Keeping it fresh

Kari over at "Chef and Steward" has set a Mystery Basket challenge. It doesn't sound too hard - simply get three fresh items per day and cook with them.

But what is fresh? I decided to set myself an extra challenge, and in order to benefit my family with the extra taste, vitamins, and hopefully tax the environment just a smidge less, I have decided to buy items that are also in season. And this is where the conundrum starts.

When you live in the middle of the world AND in the desert, the whole concepts of "fresh" and "seasonal" produce is practically laughable. We have a smattering of farms in the vicinity, and they produce the only the following in great quantity:
  • Tomatoes, capsicum and beans (in chilled greenhouses)
  • dates, zucchini and roka (aragula)
  • Camel or cows milk, Laban and labaneh (cows milk yoghurt products)
  • Battery eggs and scrawny chickens (nigh-on impossible to buy one over 1200g)
And right at this moment, at the beginning of Autumn, which means the end of two months of 42°C temps, and the start of one more month of 39°C temps, pretty much the only things that have not curled up and died are the dates, beans, and the last of the tomatoes and zucchini.

But the benefit of living here is that imports are everywhere. Greenhouse effect be damned - I want an apple! But where to get it from? When I go to the store, I have a choice of US, New Zealand, Chinese and French apples. Now - apples are an Autumn fruit, so that means the NZ ones are out - it's just gone spring down south. The US ones were these waxy perfect looking green and red ones. But I don't trust apples that look like that - it's just not natural. The Chinese ones were fuji apples - super sweet and crisp, but no good for cooking. The French ones? Pink Ladies - the most fragrant of them all. I used them to make some super easy apple pastries (click on the link for the recipe).

So back to seasons...

Here's a list of the basics - eat these in their seasons, and you will probably be eating fresh:

Summer:
most berries, cherries and many other stone fruit and melons. Corn, tomatoes, beans, zucchini, cucumber, many leafy greens (lettuce, spinach, watercress etc), fennel and celery, nightshades such as capsicum, potatoes and eggplant, beans and peas, and many root veg (carrots, beet, radish and sweet potatoes). Asparagus may still be around for the first month. Dates start in late summer.


Autumn:
All the slower ripening fruits - grapes, apples, figs, pears, dates etc, and my favourite, pomegranites. Many of the leafy veg are still in, including kale and rhubarb, as are the above root veggies and some other later ones such as turnips, parsnip, onions and ginger. Cabbage, broccoli and it's cousin cauliflower come in early, brussel sprouts, and just in time for Halloween in October (or April in the Southern Hemisphere), all the marrows - pumpkin, butternut squash and melons etc. And let's not forget mushrooms and truffles - coming in late autumn and early winter.


Winter:
Think about the Christmas roast: root veggies are still around, along with brussel sprouts and leeks for warming soups. Apart from that, everything's in pretty low supply, except for the most useful of fruits, citrus.

Spring:
The time of rebirth - think green. Almost anything sweet and snappy is in - leafy greens, asparagus, herbs, chicory, watercress, and early sweet baby peas. Hurrah, avocados are back, and all those sweet tropical fruits - mango, pineapple, and lychees coming a little later.

I'd like to put meat in a different category, because this is subjective. It's rare to get meat that is both at its most tender and most flavoursome, and people usually go one way or the other. Lamb, for example - it's tender in Summer, but tasty in Autumn, possibly more so in Winter, but tough in Spring. However, just to confuse everything, there are generally two birthing seasons - both Spring and Autumn (less in Autumn), and so occasionally you will come across a lovely piece of lamb in Spring, and a terrible one in Winter. This is why it's best to be friends with your butcher. Beef is an aged meat, as is pork, so is pretty good year-round, but veal is like lamb - best in Winter, but Milk-fed is earlier, and again there is a second season.

When it comes to seafood, there is a general rule - don't eat when they are spawning (making babies), because the flesh always tastes different. Generally, bivalves (oysters, clams, mussels, etc. excepting sea scallops) and crabs are better in winter, and shrimp and prawns (and sea scallops/st jacques) are the summer choice. Fish is usually better in the warmer seasons, with exception to some such as swordfish and sea bass. If you must eat Hamour in the UAE, don't do it in Spring, because that's when it spawns, and it's already over-fished.

You know how birds fly south for the winter? That's because Winter is precisely the time everybody wants to eat them, particularly game birds.

And don't forget that in Dubai, we get both Southern and Northern Hemisphere foods. For the life if me, I could not find any lamb from the North, so I took a risk with the Aussie stuff and it turned out to be perfect. Must have been an autumn drop.

Did I mention it's really time for me to go vegetarian?

Maybe tomorrow...

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Kari - just so you know, I also made some Parmesan-crusted lamb cutlets and sauteed snow peas with a mustard and shallot dressing on day one. Day two I made banana pancakes for an afternoon snack, and chicken and cauliflower pie with a salad of baby spinach, sun-dried tomatoes and pine nuts. Tomorrow I'm thinking a ginger and sweet potato soup, and maybe I'll attack a pomegranate if I can find a pretty one. Cooking fresh every day is easy - blogging fresh every day? Another thing entirely. 







Apple Pastries

 There used to be a show on Australian TV called "Surprise Chef". This excitable chef would accost people in supermarkets, force the camera in their face, and then go home with them and put the camera through their pantry and fridge. His aim was to make a gourmet three-course meal for their family with only what he could find there.

Today, I found some gorgeous pink lady apples - the kind that look like they have come straight off a tree and into your basket, ripe, smelling like a glass of apple juice, un-waxed, oddly shaped and un-spectacularly coloured. I had to make an apple pie with no pie pan, and the laziest way possible (children wanted to eat them RIGHT NOW!!!). So I delved into my shelves, and found some condensed milk. "Hmmm...", I thought "Now that will be my challenge ingredient".

So here are the easiest apple pastries ever.


Ingredients:
  • 1 400g packet puff pastry (thawed and rolled to 5mm or less)
  • about 5 apples, peeled and thinly sliced
  • 1 small tin of condensed milk
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Instructions:
  1. Cut the pastry into large rectangles or circles, depending on what shape you prefer. (examples in picture)
  2. Mix the condensed milk and cinnamon into a paste, then spread like butter on the pastry, then arrange apples and fold the pastry in a pretty way.
  3. Bake at 180°C for about 15 minutes, or until golden.

These got gobbled up while still warm, drizzled with the left-over condensed milk. They would have been better with a dollop of double cream and a dusting of cinnamon icing sugar. They refrigerated nicely and went in school lunches (naughty I know) the following day.

Croatia part 4 - Pining for Posip

I will always remember the first moment I tasted an element in a wine that was not wine. The Goundrey 1992 Reserve Shiraz tasted like black pepper. It tasted so much like black pepper that I thought someone had actrually ground it in over the bottle. From that moment on, I had clarity. All of a sudden I knew what I was looking for, and finally believed all the wine-rhubarb out there. Next was asparagus in a Taltarni Sauvignon Blanc. Then lychees in Hugel Gewurztraminer. To this day, I still discover new flavours in wine, and am constantly amazed by what these wine making masters can do with a humble grape.

So you can imagine my disappointment when I arrived in Croatia - a land of perfect sunshine in summer (12 hours per day!), mild winters, the sirocco to blow away the frost in Autumn, the rocky and free draining limestone soil, the history of conquerors from master-wine-making races - and yet, a severe dearth in spectacular, or even consistent wine.

But then, there was a moment in Orsan Restaurant, when I held before me a glass of Grgic Posip.
It was slightly viscous, and swirled in the glass in slow-motion. The colour was vibrant, but not the urine-like yellow of all the other wines I had drunk over the previous week - no, it was tinged with green, like a peridot. And in the heat, pears, lemon blossom and vanilla kept on lifting their way out of the glass. Finally, a Croatian wine breakthrough!

Milkenko Grgic has made wine for Robert Mondavi, and was responsible for shocking the French into the realization that there were other countries in the world that could produce a reasonable drop in a blind tasting known as the "Judgement of Paris" which was later the subject of the film "bottle shock". He produced the 1973 Montelena Chardonnay (the film concentrated on the other wine, the Stag's Leap, which was named best red.)

He started his own vineyard, Grgich Hills in California shortly after (Calling himself Mike, and adding the h on his surname so English speakers would pronounce it properly), which to this day has a cult following. In 1996 he also set up shop back in Croatia, just above the sleepy and beautiful seaside hamlet of Trstenik and is finally bringing the words "Croatia" and "good wine" back together in a sentence.

Trstenik can be found on the Peljesac peninsular, about an hour past Mali Ston. After drinking his Posip, and being unable to find it in the surrounding wine shops (I did find it in Dubrovnik Old Town eventually), I badgered my husband and other members of our party to check out where it came from. This turned into what was probably the best day trip for our holiday, because we also picked up Korcula island (where the Posip is actually grown) and Orebic.

The peninsular is almost an island - only joined to the mainland by a kilometre or so land bridge, itself stretching 60-odd kilometres further into the Adriatic, almost touching the picturesque islands of Korcula and Mljet (very famous in its own right for the national park. I didn't make it there, but have heard it is the prettiest island off Croatia). The entry is bordered by scrubby ranges, which soon part to reveal a central valley filled with green green green, particularly good past Janjina.

The vines begin suddenly, and I almost missed them - no structured rows and trellising here. The area is almost entirely cultivated as bush vines - lucky to have a spike to help the bent and gnarled plants remain upright, let alone a wire to hold the leaves up. They tumble over limestone terraces, and even the road. I was able to taste the grapes - already sweet despite the harvest being at least a month off. It's been a hot summer this year. Olives and small vegetable plots are the only other planned vegetation, and similarly to the cascading and windswept native scrub, they shamble every which way, beautiful in their chaos.

The valley finally found its way to the sea, and we wound our way towards Trstenik. As it was only 10 am, we decided to visit Orebic and Korcula first. I've spoken about Korcula already - a bewithching island with so much more to see than I could in the time. Alone it required at least a full day, maybe two. Orebic would be a good holiday base - nearly halfway between Dubrovnik and Split, close to the Serbian border, and sitting on a strip of bleached stone shores and aqua water.



We visited Grgic on the way home, chirping like excited crickets when we saw the dreamy sign with a label like an art deco landscape. Grgic vines are stacked in neat rows all admiring the view, which at that moment was so glaringly full of colour I have had to turn down the saturation in the photos so you will believe they are real. A boat bobbed in the little cove and we nearly toppled off the wrong side of a hairpin bend while taking it all in.

In Australia, vineyards are geometric sweeping plains in softly undulating terrain. In France, vineyards are pristine and perfectly manicured, accompanying chateaux and ornate wrought iron gates. In Italy they are quaint irregular plots surrounded in fields of different shades of green and gold like a patchwork quilt. But here, the vineyards really are something else.

We stumbled in at 5:10 and lucky enough to find the tail end of the last (or so the cellar manager thought) tasters of the day. Croatian hospitality forced her to do what we knew she didn't want to, and she graciously abided us.

The Posip we tasted again, even though we had met its acquaintance many times already in various restaurants. We were also pleasantly surprised by the Plavac - a deep, red, violet-nosed and tar-berry filled wine, apparently related to Californian Zinfandel (and Italian Primitivo). We bought both, and also a bottle of the Grgich Hills Californian Fume Blanc (also good). The Posip has made it home to Dubai with me, and it sits here, along with a recent vintage of the Montelena Chardonnay that I found in Dubai Duty free on the way home. I wonder if they can still do it without Grgic at the helm...?

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The Grgic Winery is located just above Trstenic - there is a large sign on the road, and it is easily found while winding your way down to the tiny village. There are restaurants in the village - next time we might stop for lunch. It is open from 10am to 5pm and tastings are free (but please buy a bottle - it's really great stuff)

From Orebic you can take a ferry to Korcula - they leave about every 30 minutes (less over lunchtime), and there is also a car ferry and some fairly cheap taxi boats available.

for further reading on the wine, check this out: Wines of  Croatia