watermelon margarita and the existential crisis

We bought a watermelon the other day. This is a very southern thing, and being a westerner, I view it with no small amount of suspicion. In the desert, no fruit would be allowed to hold this much fluid. Not without attracting all manner of beast and foul that would, eventually, spell its doom. Growing up, watermelon was something we found prepackaged in cellophane. I couldn't really figure out what it looked like until I was old enough to piece it all together.

In any case, the point here is that we bought a watermelon, and it turns out they are utter beasts. Not even eating watermelon every day put a dent in this monster. And so I lugged the half we still had up to the kitchen, pulped it, pulverized it in the blender, strained it, and then made watermelon margaritas. The formula went roughly this way:

6 oz. tequila
4 oz. watermelon essence
4 oz. lime juice
1 oz. triple sec
squeeze of agave syrup
turn of the sea salt wheel

Made adjustments with each batch, but this was bout as much as I could get into the shaker at any given time. It was heaven.

Which brings me to the existential crisis. I know this is a simple watermelon margarita, but it was the first one I had and it did not follow the crappy recipes I found online. So I'm claiming it. But I don't have a name for it. Our guests suggested a few names, all of which had my name in it. But I don't want to go there. Instead, I want something that either plays on southern or western themes. But doesn't mix them. Here's what I've come up with:

The Sound and the Fury (Faulkner)
Darl's Potable (also Faulkner)
Evening Redness (McCarthy)
Watermelon Margarita (from the interweb)

skirting the steak

The skirt steak hangs beneath the ribs, and along with the hanger and the flank is probably my favorite cut of meat not called ribeye (or tenderloin, although it's been so long I don't even recall what it tastes like). I'm actually a huge fan of the flavorful cuts, and enjoy playing around with them. The similarities between the skirt and the hanger are remarkable. They both carry a distinctive texture, on the tougher side and certainly chewy, but nothing like the leathery brisket. Their flavor is deep and rich, almost organ-like.

I have no recollection of ever cooking a skirt, although my blog tells me I had skirt steak fajitas in January of 2011. Now I will buy them regularly. They are cheap. They are delicious. They take marinades well. They go great with any variety of sides, especially greens.

I eyeballed a rub of kosher salt, paprika, ancho chili powder, and brown sugar. Then I patted the rub on the steak and let it sink in while I chopped an onion. I mixed about a quarter onion with crushed garlic and several tablespoons of lime juice, then dumped the sauce on the steak in a plastic bag. Off to the fridge. Took it out about an hour before cooking.

The grill spiked the temp gauge (again), but I'm pretty sure that it was close 950 degrees. It actually had come back down to 750 by the time I put the steak on. The grill was hot, and I did season it with olive oil.

I had no timer, but I let the steak sit uncovered over the coals for about a minute and a half aside, or at least what felt like a minute and a half a side. Then I closed the grill and shut down the vents for another couple of minutes. Steak was done pretty much perfectly.

steaks and a simple rub

Alright, my camera does not take closeups well

It's been a while.

We pulled two ribeyes for grilling. Some aspects of the grilling went quite well, others not so much. I will indicate here in bold what steps I did not do that I ought to have done, but otherwise will try to treat this as the definitive big green egg backdoor steak grilling guide.

One point: I'm finding that rubs ought not to be too complicated. One maybe two herbs. My new french thyme ought to go well with this.

1. start the fire. It will likely take more than half an hour, and the coals should be evenly lit and white all over. I am now consistently getting the egg to temperatures of above 800 degrees (I'm pegging the needle past 750, so I don't really know how hot it is), and the result is excellent. Make sure the grill gets white hot before you add the steaks.
2. try to get steaks that are at least 1 1/2 inches thick. This round was 1 inch at best. Actually, everyone around me seems to prefer the 1 inch. I prefer my steaks thicker, as I like the difference in texture from crust to slightly cool center. In any case, the directions here are for 1 inch steaks.
3. prepare a rub with ample olive oil, cracked pepper, chopped rosemary (or equivalent chopped herb), and kosher salt. Now give the steaks a shiatsu. Top with garlic salt, but only a thin layer.
4. slash the edges of the steak. They will curl if you neglect to do this.
5. Prepare the timer and get to the grill.
6. hit them hard, over direct heat, for 1:45 each side. 
7. On the second flip, turn the steaks (crosshatching the grill marks), and close up the vents. The egg will belch smoke out of any hole it can find.
8. After 3 more minutes, carefully open vents, burp grill, then open. Flip the steaks over, then close up the vents again.
9. After 3 more minutes, the steaks are ready. Let them sit for five minutes (at least) before serving.

sizzazzle

This is probably quite close to the last set of directions I posted. I have tried different manners of "closing the vents." This time I put the green lid on the top (completely closing it) and left the bottom open. The second time around I closed both. I can't say I'm completely happy with the results, but only because the grill markings were uneven (probably the result of not using enough charcoal to create an even fire) and one of the steaks curled a bit. I do believe that a thicker steak, properly slashed and with a good coal bed underneath it would end up with a happier result.

An ill omen indeed

This morning I fertilized the tomato plants, spreading nearly two gallons over all of them. This represents the heaviest fertilizing I have completed to date. But given that the soil must be weakening and the plants are getting ready to bear fruit, I was anxious to accelerate the fertilizing schedule and increase its volume.

I fertilized at about eight thirty this morning. I should have done it earlier to avoid even more evaporation. When I left the house at nine, the smell of fish emulsion was still heavy in the moist morning air. Will water tomorrow to counteract our droughty conditions.

Also, I saw this sign on my way to work today. I'm still puzzling over it. In relation to my garden, this might be an omen. My second crop of tomatoes may disappoint. Or perhaps the lettuce I plan to plant next weekend will not take. Maybe the squirrels will tighten their racket and take a larger share. I feel oddly concerned.

garden update

The Sunny Boy plant, rolled over

 I have posted several times about the out of control tomato plants, and have now come to grips with the fact that all of this really is my fault. As a horticulturalist, I am a failure at best. My only consolation is that the mammoth fruit the plants produced have kept me and my neighbors and my friends happily munching on salad caprese, BLTs, and just plain tomatoes ever since late June. With the current crop starting to vine ripen, the party might keep going until November. So I don't feel too bad about failure in this case. But, time to reflect.

The squirrel's share at mid-center

This Cherokee Purple is the size of two fists. I shall name it "two fists"

• Plant two determinate vines, one as early as possible and another one month later. Put them in cages and keep them away from the other plants. My orange blossom tomatoes were the first to arrive and were delicious. I would have loved to have them about two weeks earlier than they did arrive, and would love another batch right about now. The determinate vines produce a huge bunch of fruit all at once. They are great for gift baskets, and they would enable me to keep a more steady crop going.

Barbarella out on the town

•  Stake the vines, dammit. Tomato cages are useless (except for the bushier determinate vines). I need a real stake, not the fake bamboo junk I was hustled into. I need at least six feet of stake above ground to house these monster plants. 
• Once staked, trim so that the plant grows along the stake. This involves pulling off the suckers and making sure the plant doesn't veer off in one direction or the other. 
• I know the above two points are elementary. I had read them before I planted. But last year I survived on cages, so it was stubbornness rather than stupidity that led me to try and cage these beasts.

Bell's early orange, not quite early, but orange-y

• This year I planted one cherry (Juane Flamee), one grape (sweet olive), one determinate (Orange Blossom), and four beefsteak style plants (two Cherokee Purples; Mortgage Lifter; Sunny Boy). 
• Next year plant at least two cherry/grape plants, two determinate plants, and at least five other heirloom varieties. Cherokee Purple is a must. 
• Maybe avoid the eggplant next year. Although it is beautiful.
• Need. more. peppers. Hot and sweet. A full row next year. These plants could take the cages.

the peach and the fugitive

I never knew the peach before arriving in East Point. Of course, I had bought peaches before--sad, shriveled creatures picked well before their prime and aged in corporate grocery distribution centers before being stocked in a well-lit produce section. I liked them in pies well enough, but couldn't really stomach them as fruit. They lacked any tartness, any character, and the sweetness never seemed to make up for its mealy texture and lack of balance.

But then I came here, and I hit a peach orchard. The score was a complete bucket full of Elberta Reds, picked mainly by my little traveler. And the bounty was good. The sweetness of these peaches sat inside a firm and meaty texture. Suddenly I was eating peaches every day. Devouring them whole. Taking them with me to work. Sweating for the next score.

Which brings me to peach syrup. I pick my peaches at Gregg Farms, a quaint orchard in Griffin County. In addition to peaches, blueberries, and corn, patrons can buy peach ice cream, peach jelly, peach preserves, jalepeno-peach jelly, and a variety of pickled goods like chow-chow. And, I discovered on the last trip, peach syrup. It sits in a beautiful tabasco-style bottle and sports a rather cozy looking cinnamon stick.

So, for the summer's last fling, I will need to make a peach cocktail. My default would be a rather boring "rum peach": dark and light rum; peach syrup; lemon juice, garnished with a cinnamon stick. I haven't tried this, but I assume it would be good. But I've also found this one on Esquire Magazine: David Brown's Bitter Peach:

• 1 oz Gran Classico Bitter
• 1 oz lemon juice
• 1 oz peach syrup
• 1 small egg white
• Dash Peychaud's Bitters
Combine ingredients, except for Peychaud's Bitters, with ice and shake vigorously. Strain into a chilled cocktail coupe. Top with Peychaud's Bitters.

Results will be forthcoming.

Aquavit

My globe-trotting correspondent Katy Gunn has recently asked for aquavit recipes. To my shame, I have never had aquavit, so I cannot make any solid recommendation. All I know about this Scandinavian staple is that it is grain based, but usually herbed with caraway, dill, or anise, rather than the juniper flavor that accompanies gin. Most of the first recipes I have found treat it like gin, combining it with all manner of sweet and fruity liqueurs and lemon juice to achieve either a martini-like or collins-like drink. Without tasting it, I can go no further. So let the games begin.

Norwegian 'Brunost' Brands

Just a little post for the Fugitive Professor and others that are interested from the first Norwegian post - these are the brands of 'Brunost' (Norwegian Brown Cheese) I have seen in the supermarket here in Andalsnes (Norway). All these are slightly different. The brand seems to be consistent (Tine).

Remember to make your pancakes extra sweet - just shove a slice of this cheese into a folded over pancake. Great dessert after lunch!

Lutefisk and other Norwegian Traditional Curiosities

Another glorious hike we took yesterday led me to this stunning view of the mountains and valley we live around in these here parts:

At one point it got a bit treacherous and I found myself reduced to a quivering helpless baby as I clung to rocks around me, sweaty hands and all, looking to either side and viewing a drop that could easily have resulted in 'the end' of Katy Gunn.. My boyfriend helped me up without any fear and once in a safe location I proceeded to cry as I expunged the panic attack I repressed while climbing. Still, ALL WORTH IT. :)

As I look down from the cliff top, I see water so clear and blue it makes me want to dive down and swim around in it. Norwegians obviously love their nature too. The mountain behind our apartment is visited daily by locals who climb to the top as part of their weekly (if not daily) exercise. We passed an older gentleman in his late 60s hiking down the long trail we did - roughly a 6 hour hike - wow. I can only hope my body is in such good working order at his age. Norwegians clearly have a true love for nature and the experience of being out in it. Their traditions have also grown out of the environment in some curious ways. 

There is tradition in culture, and then there is the evolution that takes us beyond that, bringing new practices into place. Both, I believe are important. Tradition reminds us that humans have been through a lot, and a ritual has been created to remind us of what is important. This serves us for both psychological and emotional reasons I find, and we are losing connection with tradition more and more as technology invades every aspect of our lives. Evolution of tradition also breaks us free of old mind-sets, moving us into an improved, more forward-thinking future as a species. This is essential to better living and I'm behind it all the way.

And on that note, I will now bring up Lutefisk. People from Minnesota with a Scandinavian background are sure to chuckle as I write this or at the very least know what I speak of. For centuries Norwegians have dried cod - as did the other Scandinavians - and have eaten Lutefisk. But Lutefisk is not dried cod. Lutefisk is the result of a process involving cod that frankly, I do not find so appealing :) First you take the dry cod - then you soak it - a LOT - for days in water. Then you soak it again in a water and lye solution for several MORE days until it loses half its protein content resulting in a sort of gelatinous meat state. Soak again in water. I feel like I'm repeating myself, but I have to, because this is the process. Mmmmmmm. By the way - Lutefisk is the result of all this soaking and that is how you buy it from the grocer. This is not a process I would recommend trying at home. :)

Should I try preparing this 'fish' with some sort of side? My boyfriend wrinkles his nose and shakes his head 'no'. I'm inclined to follow his lead. How did Scandinavians come up with this one? There are many folk tales involving vikings, etc. as to why the fish met the lye solution resulting in this. None of them are known to be true. :) I AM curious how this came about, but for now it is a mystery. I think I'd rather try and catch a fish - a practice I find many other Norwegians doing on the beaches here in Andalsnes. 

Dried and salted cod or 'Klippfisk' as Norwegians call it is made here and exported - Spain consumes a lot of it - I remember eating many 'bacalao' dishes while I was in Sevilla (dried cod in a tomato sauce). Dried cod has apparently been on the market for over 500 years, although now due to overfishing, other white fish have replaced it somewhat (stockfish). Traditionally the fish was hung in droves near the sea and dried in the open air. Then came the salt to make it tastier, and now it is often dried in an electrically heated room (hello technology). It is used in a variety of world cuisines - Jamaican, Portuguese, Brazilian, Spanish dishes… The Norwegians are famous for exporting it. 

Of course, being in a small village it appears my options are limited in terms of getting a variety of fresh fish, which is a big part of Norwegian cuisine. If you go to other coastal cities (Sandefjord, Trondheim, Bergen, Oslo, etc.)  I'm sure there is more to choose from. So far, it appears that Norwegian cuisine, like many others I have tried, is based first on the fundamental fresh foods found or farmed here in nature - the fish, berries  (we picked wild blueberries on our hike up the mountain), plants, animals that appear and then altered slightly (cured meat, or dried fish), then put into dishes. As with any culture that is lifted up economically, many more creative versions of traditional cuisine appear, and I'm certain I will run into those as I branch out to other locations. 

For now, I'm content having my summery open-faced sandwiches for lunch - smoked Mackerel with pepper and chili flakes with tomato, or salmon with fresh goat cheese and cucumber, dill on top, shrimp sandwich, etc. - a good break from songwriting, indeed. Above all the big message staying here has been NATURE - soak it in. Get outside - breathe the fresh air, eat the fresh food around you and enjoy the glorious view. Heaven I tell you. :)

fertilizer

boring post--just to record that I fertilized the rest of the garden today: peppers, eggplant, roses, etc. Everything I missed last week.

The last Cherokee Purple of the first harvest are ripening on the vine. I've nicknamed one of them Baby Jesus. It's fabulous.