A Chicken In Every Granny Cart

Melissa tagged Ximena and Ximena tagged me! Yay! I love a game of tag! Especially when it has to do with food! And no running! It’s kind of like virtual duck, duck, goose.

All games aside, this is one cool project. Melissa was motivated to create this project by the BBC. Generally, I love the beeb, especially when they’re exploring whether or not cows have regional accents (moo-cents?) but on this one occasion, they really let the world down.

Granted, I’ve had many of the things on their list and agree heartily that they should be eaten at least once; lobster, cornish pasties and cream tea are things I’ve had just a few times (okay, I’ve had lobster more than a few times, but not often enough) but, come on!

Chinese food? Sandwiches? Pizza? Let’s be a little more specific! Chinese food at Congee Village, that I can buy. A cubano from Clinton Restaurant, probably not the best, but really darn good… Pizza from Lombardi’s? Yeah, that I heartily endorse. But this list, with no specifics? Kinda sad… We can do better than this!

And so, I hereby humbly submit my five foods to eat before you die. They’re all simple but sometimes the best things in life are life’s simplest pleasures.

I. Sometime around mid-November as the days are getting shorter and the impending weight of the holidays begins to bear down, a tiny thought begins tickling my brain. Without even realising I’m doing it, my walk home begins to shift subtly. I walk down Second Avenue, past the sad, shuttered shell of the 2nd Ave. Deli, and then my heart soars. I can just begin to see the warming yellow glow of possibly my favorite restaurant in the entire world, Veselka.

My heart begins to beat faster, is today the day? I get to the corner of 9th Street and wait to cross, can I see the sign? Is it there posted to the wood panelling above the old codgers at the bar straight out of Nighthawks? No. I’ll have to wait at least one more day for the world’s best soup to reappear into my life; Christmas Borscht.

Impossibly clear, the deepest ruby red, redolent of spices and earthy mushrooms, Veselka’s Christmas Borscht appears for maybe 45 days a year sometime around Thanksgiving and disappears with the New Year. Born out of the meatless Christmas eve dinner customary in Eastern European countries, the broth is made of beets, laced with vinegar and savory spices and is served with a few tiny mushroom pierogis and a delicate dusting of dill. I could eat this soup every day for the rest of my life and when it’s around I do my best.

II. When I was young (we’re talking single digits here), my family would rent a cabin up in Maine every summer somewhere in the shadow of Mt. Megunticook, just north of Camden. We would travel up and down the coast. I don’t remember much of what we did. We’d visit Andre the seal (before he was dead), the blueberry festival and my mom and I would beachcomb for hours (I can’t remember at all what my dad would do, I’m assuming he’d play golf). But the thing I remember the most, and this should come as little surprise, are the clams.

Steamers to be exact. I think I remember once (I’ll have to check in with my mom to make sure I’ve got this correct), I was little, maybe 6 or 7 and we were in a restaurant. All I wanted were clams so I ordered 50 or so steamers. The pile of bivalves came, I remember being very excited and I also remember the guy at the table next to us leaning over to my parents and saying, “You’re not going to let her eat all those, are you?” Either my mom or dad replied, “Why, yes, yes we are.” Guy, “She can’t possibly eat all those!” Parent, “Oh, yes she can and she will!” Guy, “Well, this I’ve got to see, and if she does, I’ll buy her dessert!” So, he watched and I ate, methodically, rhythmically, happily. Pry open shell, peel off the “turtleneck,” swish in sea water, dip in butter, pop in mouth, chew happily, repeat. I finished them all, the guy was agog, he stood by his offer, I flatly refused, unless of course by dessert he meant another round of steamers.

III. Both my mom and my dad grew up near Syracuse, and both their families still live up there. Syracuse is a funny place. It’s really cold and really snowy in the winter and ungodly hot and sticky in the summer. There wasn’t much to do up there when I was a kid other than hang out with my cousin. We’d go to the mall, to the Salt Museum, walk along Onondoga, boat on Skaneateles and go to the A&W with our grandmother. But sometimes, someone would have a party or barbecue to which someone would inevitably bring my favorite use of the potato ever discovered, the Salt Potato.

Tiny red potatoes are almost as common in Central NY soil as well, salt, so it was really inevitable over the course of hundreds of years that someone would figure out a way to combine the two. To that unknown person in the past, I tip my hat. Salt potatoes are simply those wee taters boiled in super-salinated water. One recipe I found calls for 1 1/4 pounds salt to 2 pounds of spuds. But it’s after the cooking’s over that the true potato alchemy happens. As the taters are cooling, the salt crystallizes on their surface, you then pop them into a bowl and dip them into drawn butter. Starch + Salt + Fat = Culinary Bliss. Over the years I’ve discovered that while the traditional way is possibly best, variations are also amazing. Last year for his birthday I made the boy salt potatoes with curry butter. You can also replace the butter with warmed olive oil (maybe with some garlic?) or even olive tapenade. Oh, and they’re delicious cold too! Seriously people, salt potatoes are the perfect food!

IV. I’ve just realised that 3 of my 5 foods to eat before you die involve butter. Hmm… I’m sure Steingarten would have something to say about that… What’s the third? Pretzels. But not just any pretzels, handmade soft pretzels from the Amish ladies at the Reading Terminal market in Philadelphia. I don’t really have a good story about these pretzels… Just a persistent, urgent longing to eat them again. I haven’t had one in just about a decade. Since I moved to the City I’ve developed a rather irrational grudge against Philly. I have no idea why, but it’s kept me from going back. I went back once for work, but I was babysitting a duo of cranky Europeans who turned up their noses at pretzels. Silly, silly men….

These are not generic pretzels. Each one is made to order. You step up, the woman gabs a ball of silky, pliant dough, rolls it out into a snake and then tosses it up in the air in a swirling, twisting fashion, and then it lands on the counter with a light thump, perfectly pretzely. It’s then bathed in butter, cloaked in salt and baked. It comes out of the oven piping hot and is handed to you in a napkin with a little cup of the world’s best mustard, perfectly balanced between sweet and hot.

V. It’s Saturday, somehow I’ve dragged myself out of bed and I’m wandering aimlessly through the Village. My head hurts, my tummy’s rumbling but I’m feeling fantastically incapable of deciding on something to eat, but I must eat… And there, what’s that on the corner? Gray’s Papaya! I’m saved… Time for the breakfast of champions, also known as The Recession Special; two of Gray’s insanely delicious hot dogs and a frothy, creamy papaya juice for $1.95.

I get both dogs with kraut, one with onions on top of that. The kraut-only dog gets mustard and the kraut + onions dog gets ketchup. Why? I have no idea… Remember, any day I’m eating two hot dogs for breakfast and I’m not at a 1:05 game at Yankee Stadium or noshing on a Nathan’s out on Coney Island, my mental capacity is naturally a little low, we’re running on primal instincts here people! And don’t be fooled by the other “papayas” out there. Papaya King, Clinton Papaya, they’re not the same. They don’t have the crispy grilled buns, their dogs ain’t got no snap when you bite into them, they don’t have the recession special and therefore they can never stand in as the breakfast of champions.

So, there you have it, my contribution to Melissa’s fantastic project! I hope everyone joins in, no invitation needed, but in the spirit of the meme, I hereby tag these five folk:

I. Chris of The Electric Stove

II. The Farmgirl of Farmgirl Fare

III. Faith of Mekuno Cooking

IV. The Committee of Tiny Banquet Committee

V. Tricia of Vin. Vini. Vino. and you know what? I’m adding Beau of Basic Juice as well. (hey, winebloggers have to eat too!)

One last thought: Do I really have to go to work today? I suddenly have an overwhelming desire to catch a train to Philly….

Cook’s Note: Hi all! Things have been REALLY stressful at work this week, and I knew a new post was waranted, but to tell the truth, I haven’t even touched a knife since last week. *sigh* At least today’s Friday. So to celebrate I’m pulling this post from the archive, from way back when this chicken was merely a fluffy wee chick. And since it’s Friday, let’s think about cocktails in the morning, shall we?

I wouldn’t say I’m a one trick pony cook, but I will admit that I have a few “go to” ingredients.

To wit: I like to cook with pasta, pork, cheese, verjus and vermouth; I have a condiment addiction, a really small kitchen and sometimes, I take really ugly pictures.

Before I started this blog, I really thought I was a wildly creative cook (that list up there makes me think twice about that assumption). I also intended this blog to be about the joys of crafting creative, tasty meals out of one of the most joyous of modern conveniences, the grocery store roasted chicken (hence the name, get it now?) But, it seems I should have called it A Piggy In Every Granny Cart.

Oh well, summer and her oppressive heat (N.B.: Hehe, summer’s almost over now and I can’t wait to get back to roasting meats again!) will soon end the roasting of meats in the oven, and I’ll return to buying my happy hens.

Given my culinary predilections I suppose it should come as no surprise to anyone then that I’ve created myself a cocktail containing one of my favorite pantry items: verjus.

We’ve had some of my favorite gin hanging around the house, Hendricks for a few weeks now. It’s made with non-traditional botanicals like cucumber and rose water and has a lovely, delicate flavor (and it doesn’t make you feel like dying the next day either!)

Hendricks screams out to be made into a martini, but sometimes, a girl just doesn’t want her booze with nothing else. I had that feeling a few nights ago, but there wasn’t much to mix with, just verjus and soda.

So, being the brave little solider, I gave it a go… and boy was I happy! The drink is light and highly fragrant, delicately flavored and very well balanced. It’s a springy cocktail if ever there was one! I didn’t have anything to garnish with, but a nice wheel of English cucumber (ala a Pimms Cup) would be wonderful.

To make, mix equal parts Hendricks gin and verjus. Strain over ice in a highball, top with seltzer, swizzle, sip, sit back and relax!

So, if you have these somewhat obscure ingredients lying around mix one up and celebrate the return of Daylight Savings this weekend.

Cheers!

Summer.

Lazy, hazy days full of jewel-toned, opulent tomatoes and heady herbaceous basil. Tiny, succulent berries, voluptuous stone fruits, lemon ades, barbecues…

Cheese.

*screeeech*

Cheese?

What does cheese (Gromit!) have to do with summer?

Well, there’s two people in our household and thus two people daydreaming about their perfect summer dinner. I dream in technicolor heirloom tomatoes, the boy dreams in black & white mozzarella.

It’s kind of a fun word association game to play with him.

I say heirloom tomato salad. He says DiPalo’s fresh mozzarella.

I say heriloom tomato sandwich. He says Bianca from the Hawthorne Valley Farm School.

I say heirloom tomato bread soup. He says goat cheese from Coach Farm.

I say heirloom tomato pasta sauce. He says young peccorino (also from DiPalo’s).

You get the picture. We are two highly focused type-A people when it comes to our food obsessions. Luckily, our obsessions dance together like Fred & Ginger, beautifully and in perfect step.

And so we let them dance on Saturday in the form of the simplest salad. Just tomatoes, basil (purple opal and genovese), extra virgin olive oil scented with Moro oranges from Sicily and a few chunks of ricotta salata, paired with Bread Alone’s outrageously addictive herb focaccia and of course, DiPalo’s sublime fresh mozzarella.

And since my obsession runs pure and deep, I decided it was time to do some “putting up”. It was too hot to actually make marinara sauce, so instead I froze some components to keep for a lazy cold day in December when a ray of August sunshine will be more than welcomed.

I passed some heirloom Italian paste tomatoes through a food mill and made an herby puree of Ryder Farm’s magical basil, Betsy’s garlic (the best garlic in the world) and oregano and froze them. (Doesn’t the frozen puree look like ‘mater pops?) It was a lot of work, but work I’ll be so happy I did in the dead of winter!

And FYI: It’s important to make and store your own pestos this summer (no matter how bad they look in photographs). There’s going to be a shortage of the imported stuff. Shudder to think!

Lovely Claaaaam! Woonderful Claaaaaam!

Sorry, woke up with a craving for some Spam. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, click here).

I love clams almost as much as I love stupid Monty Python sketches (Helloooo Polly!), and that’s a lot!

I love steamers. They’re the Graham Chapman of the clam world.

I also love the funny two-necked Adriatic clams we had in Croatia. They’re the Michael Palin of the clam world.

But my very favorite clam is the Little Neck. They’re the John Cleese of the clam world for sure!

My very favorite place to get my very favorite clams is at the Union Square Greenmarket, but it’s never easy. The stand on the west side of the park often sells out very early on Saturdays, a day I tend to be rather lazy.

So when the planets align and I do manage to get my paws on some Clammity Claaams! Wonderful Claaaams! I get rather happy schmappy.

The last time this happened I brought my Little Necks home, purged them and then threw them in the oven to roast. When they were all nice and bacony (clams are the bacon of the sea) I pulled them out of their shells and added them at the very last minute to a lovely risotto. Good times people, good times!

I was happy as a clam.

Head below the jump for John Cleese Risotto.
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No, not that queue, your barbecue!

First there were pretty bridesmaids… Now, let’s get on to the ugly brides; grilled meat!

Example A: Harissa Marinated Lamb Leg Steaks with a cucumber yogurt salad on the side. Definitely not pretty, but sublimely delicious.

Walking around the Greenmarket a few weekends ago we concocted this meal on the fly*. We got home, threw some harissa and olive oil in a bag, crafted the base of the salad, let things macerate and marinate and a few hours later threw it all together, grilled the lamb on the stove, sat down and feasted.

A few bites into the lamb the boy looked up at me and said, “Seriously, this is the best thing you’ve ever made. You should stop cooking now!” The lovely lamb-y gaminess shone through the subtle, spicy heat of the harissa to become a medley of flavors made in heaven. If you have some of this exotic spice paste in your fridge make this ASAP!

But, did I stop cooking? Oh heeeells no!

Example B: Gingerale, Ginger & Jerk Pork Skewers.

This past weekend tired of “grilling” on the stove-top, we decided it was time to get ‘hoodie with it and grill on the sidewalk.

There was some ginger ale in the fridge and so I thought, why not take a cue from Nigella’s trashy classic, ham cooked in cola, and use the ginger ale as a marinade. To the soda I added a huge chunk of grated ginger, a few cloves of garlic passed through a garlic press (I know, I know), a glug of citrus flavored vinegar, salt, pepper and a healthy heap of jerk seasoning to a Ziploc bag and added beautiful chunks of Dines Farms‘ goregous pork roast.

I let the pork marinate for a few hours while I concocted the Grated Kholrabi & Carrot Slaw. Our original plan was to take the whole mess down to the East River Park and grill but it seemed too far to walk, and not having done this in a long time (no outdoor space in our apartment building) we decided to just join our neighbors out on the sidewalk celebrating the Dominican Day Parade and grill on the “stoop”.

We got lots (and lots) of funny looks, a few jealous looks and probably some disapproving looks, but you know what?

Who gives a flying rat’s ass! We had the most delicious freshly grilled, gorgeously caramelized, gingery, garlicky, spicy pork skewers and they didn’t.

So, will we do it again? Oh hell yeah! Anyone wanna stop by?

*It dawned on me a few hours after dinner that I’d seen a meal like this before, somewhere…. and then it hit me I’d seen a far more complicated version over on Grant’s fabulous blog!

Side-dishes are always shunted off to, well, the side.

But unlike their human counterparts, culinary bridesmaids are often better dressed than the brides they’re there to support, especially when that bride comes in the guise of grilled meat.

Grilled meat may be the most delicious, tasty and wonderful food in the world, but they’ll never win any beauty pageants.

Summer salads, sidedishes and relishes, conversely, are beautiful, chock full of the brilliiant saturated colors of the season.

To that end, meet a few of my favorites from this summer.

Easy Pickled Onions are the little black dress of grilled meats. Simple, easy and always the right choice. Just finely slice some red onions, place in a container, cover with white vinegar, about 1/4 cup of cold water, a healthy pinch of kosher salt, about a teaspoon of sugar, and if you like spice, a finely sliced serrano pepper. Place in the fridge for a few hours to “pickle”. Serve with any grilled meat.

Honeydew & Mint Salad, flavored with lime and Ancho chile powder was delicious, especially when paired with citrus and chilie marinated pork. The salad never would have been able to stand on her own as a meal, but had it not been there, it would have been missed. Man and woman cannot live on pork alone.

Cucumbers In Dill & Yogurt were the perfect foil to harissa marinated lamb steaks. I have no idea if this is a traditionally Greek recipe, but it sure tasted authentic! Allow some finely sliced shallots, minced garlic, salt, pepper, about a 1/2 tsp of lemon juice and some chopped dill to meld with a cup of the very best yogurt (especially sheep’s yogurt) in the fridge for a few hours. Right before serving mix in a few peeled, seeded and chopped kirbys and some more chopped dill. Prepare to be adored.

Easy Turmeric-Scented Pickled Summer Squash are yellower than the August sun. I didn’t pickle these traditionally; sterilizing, boiling, etc. because I knew they wouldn’t last long enough to justify all that effort. I simply packed some finely sliced summer squash, purple onion and smashed garlic into two mason jars and then covered them in a solution of turmeric, salt & pepper, brown sugar and white vinegar. (Pickles made this way must be consumed within a few weeks of canning).

They’re not just delicious on sandwiches or straight out of the jar, they also provide the base for a mean summer slaw. Grated Kholrabi & Carrot Slaw was as easy as pie. Simply mix the grated vegetables with about half a jar of squash pickle and its juice, season with some salt, pepper and a dash of olive oil, mix and serve while sitting on the sidewalk, grilling ginger ale, ginger & jerk marinated pork skewers (more on those and all the other meats tomorrow).

I’m a priss.

Much to the boy’s chagrin I hate his idea of camping; tents, the world as my toilet, sleeping bags. My idea of camping is one that I choose to believe Jackie O or Audrey Hepburn or Mary Lou Whitney could get behind.* It includes indoor plumbing and beds (not necessarily in the same building). I like a solid wall between me and the hungry bears and rutting moose. I like a roof to protect me from falling trees.

When the family last year said we were going to spend a week in the ‘dacks** in a cabin I must admit, the priss in me was excited. The Adirondacks are the epicenter of sophisticated camping! Great camps! Adirondack chairs! Chris Craft boats! TR! Yeah, as usual my imagination ran away with the spoon (god I hate it when it does that).

The camp is lovely, very dated, a little grubby, but perfectly acceptable and quite cozy. The boy and I get to stay in the “Doll’s House,” a wee little out-building with a sitting area, a teeny kitchen, a toilet and a bedroom (with a shower in the corner). Last year when my nephew was still a fussy baby, it was a godsend. This year, a little less so.

As we drove into the camp it looked like the apocalypse had come and gone. HUGE trees were down everywhere, the road lined in what promised to become beautiful firewood. The main house had not been spared by the storm. It had been knocked on the roof and lost a few window panes resembling a boxer who had just gone a few rounds.

I’ve often poked gentle fun at a certain friend’s dog who gets so scared by thunderstorms he tries to sleep on your head. After that first night, Lou, I apologize. The thunder was so, well, thunderous, that I was shaking like a leaf. It is amazing how magnified the sound is when it comes down a mountain and travels over a placid lake. It sounded very much like the bowling pins in the legend of Rip Van Winkle.

Happily the next day, the weather was HOT. Last year it was so cold and damp we never went swimming and had to keep a fire going at all times. Not so this year. After one buggy hike i jumped straight into the lake. The hiking was far more strenuous in the heat and humidity, compounded by the constant fear of “widowmakers” (broken tree limbs hanging in upper branches of a tree that can come down at any time with nary a sound).

Besides getting to spend quality time with my mom, step-sister and her little man (aka my nephew), playing with Herr Wally, swimming and going on my step-dad’s sunset booze cruises, I love the cooking (natch). The stove is a delight, truly old school gas (no pilot light) and the huge kitchen is airy, bright and has nice high counter-tops (perfect for my above average height).

The boy and I decided that for our dinner we were going to cook the classic Dalmatian streetfood, Čevapčići (authentic at left, ours below and to the right). We had a jar of Ajvar hanging out in the fridge (sadly something carried home in our carry-on luggage, which judging from today’s events won’t be happening again anytime soon) and I had a rough recipe to work with.

Čevapčići are casingless sausages generally made of pork, lamb and beef. There used to be a decent grocery store in Tupper Lake (the closest town to the camp), but it closed. Tupper Lake has fallen on really hard times but will hopefully be boosted by the new Wild Center there. They have otters!

So this forced us to go to a store called the IGA (we say eh-ga, whereas I think it’s supposed to be called the i.g.a. Check out their site, they have an anthem), and the IGA forced us to make the Čevapčići with only pork and beef (pre-ground and with no indication as to proportions or parts, sigh). We also didn’t have any baking soda, so I used two egg whites to impart lightness. I spiced them more than was called for with some dried herbs I brought back for my mom.

And boy were they delicious! The boy grilled them and we even found a decent stand in for the gorgeous Croatian bread. I served them with olive oil braised summer squashes and new potatoes flavored with sage and raw, minced garlic. The meal was an unabashed hit with everyone but the little man. I think they were too spicy for him (it’s alright, he’ll learn to love the spice). My only complaint was that they were a little dry. The next time I make them I’ll actually be able to choose my meat, I’m sure that will make all the difference.

*I just want it to be known that I have even done my version of camping in the dead of winter up near Ithaca many times which, I think, qualifies me to be a bit prissy.

** Ever wondered why people call the Adirondacks the ‘dacks? Try saying the word with the sad New England inability to pronounce a glottal stop (think people (like myself) who are incapable of saying the word kittens like it actually has “t”s in it’s middle as opposed to “d”s). It curls the tongue into weird yoga positions that tongues don’t like to do, hence the need to shorten the word to ‘dacks.

Head below the jump for the recipe for ‘dacks Meet Dalmatia Čevapčići.
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Hi all!

I promise… I will get to our wonderful trip to the Adirondacks soon, but first I wanted to introduce you to my second Granny Cart editorial feature, Q·E·2: Quick. Easy. For 2. (It doesn’t have to be just for two people, but that’s our household). (And also of course you’ll remember that my first editorial feature is heirloom·modern).

My hope for Q·E·2 is to provide those just starting out in the kitchen (or those just completely overwhelmed with work/family) with a few simple tracery books of recipes. These are not handholding recipes (they require you to use your imagination and trust your taste-buds). To that end, I’ll provide bare bones ingredients (hopefully easily obtainable) and a few hints and suggestions.

None of the recipes in this series should be difficult. They shouldn’t require you to stress out or plan overmuch. They should be fun, easy and feed the pit of hunger hibernating in your stomach at the end of a long day at work (after-work drinks also shouldn’t be a factor… you should be capable of making any of these after a couple beers or a glass of wine or two, driving notwithstanding).

So without further ado, I present you with four “recipes” that represent the inaugural edition of Q·E·2.

Cold Soba, Warm Egg

I have a problem guys… A new addiction. It’s called Momofuku. Okay, good I see a few heads out there nodding in sympathy. For those outside NYC, Momofuku isn’t some dread disease, it’s a noodle bar. But this ain’t your ordinary Chinatown stylee noodle bar, this is a noodle bar that serves fresh, local, seasonal cuisine. Berkshire pork, Kurowycky sausages, seasonal pickles (omg, so good, you don’t understand…).

The biggest problems with Momofuku are, 1. I can’t go there everyday, 2. It’s a little pricey to eat everyday, 3. It’s hard to get into (small, no ressies, etc) and 4. Besides all that, they don’t deliver. So, what’s an addict to do? Try and recreate her favorite dish at home, natch!

Tsukemen is described as noodles, dipping sauce, Berkshire pork, poached egg. To recreate at home grab some bottled dipping sauce (aka Soba Tsuyu) from the local asian grocery and mix with some flavorings to make a tasty broth. Try combining the dipping sauce with heavy soy sauce, fish sauce, rice wine vinegar, sesame oil, etc. until you have a flavor that makes you happy. Toss some frozen edamame in salted boiling water. Add some frozen soba (or any Asian noodle) to the water when the beans are about half way done. Drain, rinse under cold water. Very lightly poach an egg for each person (the yolk should be rather runny). To eat: Put noodles & edamame in a bowl, pour dipping sauce over, place egg on top, garnish with pickled ginger and shredded wakame, season with a bit of togarashi. Dig in and slurp ’til your heart’s content.

Lobster Ravioli In Mushroom Sauce

If you have a Trader Joe’s near you, this one is a snap. TJs Lobster Ravioli are a steal at $2.99 a pack, come in the perfect size package for two people, actually taste like lobster, need very little gussying up and, to be frank, feel awfully sophisticated. “What’s for dinner honey?” “Oh, just some lobster ravis.”

Something to try? Saute some minced garlic in olive oil, add some pre-sliced crimini (aka “baby bella” ugh) mushrooms and allow to cook until they release their moisture. Flavor with a splash of lemon juice, some fresh oregano, salt, pepper and a wee bit of butter. Spoon the sauce over cooked ravioli. Mangia!

Truffles Love Eggs

Ever been seduced by one of those cute little jars of truffle pate? You know, the wee bitty ones that promise real truffle flavor without having to pay an arm and a leg? Or maybe it was truffle oil that got you. Either way, the aroma’s usually pretty good, but generally the flavor leaves something to be desired. The easiest way to enhance whatever flavor exists is so very simple, easy, tasty and elegant… scrambled eggs.

Prepare eggs for scrambling (2 or 3 per person, milk or no milk, heavily or lightly whisked, its your call). If using truffle oil, add a little to the eggs before cooking. Scramble in your favorite fashion (high heat, low heat, whisk, spatula, olive oil, butter, again, your call). To serve, place eggs on a plate, top with truffle pate or drizzled truffle oil. Serve with a simply dressed salad of butter lettuce.

Simplest Strawberries

A few weeks ago a guy at the Greenmarket had these beautiful frankenberries. He said they were a hybrid between his cultivated and some wild berries growing on his farm. I don’t care what they were. They were small and beautiful (about the size of a thumbnail) and actually tasted like strawberries. I felt like a kid again, when my mom would send me out for hours to go pick berries. So for a simple dessert preparation, I cribbed one from her playbook.

Halve the berries (quarter if large). Place in a bowl and toss with a tiny amount of sugar and a wee pinch of salt. Cover the bowl with a plate (to keep bugs out) and allow to macerate at room temperature for at least 30 minutes. To serve, place in a bowl and drizzle with heavy cream. Enjoy!

Well, that’s all for now. Next time, we go back to the mountains. Happy Tuesday!

People are funny… They search for the strangest things, and sometimes in their searching they make it here to my humble little blog. Sometimes the terms they use to get here make me wish they had never stopped by, but other times, they make me laugh my little patookis off.

I decided its been a long time since we last checked in with the interweb searchings that lead folk to the Granny Cart… So without further ado I present to you…

Curious Cooking Queries.

a simple explanation of making cheese (well, yes, I think we’d all enjoy that!)

leech my beet (shiver)

our ham comes from chicken sign

chicken soup sick -soul (those stupid books really have fouled up simple recipe searches)

cucumber and gin soup (yes, please!)

show me all croatian food recipes

roast a whole hog with sauerkraut stuffing (nummy)

recipe containing macaroni and cheese (hmm… I wonder…)

chicken lobster (hmmm… actually, I don’t quite know what I think of this one…)

jumping squid salad (no, thank you, I’ll pass)

boys should not cook (sometimes I agree, sometimes I don’t)

pasta ending in i (actually, wouldn’t this query work better as “pasta that doesn’t end in i?)

Ah, The Barnyard.

mind reading chicken (this scares me a bit)

recipes for stopping bloating on goats

chicken crosswalk signs (lol)

homemade poison to kill woodchucks (if anyone actually has this, my mother would love you forever!)

raw goat milk sinus infection

hard bunnies (this also scares me)

The Funny, The Famous & The Frightening.

creative clevage (for some reason I can’t help but think this had something to do with Giada DeLaurentis)

between oven space and counter (in my kitchen, not much)

alton brown inflated ego (hehehehehehe)

chicken snack imagination lady (wha?)

homemade walk in cooler (yes please!)

granny goose tortillas (wha?)

can dalmatian puppy eat butter and bread (I see no reason why not)

“chez panisse” +”steve jobs” (I guess even he has to eat)

poem about food in a pantry (I bet that’s a pretty cute poem)
As usual, the photos have absolutely nothing to do with this post. They’re from our recent trip up to the Adirondacks. Pretty isn’t it? More to come on the trip (and most importantly the food) at a later date.