You be the Sommelier

Pretty soon it's going to be all root vegetables and winter squash at the farmer's market. There are still greens, however, even if they are of the sturdy and bitter variety. One of my favorites is escarole. Escarole is a bitter green, technically a kind of endive, and in the chicory family.

I've eaten escarole many times, but always passively, if served to me at a restaurant, for example. My favorite local farmer Bill Maxwell started growing escarole last year and I discovered that it's great in soups. He had escarole on Saturday, for the first time this fall, and I pounced.

I wanted to do something simple with this specimen, as it is so lovely. So I finely minced a third of a garlic clove, cooked it in a little neutral oil, added a few drops of fish sauce (we're all out of anchovies), some salt, and then the escarole, which I chopped into large pieces. Add a small glug of stock, stir, stir, taste, a little more salt, and that's it. Perfect with some bread or rice as a light dinner, or as a side dish. I ate this as the main course, and then had some cheese afterward.

So that's it, that's the dish. Please, you be the sommelier. What would you drink with this quickly braised escarole? Share your pairing ideas in the comments and I'll tell you what I drank and how it worked out soon after.

You be the Sommelier

Spanish mackerel are in season and the Blue Moon fish people are bringing them to market. Spanish mackerel are not as pungently "fishy" as other mackerel, but they are certainly of that type. Their flesh is more of a cream color than the oily gray of Boston mackerel, for example, and they have beautiful silvery skin that is flecked with distinctive yellow dots.

This is a fish that children will eat, assuming it is very fresh and simply prepared. Last weekend at the market I saw Spanish mackerel for the first time this summer. Bill Maxwell, the farmer whose produce is far and away the best at the market (he has no website so this will have to do), had corn for the first time too. A simple summer meal came into focus, things that we love to eat, and that we hoped our little daughters would enjoy too.

Broiled Spanish mackerel - nothing but a slight brushing with good quality soy sauce, a sprinkle of salt after it comes out of the oven. You can blend mirin with the soy too, perhaps some grated ginger, and so on.

Boiled corn - I read somewhere that the best way to boil corn is to drop the corn in the boiling water and turn off the heat immediately, cover, and let the corn sit for a couple minutes, that's it. Based on these results, I'm a fan.

Kirby cucumbers with a bit of vinegar - thin slices, toss with a little salt, a small glug of white or rice vinegar, a little thinly sliced red onion. Toss again and let sit for at least a half hour.

That's the dish - an early summer dinner of broiled Spanish mackerel with corn and vinegary cucumbers. You be the sommelier - what wine would you serve with this meal? I'll let you know what we drank and how it worked out at the end of the comments.

Oh, by the way - the little daughters devoured their fish, and the vegetables too. And I hadn't even starved them for two days prior, or anything like that.

You be the Sommelier

The market is really getting good now. Peas are in full swing, and yellow and zucchini squash are here too. The other night I made a quick, easy, healthy, and delicious pasta dish. The idea was to take fresh sweet shell peas, toss with finely chopped mint, enrich with a bit of ricotta, and turn this into a "sauce" for rigatoni. And since the yellow squash looked so enticing, I added it too.


Okay, that's the dish, rigatoni with peas, yellow squash, ricotta, and mint. You be the sommelier - what wine would you serve with this? C'mon, don't be shy. Doesn't matter if you're a professional sommelier or a home cook like me. This dish hits the table and you can open anything you like - what would it be?

I'll tell you what I came up with and whether or not it worked well at the end of the comments.

Tomatoes Provençal (sort of)

August brings some serious goodness to our local farmer's market. Check out these sugar plums and apricots - my two and a half year old practically tore the bag out of my hand when I got them home. Actually, these might be a bit late this year because of all of the rain we've had this summer. I think sugar plums typically arrive in July.

Eat them or paint them?

As wonderful as those plums are, tomatoes are my favorite food-thing about August and September. There's been a lot of talk about tomato blight this year, about how the crop will be small and very expensive. Crossing my fingers that this will not be the case, and so far the markets seem pretty well stocked, prices seem about normal.

I got my first heirlooms of the summer this past weekend from Bill Maxwell's farm in New Jersey. These tomatoes need nothing, they're utterly delicious on their own. We chose three varieties, and I cannot remember their names - I think they are green stripe, purple velvet, and the third one escapes me. A few drops of Peter Liem's amazing olive oil, a sprinkle of salt, and voila - the best thing I've cooked all year.

Keep it simple.

Everyone knows that fresh tomatoes can be finicky with wine, and vice-versa. Tannins and fresh tomatoes don't get along so well. We ate these heirlooms with a very fine bottle of white Provence wine, the 2006 Domaine Henri Milan Vin de Table Le Grand Blanc, about $30, Imported by Meilleurs Vins de Provence and Domaine Select Wine & Estates. Disclaimer - I received this wine as a sample from the generous folks at Meilleurs Vins de Provence. I also shared some friendly and informative emails with one of the owners, and viewed photographs of him and his son tasting wine in a Provence cellar. He has not yet sent me a Rolex, but I'm working on him.

Milan farms biodynamically and makes, in my opinion, some of the most beautiful wines of the region, white or red. The soils for the white wines supposedly resemble some of the Grand Cru plots of Chablis, with blue marl and limestone. Le Grand Blanc is a blend of 30% Grenache Gris, 30% Chardonnay, 20% Roussanne, 10% Muscat, and 10% Rolle (aka Vermentino). It is fermented and raised for a year in used barrique.


The nose is very fresh with pears and oxidative notes of orange peel. It is airy and broad, clean and pure, potent and lively, a very beautiful nose. Later on there is a bit of barrel toast and caramel on the nose, and that's fine in this case. The fruit is vivid and almost tropical, with a rich oily texture. This is a well balanced and complex wine with an intense nutty finish that keeps crawling up the nostrils. It went beautifully with the tomatoes - it is neither tannic nor acidic. I know that $30 might sound like a lot for a VdT from Provence, but this is one of those amazing-wines-that-terrify-the-INAO-and-so-is-denied-appellation-status wines, and it is worth every penny.

A Favorite August Recipe

By nature I am a non-recipe cook. I use cookbooks and recipes only when I need specific information or a certain technique. One of the things I love about cooking is experimentation, the freedom to be creative. But there is one recipe that I follow faithfully at around this time every summer: Chicken Purloo. I found it in the NY Times when I was looking for okra ideas. Although it is almost absurdly involved, it's worth it.

Mini eggplant arrive at my farmer's market in August.

Since this is essentially the only recipe I follow, I get kind of anal with it, prepping carefully and laying everything out in a nice mise-en-place.

Carefully arranged diced vegetables, with leather-bound copy of Freud's The Ego and the Id.

Purloo is a New Orleans/African style baked rice dish. There are layers of vegetables, rice, and chicken that cook together in a big pot. You begin by browning chicken pieces - I used to cut up a whole chicken but I found that the white meat parts don't respond well to this kind of cooking, so now I go with thighs and legs. The foundation of the dish is something that is apparently very common in New Orleans cooking - a dice of green pepper, celery, and onion. Better to pronounce it "on-yown," like Justin Wilson used to. This, along with eggplant, a bay leaf, some dried thyme and crushed chili flakes, becomes the first layer in a large pot.

First layer of cooked vegetables. Already the house smells great.

Then comes a layer of rice, toasted in oil to minimize sticking when the dish is baked. After that comes a layer of okra and smoked ham cooked with tomatoes and a bit of wine. I use canned San Marzano tomatoes because they are the greatest sauce tomato that I know of. Why don't I use fresh tomatoes? I 'm following a recipe here...

Tasso (smoked ham) and tomatoes provide flavor and aroma, okra acts as a thickener.

Lastly, the browned chicken and some stock. Cover the pot and into the oven for a little over an hour. Let it rest for 10 minutes or so, take out the chicken so you can stir the real bounty, the rice and all of the vegetables.

Moist, tender chicken and highly perfumed rice. Need I say more?

My wife hates when I make this dish because it heats up the house on an already hot August day. But she does love eating Purloo. I suggest doubling the recipe - it keeps well in the fridge and packs great lunches.And now, let's get down to the real point of this post, the wine. I've tried several wines over the years with Chicken Purloo, all them perfectly fine. But this year I hit on a truly excellent companion for this dish, by my tastes anyway. I'm going to tell you what it is, but before I do that (in the comment section in a day or so), let me ask you this: what would you drink with this dish?

Pairing Wine with Asparagus

First of all, I think this whole asparagus are impossible to pair with wine thing is exaggerated. They require a bit more consideration than say, roast chicken, but they're just asparagus, and they're so delicious this time of year. But asparagus have developed this reputation as impossible to enjoy with wine, and I think it's not so.
The biggest mistake is to pair asparagus with a fruit-driven wine, which means avoiding most American wine, and most new world wine in general. Asparagus are the anti-fruit, and they don't work well with fruity wine. Please, whatever you do, be very careful mixing asparagus with rosé wine. Honestly, you can hurt yourself and your guests with this pairing. It's not just that asparagus are not fruity - roast chicken is not fruity either, and yet a roast chicken pairs beautifully with Beaujolais and other fruit-driven wines. We're talking about the anti-fruit, here. When serving asparagus, I try to go with wines that somehow echo their chlorophyll, grassy, slightly cheesy essence.

For me, the classic pairing is Sauvignon Blanc. I'm talking about wines from Sancerre or Touraine, for example. Not from Cheverny, though, as those wines, while tasty, can be more akin to the New Zealand pungent style of Sauvignon Blanc, which I think when combined with asparagus is simply too much cat pee and grass for any household to deal with in one evening. I'm thinking Clos Roche Blanche Touraine Sauvignon Blanc, or a good Sancerre.

But this spring I've tried to branch out a bit, to varying degrees of success. I pictured a dry Alsace Gewurtztraminer and imagined it would be great, its pungency somehow working with asparagus. The jury is still out on that one. The Qupé Marsanne from the previous post was served with fish but also with asparagus, and it worked - the wine is mineral-driven and didn't conflict at all with asparagus. But tonight, my friends, I think I hit on something really good.

First, I should tell you that although I used to do things like parboil or saute, season with sesame oil, bonito shavings, or parmesan cheese, or otherwise get fancy with asparagus, now it's all about simplicity. BrooklynLady turned me on to roasting asparagus, and I'm hooked. Just don't over cook them and they're great with only a pinch of salt, maybe a dab of butter. If they're in season and farmer's market fresh (the only time we eat them), roast them with nothing at all. Naked asparagus, if you will. 15-20 minutes at 400 degrees for asparagus of medium circumference, and they're slightly firm and totally toothsome.
Last night for our pan-fried Porgy and roast asparagus I had already settled on Sauvignon Blanc, when it hit me. Sparkling wine. Not Pinot Noir based, but a Blanc de Blancs. But not Chenin Blanc either - too much fruit. I opened what is still my favorite under $20 sparkling wine, the NV Domaine de Montbourgeau Crémant du Jura, and it was delicious, a great pairing. Although I've heard talk about Savagnin in this wine, I think it is all Chardonnay. It is a soil-driven wine from a great producer in L'Étoile, one of the four Jura appellations. The nose is earthy but fresh and pure, and the palate is snappy with acidity and bright with chalk-infused citrus fruit. Nothing here to offend the anti-fruit. And there is something about the texture of the sparkle that just worked perfectly with roast asparagus. But maybe that's because sparkling wine works with anything. To be tried again, if there is still asparagus at the farmer's market next week, and there should be.

Pickled Herring...but what Wine?

In March and April, and then again in November and December the fishmonger at my local farmer's market has herring. For years I stared at the tan and silvery fillets without buying. Then I got into pickling. Last year at this time I first tried my hand at pickled herring, and now I'm hooked. The fish are cheap, incredibly healthy, and very tasty when pickled.

It's taken me three seasons worth of herring to figure out how to make them taste the way I want them to. Some recipes ask that you cure the fish in salt, then soak in water to remove the salt before pickling them. I haven't enjoyed them this way - no matter how many times I change the soaking water, the fish are always too salty. I've learned to reduce the amount of salt and sugar in the brine and slightly increase the vinegar to water ratio too. I add juniper berries and a few paper thin slices of lemon and the overall effect is alpine clean. There are many recipes for pickled herring, but here's mine:

Rinse herring fillets (half pound), pat dry, and cut in half on an angle. Bring to a boil 3/4 cup of white vinegar and 1/2 cup water with 2 1/2 tablespoons kosher salt and 2 1/2 tablespoons sugar; 6 juniper berries, 6 black pepper corns, and 1 bay leaf. Boil rapidly for 1 minute, pour brine into a non-reactive bowl to cool. Allow to come to room temperature (I speed this by placing the bowl into a larger bowl filled with cold water).While brine is cooling, put something jazzy on the stereo - I'm recommending Monk's Dream or Lee Morgan's Sidewinder, but it's your call. Slice a white onion very thinly and layer some of the slices at the bottom of a glass jar, then a slice of lemon, then cover with a layer of herring. Repeat. When brine is cool, remove the bay leaf, snap fingers to the music and pour into the jar. Cover tightly, put in the fridge, and forget about it for a few days.

Here's an important question - what wine do you drink with pickled herring? The Swedes pair with Akvavit. My Jewish ancestors I'm guessing paired mostly with Metamucil. Typical seafood wines like Muscadet or Chablis just seem wrong. Too much acid, and the flavors would grate on each other. Poulsard? Now there's a thought. But maybe that's just because I'm so nuts for Poulsard now that I'd drink it with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A Blanc de Blancs Champagne? It would be overwhelmed. I think that this is one of the true wine pairing conundrums - what wine would taste good with pickled herring?

The other day I hit it, when there was merely one serving left in my jar, which I enjoyed tremendously as a late lunch. Ready for this? Any last guesses before I reveal? Fino or Manzanilla Sherry. There it is, and it works beautifully. The flavors are bold enough not to be overwhelmed, and briny enough to work with the fish. The oxidized nature of the wine somehow works with the pickle. Who can explain these things, really? Trust me, try it, even if you have to wait until November.

Overlooked Farmer's Market Bounty #2

Summer's not done yet, folks, and some of the best produce is peaking right now at the markets. Okra is one of my favorite vegetables in late August and all through September. At my favorite vegetable monger's stand, I seem to be one of the only people digging through the bins looking for choice specimens. It's me and a smattering of Caribbean and African ladies. Yup, I just used the word "monger."

Classic okra dishes in this country include gumbo and fried okra (simply dipping them in buttermilk, rolling in salted cornmeal and frying). I love a dish called Purloo, an African baked rice dish that is loaded with okra. I got that recipe from the NY Times Dining section a few years ago. In Africa okra is shredded and used in soups both for flavor and as a thickener. And Bhindi Masala is one of my favorite south Indian dishes. I will never forget the version I was served in Kerala just over 10 years ago. It was fiery hot but mellowed with a bit of coconut milk.

Okra is full of vitamins and minerals, it's a versatile ingredient, and it tastes great. So why aren't you cooking with okra? My guess is that you don't like the "goo" that comes out when you chop it. Or maybe you find okra to be a little tough. Or maybe you don't have a simple recipe that features okra - all of them that I mentioned above require a bit of work. Well let's deal with all of these issues lickety-split, because you there are only a few more weeks of okra (in my neck of the woods, anyway), and you need to bring this into your life.

First of all, look for okra that are bright green and free of blemishes. There are small hairs on the outside that are actually quite prickly when the okra are fresh. It's not unusual to wear a plastic bag on your hand when picking out okra. Bigger okra can be tough, even if you deep fry them. Dig through the bin, parrying the expert fingers of the Caribbean ladies, and take the small okra. I don't like them to be bigger than the smallest one in the picture.

Secondly, the goo. When you cook okra, there is going to be some goo, and that's just life, so roll with it. When you get comfortable with okra, and if you enjoy it enough, you might incorporate this into your dishes - it's a natural thickener for stews, soups, or sauces. Imagine pureeing stewed okra with hot chilis and coconut milk, and using that to stew some chicken thighs or chunks of beef.

If the goo really bothers you, you can minimize it by cooking the okra with lots of acid. For example, and here's maybe the simplest okra recipe in the world, chop the okra and stew them in good canned tomatoes, garlic, salt, and one fresh serrano or jalepeno chili pepper that you poke holes in with a fork. If you use small okra, this will be tender and delicious in 15 minutes total, the goo mitigated by the acids in the tomatoes. Some rice or a baguette, a nice Alsace Gewurztraminer or Pinot Gris, and you're all set.

Lately I've been pickling okra. Not for long term storage, quick pickles that last in the fridge for a few weeks. They work as an accompaniment to most any late summer meal. They also make really nice gifts when you're invited to dinner or brunch. Pickling okra is utterly simple, and you can experiment with spices to come up with your own okra pickle. Here's mine:

You need one glass jar with a good seal, washed and dried. About a pound of okra, small ones only, washed and patted dry. Boil in a heavy pot about a half cup of water and 3/4 cup white vinegar. Saturate this solution with salt and sugar. I prefer a more salty okra pickle, so I use about 1/3 cup of kosher salt and a bit less of sugar. You can play with the ratio, though.

While this is coming to a boil, put the okra in the jar. I find it easier if you begin by putting them upside down, then add a second layer right side up. Add seasonings to the okra in the jar before you pour in the boiling brine. I add chunks of fresh garlic, whole black peppercorns, dried chili pepper, a bay leaf, and coriander seeds. Pour in the boiling brine. Allow the water to settle in, top off a bit, and seal the jar. Put it in the fridge and forget about it for a few days, then dig in. The bottle at left has been opened and some of the brine spilled out - the liquid level should be higher.These are great with fried fish, sandwiches, anywhere you'd eat a pickle. My 19 month old daughter walks around the house eating them by themselves.

Here's a link to Overlooked Farmer's Market Bounty #1 - Fava Beans.

Overlooked Farmer's Market Bounty #1

There are piles of fava beans at the market beginning sometime in June all the way through the summer. They look so invitingly green and healthy. I've seen them for years and never taken them home - what would I do with them? Isn't there a lot of shelling and peeling involved? Yes, there is, but I've since learned that it's totally worth it. I only wish I had written this a few weeks ago when the beans were still young enough that you could eat them raw. You'll have to wait until next year for that.

I've used favas in vegetable soups and they're toothsome and savory. Lately I've been puréeing them with great results, and you can season and serve this purée however you want. Here is the basic technique, as adapted from The Art of Simple Food, the excellent cookbook by Alice Waters:

1) Get the beans out of the pod. This is more fun if someone helps you. I would pair this activity with a nice Crémant du Jura, or maybe a crisp glass of Chablis.2) Remove the outer skin from each fava bean. I'm not going to dance around the truth here pal - this is a total pain in the @$$. The bean skins are edible, and for soup I wouldn't bother with this step. But for purée, there's no way around it. It's quite satisfying to see the incredibly green shiny beans pile up in your bowl. If that sight alone doesn't work for you then remember what Principal Skinner once recommended for getting through a similarly mind numbing task: "See how many you can do in 10 minutes and then try to break that record." A pairing for this activity? I recommend something simple, yet restorative. Maybe open one of those 2002 Bourgognes you've been saving?3) Cook the skinned beans until they are easy to mush. You can cook the beans in olive oil and other seasonings, but that doesn't make sense to me, as good olive oil doesn't like to be heated up. I simply cook the beans in canola oil and a little salt, and add good olive oil to the purée. This is quick - somewhere between 5-10 minutes. You'll need something pungent while doing this, like a cold New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.
4) Season the beans with salt. You can add whatever fresh herbs you like here. I think mint or marjoram work perfectly, thyme is good too. A small amount of garlic and/or onion is also good, but cook them with the beans, I wouldn't add them raw. I don't like the way this turns out using a blender and I still don't have a food processor, so I use the same food mill that I used for BrooklynBabyGirl's food. Works like a charm. Combine the purée of beans and herbs with your best extra-virgin olive oil until you get the texture you want. If you can drink wine while doing this, then you're some sort of Hindu deity. You can serve this purée as hors d'oeuvre by spreading a thin layer on crisp bread. After trying several breads, my favorite is a toasted slice of baguette. The flavor of the puree is green and mellow but also nutty and savory. Something bright is good with this hors d'oeuvre, like a squirt of lemon. Even better is pickled red onion. I stumbled on a great wine pairing for this dish: dry Sherry. The nutty saline oxidized flavors of the cold sherry work perfectly with the green-earthy and nutty beans. We recently ate these with a bottle of N.V. Bodegas Hidalgo Manzanilla La Gitana, $10 (500 ml) and people were using their fingernails to scrape their plates, licking the insides of their wine glasses. If you want to try something new and completely delicious, serve this purée with skirt steak. It works, just trust me this one time. The two types of savory really complement each other. Again, something bright and acidic is important here, or else it's savory piled on savory with no lift. I heartily recommend the same pickled red onions. Or, you could bust out your Fleur de sel or other fine sea salt here. A lighter style of red works great with this dish, something snappy. Try a good Beaujolais or a Loire Cheverny. We went with the 2006 Coudert Fleurie Clos de la Roilette, $21, and beautiful music was made that night, friends. Once you make the puree, I'm sure you'll come up with your own interesting ways of serving it. I'm telling you, work your way past the peeling because this stuff is beautiful - it's completely healthy, it's versatile, it's delicious, it gets better with a day or two in the fridge, and you'll be the only one in your group of friends making it. Unless your group includes an Egyptian. At their house you might be served foul medames, a delicious version of this dish made with cumin, tomatoes, and onions. But I have no idea how to make that dish.