The Cheese Course: Cheddar & Chutney

It's not that I don't have a sweet tooth; I most assuredly do. There were kids I knew in grade school who were able to nurse their Halloween stash through till Christmas (unnatural, I know). Mine was gone in a week (yes, I'm lying: it was gone in two days). I am not even that discriminating when it comes to sweets--I can enjoy an opera cake from a fancy Paris patisserie, or a sack of Jelly Bellies; fine Swiss chocolate, or Oreos dunked in a glass of milk . I was close to becoming addicted to the peanut brittle we got from Regina's Candies at Christmas. By no means am I anti-sugar.

But when one reaches a certain age one finds (so I'm told) that one can't consume just any old thing and not pay for it, sooner rather than later. You're called upon to make wise choices about these things, and I find that in choosing how I'd like to end a really nice dinner, I choose cheese.

One recent night, we chose cheddar cheese and chutney. The ten-year-old Wisconsin cheddar came from Bolen Vale Cheese . The chutney I put together out of root cellar holdings, more or less following a recipe from a really interesting book, Preserving Food Without Freezing or Canning , from "the gardeners and farmers of Terre Vivante," an ecological research center in southwestern France.

A recipe for "Potimarron and Apple Chutney" had caught my eye. I didn't have a potimarron on hand--it's a smallish orange squash that's supposed to taste like chestnuts--but I had something that looked quite similar. I think that's actually a red kuri. It had a dense, dry flesh that held up well in the chutney. Those shriveled apples, those are golden russets that we picked up at Maiden Rock Apples last fall. And that is why they are shriveled. But once peeled and chopped they worked very well in the chutney, their mildly spicy, Asian-pear-like flavor intensified by being...shriveled (but we don't throw grapes or plums away when they start to get dried and wrinkly, do we?; no, we give them a new name and a whole new career in a different spot in the grocery store; nothing wrong with slightly shriveled apples, especially russets).

To make the chutney I chopped one medium onion, peeled and chopped the flesh of those two apples, and used about a third of the squash, seeded, peeled and chopped (that yielded about 10 ounces of flesh).

Those went into a saucepan with one large clove of garlic, chopped, a couple good pinches of salt, half a teaspoon of mustard seeds, three whole cloves, a good coarse grind of black pepper, one small hot dried red chili, just about an inch-long piece of cinnamon stick, and a little bit of chopped fresh ginger. I poured in a half-cup of water, brought it to the boil and down to a low simmer, cooked gently till the apples and squash were quite soft and most of the water was gone, about 20 minutes.

At this point I added cider vinegar, about 1/3 cup (a combination of some of our own home-brew, and because that wasn't quite tart enough, a fortifying splash of Leatherwood Vinegary product), and 3 tablespoons of brown sugar. I found it needed a pinch more salt, as well. Now simmer another 15 to 20 minutes, until everything is getting nicely melded.

Eventually I decided I wanted a little more heat, so I added a quarter-teaspoon or so of piment d'espelette (a couple of pinches of cayenne would zip it up as well).

Chutneys improve with a few days' to a few weeks' age. We first had this one the same day I made it. There was plenty left over--it made about a pint--and I'm looking forward to chutney and cheese sandwiches. I think this particular version would be very good with roast lamb, pork, or goat.

Making chutneys or relishes from root cellar ingredients is a great way to add interest to the winter table, "locavore" style. The only non-local ingredients that went into that cheese course were the brown sugar and spices.


text and photos copyright 2009 by Brett Laidlaw

Seared Salad

It's a bit like Chinese landscape painting, cooking from the northern winter larder. Although the palate is limited, the elements somewhat sparse, the restrictions can in fact be liberating. You're able to consider familiar things in a different light, place them in new roles.

I can't say whether it arose from a stroke of culinary genius, or from the sheer boredom of contemplating yet another cole slaw, but one night I decided to fry the salad. And it turned out really, really well.

In fact, I'd been meaning to try this for quite some time, this tweaked combination of three of the most constant foods in our winter kitchen--cabbage, apples, and squash. What brought them together was two other local products, Hay River Pumpkin Seed Oil from near Prairie Farm, Wisconsin (which is just a few miles from our Bide-A-Wee), and an apple wine vinegar from the Leatherwood Vinegary in Long Prairie, Minnesota. I bought the vinegar at Local D'Lish in downtown Minneapolis. Hay River is the first and only brand of American pumpkin seed oil, and Leatherwood is the only vinegary in Minnesota; they helped make this delicious salad unique, indeed.

This really was an intensely local meal: Grilled Hilltop Pastures Family Farm pork cutlets (off a shoulder roast, very economical) glazed with Talking Oak Farm buckwheat honey (another Prairie Farm, WI product) atop Sunrise Creative Gourmet fettuccine tossed with a little Hope Creamery butter. The butternut squash and cabbage were from Julie Pflaum of our Midtown Farmers' Market , and the apples from another Midtown colleague, Havlicek's Veseli Vrsek Happy Hill Orchard . We drank a bottle of Hauser's Colonial apple wine from the Bayfield Winery .

This works equally well as a starter or side dish.


Seared Salad of Butternut Squash, Cabbage, and Apples
serves four

1 butternut squash
2 apples, peeled, seeded, and quartered
2 wedges cabbage, about three inches at the wide end

grapeseed or canola oil

2 Tbsp pumpkin seed oil (or olive oil if you don't have this)
1 Tbsp apple wine vinegar (or another good vinegar--I realize these specific products may be difficult to find)

coarse salt
freshly ground black pepper

Remove the solid top of the squash, and use the lower part, around the seed cavity. Cut the lower part in half and scoop out the seeds. Peel the squash with a peeler or paring knife. Cut two strips per person, a bit more than an inch wide.

Heat a heavy skillet and add a couple teaspoons of grapeseed or canola oil. Add the cabbage and apples and cook over medium-high heat. Check the apples frequently, and keep turning them to brown on all sides. Let the cabbage develop a nice sear on the first cut side, then turn it over to sear the other side.

Remove the apples and cabbage when they're nicely seared--they won't be cooked through, just colored and softened a bit. Add a little more oil and the squash slices. Cook over medium-high heat till the first side is well browned, then turn the squash over and brown the other side. When both sides of the squash are browned, add 3/4 cup of water. Cover the pan and steam the squash until the squash is tender, four or five minutes.

To assemble: Cut each cabbage wedge in two--as if you were butterfly-ing a shrimp, but in this case, cut all the way through. On each plate place a half-wedge of cabbage, seared side up. Arrange two slices of squash and two pieces of apple on top of the cabbage.

Mix together the pumpkin seed oil and apple wine vinegar (or subs of your choice). Drizzle the dressing over the salad and a bit around the edge of the plate for superfluous gourmet garnish. Sprinkle a good pinch of coarse salt (gray sea salt would be my choice) and give it a grind of fresh black pepper.



Text and photos copyright 2009 by Brett Laidlaw