R Months = Oysters

The weather has definitely taken a dip.  I woke up the other morning and assuming it was another warm summer day took the dogs for a walk in flip flops.  The air was cool on my arms and toes.  I look forward to the season's changes, but being in the "ice cream" business, I always worry.  The cooling temperatures are challenging, but I love wearing sweaters and we can drink hot chocolate and eat soup.  Fall means apples, pears, quince, pumpkins and black walnuts for gelato and sorbetto. It is a good thing.

John's birthday was yesterday and it was not the usual affair.  He requested (at my insistence, as the "honey, I don't care what you make, as long as we are all together..." line was not cutting it.  Choose motherfucker, so I can get to work) gnocchi and a red velvet cake.  I could not find red food coloring.  Living in Philadelphia limits my shopping options.  I have Whole Foods and corner stores in my neighborhood.  Neither carries red food coloring. I had to drive to the burbs for it.  Additionally, it was "back to school" night, Manny had soccer practice and Michaela had a soccer game.  Not a whole lot of time to bake a cake and make gnocchi.  By 5:45 it became apparent that I could not get it done.  I called John.  "Oysters."  That is all he said.  "Oysters."

Sansom Street Oyster House.  We ordered Kusshi, Fanny Bay and Little Shemogue oysters.  3 dozen.  We each had 2 Bulleit old fashions, and a bowl of clam chowder.  I love this restaurant.  The oysters are excellent, the drinks are excellent, our waitress was excellent and it is really a beautiful space.  Big and square, yet it manages to feel warm and quirky.  The walls are painted brick and covered with antique oyster plates.  We bumped into old friends, who live around the corner from the restaurant.  They are there often. He stated that he imagines that the plates came from some old woman's collection.  I added that she had a drawer filled with small silver oyster forks, that she polished once a week.  I think I may have to add oyster plates to my obsessive mind.  Ebay, here I come....


John and I stepped from the warm oyster house into the cool early fall night air.  We were going to walk home, but realized how exhausted we were.  The old fashions were clouding our heads and our feet seemed so heavy.  It was a nice birthday dinner.  Sev returns at the week's end from his camping trip.  I will make gnocchi and red velvet cake.  Fall is good.  

Now that's a fire!

Y'all know how crazy I am about food.  I live to eat. My family lives to eat.  I will go to just about any length for great food. Which led me to this purchase.  A wood burning beehive oven.  It is from Portugal and I am in love.  Last week I spent three days seasoning it, which involves starting with a small fire and building up to a rager over a few days before you can cook.  This bad boy cannot get wet.  I waited for the weather to be gorgeous and then I was off to the races.  It was the last week before the kids went back to school, so things were crazy.  The oven was slowly burning on the third day when my neighbor (who I really like) snagged me as I was walking to my car en route to picking my daughter up at practice.  "Did you get a smoker or something?  What is going on back there?"  I realized that my little exciting oven may not exactly please everyone.  I quickly pulled out my cracked iPhone (I am holding on until the 12th people!) and revealed my adorable oven.

"You have to admit you are jealous." I said as he leaned in his eyes narrowing in effort to make out the oven image through the splintered glass.  He laughed and told me that he expected an invite to dinner.  Done.  Could it be that the smell of hardwood burning for three straight days as smoke billowed over the high fence for hours on end was not appreciated?  Maybe I should have apologized....

Finally, the oven was seasoned.  It was Manny's birthday and what did he want?  Pizza.....  When the oven arrived on the 22nd, he wanted to know if it would be ready by his birthday.  I told him that if the weather cooperated that it would.  He quietly stated that if ready he wanted pizza in that oven.  I told him that I was going in green and it could be a bust.  He was willing to take a chance.

Just in case of a pizza fail, I fried up some zucchini flowers.  You can get Manu to do just about anything with fried zucchini flowers.  He obsesses about them.  I fry them in sunflower oil.  A few weeks back Whole Foods was out of sunflower, so I substituted my usual for high temp safflower oil.  I did not tell anyone this as it is not important and I continued.  The drill goes like this, as I batter and fry the flowers, my family hovers. As I place the finished flowers on a paper towel lined plate, hands are already reaching.  I fry four at a time, so one person (me) has to wait for the next batch.  I have to say EVERY TIME, "please wait, they need salt."  Salt is drizzled and did you blink?  They're gone.  I am always asked if I stuff them followed by some tale of how they had stuffed zucchini flowers with this or that...blah blah blah.  Never.  I will NEVER stuff them.  I digress...I fried the flowers in safflower and Manu grabs the first out.  Crunch....crunch... "Mom?  What's up with these?  They're...I don't know.  They don't taste as good.  They taste, I don't know.  Heavy?  Something is not as delicious."  John then chimed in that he agreed.  Okay freaks.....  I love them.  I had sunflower for his birthday.

Back to my oven.  We roasted some red tomatoes and some red peppers.  Manu got involved.  Although the laser thermometer seemed to entertain all, poking the peppers and watching the 1/2 sheet pan warp was a good time.  I wanted to drop the peppers directly into the ash, but was nervous.  It is amazing.  The oven was hovering around 600 degrees, but the tomatoes cooked slowly.  The peppers needed more time.  I should have left them in longer.  I will continue to work on it.  I cranked the oven up to 900 degress. It was pizza time and I was up to bat.  The first pie was a bit burned on the edges as I accidentally pushed it into a smoldering log.  Manu smiled big as I slid the pie onto the board in front of him.  He took a bite...slowly, very slowly he smiled.  "This is awesome mom.  Better than all of the regular oven pizzas.  I like the wood taste."  That was it.  Not another word as he was busy.  Manu is a tomato guy. We had tomato salad with some local heirlooms, those roasted tomatoes (which were so good, it should be a crime) and tomato pie.  He finished the night with a lemon meringue pie.  He does not like cake (weirdo).

All in all, the maiden voyage was a success.  I did burn the edges of two pies and completed busted up a third.  I tried to turn it into a calzone, but all was lost.  It is going to be a good fall....