RE-ENTRY

I’m thinking next summer of putting a moratorium on my Down East BLTs, which are Bacon, Lobster and Tomato rolls. They are my version of Maine’s justly revered lobster rolls. Basically, they’re about lots and lots of fresh-picked lobster meat mixed with mayonnaise that’s been drizzled with the juice of tomatoes rubbed against a fine-mesh sieve. You take the residual juices and whip them with mayo. There are only a couple other tricks – I don’t chop celery stalks, for instance, but rather mince celery leaves and add them to the lobster salad. I layer a slice or two of bacon inside the top-loading hot dog roll (and you can find them in these parts if you look hard enough, made by Pepperidge Farm and called either New England-style rolls or top-sliced rolls), a very thin slice of ripe tomato and pile on the lobster salad.

This is all there is to it. But every time we have folks over to dinner when we’re up in Maine, they want Down East BLTs. I love them, but I also love making lots of different things. So I told Jay he’s getting something else next summer and I told Rob he’s only got one more year of Down East BLTs, then he, too, has to cope with something lobster-new. Alison and Melissa, having trekked this year from Houston and Vermont respectively to the little cottage on Penobscot Bay, still have a few years of Down East BLTs to go before they hit the no-more wall.

Not that I didn’t cook anything else. Greens – oh, oh, the greens from Chase’s! That would be Chase’s Daily in Belfast, part restaurant, part farm market. At 11 a.m. Tuesdays through Saturdays, the truck from Chase’s Farm pulls up to the back door of Chase’s Daily and starts unloading. Bunches of mixed greens – amaranth, miner’s, kale, chard, feathery Asian leaves and more, more, all string-tied in the same beautiful bunches. Heirloom tomatoes, cups and cups of colorful cherry tomatoes, onions red, white and yellow, leeks, beans of all stripes – skinny and fat, Romano and thread-thin yellow. Herbs galore, potatoes, potatoes, potatoes, squashes, melons, bouncy heads of lettuce, berries – tiny strawberries, tinier wild blueberries. And flowers, which I never get around to buying, since I’m always at three shopping bags of produce and already short a hand. I manage to squeeze in a bread or three, baked by the Chase family, as well, and rush home to contemplate.

Oh, dear, and I also go to the farmers’ markets. It’s the same there.

So I have this fridge full of produce, counters laden with tomatoes-potatoes, and everyone wants Down East BLTs???? You understand my dilemma.

Don’t feel too sorry for me. This year I forced on folks a potato salad dressed in lemon-mustard vinaigrette and powered by lots of parsley. Potatoes, too, partnered with Ducktrap Farms peppery smoked mackerel. Greens, of course, stir-fried crisply and squirted with lemon juice, as they do as Chase’s. Beans blanched and dipped in all sorts of pungent things. Mostly it was thread-bare stuff – food that let the all the various vegetables to their own tunes. It was glorious. Yes, I had a few Whoopie Pies. Why not? And crab rolls and fried clams up at Bagaduce Lunch on the Blue Hill Peninsula. Of course.

But though re-entry is hard – have you ever watched a nearly full moon rise over Penobscot Bay, when Penobscot Bay is inches away? – I felt so, so much better this year about Garden State produce. The heirloom tomatoes at Clayton Farm and The Farm in Freehold Township slam-dunk the tomatoes I had in Maine. Twin Pond Farm’s Sicilian eggplant remains the champ. The wonderful island crops out at Hallock’s rock and rule. Used to be that I came home from Maine mourning the loss of what I was leaving behind. This morning, as I write this, I’m eager to set out to see what’s on the farms here right now. I know it will inspire me.

So I’m off and scouting. In the coming days, I’ll chat with y’all about some of the issues you raised in posts below (a chain restaurant where Jersey Freeze is now??? What???) and, if you’d like, talk more about Maine.

Right now, I’m hungry. Again.

Cheers,
Andy
8.30.07

SUMMER'S EATING BEST

Before it's over, before we declare Summer 2007 a vintage … or decide that it really isn't … can you please re-cap your eating favorites of this season almost past?

Here are the 10 categories:

Favorite dish.
Favorite new restaurant.
Favorite place for a drink.
Favorite place for a spot of something sweet.
Favorite far-from-the-madding-crowd spot.
Favorite farmstand.
Favorite summer vegetable.
Favorite new recipe.
Favorite new wine/beer/spirit/drink.
Favorite guilty eating pleasure.

You can pick one category … or you can make selections for all 10. The idea is this: You will make and define the food trends of Summer 2007.

Cheers,
Andy
8.24.07

KID STUFF

It's almost lunchtime.

School-lunch time.

What are you packing in your child's lunchbox? And if you're not packing lunch, what is your child eating at school?

We've read about the ideal: Schools with gardens, some even with mini-farms, where kids as part of their curriculum tend plants and reap the rewards of their labors by enjoying their very own vegetables in school cafeterias. Is there a school in the area doing this planting-harvesting-lunching thing? If so, please speak up with specifics.

I hear regularly from parents concerned about their kid's lunch choices at school. But what I'd like to hear from you is what can be done about making lunchtime learning time.

Learning about eating good … i.e., real … food.

Ideas?

Cheers,
Andy
8.21.07

FUTURE FEEDINGS

I don't know about you, but when I'm stuck in traffic, I sometimes fantasize about what kind of food I wish I could find here at the Shore. (I also think how much nicer Mainers are to out-of-state motorists flailing about on roads up in 207-land than I am to visiting drivers down here. Every year when I'm Down East, I see Mainers at busy intersections waving ahead vacationers with Jersey, Pennsy and even New Yawk tags. Massachusetts' drivers, however, generally are not afforded the same kindly treatment. It's a long story.)

Anyway, here's a bit of a wish list, in no particular order.

I'd love to see a locally owned and operated artisan bakery. With real good bread. I'm not talking about shipped-in-bread from other ports, but hand-crafted bread. Hand-crafted HERE.

While we're baking, what about a true patisserie?

Charcuterie is probably the hottest commodity in the food world right now, with the best chefs doing their own and some even skipping out of the restaurant realm to make their own salumi on a full-time basis. Wouldn't it be dynamite to have a place that specialized in that genre, perhaps one also serving a little wine and, of course, some good cheese and, maybe, a spot of marinated vegetables?

You've heard me gush about Momofuku Noodle Bar and Momofuku Ssam Bar in New York, both owned by the brilliant chef David Chang. Well, I believe his talent is singular, but that doesn't mean we couldn't do with a true noodle house here or a place where Korean wrap sandwiches can be procured.

Taking that a step further, anyone who has experienced kimchi (a.k.a. kimchee) or any of the various bap (a.k.a. pap) rice-centric dishes in authentic Korean restaurants knows we need one here. Badly. You'll hanker for it like you crave sushi.

And how about an Indian restaurant that serves more than the standard-issue dishes? To those Indian restaurants that insist on continuing with only the common, why is it that the best tandoor-style chicken I've eaten in New Jersey was at a contemporary American restaurant on Long Beach Island? (Blue, in Surf City; reviewed Aug. 12).

Well, that's for starters. How about you? What do you wish for?

Cheers,
Andy
8.17.07

WHAT MAKES A PUB?

A few weeks back, a caller left me a message about pubs real and pubs fake, stating, with conviction backed by experience, that the places hereabouts calling themselves pubs really aren't pubs at all.

Pubs, particularly Irish pubs, are places of live music and intense conversation, he explained. Televisions are not the stuff of pubs. In fact, TV works against the soul and spirit of a pub. Can you really be engaged in conversation if you're engaged in a TV program?

My caller further noted that true Irish pubs sport low tables and low chairs … all the better, he posited, to allow pub patrons to lean over and talk to one another.

His words prompted me to ask folks what they thought of local "pubs"and if they were even fairly reasonable facsimiles of the quintessential publick house. Though names of certain taverns were mentioned, everyone I queried finally came to the conclusion that there's not a true pub in our midst. "We're a sports bar culture, not a conversation culture," one friend remarked.

So much for finding a bit of Dublin, world headquarters for conversation, here at the Jersey Shore. Suddenly, I found myself grabbing an old Peter McGarr mystery from a bookshelf. My favorite scenes in the series, set in Ireland and written by my old pal, the late Mark McGarrity (under the pseudonym Bartholomew Gill), always took place in pubs. Because that's where the conversation's the most interesting. (Martha Grimes' Richard Jury series, too.)

Pub, sports bar, neighborhood joint - what's what? And why? Is there a real-deal pub in these parts that I'm missing? If so, tell me about it.

Cheers,
Andy
8.14.07

"EATING" GETS A BLOG SITTER

A blog is a living thing and like all living things, it must be fed.

Especially a blog about food and spirits and eating.

So while I'm on vacation north by northeast, I'm entrusting the care and feeding of this blog to Press staff writer Shannon Mullen.

Here's why:

Shannon is my friend. We've been friends for 20 years.

I could stop there, because I think that's good reason enough, but there's more. Shannon used to write a microbrew column for the Press Food section. It was called, depending on the era, The Beer Keeper or Mug Shots. He knows a bunch about beer; I know nothing about beer. So those of you who have beer queries should take this chance to fire away.

He's also eaten out with me (Dining Companion, Eat Out) countless times and endured years of my own personal recipes/kitchen mishaps/failed experiments. He's also been forced through proximity of our desks to listen to me chat with a nonstop stream of food-centric folks over the years. So I figure he's got the stomach for the job of blog-sitting "Eating.''

I've left Shannon several posts and he'll file them periodically while I'm away. He'll also moderate your discussions and answer whatever questions he chooses. I think you'll like him.

cheers,
Andy
8.10.07
P.S. I'll talk to you on or about Aug. 29. Meanwhile, field food marshals, please keep me posted on what's happening on the farms and what's new on the restaurant scene.

THE HEAT'S ON

I love vacation but hate getting there.

I'm kind of overextended right now. (I liked the comment a few weeks ago about my farm-binging - the poster who said I was "okra-extended"; made me laugh then and every time I think of it, I laugh again.) Lots of cooking, eating, writing, interviewing, driving, driving, driving. Like what?

OK: This week, I've been doing lots and lots of soups meant to be served chilled. My favorites? Melon, made from super-ripe cantaloupe, spiked with mint and jalapeno and whirred till creamy in a food processor. A little dab of heavy cream? Maybe. Heirloom tomato, with many herbs, a shot of sherry vinegar, and tons of fresh lime juice. Again, time in the food processor. Gazpacho? Of sorts, I suppose.

I went out to Hallock's on the hottest, muggiest day of the year to do a story on the island crops grown out there. (Read all about it in the Press on the 15th.) Charlie Hallock took me on a 35 mph golf-cart ride around the farm. It was like riding shotgun in an open-air Jeep on a Montana highway; I held on for dear life and loved every minute of the wild ride. Sitting expansive in the middle of New Egypt, Hallock's appears on the horizon as our local Great Plains. But there are acres and acres of exotics - jute, bitterball, sour-sour, callaloo. More. We are very, very lucky to have such fertile farms in our midst.

Yesterday was Philly. (Yes, it was HOT, even as I left at 11 p.m.) I'm working on a story about restaurant eats there, which we're planning to run in early-early fall. I've been enamored and admiring of Philly's dining scene for a bunch of years now; been saying, too, that it's more exciting at this time in restaurant life than NYC. Dinner was at Vetri and it was THE BEST. Call today to make your rez for October (it's two months ahead, to the date, and last-minute table-seekers will be eating elsewhere.) The house-made charcuterie platter is worth the trip alone. My dining companions from last night already have weighed in this morning with their just-awake exclamations. When my pal Steve, who'd pronounced himself positively, absolutely, without a doubt sated, stuffed and full, started plowing into the desserts, I had to slap a hand over my mouth to stifle the giggles.

I have a lot of writing still to do, but save for tonight's feeding, my eating's done. I think we really will be able to leave at oh-dark-hundred Sunday for Maine.

But, I'll be in touch before then. And I won't be out of touch while I'm away, because I have a surprise for all you food-centric folks - a host for this blog while I'm away, someone who will post snippets and bits I've written and moderate conversations. Plus, he's got some thoughts of his own.

I'll tell you all about it before I leave.

BUT, meanwhile, can you tell me about your summer vacation? If you've already taken yours, what did you do? If it's still to come, what's planned? And, of course, tell me about vacation eating!

cheers,
Andy
8.9.07

PROWLING THE COUNTRYSIDE

Debbie Clayton tells me that one of the most frequently asked questions she gets from customers at her stand at Clayton Farm, Monmouth Road (Route 537) in Freehold Township, is something on the order of, “Where does your produce come from?”

Right here, the farmer says. To which I’ll be happy to add, On these acres right in front of you planted with rows and rows and more rows of extraordinary quality produce.

In fact, it’s simply not possible to miss Clayton Farm: The busy stand sits square in front of the farmhouse -- which sits squarely astride the Clayton’s fertile fields. What you’re buying is picked by Debbie and her husband Ross that day, save for the very few things the Claytons clearly mark as from another farm – say, peaches from friends down in South Jersey.

Thing is, people are just so used to their produce coming from points thousands of miles away that they assume all produce has seen air or boat or truck time. And that’s transit time, mind you, in which freshness, nutrients and overall quality is lost.

Today at Clayton Farm, I bought bursting-fresh heirloom tomatoes that I’ll use to make gazpacho and salad, cantaloupes I’ll puree to make a chilled melon soup scented with mint … and tomatillos, jalapenos and onions with their stems attached. Oh, yes, onions don’t fall from the sky in perfect circular balls; check out how onions really look seconds before harvest at Clayton Farm.

Now, I’m a confirmed farmstand junkie (if you know of a bumper sticker that says, I BRAKE FOR FARMSTANDS, please let me know so I can fair-warn everyone driving behind me) and there’s no Sunday drive I’d rather take than one tooling around our 500- and 600-series roads and checking out all the stands, little and big. Erma Bombeck once wrote that she never could resist a Girl Scout selling cookies, so she’d buy boxes and boxes from every girl who stopped at her house. I’m like that with produce and farmstands.

But please tell me all about your favorite farmstand. I really want to know. You see, if there’s one I’ve missed, I want to get there right away. At least before dinner tomorrow.

Cheers,
Andy
8.5.07

FREE TOMATO TASTING

I want to call your attention to a very, very important announcement posted in the comments section in my post below (My Monthly Wine Date).
It's not about wine, but about TOMATOES.
If you love tomatoes, if you are a pro chef or a home cook, if you are simply someone who eats his/her vegetables and fruits, please take a quick minute to read the announcement about the FREE TOMATO TASTING event planned for this coming Wednesday, Aug. 8.

Thanks!
Andy
8.4.07

MY MONTHLY WINE DATE

It happens once a month: I flip through my mail and find the folded-over, buff-colored little gem, an unflashy 8-page trip abroad to Kermit Lynch's world of wine.

It's the wine importer's monthly report and, in anyone else's hands (and words), it would be nothing more than a promotion of wines for sale. Instead, Kermit's dispatches and discourses are insightful and inspirational. For example:

"Monsieur Monier likes farming," Kermit writes about a vintner from the Rhone Valley. "He lives in humble splendor way up in the hills ... surrounded by cherry, apple and peach orchards; grapevines he farms biodynamically, birdies singing and bees a-buzzing. He is living the life of a 19th-century vigneron. Monier told me he has it figured out: he makes about three dollars an hour in his little winery. "But I am so happy," he said." His is an almost regal Saint Joseph, loaded with character and luscious, juicy syrah fruit."

I read this and 1) I wonder if Monsieur Monier would be willing to take on a vineyard worker with precious little experience, i.e., me, please; 2) I bow to Kermit for the sheer genius and beauty of the phrase "humble splendor," which describes a place like Monier's better than any two words in any language; and 3) I begin to plot obtaining this wine.

Of course, it's always complicated, given New Jersey's arcane and outdated (yes, folks, even with the "new" rules and regs) wine-shipping laws to score such bottles and there's far too little Kermit Lynch wine in our state. But I read and I fall in love with wine all over again.

Same time, every month.

If you're a person who enjoys a little inspired wine-reading, you should check out Kermit Lynch's wine web site. It's www.kermitlynch.com

Most of the wines he imports are from France, where he spends a good chunk of the year, it seems. When stateside, he works in Berkeley, California, where his shop is located (510. 524. 1524). Oh, here's the other cool thing about his little flier: Kermit always writes about these fetes he's staging - the next one planned is a celebration of rose at a restaurant called Cafe Rouge, in Berkeley.

Don't you want to be there?

OK, OK. We're here. And what are you doing this weekend? Meaning, what are you cooking up at home and where are you eating out?

FARMERS, RESTAURANT CHEFS: Please tell us what's being picked and what's on special this weekend. We're hungry!

cheers,
Andy
8.3.07

CRITIC'S CHOICE

It's not easy being the friend of a restaurant critic.

Not only do you get called upon to sit smiling through dinners that are less than enthralling or to be polite to servers who dump their dissatisfaction with their employers all over your dinner, but you don't even get to select what you want to eat. A professional critic will do his/her own picking from the menu, assigning dishes to guests and making it clear only a bite or two can be consumed before a plate must be passed to the person doing the evaluating -- i.e., the critic.

As if that's not rotten luck enough, a friend called last night to tell me of another hazard associated with restaurant critic friendship: the loss of ordering skills.

"I'm so used to you doing all the ordering," my pal said, "that when we went out with friends to dinner the other night, I practically forgot that I had to order."

"Use it or lose it," her husband added when I asked him about the lazy-eye-on-menu experience. "If you're not using your ordering skills, it's like an animal who doesn't use its tail --gradually, it disappears."

So used to my domineering ways with a menu my friend is, that she stumbled and couldn't work the menu. I felt pretty awful hearing her story. But not so awful that I failed to remind her of her next review date with me. She's too valuable a dining companion for me to lose.

cheers,
Andy
8.1.07