This year, my family decided to do a potluck Thanksgiving meal. But rather than leave it to chance, my aunt and uncle assigned everyone a dish or two to bring. I lucked out and got sweet potatoes.
Just kidding, I hate sweet potatoes.
I'm much more into savory than sweet, and, for whatever reason, my cold northern blood curdles at the idea of spooning flabby, orange, molasses-soaked mash into my mouth. But after about a week of stewing, I decided not to make a stink about it. I'd just find a way to make a sweet potato even I could love.
Vermont has no South Indian restaurants, save for Brattleboro food truck Dosa Kitchen. So this weekend, I headed across the border for an overdue megadose of fiery flavors at Thanjai Restaurant in Montréal.
The owners of the 2-year-old restaurant, Geetha Kumaresan and her husband, Kumaresan Muthukrishnan, bill Thanjai as Montréal's first authentic South Indian restaurant. What's the difference between the kormas and masalas many of us are familiar with and food from Kerala, Tamil Nadu and Andra Pradesh? The southern states stay cool by avoiding creamy sauces and amping up the heat. Think of it as a leaner, meaner Indian food.
Sometimes, a name as simple as "The Diner" tells you all you need to know about an eatery. You can expect hearty portions of eggs and hotcakes, milkshakes and waitresses who call you "hon'." All those things flow freely at Middlebury's newest entry in the genre, but its simple name doesn't do it justice.
In April, Caetlin Harwood and Carl Roesch took over the 1930s Val-Do-Mar Diner, most recently known as Steve's Park Diner. They brought with them an eclecticism uncommon at greasy spoons.
Specialties include huevos rancheros and "Green Eggs & Ham" colored with pesto. The diner's version of steak and eggs replaces the former with braised short ribs.
But the quirkiest options are on the menu's stuffed French toast section. The Elvis predictably includes peanut butter and bananas. The Popper merges cream cheese, bacon and jalapeño jam in a take on jalapeño poppers in French toast form. But we just had to try the Captain ($8.95).
'Tis the season when markets are few and far between, and when farm stands tend to close at dusk, which comes earlier every day. That makes it tough to get farm-fresh vegetables with any frequency, except from the grocery. The good news is, autumn's harvest keeps for weeks, so you can stock up without fear of spoilage.
Right now, my crispers are stuffed with carrots from my last trip to mom's garden, beets from the Intervale's Half Pint Farm (from a weeks-ago trip to City Market), aging celery and a box of cranberries from Cranberry Bob. On the counter, my bowl of onions, garlic and shallots overfloweth.
A while back, I made a bunch of pie crusts and froze a few for a lazy day when I wanted pie, and, wanting to do something fun with this assortment of cool-weather produce, I threw together a quick (and beautiful!) savory galette with some cheese.
Like most of my farmers market recipes, this one is endlessly tweakable — mix and match the roots, swap shallots for onions or cheddar for pecorino (these will behave differently when baked but both will work), and voila! An impressive but easy supper awaits.
Here at the Seven Days food desk, we're on a bit of a taco kick. So when I planned a Sunday Supper the same week as a big taco feature, I couldn't resist the pull of a Mexican(ish) taco night.
My guests' diets ranged from gluten-free vegan to staunch meatatarian, and I wanted to feed everyone with minimal preparation, since I only had a couple hours to put it all together. So I took a lesson from Peter Berley's Flexitarian Table cookbook and created a recipe that would work for meat and veggies simultaneously.
I missed the Burlington Winter Farmers Market on Saturday, but my mom gave me several pounds of garden carrots, and a quick stop at Montpelier's Hunger Mountain Co-op yielded two supple, thick-cut London Broil steaks from Boyden Farm in Cambridge. Coated in a spicy chile-cocoa mixture with salt and slow-roasted at a low temperature for a couple hours, both the roots and the beef made a singing base for the taco feast.
And, stuffed into tortillas beneath a cool spread of chopped lettuce, tomato, cheddar, sour cream and salsa (among other accoutrements), the spice level kept to a quiet but satisfying hum.
I love getting tips from readers. Especially when those tips are about gyros. A couple of weeks ago, a listener called during my weekly Wednesday segment on "Charlie + Ernie + Lisa in the Morning!" on WVMT to tell me the pizzeria that opened in August in Williston was serving the Greek wraps. I wasted little time motoring to Williston House of Pizza for a taste. Challenge accepted.
The strip-mall pizzeria didn't look much different from its other iterations as Rocky's NY PIzza and Vermont Pizza Company. But the pizza did.
On Route 100 just north of Waitsfield village, Hartshorn's Farmstand offers a wild proliferation of root-cellar vegetables, squash in particular. Bins along the outside of the stand overflow with butternuts, acorns, hubbards, kabochas, delicatas, and — my personal favorite — buttercups.
I am fond of the buttercup for its rich, creamy flesh, subtle nutty flavor and relative ease in handling. Unlike the hubbard, which I also adore, the buttercup grows to a manageable size, cooks fairly quickly and is easier to slice without losing a finger to the knife.
And, when split in half and stuffed, these make a lovely entrée; they can also be cut, post-cooking, for a fine side dish. Either way, with fresh Vermont cranberries from Cranberry Bob, and sage, sausage and coconut, these stuffers make for a homey but interesting November meal. What's more, the recipe is vegan but for the sausage (and gluten-free!), so it's friendly for pretty much anyone.
The recipe can also be endlessly adapted: Substitute the sweet breakfast sausage for spicy andouille or chorizo, grapes for the cranberries, pears for the apples or rosemary for the sage. It's all good.
There are sacrifices involved in living in Vermont, to be sure. I recently wrote about the hardship of life without a good Indian buffet nearby. While I was stuck home writing a book through the summer and fall, I haven't had time to get to Montréal for dim sum. It's been painful. On Sunday, I finished that book, but I also couldn't wait anymore. I headed to A Single Pebble for its version of the comfort-food assault I'd been missing.
I'd only been once before, years ago when I still had the alternative of Zen Gardens, still my go-to for authentic Chinese, though it no longer serves dim sum. Unlike the format at Zen Gardens that had involved ordering specific dishes from a menu, A Single Pebble's method is more a micro version of what one would see in Hong Kong — or Montréal. Rather than multiple carts full of goodies, a single server brings forth a basket with a few revolving specialties as they emerge from the kitchen. She makes a check mark on your bill under the item's price each time you order.
Most of what we chose were in the "dumpling category," meaning they cost $5.99 a pop. Big-city dim sum eaters will likely cringe at this expense. I had to remind myself repeatedly that most of the dim sum I've eaten has been made from anonymous animals stacked on a truck from who knows where. At a Single Pebble, owner Chiuho Duval has local animals raised specifically for the restaurant at at LaPlatte River Angus Farm.
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