I thought this summer’s rain would kill my little herb garden, but the opposite happened. Everything I planted is thriving—lush, green growth. My kitchen was stocked with fresh, tasty herbs; there were no limits to what I could do. I fertilized, and the weeds grew more than ever; awful irony. I grew beans to replenish the soil. They were abundant, fantastic just as they were, boiled, cut on the bias, with a bit of salt, water and butter. No need to improve on nature. Zucchini has finally appeared after years of failed attempts. Can you imagine how good a fresh vegetable can taste when you’ve just pulled it from your own garden? Simple and perfect. I’ve been determined to leave well enough alone, and abandon the fancy stuff. That’s my way this summer. Let me tell you about some dishes I had this year.
Eggplants and Tomatoes My friend Andy, an excellent cook, grew up in Morocco. One of his native dishes people always beg for is EGGPLANT AND TOMATO. It’s exotic; you have got to try this. Peel two large, shiny eggplants, no scars, or soft spots. They should feel heavy. Discard the peel. Cut the eggplant into very small cubes, any way you’re used to doing. Place them in cold water until you’re done. Now, crush four big cloves of garlic and fry them in olive oil on a low flame with a pinch of red chili flakes. Set the cooked garlic aside. Put the eggplant cubes into a pot and barely cover with water. Bring to a slow boil, being sure to stir the eggplant from the bottom so it all cooks evenly. This is a good time for your wooden spoon. When it gets soft, thoroughly drain the water from the eggplant. Add it to the garlic and oil. The rest of the cooking will involve you stirring constantly, or almost so, to keep things moving, mashing, evaporating, and evenly cooking. You want to end up with a mashed puree. Add paprika, black pepper, a thumb sized piece of ginger, crushed, 2 tsp. freshly ground cumin, 1 TB ground turmeric, a small handful of finely chopped parsley, flat leaf of course and half a can of tomato paste. A note on seasoning: Go easy. This is about the eggplant. Don’t let the garlic, or anything else, overpower the taste of the eggplant. The eggplant will be savory, but it ought to have a mild bit of fire in the finish. It’s up to you on how much. Continue to mash constantly, this time with a fork. Ten minutes later much of the water should be evaporated. If it has become thick, you can now add the rest of the can of tomato paste. Keep mixing, mashing, and lower the fire to almost invisible. Remove from heat, set aside, let it come to room temperature. Eaten cold the next day, it is mind-blowing. Room temp is excellent also. Before serving, add a hefty squeeze of fresh lemon juice.
Wings á la Françaises I decided to do BBQ chicken wings, but not the usual way with a boring ketchup sauce treatment. I remembered the way we did it in Southern France. We bought loads and loads of wings, washed them in cold water and cut them into three pieces. This was a group effort. The tips we saved for the crab trap. I spread the wings on my cutting board, the best place to do the work without a bowl. Rami went to the garden and brought in handfuls of, rosemary, thyme, oregano, sage, peppermint, parsley that I finely, finely chopped. I fine-chopped some lemon zest into some salt and the herbs—orange zest, black pepper, paprika, added olive oil, and at least ten cloves of chopped, crushed garlic. I spread the herb mixture over the wings, and tossed them to distribute the flavors. I wanted to wait at least an hour, but it was getting late. Translation: we were starving, and I was in trouble. Fast forward: We arranged all the wings on a sheet pan with a splash of smoke seasoning. We loosely covered them with a foil tent. We baked them at 350 for half an hour, and then longer with the tent off, and turned over. The BBQ grill was by now hot and ready, so we placed the wings on the grate. I dumped the wings onto a huge serving platter with a bowl on the table to catch the bones. There was gorgeous, priceless favor in the sheet pan. I’d never let myself toss away those drippings. I poured off most of the fat, stirred in some honey, a tablespoon of frozen [orange juice] concentrate, and some fresh lime and lemon juice. I cooked enough for ten people, but the six of us made them disappear.
The Joy of Cavaillons Marta Huante-Robles, my host last year in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, introduced me to the way the locals eat. For this foodie, it was a slice of heaven. Who needs to go abroad to eat what they imagine Americans like? Mexico is the source of some incredible, unexpected cuisine. Marta is wonderfully innovative, and creates dishes like Marta's Melon Pasta Salad. Get hold of the most fragrant, sweet melon you can get your hands on. If we were in France, I'd say a cavaillon. To me they are the most perfect melons on planet Earth, yet they grow in the most arid, desolate looking terrain imaginable. I was driving from Aix [en Provence] on my way to Florence, and took the well known short cut through Cavaillon. I knew about these beautiful melons, but never had the luck to eat one. A small sign at the side of the road announced, "CAVAILON: MELONS A VENDRE." They are smaller than a cantaloupe with a brilliant orange flesh and smooth pale yellow-green skin with greenish ribs and an aroma so intoxicating people have been known to pull over while driving through the melon fields in France! I made one of those heart stopping, “French Connection” U-turns, and pulled alongside a small dust covered stand. In spite of the bright midday sun blinding my eyes, in the dim, gray rear of the stand, I spotted a basket of the beauties I so coveted. Their perfume had already enraptured me; I was in the presence of a legend. The human sense of smell is capable of recalling the most detailed memories, it's true. These melons were already making their permanent stamp in my brain. The owner of the property, straw hat, faded blue overalls, tall, topaz blue eyes, moving slowly, skin weathered from the relentless sun, sauntered over. I negotiated for four melons, which I placed on my back seat. They made wonderful gifts for the people I met in Italy. Delicious musk melons are available locally; their fragrance from underneath tells you when they are ripe. Slice a ripe musk melon into long strips with a veggie peeler. We are trying to replicate a noodle with the melon slices. Into the same bowl, add sliced strawberries, blues, ripe peaches, and balls of more melon. Dress with truffle and olive oil, ground pepper, a pinch of red chili flakes and a teeny pinch of tarragon. Wine with this might be a chilled, fragrant, Muscat de Beaumes de Venise. The wine tastes and smells like honey. Go for it. fireislandcooks.blogspot.com
