One of the particularly attractive things about learning of a new cuisine or recipe is the way that it can introduce unexpected ingredients to mind and palate. Things that seemed commonplace or familiar are suddenly tinged with mystery, filled with puzzles and questions never before imagined. So much recombinant mischief can be made when a new ingredient–or a new use for one I thought I’d known–comes into play.
Tomatillos
I’ve long known the delights of tomatillos. Salsa verde is a pleasurable variant of that endlessly flexible family of Mexican sauces best known in their tomato form, hot or cold. Usually made with chopped or pureed tomatillos in combination with onion, jalapeños, chiles, cilantro and whatever additional spices or lime juice the maker uses for her trademark blend, salsa verde brings a slightly lemony brightness of flavor and a zing of lively green to the plating of whatever magnificent assemblage of Mexican cuisine is in hand. As I love putting fruits of various kinds into my salsa cruda (or pico de gallo, the rough-cut raw and chunky form of salsa) for the bright, colorful, juicy and distinctive twists they can introduce to the party. Fruits are such glorious foils for spicy and savory foods that their addition has been popular for far too long for even a venerable geezer like me to credibly claim credit for pretty much any such combination. This is certainly a great reason to love tomatillos in spicy salsas.
The big surprise, for me (again, blame it on my innocence; blame it on my lack of smarts; blame it on the bossa nova) is that it turns out green is not the only color in which tomatillos ripen. So I bought these seeds for purple tomatillos, too, in high hopes of having an eventual opportunity for making some groovy purple salsa cruda. So cool! Unfortunately, the weather fairies of Texas had a little different slant, this summer, on the whole project and the poor little tomatillo plants, purple and green, couldn’t quite make it to full ripeness while being simultaneously strangled by drought. Pity. But one day I will make it happen. Then you can look for me to side my grilled salmon with a nice salsa cruda compounded of purple tomatillo, fresh peach, jalapeño, cilantro, lime juice and jots of salt, pepper, cumin, cinnamon. Fingers crossed!
How nutty is it that I didn't know people could make and use acorn flour!
There are so many other magical goodies around in the meantime, things not so seasonally sensitive perhaps, that there’s no worry about going hungry while waiting. Flours, for one. Asian, Native American and other foodies have already known for eons that acorns can be a source of jellies, cooking and baking, not to mention much-needed nutrition in times of scarcity. Me, I had no idea that acorn flour is useful for so much in the non-squirrel kitchen. But now I’ve acquired a small stash of the stuff so I can remedy my ignorance soon. Yes, acquired–bought–I have no intention of being so marvelously industrious as is required for the long and involved process of soaking out the tannins and preparing the acorns for consumption when I don’t even know how successfully I’ll use the flour, let alone how compellingly palatable the results will be. Time and experimentation will tell. Promise I’ll keep you posted!
On the heels of that particular discovery, of course, I went off on an alternative-flour tangent and hunted for others of interest. I’ve done a bit of baking with almond flour before (almonds ground up, but not so far as to be turning into almond butter, a whole other sort of ingredient altogether and tasty and useful in its own right) and coconut flour as well, and both are godsend finds for one who’s wanting to reduce or eliminate grain-based flours for any reason in cooking and baking. I certainly like that they’re both mild enough in flavor to work for innumerable purposes and are able to be adapted to a large number of functions in different recipes. The next surprise flour that popped up on my radar was mesquite. Say, what??? Making flour from the leguminous seeds of the nearly unkillable weed tree that drives ranchers ’round the bend with its tire-puncturing spines and water-hogging monster tap-root? Well, proponents say mesquite meal has a nutty, “sweet, earthy taste with notes of cinnamon, molasses, and caramel”—hard to argue with the allure of that. Needless to say, I look forward to seeing what can come of such a distinctive sounding ingredient.
A rose is a rose is a remarkable herb . . .
Consider the rose: what has long been one of the most favored flowers, universally admired for its varied beauty, perfume, and rather astonishing adaptability to climate and environs is being celebrated as the herb of the year this very year. Rose water, candied rose petals, rose hip tea, rose petal preserves, classic Turkish Delight–the list of rose-based foods has been building over centuries and only adds to the popularity of this queen of flowers. But most of that sort of thing was far outside the ken of a girl growing up in modest middle-class America, and didn’t really attract my attention until I was well into adulthood. Even then, I learned that as delicious as the rose is, a little can go a long way. So as I was contemplating my angle for this post and thinking about how fascinating it could be to yet discover previously unimagined ways to invite the rose to the dining table and began to contemplate what numinous form that idea might take. What did I do? Like any culinary detective-wannabe of the modern age, I Googled, of course. I typed in “rose as herb” and there before my very eyes appeared a handy page trumpeting the rose as Herb of the Year 2012. You call it lazy detective work, I call it kismet. Po-tay-to, po-tah-to. –Say, wouldn’t sweet potatoes be interesting prepared with a faint infusion of rosewater, some white pepper and a bit of fresh goat cheese whipped in? Or is that all old hat and I’m just showing off my ignorant bumpkin-osity once again? Never mind, I’m going to get me some of that Herb of the Year and have some fun. Ladies and gentlemen, spoons up . . .
Art-Colored Glasses 
Looking forward to what herbal concoction you bring us from the rose garden. In the meantime I’m loving the green and purpled beauty of your photos. Deliciously beautiful.
Thank you, Spree, that very coloration was what I saw in my photo file that made me want to pull them together, and, well, since I’m always thinking about food and what’s edible . . . things just happened after that. 🙂
I think it would be really interesting to taste something made from acorn flower. I have had rose flavored Turkish delight, and have to say I just couldn’t get used to the flavor. Maybe because it tasted just like roses smell 🙂
That’s one of the oddities about what does and doesn’t seem like food to us: most things *do* taste much like they smell, but if we associate the smell with something too un-food-like before we taste it, it can be nearly impossible to change our perception.
I can’t wait to see the “rosy future” you have in store for us (sappy, I know, I couldn’t resist..). That mesquite flour is so interesting, I can’t believe the notes are as they’ve described. I tend to think “barbecue” when reading “mesquite”. I think, if this is how it would taste, it would be lovely in a bread… Mesquite Bread, yum!
Yes, doesn’t it sound made for baked goods! The acorn flour seems to me more logically connected with more earthy and savory applications but the mesquite’s description certainly makes me think much more in a sweet direction. We’ll see if that holds true!
I am most intrigued by the acorn flour. Will look forward to a later update on what delight you produce with it. Love the pics 🙂
Thank you. After seeing your photography, I always come back here pretty sheepish, so I thank you for the encouragement. Acorns away!
You keep coming up with great phrases. The latest two to strike me are “recombinant mischief” and “non-squirrel kitchen.” Keep ’em coming.
Heh, heh. Now, if only I could discover a way to create a non-squirrel *roof*, that would make me happy. They think the raceway between our post oak in front and the red oak in back is the Rodent NASCAR track. Sigh.
I’m sighing along with you: we’ve got the same sort of situation. The only fringe benefit I see is that once in a while I get a picture of one of the squirrels while it’s still in the tree outside my window, before I hear a thud on the roof.
It’s a shame the Texan weather fairies were so unkind to your tomatillos. Thanks for posting about the different types of non-grain flours. I had no idea that you get almond, acorn or coconut flour.
Since I’m so uncomplicated and oversimplified in my cooking education and skills, I’m in a perpetual state of wonder at the amazing ingredients that I come across, especially when I find (as with the acorn flour) that they’ve been around since long before cooking was considered a skill or requiring education!
Ah, so the faeries migrate, do they? Or, perhaps they just hate tomatillos…I never have any luck with them, despite the bushels of their tomato-cousins that come out of my garden each summer…
Have you ever had the sweet orange husk cherries? Great on a cheese plate.
Can’t grow those, either.
Looking forward to Adventures in Acorn Flour!
I don’t know whether tomatillos can cross-pollinate with tomatoes, but I’ve read that most do need another variety of tomatillo to set fruit completely. Mine were so danged close I could *almost* use them when the heat finally just knocked them flat. Phooey! Yes, I’ve had physalis–but only overseas. Don’t see them so often in stores here. I’ve pretty much only seen them served as garnishes on desserts, too. Interesting. They certainly *are* decorative, especially when left peering out of their husks. Wonder if *those* are compatible for tomatillo pollination?! Uh-oh, I’m turning into a mad plant tinkerer!
Would the sweet potatoes/goat cheese/rose water/white pepper/ preparation be served on a bed of toasted baguette by any chance ? 😉
All I can say is, *why not*?! I was thinking of them as a sort of souffled side dish, but they would definitely make a grand topping for crostini. Mmm.
It is only January 3rd and already I’ve missed out on the pageantry involved in naming the rose this year’s Herb of the Year. Acorn flour? When and where did that come from? And don’t get me started about purple tomatillos! The New Year is only days old and already I’m behind and apparently growing more so by the second. I need chocolate. They still make chocolate, don’t they?
Silly man, you realize I wouldn’t even be well enough to lift my poor fingers and type a post if I hadn’t had any chocolate in over 24 hours, don’t you? Never fear! As for all of that other mystery stuff, well, clearly it caught me off guard, so I thought it my bounden duty to fill all of my blogging pals in too!
rose as herb of the year! Sounds like it is going to be a good one then! Happy 2012 🙂
I can’t imagine it being anything other than a truly excellent sign! And you should be just about hitting the peak season where you are, if I understand correctly, no? 🙂
I’ve never tried growing Tomatillos, let alone eaten them. I’m wondering if it’s worth giving up some greenhouse space for them.
As to flours, have you tried asian flours like Chickpea and Rice? Lots to make there
I haven’t used either of those flours myself but have been treated to lots of excellent things made with them! I’m constantly amazed at learning of new (to me) and different kinds of things made into flours.
Tomatillos have a fairly firm tomato texture and, to my tastebuds, a more lemony and bright flavor. I have only had them in salsas and sauces thus far but hope (given better garden success, hope, hope) to try them in sweet things like jams and tarts, where I think they could be really stellar. After all, green tomatoes work well that way and they have similar qualities to tomatillos . . . .
I have learned something new today! Acorn flour! I’m going to Google rose as herb now. I found out about purple tomatillos this year when I received them in my CSA box. Good luck next year!
Oh, lucky you! I’ll bet they were beautiful looking! And tasting, of course. 🙂 It’s funny, I’d never even thought about the status of roses as herbs, but once I was contemplating their culinary use I realized I couldn’t think of any other category that made much sense for them. Just a stroke of luck to discover their ‘coronation’ for the year the same day I thought of blogging them as food. Ha! And the acorn flour discovery came for me from the blog I’d linked here regarding their prep, where the author is obviously a master at knowing, finding and preparing all imaginable sorts of wild foods, and some not so imaginable!
Acorn flour? Wowow!!!!
Isn’t that just amazing?? I’m awed by the variety of foods *common* in other cultures or at other times that are completely unknown to me in this place and time!
All of this makes me very hungry; you make it all sound so delicious. You paint, draw, take photos, write, cook. Is there anything you can’t do?
Jill of all trades, master of none! But I like making the attempt, so I’m glad you support me in my dilettantism!!! 🙂 After all, especially the stuff I’m talking about in *this* post is all only theoretical at this point, right? So who knows but what I’ll only make it *sound* delicious. I’ve always had this big fantasy about working with a really good chef and being able to propose all sorts of recipes and menus that would be far beyond my skills and seeing (and eating/drinking) what a true master could do with them.
*clink* Spoons up, indeed! Let’s eat! Especially mesquite flour. Who knew?
Not I, clearly! I’ll be very interested to see what it’s *really* like. Keep you posted if and when . . . 🙂
Acorn flour? Sounds interesting to use…. Might look for it at the supermarket…
I bought it at the Korean supermarket here, as I think it was one of our Korean friends that told me where to find it. I know it’s online, too. 🙂