Knit Think

Friday food

Before we commence with the food pictorial, I must say: I'm in mourning.

It's the Friday of Labor Day weekend, and all the little farm stands that sell the world's best corn on the cob have already closed for the season. This is a catastrophe. I don't buy corn at stores. I buy it at farm stands. I'm a lifetime corn snob. And now there's none. I'm too late for a Labor Day corn feed. Sigh.

Well, for those of you have still have farm stands open or who (heretics) buy your corn at the grocery store, here's today's Friday food.

This week I've experimented with different ways to flavor corn on the cob. Can you guess what's on the above cob?

Bacon grease.

Oh, don't wrinkle your nose and act all disgusted (except for the vegetarians in the crowd--I'll excuse your dismay). This is very, very tasty. Messy, greasy, drippy, yes--and delicious.

Then there's this possibility:

Fresh lime juice, chili powder, and sour cream. Who knew?

I didn't. So you see I was cautious at first run, just seasoning a tip of the corn. But after one bite, I doused the whole cob in these three fine, fine ingredients. Oh so tasty.

But when it comes right down to it, it's hard to beat the basics:

Good ol' butter. Yum. Again with the drippiness and the messiness, and again with the who-cares-iness.

Happy Labor Day, everyone--hope you still have local corn to eat.

Here we are now

What is this song all about
Can’t figure any lyrics out
How do the words to it go?
I wish you’d tell me, I don’t know
Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know, oh no
Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know...

Wow! The Fair! So much fun!

Even more important, so much food.

But first, a note of personal sadness. Upon arrival at the Fair, I made a beeline for the cheese curds, because those are, well, those are the Fair to me. The quintessential Fair food (sorry, I don't like pronto pups--heresy, I know). And I had my little box of cheese curds, salty and squeaky and fatty. And good. But not as good as I remembered. And they gave me indigestion.

Am I getting old?

And I forgot the next verse
Oh well, I guess it pays to rehearse
The lyric sheets so hard to find
What are the words? oh, nevermind
Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know, oh no
Don’t know, don’t know, don’t know...

So I had to spend some time walking off the indigestion. I lost valuable eating time. It was a sad situation. Although on the plus side, I had plenty of time to walk around the Creative Activities building and see all the knitting and quilting. So many, many beautiful things. Sorry, no pictures. I went unencumbered with a camera so I could concentrate on eating.

Finally I felt better and could commence with the Fair piggery. Youngest Son and I shared some spaghetti on a stick--eh. I bought the lamb on a stick--oh man. SO good. The stick is a joke--but the lamb is not. Local lamb, wonderfully seasoned, grilled to perfection. Yum.

The Uffda brat? Sausage wrapped in mashed potatoes and sauerkraut, stuffed into a piece of lefse? Yuck. One bite and that was gone. And as always, our trip to the Fair ended with the purchase of a bucket of Sweet Martha's chocolate chip cookies to enjoy on the bus ride home, and some for the next day. Not many the next day, though.

But the real find? Oh boy. As my friend Paula would say, I'm getting the squirts just thinking about it:

Cream-cheese-stuffed deep-fried dill pickles. Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Now that was true Nirvana.

Speaking of Nirvana...Weird Al was a riot. I forget how funny he can be. And holy smokes, costume changes for just about every song, plus funny videos (including an especially funny one involving Kevin Federline that had a priceless sight gag). He did all the best ones: the Star Wars Suite, White & Nerdy, Amish Paradise, and even You're Pitiful.

But of course, the best was his Kurt Cobain imitation for Smells Like Nirvana. (Note to Carole: See, I never milk anything for a blog entry.)

Well, we don’t sound like Madonna
Here we are now, we’re Nirvana
Sing distinctly? We don’t wanna
Buy our album, we’re Nirvana
A garage band from Seattle
Well, it sure beats raising cattle
Yeah

Goin' to the Fair

Today's the annual trip to the State Fair. My wallet is packed with cash to squander on all kinds of bad things. It's a given that I will have cheese curds, fried pickles, and fried green tomatoes. It's also a given that I will NOT have deep-fried Twinkies and candy bars (been there, done that, made me sick).

So which of these options should I choose:

Spam burger
Lamb on a stick
Beergarita (yes, a margarita made with beer)
Deep-fried smelt
Apple fries
Uffda Brat (pork/beef sausage, dressed with mashed potatoes and sauerkraut, wrapped in lefse)
Peanut-butter infused hot dog
Fried fruit on a stick
Reuben on a stick

Sloppy Joe on a stick

I understand there's a fresh fruit stand too...but geez, that's awfully healthy. Reminds me of one year we overheard a little boy ask his mom for cotton candy, and she said no, that's not healthy. And I thought, why go to the Fair, if that's your attitude???

But I have to walk a fairly moderate food line...because tonight is the last installment of the Summer of Fun: Weird Al!

Friday food

Oh boy! It's almost lunchtime! What should I have?

Hmmm....well, I'm awfully fond of this combination at any time of day or night:

Bacon and eggs. Can't go wrong with that combination.

But wait...my little garden patch is now yielding some lovely ripe tomatoes. And I have lettuce. So maybe...

BLT! Yum.

But...I dunno...bacon and eggs or BLT? Bacon and eggs? BLT?

Here's the solution:

BLT with fried eggs!

I saw this over at Say La Vee, and it's been stuck in my head ever since. And you know what? I'm glad it did, because boy, was it tasty. Combining two excellent traditions into one big sloppy sandwich makes for pure lunchtime joy.

Then it occurred to me that maybe, instead of eggs and lettuce, I could use fresh mozzarella and basil, for sort of a bacon caprese sandwich. I bet that'd be good.

Oh hell. Add the egg too.

For the record? There's also mayo on this sandwich. And butter. Because bacon doesn't have enough fat all by itself.

Naming small towns

Greetings. Now I am back from northwestern MN. Not that there's anything wrong with NW MN, but I did not place any phone calls to DH, suggesting he pack up and move there with me.

See, the thing is, this is the agricultural area around the Red River Valley. Doesn't that sound poetic and lovely? Red River Valley. In reality, it's miles--and miles and miles and miles and miles--of flat agricultural crops. At first, the sight of acres full of sunflowers cheered me immensely. Oh! Sunflowers! So yellow, so vibrant! Then there were corn stalks. Then more sunflowers. So cheerful! So hopeful! Then more corn. And more sunflowers. OK--more sunflowers. Then more corn. Then more sunflowers. Wow, they sure grow a lot of sunflowers up here. And more corn. And more %@&* sunflowers. And more corn. And finally--soybeans.

75 miles of this.

So I began contemplating, on this day that saw me add 500 miles to my car's odometer, many of which were through flat, boring stretches of %$&@ sunflowers, how small towns are named. Some are no-brainers: Bemidji and Mahnomen, Native American names. Grand Marais, French. International Falls--heck, there used to be falls there, right in the little city on the border between the U.S. and Canada. Tenstrike--named after a logging baron, at least in his own mind, referred to the little village as his "lucky tenstrike" (as in bowling). Finland--oh, c'mon, take a wild guess where that name came from.

But what about the other towns? Like Embarrass, renowned for having some of the coldest temps in the U.S. during the winter. It is not, as legend would tell you, a name based on embarrassment. No, it's also based on a French term, "embarras," which apparently means "to hinder or cause difficulty," a name bestowed by French traders who found nearby rivers difficult to traverse. OK. Makes sense. Moorhead? Named after a railroad bigshot. Cook used to be called by a Native American name, Ashawa, but for reasons unknown, it was changed to Cook. By the way, you can get a very nice patty melt and Diet Pepsi at the Montana Cafe in Cook. Just so you know.

But who on earth thought this was a good name for a town?

I mean, really.

There's a school. Would you want to say you graduated from Climax High?

What the hell's the name of the mascot?

Apparently the town is happy with its name. They put it on the water tower.

Perhaps it was just created to amuse poor lost traveling souls like me who were driven nearly insane by sunflowers.

Friday food

Behold the lowly eggplant.

Why is this lovely food called eggplant here? Elsewhere, they call them aubergines. What would you rather eat--an eggplant or an aubergine?

At any rate, this charming vegetable appeared in my CSA box a couple of weeks ago. As I am the only one at Chez Knit Think who willingly eats this vegetable, I began to search for a recipe that would make it appetizing to at least some of the other residents. Besides the dog. It was time to pop open the ultimate guide to vegetables: Passionate Vegetarian by Crescent Dragonwagon. (Related note: Ms. Dragonwagon has a new book coming out this fall, and if you've read any of her other books, you'll look forward to this one: The Cornbread Gospels. Her books are wonderfully readable.)

As I suspected, Ms. Dragonwagon came to the rescue. First I needed a few other ingredients, some of which were also in the CSA box:

Mmmm...scallions, garlic, ginger, thyme, and--what's that? Those little orange peppers? They're called habanero chiles. But they are also called Scotch Bonnets. How can you not love a food called a Scotch Bonnet? Especially when that name implies something, I dunno, dainty and quaint. That would be a tease--ain't nothing dainty about Scotch Bonnets. They'll burn the hair right off your head if you're not careful.

The recipe called for a Jamaican Wet-Jerk Marinade to marinate eggplant slices overnight, then the eggplant/aubergine pieces were coated in a breadcrumb/cereal/egg (or soy milk, for vegans) mixture and baked. The result?

They may not be purty, but dang, flavor was not lacking. If you like spicy, this is definitely for you. It was too spicy for some members of the household, but others found it delightful. And there was none left for poor Gracie.

Oven-Roasted Jerk Eggplant

Reprinted with permission from Crescent Dragonwagon

Serves 4

2 whole eggplants, stems removed, sliced vertically into 10 to 12 “fillets” (discard skinny end pieces that are mostly skin)

1 ½ to 2 cups Jamaican Wet-Jerk Marinade (recipe follows)

1 cup crisp, fine breadcrumbs

½ cup crushed Nutri-Grain or other no-sugar-added corn- or wheat flake cereal

¼ cup unbleached white all-purpose flour

¼ cup nutritional yeast

1 teaspoon paprika

A touch of salt and freshly ground black pepper

1 ½ teaspoons vegetable oil

2 large eggs, beaten, or, for vegans, 1/3 cup plain full-fat soy milk (optional)

Cooking spray or olive oil spray

1. Place the eggplant in cold salted water, weighting them down so they stay submerged. Soak for 30 to 45 minutes. Drain well, rinse, and pat dry.
2. Rub the Jamaican Wet-Jerk Marinade into the cut sides of the eggplant, making sure every surface is well coated. Place the jerk-rubbed eggplant in a nonreactive container with a cover or in zippered freezer bags. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours, preferably overnight.
3. Preheat the oven to 450°F. At the same time, place a baking sheet in the oven.
4. Remove the jerk-marinated eggplant from the refrigerator and let it come to room temperature.
5. Combine the breadcrumbs, cereal flakes, flour, nutritional yeast, paprika, and salt and pepper in a large, shallow dish. Stir in the vegetable oil.
6. In a separate bowl, combine the beaten eggs and ¼ cup water, preferably spring or filtered (vegans, use rice or soy milk, omitting the eggs and water). Set aside.
7. Line a tray with waxed paper. Working with one eggplant slice at a time, dip the eggplant into the crumb mixture, then into the egg mixture (or soy milk), then back into the crumbs. At this point the eggplant slices will be rather huge and bristly with crumbs. (This is a somewhat messy process, especially when it comes to the egg-then-redip phase; you may have to assist with your fingertips, pressing the crumbs into any bald spots so the entire piece is coated with two layers of crumb and one of egg.) Place the crumbed piece on the prepared tray. Repeat the breading until all of the eggplant is coated.
8. Lower the oven temperature to 375°F.
9. Remove the hot baking sheet from the oven. Quickly but thoroughly spray it with cooking spray or oil (or give it a swipe with a paper towel dipped in vegetable oil). Place the coated eggplant on the hot baking sheet. Bake until somewhat browned, 30 to 40 minutes. Remove the baking sheet from the oven and carefully turn the slices. Return to the oven and bake until crisp and golden, about another 25 minutes. Serve hot.

Jamaican Wet-Jerk Marinade

This recipe specifies that many of the spices be freshly ground. It’s more delicious done that way, but the dish will be fine if you use preground spices (as long as they’re reasonably fresh). I say this because for many of us, grinding all those spices is too labor intensive; however, if you have a spice mill or coffee grinder that you use specifically for that purpose, it’s no big deal.

2 bunches scallions (15 to 20), roots and any wilted green parts removed

½ cup loosely packed thyme, any tough stems removed

2 to 3 Scotch bonnet or habanero chiles, stemmed and quartered

5 to 7 cloves garlic, peeled and chopped

¼ cup peeled, finely minced ginger

¼ cup mild vegetable oil, such as corn, canola, or peanut

1 tablespoon freshly ground allspice

1 tablespoon freshly ground black pepper

1 tablespoon freshly ground coriander seeds

1 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

1 teaspoon freshly ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons salt

Juice of 1 lemon or lime

Place the scallions and thyme in a food processor, then add the chiles, garlic, ginger, and oil. Pulse/chop a few times. Add the allspice, pepper, coriander seeds, nutmeg, and cinnamon, as well as the salt and lemon or lime juice. Buzz, scraping down the sides of the work bowl several times, until you have a compact, chunky paste. Use as directed in a specific recipe, or store, covered and refrigerated, for up to 5 days.

How time flies

...when you lose your internet for three (yes! Three!) days, then go out of town for five days. Goodness sakes.

I have just returned from the splendor that is the North Shore (no, I'm not being sarcastic--while in Grand Marais, I called DH and suggested he pack up the boys and Gracie and come on up so we could start our new life, and we'd have the furniture sent later. Oddly, he declined). So much to tell--but as my book deadline approaches, it will have to wait.

Except to mention that I visited three different yarn stores along the way. I may or may not have purchased a few items. Completely unnecessary items. I may have pictures of the stores somewhere in the nearly 500 pictures I took. If I ever find them, I'll be happy to post them. My favorite store, though, was Playing with Yarn in Knife River. First of all, it's right on Lake Superior, and the owner had the store windows open, so I got to listen to the soothing sounds of waves lapping the shore while I shopped. Maybe that's a dark secret: maybe she uses the lake to hypnotize people into buying things! But also, her shop is attached to her home, so I got meet her three dogs, and we had a spirited dog-lover's conversation as well.

I even managed to find knitting items in an unlikely location: The Judy Garland Museum in Grand Rapids. Yes, Dorothy was born right here in Minnesota, in a charming old house that apparently used to be on a charming small town street, but to accommodate tourists, they moved the house out to the highway, across from Home Depot. I think perhaps it loses something in the translation. The Museum staff is still smarting over the theft of the Ruby Slippers in 2005; one thing I found on this trip was that people who work and/or volunteer in these little museums tend to be very passionate about these places and what they stand for, and the loss of Dorothy's infamous shoes has caused some severe grieving.

In any event, it was an interesting stop, and of course I had to visit the gift shop, where I found:

A Ruby Slipper notepad! And:

a Wicked Witch tape measure!

Now it's back to reality, including the delayed segment of Friday Food tomorrow. But in the meantime, if anyone is thinking of visiting Grand Marais and would like the name of a heavenly B & B on the Gunflint Trail, secluded and lovely, welcoming hosts, and a totally kickass breakfast, let me know.

A new kind of Friday Eye Candy

Miss T. started a new item for Fridays last week, involving raiding her massive collection of cookbooks and making recipes she's never tried before (see the new button on the right sidebar). I think that's a lovely idea. I don't have quite the collection she does, but I'm going to extend the concept and include the drawers full of recipes from magazines, friends, the internet, and newspapers, that I have piled up with the best of intentions and the worst of follow-through.

Besides, food is all about the comfort, and after a week like this one, ending the week with some soul-satisfying eats can't be bad. The Star-Tribune had an article this morning about people bringing large donations of food and drink to the recovery workers at the bridge collapse. The old impulse: if you can't fix the situation, you can at least feed someone.

There are so many ethnic/cultural stereotypes regarding food, and yet many of them (Jewish, Italian, northern Minnesotan Scandinavian Lutheran) have a similar, universal focus on food as love (or guilt--or maybe both at the same time). I've heard that in China, cleaning your plate is an insult, because it implies that you were not given enough food to start with. Growing up in northern Minnesota in a thoroughly passive-aggressive-Scandinavian-Lutheran community, not cleaning your plate would have been an equally large insult. In fact, not cleaning your plate at least three times meant you did not feel the love. Or return it properly. So, not surprisingly, I turn to food at all times of life: crisis, joy, boredom, and just out of sheer love of flavor.

Hence, today I have the first in what I hope to be many Fridays of food. I get stuck in such ruts, cooking the same things over and over, that I hope to use this to break out of the same-old, same-old and try some new things.

Here's what I started with:

Green tomatoes and green beans--out of my very own little garden!

What could it be? We have fresh lemon, fresh ricotta, and chopped red onion and green tomatoes.

Mmmmm...now here's what's for supper!

Green Tomato Sauce for Midsummer's Eve

From The Italian Country Table, copyright 1999, Lynne Rossetto Kasper

Reprinted with permission from the author

2 tablespoons fruity extra-virgin olive oil

10 large cloves garlic, cut into ½-inch dice

1 tablespoon water

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

3 medium green tomatoes, cored, but left unpeeled and unseeded and cut into ¼-inch dice

Juice of ½ lemon

½ medium red onion, minced

1 pound stubby pasta, such as casareccia, gemelli, or ribbed small penne

6 quarts boiling salted water

Shredded zest of 1 medium lemon

Pinch of hot red pepper flakes

½ cup thinly sliced fresh chives or scallion tops

1 cup (8 ounces) high-quality sheep’s or cow’s milk ricotta

1. In a 12-inch skillet, combine the olive oil, garlic, water, and generous sprinklings of salt and black pepper. Cover and cook over low heat 15 minutes, or until garlic is very soft and barely blond, stirring often. With a slotted spoon, remove the garlic and reserve.
2. Sprinkle the tomatoes with the lemon juice and set aside. Set the skillet over high heat and cook the onion for 1 minute. Remove from the heat and set aside. Cook the pasta in fiercely boiling water, stirring often until slightly underdone. Drain in a colander.
3. Quickly reheat the skillet. Add the lemon zest, hot pepper, and one-third of the tomatoes and sear, tossing, no more than 1 minute. Blend in the pasta, reserved garlic, and the remaining tomatoes, with their liquid. Toss to heat through, tasting for salt and an assertive tingle of black pepper. Add the chives or scallions and cheese, blend for a second or two, and turn into a warmed serving bowl. Serve right away.

A lovely summer dish. Even with the hot red pepper flakes, it's not spicy, but has a gentle flavor and nice crunch from the green tomatoes. The only thing I'd ever considered using green tomatoes for before was for frying, but I would definitely make this again.

The green beans? I reverted to form and made a classic northern Minnesota green bean dish--namely, you steam or boil the beans to your preferred doneness. Meanwhile, fry up some bacon, add some onions, and when everything is done, toss together. Yes, even the bacon grease. Yum.

Happy eating, everyone!

Twin Cities bloggers, Roll Call!

In frantically checking to make sure no one I know was on the bridge tonight, it occurred to me that I know just a whole lot of bloggers locally...check in, please! Leave a comment! I hope none of you were anywhere near the bridge that collapsed and that you're all safe and your loved ones as well!