Tomato jam recipe

One of my favorite guilty pleasures when I was in preschool was ketchup on biscuits. I’m not sure how I got into the habit of doing this, but a bit of that old, strange love lingers on today when I eat barbecue: I won’t put sauce on the meat but I’ll dip those soft, spongy slices of white bread in a bucket of a tomato-based sauce if given the chance.

I realize this isn’t the most sophisticated thing to eat, heck, some of y’all might even say it’s downright gross. Well, fortunately, a reader asked me if I had a recipe for tomato jam. Now, I’d never eaten tomato jam but I'd certainly heard of it. I even have a T-shirt from the Tomato Jam café in Asheville, North Carolina that my mom sent to me. (I haven’t been to Asheville but I hear it’s the Austin of North Carolina, which means it’s probably a very cool place.) So when this reader asked me for a recipe, I told her I’d get right on it.

First, I checked my old recipe files to see if any of my grandmas and great-grandmas had directions on how proper tomato jam was done. They didn’t. So before I came up with one, I asked the reader what exactly tomato jam was supposed to taste like. She said it was a wonderful mix of sweet and savory; she ate it on her biscuits while her grandpa spread it on his rye toast.



A sweet and savory tomato spread that isn’t ketchup? I was curious. I started thinking about how I would make my jam, and decided I’d do my usual citrus, sugar and spice blend as I do with my apricot jam.

A little research led me to Mark Bittman’s recipe in the New York Times where he had the same idea. I followed his approach with a few modifications and, I must admit, this tomato jam was curious. It looked like a cross between strawberry jam and ketchup. Which seemed odd. But once it cooled a bit and I could really taste it, I was hooked.

Tomato jam is indeed sweet, spicy and savory and, because I’m Texan, I also make it a little bit fiery. It’s like a more sophisticated ketchup, though it could certainly pose as a fruit spread as well. (Though I’m not sure if tomato jam is quite ready to be paired with peanut butter.)



Spreading it on my biscuit, I was a kid again dipping my biscuits into ketchup. But this time it was not only socially acceptable but a heck of a lot more sophisticated and delicious as well. I'm now a fan of tomato jam and I think it’s splendid on burgers, grilled cheese sandwiches, eggs and, of course, biscuits as well. And if you try it, perhaps you'll find it splendid, too.

Do you eat tomato jam? What do you like to do with it?

Tomato jam (adapted from the New York Times)
1 pound Roma tomatoes, chopped and cored
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons lime juice
2 teaspoons lime zest
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/2 teaspoon sea salt
1/2 teaspoon ground black pepper
1 or 2 dried chiles de arbol, crumbled
Pinch of chipotle powder

Method:
Combine all the ingredients in a pan, bring to a boil and then simmer, stirring often until tomatoes have dissolved and jam is thick and glossy, about 45 minutes. Pack jam into a sterilized container. Keeps in the refrigerator for 2 weeks.

Yield: 1 pint

Note: Variations on this could be made by adding chopped jalapeños, chopped cooked bacon or I’ve even heard of people stirring in a bit of bourbon. And if you thinking this is close to chipotle ketchup, it is, though that has a few different spices and vinegar to give it that familiar tang.

Keep reading...

Cantaloupe ice cream

I didn’t think I liked cantaloupe.

I know, I know, how can this be? Texas is famous for its cantaloupes, especially Pecos cantaloupes, which hail from this West Texas town situated between Odessa and El Paso.

The soil around Pecos is salty and sandy. And even though cantaloupes aren’t native to Texas, in the early 1900’s farmers started planting them there and they realized that special soil produced especially juicy and sweet fruit. A Texan fruit star was born.



Pecos cantaloupe is in season right now and while they don’t often travel outside the border if you do get your hands on one you’re in for a treat. For a few years, Blue Bell even produced a limited-edition flavor in the late summer called Pecos Cantaloupe ‘N Cream. It hasn’t been made for the past two years, however, and this has made people sad.

When I first learned about the flavor, however, I shrugged. Cantaloupe had not been something I’d eaten for quite a while as one I had eaten made my mouth tingle and my lips swell; I assumed I was allergic.

My grandparents, however, used to grow these melons. And when I was in college they’d drive up to Sherman and share them with my friends and me. “I don’t like cantaloupe,” I said when my grandma recently told me her memories of these late-summer deliveries. “Yes you do,” said my grandma, “And you said that our cantaloupes were awesome.”



Having been reminded that there was a time in my life when I did eat cantaloupe and intrigued by the notion of a cantaloupe ice cream, I recently tried the fruit again. Now I can’t get Texas cantaloupe here in New York, but the one I did eat was juicy, sweet and creamy. I was again hooked.

During the final days of summer, melons are such a gift. Is there anything more satisfying then biting into a juicy wedge on a sultry day? You almost don’t need to do a thing to them, though a batch of cantaloupe ice cream is definitely a refreshing, luxurious dessert



I make my cantaloupe ice cream smooth, with a touch of lime juice, ginger and salt to bring out its delicate flavor. Though if you prefer some chunks of fruit in your ice cream you can easily change this recipe to accommodate that.

And yes, I’m happy that I’m eating cantaloupes again. Now I just need to get my hands on some Pecos cantaloupes, so I can have the best of the best.

Cantaloupe ice cream
Ingredients:
2 cups diced ripe cantaloupe (about 1 cantaloupe)
1 cup heavy cream
2 cups half-and-half
2 eggs
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2-4 tablespoons lime juice (depending on how tart you’d like it to be)
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt

Method:
In a blender, puree the cantaloupe with 1/2 cup half-and-half.

In a pot, cook the cantaloupe puree with the cream and remaining half-and-half on medium heat until warm—do not let it come to a boil. Turn off the heat.

Beat the eggs with the sugar, vanilla, lime juice, ginger and salt. Stir into the eggs 1/2 cup of the warm liquid and then pour egg and cream mixture into the pot.

On medium low, heat this mixture while stirring occasionally for five minutes or until it gets slightly thick. You’ll know it’s ready when it coats the back of your spoon. Cool in the refrigerator for four hours.

Freeze and churn according to your ice-cream maker’s instructions.

Yield: 1 quart

Note: I prefer my fruit ice creams to be smooth, but if you want some cantaloupe chunks, reserve 1 cup of the diced fruit and mix that in with the ice cream a few minutes before it’s done churning.

Keep reading...

Fried pickles

Last week, everyone was talking about fried pickles. Sure, fried pickles are good but why all the sudden interest? Well, apparently a popular TV show about New Jersey beaches (or something like that) had some of its characters eating this Southern delicacy for the very first time.

“Eating fried pickles was a life-changing experience,” said “Jersey Shore” cast member Snooki upon her introduction to said pickles.

Life changing? That’s quite a statement. Now, I enjoy a basket of fried pickles alongside a bowl of buttermilk dressing as much as the next person. But are they a revelation? Let’s take a closer look.



In Texas, we are known for deep frying anything edible. Butter, Coke, bacon, ribs, turkey, lattes, cookie dough, peanut butter sandwiches—all have been dipped in batter and hot oil in the name of making delectable food. Heck, after you’ve had a serving of fried bacon, a fried pickle might even seem rather mundane.

But, fortunately, they’re not.

If you’ve never had fried pickles, you’re in for a treat. I tend to find fried food a bit heavy, yet fried pickles are a tangy, crisp treat made just a tad more decadent with the crunchy breading. The acidity of the pickle stands up well to the breading and frying unlike some foods such as vegetables, which I feel often lose their flavor and snap once they’ve been fried.

Making fried pickles is easy, as long as you’re comfortable with some popping grease and sticky hands. I’d have to say that the most difficult decision is whether to fry pickle spears or chips—one of the most hotly contested issues in the world of pickle frying. Me? I’m a pickle-chip gal myself since they take less time to fry, are less likely to get mushy and—most importantly—they’re easier to pop in your mouth.



There’s also the question of breading. While I usually prefer a cornmeal dredge for fried vegetables, I find that it doesn’t work so well with dill pickles, so I go with a saltine cracker dredge instead. Of course, these are all my preferences and you may have your own as well. But the best thing about fried pickles is that you don’t have to limit yourself to just cucumber dills, even though they are the classic. Nope, you can fry up pickled okra, pickled jalapeños or any other pickle that you love. As long as they’re tangy and crisp, they’ll be wonderful.

And maybe even life changing.

Fried pickles
2 cups dill pickle chips
1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt plus more to taste
1 teaspoon black pepper plus more to taste
1 egg
1/2 cup buttermilk
2 cups finely crushed saltines
1/2 teaspoon cayenne
1/2 teaspoon dried dill weed
Salt to taste
Oil for frying

Method:
In a large plastic food-storage bag, mix together the flour, salt and black pepper. Place the pickle chips in the bag and shake until they are well coated.

Mix together the eggs with the buttermilk. Place the crushed saltines on a plate and mix in the cayenne and dill weed. In batches, dip the flour-coated pickles into the eggs and then lightly dredge in the saltines. Place cracker-coated pickles on a large plate or sheet. Repeat until all the pickles are coated.

In a large, heavy skillet heat 1/2 inch of oil on medium heat until it reaches 350 degrees. Cook the pickles for one minute or until golden brown, turning once. Depending on the size of your skillet will probably have to do in several batches. Drain on paper towels.

Serve immediately with your favorite buttermilk dressing.

Yield: 2-4 servings

Keep reading...

Purple hull pea salad

I’ve been working on the pickle section of my book, and I’ve concluded that just about anything can be brined and preserved. Fruit, vegetables, meat, and eggs—it’s a rare food that doesn’t get a flavor boost from vinegar, spices, aromatics, salt and (sometimes) sugar. So when I was trying to come up with new ways to serve the pounds of purple hull peas I brought back with me from Texas, my decision was simple: I’d pickle my purple hull peas.

If you’ve never had the pleasure of eating purple hull peas, they’re a field pea that is similar to black-eyed peas, but with a more delicate and sweet flavor. They’re also prettier with their light-purple blush.



My family never grew purple-hull peas because apparently with these good looks comes high maintenance—they’re a lot tougher to shell than other field peas. But if you do persist, you will be rewarded with a creamy, light pea that needs little adornment to taste wonderful.

In Texas, this time of year you will find fresh purple-hull peas sold on the side of the road, at farmers markets and at many grocery stores, too. I’ve never seen them sold fresh, frozen or dried in New York, which is why I’ve taken to stocking up if I happen to make it home during the summer. Though if you live in Texas, you’ll find them year round in the freezer section as well as fresh during the summer.

The simplest way to prepare them is to boil them for about half an hour, with some aromatics such as onion and garlic. You can also throw in some bacon and jalapeños if you’re feeling bold. And with just a sprinkle of salt and a wedge of cornbread, you’ll have yourself a fine feast.

To stave off summer’s heat, however, I wanted to make something cold and tangy. So instead of serving a steaming bowl, I instead tossed my cooked peas with some lime juice, jalapeños, peppers, garlic and olive oil, stuck them in a jar and refrigerated them. And yep, I decided that they were indeed pickled!



These go well with chips, in a scooped-out tomato, tossed in a salad or simply eaten on their own. And if you can’t find purple hull peas, you can easily substitute black-eyed peas.

What do you like to make with purple hull peas?

Purple hull pea pickled salad
Ingredients:
4 cups of shelled purple hull peas, uncooked (or 2 15-oz cans drained and rinsed of all juice)
2 cloves fresh garlic, minced
1-2 jalapeño chiles, finely diced (amount based on how hot you want the salad!)
1 ripe tomato, diced
1/2 cup cilantro, chopped
1/2 teaspoon cumin
1/4 teaspoon cayene
1/2 cup olive oil
2 tablespoons lime juice
Salt and black pepper to taste

Method:
If using fresh purple hull peas, place them in a pot and cover with water. Bring to a boil and then simmer for 40 minutes or until tender. Drain.

Mix the purple hull peas with the garlic, jalapeños, tomato, cilantro, cumin, cayenne, olive oil and lime juice. Add salt and black pepper to taste.

Chill for 4 hours and then serve. Can serve in a scooped-out tomato, with tortilla chips or as a stand-alone side dish.

Yield: 4-6 servings

Here’s a place to mail order canned purple hull peas, if you’re interested.

Keep reading...

Blueberry peach cornmeal cobbler

I stayed with a friend in Austin this past week. When I arrived at her house, I handed her a Fredericksburg peach that I’d picked up in the Hill Country. And before I even had a chance to sit down, she had sliced the peach in half and shared it with her daughter.

Later that night, I offered to pick up the tab at dinner to thank my friends for letting me sleep at their place. “Are you kidding?” said my friend. “You brought us peaches. You’ve already repaid us more than enough!”

Earlier in the week, I had spent the night at my grandma’s farm. Her peach tree was full of fruit, but they weren’t quite ripe. Fortunately, my mom had brought a box of Fairfield peaches on a recent visit. And before I even had a chance to sit down, my grandma had deftly peeled one of the peaches and cut it into slices to share.





As we were eating the peach slices and wiping the juice off of our chins, my grandma asked if I wanted her to bake me my favorite pie—chocolate. “Are you kidding?” I said. “When the peaches are in season, I want a peach pie instead!”

What is it about peaches? Those few weeks in summer when they are ripe and in abundance, people can’t get enough of this soft juicy fruit. And while I may be biased, I feel that Texas peaches are the best and I’m pleased that I happened to be visiting when they were in season.

My preferred way of eating them is fresh off the tree, warm from the sun. But sometimes you might want another preparation as well. Blueberries are in abundance right now as well, and one of my favorite combinations is to pair this tart berry with sweet peaches in a cobbler.

Like many of you, I have several fruit cobbler recipes. But I recently came across a cornmeal cobbler recipe in the Houston Chronicle and thought I’d give the topping a try. I’m glad I did. I believe that fruits and vegetables that share a season naturally go well together. Corn is also now in season, which is why I think cornmeal goes so well with these fruits.



And in case you’re wondering, my grandma did bake me a peach pie. But because she couldn’t resist, she also baked me a chocolate pie as well. I have to say, it’s always good to go home, no matter the season!

Where do your favorite peaches come from?

Blueberry peach cornmeal cobbler (adapted from the Houston Chronicle)
For the topping:
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup yellow cornmeal
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
4 tablespoons cold butter
1/2 cup heavy cream or half & half

For the filling:
1 1/2 pounds peaches
1 cup blueberries
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1/4 cup sugar
1 tablespoon cornstarch
1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon

Method:
Preheat the oven to 375 and grease a 9-inch cake pan.

For the peaches, to peel them cut an X at both ends of the peaches. Add them to a pot of boiling water for 30 seconds, scoop out, rinse with cold water and then peel off the skin. Slice the peaches and remove the pits. You should have about 4 cups

To make the topping, in a bowl mix together the flour, cornmeal, baking powder, sugar, salt and cinnamon. With knives, a pastry blender or your hands, work the cold butter into the dry ingredients until it’s crumbly. Stir in the heavy cream until all ingredients are combined. The dough will be really sticky—this is how it’s supposed to be so don’t be worried.

Place the peaches and blueberries into the greased cake pan. Toss the fruit with the lemon juice, sugar, cornstarch and cinnamon. Spoon the batter on top and bake uncovered for 30 minutes or until brown and bubbling.

Yield: 8 servings

Apparently, I’m not alone in thinking that blueberries and peaches are mighty fine with a cornmeal-cobbler topping as Deb at Smitten Kitchen and David at Leite’s Culinaria have recently published recipes for this dessert as well. So if you haven’t given this combination a try yet, what are you waiting for?

Keep reading...