When Life Hands You Green Tomatoes...

...don't make lemonade. Seriously, it'll taste terrible. You can, however, whip up a pretty good Green Tomato Soup with them.

As I mentioned last week, the farm got hit with late blight, and the only tomatoes that could be saved were the green ones. I'm not a green tomato expert, but I'm definitely not one to shy away from trying to use a new ingredient, and wouldn't you know it, the New York Times had a nice recipe for green tomato soup in its dining section. Perfect!

Being me, I messed with it a little. I threw in a red bell pepper I found getting pruny in my vegetable drawer and substituted plain nonfat yogurt for the creme fraiche in the recipe. Neither change rendered the soup inedible--in fact, it was quite delicious, and a great way to use up some of the unripened tomatoes we're picking ahead of the first frost. The soup's good both hot and cold--on a busy night, you can come home, throw a salad together, spoon up some of the soup (which is actually surprisingly filling and satisfying), and have yourself a nice 10-minute dinner. My favorite kind!

Green Tomato Soup
Adapted from a recipe on the New York Times website


2T unsalted butter
1/2 medium onion, diced
1 red bell pepper, diced (optional)
1/2 tsp whole coriander seeds
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
4 cups green tomatoes, cored and chopped
1 cup chicken or vegetable stock
salt and pepper to taste
8 tsp plain yogurt (optional)
1T chopped fresh dill
1/2 tsp honey

Melt the butter in a soup pot over medium-high heat. Add onions and bell pepper and cook, stirring occasionally, until onions are translucent (3-5 minutes)

While that's cooking, lightly crush the coriander with a mortar and pestle or the side of a knife. Add it to the pot with the garlic and saute for another 2-3 minutes

Add the tomatoes, stock, salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to medium-low and simmer until the tomatoes have broken down, about 30 minutes. Feel free to watch an episode of Modern Family while you wait: I hear it's pretty funny.

Using an immersion or standard blender, pulverize the soup until it's nice and smooth

Return the soup to medium heat and add the optional yogurt, dill, and honey. Cook until heated through. Taste and adjust seasonings.

I thought the soup was fine on its own, but the original recipe calls for brioche croutons and bacon sprinkled over the top, so feel free to go nuts. I mean, what isn't improved by adding bacon?

Happy cooking, everyone!

Cheers to the birthday boy!

Well, it was a busy weekend chez nous. A's birthday (his 30th!) was last week, so I suggested a party to celebrate the milestone. Apparently, and I didn't find out about this until later, this was the first time anyone's ever thrown him a birthday party. I'm happy to report that it went pretty well and the birthday boy seemed to have a pretty good time.

Now, when we throw a party, I tend to go a little crazy with all the cooking, and this time was no exception. We had sliders (turkey and veggie), caprese skewers, grilled sausage with peaches and sage, heirloom tomato salsa, pesto potato salad, pecan pie (he is a southern boy after all!) and a carrot cake--A's favorite. I'm indebted to the Joy of Cooking for providing the last two recipes, and Chowhound for the recipe for the delicious and adorable little slider buns. To accompany the feast, we whipped up our Earl Grey MarTEAnis and a pitcher of mojitos. For once, the weather was on our side, which was good, because it's not much fun to run in the rain.

Yes, that's right, run. After a couple hours, we dragged everyone out back for the first ever Martini Relay, inspired by the Chap Olympics that recently took place in London. The rules were simple: our friends divided up into two teams, mixed a martini,  and then carried it on a plate (no holding!) switching off on every lap with a teammate until everyone had run. The last people had to drink the martini, and whichever team finished first won, naturally. To even up the teams, I sat out the first round, but on round two, A and I were pressed into service. My team was doing pretty well until it got to A and I. I was well ahead by the time A got his tray, but he booked it, crossing the finish line and downing what turned out to be a terrible gimlet (we ran out of vermouth after round one) in record time. I made a game attempt, but I was just no match. Still, fun times!

Blighted

Well, the organic farm has thrown in the towel with the tomatoes this year.

When I went yesterday, I was told that sauce and cherry tomatoes were now "gleaning" crops, meaning I could help myself to as many usable ones as I could find. Quality was poor because they'd been hit by late blight.

Boy, had they ever. Under a gray, drippy sky I wandered the rows of dessicated plants sporting rotted out fruit that somehow still clung to the vine, although it dropped off the second you touched it, splotching the ground beneath it. The few baby tomatoes somehow still managing to sprout don't stand a chance.

Someone told me that this is the same strain of blight that caused the Irish Potato Famine in the 1840's. We still haven't figured out what causes it or what to do about it. And walking the fields yesterday, I could get a very, very tiny measure of what it must have been like to go out to your farm in the morning and see your previously healthy plants reduced to this. Very disheartening.

Still, there is a bit of a silver lining. At least tomatoes can be eaten underripe, unlike potatoes. Circumstances like this tend to make you think differently about how you use your produce. Serendipitously, the New York Times ran a recipe yesterday for Green Tomato Soup. Keeping that in mind, I pulled some good-sized green tomatoes off the vines so I can give it a try. The weather's turned rainy and chilly very suddenly out here, perfect weather for soup. I know you can also can and fry green tomatoes, but what else? Any suggestions? I'm wide open to them!

Birthday Burgers

A. had very different food tastes when we first met. As a compulsive gym rat and former competitive weightlifter, his main focus was low fat, high protein. So, he thought canned tuna and a protein shake were perfectly acceptable meals. And then I came along and ruined it. He can't even look at canned tuna anymore, although the protein shakes do reappear every now and then.

I'll admit to being a bit of a gym junkie myself, and I'm all for the high-protein-low-fat diet, so one of the things I introduced A. to early on was the HPLF version of the traditional burger: the turkey burger. Much healthier. And, over the years, I've played with and tweaked the recipe quite a bit, depending on what I have in my fridge. The harissa I picked up in London has been a staple all summer, and I've started adding a hint of chili powder to give the burgers a slight kick at the end. The burgers I made last night, I have to admit, were pretty damn good, which is especially good, because they were the burgers A. specially requested for his birthday. I think it's a recipe I'll keep.

Birthday Burgers

1 lb ground turkey
1/2 onion, diced
1 tsp harissa
1/2 tsp chili powder
salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients in a bowl and mix well. Divide into four pieces. Take each piece and form into a ball. Toss the ball between your hands to really bring the meat together (an old trick I learned from my great aunt when making meatballs. Her meatballs never crumbled in the sauce). Pat each ball down into a patty. Grill until cooked through.

We usually serve these on whole wheat buns with sriracha or, as we did last night, horseradish mustard from our local Amish market. Feel free to pile on the toppings of your choice, anything goes!

Dinner in the Field

Fall is almost here--It's almost palpable. Corny as it sounds, I could feel it in the air when I stepped outside yesterday afternoon. Although it was 80+ degrees, there was the tiniest edge to the air; a slight tang. It'll be here soon enough, and boy, does that make me happy. I love fall. Especially fall in my little corner of the world. Walkable historic towns with Victorian architecture lend themselves beautifully to fall foliage, as do the views of the Delaware River from the New Hope-Lambertville bridge.

On Sunday, A. and I had a pretty unique opportunity to celebrate the coming of the new season: a harvest dinner in the fields at Dreyer Farms in Cranford (another picturesque little town). The dinner was catered by the chef of Boulevard Five72, using produce from the farm. This one dinner was the best possible commercial for both the farm and the restaurant. It's too bad both are more than an hour from where I live, or I'd be there all the time. Then again, for the sake of my bank account, maybe that's a good thing.

First off, the weather actually cooperated, after several days of rain, cold, and gloomy skies. The sun came out, and the temperature went up to the 80's, which meant the sangria served during the cocktail hour were doubly refreshing. Ditto the champagne, which I really can't resist. Passed hors d'oeuvres included smoked salmon tartlets, wonderful polenta cakes with ratatouille (the polenta was perfect--crispy outside, and moist within. My hat is off to them), and sublime tempura-battered green beans. I really, really want to track down a recipe for those and make them for A's birthday party this week.

As the sun set and the mosquitos mercifully stayed away, we moved to the long table that had been set up between rows of basil and salad greens. By chance, I found myself sitting in the midst of the Dreyer family, who have farmed this same plot of land since 1904. Paterfamilias Henry Dreyer, who sat across from me, was a great dinner companion, and we chattered away through all four courses, covering everything from tomato blight to what to do on a visit to Quebec City.

Like the hors d'oeuvres, the main meal didn't disappoint. We moved from a lovely light salad to a prawn served on heirloom tomatoes and watermelon, followed by veal with sweet potato puree and an almond tart with Jersey peaches for dessert. Not a single thing disappointed, and the flavors were lovely. And so were the wines served with each course. Maybe the wines were too good--I did wake up with the slightest headache on Monday morning. Still, definitely worth it. Now, I'm off to try and find that green bean recipe. Wish me luck!

Jersey Fresh Cocktails

Food-wise, I have to say, this past weekend was a good one in our house. And it started, brilliantly, with some excellent cocktails A. and I whipped up on Friday evening to toast the start of the three-day weekend.

I came home from the farm last week with some lovely blackberries, which A. is addicted to. As it turns out, if you like your cocktails tart rather than sweet, a blackberry is a great fruit for it. A. had already made one prototype of a blackberry martini by the time I got home from the grocery store and Asian market, laden with goodies (including the superb clams that became our dinner). His first attempt, while good, was a work in progress. I suggested adding a hint of lime, which I thought would pair nicely with the blackberry flavor. Incidentally, we also had an insane number of limes we had to use up. So, we juiced one, mixed it up, and tried again. Not bad, but now a little too tart, even for me. A little simple syrup set that right, and we had an excellent cocktail.

As he headed out to grill up dinner, leaving me with little more to do in the kitchen than sip my yummy  new drink, A. asked me to mix him a cocktail and to "surprise him". Never one to disappoint, I dove into the fridge and came out with a pint of blueberries from the Asian market and some seltzer water. There were mint leaves soaking in a small jar on the kitchen counter (another contribution from the farm) and some white rum on hand, so I thought I'd give a blueberry mojito a try. A. tried it and pronounced it a success. Both drinks have now joined the Earl Grey MarTEAni in our drinks recipe file.

Blackberry-Lime Martini
5-6 large, ripe blackberries
1 1/2-2 oz vodka
juice of 1/2 lime
1-2 T simple syrup (depending on how tart you want this)

Smash blackberries with a muddler or mortar and pestle. Add smashed berries, vodka, lime juice, simple syrup, and ice cubes to a cocktail shaker.

Shake vigorously for 15 seconds. Strain into a martini glass.

Blueberry Mojito
1/4 cup ripe blueberries
1 1/2-2 oz white rum
1 tsp sugar
6-10 mint leaves
Seltzer water
Ice cubes

Place blueberries, sugar, mint leaves in a highball glass and muddle until the leaves are broken down, the blueberries are juiced, and everything's mixed together (we found that the end of a wooden rolling pin works great for this).  Add ice cubes and rum. Top with seltzer and mix everything together briefly.

Garnish with a mint leaf and enjoy!

Perfect Polenta

One of the things I like most about belonging to our CSA farm is that it essentially forces me to cook according to what's really in season, the way people used to. I'm a history buff, so I enjoy that and occasionally pretend I'm Laura Ingalls Wilder, tramping through the fields to get dinner. It also makes you use your imagination. You have no idea how many different things you can do with a tomato until you have three pounds of heirlooms, plus a pound and a half of cherry tomatoes on your hands.

Last night, I put those tomatoes to good work in a dish that would have made my Italian forbears proud: spicy tomatoes with shrimp and mussels, served over homemade polenta.

Polenta's a wonderful thing, and it's incredibly easy to make, which makes me wonder why the heck I ever spent upwards of $4 on the ready made stuff when I could have just bought $2 worth of cornmeal and made about 20 times as much of it at home. Like pasta, it's versatile and can be served as a side dish on its own, mixed or sprinkled with cheese or jalapenos to give it a kick, or covered with some kind of sauce, like we did last night. You can have it soft, like grits, or let it harden and slice it up to toss on the grill or in a pan. This also makes me feel Laura Ingalls Wilder-ish--what we call polenta she called Cornmeal Mush in her books. I think polenta sounds nicer.

Polenta A La Bree

1/2 onion

1 cup cornmeal (course ground works best)

Olive oil

salt and pepper

1. Saute the onion in the olive oil until it just turns translucent and starts to release its flavor, about 5 minutes. Set aside to cool slightly.

2. In a large saucepan, stir together 1 cup of water, the cornmeal, and 1 tsp. salt. Add the cooled onion. Stirring constantly, add 2 cups boiling water.

3. Turn on the burner under the saucepan to medium heat. Cook the polenta, stirring constantly, until it's thickened and comes away from the sides of the saucepan. Taste and season.

**If you like, you can fold in some parmesan or pecorino romano cheese, or sprinkle the cheese of your choice over the top of the warm polenta. Serve warm immediately, or spread in a greased brownie pan and let cool. Cut into slices and grill or saute.