Yes We CAN!

Here's the low down on New England's tomato crop this year: they are abundant. I decided take advantage of the overflowing tomatoes at our CSA farm Red Fire Farm, and order a few, or 20, pounds for canning!

As I placed my order for a half bushel of pasting tomatoes, also known as Roma, I had what is commonly referred to as an impulse buy. Some people exercise their impulse buys at the check out counter by grabbing that US Weekly, or pack of gum. I found myself impulse buying bulk veggies. In this case a half bushel (20 lbs.) of sweet delicious onions.  Oh yeah, then I threw in eight heads of garlic too!

A few days later I lugged to my office two HUGE boxes of tomatoes and onions, which required help from Adam to carry back to our apartment. Thus started my first foray into canning.

Some may be intimidated by the process, which involves sterilizing everything and then boiling the canned jars in a water bath for at least 45 minutes. But the process is pretty easy, as long as you've got a few hours to dedicate to it.

On Sunday I started out to can whole tomatoes. Since we don't have a dishwasher to sterilize the jars, I boiled the jars and lids, and then blanched the tomatoes in order to remove their skin. After filling up the sterile jars with peeled and quartered tomatoes, I added a tablespoon or so of lemon juice to each. This prevents botulism, which is some pretty nasty stuff. Peeling tomatoes was probably the most painstaking part, but really not as hard as I expected. There's a simple technique for peeling tomatoes, or any skinned fruit or veggie. Bring a pot of water to a boil, throw the tomatoes in for a few minutes, then remove them and dump 'em in an ice bath. The skins just slide right off. Messy, but simple.

After filling and sealing the jars, you simply boil them in a water bath for about 50 minutes. After the jars cool for a day they're done. As long as the lid didn't pop up, you've got sealed tomatoes to keep you through the winter!

Here is a step by step photos for tomato canning.

I Can See My House From Here!

Tearfully, our last CSA pickup has come and gone. Subconsciously it seems we have made an attempt to ration the last of this season's vegetables. One reason might be to hold on to the last of the amazing produce we were able to enjoy for 4 glorious months. Yet another reason might be to take a break from eating uber-healthy (albeit damn tasty) roots, tubers, leaves, and sprouts. This might be more of my selfish outlook to be honest.....

After her class on Thursday night, Kate and I decided to cheat on those chlorophyll goodies and try out Chez Henri, the well established and talked about French-Cuban bistro that sits no more than 100 steps from our front porch. Getting in just as the end of the bar opened up, we each pulled up a stool and ordered from the bar menu. We shared their specialty, a pressed Cuban sandwich, and a duck tamale salad for a grand total of $25. For a place that gets knocked on being expensive, not exactly breaking the bank. We enjoyed a few traditional cocktails, a rum and lime juice with bitters for me and a mojito for Kate, and the dishes took little time to follow. The sandwich was easily large enough for two and we were immediately relieved that we didn't decide on a third menu item.....although the french onion soup gratinee is on my list for next time.

The bread was super crusty and buttery, but didn't singe the roof of my mouth with heat or carve it up because it was too hard (a major concern for any panini veteran). Inside - paper thin slices of ham, tender roast pork, pickles, and gooey cheese to bind it all together. Yup, the combination tasted as good as it sounds. To be honest, it's probably the best Cuban sandwich if not the best overall sandwich I have ever had. The duck tamale was also a good size to share. The masa 'cocoon' was stuffed with shredded duck meat and it sat on top of a delicious spinach salad with warm vinegar dressing. On closer inspection, the wilted greens were also studded with thumb-sized lardons of bacon. These guys have definitely done their homework. Both dishes were a perfect compliment to our drinks too. We couldn't eat quick enough, each bite balancing rich, unctuous meaty bits with vinegar-spiked forkfuls and tart lime chasers.

Staring at a clean plates, sipping on the remains of our drinks, I was reminded of The Rum Diaries by Hunter Thompson where he and a raucous gang of journalist-nutbags spend nearly all waking hours downing high octane rum drinks and eating burgers in the sandblasted cafes of San Juan. Okay, not exactly the same environment, but I could picture a group of writers or laborers, or to a lesser extent Harvard students, chatting their days' laments away over the flowing rum drinks and meaty sandwiches of Chez Henri. Maybe I am getting carried away, but a sandwich like this gives you the excuse to daydream.

It's taken a while to get there, but I'm ridiculously happy I live so close to this place. I've got the best sandwich in Boston, bacon salads, and a cozy neighborhood bar one block away from me. I'll try to keep it under wraps though, our vegetables are bound to be jealous.