This time of year I am a sucker for artichokes. There’s really only one way to make them, and to then combine carciofi alla romana with tender white beans and crunchy homemade toast produces one of my favorite late-winter meals. Soon enough artichokes will be out of season, right around the time that my reliance on vegetables grown more than 50 feet from my house will end. Until then, they’re my vegetable guilty pleasure.
I got some beautiful local raw milk and pastured eggs today to use in a couple of projects, and they unsurprisingly found their way into dinner. It’s been just lovely lately; today was a tad chilly but the sun was warm. I’ve gotten a bunch of stuff planted in the garden, and hooped those beds to keep them from freezing hard on cold nights. I’m having a hard time keeping up with all of the culinary ideas that I keep having, which is a wonderful problem to have, especially in contrast to my mood of a couple weeks ago.
Tomorrow I’m going to pick up half a lamb, so I thought I’d put up something about some other lamb from about a week ago. Tonight, coincidentally, we’re going to dinner with the people with whom we split the lamb, and I may bring the camera so that future generations can reverently study our dinners. This weekend I have some plans for a pretty special meal, but until then this should tide you over.
I’ve been on a no-meat sort of run lately, trying to resist the cold-weather hankering for braises and such by digging deep into various traditions that know their way around some legumes. Tonight was burritos with quite good black-eyed peas, leftover brown rice, guacamole, and salsa I froze in September. Very satisfying, but not especially interesting or photogenic. Last night I made a version of something I first did a while back, with some unintentional differences as a result of poor planning. The result was still good to eat, I’m happy to report.
I’ve been working to replenish some of the sold ceramics because I miss using them, and I’ve also been messing around a bit with some new ideas. As I get closer to having all the dishes I want for my own use, I’m thinking in terms of future projects like pickling crocks and a sink for the bathroom.. But in the meantime it’s mostly plates and bowls that inspire me to cook food to go in/on them. And this woven basket thing, which for now makes a nice centerpiece for the dining room table, especially with the red runner we got as a Christmas gift.
A few posts back, I wrote about the flavor of caramelized radicchio and how it made an interesting connection in my mind. It tasted remarkably like the wonderful caramelized bottoms of the Roman-style artichokes that I love to make so much. Radicchio and artichokes are both in the sunflower family, so it makes sense that they would have a few flavor compounds in common, but I had never actually tasted the similarity before–probably because I almost never cook radicchio. So I started to think about using them together in something.
The ground here is approaching frozen, so tomorrow I’m going out to dig up all the potatoes and most of the carrots before they become inaccessible. The parsnips stay buried, and they are our special treat in march when the soil softens. On the one hand, it’s sad, because apart from some greens it means that there’s no more home-grown food for a while. On the other hand, it’s kind of exciting, because now I can indulge in buying vegetables, and allow myself to include some that were not grown in the immediate vicinity. It’s like my vegetable vacation, and I figure that since I buy almost none from April to December (and what I do buy during that time is local, always) then I can justify such luxuries.
I spent some time going back and forth about how fancy to make Thanksgiving this year. Last year was really simple, but the two before that were 11-course extravaganzas (2008, 2007). We have a wedding to attend on Saturday, so family will be in town, but some of them have to drive over an hour after dinner. So I decided to split the difference and make something in the 6-course range. I went shopping today and got what I think I need; if I forgot something I will make substitutions. And, in typical fashion, ours will be a turkey-free Thanksgiving.
Here’s that pork chop–the one that so generously provided the bone with which I made the stock that embellished the chicken roulade kabobs so handsomely. I had a busy weekend (ceramics sale and then return to Rhode Island to collect all the work from the gallery) so this will have to do until I empty the camera of pictures from intervening meals. Having said that, though, it was a good one.
After the better part of the week away in Rhode Island–Providence and Newport–it felt mighty good to get home. Something I realize more and more is how dependent I have become on the garden; even lazy weeknight phone-ins often rely on a dozen or so vegetables in various forms. Now the Biggest Little has a burgeoning local food scene, and I’ve eaten at two of the better restaurants in Providence: New Rivers and La Laiterie. (New Rivers was on a previous trip). There’s some very good work being done on several fronts to create a viable and sustainable local food economy; hell, even my alma mater RISD is now sourcing a significant portion of their cafeteria food locally, and using an innovative delivery system to make it feasible.
But the exigencies of travel and meetings and hanging a show and generally being away from home meant that too much of the food I ate was subpar. This was no leisurely gastronomic tour; this was a business trip. There was a bad burger, a good burger, a dozen decent oysters, and one excellent meal at La Laiterie, but there was also some awful road food and too much bad coffee and a salad that deserved a tribunal at the Hague. And there was some food that was fine, but that in the aggregate just sort of dragged the average down so that when I got home I felt thoroughly out of sorts, if also somewhat accomplished. There’s nothing quite like home cooking.
