The Culinary Adventures of Deb Szajngarten

Home Cooking

Deb — 2010-02-16T11:53:00Z

Debs Home Cooking from Deborah Szajngarten on Vimeo.

This video is a culmination of the many meals I have cooked and blogged for you, my faithful friends. I am proud to say that in nearly five years, I have been successful in sourcing more than 90 percent of my ingredients organically, from within less than 100 miles of my home.

Do you know where your food comes from?

Last Minute Lobster

Deb — 2009-08-16T22:22:00Z

An old friend of mine recently moved to my neighborhood and I’ve been showing her some of my favorite spots. Yesterday, we visited several local farm stands. While standing in line, waiting to pay for my fresh corn and raspberries, I noticed that they offered a crate (yes, large cardboard box full) of tomatoes for $12.00.
“Oh, I’ll have to come back for those and make sauce,” I said to the woman behind table.
“I’ll split the box with you if you teach me how to make fresh sauce,” my friend offered.
With a wide grin, I picked up the crate and the two of us returned home to make tomato sauce. But, before we got back to my house, we stopped off at a few other farm stands, picking up the best each one had to offer, including green peppers, white peaches, okra and fragrant basil.
So, as I stirred my ever-so-slowly simmering tomato sauce this morning, I glanced over at the okra and green peppers sitting on my counter and thought … I think I will make Jambalaya. I pulled out some chicken stock, sausage, and ham steak from the freezer in the basement and took a ride to the supermarket in search of some fresh shellfish.

I am quite picky about my shellfish. In fact, I will only buy wild American shrimp and east coast diver scallops. The first store I went to only previously frozen fish. The second store I went to only had farm-raised shrimp and their wild deep sea scallops were $13.00 per pound (and they weren’t even divers). I watched my Cajun cuisine plans disappear in front of the seafood counter when the live lobsters caught my eye.

The tank teemed with live and feisty lobsters frolicking and fighting in their fishbowl for $6.99 per pound. The temptation taunted me. I circled the display three times before asking the store clerk to give me the liveliest bugger of the bunch.
The two of us, that is, the lobster and I, rushed home for lunch.

With the lobster in the sink, I snipped some fresh rosemary and sage from my garden and placed it in the bottom of a large stock pot. I also melted some butter in a small saucepan and kept it warm.

I added about a cup of water to the stock pot, covered it and set it to boil, at which point, I added the lobster.

Six minutes later, steamed lobster! (Yes, I was too much of a chicken to cut the rubber bands before steaming . . . as a kid I saw a lobster snap a stainless steel spoon in half and never trusted the crafty crustaceans again).

Forget the formalities, I broke out the claw crackers and dug in!

Simple, delicious decadence!!! Now, I am re-thinking my jambalaya idea. Perhaps I will make a pork gumbo for dinner instead.

Spinach Fettuccine with Wild Mushroom and Truffle Cream Sauce

Deb — 2009-08-08T13:13:00Z

While driving along (meandering really) a back country road somewhere in the heart of New York’s Hudson Valley last weekend, I came across a roadside stand. But, not just any farmstand, this one was really quite extraordinary, for, you see, they sold wild mushrooms!

Of course I could not go home empty handed! So, I ravaged the bright orange pile of perfect chanterelles and beautiful black trumpets. I added the organically grown brown and white beech mushrooms to my basket and prayed that I could find this place again as I paid their handsome fees.

In my zeal to amass these rare treasures, I did not make plans or preparations to cook them. In fact, my excitement turned to anxiety as I thought about my work schedule and all the other interferences of daily life that could take me away from my date with these diminutive delicacies. For four days, they sat in my refrigerator, shaming me . . . Until last night.

There is a wonderful little shop in Newberg, New York called Adams Fairacre Farms. Among the many other local and/or gourmet items they sell, their bakery makes fresh pasta, and sometimes (depending upon the baker) it is quite good. When I stopped there (also last weekend), I happened to pick up a package of fresh spinach fettuccine. So, as I stared into my fridge last night at my bountiful mushroom harvest, fresh pasta, half-used container of heavy-cream and a tiny container of truffle butter . . . my dinner choice seemed painfully obvious.

The prep: first I set about chopping… an onion, half a head of garlic, a Japanese eggplant, a small yellow squash a zucchini and all of the mushrooms. Then I minced about two tablespoons of fresh parsley and set a skillet onto a high-heat burner.

Once my pan got good and hot, I added high-heat safflower oil and watched it ribbon across the bottom of the pan, just near its smoking point. That is when I sautéed the onions and garlic (seasoned with salt and pepper). They cooked quickly on such high heat. Once the onions had both brown edges and a clear center, I added the mushrooms, a little at a time so as not to overcrowd the pan.

When the bright bouquet of mushrooms browned and softened, I tossed in the eggplant, squash and zucchini. I deglazed the bottom of the pan with heavy cream (on a much lower heat), seasoned again with salt and pepper, and finished the dish with black truffle butter and a touch of white truffle oil.

All the while, I set a huge pot of salted water to boil, but I did not add the pasta until the sauce finished cooking because I knew that fresh pasta would only take a few minutes to cook, and I did not want my pasta to sit in a strainer or become a mushy mass in the pot.

Finally, I tossed the pasta together with the sauce in a large bowl, and sat down to eat. Wow . . . a flavor explosion of many different mushrooms, combined with the ribbon-like texture of the fresh fettuccine . . . it was exquisite. I wished I had company over to share it. But, alas, I devoured my flavor symphony alone, with a glass of wine and an old movie (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Paul Newman and Liz Taylor).

Hot Oats on a Summer Morning

Deb — 2009-07-17T15:19:00Z

What a beautiful summer morning. I woke to the warm sunlight, soft breezes and the sweet sounds of song birds as they bustled about their day. Even though the air temperature was a comfortable 75 degrees at 7:00 AM, I could sense the hazy heat that would soon blanket my quiet country home. There is something mesmerizing about that heat. It’s like it sucks you into a semi-dream state that melts any stress or worries along with it.

My garden is teaming right now with brilliant bursts of red Monarda, yellow Day Lillies, and Purple Hostas.

My tomato plants are starting to sag against their stakes with round green fruit, and my strawberries are shifting from petite white flowers into pointy green berries.

Fridays are the day that I assess the remaining fresh produce left in my fridge or on my counter to see what I must use or toss before shopping again at the farm and farmer’s market over the weekend. In this week’s assessment, I found some bananas and raspberries that I had to use, or lose the next day.

So, I poured some salted water into a copper pot, brought it to a boil, and then added the oats. Once the mixture came to a simmer, I added the raspberries and some milk to the hot liquid and allowed the flavors to combine. Now, I were not trying to watch my weight, here is where I would add the butter, but since I am trying to watch what I eat ( I know, boo/hiss), I left it with non-fat milk and raspberries. When the oats finished cooking, I sliced up some bananas and swirled in some lingonberry jam. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the luscious lingonberry – it is a native to the Scandinavian countries. I like to buy a lingonberry jam that comes from Denmark called Scandinavian Delights. It is not sweet, like American jams, but tart and bursting with the flavor and essence of the fruit.

And now, as the dogs and I sit out on the back deck, and I complete my brief blogging reprieve, I shall return to work while I enjoy my breakfast. . . or is it more like Lunch at this point?

Flounder Pouches with Grilled Summer Vegetables

Deb — 2009-07-16T11:18:00Z

Writing a book sucks huge chunks of time out of the writer’s life. Add a full time job on top of that process, and it is easy to completely disappear for long periods of time. It seems like just yesterday, I was telling all of you about my lovely trip to the Met and now I “looked up” from my storyline and realized that more than a month has passed. In the blogging world, that might as well be an eternity!   (I hope you can all remember me )

Speaking of the book – I am please d to report that I have completed Thirty-Nine Chapters, which leaves me mid-way through Part Three of a Six-Part novel – about 40 percent. “Whew” (wipes brow).   Who knew it was going to take this much work!   There are times when I can see the story so vividly that I am compelled to sit and write it down as though I were reporting eye witness testimony. And, then, there are other times, when I have to really think about what and where I want the story to go. I have to put myself into the mind of each character in the scene – not just the protagonist – and then try (really hard) to check for historical accuracy. The research is perhaps the most fun, and the most tedious part of the process.

So, in all this time, you may wonder, what about the FOOD?!   Well, I am sad to report to you that my kitchen has only seen sporadic bouts of action these days. BUT – I have made some fun and interesting stuff in the process.

Flounder Pouches with Grilled Summer Vegetables
I wanted to create a dish that I would enjoy eating without stressing over calories (I confess, I am dieting too) – a balanced dish with complete protein.

The veggies: I sliced some zucchini and summer squash and cleaned and prepped some baby carrots that I picked up at the farm, then tossed them all in a marinade of EVO, aged balsamic, sea salt and black pepper. I covered the whole thing and let it sit in the fridge for a few hours.

The fish: I cut a flounder fillet in half and wrapped each half in leaves of swiss chard with sliced garlic, lemon juice, dill, EVO and black pepper (touch of salt). I placed the two flounder pouches into the steamer basket of my rice cooker, and filled the rice cooker with a mixture of basmati, whole grain, brown and red rice and set it to cook using a mixture of jasmine tea and water.

While the rice cooker did its thing, I strung diver scallops onto skewers with pieces of the marinated zucchini and drizzled some of the marinade over the skewers, allowing them to soak for about 20 minutes.

At this point, I fired up the gas-grill and placed the veggies and skewers onto the heated grates, flipping them after about six-ten minutes.

When all the components of the dish came together, I photographed the finished plate:

All in all, it turned out to be quite the satisfying and guilt-free dinner.

I have also discovered a new local favorite spot! It’s a BBQ Joint (and I do mean ‘joint’) located on Route 17N in Sloatsburg, NY called Hog Heaven.   The owner is a delightful man that combined his expertise in small business ownership and passion for football tailgating into a deliciously simple and sinfully satiating roadside BBQ spot. For less than $10, I can pick up (or eat there) a pulled pork sandwich with melted cheese and onions. For less than $20, I can entertain a friend with a ½ rack of melt-in-your-mouth ribs, homemade French fries (yum!), and/or a plethora of other wonderful from-scratch sides!   However, Hog Heaven deserves it’s own blog with photos and complete story … so Stay Tuned!

Le Pain Quotidien and a stroll through the Met

Deb — 2009-05-25T01:45:00Z

I spent this sunny Sunday afternoon strolling through the city. Partially motivated by book research and partially by nostalgia, I decided to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art. In no particular hurry, I took my time getting ready to leave. I gave the dogs ample time to romp around in the yard while I gazed at my blooming Rhododendrons and late-flowering dogwood. After three years in my yard, this is the first season the tree has given me blossoms, and they are a magnificent antique white with touches of pink at the tips of each petal.

Lingering in a long hot bath, I lay back and listened to another short story podcast from The New Yorker Magazine whilst the hot water enveloped my skin. The story, written by Andrea Lee called Brothers And Sisters Around the World opened my mind to a dynamic between two very different cultures that I might never have access to otherwise.

I cut up a ripe cantaloupe and shared it with Katherine, she sat patiently by my feet waiting for me to toss her a wedge. The two of us dined on sweet fruit as I quickly checked my email, and found an incredibly sweet note from a new friend.

After a short response, I left the dogs behind and drove effortlessly into Manhattan. Most New Yorkers are already out of the city on Memorial Day weekend, so I did not really expect any problems. I parked in a public garage beneath a residential building about three blocks away from The Met. It isn’t hard to do really, in that neighborhood almost all the buildings are either residential or they are consulates, with a handful of private schools, churches and synagogues thrown in for balance.

In New York, you know you are in a wealthy neighborhood when you walk down the street and find well-manicured and magnificent flowerbeds at the base of every tree, each encased in their own private wrought-iron fencing. People walk their dogs with plenty of poop-bags in hand and the local coffee shop charges $5.00 for a small iced coffee.

The architecture of the Upper East Side is really quite fantastic. Most of the brownstones that line Central Park are at least 100 years old, or more. Many have gothic elements or ornate baroque-style carvings that remind me of the decorative stonework on the buildings of Paris. Many of these brownstones have courtyards out back and only one or two families in residence— families with either a ridiculous amount of money (certainly out of my price range) or ones that have kept their property handed down for many generations, while maintaining enough of an income to support the upkeep.

As a teenager that came from a working-class family, I used to walk past these buildings with a mixture of envy and inadequacy – like an outsider peering through a fancy shop window and thinking about the last dollar they have in their pocket.

Today, I walked into a cute (but expensive) little French bakery/café and ordered an iced coffee along with a cranberry walnut stick. For those unfamiliar with such a delicious, decadent and decidedly French treat, they are a whole-grain, rustic-style breadstick studded with raisins, cranberries and walnuts. When smeared with a touch of freshly churned butter – it is a self-indulgent breakfast or a fantastic mid-day snack.

I omitted the butter and ate while I walked, slowly munching and sipping as I sauntered past the multitude of pedestrians walking their dogs, jogging, strolling through Central Park or just walking down the street. I continued past the hundreds of tourists from around the country and the world that either came or went from the museum. I lingered in front of the dozens of street peddlers selling cheap prints, reproductions of master works of art throughout antiquity. I smelled the numerous perfumes from the handful of active food carts that sold everything from empanadas to hot dogs to pretzels and roasted nuts.

Then I walked up the majestic staircase and entered the museum. I started with the Temple of Dondor, if, for no other reason than I have always found it really cool that the museum has a reproduction of an Egyptian pyramid inside the building! Immediately, a seven-foot resting female stone lion welcomed me into the exhibit. In her pink and black flecked granite, she opened a gateway for my imagination into the 2,500 year-old and partially lost Egyptian Empire.

Then, I wandered over to the Medieval armor, where I gawked at several hand-folded Katana that their master creators folded more than 1,000 times before creating a blade so perfect that I am unsure modern machinery could replicate it. I looked at the full plate armor of numerous dukes of King Henry VIII’s court and wondered what the men that wore these coats of arms thought about walking around in them! Of course I knew immediately when I came upon French Armor. . . You see, the French added all sorts of ornate patterns and fancy metal-work throughout their coats of arms, much they did to their buildings, their houses, their furniture. . . you get the picture.

As I walked through the great halls of this phenomenal museum, my thoughts drifted back into my teenage years. I would often spend a Sunday wandering through the museum. I really felt young, energized and idealistic back then. I romped through those halls as though they were my own personal playground, absorbing everything I could about the art in front of me. In those days, I only cared about the art –and why the cultures it came from created it. Now, I am fascinated by the whole of the culture as well. . . How did they live? What did they care about? Why did they want/need this art? And, most importantly, how did they do it? I want to absorb the society along with its artifacts and use them as a time machine into the past – to see a sliver of life in a totally different existence.

I couldn’t come to the Met without sneaking a peek at my favorite Tiffany stained glass windows, or strolling though the ancient Greek sculpture. But before I could continue my tour of the world civilizations thorough art – they announced the museum’s closing.

Now, this is a food blog, so I would be remiss in my duties if I did not tell you all about my supper at the cute little French bakery, where I bought my cranberry-nut stick earlier in the day— Le Pain Quotidien.

I walked in looking for a light supper before driving back home to Orange County. They have a bakery counter, but they also have table seating. Just to the left, when you walk in there is a long wooden table that reminded me of the French countryside. Designed to encourage community through communal dining, the long table had many chairs around it and half-loaves of stale bread-rounds in the middle that they used to hold menus. They put quality sea salt and fresh black pepper in grinders on the table, along with small bottles of aged balsamic vinegar, and their prices reflected it. Although, to be fair – the café’s prices were quite reasonable, considering its location on the Upper East Side.

I ordered an iced Matcha (powered green tea) with soymilk from the Vegan menu and an open-faced Chicken Curry sandwich from the regular one.

While I sat and sipped my iced Japanese tea, I listened to the snippets of conversations taking place around me. Behind me, a movie producer had a potential financier in his grips while he worked hard at his sales pitch for the in-production film. To the right, a group of well-preserved middle-aged women planned a fundraising banquet for some un-named charity. In front of me, a Hispanic guy in a yellow t-shirt and shorts sat quietly eating a bowl of soup. To my left, a young French man introduced his fiancée to his parents and younger sister. They all chattered away in perfect Parisian French. Occasionally, I picked up a few words – enough to decipher the meaning of their conversation while thumbing through a book of Glastonbury that I purchased in the Museum bookshop.

The friendly foreign waitress presented me a well manicured and colorful chicken curry sandwich. The yellow salad sat neatly on top of triangular wedges of thick brown bread. Slices of pink and white radishes, green and white cucumbers and bright orange melon decorated the plate with a tiny bowl of cranberry harissa to draw one’s eye to the upper left composition of the plate.

Before I left, I had to pick the Multigrain raisin nut loaf that called to me from the top shelf of the bakery. Studded with seeds and grains, it’s crusty shell and bouncy center sang my name.

“Would you like that sliced?” the young counter girl with low-hanging black pigtails and tan freckles asked me in a flat New York accent.

“Yes, please,” I responded.

I picked up my car from the cordial and quick parking attendant, and made my way home as effortlessly as I came. Tonight I dine on crusty bread as I write to you, my dear readers. It is a decadent dinner. Sometimes, I really revel in my city, soaking up all it has to offer. Today was one of those days, a day when I am proud to say that I love living in New York.

Shredded Pork and Broccoli Stir Fry

Deb — 2009-05-05T01:35:00Z

Do you ever wonder why Chinese restaurants name their obvious sauté of mixed vegetables and meat Pork and Broccoli? The Broccoli is only one of many veggies in there. Does it have superior health benefits that I don’t know about? Is it socially popular? Or is it just the only vegetables that the average American is not afraid to eat?

I love a good stir fry… but for me, it is mushrooms! I love it when they throw a mixture of different mushrooms into the mix (porcini, enochi, straw mushrooms – and not the canned ones either!). I always find that I eat a wider variety of greens in a stir fry too. Take bok choy for example. This is not a vegetable that I eat in any other form beside stir fry.

Now, there are some major downsides to eating take-out (because let’s face it, 90% of the time, we order our Chinese food to go) stir fry… they cook in crappy oil; they use tons of MSG, they coat the meat in corn starch before cooking it. Don’t forget how you are always hungry an hour later. .. the list goes on.

Now, this weekend, I started cleaning out my chest freezer to make room for the half a pig I ordered from my neighboring farmer, when I came across a package of “Boston Butt slice” and thought, “Why would anyone slice that beautiful roast!” But, in the interest of a clean freezer, I took it up and put it in the fridge to slowly defrost.

Saturday morning, I perused the Organic produce farm, reveling in all the spring greens, and… well… I got a little carried away. I bought ramps, fiddlehead ferns, spring leeks, green onions, fresh ginger… oh the wonderful greens! So, Monday night, after cooking all day Sunday, the desire to utilize the enormous pile of greens (and the desire not to eat egg salad for the third meal in a row) motivated my stir fry.

I julienned the leeks, the bokchoy and the ramps. I cleaned and prepped the mushrooms (enochi Yum!). I minced the ginger, sliced the garlic, cut up the broccoli (yes, of course I added broccoli), and tossed the fiddlehead ferns into the bowl with the rest of the veggies. Then I opened the package of pork. What I found was thin slices of marbled, soft pork on a bone that looked sort of like an anemic T-bone. I cut the meat away from the bones and sliced it into strips.

My dogs LOVED the raw pork bones. They were happier than, well, pigs….

Now, my laziness quotient kicked in… it is a Monday night after all, and I still have a few hours of work ahead of me, so I didn’t feel like digging out the cast iron wok from inside a storage chest in the other room. Instead, I grabbed a stainless steel sauté pan with straight sides and heated it up. I tossed some olive oil and minced (pulverized really) ginger into the bottom. Then I added the pork, keeping everything moving in the pan. When the pork cooked through, I removed it from the pan, which by now had a thick layer of crust on the bottom and added rice wine vinegar – a lot of rice wine vinegar – enough to properly steam my face with it as it reduced.

Next, I added soy sauce and kept scraping up the brown bits and dissolving them into my sauce. When the liquid reduced down to a thick paste, I poured the viscous liquid over my sautéed pork slices and added a bit more oil to the pan. (Now I would have remembered – this is where I’d have added some chilis, but I didn’t remember). I put the aromatic greens in first (onion, leek, ramp, garlic, etc) and sautéed them, keeping them moving in the pan. When they cooked down, I added the mushrooms and bok choy, then the broccoli and fiddleheads, until everything was tossing away in the pot. I splashed a touch more vinegar (as needed) to steam the sturdier veggies. Finally, I put the pork back in the pan and gave it all a final toss before taking it off the heat.

The end result… Voila! Stir Fry… all the yum and none of the junk food. I’m glad I have leftovers

Busy in the Kitchen

Deb — 2009-05-04T00:57:00Z

Spring weekends are busy, busy, and busy! I have reached a point in the process of writing my novel where I have temporarily stopped mechanically writing and immersed myself in more research, which (believe it or not) gives me a bit more time to cook , blog, and read

So, first thing this morning (while listening to podcasts on the rise of the Roman Empire), I set to cooking!

I made an egg salad. While the organic eggs boiled away in the pot, I made mayonnaise. I took two uncooked egg yolks, some fresh lemon juice, apple cider vinegar, some Dijon mustard, salt, pepper, and whisked it in the food processor. I slowly streamed in a mixture of grapeseed and flaxseed oils until it transformed into a creamy delicious spread. Then, I chopped some fresh spring chives and flat leaf parsley and mixed it into my mayo. After I peeled and cooled the eggs, I chopped them and folded them into the mayo mixture with a touch of paprika and more salt/pepper to taste. Voila! Egg Salad.

Then I set to shredding carrots for one of my favorite spring recipes, Carrot and Raisin Salad. I make it in the spring and eat it all summer long. This recipe also requires mayonnaise… only I omit the mustard for this batch, and add lemon zest instead.

Now, I needed some whole wheat bread to go with my egg salad… I opened the King Arthur Flour baking book and perused the bread recipes until I found one for 100 percent whole wheat bread. Followed the book… with a few exceptions, of course… instead of adding sunflower seeds and walnuts, I added flax seeds and honey, and instead of whole wheat flour, I used their white whole wheat flour.

Of course, I needed a soup for the week as well. I had a ham bone with a lot of meat on it from my last smoked ham waiting to make split pea soup . However, when I reached into the cabinet to pull out the split peas, I didn’t have any!!! So, I ran out ( still covered in flour) to my favorite farm/gourmet store to buy them… only by the time I got there, shopped and left, I forgot the Split peas!! Oh well *sigh*

After I returned home feeling a bit foolish, I peeked in the pantry to see what I could find… a ½ package of red lentils, a ¼ package of cannelloni beans, a ½ cup of couscous and some Orzo. I thought… well…. Why not make a variation of Pasta Fajole… and that is what I did. I added leeks, onions, carrots, celery, garlic, fresh parsley, spinach, cherry tomatoes, homemade chicken stock… a little bit of everything including the hambone. A few hours later, I had a big pot of soup.

So, as I sit here, sharing my cooking experiences with you, I am enjoying an egg salad sandwich on whole wheat bread with a side of carrot and raisin salad, and a bowl of pasta fajole soup. Now, to watch The Curiosity Shop on PBS. G’night folks

Excitement

Deb — 2009-05-01T13:54:00Z

Spring brings me joy! I love all the pink and white trees, how the earth transforms from brown to light green and bright yellow. It also brings back variety in the fresh and local foods we have available. (Don’t get me wrong, I love the slightly hay-like flavor of winter dairy and an unlimited supply of potatoes, apples, onions and garlic… but after a while…)

Well, the cattle and pig farmer that lives two towns away from me and raises free-range, organic animals has informed me that the pigs are going up to the butcher this week. Now, I usually buy pork from him once every couple of years… mostly because it is a lot and it takes me two years to use it. But, I always know the quality and living conditions of the animal, thus the quality of the meat is always superb.

Spring also brings the striped bass up the Hudson River to spawn. One of my colleagues is a serious deep-sea fisherman in his off-time (when he is not working as a web engineer). He and his friends fish the bass run every year. He offered to bring me back a striper (between 10 and 20 lbs). You cannot imagine my excitement! All I can think of is soaking maple wood planks and cooking the striped bass fillets on the charcoal grill with lemon, rosemary, homemade butter, and some black pepper.

What’s more, next month, the farmer will be sending up beef… so a quarter of the cow patiently awaits…

Abandonment

Deb — 2009-04-28T18:36:00Z

Dear Readers,

I am sure that many of you felt my blog posts have languished in recent months. I have posted fewer and fewer blogs, each one promising greater frequency. All the while, the threat of internet antiquity is looming over my virtual quiet country life.

Well my friends… please allow me to explain. In mid-December, I decided to write a book. It is an epic fiction novel spanning 1,600 years. Confident in my plot, I dove into character and story development and have been there ever since.

You see, what I did not realize when I decided to embark upon this fun and foolish task is that writing a novel is an extraordinary amount of work. It spills over into all aspects of the writer’s life. In my case, I think about it in every free moment. I come home from work and begin to write, or edit, or re-read… torturing my friends and family in the process.

I am convinced that my cousin Michele is a saint, in addition to her excellent skills as an editor, and enduring patience as a friend. My friend Ronnie also deserves tremendous kudos for listening to me drone on about an imaginary world and made up characters for months on end. Oh, and I cannot fail to mention my dear friend Rich, who has exactly zero interest in the fantasy genre, yet he patiently listens and guides me as a writer.

Needless to say, my friends, my poor blog has suffered. Please, dear readers, do not give up hope. I will keep posting, perhaps with less frequency, but I have not abandoned you! I hope that in time, I can tell you more about the progress of the novel, but for now, I beg your patience.

Love,

Deb

Let Them Eat Cake! Chocolate Decadence and Delicate Rose

Deb — 2009-04-12T20:32:00Z

When I asked my cousin Michele what kind of cake she wanted for her birthday, she said “oh, I don’t know, either something with canoli cream in it, or that rose cake that you make.” So, in the weeks leading up to the big event, I spent a lot of time thinking about cake.

As part of my gift to her, we hosted about 15 people at my house yesterday to celebrate Michele’s birthday. We declared it a Pot-Luck party, with my primary responsibility focused on dessert. With so many people attending, I decided to make a variety of desserts.

I served long-stemmed strawberries with homemade whipped cream (sorry, they were gone before I could take the picture). I made mini lemon and lime tarts topped with fresh raspberries and blackberries.

For her first birthday cake, I created a rose pound cake that I split and filled with Nutella. I iced the cake with homemade whipped cream.

My Pièce de résistance began as a Devil’s food cake that I doused in Amaretto liquor. I made canola cream and added chopped semi-sweet chocolate to it. I filled the cake with the canola cream and iced it with a chocolate ganache (very messy process, if I do say so!)

I topped both cakes with edible wildflowers and served them to a very happy birthday girl.

Brioche

Deb — 2009-04-04T14:09:00Z

    Lately, I have thought a lot about bread. The local grocer/garden center that I shop in (the place that sells lots of locally grown and organic dairy, produce, and meats) also has a bakery. Their prices are on par with other bakeries and their quality is very good. While I shopped last week, I reached over to pick up a loaf of cranberry-pecan wholegrain bread. I looked at the price on the label. Imagine my shock at the $7.95 price tag.

    “What?” I could not believe it! “Has the price of ingredients increased this much? I can bake my own damned bread for $8.00 a loaf!”

    Needless to say, I did not buy the cranberry-pecan wholegrain bread. Now, the truth is, I have not always had a symbiotic relationship with baker’s yeast. When it came to yeast-based baking, I always felt like I did not intrinsically understand how the magic worked. When I cook, I feel connected to my ingredients and my process – that is not to say I always create everything perfectly, but I know why something doesn’t work if it fails. With yeast, well, I just never got it.

    This weekend, I resolved to change my relationship with baker’s yeast. I decided to embrace the tiny microbes with respect and love. First, I read three of my baking books’ “bread sections” completely, from chapter-to-chapter (including the recipes) and searched for the commonalities in the methods and explanations of the process.

    Then, I read the two bread-specific baking books for a deeper-dive into the yeast-development process. Finally, I chose a recipe and decided to dive in.

    J’adore Brioche! This rich, decadent, and delicious bread borders on cake. (Once I made it, I understood why). It is most similar to a Challah bread, but richer, with less sweetness and no fruit. I took a recipe from the King Arthur Baking Book and set out to build my Brioche. (While I have many baking books, I think theirs is the absolute best for breads).

   First, I began by blooming my yeast in warm water. The yeast emits a lovely fragrance when it mixes with the water. The tiny bubbles remind me of the first bits of pale green grass that sprout up in the spring singing “Yay! We are here!”
   I put the bloomed yeast in my mixer with 4 large eggs and 1 1/3 cup of sifted flour. After combining the ingredients, the recipe called for it to relax as-is for 45 min. King Arthur Flour called it an Autolyse. They informed me that even though it didn’t look like much, this process gave the yeast a chance to kickstart.

   After my dough took a 45-minute nap, I added the remaining flour, sugar, salt, etc. and set it to mix for about 10 min. While it mixed next to me, I took out the stick of butter that the recipe called for and began beating with a rolling pin on top of my floured counter. Each time it flattened out, I folded it into a triangle and started again, until it became pliable, but still cold.

   My recipe told me to add the butter to the dough, so I put it into the mixer. I panicked after a few moments when my dough – once a lovely, shiny ball – looked like cake batter clinging to the sides of the bowl.

   The mixer churned as I watched it, fighting back the lump in my stomach that comes right before I get upset.   But after 10 minutes in the mixer, the cake-batter texture changed into a sticky ball of dough (very sticky).

   “Whew!” I guess I needed just a little bit more faith on that one *wink.*

   Now, I was ready to let my dough have its first real rest. It remained in the mixing bowl for about an hour, covered with tinfoil. When I returned to it, I found that it grew about 1/3 its original size. As the recipe called, I removed it from the mixing bowl, shaped it into a ball and set it in an oiled bowl to rise for the next 5-16 hours.

    At about 6:00pm, I wanted to play with dough again. My beautiful Brioche rose substantially in the fridge (as the recipe instructed). It had a deep yellow color and strands of gluten made up a soft, but resilient texture.

   I gently deflated my dough and re-shaped it into a ball, this time in my star-shaped Brioche pan. I left it on the counter to rise – next to the oven – and went off to catch up on some of my favorite episodic television on demand and edit my book with my cousin Michele.
   Saddened by the fact that I now have to wait another year for more United States of Tara, I returned to the bread.
   It must have liked the spot I gave it near the oven because it rose to three times its original size! I slashed the tops and baked it in a 400-degree oven, 40 minutes later: Voilà Brioche!

    First, I must say that this bread is totally worth the effort it took to bake!!! I removed it from the pan, to let it cool. Michele and I didn’t wait very long to slice into the hot bread and begin devouring it. It really does not need much on it at all. It has such rich, delicious flavor and moist texture. Yet, Michele and I couldn’t help but add an apricot and almond spread to it. What started out as a taste, turned into a loaf. Between the two of us (and of course, my very over-indulged dog) we nearly finished the entire thing.
I sent Michele home with some of the last remaining pieces and saved myself a slice for the morning.

    I had a few minor corrections in my process for next time: 1) Let the dough stay in the fridge overnight (not that anything was wrong with it, but I think it will have even greater flavor if it can enjoy a long, slow rise); 2) When the recipe calls for a 375-oven, remember to correct for convection!!!! (Hence, why mine ended up set at 400). While my bread came out delicious, I had a slightly doughy bit in the center that could have cooked longer, but my crust was already finished when I took it out of the oven. That problem could have been completely avoided by a slightly lower oven temp; 3) shape the bread more specifically to the pan. Because I shaped it as an oval, it rose high in the middle and not as much on the sides of the star.

   While I note these corrections, I am quite proud of myself for knowing what the problems were and how to best fix them. In the past, I would not have known why my breads didn’t work… which only frustrated me. I am doubly pleased that my bread turned out quite well, and I know how to improve it next time!

   Stay tuned for more breads to come

Green Egg and Ham

Deb — 2009-03-16T00:32:00Z

All of my life, I have used a propane grill for my outdoor cooking (sans camping… but that is a different blog). My Weber has served me well. However, I longed for the high heat and smoky flavors of a charcoal grill. I found that I had better results searing a steak in a cast iron pan on my stove than I did on my Weber grill, so after many years and much debating, I finally broke down and bought the charcoal grill.

I didn’t just buy any old grill, however. I bought the grand pooba of grills, The Big Green Egg. Based on an ancient Chinese/Japanese oven called a Kamado, the grill is a large, egg-shaped thick ceramic oven with a multi-damper system for controlling heat to near exact temperatures from 200-degrees to 750 degrees. On the bottom, it has an adjustable window for airflow and for cleaning out ashes. The top has two lids, a ceramic lid that puts the fire out, and a metal cap with two discs, one that opens the chimney completely for high heat and one that controls airflow through a series of holes, to release very little air and smoke, or cook (or smoke) on low heat for a long time. The egg retains its heat better than cast iron too!

Well, the egg arrived late Friday afternoon. Of course, I had to break it in! I defrosted a large spiral ham (already smoked). Normally, I bake and glaze the ham in the oven at 250 for about 4 hours. Friday night, I fired up the egg and smoked the ham, with a maple, cinnamon, clove, nutmeg, chili powder and fresh-squeezed orange juice glaze.

My entire neighborhood smelled sweet, like smoked ham!

It took me a long time to get it started, but once it got going, the egg maintained an even temp at 250 degrees for the next four hours. My cousin came by for dinner, and I felt badly because we didn’t take the ham out of the smoker until about midnight. It was worth it though! WOW. Amazing! I’m sorry I didn’t take pictures. It was late. We were hungry and I was preoccupied with my new toy.

Saturday morning. I woke up and thought about that ham bone sitting in my fridge. I cut up some carrots, celery, onions and garlic, sweat them briefly, added homemade stock (1/2 chicken & ½ duck), and about 2 cups of green split peas, submerged the ham bone and made split pea soup. (Sorry, forgot the pics again).

Well, my cousin came back over for dinner on Saturday as well. I prepped some pizza dough on Friday, and had it rising in an oiled bowl for Saturday evening’s dinner. By late afternoon, I read a lot more of the manual for my new Green Egg. I bought the indirect heat attachment for it too. Basically, it is a large ceramic stone that looks like a plate. It sits in-between the grill grates and the fire, essentially turning the grill into a brick-oven.

As you may have guessed… I set my pizza stone on the grates and planned to cook pizza in my new charcoal-fired brick oven (YAY!).

Well, this time, I took precautions. Because Friday night, it took a very long time for the grill to light and come up to temperature, Saturday, I prepared an alternate dinner (just in case).

While the gill heated, I made a bowl of fresh ravioli, with homemade sauce (which I made for my pizza anyway), I added some fresh ricotta cheese and topped the whole dish with parmesan. (I FINALLY REMEMBERED THE CAMERA)

I also stretched my dough (using my fists) into a round shape. When it formed a large round and relatively flat circle, I took my fresh (hand-grated) mozzarella cheese and sprinkled it on the dough evenly. Then, I spread my sauce on top of the cheese, and added a touch more cheese on top of the sauce. I drizzled a little olive oil onto my pizza and into the oven it went.

Before….

By the time I got outside with the pizza, the grill was really kickin’ at 500 degrees. I eased my pizza onto the stone and trimmed the parchment paper around it (I want the fire to stay inside the egg). Michele enjoyed our pasta while the pizza cooked. About a half an hour later, we took out the best pizza I have ever made at home in my life! The bottom crust had a perfect crunch, the dough had beautiful air holes, yet remained thin, the sauce and cheese, both yummy.

After…

And the best part was, the leftover slices that I had for lunch this afternoon ROCKED.

I DO, I DO LIKE GREEN EGGS… AND HAM… AND PIZZA… and soon, I will begin experimenting with bread… Oh, the possibilities!!!

Pork and Red Cabbage

Deb — 2009-03-09T18:40:00Z

This weekend felt like spring! The thermometer hit the mid-fifties. I did not even need a jacket to run around outside. After such a long, cold winter, running around outside is all I wanted to do! This is also the weekend that The Watchmen hit the box office. My book club read The Watchmen last month, in advance of the movie, and a few of us got together yesterday to go see it (It was awesome, BTW, and mostly true to the story).

Before we caught the Sunday night showing, everyone met at my house for dinner. I started by thinly slicing a small red cabbage and two red onions. Michele helped me shred a few Jonas Gold apples, and soak raisins in warm water. I sautéed the mixture in olive oil, and after about five minutes, I deglazed with apple cider vinegar. Then I added about a cup of white wine and transferred the whole thing to a casserole to cook in a slow (250 degrees) oven for the rest of the afternoon.

Next Michele and I went out to pick up some pork… after a visit to the Italian deli, we came home with sweet sausage links and pork rolls, which are pork loin with spinach, breadcrumbs, garlic and mozzarella cheese rolled inside. We also came home with biscotti and St. Joseph’s pastries. (A St. Joseph’s pastry is a special pastry stuffed with custard made from lemoncello, and/or canolli cream. In the U.S., you can only find them between Lent and Easter.)

I stopped in the beer store and picked up a six-pack of Newcastle and we came back to my house to finish cooking.

First I seared, then poached the sausage in the beer with garlic slices, bay leaves and whole peppercorns. Then I removed the sausage from the pan and sliced it into rings. I strained the poaching liquid, reserving the sauce and the garlic. I then took the sliced sausage and returned it to the pan to sear, ultimately adding the strained liquid back to deglaze into a thick sauce.

Next I took the pork rolls, seared them in a hot pan on either side, and brought them to 150-degrees in the oven.

Ronnie came by shortly after everything finished cooking. We had pork roll, braised cabbage, and seared sausage for dinner.

What do your Pets Eat?

Deb — 2009-03-09T18:29:00Z

What do your pets eat? Do you shop for pet food based on price? How nutritious is it? Do you really know? Well, one of my dogs got sick a few months ago, she lost nearly 15 lbs. I took her to the vet, and after a series of tests, he determined that she has a genetic liver disorder called Copper Storage Disease. The dog lacks the enzyme to properly digest and process metals – specifically copper. So the copper builds up and poisons her liver.

The vet had me buy special pet food without metals at $80 for a 20lb bag. Now… if you are anything like me, two disturbing facts have already jumped out at you from in the previous sentence; 1) what the hell are metals doing in dog food in the first place; and 2) $80 for a 20lb bag – is he nuts?!?!?

After about three weeks of the expensive – non-organic – metal free dog food, I started doing some research. It turns out that even the most expensive organic dog foods have added metals… zinc, cooper, magnesium, etc. as vitamin supplements. It is nearly impossible to find healthy pet food without added minerals.

However, paying $80 per bag for something that is essentially freeze-dried dog cereal is not okay with me either. I spoke with the vet, did more research and began cooking specially for the dogs. I buy organic, local, ground meats (beef, pork, turkey, chicken), and steam them in a rice cooker with vegetables and rice. The dogs LOVE it! It is far healthier than anything they were eating from a bag, and -- this is my favorite part – it is a fraction of the cost of dog food. I am also adding liver-healing and immune-boosting herbs to the steamer (dandelion leaves, kelp, nettles).

Within four days, I saw marked improvement in here weight, coat and overall health. So, now they eat hardboiled eggs and multigrain bread for breakfast, cheese for lunch and the steamed rice mixture for dinner (which is a healthier diet than most humans have).

Pizza

Deb — 2009-03-04T03:15:00Z

Weeknight dining at my house is usually a wedge of cheese and some olives. However, I have been trying to make more conscientious food choices on a day-to-day basis, which includes bringing my lunch to work. Now, for years, I cooked on Sunday and brought the leftovers with me all week. Only, that gets boring by day three.

So, these days I have added a midweek dinner to my cooking schedule. Last week, I roasted a chicken. Then I made chicken soup from the bones and white meat.

Tonight, I made pizza. I prepped the herbed pizza dough yesterday, while snowed in. I let it rise, punched it down and re-formed a ball, then stuck it in the fridge again.

Tonight, I shaped/tossed the dough and layered it with slices of fresh mozzarella cheese, homemade sauce, and the last of the fresh ricotta I bought.

I baked it on a pizza stone in a 475 degree oven for about 25 minutes, until the sauce bubbled, then I took it out, sliced and served.

The best part is I have two slices for lunch tomorrow (tomorrow’s dinner is the last two rolls of the eggplant rollatini I made Sunday, I have only to bake it).

Angelo's Revisited

Deb — 2009-03-02T16:03:00Z

Have you ever had a meal that lingered in your mind? A meal that left you thinking about it at unexpected times? Well my dinner at Angelos last week wormed its way into my brain. I could only think about the next visit.

So, I indulged my craving and called to made reservations for Friday night.

Friday turned out to be a rainy, miserable day. I left work shortly after 5:00pm and inched my way home through 20-mile an hour traffic. My cousin Michele and her friend Christian were waiting for me when I pulled into my driveway.

We (well, I, really) Scrambled to get in and out of the house so that we could make our 7:30pm reservation. We pulled up to the restaurant to find every parking spot in the lot already taken. We entered to find that they already had quite a crowd. The cozy, quiet atmosphere of last Sunday was replaced with a lively, bustling chatter that filled the space.

Nicole seated us in the small dining room (this is relative, as both rooms are small – one room seats six tables the other about eight). Now, Angelos is a bring-your-own-bottle kind of place. I looked around, saw all the other patrons with their own wine, and regretted not grabbing something from my cellar before leaving the house. We settled for Ice teas and sodas as we indulged in the delicious, warm semolina bread, olives and tapenade of sundried tomatoes and pepperoncini.

We each enjoyed a simple mesculin salad with a delicious vinegarette.

We decided to share two appetizers among us, the eggplant rollatini

And the Burata special. Now the burata is a fresh, handmade mozzarella cheese that is stretched around fresh ricotta cheese and served with procuitto, fresh basil, balsamic and tomatoes…. OUTSTANDING!

For dinner, Christian ordered the Shrimp scampi

Michele ordered the penne a la vodka

And I ordered the special, a homemade tateagelli with shreds of pulled pork in a brown gravy.

Once again, I took home most of my dinner, but this time, I planned. I made room for dessert. We devoured the homemade zeppolis topped with nutella and served on canolli cream.

Another yummy evening!

Eggplant Rollatini

Deb — 2009-03-02T03:26:00Z

Shopping for food in the winter is tough. Most of the local farms close in the winter, so buying local can be challenging. However, I frequent a local grocery/farmstand/gourmet shop in Newburgh, NY called Adams Fairacre Farms.

Well, Adams happens to carry a lot of wonderful cheeses from local producers. One of their suppliers makes handmade ricotta, mozzarella, basket cheese, ricotta salata and several other variations of fresh cow’s milk cheeses. Their ricotta is excellent. It is so creamy, sweet and fresh. I love it!

So, I got to thinking about eggplant rollatini. I wanted some. So, I bought the cheese, the eggplant and a can of San Marziano sauce and planned to make a quickie- version of Eggplant Rollatini.

I began with the sauce. You, my dear readers, know much about my fresh sauce process. However, I finished the last of my jarred sauce a few weeks ago, so I had to resort to using high-quality canned San Marziano DOP tomatoes. I sautéed some onions, garlic and oregano in olive oil with salt and pepper. I deglazed with white wine, added the tomatoes and cooked on a low heat for about an hour.

Meanwhile, I took the fried eggplant and rolled the fresh ricotta cheese into it. I poured some of the homemade sauce over that, then sliced some fresh mozzarella and topped the whole thing with Mozz. Into the oven it went on 325 for about 30 minutes. I finished it with a 3-4 minute stint under the broiler and voilla! Eggplant Rollatini.

Michele, my cousin, joined me for dinner. We both thoroughly enjoyed it!

Angelos

Deb — 2009-02-23T01:25:00Z

Several years ago, my car service driver told me about a “secret” Italian restaurant in Harriman, while en route to the airport.

“A secret? How strange,” I thought, but Al talked of handmade pasta, homemade sauce… real, old-world Italian food.

After my trip, this mysterious restaurant haunted me. I drove all through Harriman looking for it; and after some searching; I found it. Only, it was closed. The tiny restaurant lived in an old brownstone on what was once the center of a now defunct town, across from a corner store. Someone hand-painted the name Angelos on the window that I peered through. I could see a handful of tables… maybe six.

Well, the restaurant did not have a phone book listing, and each time I drove past it, it was closed. For years now, I have tried to dine at the elusive Angelos, to no avail.

Yesterday, my brother and I drove past it and found the door open. It seemed that they have expanded to include the building next door to their original location, offering 12 tables, instead of six. We walked into the empty restaurant and called out.

“Hello? Is anyone here?”

No one answered. We walked out and tried the second door. It was locked. Determined, we re-entered the first door.

“Hello?” we called.

This time, someone answered.

“What time do you open?” I asked.

“4:30, madam,” the man answered in a thickaccent. “But you need a reservation.”

“Can I make a reservation with you?” I asked, hopefully.

“Yes, I will give your information to the owner, and he will call you to confirm.”

We brokered a reservation for 5:00pm on Sunday (today).

My brother returned to Brooklyn that night. I asked my friend Ronnie if he wanted to try out the secret restaurant with me. Intrigued, he agreed.

Ronnie and I met in town, near a local bar. He followed me up the less-traveled road into the old village of Harriman. Well, we entered the small restaurant with pretty glass lamps and a bar alongside the kitchen wall. A sweet young woman that we took to be the owner’s daughter, Nicole, greeted us and invited us to sit wherever we liked.

I watched another patron, sitting across from us sitting alone. He drank wine with his dinner that looked like a bottle he brought with him and thought, “Wow, I should have brought a bottle of wine for us too.”

The menu reminded me of the Italian restaurants that I grew up with in Brooklyn… Baked clams, mussels in red sauce, seafood fra Diablo, chicken cacciatore, chicken parmesan… the list went on. I can’t quite explain the subtle differences between a real, local Italian restaurant that caters to Italians and the millions of homogenized “Italian” restaurants around this country, but when you find the real thing, you can immediately tell the difference.

First, they brought us toasted semolina bread and a tray with olive oil, olives and red pepper tapenade.

Next, Nicole told us the soup and fish specials; which were a white bean soup with slivers of sopprasata and a tilapia poached in lobster broth.

I had to try the soup… I envisioned the cannelloni bean soup with escarole and miniscule pork meatballs. However, I received something totally different and delicious. The thick soup consisted of large white beans with slivers of spicy sausage. If I were to guess…. I think they made the broth by pureeing half the beans and garlic together with chicken stock, and returning the other half of the beans to the thickened broth. They brought me a huge bowl.

Meanwhile, Ronnie tried the eggplant Rollatini appetizer. They brought him a thin strip of fried eggplant rolled around a mound of fresh ricotta cheese, topped with deep red tomato sauce and melted mozzarella cheese. It reminded me of Sunday supper at my friend Rosemary’s grandmother’s house as a child.

After seeing the huge soup portion, I knew that I should bring most of it home because the rest of our meal would be equally as large. Ronnie and I chatted with the handsome, young server. I noticed his accent and asked him where he was from.

He told us that he came from Latvia, but speaks four languages, Latvian, Ukrainian, English and Russian... as well as a bit of German. I was very impressed, considering I struggle with French.

Ronnie ordered the chicken cacciatore, which reminded him of his grandmother’s cooking.

I ordered the gnocchi bolognaise. The homemade potato gnocchi were plump and light, while the sauce had the right mix of ground pork, tomato and oregano. They topped the dish with some of the fresh ricotta, which really made the meal.

After taking my photos of our entrees, Ronnie asked me, “Does anyone ever ask you why you take pictures of your food?”

“Not really, most people don’t ask, they just let me be,” I shrugged.

Not two minutes later, the young server came out and joked “All our food is served with copyright protection.”
Ronnie and I laughed.
Nicole came over and asked. “Why do you take pictures of your food?”

I, of course, explained my devotion to you, my dear blog readers.

Ronnie and I both brought half our entrees home. The portions were enormous. The food, delicious.

I wanted to try their zeppolis with cannoli cream, but I literally could not eat another bite.

The secret restaurant turned out to be a success! The people were friendly and fun, the food was fantastic, and the price, right. I will not wait years to visit Angelo’s again! I am already planning my next reservation.

Mia: Caribbean Food

Deb — 2009-02-22T16:56:00Z

What a strange and difficult winter! December sent ice storms that downed trees and destroyed property. January dumped snow, every week more snow dropped from the sky onto my driveway, lawn, commute, life. February brought unemployment for so many of my friends. Every time I log onto Facebook, some new has changed their status to “Now Unemployed” or “Freelancing.”

Last week, I went to see a play in Manhattan. As I walked through Times Square, I noticed… I could walk down the street. Less than half the usual tourists crowded the sidewalks. I saw disturbing things that I have not witnessed in Times Square since the 1990s. Pimps hawked on the corners. Pickpockets worked in organized teams. I had to strap my purse diagonally across my chest and keep a tight grip on it… something I have not thought about, so much as done, in more than 10 years.

The world is changing rapidly and uncertainty is everywhere.

Needless to say, I have hunkered down this winter. I have focused most of my Sunday cooking on simple, hearty soups, like ham hock and mixed bean, or mushroom and barley. One weekend I made a roast beef with mashed potatoes and steamed green beans, then ate the leftovers as sandwiches for a week.

I have not eaten out much either. I find now, when I go out to eat, that I am looking for simple, home cooked meals. I loathe giving my money to chain restaurants. If I need to dine on a budget, I would rather spend my cash on a cafeteria with a real cook then a chain that reheats everything in a microwave.

Yesterday, my brother came up to visit. He likes and often uses my mechanic. Even though it is far from him, the long drive up is worth the peace of mind associated with an honest mechanic.

We stopped for lunch after dropping his car off.

We found a small Spanish restaurant called Mia on Route 17M between Harriman and Monroe. The sign in the window said “Caribbean Food.” They had a counter with a few tables. We each ordered a chicken dish.

My brother ordered the lemon chicken and I ordered the garlic chicken. Both of us took seasoned rice and black beans as our side dishes, along with a shared order of Maduras.

The maduras were amazing! The sweet plantains had crisp skins and soft texture, and they weren’t greasy!!!!

They prepared the beans Cuban style, with just enough garlic and spice. The rice had olives and black beans in it, and when combined with the homemade garlic sauce from the chicken, I did not need to ask for Mojo.

We both ate everything on our plates (not something I do often). The owner came out and talked to us for a while. His wife, Mia, cooked our food. We lingered in conversation and felt like a part of the community. This little restaurant gave us tremendous warmth, hospitality and delicious food. My entire bill came to less than $25.00. I left feeling good, sated and connected to my community.