Clockwise from top left: curried turkey salad melts, stuffing omelette, apple pie filling and cinnamon ice cream, turkey tacos, turkey soup, and side dish “pie”
Even the most saintly among us have experienced schadenfreude, the act of taking pleasure in someone else’s misfortune. More often than not, however, I find myself seeking a way to empathize with someone’s achievements.
Unfortunately, the American English lexicon falls short in this capacity. We’re fraught only with the phrase “Good for you” which is as likely to carry authenticity as it is sarcasm, envy or ridicule.
To properly express myself under these circumstances, I must turn to British English and their lovely idiom “Good on you,” which leaves little room for misinterpretation.
This foray into the subtleties of English dialogue might seem silly and off-topic, but I assure you it’s the only way I can possibly reflect my feelings about this matter, namely: There is quite literally nothing that isn’t good about Good Eggs, the online grocer that has returned to my daughter’s elementary school for a second joint fundraiser.
As they did in the fall, Good Eggs plans to offer, for a limited time, 10% of gross sales back to participating Bay Area schools. At Hidden Valley in Marin County’s quaint town of San Anselmo, those funds go directly to the school garden. To participate, just sign up and use the code HIDDENVALLEY at checkout. As an added bonus, Good Eggs will also apply a credit of $15 at the outset—and another $15 for customers who place orders before March 15th.
Good on you, Good Eggs. And good on all of us who participate in this amazing program that benefits local farmers/producers and local schools while putting great food on the table with unparalleled convenience.
Good Eggs offers same day grocery delivery (for orders placed by 1pm) or next-day delivery (for orders placed by midnight). They have a web site and an iOS app that make ordering a breeze. Their extensive catalog of products makes it possible for them to be the sole-source of groceries for even the most discerning families of foodies.
I recently had the pleasure of touring the Good Eggs facility in San Francisco. While soothing music played through the warehouse PA, I marveled at the discipline applied to each food product from the four different temperature zones at it gets hand-inspected before packing. They reject any item with even the slightest imperfection and relegate it to the Good Eggs kitchen, where master chefs repurpose it into lunch for fellow staff members. This virtuous cycle results in food waste numbers of about 4%, besting most grocery stores by a factor of ten, according to my host.
Their packaging department demonstrates a comparable concern for Mother Earth by using compostable, reusable and recycle-able packaging where-ever possible. Customers can leave their packing materials at their door; when the next delivery comes around, they’ll get retrieved and repurposed.
As I was treated to a revitalizing turmeric, ginger and almond milk “tea” from the Good Eggs kitchen, I learned how they intend to enter the market for school lunches and pre-packaged meals with minimal preparation and that they plan to start selling alcohol in the near future.
Good Eggs offers pricing similar to a high-end grocer like Whole Foods with free delivery for orders over $60. They also carry speciality items like Tartine bread and Bi-Rite ice cream, for which they charge a premium.
Small price to pay for not having to queue up for two hours for a loaf of bread or a scoop of ice cream.
There I go with my British English again.
I was recently featured alongside Farmigo organizers from their two other markets—New York and Seattle—in sharing best practices for setting up and growing school-based Farmigo communities.
A perfect accompaniment to a rainy day, this hearty stew will warm you up from the inside out.
1 large yellow onion, diced
1 lb. beef for stew (usually chuck cubes)
6 Italian (pork) sausages, casing removed and cut into cubes
8-12 ounces of strong beer, dry white or red wine
8 cups of beef stock
Two sprigs of fresh rosemary
1 T fennel seeds
2 t ground cumin
1 bay leaf
1 cup of dried pearled barley, washed thoroughly
Generous handful of Cremini mushrooms, sliced
4 C raw spinach, washed (optional)
Salt, pepper and crushed red pepper to taste
In a large soup pot, sauté the beef, sausage and onion over medium-high heat (keeping the alcohol and broth open, ready and nearby) for about five minutes, or until the onions are browned and the meats seared, but not cooked through.
Deglaze the pan with the alcohol, scraping the sides and bottom with a wooden spoon. Next add the broth, turn the heat to high and bring the mixture to a boil. While you’re waiting, add the rosemary, fennel, cumin, and bay leaf.
When the mixture reaches a boil, stir in the barely. Reduce the heat to low, cover and simmer for 60 minutes, or until the beef can be easily separated with a fork, adding water if needed to keep everything covered.
Fifteen minutes before serving, remove the rosemary sprigs and stir in the mushrooms and spinach.
Serve all by itself or with a fresh sprig of rosemary, a pinch of crushed red pepper and some crusty bread. (The photo above features my home-cultured sourdough ciabatta, a recipe which I’ll be sure to share in the near future.)
I appreciate the beautiful and simple notion that in Italian cooking, the same four or five ingredients get remixed into completely different dishes based entirely on subtle changes in preparation.
One of the key ingredients in the Italian food lexicon — and often the most misunderstood — is garlic. Allium sativum, a small, pungent relative of the onion, radically changes its flavor profile based on how you slice it (or press it or crush it) and then does so again based on cooking methods, temperatures and timing. A clove of garlic roasted in foil for 20-30 minutes at 400° while still in its bulb makes a mild and sweet spread for crustini (or a decadent treat when blended into mashed potatoes) while a thinly sliced one releases savory tones when charbroiled atop fish. A teaspoon of pressed garlic gently simmered in olive oil for just a few seconds before forcing it too cool can flavor an entire pot of red sauce whereas that same teaspoon of pressed garlic, if overcooked, will leave your food inedible and your dinner guests wondering why they didn’t just go to Olive Garden. (On the plus side, vampires will also keep their distance.)
1 tablespoon of olive oil
1 large clove of garlic, pressed
1 can of crushed tomatoes, opened (or you can use blanched, skinned and blended fresh tomatoes and maybe a tablespoon of tomato paste, but it never makes sense for me to do this from a cost/benefit perspective)
1 t dried oregano
3 large fresh basil leaves, chopped
1 pinch of crushed red pepper
Salt and pepper to taste
Before doing anything else, open the can of tomatoes
This sounds ridiculous, but it’s super important because the last thing you want to do is run around looking for your can opener while you’re overcooking the garlic. (Yes, I’ve done that. More than once.) So open the darn can and just set it down right next to your sauce pot. (You can thank me later.)
Now chop the basil, press the garlic and get ready for the fun part
Heat the olive oil in the pot under medium-low heat for about a minute. It will start to become less viscous, so you can tilt the pan and allow it to pool on one side. Confirm that your can of tomatoes is open and nearby and ready to reach with one hand while you hold a wooden spoon with the other. Place the pressed garlic on the wooden spoon and carefully add it to the pool of hot oil, stirring constantly. The garlic will sizzle a lot at first as it releases liquids, then it will quickly start to brown and give off all sorts of wonderful smells. (Our beloved family dog would come running down two flights of stairs the moment she smelled garlic cooking in olive oil, then she would put her snout as close to the range as possible without getting burned, just to take it all in.)
There’s a critical apex reached — once the garlic has released all of its “good” flavors and smells — when suddenly it starts to turn dark brown and produce rancid, nauseating odors that will ruin anything in their path. If that happens, pour everything into your compost pile and cover it with food-soiled paper or scraps to contain the smell. Then open the windows, clean the pot thoroughly with soap and water and start over.
With garlic, it’s okay to error on the side of not-yet-done but it’s never okay to error on the side of OVERdone.
At the critical moment, usually no more than 10-20 seconds in, grab that can of tomatoes and smother the garlic and olive oil by quickly adding the contents, then stir to normalize the temperature of the tomatoes, oil and perfectly-cooked garlic. (You’ll probably get some tomato on yourself in the process. I usually do.)
The rest is easy: Add all the other ingredients, stir them in and simmer on low for at least 30 minutes, up to 2 hours (or more if you add water). Stir the sauce every ten minutes or so to make sure it’s not sticking to the bottom and burning, which is another great way to ruin your pomodoro. (If any of the sauce burns, the whole pot of sauce is ruined and needs to be composted.)
Serve pomodoro in a million different ways: over penne or spaghetti, on pizza, on stuffed peppers or zucchini, inside (or on the side of) a calzone, as dipping sauce for anything fritti, etc.
Whatever you do, just do the garlic right and everything will turn out well. Even the vampires will like it.
I’ve loved osso buco since I first discovered it in Milan 15 years ago. Traditionally made from veal shanks, the name translates roughly to “bone hole,” which I suspect refers to the tender meat falling off the bone after a long, slow braising.
Over the holidays, I enjoyed this dish over pappardelle (a sumptuous noodle about two times the width of fettuccini) in an Italian restaurant in Montclair, NJ, where amazing Italian food seems to grow on trees. I recreated it using pork shoulder, since I don’t feel particularly good about using veal.
1 cut of pork shoulder (10-12oz)
1 T olive oil
2 C mirepoix (diced onion, carrots and celery)
3 C chicken stock
12oz dry red wine (or a nice hoppy beer)
1 t dried oregano
1 bay leaf
Salt, pepper, and crushed red pepper (to taste)
1 lb dry pappardelle
Optionally, salt the pork shoulder using a Himalayan salt block (or your own method).
Heat the olive oil in a cast-iron skillet. Sear the pork shoulder on high heat for two minutes on each side, then set aside in a dutch oven or slow cooker.
Add the mirepoix to the pan, reduce heat to medium and sautée until tender and brownish (4-5 minutes), adding more olive oil if necessary. Remove the vegetables and toss on top of the pork shoulder. Deglaze the pan with wine (or beer) and bring the liquid to a boil, then bring the heat to low and simmer until reduced by about half.
Now pour the wine/beer reduction and the stock into to the slow cooker or dutch oven, tossing in the oregano and bay leaf. The liquid and veggies should cover the pork shoulder completely.
Set the slow cooker to high, cover and cook for 3-4 hours. If you’re using a dutch oven, cover and cook in a conventional oven for 2-3 hours at 350°
To check for doneness, scrape the meat gently with a fork. If it falls off the bone, it’s ready.
Cook the pasta to al dente following package instructions. Toss the pasta with the veggies and some of the remaining liquids and meat. Plate each dish with the pasta, then a nice chunk of pork, some shaved parmesan, crushed red pepper, salt and black pepper.
Traditionally, Italians top this dish with gremolata, but I feel the strong flavors stand on their own and don’t really require it.
You’ve probably never heard of escarole — and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I’m always on the hunt for it, but it’s very hard to find in supermarkets, even at farmers’ markets. In this day and age, it sometimes gets served raw in hipster salads, but my family’s been serving it for years (if not centuries) cooked in chicken or ham-based soups and also as an amazing standalone side dish.
Known as a slightly bitter green, sautéing escarole releases a buttery texture and flavor that counteracts the bite. Optionally braising in chicken or pork stock further tempers the bitterness of this somewhat rare leafy green vegetable.
1 head escarole with leaves left whole, but separated from one another and washed
1 T olive oil
2 cloves of garlic, thinly sliced or shaven
1/2 C of chicken or pork stock
Warm the olive oil over medium heat in a stainless-steel saucepan and then add the escarole, taking care not to splash water into the oil. Cook the leaves in the oil, covered, for 2-3 minutes, until they’re tender and dark green.
Now, push all the leaves to one side of the saucepan and collect the oil in the other side, adding more oil to create a little pool for the garlic. Reduce the heat to medium low and add the garlic to the pool of olive oil, cooking only until fragrant — but never crispy, brown or smelly. Just as that garlic is reaching its flavor climax, turn off the heat and mix the garlic into the escarole vigorously to cool the garlic and stop it from cooking.
Serve immediately, or, optionally, add the stock, turn the range up to high, bring the stock to a boil, and then reduce the heat to low. Cover the saucepan and allow the escarole leaves to braise for 10-15 minutes (or until most of the stock has evaporated).
This is my family’s take on the classic Sardinian delicacy, featuring sustainably-sourced Wild Planet sardines from the California coastline. The sweet-savory blend of fish, saffron, currants and pine nuts suggests a sophistication that hides the fact that this dish takes fewer than 15 minutes to make.
1 lb dry Buccatini (or Edison Quinoa Penne for a delicious gluten-free option)
1 medium fennel bulb, diced, with fronds removed and reserved for garnish
1 medium white or yellow onion, diced
1 T tomato paste
1/2 C pine nuts
1/4 C currants
A pinch of saffron threads
1 package of Wild Planet sardines in oil
Salt and pepper to taste
Boil water for the pasta first, with a goal of having the sauce ready just before you drain it.
While the water warms, sauté the fennel and onion in the olive oil in a cast iron skillet over medium-high heat until brown and tender. Reduce the heat to low and add all the other ingredients, adding more olive oil if things are drying out too much. (Don’t forget to cook the pasta once the water comes to a boil.) Using a wooden spoon, mash up the sardines and mix everything together in the skillet to coat the fennel and onions.
When the pasta is nice and al dente, drain (but do not rinse) then add to the skillet and stir to coat with the sauce. Serve in shallow bowls with a garnish of fennel fronds and without parmesan cheese.
For years I’ve been enjoying these tasty concoctions (pronounced ah-sigh-EE) at Cafe Brasil in Santa Cruz and at Surfdog’s Java Hut in Encinitas. I’m also looking forward to trying the many different versions at Mana Bowls in Fairfax. But today, I just wanted one for breakfast. At home. In a pinch.
As fate would have it, we had everything I needed in the freezer, including these great Sambazon açaí berry packs you can find at your local health food store (a.k.a. Good Earth). I thicken up the berry mixture with banana and Manitoba Harvest Hemp 50 powder, packing in 15 grams of plant-based protein.
For me, this breakfast is a four hour hunger-killer — a great meal to have before a long surf session or trail run.
2 servings (2 bowls)
2 sleeves frozen Sambazon Açaí berries (sold 4 sleeves to a pack)
2 frozen bananas
1 cup frozen blueberries
3–5 frozen dark cherries (add more for richness)
8 T hemp powder
2 C almond milk
1 C granola
1 fresh banana, peeled and sliced into medallions
A small handful of fresh berries
2 t honey (to taste)
A few sprinkles of unsweetened coconut (optional)
Place all the frozen ingredients, the hemp powder and the almond milk into a powerful blender and blend on high until smooth.
Fill two bowls in this order, dividing everything up into halves:
- 1/2 the granola (~1/4 C)
- blended açaí mixture
- the rest of the granola (~1/4 C)
- banana medallions
- fresh berries
- coconut (optional)
As you eat this, you’ll realize that you’re going to have a great day. And if you don’t, it definitely wasn’t the açaí bowl’s fault.