|
|
|
|
|
Across the Kitchen Table:
|
|
|
|
Another Bite Goes on the Road!
A Field Trip to Chowder Central
|
| No one knows who made the first chowder, nor is there one "true" recipe for chowder. Like the fishing communities and farms of the Atlantic seaboard where it originated perhaps 300 years ago, chowder is unpretentious. It’s a one-dish meal that is more than a soup, less than a stew. It usually can be assembled in a few minutes and left to simmer on its own, literally on the back burner. Above all, chowder is adaptable to whatever ingredients are on hand.
Certain types of chowder are identified with certain regions: milk-based clam chowder with New England; tomato-brothed chowder with New York; spicy brown fish chowder with Bermuda (where it is practically the national dish); corn and chicken chowder with the Midwest; salmon chowder with the Pacific Northwest. These distinctions need not be taken too seriously, however; the truth is, cooks everywhere improvise constantly, and chowder is one of the easiest genres for doing just that.
Last year, renowned Boston chef Jasper White published a book, 50 Chowders : One Pot Meals-Clam, Corn and Beyond), that brilliantly explores the world of chowder, its lore, and its possibilities. At the same time, Mr. White opened a restaurant in Cambridge (just outside Boston proper) called Jasper White’s Summer Shack, dedicated to serving the freshest and best seafood around, and at reasonable prices.
What better place to taste-test chowder than at the author’s own restaurant? On a crisp late-summer afternoon, with a tailwind from the northwest carrying a hint of fall, my husband, son, and I set out for Cambridge. For those who enjoyed the elegance and formality of his earlier restaurants in Boston, notably Jasper’s in the Bostonian Hotel in the 1980s and ‘90s, you can leave your dress-up clothes in the closet. The first words that came to mind when we walked in were "fun" and "funky." The designers aimed for the "lobster shack on the coast of Maine" look, and they succeeded. Two 80-gallon stainless-steel lobster cookers dominate the main dining room. Square wooden tables that seat four and long picnic tables for larger parties are covered with brown paper (to soak up all the melted butter served with those lobsters).
Unlike fancy restaurants, which are usually very hush-hush, people at the Summer Shack laugh and talk in normal voices. It’s not noisy, just friendly. At the picnic table next to us, a large extended family was celebrating the one-month "birthday" of a new baby (who slept through it all). A raw bar offers the freshest of shellfish, and a second bar (with full menu) is an oasis for adults who like it quiet.
Three chowders were on the menu, and we ordered them all. We added fried clams, Digby Bay scallops, and fish and chips to our tab, and while we waited demolished a basket of warm corn bread and light-as-a-feather dinner rolls. (The waiter was happy to bring more.) Meanwhile, the chowders arrived, steaming hot and fragrant. In the interest of scientific research, we passed them around and tried to make smart-sounding comments.
Here’s our take on the chowders: The Creamy Clam Chowder was simple and satisfying, a nice balance of fresh clams, potatoes, and onions, and best of all it was not too thick (a pet peeve is gloppy clam chowder thickened with flour to the consistency of wallpaper paste). The Chicken and Corn Chowder was buttery, well salted, and seasoned to bring out the flavors of the chunks of chicken and golden niblets of corn. The Spicy Bermuda Fish and Crab Chowder was in another realm, at once rich and exotic and stimulating to the palate. Its appearance may be dark and plain, but the flavors are heightened with garlic, rum, cloves, and hot sauce, so that each spoonful made me marvel at the complexity of the taste.
Our entrees were just as tasteful. It takes a light hand to fry seafood, and our clams, scallops, and fish were tender and not greasy. The French fries are hand-cut and flecked with kosher salt. The coleslaw was nice and tart. The service was attentive, and it was easy to simply relax and eat, care free, in the professional hands of Jasper White and his associates. The restaurant’s motto, by the way, is "Food Is Love!"
As we headed home to New Hampshire, I turned to the chowder book to find recipes for the ones we’d just enjoyed, and marked half a dozen more to try myself this fall. Or maybe we’ll just jump in the car and head back to Chowder Central. If you live within driving distance, I hope you do the same.
Jasper White’s Summer Shack (149 Alewife Parkway, Cambridge, MA 02140) is open for lunch and supper Monday through Saturday, and from 3 p.m. to 9 p.m. on Sunday. A second Summer Shack is opening this fall at the Mohegan Sun resort in Uncasville, Connecticut. Call the Cambridge restaurant at 617-576-2433, or visit the Web site at www.summershackrestaurant.com.
|
|
"What better
place to
taste-test
chowder
than at
the author’s
own restaurant?"
|
Sample Recipes from 50 Chowders by Jasper White
|
New England Fish Chowder
|
| This is just the bare-bones recipe for a quintessential chowder (actually, the bones are removed). Those who have the book will enjoy the author’s witty and helpful notes on the finer points of making it.
For the stock, the author strongly recommends making homemade fish stock from the head and bones of the fish. Chicken stock is second-best; water is a last resort (don’t worry, the chowder will still taste good!)
|
4 ounces meaty salt pork, rind removed and cut into 1/3" dice
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 medium onions, cut into 3/4" dice
6 to 8 sprigs fresh summer savory or thyme, leaves removed and chopped
2 dried bay leaves
2 pounds Yukon Gold, Maine, PEI, or other all-purpose potatoes, peeled and sliced 1/3" thick
5 cups fish stock, chicken stock, or water
kosher or sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 pounds skinless haddock or cod fillets, preferably more than 1" thick, pinbones removed
1-1/2 to 2 cups heavy cream
chopped fresh parsley and minced chives for garnish
Render the diced salt pork in a heavy soup pot over low heat and cook until the pork is a crisp golden brown. Remove cracklings with a slotted spoon and reserve, leaving the fat in the pot. Add butter, onions, savory or thyme, and bay leaves to the pot and sauté, stirring occasionally, until onions are softened. Add the potatoes and the stock. Add additional water to cover the potatoes if needed. Bring to a boil, cover, and cook until the potatoes are soft on the outside but still firm inside, about 10 minutes. Mash a few of the potatoes against the side of the pot to thicken the stock. Season assertively with salt and pepper. Place the fish fillets on top of the potatoes and cook over low heat for 5 minutes, then remove the pot from the heat and allow the chowder to sit for 10 minutes (the fish will finish cooking).
Gently stir in the cream and taste for salt and pepper. If you are making the chowder a day ahead (like chili, chowder tastes even better the second day), let it cool in the refrigerator uncovered (add the cover after it has cooled completely). Otherwise, let it sit for up to an hour at room temperature to allow the flavors to meld. To serve, reheat gently without boiling. Warm the reserved salt-pork cracklings in a low oven (200°F) for a few minutes.
Use a slotted spoon to mound the chunks of fish, the onions, and potatoes in the center of large soup plates or shallow bowls, and ladle on the creamy broth. Scatter cracklings over the servings and sprinkled with chopped parsley and minced chives. Makes about 14 cups; serves 8 as a main course.
|
Skillet Corn Bread
|
| Make this in a well-seasoned 8" or 9" cast-iron skillet or a round cake pan of the same size. The bread is a perfect accompaniment to the chowder. |
1 cup yellow cornmeal
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon kosher salt or scant 3/4 teaspoon table salt
2 tablespoons sugar
1 tablespoon baking powder
2 large eggs, beaten
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons whole milk
4 tablespoons bacon fat, unsalted butter, or corn oil (3 tablespoons for the batter, 1 tablespoon for the skillet)
Preheat oven to 425°F. Combine the cornmeal, flour, salt, sugar, and baking powder in a large mixing bowl and whisk to blend. Add the eggs and milk and mix well to form a smooth batter. Add 3 tablespoons of melted fat or oil to the batter and mix well. If using a cake pan, grease the bottom and sides with the remaining tablespoon of fat. If using a skillet, melt the fat in the skillet over medium heat; when the pan is hot, pour in the batter. Immediately place the skillet or cake pan in the oven and bake for about 20 minutes, until corn bread is golden brown on top. Remove the bread from the pan or skillet with a spatula and cool for a few minutes, then cut into wedges and serve warm. Makes 1 round loaf.
|
Rosemary, for Remembrance
|
|
Rosemary Remembrance Punch
Beer Bread with Rosemary
Rosemary and Garlic Stuffed Mushrooms
Lombardy Meat Loaf
Rosemary Carrots
Lentil Soup with Red Miso and Rosemary
|
| Rosemary and Her Babies |
| To have a steady supply of fresh rosemary, grow your own. Sometimes you can even root a branch of fresh rosemary from the grocery store, if it hasn’t been allowed to dry out. Rosemary is available from nurseries, where you will find it described as a half-hardy perennial evergreen shrub. Most rosemary is hardy to USDA Zone 6 at the coldest. If it gets colder than 25°F or thereabouts where you live, bring your rosemary plant indoors in the fall, or consider it an annual.
Rosemary’s Latin name, Rosmarinus, or "dew of the sea" (a description of its native habitat on cliffs above the Mediterranean Sea), provides a good clue to the conditions the plant prefers. Like most Mediterranean plants, it hates having its feet wet, yet likes mist and fog on its foliage. To duplicate this at home, plant rosemary in a clay pot, not plastic, and don’t let water sit in the saucer. Soil should be loose and not too rich. Fertilize infrequently and go easy on the nitrogen. Water thoroughly about once a week, when the dirt starts to feel dry, but mist the plant more often (daily is fine if you remember). Rosemary likes bright light and relatively cool temperatures.
My rosemary plant at home is about 10 years old. From May to late September, it lives outside in the garden, where I sink pot and all in the soil. When temperatures fall below 30°F at night, I move it indoors to a bedroom window, where it gets plenty of sun and good air circulation.
This rosemary has had several babies — new plants rooted from 6" cuttings of new growth, usually taken in the spring. Unless you are a fiend for rosemary’s taste, one plant is usually enough for one cook. I love brushing my hand across the plant to release its clean, piney smell, and lately I’ve been thinking of branching out, so to speak, with more varieties.
On the Web, two nurseries caught my eye. The first, in Earlysville, Virginia, is at www.sunnyboygarden.com, which has a beautiful variety called ‘Golden Rain’, featuring green variegated leaves edged with gold. On the other side of the country, in the state of Washington, www.nothyme.com has ‘Hill Hardy’ rosemary (rated hardy to 0°F, which seems unbelievable, but you never know), and several trailing varieties, a nice change from stiffly upright Rosmarinus officinalis.
|
"There’s rosemary, that’s for remembrance; pray, love, remember . . ." said Ophelia to Laertes in Shakespeare’s Hamlet. The Elizabethan audience would have nodded knowingly, for rosemary was widely believed to help restore lost memories and stimulate the mind. Scholars in ancient Greece tucked sprigs of fresh rosemary in their hair while they studied to help them remember their lessons. A staple of the medieval knot garden and the French potager (kitchen garden), rosemary was valued for its versatility. Rosemary tea was thought to reduce stress and headache; used as a hair rinse, it left the tresses clean and shiny. Oil of rosemary was (and is) blended with other essential oils (especially lavender, citronella, and thyme) and used in home remedies for coughs and asthma as well as in soaps and cosmetics.
The renewed popularity of herbal medicine has prompted scientists to research some of the ancient claims. Two antioxidants in rosemary — carnosol and carnosic acid — are believed to fight cancer. Rosemary extracts can prevent certain types of DNA damage, and compounds in the plant protect against the deterioration of brain function, including memory. Because rosemary stimulates circulation, it is useful in treating migraines and even hair loss. Is there anything new under the sun?
Cooking with Rosemary
From a culinary standpoint, rosemary’s distinctive flavor adds pizzazz to meats, vegetables, and breads. Rosemary can be something of a loner, in that it is hard to pair with other herbs. Rosemary goes well with garlic and onions, assertive in their own right, and with lavender, which contains some of the same volatile oils that gives rosemary its pine-camphor-citrus aroma and flavor. Rosemary can bring bland foods like beans and potatoes to life, and it is a traditional accompaniment to lamb, pork, and duck. A sprig of rosemary takes plain old cream of tomato soup to a new level. Focaccia topped with chopped rosemary and garlic and a drizzle of olive oil before baking makes your kitchen smell as good as the bread tastes. Last, but not least, Simon and Garfunkel’s favorite herb quartet — parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme — is a surefire combination for flavoring poultry stuffing, meat loaf, and other hearty favorites.
Dried or Fresh?
Dried is better than nothing, as long as it isn’t too old and desiccated (if the dust on the jar carbon-dates to the last millennium, that’s too old). Dried rosemary leaves are tough little spikes that can feel like fish bones in your mouth. Fortunately, you can find fresh rosemary in nearly every supermarket nowadays, and the sprigs keep well in a glass of water in a cool place. Just strip off the leaves and discard the woody stems (this is called garbling) before chopping the rosemary. If a recipe calls for a teaspoon of dried rosemary, use 2 teaspoons of fresh instead. Immerse whole sprigs in beef stew, a jug of vinegar, or a bottle of dry red wine for wonderful flavor.
|
Recipes from Ellis Island: Treasures from Our Immigrant Ancestors
|
|
The metaphor of our nation as a "melting pot" of people from around the world is appealing but inaccurate. If anything, as a nation we are more like a stew or a tossed salad than a smooth cheese fondue. It’s no accident that the language of cooking is used to describe our national experience, for food binds us and distinguishes us in important ways.
Ellis Island opened as an immigrant processing station in New York harbor in 1892. (First- and second-class passengers on steamships never set foot on the island: immigration inspectors believed that anyone who could afford an expensive ticket was unlikely to become a public charge, and they were sent on their way. Only steerage passengers were sent to Ellis Island.) Between 1892 and 1924, more than 22 million new Americans were inspected, interrogated, and (98 percent of the time) admitted to the United States. Having crossed the Atlantic in steerage class, they were exhausted, often impoverished, frightened — and at the same time eager to find a place in a land of promise.
Tom Bernardin, whose own grandparents were immigrants, has worked at Ellis Island as a tour guide. His book, The Ellis Island Immigrant Cookbook pulls together the personal stories and recipes of hundreds of Americans who brought signature recipes and ways of cooking from their native lands as a comforting connection to the past. In the process, they enriched American culture and spiced up the American palate. What is American cookery, after all, but a vibrant patchwork of recipes from around the world?
Here are a few stories and recipes straight from Ellis Island, adapted from the 1991 edition of Tom Bernardin’s book, which has since been reissued and is available from Amazon.com or at www.ellisisland.com.
|
Rotkraut (Sweet and Sour Red Cabbage)
|
"I came through Ellis Island on May 27, 1927, from Austria. I was a scared girl of seventeen years going to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to meet my relatives." — Christine Kindel, Greendale, Wisconsin
|
1 head red cabbage (2 pounds), shredded
2 tablespoons bacon drippings
1 small onion, chopped fine
1/2 cup wine vinegar
3 medium apples, peeled and cubed
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tablespoons cornstarch
1-1/2 cups water
Put shredded cabbage in colander, pour 2 quarts boiling water over it, and drain. In a large skillet, heat the bacon drippings, add the onion, and fry until transparent. Add cabbage. Add vinegar, apples, and brown sugar and simmer for 30 minutes. Mix cornstarch and water and add to the cabbage. Simmer for 5 minutes longer. Serves 4 to 6 people.
|
Panne Cotto, or Poor Man’s Lunch
|
"My dad came from Italy in 1906 and worked as a laborer. He had to save enough money for passage for my mother and brother, who was a small boy. After nearly three years, he finally had enough money. Christmas Eve, 1908, my mother and brother arrived at Ellis Island with no one to meet them. The next morning they were taken to Jersey City, with tags pinned to them, and put on a train for twelve hours. My dad met them at Hornell, New York, a small village upstate where they lived out their lives for over sixty years." — Norma Falce, The Bronx, New York
|
Take some stale bread, tear it up into small pieces, and place in a shallow bowl. Sauté 1 large onion in 1/4 cup olive oil. When onion is limp, add about a cup of water or more. When the water, onion, and oil come to a good boil, break 2 eggs and poach them in the juice. When the eggs are nicely cooked to your taste, pour everything in the pot over the stale bread. Add salt and pepper to taste. Serves 1 person. |
Meat Relish
|
"My mother’s father, Michele Borella, immigrated from Castellamonto, Piedmont, Italy, through Ellis Island in 1905. We pronounced this traditional northern Italian recipe ‘bonya cowda,’ which I have since learned is ‘bagna calda,’ meaning ‘warm bath.’" Mother would prepare a batch of this sauce in the morning before a holiday meal. It would simmer on the stove and be available whenever anyone wanted it. We would dip celery, green peppers, cabbage, or big chunks of Italian bread into the pot. Often three or four relatives would be crowded around the stove, dipping from the pot." — Nancy Zeller, Albany, New York
|
1 bunch parsley
1 pound fresh spinach
3 or 4 cloves garlic, to taste
hot pepper, to taste
1/2 cup olive oil
1/4 cup vinegar
2 ounces flat anchovy fillets
Grind all ingredients in food processor or chopper. Mix thoroughly. Simmer gently on top of stove in a heavy pot or flameproof casserole. Serve as a dip, as a spread for bread, or over pasta.
|
Aunt Sarah’s Unstuffed Stuffed Cabbage
|
"My Aunt Sarah came from Russia in the early 1900s. She passed through Ellis Island on her way to Brooklyn. Some years ago, we watched her cook this recipe and measured the ingredients as she went along." — Shirley E. Greenwald, New York, New York
|
1 head cabbage (2 pounds)
1 medium onion, diced
1 can tomatoes (28 ounces)
Wash, quarter, and shred the head of cabbage and arrange it in the bottom of a deep pot. Add onion and tomatoes. Top with meatballs made by mixing:
1 pound ground beef or turkey
1/2 teaspoon each salt and sugar
1 tablespoon ketchup
freshly ground pepper
Add enough tomato juice to cover the cabbage and meatballs. Then add:
juice of 1/2 lemon
1 teaspoon sugar
4 or 5 gingersnaps, crumbled
Cover and simmer for 1 to 2 hours, stirring gently from time to time. Best when cooked ahead and reheated. Serves 4 to 6.
|
Mustasole (Hard Cookies)
|
"Travelers would order suitcases full of these cookies to eat on board the ship, as the dining rooms were too expensive. They are very, very hard when dry and become chewy when damp — on an ocean voyage. They keep well and pack well, with no crumbs. I have one that’s fifty years old. We come from Cosenza, Italy. My grandfather came through Ellis Island with these cookies many times between the late 1890s and World War I. My father came in 1906, served in the U.S. Army in World War I, and became a citizen." — Josephine Orlando Saiia, Greenfield, Wisconsin
|
4-1/2 cups flour
1-1/2 cups melted honey, warm
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla or lemon extract
Place 3 cups of the flour in a bowl, add the warm honey, salt, and flavoring, and mix well. Add enough flour, up to a total of 4-1/2 cups, to make a very stiff dough. Knead dough on a board until smooth. Place in a bowl, cover, and let rest for at least 12 hours at room temperature. Divide into 4 pieces and knead each until smooth, adding a little flour as needed. Shape into cookies as you would children’s clay, making whatever shapes you prefer. Place on ungreased cookie sheets and bake at 325°F for 15 to 20 minutes, until golden brown. Remove from pan while hot and place on flat surface to harden.
|
Sour Cream Cake
|
"My mother, Ingrid Sandberg Carlson, came to the United States in 1910 at the age of nineteen. She came all alone and never made a return trip to Sweden. She went to Minneapolis, Minnesota, where she had two uncles. She worked as a maid until her marriage in 1916 and a move to a farm in Wisconsin. This simple cake was stirred up and baked on short notice when company ‘dropped in’ — no telephoning ahead in those days, but what enjoyable times those visits were!’ — Margaret Carlson, Amery, Wisconsin
|
2 eggs
sour cream (about 1/2 cup)
1-1/2 cups flour
1 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla
whipping cream
Break the eggs into a 1-cup measure. Fill to the top with sour cream. Beat well. Sift the dry ingredients and add to the egg mixture. Add vanilla. Pour into a greased and floured 8" square pan. Bake for 30 minutes at 325°F. Cool and cover with whipped cream. Serves 9.
|
Cardamom Cookies
|
"My grandfather, George Einar Wahlstrom, left Helsinki at age 21 and arrived at Ellis Island in 1904. He met and married my grandmother, Hilma Alina Heikkinen, also a Finn, and they raised five daughters. Finns are partial to cardamom. I still recall how my mother took the little seeds from their pods, wrapped them in a linen napkin, and pounded them with a hammer." — Jim Fobel, New York, New York
|
1 cup flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 large egg
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup (1 stick) butter, melted
Stir together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and cardamom. In a large bowl, whisk the egg until frothy and whisk in the sugar and butter. With a spoon, stir in the dry ingredients to make a batter. Place teaspoonfuls of batter on greased and flour cookie sheets, about 2" apart. Bake at 350°F for about 12 minutes, until lightly browned. With a spatula, transfer to a rack to cool. Makes 5 to 6 dozen.
|
|
Back to top of page
|
|
