Jammy Chicken

Garlic Confit.

Cupcake Mary, a knitterly friend, just gave me  some of the most beautiful garlic I have ever seen in my life. She grew this hard-necked garlic herself, in her garden.

Clearly, she has skills.

This garlic has heft, it has volume. It has a physical presence in the room.

Each generously-sized bulb is almost bigger than the obnoxious small yappy dog that lives next door and occasionally escapes into our yard through a gap under the fence.

This garlic is also completely and entirely mine, since the British Guy does not eat garlic. At all.

So sad, poor guy... more for me.

Dave the Garlic Guy, my go-to source for all things garlicky, suggests that you store cloves in the freezer until ready to use, and then they are 1. really easy to peel, and 2. never ever going to sprout and send out those small, bitter green shoots.

I've done this with my regular garlic supply, and it works a charm, but these charismatic beauties deserve something special.

I was eyeing The Preservation Kitchen's Garlic Conserva longingly, but don't have a pressure canner (...yet).

There are lots of ways to achieve something similar with just a pot and a stove, so I chose a garlic confit recipe from Food and Wine that had a few extras thrown in for more flavor.

Peeling the cloves was the most complicated part, and as an added bonus the herby, garlicky oil is almost more delicious than the meltingly creamy garlic cloves are after their long, slow warm bath.

I drizzled - ok, sloshed - a large slick of this oil over some leftover cold grilled squash and eggplant, some sliced tomato, and a few torn hunks of buffalo mozzarella, and it was an absolutely divine dinner.

The cloves themselves are smooth and silky, spread like butter, and are great mashed into butter or mayonaise as a flavored spread, or used in any dish that needs a little garlic love.

If you want to keep the vampires away, a mayo made from some of the garlicky oil with a few cloves blended in would do the trick quite nicely.

Garlic Confit.
From Grace Parisi at Food and Wine, more or less as written, except accounting for my giant garlic.

About 300 grams of cloves from 3 extra-large or 6 regular sized heads
2 cups of olive oil
6 sprigs of lemon thyme or regular thyme
2 small dried chiles
1 bay leaf

Peel the cloves, making sure to remove the thin membrane on the outside of the clove.

Put all the ingredients into a small pot, making sure the oil completely covers the garlic cloves.

Bring to a gentle simmer on medium-low heat, and simmer for 30 minutes or until the cloves are soft and a knife slides through with no resistance.

The oil should be very softly bubbling, not boiling, and the cloves should not brown at all.

As my mom says - 'It should be smiling, not laughing...'

Transfer to a clean container and store in the refrigerator. Keeps for up to 4 months.

When you want to use the cloves or the oil, remove from the refrigerator and let it warm up so the oil softens, or warm gently in a pan.

Pickled Eggs and Beetroot.

Shockingly, electrically, remarkably pink eggs and pickled beetroot make a vinegary, tangy and decidedly moreish snack.

Moreish being the British way to say that you can't possibly stop eating this tasty treat, you crave more.

It's just a little bit magic how deep ruby beets stain pristine whites what might be considered a lurid color on anything less down-to-earth than a pickled egg.

Pink pickled eggs elevate the regular pickled egg from common, even a little rough-and-tumble, pub snack to something decidedly more fun.

How can you not be fun when you are a pink pickled egg?

These pickled eggs would not be out of place  sliced or quartered alongside some crustless cucumber finger sandwiches.

Strewn across a fresh green salad. In a chicken salad sandwich.

If you simply can't fight it, eat straight with a nice cold beer. Sprinkle with a generous shower of crunchy, flaky salt.

Try it the British way, liberally covered in freshly ground pepper or sloshed with some Worcestershire sauce.

If you're daring, drop one into a packet of potato chips (that's crisps to you Brits) and scrunch around, for a crunchy, salty, pickly, eggy treat.

For reals.

Pickled Eggs and Beetroot.

1 tablespoon peppercorns (pink if you have them, for the color theme, or black)
2 sprigs fresh tarragon (I used Mexican tarragon)

6 small to medium beets, roasted (7 ounces, 200 g total)
6 large eggs, hard-boiled and peeled

For the pickling juice:
1 cup cider vinegar
1 cup water (including any beet juice from roasting)
1 tablespoon sugar

You will also need a sterilized, quart-sized canning jar.

To roast beets: wash the beets thoroughly to remove any dirt, and trim the greens to within an inch of the beetroot. Reserve the greens to eat like spinach. Rub each beet generously with olive oil and place in a small pan that they can all fit easily, but relatively snugly, into (for example, 7 or 8-inch square by 2 inch high). Add a slosh of water and cover the pan completely and tightly with aluminum foil. Roast on 350 degrees F for 45 minute to an hour or more, until a knife slides easily into and through the beet. If you check, and the beets are not done, recover tightly with foil and put back into the oven. When roasted, remove from the oven and cool until warm. While still warm, rub the beets and the skins will slide off. I wear rubber gloves for this, as te beets will stain your hands pink.

Cut the beets into quarters, if small, and eighths if large.

Measure the peppercorns into the bottom of a quart-sized canning jar. Layer the beets and eggs into the canning jar, starting and ending with beets and making two layers of 3 eggs each. Add the  tarragon sprigs to the canning jar, pushing them down the sides of the jar so the tops are even with or below the highest layer of beets.

Mix the vinegar, water and sugar in a small pot and bring to a simmer. Stir until the sugar is just dissolved, then pour over the beets and eggs, making sure all the beets and eggs are covered completely.

Allow to cool on the counter, cover with a vinegar-resistant lid (plastic or coated metal), then store in the refrigerator.

The eggs and beets are pickled and ready to eat after 2-3 days, but the pickling will continue to get stronger and the pink color will continue to get darker and soak deeper into the eggs the longer they are left to pickle.

In British pubs, these are kept, unrefrigerated, in giant vats on bar counters for God knows how long. If you prefer to have some measure of food safety about you, keep refrigerated and eat within 2 to 3 weeks.

Grilled garlic scape pesto - vegan.

The name, the crazy every-which-way twistiness - if Doctor Seuss had invented a plant, garlic scapes would be it.

Really, how can you take these things seriously?

 

Jammy Chicken's ode to Garlic Scapes in the manner of Doctor Seuss.

Green and curly, tall and twirly.

Scapes are thin and scapes are long.

Scapes, they sing a garlic song.

Garlic inside and garlic below, the scape is the place for garlic flavor to go!

Cut one down and eat it raw, cut two down and pickle it all.

Cut three down and make a paste.

Do not let them go to waste.

Add nuts and oil for pesto dishes.

You can spread it on some fishes.

Scapes, they are a summer taste.

Soon they'll be gone, don't hesitate!

 - J. Chicken

 

Garlic scapes - I know they look odd and kind of crazy, but they really do taste remarkably like garlic, just not quite as sharp as a real zinger of a clove can be. They are difficult to find unless you grow your own garlic or have a source in a friendly farmer or farmer's market near you.

If you can get your hands on some, it is well worth it.

Scapes are harvested to direct all the garlic plant's energy into the bulb, rather than wasting some making a flower. My garlic guy says when you choose your scapes, you want the ones that are the lightest green possible. This guarantees fresh and delicate scapes. You can eat the entire thing, from the stem right through the bulge that is waiting to be a flower. The thin flower tip may be a little crisp - just snip off any dried parts, and your scape is ready.

Pesto is the obvious choice for big payoff with little work, and I used Dorrie Greenspan's recipe as a starting point. I wanted to add a little more depth with some smoky flavor. Since the British Guy has finally gotten grilling down to an art and a science, we've got the coals fired up every couple days around here. Toss on some scapes for a minute or two just to soften them up and give a little flavor. This is by no means necessary, but it adds a lovely touch. Careful you don't drop any through the rack - they're twisty little things and slip through faster than you can blink.

Many recipes use almonds as the nut of choice, but I think that English Walnuts stand up to the sharp scape heat much better and add a woodsy flavor. Olives provide some salt and some body, and olive oil does the rest.

Grilled Garlic Scape Pesto.
Makes about 2 cups (470 ml).

20 scapes (about 160 g)
11-12 large green pitted olives (60 g)
2/3 cup English Walnuts (75 g)
2/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons or more olive oil (186 ml)
pepper to taste

You will also need a food processor and a grill.

Toss half of the garlic scapes in a little oil and grill them until lightly charred, then allow to cool. These can be grilled in advance and kept in the refrigerator for 2-3 days.

Toast the walnuts in a frying pan on medium-high heat for 2 to 3 minutes, stirring often, until warm and just beginning to brown. Allow to cool.

Chop the grilled and fresh scapes into 1-inch (2.5 cm) long pieces, and add to the bowl of a food processor with the olives and walnuts. Process until chopped very finely, about 2 minutes. Scrape down the bowl as necessary.

Add 2/3 cup of olive oil and process until well-combined. Add additional oil as required to achieve the consistency you prefer. I used 2 more tablespoons of oil.

Add pepper to taste.

Store in a covered container in the refrigerator for up to a week, or freeze for up to 6 months.

Quick pickled asparagus.

I teach people how to map rocks, and I think we all agree that it's almost impossible to do that without some actual rocks, like outside and stuff.

Small hurdle: Iowa has little in the way of diverse outside rocks that are useful for learning to map.

So we go to the rocks. Montana - the rocks, they are spectacular, don't get me wrong, but they are also 22 hours' drive away. In a convoy with 8 suburbans and lots of college students.

The other problem with going to the rocks is that it happens to coincide with the first joyous explosion of fresh and local produce, notably the ephemeral asparagus season. Fat and stumpy, thin and willowy, dark green or purple-shot spears, when the asparagus arrives it is everywhere.

Everywhere, that is, except in my garden. My own asparagus patch, now going on year two, looks a lot like someone dropped a couple green toothpicks that stuck in the ground. Apparently, growing asparagus is only for those people with the patience of a saint. That most definitely wasn't in the catalogue description.

I do my best to eat as much asparagus as possible while I am at home, before the long drive out and 3 weeks of dormitory food. University of Montana Western - which is, for dorm food, pretty darned good, really, especially the all-you-can-eat, soft-serve ice cream bar. That guarantees I come home a few pounds heavier than I start every year. Though I like to think it's all muscle, I suspect the marshmallow and fudge sauces and crumbled oreos on vanilla soft serve may have a little impact. I swear, they must put crack in that marshmallow sauce, it's so good in a hate-to-love-it way.

Though the main avalanche of asparagus season is past, I've returned in time to just catch the tail edge, and I've found some beautiful, lance-like sturdy spears with their tight budded tips. Store them in the refrigerator like flowers, with the cut end in water, until ready to use.

My starting point was Paul Virant's recipe for pickled asparagus from The Preservation Kitchen. (I have some of his strawberry jams lined up for making over the next few days, and am very excited about them.) I have modified the recipe to be a quick refrigerator pickle, and also to be on  jar-by-jar basis.

So, if you want one jar, you can make one jar. If you can lay your hands on a windfall of asparagus this late in the game and want 10 jars, just scale up. I used a 12 ounce jar to maximize the length of the asparagus spears, which I trimmed to 4 inches long (10 cm) so that the tip of every spear was roughly one inch below the rim of the jar. Coincidentally, this is the perfect length to serve as a swizzle stick in a Bloody Mary - how about a Bacon Vodka Bloody Mary with a pickled asparagus swizzle stick?

Halibut Fish Cakes with Bloody Mary Sauce.

Leftover fish is always a dilema, isn't it? The prospect of having to reheat that once perfectly done fillet conjurs images of dry fishy flakes yearning for better days.

And yet, the leftovers, they must be used.

Instead of just making do, make them into something great, something completely new.

Repurpose, rather than recycle.

Fish cakes are a fantastic way to take those extra fish bits and create a brand-shiny-new dinner worthy of the spotlight all on its own. You could, of course, start out by cooking the fish specifically for these cakes, and they are good enough that you may want to do that, but dragging out the leftovers and classing them up in such a fashion makes you look like you deserve a medal.

Or at least a slightly boozy drinkie.

And a well-deserved drink it is, too.

I've used halibut because that's the leftovers we had, but salmon, cod, or a mix of any firm-fleshed fish would work. If you don't have enough leftovers from one meal, save more than one dinner's worth in the freezer until you cumulatively acquire the necessary amount. Or, if you don't have the exact amount, simply scale the rest of the ingredients up or down accordingly. This is an extremely flexible, forgiving recipe.

The methodology? Toss some bits and bobs in a bowl, mix, fry. That simple.

And the Bloody Mary Sauce?

Why, oh why, didn't I think of this earlier?

Bloody. Mary. Sauce.

I could have been eating Bloody Mary Sauce for years. I have been so deprived. 

Not only is it fun on a plate, it is just the acid bite to really kick those fish cakes into spectacular. Not too boozy, but the bacon vodka adds a meaty, smoky undertone that lifts up the fresh, clean fish.

No one need ever know that this was leftovers.

Shhh... I won't tell if you won't.

Halibut Fish Cakes with Bloody Mary Sauce.
Makes 8 cakes, serves 4 as a light meal or 2 hungry people.
Based on a recipe from Nant Ddu Lodge, Wales (where Jammy Chick honeymooned), from Gilli Davies. 

Bloody Mary Sauce
1 cup passata or tomato sauce
2 tablespoons bacon vodka or plain vodka
1/2 tablespoon worchester sauce
squeeze of lemon
pinch of celery salt or plain salt

Halibut Fish Cakes
2 cups coarsely flaked cooked halibut or other firm fish
1 cup fresh bread crumbs
1/2 cup mayonaise
1 tablespoon dried parsley
generous grind black pepper
generous pinch salt

You will also need the following:
several tablespoons flour 
one egg, beaten well
about 3/4 cup fresh bread crumbs
a few tablespoons olive oil 

Mix all ingredients for the Bloody Mary Sauce. This can be prepared ahead. Refrigerate for up to a week.

Mix all the ingredients for the fish cakes together until well-combined. Scoop out 1/4 cup portions and form into inch-thick patties. Fish patties can be placed in a container and covered, then stored in the refrigerator for up to a day.

Place the flour and additional bread crumbs on a flat, wide plate. Put the beaten egg into a shallow, wide bowl.

Take the first fish cake and dredge in the flour to cover completely. Then, dip in the egg until it is completely covered. Finally, place in the bread crumbs and gently press crumbs onto the sides, top and bottom, until all surfaces are well coated. 

Place the coated fish cake onto a plate. Continue coating each additional fish cake in flour, then egg, then crumbs, until they are all coated.

You can now refrigerate the fish cakes for 20 or 30 minutes if you prefer, or start frying immediately. The cakes are more fragile if not refrigerated, but not dangerously so.

Put a large, flat bottomed frying pan on medium heat. When the pan is hot, put 2 tablespoons of oilve oil in and swirl to coat the pan fully. Place the fish cakes in the pan, leaving about 2 to 3 inches between each cake. You will need to get in there with a spatula to turn them, so do leave some room. You may need to fry the cakes in two separate batches.

Cook for 3 or 4 minutes, until the crust is brown and crisp. Turn, and cook the other side. Add more oil if necessary. Remember, the fish is already cooked, so you are just crisping the patty surface.

Serve the fish cakes hot, with lashings of the Bloody Mary Sauce, and a nice green side salad. Garnish with wedges of lemon.

Celeriac, Caper and Pickled Red Onion Salad.

Celeriac is all over the place right now. I keep coming across it unexpectedly in the veggie aisle and getting a scare, because boy howdy is it ugly.

U.G.L.Y.

Lumpy, hairy, rooty, brown bulbous kinda ugly.

As in, not pretty.

But you chop off all that outside stuff and the inside is an ethereal white, smelling clean and sharp and faintly of anise.

It's what celery wishes it smelled like, if celery weren't so agressively celery-smelling.

And there's this haze of austerity, puritanical cleansing, lurking about right now, brought on by holiday excess and new year re-evaluation, that the clean and calm of celeriac seems to resonate with.

Maybe it's the white, or the crunch of crisp slices, or the subtle palate-cleansing flavor, but raw celeriac just feels like it is supremely good for you. And we'd all like to feel like we're doing good for ourselves, especially right about now, in the long, cold stretch out of winter.

This is a riff on Celeriac Remoulade, which is a French classic, and more often than not uses some combination of mayonaise and mustard in various proportions for a dressing. Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall adds red onions for a little acidic bite to compliment the celeriac crunch, and I decided to quick pickle them. This mellows the sharpness and also highlights the remarkable pink color, making this dish a riot of pastels.

Hugh also makes a dressing using creme fraiche instead of mayonaise, which results in what I think is a cleaner-tasting and less sticky finish. The dressing is a gem in and of itself, and can be used on any robust salad or vegetable, or even spread on a sandwich in lieu of mayo. You can make creme fraiche remarkably easily, and it's dead useful in all kinds of things from sauces to baking.

Creme fraiche scones? Delightful! I'll be sharing those soon.

So, whatever cleanse you're on, even if it's just a mental cobweb sweep-out, take the time to apologize to your body for being such a jerk last year and treat it nicely for a while. Ease back into the real world with something light, crisp and healthy.

Then have another glass of wine.

Celeriac, Caper and Pickled Red Onion Salad.
Modified from a recipe by Hugh Fearnley-Whittingstall's Guardian column.
Serves 6 to 8 as a side salad.

Celeriac Salad

one head celeriac (about 300 g)
1 small red onion
50 g capers, brine-packed
1/2 cup white wine vinegar
1 to 2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves
a squeeze of lemon

Creme Fraiche Dressing 

1/2 cup creme fraiche
2/3 cup olive oil
3 tablespoons white wine vinegar
1 tablespoon roasted garlic, chopped (I use the kind in a jar)
1 tablespoon grainy mustard (more if you're a super fan of mustard)
1 teaspoon sugar

fresh ground black pepper
flaky salt 

You will also need a mandoline or vegetable peeler.

To prepare the dressing, add all of the ingredients except the oil to a food processor and process until you have a thick, well-blended mixture. With the processor running, slowly drizzle in the oil until it is incorporated and the dressing is  a creamy emulsion. Store in the refrigerator until needed. Keeps for up to a week. Bring back to room temperature before using.

Prepare a bowl of water with a squeeze of lemon. Cut off the rooty, fibrous, brown and lumpy skin of the celeriac. Peel the white inner flesh into very thin slices with a vegetable peeler or mandoline. As you peel, drop the slices into the lemon water. Store in the lemon water until ready to serve.

Finely slice the onion into half-moons and rinse, shake a little to dry off, and put into a bowl with the white wine vinegar. Marinate the onions in the vinegar for about 30 minutes.

When ready to serve, strain and dry the celeriac. Strain the onions. Arrange the celeriac on a large, flat plate. Scatter the onions on top.

Drizzle the dressing artistically over the celeriac and onions, then scatter the capers and thyme leaves over. Generously grind over the pepper and sprinkle with flaky salt.

Serve any extra dressing on the side.

The undressed celeriac will keep for a day or two, but once you assemble the salad it's best eaten immediately.

Lime Pickles.

Organic limes on sale, a passing glance at a recipe in a cookbook, a sudden desire to play with salt. 

Maybe it's a retaliation for all the tooth-achingly sweet overload of the holidays, but I'll take a mouth-puckeringly sour pickle in an instant these days. Can't get enough cornichons. In fact, I am starting to salivate just thinking about it.

I've fallen onto this fad roughly 150 years too late, plus or minus a decade or so. Lime pickles have had their heyday come and go, and have quite an illustrious literary pedigree to show for it, featuring in Little Women (chapter 7, apparently).

I have no recollection of even wondering what lime pickles were while I was reading Little Women in 7th grade. I guess I was not inquisitive enough about citrus. I did get an A on the book report. And I do like a good pickle.

Lime Pickles.
Modified from Nigella Lawson. Makes about 2 cups of pickles.

 2  large or 3 small limes
1 1/2 cup coarse salt (I used kosher)
1 teaspoon turmeric
1 teaspoon fennel seeds
1/2 teaspoon cardamom seeds
6 small dried chili peppers
approximately 1 1/2 cups olive oil (not extra virgin) or other neutral oil 

You will also need a 1/2 liter sterilized jar for storing the pickles, and a 9 or 10 inch square non-reactive baking tray or glass container.

Cut the limes into 8 or 12 slices (quartered, then 2 or 3 slices each), depending on the size of your limes, aim for less than a centimeter maximum width of rind on each slice.

Sprinkle 1/2 cup salt on the bottom of your tray, then arrange the limes on the salt in a single layer.

Sprinkle the remaining 1 cup of salt over the limes evenly. They will not be completely covered. Put this in the freezer for a minimum of 12 hours, but longer is fine.

Remove from the freezer after the allotted time and thaw completely. Put the limes and salt in a collander and, using very cold water, rinse all the salt off. Pat the limes dry with a towel.

Arrange the limes in a container that will hold all the slices and has at least an additional inch of space above the uppermost lime.

Starting with 1 cup of oil, mix in the spices and pour over the limes.

Continue to add as much oil as necessary to completely cover the limes. They must be fully submerged or they will mold. Close and store in a dark place for at least 3 weeks before eating, to allow the lime pickles time to absorb the spices.

Cuke & zuke quick pickle.

Pickles have always been a mystery to me.

They are born from a jar, crunchy and tangy, as if by magic.

Some are round, some are long, all are delicious.

And not until recently did I ever consider making my own.

I thought it would be hard.

I thought it would be complicated.

I thought it would be time-consuming.

I was so wrong it's almost embarassing.

Quick pickles are, well, quick.

And tasty. And delicious.

And still magic.  


Sweet Pickles, and Sour Pickles.
Modified from Maine Classics by Mark Gaier and Clark Frasier. 

Sweet Pickles.

3 pounds mixed cucumbers and zucchini (I used 8 small cukes and 4 medium zukes)
4 cups white wine vinegar
1 cup sugar
2 heads of garlic
1/4 cup coriander seeds
1 teaspoon cardamom seeds
1 teaspoon salt

Wash the cukes and zukes and cut into 3 inch-long logs, then cut into 4 or 8 wedges per round, to make spears.

Peel and very lightly crush the garlic cloves.

Put the coriander into the bottom of a large non-reactive pot (no aluminum!) and turn on the burner to toast the seeds. This should take only 1 or 2 minutes, until you can smell the coriander. Watch the seeds carefully and stir often to make sure they do not burn.

Add the vinegar, sugar, cardamom seeds, and salt to the pot and bring to a boil.

Add the cucumbers, zucchini and garlic to the pot, turn off the burner and remove from the heat.

Let steep until cool.

Pack into a jar and top up with the vinegar brine. Store in the fridge. Serve cold.

Makes 8 to 10 modest pickle servings.

 
 Sour Pickles.

3 pounds mixed cucumbers and zucchini (I used 8 small cukes and 4 medium zukes)
4 cups vinegar, a mixture of white wine and cider (I used 1 cup cider and 3 cups white wine)
1/2 cup water
2 teaspoons kosher salt
2 tablespoons sugar
1/8 cup mustard seeds (yellow or brown)

 Wash the cukes and zukes and cut into 3 inch-long logs, then cut into 4 or 8 wedges per round, to make spears.

Mix the vinegar, water, salt, sugar and mustard seeds in a non-reactive pot.

Bring to a boil, then add the cukes and zukes, turn off the burner and remove from the heat.

Let steep until cool.

Pack into a jar and top up with the vinegar brine. Store in the fridge. Serve cold.

Makes 8 to 10 modest pickle servings. 

Bacon vodka-spiked cherry tomatoes.

So, you've made that bacon vodka and are now basking in well-deserved, self-congratulatory smugness.

Well done, you.

Share some of your fabulous self, and some of that fabulous bacon vodka, with your friends by making these boozy, sassy little cherry tomato appetizers.

The eternally sublime combination of bacon and tomato, facilitated by the kick of some hard-core spirits, makes these a unique and intriguing choice for a coctail party, or adds a little zing to liven up drinks on the deck. 

[ I don't know about you, but I need some food to keep from getting totally sloshed. And even then, well, let's just say I'm a cheap date.]

Vodka-spiked cherry tomatoes.
Modified from Gourmet magazine June, 2011, and found on Epicurious.

3 pints (about 60 small to medium) cherry tomatoes, mixed colors for best effect (oooh, pretty)
1/2 cup bacon vodka, or plain 
3 tablespoons champagne vinegar (or white wine)
1 tablespoon superfine granulated sugar (or regular, this just dissolves easier)
1 tablespoon finely grated fresh lemon zest from organic lemon (or a regular lemon, well-scrubbed)

To serve: 3 tablespoons coarse salt and 1 1/2 tablespoons coarse ground black pepper, mixed

First, peel the tomatoes.

I know, is there anything more tedious than peeling cherry tomatoes?

In the interest of full disclosure, you can make this without peeling the tomatoes, and it will still taste mighty fine. To take the short road, just cut each tomato in half or quarters, and proceed with the next step *.

But truly, this makes a world of difference, and if you have the time, and the internal fortitude, to face this task, you will not be disappointed.

Now, back to tomato peeling: Set up a small pot of water and get it boiling. Set up a bowl of water and ice cubes, big enough to hold all the tomatoes.

Cut a small 'X' in the bottom (blossom) end of each tomato. Using a slotted spoon, dunk a few tomatoes at a time in the boiling water for 3 to 10 seconds, until the skin starts to split and peel when the tomatoes are pulled out of the boiling water. Tr ansfer to the bowl of iced water to stop the tomatoes cooking any further.

When cool, the skins should slip off easily, or use the back side of a knife to gently scrape them off if they need a little more coersion.

*The next step: Place the tomatoes in a single layer in a shallow dish.

Mix together the vodka, vinegar, sugar, and lemon zest until the sugar is fully dissolved.

Pour over the tomatoes and toss gently to coat. Let marinate, covered and chilled, for from 30 minutes to 1 hour.

You can leave the tomatoes for longer than 1 hour with no significant harm (yes, I did test this), but the flavor does peak at 1 hour.

Strain off the marinade (this could be re-used for marinating chicken or a more flavorful fish like salmon) and serve the tomatoes with the mixed salt and pepper for dipping, and toothpicks for eating.  

Tunisian preserved lemon and tuna sandwiches.

This tasty little number makes as good a lunch as it does a fast dinner, late-night snack or appetizer - maybe even breakfast for the strong of stomach and brave of taste buds. The harissa is a red hot pepper paste with  caraway, coriander, garlic and salt. You may find it in your ethnic food aisle, or you may have to search it out in a mediterranean or middle eastern food store. It is the indistinguishable twin of tomato paste, visually, but do not be fooled by the unassuming visage, because unlike mild and ubiquitous tomato paste, this one saunters right up and pops you in the kisser. I had some half an hour ago and I swear, after being stuffy all week, my sinuses are still clear now. Not to scare you off - it is not like sucking on a habanero. This stuff has flavor to back up the heat. Just be warned, and restrained, on first approach.

The vegetal parsley, salt-laden lemon and tuna-y tuna wafting up from the bowl smell just like the ocean, to me (with freshly cleared sinuses). It makes a tangy, green contrast to the fiery pepper undercoat lurking below.

 

Tunisian preserved lemon and tuna sandwiches.

1 6.4 ounce pouch tuna (I used chunk light albacore)
1/2 preserved lemon, peels only (from 4 wedges), sliced thinly
1/4 cup fresh parsley*, chopped
harissa, for spreading
bread, any kind, toasted or not 
black pepper

* I am assuming that, among other things, your fresh herbs are pre-washed and dried. I also like to use some of the thinner parsley stems along with the leaves, and chop coarsely for added crunch.

Thinly slice the bread and put on to toast. I find it especially good just as it starts to char. That's just me.

Empty the tuna into a bowl and mash lightly with a fork. It's nice to have some larger chunks.

Add the thinly sliced preserved lemon rind, and a good grind of fresh pepper.

Add the parsley and mix the whole thing until combined.

When the bread is toasted (or not), spread a thin layer of harissa on it, then pile on a mound of preserved lemon and tuna salad, and take a large and satisfying bite. Repeat as necessary.

 

Make it pioneer: swap the harissa paste for mayo.

Make it Jersey: swap the harissa paste for pesto. See top right.

Make it rock & roll: add some diced olives along with the parsley.

Preserved Lemon Hummus

Dense hummus makes me sad. It lures me in with promises of ethereal loveliness and then doesn't deliver. Some people, perhaps many people, don't mind. They may actually enjoy such solid hummus. I crave something lighter, tangier and altogether different.

This hummus is light and delicate, but has the added kick of preserved lemon that comes along and socks you one a mere instant after you taste it. The addition of lemon juice gives it another layer of flavor. Light, yes. Fragile, no. The difference, I think, is in the tahini, or to be more accurate, the lack thereof. Toasted sesame oil provides that same deep nutty flavor without the high specific gravity. With everything else weighing you down, why should your hummus?

 

Preserved Lemon Hummus

1 15 oz can chickpeas, rinsed and drained (this is about 1 1/2 cups of beans)
6 to 8 slices of pickled lemon rind, sliced (that's 3/4 to 1 lemon's worth, scrape the pulp off)
1/4 cup olive oil
1/4 cup water
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 tablespoon toasted sesame oil

Put all of these things into a food processor (and any extras below) and let it run for a good 4 or 5 minutes, stopping to scrape down the bowl as necessary. By the end of this time the hummus should be very smooth and slightly lighter in color than the original chick peas were. Swirl artistically on a plate and drizzle with olive oil for a nice presentation. Use on crackers or as a sandwich spread instead of mayo, or as a dip for veggies.

Note #1  - the preserved lemon is plenty salty already and you do not need to add any more salt. You may want to add some pepper if you like. 

Note # 2 - The size of your preserved lemons will determine how much you add. One large preserved lemon makes this hummus Very Lemony. If you think you may not be comfortable with this level of lemon, use less to begin with. You can always taste and add more. 

Note # 3 - you can reserve half the hummus and add extras to just part instead of the whole batch.

 

Make it pioneer: add 1 to 2 tablespoons of chopped roasted garlic.

Make it Jersey: add 8 to 10 sundried tomato halves plus a smidge more water if it is too thick for you. I use the kind in olive oil. See below right.

Make it rock & roll: add 1/3 cup roasted red pepper (plus a smidge more water if it is too thick).