Wednesday at the Barn

Chimichurri

Last week's blog about the ease of throwing together a snack instead of just buying one got me thinking about all the other store-bought shortcuts we take that aren’t as satisfying as they could be ~ and don’t really save us time or money. Chimichurri is a great example of a wonderful, easy to make condiment that simply does not taste as good when you don’t make it fresh.

Ryan’s definition strays from the classic Argentine version which traditionally has garlic and parsley, but if anything he expands the spirit of the sauce with gentle heat and great green notes. For a Chimichurri we threw together in a few minutes for staff meal this week Chef used cilantro, mint, chervil, chives and parsley.  Almost any fresh herb will do ~ what's delicious about the sauce is the combination of the selected herbs, a pickling compound with something in it to spark the heat, and Virgin Olive Oil. 

Ryan’s definition strays from the classic Argentine version which traditionally has garlic and parsley, but if anything he expands the spirit of the sauce with gentle heat and great green notes. For a Chimichurri we threw together in a few minutes for staff meal this week Chef used cilantro, mint, chervil, chives and parsley.  Almost any fresh herb will do ~ what's delicious about the sauce is the combination of the selected herbs, a pickling compound with something in it to spark the heat, and Virgin Olive Oil. 

We used pickled Fresno chilies and red pearl onions, which Chef always seems to have on hand. When it comes to the brine, unless you are longing for a signature pickle, equal parts Champagne vinegar and sugar will get you where you want to go, deliciously, in record time. The only things you need pay attention to for a fail-proof chimichurri is using a good quality VOO and remembering to cut ingredients into equal size. It may take an extra minute or two but trust me on this ~ cut them ridiculously small and uniform. You can pickle almost any raw ingredient this way in as little as 30 minutes....and it will keep all week. Always chop and add the herbs and oil just before serving.

Chicken, fish, especially grilled steak ~ there is almost no protein that doesn't love a freshly made chimichurri.

Get out those knives.

 

 

All text Jil Hales. Photos © Jil Hales

Wednesday at the Barn.......Primal Brain Food......Ginger and Pierre's Wedding...

Dish of the Week

Crispy Ballantine of Marrow & Pan Roasted Scallop

 Summer Corn, Micro Greens & Basil Coulis

Long before we were hunters, we were foragers eating what scraps of meat we could scavenge off fallen prey after the apex predators with full stomachs had moved on. No one knows where the impulse to raise a stone and break the bones of those animals to get to the nutrient rich marrow inside came from, but the fat gleaned from them helped us survive the early winters of our civilization. Many scientists believe the fat-soluble vitamins found in those bones, and the interior columns of marrow, were crucial to hominids developing larger brains.

With the invention of weapons we moved on, to whole animals and choice cuts of meat, but marrow never disappeared from the playing field of cuisine. Every country has classic recipes using it ~ to thicken soups, as a base for sauces, to inspire pasta fillings, or just slathered on bread instead of butter. When served on its own, you usually get the roasted bone with a scoop, a tradition for which we have Louis XV to thank. But whether you eat it off an elegant silver spoon in Monaco (at Alain Ducasse’ Louis XV) or chow down in East London with a platter overflowing with bones in a sea of parsley (at Fergus Henderson's St. John), marrow is delicious. There are some things you put in your mouth ~ oysters and foie gras come to mind ~  when sensation precedes all thought and taste. The flavor of marrow is fragrant and meaty but secondary to its texture, which is incredibly light. It’s fat, yes, but fat with attitude.

When served as an entrée marrow is usually paired with red meat, the classic ‘whole animal’ connection. Makes sense, but ultimately, a bit limiting. After a few bites, with nothing for the rich flavors to play against, umami on umami cancel each other out.

Ryan has found a way around this conundrum by creating a dish that features marrow as a luxurious condiment in a main course. It’s an inspired pairing with scallops that results in a frisson similar to the one you get with Chorizo and Clams ~ disparate ingredients that compliment each other, but ultimately stand alone.

While this week’s DOW is probably not a ‘try this at home dish,’ if you want to cook marrow out of the bone all you need do is soak the bones first in ice water. This will pull any remaining blood out (even yellow marrow will have some), while time in icy water chills the fat making it oh so easy to slide out of the bone. Drew rolls the marrow in sifted flour before sautéing in grape oil and finishing with Maldon salt. Timing is crucial. You need just enough heat to warm the marrow through, stopping just short of its melting point. Drew, always admirably stoic even when facing a full incoming board of orders, handily coordinates a perfect scallop with the perfectly cooked marrow, but it could be nerve wracking for a lesser chef.

This isn’t a straight up surf and turf attraction, but something far more subtle. Ryan's is a very modern presentation which explores marrowfat’s incredible lightness of being, taking it out of the context of the bone altogether. Visually, on its own, marrow is but a white plug of fat, so Chef surrounds it with color ~ a single gorgeously golden pan roasted scallop with late summer corn and a vibrant basil coulis. The dish is finished with a conga line of pungent micro greens with just enough punch in the Russian Kale and Bull’s Blood to refresh the palate.

Reading up on marrow I came across a highly entertaining blog called Mark’s Daily Apple written by a body builder with a discernible jones for primal brain food. No silver spoon for this guy ~ according to Mark Sisson “paleo reenactment is the only justifiable course of action,” when eating marrow.  Just have at it, he says, like our ancestors used to. He (and Fergus) have a point, but when it comes to the evolution of this remarkable ingredient,  I think I’ll stick with Ryan.

Best of the Blogs this Week...

No one would argue that Barndiva isn't extremely photogenic, but though we see ourselves frequently in food and weddings blogs we rarely link you to them. Mea Culpa. My extremely talented goddaughter Zem Joquin (ecofabulous.com), no slouch when it comes to all things 'virtual,' implores me to remember the internet is all about SHARING. And hey, it's ok to blow your own horn. I know she’s right, but I fear I come from another time and place. Chef and I have wanted to keep the blog ‘clean’ looking and ad free, with original copy and images every week that aren't just re-posted. But I'm coming around to see that for those of us dedicated to DO EPIC SHIT (more on this next week) we are stronger in numbers.

So here are two blogs that came across the desktop this week I really admired. The first is the beautiful wedding album of Ginger and Pierre, shot by Traci Griffin. By any accounts, this is a pretty stunning couple. But it’s the warmth of these images, which flowed from the wedding couple and every one of their family and friends on the day that makes this album so special. These guys are from New Orleans, so they started with a surfeit of soul, but Traci captured all the sweet details that made this wedding remarkable. The couple even skipped out during the salad course to quickly shoot the fading sunlight of their wedding day in random vineyards and fields around Healdsburg. (It was nice to see Hotel Les Mars in the early shots, and Dragonfly's florals, which captured the casual elegance of the day.)

Amber got an email this week from the newlyweds, back in the Big Easy, bailing out water from Hurricane Issac, still high from their nuptials. No worries: these guys can float.

The second link is to a personal blog by a couple who travels to ride their bikes, eat and drink wine. Lots of it. Not a day goes by I don’t walk through the dining room and see someone lifting a cell phone to take a snap of their meal, and while I think visual diaries are fun (in small doses), rarely do I see blogs as tight as the one Katie posted about her and Whit's trip to Sonoma on her blog,  Is There Any Wine Left?. Was it laudatory? You bet. Would I have posted it if it weren’t? Probably not, but I sleep better knowing there are bloggers out there who put real time and effort into relaying their lives to friends, especially when what we do is involved. There is so much crap on the internet. And while we’re long past the point of thinking every image taken steals our souls (if true, then we have none), I still believe when you come into someone else's house and take an image away, you should try and make it a good one. Katie can write, as well.

Eat the View!

All text Jil Hales. All photos Jil Hales (unless otherwise noted.)

Wednesday at the Barn Menu.....Bernier Garlic!

Dish of the Week

Bernier Farms Garlic Chips with Frog Hollow Peaches, Crispy Polenta & Prosciutto Wrapped Asparagus Tips

While I am sure there are chefs who manage it, I can’t envision a food life that didn’t rely heavily on the genus allium ~ onions, shallots, leeks, chives, scallions, ramps ~ and somewhere at the top of the heap, the mighty garlic. Garlic is beautiful, its aroma dead sexy when it hits the pan, but with flavor both intriguing and willful, it can quickly overwhelm a dish if you don’t learn how to dance with it.

The usual fall back for home cooks if not using it raw in a pesto is to sauté it, which lends a nice bitterness that is especially compatible to dishes that also boast bright acidity (think Mediterranean). But sautéing doesn’t let you explore the surprising nuances you can get from Allium sativum, which can range from sweet to floral should you poach, dehydrate, pickle or confit it. The secret to extending its flavor bandwidth is to use a preparation that circumvents the breakdown of sulphur which sleeps in the plant's cells, waking with a vengeance when you lift your knife to crush or chop it. It’s the sulphur that gives you garlic breath (and sometimes heartburn) but it’s there for a good reason ~ as a highly effective defense against birds and animals eating the bulbs as they grow.

Our garlic chips don’t shout garlic, they are so light and delicate they melt in the mouth before most diners even register what they are.  Takes a bit of work to make them, but boy, are they wonderful.

Good sized cloves like the ones you can find at the Bernier stand at the Healdsburg Farmer's Market (see below) are peeled and sliced on the mandolin until they are semi- transparent. Then we poach them slowly in milk ~ three times. Each successive poaching leaches out more of the sulphur. The final step is to deep fry them in a skillet with enough room so they don’t stick together. A furious bubbling cauldron will ensue when they first hit the heat (250°-300°) as the last bit of  moisture is expelled from the softened milky slices, but it quickly subsides as the chips turn a burnished chanterelle gold. Drained on paper, finished with Maldon salt, they have a sweet nutty crunch that sends them to the pantheon of condiments. Stored in an airtight container, they will even keep for days. Happily, ours don't last that long.

For the next few weeks you can savor Ryan's garlic chips discreetly paired with Frog Hollow peaches on crispy polenta alongside a few tips of prosciutto wrapped asparagus ~ part of a gratifying pork entrée ~ but you may also order them off the menu as a starter, as shown here on a swath of basil coulis. Take note however: this incandescent pairing with peaches won’t be around much longer as the menu moves from the stone fruits of early summer into the heart of August.

Yael Bernier's 15 shades of garlic...

The undisputed queen of garlic in Healdsburg is Yael Bernier ~  an opinion I'm confident is shared by the thousands of fans that flock to her stand at the Healdsburg Farmer's Market each summer.

Last week I was lucky to be invited out to the barn where she dries her covetable bulbs, spending a delirious two hours in a fine de siècle light that put me in mind of Robert Altman's under appreciated masterpiece, McCabe & Mrs. Miller. I forgot my tripod so these images don't do justice to what I saw ~ except for a few shards of sunlight that managed to break through the cracks in the barn wall, it was pretty dark in there. As the temperature broke 100° outside a fine dry dust permeated the air, redolent of soil and warm wood, a hint of eau de diesel. Barns have a certain magical energy when they've been used for root storage over the years.

Yael, who farms with her son Zureal and husband Paul in several locations in the Dry Creek and Alexander Valleys, grows 15 varieties (she also sells as seed), five of which were drying on that day: Northern Italian Red, Italian Red Rocambole, Spanish Roja, China Stripe and Siberian. They don't come cheap ~ from $1.50 - $2 a head ~ but they are worth every cent, a perfect example of getting what you pay for when you know the who, what, where of what you eat. Towards that end, if you live in Sonoma County, check out Michele Anna Jordan's wonderful weekly Farmer's Market blog ~  Eat This Now ~ in the Press Democrat.

Bernier has a website ~ www.bernierfarms.com ~ but FYI for all you chefs who may be reading this ~ she sells her entire range of excellent produce to restaurants.

Eat the View.

All text Jil Hales. All photos Jil Hales (unless otherwise noted.)

Dish of the Week.....In the Gallery.....In the Fields with Friends.....

Dish of the Week

You & Mother Jus

‘You are what you eat’ is food politics 101, impossible to refute, but not far behind when it comes to the emotional vocabulary we use to describe food experiences is the truism ‘you are what your parents fed you.’  For generations like mine, who grew up in houses where someone cooked every day, the inexorable slide into a world where fewer and fewer people can make a meal from scratch is pretty shocking. And sad. Instead of a family's unique food traditions more and more formative food memories now seem to come, fully formed, from the same folks who have a vested interest in selling the corporate food culture.

Beyond the serious issues of how that culture may be compromising our health (if you ever truly get beyond them), there’s a significant qualitative difference between food memories created when people make the time to sit down together and eat a meal made from real ingredients and the default dining that's become a mainstay of the new American diet which is little more than a simulation of a home cooked meal, pseudo-foodstuffs you eat on the run or in front of a screen.

When Chef proposed Au Jus for the blog this week, neither of us was thinking of the Arby’s empire, or even the vast number of diners and truckstops that have sold Beef Au Jus sandwiches since they became popular in the 50’s. We were thinking in French, as we often do when it comes to the kind of food we cook. A direct translation of Au Jus is ‘of the juice,” with the clear reference being ‘the juice’ of the animal ~ usually lamb or beef ~ you are cooking. Once upon a time using every part of an animal meant survival; used correctly it's a term which should infer access to whole animals, which fewer and fewer restaurants have the skill or take the time to accommodate anymore.

 I have no idea where the ‘beef taste’ in the standard Au Jus served with millions of beef sandwiches bought and consumed every day comes from, but I’m willing to bet the farm there is no connection whatsoever between that sauce and the piece of meat you end up eating it with. This isn’t a rant against bouillon cubes, which we all resort to from time to time, but a reminder that even the ones that promise they are made from 'quality' ingredients are primarily salt, color, and a mix of artificial and hydrolyzed natural flavorings. (FYI: the most common way to hydrolyze a protein is to boil it in a strong acid triggering a chemical breakdown that results in the formation of "free glutamate," which, when joined by sodium, makes MSG. When added this way, the FDA does not require the label to list it as such.)

Which is not to say you need a whole side of beef in the kitchen to make a decent Au Jus at home. Sauté a piece of meat with a few diced veg, skim the fat, squirt some wine in the pan, scrape up the delicious bits clinging to the sides, and you’re good to go. (Add flour and you have a decent gravy.)

But Classic Au Ju, the way we make it here, is something else again. Everyone in the kitchen knows the various stages it goes through by heart and everyone pitches in to make it. Ryan's recipe was adapted from his mentor Richard Reddington, similar to one Daniel Boulud is known for  ~ all three men incorporate a bone stock and a trim sauce, with each contributing different aromatics. They also make use of a 'Mother Jus', which is simply the saved composite of past Au Jus, in much the same way a great balsamic comes from a mother starter, as do bread and yogurt. If you love meat Ryan's Au Jus is liquid Nirvana, more vegetal than starchy, semi-transparent with a rich caramel color, dense with flavors that compress the essence of the protein. Woven throughout are fragrant, rooty aromatics. The images below document the stages from trim sauce to finish ~ directions for the bone stock follow.

The Au Jus is ready. At Barndiva we finish it with a knob of butter and a zoosh of sherry vinegar which brightens the meaty flavors and lifts the wine, tomato, fennel and all the aromatics.

The importance of  roasting the bones and making them into a stock that is combined with the trimmings sauce and the Mother Jus can’t be overstated ~ the natural thickness of the final sauce is a direct result of the gelatin released from the collagen in the bones, the tendons, sinew, and connective tissue. Roast the bones for 1-2 hours at 350, then add to a stock pot in which mirepoix has been sautéed and combined with water, tomato paste, bay leaf, garlic, cloves, black pepper, and thyme. The bone stock is simmered for six hours, strained and reserved. The sauce made from the trim, detailed above, takes about 3 hours.

In the Gallery

Ah Coco, une femme douce, a lady we always love to hear from, especially when a new container arrives from France. This one had some gems ~ including cast iron heads that looked like they'd survived a hundred years of trial by fire which, in fact, they did. Cut from fireplace dogs from the 1920's on, most come in pairs which make beautiful bookends. Singly they are wonderful, unique pieces. Coco tells us the vases were part of an elaborate 19th Century garden wall, pitted and burnished a gorgeous old penny bronze. Heads: $75 Vases (only two left): $100

In the Fields with Friends

File this under "We're not the only ones around here still doing things the old fashioned way."

On Sunday we took a ride out to the Preston's to see how they were getting on with their new apple juice press. If you haven't been to Lou and Susan's beautiful farm and winery on West Dry Creek in a while, go soon, before the rains set in. Their new indoor farmstand ~ with select pieces of Susan's indelible art ~  is almost finished, built to go year round with room for drying and storing. Out in the fields there are still lots of tomatoes on the vines and vegetables growing in the various gardens. This is a great place to bring the kids, to walk and talk to them about everything you see. Keep an eye out for the traveling Hen House Gypsy Wagons where you'll find the pigs rototilling the soil, chickens not far behind (the better to picks up any delicious morsels those pig snouts miss).  The way animals co-habit at Preston Family Vineyard could teach our elected officials in Washington a thing or two about getting along. All of us, for that matter. If you haven't signed on to Lou's blog yet, do so, it's great stuff... here's the link.

A hand turned apple press is simple to use.  A lined, wood slate bucket catches the chopped apples, when it's full you slide the bucket under the press.  The handle is connected to an Acme Thread Screw which is attached to a plate that as you turn applies pressure to the apples. All you do is turn the handle until the juice stops running. Fresh Preston Apple juice is available in the new farmstore while it lasts. Their custom Oak press is made by Correl Cider Presses.

A pensive but happy customer.

Another happy customer who, who along with the chickens, will dine on what's left of the apples.

All text Jil Hales. All photos Jil Hales(unless otherwise noted)

Dish of the Week.....In the Gallery.....

Dish of the Week

Gravenstein Apple Pepper Relish

Jammin’ is all about hanging out in the kitchen with people you like. Sure, your goal is filling the larder for Winter with the best of what you've grown or sourced from Summer to Fall, but to get the stuff in the jars you will spend an inordinate amount of time peeling, cooking, and waiting for those jars to boil. The better the company, the sweeter the ride; the more love in the jar, the better the product.

So I was particularly lucky when Daniel Carlson graciously offered to help me turn the last of our Gravenstein’s into Chef’s Apple Pepper Relish this past week. Dan is the lovely young man helping Lukka expand the gardens at the farm, where we are at the crucial stage of ordering ground cover and setting out a new and greatly expanded planting schedule for next year. It wasn't lost on either of us that the gabfest that ensued was all about what we'd be stirring in these very same pots next year.

While canning and jamming is not a solitary art, mindful it most certainly is.  There came a moment with each batch when we stopped talking, looked deep into the cauldron, and asked in timorous voices the question only masters of the form ever have an easy answer for...'are we there yet?' Knowing the answer takes more than practice.  No matter how rigorously you stick to Grandma’s recipe, if she's still around Grandma would be the first to tell you that each particular batch of fruit is bound to react differently when it hits the pan. This recipe is a case in point: it only calls for four ingredients ~ sugar and vinegar, heirloom apples and peppers ~ but the flavor of the final product is all about developing a talent to play the alchemist when it comes to heat and timing.

You start by making a gastrique ~ but where a normal gastrique only uses vinegar to cut sugar that's been caramelized in water,  in this case you eliminate water and use vinegar to caramelize the sugar. This intensifies the flavors of the syrup in a way that downplays the sweetness of the sugar, allowing the apples and the peppers to shine.  Chef uses Champagne vinegar because it's bright yet mild enough not to step all over the fragrant subtleties you hope to get from the apple-pepper combo.

Apples have a good percentage of pectin, a natural thickening agent, but they also throw off a lot of juice.  Success is all about keeping a vigilant eye, knowing what you are looking for ~ that brief moment when a wooden spoon pulled slowly across the bottom of the pan moves easily through the golden amber syrup, but takes a second longer than it just did to roll back and cover its tracks. If you put the apples and peppers in before you reach this point, when the apples release their juice you'll have to wait for the syrup to thicken again, during which time you risk overcooking the apples. Lose that soft crunch and you lose a key element in what makes this deceptively simply relish so special.

This relish is meant to star our dry farmed Gravenstein's, but any good quality cooking apple will make a nice relish. You can also use any variety of pepper so long as you stay on the sweet side ~ the bite from this relish comes from the vinegar. This is NOT a pepper jam, it’s an apple relish that’s danced in the pan a bit with heirloom peppers. Big difference.

How you cut the fruit is also crucial in the way it affects cooking time and the final look of the relish. We peel the peppers, cutting them into a perfect brunoise. We grate the apples with their pectin rich skin on, before crosscutting them into the same size as the peppers. Invest in a good mandolin ~ Ryan prefers Japanese to French ~ no kitchen should be without one. Yes, they take a bit of getting used to and yes, you will probably shred some skin along with the apples if you take your eyes off the prize for even a second. (They come with a guard, but it's pretty useless). A mandolin, as opposed to a grater, will give you uniformity and a cleaner edge to the cut fruit. Work quickly once you start cutting the apples so you can add them to the syrup before they oxidize and discolor.

The recipe below is for a small batch ~ the better to control the viscosity of the syrup ~ but double it if you hope to still have some left by Christmas because it will go. It's that delicious.

Simple Apple Pepper Relish one sweet red pepper five large (or six smaller) apples 320 grams champagne vinegar 320 grams fine baking sugar

In a large sauce pan, add the sugar to the vinegar and stir until it dissolves, then let the syrup simmer until you reach the moment described above. Add the brunoise of apples and pepper and bring them to a soft crunch stage which should occur right about the time the gastrique has thickened again. Pour into sterilized jars and follow directions using the standard hot water bath process for hot packing hi-acid fruit. Cool and check to see the tops have sealed.

 If you plan to refrigerate the relish and use it within a few weeks,  you can back off to 300 grams each of sugar and vinegar which results in a relish on the drier side, the better to quenelle and serve with lamb or fish.

In the Gallery

Ferdinand Thieriout, the former Yorkville glassblower who has supplied us with a distinctive range of bowls and vases for the past two years, stopped by the Gallery this week with his beautiful family and two boxes full of his coveted 'bubble' bowls which we'd completely sold out of. In a style that references 60's Mad Men glamor with a spare Swedish approach to color,  these are functional pieces of art, equally stunning displayed on their own or filled with salad and veg.

The large salad bowls come in two shapes; both have the distinctive red radish lip, while the smaller fruit bowls are edged in a variety of beautiful colors: Saffron, Forest, Ruby, Denim & Ivory. Prices range from $85. FYI: Due to his move to Little River this month, Ferd informs us this will be our only shipment before Christmas.  He should have a new Studio up and running (there's talk of it being mobile!) early next year.

All text Jil Hales. All photos Jil Hales and Dawid Jaworski (unless otherwise noted)