in praise of scallions

The tangle of long green tresses just screamed Rapunzel. I had come upon a huge, beautiful bunch of scallions at a farmers market in Florida not long ago, the roots grown together in a matted mass with dirt still clinging to them. What a nice find! I immediately wanted to throw the entire bunch onto a charcoal grill and singe those long oniony locks with grill marks.

 This is a much depleted portion of the original bunch. Most supermarkets trim the tops of scallions so they make a neater package. I love the unruliness of the wilder state.

Scallions are genius.  They hold no glamor in the culinary world, but their versatility and resiliency under just about any cooking technique make them a must have in the kitchen. Throw them in to just about any savory dish and they add a freshness with their gentle bite and bright color. Slice them thin, the perfect round shape is instant eye candy and make a cheery garnish.  Use them raw in a simple green salad to add complexity. Put a single, slender bulb into a blender with oil, vinegar and salt for a salad dressing with a touch of attitude. A scallion or two in scrambled eggs will redefine your breakfast.

Sliced scallions look great on top of just about anything, even my wobbly hand made plate.

Cook them until wilted and add to vegetables, grains, soups, anything!  I rely on scallions to bring an immediacy to meals made from pantry staples like rice and beans.  Sauteed with oil or butter, a handful of scallions will make a satisfying topping for pasta.
Scallions are inexpensive, they easily keep for upwards of two weeks when stored in the fridge and the mild oniony flavor is always welcome. Many recipes call for using only the white part of a scallion, but I use the whole thing, and actually prefer the tender green tops to the white, fleshier bottom.
A bunch of scallions will get you through a long winter and are one of my most dependable ingredients.


Over the summer I took a pottery class at Brick House ceramic art center in Long Island City, an efficiently run studio with a friendly, un-intimidating atmosphere. The knowledgeable instructors at Brick House encouraged us all to be free to create our hearts desire. I compulsively began making serving dishes and bowls featuring undulating scalloped edges. My handbuilding skills are truly rudimentary, but I got deeply engrossed in the process of shaping the wet clay between my fingers and allowing my very relaxed mind to dictate the direction of the creation. The vessels ended up looking like variations of wavy lumps, but I am hooked and can't wait to take class again next summer.

 SPICY CHICKPEAS WITH CHERRY TOMATOES

RECIPE: This is a simple combination of sauteed onions and zucchini with a handful of chickpeas and cherry tomatoes bound together with a dollop of tomato sauce (plopped into the center of one of my handmade bowls.) Simmer for a few minutes to meld the flavors and add a large dash of hot sauce and a sprinkle of sliced scallions to bring up the heat.

nick of time

Deborah brings in the harvest...

Snow hit my garden early this year.

It is a game of chicken as the first frost looms over the garden. How long can I leave the last of the basil leaves and the few cherry tomatoes lingering on the vine before that heartless first frost abruptly claims all? I knew my days were numbered, but it always pains me to cut down the plants, a real summer finale, when I might possibly get one or two more days out of them.

This week I catered an evening event for the non-profit environmental news site Grist . The guest of honor was author Jonathan Franzen reading from his most recent novel, Freedom. The reading was followed by a lively interview of the writer conducted by the savvy and engaging Katherine Schultz, author of her own new book Being Wrong: Adventures in the margin of error.

Basil leaves "sous la neige"

Jonathan Franzen reads from his novel Freedom.

I wanted to use the last of the best from the summer growing season, so I managed to steel myself to the task of harvesting all of my variegated opal basil with the purpose of showcasing it in an hor d'oeuvre for the Grist party.
I decided to marinate bite-sized cubes of smoked mozzarella cheese in an olive oil I had infused with orange zest and red pepper flakes. The cheese is then rolled in toasted breadcrumbs, briefly warmed in the oven to get a little warm and oozy, then served on skewers wedged between cherry tomato halves and feathery basil leaves.

Fresh and light with a nod towards Spanish tapas, this simple hors d'oeuvre is perfect with wine and easy to nibble while listening, perhaps, to your favorite author talk about sex and birds.

The lovely Rachel kept the food moving.

Marinated Smoked Mozzarella Skewers

•cut a pound of smoked mozzarella into bite sized cubes

•mix 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil, 1 Tbs. red pepper flakes and the zest of two oranges together in a small bowl and stir to combine.

•pour the olive oil mixture over the cubed mozzarella and let it marinate for at least one hour or refrigerated overnight.

•in a small, dry saute pan toast on medium heat one cup of panko breadcrumbs, stirring continuously until the breadcrumbs turn golden brown

•heat the oven to 350 degrees

•one by one, remove the mozzarella cubes form the olive oil marinade and roll each piece in the breadcrumbs to cover all sides.

• lay the coated cheese in a single layer on a baking sheet and put in the hot oven for two minutes, until the cheese begins to soften but does not melt.

•Cut 30 cherry tomatoes (red or yellow or a combination of the two) in half across the middle so you have a top half and a bottom half, and lightly salt them.

•remove the smallest basil leaves from their stems and set aside

To Assemble:
• On a small skewer thread a cherry tomato half bottom, a softened cheese cube, a few small basil leaves and then the top of the cherry tomato. Repeat with the rest of the ingredients. Serve immediately.

a good read

Deborah discovers that not all chef's passions are created equal...

It is officially fall!

The humidity is really starting to get to me. My garden is infested with mosquitoes. I must brave the onslaught to harvest a handful of cherry tomatoes. Slap, slap, scratch, pick, pick, scratch. Might as well stay indoors and read.

I am a library junkie and pop in at least once a week to the closest branch in whatever borough I happen to be in. My long daily subway commutes to the three public schools, whose lunches I oversee for Wellness in the Schools, leaves me ample time to plow through many, many tomes.

Recently consumed are back to back readings of two great chef memoirs:
Life on the Line by Chicago restaurant Alinea's chef/owner, Grant Achatz
and Blood, Bones and Butter by NYC restaurant  Prune's chef/owner, Gabrielle Hamilton.

Both chef's books are highly engaging reads, emotionally moving and at times gripping. They cover their lives in the restaurant industry, the influences that inspire them and how they got to where they are now (rich and famous). But it is the differences in their approach that really struck me.

My garden coleus is hanging on till the first frost.

Achatz has achieved professional greatness with his exacting craft and hyper-perfection at Alinea, his fancy pants award winning restaurant that typically serves 25 course dinners composed of mind blowing original concoctions. No I have not eaten there (yet). Achatz's standards are so demanding that the Alinea kitchen feels more like a military command center than a place that feeds people. And aha, the catch is that he is not really trying to FEED people but rather, give them an unbelievable experience that only he can create. I want to go.

Hamilton is an earthy bad girl, stealing and lying her way into her early restaurant jobs. She is a bad ass and super cool. Her passion is about getting her hands dirty in the kitchen, creating something primal and sublime, food that is completely true to its origins, and she is unafraid to make it funky. I love her.

My just picked cherry tomatoes went into the oven smothered with olive oil, feta cheese and a few cloves of whole garlic and a spoonful of sugar to balance the tartness of the tomatoes. They bake at 400 degrees for at least half an hour. I want them to melt down to a gooey wonderfulness to eat on some crispy bread. I am more in the Hamilton camp of cooking.

 Out of the oven, warm and golden.

I want my food to taste great. I want to cook it simply. I want to enjoy its perfectness without artifice. Achatz will dazzle and delight and frankly I am so intrigued after reading his book that I am contemplating a trip to his restaurant in Chicago, but for me it will be an impressive trick, a good show, not a way of life.

 The smell and flavor of this preparation brought memories of pizza in Rome.