Its been a while since my first post but I do intend to keep this up. It became clear to me when one of my favorite customers/ foodies commented that he had pretty much stopped thinking about salads and fruit in his kitchen (barring the recent arrival of magnificent pears) that fall has arrived Then I ate fresh pomegranate a few days later. The peaches I tasted every morning went from Job perk to "I'm not selling that thing, kindly remove whatever it is from my sight." Like my friend; my thoughts began to change. I have begun to plan for Poached quince and it's lovely aroma warming up my kitchen on a cold night. Soon, the annual delegation of Thanksgiving duties will arrive from friends and family. Pumpkin pie, winter squash, yams, potatoes, stews, etc. It's all starting to arrive. We still have corn and I am still barbecuing often so my summer loves are not gone yet but I feel the chill in the air at night. Here is an old recipe for greens that I make when its cold.
Greens/Potlika
I use a crock pot for this but you could use a large heavy bottomed pot for sure, I quickly also quickly saute some of the ingredients before adding them to the pot.
you will need :
As many dark leaky greens as you can get in the pot such as, kale, collards, chard, I will pretty use any of the sturdy greens.
1 yellow onion (diced)
Garlic to taste (a little larger then minced)
a few slices of prosciutto (diced
about 2 tablespoons of butter/ I will add a little Olive oil to stop the butter at brown
I quart stock ( I use chicken, but veg or beef would work fine)
1 quart Water( or enough to cover greens)
wash and chop all greens, removing them from the stalks
1. Brown butter in saute pan, add the oil, onion and prosciutto
wait until onions are trans add the garlic toss briefly and remove from heat. It only takes a few minutes and will really add a lot of flavor
2. Add this mixture to the crock pot ( set to High), add greens, chicken stock, and water stir it up.
3. put the lid on, all done! Except for the waiting game.
Check in about 45 minutes, then you can adjust it to low and keep it going for hours. I have left it all night and it was great. 2-3 hours seems to be about prime. The Greens are done when they are tender. But the true nutrition is in that broth. I just ladle it right into a mug and drink it like tea. It is so warming and great for people who are scared of these greens bitter flavors, they won't believe it!
If you are really industrious while the greens are cooking you can make bread ( out of this world combo) but that is a recipe for another day.
In Hopes and Thanks, enjoy! jp
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
the orgin of a reluctant early bird
Hello, welcome to my blog. I was a little stuck on the "about me" section of my profile so I opted to just to mention some things I've been involved with here. I began working at eight. My first job was performing as an extra with the Paris opera Ballet while they toured the Kennedy Center in Washington DC. I continued to focus on Ballet throughout my youth eventually ending up at The Kirov Ballet school also in Washington. The ballet portion of my life ends there. Dislocated Shoulder. The doctors could either staple me back together and I couldn't dance or I could try for rehabilitation. After a year or so of attempts to fix that pesky shoulder It became clear I needed a new avenue. Ballet dancers are perhaps some of the strangest most dedicated to their art people in the world, leaving the injured dancer a multitude of questions concerning what to do with one's self if not dancing. "Hope it heals" many would say as I trotted off to pursue other things. I began to focus my studies on music and Philosophy. Played in bands up and down the east coast and into the Midwest. As any touring musician will tell you Food service jobs not only provide a paycheck; they have food there. I had become a vegetarian in middle school so I went to work at Whole foods in Ann Arbor Michigan. I discovered organic food and became devoted. I was not however devoted to working at 5 am my shift in the produce department. I kept it up for a while but when the opportunity arose to change jobs I ran for it. I ran all the way to Zingerman's Deli. If you do not know this place go there, look it up on line, call them, just get there somehow they have Great food! They even named a sandwich after me (jon P's Upstream Odyssey). I managed their Cafe "Next Door" Ironically starting my day at 5am . I learned so much about food (especially coffee) I became annoying to myself. It was too late I became a "Foodie". I was spoiled, I tasted foi gras, ate Roquefort blue cheese, panzanella Salads, fresh baked breads, had $100 dollar bottles of olive oil just sitting out on my counter. After a time I had no alternative. California. Hello wine country, fresh produce, cheese made moments before I entered an establishment. Yes we are very spoiled. I moved to San Francisco ( I had been out there when I was younger for Ballet School) . I worked as a bartender/server at Ti Couz a crepery with a traditional menu of sweet or savory crepes. I later moved to Oakland and spent a few years as the front of the house manager of Carrara's cafe. An amazing place located inside a car dealership run by Paul Carrara. I moved again to Santa Cruz. I worked briefly at the Saturn Cafe an all night diner specializing in vegetarian food. I then began cooking in other restaurants ending up (Briefly) as the sous chef at Blue water Steak house (long since my 15 year stint of vegetarianism). I love cooking and will fill in for friends in the kitchen now and again but much prefer my reincarnation at Diamond Organics where I start my day again at around 5am. As long as that summary of me was I definitely omitted many many things. I just wanted to give some background for these writings. They will primarily focus on ingredients and dishes I come across daily and think you might find interest in, I have discovered that just information about the food we take in can help change our perceptions of the world we live in. Hope! It heals, jp
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Guiding Teenage Angst through Cooking
Hi Everybody! I'm back. For the time being. I took some time off from Diamond in order to study for a large exam that I'm hoping will help to further my health-related career. Lets cross our fingers that it went well (I'll be receiving my scores in about a month). In any case, besides studying, here's the low-down on what I've been up to this summer:
After graduating from college at the University of California, Santa Cruz (go slugs!) in 2005, I decided to take some time off and got a job teaching seventh grade math and science at an urban school district in the San Francisco Bay Area. The experience was difficult, but ultimately proved to be very rewarding as I learned to become a more effective teacher towards the end of my second and last year. I ended up forming deeply meaningful relationships with many of my students, with whom I still keep in touch. Each relationship is as different as the next, with each student interacting with me in different ways and for different reasons. Below is an account of one of my students and our first experience together with organic food.
When I met Krystal* in my second year of teaching, she was a seventh grade student with a reputation for trouble. She was moody and often defiant, once walking out of my classroom, leaving campus altogether. This was a big problem: Krystal was never consistently present in class, voluntarily or otherwise, making it difficult for her to do well in school even if she had wanted to. While most teachers in the already challenging working environment had very little patience for Krystal's attitude, I never took it personally, reminding myself that there was likely an underlying reason for her poor behavior. As I came to know her, eventually I found out that she had suffered the loss of two very important people in her life due to gun violence and had volatile relationships with other adult figures. With this in mind, I've tried to be consistent and supportive, encouraging her whenever I can to focus on her schoolwork. Surprisingly, she's responded: just last year, Krystal improved her grades to mostly Bs and Cs.
This summer, I invited Krystal to spend a week with me, my mother and brother, at our home near Moss Landing. We've live in small but cozy rental just steps from the beach. For Krystal it's like being on vacation. I've also opportunistically used this time as a vacation from junk food - a McDonald's regular and a hot Cheetos fanatic, Krystal's poor eating habits show physically. I've discussed the health impacts of her dietary decisions openly. Careful not to be too imposing, I try to make the topic of good nutrition fun by encouraging her to look through cookbooks herself, pick out recipes that seem tasty to her, and help her to prepare the meal for both of us.
The first recipe we tried was an easy one from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything: steamed clams, a baked potato, and a simple salad with homemade vinaigrette (as opposed to the calorie-packed supermarket dressings). Since I've never made clams, I was tickled by how absolutely quick, easy, and TASTY, they were: red onions, parsley, and a cup of wine in the bottom of a large pot, clams and voilà: less then 10 minutes later, we had a low-calorie, real gourmet meal. As the two of us feasted on the outside patio as the sun went down, we did not hold back from gorging ourselves with the satisfaction of a job well done.
The next night we were more ambitious. We decided to check out the menu suggestions at the back of the Bittman book for ideas. Ultimately, we settled on halibut skewers (halibut, portobello mushrooms, onions, bacon, bay leaves, spice), a grilled shrimp and tomato salad, rice pilaf, and grilled asparagus. Krystal was responsible for the skewers and asparagus and did an excellent job preparing them. When it came time to grill them, we had a bit of a scare when the fish juices incited a small fire in the pit. It was easily contained though and the fish turned out beautifully - soft, tender, and flavorful. We invited Krystal's seven-year-old twin sisters and a few of my friends and feasted once more on the patio before heading down to the beach for a bonfire and smores.
What was so rewarding for me was to watch Krystal take initiative to choose, plan for, and prepare a recipe with almost zero input from me. Subconsciously, I think we both recognized the power in that simple exercise of self-sufficiency and we're both better off for it. The unspoken trust and respect that was gained from working side by side in the kitchen as near equals, with me stopping only to offer bits of advice when warranted, seemed to be symbolic of a larger process in play: the teenage experience, with all its downturns and pitfalls, a road to be traveled by an inexperienced driver that can be successfully managed with just the right balance of trust, respect, and guidance.
*Name changed to respect anonymity
After graduating from college at the University of California, Santa Cruz (go slugs!) in 2005, I decided to take some time off and got a job teaching seventh grade math and science at an urban school district in the San Francisco Bay Area. The experience was difficult, but ultimately proved to be very rewarding as I learned to become a more effective teacher towards the end of my second and last year. I ended up forming deeply meaningful relationships with many of my students, with whom I still keep in touch. Each relationship is as different as the next, with each student interacting with me in different ways and for different reasons. Below is an account of one of my students and our first experience together with organic food.
When I met Krystal* in my second year of teaching, she was a seventh grade student with a reputation for trouble. She was moody and often defiant, once walking out of my classroom, leaving campus altogether. This was a big problem: Krystal was never consistently present in class, voluntarily or otherwise, making it difficult for her to do well in school even if she had wanted to. While most teachers in the already challenging working environment had very little patience for Krystal's attitude, I never took it personally, reminding myself that there was likely an underlying reason for her poor behavior. As I came to know her, eventually I found out that she had suffered the loss of two very important people in her life due to gun violence and had volatile relationships with other adult figures. With this in mind, I've tried to be consistent and supportive, encouraging her whenever I can to focus on her schoolwork. Surprisingly, she's responded: just last year, Krystal improved her grades to mostly Bs and Cs.
This summer, I invited Krystal to spend a week with me, my mother and brother, at our home near Moss Landing. We've live in small but cozy rental just steps from the beach. For Krystal it's like being on vacation. I've also opportunistically used this time as a vacation from junk food - a McDonald's regular and a hot Cheetos fanatic, Krystal's poor eating habits show physically. I've discussed the health impacts of her dietary decisions openly. Careful not to be too imposing, I try to make the topic of good nutrition fun by encouraging her to look through cookbooks herself, pick out recipes that seem tasty to her, and help her to prepare the meal for both of us.
The first recipe we tried was an easy one from Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything: steamed clams, a baked potato, and a simple salad with homemade vinaigrette (as opposed to the calorie-packed supermarket dressings). Since I've never made clams, I was tickled by how absolutely quick, easy, and TASTY, they were: red onions, parsley, and a cup of wine in the bottom of a large pot, clams and voilà: less then 10 minutes later, we had a low-calorie, real gourmet meal. As the two of us feasted on the outside patio as the sun went down, we did not hold back from gorging ourselves with the satisfaction of a job well done.
The next night we were more ambitious. We decided to check out the menu suggestions at the back of the Bittman book for ideas. Ultimately, we settled on halibut skewers (halibut, portobello mushrooms, onions, bacon, bay leaves, spice), a grilled shrimp and tomato salad, rice pilaf, and grilled asparagus. Krystal was responsible for the skewers and asparagus and did an excellent job preparing them. When it came time to grill them, we had a bit of a scare when the fish juices incited a small fire in the pit. It was easily contained though and the fish turned out beautifully - soft, tender, and flavorful. We invited Krystal's seven-year-old twin sisters and a few of my friends and feasted once more on the patio before heading down to the beach for a bonfire and smores.
What was so rewarding for me was to watch Krystal take initiative to choose, plan for, and prepare a recipe with almost zero input from me. Subconsciously, I think we both recognized the power in that simple exercise of self-sufficiency and we're both better off for it. The unspoken trust and respect that was gained from working side by side in the kitchen as near equals, with me stopping only to offer bits of advice when warranted, seemed to be symbolic of a larger process in play: the teenage experience, with all its downturns and pitfalls, a road to be traveled by an inexperienced driver that can be successfully managed with just the right balance of trust, respect, and guidance.
*Name changed to respect anonymity
Thursday, March 13, 2008
The Henry Wine Group Spring Trade Tasting
I am not a high maintenance woman, but back in 1986, my childhood nickname (donned by my mother) was "Miss Priss". I loved tights and tutus, shiny shoes, and just about anything pink. So you can imagine the thrill I experienced when I tried cotton candy for the very first time. Now more than 20 years later, I can still remember most details about the event:
Shortly after sunset, my family was getting ready to head home after having spent the afternoon at the county fair. We had come with friends of my parents and their children; between the Ferris wheel and a game booth, we stopped at a grassy area to say our goodbyes. I was tired and cranky and flopped down on one of the long railroad ties arranged around the area to rest. As the smell of creosote filled my nostrils, I perked up at the sight of a large plastic bag stashed under my mother's arm as she approached me. It was filled with something fluffy and - my favorite color - pink. I was immediately interested. I must have been acting brattier than usual because I can't think of any other reason why my normally very strict, health conscious parents would have acted so out of character so as to have bought me a bag of this sweet goodness without insistent prompting from yours truly. I stuck my hand in the bag and pulled out a fingerful of the sticky stuff and was puzzled. Skeptically, I put it in my mouth anyway, totally unprepared for what I would experience over the next few seconds. I was overtaken by a mix of bewilderment, wonder, and astonishment; I had no idea that the world had something so amazing to offer me! And then, it was gone and had disappeared just as soon as it landed on my tongue. It seemed like I didn't even need to swallow it! I dove into the bag for more. I decided I loved everything about it - the texture, the flavor, the disappearing act it pulled on me, and of course, the color.
Other than my father attempting to pry the bag out of my hands before I could polish it off so that the other children could have some, I don't remember much from the rest of that night. I've had many memorable dining experiences since then, but none that have captured that unique blend of surprise and amazement like my first taste of cotton candy...until this past Tuesday evening. My mother, Kathleen, invited me to accompany her to The Henry Wine Group Monterey-Santa Cruz Spring Trade Tasting at the Carmel Valley Ranch Resort in Carmel, California. I am still very much a wine novice, but I've got an intense desire to learn more so I was more than happy to come along. It was an industry event where winemakers, representatives, and buyers could all interface for the purpose of promoting the latest wines to hit the market. We arrived halfway through the three hour tasting and it wasn't long before I made a couple of friends who were representing a local restaurant. We stayed for dinner, a beautiful banquet of endive salad with crumbled cheese, mustard dressing, and pecans, sauteed gnocchi, bow tie pasta, fish and meat. After I indulged myself at the banquet table, I headed out to join my new found friends, Monica and Andarine, at a table. Of course, Andarine was clever enough to seat us at a table that displayed a full case of wine on one of the chairs. We took our seats next to Scott Evans, National Brand Manager at the Henry Wine Group and his friend, Todd Coffin, of ExCellars Wine Agencies, who sat to our left, and Brandon Sparks-Gills, a young apprentice winemaker at Demetria Estate, who sat to my right. Throughout the meal, I was delighted to taste one wine after another, as Scott generously poured us glass after glass. At one point, Scott looks at me (somewhat devilishly I might add) and says "here, try this one. Its the Viognier of all Viognier." I'd had some prior experience with Viognier wine. Last semester, I audited a Wine Appreciation class at San Jose State but dropped out after my schedule got too full. I remember reading about Viognier wine, being inspired by the description, running out to Safeway to buy a bottle, and being utterly disappointed with my purchase. It was far too sweet to drink. I'd tried other bottles since, all with the same outcome. Hiding my skepticism, I went for it.
It looked light and clean, not sweet and syrupy - a good sign. Smelling it, I should have had an idea as to what I was in for. But like my cotton candy experience some 20 plus years ago, I could not have been prepared. There's no way I could have known. It was interesting, complex for a white wine (though again, I'm no Sommelier by any stretch of the imagination). It had a beautiful floral aroma of distinctive smells that I couldn't quite put my finger on, though one in particular stood out. As I took some of it into my mouth, its flavors burst onto my tongue, sending nerve impulses 100 m/s from my taste buds to my brain, igniting areas of my cortex thick in nostalgia, romance, hope, and memory. That one distinctive floral aroma I smelled? I recognized it by taste right away: jasmine. I looked at the glass and was immediately infatuated. A tear sprang to my eye as this glass conjured up memories of afar: in particular, a warm summer evening in San Francisco, very early in my romance with my boyfriend Nathan, sitting for dinner on a beautiful terrace surrounded by jasmine, telling him for the first time that I was falling in love with him. In my haze, I noticed Scott watching me. "Its like heroin", I heard him say with a smile. "Yeah, yeah it is" I said, dreamily. It seemed like all of the hope and beauty of the moment were contained in that one glass of Viognier, and it gave me a sense of inspiration. Inspiration for the future, for all of us, for our country...as my mind drifted to politics, I looked at that glass in a state of awe and love, like I had been struck in the heart by cupid's arrow. I snapped out of it momentarily, long enough to witness Scott holding the bottle of
2006 E. Guigal "La Dorian" Condrieu up to Brandon from across the table. "Look at what I got her", he said with a knowing tone to which Brandon responded by holding out his glass. "I've never had this kind of experience with wine" I shared with Brandon, who told me humbly that this is what wine was all about - taking it to the next level, sharing an almost spiritual experience with the grape. I was, and still am, completely enraptured.
Shortly after sunset, my family was getting ready to head home after having spent the afternoon at the county fair. We had come with friends of my parents and their children; between the Ferris wheel and a game booth, we stopped at a grassy area to say our goodbyes. I was tired and cranky and flopped down on one of the long railroad ties arranged around the area to rest. As the smell of creosote filled my nostrils, I perked up at the sight of a large plastic bag stashed under my mother's arm as she approached me. It was filled with something fluffy and - my favorite color - pink. I was immediately interested. I must have been acting brattier than usual because I can't think of any other reason why my normally very strict, health conscious parents would have acted so out of character so as to have bought me a bag of this sweet goodness without insistent prompting from yours truly. I stuck my hand in the bag and pulled out a fingerful of the sticky stuff and was puzzled. Skeptically, I put it in my mouth anyway, totally unprepared for what I would experience over the next few seconds. I was overtaken by a mix of bewilderment, wonder, and astonishment; I had no idea that the world had something so amazing to offer me! And then, it was gone and had disappeared just as soon as it landed on my tongue. It seemed like I didn't even need to swallow it! I dove into the bag for more. I decided I loved everything about it - the texture, the flavor, the disappearing act it pulled on me, and of course, the color.
Other than my father attempting to pry the bag out of my hands before I could polish it off so that the other children could have some, I don't remember much from the rest of that night. I've had many memorable dining experiences since then, but none that have captured that unique blend of surprise and amazement like my first taste of cotton candy...until this past Tuesday evening. My mother, Kathleen, invited me to accompany her to The Henry Wine Group Monterey-Santa Cruz Spring Trade Tasting at the Carmel Valley Ranch Resort in Carmel, California. I am still very much a wine novice, but I've got an intense desire to learn more so I was more than happy to come along. It was an industry event where winemakers, representatives, and buyers could all interface for the purpose of promoting the latest wines to hit the market. We arrived halfway through the three hour tasting and it wasn't long before I made a couple of friends who were representing a local restaurant. We stayed for dinner, a beautiful banquet of endive salad with crumbled cheese, mustard dressing, and pecans, sauteed gnocchi, bow tie pasta, fish and meat. After I indulged myself at the banquet table, I headed out to join my new found friends, Monica and Andarine, at a table. Of course, Andarine was clever enough to seat us at a table that displayed a full case of wine on one of the chairs. We took our seats next to Scott Evans, National Brand Manager at the Henry Wine Group and his friend, Todd Coffin, of ExCellars Wine Agencies, who sat to our left, and Brandon Sparks-Gills, a young apprentice winemaker at Demetria Estate, who sat to my right. Throughout the meal, I was delighted to taste one wine after another, as Scott generously poured us glass after glass. At one point, Scott looks at me (somewhat devilishly I might add) and says "here, try this one. Its the Viognier of all Viognier." I'd had some prior experience with Viognier wine. Last semester, I audited a Wine Appreciation class at San Jose State but dropped out after my schedule got too full. I remember reading about Viognier wine, being inspired by the description, running out to Safeway to buy a bottle, and being utterly disappointed with my purchase. It was far too sweet to drink. I'd tried other bottles since, all with the same outcome. Hiding my skepticism, I went for it.
It looked light and clean, not sweet and syrupy - a good sign. Smelling it, I should have had an idea as to what I was in for. But like my cotton candy experience some 20 plus years ago, I could not have been prepared. There's no way I could have known. It was interesting, complex for a white wine (though again, I'm no Sommelier by any stretch of the imagination). It had a beautiful floral aroma of distinctive smells that I couldn't quite put my finger on, though one in particular stood out. As I took some of it into my mouth, its flavors burst onto my tongue, sending nerve impulses 100 m/s from my taste buds to my brain, igniting areas of my cortex thick in nostalgia, romance, hope, and memory. That one distinctive floral aroma I smelled? I recognized it by taste right away: jasmine. I looked at the glass and was immediately infatuated. A tear sprang to my eye as this glass conjured up memories of afar: in particular, a warm summer evening in San Francisco, very early in my romance with my boyfriend Nathan, sitting for dinner on a beautiful terrace surrounded by jasmine, telling him for the first time that I was falling in love with him. In my haze, I noticed Scott watching me. "Its like heroin", I heard him say with a smile. "Yeah, yeah it is" I said, dreamily. It seemed like all of the hope and beauty of the moment were contained in that one glass of Viognier, and it gave me a sense of inspiration. Inspiration for the future, for all of us, for our country...as my mind drifted to politics, I looked at that glass in a state of awe and love, like I had been struck in the heart by cupid's arrow. I snapped out of it momentarily, long enough to witness Scott holding the bottle of
2006 E. Guigal "La Dorian" Condrieu up to Brandon from across the table. "Look at what I got her", he said with a knowing tone to which Brandon responded by holding out his glass. "I've never had this kind of experience with wine" I shared with Brandon, who told me humbly that this is what wine was all about - taking it to the next level, sharing an almost spiritual experience with the grape. I was, and still am, completely enraptured.
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