Our dish washer finally died. I saw it coming. Do they even make Magic Chef appliances any more?!? I think that ours was the original dishwasher from the time our building was constructed in 1978. So really a pretty good run but it had sure lost its magic long ago.
our elderly Magic Chef with Temp Boost
the upper rack was useless for cleaning anything though made a wonderful safety hazard
There were always a bunch of problems, but it was sort of working okay so we kept postponing getting a new one. Dishwashers aren’t that cheap, you know, and I have expensive tastes. We’ve been living with the ancient machine for about six years. Over that time it gradually entered senility. The MG slowly forgot how to clean dishes on the upper rack. Thus for the past few months I’d only use the lower one, which is obviously not a green practice. Even worse, sometimes the detergent dispenser would not open, so none of the dishes would get washed. But the most annoying thing was that the Magic Chef was loud…very loud. While the machine was running, you’d have to talk with extra volume even if sitting across the table from one another. If we were trying to watch TV, listen to music or have an after dinner conversation in the living room, it was almost impossible to make out what was said over the noisy swooshing jets of water and moving mechanical parts of the pathetic thing. When it drained it sounded like there was a flood in the house. Thank god that it never actually flooded (but don’t get me started on our ancient water heater disaster last summer!)
our Magic Chef soap dispenser was less than active in its old age
Despite all the inconvenience, the Magic Chef was a very helpful machine for a long time. We all get old and less effective at things that once seemed so easy when we’re young and fresh, don’t we? I am glad we had it. Magic Chef, thanks for being with us for this past six years. I hope that you’re at peace in kitchen appliance heaven now, perhaps sitting under a shade tree somewhere boasting to your mechanical friends about all of those filthy pots and pans that you cleaned lickety-split after your humans threw a massive dinner party in the Eighties.
look at our sleek new LG dishwasher! Are you jealous?
Dishwashers, like everything else it seems, have changed. Our new LG is just incredible! Though it fills the same space the Magic Chef did, the interior is much roomier. It washes really well without having to do any extra scrubbing. You can even use both racks! And the top one is adjustable for tall things like stemware. It has a special device to hold stemware and reduce breaking. Gosh! The thing that I like the most is that it’s ultra silent. At only 47 decibels, the sound is almost imperceptible. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that it was actually working the first few times I ran it because I didn’t hear anything from the dining room after I turned it on in the kitchen. What an improvement!
the very first load of dishes in our LG
I’ve been putting off writing about the “toad skin” melon since we got back from Brazil a few weeks ago as I’ve been trying to figure out what we’d call it in the U.S. No such luck. According to the Cambridge history of the world of food, there are hundreds and hundreds of kinds of melon: so sort of hard to know if there is even an equivalent one here.
melão pele de sapo
Hegui was convinced that he’d seen melão pele de sapo in San Francisco markets under another name. I’d never really paid attention before. But now I’m intrigued so will search for it as we roll into summer.
That Cambridge story is pretty informative. I didn’t realize that melons were thought to originally come from Africa, for example. And though I’d always considered melons and watermelons related, I’d never considered placing cucumbers in the same group. Did you know that in times past, melons were considered status symbols in northern Europe due to the difficulty and expense of their production? Me neither! The story even alludes to their symbolic sexual meanings in literature and culture. To borrow a phrase from someone I know, “Interesting!”
I'd never really thought about it much but melons do have sexual meanings, don't they?
Our melon had a green striped skin that kind of looked like toad skin. Weird how the name of the fruit does make sense, yet it puts me off as something to eat. Doesn’t ‘toad skin’ sound just dreadful for breakfast?
The flesh was a pale greenish, yellowish white. I thought that it tasted like honeydew and was “subtle.” Hegui was more blunt: he said it was “boring.” Perhaps it wasn’t quite ripe enough? We’d just finished eating these super sweet almost over-ripe mangos, which might have clouded our judgment on the melon.
melão pele de sapo flesh
melão pele de sapo slices
I can’t believe that we’re coming up on almost a year of weirdcombinations postings, that I love Mediterranean style food and have yet to write about hummus. That’s truly weird!
creamy hummus with vegetables and spinach paratha
I make hummus all the time including with many variations. Usually I’ll fry the garlic in a bit of olive oil to reduce the heat (and to improve my breath afterwards.) I’ve added black olives or capers, roasted red peppers or parsley to vary it. I prefer it a bit grainy and thick though Hegui likes more smooth. This time I unwittingly accommodated him by adding olive oil to the recipe. Normally I leave it out but somehow my brain wasn’t working right and I mixed up this recipe with basil pesto American style.
garbanzo beans are key
Creamy Hummus
1 can garbanzo beans (15 oz.), drained and rinsed
2 tbsp. Tahini
3 cloves garlic
Juice from one lemon
Kosher salt and black pepper to taste
3 to 4 tbsp. Olive oil (optional)
Finishing olive oil and powdered pasilla chile for garnish.
Fry garlic in a bit of olive oil for about a minute or two to reduce heat. (Omit this step if you prefer fresh garlic.)
Add garlic to food processor and pulse until minced. Add beans, tahini, lemon juice, salt and pepper, and olive oil if using. Pulse till blended. For a thinner hummus add a bit of tap water. Adjust salt to taste.
Spread hummus in a wide bowl or plate. Drizzle finishing olive oil on top and sprinkle with powdered pasilla.
Serve as a dip with chips, pita or raw vegetables. We had it with vegetables and a spinach bolani from Sukhi’s.
creamy hummus
mmmm! I love this thing!
I love roadside snacks almost anywhere. In the American Southwest I chomp on Cornuts. In Virginia or at the movies, nothing is better than cherry Twizzlers. When I took a three week tour of China about fifteen years ago, the other members of our little tour group started calling me “snack man” because I would buy anything and everything from little hole-in-the-wall shops to nibble. Brazil is no different. There they’ve got a lot of “rustic” sweets made from pumpkin, peanuts, coconut or sweet potatoes. I particularly adore the doce de batata roxa, or “purple potato sweet.”
On our recent visit to attend Hegui’s nephew’s graduation from engineering school (congratulations, Neto!), we stopped to refuel and stretch our legs a bit at this large market/restaurant/bar/gas station/rest stop. Inside they had an extensive array of homemade sweets, including doce de batata roxa. I was in heaven!
You can see me in the pic devouring my sweet right outside the store in the parking lot. These candies are typically either log-shaped or come in lumpy, freeform disks. The color is always dark purple. When you bite into the better ones there’s a chewy, almost crunchy outer shell hiding a soft, creamy interior. It tastes very sweet, a little like sweet potato, and sometimes coconut-y.
Brazilian roadside sweets including doce de batata roxa
I wanted to reproduce the magical dessert here at home, so looked around online for some recipes to try. Most of them were for a pudding made of sweet potato rather than the firmer candy. Finally I discovered one recipe that added gelatin to make the sweet into bars that could be individually cut and served. I had to improvise a bit as I can’t find sweet purple potatoes. I used the red ones instead. Mine didn’t quite turn out as I had hoped. It tastes wonderfully. That’s not it. The problem is that it didn’t firm up enough to cut. So it was sweet potato pudding after all.
Sweet Potato Pudding
3 lbs sweet potatoes (about four medium sized ones)
2 cups sugar
2 whole cloves
¼ cup light coconut milk
6 g. Gelatin
some water for gelatin
brown sugar as garnish
Clean sweet potatoes and put in a large pot. Cover potatoes with water and heat to boiling then simmer for about half an hour to cook potatoes and soften skin. Test them with a fork for doneness. Remove when soft.
sweet potatoes
Drain and rinse to cool. Peel off and discard skin (I did this by hand as it was quite easy). Throw into food processor and process a few minutes until smooth.
Put potato purée, sugar, coconut milk and cloves in medium sauce pan over high heat. Once it heats up to boiling, lower heat to simmer. Stir with wooden spoon to prevent sticking. Cook about an hour until it glistens.
Dissolve gelatin in some cold water for a minute. Pour half a cup boiling water over gelatin and stir until fully dissolved, about five minutes.
Mix gelatin into potato. Pour into a baking dish and refrigerate for at least two hours.
Here’s where my recipe diverged. The original says that you “Corte o doce em quadrados ou em losangos e role no açúcar cristal um pouco antes de server,”or ‘Cut into squares or lozenges and roll in crystallized sugar before serving.’ Ah, if only it had been so easy!
sweet potato pudding
I ended up serving mine in a bowl sprinkled with brown sugar and ate it with a spoon. It has a very intriguing flavor from the clove and coconut milk: really quite good and better than pumpkin pie filling. Nevertheless, if you know a reliable recipe for the bars, please send it to me!
We’ve been great fans of white Domaine de la Becassonne from the southern Rhône for ages. We first came across the wine more than two years ago when the 2006 vintage was on the market. We hardly ever drink white but enjoyed this one so much that we ordered a case. The 2007 vintage was even more spectacular. We particularly loved the perfume that rose from the glass. We bought two cases of that one and had another case at our wedding party. It was a huge success.
2008 Domaine de la Becassonne
The other day we tried the 2008. Wine Spectator says that ’08 is a so-so year for the southern Rhône. And though the Becassonne ’08 isn’t as marvelous as the ’07, it’s still much more interesting than a lot of white wine at a similar price point. I got this bottle for $14.99 at K and L. The Wine House sells it for the same but they offer case discounts.
It’s a blend of 50% Roussanne, 20% Clairette and 30% Grenache blanc. It comes in at 13% alcohol.
It’s a straw yellow color with the aroma of green apple. We tasted peach, pear and a little grapefruit as well as mineral. It had a “creamy” texture and a peppery finish. Hegui thought it tasted “thick” and sort of “chardonnay-ish,” though more interesting.
fiddlehead fern pasta for springtime
I got this recipe from French Women for All Seasons and have only been waiting for fiddleheads to appear in the market to make it. We were in luck last Saturday while revisiting the Ferry Plaza Farmer’s Market. There was a huge pile of fiddleheads at the charming mushroom shop inside the ferry terminal.
I’d never actually cooked with these before so had to trust Mireille Guiliano on this. They’re kind of expensive for a vegetable; something like $17 or more a pound, so I wanted the dish to turn out well. To her, they’re a signal of springtime. Certainly I was channeling Spring last week after the rain had stopped and we had several sunny mild February days while the East Coast was being socked in with feet of snow.
The fresh fiddleheads had a loamy smell that reminded me of the woods, or perhaps like parts of the Golden Gate Park near those tiny lakes on the north side. Frankly, as delightful as the smell was, it put me off. I don’t ever associate that with food.
The dish is easy to make and sort of like Hegui’s artichoke recipe. I actually served it with the artichokes as well as sautéed sweet pea shoots and mesculin salad. We complemented it with a lovely 2007 red Côtes du Rhône.
fresh fiddlehead ferns
Guiliano uses pancetta in her recipe. I left it out but struggled to come up with something flavorful as an alternative. I’d considered anchovies but John and Hegui both rejected the idea. I settled on olives but if I make it again I might add mushrooms and even a bit of blue cheese or cream.
Spaghetti with Fiddlehead Ferns
2 cups fresh fiddleheads
3 cloves garlic, coarsely chopped
Juice from half a lemon
Kosher salt to taste
Crushed red and black pepper to taste
4 tbsp olive oil or more
2 tbsp parsley, chopped
15 kalamata olives, in halves
Grated parmesan cheese to taste
1 package spaghetti or similar long pasta
Rinse fiddleheads thoroughly. Remove ends if they’re not freshly cut. Steam for six minutes to cook then immerse in cold water to blanch.
Prepare pasta per package directions.
While pasta is cooking, add olive oil and garlic to a hot skillet. Sauté for a minute then toss in drained fiddleheads. Add salt, red and black peppers and lemon juice. Cook for five to 10 minutes until tender. Add olives and parsley. Toss with pasta and cheese. I sprinkled a bit more crushed red pepper and drizzled a bit of finishing olive oil over the dish for presentation.
steamed fiddlehead ferns lose a bit of their color
Hegui liked it a lot but thought that the color had gone from the fiddleheads. They were a bit washed out. As an alternative he suggests skipping the lemon juice to keep the green color.
Some say serralha is a weed. I don’t agree. To me it’s another yummy bitter green that I love. It’s similar to dandelion in flavor and shape. I haven’t seen it for sale at food stalls and supermarkets in San Francisco for some reason, though it grows wild here. Lately it’s been raining quite a lot which is making the City look green. Sow thistle, like everything else, is doing really well.
steaming hot sauteed serralha
Every winter during the wet season I see them all over. I keep thinking to myself, “I’m going to pick those veggies and bring them home!” But the occasion was never right, that is until last Saturday. Usually the “weed” grows in little patches all over the place. But the other day while walking Clarence I bumped into this perfect patch of serralha quite nearby my house. It was a large bunch all growing together in a single spot. Perfect! I wanted to harvest them right away but the Beast (our English bulldog) would not cooperate. So I dragged Steven back to the spot the next day. Overnight, the plants seemed to have doubled in size! Was that the rain or my imagination?
I remember reading a chapter of Michael Pollan’s book, The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural History of Four Meals
, about foraging. He spends some time collecting wild morel and chanterelle mushrooms in Oregon, fennel in Berkley and salt from the Bay Area somewhere near Freemont. He never mentions anything about sow thistle, which are aplenty at this time of year. Maybe Mr. Pollan can take a lesson from me? So here’s my contribution to foraging, eating locally and this delectable green 
The plant is totally edible and delicious. It’s harvest time!
lots of fresh serralha
In Brazil we never cultivated serralha ourselves. There, to most people, it’s also seen as a weed. We just relied on nature to take care of it for us. It was fun hunting for it in the woods.
beautiful fresh serralha
The way my mother served it was very simple: she just sautéed it with olive oil, salt and pepper. Sometimes she would use lard, a bit naughty but at least it was organic, from the pigs we raised ourselves. The sautéed serralha was then served with rice and garlicky beans, a fried egg, sunny side up, and a vinegary tomato and onion salad. Sometimes slivers of some hard cheese such as parmesan would complement what to me was already a feast. Traditional food at it’s best!
Sautéed Wild Serralha
1 huge bunch of Serralha or sow thistle (mine was ~ 2 lbs or more)
5 cloves garlic, minced
5 tbsp olive oil
Kosher salt
Black pepper
How to:
Heat olive oil in a deep pan. Add garlic and sauté till fragrant and translucent. Add sow thistle, salt and pepper. Toss it around. Cover pan and let it cook until volume is reduced to less than half. Adjust flavor to your taste with more salt, pepper and/or olive oil. Serve.
serralha with rice, beans, fried egg and tomato salad
I love unusual fruit. Atemóia has to be one of the strangest. It looks like a greenish pinecone or perhaps similar to Deep Roy’s character’s profile in the 2009 Star Trek movie. Sort of bumpy and ridged and not at all inviting. That’s got to be part of its charm.
atemóia AKA atemoya
Wikipedia says the fruit is a hybrid between cherimoya and hazelnut custard apple. I’ve seen cherimoya before. They look similar to one another.
Hegui found our atemoya at a fruit and vegetable market in Jundiaí, Brazil, though I’ve seen them here. Just the other day at 22 and Irving Market, we chanced upon a whole box. Or could those have been cherimoya?
The outer layer is rough and inedible. The flesh of the fruit is a shocking white color dotted with black seeds (our pic doesn’t really dramatize the color contrast properly). It has a nutty, mellow, creamy, mildly sweet flavor. We loved it.
atemóia interior
atemóia for sale at a Brazilian fruit stand
