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CSA Resources

Posted on October 30, 2011 by scope

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With the first snowfall already behind us (or at least slowly melting on the sidewalk out front here in the northeast), it is hard to believe that it might be time to think about your deep winter or next summer CSA (or Community Supported Agriculture, which basically means buying an advance “subscription” to a meat or produce farm for a season). But, having been relegated to the wait list more than once, I believe that it is best to be on top of reserving your space for the next season as soon as the farm allows. In the upcoming book Locavore in the City (more details to come by the end of the year!) I will include tips on choosing the best CSA for you. But, with online resources emerging and changing all the time, I want to help create a living resource list here on the web site. In the comment section, please leave the location and website for your favorite CSA sites – whether for individual farms or regional or national lists of participating farms – and I will periodically organize and update this master list to ensure that the sites are active and appropriate, although I can’t guarantee the business activities of the posted links. (Alternately, email me with links or corrections at locavoreinthecity (at) gmail (dot) com.) Here are a few links to get us started. I look forward to hearing about all of your favorite farms!

National and General CSA Resources

http://www.Localharvest.org

http://www.Rodaleinstitute.org

http://www.Biodynamics.com/csa

http://www.Eatwellguide.org

http://www.locavorenetwork.com

New England CSAs

Boston-area, Produce

Granby, MA http://www.redfirefarm.com/

Waltham, MA http://communityfarms.org/

Boston-area, Meat

Hardwick, MA http://www.chestnutfarms.org/

Posted in Resources Tagged community supported agriculture, CSA, farm share, locavore, meat share

A French Chef, Local Ingredients & What I Learned From Serving An Ugly Bird

Posted on January 12, 2011 by scope

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I hesitate to admit being even somewhat inspired by the movies, books and blogs about cooking the oeuvre of some famous chef’s recipes. I make up my own recipes, damn it, and isn’t that skill even better than being able to follow directions?

But… I am… a little. Maybe it’s the project-lover in me. Perhaps it is that I am truly impressed by technique and talent and many famous cookbook authors have that by the bushel. It could very well be that I – gasp! – recognize that I might learn something. Alas, whichever of the above it may be, I received Mastering the Art of French Cooking for Christmas (its absence from my cookbook shelf proof alone of my above assertions) and decided to try out some of the infamous Julia Child’s impeccable French techniques  – to the letter! – using local ingredients. My first foray is simple enough – roasted chicken and gravy.

 

I think I’m starting off on the wrong foot. Julia calls for one roasting chicken (from Chestnut Farms, check), one small chopped onion and carrot, butter, salt and oil. Already I’m chopping extra carrots, rutabegas, red and yellow onions, turnips and potatoes from my winter farm share. I do feel a bit petulant straying from the recipe before I even start warming up the oven. But still. How much could these additions affect the final product?

I must add that it is not as if I don’t ever use recipes. They are great to check for cooking times or temperatures, for the basics of a sauce to be altered or adapted based upon what is in season, or simply as inspiration for how to honor what ingredients I have on hand. I love recipes. I read them frequently. I just don’t follow them. They are, as my husband likes to say about most directives I encounter, merely a jumping off point.

But yet, this exercise is one of following a master, not proving my own prowess in the kitchen. Regardless, I leave the additional veggies in the pan and vow not to stray again.

So I: “sprinkle the inside of the chicken with the salt, and smear in half the butter.” Easy enough.

Next step: “Truss the chicken, page 237.”

I turn to page 237. I reflect upon the detailed instructions and consider whether I have an appropriate needle and white string. I know I own a crochet hook and turquoise yarn but doubt that will do the trick. I think to myself what’s the big deal? Isn’t it all for looks anyway? It’s taste that matters! and move on to the next step, my chicken floppy and awkward and decidedly untrussed. I continue to dry, butter and strew (too many!) vegetables, as directed, unfazed. I brown the chicken, breast up, for 15 minutes and baste it – “rapidly”! – before I am to turn it to… its side?

OK – who ever heard of a chicken roasting on its side? Has this ever been portrayed in movies? On the food network? Really? Plus, Julia et al., I am here to inform you that if the chicken isn’t trussed it doesn’t really STAY on its side very well. Regardless, I devise a plan, arranging the (incorrect amount and variety!) of vegetables around my sideways chicken to prop it up. I may not have a chef in the family, but I do have a builder for a father. This has certainly not been done rapidly and my oven has likely cooled off as Julia feared.

But now I have a system. Not exactly Julia’s-slash-classic-French-chef’s system, but a system nonetheless that roughly equivocates the recipe. I turn the chicken to the other side and then back again, basting with copious and directed amounts of butter and oil (no wonder French cooking is so delicious!) and eventually salt the bird when I estimate it is halfway cooked (not right away like I am often wont to do).

I am also dutifully listening for the “cooking noises” and eventual “rain of splutters” to tell me that my bird is cooking correctly and is nearing completion. Ordinarily I would…uhh… look up a recipe to help me estimate cooking time and then forget how big the bird was before I put it in the oven and then resort to sticking a meat thermometer in the thigh and pulling it out right before the arrow points to “poultry”. But Julia makes no mention of thermometers so I will listen and estimate. I thought my chicken was about 2 pounds but judging by her indication of “number of people served” I question my estimate – and having bought this from a local farmer there is no sticker indicating weight, so no amount of rooting around in the trash will produce an answer. According to Julia a 2-pounder would serve 2 or 3 people. Are these French people (whom we all known eat far more moderately than their American counterparts)? Or Americans (as we also know that Julia was cooking for our more robust audience)? If so, were these the relatively more svelte Americans of 1961? Was this number adjusted in subsequent editions as her country -men and -women all got hungrier and fatter?  I press on and look for further clues. This confounds me further: what is the difference between “ready to cook weight” and “undrawn weight (dressed weight)”? I assumed that mine is not dressed as I did not stuff it with anything, but alas I am not quite sure. And I thought I was a pretty good cook. I feel a bit stupid.

For somewhat amorphous reasons I settle on an estimated cooking time of around an hour. And then I lose track of time. My husband comes home. We open a bottle of wine – a Bordeaux that someone gave us for Christmas and is noted in Mastering… as a suggested wine pairing with the chicken. I am briefly confounded because she mentions a “light red wine” such as a Bordeaux-Medoc “or a rose” and I always thought a Bordeaux was heavy. My hub and I drink a fair bit of wine, but not often French, so I allow that this is a detail I may remember wrong. But I am following directions, so I pop the cork. I shush my husband when he tries to tell me about his day so I can listen for the aforementioned splutters. I open the door and not-rapidly gaze upon the chicken whose thigh is splayed out rather unattractively from my sideways-cooking jostling. This certainly seems to support the assertion that a cooked bird’s drumstick “can be moved in its socket” when it is fully cooked. I prick the thigh with a fork and I think its juices “run clear yellow”. (Question – is it clear? Or yellow? How can it be both?) I believe the chicken has been cooking for an hour and a half at this point, seeming to recall putting it in the oven at a time in the 40s and it is now 7:20, and it certainly has been more than an hour with all the basting and flipping and propping I have done.

I take out the bird and my too many vegetables and allow them to sit and rest. Phew, I knew enough to do this anyway. My husband puts a frozen round of bread in the oven while I make what is shaping up to be a pretty fantastic gravy. I don’t mince an additional shallot as Julia directs because of all the veggie bits that are clinging to the bottom of my roasting pan, nor do I really scoop out much of the fat. But I do have some homemade broth (ha! She calls for canned! I may be wrong, but mine is certainly better…) simmering on the stove. For perhaps the first time ever I actually make chicken gravy in the roasting pan – helped in part by the new-to-me pan I picked up a few months ago at a yard sale and re-found in the back of my cupboard this morning. I scrape up those bits and reduce the liquid, but it is hard to determine whether the remaining gravy equals “about ½ cup” because of how spread out in the pan it is. And wouldn’t I want more than a half-cup of gravy anyway? Following the recipe I season with salt and pepper but don’t add the additional butter, reasoning that the fat that makes up most of the liquid is pure butter from my excessive basting. I pour this delicious-looking liquid into a bowl, not having a gravy boat to my name.

In the dining room, after allowing for sufficient resting, my husband cuts into the chicken. It’s raw on the inside! How did this happen? Maybe it was only drizzling splutters when I thought I heard rain? Maybe the juice was more yellow than clear? I throw the entire platter of further-mangled and awkwardly-splayed bird and vegetables back into the roasting pan with its remnants of gravy. I am deflated. I have never served an undercooked bird before, nor has my platter ever looked so manhandled – so amateur. As a consolation we pour a glass of wine and muse about whether a Bordeaux-Medoc is, in fact, a different wine altogether than the one in our glass. We decide that it is. Another fail. Maybe all of this following directions stuff isn’t for me.

Yet, I am starting to hear splutters now. I think. But I don’t want to get too excited. Instead we dip some bread into the gravy. Man it is good. Like best-gravy-ever good. We each eat a second piece of consolation bread and gravy. Yum.

Back in the kitchen I stick the thermometer in the bird – it reads 190 – the American temperature at which to cook chicken, according to Julia, but a bit overdone for French tastes. At least it isn’t raw in the middle.

Back on our table my first attempt at Julia’s French technique for roasting chicken is a visual disaster. We eat with our eyes first, I’ve heard again and again, and I would be chagrined if I had planned to serve this to company. But, as it is, my hub is happy to have a whole chicken on the table, despite its splayed thighs and thermometer holes. The skin that remained unmarred is perfectly browned and the gravy is out of this world. Even the meat – twice heated and overcooked by Julia’s standards – is moist and flavorful. Perhaps she has something there with the trussing and butter and constant flipping. Perhaps I still have a few tricks I could learn if only I followed directions a little more often. Perhaps there is some benefit to once in awhile allowing myself to serve an ugly bird.

Provenance of Ingredients:

Chicken – Chestnut Farms

Vegetables – Red Fire Farm except

Carrots – our community garden

Butter – Narragansett Creamery

Salt – Maine-harvested sea salt

Pepper & Olive Oil – unknown/ faraway

Posted in Cooking, Preserving & Gardening, Food Culture & Essays Tagged chicken, cooking, CSA, farm share, farmer's market, french, julia child, local, locavore, root cellar, vegetables

Easy Cheater Pickles

Posted on September 2, 2010 by scope

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It was hot yesterday. So the last thing I wanted to do was boil anything on the stove. But yet I had picked up my weekly Red Fire Farm farm share and still had carrots, peppers, cukes and other assorted veggies left over from my garden and previous weeks of bounty, some of which were starting to look worse for wear. What to do to make sure none of this goes to waste?

I did some creative freezing (which I’ll detail in a later post) but was also inspired by a delicious little side of curried pickled veggies from Tupelo in Cambridge that my beau and I treated ourselves to a week ago. But since I wanted to keep my heating of things to a minimum, I first gathered all of the jars of pickles that were sitting in various stages of emptiness, in the fridge. I thinly sliced cucumbers and added them to my favorite brine, making sure there was enough liquid to cover them. Those I returned to the fridge as-is, to sit for at least a few days until I sample them.

I had one large jar of mostly brine, most likely from a pickling experiment earlier in the season, that tasted mostly of vinegar and salt, with some mustard seeds and peppercorns floating in the bottom. I hate to throw anything away – even pickle brine – so I strained the liquid and then added it to a sauce pan where I had toasted about a tablespoon of curry powder for a minute or so. To the curry-brine I added a tablespoon of honey and a little water, only because the vinegar was so strong to begin with. If I had liked the taste, I might have added equal parts distilled white vinegar and water. While I was waiting for that to boil I cleaned and par-boiled the beets and carrots that I intended to pickle. Peppers, cauliflower, onions would all work well in this, although not everything would need to be parboiled. (OK – truth here: I zapped them, covered in warm water, in the microwave for a few minutes just to take away the bite.) Once the veg were al dente I stuffed them back into the pickle jar and covered them with the boiling brine. I let the jar set out until it was room temp, and then I put it into the fridge for storage. I’ll wait a few days to taste these as well.

So: no wasted pickle brine, no wasted veg, and (almost) no cooking.

Posted in Cooking Tagged beets, canning, carrots, cucumber, curry pickles, farm share, localvore, locavore, peppers, pickles

The First CSA of the Season (or what to do with all those greens)

Posted on June 15, 2010 by scope

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This is not news: greens are the first, heartiest, most prolific edible that can be grown in the northeast. After the deep winter farm share pick-ups – where a pound of stemmy salad mache was a treat in early February – I learned to expect and accept this green (or greens) challenge. Unsurprisingly we got a bunch of various greens at the first regular farm share pick up of the season last Wednesday and I’ve been pulling out the stops since to use them in new and creative ways. Luckily we’ve found some local greenhouse tomatoes that rival the mid-summer fruits. These have been gracing our salads with goat cheese (I think I can stop identifying my dairy as local any more – it all is!) and shredded carrots. The tomatoes also made a star appearance in a caprese with Fiore mozzarella and basil from my garden.

But the braising greens were another challenge. To make the kale and bok choy more exciting, I modified a recipe I tried last year, using some mustard from Maine and my own spicy pickled cukes and shredded onion. Great as a side dish with dinner, or the next day cold over lettuce.

Saute a clove of spring garlic and a thinly sliced onion or a couple of scallions in oil (olive oil or mustard oil would be extra tasty). Meanwhile wash your greens well – don’t dry them. When the garlic is soft (maybe 2 or 3 minutes) add the damp greens. The heat should be around medium. Add a two or three tablespoons of pickle brine, some chopped pickled vegetables and a fat tablespoon of mustard. Cover the saute pan and let the greens wilt, flipping the contents with tongs a few times. When the greens are almost done to your liking (maybe 5 minutes later), uncover and let some of the steam burn off before serving.

Posted in Cooking, Food Culture & Essays Tagged farm share, garden, green living, greens, kale, locavore, pickles

Savory Sweet Potato Crisp

Posted on November 11, 2009 by scope

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Now that the CSA is over for the season (although I do have a deep winter subscription starting in February or March) and I am stocked up with half bushels of butternut squash, red onions and sweet potatoes, I have to start getting creative if I want to eat as locally as possible. Yet, how many ways can one make an orange vegetable taste, well, different? I’ve made sweet potato fries and sweet potato breakfast home fries. I’ve put them in fritattas and thrown them in soups. And I’ll certainly be putting them on my Thanksgiving table. Which is kind of where the inspiration for this dish came from. I had read about a savory sweet potato crisp (or streudel) recently, but couldn’t remember much about it other than the concept. So I thought I would experiment with my own version in an effort to have it perfected by that last Thursday of the month. This isn’t perfect yet, but it’s getting there….

Savory Sweet Potato Crisp

Chop 3 large sweet potatoes into 1 1/2″ pieces and then steam them until just soft – about 8 – 10 minutes. Then, like apple crisp, put them in a baking dish (9 x9 or 9 x 12). Season them with a few dashes of nutmeg, a touch of salt and pepper and chopped fresh sage. Put a half inch of liquid in the bottom – white wine, broth, apple cider or maybe even whiskey.

While the potatoes are steaming, cook 5 – 6 slices of good bacon (I used my meat share bacon, but would have loved Savenor’s applewood smoked bacon even more). When cooked to a crisp, drain on a paper towel until cool enough to crumble. Reserve the bacon fat (I did not say this was low-cal!). In a bowl mix together 2 cups of chunky breadcrumbs, 1 cup of chopped walnuts, the crumbled bacon, 1 T chopped sage and 1/2 T chopped rosemary. Pour the bacon fat on top and mix until a chunky “crisp-esque” crumble consistency is achieved.

Spread the topping on the chopped sweet potato and bake at 350 until topping is browned and the potatoes are very soft – maybe 30 minutes or so.

Posted in Cooking Tagged bacon, farm share, locavore, meat share, sage, sweet potato, walnuts

Green Tomato Curry

Posted on November 6, 2009 by scope

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In passing the other day, an acquaintance mentioned using green tomatoes to make curry. In truth I don’t recall much else about the conversation, but with a second frost coming this week, I knew it was time to pick the last of the crop. I ended up with about 2 pounds of green tomatoes and a vague vision of what I was going to do with them. Roast them like tomatillos, then cook them like a fresh ripe tomato marinara. And add curry. And the pork I’ve had defrosted for the last few days, but was too busy to cook up. And it will be good. I was right.

Green Tomato Curry

I halved and roasted (at 400 for about 25 minutes) about 2 pounds of unripe green tomatoes. Meanwhile, I turned on the slow cooker on high and toasted 1 – 2 T of curry powder in it with nothing else to start to bring out its flavor, stirring every once in a while. After 15 minutes I added a thinly sliced onion from the farm share. Once the tomatoes were quote soft, I added them to the slow cooker and then just about covered them with 2 cups of chicken broth (leftover from risotto a few days prior). I let it get good and hot – maybe another 5 minutes – and then added some thin boneless pork cutlets (from our meat share). I put the top on and let it cook for 2 – 3 hours.

This was a thinnish sauce, perfect for serving over rice. (I also steamed some carrots and butternut squash to add to the dish – if I was making more of this and cooked it on the stove top, I would have added it right to the sauce.) The pork was so tender – the best result I’ve had yet with this particular cut from our meat share. I definitely think this experiment is worth re-creating and adapting to what one has on hand. I wouldn’t say I could taste the green tomatoes, it was just a perfect, healthy and local vehicle for the curry, pork, squash and carrot.

Posted in Cooking Tagged butternut squash, carrots, curry, farm share, green tomatoes, locavore, meat share, pork

Lovage: The Celery-Tasting Herb

Posted on August 8, 2009 by scope

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I was never a fan of celery growing up – the ants on log, so beloved by afterschool snackers everywhere – were left with the logs licked clean. Even into adulthood, I eschewed the watery, stringy vegetable.

Until a few summers ago when my farm share gave me a fresh head (are they heads?). I fell in love with the fresh, clean, almost spicy flavor of good celery. It’s still a bit early for actual celery in the farm share, but this past week I was offered a bunch of the herb lovage. I read about it when I returned home – it is a hearty perennial plant with a strong celery-like flavor. And its stalks are hollow (I’m thinking bloody maries!).

I chopped some finely and added it to a purple potato salad (1 1/2 lbs cooked potatoes, very thinly sliced spring onions, chopped dill, and just enough mayo to cover it all with salt and pepper to taste). Honestly, I erred on the conservative side after reading internet warnings of how pungent the herb is – but I could have added another tablespoon and had even more of that celery punch. I will definitely plant some next year because (I have to say it!) I lovage lovage.

Posted in Cooking, Gardening Tagged cooking, CSA, dill, farm share, herbs, locavore, lovage, potato salad, purple potatoes, sustainable

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