of Kosher salt
1 Tbsp. mustard seeds
3/4 tsp. ground turmeric
1 Tbsp. celery seeds
1 Tbsp. pickling spice
Prepare jars for canning by thoroughly cleaning with hot soapy water.
Prep cucumbers and onions and garlic in advance. Start with adding the garlic to each jar, then the onion slices and then the cucumbers. You will need to leave room at the top for the brine once it's ready. Have extra cucumbers ready for topping off the jars once the brine soaks down into the jar.
In a large non-reactive pot, combine the water, vinegars, sugar, salt, and spices. Bring to a boil and simmer four minutes to dissolve sugar and salt. Remove from heat.
Slowly ladle the brine into each jar, allowing it to settle into the jar. You may want to use a chopstick to move the contents so that air escapes the jar. Fill the jar to the top, adding cucumbers as needed. Top with remaining brine to the 1/4 inch fill line on the jar. Wipe rims of jar with a clean, wet rag. Place lids on the jar and screw down. I take this opportunity to flip the jars upside down for a minute to get the brine to the bottom. Allow jars to cool to room temperature and then refrigerate.
I work most Saturdays selling cheese at local farmer's markets. There are six of us who do this all around town. Sometimes they're able to bring stuff back to the shop and sometimes there's stuff to share. Like these:
Pattypan Squash. And here's my market conundrum: I see these and don't have a clue what to do with them. I think they're so pretty that maybe I shouldn't bother cooking them, but then, that wouldn't be right either. Then I'm wasting an opportunity to try something new. That's part of my problem as a gardener. I like the pretty pictures in the seed catalogs and wind up buying seeds for things that I either decide not to grow, or worse, grow things that I hesitate to eat (like radishes). I want to like these things, and mostly I do, but some of it goes back into the composter as result of my wishy-washiness. So, I have a plan. I'm going to roast these with some olive oil, salt and pepper. A friend said to stuff them, but I don't know what to stuff them with. I will also cook the one eggplant that I've grown so far. And the beet greens. Here's hoping the boys in my life will give it all a try.
Of course, the answer is to bean. I suppose the more pressing question is why you should learn how to cook beans from, well, beans, rather than opening up a can. I can tell you 299 reasons why. I bought a can of Garbanzo beans while on vacation in Colorado in the only store in town. $2.99 for a can of lovely chick peas. $2.99! For that, the beans should have put on a dance or something. Sheesh. Dried beans are an inexpensive way to add low-fat fiber to your diet. My brother in law (the reason for purchasing the wildly expensive chick peas) adds them to his salad every day. And he eats an insane amount of salad each day (mind you, no dressing).
Play around with the dried beans you purchase. Some are straightforward (pinto, lima, navy/white, kidney). Others are more exotic: cranberry, Anasazi, flageolet. All are worthy competitors to the beans in cans.
So, there are a few ways of getting from dried bean to bountiful bean perfection.
First: Let's call it Jen's Method. You take a large sauce pan that has a lid and put your quantity of beans in and cover them with water, putting the lid on top. Turn your stove on high (don't leave!) and wait for the beans to come to a boil. Boil for one minute. Turn off the heat, and let the beans sit for one hour on the stovetop, covered. After one hour, drain the beans, cover again with water (and add any aromatics you might like) and keep covered at a low simmer for 45 minutes to an hour and a half (test beans at 45 minutes by removing a few from the pot with a spoon, allowing them to cool, and pinching them with your fingers). Jen is my neighbor who channels Emeril Lagasse's Cajun/Creole cooking. Her red beans and rice are the things parties are made of.
Second: Overnight Soak. You take a large bowl and put your beans in it and cover completely with water. Allow the beans to soak overnight. They will absorb the water and plump up overnight. In the morning, or when you're ready to cook them, drain them. Place the beans in a large sauce pan with a lid and again cover the beans with water (add any aromatics you might like, such as sliced garlic or onion). Bring them to a boil covered, boil for about one minute, and reduce the heat to a low simmer and continue to cook for 45 minutes to an hour and a half, checking the beans at 45 minutes.
Third: Pressure Cooker. I don't happen to have one, though early childhood memories indicate I took the steam tick-tocker off the top of one when my mother was cooking potatoes. I got yelled at as the family anticipated an explosion of potatoes on the kitchen ceiling (it didn't happen). My friend Susan has a pressure cooker and she swears by it. If you have one, use it for beans!
Apologies for the dark photos. The lighting in the hotel/apartment kitchen was subpar for photos.
As I left the Sandy Springs Farmer's Market today to pull the car around and load up the tent and cooler, I walked past the Taylorganics booth. They still had some odd produce out before closing up their booth. I spotted this. It's almost as tall as some toddlers I know. It isn't celery, though by its stalks, you might think it was. Any ideas?
