When I refer to our microfarm, I am talking about just over five thousand square feet of heirloom gardening spaces, that my husband and I have carved out, cared for, slowly added to and greatly benefitted from for the last almost decade. Our home sits on a very rural, mostly wooded, forty-five acres, so anytime we felt like we could handle a little more weeding, or heard from enough friends what a thrill it was to dig up potatoes in the fall—in went another sizeable garden space. Until we are now left with our own personal work camp in the Catskills. Collectively, this year is the largest to date. Two summers ago I was well into my pregnancy, and not so agile in the bending-digging-weeding routine. Last summer we had a seven month old son who cut our two-person-powered time to bend-dig-weed exactly in half, needing to be nursed or held or kept out of the fierce sun by one of us almost at all times. Each season we vow to go easy on ourselves. Each season we do just a little more than what would be considered sane. Compared to previous years, we felt like we had it wholly together this time, and are planted to capacity—despite the fact that the plan had been to leave our oldest and largest space empty for a season to sensibly replenish. But I once again fell victim to the gorgeous seed catalogues, web sites, and that plant pusher, Trina, at the incomparable Silver Heights Farm, and can not cut myself off once my palms get sweaty and pulse quickens. Because in the end it is about food! Food I remember from some meal, food I can’t easily buy around these rural parts, food I can’t get until this time of year, food I have been dying to try to cook with, and more than anything, food I am picturing laying out on a giant rustic white platter and presenting to a dozen or so dear friends seated around the table made of antique barn wood on our porch. How can I possibly expect to limit myself? (more…) | ||||||||||||||||
My son just celebrated his very first birthday. I was naturally flooded with an enormous range of huge emotions. But, instead of being very weepy and nostalgic for the entire month prior, staring at him constantly, willing time to stop, I instead funneled all of my sentimentalism into obsessing about his very first birthday cake. This process was not unlike trying to make each precious decision about our wedding. Would this be the best choice, that I will then look back on in a decade and remember with zero regrets and nothing but fondness? Or even more, is this the best choice of all of the options I have entertained in my mind imagining this day for the last 3+ decades? Of course, an impossible assignment. But wanting it to be a perfect day and first cake experience for him, I pored over old family recipes scribbled in pencil on cocoa-powdered index cards. My first thought was my dad's carrot cake recipe. It is spectacular. But I kept looking, and came across again Aunt Margaret's Chocolate Frosting. It is the perfect, dark, rich, everything your yellow birthday cake screams for recipe. It is one of the top three recipes in our family's repertoire. Certainly worthy of a first birthday party. I then pictured him smashing his first piece of his first birthday cake into his face with his chubby hands, and pictured dark brown Jackson Pollock's covering the walls of my grandparents' condo. (I also then remembered a first birthday I attended where the cake was red velvet, leaving the kid and high chair looking like something out of a slasher film.) So opting for a more neutral hued confection, I finally settled on the dense-banana-cream cheese-miracle that is Amy's Bread's Monkey Cake, a cake so good a dear friend recently had it for her wedding cake. Also, twelve years ago I lived right around the corner from the original Amy's Bread in Manhattan with my brother for a year, and it is a super special part of that neighborhood. Ok, so what's the point? The point is that he's one, and loved the cake, and mostly likely would have loved any cake. I loved obsessing over what to make, baking it for him, whipping the frosting, and seeing him literally lick the plate. I also loved that it was an opportunity to really go back to my cookbooks, my notes and my recipe cards and rediscover old favorites. And work on something that I was excited to share with the people I love. That, after all, is exactly why I cook.
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Help! Thanksgiving is 72 hours away and while you have been dog-earing cookbooks for weeks, shopped the weekend before, and even managed to avoid the elbow to your shoulder by the feisty octogenarian who was going to in NO WAY let you have the store's last quart of whipping cream (this actually happened to me in graduate school), you just realized that you totally forgot to plan for something to occupy your relatives while you get the food ready for the table. And so inevitably they will end up equally split between hovering directly in your path in your tiny overheated kitchen or rehashing the recent election and whatswrongwiththiscountry requiring a last-minute rearrangement of the pilgrim place cards. Again.
Oh, right, and you have overzealously planned an almost too complicated multi-course meal culled from your favorite food blogs, and have no time left in the schedule or room in the oven to make another darn thing. So, put it on toast. Or bread, or thick oat-y crackers or toasted wedges of pita. Here are a bunch of ideas, some quicker than others, for holiday-worthy crostini. If you have the time, or children with idle hands, these all look pretty assembled and arranged on a platter, particularly the repetition of the shape and colors. However, if you are pressed for time, just put all of the elements on a platter in small bowls with a heap of sliced bread rounds and your guests will love getting all interactive. If you can manage, you can slice say a baguette on a deep angle to make long elegant oval slices, maybe brush it with olive oil or rub it with garlic and toast it in a low oven on a cookie sheet. Or grill it quickly to get nice grill marks. But again, fresh sliced good crusty bread is great just as is. Also check with local food markets to see if any have frozen par-baked baguettes that you can finish in the oven yourself. Here are several ideas, but definitely come up with your own with what you have on hand. Just try to mix tastes and textures. Layer something creamy/mushy on the bottom so it all sticks to the bread, and maybe top with something crunchy or colorful, or fresh herbs. Gobble gobble.
And this roasted squash on toast recipe from Jean-Georges Vongerichten is next on my list to try. | ||||||||||||||||||||||
I have a really lovely huge piece in the current issue of the beautiful Green Door Magazine. It is on hors d'oeuvres for Thanksgiving and fall gatherings--including southeast asian pickled shrimp, turnip soup, mini endive salads, and stuffed fresh figs. Issues can be purchased online, in either print or digital, and some of my food piece can be found here. It even has Vincent D'Onofrio on the cover. Happy cooking. | ||||||||||||||||
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Catie Baumer Schwalb is a chef, food writer and photographer, who splits her life between the city and the country. Not too long ago Catie was a New York City based actress and playwright for more than a decade. She has her Master of Fine Arts from the National Theater Conservatory, and her Grand Diplôme in classic culinary arts from the French Culinary Institute in New York City.
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