Fall Fungus II

This time of year I spend a lot of time in the woods, often simply to enjoy the New England fall weather, colorful leaves, and the rustle of freshly dead leaves. As the season will progress, my time spent in the woods will become less. The landscape becomes more stark, a few obstinate leaves will cling to barren branches, unwilling to let go, even though all hints of life have long left its brittle husk, which is left to burn in the winter wind. Still further on, when the snows come, and it becomes a permanent feature of the landscape, things become quiet, save those stubborn leaves rattling in the trees, or the cold wind whispering in the pines.

But I digress. This year, with opportune rains, less than fruitful summer forays, and a situation less conducive to stalking larger game, I've been catching up on lost forays. Trying to distinguish mushrooms in the fall presents a unique set of challenges. In the summer, mushrooms are often hidden by the leafy understory, while in the fall, although the woods are more open, the ground is scattered with a myriad of colors. I've fared pretty well. On this particular day I revisited a find from last year, a nice patch of Hericium americanum, or pom pom mushroom. Actually, I've revisited the site several times hoping to find a bright white patch freshly srpouted from the dead tree, uprooted some time ago for some unknown cause. It was a pleasant surprise to find the pom pom, and a gentle reassurance the mycelium was alive and well.

Lemon Sole and Pom Pom Casserole

The Pom Pom mushroom has a superb texture and sweet flavor. It slices into nice slabs making it ideal for layering. This dish is full of complements. The fish and mushrooms add a delicate sweetness and body, the thinly sliced guanciale adds salt and depth, the yukon potatoes and cream add richness, the bready crumb topping adds a little crunch, and it's all slightly brightened by a spritz of lemon. The idea started out simple, but once things got going, the list of ingredients grew and the dish preparation became more involved than I would prefer on a mid-week evening. The sandman chases me during the week. It is a good recipe, albeit rich. Lobster would be an ideal replacement of the fish, and perhaps a dash or two of sherry would be in order.

Ingredients:

0.5 lb sliced Pom Pom (1/4 in.), or 2 cups
0.5 lb lemon sole fillets
1 Yukon gold potato or other white potato
1 oz thinly sliced guanciale, substitute pancetta
1 small onion thinly sliced
1 clove garlic minced
2 tbsp heavy cream
1 cup panko bread crumb
1 tbsp melted butter
2 tbsp minced parsley
freshly ground pepper
lemon wedge

I may have gone overboard on the preparation. Preheat over to 400 deg. In a saute pan, sere guanciale until crisp and set aside. If necessary, add 1/2 tbsp of vegetable oil to facilitate the sere. Retain 1 tbsp of fat, and gently saute onion/garlic and the murooms until lightly browned, remove and set-aside. Mix cream into onion/garlic mixture. Steam sliced potato and set aside. Mix bread crumb, parsley and butter.

In a 2 qt casserole dish, grease bottom with butter or vegetable oil and layer ingredients alternately, in no particular order with the exception of starting with potatoes on the bottom and one layer of onion/garlic/cream just below the bread topping. Bake for 15-20 minutes, until fish is done and breading is lightly browned.

I served this with beet greens sauteed in olive oil, minced garlic, and lemon. Not sure what beverage it was pared with, if I had thought about it and had time I would have picked up a decent chardonnay.

Fall Fungus

So it’s October and the current weather could be compared to my last update in May. As usual the summer slipped by quickly, more quickly than usual due to the damp and depressed June and July that sat on the Northeast. Although we were well saturated in the early part of the summer, my fungus forays yielded meager results. There was a day in early July that I discovered a small grove of pristine chanterelles, but the full bolete bonanza never came to pass.

When a April-esque drenching came along, I was ready. The conclusion of the storm was well-timed, and my extended lunch break found me roaming the ravines of Dogtown. Things started out slow; a russula here, amanita there, but nothing for home. And then, aha! a noble golden crown perched on a bright green bed of moss, lulled by the swollen stream gushing nearby. I had happened upon a freshly sprouted 4 lb hen of the woods, which I swiftly trimmed and stashed. Not far away I found another prize, a troop of hedgehog mushrooms nestled beneath the towering oaks and beech trees, all of them clean and new to the world. The hedgehog, or sweet tooth mushroom, although considered common, has largely eluded my forays, so I was happy to pluck these robust, toothed fungi from their repose. There’s something quite satisfying about a successful foray. Soon I will stalk the woods for different quarry.

Black back soup with trumpets of death

There’s nothing more satisfying on a cold damp fall day than a piping hot bowl of fish soup served with chewy sourdough. Although the title belies a heavy concoction, this is full of bright and clean flavors more reminiscent of those crisp fall days when the sun sparkles.

Ingredients:

½ lb winter flounder fillets

¼ lb black trumpet mushrooms

½ lb udon noodles

1 tbs canola oil

¼ tsp salt

¼ tsp red pepper flakes

2 tbs soy sauce

3 tbs cilantro

3 tbs green onion

4 cups fish stock

Cook udon noodles in salted water al dente, set aside. Sautee trumpet mushrooms in oil, add salt to facilitate the evaporation of excess moisture, set aside. Bring stock with pepper flakes to a simmer. Turn heat to low, add fish, noodles, mushrooms, and soy sauce. Ready to serve. Garnish with cilantro and green onion, serve with a crusty bread, I prefer buttered sourdough. I guess a Rogue ale would be appropriate.

Tog Wrassle

The water is warming quickly, it was in the mid 50s this afternoon of May 24. The tide was ebbing down the Sound, slowed by a steady southwest breeze in opposition. Hugging the shore, staying in the shallows, drifting and diving with 10-15 ft of visibility, I located a little nest of togs. On one dive, a big old white chin skirted a large boulder, not particularly alarmed, so I gave pursuit. Pursuit may be a bit of a misnomer when spearfishing, as the only way to get close to a fish that knows you're there is to be unassuming and nonchalant. It was clear this tog wasn't afraid, and after a bit of patience, she circled back within reach. The shot was quick, and the spear easily penetrated the fish. Unfortunately, the shot was a wee low, in the belly, a soft part of the fish that often results in it tearing off, only to be lost and die an ignominious and wasteful death. That's almost what happened. The fish did tear off, but it was wounded enough that it struggled to dart off into the nether. I quickly realized my second chance, managed to dive and pin the fish to the ocean floor as it struggled to get free. Grasping the fish in a bear hug I swam for shore. Now, tog are notoriously tough fish, and without getting into the gory details of the hunt, just as I arrived in the shallows this fish managed one last heave after being completely eviscerated, and slipped from my grasp. Ahhhh! I was crushed. After searching desperately under rocks nearby I came up empty handed. Round 2. I knew this fish couldn't have gone too far, it was just whether I could find her. Thankfully I did, the tog was swimming weakly about 15 ft away. After another round of rumble tumble, the fish was mine, and this time my bear hug lasted until I was on shore. A beautiful spring run tog, about 8 lbs, my first fish for 2009.

Upon returning from Turks and Caicos I was dismayed to find I had left the front portion of my polespear behind. It likely hid in an inconspicuous manner until we departed, lured by the perennially warm and crystalline waters. I can hardly lay blame, I thought about it too. But in retrospect, this act of desertion ended up in my favor, it allowed me to reevaluate. The spear that I had was 6 feet of 1/2 in. aluminum rod, pretty beefy for a lot of what I hunt around here, so far tog, Rhody stripers, and those monstrous cunner I found last summer off Cape Ann. I wanted a laser with a little kick, not something that was going to stone a 40 lb cow. After a bunch of carbon fiber, kevlar fiberglass, epoxy, stainless steel hardware, and some shrink wrap, I was in business. My new and improved spear, at 6 ft., is a lot lighter, a little longer, and I'm willing to bet pretty rugged to boot. This last point will be determined by time.

Fish Head Soup

Tautog, a member of the wrasse family, moves into Southern New England waters as the ocean temperature creeps over 50 degrees or so. Mother's Day would be a good bet for early arrivals. They enjoy munching on mussels, crabs, limpets, and other tough as nuts critters. To crush through the shells of their diet they have massive heads filled with thick, dense muscles, aka meat, and big gnarly teeth. Even the throat is covered with what would best be described as molars. I've heard tautog referenced as a poor mans lobster, but I wouldn't go that far. Monkfish on the other hand stands a chance at such a claim. But it does have surprisingly firm flesh, and is of a somewhat different consistency than the standard white flakes you find on most fish. Tog heads are known around these parts for making a superior fish stock, but I'd be surprised to see them show up at the dinner table, at least at a yankee dinner table. But after experimenting a few times with various fish heads over the last few years, it's clear there are some mighty fine morsels tucked away in there. So I was sure to make the most of this fish that nearly got away.

12 cups water
1 bay leaf
1 carrot, chooped
1 rib celery, chopped
1 small onion, chopped
1 disc ginger, smashed
1 stalk lemon grass, sliced and bruised
2-3 sprigs cilantro
1 tsp szechuan peppercorns
1/2 tsp chile flakes
1 togfish head and collar, split (+ the rack if at hand)
1 tbsp peanut oil

1 cup shredded Chinese cabbage
1 tbsp cilantro, minced
1 tbsp green onion, minced
2 tbsp nuoc mam
1 tbsp lime juice

In a ceramic dutch over, over medium-high heat, add 1/2 tbsp oil and sear collars and head on both sides, remove. Add remaining 1/2 tbsp, saute carrot, onion, celery, lemon grass, ginger, lemon grass, chile flakes until aromatics are released. Add water, cilantro, bay leaf, and rack, cover and bring to simmer for 1 hour. Skim as necessary. Strain stock through cheeseclotch.

Bring 4 cups clear stock to simmer, add fish head, collar, and 1 cubed carrot, cook 10 minutes. Finish with 2 tbsp noac mam, lime juice, 1 tbsp minced cilantro, and 1 tbsp minced green onion.

Pretty Little Things

A clothesline, strung up out back and used by the cleaning staff, would provide enough line, 30 ft or so. And after searching the house, and then the yard, I found my weight, a hefty piece of lava with a convenient hole that would allow me to tie off the line. I had my anchor. Caution would still be needed; the braided cotton line could easily fray and snap under the sharp edges of the volcanic rock. I didn’t want to surface from a dive in these unknown waters far from land and realize my kayak had been swept away by the steady and strong tropical winds, leaving me with a long swim home.

We had been in the house for a few days and were enjoying the island, ocean, and each others company. Lovely reef lined the shore, providing an array of sea life – corals, fishes, all sorts of pretty little things. Perhaps this would have sufficed, but the villa, perched on a hill overlooking the Bay, revealed an alluring patchwork of coral reef, ending with the barrier reef over a mile from shore, and then the big blue ocean beyond. Approximately half way out to the barrier reef the water color changed, turning from a crisp aquamarine to an even crisper, crystalline azure blue. Oh the possibilities; deeper water, more diverse structure, I needed to get out there.

It wasn’t long before I discovered a kayak buried beneath one of the decks, covered with random yard debris. After some minor harassment of our concierge for a paddle I was in business. The kayak was certainly sturdy enough, albeit slightly neglected and meant to be powered by two, not one. During one quiet afternoon, while the little ones napped and the rest recouped, I loaded my gear (pair of fins, mask and snorkel, polespear), checked for stow away snakes, spiders and scorpions, occupied the rear seat of the kayak, pointed the bow into the wind, and began to paddle. The afternoon head wind, a steady 15-20 easterly blowing in my face, didn’t make the trip easy. But slowly I pulled away from the shore, pushing through the small chop that was trying to persuade my kayak to turn back. I could barely see my destination, save for a distant white line created by waves crashing on the barrier reef over a mile to sea.

The chop slowly calmed as the kayak sidled into the barrier lee. The house, although greatly reduced in stature, was still visible. From the opposite perspective I had likely vanshied. Being so far from shore in this strange place, there was a bit of trepidation about forfeiting the safety of the kayak. Even though the water was clear, it was hard to tell how deep it was, or exactly what I should expect to encounter. After locating a nice big coral patch, contemplatively pulling on my gear and deploying my makeshift anchor, I anxiously slipped into the blue.

I found myself in a pristine coral garden, 10-20 ft. deep, visibility upwards of 75-100 ft. After ensuring the anchor was secure, I was off, meandering among and between the segregated reef patches sprinkled about, diving deep, following fish that caught my eye, peeking under dark ledges, floating motionless, observing the neighborhood dynamics. Many types of mature and healthy corals shimmered under the intense tropical sun – plate, brain, fan, sea plumes, and staghorn, to name a few. And of course numerous species of fish too, more easily grouped into families such as wrasses, squirrels, surgeons, tangs, triggers, parrots, grunts, chromis ( I love those little guys), rays, and the odd jack or barracuda, all darting or loitering in and about the coral heads, or out over the brilliant white sand flats stretching away from the reef structure. Even a large nurse shark glided past, hugging the sand bottom and paying me no mind, studiously followed by attendant remoras. The diversity was grand.

As the afternoon slid by, and my exploration spilled over the expected duration, it was time to leave this quiet place. Rejoining the topside world of wind and waves, I hoisted myself into the kayak, stowed my gear and hauled my makeshift anchor, and welcomed the assistance of a brisk tailwind and following sea on the long paddle back to shore.

Strombus gigas seviche

One of my targets upon arriving in these islands was an icon of the Caribbean, the queen conch. This is one mother of a snail, and quite a tasty snail at that. Years ago on Rum Cay I was first introduced to this meat, in the form of conch fritters and cracked conch. I know, a fritter with chunks of rubber band would probably taste pretty good, but this conch has a sea sweetness that deserves status. So I spent some time searching for these treasures on this trip, and ended up learning where they like to live. These big guys need room to roam so they stick to the flats, but they also liked all the goodies drifting off the reef so they set up shop down current. That's where I found them.

Seviche is a bit more subtle than the deep fried thing, but it can intimidate the palate of some. I was intrigued that the crew gave it a shot.

1-2 conch, cleaned (skin the feet too, it's tough), cut into small chunks
½ onion finely minced
pinch of habanero minced fine
2 tbsp chopped cilantro
juice from 2 limes
2 tbsp olive oil
salt/pepper

Toss and let rest for a couple hours. Serve as is or on a bed of local Graceway greens (they're local you know).

Townie Tomatoes II - Early Recruits

About a month along and the training continues. All of the players thus far have been quick out of the gate, vying for a role in the big show. Thinking the tomatoes and peppers would need the most practice, they were the first into the incubators, along with sage and some butterhead. Within a few days almost all of the maters had jumped out of bed and were stretching long. The pablanos were a little less exuberant, although they too were rubbing there eyes after a week or so.

It's all gone very fast since then... progress reports, sign up sheets, light adjustments, stage upgrades, you name it. Only a couple weeks in and the early recruits were ready for a bigger stage. Potting up to the larger soil blocks required a little patience, but after finessing these mounds from their molds it was time for the first cut. The two strongest performers from each tomato class, and the three top peppers were moved into their new homes, the others were thanked for their time and then dumped unceremoniously on the compost heap.

A 2nd casting was made in early April for peas, beans, basil, onion , and parsley. The peas and beans were even quicker out of the shoot. In fact, the beans were a bit too wild, and I realized they would be ready for the big stage before the big stage was ready for them. They were cut. We'll recast for these guys a little further on in the season. The peas were slightly more cautious, and progressed superbly. These were true professionals, and would bear up well in the outside world. They were moved from their quarters to the land of sun and stars on April 18th. We'll see if I pushed them too hard. They're currently sheltered from cold, spiteful April rain.

So all is coming along just fine. Another casting is slated for early May, the big boys of summer will get their shot then - we'll see who shines.



Antojitos - sweet potato enchiladas with fresh tomatillo salsa

I've been delving into Bayless's "Authentic Mexican"- it's quite informative. One item within Mexican cuisine that I've never grasped (among many) is the tomatillo. So I picked a few up and built this dish around a simple tomatillo salsa. Apparently you boil these buggers to mellow them down a little. Then blend them with a little salt, onion and cilantro - acabado! I bright accompaniment to the simple enchiladas.

Townie Tomatoes II - The Rebound

The 2008 release of Townie Tomatoes was a bit of a bust. The cast never really connected and ultimately fell flat. The basil made a respectable showing, and a few beans dribbled off the vine. But the Townies were uninspired and had poor performances. Others I won't mention. Being the Director, the blame starts with me; I missed the mark.

Several things went awry – a hornworm invasion, flooded containers, crafty squirrels, but not clearly understanding the difference between veggies in the ground vs. veggies in containers held sway. The growing medium just wasn’t up to snuff and the stage was never set proper. So this winter was a time to re-evaluate. First up, find another growing medium. In ’08 I used an even mix of compost, potting mix, and garden soil. Booooo. The result was poor aeration and high water retention, not conducive to plant vigor. This year, a 5:1:1 recipe of pine bark fines, sphagnum peat, and perlite, plus some controlled release fertilizer and garden lime mixed in should perk things up. This mix should improve aeration, water retention, nutrition, and structural integrity – at least that’s the plan.

Next on the list was the cast. No more lackluster hired hands from the local nursery - I needed fresh talent. The seeds arrived promptly in February, neat little packets of raw energy waiting to burst forth in the coming season. Directing that raw energy from the start would be in my hands. A first. This year’s performers: Rose heirloom tomato, New Girl early tomato, Smarty cherry tomato, Tiburon pablano pepper, Sweet Dumpling winter squash, Eight Ball zucchini, Little Leaf cucumber, Jade bush bean, Sugar Sprint snap pea, Oliver Brussels sprouts, Sylvesta bibb lettuce, White Spear bunching onion, Titan parsley, Xiang Cai cilantro, Italian Large Leaf basil, and common sage. Apparently last year’s performance hasn’t tempered my ambitions.

To get the little guys started on the right foot, another new tactic was employed: Soil blocks. Essentially forms of starting mix, in this case (interestingly similar to the failed media of last year) an even mix of peat, perlite, and compost mixed with a little lime and fertilizer, that would train the seeds for the real world. Instead of purchasing the soil “blocker”, the form used to create the blocks, I put my Portagee ingenuity to use, and built the blockers myself from aluminum cans. Canned goods come in a surprising array of sizes. The blocker is used to form the soil blocks, which can either be placed directly in the container at planting time, or can be placed into a larger block that will allow the plant to continue to grow, I plan to do a bit of both.

“Ready on the set…………………..ACTION!”




Winter Grind

Winter can create some serious routines. It’s good to break it up with something new. Last year it was wild duck confit, this year it’s wild duck sausage. Pretty rustic stuff, but delicious. Here I simply served with my rye bread drizzled with olive oil. I will do this again, but would likely use fewer seasonings.


Wild duck sausage

3 lb duck breast, ground coarse
3 lb pork butt, ground coarse
20 g salt
1 tsp garlic powder
1 tsp onion powder
1 tbsp ground black pepper
1 tbsp rosemary
1 tbsp sage
1 tsp cayenne
½ tsp ground juniper berry
½ cup red wine

Instructions: Grind, mix, stuff

October Ocean

The wind and waves have kept me from under water as of late, but this week, the 2^nd of October, has produced ideal conditions on Cape Anne. Although the water temperature has decidedly dropped, currently in the mid 50’s, which is down from the low 60’s this August, it’s still warm enough.

With a gentle westerly breeze keeping things calm, and a clear fall sky keeping things clear and crisp, I took advantage of my waning opportunities to dive among the rocks. Not sure about what to expect given the lateness of the season and my relative unfamiliarity diving the Gulf of Maine, I brought along the usual paraphernalia; Ray Odor polespear, lobster gauge, dive bag, and camera. I ended up using them all.

Plunging in at the head of the cove, my forehead, temples, and jaw quickly registered what buoy A0102 told me earlier in the day while perusing the NOAA National Buoy Data Center website, the water was getting pretty cold. Even my eyes burned a bit. But the tightness eased after a few minutes, as I knew it would, and I was rewarded with clean water and 20-30 ft. visibility in some parts.

Falling away into the Cove, the rocky shoreline gave way to a flat, sandy bottom layered with shells, mostly mussels. I surprisingly found a live hand-sized oyster resting on the bottom, partly encrusted in pervasive red coralline algae. That went in the bag. I wasn’t aware oysters populated these parts. Future investigations will be warranted. Eventually I ventured back to the boulder structure closer to shore where I was happy to find lobsters still in abundance. While doggedly searching each nook and cranny, I nearly settled on a well-camouflaged toadfish scurrying among the rocks, which was likely looking for the same fare as me. The bright yellow eyes were striking.

After an hour two, a hard chill gripping my muscles and rattling them about, I slowly headed for shore. But the clear and quiet October Ocean was not forlorn.

Lobster wontons dressed with Madeira infused cream

Taking advantage of a lobster surplus, I devised a batch of lobster, duxelle, and leek wontons to enjoy over the coming months.

Lobster Wontons (60 dumplings)

Ingredients

1 lb (5 1 ¼ lb lobsters) lobster meat,

4 leeks, minced, sweated tender in 2 tbs evoo

¼ cup duxelles (or diced mushrooms)

60 wonton wrappers

egg wash

Preparation

Dice cooked lobster meat and leeks. Sweat leeks ‘til tender in 2 tbsp evoo and dash of salt. Let leeks cool. Mix lobster, duxelles, and leeks. Mixture should be tacky. If dry, add lobster stock to loosely bind. Place 1-1 ½ tsp of mixture per wonton into center of wrapper, fold. Wash contact edges of wrapper with egg, fold wonton. Remove as much air from wonton as possible, place on lightly floured baking sheet. Try to keep wontons separated.

To freeze, place baking sheet directly in freezer until wontons are frozen (or mostly so). Then bag wontons in freeze bags for storage. This will ensure the wontons remain separated. Double bags will further reduce freezer burn.

Madeira cream

Ingredients (makes approximately 1 cup)

Ingredients

1 tbsp unsalted butter

1 large shallot, minced

1 clove garlic, minced

¾ cup Light cream

¼ cup lobster stock

3 tbsp Madeira wine

1 tbsp parsley, chopped

¼ cup grated parmesan

salt / pepper to taste

Final Preparation (for 4)

Steam wontons (approximately 10 minutes).

Sweat shallots and garlic in butter in sauce pan . Add cream, wine, and stock and reduce to consistency – approximately 10 minutes. Add ½ of parmesan to sauce to further flavor and thicken, add salt and pepper to taste.

Spoon 3-4 tbsp of sauce per 6 wontons, garnish with additional parmesan and parsley.