The rumblings of my stomach have been silent for too long. Don’t worry. I have been eating well for the past month … just far from home. I went camping with my family, played bridesmaid in an Atlanta wedding and went apartment hunting in NYC—yep, William and I are moving from tropical South Florida back to the Big Apple where William (and hopefully I) will start work in the fall. We returned home for a few days then dashed to Apalachicola, Florida, to visit William’s parents and then Baxley, Georgia, to see mine.

Our best meals along the way were at Cascabel Taqueria, Bhojan (kosher, vegetarian Indian) and Zoma (Ethiopian) in New York; Natalia’s (Italian) in Macon, Georgia; Elements (American) in teeny Lyons, Georgia; B & J’s (fried seafood—get the shrimp basket) in coastal Darien, Georgia; and my Grandma’s house for fried frog legs in Delray Beach, Florida.

Also, with the help of my forester Father, I foraged for edible plant life in the mountains of western North Carolina. We found poke weed, dandelion greens, blackberries, buck berries, sassafras, thistle, mint, and wild apples. To collect the apples, Dad and I trudged through an overgrown field where we disturbed a colony of yellow jackets. I exchanged five stings for eight small apples—a not-so-friendly reminder that I am an urban condo dweller and not a woman of the woods. If Dad humors my locavore longings in the future, I’ll wear boots and long pants.

Our bounty yielded a few oddities and two great appetizers. I made sweet bruschetta by stewing blackberries with a bit of sugar and red wine vinegar. I tossed the syrupy mixture with wilted dandelion greens and placed the topping on toasted and buttered ciabatta. I cooked my prized apples with lemon zest and sugar, spooned the warm apples onto hunks of sharp cheddar and garnished the bites with sprigs of mint. The dishes were simple and spot on delicious.

William and I have been home for less than a week now, packing (and packing) and making meals out of remnants from our fridge. But we leave again tomorrow for San Francisco and Napa (to celebrate the end of William’s law school), and then we’re off to our new home with an unimaginably small kitchen. I’ll keep you posted!

It had been a while since I’d enjoyed the simple pleasures of a croque monsieur—a gussied up ham and swiss sandwich that wears a smear of broiled béchamel. The sandwiches are filling, fun and French, of course, and they’re perfect for weeknight belly filling.

With so few ingredients, quality is a must. Buy the best bread, cheese and ham you can. And use whole milk for the sauce—it’s not like you eat these every day!

Here’s the gist of the epicurious.com recipe I used: Make a creamy, peppery béchamel. Set aside. Slip ham and cheese between two slices of sturdy sandwich bread. Brush bread with melted butter, and cook each side in a frying pan until golden. Top the bread with a heaping glop of béchamel, and sprinkle with grated swiss. Broil sandwiches until cheese is golden. Done.

My only change to the recipe was subbing tarragon for chives—you’ll want to add some type of herb to this otherwise veggie-barren sandwich. We served baked fries on the side, but a lightly-dressed salad would make a more nutritious partner.

Whatever you do, be sure to use a knife and fork, lest your fingers fall into the peril of sloppy béchamel. Or skip the silverware and lick your digits clean.

I’m not really into cute food. And presentation isn’t my forte, but I was pleased pink with this watermelon salad. The combination is far from novel—red leaf lettuce, watermelon, scallions, blueberries, fresh feta, walnuts and balsamic vinaigrette—but it’s a plateful of summer fruit love. And the watermelon hearts were a simple flourish made with small, heart-shaped cookie cutters. They brought a welcome smile to our dinner table, as they will to yours.

William went crazy for this orzo dish, spiked with sweet butternut squash, brown butter, roasted hazelnuts and sage. Thanks to fresh, local produce and a gratuitous helping of fat—why not add butter and cream—the orzo far exceeded my expectations. It was creamy, rich (but not obnoxiously so) and chock full of nutty flavor.

What made the difference?

Walnuts or pine nuts would have worked, but roasted hazelnuts transformed the dish. Olive oil would have coated the pasta just fine, but brown butter worked to amp up the hazelnut flavor. Also, I’m usually I’m lazy with butternut squash, roasting unpeeled squash halves and peeling them once they’ve cooled. For this orzo,  I peeled, diced, and roasted the raw squash. That way, a larger surface area of the sweet squash was able to caramelize, further intensifying its flavor.

This orzo is a good example of taking simple (cheap) ingredients and squeezing every ounce of flavor from them. Instead of a ho hum, not-to-be repeated vegetarian dinner, this is a dish my husband will request and one I’ll gladly repeat when there’s fresh squash available.

Roasted Butternut Squash Orzo
1 medium butternut squash,  peeled and diced
1 tablespoon extra virgin olive oil
Salt and pepper
2 cups orzo pasta
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 small onion, thinly sliced
2 gloves garlic minced
10 sage leaves, thinly sliced
1/2 cup grated Parmesan cheese
1/3 cup heavy cream
1/2 cup chopped roasted hazelnuts

Instructions
Preheat oven to 400°.

Toss butternut squash in a olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Spread squash onto a rimed baking sheet, and roast for 30 minutes. Remove squash from oven, and set aside.

Bring a large pot of salted water to a boil. Add orzo and cook according to package directions. Drain pasta, and keep warm.

Meanwhile, heat a medium frying pan on medium heat. Add butter, and brown. Stir in onions, and cook until soft—about 4 minutes. Add garlic and sage, and cook 1 minute more.

In a large bowl, combine squash, orzo, brown butter mixture, Parmesan, and cream. Season to taste with salt and pepper.

Divide pasta into bowls and top with hazelnuts.

Serves 4

This winter’s extended cold weather set the season back by about a month, but mango season is finally in full swing. You can read all about mangos—how to eat and cook them, grow them, select and store them, and more—in the latest issue of Edible South Florida Magazine (with a juicy cover photo of Dr. Richard Campbell). Pick up a copy at a Whole Foods near you, and be sure to read my article on local food artisan Alejandra Bigai, owner of Romanicos Chocolate.

The mango of my childhood is the Haden, a common Florida variety that we picked from a tree that peeked over my grandma’s property line. To me the Haden was exotic—something we couldn’t get unless we schlepped eight hours from South Georgia to Palm Beach County in late summer.

Almost everyone who grows up in the tropics has “their own” mango, says Dr. Richard Campbell, senior curator of tropical fruit for Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden (pictured below). And it’s likely—no matter the mango’s color, taste, or nation of origin—your mango grows on the Fairchild Farm in Homestead. Campbell and horticulturalist Noris Ledesma grow close to 450 mango varieties on the farm.

Among the farm’s collection are prized Indian mangos, which will be the focus of Fairchild’s 18th Annual International Mango Festival, held on July 10 and 11. I have yet to sample this king of fruits (something I plan to rectify this weekend), but they’re known for their intense flavor and perfect, fiberless texture.

But the mango king can turn into a monster in the wrong hands. Indian mangos, unlike their Floridian counterparts, are picked before they fully ripen. Letting them ripen on the tree or growing them in soil that’s too rich in nitrogren produces “scary” mangos with flavors reminiscent of a wet sock, says Campbell.

Rest assured, the Indian mangos at Fairchild won’t give you nightmares of middle school gym class. They’re picked at the right time (when the mangos’ bellies or shoulders widen). They ripen at a perfect temperature (85° to 90°). And they’re never fed nitrogen fertilizers.

All of Fairchild’s mangos are treated with such care—not just the Indian stars—and the festival aims to teach home gardeners how to nurture their own trees. The garden will sell Angie and Jean Ellen saplings for $35 and give lectures on pruning and grafting, among other topics.

For condo dwellers (like me) and other non-growers, the festival also will feature 300 mango varieties on display, mango tastings, cooking demonstrations, a chutney cook-off, a mango auction, and Bollywood dance.

Not only will the festival host sweaty, mango-loving hordes, but it also will hold a conference to teach local and international growers how to produce Indian mangos for a hungry U.S. market. Right now, the mangos are flown from India to United States, and air travel jacks up the cost and comprises the quality of the fruit.

If Campbell has anything to do with it—and if we’re lucky enough—we’ll all come to know and love Indian mangos, they’ll be more affordable, and they’ll be grown a lot closer to home.

18th Annual International Mango Festival
July 10 and 11, 9:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.
Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden
10901 Old Cutler Road Coral Gables, FL 33156

If you can’t make the mango festival, you can purchase mangos in season at Fairchild Farm, along with avocados, sapodilla, jackfruit and other tropical fruits.

Fruit Market
Saturdays and Sundays 11:30 a.m. to 3:30 p.m.
Fairchild Farm
14885 SW 248 St., Homestead, FL 33032

]]> http://www.occasionalomnivore.com/2010/07/06/fall-in-love-with-indian-mangos-at-fairchilds-18th-annual-international-mango-festival/feed/ 2 http://www.occasionalomnivore.com/2010/06/30/any-way-you-stack-panelle/ http://www.occasionalomnivore.com/2010/06/30/any-way-you-stack-panelle/#comments Wed, 30 Jun 2010 23:42:09 +0000 Caroline http://www.occasionalomnivore.com/?p=2155

With a half-forgotten bag of chickpea flour in the freezer and a bowl of rag-tag pesto in the fridge, I set out to make a (relatively) elegant vegetarian meal for next to nothing.

The chickpea flour went toward panelle—Sicilian fritters that I discovered last summer but hadn’t yet tried to replicate. Most panelle recipes are a simple combination of chickpea flour and water, cooked until thick, cooled, cut into squares, and fried until golden. My panelle recipe still needs tweaking (I had to contend with flour lumps), so you may want to try a version from Mario Batali or  Lidia Bastianich.

The pesto, along with sautéed spinach and a fried egg served as tasty concrete, holding together a stack of three panelle. The only thing that would have made this more delicious would have been a homemade garlicy mayo or maybe some melted cheese.

These panelle stacks are quite presentable, and they deliver big, satisfying mouthfuls of cheap, fried protein. But what I love most about this dish is its versatility. Depending on what’s in season or in your pantry, you could make any number of panelle stack combinations. More I want to try:

• Feta, fresh tomatoes, tapenade
• Roasted eggplant, pesto, wilted arugula
• Mozzarella, roasted tomatoes, basil, fried egg
• Curried vegetables, yogurt, chutney

They’ll be good no matter how you stack them.

Halloumi, a big thick slab of it, along with harissa (a hot chili paste used in North African cuisine), lemon zest, oregano and black pepper.

I’ve blogged about halloumi before. It’s a Cypriot cheese that can stand high heat without melting, making it perfect for grilling and frying. In the past, we’ve just topped salads with the warm, salty cheese. But this week we gave it a ruby embellishment, inspired by a recipe from the BBC’s Olive magazine. We wrapped the halloumi in red peppers and gave them a quick grill.

For the job, I bought four beautiful, colossal red bell peppers and tossed them in the fridge. Or so I thought. Really, I had dumped them in the freezer. And had I needed these peppers for a salad or raw dish, it would have been a disaster—but not so for halloumi-stuffed peppers.

Apparently, when you freeze peppers, the water in their cell walls expands, causing the tiny structures to burst. As the peppers defrost, they ooze water and lose their crunch. The peppers’ flavor, however, stays pretty much intact.

For this quick dinner, freezing took the place of pre-cooking the peppers to get them pliable. The fruit was soft enough to fold and lay flat on the grill. I’m not so fussy that I needed to remove the peppers’ thin, charred skins. But if skins aren’t for you, you may want to pre-cook the peppers for a few minutes on the grill instead of freezing them. That way, you can slip off the skins before the real grill action gets started.

As for the extras I layered onto the cheese, any flavorful combination will work. You could use a tapenade, maybe anchovy paste, capers, pesto … whatever you have on hand. And don’t worry if your cheese pokes its head out of the peppers. Halloumi is well behaved and won’t make mess of your grill.

As pictured, I plopped the stuffed peppers onto a bed of arugula, dressed in a vinaigrette of lemon, olive oil and more harissa. William and I adored this. If only halloumi were a smidge less expensive (nearly the price of grass-fed steaks for two), this would certainly make into our regular rotation. But for the love cheese and salt and the flavors of summer, add this dish to your next cookout or intimate weeknight meal for two.

Red Pepper-Wrapped Halloumi
4 large red bell peppers
2 8-ounce packages halloumi
Harissa (or another flavorful spread/paste, such as tapendade)
Zest of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon chopped fresh oregano (or other herb)
Black pepper
1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil

Instructions
Trim the tops and bottoms of the peppers, and reserve for another use. Pull out the seeds and ribs, and discard. Put peppers in a large plastic freezer bag, and freeze overnight. The next morning, put the frozen peppers into the refrigerator to defrost.

As you prep the peppers, heat a grill pan or grill on medium heat.

Split each block of halloumi into two thin sheets. Spread harissa (or other paste) onto the cheese. Top with lemon zest, oregano (or other herb), and black pepper.

Insert the halloumi into the pepper, trimming excess cheese, if desired. Brush the peppers with olive oil, and grill 5 to 7 minutes on each side.

Serves 4

I’ve always associated butternut squash with fall. But Miami’s growing seasons have surprised me once again. Last week’s summer sales from Redland Organics offered fat, fresh butternut squash.

But with temperatures in the 90s and big-hair-inducing humidity, I strayed from my usual winter squash repertoire of risotto, soup and polenta. Instead, I looked to the hot climate of India (and this original recipe from thekitchn.com) for inspiration and made a butternut squash curry with coconut milk and tamarind.

I don’t want my other recipes to feel self-conscious, but this is the most delicious dish I’ve made in a while. Sweet squash, just enough heat and spices, rich coconut milk and tangy tamarind concentrate yielded a thick, complex curry that touched every taste receptor on our happy tongues.

The squash remained firm after 45 minutes of cooking, which made this vegan meal surprisingly hardy. Leftovers only got better and were summarily killed the next day.

We ate this with sauteed spinach and basmati rice, but it also would make a beautiful side dish for an Indian feast. Just don’t tell the main course that the butternut squash is stealing the show.

Butternut Squash Curry with Coconut Milk
2 teaspoons coriander seeds
1 teaspoon cumin seeds
1/2 teaspoon fennel seeds
2 tablespoons canola oil
6 garlic cloves, thinly sliced
2 1/4-inch thick coins of fresh ginger
1 jalapeno, stems and seeds removed, and diced
1/2 teaspoon turmeric
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1 medium butternut squash, peeled and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
1 14-ounce can coconut milk
1 cup water
2 teaspoons tamarind concentrate
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 cup chopped cilantro

Instructions
Heat a small frying pan on medium heat, add coriander, cumin, and fennel seeds, and toast until the spices are fragrant and just begin to darken. Remove spices from heat, and allow them to cool. Pulverize mixture in a spice grinder.

Heat oil in a wide, deep frying pan or wide, shallow pot. Add garlic, ginger, and jalapenos; cook until garlic barely starts to turn pale golden. Stir in toasted spices, turmeric, cayenne, and red pepper flakes, and cook 2 minutes. Add butternut squash, coconut milk, water, tamarind concentrate, and salt. Bring curry to a boil, and reduce heat to low. Simmer, uncovered, for 40 to 45 minutes. Squash should be tender, and sauce should be thick.

Serve, and top with cilantro.

Serves 4 (main courses) and 6 (side dishes)

With eggplant from Redland Organic’s summer sales, William and I went on a two-day eggplant binge, starting with Moroccan Chicken with Eggplant, Tomatoes and Almonds from epicurious.com. We’re not big chicken fans, but the dish’s spice-heavy liquid (tomatoes + paprika, turmeric, coriander, fennel seeds, pepper, cumin and ginger) simmered once-bland chicken thighs in a seductive Middle Eastern bath. In my beautiful but underused tagine, I made a half batch of the recipe with double the eggplant and crunchy, toasted almonds. We had more than enough for four heaping portions.

This meal is low-fat (by my standards, at least) and light. We paired it with simple piles of couscous for dinner and big hunks of bread for sopping the next day at lunch.

On day two, I made a massive pot of Eggplant Pasta with Gorgonzola based on a recipe from thekitchn.com. The velvety sauce is imbued with an unmistakable funk of blue cheese. An Occasional Omnivore first, I  used less cheese than the original recipe called for. A little gorgonzola carries a ton of flavor weight, and I didn’t want the eggplant to get lost in a cheesy mess.

The eggplants in this dish are roasted instead of fried, which cuts prep time and clean up. And the underdog of the meal is a garnish of chopped parsley. It does more than sit pretty for photos. By sprinkling it on at the end, the grassy herb serves as a fresh foil to the rich gorgonzola.

If you’re looking for a quick, quirky alternative to pasta alla norma or eggplant parm, this is it.

Eggplant Pasta with Gorgonzola
6 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil, divided
2 medium eggplants
1 medium red onion, thinly sliced
3 cloves garlic, chopped
4 ounces cremini mushrooms, diced
1 cup crushed tomatoes
1/2 teaspoon red pepper flakes
1/2 cup packed basil, thinly sliced
1 pound fettucine
Salt and pepper
6 ounces gorgonzola, crumbled
1/4 cup chopped parsley

Instructions
Preheat oven to 400°. Toss eggplant with 4 tablespoons of olive oil. Spread the eggplant onto a large, rimmed baking sheet, sprinkle with salt and pepper, and roast until eggplant are tender and light golden, 20 to 25 minutes.

Meanwhile, bring a large pot of salty water to a boil. Also, heat remaining olive oil in a large pot, add onions, and cook 8 to 10 minutes, until they begin to caramelize. Add garlic, cook 1 minute more. Stir in mushrooms, crushed tomatoes, red pepper flakes, and basil. Bring to a boil, reduce heat, and simmer for 10 minutes.

Add pasta to boiling water, and cook according to package instructions.

Meanwhile, add roasted eggplant to sauce, and continue to simmer, at least five minutes. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Drain pasta, reserving 1/2 cup pasta water. Add water to the sauce, along with pasta and gorgonzola. Toss the pasta to coat it with the sauce. Divide pasta onto plates, and sprinkle with parsley.

Serves 5 to 6