Twomey's Turkeys

Spent a lovely fall afternoon interviewing the charming Joe Twomey at his farm in Groton. Twomey raises American Bronze Turkeys, an endangered species of heirloom turkeys. But don't even think about trying to buy one. He sells them to friends, family members and neighbors who have signed-up a year in advance for one of the juicy, flavorful birds. If you want one of his birds for next year, you'll have to "friend" him, and I don't mean on Facebook; I mean the old fashioned way. He doesn't make any money on the enterprise, only enough to supply his family with one huge bird, which he cooks in this...

It cooks all day long since the oven only gets up to 300 degrees. Turning the turkey every hour becomes a major event in his lively household (he has 8 children who all turn-up for Thanksgiving dinner, with accompanying grandchildren and in-laws). It takes 2 people to turn the thing and 1 to hold-open the door! But, as you know, I've been there. Have a Happy Turkey Day.

Art Imitating Life?

Here's where I spent a chilly Thursday afternoon recently, interviewing the resident miller for an upcoming article for edibleBOSTON. The issue comes out in early December.

There is real milling going on here, despite the theme-park atmosphere (a veritable "New England World") and the miller is a treasure-trove of historical information, not to mention a regular jokster. During my 2-hour-long interview with him, he verbally pounced on an unsuspecting duo of tourists, one from Brazil, the other from Israel, with whom he teased and joked and then tested their flour-milling knowledge; but all in good fun. And they were extremely good-natured about it and went away feeling they had had a unique travel experience, having encountered an eccentric old miller in an 18th century drafty, mill.

Anyway, you can actually purchase whole wheat flour and corn meal that the miller has just ground. Bags are for sale in the mill itself and also in the Wayside Inn's gift "shoppe." The Wayside Inn is the 300-yr. old non-profit organization that keeps the mill in operation. It's down the road a bit from the mill and is worth a visit, especially on a beautiful (real) New England fall day. And you can make some darn-good corn muffins with the stuff, too. Here's the recipe--if you click on the photo it'll get big enough to read. Enjoy!

Attention Deficit Disorder or A Comfortable Rut?

A friend asked me recently, good-naturedly, “Do you only read books about food?” We had been having one of those “have you read this? No, but have you read this?” book discussions, and I stopped short at her question. I like to think of myself as roundly read but maybe I’m not. A quick check of the growing pile of books I’m currently reading, neatly stacked on the floor of my office (some with handmade bookmarks to remind me of where I had stopped reading, some simply dog-eared) revealed the following list:


* My Life in Food, by Judith Jones
* A Short History of the Stomach, by Frederick Kaufman
* It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time: My Adventures in Life and Food, by Moira Hodgson
* The Widow Clicquot: The Story of a Champagne Empire and the Woman Who Ruled It, by Tilar Mazzeo
* Best Food Writing 2008, ed. by Holly Hughes
* Between Meals: An Appetite for Paris, by A. J. Liebling
* Red, White and Drunk All Over, by Natalie MacLean
* The Cheese Chronicles, by Liz Thorpe
* Passion on the Vine, by Sergio Esposito
(can you believe this…?)
* Goat Song, by Brad Kessler
* Well-Preserved (yes, I’m one of those who reads cookbooks), by Eugenia Bone
* Local Flavors, by Deborah Madison.

but, wait! The stack with the bookmarks also had:


* Hawthorne in Concord, by Philip McFarland
* Gomorrah (only got as far as the first chapter on this one), by Roberto Saviano
and…
* The Forger’s Spell, by Edward Dolnick
* Revolutionary Road, by Richard Yates.


So, what does this say about me besides that I like using Amazon’s “1-Click?” Actually, I love bookstores, too. I have no answer except that each of these books is a pleasure to read and each has something to teach us—about good food, about where our food comes from, about the production of wine, and about good writing. Let me know if you’d like to borrow any. Enjoy!

Book-Signing with Eugenia Bone

On Saturday I had tea with the charming Eugenia Bone, author of Well Preserved: recipes and techniques for putting up small batches of seasonal foods. Well, not just me, me and about 40 other mostly middle-aged women--the only male was the waiter.

Eugenia talked about "your kitchen's eco-system," about the joy of excavating all our commercially canned and prepared foods, tossing them out, and replacing them with local, seasonal, home-canned items that will provide the ingredients needed for a meal later in the year and that represent our own palates--that's key.

She's a lively, expressive speaker, who uses a lot of hand gestures (she's Italian, after all, although I can't figure out her cute little turned-up nose, since, being totally Italian myself, I've sported somewhat of a honker my whole life--must be from her non-Italian mother's side?). Her father, Ed Giobbi, is the acclaimed cook-book author and artist who, she tells us, really influenced her canning future. She grew-up watching him can tuna, tomatoes, olives, whatever was in season and that he could wrestle into their kitchen. The book is full of anecdotes of growing up in her Italian home.

Anyway, she really makes you want to can.

Eugenia's talk was given at Upstairs at the Square in Harvard Square. Guests were served tea and a plate of the most delicious, house-made morsels and comestibles--things like huckleberry preserves, ginger butter cookies and a nibble of smoked salmon on a tiny brioche--yummmmm! Everyone at the tea left with Eugenia's book and feeling well-fortified to face the gray Cambridge afternoon.

If you'd like more canning inspiration read how a few local folks do it in my Summer 2009 article in edibleBOSTON magazine: "Everything Old is New Again"
http://www.ediblecommunities.com/boston/summer-2009/everything-old-is-new-again.htm

Happy canning!

Tagliatelle Catanese

Here it is, the beginning of another lovely October.

It's been a while since I've written about my culinary adventures. I've been busy interviewing turkey farmers, managing a farmers market and experimenting with my new oven! Here, finally is a recipe (with a story of course) that you can use right now--don't wait.

I do so look forward to this time of year just so I can make the perfect, homey, comforting Tagliatelle Catanese. I have been making this all-vegetable recipe for years and I have my hero, Patricia Wells, to thank. When I first discovered the recipe in her 1989 cookbook, Bistro Cooking, I decided to make it for friends who are big meat eaters. I promised them that although there is no meat in the dish, they wouldn’t miss it since the dish was so substantial and flavorful. However, I committed the most basic of sins a cook can make—I didn’t read the recipe all the way through before I started it! Have you ever done that--been so excited to try a new recipe that you just start right in? I'm afraid I've been guilty of that on more than one occasion.

Anyway, our friends arrived at 6:00 and I had just finished combining the ingredients for Tagliatelle Catanese in a large skillet thinking that it only needed a few, quick, hot tosses in the pan. But then I checked the recipe and read, “cover and continue simmering slowly, for at least an hour.” Urrrrrrgh. So, I simply served it under-done (I hate crunchy veggies unless I’m dipping them in something really good), and the sauce tasted raw and metallic. Our friends went away convinced that nothing could substitute for the satisfaction of eating meat.

But they're wrong, and since then I’ve come to love this dish for it’s endless possibilities, its layers of flavors, for how well the flavor improves in the frig, and for how the taste changes depending on the quality of the produce and the olive oil you use. Although this recipe can be made any time of year—and I've made it in all seasons, using supermarket produce—there’s nothing quite like making it when all the ingredients are local, in season, and at their ripest and most flavorful. The dish just shouts “Fall” to me, my favorite season, when the days are (as my friend Elisabetta puts it) “golden and potato chip-crisp.” This time I bought all the veggies at Verrill Farm: their own multi-colored heirloom tomatoes, red peppers (in funny, misshapen sizes and colors), and tiny purple and striped eggplants.

So, gather your harvest, pour yourself a glass of robust red, sharpen your favorite knife and begin to chop. The ingredients are few and simple. But hurry, tomato season is just about over.


Tagliatelle Catanese (serves about 4-6, but increase all the proportions so you'll have some left over; you can't spoil this dish as long as you use good ingredients; the flavors will change in relation to the quality and proportions of the vegetables you use; also, you can eat it cold)

Extra Virgin Olive Oil, the best; read the harvest date--shouldn't be more than a year old; some for cooking tomatoes and some for browning the eggplant--about 4-6 tablespoons.
10 medium fresh tomatoes chopped or 1 can whole tomatoes, crushed, with juice.
1 large eggplant, unpeeled, cut into bit-size cubes.
4 large red bell peppers, cored and seeded and cut into same.
1/2 teaspoon or more red pepper flakes.
Salt and Pepper to taste.

1 lb. Tagliatelle or other flat ribbon pasta.

Heat 1/2 of the oil in a deep skillet and cook the tomatoes for about 10 minutes on med. high heat.
In another skillet, heat rest of oil and brown all the eggplant.
Add the eggplant and then the bell peppers to the tomatoes in the deep skillet and stir. Season with the hot pepper, salt and pepper (taste it).
Cover and simmer gently, stirring occasionally, for about an hour (or even more. If it's watery, take off the cover and let it cook down a bit).

Cook the tagliatelle in salted water and drain.

Divide pasta amongst bowls and top with sauce. Pass the Parmigiano Reggiano if you like.

Happy Autumn...