September
And Chef Tae Strain's humble heart (a recipe)
I’m elated to include a recipe from my dear friend, Chef Tae Strain. His food speaks because he listens.
September
This was a summer of growth and abundance. And in myself all the new beautiful and wonderful things have become overgrown and are beginning to overwhelm me and nature knows. She’s begun to show mercy. And beneath the canopy of her now ragged garments the sun peaks through and I am left again to discover myself. I’m seeing glimpses of the young man with ripe and not yet rotten pain. Pain the sweetest pain that dripped from my chin like summer’s last peach. Then, also beneath the canopy, on the strong bough where the chain of my daughter’s swing is wrapped, I see her happiness and laughter carved into it. The branch has bled and hardened and bled and hardened as I met her joyful trill: “Higher, Papa! Higher!” Her happiness and laughter have cut through my hardest rings. And I’ve found that I’ve begun to grow around her. We are becoming one. Her and I. The young man she sees in the photographs of whatever time ago “Papa, you are a young man! Young Papa. That’s funny, Papa.” I see my father. When did I become you, Father? Dad? I am the young man… I’m here inside the deepest ring. The core. Storing the energy from the summer sun. Protected by all the years. Yet covered by them. I stopped listening to the language of my god. Alone I began to build my own temple to heaven. “And the Lord came down to see the city and the tower, which the children of men builded.” (Genesis 11:5) But the years collapsed around me from the chaos of all the languages I tried to speak and couldn’t understand.
In the country I’ve listened to the holy language of the earth and sun. I’ve watched the false corn grow. A far loftier temple than the stalks in the garden. My corn is no good. The kernels are strangely large and deep yellow nearly orange and asymmetrical and the cob is small and the stalk barely three feet tall. My crop insurance is my neighbor down the road. She grows strawberries and blackberries and blueberries and raspberries and melons and peaches and cucumbers and peppers and squash and tomatoes. My crop insurance is my neighbor down the road. He raises Highland cattle off the land. The false corn is someone else’s language. The businessman. His insurance is the displaced Mexicans who’ve lost their lands, the millions of them malnourished and starving. His insurance is in stolen lives. His insurance is the Americans who don’t care standing behind the barbed wire border with guns saying no in counterfeit thunder. His insurance is the suburb of apathy, the school cafeteria of poisoned children, the hospital serving steamed cheeseburgers of cruelty beef and shrink-wrapped cake of high fructose corn syrup to post-partum mothers and victims of heart failure. His insurance is the world enslaved beneath the weight of America they carry to not be crushed. His insurance is our temple of idolatry. And I don’t speak in tongues.
I tried. I worshipped the false idols and their prophets. Cha-ching cha-ching cha-ching. I’ll take ketchup with those fries, please. I was a young man, whispered the breeze through the canopy of the weeping cherry, reminding me. The only language I spoke was my own that they couldn’t understand. Intrinsic wisdom they couldn’t hear. Have you ever heard a rose grow? Or a leaf change color? The language of the earth and sun is impossibly quiet. I became deafened by the cacophony of our idolatry. Rejected. Confused. Sad. The sun peaks through the canopy and the first cool air settles my palpitations. I understood more as a young man than I do now. Deep within me he’s been reaching for the sun, storing her energy for the cold nights ahead. I can hear them coming. I’m listening. I’m listening. I’m listening.
Chef Tae Strain
Roasted Delicata Squash Salad with Stone Fruit, Crispy Kale, Sambal, and Roasted Nardello Peppers
An old chef and great mentor always told me that the most special dishes happen in between the seasons. Not everything is a perfect fit, but when you can find the right combination it sings in a different way.
End of summer and start of fall calls out for salads to me. Squash is peaking through but summer stuff is still hanging on. It’s easy to associate fall squash with heartier flavors, but there is a lightness to them that pairs beautifully with late summer veggies and the last of the stone fruit.
Squash and stone fruit are naturally sweet but in completely different ways. Squash has a vegetal and earthyquality with a more ‘caramelized’ sweetness, where the stone fruit tends to have a brighter, lighter sweetness with natural acidity to balance. For this salad my preference would be delicata because I find the texture holds up better to roasting than other squash, and also because it carries a different savory quality. For stone fruit I would choose nectarine and plum (availability relative of course). Nectarines have a slightly firmer texture and more acid than peaches, and plums have a beautiful tartness in the skin - both are qualities that balance out this plate.
To bring this dish together we treat the roasted squash and stone fruit as the focus, then build around with components that bring some richness, fat, and a little bit of spice. I generally think food needs spice to balance the flavors (not necessarily to be spicy) and this dish is a perfect example. We use what we call a ‘sambal’, a traditional southeast asian chili base condiment, and give it a romesco vibe by processing with peanuts, charred onions, peppers, and fresh herbs for brightness. The peppers in the sauce reinforce that end of summer profile, and we add some whole roasted Jimmy Nardello Peppers to the plate to bring it full circle.
The last element is the roasted kale. It may seem like an afterthought but it plays a very important role by bridging that summer/fall gap, and introducing a delicate crispy texture, as well a bit of richness/fat from the roasting. Bonus - this dish is vegan and if there were nut allergies you could easily replace the peanuts in the sambal with sunflower seeds.
● Roasted Delicata Squash/skin on - tossed with olive oil, salt, and roasted at 425*for 15-20 minutes until browned/caramelized.
● Large Diced Stone fruit - nectarines and plums preferably, tossed liberally with olive oil, lemon juice, salt, black pepper, sliced basil and sliced mint. I love to add a touch of japanese plum vinegar to this, but it’s not necessary if you can’t find!
● Roasted Kale - tossed liberally in olive oil and baked on a sheet tray in the oven at 350* until roasted/crispy
● ‘Sambal’ - message Tae directly!
● Jimmy Nardello Peppers - tossed with olive oil, salt, and roasted at 400* for 10-12 minutes until just tender, these get very soft very quick, so best to pull when they still seem slightly undercooked to allow for carry over cooking.
● Basil - some sliced to dress stone fruit and whole leaves for garnish
● Mint - some sliced to dress stone fruit and whole leaves for garnish
● Toasted Peanuts for garnish
*To bring together spread the sambal liberally on the bottom of the plate then place stone fruit and roasted squash on top. Garnish with the roasted peppers around, then top with the crispy kale and peanuts. Finish liberally with nice sharp olive oil, salt and black pepper.