A Day Devoted to the Locality of the Upper Valley

This Saturday presented me with an localiscious day of shopping for Upper Valley produce at the Norwich Farmer's Market, picking organic strawberries at Cedar Circle Farm with all-time best friend "A," feasting on the aforementioned goods at dinner time, and joining a selection of close friends for a locally brewed pint of lager, "Bock to the Trails", and food discussion at the Norwich Inn's Jasper Murdock's Alehouse/Pub. I simply could not think of a better way to spend the eve of the eve of the summer solstice, and I wanted to share some of the pictures that captured a portion of it. 

 

At the Norwich farmer's market I was first presented with Luna Bleu's stand, from which I selected a pre-packaged bag of tender-looking baby arugula.

From there I proceeded to Crossroad Farm and discovered first of the season's sugar snap peas, which looked, and proved to be, too sweet and crisp to pass up.

 

After meandering my way through several stands of crafts, meats, and baked goods - none of which had an allure for me that day - I found myself at Orford's Echo Hill Farm where I limited myself to a brilliantly green and rounded head of Boston Lettuce and a snow-white variety of turnip I knew to be a crunchfully delightful addition to any salad.

My final stop was at Your Farm, which had a selection of all of the above products, but I made a direct line towards their first-of-the-season's beets, which, despite their bright pink exteriors, presented a beautifully ringed cross-cut when I cut into them that same evening.

It just so happened that Saturday was also the day I started a house-sitting duty for some acquaintances also in Norwich, so I was on my own for dinner. Incidentally one of my go-to-options when I do find myself cooking for one is a salad, which is exactly what I had in mind for that evening. While the picture does not at all do justice to my dinner salad - also including shavings of raw asparagus from the garden of my homestay's garden, my homemade honey and cider vinegar dressing, and the strawberries of my day's "labor" - each bite presented a deliciously flavorful medley of crispness, tenderness, and freshness, which as friend "N" would say "nearly brought a tear to my eye."

My beer accommpanied by exceptional company was the absolute perfect end to a glorious day!

You Know You're in New England When...

I have just come back from perhaps the most pleasurable Upper Valley dining experience I have had outside the homes of my parents or friends since my return to the States last November.  What-is-more, every bite of food was sourced probably not more than 50 yards of my plate!

The Bunten Farm is a family owned and operated farm in Orford, New Hampshire; and has claims to being the only milking Devon dairy farm in the USA. Although Devon cattle were brought over from England by the very first Pilgrim settlers, their existence throughout the US has been minimal at best, and today there are only about 400 or so of these animals in the country. Most of the breed can be found in New England where particular dairy farmers, such as Chris and Bruce Balch, have protected the breed from extinction. Thus, this post must begin with a tremendous THANK YOU to The Bunten Farm for preserving this wonderful breed and providing New Englanders and visitors alike with an array of such amazingly rich dairy products: cream, milk, buttermilk, yogurt, cheeses, and butter. Their own-made products deserve recognition as well, as they do complete the selection of indulgent items to eat on the premise or to take away. It should also be noted that the family strives to remain as self-sufficient and independent of outside resources as possible, though sometimes will rely on local businesses to allow them to take part in the farm experience.

Now on to the brunch! I shared the visit with a friend of mine who has spent her fair share living and working on a farm in Southern Vermont, so I figured she would be a prime companion for the test run. The Farmhouse Kitchen is delightfully cozy and welcoming, and even though the kitchen is separated from dining room by a barrier, it felt almost like you were being invited into a family home to share an informal meal with them. From their service to their tasty home-style food, the Bunten team easily achieves their stated goal of being "the kind of place that makes you glad you came here and not somewhere else."

Upon being seated I immediately took note of the tri-portion dish on the center of our table that held the fresh butter, jam, and ketchup needed for the brunch we were soon to order. This tidbit alone was a welcome change from the packaged butter and jam portions and the family-sized bottles of ketchup typically seen on the tables of most breakfast/brunch eateries. I next took note of the the mismatching china bread plates, which only added to the charm of the experience for me.

Our first order of business was to have a look at our menu choices and pick our drinks, which contributes to making a meal at Bunten Farm Kitchen quite unique. The kitchen will provide the standard hot tea and coffee, juices, and milk that can be either raw or pasteurized; but should you want more than that they ask that you bring your own. The offered selection was enough for my friend and I, but I can imagine that on a dinner visit - they serve dinner Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays from 5:30 to 8:00 - such an option of bringing a familiar bottle of wine would be quite appealing.

Our drinks arrived with a selection of bite-sized freshly-made banana muffins and whipped sweetened Devon Cream, and while my friend could not be tempted, I quickly loaded a spoonful of cream onto one muffin and savored the bananas and cream combination. Next we were ready to really tackle the difficult decision we faced on what to order  for our main courses We both seemed stuck on the Eggs Benedict - "(Ham and eggs)" on Chris' grilled Orford English Muffin/Real Hollandaise Sauce and Fried Potatoes" - and the Veggie Galore Omelet - "Tomato, Kale, Onion, etc. w/ Devon Mozzarella Cheese, Home Fries and Toast". In the end I took on the Omelet while "C" tackled the Benedict, and we both agreed to sacrifice a bite to one another. Because the dining room is small and was probably only about half full while we were there, our wait for our food was very minimal and we were able to dive right in. My omelet came nicely folded with an intriguing medley of vegetables on the inside including the aforementioned ones, sweet carrots, pieces of heirloom tomatoes, and a cabbage-like vegetable that I believe was kohlrabi. Although the combination of the vegetables seemed a bit eclectic to me, the pieces themselves were in large enough chunks that they could be eaten bite by bite each with its own portion of omelet and melted cheese. The cheese was definitely a nice addition as it contributed to a slightly chewy texture to marry the soft omelet and al dente veggies, and it also gave each bite a slightly tangy note rounding out the flavor nicely especially with a little dab of ketchup. The toast was a grilled roll, which I thoroughly enjoyed slathering it with the jam and the fresh and perfectly soft salted butter - such a rare treat at most restaurants that don't want to fork over the extra money to serve anything but unsalted, and dare I say, unflavored butter. As for the home fries, they were clearly newly made and hadn't been sitting in a vat of their own fat for hours beforehand a trait that often makes me avoid this portion of breakfast in most other eateries. Over all my only complaint was that the omelet did not have the slightly runny interior that I tend to prefer because of my own upbringing, but I gather that many people are not of my same mind set, and so I hand it to Chris and Bruce for knowing their clientele. As for the single bite of Eggs Benedict I had, I couldn't make a single complaint. The mouthful perfectly combined a nicely toasted piece of the English Muffin with a bit of the slightly larded and salted ham, and arrived at my mouth dripping with a mix of bright yellow egg yolk - a sign of a truly fresh egg - and an airy yet supremely rich Hollandaise sauce. Clearly I cannot offer a bit of critique to the entirety of the dish as I just had one bite, but I can certainly attest that there was no lack of the sauce and that my one bite was instant pleasure.

My biggest woe from the whole experience was that I didn't get to sample more of menu choices, but I can say with safe assertion that I will be returning very soon and probably quite frequently to have the opportunity to taste the Old Fashioned Buttermilk Pancakes, the yogurt, the Devon cheese sampler, the "Bruce - n - Chris - to" sandwich of shaved ham and Devon cheese served french dipped and golden brown with maple syrup, and whatever other specialties they might be making on any other Sunday!

Brunch at the Bunten Farm Kitchen is served from 10:00 to 1:00 on Sundays, and whether you go for there for brunch or dinner, they ask that you please make a reservation so that they know to accommodate you! The experience is certainly not to be missed if you are a dairy lover of any kind. Simply remember that you can bring your own, and save some time either before or after your meal to visit with the "Pumpkin Coop Girls", Harry the Bernese Mountain Dog, - freshly clipped I might add - and the herd of ruby-colored Devon cattle. Finally, be ready to want to purchase a specialty of Bunten Farmhouse Kitchen. I could not leave without a half pound of butter in hand!

Lessons Learned From a Weekly Fish Dinner

This next post presents a bit of a challenge for me, as it has to do with a recent cooking/eating experience - last night's to be more exact - that left me rather disappointed. Nevertheless I had every intention of writing about it 24 hours ago, so I'm going to do my best to try to unvail three culinary lessons in as interesting and informational manner as possible.

For the Bothe parents' and youngest daughter's weekly seafood and/or fish dinner, my mom chose a farm-raised fillet of Steelhead Trout, which to her credit had the appearance, smell, and texture of a fresh and flavorful fish. The fillet was nice and firm, presented no fishy odor, and had the intense pink color of its wild salmon neighbor in the display case. Thus, there was hope for our dinner...

When I knew I would get the opportunity to prepare our dinner for this particular Sunday evening, I decided I wanted to try out a few techniques that I had not used since working in a kitchen professionally - a term I should say that I use rather loosely, as I never considered myself a professional cook and/or chef! First I decided that I would cook the fillet "Meuniere" style, which essentially means seasoning a fillet of fish (Sole is the standard) and then dredging it in flour before frying it in a rather ample amount of butter and serving it with a sauce that you make of browned butter, lemon, and parsely. Because we seem to have an overlly sensitive smoke detector at the moment, I decided that I would opt to use clarified butter for the frying and accompanying sauce. To me the process of clarifying butter seems to always be made more intimidating and complex than necessary. In essense clarifying butter is the process of removing the milk solids from the butter piece so that all you are left with is a clear yellow fat. I guess there are many ways to go about this process, but for me it just seems easiest to melt the necessary quantity of butter in a saucepan over gentle heat just until it has all turned to liquid. At this stage there will be milk solids that have separated to the top and bottom of the pan, so the way I proceed is to just skim off the top white solids with a spoon, and pour out as much of the golden yellow fat as possible into a measuring cup before the remaining milky substance dribbles in as well.

So, after having prepared my butter, I was ready to put the pan on the stove and heat it to a medium high temperature (approximately 400 degrees). I then nimbly removed the skin from the fillet, seasoned both sides, and incidently completely forgot about the dredging stage, but given that this is more a stage for the finished texture of the dish than anything else, it did not have a tremendous impact on my end result. Once my fillet was prepped and ready to go, I proceeded to put a piece of parchment paper into the heated pan. This is a little trick I used a lot in my previous work experience in the pan-cooking of most of the fish with which I worked. Obviously if you have access to a non-stick pan the trick is a little redundant, but given that our non-stick was not large enough to hold the fillet I had to opt for another pan that the fish most certainly would have adhered to if I had not positioned the piece of parchment. Next I poured the clarified butter into the pan and let it heat up amply before adding the fish. Most fish will cook very quickly in this process, and actually for most fish it's almost better to undercook it as the hot sauce that is applied once it is on the serving platter will finish off the cooking. You do need to turn the fish in the pan though so that it does cook on both sides - this proved rather tricky for me as my fillet was rather large and required two spatulas to turn it without breaking the flesh. Once both sides had been seared I removed the fillet to a warmed platter and returned the pan to the heat so that my butter could turn a shade darker - to a nut brown color - before I added the lemon juice and parsly.

At this point I immediately called my parents to the table, grabbed the prepared side dishes, and presented the main platter (this sounds way more formal than it actually was, trust me). I devided out our portions using a spoon to ladle over the beautifully browned lemon parsly butter and was tremendously eager to take my first bite, which was when I discovered utter disappointment. Although the bite of flaky flesh had the expected succulent buttery component to it, the fish itself lacked any flavor to match. My mouth was invaded by lifelessness, and I was not happy! I contented myself with soaking up every bit of the butter fat that remained both in my plate and in the platter, but the meal still felt lost.

The bit of reasearch I have executed this evening suggests that farmed fish will most often always be inferior not only in flavor, but in nutritional value and environmental sustainability as well. These "harvested" fish are fed not what they would eat naturally, but pellets that contain the following: antibiotics that have agents that have been proven harmful to humans; colorings to make them the color of their wild counterparts when really the food they eat renders them an unappetizing grey color; and other chemically produced substances that are no where near the nutritional value for them or us of their natural diets.
Thus, was my harshly disappointing experience eating farmed fish. For ethical reasons I obviously can't promote always choosing wild over farm-raised, but from now on I am going to be even pickier... My parents will be so happy!

Low and Slow: Rediscovering the Flavor of Meat

Within the past few months I have really questioned whether I truly have a carnivore within me, or if I simply have a gastronome's palette that allows me to appreciate the likes of charcuterie, foie gras, and other animal delicacies rather than those of steaks and similar chunks of meat. The question came to me initially when I couldn't experience the sensation of my mouth watering at the thought, sight, or taste of my dad's birthday sirloin grilled on the the BBQ. Instead what had me excited about the dinner was my mom's Bearnaise that I would pretty much eat by the spoonful as I slathered my every bite of meat, as well as the pomme-de-terre saute also prepared masterfully by my mom and also dipped into the decadent Bearnaise. As time went on in 2010 I found that my tastes in meat did in fact lie strictly within the limits of charcuterie and, oddly enough, the more obscure parts of the animal typically categorized as offal when prepared as edible delights- namely tongue, liver, and bone marrow. Then in Las Vegas - where for my birthday dinner I ate at Alex (for Chef Alessandro Stratta) - I chose for my main course a "Tenderloin of Wagyu Beef 'Rossini with Potato Gnocchi, Root Spinach, and Aged Parmigiano," and quickly felt myself let down by my own palette. Incidentally, I could not have been less stimulated by the seemingly exquisite flavors and textures of perhaps the world's finest beef. Don't get me wrong, I had the utmost appreciation for the meat's origins, tenderness, and masterful manner in which it was prepared; but unless I had the foie gras to go with it on the fork, I simply found little interest in the meat itself. It was thus how half a piece of Wagyu tenderloin sat by itself on an otherwise spotless plate - wiped clean by a piece of bread as is my typical fashion - and how my dinner partner was offered his own chance to dine on a rare culinary delight.
OK, so where am I going with this? Well, a few weeks ago my mom and I made a Sunday trip to the Hanover Coop in search of our dinner for the evening. My mom made an enquiry at the butchery about getting a locally-sourced piece of pork, which was how we came away with a bone-in shoulder end roast (one that included the very tip of the loin and rib bones) and corresponding instructions to cook it at a low temperature over several hours. Needless to say I had been rather unenthusiastic about the thought of a pork roast for dinner, but given my keen desire to continue my cooking self-education - especially in the meat domain - I was rather eager to have a go at preparing our Sunday roast.
The preparation of the pork was really easy. I combined a couple of tablespoons of olive oil with some garlic, thyme, and essential seasoning then rubbed the mixture onto the exterior of the 2.5 pounds of meat that had already been trimmed of any excess fat. I then placed the roast into a preheated 350-degree oven and simply let it be for a near 2 hours until it reached a temperature of, more or less, 155 degrees. At this point I could remove it from the oven and let it rest on a cutting board for about 10 minutes while I deglazed the cooking pan and prepared an accompanying jus. Immediately before serving I brought out my very infrequently used carving set and proceeded to cut the roast into thick slices between the rib bones. Low and behold and much to my pleasure I began to salivate, and wholly welcomed the decadent sight of juicy and tenderly-cooked meat. Moreover when I sat down to completely indulge in the tasting experience of my roast, I hardly noticed the jus or anything else on my plate so much I was captivated by the pure flavors of the local, naturally-raised meat.
If that experience alone wasn't enough to convince me that meat does in fact hold a very desirable appeal to me, I have since roasted a whole chicken in a similar low and slow fashion following the ideas of a recipe I found in Italian Two Easy, Simple Recipes from the London River Cafe, by Rose Gray and Ruth Rogers. Although I chose to enhance the flavor of my local free-range 3.5 pound chicken with fresh sprigs of tarragon and garlic rather than the rosemary and sage the recipe called for, and only rubbed 1 tablespoon of butter onto the skin rather than the instructed 10, I pretty much obeyed the cooking instructions to the letter. After preheating the oven to 200 degrees, cleaning the chicken, and seasoning and stuffing the cavity with my enhancers; I placed the chicken up-side-down in a heavy-duty pan, added a little under a cup of water, and put the lot into the oven for the first hour. For hour two I turned the chicken onto its right side, and for hour three onto its left. For the final stage I removed the chicken from the oven, turned the oven up to 400 degrees, rubbed my tablespoon of butter into the chicken, seasoned it, and added half a cup of dry vermouth to the pan. The chicken then went back into the oven for a final half hour at the higher temperature to obtain a golden hue and crisp exterior. Exactly as with the pork, the flavor, tenderness, and juiciness, of the chicken was incomparable to a lot of the roast chickens I've had in my past.
Although I have no doubt that a meat's best flavors and textures may truly be obtained via other cooking methods, I think mine is a palette strictly for the low and slow method. Here's to a lot of advanced planning, simple preparation, and, I say this with truth, meaty goodness!!!

Smuttynose Beer Dinner - Murphy's on the Green, Hanover

Although there have been numerous instances when I have not even considered attending a dinner that offers beer and food pairings, the menu preview for Murphy's Smuttynose Beer Dinner on April 28, 2010 peaked my curiosity to the point that I could not say no. I thus proceeded to extend invitations and was happily surprised that "J" seemed keen to accept.
I, by no means, consider myself close to being a connoisseur of beers and ales, so please excuse the absence of much commentary on that side of the meal, and accept the opinions I do offer with a grain of salt!
The dinner opened with the Smuttynose seasonal offering, The Hanami Ale, which was described as having a tart, cherry flavor. Our opening course to harmonize the beer was a "Scallops Sashimi," served with sweet soy, radish, and house pickled ginger. The scallops were pleasantly fresh and had a nice bite and did not require the elaborate accompaniments suggested; which turned out to be a good thing, as the house pickled ginger seemed to be missing from the plate anyways and the radish hardly presented any added flavor. As for the ale, I felt it was a bit strong bodied for the soft sweetness of the scallops and was missing a nice dry and crisp white varietal.
Next on the menu came a "Colorado Lamb Tar Tar" paired with The Brown Dog Ale, which was a pleasant surprise. Firstly, I was quite partial to the darker ale which was certainly hoppy, but proved a nice step away from the tartness of its predecessor, and secondly the lamb tar tare was in no way overpowering in meat flavor or texture. In fact the morsels could have almost melted in the mouth without a lingering taste of lamb or even of the minced shallots and garlic. Accompanying the meat was the yolk of a quail egg, a horseradish aoli, and brioche toasts, which made the dish the overall winner of the night for me. The fatty nature of the egg yolk and aoli combined with the crispiness of the brioche toasts created a beautiful medley of taste and texture without too much of a powerful note from the horseradish.
Course number three was the one I had been looking forward to the most, and perhaps, for that reason, was the one that disappointed me the most. "Pan Seared Pacific Halibut Cheeks" were paired with The IPA. Because I have no affinity for IPAs from any brewer, I chose to hardly touch the beer except to sample the pairing with the dish. The Halibut cheeks themselves were certainly fresh and had a nice mellow flavor, but while they were nice and crispy in texture on the outside they were brutally overcooked and dry within. The additions to the dish were fresh mango, cracked coriander and young cilantro, which in the case of the first and the last were hardly distinguishable, and in the case of the seeds were unpleasantly sharp and inconsistent in both flavor and texture - too much coriander at one point and then lingering shards of seed in one's teeth! All in all not a course I would recommend that Murphy's put on its nightly menu.
The fourth and final savory course was "Fennel Crusted Sweetbreads" served with fresh morel mushrooms, house made duck prosciutto, and a parsnip puree. This was paired with The Big IPA, which given my impartiality to the standard IPA was also hardly touched on my part - fortunately my partner for the evening was willing to tackle it on my behalf! Nevertheless, the sweetbreads were as deliciously rich as could be, and further complemented by a creamy bed of parsnip puree and blanquette-like sauce. Unfortunately the "fresh" morel mushrooms were a disappointment as they appeared to actually be the dried variation improperly soaked so that they were unpleasantly crisp, but the duck prosciutto made for a nice compromise adding saltiness and bight to the dish that otherwise could have been slurped rather than chewed.
Our final course, though superbly creative and promising in taste and texture, was a bit of a let down. "Tempura Banana 'Sushi'" rather than being pieces of crisply coated soft and caramelized banana, was more like banana baby food. However it was wrapped in the traditional format of seaweed and sushi rice, and was a lot of fun to play with - something I always find appealing in my food. The caramel crispies mentioned in the description seemed to be missing, but given the soggy nature of the banana coating they were likely a necessary addition to the plate. However there was a type of pickled or marinated cabbage accompaniment that came as a surprising bonus! The Robust Porter was the chosen brew, but in my taste was too strong and hearty in flavor and body to pair well with the delicacy that is sushi.
Thus, you have my review of my first and perhaps not last beer dinner at Murphy's. I think the boys in the kitchen have a good thing going for them and they should pursue their creativity and attention to local, seasonal, and flavorful food!

Billionaire's Turtle Square

At the request of M, here is my version of a combination of dessert components that in the US is typically given the term "Turtle", and in the UK is often known as "Millionaires Shortbread". Each of the components are my adaptations of different recipes I've collected and then brought together for the purpose of creating this tri-textured, tri-flavoured dessert square.

Shortbread Base: From Gourmet Magazine March 1999
3/4 cups unsalted butter
2 cups flour
1/2 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/2 tsp salt

1) Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit
2) Slice the butter into 1/4-inch pats. Put the remaining ingredients into a food processor and process them until well blended. Add the butter pats and pulse until the mixture forms small lumps.
3) Turn the mixture out into a 13x9x2-inch baking pan and press it down evenly using the back of a metal spatula. Bake the shortbread until golden, about 30 minutes. Put on a wire rack and allow to cool to room temperature in the pan.

Hazelnut Caramel: From Bon Apetit February 2010
1 1/2 cups sugar
1/2 cup water
2/3 cup heavy cream
4 tblsp butter (can be either salted or unsalted, but if using unsalted be sure to add 1/2 tsp of salt when mixing in the final ingredients)
2 tsp cider vinegar
1 1/3 cups hazelnuts, toasted, husked, and coarsely chopped

1) Combine the sugar and water in a heavy-bottomed saucepan and stir over medium heat until the sugar dissolves. Turn the heat up to high and allow to boil without stirring until the syrup reaches 375 to 380 degrees Fahrenheit on a candy thermometer (or until it turns a medium amber color, which should take about 8 minutes).
2) Remove the pan from the heat then add the cream and stir slowly over a low heat until the mixture homogenizes. Add the butter (with the salt if necessary), and the vinegar and stir until the butter melts.
3) Finally stir in the hazelnuts and pour the caramel over the cooled shortbread base. Cool until the caramel sets - this can take a while at room temperature so you may choose to refrigerate the two layers to speed up the process.

Chocolate Ganache:
2/3 cup heavy cream,
8 oz semi-sweet chocolate. chopped (Callebaut is a great brand)

1) Heat the cream in a saucepan until it just begins to boil. Remove the pan from the heat, add the chocolate, and stir the cream and chocolate together until they are smooth.
2) Spread the ganache over the cool caramel and spread it so that it covers evenly. Chill the completed dessert until the ganache sets

You may cut the completed dessert into squares of your desired size if they are to be served straight away, but my family and I have preferred to just cut into the dessert whenever our hearts desire as the caramel can become runny.

A Winter Farmer's Market Lunch

Yet again, this post is brought to you because of another inspired visit I had to the Norwich winter farmers' market. Saturday the 13th of February saw not only the return of the market in Norwich's Tracy Hall after its near 6-week absence, but also the restocking of our home freezer, refrigerator, and pantry with the local, organic, and seasonal offerings of the Upper Valley's farmers and food producers. This time however, I knew the event was going to merit some picture-taking so I had my camera at the ready throughout my first laps around to visit all the vendors.

Since Luna Bleu Farm is perhaps one of the only sources of natural and organic chicken livers available in the Upper Valley, as usual, they were our first stop when my parents and I reunited at the market's entrance. Incidentally the farm is also one of our favorite vendors to find fresh eggs and produce, so with livers in hand we proceeded to select our share of their beautiful winter harvest selection: a sac-load of carrots, pungent red and yellow onions, baby new potatoes, and fantastically-coulored beets.

Another vendor my parents and I are quite fond of for their wide range of meats is Hogwash Farm. Here we always manage to find at least one or two products that prove both flavoursome and sustainable - requirements that I demand of most of my food at this stage - as their meats are all from their locally raised heritage animals. This time we walked away with a large pork roast - not my favourite but something I would eat given the reputable source - as well as with a packet of succulent looking strips of streaky bacon.

Meat-wise this trip to the market also introduced us to Highfields Farm, where we found a nicely plump chicken as well as an fine lamb loin on the bone. Both meats have since withstood the test of roasting and both passed the taste test with flying colours. In fact I am currently in the process of making a puffed pastry chicken pot pie with the leftover chicken meat and will let you know it the next post how said pie turns out.

For right now however, I would like to tell you a little about the salad I composed for myself upon returning from the market with a ripe appetite for all the fresh produce. Although root vegetables might not often be considered for a raw salad, I assure you that this one that I came up with is an ideal winter's lunch with the crunchiness and freshness to outdo a summer competitor salad. Thus, I give you the recipe and encourage you to give it a go before these roots are r

eplaced by spring's bounty.

Ingredients: For the Salad

1 small jerusalem artichoke (also call sunchokes), washed and grated

1 small beetroot, peeled and grated

1 small carrot, peeled and grated

3-4 Boston lettuce leaves, washed (optional)

parsley, chopped

For the Dressing

1 tblsp cider vinegar

1/2 tsp dijon mustard

1/2 tsp maple syrup

3 tblsp vegetable oil

salt and pepper to taste

1) Combine the cider vinegar, mustard, and maple syrup in a small bowl, and then slowly drizzle in the oil while whisking to create and homogenous dressing. Season with the salt and pepper

2) Mix together all the grated root vegetables in one bowl then toss with most of the dressing so that it coats the salad evenly.

3) Lay the Boston lettuce leaves (if you choose to use them) on a plate and drizzle the remaining dressing over them. Top the leaves with the grated, dressed vegetables and sprinkle over as much chopped parsley as you would like.

For a more complete lunch I paired my salad with a toasted slice of La Panciata's honey and oat bread, on which I spread a small helping of french chicken liver pate... YUMMY:)