cardamom's Open Salon Blog

How Watermelon Saved the Day

Wed, 14 Jul 2010 09:07:02 -0400

image by wallyg

We love Washington, DC.

Since we're lucky enough to have friends who live there as well as family in Baltimore, we visit often, usually on the summer school break. We've become accustomed to slogging through the nasty humid boiling hot weather, grateful for the fountains and air-conditioned free museums studded through the tourist districts.

This year we had reserved tickets for the Washington Monument, for July 7. I had misgivings about a 3 pm tour time, the hottest part of the day, but wanted to make sure we'd have plenty of time to get there after lunch. It turned out to be the hottest day of the hottest summer ever on record. Our intrepid group - me, my husband, our 8 year old son and our dear family friend and DC resident Rob - slogged slowly across the Mall, achieved our target, viewed the city in its nasty haze from the blessedly air-conditioned top of the Monument, and all too soon were spit back out on to the griddle of DC.

Hot? We were the kind of hot that steals your cheer, melts your fun and evaporates your good will. We managed to trudge to the National Gallery, but to everyone's disappointment, arrived just before closing. The day was oozing into evening, with no relief from the heat, and four frayed souls wandered dispiritedly, dithering about what to do.

Then Rob spotted a favorite restaurant and gently herded us in. As we took our seats somewhat grumpily, he ordered watermelon agua fresca. Wow, did that sound good. I ordered one too, and so did the 8 year old, so we ended up, mercifully quickly, with a cold sweaty pitcher, the liquid's bright pink flush bringing a spark of life to our eyes. We poured, we drank.

There was silence. The deep, appreciative silence of the truly grateful. It was broken by my son, who said "I feel so much better already - this is all I really needed."

The magical restorative powers of agua fresca are well known throughout Mexico, where it is sold at stands pretty much everywhere. It can be made with cucumber, lime, peach, just about any summer fruit, but the deep summer bounty of watermelon just begs to be turned into this elixir of refreshment. It's so easy to make, too.

I vowed, while sitting there imbibing sweet relief, that I would make some every chance I had, during that short season when watermelons are everywhere, spilling from bins and truckbeds, offering their delicious, jewel-toned flesh for our delight.

image by feministjulie

Watermelon Agua Fresca

This recipe is super easy and forgiving. All you need is:

Equal parts watermelon (chunked, seeds removed) and water (or somewhat less water)
A squirt of lime juice
And if your melon is less than ridiculously sweet, a touch of sugar.

If you have a blender, whirl it up and then strain it through a sieve, pushing through as much pulp as you like. If you don't have a blender, you can do it the old fashioned way, chopping and mashing with a fork. Chill for an hour and swirl the settled fruit back into the liquid before serving.

Of course, you can make this fancier by adding black pepper or fruit masala, you can garnish with mint, or otherwise tart it up, and I'm not against that. But for the times when you're so hot your eyeballs feel like poached eggs, just keep it simple and keep it coming.

These Five Words: Jill McLaughlin's Open Call

Tue, 2 Mar 2010 17:03:40 -0500

Kissing by the fire

Cloaks gape to the spitting rain

Your gaze, so far away

Two Scenes From a Strip Mall

Tue, 1 Dec 2009 15:12:49 -0500

Scene 1 - Big Box Store

I was looking at sporting goods one Sunday afternoon. For once I'd left my son home with his dad and was enjoying a little alone time - pathetically enough, spending it in the aisles of cheap imported merchandise rather than at the library or coffeeshop, but errands needed to be done. Though it was the middle of summer, the school supply bins were on display and the patio furniture was all shoved into a miserable huddle in the back corner of the store. I noticed a well-dressed, bored little boy playing around with one of the lounge chairs. He was 8 or 10, not much older than my own son. I smiled to myself and watched out of the corner of my eye as he worked the levers, figuring out the many different positions the chair would assume.

He was dressed "for church," as they say around here, in a spotless yellow polo shirt and khaki pants. "Dad!" he called. "Dad, come check it out!" I glanced over and saw an older, silver-haired man who was perusing expensive end of season items with his well-coiffed, carefully dressed wife. They were ignoring the child so actively, I thought they must just be that sort of older couple who really hate children and noise, and were probably annoyed by the boy's loud enthusiasm. They talked over his voice, raising theirs pointedly as they discussed prices and colors.

"Dad! Dad! Lookit!" The child finally got up and trotted over to the older man, touching his arm. "Dad?"

The man rounded on the boy. "What - do - you - WANT?" he hissed, his face reddening. He glanced up and saw me looking directly at him. I was feeling the scalding memory of my own dad's dismissive hostility all too clearly, and I'm sure - I hope - that my scorn was visible.

He pulled himself tall and spoke in a nicer tone. A fake, too-nice tone. "Yes, son?" The crestfallen boy listlessly showed his dad the different positions the chair could assume while the older man feigned enthusiasm.

A moment later they passed by me. The dad's hand lay heavily on the boy's slight shoulder. In a hearty and apologetic voice (again, causing a remembered twinge in my own gut), he said "I know, who wants some ice cream?" The boy was looking at the floor. The wife caught my gaze as she trailed behind them. She looked ashamed.

Scene 2 - Second Rate Grocery

The guy ahead of me in line is tall, rangy, and red-faced in that way that laborers and dedicated alcoholics almost always are. He looks just the other side of clean and not too well fed. He is buying a meager package of chicken thighs, store brand canned soup, and cereal. He fumbles with the electronic keypad. "Debit or Credit?" the cashier asks. He mutters something and swipes the card again. "DEBIT OR CREDIT?" the cashier asks again; sharp, loud, and impatient. He waves his card in the air and yells at no one in particular "FOOD STAMPS, OKAY? Now the WHOLE STORE KNOWS I'm ON FOOD STAMPS!" He shoots a glance at me and I say quietly "You and a whole lot of other people, these days."

He completes his transaction and stomps off. I gaze at the cashier levelly, with my eyebrows raised a little. She looks uncomfortable and fluffs her crispy, frosted curls. "Well, I can't help it if he's embarrassed, can I?" she asks me. "Debit," I reply.

Foodie Tuesday Puerco Verde

Tue, 24 Nov 2009 12:11:09 -0500

Might be useful for the turkey-hating carnivores, this week...here's a crockpot recipe with lots of room for improvisation.

Inspired by this yummy recipe and remembrance from CharlieL and the fact that I wanted some nice, slow cooked pork and my mail-order Hatch green chile powder hasn’t gotten here yet.

Ingredients

1 jar of green salsa or enchilada sauce – to your taste. I like a mild or medium one, but feel free to hot it up if that’s your thing.

6 small tomatillos, quartered

1 large red onion, chopped

Several cloves of garlic, chopped; or a large plop of garlic puree

¼ to ½ cup Mole Verde, or more to taste. This can be omitted, but it adds a certain richness and complexity to the sauce.

½ to 1 Tbsp ground cumin (tastes best if you pan-roast and grind whole seeds right before using, but powder is just fine too)

½ to 1 tsp ground coriander

Salt and black pepper to taste

Pork – can be nearly any cut, around 2 pounds. Shoulder is very good, or loin if you’re trying to be lean, but make sure you don’t use a pre-marinated one. I suppose even chicken would be good, if that’s what you happen to have in the freezer when the crockpot starts singing to you. But with chicken, it’s a very different dish.

Instructions

Combine first five ingredients in a crockpot. Stir well to mix.

Add the meat, ladling some of the liquid mixture onto any exposed surface.

Leave it on high in the crockpot for at least five hours. If cooking it longer, turn it to low. Or if you are going to be out of the house all day, say 8-9 hours, just use the low setting for the entire time.

For the last hour or so of cooking, add the cumin, coriander, salt and pepper. Add some lime juice if it seems too dry (or just for the taste). For the last few minutes, turn off the crockpot and pull the meat apart into chunks with a couple of forks. Stir it down into the sauce.

I like to serve this with rice, corn tortillas or real cornbread. A sprinkling of fresh cilantro is nice (on the side, to be nice to the folks who think it tastes like dishwater).

Notes: Like all good crockpot recipes, this is subject to endless innovation. Throw in some diced carrots and potatoes, bell peppers, or some frozen corn for more of a stew. Change the Salsa, tomatoes and Mole to red, and make Puerco (or Pollo) Rojo. Add curry, wine, balsamic vinegar or pineapple if that’s your thing. You get it. As long as you don’t make it too salty or use too much liquid, it’s bound to taste terrific.

REAL Cornbread (Coyote's Skilleteers Open Call)

Tue, 10 Nov 2009 15:11:44 -0500

There's nothing like a well seasoned iron skillet.

I'd dispense with every other pot and pan in my kitchen (except for my crockpot, possibly) as long as I could keep my smooth, perfectly preserved antique 10-inch iron skillet. I cook many different things in it - frittatas and tortas, of course; also pancakes or anything else that needs a smooth, evenly heated surface such as fritters or grilled cheede sandwiches. I braise meats. I fry fish. I stand over it with corn tortillas and chunks of Oaxaca cheese while my friends snatch hot quesadillas out of my hands.

But there's something really special in the marriage of stone ground cornmeal, eggs, buttermilk, and salt. I have a stained, browning index card, covered with spidery handwriting, that is titled:

Gran's REAL Cornbread

(Not that Yankee stuff with sugar in it!)

2 cups cornmeal (white is better)

half to two-thirds cup buttermilk

1 egg, or 2 if they're small

1 tsp salt

1 tsp baking powder

2 - 4 Tbsp bacon fat (ed: you can use vegetable oil, but that wouldn't have occured to Gran)

Put the fat in your spider (ed: skillet) and heat to sizzling in a 400 oven.

Meanwhile, mix the other ingredients till the cornmeal is moistened. Not too much or it'll get tough.

When the fat is hot, pour it into the bowl and whisk into the batter

Pour batter into the skillet and bake till browned (about 20 minutes)

This is what I have come to believe is the One True cornbread. The Yankee stuff with sugar in it is still good - but tastes like cake to me, these days. :-)