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10 Legs in the Kitchen

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10 Legs in the Kitchen

Tag Archives: Maui

Notoriously late…

20 Saturday Dec 2014

Posted by Stacey Bender in Eating Out, holidays, Reviews, the kitchen

≈ 19 Comments

Tags

Maui, O'o Farm, Pacifico, Roast Cornish game hens

 

maui signSo late!

I’m notoriously late. Truly, notoriously, can count on it, late!

I have a long-time relationship with a car service that has taken me to the airport for the better part of twenty years (wow, has it really been that long?).  Owners of Bellevue Towncar Service, Mark and Natasha, are like family.  As Mark was driving Tom and I to the airport for our Thanksgiving/Tom’s birthday trip to Maui, we were discussing individual behaviors.  He has a client base that, with time, he has come to know their behaviors are unchanging.  I am one of those un-changables; he always schedules in an extra 20 minutes for my tardiness, because he knows I always will be t a r d y .

At first it was a forgotten wallet or one more shirt to pack; five more minutes, please!  Sometimes, it was Buffy, taking too long outside to pee (Wheeee! Now it is Ginger and Buddy).  Early on, I realized that when I told him to pick me up at 5:00 am, he would be outside at 4:45, and I would usually make it to the curb by 5:15.  He never missed a pick-up time, was always early and never late.  I was always late, and never early.

As we were conversing in the car this trip, he eluded that he knows me well.  Some clients are waiting curbside, bags packed, no matter how early he shows up.  With me, he can count on my rushing out the door, with more bags than I need, and never less than 15 minutes late.

So yes, it is December, and as I’m cutting into my Halloween pumpkins, almost six weeks after Halloween (because the Christmas tree has decided to move-in in their place and I don’t want them to go to waste), it occurs to me, I haven’t yet finished writing about O’o Farms.  I started writing about it in November…2013!  Yes, I said 2013 (more than a year ago, for those of you not paying attention).

B & G 1 A little Grinchy (but festive) with the tree waiting to come inside, but no licks on the candy cane.

So, rewind to the beginning…November, 2013, lunch on “the Farm” (this is what I had to say back then):

“I am not one to be caught acting like a tourist, even if I am (which in this case I’m not) nor would I be the one asking for someone’s autograph; that’s like asking for someone to sign my trash.  We are all living life in similar capacity, some just luckier, smarter, or more talented than the others.  Some who need for material things and some that are fueled by love.  Each of us has, or has had, capacity to change their situation or move geography if desired.  I would love to live a million lifetimes, doing something different with each and every one of them.  If asked today what it is I want to do and where, the answer would be upcountry, down country or any country – on a farm; a beautiful, spectacular, breathtaking farm.  I don’t mean a milking the cows or shoveling manure kind of farm (even though that is part of the package for farm life).  I mean a “wow”, I’m lucky to be alive and be allowed to work on this farm kind-of-place!

Now, I can’t say that I’m a gardener (because I’m not); it wasn’t something I ever chose to learn.  I can snip my herbs and appreciate the tomatoes that Tom readies every Summer; awaiting their peak as they ripen in the sun.  I can plant a row of seeds or pick a crop of berries, if not too large a crop.  I do neither of those things particularly well, but I can appreciate those that do.  Those that allow we who appreciate the best the land can offer, to partake.  I appreciate those that nurture, grow and have respect of land and life.  O’o Farms is comprised of just those kind of people.  As with any place that is good, it is the people behind that place that make it a good place.  O’o Farms is such a place.

We had been meaning to go for a few years but could never drag ourselves off the beach for long enough to see how beautiful this farm is and enjoy the deliciousness it has to offer.  When I was on island this (that) past July, I had made reservations online in the wee hours of the night, but apparently, technology didn’t quite make it up the mountain, so we (nieces + Mom) weren’t able to join the farm hands on that trip; much to their dismay.  This trip I used the POT device (plain old telephone) so Tom and I were able to join a group of people to tour the farm, harvest fixings for our salad and consume an undeniably delicious lunch, outdoors, looking down over the valley and out to the beach.

view 1

Yes, this farm is a spectacular place.  It wasn’t always this way though.  It might have been beautiful, always, but hard work, passion and good people made it into the magical place that it is today.

tour start

Ansel begins the tour at his coffee and olive trees.  I was immediately drawn into the enthusiasm he portrayed. He was like a child who was describing (tearing into) a beautifully wrapped gift and simultaneously, a proud papa who had nurtured his child to become prosperous, charitable and kind.  He was like an educator who could discover new things alongside his students.  Ansel is the orchard manager and the pride that he takes shows, in his words, in his eyes and in the crops that he helps nurture; it is infectious.

After Ansel educated us on their farming practices and agricultural efforts and we had taken the walking tour where we harvested bits for our lunch, JJ wowed us with the edibles from his outdoor kitchen; I thought him to be the luckiest man on earth at the time, and us to be the luckiest of diners.  I couldn’t wait to go back.”

Fast-forward to: November, 2014, and our “recent” lunch on the Farm.

On return to the Farm, on the way up the volcano of Haleakala, I breathed in the fresh air and rejoiced.

O’o farms.  A tour and a lunch.

A snack, and a tour, and a lunch.

An education, a snack, and a meal!

tour start ansel

Plus the view, once again, isn’t bad either, of the farm, the distant ocean or the guide.  Ansel, once again greets his crowd at the start of the epicurean adventure and thoroughly recreates the history, past and present, that went into making this farm the special place that it is.  This young man is passionate about the land and the work that goes into cultivating a product special enough to boast itself proudly on menus in Lahaina and at the farm, for which the produce is grown.  It is not found in the markets, which makes it coveted by the lucky patrons that are smart enough to book a table (I recommend the table located on the mountain, under the thatched roof, looking down on the valley and out onto the ocean…at this place, called O’o Farm.

ansel

I could spiel off all the facts he told us, but that would be like giving away the ending of a movie, you just need to go there to hear about the plot yourself.  I will say…compost, chickens, wattle trees, 1,000 crops in rotation…oh my (to the tune of “Lions & Tigers & Bears…oh my).

kitchen 1

What I really want to tell you about, is the food.  Needless to say, the produce is über fresh and this fact alone, well, this coupled with the wood-fired oven, sets the tone for a spectacular meal.  While the group is off touring the farm, harvesting ingredients for the salad, Chef is preparing a glorious feast.  Chef JJ, who was with us last year has moved back to the Mainland.

walking garden

Joining the Farm in October of this year, the sous chef at the sister restaurant Pacific’o (located in Lahaina and definitely worthy of a visit), was Chef Daniel.  We really like Chef Daniel.  Not only is he a fabulous chef, he is a good guy.  He too has that infectious passion for what he does and he openly shares his process with the inquisitives (such as myself) without the airy pretension that can sometimes accompany those donning the coat of a chef.

PS2_buffet 1The Chef

THE FOOD:

wood oven 1After-the-fact, dark now, but still red coals inside. Lovely heat on a cool mountainside (John, I need one of these!).

Wine: Irony chardonnay, BYOB, purchased from our favorite wine shop, Wailea Wine.  You are able to bring with you a bottle (or more) of wine to enjoy with your meal.  They will keep it chilled (if needed) until lunch and then open it and provide stemware.

Simple focaccia bread, doused heavily in olive oil (made from the harvest of Ansel’s olive trees) and baked in the wood-fired oven.  This was so good a fight almost broke out for the last piece (honest, no kidding).

Salad of hand-harvested baby lettuces, spinach, arugula, fennel fronds & purple Osaka (a mustard green that is reminiscent of wasabi) and whatever other stray greens we decided to harvest and throw into the basket on our tour.  The salad is dressed with an addictive lemon vinaigrette made by reducing citrus to a syrup and whisking in oil, infused with kafir lime and lemongrass, all from the site.  I think everyone at our table would have drank it if offered a cup.

lunch 3

Crispy tofu with wood-fired vegetables, rutabaga, daikon, and watermelon radish.  The tofu is memorable, almost magical.  It is seared for almost 2 hours to deplete it of excess moisture then cooked amongst a nest of root vegetables to produce a fluffy pillow of flavor with just the right amount of crisp.  If you think you don’t like tofu (or even if you do), you will (even more-so) after this.

Fresh-caught local Mahi Mahi roasted in the wood-fired oven.  This is finished with a crush of fresh Kafir lime leaf and seared in lemongrass-infused oil, then topped with braised scallions and leeks.  The fish is so fresh that it cuts like butter and melts in your mouth, exploding with flavor.  Never have I enjoyed this type of fish so much.

lunch 2

lunch 4

Rosemary lemon-brined chicken roasted in the wood-fired oven, topped with juices from the pan and chayote squash (which tastes like a cross between a potato and a cucumber).  The chicken was so moist and tender that I almost mistook it for the fish as I put in on my plate.  For a moment, I thought of replicating it for our Thanksgiving supper but decided to keep traditional with our beach grill of Hawaiian fish.  Instead I have semi-replicated it here at home using Cornish hen; my new favorite roasted bird.

buffet 2Chicken with root vegetables in foreground.

Chocolate truffles, Maui pineapple and French-presss coffee, a finale:

coffee choco

THE SCENE:

view 2

The farm tour concludes with a look at the newly built coffee roasting facility, built by hand using eucalyptus and wattle trees fallen from the property.  Again, with great pride, Ansel describes the nuances of coffee production and describes what it takes to go from berry to cup.  The coffee can be purchased on-line at ‘āina Gourmet Coffee and Tom (and I) heartily recommend the mokka roast (that we were just drinking today).

coffee roast house ansel

From there, we walk back to the kitchen, wash our hands at the outdoor sink and gather around to plate up our food that is just being laid out upon our arrival.

sink

The wine we brought with us has been kept chilled and brought down to the tables to be opened.  Long communal tables made from full slabs of tree are all set with china, glassware and silver.  There were three of them nestled under a thatched roof, overlooking the farm, valley below, and of course, the ocean (both the North and South shores).  The air is clean, fragrant and warm, but definitely not hot.  If you breath in deeply, you can fill your lungs with the mountain air and capture the essence of the land.  As you breath out, slowly, actively engaged with the surrounding views, temporarily, you are in a moment of deep zen.

PS_lunch 1

ROSEMARY, LEMON-BRINED CORNISH HENS

I chose cornish hens here because I had been meaning to roast a few after being served a delicious dinner of said-bird at my mother-in-law’s place this past summer.  Chef Daniel described what he used for the brine and I translated that description into a more humble scale, suitable for four people rather than 20.

This is delicious served alongside just a simple green salad, or also, give roasted chayote squash a try.  The kafir lime leaves infuse a subtle, exotic flavor, but if you have trouble finding them, squeeze over a little extra citrus; either way, you won’t be disappointed with the finished dish.

PS_cornish hen roast

INGREDIENTS 

8 cups water
1/4 cup salt
1/4 cup honey
8 bay leaves
4 TB lemon juice
4 sprigs rosemary
3 sprigs thyme
1 stalk celery
1 tsp toasted corriander seed

2 cornish game hens (preferably organic, pastured hens), lemongrass, kaffir lime-infused oil (simply heat a pan and add a lemongrass stalk with outer shell removed, a few kaffir lime leaves and some coriander seeds. Let warm, then add some grape seed oil to cover, when the oil is warm, turn off the heat and let the flavor infuse).

PREPARE

Bring everything but the hens and the oil to a boil.  Turn off the heat and let cool to room temperature.

Meanwhile, cut out the backbone from the hens and cut the birds into two halves, consisting each of breast and leg.

Add the poultry to the brine liquid.  Let sit, covered and refrigerated for a minimum of 4 hours (maximum 24 hours).

Drain and pat dry.  Put all of the pieces into a stainless steel or glass bowl and cover loosely with paper towels.  Let sit overnight refrigerated (to dry further).

Brush with the infused oil and place the pieces in a single layer in a baking pan.  Toss a few lime leaves into the pan.

Roast in a pre-heated, 400-degree oven for approximately 45-60 minutes.  Turn once or twice during roasting and brush with the pan juices each turn.

When the skin is golden and the meat is cooked through (internal temp should be 165), remove from the oven and let rest for 10 minutes before serving.

TO SERVE:

Squeeze lemon juice over the hens and then squeeze the lime leaves over.  Brush with more infused oil and pan drippings.  If you like, you can heat the pan drippings with a little white wine plus more lemon juice and use that as a sauce.

PScornish hen plateJPG
Shown with roasted leeks and watermelon radish.

Don’t forget, it is perfectly acceptable to pick up the hens with your hands and be sure to lick the bone.  Keep the bones away from your dogs though, as poultry bones can be dangerous to their health.

swing
Always make time for play or contemplation.

Traditionally, non-traditional

30 Saturday Nov 2013

Posted by Stacey Bender in beach mode, From the journals

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

beach grilling, food, Maui, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving stuffing on beach

20131130-180201.jpg

Most people would describe me as someone who is more likely to break the rules than follow them; life sure seems to be more interesting that way. Surprisingly though, I do tend to be conventional, except when I am not. Thanksgiving is one of those exceptions.

Growing up, Thanksgiving was an extravagant holiday in our house, as I’m sure it was in the homes of most around me. They are memories that I will always cherish. My Mom got up at the crack of dawn to make m sure we had a fully glutenous meal. In the evening, she wore her hair in an up-do that made her look like a movie star. We dressed up in long skirts of velvet and lace, with the men in proper suits of leisure. As I grew older though and went off on my own, I never really took to cooking Thanksgiving dinner, although I still held the holiday to be special. My first turkey was a disaster, despite desperate calls for intervention from “the Moms.” Tom happily snacked away on the shrimp dip served with Nabisco Wheat Thins while I flailed around in the tiny kitchen. The recipe was passed down from my Mom and immortalized in the pages of my first, and only, cookbook effort, Junior Achievers Cook.

As the years passed and I became more obsessed with food and cooking, Thanksgiving came to feel more like a chore than a celebration. I know it seems that I would embrace this kind of cooking, but I became less and less impressed with the effort-to-result-ratio (not to mention the ratio of food to plate). My sister-in-law Christine and I use to joke that we were just going to fly in Lucky Wishbone fried chicken the following year and skip all the fuss. We never did though, and each year it would take place all over again.

Tom and I decided to take tradition into our own hands and move the holiday south, and off the Mainland. We have abandoned turkey (except in a sandwich on the beach the day after) and replaced it with fresh-caught fish instead. This year it was opah, which was so fresh it felt as if we had pulled it from the sea ourselves (luckily not, visions of Tom flailing about in sea is not a good thought). But, cooked under the stars with the waves crashing to shore just 20 feet away, smells of salt and sand mixed happily with the smokey perfume of the fire. If you have never cooked over coals on the beach, this is something not to be missed.

20131130-181512.jpg
(All that dark behind the flash is ocean, honest)

I made a simple stuffing earlier in the day along with fresh green beans, cooked just-barely, then tossed with olive oil, lemon and almonds. I admit, I bought the fresh cranberry sauce this year as I usually make my own while the stuffing cooks (in between sips of Prosecco and bites of breakfast). The whole dinner, plates, utensils, food and all, fit perfectly into a small plastic file tub that also acts as a great side table in the sand.

The sun had been so orange and solid tonight that as it set, it felt as if a whole universe had disappeared before our eyes, right into the sea. The sky lit up colors of purple and red, casting light well into the evening.

Up and down the shore, families were walking back from dinner at the neighboring hotels. We settled into our usual spot, surrounded by all the comforts we could ask for, poured a cocktail and enjoyed an array of vegetables so fresh that nothing else was needed to kick-off our dinner; no nut-crusted cheese-balls, cheese cubes, crackers, shrimp dip, or parades and football on TV.

As the colored sky faded, we began to notice rhythmic lights as more families streamed by (or was it just clumsy walking in the sand?).

Cocktails turned to wine and the charcoal went from cold to hot.
20131130-181335.jpg

Sparks spat up like fireworks as if to acknowledge both Thanksgiving and Tom’s birthday all at once. I filled our plates, just enough, sat back and enjoyed a most exceptional meal. It is not the turkey that makes Thanksgiving, it’s the moments and relationships that we are thankful for.
20131130-180451.jpg

Beach stuffing (for two, as long as critters don’t show up, but that’s another story from another time)

INGREDIENTS

3 French brioche rolls, torn into bite size pieces

1/4 lb bulk hot Italian sausage

1 very small leek, stems removed, cleaned and sliced
3 crimini mushrooms, stems removed, diced
1 celery stick, diced
3 baby carrots, diced (1/8 cup)

1 egg (fresh from the island), whisked

Fresh thyme (3-4 twigs worth, twig removed)
Sea salt (duh) and fresh pepper to taste
Tomato juice or chicken stock to moisten

1 cup sliced kale

PREP

In a low oven, dry the brioche – but don’t burn
20131130-180730.jpg

Brown the sausage in a sauté pan, no oil needed, set aside.

Sauté, in the same pan with olive oil over medium low heat, the leeks, mushrooms, celery and carrots (approximately 5 minutes). Remove from heat and add the sausage back; then the whisked egg, salt/pepper and liquid (just enough to moisten).
20131130-182610.jpg

Transfer the whole deal to a buttered casserole dish (notice how I found a sweet one in Gramps’ Hawaiian cabinets dating back to my youth (so classic Mom)!  Add the kale and gently mix.
20131130-182444.jpg

Cook in a 350 degree oven for about 10 minutes. This will cook through all the contaminates (health dept. warning) allowing the finishing touch to occur on the beach grill.

COOK

Once at the beach, with fire heating up, but not yet Rocket hot, put the dish on the grill covered with foil. It will be hot enough, left covered sitting in a shallow bit of sand for the duration needed to sear the fish, whilst heating the beans (in foil pack),

Finish the night with a shot of espresso (in those l’il metal old school Italian stovetop makers), boiled on the hot coals and a bite of dark chocolate; no pie required.

20131130-182819.jpg

(Published from the beach. Ahhhhh, technology.)

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