REAL Maple Syrup

It’s the tail end of maple syrup season in the Northeast, where the maple trees are tapped and the sap is harvested and boiled down. According to a recent article in the New York Times, Vermont produces the majority of the maple syrup in the U.S., producing some 500,000 gallons this year, but Maine, New York and even Ohio (my home state) hold their own, each producing more than 100,000 gallons a year. Canada, specifically Quebec, far surpasses the U.S. in syrup production, producing several million gallons last year. The difference largely stems from the fact that Canada taps one third of its trees where Vermont only taps about two percent.

In the article, I also read that the majority of domestic producers here are family operations, using the traditional technique of boring a hole in the tree and inserting a tube to collect the sap in buckets as it runs down. Larger scale operations (like those in Canada) often use more efficient practices like tapping the tree with plastic tubing with suction, then pumping it directly into a building where the syrup is produced. The precision and care involved in traditional methods all seem hopelessly romantic to a girl living in the concrete jungle of Chicago.

As a kid, my schoolmates and I would take field trips to local maple syrup producers to see the tapped trees. We’d also visit the sugar shacks where the syrup is boiled down, and finally taste the fresh syrup. There has always been something magical about pure maple syrup. But until my adult life, I never realized it was due to the fact that Mrs. Butterworth’s and other commercial brands of syrup are typically maple-flavored high-fructose corn syrup. There’s a place for these imitation syrups, since pure maple can cost upwards of $9 for an 8.5 ounce bottle, but nothing beats the original.

Maple syrup season is the perfect time for homemade pancakes. I got a real taste for pancakes this weekend after I read a post on the Amateur Gourmet blog about cream of wheat pancakes, with a crusty outside and warm gooey center, the writer had at a brunch spot in NYC. Those I made below are not quite as exciting, but I do love apple cinnamon pancakes, and below is a simple recipe that works well. I substituted 1 tablespoon of sugar with spiced sugar from a local outlet, The Spice House, which consists of cinnamon, cloves and brown sugar, among other things. You don’t have to do this but the other spices added a complexity to the flavor of the fluffy cakes that I enjoyed.

Perfect Pancakes
2 cups all-purpose flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoons salt
2 tablespoons sugar
1 egg
2 cups milk, or more if mixture is dry
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon cinnamon
3 tablespoons veg. oil
1 eating apple, such as pink lady or fuji

Makes enough for 4-6 people

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Chow-Chow

In my mind, there are few edible things in this world more satisfying than a sandwich. I like them all, from the most basic egg salad on white to something decadent like grilled brie, spinach and sauteed onions on ciabatta. Maybe it’s the combination of textures, or perhaps it’s the mix of flavors and food groups that I like. It very simply may just be the fact that many sandwiches can include mayonnaise, a condiment with which I have strangely strong affinity. I don’t know, and I don’t care. But what I do know is that I can always go for a good sandwich, any time, anywhere, whether I’m hungry or not. The mere thought of one just strikes a chord somewhere in me.

Today I had a delightful sandwich. I had little food in the fridge, so I threw together a random combination of things, with surprisingly good results. I started with a toasted onion roll, slathered on one side with light Hellman’s Mayo. I then added sliced hard-boiled egg, avocado, red onion, a few ripped spinach leaves and a piece of white American cheese from the deli. To top it all off, I slathered the top piece of the roll with the last remaining bits of Leola’s Cajun Chow Chow, a spicy-sweet salsa-like condiment that’s a classic condiment to Southern cuisine. I picked up the jar from the Stover’s stall at the Daley Plaza Farmer’s Market last summer. The family is from Berrien Springs, Michigan, and they say the recipe has been in their family for years.

I bought the chow-chow from the Stover’s because I’d recently had it for the first time at Cochon, a restaurant by Donald Link in New Orleans. His cuisine is Contemporary Southern, and delicious as hell. I was there with my former boss, who grew up in South Carolina. When she gave the restaurant two thumbs up, I knew it was the real deal.

In her food dictionary, Food Lover’s Companion (2nd edition), Susan Tyler Herbst defines chow-chow as “a mustard-flavored mixed-vegetable-and-pickle relish. Herbst goes on to say that it is thought that Chinese railroad workers first brought chow-chow to America, and that originally it was a condiment of orange peel and ginger in a heavy syrup. What I had today on my sandwich was nothing like that! Stover’s version is a mixture of green tomatoes, onions, peppers, vinegar, carrots, habenero and cayenne peppers, sugar and spices. It has a mild heat, but the touch of sugar along with the vegetables balances it nicely. The vinegar makes it a good topping for grilled meats. Many of the chow-chow versions I’ve seen include cabbage as the star ingredient, though I imagine the components vary heavily by family and region.

I’ve topped a grilled pork chop with chow-chow and also just had it on crackers (which is how the Stover’s say they eat it). I imagine it would also be good with Southern favorite fried green tomatoes, or even with fish or shellfish.

All of the things I just listed would be mighty fine between two slices of bread. I’ll have to try them someday. After all, you just really can’t go wrong with a good sandwich.

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Pomegranates

After the bounty of summer farmer’s markets, one item I look forward to during the fall and winter months is the arrival of the pomegranate harvest. Pomegranates — native to the Middle East and India but grown in California in this country — are such an interesting and beautiful fruit. The edible part is the blood-red juice sacs, or seeds, that are clustered within a filmy membrane layered inside the pink-speckled skin.

When I first started experimenting with pomegranates, I would slice them in half and fight through the membranes with a spoon to force out the seeds. Opening the fruit in this manner causes the bright fuchsia-colored juice within the juicy seeds — that will certainly stain everything from the counter to the cutting board to your clothing — to explode all over me, so I resorted to wearing a tie dyed t-shirt when working with them, which is not always convenient.

I was saved last year when the Chicago Tribune printed a guide from the Pomegranate Council’s website on opening pomegranates with no mess. The method involves carefully slicing the fruit into pieces, then placing the segments into a bowl of water and carefully peeling the membranes back and popping out the seeds within. The pithy membranes float to the top and can be easily skimmed off, and the fruits of your labor are waiting at the bottom of the bowl.

While pomegranate seeds are great sprinkled over green salads with red onions and feta, or tossed in yogurt and granola for breakfast, my favorite way to enjoy them is over vanilla ice cream. Just toss a handful of seeds into your bowl, and release the potent juice from the seeds to by pressing them against the bowl with the back of your spoon. The juice will mix with the creamy ice cream and turn the whole bowl hot pink. Though you may want to dig out a tie dyed t-shirt if you’re going to eat them like this.

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Fakesgiving

Last weekend, my roommates and I held our annual Fakesgiving feast, which is our version of Thanksgiving, only with friends and in mid-October. Like last year, we decided to fry our bird in a turkey fryer with peanut oil. It only took 56 minutes, and the meat was tender and moist with a crisp outer skin.

Also new this year, I ordered the 18-pound bird locally, from a farmer I found through Green City Market’s website, which lists all the producers who have earned spots at the famous Chicago farmer’s market. When I picked up the turkey at Green City the Saturday before, Tim Ifft of TJ’s Pastured Free Range Poultry out of Piper City, about 60 miles downstate from Chicago, explained to me that our turkey was “processed” the Thursday before our Sunday feast at an Amish processing facility near Kankakee, Ill. The facility is USDA-certified and operates much like other modern operations do, only this one sports gas lights (as the Amish don’t use electricity) and the workers wear traditional dress. I learned the same facility processes poultry for many local farmers whose clients include fine restaurants in the Chicago area and beyond, such as Frontera Grill.

Understanding our turkey’s history and really considering its life and death which took place such a short time before we cooked and ate it, caused me pause. Cleaning the turkey before cooking it was a somewhat somber experience; I felt connected to my food like never before. Sourcing the turkey, meeting the farmer and learning the backstory of the centerpiece to our Fakesgiving feast was a great experience to be remembered and repeated in the coming years.

There was a lot to be thankful for at Fakesgiving this year, including lots of delicious dishes, flowing wine and great conversation. Best of all? No football…:)

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