Omnomicon

So it would appear that the rest of the country has easy access to local produce for more than 3 months of the year. Must be nice, assholes.

Okay, I lied, nobody’s an asshole, I’m just super jealous. I was raised in the classic suburban white girl tradition of New Hampshire. And to us, the concept of vegetable seasonality was . . . simplistic. We had corn on the cob once a year, my mom made zucchini breads in August (and froze about a dozen), we went apple picking in September and in October we’d choose a pumpkin to carve as a family. The rest of the year we enjoyed carrots, potatoes, apples, oranges and frozen vegetables. My  mom and dad will no doubt read this and lay the guilt on how I make them sound like SUCH bad parents who never fed their kids ANY vegetables, which is not the case, the point here is that seasonality just never stuck with me.

So last year it occurred to me that maybe corn doesn’t get harvested on a single day of the year, and also, what is that day anyway, and hey, plants *do* grow in Massachusetts, so logic would dictate that some of them are edible, right? Perhaps this . . . what do you call it . . . agriculture? thing?? had made its way from the Midwest to our humble corner of the country? This must make me sound horrifically stupid, but really, I’d never seen a well-stocked farmer’s market (they have terrible hours around here, like middle-of-the-afternoon-on-a-Wednesday hours), and the most local veggies I’d seen were singly sold on the side of the road. After much searching, I found Berberian’s Farm in Northborough (no site, no link) and caught up with everyone else that the freshest food is local and that fresh really does make a difference.

This summer I’d like to document an answer to the question that popped up for me only last year: so what’s in season?

On May 13th, it was this junk:

(I do use the term “junk” loosely) We’re looking at radishes, arugula, asparagus, rhubarb and mint.

Needless to say, I did try to think of some clever recipe using only these ingredients, but you know, they really just don’t go together very well, and what’s more, the way I eat them isn’t very interesting. For example, I steamed the radish.

And while its Barbie appeal was heightened significantly, it didn’t taste like much of anything other than maybe overboiled summer squash, so I salted and peppered and ate it on the side with this.

And you can see how I couldn’t in good faith make an entire blog post about this because it’s like cheating . . . wait, what’s that, Bitten Word? Martha had a recipe for poached eggs on asparagus? Wow, either I’m next in line to wear that lady’s heavy crown, or she’s out of actual recipes, because “place poached egg upon steamed asparagus” is not exactly what I would describe as a “recipe” so much as “an idea I came up with on the fly and I’m sure I’m not the first.”

Still, it was really good. Recipe: toss your ‘spargus with 1 tsp olive oil, roast at 500^o for 5 minutes while you fry an egg, then salt & pepper & sprinkle with lemon juice if desired and place the egg on top. The end.

Alright, so I did manage to get these big ole honkin rhubarbs though, and I did manage to come up with a recipe for them, and it’s not even strawberry-related! I know, I’m so original, right? First though, check out how huge they were!

The length of my arm, they were! This was the only way I could think to fit them in my lens, as it does not zoom and I’m sick of that overdone depth-of-field bullshit. Anyway, then I chopped ’em up.

Add a healthy dose of sugar because these things are as sour as lemons.

Then stew them for a few moments, make some oatmeal, and enjoy as follows. This makes an excellent breakfast or dessert, complete with vegetable, protein, and fiber. There’s no fat unless you want to add some, it’s easy to make vegan with some yogurt substitution action, and even if you don’t give a shit about any of that diet stuff, you will still like it. The rhubarb tastes just like pink lemonade, there’s just enough oatmeal to make it feel like a real dessert and the yogurt offers a neutral contrast in flavour and texture. I have to say, it far exceeded my vision!

 

 

Healthy Rhubarb-Parfait-Cobbler-Type-Thing
This dessert (or breakfast) has a rosy blush that can aid a young lady in her pursuit to maintain her girlish figure. In other words, it looks nice and ain’t bad for ya!

2.5 c (about 1/2 lb or 4-5 feet) rhubarb stalks
1/2 c sugar
1/2 c dry oatmeal
3/4 c water
1 c yogurt (fat-free, Greek, full-fat, your pick!)
1/2 tsp sugar (in addition to the sugar above)
1/2 tsp vanilla extract

Rinse the rhubarb, then chop into 1/2″ chunks. Toss with 1/2 c sugar. This is easiest to do in the saucepan you’ll be cooking in—lid it then swirl it around til the chunks are coated. Heat over medium-low heat, stirring every minute or so. You’ll notice that even though you started with no extra water in the pot, suddenly all the rhubarb surrenders its water and you’ll have a kind of stew. Whenever you stir, give one of the chunks a fork to see if it’s tender; as soon as that happens, turn off the heat. It should happen within ten minute or so (if not, try medium heat for a little while, but keep an eye out for burnt bottoms!).

While that’s cooking, prepare the oatmeal. I microwaved mine because um, the stove was kind of already taken. 1/2 c oatmeal to 3/4 water. The oatmeal package will say otherwise; tell it to take a hike. Microwave 2.5 minutes.

Also, mix the yogurt with the vanilla and remaining sugar.

To assemble, we’re really just dividing everything into rough fours: 1/4 c rhubarb, top with a generous tablespoon of the oatmeal, then finish off with 1/4 c yogurt.

 

 

nutrition summary (for 1 serving of 4): 185 calories, 1g fat, 2g fiber; about 3 weight watchers points

So by now we all know that milk (after a little cooking and straining) becomes yogurt, and strained yogurt becomes Greek yogurt, but if you keep straining for a little longer, you get yogurt cheese. Think fat-free cream cheese, except without weird ingredients like structuring proteins, and you can make it at home. I have no problem with chemicals, but I am a fan of simplicity, and if I can eat the same thing with less stuff in it, I’d rather.

So as it turns out yogurt cheese is called different things in different places. This foodstuff came to my attention at a Middle-Eastern restaurant where it was called “labneh,” alternately spelled “labaneh,” its Lebanese name. Indians call it “dahi,” and for some reason Wikipedia seems to think it’s the same thing as Greek yogurt. Since I do operate under the assumption that Wikipedia knows better than I, so I’m guessing that Greek yogurt is technically a particularly loosely-textured yogurt cheese. Given its recent commercialization, I will refer to Greek yogurt as the stuff you get in the store and yogurt cheese as the stuff with a texture like cream cheese.

At this point, I can’t imagine I’m spoiling anything by pointing out that this post could be alternately titled “how to make labaneh,” “how to make labneh,” “how to make dahi,” or “how to make yoghurt cheese.”

For the last few weeks I’ve been experimenting on how to get this right. Since yogurt is cheaper to get in large quantities, I’d been straining it extensively, if effort put into leaving something there for awhile can accurately be described as “extensive.” Seemed easiest to do it with a strainer.

And uh, I ended up with Greek yogurt. With a strange sort of texture.

I tried a few variations on this: in the fridge and on the counter, each checked every 12 hours or so and I never really got any further than Greek yogurt (for the record, on the counter is quicker). Which is all well and good, except that I can buy Greek yogurt at the store, and the quality is better, and given the yield per cup of yogurt, it costs about the same too, so as far as I’m concerned there’s no convincing argument to make Greek yogurt at home, other than maybe to try it out and get some indie cred from your more-tattooed friends.

And besides, I wanted labneh, which I can’t buy at the store, and wtf is up with the yogurt that refuses to cooperate? The entire internet agreed it only takes 24 hours to make this shit!

Just then, a little piece of my childhood reached out with a warm, knowing smile.

Alright, I lied, it was an email from someone I’ve never met who may have been smiling, but I wouldn’t know. What I do know, however, is that she works for Stonyfield Farm. I grew up going on field trips to Stonyfield Farm, as their headquarters are situated a few towns over from my hometown. I’m pretty sure that their organic yogurt was the first time I’d ever even seen the word “organic” on a foodstuff, because that trend took a little while to make it to New Hampshire. These people are trendsetters.

So Stonyfield wants to create some food blog buzz about their new organic, fat free, low cal, totally delicious Greek yogurt, affectionately called “Oikos” by sending along some “get it free” coupons. I was happy to accommodate for a few reasons. Excellent opportunity for a list.

1. Food blog perks. Yay!
2. What a convenient coincidence, I have been buying lots of yogurt lately for this labneh thing and could use the discount.
3. I’m definitely not an organic foodie, but I am a HUGE proponent of buying local. Stonyfield Farm is a scant 50 miles from my home, which in food-source terms is my backyard.
4. I figured out some food science.

So what do you do with Greek yogurt, other than just substitute it for regular yogurt in stuff? Well, there’s the boring but tasty “stir in some vanilla and honey” thing.

But I wouldn’t really call that a recipe. So I strained it, figuring that starting out at the Greek yogurt stage would cut my work in half and I could do a little product placement and maybe it would even work this time.

This reminds me of the stork’s creepy baby-in-a-bag thing! I do this at room temperature because it seems to work more quickly and because it’s kind of a pain in the ass to work around a big bowl in my fridge. And I mean, we’re effectively just breeding bacteria here anyway, so this method doesn’t make me all that squeamish.

After just an overnight stint in the suggestive sling *ahem* I awoke to sheer delight. LABNEH! My quest, it was ended.

A perfect cream cheese texture . . . smooth, none of the weird pebbliness of previous attempts. I refused to believe this was just because organic is better, and compared Stonyfield’s ingredient list to that of other fat free yogurts. Turns out that Stonyfield has only milk + bacteria, whereas the other three cartons I examined included pectin or milk solids as thickeners. Now in terms of eating yogurt straight up, I don’t care if it’s thick because of milk solids or gelatin or inferior bacteria, but for my purposes here, Stonyfield worked out pretty well.

So here’s what you came for:

How to Make Yogurt Cheese

1 5.3 oz cup Greek yogurt (ingredients should be just milk + bacteria—no milk solids, pectin nor gelatin allowed!)
1 pinch salt
a piece of cheesecloth or muslin or even a very strong paper towel if you are daring
some place to suspend a leaky bag of yogurt overnight

Mix the yogurt & salt, make a bag out of the cheesecloth, then suspend it at room temperature for 8-12 hours with a bowl underneath to collect the whey as it drains off.

That’s pretty much it. Notes:

• I use a rubber band to hang the parcel from a cabinet knob.
• You can try this in the fridge, it will take a little bit longer.
• And you can use regular yogurt too, but it too will take longer. Regular, non-Greek yogurt will yield about 1/3 c for every cup you use.
• 3.5 oz of Stonyfield Farm Oikos yielded about 1/3 c yogurt cheese as well. Amount will vary depending on how long you strain and what brand of Greek yogurt you use.

Serve in one of the manners below.

Traditional Labneh
like how I had it at that restaurant that time

Spread some of the yogurt cheese on a plate, drizzle some olive oil atop, serve with any combination of the following: pita, olives, tomatoes, chickpeas, cucumbers, hummus, bruised mint, sprinkles of other herbs or spices. Simple but the best application I’ve found to date.

Jalapeno Yogurt Cream Cheese

1/3 c yogurt cheese (this recipe also works just fine for cream cheese if you omit the olive oil)
a drop or two of olive oil (brings out flavour)
pinch garlic powder
1/4 jalapeno, seeded and finely diced

Mix. Let mingle in fridge for a good while. Overnight would be ideal. Serve. Let me know if you try this one, I think it could use some work, but the idea is solid.

Cheaty-Pants Light Cherry Cheesecake Bites
makes just a few—eat alone or share with 1 other friend

1/3 c yogurt cheese
2-3 graham crackers (before you snap at perforation)
2 tsp sugar
2 drops vanilla extract
frozen cherries, thawed

Mix the yogurt cheese with the sugar and vanilla. Okay, NOW snap the graham crackers at the perforation, then slice each baby rectangle in half to make little squares. Spread a little cheesecake mixture onto each square, then top with a cherry and a little extra sprinkle of sugar. The graham crackers will get soggy very quickly, so these are not make-ahead nor party friendly. Think of it as a special private little treat to enjoy as you make them.

I am pleased to announce Omnomicon’s very first giveaway! And not bad for a first, if I say so myself.

It all started with a dear reader, noinamg, sending me the following email.

i would like to pose you a challenge if i may

i would like something to do with my Route 11 Mama Zuma’s Habanero (the red bag ones)
they are so spicy that even one chip is like hell in your mouth. since i cannot actually eat these, do you have a suggestion for a dish to use them in somehow?

Well, man, I do believe I can oblige, courtesy of the fine folks at Route 11.

This chick is badass. Wickedly badass. Also, a total babe.

I guess the word they’re going for here is really “hot,” and though hot chicks rarely have anything to do with habaneros, they certainly can’t hurt sales, right? These are like really good bbq chips, except particularly tongue-burning. They’re almost diet friendly in that you have to take a little bit of break between chips.

Really hot potato chips with an actual flavour to boot. It’s a good thing.

So here’s the giveaway: I will be sending out two bags of Mama Zuma’s Habanero Chips to two randomly-chosen readers. Would you like to win some? Leave a comment before 6pm EST Friday, March 6th describing what you would do with your Mama Zuma’s. (American readers only–apologies to my foreign friends, but I’m sending these out on my own dollar and funds are low).

Will you be enjoying them crunched into your tuna fish sammich? I can’t be the only one who does that. Perhaps slipping some to your Indian friend who keeps bragging about how white people don’t know what truly spicy food is. Or maybe even giving my recipe below a polite little shot. At the very least, it has a topical and interesting title.

Noinmang, you’re on. We’re making Mama Zuma’s Red Hot Gams.

First de-skin, de-fat, rinse and pat dry some chicken thighs to give yourself a nice fresh non-slimy surface. As I happen to be in possession of a veritable plethora of kitchen towels, I reserve one specifically for these kinds of things.

Next we’re going to flour, butter, then chippy the thighs and in that order. It helps conserve resources by using bowls that just barely fit a single thigh, particularly the chips. I found that one 2 oz bag of Mama Zuma’s crumbled up to *just* enough for four thighs.

Next is a dunk in butter to make the chips stick, and then the crumbled chips.

Now we bake for a bit. In the meantime, let’s prepare a little something in case the chicken’s still too much. It’s a pretty simple yogurt/cucumber/parsley concoction that might also work well as a lighter alternative to blue cheese dressing for your buffalo wings. Essentially, the only prep here is in a food processor.

And ohhhhh man. What a meal this made.

Mama Zuma’s Red Hot Gams

4 chicken thighs (bone in our out, your choice)
2 oz Mama Zuma’s Revenge Habanero Potato Chips (one bag) [in a real pinch you can use your favourite brand of hot potato chips, or even plain ones if you’re not into the spicy thing]
3 tbsp butter, melted (no worries, you won’t be using all of it)
1/4 c flour

Preheat oven to 375^o.

Remove the skin and trim the fat from the chicken thighs, unless they came skinned and boneless. Now rinse the thighs and pat dry.

Crumble the Mama Zuma’s in the bag until a rough but not fine consistency.

For “breading” the chicken, using the smallest bowls you have that will fit the thighs is the best way to economize your ingredients. First flour the chicken on both sides, dip quickly in butter and let drip dry a few moments before grinding the chicken into the chip crumbles. Really grind it in there, and on both sides; you want the chips to be all pokey into the surface, as they’ll stay better that way.

Place chicken on a cookie sheet and pat in any remaining chip crumbs, since they’re already contaminated and preciously delicious.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until the meat reaches an internal temperature of 165. Serve with . . .

Aleta’s Mama Zuma Antidote: Cucumber Chill-Out Sauce

1/2 c yogurt
about 2 tbsp loosely packed parsley leaves
1″ of cucumber, peeled and chopped
1 tsp lemon juice
pinch of salt

Put all that stuff up there into a food processor and process for a minute or so, until the cucumber is ground. Add an extra 1″ of cucumber, dice, to the finished sauce, if desired.

Don’t forget to leave your comment if’n you’d like to give Mama Zuma’s a try! Contest closes Friday at 6pm EST.