Wild What

I have a confession to make. When I deviate from my mostly vegetarian palette... when I indulge in what I try to be sure is humane, ecologically raised food... when I find myself wanting some meat... I want... well, meat. I mean real meat, powerful, chewy, flavorful meat. Don't give me any of that chicken breast white crap: I want bacon, chicken thighs, or wild boar.

Wild Boar? What?

No, seriously, it's pretty much my new best friend. Let me list the reasons:

(1) My primary concern in choosing what I eat is sustainability. Wild Boar are sometimes Feral Pigs, which exist in annoying, pest-like abundance - reducing the local population of feral animals does the environment, relatively speaking, a favor. Even when "farm-raised", Boar primarily forage for food and are generally raised with less grain than pigs or cattle. This species can be farmed on a much smaller ecological footprint and with fewer antibiotics than grain-fed animals. So, whether the Wild Boar is obtained from a local feral pig population or is raised on a large acerage farm, I feel good making a choice to minimize any ecological impact.

(2) My second concern in choosing what I eat is to ensure fair animal husbandry. Not all Wild Boar is "Wild", but truly free-roaming meat can be located quite easily. I eat it happily: these animals have a good life nosing around in the forest for mushrooms and other edibles.

(3) My third concern in choosing what I eat is based on health. The health benefits of eating wild game meat are well documented (akin to eating grass fed versus grain fed beef)

(4) Although chicken, pork or fish are occasionally on our menu, Greg and I will probably never eat beef. When your husband knows some who died from CJD, it kind of turns you off of the whole species, at least until America starts testing its animals. Wild boar fills my otherwise unfillable craving for red meat.

(5) Wild Boar is flavorful and delicious.

(6) My local market carries a steady supply from this fantastic company.

(7) It's the sort of thing that would make Michael Pollan proud.

Prepared well, the Wild Boar I've had has been very flavorful and tender. The last time I tasted some at a restaurant, it literally fell apart on the fork. The prepared sausages we've been eating at home have a wonderfully delicate texture and a hearty, beef-like flavor. So, we decided it was time to try making a boar roast ourselves.

When I searched for a good guide on cooking wild boar, I quickly came up short. There actually aren't many recipes on the internet and many of the recipes I found did not distinguish between different cuts of meat. The dinner I worked on tonight was my best shot at uniting all of the advice I read: marinating, slow cooking, pairing with complementary flavors and textures.

So, how'd everything go? Well, okay, the Wild Boar Roast was dry. Very dry. Bone dry. Chewy, actually. The wild mushroom pan sauce was the true star of the show: it was out of this world for "savory". The Boar pan drippings lent a meaty flavor to the mushrooms that I know I could never achieve with just wine and salt alone, and the last bit of butter emulsified everything into satiny goodness. I could have licked the pan - it was that good. As for the meat, the texture left much to be desired, but we devoured it anyway since the flavor was spot on. The red wine and sage complemented the rich, wild flavor of the Boar wonderfully. I wouldn't change the flavors of this dish, only the cooking method. Here are a few guesses for next time:

- Choose a different cut (although, the "mini-roast" available at my local market is dirt cheap and I'm not sure I want to spend, say, $60)

- Cook the meat longer (akin to brisket)

- Marinate longer (some recipes suggest up to five days)

- Marinate with something other than red wine (eg vinegar)

- Create more surface area for the meat to be exposed to the pan sauce while cooking (eg a ragu or bolognese)

In the meantime, if you're curious about Boar but don't want any hassle, these sausages are amazing.

I know these mushrooms and polenta circles look awful, but oh my gosh it was delicious. So flavorful.

Wild Boar Roast with Wild Mushrooms and Polenta

1 Wild Boar roast, 1-1.5lb (for example)

2 tbsp olive oil

2 cups Red Bordeaux, or other hearty wine (more examples)

1 med onion

3-4 med carrots

6-8 cloves garlic

~2 tsp chopped fresh sage or 3/4 tsp dried sage)

12 oz cremini or baby bella mushrooms

4 oz wild mushrooms of choice(eg, Maitake, AKA Hen of the Woods)

2 tbsp butter

Extra Olive Oil

Polenta***

Add the roast and 1 cup of red wine to a plastic ziptop bag. Press out all of the air, seal the bag, and marinate for 6-8 hours in the refrigerator.*

About 3 hours before dinner, preheat the oven to 275 degrees. Cut the onion in half and cut each half in 4 wedges. Peel and slice the carrots into 1/4" medallions. Peel the garlic and leave whole. Set the vegetables aside. Slice off the woody ends of the stems, then halve or quarter the cremini or bella mushrooms so that they're all of similar size. Roughly chop the wild mushrooms. Set the mushrooms aside.

Add all of the olive oil to a cast iron dutch oven or heavy bottom casserole dish. Bring to medium high heat. Carefully place the roast into the pan: it's going to sizzle quite a bit. Brown the roast for 1-2 minutes per side. Make sure the roast gets a nice color on each side. And by "side", I mean all sides: at least four turns around plus two ends.

Once the roast is evenly browned, add the vegetables and cover with a good quantity of freshly ground pepper. Sprinkle 1/2 tsp of salt on top. Cover the dutch oven and place in a 275 degree oven. Baste every 30 minutes, turning the roast, until the internal temperature reaches 170 degrees** and the vegetables are cooked through. (Add the sage right at the end).

Slice cold polenta to 1/2" thick circles, place on a cookie sheet and brush with olive oil. Sprinkle with freshly grated black pepper. When the roast is cooked, remove the casserole dish and bring the oven temperature up to 350. Place the polenta circles in the oven and cook until lightly browned and soft throughout, ~20 minutes.

Meanwhile, remove the cooked vegetables and roast to a platter, covering with silver foil and a towel to keep warm. Reserve the pan drippings and juice in the dutch oven. Add the mushrooms to this broth. Cook over medium heat with the lid off, stirring often, until the mushrooms begin to caramelize and the liquid is almost completely reduced (~10 minutes). Deglaze with an additional cup of red wine and repeat the process (~10 minutes). When about 1/2 cup of juice is left, turn off the heat and stir in 2 tbsp butter. Salt to taste.

Slice the roast as desired. Plate the roast with several polenta rounds on the side. Drizzle the mushroom glaze over the polenta rounds and spoon other vegetables and mushrooms on the side. Enjoy with a glass of the same wine you used to cook the boar. This dish goes well with plain Great Northern beans (recipe below).

*As I mentioned above, I probably should have marinated for longer

**Don't do what I did. The roast was in the oven for an hour and I basted it for the second time. The juices were bubbling. Out of curiosity, I took a spoon and sampled the basting liquid. It tasted horribly raw but for some reason I didn't spit it out. I checked the temperature of the liquid, which was only 140 degrees (a far cry from the required 170), and then proceeded to freak out. I am hoping that this particular boar haunch didn't host any parasites, or maybe they stay put in the meat and don't flow out into the juices. In any event, I did two shots of rum for good measure! I wanted to tell this story because some websites - D'Artagnan included - tell you that Boar is best cooked rare (like beef) and suggest a low temperature of 120. Personally (and I certainly could be wrong), I think this is a terrible idea, since foraging animals are fairly likely to pick up parasites such as these. Phrases like "burrow through the wall of your small intestine" come to mind. The only way to be safe is to cook the boar thoroughly. So, 170 degrees might worsen the toughness of the meat, but I would recommend it.

***You can make your own and cool it into a solid shape, or avoid the extra hassle and buy the tube:

Great Northern Beans, quick method

These creamy beans are flavorful enough to hold their own without extra seasoning.

1 cup Great Northern Beans, rinsed and picked over

3 cups water or broth

salt to taste

Add beans to a pot and cover with 3" of water. Cover the pot, bring to a boil and then turn off the heat. Let stand for one hour. Empty out water and rinse beans thoroughly.

Place beans back in the pot with the 3 cups of water or broth. Bring to a simmer, cover, and cook until the beans are creamy (~1 hour, depending on how old the beans are). If the beans are at all gritty or grainy, keep cooking! Salt to taste.

Things are good, though I'll still be out for a while...

I'm still going to be off food blogging for a bit (got sick, now I'm catching up with work, d'oh!), but I just wanted to leave the blog on a better note than the last two posts. My mom is much better. She is recuperating as well as could be hoped for and is on the way to a full recovery. It's not clear how much longer she'll be in the hospital (several days or several weeks?), but if everything continues to go as well as it has so far, she should be back home in about a week.

I'll be back to posting recipes soon... in the meantime, happy blogging!

Thank You.

Thank you to everyone for their concern. My mom had a severe cerebellar hemorrhage on Saturday. I find myself lacking the words to describe her current condition, and for her privacy I will refrain from discussing it here. She has been in critical care in the ICU for five days; although there will be a long road to normalcy, so far the physical aspects of her recovery have been very good. My father and the rest of the family are coping. This occurred so unexpectedly that the whole thing has been quite a shock. Now, it remains for us to be patient as she heals.

Here's to hoping that my next post is from New Haven with more good news. Thanks again for your kind words of support.

Out for a while

A family medical emergency has me flying to phoenix and more than a little distracted. I won't be posting for a while. Happy New Year, and happy blogging,

Rachael

A Lentil Soup You Won't Soon Forget

Recipe for homemade bread to serve it this lentil soup with

In Tempe Arizona, off University Drive, sharing a plaza with a dry-cleaners, an ethiopian diner and an abandoned bank dusty, sits a yellow stuccoed cafe whose inner ceiling is strung with ivy that flourishes all year round. I visited there at least several times a month when I lived nearby, and I was almost always served by the same waiter - a curiously blue-eyed, sandy-haired 20-something man who tended to follow my friendly inquiries with some religious musing or a cryptic smile. One could never be certain if he was chemically high or spiritually high. Either way, the effect never failed to make me smile back. The restaurant was a family owned and operated Israeli Cafe called Sabuddy's, and they served The Best Lentil Soup I've ever had.

Why was it so good? At the time, I wouldn't have been able to tell you, exactly. It was thick, hearty, nourishing, and possibly umami-laden. The only identifiable components were lentils, white pepper and some potato, though its exact composition depended on the day. Its consistency varied from watery to stand-a-fork-upright, but it was always amazingly creamy and filling with a bright, yellowish color and flecks of pale white lentil skin. My friends and I never managed to get an exact recipe out of our spiritually enlightened waiter, except to confirm on more than one occasion that the soup was vegan.

Since moving away from Sabuddy's lentil soup, I have tried on many, many occasions to duplicate it. A friend and I wondered - what was the secret ingredient? Was there some vegetable or seasoning we knew nothing about? MSG? Did they sneak bacon, or maybe chicken stock in it? Some illegal drug that kept us coming back? We tried everything we could think of, except the problem was there that there wasn't much to try save carrots, celery, potato, and spices. Homemade lentil soup was never the same as what was served at Sabuddy's.

That is, homemade lentil soup was never the same until I discovered these:

It was the type of lentils that made the difference, and my eyes were suddenly open to a world of flavor.

What do you think of when someone says "lentil" to you? The typical brown and green varieties are a bit bland - filling, yes, but lacking in any culinary oomph or interest on their own. When I started learning more about this often overlooked legume, I was surprised to find a diversity of form and flavor that is not properly appreciated in American cuisine. Lentils have been around for more than 9,000 years. Although often considered peasant food, lentils have endured in a variety of cuisines in the Near East, India and the Mediterranean - probably because of their remarkable flavor, excellent nutritional value and ease of preparation. Pair lentils with a grain and you will be providing your body with a complete set of essential amino acids - good for vegetarians. This dream dictionary claims that if a young girl dreams of lentils, she is dissatisfied with her lover, though I might take a less Freudian approach to the matter. I was also amused to find out that in the Old Testament, Esau gave up his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of lentil soup - perhaps my biblically inclined waiter was hinting at more than my agnostic (and recipe-inquiring) mind could appreciate.

Today, I decided to try experiment with the several kinds of lentils sitting in my pantry. The cooking technique for lentils is quite straightforward: rinse lentils in four changes of water prior to cooking, do not soak, and do not salt or add acidic ingredients until you are ready to serve the dish (both of which would toughen the lentils). Cooking times will vary, and you can choose to halt the cooking process earlier to drain water and retain the lentil shape, or you can boil them down into a creamy stew. As with any legume, skimming foam off the top of the boiling water and cooking them thoroughly will help make them easier to digest. Here are four different types of lentils all prepared the same way:

Type	Color	Flavor/ Texture	Lentil : water ratio	For intact lentils	For softer lentils
Brown / Common	Think army fatigues	Mild, watery Firm, holds shape	1:3	30 min*	>60 min
Harvest Gold	Yellow	Hearty, nutty Very soft	1:2.5	15 min	>30 min*
Petite Crimson / Egyptian	Red, hulled and split	Hearty, meaty Mush	1:2.5	10 min	>30 min*
Beluga / Black / Urad	Black	Fruity and fragrant, sweet Very firm, holds shape well, glossy	1:3	30 min*	>60 min*

*Lentil is best suited for this texture

Note: Older lentils require more water and longer cooking times. These are my very-approximate estimates based on the particular packages of lentils I had. Stir and taste often, adding more cooking liquid as necessary. Thoroughly cooked lentils will be creamy through the entire bite.

And here is, as best as I can duplicate it, Sabuddy's lentil soup. I suspect their version could be even easier to prepare than mine.

Sabuddy-Style, The Best Lentil Soup

Serves: well, that depends on how hungry you are. About two.

2 tbsp olive oil

1 small onion, diced

1 tsp coriander, 1 tsp white pepper

2-4 garlic cloves, minced

1 cup petite crimson "red" lentils, rinsed thoroughly and picked over*

2-3 cups water or stock (I'd actually avoid vegetable stock here - use free-range, organic chicken stock if you have it, or else just water)

1 small Russet potato, cubed to 1/2"

Salt and black pepper to taste

A lemon wedge, if you so desire

*If you can't find red or yellow lentils (check the bulk food section of natural groceries) you might be stuck. Green / brown / black / French lentils will simply not work in this recipe.

Heat the olive oil in a soup pot until it shimmers. Turn heat to medium and add onion, coriander and white pepper to the pot. Cook, stirring, until the onion is translucent. Turn heat to medium-low and add garlic, lentils, water or stock and potatoes. Cover and simmer for 45-60 minutes, stirring often as the soup thickens.

The lentils will soften and completely break down to the point where it looks like you pureed the whole thing in a blender; then, the soup is done. Add extra water or stock if necessary and don't be afraid to cook the soup for longer than stated here: the final soup will have the consistency of a smooth, thin porridge and it will be very creamy. It will thicken as it cools.

Salt and pepper to taste. Serve with good bread and a squeeze of lemon juice.

Notice the powdery stuff on the yellow lentils? That's talc - part of the reason why you need to wash lentils very thoroughly

That Season of Hats and Mittens

Perhaps I am an oddity, but after moving from Arizona to Connecticut, I quickly discovered that Winter is my favorite season. I'll forgo lush Springtime, activity-filled Summer, and colorful Fall for That Season Of Hats and Mittens and Christmas Trees. Here are a few of my favorite things:

• The smell of ice in the air, especially when you know it is going to snow
• The sound of claws scrambling on bark as two squirrels greedily argue over acorns
• The perfect, quiet air of heavy snowfall (which is improved vastly over winter break, when the Yale undergrads are gone)
• Dogs that sniff more because it's cold (and hard to smell!)
  
• Red cheeks and chilly ears
• Radiators
• True appreciation of blankets, and particularly, of that miraculous stuff, Wool
  
• Comfort food

Okay, you knew I had to bring it back to food. This is a food blog, right? Well, I actually don't have any recipes for you today (unless you consider confirmation that a 1:1 cheese:pasta ratio is not high enough for good macaroni and cheese - I did an experiment - a recipe). I will, however, mention one more of my favorite things about Winter - it reminds me of the colors of the desert southwest. I find the naked trees, faded contrast and desolate panoramas beautiful in their own right. I love the striation in the snow of white upon gray upon darker gray, even though I know it comes from road dirt. The damp concrete that reveals meandering cracks, hidden shapes and mysteriously watery reflections makes me want to pull out a camera every five steps. Winter is a feast for my eyes.

Toasted Bulgur Wheat

 

  

Bulgur is prepared by parboiling, drying and grinding whole wheat berries. This nutty grain is my go-to recipe for potlucks or dinner parties. Bulgur, in my mind, is a wonder-grain for vegetarians. It's not packed in amino acids like Quinoa, but what it lacks in protein, it makes up for in flavor. Once toasted with oil in a pan, the wheat grains release a wonderful nutty flavor that complements roasted vegetables quite well. The fact that most people haven't had bulgur makes this dish a pleasant surprise.

As an added bonus? Leftover bulgur tastes even better the next day.

The recipe I have listed here is quite time consuming. I don't always invest an entire afternoon to prepare bulgur wheat; in fact, for most dinners, I whip something together in less than 30 minutes by skipping the roasted vegetables (I stir in a little chopped onion or parsley instead).  Toasted bulgur on its own is amazing. You can also substitute whatever is in your pantry - I have made this with cauliflower, broccoli, asparagus, onion, garlic, tomatoes, zucchini, carrots, mushrooms of all sorts, and squash. If you wish, you could stir in chopped nuts, feta, parsley or roasted garlic at the end. It will taste like winter comfort food no matter what, I promise.

To shorten this recipe, you can chop, toss and roast all of the vegetables together at once. Doing them in batches didn't bother me since I was cleaning while I cooked, but if you're in a rush, just roast everything on several pans all at once. Keep an eye on things to make sure the vegetables don't burn. When you substitute other vegetables, note that denser vegetables (eg, carrot) will take more time and thus need to be chopped smaller than watery vegetables (eg, zucchini).

Roasted Vegetables with Toasted Bulgur Wheat

Serves: 10-12

 

Lots of olive oil

Salt and Pepper

 

1 head cauliflower

1 bunch asparagus

1 small eggplant

1 medium zucchini

1 onion

4 medium portobella mushrooms

 

2 cups bulgur wheat, medium-course grind

4 cups water or stock*

1 tsp salt, 1 tsp freshly ground black pepper, 1/2 tsp cayenne pepper, 1 1/2 tsp ground sage

 

Preheat the oven to 350.  Prepare and roast the vegetables in four batches. While roasting one set, prepare the next set of ingredients, tossing each with plenty of olive oil, salt and pepper before its time in the oven.  While roasting vegetables, be sure to stir often so that they do not burn. (1) Peel any green leaves off of the cauliflower and slice into 3/4" sheets. Remove tough part of main stem, if there's any of it left, and then chop or pull apart cauliflower florets until everything is bite sized. Toss with liberal amount of olive oil and salt and pepper, pour into a large baking dish or cookie pans and roast until tender and browned on the edges (~45 minutes, depending). (2) Hold a test piece of asparagus by each end and bend until it snaps. Using the length of this stalk as a guide, trim the rest of the asparagus to the right length. Roast for ~15 minutes. (3) Peel and cube (1/2") the eggplant; salt excessively and leave in a colander for 20 minutes, then rinse off the salt and squeeze out all the water you can.  Chop or slice the zucchini into 1/2" thick pieces. Dive the onion. Roast all of these together for ~25 minutes. (4) Slice the portobellas to 1/4" thickness. Roast for ~10 minutes. When you're done, reserve any pan drippings and add to the bulgur.

 

At some point in this process, prepare the bulgur. It can sit without getting mushy. Add 4 tbsp olive oil to a large, heavy bottom pan. Add bulgur and cook over medium-high heat, stirring frequently until the bulgur is toasted to a deep honey-brown color. Don't burn it, but get close! Add all of the vegetable stock and spices at once, cover, and simmer over medium-low for 20-30 minutes. Check often, as the cooking time will depend on what kind of bulgur you use. When done, the bulgur should taste nutty; it will be mostly tender with some al dente pieces, but it should not "stick to your molars", as my husband puts it. If the bulgur starts getting dry, just stir in more stock 1/2 cup at a time. Salt and pepper to taste.

 

Spoon bulgur into a large casserole dish and cover decoratively with vegetables. Keep warm in oven until ready to serve or cool for at least an hour before placing in the fridge. This casserole will taste even better if it sits overnight.

* You can use water, chicken stock or vegetable stock for this. I use homemade vegetable stock (recipe below). If you don't want to bother with a homemade stock, look for a stock that is mostly clear (not a "broth" of pureed vegetables), and look for something with a slightly bitter, rich flavor to it. After much trial and error, I found that I prefer this stock, whose first ingredient is onion. Depending on where I shop in a particular week, I use this one too. My pet-peeve is carrot and tomato based stocks or broth purees, which are far too sweet for most vegetable dishes.  I honestly think a good stock (whichever one you use) makes a world of difference.

 

Vegetable Stock

This takes somewhere around 1 lb of vegetable scraps: onion skin peelings, the ends of carrots, mushroom stems, garlic ends, tomato bits, parsley, etc. I even throw in kale stems or spinach leaves if I have it. Avoid sulpherous vegetables like cauliflower, cabbage or broccoli. If you don't have any mushroom stems, sprinkle in a few dry mushrooms to compensate - it really makes a difference. If the vegetable scraps look low, I supplement with a chopped carrot / onion / celery, etc. Taste the broth after about an hour and decide if it seems too watery.

 

Add vegetable scraps to a large pot with 1 bay leaf, a palm-full of peppercorns, and 1 1/2 tbsp salt. Add water to cover vegetables completely (8-10 cups), cover, and simmer on high heat for 3 hours.  Cool for 1 hour or, if you live in the east like us, on a clean shelf in the pantry/mud-room /garage below 40 degrees overnight!

 

Line a colander with paper towels or cheese cloth and set over another pot or large mixing bowl. Pour stock into colander and drain, squeezing any extra broth from the vegetables as you go. Pour into a clean container and use within several days.