Written by Courtney Coleman | 01 September 2009

It’s fall, the season harvest! 

I love to stir-steam the abundant dark leafy green crucifers with sweet fall roots in cast iron for a tasty, vitamin-dense dish. The crucifers (also known as the brassica family vegetables - kale, collards, broccoli, etc.) are off the charts in so many wonderful nutrients and health promoting properties, it’d be ridiculous to try to list them all here. Just eat ‘em! And, because the crucifers tend to taste bitter and somewhat spicy, the sweet roots of fall (yams, parsnips, carrots, turnips, rutabagas, etc.) compliment them nicely when cooked together - especially with the sweeter ground spices such as ginger and coriander. Fall and winter are generally the seasons to include more cooked vegetables into your diet, as they are easier to digest and impart warmth to the body when baked, or cooked in cast iron or in a pressure cooker. Also, using more fats and animal proteins - especially for people with a weak, cold or deficient body types, which helps the body build strength and stay warm during the cold weather months. And each spice has specific warming or cooling properties. Please visit my website www.cookwell.org [2] for other whole foods recipes, and much more!
Here is one of my favorite recipes for the fall veggies. I call it Fall & Winter Greens Stir-Steam. You'll need:

2 Tbsp ghee, butter or coconut oil
2 cups any diced sweet winter roots 
1 Tbsp ground ginger and 1 tsp ground coriander
1 tsp dill, tarragon, or rosemary 
1 bunch chopped, dark kale or collard greens 
3 Tbsp Nama, San-J, or Eden brand shoyu or tamari soy sauce
juice of one ripe lemon 

In a large cast iron frying pan or wok with a fitting lid, place 2 Tbsp ghee, butter or coconut oil over med heat and spread evenly in the pan. Immediately add 2 cups any sweet winter roots (diced into ½ inch cubes), 1/2 cup filtered water, 1 Tbsp ground ginger and 1 tsp ground coriander. Stir well so spices spread evenly over the veggies. After cooking for 2 minutes, stir and layer 1 bunch chopped, dark kale or collard greens (the darker the greens, the more minerals they have!) on top, then sprinkle in 1 tsp dill, tarragon, or rosemary (or all three!) on top of the greens. Cover with lid; after 1 minute remove lid and stir again. Turn off heat as soon as all the kale or collards are wet looking and slightly wilted. Then add 3 Tbsp Nama, San-J, or Eden brand shoyu or tamari soy sauce and the juice of one ripe lemon evenly to everything. Stir again and enjoy!

www.cookwell.org

 

Written by Carole Bumpus | 01 August 2009

 Savory Bread Salad 

Franco Boeri, from ROI Frantoio of Badalucco, (Liguria) Italy, lifts his small tasting glass into the air, as if calling each of us to the altar for communion. We solemnly proceed forward to the olive-oil tasting table, pick up a glass smaller than a shot glass, and tip the shimmering golden liquid toward our lips. But, wait!  The olive tree and olive have been considered sacred from as far back as the 17th century, B.C. Therefore, this is a religious experience. Therefore, we need to sample olive oil in a manner distinctly different from any other tastings.
With his hand still poised, he instructs us in Italian to ‘inhale’ the liquid—through the teeth and past the gums—with almost a slurping method.
“The oil should cross the tongue, and then be allowed to linger at the back of the mouth before actually swallowing it. It takes practice,” he says, “and it will sound most vociferous,” he warns.
Seventy-five of us traditional culinary students begin the process of tasting. Some are reticent, while others more enthusiastic. But no matter how one positions his or her lips or how one uses the technique of inhalation, all of us end up sounding much like a gaggle of geese with chicken bones caught in our throats. Thuulk!  Thuulk!  Thiilk!!  Some quickly place their glasses on the table for more, while others prefer to cover their ears from the abhorrent sounds. But we all come around again to lift our glasses in the air, once again refilled with yet another delectable choice. Light, fruity, yet full bodied oils bless our tongues and we come away feeling sanctified.
In this region of Liguria, high above San Remo and the Italian Riviera, olive trees have grown since Roman times. The mild climate has guaranteed a production of extra-virgin olive oils which have a delicate, yet memorable full-bodied flavor. And, since 1900, each generation of the Boeri family have produced award-winning olive oils as their legacy. We were in the company of the Gods.
 If you are far away from Liguria, yet want to sample good olive oil, embrace the local olive oils of the Central Coast. Search for extra-virgin olive oils which have been produced in the cold-pressed method, and bottled in dark bottles. Make certain to keep them in the dark and away from a heat source, but enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!
Summer Panzanella
(Savory Bread Salad)  Serves 6

2 lbs. of ripe tomatoes, peeled, seeded and diced
1 ½ teaspoons of minced fresh garlic
1/3 cup chopped red onion
8 large basil leaves, coarsely chopped
½ English cucumber, chopped
1/3 cup of pitted Kalamata olives, chopped
6 thick slices of dry, Italian bread, cubed.
   (Possibly olive bread, but no sourdough bread, please.)
*******************
Mix all ingredients together in a large bowl. Then, sprinkle:
2 Tablespoons of red wine vinegar
1/3 cup of good extra virgin olive oil
Add plenty of medium coarse sea salt and coarse ground pepper.
Adjust to your taste. This is excellent on hot summer evenings or as picnic fare, as it travels well.

Written by Carole Bumpus | 01 July 2009

(Mixed Summer Vegetables Provence-Style)

One early summer, I traveled with our Provençal culinary group to the ancient city of Arles, France where we were instructed by Erick Vedel in cuisine paysanne—peasant cooking.  As I stood in the extension to the Vedel’s Arlesienne kitchen, purported to once have been a first century, A.D., Roman stable, my eyes wandered about to see if there were traces of earlier times, but no.  Twenty centuries had come and gone with no recognizable stalls to be seen.  Instead, long tables stretched the length of the room with an array of garden-fresh vegetables: deep purple aubergine, sleek green zucchini, brightly-colored peppers and voluptuous tomatoes.  Fat round onions lay side by side along with rows of garlic cloves.  Local bottles of luminous green olive oil stood like soldiers awaiting duty while glasses of wine had been poured for those of us awaiting instruction.
Madeleine Vedel stood close to her husband, as she translated his every word, his every move. “We are about to begin the serious business of ancient and medieval cuisine,” she announced.  “Prepare yourselves.”  Erick set out numerous sizes of ‘tians,’ rust-red terra cotta baking dishes, as we pulled on our virginal aprons, unscathed by spot or stain.  We picked up our wine glasses, pens and stood at the ready.
“Because our fine city is situated on the Rhône River, Arles has, over the past two thousand years, been the benefactor and repository of fine international culinary history.  You see, this city was one of the first ports-of-call on the inland ‘highway’ into France.  Foods and recipes have always transcended the need for a common language, and as mariners stopped at our port, they would share their recipes, spices, and stories from their homelands.  Our present Provençal cuisine reflects this so-called international ‘fusion’ of flavors.”  Erick nodded his head in acknowledgement, smiled and grabbed a large knife and one of the glistening purple aubergine.
Set oven temperature at 375 degrees, Fahrenheit

Ingredients:
2 Aubergine (Eggplant)
3 Zucchini
4  Fresh tomatoes—the freshest, please
1 Red/Yellow Bell Pepper (your choice)
1 Onion
2  Garlic cloves
3 Bay leaves
1  Sprinkling of thyme
½  Cup of olive oil
6  Tablespoons grated Gruyere cheese
Sea salt from the Camargue (or kosher salt)

First, cut the eggplant into rounds and salt liberally.  Layer into a colander to ‘sweat’ for one hour.  In the meantime, cut zucchini into rounds, as well as the tomatoes.  Set aside.  Mince the onion and chop the bell pepper into small pieces; set aside.
Take out a frying pan and lightly sauté the minced onions and peppers in olive oil until they caramelize.  Remove with a slotted spoon and layer mixture into bottom of a tian or baking dish.   Fry the zucchini rounds a minute per side.  Set aside.  Rinse eggplant from salt and pat dry on paper toweling.  Fry them a minute on each side.  Set aside.  Crush and chop the garlic.
Then begin to layer the vegetables.  Place the eggplant in one layer on top of minced onions, followed by raw tomatoes, a bit of chopped garlic, crumbled bay leaf, a little salt, and then a layer of zucchini rounds.  Repeat until all vegetables have been used.  Sprinkle the top with cheese and bake in the oven for 30 minutes.  (Author’s note:  I use more cheese, some pitted black olives, plus a sprinkling of Herbes de Provençe or ground culinary lavender.)

Hot steamy hours passed as we completed instruction for this recipe, and two more that followed— Pacquets d’Aubergine and one medieval recipe for quail.  Succulent aromas of olive-oil laced vegetables and garlic filled the air.  Finally golden cheese-encrusted tians along with platters of crispy quail were placed on the table for all to enjoy.  Quickly, we sat down, totally exhausted but completely ravenous.  Ah, but would you pour just a touch more Provençal rosé, s’il vous plait?
Tour conducted by:  Erick and Madeleine Vedel, Association et Cuisine et Tradition, Arles, France
Carole Bumpus is a freelance food/travel writer from Northern California. SavoringtheOldeWays.blogspot.com

 

Written by Carole Bumpus | 01 June 2009

My love of strawberries began the summer of my third year. Sneaking out of the basement apartment of my grandparents’ home, I would head down the darkened garden path, past the lilac bushes, through the back gate and into the warm, morning sun of Mrs. Nelson’s strawberry patch. There, I would swoop down with a vengeance onto the brightest red berries my chubby fingers could wrest free, brush away the dirt and leaves and quickly, quickly before my mother would wail, “Calamity Jane, are you at it again?” I would sink my teeth into one of those sweet, juicy, yet tangy red strawberries.  In that moment, I could experience summertime explode in my mouth, ooze down my chin and then? And, then I could get on with the business of being three.

So it was with great joy, that I found myself many years later, the giddy participant of a Provençe cooking tour in Avignon, France at the grand hotel, La Mirande. This elegant seven-hundred-year-old renovated Cardinal’s palace, tucked deftly behind the magnificent yet austere former Palace of the Popes, was built in 1309. And our cooking group would have the distinction of learning to cook on one of their mighty 14th century, wood-fired stoves. Ah, but that was the challenge!

The menu for our lessons of cuisine began with a creamy, yet delicate Artichoke Soup, infused with Spanish ham (only acorn-eating ham, at that). This course was followed by a succulent Red Snapper stuffed with a uniquely-prepared Ratatouille (I’ll have to tell you about that another time) with a Saffron Sauce. But for me, the piece de résistance was a marvelous dessert, Wild Strawberry Soup with Herbs, Spices, Zests and a housemade Lemon-Basil Sorbet. Did I mention strawberries?  Wild strawberries?

The instructor of the hour, Daniel Hebet, was a young chef of great sophistication, yet had a humble approach to his cuisine. When asked if he prepared his ratatouille the same way as his mother, he replied with a twinkle in his eye, “I am a good son. I do not contradict my mother.” He developed all of the dishes we prepared but, to me, his masterpiece was his Soupe de Fraises.

Soupe de Fraises

2 pts. Fresh strawberries
½ cup of sugar

Group 1:  Fresh Herbs –2 Tablespoons each - finely chopped basil, coriander leaves, tarragon, and lemongrass
Group 2:  Spices – ground vanilla, ginger, cinnamon, and cardamom
Group 3:  Zests (sweetened) – lemon, grapefruit, ginger, orange and lime zests
(Sweetened with 1 qt. water and 2 cups of sugar)
Lemon juice
Gaseous spring water/mineral water

Blend the strawberries in a blender with ½ cup of sugar. Set aside in the refrigerator. Mix each of the groups separately. When ready to serve, mix a small amount of lemon juice and mineral water into the strawberries. Pour the strawberry mixture into individual bowls with broad rims. Place one scoop of lemon-basil sorbet in the middle of each bowl. Then, sprinkle small portions of each one of the groups consecutively along the outside rim of the bowl.

Now, how do I eat this, you ask? Once you lift your spoon, glide it across one of each of the groups, then into the strawberry soup itself, ending in the cooling sorbet in the center. You will find that every single bite is an extraordinary explosion of flavors not to be found anywhere else—unless, perhaps, it’s in the backyard of your childhood.

Carole Bumpus is a freelance traditional food and Travel writer whos live in Northern California.