Sloppy Joes at Deer Camp

Up at deer camp, my brother and I do the cooking. This year we had moose meat (we got a moose last month). We brought up some steaks, hot sausage and a shoulder roast.
When we were hunting for the moose, our guide always brought moose meat sandwiches. If he hunts deer, he brings venison. We're not quite the hunters he is.
I decided I'd make Sloppy Joes for our first night there. I didn't have a recipe but figured it couldn't be too hard to come up with something ground meaty, tomatoey, with heat and some sweetness. I picked up some ground pork to go with the moose sausage - moose is pretty lean.
I mixed the moose and the pork together in a cast-iron skillet with a bit of olive oil, things complicated a bit by the moose's frozen state. Separately, I cooked up some onion, garlic and bell pepper.
Kev and I had gone shopping at Hannafords in Essex. I'd picked up the pork there as well as Kaiser rolls and Bove's Roasted Garlic Pasta Sauce - if it had been July I'd have made the sauce from scratch but given the season and Deer Camp being fairly rustic I went with the sauce. I added the sauce to the meat and then mixed in the peppers, onions and garlic. I then tasted and adjusted - adding a bit of sugar, cumin, salt, pepper, Worcestershire sauce and then, after time for everything to get acquainted, over the rolls it went.

It wasn't exactly what I'd had so many Friday nights in East Charleston but it was g.d. tasty. Dad certainly liked it.

Raphanus Sativus

Growing up we only had radishes raw. There was usually a bunch of them in a white bowl in water in the fridge. We ate them mostly with a sprinkle of salt. Sometimes they lent a spot of spicy color to a salad or crunch to a potato salad - a cold, refreshing crunch.

I've tried cooking up radishes and radish greens. No success so far with the greens. I just can't get past the scratchy feel of them which cooking them doesn't completely solve. (More shallots? Duck fat?) So far, the best luck I've had with radish greens is to scatter them about on a serving dish and then to place radish halves slathered with a watered down goat cheese spread on the halves atop them.

Cooking the radishes themselves, they lose their punch and become more like their turnip cousin. So I rarely cook radishes because they lose most of what I like about them. Last night I made a soup. I had decided a cold radish soup would be good. I googled and lo and behold found a recipe. It called for cooking up radishes, a leek and a shallot. I did (and ate several raw with salt while doing so). I added chicken stock, reduced it and then cooled it. Then the food processor for a rough puree. When it was time for supper I garnished it with radish slices and parsley. I'm pretty happy with it. It has taken its place in my limited cold soup repertoire joining gazpacho and cucumber. I need to make more cold soups.

The other thing about radishes I like is the blank stare I usually get when I talk about something having "had the radish." I've heard it has been used to refer to a person's being exhausted; though in my experience it was always about a thing, as in, this shirt has "had the radish," it's time for the rag bin. It's an expression I heard a lot growing up - my Dad's usually good for using it once every couple weeks or so. Not everyone is au courant though. I tried it out on my uncle who grew up in the same area last week. He didn't know what the heck I was talking about and he still lives in the Northeast Kingdom. Language is a funny thing. If you ever figure out where the origins of "had the radish," let me know. In the meantime, happy crunching.

Quinoa

Since quinoa does not come from a grass it is not a grain. Corn comes from a grass so it is a grain though I think of it more as a vegetable that's really good with butter and salt.
Corn and quinoa both pop when you eat them kind of like caviar does. I'm OK with the corn's popping but having caviar and quinoa ricocheting around the inside of my mouth wigs me out.
However, it's supposed to be really good for you so I bought some and cooked it up. Cooking it is easy - like a pasta or like a grain. If you cook it like a grain then you don't have to feel like you're pouring a lot of good nutritious water down the drain.
It's usually used like pasta or rice but I'm thinking its nutty taste would work well with maple syrup or peanut butter - maybe that would put a damper on the popping.

Pesto

When I asked the guy at the produce stand at the farmers' market if it was ok for me to take a picture of the garlic scapes he told me it was fine. Actually he said something more to the effect that he wouldn't ask them to sign a waiver. After I took the picture he wanted to take a look and then he asked me what I did with them. I told him I made them into a pesto. He said he used them in mashed potatoes and then we talked pesto. He asked me how the garlic scape pesto was different from regular pesto. I talked about the garlickyness of the scapes so then he asked how it was different than regular garlic.
What? A garlic pesto? Who's this crazy man?
I struggled and said something about how it would be more green a couple of times, more green, a green fluorescent color, as if that said everything about how it would taste. The taste of chlorophyll.
Actually, I had never thought to make a garlic pesto. When you say pesto it's usually taken to mean basil, olive oil, pine nuts, Parmesan cheese, salt, pepper and maybe a clove or two of garlic. Could be something else green but that only if you were cutting edge crazy like I thought I was. I had ventured into arugula, kale and scapes (not a fan of onion scape pesto). And here was this guy suggesting it could be bone white. I considered and decided to give it a go.
Later I found out that the word pesto comes from the Italian for pound, crush. I made pestos with both.
They were both spicy though the garlic pesto was hotter, the bring tears to your eyes kind of spicy, it would be perfect spread onto toasted bread or with a rare steak. It didn't taste quite as...green. I like the taste of green so will take the scape route while they're in season.

Peel Back the Onion

Been thinking about onions.

I was curious about the layers. How many are there? Are they like tree rings? Is there a ring formed per week? Per month? Where's the logic?

This one had thirteen, counting the outermost paper layers. We don't eat the outermost ones though it seems that the only difference between them and the innermost is the amount of moisture they hold.


Have I missed my calling? Should I have become a food scientist? Or am I completely off base?

When the alphabet loops back around I may have to post something about my future experiments with hydrating onion skin. These outer layers might make a handy tapas delivery device.

Back to the layers - I've read that the number of layers is determined by the number of leaves an onion has. I'm still not satisfied - why thirteen leaves (if that is, indeed the case)? Aren't the leaves part of the ring anyway? And are they really called leaves?

Nightshades

Spud Solanum climbed the soft hill to where the microphone waited, glinting in the moonlight. He cupped it in his left hand, “Ladies and gentlemen, in this corner…” To Spud’s left, Queen Aubergine, resplendent in lilac and green, the undisputed champion of the hill. Queen had successfully defended her title two weeks running, turning to pulp all comers. She had had a good run but Spud saw a soft spot, a brown bruise upon her shoulder and knew it would come to an end soon.

Spud was no tot himself. Before coming to the ring he had been in his dressing room trying to focus himself in the mirror. He squinted and splashed water upon his eyes but still could not see clearly. He rubbed them, felt the telltale nubs; he had heard of sprouting but never thought it would happen to him. He calmed himself and following some indecision, snapped them off. He could see clearly, so clearly he noticed folds in his earthy skin. He resolved to work more with the cucumbers; he would not go gently to seed.

“…from the next vine over, in the red trunks, weighing 163 grams, The Red Terror!” Except for the ripe blush of her skin, her name hardly seemed to fit her. Spud thought one good left jab from Queen and she’d be ketchup.

“OK, I want a good fight, a fair fight, now go back to your corners.” The fruits went back to their corners to await the bell.

Maple Sugaring