Well Hung Meat

            

                                           Well Hung Meat

 

                          ...somewhere in D.C....a local sub shop.

Oh Thank You. I Love String Beans.

This past week, I have been absolutely buried in gifts from people's gardens.  It started on Friday when a coworker gave me seven pounds of string beans from his summer garden.  "Why, thank you.  I love string beans."  I spent Sunday evening snapping, then steaming them.  While I was snapping away it reminded me of how I would perform this chore for my mother since string beans were one of the first foods I was allowed to help with in the food preparation for family dinners. 

My family always had a garden, so I got in on the ground floor with this nature's bounty thing.  I would help my mother make strawberry jam in the late spring, and then in the summer we would shift to pickles (ice box, bread and butter, dill and okra),  and can tomatoes and string beans (AGAIN with the beans!),  and later in the summer and fall we would  make jams and jellies from the grape vine we had, and we would freeze peaches we'd pick from an orchard out in Maryland and corn would be shucked and frozen, and in the fall we would shell pecans and black walnuts for Christmas cooking.  If you don't know, black walnuts in their protective shell will stain your hands dark brown if you aren't careful, and they have the same effect (only worse) of henna. 

There was a lot for a child to learn in terms of what to pick and when, and having to stand in a kitchen on a hot summer day surrounded by boiling pickle spices is no treat.   We would go to apple orchards in Winchester, Virginia and bring home bushels of apples to make applesauce and apple butter...and all sorts of things.  I can remember my mother talking about what a treat it was to thaw frozen peaches and leave a little ice on them to have in the dead of winter.  For her, that was a greater luxury than caviar.   I know this sounds very "Little House on the Prairie," especially given that I was raised in the city, but this was something my mother had done with her mother, and it was passed down to me. 

  Today my brother asked me to visit him in the countryside outside of D.C., and I hauled home two bags full of lettuce, squash, herbs, tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers and yes (heavy sigh), MORE string beans.  I was given enough yellow squash to feed me for the next month, so it's either toss it, or go back over a steaming stove and then freeze it. I realize people love the whole principle of having fresh vegetables from their garden during the summer, but I think they forget a lot of it starts coming in at the same time, hence the overload.  It turns into garden refuse and "who can we dump this on."  The bounty becomes the burden.

My brother had pleaded and cajoled for me to drive out to teach him pointers on how to sell on eBay.  How little did I know the dreaded string bean lurked.  If you start seeing bags full of vegetables scattered around the city, you'll know I've been there.  I will Borf* this town with beans.  My tag?  "String Bean."

                    

                   Don't even THINK of giving me any more of these.

 

*For my out-of-town readers, Borf is a local teen who was arrested recently for smearing the city with his graffiti.

DCist: Who is BORF?

Guest Blogger: Methy

Per her fans' request, here is the recipe for Methy's party olives.                                     

                                          Methy's Party Olives

 

Lemon-vermouth green olives

Combine 3 Tbsp dry vermouth, 1 Tbsp lemon juice, 2 Tsp lemon zest, and 2 Tbsp extra virgin olive oil.  Rinse 1 cup of spanish green olives (plain, or stuffed) and pat dry.  Add olives to the marinade and toss well.  Cover and refrigerate overnight.  Serve at room temperature.

Olives with Herbs de Provence

Rinse and drain 2 cups of Nicoise or Kalamata olives.  Mix 1/2 cup olive oil, 2 Tbsp lemon juice, 5 teaspoons Herbs de Provence*, 1 clove crushed garlic, 2 teaspoons chopped fresh basil, and 1 teaspoon chopped fresh mint.  Layer olives and marinade in wide neck jar.  Add additional olive oil to cover, seal, and marinate in fridge for at least one week.    Serve at room temperature.

[*To make your own Herbs de Provence, combine 1 teaspoon each of thyme, rosemary, oregano, fennel seed, and marjoram.]

 

              

Guest Blogger: Methy

[My dear friend (blog name) Methy is a wonderfully creative cook and party giver.  This years she  once again provided the catering for the Walden School's summer fundraiser, hosted at a friend's home in the Bolton Hill neighborhood of Baltimore last month.  I'm always amazed that she creates these wonderfully thematic culinary combinations and events, yet in real life she has SUCH serious work  :/  ]  

 

                               Methy's Evening In An Italian Garden  

                          

 

  The culinary theme for the 5th annual event:  "An evening in the Italian garden - an antipasto menu".  The delectables included the following passed hors d'oeuvres...

Summer vegetables on grilled polenta... triangles of tender-crisp polenta topped with grilled eggplant, red bell pepper, squash, and fresh tomato dressed lightly with a balsamic vinaigrette

Fried calamari with ancho chile remoulade sauce... cornmeal-crusted calamari served with remoulade spiked with finely minced poblano chilies, capers, celery,onion and cornichons

Grilled Caesar "bruschetta" with artichoke mousse.... diced grilled romaine, anchovy oil drizzle, and shaved parmesan with a puree of grilled lemon-marinated artichoke hearts, atop bruschetta toasts

Italian style shrimp toasts...wedges of bread stuffed with shrimp, parmesan, parsley and thyme,  and fried golden brown, served with roasted red pepper sauce

Sausage puff pastry pizzettas... baked squares of pastry topped with pesto sauce, sundried tomato, crumbled Italian sausage, caramelized onion, and black olives

Mom's Italian meatballs....  authentic Italian meatballs with homemade Italian tomato sauce

Chicken marsala kebabs.... marsala-marinated chicken strips and mushrooms with creamy marsala sauce

Insalata Caprese skewers.... cherry tomatoes, basil and mozzarella dressed with olive oil, parsely and chives

Now, what would an antipasto party be without olives?  So we served two types:  herbs de provence marinated nicoise olives, and lemon-vermouth marinated green olives.  Rounding out the savory selection was a light and delicious tuna mousse -- spuma di tonno -- served with crackers and crudite.

For dessert, there was homemade, chocolate-dipped mini cannoli, and pear-almond turnovers -- a puree of pear, bourbon, butter and almonds encased in crispy phyllo wedges.

The fundraiser was a smashing success, with many guests expressing eagerness and suspense for next year's menu!  

 

 

 The Ten Tenors : One Is Not Enough : 'Italian Medley'

Guest Blogger: Methy

                                   Methy's New Click and Slap  Shoes*

* A huge thanks to Stare for naming slides and mules "click and slap"

To quote Stare, "They go with the bitch pants and the tops you tie at the waist like some kind of 1950's Married to the Mob wife."

        

            

 

           

 

She's got the cute pants, the cute tops, the cute shoes...now where can she go to get into some trouble?

Stare Question:  "What's that handkerchief in one shoe?  Is that for fetishists?"

Cube:  Stare!  It's tissue paper tucked in to show detail!"

Dido : Life for Rent : 'Sand in My Shoes'

 

Guest Blogger: Lori

                      

 

                         Baltimore: For Non-Baltimorons

 

 

I was born in Baltimore City, hon. I grew up down in Dundalk, a small section of Baltimore County where the hair is high, the gum chewing is loud, and becoming a good bowler is considered a lifetime pursuit.

 

 I could “pick” an entire steamed crab by myself at age 5 and I grew up delivering “Natty Bohs” to my Dad, but not before I had sucked down half the can of beer before he ever touched it.

 

 

                         

 

 

Because of all of this, I feel I am somewhat of an authority on a few of the idiosyncrasies of my hometown, but certainly not all of them. If my knowledge can help you in  any way to enjoy Baltimore more (or at least annoy my fellow citizens less) then feel free to use it. If none of it helps you or even makes sense, well you’re just not a Baltimoron.

 

To start, I fully expect to get blasted up one side and down the other for my use of the term “Baltimoron” instead of the more politically correct “Baltimorean”. I will start by explaining…

 

Baltimorons like nothing better than to destroy words. We will literally take letters and/or syllables from some words and add them to others. The best examples I can give of this addition/subtraction process are the names of our two cities: Baltimore and Washington.

 

Enough press has already been given to the habit we have of pronouncing Baltimore as “Bawlmer” or “Balmer”. I don’t know many people who have trouble saying “ti”. People who live in other parts of Maryland seem to have no trouble with it. Yet my fellow morons seem completely incapable.

 

On the other hand we add a letter to Washington. In Balmer the word Washington is frequently pronounced “Warshington.” There’s no R in Washington. I was actually surprised during my childhood when I learned how to spell the word and found out there was no R there.

 

The bonus R doesn’t just apply to DC. We add that R to any cleaning we have to do as well.

 

“Going out to warsh the car before it gets too hot outside.”

 

 “Did you warsh behind your ears?”

           

I trust you understand what I’m trying to say here.  To that end, I can justify my use of the word “Baltimoron” instead of the more common Baltimorean because it has fewer syllables. I’m almost positive they’ll turn up somewhere else.

 

 

            

                                         Charm City, Hon

 

 

(not written by Washington Cube)

Chinatown My Chinatown

I wrote out some memories of Washington's Chinatown on another blogger's site, and I thought, "Well, during these sweltering summer days, I may as well add it to mine while I think about what I want to write about next."  I'm still debating telling stories about Capitol Hill, and given the high drama of the cast of characters and events, I need to weigh the danger of saying too much on that score.

There was a restaurant in Chinatown called The Ruby.  It may still be there, but I am writing of the era when the owner remained  enthroned on H Street.  There really was a Ruby, and she always sat in the back and oversaw everything, like the Dowager Empress. She had this look on her face that perpetually glared back at you.  I half expected her to open her mouth and see a giant black pearl wedged between her teeth.  At that time, there was a small parking lot next to the building (with an attendant), and Ruby's Cadillac with personalized "Ruby" plates was always there. One nice thing about Ruby's was that it had incredibly late hours; practically all night, and if you hit there at say 3 a.m. you would see the pimps bringing in their stable of "ladies" for their evening meal. I remember the first time I witnessed this tableau, my eyes were as big as saucers while I watched the women arguing over who was ordering what, sitting there in postage stamp sized clothing just before dawn.

My friends and I mainly went to Ruby's as an after hours place, but it also had wonderful food, and may have been the first restaurant (to my knowledge) that ever served dim sum in this city. To this day, I still think they made the best hot and sour soup I've ever had.  It is so hard to find the proper balance in the vinegary sour and the heat of the peppers, and every version I've had since then leans too heavily on one or the other.  They also had this one dim sum that I've never seen anywhere else.   It consisted of a steamed squared, slice of green bell pepper topped with a shrimp puree and a shitake mushroom cap.  It was very simple, but labor intensive.  There was also a pink cocktail that had danger written all over it's innocent face.  It was called "The Ruby Gem," and it was served in a champagne glass.  It consisted of some sticky sweet fruit base that always reminded me of Hawaiian Punch, and I used to jokingly say the other ingredient was grain alcohol.  Two "Rubies", and you were gone.  Despite the night ladies with their Superfly, it wasn't as sleazy as it sounds. I used to run into famous actors and politicians having lunch or dinner in there all of the time. 

 

                                 

Now they say the new Chinatown is in Rockville, Maryland, but not that long ago, the little Mom and Pop grocery stores still existed, and I can remember stepping over drunk bodies lying on the sidewalk to go visit them.  I would visit for the Chinese New Year's festivities and see the firecrackers being set off to drive off the demons, and I tried to always visit the Chinese market prior to that day to buy up the red envelopes for money, so that I could leave an "auspicious" tip for the waiter.

                   

 

The other is a childhood memory of when my parents were invited to the grand opening of a new restaurant on H Street, and I was allowed to attend this grown-up event. At first I didn't think I would be allowed to go, because it was snowing so heavily that night. You had to climb up steep steps to get into the main dining area, and the owner's wife was going to take me downstairs into the back to see how Chinese food was cooked (a rare and first time treat).   We stopped at a circular table by the top of the stairs, and I was introduced to the then Chief of Police's wife. She was stone cold drunk and had five full cocktail glasses in front of her.  I remember her fingering the lace cuffs on my dress and being all sloppy and slurry with me, and I drew back, because she frightened me. While the adults were chatting, she got up, stumbled backwards and fell, rear ending all the way back down the stairs. She must have been loose because she survived the fall unharmed.  I still made it into the kitchen, and I remember men in this heated environment working over huge flames with these oversized woks, contrasting so vividly against the heavy snow occurring outside.  Ah...childhood....and ah...D.C.