Jammy Chicken

The days are short, the mud is deep.

The rains are lashing down, and large swathes of the UK are under flood watches and warnings at the moment, making for quite a soggy holiday.

We are spending another Christmas in Wales, after a week of vacationing in a cottage on the coast - or down the shore as we New Jerseyites say - in Lyme Regis, Dorset.

Dorset is the home of River Cottage and Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall. Purely coincidence, I tell you, that I suggested a vacation there. No HFW sightings during our week, but I did catch a glimpse of Pam the Jam roaming through Axminster during market day. I was quite overcome with star-struck giddiness but way too chicken to step up and say hello.

Jammy Chicken indeed.

As consolation, we had lunch at the River Cottage Canteen - pork and venison liver terrine with cranberry and walnut chutney, and fried gurnard with bubble and squeak made of leek and potato. The chutney was lovely with big chunks of whole walnut giving loads of crunch and flavor. Some snooping online suggest it's Hugh's Christmas Chutney with fig and cranberry. Must make that.

The gurnard, that was hands-down the winner for best lunch dish. We saw some for sale afterwards in the fishmonger's market stall - it looks quite grumpy and red, but tastes creamy and white and tender. Good value for money, not overfished, and scrumptious. Three good things - just like HFW's latest cookbook and TV series.

This new series, also cunningly titled Hugh's 3 good things, has yet to make it to the US as far as I can tell, but TV viewing is quite civilized here in the UK and you can watch most of the already aired TV shows online. Only if you are in the UK, though, so no luck for me when I head back to the US. Santa knew exactly what I wanted, and got me the cookbook, but if you were not so fortunate to receive this as a pressie, you can dip into the recipes on the show's website scrapbook here. My favorite moment, from the crab show (episode 18): 'That's like having your tongue mugged... by flavor!'

One for the knitting ladies, a trip through the town of Wool. Obligatory photo.

Every so often there's a break in the clouds, and we get a lovely view that makes it all worthwhile. Off to eat turkey. Have a happy holiday!

Saturday Farmer's Market.

This week was all about tomatoes at the farmer's market. [Plus I may have a source of duck eggs! I got so excited I think I actually forgot to take the chicken thighs I had just paid for and walked away without them...]

Everybody had beautiful tomatoes, so I went for a riot of multi-colored heirloom varieties. I snagged a box of small ones - grape to cherry sized - that had 13 different kinds in. The colors are inspiring, and I am still overcompensating from having to look at the wooly anemic pink rocks impersonating tomatoes at the grocery store all winter long.

Perhaps a little too much overcompensation [although that's kinda the whole point of overcompensation, innit?], as we will be eating tomatoes at every meal for a while to get through the farmer's market haul.

And that was before the British Guy spotted all the little ripe ones in our feral tomato patch. I've been checking out our bedroom window, but have only seen flowers up to now. You have to go tomato diving into the shrubbery to find the little buggers.

They started out as white currant tomatoes about 15 feet away and 3 years ago, before they went native and colonized what used to be a potato patch being overgrown by mint. I can confidently say that these tomatoes have outgrown, overgrown, and otherwise completely strangled the mint into oblivion.

Mint, people.

Plus, these babies haven't been watered in about ... well, never.

I would be scared if I actually thought about how well they were growing overtaking our yard in these dustbowl-like conditions.

Except they are so darned tasty.

And I have to say I really love no-maintenance plants with tasty free food on them.

Aren't they cute?

We took a drive around yesterday [which is why Saturday Farmer's Market isn't getting posted until Sunday evening], showing James the Nephew the sights of Iowa before he leaves to return to the homeland in a few days. One must-see stop for any self-respecting Iowan proudly showing off the state is: Riverside.

Yes, that Riverside.

Although as we all know, with the alternate reality reboot he's not born in Iowa anymore (btw this link is awesome).

Murphy's Bar and Grill has improvised, and put up this plaque under the pool table.

Gotta love Iowa.

Saturday Farmer's Market.

Today's farmer's market was a bit purple-centric.

Purple potatoes (and yukon golds), both going on the grill tonight and then leftovers into frittata later in the week. Frittata has turned into my new obsession for cleaning out leftovers from the fridge on a weekly basis. Start with cooked spuds, add some veg (any kind or combo), some meat (if you have it) or some fish (if you have it), herbs, cheese, eggs. Toss a salad on the side and it's dinner.

Plus, frittata is great cold for lunch the next day.

Back to the haul - a small but glorious assortment of heirloom tomatoes.

Purple beans, maybe for dilly beans. Maybe not.

An onion.

Today was a book festival in town. When you live in a UNESCO City of Literature, it's the local equivalent of Woodstock. We went to a few talks by science authors after the market. The Violinist's Thumb by Sam Kean was about how genes can help explain everything from cancer in chimney-sweeps to King Tut. A Planet of Viruses by Carl Zimmer was both fascinating and creepily disturbing, pointing out just how close we are to the next global pandemic, what little we can do about it, and on the flip side, how much we owe our own genetics to viruses. A good if intense combo.

James the teenage nephew is visiting. Over the past few days, I've come up with a recipe to simulate living with a teenager, in case you want to experience this without having a teenager of your own or a readily available loaner.

1. Take a room in your house and shut the door.

2. Don't ever go into that room or open that door.

3. Notice, occasionally, a tall, thin shadow lurking in the hallway - never early in the day.

4. Notice, occasionally, that vast quantities of food (especially cake and ice cream) disappear, sometimes in conjunction with the brief appearance of above shadow.

He did come bearing gifts - River Cottage Cakes being top of the list of things to drool over. It's a tough decision, but I am almost ready to pick what to make first.

Saturday Farmer's Market.

We arrived at the market fully resolving to get little, since our garden is picking up, particularly the squash.

Needless to say, that didn't last.

I suppose there are worse things than to have no self control when buying veggies.

This is the 3rd week in a row I have swooped in to get the yarn and chicken lady's last dozen eggs. One of the other customers at the stall rather cheekily suggested I was making a habit of cutting it a bit close.

I like to think of it as destiny.

This week's colors: eight brown, three blue, one olive green.

Last week's colors, which I neglected to share, were eight brown, four blue. The week before, we got our first lovely olive green egg, which is the left-most egg in the photo but perhaps doesn't show up all that well in amongst the overwhelming verdant vegetable bounty.

Last week's cucumbers pickled very satisfyingly so I got another basket to make more, since I brought half of my stash to a 4th of July bbq. I am going to try a fermented pickle product, I think, for variety and amusement.

String beans, which I quite like but British Guy doesn't. I think some will be grilled tonight and some will be Dilly Beaned in the immediate future.

Dill [though it's not shown because I forgot about it in the fridge], for above pickles,  because while I have some in the garden it has gone straight from sprout to seed. The basil, being a mediterranean plant, rather enjoys these 100 degree days I think and is looking quite vigorous after languishing as a limp, stringy little twig for most of the early summer.

Cherry tomatoes from two different vendors. One is our regular tomato gal, who also sells larger heirloom tomatoes for slicing and her homemade pickles, which I heartily approve of, and the other from a woman who is relatively new to the farmer's market and charmingly named her booth Farmer's Daughter's Market, who looked in need of some business both times we walked past on our first lap of scoping out what we want from whom. It's good to spread the love, I think, and I try to diversify my acquisitions every market (or so I justify it as...).

Guilty confessions - beet leaf saute still sitting in the fridge, now long past the stage of sulking and feeling unwelcome to actively and angrily accusing me of neglect every time I open the door. This is too much pressure from a green and I am reaching the point where I simply cannot shoulder the burden of feeling like I must make myself eat these every time I open the refrigerator. The few tastes I have attempted suggest that I just don't like them that much, and I think I am going to have to learn to be OK with that.

Carrot greens decorated the counter as a minimalist feathery green bouquet for a few days until the leaves crisped and the stems reverted to goo rather faster than I anticipated. They are now in the compost and the beet greens may will shortly join them.

Last but certainly not least, and currently taking up roughly half the fridge, are three lugs of blueberries, roughly 10 pounds each, from the Amish store. We arrived to find the cold room devoid of the coveted blueberries, only to discover on inquiry that 'the truck has just arrived...how many do you want?'

Lots! Score!

Most will be frozen like this, many eaten fresh, and some made into delicious treats over the next few weeks. I am planning blueberry aigre-doux from The Preservation Kitchen and a fresh blueberry mousse.

Also, my yogurt maker broke this morning while in the middle of a batch, so I am improvising by putting the jars on the outside table as it climbs towards 100 degrees today.

I will either have yogurt, or cheese, or, most likely, a hot mess.

Gooseberry Ices: Sherbet and Sorbet.

Gooseberries (GOOZ-brees, remember?) are something I never even knew about until I moved to the UK, where they grow in unabashed abundance and are used in sweet desserts and savory dishes alike. To me, they taste of crabapple's sharpness and tartness, honey's sweet warm flavors. The British Guy made a face as I bought them at the farmer's market, 'cause he says he doesn't like them.

I don't care.

I was so excited to see gooseberries, delightful green and red and stripey little baubles, that I had to have them. It doesn't matter that I've never cooked with them before, the fun is in the doing.

Or in the trying, anyway.

It's a little full-on to try to woo someone who says he/she doesn't like gooseberries with a sauce for a roast, or a fish, I think (which is what they are sometines used for in the UK).

Too hardcore gooseberry.

Much easier to sweet-talk and tempt with some soft and luscious dessert, cooling and luxurious.

I become greedy at the thought of gooseberry ices, just one thing simply won't do.

I choose two lovely iced desserts to try - sorbet, which is made with fruit puree, sugar and water, and sherbet, which is made with fruit puree, a touch of milk, cream and sugar. The sorbet should highlight the fruit's pure taste, the sherbet might mellow its perceived tartness with a bit of rich dairy as an easy temptation for the gooseberry-disdaining British Guy.

The start is the same, and you can always stop with the puree, using it as a drizzle for vanilla ice cream or stirred into some fizzy water for a refreshing drink.

If you choose to press on, know you will be rewarded with luscious, creamy and utterly unique iced desserts, never to be found in the store (to the best of my knowledge), whose tart and sweet flavors are absolutely glorious in the heat of summer.

Make both, or make one and double the recipe, the choice is yours. But promise me that if you see gooseberries, you'll snatch them up and give them an honest try, whether you think you like them or not. Like the British Guy, who managed to scoff down some of both and proclaimed them 'not bad', you may be surprised. [BTW...he prefers the sherbet. Even though British 'sherbet' is some weird fruit-flavored effervescent powdery thing I have never ever heard of before.]

Gooseberry Puree.

about 2 cups gooseberries (365 grams)
2 tablespoons sugar (30 ml)
3 tablespoons water (45 ml)
1 to 2 slivers of lemon zest

Top and tail the gooseberries - trim off the stem and the brown papery blossom end with a small, sharp knife (or my secret weapon the strawberry huller). Hugh suggests it is not necessary to top and tail if you intend to sieve the puree, but I think the dried blossom bits could get pushed through the sieve and end up in the puree, yielding little brown fleckles, so I do anyway.

It is, as always, your call.

Add the gooseberries, lemon zest, water and sugar to a small pot, then bring to a simmer and cover, simmering on low for about 10 minutes, until the gooseberries are soft and have popped their skins.

Allow to cool, then strain through a fine sieve to remove the seeds and skins

You should have about 1 cup of gooseberry puree. Top up to 1 cup with a little water if necessary.

You can use this as a sauce, with an extra 2 tablespoons of sugar. Or, continue on with the ices.

 

Gooseberry Sorbet (below on left in jar, on right in cup).
Makes about 2 cups. Serves 1 gluttonously, or two with restraint.

1/2 cup gooseberry puree (120 ml)
1/3 cup superfine sugar (65 grams)
1 cup water (240 ml)

Mix all ingredients and refrigerate until cold.

Process in your ice cream maker according to instructions. Transfer to the freezer and freeze for 2-4 hours to firm up before serving.

 

Gooseberry Sherbet (above on right in jar, below on left in cup).
Makes about 2 cups. Serves 1 gluttonously, or two with restraint.

1/2 cup gooseberry puree (120 ml)
1/2 cup heavy whipping cream (120 ml)
1/2 cup whole milk (120 ml)
1/3 cup superfine sugar (65 grams)

Mix all ingredients and refrigerate until cold.

Process in your ice cream maker according to instructions. Transfer to the freezer and freeze for 2-4 hours to firm up before serving.

Both sherbet and sorbet are best eaten within a few days of making, as they tend to harden too much for easy scooping after that. You can leave them in the refrigerator for 5 to 10 minutes to soften a little, but if you re-freeze they will tend to form ice crystals. The easiest solution is to eat them all at once, frankly. It's a tough job, I know, but someone has to do it. I have complete faith in you.

Saturday Farmer's Market.

We got to the farmer's market later than usual, and were worried that it would be crowded, but the oppressive heat and rains this morning must have put people off, because it was pretty empty.

This week's haul:

Broccoli, 'cause we like it.

Yellow squash, 'cause our plants currently only yield one or two every week or so (until squash glut hits, that is).

Tomatoes, 'cause I've got basil in the garden and buffalo mozzarella in the fridge, just waiting to be Caprese salad.

Pickling cucumbers. This week's experiment is going to be making these bread and butter pickles.

Potatoes, dug this morning, from this farmer. Bok choy, also chicken feet (for stock). All from the same guy. Needed a pedicure (the chicken feet, don't know about the farmer) but I am sure those little feet will make exceptional stock... when it cools down a little.

Carrots. I heart carrots. Orange, crunchy. From this farm.

Someone asked him to chop off the carrot greens when they bought a bunch, and the vendor said he saves all the greens, and then let me in on a secret - lean in, I'll share.

Carrots are, apparently, related to parsley. Also celery, coriander, dill. If the greens are fresh and tender, they are not only edible but pretty darned tasty. He uses them like parsley as herb garnish.

I am thinking carrot leaf tabbouleh.

Eggs from the egg and yarn lady. Love her. Got the last dozen, second week in a row.

Round-up of last week's haul: finishing off the mountain of potato salad. Pickled eggs and beetroot hanging in the fridge, making colorful and tasty snacks. Beet greens sauted but not eaten yet - working up to it. They are very vegetal. Gooseberries made into dessert - sorbet and sherbet - post coming up in a few days.

Happy market!

Saturday Farmer's Market.

The local food equivalent of snooping in your friends' medicine cabinets.

(Not that I ever do that.)

Go ahead - peek in my bag - you know you want to.

 

Because we got there early, and we were very lucky, we got what must be the last fresh asparagus in North America for 2012 - thin and whippy, just how I like it. Store like precious flowers, with the ends trimmed, upright in water in the fridge.

New potatoes, red and yukon gold. Skins so thin and papery you can rub them off with your thumb and a little water.

Eggs, two dozen, every color but white. From a woman who sells eggs, and yarn. Could it possibly get better than that? (OK, maybe eggs, yarn and pastries...)

Tomatoes, because my plants have not stepped up their game.

Greens: Arugula. Sorrel, which is a revelation. Looks like spinach, tastes like lemon. These two are calling out to be put onto a nice cheesy pizza.

A big bunch of 6 beautiful beets. The greens and stems are sauted and in the fridge as I type, beets awaiting roasting later this evening when the temperature cools.

My score, my prize, what made my heart beat (I almost wrote beet) faster as I spied them across the aisle: gooseberries.

Pronounced GOOZ-burys (I was corrected by British Guy as I asked for the Goose-berries, please).

[I was corrected by British Guy again: GOOZ-breeze.]

Farmer lady said they had 7 plants, type unknown, and this was their 3rd year after planting.

Grow like mad, really really tedious to pick.

I am glad she did.