Wednesday, May 16, 2012
by kale daikon
Last month, my veggie-loving friend in Rio, Celery Kabbage, brought me a sweet present of artichoke tea. I'd never had it before—neither had she—and we brewed a pot after dinner. As the artichoke leaves steeped, we imagined the gentle, pale green tones of artichoke distilled into pleasant tea form, perhaps a little on the weak side. I thought of the way that eating artichoke leaves a slightly sweet aftertaste to the water you drink with your meal. I took the improvised kettle off the stove-top and served us both. We blew delicately, then sipped...
... and nearly spit the evil witch's brew across the room. If Ms. Kabbage hadn't joined in the tasting, I might have thought she'd been trying to poison me. It reminded me of the bitter herbal infusion my dad's acupuncturist made him drink for his allergies or the taste of the betelnut I chewed to be social while sitting on the ground with old ladies in Vietnam. And yet somehow more foul than either, partly because I'd expected a more literally "artichokey" taste. [Please insert pun on arti-CHOKE here.]
Anyway, thistle is all to warn you: please to only drink the artichoke/alcachofra tea in case of interest in reputed medicinal qualities, such as stomach and liver relief and weight loss. I don't know how it's all supposed to work, but I can think of a whole bunch of smart alec responses about how this truly awful tasting tea can kill your appetite and make you forget your stomachache because of the bitter bitter flavor in your mouth that is disfiguring your facial expression. Or maybe I should focus on opening up my mind and all my vegetable chakras and try it again, only this time using 1 leaf per cup of boiling water...
Tuesday, May 15, 2012
by kale daikon
|Wild tamarack, basswood leaves, garlic mustard, fiddlehead ferns, |
and knotweed over Spanish mackerel. Source: NPR
While some of us gaze dreamily out at the rainy rainforest in Rio de Janeiro, others are busting their chops organizing book fairs and slapping together improvised gourmet dinners in the throbbing capital of, well, capital and haute cuisine: New York City. Congratulations to Elizabeth Thacker Jones for pulling off the first-ever New York Food Book Fair in high style at the Wythe Hotel in Brooklyn (and proving that grad students can actually meet deadlines and be "real people" too) and to WV friend Leafy Heirloom (aka Leif Hedendal) for whipping up what looks like a very tasty, very veggie-inspired meal to accompany the event—and for getting his leafy mug featured on the NY Times food blog.
The Garden Gather dinner was held in honor of John Cage, genius of music and mushrooms, and co-founder of the New York Mycological Society, but the wild mushrooms that were supposed to be the centerpiece of the meal suddenly got shy of all the attention, so Leif and his co-chef Mark Andrew Gravel improvised with a whole bunch of New England-foraged greens that they'd never heard of before. The NY Times blog and NPR both covered the event, making it sound like an unexpected Iron Chef competition starring weird vegetables. The featured weird vegetables included twelve pounds of dried heirloom red cowpeas that Gravel packed in his carry-on bag from South Carolina, ramps, basswood leaves, tamarack shoots, lily shoots, knotweed (eh?), ground ivy, toothwort root (what?), sweetflag (what??), and fiddlehead ferns (relatively normal in this esoteric company). The chefs used a combination of the Internet and their instincts about texture and flavor to make the knowns and the unknowns all work together. Another top-chef secret shared by Leif went beyond the forest and into the sea. He made up for the unexpected dearth of mushrooms "by getting a lot of seafood—that's my idea of improving something, is throwing a lot of seafood at it." Oysters, blue crab, and mackerel. Sounds fishy, but we trust his Leafy heart still blooms green.
|Toothwort root and knotweed, though I'm not going to pretend I know |
which is which, (I'm assuming that NPR's caption puts them in l-r order...)
The NYT write-up gives a fuller view of the context of the book fair and the meal, while NPR's piece focuses more on foraged greens and the potential incongruity of a swanky $150 per person meal being concocted from what might be considered as weeds: "In a different era or a less rarefied location, such a plate might suggest poverty — someone forced to scrounge for scraps (whey) and weeds (cattails) because they couldn't afford anything else."
This redefinition of obscure and foraged vegetables as a product of specialized knowledge (both in the gathering and preparation) that carries with it a certain aura of exclusivity and gourmet cachet is a tendency that has marked the culinary Zeitgeist of the past few years. Of course exclusivity and gourmet cachet are nothing new in the world of fine dining, but the attention dining-obsessed eaters are suddenly granting to the endless variety of vegetables that chefs are seducing them into accepting (with lots of butter, high quality olive oil, and creative combinations) has been an interesting and complicated phenomenon to witness—though always pleasing to experience when I'm lucky enough to taste one of these expertly prepared meals.
But it sounds as though this Brooklyn-based weird vegetable sermon was served to the choir, since one of the guests was already rapturing to the NYT about the greens he spotted on the way to the dinner: "It's really hard not to pick the lamb's quarters and the shepherd's brush that is growing within a block of here."
We at Weird Vegetables (the royal "we" of Kale Daikon and sometimes Eggplant Kohlrabi) look forward to a Bay Area incarnation of the Food Book Fair with much watering of the mouths and minds.