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Eating warm

If modern Americans were close to farms, as our grandparents were, we would now be changing our diets to accommodate the new season. Not because we wanted to necessarily, but because that would be all we would have to eat. Local food was all there was. Importing oranges or strawberries or tomatoes from California or Latin America was just too expensive. And factory food, except for canned vegetables and meats, wasn’t so prevalent. That meant winter squash, cool-weather greens, sweet potatoes and the like would grace the table, replacing fresh corn, tomatoes, cucumbers and watermelon.

Even with markets full of trucked-in produce from around the world, I often crave food that goes with the season. Cooler weather makes me want warm, filling and comfortable dishes. Like garlic chicken, braised lamb shanks, daube of beef (beef stew), slow-cooked beans, roasted vegetables and potatoes. It’s as if the appetite responds to the need to stay warm, to add a little winter padding to the body’s outer layer and help it survive the cold winter coming.

Garlic chicken is a great example. This simple dish uses 50 or 60 garlic cloves buried under browned chicken pieces and cooked with wine and stock. Serve it over hot cajun or plain rice. Soak up the juices with some good bread. Wash it down with a light pinot, or Brouilly, and you have prepared yourself for the next chilly autumn day.

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Like feeding the birds, only better.

There’s a man in our downtown park who feeds birds and squirrels. He’s good at it. Smaller birds sit on his shoulder. Ducks gather round his legs. Squirrels nibble out of his hand.

There is something simply right about the act of feeding. All mothers know this. So do cooks. I get immense satisfaction watching people eat food I have spent some time, thought and effort in putting together. And, it rarely matters if the meal is simple or complex, a feast or a snack, food that complements a sporting event, or food memorable enough for a wedding celebration. If the joy in serving it forth (to quote M.F.K. Fisher), is lacking, then the meal in most cases will be lackluster, a joyless feed instead of a happy feast.

This past weekend, I was richly rewarded. There was a meal in the morning (for a football party), an elaborate pan bagnat for another gathering, followed by a meal for a sick friend’s family, and finally an evening dinner party. At the last, there was the plus of being a participant as well as a cook.

The next time you’re in your favorite restaurant, watch the chef and the cooks. You can tell if a full house and happy diners are making them happy. The smile on their faces will be the same smile you saw on your mother’s face when you finished your supper, and ate it all up.

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A different chicken wing

Food chains that specialize in chicken wings generally have a limited repertoire. You order wings with various degrees of spice and heat (habanero sauce at one end, ketchup-like at the other), different coatings (barbeque, teriyaki) or rubs (jerk, garlic) and the same dips – ranch or blue cheese with a stalk of celery. They are not without character, unlike chicken fingers that set the standard for bland, but it’s hard to find anything interesting about them once you’ve had them once or twice. Nothing new, as Ecclesiastes says, under the sun.

Well, here’s a variation to consider: wings that come from the Chinese dim sum tradition. In this preparation, the wings have had the meat forced to the end, baring the bone. In the case of the double-bone section, one bone is removed first. These are lightly seasoned, battered and deep fried. For lunch today, I used a bit of garlic as the seasoning, made a light batter and served them – to myself – with a roasted tomato salsa and a homemade mayonnaise. They’re not messy, since the edible portion is all at one end, and the light batter gives them a richness lacking in a plain wing.

I noted in my last newsletter that these would be a good addition to a football party, since they retain their bar-food character, ease of eating and ability to go well with a variety of drinks. I still believe this to be true, but would urge you to get someone else to make them for you. Preparing the wings, removing the bones, etc. is tedious.

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Marinara

One of the delights of late tomato season in the south is fresh marinara sauce. Every batch has its own personality, varying with the type of tomatoes you use, their ripeness, how they are prepared.

Here are some things to know that will make cooking marinara simple. Boil some water and blanch whole tomatoes for 30 seconds or so, transfer to the sink and core with a paring knife. The peel will fall off. Then, squeeze out the seeds and the watery pulp. Don’t squeeze too hard, but do get rid of the extra water. After peeling, you can chop, puree or hand-squeeze the tomatoes into a bowl ready to go into the pot. I generally use a food processor, though it’s satisfying to hand-squeeze the tomatoes. It gives one a nice, visceral connection with the food, and the result is pulpy and rustic.

For most of my marinaras, I’ll saute one finely-chopped, medium-sized yellow or white onion in good olive oil, or use half a large onion.  Three or four cloves chopped garlic (also fine) goes in after the onions have started to soften. Grate a half a carrot and add to the onion-garlic mix. The carrot makes the sauce a touch sweeter – you won’t taste it.  Watch the heat and try not to let the mixture brown. When, very soft pour in the pureed/chopped/squeezed tomatoes. Add about 1/4 cup red wine. Let bubble until the mixture is reduced by about a third, stirring occasionally with a wooden spoon. Add kosher salt, freshly-ground pepper and an herb. I believe it’s best to keep the marinara mono-herb and rarely mix them. Today, I used about two tablespoons of pureed fresh basil that I had in the refrigerator (intended originally for pesto). Dried oregano or thyme also make a great marinara, but I prefer using only one. Being a man who prefers richly-spiced sauces, I’m a bit heavy handed. You may want to start with less and add more to suit your taste. Understand that the herb taste will deepen over time.

The marinara is ready to eat once you get the seasoning right, but it will get better if you turn off the heat and let it rest for at least a half hour, and several hours is fine.

Simple marinara and pasta is delicious. Add a little Parmigiana and eat with toasted bread and some olive oil. Or cook a Japanese eggplant with some fresh herbs (chopped sage and thyme are nice) and top with marinara and a disk of goat cheese, as in our lunch Sunday afternoon (see photo). Or, add it to cauliflower along with pasta, or use it on eggplant stacks, or in hundreds of other dishes.

The key is don’t buy canned or jarred tomato sauce, factory food at its worst with all the preservatives, stabilizers and flavor enhancers that ruin the taste to  keep it shelf-ready for five or ten years. If you ever do a taste comparison, you’ll throw the store-bought stuff out. Fresh, lovely, wonderful marinara is only thirty minutes away.