Cooking Class on November 14

We will be having a Community Church cooking class on Saturday November 14, 2009. It will be held at Bill Bernard's newly remodeled and very instruction friendly kitchen in Allied Gardens. The menu will be as follows:

Avocado, shrimp, and grapefruit salad with gingered vinaigrette

Apple wood smoked grilled salmon with honey mustard glaze with a hint of Raspberry and wasabi

Rissotto'd orzo with parmigiana

Pecan praline green beans

Crunch top apple pie with cardamom whipped cream

To better interact with cooking students and facilitate hands on instruction, the class size will be limited to 10 students.

Cost is the unbelievably low price of $15.00, meal following to be shared by attendees.

Call Pastor John at 619-583-8200 for further info and to reserve a place.

Fruitfulness and the Cutting Down of Trees

Fall is my favorite time of year. While most of the country receive frost on the pumpkin, the leaves turn scarlet, russet, orange, and yellow, and the animals put on their thick winter coats, our signals of fall are the very epitome of subtlety. Our days are the most clear of the year, temperatures in the high 70's, but with crisp nights (at least crisp for us). The evening sounds change, frogs chirp in the canyon, dozens of different insect sounds begin that are unheard the rest of the year. October and November always give our best sunsets of the year. There is nothing like floating in a kayak on the ocean as the sky begins to be painted in tempera tones before your eyes. We shared the first apple pie of the season with friends. Fall apple pies are better in every way than those made during other seasons. It is also our best time of year for gardening. It is time to clean up the thick and abundant growth of summer and prepare the soil and plant winter crops. Fall is also our very best planting time.

Part of the rhythm of fall planting is making tough long term decisions. Occasionally a tree must be removed because it isn't performing the way it should. I have removed plenty of trees for not performing in the past. The prevailing mood of our times is that performance ought not be taken into account anyway. In soccer tournaments everyone gets a trophy because we would feel badly if anyone had their feelings hurt by not winning. Little League games no longer keep score of runs. We pass everyone on to the the next grade, because we are concerned being held back might damage their self-esteem. It seems the realm of agriculture is the last bastion of the cold, hard, no-nonsense assessment of fruitfulness. To a farmer, a tree gives a return on the investment of space, water, fertilizer, and the time and care of the grower or it is cut down. My post-modern/non-judgmental/failure to criticize mind can barely take in the concept. A living thing should have its life terminated purely for failure to perform? Almost unfathomable.

Preparing apple pies reminded me I have a agonizing decision to make. I am confronted with a four-fold decision of extreme difficulty. Four apple trees of mature age and substantial size need to come down. Adding to the difficulty of the decision is another factor most farmer/businessmen do not face. These four trees have tremendous sentimental value for me. They have names: Anna, Ein Shemer, Gravenstein, and Beverly. Anna was the first tree I planted when we moved into our home. Ein Shemer was a gift from dear Israeli friends from the kibbutz on which it was created in the Gallilee. Beverly was removed from a friend's garden that would have been otherwise cut down. Gravenstein is the most fragrant apple I have ever smelled. It also juices into better cider than any other apple. These trees are dear to me. Removing a tree is not like painting a wall a different color. It is not receiving a bad haircut that will grow out and can be re-fashioned next month. There is a horrendous permanence to a tree's removal. I grieve when I see the stumps of giant sequoias in the Sierra's that are now flat discs of wood twenty feet across that merely give a hint of their former glory as the world's oldest and grandest living things.

The trees will come down. The die is cast. The saw sharpened. My precious tree from the kibbutz is gone, a stump. The rest are next. Why must they be removed?

They have been infected by a tiny pest. How can something so small become such a menace? It looks so inconspicuous. A tiny bit of white fuzz, a little blister or gall, a speck of mildew. They have been overcome by woolly apple aphid. This pest, once active, spreads to every tree in the orchard. The pest does some damage where you can see it, but it is far from distressing to view. In fact it looks like almost no problem at all. Where the real damage happens is the roots. There is no cure, no remedy, no alleviation of this desperate sickness.

The pest travels underground, unable to be reached or affected by any sprays. It travels along the roots of a tree like a truck on a highway till it comes into contact with other apple tree roots. It infects them and moves to the next victim. The bulk of the damage remains unseen above ground. The roots can no longer pull water to the mass of tree above ground. The tree will not be killed by the pest, just become a vector to infect other trees. Oh yes, and one other thing, the tree no longer bears fruit. In spring the flowers still appear, the bees still pollinate them, they give tremendous signs of promise as small apples form. Then later, in the heat of summer every last fruit aborts. There is nothing more pathetic than seeing so much promise turn to empty, lost dreams of what might have been. Such have been my apples of the last twenty years. Perhaps I should have acted sooner. Each year I would say, next year will be different, maybe this will pass. This is most unfortunate and most unpleasant work.

"See to it that no one misses the grace of God and that no bitter root grows up to cause trouble and defile many" Hebrews 12:15. Are we like trees? Can the root of bitterness we possess spread unseen infecting others? Can that infection be a source of trouble, defilement, or discouragement among others in the family of God? Absolutely. I have seen it firsthand. It is every bit as ugly seeing the orchard of the Lord made unfruitful as my own tiny apple orchard. I think that is the very heart of the warning given us by the author of Hebrews.

"I am the vine and you are the branches. If a man or woman remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; apart from me you can do nothing. If anyone does not remain in me, he is like an unfruitful branch that is thrown away and withers; such unfruitful branches are gathered up, thrown into the fire and burned......" John 15.

I realize there is biblical warrant for what I am about to finish.......but I am still so saddened.

The Lost Art

I love hospitality. There is really nothing quite like it. I have observed this art performed by a number of folks through the years, people from wildly divergent backgrounds and classes, cultures, and economic status. I treasure the bits and pieces I have learned from each friend and try to put into practice what each person has taught me.

One of the first lessons was taught to us by Bill and Maureen R. Sue and I were newly married, Bill was a small business owner and grad student in two disciplines at two universities. They were as poor as church mice, but they were practitioners of two frequently practiced events that enriched their lives. One was tea. One was conversation. My friend Bill had studied and lived at a Christian commune in Switzerland called L'Abri. L'Abri was home to the great Christian thinker Dr. Francis Schaeffer. For the residents of L'Abri the art of tea and discussion was part of the fabric of life. Bill and Maureen integrated the lessons of tea and talk into their hectic California lifestyles, which is in itself quite a bit of work. Their invitations to tea transformed us. They didn't have the resources to entertain in a grand style, but they made totally amazing tea. Murchies in British Columbia is purveyor of fine tea to the queen of England. They also supplied tea to Bill and Maureen of Polk Street, San Diego. It was, and is exquisite tea. It was the tea they always served. Their philosophy was, "we can't afford much, but let's celebrate in a totally over the top way this small part of our life." So, Murchies it was. Not Lipton, not Costco, not even "Constant Comment," but Murchies- purveyor to the queen. We got to know them over the pleasure and warmth of conversation and a pot of really marvellous tea.

The second lesson was taught to me by Bill and Sarah B. Bill was brilliant, trained as an architect, but dabbled in businesses ranging from Almond orchards in the Central Valley, to oil wells in Texas, and oh yes, a little world renown porcelain business in the family for generations. I will never forget the first time I met them. I was referred to them to do some landscape work by one of their friends. We had spoken on the phone a number of times, but had not yet met, until that fateful Saturday.

I pulled up to a hillside estate in Point Loma I can only describe as breathtaking. If you are familiar with the post cards of San Diego that frame the Bay with the Yacht Club in the foreground, and downtown and the mountains in the background- that is their view. From the moment we met they exuded the most gracious, hospitable, and friendly spirit I have yet to encounter. They informed me they were departing for a weekend getaway. Within twenty minutes of meeting me they said " here is the key to the house, we picked up food for you from "Old Trieste," there are snacks in the fridge, we have picked up other things for you as well, the bathroom is down the hall, oh and by the way, you look like you need a cup of coffee." I had done nothing to deserve such gracious and trusting liberality of spirit. I immediately became their dear friend and was showered with their abundant kindness.

What happened next transformed coffee for me. Bill took coffee beans from the refrigerator, put then in a small grinder and held down a button. The only coffee I ever knew was disgusting granules from a jar one would mix with hot water-instant. Yecccchhhhh. The step up was ground from a can. I thought I really became quite a "gourmet" the first time I bought Yuban. Well, within seconds this aromatic, rich, toasty, scent began to flow from the kitchen through the whole house. It was just coffee. What coffee! But I felt like Ponce de Leon that had found the "fountain of youth." I never smelled anything like it before. This was two decades ago. There was no Starbucks, no whole bean coffee at the grocery store. Then we sipped our coffee. My oh my. I had never had coffee like that before. It so affected me, the first thing I spoke about when I arrived home was not the house or the grounds, nor the new friends, nor the other aspects of Bill and Sarah's incredible graciousness, but that coffee. Those kinds of moments freeze time for me. Over coffee with Bill, I told him I was uncomfortable with being given the key to their house and the run of their home. Bill said,"Friends I trust, like and trust you, and a house and its contents- it is just stuff, but friendships, now that is real treasure." Bill is one the reasons I am writing this blog. Twenty-five years ago Bill told me, "you really should write down the things you know, maybe even do a subscription newsletter on gardening." He was ahead of his time. Through the years, we had many lingering cups of french roast at "A la Francaise" before it was cool in America to do that.

I learned hospitality doesn't need to be opulent to be grand. Taking time to chat pays intangible dividends. Enjoy some small bit of something grandiose on occasion. Make someone an esteemed and honored guest in your home, even the plumber or landscaper. Hospitality is commanded by God, who sets the standard of warmth, undeserved love, graciousness, and hospitality. Folks that love God and people should have well worn homes lovingly put into service for others. As my friend Bill said "It's just stuff." Make some coffee or tea and share it with someone. Converse a little. You will be reviving one of the lost arts.

Deep Fried Goodness

What is it about hot oil that makes things taste so good? At least I think they taste good. At the Del Mar Fair each year there is always some new item that has been deep fried. I hear the latest thing to hit the grease was the ignoble twinkie. You can have my twinkie, deep fried or otherwise. I will save the calories for something that actually tastes good.

As a child, fish and chips was one of my favorite comfort foods. Some renditions were so-so. Some were worthy of permanent recollection in childhood's best tastes. There was H.Salt Esquire (o.k), Mr. Fish and Chips (better), and Arthur Treacher's (the best). Who knew that an old English character actor would run such a great "chippie." The reason that fish tastes so good deep fried is that the batter completely seals the piece of fish. Every bit of flavor is encapsulated within the jacket of batter. The fish also retains every bit of moisture.

The English and Irish really do a nice job of fish and chips. Most often, the fish of choice in the chippies (chippers in Ireland) is spiny dogfish, a type of bottom dwelling shark. It is very good. In Ensenada fish taco stands they use "anjelito" or little angel for their fish of choice. This is the angel shark, another type of bottom dwelling shark. They are neither little nor angelic looking. In the UK and Ireland you will also find cod and skate wing. Skate is a type of ray, and is pretty tasty. The down side is the bones which are long and thin and run the length of the wing.

I have wonderful memories of a cold wet January in Ireland with my daughters Allison and Erika. We found two orders of fish and chips made a satisfying and inexpensive meal. There are two famous purveyors of fried fish in Dublin, Beshoff's and Leo Burdock's. Burdock's was founded in 1913 and has been in the same place ever since. Beshoff's near the O'Connell street spire was founded in 1916. Skip Beshoff's altogether. Go to Leo Burdocks. Delicious, full fillets of cod with crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside chips. By the way, do not ask for catsup. And certainly do not ask for tartar sauce. They will give you a hostile glare and point to some nasty packets in a bin. You don't need catsup or tartar sauce. The crispy, steamy, fresh fish and ethereal potatoes are best with a sprinkle of salt and a splash of malt vinegar. The down side to Burdock's is they have no tables, not even a place to stand and eat. Take your paper wrapped comfort food and find a curb or a park bench and chow down. We ate ours on a curb in front of one of the swankiest hotels in Dublin. I think we looked like little tourist urchins eating our peasant food. How rewarding to be a peasant.

I love to make fish and chips at home. At the Sun Street chippie we also cook onions in the batter (from what my guests tell me, the best onion rings ever), also try trimmed whole green onions, and green beans. Yes, you heard correctly. Green beans. Even people that swear they don't like green beans like these. Slices of zucchini, slices of acorn squash, and mushrooms all equally enjoy a battered hot oil spa treatment. Here are a few suggestions that can get you frying in no time.

1) Cook outside. Let me repeat that. Cook outside. The oil goes airborne and will cover every surface in your house. It doesn't wipe off. Do you want a fine coating of oil on your Van Gogh canvas in the living room? The smell will also linger for a week.

2) I use a propane burner outside that will give me sufficient heat. You need to cook at 375 degrees. NO COOLER. Use a candy thermometer if you lack experience.

3) Use a high quality vegetable oil (no canola), or peanut oil. Peanut oil is expensive but good at high temperatures and imparts no other flavors to the food.

4) Cook fries first. They take three to four times longer to cook than the fish. Veggies take about twice as long as fish. In your cooking progression start potatoes first, keep them in the oven on warm while veggies cook, then cook the fish.

5) Use a fresh, good quality white fish. Bass, cod, rock fish, halibut (halibut is insanely good made into chips), or ling cod (another favorite of mine, can be hard to find). Slice it into 1 1/2 inch strips for even coating and cooking.

6) Make a beer batter. Roughly 3 cups of flour. 1/2 tsp baking soda, 1/2 tsp baking powder, 1/2 tsp salt, dash of pepper, and 2/3 bottle of ice cold beer. My own personal favorite is Newcastle Brown Ale. It imparts a malty, rich flavor. The batter takes a little experience to read. Play with it. It should not be to thick. You want the batter light and airy. On the other hand, too thin, and the batter will run off without coating and remaining till being placed in the hot oil. Whisk ingredients together.

7) Buy a spider. Don't get ahead of yourselves bug-haters and arachnophobics. A spider is a cooking tool sold in Asian markets with a wire basket secured to a bamboo handle. The best tool for deep frying, especially if you do not own a "dedicated" single tasker deep fryer.

Go do a little tempura. But please, keep the twinkies out of my hot oil. That is just wrong somehow.

Friends For Lunch

On my Facebook page I commented we were having friends for lunch. My friend Scott retorted back, "do you like your friends sauteed or fried?" I suppose I ought to be more careful with my speech. We had friends over to enjoy lunch, not "we had friends for lunch." Radio commentator Dennis Prager frequently calls attention to the lack of precision in much of our communication. Something to ponder........................

What does one call a meal at two in the afternoon? Late lunch? Early dinner? We know the term for the meal done a little earlier-"brunch." Breakfast lunch. I believe we had "linner." Mexican Caesar salad, chiles rellenos, fresh tortillas, mixed fruit brought by Mike and Tara that included watermelon and cantaloupe from their home garden, lemon verbena agua fresca, and last but certainly not least a proper English trifle (even made in the special pedestaled trifle bowl). I think it was Brian and Hillary's best trifle ever. That is saying quite a lot as I have had some amazing trifles from the Harrison kitchen, but this one topped them all. A serious English trifle is nothing to be trifled with. Sorry, I just couldn't resist. Care to make some of this at home?

Lemon Verbena agua fresca:

I learned this one from my dear friend Mia McCarville, owner of Cedros Gardens in Solana Beach. She always has some creative teas and infusions going on. This is properly an infusion and could not be easier to make. They serve a tea at the duly famous Chez Pannise in Berkeley made from lemon verbena that is always in high demand.

Have you ever smelled lemon verbena (botanical name "aloysia triphylla")? If you have I am sure you have never forgotten the experience. It is a very easily grown herb hardy to zone 9. Originally from South America, it has been grown in Europe since the 16th century. It isn't grown because it is a garden stunner. It won't win any competitions for its looks. It doesn't need to. The smell is all it needs to win a place in your garden. The fragrance is hard to describe. First, it comes across fresh and clean. That is about the only way I can put it. Fresh, clean. And of course there is a scent reminiscent of lemons. Lemons yes, but more than citrus. Hints of spearamint, or yerba buena. Sue thinks it is slightly evocative of sage. It is a delicious perfume.

To make 1 gallon of Lemon Verbena water:

1 gallon purified or other good quality water (if you have tasted San Diego tap water, you understand why I make this distinction)

2 cups lemon verbena leaves stemmed and chopped into roughly 1/2 pieces

Allow leaves to infuse into the water for about three hours for best taste.

It is not necessary to "sun brew" this. Strain and serve cold. You may add a bit of simple syrup if you like your tea sweet, but it is really quite unnecessary. It is delicious as is.

This drink goes so well with Mexican or spicy food. Before summer is over, have some on a hot, humid day. You will be astounded at how refreshing this beverage is. I am grabbing a glass and heading for the hammock.

The Simple Things

One of the greatest joys of gardening is the ability to produce something extremely simple but so profoundly exquisite it can not be had anywhere at any price. That is the report from the garden this week. I want to share with you 4 items that may seem lowly and common, but that soar to stratospheric heights of flavor. Heights unattainable despite years of culinary training. These sublime moments of flavor met each other in one solitary week. And God was the chef. I want to talk about corn, pluots, oranges, and figs.

It has been a good week here at Papa John's Farm. That is Christiana's name for our little place.

Sweet Corn:
Sunday evening I brought corn on the cob to church for pot luck. Small ears, only a scant five inches long. Yellow and white bi-color. Extra sugar gene for sugar enhanced sweetness. If you enjoyed one, you know what I am talking about. One hour from field to table. The sweetest, most tender corn I have ever eaten. No one put butter or salt on their corn. It was beyond perfect as it was. If you want to try this for next year plant a short day variety. For San Diego it should be 65 days or less.

Oranges:
We brought oranges to a birthday party as our food contribution. What Oranges!!!!!Midnight, sweet seedless Valencia orange. The color of this orange is a deep, reddish orange, maybe three shades darker than any other Valencia I have seen. No Seeds! Did you hear that? No Seeds. Extremely rare for a Valencia. Very floral overtones, extremely sweet, intense Spanish orange scent. So juicy you will need paper towels around to prepare the fruit for the table. This tree was nearly killed in a tree felling incident two years ago. I am so glad it survived; there is no comparable orange I have ever discovered.

Pluots:
Three years ago we planted six pluot trees in my Father's yard. He is becoming quite the fruit orchardist now. If you have never had a pluot from a home orchard make friends with someone who has some. Better yet, go buy a couple of trees. Pluots are 2/3 plum and 1/3 apricot in their breeding. Huge, incredibly colored fruit, in many shapes and sizes. The thing I love is the complexity of flavor. Tart skin with sweet flesh that is almost too sweet. Lots of floral notes. Rich musky undertones on some. You really can't describe the flavor. Just get your hands on some.

Figs:
The best for last. Our first figs of the season ripened today. When Adam and Eve sinned in the Garden fig leaves became the first clothing in history. At the British Museum, artful fig leaves were always at arms length to provide "cover" for art pieces should ladies be present in Victorian times. In biblical times figs provided shade as well as fruit. Figs were used fresh, dried, and made into cakes. In fact they were a staple in the Hebrew diet. Fig trees were so prized that they became symbols of peace and prosperity. God told Moses that in Canaan each man would be under his own vine and under his own fig tree. A fig tree became a symbol of God's care and provision. A fig tree was more than a mere plant in the garden. It was a an arboreal gift from YHWH. Today we picked our first Tuscan Strawberry fig and a few large, plump, amber colored honey figs. Bonaventura and Mary Lane respectively. These trees are perhaps more cherished by me due to their scarcity. Impossible to find at any price. Three years ago there were four available all year: one for me, one for my brother Chris' birthday, and two for Tom and Kay Chino at world famous Chino Farms. That is scarcity. I am still looking for one for my mother. I am afraid if you want one, you must go the very end of the line.

For dinner: Mary Lane figs drizzled with a little barrel aged balsamic vinegar paired with a Devonshire farm cheese with dried cranberries from England that I have been aging since last December. Such simplicity, but the combination of the cheese, the balsamic, and the figs is ten times more than the mere sum of their parts. Delightful.

God of Heaven and Earth, thank you, that I may sit under my own vine and under my own fig tree. Thank you for the loved ones in my life with whom I can share such sublimely simple delights.

Some weeks in the garden are like this, but not many. Not many at all.

Cioppino: What a Noble Use for Those Tomatoes

On Thursday I wrote about the beauty of perfect tomatoes. I was shopping at my local market yesterday and looked at what passes for tomatoes for non-gardeners. I do not mean to take an elitist stance here toward people that buy their tomatoes. Rather, I am sad for them. What mealy, tough, thick skinned, unripened plastic spheres they must suffer with. To have the luxury of using fresh, ripe tomatoes from the garden for pedestrian use such as spaghetti sauce or in this recipe's case-cioppino, what a delightful decadence. I almost feel guilty. I said "almost."

I have a confession to make. For all cooking other than baking I never use any recipe. I'll explain sometime why using a recipe in baking IS supremely important, but not today. The difficulty comes when I have prepared something people enjoy and they ask for the "recipe." I'm certain that request is met by some dumb looks on my part. I just go into the kitchen and create. So..........therefore it is sometimes tough to translate a dish to the language of a recipe. Does that make sense?

Cioppino, I start with a large stock pot. I saute 1 large sweet Maui onion along with 6-7 pressed garlic cloves in 2 tbsps good quality olive oil. After the onions and garlic are translucent I add 1 cup Marsala wine, 1/2 c Grahams port, 1 c Chardonnay wine, reduce by about a third. I then filled a standard size stock pot (10"w x 7"h) to 51/2 " with assorted tomatoes. And I do mean assorted. Each brings distinct color and flavor, so I like the variety. Cook on very low heat for 4-5 hours. Put it in the fridge covered overnight.

Have you noticed that Lasagna, spaghetti sauce and many other tomato dishes taste better the next day. A recent article in Bon Apetit explained the chemistry and affirmed the urban legend. It does taste better the next day because of the marriage and interaction of all the flavors. So......put your dish in the fridge overnight.

The next day, press all the contents through a food mill. Discard the skins and seeds. Add 1 quart + 1 cup chicken stock to the stock pot and reduce by 25%. Now add some salt and pepper to taste. Add your favorite herbs. I used about 2 T fresh basil, maybe a little more. 1 T fresh English thyme, 1 T fresh lime thyme, 1 T fresh parsley, 1 T fresh summer savory. Do the herbs according to your own taste. Toward the end add, 6 oz. heavy cream.

Last step: SEAFOOD. That is the highlight of this dish. I added 1 1/2 cubed halibut, 1 pound Mexican white shrimp, 1 pound medium scallops, 1 pound cleaned calamari, 1/2 pound cleaned small octopus, 1/2 pound small bay shrimp, and 1/2 pound mussels. I wish I had added more mussels. They totally make the dish. Just before adding the seafood heat the soup base to very high simmer. Next, add the thawed seafood. DO NOT OVERCOOK. The seafood should cook in less than five minutes. Turn off the heat. Heat some really good bread and buckle your seat belts.

This is an extravagant, expensive, and time consuming dish. Invite some friends over that mean a lot to your life and share it with them. Show them you care for and love them by serving them this dish. I may do this only once a year. Celebrate and enjoy the feast!

For a wine. I will throw you a ringer. Serve ice cold sparkling red sweet wine or "soft red" Lambrusco. Trader Joe's has nice ones imported from Italy for around $5.00. It goes so well with the cioppino.

What music for the meal? A little Beppe Gambetta instrumental or some Andrea Boccelli. A trip to the Amalfi coast for less than $50.00. Mangia!!