What to do with a mess of cowpeas...

My 'Mississippi Silver' cowpeas have kicked into full production. They love all the heat and humidity you give them, but they're also very drought-hardy.

Though advertised as a bush bean (Southern Exposure Seed Exchange), they'll vine when given the chance, and produce a bit more heavily. I grow them around the border of my garden, with sticks and bamboo stakes. The trick, I think, to harvesting them is to leave them until the individual peas are clearly defined and the hulls go every so slightly yellow--the peas are still green, and they slide out of the hull without a problem.

At the end of the season, I pick the last round to dry and use next year, and mow them down as green manure.

Here's the dish I made tonight, based roughly on a recipe from Ronni Lundy's excellent southern cuisine cookbook, From Butterbeans to Blackberries:

In a large kettle, cook two cups cowpeas until tender--about five minutes in heavily salted boiling water ought to do it. If you have a couple handfuls of young cowpeas (shell and all), pole beans, or yard-long beans handy, toss them in during the last minute or two.

Scoop the beans out with a slotted spoon, and toss in a half a pound of elbow macaroni. Cook until al dente, drain, and toss with a tablespoon of olive oil. Set all of this aside to cool.

Meanwhile, chop finely one large scallion and one rib of celery. (You could also use a sweet Italian pepper here, but not a green bell pepper, which even animals won't eat...)

Roast a large green tomato over an open flame on the end of a fork (as Luny puts it, like a marshmallow over a campfire), or broil/grill it until it's softened a bit and the skin is all black. (Failing either of these, a cast iron skillet over medium heat works, too.) When the tomato has cooled, peel it, but don't worry if there's still some charred skin. Chuck it in a blender, along with 1/4 cup olive oil, 1/2 cup plain yogurt (I prefer full fat), one medium garlic clove, and a heft amount of salt (at least a two teaspoons, but you go with your own preferences). Blend at high speed until very smooth.

Mix the yogurt dressing, the scallion and celery, and elbow mac and cowpeas together in a large bowl, and combine well. Taste, and add salt and pepper as needed. If things aren't zippy enough, consider a shot of red wine vinegar.

Eat at room temperature with a big plate of cornbread and a glass of bourbon. (I'm from Kentucky...)

Really satisfying and easy vegetarian cooking. But I imagine it would complement some barbecued ribs, too.

Who knew? Banana flowers are edible...

I have a bunch (hah!) of bananas in bloom... The "male" flower (can a parthenogenic plant have a male and female flower?) at the tip is apparently edible.

The deep purplish-crimson-coloured banana flower is used as a vegetable from Sri Lanka to Laos. The flower is borne at the end of the stem. Long, slender, sterile male flowers with a faint sweet fragrance are lined up in tidy rows and protected by large reddish bracts. Higher up the stem are groups of female flowers which develop into fruit without fertilisation.

In Thailand, slices of tender banana flower are eaten raw with the pungent dip known as nam prik, or with fried noodles, or simmered in a hot sour soup with chicken, galangal and coconut milk.

The Banana Blossom Guinatan recipe -- banana flowers cooked in a coconut sauce -- sounds delish.

Papelon con Limon

My Brazilian friend grows limão 'Cravo,' selling them at an amazing price of $2 a dozen. They produce copious amounts of mildly-acidic, vaguely lime-y juice. The flavor is somewhere on the tart end of a lemon-lime-orange. While I have trouble getting more than a tablespoon of juice from a lemon, the slightly larger limão 'Cravo' will easily yield a third to a quarter cup. VERY juicy.

I ran across a mention of this popular Venezuelan drink, and found this recipe. (Papelon is, I gather, the same as piloncillo, available everywhere Mexican food is sold.) Since I have no idea how much a panela weighs, I'm going to work by logic here: I use a cup of sugar to make a bit more than a quart of lemonade, let's work on the assumption that eight ounces of piloncillo will sweeten this drink.

Papelon con Limon: "Papelon con Limon"
Ingredientes;
1 panela de papelón
1 litro de leche
2 limones

Preparacion: Se rompe el papelón a martillazos. Se pone a remojar toda una noche en 1 litro de leche. Al dia siguiente, que ya se ha disuelto, se le agrega el jugo de limón. se sirve frío.

Ingredients:
8 oz of piloncillo
1 quart of milk
Juice of 2 limão 'Cravo,'

Crush the piloncillo, and let it dissolve into a quart of milk overnight. (I'd help the process along the way with a whirl in the blender.) The next day, once the piloncillo has dissolved, add to the mix the lemon juice. Serve cold.

Going to try it tonight!

Tonight: Hmmmm. Hm. Um. Hmmm... Here's what I have to say about it. It is unlike anything I've ever had. Molasses, citrus, and milk. It's not bad. Refreshing in its own way. Very South American. Smooth.

I would add far more lemon juice than advertised in the recipe above: I used two tablespoons in my smallish glass, and felt that citrus could have played an even stronger role. Maybe I'd try it with Sugar in the Raw rather than piloncillo. I like molasses, but the bitter punch of it does not fare well with the acid from the lemons.

I need to try this with rum...

Crowder Succotash

Kind of a bummer day. I was stuck at home with my sick daughter. We both had head colds, mine came with an ear-ache. (God, when was the last time I had an ear-ache? When I was six?). It was hot and humid this morning, then it poured rain all afternoon (more than an inch and counting). We managed to plant some beets, peas and lettuce before the deluge commenced. Oh, I also mowed under some crowder peas, but not before I harvested a few gallons, along with okra and peppers ('Pimientos de Padron'). So, tonight I made a sort of succotash, and served it over mashed sweet potatoes. Very tasty -- more than made up for the wasted day.

Crowder Pea Succotash
- a few rashers (4-6 oz.) of smoked bacon, diced medium
- 2 pounds of sweet potatoes (preferably the white "Japanese" ones), peeled and diced in 1" chunks
- 2 medium onions, diced
- a couple of spicy red peppers, sliced into 1/4" rounds
- a few handfuls of okra, sliced medium
- 3 cups of shelled crowders, with some young beans broken into 1-inch pieces*
- 2 cups of corn (fresh or frozen)
- a can (28 oz.) of tomatoes (I really like Muir Glenn's fire-roasted diced tomatoes)
-"sweet" fresh herbs (like parsley, basil, chives), chopped fine
- salt (I like really flaky sea salt) and freshly ground place pepper, to taste (lots!)

*(or substitue canned black-eyed peas)

In a large cast-iron skillet that you can cover, slowly fry the bacon until crispy. Meanwhile, in a medium sauce pan, boil the sweet potatoes in salted water until tender. Mash the sweet potatoes, and season to taste with salt, pepper, warm milk, and butter (and we add goat cheese, which binds the potatoes nicely).

When the bacon has crisped, remove it, leaving behind the drippings. Over medium heat, slowly fry onions until they color. Chuck in the pepper, okra, peas, corn and cook slowly for a few minutes.

When everything has softened a bit, dump in the tomatoes, raise the heat, and bring to a merry simmer. Clap the top on, lower the heat to low, and let cook until the okra (in particular) has softened. Serve the succotash over the mashed sweet potatoes, with chopped herbs & reserved bacon sprinkled on top.

Mmmmmm.....

Papalo salsa

OK, I've been won over. I really liked this salsa cruda, my translation of this recipe. It was an excellent way to use up some green tomatoes, and had a nice complexity.

SALSA AL PAPALOQUELITE

Under a broiler or on a hot, dry skillet, roast four garlic cloves (in their jackets) and two to four cuaresmeños chilies (cuaresmeños peppers are a kind of large jalapeños -- I used two of my very hot Italian Roasting Peppers, from TGS). The garlic skin should just color on all sides before removing; the peppers should be nicely browned and blistered all over. When cool, peel the peppers and remove the veins and seeds. (Now, go wash your hands, and don't touch ANYONE for at least a few hours!) Peel the garlic.

Chuck the peppers and garlic in a blender or food processor, along with six leaves of papalo, half a pound of hard green tomatoes, the juice from half a small lemon, a splash of olive oil, and salt to taste (about 2 tsp). Whiz it until just smooth. Taste for salt and acid. Right before serving, add some thin slivers of white onion (or scallion whites) that you've rinsed in plenty of cold water.

We served this salsa mounded in fried masa boats, sprinkled with goat cheese and, piled high on top, fresh garden cress and purple basil from the garden. It was a great summer dish!

Detailed information on Papalo, Papaloquelite Porophyllum ruderale subsp. macrocephalum

Detailed information on Papalo, Papaloquelite Porophyllum ruderale subsp. macrocephalum: "Papalo, Papaloquelite, Porophyllum ruderale subsp. macrocephalum"

My gardening conspirator Bill gave me seeds for this plant, which goes under various names, and is the same species as Bolivian Coriander, though this is the macorcephalum (big-headed) subspecies. Bill (who is culinarily pretty adventurous) hated it, and yanked the plants out of his garden.

I'm still trying to decide whether I like it: the flavor is very strong, much stronger than cilantro, with a bit of arugula on the finish. Lots of herbal notes, maybe a bit of citrus, too. Complex, in any case. I found this description in French that sums it up pretty well:

Une plante utilisée au Mexique à l'instar de la coriandre pour ses feuilles aromatiques. Odeur forte, ultra fraîche et musquée, qui rappele vaguement la coriandre mais aussi l'ozone. Saveur très concentrée: un petit morceau de quelques mm suffit pour assaisonner une salsa. À utiliser comme la coriandre. Grande plante à feuilles arrondies de couleur vert bleuâtre. Environ 1,50 m de hauteur. Soleil, mi-ombre.

We had it tonight on beans and rice, and I thought it played out nicely against the earthiness. I can see how it'd be really good with tomatoes and hot peppers, too.

The seeds reminded me a lot of zinnia seeds. I planted six seeds, but only had one of them germinate. I think this had to do with my lack of familiarity with the seeds: Like zins, there were a lot of husks that probably didn't contain seeds.

Mine is in a gallon pot. It yawns at full sun, low water -- conditions that spell IMMEDIATE DEATH to cilantro.

I'm going to try this recipe soon, since I have plenty of hot peppers and green tomatoes & papalo:

Ingredientes:

2 chiles cuaresmeños asados y desvenados
2 chiles cascabel o morita asados y desvenados
1/4 kg. de tomates verdes chicos, crudos
4 dientes de ajo asados
6 hojas de pápalo (se puede usar 2 cucharadas de hojas de albahaca, perejil, cilantro o epazote);
1/2 cucharadita de jugo de limón
1 cucharadita de aceite
sal gruesa
2 cucharadas de cebolla picada fina

Procedimiento:

Se muelen la sal, los chiles, el ajo, el pápalo, los tomates; se añaden el limón y el aceite. Al final, se agrega la cebolla picada.

NOTA: Si se muele en licuadora se pone a baja velocidad para que quede con textura y no líquida.

Eggplant feast

We had some good friends over this weekend to help out with our eggplant overproduction problems... Both my 'Black Beauty' and 'Little Fingers' plants are producing loads of eggplants, which might be my favorite veg. I put together a sort of south-eastern Mediterranean feast, with Macedonian, Greek, and Turkish and Georgian foods. (Yes, I know Georgia isn't geographically linked to the Mediterranean, but culinarily and culturally there is a great deal of affinity, as Paula Wolfert argues in her book, The Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean.) The premise was that the veg all be from the garden and that everything was to be served room temperature -- perfect for a hot Florida evening. I used my leaf celery for the first time. Delish. The plant seems to really appreciate a lot of shade, and doesn't grow very quickly. But the leaves have a very potent and clean celery flavor.

From Wolfert's Cooking of the Eastern Mediterranean, an excellent cookbook that explores a totally and unjustly disregarded region of the world.

EGGPLANTS STUFFED WITH WALNUTS

Not many vegetables taste better than eggplant tried in olive oil. The Georgians have a special frying method that eliminates greasiness without sacrificing taste. They split baby eggplants down the middle, then slip them, flesh side down, into a well-seasoned skillet (I use a non—stick skillet) with a small amount of oil. The skillet is covered so that the eggplants fry and steam at the same time.

Serves 6

• 12 baby eggplants or 6 Japanese eggplants (about 2 pounds total weight), halved lengthwise
• 1 ¾ teaspoons fine sea salt

FILLING:

• 2 cups (7 ounces) walnuts
• 1 clove garlic, peeled and finely chopped
• 1/2 teaspoon hot Hungarian paprika or more to taste ¼ teaspoon
• ground marigold petals or ground turmeric
• 1/3 cup chopped celery leaves
• 1/4 cup shredded basil leaves
• 1/4 cup chopped coriander leaves
• ¼ minced red onion
• 2 tablespoons mild vinegar, preferably rice wine vinegar
• ¼ cup pomegranate seeds, plus more for garnish
• 2 tablespoons olive oil
• Flat-leaf parsley for garnish

1. Sprinkle the cut sides of the eggplants with 1 teaspoon of the salt and place cut side down, on paper toweling. Weigh down with plates 20 minutes. Rinse the eggplants under running water and then gently squeeze out the moisture; pal dry with paper towels.
2. Meanwhile, in a processor, combine the walnuts with the garlic, paprika. marigold petals, and the remaining teaspoon of the salt. Puree until an oily paste forms. Add cup water and process to blend. Transfer the paste to a medium bowl and stir in the celery, basil, coriander, onion, and vinegar. Fold in he pomegranate seeds. Cover and set aside.
3. In a the non—stick skillet, heat the olive oil over moderately low heat. Add all the eggplants cut side down. Cover tightly and cook until the flesh is golden brown and the eggplants are very tender, about 15 minutes. Transfer to paper towels to drain. (If the skillet is not large enough, you will have to cook the eggplants in batches.
4. With your fingers, press open the middle of the cut side of each eggplant. Mound the walnut ffilling into each eggplant half and serve warm or at room temperature. Gardnish with parsley and pomegranate seeds.

Panzanella

Another from-the-garden recipe. I'm totally overwhelmed by the number of cherry & currant tomatoes that are ripening now.

My wife is a first-rate baker. She uses the levain method: no yeast, just naturally-occurring bacilli and yeasts. Florida's got some of those. She bakes at least three times a week -- huge, two-pound loaves. We eat it with every meal. Her bread is dense, pocketed with fissures and holes, wheaty, slightly acidic without being sour. The crust is thick, crispy, and golden. We've lived for long periods in Europe, in the heartland of good bread, and hers would stand toe-to-toe with any bread I've ever eaten.

Here's what I did with it...

Panzanella
This will serve two for a main dish or four as a salad. The point is to create a gustatory party of colors, textures, flavors and smells.

• a few handfuls of cherry/currant tomatoes, or a couple of large tomatoes. I like to use a mix of cherries (Sun Gold, Yellow Currant, Matt's Wild). If you're using small tomatoes, just squeeze them by the handful -- careful of the mess. Or dice the large tomatoes medium.
• lots of scallions, preferably red ones (for the color). tops and bottoms chopped roughly
• tomato-friendly herbs: mint, basil, oregano and parsley. A few handfuls of each, though let the parsley predominate.
• a few cucumbers or sweet peppers, chopped roughly (a little something crunchy)
  
• 1/2 c. flavorful olive oil (bring out the good stuff)
• 3-4 tbsp. of red wine vinegar
• salt (I like flake sea salt) and pepper (coarsely ground)
• 1 pound peasant bread, ideally a little stale, torn into 1 inch chunks
  

Mix the tomatoes, scallions, herbs, cukes, peppers, oil & vinegar in a large salad bowl. Let them sit and marry for a while. About fifteen minutes before you're ready to eat, chuck the bread into the bowl and toss it all very well. Serve, with copious amounts of cheap but excellent wine.