Category Archives: Steals and Deals

Lazy, but not local

Making pesto in winter when Mother Nature just dumped a fluffy foot of snow on your house is certainly not endorsed by strict localvores. It’s a task normally reserved for the hazy days of summer, when gardens are busting with basil, not sleeping quietly under a heavy blanket of white.

But I’m a fish taco freak and for me, fish tacos need fresh cilantro. In the winter this means I buy my fresh herbs from Mexico, Guatemala, or where ever else they’re shipped from. Oops.

Wilted cilantro ready for the food processor.

I usually buy a bunch and everything is fine and dandy. I have some delicious tacos, then I toss the rest of the cilantro in the fridge and forget about it. Until a week later, when I’m rummaging in the vegetable drawer, trying to scare up some grub and there it is. A bunch of verdant herbs, now wilted and limp. It makes me feel guilty.

Enter, poor man’s pesto.

Even yellowing and wilted herbs can turn into a bright pesto.

Whatever wilted and forgotten herbs you have on hand (I’ve tried cilantro, parsley and basil all with success), whizzed in the food processor with nuts, a bit of olive oil and citrus, salt and pepper and you’ve got a vibrant, zippy condiment that is great on anything: fish, chicken, tofu, meat, bread, crackers. It freezes well too.

Pesto most frequently presents itself in the pesto alla genovese form, with basil and pine nuts as the base. But “pesto” is really just a term derived from the Italian word for “to crush,” as in to crush herbs and garlic (think mortar and pestle). I stopped using pine nuts in my pesto because they are so expensive and I prefer the flavor of walnuts. Use whatever you like. The best part about pesto is you can use whatever you have on hand. I’ve made pesto with pine nuts, walnuts, sunflower sweets, peanuts, almonds and pecans. Also, herbs that may be too wilted to chop and sprinkle are great for pesto, I’ve never noticed a lack of brightness, even from leaves that look destined for the compost pile. Just watch for the rotten bits. Pick those out.

Some ideas:

  • cilantro, walnut, lime pesto atop a firm white fish like halibut or sea bass
  • lemon, parmesan, parsley pesto tossed with whole wheat pasta
  • sage, walnut, garlic pesto served with roasted pork

This recipe is in the style of Michael Ruhlman author of, “Ratio: The Simple Codes Behind the Craft of Everyday Cooking.” In Ruhlman’s cookbook he focuses on the ratios required in different recipes, rather than give exact measurements of every single ingredient.

The ratio (roughly) =

2 parts fresh herbs 1 part nuts

Sometimes you have two wilting bunches of herbs, sometimes a scant one. Maybe you have a lime to use up, maybe it’s a lemon. They key to success lies in tasting as you go. When you can’t stop dipping your hand straight into the bowl, licking the pesto surreptitiously from your fingers, you’re done.

Note: You need a food processor. Or giant muscles and a mortar and pestle, but that’s a lot of work.

Poor man’s wilted herb pesto

Ingredients

2 cups fresh herbs, stems on, roughly chopped (cilantro, basil, parsley or some combination have all worked well for me)

1 cup nuts (I’ve had success with walnuts, pecans, peanuts, sunflower seeds and pine nuts)

1/4 cup oil (olive, or another but stay away from very strong flavors like sesame). NOTE: This is a fairly dry pesto, with less oil than some. Add more if you prefer.

2 cloves garlic (more or less, depending on preference)

lemon or lime juice to taste

salt and pepper to taste

Directions

1. Skin the garlic and mince it in a food processor.

2. Chop off the end of the herb’s stems, roughly chop the rest. Add into the food processor along with the nuts, no need to chop them. Whiz the herbs and nuts together, drizzling in the olive oil until you get the consistency you’re looking for. I like mine smooth, but with visible specks of herbs.

3. Add the lemon or lime juice and salt and pepper. Whiz everything together, taste, adjust for seasoning. Freeze in small glass jars with an inch of head room or refrigerate for 3-4 days.

Yields roughly a cup and a half.

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Filed under Gluten-free, Local, Recipes, Steals and Deals, Uncategorized

Street eatin’ in Vietnam

For my first article published in the Boston Globe I interviewed Jennifer Nguyen, a Vietnamese woman hailing from Nha Trang, which is now, 35 years-plus after the war’s end, a touristy beach town on the eastern coast of Vietnam.

Nguyen’s grandfather ran the Southern Vietnamese/American army base’s restaurant during the war. She and her family escaped by boat to Hong Kong five years after the last US Marines were airlifted by helicopter out of Saigon. They were struck by a storm off the coast and found by a fishing boat days later. Their ship was kept anchored off shore by officials for more than two weeks, passengers were allowed one bowl of soup a day. Nguyen arrived in Boston two years later, in 1982, at the age of 24.

Jennifer Nguyen whipping up some of her banh mi. She wakes at 3 a.m. every morning, gets to the shop by four.

(Photo by Aram Boghosian for The Boston Globe)

Now, Nguyen runs a little sandwich shop/take out place/mini grocery called Banh Mi Ba Le at 1052 Dorchester Ave. in Dorchester. She works 7 days a week from 4 a.m.-10 p.m. with a quick nap in between. Her barbecue sauce, pickled veggies, fish sauce and bread is all homemade. Fresh-baked baguettes are five for $2, sandwiches (10-inchers) are $3. She is sweet and friendly, gracious and welcoming. Her food is fresh and cheap, I highly suggest a visit.

Click here to read all about Nguyen’s special sandwiches, what the heck a banh mi actually is, and for a recipe to make them at home.

I first became interested in Nguyen’s specialty, banh mi sandwiches, last April, when we were in Vietnam for vacation. Anthony Bourdain, traveler/chef/television host featured a woman in Hoi An, north of Nha Trang on his show, so when we arrived in Hoi An, we sought out her little cart and found a long line of locals (always a good sign).

Here is the banh mi lady in Hoi An, on the mid-eastern coast of Vietnam.

 

Food was one of our major reasons for going to Vietnam. When I asked various Vietnamese where their food comes from, they always laughed, and looked at me quizzically. Local food is just a way of life  here. Processed, packaged goods exist, but the cornerstones of the diet: fresh vegetables, herbs, meat, seafood and the like all usually come from within a hundred miles. That’s just how their food system works. An influx of wealth, globalization, etc. will certainly change this, but for now, eating locally is a way of life.

You can’t talk about Vietnamese food without mentioning pho (pronounced fuh). The noodle soup is the national dish, eaten primarily for breakfast. Most Vietnamese eat their pho from food stands because it takes forever to make the rich, meaty stock and costs about 20 cents on the street. Pictured above is chicken pho from Hanoi, pho ga. In the US on Vietnamese restaurant menus pho is sometimes called simply “noodle soup.”

Shown here is pho bo, beef pho in Saigon. A steaming bowl of any kind of pho always comes with a side of lime wedges, bean sprouts, fresh herbs like basil and mint, hot peppers and an array of condiments like nuoc cham (a ubiquitous Vietnamese dipping sauce),  fish, soy, hoisin and hot sauces.

The elderly woman who ran this stand had a huge crush on Bo. While I was writhing in our hotel room, sick from some greasy tourist trap grub, he’d walk around the corner, pull up a tiny plastic stool and let his pho ladies fawn all over him. The two drinks on the table are green tea and ca phe, the ubiquitous drinks of Vietnam. Ca phe (sound it out, get it?) is strong black iced coffee, served with a generous dash of sweetened condensed milk. It’s like having someone say, ‘No, it’s cool, here you can drink coffee milkshakes all day, no one thinks it’s weird. And guess what? You won’t get fat because you are walking 10 miles a day in 105 degree heat.” Awesome.

Speaking of ubiquitous drinks. Enter bia hoi. Fresh beer brewed over night and best enjoyed first thing in the morning. That’s right, BEST enjoyed in the morning. A country where you are encouraged to drink in the morning. It gets even better. Bia hoi is served from giant vats, right on the street. At around 11 a.m. after doing some touristy things, we parked ourselves at a little stand in Hanoi and drank six each. Yes, six. They are much lighter in alcohol, that’s my only justification. We were served by cute girls who skated around on the beer-slicked floor, their oversized sandals flopping and black hair flying.

12 fresh beers, total: $1.92.

 

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Filed under Eating out, Recipes, Restaurants, Steals and Deals

Late to the party

I am big on texture as far as food goes.

Crunchy, crispy, smooth – anything but gelatinous and I’m game. Which is why I came a little late to the oyster party. I tried one when I was younger; it didn’t go well. There was an attempt at chewing, followed by a little bug-eyed choking. It wasn’t pretty. I wanted to like them – they smell of the ocean, my happy place. And you can’t beat the presentation: served perched on their own ornate little shells, luxuriously glinting from a bed of crushed ice.

An oyster tasting at the Summer Shack of all East Coasters: Cotuit, Chatham Bay, Wellfleet, Wianno, Island Creek, Pemaquid.


A November birthday dinner for Bo’s sister Lizzy at East Coast Grill in Inman Square gave me another chance to slurp down one of these suckers and see if I could finally enjoy it. And I did. Maybe it was the company, the Spanish Cava or the fact that the briny oysters were plucked from Duxbury Bay, just over 30 miles away.

Whatever it was, I’m a convert.

There is nothing like taking that tiny sip of the oyster’s juice before you slurp it down. It tastes of the ocean, or rather, how I think the ocean should taste. Not like when you were small and accidentally drink a half gallon of it after being hit by a wave and tumbled head over heel so many times you aren’t sure which way is up until finally, gasping for air you emerge, polka dot bikini bottoms around your ankles, matching suspenders rendered useless, fashionable but useless, at your feet. Ah memories.

A Wellfleet, so far my East Coast favorite. Clean and briny, not too fishy, all ocean flavor.


Oysters usually cost between $2 and $3 on most raw bar menus, but there are dozens of $1 oyster deals all over the city to explore. Here are a few to get started on.

$1 oyster deals

(click on the links for addresses, contact information and menus.)

  • 8-10 p.m. on Sundays, $1 oysters and $1 PBRs = hipster heaven at Myers + Chang in the South End.
  • 4-6 p.m. Monday-Friday, $1 oysters. Summer Shack’s Boston and Hingham locations, at the bar only.
  • Tuesdays, $1 oysters, Scarlet Oak Tavern, Hingham.
  • Fridays, through December 2010, $1 oysters, Turner Fisheries in Back Bay.
  • 5:30 p.m. until the last oyster is shucked, $1, Mondays, Rialto Restaurant, Cambridge.
  • 10:30 p.m.-12:30 a.m. late night live-shucked $1 oysters at the bar, Wednesdays at Sel de la Terre‘s Long Warf location.
  • 3-6 p.m. Monday-Friday at the bar, $6 for 6 oysters, Legal Sea Foods, multiple locations.
  • 5 p.m. until close on Wednesdays, $1 oysters at the bar, Abby Park in Milton.

Any additions and updates would  be most welcome, send me a note if you have a favorite Boston-area oyster deal and I’ll add it to the list.

 

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Filed under Eating out, Local, Restaurants, Seafood, Steals and Deals