Membership Drive: Winter Harvest

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Bob Pierson and the good folks at Farm to City are looking to increase enrollment in the Winter Harvest Buying Club.  Their goal is 300 active members.  If you’re not familiar with it, Winter Harvest features over 500 items and 20 pick-up locations.  It’s a godsend in the winter - when you’d rather be inside than making a pilgrimage to the Reading Terminal.  I’ve been a member since November 2005, and without it, the winters would be that much darker.

If you’re interested, click here to enroll. 

On Notice!

Sunday, January 22, 2012

Just a couple of things to take note of:

• Interested in urban foraging? The Wild Foodies of Philly has regular meet-ups. There’s an event on February 5 that takes place right around the Philadelphia Museum of Art—expect Indian strawberry greens and chickweed!
• The 2012 Philadelphia Auto Show’s Black Tie Tailgate on January 27 will apparently feature some locally grown/produced foods—specifically locally made cheeses. There’s a Farm to Table Harvest Station, but the menu doesn’t indicate if anything being served is from local farms. Tickets are $225, but the proceeds (approximately $100 from each ticket) benefit the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia.

Herbalists in Wonderland

Thursday, January 19, 2012

I apologize if I’m going a little overboard on this herb kick, but every week the power of these plants continue to amaze. After spending an entire week battling a cold with a thyme tincture three times a day, nettle/echinacea/ginger tea twice a day, and eucalyptus aroma therapy everytime I took a shower, I’m now feeling great. I won’t say that herbs cured me, but I will say that they eased the effects of the cold and allowed my body to naturally fight off the germs. And after a week of strict regiments of herbal therapy, I treated myself to a healthy herbal indulgence. No, not that conventional indulgence you may be thinking of. It was this indulgence you can see in the picture below.

What’s brewing in the tea kettle is kava infusion. Not the kind of kava that you buy in a Yogi Tea box. This kava is the actual root, chopped up and properly prepared with a warm water steep to fully get the effects. Kava is a very sacred and ceremonial drink popular among Polynesian and Micronesian peoples. The tea has a calming quality, almost like alcohol, but without the complete loss of those ever important motor skills that help with your coordination and good decision making. The scene that you see was set up by our local herb club which we call The Collecting Collective. Sorry about how dark the picture is, but that was the mood of the night. With the hanging tapestries and red lighting the scene was reminiscent of an arabic lounge. After taking my tea upstairs, the scene took on more of a Hong Kong opium den. Spread out over the entire floor were people sprawled out on pillows, sedately sipping their kava tea and puffing on spliffs rolled with an assortment of herbs (sorry marijuana was not present). My favorite was the calendula, mugwort, mullein blend. Not only did the mugwort give me some intensely vivid dreams, but the mullein actually soother my throat. It may seem counter intuitive to smoke something when you have a sore throat, but the native americans have been doing this for generations to cure bronchial problems.

Aside from the very relaxed scene and the euphoric effects of the tea, I think my favorite part was breaking away from the confines of alcohol and tobacco that people predominantly imbibe to unwind. As it goes with many things, you run into nothing but trouble when you take too much of one thing. By exploring herbs and integrating them into different aspects of my life, whether medicinal or recreational, it makes me feel good to know that there are hundreds of options out there to heal and to imbibe. So do some research and give it a try. And next time you need to calm down with a smoke, try an herbal cigarette, and next time you need a drink, find something a little more creative than alcohol.   

A Midwinter’s Cake

Monday, January 16, 2012

My aversion to sweet wine has probably meant that I neglect Italian desserts more than I should.  After all, this aversion to sweetness may conflict with Vin Santo, but it should mean an affinity for the cakes, tarts, and pies that Italians create to accompany those wines.  The affinity explains why I chose to make this bustrengo; the aversion why I neglected it in the past.

In Jamie’s Italy, from which this recipe was adapted, Jamie Oliver compares this to a French clafoutis.  The resemblance is undeniable, but I prefer the grit and heft (not to mention taste) of the polenta to the flour-only clafoutis.  Naturally, I’ve made some changes to the recipe in order to use local ingredients.  The dried figs were from my freezer, dehydrated and packed away last August.  The cranberries and maple sugar were from the Fair Food Farmstand.  The breadcrumbs were leftover bits from my own bread, and although widely available in local form, I chose white spelt flour over white all-purpose flour simply because that’s what I had.  Likewise, rather than use whole milk and the zest of oranges and lemons, I used buttermilk because, again, this was what I had, but I also realized the acidity of the buttermilk made the zest superfluous (i.e., less work).  Having previously made the bustrengo with zest, I can honestly say I didn’t notice the difference. 

If this seems like a lot of work or ingredients, keep in mind that most of the preparation can be done while the oven pre-heats - especially if you’ve prepared the breadcrumbs in advance.  In fact, you’re likely to spend more time waiting for it to cook than you are making it. 

Serve as breakfast on a midwinter morning alongside a steaming cappucino.

Philly CowShare: Share the Beef!

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

There are a million reasons to avoid buying from the grocery store when it comes to meat—the way the animals are treated, commercial production practices in terms of the environment, concerns about hormone use, etc. And some of us at Farm to Philly prefer to buy meat from local growers for those reasons, too. We also like that the food miles associated with local meat are seriously diminished. Luckily, it’s easy to buy locally grown meat in Philadelphia—whether you buy from the Fair Food Farmstand, direct from the farmer, at farmer’s markets, etc., we have access to everything from chicken to veal. However, there’s also another option we don’t see too much: the animal share. In case you didn’t know, we’ve got one in Philly CowShare. Last year, their first year in business, they sold fifty-five cows.

Philly CowShare offers locally grown, grass-fed beef shares at a variety of price points, the lowest of which is an eighth of a cow, or 40 lbs of beef. Oh, and if you go in on a whole cow with seven of your friends, you get a discount (Jessica Moore, one of the people who runs Philly CowShare, tells me that the meat isn’t discounted; rather, you get a discount due to a reduction in shipping charges). In addition to a variety of cuts (which are shared equally) and ground beef, you can also request bones, fat, and offal. Moore mentioned that the act of purchasing a whole cow tends to create a sense of community, and people often get together for cook-outs and meals that include cuts they get from th share, which is a nice side effect of the program.

Philly CowShare is attempting to redesign the normal supply chain of how we get meat. Their pillars of sustainability include:

• Financial (so the farmer makes a fair profit, but the cost of meat is still affordable)
• Environmental (which supports sustainable farming and better treatment of animals)
• Consumptive (CowShare issues a call out to consumer, asking them to eat sustainble meat, eat less meat, and eat whole animal)

In allowing Philly CowShare to be the middle man, it also frees up a farmer’s time. Moore calculated that if a farmer needs to sell a hundred cows (typical of a mid-size operation), assuming the need is eight people per cow and the farmer takes an hour with each customer, it would take five months to talk to everyone. Oy.

Unlike a regular CSA program, you can order a share at any time. Note, though, that it takes four to five weeks after a cow is butchered to deliver the meat—all the beef is dry-aged, so it takes a while. Right now they’re purchasing cows from three farms: Erdenheim Farm, Tussock Sedge Farm, and Herrdale Acres. They’re planning to add two to three additional farms in 2012.

Oh, and more exciting news: they’ll be adding pig shares in late spring/early summer 2012, along with grilling boxes consisting of hamburgers and hot dogs. Keep an eye on the Philly CowShare website or their Twitter account for that announcement.

If you’re a stickler for certified organic, Philly CowShare may not be for you—the people who run the program monitor the farmers, to ensure they’re using sustainable, hormone-free, and environmentally friendly growing practices, but they do not require a USDA organic certification (which can be cost prohibitive to small farmers) to participate in the program.

Your Friendly, Local Herb Club

Monday, January 09, 2012

I often surprise people when I reveal that I prefer the winter months. It must stand to reason that since I grow food, being confined to the house while the earth freezes and the plants wilt must be torture. But it must be the writer in me that finds a sort of refuge while I’m locked in my office, forgoing the world outside. And just when I feel at complete peace in my cocoon, we get a sixty-degree day like we did this past weekend, and all of the sudden my body cannot resist the urge to be out in the sun with my hands in the soil. It’s a co-dependent relationship that I’m constantly coming to terms with.

So to stay sane, I try and maintain a few projects in the winter that keep me connected to the earth in its deep freeze. Some days it’s dealing with the chickens, other days it’s tinkering in the greenhouse. But at least once a week, my favorite communion with the gods of nature is at our community herb club. The meetings are convened by local botanist and native plant hunter Zya. Armed with a few field guides and an appreciative understanding of the role herbs play in our ecosystem, each week Zya teaches us about a selected group of herbs. One week she’ll make an herbal infusion (I learned right off the bat not to call them teas because tea is it’s own specific leaf) out of thyme, hyssop, and raspberry leaf. Other weeks we’ll make tinctures like the juniper berry tincture we made last week.  I’ll admit that in the past the concept of making tinctures and infusions seemed like some supernatural, unattainable alchemy. But as I’ve come to find out, the ease of doing this is sometimes the most awing part. Just this past week we made a juniper tincture by:

Finely chopping up one cup of juniper needles (ours were harvested from the beach in New Jersey) and put in sterile mason jar
Mix with one cup of gin (sometimes people use vinegar if they don’t want the alcohol. But make sure the vinegar is warmed as it begins the steeping process)
Store in cool, dark place for 3-6 weeks (or for vinegar, much shorter, like 14 days)
Once it has steeped, strain the liquid through a cheese cloth

And there you go. You have a tincture with a shelf life of 1-3 years. You can even put the liquid in a little dropper bottle to give it that medicinal feel. But that’s only half the fun.  The other half is finding all of the cool things juniper berries are good for. At herb club we learned everything from the functional, like drinking Juniper tincture is good as an anti-inflamatory in your system to treat urinary tract infections (although it was said that over dosage can actually lead to more inflammation) or rubbing the tincture on your skin to cure warts or athletes foot, all the way to the fantastic, like the burning of Juniper needles in the cleansing of sacred spaces (actually, Zya told us that burning or smudging Juniper on your skin can get rid of body odor). And yes, on the equinox I plan to burn a bonfire of Juniper branches that I need to trim in front of my house, and stand over it while the gods cleanse my body.

But the most awing thing that we learn every Monday from Zya is of the important role that herbs have played in our bodies since the beginning of time. Now, I’m not advocating that herbs always be used in place of modern medicine for serious medical ailments. But by understanding the power that herbs possess, and by integrating them into your life, both your body and your mind will be the healthier for it. I’m sure this was probably all said on the tab of your Yogi Tea bag, but why don’t you get a few friends together and a book about herbs, and try it for yourself.

Winter Carrots to the Rescue

Sunday, January 08, 2012

Now is about the time I start thinking about spring—and it’s not just the batallion of seed catalogs popping up in the mail. I start to get tired of potatoes and other root vegetables, all the stuff that I canned or froze the past summer. I want something to eat with bright colors and flavors.

That’s when I break out my favorite carrot soup recipe. I noted on Twitter the other day that I planned to make it, and someone tweeted me back: “How do you make soup out of just carrots?

Oh, ye of little faith. Most people forget about carrots when it comes to winter vegetables. You can often find them at winter farmer’s markets, and if you grow them at home, you can generally leave them in the ground in the fall (with a little protection during colder winters) until you need them. And it’s not like carrots are usually considered the star of the show—maybe you throw them in soup as part of a miripoix, maybe you chop them up and throw them in a meatloaf or something.

I’ve seen lots of variations of carrot soup—usually paired with ginger and pureed until smooth. I prefer soup with a little bit more body, and this recipe fits the bill for me. I tinkered with it, of course, because I just can’t leave well enough alone. Most of the ingredients can be sourced locally, and the flavor is fantastic: hearty but bright.

2.5 lbs. of carrots (trimmed, peeled, and chopped)
half of a red onion (chopped)
2 cloves garlic (minced)
3 cups chicken stock
1 cup heavy cream
4 Tbsp butter
1 pinch of saffron threads
1 pinch of sugar
1 Tbsp. salt
.5 cup sour cream
4 Tbsp. cilantro (chopped)

Combine in a stockpot: carrots, onions, garlic, saffront, sugar, salt, butter, and 1 cup of stock. Bring to a simmer and then cover, cooking over medium heat while stirring occasionally for fifteen minutes or until most of the stock is evaporated. The carrots should be tender.

Add 2 cups of stock and the heavy cream; bring to a simmer. Stir in 3 Tbsp. of cilantro, sour cream, and more salt to taste. Use a stick blender to puree roughly half the soup. You can also do this using a regular blender, of course. I I prefer the soup slightly chunky.

Serve with a drizzle of sour cream or yogurt, a light sprinkling of more cilantro, and a few curls of carrot.

There are other ways to enjoy carrots as a main dish, of course:

carrot risotto
carrot pasta with cream and mint
carrot timbales
carrot quiche
carrot curry

The Post-Christmas Fridge and Freezer Clean: Part II

Sunday, January 01, 2012

At some point during the holidays, I get tired of the left over roast beast and various side dishes that crowd the refrigerator.  As nice as it is to take a break from cooking, the desire to make something new and different wakes me out of my lethargy and compels me to pull out utensils other than a spoon to scoop something out of the tupperware. Feeling replenished from either sleeping in or taking such an extended break from cooking (perhaps both), I took it up again with an ambitious project: the turkey pot pie.

Pot pies may seem like classic comfort food, but they require a great deal of preparation, particularly if you make every element from scratch.  And it is my feeling that if you are going to bother, then you should bother with the whole thing, pastry crust and all.  So, working from this recipe, I fashioned a pot pie from Christmas turkey, long-harbored root vegetables in my vegetable bin, and one of the many containers of turkey stock (made after Thanksgiving) still cramming my freezer.  Now, having claimed to make the entire pot pie from scratch, let me hedge that by admitting I rarely make a pot pie and never do so in the space of a single day.  On day one, I prepare the filling and make the pastry crust.  On day two, I make the roux and assemble and bake the pie.  This both reduces the workload considerably and prevents me from rushing to use the pastry dough before it’s chilled. 

In this instance, I made substitutions and adjustments based on what I had on hand.  First, and of least consequence, I substituted turkey for chicken.  Second, rather than use pearl onions, I opted for leeks.  I generally prefer the milder taste and silky texture of the leeks, and because they are sliced rather than whole, they integrate more uniformly with the other elements.  Third, I never care for the peas, so I just omit them altogether, increasing the other vegetables by a small amount to compensate; I also omit the Tabasco here as it just seems silly (though I might try a bit of horseradish one of these days).  Fourth, rather than potatoes, I used parsnips I had long been neglecting.  There is something slightly acidic (not to mention the faint taste of vanilla) to them that complements the sweet carrots and cuts through the bland richness of the roux.  Fifth, as with any recipe, I used local Daisy Flour.  Rather than the white all-purpose flour in the roux, I used white spelt flour.  Rather than the white all-purpose flour in the pastry, I used whole-wheat pastry flour.  Additionally, I used all butter instead of the mix of butter and shortening in the pastry; had I any lard (available at the Fair Food Farmstand), I would have substituted that for the shortening.

The end result was certainly worth the effort.  Best enjoyed with a good local ale.  My favorite is Stoudt’s Scarlet Lady Ale.

P.S. To make yet another meal, I simmered the excess pie filling in additional stock and topped with these cornmeal dumplings.  Also best enjoyed with a good local ale.

Mushroom Goulash

Saturday, December 31, 2011

While we’ve been enjoying a mild winter so far, many long months still lie between us and spring. This is a great dish to combat the winter blues with, being so savory and warming, and locally grown mushrooms, onions and herbs are readily available even in this pretty bleak period for produce.  It’s also a great vegetarian (or vegan, if you leave out the sour cream and use all oil instead of a mix with butter) option for New Year’s Day or Super Bowl parties, easily scaling up to feed a crowd.

If you like it hot, you can substitute Hungarian hot paprika or ground chipotle for the Spanish smoked paprika below.

Mushroom Goulash
Serves 6-8

2 tablespoons each unsalted butter and olive oil
3 large or 6 small onions, thinly sliced
16 ounces cremini and/or white button mushrooms, sliced
1/3 ounce mixed dried mushrooms, reconstituted in one cup boiling water, then drained and coarsely chopped
1 1/2 tablespoons Hungarian sweet paprika
1/2 teaspoon Spanish smoked paprika
2 cups hot vegetable stock
Salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup sour cream
Chopped parsley for garnishing

Cooked egg noodles or rice

Melt the butter into the oil in a large, heavy-bottomed pan over medium heat.  Cook the onions, stirring regularly, until they have softened and begun to turn gold, then add the mushrooms and continue cooking until they have begun to wilt.

Sprinkle the sweet and smoked paprikas over the onions and mushrooms, and continue stirring over the heat for a minute or two.  Pour in the stock, adding a bit more if necessary to just cover the vegetables, and salting lightly.  Cover the pot, lower the heat and simmer until the onions have broken down and the mushrooms are cooked through, 30-45 more minutes.

Take the pot off the heat and stir in the sour cream and parsley.  Taste and add more salt and pepper as desired, then serve over the cooked noodles or rice.

Leftovers can be gently reheated the next day, though if you use low-fat sour cream, it may look a bit curdled, which won’t affect the taste.

Give Liver (Pate) a Chance

Tuesday, December 27, 2011

Liver pate gets a bad rap. Well, let’s face it: liver in general is reviled. I recently announced that instead of Christmas cookies this year, I made pate. It was universally met with a disgusted “ew!” It’s a shame. There’s nothing better than a good liver pate on water crackers. It’s smooth and delicious. It’s also ridiculously easy to make, and you can prepare it using almost entirely local ingredients.

Let’s start with the livers. You need about a pound of chicken livers, and you can get those from any local producers of chickens. Mine came from Friendly Farms. Sure, they look a little disgusting, but get over it. Oh, and soak them in milk for two hours. People say this is how you get the disgusting flavor out of them…personally, I’ve had soaked and unsoaked livers, and I can’t really tell the difference. I say it’s all in how you cook them.

But let’s assume you’ve soaked your livers in milk and you’re ready to get moving. What else do you need?

1 cup yellow onion, diced
2 Tbsp. garlic, minced
2 bay leaves
1 tsp fresh thyme, chopped
salt and pepper
1/4 cup of bourbon
4 Tbsp butter
4 Tbsp butter, cold and chopped into pieces.

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Saute onions for about 3 minutes; add garlic, and saute for 30 seconds. Toss in the chicken livers, bay, thyme, salt, and pepper and cook all this down for about five minutes—basically you want the liver to still be slightly pink inside. Add the bourbon and cook until the liquid is mostly evaporated.

Let the mixture cool, remove and discard the bay leaf, and then toss everything (but the bay leaf) into your blender or food processor, along with the cold butter. Blend it up until it looks like something you so don’t want to eat and adjust the seasonings to your taste. Pour into ramekins and refrigerate for at least six hours.

If you’re taking them to a party, you can seal the pate with clarified butter to keep it fresher.

Sycamore’s Chef Tasting

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Philadelphia and the surrounding areas are now seeing more restaurants than ever that focus on locally grown produce and meats. As someone who cares about that sort of thing, it’s a thrill to have Sycamore. around the corner from my house. The other day I received an email about their Tuesday night chef tasting, announcing there would be no set menu—Sam Jacobson, the chef, was heading into Reading Terminal Market that morning to buy up what looked good and would serve accordingly.

Well, I can never turn down a mystery dinner.

The theme ingredient (I’m giggling because I sound like the Iron Chef announcer in my head right now) was wild Maine lobster, which isn’t exactly local, but many of the ingredients in the dinner were. So what were the courses eventually served up?

• Lobster salad—persimmon, jicama, baby fennel, marinated Napa cabbage
• Tempura-fried lobster tail—crispy pork belly, kimchi aioli
• Fragrant lobster risotto—lemongrass, kaffir lime, scallions, crushed marcona almonds
• Buttered lobster with hen of the woods mushrooms—heirloom carrots, parsnips, turnip creamed potatoes, sambuca lobster sauce
• Local butternut squash crisp—cranberries, amaretto ginger crust, maple mascarpone

Yes, it was delicious. Then again, I’ve never had a bad meal at Sycamore.

Other than the butternut squash, I can hazard a guess about what else may have been local. Can you?

Coincidentally, I was thrilled to see the kimchi aioli on the menu. If you’ve been reading Farm to Philly long enough, you know I love to make kimchi. I may need to experiment with that aioli, see if I can make a passable fascimile! With cabbage and some radishes in season, now’s the time to pickle.

Sycamore
14 S. Lansdowne Ave,
Lansdowne, PA 19050

HomeBrew for the Holidays

Monday, December 19, 2011

Although I do buy a few presents, what really gives the holidays meaning for me is to take the time to make most of the presents I give. I must admit that at some point, maybe around 22 or 23, I think that a few people in my family were wondering when I was going to graduate from my little art projects I would use a gifts and make something a little more substantial. Lucky for me, and for them I suppose, this was right around the time that I learned the joys of home brewing.

I was first schooled in home brewing by a housemate who was born in Oregon, the land of craft beer and home brews. But as of late, as you can see from all of the amazing micro breweries that stock our beer distributors’ shelves, Philadelphia is giving Oregon a run for its money as the beer mecca of the US. Although my housemate never lost her Oregon pride, she was impressed by how many people home brewed in Philly. In my first year of brewing beer, after getting my glass carboy, brew pot, and bottling equipment, I was brewing about 5 gallons of beer per month. And although I had some successes, there was that one terrible batch of Chipotle Stout where I went a little too heavy of the spice and light on the body.

Today I don’t find the time to brew much beer. And I must also admit that I still haven’t mastered the skill of making my own recipes and malts (I settle for internet standard recipes and malt extract). But every year around this time, I get out the old equipment and make a few cases of beer to give out to my friends. This year it’s the Winter CinnaBock. It’s become an annual tradition just like christmas cookies were for my grandmother when I was a kid. If you’re looking into getting into beer brewing, my recommendation would be to check out Barry’s HomeBrew Store at 1447 N. American St. in Kensington. Aside from the having all of the equipment you’ll need at pretty fair prices, they also cater to different levels of skill. As I said, I’m sadly still buying the prepackaged kits with all of the malt, grain, hops and yeast you’ll need for a brew. But they also have loose raw materials which reduce the cost of brewing even more and give you an even greater feeling of DIY accomplishment.
But whatever route you choose, brewing beer is a fun step in the handmade direction. I couldn’t imagine a christmas with out it. So if you haven’t gotten around to making a wishlist, or you can squeeze a few more things on there, ask for a home brew kit. Whoever gets it for you will surely thank you later.

The Pre-Christmas Fridge and Freezer Clean: Part I

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

In case you hadn’t noticed, Christmas is only twelve days away.  This has two worrying consequences for me.  First, I’ve done exactly enough Christmas shopping to fill the “toe” of my wife’s stocking that is hanging by the chimney with care.  Second, our fridge needs to be completely disgorged if we have any hope of absorbing the leftovers that will be coming our way.  While I do love the good people of Bennett Compost, I have no wish to fill my compost bucket prematurely. 

First up were some sorry looking leeks and dinosaur (lacinato) kale from CSA.  After I sauteed the leeks in some butter, I added the kale (julienned into fine strips).  Once cooked, I mixed some cream, egg, and cheese.  I poured all of this into a homemade tart shell and baked into a surprising result. 

I say “surprising result” because I honestly had no idea how the kale would cook in a tart.  I’ve made tarts with spinach, but their tender leaves cook easily.  I suspect this recipe worked well for several reasons: one, dinosaur (lacinato) kale leaves are comparatively tender to begin with; two, I cut them into fine strips; three, I sauteed them with the leeks first.  Regardless, this dish quickly graduated from a desperate “fridge-clearer” to a first choice. 

Next up: Turkey Pot Pie. 

Where’s the Beef (and Pork and Lamb)?

Monday, December 12, 2011

I was just in a meeting today with a Chef where we were thinking about why Philly has such a lack of vegetarian restaurants. Although we couldn’t find a definitive answer, we found a common cause in our shared experience of why we stopped being vegetarian. Just like my chef friend, I had developed my ethics of not eating meat while living in other parts of the country where industrial animal farms make up most of the pastoral landscape. But after moving back to Philly, where the age old traditions of Amish land ethics mix with a healthy dose of progressive family farming, we both realized that the Pennsylvania country side offered a much better, and much tastier, alternative to swearing off meat. By being more health conscious, land conscious and more humane, Pennsylvania farmers have created a system where people can both live by their ideals and eat meat. This was just recently celebrated in the newest edition of Grid magazine, and it will be discussed this Wednesday Dec. 14th at the restaurant school in Philadelphia. It’s being hosted by Slow Food Philly and PASA as well as many other great organizations. If you are on the fence about meat consumption or want to understand how this food system works, then check out the description below.

In its final workshop of the fall 2011 season, Slow Food Philly will host a lively (and delicious) discussion about local, sustainably raised beef, pork and lamb. In partnership with the Pennsylvania Association for Sustainable Agriculture (PASA), the workshop will take place at the Restaurant School in West Philadelphia on Wednesday, December 14th.
The panel, moderated by PASA’s Regional Director, Marilyn Anthony, will include Jessica Moore of Philly CowShare, Dean Carlson of Wyebrook Farm and Linda Geren of High View Farm. Together, they will discuss the importance of sustainable agriculture and the process of bringing their superior quality, local meat, to market.
This workshop is guaranteed to be a meat lovers treat! A variety of delicious meaty samples will be available along with a selection of wine. Tickets for this event are $20 and are sure to sell out. To purchase tickets visit the Slow Food Philly ticketing site.

Where’s The Beef (And Pork And Lamb)?
When: Wednesday, December 14, 7:00-9:00 pm
Where: The Restaurant School, 4100 Walnut Street, Philadelphia, PA 19104
Cost: $20/person, tickets available here
www.slowfoodphilly.org

How to Use Quinces

Saturday, December 03, 2011

If you’ve eaten at Amada, Tinto, or other tapas-oriented restaurants, the odds are good that you’ve had dulce de membrillo, the quince-based paste that’s served with cheese in Spain and pretty much all over Latin America.  Sadly, it can be both hard to find in the U.S. and ridiculously overpriced when you do, which is why I’ve been making my own any time I can find quinces in the market. Fortunately for me, Beechwood Orchards consistently brings them to the local markets late in the fall, letting me indulge my love of this fruit by buying eyebrow-raising quantities at each visit. They can also be found, albeit at higher prices, in some local groceries this time of year as well.

Quinces are so naturally high in pectin that they’re a snap for even the novice preserves-maker to handle.  All you have to do is cook them until they’re soft, puree them and add an almost equal amount of sugar, and cook them down until they turn from gold to salmon pink.  The resulting mixture sets itself into a nice firm jam at this point, or you can pour it into a shallow pan and dehydrate it in a very low oven until it firms up into a nice sliceable block that keeps forever in the fridge. 

The nice thing about this recipe is that it can be scaled up or down for as many quinces as you care to buy, and just one lazy Saturday afternoon of effort will yield you enough squares of dulce de membrillo or jars of jam for all your holiday party cheese plates, with plenty of extras for seasonal hostess gifts.

Dulce de Membrillo (Quince Paste)
Makes one 1 ½ - 2 lb block, or about eight 1-cup jars of jam

10 quinces (around 5 pounds)
Approximately 4 cups granulated sugar
Half of a large vanilla bean, split
1 lemon

Wash, peel and core the quinces, chopping roughly. Remove the peel of half the lemon in long strips with a peeler, and place with the quinces and vanilla bean in a large pot, pouring over enough water to just cover the fruit. Bring to a boil, then cover the pot and lower the heat to a simmer, cooking until the fruit is tender. 

Drain the quinces, removing the vanilla bean but leaving in the lemon strips.  Puree the fruit with a food processor, food mill or immersion blender until smooth. Measure the puree in a liquid measuring cup and add 1 cup sugar for every 1 ¼ cups of fruit. Transfer the mixture into a large, heavy-bottomed pan and heat on low, stirring until the sugar dissolves, then stir in the juice of the lemon.  Increase the heat just enough to barely sustain a simmer and cook until very thick and a dark pink color, stirring frequently.  If you are getting a lot of splatter, partially cover the pan but stir even more often to prevent burning.

If putting up as jam, spoon the thickened mixture into clean, sterilized jars and seal using the boiling water method.  To set as dulce de membrillo, pour the mixture into a shallow, buttered 8 x 8 pan and bake in an oven at the lowest possible setting for 1-2 hours, or as long as it takes to solidify into a firm block, flipping it over as soon as the top is set in order to dehydrate it evenly.  Covered tightly, the dulce can be kept nearly indefinitely in the refrigerator.