Iron Fork Amateur Competition

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I have a new blog

This project is now complete. I have begun a new blog, called "Leafy Reader". Leafy reader is a collection of short stories inspired by love and produce. I hope you will visit my site and join me in my journey as I discover and re-discover the amazing and expansive landscape of freshly grown foods.

http://leafyreader.blogspot.com/

Salad 90: Fireworks at High Tide Salad

His skin was brown like leather, his hair oily and straggly and dusted with sand, as though he had been a victim of shipwreck. He began each day before the sky's Great Metamorphosis of gray to green to blue; before the heat of the morning cooked out the calm cool of night and attracted gymnasium sounds of tourists.

They came with polo shirts and knee high socks, smelling of suntan lotion, smothered by mineral shade and cabana umbrellas. They wanted the feeling of home and the idea of beach, the TV version of life. The earlybirds who lived vigilantly, certain that somebody else would take the best spot if they didn't get it first, sometimes arrived in time to witness the man sculpting. He ignored them, mostly. He played aloof. They would never know how much he needed them, how he hid in the shade of the lifeguard post and watched their faces for reactions to his work.

The children were always the first to notice. Their little faces exploded in radiance at the sight of the giant alligator, or life-sized mermaid carved intricately out of sand. The young ones had lips painted with purple kool-aid and orange Popsicle, which opened and flowered into smiles. Their fathers, with fresh combed hair, parted crisply to the side, wearing beach shorts tied with drawstrings and walking in flip flops, lost themselves when they came upon his enormous beach tarantulas and hummingbirds. They simply stood, mouths gaping, silently wondering who and why. The women swooned. Contrary to the men, they seemed to get louder and louder as they closed in on the details of the sand creatures.

Every day, the ocean would come, and wash away the sharp edges of his fish. His mermaids would melt, his tarantula would return to the beach out of which it was born. He would watch as the tide climbed up the dry sand. It would begin with the toes of his carved princess who sat looking out over the waves as if searching for passing ships, or the nose of a giant diving dolphin. The water would lap up to the edge, and in that moment, the artist would surrender himself completely.

The next morning the artist simply moved down the shoreline and started fresh. Every day, he looked to the beach, trusting his foundation for wisdom.
"What forms would you use me for to create today?" he would say.
Always the beach would answer.

The dressing:
whisk together 4 Tbsp olive oil, 2 Tbsp white wine vinegar, 1 tsp Dijon mustard, salt, pepper, 1 clove minced garlic, a drizzle of lemon juice (add tarragon if you like).

The Salad: My purpose in making this salad was to treat each individual ingredient with respect to it's nature before bringing them all together to work as a group. Heat some water to boiling and blanch 1/2 bunch of asparagus for just a min or two. Drain and rinse with cold water. Heat another pot of water to boiling and blanch 8 quartered baby bella mushrooms (or crimini). Drain and rinse. Scatter some diced romaine tops onto a plate. No dressing is needed for the lettuce, because the dressing from the veggies on top will drain down. Now toss each ingredient individually in the dressing and place decoratively on the plate. 1/6 purple cabbage, 3/4 cup garbanzos, 3 diced carrots, 1/2 head fennel, mushrooms, asparagus. Top with 1/2 avocado drizzled with lemon juice.

Christina's vote: "this salad gave me a sense of identity"

What Do You Do With Abundance? Salad

It is Saturday and the weather woke up stormy. Clouds gathered in an ominous purple sky. When I put on my running clothes I felt like a small child. I had 21 miles to cover before lunchtime and I was sure to get poured on before the adventure was through. I returned my ipod to it's home in the drawer and felt instant pangs of separation anxiety, like a child divorced from her baby blanket. I began to worry. Would I get bored, cold, lonely, struck by lightening? Worry was interrupted by surrender and I chose to focus on using this silent run to pretend I am a tourist and take mental snapshots of the sights. Storms make fantastic imaginary photography subjects. In order to keep form, I imagine wheels where my legs are supposed to be. These wheels seem to power my imagination further, and soon I am propelled into various adventures of lives not yet lived. At mile 16 it started to rain, and the water felt warm and cleansing. The air was like tea steam and inhaling it was like drinking in leaves. I began to think of the vegetables at the farm stand, how they must be speckled with earth from yesterdays rain. I remembered cooking in southern New Jersey, how at this time of the year bags would appear in the galley overflowing with vegetables looking for hands willing to take on the challenge of cooking them.

Squash, zucchini and eggplant. They seem to proliferate faster than people can get rid of them.
Perhaps you have had them before as a part of a vegetarian entree ordered at a fine restaurant in lieu of the escargot. The pasta primavera was a little bland as you recall, but the chef did manage to cook the colorful vegetables on your plate to lovely perfection.

You have had them in Japanese restaurants, sitting around the lovely little fish pond watching the goldfish pick specks of floating vegetation from between the slimy penny covered rocks. A plate of crisp tempura at your place setting revealed edges of purple, yellow and green from where the batter was torn open, and you proudly announced that you could identify every vegetable on your plate.

You remember liking the eggplant Parmesan and batter fried zucchini that you would order from the Italian restaurants, and the ratatouille cooked out of a vegetarian cookbook at a friends.

Here is a salad featuring these three abundant characters (summer squash, zucchini and eggplant), to add to your collection of memories.

First salt the eggplant. Slice off four giant circles and lay them flat on a paper towel. Sprinkle them with salt and let them sit for a bit, until they begin sweating brown liquid from their pores. You are helping them to detoxify. When the beads of perspiration have gathered into little puddles blot them with a towel.

Slice them into bite sized pieces. In a frying pan, add 2 Tbsp olive oil and 1/2 cup sliced red onions. Allow the pan to get really hot before adding the eggplant. After the eggplant has been added, it is time to start moving quickly. Keep an eye/nose/ear on the eggplant, so that it doesn't burn. If your knife skills are iffy, you may want to turn the heat down.

Mince 2 cloves of garlic and add to the eggplant. Now dice 1/2 yellow summer squash and add it to the pan. Dice 1 small zucchini and add it in. The order is important. Cook everything to your preferred texture (I learned today that Christina likes her eggplant thoroughly cooked while I like mine a little firm. It is very disconcerting to watch someone literally spit out their first bite of eggplant after you have just worked to make it just the way you like it. If you plan to cook eggplant for an audience you are going to need to wear your thickest skin.) When it is done, turn the heat off and allow the vegetables to cool. Add some diced cherry tomatoes, quartered.

The dressing (This sauce is really good on sandwiches or as a vegetable dip): Mix together 1/2 cup mayonnaise, 1 1/2 tsp balsamic vinegar, 8 drops soy sauce, 1 tsp thyme (or some chopped fresh basil).

Christina's vote: "This salad made me feel generous"

Fishing in the Rain Salad

The elevator door opened slowly on the two business casual figures who stood rehearsing their lines for the day. Later this afternoon when it is time to return home their will be scenes performed here, of the casual one line "have a good day" variety, but in the morning, the elevator is a backstage green room.

The man standing next to me smelled strongly of soap. The whites of his eyes were blood red. The woman on the other side of me wore square toed shoes and had a neatly tamed Afro, she looked up to the sky, like a student trying to pull facts from her memory during an exam.

Realizing that I was violating morning elevator etiquette by playing audience to offstage actors, I fumbled with my phone to divert my attention from them. I decided to check the weather. Little icons of thunderstorms, one on top of the other, for the next three days. I stared in disbelief. It didn't feel possible. As I drove out of the parking garage, the gray blue sky seemed benevolent. I couldn't recall the last time it rained, and in that moment I believed thunderstorms a fabricated myth.

I pulled up to a red light. From a seemingly cloudless sky, a single, heavy drop of water landed in the middle of my windshield with a splat. Another followed. In slow motion I stared at the droplets in absolute awe, like a child lost in the miraculous interplay between glass, water, and light. The beaded little creatures left their landing spot and rolled down my windshield, as though it were a grassy hill, bumping and tumbling back and forth in wild and unpredictable glee, pushing with all their weight on the downward edge of the globes they rolled in. Green light cast over my imagery and signaled a Pavlovian instinct to take action. It was time to go.

I remembered myself, and then thought, how strange to forget about the naturalness of rain. After stopping the car I rejoined routine by entering the coffee shop. From his chair, a man with white hair was fishing with words of wisdom, kicking his feet like a schoolboy. He cast his lines and then looked around slowly, reeling with his eyes. He spoke about how if he really saw himself he would forget himself and carry with him a sense of wonder. I sent him a glance and then went back to my head swim. It reminded me of something one of my friends used to say, it is probably a proverb, but I am unsure of the origin. "Sell your cleverness. Buy bewilderment."

Purple kale salad:
in a frying pan, heat 1 Tbsp olive oil and 1 Tbsp toasted sesame oil. When the oil is hot, add a pinch of salt and 1 small diced yellow onion. While the onion cooks mince 1 clove of garlic and add it immediately to the onion. As the onion begins to become translucent, add 1 bunch chopped purple kale. Cook the kale for about 7-10 min. Add 1 tsp soy sauce, 1 tsp rice vinegar and a little squirt of lemon. Eat hot or cold.

Christina's vote: "This salad made me wish for a full moon"

Alternative Hummus Salad

She stood in front of the classroom wearing patchwork pants with brown nubbins in her hair. Her clothing was worn and unwashed, though it had been intentionally made that way. She reminded me of an orphan child in a production of "Oliver Twist". Her presentation partner, who stood next to her, was a slightly taller more blond version of the brown haired girl, but only by appearance and first name. They were self identified members of a freedom movement, a few generations late.

The girl with the brown nubbins, whom we affectionately referred to as "Julie Patchouli" because she walked around saturated in Patchouli essential oil, held in her hands a bundle of dried garlic bulbs. Her presentation partner held a steaming hot cup of tea, which she carried around in an environmentally friendly and socially conscious mason jar.

It was my first week of organic chemistry taught at an ultra liberal alternative college, and we were instructed to pick a topic relevant to organic chemistry and give a short presentation on it. Julie and Julie were giving us a talk on allicin, an organic compound in garlic which antibacterial, anti-fungal, antioxidant, and helps thin your blood. Julie pulled off a clove of garlic and popped it into her mouth raw "it is best if you eat the garlic raw, because chewing releases the enzyme which converts molecules to allicin, if you expose the garlic to air, the allicin content goes down."

I stared at her in amazement. I had never witnessed anyone eat a whole raw clove of garlic before. I was shocked to learn that garlic had anything to do with the dreaded 'organic chemistry' which all my friends tried to talk me out of taking.

The professor, a woman in her mid 60's who wore a T-shirt with the molecular structure of 'caffeine' on the front and 'theobromine' (aphrodisiac/stimulant in chocolate) on the back congratulated them on a job well done. She was always chipper for an old professor, probably owing to the fact that she drank 8 cups of coffee a day. Chemists are a unique breed.

Over the years I had many classes with Julie Patchouli, we even lived in the same apartment for awhile. She was an unbelievable cook, and taught me about the mysteries of whole foods prepared from scratch and with love. We weren't close friends, we kept each other at the closest distance our mutual skepticism would allow. However, I still remember every presentation that Julie Patchouli ever gave. I remember the meals that she cooked, I was inspired by her love for food and I am forever grateful.

I set out for a morning run with my running partner Matt, having eaten a lot of raw garlic the night before. Ever since Julie and Julie's presentation I have made it a mission to eat raw garlic whenever possible, provided I don't have somewhere to be that I need to worry about my odor that day. After about two miles I noticed that Matt kept looking over at me with a twisted expression on his face.
"WHAT?" I finally said. "
"Did you eat garlic last night, or something"
I giggled but was embarrassed. "Why, can you still smell it?"
"Yes" he said, "you stink" and we both fell over laughing.

Here is a hummus recipe which uses cilantro in place of garlic. This is the first time I have made hummus this way and it is awesome. I had to stop myself from eating it all before Christina gets home.

Cilantro Hummus: In a mini food processor, blend together 1 1/2 cups chickpeas, 1/2 Tbsp tahini, the juice of 1/2 lemon, 2 1/2 Tbsp olive oil, 1/2 Tbsp white wine vinegar, 1 cup loosely packed cilantro, salt and pepper.

The Salad: Place some red leaf lettuce on a plate decoratively. Add 1/2 diced green pepper, 2 diced sweet carrots, a few cherry tomatoes diced, a few quartered mushrooms. Drizzle the juice from the remaining lemon half over the veggies. Top with cilantro hummus.

Christina's vote: "Stirred my middle eastern blood"

The Traveling Genie Salad

They came, rolled up in a triangular cardboard tube with a label on the outside marked "To Christina Habibi and Emily Noble." We opened the package together, and pulled out the rolled up paper inside. After carefully undoing the wrapping, the paper popped opened like a cork and suddenly possibilities seemed endless, as though a genie had appeared.
From the paper, looking out at us, were two beautiful mermaids floating in a blue ocean with floating locks of golden hair.

Christina's mother had sent us a beautiful gift of mermaids. It was a large painting she had created, which had been hanging in a bedroom of her house. Christina and I had fallen in love with it the last time we visited Arizona. The color of the oceanic background matches the Arizona sky. The mermaids have the most beautiful eyes, they are alive enough to follow you, but too serene to bother. The lovely creatures hover just above the ocean floor, jeweled like Goddesses. One of them delicately cups a seahorse, her back is turned away from the bow of a sunken ship, as if to say "I am too content to bother with concerns of man".
The genie that came riding in with the mermaids was not a painting, but a different sort of precious gift. It was the gift of possibilities, pages of crisp new sheets of composition paper on which to write the story of my life. Christina's family has offered me a fresh new chapter designated toward a section entitled My Incredible In-laws. They are willing to accept me as a member of their family even though our society and our legal system has not yet decided whether or not to believe in our love.
I remember when I used to think that I had no vote in the realm of what was real and what was fantasy. I now realize that if I am willing to suspend my disbelief, and be open to all possibilities, my book has infinite endings.

The dressing
blend together 1-2 Tbsp red onion, 2 Tbsp olive oil, 2 Tbsp salad oil, 1 Tbsp red wine vinegar, 1 tsp lemon juice, 1 tsp Dijon mustard, 1 tsp sugar, a few drops soy sauce (10) a sprinkle of paprika, salt and pepper.

The salad
Mix together 1/2 avocado, 1/4 red cabbage, 1 bulb of fennel

Christina's vote: "This salad made me wonder why"