Braised Sauerkraut and Bratwurst

In my last post I mentioned how nice it would be to have a summer kitchen for when canning or cooking are too hot or smelly to be done indoors. Almost immediately after that it occurred to me that we can and do cook outdoors and I'm not talking about the grill. Last evening I wanted to make some braised sauerkraut but didn’t want to risk another case of “outhouse kitchen”--Enter the Dutch oven!

 

I started by setting up a cooking area on our patio. I laid out some of the leftover pavers we've got lying around to make an elevated, fireproof platform for the coals. Cooking directly on the patio would have scorched it. When we are camping and cook in the Dutch oven we just place the coals directly on a patch of bare ground.

 

We had just enough charcoal left over to do one round of cooking. For dishes that take more than an hour or so, we usually end up lighting a new batch to replace the burned down coals but I didn't anticipate needing to do that with this dish. I piled them up and put a match to them. We've always used briquettes because Dutch oven cooking recipes are often calibrated to the number to use. There is a bag of real hardwood charcoal laying around here somewhere and I'm thinking some time I may give it a try and see how the process compares. Incidentally, it was about this time a light breeze kicked up and I was starting to question the wisdom of doing this with a thick layer of dry leaves all over the back yard.

 

While the coals were starting I assembled the first ingredients in the Dutch oven. The full recipe is at the end of this post.

 

When the coals all had some ash on them I arranged two thirds in a rough circle just a bit smaller than the Dutch Oven. They're spaced so they aren't touching so air can circulate. This particular Dutch oven has three short legs that elevate it just above the coals. The one we us indoors in the oven doesn't have legs.

 

The Dutch oven is placed on the cooking area and the remaining third of the coals arranged evenly around the edge of the lid. As you can see, this oven has another feature the one for indoor use lacks. There is a lip around the edge of the lid to hold the coals on. Heating from both the top and bottom are probably more important when baking, but I thought since it was getting cold out a little extra heat wouldn’t hurt.

 

Meanwhile back in the kitchen, we unwrapped the much-anticipated special ingredient. At yesterday’s Market we picked up a package of smoked bratwurst from Pecatonica Valley Farm. 

 

To get a little extra flavor out of the brats we seared them a bit –in cast iron, of course, but they were on the dry side and I think if I were to do this again I’d skip this step. It really didn’t seem to add anything to the dish.

 

By this time the sauerkraut and friends had been bubbling for a while. No foul odors, by the way, were detected!

 

I sliced up the brats into thirds and nestled them into the kraut to share flavors for a while.

 

The final result, served with a delicious mound of garlicky mashed potatoes was a hearty, seasonal and satisfying meal.

 

Dutch Oven Braised Sauerkraut and Bratwurst

Ingredients

• 1/2 White Onion, Sliced
• 1 Pint Home-Fermented and Canned Sauerkraut (substitute other if you absolutely must)
• 1/2 Cup Local Beer
• 1 1/2" Cups Chicken Stock
• 1/2 to 1 teaspoon Caraway Seed
• 1/2 teaspoon Dried Thyme
• Black Pepper to Taste
• 2 Delicious, Local, pasture-raised-pork bratwurst

Method

Start and arrange coals as described above. You will need sixteen coals for under the oven and seven for the lid, a total of twenty-three.

Place sauerkraut in a colander or strainer and rinse off salty brine. Add to Dutch oven along with the beer, stock, herbs and pepper.

Place oven on coals. Note: Do not preheat oven and then add cold ingredients. Shocking the hot metal thusly just isn’t good for it. Allow to simmer for 15-20 minutes.

Slice bratwurst into thirds and add to simmering sauerkraut. Allow to simmer for an additional 2o minutes.

Serve with a delicious starchy side dish and more local beer.

 

Serves 2

Lima Beans

This year I grew lima beans. On purpose. They're also known as butter beans or butter peas.

I can't remember if they were seeds I purchased myself or got from my garden guru. They were called 'White Dixie Butter' and I find it hard to resist anything with butter in the name, especially a bean. I planted them fairly late compared to the other beans since I planned on picking them as shell beans and didn't worry too much about them reaching the dry stage. I didn't pay a whole lot of attention to them, just noticing that they'd bloomed and that pods were forming. Then a few days ago I finally looked up when they should be harvested. I read that they are good when the pods are fatter but not too yellow. Next time I was in the garden I pinched a few pods and could feel the little tell-tale bumps but they weren't what I would call fat. Then I noticed that some pods were dry and brown and a few had been chewed by pests. Popping open one of the fatter pods I was reminded that lima beans are flat compared to the other beans I grow. I looked over the small patch and decided rather than go over them every day or two looking for all the "just right" pods that enough were ripe or beyond. In cut all the plants at the base and brought them home. It was much more comfortable sitting on the deck stripping the pods off the plant than it would have been crouched in the garden.

The co-conspirator pitched in sorting the dry from the fresh pods--which included a number of under-ripe ones and we got to work shelling. In the end, knowing how many seeds I planted that actually grew into plants that produced beans and how much we ended up with I calculated a yield of nearly one hundred-twenty five times what was planted. Had I not wasted some that weren't ripe that number doubtless would have been higher! It occurred to me that the quick bean counting I did a while back was in error. I didn't account for the fact that not all the bush beans planted grew and produced. Beans are often touted as one of the most productive crops you can grow. I know I'm convinced.

"Pick 'em, hull 'em, put on the steam. That's how we fix butterbeans!"

A Day on the Farm

Yesterday we had the pleasure of visiting the source of one of our Farmers' Market staples. When we learned that REAP Food Group was having a "Day on the Farm" event at Dreamfarm, just outside of Cross Plains, we signed up right away. Dreamfarm, which is operated by Diana and Jim Murphy and their family produces several delicious goat cheeses we buy all through the season. They also sell eggs from the hens they raise on their twenty-five acre organic farm.

All of their chickens are kept outside on pasture. At night they move into white hoop houses that have laying boxes in them. They're allowed to scratch and feed and cluck contentedly until the area starts to show some wear and then the hoop house and fence are moved to the next area to allow the previous one to regenerate before being grazed again.

The Murphys have several breeds of chickens, one of which is the Bovan which they get from an Amish supplier in my home town. They're a reddish brown color and are reportedly good egg producers. I think they're just beautiful. When it comes time for us to get some chickens, it's going to be hard to choose among the various breeds available.

A little farther down the valley from the chicken pastures is a group of beehives. These aren't the Murphy's. They belong to someone else who is keeping them on their land. Jim said he might get bees of his own some day, but only to produce honey for himself and not for the market.



Back up the hill we met, to me, the real stars of the farm livestock. Right now they are milking twenty-four goats to produce their cheeses. The herd is a mix of breeds--Jim mentioned Nubians and Alpines but I missed the rest. They're bred yearly and the kids are mostly sold, although it sounds like they may try to increase their pasture space to keep more of them in the future.

Right next door is a small flock of Jacob's sheep. This is an ancient breed they keep to preserve the genetic stock. The spotted fleeces are used to produce a range of colors. A spinner/knitter demonstrating on the farm told me she sorts the colors to produce different colored yarns. Look at all those horns!

After viewing all this livestock, it was time for lunch! The meal was prepared by several Madison restaurants. It included a fresh green salad with summer squash, a beet salad with peas, green beans and dill, chicken shawarma, lamb kofta, hummus, tabouleh, and kind of a "heap o' gyro" with goat meat from the farm. I washed it down with a cold glass of rhubarb lemonade, something I've got to try making myself.

Just as I was saying it would be nice to have something sweet to follow up that hearty, spicy lunch we happened on the tent where they were serving goat milk gelato! We each got a scoop of plain and one of cajeta which is a cooked, carmelized goat milk essentially like dulce de leche. Fresh local berries, a sprinkle of granola and a drizzle of honey topped it all off. It. Was. Fantastic!

Sweet tooth satisfied we then joined the first of the formal tours of the farm. The tour started with a visit to the cheesery. Diana ran us through the process of how she makes her different cheeses. It's a painstaking process that requires a lot of skill and knowledge. She told us how the pasteurizer works and the differences in how the fresh and aged cheeses are made. It's all hand work and lots of it. Several years ago we attended the premier of a documentary film called "Living on the Wedge." It's about artisan cheesemakers in Wisconsin. I remember Diana making an appearance in the film just when she was working on the intern stage, I believe, of her cheesemaking education. It's so awesome now to see her producing and marketing such superior products on her own farm.

Visiting Dreamfarm reminded me how easy it is to get caught up in romantic fantasies about what country living is. The bucolic scenery and serene livestock can lull you into believing just shucking off the city life and retreating to "a place in the country," as the Co-Conspirator and I now refer to our hypothetical destination, will lead only to restful satisfaction. But we really do know better. I only had to get a whiff of the air in one of those chicken houses to be transported back to my younger days hauling water and feed to a flock of chickens. Farming is hard, endless work. My hope is that in the easygoing events of the day the message still gets through and that the guests to the farm appreciated what goes into what the farm produces. Bon appetit and thank a farmer.

A Little Appetizer

Sunday was oppressively hot so naturally I decided to go the the garden and take care of a few tasks. I'd been reading up on when to harvest garlic since our plants were showing signs of slowing down. Bottom leaves were browning and drying up as were the tips of most of the rest of the leaves. I decided to take a chance and harvest the whole crop. I'd dug a couple of bulbs over the past week or so and they seemed ok. In the end, counting the two early harvests we ended up with forty-three bulbs from the forty cloves we planted. I think that's a pretty good success rate. The three double bulbs were all the same variety.

In the process of digging them up, I nicked one of the bulbs. Since it wouldn't keep for long in its damaged condition, I went ahead and roasted it in a little olive oil. The resulting, sweet/savory paste inspired me to make a little appetizer that ended up comprising most of my dinner. I toasted a couple slices of some grainy bread from Clasen's which I then further browned in a pan with some olive oil. Honestly, Clasen's makes some decent pastries, but their country style breads really are the Wonder Bread of artisanal loaves. But, they were two for the price of one so how could I pass that up? Additional heat helps.

I plucked some basil from the pot on the deck and sliced up a tomato from Flyte Family Farm. After spreading the lucious garlic paste on the bread I layed on the tomato slices, sprinkled with some basil ribbons and hit with another drizzle of olive oil. The bread was still too soft, but on the other hand it didn't shatter and send the toppings flying. I would definitely make this again but with a heartier bread.

Making it Up as I Go Along

Last night I came back from the garden with a random load of produce and no real plan what to have for dinner. The only thought I had was that I should cook some collards because, dangit! we've got a lot of collards. I decided a savory, flavorful braise was probably the way to go. Scouting through the fridge and pantry I assembled some ingredients I thought might work together.


For aromatics I grabbed one of the white onions from the garden and a clove of garlic from the Westside Community Market. Braising liquid would come from the tomatoes, also from the Market, and a super special rare ingredient. The jar contains tomato pepper water. When I make salsa I like it to be chunky. The problem with that is that in processing, a lot of water is forced out of the vegetables. Now, when I open the jar, I drain the salsa and keep the flavorful liquid for other purposes such as this.



The results were pretty tasty but I couldn't eat it all. I'm sure it will be good left over.

My second course starred fava beans. I wanted them to really be the center of attention so I paired them very simply with some French sorrel and scallions.



A lightly fried the onions in olive oil and then added the beans, tossing frequently to get them warmed--they were already cooked in the blanching/peeling process--and then allowing a little caramelization before I tossed in the chiffonaded sorrel. The herb may have cooked a little too much but it provided a tangy addition to the dish.

Tapas Night!

When no specific dinner plan is in mind and the time to dine draws near, a familiar call is heard throughout the neighborhood--"Tapas Night!" Tapas Night is our cop-out excuse for throwing together leftovers on little plates. No, wait, I take take that back. At one time that might have been true, but I dare say the co-conspirator and I have evolved as cooks and, frankly, Tapas Night has become an opportunity to try out new tastes and small bites from whatever the fridge, pantry and garden present us. Tonight's was no New Year's Eve, but it was still pretty special.

After work I went up to the garden to take care of a few things and brought home a bit of the produce. When I got home we talked about dinner, a dish I had an idea for, and the fact that we really didn't have much of a plan beyond that. Activate Tapas Night. Sorry about the pictures, though. I was more into cooking than paying attention to lighting so most of these suck. I'm not a food stylist so if you have any suggestions on the light and color problems I'd be more than glad to hear them.

The dish I had planned on making was a chilled fava bean and pea soup inspired by our visit last weekend to Nostrano. My recipe was not much like theirs, but I think it showcased the flavor of the legumes. I started with the beans I had previously shelled plus the ones I picked tonight by giving them a long blanch in salted water. They then popped easily out of their skins and into a mason jar.



"Why a mason jar?" you may ask. I shall tell you. We learned recently that the base doohicky on our blender is threaded to match such jars and so is handy for making small batches of things like salad dressings and soups. Cool!





The favas were pureed with some peas (some from the garden, some from the freezer), mint, yogurt, salt and water. The result was delicious! The bean flavor was at the forefront. I served it in my grandmother's coffee cups. More on those at a later date.



Meanwhile, on another stretch of the kitchen counter the co-conspirator was whipping up something with little potatoes left over from the Fourth's potato salad and some cherry tomatoes from the Westside Community Market.

The par-boiled taters were given a quick roast in the toaster oven...



...while a tomato sauce was simmering on the stove.



The sauce (based on a recipe in The New Spanish Table) had a nice smoky note from the smoked paprika. We could have used some more potatoes!



Meanwhile, some less-than-baby carrots were waiting. After pruning and tying up the tomatoes, picking the favas and watering the cukes, I thinned the carrots--a task I'd forgotten to do for too long. Consequently I had a handful of carrots that were too big to throw away and just right for a simple small plate creation.



I lightly steamed them with some fresh chervil I'd picked on the outside chance we'd need it for dinner. Incidentally, I steamed them with some of the already hot water I'd used to blanch the fava beans. It had turned red! What's up with that?



Served with a pinch of sea salt smoked over Welsh oak, they were delicious. The marked difference in flavor between the orange carrots and the yellow carrots made me wonder why anyone would bother to grow the latter, which were part of a gimmicky "rainbow carrots" seed blend.



Meanwhile the zenith of our Tapas Night feast was being prepared on the sidelines. Half of our sweet basil plants have decided to be anemic, pathetic wastes of chlorophyll. The rest, on the other hand, are growing like kudzu and threatening to flower. I reined them in by harvesting a respectable number of stems this evening. Call us unimaginative, but pesto is the first thing that came to mind.



But what to pair it with? Pasta was suggested but quickly abandoned. Why not just sauce it on some sauteed shrimp? OK. Sounds good. Better than good.



The result was a perfect blend of the sweet seafoodiness of the shrimp and the savory, herbal contribution of the basil.



Now that we're in what I like to call "High Summer" here I'm looking forward to more spontaneous, experimental cooking events. The volume and variety of fresh ingredients that are available now is inspiring. Sometimes we like to put together a more normal main dish/side dish/salad dinner and that's fine. But when we've got the time, energy, ingredients and ideas it's way fun to just go with what we've got and savor the results.

Pork Satay

OK, dinner. How'd we do, locally speaking? Before dinner our happy hour was accompanied by a quick bruschetta with bread from Clasen's Bakery, tomatoes from Flyte Family Farm, goat cheese from Dreamfarm and basil from our own garden. The pork was from Pecatonica Valley Farm, the bulk of the peanut sauce was from Yumbutter, the spices on the pork were from Penzey's, the cucumber and tomato in the dubious raita were from Flyte Family Farm, the Hopalicious was from Ale Asylum, local producers or businesses all. The rice, yogurt and limes were, unfortunately "not from around here" (imagine that in the best redneck lawman voice you can muster.)

Baked Beans Part 2

Swift on the heels of my first foray into bean baking I made another attempt. This time I chose to use different beans, a different recipe and a different technique. The Dutch oven was in need of reseasoning yet again before I could use it but the house was shut up tight due to the onset of winter. Without adequate ventilation for that smoky process I decided to turn to the programmable slow cooker instead.

The beans in this batch were Lina Cisco Bird Egg that I had grown and harvested fresh rather than dried. This method worked well because I could pick and shell large or small amounts and just keep adding them to the zip-top bags in the freezer.



Since the beans weren't dried I skipped soaking them and tossed them directly into the cooker. The recipe I used was "Classic Baked Beans" from "The Everything Healthy Slow Cooker Cookbook" by Rachel Rappaport. As with many slow cooker recipes, the ingredients were all just dumped in together. The only other cooking needed was frying the bacon. I used the real thing this time since the whole recipe only called for two slices.



The essential onion and garlic were added. And where the recipe called for "spicy mustard" I used a mixture of horseradish bratwurst mustard and jalapeno mustard.



Salt, pepper, molasses, brown sugar, water, chili sauce and cloves rounded out the ingredient list. Though I set out to follow the recipe exactly, I forgot to add the cloves. The chili sauce I purchased specifically to make this dish is practically indistinguishable from ketchup.



Ew. That's not too appetizing. Let's add the water and give it all a stir. Now it looks more like food.



Knowing the shell beans would probably take less time to cook than soaked dried beans I set the cooker for six hours rather than the eight to ten the recipe called for.



As it turned out, the beans were sufficiently cooked in only four hours--If I remember correctly. I either didn't make a note of the cooking time or lost it. I cooled them and stuck them in the refrigerator. A few nights later reheated some on the stovetop to serve with dinner.



We served the beans with scrumptious pork chops topped with Door County cherry salsa and a side of coleslaw. Yum!



The flavor was smoky and rich thanks to the bacon and again, not too sweet. However, the slightly metallic undertone was there again! In the previous batch I had blamed it on the cast iron Dutch oven. Now I'm not so sure. the current suspect is the fancy schmancy organic molasses I used in both batches. I'm half tempted to try a different brand--probably the classic standby my mother uses. Then I'd just have to figure out what to do to get rid of an almost full jar of expensive organic molasses! I seem to remember my father using it as a supplement to feed cattle. Maybe this will be my excuse to get a nice little Jersey cow for the back yard...