I’m racing with my farmers’ market buying this time of year. Rather than compost fodder, the bits and pieces left a day longer than their beauty lasted are my new favorite ingredients.
Show the old cast-iron skillet some love and unbury the food mill. Dust off the heavy-bottomed pot and grab a trusty cookbook for reference. Take stock of what is languishing in the refrigerator, on the counter or in the garden and let your food memories be your guide. We’re turning leftovers into eminently edible delights.
Let’s start with the grandmother of Bowls of Love. With its genesis in a pragmatic kitchen we all know how to make panzanella but it’ll get us in the mood.
Big bowl, a few wayward vine-ripened tomatoes … chop, chop … a healthy dash of salt to get the juices flowing and an ever-present garlic clove or two grated in for some gusto, a splash of olive oil, a dash of balsamic vinegar. A few hours later, tear in a handful of basil and chunks of yesterday’s bread to soak up the goodness. Go about the business at hand for another hour or so until the bread has absorbed the liquid, and you tell me: Is there a better example anywhere of a sum being greater than its parts? Pure magic.
Swap hot pasta for the bread and Summer Sauce saves the end of a busy day. Toss in leftover cheese, such as brie, and paradise is no longer lost.
Onion marmalade is my very good friend when local onions didn’t get the storage memo. Cooking time is variable but stick with it. Tackle one of those tasks you’ve been meaning to get to, like “the drawer.”
It goes like this: cast-iron skillet, medium-low heat, peel and cut the onions you need to use into ½-inch wedges lengthwise, discarding any soft cores and mushy bits, a tablespoon or two of butter in the heated pan followed by the onions, stir every 5 minutes or so with your favorite wooden spoon. When you’ve got deep, dark, rich brown caramelized onions, add sea salt, freshly ground pepper, herbs of choice.
It’s versatile stuff and lasts a good week refrigerated. When I heat up a spoonful to serve with a local cheddar omelet, if the season is right I add a splash of apple cider. Makes a fine goat cheese onion marmalade crostini, too, and adds depth to risotto, great garnish for soup, awesome on burgers and in sandwiches. You get the idea.
I can’t believe I’m writing this one out… Slice past-prime baguette or sourdough bread, drizzle with your best rockin’ olive oil on both sides and sprinkle with sea salt, lay slices on a sheet pan or aluminum foil under the broiler or toaster oven until browned. Turn the slices over (burning the heck out of your fingertips is true love which directly affects flavor for the better) and brown the other side. While hot, rub the top of the crostini with a clove of peeled garlic (and the end of a tomato if one’s around). This is a key step. You CANNOT make enough of these things! Take ’em to a party or hoard them for yourself.
Mini-batch spoon fruit was my aha! jam moment. If you’ve got a copper pot now’s the time to use it. When you’re done you can use the spent lemon halves and a bit of salt to polish up the pot … yes, seriously. It’s good kitchen mojo. Magic has a price.
Roughly cut boo-boo fruit into a heavy-bottomed pot. In goes just enough sugar for the fruit to stew in its own juices, maybe 1 part to 10 parts fruit. I like the fruit and sugar to tango for an hour before I add heat but it doesn’t always work out that way. No one notices. Got a vanilla bean? Throw it in, wash it off when the deed is done and let it dry on the windowsill before burying it in the sugar canister to use again later.
Bring the fruit and sugar to a boil. Careful eye here … stir so the fruit won’t burn or boil over; the stuff is molten lava. Lower heat to medium-low, skim the foam a little and let it bubble for 20 minutes or so, no worries about jammy-thickening. Here’s the trick: Off the heat squeeze in the juice of half a lemon. I don’t mind a pip or two in the final product … grandma factor. Stir and pour spoon fruit into jar. Cap on and let it cool. Eat on toast or with a spoon.
You can do this with rose petals and it is crazy great: Rub the rose petals with sugar (4 parts red or pink fragrant petals to 1 part sugar). A few hours later add about a quarter cup of water and follow the recipe above. Adding lemon juice restores the rose petal jam to its proper resplendent color. Serve with homemade croissants (you’re on your own, or call me).
Flavor your own yogurt by straining a quart of plain yogurt (use the whey as part of the liquid in a loaf of homemade bread). Blitz some overripe fruit in a blender, food processor or, better yet, a food mill. If you’ve read this far you are clearly drinking the Kool-Aid so go ahead and take the time to strain out the seeds by pushing the pulp through a strainer if you haven’t used a food mill. Mix the pulp into the yogurt and there you go. I serve it layered with homemade granola as a parfait.
Throw those Parmesan rinds in the freezer to flavor vegetable soups, trimmed duck fat renders for fried potatoes … and the crispy skin bits at the bottom of the pot? Nibbly bit extraordinaire!! I could go on all day but summer sun is calling.
Next time you are in the kitchen with an hour to spare, look around and give it a go. Grandmother wisdom loves to be wanted. It’s there for the asking.
