Showing posts with label autumn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label autumn. Show all posts

Thursday, November 25, 2010

Happy Thanksgiving!










Copyright © 2005-2010, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved

Monday, September 14, 2009

Farmers Market 2009 - Summer into Fall

Winter squash, bosc pears, late peaches and early apples were offered at our Saturday farmers market this weekend. A sure sign of summer's long slide into fall.

Click on over to Mimi's kitchen to see what's in her CSA box.


Copyright © 2005-2009, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Roasted Autumn Soup With Potatoes, Carrots And Leeks

It happens every fall. The days grow shorter, the nights cooler, and grilling time becomes scarcer.

With no warning, no I think I'll make soup today, suddenly I must get out the large stockpot and begin to make that quinessential celebration of autumn: Soup.

Our soon-to-be in-laws, Vyrle and Dolly, generously sent us a bag full of purple, red, yellow and russet potatoes, freshly dug from their Oregon farm and hand-carried by Miles when he flew from Portland for a recent visit. Last week I roasted a pan of those beautiful potatoes with some carrots, always making enough for company (in this case Robert and Simona) and leftovers.

At the farmers market last Saturday I picked up fresh leeks, Walla Walla onions, garlic and a fat, happy jalapeno pepper. As always - beautiful, organic, and locally grown.

And there it was: Inspiration staring me in the face.

With grateful thanks to Vyrle and Dolly and, always, to our local farmers, I offer yet another iteration of my penchant for heart and soul warming fall soup.

Christine's Roasted Autumn Soup with Potatoes, Carrots and Leeks
Serves 8-10 as a main course
Ingredients:
16 small, medium and large garlic cloves, peeled, left whole
1 large Walla Walla onion, coarsely chopped
2 medium leeks and 5 small leeks (or whatever you have on hand to equal about 3 cups chopped), white and light green parts only, cleaned, sliced lengthwise, coarsely chopped crosswise
olive oil for the pan
1 teaspoon kosher salt
freshly ground black pepper
1/2 cup extra-dry Vermouth for de-glazing the pan
10 cups vegetable broth or chicken stock (I used Pacific Foods Vegetable Broth, produced in Oregon
6 heaping cups previously-roasted potatoes and carrots, coarsely cut
1 rather large jalapeno pepper, charred, peeled, seeded, chopped
1 tablespoon fresh oregano leaves, chopped
6-8 sprigs fresh thyme, leave whole
Juice from 1 very large Valencia orange, strained
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

Preparation:
Have a large stockpot ready on the stove.
Pre-heat oven to 375 degrees.
Lightly oil a large baking pan, add the onion, leeks, and garlic and season with kosher salt and black pepper. Cover with foil and roast for 20 minutes. Remove the foil and continue roasting another 15 or 20 minutes or until the vegetables become golden brown and caramelized.
Remove the pan from the oven and scrape the vegetables into the stockpot. Immediately pour the Vermouth into the hot pan and scrape up all the browned bits, pouring it all into the stockpot.
To the stockpot add the broth or stock, potatoes and carrots, chopped jalapeno pepper, chopped oregano and thyme sprigs.
Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat and simmer, partly covered, for 25 minutes.
Pour in the orange juice and stir to blend. Taste and add more kosher salt and pepper if necessary.
Remove the pot from the heat and allow to cool for about 10 minutes. Fish out the now-bare thyme sprigs; they will have left their herby leaves in the soup.
If you have an immersion blender, get it out now. If not, you can puree the soup in small batches in a food processor.
With the immersion blender on 3, begin blending the soup taking great care not to splatter it on you. It's very hot. As you blend, the soup will thicken. Stop blending when the soup is the consistency you desire. If using a processor, place 2-3 cupfuls at a time in the bowl and pulse until it reaches the consistency you desire. Repeat. (See how easy it would be if you had an immersion blender?)

To Serve:
There are any number of ways one can serve this soup. One of my favorites is to add a dollop of creme fraiche or sour cream thinned with cream, then sprinkle the dollop with fresh thyme leaves and/or toasted almond slices. Another way is to stir a cup or two of buttermilk into the soup just before serving. Don't let it boil, however, or it will curdle. Me and Mr CC: we like our soup unadorned, straight from the pot, with good crusty bread, a fresh-from-the-garden tomato and cucumber salad, and a glass of deep red wine from the southwest of France. Mais oui!



Copyright © 2005-2008, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Beginnings Of A Winter Garden

Good Horsey


11-9-07:
I think I should have been a bit more descriptive with this photo montage:
Photo #1 - lovely Arab mare, Emi, aka the compost maker.
Photo #2 - gigantic pile of composted horse poop, courtesy of Emi.
Photo #3 - red worms happily breaking down the horse poop.
Photo #4 - composted horse poop being shoveled onto and mixed into garden beds.
Photo #5 - Chard, broccoli and arugula starts.
Photo #6 - the compost maker up close and personal.

Ah, country life!





Copyright © 2005-2007, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved

Sunday, October 7, 2007

Dining Alfresco ...

... As summer wanes into autumn.

Bathe in the soft, golden light, gently warming, yet bringing with it a hint of crispness, a slight chill. The sky is blue as blue can be and the sunsets are spectacular. Put on a sweater, pull up a comfy chair. I'll pour you a glass of wine as we savor simple food and these last harvest days before we go indoors for the long winter. Eat up, it's all good for you.
Broad beans from the farmers market sautéed in olive oil with slices of Claudia's garlic, Cypress Grove's Truffle Tremor, pitted kalamata olives, so easy to pop into your mouth, heirloom tomatoes on a bed of organically grown arugula - both from the farmers market - drizzled with a basil-balsamic vinaigrette and punctuated with chunks of fresh mozzarella, Neiman Ranch incredibly delicious dry salame (not too much though, just look at those circles of fat!), small, sweet peppers, fried in olive oil and sprinkled with kosher salt, black unpitted olives paired with slivers of roasted garlic (a favorite of mine from France), local whole wheat walnut bread from Brio, grilled andouille sausage with a grainy dijon mustard for dipping, line-caught smoked salmon (pair this with goat cheese on a slice of walnut bread - heaven!),

and always, always a glass of wine - sometimes rosé if it's warm out, but mostly a deep, satisfying red to ward off the approaching evening chill.

Savor the sunset as long shadows creep along the garden creating deep shade here, a pool of golden light there. The sound of honking prompts you to lift your head to the sky to watch the geese flying south in their familiar V- formations. Closer above you the last of the swallows flit about, dining on the just-hatched winged ants, so rich in the protein the swallows will need for their long flight south.

We must never take this bounty of nature for granted. We must nurture it, hold it in the hightest esteem, care for it, honor it, assure its cycle of life - as dear as our own.



Copyright © 2005-2007, Christine Cooks. All rights reserved

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Late Summer Vegetable Tian

Days are getting shorter here on the north coast. The air is cooler and there's a snap in the air that portends the coming of autumn. Growing up in the Sacramento Valley, the change of seasons from summer to autumn was much more pronounced. Evenings and early mornings were clear and cool and I could smell the sharp, earthy scent of fallen leaves composting on the ground. The color of the autumn sunlight was also different, casting longer shadows of shades of soft gold rather than the harsher hot white of summer. And even though the change is more subtle where I live now, I feel it nonetheless, and somehow lean into it, welcoming the beginning of shorter days, cozy nights with warm fires and hot, warming food.

End of summer organic tomatoes and sweet white corn are abundant right now in our markets, as well as the first local (inland) eggplants with their shiny, purple-black skins. I wanted them all. In one dish. Layered. With the flavors of each vegetable melting into the next, like a French tian. What is a tian? According to my French cookbooks, it's a dish, mainly of vegetables, created in layers and baked to a glorious, crusty goodness. It can contain cheese and grains but almost always is topped with bread crumbs. Originating in Provence, a tian is a shallow earthenware casserole as well as the food it contains. Upon doing a google search however, a lovely site called French Gardening dot com specifies a tian as a bowl with a top wider than the bottom, for making dishes like cassoulet. After reading that, I'm not sure which is the real thing, but I'm going with my French cookbooks and French food authority Patricia Wells and trust that the tian is more of a gratin dish.

(Speaking of cassoulet, when we were in the southwest of France last fall, I had the opportunity to indulge myself in this rich bean, sausage and duck dish. Once in Sarlat, ending in a very uncomfortable, sleepless night; the second time being a more enjoyable 2-hour lunch accompanied by a beautiful bottle of local red wine in Carcassonne. For a humorous and educational piece about cassoulet and its origins, I recommend you read this. And as soon as I get my nerve up, I'll make it and post it here.)

Back to my tian. As I've been writing this, I've googled many words to find links for you to peruse at your leisure, and in doing so have found that some of my fellow food bloggers have already posted recipes for vegetable tian or at least a dish using many of the same ingredients. I'm in good company.
Although I've done layers in the past, this time in the interest of time, I cut my vegetables into chunks rather than slices and layered them one on top of the other. This creates a more rustic appearance to the finished dish but it still melts together deliciously. Eaten the next day, it's even better than the first.
Ingredients:
1 large sweet onion, peeled, cut in half lengthwise, then crosswise into thin slices, like half-moons
4 large garlic cloves, peeled and chopped fine
2 red bell peppers, seeded and deveined, cut in 1-inch pieces
1 pound mushrooms, sliced
4 ears fresh corn, shucked, silks removed, kernels cut from the cob
3 medium oval eggplant, cut into 1-inch pieces
6 large ripe, red tomatoes, skins removed, cut into chunks
1/2 teaspoon dried marjoram
6-8 large basil leaves, coarsely chopped
Kosher salt
Freshly ground black pepper (I use Tellicherry)
1 cup seasoned bread crumbs (I use locally made, whole wheat Brio croutons and crush them into crumbs)
Olive oil for the pan
Ovenproof oval or rectangular ceramic or glass dish that will hold all the ingredients

Preparation:
Lightly oil the baking dish (tian) and set aside.
Heat 1 tablespoon of olive oil in a cast iron skillet over medium heat. When pan is hot, add the onion slices and saute until soft, but not browned. Spoon into the tian and spread over the bottom.
Adding more oil to the skillet as needed, increase the heat to medium high and saute the mushrooms until they are limp. Layer on top of the onions.
Spread the uncooked corn kernels over the mushrooms and sprinkle with the marjoram.
Saute the red peppers next and spread them over the corn.
(As you are building these layers, you can sprinkle a small amount of kosher salt and black pepper over each one.)
Next, adding more oil to the pan, saute the eggplant cubes until they are browned and softened. Spread them over the red pepper layer and sprinkle with salt and pepper.
Finally, place all the tomato chunks in the skillet and cook until their juices are released, about 2 minutes. Add the garlic and chopped basil and cook until it's aromatic, about 3 minutes more. Pour the tomato mixture over the rest of the layered vegetables.
Sprinkle the bread crumbs over the top of everything and drizzle with a bit of olive oil to moisten.
Cover with foil and bake in a 400 degree oven for 30 minutes. Remove the foil and bake for an additional 20 minutes to create a browned crust on top.
Just for fun, here's what we watched as the tian was baking in the oven. Notice the greater pacific fog bank just above the trees? That was over the top of us within the hour.