A Day in the Garden

What a beautiful day outside - we're working hard on the new gardens and culinary center downtown in Blue Ridge, Georgia. And what a delight to come in for a break and discover our friend Mary Moore from Cook's Warehouse in Atlanta is featured on CNN!

Congratulations Mary!

Southern Flavors, The Quest for Great-Grandmother's Pimento Cheese

I grew up in Connecticut, but apparently have been a Southern girl at heart since birth. I love everything about the South – from the southern belle charm to the redneck in a pickup truck – all the stereotypical images we Yankees have of this foreign land are a lullaby to me. And living here in the North Georgia Mountains is a dream.

There are very few Southern belles here – most of the women I’ve met who have lived out their lives here still live off the land in one form or another – hunting, fishing and growing their sustenance. It is this heritage of self-sufficiency that thrills me most. It is my aspiration. The simple – back to basics – southern Appalachian life tickles me, allowing me to wake each day to new adventures.

The simplicity of the region can be summed up in its food as well. From the preserved and pickled produce packed in mason jars that weave a colorful history in kitchen cupboards throughout the south to family recipes passed down from generation to generation...recipes for chow chow, deer meat [don’t be calling it venison ‘round here], squirrel stew, or home-brewed fruit wines - there are offerings here that no one up north or out west have ever heard of.

But one southern staple has found its way to high-end restaurant menus across the country – and that’s Pimento Cheese. We serve it at our own restaurant – Danny’s interpretation of the delightfully pedestrian spread served up with pickles and crackers.

And now, it would appear that I am on a mission to find out other home-born recipes for the common southern cheese spread. Personally, I never heard of pimento cheese with in my Yankee, Protestant upbringing. Port wine cheese spread yes, but never anything the likes of this.

I’ve come to understand that the basic recipe has few ingredients: sharp cheddar cheese, mayonnaise, pimentos, salt and pepper, blended to either a smooth or chunky paste. But that’s where the basics end. Everyone has their own little secret add-in from cream cheese, Velveeta cheese, Louisiana-style hot sauce, Worcestershire sauce, cayenne pepper, paprika, jalapeños, onions, garlic, and dill pickles

Friends tell me they grew up eating pimento cheese sandwiches served up on squishy-soft white bread. Now it’s served up in restaurants topped on burgers, mixed into grilled cheese sandwiches or as a condiment on appetizer plates.

I’ve been sampling restaurant variations every chance I get on roadtrips through Tennessee, North Carolina and Georgia. It’s one of those quests – along with great barbecue – that has captured my soul these days.

But I would love to get some classic southern pimento cheese recipes passed down from generation to generation to get a better understanding of its roots and its regional variations. Anyone have their own recipe to share?

Travelogue: Israel

Let’s start with a few words of importance … about me! As the son of a hippy/show artist mom and veterinarian dad, sibling of a fashion designer sister and musician/producer brother, I know something about art; or if that is a stretch, let’s say “collage.” As a Jewish hunter/fisherman; classically trained chef in England, Italy and France, in kitchens the likes of La Coupole, Paris, and Moulin de Mougins, Cannes; and chef of my own restaurants – from New Hope, Pa., to Captiva Island, Fla. to the mountains of Blue Ridge, Ga., – for the past 29 years, I also know about flavors. Maybe it’s taste combinations I understand; all I know from my “melting pot” culinary experience is that I have nothing on Israel!

This tiny piece of sand, rock, grass and sun is landlocked by Lebanon, Jordan, Syria and Egypt on three sides and the Mediterranean Sea on the fourth. This country, encompassing 8100 square miles, is roughly the size of Massachusetts. It just celebrated its 60th birthday this year (the United States is almost four times that old) and yet it is totally self-sufficient. Its cuisine is as striking and bold as the Israelis themselves (we all know about the army and Mossad, obviously).

My first trip to Israel was this past spring, and surely it won’t be my last! It is like a culinary wonderland. It’s true that everything had to be planted, it is not an ancient Garden of Eden to be sure, not a lot of wild fruits growing on the roadside or the wonderful pearl-size wild strawberries you may find in Provence or Sicily, but what an agricultural monument this state is. Everything you eat comes from here: oranges, figs, pineapples, mangoes, loquats, coconuts, every nut, herb, seed pepper, if you know it, you can find it here. The Mediterranean is also awash with tasty crustaceans, bivalves and a myriad of fish, such as John Dory, dorade, sea bass and sardines. The clear, clean waters of the Sea of Galilee, actually a giant freshwater lake, are as abundant with non-salt-loving species. The Galilee is also home to some of the first and most successful commercial aquaculture ventures started in the ’40s, producing trout, salmon, tilapia, herring and others.

Now that my introduction has become my story, we might as well jump into the whole “pot.” To my surprise, not being a historian, geographer or culinary genealogist, such as Mario Batali (who by the way used to eat in my restaurants and is a human culinary Bible), I literally knew nothing of this amazing land. Like many friends who question my travel to the “homeland,” fears of bombings and terrorists in their heads, I had visualized a vast sandscape, torrid winds, scorpions, a place that begs the question: Why would anyone fight over this speck of earth? Obviously, I found different. It is true the general architecture doesn’t add much to the cityscape of Tel Aviv: crumbling not-so-old buildings, lots of barbed wire and very nondescript high-rises and beachside hotels, looking like so many concrete boxes. There is an odd smell in the air … of the sea, roasting vegetables and the tinge of fresh tar, it seems this land is constantly under construction.

But for a land so new, it is very old. Every step you take, fresh laundry blowing in the wind, cobbled streets, market stalls, street vendors and the Muslim calls for prayer remind you of your location. Everything here is a mix, a medley of foods, dress, cultures, colors of skin, a true melting pot of humanity. To my surprise, Tel Aviv, our home base for the trip, is a very homogenous society, at least on the outside. A quick jaunt around town, stroll on the beachside promenade, taxi ride or amble through the numerous day markets, selling and trading everything from new “LV” handbags to preserved lemon and fresh couscous, one would not discern the everyday strife surrounding this place. Expectations were of yarmulke and rabbis, hijabs and veiled eyes, and machine guns; what I found was shawarma and borscht; kibbeh and falafel and  Monet’s palette – a speckled, sparkling array of colors, fruits and vegetables of every shape and size. Drab green and purple artichoke to emerald green lithe pea tendrils. Citrus glows of every hue from brilliant yellow to ruby orange. Dried beans, spices, herbs and rice varieties from around the world fill hand-woven cane baskets. Israel’s borders are all closed but that of the sea, where warships intermittently block the glow of the sunset on the horizon. And yet it is all here. People from every walk of life, mostly Israeli (Jews and Arabs), but don’t forget the daily immigration of Jews from France, Spain and Russia. Unlike my current home of Florida, which is an expanding culinary center due to my own and other chefs’ interests, Israel has an influence that comes from constant struggle and immigration. Those coming and those already here will not relinquish any of their heritages, which just continue to bolster the ever-growing cuisine. I did not notice a strong sense of trends here, nouvelle, gastro-pub, pan-Asian, organic, “deconstructionism” – just a strong sense of flavor and multitude of available product.

Nurtured by the mission of Ben-Gurion, the Israeli self-sufficiency manifesto developed a green, growing, sustainable country. The fruit and fields are constantly rotated to help with regrowth and lack of water; the chicken produce the most delicious, almost golden umber egg yolks; the cows, goats and sheep produce incredibly rich milk from pastured, naturally ranging and feeding animals that certainly rival that of Europe and King Island, Tasmania (we’ll get to that exploration later). Yogurts, very thick, white and rich, not that thin, blue-tinged, skimmed stuff of the States. And beef also of top quality, marbling and flavor.

I won’t dispute the fact that produce eaten at or near its place of origin doesn’t somehow taste better, it does! Fresh olives, an assortment of goat cheese ranging in age from three days to eight months, rolled in ash, almost liquid inside, and fresh-baked bread, eaten in the same pasture as the goats that provide the milk (and the amusement) is incredible. But what I have come to know of as pita, halva, couscous, shawarma (gyro) and any other “Israeli” food or product have been poor imposters to say the least. We expect matzo balls and chopped liver, neither of which did I see or eat in a two-week stay. You see lahukh, a large, fluffy Yemenite grilled bread, or laffa, a large soft flat bread, like a giant tortilla, lightly browned pita, very soft, filled with anything from chocolate or ice cream for kids, to lobster falafel in “high-heeled” restaurants. Shawarma – sliced, marinated leg of lamb, chicken thighs or turkey legs, heavily seasoned, skewered and slowly vertically grilled on a gas flame, then shaved on fresh pita with an array of fresh condiments, that may include French fries, cucumbers, red cabbage, hummus, various pickles, zhug (like harissa, hot pepper sauce) preserved mango puree, a Syrian favorite – and the list goes on. Can you really compare that to the gray, scrapple-like mass we see in the States for shawarma or gyro? Don’t get me wrong; growing up in Philly, scrapple is a personal favorite, and one of the four food groups, along with cheese steaks, Tastee Cakes and Wise potato chips.

In the most casual of restaurants, a diner is inundated with a display of “salads” ranging from pickled beets, chickpeas salad, hummus, grated radish with lemon, tabbouleh, olives, like the sidebar for shawarma or falafel, the salads, which are generally gratis with a meal, run the gamut. I think if you ate at markets, stalls, from casual family restaurants to the nicest hotel establishments, you’d find everything in these “sides,” including langoustine ceviches, fresh grape leaf rolled truffles, seared foie gras, brandied currants and silan (date honey). Along with other things, Israel is one of the world’s top producers of foie gras, “Goose Gold.”

The clean flavors and tastes of the dishes of the “everyday” make a smooth transition to restaurant fare: figs and dates stuffed with goat cheese and sprinkled with silan and fresh toasted cinnamon bark; a slaw of shaved fennel, lime-green pistachios and extra virgin olive oil; tabbouleh with its green parsley contrasted by the translucent ruby hues of fresh pomegranate seeds; or fresh bourekas (a favorite local pastry, made of fresh phyllo sheets or multilayered, 98 percent butter puff pastry), filled with everything from golden thistle honey-soaked poppy seeds to fresh goat cheese, lamb and hyssop – all these and more fill the air and eyes with visions of Paris or the Riviera, and you haven’t left the Carmel Street Market yet!

 We headed for the Golan on Tuesday – yes, all of this has only been two days, my senses are already overloaded. As we drive away from the sea, out of the L.A.-like traffic and cement surroundings, the sidewalks become fields, orchards and groves. Giant date and coconut trees line the roads; as we pass olive trees, donkeys and more block box houses, we see the mountains ahead. We pass hillside towns, sparsely populated, with many homes in disrepair or semi-built, it becomes hard to tell, though when you see the city center, a mosque, you know it is an Arab village. There are all religions here, but the major break is Jews and Muslims, not Arab and Israeli. We visited many kfars (villages) and towns where people seem to coexist easily; I tried not to read anything into my trip that wasn’t clearly evident. In Nazareth (remember Mary and Joseph?), we made our way through narrow streets, constant honking of horns, to a little open storefront: the home of Mahroum, the phyllo, halva, candy king. A family business, kosher, that is well-known across the Middle East, with produce shipped around the world as private-label “Religious Sweets.”

Aside from being offered the sweetest of sweet baklava and the blackest of night, “strong like ox” coffee, we witness the making of fresh phyllo – you know that multilayered paper stuff we buy in the freezer section next to “Hungry Man” dinners. This seemingly impossible production is done by hand, in a matter of minutes, with a flour-water mixture. In a land where they honk before the light turns green and I got pushed into my plane seat by a four-foot-tall white-haired Bubbie-type woman rushing to get off, the food process is never rushed. Rolled by hand on a 3-feet-by-8-feet stainless steel table, with excessive cornstarch. My guess was a 10-pound ball of fresh snow-white dough is rolled out then folded, then rolled again, then folded, repeating the process until the dough consists of 16 see-through layers covering the table. Many candies, jellies (Turkish delight) and nut confections are also produced here.

The rich, earthy smell of toasted nuts – pistachios, almonds, sesame, Brazil nut – all held together with the help of molten lava-like caramelized sugar. And that crazy, angel-hair mass known as katafi (kadaif), shredded phyllo, is made on a one-of-a-kind rotating griddle that dispenses multiple rows of pancake-like batter and scrapes it off the same hot surface at the end of its round. A short, dark man collects the fine bunches of cooked pastry, like so many strands of a horse’s mane in a bareback rider’s grasp. All operations seemed to be carried out with ease. The operations were open to the air, but clean, and the ever-vigilant eye of the Mashgiach (rabbinical/kosher supervisor on premises) ensures quality and adherance to Kashrut law.

After our sweet stop, we continued out travels to the Golan, a central area for agriculture, dairy production, honey and wine. This industry was carried out by the kibbutzim, communities living truly communally, with shared living, dining, work and child-rearing. Many kibbutz have gone the way of the dollar. Manufacturing and the technological world have drawn the young to the cities, and the original inhabitants are now elderly, so much of the life of these mainly “farmers” has been taken over by large corporations, like the dairies of Tenuva, which produce everything from yogurt to goat cheese to great heavy cream. The flavor requirements and general attitudes of production have not changed, though; the products of these megaplex producers still rely on the top-quality resources of the region, and the front office, “big boys upstairs,” seems to keep their environment and customer health in focus. Maybe we could take some lessons from them. Somehow, they have managed to make products healthy and profitable on a grand scale.

The goat cheese snack in the pasture, which I mentioned earlier, took place on a small family-run farm named Barkinet, near the Tenuva Dairy. A husband-wife-son trio operates this small dairy/home farm, 90 percent of which is under open sky. The goats roam the pastures, birth and graze. They are protected by two large dogs that sleep and stay with them constantly, plus a couple of other family dogs, your typical farm inhabitants, one with three legs, one with a cut-off tail, another squinting through a half-closed eye, all of whom stop by for a quick sniff or squat, but return home for a warm snack and shade from the blazing afternoon sun.

On a second trip to the Golan, we drove along the Sea of Galilee, opulent and glistening in the morning sun. Sea gulls and a variety of sea eagles, herons and shore birds call this area home, for its endless supply of easy-to-trap, -pierce and -catch fish. Making our way between and up mountains, we visited Yarden and Golan Heights wineries. Many other top Israeli wineries operate here, not the least of which are Tishbi,  Barkan, and Binyamina. As with the cuisine, the wines produced here are world-class, all in their respective value classes. Creative winemaker flavors and time-tested world varietals that are purely grape-driven. Most of the winemakers and oenologists are either European-trained, UC Davis graduates or both. From citrusy whites to chewy, rich California-style reds and everything in between. Late harvests, late field straw-hued, prism shades of gold and bronze, intensely rich, cloying sweetness with the slightest crack of a bubble to clear the palate, cryogenic ice wines – something for everyone and every food.

 At Golan Heights Winery, younger, less extravagant sibling of well-known Yarden Vineyards, as we look east from the reception balcony, we ask about the big hole and broken trellis in the vineyard below. Victor Schoenfeld, the winemaker, with a big smile and chuckle, quips, “Hezbollah, not great shots.” With some bewilderment, we continue our tour of the winery, taste a very clean fruity Pinot Blanc, a merlot, a Syrah, a blockbuster, fruity, fat, round cherry (the kind us fruit-forward types like, no Bordeaux finesse for me!), a Golan Late Harvest Gewurztraminer successfully masquerading as a Sauternes. As we left the tasting to walk the vineyards northwest, I saw two flags on a hill about 500 yards from us among the vines. I could make out the blue and white of what I figured was the Israeli flag and the other, not 75 yards away, amongst the birds, bees and wild flowers of this gorgeous hillside, was the Lebanese flag.

At this point I realized my location and its proximity to everything bad, as viewed and marketed by the TV and news. I came here as a cook, not a diplomat. All the seeming turmoil gave way to beauty and incredible foods and divergent styles, which somehow, in cuisine, come together. On our return to Tel Aviv, around 10 p.m., we stopped in a semi-upscale, yuppie neighborhood. Getting out of the car, we were blinded by neon, reminiscent of the Wildwood Boardwalk; in fact, the bustling line of kids, businessmen, yuppies and cabbies we stepped into were all clamoring, in the typical Israeli friendly screaming and gesturing style, for one local favorite – sabich. This typical Israeli fusion street food of paper-thin fried eggplant, hummus, tahini, zhug (ground hot peppers), hard-boiled eggs, cabbage, preserved mango and the full complement of salads and sauces, all wrapped in a giant soft bread, probably weighing in at 2 pounds. The craziest thing is David “Dudi” Sasson, a second-generation Sabich maker with a kiosk at 129 Ha’Roeh Street in Ramat Gan. Sasson makes every single sandwich that goes through the window; all his helpers refill, take money and bag up call-in orders. This little stand epitomizes the energy, independence and boldness of Israelis and the melting pot style of their cuisine; this two-handed, paper-wrapped, Middle Eastern burrito brings together the food of at least five countries, most notably Syria, Egypt, Lebanon, Jordan and Israel.

To many people’s surprise, certainly mine, this is a growing cuisine. And like the Israeli’s constant rush, hyperbolic ego and initiative (according to some of the producers we met, large and small, they invented everything from pita to couscous and katafi, and even ice cream), though I may not believe all these claims, it is this “stick-to-it-iveness” that gets them through and will forever set their culinary mark, with me anyway.

As with all things Jewish, kosher, Middle Eastern and Israeli, these terms are sometimes interchangeable, incorrectly used or thrown into a statement as a show of liberality, but they are all as different as the peoples and cultures that bring together and also divide them. It is an incredible land and a strange dichotomy that has helped develop this little-touted yet infinite cuisine.

Writer's Note: One of our favorite restaurants in Tel Aviv..Manta Ray. Chef is here in Atlanta at Cook's Warehouse! Chef Skinezes will teach two classes at The Cook’s Warehouse Wed., February 9, 7 to 9 p.m. “Israeli Food and Wine Pairing” The Cook’s Warehouse, Decataur, 180 West Ponce de Leon Avenue, Thurs., February 10, 7 to 9 p.m.; “Authentic Israeli Cuisine” The Cook’s Warehouse,, Ansley Mall (404) 815-4993, store phone.

Half-Back

Okay...so if you don't know where Blue Ridge, GA is...we're near the point where Georgia, Tennessee and North Carolina connect. It's a charming, Norman Rockwell town for tourists. For long-time residents, it's home. For people who have never been here - it's where they filmed Deliverance. It is a hunter's paradise, a fisherman's dream, a hiker's goal...and more.

There are plenty of us new transplants now in town, and together with long-time residents we're working on developing an economic base that will support and grow the community in a sustainable manner that will benefit all. They call us Florida-folk, Floridiots. I consider myself more fitting of the loosely defined nickname Half-Back, which means I was born a Yankee, moved to Florida and then finally became smart enough to move halfway back to paradise in North Georgia.

It is the true South - filled with soft-spoken southern belles and drawling rednecks - all proud of their ancestral roots. People smile here. God, Country, Family and Guns are all part of every day life. It is a place of Southern literary genius and hard-time country lyrics. Where meat-and-three is a term for a restaurant; pickup trucks come equipped with gun racks; and a sip of the perfect glass of sweet tea requires a side of insulin.

During a recent manicure, my manicurist and I began speaking about the area and how much we love it. We talked about the sustainable community garden project we are developing and the goal of illustrating to visitors and locals alike the bounty of the region, which makes being self-sustainable nearly attainable.

And that's when it happened. Another discussion that simply makes me adore and amaze at this place.

My sweet, petite manicurist told me about her four deer she killed this season. And the fact that she and her family eat mainly chicken and deer. She loved my project concept, talked about Putting Up hundreds of cans from her garden harvest, including Blackberry jam. She talked about the peace and solitude she finds with hunting (she prefers not to hunt with her husband); she shined talking about her 11-year old son who is quite the skilled hunter, getting 4 four deer himself this season, two by bow. She said she was waiting on him to get a couple more squirrel so she could make a mess, fixin' them up with the four already waiting in the freezer.

And while I am not a hunter (but The Chef is) I have such respect for people who truly take hold of the available product around them. In fact, Danny's quipped about squirrel hunting often, saying he's going to whip up a stew one of these days...and while I know he can make miracles out of most everything - I really hope he doesn't tell me until after we're done eating.

Either way I realized, I am not a half-back. I am simply back - where I belong.

So if you're in these parts, look us up. We'll be waiting, ya hear?

One of our new favorite things

We discovered this new item at the International Home + Housewares Show preview event in NYC last month. These napkins and placemats come on a roll - similar to the shelf liner rolls. But like magic you snap off biodegradable napkins and placemats and more...so cool! Perfect for picnics, catering events...ahhhh....

Rolldrap
by MyDrap
732-359-7555
www.mydrap.com
An inspirational product, this Barcelona, Spainmade
textile is innovative and smart.After the
decline of the European textile industry in the
early 90’s, industrial textile pioneers at Hostel
Drap created Rolldrap, cotton cloths on a roll
for the hospitality market. Now, its consumer
version is launching in the U.S. MYdrap napkins
and placemats are perforated on a roll for easy
tear-off convenience. Made of 100% cotton fibers,
MYdrap napkins are biodegradable, compostable
and re-usable. Available in 20 different colors,
four patterns and five sizes, MYdrap is designed

to be mixed and matched.

Who are we?

Well, to answer this question. The one typing right now is the Writer. My name is Michelle Moran and I have been a police reporter, political writer, and for the past decade have covered the specialty food and kitchenware market as a business reporter.

More than a decade ago, I dined at a restaurant called The Greenhouse on Captiva Island, Florida. The food amazed me; the chef was inspiring and was gaining national recognition from both food writers and culinary icons (the likes of Julia Child) alike.

Who would have known that years later I'd be partnering with that same chef in both my personal and professional life.

And yet, that is where I find myself today. Partnered with Chef Danny Mellman - celebrating food every day on the plate and with the pen. A year ago we opened Harvest on Main in Blue Ridge, Georgia  - a beautiful little town we happened upon by fate seven years ago. We moved here from Southwest Florida to start the restaurant and now find ourselves deeply involved in a town we adore.

This year's project is the Blue Ridge Agri-Cultural Center. A sustainable farm project in the heart of town with the goal of teaching culinary arts, gardening, beekeeping, landscaping, and more to people of all socio-economic levels. You can see the plans here.

I've also take on the role of Executive Editor at Gourmet Business magazine - an online magazine focused on specialty food and kitchenware. It's an industry that captured my heart over a decade ago and I can't seem to shake it.

So that's who we are...why the blog?

I will work each day to post something about sustainable practices, kitchenware, specialty food, Blue Ridge, living in a small town or simple recipes  - perhaps even travel...who knows? The discussion and focus will evolved over time. Part of it will definitely be about great products that I discover in my role as editor. Great food trends Danny discovers eating and cooking his way through life. And finally discoveries we make building and designing our new community project.

Cheers!