In fact my carrots were all by their lonesome harvestwise. Now, I can’t just snack on raw carrots like so many of my friends, thanks to my cross-reactions from birch pollen, which preclude me from enjoying raw bananas, pears, apples and celery as well. Peaches, plums, apricots, cherries, avocados and kiwifruit are straight out, cooked or no. Annoying, but I suppose I should just be happy that something as ubiquitous as wheat or soy is not on that list. Yet I digress, the point is that my oh-so-fugly carrots had to be prepared into a cooked dish that didn’t require much except what I had lying around the kitchen.

One thing I had in the fridge was a can of Vernor’s Ginger Ale, which a friend had tipped me off to the presence of in my local grocery store. The secret to finding America’s oldest surviving soft drink, which is near and dear to any true Michigander heart, is to look with the drink mixers, not the soft drinks. I guess people can be more particular about what goes into their rum n gingers than what their kids quaff at picnics? Dunno, but the barrel-aged, dry, mature flavor of a Vernor’s is something not to be missed.

I had seen Alton Brown make some kind of glazed carrot recipe with ginger ale a while back. Luckily, I had two cans left, so I could sacrifice one to the carrots. Once I got started down this path, I saw the Sriracha and decided to make this even more exciting…

Spicy Vernor’s Glazed Carrots

6 or 7 medium carrots, washed peeled and coarsely chopped
8 oz spinach, chopped
1 can Vernor’s Ginger Ale
1 tbs olive oil
1 tbs Sriracha Hot Sauce
1 tsp ground ginger (jarred)
1 tsp Garam Masala
a few dashes of salt

Sauté the carrots in olive oil, Sriracha, Garam Masala and salt in large skillet on medium high to high for about 3 min. Add Vernor’s, spinach and ginger. Stir and cover until simmering vigorously. Then reduce heat and remove lid, cooking and stirring occasionally until the sauce thickens to syrupy consistency. Took me about 7 more minutes. Easy peasy. Except no peas, but it would probably be great with those too…

Turnip Pancakes

1 large turnip, grated
1 small onion (or 1/2 medium one), grated
3 tbs flour
2 eggs
2 tbs salt
3 tbs oil

Use a big circular part of a bell grater on washed turnip and onion. Mix with salt in colander and let sit for at least 20 minute to draw out water.

Then press the water out of the turnips and onions using the biggest bowl that fits into the colander. You’ll probably have to then peel it off the bottom of the bowl. Repeat. It’s key to get as much water out as possible.

Beat flour and egg together. You can use the same bowl if its big enough to
fit everything. Then, mix in the turnips and onions one handful at a time, again squeezing out as much water as you can from each fistful. Mix together until texture is consistent. Should be like lumpy pancake batter.

Add 1 tbs oil to preheated frying pan on medium-medium high (gotta know yr equipment here). I use a lower heat and olive oil, but could be fun to try to get them crispier with a heavier oil and higher heat. Especially silver dollar style. Anyway, I ladled in 1/3 of the mixture into the pan. Then, checking the bottom to make sure it was firm and golden-brown, flipped the cake. If it doesn’t flip cleanly the first time, don’t worry, you can just squish it back into shape. Once both sides firm up, you can make a second or third flip until you are satisfied with the color. Put the crispy cake on a paper towel to draw off some oil. Add another tbs of oil to pan and repeat.

Add pepper and salt to taste. Has a certain sweetness that makes them great straight up. Also would be good with a variety of condiments, esp. sour cream, hoisin sauce, Sriracha, or (what I tried) Durham’s own Country Boy’s Hot Num Num Sauce.

So the green bean casserole (or ‘hot dish’ if yr from the other side of the lake than myself) is the dish that personifies the Midwestern holiday season for me. Nevertheless, I think traditions can be improved upon and the standard back-of-the-Campbell’s-soup-can recipe seemed like no fun. So I fancied it up by making the mushroom base from scratch, using shitakes and wine. However, I’m sticking to canned beans (it’s a hard consistency to recreate) and french fried onions (because . . . yuh-um!). Set this out at a potluck and watch the vegetarians descend like a flock of vultures to fight over the final scraps whilst everyone else is distracted by the glazed duck

Green Bean Casserole

3 tablespoons butter, melted
2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
4 tablespoons onion, diced
1 cup sour cream
8 oz cream cheese
1 large egg, blended
1 cup shitake mushrooms, chopped
1 large clove garlic, chopped
3 dashes red pepper flakes
1/2 cup white wine
4 (14.5 ounce) cans French style green beans, drained
2 cups shredded Cheddar cheese (10 oz)
1 cup french style fried onions.
paprika

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
Sautee mushrooms in butter in large skillet for 3 minutes on medium heat. Add onions and sautee unitl clear on medium heat. Stir flour into wine (room temp) until no lumps, add and simmer until reduced by half and starting to thicken. Puree salt, garlic, egg, pepper, sour cream, cream cheese and 1 cup of cheddar and in food processor. Transfer the mixture and beans to a large (9×12) casserole dish, homogenize. Bake for 20 min. Sprinkle with remainder of cheddar then fried onions. Dust lightly with paprika. Bake for another 20 minutes, until cheese just starts to brown on edges.

So, yr drunk in Eastown, GRap, Mich and the bar lights come up and you hear the bartender yell, “Time to go!”

After yr eyes adjust to the change in illumination, you look around and see that nobody has even moved to put on their coat. That’s because yr on bar time and its only 1:45, so you have fifteen minutes to finish that ultra-stiff scotch and soda you just ordered. You just barely manage that and are putting on yr coat when the ink-sleeved metalhead that checked yr ID on the way in yells “C’mon people, drink up!” and you stumble out the door into a arctic blast, barely dodging the black sludge thrown from the tire of passing car. Yuck, that was snow at some point…

So, yr not gonna drive home like this and yr kinda sick of the all night coffeehouse across the street and–shit–yr kinda hungry. Just then, a friend grabs yr shoulders and whispers in yr ear, “Yesterdog.” You want to weep it’s such a good idea…and an obvious one, since it’s right next to said coffeehouse.

I dunno if I can describe the genius that is yesterdog. Picture an old restaurant, ice cream parlor-like and covered floor to ceiling in vintage adverts, filled with drunkards yelling their hotdog orders to a ill-kempt young man who tallies them up by the dozen and yells to the cooks, all the while dodging a barrage of coinage the drunkards are throwing at a tip jar behind him even as he tells makes change without any digital aid. Imagine battling through a shoulder-to-shoulder crowd to get yr dogs first, cuz–jesus h. christ–you don’t want to get screwed if the order tally was wrong. Imagine getting stuffed with chili, relish, cheese, onions and 2 dogs at 2 am for three dollars. Imagine a 70 cent cup of soda pop to wash it down with. Imagine a mission statement that includes hangover prevention and prices that INCLUDE tax.

I hafta admit to falling off the freegetarian horse at this point. I guess this entry is a confession in that sense. But, dammit, sometimes life must be lived and ethical codes comprimised. I could’ve had the veggie, which has everything but the chili and the dog, but I couldn’t hold back. I was caught up in the moment and ordered two ultradogs.

Plus a veggie, just in case.

Also, I just found out that yesterdog can be my MySpace friend, which made me happy as a dollop of mustard rolling down a smoke-laden t-shirt…

Brine:
1/2 cup salt
1/2 cup sweet soy sauce
2 quarts water
Glaze:
1 can cranberry sauce
juice and finely grated peel of 1 clementine or blood orange
3/4 cup dry red wine
1/4 cup brown sugar
1 small clove garlic, crushed
1 tbsp balsamic vinegar
1 tsp brown mustard
2 tsp corn starch
2 tsp Vegeta
Dish:
1 bunch turnip greens
1 duck, 4-5 lbs

Brine Duck over night in food grade plastic container.

In a small bowl, combine 1 tsp salt and 1/2 tsp of pepper. Sprinkle it into the cavity and over the surface of the duck. Prick the duck all over with a fork, trying to break only the skin, not pierce the flesh. Stuff duck with root veggies, garlic and onions.

Make a simple steamer by placing a few ramekins in a dutch oven. Have ready a wire rack placed inside a roasting pan. Cook turnip greens in some of the drippings, use the rest to make gravy.

Place the duck, breast side up, in the steamer you’ve created. Pour about 1 inch of water into the pot, cover the pan tightly and steam over medium heat for 1 hour. The skin should be tender.

Stir starch into wine in sauce pan until no lumps, add orange, sugar, garlic. Bring to boil and reduce by half on simmer. Add remaining ingredients (other than greens and duck) and simmer until thickened.

Preheat oven to 400, roast duck ~45 mins, basting every 15 min with 2/3 of prepared glaze. Skin should be dark mahogany and thickest part of thigh should be 180 degrees. After removing, apply rest of glaze, cover with foil and let sit 10 min before carving.

Two perks to losing a chili cookoff this way: Any vegetarians in attendance love you. Several dedicated carnivores will say, “You’re kidding, there’s no meat in that?”

I think I find the latter more flattering. Even more flattering is when one of them votes for you, then reneges his vote because his wife has an entry as well. No need to cause marital strife; after all, it’s the thought that counts.

Really it’s much nicer with a garnish. And get your roomie to make cornbread and buy some Negro Modelo:

Chili Poblano Sin Carne

Uno:
1 pkg Smart Ground
1 1/2 cups chopped shitake mushrooms
1 large sweet onion, chopped
2 ts ground cumin
olive oil
1 cup dry red wine

Sautee the Smart Ground, mushrooms and onion for half a minute or so, then add the cumin. Keep adding olive oil as needed, the fake meat soaks it up pretty readily. Once the onions start to carmelize a little, reduce the heat and add the wine. Reduce slowly for half an hour or so.

Dos:
3 cans black beans, drained and rinsed
1 can crushed tomato (16 oz)
2 can tomato paste (6 oz)
2 red bell peppers, chopped
2 ts dry rosemary
1 tbs oregano leaves, chopped
4 cloves Garlic, minced
2 tbs Vegeta
1 tbs ground ancho
1/2 tab Abuelita
2 tbs olive oil

While reducing the wine, prepare the bulk of the chili in a large pot. Bring everything to a boil, then down to a simmer. Stir regularly, this is the easy part. I like to get a little violent with the beans at times to get some to split.

Tres:
1/4 ts Ground Nutmeg
1/3 ts Ground Cinnamon
1 ts Ginger, grated
2 can (8 oz) Chipotles in Adobo
1/2 tab Abuelita
1/2 cup raisins
1/2 cup peanuts
2 ts sweet soy sauce
1 tbs instant coffee
2 tbs mango juice

I recommend preparing this part in a separate sauce pan until you learn to gauge the desired spice level. Simply puree everything in a food processor, bring to a boil and simmer for 10-15 min. You can always add this simple mole to other items later (enchiladas anyone?) if you don’t use it all. You can also add extra to the servings of any spice freaks in attendance.

When everything is done, just mix together and simmer until you think its ready. I like to wait half an hour or so for everything to thicken a bit, but really that’s personal taste.

Adorno:
Heirloom tomatoes, chopped
chopped cilantro
grated queso fresco

Supply for people to garnish their dishes with. Unless, of course, the event organizers ban such a thing, in which case you should give them what for…

The other thing is to match herbs to whatever else you are growing. Basil and oregano are musts if you are growing good tomatoes for bruschetta, for example. What I didn’t plant this year was dill to go along with the cucumber vine in my garden. I’ll give myself a pass on this one, as I already mentioned that the vine was an orphan we took under our wing. I learned my lesson, either cut the cuke or grow the dill next year. Mebbe ‘cut the cuke or grow the dill’ would make a nice non-sequitur to interject into future conversations. I’ll pass it off as a folksy aphorism from a great aunt or something….

Cucumber-Dill soup (serves ~6)

1 large Japanese cucumber (or two medium English ones)
1/2 cup fresh dill
16 oz Greek Strained yogurt (I use skim or 2%, but if you want the fat, go for it)
1 cup half and half (or whole milk)
1/2 medium sweet onion, peeled
1 tsp Worcester sauce
1 tsp Balsamic vinegar
1 tbsp lemon juice
1/4 tsp black pepper (4-6 dashes from the grinder)
a couple dashes of Valentina’s hot sauce

Destem the dill and chop cucumber, reserving a few nice slices and sprigs for garnishes (my regret about the pic above). Chop onion. Add everything to a blender or food processor or bowl if you are using an immersion blender. Puree. Garnish. Serve as an appetizer or light lunch with toast. Simple.

I think everyone’s taste will vary, so I’d play around with the Worcester/vinegar/lemon juice ratio the first time until it is right for you. Just add half of what is above and add the rest to taste.

BTW, if you end up blowing two bucks on fresh dill like I did, the temptation will be to use more dill. Don’t. Overwhelming dill is not pleasant to most palates. If you like, cut the half and half, double the yogurt and dill, mebbe add a little garlic and you got yourself a chip or crudites dip…not that I’ve tried it, but sounds like it’ll work.

Pesthai Tofu with Broccoli and Carrots

4 cups fresh basil leaves, packed
2 cans coconut milk
3/4 cup unsalted peanuts
3 tbsp green curry paste
Hot chiles (start with one or two, add more to taste)
1 large ginger root
1 package extra firm tofu
3 heads broccoli (1 bunch)
2 large carrots, sliced
1 package wide rice noodles (such as bahn pho), prepared according to package

First make a ginger reduction: clean, peel and chop ginger root into large pieces. Put 2 cups of water in a saucepan, cover and boil ginger for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. You should have a strong ginger tea at this point. Simmer with the cover off until the volume is reduced to at least half. At this point, it should be so strong that only a masochist would want it as tea.

Put basil, 1/4 cup of peanuts, 1 can of coconut milk, ginger reduction, chiles and curry paste into a blender/food processor and puree. If you need more moisture, you can add more coconut milk from the second can. I’d make a double serving like this, leave it as paste and freeze the extra to add more coconut milk later. If you want single servings, you can use an ice cube tray. If you want a stronger ginger flavor after trying the recipe a few times, you can always add any ginger pieces that can be easily cut with a knife. If you are leaving it as a paste to be mixed, make it considerably spicier than the final desired sauce. Coconut milk kills spice better than just about anything.

I started the tofu while Colin started the pesthai. Actually, Colin started the pesthai at his house, a transformer blew outside, then we packed everything up and moved to the birthday girl’s house, where we continued. I started the tofu there. After years of pan frying tofu, I think I’ve finally figured it out. The problem most people have is either cutting it the wrong size or not cooking it long enough. I’m not a fan of cubes unless you are deep frying, which is something I tend to avoid. Oh, its also really important to press out the moisture as well. Colin covered it with cheesecloth and set the collected works of Marx for about 10 minutes. That seemed to work well. I slice tofu into planks the length of the block about a half inch thick. Then I fry in 1/4″ of oil at either medium in olive oil (more wholesome, takes longer) or med-high in peanut oil (quicker, tastier, a little more saturated fat). I personally don’t often use canola oil, never liked the flavor or smell of it, although it has less saturated fats than either the above alternatives. All of this health talk is maybe a moot point in a recipe that has up to two cans of coconut milk, so I’ll cease the digression there. At any rate, I recommend flipping the tofu planks three times total, shifting the inside ones to the outside each time. This can take 15+ minutes at medium heat, so be patient. Trust me, the texture is worth it. I take them off when they are going from golden to light brown. They’ll keep cooking and get a little darker after you set them on a plate covered with paper towel.

While you are waiting betwixt flips of tofu, steam the broccoli to just on the crispy side of your desired softness and sautee the carrots in a large pot. I prefer to sautee them until they get pretty soft and sweet, which can take as long as the tofu. I’d then gently mix the noodles and broccoli with the pesthai and more coconut milk until the sauce spreads, but is still pretty spicy and thick. You can make the noodles in the pot you used to steam the broccoli, which is usually really quick.

I like to serve this dish layered, with the noodles on bottom tofu planks on top and–what the heck–save a couple nice looking basil leaves for garnish. Then wait for accolades from your friends, vegan or no. Or maybe they’ll just tell you to stop playing with the food before it gets cold…but maybe your friends are less cheeky than mine…

So, I’ve developed a fondness for the meek little radish. It is as dependable as a loyal pup if you treat it right. The main thing about growing radishes is to keep their conditions steady. Well watered and partly shaded, you can go from seed to radish in less than four weeks. You can grow them April through October or even longer in Bull City. I’ve kept a steady supply coming out of one pot all spring and summer from one 99 cent package of seeds.

The rub is this: What do you do with just a few radishes? Sure, you can put them in salads, but that’s too obvious for me. I poked around and found that radish greens are edible, if a bit hairy and rough on the palate. So, I figured I’d saute them like any harsh green. I messed around with a few recipes and decided the way to go is as a side dish to an Asian-style meal.

Simply dice 3-4 radishes and saute in olive oil in a preheated pan (med-high) for 60 seconds, then turn of the heat. Add the radish greens, coarsely chopped, and a handful of baby spinach (or any mild-tasting greens) and sauce, stir, cover until the greens wilt, stir again for 30 seconds or so and you’re done. The whole thing takes only 2 or 3 minutes. I make a sauce from sweet Indonesian soy sauce (the kind that pours like molasses), black bean paste, rice wine (or cooking sherry as a substitute) sesame oil and Sriracha chile-garlic sauce. You can make it more complicated, onion or chopped garlic can be nice additions, but I like to keep it easy.

It seems that El Compadre Factory has recently changed ownership and name. Formerly, as Chino Latino, it had dancing on some nights. The booths still hug the walls and there is one of those multicolored disco ball lights hanging from the ceiling. The road sign outside made it unclear whether or not there is still dancing on the weekends (as well as the name of the place).

Before I get to the food, I would like to share the highlight of my visit. The typo on the sign by the entrance. It really made the trip out down 70 to East Holloway worth it.

The food is pretty standard taqueria fare: generous portions, low prices and an impressive variety of options that lead to some serious wikipedia-ing afterwards. I now know that ‘cecina’ is a type of salted dried beef, ‘longaniza’ is a pork sausage similar to chorizo but differently seasoned and ‘pambazo’ is a Mexican hot sandwich dipped in guajillo pepper sauce. All things I need to try if I return. I took a photo of the menu for future study. This trip, I chose the torta cubana and my companion selected a taco al pastor and a carne asada huerache. The torta cubana ($6) featured a nice crusty roll filled with chicken, carne asada and a hot dog topped with lettuce, avocado and tomato. While I initially raised an eyebrow at the hot dog, the overall sandwich experience was quite nice, especially when I added the grilled green onion garnish, some of the house red hot sauce (I believe a chile de arbol) and a squeeze of lime. Munching on some the radishes between bites, it made for a filling meal.

The huarache (which my companion pointed out translates to ‘sandal’) consisted of a thick, oblong corn tortilla, probably made in house, topped with refried beans, carne asada, and cheese, drizzled with fresh crema. I enjoyed it topped with some pico de gallo (which may have been intended for the taco), though it was a bit difficult not to slice the wax paper beneath it into each bite. Definitely a lot of food for 3 bucks. The taco al pastor was probably the best item we tried, though it didn’t have any pineapple. It was seasoned very well, but I couldn’t resist adding a bit of the salsa verde to it for a bit of that tomatillo citrusy zing.

Overall, a decent cheap eat find with a lot of room for exploration. I think I’ll stop by next time I’m in the area, try a pambazo and make sure the beast sign is still there. I take solace in little confirmations of the universe’s bad sense of humor.