Hickory Syrup

My mother-in-law knows that my husband and I appreciate locally made and manufactured foodstuffs (and nonfoodstuffs for that matter, as our Libbey glass dishware can attest). That is why our Christmas gift from her included a gift basket of locally made cheese, chocolate, baked goods, and beverages. It was probably one of the best Christmas presents I've ever received in the way that it was so catered to our tastes. It went over so well that, for his birthday, my husband received a bottle of Soaring Hill Hickory Syrup from a shop in Tecumseh, MI.

The company is located in Adrain, MI, in the city where my husband I met and went to undergraduate school together. I have a lot of good times bottled up in Adrian, and I had high hopes for this sugary concoction. Thus, when a weekend morning of leisure breakfasting presented itself (and those aren't easy to come by), the pancakes were made and all three of us--the husband, the son, and I-- all sat down for a taste test.

Neither of us had ever tasted hickory syrup before and we were a little skeptical. According to the label, hickory syrup is not tapped as maple syrup is. Rather, hickory bark is boiled with sugar to produce a syrup consistency. I was hoping that even if it didn't taste all that great as a syrup, we could use it as a marinade for tofu or tempeh or even ham or chicken for the boys.

All that worry was for nought, though, because hickory syrup is smooth and sweet and tangy and delightful. It's sweetness is light, while the hickory taste gives it depth and interest. Best of all, this treat comes with a ecological stamp of approval. If syrup wasn't slow enough drizzling from bottle to plate, this locally-made, small-business-created syrup is slow food at its best. I hope that you too will consider keeping Soaring Hill in business. I know I plan on doing my part.

Sweet Potato/Butternut casserole

Like many foods I adore, the sweet potato came to me only as an adult. I never had a holiday meal in which yams were present as a kid. But there's something about this little tuber that I can't deny. Perhaps it is the orange coloration. Perhaps the way it melts on the tongue when combined with butter and cinnamon. Or that it makes one hell of a french fry.


In the midst of December's Devil-may-care month of the Northern American continent, Art discovered a southern food recipe blog with some good ideas. Here was a casserole that required fair amounts of squash and yams, and would you imagine: we have a crap-ton of both, particularly that bushel of squash from the orchard. So Art made it. And it was heavenly. He thought it was a delightful twist to the usual sweetened yams. I thought it was delightfully similar in taste to my beloved pumpkin pie. Even the seven-year-old had to agree: this orangish goop with the crunchy topping, it works. Art made it several more times over the month, and then, in a flash of inspiration--I decided to have a go at it for Christmas dinner at my parent's house.

Praline Butternut Squash and Sweet Potato Casserole
Adjusted from the Kitchen of Deep South Dish 
serves 6
1 butternut squash
3 large sweet potatoes
1/2 cup sugar
Dash allspice
Dash cinnamon
2 tablespoons vanilla
3 eggs, beaten
Approximately 1/2 cup of milk

1/3 cup unsalted butter, melted
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1/3 cup unbleached all purpose or wheat flour
1 cup finely chopped pecans (I beat the heck out of them with a meat tenderizer)
1. Preheat oven to 400 degrees to roast the squash. Slice the butternut squash in half, scoop out the seeds and fibers, and rinse. Place the squash on a cookie sheet covered in tin foil. Rub butter on the fleshy side and cook face-down until you can pierce straight through with a fork, about an hour.


2. Boil water in a large pan. Peel the sweet potatoes. You can quarter them if you have the strength and a very sharp knife but be careful not to cut your thumbs off. In fear of losing an appendage? Just toss them in the water whole. It takes a little longer to cook but you don't have that messy hospital bill to worry about. Boil until fork goes through easily.


3. When you are ready to make the casserole, preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Spray a 2 quart casserole dish with non-stick cooking spray. Scoop the flesh out of the squash with an ice cream scoop and add it and the sweet potatoes into a mixing bowl. Mix until smooth; add in the sugar, allspice, cinnamon, vanilla and eggs. Blend well and add just enough milk to moisten (I don't think we've ever needed the milk). Pour the thick mix into the casserole dish. 


4. Now, on to the praline topping. Melt the butter. While it melts, mix brown sugar, flour and pecans in a small bowl. Pour the butter into the brown sugar mixture and stir. Sprinkle over the top of the casserole. Bake 45 minutes - 1 hour.


Of course, my Christmas version did not taste as good as when Art did it in Cleveland. The reason: the Deep Dish informs readers that the topping ingredients are for a double batch, so I halved everything for the topping. Art did not and I never will again. Even after I added the extra brown sugar to the top, though, it didn't taste quite right. I blame the fact that my mom's casserole dish is deep and round, while ours is shallow and oval. The ratio of topping to veggies just seems better in a shallower dish. Overall, though, a definite keeper. As my son said, "I could have squash every night!" 


How about that.

The sauce! The sauce!

Still, I am horribly behind on recipes. Every time I think I've caught up, there's another card added to the stack. In current events, the boys and I have decided to do cultural food months. November was Mexican month, as Garet will try anything as long as you tell him it's Mexican. You see, he's part Mexican and he's very into genealogical awareness.December was supposed to be Canadian month, but alas, Canada's eat pretty much the same things we do (with the exception of Poutine and Caribou). Thus, December is North American month, so we can experiment with southern dishes, for lack of Caribou. Obviously, not every day will be a culinary experiment in the region of choice, but we try to do it at least one or twice a week. Last month went really well and I have high hopes for this month.

Coincidentally, I am behind enough on the blog that I haven't shared any of November's Mexican masterpieces. Next week marks the beginning of winter break, though. As a matter of fact, today is my last day at the internship, which is a sad yet happy revelation. Soon, I will be allowed the option to sleep in, at least for a little bit. And by sleep in, I mean remain in bed until about 8, when the kid will insist I get up regardless. That being said, I will be trying to submit almost daily contributions to the blog to get it more up to date with what's happening in my kitchen. The excitement is mounting.

Until then, least's go back to the beginning of the recipe stack, to august, when the tomatoes were reading high and red on their vines. In fact, this little recipe goes hand in hand with my eggplant meatball fetish, because what does better with meatballs than a pot of homemade spaghetti sauce. This recipe comes to us from one of my favorite author's, and the very one who brought you the pizza dough I am so fond of using... Barbara Kingsolver, as found in her book "Animal Vegetable Miracle." Here it is, the Kate-ified version.

(pictured here with eggplant parm)

Spaghetti Sauce a la Kingsolver
(This is not a canning recipe)

10c. tomatoes
1 12 oz. can roasted red pepper with garlic (clearanced at Aldi!)
3 small peppers
1 onion
1/4 c. basil
1/8 c. honey
1 T oregano
about 1 T salt
1/2 T thyme
1/2 T garlic powder
1/2 T parsley
1/2t pepper (I used 1/2 cayenne)
1/2 t cinnamon
1/8 t nutmeg

1. Peal tomato skins off. You could find a quick and easy way of doing this, or you could sit there for a very long time stripping raw tomatoes, as I did. If you use closet-ripened tomatoes, as one batch I did was, you may want to add a few canned tomatoes to the mix to achieve a normal looking red hue to the sauce. There's a chance, otherwise, that it will come out orange. Then, put the tomato and the red peppers into a blender and puree.

2. In large pot, cook diced onion and peppers to soft. You could dice the onion yourself, or make your pseudo house husband do it, that is, if you too have one.

3.Add puree tomato/red pepper mix to pot, along with basil, honey, oregano, salt, thyme, garlic powder, parsley, pepper, cinnamon, and nutmeg.

4. Boil and then turn head down to simmer. simmer 2-3 hours, until sauce has reached desired consistency. Freeze in containers if desired.

So here it is, after so much waiting, a delicious homemade sauce that canned sauce can only wish it was. Goes very well with eggplant meatballs.

At the Farm

This isn't exactly a vegetarian manifesto of a post, more of a local food manifesto, really. On the first of November, my unpaid internship gave me something to sink my teeth into, literally. The producer I work for decided to do a segment, to air on thanksgiving, for the Cleveland-based tv show called Applause.

In all honesty, I have no tv show watching capabilities in Cleveland, but I've seen a lot of raw footage from shoots before, and it's quite a show. It's one of the few shows that make me wish I could afford (or had any sort of time) to watch tv. And the people I work for are fantastic people, very kind and generous and friendly, even when I'm not at my best. I guess I might be a wee bit biased. Anyway.

My producer invited me to shoot with him at the Miller's farm in Pennsylvania, about a two hour drive from the heart of Cleveland. First, though, we had to pick up the camera man and stop off at a Starbucks. What road trip is complete without Starbucks?

Quickly, the passing scenery flashing its way across the back windows of the TV van went from urban to suburban to "do people actually live here?" We pulled into the driveway a half hour behind schedule, which, incidentally, was still a half hour ahead of planned scheduling (radio/tv people always allow some leeway time). Immediately, the Miller's welcomed us to their farm. Cows mooed in the distance. Hay bales sat in tidy bundles. And hey, was that a sheep?

No doubt about it, this was a farm, and not just any farm. The Millers raise grass-fed beef, chicken, turkey, lambs, pigs, and eggs. In this quiet Pennsylvanian setting, we had happened upon the Mecca of the Cleveland local food scene: free range animals.

I must admit, I have been to the farmers market in Shaker Square and seen the pictures on display at the meat tents. "Look how happy this pig's life was!" The pictures say, often with cameos from the farmer's various children accompanying the animals in question. One big happy human-animal family. I'm not sure I quite believed until I saw the cows at the Miller's farm.

 

When these cows moo, they sound contented. The chickens wander, pecking cow pies in the grass, wandering stiff-legged around a small (non-sewage-based) pond. Their eggs are a pretty pastel of brown and white, and as the farmer collects his bounty, they eat, unperturbed while the cows look on, munching clover.

"Come on, girls," the farmer calls and the cows follow. Mooing with curiosity. What will he do this time? Feed us? Let us out into a new pasture? The turkeys mill about, choosing their own blend of wheat and grass, while the farmer talks, with starry eyes, about the sound they make--such a happy sound--when the turkeys are let out to pasture. And the pigs? They love a good ear-scratching as they nose the camera man's pants, the farmers hands, the gaps in the fence bars that separate them from me. They seem to say, "Hey there. Want to play? There's plenty of mud."

Does this sound sappy? Damn straight it does, but it's also true. As a vegetarian who is so because of health and no other reason, I find the peaceful scene of the Miller's farm and their carefree animals has made me a near-convert to PETA-like causes. Who could eat this face?

Or perhaps knowing that this face is one that has known peace in its life makes it particularly good eating. Certainly better eating than a pig with a clipped tail in a room overflowing with pigs, all of whom have never so much as rolled through the mud.

It was a cold day but a good day, and I feel wiser having been a part in it. At the end of the shoot, the Millers and a slew of local Cleveland foodies sat down to a local food feast prepared by the chefs at Fire restaurant. And yes, I got to eat to. What a display. The table was full-out decked with fall cheer and set up in the hay loft of the barn.

But first, we all enjoyed mulled cider with crackers and local cheese inside the Miller's architecturally intriguing farm house in the company of one another and the Miller's two springer spaniels.

The spread atthe feast itself included Miller meatloaf sandwiches on focaccia, Miller beef stew, roasted Miller chicken, roasted veggies with Miller bacon, Cauliflower au Gratin, a mesclun mix salad, firecracker bread (in vase on table), local Ohio wine, and for dessert, an apple cobbler with honey cream on top.

I didn't partake of the meat (obviously) but I usually don't enjoy cauliflower and it was divine. The firecracker bread was crisp with a hint of spice. The salad was tasty with its fresh local greens. And the dessert: I'm not sure what was in it, but I wanted more. And then more. The honey cream only added to my delight. Cream AND honey? I suddenly understand why a land of milk and honey is a cliche for paradise.

I even found myself sampling the veggies cooked with bacon, though I did not eat the bacon. Best brussel sprouts I've ever had. In fact, the stop before we headed back to the land of the Cleve, we stopped in at the veggie farm that was home to these little babies, where we saw the greenhouses in which the salad greens were grown, the field housing not only veggies but two beehives with which to pollinate the crops,and of course,  the sprout plants themselves:









































 Now that looks like something I want to eat.

The show will air this Thanksgiving, with several reairings during the holiday season and an option for online viewing at some point in the near future. Go to WVIZ's website for more info.

Make sure to check it out, though. After that meal, even the barn cat was pleased.