Black Currants: What to Do, What to Do...

Hey everybody! Thanks for the suggestions and the well wishes for my trip to Acadia. I’m leaving bright and early this Saturday morning, and hope to tell you all about my lobstah rolls and full bellied clams when I return.

Here’s a little something to remember me by while I’m away: a cautionary tale about black currants.

See, I wasn’t too familiar with these little berries before I started loading them into my bucket at Fishkill Farms a few weeks ago. I merrily picked them from the bushes, sun warming my shoulders, me whistling away, and before you know it, I had just about half a bucket (currants on left, blueberries on right):
It wasn’t until I got back home that I realized half a bucket was half a bucket too many and these little guys were packing some serious potency. “Tart,” “sour”: these are words that don’t even begin to describe the power of the black currant. Nasty is more like it, even if you’re not Ms. Jackson (bah dum bum). That night, I was very tempted to throw my black currants in the garbage.

Instead, I made a type of “crisp,” figuring that sugar and butter would cut the nastiness. I put the currants in four ramekins. Then I took 4 tablespoons of sugar, about 1½ cups of plain flour, ½ cup of butter, ½ cup of brown sugar and ½ teaspoon of cinnamon, and combined all of it in a bowl. I sprinkled the mixture over the ramekins filled with currants, and then put them in the toaster oven for about 30 minutes at 350 degrees.
What’d I think of the finished product? Meh. It wasn’t bad, and the currants didn’t go to waste, but I think it could’ve used more sugar. Or a new recipe altogether. (…or less currants.) Too bad I hadn’t seen this article first. I could see the potential with pork belly.

Does anyone have a go-to, knock-your-socks-off, black currant recipe? I’d like to give it a try before I give up on currants altogether.

Fishkill Farms
9 Fishkill Farm Rd
Hopewell Junction, NY 12533
(845) 897-4377

The Good Life Goes on Vacation!

Photo credit by Sir William

Can you guess where I’m going based on that beauuuutiful picture taken by my ultra-talented brother, Billy Bob? (Hint: it’s not heaven.)

It’s Acadia National Park, Maine!

I’m leaving this Saturday (August 8th) and will be away from my computer (no blogs, no tweets) for about a week, but before I go, I’m hoping you all can recommend some great places to eat in Bar Harbor or even the drive up/down. Just comment below. I would be particularly indebted to those who pointed me in the very specific direction of a worthy lobster roll, fresh oysters, or fried full-bellied clams.

I’m bringing my camera, so when I return, I hope to share my finds with you, and catch up on some outstanding reports I’ve yet to blog about: a great pork chop recipe from the Babbo cookbook, what to do with blackcurrants (and the answer is not “put them in the garbage”), and dinner with my foodie soulmate Youngchae at Soho hotspot Locanda Verde.

I appreciate your suggestions, and your comments in general!

Why Route 22 Rocks

Sharon reporting from her mom’s house in Putnam County tonight. Too tired and full to drive back to Westchester.

On the way home from a photo excursion in Amenia today, the strangest thing happened: Even though we were doing a solid 55 mph on Route 22 (or, ahem... whatever the speed limit was), the most wonderful smoky smell wafted into our car. We looked out the window, and there on the side of the street was Big W’s Roadside Bar-B-Q.
The place looked legit. Next to the corner store, we saw a man emerging from an actual smokehouse carrying a large skewer of golden, smoked chickens.
Inside the corner store was smiling and amiable Warren Norstein, the mad scientist behind Big W’s, responsible for heaping portions of pulled chicken, beef brisket, pulled pork, and our poison of preference: spareribs rubbed with dry spices and brown sugar, and slow smoked for hours upon hours in the smokehouse next door.

It was only about 4:00 p.m. and we weren’t that hungry, so we ordered a large (half-slab) portion for $15 to go. It came with two sides: we chose the homemade mac-n-cheese and the woman behind the counter talked us into the smokey beans.

I watched Warren carefully wrap an insane mound of ribs into some heavy-duty aluminum foil.
“That’s a lot of ribs,” I said astutely.

He smiled. After he had loaded it up, he placed two more ribs in a small box. “Here’s two for the road.”

I love that guy. I just met him. But I know love when I see it.

The two ribs for the road didn’t make it to the road. I devoured mine right outside of the store and once we were in the car, I told my mom to step on it so we could get home and eat the rest. Yes. These ribs are fine. Moist and succulent, intricately seasoned and smoky—you could taste the time that went into them.

Before we could get busy eating, there was one more stop to make on Route 22, Kessman Farms, home of Dutchess County Fair Blue-Ribbon prize-winning sweet corn. I didn’t take any pictures of this place because I was napping in the car. But corn was purchased. As were peaches, which we haven’t tried, but look very sweet and juicy.

Later that evening, we reheated the ribs (right in the aluminum foil so they wouldn't dry out) and cooked the corn on the grill.

Here’s my fixed plate:
Delicious. Every last bite. The corn had such a pop to it, and was as sweet as white Jersey corn. The smokey beans, which wouldn’t necessarily have been our first choice if they weren’t recommended, were rich and hearty, with generous slivers of spare ribs mixed in with the beans. The mac-n-cheese tasted very milk-heavy, not at all processed, a little on the plain side if anything, but very satisfying. But those ribs. We couldn’t get enough. Except I suppose we could get enough, because when we were through with our dinners, it looked as if we hadn’t even made a dent in the mountain that remained.

Big W offers sauces: both hot sauce (too hot for me) and a sweet sauce to accompany the ribs. The sweet sauce was good. It almost tasted like there was some alcohol in there, but I think it was the caramelized onions coming through. I don’t think the ribs really needed the sauce, though. They were mighty fine on their own.

Big W’s Roadside Bar-B-Q
1475 Route 22
Wingdale, N.Y.
(845) 832-6200

Kessman Farms
83 Route 22
Pawling, NY
(845) 878-7492