This weekend, the farmers market in Evanston, was truly glorious.  The late summer produce still abounded, tomatoes, string beans and leafy basil found happy homes inside my bag (and almost as soon, inside my tummy). This was the last weekend for the beans, and I think I’ve got the final fronds of fresh herbs too. I want to cook with this stuff, but it is just so tempting to eat it raw!

Here are just a few things that I found interesting.  As usual, I like to try new apples in fall.  Last year on the blog I featured the Mutzu (still equally delicious) but this year I discovered the Liberty and the Roxbury Russet.

The Liberty apple was born in 1962 in New York to its proud parents, The Purdue and Macoun Apples.  This firm and tart apple with its beautiful rosy skin gets is named for its ability to “liberate” itself from apple diseases…Does that mean the Liberty is better for you than a normal apple? Well no, but it does give you a great burst of energy!  The Liberty has a great shelf life; it can last up to five month in a cool environment (your fridge) and in enough space to breathe (yes, apples breathe.)

These ugly looking dudes are Roxbury Russets.  Created in 1600, it is the oldest apple in the United States.  See that kind of brownish greenish coloring? That is called russeting.  I think it gives the apple character, improving with age maybe.  Crisp and a little tart, these are the quintessential fall apple; Thomas Jefferson thought so too, he had them in his orchard in Monticello.

For ten or twelve blocks, street vendors fill the road, people mill about and the beat of 7 stages of jazz music pulses through every vein, ever heart and every soul.  Everyone feels the urge to dance, and some (myself most definately included) actually get groovy on the pavement.

The jazz was excellent, but of of course I was captivated by the variety of culinary melodies, harmonies and symphonies that came in the form of the Indian bread naan cooked in a tandoor oven (a “melody”), fresh shucked oysters with butter (harmony) or the prefect afternoon sushi sampler at Yoshi’s Jazz Club.

Naan is the generic name for (delicious) bread from India and other south Asian countries.  It is quite old, the first recorded mention dates back to 1300 AD.  Traditionally, naan is stuck to the side of the Tandoor oven like in this picture, though it can be made in your oven at home.   Tandoori food gets its name from the tandoor oven and is more a method of cooking than anything else. The naan is ready to eat when it is just about to jump into the hot coals that have imparted their delicious smokey flavor into the bread.

Don’t they just look delicious?? I think the aphrodisiac effect of the oyster is increased with sultry tenor sax in the background….

Ooh, if that doesn’t make your mouth water you must be missing a gene (no I’m just kidding). From the left clockwise: Unagi (eel), whitefish, maguro (tuna), Hamachi (yellowtail), salmon, scallop and shrimp.  Addmitedly, I might be wrong about the hamachi and whitefish, maybe it is the other way around.  Scallop sushi is the most devinly soft and silky thing I have ever had on my tongue, it is like biting into the way a good pillow feels on your tired head: comforting, welcome, and almost sinfully perfect.

The expanse of cultural food at even the more commercial stands was refreshing in and of itself.  It made me love San Francisco even more: Mexico borders Hawaii bordering texas alongside the neighboring United Kingdom. Oh, and across the street? Vietnam, Puerto Rico and New York.  Quite excellent.

Over the forth of July weekend, I took a trip to San Francisco with two wonderful travel companions: My Parents.  The entire trip was a gastronomic experience…everywhere I turned there was something new to try.

We arrived on Friday evening around 10:00.  Now, that was actually 12:00 midnight my body time so we had an obligatory glass of California wine and went to bed.  But if 10=12 then 7:00am = 9:00am and we arrived at the renown Ferry Plaza Farmers Market by the opening bell at 8:00AM.

It was Ellie Heaven.

I am next to positive that I ate five or six nectarines, peaches, and plums from the samples I consumed.  That is not counting the stone fruit that I bought. Beautiful and juicy, I learned what an apricot really tastes like; velvety, and soft on my tongue, it is like being kissed–really well.

This was our first purchase: a Gwen Avocado. My father ate it right out of its shell. Gwen has a smoother yet very intense flavor and is less readily available than Haas outside the state.

This is one of our many courses for breakfast.  The lighter pink fish is Northwest king Salmon, a gentler, silkier flavor than its deeper Sockeye cousin sitting next to it. On the right is sturgeon, paired with capers and Meyer lemons.  This little spot also had tuna with beats and goat cheese to accentuate the fish’s natural sweetness. All sandwiches were on homemade bread with local cream cheese.  Everything was local at this place.  I love it.

Check these figs out! My Midwestern and produced deprived soul didn’t appreciate that there existed such beautiful figs (to be bought without breaking the bank.) The large brown are called Turkey Figs, the Black Missions are next to the Bright green Dakotas (the sign says Kadota. I think its a joke).  Sold in egg cartons, you’re sure to enjoy these soft and seductive without bruising. Yummy…

I could easily pass every Saturday here all summer, trying different things: grinding my own flour, eating peruvian chicken, opting for flavored salts and cucumbers or just sampling until content, full and ready to walk the hills of SF.

Marrakesh is a sensual feast, the sounds of hundreds of voices speaking different languages, the grit of the dirt on my sweaty forehead, the smell of fresh cumin mixing with roasted meats and of course the transporting taste of mint tea, poured from a decorative silver pot high in the air.  There is no way to truly describe my four day stint in Marrakesh last week: it was the first time I have ever experienced culture shock, and it taught me a lot.

I do promise to move on to the culinary delights that I discovered, I just need to pontificate for one more moment.  The culture, at least to me, is very clearly in transition.  On one side of the street, a young women wears a full burka, and on the other, a teenager bears her belly a bit beneath a tight t-shirt. A motorcycle speeds by playing pop music, while a donkey heaves the weight of Moroccan ceramic behind him. Ok, ok, I’m off my soap box. I just can’t say enough about how interesting it was to visit somewhere totally different.  Coming home to Madrid felt almost like coming home to Minnesota in comparison.

SO! TO THE MEAT OF THE MATTER (literally). Let’s begin.  The Djemma El Fna (say Je-ma-fna) Square is the hub of activity in Marrakesh.  By day, it bustles with monkeys, snake charmers and men selling the most wonderful fresh squeezed orange juice, but by night it is a full blown grill-off.  The air fills with smoke and the scent of browning meats, and competing venders tempt you with their menus in four or five languages.  Doesn’t matter if you’re full, they want you to eat more.

My dinner started off with a bang of protein, small sausages and sweet-hot tomato chutney with warm flat bread.  Honestly, it wasn’t far off from a very tasty polish sausage…we aren’t as different as we think…

Then came the snails.  I can’t say I liked them. In fact, I really didn’t.  I’ll stick with the french-ifed version with pleanty of butter.

Moving on, kababs of chicken and veggies, lamb and beef all marinated in ras al hanout, I believe.  Ras el Hanout is a mixture of spices and everyone does it a little differently but normally, it includes cardamon, cinnamon, cumin, nutmeg, coriander, paprika and more. Its name means “Head of Shop” because the best spices are selected.  One of the things my family and I purchased (along with a drum made of fish skin, fake Ray Ban sunglasses, and a very old soup spoon) was a big bag of this spice mix.

I think dessert was my favorite part.  This tea in the photo is not mint, but rather ginger and ginseng. And that cake! It is like the most intense spice cake you’ve ever tasted but stronger, richer, and more honest. It doesn’t hold together but rather just melts into a hot mess in your mouth. I will cherish its taste my tongue forever.

Tired, full and dusty, I collapsed in my bed, ready to head to the High Atlas mountains the next morning….

The first day in Spain, I went straight for this treat.  Wandering around El Puerto Del Sol, I stopped in a shop full of hanging meat, smoke and locals.  True to from, I went for the ultra-authentic bocadillo de jamón.

Jamón is a mainstay in the Spanish diet, not to mention a building block of the export economy.  This is nothing like the ham from the deli, or a Christmas ham with cloves.  No, this is sliced thin and its salty meaty flavor is best on its own or with a little bread.

From a previous voyage to San Sebastian, a city in the Basque country of northern Spain, I knew that jamón iberico was delicious, and ubiquitous but I didn’t fully understand its importance.  Now, after a little research, and a long conversation in Spanish that tested my grammatical skills, here’s what I’ve got.

There are three main types of jamón in Spain- Serrano, Iberico, and Jabugo also known as jamón de pata negra. Serrano is the cheapest and the most common.  It has distinct white skin and you’ll find many bars have the entire leg on the counter, slicing it off piece by piece.  Iberico is one step up in quality—a little purer, a little more flavorful.   The purity is based on how the pig, or cerdo was raised, what it ate and how much exercise it got.  Jamón de Pata Negrais the purest and the most expensive. These pigs only eat bellotas, or acorns and are “purebreds.”

I had the opportunity to try a little piece the other day.  Truly, I’ve never had anything like it.  The fat was enchantingly unfamiliar and delivered exceptional flavor, balanced in its salt and depth of meat-i-ness. I asked if I could take a picture of the owner and he asked me how I would pay.  With love, I told him.  He like that.

The different types of jamón are heavily quality controlled. The Ministerio de Agricultura Español, determines the origin of the each ham and analyze its integrity.  The Reglamento Europeo,  (CE) the same organization that protects the flavor and the purity of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese makes sure that Spanish jamón is legally protected from interlopers and copycats.

If you happen to see some Spanish meats at your butcher shop, look to see if the jamón is 5J, a brand that is considered the best in the country, according to my local research.

Writing this makes me hungry…even though I just ate una tortilla con patatas y huevos, muy tradicional!

The much awaited part two….
I gained a new appreciation for architectural beauty at the Farmers Market last Saturday. I love the idea of food as art and this was like seeing a Gaudi building. At the far side of the market, a man with large hands, well seasoned with fresh earth, cut piece off an enormous ruffly mushroom. Called Hen of the Woods, or Maitake in Japanese, this is a great fungi. Maitake means “dancing mushroom” and that’s just what it looks like, a lady’s skirt flying across the floor. Or, I suppose, maybe it means you’ll dance when you find it!

I can’t wait to use this mushroom. Though the fall season isn’t nearly long enough fully expound on this guy, it fresh-freezes very well. It’s also great for you. Sloan Kettering Cancer Hospital has conducted some serious research with this fungi, and found some serious results. Anti-cancer and anti-diabetic elements are only the beginning. It’s also great for immune system support, hypertension relief and high cholesterol reduction. But the Chinese said it best, the Maitake balances the systems of your bodies. I like that. How can you not??

References: Sloan Kettering, americanmushrooms.com, and admittedly a little wikipedia.