In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.
When my mother, who had been raised on kosher half-sour pickles, first tried bread-and-butters, she was immediately overwhelmed. For someone who was used to the tart flavor of Northeastern dills and half-sours, the Southern sweetness of the bread-and-butters were an absolute delight.
Through a combination of compliments and guile, she managed to get hold of our friend Millie's recipe. From that year on, we had a huge picklefest every summer, when we'd spend two or three days putting up bread-and-butter pickles.
While these are extremely sweet pickles, I have kept the recipe almost exactly the way my mom made it. This is partly due to the necessities of pickling, and partially due to a sense of tradition. Mostly, though, it's due to the fact that I regularly swap these pickles out for gherkins or sweet pickle relish.
Get the recipe for bread-and-butter pickles after the jump.
As summer kicks into high gear, roadside stands and greenmarkets are bustling with fresh produce.
Fresh herbs, cut just that morning, perfume the air: sultry thyme, sprightly parsley and rosemary for remembrance. Sweet onions tumble out of bushel baskets and into burlap bags. Piles of peppers fight for your attention in red, green, orange, yellow and even black. And who can resist fresh ears of satiny corn?
As you lug all of your fresh produce home, don't worry -- as always, we've got your back. Beyond the jump is an original recipe to use that corn, those peppers and those onions to make a quick, fresh corn relish.
This relish has a Southwestern twang, but it can accompany virtually anything coming off of your grill for Fourth of July barbecues, from juicy burgers and seared steaks to perfectly smoked chicken. And if the summer corn is too irresistible to resist buying a bushel, you can double the recipe and send some home with your guests.
With Independence Day just around the corner, we turn our attention to all-American wines for the all-American holiday. I combed through the Slashfood archives to find wines from all around our grand ol' country worthy of an American toast. Here are seven perennial favorites:
Hydrox is one of the ingredients. Photo: Chazz Layne/flickr
In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.
When I was a kid, Creme de Menthe was a pretty big deal. A local restaurant used to make parfaits that were loaded with the stuff, and the mix of vanilla ice cream and super-sweet mint liqueur soon entered my pantheon of top childhood delights.
When it came time to update my Aunt Evie's recipe for Grasshopper Cake, I played with the idea of kicking it up a notch, but higher level mint liqueurs and Godiva chocolate liqueur seemed excessive, like putting truffles on a hamburger. In the end, half of the joy of this boozy, sweet concoction lies in the humble nature of its ingredients.
While my family traditionally made this dish in a pie plate, I opted to go for a springform pan. The crust, which I deliberately left uneven, rose and fell to reveal the bright green filling, and the crumbled cookies on top offered a coarse yet tantalizing finish. Needless to say, this one disappeared pretty quickly!
Get the recipe for Grasshopper Cake after the jump.
Over the past five years, the local food movement has helped spur the production of local artisanal cheeses in non-traditional dairy states, such as Nebraska, Illinois and Georgia. Although Vermont, California and Wisconsin remain cheesemaking hubs, other states are beginning to lead the way with farmstead cheeses like Little Bloom on the Prairie from Illinois, Georgia's Green Hill and Nebraska's Lancaster Duet.
Leslie Cooperband from Prairie Fruits Farm in Illinois and Charuth Loth from Farmstead First in Nebraska are both diversifying their farms and selling cheeses directly to customers at local markets.
"The perception of consumers is changing," Loth says. "People are starved for a connection with the farm." Loth and her fellow co-owner Krista Dittman laughed, saying that they feel they're engaging in "rural counseling" -- helping to reestablish a lost connection between food and the earth.
Call it the Summer of the Street Vendor: Food trucks and carts are, it seems, this season's version of artisanal pickles or pastured meats. Whether you live in Los Angeles, Portland or New York, each day seems to spawn a new vendor -- and they're not selling your granddad's dirty-water dogs.
Words like "organic," "natural" and "handmade" are being slapped on everything from burritos to burgers, giving street meat an almost saintly aura and the occupation of street vendor a previously unheard of cachet. Street cart fever has spawned all sorts of coverage, from city-specific blogs to nationwide podcasts like VendrTV.
As with other low-profile aspects of the food industry that have suddenly found themselves ready for their close-ups, the sudden glamour of the street vendor trade obscures the everyday challenges -- some small, some overwhelming -- that come with selling food (no matter how pedigreed) from a big metal box on wheels.
Interviews with two vendors and a call to Slashfoodies to help us find great American street vendors after the jump.
As promised, we're beginning our recap of the Big Apple Barbecue Block Party this past weekend, featuring 15 of the best pitmasters from around the USA. After you take a dip in the barbecue sauce fountain, courtesy of Mike Mills and Amy Mills of 17th Street Bar & Grill, click on the post to see our photos. "Peace, Love & Barbecue," everyone!
In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.
When I was a kid, pea season was a mixed blessing. On the bright side, it meant that we would get fresh sweet peas on the table. Whether from our family garden or from a local farmers' market, the just-harvested peas were invariably sweet, crunchy and delicious. On the other hand, our regular servings of fresh peas translated into hours spent on the porch shelling the bright green pods. Even under the best circumstances, it was dull, tedious work.
My mother's pea salad recipe, which combines the sweetness of peas with the light flavor of dill, tended to overshadow the peas with a heavy helping of sour cream, mayonnaise and scallions. My modified version, included below, lets the flavor of the peas shine through, but retains the original's cool summer flavors.
Get the recipe for dilled pea salad after the jump.
You've seen that sliced-up green apple sitting up top aside the Slashfood logo. Perhaps you've pondered its culinary potential -- the crisp snap of that bright green skin, the half-sweet/half-tart flavor that is the special domain of the Granny Smith apple.
Voila. Slashfood sorbet!
In sorbet, a single element is distilled into an intense burst of flavor. It should be so vivid that only a bite is necessary. Perhaps you're most familiar with it as an intermezzo to cleanse the palate, in a fluted paper cone to hold while walking alongside your companion and his gelato or in scoops piled high in a frosty parfait glass almost too cold to touch.
After the jump, an original recipe for a gorgeous green apple Slashfood Sorbet. We challenge you to only eat one bite.
In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.
Over the last few years, Korean barbecue has gained fresh relevance in the United States. Whether served on hot dog buns in Manhattan, tortillas in Los Angeles or rice in Korean restaurants around the country, the sweet, oniony flavors of bulgoki, japchae and galbi are incredibly delicious and increasingly popular.
When I was a kid, bulgoki (also spelled bulgogi, pulgoki, pulgogi and any number of other ways) was a staple in my house. My parents, who lived in Korea before I was born, loved the stuff and would cook it on an electric griddle at our dinner table. As my sisters and I got older, we got involved in the fun; some of my first cooking experiences involved flipping bulgoki with a pair of bamboo tongs.
I've played with amounts and ingredients, but my mother's basic bulgoki recipe is fantastic. In fact, my only major change is in the dipping sauce: while my parents used light soy sauce with a sprinkle of pepper, I prefer a more traditional garlic/vinegar sauce, which I've included below. Get the recipe for bulgoki after the jump.
Like ramps and asparagus, morels are synonymous with spring, and an edible reminder of the season's brevity. It feels less like morels have a season than a quick, annual engagement: catching them at the farmers market is like catching a solar eclipse, or Tom Jones at the MGM Grand in Vegas.
Morels are wild mushrooms that grow in forested areas throughout many parts of the country, and generally begin appearing sometime in April. They're usually available until the early summer, but their season can vary by a week or two depending on the region and the amount of rainfall. They're slender, knobby things with intricately ridged and wrinkled skin, and look like they sprouted from the pages of the Brothers Grimm. Their homely appearance belies their heavenly flavor, which is expressed to spectacular effect in the company of dairy, fat and and asparagus. Scrambled eggs are thus an ideal way to enjoy morels -- think of it as less an egg dish than a vehicle for delivering the best of the season to your very happy stomach.
Read the recipe for scrambled eggs with morels, asparagus and spring onions after the jump.
Gouda fans and those who love sweet, butterscotch-like flavors in their savory snacks may well go wild for Lancaster Duet, a cow and goat's milk cheese from Farmstead First in Lancaster, Neb.
A bite of this beautiful caramel-colored cheese initiates a complicated succession of flavors that begins with notes of dried dates and apricots, evolves into honey and candy and finally tapers off with a mild, sweet and milky tang. Its texture mimics its broad range of flavors: dense, with a sturdy exterior, it yields at a bite to reveal an incredibly creamy center.
In layman's terms, this is a handcrafted gastronomic masterpiece cave-aged to perfection. The complex cheese comes courtesy of Farmstead First, a collaboration between Krista Dittman (right) of Branched Oak Farm, 15 miles north of Lincoln, and Charuth Loth (left) of nearby Shadow Brook Farm. The name "duet" refers to the collaboration itself and the use of two different milks in the cheese. (Incidentally, this means Lancaster Duet is not officially a "farmstead" fromage, which must use milk from only one farm).
Learn more and find out where to find the cheese after the jump.
In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.
When I have access to fresh produce, cucumber season becomes one of my favorite times of the year. Although it runs from May to August, the wonderful green beauties won't reach their full flourish until later in the summer. Still, it's hard to resist the cool, summery flavor of the first cukes of the season. With that in mind, I decided to flip through my family cookbook in search of some great cucumber recipes.
My Aunt Renie's cucumber salad manages to halve the distance between sharp and smooth, sweet and sour, creamy and intense. In my adjusted version, I cut back on the onions, switched in Greek yogurt and tossed in some fresh dill.
The final version had the soothing coolness of a traditional cucumber salad, but also retained a nice vinegar tang that keeps me on my toes. This is great by itself, or as an accompaniment to barbecue or any other strongly seasoned dish.
An unmistakable perfume is in the air: the intoxicating vapors of resiny cedar, sweet applewood, sexy mesquite and reliable ol' hick'ry, arising from grills and escaping from smokers on every block and in every park. Brats are sizzling, hot dogs plumping, chicken breasts marinating, hamburgers being seasoned. And he-men and she-women can barely wait to tuck into perfectly seared T-bones, dry-aged Porterhouses, smoky brisket, even refined filets mignons.
In steakhouses, spinach, typically creamed, is a traditional accompaniment for steak. This is because steak demands to be in the company of strong flavors, and spinach -- among the most assertive of greens in both texture and taste -- delivers. So, as grilling season commences, Slashfood reminds you to eat your spinach. Beyond the jump is an original recipe for a spinach salad that's nothing like the oily, eggy cafeteria staple; gilded with lemon and oregano and with a smoky bacon crunch that resonates with food from the grill. C'mon, give it a try -- it'll please both your mother and Popeye!
In this weekly series, home cook Bruce Watson works his way through a decades-old family cookbook, adapting the best recipes exclusively for Slashfood.
Beets are funny: while they are among the hardiest of winter root vegetables, their gorgeous color brings to mind the energy and exuberance of early summer.
In our family cookbook, my Aunt Evie tipped her hat to this weird dual nature with her recipe for pickled beet dip. Filled with the earthy flavors of winter vegetables, the dip's brilliant pink color suggests the joy of Easter eggs, cotton candy and sunsets. Pairing the coarseness of winter with the energy of summer, it's the perfect spring food!
While most dips tend toward blandness, this one has a nice kick. It goes well with crackers, but really shines as the centerpiece on a tray of crudite. Although the ingredients may sound odd, they blend nicely and the finished product is one of those rare beet dishes that even avowed enemies of the dark red vegetables will love. One warning, though: be sure to let everyone know that it's beet dip. Given the color, some people will assume that it is a cherry or raspberry dish!
We can change the way we make eggs -- scrambled, poached, fried -- but what about changing the eggs themselves? Mix up your scrambling routine with quail eggs.