Squash Sloppy Joe

Here's  an easy sloppy joe, perfect for a quick and tasty dinner with more veggies than your standard joe. It's a "Summer Squash Sloppy Joe" but I think winter squash works just as well (make sure you cook winter squash before adding it). I like to use whole wheat buns and extra sharp cheddar.

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Summer-Squash-Sloppy-Joes-239165 

Cincinnati Chili

This is one of my all-time favorite recipes.  I generally post recipes that I've created or significantly modified, but this Cincinnati Chili recipe in Bon Appetit is perfect just the way it is.  

The only thing I change (sometimes) is to add different meats, depending on what's available. The recipe is great for any meat that's a little gamey; grass-fed beef, lamb, goat, buffalo, or venison.  Give it a try, I'm sure you'll love it!

http://www.epicurious.com/recipes/food/views/Cincinnati-Chili-363731

Chicken Stalk

The scent of bubbling chicken stock permeates my small old home. I inhale the memories of childhood holidays; my father simmering the leftover turkey carcass the morning after a day of feasting; a heartwarming broth of bones, onions, carrots and vegetable scraps. But I have a different reverence for the chicken simmering in my pot, because I sliced off its head.

I have attempted to make my home a rural patch of Pittsburgh. However, urban farming has proved to be more difficult than my Urban Farm subscription makes it seem. My shady city yard barely manages to produce scrawny herbs and a few stubs of kale. The city dashed my hopes for a few little egg layers by making them illegal on my lot just as I was drawing plans for a coop.

I fantasize about my future backyard: a garden brimming with vegetables, rows of fruit-bearing trees and shrubs, chickens pecking and scratching at the ground, perhaps a goat whose udders are heavy with milk. The earth’s bounty will be visible, audible, and smellable. Abundant fresh food will be a few feet away.

However, a backyard is not requisite for every aspect of hobby-farmer training. During my stint in the city there is plenty to learn; seasonal cooking, cheese making, canning, fermenting, rendering, composting, charcuterie, and most recently, butchering.

The sun streams in through my kitchen window, avoiding my garden, and I stand at the sink looking down at my work. I pick every edible morsel of the chicken’s boiled body so nothing is wasted. I think about the last moments of his free-roaming life and how he came to be in my kitchen.

Whenever possible, I interrogate a hobby-farming coworker, Andy. I search him for bits of experienced hobby-farmer wisdom. What chicken varieties are your best layers? Why do you prefer oxen to draft horses for plowing? Do you have chickens available for meat? Andy eventually invites me to his hobby-farm to help him process chickens.

I drive an hour north of the city to Andy’s home on a wet weekend morning, astonished at the length of his daily commute. His driveway is lined by a fence enclosing geese on the left and goats on the right. Behind the goats is a studio-sized chicken coop. Striped, black, red, white, and iridescent chickens strut freely all over the property, softly murmuring between quick attacks on insects and seeds.

I usually see Andy in blue scrubs, but here he is dressed in a stained white shirt and splotchy denim overalls tucked into rubber boots. Farmer Andy introduces me to his wife then shows me around his ten-acre farm. I breathe in fresh country air laced with scents of mud and fresh cut grass. I study the detailed and practical construction of his large coop. A large rectangle box protrudes from the side of the coop. I lift the hinged roof and a black hen, busy laying an egg, twists her head to peer at me with one round eye.

Andy takes me into a pasture with two giant red oxen. I pretend not to be fearful of the potentially disemboweling long horns while I rub the sleek coat of an ox. I watch the ox curl its smooth tongue into its nostril as it stomps and shakes away flies. We leave the pasture, walk past the untamed sunflower field, and meet the unlucky birds quarantined in an animal carrier.

Deftly, Andy reaches into the cage and grabs a young rooster by the legs, hanging it upside down. He ties orange synthetic bailing twine above its scaly yellow feet and strings it to a white and blue spiral-striped swingset frame. The upside-down bird is remarkably calm and still, its hanging wings resemble a wide W.

Andy holds the chicken’s head with one hand and quickly slices through its neck with a sharp knife. The headless fowl suddenly becomes animated, flapping wildly, spraying blood from the writhing stump all over the grass. Andy repeats the process with two more birds. With one rooster remaining I ask, “Do you mind if I do it?”

Creases form in Andy’s forehead as his eyebrows rise. He expected help with plucking and cleaning the birds, not with butchering. Having never killed a land animal before, I am nervous that I might cause the rooster more pain than necessary. But for the sake of my future farm, I believe this is something I need to learn.

Andy hands me the weapon. The tranquil rooster sees an inverted, lanky, virgin-butcher approaching it with a dagger. I put my left hand around the rooster’s thin neck. His dark red feathers are downy and soft. The bird remains completely motionless despite my contact. The misty rain feels cool on my face and hands.

I position the knife at his neck, take a deep breath, and silently thank him for his life. With full force I slide the knife into his flesh, meeting resistance at the spine. My heart pounds, not wanting him to suffer. I grit my teeth and push the knife though the dense cartilage of his vertebrae. Severing the spine feels like cutting through wet rope.

I let the head fall to the ground and step back from the spewing blood. I expect to feel sadness and grief for having taken an animal’s life. Instead I feel grateful; grateful for the rooster providing food, grateful for Andy giving him a good life, grateful for the opportunity to experience the sacrifice of eating meat.

Once the rooster’s flailing subsides, Andy takes him down and dunks the body in a tub of boiling water on an outdoor propane burner. The drenched bird shrinks instantly as the puffy feathers become heavy and wet. Big raindrops smack my head and shoulders. Andy suggests we complete the process in the kitchen.

We set the birds on the granite island. I glance around the recently built home. There is hardly any furniture or objects, the walls are naked and neutral, and there are no appliances on the countertops. The few objects I notice are intended for the baby on the way. Evidently, Andy and his wife take more interest in their outdoor activities.

I grab a handful of wet feathers and pull. Dark red quills poke out between my fingers. I repeat the motion until the fowl is nearly stripped. Then I tweeze the last stubborn feathers with my thumb and index finger. The bare bird looks nothing like its relatives at the grocery store. It’s lean and covered with dark fuzz from the downy feather shards that won’t wash off.

Andy shows me how to delicately cut around the anus and loosen the entrails. The greenish ribbons of intestine fall from the cavity. The guts reek, not surprisingly, like chicken shit. Andy’s hand disappears in the carcass and comes out with tiny organs. With Andy’s guidance it’s my turn to eviscerate a chicken.

The warmth of the carcass is startling, having always handled meat straight from the refrigerator. The firm folds of intestines come out easily. My fingertips probe to detach the dense and slippery kidneys. I penetrate the thin diaphragm to remove the spongy lungs and almond sized heart. The esophagus, slick and membranous, separates from the body with the force required to unplug a toaster. I rinse the hollow carcass, put it in a bag, and drive home.

Back in the city I roast the rooster and baste him with Amish butter, rosemary, and garlic. I purée the cooked heart, liver and gizzard with cream, shallots and sherry and enjoy the bold and pungent flavor of the pâté on a baguette. I eat my meal slowly, letting each bite linger in my mouth, appreciating the full flavor his life provided. The meat is moist and rich from his diet of sunflower seeds and insects. The leftovers of the chicken become fragrant stock with onions and carrots from farmer friends, Jane and Jeff, and herbs from my garden. I have never felt more connected to my dinner.

--Christina Szalinski

First published in The Inquisitive Eater.  Used with permission of The Inquisitive Eater.

DC Metro Locavore

I have not been a good blogger lately.  I recently finished graduate school and moved to the DC Metro area to start a job.  I will miss Pittsburgh, my friends and my favorite farmers (especially Mott Family Farmers) tremendously.  Moving has made my locavore commitment difficult, but not for the reasons I expected.

In the first week here I went to farm markets in Dupont Circle, Bethesda, and Rockville.  There is an abundance local food available in the area (including drop-offs from the famous Polyface Farm), however, I have sticker shock. During my Low Income Locavore year in Pittsburgh I ate for $5.43 per day (on average for 301 days) and I'm not sure that would be possible here.  Stay tuned for my adventures as I look for ways to eat a DC local diet affordably.  

Another reason I haven't posted is that in a different kitchen with a different stove, I am failing at cooking.  I'm scalding things I never had trouble with in the past and my timing is completely off. I have a renewed appreciation for beginner cooks.  Though from past experience, I am confident it will get better.

While you wait for me to recover my cooking skills, I recommend that everyone in the DC Metro area check out Stonyman Gourmet Farmer cheeses (you can find them at the Central Farm markets in Bethesda or Rockville).  Completely incredible and worth every penny.

Asparagus in Creamy Lemon Pasta Sauce

This quick and easy dish was delightful; the delicate lemon flavor complimented the crisp spring asparagus.

Servings: 5
Time: 15 minutes

1 pound pasta
1.5 pounds asparagus, chopped into 1 inch pieces
2 tablespoons butter
Zest from 1 lemon (~1 tablespoon)
Juice from 1 lemon
1 cup half and half
1 cup grated parmesan cheese

Bring salted water to a boil and cook pasta per instructions.  Heat frying or saute pan on medium and add butter.  When the butter is melted add asparagus.  Stir frequently for 4 minutes until asparagus are bright green.  Add the lemon zest and juice and stir for 1 minute.  Add half and half as well as 1/2 cup cheese, turn heat to medium-low and simmer for 2 minutes.  Salt to taste, then turn heat to low.  When pasta is finished, mix pasta and sauce.  Garnish with a sprinkle of parmesan cheese and parsley flakes.


Thanks Mott Family Farm for the amazing asparagus!

Bike Fresh Bike Local Farm Tours

The Pennsylvania Association of Sustainable Agriculture is hosting 25, 50, or 70 mile Bike Fresh Bike Local farm tours along country roads across the state:

Bike Fresh Allegheny County - Sunday, June 2

Fresh Centre County - Sunday, August 4

Bike Fresh Chester County - Sunday, September 22

 Registration is $40, which includes food and beer.

Easter (or Secular) Eggs Goldenrod

Every Easter I look forward to making my Great-Grandma Marjie's eggs goldenrod with the abundance of hardboiled eggs, but it doesn't have to be Easter to enjoy this hearty breakfast. 

Eggs Goldenrod
Makes 4 large portions (this recipe can be scaled to accomodate more or fewer servings)

8 slices of toast or 4 english muffins
8 hard boiled eggs

4 tablespoons of butter
4 tablespoons of flour
3 cups of milk
1 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon white pepper

1/4 teaspoon of garlic powder 
8 slices of toast
chives, chopped for topping (optional)

Peel the hard boiled eggs and separate the yolk from the white.   Put the yolks in a small bowl and use a fork to break into small pieces.  Coarsely chop the whites.  In a saucepan on medium heat, warm the butter until melted and bubbly then add the flour and stir until it makes a paste.  Add milk, a splash at a time, whisking constantly until lumps disappear.  Then add the salt, pepper and garlic powder.  Turn the heat to low and simmer until thickened, stirring often for about 10 minutes.  Mix in the egg whites.  Serve on top of toast or english muffins with a sprinkle of egg yolks and chives.

French Onion Soup

I had beef soup bones from Burns Angus Farm in my freezer and I wanted to make soup while it was still cold outside.  I made beef stock, a smaller version of this recipe, with the soup bones, celery, onions, carrots, garlic, bay leaves and water.  Then I made a fabulous French onion soup:

French Onion Soup
4 Servings
Active Time: 30 min
Total Time: 1 1/2 hours

1 pound onions, cut in half and sliced thinly lengthwise
2 tablespoons oil (I used half butter half olive oil)
2 tablespoons flour
1/2 cup port wine
8 cups beef stock
1 bay leaf
1 tablespoon dried thyme
Salt and pepper to taste
4 pieces of crusty bread, cut into 1 1/2 inch thick slices
1/2 pound gruyere cheese, sliced thinly or grated
4 ovensafe bowls

Heat oil in a stockpot on medium-low then add onions.  Cook onions on medium-low heat, stirring occasionally, until brown and caramelized (45 minutes - 1 hour).  Stir in flour then add port wine and continue stirring until thickened, about 2 minutes.  Next add beef stock, bay leaf, and thyme and turn up heat to medium high until boiling.  Once boiling, turn down the heat and simmer for about 20 minutes so flavors can meld.  During that time, toast the bread under the broiler on low until golden brown, about 3-4 minutes per side.  Remove bay leaf from soup and add desired quantity of salt and pepper, then pour into oven safe bowls.  Float a slice of bread onto each bowl of soup and top with gruyere cheese.  Put the bowls in the oven and broil on low until cheese is melted and bubbly, about 6 minutes.  Serve immediately.

Philly Farm & Food Fest

Save the date for the Philly Farm & Food Fest on April 14th at the Philadelphia Convention Center Annex.  General admission is $15 and kids under 12 get in free.  Enjoy the Local Libations Lounge, watch cooking demonstrations, buy humanely raised meat, learn at various workshops, and check out over 100 exhibitors.

Lard and why I love it

A few days ago I made lard. Unlike vegetable shortening (such as Crisco), lard has no hydrogenation.  The problem with hydrogenation is that it generates trans-fats.  Trans-fats are worse for one's health than cis-fats (like those found in lard) because trans-fats are not found in nature so the body processes them differently.  Although the new Crisco formulation claims 0 trans-fats, it actually contains 0.5 grams of trans-fat per serving (less than the required amount for labeling). I looked at the Crisco food label and noticed that the total fat was 12 grams, but when I added up the fats they list it only adds up to 11.5 grams, leaving out the 0.5 grams of trans fats (below I added them back in). I was surprised to learn that other than Crisco having trans-fats, lard and Crisco are relatively similar in nutrition:

Vegetable Shortening			Lard
1 tbsp			1 tsbp
113 calories			115 calories
Total Fat	12 grams		Total Fat	12.5grams
Saturated Fat	3.0 grams		Saturated Fat	5.0 grams
Trans-Fat	0.5 grams		Trans-Fat	0    grams
Monounsaturated	6.0 grams		Monounsaturated	6.0 grams
Polyunsaturated	2.5 grams		Polyunsaturated	1.5 grams

Ingredients			Ingredients
SOYBEAN OIL, FULLY HYDROGENATED PALM OIL, PARTIALLY HYDROGENATED PALM AND SOYBEAN OILS, MONO AND DIGLYCERIDES, TBHQ AND CITRIC ACID (ANTIOXIDANTS).			LARD

Another great thing about lard is that you can make it at home, with just one simple ingredient (according to Michael Pollan's food rule: don't eat anything with more than 5 ingredients).  Plus by making my own lard I can support small farmers instead of big agribusiness. My adventure in lard-making started at Whiting Meat in New Wilmington, PA where I asked for 4 pounds of pork back fat. I intended to make a small batch, to last a few months.  The man at the counter went into a cooler and returned with a long piece of fat he folded in half on the scale.  The meter read 18 pounds and he murmured "if you don't use it all just throw it out" and charged me about $15.  The chunk I took home was over 2 feet long and 2 inches thick with bumpy pale skin on one side and a few long streaks of pink muscle left on the other.  I cut half of it into cubes (the rest is in the freezer) and put the cubes into a glass Pyrex dish and cooked them in the over for about 3 hours at 250 degrees.  Then I let it cool for 10 minutes and poured it through cheesecloth and into mason jars.  It was so easy and the final product is wonderful.  Tonight I used my lard to make a fantastically rich and flaky pie crust for quiche.


For more about lard check out these articles:

Lard: the new health food? in Food & Wine

High on the Hog in The New York Times

Who Killed Lard?  in NPR Blog

Farm to Table Conference Pittsburgh

Upcoming Event:

7th Annual Farm to Table Pittsburgh Conference

March 22-23, 2013

David H. Lawrence Convention Center

Pittsburgh, PA

One day tickets are $10 and include admission to see farmer's market and health vendors, live cooking demonstrations, and expert presentations about health and local food.  Check the Farm to Table Pittsburgh website for more details.

Spicy and Sour Bok Choy Noodle Soup

Servings: 4
Total Time: 45 minutes

1 tbsp oil
1 large onion, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 tsp powdered ginger (or fresh ginger)
2 small hot peppers or 1 tbsp hot pepper flakes
2 large carrots (optional), peeled and cut into small pieces
8 cups vegetable or chicken broth
1 pound bok choy, coarsely chopped into pieces
1/4 cup rice vinegar
1/4 cup soy sauce
1 tbsp sesame oil
2 tbsp sesame paste (or substitue natural peanut butter)
1/2 pound rice noodles

Heat oil in a medium stockpot, add onion and cook until translucent.  Then add garlic, ginger, hot pepper and carrots and stir until garlic is fragrant, about 3 minutes.  Next add broth and bring to a boil.  Cook until carrots are tender, about 15 minutes.  During that time, bring water to a boil and cook rice noodles per instructions on package (not cooking rice noodles separately will thicken the soup).  Drain noodles and add to soup once the carrots are cooked.  Then stir in bok choy, rice vinegar, soy sauce  and sesame paste.  Simmer for another 3 minutes, until bok choy is wilted but still crisp.

Shepherd's Pie

A hearty dinner for a cold winter night.

Shepherd's Pie

Servings: 6-8
Total Time: 1 hour and 15 minutes

Mashed Potatoes:
3 lbs potatoes (about 8 medium, peeled if desired)
3 tablespoons of butter
1 tablespoon minced horseradish
2 teaspoons of salt
2 teaspoons of pepper
1 cup of milk

Filling:
1 cup chopped onion
3 cloves of garlic, minced
2 lbs ground beef or lamb
1 tablespoon cumin
3 teaspoons of salt
2 teaspoons of fresh ground pepper
2 tablespoons flour
1.5 cups of red wine (or beef stock)
1 cup peas
2 lbs turnips, peeled and chopped into small cubes
2 large carrots, peeled and chopped into small pieces

Put potatoes in a pot and cover with water, bring to a boil and cook until tender, about 15 minutes. While the potatoes are cooking, on medium/high heat saute onions until translucent (about 3 minutes) then add garlic and stir for an additional 1 minute.  Add beef/lamb and stir, breaking up pieces, until the meat is fully cooked.  Add cumin, salt and pepper and stir until well mixed.  Stir in flour.  Add wine or broth, peas, turnips and carrots.  Turn to low heat while preparing potatoes.

For mashed potatoes, pour off water when potatoes are tender.  Add milk, butter, salt, pepper and horseradish.  Mash until smooth.

Add beef and veggies to a 9 by 11 inch glass oven-safe dish and top with mashed potatoes.  Bake at 400 degrees for about 30 minutes, until mashed potatoes are golden grown.


I sourced onions and garlic from Mott Family Farm, beef from Burns Angus Farm, turnips from Clarion River Organics, potatoes form Penn's Corner Farm Alliance, and butter from Minvera Dairy.