Market Fresh Chef Blog

A Sharp Tale of Dicey Consequence

2010-01-30T00:58:15Z

When one's favorite of all favorites knife disappears, a chef's kitchen world gets blurry. Nothing is in it's place, long-established food prep rhythms are interrupted, and dire consequences can ensue. Shortly thereafter, when all the inquisitions prove useless, a pair of new gadgets make an entrance. It's a total surprise: husband has purchased another brand (egad!) of pairing knife to replace the missing Henkels Four Star, and has also brought home a famous brand "mini chopper" to lessen the blow. How can he not know that I am loyal to one brand of knives and one brand alone, and only rarely delegate the very largest pureeing, chopping or slicing tasks to my trusty 12-cup Cuisinart? How can he not also know that food prep is my mediation, my relaxation, and my nirvana before later sitting at table to enjoy "the fruits"?
The answer is simple, my friends: he does not cook. Over one month after the offending weapon arrived I finally broke down and unsheathed it. Pretty sharp, decent weight, good feel in my hand. And the mini food chopping gadget has also finally been christened. Ugh. I repeat, big jobs get processed in the Cuisinart but only if I'm in a hurry. I like to cook. Chopping & dicing are at the top of the list of pleasant prep tasks. Now where's that gift receipt?

You never really miss something til you can't have it

2010-01-24T15:40:09Z

We have had a very particular food diet imposed on our household. It's a one-for-all deal. Two of us don't need to be on it, but it's just plain unfair to the afflicted to be slurping down one's favorite whatever while the other looks on in hungry frustration. What's on the menu is white breads, white rice, potatoes; all without seasonings or fats of any kind. White meat chicken and plain fish fillets. Cheerio's, corn flakes, rice chex. Soy milk. That's about it. No fruit or vegetables. Mind you it's just for 3 weeks. It surely speeds up my prep and cooking times in the kitchen. There's really nothing to do. No sauces to simmer, no herbs to snip, onions to chop, no garlic to mince, The big whisk has been hanging sadly unused. I love my whisks (I have 4, all different sizes). I love going into the kitchen long before dinnertime and going through the mise en place process. Everything gets prepped, measured, placed in it's own little dish and set by the stove in order of use. The entree' is cleaned, trimmed, cut-to-order, and returned to the refrigerator. Pots, saute' pans & roasters are pulled out of hiding. Finally I check the clock so I know what gets started first, make myself a Manhattan or a cosmopolitan and go watch the evening news.
Clearly, I am missing this ritual. I noticed yesterday that the giant bottle of favorite olive oil I automatically purchased because I was almost out is yet unopened. Ack! I haven't used a drop in two weeks. Will I loose my taste for it? For butter and s&p, for garlic and heavy cream in a pan sauce? We are slowly reintroducing foods on the "maybe" list. Canned carrots, vinegar, applesauce, jam, and jelly. Bleech. Not much to work with. While the ailing family member may be feeling a bit better, my palate is in serious withdrawal and I am chomping at the bit (pun intended) to return to my favorite hobby: cooking. I might start dipping the ends of white bread loaves in my delicious olive oil when no-one is around. Yum!

tunneling mice? who knew!

2010-01-06T14:24:52Z

Having lived half a century I am astounded when I see something for the first time right in my own backyard. I am a very observant person. Success in my chosen career(s) has depended on it. Working in community corrections, details are very important, and missing a critical one could cause you injury, or at best (?), you might just loose your suspect. In the computer field, clearly, details make all the difference. As a chocolatier, we finish and garnish our products remembering that one eats with their eyes first.
So, when I spied these mouse tunnels in my yard the other evening, I was more than curious. Luckily, trusty Tiggr the cat helped solve the puzzle.
I expected a long search on google to find the proper name for this phenomenon, but my first hits were filled with the simplest explanations. There have even been children's books written about them. How have I missed this? I feel left out.
The morning after we spotted them in our yard, we saw hundreds more in a field while on our daily walk. Apparently when there's just the right amount of snowfall, and it's exactly the correct texture, when the little critters wander out they are not only unseen by the red tailed hawks looking for lunch, but the snow does not collapse on them or behind them.
Unluckily for one fat mouse, Tiggr has superb hearing, so he tracked the creature down and gleefully played with him before finishing him (or her) off. You can see from the messy catprints on the left, Tiggr had a fine time romping and playing with his prey. We've seen him do it before in this blog. Tiggr likes public appreciation.

The Moose is Dead

2009-01-28T20:52:47Z

Most certainly a common sign of an uncommon economy, small business and large are closing their doors. It seems to be happening every where you look, tune in, or converse. I am now a victim. The Chocolate Moose has closed it's doors, ergo I am unemployed. All of the candy has been bought at a discount, the furnishings are almost all sold off at rock-bottom prices, and the kitchen will be "on the market" this weekend for a steal. Dismantling it was the most bittersweet task of all. Pun intended. Shelves of nuts, jars of confectioners sugar, drawers of dipping tools. The tubs of garnishes for chocolates are coming to my home to roost. I made them a new nest last night in my fancy kitchen. Probably the most satisfying part of "cooking" for me is the final garnishing and plating. We eat with our eyes first, other senses second. I love to spend a few extra minutes making what I have prepared look interesting. I don't worry as much about how it tastes (good recipes & technique remove that doubt) but I do take the time to make sure food looks good. Since winters' snows are still upon us, I'll be making some special sweets at home for a while longer.
Long live the Moose.

CSA? What's that?

2008-11-07T20:53:55Z

As I visited with local farmers, flour millers (Wade's Mill) and vintners (Rockbridge) outside Lexington, Virginia last July, I was surprised that they did not know what a CSA was. You can read about the concept of Community Supported Agriculture here. I have been a member of a csa, The Farm at Miller's Crossing, for 10 years. My recipes are passed out to all of the shareholders, or members, during the 5 month growing season which exists here in the Hudson Valley. That is to help the members use all of the goodies in the weekly share. For example, arugula has a very long growing season, so it appears repeatedly in our harvest. After the first one or two pounds of it, some folks get tired of preparing it the same way, perhaps the only way they know. This is where I come in. I provide four or five recipes with each harvest that are closely matched to the produce in the weekly share. All year long I collect and develop recipes towards this end. I have about 25 that use arugula. Kohlrabi anyone?

I have a dozen ideas on how to get that unusual root on your dinner table. And now they are on the web, as well. Go see here.

We are planning to celebrate the great feast of Thanksgiving in Lexington this year. Yes, I am running away from home for yet another Holiday. I think that's just fine. I am bring some people, my favorite kitchen knives, local organic produce and root veggies from the Farm, and of course, a slew of recipes. That's what a CSA is.

She's happy, but the fish are not...

2008-07-07T19:33:20Z

The Tween learned how to fish on the fourth of July. In fact, it seems as though we've created a monster. We could not get her to put the pole down. She had worm guts and fish blood and hook scrapes and line burns all over her hands. "So what?" she said. I estimate she caught, and released safely, 30 to 40 sunnies, bluegills and strawberry bass over the course of three days. She was baiting the hooks with canned corn, cooked peas, worms and anything else she could dig up. Fearlessly she wrapped her bare hands around the wrigglers on the end of the lines and, without getting poked by their fins, carefully removed the hooks. In fact, one fish had an old hook under it's eye, so after she removed the small hook she had caught it with, she took pains to get that hook out as well. I can safely state that no fish were harmed in the making of this new fisherman. When she spotted a really big lunker, she got very excited. But the look on her face made a drastic change when the shiny two foot carp ate the strawberry bass, the hook, the line, the sinker and all in one gulp.

That was one that got away. She tried for two more days to catch it, and finally gave up when she spotted a blue-tailed salamander on the stones, which she proceeded to try to grab. Then her attention was taken by a garter snake which had draped it's body around a red-winged blackbird nest in the cattails. The parents were making a terrible ruckus, and the fledgling had hopped up the stem of the protective reeds to relative safety. There was no lack of nature to hold our attention this week. She named the regular visiting rabbit Steve, and no matter how many white tailed deer wandered around the house, it was definitely Frankie every time. We're heading back to the house in November. The flora and fauna will be waiting, I'm sure.

Big Balloons in the Sky

2008-07-07T19:30:33Z

28 years ago I took a ride in a hot air balloon while attending Syracuse University. A group of my friends there pitched in and bought me the ride as a gift. It's something you never forget, and it's also very hard to describe, despite having a good thesaurus nearby. Last weekend I got to share the experience with my husband and daughter. I took tons of photos and could not wipe the smile off my face. Virginia Military Institute's Parade Grounds made for the perfect setting for this annual event. I suspect we will return, Enjoy.

Walker's Creek

2008-07-07T19:26:23Z

Well, John, this one's for you. We spent a week driving alongside this creek, wading in it, and photographing the area.
Note there are 4 deer in the back edge of the field; two does and two very young ones.

As the stream babbled over the rocks seen here, it sounded to me like a woman singing in a deep contralto.

On The Road, again

2008-06-30T21:59:58Z

I know that's cliche', but we're heading south, this time to Lexington Virginia. There is a fourth of July celebration there involving hot air balloons, BBQ chicken, and a kids bicycle parade. Sounds like good old-fashioned fun to me, and it's mostly free! I have emptied all the camera cards and charged the batteries, so I'll be taking lots of photos. Plan on catching, grilling and eating a few trout (Bob will do the cleaning) and enjoying some nice Virginia wine, too. The three of us will be staying here. That's the house on a pond in the mountains. That's where the fish are, too, I hope. Most of the fun takes place on the grounds of VMI and WLU. Maybe the tween will attend in a few years....keep dreaming!

If a Tree Falls...

2008-06-01T12:56:50Z

...and you're taking a nap, do you hear it? The answer is a resounding "yes". Especially when it lands about 200 feet from where you lay. Five pm yesterday, high winds brought some sideways rain, hail and many trees down in my neighborhood. I had been napping soundly and sat bolt upright for an unknown reason. The storm had begun. As I dashed around the house closing windows, I noticed something wrong with the view to the north. Brigit and I collected hailstones off the back porch in our palms just as the storm passed on. A short stroll around the yard to survey the damage solved the mystery. This one used to grow along the sidewalk and the next door neighbors' property line. At the trees' base, there was only one thigh-sized living root, the rest was rotten, like damp sawdust. The entire trunk was covered in green lichen, going at least 30 feet up. The fallen diseased maple completely filled the yard of an apartment building, but missed an abandoned house; it's unfortunate the winds were not blowing a bit more southerly. We've been trying to get the Village to condemn the place for a few years. Yes, there really is a once-lovely Sears style home behind those overgrown weeds.

San Francicso Memories

2008-04-27T15:40:53Z

Having a previous career history in the criminal justice field, I was enthralled by Alcatraz. Alas, it was far too windy the week we were in San Francisco to get off the tour boat (for us), but I got some nice photos none-the-less.

Sunsets abound on the west coast, and here's one as seen from Greens Restaurant with the Golden Gate Bridge in the background (& some sailboat masts in between).

The church where Marilyn Monroe illegally wed Joe DiMaggio is pristine and beautiful.

The boat tour out to and under the GGB was terribly windy and cold, but that didn't keep me inside the cabin. I love feeling the sea breeze and mist on my face. The sailboats seemed to benefit as well...

San Francisco Here We come!

2008-03-31T15:32:05Z

I'll be riding a rented bicycle on the Golden Gate Bridge soon, and I hope I make it all the way over without injury. I have not been on a bike in two years. Last summer was spent in physical therapy for a broken ankle. While it feels much better 10 months later, any change in weather is broadcast not by the weatherman on TV, but by the sudden ache around my left foot. Sensible shoes abound! (yuk)

Other health issues have poked their nasty heads out of the sand lately, as well. Esophageal testing has me on medication for the first time. More tests lie in wait, but they are on hold while the West Coast beckons. BP is shaky, cholesterols and blood sugars excellent. I guess this "almost 50" thing does not get easier. One or two other tests will be redone (after the trip). Welcome to middle-age.

On a positive note, San Francisco looks like a fine place to visit. I've convinced the family to join me on Alcatraz, too. Wine country is waiting. Trail riding some horses to the hilltops for fine coastal views sounds really good. Any pain I feel in my foot will most certainly be remedied by the hot-tub on the deck (overlooking the beach, of course) with a glass of Willamette valley wine in hand. I'll send you some pictures.

blog overkill

2008-02-22T15:48:35Z

What's a lame blogger to do when she can't keep up with one blog? Start another one, silly wabbit! What kind of stupid idea is that? Well, it's mine, and I did it. I've been encouraged to check out blogspot, and here's the result.

an entry about nothing

2008-01-11T13:57:35Z

I have not posted an entry in 2 months. I'm not really posting one now, either. This is about nothing at all. Just a test. I hope it passes muster.

I have inserted a photo of the chocolate fountain from The Chocolate Moose, which was invited to setup a table at the New York State Museum Chocolate Expo in December. It was fun serving 5000 chocoholics. Our table was in the Adirondacks. But we should have been setup under the stuffed moose.

Right out of Hitchcock Flick

2007-11-09T14:30:59Z

I was just disturbed from my work by a huge shadow overhead, visible through the window directly to my right. And the noise...a screeching, squeaking, screening sound from above as well. I looked out and up, and there had to be quite a few hundred black birds swarming around the tops of the tall maple trees. I think they were starlings. As they moved closely through the neighborhood, blocking the sun, half the flock would try to settle on one particular tree, the other half still suspended, circling, searching for a better perch. I had just enough time to head downstairs and out onto the back porch. I wanted a better view and I needed to hear the sounds of the flock.

It was surreal. They continued to consider the trees: in my yard, the neighbors' yards, never all in the air at once, never all quite settled together. On one of their passes over head, I could hear random drops of poop landing on the leaves or the porch roof above me. I was glad to be standing on it's edge, hanging onto the post, leaning out while looking up. I bet I would have had quite a bit of bird droppings on me if I had been out in the open. I considered for a moment how often that many birds would naturally poop while flying around like that. Perhaps they were frightened of something, causing this swooping over my yard. Then, as quickly as they arrived, they were gone, heading west over Smith's pond. But before I got to the back door to go in I heard the familiar cawing of a pair of crows. Looking up, there they were, flocking a hawk, right on her tail, while she easily outmaneuvered them, annoyed none-the-less by their relentless badgering. This trio was following the trail of the starlings. Was this what had unsettled the huge flock? Was some larger creature of the sky to follow? Was I in a horror movie and didn't know it? Where is Tippi Hedren? I think I'll go look for Rod Taylor in the attic.