Misc – Page 3 – Experiments in my New World Kitchen and Garden

Easy Beans in a Slow Cooker

Two relatively recent books on slow cookers have inspired me to dust mine off. I go through periods where I am enchanted but often the results are a murky mess. Both Hugh Acheson’s The Chef and the Slow Cooker and Martha Stewart’s Slow Cooker are solid and deserving of your attention.

In the end, I think you can justify buying a slow cooker just for making beans. These books take it one step further.

You put in the beans, unsoaked if they are Rancho Gordo, a little onion, some garlic and maybe a spoonful of olive oil. That’s it. You can put them in in the morning and come home to a wonderful pot or you can start at night before going to bed and in the morning the house is filled with a lovely aroma like no other. You just woke up and you’ve already achieved something grand today!

A New Favorite Tool in the Kitchen

I have plenty of slotted spoons but a slotted ladle is a new one for me.

I got this one at our beloved local cookware store, Shackford’s, here in Napa. It really is one of our favorite places in town and it’s within walking distance of Rancho Gordo. In fact, if you’re coming to Napa and gave had your fill of wine, consider Rancho Gordo, Shackfords and Fatted Calf (and the entire Oxbow Market) as part of your itinerary.

As Bean People, I find this tool wildly useful.

The Burden of Fame: I Kind of Like It!

Fame is like caviar, you know – it’s good to have caviar but not when you have it at every meal.
-Marilyn Monroe

I’d be willing to try having caviar with every meal.

It’s not every day that there’s a New Yorker profile about you and your company. I loved it, but of course with an article that long and a subject as personal as beans, there are a few problems. But they’re insignificant and I forever will be grateful for this passage:

Watching Sando and Lupe cook, I realized what I’d been doing wrong. I’d been trying so hard to make my family love beans that my dishes had got more and more complicated, like the ones in Oklahoma. I’d added bacon, brown sugar, kielbasa, and Southern ham, whole heads of garlic and bunches of sage; I’d made minestrone, pasta e fagioli, and Brazilian feijoada. Good recipes, but poor psychology. Instead of showcasing the beans, I’d camouflaged them, turned them into a suspect food—an element to be rooted out, like the spinach that parents hide in pizza. “I hate recipes,” Sando said. “I always tell people to cook beans simply, and they always say, ‘Oh, I did. I just used a ham hock and chicken stock.’ Well, in that case you might as well use commercial pintos.”

I have been stressing this from the day I started. I know many folks want more recipes, but I suggest you first start with a bowl of perfectly cooked, perfectly seasoned beans and have them with everything: rice, a steak, a stir fry, a burger- whatever makes you happy. Beans are the perfect side dish and heirlooms deserve their moment in the spotlight as the star, not just another ingredient.

I also love this quote from me, which I don’t remember saying but it’s true!

Sando is a rather sheepish addition to that history. He’s uneasy about import regulations, fretful of cultural appropriation, and well aware of his fumbling grasp of Mexican custom. “I’m not the Indiana Jones of beans,” he told me. “I’m the Don Quixote.”

In the end, despite all the personal information about me, it’s about heirloom beans, and that’s what it should be. I only wish somehow that my joy of being in Mexico was conveyed. The feeling of carnitas fat running down your chin, the small freeze your body feels as you take that first sip of mezcal, the thrill of having your Mexican goddaughter sit on your lap and explain all the dinosaurs to you as she drips paletas juice on your guayabera, looking at a huge plate of breakfast thinking you could never in a million years and then finish every drop by sopping it up with a well-made tortilla, climbing pyramids and archaeological sites mostly in silence and best of all, sitting in the cab of Gabriel and Yunuen’s truck and planning and dreaming and loving that two of my best friends are from this magical place and I’m the fucking luckiest guy in the world. This didn’t make it into the article, and perhaps I don’t express this easily, but this is exactly why I keep my passport renewed and watch the airfares to Mexico City.

People are quick to tell me that I don’t really look like a bean. No worries. I am too old to have this kind of vanity and it clearly was poetic, not literal. Again, I think it’s a great article and Burkhard is a great writer and I was happy to share a slice of my life with him and the rest of the world.

And as if this all weren’t wonderful enough, I’ve discovered that Puddles Pity Party is a Bean Person. Applause. Slow curtain. The end.

You can read the complete article here.

A Simple Bean Broth Enjoyed Thrice (Yes, I Used This Pretentious Word)

Sometimes you make beans and there’s a lot of broth leftover. I have fallen so in love with bean broth that I make sure there’s plenty when I make beans. Some beans are better than others but most heirloom varieties produce a wonderful broth that’s worth eating on its own.

Here at Rancho Gordo, we make beans to sample and my favorite afternoon pick-me-up has gone from another cup of coffee to a delicious shot of bean caldo.

This batch, from Eye of the Goat beans, was used “as is” but I did add a teaspoon of tomato paste, just because the tube was out on the counter and it seemed to make sense. I added some previously cooked cactus paddles (you might substitute green beans, if you like) and a very few oven roasted tomatoes before I plopped an egg in for poaching. I don’t really know how you can improve something like this. My temptation was to dust it with Parmesan cheese but it really was perfect without it.

There was just a little left over and for the next meal I added some leftover chicken.

Yesterday I was doing some recipe testing and it included boiling mushrooms for 20 minutes. I made a quick soup from half mushroom water and half bean broth with a little grated ginger and a squeeze of lime. When you have a working kitchen, there’s no need for shortcuts.

A Simple Soup with Bean Broth

I’m so glad to have chickens again!

You just can’t beat fresh eggs. I get a wee bit frustrated by the prices at the farmers markets here in the Bay Area but in the end, I think it’s worth the extra money. But it’s also worth the hassle to have a flock if you have the space and the inclination.

I poached an egg and added it to a simple soup of chicken broth, bean broth, Oregano Indio and cooked nopales. If the broth is good and the eggs are fresh, you can’t beat this simplicity.

A Clay Cazuela from Oaxaca with Shrimp, Acuyo Sauce and Pasta

A few years ago I was on a road trip through Oaxaca with my pals Yunuen and Gabriel of the Xoxoc Project, as per the usual, hunting for beans and clay pots.

This cazuela we found in Ixaltapec, on the isthmus. Sadly, the whole region was hit with a horrendous earthquake last year. A lot of the attention seems to have gone to the Mexico City quake, which was also bad, but the Oaxacan recovery has been much slower.

Recipe: Shrimp in Acuyo
influenced by the cuisine of Veracruz

10 small to medium sized leaves Hoja Santa (also known as Acuto or Hierba Santa)
1 serrano chile, chopped
1 small bunch of cilantro chopped
half a bunch of epazote, chopped
6 tomatillos, without wrapper
3 cloves garlic, chopped
water
olive oil
salt
1 pound shrimp
pasta

Place the hoja santa, serrano chile, cilantro, epazote, tomatillos and garlic in a blender with just enough water to allow the blades to move and blend all the ingredients. Blend until smooth.

Heat the oil in a pan (or clay cazuela) over medium heat until it starts to ripple. Add the blender mix and stir. Bring to a simmer over medium low heat and continue to cook for about 7 minutes. Add salt to taste. Add the shrimp and cook until pink, about 5-7 minutes.

Toss over cooked pasta and serve.

2017: Not My Favorite Year, or Was It?

The holidays are over and there’s a lot of work to do but my mind and heart are not in the game.
I think it’s better I should look through my photos from this last year and do my year in review post. Like for many of you, it hasn’t been a stellar year. In fact, it mostly stank. But there were some wonderful moments and meals and milestones and looking over these images, I feel like an ingrate. So maybe it wasn’t so bad.

The Californio Dinner
My friends in Sutter Creek and I decided to do a pop up dinner. Chef Lucy Gore (who was camera shy) planned the menu as a tribute to the Californio era, before we became a state. The menu and food were inspired and Sutter Creek Provisions’ Casey and Derek went all out with a beer pairing and decorations of their seminal establishment. I loved getting out of town and meeting so many Rancho Gordo bean people, especially Bean Club members. It was a fun night.

What the Hell Did We Just Go Through? Some Thoughts about The Fire

I was driving the other day with my son and noticed a new area that had been damaged by the fires. I hadn’t noticed it before.
I turned to him and said, “What we just went through was really awful. Horrible.”
“Yeah, it was.”

After been evacuated for two weeks, much of it not knowing if our house was even standing, then coming home and dealing with lack of electricity, the smells, the damage, AT&T (a corporation that deserves some kind of award for being the best example of what is truly awful about our culture and country right now) and just getting back to “normal” as soon as possible, there hasn’t been a lot of reflection. The end of the year, and now the tragedies of the fires in Southern California give me pause.

I think of a fire as something horrible that happens. It occurs. You’re lucky. Or you’re not, but it happens and you go back and try and pick up the pieces. Previously we’ve had fires much less serious and teams of firefighters swarmed my mountain and fixed things. This was different. I got calls throughout the night. I was evacuated by a neighbor pounding on my door at 6 in the morning and I felt if we could get past this day, we’d be OK. But this day led to another day and the next thing you know, we can’t get back home. But the fire maps and news reports seemed to indicate my place was safe. Until they didn’t. Then someone would report that they snuck up the mountain and saw my place standing. And then a fireman would say it was pretty rough in my neighborhood and to be prepared for the worst. This went on for two weeks.

My dreams were of dinner parties. My friends and family were all gathered around my dining room table. I could feel the plates. I felt the knobs on my old stove. I chopped onions and I brought out platter after platter of food. Then I would hear the crackling of the fire outside and suddenly wake up. This was night after night while I was evacuated.

There was a check point at the bottom of Mount Veeder and neighbors would swap stories about their experiences and share information, which was very slow in coming. There were lawn chairs and drinks and a California Highway patrolman was like the host, giving sympathy and information as he could. I wish I’d take down his name to thank him. Once I saw a big old Trans Am pull up to the police barricade and an older gal in short shorts and her daughter, also dressed for the beach, got out and handed the officer a stack of what must have been 12 pizza boxes. They just bought the pizzas and thought they would help. A CalFire truck pulled up and gratefully accepted them and rushed up the hill and the women went back into their cars and left. I burst out crying. I was touched by a true random act of kindness in scary and ugly times.

We were lucky enough to stay in a very nice house in Downtown Napa as we tried to figure out what to do but I’ll never forget the awful smells and heavy air, combined with the thick haze and constant sirens. To call it a war zone would cheapen the experience of going through a war but it was surely a state of emergency.

On my mountain, a fire fighter died bringing water up. On my first ride home after the evacuation had been lifted, there was a makeshift altar in his honor. As I slowly drove up the steep grade, I saw that there was a line of 6 or 7 people waiting silently to pay their respects. One at a time they’d lower their heads at the cross with his name on it, maybe somehow trying to thank him for his service.

I went to Walmart to buy drinks for the crews and the neighbors who were waiting at the bottom of the hill. It was the closest store and I have to be honest, my inner snob really dislikes this store. It was amazing walking around. I saw crews from all over the state and the country. Firefighters with names of towns I’d barely heard of were shopping in Walmart. I wanted to run up to them and tell them we had much better places to shop and then I caught myself. I randomly thanked them instead.

Everyone reacts to this kind of thing differently but I found it very off-putting when some factions were urging people to come visit Napa, before all the fires were out and before we’d buried our dead. People died. It was serious. People with vacation rentals suffered but it felt inappropriate to ask people to come as tourists when the air was so bad that the schools were still closed and we were mostly wearing masks to breathe.

Happily, our damage was not to our home. “Normal” is back, except then the wind shifts in a certain direction, but I have my friends and family around my table and it’s for real and it’s something I’ll never take for granted again.

Trout in Hoja Santa

I talk a lot about Hoja Santa (Yierba Santa/Acuyo) in these pages. I am so thrilled to have a happy, thriving plant. It’s delicious and I love just going outside to harvest leaves for sauces and dishes like this.

I wrapped the leaves around a trout, after stuffing it with lemons and parsley. I tied it up with butcher string and cooked it directly on a hot pan, for about six minutes per side.

You don’t have a nice skin to eat but it’s cooked perfectly. I would imagine you can do something similar with grape or fig leaves but I really do love the flavor of the hoja santa.

Of course, I’d insist on serving this with a side of beans. Heirlooms. Rancho Gordo, perhaps?

Decadent Simplicity: Poached Fish in a Corn Husk

After biblical winter rainstorms and a scorching season of heat waves, things in Northern California seemed to have calmed down. We’re back to fresh mornings, hot days and fog rolling in for the night. Repeat. It’s a lovely trend and I want to eat outside as much as I can. The rains seem to have washed away all the wasp nests and our usual yellowjacket plague is not happening, knock wood.

For the 4th of July, I took some Pacific cod and marinated it with olive oil and our Oregano Indio. The oregano is a natural for fish. I added some sliced Bermuda onions for good measure.

I just washed my campy ballerina flower frog (she has holes in the base so you can add short stalks of flowers for a stunning kitsch look) and I used her to weigh down the corn husks soaking in hot water. These are the exact ones you’d use for making tamales.

I added a small bit of the marinated fish and some onions on each corn husk, folded them into a packet and then tied them with string. There wasn’t very much in each one which kept things simple and made the tying up easier.

This is my beautiful cazuela from San Marcos Tlapazola. I find it cooks hotter than other clay pieces. It’s beautiful but I don’t tend to use it often. I think from this moment on, it will be dedicated to fish dishes.

Over a medium flame, I added onion, garlic, celery, carrot and parsley to water and let it cook for about 15 minutes for a nice court bouillon. Next time I’ll add the smallest splash of pineapple vinegar.

I very gently poached each packet and checked one after about 20 minutes. It was perfectly done. The poaching was very gentle and I suppose the corn husk was thick and protective. I would check one after about 12 minutes next time but I think the oiled fish and thick wrap make this a more forgiving fish dish than most.

A perfect two bites!

We ate dinner outside with gin and tonics, beet greens with black walnuts and some rebosero beans. It was just about perfect. You can see the steam sill coming from the fish dish long after the cazuela rested on the table. I just love cooking with clay.

Here’s a cool bonus: Before the meal even starts, you can start out with a small bowl of the broth, now flavored with the fish and the husk along with the vegetables. It’s a great way to start a meal anyway, but this was especially carefree.

A perfect night. There were no fireworks on our mountain and for me I’d rather celebrate Independence day with indulgent natural silence than a neighbor shooting off some sad fireworks. I also love a big show but this is a case of go big or go home. I was happy to go home!

The only drag was those damned deer eating my apples and pears. There’s still plenty for us so I will relax about it. For now.