Cantaloupe

Melons are tricky fellows. By nature, they are secretive, hiding their true nature under thick skins. I've all but given up on honeydew melons that rarely deliver on the sultry promise of their musky scent, but I still have hope for cantaloupes. Mind you, I did not have any expectations for this particular melon. It was the second of a pair, the two for $5 melons sold at the grocery, not a local guy from the growers market or even from a roadside stand.
A few days ago, I had sliced open his twin, and it was oh-so average. Sweet enough, toothsome enough, but nothing special. It worked in cantaloupe soup, providing the right color and texture, but the other ingredients had to make up for what that particular cantaloupe lacked.
I had almost forgotten the second melon, and I certainly wasn't drooling in anticipation. In fact, I was pretty much resigned to encountering an inferior melon, and I figured that if it wasn't very good, there was plenty of time to chill a bowl of cantaloupe soup for dinner.
However, when my knife bisected the fruit, out wafted the unmistakable aroma of the perfect cantaloupe. As I trimmed off the rind, I could feel the perfect amount of resistance, not too crisp, not too mushy. I had to sit down and savor the moment.
When I had eaten my fill, I put the rest in the refrigerator for my spouse who prefers his fruit cold. After all, it was the perfect size for the two of us.
If you encounter a less-than-spectacular melon, though, there is hope. When life gives you mediocre cantaloupe, make cantaloupe soup.

Cantaloupe Soup
1 ripe cantaloupe, seeded, peeled, and cut into 1-inch chunks
1 cup fresh orange juice
1 cup plain Greek yogurt (full-fat, low-fat, or non-fat)
Agave nectar, to taste (If the melon is very sweet, you'll only need a tablespoon or so, but the beauty of using agave nectar is that it can be stirred in easily even after the soup has chilled.)
1/4 cup Midori (melon liquor), optional
a pinch of sea salt (trust me, it will make the flavors pop)
a pinch of Mishmish N.33 (an amazing spice blend that includes crystalized honey, lemon, and saffron--it is expensive, but it goes a looong way), optional--but if you don't have it, consider adding a bit of finely grated lemon rind

All the ingredients will not fit into a blender, so you have two options. Put everything in a bowl, mix together, and add 1/3 to the blender at a time. Blend at high speed until the cantaloupe is completely liquified. Pour the blended ingredients into a clean bowl or pitcher. Stir to make sure everything is well combined.
OR Put all ingredients into a large bowl and use an immersion blender to liquify the cantaloupe and blend all ingredients.
Taste and adjust seasonings if necessary. If you are unsure if it is sweet enough, wait until it is chilled and taste again.
Note that the quantities are general guidelines for a medium cantaloupe. If your melon is larger or smaller, adjust the amount of orange juice and yogurt appropriately.

Refrigerate for up to two days.

You can serve as a smoothie (don't add the Midori if you plan to serve to children!) or as a soup. I like to serve it in a shallow soup bowl, topped with a swirl of marscapone cheese that I've loosened by stirring and adding maple syrup to taste. A few blueberries sprinkled around the edges elevates this to party-worthy fare.

An apple for the teacher: Gilmore's of West Chester

On Saturday evening, four of us celebrated Gary's retirement and my separation from T/E at Gilmore's, the eponymous restaurant on Gay Street's restaurant row. In the space that formerly housed Clemente's, Peter Gilmore hosts two seatings a night in an intimate setting.

It was our first visit to Gilmore's, although it has been on our list of restaurants to try for years. Its reputation for fine dining is only surpassed by its reputation for impossible-to-get reservations. If the second has been holding you back, think again. While reservations are certainly required, even on a June Saturday when many West Chester residents have already migrated to the Jersey shore, they were able to accommodate us with a phone call the week before.

From opening the heavy green door to sipping the last drop of coffee, patrons are treated to an elegant but never stuffy experience. The entryway is lined with art for sale, and the art is complemented by a fresh-flower arrangement on a Victorian hall table. The hostess is immediately attentive, but it is obvious that if you don't have a reservation, you will not get past her into the dining room.

There are ten tables in the main dining area, and another three in the second space. Here, too, the walls are covered in art, selected by Susan Gilmore and offered for sale. The walls are a warm terra cotta with gold stippling, the carpet a burgundy with gold design. The tables are set with white linens, crystal and cobalt glasses, white china, and heavy flatware. We had a table at the front of the house, which allowed us to use the window sill for extra space. The small dimensions made it easy to hear (good for us older folks!), but we wouldn't be able to accommodate all the glassware and our plates if we didn't have our own personal sideboard space.

Our waiter politely suggested that to get the full Gilmore experience, we should sample something from each of three courses, and I'm glad we followed his recommendation. I had the lobster special (tempura battered lobster claw and half tail over four asparagus spears sitting in a shallow pool of lobster gravy), panko-dusted fried goat cheese on diced fresh beets nested on baby arugula, and the hanger steak with their version of potatoes Anna and (again) asparagus, dressed in the silkiest Hollandaise sauce I've ever tasted. Gary had a salad, escargot and edamame with a wedge of puff pastry, and duck. We were pleasantly tempted by the dessert menu, including the apple-ask-work-of-art encased mousse, a perfect selection for retiring teachers.

Since Gilmore's is a BYOB, our friends brought along a bottle of Veuve Cliquot champagne to toast our milestone and a wonderful bordeaux to accompany the meal. Even without knowing what we would order, their wine selections paired perfectly with our choices.

The service was old-world, with courses arriving at a pace that allowed us to share and enjoy each one. Dishes were presented with well-deserved flourish, with two or three waiters delivering them so no one had to wait.  Plates were only cleared after all of us had finished eating, unlike some restaurants where dishes are whisked away, sometimes even before the patron finished the last bite. This precise orchestration is imperative when patrons will be arriving for a second seating, but I never felt rushed. My only complaint was the tea service (yeah, I know, you've heard my gripes about tea service in the past). The waiter offered us a very nice selection of teas, and the hot water arrived in beautiful, individual cobalt-blue and white pots, but the water wasn't all that hot, and it was exactly one cup, and despite my friend asking for a second pot of water, it never arrived. On the other hand, my husband raved about the coffee, which was a rich deep roast served appropriately hot.

Clemente's was my father's favorite restaurant in West Chester, and I thought of my dad all through the meal. While Gilmore's has a French accent rather than Italian, Dad would have enjoyed the setting, the food, and the service. If you have a special occasion coming up, I would by all means suggest that you get on the phone (or on Open Table) and make reservations. You will have a memorable meal in a comfortably elegant setting.

 

Going Bananas

Bananas are easy to take for granted. They are available year-round, easy to digest, nutritious, and oh-so sweet. That's why it's very scary to hear that although there are over 1200 varieties of bananas, the two types most familiar in the US are under attack from two fungal diseases. According to some scientists, these bananas may be extinct in under ten years.

I don't want to sound greedy, but since hearing that news, I've been eating a banana every day. For breakfast, I love sliced bananas covered in milk, with or without cereal. For lunch, I love a banana halved lengthwise and tucked into a hotdog roll spread generously with Nutella. For dinner, I love banana bread instead of more traditional starches. Of course, banana bread is equally delicious for breakfast or a snack.

The easiest and most nutritious version of banana bread comes from The Fannie Farmer Cookbook. I've adapted it for my family's tastes, substituting chocolate chips for nuts. If you have a fork, a bowl, and a loaf pan, you can make this recipe. With no butter and little sugar, it's almost a health food!

Chocolate Banana Bread
3 ripe bananas, well mashed
2 eggs, well beaten
2 cups flour
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 cup mini chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 degrees and butter a loaf pan. Mix the bananas and eggs together in a large bowl. Stir in the flour, sugar, salt, and baking powder until just blended. Stir in the chocolate chips. Pour batter into the pan and bake for 1 hour or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs. Let sit for 10 minutes before removing from pan and placing on a rack to cool. Of course, you may eat it warm if you can't resist.

Bland, low-fiber diet

I need advice and I need it soon.
Do I sound desperate? That's probably because I am. I'll spare you the gory details, but after spending most of yesterday in the emergency room, my diet has been restricted for the first time in my life. And the restrictions are pretty brutal: avoid whole grain food, whole fruits and vegetables, meats, seeds and nuts, fried and fatty foods, dairy, alcohol, and spicy foods until my symptoms go away. Are they serious? What is left? Oh, yeah. Here's that list: white rice, fruit and vegetable juices without pulp, tender meats.
I implore my foodie friends. What can I do to make these foods interesting? I am hoping that I can ditch the diet in less than a week (after all, our fig tree is still producing amazing fruit that is FULL of seeds), but in the meantime, what suggestions do you have?
Thanks for any recipes you can offer!

A Change of Seasons

On the way home from work yesterday, I noticed gold in the trees and sniffed autumn in the breeze. The page on the calendar magically turned to September 23. I might be holding on to summer for dear life, but fall is officially here.
At 6:30, the sky was almost dark, and not just from the rain. Instead of corn and melons at the market, there were root crops and apples. Pork tenderloin in the oven sounds better than salmon on the grill. Butternut squash puree was a welcome addition to the dinner table.
I'm lucky to live in Pennsylvania. Just as one season starts to weary my senses, the next brings change. Local strawberries taste all the more sweet because I know they only last for a few weeks, but they give way to the next crop and the next. And when the heat and the humidity get unbearable, I relish the laziness because I know fall will soon bring not just cooler air, but also falling leaves, macintosh apples, and giant pumpkins. Of course, the big family holidays, Thanksgiving and Christmas, are only a blink of an eye away. Then we get to share food and cheer with everyone we love.
So, I'm looking behind at summer, wishing for just one more watermelon, and looking ahead to Christmas, anticipating cookie baking, but in the meantime, I will enjoy the early fall and its bounty. I hope you will, too!

Here's a recipe for a great fall side dish. The most difficult part is peeling the squash, and if that task is too daunting, most markets sell already cleaned and cut squash (but at a premium!)

Pureed Butternut Squash

1 butternut squash, peeled, seeded, and cut into about 2 inch cubes*
maple syrup, to taste
butter, to taste
cinnamon and nutmeg, optional
Put squash in a covered, microwave-safe dish and cook for 5 to 8 minutes, depending on the size of the squash. Make sure the squash is very soft. Do NOT add water to the dish; the squash will produce its own steaming liquid.
When the squash is soft, drain well and transfer it to the body of a food processor fitted with the stainless-steel blade. Process until smooth. Add 1/4 to 1/2 cup maple syrup, total, and about a teaspoon of butter for every cup of puree. Blend just to combine. Serve.
Don't worry if this recipe makes more than your family can eat in one setting. Leftovers are delicious!

*To peel this stubborn vegetable, use a chef's knife to remove both ends. Use a sharp potato peeler (I love the OXY peelers) to remove the skin. Cut in half between the bulbous bottom and the more slender top, then place flat side on the cutting board and slice into 2-inch slabs. Put the slabs on their sides to cut again, and then cut crosswise. With practice, you can peel and slice a squash in under five minutes.

To market, to market

On the way home from school today, we stopped at the East Goshen Farmer's Market. It felt good to be back after missing it for two Thursdays in a row. The market continues to expand, but there are certain vendors that I have to visit. My first stop was to Frecon Farm for peaches, plums and sickle pears. While I was waiting in line, Gary visited Blueberry Hill Produce for corn, just to make sure that they didn't run out before I got there. A visit to the market would not be complete without the beets from Maysie's Farm, and Sam also had huge heads of escarole and gorgeous radishes to add to my market basket. I picked up a baguette from Wild Flower Bakery. Then I made another stop to Blueberry Hill for ingredients for gazpacho. The green beans were lined up like firewood in quart basket, so I couldn't resist them. Luckily for my waist and wallet, John and Kira (the chocolateers) were not there today, but I'm hoping they'll be back next week. Not only are their candies delicious, they come in adorable shapes. Who can resist caramels wrapped up in a honeybee chocolate casing or chocolate cherries that look like ladybugs? A dozen multi-hued eggs from Lindenhof and a bag of granola from Laura's Biscotti, and we were home again, home again, jiggity jig.

So what did we have for dinner? We went to Le Saigon so Tim could have their soft-shelled crabs before they went out of season. The corn will have to wait until tomorrow night.

When we got home, I handed off some peaches, plums, and pears to Tim (once again, I bought enough fruit for a small army), put the beets on to steam, harvested the heart from the escarole for salad later in the week and cooked up the tougher outside leaves for soup, nibbled on a few radishes before stashing the rest in the vegedor, and whipped up a batch of gazpacho. Now, all the purchases that need to be in the fridge can actually fit, and I have several meals started for the coming days.

And that's why I love going to the East Goshen Farmer's Market!

Coffee versus tea service

It happened again last weekend. I was sitting in one of my favorite breakfast places, savoring a cup of Bigelow's Raspberry Royale tea when a well-meaning waitress topped off my cup with--you guessed it--coffee. Now mind you, the tea service looks very different from the coffee service (there's a saucer, for one thing, with my used tea bag resting there in plain sight), and I didn't ask for a refill, yet there I was with a cup of coffee/tea. The waitress was quite apologetic, but since it was neither tea nor coffee, it was not palatable. And she didn't bring me another cup!

But at least my waitress noticed my cup was nearing empty. While coffee drinkers are offered refills ad nauseum, I have to beg to get more hot water. Heaven forbid if I ask for another tea bag as well. Instead, I hold out my cup a la Oliver Twist, pleading for more from a frowning waitress. I guess it's because tea service is more difficult than coffee service--there's the boiling water and the tea bag, a whole two part process versus the simple picking up of an already-brewed pot of Joe.

Tea drinkers are subject to other forms of torture, I might add. No one arbitrarily sticks a slice of lemon in a cup of coffee, yet waitresses insist on garnishing tea cups with lemon wedges. When I add a little cream to my tea, the residual juice ends up leaving curds in my cup. Yuck!

Tea needs really hot water to brew, yet often the water is barely tepid, forcing tea drinkers to drink a watery, barely warm beverage. Meanwhile, my coffee-drinking friends are complaining that their beverage is too hot to sip. That's when I start to boil myself!

Do you drink tea? Do you have any stories that you would like to share? Do you have any suggestions to improve tea service for all of us tea drinkers? Let me know!