I Wonder If Emmylou Likes Cobb Salad??

A long time ago, when I was in my early thirties, I bought a Lilith Fair CD and heard a duet with Sarah McLachan and Emmylou Harris. I was blown away by her voice. Now that I am decidedly in my forties, I still listen to Emmylou and was excited to see her at Chatauqua this summer. However, dinner before Big Top concerts always present a challenge for me— we have to be in the car on our way to the hill by 7:30ish. This is a problem for me, my meals like to hit the table about 8:30 or so. Salads are about the only thing I have a half a chance to get on the table before we have to leave.

The other Maven, Arthur Schwartz, has the original Cobb salad dressing recipe from the Brown Derby, along with the history of this illustrious salad, on his website. According to Arthur, Bob Cobb, the owner of the Brown Derby, was hungry late one night after service and went through his walk-in refrigerator looking for something to eat. The funny thing about a restaurant kitchen is there is very little to grab and eat late at night and the last thing anyone wants to do is turn on the oven or start a fire in the grill after everything is cleaned up. Another funny thing is that if you are in the kitchen looking for something to eat late at night, you are definitely not thinking about lettuce. I bet this is why the Cobb salad bears very little resemblance to a healthy and virtuous salad. Bob had been working all night and he wanted something that would stick to his bones. Adding bacon, cheese, avocado, hard-boiled eggs and potatoes to a pile of greens makes perfect sense to me.

I made two changes to Arthur's recipe— I substituted arugula for the watercress and chicory and I tossed the potatoes, while they were still warm, with olive oil, Maldon sea salt and chopped preserved lemons. Otherwise, I stuck to the recipe and it was perfect. I bet Emmylou would like my Cobb salad.

Emmylou was great—she has a magnificent soulful voice and is an amazing guitarist. I kept watching her hands, flying up and down her guitar, and thinking about all the life they have seen and the music they have made. Seems like a fairly innocent observation, right? Well, we had the opportunity to meet her after the show and I blurted out, 'I love your hands'. She looked at me like I was either nuts or had a hand fetish. I continued shoving my foot down my throat and mumbled something about her hands having beautiful life in them and that was that. She graciously agreed to take a picture with me and I decided to have a few rational and witty talking points next time I meet a musical legend.

Paella, Paella

It was an epic cooking class a few weeks ago— lots of women, lots of sparkling wine and lots of paella. Sue came all the way from Frederic with an outdoor paella cooker and an enormous pan with red handles. It was an impressive set-up, to say the least. I have made paella once and am a complete novice. Sue, on the other hand, is a pro and she showed us the ropes and made a beautiful pan of paella.

There was a lot of prep— slicing, chopping and dicing. We had plenty of hands and the work went quickly. There is a particular rice for paella, Bomba— it absorbs lots of liquid while remaining firm and doesn't turn to mush. I had a couple of bags left over from my initial, and not terribly successful, attempt at paella last winter and Sue put it to good use. We did a seafood paella with a little of chorizo from the Northern Smokehaus for good measure— absoloutely delicious.

I met Sue two or three years ago when her son and future daughter in law had their groom's dinner at Good Thyme. At the time, I never would have guessed she would someday be cooking paella in my front yard. It never ceases to amaze me how the dots in our lives eventually get connected.

While I would like to say I made a seafood stock from scratch, I would be lying like a rug. I did a little research and decided upon this seafood stock. It was perfect— briny and clean tasting.  In the chaos of the evening, I didn't write down the recipe Sue used but it was a basic paella recipe— mussels, clams, shrimp, assorted veggies, seafood stock and saffron.  If I had to guess, I would say it is pretty close to this recipe.

Rice, of any kind, has always presented a challenge for me— it is either too mushy or under done and hard as nails. I like paella because the caramelized and crusty rice on the bottom is not only cool but desirable. It even has a name, socarrat. Finally, my utter lack of rice making skills would not be a hindrance in the final product.

It was another joyful evening spent in the kitchen with friends.  The house reverberated with their voices and laughter for hours after they left. I like to think we are knitting the fabric of our community one meal at a time and I am grateful for each and every moment I get to share with these amazing women.

Garlic From The Market & Flowers From The Garden

In between washing the sheets, getting ready to cater two weddings, making a feeble attempt at cleaning the kitchen and mentally preparing myself to tend bar on a Saturday night— I had a little fun. Sadie and I went to the farmers market in Bayfield and there it was— heaps and piles of garlic. To say I have a thing for fresh garlic would be putting it mildly. I love, love, love fresh garlic and celebrate my love every chance I can when it is season. I practiced a little restraint yesterday and only bought a dozen or so cloves. Next weekend, I am going big— vampires beware.

My friend Jill, a self-professed Garlic Pig, loves garlic as well. She's a gardener extraordinaire and has a garden full of garlicky goodness. Scapes and cloves— the benefits of growing your own are endless. It was her birthday yesterday and I went to the garden to pick my first bouquet of the summer for her gift. I knew she didn't need garlic but flowers and wine seemed like a decent idea. I cut extra flowers and made a bouquet for myself to keep in the kitchen. As I walked in the house last night at 11 pm, tired and thankful to be home, there it was— flower love from my garden. I went to bed happy.

A Totem Pole Raising (or Re-Raising)

There was a minor set back when Ted was cutting down an old birch in the front yard. The totem pole was in the wrong place at the wrong time and the birch took it out. It spent a few months reclining in the yard, waiting for the day it would stand tall again. Being a lumberjack is hard work (at least that's Ted's story and he is sticking to it).

Ted called the man who put the pole up five years ago, I can't imagine how that phone call went. I doubt he has to re-raise many 20 foot totem poles. We bought it from Bill Vienneaux, a wood-carver in Washburn, and it's the only 20 foot totem pole he has made (so far). There were two spots open on the pole when we bought it and he carved the flying pig and the bear reading the book for us.

I remember the day it went up (the first time) in the summer of 2007. I had just finished putting in the flower garden, Guinness was at my side and Meghan was in Ted's arms. Time has flown by. We bought it as an homage to Ted's Dad. Frank passed away two weeks after we bought our house and he is buried in the Bayfield cemetery. We wanted to do something to honor the man we adored and missed terribly; I know he would have been pleased.

Frank and I had a lot in common: reading, love of food, the New Yorker and pigs. Maybe it was the Irish in us, pigs are considered good luck charms in Ireland. When Anne and Frank moved to Alabama, they asked what I would like from the cabin. I knew right away— the white pig, Horatio, that sat outside their door. It was fitting we put a pig with wings (and a smile on his face) on the totem pole.

I raised a glass to Frank after the totem pole was securely back in place. He saw the woman I was going to become before I even knew she existed. He gave me Anne Morrow Lindbergh's book, A Gift From The Sea, for Christmas when I was nineteen and just starting to find my way. I miss his unflagging love and loyalty, he was a helluva guy. The 2006 Coudoulet de Beascastel was the perfect wine to drink that afternoon— bittersweet cocoa, dried figs and black cherry. I was happy to see the totem pole upright but I was missing the man who inspired it.

Summer Strawberry, Chicken & Avocado Salad

Strawberry season in Bayfield is over but it was fun while it lasted. We ate strawberries all day long— smoothies, shortcakes, layered between angel food cake, on waffles and in salads. It was utter strawberry madness at the Dougherty's for two weeks in June. Bayfield is the perfect place to live if you like berries— strawberries, raspberries and blueberries are plentiful and my kids gobble them up with abandon.

Salads are a good idea when it is 150 degrees outside and you live in a 100-year-old home without air conditioning. Ted rounded up a couple window units a few weeks ago and now my dinner repertoire includes judicious use of the oven. However, when the house was a sauna, we ate a lot of salads and grilled outside.

Don't you love it when you go to the grocery store and find perfectly ripe avocados? This salad was the fortuitous result of ripe avocados from Andy's, a surplus of strawberries in the fridge and my new favorite spice, Tajin. My friend, Kathy, turned me onto Tajin (a lime and chile salt from Mexico) this spring. She used it in her jalapeño margarita (also known as the Kaboom Margarita at Good Thyme) and I was smitten at first taste. In homage to Kathy's margaritas, I marinated the chicken in tequila, lime and Tajin— it was a seriously good idea.

 Summer Salad with Strawberries, Chicken and Avocado

Marinade

1/2 cup freshly squeezed lime juice

1/4 cup tequila

1/4 cup olive oil

4 garlic cloves, minced

4 tbsp Tajin Classico Seasoning

Salad

8 chicken thighs, skin on and bone in

2 avocados, sliced

2 cups strawberries, sliced

1/2 red onion, sliced

1/2 cup feta (can substitute quesco fresco), crumbled

6 cups romaine, chopped

Cilantro Lime Salad Dressing

2 garlic cloves, minced

1 cup cilantro, chopped

2 tsp Tajin Classico Seasoning

1/4 orange juice

1/2 cup lime juice, freshly squeezed

3/4 cup olive oil

Salt and pepper to taste

Preparation

Mix together all ingredients in the marinade, place in a non reactive bowl, add chicken and marinate, refrigerated, for 4 - 6 hours. Prepare the grill and remove the chicken breasts from the marinade. Grill the thighs skin-side down for about 5 minutes, until nicely browned. Turn the chicken and cook for another 10 minutes, until just cooked through. Remove from the grill to a plate. Cover tightly and allow to rest while you prepare the salad.

Place all salad dressing ingredients, except olive oil, in a food processor or blender and combine. Slowly add olive oil until the dressing is emulsified. Taste and add salt and pepper, if necessary.

After the chicken has rested, remove the meat from the bones and set aside. Place romaine, strawberries, avocado, chicken and feta in a large bowl, add salad dressing, toss to combine and serve.  

Tuesday's Dinner

A few weeks ago, I was in Hayward at the grocery store and saw a sign for snow crab clusters for 5.99 a pound. Crab is always a good place to start when you are wandering aimlessly through a grocery store looking for dinner ideas. I grabbed red potatoes, corn on the cob and headed back to Bayfield. I am still plowing through my preserved lemons and decided roasted potatoes with fresh herbs, Maldon sea salt and finely chopped preserved lemons would be a brilliant companion to crab legs on the grill.

I have a trick to make frozen crab legs taste a little less frozen— let them sit in cold water for 30 minutes or so (change the water 3 or 4 times). It allows the stale water that is in the shell to leave and fresh water to replace it (and provide the steam when you are cooking it). I lit the grill and cooked them for about 12 - 15 minutes over indirect heat. The grill was about 300 - 350 degrees, the crab legs were already cooked and I didn't want them to dry out. Clarified butter, lemon and a couple of crab crackers made for a satisfying dinner after spending the afternoon in the car.

Morning On The Beach

I woke up at 6:44 today. George sleeps on a chair in our bedroom and the minute I open my eyes, he is at my side and ready to start the day. Needless to say, we were all up at 6:45, how can I say no to a yellow lab with such an eager face? I found the leashes, George found his tennis ball and we headed to the beach. Gus took off after a butterfly, Seamus found a feather, George was in the water and Henry stayed at my side— a glorious way to spend Thursday morning.

This raven has become a touchstone for me— he reminds me to surrender, be grateful and remain open to unseen but deeply felt forces.

One of the gifts of an early morning walk on the beach is the artifacts left over from the previous day— sandcastles, stick structures and footprints in the sand.

To Be Of Use

I have an old wooden bowl I bought in Alabama a few years ago. It is beautiful and it sat on a shelf, looking beautiful. One night, a friend of mine suggested we put salad in it for dinner. I thought about it for a minute— what would happen if I filled it with salad greens and put it on the table? The bowl was put to use and looked right at home on the table, much more beautiful than sitting, empty, on the shelf.

Why was I reluctant to use the bowl? It was made years ago for the sole purpose of holding items and somewhere along the line, it moved from wooden bowl to antique. I was scared I would ruin it if I put salad greens in it, it was 'too special'. Ironically, the bowl looks better because of its use— the salad oil has moisturized the wood and it has a beautiful patina. Patina comes from use and that is truly beautiful.

To Be of Use 

The people I love the best
jump into work head first
without dallying in the shallows
and swim off with sure strokes almost out of sight.
They seem to become natives of that element,
the black sleek heads of seals
bouncing like half-submerged balls.

I love people who harness themselves, an ox to a heavy cart,
who pull like water buffalo, with massive patience,
who strain in the mud and the muck to move things forward,
who do what has to be done, again and again.

I want to be with people who submerge
in the task, who go into the fields to harvest
and work in a row and pass the bags along,
who are not parlor generals and field deserters
but move in a common rhythm
when the food must come in or the fire be put out.

The work of the world is common as mud.
Botched, it smears the hands, crumbles to dust.
But the thing worth doing well done
has a shape that satisfies, clean and evident.
Greek amphoras for wine or oil,
Hopi vases that held corn, are put in museums
but you know they were made to be used.
The pitcher cries for water to carry
and a person for work that is real.

Marge Piercy

Crawfish Cakes For Sunday Brunch

I love Sunday brunch. I like to 'get a slow run at the day' (one of my Dad's favorite sayings) on Sunday and eating a meal at 9 am is taking things a little too quickly for my taste. I was in the throes of hollandaise withdrawal and knew that whatever I ate on Sunday needed to include that lovely sauce. I grabbed some frozen crawfish from the restaurant on Saturday night and went to bed with visions of hollandaise and crawfish cakes dancing in my head.

I have tried (unsuccessfully) to make crab cakes in the past and I entered the kitchen on Sunday morning with some trepidation.  A recipe on epicurious.com for Baltimore crab cakes looked promising— the cakes sit in the fridge to set and you coat them in breadcrumbs before frying. In the past, the cakes always fell apart in the frying pan and I hoped this technique would be the ticket to a perfect Sunday brunch. It worked like a charm—  they held together beautifully and were perfectly golden brown and crunchy.

Crawfish Cakes

1/4 cup mayonnaise

2 scallions, thinly sliced

2 large eggs, lightly beaten

1 1/2 tablespoon Dijon mustard

2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice plus wedges for garnish

1 1/2 teaspoons blackening seasoning (I use House Bayou Blackening Spice)

1 tbsp chili garlic sauce

1 pound lump crawfish meat, picked over

3 cups bread crumbs, divided

1 tbsp thinly sliced chives

1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

4 tbsp vegetable oil

Preparation

Whisk first 7 ingredients in a medium bowl. Add crawfish; fold to blend. Stir in 1 1/2 cup breadcrumbs, chives, salt, and pepper. Divide into 6 equal portions. Form each into 1"-thick patties. Refrigerate for at least 10 minutes (I froze them for 20 minutes).

Heat oil in a large skillet over medium heat. Place remaining breadcrumbs on a plate. Coat cakes with breadcrumbs. Fry until golden brown and crisp, 3-4 minutes per side. Serve with lemon wedges.

My Garden In June

We put in a flower garden when we bought our house in 2007 and I had no idea what I was doing, planting or weeding. I was new to the gardening game and had a steep learning curve. I planted all sorts of things and hoped for the best. Not everything survived my Darwinian approach to gardening but what survived is thriving and gives me immeasurable joy.

May Sarton said, 'Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace.' I get on my knees in the dirt, tend to my flowers and pull weeds while the dogs wait nearby. There is something so satisfying about pulling grass out of the garden and getting every inch of root out with it.

It's starting— the flowers are beginning to wake up and the garden is taking shape. Looking outside my window makes me smile.

The sound of visiting bees gives me joy; I like to think they love the garden as much as I do.

Pink and orange— one of my absolute favorite color combinations.

Guinness, our Newfie, was my faithful gardening companion. He would sit outside the garden and wait for me to finish my chores. Thankfully, Seamus picked up the torch after Guinness passed and now all the dogs hang out with me while I weed.