I know that you are expecting to talk about roasting a pig, but some things demand immediate attention.  It’s strawberry season!

That’s right farmer’s markets are back.

Need a refresher on how the Boar feels about farmer’s markets?  Click here, here, and here.

For the Boar the highlight of early season markets are the fresh juicy strawberries.  And the time to enjoy them is right now!  They won’t last long.

I purchased these from Bob Barnhill of Barnhill Orchids at the Bernice Garden Farmer’s Market on South Main Street.

If you can avoid eating them all from the carton, dip your snout into this refreshing seasonal soup:

chilled strawberry soup garnished with mascarpone cheese served in a new acquisition dish from Mother of Boar

Chilled Strawberry Soup

3 Quarts of fresh strawberries (hulled and sliced)
Juice of 1 tangerine (or other orange citrus fruit)
Juice of 1 lemon
3 teaspoons of sugar
3 teaspoons of honey (try a local variety)

1/3 cup of maple water (or almond water)
1 teaspoon of vanilla extract
Mascarpone cheese (for garnishment)

In a blender puree all the ingredients (except the mascarpone cheese).

Allow to chill for at least an hour.  Top with the mascarpone cheese, garnish with a ripe strawberry and serve.

Strawberry season merits your sweet attention, my friend.

Spinach and cheese stuffed manicotti in alfredo sauce served with spinach salad and basil pesto crostino

It’s that time of year again where we need soothing, indulgent, comfort food.  In previous posts we have discussed the spontaneous indulgent comfort and broth aromatherapy.  Now, Daughter-of-Boar joins me in the kitchen to create her version of indulgent comfort, featuring: crepes, cheese, and cream —more of a luxurious comfort, my friend.

Spinach and Cheese Stuffed Manicotti in Alfredo Sauce

Ingredients:

Crepes
Eggs (6)
All Purpose Flour (2 cups)
Kosher Salt (pinch)
Milk (1 cup)
Water (1 cup)
Butter (for greasing pan)

Filling
Ricotta Cheese (15 oz)
Parmigiano-Reggiano Cheese (about half a cup, grated)
Fresh Baby Spinach (about two cups, chopped)
Italian Parsley (about a cup)
Two Eggs
Kosher Salt (a pinch)
Black Pepper (to taste)
Nutmeg (to taste)

Prepared Cream Sauce (like Alfredo)

Plan:

I have always thought that manicotti was a pasta dish, but in helping Daughter-of-Boar prepare for this creation, I learned that traditional manicotti is made with small crepes.  And believe me preparing these homemade crepes is worth the effort as they are far superior to the dry tube-shaped pasta labeled (albeit erroneously) “manicotti.”

To make the crepes whisk the eggs, salt, and flour together until it forms a paste (don’t use anything fancy like a mixer as it will add too much volume).  Whisk in the milk and water forming a thin, smooth batter (much thinner than a pancake batter and without the lumps).

Heat a nonstick pan over low heat (we used an omelette pan but a slightly larger pan might be better).  Grease the pan with butter.  Using a small ladle (or tablespoon) add about a quarter of a cup of batter to the pan.

Be sure to spread the batter out evenly in the pan (you can use the back of your ladle or swirl it in the pan).  The crepes should be very thin (we will likely make ours a bit thinner next time by either using a slightly larger pan or less batter).

Just as the crepe begins to set, flip it over (this will take around 20 seconds).  Cook on the other side for 10 to 15 seconds and set aside.  Repeat for as many crepes as you need.

For the filling, blanch the spinach in salt water for about three minutes.  Immediately, plunge the spinach into an ice bath to stop the cooking.  Chop it roughly.

Mix all of the filling ingredients thoroughly until everything is well incorporated.

To assemble the manicotti, spoon about two tablespoons of filling on the crepe as shown in the picture.

Now, roll the manicotti.

Pour a small amount of sauce in the bottom of a baking dish.  Place the assembled manicotti in the dish, seam side down.

Cover the manicotti in sauce and freshly grated Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and bake for around 30 minutes or until the cheese melts and begins to bubble.

Serve with a fresh salad, crusty bread with pesto, and a nice wine.

Enjoy a bit of luxurious comfort courtesy of Daughter-of-Boar, my friend.

coal-fired ribeye steaks with garlic pan-fried potatoes and sautéed onion and green peppers

Small hunting and fishing parties bring out the experimental side of the Convivial Boar.  And for years now, I’ve been hearing about a method of grilling steaks directly on the coals.

Finally, an opportunity presented.

While perhaps not the first to sear a hunk of meat directly on coals, President Eisenhower seems to be the most famous practitioner of this method.  Accounts hold that Ike would coax “oohs and ahhs” from his guests by showing them the massive, marbled cuts of prime meat seasoned and ready for cooking.   Then he would douse their enthusiasm by dramatically throwing the delectable cuts of meat into the fire (not really fire, hot coals —for a refresher on feast-making fires, click here)—eliciting heartfelt groans and disbelief.

I know just the type that Ike was dealing with, for when I announced to my teenage son that we were going to cook our thick-cut, bone-in ribeye steaks directly on the glowing coals, he recoiled. “Dad, I know you like to do some crazy stuff with our food, but I’m pretty hungry, and we paid quite a bit for those steaks.”  As the Convivial Boar, you would think I would have a little food credibility at this point —not so.  Luckily, once a notion like this gets in my noodle, I’m immune from dissuasion.

For this adventure, I opted for a small kettle style grill —for those of you keeping score, this is the companion grill referenced in “The Boar goes a-fishing and packs a lunch…”  (Now, I can rest easy, knowing that I put both of my bargains to good use–in just over a decade).

A charcoal chimney is important for this plan because we need the coals uniformly glowing.  And this should only be done with lump charcoal —no processed briquettes as they have too much chemical residue —remember our meat is going to be touching the coals.  No lighter fluid!

As you will recall from our earlier post “Gnaw-Worthy Steaks,” I believe in quality meat with simple seasoning.  For this preparation, I omitted the olive oil and went with a heavy coating of kosher salt and black pepper.

Once the fire is glowing hot in the chimney spread the coals out on the bottom grate of the grill.  Level the coals as much as possible and allow them to keep burning until they all are glowing orange and white.  Just before I placed the steaks on the coals, I blew on the coals to remove any loose particles (I read that some people use a hair dryer for this step).

Now, for the big moment: nestle the steaks down on top of the coals.

The big idea of this preparation is that it caramelizes the surface of the steak forming a seasoned, flavorful crust without overcooking the center.  To accomplish the crust, each side will need at least three or four minutes on the coals.

As you remove the steaks from the coals use a paper towel or kitchen brush to dust off any ash or wood particles.

Our steaks were an inch-and-a-quarter in thick, and four minutes per side resulted in a perfect rare.  Because my feasting companions desired them more done, I finished them for about three more minutes per side on a rack above the coals for a medium.  You could also just leave them in the coals a bit longer.

As always, allow the steaks to sit a spell and rest before serving.

We paired our Ike-like steaks with sautéed garlic potatoes, onions and green-peppers prepared on our disk pan.  For the story of this pan click here.

Upon the first juicy bite, our doubting feaster, much like I suspect Ike’s guests were, was won over declaring “this is the best steak, I have ever eaten.”  And the Convivial Boar agrees.  Not only will I be charring steaks in the fire for feasts to come, I plan to expand to other meats —pork chops—maybe even a whole roast.

Into the fire, my friend.

Amidst the hustle-and-bustle of the Christmas festivities, the Boar pauses and daydreams of the post-frenzy slow down.  Allow me to set the scene…

As you leisurely stroll through your local produce market, the lights dim.  The deep, sensual voice of Barry White focuses your passion.  And then as you turn to the next aisle, you glimpse these curvaceous, voluptuous creatures…

Overcome with a blushing energy, you turn away just in time to catch these bulbous temptresses —disrobed…

Nothing like the romance of root vegetables, my friend —except maybe embracing them to create a storied stew from the Southwest region of France.

Garbure topped with Gruyere Crustini

As you know from last Christmas, the left over hambone is to be treasured.  (Click here for reminder).  And while traditional Garbure is made with smoked ham hock, for our after Christmas Garbure, I suggest substituting your hambone —as you will see from the pictures, mine was a peppered ham.

Garbure is a thick, vegetable-rich stew.  The ingredients are varied but the mainstays are ham, white beans, root vegetables, and cabbage (I left cabbage out because I made the mistake of mentioning it to Wife-of-Boar and she turned up the nose —I omitted it and did not speak of any other ingredients).  Like many soups and stews, Garbure is not bound by a rigid list of ingredients or portions of each.

Here is the story of my Garbure:

Ingredients:

Applewood smoked bacon (8 slices, diced)
Olive oil (enough to cover bottom of pot)
Leeks (I used an entire bunch of four —just the white and pale green portions, roughly chopped into half moons)
Sweet onions (3, roughly chopped)
Celery (4 stalks, roughly chopped)
Head of garlic (chopped)
Carrots (6, chopped into have moons)
Parsnips (6, chopped into bite size pieces)
Turnips (2, chopped into bite size pieces)
White Beans (I used Lima, but any dry white bean will work. I soaked mine overnight before making the stew)
Small red potatoes (cut in half, I added about ten)
Chicken broth (enough to cover vegetables, if needed add water)
Hambone (or ham hock)
Fresh rosemary and thyme (tied together to form a bouquet)
Kosher salt
Black Pepper
French Baguette (sliced into rounds)
Gruyere cheese (sliced thinly to fit on rounds of french bread)

Plan:

Using a heavy pot (like enameled cast iron), cover the bottom with olive oil and sauté, over low-medium heat, the bacon pieces until the fat is rendered but they are not yet browned —about ten minutes.

Add the leeks, garlic, onions, celery, carrots, parsnips, and turnips and sauté until they are softened. You can add additional olive oil if needed. Season with kosher salt and black pepper. This step should take between ten and fifteen minutes.

Next, pour in enough broth (and water) to cover the vegetable and bacon mixture. Bring to a simmer.

After a few minutes of simmering, add the white beans and the herb bouquet. Allow to simmer for thirty minutes to an hour, stirring occasionally. For this step leave the pot uncovered to allow the broth to concentrate.

Now, add the hambone and potatoes. Bring back to a simmer, cover the pot, and cook for two to three hours —or until all of the vegetables are soft and the ham is pulling from the bone.

Remove the hambone and herb bouquet. Pull (or cut) the ham from the bone into bite-sized pieces and add back to the pot. Continue simmering the stew uncovered until it reaches your desired thickness. (Note: in France, this celebrated creation is not considered properly thickened unless a wooden spoon will stand on its own in the center of the pot).

Season with kosher salt and black pepper to taste.

To make the Crustini, place the cheese slices on the french bread rounds and broil until the cheese is melted and the bread is toasted.

The stew can be enjoyed as soon as prepared but is better with a day or two of rest to allow the flavors to meld. It pairs well with a robust red wine, like a Bordeaux, and a cozy fire.

Merry Christmas, my friend.