johnnyd

We serve this with a Casal Garcia - Vinho Verde, a "green" wine which is slightly effervescent. As such, it is a quandry to wine aficionados but it is just one of those peculiar Portuguese creations. It just so happens that it is really good with those pork/shellfish dishes so good for them! I always look for it when I have a cataplana on the brain and I invariably find it for about $7.

When the tomato mixture is cooked through, I add the proscuitto and choriço, a few squid tentacles and sliced tubes, then a bit of cod. A half cup of white wine is a good idea at this point. After a return to simmer, the mussels are added with a spoonful or two of tomato mixture on top and a liberal scattering of flat-leaf parsley. The cataplana is closed tightly for fifteen minutes on low heat. The aroma is exquisite!

While the tomato mixture is simmering, it's time for another snack... This is a small frond of rockweed found everywhere on the Maine coast. Upon which we place a few oysters from a Damarriscotta river oyster farm.

The season's first heirloom tomato. I think it's a cherokee but I'll know when I taste it. Tonight we are making Mexilhoes na Cataplana, Mussels in a weird-copper-thingie-that-iberian-gypsies-have-used-for-generations. Essentially, it is a pork and shellfish dish popular in Spain and Portugal. I lived in the Algarve province of Portugal on and off for ten years as a young man and had many culinary epiphanies there. This is one of them. Tonight, I am adding some squid and some nice fresh cod to this seasoned tomato-based dish. I have some prosciutto and choriço from Mark and Maurice's Sausage Kitchen upthread, and Craig and Bernie's gift of fresh mussels from their raft out in Casco Bay. 1/4 inch slab of proshute, choriço, paprika, bay and hot pepper which I will hand-grind. Proshute and choriço saute in olive oil Remove w/slotted spoon and saute 2 x chopped medium onion, 2 x bay leaf, 3 x clove garlic coarsely minced, and one chopped green pepper. Saute 'til glassy. Add 2tsp paprika, 1/4tsp hot pepper, and a few grinds of black pepper. Add 2 x cans diced tomato (one MUST be drained) and simmer for 40 minutes...

One of the highlights of being Director of Development at a non-profit radio station is the opportunity to visit our underwriters. Today I visited David L. Geary, the owner operator of the oldest microbrewery in New England. David chucked his sales job a while back and followed his passion to England and Scotland where he was invited to study with some traditionalists for a time. The result is a very popular pale ale brewed right here in Portland. He also has the coolest label... David gave me a tour. This is his classic Pale Ale. It has Two row English malt (pale, crystal and chocolate); Cascade, Mt Hood, Tettnang and Fuggle Hops. Alcohol by volume: 4.5%. His loyal bottling crew is, he says, right out of the bar scene on Star Wars. This is ANT. Bottling apparatus hums merrily along, assuring the town of some very fine beer. Every summer, David calls for designs from the Maine College of Art to put on his summer-only brew. David insists beer came before mankind as yeast in the air inevitably settled in a sweet, protein-rich puddle somewhere in the primordial stew... ...my kind of guy...

... and a nice one if I may say so.

I knew it wouldn't take long in this crowd. That one is about forty years old and was purchased at a street market in Portimão, in the Algarve, probably for about $5. I have been making Ameijoas na Cataplana with some of the locally made Choriço because it's fresh. The available linguiça is made in New Bedford, Mass, but loaded with sulfites and other nastiness common to pre-prepared food which I try to avoid. I am a firm believer in using fresh ingredients whenever possible. The math is simple: you will stay healthy. The fun is deciding what to do with what's around at the moment. They are both good. which shall I use tonight? The only ingredient I have are mussels so far... so that makes it Mexilhoes na Cataplana.

Time to cook up some of these fabulous, fresh mussels. Mussels Parisiennes has to be one of the best ways to cook these little beasts. Start with a good butter, Clean, debeard mussels. Chop onion or shallot, prep some tarragon and basil chiffonade style, Get a tablespoon of butter bubbling and add onion. When glassy, pour a cup of white wine in (no more), and when that bubbles, add a couple capfuls of pernod. Then your mussels. Before you put the cover on, scatter herbs over the mussels. Keep an eye on things while you open a new bottle of wine. I made a salad with the fresh vegatables I bought from the Alewive's market. On a whim, I boiled one of the fresh-picked corn for four minutes and rolled it in butter and a crank or two of pepper. This turned out to be the killer match... This dish was simply spectacular. But it was augmented by a simple ear of very fresh sweet corn, rolled in a little butter. The salty, herbed, licorice mussel portion was perfectly matched by the sweetness of an ear of corn-on-the-cob. I don't have a pic of my corn. It was an afterthought. Little did I know how it would transform this meal of mussels, freshly picked off a rope on an aquaculture raft in Casco Bay.

Our townhouse in South Portland was built in 1900 and was renovated so that the living/dining/kitchen area is upstairs. Those in the know might notice several years of Saveur in the bookcase, next to the packed bags of NYT Dining sections. I haven't had time to arrange my favorite recipes from them and I couldn't possibly throw them away. Mrs. johnnyd started calling this "kitchen stadium, the Maine edition" after a couple of, shall we say, "enthusiastic" cooking events here. Note the copper item on the wall next to the price board from my old Oyster Bar (a long story). Tell me what it is and you'll know what I'm making tomorrow night. We live next to the Fore River, opposite the City of Portland. The living area is upstairs because there are huge oil tanks across the street with earthen berms blocking the view, so the downstairs has no view of the town. A smart move by our neighbor/landlord/renovator... and eGullet member. KarenL is a designer of kitchens.

The cottage is all cleaned up and we are back home. Before we left Cape Elizabeth we visited our neighborhood farmer for a few supplies. It's a casual affair here at Alewive's. They have a vegetable array (only tomato and potato here, my camera was dying)... ...and a very detailed lobster pound. These guys run a couple boats out of the cove next to where we had the cottage for August. It's "detailed" because they have lobsters of incremental sizes in their particular crate in the indoor "pound". We got some crisp carrots, lettuce, awesome radishes, and a few ears of corn picked today.

Fennel was an experiment a few years ago because I had some. It is now a primary ingredient in my chowders. The trick is in how much you use. Too much and it overwhelms the soup. The bacon is extraordinarily smoky. I don't know where that market gets it but it is great stuff. The rendered fat flavor is absorbed by the onion, fennel and potato. My most recent dilemma is when to add thyme leaves. This had added a terrific accent but I'm still looking for the best moment to introduce it. So far, it's a toss-up between when the fish goes in and the stock starts bubbling. The percentage of milk (and heavy cream) depends on the density of the stock. This one was a strong one so I went about 35-40%. If my stock was lighter, I would reduce the stock for as long as I had time, then add 20-30% milk/cream. The chowder that night was a bit thin. With time, the potatos break down, thickening the liquid. That is the beginning of it's peak consistency. I freeze it here if I have enough (and, boy I do!) or call everyone up to come over for a couple bowls with a baguette. There are many who whip up a roux and thicken the chowder that way. I think that's cheating, but there are many who prefer there chowder nice and thick, even gloppy. So be it, but I think it detracts from the elements working together. I had a bowl last night which was stupendous. Unfortunately, there is no picture as we are in the process of moving out of there and cleaning up. I will miss it out here.

I don't put the stewing stock through a chinois because it seems more trouble than necessary for my purpose. I also don't have one at the cottage. When I started using the rockweed stewing liquid, it's strength provided plenty of flavour so there was little need to go to such lengths. I ended up taking the shells and cooked seaweed out to the beach and dumping it for the seagulls. After cooling on the stove, it is placed in the fridge. It's got a little scum on top which I keep. I suppose if the recipe objective demands further reduction, a little simmering daily is appropriate. My chowder isn't that fancy. It's not supposed to be. The rockweed (I will post a picture later) does not disintegrate. It does turn bright green instead of it's original brown color.

The lobster stock was made with the debris from Friday night's dinner on page one of the blog. I read of dishes made with lobster base using whole lobster, but during the summer molting season, lobster meat is very sweet and traditionally served with quick-cooked fresh corn on the cob, steamed soft-shelled clams, and maybe a potatoe done somehow, such as baked, as a cold salad, or fried. It is frequently called on local menus as a Downeast Dinner.

As most have noted, I am not one to stick to a recipe too closely. I apologize for the lack of documentation, prefering instead to portray the process as it happens through real-time photographs. The first time I made chowder, I followed a Joy of Cooking recipe and it came out fine. The next time I made it, I had the book handy as a reminder for amounts and timing. The next dozen times I made it, there was some missing ingredients so I took a hint from my mom when I was growing up, the queen of creative substitution. After a while here in Maine, the search for better chowder became a minor, but passionate hobby of mine. The discovery of the rockweed steaming bed alerted me to some interesting possibilities.

Amen! I hear ya loud and clear! Come up and have some, you driving fool! I probably have at least a gallon right now.

Well... I'm thinking Mussels Parisiennes. Pernod, tarragon, white wine and basil. One of my faves. I have to save some for a special dish I'm making later in the blog, though. I can't believe I said "no thanks" when Craig asked me if I wanted more. I guess I got scared because last time I got 14 pounds! I cooked them off all night because I didn't have a big enough pot for them all. Made a bucketful of tapa marinade for the little buggers, basically EVOO, pimento, shallot, capers maybe... no garlic. Something else in there but I don't remember. It lasted a long time.

Indeed it is, sir. I coarsely chopped the lobster bodies, added water and the steaming liquid which was dark and flavorful owing to the rockweed I had set into the pot as a steaming "bed". I then simmered the whole lot for about an hour, not long enough for a reduction really, but the tomalley and other good body parts disintegrated into the stock. Each one is a quart. The color is unappealing to some, but that is not an issue with me. The resulting flavour is more important. Give me a meal I can taste, damnit!

Wolf fish are plentiful here in maine. A friend used to broker masses of them to england destined for fish and chips shops. When I was diving, rumour was that if you are bitten by one the jaws lock and you can never get it off without surfacing and having someone cut the bloody thing off you. ...well, it was a rumour!

It was great to see the old crew again. Naturally a gift of shellfish is de riguer. We all said goodbye and planned to meet for some beers on Friday. An ex-urchin diver is coming back from his job in indonesia and said he would be there. Something about underwater consulting. We had a laugh over that one! Craig sets off into the foggy harbor. So I have four pounds of mussels sitting in my fridge... ...hmmm.... what to do. what to do...

Headed down to Hobson's wharf to meet my old friend Craig Tanner and Bernie Sutherland. Craig operates a Mussel Aquaculture Business in Casco Bay. The plan was to have Bernie motor over to the closest pier at Falmouth and take me out to their Clapboard island site but the weather was deteriorating and they decided to harvest early. By the time I was ready they were motoring in with their haul. Craig had two rafts the day he talked me into going out in the rain and help harvest mussels. Hardest $100 I've ever made. Now he has five rafts and can justify buying these industrial-size insulated containers. Who should be cleaning Ocean Perch but my old pal George. He's been in the biz a long time. I sold him my first sea urchin harvest in 1991. He's handling all of the fish for a couple high-end restaurants in town. This is a class operation. It has to be.

I was on the air today. My interview with a take-out hijiki bombed... Hey, I'm here all week! And remember folks, tip your waitresses, they work hard... for you!

Cusk are an unattractive, offshore bottom-dweller that measures from 1,1/2 to 2,1/2 pounds. They taste like haddock or hake or pollack, your basic white fish. Good for chowder!

We have experienced a run of spectacular weather for this blog. Today is much more typical. The fog horns are braying up and down the coast. When you live here a while, you can tell which one is which. By the time I go for coffee, it's raining pretty hard.

I've added a pound and half of haddock, coarsely sliced into one-inch pieces which is now simmering at low temperature. This chowder will not be "ready" tonight. It needs another day to come together. I basically use what ever fish comes my way. A fisherman friend dropped by after a trip out with 5 pounds of cod and 5 pounds of pollack. I put the cod in the freezer and whipped up some roasted pollack fillet wrapped in proscuitto then made chowder with the rest. I've added milk at this point, and some fresh thyme leaves from the mass of creeping thyme from in front of the camp/cabin/cottage. In a half hour I have a bowl because the smell in the kitchen has been it irresistable, but this will sit overnight and be served later. The haddock flesh, by the way, will disintegrate into tiny bits. I use cusk occasionally, because cusk flesh doesn't fall apart in a chowder (and is half the price).

Last night it was time to make chowder. The lobster/rockweed stock looks malevolent but after a couple of days the flavor is dead-on. I rendered some slab bacon and sauteed two medium onion, heart of a fennel bulb and a bit of local garlic. When it turns glassy, some new potatos are added and they cook until glassy as well. The crisp bacon will be used as a garnish. While that's going on, it's time for an appetizer! Yeah, baby! Ceviche in a shell! I prefer lime on littlenecks (these are a little smaller, called "countnecks"). It really matches the salt/sweet raw clam perfectly. We also tried a little meyer lemon which was pretty good too.