When Life And Used Car Salesmen Give You Lemons, And A Tomato-Corn Pie

Okay. Seriously. I have not gone off blogging, I swear. In fact, I really missed sharing food with you. This last absence from posting was totally not my fault. I'm not even sure who to blame. Our 1997 Jetta with 'Party Mix' patterned seats, or the shyster who sold Husband a faulty vehicle.




There we were, Husband and I, driving back to the city from our long weekend in Sauble Beach. Sauble Beach, with all its humble charms, is my version of heaven on earth. Yes, I know. There are hundreds of gorgeous European towns or tropical islands that could fight Sauble and easily win the title of "Paradise" in the hearts and minds of most folks. But Sauble Beach has always been that place that slows me way down and gets me quiet and still inside; that place where even the most everyday sort of experience gets honeyed. A box of fresh, hot fries from Dobson's, where Husband used to work as a surly, noodly pre-teen. The dense sound of crickets at night, as numerous as the stars visible in the night skies draped over all those pitch black country roads and majestic pines. The endless stretches of beach that almost entice a non-swimmer like me to play in the water like a kid. And the feel of sand under my feet.




Apparently though, the magic of the Beach has rather limited boundaries. Once outside the perimeters of Paradise, the simple traveller is entirely vulnerable to the cruel hands of Fate, who obviously drives a much higher status vehicle than our lowly VW Jetta. Because it was in Owen Sound that the transmission took its last stand against Husband's gentle and then not-so gentle cajoling and refused to switch gears as we tried to ascend a rather steep hill. The car rolled backwards. "EEEEeep!" I screeched, digging my nails into poor Husband's arm. He fought the stubborn transmission one more time, and again, we rolled backwards, down the hill. I nearly peed myself. Husband, much calmer than me, or in a weird state of calm rage, manoeuvred us into someone's driveway, where we sat, and let life's unfairness wash over us.

I am not as good as I thought in a crisis. In fact, I was embarrassingly helpless in this crisis. Thankfully, Husband's lovely family stepped in and rescued us with various acts of simple yet deeply felt acts of kindness. And I learned that, for one, don't underestimate the cliches of used car salesmen. I'm sure there are loads of really decent, honest ones out there, but for every one of them, there are, I fear, schools of corrupted dealers who couldn't care less about you once the cheque is written. I also learned not to underestimate the importance of family, because they are there when Luck and Good Fortune go out for a pack of smokes and take a long time coming home.

Barring car trouble, we did have a lovely stay in the country. We lazed on the beach. We read and played Yahtzee a lot. We took a few long walks with the dog. We did some shopping at local food stands, buying potatoes, green beans, eggs, green onions, peppers, vegetables with the soil and roots still attached. We ate and ate and then ate some more of these:




Husband's father had told us that the cookie-making factory, the one that makes the really good Speculaas cookies, had burned down. And there were no more being made until a new factory was built. So we stockpiled. And ate them accordingly, only to find out a few days later that the new factory had in fact already been built, and our gluttony was in vain. I think if I'm to have any fondness for Speculaas cookies ever again, I must take a break from their spicy, crumbly, crispy goodness.

We'd picked up some fresh sweet corn from a roadside stand, so I knew I wanted to do something with it. I had also been delighting in the photos of heirloom tomatoes in my Eating Well magazine, so when we finally got back to the city, I went out and bought some, and photographed their gorgeous little guts. I think I even had an American Beauty 'plastic bag' moment with these brightly coloured gems. They were so beautiful, I almost couldn't stand it.







When I was cutting the corn off the cobs to pan fry them with some green onion, I tried valiantly to pluck every last strand of corn silk off the kernels until I realized the ridiculousness of what I was doing. Is the editor of Bon Appetit coming over to sample my pie? Is anyone but me going to be picking corn silk out of their teeth?

So I stopped.




I whipped up the custard-like filling and after pre-baking the crust, layered the ingredients and poured the custard over top. It baked up perfectly, although it's still a slog trying to make a light, buttery pastry, so the crust was just the tiniest bit too crusty. But it tasted wonderful. The tomatoes were slightly tart, the corn just sweet enough and I was surprised at how little salt it needed! A chronic over-salter, I reigned myself in this time and it was just perfect.



With Husband's chemical accident, the car bellying up, and the various other little irritations and insanities I have no control over carving chips into my shoulders, it's so lovely and restorative to get back to my kitchen, where I am the reigning monarch. In my domain, wonderful food accidents and mistakes and triumphs mingle with solitude, thoughts, sunlight. Lemons, both real and metaphorical are turned into lemonade. And I imagine that somewhere out there, that corrupt used car salesman will sit next to Bad Luck and Misfortune, and get paid his dues.

Tomato-Corn Tart, inspired by/adapted from Eating Well Magazine, August 2010:

Crust:

3/4 cups whole wheat pastry flour (I only had regular whole wheat flour, so that's what I used)
3/4 cups all purpose flour
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp freshly ground pepper
1/3 cup olive oil
5 tbsp cold water

Directions:

1. Combine flours, salt and pepper in a large bowl. Make a well in the center, add the oil and water and gradually stir them together to form a soft dough. Wrap the dough in plastic and chill for 15 minutes.

2. Preheat the oven to 350/400 degrees F, depending on your oven. Roll the dough into a 12 inch circle on a lightly floured surface. Transfer (they make this sound easy) to a 9 inch pie pan, preferably deep-dish, and press into bottom and up sides. Line the dough with parchment paper large enough to lift out easily and fill evenly with pie weights or dry beans. Bake for 20 minutes. Remove the beans and parchment paper and let cool for at least 15 minutes, or up to 1 hour.

Filling:

3 large eggs
1 cup buttermilk (I had this on hand, but you can use regular milk)
1/3 cup goat cheese (the recipe calls for sharp cheddar, so whatever you prefer)
a hearty pinch of dried basil
a hearty pinch of dried oregano
1-2 cobs of corn, kernels shaved off
1 large green onion
2 medium tomatoes, or an assortment of heirloom tomatoes, thinly sliced
coarse salt

Directions:

1. In a blender, combine the eggs, buttermilk and goat cheese, dried basil and oregano. Pulse till well combined and set aside.

2. Heat some olive oil in a skillet and saute the corn and green onion over medium-high heat for about 4-5 minutes, stirring constantly. You just want to soften them a bit.

3. Pour the corn-onion mixture over the crust bottom. Pour in the custard filling and layer the tomatoes over top (there may be some extra liquid left over) Take a small pinch of coarse salt and sprinkle it over the unbaked pie; there's not much salt in this recipe, so you can indulge in a few lovely grains of it with each bite.

4. Bake the pie for about 40-50 minutes, or until the custard has set. Let cool for about 15 minutes before serving.

Northern Underexposure, And Corn Salad With Zucchini Bread

I do this thing that drives Husband crazy, and not in a good way. Whenever we're driving out of town, I'll usually find myself saying something like "Let's go visit a local dairy!" with the hopes of picking up some freshly churned ice cream, or a few pint glass bottles full of local milk that came from long lashed cows named Bitsy and Dotty Jo, milked by kindly-dispositioned farmers sitting on wooden stools. I think I'm labouring under the misapprehension that there are dairies and creameries dotting the province's northern landscape like stars in the night sky, just waiting for wide-eyed city folk like me to come by. Husband usually rolls his eyes and does this deep exhalation thing, "Hhhhaaaaa", and I'm left to contemplate why my fairytale vision of rural Ontario is so ridiculously out of touch with reality.

There's a part of me that's sure it's not like this at all. I'm quite confident the Rockwellian version of farming I've internalized through movies and fiction is all wrong, is just another faraway idea I've built in my head to escape to when city life sometimes loses its lustre. But even more so, I think at heart I romanticize because I want to forge some kind of connection with the food that's grown here, in our country. I want to believe that the produce, the meats, the milks and cheeses and grains I buy have been lovingly tended, produced and sold by the folks who yielded them. I want to rinse my imagination of the realities of industrial-sized farms, unnaturally fattened animals in cages, hormone-injected meat, pesticide run-offs.

So I suppose for someone like me who eschews what is for what should be, getting my Good Food Box is the perfect compromise. I get mostly local produce to play with, the farmers get a fair deal and Husband gets to keep his sanity on road trips. (Actually, he doesn't. I don't foresee a point in the future where I don't ask about local dairies. I can't help myself.)

So with last week's box and a lunch date with my best friend, I decided to make a corn and zucchini salad and some zucchini bread. I want to note that this was NOT the most awesome corn I've ever eaten. While I'm a firm believer that fresh is always better than frozen or canned, I don't think we're yet in the heart of corn season, and these cobs were a little ornery, a little stingy with the flavour. These cobs had been woken up too early and were fighting deliciousness all the way.






















I pan-fried the corn kernels I'd sliced off with some chopped up zucchinis in some olive oil and a dash of oregano, just until everything was a bit softened. I set it aside to cool while I made the zingy dressing;














I put it together with some avocados, a bit of tomato, a mountain of fresh cilantro and green onions and set it aside. While the flavours sat around getting to know each other, I got the zucchini bread ready with some arm-aching grating;















My KitchenAid mixer in Cobalt Blue was a flurry of motion;










And after a spell in the oven (who's been behaving quite well indeed lately, necessitating, for now, the removal of the descriptor "Demonic") out came a lovely little loaf with flecks of the green zucchini and a tasty texture that hovered between muffin and cake;














I packed everything up and biked over to my best friend's workplace, now ravenous from my morning's industriousness; a hunger that makes food taste like a miracle when you finally sit down to eat. And I realized that the life cycle of a meal - from raw ingredients and recipe, to preparing, to cooking and eating with a beloved friend - was perhaps the most heartfelt connection I could make with my food.

Corn And Zucchini Salad With Zingy Dressing:

2-3 ears of corn, kernels shaved off the cob
1 large zucchini, diced
1-2 tbsp olive oil
A healthy pinch of oregano
1/8 tsp cayenne pepper
1/2 tomato cut into small pieces (if you like tomato, use more! I only had a half.)
1 ripe avocado, diced
2 green onions, thinly sliced
1/2 cup packed cilantro leaves, finely chopped
salt and pepper, to taste

Directions:

1. In a large skillet over medium heat, warm up the olive oil. Add the corn and zucchini, oregano and cayenne and stir frequently till the corn and zucchini are softened but not too broken down. Set aside to come to room temperature.

2. Once cooled, add the rest of the ingredients and top with the dressing. It's best to let this sit a few hours, and is even better the next day.

Zingy Dressing:

2-3 tbsp olive oil
juice and zest of 1 lime
dash of honey
1/4-1/2 tsp red pepper flakes (more or less, to your taste)
1/2 tsp chili powder
salt and pepper to taste

Combine all ingredients. Whisk till well mixed and pour over salad.

Zucchini Bread, from Joy Of Baking: (I didn't use the nuts or frosting that was part of the original recipe, but I bet they'd taste amazing with this loaf)

1 cup zucchini, grated
1/2 cup apple, peeled and grated
1 1/2 cups all purpose flour
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/4 tsp ground nutmeg
1/2 cup vegetable, safflower, corn or canola oil
1 cup white sugar (I cut it down to 3/4 cup and it was great)
2 large eggs
1 tsp pure vanilla extract

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease a regular sized loaf pan. In a large bowl, combine all the dry ingredients; from the flour to the nutmeg.

2. In stand mixer, or with a hand mixer, beat the oil, sugar, eggs and vanilla until well blended, about 2 minutes. Add the grated zucchini and apple; then the flour mixture, beating till just combined. Pour batter into loaf pan and bake for approximately 50-60 minutes, or until a tester knife comes out clean. Let cool properly before slicing.

A Joyful Salad

What happens when you mix lemon-yellow corn and night-black beans in a frying pan with some oil and lime juice and chili powder? Magic! What happens when you throw these things in a bowl with sunset-coloured mango and fresh, crunchy lettuce that reminds you that spring is just around the corner and top it all with chicken and a dressing that dances on the tongue? Delight! What happens when you manage to get all the elements on one forkful into your mouth with minimal spillage? Pure joy.

Initially, I wanted to call this a "Southwest Salad". But I've never actually been to any of the Southwestern states (except in my wildest dreams) so I'm not 100% sure this could be classified as "Southwestern". Because I think my idea of that region of the world is at best ill-informed by subpar taco kit commercials, Tex-Mex bar food and 'Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman'. And I thought that maybe the idea that everyone in this area lives in adobe houses, wears turquoise jewelry and rides on horseback while eating refried bean tortillas might just be as tiresome as Canadians living in igloos, tripping over beavers everywhere and having their crime managed by adorable Mounties. So I decided to keep my cultural uncertainty to myself and call this what it was: a joy to make, a joy to eat. A Joyful Salad.

It didn't take long to throw together. It's open for adapting to your personal taste; add bacon, add a soft, unripened cheese, add tomatoes, cilantro, crumbled up tortilla chips. Just don't forget to pour yourself a cold glass of beer and get a slice of crusty bread with a generous slathering of butter or cream cheese or whatever tickles your fancy. I swear, if you close your eyes mid-mouthful, you can almost feel the sun on your face.

As always, please bear in mind that I made the approximate amount for one person who loves leftovers. And eats big plates of stuff. Feel free to double the amounts for two or more participants.

Joyful Salad:

vegetable oil for pan-frying
1 boneless chicken breast cut into chunks
1/2 onion, finely chopped
1 clove garlic, finely chopped
1/2 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp smoked paprika
dash of cayenne pepper
1/2-3/4 cup corn, ideally fresh, but frozen or canned will do just fine
1/2-3/4 cup black beans, rinsed
Juice of 1 lime (or more, if you're like me and love it fierce!)
1 ripe mango sliced and diced into smallish chunks
1/2 bunch of romaine lettuce, rinsed and chopped
Shredded cheddar

1. In small frying pan, heat some oil and add chicken breast chunks. Pan-fry till golden and well cooked - cooking times will vary depending on stoves or using fresh or frozen chicken, so I won't offer a time estimate.

2. In frying pan heat oil. Add the onion and garlic and saute till almost translucent, about 5-7 minutes, over medium heat. Set aside to cool in medium sized bowl.

3. In same frying pan, heat up a touch more oil. Add the chili powder and paprika and stir constantly for about 1 minute. Toss in the corn and black beans and some lime juice and coat with the spice mixture. Gently saute for about 5-10 minutes. Set aside to cool - you can lay it out on a baking sheet to speed it up. When cooled, throw it all into the medium sized bowl with the onion-garlic mixture, the mango and the chicken and more lime juice.

4. Wash and chop the lettuce. Dry it as best you can; any water will dilute the dressing. Add all the ingredients to the lettuce and serve the dressing on the side.

Southwestern Ranch Dressing, via Everybody Likes Sandwiches, featured on Poppytalk (whew!)

1 c buttermilk
1/4 c Greek yogurt
1/4 c mayonnaise
1 chipotle chili in adobo, minced + 1/2 t of the adobo sauce
1/4 t dried red chili flakes
1/4 t hot smoked paprika
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 pinch each of dried dill & oregano
1/2 t kosher salt
1 t freshly ground pepper
juice & zest of 1/2 lemon

1. Put all the ingredients in a mason jar and shake it till well combined! Easy, huh?