Olive Oil-Tamari Poached Salmon Bowls

I needed a quick dinner tonight and I had some wild-caught salmon. So I decided to do an Asian-spin on my old favorite: olive oil poached salmon.

Olive Oil-Tamari Poached Salmon

Preheat oven to 275 degrees. Lay your fish in an oven-proof baking dish. Fill pan with enough olive oil to mostly cover the filets. Drizzle the fish with tamari. Cover with foil. Place in the oven for 25 minutes.

Check for doneness. If the fish needs more time, return the dish to the oven. The fish is cooked when it is firm to the touch.

Assemble the bowls...
(1) rice;
(2) quickly sauteed cabbage with garlic and parsley with a splash of tamari; and
(3) olive oil-tamari poached salmon

Dinner in less than 40 minutes. Woohoo!

A Seed Primer

I wrote this for the WE Cooperative CSA newsletter this week and thought I'd share it here, too. All of these terms are ones I hear, but I was never sure of their exact meaning and implication for my food. Here's what I found...

We read and hear a lot of different terms in regards to our fruits and vegetables - heirloom, organic, hybrid, and GMO (genetically-modified organism). I thought I'd give you a brief run-down so you can begin to decipher what it all means...and why you should search out some and avoid others. Let’s take a look at a few definitions so we can better understand what an heirloom seed is compared to a hybrid or genetically modified seed.

Heirloom

'Heirloom' - like your great-grandmother's brooch or your great-uncle's cello -  generally refers to something passed down from generation to another. Heirloom seeds are from a plant that has been passed from one generation to another, cultivated and preserved because of its value. The value could be flavor, productivity, adaptability, or a combination of desirable characteristics. Many heirlooms have a legacy reaching back three centuries or more. These seeds are almost always the most prolific, most flavorful, and most dependable varieties.

Open-Pollinated

'Open-pollinated' is a term sometimes used interchangeably with heirloom; however, they are not synonymous but they are related. An open-pollinated seed is simply a seed that can be harvested from the plant, saved, replanted, and the same variety will grow year after year. Open-pollination is how heirloom seeds are produced. But not all open pollinated seeds are heirloom, as there are open-pollinated varieties that are not old enough to be considered heirlooms.

Organic

'Organic' denotes a crop grown to a strict and regulated set of standards, including not being treated with pesticides. The certification process includes inspections of the fields and processing facilities, detailed record keeping and periodic testing of soil and water to ensure that growers and handlers are meeting the required standards laid-out by the USDA.

Hybrid

A hybrid seed is produced by artificially cross-pollinating two genetically distinct plants of the same species, such as two different apples or two varieties of tomatoes. The cross-pollination is done manually and the farmer or gardener has to purchase new seed every year. Hybrids are typically bred for higher yield, greater uniformity, improved color and disease resistance. Flavor, historically, has not been a characteristic when selecting characteristics for new hybrids.

GMO

Genetically Modified Organism (GMO) seeds have been altered using DNA from completely different species and organisms to produce traits such as resistance to herbicides. Some GMO corn, for example, creates its own herbicide in its roots. The major crops that are currently genetically-modified are corn, cotton, soybeans and wheat.

Why Choose Heirloom

Many people come to heirlooms for nostalgic reasons. They are searching for flavors that they remember from their childhoods. Flavor has been one of the major reasons for the preservation of specific varieties. It’s the classic conundrum: quantity vs. quality. Thank goodness quality is making a comeback.

Butter-Braised Radishes

My radishes are most often relegated to salad. There's nothing wrong with that; I love fresh radishes. But I had seen a recipe for Butter-Braised Radishes that was posted in The Washington Post in 2008. I decided to give that a try with my own little twists. The braising rendered the usually piquant radishes mellow and silky.

2 T butter

1 bunch French breakfast (or any kind of) radishes, cleaned, greens removed, halved lengthwise

freshly ground black pepper

1 t raw honey

1/2 C water

Italian flat-leaf parsley

olive oil 

Use a pan large enough to hold the radishes without crowding. Melt the butter over medium heat; let it brown slightly. Add the radishes, honey, and water. Stir to combine. Raise the heat and bring to a boil, then cover and reduce the heat to low. Cook until tender, about 20 minutes or so. Uncover, increase the heat to high and bring back to a boil. Cook for another few minutes, until almost all the liquid has evaporated. Toss with chopped parsley and a splash of olive oil.

I served these lovelies on top of mixed greens tossed with a hazelnut oil-vinaigrette.

All Signs Point to: Paella

Paella has always been something I've wanted to make at home. For my 40th birthday I received a gift certificate - from one of my best friends - to a local kitchen store with a note attached: "For your paella pan...". Sweet! So, I headed over there and picked up a paella pan large enough to serve 10. It hasn't left the shopping bag yet.

Then, yesterday, at the Maker Faire, I saw the huge pans of paella goodness at the Gerard's Paella booth. We ordered two huge plates for lunch!






All signs are pointing to: Paella. From my kitchen. Stat.

Now I just need a good, traditional (or not traditional) recipe. Any suggestions, dear readers? I'm all ears. Comment below or email me directly at constantmotioncamilla[at]gmail[dot]com. Many thanks.

Bûcheron {Formaggio Friday}

'Se prendre pour un bûcheron.' The phrase just popped into my head when I saw this cheese. He thought he was a lumberjack. What?! Where did that come from?

Sort of like when I had Jake listening to Italian CDs before our trip in 2001. I remember he sat straight up in bed one night and said - with perfect pronunciation, I might add - 'Dove posso parcheggiare la macchina?" I burst out laughing when he asked, "What did I say?!" So the CDs were sort of working. But since he wasn't going to be driving while we were there, asking where he could park the car wasn't really a useful phrase to know.

'Bûche' means log in French and is the root word for the name of this log-shaped French goat cheese. Bûcheron is a lumberjack, I think. My French is rusty.  It's made near Sevre et Belle in the Loire Valley of France.

Each slice provides a glimpse into the ripening process for this soft cheese. In the center, the crumbly, chalky interior tastes lemony. As the log ages, it turns creamy, but more pungent.

I spread a baguette slice with Bacon-Fennel Jam and smeared it with bûcheron.

The boys all thought it was a little barnyard-y. Oh, well. More for me!

Three Philosophers - For Matt

 

Less than a week ago, I lost someone I knew. I saw on Facebook that Matt Schuler had died. At first I thought it was a joke. A sick joke. Then a few more posts and a couple of emails later, I realized that it was true. And it launched me down a nostalgic, wistful road.

Matt and I were part of the original 13 - thirteen students who began their high school careers at York School in Monterey a year early, as eighth graders. By the time we graduated five years later, our class had swelled to 32 with a few kids drifting in and out through the years. For the most part, it didn't matter who had arrived in eighth grade, ninth grade, or even transferred in as a junior. What it meant to me was that Matt and I shared many, many classes. From English to Physics and Chemistry to Choir, he was there. Most memorably, he and I were the only two in our class who slogged through five years of Latin when only two were required. By the fifth year, we began to bicker about what we should read. He wanted to read Pliny's war histories while I longed to read Ovid's love poetry; our teacher, Mr. Sturch, brokered a truce: two days a week I would read Ovid, two days a week Matt would read Pliny, and one day a week we would read whatever Mr. Sturch wanted us to read. Sounded reasonable.

Over the twenty years that have gone by since high school, Matt and I lost touch. But as many of us have, we reconnected through social media. And my family and I had the pleasure of brunching with Matt and his girlfriend Kim when they were in town for a family function. Since then, Matt followed my kitchen blog and commented on my recipes or my libation creations. Just a couple of weeks ago, I penned a blogpost about National Absinthe Day and the bottle I had picked up on my way home from work. "I think the St George is close to the best American absinthe," he wrote. I wondered which one he would have deemed the best, but I didn't ask. I should have because now I'll never know.

Though I wouldn't characterize my relationship with Matt as a close friendship, we were more than acquaintances. We were two people who had shared five years at a very small school; shared tables over meals, both as adolescents and adults; and shared a passion about good food and great drinks. Reading through the remembrances written by Matt's friends, I see a picture of a man who was giving and loving - one who constantly challenged the people around him to be better, to learn more, and to seize the day.

One of the stories another friend posted - Three Philosophers by Paul Berry - introduced me to a new beer. Leave it to Matt to introduce me to a winning brew even after he's gone. When I was standing in front of the cooler at WholeFoods after my run, there it was. Three Philosophers. So, I bought it.

And I came home, cracked the bottle, told Jake the story that Paul had shared, and poured it. "Slowly so as not to disturb the yeast sediment, but with enough vigor to create a luxurious head and release the sumptuous bouquet," instructed the label. Sounded like something Matt would say.

The verdict: this reminded me of the richness of Samichlaus but a little lighter - perfect for summertime.

Thanks, Matt. As usual, your recommendations are spot-on. Cheers...wherever you are. You are missed.

Bol Renverse {Mauritius}

 Bol Renverse (translated as Upside Down Bowl) is a popular Mauritian dish with Chinese roots. It's really versatile. You can add any vegetables you want and you can use any meat that you want. I found recipes that used cabbage; I had chard. And the boys were reading about the religious breakdown of Mauritius and noted that Hindus don't eat beef while Muslims don't eat pork. So, we went with chicken.

2 C cooked sticky rice
3 chicken thighs, deboned, deskinned, and thinly sliced
1 Spring onion, trimmed and thinly sliced
4-5 shitake mushrooms, thinly sliced
1 bunch of chard, thinly sliced
3 carrots, cut into coins
1 egg per person

Cooking: (1) Make a stir-fry with all of the ingredients except the rice and eggs. Season with soy sauce and thicken, if desired, with a little bit of flour or cornstarch. (2) Beat the eggs with a splash of water or milk and cook into a flat omelette.

Now here's the fun part: assembling your bol...

1. In a small serving bowl, lay down a piece of fried egg.

2. Spoon in a couple of tablespoons of your stir-fry.

3. Cover the mixture with rice. And gently press into the bowl to form a mold.

4. Cover with a flat dish and invert onto the serving dish.

Beetroot Halwa {Taste and Create}

This is my third month participating in Taste and Create and I was assigned to Sara's Tasty Buds. There were so many recipes that I wanted to try, but I had my heart set on one of her halwas. She has a cornflour halwa, a wheat flour halwa, and even a lentil halwa! But I decided to make her Beetroot Halwa because I already had some leftover roasted beets in my fridge...and I've never heard of a halwa made with beets before. We did make a carrot halwa once that was delicious and easy!

My only stumbling point was 'khoa.' I had no idea what that was, but one site suggested it was similar to ricotta, so I went with that. Also, I subbed almond paste for her cashew paste and butter for ghee. I know, I know, purists are rolling their eyes, thinking that I should have gone to the store. But it was the end of a long and trying week. I was going for easy. And it turned out great.

1 C shredded beets
1/2 C organic granulated sugar
1/2 C ricotta cheese
2 T almond paste
4 T butter
1 t ground cardamom
sliced almonds, for garnish

Place all of the ingredients in a large flat bottom-pan. Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly, until the mixture is well-blended and warmed through. Spoon into individual serving dishes and let cool slightly.