Scallops on a Monday

Seared scallops in a pesto reduction on mashed chive and miso potatoes, with a tomato mugwort confit.

Got my Asian Veggie haul this weekend and felt like spicing up my Monday with something a little fancier than usual.

Summer is Stir Fry Season

I don't what it is man, even during muggy Brooklyn summers I crave a stir-fry. Is it weird? Or is it just the abundance of farmer's market produce I've been hauling home?

Yes that means firing up the wok and standing over a hot stove for a couple minutes, but it's worth it to have that saucy, spicy, fresh crunch of veggies over a perfect spoonful of sticky white rice. You sweat it out, then you go for ice cream.

The only secret to nailing a stir fry is knowing the order in which each vegetable needs to go into to cook properly. Not too long or it will wilt and lose nutritional value, not too short or you miss out on that melt-in-your-mouth sweet spot that delivers maximum flavor.

I usually send in the aromatics first; onions to soften in oil for a few minutes, then the minced garlic and ginger, and whatever paste I'm using (gochugang, doubanjiang, chu hou, etc) so it fries a little. If I'm using a little ground pork (never more than 1/4lb) I throw that in too and let it brown a little, then deglaze with sake or shaoxing wine.

Then you add your vegetables in order of cooking time. Eggplant, carrots, or yams always first, especially when in chunks. Zucchini, peppers, mushrooms, the ones you want to retain a little bite or crunch, those go next. And then last you add your leafy greens, just a minute or so before adding cornstarch, soy sauce or oyster sauce (or both) mixed with a little water/stock and turning off the heat. Sprinkle some MSG if you dare.

It's the same recipe each time, just a rotating cast of different vegetables, all eager to perform their role. Served over rice, this dish comes together in 30 minutes and is easily modifiable for vegans.

Muskoka - the perfect last days of summer

I'm sitting here on the dock overlooking one of the many (many!) bays of Muskoka Lake, Ontario, comfy in a lemon yellow Adirondack chair, the sun warming my already toasted shoulders. My normally pale legs are a brown they've never been before thanks to several days of fishing for smallmouth bass in my kayak. 

I'm eating a sandwich I've made of equally wonderful parts: wholewheat bread G's mother baked last night, dill pickles his brother and girlfriend jarred a month ago, and produce all bought from the local farmer market twenty-five minutes away by car. The fizzy tart drink I'm sipping on is a mixed berry sour from Grist Iron, a spacious brewery G and I stopped at on our way up to Canada that was perched on a valley overlooking Seneca Lake. We caught the sunset there and the sky faded to layers of rich loamy blues I feel like you only ever see around upstate hills. 

A coworker kindly covered one of G's shifts last minute so we've gained two extra days up here, meaning I'll be able to spend the last few days of summer doing some more fishing, mushrooming, reading, and swimming in the lake before returning to our busy lives in the city. I miss it, but not as much as I'm enjoying being out here, feeling like an innocent kid on summer break again. 

G and his brothers all get back from a run and I watch them jump into the clear and cool water together. The dogs leap in after them, their little furry heads bobbing like otters as they paddle furiously to catch up. I take a bite of my sandwich and luxuriate.

Moka's always got her eyes on the prize