californio dreamin'

This post plays with a new concept of sorts, so if you are just looking for a recipe, then skip on down a ways and scratch your head while wondering why..........or pretend like you are transported back in time...........(like in the movies, you know, where you exercise "willing suspension of disbelief" all the time)

Feb. 16th, 1863.
Dear Uncle Garner,

It is late Friday here in Monterey. I would love to be home again, enjoying whatever fills your hearth air, and it is this memory that I bring to mind as I write. California remains somewhat exotic for me, and I am still not used to the local fare (even after 13 years!). I will freely admit that unlike home, here in the spring (mis-named winter locally) we have fresh items: onions, garlic and cabbage that look splendid; cheese of many kinds; crabs are still easy to pull from the depths; and ample supply of salt beef and pork are to be had. We are not want for sustenance by any means. Despite these bounties here, I am now and then forced to be somewhat wreckless with my dining preparations. Occasionally, out of need yes, more so out of ignorance truthfully.

I offer as anecdote, an experience involving a bizarre new item: an "alligator pear" or "aguacate," as I have heard, that found it's way into my home a few days ago, after sailing from a port near the City of Angels. Angelic or not, I am not at all acquainted with this leathery looking green pear, and quite to my suprise, in using it as prescribed by it's giftor, created an uproar in our home at supper by placing it atop soup! Afterward, the men stood about frantically smoking their pipes and swilled copious amounts of some local "brandy" while arguing whether this newly presented item was fruit or vegetable, and what therefore would be the proper course for this "pear" to be a part of. If only they knew what was in the soup, their conversations might be of a different matter entirely!

(this is still in the works, so let's stop there for today and fast forward:)

I've been wanting to explore the theme of cooking within a particular time and place in history (and ideally the associated available food), where I pretend I have landed there and am forced to make do. (Miraculously, my current state of experience remains intact. I love fantasies.) This is another horizon to the theme contained here, and it might be important to keep this in mind while you read on. Call it justification for the ingredients about to be used. Call it writing a story around some recipe made up on the spot. Call it using what's in the house, in this season and time, while wanting to participate in some Soup's On! fun. Call it birthing a new idea and trying it out. In public (ouch!). Call it pulling out the stops, and rolling it all into one. Thank you Alanna!

I wanted to play along in the soupy fun and was daydreaming in the realm of possibilities for this post when I tripped over the idea. Literally. We have pumpkins on our doorstep that date to Halloween, a gift grown by grandpa that have lived sporadically in the house since that time. About a month ago they were moved outside. They have collected sediment beneath them with the tiny bit of rain we have had, but are free of rot and look like they were just picked. Several times, while not paying attention going out our door, I have stubbed my toe on one or another, and immediately berated myself about not doing something with them. After the last trip, I thought: Ha! One of you is becoming soup!

I've always wanted to try cooking a soup inside of a pumpkin, so from the start I was intending on making this happen. Due to the antiquity of the pumpkin, I started thinking about other old items we have around that might be used. We have some old stock in the freezer, that's good. We have potatoes and cheese. That's good too. Hey, all these things are old! Yeah, I'll do an OLD SOUP post!

Wait! What am I thinking? Focus D. Okay, put the stock in the pumpkin, add some ingredients, maybe use that salted beef......wait a second. Is it possible that all of the items I am contemplating would have been around for some long-ago relative to use.......Wait, what about this avocado that I wanted to incorporate, and needs to be eaten? I've seen folks put these as garnish on soups. Dowf! How long ago did these become a foodstuff here in sunny California? Hmmm, you don't say, really.......

With the fantasy in mind, the monkey and I forged ahead and brought our victim into the house to be gutted. We removed the top, scooped out the seeds and persimmon, and started to prep our other ingredients. (Kidding about that persimmon! See this post for more background on this overly used item.) With pumpkin prepped, we filled it with our frozen crab stock (using the logic, lots of crabs back then, probably had some stock of sorts or easily could have) and put it in the oven. Where to go from here.....

My sis had bought some "beef bacon" for us to try. Considering it was a heavily salted meat item that was likely rather popular before refrigeration, I assumed that this would have been common back then, and besides, I needed some fat to fry the onions in. I grated a little cheese (olive oil and brine rubbed, I thought this might be reminiscent of earlier days), got out a few potatoes and onions, and sat my Hass down for a little rest. For those sticklers out there, yes, the Hass wasn't "developed" until the 1930's, and to be authentic, this should probably be something more like a Fuerte, but come on, keep playing along please.)

The pumpkin was baking, filled with crab stock, fried salted beef and onions, grated cheese and diced potatoes. It needed more body, and we had leftover cabbage. I don't know about early cabbage usage in CA, but I do know that it would grow easily, and at the very least different species were likely being farmed in family plots by members of the local Asian community at the time. I thinly sliced about a third of a head of cabbage and stirred it into the soup.

Baking together in the oven, it was starting to smell intriguing at least. After a good hour at least, the pumpkin was browning nicely and the contents looked great! I ladled some out into a cup, and it was good. I wanted to stop right there, and write something else for this post, but struggling with honesty, forced myself to go on. Besides, the pumpkin was balanced within a ceramic dish (but unsupported on its bottom) and beginning to cave in with each moment. I removed it from the oven, pureed the contents, scraped the flesh from the gourd, blended that too, and prepared the avocado for the top. I had some garlic quark in the fridge and thought: shucks, I have no fresh crema for authenticities sake, but this will defiantely taste good. (Remember, first time trying this theme out, so my allowances are a bit loose here.)

It was like orange velvet. Only with meat bits, and a crabby disposition. The cream component tied it all together though, and I just couldn't help but frying up some sourdough bread crumbs to serve on top. It was definately different. Inspired though? Uh, sure. Tasty? Yeah, but you might have to like the ingredients to start with. Should I do it again? I'll leave that to the bloggers out there who stumble upon this one. Who I pray, will get to this point in this long and complicated post not asking: "What was this guy thinking?" only to read on and find themselves staring at a recipe in disbelief.

californio pumpkin soup:

1 big, old pumpkin
1 quart crab stock
3 russet potatoes
3 large spring onions
2 thick slabs "beef bacon"
3 ounces finely grated Old World Portuguese cheese
1/3 savoy cabbage

garnish:
1 avocado
seasoned sourdough bread crumbs
creme fraiche (sounds better huh?), but you can use sour cream or quark for the same result
oregano sprig

Cut off top of pumpkin and scoop out the seeds and loose innards. Place stock into pumpkin and put into the oven. (I took the lid off until the liquid was hot, as it seemed that initially it kept the inside from effectively heating by acting as the top to a cooler on a blistering hot day.) Do this in some sort of secondary containment if attempting for the first time, as I did and still managed to make a huge mess. While the pot is browning and the stock is heating, fry your bacon. If using beef, you will need some oil too. I used a local olive oil and when the bacon was beginning to brown, I threw in the chopped onions including most of the greens. When the bacon is done, chop it into smaller pieces, adding it and the onions to the steaming broth in the gourd. Dice the potatoes and some finely sliced cabbage. Add some finely grated cheese. Carefully stir all of the ingredients while trying not to poke a hole in the side of the now possibly slumping/deforming pot. Place the lid back on and attempt to cook for an hour or so more. When it has been over an hour, or impending scalding hot liquid doom is imminent, transfer the contents of the pumpkin to either a blender or a large pot and puree by some means. Scrape the now very tender flesh from the steaming pumpkin and add to the puree. With all of the cooked items incorporated, serve garnished with slices of avocado, some creamy dollop of sorts, and something else fun, like herbed breadcrumbs from the last bread you overbaked. Think: It is not 1863, and try to enjoy. And serve with a nice high-alcohol beer. Preferably prepared in an authentic fashion of course.

Thanks for listening!

For those stopping by for the first time:
Thanks for coming on the ride. Please check for all of your personal belongings before disembarking the vehicle and have a lovely day. And please, stop by the monkey ranch in the future. It's really not this weird all the time. (Who am I kidding?)

On second thought, maybe I should have started playing with this new theme in a time and place where sourdough, used with whole wheat and rye were popular breads. Yeah....maybe that would have been a bit easier considering this picture represents what else had been happening in my house as I have attempted to write up this post. See, I'll be playing in the snow with monkeys this weekend, and I hear bread keeps you warm. When dipped in hot soup that is. So today, in preparation for the cold I baked some bagels, pretzels, and a baguette while starting the new habit of documenting sourdough adventures in my new "book of loaves."

A monkey wranglers work in the kitchen, is never completely done........

winter root and fruit

I could be talking about us, pictured here in front of the Ecology Center Booth at the Sat-BFM, or the produce in the bags seen at the lower right, or what I'm thinking about when the shot was taken. (Thanks Rosalie!) You see, I get a seed stuck in my head, and the cycle begins. It germinates and begins to infiltrate the soil in my mind, branching into unknown territory while passing by the familiar. It takes shape, and at a critical point in this early life, I glimpse what it may become. The idea has roots now, and as a carefully attentive gardener, I must decide if I need to nurture this one, or concentrate my energy on another. To weed or not to weed........that is the question. When this pic was taken, I had one of those "hare brained" ideas in my mind...

The idea started as seed while writing a comment on a beautiful post by callipygia about "Finding Heat". I was thinking of the orange items in our produce and I inadvertantly germinated the seed in my head. With a little prompting, I was bent on seeing this root through to fruition.

These crazy thoughts often revolve around an ingredient. Sometimes, I picture myself in the past, with a glut of some particular crop. I have to feed my family, and by the looks of it we will be eating this item for at least a month. (Okay, in leaner times in our history I would be eating said item for EVERY MEAL, not just experimenting with it several times.) First we have it in the fashion we are familiar, expand on the theme maybe and then end up at the inevitable; grossed out and feigning fullness. I know I'm not the only person out there who has looked at an ingredient, closed there eyes trying to invoke some knowledge from an etherial realm, and asked out loud: "Please, may I find a new way to prepare this, for I am sick and tired of (insert bland or boring recipe here) and I will absolutely hurl if I have to have (ingredient identified above, for example: persimmon) prepared this way again. For the love of god, please."

We go hit the Farmer's Market for inspiration, and drop by for some yummy ketchup from Happy Girl Kitchen (for some fries at a later date), drop by River Dog Farm to pick up some golden beets and super sweet carrots, and manage to kill another hour listening to fine music and hitting some of our other favorites. In fact, I'm positive that as the photo up top was taken, the monkey was busy working on a "meat stick" from, who else.

We got back on the bike, and peddled our way home. I often do my best thinking while exercising, and the ride did me good. I needed to work on some spices, but the idea was growing, and the first glimmer of the end was in sight. I wanted to incorporate the cilantro we purchased and it made me think of it's seed form. A curry spicing! It was an idea just crazy enough that it might work. I wanted to see what produce might find it's way into our hands the next day before making my next move.

With a bag of oranges on our table (their glowing spheres plucked that morning in Reedley at H's folks place) it made me think of Pearl. My friend J there made a chilled beet soup that had a touch of orange in it and I loved it. Knowing this was comforting. It seemed my thoughts had some basis in reality, so I watered them, with some nutritive beer during SB41, and slept on it.

Even though I was making two other items, I thawed and blended my goo-yu. The multi-tasking led to another of our recent episodes where the monkey nabs the camera and begins clicking away, but the result captured this messy shot. I looked at the slop and immediately wished I had pulled this idea as a weed.

My director of photgraphy remained enthusiastic about me combining the roots and goop and wanted me to simply pour it all in a bowl. She needed redirecting. Knowing her past work with a mortar and pestle, I set her to measuring out some spices while I prepped the roots for roasting. When finished, I blended the cooked roots, goo/slop, veggie stock, and some orange juice. It needed the spices. I set it on the stove, lit the burner and started mixing. With our powder incorporated, it was a sweet carrot and beet soup, with a bright citrus nose and curry-likeness. The persimmon was there, but really only if you knew about it. While this type of ingredient showcasing might not sell any cookbooks, and really maybe should not be shared at all (like that nightmare from the other night where I'm on the Iron Chef and the secret ingredient is Fuyu), it will get me to finish the aforementioned (see, I'm even sick of typing the word) glut of fruit without barfing. Many a recipe in this world was invented because someone wanted to hide an ingredient without their family/kids (think: green usually) or perhaps even king (think: poison) taking notice. I'd call this a smashing success with those criteria......



WINTER ROOTS AND FRUITS SOUP or
a decent reason to put persimmons into a soup, rather than tossing them:

6 big carrots
3 medium golden beets
3 runny fuyu
2 sweet oranges
1 cup veggie stock

spice mix: (this time, I'm gonna expand on this one later)
1 t coriander seed
1/2 t cumin seed
1/2 t brown mustard seed
1/2 t ground ginger
1/2 t ground turmeric

Peel and chop the carrots and beets into half inch cubes, toss into a shallow pan, drizzle with olive oil and a pinch of salt and bake at 400 for an hour, stirring once or twice. While roots are cooking, grind spices into a powder and give a dry roast in a hot pan until the smell punches you. Set aside. Make a slice in the side of the persimmons over the food processor and squeeze into it, removing any seeds if you find them and discarding the skin. Blend. When roots are tender and getting brown edges, remove from oven, toss into an empty blender with veggie stock and hit the switch. Add the goop and juice from them oranges and give another go until smooth. Pour into pot and begin simmering. (Carefully, remember beets, persimmons, carrots=orange dots of very effective dye.) Adjust the quantity of spice to suit your palatte and cook for about an hour. Garnish with a bit of cilantro to show people that you know it and coriander are really the same thing. Serve with high alcohol beer so that people forget about the persimmon.

DISCLAIMER/WARNING: I take no responsibility for such wreckless usage of persimmons that might occur in your home as a result of this post. In fact, such carefree actions performed in front of the children may cause a sort of confusion within the normal rules, resulting in them also taking a creative stance with the combination of their lunch items. In this pic, the fruit, in taking after her roots, decided to combine raw almond milk onto leftover penne with freshly grated parm. Didn't really strike me as too yummy, but with her having witnessed and taken part in my soup the night before, I didn't really feel that I stood on to firm of authoritative ground when it came to explaining why we don't normally do such things in our home. Yet another example for this parent that it is of the utmost importance to choose your battles wisely....

what's your favorite soup ?

Winter weather makes you want warming comfort foods. Soup has a long history of filling this requirement for many, and I am no exception. Winter is fully here, you have many root vegetables and things, and I think "Mmmmm, having soup enrobed in a thick white cover." When others are contemplating that steaming bowl, thinking of a nice fleecey coat or blanket to snuggle up with, I'm thinking of a cauldron of soup with a sort of fleece IN it, served with a thick blanket ON it. I love this time of year, and I prefer satiating my comfort needs by wearing my sheepy products on the inside, so I make up a huge pot of minestrone.

This recipe takes a little planning, and alot of time, but the results are.........well, according to my friend and family, most excellent. After feasting on it the first day, you are usually left with upwards of 5-6 quarts of leftovers, so the time invested will either stock your freezer or make you many friends. It is also easy on the pocketbook (considering the portions) to make because it contains beans, cabbage, potatoes, celery, onions, and parsley, simmered in chicken stock, butter, olive oil and grated romano for hours, then finished with a dollop of pesto and cooked some more. Twenty minutes before serving, I ladle a few quarts into another pot and add noodles. When finished, serve with copious quantities of more romano. Doesn't now sound like the perfect time for making it?

If you are lucky enough to have a nearby farmers market, you can get most of the produce needed this time of year. If you are shopping for the ingredients at the store, it will be easy to find the ingredients any time of year. So, this weekend, while Aunty and I wandered around the saturday berkeley farmers' market, I purchased the fresh produce I needed and asked her about her thoughts on alternate beans to use in the recipe. Aunty is five years older than I, and thus the keeper of this much more familial food knowledge, so I value her opinion highly. Also, if there is anyone in the world who is capable of detecting the slightist bit of ANYTHING in a particular dish, and capable of reporting on it accurately, the person in my life like this is my sister (the monkey's aunty, thus the title). She suggested using some heirloom beans she had in her cupboard, and we agreed to a swap of ingredients for finished product.

These beans were absolutely beautiful. They looked like little spotted horses or something, which was rather hilarious to me because the recipe calls for pintos in the basic version. They need to have a bath overnight, so I soaked these as soon as they entered the house, in preparation for their big day tomorrow. This is often the hardest step to making this soup, beacause the alternate (canned) will not give you the same results. I say this now, so please listen, SOAK YOUR OWN BEANS for this dish and you will be rewarded. I tried it the "other" way once, when I was young and stupid (in college). It was an immediate culinary lesson in "good things come to those who wait." I had at least 20 years of experience eating this soup, so the "canned" version tasted like......canned. It is quite possible that if you should ignore the warning, it would still turn out to be the best canned soup you ever had.

With the beans soaked, I rinse them and place them in an 8 quart pot with about two quarts of veggie stock. Then I assemble the rest of the ingredients to look at an optical illusion that is part of this dish (the first picture up top). Everytime I see the ingredients all laid out before me I think: "I'm gonna need a much larger pot than this one, just look at all this stuff!" But I have something called faith. Faith that comes from witnessing miracles. Faith that with only an inch or so of the pot sides still showing, I can add a whole cabbage into this soup. Okay, faith really that cabbage is just like the rest of the universe, made up of alot of space. The reality is that you do not just plop in the head of cabbage. Doing this, after chopping and adding everything else, would indeed displace enough volume to slosh over the sides. But sliced up fine, minced even, and added slowly in batches, you can indeed add the entire thing.

Put the butter and olive oil into the pot with the soaked beans and stock (in this case veggie) and start boiling on the stove. Chop the onions, celery, potatoes and parsley and add. Some garlic too if you feel like it (I did, and usually do). Now, time for a medium (15 ounce) can of diced tomatoes. Yes, I did say canned. Of critical importance here is the addition of that concentrated juice, so doing this imparts that tangy acid component needed here. Note: that is a medium can being added to an 8 quart pot. This is not at all a tomato based soup, like the one most americans associate with minestrone. You can substitute fresh tomatoes, but I highly recommend doing it with garden tomatoes from your yard and making sure to use all the juice. For making it the first time, use the can of diced tomatoes to calibrate for yourself what this does to the soup. Now, with all of the veggies except the cabbage added, add grated romano. And finally, slice and dice that cabbage, and add very carefully.......

Put it on a low simmer for at least three hours. The cabbage will disappear from sight, as will most of the potatoes and celery. When this has happenned, add the pesto and cook for another hour. While waiting for this last bit, and trying not to eat it before it is done, I recommend baking a nice sourdough loaf of something. Which of course means you just have to dip the bread into the soup, to do any final tasting adjustments, right?

This last time, I baked a loaf of olive bread, with olives that were the first harvested from the monkey's tree. She has a manzanillo olive growing at G&G's down in Reedley that had a first crop of 36 olives this past fall. It wasn't many, but certainly worth experimenting with. We cured them over the last few months and I used about a dozen of them in the dough. Very, very satisfying personally, because to me sourdough and olives are a match made in heaven. With both the sourdough and the olives coming from sources I had a part in producing, I was beside myself with the combination getting me one step closer to making it from 100% family sourced ingredients. And how about the cool lines on the bread from using my new brotformen I got for being a good boy this past year? Now I can make loaves that don't just taste respectable but have a recognizable form.

Round about 6:30pm, after sampling the soup with bread several times, I put some ravioli dough trimmings into a small pot of simmering minestrone. When this was finished, I grated a large bowl of romano and settled down to the first heaping bowl. Warm, oh yeah. Nourishing, brothy veggies, grassy herbs and yummy sheepy goodness, you bet. If any of this appeals to you, then get out your pen and paper, or click and drag, copy and paste, whatever it is. As far as I'm concerned, this is the best soup I make, at the best time of year for making it (seasonable availability and reason to make something else with beans, cabbage and potatoes) and is a staple in my family that dates back at least five generations on my father's side. If I didn't share this one, and now, I could not consider this blog at all realistic in its portrayal of what we eat, because we will be eating this one for the next week.

And since folks appreciate an actual recipe, and I have a desire in keeping my new friends interested, I offer this as a generic outline for making this soup.

Minestrone
1 lb of dried pinto, pink or cranberry beans
1-3 quarts of chicken stock
1/4 cup butter
1/4 cup olive oil
2 medium onions (yellow or white or both)
2-6 cloves of garlic (optional here, lighter on the garlic is more great grandmas style on this one)
6 or so stalks of celery (more if using smaller heart sections)
4-5 big white potatoes (russet, red or white, yukon gold)
1 bunch italian parsley
15 ounce can of stewed or diced tomatoes (fresh tomatoes will work too but make sure to use plenty of salt and include all juices - summertime is best for using fresh)
1/4 - 1/2 lb of Pecorino Romano
1 smallish green cabbage

Pesto fixings:
1 cup chopped basil
1 Tbsp - 1/4 cup pine nuts
Parmesan
salt and olive oil to taste

Soak beans overnight. Or for two nights (especially for the harder pintos) if you have the luxury time and memory to do so. Rinse and drain soaked beans and transfer to an 8 quart pot. Add water and chicken stock until at least a third full. Adjust salt according to how much stock you use. Bring to a boil. Add olive oil and butter. Add chopped onions, celery and garlic. Peel potatoes and dice to no bigger than a fingertip and add (note: DO NOT add actual fingertips.) Mince parsley and add. Add tomatoes and any juices possible. Add about a cup of grated romano. (if you are using a Microplane this may turn out to be closer to 2 cups; the pre-grating weight is 3-5 ounces regardless of grater used.) Cut main stem from cabbage, slice very thin and add (in batches as it will be hard to incorporate at this point.) Cook together, covered with occasional stirrings, at a simmer for a few hours. Add 1/4 - 1/2 cup of fresh pesto (go with more like 1/4 cup if using store bought), stir and simmer for at least another hour. Remove one meals worth to another pot, add tagliarini (egg fettucine will work fine) and cook until pasta is soft (soup is usually getting paste-like before adding pasta, so add some water to compensate for what the cooking will take, more for dried, less for fresh.) Serve with a fresh loaf of your favorite sourdough and copious quantities of grated romano. Oh yeah, just about any wine will go great with this.

Enjoy!

Please let me know what you think if you make this one. The folks who I have given this recipe to refer to it simply as "the soup" then their eyes get glazed over as they manage a Homer-esque "Mmmmm, minestrone." If I had a dime for each individual person I have served this to and they enjoyed it, I would be a......well, at the very least 10 bucks richer, or about halfway on my way to making another batch.

leeky butternut and mushroom soup, and lots of boiling

While oatmeal was simmering this morning I chopped some onions and celery and started sauteing (in another pot, not to worry) with some olive oil. In went some carrot and an ear of Brentwood sweet corn. Garden oregano and thyme, bay from a hillside in Novato, and sage from the store completed the spicing. This boiled together for some 2 hours, the solids were removed and then it was reduced a bit. The bowl on the right represents what became veggie stock (1 quart for now, 1 for later) and the other produce represents the rest of our soup for tonight. I was feeling somewhat vegan today and was inspired to make a soup based on one from last fall involving roasted butternuts, sauteed leeks, chantrelles, sage, butter, and a fresh fresno red pepper. It was really good. Topped with creme fraische it was awesome.

Well with todays thinking being vegan, I could use the veggie stock, but had to brown my fresh sage in some soy garden spread. Out came the sage leaves, in went the leeks and some brown mushrooms for near ten minutes. The butternuts had been halved and seeded, coated with olive oil and baked at 350 for about an hour and a half. These were scraped, placed in a larger pot with the sauteed items and covered with stock. This was mashed together and boiled for a few hours during which Peggy Hill and her sidekick Cayenne came by. The soup was ladled out and blended in batches until smooth. This next photo shows the unblended soup, some cherry infused ginger syrup, and working toward being candied, some cubes of fresh ginger cooling in simple syrup. Collectively I have spent nearly a third of my day staring at these three vessels and boiling some type of root, fruit, stem, leaf, or cob.



Tonight we will feast on the soup, maybe with a side of steamed carrots and fresh corn on the cob. There's not much of that fig tart left so we might be forced to drizzle some cherry ginger syrup over vanilla soy dream while we wait for our candied ginger to finish making itself.