Take me to the water

We drove out of the city, heading for the Delaware Water Gap area, at a friend's suggestion.

On the Delaware River, we sat on a big rock at the water's edge, and picnicked.

A toast to space and silence and turning leaves (and also to our kitty, who is still not well. No point in saying more as we don't really know more. But it weighs on us).

The oaks have not begun to turn, yet.

That is Dingman's Ferry Bridge. I lied about the silence. Cars kind of thumped across it.

The picnic. Cilantro on the sandwiches came from the Harlem terrace - it really likes cool weather. Plant it in the spring and autumn months. No bolting, then.

Below. Anyone? 

A hen of the woods chip, of course! Sadly half of them landed on the Zipcar's floor. Let's just say there was a red light incident.

To make them, clean the ears off as many hens as you have (submerge in water several times). Drain (but don't worry if they are still wet). Lay in a single layer on an oiled roasting tray. Season with salt and pepper. Roast for about 30 - 45 minutes at 400'F (turn over halfway through) or until they are turning crispy.  They will lose a lot of volume. Then watch them very carefully. They are ready when crunchy. The flavour is rich and woodsy, almost soy-like. Very surprising, I think, and very pleasing - at least to me.

I must find more.

Shiso shrimp

After lunch with my friend Laura the other day, I walked across to the Chelsea Market and visited The Lobster Place, which is crammed with gorgeous fish and with tourists looking at the gorgeous fish (they are also eating entire steamed lobster, sushi and lobster bisque).

I took home fillets of mackerel for supper, monkfish (for a dinner party), two lobes of bottarga, because we eat it only in the dark, long-night months, and two giant shrimp, for an experiment. Then I was very poor, so I went home.

The latter, above,  made a very yummy and messy shrimp starter. Sauteed with olive oil, garlic and lime juice, drizzled with a quick, fresh sauce of finely chopped shiso, mint lime, sugar and salt.

We ate the mackerel that night. I slid the fillets on a tray into the blazing hot oven, with halved Muscat grapes scattered about, a drizzle of requisite lemon and some splashes of olive oil. After 12 minutes they were wonderful, and the grapes slightly caramelized.

If that fish market were any closer, I'd be in serious trouble.

Central Park edible botanical walk

North Woods, 18 October

12pm - 2pm

Join me in Central Park's North Woods for an autumn ramble.

We will spot loads of indigenous and invasive plants with serious edible potential.

If you can't escape the city for some autumn colours, the North Woods are the next best place to be.

Come and learn to tell the good from the bad and the ugly, and practise identifying the edibles we've discussed, as we walk.

We will leave the woods briefly and cross open lawn areas...

...where quickweed and chickweed are making a fall appearance.

Which is which? Learn to tell your quick from your chick.

It is migration season for the birds that use the Atlantic Flyway, and we are likely to encounter songbirds and their friends en route south, too.

We meet at 12pm.

[This walk is FULLY BOOKED: sorry!]

May your soufflés rise to greet you

I made a larger-than-usual cheese soufflé: 6 eggs, 4 tablespoons of butter, 6 tablespoons of flour, 2 cups of microplaned cheese (well, maybe it was 3?). But we ate it all. 

The Frenchman likes the brown, crisp bits, from the edges. I like the pale, soft bits from the inside. 

He helped me whip the whites. Whisking makes me tired.

Soufflés are easy. I don't know where their bad reputation comes from. The only trick is to season it heavily before the egg whites are folded in. 

And now that we know (...) that butter and cheese are not bad for us - Like They Said (before They Changed Their Minds) - what is to stop us from eating more?

Tubers in the bank

Someone once suggested I never get my hands dirty while gardening. Someone was wrong.

I have been rooting about in pots and built-in planters, unearthing treasure. The gloriosa lilies have been yellowing and I pulled down their tired stems and leaves from the birch screen, only to find this surprise, above and below: a seed pod split open to reveal brilliance. I've never seen one, before. They obviously like the Harlem terrace.

Even better, deep in the soil, I have unearthed fresh, fat tubers. The plants have reproduced, prolifically. In previous years, in Brooklyn, these underground storage organs have just rotted over the too-cold winters, and I have had to order fresh stock every spring. But when I found one the other day by chance, I decided to investigate, farther.

After slicing two in half with a trowel (forehead-slap, doh!), I used my fingers. I don't think I'll have to order new ones next year. These are twice the size of the purchased tubers. That will be a helpful little saving (about $60 - I have ten, so far); but, better, it is fun.

The original, used-up tubers on the left.  The new, strong ones on the right. They are about 10" long.

The gloriosa lilies last June. 

If anyone would like to try their hand at propagating the seeds, let me know and I'll mail them to you.

_____________________________

My next edible botanical walk is this Saturday in Central Park

Mushroom missions

A day in advance of an edible botanical walk I did some reconnaissance in the unusually dry North Woods of Central Park. When it is practical, I try to scout ahead, so that on the day of the walk I can lead people to interesting finds.

The woods were dusty and plants drooped. Early October was parched.

A flash of orange on a log caught my eye, but, when I reached it...all gone. Someone, a day - maybe hours - ahead of of me, had found and expertly removed every last one of these chicken of the woods. So I left the woods, my tail dropping sadly.

On walk day it rained. It poured. I canceled.

But later in the afternoon the clouds held their breath and I ventured out, and back into the dripping woodland.

After twelve hours of steady rain there had been a transformation. Plants had revived. The paths were wet and smelled good. Chipmunks whistled and ferried nuts to and fro.

This is one of the woodland goldenrods. Solidago caesia, I think. I straightened up after taking this photo and saw amongst the trees beyond the flash of orange that makes mushroomers point like bird dogs.

POINT! (It helps if you've watched the movie Up!)

Ha. I was very happy that The Other Forager had missed these.

The yellow underside identifies it as Laetiporous sulphureus, which gives chicken of the woods another common name, sulphur shelf.

I've only ever eaten the mushroom in Cape Town, when we found one near my parents' house. I saw them in the Prospect Park Woods, but given the evidence left behind of the human activities that took place there I had no intention of eating anything from those logs. So this was my first New York City specimen.

I removed half the fans from that big central rosette. As it is, we have more than we can eat. (The cooking-of warrants its own post.)

Walking out of the woods I looked down to find what I was really scouting for, the choice hen of the woods (Maitake - Grifola frondosa), still dewy fresh. The first one of the season, for me. October is their month

I needed a mycologist walking-partner. Tiny orange fungi stippled tree bark.

And squeezed from cracks in logs.

 Ubiquitous turkey tails (Trimetes versicolor) frilled fallen trees, everywhere.

I walked north and home, plotting menus.

(The next Central Park wild edibles walk will be on Saturday, October 11th, 12pm- 2pm.)

Strawberry shrub

You may remember I was tinkering with a shrub recipe (drink, not woody plant!) recently, and requested help with names?

That was for a strawberry story on Gardenista today - a tale of two strawberries, and which one survived the move to Harlem. And yes, the drink has a name.

And, another yes, I still have strawberries on the terrace, right now. Well. Three. Ripe ones, I mean.

And I recently pre-ordered a copy of Michael Dietsch's Shrubs: An Old Fashioned Drink for Modern Times.  Michael is a mixmeister who writes for Serious Eats, and is married to a food blogger whose posts I've read for years, Jennifer Hess.