Taste Adventure - Jicama

Behold the simply boring jicama.  Crisp but rather bland, fresh but neutral.

I can't say the first time I had it.  I do remember an extensive search to find the first one.  Once Hubby and I gave up our weekly trips to the bar on Friday nights we often found ourselves, with roommates by our side, watching Iron Chef and the Chris Isaak Show on our crappy oak cabinet TV.  Somewhere in there we might watch Emeril Live and any other random Food Network show because the rest of Friday night TV sucked.  So I have no clue who made jicama look good, but we became obsessed with finding it.

Every grocery store we went into for years afterwards would warrant a trip to the special vegetable section, where they housed the so-called ethnic veggies, in hopes of seeing the vaguely potato-like root.  This was before we shopped around much, relying on the farmers' market and the neighbourhood grocery store only.  Now I not only know I can find it in most grocery stores, but I know more than a few speciality produce stores which carry it.  And I am thankful for that because I love that root.

The Monster loves crisp veggies, especially peppers.  And Smilosaurus handled greek salad well last weekend, so I thought both of them would enjoy jicama.  I was half right.

Jicama is common in Mexican and some Asian cuisines.  It has a simple, crisp flavour and texture - like a watered down apple or crisped up sweet cucumber.  It takes well to spicy or bold flavours like a sesame vinaigrette or chilis.

To prepare jicama you peel the thin papery skin and slice it, dice it, chop it, or julienne.  I've never eaten it cooked, but it is possible.  Truthfully, I like it as a simple raw veggie, alongside my carrot sticks and cherry tomatoes.  But my favourite way to eat jicama is to add it to slaw, maybe with some apples to compliment the simple flavour, or in a mango jicama salad.  

When I served it last night I gave some to the girls as a simple matchstick first.  The Monster happily ate the pile placed in front of her, munching away as I chopped mango.  Smilosaurus was pretty much indifferent.  I don't think she had a problem with the taste, but the texture was still too crunchy for a girl without molars.  When it came to the salad, Smilosaurus picked out the mango and left a pile of jicama on the tray of her high chair.  I was hoping for leftovers, but both The Monster and Hubby ate more than their fair share.  I guess I better hit the grocery store again.

This is an easy salad.  It is easily dressed up and added to.  If I have it, I will add in some chopped fresh cilantro, minced red onions, or diced peppers.  It is also very good with some shredded savoy cabbage, some additional lime, and fresh chilis.

Mango Jicama Salad

1 jicama, peeled and cut into matchsticks

1 ripe mango, finely diced

1 lime, zest and juice

splash of olive oil

generous pinch of chili powder

salt and pepper

Mix all ingredients together, season.  

Taste Adventure - Fiddleheads

You know those moments when you speak out loud and you probably shouldn't?    Yeah, I had one of those on the weekend.  I'm fighting the crowds with the stroller (I am so one of those stroller people) at the Market, buying some groceries for the week when I see these tiny green spirals between shouts at The Monster to stay by me and making sure Smilosaurus is still buckled in.

"Ooh, fiddleheads!"  It was a moment when the world around you goes silent because you were ridiculously loud, even in a noisy crowd of shoppers.  Uh, sorry.

I first discovered fiddleheads when I lived in Halifax for university.  What was this precious green creature my friend's mom served at Easter dinner?  I'd never seen anything like it.  At that point I was still very picky and didn't eat much in the way of vegetables.  And I'd seen these things when hiking out at Crystal Crescent Beach.  They were edible?  Peer pressure did me in and I devoured the butter covered greenery.  Since that time I've only really had them a handful of times - I do live on the Prairies after all and these are not dry climate growers.

Did you know a fiddlehead is a fern that has just emerged from the ground?  Captured by foraging hands they grace our springtime plates like a harbinger of growth to come.  Steamed or sauteed lightly to be crisp tender they are really the taste of spring to me.  Not asparagus or lamb, but fiddleheads.  So when I saw them at the market I had to gasp, exclaim, and then sigh at the real end of winter (even if it really means the end of winter in BC).

The reviews were mixed in this house.  Smilosaurus will pretty much eat anything these days, but she really liked them. On Tuesday she finally put two and two together and signed "more" at dinner.  Last night she reverted back to a death grip on the high chair with a fixated stare on the food of choice and let loose with an intense growl.  Translation?  "More!"  

The Monster is a little out of sorts with Daddy away so she was grumpy and not feeling very adventurous.  Heck, she didn't want her scrambled eggs.  I left them on her plate, forked and ready to go.  A little more grumbling and she decided to eat one.  Although she pronounced that she did not like fiddleheads, she did eat the rest on her plate.

Preparation of fiddleheads is very simple.  Clean them well under running water or swish them around a bowlful of water to remove any brown bits or dirt.  Trim the ends off.  I simply steam them for a couple of minutes, with a sprinkling of salt to retain the colour.  You can toss them with some butter at this point and eat.  But they are also great tossed in a vinaigrette or quickly sauteed with garlic and olive oil.  That is what I did today and finished it off with a some lemon zest.

I wonder how the girls at the market fared?  In my exclamations I convinced them to try the fiddleheads.  Maybe they were just trying to help me recover from my embarrassment?

Taste Adventure - Lulo

This has been a long winter for everyone.  No matter how committed I am to eating local as much as possible I've been caving lately.  I Just. Can't. Eat. Another. Apple.  Not one.  And heck, those aren't even really local to Calgary.  But I've run out of frozen berries and peaches, there are no more saskatoons or rhubarb for baking, and I need the tang and heat that comes with something grown in the sun, relatively recently.

I'll admit to buying imported blueberries and watching out for the California spring fruits that actually look good - I draw the line at strawberries that look white inside.  But my true weakness are the tropical fruit I find at More Than Mangos.  I know, I've mentioned them before.  It goes against the true nature of our local farmers' market to have them on location, but I'm happy he's there.

Last weekend I picked up this pretty, round fruit.  Mostly orange with some deep green it actually reminded me of my childhood bedroom.  I was given free reign to pick my colours when I was about 7 or 8 and I chose peach and dark green.  But the taste of the Lulo was anything but childish.

Tart, but sweet.  Almost like a lime curd, but a lot tangier.  The pulp, scooped out, had the texture of a soft jelly.  In truth, the whole thing reminded me of eating those sour lemon candies - the fruit jellies covered in sugar.  I ate the flesh atop a bowl of my favourite vanilla yoghurt.  It was just what I needed on a not quite spring day.

And the girls?  The Monster gamely took a bit and refused any more.   Smilosaurus would eat it with enough yoghurt on the spoon, but that's it.  It may have reminded me of childhood and candy, but my daughters apparently have different tastes.

Taste Adventure - Deer

The home of my brother- and sister-in-law is situated in country residential East of Edmonton. Their house is set back from a rural road and surrounded by trees.  Moose will bed down on their front lawn and there is a new deer track every morning.  What a perfect location for a family of hunters.

At our last visit we watched a snacking deer as the sun set.  The Monster was actually quite afraid of the deer, hiding behind her uncle as he tried to point out the doe in the trees.  She constantly repeated, "I'm afraid of the deer."  Hmm, maybe it had something to do with the head of a buck on the living room wall?

Regardless, I was a little nervous as to how she would react when I pulled out a gifted deer roast from the freezer.  Would the memory be so strong and she would be afraid to eat?  Would she get upset at eating an animal, albeit a different animal, she just saw?  

The roast was simply labelled "deer roast".  Hmm, I had no idea what cut it was.  That makes a difference in how you cook a roast.  Animals with lots of connective tissue require a slow, low roast to ensure a tender piece of meat.  At the other end of the spectrum, a cut like a tenderloin needs high heat and to be cooked for only a short time.  What to do, what to do? God love the internet.  Most hunting related sites suggested marinating the roast in buttermilk or milk, overnight.  Well, that wasn't an option.  I was making it for dinner that night.  What I did find is that unless it was a tenderloin that most methods included a liquid of sorts.  So I went with an old fashioned pot roast.

Smashed garlic, a rough chopped onion, and a pile of carrots went into the La Creuset beside the well seasoned and browned roast.  I poured in a bottle of beer and stuck it in the oven for an hour at 350 degrees.  In the end, it was a bit long, with the roast cooked all the way through. But oh, was it ever tender.  You could definitely tell it was game and not beef, but it had tremendous, rich flavour.  I served it with some homemade horseradish cream that my dad makes every year.

It turns out I didn't need to be nervous about whether The Monster would like it or not.  Her plate is always put down first.  By the time I turned around and put down plates for Hubby and I she'd already powered through half of what I gave her.  "Good bacon, Mama," she informed me.  And this past weekend she told her uncle that she was no longer afraid of the deer.

The deer roast was also a good introduction to red meat for The Smilosaurus.  Cut in tiny little chunks she ate more than The Monster.  And since that night she's been a meat fiend.  Steak dinner out one night, ribs, even chicken tagine.  Our little carnivore.  And it all started with the deer our family provided.  Now that's local.