Jon Ashton - Me Blog http://www.jonashton.com/ en-us Jon Ashton Enterprises Jon Ashton - Me Blog http://www.jonashton.com/images/logo.jpg http://www.jonashton.com/ 144 49 <![CDATA[Mr. Wimpy Saves the Day]]> Thu, 29 Jul 2010 00:00:00 GMT     Growing up in Liverpool, my first two experiences with hamburgers were not as memorable as one would have wished for. My cousin, Dougie, brought a tin of hamburgers to my home. The hamburger meat, if you can call it that, was drowned in mysterious brown gravy. Even as an overweight child, who was pleased by most foods, I questioned the integrity of meat from a tin.  The terrible taste was second to the fear my brother instilled in me, insisting that the contents in the tin were actually chopped up bits of E.T. I guess he never had a chance to “phone home”.  
 
My second hamburger attempt became more of a reluctant force-feeding after a football match. I begged my extremely inebriated Uncle Eddy for fish and chips, but once he saw the long queue, he realized he needed to find me something quickly so he could make it to the pub before his buzz wore off.  Instead of lovely fish and chips, I was served an over-braised, waterlogged piece of street meat by a vendor who looked like he had been working all day as a bin man (garbage man).  I am not sure to this day if it was the braising liquid or the vendor’s unclean hands, but for two days I prayed to the porcelain gods.
 
Those two experiences put me off of hamburgers for years.  Why would anyone want to try anything so god-awful?  But the American marketing schemes made the hamburger look like the iconic fixture in US culture as it remains today.  Captain Harold Dobey from Starsky and Hutch devoured his hamburgers and Wimpy from my Popeye cartoons couldn’t seem to get enough.  The burger seemed full of promise and I continued to be intrigued.  I recall asking Granny Ashton if she had ever tried one. She simply smiled. I am still not sure what that coy smile meant. Did she somehow know that in the future the burger would develop into the largest food franchise?
 
It wasn’t until I received an invitation to my friend, James’s, birthday party at the very first McDonald’s in Liverpool city center that I tried a hamburger worth going back for seconds. James’s dad asked if I was grown up enough to eat a big Mac.  I said, “Sure am!”  I gingerly opened the cardboard box with my small hands. Smiling back at me was a scrumptious burger perfectly stamped with sesame seeds arranged like Van Gogh’s Starry Night.  Stacked as high as a skyscraper, the four corners of the cheese draped the 1.6 oz burger like a fitted yellow tablecloth. Crisp, crinkled, yet tasteless, iceberg confetti played peek-a-boo outside of the bun. As I lifted the burger to my mouth, I opened it as wide as Steven Tyler’s lyrical grin and felt my taste buds sprinkle and spatter with delight.  I gently took a bite from the three tiered, soft, pillow-like buns. As my lips touched the outside of the bread, a small amount of piquant-sweet special sauce found the sides of my mouth and slowly made its way to my tongue.  Next, I felt the thinly sliced gherkins summersault in my mouth dashing around an unsuspecting group of cart wheeling onions.  I was 13 and I felt a fleeting moment of pure food bliss.  And just as I thought that my food delight was complete, I found a small puddle of excess Big Mac sauce (thousand island dressing variant) in the bottom of the cardboard box that could be chased around with French fries like a closing scene from Benny Hill.  I was finally introduced to the friend I had been dreaming of.  I could clearly see why Mr. Wimpy was so happy!
 
Although my experience at James’s birthday party was memorable, as an adult, I hardly ever visit McDonalds as I really enjoy coking my own burgers.  After some failed attempts from childhood, I’ve most certainly made up for my losses with this delicious recipe.  Here’s to you, Wimpy!
 
 


Double Cheese Burger with Tomato and Balsamic Glaze
The bread adds a chewy texture to the cheese offers a delightful creaminess and your palate left with a pepperyness from the arugula


Ingredients


1 ½ pounds ground chuck


1/4 cup chopped fresh basil, shredded


2 garlic cloves, minced


1/2 teaspoon kosher salt


Coarsely ground black pepper


1/3 cup  Pinot Noir


4 tablespoons Boursin cheese


4 (1-ounce) slices mozzarella cheese


4 slices beefsteak tomato


2 tablespoons balsamic glaze


1 cup Arugula leaves


4 Ciabatta or Focaccia buns


Instructions


1. If you will be grilling the burgers, preheat a barbecue grill to medium-high.


2. Combine meat, basil, garlic, salt and pepper.


3. Form into 4 patties. Make an indentation in center of each burger
(where you will put the tablespoon of Boursin cheese in the next step.


4. When you are ready to grill the burgers, oil the grill grate well. Grill to desired doneness.

5. To plate, place arugula on bottom halves of buns. (You can grill buns if you like)

6. Top with burger, Boursin cheese, followed by mozzarella cheese and tomato slice. Finally, drizzle with a little balsamic glaze to complete this heavenly burger.

Serves 4





]]> <![CDATA[New Haven’s Pizza Amore]]> Mon, 19 Jul 2010 00:00:00 GMT What’s the best way to set a New Havenite’s knickers into a twist? Ask which restaurant serves the best pizza! I recently asked this very question at the Fox CT TV station where I was making an appearance.  This simple query was juxtaposed with an array of complex answers. It seems that everyone wanted to champion for his or her favorite spot.  The dividing lines became muddied by three distinct iconic choices: Pepe’s, Sally’s and Modern Apizza.  It appears that nothing spells classic tomato pizza pies like the ones on Wooster until you meet Modern on State Street.  Three irresistible food camps heralding their own individualistic style?  This, of course, ignited my curiosity even further, and I simply had to make the trip to New Haven in pursuance of pizza perfection. After all, food is my profession by trade and eating is my life.   

I am incredibly fortunate that I get to travel across America with my job.  As the Executive chef for the world’s largest food magazine, Relish has taken me all over the planet. I am always in search of new culinary adventures. There is an inexplicable magic of transforming each regional dish into food wizardry. Each combination of flavors serves as a lush estate packed with infinite possibility.  A mystery detective of food, I let my taste buds validate each choreographed composition.  Maybe I should call myself the “Lieutenant Columbo” of cuisine?

Speaking of validation, I mentioned in my last blog how pizza is truly a personal rite of passage based on how it is prepared and consumed.  It seems that our pizza identity is chosen in our early years and we are either enigmatically drawn to thin crust or deep dish. For thin crust, the way we fold the triangular slices becomes an ancient twist on origami.  The crease itself requires a graceful seesaw maneuver forming canals of streaming oil, which deliciously drip and stain through our paper plates onto the tabletop.  The oil spills create their own yummy expression lines showcasing a pizza worth devouring. The beauty of this phenomenon is that pizza can be as uncomplicated as you want it to be. A generous slathering of sauce and a little cheese, met with a chewy, yet inherently pliant crust, is all you need to serve up a wide, oily, child-like grin.  And rightly so, because pizza is the single most popular food in the world.  It is as easily accessible and as comforting as an old worn-in sweater. In fact, it is so comforting, that we consume 33 billion dollars worth of pizza annually from pizzerias across America. That's a lot of slices!

Pizza, itself, has come a long way since 1830 when the world's first pizzeria was founded. Named Port’ Alba, the pizzas were cooked in an oven lined with lava from Mount Vesuvius, a volcano located on the Bay of Naples.  While researching food trends in America, it looks like pizza’s widespread popularity commenced at the end of World War II when non-Italian veterans returning from service in Italy began to crave the sliced pizza reminiscent of the ones they enjoyed over seas.

Of course, pizza has shared its limelight on the big screen too. Remember how John Travolta, as Tony Manero in "Saturday Night Fever," folded one slice around another in the opening sequence? The scene can be understood primarily by a Paean as the perfect pizza crust.

After researching pizza’s heritage and plotting out my journey to New Haven, my mouth starting to salivate over the menagerie of pizza possibilities.  I decided that it was inherently unfair for an Englishman to solely judge New Haven pizza without bringing along some Connecticut natives; namely my adopted grandparents, Pops and Nan. 

As to not betray our diverse taste buds, I immediately decided that the only way to uncover the generational rivalries of all three New Haven pizza families was to eat a single pie from each place in a direct side-by-side comparison.  Sounds easy? Not so much!  First, you have to have an ordering system in place so that all three pies come out at the same time.  My GPS stated that Modern is on State Street, a six-minute drive from Wooster Street.  My adopted granddad (84 years young) allowed 10 minutes to be on the safe side. After figuring out the overall proximity between restaurants, we phoned Pepe's.  Oh my... busy for eight attempts before connecting.  We ordered one medium pie with half sausage and half clam with mozzarella or “mootz” as the locals lovingly suggested.  We were informed that the wait was one hour.  With one order down and two more to go, we called Sally’s 26 times in 30 minutes.  Busy, busy, busy.  Actually, the White House would have been easier for me to call.  In the meantime, we managed to order a pie from Modern Apizza fairly quickly. 

 

I wasn’t about to let a busy phone signal derail my mission, so I nipped into Sally's past the queue that had formed outside.  I have to admit, the restaurant set up was quite unusual.  For a moment, I thought I was on the set of a Steven Spielberg movie.  The main guy shoveling the pizzas in and out of the oven was covered in soot.  He truly looked like he had been shoveling coal in a mine.  His overall demeanor was zombie-like.  Hunched over the pizza, was a short paunchy Italian guy who was using his bare hands to smear tomato sauce over the thin dough while another assembly line staffer seemed to be joyfully adorning the unbaked pizza with pepperoni jewels. I thought to myself, “I get it. I understand how this place rocks the world of the locals. I can see why Frank Sinatra loved this place, and I understand why they haven't cleaned it since Sinatra last visited.”  Maybe dust is a key component to their tasty sauce?

 

With billed paid, I headed off to Pepe's (the oldest pizzeria in New Haven; est.1925) whilst Pops and Gran picked up the pizza from Modern.  Groups of friends, couples, and families alike, patiently waited outside of the packed restaurant for 45 minutes awaiting a gleeful slide into the vinyl, high backed booths surrounding retro-Formica tables. Unlike Sally’s atmospheric disarray, Pepe’s felt more spacious and clean.  I spied the guys working the oven straight away.  The largest pizza paddles I have ever seen, gingerly moved in and out of the oversized brick ovens. In fact, I immediately thought the staffers could have doubled as gondolier guides in Venice. With each pie that was laid in the scorching oven, another triumphantly emerged bubbling with cheese, piping hot.  Distinctive aromatic wafts of oregano, grated Parmesan, and minced garlic filled the air, which playfully flounced around a swirling skirt of earthy charred crust setting my anticipation into a fiery frenzy. 

 

With Pepe’s pie in hand, I met up with Pops and Gran at Modern. The interior was nothing to write home about but felt, well, more modern, even though it’s been around since 1934. The guy on the register informed us that they sell over a thousand pizzas a night. Now that’s some serious ca-ching!

 

With all three pizzas purchased and begging to be consumed, it was time for the great New Haven pizza challenge.  With any great taste testing, there are categories and rules to abide by for fair and equitable judging. Here were mine:

 

Pizza Appearance and Flavor

·Crust – doneness, shape, thickness/texture, seasoning, color, overall presentation, aroma, oil content

·Cheese & Toppings- even melting, correct use of product, even baking, complementing flavors

·Sauce - flavor, spice level, thickness, color

 

As any avid taste tasters are instructed to do, we ripped, grabbed, tore, and swallowed down the three pies. Gran and Pop were on a serious sausage mission, while I was on clam duty. My burning question?  Was Frank Sinatra as good as judging pizza as he was as belting out a classic tune?  It has been said that the clam pizza from Sally's was his favorite, and he once sent a driver two hours from NYC to pick it up.

 

In the end, the votes were tallied in Pepe’s favor, specifically for overall appearance, crust, and flavor. Pops said he loved the sausage from Pepe's best. However, he thought the crust was over done. However, just like Baby Bear in Goldilocks, Gran thought Pepe’s crust was “just right”.  I have to agree.  With a critical eye, I wish Pepe’s had been less frugal with the clams, and I wish Sally's would have been a little more generous with the cheese.

 

Frank Pepe, I zap this email out across the sky as an honorable pizza memorial.  Now that’s amore! 

 

P.S. Many thanks to my adopted grandparents, Bob and Eleanor Reeve, for loving me and putting up with my culinary adventures.

]]> <![CDATA[New England Lobster Tales]]> Thu, 15 Jul 2010 00:00:00 GMT “As I ate the oysters with their strong taste of the sea and their faint metallic taste that the cold white wine washed away, leaving only the sea taste and the succulent texture, and as I drank their liquid from each shell and washed it down with the crisp taste of the wine, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy again and make plans.”     -A Moveable Feast; Ernest Hemingway

                 With the rat race of work and personal responsibility, we sometimes find our “normal” leaves us with involuntary teeth grinding in our sleep, or strong arming the person in front of us to be first in line, or we simply over-caffeinate ourselves just to make it to the next meeting. In life, we must take a holiday and turn away all forms of modern technology, even for a week, to gain perspective, awaken our dulled senses, and to truly emerge ourselves in the everyday beauty that surrounds us. My secret getaway this past week was Cape Cod. I found myself partaking in simple childlike activities…diving into the ocean with full abandon, building sand castles in the wet sand, and filling my daily plate with lobster…always lots of laub-stah (as the natives say).

Arriving on the Cape, I find myself immediately transformed. Deadlines melt away and my shoulders unlock from below my ears. Immediately, my smile becomes as wide as my cheek bones. I am happy!

I take a snapshot in my mind of electric blue waves wrestling with their turquoise cousins across an ocean marked with white caps. My beautiful Monet ocean-scape is dotted with soft granules of sand stretching to reach the ragged green shoots of sea grass. Behind the picturesque scene stands a magnificent white lighthouse beckoning its onlookers while delivering a regal salute. Its shoulders stand firmly back as if standing at attention. Her majesty requires a watchful eye bringing safe shelter to the boats motoring quietly in her harbor.

I inhale my surroundings. There is a distinct smell of English rose petals, blue hydrangea, and salt water that bring precious memories to the forefront. The crisp sea air is a delicate balance between salty and sweet, heavy, and light. As I lumber my suitcase across the cobble stone square, I take notice of the antique street lamps that hold the ancient secrets of the old whaling captains. The historic homes, lining the paths to the beach, snuggle together to protect their cedar thatched siding against the ripping gale force winds of late summer hurricanes.

My first meal is enjoyed with some friends and strangers alike. We spread out on a big wrap-around porch overlooking the harbor. We invite a bucket of hand picked “steamers” to our table. The little neck clams arrive piping hot in their open shells while lazily floating down a river of white wine and garlic butter. With each bite, a cornucopia of flavors take turns spring-boarding off my tongue. I am reminded that I am on holiday, taking some time to truly relax. An extra big sip of chilled champagne bubbles fizzle away the ever so slight flavor of metallic seawater. Crusty bread drowned in garlicky clam juice form a pleasant sweetness commencing a week of blissful harmony.

The next morning, I meet tranquility at the edge of the fishing harbor after cutting my way through a thorny brush that leads to a private oasis. This particular piece of land rolls out to an area surrounding a breathtaking lighthouse, where the water is brackish and perfect for clamming. I am mesmerized by an older gentleman fishing waist high in bright canary yellow waders. The burly middle-aged man makes surprisingly graceful moves as he poetically digs for Quahog clams. I move to the edge of the surf and draw “life is yummy” in fanciful loops on the wet sand with my big toe.

Soon the waves wash my faux art out to sea making me perfectly aware that I am only a temporary visitor in this magical spot. The spray of water lovingly massages my tired calves. The soft winds gently tousle my hair. I feel a momentous shift in spirit and my feet become unglued from the sand. I take particular notice that my heavy boots, similar to my sand inscription, have been washed out to sea.

My next few steps are filled with airy grace. I move blindly forward, not looking back but instead let out a childlike giggle. I impress that very moment into my collection of happy flashes of time. I am letting life happen without trying to categorize the emotion. I have never felt so grateful for where I am in this very moment. I pray in complete gratitude for all the good that has been imparted on my life. I especially take time to be thankful for the miracles that have been bestowed upon me over the past year. All of life’s hurdles and triumphs are all brought together in imperfect culmination. The future looks bright.

As I retreat back to the old wooden wrap-around porch at my hotel, the warm bright summer days of July remind me that soon the citrus sun will be settling earlier and that fall is playing hide and seek in the next town over. She is lacing up her dance shoes to mark her celestial entrance into autumn’s ball. Every season marks a beginning and an end. Just like the vacation that rode me in on soft waves, I am being washed back out in peaceful grace. My memories of my time in Cape Cod can bring me back at any moment and I can’t wait to take my daughter, Victoria Mei here one-day. Just like the Hemingway excerpt, I lost the empty feeling and began to be happy and make plans.

There is nothing like great lobster rolls on a warm summer day. Here’s a reader favorite from Relish Magazine that brings a twist on the classic favorite. Enjoy!



New England Lobster Rolls

Ingredients
4 (1- to 1 1/4-pound) lobsters
5 tablespoons mayonnaise
1 tablespoon finely chopped tarragon
1/8 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
4 hot dog rolls
2 to 3 tablespoons softened butter

Instructions
1. Place lobsters head first in a large pot of boiling water. Boil with the lid slightly ajar 9 to 10 minutes or until lobsters are bright red. Transfer to a large bowl of ice water to stop the cooking and cool 2 to 3 minutes. Remove the meat from the shell and cut into 1/2-inch pieces. (You’ll have about 2 cups).
2. Combine mayonnaise, tarragon and pepper with lobster and refrigerate.
3. Generously butter inside surfaces of rolls; spread outside sparingly. Heat a skillet over medium and add opened rolls, inside facing down. Toast 1 to 2 minutes or until golden. Turn and toast outsides until lightly golden.
4. Fill rolls with chilled lobster salad and serve immediately.

Serves 4.


                   
                          
                                              It really is, If you want it to be....
]]> <![CDATA[All You Need Is Love ]]> Thu, 08 Jul 2010 00:00:00 GMT All You Need is Love, Love Me Do, All My Loving and countless other love songs epitomize the human need for affection, connection, and purpose.  In our search for true love, we try to capture its essence, but love can be mysterious and elusive. In my travels, I like to ask couples how they first met and what they think makes their relationship special. But this week, I was retold a beautiful love story that has burned brightly for 57 years. It is a tale we can all learn something from as it is based on mutual respect, sacrifice, adaptability, compassion, graciousness, and unconditional love.

 Now you may ask, why is a chef writing about love?  Well, love is the main ingredient in all of my recipes, and it is the connective tissue that holds us all together. I want my blog to be a place where I can write about what I am feeling and the recipes for life I have learned along the way.

This past week I was on a media tour through New England.  When visiting there I stay with my adopted grandparents. When I say adopted, it is a verbal adoption and it occurred six years ago at the Epcot Food & Wine Festival.  I asked the crowd if there were any wealthy families that would like to adopt me.  Gran and Pop enthusiastically replied, “We are not wealthy, but we will adopt you.” Ever since that day, I have been their adopted English grandson and proud of it too.

Gran is from Germany and she experienced a childhood that I would never wish on my worst enemy.  She was held in a concentration camp during the war and sadly watched her brother die of malnutrition. Most people would feel so defeated that they could not move on from some tragic events. However, Gran’s immense personal strength and incredible character was born from such things and the gratitude she has in life has lent itself to her immense love for Pops.

 Their love story began in Germany, 1952.  Pops was sitting in a U.S. military vehicle in Germany with four soldiers and his eyes fixated on Gran walking by. She was an attractive, well-dressed woman with an electric smile. He asked her to chat and at first she ignored him.  She was told by her parents never to talk to anyone in an American uniform. To make Gran feel more at ease, he pulled rank and told the other soldiers to get lost.  Still Gran felt unsure if she should be in the presence of an American solider.  Pops, being Pops, would not give in and he made some small talk and after a while she excused herself with a coy smile and went on to her sister’s home.

 Pops, not knowing where she lived, went back to the spot they first met every night at the same time in hopes that she would walk by again. His heart began to dance and sing at the very thought of seeing her beautiful face and charming smile. He would sit in his car, scanning all the mirrors hoping to catch her in his line of sight if only for one more stolen moment.  This is what movies like the Notebook are made of. (P.S. A true test of compatibility is to watch this movie to see who cries first) We see characters falling into each other’s arms, cupid firing two arrows at once, and star crossed lovers fighting an unrequited affair, but this magical spell was real and brings us all hope that if we are patient, there is someone out there made specifically for us.  So, Pops was struck with the love bug from the moment he spied Gran.  He liked the challenge and knew that she would be his wife and the mother to their beautiful children.

 After a painstaking two weeks, they met again in the very same spot with hearts filled with promise.  Their bellies were full of butterflies and the giddy anticipation of their first kiss was omnipresent. Soon after, they were married in a small German church in the town of Hechingen, Germany. Later they settled in Connecticut where they still reside today.

Their love grew into a majestic garden, which continues to bloom well into their golden years.  When I asked them separately what ingredients made their relationship last, the common denominator was being each other’s best friend.  Their advice to young couples in love is that there needs to be give and take, communication, and understanding in order to ensure success.  They always have each other’s best interest at heart, which keeps their love burning.  Laughter has lightened their moods when times have been tough and Gran’s delicious cooking has fed Pop’s heart and belly for years.  In fact, when I asked Pops to describe the best meal Gran cooks, he told me that the question is impossible to answer. After 57 years, Gran still wants to please him and that she still wonders if her food is good enough. Pops knows good food feeds the soul.

 In today's busy life, we don't see the love that old classic movies are built upon.  In fact, most of my friends are single and those who are not seem to be fairly unhappy. I know that Pops and Gran’s story is one to be admired and with faith and a little luck, it can be recreated with a modern twist for all who are searching for it.  Never give up because you don’t know what is happily waiting for you around each corner. Open your eyes and open your heart, love will find you eventually.

 Let it be said that I am not a relationship expert and I have had my share of disappointments which had me curled up in a ball watching the Hallmark Channel with a gallon of ice cream (as an appetizer…) I can only speak to what I’ve learned and what I’d like to have. Whether you are in a relationship now or are on your own search for love, it is important to know that our past is just that: in our past.  Each relationship we have encountered has shaped us in some way.  We should take the positive out of each past relationship and move on in hopes that our next companionship will be built to last. Hope is what keeps us moving forward.

If you are in a relationship, continue to surprise each other. Take the extra time to compliment your mate.  Steal a kiss or take the time to go out on a date (even if your kids have run you ragged and you just want to sleep). Show generosity to one another, write an old-fashioned love letter, pack a picnic dinner under the stars.  Be grateful for the time you have together. Don’t have too many expectations; let love grow naturally.  Look for the goodness in the person you are with instead of being overly critical and missing out on her best parts.  Slow dancing on a dock or hiking through a snowy trail are all special gifts that continue to reignite the flames of love.

Gran and Pop, thank you for inspiring me to write this blog.  Thank you for helping me think outside of my chef’s jacket and reminding me that in this life, all you need is love.

Recipe for Love

-2 Open hearts

-Large handfuls of laughter

-1 Long yummy kiss

-2 Tablespoons belief

-2 Cups trust

-Pinch of fairy dust

-Tbsp of kindred spirit

Place all ingredients in a large bowl with plenty of room to grow. Gently fold together with a smile. Place in a romantic room. Sprinkle daily with compassion, graciousness, and gratitude. Don’t forget to savor its delicious flavor.

 Serves 2.
]]> <![CDATA[Cool As A Cucumber.]]> Mon, 28 Jun 2010 00:00:00 GMT On a recent trip to the Union Square Farmer’s Market in NY, I became enthralled with the beautiful seasonal fruits and vegetables that filled the farm-stand booths.  I relished my time conversing with local farmers and applauded their hard work in the fields. The sun was shining on this particular day and I imagined each ray of sunshine permeating a delicious grin on the leafy green varietals spread across the wide planked tables before me.  After examining ripe red raspberries staining their short wooden baskets and fresh green Fava beans begging to be popped open, I spied luscious sweet and sour cherries singing, “Pick me and together we can jubilee”.  As I turned to move to the next lot, my eyes became transfixed on a lovely bunch of ordinary summer cucumbers.  

In a market full of freshly colored beets, abundant heads of broccoli, and flowering herbs, the cucumber became the vibraphone of the orchestra. It was present but not admired.  Truth be told, the cucumber is its own summer star and just like any vibrant symphony it has a prominent position. I couldn’t help but grab several cucumbers to make them feel special. I knew as I put them into my basket that their humbled gratitude would serve as a beautiful medley of the dish we were about to create together.
 
The cucumber is so common that it sometimes does not get a fair shake as far as some of its close relatives.  It’s carefree attitude, peaceful flesh and smooth elongated body may not turn heads but it’s distinctive crunch and watery freshness marries well into summer salads.  Cucumbers certainly can dress up any sandwich. No English tea party is complete without a cucumber sandwich with crusts removed. And in America, Kentucky gave birth to the Benedictine cucumber and cream cheese sandwich, which is widely popular in the region.
 
Although most of us categorize the cucumber as a veggie, its enclosed seeds actually make the cucumber a fruit.  However, not all cucumbers contain seeds. In fact, the English cucumber (to which I am obviously partial) and the Lebanese cucumber are completely seedless. One of the main reasons I like the English cucumber is because the skin isn't as bitter and the seeds are quite palatable, unlike its American cousin. The American varietal requires removal of its dark green bitter skin and their seeds do not taste very pleasant.
 
 Historians believe the cucumber first originated in India and then traveled to both Asia and Europe.  With each cultural transport, the cucumber took on different characteristics.  For instance, the Asian cucumber has ridged bumpy skin. It’s flavor is much more mild and its body remains quite slender.  When in China, I noticed that they preferred their cucumbers cooked or pickled over their raw form.  The Dosakai cucumber from India is yellow in coloring and generally spherical in shape. It is commonly cooked in the form of Riata (cucumber, yogurt, cumin and cilantro) and is best served with curry or even chili.
Every country has its favorite use for the cucumber.  In fact, Jamaicans celebrate them by capitalizing on their high water content squeezing them in a refreshing juice.  The Greeks savor cucumbers as a main staple in their salads and have created a creamy Tzatziki sauce as a crowning  accompaniment. ( FYI: the word Tzatziki itself makes for a great score in Scrabble!)
 
Nutritionally speaking the cucumber does not boast high nutritional content although it is fairly rich in Vitamin A, magnesium, and potassium.  Low in calories, it makes a great natural snack.
 
The refreshment of cucumbers is not limited to food.  They have been used widely as a natural astringent to clean out pores, reduce eye puffiness, soothe sunburns and calm the itchiness from insect bites.
 
The recipes below can be served hot or cold. The chicken dish is a hit at summer picnics and the cold refreshing soup will quench your summer thirst. After just one taste, your friends will realize you are as “cool as a cucumber”.
 
Chicken Cucumber Stir-Fry

1lb boneless chicken breasts, skinned
1lb cucumber
2 tablespoons salt
1 tbsp groundnut oil
1½ tbsp garlic, finely chopped
1 tbsp spring onions, finely chopped
1 tbsp light soy sauce
 1 tbsp sherry
2 tsp chili bean sauce or chili powder
2 tsp sesame oil
 
 
1. Cut the chicken into 1in cubes and set aside.
2. Peel the cucumber, halve it and remove the seeds with a teaspoon. Then cut it into 1in cubes, sprinkle with salt and put the cucumber into a colander to drain for 20 minutes. (This removes the excess water from the cucumber).
3. Next rinse the cucumber cubes in running cold water and blot them dry with kitchen paper.
4. Heat your wok or large frying pan until extremely hot.
5. Add the oil, you will see it river dancing with the heat and slightly smoking, add the chicken and stir-fry them for a few seconds.
6. Add all the other ingredients except the cucumber and continue to stir-fry for another 2 minutes.
7. Now add the cucumber cubes and keep stir-frying the entire mixture for another 3 minutes. Serve at once.
 
Chilled Cucumber and Potato soup

4 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 leeks (white part only) thinly sliced

3 Yukon gold potatoes thinly sliced
1 litre chicken stock

2 English cucumbers, peeled and cubed

1 Boston head of lettuce, shredded

3 tablespoons heavy whipping cream

Salt and freshly ground black pepper

Melt the butter in a large pan and sweat the leeks until soft. Add the chopped potato and chicken stock, bring to a boil and simmer until the potato is tender. Add the chopped cucumbers and lettuce, and simmer for five minutes. Puree in a blender adding more stock if needed. Tip everything back into the pan and stir in two tablespoons of whipping cream. Season with salt and pepper to taste. Chill for a couple of hours.
Serve the chilled soup with a swirl of crème fraîche.
*If you feel you want to impress the Joneses, add a drizzle of white truffle oil and chopped chives.

Enjoy!

             

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