Munching on Mulberries

Ojai's farmers' market was bursting with summer fruit yesterday. Baskets of cherries, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries and raspberries were everywhere, but my eye went to the odd-looking mulberries from Pudwill Farm. I wasn't sure if I'd like them so I picked up some blackberries and golden raspberries too.

Take a look at those long mulberries on the left. They have a distinctive taste, a nice flavor boost to my cereal this morning. I've learned they have a very short shelf life, even in the fridge (no wonder I've never seen them in the store), so I'll be eating them quickly and often in the next day or two. Mulberries and creme fraiche for dessert tonight!

Lettuce Make Another Salad

I got off to a late start planting my vegetable garden this spring. I knew I'd have to wait until after hip surgery in mid-February, and then when I felt well enough to get outside, I quickly discovered that leaning way down to plant at ground level wasn't going to happen. There was only one solution: invest in raised beds that would bring the working area up to a height I could tolerate without bending over. By the time the beds were delivered, positioned, filled with good planting soil, and irrigation installed, the ideal time for planting lettuce in Southern California was almost passed. With hot weather bearing down on me, but still determined to put in some lettuce, I made my way to Flora Gardens nursery to see what was possible.

Most of the cool-season lettuces were no longer available, but a lovely purple-red lettuce caught my eye: Midnight Ruffles Red Romaine. It sounded like a name for a pedigreed race horse so I was convinced it would be a winner. Two days after planting the seedlings, the temperature shot up to the high-90s, a death sentence for most lettuce. The only thing I could do was to keep it well-watered and hope for the best. For several unseasonably hot weeks I fretted and hovered, and my lettuce seedlings hung in there. Against all odds, I am now harvesting beautiful ruby-red lettuce.

This is a lettuce with a pronounced flavor, not bitter, but assertive, so when I make a salad I pair it with other equally assertive-tasting ingredients. At the Ojai Farmers' Market, I found a Green Butter Oak Leaf lettuce, a red onion, tomatoes, and a sweet red bell pepper for color and crunch. Back at home, I added some crumbled Greek feta cheese and topped the whole thing with a yogurt-based ranch dressing. Paired with a boule of freshly baked artisan bread and a medium-bodied California chardonnay, I had a meal fit for a queen. A winner, indeed.

We're Not in Kansas Anymore

Another road trip to Santa Cruz, this time to catch my granddaughter's dance performance with her baile folklorico group. This company of about two dozen little girls and a couple of brave boys practice for months under the tutelage of very dedicated Mexican-American instructors who insist on keeping every detail of the dance steps, props and the costumes as authentic as possible. Even the girls' hair and makeup conform to a strict set of rules: tight braids, no curls, colorful ribbons woven into each braid; eye shadow in multiple bright shades, lots of mascara, blush and lipstick.

The instructors handle so many dance groups, ranging in age from the very youngest to older teens, that it has evolved into a major community fiesta called "La Guelaguetza" that celebrates the indigenous communities of the Mexican state of Oaxaca, birthplace to many residents of Santa Cruz. It is so big in fact that lengthy and dramatic proclamations are read by all the local politicians as well as the Mexican Consul General in San Jose, every one greeted with a deafening chorus of "Vive Oaxaca!"

Grilled nopales and butterflied chorizo.

The twin highlights of Guelaguetza are the dance groups in colorful native costumes from all over Oaxaca, and dozens of vendors of tantalizing foods and drinks. I thought I had a passable understanding of Mexican food, but everything here was new to me. Women in traditional dresses grilled nopales and chorizo with onions and chiles. Huge, round blue corn tortillas were toasted crisp then slathered with beans, grilled beef, avocados, sliced cabbage and cheese -- the traditional "tlayuda," a complete meal in itself. I gobbled up a cup of "nieve de nuez," a light ice milk made from finely crushed walnuts, and then tucked into a leche quemada (burnt milk). And there was a huge variety of pan dulce to satisfy any sweet tooth.

Blue corn "tlayudas" hot off the grill.

Pastries are packed into baskets lined with colorful paper.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that my weekend in Santa Cruz also included a piroshki lunch in a Russian deli and a lamb kabob dinner at the local Greek Festival, but those are stories for another time. It's hard to imagine more cultural diversity anywhere in just two short days. The flavors and smells and languages being spoken around me were totally foreign but absolutely fascinating, and reminded me that it's good to leave home every now and then.

The Fish Taco Debate

I had been cooped up for way too long while recovering from surgery (I am now the proud owner of a brand new hip), when I made a last-minute decision to make the long drive up the coast to see my family. It's not an easy trip when you're the only driver covering the 300 miles without any relief, but the scenery is gorgeous in the spring and I've made the drive so many times in the past that I know how to find every NPR radio station between Ojai and Santa Cruz to keep me amused.

It was somewhere around Paso Robles that one of my favorite NPR shows came on the air: The Splendid Table, a series of engaging dialogues between the host and a variety of chefs, food historians, nutritionists, culinary writers as well as listeners who call in with questions and comments. One of the first callers, who sounded like an experienced and knowledgeable cook, inquired about a good recipe for fish tacos, although when she described the way she prepared this favorite Mexican dish, I was convinced that hers was a very authentic recipe and I wondered why she was asking for recommendations.

The host, Lynne Rossetto Kasper, said she likes rubbing orange zest and garlic into the fish before grilling or frying it in a simple batter. Okay, I thought, that sounded interesting, although probably not authentically Mexican. But the key to a perfect fish taco, she insisted, was the crema which should be blended with minced garlic, chopped cilantro and lime juice. I agreed, but raised an eyebrow at how she made "crema": half sour cream, half mayonnaise. But here's where Ms. Kasper  really lost me: she suggested topping the taco with finely sliced iceberg lettuce. "What!" I shouted at my car radio. Even the caller reacted with a gasp. "Oh no," she couldn't help blurting out, "fish tacos are always served with green cabbage, never lettuce."

As soon as I got home, I looked up several recipes for fish tacos to see if I could settle the lettuce vs. cabbage debate. Of course, I couldn't. I decided it was a regional proclivity. Those of us on the West Coast seem to cleave to the way they are made in Mexico (cabbage), while residents in other parts of the country are willing to substitute iceberg or Romaine lettuce. Californians have easy access to authentic Mexican crema and wouldn't dream of using anything but the real thing. Others will just have to made do with sour cream and mayo until their markets expand their ethnic product line.

In the meantime, here's a recipe I selected from the many I found. The rub for the fish imparts a very nice smoky flavor which I particularly like, and the crema is authentic. And yes, so is the shredded cabbage.

Fish Tacos with Cilantro Lime Crema

For the crema:
1/4 Cup thinly sliced green onions
1/4 Cup fresh cilantro, chopped fine
1/2 Cup Mexican crema
1 1/2 Teaspoons fresh lime juice
1/4 Teaspoon salt
1 clove garlic, minced

Combine above ingredients in a small bowl and set aside.

For the tacos:
1 Teaspoon ground cumin
1 Teaspoon ground coriander
1/2 Teaspoon smoke paprika
1/4 Teaspoon ground red pepper
1/8 Teaspoon salt
1/8 Teaspoon garlic powder

1 pound white fish fillets like snapper or Talapia
Corn tortillas
1 Avocado, sliced thin
2 Cups shredded cabbage

Combine the seasonings in a small bowl and sprinkle the mixture evenly over the fish fillets. Spray a sheet of foil with cooking spray and fit into a shallow baking pan. Bake at 425 until fish flakes easily, about 10 minutes. Remove from oven and break up the fish with a fork. Heat the tortillas until warm and pliable. Divide the fish evenly among the tortillas and top with a spoonful of crema. Garnish with shredded cabbage, thinly sliced avocado and cilantro leaves. Other optional toppings: chopped jalapeno, tomatoes or red onions.

Crack open a cold Dos Equis.

French Onion Soup and the Big Chill

It has been unbelievably cold in Southern California. Coming in at 15-20 degrees below normal temperatures for January, this cold snap has broken all previous records and has us all shivering and complaining. It's been colder here in sunny California than in Boston, Chicago, or Portland, Maine for crying out loud! Wind machines in the nearby orchards have run all night for a week now, trying to keep the frost from settling on the citrus. Inside my house, the furnace has never put in so many hours, chugging along day and night. I don't want to leave the house any more than I absolutely must because it's just too cold out there. All I want to do is snuggle up in layers of fleece and read a good book. And consume bowls of hot soup.

Just in time to keep me from freezing to death, the talented folks at America's Test Kitchen recently published a recipe that caught my interest: French onion soup. Just the ticket for living with The Big Chill. Not only is onion soup nourishing for body and soul, it takes a long time to make which fills the house with the aroma of onions slowly browning in butter then slowly simmering in stock.

When I've made soupe a l'oignon in the past, I always found the first step -- browning and stirring onions on the stove top for an hour or two -- to be really tedious. The test kitchen folks suggest it is also unnecessary. Yes, you still have to plan on a long afternoon in the kitchen, but this recipe lets the oven do much of the tedious work, so you're freed up for an hour at a time to do other things, a welcome solution to a multi-tasker like me.

French Onion Soup

3 Tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
6 Large yellow onions (about 4 pounds). Vidalia and Maui onions are too sweet.
2 Cups water, plus extra for deglazing
1/2 Cup dry sherry
4 Cups chicken broth
2 Cups beef broth
4 Sprigs fresh thyme
1 Bay leaf
1 Small baguette cut into 1/2-inch slices
8 Ounces Gruyere cheese, shredded (about 2-1/2 cups)

Adjust the oven rack to the lower-middle position and heat to 400 degrees. You'll need a large Dutch oven, big enough to hold 2 quarts of liquid plus all the onions.

While the oven is heating up, peel the onions and cut each lengthwise, then place each half cut side down and slice from pole to pole into slices about 1/4 inch wide.

Tuck the herbs into a muslin bouquet garni bag, or tie them together into a tidy little bundle.

Spray the pot generously with non-stick spray, then add the butter. Add the sliced onions and 1 teaspoon of salt. Cover and cook for an hour in the oven. Remove from oven and stir. The onions will be softened and slightly reduced in volume.

Return the pot to the oven with the lid slightly ajar and cook another hour. Again, remove the pot and stir the onions which by now will be browned and very soft.

Return the pot to the oven for another 45 minutes, then remove the pot and stir, scraping down the sides and the crusty bits on the bottom. By now, the onions have spent almost 3 hours in a hot oven.

Now place the pot on medium-high heat and continue to cook the onions, stirring frequently to incorporate all the browned, crusty bits, until all the liquid evaporates. Reduce the heat if the onions start to scorch. De-glaze the pot with a small amount of water, and stir until another crust forms on the bottom of the pot. Repeat this deglazing process another 2-3 times until the onions are very dark brown. Stir in the sherry and cook, stirring frequently, until the sherry evaporates.

Stir in the two broths, 2 cups of water, the herbs and 1/2 teaspoon salt, scraping any browned bits off the sides and bottom of the pot. Increase the heat to high and when the soup starts to simmer, reduce the heat to low, cover and simmer for 30 minutes. Discard the herbs then season to taste with salt and pepper.

While the soup is simmering, arrange the baguette slices on a baking sheet and bake in the 400-degree oven until the bread is crisp and turning golden at the edges. If you're serving the soup immediately, sprinkle the baguette slices with the cheese and brown under the broiler, then place 1-2 slices atop each bowl of soup. If you are using broiler-proof soup bowls, you can do this in one step, placing the baguettes and cheese on top of each filled soup bowl, then placing the soup bowls under the broiler. Serves 6.

The soup has a delicious, deep flavor as soon as it's cooked, but it's even better the next day. Serve with a hearty salad of greens, nuts and dried fruit and a robust red wine. Comfort food for winter.

Christmas Miracles

Not every holiday miracle comes wrapped in pretty paper and tied with a bow. This one happened in the kitchen.

Doug was home for the Christmas break and he and his friends were planning a New Year's Eve party. To cut costs, they decided not to pay inflated restaurant prices and after much texting back and forth, it was decided that my house would be the location of choice and the menu would be potluck. Doug scurried about tidying up the house, laid in some champagne, and then tucked into a cookbook to decide what he would make for the party.

This in itself is a minor miracle since in all his years, I have never seen Doug express any interest whatsoever in cooking. Intrigued by this new persona, I watched him study a new cookbook he'd bought for Bryn called Burma: Rivers of Flavor. Yes, that's correct: Doug The Inexperienced One was going to skip right past familiar American food and prepare a Burmese dish for his friends!

After some consideration, he chose a shrimp salad with ingredients that were easy to find in little ol' Ojai and lo and behold, he produced a beautiful dish that was the hit of the party.

Burmese Shrimp Salad

2 Tablespoons peanut oil or shallot oil
1 Pound medium or large shrimp, peeled, deveined and rinsed, then patted dry
3 Scallions, halved lengthwise and thinly sliced
1/2 Medium English cucumber
2 Tablespoons cilantro, chopped
1 Serrano chile, seeded and minced
1/4 Teaspoon red chile powder
1 Teaspoon fish sauce
2 Tablespoons fresh lime juice
Salt to taste

First, make the shallot oil by slicing a shallot thinly and frying in peanut oil over medium-high heat, about 10-12 minutes. When the shallot slices are golden brown, removed them from the oil, drain on a paper towel and let cool. Set aside for another use, like topping a green salad or a casserole. Set aside the shallot oil, all but 2 tablespoons, to use in salad dressings or whatever recipe calls for a onion-garlic flavored oil.

Place 2 tablespoons of the oil in a wok or wide skillet and heat until a test piece of scallion starts to sizzle when dropped in the oil, then start adding the shrimp. Stir-fry the shrimp until they turn pink, only about a minute or two. Transfer the shrimp to a cutting board and when they are cool, cut into small pieces.

Cut the cucumber into 1-1/2-inch lengths and julienne. You should wind up with about a cup. Add the scallions, cucumber, cilantro and chile to the shrimp and toss lightly. Add the fish sauce and lime juice and toss to mix well. Taste and add a little salt if necessary, toss once more and serve immediately.

To add just a bit more flavor and texture, Doug added some crushed roasted peanuts just before serving. This salad is refreshing and crunchy and very welcome on a table laden with dishes rich in cheese or cream. And, the miracle is that Doug made it!

This recipe serves 4-6, but Doug doubled the recipe to feed his group of 12, and it worked beautifully.

Making Do on Turkey Day

I spent the day before Thanksgiving pretty much in a funk. With no family coming for the holiday, and no invitation to join others, I was wallowing in self-pity. Around mid-afternoon I decided to take control of things and plunged head-long into the maelstrom of supermarket shoppers to buy me a Thanksgiving dinner, by god.

The parking lot was choked with the stressed, the rushed, and the pissed off, all vying for limited parking spaces. Inside, every cart was loaded with enough ingredients to cook for several neighborhoods. Not me. I was into short cuts. No fun cooking from scratch for myself, I decided, so I grabbed the very last cooked turkey breast in the warming drawer and headed to the deli counter for cranberry sauce, the packaged goods aisle for stuffing-in-a-box and an envelope of generic and tasteless brown gravy mix. Next, the freezer section for a frozen pumpkin pie. The only concession I made for fresh food was one sweet potato. Done!

Thanksgiving dawned warm and sunny, and after dawdling on the patio with the morning paper and a cup of coffee, I assembled the ingredients for my feast-for-one to decide my "cooking" strategy. It was so simple: everything could go into a 350 degree oven starting with the frozen pie which required a couple of hours of cooling time, followed by the potato, the stuffing and, finally the turkey breast which just needed warming up.

In the end, I think it was about creating the aromas and sounds of Thanksgiving that I craved: the savory stuffing browning off in the oven and a football game on the TV in the background. I also realized that I had been true to the traditions I had been brought up with -- a meal that tasted like home and was surprisingly good. Minus my mother's green bean, mushroom soup and fried onion casserole. I just couldn't do it.