I have a little problem. I'm addicted to cookbooks, food writing, recipe collecting, and cooking. I have a lot of recipes waiting for me to try them, and ideas from articles, tv, and restaurants often lead to new dishes. I started losing track of what I've done. So now I'm taking photos and writing about what I've prepared—unless it's terrible in which case I forget it ever happened.
For a thorough look at food history in the South from the mid-twentieth century on, I highly recommend The Potlikker Papers: A Food History of the Modern South by John T. Edge of which I received a review copy. All angles are covered from the atrocities of segregation and the civil rights movement as they related to restaurant dining to home cooking including how the food being prepared and access to it have changed over time. There’s a moving passage about Edna Lewis and how her family had “embraced agriculture.” “They found joy among the furrows and reveled in the pleasures of the table… In a rapidly urbanizing America, her knowledge of native plants and heritage breed animals, learned on the family farm, set her apart.” Alice Waters regarded Lewis as “an advocate of organic foods and seasonal diets.” Lewis, in fact, spoke of the same principles on which the Slow Food movement would later be founded. The book offers insights into the careers of several famous Southern chefs, food writers, restaurant founders, and producers and also delves into issues of industrial farming and the need for progress for laborers. And, it clearly depicts how a changing population “proved essential in the making of the newest New South, in which expertise in tortilla making mattered as much as biscuit baking, and Indian chefs set the standard for fried okra.” Sadly, that doesn’t mean all problems have been solved, but it is exciting to see the food landscape shift and new dishes become iconic. Edge writes: “Food serves the region as a unifying symbol of the creolized culture we have forged, making explicit connections between the breads made from corn that Native Americans call pone and the breads made from corn that Mexican Americans call tortillas, bonding Louisiana Cajuns of French descent who boil crawfish in water spiked with Tabasco mash and Vietnamese Texans on the Gulf Coast who boil crawfish in pots that bob with lemongrass.” It’s fascinating to experience the varied ways food products of the South can be interpreted. Here in Austin, I look to our local farms for inspiration based on what’s growing from month to month. A few weeks ago as the height of tomato season was coming to an end, I wanted to make use of the less popular part of the plants. The Tomato Leaf-Egg Pasta from The Book of Greens was on my mind, and I had to give it a try.
Springdale Farm was kind enough to harvest a bag full of tomato leaves for me to purchase, and a local restaurant had been purchasing them as well. It’s great to know the plants were being put to such good use. To make the pasta dough, the tomato leaves were blanched, drained, and squeezed in a towel to remove moisture. Next, the leaves were placed in the blender with eggs and pureed. I prefer to make pasta by hand, so I transferred the tomato leaf and egg mixture to a big bowl with some flour. I used a mix of whole wheat and all-purpose flour. The flour and tomato leaf mixture were stirred together and kneaded on a floured surface until smooth. The dough was covered with plastic wrap and allowed to rest for about an hour before being divided and rolled through a pasta machine. I cut the strands into linguine and cooked them briefly in salted boiling water. For a quick sauce, I followed the suggestion in the book and melted butter in which fresh tomatoes were briefly warmed. Pasta was topped with the sauce, strands of basil, and some parmigiano reggiano. I loved the herby flavor in the rich egg pasta, and the speckled green color was pretty with the fresh tomatoes. I'll definitely make this again when I can get some leaves from tomato plants.
A lot of progress has been made in the South, and I hope it continues. Undeniably, there are still issues to be addressed and problems to be solved, and only time will tell what changes will come next. But, seeing the mix of cultures and its positive affect on what we eat is a positive sign. I’ll keep eating all the new and different dishes that appear and cooking with all the great ingredients grown in this little pocket of the South that I call home.
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I really do like greens. It’s not a matter of tolerating them when they appear or making use of them from time to time. I really want to eat greens every day, and I can find ways to include them in just about any meal. Just ask Kurt. So, the new book from Jenn Louis, The Book of Greens: A Cook's Compendium of 40 Varieties, from Arugula to Watercress, with More Than 175 Recipes of which I received a review copy, is a delight for me. Also, Jenn Louis’s last book was about making pasta and dumplings, and some of those elements, that I happen to love creating in the kitchen, find their way here into dishes incorporating greens. This all adds us up to quite a lot that makes me very happy in this new book. Now, the only issue with greens is that the sturdy, earthy, serious greens like kale, chard, and collards thrive in cooler weather and aren’t part of our local, summer produce. But happily, this book covers the full spectrum of greens, including a few I’d never thought to bring into the kitchen before, and there are hot weather options too. The book is organized alphabetically by the name of each green, and there’s general information about each variety followed by recipes for it. Since locally-grown arugula is available almost year-round, I was happy to try the Arugula Salad with Red Grapes, Feta, and Dukkah. It comes with a suggestion for trying it with plums in place of the grapes which I did, and it was fantastic. The Dandelion Salad Sandwich is a smart combination of a sweet butternut squash puree with dressed slivers of dandelion greens and slices of hard-boiled eggs. The Miso Soup with Turmeric, Wheat Noodles, and Gai Lan would also be great with bok choy or chard in place of the gai lan, and why have I never thought of taking miso soup in a direction like this? There’s a section just for herbs, one for lettuces, and one for root, fruit, and vegetable greens. It’s a great reminder that squash leaves, sweet potato greens, and tomato leaves are edible and available in the summer. I tried the Tomato Leaf-Egg Pasta with Butter and Fresh Tomato Sauce and highly recommend it. And, while I have enjoyed nopales from cactus plants, I’ve never harvested aloe vera stalks for juicing. There’s a cocktail made with aloe juice and tequila in the book, and I can’t wait to try it. The point of the book is, of course, to highlight greens, but the recipes grab attention first for the mix of flavors and textures. They just happen to be made with all sorts of different leaves.
When I read about the Mustard Greens Pancakes, I marked the page immediately. These were made with baby mustard greens that I was able to get at Boggy Creek Farm. They’re like scallion pancakes, and I’ve made a similar flatbread before. But here, the dough is layered with fresh, chopped greens before completing each pancake. It’s a fun process. A simple dough of flour and boiling water was made in the food processor. After it was kneaded and allowed to rest, it was divided into four pieces. Each piece was rolled into a disk, brushed with sesame oil, the disk was rolled up into a cylinder, the cylinder was then coiled like a snail, and then rolled into a disk again. The second time, that dish was brushed with sesame oil, topped with sliced mustard greens, and the cylinder and coil rolling was repeated before flattening the dough into a final disk shape. The pancakes were cooked in untoasted sesame oil for a few minutes per side until golden. A dipping sauce was made with soy sauce, rice vinegar, sesame oil, green onion, and ginger. The crisp pancakes were cut into wedges to be dipped into the sauce.
These pancakes are easy to like with their crispiness after being cooked in oil. More traditionally, they would be made with scallions layered into them rather than mustard greens, but I loved this take on the concept. Here and with most of the recipes in the book, the type of greens used can easily be changed without any problem. Just choose some greens, any greens, and this book will give you great inspiration for using them.
These aren’t like breakfast pancakes; they are like the scallion pancakes you might find in a Chinese restaurant. If you love the sharp, strong flavor of mustard, then you will love these. Or if you don’t want so much of a vegetal flavor, consider subbing in a milder green, such as spinach or chard. The dipping sauce drives home the Asian flavor.
Makes 4 pancakes, serves 4
Pancakes 2 cups [280 g] all-purpose flour 1 cup [240 ml] boiling water 1/4 cup [60 ml] toasted sesame oil 1 ounce [30 g] thinly sliced mustard greens (tender stems are okay) 1/4 cup [60 ml] neutral vegetable oil Kosher salt
Put the flour in a food processor. With the motor running, slowly drizzle in 3/4 cup of the boiling water. Process for 15 seconds. If dough does not come together, drizzle in more water, 1 tablespoon at a time, until it just comes together. Transfer to a work surface and knead a few times to form a smooth ball. Cover with plastic wrap and allow to rest for 30 minutes at room temperature.
Divide the dough into four even pieces and roll each into a smooth ball. Working one ball at a time, roll out into a disk, about 8 inches [20 cm] in diameter. Using a pastry brush, paint a very thin layer of sesame oil over the top of the disk. Roll the disk up like a cylinder, then start at the end and coil the dough like a snail’s shell. Flatten gently with your hand and roll again into an 8-inch [30-cm] disk.
Paint with another layer of sesame oil, lay an even layer of one-quarter of the sliced mustard greens, and roll up like a cylinder again. Again, coil like a snail shell, flatten gently, and re-roll into a 7-inch disk. Repeat with the remaining dough and mustard greens to make three more pancakes.
Combine all the dipping sauce ingredients and set aside at room temperature.
To cook the pancakes, heat the oil in an 8-inch (20-cm) nonstick or cast-iron pan over medium-
high heat. When the oil is hot, after 2 to 3 minutes, carefully slip one pancake into the hot oil. Cook, shaking the pan gently until the first side is an even golden brown, about 2 minutes. Carefully flip with a spatula or tongs and continue to cook until the second side is and even golden brown, about 2 more minutes. Season with salt, cut into 6 wedges. Serve immediately with the sauce for dipping.
Repeat with the remaining pancakes.
OTHER GREENS THAT WORK IN THIS RECIPE nettles,
spinach, lamb’s quarters
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by John T. Edge of which I received a review copy. All angles are covered from the atrocities of segregation and the civil rights movement as they related to restaurant dining to home cooking including how the food being prepared and access to it have changed over time. There’s a moving passage about Edna Lewis and how her family had “embraced agriculture.” “They found joy among the furrows and reveled in the pleasures of the table… In a rapidly urbanizing America, her knowledge of native plants and heritage breed animals, learned on the family farm, set her apart.” Alice Waters regarded Lewis as “an advocate of organic foods and seasonal diets.” Lewis, in fact, spoke of the same principles on which the Slow Food movement would later be founded. The book offers insights into the careers of several famous Southern chefs, food writers, restaurant founders, and producers and also delves into issues of industrial farming and the need for progress for laborers. And, it clearly depicts how a changing population “proved essential in the making of the newest New South, in which expertise in tortilla making mattered as much as biscuit baking, and Indian chefs set the standard for fried okra.” Sadly, that doesn’t mean all problems have been solved, but it is exciting to see the food landscape shift and new dishes become iconic. Edge writes: “Food serves the region as a unifying symbol of the creolized culture we have forged, making explicit connections between the breads made from corn that Native Americans call pone and the breads made from corn that Mexican Americans call tortillas, bonding Louisiana Cajuns of French descent who boil crawfish in water spiked with Tabasco mash and Vietnamese Texans on the Gulf Coast who boil crawfish in pots that bob with lemongrass.” It’s fascinating to experience the varied ways food products of the South can be interpreted. Here in Austin, I look to our local farms for inspiration based on what’s growing from month to month. A few weeks ago as the height of tomato season was coming to an end, I wanted to make use of the less popular part of the plants. The Tomato Leaf-Egg Pasta from The Book of Greens
was on my mind, and I had to give it a try.
