Build up a good pile of glowing red embers in the fire pit. If you’re lucky, you might be able to fuel the fire almost entirely with half-burned charcoal logs scavenged from nearby, unoccupied campsites. Put four handmade corn tortillas on the grill. We found ours, and the rest of the ingredients in this recipe, at Trader Joe’s. I’ve never much liked corn tortillas (except in chip form), but I’ve been developing a growing appreciation for them as of late, especially when they’re well cooked—the outside crisp and the inside soft (thank you La Taqueria). Flip them after a minute or two. You’re just trying to ensure that the thick tortilla gets cooked through—you don’t want to create a tostada. Now pile a healthy layer of grated cheese on two. We used a pepper jack blend, but really anything will do. We had some vine-ripened tomatoes with us, so I put a few slices on top of the cheese. Finally cover with the remaining two tortillas. Once the bottoms are getting brown and the cheese is melty, flip the quesadillas over and brown the other side. Remove from the grill and quarter. We only had a small swiss army knife with us—this was a messy affair. We also brought an avocado along, so we put a few slices on top of each quarter. But don’t omit the key ingredient: top with a healthy swirl of salsa verde (tomatillo salsa). If the quesadilla is swimming, you’re doing it right. There’s nothing quite like the combination of corn masa (in the form of tortillas or tamales) and the heady fruit of the tomatillo. Stephanie and I made these while camping at Lava Beds National Monument, and neither of us could help from exclaiming, with mouths open and full of food, how incredibly good they were.
I discovered that the lone celeriac in our fridge had developed a bad spot—but the rest was fine. I didn’t want to make another puree, so I looked in the pantry and found a bag of green lentils. Somehow the two connected in my mind (imagining the celeriac as a sort of giant, squat carrot) in the form of saucisses-lentilles. Which meant I was in need of some nice sausages, preferably Polish kielbasa. Our local neighborhood market, BiRite, tends to be a little thin in the cured-meats-that-are-bad-for-you category, but they did have a package of four nitr*te-free frankfurters from Let’s Be Frank, a local hot dog maker. Back at home, I diced and roasted the celeriac, I cooked the lentils in a little chicken stock and white wine, and I browned two of the franks in a pan, along with a bunch of kale that I couldn’t bare to pass up while I was at the store. I no longer see the leafy triumvirate of kale/chard/collards as inconvenient filler in our veggie box—I look forward to them. I have a hard time cooking a meal without something green. Preparing the lentils and sausages and celeriac alone, no matter how classic, just seemed wrong. I carried the kale home like a bouquet.
I was shocked to learn that a fire broke out at Chez Panisse yesterday (see also: SFGate, Berkeleyside), badly damaging the restaurant’s front porch and facade. Two weeks ago we ate there (for the first time) with Stephanie’s mom Chris, who was visiting from France. The restaurant is named after a character from a trilogy of French movies that the three of us had watched together. We were able to get a Saturday lunch reservation at the Café on short notice, which turned out to be a revelation—it was wonderful to emerge from our three-course meal into the broad daylight with a good part of the day still ahead. The food was impeccable, and it made for a fine conclusion to Chris’ stay.
I had intended to make soup. I ended up with puree. First I steamed two diced celeriacs, a bunch of very thin carrots, and two or three small potatoes (all from our veggie box). When everything was tender, I mashed them together with two cups of chicken stock, which I then attempted to thin, unsuccessfully, with another two cups of water; it seemed a shame to dilute it any further. I added the rest of some leftover sour cream and seasoned it with salt and pepper. After pureeing the mixture with a hand blender, I garnished it with some crumbled feta. Heady stuff, those celeriacs.
On Saturday we camped at Joseph D. Grant County Park east of San Jose with Casey and Kyle. It was probably the coldest weather we’ve ever camped in—I’m pretty sure it got below freezing during night. Inside my sleeping bag I was wearing wool socks with heating packets, jeans, boxers, a tshirt, a fleece pullover, a hoodie, a winter jacket, and fleece gloves! It was not the most technical garb, and I probably should have been better prepared, but we’d only planned to camp for a single night. We were down there because one of Kyle’s coworkers had invited us to help pick olives at his wife’s family’s home in the nearby countryside.
