Locovore: Loco for Local

No, not a typo. I recently had friends over for the last largish meal I made before leaving Rhode Island to return to my desert home for the academic year, and realized that, without even trying, every single thing we ate was locally produced. On an island (Conanicut, otherwise known as Jamestown).  Don’t you just love that? 

It was hot in the morning, and the forecast was for thunderstorms. My friends don’t care for the heat. And my cottage is little and, of course, doesn’t have air conditioning. So I decided to make a dinner that I could cook before the rain and serve at room temperature. What a great excuse: that’s actually one of my favorite ways to eat.

My friend Wayne (source of the mussels) had called me up and offered me some fresh-caught Bluefin tuna “head steaks”; I learned that this was the meat right behind the head that was cut off in preparing a giant tuna to be sold. My friends may not like the heat, but I knew they liked tuna, so of course I said yes.  Wayne swung off the bridge to drop me the fish on his way out to another fish-spotting gig.

Now, Jamestown has a surprising amount of meat and poultry for such a tiny place: grassfed beef, pasteured pork, chicken, and lamb.  And your usual lot of summer vegetables, plus the early gift of fresh-dug potatoes. Surprisingly, tomatoes were early this year. Surprising because of the brutal winter—did that do something to speed them up?—and just because. I usually have to return to school before the really nice tomatoes are in—and these are field tomatoes we’re talking here, beautiful in early August.The meat and produce are from Windmist Farm,and Hodgkiss Farm.

So here is the menu, with some pictures of ingredients. While I made a very satisfying visit yesterday to our own impressive farmer’s market here in Tucson, I have to say, to paraphrase Dorothy, there’s no place like New England.

A Jamestown Dinner

Dinner for Friends on a Muggy Day Threatening Thunderstorms

Tuna Tartare on potato chips

Figs with goat cheese sweetened with honey and fresh thyme

Everything-grilled salad of chicken, beef, onions, peppers, yellow and zucchini squash, and corn (see this post)

Green beans marinated with olive oil and fresh oregano

Tomato and mozzarella (from Narragansett Creamery) salad  

Ciabatta from Venda Ravioli

Organic Blueberries and Peaches with Maple Sour Cream

Back in LC: Green, and Green Beans

I arrived in Little Compton late Wednesday, after a series of travel setbacks, but in time for the Fourth. I brought the sun and the warmth and blue skies with me from Arizona, as I promised I would. Everyone is grateful, and I was happy to oblige.  Who knew I had such power.

The fact that everyone was begging for sun and warmth, however, tells you what it has been like here. In a word, raining.  And in another word, cool.  In addition to being a total drag after a brutal winter and miserable spring, it has been quite difficult for the farmers.  I can only imagine the stress as we approached the fourth, and they had no corn: it’s like having to tell a bunch of kids on Christmas that there will be no presents. At least, that’s how it is here. We’ve been known to eat corn as a main course.

Coll Walker had no corn (we looked for the corn flag, a sign of victory if there ever was one, in vain—the second time in history that there was, yikes, no corn on the 4th), but he did have beautiful slim beans, bushy basil, and truly giant lettuces (there’s always someone who thrives on the chilly weather). Young Farm, however, managed to pick a small amount of corn, and I snagged a few ears. I can be a creature of habit on holidays, but decided to forgo the potato salad in honor of these determined vegetables. Corn and beans are starchy sisters.

And I made a home version of the Newport Creamery burger—a relatively thin burger, grilled, and immediately placed between two buttered pieces of lightly toasted white bread, with tomato (also Coll’s) and lettuce, mayo and ketchup, and a generous amount of salt and paper. The toast absorbs some of the burger juices, and it is all very tasty; toast should be very light (lighter than in the photo) so the bread won't break on cutting. Times have changed—Newport Creamery used to make all their burgers this way—but thankfully, still have one on the menu.

Everything here in Rhode Island is so green, in stark contrast to the desert I just left. The air smells of grass and the sea, and the humidity (100% a few days ago!) was a welcome wave over my parched skin when I first landed. But I am settling back in, I guess: it's getting a little too humid even for me. Off to the beach!

Summer Veggies with Sour Cream

Long before recycling, waste not, want not New Englanders put sour dairy products to good use. We love our sour milk and sour cream, and of course, our buttermilk. All contribute to tender and tangy baking products. But sour cream, like plain heavy cream, does amazing quick duty as a sauce—for noodles and meats, and also for vegetables. This is a very New England side dish. Adjust according to whatever quantities you have on hand. Serves 2.

 

½ lb fresh new green beans

2 ears fresh-picked corn, shucked

1 T unsalted butter

2-3 T sour cream

Salt

Pepper

1 large scallion, white and green parts, sliced

2-3 big leaves fresh basil, chiffonade

Break the stem ends from the beans and cut the corn off the cob with a sharp knife. Bring a pot of water to the boil; drop in the beans and a little salt, and cook for about 3 minutes; add the corn and cook for another minute. Drain.

Melt the butter in a sauté pan and add the beans and corn, tossing to coat and heat through. Add the scallions and toss for a minute or so over low heat—don’t brown anything. Add the sour cream, salt, and pepper, and stir for another minute or so. Add the basil, toss once more, and taste for seasoning. Remove from the heat and serve immediately. If you make it a little ahead, add up to another T of sour cream when reheating. You could add some chopped tomato if you wish.

Pole Beans: A Wonder

    

Those of you who are home gardeners, or who are old enough to remember “when green beans were green beans”—stringy, large, and grown vertically rather than in bushes—will remember the Kentucky Wonder. I remember my father, a suburban dweller and an occasional gardener with a country man’s heart, raving about them.

Originally called “Old Homestead,” the Kentucky Wonder has been around for over 150 years and is enjoying renewed interest as an heirloom variety. While the venerated Blue Lake variety is more popular, especially in the East, the Kentucky Wonder is being rediscovered. In the South, it was never lost, and remains the choice bean for stewing with a little smoked pork.

While not nearly as smooth, straight, and beautiful and deep green as Blue Lakes, Kentucky wonders certainly take the prize on size. This is a major reason for their name, but another is their wonderful true green-bean flavor. Yes, they can be stringy (unlike Blue Lakes) or a bit tough, but only if they are old. If you grow them, or locate them very fresh, you will find they have a beautiful snapping quality—hence their other moniker, snap beans—and may not need stringing at all. The fresh-picked beans pictured here did not.

Look for beans that are long (curvaceous is fine) and bulging with seeds, but flexible (not leathery) to the touch; snap one as a test of its freshness and taste it. A good pole bean is tasty raw, not fibrous or tough. They will only need breaking off the stem end. Cook them as soon after buying them as you can, as they will toughen and lose flavor with storage.

Coming across these beans at the farmer’s market took me back. I am accustomed to cooking my green beans uncovered for four minutes—and serving them bright and crisp-tender with butter and salt. But these beans call for something slower and more old-fashioned. They are still cooked this way in the South. And they are delicious.

Pole Beans with Smoked Ham Hock

If fresh, these beans could technically be eaten after 30-45 minutes of cooking. But if you double that amount of time, you will have greater depth of flavor—and a wonderful “pot liquor” in which to dunk some cornbread—and still have good texture. The directions are general, as this is not precise cooking. Have old, somewhat overgrown Blue Lakes or other beans? Try them this way. You can also add some small potatoes for the last half-hour of cooking for a nice one-pot vegetarian meal. Serves 4.

1 lb pole beans, such as Kentucky Wonder
½ lb lightly smoked ham hock (with bone) or 1/3 lb slab bacon
1 small onion
big pinch salt
1 cup or more light ham or chicken stock, or water
half a mild chile, such as Hatch, Anaheim, or Poblano

Remove the stems from the beans and snap them into pieces about 2” in length. Set aside.

Cut the meat off the hock and chop it into small pieces, or dice the bacon. Render in a Dutch Oven or other heavy pot. Slice or chop the onion and add it to the rendered fat; sauté over medium heat until both the pork and the onion are lightly brown. 

Add the snapped beans and sauté for a few minutes. Add a big pinch of salt and add stock just to cover the beans. Bring to a boil, then reduce the heat to a simmer, cover, and cook for about 45 minutes. Add the chile and cook for another 15-30 minutes.